CLOAK - Lost Son of the Crested Folk (The Wish trilogy)

by Russell Thomson

  The city I left behind was dead, as far as I know it has been left to crumble. I had not seen my own face in flat water or a mirror so I could only guess how my crest was developing. I had some idea that I was high crest and it worried me a little that I would not be offered a prenticeship unless I somehow was able to submit myself for sale at a cresting auction.

  I walked west. The road was near deserted and those folk I did see I avoided; hiding in the verge or sheltering in the trees until they passed. I trusted no one. After several days of walking I found a trappers hut, I don’t think it was truly abandoned but I was growing desperate and had eaten nothing for three days so I broke in. I searched every nook and cranny but there was nothing there.

  I had no pen or lead or paper so could not record the details of the hut as I had done for the temple. For the first time I was forced to use only my eyes to paint a mental picture of the place. I intended to return to the temple, pick up the last jar of honey and wish walk back to the hut. I knew if I got this wrong I would end up back where I began so my attention to detail had to be perfect; each floor board, the crack in the glass the way the sackcloth drapes hung, the peeling bark on the wall timbers and even my own footprints in the dust. It worked. It was there that I first devised the use of visual triggers. I carved three high glyphs, one on the floor, one to the north wall and one to the east wall. With over thirty worshipful glyphs, the permutations are immense...............’

  ‘So that’s how you do it,’ interrupted Cloak.

  Needle raised an admonishing finger. ‘Quiet boy, I’m not finished, and ‘no’, there’s a lot more to it than just the glyphs. So..........I ended up in the town of Fleet Bough, it’s a bustling canal town just off the edge of the Great Plain at the junction of the Arrow West and Flatwater Ramp canals. Much as I would have wished to return again and again to the temple, I knew the larder there was now empty and with winter approaching I knew I either needed to earn coin or seek charity.

  Fleet Bough was a prosperous town, it felt safe. I sought an audience with the Steward of the Scripture Sect Hall, I hoped they would prentice me, take me on without me being presented at auction. I knew it was against the law but I reckoned that this far from any city of note, an extra set of hands would be welcomed. I was fortunate, I told the truth about where I came from, what had happened to the city, to me, the mobs and the dead. I said nothing about my talent but when they tested my skills with script and my ability to render in detail, they agreed to prentice me………. I stayed for five years. If I am honest, it was a happier time than my childhood. The winters were harsh, the summers dry, the canals smelled and the dust from the fields when they were harvested caked your lips. I fell in love, had my heart broken more than once and was betrothed…………but to my regret I never did marry.

  Out on the plains, the festival you call the Ceremony of Thankfulness was called the Feast of God’s Providence, it lasted a week and was a time of bounty and good humour. I had missed the ceremony on the year of my arrival and only became aware later that every six years the High Lord and his retinue arrived on a barge to ‘partake in the festivities’ and give his blessing to the various High Sects for their efforts…………particularly the Cornerstone Sect for their efforts in collecting taxes. The High Lord was called Blue Fire Hammer, he’s long dead now but in his day he was a well respected Lord of the Inner Circle. He brought with him his High Guild Masters, their crests were to my eyes all unique and lordly. He also brought with him high charms and wards, one of which I later found out to be a Palette Stone. Only a few high lords have one but the one he wore was special, one of only three in existence, very ancient and very powerful.’

  Needle raised an arm. ‘Master Cliff, what’s a Palette Stone?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Needle knowingly, ‘the purpose of a palette stone my boy, is to make majic visible. Some low palettes only illuminate static majics like ward lines, some others illuminate charm or wards worn by others. Higher charms will do both, but the best, will also illuminate a person’s ability to draw and cast majic, useful if you wished to keep a black assassin mage at bay.’

  Cloak interrupted again. ‘So his charm detected your majic?’

  ‘As I said, it was a powerful charm. More so because the stone that Lord Hammer wore had a rare power that even he did not know existed, an ability to sense ‘latent’ majics including ‘un-natural’ majics, crested folk with hidden talents. Every other Palette Stone I have seen looked no brighter than a polished river stone, plain and grey. Lord Hammer’s charm was just as dull but in the presence of latent majic, it glowed with the colour of the hidden stream.

