by Ayre, Janice
The afternoon was sunny and clear and there were few people around. Brock could have enjoyed the outing, had he not felt a troubling sinking feeling. What he was troubled about he wasn't sure, only that there were many events of the past weeks that left him raw and vulnerable.
They walked in silence until they reached the park. Zebulon, who had been much more instructive and open to conversation than normal, had once again closed off into his own mind and shut Brock out. Brock did not know how he could be admitted into this private world and could only wait to be enlightened as to Zebulon's intentions.
As they reach the spot where Brock had met Orville, Zebulon stopped. His eyes were dark as he glanced at Brock, asking a silent question. Brock responded with heightened colour and a downcast look.
"So this is where you met Orville?" A small muscle stood out on Zebulon's jaw.
"Yes."
"Tell me about it again."
Reluctantly Brock recited to Zebulon, the first meeting with Orville. Now that he stood on the spot, the full emotional impact hit him once more and he trembled visibly. The impact of his remembrance and the intensity of Zebulon’s gaze unnerved Brock. He began opening and closing sweaty fists in his agitation. Zebulon seemed to tower over him and Brock felt a new threat, not of physical violence but of mental and emotional probing. There was nowhere to hide.
Zebulon, although observing every emotion travelling through the unfortunate elf, pressed on with his interrogation. He had his reasons for getting Brock to relive the beginning of his trials.
"So you felt relieved when you found you were not going to get a thrashing? What other feelings did you have when you discovered that Orville intended to befriend you?"
"I feel sick. Can't we talk about this another time?" Brock felt like a cornered rat, and the vividness of his imagination took him to his unfriendly encounter with the cat. He glanced up at Zebulon with an expression of fear.
"I would like to leave it, but it needs to be discussed now, while it is fresh in your mind. Besides, we have little time, and if we are to continue on together then we must have understanding. Come, sit over here," said Zebulon, indicating a bench under a large shade tree.
As they sat, Brock tried to organise his thoughts. "I was surprised."
"Surprised that Orville would be so friendly after he had bullied you at the farm?"
"Yes. But he explained his reasons. He was very persuasive."
"I'm sure he was...but then you like to take the line of least resistance, don't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You want to please everyone and avoid as much effort as you can at the same time."
"Why would that be wrong?" Brock asked indignantly.
"It's good to take an easy way, and also to please others, as long as it is the way you should be going. You have got yourself into enough trouble by not being true to yourself. Now, regarding your feelings about me. Why were you so convinced that you couldn't trust me?"
Brock had dreaded this question. He watched some ants making their way along a little ant track, carry their spoils to the nest. He wished at this moment that he could be travelling the same path away from here. He mumbled something under his breath. Then he felt a determined finger under his chin pushing up so he was forced to meet his companion's eyes.
"I can't understand you. Don't talk to the ants, they are not interested in what you have to say," said Zebulon in a tense tone.
"I...I felt so isolated when we left the farm...and you were so distant...I was afraid to confide in you," stammered Brock.
"So it is my fault?" The question was asked in a casual way, with no condemnation or hurt.
"No, I didn't mean that!"
"Then what?"
"I should not have been fearful. Even though it was difficult I should have asked you more questions and told you of my concerns."
"Yes you should have."
Both became lost in their own thoughts. Brock could not tell if the wizard was angry with him, and he dared not look at him. He jumped like a guilty dog found raiding the rubbish heap when Zebulon finally spoke.
"You are beginning to understand, young lad. And I owe you an apology. I am not the easiest to talk to and I need more space mentally than most people. Come, we should return to the inn." Zebulon rose as he finished speaking.
"But I need to understand what happened to me, in those lonely days of doubting...about the opal"
"I was wondering when you would have the courage to bring that up. That part has been missing from your story so far.
Brock glanced up in surprise. "You knew about that?"
"Only when I found it misplaced in my bag. Now that is enough for now. We will talk later after we have had our meal."
There was to be no more talk that evening as it turned out. Zebulon socialised with the family for a long while after the meal. He talked and laughed with Uri as though he had no care in the world.
Brock, meanwhile, worn out by the bruising to his soul, and injuries he had sustained, went to bed early. Even though he was anxious to know more about the opal and receive explanations from Zebulon, his body demanded he obey its needs in the healing process. He was in a deep sleep by the time the wizard came to their room.
Chapter Fourteen
Lessons in Magic
"This is the way we will be travelling when we leave here," said Zebulon to Brock.
After an early morning breakfast with Uri and family, before the busy schedule of the day had begun, the two had ridden south of the village, a route which lay between the old mine they had left and the mountain where Brock had been held prisoner. They had not gone far from the village but it could already been seen that the country was quite different from any of the surrounding areas.
Zebulon was using this day to scope out and plan their future trip as well as to spend uninterrupted time with Brock. He knew it was of great importance for real magic lessons to commence. No discussion had been made in relationship to the conversation of the previous day, but the subject was on the mind of both the wizard and the elf.
