The Melaki Chronicle

by William Thrash

  Melaki regarded the man as the doctor looked on. One of the gladiators lay there in the sick bed of the medical chambers. He had never seen so clean a place, not even the Rukha all white and scrubbed. The medical chambers were so clean the feeling was surreal. The corridors and chambers were well-lit with crystals. The expense of maintaining this place must have been immense. But he was here to heal.

  He needed to augur this man and the doctor present had to agree. Closing his eyes, he traced a pattern and reached out with it to the man's body. “Forearm broken. Thumb broken. He has the daze from head trauma. He has blood in his urine from his kidneys and something in his lungs. Something... like a cough. Yes, he has the lung cough.”

  Melaki opened his eyes to a frown from the doctor. “The Initiate is correct except for the lungs.”

  Melaki shook his head. “He has the lung cough. I am certain. Also, I am a wizard.”

  The doctor shrugged. “You're wearing initiate robes.” He tapped his finger against his chin and reached for a cone. With a sideways glance at Melaki and the Elets, he placed the cone on the man's chest and put his ear to the other end. He listened for quite some time and then straightened.

  Elet Abisin raised his eyebrows at the doctor. “Well?”

  The doctor nodded. “The initiate is correct. This man has the early stages of the lung cough. I had not caught it because it is so faint.”

  Abisin nodded. “Passed. Now work healing.”

  The man's arm was obviously broken. The bone was sticking out of his skin on the forearm. There were other injuries, but Melaki only needed heal one. With his head pounding and his vision swimming, he opted for just a standard heal. But this was harder than he imagined. Spirit healing was easy as it used power not of one's self. Healing was an intensive process that required envisioning the wound and directing healing energy to it. Spirit energy was fast. The giant method using inherent powers was slow. But Melaki could not afford to be slow.

  He caressed the wound with his eyes and imprinted the image in his mind. Then he closed his eyes and began working his pattern of healing. He could see the bone begin to move, but it was too slow. After a moment of concentration, he was panting. then he realized he had forgot to move his lips. He opened his eyes to pensive looks from the wizards. He closed his eyes again and directed a surge of adrenaline within himself, all the while moving his lips. Then he recalled the broken bone on the man and began working his pattern. The room spun as he focused more intently on the pattern. But he needed to be faster. He poured his being into the pattern and willed the formation of the knot to materialize faster. He could feel it accelerating. The man beneath him groaned in pain. With an audible hiss of effort, he finished the pattern and jerked his hands as if he were holding the man's arm.

  With a snap, the bone pulled in and crunched back into place. The man screamed. With a deft twist to the pattern, Melaki sealed off the hole in the man's arm the protruding bone had caused. This brought murmurs of approval from the doctor and the Elets.

  Melaki opened his eyes. He wiped sweat from his brow and said, “Healing seems a little difficult for me.”

  Daska frowned. “Healing is one of the easiest. Nevertheless, you passed.”

  Elet Abisin nodded. “Doctor? Please. Your most pressing case of disease?”

  “This way.” The doctor led the way to another room. Only one bed was occupied while two Wizards of the Second Ward who had devoted their lives to healing stood in the room. The man on the bed was patchy white with leprosy. “We saved him for you.”

  Melaki moved through everyone to stand by the bed. No need for augury here, leprosy was this man's problem. Exerting focus, he formed his pattern and worked it through the man's body, cleansing the leprosy from the flesh. He opened his eyes and looked at the healthy flush of clean skin.

  Elet Abisin muttered, “Slow, but successful. Are you sure you want to test for the fourth ward today?”

  Melaki nodded grimly. His tone was final. “I want it done.”

  He could have left the Rukha as a Wizard of the First Ward, but his life would be nothing but construction. First Ward Wizards were used to move blocks into place for the palaces and aqueducts being built around the Altanles Imperium. With his ability at the First Ward, Melaki might even have captured a coveted construction position in the capital, Afalon. But construction was not freedom in the sense hoped for. Some graduated the second ward and went for the Northland, a large island recently reconquered and reclaimed by the Altanles Empire.

