Wings of Light Special Edition

by Lloyd Baron

  The room flickers over and over as the sun races around the room. The window is bright then black then bright then black over and over. Darwin’t smiles to himself. It is so easy to do. All he is really doing is thinking of days passing. He wonders how far ahead he has made it when a man suddenly appears in the doorway. He is tall and regal looking, with powerful penetrating black eyes and an oiled beard. He wears a heavy red silk coat with gold embroidery up the sleeves. He stares coldly at Halk’sha as he bounds into the room.

  “We must wake,” the Dark Clan says. “Simply desire to wake up and you will. Do it now, child!” Fire blazes down the Dark Clan’s arms and into his palms. “I can hold this figment back while you wa…

  Halk’sha vanishes mid-sentence, the spots over Darwin’t’s vision where the fire had been the only sign that he had been there at all. The man stops half-way between the door and Darwin’t and appraises him with a harsh smile. “You think you have what it takes? You could never do what is needed!”

  Darwin’t steps backwards. That voice. He has heard it somewhere before. He opens his eyes wide as he remembers. “Wh… who are you?” he stutters. The man sighs and turns to the window and the flickering light coming through.

  “You are almost at the end. I would stop, before the world burns away.” As he speaks Darwin’t realizes that he is still moving the sun and he stops. The room is plunged into darkness. He despairs and launches himself backwards, catching his boot on something. He tumbles to the floor. “You will need me. Give in and join with me, or else!” The room lights up as the sun returns; however it does not have the warm golden glow it should have. Darwin’t scrambles to his feet and pulls back the thick curtains. He gasps at the forest outside… or the lack of forest. As far as his eyes can see there is nothing but fire. Everything is burning. “That is how it ends,” the man says, grabbing Darwin’t by the shoulders. “Give in!”

  Darwin’t screams as he opens his eyes, to find Halk’sha kneeling over him. The Dark Clan smiles—it is definitely a smile—and helps him to his feet. “You moved the sun very far. I will teach you how to read dreams soon.” The man helps him sit upon the bed and he lowers himself down beside him. “I am puzzled as to how a dream got into your mind after you drank so much of the root.”

  “It was not a dream,” Darwin’t mutters in a shaky voice. His heart is beating too fast, but he can still see the world burning. “It was me.”

  31

  A WEEK in GALVALOU

  Two days she had been listening to different Dark Clan talk about her, as if she was not seated there right in front of them. Two days of being prodded and poked at and pulled around; even magic has been used and she was unhappy about that. They had not even asked.

  The sun was barely up when Trelma’tia and Grind’iv came to her small room and woke her. Canace had begun wishing she had not agreed to this. At first she had been excited about having a gift like the others; but not even an hour into the probing she was regretting it. What made things worse was the fact that without emotions the Dark Clan tried to make her do things that made her blush or become angry, and they never understood why.

  However, the two that came for her today, are different. She has grown to like Trelma’tia a lot, and he seems to like her, in his own way. He is always smiling, and it seems natural. He laughs and sometimes tells old jokes that he finds amusing. She knows that it is all pretend for her sake. Nevertheless it still makes her giggle and relaxed, which she is grateful for. Grind’iv is completely different. He has little care for learning about the outside world and so has no facial expressions at all. His dark eyes look permanently lidded and sleepy and he has a habit of sniffing rather than giving a reply if he thinks it is irrelevant. It is just that both of them together work well: Trelma’tia puts her at ease while Grind’iv asks her difficult questions and does the tests. If she did not know better she would have said they were in love, but that is a silly notion. They just seem to like each other and they are always together, and the only time Grind’iv had tried to smile was for Trelma’tia and not for Canace. Why would he do that if there was not something between the two of them? But then again neither of them have the capacity or understanding to love or even be friends, so it is more likely her own fancies.

