💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › SFFS › sffs071 captured on 2022-06-12 at 14:13:41.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
1 +-+ +-+ +-+
+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME SEVEN NUMBER ONE
| | ==========================================
+___________+ FFFFF SSS FFFFF N N EEEEE TTTTT
| ++ | F S F NN N E T
| ++ | FFF SSS FFF N N N EEE T
| | F S F N NN E T
|_________| F SSS F N N EEEEE T
/___________\ ==========================================
| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE@MAINE>
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
CONTENTS
X-Editorial 'Orny' Liscomb
*If Looks Could Kill Glenn Sixbury
*Gasmelyn Llaw: Part 2 of 2 John White
Date: 010987 Dist: 236
An "*" indicates story is part of the Dargon Project
All original materials copyrighted by the author(s)
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
X-Editorial
Well, greetings, all, and welcome to the new year! This is a
notable time of year, for three reasons. Firstly, we are beginning a
new volume, number seven. Secondly, we are marking the first
anniversary of the Dargon Project, which has been remarkably
successful. And, finally, it was two years ago that FSFnet's first
issue was sent out. So please excuse any sentimentality which follows.
As we enter our third year of publication, I'd like to send out
some very special thanks to everyone involved in the production of
the magazine. Without their aid, FSFnet would not have seen the end
of the first semester. I'd also like to thank those who distribute
the magazine onto other networks, and who knows where else (*I*
certainly don't)! And, of course, I'd like to thank the readership
for their interest and support. That's what it's all about. Special
thanks go to Joseph Curwen, Jim Owens, Chuq von Rospach, Mike
Murphy, Alan Clegg, Chris Condon, and Bob Boag.
Well, enough of the sentimentality. Thank you, one and all, for
making the zine a success. Best wishes, one and all.
-'Orny' Liscomb <CSDAVE @ MAINE>
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
If Looks Could Kill
It was already late afternoon and Tara n'ha Sansela estimated
that she still had close to three or four leagues to travel before
reaching Tench. She didn't want to stop, but her horse, Boxter was
an older animal, and it was obvious that the rapid pace she had been
forcing him to go was beginning taking its toll. At the top of a
hill, she dismounted, leading Boxter over to a tree, and took the
opportunity to rest herself in the cool shade. As she sat down, Zed,
her pet Shivaree, trotted over and curled up beside her, immediately
falling asleep. The big ferret-like creature wasn't accustomed to
running all day. Several times Tara had lifted him up to the saddle
with her so he could catch his breath as they had traveled.
It had been two days since her parents were killed by bandits,
and Tara still hadn't managed to grasp the reality of her situation.
It all seemed like a dream. Each morning, she woke up with the idea
that it would all be over, and she would be back in the small farm
cottage where she had lived her whole life. But it was not to be.
The cottage was now little more than ashes and her parents were both
dead. She'd buried them herself in their old cellar and set out for
Tench, where she hoped to find a guide or at least a map which would
get her to Dargon and to her uncle's.
As Tara sat under the tree, she surveyed the countryside. It was
still green, but there was a chill in the morning air. The snows
would come soon. As Tara scanned the horizon, which held clouds in
the threat of an evening storm, she noticed some activity in the
valley. In the middle of a clearing stood a fortress, surrounded by
several cultivated fields and three oval tracks. Looking closer,
Tara could see people scattered about, and as they moved, she caught
the glint of metal reflected in the evening sun. Tara had never seen
so many people in armor. Surely this was an army camp of some kind.
It was hard to see, but the people down on the clearings seemed to
be training, although some could also be seen tending fields. It was
all very interesting,and Tara would have liked to stay and watch a
little longer, but she knew she had taken up as much time resting as
she could afford. She would have a hard time making Tench by sunset.
Tara had been afraid that she had lost her way in the dark until
she finally spotted a group of lights, revealing Tench's location.
The town was nestled in between large, tree-covered hills, and had a
small river running through it. Riding down towards the lights, Tara
was glad this leg of the trip was finally over. It would feel good
to have a bed to sleep in again. It would also feel good to have a
chance to be around other people, even if they were strangers. The
last two days had been lonely ones.
Tench was little more than a cross-roads town. As Tara rode down
the main road which provided Tench with most of its travelers, the
few buildings she saw were either inns or taverns, with stables
tucked away behind them. She did notice a small dwelling or two, but
from the looks of things, Tench had very few permanent residents.
Tara had expected the streets of the town to be almost deserted.
In the few tiny villages located near Tara's old home, people went
to bed shortly after sundown, raucous laughter came from one of the
nearby taverns, and several people were wandering up and down the
road. Few of them took notice of Tara, although some took time to
glance suspiciously at this strange girl rider with a Shivaree
trotting behind her.
Tara was looking the town over, and she didn't see the man step
in front of her. The horse bumped him in the back, and he turned
around and snarled, "Watch where yer goin', or I'll--" Then the
man's face changed from arrogance to fear, and his voice softened as
he apologized, "I'm sorry M'Lady. If I'd o' known it was you, I'd o'
never...." And then he turned and walked hurriedly away.
Tara had started to apologize to the man, but he had left too
quickly. His change of attitude was also very puzzling. He didn't
seem like the apologizing type. Too tired to worry it, Tara turned
her attention back to finding a place to stay for the night.
The next inn Tara found was in an old well-worn building, but it
was well lit. Tara read the sign above the door: The Lame Duck Inn.
It didn't look like much of an inn, but at least the nearest tavern
was almost out of earshot, so she would get some sleep tonight.
Cheered by that fact, Tara tied Boxter to a post and went inside.
The room was dimly lit and had a stale, musty odor. A small,
balding, round-faced man was bent over a sheet of parchment, making
a scratch here and there as he counted on his fingers. Tara shut the
door and walked to the counter. The small man didn't seem to notice.
"Hello," Tara said shyly.
"Evenin'."
"Could I get a room?" The man did not answer, but seemed to
count a little more furiously on his fingers. "Hello?"
"Yes, yes, yes," the man muttered, recounting his fingers. "You,
uh, wanted a room?"
"Yes, if you have one."
"We do have one," the little man said, and then he looked up,
and his face immediately brightened. "Why didn't you say it was you?
Tryin' to fool me again, were ya? I thought you were just another
traveler come to interrupt my bookwork."
Tara put a puzzled look on her face. Then she answered, "You
must have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Tara n'ha Sansela."
"Oh, I see," the inkeeper laughed. "It's Sarah this time, is it?"
"No, Tara. Tara n'ha Sansela."
"Ah, good. I will try to remember." Then the little man laughed
again. "Your usual room, uh, Tara?"
"My usual room?"
"Yes, the corner room at the top of the stairs."
"Whatever you have."
