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The right of Sean McKeown to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of these documents may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying, scanning and recording, for any purpose, without the express written consent of Sean McKeown.
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Wrapped safely within a womb of light, Gwendolyn nursed her wounded
companion, having recklessly cast the Wrath of God about the hillock to
destroy the goblin raiding party and their goblin wizard. While she
herself was unscathed from the battle, the only wear lying within rather
than without, her companion Trent had suffered a vicious wound from a
Goblin sword in addition to many bangs and bruises from earlier in the
fight, before magic had been invoked.
Although she knew her foes must be demolished by now, from the sheer
unabating force of the otherworldly deity, in her frustration she held
the shield of her own life-force in place around herself and her fallen
guide. The entirety of her concentration was upon healing Trent's
wounds and keeping him alive, so much so that she didn't even think to
close the planar junction and end the spell.
Trent's blood ran freely between her gloved fingers, a vivid red in
stark contrast to her simple robes and the fresh powder. Angrily she
tore them from her hand, preferring to be in direct contact with his
stony hide... she told herself it was because it would strengthen the
mana-link between her and him, thus adding to her healing powers; in
fact, the gloves were slippery with his blood and she could not stand
the helplessness she felt to heal him. His wound ran deep and true, she
found after pulling out the lodged sword-tip with a mix of Illusion and
her own prying fingers.
She sought out the space within her, emptying her mind and clearing the
mind-killing emotions that were running rampant, primal screams of fear
and guilt. Visualizing the contrast of a black triangle on a downy
white backdrop within her mind, she began to recite her way through the
healing spells.
"Klatu nishi fahrai. Pasha verata meha! Canahro yata nicktu," she
chanted. That which is within, harmonize. Strength from
without, come to me! In the balance there is life, the chant
exclaimed. More importantly, she saw the triangle change within her
mind.
Klatu nishi fahrai; That which is within, harmonize.
The lower side of the triangle began to fade, as her body prepared to
channel the Pure with a healing blast. The first triad was in place;
the spell could begin casting. Pasha verata meha; Strength
from without, come to me! The left edge grew in size, filling
with whiteness leaking in from the background. A torrent of the Pure,
called from the lands around her as well as from those under her
possession, channeled into her. The second triad also faded to white,
leaving only a hint of an outline where the break of black and white
was.
Quickly, the outline of the spell came to her mind; she did not need to
consult the grimoire bound in leather at her side. She chanted again in
the ancient tongue, "Canahro yata nicktu." The third triad of the spell
faded as her intuition channeled the mana into her companion; a slight
shadow remained upon the calm of her mind as a blinding white glow
settled around them both. The howling fury outside of the sphere cut
abruptly to an end, as the mana keeping the gateway between worlds was
deprived of mana.
Gwendolyn placed her hands upon the wound, probing the gash, directing
the healing stream to where it was most needed. Trent was cool to the
touch, although she didn't know whether that was normal for a troll or
not... with his stone-like flesh, it seemed a reasonable assumption.
His breathing was shallow, and though his wounds began to close at the
touch of the spell, vitality did not seem to return to him.
The spell ended, Trent's wounds closed and his bruises healed. Life,
however, was not returned to him. Without having to check with her
magic, she knew the foul blade must have poisoned him.
Her mind searched for another way to revitalize her companion; her
skills with the magics of Order were not yet even on the level of a
simple regeneration. She could bring into herself any form of mana, the
base of any of the magics; however, her ability to cast spells besides
Pure and Illusion were rudimentary. Worse, invoking magics of a
different strain might upset her gift with another form. Invoking
Order's magic, that of nature, was simple, and in fact she was best with
that rather than with Chaos or Corruption, which she all but refused to
touch. Order had little effect upon her skill with Illusion, and none
with Pure. Corruption tainted her ability to use the Pure, being the
diametric opposite of all that she had learned; Chaos, worse still,
disturbed her ability to cast spells with Pure and
Illusion.
Sedge troll, sedge troll, her mind repeated.
Gwendolyn came to her feet, pacing nervously. Abstractly, she noticed
that she was still projecting her life-force outwards in a duelist's
sphere, and undid the spell that created and held the shield fast.
With a blink of the eye, the outside world returned... an unnatural
stillness surrounded her, all signs of their battle (indeed, all signs
of life at all, she realized) gone without a trace. Once again, snow
fell onto her face, and the afternoon sunlight warmed her spirit in the
chilly air.
Insight came to her, as she realized that she sat among the scrublands.
