by John March
“A payment from Lord Muro,” Fla said, throwing the bags of coins he'd had from Brack onto the table.
He turned and left without saying anything else. The old man's words still seemed to hang in the air as the door slammed shut behind him.
Fla limped away, no longer caring what either Brack or Orim wanted from him.
Alobria
THE SMALL PARTY of travellers stood on the brow of a low ridge, looking down a gentle slope onto open woodland. Widely spaced trees, each dozens of paces high with trunks at least eight or nine paces across, stretched out before them as far as their eyes could see. The air seemed to glow with vitality, and breathing it made Ebryn feel like he'd drunk a glass or three of fine wine.
A distance behind them, a low rocky promontory rose a few paces above the line of the ridge, and beyond that, more trees like those in front of them. Over the sounds of a morning woodland he could hear running water, and the rush of a low waterfall.
This journey had taken them far from Vergence, to a place called Alobria, on the very edge of the ephemeral planes.
Cormer had switched the training groups around again after their last lesson, placing Ebryn and Addae with the other two most skilled apprentices, a young woman called Railey, and a selerian called Kulut.
Railey had a small frame, standing no taller than Brydeline, with long hair so dark it hinted at blue in the light, and a determined expression.
Kulut was nearly the same height, very big for a selerian. When he stood still, he held the end of his tail with his middle pair of hands, and groomed incessantly with his upper hands. He'd worried the lower half of his tail so much Ebryn could see bald patches where his fur had worn away entirely.
“It's beautiful,” Railey said.
“Like my home, the Mahambi forest in Muruon,” Kulut said, standing up on his hind legs.
Ebryn could see Cormer and Brydeline, who must have visited many times before, were affected by the splendour of the place too.
Turning slowly in a circle to take in the view, Ebryn realised the disadvantage of practising with the Hemetuen. Although they travelled widely, they seldom stayed in any one place long enough to satisfy his curiosity, his desire to explore, and to learn about the place in any depth.
Tenlier hadn't been so wrong about his temperament, bringing him into the Genestuer order.
“A short time to explore,” Cormer said, as if reading his thoughts, “and we'll need to return to Vergence.”
The small party spread out as they made their way down the slope towards the edge of the woods. Addae walked with Kulut, almost comical in their size difference. Ebryn couldn't imagine what they'd found to talk about. He made a mental note to himself to find out later.
He realised he'd started to feel about selerians much as most villagers in Goresyn felt about the furbeg. All the selerians he'd met so far had been rude, or what Fidela would have called scoundrels.
Ebryn stopped in front of one of the trees, stretching his head back to see up into the higher branches. The tree had broad leaves and fine bark the colour of yellow honey. A tree like none he'd seen before, almost perfect, as if every other tree had borrowed its form imperfectly from this one.
A shower of bright lights fell from the branches as Brydeline approached. They stood under the eves, surrounded for a few moments by scores of tiny winged creatures, each glowing like a small yellow-green sun.
The swarm quickly dispersed, returning to the cover of the lower leaves above, but one of the flyers stayed with them as they moved along the line of the wood. Ebryn had an indefinable sense that eyes followed them too, as if they were being watched from all sides by things they couldn't see.
“What are they?” Ebryn asked.
“These?” Brydeline nodded at the one buzzing around their heads. “I don't recall their name, but they share many of the characteristics of ephemeral were-light.”
She summoned a small were-light next to the creature hovering above them. The were-light was almost exactly the same yellow-green colour and, aside from the more obvious form of the flier and the set of fine wings they appeared almost identical.
“They are similar to look at, but this is something you can feel with your other sense better than you can see with your eyes.”
Startled by the appearance of Brydeline's floating light, the remaining flyer darted away. Reflexively, Ebryn reached out in his mind with a command to stop and return, sending it a strong desire to come back to him. Like the echoing sound of a stone dropped innocently into a cavern pond, his command amplified, and rippled outwards in every direction. And he felt the entire world respond, as if every living thing felt the command. For a moment even the trees seemed to bend towards him, and the woodland came alive before them — filled with movement.
