The Elemental Jewels (Book 1) (32 page)

The pelting items flying at the trapped group began to increase, as the menacing mob closed and stopped just beyond the reach of the swords, taunting and swearing.

“Give us the murderer, and the rest of you can go,” several men demanded.

Grange was holding one hand up to try to shield himself from the most damaging missiles that were flying at him, while he held the sword in his other.  There was a sudden rush, as the mob closed in from all sides simultaneously.  Grange sliced his sword back and forth, trying to injure and frighten the attackers without offering serious injury.  A walking stick was thrown up to block his sword, then multiple pairs of hands grabbed him and pulled him downward.

A bright flash of light made all the participants in the tableau freeze in place.

Help her
, the jewels said.

Grange looked around and saw that Grace stood with her wand pointed straight up in the air, held tightly in both hands.  He could see that energy was flowing into her, just as he had seen energy flowing into the Flame of Focus in the morning.

From her wand’s tip, a tenuous dome emerged, one that spread outward before falling towards the ground, offering a thin means of protection from the angry mob.

Help her
, the jewels repeated.

“How?” Grange asked.

Give her energy
, they answered promptly, urgently. 
Find the energy, pull it in, give it to her.

“How?” he repeated.

Close your eyes and think about the energy you saw this morning.  Put your hand on her, and let the energy flow through you into her.  Think about this morning.  Remember seeing the energy that is everywhere.  Remember the Flame pulling the energy – the Flame was pure and simple.  Let your mind and heart be pure and simple, and ask the energy to come
.  The message was delivered as a concept that was implanted in his soul.

Grange followed the directions, closing his eyes and thinking about the energy that he realized was all around, about how the bright, pure light of the Flame had attracted it.  He imagined the Flame was within him, and felt the energy around him start to slowly coalesce.  Everything else around him fell away; the world seemed to be silent.  He reached out with his hand and groped for Grace, then felt his hand touch her, at the boundary where her blouse neckline opened up, part of his hand on the cloth, while his fingertips touched her warm flesh.

He let the power flow, encouraged it to come into him, and to travel through him to her.

“Stronger,” he heard Grace breathe the word softly.  “This is good; I feel stronger.”

Grange opened his eyes and looked.  Grace’s protective shield had grown larger, pressing the mob away from the trapped group in the center.  The shield had grown brighter and stronger too.

The people around them were fleeing, running from the demonstration of unearthly powers, afraid of what was to come next.

Grace was looking upward, watching the wand spew forth the energy that transformed into the dome.  She looked down, as Grange looked up, and their eyes locked.  Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and her glance was a glassy stare.  Her left hand moved in slow motion, leaving the grip in the wand overhead and floating down.  It came to rest atop his hand, the hand that was cupped upon her breast.  Her fingers intertwined with his and lifted his hand away from its position, while maintaining the linkage that transmitted the energy between them.

The dome was glowing still.

Well done
, the jewels told him. 
The job is done.  You can release the energy
.

Grange broke the mutual stare with Grace and looked around.  The mob was gone; as the dome had grown brighter, stronger, larger, they had fled.

Grange closed his eyes, and ceased to focus on the image of the Flame within him; he cut off the flow of power, and ceased to send it to Grace.

She felt his efforts cease, and she released his hand.  The dome around them dissolved into nothingness, and the sounds of the world suddenly descended upon Grange’s ears once again.  There were shouts and noises all around, the sounds of a mob dispersing.  The tendrils of energy that he had seen seeping through the air were no longer visible, as he returned to the status of an ordinary person.

Grace poked his shoulder sharply with the end of her wand.  “Don’t you put your hand there again unless I tell you to,” she hissed.

“My eyes were closed!  I didn’t know,” Grange protested.

“Extraordinary!” the prince exclaimed.  “I didn’t realize we had Brieed’s accomplished apprentices here with us.  You do belong to Brieed, don’t you?” he asked. 

The prince was a man in his late twenties or more, Grange guessed his age.  He was dark-haired and had the same dark tan complexion that so many of the residents of Palmland had, Grange noted.

“Your highness, may we return to the palace now, while the hostilities are in remission?” Brielle asked.

