by Gwynn White
“And, you know all this?”
“Because she sends me to check on him from time to time, and to send gifts to the children from the temple’s offerings.”
For the first time since Wizard Vail had pulled him out of the squalor and danger of the streets of Thonevrond, Jogli cursed the magic eye that had replaced his blind human eyes. There were many times, more than he could count, that he cursed the day the wizard had found him, but he never regretted being able to see the world as other did even if it meant that he had someone looking over his shoulder every second of the day. However, now as he twirled the dagger in his hands he cursed it and debated whether it would be worth it to be completely blind once again. One sharp painful jab and he would be free of the wizard, but it would mean a life of dependence on others and a life of ridicule and poverty.
The blade’s sharp edges caught the sun, and he stared at the prisms of light that reflected back at him. He considered never being able to see the beauty of the world again and weighed it against freedom’s call. He sheathed the blade and guided his horse to a shady tree. As he let the animal gaze freely, he thoughts also chewed over what he had figured out about that dragon he couldn’t control. Another magic controlled it. A magic that did not belong to either the Goddess or Wizard Vail. There was only one other person in Mithlonde with that kind of magic, Maura. She could free him. However, to say that Maura and Wizard Vail were adversaries would be an understatement. They hated each other even more that they hated the dragons. Yet, he could not just traipse up to her cave and ask for help. Vail would see every moment, every move, and hear every word.
Jogli spun the blade again his hopelessness as dark a contrast as its shiny steel edge. He could free himself and trap himself in the dark for the rest of his life, or he could see but stay trapped in the Vail’s darkness. For a brief second, a shadow blotted the sun’s glow. Jogli looked up to see the dragon’s giant form circling overhead. He sighed. At least This one is under my control. It better be or else…
Jogli’s magic eye began to whirl as the kennel of an idea began to grow as he thought of the “or else.” An idea that could set him free from the wizard. It would require some very delicate negotiations, and some hidden and traitorous promises. But, if it worked…if it worked, he would be free. If it didn’t he would be dead, but that was another kind of freedom, wasn’t it? Either way, it would be worth it.
Chapter Nine
“By the flaming Goddess’ power, what did She do to me!” And, another chunk of firewood went sailing across their campground.
“Who do you think you are that you can just play with people this way?” This time the hunk of split oak landed a little too close to where the tethered horses causing them to rear up in alarm anJ pulling at their lead ropes. Christol always attuned to their feelings and emotions, awoke immediately, and sat in stunned silence. The Goddess’ fire engulfed Ellora, flickering and dancing up and down her body.
“Ellora…”
“Don’t, don’t even say a word,” she hissed, and hurled another log into the forest. “Why don’t you ask Riesa?”
Christol glanced across the campground to where Riesa sat weeping silent tears that glimmered like raindrops in the firelight. Stephye’s arms around her appeared to provide little comfort as the woman’s shoulders continued to heave with her sobs. The horses’ worried nickering echoed across to him, and he sent them a mental image of quiet meadow beside a pond of clear, still water. Overhead, the calls of morning birds filled the air. The horses calmed at the mental image with all the details that signaled safety and peace, content once again to graze the dry fodder that lay at their feet.
He pushed back his sleeping rolls, wished he had a hot cup of kaveh, and stumbled over to Ellora.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“It didn’t hurt me the last time, remember,” he said, reaching for her and gently enfolding her in his arms.
As his strong arms surrounded her with their surety and confidence, the flames began to recede. Slowly they retreated until she simply stood their weeping in his arms. “She’s back,” she said at last.
“I can see that,” Christol muttered, unsure of exactly what he should say or do at this point. He knew this is the last thing Ellora wanted. He also realized, at this point, she really had no choice in the matter. Evidently, Riesa had proven either unworthy or unable to fulfill the duties of the Goddess’ High Priestess. And, someone had to do it. Mithlonde could not exist without a High Priestess. Someone had to speak to the Goddess, carry out her commands, and wield her power. Ellora had been her chosen, probably from before she was born, he thought. Riesa hadn’t, didn't possess the proper training, and had proven unable to carry out the responsibilities. That only left Ellora. A very ineffective way of doing things. If you ask me. Of course, nobody’s asking, so I guess I will just keep my mouth shut.