“What did you do?” Brydeline asked. “I felt no casting.”
“Nothing. I wanted it to return, to come closer. It's something I've always been able to do — to have animals do whatever I want.”
Cormer and Brydeline exchanged a look.
“And plants?” Cormer asked, looking back along the sloping ground behind the students, to where a moss-covered pile of large stones lay piled beneath a solitary tree. One of the flatter rocks moved, as if forced upwards from beneath.
“How much control?” Brydeline asked.
The glowing flyers returned in greater numbers, bringing a dozen different kinds of birds with them — tiny, brightly coloured things darting, and hovering on wings which moved so fast they appeared as no more than a blur to Ebryn's eyes.
Beyond them, other animals ventured from the woods, few like anything he'd seen before — a tiny fawn, walking upright, with very small forelimbs, standing barely above his knee. A thing snuffling along the ground, like a hedgehog covered in short leafy branches.
In moments they were surrounded, crowded in on all sides by so many different types of creatures Ebryn couldn't distinguish how many there might be. They all pressed close, staring silently at him, or flew in tight spirals, weaving amongst the members of their group. Ever-shifting beings of dewy mist, drifting between the huddling ranks. Hunched up moles the size of dogs, and shrew-like animals as big as mules with narrow snouts as long as his arm upturned to sample the air.
Ebryn could feel Addae and Railey standing completely still next to him, watching the bizarre collection of creatures grow.
With a scraping and a soft thump, the large stone under the tree came free, sliding down the rocky face to softer ground at the foot of the slope. A monstrous thing, like a huge living knot of tangled roots, pushed its way free of the opening the stone had covered. Another followed, and another, until a dozen lumbered towards the gathering, each as large as a horse.
“What are they?” Ebryn asked.
“Churlwood,” Cormer said.
“An underground dwelling kin of these,” Brydeline said, nodding in the other direction to where even larger creatures approached. “They are called gnarlwood.”
The gnarlwoods looked like scores of tree knots jammed together into a roughly Volene shape, with two obvious legs, and powerful arms. They were gigantic, the smallest more than twice his own height, even taller than a cheg standing upright.
Addae's hand went to the blade on his belt.
Cormer held out a restraining hand. “Both kinds are peaceful unless provoked.”
True to his word, the huge new arrivals stopped beyond the expanding circle of smaller creatures, although from the corner of his eye Ebryn noticed a look of relief pass briefly over Brydeline's face.
“You are unusual, Ebryn,” she said, giving him a quizzical look. “You seem to have an inborn affinity for this realm, I'd guess for the entire taxonomy of Alobric realms, and very powerful too. Casting is a gift given to few, and deep affinities are the same. You could have an affinity without a touch of power in you. To possess both strongly is rare, and used to be highly sought after amongst the Exemetuer—”
“Bryn—” Cormer said in a sharp t
one.
“He should know, Cormer … the Exemetuer were an order which studied and taught true summoning. The order, as you may know, was broken up and true summoning banned. Too dangerous for the caster, and too dangerous for the city.”
“Yes, I've heard of the Exemetuer, and I know true summoning is banned,” Ebryn said.
“Yet from time to time we still have apprentices who discover they have an affinity, and risk their lives summoning something or other,” Cormer said.
“Cormer is right.” Brydeline said. “Summoning is much more dangerous than what we do here in the Hemetuen. Yet—”
Brydeline fell silent as the gnarlwoods and half the antler men moved aside to form a corridor. A woman came towards them, stepping into view from behind a clump of trees.
She approached walking at an unhurried pace, bare feet leaving no impression on the moss as she passed, yet the ground seemed to tremble under her with each step. All the while her unblinking eyes remained fixed on Ebryn.
