by Cole Pain
Morrus nodded. “When the One first arrived the elders on the High Committee were allowed to speak with him. They were convinced by his words. If Barracus comes through the Eye and enters someone with your power there will be no defense.”
An image of the Oracle’s painting flashed through Ren’s mind. He didn’t want to become that horror.
“The One says Barracus needs someone of incredible strength to enter. You’re the Chosen. If Barracus enters you after being in the lower Plains he’ll have gained in strength and severity. Pain in this world will be nothing to him. He’ll wreak such destruction that few, if any, will survive.” Morrus’ words seemed to dim the bright of day.
“I’m sorry you must endure this. You were born with a great ability and now you must destroy it because of something that happened centuries ago. I don’t like it any more than you.”
Ren nodded. They continued to walk in silence. Only one thing dominated Ren’s thoughts, and for once it wasn’t Aidan. It was a premonition the One wouldn’t be his friend or mentor, but his keeper.
- - -
Galvin rode behind Zorc, the wind forcing tears from his eyes. The wizard had put the same charm on their horses as the Druids had on theirs, but the Druids were almost a day’s ride ahead of them. Ren would probably set sail for Dresden before they were able to overtake him.
The outlook was grim. Hiring a ship to Dresden was comparable to pulling teeth from a live dragon. It didn’t happen. No ship’s coxswain wanted any part of the Druid island. Although the Black Knight’s phantom still kept the Druids from the mainland, all feared close proximity to Dresden. Ships passing Dresden had been known to be “freed” of their vices, and those who went to the island without permission were fine targets for the zealous Druids. Sailors liked to drink and whoremonger. The thought of vanquishing their secular cravings sobered any ship’s coxswain and put the fear of the Maker in the crew.
When Galvin had reiterated that fact to Zorc, he had witnessed the backlash of Zorc’s terror.
Zorc had spurred into action faster than if his robe had caught fire. He found the thistleberry within heartbeats and with a flick of his wrist had boiled water to steep the berries that would draw the poison out of Markum’s body. He had ordered Neki to give Markum the thistleberry tea as he was flinging silver dust over their mounts.
Through all of the wizard’s irate sputtering Galvin saw the terror in Zorc’s eyes. That frightened him more than anything. Ren was in far more trouble than he had first realized.
They had ridden from the clearing within a sun’s click of Zorc’s appearance, Markum tied securely to his mount, padded by blankets and extra clothing. Galvin was sure the ride would be hard on Markum, but there was no other way. They needed to be after Ren. Zorc said they had done all they could do for Markum. It was now up to the dreamweaver to awaken.
Zorc’s long black hair flew behind him like a banner of doom. Galvin almost felt sorry for the Druids. He didn’t think Zorc would let any of them live after this.
Zorc slowed at full moons to give their mounts a moons’ click of rest. Neki dismounted with his short dark hair in disarray. He wore a silly grin as he staggered the first few steps to regain his equilibrium.
“That was incredible!” Neki said, eyes shinning with fervor. “Zorc,” he yelled up to the wizard, “why don’t you travel like this all the time?”
Zorc looked at Neki as if he were a burr on his blanket. “The horses will die if you ride them like this longer than five days. It’s already shortened these horses lives by one third.”
Neki sobered and gave his horse a reassuring pat on the neck. Zorc sat down on a large flat rock and stared west, where the island of Dresden resided.
“I’m worried,” Neki said.
Galvin glanced at Neki, surprised to find dark circles under Neki’s eyes. Galvin quickly changed his opinion of the swordsman. Neki wasn’t flippant. His humor was his defense in times of peril to stifle his own fears. His defense didn’t look to be currently working. The pulse at his throat beat like the Abyss was reaching out to claim him.
Neki heaved a guttural sigh. “I need to do something or I’ll go mad. Tell the wizard I go in search of some berries or roots to gnaw on. I’m famished, and in our haste we forgot food. Tie him down if he tries to leave without me.”
Neki walk off in the direction of some distant brush. When Neki’s shoulders slumped, Galvin wondered if Neki kept up the banter for himself or for others.
