by Jordan Baker
“And what about you? What are you doing here? Do you work here, in the library? And why does everything you write disappear?” Aaron asked him. Anonymous held up a hand.
“One question at a time, young Aaron. First, I suppose I do work here, in the library, in fact I pretty much live here. It is where I spend most of my time. And the whole disappearing thing, well, that is just a simple extension of my own predicament. You see, I am invisible. The real question is why you can see me.” Anonymous reached up and drew the large hood from his face. Aaron was surprised to see how normal Anonymous looked. He had dark hair and a face that seemed of a similar age to Lord Carlis, well-travelled but not yet old. Anonymous continued. “I am cursed to be what I am, which is most accurately denoted by the name Anonymous. Many many years ago, I was cursed never to be seen or heard by any mortal who walked the earth. I was cursed by those powerful enough to make such a curse. You, my young friend, are the first person I have spoken with in nearly a thousand years.”
Aaron was astonished and he hardly believed it.
“A thousand years? How is it that you are still alive? Who cursed you?” Aaron asked the first few of a thousand questions that flooded into his mind. Anonymous chuckled.
“First, as for my longevity, my magic sustains me. I am a spiritual being, a user of magic of sorts, you see, or at least I think I was, there is much knowledge from my former life that has been taken from me. And as for who cursed me, that question is too dangerous to answer for that knowledge was part of the reason I suffer this way. I would not want to subject you to a similar fate.”
Aaron was fascinated by what the mysterious character had told him. It was not every day that a person got to meet a thousand year old mage. He was also surprised that he did not feel one of his headaches coming on as would normally happen if he was anywhere near a magic user. Perhaps it had something to do with the curse Anonymous lived under.
“Why can’t you just magic yourself out of this curse?” Aaron asked.
“If only it were that easy.” Anonymous shrugged. “My magic has no effect on anything in this world. I was powerful before the curse. I could conjure a lightning storm for you here in this room and though I can feel the charge of power and the wind issuing from my fingertips, I would be lucky if you felt even a gentle draft. That is the nature of my curse. I live as a shadow.” Aaron understood.
“Like the writing in the book. It disappears almost as quickly as you write it. I watched it happen to the final page when I was copying it down,” Aaron told him. Anonymous nodded.
“But now we are talking. I wonder, will you remember the things I tell you?” he mused. Aaron shrugged in response. Anonymous smiled at that. “It matters not. At least you can see me and hear me now. There is much I might teach you if you have a mind to learn, young Aaron.” Anonymous tapped his head. “I have a good many things to tell the right person.”
“How do you know I am the right person?” Aaron asked, suddenly aware of the fact that not only was he sitting in a secret room but he was talking to a thousand year old mage who just happened to be invisible. He wondered that he was not scared out of his wits. Anonymous calmly rose from his seat and walked toward the nearest shelf. He lifted a book from it and carried it back to the table. He handed it to Aaron and resumed his seat.
“Open it,” he said. Aaron opened the small volume and flipped through its many pages. He closed it and slid it across the table to Anonymous.
“It is blank,” he told him. Anonymous reached out and picked up the book.
“Is it?” he asked, opening it to the first page. He began to read. “At its beginning, the House of Kandara was comprised of three distinct families allied as a House yet in constant struggle for the throne. These families are as follows. Akandar, Akari and Karena…” Anonymous paused. He closed the book and slid it back across the table to Aaron. He picked it up and opened it to the beginning. There, before him on the page were the words Anonymous had spoken. Aaron watched as the words began to fade before his eyes. Anonymous spoke again and more words began to appear on the page. “Errican of the Akari became the first King of Kandara when, with the help of the three families he expelled the Warlord Gisha from the Mountain Land which became known as Kandara.” Anonymous stopped again. “Look at the page, Aaron. See the words. They are there. If you look carefully, you can see them.”
