Talismans

by Lisa Lowell

  Finally at the cusp of spring Paleone was completed, the first of the sixteen palaces of the Wise Ones.

  “Can you seal it?” Owailion asked his wife after she called him back to inform him of the final details. He transitioned back to Paleone and they stood just outside the fortress walls, peering up into the stormy sky at the blue banner that snapped in the wind. “You have been more successful with seals than I have.”

  “Deep magic,” Raimi confirmed. “She said we had to ground it in the earth itself, not in ourselves. The roots of the earth can take the strain and blows that will descend on it.”

  Her words, as she set them to action, sent a shiver down Owailion's spine. This palace would indeed take blows and attacks. He might not have the gift of premonition but he knew to his deepest bones that Paleone would be assaulted.

  Nothing changed in Owailion's perception as he heard Raimi sigh with completion of that final task. “It is done,” she whispered.

  Accordingly Owailion reached out, almost touching the alabaster wall defending the courtyard, but his hand met an invisible resistance. “That is amazing, my love. You have a gift with this deep magic,” he murmured, fascinated how her magic had developed, so differently from his and just as powerful.

  “I have a gift with dams,” she corrected. “And dams can be broken. You know I don't feel that I…that all I touch will somehow go awry. Please do not trust that Paleone is safe.”

  Owailion looked from his wife to the spire again and noted that the banner no longer snaked across the late winter sky, now encased in a bubble of timelessness where even the sea wind could not reach it. “I trust you have done the best that can be done. It is enough.”

  Unfortunately that night they spent in a tent once again, since even they were sealed out of Paleone. Owailion had not expected to dream, for he had not found a new palace to build, but something stirred his mind and he paid attention. He found himself back again in Malornia, walking toward the church where Enok, his lost door steward had served. This time, instead of feeling merely unsafe, dozens of demons seemed to stalk him, passing through the shadows of the buildings around the square as he passed through the town. The trees and ivy lining the walls of the church teemed with crickets and bats that swelled and spoke in human voices that gave him shivers down his spine. In the dream Owailion was bound to make the doors of the church, hoping for sanctuary. He staggered on the slime of a hundred slug/fish demons coating the stairs and grasped at the door latch, swatting away the snakes that coiled around the knocker. With relief he wrenched the door open and slipped inside.

  The interior of the humble church felt cool, clean and dark, belying the light that streamed through its dirty windows, but Owailion felt safe from all the evil lurking outside. He let his eyes adjust to the new environment and looked around for Enok even though his sleeping mind knew that the priest was dead and would not be here.

  And yet, he was. The old man, wearing his threadbare robes slipped out of the shadows and greeted Owailion like a brother. “I'm glad you have come, King of Creating. It has been difficult to reach you.”

  “Reach me?” Owailion asked, suspecting a trick.

  “Yes,” replied the priest. “You know that I have been killed but I have one more message…something you must know. Your Lady's Talisman cannot warn you. She is in danger. The ones who killed me, they had been watching and…and they know.” Enok looked around in the shadows of the chamber as if he feared being overheard even in this dream.

  “They know what?” Owailion encouraged. “Who are you talking about?”

  Enok fixed his great gray eyes on him and then leaned close, with his hand around Owailion's arm like a vice. “Your Lady, the Queen of Rivers…they know her name. Please do not trust that she is safe.”

  Those had been almost the same words she had spoken at the sealing of Paleone. Owailion felt himself jolt awake with shock, but a word came out with his waking.

  “How?”

  Owailion could not force himself to fall back asleep, no matter how he tried, to find his answers. He lay awake for the remainder of the night, curled up against Raimi who slept on, oblivious to the horror her husband felt covering him, like all the demons that had stalked him to the church in his dream now had come to coat him in a cold slime of dread. Raimi was in danger.

  * * *

  Raimi also slept restlessly, but on the surface she barely stirred as she dreamed of water, but not of rivers or streams. Instead she drifted in the ocean, far from land. This did not distress her, but she could not remain there treading water, trying to see above the crests of the waves. Then she spied something to the south, coming out of the lowering sun. A ship.

