CHAPTER XVIII
MEMORIES
Merri sat cross-legged before the Elder, eyes closed, a
look of concentration on her face. Ailuros lay curled
nearby, awake but also with his eyes closed. Her frown
deepened, and she finally opened her eyes and blew out her
breath in frustration.
"Patience, young one, patience. Wait, and it will come
to you. The key to mastery is persistence and practice."
Merri snorted.
"Why is it that the words I dislike most all begin with
'p'?" She asked. The Elder laughed, a soft, dry-throated
sound.
"There is no mystery there. It is because you are a
mortal, and you chafe quickly at what you see as pointless
waiting. You think that time waiting is time wasted, that
any time spent in ways that do not immediately produce
results is precious time better spent at other, more rapidly
gratifying, tasks. It has always been so, with you and with
almost all mortals." Merri sighed, feeling somewhat guilty
for her show of impatience, minor though it was.
"I'm most sorry, ancient one. I am just frustrated by
my inability to remember, and how much more difficult this
is than it had seemed. You said that it would be the same
as with Ailuros, but with him, I do not even try."
"You mistake me, child. It is like to your bond with
Ailuros in nature only. Indeed, it is doubtful that with
anyone else will you attain the same depth of connection as
with your companion. You cannot hope to replace with lead
that which was forged with iron. It is also perhaps true
that the ease of your bond with your friend hinders your
learning, for the touch is so simple, so always-there, that
you do not think of it. You simply want it to be so, and it
is done. It is not so with learning the mind-speak. For
that there will be much waiting, much seeking in the dark."
"Again, I ask forgiveness. I should not be so
ungrateful to you, not after you have shown me such
courtesy. I know that it is a sufferance for you to put up
with my complaints, which must seem to your timeless ears as
constant as the sun's risings." The withered elf smiled.
"Do not assume how I 'must' perceive things. The minds
of those around you are closed to you; You cannot dream of
the things they conceal. Even after you master the mind-
speak, if indeed, you ever do, for it is a demanding skill,
even then you will only begin to conceive of how different,
yet how similar, are the thoughts that fill the minds of
strangers. Or, indeed, of friends. But, if you tire of
your efforts at mind-speaking, then you need not continue
now. There is always another time."
"Would that I had but a measure of your patience."
"Patience is an art that often learns itself, child.
You will come to understand the meaning of that as your
years unfold. But, now, how comes your healing? Have you
remembered anything new?" Merri sighed.
"I remember little more than I did when you found me,
I'm afraid, and that was near a week ago. I remember... my
sister, that there was something important I needed to tell
her."
"What is it that you desire to tell your sister?"
Merri smiled, though there was little humor in her voice.
"That is one of the many things I do not remember. It
seems so strange. I don't even recall how I came to be
here."
"I have told you, child, that I found you wandering
these forests, blank-eyed, the panther beside you, guiding
your steps. I brought you here, and..."
"I know." Merri said, and an instant later felt her
face growing uncomfortably warm in embarrassment as she
realized that she'd demonstrated her impatience again. "I
am sorry, Elder. I should not have interrupted." The Elder
shrugged, "But that wasn't what I meant. You have told me
how I came to your village, and so far I have found no fault
with my recent memories. What I meant was, how did I come
to be wandering these forests? I do not remember much of
myself, but I do know that this place is far from my
homeland."
"I do not doubt that, in time, these mysteries will
reveal themselves to you. You say you remember a sister?
Do you remember what she was like?"
"No, I..." Merri stopped, suddenly overtaken by a
vision of a pale face outlined by contrastingly dark hair, a
face with fierce green eyes. "I think she had... green
eyes, and black hair. Very black hair." The Elder nodded.
"That is good. You see, you move forward even when it
seems you are standing still. Indeed, even when you truly
are doing nothing but being still, you can accomplish much.
When the body is still and the mind calm, you will find
yourself amazed what the spirit is capable of." Merri
sighed.
