A Wizard's Tears (15 page)

Vergail lay on a stone table within the heart of the guilds of magick. She was unconscious, but very much alive, her chest rising and lowering in sleep filled contentment. Her tattered red robe hung about her, ripped so that her shoulders, arms and legs were exposed to the cold, dank air.

Around her, a multitude of energies rippled through the room. Guided by Lorkayn, who stood but several feet away, the energies interwove and danced in a macabre ritual. Very occasionally, the energies would collide with the priestess, and when this happened, a small sliver of blood would appear where the energy hit her. Her flesh was being cut, methodically, with precision and with meticulous timing.

Lorkayn exulted in the power. He had harnessed the energies present in the building around him, the ancient stone that reeked of magick and spell craft. It was a fitting place to enhance his own sorcery, and, combined with the forces of the gods within the priestess, he was building and refining that power for his own aims.

He was chanting, loudly and incessantly, filling his lungs with the energies sweeping across the room. Each tentacle of light that skittered across the stone and rock of the building flared up as power was added to it. Each beam of energy that sliced into the priestess returned doubled in power. All of this new energy he fed into himself, a nucleus in the centre of this kaleidoscope, feeding from the power and growing.

He let the power flow from him, creating large, dark pillars of obsidian as he pointed and shook the very air into matter. Within moments he had constructed a dark chamber made of these pillars, with a black roof holding them all together. In the middle of this chamber lay the priestess, breathing her dreams of virtue.

The stone that made up the original chamber shook, as if the presence of the small chamber within it caused it to be afraid. Cracks appeared throughout the old chamber, the presence of a new and darker sorcery affecting the ancient stone that had been forged by the mages of Elrohen. For this new chamber was made not by Elrohen, but by something else. Something not of that world.

Lorkayn stopped suddenly, to look up and regard his new creation. He walked underneath the black roof, and the pillars that kept it up. Here, the power was centralised, focused. Here, the priestess would rise again, but not as a servant to her old God. She would be reborn, and become a servant, a slave to his will and his bidding.

Keldoran clutched the still form of Relb between his arms, his face awash with tears. What had he done? Choking, he buried his face in Relb's tattered, charred clothing, and sobbed. He had not seen him! He thought he had been lashing out at the lizard man. His energy spent, his eyesight had returned, and he had seen with a sense of absolute horror the scene before him: Relb, on the ground, dead.

"He was trying to get you to run," whimpered Yvanna, who had fallen to her knees beside Keldoran. Her face was shocked and pallid. Her eyes shed tears. Her shivering, shaking hands gripped hold of Keldoran's in an ice grip. "He was trying to save you…"

Keldoran could not speak. His insides churned and roiled. He wanted to throw up, but his body did not have the strength. Filled with anguish and grief, Keldoran felt the worst he had ever felt in his entire life. At that moment, he wanted nothing better than to end his own life as penance for his crime. His mind drifted back to the farm he grew up in. He wished he had never left, and taken his father's advice concerning mages. He should have been a farmer, and should have been grateful for it. The thought vanished as quickly as it came. Raising his head, Keldoran noticed for the first time two other bodies, unmoving in this cold, dark chamber by the catacombs.

His mind remembered the struggle; he remembered Corg and Nagoth fighting the Slardinian. A fresh wave of nausea hit him, and this time he did retch, only nothing came out. His body convulsed, and a sharp pain punched his stomach, making him double over. Let the magick kill him, he thought. Let it overwhelm him, and crush him. Let it be painful.

The sound of Yvanna sobbing beside him jolted his self-loathing. It was just the two of them, now. They were still in danger. He could not just stop and let the lizard man return to kill them both. As much as he despised himself, he would not curl up and watch Yvanna die. She needed him, and if truth were told, he needed her.