  When High Lord Hammer attended the Scripture Sect Tower to partake and celebrate, I sat at a lowly table near the back of the great hall with the other senior prentices. Lord Hammer left early, complaining about a head ache from the flickering lamp light. I thought it was an excuse for drinking too much wine but what I found out in later years was that the glow of majic he saw around me was so bright it stung his eyes and nipped his brain. Old and travelled as he was, he had never ever seen white majic before……………………..I heard later that the old dastard almost pissed his pants and near died of a heart attack.’ Needle snorted a laugh. ‘That off course would have been a pity because this was a fateful night, a night that turned my path towards the capital and my eventual life of service to the king. Anyway, let me continue.’

  ‘I was called to an audience, I was told the High Lord had asked to see me, to examine and praise my script and illustrations. He was alone, no guard, no chancellors, no high sword or witness. He winced when I entered the room and he squinted at me as if the sun were at my back. I saw him lay the stone aside and his face brightened. We drank chilled tea and ate dried fruit and sugar almond paste. I thought he was a very pleasant man, he had a wonderful crest, high physic but with a touch of warrior. He was complimentary about my work and told me my masters were in praise of me, as much my attention to duty as my attention to detail. I was flattered. He offered me a position in his own guild, a further two years prenticeship, searching out, surveying and illustrating the ancient sites of war and worship, far to the south along the route of the old Falcon Road. I was in no position to refuse so I avowed myself to him and accepted his coin.’ Needle raised a wrinkled hand and pulled back his sleeve. ‘If you look hard at my palm and wrist you can just see the faintest lines of his High House tattoo.’ Cloak strained his eyes and even though he could see nothing but blue veins and blotched skin he nodded politely.

  ‘Lord Hammer knew I was special but never truly knew the depth of my talent. He did not fully trust the stone and presumed the white glow the stone revealed was just some peculiarity, a flaw in his own perception or a quirk. To him, this was logical because the book of God and King and every ancient text on majic asserted that no one could draw on the white. He never questioned me about it and I stayed silent. I had not wish walked for some time and my confidence in my own secret talent slowly waned. My life was good, my mapmaking skills, my precision and presentation won me praise and coin. Lord Hammer had some of my best works copied, shallow reproductions but still far better than most other high lords possessed. He sold some original works for high amounts of coin and if enough was offered, he would even sell my services for the creation of an original.

  In the winter of Quince 975 we travelled to the King’s Capital, we had heard rumours that Lord Hammer had been ‘summoned’ but he kept his bearing and made out that his visit was a matter of state. However, it transpired that despite the coin he earned from my works, my lord’s debt was high and his credit low. The old fool had forged documents and had granted rights to land gifted under trust from the king’s father to his grandfather. The original title however was subject to redemption if the land was ever transferred, a fact that, with the passage of time, Lord Hammer had conveniently managed to forget. To make matters worse, it transpired the poor old fool had forged the signature of the king, a crime serious enough to lose him his c
rest.

  When he was brought forth to face the Inner Court of High Lords he found Prince Soar chairing proceedings. Fearing the worst Lord Hammer sought to plea in private chambers. When he returned, he announced he had been admonished and pardoned, but in truth the old dastard had ‘bought’ his freedom.’ Needle paused to ease an ache in his rump, standing in his stirrups before farting loudly. ‘I awoke the next day on the floor of the Sanctum of the Moon deep within the King’s Keep. It’s a doorless chamber, heavily warded and entered using a mental password. It cannot be spied upon and normally only the king can grant entry……….and determine who leaves, but as King Torrent was away on Sharp’s Cough, Soar acted in his place. The house tattoo of Blue Fire Hammer had been erased from my hand and now, from elbow to armpit I carried the mark of Prince Soar. I near shat myself. The High Priest Royal together with his inner coven visited me. I did not know who they were at that time, all I remember is standing there trying not to fart with fright. The High Priest Royal took out Lord Hammer’s Palette Stone and passed it between the others. Each and every one averted their gaze to avoid the white light that shone from me and when they were all done, they merely nodded to each other, turned and left. I don’t remember lying down to sleep but when I awoke again the Prince Soar was standing over me. I kneeled and put my head to the floor and waited.’

