"Well, I will bring him to me here and then we shall see!" Frustrated and furious, he tried to take stock of his situation and felt the first pangs of doubt as he realised things were not going according to plan.
Chapter 29
Merging Pathways
Jazlyn came to. She was lying on a rough mattress in a damp, dark cell and she was cold. Her stomach felt like she hadn't eaten for days, her clothing stank of vomit, making her want to heave again, and there was nothing she could do about it. The drugs she had been forced to drink had left her with a thick head, which thumped every time she tried to move. All in all, she had seen better days. She groaned involuntarily, shivered, and curled up in a foetal position trying to conserve heat. The hammering in her head made her stomach clench and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control the tension in her body, which she knew was making the pain worse. Slowly the nausea and headache subsided enough for her to open her eyes once more and look around, though there was not much to see in the barren environment. There was one tiny square of half-light, which could be distinguished in the walls, and she assumed it was a window or vent of some description, but a window to a place slightly less dark than her cell. She next listened, trying to glean more about her surroundings, but there was only a depressing silence to add to her gloom. As she lay, she willed herself to feel better, and to try to overcome the dizzy sickness she felt. Slowly, with teeth chattering from the cold, she sat up and swayed as she dropped her legs over the side of the stone slab and bundled covering that was her bed.
As she came to her feet, her knees shook and she almost fell, but she managed to take a step or two, her hands stretched out in front of her like a blind person, trying to avoid obstacles and to explore with the sense of touch. She found a ledge on the opposite wall, on which was a jug, and she smelled it suspiciously, expecting to breathe in the whiff of the herbal potion she had been forced to drink. There was no smell, and the jug was full, so she tasted a small amount of the liquid it contained and was grateful to find it was water. She took small sips and allowed the cold water to warm in her mouth and rinse the bitterness from it before swallowing. Then she used it to wash her face, hands and chest in an attempt to lessen the sour smell. Her hands ran further along the ledge and came across a plate on which was something that might be edible. It felt like some kind of hard crust, and she sampled it by licking one edge, taking a few crumbs into her mouth and tasting them. They seemed harmless and tasteless, so she risked breaking off a corner with her teeth and turning it over and over with her tongue to allow it to soften and also to have the opportunity to spit it out if she started to experience any bad effects from it. She didn't want to eat it, but she knew that her stomach needed something solid to soak up the remainder of the drug she had been forced to drink, and also to buffer the water she so badly thirsted for.
With these few simple acts, Jazlyn began to regain her faculties. The pain in her head was manageable, and she even began to feel a bit warmer, though she kept her arms wrapped around herself in an embrace to retain the heat as best she could. She knew where she was, of course. She was somewhere in Athrak, and she knew how she had got there and in who's hands she now was. She was also fully aware that she was probably being held hostage and would be a bargaining chip for use against John.
"Curse you, Westroth!" and as she heard her voice emerge from her throat, it was barely recognizable due to her anger and the shivering, which just wouldn't pass. She wanted to reach out to John, to touch his mind and draw comfort from his strength, but something held her back, and it wasn't the effects of the drugs. She had to be careful that some predatory mind didn't pick up on her thoughts. Disconsolately, she slumped back onto the ledge and waited for something to happen; someone to come. Her weakness made her drowsy and she dropped off into a comfortless sleep again.
Though she wasn't aware of it, the door of her cell opened and a tall thin figure entered and stood for some time looking down at her sleeping form. Jazlyn could think-talk and Nya had listened in on her from time to time – she made new patterns in his mind, patterns which rose into interesting peaks of happiness, sadness, despair, anger, exuberance, and what else? Love? Even though these emotions were for someone else, Nya could bathe in them and immerse himself in their warmth. He had resisted the temptation at first, but the longer he was near her, the more he felt drawn to feel these unfamiliar taints, and he leeched off her. After delving into her troubled, sleeping mind for a while, he left and locked the door behind him.