  She sits in a hard ladder-backed chair in the middle of large hall. The windows are all curtained to keep the room dark, and only the light from a few candles scattered on the floor near her feet illuminate the space. Even with the smiling Dark Clan sitting in a similar chair beside her, she is frightened. They had not explained what they had planned for her today, just that she was to sit within this large shadowed room and wait. Almost as if acting on an unheard signal Trelma’tia sweeps from his chair and vanishes into the gloom. She is about to ask him where he is going when the candles splutter and go out. She almost screams, almost.

  “Tralma’tia? I don’t like this!” She casts her head around nervously trying to make her eyes adjust to the looming darkness. The shape of the chair besides her slowly begins to reveal itself but only as a dark mass within the even greater darkness. What is this all about? Why are they doing this to me? The thought is only just forming when from the far side of the room a large fire ignites and casts a sickly orange glow around the room. Her heart leaps into her throat and she springs from the chair. The fire moves, swirling like ripples on the surface of a pond before parting into two streams to flood all about her. She actually screams then and in that instant the fire is gone and the curtains tear open. The room floods with beautiful sunlight and she finds that she has sunk to the floor and is sobbing.

  Arms wrap around her and she clings to the folds of dark cloth for comfort, wetting them with her tears. “It worked,” she hears Trema’tia say from across the room. She pulls away from the cloaked figure that is holding her. Grind’iv’s expressionless face peers down at her and he nods once before lifting her and plunking her with little care back on the wooden chair. “It is spirit magic. A lot of spirit magic. More than I have ever seen surrounding one person.” His glance at Grind’iv is questioning.

  Grind’iv simply summons a thread of power and touches it to the power surging across her. She frowns up at them. She can feel nothing: there is no difference, no great feelings or even a hint of a feeling. All she feels is frightened and the start of a temper. Grind’iv nods again, shrugs, sniffs and from a look from Trema’tia sniffs again.

  “What did you feel?” She is about to tell them that she feels like boxing their heads together, when Grind’iv answers.

  “She has no way of touching the power. She has no focal nor a path. I would say the power is useless if it was not for the fact that someone has used it before.”

  “That much spirit energy would be devastating if unleashed. Perhaps it is better that she cannot touch it. The law is the law.” Canace feels her eyes widen and her stomach flips over. She thinks she might be sick.

  “You would not hand me over to them? The guilds would imprison me. I cannot even feel anything. I don’t even know what spirit magic means. You cannot hand me over. Please! I’m begging!” She is aware that she has started sobbing again.

  “We would not do that,” Grind’iv says, lowering himself so that his face is level with hers. “The power has been used, but most likely during your healing. You have no focal nor path, so you cannot touch this energy. It can still be dangerous. We have not seen this much power before. Not even your angry friend has this much, and she is perhaps the strongest we had seen until now.”

  “You are not dangerous,” Trema’tia says crouching down beside the other Dark Clan. “Just do not get too close to anyone who can wield spirit magic who you do not trust. We will have to make a report, but we will firmly stress that you can never touch this power and that you are to walk free.”

  The relief that floods into her causes her to sob even harder. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she whispers. The Dark Clan simply look at each other. Grind’iv sniffs.

  If Tak’arshi could be a
ngry he would be now and good, this rotten child would deserve having a bit of temper focused upon her. However, he cannot become angry, and so her moody face and tantrums wash over the hollowness he can feel inside his mind. Unlike many Dark Clan, Tak’arshi was born with The Lacking. Most of the children born this way die at birth but he had survived. He never had any emotions to remember, not a single one. He casts his mind back to the days when he was a child. He would sit within the turmoil of the playroom surrounded by laughter and happiness, while he could not understand any of it. His life energy has always been black. That said, he has worked hard to learn all he can of emotions and their weaknesses and strengths. He knows more than most Dark Clan about the subtle ways to control others with a hint of anger or a raised eyebrow. He thinks it all rather logical and in a way entertaining. In that cold empty way he finds things entertaining.

