Wizard's Education

by James Eggebeen

  "A wizard and the temple. I could sense the mix of powers in the storm." Lorit was more worried than before. Without Zhimosom's counsel and with a wizard and the temple on their trail, things were not looking good.

  The server came over and took their order. She returned quickly and deposited a freshly roasted fowl on the table.

  "What do you think of that storm?" she asked.

  "It was quite something," Lorit said. "We were just out of Nebrook when it hit. It tossed us around pretty bad."

  "You were out to sea when it hit?" She pulled out the bench and sat, leaning her head on her hand.

  "Yes, we were. We were on the Silver Sun."

  "You're lucky to be alive if everyone here is to be believed. That was the worst storm in generations. Almost every ship that was out to sea was lost, from what I hear. How is it that you survived?"

  "We had a great Captain."

  "Girl! What are you doing?" came a voice from the kitchen.

  The serving girl quickly jumped up and ran for the kitchen. "Just yell if you need anything," she called over her shoulder.

  They finished their breakfast and headed back to their room. Lorit sat back and relaxed, reaching out for Rotiaqua. The contact formed and he found himself in the wizard's study. The sorceress was seated in Zhimosom's chair. Rotiaqua held up her hand. "A moment, please." She was studying a large volume open on the table.

  There was a shimmer in the air and a violet cloud formed. It solidified and Chihon appeared beside him. Lorit noticed that Rotiaqua was looking frailer than before.

  The sorceress had always looked old, but as long as Lorit had known her, she had been vibrant and energetic as if she were a young woman inside an old body. Now she had an appearance of frailty that she had never shown before, and the worry showed on her face.

  "The ship was in a storm that almost sank us."

  Rotiaqua looked them over. "I perceived as much."

  "We could have been killed," Lorit blurted. "It took all of our strength to hold the ship together in that storm. If Chihon had not been able to locate the sun using her magic and navigate us out, we would still be stuck in the fog, hoping not to run aground."

  "But you survived," Rotiaqua said.

  "We survived, but something about that storm felt wrong," Lorit said. "I could feel a wizard's magic in it, and the temple."

  "Wizard's magic, you say? And the temple?" Rotiaqua wrinkled her brow. "I am not able to sense as much as I used to. I did feel the scent of a wizard about that storm. It's somehow familiar, yet strange at the same time."

  "What should we do?" Lorit asked.

  "Continue on. Keep heading for Midian. You should be able to get the help you need there."

  "Any luck finding Zhimosom?" Lorit was concerned. If Rotiaqua was growing weaker, so was Zhimosom. He didn't know how much longer the pair could last.

  "Nothing of Zhimosom, and I fear I may not be much help either. My power is fading fast."

  With that, the sorceress turned to mist and dissipated, leaving Lorit sitting in the room with Chihon.

  Chapter 15

  Princess Ukina and the monk Tormu arrived in Mistwind late in the afternoon. Tormu guided her to the temple, where he made himself known to the monks. They were seated on cushions scattered about the floor of an ornately decorated room. An old monk wearing the orange robes of his order entered, leaning on his staff. When he saw Ukina, he stopped short. He looked at her strangely and then glanced over at Tormu.

  "Just so," Tormu said.

  Princess Ukina wondered what they were talking about, but she had learned not to ask too many questions of the monk. Tormu only quoted parables, riddles, or more of his enigmatic koans in reply to her questions.

  The old monk hobbled over to her. As he approached, a young boy ran over and placed a cushion on the floor. He folded his rickety legs as he lowered himself into position next to her. Princess Ukina was impressed that he was so flexible. Her own legs were sore from all the walking and climbing they had done to reach the temple.

  The monk tossed his staff down next to him. It clattered as it hit the polished marble. He slowly turned his attention to Princess Ukina and looked into her eyes, his ancient face frowning. She could see the milky film covering his light blue eyes and wondered how well he could actually see her.

