Snowfall

by Brandon Cornwell

  The passageway was identical to all the others in the underground complex, cut out of the gray stone with little in the way of ornamentation. It wasn't far before she came to another pair of doors, much larger and set side by side, with curved tops that matched the arch of the ceiling. She pushed one of them open and entered the chamber.

  The room was similar in shape and design to the one she had been in when Fredrick had attacked her, and for a moment she thought it might be the same one. However, there was only one entrance, and the arrangement of the pillars was different. It was still circular, with a raised stone topped by a massive cluster of crystals. Individual spikes – some as thick as her leg – towered well above her reach. She could feel the energy washing over her skin, resonating with a hum like a tuning fork, and for a moment it caught her off guard. How had she not seen this any of the times she had reached out into the mountain's energy?

  Each pillar was cut from a different mineral, corresponding to the colors of the elements; red, blue, white, brown, black, green, yellow, and orange each had their place around the dais, supporting carved arches that were formed of the same featureless gray stone as everything else.

  Giriraj sat on what appeared to be a wide, padded platform, almost like a bed, except it was round and had no head or foot. Upholstered in red velvet, creases formed a pattern in the surface where wide buttons pulled the material tight against the wooden frame. His long white hair was tied back with several straps of leather, and his beard had been combed and braided, small silver beads binding the ends.

  “You sent for me, Giriraj?” she said, her voice echoing around the chamber.

  “I did. Come and sit next to me.” Nervously, she crossed the chamber and started to climb onto the platform.

  “Take off your shoes.”

  She paused to kick off the soft slippers that she wore, then crawled across the cushion to sit cross-legged next to him, mimicking his posture.

  “Up to this point,” he said, “you have worked in what is known as energy manipulation. This deals with pulling energy from an element either into yourself or an object and forming it with your will to create an effect. It has a massive potential for raw power, but it is unrefined and limited in its scope.” He had his eyes closed, hands resting on his knees. “When I took you to the frozen lands of the far northeast and pulled the volcano out of the ground, I used the same techniques; I drew from energy that was already there to impose my will on what I could see and theoretically touch.”

  Lifting one hand, he gestured around the room. “This room is unique in that it allows for more complex rituals. They range in type, of course, from alchemy to more base, carnal rituals. In a place like this, the energies of more than one person can be brought to bear against a task to complete it. This also allows for combinations of certain elements, provided it is something that we can work with and doesn't counter our own.” He opened his eyes, looking down at her. “You are familiar with the relationships between the elements?”

  “I am.”

  “Describe them to me.”

  Sitting up a little straighter, she cleared her throat. “Well, our element, Earth, is counter to the element of Air. Of the other primary elements, you have Water counter to Fire. In the secondary elements, Creation counters Destruction, and Order counters Chaos.”

  “Correct. And the extended relationships?”

  Amethyst frowned. “I am unfamiliar with any extended relationships. The priests never spoke of such things.”

  Giriraj snorted. “Of course they wouldn't. Their knowledge is limited by dogma and prejudice.” He picked up a small medallion that sat next to him on the cushion. It was silver, about two inches in diameter, and held nine stones, one gem making up each of the eight points, with a large octagonal stone in the center. The top point, closest to the silver bail that the simple necklace passed through was a brown tiger's eye, followed by an emerald, a sapphire, a carnelian, a diamond, an onyx, a ruby, then finally a citrine. The stone in the center was an amethyst, filling the octagon that was formed by the silver that held the other stones in place. Between the points, on the disk of silver, sigils were engraved into the metal, and she recognized some of them as symbols that represented the elements themselves.

  “The pendant is as useful a diagram as you will ever need, until the relationships are ingrained into your memory to the point you no longer need a reference. I assume you know which stones correspond to which element?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, taking the pendant from his hand and studying it. It was of exquisite craftsmanship and looked as if it were made that day. There wasn't a hint of tarnish on it, nor were there any scratches or scuffs that would come from wearing it.

  “The top point represents Earth, of course,” said Giriraj, “and the bottom represents Air. The ruby and sapphire are Fire and Water, respectively, and the citrine represents Chaos. The carnelian is Order, the onyx is Destruction, and the emerald is Creation. What most people who get this far don't know, however, is that the secondary elements can reverse their positions from time to time.”

  He tapped the diamond. “The only element that we are completely unable to work with, in any shape or form, is Air. It is so counter to that which we have an affinity for that it eludes our grasp. Likewise, the Master of Air is unable to work with Earth. He cannot partake in rituals that utilize our element; his mere presence would cancel it out, and if he and I were to work together, we would both be powerless.”

  Amethyst frowned. “There are those who can take our magic from us?”

  Giriraj shook his head. “Not precisely. We draw from that which has our power. Here, in Mount Stromgard, our element overwhelms. Cedric would have no power here. If I were to enter a place and build up the balance of our element and tip the scales, any mage who depended on the element of Air would be diminished, perhaps completely without power. It would be like searching for water in a desert; there would simply be none to find.”

  Amethyst nodded. “That makes sense. I would assume that it would be much the same in the middle of the ocean, for us. There would be too much water, and no place to find the earth to work our magic?”

