As the pub's owner finally delivered their gruel and bread, Vilmos turned his eyes away from the couple, but as a fish to the lure, his gaze returned shortly afterward and he stared openly as he ate. He wondered what the couple's story could be and when finally he could no longer hold his tongue in check, he asked Xith about the man and woman. The only thing Xith said was that the warrior was an indentured man and the woman was of the street. Vilmos didn't think that though. He saw another story, especially in the man's eyes.
The meal finished, the drink consumed, Xith and Vilmos returned to their rented room. Vilmos was quiet for a long time, content to sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the wall. This puzzled Xith as he hadn't seen Vilmos like this before and he didn't know what could be wrong. He asked what was wrong several times, but Vilmos didn't respond.
"Are you sick?" asked Xith, "You haven't said a word since we ate. Usually you are teaming with a hundred different questions. Forget about the man and woman. We can't do anything for them."
The subtle directing of the Voice stimulated Vilmos' subconscious. Again, Xith knew of a secret yearning.
"But why?" persisted Vilmos, "What could make someone so miserable. I could see pain on both their faces."
"He is a debtor. Once caught in the cycle, it can never be broken." Knowing something else was wrong, Xith fixed Vilmos with a discerning eye. Vilmos was referring to more than what he was talking about. He was also talking about himself, though he was not fully aware of this. "Tell me what is really bothering you, Vilmos?"
Vilmos replied, "I just don't understand."
"Go on," said Xith with compassion.
Vilmos decided just to blurt out what troubled him, and so he did. "Why should I learn magic?"
"What?" exclaimed Xith taken aback, but also relieved. He hadn't expected this. He had thought this issue completely settled.
"Why should I learn magic? It is evil!"
"No," stated Xith, calming, gathering his wits, "Vilmos, you are very wrong. Magic is not evil."
"The Great Book says it destroys things and the book is what I studied all the years of my life."
"No Vilmos, you are wrong," said Xith, "The link you saw is correct: slavery is evil; selling yourself is evil; yet if you are forced into it, you are not evil. Similarly, magic can be evil if used in the wrong hands; so can all things. Money is the worst evil of all, but if used properly it can accomplish good. You learn magic for the purpose of good and not evil. I would think you would have accepted this now, particularly after Quashan'"
"Magic tears things apart, it destroys! It destroys everything!" persisted Vilmos.
"Wait, don't be so hasty in your judgment!" Xith was almost angry, he had to calm himself before he continued. "Magic is only evil if the person using it is evil. Those of weak mind are easily overcome by the greed for power, and too much power can be an evil thing. This is why you will learn to control the gifts you have been granted. This is why you must learn patience; great power in unskilled hands is useless."
Vilmos shook his head. He watched Xith, but in the back of his mind, he saw the warrior with his great blade poised and at the ready. The woman was crouched with her head tucked between her knees before him. Vilmos called to him in his mind, urging him on. The fighter raised the weapon to the ready and lunged at the dark figure, but at the last moment, he veered the blade and walked away. Vilmos shouted in a booming voice, "But he will return!"
"The dark one is a myth, a legend." Xith carefully applied the truth. "He is not real. He is real only in our imaginations. The legend was created long before the Blood Wars… Maybe he existed at one time, long, long ago. I don't know for sure, no one does, but I do know he does not exist now. Now his existence is only through lore and myth, perpetuated by those that wish to control. They are the true evil; they are what we should fear. For it is they who manipulate such things to their own ends, using it to justify all that they do."
"He is not real, you are free," Vilmos called out in his mind to the warrior whom he saw clearly again. The hulking figure shook his head, the weight of his plight evident in his slumped shoulders as he walked away. Vilmos watched as the man retreated and gradually faded from sight.
Xith continued, although Vilmos had stopped listening to the words. "During the time of the gathering they will try to destroy us to prevent the coming… Yet a few, a very select few, have used the myth for the good of all. They have turned it around. They use it to prepare us for what the future will bring and this is why we study the histories. We must learn from the past and when the time comes we must be ready."