Aaron squinted at the page and blinked as he suddenly saw the faint outlines of the rest of the text begin to appear. He concentrated harder and felt his head begin to throb as he stared at the cream coloured bound parchment. He felt the scratches of the quill appear under his thumb which held open the next page. The faint marks on the page began to darken and within moments, the entire text was visible. Aaron took a deep breath as he read more of the page. It told of the formation of the Royal Court of Kandara and what Lords and Ladies were present at Errican’s inaguration. After what seemed like a few moments, Aaron closed the book and rubbed the back of his neck.
“How is this possible?” Aaron asked the mysterious man. Anonymous smiled.
“That is a question you seem better equipped to answer than I. I am merely grateful that my writings have not been in vain. Knowledge is all that remains to me my young friend and it can be a powerful thing.” Anonymous reached out and Aaron handed him the book. “You may return here if you like, and read what you wish. If I can answer any questions for you, I will do so,” Anonymous told him as he placed the book on the table in front of himself and opened it to a random page in the middle. “For now, you must return. The Library will be shut soon and it would not do for you to miss your morning roll call.”
Aaron knew he had arrived late to the Library but was unsure how much time had passed. He blinked looked at the book in front of him and realized that he now knew every word that was written on every page. It was the entire history of the Akari rule of Kandara.
“I read the entire book,” Aaron stammered. He had not remembered turning the pages but somehow he knew every one of them. “How long have we been here?” Anonymous smiled.
“You will find my books read more quickly than those written by others, but they do take some time. By another hand, that history would take most people a day or more to read. You have been here a little more than an hour. Not long, to my mind.” Aaron felt more than a little uncomfortable. He still knew almost nothing of this strange mage.
“I should go,” Aaron agreed. Anonymous nodded and gestured at the nearby wall.
“That is the way you came. I hope to see you again, whenever you wish to visit.” He pulled his cowl from his shoulders and draped it again over his head. Aaron stood and smiled awkwardly at the man.
“Thank you,” Aaron said, unable to find any other words for the moment. He turned and, bracing himself, walked through the wall, disappearing into the heavy stone.
Still seated, Anonymous watched him go and from beneath the cowl a tear landed on the page of the open book, blurring one of the carefully written words. Anonymous gritted his teeth at the contradiction of the fear and joy that rose in his chest. It had been too long since he had spoken, with anyone.
CHAPTER NINE
The intensive training schedule demanded by the Academy coupled with his almost nightly visits with Anonymous kept Aaron busy for the rest of the summer. Though he remained apprehensive at first, Aaron eventually warmed up to the mysterious mage that haunted the Library. Anonymous, in turn, began to show some human warmth that his thousand year enforced silence had not managed to entirely steal from his personality. Aaron marvelled at the knowledge his cloaked friend had stored away in his mind and was gratified that he was able to give Anonymous the chance to tell him some of it. Anonymous had a passion for knowledge and Aaron tried to imagine how awful it must have been for him to be unable to communicate the things he knew.
After a while, Aaron discovered that the mage also possessed an uncanny ability to point out the many ironies in the history of the world and often presented them as if ex
istence itself more often than not was pretty much some kind of convoluted joke. On that particular perspective Aaron did not necessarily agree with the ancient mage and decided that he was probably more than a little bitter about having lived under the curse of silence for so long. How he came to be cursed was on of the few stories Anonymous would not tell Aaron. Aaron respected the mage and contented himself with the fact that he had perhaps the best tutor of any of the students at the Academy.
Aaron had only managed to leave the Academy for one evening with some of the other trainees who had convinced him to go out to a nearby tavern with them. He had been surprised at the bustle of Maramyr. He had forgotten the brief glimpse he had barely had a chance to enjoy upon his arrival with Ehlena several months ago. He realized how sequestered they at the Academy were from the rest of the populace and resolved to learn more about the capital city of the Kingdom.
It was not until Autumnfest that Aaron was again given leave to spend some time outside the Academy. The Captains felt it was wise since a lot of the noble families would traditionally visit Maramyr for the festival and none of them wanted to tell a noble mother that she was not permitted to see her darling child after such an extended absence.