  "I am Kour," he said, reaching out toward her. He touched her face gently. His wrinkled hands were rough, almost like leather on her skin. He turned her head slightly, looking into her eyes the whole time; gently, he moved her head from side to side until he appeared satisfied.

  "Indeed," he said to no one in particular.

  She was getting tired of the cryptic monks and their tight lips. "What is it?" From their lack of response, Ukina thought they might as well have been deaf. They carried on as if she had remained silent.

  "It is true? Has the holy one taken on a new form?" Tormu asked.

  Kour motioned off to the side. Another monk entered, carrying a large book. He sat down across from Princess Ukina and opened it. He searched through it for a while, eventually settling on a drawing of a mini dragon. He turned the book so that they all could see it.

  "Are you certain?" Tormu asked. He shook his head. "So soon?"

  "Just so," Kour replied.

  "Forgive my disbelief." Tormu bowed his head toward the monk holding the book.

  "According to my visions, it has only just come to pass. We have not yet checked for ourselves," Kour explained. "Would you be so kind as to accompany us?"

  "I would be honored."

  "Wait a minute! What's going on here? Why are you ignoring me?" The princess demanded.

  Kour reached out and touched her cheek with his dry leathery hand. He turned her head to face him. She could see those milky eyes coming closer until all she could see was him. "This could be your salvation. Be patient, my child. All will be well."

  She relaxed almost against her will. Something about the old monk was soothing and comforting. He stood again nimbly without the aid of his staff. He reached down and helped her up, then retrieved his staff and bent over it.

  "Come."

  Princess Ukina followed them out of the temple and down streets lined with homes and shops until they reached the cemetery. Crypts of varying sizes and construction lined the winding path. Deep in the cemetery was a large marble structure with golden doors. The monk walked up to it and examined the doors. One door bore an engraving of a short stout man. The other one had an intricate depiction of a mini dragon.

  Kour ran his hand over the seam between the doors. It looked as if it had been sealed by heat, the gold flowing together in ripples piled one atop the other. Down the middle of the seam, a deep gash had been cut to break the seal.

  He pulled at the door, and it opened effortlessly. Inside was a small casket sitting atop a marble pedestal. Dried flowers covered the floor and were scattered everywhere.

  Kour stepped up and ran his hands along the edge of the intricately decorated casket. He found what he was looking for and pulled. With a pop, the casket opened.

  It was empty, save for a small scroll tied with a green ribbon.

  Kour reached inside and retrieved the scroll. Carefully, he untied the ribbon and unrolled the paper within. There was only an elaborate pictograph on it, nothing more.

  "What does it say?" Princess Ukina asked.

  "It's the name the holy one has chosen to use in his new incarnation. He has chosen a mini dragon for his next life."

  "What does it say? I can't read the words."

  "One does not speak the name of a dragon aloud," Kour said. "It is magic. Strong magic."

  He ran his hands over the symbol. Princess Ukina watched as his lips moved soundlessly. She could have sworn she heard him mutter, "Kal'ryni."

  The next morning, Princess Ukina and Tormu returned to the temple. Tormu insisted that they had to see the head monk before they departed. She was eager to get back on the road. Veldwaite awaited her just at the foot of the mountai
ns, and she was anxious about the trip home.

  Kour was sitting on his cushion in the reception area when they arrived. He nodded to her, then to the cushion beside him. "Please sit a while."

  She took the cushion and waited. He watched her quietly, and just when she felt she could wait no longer, he spoke.

  "Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water. The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide and great, the moon is reflected in a puddle of water but a single digit wide. The whole moon and the evening sky are reflected in one dewdrop sitting quietly on a single blade of grass in the morning.

  "We seek but enlightenment. To learn the truth. We make no judgments about truth. There is no good or bad in truth, it just is." He shook his head at her. "You, princess, are not truth. You are a lie."

