by Lisa Lowell
And so, over the next three days, as the sorcerers approached, the Wall slowly emerged, from the base of the Right Tower toward the mountains where Vamilion stood to oversee his creation. Together they worked almost constantly, crafting it too high to climb easily, higher than the trees around it and the gray, polished surface loomed out of nowhere, cutting across well-traveled roads, blocking creeks that normally would feed into the Don. With Vamilion's affinity for stone and Owailion's expertise for engineering they were able to craft three miles of barrier in a day, deliberately building right in front of the incoming invaders. While it would not block them physically for long, the intimidation of encountering such an obstacle in the middle of the forest where none was before, might make them hesitate. The Wise Ones needed that hesitation, or they would end up in a pitched magical battle; three against hundreds. They needed to give these Outlanders a reason to leave.
Finally, when the Wall stretched beyond the Right to the horizon Honiea went to retrieve Vamilion and bring him back to his handiwork for the final confrontation. He was exhausted after the long hauling of stones from three thousand miles away, but that couldn't be helped. He was the only one who could sense the ley lines just beyond the Wall and the next phase of their plan demanded that skill. They had built as much of the barrier as they could before the sorcerers arrived but now they must stop building and prepare for the standoff.
All three of the Wise Ones climbed on top of the Wall as the sun began to rise. With the dawn light in their eyes, and the first warm day of the season facing them, they stood ready to challenge the Outlanders who had come. All the preparations set and from the safety of a sealed and magically defended obstacle, the Wise Ones made a stoic defense.
And hundreds of Outlanders gathered at the base of the Wall. Honiea could sense them; on horses, in grand carriages, and even a few moving about as something other than human. The lure of the Land, with its open territory and almost limitless, untapped potential made them covet the place of which many may had only heard. Drake must have told them something, for they came directly up a strong ley line Vamilion had marked on his map that ran right under the Vamilion Mountains and out into the forest. It must have lured them in and now they found it cut off. So they didn't know that Vamilion had broken off all the ley lines on the west side of the Wall.
Owailion stood atop the Wall in his royal regalia, white leather studded with diamonds and gold inlay. In his hand he held a platinum sword and in the other, a globe of crystal. What this globe accomplished, Honiea could only guess, but she hoped to discover more soon. For her own part, she had returned to the lovely embroidered lavender gown. This time she also wore a corset of silver steel, adorned with lilies and at her back she boasted a crystal quiver full of arrows she didn't know how to use and in her hand, a silver bow. Vamilion's appearance complemented hers, with armor etched with mountain scenes and in one hand a stone hammer while in the other, he held a sword that boasted a blood-red pommel. They must have made an impressive display to the Outlanders who looked up at them.
Owailion peered down over the forest and saw the dumbfounded eyes of the Outlanders and smiled. “Stop,” he said in the language of the Land, speaking softly and letting magic amplify his voice toward the ground where it rippled through the gathering. “You may come no farther.”
Honiea could hear them chattering in confusion or wonder. Perhaps they did not understand his language but Vamilion did and shared privately what words echoed up to them atop the Wall. “They are bewildered, for they did not know that we knew they were coming. They are amazed by the Wall and wonder where the power to build it is coming from. Perhaps it is an illusion, they guess.”
“Then show them,” Honiea suggested.
Vamilion, the only one of the three who could sense the ley lines, took the frayed edge of the line east of the Wall and directed its energy right into the structure they had built, reinforcing it beyond even their own power to do so. The magic in the ley line began flowing into the stone and the Wall soaked it up, draining it as fast as the river of magic filled. Vamilion even used the ley line to continue the illusion of more Wall even though it had not been built as yet. The appearance of stone spread and pushed into the sea and up into the Great Chain, completing the border of the Land. It said emphatically that no one may pass this border without permission and magic would defend the line.
As the ley line's power became unavailable some of the sorcerers began to faint, wavering in their power as the Wall sucked their lifeblood from them. Honiea saw this as a signal and brought forth her prisoner. She broke the invisibility spell she maintained over Drake and he staggered forward so those below could see.
Then she raised her voice to be heard by them. “This is what will happen to any sorcerer who enters the Land from now on. There are no ley lines west of here any longer and this one you followed now feeds the barrier of this Wall. Do you wish to become a witless baby like Drake? If so, challenge us and suffer as he has.”
“You have no power for this!” someone shouted up toward the three Wise Ones, using magic to be heard. “You could not break the ley lines. A sorcerer such as Drake could not be overcome. This is an illusion and we will see how long your magic Wall can last.”
So Owailion revealed their next step. He allowed the guards they had prepared to appear. These soldiers, in front of the entire assembly, carefully tied a rope around Drake's neck with the knot at the back of his head. Then Honiea whispered in Drake's ear. “Neeorm, sit on the edge of the Wall.” Drake did as ordered, not even focusing out over the forest or to where his compatriots awaited him while the soldiers held his leash carefully. Then Honiea whispered once again, “Neeorm, go over the edge of the Wall.”
