Once in the trance, he had to first split his consciousness into two equal parts. He then extended a link from one of his to Vismorda's consciousness who was too preoccupied fending off the intense physical pressure to notice the subtle link. He then pushed one of the divided parts of his consciousness across the link seating it secretly within Vismorda's. Accomplishing this allowed his physical consciousness to join and become an extension of hers so he need not focus upon reacting to her, because he was her. Consequently, he was now free to focus upon Mordin and begin the intense mental confrontation in earnest.
The spikes Mordin had been employing were no doubt aimed at producing a pseudo-comfort within his opponent. They were simple expressions of the dark power, but when thrown with enough force they could have devastating effects. Until now, Mordin used these spikes in an unsuccessful attempt to distract Jesolin enough to allow Vismorda to gain the advantage. Yet now, having seen the advantage placed firmly in the grasp of their opponent, Mordin altered his strategy.
Knowing he could not get past the wall of mentally created bricks Jesolin perpetually erected by attempting to match strength against strength, he had to somehow drain the power of his shield. He sent out three spikes of moderate strength, except with these, he attached a tether so when they landed against the mental shield, they would "stick". He formed and launched the spikes in the exact same fashion as those untethered so Jesolin would not expect any difference in their intent. Success. When they landed, just as he had planned, though the spikes dissipated harmlessly, the tethers remained. With all but a whisper, he activated them to slowly drain the power of the shield, hopefully, subtly enough to avoid Jesolin's notice.
Had he not been in the Death Trance allowing him to focus almost entirely on Mordin's efforts, the necromancer's skilled attack would have probably been successful, at least for a little while. But as it stood, Jesolin was able to detect the subtlety of Mordin's tethers. Instead of severing them, which would have been the tactic of a lesser experienced and less patient opponent, he decided to reverse the flow of dark energy thereby directly draining Mordin's life force. Anytime one becomes connected to another through one of the numerous ways to link, it was always a two way dance. However, reversing the flow was not as easy as its establishment. As a requirement of the counter spell, he had to send a sufficient amount of extra energy through the link to find and reverse the draining element of the tether. To do this, he had to risk lessening the strength of his mental shield and replace it with a tether of his own.
As he lessened the substance of his shield, and before he could send a tether, Mordin extended a gasping claw of dark power aimed right at Jesolin's subconscious. If one could hold the subconscious, one could impart any thought into the consciousness. Had it not been for the effects of the Death Trance once again, Jesolin would not have noticed Mordin's deception in time to adequately thwart it. As much as Vismorda hand grown within her specifically expressed manifestation of the dark power, so too had Mordin. Jesolin could not help himself from forming a satisfied grin as he increased the power of his shield and severed the tether all together. Unfortunate was the opponent who faced Mordin while lacking in power or intelligence, for he was a master of both.
Jesolin remembered meeting Mordin, as he did with Vismorda, for the first time. But while he was left speechless with Vismorda's beauty, nothing visual stood out regarding Mordin. It was not until he wandered across a chance game of Krinock Gool between Mordin and Oolos that he began to see this less than average man as anything but. It was also during this chance encounter when he was first introduced to the deep seeded resentment Mordin carried toward Oolos; a resentment he would later exploit to set his master’s plans into motion and vault him into his current position of leadership.
Soon after regaining the majority of his strength under the direct care of Vismorda, and soon after the initial rush of interest in his story of being adopted by an esteemed and wealthy family who was ravaged by a pack of wolves on their journey back to his new home, he would find himself spending time wandering in the woods. He used wandering as his way of explaining, without suspicion, the long periods of isolated solitude wherein he would be called by the voice, his friend, into further meditation upon the dark fountain and all of its power. During this time, the voice came to him with instructions of how to focus on the fountain, draw in its dark liquid and manipulate it in several ways. It did not give him specific skills, but rather taught the growing vessel about the nature of the liquid and how to utilize it, apparently leaving the "what to utilize it as" firmly held within its control.
