The Book of Deacon (35 page)

"Well, the time has come. The Elder wants to
see the newcomers now. Let us not keep her waiting," he said.

"We will have to awaken Myn and bring Leo,"
Deacon explained, leading her out the door. "The Elder will need to
see them as well."

"Who is the Elder? Why do we have to see
her?" Myranda asked.

Deacon answered as they walked.

"The Elder is the most learned member of our
ranks. She represents the very wisest and balanced of the Masters,
and is one of only two Archmages. She is essentially our leader,
making sure that all relevant decisions are well-made. She will
determine what skills you and your friends have, and what training
will suit you best. In fact, despite the fact that Solomon and Ayna
both chose you to be their student, the Elder must be the one to
allow it. If she thinks poorly of the choice, then you will have to
work your way through the ranks like everyone else," he said.

The two reached Myranda's hut, where Myn was
still sleeping. Deacon focused a brief flash of concentration on
her and she was immediately awake. She thanked Deacon by pouncing
on him once again for being too close to Myranda. With the dragon
keeping the pair carefully separated, Deacon and Myranda sought out
the healer's hut, where Leo was just testing out his freshly
repaired legs. Myn scampered about him while Myranda gave him a
stern look.

Finally, the group entered the large hut at
the center of a very large courtyard in the middle of the village.
Inside it was solemn as a church. Unlike the crystals that gave
light to the other huts, this one was lit entirely with flickering
candles. At the back of the room, in a simple wooden chair, was the
woman who could only be the Elder that they spoke of. She did not
appear very old, but one glimpse of her told of a wisdom that would
have taken two lifetimes to gain. She was dressed as simply as the
others; only a gold-colored sash draped about her neck made her
stand out. Her hair was gray and pulled gracefully back behind her
shoulders. She was clearly elfin in nature, with a tall, thin
physique and distinctive ears.

The only other occupants of the room were a
handful of men and women who were busy at various tasks, mostly
involving large leather-bound books.

When the three stood before her, Deacon
introduced them in yet another new language. Myranda bowed when she
heard her name. Leo stood firm when his was spoken. Myn had locked
her gaze on the Elder the moment she had seen her, and refused to
look away. The little dragon must have sensed something about her,
felt her power, and was entranced by it. The Elder surveyed the
trio with a measuring stare. Finally she spoke, her voice clear and
confident. The language matched that of Deacon.

"The girl will be a fine wizard. Her mind is
strong and her heart is pure. The malthrope may go. I am satisfied
with his past accomplishments here. Allow him whatever he requires
to further himself. The dragon is still young. Her potential is
great. See that she is brought before Solomon. And prepare them. I
want each ready with the coming of the blue moon. They must witness
the ceremony," she decreed in her complex language.

Leo, clearly understanding her words, took
his leave, while Myranda stood confused.

"Just one moment! I will not stand for this!"
came a gruff voice from the door, shattering the solemn
environment. He, too, spoke the strange language.

Barging into the hut was a dwarf. He wore a
look of anger on his bearded face. Every inch of him seemed to be
covered in a thin layer of dirt, as though he had spent the day
rolling around on the ground. His clothes were brown, though a few
shades darker than the tailor had intended, and he was brandishing
staff that appeared to be nothing more than a tree root with an
unrefined crystal tangled at one end. Myn quickly positioned
herself between the intruder and Myranda as the dwarf launched into
a rant.

"I will not let this stand! Ayna has just
come to me grinning that infuriating grin and twittering about this
new student of hers, and how after Solomon finishes with her, she
will see what real magic is. I had heard of no newcomers, and my
underlings had seen neither hide nor hair either. So, I ask you,
why would two of our Masters be anticipating a student that had not
had even the most rudimentary of earth training? Because I am being
passed over!