“We should go, Grael,” agreed the man whose accident with the neighborhood children had sparked the tumult in the first place.  “And then send the palace guard back here to burn the neighborhood down,” he added spitefully.

“You!” Grange was outraged.  “You killed the children of these people.  Of course they’re mad at you!  None of us would have been in danger if we would have just turned you over to them for justice the way they think it should be,” he stormed.  He remembered too well the way the poor and the working people of Fortune had been abused and neglected by the nobility, and he vented his memories against the irresponsible man.

“Grange!” Grace reprimanded him for speaking out.

“What’s he say, Maurin?” the prince asked his friend.

“Just a minor thing, a misunderstanding, my lord,” the nobleman said, as he stared venomously at Grange.

“The locals say that he was drunk and rode his horse through the neighborhood, killing some children along the way,” Grange repeated what Guy had told him.

“Your highness?” Brielle urged.  “You should go to safety, and discuss this later,” she tried to prompt the prince to go.

“I’ll want to hear more from you,” the prince put his finger on Grange’s shoulder, then he let Brielle and another guard lead him away.

“If he hears any more from you, I’ll have your tongue cut out!” Maurin snarled at Grange, as he began to follow the other guards away as well.

“Look what you’ve done!” Grace said as soon as the others were gone, leaving the two wizard apprentices alone in the center of the dance floor, with a few figures standing in the darkness around them.  “You’ll get in trouble with the nobles.”

“I just told the truth,” Grange said.  “At least, it’s what’s been told to me.  And he didn’t deny it,” he added.

He turned away from the girl and walked back over to the stage.  Miraculously, his flute was undisturbed.  He picked it up and blew a few notes into it to test it; the resulting sounds were as pure and enjoyable as always.

“And I didn’t get to sing, either,” Grace complained as she followed him to the stage.

“Here, I’ll play for you and you can sing right now,” Grange countered her complaint.

“Alright,” she disbelieved him, and chose to call his bluff.

Grange scowled, then reflected a moment, and decided to play one of the songs the band had played earlier, one that had a quick rhythm that would be difficult to sing to.  He only played the first three bars before Grace slugged him in the ribs.

“Play one of the songs you played last night,” she ordered.  “Something I can sing to.”

Defeated, and suddenly feeling anxious to head back home to the palace, Grange complied, starting one of the ballads that she had sung the night before.

He sat on the edge of the stage while he played, his legs stretched out in front of him, and after just a moment, Grace sat down too as she continued to sing.  The use of the energy, allowing it to collect and run through him, seemed to have taken a toll on him; sitting down felt good, and apparently Grace felt the same way.

They finished the song, then started a second one, a livelier dance tune.  As they did, a few young couples came out of the shadows and started dancing again.  Grange began to feel better, more energized as the song progressed, and he stood up before the end of the tune, as did Grace.

“We have to perform another one,” Grace said.  “We can’t let folks have just one dance.”

So they ended up performing three more songs – two quick dance steps, then a slower ballad to end their unexpected performance.

“Who knew that a pair of magic-makers could do something as useful as playing the pipe and singing?” one older lady cackled as she hobbled past they two.  “Thank you,” she added, then was gone.

Grange and Grace had nothing to carry away from the scene of the music and attack, other than Grange’s sword and flute, so they strolled together through the darkened streets of the city.

“How did you do that, anyway?  How did you capture the energy and share it with me so easily?” she asked after they walked in silence for the first dark block.  “I didn’t hear you utter a spell or put on an amulet, or anything.”

“I just thought about it and made it happen,” he replied, sure that any answer he gave was likely to either get him into trouble, or spur further questions.  But he knew he couldn’t simply reveal the truth, that his arm was occupied by elemental spirits in the guise of embedded jewels.

“I hope that’s not true,” Grace said slowly.  “Master Brieed says there are only a few men and women who can do that, and we don’t need to have another sorcerer running around the world, especially here in Palmland.”

“What’s a sorcerer?” Grange asked.

“Do you not know anything?” Grace asked in exasperation.

“Not about sorcerers,” he replied in a tone that was only slightly less waspish than hers.  “I’ve only been here two days.”

