by Tom Hoffman
One week later Morthram was satisfied with Bartholomew’s progress.
“This is excellent, Bartholomew. The next step is to move the block to a new location every time it flips into its physical state. Practice this for the rest of the day and tomorrow.”
By the end of the next day Bartholomew was exhausted, but he could convert the block to a thought cloud, move the cloud across the room, and convert it back to a block in a split second. He left the practice room and headed to the kitchen for dinner. Along the way he ran into Fen.
“Bartholomew, look what Morthram has taught me!” Fen held out his paw and with a small flash of light a wooden block appeared in it.
“Congratulations, Fen. That’s wonderful you can shape an object after such a short time.”
“Morthram is a great teacher.”
“He is a great teacher with an excellent student. You have done well, my friend.”
The next day Morthram greeted Bartholomew in the practice room.
“The time has come for you to transfer a living rabbit from one location to another. It is what shapers call ‘blinking’. I will be the rabbit you transfer. I want you to blink me around the room just as you did the wooden block. There is only one irreversible error you can make. There is a limit to how long a shaper can stay in the thought cloud state and still be able to convert back again. It is not long, several seconds at most. This is another reason why speed is vitally important. There have been shapers who were too slow and could not return to their original form. These are tragic events, but it is a harsh reality of shaping. This time limitation also puts a limit on the distances we can travel in thought cloud form. Our escape from the mine and travels to Penrith took less than a second.
“You’re sure I’m ready for this?”
“No need to worry. If you are taking too long, I will convert myself back into physical form. So yes, I’m sure you are ready.”
Bartholomew opened and closed his paws a few times then took a deep breath. A moment later Morthram blinked out and was gone, reappearing a split second later in a far corner of the room.”
“Perfect! That was marvelous. Again, please.”
After he had successfully blinked Morthram around the room numerous times, Bartholomew’s final test came.
“I’ve saved the most difficult task for last, of course. You must blink yourself around the room. It will be a novel experience for you to be in the thought cloud state. You will be able to see and hear and think, but you will have no physical body. You move about using your will. Think where you want to go and you will be there. Once you arrive, simply convert your thought cloud self back to its physical form. You must remember, as pleasant as it is to be in the thought cloud state, remain there no longer than one or two seconds.”
Bartholomew took a deep breath and looked down at his feet. A second later they vanished, along with the rest of him. It was a brief but intensely blissful experience to be floating in empty space. He willed himself to the other side of the room and blinked back into the physical world.
Much to Bartholomew’s embarrassment, Morthram gave him a great hug.
“Congratulations my friend, you have accomplished something remarkable today. There are not many shapers in the world who are capable of this feat. Come with me, there is something I have been waiting to give you.”
Chapter 19
The Ruby Ring
Bartholomew followed him to the main hall. The Guild vault appeared in front of Morthram and he swung the great door open, removing an object from a narrow red drawer.
He faced Bartholomew. “Extend your right arm.” Morthram slid a heavy gold ring onto Bartholomew’s paw. “Congratulations. All hail the ruby ring.”
Bartholomew looked down at the gold ring. On the face of the ring was a single eye with a red stone set in the center of it.
“The stone is a ruby. There are ten ring levels in the Shapers Guild, each with its own stone. The eighth ring is ruby, the ninth is diamond, and the tenth level is emerald.” Morthram held out his paw and showed Bartholomew the diamond on his ring.
“Are there many shapers who wear the emerald ring?”
“There is only one emerald ring, and I will not tell you who wears it, so don’t ask.”
“From the bottom of my heart I thank you, Morthram, for all you have done to help me. Truly, I am in your debt.”
“I am the one repaying a debt, my friend. I would still be rotting in that cursed ferillium mine if not for you. Don’t thank me yet, though. You still have much to learn before you leave.” Morthram grinned, adding, “If you think that ruby ring means you’re done here, you are sadly mistaken. But for now, let’s go and show off your new ring to Oliver and Fen.”
They walked down the hallway to the Guild library. The main reading room was at least fifty feet long with twelve foot tall ceilings. Bookshelves covered all four walls. Bartholomew had never seen so many books in one place.
“Are all these books about shaping?”
“Good heavens, no. The Guild expects its members to be knowledgeable on a wide variety of subjects and disciplines, not just shaping. Members must be familiar with the customs of countless other cultures and worlds. A high level shaper will often be called to distant realms, and must be able to appropriately interact with the inhabitants. Not fully understanding another culture’s beliefs and conventions could prove disastrous.”
Bartholomew glanced across the room and saw Oliver engrossed in a book. He waved to him, calling out his name. “Oliver!”
Oliver looked up from his book. “Hello, my friend. I hope your shaping lessons are going well. I’m afraid I have not been very good company since I discovered this library. There are an enormous number of scientific volumes here which are quite fascinating. Many are new to me, including some which attempt to explain the science behind shaping. These are theoretical texts of course, but most interesting. Now, what is this surprise Morthram has been telling me about?”
Bartholomew walked across the room and held out his paw, showing Oliver his Guild ring.
