Michael had moved his gaze towards the fire, but at the revelation his eyes shot back to Joh, a stab of pain hitting his own heart at the thought of a child being put in such torment.
“When the Guardian visited us after we learned of it…”
Joh paused now, his eyes showing emptiness as he was recalling the event, “When he visited, he congratulated the girl who had achieved so complete a humiliation.”
Michael’s eyes widened involuntarily, “No!” he said. “Surely no-one could be pleased that a kid had killed himself? No-one can be that… I don’t know, evil.”
“The Guardian does not think of good or evil,” said Joh, his speech returning to a matter-of-fact tone. “He thinks only of achieving his aims. Anything that furthers those aims, he supports. Anything that opposes them, he crushes. When my friend ended his life at barely eleven summers, the Guardian had no comprehension of a tragedy that had struck for the boy and his family. He could see only the genius of a girl who had achieved that end using only words. He saw a talent that would be of great benefit for many summers to come.”
The old man paused again, temporarily lost in his sorrowful memories, and Michael waited briefly before speaking, “The boy… you said he was your friend? I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you.”
“Oh, well that is the thing,” replied Joh, sighing deeply. “You see, though I am ashamed to say so now, my sorrow did not last long. No, when the Guardian spoke to us of the achievement,” he almost spat the word, “my grieving ended. I began to see only the technical brilliance of using words to achieve the ruin of another. I soon pitied my friend rather than sorrowed for him. His end had been his own fault, I reasoned, for being too weak for our games. He had not been worthy of his place at the Palace.”
The old man now looked closely at Michael, his eyes studying his face.
“This is one of the great mysteries about you, Michael,” he said carefully. “Although perhaps we were all children who delighted in manipulating others to our own ends before the Guardian discovered us, none of us would have delighted in torturing another to his death before our Palace education. But it was not the education on its own that altered our natures. Rather, it was the Guardian himself.”
Michael was surprised to hear that Joh considered him a mystery, and was listening intently to learn why.
“You know already that the Guardian is in fact Jashmarael, the son of the great Ashael. What powers that bestows upon him even I cannot tell, but for one: he can corrupt any heart. I have seen souls that are pure enter his presence, only to leave within a mark, full of hatred or despair.
“It is not in the words he speaks,” Joh’s eyes drifted to the far wall, again looking distant as if recalling a terrifying memory, his words now slow and deliberate, “If it were the power of his voice, he could gather the whole city together and corrupt them as one. No, he darkens a soul one at a time, somehow reaching in to a person’s very being and twisting their core. And so it was with us: he would meet with us individually. I felt so proud to be meeting the Guardian on my own. How important I had become! I did not realise that in each visit my heart was blackening a little more. It is more difficult with children, but over many summers…”
He allowed his thought to trail off and looked again at Michael; a mix of puzzlement and wonder in his gaze, “And yet here you sit, Michael. One who has spoken to him every few dawns for five moons. Your desires should now be as dark as the deepest caverns in the earth, but they are not. How is it that your own soul has not been overcome?”
Michael shook his head, still trying to take in everything he was being told, “Maybe he didn’t try with me.”
“He will have made the attempt,” Joh quickly answered, certainty in his voice, “He would consider any meeting without such an endeavour a waste of his time. He will have put all his effort into touching your heart, and yet he failed. How? Until today, I would have said it was impossible.”
That he was immune to Jashmarael’s evil touch seemed unlikely. Michael knew there was nothing special about himself. A quick moment’s introspection brought a realisation to him, and the words tumbled from his mouth, “He didn’t need to.”
Joh cocked his head to the side, silently asking Michael to elaborate, and so he continued, “I’ve never been a very nice person. I get angry too often; too easily. I’ve never really had any friends.” He was about to add, apart from Pava and Samo, but he now knew that their friendship had been only a ruse. Aneh’s face unexpectedly appeared in his mind, but he hurriedly pushed that away too. “That has to be it. My soul is already black enough, I guess.”
He was surprised to see Joh smile at his words: a gentle smile that made him appear grandfatherly. “No,” he quietly responded, “I have seen dark souls. I have… been such a soul. And I can assure you, young man, that the shadows that touch your own heart are unlike those of Jashmarael. Perhaps you have anger that I have not seen, but you do not hate. You do not seek the misery of others.”
At Michael’s uncertain expression, he continued, “You were dismayed when I told of my young friend who ended his own life. You care for Eramica and have sought her safety. One who was touched by Jashmarael would not feel so.”
“She’s my mother,” Michael explained.
Joh shook his head, “Mother or not, you would not seek her safety unless for gain of some kind. Jashmarael sought to kill his own mother, remember.”
They sat in silence again, Michael digesting what the old man had said. He remained unconvinced that Jashmarael’s darkness hadn’t touched him, but Joh seemed certain; and he appeared to have a lot more experience and knowledge of these things, so eventually accepted what he said, pushing his doubts to the back of his mind.
Finally breaking the silence, he ventured, “I’ve spent most of my life in another world. Maybe it’s got something to do with that?” He couldn’t understand how his life in England would have given him any protection against the evil Joh had described, but couldn’t think of any other explanation.
