Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  After brief goodbyes, Melindra and Cammaneth left to join up with their fellow-villagers, and Vilma, John and Menoneth departed in the opposite direction to join the Guardians, all assembled and waiting at the edge of the forest, ready to take whatever lie in their path on their journey into the heart of Athrak.

  Into the wooded gloom, the line of guardians threaded. The events of the last two days had subdued the high spirits, which had been so much in evidence on their arrival in Kinguard, and especially in the case of those who had seen Melindra's terror and heard her shrill screams as she experienced her vision at the welcoming festivities. John, filled with an intense mixture of feelings, struggled to keep his mind off both pleasant and unpleasant memories while at the same time trying not to think about where he was going and why. This left little for him to think about and he consciously brought images to the forefront of his thinking which had nothing at all to do with the dark crystal world. From time to time he felt the nudges of a mind at the edge of his consciousness but shut all doors, not wishing contact with anyone, not even Jazlyn in his present state.

  Menoneth and Vilma were in the leading group and when John looked up, he often saw them exchanging looks and comments, but he had no desire to know what they were talking about. He was sure he knew and none of the subjects they were bound to be concerned with were pleasant as far as John was concerned. Indeed, it was difficult to find a topic he could safely think about without feelings of guilt, anger or fear creeping in, and he found himself taking shelter in the old familiar grind of his life in what he now thought of as ‘the other world'. Pictures floated back into his mind's eye that gave him a comfortably solid place of refuge, and he tried to convince himself that they were important. Try as he might though, the supermarket, his house and his job at Prowess and Dibbs could not hold his attention long enough for him to forget Jazlyn, the Akryd and Ataxios. Which was real and which illusionary, was not now the question perplexing him, but rather, which reality he belonged in most, and if he, in fact had now separated into two entirely different people and belonged to both worlds equally. It was all beginning to give him a headache when a voice at his side asked,

  "Are you alright, Wandmaster? You're not looking too good." John looked into Maylene's concerned face, and smiled his first smile that day.

  "I've had better days, Maylene," he answered ruefully. She thumped him heftily on the shoulder and grinned.

  "If this is as bad as it gets, you have nothing to worry about. I think you might need that serious look later. Meantime, chin up and be the Wandmaster you are. There are a lot of us here who need to see you strong." She was right. John accepted the rebuke and resolved to put on a better face. He had friends and he had to care for them.

  The countryside was unfolding before them. They trekked, mostly in silence steadily northward, and as the day wore on they found themselves in a grassy area of open land with little shelter. Jet called his guardians to a halt and engaged in conversation with Menoneth. Then, he raised his voice to address them all.

  "This is not a good place to rest or set up camp. It's too exposed. We'll carry on for an hour or two yet, till we reach the foothills of the Heghlin range. We'll settle there and set out tomorrow morning to take the pass to the east up to the Fourways. John remembered the charts Maplin had shown him of the Fourways plain. It was many metres high, and a waterfall cascaded down into it from the western face of the Heg, the highest peak in its perimeter. The waterfall was known as Thunder Falls for the sound of its roaring force. Its waters formed a large lake, which emptied into four different rivers, the Suryana, the Athra, the Yealder and the Mallenin. The rivers coursed through the land, in various strengths, collecting water from sources on their descent and building into the mighty Suryana to the south, or into the Athra which, as its name declared, flowed north into Athrak, and the two lesser rivers which moved off roughly east and west. A tidy arrangement on the map, John recalled thinking when he had studied the geography of the realm. He was curious to see it at first hand.

  Night fell, and the company was audible rather than visible now. They were all weary and there was little conversation as they marched on empty stomachs and tired feet, feeling hungry rather than sociable. Where they would get supplies was a mystery to John, once the rations they carried on their backs ran out. 'If an army marches on its stomach, we're not going to get far,' he thought, recalling the old adage. After what seemed like much more than a couple of hours, the terrain changed and the going became more unpredictable, so that they had to slow to avoid stumbling over hummocks of rock and coarse shrubbery.

  Once more the company halted, and they all sincerely hoped they had reached a safe campsite. They had marched their fill and were tired and ready for rest. Thankfully, the foothills afforded many sheltered nooks and there was a supply of fresh water, which ran in little rivulets, providing cool drinking springs, which were more than welcome to the company. They made camp in groups, where they found suitable shelter and eagerly unwrapped their rations of cured meat, cheese, bread and dried fruit. It wasn't very warming, but it was filling at least.

  John's group consisted of Maroth, Zak, Tye and Todd, whether by accident or planning, four of the older and most serious guardians. He liked them but they were not the liveliest of companions, which was probably for the best as he himself was still not in the mood for small talk. So, after the meal and a visit to the designated latrine area, he laid out his bed roll and snuggled as best he could into a not-very-comfortable position in a craggy nook, and thought ruefully ‘Between a rock and a hard place, in more ways than one'.

  Just as he was dropping off to sleep, a high-pitched whine broke the night, far away in the distance. It was unlike any sound he had heard before, and it meant something to him deep within his sleep-confused head, something threatening and sinister, like a siren blasting a warning. And he knew it was all for him.

