Machine, page 9
part #1 of The Peradran Legacy Series
Morbannon stood in the sun, he had finished his purchases and carried a package wrapped in wax paper and tied with twine. Cohiri was with Makad talking with one of the guards near the stairs. They stopped when Morbannon approached.
“Sorry to interrupt.” They remained silent, Morbannon continued, “Cohiri, was there anything you might need?”
“I might, if I knew where we were going.”
“Later, if there is nothing you need now there are ample supplies when we get there.”
“I guess that's it Kagen. What now?” Her humble tone barely faltered when she used Morbannon's assumed identity. He straightened and gave her a smug blink of approval.
Makad seemed ready to suggest something when Morbannon said, “We'll see about fitting you in here when we have finished. What do you think Makad?”
Makad's guard friend drifted away into the post.
“You'll need to earn a living, what can you do?” Makad had really just met Cohiri. Humans rarely lived among the Lalgoræ, they were easily intimidated by the abundance of magic incorporated into the Lalgoran lifestyle. What would her place be among his people.
They had to move before Cohiri could answer, to allow a column of carts to pass. They ascended the stairs and stopped outside of the Garden. The rope bridge before them was built like stairs leading up and around a solitary Scalla trunk. Where it led, high above, could not be seen. Only the bridge winding up and around the great tree, appearing now and then through the thick foliage, could be seen.
Drawn compulsively toward the stairs Cohiri ascended the shaky rope bridge.
“Where is she going?” Morbannon asked Makad.
“I think Cohiri might fit in after all.” He answered Morbannon with a smile on his words.
Cohiri was making good time and was turning out of sight already. Where she climbed as they watched was a large groove that curved beneath the stairs and over her head. Stringy moss enclosed the bridge through the groove making it appear as though Cohiri was entering an arboreal cave. Their voices faded behind her, the sound of the straining ropes and her heartbeat was all she could hear.
Strange questions flooded her mind as she ascended. Questions she tried to answer but the next questions came too fast. Questions about the Arcane, her sword, her hair color. Questions that she knew no answer to and questions filled with words she had never heard. Just when she thought she could hear the voice next to her the questions stopped. She looked around and realized that she was high in the tree. The bridge continued upward but the strange compulsion ceased. She looked down and her acrophobia responded. Suddenly she felt the bridge sway in the wind, her knees felt weak and she wobbled as she walked. Then the hand rope ended. She realized grimly the bridge might continue another fifty feet around the trunk again, upward. She looked up and could not see if the bridge spiraled over her. Maybe she was near.
“Near to where?” Her voice was shaky and lacked any confident tone at all, yet she laughed as she spoke aloud.
The ropes seemed to strain even more as she advanced. The path seemed to level as the steps grew closer together. She then realized that she was in the sun for the first time during her ascent. Leafy shadows danced on the path and the trunk next to her. She continued forward watching her footing. The shadows danced over her feet, like each shadow possessed itself to do so separately from the rest. The squeak of the ropes versus tree bark sounded like the tiny laughter of the dancing shadows. One came to rest on her shoulder, strange sounds from all around her came together to form the tiny voice.
“You're not afraid are you? If you were, you might panic and fall.” The leaf shaped shadow quivered in mock fright. Its tiny sounds became a static spark that danced together with the other shadows. The static charge menaced Cohiri by lashing out from the shadows.
“We were once powerful demons.” The tiny voice became a chorus. “Yes, very powerful!”
“What are you now? Shadows. That's it. So let me pass!” She moved to pass but the spark lashed out toward her face. The energy made her hair stand on end.
“We are too much for you. Turn back!” The chorus jeered.
Cohiri realized that if she was going to pass she would have to properly evade the once powerful demons. They were bound to stand as a barrier to whatever lay ahead as a sort of Arcane punishment. Naturally demons were devoted to evil, the more powerful the more evil. These 'demons' were practically harmless, merely a hazard on a rickety rope bridge some two hundred feet in the air. Yet she could not pass and the charm was with Morbannon.