He lowered Relb carefully back to the ground. His eyes red and puffy, Keldoran clambered on hands and feet to the other bodies. He needed to know for sure that Corg and Nagoth were also dead. He kept hold of a piece of hope that maybe they were alive, somehow. He needed this hope to keep him going. His whole body was numb. Shock, guilt and horror were his enemies right now, and he fought to resist the despairing urge to just lie down and wait to die.

Yvanna cried behind him, her voice a pitiful, harrowing noise. Reaching Corg, with trembling hands, Keldoran felt for a pulse, for some sign of life from the juggler. He lay in a pool of his own blood. His body was scarred and scratched with multiple wounds. Keldoran's tears flowed fresh. This close, Keldoran began to realise how savage the fight had been. He prayed that the Slardinian would receive a painful, violent death.

Yet, what was this? A pulse? He could feel a heartbeat! Putting his head on the juggler's chest, Keldoran struggled to listen. Yes, unmistakably, he could hear a heart beating, but it was faint, and very irregular. It did not matter! He was alive! Corg was alive! He let out a small gasp of relief.

Yvanna ran over to him, and quickly saw the reason for Keldoran's reaction. Colour came back to her cheeks, as she, and Keldoran, grasped hold of this one piece of good fortune. If Corg lived, then there was hope. Despair, which had grabbed them in an iron fist, released them momentarily, giving them room to breathe. Keldoran no longer thought about killing himself. He must help Corg, and he must help Yvanna. This was his new reason for living.

He moved over to Nagoth, but instantly all hope that he might live was devastated. His body was almost in two pieces, his back split upward and his rib cage showing through his green skin. Yvanna could not look at him, covering her face with her hands, crying anew. Keldoran's mind flared in anger. Nagoth and Relb had both been killed in minutes. There was no justice in this, no honour. Keldoran tried to stop the attacking despair from taking hold again. His guilt and shock for killing Relb was still fresh, and although he desperately tried to focus on the living, to the problems in hand, he could not. In tears, Keldoran collapsed to the ground. This was too much for him to bear.

Yvanna watched him fall, and for a moment did nothing. She had stopped crying at the knowledge that Corg lived, and she held onto this information for dear life, like it was an island in the middle of a stormy ocean. Her whole world had turned upside down since she had left the village of Demorbaln and started this journey to Malana. Her beautiful dreams of living in luxury with a mage had long since evaporated in her mind. Her dreams had been replaced by cold fear. Events had happened so quickly around her, spiralling out of control, and she had not coped. It was alien to her, for she had
always
coped in the past. She must do so again.

She wiped away the tears in her eyes, and knelt down before Keldoran, who had his head in his hands. Moreover, he had gone white again; all colour in his skin gone. She remembered Corg's words of him being close to death, something about the land magick within him. The situation, did, indeed, look hopeless. Fighting to control her quivering voice, Yvanna spoke to him, trying to sound commanding and in control. "Keldoran, we must leave here. Both you and Corg are badly hurt, and need help. We need to find a mage to help us. We cannot stay here any longer. This might be our only chance to escape, now that the lizard man has gone."

Keldoran did not respond, and, in sudden annoyance, Yvanna reached out and pulled away his hands from his face. The young man looked at her, tears caressing his eyes. His mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing came out. He simply stared at her, his face a picture of despair and futility.

