“And I didn’t get to sing, either,” Grace complained as she followed him to the stage.
“Here, I’ll play for you and you can sing right now,” Grange countered her complaint.
“Alright,” she disbelieved him, and chose to call his bluff.
Grange scowled, then reflected a moment, and decided to play one of the songs the band had played earlier, one that had a quick rhythm that would be difficult to sing to. He only played the first three bars before Grace slugged him in the ribs.
“Play one of the songs you played last night,” she ordered. “Something I can sing to.”
Defeated, and suddenly feeling anxious to head back home to the palace, Grange complied, starting one of the ballads that she had sung the night before.
He sat on the edge of the stage while he played, his legs stretched out in front of him, and after just a moment, Grace sat down too as she continued to sing. The use of the energy, allowing it to collect and run through him, seemed to have taken a toll on him; sitting down felt good, and apparently Grace felt the same way.
They finished the song, then started a second one, a livelier dance tune. As they did, a few young couples came out of the shadows and started dancing again. Grange began to feel better, more energized as the song progressed, and he stood up before the end of the tune, as did Grace.
“We have to perform another one,” Grace said. “We can’t let folks have just one dance.”
So they ended up performing three more songs – two quick dance steps, then a slower ballad to end their unexpected performance.
“Who knew that a pair of magic-makers could do something as useful as playing the pipe and singing?” one older lady cackled as she hobbled past they two. “Thank you,” she added, then was gone.
Grange and Grace had nothing to carry away from the scene of the music and attack, other than Grange’s sword and flute, so they strolled together through the darkened streets of the city.
“How did you do that, anyway? How did you capture the energy and share it with me so easily?” she asked after they walked in silence for the first dark block. “I didn’t hear you utter a spell or put on an amulet, or anything.”
“I just thought about it and made it happen,” he replied, sure that any answer he gave was likely to either get him into trouble, or spur further questions. But he knew he couldn’t simply reveal the truth, that his arm was occupied by elemental spirits in the guise of embedded jewels.
“I hope that’s not true,” Grace said slowly. “Master Brieed says there are only a few men and women who can do that, and we don’t need to have another sorcerer running around the world, especially here in Palmland.”
“What’s a sorcerer?” Grange asked.
“Do you not know anything?” Grace asked in exasperation.
“Not about sorcerers,” he replied in a tone that was only slightly less waspish than hers. “I’ve only been here two days.”
“We’re studying to be wizards,” Grace began in a didactic tone. “We are learning spells and amulets and lotions and positions that allow us to call upon the greater powers of the world. It requires years of complex training,” she paused to let that sink in.
“Sorcerers are born with the ability to call upon the powers. They don’t need spells. They just,” she paused, “seize the power – they force it to obey.
“We’re wizards. We have to be gentle. We have to trick the energy into serving us. It’s like we’re tricking it into thinking we’re sorcerers,” she spoke fervently.
“But I wouldn’t want to be a sorceress,” she said.
“Why not?” Grange asked, curious. Her explanation was more than he had ever even thought to ask about.
“They suffer for being different. They can’t have children – it’s like the gods do not want them to pass their ability along. And they lose their souls; none of them live long before the demons come and take them to the underworld. No,” she shuddered, “I wouldn’t want to be that way.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Grange agreed. He felt disturbed, anxious. Grace’s comments were frightening, as he considered how easily the jewels had given him the ability to see the power and to control it.
They walked in silence through the streets after that, and returned to the palace grounds, then to the wizard’s section, where Grace opened the door.
“Thank you for letting me sing,” she told him. “The rest of the evening I maybe could have done without,” she gave a wry smile, then entered her rooms and closed the door behind herself.
Chapter 17
“Are you turning me into a sorcerer? Are the demons going to come and drag me to the underworld?” he asked the jewels as soon as he entered the privacy of his own room.
He began to undress, to grow more comfortable.
