Month: September 2016

Rhiann slept. Grayness crept into his somnolence.

 

Wisps…

Threads…

Threads of Magick…

Threads of fate…

Threads of time…

Threads connecting worlds …

Dreams connecting worlds …

Dreams of Magick…

The Magick of Dreams…

Magick connecting dreams…

Magick connecting worlds…

Grayness…

 

Shapeless grayness took form in the visage of lovely Decima.

The voice said, “I thought you’d enjoy this visage.”

Rhiann answered his dream, “Seeing Decima makes me want to go to the Hanging Gardens instead of another world. Translocation was painful. I felt my soul was being ripped from my body.”

He ersatz Decima said, “It will get better. I’m leaving you a gift.”

Grayness faded. Rhiann awakened and found a goodly supply of fossilized shypoke eggshells tucked neatly in a ruck sack. Maranna returned from Cragmore, and Rhiann talked with her and Iyaca.

 

 

Rhiann prepared for another journey and carefully ground the shypoke eggshells and began the complex gestures. Every movement required precision. The movements of his hands could not vary by one- thousandth of an inchworm’s length! Rhiann cast the Translocation Spell. His level of discomfort diminished each time he crushed the shypoke eggshells.

The young Sorcerer felt his body and mind ripped through the fabric of space and time.

Absolute darkness…

Cold…

Void…

Then colors, and energies…

His thoughts were spinning violently out of control. He passed through vortex after vortex of color and energy. Pain coursed through very nerve ending. He felt the air sucked from his lungs.

Then, grayness…

Alas!

Had he died and entered the abyss?

Was there nothing more?

His feeling of hopelessness ended when he unceremoniously hit marshy ground. His lungs hungrily engulfed the fetid air of a swamp. Scents and sounds overwhelmed his senses. Quickly he sloshed across the shallow water on his hands and knees to get out of the open area of the bog and gain cover behind some trees. But where was he?

A single sun brightened the sky. The area was flat, so he could see little, and as he looked over the bog he saw only similar plants on the opposite side. A large bug crawled across his hand and he slung it away. Rhiann clutched the Staff of the West in his left hand. Just as the Tome described and the incantation promised, the staff remained with him. Perhaps the small amount of amber had helped the staff stay in his hand. Rhiann explored the land and learned its inhabitants called it Donothor.  Nature and preternatural beasts dominated the world. Diverse bands of inhabitants lived in small hamlets or lead nomadic lives. Great swamps occupied the southern reaches of the land. Mountain ranges divided the northern areas. Most of the world was wild. A tiny hamlet named Lyndyn provided a rare organized community in the north. Occasionally a dragon flew overhead. Donothor was a wild, primitive, and mundane world, which was untouched by Magick. It was not a suitable place for his plans. Rhiann concentrated on his focal point… the cabin Harmony House at Wombat Mountain, where the powdered shypoke eggshells had fallen to the floor. His return was instantaneous and much less traumatic.

The door opened and Iyaca entered.

Rhiann felt exhausted. He asked, “What year is it? How long was I away?”

Iyaca said, “I left you here this morning and you are still here. Have you sampled Maranna’s nectar?”

There was nothing for it.

It was time to try the spell… outside the grotto with the Bloodstone.

Rhiann uttered the phrases perfectly and pinched the fossilized shypoke eggshell. The hard shell dissipated into powder as the sorcerer conjured. As an extra bit of precaution, Rhiann applied amber to his left palm and grasped the Staff of the West Wind. He tied his bag of holding to the Staff of the West Wind.

 

Rhiann cast the spell.

 

To the north, the prismatic dragon Eyerthrin felt a great foreboding wave on the sea of Magick. Lord Bailiwick stood abruptly and spilled the potion he was creating. Caye Klarje Marsh felt foreboding feelings. Throughout Thynna uncertainty gripped sorcerers in the inner and outer ward. Ninth level Magick created great waves on the surface of Magick’s sea.

Rhiann knew he had performed the complex incantation correctly. The spell should have worked.

But…

Ruin…?

The young Sorcerer felt his body and mind ripped through the fabric of space and time.

Absolute darkness…

Cold…

Void…

Then colors, and energies…

His thoughts were spinning violently out of control. He passed through vortex after vortex of color and energy. Pain coursed through very nerve ending. He felt the air sucked from his lungs.

Then, grayness…

Redness entered Rhiann’s dream.

He dreamed again of horrific and disturbing images, including a great lake of flaming water.

Fire…evil…the stuff of nightmares…

Names…

DECKSTEQ.

Bailiwick…

Summoning spells…

Dreamraiders…

 

Wisps…

Threads…

Threads of Magick…

Threads of fate…

Threads of time…

Threads connecting worlds …

Dreams connecting worlds …

Dreams of Magick…

The Magick of Dreams…

Magick connecting dreams…

Magick connecting worlds…

Dream raiders…

Elf pressure…

Albtraum…

Albträume, elf dreams, nightmares…

 

Others probed his dreams.

