The Sword Sworn - 2. Chapter 1: Testing. Time to go!

Ah, Children of fire;
ice; stone and wind.
The Emperor is dead;
his heir is gone and we stand
here by the sea, upon the shores of
Haventing.
The children weep, the Kings seek his throne,
and the Mages of Ganentide are lost
without their King.
Alas ye fly away, to whence you came,
to mourn an Emperor fallen.
Yet still we weep, your children of
Haventine.

A bard's lament; written upon the shores of Haventine upon the loss of the last Emperor at the battle of Haventine, some 5000 years ago.

 

Upon the eastern shores of Haventine is a small city by the sea, controlled by the Mage Council of Ganentide. Ganentide proper was home to commoners, merchants, and nobles who all paid taxes to the Mage Council. Off the steep shores is a decent sized island that housed the Mage Council of Ganentide, and their many students. To reach the island one must cross a white bridge that lead to the doors of a tower. Behind this tower is a larger tower. The second appeared to be sturdy, if rather ancient. The problem was, no one could enter that tower, and no one in this day really knew why, so the Mages of Ganentide built a compound that joined the two towers.

In those mountains is a rather large volcano, not formed by nature, but rather by the arts of magic.

Ganentide Isle, Mage Complex, 5000 E.D.

Garrett was bored with Master Hammond's speech; after all, he'd heard it before on each of the previous tests he had taken... and failed. This time, however, he expected to pass the test, the test he and the other apprentices had to pass to show that they had learned to control their magic. He had been practicing, night and day, openly and secretly, since his fifteenth birthday. He was confident that this time he could control his powers.

Perhaps that was why Garrett was paying more attention to the small waves rippling in the large, deep pond that occupied the center of the large room in the tower.

"Garrett!" a deep voice snapped, snatching Garrett from his daydream.

Garrett's head shot up, cracking his neck in the process. Master Hammond's eyes, along with everyone else, were staring holes into him. Garrett felt himself blush as he attempted to stammer a reply to the question he had not heard.

Master Hammond shook his head, silencing Garrett mid-stutter.

"Garrett," Master Hammond said. His calm voice reflected the kindness in his eyes.

"Would you please tell us why we are testing on this day?" Master Hammond asked.

"Because mage canon states that we must?" Garrett replied.

Master Hammond raised his eyebrow. It was his way of telling Garrett silently that he did not approve of the casual answer.

Garrett sighed and allowed his eyes to roam around the room, examining the other apprentices in turn.

They were all approaching the age of sixteen, the maximum age for one to demonstrate full control of his or her powers; otherwise they would face exile. Worse, an apprentice could be sentenced to death if it were deemed that the young mage's powers were truly uncontrollable.

The second thing they all had in common was that none of them had his or her Das-Ganei. Most of the mages in the academy found their sword sworn between their eighth and thirteenth birthing year. The latest age anyone had ever gained their Das-Ganei was at the age of fourteen. No one alive could remember a Das-Ganei gained between the fourteenth and sixteenth birthing year. Any mage who had not gained their Das-Ganei by their sixteenth year faced exile.

"Because our sixteenth birthing day approaches and none of us have shown proper control of our magic so far; also, some of us do not have our Das-Ganei," Garrett, feeling properly chastised, replied.

Master Hammond, pleased with the response, nodded.

"You may begin then, Garrett."

As the apprentice that would reach his sixteenth birthing year sooner than the other apprentice mages; Garrett would be tested first. Garrett suspected that the order selected was designed to give the younger ones a chance to calm their nerves and gather the energy they would need if any of them were to pass the test.

Garrett wanted to snort at this last thought as he glanced at the journeymen and master mages who stood in a ring around the tower gardens. They faced inward, looking at the young apprentices. From the older mages' posture, it was obvious to Garrett that they expected everyone to fail.

Garrett turned his attention to the bowl of water sitting on a pedestal before him and dipped the fingers of his left hand into the water. Contentment washed through his body and Garrett closed his eyes, withdrawing from the physical world.

Garrett allowed his body to relax and centered himself. Behind his solar plexus was the small knot that marked the small amount of magic under his control. That knot loosened in response to his mental touch.

Garrett probed the depths of the bowl, attempting to gain an understanding of the clear liquid.

Garrett's meager store of magical energy began to trickle forward. Garrett held it back by force of will and waited patiently as it pooled to a sufficient size. Garrett opened his eyes and began to exercise his imagination. The image was firm in his mind. He could see the fields and outlying landmarks of his family's home and lands.

Garrett removed his hand from the bowl of water.

Garrett released his will, attempting to scry on his family just as a demanding presence brushed against Garrett's mind and joined its will with his own.

Garrett's head snapped up in surprise at the unexpected mental contact. He found his gaze focused firmly on the large pool of water that lay in the center of the tower garden.

A stinging sensation rushed through Garrett's hand and up his arm. The nerves in his body tingled, and Garrett looked around in an attempt to discover what was happening. His mouth dropped open, and Garrett stared at the block of ice encasing his hand.

Hopelessness encased Garrett's heart.

Garrett glanced at Hammond. He was afraid of what he would see. In addition to being in charge of the testing, Hammond was the second-ranked mage in the school.

Fear replaced the hopelessness that lay in Garrett's heart. Hammond silently shook his head in answer to the question on Garrett's face. The numbness spread from Garrett's hand to his heart.

"...course he failed," a bored voice whispered.

Garrett turned toward the voice, and was not surprised to see what he was looking at. Winslow Lotson.

Winslow and Garrett had never gotten along. Garrett wasn't sure why, but knew it had started the day Winslow had gained his Das-Ganei. It was on Winslow's eighth birthing day, and was sooner than anyone else in the class. In response to Winslow's incessant bragging, Garrett had punched him and bloodied his nose in front of a good portion of the class, and in front of his new Das-Ganei.

