by AS Hamilton
The men were jolted out of their trance and two dismounted quickly, each taking hold of an arm.
'Shhh...' Ensirus soothed, inducing a sleep with the scent from the bottle.
Greyson fumed impatiently, 'What, in the name of the great sages, is wrong with her?'
Ensirus sat back and looked up at the Thane. 'I cannot say, lord. If you will allow a moment, I will look more deeply for the cause of her hysteria.'
'Make it quick,' Greyson snapped.
Placing a hand on her forehead to help him concentrate, Ensirus searched for an internal injury. Physically, Dematica was fine; she had only suffered a few bruises and abrasions from the fall. He would have to search deeper... Ensirus gasped and fell back with an expression of shock and disbelief. He made a protective sign. 'Oh Gilodren, custodian of healers,' he whispered hoarsely.
'You should know better than to call on your gods, healer. It is because my curiosity exceeds my need to punish you that I will let it pass. What is it?'
'Lord, her... It is her talent.'
'What about it?' Greyson barked, becoming even more agitated.
'It is gone, lord, gone!'
'What do you mean gone?'
'I mean plucked from her as easily as you would pluck an apple from a tree.'
The Thane looked at him for a moment, disbelieving.
'The loss of them has impacted upon her mind, driven her out of it,' he explained.
'Can you heal her? Get them back?' Greyson asked, his desperation spurred not by concern, but for the delay this was causing.
Ensirus shook his head with regret. 'I cannot give back that which I did not take. Only the mage who took them could, and even then, I am still not sure such a feat is possible. No mage has taken another's talent before, not in all our history has this been done. Although, if I am more precise about it, this mage did not actually take Dematica's talents, he disconnected her from them.'
Greyson swore emphatically before he smiled as he looked upon Varell, who was now tending to her master. Dematica had mentioned she had an apprentice, a remark he had dismissed as irrelevant. The girl was holding Dematica's hand, while she rested the other hand on the mage's forehead. It was possible the young apprentice was trying to help her master using what training she had.
'You, girl. Here.'
To humans, Varell looked like a young teenager, and so the Thane assumed Varell was fourteen or fifteen, not sixty-odd turns old. Getting up, Varell nervously walked over to the Thane.
'Can you track, girl?'
'I-I-I am not sure — lord,' Varell stuttered.
Greyson leaned from his horse and gripped the young elvan by one shoulder. Varell winced as the strong fingers dug in. The Thane looked into the girl's face hopefully. 'Has Dematica gone over it with you at all?'
'A little, when we practiced I tracked a rabbit quite successfully, lord,' Varell replied timidly.
Greyson laughed, more with relief than amusement and shook Varell good-naturedly. 'Good! Good! Then try, try to re-establish the link. I do not have to emphasise how important this is, do I?' he asked, gripping Varell's shoulder even more tightly, his manner almost fanatical.
'N-n-no. No, lord. I shall try,' Varell replied, using all her self-control not to rub her sore shoulder as the Thane released her.
Settling in the position she and Dematica used for practice, Varell gulped and, after a few tries, finally centred herself.
Dematica had warned her that tracking on the astral plane could be time consuming. She had explained that advanced mages did not normally use this plane to track and it was simply a starting point for the untrained. That was why Varell had been so keen to observe Dematica. Being more experienced, Dematica had she set her link in the astral plane and then moved to a spirit plane, where she could see each aura and track it. Seeing Dematica do it, made it easier for her to understand how to do it herself. Once Dematica set the link, she guided the patrol to their quarry. In practice a mage did not need to be with the group tracking a person, they could remain in the city and let their horse lead the men. However their masters often did not trust that a mage could competently track this way and insisted they accompany them.
Varell remembered that Dematica had said that the astral plane was a parallel plane to the physical plane. On this plane, one was considered to be their essential spirit. Dematica said that a distressed spirit could find refuge here. That would be important later, because once she did what the Thane asked, she would use it as a starting point in helping Dematica.
