Eilidh tried not to show her derision at the bloodline claim. It wasn't her place to question the Prime Magus, but she had done a study on this very thing during her church training– it was the thing that had started all the trouble. Eilidh had produced a detailed thesis that, among other things, demonstrated that if every mage who claimed to have Merlyn blood in them really did have Merlyn blood, then Merlyn and each of his descendants must have had an average of approximately fifty children, at least half of which must have possessed the Life Gift.
To her, it had merely been an academic exercise. Somehow, it had transformed into a political and social weapon, with many proud families accusing others of faking bloodlines, of lying or buying their social standing. Feuds escalated into open hostility and Eilidh, already something of a social outsider at school, was shunned, bullied and even beaten. Even those who might have been sympathetic were afraid to be associated with her, lest they get the same treatment. In the end, someone hit on a way to calm things down in the capital: discredit the source. Suddenly, certain inconvenient truths about Eilidh’s origins came to light and the news spread like wildfire.
The story took on a life of its own. Truth became tainted with half-truths, exaggerations and bare-faced lies and she was tainted along with them. Her inherited condition was now, apparently, the touch of death. Still, being ostracised had its advantages– at least they stopped hurting her. They didn’t dare. They might catch something!
Until Graduation Day’s news, things had calmed down a bit. There were even a number of fellow students with whom she could have a professional discussion, but that was as far as it went.
Thinking of professional discussions reminded Eilidh of where she was and she admonished herself to pay attention. “It was no surprise when Niltsiar challenged my direct superior,” Gamaliel was saying, “for his position as Prime Magus of the Council of Mages. This is normal procedure, of course, but what happened during that challenge was far from normal.
“I was one of the three adjudicators; the highest ranking mage from each Alignment, after the two contenders. This was necessary because, as a White Mage, Niltsiar’s challenge was to be fought under a magic suppression field, to avoid any real injuries or death.
“Niltsiar opted to gradually wear him down, simply blocking the best her opponent throw at her. There was no doubt that she would win, but it would take time. Frankly bored, I began to practise my clerical Anti-Magic shield, and I was very pleased with myself when it held and I could feel no magic penetrating it.”
Eilidh understood what he meant. A magic suppression field was used in many magical contests to make them non-lethal, but one could still sense the flow of Life. How else could one keep score? But a cleric’s Anti-Magic shield would have blocked all trace of that Life flow.
Gamaliel continued, “My self-satisfaction was cut short with a blinding flash and before I knew what was happening, there were death cries all around me. Then my world went black... “...I remained unconscious for several days, with healers tending me constantly. When I finally awoke, I added my own clerical abilities, to speed the healing process. A couple of days later, when I had recovered my full strength, I received a visit from the Acting Master of Dark Magic, Drizdar.”
Eilidh had heard of him. Though he was an elf dedicated to dark magic, she’d heard he had a penchant for vaporising anyone who called him a `dark elf`. “Drizdar had been the natural person to assume control of the Council during the crisis, being the highest ranking mage not to attend the contest. He commands a natural respect both on his own merits and through his reputation as the former apprentice of AkarSel.”
Akar-Sel had been a supremely powerful renegade Warlock, who was known to be the chief architect of the terrible atrocities of the Tech Wars. Techmages designed, created and controlled magical devices, rather than using magic directly. This set them apart among the Nine Secrets. Something that led to misunderstanding, distrust and ultimately war. Although Akar-Sel died two centuries before Eilidh's generation was even born, it was history that could never, must never be forgotten. Akar-Sel turned out to be a double agent, stirring up trouble between the Techmagi and mages of the other Secrets. If not for him and his followers, the war may never have happened. He was tried for his crimes after the war and sentenced to the torment of the Turning. This spell, known only to the Executioner, entrapped his living soul within dead stone. His soul would continue to live this living death for eternity. The Turning spell was irreversible and reserved as punishment for only the most powerful renegade mages who were so dangerous that even death could not be guaranteed to stop them. It had been employed no more than a handful of times in the entire history of Mythallen.