Christol managed most problems in life this way, and it served him well. Large, intelligent and a target for anyone who felt the need to prove their manhood, he avoided many fights by simply refusing to respond. He learned the art of knowing when to speak, and when to keep his mouth shut, and he figured this situation called for the latter. Holding Ellora, letting her weep, he glanced across to Stephye. The two best friends exchanged a knowing glance. The dismayed look in their eyes saying more than words every could.
Wizard Vail lowered the scrying crystal and carefully placed in the locked cabinet with the other tools of his magic, pondering the actions of his foundling. Watching Jogli’s contemplation of the knife, and the way his magically enhanced eye spun as his adopted son thought. Vail had gathered his knowledge of human nature and all its vagaries of action the hard way, but they he learned them well and thoroughly. And, it did not escape the wizard’s observations that he could no longer control Jogli’s emotions and now maybe his actions, either. The way Jogli studied the dragon under his control also spoke of a superior type of control, one based on the finesse that only total command of magic could provide.
His eyes narrowed in though as his hands stroked his beard, Jogli’s actions spoke more than words ever could. Vail recalled the feeling that Jogli withheld something during his last disciplining session, and that thought disturbed him. No one could withstand that kind of torture without succumbing to the need to compulsion to the total and complete truth. The thought that the son had withheld some kernel of truth in spite of the agonies of the torture chamber and niggled at the back of his mind the way a tailor’s label scratched on the neck of his gown refusing to go away until you either cut it off or changed your clothes. And the more it fussed in the back of his mind, the more it grew into a festering boil. It became a canker that plaguing only remaining part of his heart with unrelenting pain. The idea that the boy, the son whom he had adopted off the streets of Thonevrond, and in whom he had invested so much time and care would try to leave him, tormented him during the day and throughout the night as he tried unsuccessfully to sleep.
Jogli’s mission to capture Christol had proven unfruitful. He would call Jogli back, and get the truth out of him. Or, cut him off. Either way Jogli needed to be controlled or removed. Vail could not manage the unacceptable thoughts that reminded him that he was, after all, only a human wizard, and no more unique than any other person on Mithlonde.
He stroked his beard for a minute as this thought reminded him of both his limitations and his powers. If they only knew.
His beard covered the sneer that this thought engendered. But, they never will. I will see that.
“And you’re sure this will lead us directly into Vail’s castle?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Bydern’s voice squeaked a little as he spoke. His awe for the High Priestess overcoming his normal, youthful exuberance, which wasn’t much after Vail’s brutal training.
“Explain, it to me please, Bydern so I can plan our attack.”
“The Celinor Forest through which we are now traveling takes us not only through the Draekhen Mountains, but they t
otal surround the Halls of Marbeht.
“I already knew this,” Ellora interrupted, sounding a little perturbed and impatient.
Bydern cringed at her tone, making Ellora remember her place and what her real role as the High Priestess should be.
“I’m sorry, Bydern,” she said, reaching across their horses’ rumps to ruffle his hair. “You’ve been through so much already. The last thing you need is me harping on you to hurry things up. I promise you, I will get you home safely. Just guide us to this back entrance and your service to the Goddess will be over, and She will heap rewards upon you. She does not force anyone to serve her. They come willingly and they are rewarded as you will be.” She squeezed his arm to give him one final measure of reassurance and said, “Continue please.”
Bydern began describing how to gain entrance into the dungeons, the lowest levels of the castle at Marbeht, but Ellora’s thoughts were as far away from him as the stars were from Mithlonde. They could not be reached, and his explanations were not reaching her, either.