Clad in a calf-length dark green dress which rustled like leaves as she moved, a warming breeze at her back brought with it a scent of rich earth and flowers. Strands of her long hair, in hues of rich yellow and copper, drifted around her shoulders, blowing up across her face as the wind shifted direction.
“Hold very still,” Cormer said. He spoke so quietly Ebryn could barely make out his words. “I may be mistaken, but I think she may be an archon.”
Railey stepped backwards, into the midst of their small band. “What's an—”
“Shh,” Brydeline said.
As the woman came nearer Ebryn realised she stood about his height, taller than most men. She stopped close, and examined him. Deep green eyes tracing his features, almost as if looking for something hidden within the contours of his face.
Her face was heart shaped and flawless, with skin smoother than polished wood, every visible part patterned with a faint whorl like a fine grain. The air around her felt sharp, as if sparkling with new life, like a rain freshened field.
After what felt like an age, but which couldn't have been more than a moment or two, she said something in a language he didn't recognise.
Tilting her head to one side, she reached out, and touched Ebryn lightly on the cheek before turning away.
The horde of creatures surrounding them turned and fell in behind her like a retinue, the larger ones blocking her from view in moments. As the procession moved out of sight, weaving between the sturdy tree trunks, Cormer let out his breath.
Ebryn turned to him. “Do you know what she said?”
“I can't say for certain. She greeted you in a familiar form.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Cormer said, “she used a word for something like brother, or cousin.”
Ebryn laughed, but stopped when he saw the look on Brydeline's face. The same half fearful look he'd had from others when he folded the sevyric iron in his entrance test, and healed perfectly from broken bones.
“I think we should return now,” Brydeline said. “An affinity as strong as yours may be dangerous in a world like this.”
Affinity
EBRYN RETURNED to his lessons with Ben-gan the next day, feeling like he'd been filled with pure light. He found Ben-gan sitting at a table, playing a game of drake and ducks with Hoi. Ben-gan held one of the duck pieces in his hand, examining the board carefully. There weren’t many duck pieces left on the board, so it looked like Hoi was winning.
Ben-gan looked up, his mouth curled into a half smile. “I think master Hella is beating me. I play better as the drake.”
Ebryn sat and watched as Hoi captured Ben-gan's remaining pieces. Ben-gan played to the end, even when it was clear he was certain to lose, forcing Hoi to work for the victory.
As they reset the board Sevoi sauntered into the room, accompanied by Tuk-myrr.
“Ah … how is our young prodigy. Here by yourself today? No young ladies?” Sevoi said, watching Ebryn for a reaction out of the corner of his eye.
“Now, now, Sevoi,” Ben-gan said. “I think we should all try to get along as friends.”
“But would a true friend allow me to continue suffering such an indignity as this?” Sevoi asked, waving one of his sevyric bands in front of Ebryn.
“And a true friend wouldn't trouble Ebryn for such a thing,” Ben-gan said.
Sevoi sighed elaborately, and clinked his bands together. “I promise you, friend, remove these, and I'll never trouble you for anything again.”
Ben-gan frowned. “Come, Ebryn, let us find somewhere quieter for you to resume your studies.”
Half-way across the reading room Ben-gan paused, and gave Ebryn a penetrating look. “I think your journey to Alobria has changed you.”
Ebryn nodded. “I discovered a strong affinity.”
“Tell me about it as we walk,” Ben-gan said, glancing back at where Hoi and Sevoi sat.
Ebryn briefly described his visit to Alobria as they moved between the shelves, and finished with the warning he'd had from Cormer about the risks of summoning.
Ben-gan pulled a face. “I think there is little risk for those with a powerful affinity, other than arrest by the Vergence authorities. Only by overreaching will such a caster be in danger.”
“How would you overreach?” Ebryn asked.
“By summoning an archon or prince of an ephemeral plane. In the days of Volane no more than one or two were discovered in each generation, with an affinity powerful enough to command a prince, and then never with certainty. And going back a thousand years, since the rise of Volane, there were no more than you could count on the fingers of one hand who could hope to even influence an archon.”