"None of you have ever given Earth magic the
respect it deserves, and now you have gone to ridiculous lengths to
hide the new students from me for the duration of their training.
And
what
is
she
doing
traipsing
about
with
Deacon?
He is
not even a part of the curriculum!" he raged, all without Myranda
understanding a word.

As Deacon began describing the situation to
the angry wizard, the other people in the room began gathering up
their things and slowly filing out. Myn was growing increasingly
upset and sticking close to Myranda. Ayna flitted into the hut and
joined the argument in her melodic language. Her words, whatever
they may have been, seemed to compound the dwarf's agitation.

Throughout the outpouring of anger, Deacon
continued to do his best to mediate, speaking the language of the
Elder. The majestic woman merely sat, calmly surveying the fray.
Solomon stalked into the hut to add a final voice to the heated
debate. Myranda found herself lost in an angry symphony of
different languages. Deacon's expression was one of helpless
concern as his words grew more desperate in tone. Finally, he
stepped away from the other three, who had been essentially
ignoring him since the beginning. Approaching Myranda, he struggled
to make himself heard over the din.

"I think you and I had best take our leave,"
he said, Myn too concerned with the bellowing of the others to
object to his presence.

"You'll get no arguments from me!" she
replied.

The trio walked briskly out the door, with
Myn nearly crashing into the doorway rather than take her eyes off
of the fray long enough to see where she was going. Once outside
the door, she wedged herself between Myranda and Deacon once more
and spread her attentions between him and the noisy hut. When they
were just barely midway to the end of the courtyard, Myranda
stopped and attempted to question the odd spectacle that they had
just witnessed.

"Oh, no. Not here. We will discuss it at the
edge of the courtyard," he said, hurrying her along.

"Why so far?" she asked as Deacon urged her
to a near sprint.

"Located within that hut are four of the
finest wizards to have ever lived. When tempers run high, magic
users tend to punctuate their sentences with spells," he said.

"Is it dangerous at--" she began, cut off by
sudden and intense shift in the earth beneath her feet, nearly
throwing her to the ground.

The trio stumbled to the edge of the
courtyard. When they had first approached the open area at the
center of the village, Myranda had noticed the succession of short,
thick, stone walls that ringed the yard. At the time she found them
curious, but now the purpose was clear. The trio took shelter
behind one as the shaking earth grew more violent. It was quickly
joined by a vicious tearing wind that might have lifted Myn from
the ground had she not dug her claws into the earth.

Myranda peeked her head over the wall to see
what was happening to the hut. The supports for the walls were
creaking and giving way. Shingles from the roof were torn free by
the wind and swirled about without touching the ground. They were
soon joined by whole sections of wall. Before long, the whole of
the hut had been reduced to splinters and was whirling about in the
air. At the center of the maelstrom, just barely visible through
the thrashing debris, were the wizards.

The dwarf was waving his staff about, causing
pillars of stone to burst from the ground like fangs. Solomon had
taken to the air, the savage wind more than enough to keep him
aloft without the need to flap his wings. As he struggled to remain
relatively stationary and dodge the flying shards of wood, he
seemed to be spraying flames at an indistinct and fleeting target
that could only be Ayna. The flames twisted and turned unnaturally
in the wind, following their target like a serpent. The Elder was
still seated in her chair, utterly unaffected by the chaos
surrounding her. Though the ground was heaving like an angry ocean,
she remained motionless, and the gales of wind failed to cause the
slightest flutter in her clothing.

Slowly, she rose from her seat. She raised a
hand and instantly order was restored. The wind ceased, causing a
rain of debris. The waves of earth froze in place, reducing the
once-flat yard to a cluster of rolling hills. Solomon dropped to
the ground.

The Elder spoke. After a few sentences, the
other wizards departed; Solomon approached Myranda and the others,
while Ayna and the dwarf returned to their respective places of
study. As the dragon traversed the courtyard, the hills and stone
spires receded into the ground. The scattered debris rose silently
into the air and gathered again in the form of the destroyed hut.
The cracks and breaks took on a bright glow before rejoining into
the walls and posts that they had been minutes before. In seconds,
it was as though nothing had occurred. The hut was whole and solid,
the courtyard was pristine and undisturbed, and the men and women
were returning with their books.

