Chapter 35
The walk back was a long one. The distance was short, but burdened with the reality of what she had done, and what she had said, it was almost too much for Myranda to bear. She tried to remind herself of the anger, that what she had done was justified. It did little good. As she walked, she slowly became aware of each and every blow she'd let slip by. Her mind was too taxed to heal them by itself. She could have gone back to the healers, but deep down, she knew she deserved what she had received. The fact that she had let hate turn her into exactly what she hated warranted every lump and bruise she had and more.
She had not killed him, but the fact that she could have, the fact that she wanted to, burned her mind.
She entered her hut. Myn was with Lain. The dragon would need some time to forgive her for what she had done. The room seemed too empty. Myranda was tired. She should sleep but . . . no. She couldn't. Not now. The dreams. Silence and solitude were all she wanted now. A knock at the door broke the silence, and the man on the other side broke the solitude. She opened it to find Deacon leaning heavily--very heavily--on both the door frame and a staff. It was clear that the chief white wizard was right. He'd needed at least another day. He managed a weak smile.
"Hello. May I come in?" he asked.
Myranda would have said no, but he clearly had put a lot of effort into the trek to her hut.
"Please," she said with a rather unconvincing attempt at joviality.
He hobbled in, dropping heavily to a seat.
"My goodness. I haven't had to use a staff in ages," he said.
"Shouldn't you still be in bed?" she asked.
"Vedesto evicted me. He caught me trying to convince one of the apprentices to sneak a book in for me. Again," he said.
"I see," she said.
"So, I thought . . . the falls. The falls have stopped while we were sleeping, and the water in the pool beneath is gone," he began, his voice wavering a bit. "The way is open again, and will be for a day or two more. We post people in shifts to watch for newcomers. In groups of two. I thought maybe that you and I could . . . is something wrong?"
Myranda shook as she remembered what she had done, and then she slowly shook her head.
"What is it? I can help, I assure you," he said, nearly falling over forward in an attempt to place a hand on her shoulder.
"Nothing, I . . . I passed Lain's test," she said.
"Perhaps my mind is a bit more addled than I thought. I would have imagined that was a reason to rejoice," he said.
"I tried to kill him," she said.
"Did you succeed?" he asked.
"No, but I wanted to. I really did. I couldn't control myself. I just . . . I hated him so much. I knocked out his tooth. I may have broken his jaw. He gave me the tooth. He wants me to remember. He wants me to remember that I wanted to kill," she said.
"What did he do to make you feel this way?" he asked.
"He won't do it, Deacon. He is one of them! He can stop the war, but he won't! He would rather go on profiting from murder than end all of this!" she said.
"Myranda, no, no. You mustn't trouble yourself over that. Listen, it does not matter what he says. This is a matter of fate. What must be done will be done," he said.
"I know him well enough to know that when he gives his word, he doesn't break it, and he promised to answer my questions truthfully. If he said he doesn't intend to, then he won't," she said.
"You don't understand. It doesn't matter. Myranda, the future is not so fragile as to be broken by a simple decision. The future is made of decisions. The spirits speak not to tell us what to do, but to tell us what will be done. Something will change his mind and he will rise to his proper place. Until then, just leave him be," he said.
"I just don't know," she said.
"Well, I do. That's the wonderful thing about the future. All you ever have to do is wait for it. It will come to you," he said.
Until the sun set, Deacon kept Myranda company. He then hobbled slowly home as Myranda went to sleep without her friend Myn to keep her company for the first time in ages. The time had not protected her from the dreams. Morning couldn't come soon enough. When her eyes opened shortly before sunrise, she made a decision. She would convince Lain to do what he must, even if it took years. But not today. She could not face him after what she did yesterday, after what he made her do. For now she needed something to occupy her mind.
She left her hut, with her mind fully recovered and her bruises mostly healed. The thundering of the falls had indeed stopped, Myranda finally realized for herself. It was odd. The sound had been so constant in her time here that she had accepted the low rumble as silence. Now that it was gone, the quiet seemed unnatural. It felt as though there was something missing. The feeling was deep in her soul. It must be the missing sound. What else could it be?
She had a meal before seeking out Deacon. It was odd not being hurried by an impending training session with an impatient teacher. She supposed that black and white magics would be next, and she wondered what sort of things those Masters would have in store for her. No. Gray magic first. She owed it to Deacon to finish his training. After knocking at his door, she heard bumping and thumping, as well as a rather insistent voice telling her to wait. Finally the door opened, revealing Deacon looking a good deal more disheveled than usual.
"Did I wake you?" she asked.
"No, no. Not you precisely. The door did. When you knocked on it," he said, trying to set her mind at ease without really lying.
"You can go back to bed. I know you need your sleep," Myranda said.
"Not at all. Not at all. I am quite well-rested," he said, struggling valiantly to hold back a yawn. "I haven't slept so deeply since I was an apprentice. What brings you here?"
"I haven't slept so poorly since I was a frightened little girl. Myn isn't about. I just need some kind of distraction. Something to pluck up my courage before I speak to Lain again," she said.
"Well, if nothing more than distraction is required, I can most assuredly oblige. Please, come in," he said.