She had forgotten. Trent's very own nature would be the key to
returning him to life. While she could not yet cast a spell of
regeneration with the power of Order, Trent already possessed that
ability. Thinking no further, she called upon the lands around her
while focusing upon her friend.
Gwendolyn again put her hands over Trent's stocky chest, tunneling
deeply inside of him with her gift, seeking for the trigger within him
placed there by the wizards of old. She found it, within his mind, and
divined the memory of how to use his natural talent for
self-preservation. Inside of her mind, a green dot came into focus
against a background as dark as the abyss. She channeled mana from the
scrubs around her, planting the power of Corruption deep within him,
blotting out the dot and beginning his regeneration.
The spell made her physically ill, waves of nausea sending her head
spinning as the mana of Corruption sped through her. Gwendolyn forced
herself to endure, keeping a firm grasp of the need to continue, to save
him... if not for his own sake, then for hers. And, for Elric's... the
quest must continue.
Her thought lapsed, a mental shudder of revulsion at what she was doing
subdued by the ecstasy that only love can bring to one's mind. Still,
the tension within her head was growing, as her native magic tried to
purge the taint. In the spaces between thought, the spell was
triggered, and Trent's life returned once again to his rugged body.
Finally, having healed her companion as best she could, she passed out
on top of him from the pain of her gift. Both slept a shallow, restless
sleep well past nightfall.
Gwendolyn's last conscious thoughts had once again turned to Elric, her
lifelong love. Her subconscious stirred deep within her mind as she lay
sprawled across Trent in the bitter cold. Memories of past scenes, as
well as the intensity of past passions and desires, welled up into her
dreams... replaying the blissful times, without the sting of the
bitterness that has since shaped her life.
The sunlight streamed into Gwendolyn's eyes through the rustic
windowsill, waking her as a gentle breeze passed through her chambers.
In the soft light she could see out the window to the city below the
Keep where she trained in the arts of mana-use, the
shopkeepers just beginning their morning bustle. She rose to the
window, feeling pleasantly the soft caress of sunlight as well as the
soft buzz of the Pure. She had finally made the true connection to the
plains, giving her skill the fluidity of a natural gift, under the
tutelage of her master, Riback, master of Illusion. Tanishe was a small
town, by Tolarian standards anyway, but the ancient Keep of the
Illusionists was at its center, a rare prestige.
Gwendolyn smiled inwardly, feeling happier than she had before
throughout her long studies at the Keep. Yesterday had been the best
day of her life, having been given the Gift at last, her studies proving
her worthy to wear the robes of an adept. But that was not all; she and
Elric had shared that bond. Riback guided her hand and mind through the
rites, but it was Elric who had sat beside her as she lay within the
Circle, easing her mind, being her strength in her time of trial.
She took a deep breath of the morning air, and remembered the touch of
his hand upon hers, pressing but gentle, comforting. The buzz of the
Pure was ecstasy after her struggles to gain mastery for her own sake,
but it did not compare to the love that was in her heart, a love that
she was sure he must share for her. Stepping back from the window, she
shucked off the Initiate's robes she had slept in, for the last time.
In her closet she found her Adept's robe, as Riback had promised.
It was beautiful in its simplicity, a creamy white garment of soft
fabric. The rich pau of spellmasters felt soft yet
firm under her fingers, edged with threading the color of white gold,
forming symbols of the white mana around the neck and arms. The robe
was fitting of a master, its fine cut and regal cloth the finest
available without being garish or ostentatious. And it was hers, now
and forevermore.
Gwendolyn dressed, and went down to the common room to break the fast.
She entered the chambers after winding her way around the palace, and it
was mostly empty, only a few servants and initiates up at this early
hour. Elric was there, waiting for her in a back corner, as he always
was. She helped herself to the buffet of sweetmeats and exotic breads,
and a pitcher of citron juice. A bowlful of berries completed the meal,
and she headed towards their table.
On the way, she smiled at the only other adept there, old Mistress
Prava. Prava had been like a mother to her these last years, reminding
her of the benefits of hard study, but never without a kind smile.
"Good morning, Mistress Prava," Gwendolyn said, a smile lighting her
face.
"Oh, congratulations at last, my dear Gwendolyn! Or is it Mistress
Windsmore, now?" Prava said, her face the equal of Gwendolyn's in its
happiness.
"I will always be your Gwendolyn, Prava, no matter what robes I may
wear."
"You walk the ways of the Pure, as do I, child. A thousand blessings!"