“You are a Guild member. This is wonderful news! Wait, I just read about this yesterday. The ruby ring represents the eighth level, does it not? For you to enter the Guild at the eighth level is quite remarkable. Congratulations, my friend.”
Fen overheard their conversation and stepped out from behind a large chair, a wide grin on his face. He held out his paw, displaying his new amethyst Guild ring.
“You are making amazing progress, Fen. In a few short weeks you are already a level two amethyst.” Bartholomew looked as though he was about to say something, then stopped.
“What is it?”
“I’m not quite sure how to say this, Fen, but I think it’s something you should hear. The other day when you were listening to the shapers’ stories, I saw you simultaneously in the present and in the future. In the future, you were the King of Grymmore, and the one who brings the return of shaping to your kingdom”
Fen chose his words carefully. “I have good reason to believe what you have seen may come to pass, although there are many events still to unfold. I do know you have a part to play in a great number of these events. I have heard this from the Jewel of Barsume.”
Bartholomew looked at Fen curiously. “You’re certain?”
“I am certain. Our meeting in the ferillium mine was not mere chance, just as your meeting with Morthram was not mere chance.”
“It’s a long and complex chain of events which has brought us to this place.”
“It is indeed.”
Morthram interrupted their conversation. “Did I forget to mention there was one more surprise? Bartholomew, if you would look over to the other side of the room, would you please tell me what you see?”
“I see the other half of the library.”
“And now?” Morthram waved his arm and a blast of light flew across the room. Two dozen rabbits blinked into view.
“All hail the ruby ring!”
Mort
hram continued. “The presentation of a ruby ring is no small occasion in the Shapers Guild. These Guild members have come to meet and congratulate you.”
The visiting shapers surrounded Bartholomew, introducing themselves one by one. Many of them had heard the stories of Morthram’s captivity in the ferillium mine and the daring escape they had made.
Fen seemed to be having more fun than anyone talking to the shapers and listening to their stories. The tales seemed to get wilder as the evening progressed, and Bartholomew suspected someone had shaped a little something extra into the punch bowl. As the evening wound down, the guests shook Bartholomew’s paw again and congratulated him before departing. This day would long remain a cherished memory for Bartholomew.
As he fell asleep that night he thought again about how much he had changed since he set out for the Cavern of Silence. He didn’t need a worn pack to make him feel like an adventurer now. He had become what he set out to be. He was Bartholomew the Adventurer. Sleep carried him away while his eyes were still on his new ruby ring.
The next morning Bartholomew rose early and hurried to the practice room. Morthram had told him they would begin working on advanced defense skills. Bartholomew arrived first and entered the darkened room. He walked over to one of the lamps, but abruptly stopped, his ears perking up. There was a barely audible rustling sound coming from the corner of the room. He looked into the shadows, trying to isolate the source of the sound. Before he had time to think, a dark creature leaped up and over one the chairs, charging wildly toward him. It let loose a horrible squealing shriek, raising a wicked looking dagger. The creature’s claws scratched and tore at the floor as it scrambled madly towards him. Bartholomew gave a loud yelp, skittering backwards and tripping over the chair behind him. He stumbled and fell, his head thudding into the door. He sank to the floor in excruciating pain. The beast reached him as he was desperately trying to drag himself out of the room. Looking up in horror he saw a vicious Grymmorian guard, dagger raised high. “I kill rabbits who escape!” The dagger plunged down towards Bartholomew’s chest. It stopped about six inches before it reached him.
“Would you care to tell me all the things you did wrong?” Morthram’s voice was coming out of the guard’s mouth. Bartholomew could make no reply. Finally he managed to speak.
“Morthram?”
“Indeed.” The guard’s body rippled and blurred, transforming into Morthram’s familiar form.
“What? How could you...”
“Shapers call it formshifting. It’s very useful when trying to avoid detection in another world. In such places there is always the danger of an unexpected deadly attack. You must be able to react without thinking, and react in a manner which causes no harm to your assailant. I’m afraid you did none of those things today.”
Bartholomew’s head throbbed for the rest of the day, but it was a good reminder of how poorly he had responded to the assault. It brought back embarrassing memories of the rabid wolf, but this time there had been no tree to climb.
“Let’s begin with altering your appearance. You are now adept at converting your physical self to a thought cloud and then back again. You are also able to shape objects created only in your imagination. If we combine those two things we have formshifting. You convert your physical self to a thought cloud, and when you convert that cloud back to your physical form you merely create whatever form you wish to be.”
“Could I convert myself to an object like a chair or a lamp?”
“You could. You would be quite undetectable, but you would suffer the great disadvantage of being unable to see or hear.”
As the days slipped by, Bartholomew learned many new skills from Morthram. He could now create energy spheres, fireballs, frost storms, duplonium projectiles, and any number of defensive orbs. One of the more interesting orbs was an archaic one called a time shell, used to protect the shaper from arrows. At the first sign of archers, the shaper creates a time shell around himself. When the arrow hits the shell and begins to pass through it, time is altered for the projectile. It takes almost a full minute for the arrow to make its way through the wall, giving the shaper ample time to simply move out of the arrow’s path.