The dislike grew worse two years later when Garrett, attempting a scrying spell, shattered the scrying bowl, soaking Winslow. Since then, Winslow had made his dislike of Garrett clear and often talked cruelly about Garrett behind his back.

Garrett shot Winslow the dirtiest look he could muster. Anger coursed through Garrett at the smirk that shot across Winslow's face when he realized that Garrett had heard him. That anger turned into something else as Garrett's magic began to flood his senses.

After that, things happened too fast for Garrett to understand.

The temperature in the room began to drop and the large pool of water that lay in the center of the tower garden began to churn.

Droplets of water rose into the air. The apprentice mages being tested began to cry out in alarm. The whole room flooded with water. Garrett and the other young mages were drowning.

Then the water froze.

Garrett and his fellow students were encased in a clear block of ice.

It was not the building pressure in Garrett's lungs or the alarmed cries of panic on the faces of his fellow students that set Garrett off. It was the look of amusement on Winslow's face. Through the ice, Garrett could see Winslow and the older mages, standing within their own protective shielding.

A stray thought amplified Garrett's fury.

He was saving the mages the trouble of exiling them this year.

The strange presence that sat on the verge of Garrett's mind joined its own power with Garrett's, surprising him just as he began to act.

The large block of ice surrounding Garrett and his fellow students shattered. Shards of ice sharper then a Sougan dagger hurled through the air. The protective shielding the master mages had set in place was appeared, visibly ripping to shreds. Mages began to fall in place. Garrett realized what was beginning to happen just as the first ice shard pierced Hammond's stomach.

Garrett panicked, searched for a course of action. The other presence in the back of Garrett's mind demanded his attention. Its own sense of calm purpose had an answer for Garrett.

Garrett followed the course shown to him, determined.

The room abruptly exploded in a fury of fire and heat. The shards of ice hissed as they turned to steam. The concussive wave of force from the explosion slammed outward from Garrett's body.

It knocked the other apprentice mages into the ground and slammed into the mages on the outer edge of the room, throwing them into the wall. The wave of energy ran out of room to expand and contracted rather abruptly.

Garrett was caught unaware. Intense pain dominated his mind. Oddly, the presence in his mind seemed to radiate pleasure.

Garrett's knees buckled. His brief sense of pleasure in preventing everyone's death turned to shame.

He had failed the test. He would be exiled.

Confusion wound its way into his senses then, as well as a curiosity about the strange presence. And fear. Garrett's confusion and curiosity were wrapped in a cloud of fear.

Garrett wasn't sure why, but he sought to reassure the otherness, if for no other reason than to reassure himself.

That was the last thing he remembered as darkness rushed over him, blocking the pain from his senses.

The voices were quiet, yet clear and distinct. The voice currently speaking was that of the Headmaster. Garrett smiled slightly as he began to stretch, but stopped moving when a slight throb of pain coursed through his body. It was probably a good thing that Garrett froze when he did.

"Make no mistake, Winslow. Are you certain?" Headmaster Jarred asked.

Garrett frowned, wanting to know what it was that they were talking about, although hearing Winslow's name mentioned, Garrett was pretty sure they were talking about him.

"I am certain. If you need proof then look around you. Every single one of those students who were in that room with him is seriously injured, and a fair portion of the other master and journeyman mages won't be capable of doing anything for at least a couple of months, and..." Winslow's deep, youthful voice said quietly, persistent in his desire to get through to Jarred.

A throat cleared, stopping Winslow in the middle of his impassioned speech. Jarred turned and took a slight step back, allowing the newcomer to join their ranks. Garrett saw through slitted eyelids that it was Cedrith, Jarred's sword-sworn.

"He speaks truly, Jarred," Cedrith said, "the room...destroyed...and...breached. The pool...Utter disaster...there...he's...dangerous...weapon…exile...death." Avery finally finished.

His voice was so low that Garrett could barely hear him.

Garrett was certain that they were talking of exiling him for being a danger to them and their society. It was simply the way things were done. It still didn't stop the feeling of shame that welled from deep within Garrett's heart. Along with that sense of shame came a feeling of intense anger and confusion. Garrett felt shame because he wouldn't be able to return to his parents. Having seven other children, there would be no room for him on the farm.

Garrett's anger was because the majority of his life had been wasted training for something that he had set all his dreams on; all for nothing. He didn't know why he was confused, but as quickly as that feeling had come, it disappeared. Garrett got confused all over again.

Jarred's voice snapped Garrett out of his confusion.

"...couple days then."

Garrett watched through his cracked open eyes as the head-mage looked his way. Jarred's features were undecipherable through Garrett's eyes. Winslow and Cedrith eyed him as well. Garrett definitely did not like the looks of pity that he read on their features. But pity from Winslow just added to the sense of confusion that he was feeling.

"Come then, let us allow him and the others their rest," Jarred said. His voice sounded dull to Garrett's ears, and he watched as Jarred, followed by the others, walked away from him.

Garrett fully opened his eyes and did his best to ignore the twinges coming from his body. He began to stretch. He felt his teeth clench shut as an intense pain shot through his limbs. His back seized up and his body began to convulse.

Tears running down his cheeks, Garrett found enough strength to gasp out a frantic plea to whatever gods might be listening for help.

Something, or someone, must have been listening, Garrett thought briefly. Through the infirmary window, Garrett watched the sun set before darkness overtook him once more. The darkness was a comforting blanket, protecting him from his pain.

"Edna, how much longer," Jarred's voice, persistent and tired, echoed within Garrett's mind.

