Darr tilted his head to look up for the Archon. He hadn’t heard from him in a while now. Out of the corner of his eye, something darker than the shadow around him caught his attention. His breath caught in his throat. His heart stopped, and he lay still.
The dark shapes worked their way west through the canyon, their movements fluid and black. The cold returned, stronger and more debilitating than before. He froze from the inside out, his being reduced to something so small he could barely perceive it. He knew what caused it.
The Soul Seekers.
They slid out into the starlight below him, shadows come to life, cloaked and hooded from head to toe in tattered robes. There were four or five of them. If there were more, he couldn’t see them. Silver tipped claws dangled at their sides, shining and inert and anything but useless. Like specters, they floated above the ground on invisible legs, silent and stealthy embodiments of death.
Darr took in a short breath. The Soul Seekers stopped and stood motionless in the canyon between him and the willow. Their empty hoods still faced west. The Summoner’s lungs froze, and a shiver of dread spun down his spine, uncontrollable.
As if sensing the movement, the Seekers turned as one, the black hoods peering up the rock wall of the canyon. They were looking right at him. They knew where he hid. They intended to destroy him, to rip him asunder like the Dwarf hunter in Tyfor had described.
Flee! Run away!
The words screamed in his mind, but Darr’s body wouldn’t work. With the incarnations of death standing before him, his bones and blood had turned to ice, his muscles had atrophied, and his only thoughts were of regret. The Seekers would come for him, and he would die.
The Seekers shifted their bodies in his direction, gliding towards him to finish him off. A breeze blew through the air, and Darr dipped his head, waiting for death. No, it wasn’t a breeze. The air itself was still, and he lifted his head to see the willow across from him swaying, its limbs and branches shifting.
Sound exploded across the canyon, and the willow came to life, its slender branches stretching out for the Seekers, wrapping about their robes like dozens of clinging tendrils. The tree shuddered, and the branches flung outward, tearing the Soul Seekers to pieces in the process, their robes shredded and scattered into the night. Their bodies, if they had any, were torn apart and lost to the darkness.
The entire spectacle ended in seconds. Darr blinked. The tree shook itself once before letting its branches hang limply once more. Darr blinked a second time, thinking he’d been mistaken, and the death the Soul Seekers would bring him still approached.
The Seekers were gone. Calm had returned, and the night no longer threatened. Darr let the breath he held in his lungs go and a smattering of bright spots crossed his vision. He felt sleepy and dizzy, and he shut his eyes to regain his composure.
Chapter Seven
“Despite all his planning, the Endless was not what Symdus expected. A person within the Endless was not subject to the ravages of time, but neither were they aware of the outside world. Worse, the outside world had no way of knowing a person slept within the Endless unless it was previously established. Inside the Endless, a person might sleep forever, lost within a pocket of timelessness with no body and no Light to show that they’d ever existed.”
~From A Current History of Ictar, as told by Nidic Waq
Darr jerked awake with a start. Morning had arrived.
With some effort, the Summoner sat up, pulling his blanket tight against his body in order to fight off the early morning nip in the air. At first, he remembered nothing from the previous night, only a vague perception of the Currents and his time there. He examined his body, searching for a clue to what had happened. He lay wrapped in his blanket, stretched out before the cold ashes of the previous night’s fire. The edge of a bluff dropping down into a canyon lay not more than a few feet away. Darr leaned over to get a better look at the canyon below.
In an icy flood, the image of the Soul Seekers ravaged his thoughts. The feelings generated by the memory of their silver claws and faceless hoods were enough to paralyze him. Alone and afraid again, Darr had no one to save him. No one except...
“Ah ha, young Reintol. You have survived after all, I see.”
Racall appeared through a screen of trees beyond the ashes of the campfire. The Seekers had been ripped apart by the branches of the willow. He searched the canyon for the strange tree, but he couldn’t find it.
“It was you,” Darr whispered, his gaze turning back to the Archon. “You were the willow. You became that tree and saved me from them.”
The smile on Racall’s face broadened. “You are perceptive, as always, young Reintol.”
The ice in Darr’s veins thawed, but the blackness of the creatures from last night still lingered in his mind. “It was them, wasn’t it, Racall? Those were the Soul Seekers I saw last night.”
Racall nodded and the smile faded from his face. The Archon knelt down and sat across from Darr. “They were,” Racall said. “But you have nothing to fear from them, not yet anyway. While you travel with me, young Summoner, the Soul Seekers will not harm you.”
Darr shook his head. He had trouble believing that. The Seekers had come out of nowhere, and now that he knew what they were like, nothing frightened him more.
Racall’s flat mouth shifted into a smile. “I assure you your safety. The Seekers pose no threat to me, and I can find them long before they can find me, or you, for that matter. I detected them while we were in the Currents last night.”
Darr shook his head in confusion. “Was I really in the Currents last night?”
“Of course you were,” Racall replied. He brushed the nearby branch of a blossoming cherry tree, and his cheerful demeanor returned.
