A Wizard's Tears (2 page)

Lights that would have blinded anyone looking at them pierced into the limp form of Lorkayn, reviving him from the edge of death. Coruscating in fierce glows of violet energy, the power that was the gods lifted Lorkayn's body, holding him steady in the air.

A voice entered Lorkayn's mind, and with a numbing sensation he realised it was a god talking to him. He had no time to wonder at being alive. He heard only the voice. Calming, soothing, deadly in its power. Around him, there was nothing. He floated in nothing. All he could hear was the voice, piercing his mind and soul, touching the core of his being.

Death is too easy for one such as you, Lorkayn. Torture is too malevolent, stooping down to your own twisted level. The wisdom of the gods is eternal. We offer you redemption, by banishment into the Planes of Nowhere. You will choose your own destiny.

Let us turn to the world of Elrohen.
Some of the world believed the land had been created by a great magician; for it seeped with magick and miraculous beings. Every pore, every crack of the world suffused powerful, rhythmic energies. It was almost alive, organic, breathing in the air and growing from the oxygen. Indeed, who was to say it wasn’t alive?
Others, and wisely so, believed in the existence of the three gods known as the Endless. Morduk, the god of nature, believed to have created the land and forests, the mountains and lakes, the air and oxygen, the ice and water. Untaba, the god of survival, believed to have provided the food and essentials for life, the lungs, the heart, and the delicate balance of life. Sla’hek, the god of spirits, the giver of dreams, magick, and the soul.
Whatever the truth, it remained hidden, never to be found.
Blissfully unaware, believing their own religion, the humans lived on Elrohen. The main continent, Emorthos, was their home. The outer islands and lands held a deep, dark mysticism, with tales of monsters and powerful races. Humans did not venture to these lands, unless driven by curiosity and adventure. Those that left the haven of Emorthos to charter the oceans seldom returned. Except for the mages.
To be a mage was a high ranking in Emorthos, a sign of superiority, of command. The common folk: the shop owners, the tramps, the thieves, the farmers, the carpenters, all held mages in bewildered awe. They did not understand the ancient texts of magick, written in an odd tongue long forgotten. Most could not even read. To be educated, trained in the arts of magick, was to be revered.
Human mages were the protectors of the land. They frequently used their powers to quell rebellions and squabbles among people and the other races. Their power was absolute. They had an innate, natural ability to perform spells, seeming to bend the rules of nature to their own ends. Those that possessed such ability travelled far into the higher rankings of the mage system. There were some that had no such ability, but through learning and reading the ancient texts, proved they could summon basic mage magicks. It was believed the magick ability existed in all beings, dormant, needing just a little encouragement to come forth.
The mages of Emorthos were an arrogant bunch. Imbued with their power, many of them scorned the other humans that rejected the call of the magick. Although the protectors of villages and towns, many of the common folk despised them for what the mages had become.

Keldoran’s father choked on his tankard of ale, spewing it out across the air in a watery jet that ended up as a frightening stain on his woollen tunic. “What?” he bellowed at his son.