Prava said, a tear coming to her eyes. Gwendolyn hugged her old mentor
fiercely, sharing her own happiness, now that she had come 'of age'.
"Thank you, Mistress Prava. For everything," Gwendolyn whispered into
her mentor's ear.
Prava wiped her eyes with a finger, a cherubic smile gracing her face
once again. "It was always you, my dear... never believe otherwise."
With a nod, Prava released Gwendolyn's hand, taking her seat again.
Gwen sat down across from Elric, admiring the half-elf in his powdery
blue Initiate's robes. The best time in my life are just
beginning, she thought, as she shared his secret seductive
smile. He was a juxtaposition of two worlds, half-Elf and half-Man, a
skinny young wizard-in-training, almost out of place in his
Illusionist's robes. He had spurned his Elvish heritage and natural
talent when he came here, only months after she herself arrived,
neglecting the magic of Order, taking up its opposite, Illusion,
instead.
She saw it in his eyes, just sitting across from him. It shocked her,
that she had never really known before. It was so obvious now! They
had studied together since youth, before she had decided to focus more
upon her talents of healing and the way of the Pure. They had been
together much of their life, one way or another; all the Initiates knew
each other well, as there were no more than two dozen studying under
Riback, even fewer with the deeper works of the divisions.
He broke the silence first. "How do you feel, Gwendolyn, my dear?
Have you recovered from the ritual?" he asked, concern in his eyes
belying the smile upon his face.
"It's like being alive for the very first time... I don't know quite
how to explain it," Gwendolyn answered. "But I feel fine, my love."
Well, she had said it. It's not as if both didn't know, after sharing
minds during the ritual. Her cheeks flushed, although not with
embarrassment. Gwendolyn broke her stare from his deep, almost black
eyes, paying more attention to her food.
"I am pleased to hear that... my love." A sullen smile crossed his
face, perhaps a remembrance of a past love. Gwendolyn had never felt
closer to someone in her life, as nearly as she could remember. They
had shared minds, shared secrets. He loved her, had loved her for a
while now; and she had come to love him too.
He put his hand atop hers, as he had the day before. Gwendolyn kept
eating, marveling at his fair Elvish features, but more so upon what
they now shared. Suddenly, the food in her mouth was bitter and sour,
making her shudder at the taste of it. She turned away from him, and
spat it onto her plate, nearly gagging.
The sweetmeats. How could she forget? She was an adept of the Pure
now, in contact and balance with the mana of the plains. By her very
nature, she would reject such food.
"Are you all right?" he asked, leaning over to rub her back as she
coughed.
She looked up at him, her eyes tearing. "Yes... I just... forgot. The
sweetmeats, I can't eat them anymore. It's my first day, you know...
there are bound to be some mistakes."
His eyes shone with laughter, although he was polite enough not to
laugh. "I'm sure I'll do the same, when my time comes. It's not easy
to change your life in one day."
"Not easy," she agreed. But it happened anyway, she
thought to herself. Completely.
The fever-dream continued, skipping forward in her life by days and
weeks as the taint ran through her body. Once again, it settled in
time, but on a darker day.
Gwendolyn woke with the coming dawn, consciousness blossoming like a
fresh flower to the darkened room about her. She heard his breath, and
knew that he was still there, sleeping beside her. She snuggled close
to him, wrapping her arms around his chest, staring at his face,
blissful in sleep. Today was his day, and she would share it with him,
be the one to turn his life onto a new course. As he was for her, so
she would be for him.
Master Riback and Elric had had a bit of a falling-out. Supposedly,
Elric wished to dabble in the magic of Corruption, although his master
had strictly forbidden it of all his students. In fact, Riback wanted
to see her at first light, to talk about Elric. Her love.
She lay there beside him for almost an hour, naked against his bare
flesh. When at last the sun broke over the drawn window, she slipped
away from him quietly, to meet Master Riback for breakfast.
The Master had called her to his personal chambers, and while not
unheard of, it was definitely unusual. She slipped her robes on,
throwing a quick wrap around her undone braids, and coursed her way
towards the center of the Keep. The Keep was not awake yet; as a day of
Testing, the usual work was pushed off until tomorrow, except for
preparing the Testing and Bonding. By torchlight, she passed under the
massive granite slabs supporting the upper Keep and the spiraling Tower.
Gwendolyn slid the vaulted doors apart enough to slip through, and
strode across the antechamber. Her eyes dazzled at the magical trinkets
and artifacts that were crammed in every nook and cranny of the
otherwise opulently furnished room, evidence of a long and fruitful
career wielding the mana. Like many wizards, she noticed, his workspace
was terribly messy...
