Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  "I'll fix you up later, Head," said Gnath, and he lumbered off to do his master's bidding as quickly as he was able.

  Chapter 14

  Food For Thought

  Tyloren's resources were very low. He was hungry, thirsty and weak, but he had to keep putting one foot in front of the other in the hope it would lead him to food, water and a way out. The dark silence was beginning to play on his mind and he was trying not to allow desperation to take him. His grand plans for causing havoc for Ataxios and finding the Crystal Trove had faded as he realised more and more acutely how fragile his very survival was. He edged along the dank walls, surprised not to hear a sound; did no one ever enter these passages? He had seen no guards going in the direction of his former prison and wondered if he would have been left to starve in the dark box if the Wandmaster hadn't helped him to escape. He stopped himself from thinking, not wanting to betray himself to unwelcome 'ears' and also because his predicament was becoming worse by the minute and he didn't want to dwell on how great his need was for food and rest.

  Abruptly, the tunnel ended in a flat wall, sealed at its end. Tyloren stretched his hands up left and right and then moved along it in order to explore the surface with his hands in every direction he could reach. There were no openings, just a solid flat wall of stone. Little wonder there had been no guards coming from this direction; it was a dead end, dead as he would shortly be, he thought bitterly. He sank down on the floor to rest and drew his knees up to his chin to cover his freezing legs with his robe, huddling into as small a shape as he could make, to keep warm. His head fell forward onto his knees and he licked his dry lips, noting that he was feeling light-headed; but his senses were clear; like crystal, fine and delicate. He allowed them to heighten, could feel the cold stone under him, smell the damp darkness, taste his thirst, see the complete blackness of the surrounding dark and hear.......... the trickling of water! He was surprised out of his reveries by the last, and strained for confirmation. Yes, there it was, at the edge of his hearing range, a gentle whisper of water away to his left. On his hands and knees, he crawled back towards it, keeping to the wall; the sound grew a little louder; why hadn't he noticed it when he came past earlier? It was very faint, and he assumed he had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice it. Was it in another tunnel or chamber sealed off from his own and inaccessible? It was a possibility, but not one a thirsty man was prepared to consider until it was absolutely proved to be true. There! It was a little louder still! As he felt with his hands along the cold floor, the wall opened out into a trough at floor level and his fingers slipped into its space, and found water! He threw himself on his stomach and tried to drink from the small flow of water washing along and round the trough, but it was impossible to get his lips into the small and awkward-shaped opening. He pushed his hand into the flow and tried to cup his fingers to collect enough water to drink, but then couldn't get his cupped hand out of the small stone opening again. This was too much! He had to get to the water, it was his life-line! His sleeve had become wet in his efforts to use his hands to collect water, and that, in the end proved to be the only way to reach the water. He tugged on his sleeve until it was long enough to dip in the flow, and then he pulled it back and sucked on the moisture in the fabric. At first, he noticed the taste of the dust and dirt on his sleeve and hand, but with each new soaking, the water became fresher and little by little he felt his thirst diminish until he no longer craved for the precious liquid and took a rest from his labours. His wet sleeve made the cold more acute, but he had drunk and he felt optimistic again, though his fortunes looked no brighter, sealed off as he was by the solid wall of rock at the end of the tunnel.

  Once more, he sat against the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest, and rested. The companionship of the water was comforting and the stone around him seemed not unfriendly. There was kinship between them and the keeper of the crystal trove, and Tyloren thanked them mentally for leading him to water. He reached a hand out to touch their surface, wondering what kind or colour of rock he was leaning against, and felt a surface, smooth as glass, warmer than the stone under his body. As he ran his hand over it, he connected with its substance, and felt a hum of recognition. This was not ordinary stone, but a crystalline mass. Tyloren explored it with his hand and felt its shape, like a block with a flat top. He stood up and followed its contours with his hands; there was a second block of the same substance a little higher, almost like.... steps! He felt higher still and found a third! This was not possible, he told himself. Had he found a crystal stairway? And if so, where did it lead?