What is important for you, my little one, is not that you use the power to determine how best it will fit in a situation. You do not know enough about such things. You cannot know enough about such things. What is important for you is to know how to access the power, to gather it, manipulate it, and trust it to decide for itself how it should be expressed.
"I do not know what you mean," he said with eyes closed and will submitted.
That is because you cannot know what I mean. Remember the garrison of guards who were pursuing you after I lead you into freedom? Would it have been better if the power was displayed in the manner you intended? Do you not think I saw your intent? I know you would have summoned it and expressed it with the same effect, meaning the end result would have been identical; however, if I allowed that, your location would have been made known to another smaller party of scouts who were much closer to you, but hidden from your eyes. They would have seen you and ridden you down. Yet, because I struck through you and the amassed power you held within, you remained hidden, and the scouts who were close to you were forced to circle back and attempt to aid their companions. And you were able to go free.
"Will it always be like that? Will I never learn to really use the power?"
No little one who still worries. I will reveal all to you in time. But you are not strong enough for that yet; though you will be, in time, my precious little one.
After these intense periods of meditation and focus, he would always head back to his tent because they were both mentally and physically exhausting. Often times he would require several hours of uninterrupted sleep even if it was yet mid-day. It was on one of his return trips from the forest where he came across a large gathering of his new family arranged in a large circle. In the center of this circle was a table, two chairs placed directly opposing each other, and a game. Two men sat upon the chairs each staring at the game board adorned with several pieces. The game was Krinock Gool and the two men currently engaged in the intense mental contest were Mordin and Oolos.
The voice addressed him, I brought you out today for a larger lesson than to further your prowess in your mastery of the dark fountain. Watch and pay attention. Tell me what you learn.
They each picked up a small dice, shook it three times, and let it drop upon the board. When the dual roll had stopped, showing Oolos's as the larger amount, the throng of people gathered behind him, including Vismorda, erupted in cheer. Simultaneously, the smaller group gathered behind Mordin let out a collective exhalation with some minor groans mixed in. Jesolin leaned close to an elderly gypsy next to him and asked, "What was the large reaction for? Is the game over?"
The old man laughed slightly and returned with a response constructed out of a slight edge of annoyance, "The game has just begun! Have you never seen Krinock Gool played?"
"I am sorry, but I have not. What is it?" He said just as Oolos picked up the dice he first cast and threw it again after a short three pumps.
"It is a game of chance and not chance. It was created by the Ogre Princess Nirdoth as a gift to her then betrothed Prince Grikdhir. Both the princess and prince were from warring tribes of Ogres," he said as Oolos moved one of his pieces in a zig-zag motion on the board which produced a slight cheer from his side. The old man paused to wait for the din to subside and continued, "The tribes, having decimated each other's numbers, and hence their own, decided to unite und
er the blanket of marriage. Their numbers had grown so small that as separate tribes, they were fearful of being ravaged by the then increasing Goblin threat," At this time, Mordin picked up Oolos's dice, causing a huge and audible gasp from both sides of the gathered crowd. Again, the old man paused just long enough to let the noise end, "According to Ogre custom, it is required that the bride give the groom a unique gift. It is important that the gift be unique, because if it is not, then it is not judged sufficient to honor the newly formed couple and only strife will plague their union,"
Upon seeing Mordin's roll, his side erupted with applause causing Jesolin to jump from surprise. "Ah, what a gamble he took! And was successful!" said the elderly gypsy.
The exuberant ruckus and cheers continued for several minutes giving Jesolin the opportunity to further his questioning, "What do you mean 'chance'?" Jesolin asked.