Drake obeyed. He began to strangle as he fell, but the soldiers lowered him ever so slowly so he would not break his neck. The horrified Outlanders began shouting out spells, trying to cut the rope, or blast pure waves of power at the Wall to break the enchantments on it. Nothing touched Drake, the Wall or anyone atop the structure. Owailion's crystal globe projected a shimmering glass-like shield over the affected area, pushing away even the few trees that had survived the Wall's excavation. Then when Drakes body had reached half way down the side of the Wall the soldiers stopped lowering their victim. He was out of range to rescue physically but fully on display against the side of the Wall. On instinct, the witless sorcerer kicked and strangled, beating his heels against the stone but he never uttered even a moan of pain. As the blasts of power hit at the Wall, he didn't possess the wits cry out in alarm.
Someone below in the forest must have known Drake's true name, for he shouted up to the struggling body. “Neeorm, break the rope.” Nothing happened though as he continued to thrash and struggle for every breath. Drake did not have the magic or physical ability to break through his noose and though he tried to obey, it was hopeless.
“Have we made ourselves clear? There will be no magic in the Land but Wise One magic. You are not welcome here. We protect the people and will cut off any who mean this Land harm,” Honiea announced down into the forest for all to hear. “I have complete control of him and all the ley lines have been shattered. You will gain nothing here. Go back to your homes and leave the Land in peace.”
The blasts and curses continued to flow up from the forest and smashed against the Wall that did not even tremble. Then Vamilion raised his hands and the earthquakes began. The startled horses bolted and great cracks in the earth swallowed those unable to escape magically. The Outlander's power thrown against the Wall flickered as even that last ley line dried up and slid into the earth to become part of the well magic. Then finally Owailion invoked his crystal globe again. A wave of blue light pushed out from the orb he held, brushing away everything it encountered. Trees snapped and men were washed away like a tsunami swept them ahead of the force. He continued to expand it until all nine miles of the wall was protected under his shield and the Outlanders could no longer be seen. The forest, turned into splinters, be
gan to glow with a blue fire and erupted with pent up magic that pushed eastward into Demion, burning away the shelter of anyone who hoped to approach the Wall. No one came back to challenge them. The Outlanders fled, having endured long enough with weak ley lines and the strange magic of the Land.
Accordingly Owailion pulled his blue shield back into the globe and motioned for the men to pull the husk of Drake back up onto the top of the Wall. He was dead; strangled, or weakened beyond breathing, no one could tell. With a sigh Owailion instructed the soldiers to return to Right and bury the corpse.
Meanwhile Vamilion sat down with his legs over the lip of the Wall and looked out over the devastation they had caused and wondered if they dare relax. Would the intimidation of Wise One power be enough to keep the Outlanders away, or would a true face to face battle still be required? He must have been sharing that thought absently, for Honiea came to him and sat down as well.
“Probably not forever, but for now,” she commented simply.
Vamilion sighed. “I was wrong.”
“About what?” she asked as she watched Owailion magically lowering the soldiers down the western side, off the Wall, returning them to Right where there would probably be a permanent garrison now that they had a physical border to defend.
“Many things, but most especially about you. You are more than a Talisman for me. You are an exquisite jewel. I would not have thought of this kind of display. Neither would Owailion. We need you to keep us from going mad. There is a reason Wise Ones come in pairs. We might not require a mate but we are far better a person when we have that other with us. I was also wrong to not have sought you earlier. I should have protected you as well as kept my oath to Paget. There must have been a better way. It would have prevented much of the foolish fighting Owailion and I have done and so much that was…wrong, would not have happened to you. I'm sorry you had to endure the Soul Eater.”
“Is this true, what I hear?” Owailion mocked from several feet away. “Is Vamilion actually admitting he should have followed my advice far earlier and gone Seeking for his mate?” His sarcasm felt less than playful given his normal sour attitude, but from Owailion this came as practically a joke.
“I was admitting that to her, not to you. I'll take her advice over yours every time,” Vamilion commented in a reluctant humility. Then quite deliberately he reached for Honiea's hand, taking it in his, holding it and tracing the lines in her palm, as if memorizing them. He felt fascination for the shape and gentle touch she could manage with these healing hands. Then he continued as if Owailion hadn't interrupted. “And I suppose that means I have to ask you if you will wait for me to finish building this Wall before we do much more…in a relationship. It might take time for me to be ready. Will you wait?”
Honiea sighed, thinking about all the mending there remained to do. She wanted to go meet every village healer and share candles with them. She needed to go speak with the Apothecary and finally introduce herself to him. Another Talisman awaited her to find as well before she could finally break the seal on her palace, though she doubted she would spend much time there, given her gifts. She technically was no longer married, since Drake had died, so she was free now, but of course she would wait for Vamilion to overcome his grief for Paget. She felt not a drop of loss for Drake's demise. She could occupy herself for as long as it took and looked forward with anticipation. With an eternal life and calling, she could afford to be patient.
