Shaping Magic (14 page)

When he told about the healing of Donovan, he saw Fenella lean forward in her chair, and when he told of the oath, he followed his friend's example and left out the part where they could communicate with each other in their minds, believing that it was private and only for them to know. When he got to the part of hearing the voice in his head, he debated leaving that out, but he figured if she was going to help them understand what was going on, she should know. Finally, he told them about the carving of the mountain in the Dwarven castle.

When he was finished, Lindon waited for the old witch to say something, but it was Aina that asked, “Why didn't you tell us about the voice?”

  “There hasn't really been a chance to. Since leaving the castle, we have been on the move and the darkness of the caves didn't seem like the right place to talk about it.” He paused, thinking about the carving. “Donovan,” Lindon said.

“What,” he said testily.

Lindon, not catching the tone, asked, “Do you know more about the carving, the one down an unused tunnel in the castle?” He explained the carving a bit more.

“I think I know the one you mean and no, I don't know much about it. When I was younger I went exploring in the castle and came across it but when I asked about it no one knew anything about it or they didn't want to tell me.” He paused for a second before continuing. “I remember that when I saw it, it seemed to draw me in, and I lost track of time and must have stood there for hours studying it.”

“The same thing happened to me and when Aina called me, that's where I was. There was something about it that I had to see, but I don't know if I did or not.”

“I know what you mean; it was like something on it was calling to me.”

Both Donovan and Lindon looked at the witch. “Would you know anything about it?” Lindon asked.

Fenella had been listening to them as they talked about the carving in the Dwarven hallway. “Yes, I do; it is in a land far from here in a place devoid of life, where a great battle was once fought between the forces of life and death. It was once a beautiful land from all accounts, that is, until the second race rose up and laid waste to it. The Dragons at the time came to the Elves’ aid in battling the cursed ones. The land suffered for it and from what I understand, nothing can live there without withering and dying. That’s why it was called the wasteland of Corathin.”

“Where is it?” Lindon had to ask. There was something about it that he couldn't let slip away.

“That I don't know for sure, about all I do know is that it is far to the south,” she answered.

Lindon stared into his cup lost in thought. Something about the carving was nagging him. He couldn't tell what it was, but it seemed to him that she was right about where it was and the feeling grew stronger when he thought of going there.

“What is happening, Grandmother? What should we do?  Where should we go?” Donovan asked Fenella.

“As to what is happening, I believe we are living in the time of prophecy and you three are right in the middle of it. What you should do and where to go is something I do not know, but I believe the time for secrets between you three must come to an end if you ever hope to succeed.”

Lindon looked up at that—what secrets? He had told them all he could. She wasn't looking at him, though, only between Aina and Donovan.

“It is the time to tell the truth of your people left in Shu Kala forest,” she said to Aina.

“I...” Aina started but the look from the witch stopped her. She buried her face into her hands and started crying.

“It’s okay, Aina. If it's too much to say, you don't have to,” Lindon started to say.

“Yes she does!” The iron tone of the old witch stopped Lindon. “It must be told, for if you don't know, how will you know what is happening?”

“It’s okay, Lindon; she is right, and as much as it pains me, you have a right to know,” she said still with tears in her eyes. “There is a sickness in my people, not of the body but of the mind. Where at one time they loved life even revered it, now they fear it. The barrier that surrounds them at one time would only confuse and misdirect anyone who went in uninvited, but now will kill instantly, stripping the flesh from your body and then even the bones will melt until there is no trace you were ever there.”

  “That’s horrible!” Lindon said, shocked.

“Yes it is! Even Elves will die if we try to enter it from this side.” She paused, remembering. “There was a group of us that was forced to leave mostly because of the plan to change the barrier to what it is now. A few of them later decided to go back and try to work from the inside to stop the isolation that my people were headed for, but it was too late. When they entered, the rest of us watched in horror as they were slowly killed by the magic. There was nothing any of us could do, and now we can't even tell the ones inside of the death to their own people that their isolation has cost.” Aina didn't wish to tell them that her mother was one of the ones that went back.

Lindon had to ask; not wanting to cause her more pain, but because he needed to know. “How many of you made it out?”

“Less than a thousand made it out that day. We had heard of Aodhan and his resistance to King Tristan, so I was sent to try to find him and ask for his help. It didn't work out so well—he was not able to help, his forces are scattered to prevent capture, and none of his magic users could help us breach the barrier. I was leaving to go back to my people the very morning we were attacked. I can only hope that he has made it to the sanctuary and has now joined with my people.”

Lindon looked at Aina, feeling the sorrow at the loss of her people. “I am truly sorry for your loss.”

“Tell them,” the old witch commanded.

Aina didn't respond right away; instead she looked down at her tea. When she spoke next, she looked into Lindon's eyes. “Donovan is not the only one to keep secrets. My name is Aina Bow-Strike, Queen of the Elven people.”

Donovan laughed. “I knew there was something about your name that was familiar,” Donovan said in good spirits. He reached across and patted her on the back. “Now I don't feel so out of place among my friends.”

Looking at the Dwarf, she was grateful for his acceptance of who she was. She was certain that when he found out who she really was, their friendship would come to an end, but once again, this Dwarf surprised her. “Thank you, your friendship means a lot,” she said quietly.  She looked to Lindon to see his reaction.