“We’re studying to be wizards,” Grace began in a didactic tone.  “We are learning spells and amulets and lotions and positions that allow us to call upon the greater powers of the world.  It requires years of complex training,” she paused to let that sink in.

“Sorcerers are born with the ability to call upon the powers.  They don’t need spells.   They just,” she paused, “seize the power – they force it to obey.

“We’re wizards.  We have to be gentle.  We have to trick the energy into serving us.  It’s like we’re tricking it into thinking we’re sorcerers,” she spoke fervently.

“But I wouldn’t want to be a sorceress,” she said.

“Why not?” Grange asked, curious.  Her explanation was more than he had ever even thought to ask about.

“They suffer for being different.  They can’t have children – it’s like the gods do not want them to pass their ability along.  And they lose their souls; none of them live long before the demons come and take them to the underworld.  No,” she shuddered, “I wouldn’t want to be that way.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Grange agreed.  He felt disturbed, anxious.  Grace’s comments were frightening, as he considered how easily the jewels had given him the ability to see the power and to control it.

They walked in silence through the streets after that, and returned to the palace grounds, then to the wizard’s section, where Grace opened the door.

“Thank you for letting me sing,” she told him.  “The rest of the evening I maybe could have done without,” she gave a wry smile, then entered her rooms and closed the door behind herself.

Chapter 17

“Are you turning me into a sorcerer?  Are the demons going to come and drag me to the underworld?” he asked the jewels as soon as he entered the privacy of his own room.

He began to undress, to grow more comfortable.

No, we will not leave you to the demons
, the jewels said emphatically. 
You will retain your soul.  We will guide you in the use of the power, and through the deep test that all others have failed.

You are the one who will kill the demons, not fall to them
, the jewels reassured him.

“I hope you are right,” Grange said.  “But will I be like the sorcerers, able to find the power, to use it without the tools the wizards use?”

We will make it as easy as possible for you, but we cannot tell what you will accomplish.  Only time will tell,
the jewels answered.

Grange was not satisfied with the answer, but he sensed that the jewels had no more to tell.  He lay in his bed, thinking about demons and dead children, unpleasant topics that caused nightmares when he finally fell asleep.

Grace woke him the next morning, and they carried out their chores with only minimal comments to one another, then went to breakfast.  Grange sat with Appal and Jom, the acolytes once again, until Brieed beckoned him over to the wizard’s table.

“Are you ready to begin training?” Brieed asked.

“Yes sir,” Grange replied.

“Eli, take Grange to the library, and start working on learning how to recite the incantations for moving objects,” Brieed ordered the senior apprentice.  “Work until midday, then let him go to pursue his other activities.”

Eli wordlessly rose from the table and beckoned for Grange to follow.  Down the hall they turned into a side hall, then entered a room that had a wide and high single window taking up much of the narrow wall.  A narrow table took up much of the floor space, and tall book shelves lined both of the interior walls.

“See that candle holder?” Eli asked as they stood in the doorway, observing the room.

He pulled his wand from a hidden pocket on his hip, then pointed it at the candlestick.

“
Trwy ras yr holl bwerau, yn symud i mi, cannwyll,” he spoke softly, his eyes closed.

Grange looked at Eli, then looked at the wand, and looked at the candleholder.  The latter began to tremble, then slid across the top of the table slowly, and launched itself into the air, it dipped slightly as it left the table, then wafted gently through the air, over to Eli’s outstretched hand.

“That is what you are going to learn,” Eli said as he handed the metal dish to Grange.  “It will take time to learn the system of incantations, but the displacement of objects is one of the simplest abilities of wizards.”

Eli looked up at the shelves of books, then pointed his wand upwards, closed his eyes, and mumbled, “trwy ras yr holl wybodaeth, os gwelwch yn dda yn dod i mi, sgrolio.”

A pale tan scroll bumped up and down, then descended in an arc through the air, and settled in Eli’s hand.

“Here, read this,” he handed it to Grange.

“That’s all for today,” he said, then turned and left the room, as Grange stood with the scroll in one hand and the candleholder in the other.

Annoyed by the senior apprentice’s lack of assistance or advice, Grange set the candle down, then settled into a chair, and untied the leather lace around the scroll.  He opened the beginning, found that he was holding it upside down, and reversed it, then focused on the words that were written in a spidery, dark script across the middle of the scroll, with wide margins on both sides.