The voice drew Garrett out of his sleep, even though Jarred was speaking quietly. His voice had nothing but respect for whomever he was talking too.

Garrett attempted to smile. Pain shot through his face as his lips began to move. Garrett almost cursed out loud. A woman's voice stopped him. He began to cringe, but stopped. Even that slight movement caused his body to throb with pain.

"For the Dragon's sake, Jarred, how many more times must I tell you? It takes as long as it takes. Just look at the boy. He's a mess; his nerves are shot, and his skin is...Look, Jarred, just let me try and do my job, will you? I've done everything I can for him, and it still isn't enough. We're both just going to have to wait. And what is so important that you persistently come in here to see if Garrett is awake?"

That voice belonged to Edna, a rotund woman with curly red hair. She treated all the young apprentice mages as if they were her own children, whether they needed comforting or punishing. Children and Master Mages learned early not to cross her, so it was not surprising that Jarred was speaking so carefully to her.

Jarred sighed.

"You have heard the rumors, Edna?" Jarred said, his voice quiet.

"You're a silly old mage. Who hasn't heard the rumors Lady Demonte is spreading? Oh, for the Emperor's sake, please tell me you don't believe them. You don't, do you?" Edna replied.

Garrett's mind raced with questions. What rumors?

Garrett opened his eyes to mere slits and took a moment to glance around the room. His vision seemed hazy and he had trouble seeing. His vision sharpened suddenly, an awareness crept into his mind.

Garrett painfully opened his mouth to warn his teachers of the alien presence within himself when he got another surprise. The pain wracking his body disappeared.

“ ...wards. Das-... Exile...essary... long until he is ready?”

Garrett felt the surprise in Edna's voice when she answered. Her voice was sharp, her words hesitant, but her answer was firm.

“I don’t know. It's all I have been able to do to mend his body. Jarred, I haven't had any success whatsoever. And yet, for all that, he isn’t healing, and his mind isn't any better, considering all the herbs I’ve sedated him with. I have never seen or heard of anything like this! Jarred, I don't know what to do!” She replied.

“Oh Edna, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do either…There’s books but…they are of no help either. For all intents and purposes…someone who’s done what Garrett has demonstrated shouldn’t exist…it’s unnatural…at least, in this day and age.”

A sense of annoyance, confusion and impatience in the back of his mind caught Garrett's attention. He attempted to focus on it, but found his concentration still on the conversation taking place.

“How long until he is able to move Edna?” Jarred asked.

"I have already told you, Jarred. I don’t know, four more weeks, at the least." Edna spoke aloud. Garrett imagined her rolling her eyes at Jarred. Edna continued. "I have to let him heal naturally; and we can only hope that will happen. His body or mind...or...something...is resisting everything I have tried. If a miracle occurs, you might see him moving his limbs within a weeks' time. And by that I mean maybe, just maybe, a finger twitches. And for all that, I just...don't...know."

"Then, my dear Edna, I shall pray for a miracle," Jarred replied softly.

Garrett almost smiled then at seeing the rotund woman actually roll her eyes at Jarred.

With a final nod to Edna, Jarred took one last look at what he assumed was a sleeping boy, wincing visibly at what he saw, before he turned and left the room; Edna followed him.

Garrett felt bitterness rise within him. He knew it was his own because he found himself wanting to curl up in a ball of misery and cry. That other presence attempted to comfort him but Garrett, to his surprise, was able to push the presence away. He found himself, for a moment, truly alone, and took comfort in it.

"They can't wait to be rid of me, can they?" Garrett whispered aloud.

It was the first time since the disaster that he had spoken aloud. The hoarseness of his voice shocked him. The pain deep within his neck let him know he shouldn't have done so. Garrett licked his lips, only to feel them crack under the pressure of his tongue. Something bitter trickled into his mouth.

It took Garrett a moment to figure out what it was. Blood mixed with something else.

Garrett did not have the opportunity to figure out why he was bleeding. The otherness took advantage of his distraction and, overwhelming his will, Garrett felt himself falling into darkness.

Garrett fought against the impending darkness. He realized that it wasn't natural; it wasn't his body's reaction to his injuries; it wasn't some drug Edna had given him. It was the strange otherness that had insinuated itself into his mind that was putting him to sleep. Garrett's struggles were of little avail, but he was able to stay awake long enough for two thoughts to form.

The first thought was that this other thing needed to stop putting him to sleep like he was a child.

The second thought was that if he slept, he would recuperate quicker than the master mages expected, would be able to escape before the mages could pronounce his exile.

The thought of the mage council issuing a proclamation of exile sent shivers of pain racking down his back. He would never give them that chance.

That other presence must have heard his thoughts. Garrett felt a sense of profound amusement at his first thought and approval and confusion for the second thought.

Garrett groaned quietly as consciousness returned to him. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the full face of Laerun shining brightly through the balcony door. The light was accompanied by a warm, salty breeze. Garrett turned his head slightly and blinked as the pale orange light reflected off the white walls of his room. He braced himself and sat up in an attempt to gain a better understanding of where he was. As he did, he felt a sharp, ripping pain in his back.

Wincing, Garrett reached behind him and felt along his back. Pain was everywhere. Examining his back caused his hands to hurt, as well. Garrett looked at them. They were covered in bandages red with blood. Garrett's breath caught in his throat.

A glimmer in the back of his mind made Garrett aware of its presence. Garrett looked within to watch what it was doing. The otherness was there, but it seemed far away. With a force of will that took Garrett by surprise, the presence pushed aside his panic and focused Garrett's attention on the here and now.

Garrett took stock of his surroundings. His vision had cleared slightly, and he was able to see that he was in an elaborate apartment, high within the tower: an apartment that was usually reserved for master mages. There was a chest next to his bed. The markings on it seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite make them out. Annoyed with the lack of light, Garrett concentrated a moment and exerted his will.