No, we will not leave you to the demons, the jewels said emphatically. You will retain your soul. We will guide you in the use of the power, and through the deep test that all others have failed.
You are the one who will kill the demons, not fall to them, the jewels reassured him.
“I hope you are right,” Grange said. “But will I be like the sorcerers, able to find the power, to use it without the tools the wizards use?”
We will make it as easy as possible for you, but we cannot tell what you will accomplish. Only time will tell, the jewels answered.
Grange was not satisfied with the answer, but he sensed that the jewels had no more to tell. He lay in his bed, thinking about demons and dead children, unpleasant topics that caused nightmares when he finally fell asleep.
Grace woke him the next morning, and they carried out their chores with only minimal comments to one another, then went to breakfast. Grange sat with Appal and Jom, the acolytes once again, until Brieed beckoned him over to the wizard’s table.
“Are you ready to begin training?” Brieed asked.
“Yes sir,” Grange replied.
“Eli, take Grange to the library, and start working on learning how to recite the incantations for moving objects,” Brieed ordered the senior apprentice. “Work until midday, then let him go to pursue his other activities.”
Eli wordlessly rose from the table and beckoned for Grange to follow. Down the hall they turned into a side hall, then entered a room that had a wide and high single window taking up much of the narrow wall. A narrow table took up much of the floor space, and tall book shelves lined both of the interior walls.
“See that candle holder?” Eli asked as they stood in the doorway, observing the room.
He pulled his wand from a hidden pocket on his hip, then pointed it at the candlestick.
“Trwy ras yr holl bwerau, yn symud i mi, cannwyll,” he spoke softly, his eyes closed.
Grange looked at Eli, then looked at the wand, and looked at the candleholder. The latter began to tremble, then slid across the top of the table slowly, and launched itself into the air, it dipped slightly as it left the table, then wafted gently through the air, over to Eli’s outstretched hand.
“That is what you are going to learn,” Eli said as he handed the metal dish to Grange. “It will take time to learn the system of incantations, but the displacement of objects is one of the simplest abilities of wizards.”
Eli looked up at the shelves of books, then pointed his wand upwards, closed his eyes, and mumbled, “trwy ras yr holl wybodaeth, os gwelwch yn dda yn dod i mi, sgrolio.”
A pale tan scroll bumped up and down, then descended in an arc through the air, and settled in Eli’s hand.
“Here, read this,” he handed it to Grange.
“That’s all for today,” he said, then turned and left the room, as Grange stood with the scroll in one hand and the candleholder in the other.
Annoyed by the senior apprentice’s lack of assistance or advice, Grange set the candle down, then settled into a chair, and untied the leather lace around the scroll. He opened the beginning, found that he was holding it upside down, and reversed it, then focused on the words that were wr
itten in a spidery, dark script across the middle of the scroll, with wide margins on both sides.
“The energy is all around, ready to serve, eager to serve. It can be the answer to all problems, and meet all needs, if we take it as our partner and treat it as though it were our beloved, our spouse,” Grange read. He read the words slowly, both because the handwriting was ornate, and because he had learned to read, but seldom exercised the ability.
“You can work with the energy, if it believes that you will work for it. You must please the energy, demonstrate your affection for it. You must woo it to be your partner and assistant,” the scroll continued.
“I don’t want a bloody girlfriend,” Grange muttered in annoyance.
Just read and learn. We doubt that you’ll have to worry about having a girlfriend with an attitude like that anyway, the jewels reprimanded him.
“Humm,” Grange grumbled, but he continued to read.
The text continued, as he slowly read down the scroll, turning the two metal rods to progress through the narrative. The words continued to tell the same message in a variety of ways – the power was available, but could only be relied upon for assistance if treated with respect.
“To demonstrate your respect, you must speak in the language that the Old Ones spoke, the language that was first used to woo the energy in the days when the world was young, the language that was the only language in the time when all men and women could be partners with the power,” it explained. “These are the words of the old language, the words that you must know,” it said, then listed a long column of strange words.