  Riochald mutters something under her breath, and he narrows his eyes at her. She stops her grumbling and casts her eyes to the ground. Yes, it was good to know how to control the emotions of others. That said, it would be better if he knew how they felt. Many of the Dark Clan claim that they can force the memories of emotions from when they were children and feel, if only for a brief moment. That had happened the other day when he returned his child into the light. The thought of envy floats across the void in his mind and he cocks his head to the side. He would even welcome that emotion.

  “Are you even listening to me anymore?” Riochald barks, her hands folded under her bosom. “You asked me to be here. Was it just to ignore me? I had wanted to work with Danlynn for a while. He is still having problems with his focal which you would know if you were listening.”

  Tak’arshi sighs mockingly and turns his attention to the grumpy woman standing before him. It was true that he had asked her to join him this morning but he had forgotten how difficult it was to deal with her. She did not listen and thought she knew better for most things, even if it was the first time she was doing something. Her moods are hard to understand and her temper places a block over her summoning. She complains about helping her friend find his focal, when hers is so wild and uneven that she can barely summon at all. He ponders for a moment how to deal with her and then an idea comes to mind. She is a bully in a sense. She pushes people around and shouts, and he has even seen her strike out on a few occasions. What if he employed that technique to deal with her? He puts on a fake smile, one he has practiced many times in a mirror and takes a step closer to the woman.

  Riochald reacts in the way he hopes. She casts a glance around to see if there is anyone around that she can ask for help. Seeing nobody she straightens her back and looks at him with defiance burning in her eyes. Then with one more step towards her she swallows and takes a step back. Tak’arshi stops and drops the smile.

  “I was thinking that perhaps you need to have an earthly focal. Much like I have given Lisle,” he twists the man’s name to remind her that she had called him Danlynn and she looks abashed. She did take pride in being better than the others but she was most of the time the one to let things slip. “He has a staff, and I thought that perhaps that would help you also, just while we train.”

  Riochald smiles—it looks like it is to herself, because she hides it when she sees him looking at her. “Danlynn gave the staff to one of the maids to use as a curtain pole. He has been practicing with his bow and arrows.”

  Tak’arshi almost feels like sighing for real. It was illogical to use a weapon like a bow as a focal. He needed to be able to summon quickly and drawing an arrow back would take too much time. It may also limit the powers he can learn. That sigh does come, but it is another fake one for her benefit. “Has he summoned anything yet?”

  “Yes. He can make his arrows burst into flames. He is trying to freeze them now.”

  “Foolish boy!” he mutters in his best angry tone. “He will probably never be able to summon without it now. Perhaps it is not too late.” He takes a few steps away from her and shields himself. “Let us see what you can do.”

  Riochald smiles and begins to form a spell. To Tak’arshi’s eyes it looks like many colorful spider webs lapping over one another in a complex pattern. In truth it is just layers of a simple pattern turned around many times to look like a mass of images. She is weaving fire and air together, fitting them so that she can create the flames and then spread them with the air. It is not one of the spells he has taught her though, and for a moment he wonders how she knows what she is doing. The construct takes mere seconds, and she thrusts her arms towards him and opens her hands. The pattern snaps and raw energy blasts from her in the form of a powerful gale. Swinging his right arm out, his index and middle fingers extended, he cuts through the power and it snaps backwards. Riochald yelps and grabs hold of her hands as if burned.

  “What did you do?” she shrieks. “My power just vanished! It just fizzed away like nork root does on the tongue! Explain!” She stops rubbing her hand and plants her fists on her hips.

  “You lost control again. Wind is the only power that can come from a failed construct as it is the only element that does not need Mana to work. I explained this yesterday. Who showed you how to do that, anyway? I certainly never did and I told you not to practice new constructs on your own!”

  Riochald smiles that bitter smile of hers. “I was keeping an eye on Canace this morning. Two Dark Clan walked her into a dark hall and I hid to see what they were going to do to her. One of them used it and I saw how it was done.”