Master Riback came out to greet her, his wizened face belying his
incurable kindness. "Thank you for coming, Gwendolyn... I think it's
about time we discussed Elric, before it may be too late to choose the
wisest course," he said, twisting his small frame to look her in the
face. "But come, let us break fast together. There is much to talk
about!"
Riback turned, a graceful twist akin to a dancer's fluid movements.
His control over his body is splendid, Gwendolyn noted, the result of a
subtle mastery of both his body and his appearance. In the next room
was a table piled high with cereals, fruits, and nuts, acceptable to
both their sensitized palates. Gwendolyn let the small man lead her
inside, and sat next to him at the table.
Straightening her robes, Gwendolyn took a ripe apple from a garish pile
of exotic fruits and delicacies. Biting deeply, she savored its ripe
juices, out of season now in the southern isles of Tolaria.
Her master did likewise, the skinny wizard reaching for a plump melon.
"I am most troubles by Elric's desires, and his request. Has he told
you that he asked me to allow him to study the magic of Corruption here
at the Illusionist's Keep?"
Gwendolyn was shocked. While Corruption was not inherently evil, in
and of itself, the seductive power and pleasures it offered its adepts
quickly led down dark paths.
"I had no idea he might wish such a thing, Master Riback, except to
further his knowledge of his art. Illusion is, by its nature, aligned
with that of Corruption. In fact, that is why I could not focus myself
upon its disciplines, and chose to learn the ways of the Pure instead.
As I told you, all those years ago."
"Yes, I remember it well..." Riback said, a wisp of sadness crossing
his face. "I remember you pleading me not to force you away from the
path of purity quite well. But Elric wishes to study it with more than
just a natural curiosity. In fact, he had asked me if he could align
himself with its ways with my permission."
Gwendolyn finished her apple, and folded her hands to continue the
discussion. "You forbade it, I assume?"
"Of course. I know the way that magic can possess a man's very soul, I
could not allow it in good conscience. But he has persisted; I am
certain that he has been exploring the Arcanum for simple spells."
"He's been a bit restless, recently..." Gwendolyn said. "I thought it
was just unease at the ritual, knowing what it would be like. Do you
think he might be learning Corrupt spellcasting?"
"I fear the worst, child."
Gwendolyn couldn't believe it. Her quiet, gentle Elric half-Elven
couldn't be tempted to stray from the noble path; there was no sign that
he was being driven towards the paths of Darkness. Who would know him
better than herself? She was his closest friend, his comfort in the
coming trials.
"I just... can't see it, Master Ribeck. He's nothing like that, really he isn't."
Ribeck took another melon, the empty rinds of the first lying discarded
to his side. With a gooey spoon and juice trickling down his sage's
beard, Gwendolyn couldn't help but see him in an almost comic light.
Almost as she first saw him, as a small child... warm and cuddly despite
his scowling face. "I can hardly believe it myself. But today, during
the ritual, you two will be bonded. Can you do me one simple favor?"
"If it is within my powers, Master Ribeck, you know I will do anything you ask."
"If you do learn that he is turning towards Corruption, will you tell
me?? You will be betraying little, and I am sure you know just how
important it is that I know this."
Gwendolyn had to consider. Elric was entrusting all his secrets to
her, through the Ritual, and she knew just how hard that was. As an
adept of the Pure, betrayal of such a sacred trust was against her
nature. But Ribeck was right; the matter was of great importance, for
everyone.
"I will, if it is reasonable, Master Ribeck. You know that."
Ribeck took an exotic peach, and started eating once again. "Thank
you, my dear. Let us hope for the best."
The pair ate in silence, until at last Ribeck reminded her of her
duties for the day. "Shouldn't you be running off, to prepare for the
Ritual, child? Go, don't let me darken your spirits any further," he
said, dismissing her to do as she saw fit. With a nod, Gwendolyn left
his chambers, to begin her meditations in the Star Chamber.
After hours spent in silently meditating in the darkened chamber,
focusing her spirit and her gift, Ribeck and Elric joined her in the
lower promenade. Gwendolyn could hear the others above her, filing in
to the observation platforms at last, the adepts, initiates, and
teachers there to bear witness to Elric's bonding to the magic of
Illusion. Ribeck took to the inner circle of the Star Chamber, and
Gwendolyn stood next to Elric, behind their master. She took his hand
in hers, squeezing it gently to reassure him that he was not alone in
his trial.