The look of the country they were entering, was transforming into a mixture of unusual rock formations that invited further exploration and in other parts, unusually lush growth.
Zebulon dismounted. "Today we will begin your training in earnest. Are you ready for it?"
"I really want to learn," said Brock as he slid down from his horse.
Zebulon gathered up some rocks at the side of the track. "Good, then let us begin. As you learn magic, I want you to understand the real power of it, rather than only making a collection of spells for entertainment." Zebulon paused long enough for Brock to recall his original reasons for learning magic. "Collecting spells is fine for the hobbyist but not for the serious student. Spells merely learned may be necessary at first but the magician's power increases considerably when there is understanding along with knowledge." He lightly tossed the small quartz stones into the air. "What do you know about rocks?"
"Some can be colourful. Some are plain. I haven't been much interested in rocks...except for the opal. Is that a rock?"
"It is a gemstone, different from other gemstones. Unlike others, it is non-crystalline because it has encapsulated water. It is a beautiful but delicate stone."
"So why did it make me feel the way I did?"
"So, how did it make you feel?"
"Well...I told you...it made me feel good." Here Brock paused and looked swiftly across at Zebulon. "Until I was under the spell."
"Yes! You haven't told me about that yet." Zebulon frowned.
"I meant to. When I first held the opal it made me feel good. I felt hopeful and full of energy." Brock paused as memories flooded into his mind. Zebulon remained silent, allowing the elf to collect his thoughts.
Brock continued. "But once I had the dream, everything was different."
"When I was an evil wizard?"
Brock gave a half smile. "Yes. It was so real. And then when I woke you were standing be
side my bed...you seemed even more a part of the dream. I could hardly tell which was real any more."
"Oh I know. The herbal tea was punished for that! But I could not ignore you. You were groaning and thrashing about. It really was a terrible noise. I wondered at your torment."
Brock continued."After that, I was full of doubt. I feared everything. I didn't trust which was reality and which was a dream. I felt weak and hopeless. That's when I remembered the opal and how good it was, how it energized me. I thought it could help me again. You let me hold it before, I didn't think you would mind me taking it out again. But when I held it, instead of the energy I had expected, I was driven into the depths of despair. My body and my mind hurt. I could not leave it alone, I was obsessed with it, wanting almost for it to give me pain. Reality slipped away from me, yet I did not believe it at the time. When I thought I saw the intruder, nothing at the time would have convinced me he wasn't real. I was even more terrified of you because you didn't care. I could not talk to you. You seemed cruel and callous and I feared you greatly. But I felt guilt too for thinking that way, and for taking the opal. I still feel ashamed. I didn't think you knew and so I have been hiding that information from you."
" I have waited for you to tell me...of your own free will. It was the only way you would rid yourself of those feelings." Zebulon spoke quietly and his words gave the elf comfort.
Brock ceased speaking as he experienced the vivid recall of those dark days. He could still feel the all consuming hunger for the opal and the inflicted pain.
"Gemstones, rocks, they have their own energies," said Zebulon. "They have elements such as minerals and oxygen that are also found in our bodies. How they interact with us depends on what minerals they possess. With opals, part of their composition is of water as it is with us. This makes it possible for them to correlate with our emotions. The interaction of both liquid bodies clarifies any situation by amplifying and mirroring feelings, buried emotions and desires. It gives power to our visualisation and our imagination. Also it excites vivid dreams”.
"The opal with the inner red is particularly good as an enhancer of personal power, awakening our inner fire. This is what you first felt. It is extremely sensitive to the energies and vibrations of the wearer, projecting the exact same vibrations as the bearer of the stone. It is a wonderful manifestation stone”.
"But this same quality can be a disadvantage. Your negative vibrations will also take on greater power. If you are feeling negative, you will compound the issue, which is what happened to you. Your doubts and dismal thoughts were already magnified by the spell so the combination of both energies pushed you to a point of insanity”.
"The further interesting thing about opals is that they contain all of the qualities of other stones. And as such, an opal may be charged with virtually every type of energy used in all spells involving magical needs. For this reason they are favoured by many magic users to develop psychic powers. In time you will learn more."
"I feel as though I have learnt too much already," said Brock. "But at least I know a little better, why the opal did that to me."
"Now it is time for some more practical lesson in magic. Let me see how you are doing with moving stones. See this stone, take it from my hand to yours." Zebulon held out his hand on which rested one of the quartz rocks he had been holding previously.
Brock was made to reach for it with his hand. Zebulon gave a deep laugh. "With magic, young lad!"
Brock went through the motions and words he had learned for moving stones. At first nothing happened for his practice and been undisciplined and spasmodic. Finally, after great effort the stone quivered but would not move.
"That's enough." Zebulon sent the stone to Brock’s hand then drew it back again to his own upturned palm in a fluid, effortless action. "Try again."
Brock concentrated and managed to take the stone from the wizard's hand but it flew past his own waiting hand.