The horrific images in Eilidh’s mind made her feel nauseous, but she fought it down to reply, “Yes, I know the history of Akar-Sel, Master.”
“Gamaliel.”
“Pardon?” “Gamaliel,” repeated the Enforcer, with a slight smile but still a serious tone of voice. “I said we would dispense with formalities and that includes titles. Between you and me, I never much cared for titles: I think they create unnecessary problems. Alas, they tend to be an unfortunate consequence of prominent positions, but I would appreciate it if you could refrain from using them.”
“I am honoured, Master - sorry Gamaliel,” she answered. “It's just hard to get used to.”
Eilidh had the strange impression of the paperweight giggling at this point, but she chose to ignore it. Gamaliel's smile flickered for a moment and then disappeared, leaving the usual Enforcer impassive stare. He continued, “Drizdar had immediately sent for the best Chronomagi in Mythallen. With the aid of about a dozen Catalysts, they managed to create a Time Image of the disturbing events. Let me show you.” Gamaliel gestured to a large, rectangular screen on wall– a Techmagic device that could display moving images. With a wave of his hand, the device began replaying the attack, along with an analysis of the Life flow. Eilidh knew her Catalyst training should be more than sufficient to identify the spells used in any contest, and yet how Niltsiar managed to dispel the magic suppression field was a complete mystery. What came next made even less sense. Niltsiar cast an Enforcer’s Nullmagic on everyone else and finally, cast a witch’s Raistlin's Revenge spell, apparently killing or stoning everyone else, before teleporting away. And all without the aid of a Catalyst.
“But that’s impossible!” Eilidh gasped. “A witch can’t use Nullmagic, and no mage can expend that much Life without a Catalyst to maintain their Life Store!” “I know,” Gamaliel agreed. “But the evidence is clear. The only reason I survived is thanks to my clerical shield. When it was hit by Niltsiar's power, my shield tried to absorb the energy, failed, collapsed and channelled the remainder into my body. Although the spell itself couldn't harm me, being hit by all that energy all but killed me, anyway. Fortunately.”
“Fortunately?” Eilidh wondered.
“It apparently convinced Niltsiar that she had killed me. If she’d thought I was still alive, I wouldn’t have been for long.”
Eilidh nodded. “Of course, even Catalysts can’t detect Cleric magic. It’s too different. That’s why it doesn’t show up on the analysis.”
“Precisely,” Gamaliel concurred.
“This is incredible, Gamaliel. I knew there had been a lot of changes in Magical Government, recently, but I never imagined this was the reason.” “We’ve been trying to keep things under wraps to give ourselves time to plan, but now with the influx of these chaos creatures, we have no choice but to act. So far the gateways to their plane of reality have eluded us, so we must go to war. After some...`persuasion`...Drizdar has agreed that I should become Prime Magus, while he takes on the mantle of Supreme War Master and Merlana assumes Guardianship of White Mages of Light.”
Merlana’s part made sense, Eilidh thought. Since she had been only third ranked White mage before the attack, while her Black and Red counterparts were both second, she could not assume leadership. However, if Drizdar had studied u
nder Akar-Sel, Eilidh found it hard to imagine how anyone could `persuade` him to do anything. It was all very interesting to Eilidh's analytical mind, but she still didn't understand what any of this had to do with her.
“You have listened patiently,” Ga maliel commended Eilidh, when he turned off the screen. At some point during the display, the paperweight had disappeared and in its place stood a turquoise blue and ruby red lamp with a tangerine shade, which she only noticed because she nearly knocked it over.
“Patience is good and I commend you for it, but doubtless you are wondering what all this has to do with you, beyond playing your small part in the war effort.”