  She started to get up, but he held up his hand. She felt as if a blanket had been wrapped around her that bound her in place. She struggled but was unable to move. Two monks came, lifted her off the cushion, and carried her into the next room, where they laid her out on her back on a large marble dais. She struggled again but still was unable to move her arms and legs.

  "What are you doing? I demand you release me!"

  Kour leaned down to her and whispered in her ear, "We are going to release the truth." He placed his hand over her mouth. When he removed it, she was no longer able to speak.

  "Have you called the holy one?" Kour asked.

  Tormu stood next to Kour. He nodded. "He comes.

  "Forgive my immodesty," Tormu said. In his hand, he held a ceremonial knife. The blade gleamed silver, the handle was made of ivory and fashioned in the likeness of a dragon's head with the wings forming the guard. He grasped her arm, slid the knife beneath her sleeve, and cut through the cloth, leaving her exposed. He worked quickly, slicing through her garments, pulling the remnants from beneath her and dropping them to the floor.

  The marble dais felt cold on her skin as she lay there defenseless. She struggled, trying to escape, fearing the sudden plunge of the knife into her heart.

  Tormu leaned over and peered into her face. "Please don't struggle. This will be painful, but I assure you, it will be over quickly, and the memory of the pain will fade in time."

  He started with her feet, cutting a thin line along the top of both of them, leaving a small trail of blood behind. She could feel it trickling down her body as he cut. He worked his way up each leg and made a series of cuts across her belly. He drew the knife up her stomach and between her breasts, leaving a thin trail of blood as he went. The cuts hurt like fire, but she was helpless to cry out or escape the pain.

  She heard a screeching sound and tried to see what had made it, but could only see the ceiling above her. She felt the touch of claws on her feet, followed by the caress of soft downy fur. The screech repeated itself, but this time it was followed by a low soft voice.

  "I am Kal'ryni," it said. "I have come to free you. No longer will you be under the control of another."

  The princess struggled but was unable to move or cry out. What was this creature going to do to her as she lay there exposed and helpless?

  All around her, a sound erupted. It sounded as if there were dozens of monks gathered in the room, humming a short phrase that lasted only a few bars and then repeated itself. As they droned on, she smelled the scent of rotten eggs followed by a burst of heat. The creature was going to burn her alive.

  She struggled all the more, but it did no good. She felt the flames lick at her feet and legs. She could feel the skin peel back along the lines the monk had cut. The burned skin separated and curled back, exposing raw flesh beneath.

  She wanted to cry out, to scream at the beast to stop, to threaten the priests, but the pain was so great that she could only scream, and her screams caught in her throat, making no sound at all. She wept silently as the pain moved up her legs and onto her belly. As the pain seared along her chest and down her arms, she was sure death would follow shortly, but it did not.

  She felt claws sink into her stomach and chest as the mini dragon clamored across her burned and bleeding body. The beast leaned in closer and looked into her eyes. "Are you ready to be set free?"

  Her heart raced at its words. Surely, this was it. The beast drew back its head and inhaled. She could feel the fire as it burst from the mini dragon and washed over her face. Her skin blistered and bubbled in pain as she tried in vain to cry out.

  The princess awoke in a large comfortable bed. Birds sang outside the window as the sun streamed in on her. It was warm in the light, but still chilly in the shadows. She sat up and looked down at her skin, recalling the dream of fire and knives and monks.

  She ran a hand along her arm, recalling the cuts and seared flesh, and shuddered at the memory of it. She thought it must have been a dream, but it was so real, so fresh in her mind.

  There was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal an old man in orange robes. His head was shaved, and he walked slowly, leaning on a staff. He shuffled over to the bed and took a seat on the foot of it.

  Ukina pulled the covers up to her neck. "Who are you and why are you here, in my bedchamber?"

  "Your bedchamber?" He looked slowly around the room, then back at her.

  She scanned the room quickly. She was not in her bedchamber. It was a strange room. "Where am I? This is not my bedchamber."