  Without recourse, Raimi began to swim toward the distant vessel and with magically enhanced strokes she arrived at its gunwales in minutes. She did not ask permission, but latched on and pulled herself aboard. To her surprise she came over the rail in her royal gown, gold and river blue with copper, silver and gold lilies stitched all down the bodice and not a hair out of place under an ornate crown even though she swam all the leagues to arrive on an empty ship.

  She looked about the deck and up into the canvas sails, set to full and no one to tend them. The rigging creaked in the wind and the ship must have been making good time. Yet the wheel spun free, shifting with the current. With little understanding beyond her instincts, Raimi reached out and grasped the wayward wheel.

  “Thank you for coming, Raimi.”

  She whirled around and saw a simple man whose appearance tickled at a memory, perhaps from her forgotten past. He was short and somewhat rugged and simple, with dark eyes and an arrogant jutting jaw. Where had he come from? She would have noticed him approaching on this bare deck.

  “Who are you, sir?” she asked, feeling little fear, for this was just a dream.

  “You may call me Stylmach,” the man replied and then approached, putting his hand on the wheel opposite hers. Then he began to turn the wheel, heading east of the sun. “I have called you here to talk with me, Raimi. Tell me about yourself.”

  Something in Raimi's dream-self began writhing in alarm. This was wrong. She felt no fear of the stranger or the ship so far from land. No, her dread came from the realization that she wanted…no, needed to speak with this stranger. She could not place from where this urgency sprang but it bubbled up like water struck from stone with alarming thoroughness; a river began. She could not resist.

  “I know so little sir, but I…I am a pioneer of the Land. I do not know much else, for I came to the Land with amnesia.”

  “Really? You speak the truth, I see. Very well, tell me about the Land instead,” Stylmach insisted and then added, “Raimi, tell me all you know.”

  She felt her spine stiffen in alarm. She opened her mouth to scream herself awake, calling for Owailion but she felt her breath stolen and Stylmach's gloved hand reached toward her and carefully, caressingly curled around her throat, stealing her voice.

  “Raimi, you will not call for help. You will not perform any magic against me. Raimi, you will be mine and when you waken, you will forget everything that has transpired here in your dreams. I will be your master and you will do all that I command. Raimi, you will do this, won't you.”

  Frozen so she could not even pull away from his leathery grasp, she managed a single dry swallow before she whispered a single, fateful reply.

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  Owailion made breakfast over a campfire, conjuring only the barest needs; eggs and a frying pan. He stared at the flames, as if intent on his efforts but the fire hypnotized him and he almost burnt breakfast before Raimi stirred and he could stop. He barely looked at her for fear he would remember Enok's words every time she moved across his vision. She seemed distracted too so he did not disturb her and did not comment on her slow waking. He wanted only her peace and nurtured it.

  “Tamaar,” Raimi opened, as she took the plate Owailion passed to her. “I suppose I need to start work there.”
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br />   Now Owailion looked at Raimi more closely. The dark circles under her eyes and the lackluster voice worried him. She doubted herself too much, he knew, but now she seemed almost lethargic, or was that Enok's warning making him suspicious of every expression that passed across her sweet face. Was she tired or sick? Could a Wise One even get sick?

  Owailion shook off his worries and replied to her implied question. “Yes, and I want to give Tamaar something. I have a Talisman in need of a hiding place and this would be a perfect time. I made this horn a few weeks ago from a mountain goat blending with a tree and it needs a home. I'll give it to Tamaar and get her to let you in at the same time.”

  He pulled a twisted signal horn Talisman out of his pack and handed it over to Raimi. She slowly smiled at its polished beauty. No, he thought, she's just tired.

  “It looks like mother of pearl,” she commented in appreciation. “For whoever is the King or Queen of the Sea?”

  “Probably the sea.” Owailion was grateful for the distraction and so encouraged it. “Tamaar is a sea dragon so it makes sense….and she's Imzuli's mother. Maybe she'll have some insight into what we should do.”

