Time ~ The Acolyte
By Len Morgan
Two tree sparrows perched on one of
his outstretched arms, arguing gregariously with regular comments from other
pairs perched nearby. Morlen stood on a four-foot stump, arms
akimbo, eyes closed, swaying gracefully in a light spring breeze, to all
intents and purposes he was a tree. Neither the sparrows nor
their neighbours had any doubts. The hen bird was busy
scolding her mate completely unconcerned by her perch.
“Boy, you’ve been at it for two
hours. I think we can safely assume your concentration and
visualisation are acceptable, but can you tell me what they are saying?”
“She’s saying, (the birds took to the
wing in alarm, talking trees did not fall within their experience), I’m not
tall enough and have insufficient foliage. She wants him to
build their nest higher.” He dropped from the stump, landing
lightly on the balls of his feet. Don’t be alarmed, little
sister. It is I Morlen, we have spoken before, and I mean you
no harm.
The very
idea! Talking with humans, it’s disgusting, the cock
scolded her. Come away, its mind is filled with hunger.
Reynon chuckled, “I did warn you they
look down their beaks at anything that cannot fly.”
“Flight!” said Morlen following their
path, with his eyes, to the higher safer nesting boughs.
Reynon scratched his frizzy grey
beard noisily, “No, we’ve wasted enough time on that one, when you’re ready you
will fly, till then you’ll just have to be patient.” He spread
a cloth over the tree stump and loaded it with sausage bread cheese fruits pies
and a bottle of new wine. Seeing the disappointment on Morlen’s face
he shook his head and smiled, relenting. “Okay! Eat
and drink then you can have two hours free time for your flying. You
have the ability; all you need is a little patience and
application. The second level will come in its own time!”
.-…-.
“A three hundred mile journey, do we
have to fly all the way?” Morlen asked.
“Of course we don’t, just a
few miles, there's a shortcut we can take to Enchanters
Island,” Reynon answered in mind speak, “we could walk, or we could
always use the Terminus – you do have the key after all.”
“We’ve been through that before, it’s
just a ring! I know, I had it when I arrived two years ago,
long before I knew anything of Magic…”
“But, don’t you
see? I was attracted to the magic in the
key. I was searching for signs of magic or latent
ability. When I found you the key was on your finger,
pulsating, if it hadn’t been, the Gyrax would have been the fatter by one
medium-sized boy.”
“But, you didn’t save me!” said
Morlen indignantly.
“Correct! It was the ring
that saved you.”
Morlen thought for a moment and
absently looped a loop, “Okay, lead the way…”
Two Gyre Falcon’s angled down
towards a rocky outcrop a mile beyond Gyraxs’ lair. They
landed, morphing to human form as Reynon and
Morlen. Immediately the ring started to glow.
“That signifies the Terminus is
nearby. We climb down a chimney, about a hundred feet, here it
is,” Reynon sounded triumphant.
Peering down into the shaft Morlen
could see a faint pink glow. There were foot and handholds
cut into the rock walls. So, with Reynon leading the way they
climbed down, aided by the strange diffused light. Its
intensity increased as they went deeper but disappeared the instant he stepped
off into the lower chamber. They negotiated a shallow
incline. Morlen could see the ring was glowing more intently
now.
“This is the door,” said Reynon,
pointing to a wall with strange markings on it. “Touch it with the
key.” Morlen reached out nervously with his left hand and a
section of the wall disappeared, revealing a small dimly lit
cell. “In you go,” as they entered the wall
returned.
“We’re trapped!” Morlen’s
voice squeaked. A panel of buttons appeared on the wall.
“Press number five
boy.” Morlen obeyed and it lit up, “Now press it again.”
“But nothing happened.”
“Do as I say, boy.”
He pressed it again and the door
opened. His olfactory senses were assaulted by the heady
perfume of aromatic herbs and medicinal plants. A kaleidoscope
of colours aroma’s and sounds bewildered, and confused him.
Reynon led Morlen from the
Terminus in a drunken stupor. “Sensory overload,” he
explained. “It’s a little excessive, but in a few years you should
get used to living here in Kryft.”
“You said we were coming to Enchanters Island
“You object? You
don’t want to stay,” Reynon sounded surprised.
“I’d prefer not if you don’t mind.”
“Reynon! I see you
just made the deadline, by the skin of your eyelids,
again. Two hours more and I would have had my old job back.”
