Michael followed him. The staircase was narrow, maybe five feet wide, and the steps were quite steep. He placed his hand against the wall as he descended. There was a light globe at the top of the stairs, and Michael could see light ahead of Merric. He supposed there had to be another globe down at the bottom as well. They went down a bunch of steps. For some reason, Michael started counting them when he began the descent. When they came to a landing, Michael could see the light globe on a blank wall in front of them. It couldn’t be a dead end, so he figured there was a trick involved. He had counted sixty steps and, looking back, he figured that each step was almost a foot tall so they were about sixty feet underground.
"You weren’t kidding when you said it was built away from the noise of the castle. You probably couldn’t hear a bomb going off in the dining hall from here."
"It is isolated. There are a few more of these rooms around. They were mostly used for meditation in the old days. The castle is so empty now that they are no longer needed if peace and quiet is all you are looking for. Now, to get into the chamber requires a bit of magic. As you can see there is no door."
"I noticed that."
"The spell is simple. You merely concentrate on opening a passage through the wall ahead and say, Patefacio obduco via. I will stand aside and let you give it a try." Merric pressed himself over against the side wall to give Michael room to stand in front of the wall that would give them access to the scrying room.
"Ok, think about a passageway through the wall." Michael stared at the wall and repeated the phrase Merric told him.
"Patefacio obduco via." He felt the familiar breeze blowing through his mind that always accompanied a use of magic, and the wall before him grew dim and faded away, leaving an opening into a dimly lit chamber. Michael looked over at Merric.
"Go on in, it is safe," Merric assured him.
Michael walked forward and could see a polished stone pedestal in the center of the room. It was four feet high and looked to be about three feet in diameter. What little light there was in the room seemed to be coming from it. He felt Merric brush passed him on the right and followed him up to the pedestal. When he got closer to it, Michael saw that the dish at its top was filled with a silverish liquid that reflected his image as he peered down at it. The liquid was also the source of the light. Merric let him study the basin for a few seconds.
"This is a scrying basin. We use a reflective liquid that is magically conductive, but just about any reflective surface can be used. You do want something relatively flat, and silver tends to work best. Mirrors also work well, as you have already discovered."
Michael studied the liquid. Its surface was completely flat, except around the edges, where it curved down slightly, giving it a convex appearance. He frowned.
"This looks like mercury."
"We call it Seeing Silver. I am not exactly sure where it comes from, but there is a volume on its creation in the research library. I was never much interested in its source, only its use. I do know that it is poisonous in its natural state, yet it is rendered safe by the process which it undergoes to become true Seeing Silver."
"Aye, if it is mercury, it is definitely poisonous. If you can use a simple mirror, why go to all the effort to create a substance to do something that you can already accomplish without it?" Michael asked.
"I said that a mirror could be used, but it is not ideal. The Seeing Silver requires less effort, and focuses the magical energies much more efficiently. Think of it like this; would you rather dig a whole with a stick or with a shovel? Either can do the job, but one requires less effort than the other and is much more suited to the job," Merric explained.
"I see your point. So this Seeing Silver was created to make the job easier. How does it work?"
"The spell is simple, but the mindset is really important. You have to know what you are looking for. The less specific information you have, the more general information you will need. Let us say you are looking for Mieka. You know her personally. You know what she looks like and that she is likely to be here in Kantwell. You would focus your mind on her, look into the basin, and say ostendo."
"That means reveal, doesn’t it?" Michael asked as he turned his eyes to the basin. To his surprise, he saw Mieka standing in the hallway outside the main classroom. She was talking to Mathis.
"Is there a way to hear what they are saying?"
"No. Scrying only gives you a picture, and yes ostendo means reveal or to show." Merric let his concentration lax, and the image faded, leaving the basin looking like a mirror again.
"Now, let us say you are looking for a Swiftclaw. You know Drakkin, but he is not the one you are looking for. You are looking for a female. You have no idea where to look since they reside all over Thelona. So you picture the image of a female Swiftclaw, knowing that they only differ from the males by having a brilliant blue crest on the top of their heads. You focus on the Seeing Silver and say again, ostendo."
Michael watched the basin turn black, and he had the impression of movement. He began to be able to pick out trees moving passed as the blurry image came into focus. The view became a rushing scene of a tree line leading up to a mountain. As it clarified even more, he saw a waterfall cascading down the sheer face of a cliff. On a ledge, high up on the cliff, off to the left of the waterfall, the image came to a halt. Michael could see a Swiftclaw laying on what looked like a pile of pine branches that had been fashioned into a nest. As he watched, her head shot up, and he could see under her neck, she sheltered a small gray egg. Then Michael saw another of the little winged creatures appear in front of her carrying a dead rabbit in its front claws. This one did not have the little blue crest, so Michael assumed it was her mate. The little male dropped the rabbit in front of her and pushed it towards her. The scene ended and the Seeing Silver returned to its reflective state.
