Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2) (23 page)

Erinthill moved to grip Morgoran by the shoulders so she could look him directly in the eyes. “Morgoran, my friend, I beg you to put him through the trial tonight. There is no time for ritual or anything connected to the old days. None of that will have any bearing on the actual trial or its outcome. The old rituals were just for show. Take him to the Hall of Ancients.”

Morgoran sighed. “I suppose the old days
are
gone. It is a shame that I am helping to begin a new generation of wielders without adhering to our customs and traditions. I guess they are just foolish nonsense.”

“They are not foolish ways, dear. We will still honor them when the time comes. This is just an extreme case. A case you do not seem to grasp is of the upmost seriousness. ”

Morgoran strengthened his resolve. “Very well, let’s get Dorenn to the Hall of Ancients tonight.”

“Good, we can get this issue solved before the madness I sense in him becomes too much to handle.”

Morgoran halted. “Madness? What madness?”

Erinthill took Morgoran’s hand and whispered in his ear. “I know you do not want to believe his malady is of any origin besides essence, but you do know he is descended from Marella, one of the most powerful mindwielders ever known. His sickness is unique, and I fear he will go mad if we do not get him help right now.”

Morgoran gestured to Dorenn. “Come on, lad, let us get you to the Chamber of Ancients and get you well.”

Dorenn complied, not wishing to give away that he heard Erinthill’s whisper. He would have to look up this Marella and find out who she was.

As luck would have it, a ship called
The Shooting Star
had just had her hull repaired in dry dock and still rested upon the scaffolding. She would be returned to the water in the morning. As such, she was unmanned and guarded by a scant company of lesser crew members. Gondrial suspected that the real crew had been disbanded and hired onto other ships, and that the captain of
The Shooting Star,
even now, perused the taverns and places of ill repute, looking to hire on new sailors. Only five scruffy sailors guarded the ship. Gondrial and Lady Shey sneaked up under the dry dock directly behind one of them.

“Do you wish for me to teach you the sleep spell, my lady?” Gondrial whispered in Shey’s ear.

“You seem to bring that up at the most inopportune times.”

“We forget about it until we need it, don’t we, my lady?”

“So it would seem. Now put that sailor out.” She pointed directly ahead.

Gondrial whispered a few words, and the sailor collapsed.

“Kenning, get back up!” a voice Gondrial presumed was another sailor shouted. “No sleeping on the job!”

“Damn it,” Gondrial swore. “Do you see him?”

“Aye, he is walking up the side of the ship from the west,” Lady Shey answered.

“I can’t see him.”

The sailor started moving toward his companion in a run.

“He is going to sound the alarm,” Lady Shey warned.

“There you are, my friend,” Gondrial said as the sailor came into his view. He mumbled a few words, and the sailor collapsed on top of his companion as he ran up to him. “Got you! Ha ha!”

Lady Shey stifled a giggle.

“What was that? Are you having a bit of fun, my lady?”

“Let’s just get to the other guards,” she said.

Ianthill headed up the makeshift gangplank as Lady Shey and Gondrial met Sanmir and Enowene on the opposite side of the ship.

“They are all out,” Sanmir said. He held up his blow staff. “That sleep potion should keep them asleep for a couple of hours.”

Kyrie stepped out of the shadows. “I weakened the peg; the ship is just barely holding onto the scaffolding. A good jolt and the peg will give way.”

“Good. Everyone on board, and hold on to something,” Gondrial said. “This ship will be hitting the water hard.”

After everyone was on board, Gondrial was about to draw essence to remove the peg when he heard shouts.

“EY! You on that ship. You canno’ be up thar!”

“Everyone, hold on,” Gondrial shouted as he released the essence. The ship lurched and stopped.

“Is the stabilizer peg released?” Ianthill shouted to Gondrial.

“Aye, I can see it on the ground.” Gondrial jumped up and down as if the ship would move down the scaffolding ramp under his weight.

A bell rang out in the night and men scrambled.

“They have sounded the alarm,” Kyrie bellowed.

“Is that what that alarming sound is?” Gondrial chided.

“Quick, help me raise the sails,” Sanmir said. “Use your magic and get those sails up!”

“Aye,” Ianthill said. “Sanmir can fill them.”

Lady Shey, Ianthill, and Enowene began to draw in essence, and the sails moved into position. After they were extended, Sanmir used his command of the elements and manipulated the air to fill the sails. The ship jolted forward and headed down the ramp.

“Hold on!” Ianthill exclaimed.

The ship hit the water full sail, tossing the small party around despite them holding on to the railing.

The ship sailed through the harbor, but not out of danger. A frigate had joined them in pursuit, presumably the dock master.

“How are we going to get away?” Kyrie asked Ianthill.

His face warped into a wide grin. “Don’t worry, we will.”

Gondrial, Lady Shey, Ianthill, Enowene, and Kyrie gathered on the bridge. The four master wielders joined hands, and Kyrie grabbed ahold of the ship’s wheel.

“Remember, draw the essence from the sea as soon as we clear the bay,” Ianthill instructed. “I don’t want to damage Seabrey.”

The frigate was steadily gaining on them as they cleared the bay area.

“I wish I could see the dock master’s face,” Gondrial smirked.

“Concentrate, Gondrial!” Ianthill snapped. “Now, draw the essence from the sea now!” They each drew in essence. “Okay, release it to me, and I will handle the rest.”