“It would be a lie to deny it,” Eilidh agreed, carefully. “Very well, I will tell yo u. We are planning a great ceremony to mark my inauguration. Not for vanity, but for strategy. There will be many fine words of victory and glory, of honour and triumph, but they are all just so much window dressing. It is all supposed to focus Niltsiar's attentions on the war effort and, more specifically, on me. I want her to know that she did not kill me.” His voice grew louder. “I want her to know that she has erred! I want her to worry about what that error is going to cost her!” Reaching a climax, he roared, “In organising the forces of war, I will be making a lot of noise and attracting a great deal of attention! So much so,” his voice dropped suddenly, to little more than a whisper, “that Niltsiar will not notice a small party of adventurers, going quietly about a quest to secretly discover how to stop her.”
Eyes wide, Eilidh gasped in sudden understanding of the brilliance of the plan, “So in a way, this entire war is-”
“-A massive deception, yes,” Gamaliel concluded. “Meanwhile, this small party will investigate the clues about Niltsiar, discover her weakness and strike while her attention is diverted.”
“That is truly fascinating, Master, but I'm sorry, I still don't understand why this is any of my business.”
“This small party must have a leader,” Gamaliel explained. “That leader is to be you...”
Chapter 1
... That leader is to be you.
Eilidh could still hear those words echo inside her mind, even though it had been several hours since Gamaliel had said them. “So many people dream of b eing sent on a mysterious quest of vital importance to King and Country,” she grumbled to herself, “but not me. If he wanted to send a newly qualified Catalyst, why couldn't he have sent Peter or Si'lana?”
In fact, just about any of her peer group would have jumped at the chance. But instead, for reasons known only to Gamaliel himself, he had chosen Eilidh, “and that's the reality of it. That's what I have to deal with,” she reprimanded herself. “Reality is reality and no amount of wishing will change it...but it's just so...so...” Her head hurt so much, she couldn't even think of the right words.
“Pull yourself together,” she ordered herself. She often talked to herself – it wasn’t as if anybody else was interested in talking to her. “Like it or not, I am the leader of a small party of adventurers that doesn't exist yet, that is supposed to go on a quest to find something or someone, I know not what or who. I have to search the entire realm, if necessary, maybe beyond Mythallen's shores, out over the ocean. But I've only ever left Merlyon once, and that was only to go on a day trip to Baltacha with the church when I was about five years old. My party of adventurers must follow me of their own free will, and yet I’m not supposed to tell them anything - not that I know much myself!
“Oh, this is all just too much,” she muttered to herself, irritably. “It's all very well, the Leader of the Council holding a window dressing ceremony and telling me that I should go home and get some sleep! How am I supposed to sleep, when my head feels worse than when I was abducted?”
Eilidh got up then, deciding to clean her novice quarters, pack everything that she might need, and tidy away all her possessions that she had to leave behind. The church would keep it all in safe storage for her until she returned. If she returned.
“People die in adventures,” she reminded herself. She promptly told herself to shut up, and at that point she decided she was in real danger of taking this talking to herself business a bit too far. That was an interesting thought: maybe if she could plead insanity, Gamaliel would send someone else instead.
Then again, she reflected, that might just make me eminently qualified for this madness! Pushing such thoughts aside, she threw herself into her work, focussing her mind on the simple tasks at hand and generally working herself into a state of complete exhaustion. With any luck, sleep would come naturally.
Eilidh attacked her cleaning with a vigour that bordered on vicious. In fact, she found she enjoyed the physical domestic labour, making the place look better than she could ever remember. Shame she wasn’t going to be staying around long enough to enjoy it. She finished by washing all the crockery, cutlery, glassware...and that odd blue-green teapot with the purple handle, red spout and bright orange lid that always made her smile.
“Funny,” she said to herself, “this teapot reminds me of something...something about the colours...” but she was too shattered to think anymore, about anything.
At last, Eilidh lay down on her bed and closed her eyes. Her final conscious thought, before sleep overtook her, was the bizarre realisation:
I don't own a teapot!