  Shaking his head, Giriraj frowned. “No, not at all. The ocean sits atop stone, and if we have the power, we can pull it up from the bottom of the sea and form a new island. That is how the Greenreef isles were formed; a powerful wizard, long before the Council was formed, found a place where the sea was shallow and pulled the islands from under the water.” He shrugged. “We could do much the same, if we were so inclined. However, Titus, the Master of Fire, would be utterly powerless. In the middle of an inferno, like a forest fire, Ceara would be unable to draw from her element, so on and so forth.”

  “What this does mean,” he continued, tapping the pendant again, “Is that we can work with other mages, other masters and apprentices, to combine our energies to a specific goal. An example would be if there were a famine or a drought, and Lonwick was starving. We could, conceivably, work with Ceara and Helena, the Master of Creation, and cause the land to become fertile again. Ceara could conjure a storm, while Helena would be able to encourage growth and health, and I would be able to make the soil richer and more fertile for crops.” He spread his hands, looking around the chamber. “And this is where that would happen.”

  Amethyst looked down at the pendant. “Do you work with other Masters often?”

  “Not often, no. In this case, Ceara was graceful enough to agree to work with me on a personal goal. That is why she brought her apprentice. As we speak, they are drawing up their energies, which she will bring to the ritual tomorrow.”

  Amethyst raised her eyebrows. “That's not what it sounded like they were doing.”

  Giriraj looked down at her pointedly. “That is exactly what they were doing. Do not mistake Ceara for a wanton harlot. She is willful and forward, yes, but there is a purpose behind everything she does.”

  Amethyst's heart leapt into her throat. “So... you called me in he
re to... draw up your energy?”

  He set his hand on her leg, sliding it up towards her hip. “Yes. It is one of the duties that you agreed to perform when I took you on as an apprentice.”

  She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasn't that she found him unattractive, or that she wished to disobey him, but she had no desire to engage in such an activity with him. He moved his hand closer, his fingers slipping towards her inner thigh where her legs came together, and she sprang back as if he had burned her.

  He paused, looking down at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Shaking his head in disappointment, he held his hand up. “So you aren't ready for that. Very well.”

  “I'm sorry,” she said, almost stumbling over her words. “I don't know... I've just never-”

  “I know you haven't,” he said, interrupting her. “It's part of what would make this first time particularly useful. However, I haven't had a female apprentice in a very long time, and I do not dabble with men. I will manage.” He gestured to the door. “Go now. Back to your room. I am not angry with you. I will not punish you. However, you do need to understand that this is going to happen, sooner or later. I will wait for a time, but there will come a point where it will happen.” He placed his hands on his knees again, closing his eyes. “Tomorrow, we will speak again.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, hardly more than a whisper, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  ~~~

  Amethyst sat in her room, listening to Ceara and Eamon splash and laugh in the bath. When she had come out of Giriraj's ritual chamber, she had heard them in the bedchamber, the heavy panting and quiet moans making it quite obvious what they were doing.

  She could still feel Giriraj's hand on her thigh where his fingers had brushed against her. She chided herself mentally. She knew what she had agreed to. She had known that this was going to be a part of her duties. Even if he just wanted her to share his bed, without the pretext of performing a ritual, he was well within his rights, according to their agreement.

  Amethyst took a few deep breaths. Like he said, this was something she was going to have to bring herself to be able to do. She closed her eyes, steeling her will. Should she go back and offer herself to him? She had heard stories whispered between some of the other youths that she had tutored with, about different plants that induced desire in both men and women, or when smoked would remove inhibition. Should she see if any of them were among the herbs in Giriraj's collection?

  The thought of drugging herself to satisfy his purposes filled her with distaste. No, if she did do such a thing, she would do it with a clear mind.

  Pushing her storage trunk in front of the door to bar it from unwanted intrusion, Amethyst returned to her bed and slipped out of her trousers. She untied the belt that kept her robe shut and dropped it on the floor, followed by her undergarments. Once in bed, she pulled the blankets over her body and lay on her back, closing her eyes. She imagined Giriraj in her room, naked, climbing into her bed. In her mind, he lay against her, and she spread her knees, moving her hand down to press against herself as he would. She imagined him laying on top of her, sliding inside, and a shudder ran up her spine. She jerked her hand away and clamped her knees together, banishing the image from her mind.

  She rolled to her side and hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the wall. This was not something she could do right now. She didn't know when she would be ready for it, but it was not now.

  Chapter Eleven

  9th Waning Hunger Moon, Year 4368

  Amethyst, Giriraj, Ceara, and Eamon sat around the dining table. Ceara lounged back, one foot up on Eamon's lap, while the young man hunched over to eat his food. She smirked at him, then over at Giriraj.

  “I have to say, it seemed like a success, didn't it?”

  The Master of Earth nodded. “As usual. Nothing can resist the combined might of two Masters.”

  The Master of Water blew a raspberry at him. “Sometimes, Giriraj, I wonder if you're just intent on being dour. I think it's been at least a century since I've seen you smile. Maybe more.”

  Giriraj took a bite of the roast turkey on his plate, not responding.

