by Kyle Belote
“Essence of Transference,” Judas whispered.
“Are you crazy? You can’t do that!” Meristal whispered back to him, furious. “You take a chance in destroying her mind. The Essence hasn’t even been medically proven let alone tested. You’re going to kill her!”
He turned to Meristal. “Two people told me tonight I condemned her to die by bringing her here. At this point, does it matter?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I am assuming she will live and am trying to help her. If this works, there will be little we need to teach her. She will gain knowledge and history of the Realm, all the important things about a place she has never been. She can start a life here.” He knelt beside the girl and glanced back up to his friend.
Meristal pondered, gazing at them, acquiescing his point with a silent nod. He knew what she was thinking. The girl could learn much, and they wouldn’t need to teach her as if a child. She would be savvy, even raise her intelligence. If this worked, truly worked, he may have unwittingly discovered one of the greatest medical revelations, going a long way to combating forms of memory loss.
“When will you let her wake?” Meristal asked him, concerned.
“Around dawn.”
“They will make you send her back. You know that, don’t you?”
“They will try and fail. I won’t do anything I don’t want to. They can’t order an exile. I’m outside their jurisdiction, a call they made. I do try to abide by the laws to keep some semblance of peace. Their cry for me to return her would be against the law. Now that I am thinking about it, I allow them to keep the Mirror of Imation, and they should be grateful. Without it, there is no portal to the Other Side. Between destroying the Mirror and sending her back, guess which one I would pick?
“Wouldn’t destroying the Mirror cause the Realms to collapse? You made those magical laws, and now you’re an exile, aren’t they void?”
“Maybe, to answer both of your questions,” Judas conceded, unconcerned.
“The big question is: would it reverse what you did to Xilor or his followers?” she prodded.
Judas turned and gave her a where-are-you-going-with-this expression. “Possibly.”
Meristal subsided, content to let the conversation end. “I noticed you called for a meeting tonight, about her?”
“No, something else. I think it’s best we arrive separately.”
“Okay, I’ll wait five minutes after you leave.”
Judas looked down to the girl and back to Meristal. He trusted her with his life and that of the girl. Meristal fought at his side in the Wizard’s War, his companion before his exile, a friend afterward. He nodded, taking a small step back. He gathered his essence about him, it surged with his silent command, and he vanished.
***
Chapter 5 : Desert Of The Forsaken
The Desert of the Forsaken: a desolate place, hot and unforgiving. Apor, the larger, pale cerulean sun, and Praema the smaller, brilliant amaranth globe bathed the barren wilderness in merciless heat. But darkness descended, ushering in a welcomed reprieve. The wind rustled with a gentle sigh as the temperature plummeted to near-freezing. The cracked, dried surface crumbled beneath the shifting weight of two figures standing next to each other, cloaks drawn tight around them as they hunkered over their fire.
A third figure winked into existence behind the two smaller beings. He paused and waited, wary of a potential trap. He reached out with his essence and identified them almost at once: Atz and Lurx.
Both still wore their magic-imbued armor and were oblivious to Judas’ arrival. The warlock suppressed a smile, glad he still possessed the ability to sneak up on them. His skills remained undiminished since the war. He walked closer and cleared his throat. Startled, they turned, drawing swords but stopped when they recognized him. The warlock gazed at them, his expression masking his thoughts. The two smaller, muscular forms bowed in greeting, almost bumbling.
“Don’t bow to me; I am not a king,” the warlock admonished. His face grimaced like sucking on a lemon, and he tossed his belongings on the ground near the fire.
Kings are more trouble than they are worth.
Once, he befriended a king who honored him above all others. Blessed with a powerful and rich friend, Judas never lost himself to the decorum of palace life. He winced when people were as fearful around him as their king. They feared his wrath, an imaginary worry. From then on, the idea of monarchy repulsed Judas.
“No, not a king,” muttered Atz, “but you’re the supreme wizard of all wizardkind. You even cast out the Dark Lord into the eternal abyss itself! Doesn’t your deed grant you some respect?”
“You did give us all an incredible gift: life without fear,” seconded Lurx.