"Fine, fine," the little man beamed. "Boy! Boy!" The little man
grumbled to himself, and stomped around impatiently for a moment.
Then he disappeared into the back room, and when he came back, he
was carrying a young boy by the back of the neck, which he tossed in
front of the counter. "Take her horse to the stable, boy, and get to
it!" The boy was little more than skin and bones, and bruises could
be seen on his cheeks and arms. Tara started to say something, but
then checked herself. This was no time to get involved. The little
boy said nothing, but stared sleepily at the man. Then he rubbed the
sleep from his eyes on his way out the door.
The innkeeper had noticed Zed. "What's this?" he asked, putting
his hand out towards Zed. The shivaree growled, baring his teeth,
and the man quickly pulled his hand back, putting it in his pocket.
"Never mind," he blurted out before Tara could answer. "Normally we
don't allow animals to stay in the room," he continued, "but since
he's yours, I'll make an exception."
Tara just nodded an acknowledgement, and then she headed up the
stairs. As she reached the top step, the innkeeper called to her,
"You never did fool me. Not this time. The animal is a new twist,
though." Tara thought about answering, and then decided to let
things lie as they were and disappeared into her room.
Once inside, she pulled off her boots, and layed back onto the
bed to rest a moment. Zed jumped up beside her, curled up into a
ball, and was immediately asleep. Tara knew she needed sleep, but
too many things were bouncing around inside her head. The inn keeper
seemed to recognize her and even gave her special treatment, even
though she'd never seen the man before in her life. Also, Zed was
always friendly, but he almost bit the man's hand. And what about
the boy? And the stranger she'd bumped in the street? Tara's turned
over the thoughts in her mind as she lay on the bed.
Zed rolled over sleepily and settled his head on Tara's belly.
Tara sat up in bed. Midmorning daylight was streaming through
the window. She was disoriented for a moment before she remembered
where she was, but she didn't remember going to bed. Then she
realized she was still fully dressed. Quickly she put on her boots
and made sure she still had the small bag of gold attached to her
belt. As soundly as she'd slept, she was glad no thief had taken it
in the night. Then Tara walked to the door. Zed trotted up from the
corner, expecting to go along. After thinking a moment, Tara ordered
him to stay, pushing him back from the door with her foot as she left.
Several minutes later, Tara was sitting at a table downstairs,
eating the best breakfast she'd had since leaving home. The
innkeeper had given her breakfast for free, but when Tara asked him
to have someone take care of Zed for the day, he agreed to do so,
but it cost her several extra copper pieces. When Tara finished her
meal, she went to find the things she would need to get her to Dargon.
Tara soon discovered that it was easy to find supplies, but that
they weren't so easy to buy. Everything was over-priced, and after
purchasing a warm cloak, dried food, a couple of water skins,
another blanket, and some bones and meat scraps for Zed, she only
had half her gold left. She also found guides who were eager to take
her to Dargon, but not for the amount of gold she had to offer. They
did tell her that the road to Dargon was fairly well-traveled and
she could find her own way there, if she lived that long. They
portrayed many dangers of the road for a girl traveling alone, but
Tara listened to them with her father's teachings firmly in mind. As
he used to say, "Those preaching loudest about the dangers of the
night are the ones selling lanterns."
It was afternoon before Tara had finished all her tasks and had
started back to the inn. Her arms were laden with her supplies, but
she felt good. Things were going as planned, except for the message
she had wanted to send to her uncle to let him know she was coming.
Such a message had turned out to be too expensive and too slow.
There was the chance she might be in Dargon before the message.
Then, suddenly, someone stepped in front of Tara, gave her a bear
hug and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. Tara was caught
completely off-guard and dropped everything, but as soon as she
recovered, she slapped both hands onto the man's head and he
immediately let go with a yelp. "Yeoww! What'd you do that for?"
Tara didn't reply, but drew her sword instead, holding him at
sword's distance. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You said you'd see me
as soon as you came back, and then I find you out roaming the
streets, so I come to welcome you back, and you attack me?"
"You are wrong," Tara told him. "You attacked me."
"No, Honey, I didn't. . . ."
Tara cut him short with a poke of her sword in his belly. She
didn't hurt him, but it was enough to change his plans. He quickly
mumbled an apology, and walked away through the crowd which always
formed when ever a fight broke out. When it was over, the people
also dispersed, leaving Tara alone to gather up her things. She was
shaking and had trouble hanging onto things, but she managed to get
back to the inn without further incidents.
Once in her room, Tara calmed down, and then realized that she
was hungry. She decided to get some supper and try to figure out
whether the man that attacked her made an honest mistake or whether
he had just tried to protect himself after seeing her reaction. When
Tara went downstairs, she was told that the inn didn't serve meals
in the evening, but there was a good tavern just down the street and
around the corner, so Tara set off in that direction.
The tavern served her a good meal. It was a little expensive,
but everything in Tench was more expensive than what Tara was used
to. She ordered some of the strong, bitter ale that was common in
this country, and found that she couldn't stand to drink it, so she
had it taken away and replaced with a mug of a sweet cider. Then,
after finishing her meal, she decided to sit and relax a little
before heading back to the inn. It was going to be a long time
before she had the chance to socialize with people again.
The tavern had been empty when Tara had arrived, but now it was
crowded, and Tara enjoyed looking at so many different kinds of
people. Then she noticed that one of them was looking at her. He was
a tall man with a powerful body and hair blacker than ashes. He was
also a handsome, noble-looking man, but his eyes were strange.
Hard-grey eyes, their stare chilled to the bone. As she watched, the
man said something to the serving wench, gave her a few coins and
stood up. He's coming over here, Tara realized suddenly. She quickly
pulled out enough gold to cover her meal, and wrapped her cloak
around her as she headed for the door. The last thing she needed was
another event similar to what had happened to her earlier that day.
She didn't bother looking back as she rushed out, shutting the door
behind her.
She only made it fifty yards before several rough-looking men
sprang from around a corner and surrounded her, drawing their
swords. A short, stocky man with a mouth that wore a constant sneer,
blocked Tara's path.
"You made a big mistake comin' back here, or are you still so
scratchy that you think you can't be beat?" Tara tried to speak, but
failed to find her tongue. "This time you will not live," the man
snarled and started towards her, motioning for the other men to do
the same.
"You're making a mistake," Tara blurted out, drawing her sword."
"Not this time," the man told her confidently. "Last we met, you
managed to walk away with all my money. You made a fool out of me.
Now you will die." With that, the man swung his sword at Tara's
head. She managed to block the blow, but it sent her sword sailing.