  Chapter 22

  Into The Shadow

  As the days went by and the landscape changed, it struck John that the guardians were sparsely armed and that they were all infantry. It wasn't like any army he had ever read about and the lack of tanks, heavy guns, air transporters, bombers and all the accoutrements of modern warfare made the whole thing seem archaic and unreal, which maybe it was, he pondered as he trekked his way northwards near the head of the company. It was more like being a chess piece than a soldier, and his role in the game was central, which made him the King; if he fell, the game was lost. He had always felt that the King on the chessboard was hampered by his inability to move more than one square at a time and hoped that in this particular game, the crystal wand would give him an added advantage. What kind of dark magic would Ataxios have to hand to counter the wand? Images of the Akryd played before his eyes like a movie, as he had seen it in a vision in Menoneth's garden back in Wandguard. He shuddered as he remembered Westroth in his lo state, and envisaged the horrifying process he must have endured during the transformation into the two-headed beast. John remembered how he had fought to restore the young man to humanity again, and how much strength it had required. How much more would it demand to tackle the Akryd, let alone Ataxios himself? John felt unequal to the task and even though the Guardians and all their training backed him, he felt that the enemy had the upper hand by a long margin.

  Althea's smile flashed before his eyes in pale clarity, and anger surged through him for her murder. Nya. The spindly, clearly lacking in humanity, had mercilessly killed her, but guilty as he was, he was yet another product of the terrible evil of Ataxios. Where, John asked himself, did individual responsibility take over from an upbringing rooted in perversion and cruelty? Where was the cut-off point between what a man was forced to become and what he might otherwise have been? Whatever the answer to that question, the fact remained that Nya had killed Althea and that classified him as dangerous and meant that if John came up against him again, he would have to treat him as a murderous felon and not as the whimpering and mistreated child John had seen b
eing abducted in his insight into Nya in the temple. With shame, John acknowledged to himself that his own treatment of Althea had been anything but sensitive, and his own guilt made him even angrier at Nya. The fact that he had also endangered Jazlyn by putting her at risk and almost into Nya's hands together with the wand of power left him feeling weak-kneed, and a groan escaped his throat as he relived his experiences of the night with Jazlyn in the forest.

  Up and ever up they climbed, and the cold began to bite as they trudged the footpaths that wound along the rock faces. As they gained height, the plains and forests opened up below them and the geography John learned from Maplin began to take on form and shape. They were headed to the Fourways, and the mighty water sources, which spewed from the mountaintops and fed the Realm's rivers. On one of his pauses for breath, John detected movement in the rocks below the party of Guardians and called to his companions. They scanned the low lands to their rear, and Todd and Zak separated from their small group and slipped, almost invisibly back down the track to check things out. John, Tye and Maroth closed the gap on the company ahead of them in order to pass on word of their suspicions to Menoneth and Jet.

  At their approach, the leading group halted and menoneth's eye came to rest thoughtfully on John, as though he were assessing his worth, and John didn't blame him if he had his doubts. He, himself was none too sure of his attributes. At the report, Menoneth just nodded, as though he was expecting it, and turned to Jet.

  "Time to make camp?"

  Jet looked around, and motioned to a track about 100 metres higher up which seemed to disappear into the rock face. It reminded John of the way into Wandguard valley when he had first entered the crystal and met Gill, and he was not surprised when the path meandered around and into the boulders, emerging onto a broad plateau which overlooked a rocky plain. Little springs opened and poured down the sides of the rock walls at the outer edges of the shelf, providing fresh drinking water, and the whole area was surrounded and invisible to enemy eyes. As John emerged onto the shelf, he relaxed and realized just how tense he was becoming as he got ever closer to Athrak. Here he felt secure, though he supposed it would be easy to ambush if its whereabouts were known. For the moment, anyway, John felt that was unlikely, and wandered across to the nearest spring to quench his thirst with cool clear water. Icy to the touch, it hurt his teeth and when he splashed it on his face, the cold wind bit into his wet cheeks and left him smarting. And very hungry!

  He rummaged into his pack and pulled out a little stale bread and cheese forlornly. Maylene was a big girl and her appetite equaled any man's, but she wasn't fussing in her bag or looking concerned about food. She was perched on a flat rock looking down into the plain, waiting patiently. John sighed, and moved over to join her. He asked the inevitable question.

  "What happens about food, Maylene?"

  "It's on the way," was all she said, but that didn't answer John's curiosity.

  "On the way how?'

  "By special delivery," she grinned.

  "But nobody knows where we are, do they?" he asked.

  "Oh we have our communication lines. I'm surprised they haven't asked you to help in sending directions, but you are a bit preoccupied I suppose. Vilma has no doubt been busy."

  John remained puzzled. Even if thought messages had been sent, the distances they had covered were great, and supplies would take days to arrive, he thought. He was pondering the problem when Maylene suddenly pointed into the distant sky above the plain, and announced.