“Perhaps,” Joh sounded unconvinced, but if he considered other possibilities, he kept them to himself.
“But whatever the cause, that is why he will have attempted a Ravager,” Joh eventually said.
“What’s a Ravager?”
Joh briefly looked in Michael’s eyes, then turned them to the fireplace as he answered, “It is not only children with a skill for cunning and manipulation the Guardian seeks when he assesses the children, but also those who have a particular ability like his own, to touch – to poison – another’s soul. If he identifies any with such a talent, he will also draw them to the Palace. He will also instruct them in the arts of manipulation, but adds to their education that of seduction. And as they grow, he will blacken their hearts until they too utterly serve his purpose.
“None are as powerful as he, of course,” he added, “For most, to be able to more fully touch another’s soul they must have physical contact. With a look perhaps one so trained may plant a desire in another, but for that desire to truly blossom into the evil that is sought, they must touch. The greater, the more… intimate… the touch, the more powerful the connection; the stronger control she, or he, will have. Ultimately, a soul may be completely destroyed – ravaged – by such a person; hence the title they carry of Ravagers. I have witnessed good and decent men willingly perform horrors after an encounter.”
As Joh looked again to the floor, Michael couldn’t help but think of Pava. He had liked her from the moment they met. And he had instantly considered her attractive. But he hadn’t felt the strong physical attraction until after she had placed her hand on his cheek only two evenings past. Then, last night, she had tried to seduce him. He remembered the feelings. The pull had been tremendous: irresistible. If it hadn’t been for the warning from his dream that had somehow broken the spell, he would have been powerless. The more intimate the touch, the greater the connection, Joh had said. What had she planned for his soul, he wondered, a chi
ll running down his spine.
He also remembered the warning from his dream, You must try to release yourself. Even as he had heeded it, he hadn’t known just what terror he was evading. Closing his eyes briefly, he thanked whatever providence had allowed the prophetic voice to enter his dream.
He also realised just how much planning had gone into the attempt to take his soul. It had been moons ago that he had met Pava. Was she really looking for symbols in old books when they had met? Did she have a genuine interest in the architecture of the buildings around the Palace, or had she learned it in preparation for her attempt to get close to him? And why had she waited so long before she touched him the way she did? Did Jashmarael want to exhaust his own attempts to invade his soul before instructing Pava to act? Or had Michael’s apparent resistance to Jashmarael’s efforts prompted a change to the way the Ravager usually worked: a feeling of friendship somehow enhancing Pava’s grasp on him?
“But why?” he finally asked. “Why go to so much trouble with me? I mean, I’m a nobody. What’s it all for?”
Again Joh smiled, a small laugh this time coming from his mouth. “Indeed,” he said, “You only were sent to another world as a baby, have mysteriously returned as a man, and have shown remarkable resistance to the great Jashmarael, before whom none before have been able to stand.”
Following another small chuckle, he continued, “No, Michael, for these reasons alone Jashmarael would greatly desire to own your soul. To yourself, perhaps, your life seems quite ordinary; your worth no more than any other. But to Jashmarael, you will be a wonder.
“The question is not, why does Jashmarael go to so much trouble with such a wonder. That much is obvious. Rather, the question is, what ends does he intend your wonder to serve?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
Farewell
An evil man will impose cruelty on others, thinking that such oppression will erode the will. And often that will be the case. However, betimes a soul arises against whom such punishments serve only as a forge to fashion a character that has the strength to rise above life’s malice. Thus, from such cruelty rise heroes.
From the Wisdom of Ashael
***
Something in their discussion had caused Joh to cease his own story. Michael had asked more about the Ravagers, still struggling to understand how Pava could have deceived him in the way she had.
But Joh had said he needed to get some food for an evening meal and had excused himself, promising to answer Michael’s question when he returned. The old man had left looking pensive, and Michael couldn’t help but think that the real reason he had departed was to get some fresh air to help ponder the mystery that Michael evidently was.
As Eramica hadn’t yet returned, that left Michael on his own in the old man’s home, and after changing into the clothes that Joh had provided, he returned to the window to explore the Ashput, as Joh and Eramica had called it, from the safety of the hut.
When he had cast his gaze through the window earlier, he had been focussed on the street in front of Joh’s dwelling, and the people who moved back and forth. This time he looked beyond the street and nearby buildings, to the far wall that encircled the community. As he did, he now noticed that the wall was topped with crenellations, and his gut felt sick at the thought of city archers standing atop them, threatening the impoverished people below. Realisation struck that this could be as much a prison as a home for the people who lived here. He briefly wondered how his mother had managed to sneak them in, but decided to leave that question for now. There were no guards he could see atop the walls, and perhaps it was only manned if there was a perceived threat from the residents.
Continuing to scan what he could of the walls, his eyes rested on something that drew him. He initially couldn’t understand why it struck him as odd. It was the top of a domed building just peaking above the wall to the north. Though he couldn’t see more than the roof, he suddenly remembered the domed building he had noticed in the crystal medallion as he had been sitting in his flat in England so many moons before. The building in the crystal had seemed to sparkle, and he had been intrigued by it. But until this moment he had forgotten about it. Although he could only see the top of the building, he was sure that it was the same structure.