“Nice sword.” The shadows venerated.
They wanted to distract her, the sparks began to sting where they touched her hand and cheek. The leafy shadows danced hypnotically in and out of her sight. The sounds of the forest continued to mingle synchronously with the actions of the ill-natured shadows. The effect caused her to avert her gaze. She stepped back, losing ground to the display.
“Watch your step, you can't fly...” The shadow on her shoulder shuddered, the others pranced in mid air.
Slowly Cohiri's hands clenched into fists, her brow furrowed with concentration. The air before her began to glow. The shadows 'oohed' at the effort. Cohiri remained still, her effort flared like a tiny nova. A small blazing white ball of Arcane energy formed before her. The shadows danced away from the radiant beams. She followed the fleeing spirits with her gaze, the ball followed. She began to walk forward keeping her stare focused on the path. The formless sounds dispersed as she passed the turn. The shadows faded behind her, returning to places unoccupied by the sunlight.
The path curved sharply around a massive branch that grew almost straight up. Below the branch the path hung freely on ropes with no support from the trunk. There was also no hand rail, only ropes set vertically four feet apart from which the path hung. Choosing not to crawl, Cohiri walked slowly out under the massive branch. She had forgotten about her ball of light which faded as it passed out of her line of sight. Walking slowly and stopping for a moment at each rope Cohiri rounded the turn. Before her stood a door, below it was a mat with a pair of floppy boots on top. A small bell hung from the tree to her left, to the right was open air.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PSYCHEMANCER
The sound of the bell was barely perceptible. Its tone echoed in her mind, she stood transfixed as the door opened. Beyond lay darkness. Numbly Cohiri entered and walked part way down a short hallway. As her eyes adjusted to the light the door closed secluding her in blackness. Cohiri focused her attention inwardly. With sheer will she conjured another slightly smaller ball which glowed faintly of blue. She opened her eyes and it was just as she pictured it. When she shifted her gaze the sphere followed, allowing her to see clearly around her. The walls and floor were fashioned similar to Makad's. Here the wood came together in a much more organized pattern. Parallel lines and basic geometric patterns literally filled the hallway. She moved down the hall to where it turned 180 degrees, back on itself. Then around another 180 to the left then right then right again. The whole apartment seemed to be one little hall after another. The walls were merely partitions, just inches thick.
After a time, she couldn't tell just how long, she began to notice the partitions were shifting just out of her sight. She began to watch how and when the partitions moved. They moved without a sound and very quickly. She was being led through a maze that never ended, the paths would continue to change. She turned around to search for the door, before her stood a Lalgorè. He stood about five-two with green eyes. He had the features of a Lalgorè much older than Makad. The first truly old Lalgorè she had seen. His eyes were clear and bright. He stood strait and a smile was on his face.
Politely he introduced himself, “Ah, young lady. I am Cirrez. Please enter.” He gestured for Cohiri to enter past him. She stepped past Cirrez through a doorway that led into a sunlit room. The geometric motif seemed to continue throughout the apartment. Cirrez closed the door and approached Cohiri.
“The Ball of Light was a nice clean solution. I've seen others try more aggressive methods and fail. My Little Shadows are quite devious.”
“I just concentrated and there it was, my Ball of Light. Next thing I know their tiny voices had faded and I had passed them. I think I could do it any time I want.” She found herself explaining everything like she knew the Lalgorè.
“I can see that.” Cirrez folded his arms and looked up at Cohiri with a plain face.
She canceled the bluish Ball of Light, she nearly forgot she had conjured it..
“Good, very good. Your talent is developing well. Come, there must be a great deal you would like know.”
The room was rectangular with a door diagonal from the one she entered through. Large multi-paned windows filled the short walls. The ceiling was vaulted and made entirely from similar glass. He led her to a chair beside a desk in the center of the room. Its surface was cluttered with innumerable objects. Most of the items were crafted from elemental silver. The others ranged from elemental brass to iron. Some of the items had symbols on them. Symbols that seemed to her familiar. The rest of the room was adorned with lanterns placed generously about. Cirrez waited for her to sit then slid over a chair for himself.
