Image 003 appears to be a staff like image 002, except this one is noted as being blue. This staff appears to double as an offensive weapon of some kind, as it has sharp edges on the top. Most magi only wield their staves as range weapons that fire mage bolts or use them to block attacks. Although Grandmaster Vydor has been known to knock the odd sorcerer upside the head with his. This image also has a note with it:
“The crescent moon was a very powerful symbol among the ancients, and greatly feared. It was believed that the one who bore this mark could master the night and bring the very sky down upon his enemies. In the natural environment, a magus with the power of the crescent moon would be a terrifying enemy indeed.”
Image 004 continues with her theme of drawing staves. This one is noted as being yellow. It has many more notes on the image itself, and some of the notes seem to indicate that Zylyn might have had communications with the owner of this staff. If these staves really belong to the Seven, that would be a very disturbing possibility to consider. Was she one of their contacts in this realm? Did she help them make their comeback? The note she included with this one is not much help:
“I see a yellow staff as clearly in my mind as the hand in front of my face. The staff is swinging back and forth, as if fighting something off. Around it are flashes of color: red, blue, purple, and others. I sense fear and disgust. The staff wants to get away, but it is trapped. Crying. Hiding. Scared.”
Image 005 appears to be a terramancer’s staff. Zylyn includes the note “earth wielding” on the image, which I take to be her name for a terramancer. The staff appears to have a spiral symbol of some kind on it. Perhaps it is a shell from some sea creature? Why would a terramancer have a shell on his staff? Why does Zylyn call it the second strongest? I suppose we will find out more as we continue to dig. The note she has with this one is unreadable, but is the longest of all the notes. I can only pick out a few select phrases from the full page of text:
“ … trees everywhere … attacking … wait, there is ... smoke … water … beast from the … but why must I?”
Image 006 may be the purple referred to in image 002. The notes on the image itself seem to indicate that it is. If so, that could mean all the staves in this section of her notes belong to one group of magi. Since there are seven of them, that would strengthen the suspicion that they are in fact the seven ancient sorcerers. Zylyn noted this one is “spirit,” which could mean this staff belongs to a necromancer. Another note on this image speaks of getting into people’s heads, which would make me think that this necromancer also possesses the skills of a psyonic. That indeed would be a scary and dangerous combination. The note with this image is brief and baffling:
“In the depths of the tunnel, there was a beam of purple light: not royal purple like a king, but rotting purple like dead flesh that has been left out too long. The stench alone made a grown man wish for death.”
Image 007 is very odd. It seems as if Zylyn might not have had a very good understanding of what she was looking at. She has this one labeled “metal,” but there is no known line of power that is focused on metal. Another note in the image mentions the “ability to bend and manipulate metal,” so perhaps this is another psyonic? The note attached to it seems to be in a more fearful tone than the other notes. I suspect she is being plagued by something:
“Last night, a pewter creature visited me, and all the metal in the room seemed to bend towards it. It laughed with a cackle that shook me to my core. I tried to run, but the very metal bars that should have kept it away from me leapt from their place and bound me to the wall. Try as I could, I could not escape…”
The note ends there. She obviously did escape, but there is no record of how or of what the creature was.
Image 008 speaks of a wooden staff and someone who is “strongest in the wielding of wood.” This one has me completely baffled. There is no power line known to have any specific affinity to wood, and there is nothing in the image to give a hint as to what else this might be. Maybe this magus just liked nature and the outdoors? It seems hard to envision a sorcerer, if indeed these do belong to the infamous seven, liking anything natural. There was no note with this one, so it will remain a mystery for now. I hold out hope that as I spend more days in her notes, I will find clues to images like this one.
Image 009 through image 014 appear to be the same as the statues of the six creatures that held up the table which the Seven used to store the life energy they stole in order to prepare for their return. She has them collected together, suggesting she knew they were connected somehow, and the note seems to indicate they are real creatures. In several of the comments on the images so far, she mentions “last night” for seeing what is in the images, so I assume this collection of slides spans some unknown period of time, even though she has grouped them. She has one, and only one, note for this group of creatures:
“They came again last night. I was pacing the long wall in my cell when they came. The first thing I noticed was the smell: burning sulfur. The scent was so powerful it made my eyes sting and water long before they arrived. I wanted to curl up and hide, but my bare cell offered no sanctuary. As they approached, there was a blast of overwhelming heat, such that I was sure my very skin was on fire. I screamed and begged for mercy, but to no avail. They tormented me with their claws and their laughter. It is not possible I could have survived even one night with them; I must already be dead. What crime in life could I have committed to possibly deserve this?”
That is enough for today. I may have nightmares from what I have read already. It is hard to say at this point whether Zylyn was insane, or brilliant. There are still too many unanswered questions.
STARTING AT ZERO
CHAPTER 1
“COME ON, ZERO! Not afraid, are you?” shouted Ryn.