Ribeck spoke to the crowd, his voice booming about the darkened
chambers through a spell of far-speaking. "Today, we come to bear
witness to the advancement of Elric half-Elven, initiate of Illusion
here at the Keep of the Illusionists for twelve years. He has chosen to
pursue the magic of Illusion as an adept, and so he shall be bonded to
the mana."
"If there is anyone who would challenge his right to advancement, let
them speak now," he challenged the crowd. The watchers above were
silent, there was none who saw fit to challenge Elric in his chosen
path.
"Gwendolyn Windsmore, Adept of the Pure for five months, Initiate of
Pure for six years here at the Keep of the Illusionists, Initiate of
Illusion for six years prior here at the Keep of the Illusionists, has
chosen to bear the role of guide throughout the Testing and Bonding.
Adept Windsmore, are you ready in your appointed task?"
Gwendolyn called upon the stillness of heart from her meditations, and
felt the mana shimmering before her eyes. "I am," she called out,
Ribeck's spell sending her voice out to all above. She released the
spell she had been building, illuminating the Star Chamber at last in a
haze of mana. The circles were inscribed anew around them, shining with
a hidden fire, a spell drawn in the very floor of the room. The vaulted
globe above them was covered with an opalescent glow, the iridescent
light filling the chambers. Gwendolyn reached deeper inside herself,
gripping the calm and making it her own. She would need to share that
with Elric, to keep his mind from cracking under the strain.
"Initiate Elric half-Elven, are you prepared for the trials we have set out for you?"
Elric nodded, and squeezed Gwendolyn's hand in return. "I am," he
said, for all to hear.
"Then let it be done," Ribeck announced, his arms outstretched to the
watchers above, his fine silken robes fluttering in the wind of his own
spells.
"Let it be done," was the chant from above. "Let it be done."
Gwendolyn hugged Elric one last time before the trial. "Let it be
done," she whispered to him.
Ribeck's spell summoned an ornate table and two chairs into the center
of the embedded spells. Hand in hand, Elric and Gwendolyn came to the
table. Ribeck helped Elric lie atop the table, Elric staring directly
into the sheen of the ceiling above. Gwendolyn took the chair at his
side, putting her hand on his arm as he lay there. Ribeck took the seat
at the head of the table, and without incantation he initiated the spell
of testing.
The world faded from Gwendolyn's eyes, as she and Ribeck entered
Elric's mind. Time mattered not. Ribeck was merely the channeler of
the spell now, his actions were no longer his own but those dominated by
ancient traditions and knowledge. While Ribeck poked and prodded
Elric's mind, conjuring nightmare images and casting his emotions into
disarray, Gwendolyn penetrated her lover's mind with her
all-encompassing calm, sheltering the essence of his mind with her own.
The test continued, and she was dominated by the spell as well as by
her own determination. From her position inside of his thoughts, she
could only see blinking images of what was going on around her, jumbled
thoughts and memories being pulled out from deeper inside of Elric's
mind. The scent of pine barrens in the springtime air, mixed with the
chant of sylvan folk from high atop the trees. A deep sense of
rejection, stemming from his mixed blood: alienation at being of two
peoples, but belonging to neither one. For an instant, his memory of a
bitter parting, as he rejected all he knew to join the Keep.
Gwendolyn followed that further, digging within to see how he had come
to join them. She saw an ancient Elven face, and knew the name from the
stir of his memories... his first teacher, Llanias, showing him how to
handle the mana of the forests, how to channel the magic of Order. He
was a natural at it... Gwendolyn dug still deeper, to see why he
rejected himself and the ways of his chosen people.
It hit her like a canker as he tried to withhold that part of himself
from her. He was struggling against her, but the spell joined them
inexorably; she almost lost control of her inner peace, seeing him
struggling there, but she had to know. For everyone's sake, if not
because Ribeck had asked her to. So she could help turn him from this
bitterness.
Gwendolyn's essence melted with Elric's own, and while he held part of
himself away from Master Ribeck, she knew. It almost took her breath
away, how he resented his past... seeking to become the opposite of all
that he was born as. The mana of Corruption brooded deeply within him,
slowly twisting him to its inherent ways.
Likewise, the mana of Corruption surged through her sleeping mind, the pain of its rejection by her own gift overshadowing the memory.
As Elric embraced the darkness within himself in her dreams, choosing
to be an adept of the Corrupt, she woke at last in a cold sweat.
Sean McKeown
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