“There are questions...Yes? Questions you could not ask Him, the one that waits with Makad in the Garden.” When Cirrez spoke the word Him a picture of Morbannon formed in her mind. The image was strong but not solitary, other images followed but they remained fluid and nondescript. Immediately she formed a question.
“Where did my charm come from?” Cohiri's voice was smooth and low in her throat. Like her lungs were overfull.
“It was a gift from... Keldon. The boy you Vanished.” Cirrez looked into Cohiri's eyes and blinked. She was genuinely baffled. “You thought he just walked away?”
“Yes.” Her tone had changed to a slightly higher pitch.
“Don't worry, once you get the charm back you can restore your friend. Its quite simple then. All you have to do is return to where it happened and...” He broke off. Cohiri was looking quite pale. “What is the matter dear girl?”
“I can't go back to where it happened.” Her countenance was one of hopelessness.
“You mean your first meeting with Him, the fight. Well, don't fret too heavily. The Guard you injured lives. Ciltia's mounted men are an elite group, they're all very strong willed.”
“You know Ciltia?” Cohiri edged forward on her chair, eager to know what Ciltia would do for the charm.
“Not personally. She is from the Ancient Cyrc'tyr forests to the northeast. There, there is a graveyard a thousand years older than me. Her royal blood runs just as deep in the Lalgoran Order. I knew her Mother, Queen to King Aubyrll four hundred years ago. He still rules fifty Khapr today, a millennium of peace. As far as your charm, I don't know what she would do. She married a human after all.”
Cohiri knew little of the Lalgoræ save for what Morbannon shared with her the night they arrived in the forest. They considered Humans as singularly temporary. Lalgoræ watched Humans evolve from primitive nomadic tribes to the advanced culture they existed in at the time of her birth in mere generations. An item like the charm must seem to Ciltia as above Human worth. The few like Morbannon might succeed in their quest for Immortality but such an item to him is just temporary. Until she attained such a level she fully intended to remain in possession of her charm. To her neither Humans nor the charm were temporary, they were quite permanent.
“What should I do?” She remained perched in her chair.
“Go with your friend and return to me. I will make you my student. If you wish, I would teach you the way of Psychomancy; the magic of the mind. With it your own natural talents would grow exponentially.” Cirrez's expression was unreadable, his face was relaxed and a polite smile possessed his lips.
“Why would you help me? I'm just a novice, my own sword could be the end of me.” She stopped when Cirrez's smile shifted to a grimace.
“You shouldn't doubt yourself Cohiri. I'm going to help you because you're a natural. Your talent is raw but quite measurable. During the course of your studies you would be aiding me in my own studies, it has been a long time since I took an apprentice.”
“Apprentice? Where would I live?”
“This isn't the only room in my house, I could make space. Lets have a look around, then you can return to your friend.” Cirrez stood and moved toward the far door. Cohiri stood behind him and followed him through the door.
The next room was lavishly furnished, a couple of sofas and armchairs were laid out around a strange looking table with three tiers, the bottom tier was a large bean shaped surface. The second two tiers were much smaller. Set about were top to bottom; a lamp, a crystal bottle of booze with a small glass, and an ancient tome laying open on an ornate stand. The far wall was covered with small tapestries each depicting Lalgoræ during historic moments. Near the wall was a metal oven for heat. There was no fire burning today; it was the latter half of the Peradran summer. To the left was a spiral staircase leading to a loft that served as a library. Near the stairs was a door. To the right was an atrium, large panes of glass allowed ample light to flow inward. The shared wall was designed to serve as a simple kitchen.
“When you return you can have the loft, you'll be spending alot of time with those books.” Cirrez beamed as Cohiri gaped at the endless volumes. “I've written many of those you see, the rest have been committed to memory. If you study a fraction of what is there you will do well to match your friends ability. You may well grow independent of your charm before long. My library is written completely in the Lalgoran tongue so you will have to learn it.”