Garrett opened his mouth, screaming from the pain that ripped through his body. Only, no sound was coming out of his mouth. The magic had worked, however, and the room filled with light. Sitting atop a bed across the room was a figure. Something was wrong with them, however.

The body that Garrett saw wracked with convulsions. Somehow, Garrett managed to stay calm and he began an analysis of everything he was seeing The body was covered with bandages marked with red and yellow stains. Garrett suspected it was pus, mixed with blood. Of the other person's facial features, Garrett could see nothing. Bandages were loosely wrapped around the figures' head.

The figure's torso was tightly bandaged, revealing a thin frame. A fleeting though suggested to Garrett that the creature was a Sougan Mummy.

As Garrett continued to watch, the bandages continued to shift until they were unraveling, revealing parts of the boy's body. Garrett suspected that magic was at play, but his own pain paralyzed him, and he was unable to sense it.

A pale, pink nipple revealed itself. It was intact but surrounded by bubbled flesh. The bandages continued to fall off the figure, and Garrett saw more and more of the damage.

The creature's flesh ranged from the pink of a slight sunburn to the angry red of the retsbol, an exotic fish from the north. The bandages slipped further, revealing the figures' neck. Garrett winced.

The skin was black, liberally laced with the bright red of fresh blood. Blisters covered the creature's flesh. As Garrett watched, one burst, oozing a clear liquid that filled the room with a pungent odor. Had Garrett been able to move, he would have vomited.

Throughout this experience, Garrett was aware of the presence in his mind watching through his eyes. Now, however, something was different. Before, he had felt the emotions of this mysterious entity; now, its emotions seemed to be locked tightly behind a wall. All Garrett could feel was a sense of determination, patience, and energy, a readiness for action. This last puzzled Garrett. What was this thing ready for? What was it anticipating? And more importantly, what did it want with him?

As Garrett continued to watch, the bandages around the face of the creature unwound. Its features were revealed. The magical light by which he was seeing the creature flickered and then died. Garrett tensed, annoyed with his inability to maintain the simplest spell, one that a five-year-old could master. Patience and determination prevailed, and the room lit up, even brighter than before.

Garrett stared at what the light revealed, ignoring for the moment of the sudden cessation of pain within his own body.

The creature's face was completely blackened, as if it had been burned. Blood and pus oozed freely; fissures ran in jagged cracks down its cheeks. Wisps of blond hair that had been scorched by fire ringed the thin face.

As Garrett watched, a patch of hair fell away from the creature's scalp and floated in the air for a moment before it caught fire, burned briefly, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Something about the moon drew Garrett's attention from the creature. The moon, which had been on the eastern side of the tower, shining through the windows, was now full, and shining through a window above the creature's head. More time had passed than was possible, and Garrett didn't think magic was involved.

"It's not a creature, Garrett. It's you." The thought that came to him wasn’t his.

Nausea swept through Garrett's body and he turned his head, chest heaving as his stomach began to convulse. An uncomfortable wet feeling began to drift slowly down his face.

In an effort to gain control of his mind and body, and distance himself from his emotions, Garrett recited the mage canon he had learned as a child.

"By year sixteen, be in control or be exiled. By year sixteen, find your Das-Ganei or be exiled. If one is mastered, the other shall come. If one does not, he shall face..." Garrett paused.

"Death," he cited aloud, finishing the teaching. His stomach clenched. Garrett turned his head and vomited.

A sense of confusion welled deep within Garrett."Who are you?" Garrett demanded, mentally and vocally.

His voice sounded hoarse to his ears. He really didn't expect an answer. The art of mental communication was just one more thing on the list of magical talents that he could not seem to control.

He directed his gaze at the mirror in front of him just as curiosity came over him. With a surprising amount of willpower, he got out of bed and almost collapsed. The burnt flesh of his hands made contact with the wall. He was startled, not with the sharp stinging sensation that coursed through his fingers, but with the sudden feeling of strength that surged through his limbs.

Garrett allowed the rest of his body to rest against the wall, his chest heaving with the strained effort he had made in getting out of bed. Resting against the wall he spotted something mages of all ranks coveted.

His mage staff, carved over the years with extreme care. Garrett smiled briefly at the memory of tripping over it when he was growing up. His staff towered, even to this day, well above his head.

Garrett carefully stretched out his arm and grasped the staff, feeling through the pain in his hands the runes and signs that represented the powers and tasks of the mages; tasks that were performed for everyone for the rich and, sometimes, if one was feeling benevolent enough, the poor. As he thought on the staff and the magic and obligations it represented, he felt a sudden sense of disdain and confusion.

“What?” Garrett demanded.

There was no answer.

His own sense of determination returning to him, Garrett turned once more and, leaning heavily on the staff, shuffled his way toward the mirror. His reflection was no better up close than it had been from across the room. Garrett winced while his eyes roamed over the reflection of his naked body. A feeling of self-pity stirred in him.

“Life!”The voice that filled his mind then was subtle, gentle; yet rang with a power that Garrett had never heard in anyone before, and there was something else about it that he couldn't quite fathom.

“Huh,” Garrett responded without thinking.

Garrett shook his head, clearing it as a sudden thought occurred to him. One could not exile something that was not there in the first place. He returned his attention to his image in the mirror. His gaze focused on the two thin, healed tracks that ran from the corner of each eye, down the sides of his nose and across the corners of his mouth. The scars were an angry red, yet remarkably well healed in comparison to the rest of his battered, bruised, torn up body.

Garrett took a step back from the mirror. He felt frustration, as well as another emotion, a desire for something unknown that he had no name for.