Our ball was stuck high in a tree. The tree was broad and could probably support my weight, but the ball was so high up that it was hard to see. How had it gotten to that height?
I had the ball in my hands, safe and sound, and was about to throw it back to the older boys when a bird swooped down and stole it. The creature soared into the air and wedged the ball into the crook of a tree, then swooped around and around, laughing at me.
“Oh, forget it; he’s too scared!” said someone else.
“Maybe he wants to run home and get his brother’s help!” jeered another boy.
I shook my head to clear the daydream and approached the tree. “Fine!” Of course, no bird had taken it. Dung-headed Ryn had kicked it up there when another boy had bet him he couldn’t kick it over the tree. Since I was the smallest and weakest of the group, it was decided that I’d go up. As always, they hadn’t asked my opinion of this decision, since that was of no interest to anyone.
The lowest branches were an easy leap. As I pulled myself up the tree, I saw a small mammal higher up. It was gray, with a big, bushy tail. It seemed to dance its way up the tree, daring me to follow, and I gave chase. I was determined not to let it get away from me. I might be smaller than the other kids, but I could surely beat this rodent!
It quickly lost me, and in my pursuit, I lost track of the ball. I couldn’t even do that much right.
“I can’t see the ball! Where is it?” I called out.
“The other side of the tree from you, and a bit higher!” was the reply from below. It sounded very far away.
I dared not look down while working my way around the tree to the other side. Sure enough, there was the ball, just out of reach. With a sigh, I climbed up a few more branches. As I reached for the ball, a loud crack resounded through the air.
This was not good. I risked a look downward, realizing the ground was too far away to jump, much too far.
CRACK!
With a second crack, the tree began to tilt.
CRACK!
With a final crack, it began to fall. The ground started rushing towards me, and I knew I was in trouble. As fast as I could, I scrambled around the tree to the side farthest from th
e upcoming ground. It was at a steep angle, enough to get my feet under me as I rode it down.
Just as the tree was about to hit the ground, I leapt from it, pushing hard with my legs, soaring clear and landing in a perfect dive roll to come up on my feet. The kids all cheered, and for a moment, I felt like a king.
At least, that’s what I meant to do and what should have happened. I did jump and attempt to roll, but the landing involved bouncing, sliding, and scraping rather than any kind of graceful maneuver. Nor was there any cheering, just cries of alarm.
“Zero!” someone called as my friends came rushing over.
“Are you all right?” asked Ryn. He was about my age but at least a hand’s breadth taller, if not two. Everyone was taller than me, the runt, the adopted son of a blacksmith.
“Yeah,” I lied. I felt woozy, and my leg screamed with pain when I tried to stand up.
“You don’t look it,” he said. I was sure there was genuine concern in his voice. At least, I wanted to believe that and decided it was true.
I shook my head to clear it, but that just made things worse and the ground rushed up to meet me. Why did it do that?
“We’d better take him to the healer,” said a female voice, probably Rose; she was the logical one. I couldn’t make my eyes focus to be sure. There was a persistent ringing in my ears, too, so it was hard to guess who was speaking.
“I’ll be fine,” I said and winced as I heard the slur in my words. I tried to stand up, but the world wouldn’t stay steady, and I fell again. This time, someone caught me.
“I’ll carry him. Run ahead and tell the healer we’re coming,” someone said in a deep voice I couldn’t place.
“Hang in there, Zero,” a soft voice added.
The world was moving around me in a strange way and was far too bright. I couldn’t focus my thoughts, and my stomach felt ready to rebel.
“Where am I?” I couldn’t remember how I had gotten to wherever I was. It was too bright to tell, and my mind felt sluggish. Had I just woken up? When was breakfast?
“Easy now, we’re almost there,” said the owner of the deep voice. Was it my father?
“Dad? Mom? I can’t see!” My voice wasn’t working right. I couldn’t even understand my own words, so how would anyone else?
“Lay him down over there,” came a familiar voice. “What happened?”
“He was climbing a tree, and it fell. He jumped clear, but I think he hit his head.”
“Go and fetch his parents, and the rest of you get out. I need room to work,” said the owner of the voice, who sounded older. I felt I knew him, but it was hard to think through the fog in my head.
Time passed, or seemed to. Everything went dark for a while, then the light in the room slowly returned. My mind cleared, and the room settled around me.
I was in the healer’s hut.
As my mind cleared, memory flowed back. I must have been hurt when the tree fell, and Ryn had carried me here.
I started to sit up, then someone called, “Not yet, son.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied and lay back down.
My head hurt, and most of my body was sore, but it was bearable now. The healer must have worked his magic on me again. Was this the tenth time he’d had to treat me or the eleventh? Well, at least I was keeping him in practice.
“Now, how did you end up here this time?” asked Healer Tanyl.
“Our ball was in a tree, and I climbed up to fetch it, but the tree came down when I reached the top.”
“Well, at least this time your story matches your friends’,” he grumbled.