  “Good,” Raimi added, sounding more resolute. “I also want to ask her about how she seals off her territory. She is better at it if she can bring it down and back up again. It might be important to understand that.”

  After breakfast and a quick shift via one of Owailion's memory orbs they stood at the Invader's Cliff and Owailion placed his hand against Tamaar's shield around her territory while Raimi held the horn. “Tiamat,” he called, invoking the sea dragon's true name. “We need to speak with you. Are you awake? Please hear us.”

  “She was the only dragon to seal off her territory,” Raimi commented as they waited for a response. “I wonder why.”

  “Yes,” Owailion confirmed. “You should also talk to her about her truth spell. She's the expert on your deep, long lasting spells. She might even be able to help with the language spell.”

  Raimi nodded, but Owailion could sense her latent doubt in her ability. Rather than dwell on that, he renewed his call to the dragon. “Okay, Tiamat, wake up. We need to speak with you.”

  “Go away,” they heard in triple tone as each of Tamaar's heads snarled at them. “We have a right to sleep.”

  “Yes, but you have to wake up to let us in. We need to put the finishing touches on that palace and I want to ask you to hold onto a Talisman for me,” Owailion insisted.

  Tamaar sounded peeved. “Just you and Raimi? No dragons or other sorcerers?”

  Owailion smiled over at his wife as he replied, “No, we're alone. Rai…my Lady will be staying to work on the gardens, but that should only take a few weeks and she won't disturb you. Can we come in?”

  They heard a long suffering trio of sighs but they also sensed the seal around Tamaar lowered and they could pass through. As soon as they crossed the unseen barrier they felt it rise again behind them like a trap. Owailion shifted them to the nearly completed palace on the southern coast and showed his wife around the grand mansion for a few minutes. Finally he sat down on one of its many terraces along the cliff to look out to sea. From there he began an awkward conversation with the sea dragon while Raimi began to plan the extensive gardens that would be involved in a cliff-side mansion.

  “Tamaar, you have not truly gone to sleep yet, have you?” Owailion began, giving voice to his curiosity about the process.

  “We have responsibilities that are not easy to set aside,” the dragon groused. “It is difficult to stay on guard, even one head at a time. The shield around Tamaar is important and we do not know if it weakens after we drift off. One head must always remain awake. It is like going into deep, unexplored waters.”

  “I can understand that,” Owailion replied. “Why don't you let me maintain the shield? I can do that for you and then perhaps you will sleep better.”

  He only got a non-committed grumble.

  “Well, consider it an open invitation. Also, I need you to know that eventually there will come a Wise One who will need access to this territory and will not be able to wake you. She is the Queen of the Sea. You cannot block her out. If you do, there will be an incomplete protection over the Land as a whole,” he warned.

  “Is that a threat, human?” Tamaar replied in the most fearsome tone he had ever heard from any dragon, even Ruseval.

  “No,” he replied carefully. “This Wise One will be a compliment to your power. She will…” He waited for a moment, feeling the inspiration that accompanied Wise One statements, “She will have your name. She also will be named Tiamat and that will be how she will find you.” He tried to reassure the dragon even as he wondered where that qualification had come from.

  “Well, anyway, it would be nice if you would let her in and trust her when she comes. To that end I have something for you to give to her. You know all the Wise Ones are going to seek these Talismans. To find and approach you will be a formidable task. She must come Seek you out for this Talisman. If she does so, will you let her in and acknowledge her right to live in the palace?”

  Owailion held the horn out into the air. He had no idea where the sea dragon actually was physically but handing an arm-length horn to her would be impossible anyway. By sheer size Tamaar would have a difficult time holding it. He waited patiently for the dragon to respond, taking it from him magically. He could hear Tamaar's reluctance, dripping with annoyance and was tinged by fear of the unknown. Then, with an almost audible huff the horn disappeared from his grasp.