  The fourth ward testing was done in the nearby arena complex. Melaki enjoyed the humid air on the stroll to the arena. It warmed and cooled him at the same time. The white cobblestones of the city streets were almost as clean as the Rukha's. Trees shaded the avenue and apple sellers mixed in with jewelry vendors lined the street in neat stalls.

  Just before entering the arena complex, Melaki stopped at an apple vendor and purchased a bright red and gold-streaked apple.

  Elet Abisin cleared his throat in indignation. “The testing is not the time for eating.”

  “Sorrow, Elet Abisin. Is eating forbidden between testings?” Melaki cast his gaze to the ground.

  Several Elets muttered “No.”

  Wiping the apple on his white robe, he strode into the complex. He ate the apple, seeds and all, by the time he ventured out into the dirt of the arena floor. Only Daska accompanied him. The Elets stood in the front row of benches above and behind the arena wall.

  Daska said, “Kill the prisoner. He has been condemned to death.”

  With a nod from Abisin, a metal grate raised and a scruffy-looking man emerged. He was holding a spear. Even condemned prisoners were given a chance to fight.

  With a roar, the prisoner bolted forward towards Melaki. The adrenaline that had been coursing through his body still served him. Though he knew he was slowing down, he calmly constructed his spell. Shooting out his hand, a bolt of pure blue energy raced from him and slammed the man's upper torso backwards. The prisoner's feet flew forward and he landed on his back. Smoke rose from the dead man's chest.

  “Most initiates use a ball of fire. Yours reminds me of our energy crystals. Interesting.” Elet Abisin nodded his approval. Two of the Elets actually applauded.

  Daska produced an apple from his robe pocket and moved towards the Elets. Melaki followed.

  Daska held up the apple by the arena wall in view of the Elets. “Wizard Melaki, blight the fruit.”

  The apple he had ate provided a pittance of needed energy to keep him standing. His limbs were quivering and he still had the hardest ward to come. He focused inward, drew his knotted pattern and put it into the apple. He gave the pattern a small spin and opened his eyes. The apple was black with mold.

  Daska dropped the thing in distaste. “Success.”

  Elet Abisin shook his head in wonder at Melaki. “I am impressed, Wizard. Disease that dead man and let's see if you can progress to the fifth ward.”

  Melaki's chest swelled with pride that the Elet did not doubt he could pass the last of the fourth ward. He strode to the prisoner he had killed and formed leprosy healing in reverse. That seemed the simplest way. With his eyes closed, he focused on the rot and disease. His head swam, but he kept the image.

  Dimly he was aware of groans. He kept the pattern working, and made sure his magic covered the body.

  "Enough!" Abisin's voice was filled with ire.

  Melaki's eyes snapped open and he released the magic in a panic. Had he failed? But he need not have worried; the body on the ground was covered in lesions, pustules and split skin. Even he backed away from his own work. The dead man no longer resembled a man.

  As they left the arena, Scribe Daska leaned in towards Melaki. “Are you sure you want to try the fifth ward testing? We can see you shaking. Surely this could wait until next week?”

  “I appreciate your concern, Scribe Daska.” His legs wobbled as they climbed a small hill overlooking the arena. “But I want this finished. When I am done,
I want to leave here and never return. Did not headmistress say if I failed to finish all the wards, my end was sacrifice?”

  Daska frowned, but he nodded. A wizard of any ward had the right to travel where he pleased unless in the direct employ of the Imperium. Melaki could have walked away as soon as he acquired his robe, but he needed finality to his time here at the Rukha.

  At the peak of the hill, the Elets, Renta's assistant Sam-Adad, and several of the Scribe Instructors formed a large circle. Melaki was in the center.

  Daska smiled with pride at his student. “Wizard Melaki, you are commanded to summon a creature.”