Lost in another's dreams, thoughts trapped in the vision that played out before him, Vilmos waited.
Xith rambled on, speaking words he really should have never told to Vilmos, but for a reason unknown to him he said anyway. Vilmos half-listened but couldn't shake the images from his mind. The warrior stood, staring coldly at him with unyielding eyes. The woman did not move from where she lay crumpled on the floor. "Go, hurry now," Vilmos said, adding after a momentary pause, "but if magic is not evil, then why is it forbidden? Why do the Priests of the Dark Flame destroy magic?"
Xith collected his thoughts again, trying to hide the surprise the other's emergence had brought him. "It is to prevent the corruption the future will bring. You must learn to use your magic to its fullest. You must learn to master it before it masters you."
"What?" asked Vilmos not understanding; the vision had faded, leaving him confused.
"Remember," explained Xith through scrutinizing eyes, using the dominating nature of the Voice, "The fate of all the lands, including Great Kingdom and this great, great city, will one day rest in your hands. You must believe, Vilmos. Believe because you have to believe and because you want to believe. He does not exist. You must believe and remember only this. You must be ready for our journey to Under-Earth. Forget all else…"
Chapter Thirty Seven
Word of the recent battles had spread throughout Great Kingdom's farthest holdings and Kingdom supporters came from the far corners of the realm to enter the service of the garrisons. That Imtal had withstood that last desperate battle as the royal family set out for Alderan did not surprise King Andrew. He had expected nothing less from his men. That Quashan' had not fallen did not surprise King Andrew either. He had never doubted that Great Kingdom was too strong, too proud to fall into enemy hands.
"The treatise with Zashchita and Krepost' progresses well sire." The man speaking was Chancellor Volnej, a member of Great Kingdom's High Council. He looked nearly as haggard as his companion to his right, both having just returned from long journeys. "The timberlands are even greater than I ever imagined. They will yield finer masts than the Belyj, finer masts indeed!"
"Good, good," replied King Andrew obviously pleased. He shifted in his chair, and then turned fully to face the chancellor. "Another report in two weeks and no sudden changes like last time. We cannot protect the eastern tract of High Province as it stands now, and one more attack and they threaten to break away."
"High Province is Lord Serant's domain. Let him fret over it," rebuked Keeper Q'yer, a tall, thin man, young in years by most standards, whose face held a wasted appearance. He had just returned from High Province by sea, a two-week journey on the southerly run, and he was a man prone to seasickness.
"We will forgive you, keeper," countered King Andrew, who was full of terse words this day, as he had been ever since the stranger's arrival. His thoughts were taxed heavily by concerns over his youngest daughter, Princess Adrina, and the presence of more than one of the Lore Keepers at the council table put him slightly on edge. Imagine, juggling the seats on council to their satisfaction, he thought to himself. He was more than a little displeased. "Especially since we can see that you have not yet recovered your senses."
Father Francis voiced his opinions to the king and to the gathered council, "The Western Territories are our proclaimed lands. I do not see why we need cater to the whims of a group of ruffian
s."
King Andrew wasn't adapting well to the fact that the priesthood and the keepers had taken a sudden special interest in Kingdom affairs. He spoke his mind plainly, "The problem with you, Father Francis, is that you do not see at all, perhaps if you took a lengthy sabbatical you would recover your senses."
Father Francis blanched and shrank into his chair. He gulped for air, which he couldn't seem to find.
Coming to the aid of his fellow priest was mandatory, and Father Jacob did so only because of the obligation, "Father Francis has had a trying week, sire—"
"Haven't we all," snapped King Andrew unhappily. High Council should have been concentrating on other concerns—like the recent arrivals—and for the past several hours they had been discussing matters that the lower council should have been addressing.