"As you can see, when you do not know specifics, it can get to be an involved process. That did not take too long because I know the nesting sites of the Swiftclaws; and that is where the majority of the females are often found. Your lack of specific knowledge would have forced you to search for a long time to locate one. The longer you search the more energy it requires. Once you have found what you are searching for, the energy drain drops. Maintaining concentration on something requires much less effort than the searching does. Do you think you are ready to give it a try?"
"Aye, what should I look for?"
"Let’s try something familiar first, like Martin. Try to scry on him. Once you successfully accomplish that, we can go on to something more difficult."
"Ok." Michael focused on the basin and brought forth a mental image of Martin.
"Ostendo," he called out softly. He felt the breeze again, thinking he should ask Merric if that was something he always felt when casting a spell as well. The basin went black, but he did not see Martin. Michael realized he had been distracted by the thought of the breeze and focused his mind once again on the image of Martin. The basin rapidly cleared, and he saw Martin sitting in the classroom. He was fiddling with his sash, running his fingers over the end where there were now two black stripes instead of one. He still had a very satisfied smile on his face.
"Very good, but it seemed like it took you some effort to focus in on him," Merric pointed out.
Michael let his concentration slip and the image faded.
"I got distracted. I need to ask you a question."
"Sure, Michael."
"When you cast a spell, is there any type of feeling you get with it?"
"Explain what you mean."
"Well for example, every time I cast a spell, I get the impression of a wind blowing through my mind. Sometimes it is subtle, and sometimes it’s strong. It is not physical, but more like a mental suggestion. Does that make any sense to you?"
Merric looked at him quizzically.
"I understand what you are trying to say but, no, that never happens to me. You say you get this feeling every time you cast a spell?"
<
br /> "Aye, every single time."
"If it is a distraction, it could be very bad," Merric said with concern.
"It is not a distraction. It is actually quite pleasant. I was only distracted this time because I thought to ask you about it," Michael explained.
"Then I do not know what it could mean. I have never heard of such a thing before."
"I’m no worse off than before. I just figured I should ask."
"I am glad that you did. I am sorry I do not have an answer for you."
"That’s ok. I think there are going to be a lot of questions I may never get answered."
"Getting back to scrying, how about we try again? This time I want you to search for something unknown. That will familiarize you with the level of energy required to make a blind search."
"Ok. Let me think…oh, how about searching for a dwarf? Micah told me a little bit about them when we first met, and I have wanted to see one for myself."
Merric chuckled at Michael's enthusiasm.
"That is an excellent choice. You have never seen one before, so you will have only a vague idea of what they look like. Excellent choice indeed," Merric said with a smile.
Michael turned his attention back to the basin. He drew from memory all he could recall about what Micah told him, and what he thought a dwarf should look like. Short, stocky, and wielding a battle axe. Holding that image in his mind, Michael cast the scrying spell once more.
"Ostendo."
The basin turned black, and Michael concentrated harder. He saw grassland and trees rushing by to be replaced by grasslands again, and then a desert. Mountains sprang up in the distance, and he could see a cleft between two of them. Merric, watching, recognized the cleft as the pass in the Anvil’s TeethMountains known as The Slot. It connected the BarrierDesert on the edge of Branna with the Glimmen Marsh. As he continued to watch, Michael’s search took him straight to The Slot and through to its far side.
Merric saw the men of Branna engaged in a fierce battle with a large force of Weres. The dead and wounded of both sides lay everywhere. Michael’s focus drew the scene to a blonde haired dwarf holding an axe in each hand. He wielded them with deadly efficiency. His black chainmail was rent in several places, but the fierce determination in his eyes showed that the wounds did not bother him. The Weres were coming at him in what seemed a never ending barrage. The scene drew back, and he could see a young dwarf in a gray tunic, a healer by his dress, kneeling down beside a huge human. He had his hands placed on the man’s neck, and two dwarves stood around him shielding him from the battle. Merric wanted to focus in on them, but Michael was controlling the view. The young dwarf removed his hands, and the human sat up with a look of awe on his face. He grabbed a gigantic sword that had lain at his side and, patting the young dwarf on the shoulder, rose and charged back into the fray.
The view focused in on the young dwarf. Merric could see that, as the dwarf got to his feet, he was barely able to stand. His face was ashen with fatigue. Suddenly, one of the dwarves guarding him went down, and a huge bear lunged in and knocked the young dwarf from his feet. Merric heard Michael yell out.
"NO! Tranfero mihi ut pugna."
"No! Michael you must not…" Merric began, but the basin returned to normal, and Michael was gone. Merric quickly cast the same spell and vanished from the room.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The battle had been raging since before sunrise. They had been fighting minor skirmishes over the past few weeks, but this morning saw the first full scale battle. The Weres poured into the pass as the sun was beginning to lighten the sky. Now Dain was exhausted. He had been working nonstop for hours. He had managed to save all but one that he aided, and that one had been too severely wounded. If he had gotten to him faster, it might have turned out different, but he had not. Dain felt the man’s soul depart just as he began the healing process. Dain closed the sightless, staring eyes, and moved on to the next one who needed his help. There was no time to spare for mourning. The wounded were everywhere, and he could not keep up as it was. Dain had grown numb to the sights and sounds around him and merely stumbled from one injured warrior to the next, letting his gift guide him to the ones who needed him the most.