"We
must
leave," insisted Yvanna, her voice cracking slightly. "Don't give in. We'll get help. We must get help."
For moments Keldoran just sat there, looking at her. She could see the fear in his eyes, the turmoil in his soul. Her eyes welled up again, in pity for him. She had no idea what he was thinking. He had killed Relb. She had no idea what it was like to feel pain for something like that. Instinctively, she did the only thing she could: she hugged him tightly. Gradually, Keldoran moved his arms, and hugged her back. His hug was fierce.
"Thank you, Yvanna," he said after a short while, releasing her from their embrace. "We must leave, as you say. I just-" his words hung in his throat.
"Don't say anything," she replied softly. "Just act. I need you Keldoran. I can't survive this alone."
Her words spurred him into action. "Give me a hand with Corg," he said. "Let's get him into a more
comfortable position. I know what it is I must do."
Together, they managed to lift Corg and put him next to one of the walls in the chamber, propping his head up as best they could, to try and improve his breathing. That done, Keldoran turned to Yvanna. "I hate leaving him here alone, but we must. He is too heavy for the two of us to carry."
Yvanna nodded, glumly. "Right, so we get help, and get a mage to come and heal him."
Keldoran nodded in agreement. "Yes, but first we must go into the catacombs. I can't fully explain it, but, well, my magick, it gives me visions."
"Dreams, you mean," answered Yvanna. "Keldoran, we can't go in there! We'd get hopelessly lost, and you are not well enough. We must find a mage-"
Keldoran cut her off sharply. "I have no choice. The land magick will kill me soon, unless it is controlled. I have been told as much. There is an object in the catacombs that will control my magick, and heal me. I know the way to it - I have been shown! If I don't get it, I'm as good as dead."
"If we leave Corg long enough, he's as good as dead!" blurted out Yvanna argumentatively. "Keldoran, no, please don't, it's folly to go into those catacombs. Corg needs help, and we need to get out of here!"
Keldoran would not budge. Tears dribbled down his cheeks as he saw the anguish in Yvanna's eyes. He looked at Corg, and gulped nervously. Yvanna was right. The juggler needed them to get help. Yet the vision, the meeting between him and the Ice Lord was as clear in his mind as anything. He had to get the crystal staff. He needed Yvanna with him, too. He had not the strength or energy to enter the catacombs by himself. The path that led to the Ice Lord's artefact was a long one. "Yvanna, I need you to help me. I cannot reach the object without you."
It became clear to Yvanna that she had a choice. On one hand, she could leave Corg and help Keldoran find this object that could save him, although she could not get her head round the visions and magicks abundant within Keldoran. She did not believe in these dreams of his, and yet, something in her believed in Keldoran. She had witnessed him do amazing things with his land magick, and indeed, some horrific things. Her mind drifted to Relb; her breath caught in her throat. No, she must not think of that! It was clear that Keldoran held great power, of that she could not deny, and it did, indeed, need to be controlled.
On the other hand, she could go and try and find help for Corg. The thought immediately chilled her, to wander alone in the guild with the sorcerer and his pet lizard man hunting her down. She could quite easily get herself killed, and what good would that do for anyone? In addition, if she chose this way, Keldoran, by his own words, would probably die. He could not move very far by himself, and needed her strong arms and legs to help him.
Finally, and reluctantly, she agreed to help Keldoran. Corg would hopefully still be breathing when they returned, and they might even be able to carry him out of here if Keldoran could heal himself like he said he could. "I pray you are right, Keldoran," she said to him. "I hope your vision is right."
Keldoran nodded in appreciation to her. "I have no doubt in my mind that the vision is true."
Yvanna nodded at him. "Then let's go."
Grabbing hold of Keldoran's waist, giving him support, Yvanna helped Keldoran onwards. Keldoran wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder, squeezing it with gratitude. He walked without hesitation down the third of the five exits from the chamber.
The light faded away as they walked further, and before long they had descended into darkness. They could not see in front of their face. Yvanna stopped walking sharply.
"Trust me," said Keldoran to her, his voice thick with emotion. "I know the way. I will guide your steps." Yvanna caught the sadness in his voice. Relb's death was affecting him badly. She knew she could do nothing to ease his suffering. Moreover, she was scared, down here in the dark. She wondered whether they were doing the right thing. It seemed insane, to come down here, following no more than a dream! Yet she did not voice her concern. She needed to be strong, for herself and for Keldoran. She squeezed his waist tightly, indicating she would trust him, although her mind screamed at her to run back the way they had come.