Morthram’s final lesson focused on sending thought projections to rabbits who are unable to read thought clouds, which is also a rather elegant way to communicate with creatures who don’t speak your language. He explained that thoughts are not made of words, but of formless ideas and concepts. When an idea is projected to another creature, its mind converts the idea into its own language. If you happen to resemble the creature through formshifting, you can, with practice, pass for one of its own kind. Bartholomew spent the greater part of a week working on this skill. He was even able to successfully convince Fen he was a visiting Grymmorian.
That evening after dinner Morthram took Bartholomew aside to speak with him.
“Bartholomew, you have learned far more quickly than I had imagined you would. Only one other student has progressed at such a rate, and of course that is your friend Clara. We still have several weeks before you must leave, and I have a proposal for you. I have been kept awake many nights by thoughts of the rabbits still being held captive in Oberon’s ferillium mine. I can no longer stand idly by without attempting to free them. On my own I fear my limited powers are not enough for what I have planned. There is a method I can teach you where two or more shapers link minds, magnifying their power. If we work together, I believe we could free the prisoners and close the ferillium mine.”
Chapter 20
The Recipe
“I will go with you. I have been haunted almost daily by similar thoughts.”
“This is welcome news, my friend. Over the last week I have been making short exploratory visits to the mine in the form of a Grymmorian guard and have learned much about its operation. I discovered their conveyor belt system carries the ferillium ore to the entrance of a huge tunnel. The ore is dumped into enormous wheeled wagons and rides through the tunnel on rails, eventually arriving in Grymmore. Honestly, I can’t imagine the time it must have taken to create such a tunnel, or the cost in lives and in coin.
“My plan begins with us entering the mine as Grymmorian guards. In the event we are questioned by guards, we can read their thoughts and project our answers back to them. After that, things get more complicated.”
Bartholomew listened for the next hour as Morthram revealed the rest of his scheme.
“I can find no flaws in your strategy, my friend. When do we leave for the mine?”
“It will take us a day to practice linking minds, and a day to practice the necessary shaping. As an aside, I still don’t understand King Oberon’s need for such massive quantities of ferillium, but I do think it bears looking into. I thought perhaps you could speak to Oliver and see if he has any thoughts on this. With his background in science, he may be aware of some little known use for ferillium.”
The next morning Bartholomew found Oliver in the library.
“Oliver, during your time with Mr. Ferillium, was there any mention of why the Grymmorian King needs such vast amounts of ferillium?”
“I asked Mr. Ferillium that question, but the vagueness of his reply led me to believe he did not know. I had the sense he was pretending to know more than he did, not surprising behavior for someone of his nature. As far as I know, ferillium has no practical applications. There have been several scientists who were able to create tiny ferillium crystals, but to what end I don’t know. I do know the process does require large amounts of raw ferillium, which may or may not be significant.”
“Interesting. After we have closed the mine we should investigate this further. Morthram had mentioned some rumors about these ferillium crystals, but he knew nothing substantial. Perhaps these crystals have a use unknown to us.”
“I will search the texts in the library and try to find some answers. If I find nothing in the scientific volumes, perhaps the shaping texts will contain some clue to any hidden properties of ferill
ium crystals.”
The following day was spent in the practice room as Bartholomew and Morthram finalized the details of their assault on the mine. By the end of the day they felt confident their endeavor would be successful. In the morning they would blink themselves to a dark corner of the mine and begin their liberation of the prisoners and the permanent closure of Oberon’s mine.
They rose before sunrise and found Oliver had breakfast prepared for them. He wished them well. “I have not the slightest doubt you will be successful in closing this fiendish mine. What chance does a group of dunderheaded Grymmorian guards have against two of the most powerful shapers alive?”
Bartholomew laughed. “Your faith in us is most uplifting, my friend. Is there a message you would like to give to your old friend Mr. Ferillium, should I happen to see him?”
“I’m afraid any message I have would not fall within the ethical boundaries of the Shapers Guild.”
“Ha! I’ll try to think of something more suitable then.”
After breakfast Bartholomew and Morthram walked to the center of the Guild hall. Fen arrived just in time to wish them luck. He looked on in wonderment as they formshifted into ragged and vicious looking Grymmorian guards. Moments later they blinked out and were gone.
They reappeared in a dark corner of the Ferillium mine, a spot carefully chosen by Morthram.
“We’ll make our way to the center of the mine. In the event we’re stopped by guards, you know what to do.”
They sauntered out of the shadows onto a rocky path leading to the main square. Their demeanor exuded the arrogant confidence of two Grymmorian guards, giving no hint of the trepidation Bartholomew was feeling. His return to the mine had rekindled painful memories of the many brutal acts he had witnessed. They began to pass prisoners walking along the pathway, but the prisoners avoided any eye contact. The guards Bartholomew and Morthram passed simply ignored them. Before long they reached the central plaza of the mine. It was surrounded on all sides by wide rocky streets and long, low wooden buildings. Dozens of prisoners could be seen passing by as numerous groups of guards stood watch over them.