"Like the mind-speaking, I suppose. A subtle hint, but
one that I understand. I will keep trying."
"Do not sound so sad. It is as I have said, your time
spent in effort has not been wasted. You make advances,
even though they cannot yet be seen."
"I do not mean to change the subject rapidly, but I
have an idle question." She sighed again, "Idle questions
seem the only ones that have answers, of late." She looked
up at the Elder, "Not that I am suggesting that you haven't
answered me as best you can, of course. I would indeed be
showing a shameful lack of gratitude to do that. You have
told me all that you know." She spoke with such simple
faith in her words that the Elder briefly felt a pang of
guilt for hiding the truth from her, though he did so,
strange as it seemed, at her own request.
"Ask your question, child. I do not mind."
"How old are you? I know it sounds silly to ask, but,"
she shrugged, "It's strange the things the mind finds to
dwell on, isn't it?" The Elder laughed his parched laugh
again.
"I am old. Ancient, as you humans say." He seemed to
grow distant, slightly less tangible and earthly. "I am
older than years, older than the numbering of years, or even
the notice of years. I was old when the three Daughters of
Evan were young and hot-tempered, when the western gods, the
Children of Orial Starborne, fought and vied for the
attention of their mother. I have seen vast empires and
mountains rise, watched them crumble and fall, worn away or
shattered. I have seen a trickle of water, barely a stream,
make vast pits in stone through the slow work of centuries.
I have lived in this plane since my people were drawn here
from the Light, since just after the strife of gods brought
Chaos, and its close cousin, Life, into being.
"My children and the children of my children seem to
outnumber the very stars, and I have seen too many of them
die, killed by a legion of diverse enemies; famine, war,
hatred, ignorance, bigotry, and all too often the slow,
wasting agony of grief. The years have passed in their
thousands and their hundreds of thousands, but even now I
can see the faces of my dead as clearly as when they lived,
more clearly even than those I see before me. I have been
patient, so very patient, but when will my time come? My
kind were woven but lately and clumsily into the cloth that
is the history of this land. Is my thread to be one than
hangs, uncut, from the edge of the tapestry? Is mine the
thread that unravels the whole work?" He stop talking, and
they sat there in silence for some time. Finally, the old
elf focused his eyes on Merri again. "You must forgive me
my wandering attention, but to ask such as I my age... such
a thing invites a reminiscence that is perhaps best avoided.
To think on all the things that have happened in my life...
That is an undertaking so long as to give even such as I a
reason to hesitate. But look, I have talked away the day,
and your kind grows tired so quickly. The time for our
speaking is over for today, I think. Go, and may you not
need to hunt for sleep. Perhaps tonight you will remember
something."
"Perhaps," Merri said, rising and stifling a yawn,
"'Till the morrow, then." She bowed and left, Ailuros up
and at her side in a second.
Her dreams that night were many, and strange. Memory
blurred with fantasy, and often it was difficult to tell the
one from the other. Her first such dream began with her but
a very small child, lying alone in her bed, staring at the
ceiling and trying her best to ignore her mother's angry
voice in the kitchen, giving the sharp edge of her tongue to
her sister... her older sister, older by some two years, and
old enough, as her mother yelled, to know better. Why, the
poor dog liked her well enough anyway, so what cause did she
have trying to ensorcel it?
Her sister--Alys, her sister's name was Alys, though
she sometimes had trouble saying it if she got too excited,
the 'l' got in the way and sent her young tongue tripping
over itself--her sister was crying, practically wailing, but
Merri didn't really mind that she couldn't get to sleep. At
the moment, she was just glad nobody was angry with her, and
she wanted desperately to stop hearing her mother's
shouting, because she knew it was wrong to listen to people
when they thought they were alone. She'd been whacked good
for that not two days before, and in the mood her mother was
in she didn't want a second dose. But more than that, Merri
was suddenly sad, very sad for something... but she didn't
recall quite what. It felt like there was something
missing, something not where it should be. She soon
realized that it was her dog, her faithful Cartis, who by
then should have been curled up asleep at her feet. She
fell asleep wondering where the dog could have gotten itself
to, still denying in her heart the grayed, half-dead thing
she'd found in the yard that afternoon, trying pitifully to
thump it's tail as she approached.