"Very good. You will improve your aim in time. Now I am going to teach you a new spell. I will teach you the words and you will have to repeat them over and over until they feel a part of you. This is a spell that has no visual component so you may be unsure if anything is happening at all. What I want you to do is to remember the tingling you felt when you made the stone move. That is the magical energy being activated. When you feel that happening you will know that it is working. The stronger the feeling, the more powerful the spell."
Zebulon gave him a group of almost unpronounceable words and had him say them over and over until he could say them with clarity and correct intonation. "This is a protection spell," he told Brock. "You can use it for yourself or to protect another."
"Will it protect me from Mustafa?"
"Yes it can, but remember, Mustafa is a powerful wizard, it could still be difficult. But keep practising, for if that is the only spell you can do, and do well, it can be strong even against someone with greater power."
"Is Mustafa more powerful than you?"
"That is difficult to say. We have never worked against each other or entered a competition. How you use your magic is more important than strength... most of the time."
While Brock recited the new spell repeatedly, Zebulon wandered around the surrounding area. Later he came back and rested his back against a small limestone wall and closed his eyes. If Brock stopped his recitation he would open his eyes and stare at him. This was enough motivation to keep the elf working.
After a while Zebulon became very quiet and Brock wasn't sure if he was meditating or sleeping, but he suspected it was the latter. But it mattered little because now the wizard left him alone. The combination of the pleasing meal Minerva had prepared for them and the warm afternoon caused him to become drowsy and he dozed off a few times, only to wake still reciting the new words.
Zebulon was pleased with Brock's commitment to learning the spell as he listened to him, having to correct only a few words. "Once you have finished learning it well, I will give you a test. Now it is time to return to the inn. Collect your things."
Brock was happy that he had pleased Zebulon. As they rode back to the village he felt a sense of achievement. He also felt incredibly weary.
Zebulon noticed him slumping on the back of his horse. "Careful you don't fall off. The use of magic will drain your energy, you must always try to keep some reserve. In time you will learn how to manage that."
By the time they reached the village the sun was setting. Splashes of rich pink were washed across the western sky, while long shadows gave a cool and restful aspect to the landscape. Brock was ready to curl up under one of the big shady trees.
Zebulon gave him an indulgent smile. "By the time we wash and change our clothing, it should be nearly time to eat. Then you can go to bed early."
Mealtime was pleasing as usual, but most of the conversation made little sense to Brock's dull mind. He enjoyed the meal but ate little. Elvira was concerned for him so she rose from the table and came and stood behind his chair. She placed her hands gently on each side of his face and drew it up so that she could look at him.
"The swelling has gone down and the cuts are healing well, but look at those bruises!" she exclaimed. "And what have you done with him Zebulon, his eyelids are so swollen with want of sleep he can barely see out of them?"
It was true, Brock felt so fatigued his body ached and every muscle cried out for repose. He gave Elvira a weak but grateful smile. It was good to be fussed over. She let his head return to a normal position and patted him on the shoulders.
Minerva was dishing out a rich creamy dessert and Elvira quickly scooped up the first bowl and placed it before Brock.
"Have this and then straight to bed for you," she said kindly.
"He has done very well today. I'm very pleased with him," said Zebulon.
Brock felt an inner glow. He was not used to Zebulon being so ready with his praise. As he left the gathering to retire for the night, Zebulon called to him.
"You can rest for the nex
t few days. I will be purchasing supplies for our trip and you need the time to regain your health and strength."
As Brock drifted into a peaceful slumber, his last thoughts were of the wonderful little family downstairs in the inn. He was lulled to sleep by the strains of Minerva's instrument as her nimble fingers accompanied her mother's singing. As Elvira's clear voice rose and fell with the melody, Brock’s thoughts centred on his mother, and on his home, security, and on love.
Zebulon, seated with the other guests in the inn, enjoyed the music, talked with Uri and let himself be taken from his trouble and find rest. He thought of the young elf, of how he had developed. He had noticed his jaw become firmer and his features more defined with coming manhood. He was pleased that the growth was inward as well as outward.
Uri left to help his wife with some chores. As the two went about their work, Zebulon observed their inaction with a feeling of longing. He had observed their silent looks of communication and understanding. To the casual observer, Uri seemed a simple person, but Zebulon knew there was much more to him; a goodness that was rare. Some may believe that he would not be over endowed with much intuition, yet he and Elvira had a quiet affection, seemly ordinary, which was a deep, enduring love. Zebulon yearned to reach that level, but he and Saniyah were passionate, explosive individuals and Zebulon wondered if it was possible. Were there some restless souls destined to always live at the very heights and lows of their love?
As a singer's haunting tones filled the air, Zebulon allowed his thoughts to travel back in time and see in his mind the face of Saniyah. He wanted to see her face, peaceful, smiling, but he could not hold the image. Always her face would mirror his own relentless condemnation and drift between anger and sadness. He could not hold her sweetness in his mind and he sighed in regret and longing, at the same time passing his hand across his eyes. He did not realise he had verbalised his feelings until a kindly hand was placed on his arm.