“Master Guardians, that is very kind of you, but life without fear is only half a life. With life there is death, love and fear, joy and hate, a never-ending circle that must be balanced. Nothing is eternal—not the Abyss, not death.”
“You speak of the myth,” Lurx said, breathing deep.
Am I? he wondered. If he was, he wasn’t consciously.
Atz nodded. “From the fairies.”
“The one about a mage coming forth from beyond the touch of mysticism? Are you familiar with the myth?” The two dwaven shook their heads. Judas smiled. “In essence, the legend is of a being who will come forth and be a perfect balance between Light and Dark. Equal in all aspects: life, death, love, hate, like life itself. The mage will be the restorer of life–in more ways than one. Knowledge and experience will come with heavy costs, loves lost, hate found, death will come, and life will thrive.”
The two dwaven grew silent and gave a slight shudder; they did not like to talk about death. For dwaven, the subject was taboo. Death, though inevitable, was shunned from casual conversation. When the subject of death couldn’t be avoided, they talked through obscured and slanted meanings, often referring to life. For the dwaven, only the Keeper of the Dead spoke about the deceased.
Many did not find dwaven hospitable. Wizardkind became skeptical of their shorter friends because they closed themselves off in their mountain halls, alienating from the outside world, and perceived this as a sign they did not care for any of the other races. Their dark history drove them to alienation. Most would leave the mystery unsolved, not caring why the dwaven behaved this way. Wizardkind was a guilty of the same thing too, only caring for themselves.
How did we become so short sighted?
Long ago, the friendly race lived beside the mountains rather than inside them. The dwaven made fine armor, swords, and shields using methods only privy to them. These hoarded passed from generation to generation, father to son, but changed after the centaurs hatched their nefarious plans.
Judas enjoyed their company and cherished it as much as he did the company of elyves, unicorns, fairies and dragons, the latter sparingly.
Atz combed his stubby, thick fingers through his long waist-length beard. “Could that mage be you?”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?” Lurx interjected. “You could be. You did defeat the Dark Lord.”
“How are you sure you’re dwaven?”
“Because I am!” Lurx proclaimed with pride.
“Yes, but how do you know you are a dwaven? Perhaps your forefathers got a name wrong, and you’re a dwandur or an elyf.”
“Because that’s what I am,” Lurx repeated, slower. “I’ve been told; I’d know if I was different.”
“As would I, Master Guardian,” The warlock gave a kind smile. “I will admit to the similarities between the myth and my life, but I do not come from beyond the touch of mysticism.”
“Where is everyone?” Atz inquired. Judas relented to the blatant change of the subject. The dwaven, anxious for the meeting to be over, and away from the centaur sure to come. The warlock sympathized.
“The journey is long, and not everyone can slip away from watchful eyes,” the warlock said, pausing to frown in concentration. “So we shall wait.”
“
Why are we meeting here instead of Ralloc or your manor?” asked Lurx.
“I’ve grown suspicious of Ralloc, who hasn’t? Enemy eyes are scrutinizing it, and this is the only place where we can be protected by Soma and other benevolent spirits.”He smiled down at the dwaven. Hearing the name of their goddess helped calm them but he did not believe in such notions himself, at least, not the dwaven’s version. Both dwaven and their taller cousins, dwandurs, were a superstitious lot.
“What makes you think Ralloc is watched?” Atz spoke at last.
“Everyone looks to Ralloc, from all over Ermaeyth, and always will. There are whispers if you listen.”
“We can always trust your judgment, Judas,” a honeyed voice came from behind them. All three turned, spying Madam Meristal Raviils as she strode forward. “Is this a full meeting? Who else are we waiting on?”
“Down to business fast–you appreciate what I like,” Judas commented, and he held his arms wide to embrace her again, propriety discarded.
They released each other, quicker this time, and he spoke to all present. “We are waiting on Staell, a Maghai of unicorns; Sedrus, the baleful weapon master of the centaurs; Zmora, the fairy representative; Mella, of the elyves of the Enclave in the Vikal Mountains–and the elyfian High Consular in training. We have two new additions, the goblins and Council Members Kellis and Lagelm, and Soma, of course,” Judas carefully added the dwaven’s goddess at the end, whether real or imaginary.