Quickly, she ducked under the man's second blow and tried to escape,
but all she managed to do was trap herself between her attackers and
a wall of a building. Slowly the group closed in. There were five
brutes in all, and the burly man who had talked before let an evil
sneer of a smile crawl across his face. "I will enjoy this," he
beamed, raising his sword for the death blow. Then, just as he
started the sword forward, a powerful hand wrapped around the wrist,
squeezing so tight, the man let out a painful cry and dropped the
sword. Then he was knocked to the ground. It was the man from the
inn. He seemed almost to glow. This man was comfortable in battle.
The other four brutes were stunned for a moment, but they
quickly recovered. Two on each side of the man attacked at the same
time, but he glided smoothly out of the way, causing them to clash
swords. Then, in the blink of an eye, he had disarmed one and sent
the other sprawling to the ground. As the other two attacked, he
again avoided their blows, sending one to the ground with a push and
swatting the other in the side of the head with the flat of his
sword. He took a step back, ready for another assault, but all save
one of the attackers grabbed their weapons and scrambled away down
the alley. The remaining one was on the ground, unconscious,
bleeding a little where he had been struck.
Tara stood in awe a moment before she recovered enough to thank
the man. Then she picked up her sword, resheathed it, and admitted,
"I'd be dead now if it wasn't for you."
"Yes, you would."
Tara was surprised by his frankness. "Thanks anyway." Then she
added, pointing to the man on the ground, "He isn't dead, is he?"
"No. He will have a headache when he awakes. That is all."
"Why didn't you kill them?"
"I only kill when I must. These men couldn't harm me."
"But there were five of them."
"Yes, I believe there was." Then he managed a smile. "My name is
Sir Morion," he said, taking her hand.
"I am Tara n'ha Sansela. Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"That is a long story," he replied, his eyes growing distant.
"Instead I should learn of who I saved. Come, we can talk while I
escort you home."
"You can't take me home," Tara said sadly, "but I'm staying at
the Lame Duck Inn." They started down the street.
"You are very foolish to wander about these streets, unescorted,
after dark, when you cannot protect yourself," Morion scolded her.
"The sword you wear implies you can fight. That's a bluff that will
only keep an honest and sober man from bothering you.
"But I wasn't bluffing." Tara explained. "I didn't know better."
Morion seemed unimpressed by her naivete. "Where are you from?"
"From a farm near Myridon." Tara saw Morion's blank expression,
so she continued, "It's a small village about sixty leagues east of
here. I came here because--" Tara paused, and then changed her mind.
"I'm headed to Dargon to live with my uncle. I don't know why those
men attacked me. One of them said something about getting even for
the last time we'd met, but I've never seen him before."
"Perhaps they mistook you for Lana."
"Lana?"
"I almost did myself, but after watching you a little while it
was obvious that you weren't Lana."
"Who is Lana?"
"You are too quiet and shy. Too well-behaved. You didn't fool me
for long at all, but then, I know Lana better than most."
"Who. Is. Lana?" Tara asked, stamping her foot.
"She's a bandit and assassin who you greatly resemble in
appearance. She kills and steals in her travels and then she returns
to Tench to hide, usually in disguise and under an alias name, until
whoever she has wronged has stopped searching for her. I'm surprised
more people haven't mistook you for her."
"Ah, I understand," Tara said, her face brightening. "That's
what's been happening. The innkeeper, the man who kissed me--now
things make sense!"
"Yes, well, I would advise that you exercise caution while you
are in Tench. Many people know Lana here. Some will be friendly.
Others will not."
Tara thought about that for a minute, and then she asked, "How
do you know Lana so well?"
"Everyone in Tench knows of Lana."
Unsatisfied, Tara prodded him, "You said you knew Lana better
than most. If I have to wear her face, I'd like to know something
about her."
Morion put a nasty look on his face and his eyes grew distant
again. He shook his head and remained silent. Then he sighed. "I
will tell you the story since you have a reason to know." Morion
gather his thoughts before he continued, "I run a school about three
leagues north west of here."
"That must be the army camp I saw yesterday on my way here,"
Tara blurted out.
"Actually, it's a Citadel containing a school," Morion corrected
her. In any case, Lana came to my school four years ago. She was
very young, but she had potential and money, so she became one of my
students. For almost two years, she was trained in methods of
fighting and fitness. She was always a very good learner, but she
was also always a trouble maker. Every chance she had, she would
travel here to drink. Always a fight would break out. Always more
men were killed. One night Lana--" Morion stopped a moment, his
emotions catching up to him, but it quickly passed. "I do not train
my students to kill for no reason. I expelled Lana from my school."
"She sounds terrible."
"She's not bad to everyone. Just those who cannot help her.
Actually, she can be a very nice, sweet girl when she wishes it so,
but I think she is too full of hate."
"What's wrong with her? I mean, how could a girl do anything
like that?"
"I'm not sure," Morion said thoughtfully, "but when she was
drunk one night, she told me she never knew her father, and her
mother was a serving wench at one of the local inns who used to take
men--" Morion cut off the thought. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"You look older. Let's just say Lana had a very rough
childhood." As Morion finished his story, they arrived at the Lame
Duck Inn. "You will be safe now. Please don't travel after dark
without an escort again." "I won't. Thanks again." Then as Morion
started to leave, Tara pulled some gold out of the pouch around her
waist. "Please take this as a reward for you help. I can't give you
much, but--"
"No thank you," Morion interrupted. "I could not accept money
for an act of kindness."
"Please take it," Tara pleaded.
"No!" Morion growled, spinning on his heel and walking quickly
away into the dark. Tara was confused by his reaction, but she
shrugged her shoulders and put the coins away before heading into
the inn for the night.
Tara was up early the next morning, eager to get started for
Dargon. After she had saddled up Boxter and given Zed something to
eat, she was ready to go. Making sure she hadn't forgotten anything,
she rode out of the stables, and found a cloaked rider blocking her
path. Tara tried to ride around, but the rider grabbed the reins of
her horse, pulling Tara up short.
"Let me go," Tara demanded, raising her head defiantly. The
rider let loose a defiant laugh. Then, as Tara's face grew
perplexed, the rider said in a feminine voice, "So, they spoke
truthfully. I do have a twin." With that, the rider pulled her cloak
away from her head. Tara gasped. She was looking an image of herself
in the other saddle.
"I hope you have had fun, Sister."
"I don't know what you mean," Tara replied, trying to pull the
reins away from the rider.
"You have done quite a job of ruining Lana's good name in Tench.
It's all over town that I couldn't defend myself last night. The
story claims I had to have some man save me." Lana made an ugly
face, and then she spit, as if the words had left a bitter taste in
her mouth. "Now every horny, drunk, or greedy man will think he can
treat me as he would any other woman. My reputation was all I had,
and it was much too valuable to allow some miserable little girl
with a nose like mine to destroy it in one night!"
"But it wasn't my fault," Tara explained. "I told them they were
making a mistake."
