by Pedro Urvi
Ivar was shaking his head. “It’s been attempted before, and you know that... as well as how badly the matter ended,”
“We’ll be more careful,” Gisli said.
Lasgol was deeply unhappy about the turn the conversation was taking. What was it that had happened before? How badly had it ended? Was it going to happen to him too?
“Lasgol’s potential is undeniable,” Annika said.
“Let me remind you all that one candidate came through.”
“The candidate was on the point of death,” Engla pointed out.
“Yes, but the candidate didn’t die.”
Engla shook her head. “I repeat my refusal. I don’t want him to die or end up with his mind affected.”
“Nor do I,” Ivar agreed. “The way to follow is that of the Path of the Specialist, exactly as we know it.”
“Your reluctance is duly noted,” Sigrid told them. “But it’s three against two, so we’ll continue. Of course, that is if Lasgol grants us permission.” All eyes turned to him.
Lasgol did not like this at all. He knew the experiment involved a risk he was very clear about that. But if he refused, Camu would be in danger, and he could not let that happen. So after thinking for a moment and summoning up his courage, he said: “Go ahead.”
“Fantastic,” said Sigrid, and her eyes lit up with excitement.
Annika took out a container from the Ranger’s belt she wore under her heavy winter coat. It contained a blue ointment, which she applied to Lasgol’s forehead and the back of his neck. This completely unsettled him. What were they going to do to him?
“Go to the foot of the frozen dragon,” Sigrid said.
The moment he came close, he felt the power that emanated from it. He felt it reaching his forehead and the nape of his neck, as if attracted by the ointment Annika had applied. He focused, closing his eyes, and searched for his inner energy. He found it in the form of a quiet pool in his chest, which is how he visualized it in his mind. Suddenly he realized that something was wrong. He found that the external power of the ice dragon was feeding that inner well, as if it were rain falling on his pool and adding to it. He did not like this one little bit. His own power and that external one were mixing in his inner pool, and he began to feel very nervous.
He felt the power invading him. “I... I don’t like this...” he muttered.
They were using magic, in a way he would never have believed possible. They were attracting it with that bluish ointment. The ice of the dragon was emitting it, and now his body was receiving it. This was very dangerous, above all because there was no mage here to control the magic in case things went wrong. He was the only one there with the Gift, and he had no idea how to control that arcane power that was affecting him. Nor did he know what consequences it would have.
“This... isn’t safe...” he stammered.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be controlling the experiment,” Sigrid said.
She showed him her staff. When she struck the ground with it there was a flash, and the flow of power from the dragon to Lasgol was interrupted. He understood; Sigrid did not have the Gift herself, but the staff was enchanted and had power of its own. It could cut the flow of power from the dragon to his person. Even so, he was not at all convinced that this was safe. Engla and Ivar’s objections were beginning to make a lot of sense.
Annika came to him and took a potion from her Ranger’s belt.
“This is to prepare your mind and assist the experiment.”
Lasgol watched her pour it into a glass. The color of the liquid was purple, and this was a bad sign. In general the purple preparations were hallucinogenic, or else poisonous. He tried to remember any purple potion they had learnt to prepare that was beneficial for the human system, and he could not. Not one.
“I hope it’ll help me with the cold,” Lasgol joked, not sounding very convinced.
Annika smiled. “It will.”
He drank and immediately began to feel strange. This potion was stronger than the ones he had had before, a great deal more. He began to feel hazy, his vision blurred and he could barely keep his balance.
Annika held him up. “Easy, let it take effect.”
He relaxed and let the potion spread through his head. The fuzziness slowly passed, leaving a haze in his mind, an enveloping mist.
“You’ll feel all right in a moment,” Annika assured him. She put her hand on the back of his neck and started to massage it.
And it was true that he began to feel better, so that after a moment he was himself again. The fog had a pleasant effect on his mind. Or the massage; he was not sure which of the two, probably the combination of both.
Annika took out a second potion and poured it into the glass. This one was blue-black. It was not a good sign either.
“It’s time to enhance the effect of the potion,” Annika said. “Drink it.”
Judging by Engla and Ivar’s worried expressions, he knew the dangerous part was coming now, and he could still pull back. But he took a deep breath and made his decision: he would go on. He would not put Camu at risk.
He nodded, took the glass Annika was offering him, and drank.
Sigrid, Annika, Engla, Ivar and Gisli kept their eyes fixed on him while the potion began to take effect. Then something exploded in his mind and a terrible pain made him put his hands to his head.
Annika went on massaging the back of his neck and his forehead. “Relax, it’ll soon pass.”
For a long moment a sharp pain in his mind prevented him from thinking, as though one dagger were stabbing his forehead and another the back of his neck. The intensity of the pain began to fade, and a few moments later it was gone.
“I’m... I’m feeling better...”
Sigrid smiled, and Annika stepped back from him.
He felt better, much better. Suddenly he felt nimbler, stronger, with enhanced reflexes. It was as though he had invoked several of his skills, except that he had done nothing of the sort. He closed his eyes, and as he concentrated, he noticed that the power of the ice dragon was once again entering his body through his forehead and the back of his neck. He realized that Sigrid was not stopping it. She wanted it to do this. It was part of the experiment.