“Os gwelwch yn dda, grace, ffrind, rydym yn ymbil, ffafr, caredigrwydd,” the words stretched down the scroll. “These are the words that show the goodness of your heart to the energy, that demonstrate you will honor and respect the energy,” the text continued to read, as Grange slowly progressed.
“How do I even pronounce those words?” Grange was nettled by the strange combinations of letters.
“Are you coming to lunch?” Grace asked from the door.
Grange jumped at the unexpected interruption. He looked up and saw the angle of the sunlight coming in through the window – it had swung around a fair amount. He had been in the room all morning working his way through a fraction of the scroll.
He looked at the scroll, trying to memorize where he had finished his reading, then twisted the rods to close the scroll, and left it on the table as he followed Grace out of the room.
“What did you do today?” he asked her.
“I worked on using the wooden amulets,” she replied. “They take a lot of concentration.
“And did you do something wonderful again? Learn how to lift buildings from their foundations, or how to water the deserts with the rivers?” she asked snidely as they entered the dining room, where servants were placing fruits and breads out to eat.
“I don’t really understand what I was reading,” he answered, and they separated to find their food. Grange grabbed food he could eat as he walked, and he left to go to the armory. He finished stuffing the last sweet bun into his mouth as he arrived at the armory, and saw Brielle in the far corner, practicing her staff work with another guard. He decided to head to the weapons lockers to find the pads that he knew he would be expected to wear.
“He is stupid, and he’s heroic. He’s stupidly heroic,” Brielle’s voice spoke from behind him. He turned to see her standing ten yards away, speaking to a middle-aged man.
“He’s awfully pale,” the man commented. “Doesn’t he have any blood in him?”
“I think he’s from Southgar, sir,” Brielle replied factually.
“I’m from Fortune,” Grange snapped.
“Are all people from Fortune as pale as you?” the man asked. “I wasn’t aware.”
“No,” Grange admitted. “They look a lot more like you people here, maybe not quite as dark.”
“So, you’re not really from Fortune then,” Brielle stated. “But that is beside the point,” she quickly cut off further protest.
“This is my commanding officer, Captain Holmes,” she introduced. “I wanted to let him meet one of the heroes the Prince is telling the whole palace about,” she explained.
“And who his friend Maurin is cursing,” she added.
“Where’s the other one, the pretty girl wizard the prince spoke so highly about?” Holmes asked.
“Where’s that pretty hero who has brains?” Brielle asked.
“I suppose she’s studying,” Grange said, trying to sound conversational, though starting to feel put-upon by the questions.
“I’m here to practice, if it’s okay,” he spoke up.
“By all means,” Holmes took the hint. “Brielle has grown to be our best fighter – you’ve got a good coach. Just be sure to make arrangements with her for the prince to meet his two wizard protectors very soon,” the officer said. He nodded to each of the others, then turned and walked off.
“You two are going to have to be ready to be picked apart,” Brielle said conversationally. She lifted two staffs and tossed one to Grange. “Your friend will have to be ready to be wooed by the playboys of the court, and you will have to be ready to protect yourself from revenge from Maurin,” she told him, as she feigned an attack.
Grange didn’t fall for the trick, but kept his defenses ready, and blocked her real strike, though he couldn’t react quickly enough to launch a counterstrike.
“Maurin has persuaded the prince that there were no children killed, only hysterical parents in the ghettos,” Brielle told him.
“That’s not true, is it?” Grange asked. He’d taken Guy’s word about the dead children as truth.
“You’d know better than I do,” Brielle answered. “So when do you think you and the lady wizard can enter the lion’s den? This afternoon? Tonight?”
“I’ll ask her tonight, and let you know tomorrow,” Grange replied.
You better have her at court by tomorrow. You know royalty – they expect their requests to be filled immediately,” Brielle told him.