“What's an archon?” Ebryn asked.
“Most of the ephemeral planes and many of the boundary worlds, such as the Alobric you visited yesterday, have a single ruler, or a set of rulers. These are beings of such power they might easily be mistaken for some of the gods our many religions hold dear.”
“Gods?”
“Yes,” Ben-gan said. “I think you can see how the temptation might be too much for a young caster, full of youthful ambition. Even now, an overconfident apprentice will attempt such a summoning every few years.
“On the rare occasions they are successful, most are found dead in some unpleasant manner, or disappear. Archons and princes of the ephemera do not enjoy being summoned, and most return to their homes taking part, or perhaps all, of the unfortunate summoner with them.”
Ebryn imagined being seized by something as great as one of the seven living virtues, worshipped in Fyrenar.
“I see,” he said.
“I think Cormer exaggerates the risk. He has a good heart, and no doubt his intentions are good, but for one with a strong affinity there is little danger in modest summoning.
“As with many aspects of our art, the key rests in sound knowledge. Most mishaps, I think, spring from poor understanding coupled with the temptation of overreaching — bringing a too powerful entity, or mistakenly fetching something beyond the caster's control.
“Naturally, you should not practise summoning while in Vergence, except under the direst circumstances—”
“We already have sufficient librarians,” Ebryn said.
Ben-gan laughed softly. “Yes, exactly so.”
Ebryn realised they were heading into an unfamiliar part of the library. “Where are we going?”
“To learn about your affinity. Your gift is rare and should be nurtured, and to grow your gift you need practice and—”
“Knowledge,” Ebryn said.
“That's right.”
Ebryn followed Ben-gan through a complicated sequence of turns, wondering as he did so how the man managed, even with years of familiarity behind him, to recall the layout of the library in such detail. It also occurred to him Ben-gan had just finished telling him all the reasons he should not be learning from the section of the library he was leading him to.
“If summoning is so dangerous
, and also banned, what is the point of growing my affinity?” Ebryn asked.
“I think this is a good question,” Ben-gan said. “There are four good reasons. Firstly, I would say knowledge is never wasted in our art, you never know when some seeming trivia will turn out to be the very thing you later need. Secondly, this gift will stand you well should you ever have dealings with such creatures — but here we are, see for yourself.”
They turned a corner, and Ebryn found himself in another of those strange little corners that seemed to be scattered in odd places around the library. In the centre of the space was a cabinet, as broad and wide as a table, and tall enough to read at standing up. The books on the shelves facing into this secluded space were, almost without exception, very large, and thick through the middle.
Ben-gan made for a shelf without pausing, and heaved a couple of the largest books onto the top of the cabinet. The bindings were heavy and exceptionally well made — the books were amongst the finest Ebryn had ever seen. One was inscribed The Beasts And Spirits Of Ebror and the other The Beasts And Spirits Of Arbror. Both had the name 'Elimora' on the cover, and looking round Ebryn could see many more, possibly hundreds, on the surrounding shelves had the same name.
Ben-gan opened one and ran his hand down a page. “These are bestiaries of sorts, but far more useful I think.”
“They're amazing,” Ebryn said, examining the fine line drawings and detailed descriptions. “Did one person manage to do all these?”
“Elimora, yes,” Ben-gan said. “He started in the Hemetuen when Vergence was still part of Volane, but became fascinated, and then obsessed, with the Alobric planes. He spent the rest of his life creating these works to record what he found there.”
“So what are the other two reasons I should study these?” Ebryn asked.
Ben-gan smiled. “The third reason? The third reason is you need the knowledge to distinguish between those which are of the type associated with your affinities taxa, and those, which while seemingly similar, are partially or entirely different. I think you have already discovered beings you thought to influence, expected you could, but over which your affinity had no power.”