  Owailion dusted off his hands as if that duty was done and he moved on to another. “Finally, I have one more piece of business, and I don't know how to make this…”

  “Humans are silly, you know,” Tamaar interrupted. “They are so worried about the feelings of others that they aren't worried about the truth when it needs to be said.”

  Owailion cleared his throat and then as admonished, blurted out his uncomfortable message. “Imzuli stole the rune stones and gave them to an outlander sorcerer,” he said quickly, mentally, unwilling to bring the words out into the open where they seemed more real to him.

  For a long while dead silence echoed from Tamaar's cavern. He could imagine the wheels turning behind the rigid shields of the three headed dragon as the dragon thought through this accusation. Finally the dragon lowered her shields enough to speak to him again.

  “Show us,” she ordered flatly.

  Owailion obliged reluctantly, pressing the images he had seen in Raimi's bowl into the minds of the dragon. Tamaar absorbed it and added it to whatever she had contemplated privately behind her shield. Only then did Tamaar comment.

  “That hatchling has too much of her father in her. Curiosity does not become her. What will you do to address this?”

  Owailion rocked back in surprise. He had thought – no, hoped and prayed - that the dragons would take Imzuli's consequences under their purview. “Me….I…I had not thought to do anything. She's a dragon, not a human. There is nothing I can do to discipline her and no harm was really done unless the sorcerer who bought them can use them for mischief. We were more concerned that she …if she is willing to sell the stones, what more might she try to sell?”

  Tamaar's grumble grated on his mind. “Sell? We do not understand this word 'sell'.”

  Owailion explained carefully. “Humans sell one thing for something they want more; their labor for food, something they have made for something they cannot make for themselves. In this case Imzuli sold the stones for a translation of what was written on them. We fear she might also not want to go into the Sleep and was willing to sell… to sell Raimi's name to a sorcerer that could prevent her from falling asleep.”

  After a long thought Tamaar asked another question. “Have you asked her about this?”

  “We have little evidence of such wrongdoing. Would not her Heart Stone prevent her? I have no wish to accuse anyone, especially with so little evidence. You know her far better than I do. How will she reac
t to such an insinuation?”

  Tamaar did not reply immediately and Owailion could not even sense her shields activated. Perhaps she had fallen back asleep. But when she did break her silence, Tamaar's mental voices spoke in an eerie tandem.

  “You are the stewards of the Land now. When you address this, do not inform us. We will sleep now.”

  With that dismissal Tamaar shut Owailion out of her mind.

  * * *

  Raimi sat on the sheer cliff just outside the walls of the opal palace, looking down into the turquoise waters of a narrow bay and thought deeply about what she needed to do here. The gardens meant little and actually required only a small sliver of her attention. Instead she hoped to explore the shields that she would craft around each palace. After studying Tamaar's shield that sank into the sea floor just feet beyond the cliff on which she sat, Raimi felt she could make a better, more substantial shield than the one she had attempted at Paleone.

  She also wondered how she could craft these shields so that the true owner of each home would be able to get inside. It seemed a problem more troubling than the seals themselves. She meditated on the problem, basking in the warm jungle air despite the wintery sun outside Tamaar's seal. In her hands she held the Talisman bowl, empty of water and let her mind pass through the earth, like the water that ate away mountains and always sought its way free to the oceans. She became the rivers and streams, cleaned by the movement and focused only on the needs of the future. And despite the bowl was empty she began to see a vision.

  Alarmingly it displayed not the past, but some unknown future, and Raimi longed to open her eyes so the vision would stop. But she was no longer in charge of the deep magic. Instead, she knew God guided her mind now. “If you seal the palaces, I will provide a door steward to open them. Each Wise One must Seek until they find. Find the one who will open the seal for them,” chanted the comforting voice in her mind.

  Raimi gasped as a panorama of figures flashed through her mind: gentle women, mighty men, an eagle, a ghost, a fairy and even a phoenix passed through her mind like flashes on the water, with barely any time to register behind her eyes*. “These I will make the door stewards like Owailion's Enok. They hold the keys to break the seals. The Wise ones must Seek,*” the voice reiterated and then faded.