Darr sat in a daze for a moment longer, his mind still reeling from thoughts of Soul Seekers and spirits. He reached into his pack for a piece of bread and chewed on it. He didn’t remember leaving the Currents. The whole experience left his memory blurred. While he remembered his initial acceptance by the spirits and his explorations with Racall, he retained very little else. An entire chunk of his memories had been stolen from his mind.
With his hunger sated, a new flood of questions plagued Darr. He tried to voice them to Racall, but the Archon wouldn’t hear them. They would have plenty of time to talk as they crossed the Valimere. Reluctantly, the Summoner gathered his few possessions, and together, he and Racall resumed their trek through Trenton Pass.
“If I’d spent all night in the Currents, wouldn’t I have lost an entire night’s sleep?” Darr asked while they hiked.
Racall slowed and looked back at him. “Time has no meaning when you are in the Currents. From the moment you entered them last night, time ceased to exist. You might have been in there for what seemed like minutes or days, but it did not matter out here in the physical world. So long as you fully submerge yourself in the spirit realm, not the blink of an eye will pass while you are away.”
The Earth Archon resumed his pace, leaving Darr staring after him in mild shock. “But that’s impossible,” he cried. “If I wasn’t in there for as long as I was, why did I wake up in the morning with nothing except a vague memory of the Seekers?”
“It happens quite often for Summoners on their first attempt into the Currents,” Racall soothed, still walking briskly along the ridge, not bothering to turn back. “Your mind overcompensates for the time you think you have lost in the physical world. The truth of the matter is, your mind actually stays with your physical body. It is your Light that becomes aware of the spirit realm.”
“My Light?” Darr asked before running to catch up.
Racall smiled down at him. “Your Light is always connected to the Currents, but for most people, they are never aware of this connection. As a Spirit Summoner, you have learned to listen to the spirits in such a way that allows your perception to shift from your mind to your Light. This is why some of your memories are vague. Your mind is sorting out the informat
ion your Light has collected. No worries. This will get easier in time.”
Darr followed in silence afterwards. Racall should’ve told him what to expect. Of course, making the discovery of lost time for himself probably worked out better in the long run. If Racall had told him beforehand, he might not have wanted to venture into the Currents. It wasn’t such a bad thing not having to worry about time when in the Currents. It meant he could spend all the time he wanted there.
Over the next two days, Darr learned all he could from Racall as they traveled through the Valimere. The Archon passed on new relaxation techniques, and meditations which would allow Darr to quiet his mind and enter the Currents swiftly and more efficiently than before. He learned to train himself into using a trigger, an automatic response that would take him to the Currents.
“Emotion and memory are two things you should be mindful of while in the Currents,” Racall explained one evening before they stopped for the night.
“How do you mean?” Darr asked.
“While you are in the Currents, your ability to reason logically is reduced. You do not have your mind to think with, and so you must rely on your memory and emotion, as well as the spirits, to guide you.”
Darr shook his head. “But I remember trying to think in the Currents.”
Racall smiled. “Thoughts are still possible in the Currents. I am talking about reason. It is important that you keep your emotions under control. In the spirit realm, your emotions and memories are what drive your thoughts, not logic. And while your memories might be mindful of some consequences, your emotions know nothing of consequence.”
Racall continued by explaining emotions and memories could be transferred through the spirit realm--either suppressed or intensified within the Light of living creatures.
Later that night, Darr asked about the Soul Seekers.
“The Seekers are elementals drawn from the Light itself,” the Archon told him. “The Light contains the power of life and death, and it is from death that the Devoid has shaped its minions. The Seekers hold some influence over the Currents, allowing them to instill dread in their victims. Remember that, young Reintol. Keep your wits about you and your emotions in check when they are around or else they will easily manipulate you into becoming prey.”
Racall offered little else on the Seekers, and while it wasn’t as much information as Darr would have liked, it turned his obsession into a mild curiosity.
The days passed quickly. Darr’s connection to everything around him grew with every lesson. At night, the Archon would encourage him to venture back into the Currents to explore his potential and grow more comfortable with its complexities. Darr dove in, and he found he could move in and out of the Currents without losing time or his memories.
When the Archon and the Summoner finally reached the far side of the Valimere Mountains, late in the afternoon of their third day of travel, fall set upon them once more. It appeared the Sephirs’ binding magic still had some strength left after all. The trees coming down out of the mountains and stretching out across the plains of Cortaz were bright orange fingers, waving their leaves in every direction.
Racall led him down out of the foothills and they angled south towards the Lourcient River. As the daylight waned, the crisp fall air swooped down upon them, but the skies remained clear. Darr marveled at the rolling plains of Griton before him. He’d seen them once several years ago. They had the appearance of an ocean made of grass, rolling waves of yellow and green studded with trees. Ictar still had some hope left, he thought. Imbalance might be spreading among the elements, but there were still places where the seasons fell regularly and blight had yet to ruin the landscape.
Darr’s hopes ran high until Racall brought him before the banks of the Lourcient River. Once the proudest, most powerful river in the Cortazian territories, the Lourcient had been reduced to nothing more than a creek winding feebly west towards the peaks of the Valimere. Its banks stretched outward into grotesque drifts of mud, gravel, and tree limbs for miles in either direction. The water itself looked disgusting, fouled from sediment. Darr dropped to his knees. He hadn’t prepared himself for this sight, and his strength and resolve fell away. In the failing of the river, the hopelessness of the task before him stood fully revealed.
