“I apologize
for causing you such distress, sir,” the brown-haired man spoke softly. “It was quite noble of you to nearly
sacrifice yourself for my own well-being.
Do you think you will fully recover, sir?” Dark brows furrowed in concern.
“Yes, I’m
sure I will.” Startok’s voice was frail
and full of pain. His head throbbed
tremendously, preventing his eyes from functioning properly. Though the world no longer twisted around
him, every shape carried its own ghost.
The sight was disconcerting, but not quite nauseating. When Startok closed his eyes he could see the
flames inside his spirit smirking back at him, almost daunting him to call on
their power. Startok could barely raise
his arm, never mind concentrate on casting a spell.
“That is
good, sir. A man as generous as you
should not be stricken as you are.”
“Please, call
me Startok,” he insisted, preferring to drop formality and speak on a more
comfortable level.
“That is your
wish?” Startok’s head twitched in a
slight nod. “Very well, then,
Startok.” He bit his lip, pondering his
next words. “You may call me Andy for
now.”
“For now?” he
queried.
“Yes. It is not my true name, but it must suffice
for the time being.”
“Then, Andy, may
I ask why--” he winced as a sharp pain rushed through his body, “--why are you
here?”
“I was
imprisoned by the foulest being of the land, though I dare not speak his name,
for your sake. You have suffered enough
already.” He drew a breath to continue,
but Startok interrupted him.
“His name has
no effect on me. Speak it as you will.”
“Indeed?!” He paused, almost considering another idea,
but then shrugged and continued his tale.
“Rekulock saw me as a threat to himself.
Prior to my imprisonment here, I was able to control time; everything
from viewing the past to predicting the present course of the future. I could travel to any time to converse with
anyone I pleased, though I very rarely involved myself in any time frame other
than the present. A simple change in the
past could drastically alter the future.
I refuse to have such influence in the world.”
“Could you
prevent events from occurring?”
“Such as?”
“Births?” he
said simply.
“Yes.” He paused a moment. “I believe I know what you are
wondering. If I had the power to stop a
man from being born, why did I not prevent Rekulock’s birth?” He frowned.
“Rekulock himself has prevented me from that task. Before the world knew him as a threat, he was
building his powers. He was able to
protect himself from being slain by an act of my power. I cannot explain how he knew of my power, nor
of how he knew to nullify my power, for I do not fully know myself. There is a gap in time hundreds of years ago
that I cannot search. That is his
doing.” Andy fell silent for a
moment. “That’s odd. Suddenly I speak in the present tense.”
“Why is that
so odd?”
“I have been
a prisoner under this dome for several years.
I have not been able to extend my powers beyond the dome, and every day
my powers have diminished. Before my
temporal imprisonment from which you gave me freedom, I declared my powers
inert. The levels of my power were
extremely low, and I felt an onslaught of pain and suffering that I could not
control--”
“What?” the Starlorten’s
voice gasped. “Please, explain that to
me. Levels?”
“Yes. I imagine you only recently discovered your
powers, then?” Startok managed another
nod. “I see.” Andy paused to gather his thoughts. “Every magician possesses a limited amount of
power. Every spell cast drains that
power, either temporarily or permanently, depending upon the type of spell it
is. Rest between spell-casting often
restores the temporary loss of power, assuming that nothing else is hindering
recovery, of course. If the power has no
chance to recover, or simply cannot recover, and the castor casts again, the
result is often death. Never allow your
power to drain completely, Startok. It will
literally kill you. As for the term
‘level’, most magicians use that as a measure of their ability. At present, my power is at its lowest viable
level, which was why I could not remove myself from the stasis.” His voice filled with woe. “You’ll never appreciate your power more than
once you realize it is gone.”
“I understand
what happened to me, then,” Startok muttered tiredly. Despite his exhaustion, he needed this
information. “How do you know when the
power is permanently gone?”
“That depends
on many things. If you store your power
in a specific area, such as I once did with this room, you can almost never
reclaim it. You may feel a breeze on
your face. That is my power from long
ago. That is one interesting oddity, as
I find it, that an enchanted item stays enchanted indefinitely. Its power almost never dies, unless it is
somehow drained, though I never knew how to do such a thing. Rekulock, on the other hand, is a master at
that task.”
