Glaide nodded slowly. The schedule of events seemed perfectly alluring to him. Too bad he’d have to wait a few more weeks... “And perhaps you could give me more information about my potential enemies? Like you did with the vampires and necromancers.”
“Hmm... I could already tell you a few more things,” he replied after a moment’s thought.
“I’m all ears!”
“Very well. First, there are the creatures we’re most likely to encounter. Besides orks and goblins, which shouldn’t be much of a problem, we may come across a few flatland trolls, satyrs, or in the worst-case-scenario, chimeras or mountain trolls.”
At that, the boy's eyes widened. “Are you sure we’ll reach our goal, then?” he asked, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “With such a plethora of enemies on the way, it seems rather hazardous...”
Kezthrem didn’t seem to catch the tone in his voice, and replied, “Believe me, the end will justify the means. And whatever the case, we won’t have to face all of these creatures at the same time. They live in different places, so the enemies we face will depend on where we are at any given time. Unless, of course, we’re particularly unlucky...” The lack of concern in his master’s voice disturbed Glaide. What he was saying seemed frightening, but he seemed completely unmoved by it. As if he could read his disciple’s thoughts, however, the man continued, “There is no point in worrying beforehand. For the moment, it is simply enough to be aware of the dangers that we might encounter.” Glaide felt only somewhat reassured. Continuing, Kezthrem added, “It will certainly be useful to you in the future to know which creatures you might find where, so I encourage you to memorize what creatures we encounter, and where we find them.”
The boy nodded, as his master continued, “I should also add, after what you said about Baras trying to eliminate you, that where we are going, there is little chance that he will bother us.” That comment caught Glaide’s attention, and he felt his old fears rising up again in his mind – fears he’d forgotten about for those last three months.
“And what makes you think that?”
“I can be sure of nothing,” replied Kezthrem, “but it seems that our enemy is at his strongest near the mountains of Fyth. After all, that is where he spoke to you, and he attacked Rackk, but once you and your friends reached the capital, it seemed that he was no longer able to reach you in any significant way. Sending a few skirmishers against the capital of the entire human race would accomplish little, as well he knew.”
Glaide thought about that for a moment. What his master had just said seemed very logical. The greatest danger did seem to be in the vicinity of Fyth. If his master assumed they would have few problems, that meant they would likely be traveling in the opposite direction, which was probably a good thing.
“That’s not all, though,” continued Kezthrem. “I have to mention a particular type of creature that worships Baras: demons.”
“Demons?” exclaimed the adolescent. “But isn’t that just another term for any of the monsters and creatures we might encounter?”
“No, Glaide,” Kezthrem said. He sighed, then added, “That is a misjudgment that you should not make. Demons are powerful in their own right, though they also act as disciples of Baras. They behave much like orks, but on a much higher level. They are not like vampires, whose preoccupations seem pointless and distant; demons live very much in the present, but their power is comparable to that of the creatures that live in the Desolate Plains...”
“What?” exclaimed the young man. “But they must be extremely dangerous, then!”
“That they are,” replied his master calmly. “No human can stand against them. They are as agile as elves, as strong as barbarians, as intelligent as humans, and they have the stamina of dwarves. On top of that, they are typically armed with both weapons and armor infused with magic.”
“And what can their weapons do?”
“A demonic sword can pierce any armor, and can inflict incurable wounds, while a breastplate of the same material will protect its wearer against any attack. It is virtually impenetrable. Every magical artifact has its own characteristics, but based on those examples, I’m sure you can imagine just what kind of a scourge a demon represents.”
The young man hesitated for a moment, wanting to ask a question, but fearing the response.
“Do people often come across these creatures?”
Kezthrem laughed before responding.
“Thankfully, no! They are usually designated as generals and leaders of the army of the God of Evil. Legends recount journeys they’ve made through the Desolate Plains, for who knows what somber purposes. At any rate, they are rarely seen, and they always act with a very precise goal. It is certain that we won’t come across them purely by chance, but only if Baras has decided to push the envelope...”
Glaide decided then to ask another question – one he was itching to ask.
“And how can we fight them?”
“We don’t.”
“But I’ll have to confront them. If I’m really the Destroyer, and I am supposed to be able to destroy Baras, then his demons should be nothing.”
“I respect your enthusiasm, and hope that will be possible. At the end of the day, the only people who could ever hope to take them on would be the disciples of Iretane, since they can use white magic in their weapons, thus greatly reducing the efficacy of their demonic armor.”
As the man spoke those words, Glaide suddenly became certain of one thing: it must have been a demon that had killed the magg of his master. While his face betrayed no emotion, the adolescent could feel that the very mention of white magic was, to the man before him, a source of great suffering. It was as though he were crippled, or even maimed; to be a protector and to have lost his magician – and to have lost her while practicing Iretane – had been like losing a part of his soul.
Glaide felt a deafening anger build in his mind with that realization. He wanted to scream in rage, and to provoke that demon into a duel, so that he could kill whatever creature had committed such a great wrong. He couldn’t bear to see his master suffering, and now, more than ever, he truly wished to be the Destroyer, if only so that he could finally make fear shift into the other camp.