“What?”He demanded.

“Come,”The voice replied with a sense of urgency that left Garrett blinking.

“Where?”he asked.

In answer, he found himself moving, slowly, out the balcony doors. He stopped at the railing, and saw to the north the Ocat mountain range. He cast his gaze across the peaks, searching for the answer to his question even as his body relaxed and returned to his control. He found the answer to his question as his gaze fell upon Mt. Aslas.

A thrill of terror and excitement shot through his body. The excitement came from the other. The terror was his.

“I can't!”Garrett exclaimed, startled.

“You must!” The voice was strong with encouragement. It was also firm, commanding.

Garrett resisted the tone of that command.

“None may go there. I will not go there!”Garrett said.

His body froze, motionless with the conflict between his own will and the voice of command from the other.

“If you stay here you will die. Come to us, child. Come, to me!”

“Why?”Garrett asked even as his will began to waver.

“To live” camethe quiet reply, full of assurance.

Garrett closed his eyes and allowed his body to obey the commands of the other. As he did so, memories of the past intruded upon him, haunting him with images of friends, acquaintances, fellow students who had been exiled or had died. Those who had been exiled were never heard from, again. Those who had died...One particular face came to him with that thought. He had been young, but on the verge of adulthood. It had been this boy's last chance to demonstrate control of his magic; it had been Garrett's first test. It was also the first time he had seen a fellow mage consumed by uncontrolled magic.

The magic made a mad dance of color as it burned the flesh from the boy's body, blackening the ruptured skin and then the internal organs and bones. The boy had screamed for a long time, before his body turned to ash that the slightest breeze blew away until there was no trace of him save the echo of his scream in Garrett's mind.

Those screams still haunted him.

His eyes fell on the mirror that Garrett could see through the balcony doors, revealing to him the darkened, burned flesh that still bled.

Garrett surrendered his will. His body relaxed as the pain consuming his flesh eased up until it was just a dull throb echoed with every beat of his heart.

He moved slowly back into the room until he stood by the chest that lay next to the bed. Sending forth his will, he tapped his staff upon the chest, evoking the power with which he had imbued the chest.

The results were unexpected. Not only did the chest open at the staff's touch, but the energy he had stored within the framework of the locking spell poured through the staff and into him, seeming to fill his inner self as if he were an empty pitcher. The bands restraining his chest loosened; he began to breathe easier.

“Hurry young one. Our time is short,”The voice answered urgently.

Garrett carefully knelt down and opened the chest. It felt strange to his touch. All signs of his essence that had bound it to him were gone. Nothing but darkness covered it.

He didn't have time to try and figure out what had happened. That voice in his head urged him continuously to move faster until it consumed him.

Garrett frantically reached into the chest and pulled out a large travel sack that he could sling over his back. The thought of the pain that would cause him made him wince; however the silent voice told him that the pain was his burden, and in bearing that burden he would, in the end, be well rewarded.

He reached into the chest, shoved aside the clothing, and grabbed his books. He put them into the bag, even as he wondered if everything would fit. The thought of leaving anything behind that was his made him cringe. To his astonishment, the entity seemed to agree.

“ Leave nothing behind,” it told him.

He traced his fingers lovingly over the face of his Urthem board that was made of wood, marble and gold. It had been a gift from a sponsor whom he had never met. It was one of many such gifts, including the books that he stuffed into the sack.

If I have enough room after some of my clothes, I'll take it,he silently promised himself.

He continued filling the sack, shoving in clothes and some odds and ends, until only a few things were left: A heavy parcel, wrapped and tied with cord; a pair of boots; one set of clothes; his boots; and his Urthem board.

Frowning, he turned and looked at the travel sack to see how much room was left in it. He found that it didn't seem full. In fact, it looked like there was hardly anything in it.

He pushed aside the clothing and looked to see if everything was still there. It was, although things seemed to be a bit crowded. He took the Urthem board and carefully slit it into the bag. The sides of the bag bulged, briefly, and then wiggled until, with a slight wheeze, it settled into place.

What in the name of the Emperor is going on,he wondered.

“You needed room, I made room,”The voice replied smugly, “now hurry up and get dressed so you may go, Garrett Ande-gol.”

Garrett wondered briefly why he was being referred to as “Garrett Ande-gol," before dumping the wrapped parcel on the bed. It was a gift that he had received just before the final test; it evoked memories that he wanted to forget. He knew it would be a long time before he did, however. He shook off these thoughts, and put on his clothes and boots.

He looked in the mirror, pleased that the undershirt, plain brown trousers and the leather tunic that hung to mid-thigh on him weren't rubbing too badly against his burns, and the leather gloves served well to cover his hands. He took one last look at his face in the mirror and carefully draped the heavy cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood up, pleased that the depth of the hood hid his face in darkness.

One final nod to himself and he turned around, grabbed his travel bag and strapped it carefully in place about his shoulders, picked up his staff and walked slowly out the door and into the corridor. He was ready to begin the journey that someone had promised would take him, not to death, but to life.

The wind stirred throughout the empty bed chamber. Chambers that had been set with wards to contain Garrett Ande-gol four hours ago had been breached, destroyed and set up with a new pattern, allowing powers that had been seen but unrecognized for centuries to awaken within young Garrett's body. The same force behind some of those powers was present, floating above the tower room floor. She looked around the room; her golden hair flowed around her shoulders as she took note of everything with an absent curiosity. She finally flew over the bed and looked at the parcel Garrett had left there. The wind gusted more heavily through the closed room, echoing the sigh that left her lips. She reached out, grabbed the package and drifted toward the closed balcony doors, fading slightly as she passed through it.