“You have no need to worry; you are our friend and no matter where you come from, that will not change. Besides, I didn't know what the difference between royalty and common folk was until I started this journey,” Lindon said with a smile.

Aina felt blessed to have come to know these remarkable people. She was not sure if there were any of her people that could so easily forgive, being misled as these two.

Smiling at the three of them for trusting each other, Fenella then turned to Donovan. “It is time for you to trust.”

Donovan quickly turned toward Fenella, but seeing the look on her face, swallowed his words. Bowing his head he said, “I have told you who I am, but what I haven't told is what I am. Among our people, once a generation—and for a Dwarf that is a long time—there comes one among us with a certain ability. This is something that no one who is not a Dwarf should ever know, but is the reason I have been hunted and captured.”

Seeing that he had the full attention of his friends, he began to hum. He closed his eyes and feeling the connection to the earth, began.

At first, Lindon wasn't sure what Donovan was going to do, but suddenly the room began to change. The stone wall behind Donovan became fluid. Lindon watched in amazement as new shelving appeared on the wall and the one bare wall started to swirl. When it was done, what was left was a carving of the Dwarven city.

When Donovan stopped humming, Lindon was amazed at what he had just witnessed. He was about to say so when suddenly the table they were sitting at began to change from a modest square wooden table into an ornate one with intricate carvings up and down the legs. The tabletop went from a simple plain surface into one with a replica of the outdoor forest and grasslands.

“Donovan!” Lindon gasped. “This is amazing. How did you do this?” He had seen magic being worked before and had always seen a reddish glow when someone was doing something with magic, but this time he didn't see or feel anything.

“I don't know; I can only work with stone, not wood,” Donovan said, just as shocked as Lindon.

“That's because it wasn't Donovan that shaped the table,” Aina said quietly.

Both Donovan and Lindon turned to her. “You did this to the table?” Donovan said.

“Yes. Like the Dwarfs, the Elves also have one person a generation that is a shaper but instead of stone or metal, we can shape wood or anything organic.”

“I don't understand exactly what a shaper is?” Lindon asked. “I mean it wasn't magic that you both did; it was something else.”

The old witch had been silent, letting the friends learn about each other's abilities, “You’re right; a shaper doesn't use magic. What they do does not come from an outside source, it comes from within. They are part of the natural world and can join with their element to make changes in its structure. Since Donovan is a Dwarf, his element is earth, so he can shape stone or even metal. Aina is an Elf so her element is nature, the living things that grow.”

Lindon was listing intently; there was something about what she was saying that had to do with him.

“Tell me, Lindon, are you able to affect magic in any way besides just absorbing it?” she asked.

Lindon thought about what it was she was asking. “Yes, I believe I have.”

Staring intently at Lindon, she said, “Tell us!” Seeing Lindon's hesitation, she continued. “It is important, for if what I believe is true, then we are all in great danger—not just us, but the entire world.”

Nodding his head, Lindon said, “There have been a few times I have done more than just absorbed magic. In the tunnels leading down to the city, the Dwarven magus created a light and when he did, my mind sort of called to it and it started to come to me. When I pulled my mind away, it continued on the path the magic user wanted.” Then, thinking about when he was protecting the prisoners, he added, “When we went to find the missing Dwarfs, the magus there sent a bolt of lighting at Donovan and Aina, and I sort of reached out to pull it toward me.”

Both of his friends looked hard at him. “Why didn't you tell us?” Donovan said.

“I didn't think it was important to mention it and when the battle was over, I didn't really give it any thought.”

They looked at each other, sharing a thought about how remarkable this young man truly was. Not only did he save their lives, but was too modest to even mention it.

“Is that it?” Fenella asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Not really, but I don't think I have done anything else. That's about all I can say for sure.”

“That's okay; I have my answer,” she said quietly.

The look on the old witch's face did nothing to ease Lindon's mind. Fearing the worst but needing to know, he asked, “What does it mean? Why is this happening?”

She looked at the young man, “It means, Lindon, that like your friends here, you too are a shaper. Whereas they shape the natural elements of the world, you shape the unnatural.”

Both Donovan and Aina gasped in disbelief. “That's impossible!”

“There has never been a Human shaper before; we had always thought that it was impossible for them to achieve that level of growth mentally. For a Human to be a shaper and to be able to shape magic, cannot be,” Aina said with some venom in her voice.

“Yes well, be that as it may, here sits one before us.” Fenella’s voice was trembling as she said it. “And it gets worse than that—there is a prophecy about it. An extremely rare and obscure one. Not very many have ever heard its words.”

The old witch got up from her seat and slowly made her way to her sleeping area. Bending down, she pulled up a corner of the rug that was at the end of her bed. Next, she spoke softly and Lindon could see the glow of magic. When she stood once again, she was carrying an aged book. It was barley holding together. With very gentle hands, she laid it on to the table.

“This is the book of Boyden Nersive; he was a profit that lived many eons ago, one of the first Dwarven people,” she said with reverence. “There are many things written in here, but this is the one that I believe is about the three of you.

“Try to remember his mind was quite far gone, it was said he was crazy when he wrote this, so not a lot of people put much belief in these words. There were a few that did, though, and dutifully wrote every word he uttered.