If Kezthrem was aware of the wrath filling his disciple, he said nothing. For the young man, it seemed to take an infinite amount of willpower to force his emotions back in check. He smiled painfully and got up, ending their conversation without protest from Kezthrem.
Glaide went out and lost himself in the forest, paying no attention to his destination. He let his steps guide him, keeping his gaze fixed in the tree tops, which were aglow in the morning light. Finally, he arrived at the spring where he typically washed. He approached the water as it shimmered in the light, sometimes reflecting the sun blindingly, and at other times letting him clearly see to its depths. As he leaned over its calm, immobile surface, he could just make out his own reflection. His features had hollowed out some, and his eyes looked darker, but he could still see his customary look of joy and happiness deep within – the look that had appeared when he’d arrived, five months earlier, and that didn’t seem to ever disappear.
“It’s incredible... I’ve been here nearly half a year already,” he thought to himself. “Most of that time, I’ve spent with my master or on the road. And yet, everything seems so unchanged. No war has begun, no news from my friends has come, and nothing in our lives has really changed. Baras doesn’t seem to have found me, and he’s certainly not acted against me again. How long will it take for this story to come to its end?” He continued in his thoughts, but slowly began to walk again, his thoughts swirling through his mind.
“In just a few months from now, I’ll have finished my training, or at least, the base of it. Then, I’ll have to continue back on the road, and begin a new adventure.” He realized at the same time that, though his time in his master's house had at first seemed boring to him, now, he didn’t feel ready to return to his wandering yet again. Life had been
calm since he’d come here. But he knew that he was not destined to remain in one place, at least not for the time being. He sighed. “When I think about how at the time, my journey to find the master of Iretane seemed to be everything... What an error that was! It was nothing but a small stage in my journey. A crucial one, though... And one I did indeed accomplish.”
Eventually, he returned to the garden of the house. When he arrived there, it was already past noon, and the table was prepared for their lunch. As he approached, one last thought crossed the young man’s mind. “I have changed, though. Everyone changes. I’m wiser, and stronger, and the more time passes, the more real and complete the world of Galadria seems; it no longer seems like some piece of fiction, written to hold me, as the hero...”
The master and the disciple devoured their meal heartily, speaking of everything, and yet nothing. Glaide realized that he now had just one month to prove everything that he’d learned. “Those poor wooden figures won’t stand a chance,” he thought to himself with a smile of determination. And he was right. In the days to come he proved it to be true. After one particularly violent encounter with multiple enemies, he found himself feeling a bit guilty; his master must have spent hours carving out each figure, while he’d reduced them to splinters in just a few minutes. However, he didn’t dwell on those sad thoughts, because of what he saw in the face of his master: joy. The joy of seeing the fruits of his labor, something he proved to Glaide moments later, when he said, “Glaide, you have mastered your weapon, and I can announce today that you do indeed know how to fight.”
The phrase put the adolescent on cloud nine. And his mood could only be improved by the fact that Christmas was approaching!
Chapter 31
ONE morning, Glaide awoke and realized at the same time that the day to give his gift to Kezthrem had finally arrived. He jumped up with a bound and looked out the window. Sunlight filled the plains around them, as always. More shocking, though, was the temperature; it would seem very strange to celebrate Christmas in the midst of this warmth...
Other thoughts soon filled his head, though. First of all, he mentally wished a merry Christmas to his friends, wherever they might be, and to his family. By doing that, though, he found himself falling into old memories, which brought an emotion he never would have thought he could experience: regret. He felt his chest tighten as he imagined his loved ones meeting to exchange their gifts and enjoy the holidays, without even realizing that one member of their group was missing. Each of the celebrations he’d experienced in his own world had been filled with pure happiness. They had been some of the few times that he’d really felt like he belonged there. He imagined their laughter, and their faces, illuminated with their happiness.
He felt plunged into the past, back to the moment just before he’d arrived at the Forest of the Worlds. The emotions and anger of Emily came to his mind. He’d thought he’d understood them at the time, but he understood now that he’d been far from able to image what she’d felt. No, only moments like the one he was experiencing now could give Glaide a glimpse of the despair that his friends had felt when they’d arrived. Rebuilding their lives would not end when the battle against Baras was over; that would be the easiest part, since destiny itself was guiding them in their path. By contrast, however, once he was destroyed, they would have to make their own decisions, and move forward on their own. His mind returned to that earlier question: how could his family have forgotten him completely? Didn’t anyone ever feel like they might be missing someone at the table? But no...
“No one does...” he murmured to himself.
In a sudden moment of clarity, he found himself forced to admit that the courage his friends had shown in accepting their fate had been much greater than his own. It was incredibly lucky that he’d seen things as he did, because if that hadn’t been the case, and had he seen Galadria back then the way he saw it all at this moment, he wasn’t sure he would have come...