* * * * * In the morning, Eilidh set out early, to go in search of anyone who would join her, thinking it unwise to leave Merlyon and walk into the unknown alone. The Catalyst had just stepped out of the church doorway, when she was approached by a small figure in the beige robes of a magician. Running through the crowd, the red hood of the robes slipped off its wearer's head, revealing a female hobbit, about Eilidh’s own age.
“Excuse me,” she asked, “Eilidh Hagram?”
“Yes?” the Catalyst acknowledged. “Oh,” she said, catching her breath, “thank goodness I caught you.” She giggled. “Master Gamaliel would not have been happy. I meant to come earlier but I overslept.” She gasped, “You won't tell, will you? Please promise you won't! I'd get into trouble and it doesn't happen very often, well, not too often anyway, I mean no more than most people after a tough day. Hey, have you got anything good to eat on you? I missed second breakfast this morning to make sure I caught you, which I nearly didn't. But leaving without anything in my tummy would be just terrible.” Another giggle. “I'd probably have passed out on the way here from lack of food. Lack of food makes me hungry; you ever find that? Mind you, humans don't seem to eat much from what I've seen - elves are worse though. At least dwarves know how to eat. My dad told me this funny story about the time a dwarf beat him in an eating contest. Can you believe that? The very idea of anybody able to eat a hobbit under the table! I think Dad must have been sick or something. I've never had an eating contest with a dwarf myself. I think it would be fun. Fun, fun, fun,” she giggled again. Then she blinked and asked, “What was I saying?”
“I have absolutely no idea!” Eilidh laughed good -naturedly. She couldn’t remember the last time anybody said so many words to her in a whole day, never mind in one breath. It was something of a novelty. “Why don't you start from the beginning, slowly?”
The hobbit blushed. “Tolbrietta Hobbnobb.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name, Tolbrietta Hobbnobb – but you can call me Toli, all my friends do.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Toli, but unfortunately I’m in a bit of a rush. I have to leave Merlyon,” Eilidh paused to deal with the bad taste in her mouth before adding, “on an adventure.”
“Adventure?” Toli clapped her hands and started jumping up and down. “How wonderful!” Oh please , Eilidh groaned silently. Toli snapped her fingers. “That's it! That's why I needed to see you. Sorry, I'd forget my stomach if wasn't properly weighed down with food!” She giggled. “Master Gamaliel sent me to give you these provisions, this bag of gold and this accompanying letter.”
Eilidh accepted these gifts, gratefully, putting the gold and food s
afely away, before examining the note:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Eilidh,
There are a number of important things I would say to you, so please read carefully. Firstly, I draw your attention to the provisions. You should take charge of them for now, until you can build up a party you can trust not to waste them. You will have to buy more as you go on, but carry only the bare minimum provisions. You should travel light so that you can move quickly. There’s no telling what interesting things you will discover on your travels and you don't want to run out of space in your pack because of all the food although I suspect the hobbit messenger I am sending might not entirely agree. As a cleric myself, I am qualified to point out the value of clerical powers to create food and drink out of the ether. So, a cleric in your party could end any starvation worries, but even then, whenever another safe source of food presents itself, you should not hesitate to capitalise on your good fortune. Waste nothing: not food, not water, not energy and not magic.
Secondly, the bag contains 600 gold pieces. This large sum of money is my gift to you and you alone. It should be spent wisely. Some may be spent on magical training, but the majority is to be used to obtain the most valuable (and most costly) thing in all of Majaos: knowledge.
Thirdly, you should never have more than a dozen persons in your party at any one time, so as not to draw attention to yourself. Be careful whom you allow to join your party: people (as all things) are not always what they seem.
Finally, I wish you success, for all our sakes. I do not expect to see you again until you have completed your quest. Then I will welcome you and whatever party you assemble into my tower to receive the honour you deserve. Then we will meet not as Prime Magus of the Council and novice Catalyst, but as friends.
Yours in Magic,
Gamaliel.
Majaos y Natus
Chosen (Majaos Book 1) Page 2