“It’s all
trial-and-error, I suppose?” Andy
nodded. “Then I assume only I can rate
my levels of magic power? You, for instance,
could not?”
Andy squinted
an eye and tilted his head to the side.
“If I were to concentrate, I could possibly compare your remaining power
to mine, in terms of my power. But
unless we knew how our powers differed in consumption, it would be almost impossible
for me to inform you how much power you actually possess for your own usage.”
“What of
potential? Can you also sense what power
I should have?”
“Interesting,”
Andy smiled. Startok, in his weary state
could barely see the smile at all, nor the fact that his entire mouth did not
lift in the action. The left side of
Andy’s mouth opened more than the right, almost giving the impression of a
sneer, though the kindness in his eyes belied that possibility. “Startok, that’s an interesting idea at the
very least. You know what sort of spells
you’ve recently cast, and the fact that you are still an acolyte would add a
certain amount of error to your casting, which, when you are more adept, will
mean that the spells you have recently used will require less power. By taking all this into account, we could
perhaps ascertain your power limit.” His
smile widened slightly more. “What a
task! However, I would first ask for
your permission to proceed with this test.
After all, I would be trying to see into your spirit, and I would know
your magical limitations. That may or
may not matter to you, depending on whether or not you trust me.”
Startok
paused in thought. “It really doesn’t
matter, Andy. After all, if your power
at its pique could not break through the dome to allow your escape, knowing my
limitations would give you no benefit.
Even if you could drain what power remains in me, I doubt, somehow, that
you could use my power as your own.”
“If I
understand you correctly, then you are right.
I could not use your spells. For,
if I could drain your power, it would become mine, giving me the ability to use
my magic once again. I could not learn your magic that way.”
“You
understand me correctly. Now, Andy, I
ask of you, if it will not drain your remaining power, please search for my
limitations.”
Andy
nodded. He drew in a breath of the cool,
circulating air. After requesting
Startok to clear his mind and close his eyes, Andy reached his hands out to the
Starlorten. He touched his left hand to
Startok’s heart, and his right hand to his forehead. Visions flowed instantly into Andy’s
mind. He allowed himself to be carried
into Startok’s magical self. Gradually,
the darkness behind Andy’s eyelids gave way to the blue flames of Startok’s
mind. He watched as the power drifted
about like water in a quiet stream. But
the amount of blue light was too much for Andy to see at once. Gently, he touched the flames and brought
them together. Creating an analogy he
could use to measure Startok’s strength, Andy envisioned Startok’s mind as a
goblet and his power as wine. Slowly the
golden goblet filled as the power realigned itself to fit the metaphor. Andy casually guided the light into the
golden casing, and gasped once his task was complete. The goblet was almost completely full! Staring in disbelief, Andy noticed a slight
increase in the volume of the wine, a sign that Startok’s power was
recovering. Why, then, is he so stricken?
Cautiously, Andy grasped the stem of the goblet and inverted it, spilling
the wine into Startok’s mind. When no
more of Startok’s power flowed from Andy’s chalice, he gazed into it. His eyes squinted in confusion as he noticed
the goblet was nearly full. Plunging his
finger into the allegorical wine, he felt that it was frozen. His finger tapped gingerly on the surface,
being careful not to disturb the magical power.
As he did this, however, the previously spilled contents collided with
him, knocking his finger into the goblet and puncturing the frozen layer of
Startok’s power. In a blinding fury, the
power sealed away was unleashed, sending Andy hurtling away. His mind snapped back to his own head with
such force that his body leapt away from Startok’s uncontrollably. Biting back the crippling pain that
accompanied the use of his weakened powers, Andy raised himself to the bed so
that he might watch Startok’s reaction to the accidental rupturing of his inert
ability.
As expected,
the reaction was not all too pleasing.
Startok’s face contorted in more distress than had shone on it the
previous day. His body lashed out in all
directions, tearing the bed sheets to rags.