He sighed, then moved to open the panels and let in the fresh, morning air. The magnificent countryside surrounding him, and the gentle breeze that blew, cleared his mind. He again felt his excitement at being there take over. He turned around, then dug through his belongings to find the gift. Once he found it, he quickly looked it over to make sure that the packaging remained undamaged, then he headed down the stairs, with the object hidden behind his back. Glaide expected to find his master in the dojo, but he wasn’t there. Then, he searched the garden, but seeing no one, he returned to the house to look there more thoroughly. However, Kezthrem was nowhere to be found. “What’s going on now, then?” the adolescent asked himself. Finally, he decided to head towards the entrance. From there, he had a good view of their surroundings, and he soon spotted a silhouette heading in his direction. He soon recognized his master, though instead of his usual kimono, he wore traveling clothes that were thicker and more durable.
“Where were you?” exclaimed Glaide, as the man slowly climbed up towards him.
“Do you know what day it is?” Kezthrem demanded instead of responding. Glaide didn’t know how Christmas could possibly be a thing here, so he assumed his master must be referring to something he knew nothing about. He shook his head.
“The twenty-fifth of December was the day that Dzen and Novak defeated Baras, five hundred years ago. On this day, it is traditional to visit those who have passed away, and there are great celebrations throughout the Known Lands.”
“He must have gone to visit his magg, then,” Glaide concluded to himself. Then out loud, he exclaimed, “In that case, we should visit the village. And of course, the cemetery, where the inhabitants of Rackk are buried.”
“Exactly,” replied the man. “Run up and change.” The young man dashed up the stairs, deciding to offer his gift when he got back down.
“Master,” he said, when he rejoined the man in the entryway, “in my world, today is also a special day. It is a bit complicated to explain, but traditionally, we offer each other gifts, and we have celebrations as well. We call it Christmas. I didn’t know that it was also an important day here, but according to the traditions of my world, I bought you a gift...” With that, Glaide offered his gift to the man. His master looked at it incredulously for a moment, though he finally accepted it.
“Your education will always remain the most unusual of any I’ve given,” he declared with a smile. The young man smiled back as the older man carefully and gently undid the wrapping and drew out the knife. Its blade glinted in the sun. He said nothing, but his face was filled with joy. His dark eyes lit up as he looked at the sharp blade and the ornate handle.
“I thought it might be useful for carving your shakuhachis, or perhaps in the kitchen, for cutting meat, in the worst case scenario...”
The man’s gaze shifted to Glaide, and he responded with a simple phrase:
“Thank you.” With that, he disappeared into the house, returning a few moments later with a small sheath that was the perfect size for the blade. He attached it to his belt with a small leather strap.
“And it fits perfectly! You rocked it, Glaide,” the boy thought, congratulating himself silently.
Then, the two headed towards the village.
The day was a joyful one; when the master and his disciple were still several hundred yards from the village, they could already hear cheerful cries, and as they approached the commons, they found a great buzz of activity. An enormous fire burned in the center of the commons, and on it, whole pigs and chickens turning slowly on their spits and great metal pots of soup gave off a delicious aroma. Tables had been placed around the fire; there were enough to seat the entire village, with plenty of extra room for guests! However, no one had yet taken a seat; instead, children dashed about, crying out with joy and excitement, while their parents stood around watching, amused looks on their faces.
Glaide drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the delightful scents around him. Kezthrem, standing beside him, seemed to have dropped his usual cool and distant dem
eanor, instead wearing an amicable smile, which softened his features. The two knew, however, that it was not yet time to eat, or to celebrate. First, everyone would visit the graves of their friends and dear relatives. And the master and his disciple intended to do exactly that. Two horses were offered to them, to speed them along on the short journey to reach the cemetery where Uziere was interred.
This proved an excellent opportunity for Glaide to learn how to mount a horse, which he did, though not without difficulty. However, when Kezthrem showed an interest in moving faster, the younger man vetoed the idea. As was his habit, the older man didn’t debate the issue. He simply slowed his mount to fall behind his student, then swatted the horse’s rear with the flat side of his blade. With a neigh of surprise, the horse took off at a gallop. Glaide pulled at his reins, then seeing that it was futile, clung desperately instead to the animal’s mane. Luckily, he had to do nothing to direct his horse. His master took the lead, and Glaide’s horse simply followed.
They finally reached the cemetery after what seemed like an infinite amount of time to the adolescent. There, he instinctively yanked again at the reins, perhaps a bit to hard, since he was all nerves at that point, trying once more to stop the animal. The horse shook its head and gave out a snort in protest, but stopped without any other complaint. The boy awkwardly dismounted, while his master dropped to the ground gracefully, and with an agile bound. The animals headed to a patch of nearby grass to graze.
Without waiting for his disciple, the older man quickly climbed the slope leading to the graves. The gypsies had completed additional work on the cemetery since Glaide had last been there; where before, the cemetery had been simply marked by the mounds of dirt, now stones stood to mark the majority of the graves – proper tombstones, carved simply from grey rock. The graves of Uziere and Drekhor were marked with extra care, their stones being carefully sculpted rather than just carved into a simple shape.
Chronicles of Galadria II - Encounters Page 23