“Is this because of the Water Sephir?” he asked, barely able to get out the words.
Racall nodded. “The Lourcient River dies because the magic of the Water Sephir runs deep through this part of Ictar. With it missing from its altar, its magic cannot reach into Ictar, and its element fades.”
Darr watched the thinning line of the once magnificent river, in horror of the tragedy brought about by the Devoid. Nidic Waq had been so insistent in restoring the Sephirs, and now Darr knew why. At the same time, what difference could he make? He’d made the leap into the Currents, explored the vastness of the spiritual realm and come to understand much about its workings, but he still didn’t know the connection between the Currents and summoning. How could he draw physical power from a place built entirely of imagery and light?
Once the sun began to set over the eastern horizon, Racall turned away, walking along the muddy banks. Darr followed, tired of staring out at the ruined Lourcient. They found a small stand of cedar to camp beneath for the night. Racall discouraged a fire now that they weren’t protected by the Valimere’s cover. Darr didn’t mind much, except for the cold weather. He consumed his evening meal as night set in, and afterwards he leaned back against one of the cedar trunks with his cloak pulled close. With the moon only half full, there was enough light to make out various shapes dotting the landscape.
Darr felt incredibly alone in that moment. The plains shouldn’t look so foreign to him, even as dark as they were. The memory of the Lourcient River stuck fresh in his mind and added to the strangeness of his surroundings. The Ictar he’d always dreamed of seeing wasn’t there, buried under all the madness of the Soul Seekers and...
“Devoid.” Racall said the word smoothly, but with the right intensity so it startled Darr. “That is what this world is becoming...devoid of life.”
Darr sat up straight and looked over at the giant Archon crouching down next to him. The darkness grew deep around them, and Darr whispered, “This isn’t what I expected at all.”
Racall laughed softly. “Journeys of self-discovery seldom are, young Reintol.”
The Archon’s response caused Darr to wonder. “Is that really why Nidic Waq sent me? So I could find out who I am?”
“Of course he did. You cannot restore the Sephirs unless you know who you are, and part of knowing who you are is about going on this quest. Nidic Waq knew this when he chose you.”
The Summoner shook his head. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“I know, but does it really matter why the prophet chose you to go on this journey? He asked you to go, and you are here.”
Darr looked back out across the plains. He’d been asking himself the same questions since he’d left Tyfor, and it made him feel exposed for Racall to have read him so easily. The Archon had vast intuitive powers, and up until now, Darr hadn’t been bothered by the spirit creature’s ability. Regardless, the reasons that set him on this journey were no longer a subject he wanted to consider.
“Racall, you said something about an altar when we were talking about the Water Sephir. You said it wouldn’t be connected to the Currents since it was stolen from its altar. I thought the Sephirs were connected to the Currents all the time?”
The Archon nodded. “The Sephirs are connected to the Currents by the Light within them, the same as you are. The only way their magic can flow throughout Ictar is if they are placed on an altar. Their Light flows into the Currents through their altar, then out into Ictar as magic we know as the Four Elements.”
“But if the Sephir was stolen, how can its magic be stolen?”
“The Sephirs’ magic flows freely,” Racall said as if he were telling a fairy tale. “To absorb its Light is the same as absor
bing its magic, but to do this, someone would have to remove the Sephir from its altar, which in turn would disrupt the balance of the elements.”
Darr nodded in understanding. “So the altars act like a deterrent. If you try to steal the magic, you risk destroying everything, even yourself.”
Racall smiled faintly and said, “Today, with the Divine in power, the Sephirs are safe from the hands of mortal men.”
“Just not from the Devoid,” Darr replied.
“The Devoid wants to be free of its prison. Once free, it will consume what Light remains in the Sephirs, as well as the Light of every living creature on Ictar. When it is done, it will be engulfed in the return of chaos, and it will be indifferent to its own destruction.”
A chill vibrated through Darr coupled with a sick feeling in his stomach. Racall remained silent afterwards. A flood of questions concerning summoning, the Sephirs, and the Currents inundated his mind. He still wasn’t sure how Nidic Waq managed to control the magic of the elements when he was in the Currents, or when he wasn’t for that matter. The whole concept of magic remained too terrifying to consider.
Darr leaned back against one of the cedars and reached for his blanket. Racall looked over with a bright smile. “You’re not going to sleep, are you, young Reintol?”
The Summoner glanced up at Racall with a questioning look.
“The Currents await you,” the Archon chided. “How can you expect to learn about the spirit realm if you don’t explore it?”
Weariness crept over Darr, weighing down his back and shoulders, and causing his eyelids to droop. A small voice called to him, a familiar inner voice. This is what you asked for. This is your journey of self discovery. Darr forced a smile and gave Racall a perfunctory nod. He crossed his legs before him, monitoring his breathing at the same time. With no small amount of conscious thought, Darr slipped into the Currents in pursuit of his journey.
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