That was how he found Captain Hamil. He had just finished healing a dwarf who suffered a crushed skull, when he felt the pull behind him. Luckily, Captain Hamil fell only a few feet away from Dain. His left jugular had been brutally torn open, and he was holding his neck tightly as he lay on the ground. Dain closed the distance quickly and immediately covered the big man’s hand with his own. He opened to the wound, the pain of which was hardly even evident, and quickly the blood flow stopped and the wound closed. Dain tried to focus his eyes, but he was nearly at his limits. He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the man say something, but could not make his senses perform the way they should. Then the man was suddenly gone.
Dain felt the pull again so he rose shakily to his feet, determined he would work until he passed out. He heard Pace cry out and was suddenly knocked from his feet. He felt like he had been hit by a hammer on his right side. Dain felt his ribs break from the impact, and he turned so that he would not fall on his injured side. Dain knew that he was going to die. There were none close enough to aid him except the wounded, and they needed his help. He still had too many men to heal to die. He rolled with the fall and tried to come back up on his feet. He was only partially successful. He was able to get his right foot underneath himself and rise up on his left knee. Dain pulled the dagger Pace had given him from his belt and tried to focus on his attacker. He saw that it was a huge, brown bear, teeth and claws covered in blood and gore. The bear roared at him and started to charge. In the next instant, there was a man standing between him and the bear. He heard the man yell out something, and the bear vanished.
Dain regarded the man’s back for a few heartbeats. He was dressed in gray robes with a blue sash and had brown hair. That was all Dain could tell from where he stood. All he needed to know was that the man had saved his life, and others needed him to save theirs. He tried to get fully to his feet, but the pain from his broken ribs nearly made him swoon. He felt a hand under his arm and heard Pace’s voice. He looked up to see the side of Pace’s face covered in blood. Dain reached up as Pace leaned down to help him up and covered the side of Pace's head with his hand. He stopped the bleeding, which was not life threatening, and then pointed off to the left.
"I am needed over there," Dain panted through clenched teeth.
Michael saw the young dwarf close the wound in the big man’s neck. He’s a healer! He saw one of the men guarding the young dwarf go down, and then a Were knocked the boy down. Anger flared white hot in his mind. Michael could not let them kill this boy. The boy had obviously given all he had to help those around him. The words came unbidden to his mind. Michael barked them out quickly and found himself standing nearly face to face with the big, brown bear. The bear reared back on its hind legs in surprise. Michael’s arrival had been unexpected to say the least. Seeing the blood covering its claws, Michael stared the bear in the eyes and spoke quietly.
"Funditas incinerate."
The bear instantly disappeared. Michael looked around. He saw the two dwarves who had been guarding the young healer leading him towards another injured dwarf. Michael saw how the two supported the young dwarf’s faltering steps. He flicked a thought towards the him and spoke another spell.
"Tribuo." He felt a flow of energy leave him and enter the young healer. Knowing that would help him, Michael turned back towards the battle. He quickly scanned the ground around him and saw a sword lying on the ground close by. Michael ran over and picked it up. It was a bit heavier than he was used to, but it would have to do.
Merric knew better than to appear in the midst of an ongoing battle, so he transported himself to a ledge about forty feet up the wall on the north side of the pass. From here he could see all that was transpiring on the ground below. Reek and Branik leapt to their feet and drew thei
r swords the instant they arrived. Merric spoke to them quickly to let them know he was the reason for the sudden change of scenery.
"Our young friend has done something impetuous."
Branik immediately started to scan the battle below them. He nudged Reek, pointing with his sword to the gray robed figure standing in front of a small group of dwarves gathered around a prone human about Branik’s size. Both of them moved to the edge of the ledge in preparation for climbing down.
Merric's voice stopped them.
"Hold!" He shouted so they could hear him above the sounds of combat.
"I will transport you down to him. I just did not want us arriving in the path of a swinging sword." Merric spoke a few words, and Reek and Branik were instantly transported to the spot Michael had just vacated. He watched Michael pick up a sword and swing it a few times.
"What does that boy think he is doing? He is going to get himself killed."
As Michael was swinging his sword around, a big tiger crouched and made a leap for him. Merric, knowing anything he did would be too late, hoped Branik and Reek would get to him in time. As he watched, Michael’s head snapped in the direction of the tiger. He hopped back and to his right and brought the sword down in a sweeping overhand arc. The tiger fell to the ground, its head continuing to roll further into the pass.
Michael looked around again. He saw Branik and Reek running up to him. Merric must have brought them. He motioned them forward with his sword, indicating the main knot of combat at the mouth of the pass. He saw them adjust their course to an intercept with his. He was headed for the blonde dwarf he had seen wielding the two axes. It appeared that he was the most sorely pressed, and something about him made Michael feel he was extremely important.
The Chronicles of the Myrkron: Book 01 - The Nine Keys of Magic Page 43