Westroth, in the meantime, was exploring the tunnels of Athrak. There were some which were obviously used frequently, and were kept semi-lit by a few remaining pitiful creatures that had been left behind. Other passages were pitch black, and the sound of dripping water was sometimes audible from the depths. It would be dangerous to explore too deeply without adequate lighting, possibly a rope, and some back up. Nya was an unreliable element, and was in the habit of appearing and disappearing unannounced. Of course, he had grown up in these tunnels and knew his way around, but would not share his knowledge easily. It gave him a tremendous advantage over Wes and they both knew it; there was not much chance of him co-operating unless he could see some profit in it. Wes had nothing to trade.
He was in a section of the network close to the quarters of Ataxios. He had come across a large opening, and the path, which had been hewed or trodden to a very manageable surface wound down smoothly. It was wide and easy, and because the master of Athrak was, supposedly, not at home, it was a unique opportunity to venture into areas otherwise inaccessible and heavily guarded. The light in this area had a green eerie quality, seemingly emitted by a luminous covering which coated the walls – in fact it was a kind of lichen, which had the property of giving off a fluorescent bloom, making surroundings visible when the eye adapted to it. On he advanced and though he didn't want her to, Jazlyn popped into his head; but he pushed her out again with cold detachment. "Her fault," he said to himself to excuse the fact that he had delivered her to Athrak to await her fate as a bargaining chip in the hands of Ataxios. "Her fault," he said as he remembered pushing her along when she was sick and drugged. "Her fault," he said again as he remembered the sound of the bolt sliding shut on her dark prison cell. "Yes, her fault – and HIS!" He spat out the last word with venom and cursed John Stone, Wandmaster, and the man who, as he saw it in his lo-besieged mind, had taken everything from him.
Despite himself, his memory strayed to happier days before the coming of the Wandmaster to the Realm, when they were guardians and when Jazlyn's eyes had shone at their chance meetings in Wandguard. Then the memory flitted away. His heart hardened, and he muttered under his breath – slipping into a monologue between clenched teeth, with strangled gutteral sounds replacing words. As the tension mounted in him, he flashed back to the terrible day when the Akryd had made him into a ‘lo'. His footsteps faltered, the memory loomed before him; he leaned against the wall of the tunnel to steady himself, trying with all his will to force the image out of his head. The desperate feeling of helplessness, of being pinned down while the larva had been pushed beneath his skin between his shoulder blades, and the gripping pain as it attached itself to his neck bones and almost instantly started to grow. And as the hours passed, he had slowly became less aware of the foreign entity, which forced his own head down onto his chest as it enlarged and took on the characteristic sickly white hue and spiky hair. It was hard to tell, and even harder to remember at what point his brain stopped fighting for control and the alien head took over. He stopped making human sounds, and the new head on his shoulders issued clicks and whines unfamiliar to his human ears as he became the subservient and now fully transformed product of the Akryd. From then on, he simply functioned, free of conscience, desire, hope or attachment to anything or anyone. He could still recall the state of being numb and unfeeling that he experienced until he had been captured and returned to Wandguard, and the Wandmaster had performed his ‘miracle', turning him back into Westroth, second son
of the Chief Guardian, second in line for Jazlyn, and now a person to be suspected and spurned, tainted as he was by ‘Lo-dom'. The Wandmaster had done him no favours. His father, the great Lord Menoneth had always doted on Gilladen, anyway it seemed to him; he had somehow managed always to please without effort, while Wes had felt overshadowed and lacking, constantly hoping for some sign of approval from his father. It never seemed to come, and now he was a traitor, working with the enemy on top of everything else. "Well, father, at least I will have your attention now, I think." He laughed bitterly and pulled himself together, launching his back away from the rock face with an aggressive lunge forward, and continued down along the smooth rock surface of the tunnel.
Tyloren hurried ahead through the darkness unfalteringly, and the others struggled to keep up with him, especially Loman, whose bulk made the going difficult at times.
"Tyloren, wait up a bit!" called Lenora in a semi-whisper, "You're going to lose one or all of us if you don't slow down."
