by CP Bialois
Gilliam paused for a long moment struggling to think. The part of him claiming this wasn’t right managed to gain a foot hold. He looked closer at the young man; his eyes were the same color as his brother’s.
“Well…” Master Timble began.
I know him… Gilliam’s mind fought through the cloud in his mind.
“…what’s your…”
Berek, the young man’s name was Berek. Gilliam struggled with the truth as it pierced through the web of dissension,
“…decision?” Master Timble stood with a smile on his face.
Gilliam turned to face Master Timble, the feeling of inadequacy and fear passed. The cleric of Fallor stood before his former master, his gaze hard and unforgiving. “I will do neither apparition. You have no power over me.”
After the battle of wills over the course of the last few minutes, Gilliam reveled in the power and faith he now felt. It was as though his power had grown though he wasn’t sure why or how.
To his surprise, the figure of Master Timble smiled. “Well done cleric, you may pass.” Without another word the room appeared to melt and was replaced by the tunnel. The sudden change made him feel uneasy but when Berek, the real Berek, was standing in front of him, he couldn’t stop smiling at his nephew.
It took a moment but Berek did return the smile. “It was that trying, uncle?” They both knew the young fighter had faced something all his own but at that moment it wasn’t important. Gilliam proved to himself that he was fulfilling his purpose, the fact it came from a magical spell seemed ironic to him. Perhaps magic wasn’t the terror most people believed it was.
Berek could feel the difference in his uncle. He became stronger, surer of himself and wiser. The young fighter thought back to his own experience. The enchantment cast on the tunnel sent him back as it did with Gilliam, but his experience strengthened his resolve.
One moment Berek was in the tunnel, its sides were illuminated through his night vision with a whitish hue and the next he found himself in the articulately maintained garden of his mother. Marywell Glossom had always been the envy of the people in Sythia. Every year her flowers bloomed the earliest and remained beautiful long after others long since perished. He took a deep breath, expecting this to be an illusion of sorts, but instead of a lung full of dust and mold, some of the sweetest smells on Pyrain flooded his senses. He was home.
At first joy flowed through him, the last few years must’ve been a dream. He was never sent away, he fell asleep in the garden reading or writing poetry. Yes, that had to be it. Berek looked down at his hands; they were smooth and free of scars and calluses that had been the mark of life as a fighter. But as with everything in life, a bit of doubt nibbled at the back of his thoughts. This isn’t right, the voice told him, don’t submit. He knew the voice but not who it belonged to. Whenever he closed his eyes or had any doubts that voice spoke to him reassuring him of his place.
Berek listened to the voice but after a moment he began ignoring it. He wanted to listen, the voice had never guided him wrong, but the desire to be in his home was greater. He wanted to be there over anywhere else and would behave himself and not embarrass his family as he did in his dream.
“Berek!” The booming voice of his father was unmistakable.
Smiling, Berek shook his head. He must’ve slept though dinner. “Here!”
“Berek!” The call came again.
Berek’s father didn’t hear him so he set off towards the source of the voice, answering again as he stepped out from the grove of trees beside the pathway through the heart of the garden. “Here, father.”
“Ah, there you are son.” Saul Glossum’s voice was warm and inviting, as it always was, but his face and eyes were ice cold. “Come here son, I’d like you to meet someone.”
Berek shivered when a cold chill swept through him. He dreamed about that moment after being sent away. He followed his father without hesitating hoping it had just been a dream but it was not to be. As had been done before, Berek followed his father into the waiting arms of a slave master. This couldn’t be, Berek told himself when he first saw the man, but one look into his father’s eyes told him it was. This was the day his father sold him into slavery. It was two days prior to him being purchased by Renard for three hundred gold. All due to his father’s fear and embarrassment over his son being able to cast magic.
This time Berek stood his ground. “No, father.”
Saul’s eyes narrowed at his son‘s lack of obedience. Never thinking himself a cruel man, he blamed his son for the beatings he inflicted upon Berek the day before. After all, it was the boy’s fault for the magic. Berek got what he deserved then as he did what was to come. But Saul would not tolerate his son’s open disobedience. “Berek, do as I ask.”