Andy grabbed Startok’s hands and pinned them to the bed. Startok’s rage proved the stronger, however,
and Andy found himself on the floor once again.
Without warning, Startok began to scream, burning his throat until it
could no longer carry a sound.
The scream
awoke Tawi in a fit of worry, and she ran down the endless hall, passed through
the evaporating golden door, ran past the throne, and into Andy’s healing
room. She helped Andy to his feet and
the two then fought to constrain Startok’s thrashing. Drawing on her past helplessness and newfound
love, Tawi grabbed Startok’s ankles and secured them with the strength that
erupted from the desperate need to calm him.
Andy used a similar tactic to bind the blond man’s arms. Feral cries squeaked from Startok’s fiery
throat, as tears drenched his face and pillows.
With his writhing body secured, he could do nothing else but contend
with the onslaught of power that attempted to tear his mind asunder.
Desperation
was the only ally in his struggle. The
flames were so immense, they could not fit entirely in Startok’s mind. Thus they flowed through his entire body,
forcing Andy and Tawi to work harder to constrain him. As the flames raged through his body, Startok
found himself enjoying the warmth despite the pain. He did not wish to be rid of the flames; he
wished only to subdue them. But the
flames were too numerous for him to contain all at once in his infancy as a
magician. He needed to store them
somewhere, but where and how, he did not know.
Hadn’t Andy just told him that storing magic power in something rendered
it permanently lost? How, then, could
the Rings of the Realm bequeath their powers unto the rest of the world in the
dawn of magic, and still maintain their inherent abilities?
Startok could
not concentrate long enough to know, but the thought instilled him with
brilliance. In a sudden fury of his own,
Startok gathered as many flames as he could, and he cast them down his left
arm. He coerced the reluctant flames
into Fanntorr’s gem-encrusted Ring.
Reaching deep into his mind, Startok forced every flame possible into
the Ring. As his mind emptied, the
flames surged in from his limbs. He cast
these, as well, into Fanntorr’s Ring.
The blue gem illuminated. Startok
held the flames at bay, imprisoned inside the rectangular gem. But rather than insisting that the flames
remain inside the gem, Startok allowed the flames to roam through his mind and
body, instilling him with the peace they had when he first discovered their
presence. He offered the flames no
resistance as they sped from one limb to the next. He showed them the way to the Ring.
After many
trials, Startok was able to convince the magical flames that the Ring was no
prison, but rather, an extension of himself.
The flames seemed sentient, wishing to reside within Startok, but
willing to accept the blue gem as an alternate resting place, so long as
Startok promised never to remove the Ring without allowing them the opportunity
to reenter his body. Startok found
himself agreeing to an awkward contract that could be enforced only by his
honesty. With ease, Startok could remove
the Ring, preventing the flames from entering his mind, but as Startok
considered this weakness in the contract, he suddenly realized the flames were
as much a part of him as his mind and body.
Preventing the flames from living inside him would be to deny his own
existence. Understanding at last where
the flames belonged, the fighting ceased.
The blue flames filled his mind and body to a comfortable capacity,
while the overflow retreated to the blue Ring.
Startok was instantly filled with love and peace. He found himself smiling. The air was amazingly crisp and clean, and
the world was no longer a danger. The
peace inside Startok was unlike anything he had felt before. It was stronger than the peace that had soothed
the effects of his rape by Vanity and her tribe. The peace allowed every painful memory to be
cherished for its true emotion.
Startok’s father gave him to Astle, not because he could not care for
Startok, but because he did care for
Startok. He understood that now, and the
memory gave him strength in place of sorrow.
All would be
well. Doubt fled his mind more quickly
than the onslaught of blue fire had begun.
His father had been correct; he possessed tremendous strength. Perhaps Fanntorr was correct as well, in that
Startok would be as powerful as a god.
The young man considered this a possibility, now. He would not rush to achieve a god-like
status, nor would he consider abusing the power he would have. He would accept the task of living his life
as a normal man, completing whatever abnormal tasks were laid out for him. His goal would be to love. Exhaustion coasted through his body as images
of Tawi drifted into his mind. Astle was correct when he said love would
triumph over me. It will be my guide,
leading me onward every day.