Galvin ambled toward the wizard. He had so many questions he didn’t know where to begin, but when he reached Zorc he didn’t have the heart to ask even one. He could almost see the frantic thoughts spinning around Zorc’s head.
Galvin settled down in the grass, content to just be near the wizard, feel the aura of Zorc’s power and know that it was all being directed to help Ren. He studied the rolling hills before him. He could see the beginning of the Fyl flatlands in the distance, where creeks were abundant as the water from the Divi shed its tears. Galvin could almost smell the difference in the air. Here the air was replete with grass and late-blooming flowers. In Crape, as well as Zier, it was saturated with woods and moss.
Galvin turned to find Zorc regarding him with penetrating eyes. The wizard’s eyes were just as Markum described – twin pools of ageless wisdom. The profusion of emotions coursing over Zorc’s face only intensified their depth.
Zorc broke the silence. “I need you to do me a favor.”
Galvin blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t have to.
“There are a lot of Druids on Dresden and I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to keep them from trapping me behind my door. If I become trapped I will be unable to help Ren, and I’ll be another shell Ista can use at whim.
“The Druids will be unconcerned with you until after both Ren and I are behind the door. Kill me if it looks like I’m going to become trapped, before I’m forced behind the door. Kill me without thinking, Galvin. Do you understand?”
Galvin lifted his eyebrows in shock. “No, I don’t understand. Why should I kill you before I’m sure you’re behind the door? I understand the reasoning for after, but not before.”
“Because that’s the only way you’ll be able to take my knowledge and teach Ren,” Zorc said. “Take out your sword.”
Galvin hesitated, but the look in Zorc’s eyes quenched any doubt. Zorc was doing this for Ren. Galvin couldn’t refuse. Galvin drew his sword and nodded. Zorc reached into his robe and drew out a small bag of silver dust. Zorc slowly sprinkled the dust down the blade. He made the symbol for magic at the sword’s tip: an inverted triangle inside a larger triangle inside a circle. Then Zorc drew a parallel line back up the sword and sketched an arrow at the top, pointing toward the hilt. The wizard waved his hands over the blade. The dust hissed and smoked. Then the sands vaporized before Galvin’s eyes.
The sword shivered and a tingling rushed through Galvin’s hands, up his arms, to his shoulders, only to plummet down to his toes. It was the Quy learning his form. As soon as the tingling had dissipated it came again, this time from the toes, retracing the same pattern until it emerged from his fingers and flowed back into the blade.
Galvin staggered backward, yearning for the sensation again. It had been blanket of warmth titillating his senses, filling him with something he had always known but had always been lacking.
A hand encased his shoulder. Zorc’s resonating voice poured over him. “You had the Quy, Galvin. As a child you had the thread. It should have been born in you as it was in Ren and Neki. I see it in your eyes. You have an inner strength that only comes from the gift. I don’t know what’s happened in your life, but something has taken it from you, stole it, if you will.
“You’ve just felt what you might have known. I regret you had to feel it. It would be better if you never had to endure it, given your loss. I would have charged Neki with this task but he can’t accompany us to Dresden. The risk is great for him. Although powerful, he’s unt
rained. The Druids could force him behind the door faster than an arrow flies.
“I’m sorry, Galvin. I feel your spirit. I know killing me will be hard if it comes to that, but what must be done must be done. If there’s a chance I’ll be trapped take my life without pause. You’ll gain my words, if not my power, and be able to teach Ren what he needs to know to defeat Ista.”
Galvin didn’t know what to say. If he had the Quy, where had it gone? He had always feared magic because of his lineage. Now the remnant of the Quy within him made him long for it. As he looked into Zorc’s gentle eyes he knew once the Quy was gone it couldn’t be recovered. He wanted to weep with the finality but forced himself to think about Dresden, and Ren.
“How will I be able to save Ren if you’re gone and I’m surrounded by Druids?”