"Well, the first role is extremely important and sets the pace for the rest of the game. Normally, it is very difficult to beat a skilled Gool player if he has won the first roll. And Oolos is skilled. His second roll allowed him to distance himself from Mordin's pieces meaning it would be even more difficult for Mordin to defensively set up a position in front of Oolos. Except and only on the first roll of the second player, if he beats the lead roll, provided the lead roll is used as a straight shot down the spiral, which Oolos did, he is able to reset the game and assume the first roll position. Because of Oolos's strong lead roll, he chose to play his first piece thus. Mordin beat his roll and will no doubt declare his advantage. A well-played, and well timed roll."
Mordin, however, did not yet play his piece. Instead he waited until the cheers had subsided, all the while never breaking contact with his brother's eyes. When enough time had passed to produce wonder on both sides as to why Mordin had still not played his obvious next move, Oolos spoke breaking the silence and contact between their wills, "What is it, Mordin? Play your move and give thanks to the Fates for the luck you enjoy."
Mordin seemed to be fixated on a point in space just beyond the board that sat contemplatively in front of him. He seemed to have drifted off to a place in his mind rendering all his surroundings moot. The only perceptible motion betraying his continued living was the slow and steady rising and falling of his chest as he took in stoic breath after stoic breath.
"Well, Little Brother, are you going to play or do I win because you cannot see the sense in continuing against a much better player?" taunted Oolos.
Then, just above the level of a whisper, Mordin spoke with a resounding confidence, "No Oolos. I will not move as you believe. I will not play to the Fates of Luck. But I will play, Brother of Mine. And I will win." The reverberating stillness from Mordin's declaration ended as he slowly picked up his first piece, signaling the beginning of the game in earnest.
The pace began slowly with each participant taking their time to study the board formations, the pieces that had already been played, the pieces that were left to play, and the endless possibilities still present in the early stages of the game. But as the game continued, the pace of both Mordin and Oolos increased as their options became more funneled. Toward the end, there was but moments between the alternating play of each. Moments that is, until Oolos, in the middle of his reach for one of his pieces, stopped and paused with his hand hovering slightly over the object of his intended move. Seconds passed, but those seconds seemed like minutes. He slowly drew his hand away, returning it to his side, and studied the board. Mordin, as always, remained steady and non-emotional, revealing nothing of his intention. Then, while offering the first sign of motion from either player, Oolos chuckled and spoke, "Shall I continue?"
"That decision, as with all decisions regarding your actions, is entirely up to you," returned Mordin, looking up to meet his brother's grin with one of his own.
"And what action are you referring to, Mordin?" Oolos responded with a distinct alteration of his voice revealing that of a blade's edge.
"Play," stated Mordin with much less edge to his word, but no less intense.
The resulting hush and holding of breath was similar to the moment right before the first charge or first arrow of a battle. The expectation was certain; all that remained was the action.
"Shall we 'play' today brother, as we did when we were young? Or should we 'play' today, as men. Well, maybe not men," he said with a snicker as he continued his insult, "But as boy and man!"
Instinctively hands found hilts and eyes found eyes. Everyone was at the ready with muscles tensed and targets acquired. Everyone, that is, except for Mordin, who remain seated calmly even though his brother was now standing and looking down upon him.
While meeting the gaze of the much more physically present man, Mordin placed his index finger upon the top of his innermost piece. In one motion he both stood up, and slowly toppled it. Pausing to stare into his brother's eyes, Mordin broke into a broad grin, "Congratulations Oolos. It appears you have bested me in Gool," he slightly inclined his head. "Though I do hope we have the chance to 'play' again."
Those gathered to support Mordin, as well as those supporting Oolos could not believe what they had just seen. On the verge of asserting his victory, Mordin simply quit. As he turned to walk away from the game board, Oolos yelled after him, "Brother! What has gotten into that mind of yours? Mordin! You have never walked away from a chance to beat me before, let alone a chance this advantageous!"