Garrett stood atop the balcony landing, staring intently into the dark hole that led to the bottom of the tower. He watched as tiny flecks of light below him constantly appeared and disappeared. They marked the whereabouts of other mages and Das-Ganei traipsing up and down the stairs. Garrett had a problem. It had taken him half a candle mark to get to the landing below the one he had started on. He'd almost tripped over his staff at least half a dozen times. If he hadn't been trying to escape with his life intact, he might have turned around and gone back to bed. But that was still the least of his problems. It was the voices coming from the stairs above, below and behind him that was worrying him.

He was trapped, which was why he was contemplating jumping off the balcony. Fear of falling only to break his legs was the only thing stopping him. He didn't think he'd be able to live with that kind of embarrassment. A ripple of amusement at his current fears made him frown slightly in exasperation. This thing, whatever it was, had been laughing at him from the moment he had almost slipped down the stairs and the resulting string of curses that had come pouring out of his mouth.

With another curse he attempted a small mage-light. Pain coursed through his nerves and he stopped himself. Panting for breath he felt the confusion inside of his mind. That source again, wanting to know why he was taking the stairs in the first place. It was the same confusion that he'd been trying to answer for the past 30 candle marks. He tried explaining again.

“It's the only way up and down the stairs,” he informed it, exasperated. Legs shaking, he leaned against the wall, slumping with pain and exhaustion. Three weeks ago and he was running up and down these stairs on various errands for the masters' within the school like they were nothing. The morning of his test he'd run up and down them with the packet that he'd left behind, barely making it in time to his test. That thought made him wish once more that he'd been late.

Distracted by his thoughts Garrett was caught unaware when a surge of that other presence took over his body again. Only, he could feel it. Alien and strange, yet beautiful and depths of the energy he felt within it were vast, limitless. He concentrated more fully on stopping this thing from controlling his body when the stairwell came once more into his sight, driving him toward the ledge. He brought the entity's control to an impasse just before he plunged over the side.

A small snort of laughter escaped his lips, letting him know he had more control over his body than he had thought he had. Garrett was all for jumping over the side, but only if he broke his neck.

“Self-pity is unbecoming of you. You won't break your neck, Garrett,”the voice argued, persistent in its desire to get him to leap off.

“I know, I’m not that lucky. That's the problem,”Garrett tiredly informed the entity. Thoughts of being hauled back up the stairs so he could recuperate and then be exiled haunted his thoughts.

Exasperation met his response.

“ Trust me!”

“...Will... It's not like you can do much more damage to my body,” he finally replied. Bitterness welled up, surprising him with its intensity even as he relinquished his will to the others' wishes.

That bitterness was swept aside. The others will meshed with his. Garrett closed his eyes as his foot lifted and he stepped off the ledge. Gravity took over. He felt the wind brush over his face.

He began to fall to his death.

...and kept falling.

... ...

... ... ...

... ... ... ...

Garrett sighed. Wondered how long it took for someone to fall to their death. He'd seen other boys and girls fall off the stairs and over the ledge. That was why students were usually placed lower to the ground. Some drunken journeymen and women mages even fell too, but idiocy on their part wasn't usually fatal, thus they were placed higher up within the tower. The master mages were above them; Garrett had just leapt from the second highest floor. He'd never seen a master mage fall through the tower well before.

A thought occurred to him, causing a frown to mar his hidden, scarred and blistered face: Perhaps dying slowed everything down for a person, or perhaps he'd already gone splat against the marble floor at the bottom of the stairs and hadn't heard or felt it. A brief pang of pity stirred within him for whichever student found his broken body. They would have to clean up the mess. Hee finally opened his eyes to check and see if he had gone splat against the ground.

He ended up staring instead; his eyes took in the sight of the windowed slits at the top of the tower. There was a landing ten feet below him that wrapped all the way around the tower wall, an intricately carved marble door sat on one of those walls. He briefly wondered what was past that door, seeing as no stairs wound their way to that landing.

The realization that he himself wasn't standing on anything firm dashed his previous thoughts from his head. He was floating.

In mid-air.

He gasped in surprise.

He could fly.

Amusement answered his rush of emotions and pushed them aside, leaving him light headed at the sudden clarity of his thoughts.

“Pay attention, Garrett Ande-gol. This shall be your first true lesson in your arts of magic,”The entity whispered in his head. He got the distinct impression that whoever...or whatever this thing was; was busy concentrating elsewhere.

Garrett frowned, insulted, but not sure what insult he had just received. Except...He'd been having magic lessons for over eight years now.

The entity brushed it aside. Its presence became more strongly felt, though a part of it still seemed to be...elsewhere.

“This is the element of air, Garrett. You already know fire...”

Garrett winced, seeing himself back in the room he'd woken up in and staring at himself in the mirror again. His body twinged in response, agreeing with this... maniacal side of his mind? Garrett couldn't blame it though. He too found himself agreeing with his craziness. He had definitely met fire.

“Air is everywhere. You make it heavy, thin it out, and with enough power, you can completely remove it in places. Wind can be summoned, from light to heavy. If the wind is hard enough, you could probably even level whole villages. Through air the other elements travel; dust, water, heat, fire, cold. Just like these elements, you too may travel through the air… Watch, listen and feel.”

Garrett closed his eyes and opened his mind. A gasp escaped his lips at the sudden clarity of everything around him. He'd tried this exercise before and never managed to gain enough clarity to see anything. The world had always seemed to be so dark within his sight. Now it just glowed. Everything was so much brighter, with colors everywhere. Brown, blue, red, yellow, grey, orange, purple, black. There were colors he didn't even have names for. He didn't seem to be the only one surprised either.