However, for one thing she did not have to wait. Tentatively Vamilion reached out and hesitatingly lifted her chin so he could see her deep green eyes. “May I kiss you?” he asked shyly, like he had never done this before. In a strange way he had not and neither had she. To both of them, that kiss was the first of an eternity.
Epilogue
He hiked up the mountainside rather than going instantly. He had to think about things before he attempted this. Somehow it was important that he tell someone, anyone, about what he was going to do. And if the only other person in the world to care wasn't a human….well, he had to try. He had four years until the volcano erupted again and if he didn't do this now, he might never get a chance again. And so, Owailion walked slowly up the slopes of Jonjonel, his birthplace, at least in the Land.
At the top he looked back over the terrain and was once again impressed. The Land was a beautiful place and always had been. To the west he saw the ocean, blue and reflecting back the sun at him. To the south he saw the green blanket of the Fallon Forest stretching beyond the horizon. To the east he saw the beginnings of the Great Chain Mountains where the new Queen would soon be setting up her home. And to the north the tundra spread for miles in a frosting of lavender, pink, white and yellow flowers that would remain only for a few weeks during this, the height of summer. He had hoped to see much of this untouched, but now it was open to invasion and he must protect the Land.
He must protect it from Owailion himself as well. He felt miserable with what he had done. Vamilion and Honiea were right in accusing him of manipulating them and their magic for his own ends. Did the ends justify the means? He wanted to protect the Land and reseal it from the Outlanders that invaded. Wasn't that a worthy goal? He had thought so, but when his efforts to crack the ley lines and beat back the invaders allowed Honiea to be enslaved and had forced Vamilion to break his oaths and his back, well that went too far and Owailion now acknowledged it. He had become a danger to the Land.
But he still had goals. He could not stop all the invaders. He had to admit that most of the immigration into this empty Land had come as a benefit. He would never get sixteen Wise Ones and reseal the Land if he never let someone in.
The doors were open now. Vamilion and Honiea would teach and invite new Wise Ones. They needed no help from him, especially if his aid was toxic and manipulative. It would be better if he stayed out of the way, in his own palace and let the world rest from his efforts. But part of him still wanted the approval from a higher authority of his decision to become a hermit. He could pray about it but his prayers remained unanswered, at least in the obvious manner.
So he came here to Jonjonel for the next best thing. With his mind Owailion reached out into the sky from this tallest spot in the Land, seeking the mind of his mentor, hoping Mohan would still waken and talk him out of some foolishness before he committed himself to a life without human interaction.
“Mohan, are you awake?” Owailion asked desperately and apologetic, like a little boy afraid of the dark. “I want to tell you something. I've done something terrible. I've hurt the only friends I have and they might not forgive me. Are you there, old friend?”
He heard no reply from anyone; not the dragon, if he was even out there, or God, who Owailion knew was always there, even if He did not make Himself known. Instead Owailion looked up to see clouds gathering, thick and stormy, even in the otherwise clear weather. He knew what this meant and fell down onto his knees and looked down, not wanting to even see the storm that meant his chastisement approached.
“My son, you are so torn. Where did you set your hope? Did you give up?” the voice from his dreams echoed in his head once again. “Why?”
Owailion sighed. “There is no excuse for losing hope except that I lost Raimi too. I need her like I need magic to stay alive. How can I go on? I hurt everyone around me when I try to find a way to bring her back, making it worse.”
“You are like a stone, standing alone, worn away before its time. When you stand alone, you protect nothing, build nothing and are worth nothing. The other Wise Ones as they come will each protect you and give you a key to finding what you have lost. Do not shut them out. Be patient. You must not give up hope or you will lose the chance to retrieve your companion. Every Wise One to come will have something to help you or remind you of what you are pursuing. Have hope, Owailion, and she will come.”
Owailion looked up at the glowing storm clouds. Could he believe this message? Always, despite the presence of clouds, he felt nothing but love from God. However, Owailion had
lost so much he had let his cynicism block out God's voice. But Owailion clung to that promised hope. With all the power at his disposal and all the time in the world, he still needed to be reassured that he could do this.
A second voice abruptly impinged on his awareness, deep, grumbling and half asleep. “Yes, and now be good and go say you're sorry.” Then Mohan went back to his interrupted nap.
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About the Author
Lisa Lowell was born in 1967 into a large family full of hands-on artists, in southern Oregon. In an effort to avoid conflict, her art of choice was always writing, something both grandmothers taught her. She started with poetry at six on her grandmother's ancient manual typewriter. By her teens she moved on to pen and paper and produced gloomy, angst-ridden fantasy during adolescence. Her mother claims that Lisa shut the door and never came out until she left for university. During this time she felt compelled to draw illustrations throughout the margins that helped supplement her neglect of adjectives and consistent story lines.