Aaron and Borrican set out early on their first day in search of curiosities. They wandered around the city as the sun came up and shopkeepers shook their carpets out of their doors, opening for business. After walking around for a short while Borrican decided that his clothes were a little garish and he talked Aaron into helping him pick out some new clothes.
“How would you like to visit the palace?” Borrican asked him.
“The palace?” Aaron had never even considered the idea. “How?”
“How?” Borrican laughed. “We go to the gate and they let us in. My uncle is a guest there,” he explained.
“Why not?” Aaron agreed. “I haven’t yet been to the palace of Maramyr.” He made light of it, remembering that as far as Borrican or any other student at the High Academy was concerned, he was supposed to be just another highborne.
“Then we shall both need new clothes. In the latest Maramyrian fashion, of course,” Borrican announced with a grin.
Once they had made their way into the city proper, Aaron noticed a tailor’s sign that had the Valamyr coat of arms on it and led his friend into the small shop. He told Borrican that the Valamyr family were known for their elegance and that they should be served well by one of their shops. Aaron was pleased he could demonstrate that he had at least some knowledge of the city, although that was about all he knew. They spent some time picking out some improvements to Borrican’s wardrobe and Aaron tried out a few things for himself. Once done, Aaron looked at himself in a large mirror. His face was still clean-shaven from the morning and his blonde hair was tied back with a leather cord. His eyes seemed to take on the colour of both the blue material and grey fur fringe of the coat the tailor had suggested for him. Both he and Borrican decided that they looked presentable enough to walk about the city and to visit the palace.
They ate at a tavern across the road while their clothes were tailored and laughed at a minstrel who sang a raunchy song about a queen and her jester. Borrican commented that it was a good thing Maramyr was without a queen at present or the minstrel might have found himself in some trouble. They finished their ale and found the tailor had quickly and expertly finished the work. Newly garbed, Aaron felt especially good now that he did not look as though he was Borrican’s servant. Borrican was also pleased with the deep green hunting clothes he had chosen. He no longer felt he stood out as much as he had before in his Kandaran clothing.
The older boy’s beard had grown in a little thicker and though his face was still youngish, it made him look somewhat older. In the hunting greens, he looked very much like a rogue, albeit a wealthy one. Borrican folded his outfit of deep purple and a light golden yellow then packed it in a bag the tailor would send back to the Academy. Aaron remembered from his readings that those were the colors of Kandara. He knew that Borrican was some kind of noble from there, and had quietly wondered what kind of noble he was but had always refrained from asking. Aaron had learned by watching, that the other trainees held a certain respect for Borrican that went beyond his own successes on the practice field.
Aaron had never really been exposed to nobles the way he was in Maramyr, so he decided to keep quiet about his own less illustrious background. At the Academy, they mostly treated him as equals so Aaron did the same. He was thankful for the rules against rank within the Academy, however it came as no great surprise when Borrican led Aaron right up to the front gate of the royal palace and was admitted immediately. The guard at the gate snapped to attention as they approached.
“Prince Borrican Akandra, here to see my uncle.”
“Right away sir.” the guard snapped and opened the gate. “You are expected.” As they passed into the courtyard, Borrican turned and whispered to Aaron.
“I trust you with my family and rank. It is not for the others at the Academy. You do not need to tell me yours. I have to see my uncle. There is some trouble at home.”
Aaron nodded quietly. He had expected Borrican to be some sort of upper noble in Kandara, but was surprised to discover that he was a prince. Akandra was the name of the ruling family and Aaron knew that there were only two Kandran princes. He knew from his studies that Borrican was the younger, second in line for the throne and destined to be a powerful duke or general. Aaron found a new respect for his friend. Not because he knew he was a noble but because Borrican had never acted like one, at least not the way some of the other boys sometimes did when displeased with a Captain. They passed another set of guards and it was then that it finally sunk in for Aaron that he was actually in the palace, walking around as though it was nothing.