What I told him was true. She never forces anyone to server her, except me. Why me? Why was I chosen to serve her whether I wanted to or not? And, when I didn’t want to any longer, I was still forced to serve her. Is this fair? Is this just? Goddess, why don’t you answer me, the way I answered this boy? Where are you, now? Do you just demand obedience from me without any answers, without allowing me to use my own free will in this matter? Goddess where are you and why don’t you answer me?
“Well, I guess that’s it, that’s how you get in. I can tell you how to get to his command room as well if you want?”
“Huh?” Ellora shook her head as if she’d just awaken from a disturbing dream, one that lingered in her mind with fragments of unsettled issues and dangers.
“Bydern, I am so sorry. I seem to have drifted off, “Would you mind repeating that?”
Christol had joined them and they rode three abreast. He knew Ellora well enough to know that her thoughts were as far away from this conversation as they were from his mother’s kitchen hearth and the pot of sweet Kaveh that she always kept warm for unexpected visitors, and to feed her own habit of drinking copious amounts of the stimulating beverage.
The farrier, turned master of the horse, pulled out a tanned skin that had been scraped, pounded, stretched and cleaned with lye until it was a clear parchment. Their cost prohibited most common folk from using them, but Christol’s close association with the High Priestess did have some advantages Although an ink quill normally accompanied the parchment, in this rough environment, Christol reached for a bit of charcoal figuring it would last long enough to get them inside Marbeht, and hopefully out again.
“Bydern, one more time please,” he said, turning to the boy. “I will write it down so that no one forgets. Once that is done, your duty to the High Priestess is finished and you will be free to return home.”
“Are you sure?” Christol heard the hesitation in the poor lad’s face, and could only imagine the terrors he had faced in Vail’s conscripted army.
“Aye. You will be free and safe,” the Goddess has assured Ellora of this. “Ellora?”
“Huh?”
“Ellora,” Christol allowed a tinge of irritation to color his words, “didn’t the Goddess ensure that Bydern would be free to leave as soon as he guides us to Marbeht?”
Ellora’s pale cheeks flamed with the color of embarrassment for being so derelict in her responsibilities to the Goddess’ children. Once again, she reached across her mount to ruffle his hair with a reassuring gesture. “I am sorry Bydern; I just have a lot on my mind. What we are attempting to do will cause many deaths of both man and beast, and the cost of such a tragedy is difficult for me to accept. My heart and mind is trying to find another way to accomplish the Goddess’ will. Yet, I can see no other way so my thoughts are a bit preoccupied. I apologize for not giving you my full attention.”
“Christol, I see that you are ready. Would you mind recording his instructions, and then he can return to his home.”
“Of course, Ellora. I am always yours to command.”
She smiled at him, but her smile did not contain the love it usually held. Instead, Christol saw more than a hint of resentment and the stain of anger. He didn’t need to be able to read her mind as he did the animals. Once again the role of High Priestess had been forced upon here by Riesa’s inability and lack of training. Her fury at the situation started to manifest itself in her actions. The first being distancing herself from those that she loved. As he studied her, he could not help but wonder what the next manifestation of her anger would be.
Jogli jerked hard on the reins of his mount. Too hard, and the animal protested by rearing up and throwing him in the closest puddle. His curses could have blistered the hide right of the horse, and if he hadn’t needed the animal to return to Marbeht he would have let them echo all the way to the castle and back. Instead, he simply remounted the beast brushing the mud off the best he could and began slogging his way through the marshland that surrounded his master’s citadel. The curses remaining at the forefront of his mind unspoken, but yearning for release.
The horse only served as a more tangible object for the apprentice’s anger. The urgent and immediate recall to Marbeht had infuriated Jogli almost beyond reason. Not so much so that he would take it out on a harmless beast. He was not his master. However, the young man knew that no good could come from this. Vail wanted Christol. His master had made that very clear. A recalled now meant one of two things. Either he had already secured the man who controlled the animals, or he blamed Jogli for yet another failure. If he already had Christol, Vail would consider that Jogli had failed in this task. If the wizard did not have Christol, already, then the reason for Jogli’s summons would take a more sinister turn.