Stopping his strides and turning to his brother, Mordin calmly walked the distance separating them and sat back down at the field of his loss. He scooted his chair in as far as the table would allow and leaned in, silently bidding Oolos to do the same. To all others present, the conversation taking place remained silent, hidden behind whispers too faint to traverse the audible distance to their ears. But to Jesolin, with his power infused senses, it was clear and strong. This is what his friend had wanted him to hear.
"Oolos. Brother. To whom do you owe your victory against me?" Mordin asked with a hush, barely audible tone to his brother.
"I owe it to whatever foolishness consumed your overactive mind," said the elder of the two.
"Indeed. Are you saying that you owe your victory, and all the blessing as a result, to my mind, however foolish you perceive it to be?" asked Mordin.
"Mordin, why do you play at these riddles and whims?" Oolos said as he leaned in closer. "You have done so since you were a child and they still do you no favors among the others."
"Oolos, to whom do you owe your victory?" Mordin persisted.
Jesolin looked around to see if anyone else could hear what he was hearing, but seeing both sides of the crowd begin to dismiss from an unanticipated excitement, he gathered they could not.
"Mordin! It grows weary upon all of us. Why do you persist in these schemes?"
"Very well, Brother. Since you will not answer my question, I will answer yours. Perhaps you will gain a bit of understanding when I do. While you play for fame and fortune from your followers, I play for control. Yours is a game of pieces and puzzles, limited in its strategies and prizes. But mine is a game of lives and people, of position and perspective. And while you enjoy the greater sum of favor now, mine will come. So Brother, I play because my understanding runs deeper than how fast I can run, or how much I can lift, or even how many enemies I can kill with a blade. They say that the game of Gool is really just a metaphor for life. Understand that on this day, I held your fortune in the balance of my pieces. It was I who gave you your victory. So, while you believe you won, if life is truly measured by the substance of choice, then it was I who had the true victory; for I was the one with the choice. I had control, even over you."
Not waiting for his brother's response, he stood up again, bowed slowly and deeply, and walked just as slowly away. Just like the Great Ocean and the leviathans that swam underneath, there was indeed a leviathan beneath the calm and motionless surface of Mordin's deep emotions waiting to be released.
Through the proper tute
lage, Jesolin was able to harness, grow, and direct that leviathan to devastating purpose. And currently this purpose was focused completely on dismantling Jesolin himself. He had always instructed Vismorda and Mordin to release the full intent of their power upon him without worry or fear of retribution, though retribution always came. And though Mordin was acutely dedicated to him and only him, the Necromancer still relished in the idea of surpassing his instructor. But it was time to end the battle. Much was yet to be done today and seeing the progression of the shadow cloak in Vismorda, and the deceptive cunning within Mordin, Jesolin was satisfied.
Reaching into the fountain once again, he drew upon and drank from the liquid blackness now pulsing to be released. The pool of black, dark power was reactive to the intent it sensed within Jesolin. During the intense training periods, he felt the liquid was content at being utilized, but with no clear intent to end, it was more of a passive participant. However, each and every time it sensed his intent change from a sustaining to a finalizing motive, it became entirely active. It wanted to be used. It wanted to hurt. I needed to feel the joy of dominance expressed through dominating another. And so it lept into Jesolin.
Again, you have done well training them my son. Again you have earned this power and my pleasure. As your reward, follow my instructions and see the depth of all we can do together.
In that moment, though he was still continuing the actions of battle, all time stopped within his subconscious. He was barely aware of the physical world and all of its dogmatic traps. He longed to be completely submerged within the painful ecstasy of his master, but he felt his master leading him on a journey. Spiraling downward within the knowledge of himself, he came to rest upon the shores of a dark sandy beach. He was faintly aware of a growing presence off shore. Focusing his attention on the water itself, he saw that it was an ocean without an end to its horizon. Gently, the water lapped against the beach as it was being pushed by small waves. He saw the water again, but this time realized it was not water at all. His expectation of water being the second natural substance required to form a beach lead him to momentarily miss that the liquid was the same substance dwelling within the dark fountain.
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 41