  There was only one way to find out, he thought, and planted his feet on the first stair, feeling with his hands for the one at chest height, and exploring for the next. Scrambling up step by step he climbed, perilously, feet on sheer surfaces, and hands searching for grips like some kind of insect scaling a wall. He wished he had suckers on his hands and feet, but trusted to the rocks and crystal stairs to lead him out of his darkness. He climbed, with relative ease once he had decided to trust to his good fortune and take whatever came next, and continued on upwards, always mentally thanking the rocks when he delightedly found yet another block of stone on which to plant his feet. He refused to allow himself to think that the stones would lead him to a ceiling of stone, which would cut his direction off above as the wall had in the tunnel. No; these steps would lead him out, to freedom, to fresh air! He was convinced of it. His hands reached up and he felt, with triumph and joy, an opening above his head. He climbed up through it and found himself in a new tunnel in which there was a faint light! He saw the tunnel, its walls, its curving pathway, left and right of him, and headed in the direction of the light. His heart was full, and he felt such gratitude to the crystal steps, the stones and rocks in the heart of this mountain-domain for guiding him out of the shadows. He wasn't out of trouble yet, but things were looking a lot more encouraging. Yes, much more encouraging. Now all he wanted was to see the light of day, and as he shuffled along the tunnel, the light grew greyer, then brighter until he could see everything around him. The gradual change from dark to light gave his eyes a chance to adapt, and his senses were alert for sounds of danger. It was too much to hope that he would meet no soldiers, spindly long-leggedy men, or lo's, but he would keep on heading for the light until he was forced to stop. He had nowhere else to go. Abruptly, the tunnel opened out into a large cave, which was alive with light and colour as the sun from outside shone onto the inner walls. Walls of crystal. Here and there crystalline shards caught the rays of light and played with them, making them shed colours and reflect in each other. The crystal was amethyst, ranging through all the shades of mauve and it was a sight of such beauty that Tyloren caught his breath in wonder. He felt a hum of companionship and reached out a hand to connect with a smooth crystal face within his reach. Strength flooded through him, and he allowed his tired body to enjoy the input of energy. Why was there no one there guarding this way out to the daylight? When something seems too good to be true, it generally is, he had been taught, but even though he had some misgivings, he had no choice but to go on along this unexpected path in the hope that he would find food and water so, withdrawing his hand from the wall of the cave, he walked slowly through the maze of crystals to the cave entrance.

  The view from the cave-mouth was breathtaking and Tyloren could not prevent the feeling of joy which swept through him at the sight, though he tried to guard against the unguarded outflow of emotion and thought. He shut down his mind as soon as he could and hoped he had not betrayed himself with his huge feeling of relief. The cave overlooked a great plain, not unlike Wandguard, but forested, green and fertile, wild and natural, as if it had never been disturbed by Man. Tyloren wondered at this and then tried to ascertain exactly where he was. He guessed the time to be mid-afternoon, and from the position of the sun, he must be facing north, away from Wandguard. He was either in Athrak, or had emerged on its northern side in the area known as Nithrania to Tyloren. He had heard storie
s of this land and had seen it charted on maps but had never actually met anyone who had been there, and the accounts he had heard were of cold, barren landscapes and dangerous beasts. This place was unlike anywhere he had ever learned about, and it appeared to be unpopulated. There was no pathway leading down from the cave-mouth, but the terrain looked manageable, and Tyloren could hear the gentle flow of water below him. He was alone in this garden of nature, as far as he could tell, and he took a deep breath of fresh air, shot a last grateful look back at the cave behind him and set off downwards in the direction of the water, hoping to find something edible on his way. He had somehow managed to escape the belly of Athrak's mountains, Ataxios, all his spindlies, all his lo's, and found a little bit of paradise. Things were looking up, he thought, definitely looking up.