  A breeze blew the humid air through Melaki's hair. The feeling was soothing and for a second he relaxed in the feel of the air on his face. The ocean breeze was salty though he knew he could not see the beach from here. He wanted to lay down on the sand and rest. He wanted to let the breeze blow over him. He looked skyward at the roiling waters high in the sky - so high that the undulations of the water barrier appeared like a silken cloth in the breeze. But suddenly, something ominous clouded his thoughts. Something about the water barrier.

  Looking down, he noted with alarm that the Elets were still waiting. He did not know how much time had passed. Quickly, he formed a pattern for a snake. Snakes were popular amongst the fifth ward pupils. With an effort at duplication, he formed several patterns. He raised his hands to the sky in an effort to maintain the patterns as individual and separate formations. His arms quaked and his knees wobbled. It would have to be enough. With a shout, he brought down his hands and stumbled to the ground.

  Before him, the dirt of the hill was stirring with an anger. In an explosion of dust, asps sprung forth all around him facing outward. The cacophony of hissing was met by alarmed shouts as the observers all began casting spells to counter the asps. There must have been at least two dozen spitting snakes. Within seconds, they were gone.

  Alarm was replaced with exclamations and praise. Abisin was shaking his head but he was smiling in admiration.

  Melaki did not have time to enjoy the success. His vision swam in a familiar way. He began to get a flat taste in his mouth. His ears began ringing. A vision was coming.

  Not now!

  Panic overwhelmed him and he felt the blood drain from his skin. He was so close - only two tests remained. He tried to stop the vision, but it kept coming. A vision could take as little as a few seconds or last as long as several hours. He could not afford to have a vision at this moment. But it was coming and fast.

  In desperation, he turned to Elet Abisin. He spoke as fast as he could. "I will finish the last two tests in one."

  It was not form for the initiate to make demands. Traditions were held and change frowned upon. But was he not a wizard now?

  He did not have time to listen to the rejections. He did not have time to argue or convince. The vision was almost upon him and he could tell it was going to be bad. His knees were buckling and his body shook with the effort of standing. A sob broke from his mouth as he turned to Abisin. Quickly, he spun a knot and hovered it over the Elet's head.

  The Elet knew he was a target. He drew in breath but Melaki shot his finger out to point at Abisin. “Trust me!”

  Using his other hand, he sketched a pattern. A wind rose, calm at first. Melaki poured everything he had into it except enough to maintain the pattern over Abisin's head. This had to work. His strength drained from him with a speed that meant he had only seconds and no more. He pulled heavily on the weather pattern and fell with the motion to his knees. The vision was upon him.

  The wind grew to a roar, or so Melaki thought. It was hollow and distant in his ears. Did he still control it? Would he pass this test? He remembered Abisin. He yelled as loud as he could, over the wind, “Elet!”

  Each word was an increasing effort until each syllable caused pain. “See what I see!”

  The wind tore at his mouth, ripping his breath away. He lowered the pattern to Abisin and merged them. “Hear what I hear!”

  He was not sure he even heard himself. A black cloud the size of which struck fear in his heart roiled over the hilltop - the entire town. With a last pull of effort from his fading consciousness, Melaki finished the weather pattern and brought it down to the ground. A bolt of lightning thicker than a temple pillar arced back and forth in the cloud above them and shot down to strike the ground in front of Melaki.

  That was the last thing he remembered of his awakened state. He felt his body fly through the air as the vision consumed him.

  He was standing on the same hilltop and Abisin was there. Terror streaked his eyes but he was oddly transparent as if he were not all there. The vision was always painful. The feeling of reality was sharpened here in the vision-state. Everything felt more substantial. He could feel the hill beneath him, smell the soil, feel the wind moreso than when he was not having visions.

  The water barrier above flashed with odd lights. Enormous lights that arced across the entire sky. The ground beneath him groaned and began to shift. Something in the lights above was causing disturbances in the ground below. Melaki was not sure how. The air was pregnant with energy and the ground began to move. The overwhelming sensations were painful. Melaki sobbed and tears streamed down Abisin's face.