#

The speed at which the madness in the Elder's
hut began and ended seemed to come as a surprise to Myranda alone.
Solomon, none the worse for the experience, stood before them as
though nothing had happened at all. As he did so, Myn stretched and
strained her neck to gain a better sniff at the creature that
seemed so familiar. She refused to give up her faithful position at
Myranda's side, but was more than eager to learn more about the
gray dragon. Solomon obliged her by stepping near enough for the
young dragon to inspect him more thoroughly. For a moment, Myn's
curiosity overcame her over protectiveness, as she did not treat
this new creature as a threat.

"How did it go?" Deacon asked.

"Reasonably well. Myranda will still be
allowed to come under my instruction, provided that each of the
others has the same opportunity," he answered, choosing Myranda's
language for her benefit.

"Reasonably well!? What about the quaking
ground and the whirlwind? That was chaos," Myranda replied,
dumbfounded.

"No more so than our last debate," Solomon
said.

"This has happened before?" Myranda said,
mystified.

"It is not an altogether uncommon
occurrence," he answered.

"I would say that anytime Ayna and Cresh--he
would be the malignant dwarf who began the hostilities--get
together, the result is fairly similar to that little display. I
must say that you were more active than usual. What managed to
raise your ire?" Deacon asked.

"Ayna was particularly condescending on the
subject of those races best suited to magic. I decided to
illustrate my effectiveness," he said.

"Did it do any good?" Deacon asked slyly.

"I singed her a bit. The message ought to be
clear," Solomon said.

With that, the dragon turned his attention to
Myn. The pair of beasts engaged in a rather unique conversation.
There was much movement by each, but no sounds to speak of. Deacon
later explained that the language that dragons are born with is
generally exchanged in tones far too low for humans to hear, and
precious few of those. The bulk of the information was being
transmitted by the movements and postures each assumed. As Myn
became bolder, the two began to exchange contact, butting heads and
flicking a tongue here or there. Finally, the conversation ended
and Myn sat on her haunches, lashing a tail at Deacon, who had
apparently ventured a bit too close to Myranda.

"She is healthy enough. You have treated her
well. Bring her to me at sundown. The food that you humans eat is
less than appropriate for a dragon. Particularly a young one. I am
quite sure that she will appreciate the alternative that I have
found," Solomon said.

"If you like. I am not certain that she will
remain if I do not stay with her, though. It seems she only leaves
my side to hunt and to protect Leo," Myranda said.

"If you must remain, then you will. Starting
tonight, you are my pupil. You will do as I say," Solomon said.
Though his words were ominous, his tone was as steady as it had
ever been. He did not speak as a warning or a threat. It was merely
a statement of fact. When he had finished speaking, he
departed.

Myranda turned to Deacon.

"Tonight!?" she exclaimed.

"Solomon does not sleep in the same way that
you or I do. He tends to most of his affairs at sunrise and sunset,
with sleep coming during the day as often as night, or sometimes
not at all for a week," he said.

"But why so soon?" she asked.

"I suppose he has a special interest in you.
In very short order, the whole of the village will share that
interest. No one has been assigned directly to a Master since we
made the distinction between the different levels of expertise
centuries ago, and now you will be apprenticing to four!" he
said.

"I am not sure that I am ready," she
said.

"By rights, you should be years from ready.
That is of no concern of yours, though. Whatever difficulties you
may experience rest squarely upon the shoulders of Solomon now . .
. Are you all right?" Deacon said.

Myranda's head was reeling, and she appeared
unsteady.

"This is all moving so quickly," she said. "I
barely know where I am, and now I am going to be a student to a
Master wizard. People are fighting over me. I just . . ."