Lana seemed not to hear. "Do you know what I'm going to do,
Sister?" she asked in her sweet voice. "I'm going to cut off your
head and hang it from my saddle. Then people will know I am Lana,
the Snake, to be feared." Tara was frightened now and looked
desperately around for help, but although a few people had gathered
to watch, none looked willing to get involved. Franticly, Tara tried
to pull the ruins away. Lana held the reins tight and casually
planted a foot in Tara's chest, knocking her to the ground and
letting loose another laugh.
As Tara lay on the ground, desperately trying to catch her
breath, Lana jumped down beside her. Then she grabbed Tara by the
hair and yanked her to her feet. "You really are a wretched little
creature," Lana told her, pulling on Tara's hair to keep her off
balance. "You don't deserve to wear my face, do you?" Tara just
whined. She felt like her scalp was bleeding where her hair was
being pulled. Lana didn't seemed satisfied, and she pulled harder.
"I asked you a question, Sister."
Tara let out another yelp of pain, and then she managed to reach
up and claw Lana's face. "You little bitch," Lana swore, letting go
of the hair and reaching for her sword. Tara backed away, dizzy from
the pain, and grabbed her own sword from where it had fallen.
"Good. At least you are woman enough to die honorably." Then
Lana stepped forward and casually flipped her wrist, knocking the
sword out of Tara's hand. "And you will die," Lana taunted her
before almost leisurely swinging her sword in a horizontal line
across Tara's belly. Tara was trying to move out of the way when the
sword grazed across her stomach, just below her breasts, and she
tripped and fell over backwards. Although the pain from the cut was
terrible, the amount of blood oozing down her ribs told Tara she
wasn't hit bad enough to kill her. She looked frantically about for
her sword, spying it a few feet away, but she never had a chance to
get to it. Lana had grabbed her by the hair again, pulling her up
enough to expose her throat. Apparently, she was going to make good
on her original threat.
Then, Tara heard a low, gutteral sound as something flashed by
her face. Lana let go, and Tara rolled away, hearing Lana cursing
and fighting. Tara managed to sit up enough to look over and saw
that Lana was on her back, her sword several feet away, and she was
trying in vain to fend off the attack of a large furry animal. It
was Zed.
Lana managed to pull out her dagger and swiped at the Shivaree.
she missed her mark, but did manage to take off an ear, which put
Zed into a complete fury. He mutilated Lana's arm, and she dropped
the dagger, crying out in pain. Then she felt the bones in her
shoulder crush as Zed worked his way, biting, toward the throat.
"Stop him, help me! Call him off!" Lana was pleading for her
life now, and Tara had recovered enough to call to Zed. At first, he
continued to maul Lana, but then, when Tara called again, he sprang
back, growling, blood dripping from his mouth. Tara never dreamed
Zed could do anything like that. She called him again, and he
trotted over to her as if nothing had happened.
Lana was still alive. She was covered with blood, and her left
arm, which was her fighting arm, was almost shredded. With her right
hand, Lana pushed herself up to a sitting position. Tara walked over
to help her, but Lana fended off the assistance with a menacing
gesture. "Get away from me, you slut," she growled, dragging herself
to her feet. Then she hobbled over to her sword and dagger, leaving
a trail of blood. After getting her weapons, Lana turned towards
Tara, "This is not the end, Sister. You will not live to see the
Spring, and the next time we meet, your animal will not be able to
save you." Then Lana pushed her way through the crowd and was gone.
The crowd that had formed to watch the fight had not dispersed,
but were shuffling in closer to Tara. Many of them seemed troubled
by the outcome and several were glaring at her. Tara was shaking
now, and all she wanted to do was to get away. She was still
bleeding, and so was Zed, but she knew she couldn't stay here. She
managed to fight off the pain long enough to lift both her and Zed
to the saddle. Then, with a touch of her heels to Boxter's sides,
she found her way through the crowd to the edge of town.
Tara dismounted and found her old tunic, which she tore into
bandages. She tied the large one around her torso, and she used some
of the smaller strips to bandage Zed's head. It was not a very good
job, but it would serve to stop the bleeding until she made camp
that night. Once again, Tara heaved herself and Zed back on to the
horse, and they headed out of town.
As Tara struggled in the early morning sun to fight off the pain
and dizziness just to stay in the saddle, she made a wish for the
rest of her journey to be much less eventful.
-Glenn R. Sixbury <VMAQ5 @ KSUVM>
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
Glasmelyn Llaw
Part Five: The Problem
Je'en followed Maks, who followed Cefn, up the spiral stairs of
the fifth and tallest turret. Previous turret rooms had been
outfitted as sun rooms, studies, or libraries, but the last one they
came to was very different. Cefn recognized various trappings that
indicated it had once been a laboratory, but it no longer served
that function. The walls were draped in heavy, black cloth, covering
the windows that certainly pierced the outer wall of the turret. But
it wasn't dark here, either. The same pallid green light filled this
room, and the source was obvious: the thing that sat on the
massively built table in the center of the room.
The sight of the thing on the table obviously confirmed all of
Cefn's suspicions, but Je'en and Maks' attentions were drawn to the
two figures in the room. Against one wall, a low table had been
draped with some sort of silvery cloth, and a black candle and
holder had been placed at each corner. On that table, naked and
lying supine, was a lovely young woman who Maks' moan told Je'en had
to be Syusahn. She was breathing very shallowly, and her skin seemed
to be very pale, although that was hard to truly tell in the strange
light. Standing by the table, near Syusahn's head, was the shadow of
a young man, or something like a shadow. It had the form of a medium
height, thin, red-haired man, wearing a strange clothes, but it was
translucent - they could see the covered wall through the figure.
Maks' moan attracted the attention of the shadow-man, and it
turned to face the three intruders. Je'en nearly flinched from the
raving madness in the washed-out grey eyes.
When it spoke, its voice was like a whisper, but it echoed
strangely in the room, so all could hear. "So, more new friends
brought to me by my Hand? The woman one can stay, but you two must
flee, or I will not like you, and you will die. Ha ha! Two women
ones! So long alone, and now two woman ones. When the short one has
joined me out of her body, then it will be your turn, masked one.
"Well, you two, what are you waiting for? Get out! I think I
don't like you. You better get out, before my Hand kills you!"
Maks had not stopped staring at his love on the table, and at
the shadow's words, he made to charge the shadow, and rescue
Syusahn. But, Cefn flung out an arm across both Je'en and Maks'
path, and urged them to take a step back. He said quiet enough for
only their ears, "I know what is going on now. Have either of you
ever heard of the Glasmelyn Llaw?
Je'en gasped at the name, but Maks shook his head. Cefn said,
"Long ago, a very powerful wizard enchanted the tower he had built
to protect him from his jealous peers. But, the spell was too good.
It protected him from everything, including age. I think that that
shadow man over there is the magician Tarlada.