  The ground jumped and then ripped. A fissure of gargantuan size rent the town beneath them. Buildings were swallowed whole into the fissure. Water from the ocean rushed in with a ferocity that tore the breath from their mouths. Part of the land was shifting away and sinking. The ocean reared up into a titanic wave and crashed down on the remaining part of the town. Buildings were washed away like so much flotsam in a storm. Only those in the hills to the far west survived.

  In a final act of horror, the hill on which they were standing dropped from beneath them into darkness and water. Ocean spray assaulted them as they fell. Their screams of terror were cut short by oblivion.

  Visions were real. Visions were true, and visions never failed.

  CHAPTER 2

  Melaki wanted to rest, but he wanted a taste of freedom. Occasionally initiates were given leave to walk the town nearby. But as that he was now a full wizard of the fifth ward with his black robe and gold trimmings, he wanted to be free.

  He would return and sleep in his initiate's room until assigned something better the next day, but tonight he wanted a drink.

  Or three. Or five.

  He had spent the day trying to recover, trying to eat, and trying to avoid the sudden avalanche of amazement at something never before done by an initiate or wizard. He would have liked to stride through the halls basking in the glow of praise, relishing his triumph, and reveling with those who wanted to know how he did it. But he could not.

  I'm just not some hero from a story, is all. I'm just a man.

  He stepped out into the cooling air, ignoring the compliments of the initiate standing at the gate. What did he care what the student thought?

  I am a full wizard now.

  He walked with an assured weariness to the tavern he liked to frequent when he could get away, The Swaggering Swine. A painting on the sign showed a pig prancing about with a cup in one hoof.

  The blast of warm air, noise, music and raucous voices washed over him as he entered. Silence did not greet him, though a temporary drop in the noise level did. The usuals regarded him and his new robes, then went on with whatever they had been shouting about before.

  He plopped down into a chair at a table near the minimal fire.

  “You steal that robe, initiate?” a regular called to him.

  “Earned it.” His grin shut the man up.

  “Fancy robes,” said Erilyn, the barmaid.

  He grunted. “They're scratchy. I'll need a good half dozen meads lined up right here.” He pointed and placed down a gold imperial coin.

  A raised eybrow on one side told him she would deliver no matter the clothing. “Right away, master.”

  He watched the woman thread towards the bar. She was attractive, but everyone else th
ought so, too.

  What am I going to do? Where am I going to go?

  It was then that he saw another wizard enter the tavern.

  What's this?

  He had never seen him here before, but it was difficult to make him out through the haze.

  “Melaki, friend,” said Domo, a tavern regular.

  “Sit.” He gestured expansively.

  “You steal those robes?”

  “No, I earned them.”

  “You?”

  Melaki grinned. “This day even.”

  “Pah!” Domo waved dismissively.

  “Indeed, friend.”

  Domo grunted. “Do not see many black robes in here.” He cast a glance at the other black-robed wizard.

  “Mmm.” He focused his own glance at the other wizard. There was something familiar about him.

  “Are you too good for us now?” Domo frowned.

  Melaki swept his arm inches over the meads stacked in front of him. “Does it look so?”

  “How come by you such success when it was so distant before?”

  He frowned and looked into his cup. The liquid there was sure. Solid. It was there. “Maybe I learned a trick.”

  A slap on his arm jolted him. Domo winked. “Well done, then.”

  The other wizard peered at him through the haze of smoke from the torches and fireplace.

  Was that? Yes, it was Talin. What was Talin doing here?

  “I'm not sure I could not have done all the wards of testing before. It was very easy.”

  “You did them all?” Domo sounded doubtful.

  The lute player plucked a series of strings that resonated with his soul. He waxed thoughtful. “I mixed two together at the end.”

  He did not mention the vision.

  “And I caused no end of argument and surprise at what I did.”

  “Surprise?” said Domo.

  “Indeed. I surprised the Elets.”

  An eyebrow told him Domo was not buying it.

  “What? You?” Domo leaned back and laughed.

  Melaki formed a simple light pattern in his mind and produced the result in Domo's mug. Blue light shot forth from the top of the man's mug.