“Ah.” The portly wizard grinned mischievously. “Those are the questions that every cadet has. We purposely keep the books with that information in the Faculty Library for just that reason. Don’t worry. None of the students know what to do until they get in there. Now come along.”
Justan belted on his ceremonial dagger with a white sash and followed the professor. They left the room and went through a door at the end of the short hallway. Justan entered with an open mind but he was not prepared for what awaited him in the next room.
The room was huge, nearly as big as the library, stretching into a dome far above him. There were no windows, for the room was deep inside of the RuneTower, but flameless candles shone brightly on unending tiers of chandeliers hanging from the arched ceiling. Ancient statues of even more named warriors and wizards lined the walls of the room, each one of them a work of beauty in and of itself.
Something about the statues and chandeliers pricked something in his memory. He had read about this room. Justan’s heart skipped a beat. This was the Hall of Majesty. This was the room where the naming ceremonies were performed.
Suddenly, it made sense, the ornateness of this part of the RuneTower, the paintings of named warriors and wizards on the walls. Every named warrior or wizard in all the lands had undertaken a long searching journey to become named. For each of them that journey culminated in this room, where they performed the naming ceremonies.
With the realization of where he was, Justan's nervous feelings about being thrust into the situation without warning were tempered with a sense of sacredness. He was in too much awe to be nervous now. Peace gently settled over him and he was able to calm down.
Every member of the High Council was present and all were wearing robes just as ornate as Professor Beehn’s. Even Valtrek was there. A shiver shot down Justan’s spine as he saw the wizard that he so mistrusted. He knew that Valtrek was a member of the council, but he had only seen the man a handful of times since his arrival at the school and he hadn’t expected to see him today. Justan pushed down his emotions. He refused to let Valtrek’s presence take away from the mix of peace and anticipation he felt.
The floor of the room was paved in smooth stones and was uncovered except for a row of six small round white rugs that lay in front of the council, five of which were already occupied by a kneeling student. Professor Beehn motioned and Justan padded over to the unoccupied one.
As Professor Beehn took his place with the other members of the council, Justan began to kneel like the others, but he caught a glimpse of something that nearly made him fall over. Behind the High Council members stood a marble pedestal on top of which sat a large golden bowl filled halfway with water.
There it was, the Bowl of Souls. He recognized it from drawings in the books and had hoped to see it with his own eyes one day, but he had never thought that he would see it so soon.
As soon as Justan composed himself and knelt properly, Master Latva raised his left hand, the rune on his palm glaring forth like a beacon. His tone of voice was formal.
“The six of you are here today because you have been found worthy of the office of Apprentice. Undoubtedly, some of you are wondering what it is that you have done to make you worthy of this advancement. The answer is different for each one of you. Suffice it to say that you have impressed the council with both your advancement in the study of magic and desire for continued growth.
“You are probably also wondering what this ceremony will entail and why we are holding it in such an auspicious setting as the Hall of Majesty. In truth, the ceremony itself is a simple one and consists mainly of oaths made to the council and the MageSchool. You will be led through it step by step as we go.” He gestured towards one of the other wizards. “Professor Auger, the Council Historian will explain the history behind the office of Apprentice.”
Professor Auger, a narrow hawk-nosed man with thinning hair stepped forward. Wizard Auger was probably the most boring teacher at the school and all of the students dreaded his classes. Justan found the subject matter of magic history very fascinating, but the man had a knack for teaching with such a dull voice that Justan had once caught himself nodding off during a lesson on one of the greatest magic battles of all time. Kneeling here in the Hall of Majesty was probably the first time that any of the cadets in the room had ever looked forward to hearing what the man had to say.
Professor Auger cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back and spoke in his trademark nasal drone, “The office of Apprentice is an ancient tradition in magic. It has been in use since long before the concept of the MageSchool was ever dreamt up. In the days when man first learned of his capacity for magical power, a person born with the talent had to learn how to use it by himself.
“This proved most disastrous and there was much chaos and confusion at the time as these wild and untrained men and women, known as warlocks, caused havoc throughout the world. Their magic was undisciplined and threatened to tear the very fabric of society.
“The age of warlocks died out as people who had truly mastered their power, known as wizards, began the practice of seeking out those born with the power and taking them under their wing as apprentices. This was the way of training wizards for centuries before the Mage Schools were formed.
“Since that time, the concept of apprenticeship in the magic arts has changed a bit. Now, as the responsibilities of wizards have changed in the world and we have less time to train a student personally, all students start as cadets and only those who obtain a certain level of responsibility are allowed to become apprentices.”
Justan had read about most of this before and found the concept of lone wizards roaming through the lands taking on apprentices to be a nostalgic one. He had always been taught in large classrooms with other students. The rare times that he had been taught on a one on one basis were the times in his life when he had learned most effectively. Suddenly he looked forward to being an apprentice in magic and having a more personal student-teacher relationship.