Berek smiled, finding it amusing how his father sounded so warm, so friendly, and so gentle. The voice that nagged him a moment earlier spoke once more but with more urgency, that time he listened. “I don’t think so, father. I’ve seen this dance before,” Berek smiled, “this time you’re the puppet.”
Saul’s warmness evaporated and he became furious, running towards Berek. With a simple word, Berek felt the ecstasy of the magic flow through him as he raised a hand. His father was swallowed by a large, clear bubble and suspended several feet off of the ground. Berek strode over to it and locked his eyes onto those of his father. He noted with some surprise that Saul’s eyes looked resigned in the fact they tasted defeat.
“Even after all he did, I would never attack my father. Now let me pass.” His father, or the illusion of him nodded and the sight of Berek’s mother’s garden melted away to be replaced by the dark tunnel and his uncle.
Berek understood what Gilliam must’ve gone through, for even after all those years it tore at his own heart to relive that horrid day. Once they were ready to commence with their journey the end of the tunnel filled with a bright light. Together, the two men walked towards the light and what awaited.
18
Galin made his way through the tunnel behind the young women. The fact he hadn’t seen them yet didn’t strike him as strange even though they should’ve been no more than a few feet ahead of him. He didn’t notice because he was lost deep in thought. Galin’s a strange Dwarf, he knew each of his kin viewed him as such for his decision. Any Dwarf would prefer to remain below ground if given the choice, even the Hill Dwarves never lost their desire after traveling from their ancestral home below the jagged mountain range covered with the Missing Wood.
The Missing Wood was given the name by humans living near them for the people that went missing in the forests surrounding the large mountain expanse on a regular basis. The superstitious humans never understood another, older race of people lived under the mountains. Those the Dwarves hadn’t captured after mislabeling them as spies, often died through some unfortunate accident. The mist hid the dangerous peaks and curves of the mountains the Dwarves called home.
The thick forest had taken its fair share of Dwarven victims as well. It was because of one of those instances that caused Galin to exile himself from his people and choose to live above ground. With that returning memory, Galin heard the familiar rumble of a landslide. The tunnel shook as a pair of screams cut through the air chilling his blood.
“By the forge fire no.” Having never been religious, Galin muttered an oath to Crax, the Dwarven God and the forger and craftsman of the Gods.
Regardless of the danger, and the similar memory, Galin raced up the tunnel as fast as his short legs could carry him. His thoughts focused on the young human and Halfling. He could still hear one screaming, he knew what it meant even as he told himself it was only magic.
*****
They were walking side by side through the tunnel, Viola was certain she assessed the spell properly and they’d be fine. It was a feeling Janessa shared, their confidence that nothing could go wrong gave them the courage to continue. Both Viola and Berek agreed on what the spell would do, even though he wasn’t a
magician, Berek did seem wise in those things. It was at that moment the ground shook beneath their feet and the roof caved in on top of them.
For the longest time Janessa saw only black, like sleeping without dreaming. Around her was nothing, an empty void without substance, direction, or sensation. She tried to move but found her arms and legs refusing to respond, as if they were pinned by a great force. At first, she thought it was a most interesting feeling, having never experienced it before, but it was fleeting. Fear took hold of her and she tried to scream, but no sound came out, she couldn’t move her mouth to make a sound. Terrified, Janessa began to cry but no tears could fall from her eyes.
“Janessa!” She heard her name, Viola was calling her. She sounded as afraid as the Halfling felt.
“Janessa!” Again she heard her name, and she tried to answer but no sound came out. Janessa felt a sudden, pulling sensation, like she was being stretched like rubber. The source was by her head, she could feel the force as it tried to draw her towards it, with a gentle but strong power.
Viola had been calling her, that much she knew. Despite its strength, Janessa couldn’t let the unseen force win and pull her away from her one true friend. Stripped of everything, she struggled against the force with her lone weapon, her soul. Refusing to let go of Viola’s voice Janessa concentrated on its sound and Viola’s image with all her essence.