"Over the years, the tower had been doing its job. But, at some
point, something happened, and it began to spread its influence. The
vines outside are the tower's way of taking control of the forest -
they are its link to the land around it. And, it is spreading.
"That object on the table is the focus of the enchantment,
almost the brain of the tower. If we can destroy it, we can both get
Syusahn away from that poor madman, and free the forest from the
encroaching evil. Stand back."
Je'en and Maks took another step back as Cefn pointed his wand
at the thing on the table. It looked like a cross between the tower,
a man, and (perhaps) a tree. It was ugly, and glowed a bright and
sickly pulsing green, and thin little green and blue and yellow
strands of itself grew from it, across the table, and down into the
floor. Je'en had been frantically trying to recall the tale of the
Emerald Hand, because she had a nagging sensation that Cefn was
making a big mistake by attack the core directly. But, she didn't
want to say anything, because he was, after all, the mage of the team.
Finally, just as a bolt of light pulsed along Cefn's wand and
flashed at the thing on the table, Je'en remembered. There was
another tale that concerned the exact same spell as the one in use
here which told of the only way to defeat the spell - and what Cefn
had just done wasn't it.
Cefn's wand began to build up a charge again, even before the
first had hit its target. Je'en shouted "NO!!", causing the wizard
to flinch. The bolt fired while the wand was pointed at Tarlada.
The first bolt hit the thing on the table. The thing pulsed
brighter as it did, and then kept getting brighter and brighter. The
oppressive atmosphere got worse, and Je'en knew that the presence
was finally aware of them. Then, the second bolt passed through the
shadow Tarlada, and the thing began to glow with an eye-searing
brilliance. And a sound began, a subtle vibration at first, but
getting louder by the second. It sounded like the tower was roaring,
and that sound frightened Je'en.
She said, "Run! We cannot stop it now - we don't have the proper
materials. Run - it knows we are here and intend to hurt it!" And
she followed her own advice, turning and heading for the stairs.
Maks, though eager to rescue his love from what was sure to be a
horrid fate, especially for one of the Wind Riders, also had an
instinctive fear of magic. So, he followed Je'en without question.
Je'en reached the stairs, and went down three risers before
noticing two things. The first was a horrible pressure on her head.
No, it was not on her head, but on her mind - she could feel the
essence of the tower trying to take command of her mind. And, when
she turned around to see if the other two were in the same
difficulty, she saw that Cefn hadn't moved. She was about to turn
back to get him, when she saw a ripple of light cover him, and when
it was gone, there was a flakey stone statue of him in his place.
Her eyes went wide, and then she began to run again, Maks still
at her heels. The pressure in her mind was getting worse, and she
began to recite the first and second Measures of the first
Apprentice Bard lesson to try and fight it off. She seemed to be
successful - at least she was still running, and not a stone statue.
They reached the sixth floor, and headed for the next set of
stairs. Je'en was very occupied with trying to keep the tower out of
her mind, but she managed to notice something odd about the statues
around the room. First, several were missing. And, another was
moving. She watched as an inert statue began to shimmer, and then
turn into a man. But, before he could raise his sword, he shimmered
again, and fell to dust. One by one, the other statues in the room
came to life, then fell into dust. As she passed those pedestals she
had noted as being empty, she saw the little mound of dust that was
all that was left of them.
Je'en and Maks hurried down the stairs past the fifth, fourth,
and third floor, catching glimpses of powdering statues as the went,
as the tower tried to use previous victims to snare the two
remaining interlopers. As they reached the head of the stairs to the
second floor, one of the statues that flanked it came to life, but
it didn't disintegrate. As it happened, it was one of the younger
and more fit of the gypsies that the tower had captured earlier, and
now, with a vacant stare, and a menacing sword, he tried to attack.
Je'en was startled to see the statue come back to life properly,
but she was so keyed up trying to escape that her reaction was
instinctive. Her sword came up swiftly, engaged the gypsy's in a
bind, and then riposted right into his heart. She was halfway down
the stairs before the body hit the ground.
There were two more "alive" statues to be taken care of, but
they posed little problem to one with Je'en's reflexes and will to
stay alive. When they reached the first floor, the door was still
open, and they could see the vines that lined the path waving and
thrashing madly, some even reaching blindly into the tower, feeling
for their prey. Je'en took several seconds to get out her cutting
knife, and then had an idea.
She dragged a table under the chandelier, and climbed up on it.
She could just reach the oil reservoirs, and she was happy to find
that they were not fixed to the frame (for easier refilling), and
also that they were full. She took several down, and handed them to
Maks. Then, she hastily lit one of the wicks with a spark-striker,
and went to the door. Dodging out of reach of the thrashing vines,
she took one of the reservoirs and hurled it out onto the left-hand
vine-wall. Then, she threw another onto the right wall, making sure
that the oil scattered. Then, she lit one, and threw it to the
right, and another to the left, causing the oil already on the vines
to catch fire. She was gratified to see that the vines weren't
fireproof as both walls flared up, the flames eating up the vines
like they were kindling.
The tower howled, almost as if in pain, and the vines stopped
darting around, and tried to beat out the flames, which only caught
them on fire. Maks and Je'en waited for the right moment, and then
dashed between the flaming walls of vines, unhindered except for the
danger of the fire, and the heat it generated.
When they reached the forest, Je'en turned to look back at the
tower. She saw the vines at the edge of the clearing begin to pull
back from the forest itself, creating a firebreak. As the vines
retreated from the forest, she also noticed that there were several
mounds that ran along the ground from the tower to the trees. They
looked like mole tunnels, or maybe shallow roots - and she knew that
even without the surface vines, the tower was still in contact with
its forest. She began to run again while the tower was busy trying
to put out the fires at its base.
Part Six: Solution
Maks and Je'en slashed their way madly through the vine-infested
part of the forest, and managed to reach their horses in under a
day. Then, by pushing the horses and themselves to the limit and a
little bit beyond, Maks and Je'en managed to reach Dargon in three
more days. When Maks complained about the pace, Je'en just reminded
him of the fate that was creeping closer to his love every minute
that they were away from the tower. That made him shut up and hurry
on in silence for a long while.
She had plenty of time to think as they rode dangerously fast
through the forest. She wasn't exactly sure of the fate of Cefn, but
having seen him turned to stone, she figured that he would be safe
for a while. After all, those of the gypsies that had been petrified
had been alive when turned back - those that had turned to dust had
just been statues too long, she hoped, and the tower couldn't truly
prolong their existence so far past their time of dying. She fully
intended to rescue Cefn long before he reached that limit.
She knew exactly what she had to do to destroy the tower. The
tale she had remembered told of something called 'prenia' which
acted as an antidote, almost, to the specific kind of magic that had
given a pseudo life to the tower. The only problem was that she had
no idea just what prenia was, or even what it looked like. She could
only hope that someone in Dargon did.