Wizard Auger continued, “We have held the Apprenticeship Ceremony in the Hall of Majesty ever since the RuneTower was created, and even before the concept of being named was introduced. In fact, we use the Hall of Majesty for several major ceremonies in a wizard’s development.
“For each stage in your growth, you will enter this room and stand before the Bowl of Souls to take your oaths. Hopefully, you will come back into this room again when you are found worthy of the office of Mage, then later to be called as a Wizard and perhaps you may be even one of the lucky few to stand before the Bowl of Souls a final time to become a Named Wizard.”
The professor stopped as abruptly as he began and stepped back with the other council members. Master Latva then stood forward again, his eye’s twinkling with that inner youth they always projected.
“Today, you enter this place for your own apprenticeship. This calling is as important now as it had ever been in the past. Today you will take important oaths and sometime in the next two days a wizard will choose you as his personal apprentice. This wizard will become your master and you will be bound to follow all of his instructions to the letter. This will be your duty until he declares to the council that you are worthy to become a Mage and learn of things for yourself once more.
“Due to the nature of a Wizard’s duties today, we are all very busy. Therefore, you will not be with your master day and night as the apprentices did in the past, but only as much as he or she sees fit for your growth and development. This means that the time you spend away from your Master will most likely be spent attending regular classes with the other students. It is all up to your master’s discretion.”
At this point, Master Latva gestured to the other council members and all of them moved back to stand in a half circle around the Bowl of Souls. Master Latva stood at the center of that half circle, directly behind the bowl. In front of the pedestal on which the bowl sat, was a single circular rug.
Latva spoke again. “As I cal
l your name, step forth and stand before the Bowl of Souls. At that point you will grip your ceremonial dagger with both hands and dip it into the water contained within. Then I will speak the oaths that you must take in order to advance to the office of apprentice. After each oath, you will give the answer ‘I will’.
“If at any time you feel that you are not ready for such responsibility, you can refuse. If you do so, you will stay at the office of cadet for two years. At this time if you are still not ready, we will repeat the process again with a one year gap between each opportunity. Am I understood?”
The cadets nodded in response. Master Latva raised his arm and his staff began to tremble and glow. When he next spoke, his voice filled the room, burning with authority.
“Cadet Anndra, step before the bowl.”
The cadet, a shy girl with dark hair and bright eyes who always smiled at Justan but had never spoken to him, stood and walked forward to stand on the rug in front of the bowl. With hands trembling, she dipped the tip of her dagger into the waters of the bowl.
“Anndra, daughter of Argo, Cadet of the Dremaldrian Mage School, you stand today in the Hall of Majesty in front of the High Council of Wizards and the Bowl of Souls, to become an apprentice in the art of magic. Will you swear before the witnesses here to take upon you the mantle of apprentice with all seriousness?”
“I will,” she whispered and a swirl of light flowed from the tip of the master’s staff to settle about her shoulders.
“Will you promise to obey the commands of your master as soon as he has chosen you, and heed only the words of this council before him? As an apprentice of the magic arts, will you set forth an example of dignity to those without the gift of magic and to the cadets here at the school? Finally, do you swear to keep the nature of these oaths to yourself and only speak of them to another who has taken these same oaths?”
She answered in the affirmative to each of these questions and with each answer, another swirl of light settled upon her shoulders.
“Anndra, you are now called to the office of Apprentice in the DremaldrianMageSchool.” Latva smiled and stepped forward to embrace her. She shook hands with the other members of the council and was directed to leave the hall where she would be escorted back to the entrance of the RuneTower.
This process was continued with each of the cadets and Justan saw that he was going to be called last. He trembled with excitement, but his sore muscles complained and his knees ached from kneeling so long on the hard floor. He hoped that Professor Beehn would be the one to choose him as Apprentice.
Gwyrtha started to send thoughts out to him that were laced with worry and fear. Justan figured that his agitated state was confusing her, so he sent back soothing emotions and pushed her thoughts way down, where they would not interrupt his experience in this important ceremony.
Justan watched impatiently as the last student before him left the council members with a proud smile on his face. Then Master Latva looked to Justan and raised his staff.
“Cadet Justan, step before the bowl.”
Justan stood with a wince and his knees popped loudly. His face turned a little red as he fancied the sound traveling far enough to reach the council’s ears. He was so excited that his heart was in his throat.
As he stepped off of the rug, he felt strange. His chest began to burn and with each step he took forward, his heart pounded faster until, as he stood on the rug before the council, his blood roared in his ears. Here he was at the Bowl of Souls. He could barely believe it.