“You heard me,” said Keldoran, slightly annoyed by his father’s reaction. “I’m fed up being a farmer’s son.”
“And just what is wrong with being a farmer’s son?” argued his father hotly. “It has been that way for generations in our family! We live a peaceful but rewarding life. The food you eat, we grew. Those muscles on your shoulders, they came from the hard work in the fields. You would throw that honest life away for the tricks and deceit of the mages?”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, father,” said Keldoran, trying not to raise his voice, hiding his bitterness well. “I know we have farmed for generations. I appreciate all you have taught me. It’s just, well, I need a change. I don’t want to live the rest of my days as a farmer. I want to see the world, make something more out of my life.”
“No, Keldoran!” barked his father. “I will not allow it. I don’t want you to join the mages. You’ve seen the way they walk around the village, as if they own it! Pompous freaks!”
“You know I’m not like that, father. You’ve taught me well. How will becoming a mage make me pompous?”
“They play with your mind,” he tapped his forehead with his finger to emphasise the point. “Before long, you won’t be the same person! You’ll be one of them. One o’ the ‘robes. My own son, one o’ the ‘robes!”
Now Keldoran was angry. His face flushed red, his heart raced. “I don’t know how you can be so stuck in your ways!” His voice was loud now, filled with frustration. “The mages protect us. They put their lives at risk for us. Just because you can’t read and do what they do, you take it personally.”
“Shut up!” his father rose to his feet angrily. “I’ll not take that from you, my own son! Don’t you see? Don’t you get it? The mages don’t help us. They do it just to get a bit more power, a bit more respect from us, poor defenceless peasants!” he spat out the last word with heavy sarcasm. “I forbid it Keldoran. I expect to see you tomorrow with no more talk on becoming a mage. You are a farmer’s son, and a farmer you will be!”
His father turned and stormed away. Keldoran heard the door slam behind him.
Sighing, Keldoran dwelt on his father’s words. He knew it was going to be upsetting for his father, the fact that he wanted to leave the farm, but he had not expected such an outburst. It was true some of the mages appeared arrogant, but he knew he wasn’t like that. He would be a good mage; one that talked to the people, listened to their wishes.
The magick was calling to him. He could no longer be a farmer, not even if he tried. His heart was lost to the magick he could see everyday. It had been a dream for a few years, but now, as he reached his mid-twenties, he was close to the age when he could travel to Malana and become part of the guild of magicians there.
Keldoran rose from his seat, and stepped outside of his home. He looked across at the fields of the farmland, and heard the bleating of the animals. It had been all he had known. All his life he had lived here, in this tiny village. He had heard tales of the great golden city of Malana, the tall spires, the cathedral, one of the great wonders of the world! He felt an irresistible pull to visit it, see something of the world before he got too old. If he stayed here, even for another year, he would end up being the farmer his father clearly wanted him to be.
It wasn’t going to happen.
“Keldoran, have you upset your father?”
It was his mother’s voice, and Keldoran turned from the view to face her. She had been out visiting her friend, and had just come back in. He had not heard her.
“He’s locked himself away in that room of his. Sometimes, he can get such a mood on!” His mother smiled at her son, shaking her head in bemusement.
Keldoran smiled back. “Yes, it’s me this time”.
His mother was a lot easier to talk to. She understood his quirks, his feelings for the magick. In her youth, she had been a witch. “Care to talk, son?”
Keldoran nodded, and his mother led him inside to the kitchen. There she opened a cupboard, got out a loaf of bread, and started cutting it into slices with a large knife. “Care for some bread and cheese?” she asked her son, who nodded gladly.
She fixed him some food, poured out some water from a jug, and sat down with him at the kitchen table. It was a huge oak table, carved by his father.
“So, Keldoran,” said his mother, “what is it this time? The call of the magick is depressing him, yes?”
Keldoran nodded. “Yes. I told him I wanted to be a mage.”
“Ah. So you have finally accepted the force burning within you.”
“Yes!” said Keldoran excitedly. “It’s been there, for years. Deep down, I have always wanted to be a mage.”
“You have a lot of me within you, Keldoran,” said his mother in satisfaction. “Your father, although he shies away from the magick of this world, knows this to be true as well. He will not stop you from going.”
“He has forbidden me to go already,” stated Keldoran glumly.
“Ah, he does not mean it. Now, at this point in time, he means it. He wanted you to follow in his footsteps, to prove to the world that we didn’t need the magick to survive and live a normal life. In a way, he’s done this already.”
Keldoran took a bite out of his bread, and chewed on it thoughtfully. His mother drank some water, eyeing him curiously. “Keldoran, your father doesn’t hate the magick. He hates what the mages are doing: creating an orderly, strict society. It’s this that he doesn’t like. For once, I am in complete agreement with him.”
“You are?” said Keldoran in surprise. “Does this mean you don’t want me to leave either?”
“Keldoran, you will do what you must. I will be proud of you if you become a mage. I will be overwhelmed with joy if you become the best mage. The mage that doesn’t judge, doesn’t play by strict laws and rules, and listens to the world and its people. This is the mage I want you to be.”
“That’s the mage I want to be!” declared her son passionately.
She smiled. “Then you have my blessing, son. I will talk to your father. He cannot deny the magick surrounding this family. He can feel it, just as you and I can.”
“What did he say, after you had married, and you told him you used to be a witch?”
She laughed at the question, her voice musical to Keldoran’s ears. “Let me just say that was the night you were conceived!” she giggled in delight at the memory. “At first he didn’t understand what it meant to be a witch. Once I explained things to him, calmed him down, he was fine with it.”
Keldoran finished his bread and cheese. His mother leant forward, and kissed him lightly on his temple. “I sense something great within you, Keldoran. It is your calling, to be a mage. I think you will be a very good one!”
Keldoran hugged his mother, glad of her words. “Thank you,” he said simply.