“Don’t resist, let the potions and the power of this place work on your mind and prepare you for the test.”
Lasgol thought that perhaps he might stop the external flow by using his power. But that was precisely what Sigrid was asking him not to do. He thought about it and decided not to interfere. He would go on with the experiment, even if he did not like the idea in the least.
“It’s your turn,” Sigrid said to the four Elder Specialists.
Annika rubbed the ointment on their foreheads and the backs of their necks, then did the same with herself. She, Engla, Ivar and Gisli came to stand around Lasgol in a circle, holding hands. They closed their eyes and Lasgol, in the middle of the circle, did the same. He concentrated, then opened them again, and saw something truly extraordinary. He saw the arcane power of the ice dragon entering the minds of the Elders, just as it had with his own. Blue energy went from the dragon to them, and to himself. The particles formed sinuous arcs. He noticed something else: now the influx was also flowing from the minds of the Elders to his own.
“Let the test begin,” Sigrid said in a ceremonial voice.
Lasgol swallowed and gave himself into the hands of the Ice Gods.
Chapter 33
Lasgol felt his mind being sent somewhere else, as if it had been carried away into the air and he was unable to hold it back. He now found himself in a frozen landscape, with the snow reaching to his knees. The ground was a white blanket stretching as far as a forest ahead which seemed frozen in ice and frost. It was cold, so that steam came out of his mouth when he breathed, but for some strange reason he could not feel that cold.
Suddenly six Rangers came out of the forest, all wearing the mottled cloaks of Ranger Specialists. They were carrying bows of different kinds: long, compoun
d, elaborate, short, and a couple of tiny ones. When they approached Lasgol he did not feel afraid, because they did not seem to want to harm him. They surrounded him in a circle and showed him their Specialist Medallions, which he recognized: Mage Hunter, Natural Marksman, Infallible Marksman, Forest Sniper, Elemental Archer and Archer of the Wind. All these belonged to the Specialty of Archery and represented its elite specialties.
He had no idea what their intentions were. Was this some sort of test? They stared at him with deep, intense eyes, but said nothing. Before he could ask them what they wanted, the six of them asked in unison:
“Are you worthy of the Archers?”
Lasgol found the question strange. Everything was strange, and he did not know what to say. They placed the palms of their right hands on his body: on his chest, on his back and on his head. He felt even stranger. The six Specialists closed their eyes and concentrated. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain throughout his body, as if he had reacted to the Rangers’ touch, as if he were refusing them. The pain was beginning to grow more intense. Was it his body rejecting them, or was it his mind? He tried to move, to draw back from them, but he could not. His body would not obey him; it was as though he was frozen where he was, except that he could feel a great pain rising through his body as far as his head.
He tried to shout at them to stop, but no sound came out of his mouth. The pain intensified, and now it was inside his head, as if he were suffering from a terrible migraine. He tried to reject it, shutting his eyes tightly, fighting against the pain. For a moment he thought that he would not be able to reject it, but he did not give up, he kept fighting, trying to expel it from his mind. It was growing sharper all the time. But when he was about to give up, he made one final effort, refusing to succumb, and at last his mind rejected the pain.
The six Elite Specialists drew back their hands.
“He is worthy of the Archers,” they said together, and left.
Lasgol was now able to move. He put his head in his hands. The pain had vanished completely, without leaving any after-effects.
Suddenly five more specialists appeared from the forest. With them were animals: a polar bear, a white wolf, a hawk and a snow panther. He knew at once that they belonged to the Specialty of Wildlife. They came up to him and surrounded him as the Archers had done, then showed him their Medallions: Beast Whisperer, Tireless Tracker, Tireless Explorer, Man Hunter and Beast Master.
“Are you worthy of Wildlife?”
He wanted to be worthy of the specialization of Wildlife; it was the one he had chosen, the one he most enjoyed. Yes, he wanted to be worthy. They laid the palms of their right hands on his body, on his chest, his back and his head, and the pain began. He shut his eyes and fought with all his strength against it. He was trying not to let it reach his mind, where it turned sharper and more painful. He failed. But he fought, seeking to reject the pain with his whole being. This was his true specialty, he must reject the pain, he must be worthy. He would be! Surprisingly, the pain stopped much more quickly this time.
The Specialists drew back their hands. “He is worthy of Wildlife,” they said in unison, and then left.
He was beginning to understand what was happening. They were testing him, but it was not really him they were testing, it was his mind. They were doing it to see whether he could stand up to it and be worthy of joining the elite specialties. That was why they were all laying their hands on him, and that was why there was that terrible pain. This worried him. It was very intense, and it was affecting his mind. Suppose something happened to him? Suppose they damaged his mind? Something of the kind must have happened before, when the Elders had been experimenting. He began to feel seriously worried. He had survived two specialties, but he was beginning to feel that his head was ‘touched’, that he would not be able to bear much more punishment.
Now eight Elite Specialists appeared out of the forest, walking toward him through the snow. He knew at once who they were. They were carrying potions, ointments, traps, elemental arrows, maps, bags of ingredients: they were from Nature. It was the specialty he liked next best. But there were eight of them, which was too many. He wanted to run away, because his mind would not stand up to another test. But his body did not move. It was as though he were petrified in ice.