Zorc smiled, eyes twinkling as if he were a teenager out for a prank. “Even if I’m unable to keep them at bay, I’ll give them the Abyss to fight.” Still grinning, Zorc leaned back on the rock. “If a Druid wants to close someone from a vice, or close something unrelated to the Quy, he can do so easily by himself. It takes at least three Druids to shut the door on someone weak in the power, even if the person allows it. For a Druid to close a four hundred year old wizard, who doesn’t want to be closed, well, according to my calculations it would take almost one hundred Druids.”
That didn’t sound too bad to Galvin. “How many Druids are there?”
Zorc lost his smile. “In my day, almost five hundred.”
Galvin’s hopes sunk.
“My point is this,” Zorc said. “It will take a plethora of them to trap me. If they’ve already put Ren behind the door they won’t have the strength to put me behind the door. Ren’s closing, I’m sure, will take at least as many, if not more than mine. It will drain their strength. They’ll be unable to fight back when you and I enter their temple. But if they haven’t closed Ren, may the Maker bless this end, I’ll be able to hinder them enough to allow you and Ren to escape.”
Zorc leaned forward, eyes glowing with wicked intent. “I’m a soldier in this war, Galvin. If I become trapped don’t hesitate to kill me. For all I know that’s why I live, so another can take my knowledge. If it looks like there’s a chance I’m losing the battle, kill me. If you don’t, all hope is lost.”
Chapter 15
Ren could tell his horse was tiring. Every once in a while the mare gave a gruff, wheezing sneeze, but she didn’t slow.
Ren patted her neck and glanced up at the sky, immediately finding his constellation. The previous night he had quite a scare. The hazy white cloud signifying the One had retracted, buoying farther and farther away from his star. It had terrified him.
Try as he might his horse wouldn’t slow, and it would have been suicide to jump. But when he looked again, the haze had begun to move closer. He had never been so relieved. Of course the heavens didn’t synchronize to the middle plane with perfect precision. Of course there would be lags between the physical world and the outer realms.
Now the hazy white cloud drew closer than ever, almost covering the constellation’s center star. He was riding to the One. There was no doubt. Soon he would find answers. No, he would demand answers.
His horse sneezed and stumbled. This time when he drew back the reins, the horse obeyed. A blur passed him on the left. When Ren’s horse blundered to a stop, Ren quickly dismounted. He patted the mare’s neck and whispered words of encouragement. Her eyes were dull, mucus dribbled from her nose, and she had thinned as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. As he stroked her she heaved a sigh and toppled, dead before she hit the ground.
Morrus stopped beside him and silently extended his arm. Ren took it and mounted. Within a dragon’s breath they were running with the Divi River. The Druid ship rose in the distance. It was a large merchant ship with a wide hull and a large black lateen. It looked ominous. A sharp, stabbing doubt pierced Ren’s mind. He looked back at the synergy constellation, letting his doubts dissipate with the wind.
Druids were easily identifiable scurrying around the deck. The ropes holding the massive ship at dock had already been untied. The Druid crew still had on the traditional gray but they weren’t robed. Instead they wore baggy breeches and knee-length tunics, belted at the waist with a black sash.
Morrus slowed his mare and let her trot up the plank at her own pace. When they reached the smooth, polished deck, all eyes turned to Ren for silent inspection. Ren felt like a sheep in a dragon’s lair but managed to keep his eyes focused on Morrus’ black strand of hair.
Morrus dismounted and strode to the bow of the ship, shouting orders that were immediately whisked away by the wind. Without the Druid beside him Ren reached for the star sapphire, now concealed under his tunic, and walked to the ship’s railing. The boat swayed in the water and broke free of the bank. Its sails caught the wind and it lurched forward, sailing down the Divi with surprising speed.
Ren watched the mainland move farther and farther away. Even though the air was muggy with the sweat of the water, a chill passed though him. The boulders of the coast loomed over the ship in judgment. The twin moons’ light haunted the banks and painted faces in the rocks. They were faces Ren feared he would never see again.
He longed for a glimpse of Zier: the bald Sierra Mountains, the massive redwoods, and the lush green forests. He thought back to the time when his only worry was leaving the castle without detection. It was amazing really, how insignificant his life had been before the Collective. Now he was the Chosen, ordered to close his door, without friends and without promise of return.