As the wielders released their essence to Ianthill, the ship lurched forward and then slowly rose out of the water and became airborne.

“It’s working!” Kyrie said excitedly.

The ship gained altitude, and her sails filled with Sanmir’s wind, propelling her faster and faster. Soon the frigate and then the sea were far below and almost out of sight.

Chapter 14: Dorenn’s Trial

The last light of dusk settled on the horizon as Morgoran, Erinthill, Kerad, Vesperin, and Dorenn entered the Hall of Ancients. Erinthill and Vesperin patted Dorenn on the back, wished him well, and took their leave of him through a doorway that led to the attached temple of Loracia, where they prepared to
join Brynna and Melias in healing prayers to Loracia and Fawlsbane Vex.

Morgoran led Dorenn to a long corridor. “At the end of this corridor is the entrance to the Chamber of Ancients. Every wielder who ever trained on this island has been through that chamber, and every single wielder has left a part of their own essence there for future generations. New wielders were sent through to specifically heal essence sickness, and then to leave their own essence when they had learned the ways of wielding later in their training. It was discovered over time that patterns in wielding essence recurred generation after generation. The essence of a former wielder that fits your essence pattern will bind with you and open you up to handle wielding essence and cure your sickness.”

“So your essence is in there?” Dorenn asked.

“Aye, as is Ianthill’s, Gondrial’s, Shey’s, and hundreds more.” He wavered for a moment. “But I must warn you, son.” He cupped the back of Dorenn’s head. “So are the essences of Toborne, Naneden, and Drakkius.”

“How do I avoid them?”

“You don’t. Their essences may heal you like any other.” He pushed him along. “We will all be here in the temple should anything go wrong. There is a rope hanging at the center of the hall. If you pull it, a bell will sound in the temple to alert us that something is wrong, and we will come running.”

“I wish I had the Silver Drake here with me.”

“I wish I had never told you about that. You can do it without her.”

Dorenn could see on Morgoran’s face that he didn’t quite believe that. “I am not so sure,” Dorenn concluded.

“There is no other choice at this point, I’m afraid. We are here, and she is not.”

Dorenn nodded and began his trek down the corridor. Even though torches lit the way, the hall seemed to grow darker as he neared the chamber door. He pushed the chamber door open and peered into the room. A couple of sconces with torches dimly lit the room. In the center, an ornate rope with a frilly end dangled from the ceiling. Its weave consisted of different colors forming a pleasing pattern. The walls were mostly smooth except for an enormous stone sconce jutting out of each one, filled with jagged-looking, glowing green crystals.

Dorenn entered the room and walked up to one of the crystals. He reached out and touched it, but nothing happened. He stood there a long time before visiting each crystal in turn.
Am I supposed to say something or do something?
he thought. He turned back to the doorway, intent to go and get Morgoran, but as soon as he took a few steps, the stone door closed and fit seamlessly in the stone around it. Dorenn could not even see the creases of a door anymore. Feeling stifled, he began to gasp for air until he noticed the flames from the torches moving due to puffs of air coming from a series of holes in the walls near the ceiling. He thought about pulling the rope since nothing was happening, but Morgoran said it was for emergencies, and this was not an emergency. He decided to sit on the floor and wait until Morgoran came to get him.

“Remain standing,” a voice boomed in the room when Dorenn started for the floor.

“Who’s there?” Dorenn asked. There was no answer.

“I said, who’s there?”

Several ethereal apparitions seeped out of the walls. They came forth as transparent mist. The crystals glowed green as soon as they appeared. “We are the vestiges left behind. We are what is left. The essences of those who came before. You have touched the vessels of our being.”

“The crystals?”

“Aye, that is where we dwell.”

Dorenn caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see balls of mist, which he assumed must be the captured essences of the wielders before him, floating from each of the crystal sconces. Hundreds upon hundreds
of the ethereal forms entered the chamber. “Can you cure my sickness?”

“This is your trial, Dorenn Adair. We have been waiting for so long.”

Dorenn was confused. “You have been waiting for me?” He began to feel uneasy as the room filled up with even more of the balls of mist. “How do you know my name?” He started to move toward the rope. “One of you is supposed to bond with me and cure me, right?”

Mist snaked its way up to his head, blocking his way to the rope. It formed into a face eye to eye with him. “I am the essence of Salazera. I can cure you.” Dorenn opened his mouth to talk, but before he could get a word out, the mist entered him like a puff of air, and he breathed it in deeply. He started coughing and couldn’t catch his breath. He bent over and put his hands on the top of his thighs. He coughed again and then stood upright, taking a deep breath. The mists were swirling around him, and as soon as he started breathing in, they all entered his torso in rapid succession. He gasped and writhed but could not stop them. He reached for the rope nearby as the last of the mist entered his body. The room was spinning, and his head felt like it had been cleaved into. He felt himself falling to the floor. Reaching out for the rope, he fell short. From the floor, he could see more mists coming forth from the crystal vessels. He opened his mouth in an attempt to call for Morgoran to help him. The new mists surrounded him and began to enter his body. The pain became unbearable, and Dorenn closed his eyes. When the pain subsided, he opened his eyes to see more mist pouring out of the crystals. Dorenn tried to scream as they floated toward him. Again the pain came, and Dorenn felt himself go limp.