She closed the door and took a seat in the second chair while Deacon went about pulling books from shelves. When he had a fair amount, he pulled his chair to the desk and opened one or two of them.
"If you like, I will teach you a bit more gray magic. You may have your choice of lessons. Whatever interests you," he said.
Myranda scanned the books. The names were not in her tongue, but thanks to a whispered enchantment by Deacon, the lines and letters twisted and turned themselves as her eyes swept over the pages. In a few moments it was all quite legible to her. Eventually she found the most recently scribed of the enchantments.
"What about this one?" she asked, placing her finger on a spell marked "Gilliam's Folly."
"Trans-substantiation. That is a rather advanced one, but nothing beyond your ability, I am sure," he said.
She had not brought her staff, but Deacon allowed her to borrow his crystal. Gray magic tended to be quite different from the elements. Each spell that the fire or wind Masters taught was much like the first. Gray magic was wholly different from spell to spell. It was like learning a new discipline each time.
The pair decided she would begin by turning a piece of clay into glass. The two substances were fairly similar, and thus the change would be simple. Myranda worked at the spell with Deacon's coaching, but it wasn't easy. The sight of the spell at work was quite unique. Faint waves of energy swept through the clay, leaving thin bands of glass that faded quickly back to normal. After an hour or so of unsuccessful attempts, they decided to rest.
"Well. The falls are quiet today. For now, at least. Calypso indicated that they would give way sooner than expected. Perhaps by the end of the day. Nevertheless, that still leaves time for a shift or two at the fall's edge. It is quite peaceful there and you and I might--" he began. He was interrupted by a thunderous slam on the door.
"What was that?" she cried, startled.
"I seem to have a rathe
r insistent visitor," he said.
A second crash nearly knocked the door from its hinges, and a third succeeded where the last had failed. Atop the fallen door stood a dizzied Myn. She had a desperate look, catching the edge of Myranda's tunic and pulling her forward.
"What is it? Calm down. What is it, little one?" she asked.
Myn looked desperately to the base of the temporarily quiet falls and back to Myranda.
"What about the falls? I don't . . . Lain. Lain went to the falls," she said.
She knew from the dragon's eyes that it was so. He had gone.
"Then we must follow," Myranda said, walking resolutely toward the falls.
"What!? No! You--you need to stay here! There are ceremonies, there are tests. You've so much more you can learn! You haven't even been inducted as a Full Master yet! Your Master crystal will not be forged for another month, at least!" Deacon said, rushing out the door behind her.
"I've learned enough. I need to see Lain," she said.
"The falls could start at any moment. You'll never make it! You don't have any supplies! You need to stay!" he pleaded.
"No!" she said, turning to him. "Lain has left this place to go back to killing. He has turned his back on his purpose. I will not rest until he faces it again!"
"Myranda, that is a job for fate, not for you," he reasoned desperately.
"What if fate means to do it through me? I have been thinking. That nonsense you said that Hollow had said about me. A label of white adorns that which will see each. I have seen the Swordsman," she began, holding up her white scar of the mark. "I have seen Lain. I have seen whatever being we summoned in the ceremony. What if it is my purpose to seek out the Chosen? A mark both fresh and faded belongs to the carpenter. What if carpenter is not meant to be taken literally? What if he meant that I was to be the one to join the members of the Chosen five together as a carpenter joins wood? Doesn't that explain why I have the mark? Doesn't that explain why magic comes so easily to me?"
"Perhaps, perhaps . . . But perhaps not! You are reaching, Myranda. You are twisting the words to fit your purpose," he said. "The prophecy is clear about mere mortals who try to help the Chosen. The trials that the divine ones must face would destroy anyone else. To offer aid where it is not needed is a death sentence!"
"Then so be it. If I must die so that the world may be spared of this war, let it be done," she said.
"No, Myranda, I--I . . . Five minutes more, I beg of you!" he said.
"I must--" Myranda tried to answer. Before she did, Deacon was gone. He disappeared inside his hut.
Myranda hurried along. She simply could not be delayed. A terrible din came from Deacon's hut. He sprinted out after her a minute later.
"Wait please!" he said, running in front of her. He carried a bag and an armload of books. The precious tomes spilled to the ground as he finally found the specific one he was looking for. He riffled through the pages and tore one out.
"Here! Take it! Have you the tooth still? Good. With this spell and that tooth you can track him wherever he goes! And the bag! Take the bag! It contains some necessities, an old staff and crystal. Better than yours, but not nearly what you deserve. Oh, if only you would wait until the next time that the way opens. We could give you a crystal worthy of your skill," he said.
Myranda took the bag and the page, stuffing it inside. Tears were welling in her eyes. As they approached the base of the falls the mountain seemed to shudder. At any second, a column of water would come crashing down.
"Myranda. Take care. Please, come back to m--us," he said.
"I swear to you. If I can, I will," she assured him.