Keldoran inched forward, slowly, Yvanna helping his tired muscles. The magick within him was sharp, and his breath wheezed out in short, painful gasps. His mind and eyes wept tears for Relb. He tried not to think about what had happened. He must carry on, forward, slowly, feeling for the way the Ice Lord had given him.
It was as if he had walked these paths since he was young. Keldoran turned this way and that, burrowing deeper and deeper into the mage's catacombs. Yvanna was forced to concede to herself that Keldoran did, indeed, know where he was going. They did not collide with a wall, or a dead end, or stumble lost in the dark. Keldoran led them on with unerring accuracy.
Time passed, and Yvanna could hear Keldoran wheezing harder and with obvious pain. His touch was icy cold, and she could sense him shivering beside her. "Keldoran, are you ok? Can you go on?" she whispered to him worriedly.
"Yes," he replied instantly, in a voice that suggested anything but. "I have to go on."
"I wish I could help your pain," said Yvanna miserably. "I feel useless, here."
Keldoran shook his head. "No, Yvanna, I couldn't have got this far without you. I was ready to curl up and die back in the chamber. You knocked me back to my senses."
Yvanna squeezed Keldoran in sympathy. "It was an accident," she said simply. "Relb…dying…was an accident."
Keldoran did not answer. She could feel the tension in the air, the thoughts that were unsaid. He clearly hated himself for what he had done, accident or otherwise. Reluctantly, she carried on talking, thinking to herself that it was probably not what Keldoran wanted to hear, but, to her, was necessary to say. "Relb would forgive you. You were trying to save us all. You saved me from dying by the hands of that creature, and Corg owes his life to you as well. How can what you did be bad?"
"Relb was an innocent," answered Keldoran harshly. "He came to learn magick, and magick killed him. Dreams and aspirations should never kill you."
Keldoran stopped, then, and Yvanna could feel his shoulders and chest heave in sobs. He let out a cry of pain, not from the magick burning his insides, but for Relb. He clutched onto her tightly.
"You mustn't blame yourself," insisted Yvanna. "If I had your power, I would have tried to do the same."
For long moments Keldoran just cried, burying his face into her shoulder. Yvanna just hugged him, trying to soothe him. Tears came to her eyes, too, and she blinked them away angrily. Keldoran needed her right now, and she needed him. They had to fight this despair together. She leant forward and kissed him gently on the cheek.
"Let's find this artefact," she whispered into his ear. "Let's heal you and get back to Corg. That's all that matters right now. That's all we can think of. That's all we should think of."
Keldoran led them on, fighting back his anguish. Soon they reached a cavern which had faint blue crystals embedded into the walls. The cavern had a high, domed roof, and they could both make out symbols etched into the roof, of what seemed like strange runic writing. They did not know what the symbols represented; presumably this was a place mages came to in order to recite and practice special magicks. Keldoran took Yvanna right through this cavern and into the exit on the opposite side to the one they had come in.
Once more the darkness returned, much to Yvanna's chagrin. She had been glad of the sudden respite in the cavern. Light, for some reason, made things less miserable to her. Now, the deeper they went into these catacombs, the stronger the urge to panic rose within her. Yet Keldoran had shown his knowledge, and she reassured herself again with this fact. "How much further?" she asked.
"We're about half way," said Keldoran.
Yvanna's heart sank. "Only half way? It feels like we've been here for hours."
Keldoran did not answer, his conversational prowess abruptly changed by the course of events. He had become a withdrawn, wretched figure. Yvanna remembered the first few conversations they had had together. Keldoran had been full of optimism, of excitement and exuberance for life and magick. Now, he seemed a completely different person. Yvanna prayed to Untaba that he would endure and return to his old, cheerful self. She found herself missing that person, more than she cared to admit.
They walked on in silence, just the sound of their footsteps echoing in the windy catacombs. Breezes constantly hit their faces from different directions, and Yvanna wondered where the winds were coming from. The air was cold, and fresh, and the caverns and tunnels were a chilling place to be. That, combined with the intense darkness, made them the worst places she had ever been in her life.