I could hear him banging around the shop but couldn’t see him. He was probably cleaning up after working on me. I knew much of what he did, but I had yet to discover how he worked his magic. He always sent me away when he used it on others, and I’d never been in any condition to pay attention when he’d used it on me.
“I’ve used most of my remaining wormsroot on you,” he said.
“I’ll get you some more,” I offered.
“No need,” he said, moving away to work elsewhere.
CHAPTER 2
Even with the healer’s magic, it was a full week before I could move about without getting dizzy. Ryn and the others had lots of fun with that, once they knew I was going to be okay. Ryn and Rose had rushed to my side when I was hurt, though, and that showed they did care about me.
My father was a blacksmith, and my older brothers helped him in the forge but not me. I was the runt of the family, too small, too weak and too late. Most days I was ignored, but sometimes I was sent on errands too trivial for the others. Today was one of the days when I had no jobs to do, so I headed for the healer’s hut.
“Did you fall again?” Healer Tanyl asked as I entered. He was bending over, using a mortar and pestle to grind up a reagent. By the scent, I was sure it was fronseweed. The bittersweet smell filled the room and reminded me of the many days I had sat and watched him when I was younger. He never paid me much heed, no one did, but I had studied him. For over a decade I had studied everything he did, everything he read, and everything he said. I was as ready as I would ever be.
“No, I just wanted to see if I could help you,” I responded.
He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. “How can you help?”
“You’re grinding fronseweed. It’s a root found in the marsh where the drier land meets the mud. The flower is yellow with a white pistil. It’s used in mixtures to dull the senses.”
His eyes widened. He lifted a jar from the table and said, “And this?”
“Buckwart, found in tropical regions growing on the shaded side of trees. It’s used to sweeten drinks and often to make medicine taste better.”
He repeated the exercise a dozen times, then stopped and asked, “How do you know all this?”
“I’ve been studying you for years,” I told him. It was more than that. I had taken careful note of all the reagents that he used on a regular basis, and memorized all the facts I could find about them. My mom had even gotten me a copy of one of the books I’d seen Healer Tanyl using for reference. I had studied that book for several years in preparation for this day.
“Why?”
I sighed. I’d been right: he’d never noticed me. So much for that dream. “I was hoping that one day you would ask me to be your apprentice.”
He shook his head and returned to his grinding, working in silence for a while. Then, just as I had decided to give up and go home, he gestured to the cabinet where he kept the reagents he used regularly. “Organize that for me.”
I walked over to the cabinet, which was in a terrible state. Most of the jars were open, none were labeled, and many were stacked so hazardously that I was afraid even to breathe near them.
I almost asked him what had happened in here, since it wasn’t like him to be so careless, but thought better of it. Unsure where to start, I took everything out of the cabinet and organized it on a nearby table. Seeing a rag, I wiped down the shelves and then put the jars back in, grouped first by how they were used and then alphabetically by name.
As I finished, he came over and looked at my handiwork. “Huh. You do know a lot about these reagents.”
“You’re a bit low on sulfur, wormsroot, and mandrake,” I noted.
“The caravan will be in town tomorrow, and I can buy more,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Do you really want to be my apprentice?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” He eyed the cabinet and looked back at me. “What do you get if you take the dust of black pearl and firestone and mix with a sulfur suspension?”
“A very stinky explosion,” I said.
“Huh.”
He looked back over at the cabinet. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Very much so,” I replied.
“Huh.”
He was quiet for a time and then looked at me. “There’s more than head knowledge to this.”
“Teach me, then,” I said.
“Do you know where to find wormsroot?”
I nodded. “It only grows in Timiren’s Valley. It must be harvested by the full moon or it will lose its potency.”
He pulled down another jar from the cabinet. “And this?”
I looked at it and almost snapped off the answer, but something held me back. I rocked it back and forth in my hand, watching the grains pass over each other. It looked right and smelled right, but there was something wrong.
“Stumped?” he asked.
“No, it’s wormsroot, but there’s something wrong with it.”
“And that is?” His voice held a note of surprise. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“I’m not sure. It looks and smells right, but there’s something the matter with it.”
He took the jar and replaced the top. “It was harvested under the new moon and is therefore worthless.”
“Then why do you have it?” I asked.
“It’s safe to consume but tastes foul, so makes a good placebo,” he said with a grin. He grew serious again. “But you could tell. How?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you’re finally at a loss for an answer?”
“I guess so.”
“Huh.”
He searched another cabinet and came out with a scroll, which he spread out on the table. It was a chart of the cycles of the moon for the rest of the year.
“This cost me a week’s earnings, so be careful with it. I want you to make an exact copy. Be careful to get everything right.”
I could read, but I was doubtful about my ability to perform this task. I hadn’t written very much in my life; the need hadn’t arisen. I wanted this position as his apprentice, however. It was that or a life as a useless runt in a house of blacksmiths.
Glimpses Page 7