“Anthrax! Brother of
mine, I wish I could say I’m sorry for your demise…”
“Don’t speak too soon brother, you’re
not away yet, there is still the small matter of the testing?”
“I have no fears on that count
brother, he’s a real find, You’ll not be rejecting
Morlen. Better luck in five years
time.” He turned to Morlen, “this is my elder brother and
twin, Anthrax. He will continue your training.”
“You mean you want me to stay here
while you return to the real world. I think not, I’m leaving
with you!”
“Now don’t be difficult boy, this is
all illusion designed to keep unwanted guests away. Reduce the
sensitivity of your senses and things will return to normal—how’s that?”
Morlen nodded, “better.”
Time
~ The Testing
He opened his eyes, in complete
darkness. He lay on a hard unyielding surface that seemed to
sway drunkenly with each breath he took. He steadied himself
gingerly and reached out above his head and to the sides. He
realized then that he was perched on a swinging four by two-foot platform
suspended on chains attached to its four corners. After two
minutes he still could not penetrate the blackness. He
attempted to unleash a light spell, without success, then he tried a revealing
spell and finally in desperation a transference spell, nothing
worked. He opened his mind tentatively, seeking the minds of
others. There were no extraneous thoughts, not even from lower-order creatures. He was forced to accept that this place did
not allow magic. He shivered with fear, for two years he had
concentrated solely on learning magic, now he found that magic was denied
him. He realized that he was on his own, reliant only on his
mind and his body. He smiled grimly; he should have known that
Raynon would not play by the rules.
He sat on the platform using it as a
swing, to determine the limitations of his prison. He swung in
all directions without making contact with the walls. He
climbed up the two chains, as far as he could go, and discovered that the
ceiling was a smooth but unyielding rock. One chain was fastened to
a large ring firmly embedded in the rock. The other was
attached to a rams-horn hook. He
couldn’t get out through the roof or reach the walls. His only
choice was to go down. But, even hanging from the platform and
stretching his legs out he could not feel the ground. It could
be a few feet or a mile below; there was no way of knowing. He
thought of dropping something and timing the duration of its fall but all he
wore was a linen shirt and pantaloons. He thought a while then
stood at one end of the plank, raising it until he could grasp both chains then
he climbed as far as he could using both, then transferred all his weight to
the one attached to the open hook whilst still holding on to the other loose
chain. He succeeded in looping it over the open hook and
transferring his weight to it. This allowed him to
unhook the other chain and allow it to fall into the dark
abyss. He listened. He’d succeeded in
doubling the length of the chain but it still did not reach the
ground. He slid down to the platform and beyond until he was
hanging from the lower end of the double-length chain. His
arms were aching, burning from the effort involved. Still, he
felt and saw nothing, and the ground could still be a mile
below. He climbed back up so that he could loop the chain
between his legs and looping it over his shoulders to give respite to his arm
and leg muscles.
.-…-.
He remembered their arrival and
Reynon warning him that testing started as soon as he set foot on the
isle. He’d been taken to quarters in the student wing and told
to wait. He became drowsy and fell asleep. He
awoke with many hands restraining him. His mouth was forced
open, and a quantity of liquid poured down his throat.
A voice said, “That should dampen his
magic,” then he lost consciousness.
.-…-.
He became angry at the realisation
that his magic had been stolen. He used the anger to fire his
adrenalin reserves. Pulling down the front of his pants he
urinated a short burst, counting 1-apple, 2-apple, 3-apple, 4… He
heard a faint distant splash. He was too high to survive a
fall. He repeated the experiment until his bladder was empty
but the result was the same. He lowered himself down the chain
and wrapped it around one wrist. Grasping above it with the other
hand he started to swing from side to side until his feet touched a
wall. On the backward swing, he found his feet again touched a
wall. After half a dozen swings in various directions, he
concluded that the wall must be circular. Each time he made
contact he walked a few steps anti-clockwise until he judged he’d made a
complete revolution. He took another rest and climbed a few
feet higher then repeated another circuit. He took another
rest then tied a loop in the chain, into which he put his
foot. He continued to swing, finding it progressively harder
to touch the walls. It seemed he’d been at it for hours, it
was difficult to judge time in complete darkness, there were no reference
points. He was wracking his brain for an alternative course of
action when a contact produced a different sound; a hollow
sound. He swung back higher and faster and made contact with
the wall, harder than intended. The wind was forced from his
lungs and he was violently sick, still dangling from the
chain. He heaved a second time and tasted the sour stomach
juices, which caused him to heave again. Subconsciously, he
cast a soothing spell and the sickness subsided.