"I motion to dismiss council until tomorrow," stated Keeper Martin, a hint of urgency in his voice. It had been a long morning.
"Accepted," muttered King Andrew, evident relief in his voice.
The soft falling of footsteps aroused Princess Adrina to conscious thoughts and she opened her eyes. She recognized the weathered, generous looking man approaching, knowing she owed him a debt she could never fully repay.
"Princess Adrina, hello, my child." Adrina no longer cringed at the mention of the hated word. Child was simply a word that expressed the way the gray-haired gentleman felt about her. "What troubles one so beautiful as you?"
"Oh, Father Jacob. I don't know," said Adrina, sounding exhausted, "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do…"
"Well my child, perhaps you should tell me. Mayhaps I could solve this quandary before you get wrinkles on your forehead and gray hairs to boot," chuckled Jacob.
Adrina laughed, a soft girlish laugh from the past. A moment later, she regained her composure, her newly found womanhood returned and the laughter fell away. She was confused and not confused. "Father Jacob, you always know what to say to make me smile or laugh. Thank you, but I think I have to solve this dilemma on my own."
"Really?" stated Jacob. "I don't think so. I can see another expression hidden on your face under the dark and grim one," continued Jacob.
"What would that be?" asked Adrina whimsically.
"I believe you know what it is already, my child," Father Jacob said, walking away.
Chancellor Yi had taken her aside just this morning and told her of King Andrew's wishes that she agree to the arranged marriage with Rudden Klaiveson. She didn't realize until her thoughts subsided that marriage was the very thing Father Jacob had come to talk to her about. How could he have known, she wondered, unless her father had put him up to it? A somber smile passed her lips as she thought of another who would also be forced to wed soon if her father, the king, had his way.
"King Jarom has a daughter of marrying age." Adrina had heard the chancellor whisper to her father during the previous evening's council. She hadn't heard everything said, just enough. "This would surely settle him into complacency… You must make a decision, sire… Look to the bonding of Princess Calyin and Lord Serant."
Once more, Adrina heard echoes of the only words of her father that had been audible. "There is no love between them. She has not even bore him a child yet…" Then she had heard only the chancellor's multiple replies again. "Sire, this will come in time. Surely, there must be a spark kindling… Sire, if it pleases you, I will send Volnej… Yes sire, he is reliable… At once, sire." She wondered if the chancellor ever tired of catering to her father's whims.
Adrina noticed how dark the sky had grown; the sun would be setting soon. As tomorrow promised to be a long day and she needed to retire early, she started to rise from her seat but stopped as she heard footsteps against the cobbled stones. The sound of an oaken cane striking the floor was all the announcement she needed to tell her who approached.
"Hello, Keeper," she said without turning to face Keeper Martin. A flicker of memory reminded her of the first time she had met Keeper Martin. It had been the day her mother passed away—it was odd how memories of that day returned to her now—a sorrowful day for all the Kingdom, especially for the royal family. A declaration of mourning had ensued and the entire populace had worn black the week that followed. Her mother had been well loved by all citizens of the Kingdom, earned through her own love and kindness to everyone around her.
Her mother had been so beautiful, Adrina suddenly recalled. Increasingly of late, she was reminded by others of how much she resembled her, though she didn't think so. Sometimes she could see the pain in her father's eyes when he looked at her. Adrina had grown to understand his pain very well, quickly discovering how to soothe it away, how to soothe all the troubles and cares around her away.
"Princess Adrina," repeated Keeper Martin for the third time.
"Yes?" said Adrina snapping from her reverie.
"Ahh, Your Highness, nice to have you with me," joked the keeper. He moved to take a seat opposite her. "I have been looking all over for you," he chided.
Adrina replied, "I'm sorry, Keeper Martin. You were saying that you have been looking for me. Correct?"
Keeper Martin leaned forward in the chair, watching her, ensuring he had her full attention. "Why yes, yes, I have. I understand that you have taken it upon yourself to take the outsiders before council."