They walked up a wide stone staircase from what seemed to be a main receiving area. Rich looking tapestries hung from the walls giving a bit of warmth to what seemed to be grey stone with stone upon more stone. They advanced down a long corridor with heavy oak doors offset from each other all the way down. Aaron had thought Ehlena’s aunt’s house had been lavish but the majesty of these chambers was on a whole different scale altogether. The style was different as well. Everything was understated and had less colour to it, muted earth tones of stone and marble with faded tapestries, but the palace was far more regal than anything he had seen before. Aaron wondered if perhaps it felt that way because of the sheer size of every room and hall.
A pair of servants exited a door down the hall and passed Aaron and his friend. It was that door which was manned by two sentries at which Borrican stopped. He flashed a signet ring which Aaron had not seen him put on and the guards looked back at the wall opposite them. The door opened and an elderly man opened the door.
“Prince Borrican. Welcome,” he said in his dry old voice. He looked at Aaron. “And welcome also...?”
“Aaron,” Borrican told him.
“Aaron. Ah, yes, a friend from the Academy. Not a word then.” He winked and bowed, much to Aaron’s surprise. Then he spoke to Borrican. “I’m afraid your uncle the Duke is at an audience with King Cerric at the moment. Shall I fix you gentlemen some refreshments while you wait?” Borrican nodded.
“Whatever is easiest, thank you, Henry. Good to see you again,” Borrican told him, smiling at the old man. Henry bowed
“Of course, Prince Borrican. Always a pleasure. Take yourselves into the sitting room, I will return shortly with strong drink. I expect your uncle to arrive any moment and I do not think he will be pleased by his meeting with Cerric.” he said and left them.
Borrican led Aaron into the sitting room, which to Aaron looked like more than enough room to merely sit. Furnished with large couches and chairs, with low tables before them, the room was set up to seat several dozen people comfortably. Borrican threw himself into one of the large chairs and Aaron wandered throughout the room while they waited. Large shelves built of a dark wood were set into the walls and Aaron glanced
through the many titles on the volumes shelved there. He came across a book, The Royal History of Maramyr and took it from the shelf. He looked over to Borrican.
“May I?” he asked, holding out the book. Borrican nodded and leaned his head back into the high back of the chair. Aaron sat on the neighboring couch and was leafing through the vast tomb when he heard Henry’s voice again at the entrance. He came in carrying a tray with a large silver kettle and many small cups. Moments after he entered the door flew open and a small entourage of people led by a large, barrel-chested, richly clad man scowling beneath his dark moustache. Aaron guessed correctly that he was Borrican’s uncle.
“Borrican!” he called as the young men stood. “Good to see you again, nephew.”
“Uncle Boric.” Borrican nodded and took his uncle’s big grip. “I must say the same. This is my friend Aaron from the Academy.” He introduced them and Aaron shook hands with the Kandaran Duke.
“Well met young man!” he said. “But where are my manners? Borrican, I have someone for you to meet. Regent-King Cerric thought it would be a nice idea for you to accompany his niece out into the city to enjoy some of the festivities for Autumnfest this day.” He turned and gestured to the very beautiful, fair-haired young lady who had followed him into the room along with a retinue of servants. She had practically been blocked from view by the man's robust stature and he stepped aside to let her past. “May I present the very lovely, Princess Ariana of Maramyr.” Duke Boric announced the girl's title proudly with a flourish that came off as a little awkward for a man of his size. Aaron also saw the Duke wink at his nephew.
The princess was had fine features that were almost delicate but she was no waif. Elegant yet strong, she stood with confidence and, now that Aaron took a closer look at her, he found she had a kind of presence in the room, understated yet majestic, every bit the heir of the kingdom of Maramyr. The princess's eyes looked carefully at Borrican, then at Aaron. Aaron felt the depth of her gaze as she stared at his him and he felt the top of his neck itch again and could not help but scratch it. As she broke his gaze he felt the itching subside. She looked at Borrican.