  "Here comes supper!"

  Following her pointing finger, John saw a cloud of movement on the horizon, even though it was dark. It was a denser shade of black, and it glinted in the light of the night stars and the moonlight. What it was, John couldn't see. It wasn't an aeroplane, it was silent, at least so far, but as it drew closer, he could hear a soft whirring of wings. It was something like a cloud of insects, each one large enough to carry a man, and John thought about the Akryd in panic. Were there other enormous insect beasts in this strange place that he was unaware of? These were more like dragonflies he saw and, indeed, the leading member of the group was being ridden like a horse by a rider who was holding reigns and appeared to be scanning the rocks in search of where to put down. The plateau where the guardians were encamped was large enough for one or two, but not for all of them. And then it started to rain bundles of supplies as the cloud of dragonflies circled above them, releasing their burdens one by one, apparently at the directions of the rider on the lead beast. The guardians began darting into the plain and scooping the bundles out of the way and stacking them at the rocky sides of the drop site until they stopped coming and the insect-cloud started to move off into the distance.

  The rider of the first dragonfly circled the plateau, and gently led his mount down to land. As he dismounted, the guardian uniform became visible, and in a flash of recognition, John saw that it wasn't a he but a she.

  "Jazlyn!" he exclaimed.

  She acknowledged him briefly, with more warmth in her eye than John could have hoped for, and moved off to speak to Vilma, who kissed her on the cheek, and Menoneth, who was shaking his head in exasperation.

  "It had to be me," she was explaining. "There was no-one else who could hear the thought directions. The usual flyer had a head cold and couldn't be healed quickly enough to bring out the supplies from the hill camp. Call it fate." Vilma was wearing a half smile, and Menoneth was looking as if he felt he'd been tricked.

  Food was being unpacked and handed out, but John's attention was now elsewhere, and Maylene suddenly thumped him on the back, bringing him back with a jolt.

  "Thought you were hungry, Wandmaster. Here, have a chunk of pie!" She smiled, and put a large wedge of savoury pie in his hand. It melted in his mouth as he took the first bite, and in no time at all, he had finished it in hungry gulps, and he soon turned his attention to filling himself up with the newly arrived supplies. The dragonfly was jittery and its reigns were being held by one of the other guardians while Jazlyn gave her report, the other members of the cloud of insects having flown off, presumably back to base. But, all the time John was eating, his eye was constantly searching for Jazlyn, watching her familiar movements, the toss of her head, the shrug of her shoulders, the way she stood. 'Get a grip, man, now is not the time', he scolded himself. 'It would keep,' he thought. 'Yes, it would keep.' As Jazlyn extracted herself eventually from Menoneth and Vilma, she turned to search for John and found his eyes fondly glued to her and waiting, which made her feel hot and breathless, and the smile that spread across her face was like the warmth of the sun to John. Memories and feelings filled both of them and as they approached one another, the need for contact was irrepressible. They touched fingers and Jazlyn interlaced hers with his lightly for a moment before releasing her grip and stepping back away from him.

  "I have to go. But listen for me. I have been sending to you but you have closed down. You need to use all your senses now. Don't cut your communication lines." John realized he had been doing just that. His guilt had clouded his instincts and he had lost his ability to hear in his head.

  "I'll try to be more receptive. Are you ok?" he asked concernedly.

  "Better for seeing you," she replied. "I don't know if I'll get another chance like this as I've been banished to the hill camp, but I hope so. In the meantime, keep safe and think of me. I'll be with you in your head if you'll let me in, no matter how far apart we are."

  He answered her with his mind in a flood of affirmation whose heat made her flush, and she returned it in kind. They both laughed at the intensity of their thoughts and then she reached up and pecked him on the mouth, gently touching his cheek with her hand.

  "Come back to me when all this is over."

  He didn't reply. Just nodded and smiled. Then she was mounting her oversized dragonfly and taking off into the night sky, silhouetted against the black. That night, John slept well, his stomach full, his head resounding with Jazlyn, and for once, his fears subjugated by other
more pleasant thoughts.

  The backpacks were heavier the next morning, but the knowledge that there was food in the extra weight made it a very acceptable burden. Hunger is not a traveler's friend, and strength soon wanes on an empty stomach, as does courage and John had begun to droop before the arrival of the food supplies both physically and mentally. Today he was fed, and grimly determined to keep to his task.

  The pace was a little quicker and, even though the going was rough, by late morning, the roar of a great falls was beginning to become audible as they trekked on ever higher. Small rivulets began to appear, coursing down the hilly slopes and they often had to jump them in order to make progress upward. The voice of the falls becoming ever louder awakened something within them and they started to increase their own volume, shouting remarks to each other as they went, and in the midst of the now excited babble and banter, a strong voice lifted in song.

  Over darkened vales

  Where the cold wind wails

  And there's never a comfort found,

  We'll walk on strong

  And it won't be long,

  Till we reach the battleground

  Till we reach the battleground.

  Through forests deep

  Where the tree folk sleep

  And the shadows are all around,