  “From seeing it once? That is impressive. If only you could learn how to focus and then perhaps you could use such grand constructs. Now how are we doing on shielding? I notice you have not raised one.” He thinks about putting on one of those bitter smiles she does so well but thinks a raised eyebrow would work better. She puffs up her chest in the desired way and then deflates when she has to admit she cannot form a shield. Tak’arshi nods once. He knew already that she would not be able to form a shield. They use very little power to create, but a lot of focus. Perhaps if she feels threatened.... He draws in power and summons a cloud of dark fire so fast that Riochald jumps backwards screaming.

  Then the power vanishes and Tak’arshi is flung backwards, both of his hands cramping. He winces at the pain and if he could feel shock he would most certainly be feeling it now. “You severed my flow. But that is a very advanced talent. You are an enigma, young Dymphia.”

  Riochald smiles back at him but he can see the shock in her eyes and something else. He thinks that maybe it is fear.

  Danlynn shuts his eyes and tries to picture the locked box within his mind, like Tak’arshi had instructed. He stands within his own mind. A place called the Mana Fold, so he was told. There is nothing there except an endless black. He opens his eyes and holds out his hands.

  It is there, resting in his palms: a cold wooden box with a thick gold lock. It is very plain. He sighs with disappointment, he had hoped for something a bit more ornate. He can hear Tak’arshi’s voice whisper directly into his head and he looks around him at the darkness.

  He knows that he is really sitting on the cold, hard floor of the training room within the Dark Clan city but this place seems so real. He is sure he saw something move a moment ago.

  “Concentrate,” the voice says calmly. “I have a hold of your power. You can do no harm. Now open the box.”

  Danlynn tugs at the lid but it is locked tight. He is about to complain when the lock simply vanishes and the lid creaks up an inch. Inside the box is a small bead of azure howlite. He reaches in and takes it. The box vanishes in the same way the lock had, and he is left with just the stone.

  “What color is it?”

  “Blue, like the sky.” He lifts it close to his face and gasps as he sees the raw power burning inside it. Waves of the ocean crash over rocks which float into the air, carried on the wind which ripples with heat and lightning bolts.

  “Good,” Tak’arshi says. “You have the power to summon a burst of energy but it will be short, very powerful but
short. I will teach you how to use your energy well so that it does not fail you. But heed my warning: you do not have endless power. It will run out, and then you’ll be empty for some time until you can fill from the world around you.”

  “I know that already—you told me two days ago. This is a very unnerving. I want my bow!”

  “No!” Tak’arshi snaps. “You do not need it here! And I have told you to practice without it, have I not?”

  “But I can’t even feel the power when I don’t hold it. It is like having the last page of a book missing. Please, can I have the bow?”

  “No!” An echo like a massive sigh floats around the blackness. “She is ready. I will bring her into the Mana Fold.”

  Riochald blinks into existence a few feet away from him. She wears her old brown woolen dress from home and has her hair back up in a tight bun. Her face is sad and her eyes are rimmed red from crying.

  In her hand she holds an orange citrine. He notices how her hands tremble. He cannot remember when he has ever seen Riochald frightened, but she looks it now.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks dumbly. She stares at him but does not speak.

  “You will now listen to my voice and do as I command. You cannot harm each other here, as I have hold of your power. Remember, Riochald, that you have an endless supply of power, but do not forget that Danlynn does not. He will weaken much faster than you.”

  Danlynn groans. Why does she have to be stronger than him in this also? Will he ever be better than anyone else? He is not as smart as Darwin’t. Not as brave as Riochald and seemingly weaker in magic. Derry’n is kind and caring and knows how to show it. Canace has compassion and knows the right words to say. Even Tarfleam seems to be doing better than him. This is his ninth lesson and he is only just ready to do his first summoning unaided. Tarfleam learnt how to control his nature power in a few hours and has been growing flowers all over the gardens for the last two days. Although he knows something had happened that first day yet everyone is acting like nothing has. The two mountain folk avoided him as much as he could tell and Riochald cast quick worried glances in his direction whenever she saw him.