Almost as soon as Judas spoke, five figures appeared and approached the fire together. Sedrus, the centaur, called out a greeting as Judas surveyed them from afar. To his disappointment, he didn’t spy the two newest members among them, the goblins.
Sedrus stared down as he neared the fire, and seeing the two dwaven, turned his head in disgust. “What are these vermin doing here?”
“They are here on my request,” Judas intoned with a commanding voice, leaving no room for argument. “They are the Guardians of the magical and non-magical Realms. The V’Sol have cared for the Mirror of Imation since the beginning. We require their help, and we will respect them as equals. Their abilities can shield us from prying eyes and sensitive ears.”
Sedrus kept his head high, a blatant show of disgust and reluctance to cooperate. The two dwaven eyed each other and gave a silent snicker.
Judas, privy to the knowledge the V’Sol talked telepathically because of their armor, only imagined what jokes were at Sedrus’ expense.
“I did not predict Lagelm’s and Kellis’ absence. It seems they aren’t coming. We can begin. This morning, the Mirror of Imation reacted erratically due to enchantments detected on the Other Side of the gateway. Once there, it came to my attention the Kothlus trilogy emerged once again. For those of you who do not recall, the Kothlus books are written in Xilor’s blood, the only way I might bind him. If he or his minions acquire them, he will be one step closer to resurrecting. These three books are the starting point of what I have been trying to prevent.”
“A starting point to what, Judas?” Zmora questioned.
“I think you comprehend as well as the rest of us, Zmora. It could only be one thing,” Meristal spoke. A hardness filled her voice and the expression on her face showed how much she loathed when anyone, or anything, tried to question or contradict Judas. “How many times must he prove himself? By the time you all start believing, it will be too late.”
“The Dark Lord Xilor will return to power? I didn’t think it possible,” Mella, the elyfian, interrupted.
“Not will, not for certain, but he is in the process as we speak,” Judas admitted, frowning.
“Someone went to the Other Side to retrieve them. I am still looking into how they managed to get past Atz and Lurx. What does this mean for us?”
We have a betrayer in our midst, Staell stated. The unicorn gleamed, effulgent, his inner light shining through his translucent skin. A slight shiver went through the gathering. unicorns spoke with telepathy; each time they spoke, it was like an invasion of privacy unless you became accustomed. Judas looked up, making eye contact.
“No,” Sedrus interjected. “There is no way he could come back. You killed him! You told us you killed him!”
“Indeed, I did. Even though I killed him, he still lives,” Judas revealed.
“What?” Zmora probed.
“The infallible Lakayre lied!” Sedrus proclaimed.
I’m sure– Staell began.
“Your treachery knows no bounds. Perhaps the Kothlere Order is right to cast you out, to hunt you down! If he isn’t dead, where is he?”
“Enough!” shouted a voice. All eyes turned to Atz. The dwaven kept their silence in the meetings, only present as a means of protection, this marking the first time they spoke to everyone. “Master Lakayre stopped him. That’s all that matters! If he hadn’t, you would all be kneeling at Xilor’s feet by now, or perhaps even deceased!”
“We all want to understand, even I must confess curiosity. How did you stop him Master Lakayre?” Lurx inquired.
The warlock, silent for a few moments, reliving memories he tried to forget. “I destroyed his body, rendering him unsuitable to sustain life, but he still lived on in a wraith-like form. I ripped his soul away, tearing it from his consciousness, yet he still lived. I trapped his mind, his essence into a mirror, much like the Mirror of Imation–that is where I got the idea from–yet he still lived. I cast his soul into the Abyss and his hold on magic ceased. Returning for his body, Xilor spoke to me from the mirror, still alive. I realized he couldn’t die. With time, he was sure to escape and the only thing left to do was to make it as hard as possible for him to come back. I siphoned the blood from his body and buried his body in the City of Despair. That is when his followers stole the Mirror from Ralloc. Even if he managed to procure one part of himself, he’d still need the others.”