Unnamed…

A gravelly voice muttered, “I shall follow you.”

Redness faded to blue. Rhiann dreamed of his travels with Donovan Eighty-four names. He awakened with mixed feelings.

Maranna had returned to Cragmore, and Iyaca returned to Thynna to assess the Council’s activity and deliver communiques from the Nameless Enchanter of Thynna to the counsel. The letters warned of the dangers of summoning spells and tapping unknown forces of Magick.

Rhiann sat alone in Harmony House and mulled the phrases of the great Translocation Spell in his mind. The sorcerer held a fragment of fossilized shypoke eggshell in his hand.

There was nothing for it.

It was time to try the spell…

Rhiann submitted to fatigue and slept.

 

Shapeless grayness again entered his mind.

 

Wisps…

Threads…

Threads of Magick…

Threads of fate…

Threads of time…

Threads connecting worlds …

Dreams connecting worlds …

Dreams of Magick…

The Magick of Dreams…

Magick connecting dreams…

Magick connecting worlds…

Grayness…

 

Shapeless grayness took form, specifically the visage of his Uncle Mayard Klarje. The visage spoke, “I thought you’d enjoy this visage.”

Rhiann answered his dream, “I’d have preferred to have had the opportunity to say goodbye to my Uncle.”

The voiced replied, “You should proceed with carrying out his wishes. It’s time to use the great spell. The very fabric of Sagain’s existence is tearing.”

Rhiann said, “I don’t have a destination… I don’t want to waste the shypoke eggshells.”

The visage changed to formless mist and said, “The eggshells will define your focal point, the point to which you will return. The eggshells fix the passage of time. Once you travel to a place the eggshells will fix a focal point as well. It’s not necessary to use the eggshells to return to a place you’ve previously visited, but you fix time only by using the eggshells. Maybe. You’ll learn. It’s Magick. Magick defies definitions and rules.”

Grayness faded. Rhiann slept fitfully for a bit.

Then…

Redness entered Rhiann’s dream.

He dreamed again of horrific and disturbing images, including a great lake of flaming water.

Fire…evil…the stuff of nightmares…

Names…

 

Rhiann moved stealthily through the streets and approached the inner curtain. Many Magick defenses had been added to the guards. He used the Staff of the West Wind and flew over the wall. He avoided going more than three or four feel above the wall walk to evade the airborne defenses of the inner ward. The opulent homes and edifices were well lit. Many monuments honoring Bailiwick, Yerko, and their associates dotted the area. The most painful for Rhiann was the large statue of John Money, the nefarious Man in Black, which stood precisely on the site of the old statue of Mayard Klarje in the central courtyard near the school. The largest houses now belonged to Bailiwick, Yerko, and High Sheriff Clank. Rhiann avoided contact and silently flew over the inner and then the outer curtain and made his way back to Harmony House.

Iyaca greeted him and said, “You are back so soon.”

Rhiann said, “Anonymity. Nameless. To all but my closest friends it’s what I’ll become. Please refer to me as NET… the Nameless Enchanter of Thynna. I’ll send communiques to the Council of Thynna to warn them about their risky activities. Bailiwick practices dangerous spells. Some of Bailiwick’s efforts creep into my mind. Powerful spells affect all touched by Magick. I fear Bailiwick has summoned arcane forces to Sagain. During the time I was in the grotto with the Bloodstone, the situation in Sagain has only gotten worse. My Uncle Mayard’s fears look evermore as though they’re coming to pass.”

Caye interrupted him, “Son, in my mind you died long ago. I’ve spent 600 years grieving you. Your father and I remain under constant scrutiny. Bailiwick is powerful. No one in Thynna will stand against him. He has alienated many peoples of the world. Thrice Thynna’s forces have repelled attacks from the nomadic Moonglows. Several times the Old Ones from the Hanging Gardens halted forays of Bailiwick’s armies into the Veldt. But he’s never been stronger. His alliance with the Hinderburgh Giants may swing the balance of power against the Three Sisters. Leave Thynna, my son. I cannot grieve you again. Perhaps you can find purpose with your brother Arthur Seigh at the Laurels. If Magick has a worthwhile future, it’s with the thinkers there. I’ll always remember your time before your journeys with Uncle Mayard. I wish you’d never taken the first step on his path.”

Shouts erupted outside and a loud knock on the door interrupted Caye. Rhiann uttered phrases and disappeared. The door flew open, and High Sheriff Clank burst into the foyer.

Clank screamed, “Where is he? Where is this bloke who claims to be your lost son?”

Caye gulped and said, “We are alone. We have been alone for six centuries.”