They continued to practice without further conversation about the appearance before the prince. By late afternoon, Grange was exhausted and sore. “I’ll go back and let Grace know we should visit the prince tomorrow,” he promised.
“The prince wants to see me?” Grace asked scornfully, when Grange arrived back at the wizard’s hall, let in by Appal. “Why are you making such a story up?”
“My trainer, Brielle, was one of the guards with the prince last night, and she just told me today,” Grange answered.
“Go tell the Master,” Grace said dismissively. “He works for the king, doing what the king wants. He’d know if there was a royal summons.”
Grange left the girl and went to knock on Brieed’s door.
Jom opened it and Grange saw the wizard sitting at a desk, studying a glowing glass globe.
“I need to speak to the wizard,” Grange explained.
“Come in, my boy,” Brieed spoke as he continued to look into the globe.
“What do you need?” he asked.
The servant opened the door wide to allow Grange to enter. The wizard continued to stare into the strange glowing ball on his desk.
“Well?” Brieed asked as Grange stood hesitantly before him.
“The prince would like to meet Grace and I,” Grange said. “Prince Grael, that is.”
Brieed looked up from his globe. “Why would the prince want to see you?” he asked sharply.
“Last night there was a fight at the festival where I was playing music, and Grace was there,” Grange said. “You told me to take her with me,” he reminded the wizard.
“The prince was there, and a mob was attacking him, but Grace made a dome of energy with her wand. It protected the prince and the others around him,” Grange gave the simple version of his report.
“Grace does not have the ability to summon enough power to sustain such a dome,” Brieed said. “Can you explain this?”
&n
bsp; “I helped her,” Grange answered.
“You may leave,” Brieed dismissed his acolyte, and watched Jom leave the room.
“How did you help her? Were the jewels involved?” he asked.
“Yes,” Grange admitted simply.
“Beth yr ydych yn ei wneud gydag ef gwirodydd o grisialau?” Brieed spoke hesitantly in a musical tongue.
“Mae'n ein un ni i'w defnyddio. Mae'n eich un chi i hyfforddi. Rydym yn gobeithio y byddwch yn rhoi eich gorau un, ysgaw ef,” the jewels responded aloud.
Brieed sat silently, and Grange could see that he was translating the words.
“Beth fyddwch chi'n ei wneud ag ef? A yw ei fod mewn perygl?” Brieed asked, after he constructed the question he wished to ask.
“Ef mewn perygl. Yr ydym mewn perygl. Mae'r holl fyd, pob bywyd, mewn perygl. Ymddiried ynom, ac yn ymddiried ynddo. Rydym yn paratoi iddo, a gallwch helpu i wneud iddo The Protector,” the voices of the jewels answered, their voices arising from Grange’s forearm.
Brieed translated mentally again, then sighed.
“He is very young,” he spoke.
“He is who he is, born when he was born. Mother Fate made that decision, not us,” the jewels said.
Brieed sat for long seconds with his eyes closed. “So you and Grace saved the prince, and now he wants to thank you? Then we must go to visit the prince. Have you ever been to court? No, of course not,” the tiny man’s conversation drifted into muttering with himself.
“We’ll have to have the proper attire, of course,” he decided out loud.
“I have to play music tonight, my lord,” Grange quickly interjected. He didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to the musicians about the night before, to confirm that Maurin really had killed the city children, as Guy had told him.
“You and your music,” Brieed sighed. “Very well. I will send a note to the court informing them that the two of you will be presented in the morning. In the meantime, go have Grace show you to the palace dressmaker and tailor. The two of you should inform the staff that you are going to be presented to the prince in the morning, and ask for something suitable. Tell them to send the bill to the wizard, of course,” he directed. “Then go off to your music – take Grace with you again, but don’t put her into a mob scene again, please,” he made a dismissive motion with his hand, and Grange was off on his way.
The Elemental Jewels (Book 1) Page 30
