"Lord Menoneth," bowed Ethan formally and left, a smile on his lips.
"He's a good man. All the Guardians are good men and women."
"Yes, they are. I am fond of them all," answered John. Menoneth sat down again and patted the stone seat for John to join him.
"I have no words to thank you for what you did yesterday for my son," said Lord Menoneth
"There is no need for thanks. The wand did it, not me."
"You used the wand to give me back my son. Neither you alone nor the wand in itself could have achieved that. Together you become a force I could not have dreamed of and you give me hope."
John didn't know how to respond so he didn't. He just sat silently looking into the pool as the spring which fed it splashed and played in the mellow light.
"You have become very popular John," continued Menoneth, "and Tyloren tells me you have progressed in your work with the crystals faster than he could have hoped. Your skill at arms on the practice field are not without merit either, I am told. All in all you have become more of a Wandmaster than I could have expected in such a short time."
John felt proud of this praise from Menoneth. He knew he had changed beyond all recognition in his time in the Realm, and his old life now seemed to be less real than the present.
"The time has come for us to have a serious talk John," said Menoneth and his tone became more solemn.
John waited, watching Menoneth and feeling the weight of what he was poised to say. He probed forward trying to read what was in his mind, and Menoneth raised his head and stared into John's eyes.
"That is not permitted, Wandmaster, though I dare say you are capable of penetrating my guard."
"Sorry," said John. "I did it without thinking."
"Mmmmmm. Well, you are forgiven, but be more respectful in future."
"Yes, Sorry again," he said uncomfortably and then asked "You felt me. How did you know?"
"You are not the only one here with gifts John. You are the Wandmaster, but I am Chief Guardian of the Realm and have some powers myself, as do others. Tyloren, the priests, some of our Guardians. The young woman Jazlyn is very gifted, for example. She can sense many things."
John looked at Menoneth, trying to see if he was hinting at something, but without probing he was unable, so he dropped his eyes again and waited for Menoneth to continue.
"Have you thought about your own world, John?" John spoke quietly as he answered. He took the opportunity to ask the question he had often worried over in his quiet moments.
"Yes, often. I wonder what has happened to my body. Am I still sitting in my chair by the window? How many of my days has passed? Am.....am I still alive there?"
"Ah, good," said Menoneth, "you have not lost touch with your own reality. That is very good. Your adjustment here has been so complete that I was a bit concerned you had forgotten who you are."
"As I told you at the first Council, I am John Stone, a nobody in my world. I don't understand what I am doing here or why the crystals have decided to play this game with me but here and now is my present reality and I have accepted that. It's the logical thing to do until I find that I wake up in a hospital for the mentally ill in my own world somewhere, this whole illusion being a temporary madness. At that point I will work to get better and return to my everyday life and my mundane existence. If I still have an existence." The words coming out of his mouth and his new-found position in the Realm were making him feel bold and his experience in the Healery the previous day even more so, but practicality surfaced and he asked,
"Lord Menoneth, am I still alive in my world, you didn't answer me?"
"Very much so, John. Be assured that time in our realm works at a tangent to your own, so you could be here for a year and not see the passing of a day in your own world, or the two can synchronise. They are strangely related time-wise. You are alive and well and will remain so as long as you are also unharmed in our realm. Is there anything else you need to ask John?" asked Menoneth.
"Yes. Obviously I am not here for rest and relaxation. What you said at the Council.... about danger, the Realm being threatened, my role in your struggle, I'm very uneasy about the expectations you have of me. I thought at the time you might be exaggerating the seriousness of the situation or were just testing my reaction when you said all that, but yesterday, the 'lo',........... it's all so much to take in."
"I wish I had been exaggerating John, but we truly are in great peril. Your confirmation as Wandmaster created a shield of cover over our little encampment here, which gives us protection from prying eyes. You remember all the sparks and the resonance of the wand? That acted like a cloaking process. Outside our valley it is a very different story, and you will soon be called upon to face the danger I spoke about for the sake of all in this Realm, and not just the inhabitants of Wandguard. You will take your Guardians and leave on a quest which you alone can accomplish. I wonder if you are ready."