“ Interesting. Most Saxoph-Lon cannot see with such vivid clarity, except...”The voice trailed off. It left him curious as to the rest of the unfinished thought and the new word that he filed away within his memory. He had a ton of questions to ask, and he intended to do so at the first chance he got.

“ Well, no matter, this is air. Play with it Garrett, for you shall need it to make your trip quicker.”

Garrett felt the entity's presence diminish, leaving his intact and in control of the energy that was keeping him aloft in the air. Even though he knew he was heading into the mountains, he still had no idea where his trip was going to end. That left him with the question of how exactly, besides flying, he was going to get there. Looking down into the stairwell he found his answer. He inadvertently just wanted to go down and found himself floating downwards.

Left! He commanded. He went left, slowly, lackadaisically, almost. It was boring to him. Okay, great, he thought to himself.I can float. Kind of. But this should be faster, shouldn't it?

Abruptly, he started plunging face first toward the ground. He started panicking.

Stop! He mentally shouted as he continued to plummet toward the ground that was visible within his sights. Along with several lights!

He abruptly ceased plummeting. Even became slightly dizzy. He felt like he'd left his heart at the top of the tower. His head snapped backward. His body followed his head, saving him from a broken neck, and he stayed there, floating in the middle of the stairwell, hidden from sight, he suspected, by the darkness of his cloak and the fact that no one would be expecting to see him, much less anyone else, flying. Flying was outside the realm of possibility. As far as he knew, he was the only one capable of doing it. This led to more questions. Why was his magic different? And why had it taken him so long to find it?

He stayed where he was and allowed his heart to catch up with his body and, more importantly, slow down. Voices speaking caught his attention. Standing in a tight circle below him was Winslow and Jarred with a few other master mages.

"Perhaps it is Garrett's Das-Ganei, Winslow. You know as well as I do that the bond between them has no boundaries," Jarred said, shaking his finger under Winslow's nose like he was an errant mageling. "And furthermore, ones power is increased as that bond becomes strengthened. You have no right..."

"No right!" Winslow cut Jarred off. "I have every right to call for his execution! He has no control, and speculation that he gained more power from the bond that is formed between him and a Das-Ganei is just that. Speculation! This Das-Ganei is not here, he almost killed twenty mages; apprentice, journeyman, and master alike. Face it, Jarred, he is a threat and should be killed!" Winslow finished his tirade, every word spoken rising in volume until he was shouting the last, drawing everyone's attention to their small circle. Winslow started advancing on Jarred.

Garrett scowled at Winslow. He could feel his temper rise. Not from the call for his execution, but from the lack of respect Winslow was showing Jarred.

"You can't execute someone without all facts being taken into consideration," Jarred replied amicably, adamant in his refusal to back down from the position he had taken.

"Facts! I just gave you the facts. Everyone who was there and is able...gave you the facts!"

Garrett gritted his teeth, listening and watching in horror to the sheer disrespect that Winslow was displaying by his continued shouting. His disrespect was getting even worse. Spittle was flying from Winslow's mouth into Jarred's face, increasing in volume as he got into Jarred's face.

"Here's another one for you old man! If you can't see the truth and stay unbiased in this, then perhaps it is time for you to step aside as Headmaster of this school and stop meddling in the affairs of the mage-council!" Winslow's anger finally got the better of him and snapped. He pushed Jarred and sent the old man sprawling. Cedrith, just visible in the shadows of the room, leapt into action. Drawing his blade, he lunged toward Winslow. He was met by Winslow's sword-sworn; Zeke, a white-haired, muscled youth whose own sword had been in its scabbard mere moments ago. The two weapons clashed together. Sparks leapt into the air from the sheer force of power behind each swing. They were fighting to the death.

Garrett's anger got the better of him. The air stirred for a moment; abruptly blasted from the top of the stairwell and past him. The room plunged into darkness. He was vaguely aware of doing something that forced the mage lights within the room to die. The great bronze doors opened. The moon shone into the room, split by a figure of shadows. Garrett's anger cooled. He took advantage of the situation. He flitted lower into the room and, staying hidden in the shadows, landed in the darkness near the sealed doors that led into Leth-Kha'ven.

The room was split by a woman's cackling that started suddenly and ended just as abruptly.

"Beware Mages of fluff and imagery, old and young alike! War is upon us, and the Banner's of the God-King fly nigh! Worrisome, yes. But the mages of old gather, and they shall ride high and fly with the..."

She never got to finish her eloquent speech. The room lit up. A ball of energy shot upward and lit the room, revealing the would-be doomsayer to their sights. Garrett flinched at the unexpected brightness. Another voice started yelling.

"Lady Demonte! That will be enough rambling." The voice was deep, filled with anger. Garrett blinked the spots from his vision and focused on the source of the deeply angry voice. Jarred, speaking to Lady Demonte, still had his attention on Winslow. An ugly frown marred his normally calm features. Garrett turned away. Looked at the Lady Demonte.

She had blue eyes and wild white hair that curled past her shoulders, looking like a sheep that hadn't been sheared in a while. Her robes were striped a crazy blue with green and yellow. The amulet about her neck marked her as a member of the Ganath-ton, a secretive order that preached the old ways of an Empire that had long since died within history, and an equally mysterious Emperor who had died with it. They often said this Emperor and his empire would return some day. It was all crazy talk, really, at least, as far as Garrett and most of the citizens were concerned.

"Rambling, Jarred?" she replied. "I have proof!" She suddenly shouted. Her eyes gleamed maniacally in the light.

A sudden ill-feeling in the pit of his stomach had Garrett scrambling as quietly as he could toward the recesses still hidden within the shadows. His actions brought him closer to the sealed door leading into the second mysterious tower.

"Evidence, you say?" a voice mocked. Winslow. "Please, show us this evidence of yours."