Jogli could not suppress the shudder that racked his body and caused his mount to sidestep as the reins jerked once again. He could not control the trembling of his hands at thought of what the wizard might do next. Images of dragons flaming the countryside and all that it held filled his mind. His magic eye saw little children running in fear as flame engulfed their little bodies and turned them to ash. And, with the image came the painful memories of his own childhood on the streets of Thonevrond. Hiding in corners, waiting and watching the arrival and departure of the dragons. Begging for crumbs, sorting through the rubbish behind the taverns for any leftover morsels. However, fear of the dragons ran deeper than the hunger in his belly.
He’d watch from his hiding place as they devoured the offerings the town left for them. It took less than half a breath to turn a full-grown bull to ash, but usually they ate the animal alive. For only a split second, the smell of roasted meat would make him salivate as his hunger answered its call, but then the screams of pain turned his saliva to dust as fear deadened every emotion except the need to run. But, even then, his body would betray him, and he stayed frozen in place as trapped by his fear as the offering was by its chains.
Yet, fear wasn’t the only thing that captivated him, holding him enthralled. The dragons themselves turned his feet to stone. Magnificent and wild, power and freedom were their lifeblood, they could be neither hurt not killed. They were beyond all authority, and answered to no one. They possessed all that everything denied to the young orphan in the gutters of Thonevrond. And, Jogli knew as well as he knew his own meager standing in the world that if Vail turned the dragons loose on Mithlonde without complete control over them, nothing would survive. Their fierce anger at being controlled would be an unquenchable desire for not only revenge, but for freedom. A dark smile twisted the side of Jogli’s mouth because that was something he completely understood.
“And you’re sure this is the safest way into Marbeht?” Christol asked Bydern for at least the twentieth time in the last half hour. Slogging through swamps, bogs and marshland did not seem all that safe to a man who had grown up amongst the fallowed farmland of Mithlonde. In fact, it seemed the exact opposite as another one of the many
poisonous snakes that resided in its murky waters slithered in front of Gallant causing the giant horse to rear up, yet again.
Christol whispered a soothing word to the horse, sent him a mental image of green, sun-filled meadows to calm it, and then nudged him up next to Bydern who led the small troupe. “Well, could you explain it to me again because this doesn’t look safe.”
Bydern didn’t even try to suppress his unhappy sigh. All he wanted was to go home. He never asked for conscription, and he certainly didn’t ask to be the High Priestess’ guide back into the very prison he had just escaped. And, even though that man, Christol, had copied down his instruction, the High Priestess had decided he must accompany them through these cursed swamplands. He sighed again at the injustices of his life, and didn’t believe for a minute that the Goddess would reward him for this service. All he had ever gotten from anyone had been a good kick in the teeth when he spoke up about anything. His step-dad had seen that he’d learn to respect his elders. He’d also learned to keep his mouth shut. However, that didn’t seem to be the case on this journey.
“Bydern,” Christol urged.
“Yeah, okay. Well, we just have to get through this swampy marsh and then the backside of Marbeht is open. There’s a trail, a tricky, steep one, which is why it isn’t highly guarded up to the back wall that surrounds the castle. Since no one is stupid enough to try to climb the trail, the back wall also has large cracks in the wall, making it easy to pick your way through. And they are left unguarded for the same reasons. I found it when I was stuck on guard duty back there. I thought about trying to escape that way, but I guess I am just a coward because I figured I would just get found again.”
Ellora, who had ridden up to his other side, reached across and squeezed his arm. “You’re not a coward. You were smart. Vail could have found you and you would have been severely punished. But, when you ae finished here, the Goddess will shield you from Vail’s sight and you will be free. Continue, please?” She asked, giving his arm another reassuring squeeze.