Clank’s deputies tore through the house and searched every nook and cranny. The Chief Deputy Klodno reported the house was occupied only by the elderly sorcerers.

Clank snarled, “I’ll get to the bottom of this matter, Caye Klarje. Lord Bailiwick does not tolerate tomfoolery. Someone presented to the outer curtain gate yesterday and claimed to be Rhiann Klarje. Then the impassible gate gets violated! Lord Bailiwick and Castellan Yerko do not believe in coincidence. If I find out you are hiding knowledge of this person, I’ll have you scrubbing the floors of the mercenaries’ latrine.”

Caye quizzically asked, “Only Rhiann know the significance of these things. You must be… him. You look so young. Are you using a Transformation Spell?”

Rhiann replied, “No, Mother, I was away. Time moved at a different pace for me. I discovered what Uncle Mayard sought. My purpose in life is follow his path and preserve what’s good of Magick and Sagain.”

Caye said, “Kurth, this is our son.”

Kurth said, “Then he must leave immediately. There’s nothing for him in Thynna. The Castellan, High Sheriff, and Lord Bailiwick can’t know he’s been here. It’s trouble for us.”

Caye said, “Your father is correct. When something goes awry in Thynna, we are always the first to blame and be investigated. Deputies will be here soon. You must go.”

Rhiann tearfully said, “I… I just wanted to see you… to let you know I’m alive…I…”

Caye said, “Then you have done so. Now, you must leave Thynna. You’ll find no help and no sympathetic ears. All traces of your Uncle Mayard are gone. Lord Bailiwick always blamed you for the theft of the Gem Bush. We have suffered in your stead. It’s best we live out our days in anonymity.”

Kurth stood and demanded, “You have been away over 600 years. Now you return to complicate our lives. We sent your brother as far away from Thynna as was practical. Mayard was an old fool. You are a fool to follow him. Please leave, and don’t involve any Old Ones.”

Rhiann fought back tears. He bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek and said, “I love you, mother. I’m sorry…”

His mother gave him the name Seffa Lexin. In a moment of time, the name forever left his memory. A celestial visitor appeared in the gray skies and moved toward the massive gray sun. This remnant of a dead sun traveled rapidly and slammed into the giant Andreas. The cosmic collision dispersed many fragments of the gray sun. Frozen by fear and wonder, the hunter stared upward. A miniscule piece of the gray sun hurdled toward him. The fragment moved quickly, approached to within a hand’s distance, paused, hovered briefly, circled him thrice, and then buried into the bewildered simple bloke’s left hand, between his fifth and sixth digit.  Excruciating pain stole consciousness from him, and the hunter fell to the ground.

Seffa dreamed.

His mind retraced his simple life, but then redness replaced the visions in his mind’s eye.

 

Wisps…

Threads…

Threads of Magick…

Threads of fate…

Threads of time…

Threads connecting worlds …

Dreams connecting worlds …

Dreams of Magick…

The Magick of Dreams…

Magick connecting dreams…

Magick connecting worlds…

Dream raiders…

Elf pressure…

Albtraum…

Albträume, elf dreams, nightmares…

Rhiann said, “May I enter?”

From within an elderly man’s voice cracked, “The hour is late. Return on the morrow.”

Rhiann’s spirits dropped. Another voice said, “The city is abuzz, Kurth. It might be important.”

The door opened. An elderly, unkempt Caye Klarje looked at the young man on her door stoop.

Rhiann said, “Hello, Mother.”

Caye Klarje coldly said, “This is a cruel hoax. You are a minion of Bailiwick, and you mock my son all the way down to his birthmark! Have not my mate and I adhered to every request of Lord Bailiwick, Castellan Yerko, and the Council of Thynna?”

Rhiann said, “Mother, it’s me. May I enter?”

Caye answered monotonically, “We cannot refuse entry to agents of the Council of Thynna. It’s part of our clemency deal. So enter, finish your tormenting, and be gone.”

Sorcerers and more guards rushed past. Caye and Kurth’s neighbor said as he ran by, “Someone opened the gate.”

Rhiann crossed the threshold. Clutter and decline marred the once immaculately maintained home. Rhiann stepped over old clothing and entered the sitting room. Kurth Marsh sat in his overstuffed chair and stared blankly at the wall. The elderly sorcerer scarcely acknowledged Rhiann’s entering the room.

Rhiann said, “Father, are you well?”

Kurth looked up at the new arrival and said, “Rhiann left long ago. It strains my memory to recall his appearance, but you look remarkably like him. The birthmark is particularly accurate. Now you’ve effectively brought back painful memories to my mate… and to me. Tell Lord Bailiwick he has succeeded.”

Caye entered and curtly said, “I suppose we’ll be accused of opening the gate. Tell High Sorcerer Bailiwick that I haven’t uttered a spell in centuries. Magick is as dead to me as my son. Kurth and I have been here all night.”