"Sorry, yes, sorry, but they're calling me, you see! The crystals in the Athrak Trove are calling me and it is urgent for me to reach them. The rocks, all the stone walls and the tunnels are leading me there!"
"I, too feel their magic," called Mahoo from just behind Lenora. "They can sense the freedom that awaits them, the chance to drink in and spill out light again."
"Ouch!" let out Loman as his broad shoulders scraped against a sharp rock. "How much more of this burrowing around in tunnels is there? I feel like a mole; can't see a thing. I, for one, have no sense of anything but being lost. I have never been in this area of the tunnels before."
"We're getting closer but there is still some distance between us and the Trove, yet look! There is some faint light ahead and the tunnel is widening! We must be approaching the more frequently used areas. Time for caution, maybe!"
"Let me lead," said Lenora. "If we come across any lo's or numbers, they will be less suspicious of me being here than you, Tyloren."
"True, true, but I must be close behind to direct your footsteps."
They reorganized, Lenora taking the lead, followed by Tyloren and Mahoo, who conferred from time to time, comparing internal compasses, which appeared to be leading them towards the Trove.
"Stop." Called Loman. "I'm unhappy with Lenora so exposed at the front. I want to be within striking distance if we come upon any unexpected company."
"Oh, very well then, come on up in front, but don't hinder me, and don't turn off anywhere unless I tell you," answered Tyloren, frustration sounding in his voice.
They reorganized once again, and Mahoo joined Tyloren, squeezed against the tunnel wall in order to allow Loman passage. There was some scuffling and a few grunts before they settled into their new order, and as they were about to set off again, they detected a new sound away off in the tunnels.
"Quiet!" shushed Lenora, waving her hands up and down to attract attention. "I hear something!"
They held their breath instinctively, listening intently.
"You will all pay! I will become more powerful than the mighty Wandmaster, and the Lord of the Guardians, and I will teach my big brother to respect me. And then, Jazlyn, what will you say?"
Tyloren's jaw dropped open. He knew that voice, but hadn't expected to ever hear it again, let alone in the depths of Athrak! Westroth was the reason he, Tyloren, had been captured in the first place. Menoneth's second son had always held a special place in Tyloren's affection as he had watched for years the youngster's efforts to compete with his older brother and find grace in his father's eyes. He was always one step behind; a little slower, a little shorter, a little less able socially, but a good and honest young man whose admiration of Jazlyn was blatantly obvious. Why was he here? Tyloren had been picked up by spindlies when he was out searching for Wes in the hillsides around Wandguard. He had wanted to talk to Wes , whose release from being a ‘lo', had changed his personality, and he had become broody and abrupt, but Tyloren had wanted to help him and in view of the affection he had for the lad, had gone off to seek him out.
All of this flashed through Tyloren's mind, and his first reaction was to declare his presence, but Mahoo, sensing Tyloren's emotional charge sealed his mouth with his hand and barred his way forward.
"This man is a danger to us. His mind is unbalanced. Don't you sense it?"
Taken by surprise, Tyloren allowed himself time to absorb the words he had heard coming from Wes, and to let his instincts guide him. He nodded, and Mahoo released him. The problem was that Wes was headed in their direction and the broad smooth-walled tunnel in which they were presently standing offered nowhere for them to hide, and its walls gave off a faint greenish light, which meant that the darkness no longer concealed them. They looked around in desperation, and suddenly, Lenora grabbed Mahoo and pushed him behind her back, motioning for Loman to do the same with Tyloren, and simultaneously she swept the cloak off the lo head once again. Loman tucked his own chin into his chest, for all intents and purposes, a true lo once again.
Loman's lo head started to emit sounds, clicks and whines, and a kind of throaty rasping, which acted as a warning to any creature in the vicinity. Wes stopped talking and his footsteps also halted as he recognized the lo sounds, and recalled the danger warning, from the depths of his past, brief experience as a lo. He knew he was not supposed to be in these tunnels and was surprised to find a lo there, as most had been sent to the battle field. He took heed of its warnings, hesitated, and then moved forward cautiously, reluctant to give up his exploration without at least chancing his luck until Loman lumbered off in Wes's direction, and Tyloren tagged along behind, staying out of sight behind the tall broad shape.