  He was making good progress down the hillside. His way was not difficult and the undergrowth was of soft grasses, which he could move through with ease. There were no thorny bushes or roots to trip him up, and he felt sure he would find his way down to the water soon. He was already at ground level. Sure enough, as he divided a curtain of hanging vines just ahead of him, a sight of great beauty met his eyes. A sheer curtain of water tumbled down into a clear pool, feeding a river, which led down into the valley. Tyloren moved forward to the water's edge and squatted on a rock to rinse his hands and bathe his face, and he saw to his left a pool of water, trapped by a circle of rocks which was calm and undisturbed, unlike the teeming falls or the playful river which coursed away to the North on his right. He found a way to the edge of the pool and peered in. With surprise, he saw his own reflection. Gone were his cheeks and in their place was a sunken, thin face covered in unshaven bristles. He was dirty and his hair was sticking out and up in spikes. He did not recognise himself. His mouth dropped open in dismay, and he looked down at his robes, which were torn and filthy. This would not do, he thought, and though he still hadn't found anything to eat, he had sipped a little water, and felt better. He threw off his robe and slipped into the icy water. It was not too deep, and he was used to bathing in cold water back in Wandguard, but it had been days since he had been able to enjoy that luxury, and the temperature took his breath away, making him gasp.

  He gripped the rocks to steady himself, and when he felt better, he washed himself, submerging his head in the water and raking his fingers through it until he thought it might be a bit cleaner. Then, very carefully, he got out of the pool and set about washing his robe. Fortunately, the sun was warm and his teeth stopped chattering after a while, but he could not put his robe back on again till it had at least dried a little. He found an overhanging branch in full sunlight, and draped it over. The material was of a fine weave and would not take long to dry, he reasoned, and as it was unlikely he would meet anyone in this empty place he set off, naked, to explore the immediate area and look for food. His body was all loose skin on bone, white and fish-soft; he had never been a vain man, but was mightily glad no-one could see him now.

  There were no wild berries or fruits that he could see, and by now his hunger was so intense that he felt he would keel over if he couldn't find something to eat. He started to look at the grasses; maybe they were edible? He found himself kneeling at the roots of a tall tree, rummaging in the greenery when something crashed down on the ground at his side with force. He gasped, and jumped out of the way, looking anxiously up into the branches of the tree, which splayed out high above his head in a fan-shape. No movement was obvious there, so he looked to see what had fallen. A green ball, looking like a giant seedpod sat at his side. This was interesting, he thought, and picked it up. Was it a nut or a fruit of some kind? He tried to bite it, but it was leathery and very hard. Its skin had cracked in the fall, and with his bony fingers he tried to work on the crushed area to see if there was soft flesh inside. What he needed was a sharp rock, so he tucked the seed under his arm and returned to the waterfall. There he found some sharp, jagged stones, and set to work to try to open his prize. Slowly the green layer broke off, and revealed a brown, hard nut shell inside. He noticed that it sounded full of liquid, and was curious, as well as famished. He raised the nut-shell high above his head and smashed it down on a sharp rock face. To his joy, it broke open, spilling some of its juice onto the floor, but retaining some in one half of the shell. It was pure white and smelt sweet and appetising. His mouth began to water and he raised the nut and drank the liquid it had managed to retain. It was thick, like milk, clear like water, and it tasted like heaven! The shell had broken unevenly and he managed to break off a section of the nut itself fairly easily. It was chewy, but it was succulent and it was available! Wisely, he ate just a little though he badly wanted to eat it all. It wasn't a good idea to eat something unfamiliar and to fill a starving stomach with it. He felt so grateful to the tree and the nut and his face broke into a smile as he felt a little revived. His stomach was not rejecting the food, but it was not demanding more at the moment, so Tyloren listened to his body, and restrained himself from devouring the nut in one go and suffering the consequences later. He went to check on his robe, which sure enough had stopped dripping and was dry enough to wear. He slipped it on, returned to his nut and ate a little more, took a drink of water, and realised how tired he was. Clutching the remains of his food supply, he found a warm hollow among the soft grasses, in dappled sunlight, which warmed him without roasting him, and before he knew it the waterfall had lulled him to sleep, his arms still lovingly protecting the nut, which had given him nourishment.