  Amethyst cleared her throat. “So, what was the ritual for last night?”

  The room fell silent as the other three stared at her. Giriraj narrowed his eyes slightly, then turned back to his food. “This is not a question that one asks, especially not an apprentice. If you are involved in a ritual, then you know the purpose. If you are not, then you do not. That's all there is.”

  “She's new,” said Ceara, taking a drink from her goblet. “She'll learn our ways over time. One isn't born knowing etiquette, you know. If we were, they wouldn't have to write all the rules down in books.”

  Giriraj finished his meal, pushing his plate away. “Amethyst, see to our guests until they are ready to depart. Assist them as they need you. When you are done, come to me for further instruction.”

  “Yes, Giriraj,” she said as he rose from the table.

  Ceara watched him walk out of the room then sighed, swinging her feet from Eamon's lap to the ground. “Be a dear and go gather up my things. Make sure you leave nothing behind. Wait for me there when you are done.”

  “Yes, Master,” said Eamon, who hurriedly drained his goblet and grabbed a bread roll. Hopping up from his chair, he left through the door to the bath chamber, leaving Amethyst and Ceara alone.

  The older woman leaned back in her chair, swirling the wine in her goblet as she watched Amethyst. She seemed to be studying her for a moment, before she leaned forward, setting her cup on the table and tapping her fingernails against it.

  “You turned him down last night.”

  Amethyst paused, looking up at the mage, feeling very on the spot under her scrutiny. “I did. Did he tell you?”

  Ceara snorted. “A blind field mouse could see that a mile off. He's frustrated, you're timid, and he was particularly vigorous last night.”

  Amethyst flushed. “Oh. I thought that... you and Eamon...”

  “Oh, that we did! We shook the sheets once or twice, for sure! But if there's a way to move things around, as it were, well, why not use that one? I enjoy myself, he enjoys himself, toss in a bit of focus, pomp, and circumstance, and we also achieve a goal.” She sipped from her goblet, not breaking eye contact with Amethyst. “Of all the Masters you could have come under, coming under Giriraj is definitely not the worst option.” The bit of inflection the older woman added to her words made Amethyst look away, and Ceara laughed.

  “Ah, I don't even think I remember what it was like to have my maidenhead intact. You might be a lot older than you look, but you're still a kitten as far as I'm concerned.”

  “I, ah, I'm going to... work on it,” said Amethyst, not really knowing what to say. “I know it is a part of my duties, and I do not want to be remiss in that.”

  Ceara nodded, her expression turning a bit more serious. “That's probably a pretty good plan, considering the situation you find yourself in.” She pointed at the door that Giriraj and Eamon had taken. “Of all the powerful men in our order, he is the most powerful. He is, as far as I have seen, a very just man, but he is still a powerful man. Powerful men are used to getting what they want. If something balks them for too long, they tend to become more aggressive, and powerful, aggressive men quickly become powerful, dangerous men.”

  Amethyst looked up at Ceara. “What are you saying?”

  The older woman drained her goblet and set it gently on the table. “What I am saying is that Giriraj has his secrets. He is the oldest amongst us, he is the most powerful, but he keeps himself guarded more than any other. All the rest of us, we have records of our forebears, but there are none for Giriraj. He does not say who his Master was, nor when he took his position, nor how. He simply does not say.” She leaned forward, setting a hand lightly on Amethyst's knee. “If I were you, I would be very, very careful how far you push him with your denial. He has had several apprentices over the centuries th
at I have been the Master of Water, and none of them have progressed much further than being ritual tools before something happens, and he releases them from service.” She shook her head. “I'm not saying to go flying into bed with him, tits out and legs spread, but just be careful.”

  Amethyst nodded, her eyes wide. “I will be.”

  Ceara patted her leg. “See that you are.” She pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “You're new yet, young, pretty, and smart. I'll admit that I'm looking forward to seeing you on the Council. It's a bit of a spear closet there, with all these men waving their egos about. We need some more female guidance in the world if you ask me.”

  She left the room then, and Amethyst was alone. She shook her head, puffing up her cheeks and sighing as she put her face in her hands. This was not what she had had in mind when she left Lonwick.

  ~~~

  4th Waxing Sap Moon, Year 4368

  Giriraj was in a sour mood. While never outright mean, he was short-tempered and snappish, delivering his directives curtly and remaining holed up in his study, poring over this tome or that, scribbling down notes on stacks of parchment. He hadn't eaten, as far as Amethyst had seen, in three days, and she couldn't recall having seen him sleep. He hadn't bathed himself, nor had he requested that she bathe him. She was beginning to worry.

  The library was spotless, the entire bath had been scrubbed from top to bottom, and the spare room that Ceara and Eamon had used had been swept five or six times. Her hands were sore, and she felt like a scullery maid. It had been at least a week since she had gotten anything even resembling a lesson from Giriraj, and she was bored.

  Amethyst sat in an overstuffed chair in the library, leafing through a book on metallurgy when the door to Giriraj's study opened. She had lost herself in examining the differences in crystalline structure between several kinds of metal ores, and looked up, startled. He had bags under his eyes, and the lines in his face were a little deeper than normal.