Cohiri approached the spiral stairs, they were shaped from the living wood and very ornate. As she ascended a subtle odor began to permeate the air. Ancient leather bindings falling prey to entropy and unnoticed dust blended together in a unique olfactory experience. It gave her respect for Cirrez for collecting such a priceless library. Upon closer inspection she noticed that every tome was labeled. When she attempted to read a title she found herself mentally deciphering each symbol, discerning the meaning of each pen stroke. Then she noticed a presence and turned to see Cirrez, who had managed to ascend the stairs without a sound, approach and peer over her shoulder.
“You learn quickly, it will be easy with you for a student.”
“What will be easy?” Cohiri found herself doubting, suddenly, the intentions of the old Lalgorè.
Cirrez answered quickly, “A successor. I need a successor, you have the potential. As much as I've experienced I still cannot see into the future, but you...” His next compliment was interrupted when a disturbance in the atrium drew his attention. “Wait here, there is a secret entrance that leads to the Garden, I was not expecting another visitor.” He moved with blinding speed, opening another hidden door in the bookshelf and disappearing through it then closing it behind him.
She stood in silence with the musty smell of the books. Suddenly, from the atrium she heard Cirrez's voice. Then as if she imagined it she heard Morbannon respond. They spoke in the Arcane tongue of the Lalgoræ. Though she had no conscious command of the language she could sense tension in their meeting. They remained out of sight and continued their dialogue in private.
Before long Cirrez called out to her, “Cohiri come into the atrium.”
She descended the stairs and entered the atrium expecting to see Morbannon. He was not there, Cirrez stood alone.
“Cohiri, I will be waiting for your return. Your friend awaits in the Garden.” He gestured to an open panel of glass for her to exit.
“Thank you Cirrez, wish me luck.” She bowed low to the Lalgorè and stepped through the glass.
“One thing you should know. Kagen respects your talent – because he doesn't know what you've got!” He smiled and waved her out.
She followed the narrow path for several feet and turned to look back. Nothing but thick foliage could be seen, the path seemed to end at her feet. She backed away before she could look down. A few steps more and she was standing on the thick planking of a main bridge in the upper reaches of the Great Garden. Morbannon was standing a few feet away from Makad who leaned against the backrest of a long curved bench. To them Cohiri simply appeared next to the trees. Both understood why. Cohiri also understood. The secret path that Morbannon found was enchanted to disguise itself from plain view.
“How did you find it?” She stood back and regarded the foliage. No sign of a path was visible.
“I showed him.” Makad seemed smug. “When I tried to warn him of the powerful illusion, he merely stepped into the branches and disappeared. He just now returned ahead of you.” He turned to face Morbannon. “The question is, why aren't you still lost? That path is tricky even for me.”
Makad was familiar with hidden pathways such as the path to Cirrez's atrium. One probably existed for his own apartment. Without the Arcane to command for himself, Makad could not totally penetrate such illusions. But as a Lalgorè he was born into a community where such circumstances were common. By successfully navigating the path Morbannon opened the door to what he was trying to hide; his own command of the Arcane.
“Like you Makad, I am also a hunter, I use the same tricks.” His response was a little thin but Makad seemed to buy it. “What happened in there?” He turned to face Cohiri who was still scanning for signs of the path.
“I think I'm going to be coming back to apprentice for Cirrez.” She was beaming with satisfaction as she walked to them. Makad took his hand from the bench and gave her a pat on the shoulder. Morbannon managed a smile of approval. Hidden behind the smile was anxiety. For Cirrez was once a Steel Wizard, before Morbannon was born. The legend of his battles continue to inspire the hearts of the oldest and most cruel warmongers. Cohiri has wandered into the hands of one of the most powerful magicians on Peradra. Her destiny was spilling out before her like a great cornucopia. His own destiny lay in another dimension, trapped inside a strange suit of armor.