Myranda rushed to the edge of the waterfall basin. Those keeping watch claimed that neither they nor their predecessors had seen anyone enter the mouth of the cave, but considering the fact that Lain had managed to sneak out of his own hut without waking Myn, that meant little. The dragon leapt down into the basin, while Myranda lowered herself as gently as she could down inside. With much difficulty, she managed to reach the mouth of the cave. She fought the urge to have one final look at those she was leaving behind, for fear of changing her mind. Instead, she hurried as quickly as the slick floor of the cave would allow.
Ahead lay darkness, danger, risk, and war. All of this Myranda knew. But somewhere there were two creatures, two creatures she'd seen with her own eyes, which could change the world. The mountain groaned, filling the cave with echoes. At any moment, an icy wall of water could drop down, robbing her of the haven, the wonder, the paradise that was Entwell. Her every desire, save one, lie in that fair village. Her greatest desire, though, lay ahead.
Lain carried with him the shining gleam of hope for peace, and she would follow that dying light in the darkness to the ends of the world. Now she knew the truth. She would show Lain the error in his ways. Now she understood her purpose. She would find the other Chosen. Now she had the power. She would see the war brought to an end, or she would die trying. Around her the mountain gave a groaning roar. Squeezing her scarred left hand tightly, she climbed on, toward her destiny.
#
Important though it is to tell the tale completely, the enormity of the task was not clear to me at the onset. Much as it pains me to leave you in the grip of so tense a moment, the hour is late and my hand grows unsteady. For now I must rest, and begin anew when I am able. I can only hope that the volume to follow finds its way to your eyes as well, as the tale is not half told, and I know all too well what incomplete knowledge can bring. Until then, let me leave you with an assurance. The tale does not end here. Indeed, this is merely the beginning.
###
And so ends the first chapter of The Book of Deacon. There is still is plenty more to read in this anthology, but if you’d like to be kept in the loop on future installments to the series, sign up for the newsletter! And for books in other settings, check out the complete bibliography at the end of this anthology.
The Great Convergence
The Book of Deacon
Book Two
Joseph R. Lallo
Foreword
There isn’t much to say about The Great Convergence that hasn’t been said about The Book of Deacon in the first foreword. The full trilogy was, after all, written as a single book. This did create a moment of panic, however. If you’ve just finished The Book of Deacon, you know it ends in a cliffhanger. At first, I hadn’t expected anyone to read my book, so I dragged my feet on getting the next one published. Once I got even one sale, I realized I had to get the sequel up in a hurry or the poor soul who read the first book would likely be furious at me. And so, The Great Convergence hit the shelves.
Chapter 1
A story half told is a crime, and there is no crime greater. When this tale began it was the tale of a common woman in an uncommon circumstance. A woman unprepared, unskilled, and unready. When the last words were written, they spoke of a master many times over. She was a woman filled with resolve--fearless, steadfast, and, above all, determined. A woman firm in her belief and single in her focus, willing to charge into the jaws of doom for her cause. A job needed to be done, and she had the tools to do it. Imagine what the next pages will bring . . .
#
"I have lost my mind," Myranda muttered to herself. "Behind me is paradise. A warm bed waiting for me every night and hot meals waiting for me every day. The people there care for me, respect me, even admire me! I am turning my back on it in favor of a dark cave that will very shortly be filled with water, chasing a confirmed and shameless killer with hopes of convincing him to end a war and save the world."
The paradise was Entwell. It was a place of learning, populated by the wisest wizards and the mightiest warriors. All had come seeking a beast of legendary ferocity. A beast that each believed had taken the lives of all before them. A beast that had turned out to be the cave itself. For two short periods a year, the cave was dry and passable. The most recent such period was, in moments, going to come to an end.
The ki
ller was a creature with seemingly no true name. Myranda first knew him as Leo, then as Lain. The name most knew him by was The Red Shadow. He was an assassin, known and feared throughout the continent. He was also a malthrope, a hated and dying breed of creature that looked like a human and a fox combined. Most important, though, was what had days ago been revealed.
In a ceremony designed to both summon one divine warrior and identify another, he had been revealed as a Chosen One. A tool of the gods, fated to end the war that had been eating away the people of the Northern Alliance and Tressor for one and a half centuries. Rather than embracing his fate, he had turned his back on it. Now he was somewhere within this cave, heading for the war-torn world, with no intention of playing his role. And so she had followed.
"I will find him. I will convince him. I must," she insisted.
Myn merely shot her a quick look of acknowledgment before continuing on her task. The dragon, not yet a year old, hadn't spent a day away from Myranda, and she never intended to, no matter the difficulties the travel might bring. Her claws were better suited to the rough walls of a normal cave. The glassy walls of this one offered a challenge, but it was by no means the greatest challenge on the horizon. Already the pair was far enough along that the light from the entrance was dimming behind them. They were rapidly approaching the point of no return.
Myranda pulled the staff from her bag as the darkness deepened. The well-crafted tool was longer than her own had been, and stouter. No doubt perfectly suited to the height and grip of its former owner, her friend and former teacher, Deacon. She coaxed a light from within the crystal with ease. Being in the cave reminded her of just how recently she had come upon these new talents. When she was here last, she'd had to rely upon a torch. Now, thanks to Deacon's teachings, she could simply will light into being. She had dared not dream of such a thing months ago.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 44