  ‘He has a charm that was won in battle against the Southlanders many centuries ago. He just called it the Troll Charm because essentially that’s what it was, glyphs etched onto strips of Troll hide woven together into a small patch the size of your palm. It’s similar in some way to a spell called the Weaver’s Touch but that does not do it justice. This one not only let the bearer touch the true feelings of others, sense their fears and joys and sense truth from lie, it also let them converse directly to the others mind. Prince Soar kept it hidden, folded up inside a broach. He found listening to the thoughts of others very useful but the charm was also used to converse in silence, mind to mind. Master Smoke and I were often tasked in this way.........it assured privacy and prevented any eavesdropping.’

  Cloak could stay silent no longer, the old man surely lied………….. ‘Master Cliff, pardon my challenge but is this just a tall tale to pass the time or is this just how you tell the truth? I tell you true, up until now I have tried hard to believe you, even the part about tapping into the white but God and King, using woven charms, Troll charms………….impossible, a myth, nothing but a faerie fiction.’

  Needle turned again to face Cloak his expression serious. ‘Take no offense boy, your knowledge merely reflects the structured tutoring you received at the academy, knowledge learnt by rote from old books. Like you, I never believed such a thing existed. Troll charms are like pimples on a virgin’s arse, folk talk about their existence but no one has actually seen them. Nevertheless they do exist.’ Needle adjusted the crotch of his trews and sat back down. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘enough of Troll, back to my tale. Prince Soar had me bonded to him, he summoned one of his Royal Minister to officiate.......... her name was High Lady Paradox Pure Lightcast, very tall and meaty, I was in love with her for years you know. Anyway, there and then, from that day on, I was Soar’s man. As you will know from your history lessons, King Torrent abdicated and Prince Soar was enthroned. I was never short of commissions, I travelled the continent and beyond; sometimes with him, sometimes with the military, sometimes with the script monks and occasionally in secret beyond our own lands. I never wanted for ink or quill or the finest papers. My work was valued, transported back to the capital by eagle or by a king’s runner. In all that time my bond to him was never pulled tight, that was until the summer of Quince 972.

  Out of habit I was still using my glyph codes to log locate and orientate the buildings and features on my maps, I did not look at them as walking beacons of any kind and had never tested my talent with them. When the king recalled me to the capital I thought nothing of it, I had already been given the king’s passphrase and so when I stepped through the portal into the Sanctum of the Moon I was surprised to see all my work lying on the floor and on the dais a ream of paper as well as fresh quills and ink,’ Needle paused for breath. ‘He pulled my bond, wickedly tight, tugging on my conscience and compelling me to be true to him. He told me that the time had come to tap into my true talent and use it to serve the crown. The compulsion of the bond was not necessary, I was his man and I told him everything.

  He tasked me with recording the sanctum, food and water would be provided and I would be allowed out twice a day for my ablutions. It was a most exquisite chamber and the recording of its beauty and detail was a real challenge as well as an honour. It took me over six weeks to complete, I knew the detail and could visualise every small part of it but when I completed my task, I knew in my heart what awaited me, the challenge the king had for me, a challenge that I had no confidence I could complete.