Morrus leaned next to him, dark eyes and emotionless expression making him appear sinister in the dusky light, but when he spoke a quiet compassion was discernible in his voice. “How do you fare?”
“Not so well.” Ren looked down at the black water. A light mist hit his face, as if the Old Sea were trying to cleanse him for burial. “But thank you for asking.”
Morrus didn’t reply. Ren tried to concentrate on the sound of the water. The torches around the boat gave an eerie cast to the waves.
“What will you ask the One?”
Ren had wondered when Morrus would ask that question. “When I go behind the door I may be unable to remember certain things. I want the One to help a friend. I had to lie to her to fulfill this quest. I want him to find her and tell her I meant nothing of what I said.”
Morrus chuckled. Ren held his tongue. The Druid clearly didn’t understand the importance of his request.
Morrus shook his head. “I don’t laugh at your request. I laugh because you continue to amaze me.”
“I don’t understand.”
Morrus’ eyes sparked with humor. “You come willingly, you speak to me as if I’m your friend and not someone who is trying to, in a way, change you, and then you think of another when you’re about to do something that may destroy your mind.”
“What did you expect me to ask the One?”
“I honesty don’t know, but nothing like that.”
“I do this because I have to, Morrus. I don’t understand why I have to, and I don’t like it, but it’s the fate the Maker has placed before me. I can’t change it. There’s no sense fighting what can’t be changed.”
Morrus fell silent, but Ren felt the Druids eyes boring into him. “I’ve always been intrigued with the idea of a Maker.”
Ren turned in surprise. “What do you mean?”
Druids were pious, devout and even ardent in their religious beliefs, which was why they wanted to rid the Lands of vices. Ren always assumed Druid theology was the same, only more fervent than others. Morrus’ words claimed otherwise.
A small quirk to the Druid’s lips lit his emotionless face. Morrus’ eyes flickered behind him and lowered his voice. Ren leaned closer to make out his words.
“Druids are a religious race, but they don’t believe an ultimate power created the Lands. Although they do believe in another realm, it’s only in the sense of where the spirit will go once it leaves
the body. They believe once we die in one realm we go to another and continue on. How good we are in this life determines what we will be in the next. This can go on indefinitely, depending on how good or bad one is. If one is incessantly good, eventually he will become a god.”
The water lapped up the side of the ship and echoed around them. Morrus remained silent as he waited for a few of the ship’s crew to pass.
“Druids believe a man stays in a realm until he’s achieved the highest order in that realm. He’s then born in the next realm where his goodness allows. And so the process continues. This realm is believed to be the highest of all realms, and the highest being in this realm – ”
“Is a Druid,” Ren finished.
Morrus nodded. Ren thought he saw a hint of distaste pass over Morrus’ features.
“And when the Quy was first born long ago, the Druids felt as if they had been superseded.”
Morrus nodded again, face returning to the emotionless mask. Ren thought about the history of wizard and Druid animosity and finally understood why it went so deep. If the Druids didn’t consider themselves to be the highest order in this realm it meant they were another step removed from becoming a supreme being.
“So,” Morrus continued, “Druids found a way to rationalize their supremacy. They discovered a way to close wizards from the Quy. Because they could conquer them, they were still supreme.
“Although this realm is the last, the epic of the soul may continue. When a Druid dies in this realm, if he passes the test he will become an all-knowing, all-seeing being, capable of anything and everything. If he fails he will sink to the lowest realm and begin the process again, no matter that he has achieved the highest realm or the highest status.”
“What’s the test?”
When Morrus turned toward him his dark eyes flickered with dangerous shadows. “The god the Druids believe they will become is one god. By that I mean a combination of countless Druids will make the god complete. Until it reaches consummation the god won’t function. When this god made of Druids is in fruition the realms will be no more. Hence there are only so many Druids that will become the god you refer to as ‘The Maker.’ Upon completion this god will make new worlds, new realms, and will dominate them with power beyond imagining. The Druids reference the Quy as petty compared to the powers they will possess.”