This does not help us, Staell broke in. He scanned the others gathered. Is your curiosity satisfied? Now we need to work on preventing him from returning. You heard Judas yourself, it’s a matter of time, not if. We must work to prolong this inevitable conclusion. We must find the betrayer among us.
“It’s the bloody vampires,” Sedrus mused, his tone acidic. His gaze swept over to Atz and Lurx. “Or these dwaven.”
“Yes, betrayed by our kind,” Judas confirmed, ignoring Sedrus’ last remark.
“Another betrayer in Ralloc…”
“The same kind? No, we are not!” Sedrus growled. Hate shown in his eyes as he looked at the dwaven.
“Your blood may not be the same, but magic connects you. We all are connected. Either magical or non-magical,” Judas commented, his ire building.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Meristal broke the tension, “but we never caught the first betrayer, did we?”
“No, we didn’t,” Judas confirmed. Meristal noted the tinge of regret.
“A first one? When was this? Are you sure it’s not the same one?” Mella, the elyves representative asked, her interests piqued. Her raven hair rustled with the caress of a gentle breeze.
“Long ago, during the climax of the Wizard’s War,” Meristal answered with disdain. “You were yet part of the group. We are sure the first one is inactive, either passed on or removed from a position of power and firsthand knowledge. To be honest, we weren’t certain.”
“Another one rises,” the warlock informed. “It’s up to us to find out who did it before the damage is too much to repair. But the three books were located on the Other Side, that much we can discern.”
Master Judas? Staell chimed in. You have spoken in the past tense more than once. Is there something you haven’t told us?
“Indeed, you are wise and alert, Staell. Yes, past tense because they were on the Other Side. They aren’t anymore. I went myself, along with the two guardians, Master Lurx and Master Atz, and council member Daylynn Reese.”
“You what!” Meristal shrieked, her long-time hatred for Daylynn Reese getting the better of her.
“The Council’
s decision, not mine. You are always my first choice,” he assured her. “You were still in Mecas River City, and I could not wait for your arrival. We didn’t realize what caused the disturbance at the time, so we had to act.”
“Of course,” Meristal relented. Judas stifled a smile as she bit back retorts and fought for composure. An inkling crept into his mind; she still longed for the old days, when it was him and her against the world, no matter how much she talked about progression.
Perhaps I am not the only one who can’t escape the days of the war. The good days, youth and vibrancy, invulnerable. Now? Old and forgotten, Judas mused. During those darkest days, they both meant the world to each other and their fierce friendship was forged through warfare.
“That still doesn’t explain the past tense expression,” Mella spoke up. “They are in our possession now, are they not?”
“No, they are not,” Judas said, voice solemn. Shock arched through the gathering like wildfire.
“How did this happen?” Zmora solicited.
“It matters not,” Mella spoke up. “I am sure Warlock Lakayre did everything in his power. Someone slipped by him, could any of you do better?” Other than Meristal’s mumble of ‘maybe,’ everyone went silent, an unarticulated agreement.
“I want each Head of Creatures to report and keep tabs on their designated species. Be mindful of more signs of Xilor, like the sheol on the Other Side.”
“I heard about that,” Meristal grunted.
“Sedrus, following this meeting, check on the other centaurs: Mella, take the goblins, trolls, and elyves. Zmora, of course, you have the fairies and vampires; Staell, the unicorns are yours, along with the dragons; Meristal, take the gorrillians–you are the only one those damn things listen to–and the saricrocians.”
Judas pointed to Atz and Lurx. “The dwaven are yours.”
He turned to his pack as an angry voice burst into the silence.
“What will you be doing, Lakayre?” Sedrus demanded. He stamped his hoof, his muscle rippling beneath his chestnut brown coat.
A thick, choking silence fell. Everyone waited, taken aback by Sedrus’ blatant disregard for titles and propriety within the group. Muted conversation ceased. Eyes darted around, averting the two. No one wanted to watch this confrontation. Judas led, they followed, doing whatever he asked, knowing the necessity. Sedrus was the only being in the circle who didn’t like answering to anyone outside his race or anyone at all.