'Here it comes,' thought John. He had known things could not continue as they were. He was there for a reason and the time for him to play his part was coming closer.
"I am as ready as I can ever be, I suppose. I don't see that I have any other choice in this whole situation, and I just hope I can do what you expect of me, and that I can offer enough."
John felt Menoneth's hand on his shoulder.
"It has to be enough, John."
He met John's eyes and communicated the thought to him "Now you can probe, John, see what I see."
John closed his own eyes and felt his way into the thoughts of Menoneth. He heard screams, inhuman voices screeching, saw huge bug-like eyes on a monstrous beast, the Akryd, lumbering across a blackened landscape, everywhere disorder; fires burning, crops wilting, water courses dammed. He reeled back with a gasp, his breath coming fast.
"Are you ready for that Wandmaster?"
John was unable to reply. He just stared back at Menoneth. Deep, deep cold filled him and his fear tasted bitter in his mouth. Shock and terror made all his courageous words seem like stupid lies; a childish bravado.
"No-one could be ready for that." he replied.
Menoneth hung his head. "No, no-one," he agreed.
As he left the meeting with Menoneth, he considered his feelings. He felt strong and respected in this place and it had bred pride and confidence in him day by day, even a kind of arrogance. He had changed, he knew, but after what Menoneth had allowed him to see, doubts were crashing in on him with every footstep as he tried to see himself in the role assigned to him. His use of the wandpower had astonished him in the Healery, but did he seriously consider that he could take on a whole damned army of those things, or the Akryd that spawned them? Was he as skilled a swordsman and warrior as he thought he was and what good would that be anyway against the 'lo's'. By the time he fell asleep that night he had come to see how ridiculous everything was and sought rationality by trying to recall his own life back home. Here, he was caught in Menoneth's nightmare of monstrous evil and destruction and the logical side to his brain knew that he, John Stone, had no part in it. Visions of himself in Westroth's condition, controlled and lifeless, stuck to the belly of a monstrous bug filled his dreams. It was all a huge mistake.
Chapter 5
Cold Feet
John was called to a second council meeting within a few days and was once again led along the corridors to the Great Hall. Present were Menoneth, other elders who he remembered from his first appearance there, Trevorin, Tyloren and some of the priests. Gilladen and Jazlyn represented the Guardians and were seated close to him, for which he was grateful. The meeting was called to order.
"Honour to Lord Menoneth," voices were raised in the by now familiar greeting.
"Honour to you, Council members, High priests, Guardians, and to the Wandmaster," replied Menoneth. The proceedings were underway.
The atmosphere was grave, and John's mind returned to Wes, thankfully recovering quickly, and to what he had seen in Menoneth's thoughts. The Lord of the Council cle
ared his throat and stood.
"The time has come," he said "The Wandmaster approaches readiness as you must all, I think, acknowledge." There was a chorus of agreement and heads nodded all round the table. "He has come amongst us with humility and honesty, and has worked hard to become what we have asked of him, though he was plucked so suddenly from another life and brought here against his will." Again, there were nods and more mutters of agreement. John felt himself listening to the words and having to accept them as basically correct. He had allowed himself to become part of the system of the Realm and had given his best. He also felt very uncomfortable in the knowledge that it was not something he intended to pursue. His attitude had hardened since his meeting with Menoneth in the grove. He had become stubbornly attached to staying alive, and was certain that would be much easier back in his own reality. He felt certain that whatever his performance rating up to now, he had been miscast and he had to extricate himself from this situation.
Lord Menoneth continued. "Wandmaster John has seen, through me, what lies ahead, and yet he sits with us, willing to aid us in our struggle. I say that truly he is worthy of our respect and that we owe him the trust and following that he deserves. He is an example to us all, and I, for one am convinced that he will not disappoint the hopes we have all placed in him."