Pausing only long enough for a proper meal and bath when they
arrived in Dargon, both Je'en and Maks began to scour the city for
anyone who knew of prenia. They searched everywhere, in the markets,
on the docks, in the business district, everywhere they could think
of - and no one had so much as a clue to the identity or whereabouts
of the thing called 'prenia'.
Two days passed in their search for the mysterious element they
needed, and they were both getting desperate. Then, Je'en had an idea.
The secretary in Kroan's office knew Je'en, and admitted her
with no trouble into his office. They hadn't seen each other in a
while, and they greeted each other warmly. Je'en introduced Maks to
her brother, and then they got down to business.
Je'en told Kroan why Maks had come to her and Cefn (whom Kroan
had met several times, and liked). And then, of what they had found
in the tower, and what had happened to Cefn, and what was happening,
hopefully very slowly, to Syusahn. And lastly, of the thing called
prenia that would save them both. "I hope you know what it is," said
Je'en, "because no one else in this town does."
Kroan searched his memory, but found nothing. He called in one
of his employees, an inventory clerk, and asked the young man to
quickly ask around about prenia. While the youngster carried out his
errand, Je'en and Kroan talked trivially to pass the time.
Finally, almost an hour later, the clerk returned to Kroan's
office bearing no good news - no one in the employ of Fifth I knew
what prenia was, either. Je'en sighed, and wondered what to do next
as she rose to leave. Then Kroan said, "Wait, Sis. Did you talk to
the local physician yet? His name is Aardvard Factotum, and he lives
a little way from town to the east. He has the most knowledge in the
area about things magical and/or ancient."
The man's name hadn't come up before, but Je'en had heard that
he was competent if a little ostentatious. She also knew that he was
unlikely to part with any information he had for free, so, after
thanking her brother for the lead, she went to the moneylender where
she kept her savings and withdrew almost all of what she had left,
converting the disparate currencies into gold marks. And then, with
Maks still following her, they rode off to Aardvard's cottage.
Ostentatious suited Aardvard and his home to a tee. Displays of
his wealth were everywhere, and the cottage itself was almost a
small villa. Je'en hoped that Aardvard was as knowledgeable as he
was rich.
They were admitted to a large sitting room by Aardvard's
servant, Hansen, who then departed with Je'en's request of an
audience with the physician. Hansen didn't return for a long time,
and Je'en recognized the ploy from her years in Court circles. Maks,
however, was not so learned, and he was pacing restlessly, fingering
the various objects that adorned the tables, and wall shelves of the
sitting room. He almost dropped a small, delicate china mouse when
Hansen finally did return, saying, "Excuse me, m'lord and m'lady,
but Aardvard will see you now." With a frown at the sheepish Maks,
who had returned the mouse to its shelf, Hansen led the way through
the house to Aardvard's receiving room.
Je'en studied the man sitting with his back to the only window
in the room as she and Maks were offered seats, and then glasses of
what looked and smelled like a delicate red wine, but which tasted,
at least to Je'en, like grape-flavored water. Aardvard Factotum was
as richly garbed as was his home, and he had the look of a rich man
about him - well fed, a little slothful, perhaps even a little
bored. But his eyes were keen and intelligent, so that Je'en wasn't
quite sure how much of what she saw was a front that he put on for
his rich clients.
The physician said, "So, what can I do for you, Je'lanthra'en
and Maks of the Gold Rim tribe?" Maks couldn't hide the astonished
look on his face when Aardvard addressed him by his full name -
neither he nor Je'en had given so complete an introduction to
Hansen. Je'en, however, was amused by Aardvard's tactics, and kept a
straight face.
She said, "We heard of your widely renowned knowledge, and we
have a question to ask you. Do you know of something called 'prenia'?"
Aardvard's eyes narrowed, and he took a few puffs on his
scrimshaw pipe. "What might you be needing with such a thing, my
dear?" he finally said.
"There is a tower to the south and west of here called Glasmelyn
Llaw. Long and long ago, a wizard enchanted it, and since then, that
enchantment has begun to go awry. The tower is beginning to take
over the whole forest. Prenia is the only thing that can stop it -
and save our two friends, who have been caught by the tower. If you
have any information about prenia, or even better actually have
some, we are willing to pay for it."
Aardvard got crafty at the mention of money. He said, "How much?"
"As much as you want, healer. It is very important to us, far
more important that a few gold marks. Can you help us?"
"Perhaps. I think I have a book in my library that refers to
this - what was it, 'pranya'? But I'm not all that sure..."
Je'en pulled the pouch of gold from inside her cloak, and
spilled it out on the table. "It's 'prenia', healer, and is it worth
thirty marks to you?"
"My, my, thirty marks is rather a lot for just a tiny bit of
information, isn't it. Here, keep ten, and I'll go get my books."
Aardvard quickly scooped up twenty marks, and hurried out of the
room. By the time Je'en had stowed the remainder of her gold within
her cloak, Aardvard had returned. bearing three large, musty tomes.
He placed them on a table to one side of the room, and began leafing
through them. Je'en rose, and peered over his shoulder. He seemed
about to snap at her to stop it at one point, but perhaps the size
of the payment cooled his temper, for he just turned back to the
books silently.
He found what he was looking for in the first book, and, using
some notations in the margin, quickly found what he wanted in the
other two. He turned to Je'en, and said, "As, I thought I was right.
Prenia is an ancient term for what we now call ice-wood. Its a kind
of tree that has no color at all: you can see right through it. I'm
afraid its very rare, though. I've never even seen a piece - its
very, very valuable."
"Ice-wood. Yes, I've heard of that - I've even seen it used as
jewelry in the south." Je'en frowned. "Well we now know what to look
for. Thank you, Master Factotum. I was sure you could help us. Good
bye." She and Maks retraced their way through the house, and back to
where their horses were tethered. Aardvard looked after them for a
moment, then went to stow away the gold. He briefly wondered if it
had been fair to take such a high price - but, she had offered it.
Je'en went straight back to her brother's office when they got
back to Dargon. If anyone would have something as rare as ice-wood,
it would be a large merchant firm, and if Fifth I didn't have any,
then Kroan would know who did.
"We found what prenia is - ice-wood. Does Fifth I have any
stored away anywhere?"
Again, Kroan had to search his memory, but this time, he found
what he was looking for. "Yes, we do! But, gods, Je'en, do you know
what that stuff costs?"
"I have a pretty good idea, Kroan. But, I have no choice.
Ice-wood is the only thing that will save Cefn and Syusahn. And we
need enough to make two small cages. I'll find some way to pay for
it, but I need it now. Please, Kroan, please..."