“It worked.” He yelled and
tried a light spell. In the early light given off, he could see
a door and a platform. He swung as close as he could and
jumped, grasping the door ring he clung on and swung himself onto the platform.
.-…-.
Reynon roared his
delight. “Well brother, when have you ever heard of an
apprentice escaping from the cistern? Its only purpose is to
humble them before the real training begins…”
“He’s not out yet, and his time is
running out.”
“He’s negated your damping potion,
He’s reclaimed his magic, no other has ever done that.” He smirked, “You’ve
lost! I think you owe me a keg of fortified Vaspellian wine.”
“Wait—“ said Anthrax, as the door
handle to the Cistern turned.
“No!” Reynon gasped. The
door fell inwards, laying flat like a bridge into the
abyss. Reynon fell silent.
“You caught him?” Anthrax asked of
the trainee Magicians who were there to keep Morlen from harm, and rescue him
at the end of two and a half hours or, if he fell.
“The web is still in place, if he’d
fallen we’d have caught him,” the oldest trainee magician answered.
Reynon walked slowly to the gaping
door. He stood there for several moments, a hand appeared at
the edge of the door, then another, and the old man smiled
spontaneously. Shortly after Morlen’s head and shoulders came into
view. He stepped forward to congratulate his Acolyte but was
confronted by a cold uncompromising stare, he backed
off. Seconds later the other apprentices hoisted Morlen onto
their shoulders and carried him through the town in triumph.
“I don’t think you’re his favourite
person at this moment in time,” Anthrax whispered.
Reynon shrugged, but the hurt was
clearly visible in his face.
An ornately dressed messenger boy
approached and announced, “Reynon, your presence is required in the council
chamber,” so it was that he learned, the Oracle wanted him to travel to Central
as chief Druid to Gregorius XIV. His name would be Aetemus,
and he was to leave immediately.
.-…-.
On the following day, Morlen lined up
with twenty-three other apprentices to be chosen by one of five clutch mentors
Masters: Brox and Agaric, Mistresses: Decamon, Tamrose and
Poskiss. Tradition was for five clutches of four students but
this year there were four additional students. It had been
assumed that each clutch would take one additional student, but when there were
four unclaimed students remaining the clutch mentors refused to choose further.
“Either you each select an additional
clutch member or I will appoint an additional clutch mentor,” the chief
counsellor warned. There was a long pause punctuated by
nervous coughing. “Very well then, I appoint…”
“No need! I would be
honoured to mentor a clutch chosen for me by my eminent colleagues,” said Anthrax. “I
am gratified you chose so unselfishly, I find that I have been ceded the cream
of the crop!” He smiled warmly at the four young rejects,
“Miss Cerelle, Mr Zatticus, Mr Hurk and of course Mr Morlen,” he shook their
hands warmly and bowed to each in turn.
He received sympathetic smiles from
three of the Mentors but hostile glares from Agaric and Poskiss.
“Why Master Agaric, Mistress Poskiss,
have I done something to offend?”
Agaric said, “Not in words but, you
have caused offence. I cannot believe this august body could
be taken in by your deception…”
“Deception? How so, cousin.”
“Do not imply kinship where none
exists, I will state it plain so there is no doubt in anybody's
mind. Anthrax you aided your brother's apprentice in the first test. It
has remained unchanged since the dawn of time.”
“We are all aware of that,” said
Anthrax.
“The code forbids forewarning…”
“Of course, they are expected to fail
the first test it teaches them humility, keeps their feet planted squarely on
the ground and their minds firmly in touch with reality. If
anything I would attempt to ensure his failure. In fact his
success cost me a fine keg of wine!” There was muted laughter
at this.
“You have made a mockery of
everything we stand for,” said Poskiss.
“I did not train him, Reynon did
so. Why would anybody waste time training an apprentice
for failure? We train them to succeed but the odds
of this particular game are heavily stacked against them. It
greatly reduces their chance of success but doesn’t eliminate it totally. ”
“I know he must have been
forewarned,” Agaric glared at Anthrax.
“Then select one of your own clutch
to duplicate his feat, with the benefit of hindsight, else apologise to me and
the boy!”
Agaric clenched his fists, shook his
head, and features distorted with rage.
“It will not end here. There is a
case to be answered,” said Poskiss, she wheeled theatrically and followed
Agaric out of the council chamber.
To be
continued (one day)/...
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