With what took far greater strength than she believed she had, Janessa pulled back, away from the strange force until she felt its grip slipping. With each passing second she felt the hold lessen until she was free. The force of her effort caused her to sit upright in such a fierce motion it tore a gasp from her.
Janessa was back in the tunnel with Viola, except something about it changed. The direction they had been heading was sealed shut by a pile of rocks and dirt and the torches they‘d been carrying were off to the side, smothered. She remembered the earthquake and looked around to see if Viola was hurt.
“Jenny…” What had been relief at seeing Viola safe changed to concern. Her friend sat on her knees in front of Janessa, the mage’s robes and face was caked in dirt. Aside from her eyes and the streaks on her face left by tears, Viola’s face matched the tunnel walls. But it was how she said Janessa’s name the last time that gave the Halfling pause. The words escaped as a whimper.
“Viola, what’s wrong?” Janessa reached out a hand to touch her friend, to reassure her everything would be alright. To her astonishment and horror, Janessa watched her hand passed right through Viola’s shoulder. “No, it can’t be…” Janessa’s eyes drifted to the ground where she sat. Her left foot and hand were all that was sticking out from under the pile of rocks. That was when she heard the loud footsteps of steel boots and looked up as Galin came into view, his face a mask of sorrow. It was then she accepted what happened. “I’m dead.” Janessa muttered.
*****
The rumble and crash of falling rocks was all Viola could remember before she looked down at the remains of her friend. A moment earlier Janessa had been full of life as they made their way through the tunnel. They had just a few feet to go until they’d reach the end, then the illusion would’ve ended. Viola would’ve sworn she read the magic right, it wasn’t there to harm them, just to test them to ensure they were worthy to continue on.
Guilt and anger swelled inside of her, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Nothing more than an easy walk through a tunnel to a vast treasure, that was what she expected. Her grief welled up in her as she took Janessa’s smaller hand in hers. Between her sobs she wiped the blood from her friend’s hand. At first she wanted to blame Berek, he must’ve known what would happen. Though she wasn’t certain why or how, she could sense a power inside of him. Thus far in her life, she never felt anything like it but yet he used no magic as far as she saw. But he agreed with her, he even mentioned the danger they’d face. Or had it been the old man always at Berek’s side? She couldn’t remember, all she was certain of was they chose the dark path. Her anger swelled in her. “He’ll pay for this Jenny, I promise.”
Janessa watched her in total confusion, “Who will? Viola what are you talking about?” She screamed at the top of her lungs trying to be heard, but she knew it was no use. “Don’t do it.” Janessa muttered to herself. Her own thoughts were along the same path as her friend’s, but she was certain no one else caused the cave in to happen.
“By Crax’s hammer! Are you alright lass?” Though they both either heard the Dwarf coming or saw him, he still managed to surprise them. Janessa noticed the concern on his face. If only she could remember his name. Gylin, Galorn, Galen… she wished she didn’t forget such things so easily. If she remembered his name, she could’ve addressed him, she knew he wouldn’t have heard her but it would’ve helped. She was sure of it.
Galin knelt next to the young human mage. She was barely old enough to begin an apprenticeship by Dwarven standards, yet she’d been forced to see something as heinous as her friend’s death. Being as gentle as possible, he rested a hand on Viola’s shoulder. “Let it out lass, it’ll help more’n you know.”
Viola lifted her dirt and tear stained face to his. He could see her pain but there was something darker in her eyes, a darkness he didn’t care to see. “He did this.” It came from her as a whisper.
“Who lass?”
“Him.” She paused for a moment in thought then spit his name out like it was poison. “Berek.”
“Oh no! No Viola, don’t!” Janessa wailed. She didn’t want to be the cause of this.
“No lass, Berek would do no such thing.” Galin tried to soothe her. He understood what she was going through; he would’ve believed it of anyone else but Berek.