  "Just so." The old man sat there watching her as she took it all in. What was this place? How did she get here? She just stared at the old man, waiting for an explanation.

  "I see we were successful. No more falsehood shrouds you. You are now truth."

  She gulped. "What happened? How did I get here?"

  "You were bewitched. You have been under a binding spell that we were barely able to break. You are in Mistwind. You are safe."

  "How did I get here?" The princess was confused. She vaguely recalled a wizard and a dragon, but little else.

  "Mostly, you walked." The old man laughed at his own jest. "We will explain everything soon. Do you feel well enough to eat?"

  She shook her head.

  "Come, now. You need to eat, and then we have more work to do. You have some memories to retrieve before you return to your father." He stood up and turned his back. "Can you dress yourself or should I send in a maid?"

  The princess saw a neat pile of travel clothes on the chair next to the bed. "I can dress myself."

  "I will await you outside."

  "Who are you?"

  The old monk paused at the doorway and turned back to her. "I am Kour," he said. "I will take you home." He closed the door softly behind him.

  She dressed quickly and found him waiting for her outside her door. He explained that she had been under a spell and traveling with a wizard. They had parted ways, and now she was on her way home.

  After the meal, he guided her to a chamber where there was a large marble dais. He asked her to hop up on it so he could help awaken her memories. She felt vaguely afraid but couldn't say why. Something from her strange dream lingered in the back of her mind.

  "It will be well." He gently guided her onto her back. "Relax. This will not hurt."

  She shuddered as he passed his hands over her. He hummed a phrase over and over again and spoke to her quietly. Her eyes grew heavy and she started to relax. She could smell flowers, off, in the distance, but growing stronger. Soon she was asleep and dreaming, but the dreams were strange. She was in the company of a wizard. A young man, about her own age. She was trying to convince him to take her along as his companion. She dreamed of a young woman who was a sorceress and how she had handed this woman over to the temple priests.

  As the dreams progressed, she became more and more embarrassed by her actions until she could bear it no more. She jerked awake and sat up in a cold sweat. She looked over to see Kour standing next to her.

  "That was real, wasn't it?" She remembered it all. How she had tricked Chihon and how she had tried to fool Lorit. She remembered each and eve
ry moment of their time together. She hung her head in shame. "What have I done?"

  "You have done nothing." Kour helped her off the dais and onto her feet.

  "Why did you free me?"

  "Because you are important to us. The dragon informs us that you must hurry to Veldwaite."

  Chapter 16

  Rotiaqua sat behind Zhimosom's desk. She lit the ceremonial candles with a flick of her finger. She reached out and traced a path for the wax as it dripped down and across one of the skulls. It comforted her to imitate Zhimosom's behavior. The small things meant a lot to her.

  She waited a few moments while the council gathered. Each wizard appeared in his usual spot around the table.

  "Thank you all for coming. I know this was short notice. We have a serious problem on our hands." She searched the assembled faces for any comment or hesitation.

  When no one spoke, she continued. "As you know, Lorit and Chihon have been plagued by a wizard that we have yet to identify. Earlier this moon, they were put at risk by a storm at sea. They should have been safe. I viewed the weather before they left port.

  "There was nothing in their path but fair seas and a following wind. A freak storm rose up and almost sank their ship. Lorit and Chihon were able to preserve it, and through sheer force of will, keep it from being torn to shreds in the storm.

  "Unfortunately, several other ships were not so lucky. Seven ships were lost." She paused to give that time to sink in.

  "Who could have raised a storm like that?" Neussul asked. "It would take a talented and powerful wizard. Did this come from the temple? Is Sulrad behind this? He's the only one in the temple who comes close to that kind of power."

  Rotiaqua waited for any further response. When none came, she started to reveal what she had divined. "It was a powerful wizard, not just the temple. I believe it is the same wizard that Zhimosom went to confront."

  The sorceress pulled at her robe and sat on the edge of the table. She was tired and wanted to convey her distress by breaking out of the usual formalities.