Kroan was not a ruthless merchant, and he knew that his sister
was sincere. So, he said, "It will take a little time. I'll bring it
to your house, Je'en, in about two hours. Okay?"
Je'en hugged her brother. "Fine. We'll be waiting. See you."
As they walked their horses back to Je'en house, Maks asked,
"Why do we need two cages? There is only one core up in that room."
Je'en said, "I know, but we have to increase our chances of
success. You felt the pressure as we were trying to escape, didn't
you? I don't know why the tower was 'asleep' when we approached
before, but it is sure to be awake and aware when we return. And, it
will know that we are enemies. I think we can sneak into the tower,
but the closer to the top room, and the core, we get, the harder it
will try to capture or kill us.
"Because we are going in, and not out, it is going to be even
harder to resist the influence of the tower. There is a good chance
that, if you concentrate on Syusahn, you will be able to get
through. I...I'm not quite as sure about myself. So, we will have
two cages, one for each of us, so that whoever reaches that thing
will be able to nullify it."
All Maks could say in reply was, "Oh."
By the time Kroan arrived at Je'en's house, both she and Maks
were pacing. Je'en was getting more and more worried. What she had
told Maks was the simple truth. She knew that his love for Syusahn
was great enough to sustain him through whatever mental influences
that the tower might throw at him. But, she had no such anchor, or
at least not such a strong one. Cefn was - well, a possibility. She
was extremely fond of the wizard, and perhaps more, but there was no
certainty, even within herself, much less between the two of them.
So, she would have to rely solely upon herself to carry her through
the attacks of the tower to rescue Cefn.
Kroan was carrying a large, iron, well-locked box when he
knocked on Je'en's door. He opened it, using three keys, and two
secret levers, in her living room, revealing a much smaller cavity
within that was full of four to six inch long twigs of wood that
were transparent. They did indeed look like ice sculptured to look
like wood. Je'en was sure that the box contained a kingdom's ransom
of prenia.
He also produced two spools of silver wire, and then set to work
with Je'en and Maks to build two cages, each a foot high, and eight
inches deep, with open bases. The silver wire served well to hold
the ice-wood pieces together, and was sturdy enough to help the
cages to keep their shape without a lot of wasteful cross-bracing.
When the cages were completed to Je'en's satisfaction, there was
still enough ice-wood in the box to make, perhaps, a third.
Kroan locked the chest back up, kissed his sister good bye,
shook Maks' hand, wished them both luck, and left. Je'en said, "We
had better get some rest. We leave tomorrow, as early as possible."
Part Seven: Rescue
Je'en and Maks could feel the awareness of the tower as soon as
they saw the first of the vines. The sense of an actively malicious
presence was acute, and the vines themselves were far more active
than they had been before.
It was difficult, but not impossible, to move at speed through
the vine-forest. In about half a day, though, they had reached the
point where it was impossible to keep going with the horses. So,
they dismounted, secured the four horses, and went on on foot. Je'en
didn't want to further alert the tower to their presence by cutting
through the vines, so, after a little survey work, she and Maks took
to the trees, traveling branch to branch up above the ground where
the vines were much less thickly interwoven.
By sunset of the day they left their horses, Je'en and Maks
reached the tower. There was still enough light to notice the
changes their previous escape had caused - mainly the absence of the
matting of vines that no longer surrounded the tower. Apparently, it
learned from its mistakes. Je'en could see that it had re-grown the
vines that had been burned away, but now they grew straight down the
wall, and into the ground.
They had come upon the tower directly across the clearing from
the door, and Je'en was surprised and happy to see that the door had
apparently burned away with the vines - all that was left of it was
melted hinges, and some of the other fittings lying in the ashes on
the ground. Fifty feet separated them from the open doorway, and
Je'en could feel the presence of the tower already beginning to
weigh on her mind, though it didn't yet realize that they were there.
She signaled to Maks, and they both unlimbered weapons and the
expensive ice-wood cages. Maks helped her attach her cage to the
bracer on her right wrist - she hoped that she didn't forget and try
to use the bracer to block a sword-blow if there were any
animateable statues left within.
Then, at another signal, they both began sprinting toward the
tower. Almost immediately, vines began to spring up out of the
ground and catch at their ankles. Je'en almost tripped several
times, but managed to keep her balance and footing, and keep on.
Neither stopped running when they reached the door and entered
the tower, but headed directly for the stairs. Je'en noticed in
passing that the fire had been carried into the main room, and very
little was left. It seemed that the tower didn't have a very
effective fire-fighting system.
Nothing physical hindered them inside the tower, but by the time
they reached the third floor, Je'en could feel the pressure on her
mind becoming almost unbearable already. She stumbled once on a
step, but recovered and kept on climbing. The little concentration
tricks that she had been taught as a bard helped, but the pain grew
too great by the fifth floor, and she had to go on to something else.
She continuously glanced at Maks, who was still following her.
There was a faraway look in his eyes, but it was a look of
concentration, not the look of possession. They had both slowed
down, now climbing the stairs to the sixth floor at little more than
a walk, and both beginning to sweat from the effort of moving
against the will of the tower, but Maks seemed to be having the
better time of it.
A sword flashed in Je'en's line of vision, and reflexes alone
moved her own up in time to block it. She focused on her gypsy
attacker, wondering how or why the tower had kept one in reserve.
She attacked back, very glad that the man was very young, and not a
swordsman. Though her movements were slowed by the tower, the gypsy
was slower, and in two strokes, Je'en had disarmed him, and then
disabled him with the flat of her blade on his temple.
Then she dropped her sword, and began ascending the fifth
turret's stairs, pulling herself along the wall with her good arm.
Maks followed, oblivious of everything around him, his mind set on
Syusahn who was being slowly robbed of her body in the room at the
top of the turret. Je'en tried to concentrate on Cefn, just a
statue, fated to be kept here and to be used against further
intruders until the time when he would be reanimated, and fall to
dust. It helped her, that image, but she still had to struggle,
clawing her way up the winding stairs one at a time, with the tower
beating incessantly at her mind.
By the time the topmost room came into view at the top of the
stairs, Je'en and Maks were moving very slowly, with long pauses
between movements. Je'en's mind was moving in tiny circles, thoughts
moving at random, her body moving automatically. The pain was
intense, crippling, and only the briefly glimpsed images of Cefn
that she had created before, but which she didn't understand
anymore, kept her moving at all.
Finally, with a sense of achievement that managed to pull her
fragmented consciousness back together, Je'en reached the top step,
and pulled herself into the top room. Little had changed here,
unlike outside. Tarlada-shadow still stood next to the table where
Syusahn lay, and the statue of Cefn was still in the room, though it
had moved against one wall. But, the thing on the table was pulsing
even more brightly now, and there was a throbbing that coincided
with its pulsing that sounded a lot like a heartbeat.