She was fearful of succeeding in the locating this elvan the Thane wanted, because he had hurt Dematica. 'What one sees upon the astral plane is almost exactly what one sees from the physical plane. But, you cannot make a physical impact upon the physical plane from this one,' Dematica had told her when she first started learning this technique. What it meant was that you could not speak to someone or pick up an object unless you possessed mind-speak or mind-will. So, if she did find the elvan, he was unlikely to physically interact with her. That made Varell feel a little less frightened. Now she just had to get to him and then tell the Thane how to find him.
According to Dematica, travel through the astral planes was easy, which was true. Varell had learned that all she had to do was think herself there, or think of the person she wanted to find and she would find herself with them. So, if she wanted to do this, she needed something to 'think' to. When she practiced they would use things like a slave bracelet. She would think herself to the location of that bracelet in order to find the slave wearing it.
In this case, she did not know what this elvan looked like and she did not know what personal possessions he had on him. Dematica had explained to her before they set out that if she did this solely via the astral plane, she would try a number of objects any ordinary traveller would possess, like a water-skin or saddle. Varell paused, that would result in a huge number of false leads though. They were near a city and there would be thousands of saddles and the like. But there were ways of narrowing the search. Dematica had taught her how to limit her search to a specific area. So she could aim her search away from the city, in the direction Dematica had been taking them. It was still going to be an arduous process, though. Then Varell remembered, Dematica had put significant work into retrieving Gareth's memories from the attack. She had succeeded in getting only fragments, but one had been a glimpse of the hilt of the knife used on Gareth. Another of an amber gemstone hanging around the elvan's neck.
Dematica said she would use these items to confirm her astral sighting and set a passive link on the knife. The gem, she warned Varell, could hold talent and they might attract attention to themselves were they to place the link on that. The knife must have worked because Dematica had found Gareth's attacker.
The young apprentice took a deep breath and then thought herself to the dagger... And found herself in a weapon-smith's back storeroom. She was dismayed momentarily before she decided that she simply must concentrate harder. She tried again, this time concentrating on every detail in the sliver of memory. It was only a flash, but on the planes even a second could be slowed at the mage's will. With a jolt of fear, Varell abruptly found herself by a creek looking at an elvan male sitting cross-legged in the shade.
He sat tall, and resting in its place on his belt was a knife with a cat-like beast crawling up its hilt. Varell took in the intense aura that signified a mage of substantial skills, then the black hair streaked with silver. A shiver of awe rippled through the young apprentice as she realised that she was looking into deep, dark-blue pools. Varell's heart tried to escape through her throat. By all the realms and the gods they held, it was... Could it really be?
Varell's protective barriers fell like brush before a scythe.
'Do not fear, Varell, I will not harm you,' the elvan sent kindly.
He knew her name! 'I did not want to do it! Do not take my talent, please!'
'I will not take your talent, Varell.'
Reassurance swept throu
gh the young elvan, and with it a calm enveloped her, settling her racing heartbeat and dispelling her panic.
'There will be some brief pain,' the elvan sent. 'Do not fear. The Thane will not be able to fault your effort.'
'One moment, please,' the girl pleaded. 'Are you, are you him? Is it truly you?'
'I think you know that already. You doubt your own talent?'
'My talent is young, untrained. My mother, she prays for your coming every day. I have lost my sisters to harems. My brother was murdered for my father's refusal to cooperate and then they murdered him because he would not turn on his people. My mother has almost lost the will to do anything but pray for the Saviour. If I can tell her, for certain, that he is here, her hope may return.'
'You will not have the chance to tell your mother anything for a while yet, Varell. However, when you do see her next, you will find her in happiness. The harem that escaped from Sal-Cirus last night included your sisters. They have now found refuge with the rebels. This news alone will renew your mother's spirit. Still, I will see to it that she has news of your safety. Prepare yourself now.'