  The king had chosen three marks, all of them buildings I had surveyed in my trek across the lands. The first was in the village of Horse Pullover about a mile from the capital’s new ferry port, a spindly tower called The Chute. It had once been used to espy approaching ships, but when the river silted up it fell out of use. My marks were in the observatory at the very top on the tower, carved on a large flat stone that was once used for mounting a large grow glass. The second was farther afield, Snow Vow, do you know it? A god forsaken hole next to Goose Foot Fort; cold in summer, colder in winter and a place where the cheap women have no teeth. It’s a high peak fort town guarding a gold mine. On the edge of town there is a stone bridge and below the bridge is a weir……..only there’s no river there any more, the waters had been diverted many years ago for the mine works. Snow Vow is about a hundred or more miles northwest of the King’s Capital but its high up in the peaks and the snow never seems to melt even in high summer. The third was an island called Sharp’s Cough. It had once been a fine royal sanctuary, but as there is no harbour for a ship to berth in, no cove for a dory to use and unless you are willing to climb two hundred feet of smooth rock covered in slimy bird shit the only other way in is by eagle. They chose the later to convey me,’ said Needle in disgust, ‘and I’ll tell you this for free boy, I’d rather have stayed on the island than travel back to the ship by eagle.’ Needle paused. ‘Where was I, oh yes I remember. Once you’re on the island its fine enough, it’s large, over a league wide at the narrowest point and nearly three leagues long, there is water and fruit and small game, open ground for planting up and a grand tower house with an inside chamber for ablutions…………I would have been fine there. Sharps Cough is in the middle of the Black Shame Sea, south and west of the continent by some hundred miles. That makes it nearly three hundred miles from the capital.

  Every point on the map the king chose corresponded with my markers, he asked me if I recalled the places well, if I wished to consult with my maps, plans and renderings. Then he told me to visit them one by one and retrieve an object placed at each chosen point. I could not lie to him, I told him I was scared, that I had no confidence in my ability. When he tightened his bond I pleaded with him to ease it, I promised him that that I told the truth and that I was not being disrespectful or disobedient. He left me, said I would not be released from the chamber until I had completed my tasks, told me I would die here because he could not let me live free.

  By the time the king returned, possibly no more than four hours later, all three objects lay on the dais, three small crystal spheres engraved with stars. It’s the one and only time I have seen the king speechless, generally you couldn’t get the old dastard’s to stop talking.’

  ‘God and King,’ said Cloak in awe.

  ‘That was the just the beginning. Over the next year I was tested and re-tested, I journeyed with ciphers, I was sent to seek out and retrieve messages, I even carried treasures and gold to pay far flung garrisons. However, as far as the members of his inner court were concerned, I was the king’s map maker, I would be sent out to map some obelisk or some boundar
y, maybe a journey or task that would take a month or more to complete if you included the time to travel. What I actually did was quite different. The Chute became my beacon, it was only twenty miles from the capital, far enough to put me out of sight and out of mind but close enough not to waste precious time. Our secret lasted nearly two years, then, for the first time his majesty tested my talent further. Living beings. First a mouse, then a rabbit and then a dog. It’s difficult to describe the pain, in fact, I find it hard even now to recall the pain without wanting to cower and break into a sweat. It was as if your bones had turned to liquid, your blood ran like hot acid, your head spun like a top and your belly heaved. You collapse in a heap, lie in agony on the floor and cover yourself in puke…………..I might also add that you generally wished you were dead.

  All the animals died. This was a problem because testing on human volunteers presumed firstly that the king was willing to share his secret and secondly that the poor sod was willing to attempt it knowing they could die in agony. We used slaves, a few lived but most died and of those who lived, we could not work out why. That’s when the king introduced me to Smoke…………he was a smug little shit back then and still is.

  The king did not initially tell me what position Smoke held in his service, only that he conveyed the king’s messages, that he was skilled in finding people and was talented at what he did. I’ll give him his due, he was brave, me, I was a wreck and if truth be told it was my own fear of the acid pain that slowed progress. It is obvious that we succeeded because clear he did not die…………..but, we had to walk a score or more times before Smoke resolved what to do. You see, although some of our early walks almost crippled us both, some were better than others. The pain still dropped us to our knees and we still emptied our bellies but it was bearable. Once however, about the tenth time, we walked to The Chute, we emerged on the stone slab with only a hot tingling in our limbs. We thought we had cracked it………needless to say our optimism was ill placed and our return journey to the Sanctum of the Moon was probably the most painful return we ever had.’