To John's abject surprise, everyone seated around the large table stood and bowed in his direction. He acknowledged the attention with a nod of his head, but said nothing other than a muffled "Thank you." This was going to be very difficult indeed.
Menoneth's voice again sounded through the hall as he called the meeting back to order.
"Friends and fellow citizens of the Realm, I will now lay before you and, more importantly, before the Wandmaster, the plan which has been formulated to bring order to disorder in the land outside our dwelling here on the Plain of Wandguard. Thanks to the coming of Wandmaster John, we are safe here; shielded by the coming together of the Wand and our Crystal Trove in the temple. Our cover had been growing thin and we feared discovery and worse for a time before his arrival. Fate delivered him to us in our time of need. This is not the case for the remainder of our Realm, and we are not able to ignore the plight of our people at large, unprotected and exposed as they are."
"To the east on the Plain of Remembrance have been acts of barbarity it has been my misfortune to hear in reports from our Guardian scouts. The Akryd has been growing in strength and adding to Ataxios's army of lo's which have been responsible for the brutal destruction of settlements in our immediate area.
The source of their power is the Crystal Trove in the Temple of Arthak. These precious gems have been tainted and blackened with the hatred and evil of Ataxios. He has clothed them in darkness and loathing, breathing his malignancy into their aura and blocking out all vestiges of purity. They can only be restored by the combined strength of the Wand and the hand of the Wandmaster. The Temple of Arthak must be taken, the Akryd destroyed and the Crystal Trove recovered."
John listened, his elbows on the table, tips of his fingers together at his lips. He was following what was being said very closely; He knew now what the 'lo's' were, and knew that the large beast he had seen in Menoneth's thoughts was 'The Akryd'. So, the odds were stacked heavily against him. He had no idea how he was expected to fulfill his task, and was at this moment beginning to feel a victim of a conspiracy. He had at no point agreed to go to battle against anyone, as far as he could recall. It had just been assumed that he would. Now the simple but very grounded John Stone awoke, clerk and pen pusher in Prowess and Dibbs Construction Company. What had he to do with all this? The whole situation was absurd. He had said noble things and felt strong and unassailable; a star in an action movie. And now, during this Council, they had praised his courage, made him feel indispensable and wanted to put him in a position of extreme danger which in all probability he would not survive. He would die here and never be able to return to his body in the armchair by the window in his living room. It was time to get real.
"Would anybody here care to explain to me exactly how I am supposed to achieve this feat?" he asked levelly, looking directly at Menoneth. "You mentioned a plan. Other than sending me off with my wand in my hand, I have heard nothing of a plan."
Feet shifted uncomfortably under the table and eyes were lowered. Menoneth, however, held his stare and replied,
"You are the Wandmaster. You will find a way. So it is written."
"So it is written?" queried John, ironically raising one eyebrow, "Written where? In the stars, in a contract signed in blood I am not aware of?"
"It is written in the great scroll of Maggareth," and he quoted
"When the evil rides abroad, the Wandmaster will come. He will vanquish the foe and restore order to all the Realms. And he will be revered above all men through the ages."
"But William was also a Wandmaster, wasn't he? Why didn't he vanquish the foe and restore order? And all the other Wandmasters before William, what about them? Was the prophesy only about me?" John asked, pursing his lips, not very respectfully.
There was much fidgeting and clearing of throats, but no reply. Even Menoneth had nothing to say.
John stood up, placed his palms on the table and spoke in a controlled even voice.
"There were other Wandmasters, ripped from their cosy worlds and brought here to fight your battles for you, and all of them were my ancestors by what you tell me. Why didn't they solve your problem? Were they killed? Did they fail, or find a way out of this world and back to their own? His voice was raised slightly and his eyes flashed fire."