Witches were classed higher in rank than commoners, and even monks. It was the power they possessed. Magick held all power on the world of Elrohen. As well as simple spells of protection, seeing and transformation, witches could summon animals, control the four elements and conjure illusions to trick or delight. Keldoran’s mother had been a great witch, one of the most creative at spells and magick. Yet she had met Keldoran’s father, and had decided to retire from the spell world, to live in nature and harmony.

In a way, this was a greater power.
How little she knew about the world, thought Keldoran’s mother. She watched the sun set over the farm, its orange light caressing the fields with a warm, delightful glow. She had sent Keldoran to bed, to rest. Tomorrow, she would confront his father, and watch her son take the journey to Malana shortly thereafter. His time had come.
She loved this time of night. Dusk. The sun bathing all in a loving glow, bobbing low over the horizon. This, indeed, was a time of great magick. She waited expectantly for the faeries to arrive.
They were always difficult to see, unless you knew where to look. She smiled then, grateful in her own knowledge. So many people would miss such beauty. Such a shame, she thought. Faeries made you feel alive!
Barefoot, she walked out onto the grass. Bending down, she picked up a blade in her fingers, and blew it away with her soft breath. As the wind picked it up and sent it merrily on its way, several small winged beings leapt away from it, darting in front of her twinkling eyes. Giggling, she smiled at them, and they seemed almost to wave at her, before flying high into the sky, their wings whisking them to higher places.
“Keldoran, you will soon know much,” she whispered to herself. “It is an exciting time for you, my son.”
She watched as the sun set. The warmth faded, replaced by the excitement of night. Stars appeared in the sky, and a white light from the three moons covered all in a wash of majestic beauty. Humming to herself, she walked through the field, laughing at the faeries that scattered before her like dandelion seeds. They flew around her, buzzing in euphoria. They always appeared so happy. She smiled at them, enveloping herself in their magick.
It coursed through her body. She held her arms aloft, as if to touch one of the moons in her outstretched hands. The magick of the land rose with her, filling her with strength and warmth. She would cast a spell, she thought, one for Keldoran. A seeing spell that looked towards his future, and blessed it.
That night, Keldoran slept very soundly indeed.

The weeks drifted by at their usual pace, although to Keldoran it seemed that each day was getting longer and longer. He became impatient, counting down the hours, mentally crossing them off in his mind. Finally, after what appeared to be an age for Keldoran, the day he had been waiting for arrived.

A mage was coming to the village to find apprentices. Leaping out of bed, Keldoran’s heart raced. At long last he was leaving the farm; going on the adventure of his life. He was bored here. Although he quite often enjoyed the physical labour, the idyllic nature of the countryside, something inside of him wanted to fly – to see more of the world and become one with its magicks. Elrohen was calling to him, opening its vast lands and oceans to him. It was his time.
That morning, there was an uncomfortable silence around the breakfast table. His mother had talked to his father, who, as the weeks went by, grudgingly began to accept that his little boy was becoming a man, and as such, had his own mind to do whatever he chose. Now the day had come, he frowned across the table at his son, not sure what to say. Part of him had not wanted his son to leave, yet part of him could accept his son’s wishes and admire those youthful dreams that were his to make true.
Breakfast was eaten. Dishes were cleaned and dried. Keldoran’s mother embraced her son fondly, kissing him on the cheek. “Blessed be, Keldoran,” she said simply.
Keldoran rose from the table, and returned his mother’s embrace. “I’ll return one day, Mother. As a mage, and with the wisdom mages possess.”
His mother grinned, and winked at him.
Keldoran walked around the table to his father, who had not said a word. Offering his hand, Keldoran waited for his father to shake it goodbye. Surprised was an understatement, when his father stood and engulfed him in a fierce bear like hug.
“I shall miss you, son,” he said. “Not just for your hard work in the farm, but as a companion. We had many good conversations. I know I wanted you to be a farmer, to follow in your family’s traditions, but I see now how silly that is. You have a strange force about you, Keldoran, as if there is something, some entity, calling to you. I may not understand it, part of me gets damn right angry about it, but I know that through it you will bring about some great event. I just know it. You are strong willed indeed. You have my blessing.”
Keldoran hugged his father gratefully. “Thank you,” was all he could think of to say; it seemed to be enough right now.
Behind the two of them, his mother grinned impishly. She nodded her head knowingly.