Viola eyed him a moment. “Of course you’d say that, you’re his friend.” Her tears slowed as her anger took hold. “Dwarves aren’t known to be friendly towards mages, are they?”
Viola’s tone turned icy but Galin didn’t flinch. “No lass, we’re not. By Crax’s Forge, you’d best believe most Dwarves would sooner shave off their beards then look at a wizard. Tis true, I do fall into that category myself, but not like you think.”
Galin shifted his weight and sat down next to Viola, it was the least imposing position he could be in aside from lying on the ground. “I have no love for magic, but I don’t let that decide who I like or dislike. I’ve known Berek for years, he’s been through a lot more than he’ll ever tell but he is honorable. A trait not too common among humans, am I right?” He knew he struck a nerve when Viola’s eyes lowered and she nodded. “I came with him and his uncle to help them against a pair of Ogres. It was then I discovered he can perform magic.”
Viola’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “If you’ve known him for years, how could you only learn of it a few hours ago?”
Galin shrugged, “I have no answer, just that I never witnessed it before. Neither had anyone else in the company, judging by the Nursk Brothers.” He paused a moment as his gaze fell on the pile of debris that took the life of the Halfling. “My point is, I wouldn’t be here if I was against magic like you believe, nor would you be if Berek intended to kill you. He’s faced tougher opponents in the pits then the lot of us, lass.” He smiled, “Most humans only last a few matches, he’s done it for the seven years I’ve known him and longer than that. She’s not worth your anger, no--”
“Halflings are?” Viola’s rage at Berek left her as she realized what he planned to say. She knew Galin didn’t do that to Janessa. But the look she gave Galin could’ve frozen lava.
Galin sat without flinching and shook his head, continuing as though he hadn‘t been interrupted. “No one is lass, remember their lives and celebrate them. It’s what she would want.”
Galin’s words touched two hearts just then, but to her misfortune Janessa couldn’t cry. “I always knew you cared for me, Viola. But not like this.”
For the first time since she was dead, Janessa thought someone heard her when Viola raised her head as new tears found their way down her che
eks. “Then what did this?”
Galin shook his head, memories of his own youth threatened to overwhelm him. “Such is fate, lass. That’s why I curse the Gods and walk alone.”
Both Viola and Janessa watched him for a moment in shock. “I’m sorry.” The two spoke in unison, but only Viola’s voice was heard.
The Dwarf rubbed his eyes and shook his head, “Thank you lass, but now isn’t the time.” He glanced around, “We need to find another way out.” He looked over his shoulder at the way they’d come. The entrance to the tunnel was sealed by a large rock. “That’s why I don’t trust magic, it would seal us in here.”
Viola followed his motion and she understood. To Dwarves it wasn’t fear, as it was the reason for other races, that drove them to dislike magic. To them it wasn’t practical like a hammer and their other tools were. She couldn’t help but smile at her own foolishness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand, but I do now.”
Galin turned back to her, his face pale and sweaty. “It’s alright lass. I’m guilty of the same thing.” He swallowed, fighting back his growing fear. “You’ll not get me that easy you great bitch.” Galin mumbled to himself, unaware Viola heard him.
The instant he turned back to face her, Viola could tell something was wrong. In just a few seconds Galin lost all color in his face and threatened something she hadn’t seen. “Are you alright?”
Even Janessa was worried. Galin looked as if he’d join her in the afterlife at any moment.
After a pause Galin shook his head to try to clear it. He couldn’t let his fear win. “I’m fine. Think you can magic us out of here lass?”
Viola almost said yes but stopped herself. Her magic betrayed her and killed her friend. She had no idea what would happen if she tried to cast a spell. Instead, she looked down at her dead friend as if she could see her through the rock. “What about Jenny?”
For the first time Galin nearly lost control of his fear. He wanted to shout at the young mage to forget her and get the out of that hellhole but he held back, barely restraining himself. “She’ll be fine, the rocks are as good a tomb as any. Besides,” he moistened his lips, “if we move any of them it’ll cause another cave in.”