"There were others John," replied Menoneth, "But none was acknowledged as you have been by the crystal trove. None. You, John, are the Wandmaster our Realm has been waiting for, produced through a long line of descent. If you choose not to wield the power which has been put in your hands, we are lost. What's more, you are lost! You will never find peace in any realm if you turn your back on your destiny now. The consequences of your refusal will be dire for all."
John sat still and silent and then said bluntly, "I cannot believe that. I'm very sorry, but it all sounds very story-bookish to me and there are a lot of holes in your logic. If this is real, I am hopelessly under-prepared," said John sitting down heavily. "And I need more information. You have been rather lax, gentlemen, and ladies," he shot a look at Jazlyn, "at providing certain rather colourful details about this quest. At the moment I feel you are sweeping me along on a wave of heroism. That's not my style. I need system, order and a good strategy that at least gives me the chance of getting out alive! I need to sleep on this, and to come up with a few very good reasons as to why I should put my existence at risk, and if I do, how you can at least give me a fighting chance." He was stubbornly determined not to be manipulated and this time he didn't care what anybody at the table thought about him. Hey, he only had one life to lose (well, two now actually), and though it wasn't perfect, it wasn't all bad either. He wasn't going to throw it away for anyone's sake.
"Very well, we will reconvene tomorrow at the same time, and in the meantime, John, I will provide you with the 'colourful details' you request. Come to me in the grove where we met yesterday. I want you tomorrow morning early before the meeting. Council members, I bid you goodnight." So saying Menoneth left the hall abruptly. John also stood up without speaking and moved towards the door. Jazlyn rose and placed herself at his side and he looked down at her, an ironic gleam in his eye.
"What, not avoiding me any more?" he said. She lowered her eyes, but stuck at his side and accompanied him all the way to his room. They walked in silence and when they reached his door, he bid her a frosty "Good Morning."
"No, Wandmaster John. I want to come in," she said and calmly held his gaze. She opened his door and went in ahead of him, holding it open. "Coming?" she asked.
Jazlyn's closeness in the silence of his room should have had John thinking of seduction, but instead he reeled on her in anger.
"I don't get you people!" he
yelled. "What the hell do you think you are doing? You don't have the right to bring me here without my say-so and then tell me I've got to save the world! I'm not some comic-book superhero you know. I am just an ordinary guy sucked into a situation I don't want and I am being used here! I just wish I could get my hands on the good old, loving old William Stone! No wonder no-one wanted to talk to me about him! I wish I could just throw away all his crystals, and this precious wand; bury them in the ground; drop them into the deep blue sea, anything! I want out, O.U.T, out!" he bellowed.
Jazlyn weathered the storm of his outrage, considering the floor and then raised her head.
"Finished?" she inquired
"Yes," replied John sulkily.
"Will you listen to me for a while now?" she asked in a controlled voice.
"Have I got a choice?"
"Yes, I will leave if you want," she said simply.
"No," he sighed heavily, throwing himself into his armchair. "Find somewhere to sit," he said and waved his arm vaguely around the room.
She pulled the chair over from the table beside the door and sat down opposite him, surveying him calmly. Now that he was angry with her and not mooning over her, she was able to look at him without embarrassment and he met her eyes. He was controlled, not allowing himself to be affected and with effort, said nothing, forcing her to open up and speak to him instead.
"It must seem unfair to you, I suppose," she said after a while "And to tell the truth, I had never looked at it from your point of view before. We are a world under threat, and we have been fighting desperately to hold our people together for so long, hoping that one day the Wandmaster would appear to stand with us in our struggle. I suppose we all assumed that he would be as keen to help us as we were to have him. We don't know a lot about your world, but it must be very different from ours; maybe you don't feel threatened every day, maybe your world is not so fraught with danger as ours?" John considered the crime rate, the news broadcasts, the wars, his own cosy little existence. What was more real? If he had been faced with a madman wielding an axe, or been a soldier in a foreign country obeying orders to bomb and kill, or coming under enemy fire, what would his perspective be now?
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