Varell felt a stab of pain and she screamed. It was fleeting however, and the pain was gone before she finished yelling. Then, everything was blissfully black.
Day 7 – Afternoon
Outside Sal-Cirus
(near Anuruna Lake)
Brynn cursed and shook his head as he came off the planes. Who was the second mage that had come to Dematica's aid at the very last moment? And why had he not sensed him until it was too late? It was a costly blunder, and the struggle with Dematica had not gone well, either. Had he not just done it, he would have believed that separating a mage from their talent was impossible. A shame it had been more by accident than intent. Only Fate knew if there was anything left of Dematica now. It was even possible that it would have been more compassionate to kill her outright.
What scalded his ego worse was the instinct that the mage who had stepped in to help Dematica was not an enemy. But Brynn had not been able to identify them because Varell's presence had distracted him from continuing his investigation. Well, thank Fate he was not the Saviour, after all. Though Toormeena called him Torahn…
How could he be a part of The Prophecy; have the silver and black hair, the eyes, the scars, the connection to the may-en-ghi and even all the talents... And yet not be the Saviour? What did Toormeena's revelation mean? If it was not him, why include his description in The Prophecy? Was his role to find the one prophecised and protect them? Mayhap he was the guardian… but that did not make sense, the prophecy clearly stated that the Saviour would have the unique features that he possessed. What Brynn really needed was time to go over all the information Toormeena had given him and figure it out. Unfortunately, right now, they need to lose their pursuers.
Sariah brought the horses over.
'Which way?' she asked.
As he pushed himself up, Brynn also pushed back his doubts and the fears. They would have to wait. 'North,' he replied, getting on Sershja. 'We can let the horses run for a while, although we should pace ourselves for the most part, they will need their strength when we get to the desert, and as you said, the hills will not be easy on them. If I can retrieve the sword quickly, we can cross most of the desert this night.'
A frown of confusion creased Sariah's forehead. 'Sword, what sword?'
'The task Toormeena gave me was to find something linked to the amulet. That something is a sword—'
'You mean all this is for a sword? I can give you a sword. If the hawk design is not to your liking, believe me, I have plenty of others you can choose from.'
'None of them would be made by a dragon and imbued with part of a real soul, would they?' Brynn said with a deadpan expression.
So that was what he was doing in place of sleep, Sariah thought, researching the paths within that cursed gem. Sariah muttered under her breath disconsolately. 'Fine, we need to get this sword. How disabled is that mage? I mean, do we have time or are we still being pursued?'
Brynn did not succeed in subduing his amusement at the warrior's outburst, earning a glare from Sariah. How a sightless person could glare like that, was something he would never fathom.
'The mage is... permanently disabled. Unfortunately, the hunt for us may not be over. There was a thane leading the search patrol. He is stubborn and likely to continue his pursuit.'
Sariah visibly relaxed. 'Without a mage, they will be reduced to tracking in the more traditional sense, so we should be able to get a good lead.'
Brynn nodded in agreement. 'Getting the sword should not be too time-consuming. If we can get to the Khira before the sun sets, I will use my talent to extend the stamina of the horses, so we can get through the worst of the desert before sunrise.'
Sariah nodded. 'I think they would appreciate that.' Then the warrior frowned. 'Wait, do you literally mean a dragon, a real dragon, made this sword you have to get?'
Brynn half shrugged. 'Some would call the being that made the sword a god, but, yes, it would not be inaccurate to say a dragon made the sword.'
Sariah stared at him for a moment and then looked away. 'This is why I do not like getting involved with mages, there is always sure to be something terrifying around the corner.'
'Or magnificent,' Brynn suggested. 'Think about it, Sariah, a dragon may be frightening, but it is also magnificent.'
The warrior raised her brows and gave him a nod. 'That is also true.'
Brynn withdrew two apples, tossing one to Sariah. He fed his to Sershja. The horse grunted happily and then started forward, powerful muscles surging beneath the elvan.