“The energy is all around, ready to serve, eager to serve.  It can be the answer to all problems, and meet all needs, if we take it as our partner and treat it as though it were our beloved, our spouse,”
Grange read.  He read the words slowly, both because the handwriting was ornate, and because he had learned to read, but seldom exercised the ability.

“You can work with the energy, if it believes that you will work for it.  You must please the energy, demonstrate your affection for it.  You must woo it to be your partner and assistant,”
the scroll continued.

“I don’t want a bloody girlfriend,” Grange muttered in annoyance.

Just read and learn.  We doubt that you’ll have to worry about having a girlfriend with an attitude like that anyway
, the jewels reprimanded him.

“Humm,” Grange grumbled, but he continued to read.

The text continued, as he slowly read down the scroll, turning the two metal rods to progress through the narrative.  The words continued to tell the same message in a variety of ways – the power was available, but could only be relied upon for assistance if treated with respect.

“To demonstrate your respect, you must speak in the language that the Old Ones spoke, the language that was first used to woo the energy in the days when the world was young, the language that was the only language in the time when all men and women could be partners with the power,”
it explained.  “
These are the words of the old language, the words that you must know,”
it said, then listed a long column of strange words.

“Os gwelwch yn dda, grace, ffrind, rydym yn ymbil, ffafr, caredigrwydd,”
the words stretched down the scroll.  “
These are the words that show the goodness of your heart to the energy, that demonstrate you will honor and respect the energy,”
the text continued to read, as Grange slowly progressed.

“How do I even pronounce those words?” Grange was nettled by the strange combinations of letters.

“Are you coming to lunch?” Grace asked from the door.

Grange jumped at the unexpected interruption.  He looked up and saw the angle of the sunlight coming in through the window – it had swung around a fair amount.  He had been in the room all morning working his way through a fraction of the scroll.

He looked at the scroll, trying to memorize where he had finished his reading, then twisted the rods to close the scroll, and left it on the table as he followed Grace out of the room.

“What did you do today?” he asked her.

“I worked on using the wooden amulets,” she replied.  “They take a lot of concentration.

“And did you do something wonderful again?  Learn how to lift buildings from their foundations, or how to water the deserts with the rivers?” she asked snidely as they entered the dining room, where servants were placing fruits and breads out to eat.

“I don’t really understand what I was reading,” he answered, and they separated to find their food.  Grange grabbed food he could eat as he walked, and he left to go to the armory.  He finished stuffing the last sweet bun into his mouth as he arrived at the armory, and saw Brielle in the far corner, practicing her staff work with another guard.  He decided to head to the weapons lockers to find the pads that he knew he would be expected to wear.

“He is stupid, and he’s heroic.  He’s stupidly heroic,” Brielle’s voice spoke from behind him.  He turned to see her standing ten yards away, speaking to a middle-aged man.

“He’s awfully pale,” the man commented.  “Doesn’t he have any blood in him?”

“I think he’s from Southgar, sir,” Brielle replied factually.

“I’m from Fortune,” Grange snapped.

“Are all people from Fortune as pale as you?” the man asked.  “I wasn’t aware.”

“No,” Grange admitted.  “They look a lot more like you people here, maybe not quite as dark.”

“So, you’re not really from Fortune then,” Brielle stated.  “But that is beside the point,” she quickly cut off further protest.

“This is my commanding officer, Captain Holmes,” she introduced.  “I wanted to let him meet one of the heroes the Prince is telling the whole palace about,” she explained.

“And who his friend Maurin is cursing,” she added.

“Where’s the other one, the pretty girl wizard the prince spoke so highly about?” Holmes asked.

“Where’s that pretty hero who has brains?” Brielle asked.

“I suppose she’s studying,” Grange said, trying to sound conversational, though starting to feel put-upon by the questions.

“I’m here to practice, if it’s okay,” he spoke up.

“By all means,” Holmes took the hint.  “Brielle has grown to be our best fighter – you’ve got a good coach.  Just be sure to make arrangements with her for the prince to meet his two wizard protectors very soon,” the officer said.  He nodded to each of the others, then turned and walked off.