The agitated lo on Loman's shoulders, freed once again from its concealment and sensing home territory, urged Loman's feet forward at a trot and Wes saw the approaching lo waving its arms and apparently raging as it approached him. Intent as he was on his explorations, he was still wise enough to keep out of harm's way if at all possible, and decided to turn on his heels and go back the way he came, at least for the present. Loman, struggling to contain his extra head's excitement raised his chin and saw the disappearing form of the young man making back up the tunnel, so he forced his feet to slow, his arms to stop waving, and his head up, pushing back the lo head into a position where sound issued with difficulty from its throat and it could only look up at the ceiling. He walked backward, nearly stomping on Tyloren, and was soon gathered into Lenora's practiced arms and the big black cloak.
In the meantime, Tyloren, momentarily distracted from his quest for the crystal trove, sensed another mind he knew well.
"Jazlyn!" he breathed in astonishment.
Having woken again, she lay with her arms wrapped around her defensively, on her stone ledge, Jazlyn was in a state of despondency, and was trying to sink herself into a deep sleep. Her eyes snapped open and she answered, "Tyloren?"
"You feel close! Where are you?" In a flash, Jazlyn sent thought pictures of her cell, and how she had got there.
"I'm in a cell in Athrak! Bait to catch the Wandmaster."
As this interchange was taking place, swift footsteps approached her cell, and the door was unlocked and thrown open to reveal an agitated Nya standing in the doorway holding a flask of the foul drug he had forced down her throat before.
"Little priest here! You not think-talk! No!"
He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and bent her head backwards, pouring the bitter liquid into her mouth, but she had found hope and strength in her contact with Tyloren and she sealed the back of her throat. With supreme effort, she spat the whole mouthful of liquid into Nya's face. Not only was it bitter, but it apparently stung eyes. Nya was taken completely by surprise, not expecting resistance of such ferocity, and his hold loosened on her neck. The liquid had made her skin slippery, and she took the opportunity to squirm out of his grasp, bent her head and charged it into his stomach, winding him and causing him to stagger. Some of the liquid had spilled on the floor, and
his feet slipped in it, so that he crashed down heavily onto his back. Jazlyn wasted no time. She was out of the door and shut it before the spindly could recover his senses. She slid the bolt home and dropped to the ground, her back now against the outside of the door, feeling completely spent, as the nasal protestations and curses bounced off the walls of the inhospitable cell Nya now inhabited.
Tyloren was not a witness, as such, to the whole scene, but he felt Jazlyn's desperation, and then her sense of relief at her escape. He also knew she was in very poor shape and his own hunger and thirst while in captivity in Athrak made him acutely aware of how great Jazlyn's need was.
"A change of plan." was all he said to Loman and Lenora. He looked at Mahoo, who had sensed at least part of the communication with Jazlyn, but he shook his red locks anxiously, placing his hand on Tyloren's shoulder.
"We must act now, Tyloren. The Trove is more important."
"You go, Mahoo. The tunnels will guide you. I must get to Jazlyn, and then I will come and help with the Trove!"
"I don't understand, Tyloren."
"I was once trapped here, and this young woman was among those who helped me to escape. I owe it to her for one thing to return the favour, and for another, she is very important to our Wandmaster. She must be kept safe. Her importance to Ataxios could be as great as that of the Trove!"
"We must go after the Trove, Tyloren!."
The two stood eye to eye, and Mahoo could see Tyloren's dilemma. A voice interrupted their thoughts.
"It's a good thing you think so loud Tyloren!" and from behind him out of the darkness trotted Jazlyn. As she reached the group, she caught sight of Mahoo, Loman and Lenora, and she halted. Unguarded thoughts can be dangerous, and Tyloren was not the only one to become aware of the developing situation. Ataxios, though under-protected, was not about to miss this opportunity.
Wandmaster Page 38