'You're it!' Sershja sent back to Treya.
Treya snorted in surprise and, gulping down the rest of her apple, raced off after her friend.
Day 7 – Afternoon
Outside Sal-Cirus
(heading towards Anuruna Lake)
Ensirus looked on anxiously as Varell attempted to locate the elvan thief. He had only one consolation; the thief had not killed Dematica. If he could take talent, then surely he could kill, but he had chosen not to take the mage's life.
His fears were confirmed even as he watched. Varell stiffened and then cried out before she slumped forward. Ensirus rushed to her side. Again, he checked her pulse and breathing and then, with some amount of trepidation, her talent. The girl's mind had not been harmed! The healer allowed himself a private smile. His instincts had been right and Varell was merely unconscious. The Thane would not be pleased... Yet, for the first time in his service to the thanes, Ensirus was not unhappy to be the bearer of this unfortunate news, even if he had to make himself look miserable as he delivered it.
He turned to the Thane, who looked at him expectantly. 'She will not recover for hours,' the healer informed him.
'Who does it, Ensirus? Is it this Saviour... th-this prophecy, or an accomplice?'
'I cannot tell from the wounds who caused them, else I would be employed by the courts. I am deeply sorry, lord.'
Greyson had stopped listening. He was looking towards the hills in the distance. It would take too much time to go back and find another mage. They'd already wasted time in the city swapping over to fresh horses and healing the blacksmith. Dematica said the blacksmith's attacker and his companion were probably by the creek somewhere in the groves that lead up to the lake from which the creek originated. If he split his trackers up and sent them along the most likely paths, there was a chance they could pick up a trail.
'Mount up!' Greyson ordered. 'Once we get to the trees we will split up and scout for tracks.'
The men scrambled to obey, but Greyson was not waiting for them, he spun his horse about and dug his heels into her flanks, setting off at a gallop.
Ensirus waited for the dust to settle as the group departed. He guessed that meant he was dismissed. He looked to the mage and her apprentice. Thane Curtin would not be pleased with the Thane of Venshui, Dematica was a valuable resource. It was not unlike Greyson to put no
thought into getting the injured parties back to Sal-Cirus. The healer sighed, he, too, was used to being forgotten. Slaves barely warranted acknowledgement. In his case, being a healer, they were often glad to see him arrive, but once his task was done, none cared where he went until he was needed again.
Thane Curtin usually had him visit sick workers and slaves as it was his belief that if the workers were kept well, they would be a better investment. This seemingly moral perspective did not stop the Thane from renting Ensirus out and profiting from his skills. He wondered if Curtin would charge Greyson for his attendance. Actually, it was possible Curtin did not even know the other thane had taken him. Greyson had wanted the seat of Sal-Cirus for turns and often treated the city as if it and everything in it, was his, which greatly annoyed Thane Curtin. It was quite possible no one officially knew about the absence of healer, mage or apprentice. In fact, it was possible that no one in authority in Sal-Cirus would find out until after Greyson returned from his hunt — if Thane Greyson even remembered to mention borrowing Ensirus or Dematica at all.
This could be it...
His chance at seeking freedom.
Ensirus looked about. He was in the middle of a small plain between two low hills. Where would he go? He thought of the advice his mother had given him. 'Whenever you need help, go to the nearest village and ask to speak to the raven's guardian,' she had told him. 'The guardian will help you.' The nearest village was only a few hours away.
The healer hesitated, it was still risky. He could say he had become lost if they found him. The question was, what to do with Dematica? She might never recover. And yet, there was a chance he might be able to heal her torn mind.
Having decided, he spoke to Dematica's horse gently. The horse lowered herself to the ground and tolerated being rocked from side to side as he pulled Dematica over her back. He secured the mage with some long strips of cloth normally used for strapping sprained ankles and such. Varell was easier to deal with and Ensirus was soon calling his own horse over. The healer smiled as the horse trotted over, his limp completely gone.