They surrounded him and showed him their Medallions: Healer Guard, Furtive Poisoner, Alchemist of the Forest, Elemental Fletcher, Forest Survivor, Expert Herbalist, Forest Trapper and Green Cartographer.
“Are you worthy of Nature?”
Lasgol prepared himself for the pain, shut his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw. He felt the hands on his body, and an instant later the agony began. He tried to reject it with all his might, but he felt eight points of intense pain spreading through his body, seeking to gain access to his mind and torture it. It was Nature, his second favorite, the one he had the second most affinity with, so the suffering would be less than it would be with Archery, and he was right. All the same, he had not reckoned on the fact that he was getting weaker and more tired all the time. His mind was worn out, and if it failed completely the pain would destroy him. And what would happen then he had no way of telling. Madness and dementia came to his mind. He focused on expelling the pain, because what he had to do was to save his mind. He could not let the experiment end with him suffering irreversible madness. He had to save himself in whatever way he could. He fought with all his being, fought back the pain, throwing it out of his mind and body. And he succeeded.
“You are worthy of Nature,” the Specialists said, and left.
Lasgol gasped. Steam formed in front of his face. He was mentally exhausted. His head was on the point of bursting, he was half-stunned and his ears were ringing. He could barely think. Unfortunately he knew that the test was not yet over. There was still the last specialty to come.
Nor was he mistaken. From the forest came five further Specialists. A couple were dressed in black, the others in camouflage green-brown. They carried daggers with poisoned blades; they were the Specialists of Expertise.
They surrounded him and showed him their Medallions: Stealthy Spy, Natural Assassin, Forest Assassin, Assassin of Nature, Chameleon Stalker.
“Are you worthy of Expertise?”
Lasgol knew that he was not, but he could not refuse the test. He did not know how to say no to them. They touched him, and the pain began. He tried to endure it, to reject it, but his mind was too battered to be able to endure more. Pain exploded in his mind, and he knew that this time he would not be able to reject it. It was the specialty he felt least affinity with, and the terrible pain he was now feeling confirmed it. He fought, he refused to give up, but he could not get the pain out of his mind. He was going to go mad. He would not recognize Astrid, Viggo, Ingrid, Camu... he would lose them all. And as he thought of those he loved, his mind found the last trace of energy to fight back with. He fought, holding on to those he loved, and succeeded. He rejected the pain.
“He is worthy of Expertise,” the Specialists said, drawing back their hands, and vanished.
He was left standing, exhausted, unable to think, his mind broken from the pain. It was lucky that he could not move, or else he would have collapsed. The frozen landscape began to disappear before his eyes, which he could barely keep open.
“That was unbelievable,” Sigrid said to him.
“It was extremely dangerous,” Engla pointed out.
“But a total success,” said Sigrid.
“He’s alive, by a miracle,” said Ivar.
Annika was examining him and checking his heartbeat and pulse.
“How is he?” Sigrid asked.
“He’ll recover,” said Annika.
“He’s strong,” Gisli added.
“Drink this potion,” Annika said to Lasgol. “It’ll help you recover.”
Lasgol was so exhausted, and his mind was so unresponsive, that he could not even decide whether it would be wise to take another potion, but he did so. A moment later he was feeling much better,
as if suddenly an enormous quantity of energy had been injected into his mind and body.
“This is a very powerful cordial,” Annika pointed out.
Gisli smiled. “It would revive an ox.”
Lasgol nodded. “I feel much better.”
“A very few chosen ones in the past have managed to be worthy of all the Elite specialties in a School,” Gisli explained to him. “Nobody has ever been worthy of more than two complete specialties.”
“What you have achieved is sensational,” Sigrid said.
“He was on the brink of losing his mind,” Ivar pointed out.
“Or dying,” Engla added.
“It’s dangerous, I don’t deny that,” Sigrid admitted, “but the results are astonishing. We have an anomaly here before us which is genuinely special and wonderful. It confirms what I thought: it’s possible. At last we have proof. We can now create specialists who are far more complete. We’ll be able to have Superior Specialists. I’m beside myself with joy.” The smile she gave them was a very strange one.
“Not all of them are like him,” Engla pointed out. “It won’t be easy to create Superior Specialists just like that.”
“Very true. But there’ll be more with skills like his. And now we know it’s possible. We’ve proven it. We know what Lasgol is capable of. If he wants, he can become a specialist in all the elite specializations. In all of them.”
Gisli turned to Lasgol. “Congratulations,” he said.
“I don’t want to be a specialist in all of them,” Lasgol said. He had no desire even to dream of it. It was enough to think about everything he would have to learn and practice. He would need another five years at the Shelter.
“That’s understandable,” Sigrid said.
“After how hard it’s been for him, even more so,” Ivar added.
“I’m happy to be a specialist in one elite specialty. That’s all I want.”
“You have too much potential to waste it on just one,” Sigrid pointed out.
“This may not be the right moment for this discussion,” Annika said. “He’s weak.”