Justan looked down at his reflection in the bowl and he gripped the handle of the double-bladed ceremonial dagger that Lenui had given him. As he dipped the tips of both blades into the water, a quiet chanting voice echoed in the center of his mind.
Justan began to worry. Was this normal? The other cadets didn’t seem to be this agitated. But somehow the authority in Master Latva’s voice came through over that quiet chant.
“Justan, son of Faldon the Fierce, Cadet of the Dremaldrian Mage School, you stand today in the Hall of Majesty in front of the High Council of Wizards and the Bowl of Souls, to become an Apprentice in the art of magic.”
When the arcs of light settled around his shoulders with the answer to each question, the pounding of his heart and the chanting in his mind grew louder. The voice in his head was speaking in a strange tongue and Justan grew confused. Soon, he had to struggle to concentrate on what Master Latva said. He barely heard the last question and when he answered, the voice grew so loud that he could not contain it.
Master Latva grew worried at the look of confusion on Justan’s face, but passed it off as excitement. As the last arc of light settled upon the young man’s shoulders, Latva saw Justan's face turn red and his mouth begin to twitch. Then with a loudness that made every member of the council jump, Justan shouted forth in a strange tongue that was all too familiar to the ancient master.
“Oh my,” Master Latva whispered.
Justan had no clue what was happening, but it was out of his control. His lungs heaved and his mouth moved in a foreign way. A stream of words boomed forth from his mouth and the roaring in his ears pulsed and throbbed with every beat of his heart. With each chant, the words became louder and the pounding became more painful until he thought he was about to die.
Professor Beehn’s jaw dropped. “This can’t be happening,” he gasped.
All of the other wizards on the council had similar reactions except for Valtrek, whose face wore an astonished smile.
Justan raised his dagger slowly out of the water far over his head. The council watched in awe as his voice reached a crescendo. With a shout, he plunged the dual blades of his dagger back into the waters of the Bowl of Souls and a burst of energy erupted from it, enveloping him in a shroud of brilliance.
As the energy of the bowl surrounded him, the roaring of his heart ceased and the chaos of emotions that surged through him were replaced by peace. The foreign words were gone from his mind, but one word was left and it burned within him brighter than any thought he had ever had before in his life. It screamed for release until Justan spoke it forth with conviction and clarity.
“Edge!”
The council collectively gasped and an invisible energy leapt from the bowl and entered Justan’s body, fusing with him. Justan staggered back, dropping his dagger to the ground, and stared in amazement at his hands. On the back of his right hand burned a warrior’s rune and on the palm of his left hand gleamed the rune of a wizard. He had been named.
He was Edge.
Chapter Nineteen
The High Council of the DremaldrianMageSchool stared in open astonishment at the student that stood before them gazing at his rune marked hands.
“This is unbelievable,” Wizard Beehn said. Everything about the situation was unbelievable. From the moment that Justan had begun chanting the words to the naming ceremony, the Professor’s mind had been buzzing.
First of all, apprentices just aren’t named. It hadn’t happened in a thousand years and even back then there had been extenuating circumstances. But the most bizarre part of what had just happened was that Justan had been named as both a Wizard and a Warrior. As far as Professor Beehn knew, that had never happened before.
Master Latva shook his head slowly as he watched the student before him. The runes on the apprentice’s hands glared out in his mind like a blazing fire.
“Ju-” he started, then stopped himself. Latva really didn’t know what he should call the lad now. It was considered an insult to call a named warrior or wizard by his old name unless asked, but he didn’t feel comfortable calling the student by that new name yet. Instead, he called out, “Apprentice.”
Justan swayed on his feet dreamily and he looked up at the master with his hands still raised in front of him. “What has happened to me?”
“You have been named,” said another voice within the council in an almost accusatory way. It was Wizard Randolf, a prudish, but powerful wizard that had never liked Justan. “T
his is not right.”
Wizard Beehn frowned. “Now just a minute!”
A debate erupted amongst the wizards. Their voices carried long and loud in the huge hall.
Master Latva shook his head. The Hall of Majesty was a finely tuned place of magic and negative emotions tended to upset the harmony of the place. Finally, he raised his arm.
“Stop, gentlemen. This is not the place for such discussion. We must adjourn to the Council Chambers to review the matter.” With the aid of his staff, the master bent over to retrieve the student’s dagger that was lying on the ground. What he saw startled him. Numbly, he handed the weapon to the student. “You must come along. We will need you at the meeting.”
Justan turned the ceremonial dagger over in his hands. The light from the chandeliers that lit the room shimmered along the surface of the double bladed weapon. Etched in the sides of the blades were runes that matched the ones on his hands. The blade with the serrated edge was imprinted with the warrior rune and the blade with the smooth edge was imprinted with the wizard rune. He found himself looking to Professor Beehn, the one man in the room that he truly felt comfortable with.
Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) Page 20