  The warmth, the sweet air, the sound of the tumbling water and the relief of food in his stomach enabled Tyloren to sleep peacefully for a considerable time, and when he woke it was because the temperature had dropped with the sinking of the sun and he felt cold. He had been dreaming of his everyday life in Wandguard, warm clothing and the smell of fresh bread, so on opening his eyes and realising where he was, he gave a sigh as he reluctantly allowed his dream to fade. His eyes fell on the nut he had fallen asleep holding and he sat up, wincing at the hard ground under his painfully thin body, and rubbed his stiff limbs. His first thought was to drink, and then he would try to eat a little more and set about finding some shelter for the night. He stood up slowly, aware that his body was weak and that he might feel a little dizzy to be on his feet again. Everything ached, and the cold was now becoming so uncomfortable that he hugged his arms around himself as he stood for a while before setting off in the direction of the water.

  After a few cupped handfuls of water, he looked around at the thick green vegetation and thought hard. There was nothing immediately in sight suggesting itself as a possible shelter and the day was growing old. The cave he had emerged from was a long way up and he knew he had no time to reach it before nightfall, so he chose a direction away from both it and the waterfall, hoping that he would find something that would serve, but without really expecting to. He was completely alone for the first time for many a year, and would have to rely on his own resources, which used to be adequate, he thought. He must not despair. He reasoned that he was in a much better situation than he would have believed possible as compared to his experiences of the past week, and that things were not so bleak as his cold thin body kept trying to convince him they were. Again he noticed that there were no brambles or thorns to make his going hard, and he pushed through the easily relenting greenery, enjoying its soft touch on his legs. As he continued, he broke off small pieces of the nut he still carried and munched slowly and carefully. He would need water again and thought he would be able to find his way back to the waterfall easily enough as he could still hear its faint roar in the background. It was growing darker, and colder, he was shivering and his teeth were beginning to chatter. He decided to give himself another five minutes or so, and if he couldn't find anything suitable, to curl into a ball at the root of a tree somewhere and to pull the vegetation around him to try to get through the night. He looked around in the fast-fading light, saw a tall tree off to his left and plunged through the grasses towards it. He cir
cled the bole of the tree and to his delight found an area in the arms of two twisted tree-roots surrounded by dry leaves, that made a springy bed sheltered on three sides. Gratefully, he nestled into the surprising warmth of the dry vegetation, pulled at it to cover himself, and plumped himself up a little pillow of leaves into the bargain. His body was still very weak and he knew sleep would take him again soon, despite the fact that he hadn't been awake long, but before allowing himself the healing benefits of rest and sleep, he focused his mind and sought.

  Vilma was seated around her stone fire ring, gazing into the flickering flames when she heard him.

  'Vilma,' came his thought and she received him with a smile.

  'So, Tyloren, I bid you welcome.'

  Tyloren closed his eyes, relaxed into his nest and communicated his condition. No words were needed. Vilma felt tiredness, hunger, thirst, but also tremendous relief. She sensed the direction from where his thoughts came, and the distance but could not put a name to the place. There was a feeling of peace and relative safety. She had lost him completely for a while, but had not believed that he was dead. She would have known. The truth was that she had felt some sense of Tyloren from the time he escaped the black box from where she had helped him to get free, but she had been concerned not to be sought before now.

  'Rest', she returned, 'and I will be close by.'

  As Tyloren slipped into a relaxed sleep, Vilma sat, sending her strength, her presence and her comfort. Tyloren felt nourished, and Vilma kept vigil all night staring into the glowing embers, sprinkling them with a handful of scented herbs from time to time and chanting soothing words.

  When morning came, Tyloren stretched and yawned. Once again, the reality of his condition contrasted bleakly with the pleasant dreamworld he had been walking. His mouth was watering when he opened his eyes, and he could smell fresh bread! With a groan he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair to remove the leaves that had settled there. He rubbed his eyes and knew he felt better. Vilma was still close, but he gently severed the connection to allow her to get some rest, content that someone knew he was alive and very grateful for the comfort she had sent him through the night. Now it was daytime and food was an urgent need. He sat up and looked around him at the twisted tree roots and the nest of dried leaves, which had been so hospitable to him.