Her mind, oddly, went to her father. If he could see her now, he would be proud, more proud than when she had looked after him following her mother's death. The thought was comforting. Perhaps, finally, she was learning what it was like to have compassion. She had never truly felt a deep compassion for her father, considering him weak and stupid after her mother's death. She regretted thinking that, something she thought she would never admit. Keldoran stopped her thoughts. He suddenly changed direction, causing her to stumble slightly. He caught hold of her just in time. "Sorry," he apologised to her. "I nearly missed that turning. We need to go this way." He turned right and led her along a narrow tunnel. Here, she could reach out her arms and touch both sides of the tunnel. Keldoran had to move in front of her at times, when the tunnel grew narrower. This forced them to slow down, as Keldoran could barely move by himself. He was getting gradually worse. When she had aided him, they had walked at a good pace, her own strong legs and arms encouraging him. Some of his weight she had taken from him, and now, as he walked alone, his burden became apparent.
He coughed violently, and Keldoran could taste blood in his mouth. The pain inside of him stabbed at him, and he staggered against the wall of the tunnel. Yvanna was by his side immediately, helping him up.
"Just a bit…further," he wheezed.
"You'll make it," said Yvanna, willing it to be true. "We've come this far!"
They stumbled on, the pain rising and rising in Keldoran's stomach. He could feel energy snaking out of his hands and mouth, and Yvanna could see small puffs of blue energy appearing and then disappearing around him. "What's happening?" she asked him worriedly.
"Getting out of…control," he coughed back. "We must hurry…"
The tunnel eventually ended, and opened out into a vast chamber. Through Keldoran's seeping energy, Yvanna had enough light to make out a lake at the bottom of this cavern, with the ground sloping downwards towards it. Keldoran was shaking, now, his body convulsing and writhing. Each time his body shook, a larger blast of cold, blue energy sizzled into life. "Yvanna, stay away from me." he ordered. "I must reach the lake. We've made it…"
He collapsed onto the hard ground, and Yvanna sought to help him up, but the energy surrounding him was bright and powerful, and she dared not go close to him. She watched as he struggled on, crawling along the ground, moving slowly but determinedly towards the lake. After agonising moments, he reached the water's edge.
The water stirred and bubbled, as if noticing his presence. With a loud rumble, Keldoran looked up to see a pedestal surging upwards out of the water. Atop, shimmering majestically in the light of his blue energy, was the artefact he desperately sought: the crystal staff of the Ice Lords.
With a scream that tore through Yvanna's mind, Keldoran convulsed, his back arching in agony. From his mouth poured cold, blue energy, and as it was released, it sped towards the staff, being drawn there by the power of the object. It engulfed the crystal staff, which flared a bright, searing blue, and then the energy was gone, captured into the magickal device. Shuddering, Keldoran collapsed unconscious to the ground.
Darkness engulfed the chamber, and Yvanna was left in silence and in fear. Her breathing became quick and nervous. Forcing herself to calm down, she walked very slowly and carefully towards where she thought she had seen Keldoran collapse, feeling the way in front of her with her hands. She was very conscious of the ground sloping underneath her, so her movement was cautious. She hoped she would not wander around the cavern for an age, trying to find him.
She need not have worried. With an explosion of light, the crystal staff bathed the cavern in a blue glow, giving her the sight she needed to find Keldoran. She looked at the artefact, watching it from its resting-place on the pedestal. It shimmered with blue light, and to her eyes was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. With the staff as her guide, she ran over to Keldoran, lifting him up into a sitting position on the ground.
She was stunned to see his eyes flicker, and open. His body felt warm to the touch, and his breathing was regular. No blue energy seeped from his mouth or his fingertips. With a cry of hope and exultation, she hugged him with a fierce strength. His vision had been right. He had saved himself!
Keldoran did not express the same joy. Although he had healed himself, the crystal staff now containing his land magick rather than his weaker body, he felt no pleasure. The fact remained; he had killed Relb. He did not deserve to live, to laugh, and to feel exuberance. He lived now, for one further purpose: to heal Corg, and that was all. After that he could not think.