“You two are going to have to be ready to be picked apart,” Brielle said conversationally.  She lifted two staffs and tossed one to Grange.  “Your friend will have to be ready to be wooed by the playboys of the court, and you will have to be ready to protect yourself from revenge from Maurin,” she told him, as she feigned an attack.

Grange didn’t fall for the trick, but kept his defenses ready, and blocked her real strike, though he couldn’t react quickly enough to launch a counterstrike.

“Maurin has persuaded the prince that there were no children killed, only hysterical parents in the ghettos,” Brielle told him.

“That’s not true, is it?” Grange asked.  He’d taken Guy’s word about the dead children as truth.

“You’d know better than I do,” Brielle answered.   “So when do you think you and the lady wizard can enter the lion’s den?  This afternoon?  Tonight?”

“I’ll ask her tonight, and let you know tomorrow,” Grange replied.

You better have her at court by tomorrow.  You know royalty – they expect their requests to be filled immediately,” Brielle told him.

They continued to practice without further conversation about the appearance before the prince.  By late afternoon, Grange was exhausted and sore.  “I’ll go back and let Grace know we should visit the prince tomorrow,” he promised.

“The prince wants to see me?” Grace asked scornfully, when Grange arrived back at the wizard’s hall, let in by Appal.  “Why are you making such a story up?”

“My trainer, Brielle, was one of the guards with the prince last night, and she just told me today,” Grange answered.

“Go tell the Master,” Grace said dismissively.  “He works for the king, doing what the king wants.  He’d know if there was a royal summons.”

Grange left the girl and went to knock on Brieed’s door.

Jom opened it and Grange saw the wizard sitting at a desk, studying a glowing glass globe.

“I need to speak to the wizard,” Grange explained.

“Come in, my boy,” Brieed spoke as he continued to look into the globe.

“What do you need?” he asked.

The servant opened the door wide to allow Grange to enter.  The wizard continued to stare into the strange glowing ball on his desk.

“Well?” Brieed asked as Grange stood hesitantly before him.

“The prince would like to meet Grace and I,” Grange said.  “Prince Grael, that is.”

Brieed looked up from his globe.  “Why would the prince want to see you?” he asked sharply.

“Last night there was a fight at the festival where I was playing music, and Grace was there,” Grange said.  “You told me to take her with me,” he reminded the wizard.

“The prince was there, and a mob was attacking him, but Grace made a dome of energy with her wand.  It protected the prince and the others around him,” Grange gave the simple version of his report.

“Grace does not have the ability to summon enough power to sustain such a dome,” Brieed said.  “Can you explain this?”

“I helped her,” Grange answered.

“You may leave,” Brieed dismissed his acolyte, and watched Jom leave the room.

“How did you help her?  Were the jewels involved?” he asked.

“Yes,” Grange admitted simply.

“Beth yr ydych yn ei wneud gydag ef gwirodydd o grisialau?” Brieed spoke hesitantly in a musical tongue.

“
Mae'n ein un ni i'w defnyddio. Mae'n eich un chi i hyfforddi. Rydym yn gobeithio y byddwch yn rhoi eich gorau un, ysgaw ef
,” the jewels responded aloud.

Brieed sat silently, and Grange could see that he was translating the words.

“
Beth fyddwch chi'n ei wneud ag ef? A yw ei fod mewn perygl?” Brieed asked, after he constructed the question he wished to ask.

“
Ef mewn perygl. Yr ydym mewn perygl. Mae'r holl fyd, pob bywyd, mewn perygl. Ymddiried ynom, ac yn ymddiried ynddo. Rydym yn paratoi iddo, a gallwch helpu i wneud iddo The Protector
,” the voices of the jewels answered, their voices arising from Grange’s forearm.

Brieed translated mentally again, then sighed.

“He is very young,” he spoke.

“He is who he is, born when he was born.  Mother Fate made that decision, not us,” the jewels said.

Brieed sat for long seconds with his eyes closed.  “So you and Grace saved the prince, and now he wants to thank you?  Then we must go to visit the prince.  Have you ever been to court?  No, of course not,” the tiny man’s conversation drifted into muttering with himself.