Samo had shown him much of Aperocalsa, and Michael wondered why he had neglected to even mention such a large building. He suddenly realised, too, that the basic structure of the buildings he had seen in Aperocalsa wouldn’t have been out of place in England. Many were beautiful, of course, with intricate carvings: many of the fine details here would have been considered exotic and new by those in England. But their essential shapes were the same: square or rectangular, pointed and sloped roofs, square windows. He hadn’t seen a single round or domed building here… until now. There was something that pulled at him to try to seek the structure, but he pushed it away, knowing that it would be foolish to run after it in their present state of hiding. He reminded himself that his mother could be in danger, and leaving the city was what they needed to do for her wellbeing, not go looking at a piece of architecture.
Lost in his thoughts as he was, he had to jolt himself into awareness on a couple of occasions to remember to throw another small log onto the fire as Joh had instructed, and each time was pleased when the wood finally caught alight, alleviating worry that he had let the fire grow too dim.
Having so many thoughts and questions, the time passed quickly and it was late afternoon by the time Joh returned with a basket full of food. He quickly chopped some vegetables and threw a small piece of meat into a pot. He then carefully placed it in the fire with a lid covering it, before settling back into his seat, his blue eyes again returning to Michael.
It was Michael who spoke first, though, a nagging feeling finally having formed into a question. “You’ve explained how Jashmarael makes people serve him. And also said that you were close to him.” He looked carefully at the old man as he framed his question, “So why did you leave him? Why did you end up here? What happened? In fact, how did you get away?”
Joh smiled at the questions, but Michael could see that it was a sad smile, the old man’s eyes moistening slightly. Part of Michael felt sorry if his rapid inquisition had caused the man pain, but if Jashmarael was as dangerous as it now seemed he was, he needed to know why – and how – even one of the Guardian’s closest advisers could free himself.
The old man took a deep breath, then paused and took another before beginning, “Why is it that all men ultimately are made fools?” Then answering his own question, he continued, “It was for a woman, of course.
“I will not bore you with the details,” he quickly went on, “Suffice it to say, that though I had risen far in my career and was considered by all, close to the Guardian, everything changed when I met her. Jashmarael was pleased. He sought all those close to him to know precious relationships. In the back of my mind, I suppose I had always puzzled as to why one who could be happy for the death of a child, and ignorant of the pain of it for the boy’s family, should desire his closest servants to Join with another. On the surface, it appears inconsistent. But I discovered the reason soon enough.
“Avhe was my superior in all matters. Her intellect was above all. She was witty, talented in more ways than I can count. And, oh was she a beauty for the eye! Never a dawn passed, but first sight of her caused my heart to race. I was the luckiest man in all of Aylosia. Even today as we sit here in such humble circumstances, I can see in my mind the curls of her rich auburn hair. I can smell the sweet scent of her soft skin, and my worries almost vanish. The troubles of my life become nothing with only her memory.”
Joh had closed his eyes as he had described Avhe to him, but opened them again, the sadness returning to them, “Almost.
“It was after we were Joined, promised to each other for the remainder of our lives, that he sent a Ravager,” he continued, a bitterness now entering his tone.
“I had loved my Avhe with all my heart and more. I wo
uld have attempted any deed, suffered any punishment. I would have sought out the Seer himself, or hurled myself to my doom, if she had but asked it of me.”
Closing his eyes and bowing his head, Michael saw a tear fall from the man’s cheek. After waiting in silence for a moment, he asked, “What happened?”
“It is what the Guardian desires,” Joh spoke as if he hadn’t heard his young guest. “Though he had my soul, he did not have my heart, for that belonged to Avhe. Even so it, too, served his purpose.
“I have already explained that none may resist a Ravager. It starts with a harmless smile. Such a glance perhaps creates the tiniest hint of desire, but even the weakest of men may resist that if they wish. But then follows the gentlest innocent touch; another strand added to her slowly growing cords.”
There was silence again as Joh fought himself with the memories. Finally, he again spoke, “And so it goes, until the binding cannot be broken, betrayal becomes inevitable… and complete.”
He sighed again, taking a deep breath before resuming, “Once that thing,” he spat the word, “had left me, only then I realised what I had done. Oh my Avhe, what had I done to you! How could I?
“I did not tell her, of course. I had committed a great evil against my beloved. By telling her of my deed, it would have pained her, doubling the harm I had done. So I kept the tale of my weakness to myself. But that too is what the Guardian desired. Indeed, it is why he had sent the Ravager to me.”
The old man had composed himself and was again looking at Michael, “For though the Guardian’s advisers have had their souls poisoned, even so there is usually some small part of our conscience that remains; a deed that may seem great or small that still we would seek to avoid; the tiniest corner of our souls that is not completely lost.
“For me, when he commanded that I… well, when he commanded I undertake such a task that was too evil even for me, I sought to refuse. That is when he spoke of my dalliance with the Ravager. How would your Avhe feel about such a thing? he enquired, as if the question were innocent. And thus I was torn between performing a great evil, or the breaking my beloved’s heart. I could not break her heart, and so…”
Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 27