Garrett looked at the two mages again, troubled by the scorn for an order that, while it was true it seemed to consist mostly of questionable people, seemed to have united them. Even more troubling was the fact that everyone seemed to be looking at him all of a sudden. He glanced around, checking to see if perhaps there was someone else standing close to him that he had not noticed before, only to find that the old lady was indeed pointing at him. He never saw the group of individuals who were to be sent on exile that night standing on the other side of the stairs across from him.

"There's nothing there but shadows, Lady," Winslow mocked.

Hope stirred briefly within Garrett. That's right, He thought. There is nothing here. Jarred worked against Garrett's hopes. Jarred raised his hand, a ball of light formed within his palm, and a flick of his wrist sent the ball spiraling through the air and a moment later everyone in the room heard a groan and an even louder curse as the light, now hovering over his head, revealed Garrett's presence.

Garrett himself, while slightly upset over the revelation of his presence, was even more upset because he suddenly felt weird. Pressure was building within him, seeming to push out on his skin, leaving him with a strange desire to just go.

A stray draft pushed his hood back. Garrett noticed everyone within the room flinch at his appearance. A few students even turned around and vomited. Some, like Winslow, just seemed confused as to who he was. Only one person wasn't confused.

"Garrett," the voice was kind but reprimanding, "You should be in bed," Jarred said softly, approaching the boy like a concerned parent. Gasps echoed around the room at Jarred's announcement of who the boy was. Winslow recoiled in surprise; a sudden sneer curled the edge of his mouth.

"He shouldn't be in bed; he should be exiled with the others!" Winslow shouted his objection. He even took a step toward Garrett, his posture threatening.

Garrett stepped sideways, mounting the stairs. A surge of power rushed forward, leaving him dizzy. He almost tripped over another step and, stumbling backwards, he managed to stay upright as he crashed into the door. The room kept spinning within his vision and Garrett opened his mouth, wanting to say something, just not sure what. The group of boys and girls to the right of him were in the peripheral of his vision. He looked at them. Saw the packs. The uncertainty and worry on their own faces. A few were older than him. Most of them were younger, deciding not to go on with their training, ready to start a new life. They had given up, hadn't been stupid enough to stick around to the very end in the hopes that their Das-Ganei would show up. Not like him. They were being smart.

Footsteps came closer. A grunt of surprise. Winslow had shoved Jarred out of his way. Was sprinting toward Garrett.

"I have to go," Garrett announced. The dizzying rush of power within him answered Garrett's announcement. His will became unleashed. Garrett's body stiffened. Horrified screams echoed through the vast cavern within the tower. A haze of fire blocked Garrett's vision; a sudden lurching sensation in the pit of his stomach and the room twisted.

Jarred looked at Garrett, surprise all over his face. A rush of flames shot outward from Garrett, surrounding him even as it swirled about his body, consuming him. Consuming the exiled children standing just below Garrett!

People kept screaming. Those screams intensified as Winslow, who had been running to catch Garrett, leapt into the flames. The fires surged and abruptly exploded. Everyone got knocked off their feet. A loud crack echoed through the room. The flames died down. All signs of Garrett and the children who had been set to be exiled were gone.

Winslow was on his back. The concussive force of the flames exploding had knocked him backwards. Hurt him. Zeke was next to him, patting down flames that were consuming Winslow's clothes. Trying to keep him down until someone could look at him.

Burns marked skin. His own hair was singed. Despite the stupidity of the moment, Winslow had managed to come out of the explosion in far better shape than Garrett had two weeks earlier. Winslow felt like he was going to be sick. He wanted to throw up.

And then Jarred was there, hauling him to his feet. Zeke had the blade of a sword against his neck. The room fell quiet. Jarred stared at a blister that was forming on Winslow's face, examined the burns. Threw him off his feet. Winslow landed on his ass, insult added to injury.

"Winslow Lotson, after careful review of your behavior, I demote you to journeyman status," Jarred whispered. Whispers started up. Stopped. No master had ever been demoted before. "Our order has obviously erred by granting you Master status so soon after being made a journeyman. You and Zeke shall pack your bags immediately and leave tonight. Head west and north. Aid the farmers and villagers from Saerth to Avenshale. Follow your duties to the Order."

Jarred turned away, finished with his pronouncement. Whispers started up again. Winslow had just been exiled.

"You would have me travel, Master Jarred" Winslow hissed, mocking. "I am injured, I cannot travel."

"A trifle pittance for one who has no pity in his heart for the plight of others," another voice spoke up.

Lady Demonte. She was looking at Winslow and Zeke. Blue eyes gleamed radiantly with her own condemning words.

"Fear not tiny lord. Your pittance shall be more than even you are aware of," she whispered. Her eyes glazed over. "Serve the Lord of the Elements you shall. Pain and anger shall be yours in abundance, but love, pity, and heartache you will learn."

Her gaze shifted to Zeke. "Death you shall find, but the one thing you seek shall be yours, noble blade. Patience has served you well; it shall continue to serve you."

She sent one last look searching about the room, ignoring the looks of disdain being cast on her by the Mages of Ganentide. At the last her eyes fell upon Jarred.

"Prepare for war, father, for it is coming. Your children shall need you. All of them. And at the last, you shall find the way which you so dearly seek."

She turned and with barely a whisper from her robes walked out of the tower and across the bridge, back into the city from whence she had come.

She ignored the sudden rain, lightning and thunder that swept across the city from above. It was a trifle thing in comparison to what was coming.

She had her own children to warn.

It would be ugly.

In her own head she heard the drums of war sounding, far to the west, beyond the furthest outreaches of the furthest Kingdom.

Death was coming for them.

It was going to be ugly.