She began to advance on the table, as slowly as she had climbed
the stairs. Tarlada turned at the sound of her boots plodding across
the floor, and he said, "Ah, the masked one returns! Good. Good.
See, the short one is almost ready - I can free you very soon."
Je'en looked at the low table, and saw that Tarlada was right.
Syusahn was even paler than before, and her limbs almost seemed to
be as transparent as Tarlada. She took another step toward the
table, and looked for Maks.
The gypsy was there, right behind her, still gazing off into
nothingness, but his face had screwed up into a fierce mask of
concentration. His steps were as slow as hers, but Je'en could sense
that his determination to free his love was far stronger than her's
to stay alive and free Cefn.
Advancing a step at a time, she neared the thing on the table.
Tarlada began screaming at Maks and her after they removed the
cloths that had covered the ice-wood cages. Je'en's cage had taken
up the greenish glow of the core, and it began to glow on its own.
She hoped it was supposed to do that.
The tower redoubled its efforts to halt Je'en and Maks, causing
Je'en to cry out, and slow down. She could almost see the waves of
force directed at her form the core. She could feel each one as it
hit her body and sent lances of pain into her head. When she
couldn't take any more standing up, she went to her knees, and
pulled herself along. But, Maks never wavered, and kept going.
Then, just a few more feet from the table, Je'en felt her
control slip. Just for an instant, but it was enough. She was
reaching out her arm to pull herself along another few inches, when
she found she couldn't move. Her head was up enough to see the
table, and Maks, but she could no longer make any movement, not even
to blink her eyes. Maks, though, was still plodding along, step by
step closer to the thing.
The statue of Cefn was within her range of vision, and as Maks
reached the edge of the table, she saw it come to life. The wand in
his hand was still raised, and it pointed at the table. But, somehow
his cowl had been lowered, and just as his body returned to flesh,
and the wand began to glow, Cefn screamed, and covered his eyes with
both hands, dropping the wand which ceased to glow.
Maks raised his left hand, which was holding the cage, with the
same slowness he had moved. Now, his eyes were focused on something
- the table against the wall, and the attenuating Syusahn. Sweat was
streaming down his face, and his dark tunic was visibly wet from the
perspiration that ran down his body, but still he moved.
Enough of the wizard remained in Tarlada to recognize the
composition and purpose of the cage that was nearing the core. The
shadow man finally moved from his position by Syusahn's table, but
he moved as slowly as Maks did. Curses streamed from his mouth,
alternately directed at Maks and the tower itself. The core
responded by glowing even brighter, and the waves of force it was
sending out really did become visible. Je'en saw them hitting Maks,
making him stagger a little or flinch, but they couldn't stop him.
The waves got thicker, and hit harder, but Maks was almost finished
what he had to do. The cage was finally directly over the core, and,
as the waves of force began to draw blood as they struck the gypsy,
Maks began to lower it over the core.
Je'en watched, motionless and free of pain, as the cage slowly
settled into place. She saw the waves being cut off as they struck
the ice-wood of the cage as it covered more and more of the core.
Slowly, with Tarlada beating his shadow fists ineffectually on Maks,
and Cefn recovering enough to slip his cowl back on properly, the
cage trapped more and more of the core's essence. And, just as Cefn
was groping for his wand, ready to make a last ditch defense of his
master the tower, the cage touched the table.
When it did, the whole ice-wood construct flared a deep, healthy
blue, and rays of light joined the base points of the cage,
enclosing the core completely. Then, blue light bridged the open
spaces between the lattices of the cage, rapidly enclosing the core
in a solid form of blue light. As the last opening filled in with
light, the whole tower shuddered, and screamed. Tarlada, getting
even more transparent, added his thin voice to the noise, and then
Je'en was so suddenly and completely free that she collapsed.
Relief washed over her - relief that she was able to move, and
free of pain, and relief that the spell on the tower was finally
broken. She picked herself up slowly, and looked around. She saw the
blue box of light on the table, and noticed the vines that had
connected the core to the floor of the room were shriveling away,
having been severed from the core. She saw Maks, still bloody, over
by Syusahn, who was still pale, but no longer fading in the
extremities. And, she saw Cefn slumped against the wall, also
surveying the room.
After resting up a few minutes, she stood up, and went over to
Cefn. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"I think so. It was strange, though, to be in the control of the
tower like that. Just a momentary confusion, and it had me. And
then, I could see and hear, but not move. Even when I was attacking
you two, I couldn't feel myself move. The tower did it all.
"Well, think we should see about Maks and Syusahn?"
She helped him up - he seemed to be very weak, but otherwise
okay. They went over to the table where Maks was trying to wake
Syusahn up. Cefn knelt down beside Maks, and checked the girl's
pulse. Then he said, "She'll be fine, but I suspect she needs a lot
of rest. Je'en, if she could borrow your cloak..."
When Syusahn was bundled up, Maks turned to the cage with the
core in it. "What about that thing?" he asked. "Will it be safe
there, or do we have to do something else?"
Je'en said, "Once the cage is closed, nothing can open it again.
The ice-wood will slowly leach away the magic in the core, and when
it is all gone, it will disintegrate, along with the core. We have
done all that needs to be done."
"Good," said Cefn. "Let's get out of here."
Maks carried Syusahn, and they all began descending the many
stairs of the tower. On the fourth floor, one of the shelves
standing next to a wall caught Je'en's attention. She detoured over
to it, and stared in open-mouthed amazement at what was there. She
said, "Cefn, Maks, come look at this." They were both as astonished
as she was, but for different reasons.
Set up for display was an exquisitely carved King's Crown game
set. The board was made of dark, polished wood, with inlaid squares
of what looked like some kind of ivory, and triangles of some
lavender colored stone. One set of pieces were carved from what was
probably sapphire, but the most astonishing thing about the set to
Je'en was what the other set of pieces was carved from: firestone.
Each delicately carved piece had an ember of fire imbedded deep
within it, and she knew that that flame would respond to the touch
by flaring up and filling the whole figure with fire.
Maks ogled the storage boxes for each set of pieces. They were
each made of the same material as their pieces, but they were lined
with ysgafn, a kind of soft stone that was a perfect cushion for the
valuable game pieces. And Cefn, alone among them, recognized who had
made the set - a Master craftsman from ages and ages ago, whose work
was very rare and highly prized.
Je'en began picking up the firestone pieces, and putting them
away. Maks followed suit with the jade ones, and found that they
reacted just like the firestones, glowing palely as he touched them.
Je'en said, "I wonder if Tarlada knew what a treasure this is. Well,
he won't be needing this now, will he. I think that this will do
nicely in lieu of a fee, Maks - it'll help Cefn and I through the
lean winter months."
Maks just smiled, and continued to help her pack.
-John L. White <WHITE @ DREXELVM>
<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>