Adrina told him frankly, "I have, Keeper Martin, and I will. There is a debt that I must repay."
"I know," said Keeper Martin, "but do you think this is wise? Few know the truth of the past and fewer still would be willing to help outsiders. The elves are thought to be enemies and if you go in open council and declare Seth and Galan to be elves, you will put their lives in great danger."
Adrina protested, "They were there to help save Quashan'. We couldn't have turned the tide of battle without them."
Keeper Martin eyed her closely then said, "A single deed does not undo a lifetime of teaching that points to the contrary. You must not do this thing until the time is right. Do you wish more harm to come to them?" So saying, Keeper Martin excused himself to go find Father Jacob.
She watched Keeper Martin as he went. He took a few steps, then rapped the ground mightily with his oaken cane. A flash followed and then the keeper was gone. Father Jacob had explained the process to her when Keeper Martin had performed the same feat departing in the middle of a council session, but she still didn't understand it.
"You see it is a skill acquired with greater knowledge of the world in which we live, " Father Jacob had told her, "You exert your will and you wish yourself from one place to the next."
"But isn't that magic? And magic is…"
"Forbidden. Yes, it is, but that is not magic my child. Each person, each creature, that is born into this world has a force of will. Your will is the center of your being. Each is born with different amounts of will; some are strong, some weak. Will is what makes you want to survive, what makes you strong and many other things. Do you understand?"
"Kind of, maybe," she had said, "but how does it differ from magic? Do the Priests of the Flame tolerate such a thing?"
"Magic," Jacob had spit out the word with such distaste that Adrina even now recalled the expression glued momentarily to his features, "is said to be an evil thing. A truly evil thing. When one uses will they gather from the forces of nature and guide the energies through a focused center, your center being your level of will, of course. In this way, you simply channel the energies that already exist. You destroy nothing. The energy passes through you, you shape it to your needs, and when you are finished the energies are still there.
"Magic is a devouring force, it destroys. Instead of guiding the forces of will, it devours them. It draws upon the very threads of the universe. It steals the energies of creation and uses them. When a person uses magic, the energy they use is gone from our world, forever spent. It exists no longer and thus it leaves a void, an empty space, which only evil can fill. Now do you understand?"
Adrina hadn't understood, but she had claimed
to.
"Princess Adrina!" screamed Father Jacob as he stood directly in front of her.
"What, what?" said Adrina dazedly, surprised to find Father Jacob standing in front of her and not the fading image of him from her daydream.
"Child, are you there?" asked Jacob sincerely. "How long have you been having these blank spells?"
"What are you doing here? I thought you left. Keeper Martin was looking for you."
Jacob offered the princess his arm. "Martin can wait. Let me escort you back to your room."
Willingly, Princess Adrina walked with Father Jacob. She was confused. She wasn't experiencing blank spells. "I know you already explained this to me once, but could you tell me one more time."
"Tell you what, child?"
"How does Keeper Martin jump from one place to the next. How does he use that cane to do it? I thought you told me that he used the power of will."
Father Jacob slowed his gait. "I think I know what you are asking, but please only one question at a time next time."
Adrina laughed and replied, "Well, how does he do it? And tell me the truth this time."
Jacob considered for a moment when the two had had such a conversation, and then it took him a while longer to recall what he had told her. He chuckled when he remembered. "Before, to be honest, I was trying to teach you a lesson. What I said about magic and will is true, very true, but I can see that you have given thought to what I said. So now you are ready to know the whole truth…"
"Well?" asked Adrina.
"The cane is an arcane device that is attuned to an instrument held at the High Council of Keepers."
Adrina exhaled. "Then it is magic?" Her eyes flashed.
"Well it is… and it isn't… to tell the truth, yet that is a story for another time."
"That's not fair," disputed Adrina.
Jacob turned the handle to Adrina's door, "Here we are. Get some rest; we can talk later."
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