Shortly thereafter she relived her aunt's birthday
feast, and the incident with the mice. Her mother had lain
into them for misbehaving when she had them home again,
Merri catching trouble mostly by association, though the
cake she'd stuffed in her pocket didn't help to please her
mother in the least. She could tell that her sister was
angry, but she couldn't understand why. All she'd done was
play with the mouse, after all! But still, her sister was
furious with her, and her older sister could make trouble
for her when she wished to.
After that, she had a hazy dream of trolls and deamons,
of Ailuros and a strange woman saving her, but that dream
faded to nothingness as soon as it was over, swept aside by
the more vivid reality of her next dream. In it, she found
herself slightly older, sent to spend her time with the
priests at the temple of Evan. At first she was too awed by
the holiness and solemn air of the temple to get into any
mischief, but that soon changed. Alys had already spent her
time with the Order, and she told Merri everything there was
to know before she left. Merri, trusting child that she
was, believed every word. She soon found herself toting
water and dusting slates as much as learning her lessons, as
punishment for the many disastrous pranks she pulled, like
her attempt to sneak a small pastry to her bed. Oddly, the
priest were coming by at exactly the time Alys said they
would be most distracted, and the pastries were not as
unguarded as she'd been led to believe. Merri, still young
enough that she placed unthinking faith in her elder sister,
assumed that the priests must have changed their habits just
after Alys left... and no wonder, considering the stories
she told of her stay there. She was just being sent to the
Warder's chambers when the dream mercifully faded.
She woke the next morning feeling almost as tired as
when she'd gone to sleep, which was, considering her dreams,
not completely surprising. She told the Elder the things
she'd remembered, and he commented that her memory would
likely return in such a manner, in great disjointed blocks.
She spent the day trying again to reach out with her
thoughts to the Elder, but with very little success.
However, luck was with her in a different way, for as she
sat silently concentrating, thoughts and associations
floated up in her mind, fleeting fragments of memory, vague
impressions passing through her attention. Sometimes the
returning memories were just things she suddenly knew, and
other times she lived the events again, caught up in the
flood of remembered past.
She remembered the dark of the cellar, sent there on an
errand, and felt the confidence of knowing that she no
longer feared it--though it was but a few years previous
that she had held it in terror--and remembered the wonderful
smell of damp earth, dust, mold, and her mother's spices,
all mixed together. She remembered her brief but heart-
breaking infatuation with a young boy, the blacksmith's son.
She remembered spending half her time dreaming over his
delicately handsome face, a stark but pleasant contrast to
his body of rippling strength, earned from many days at the
bellows and the forge, and the other half with her mother
chiding her for day-dreaming when there was work to be done.
Despite her sister's occasional protests to the contrary,
her mother showed no favoritism, and laziness quickly
brought her all-too-often harsh tongue upon the offender.
She remembered getting an understanding of magic from
Yarrow, the wizard's ward, who, in later years, would teach
her in other matters as well. She remembered her father
returning home for almost a week, one of the longest visits
he ever made, and the small practice-swords he'd brought for
her and her sister. He taught his daughters to dance with
iron, years before they'd think of dancing with men, and
they learned well. Alysia, as with most things, had a
natural talent for it, and she was soon terrorizing her
sister in their practicing. Driven by the stinging welts
the slender metal wands left on her skin and, more
importantly, her pride, she pestered her father for every
lesson and trick he knew, until by the end of the week it
was Alys who left the practice crying. Thus it was in most
things between the sisters; Alys attained a moderate level
of skill with ease, and gave her younger, slightly slower,
sister such grief that she forced herself to excellence,
leaving Alys jealous and resentful. Instead of learning
her sister's persistence, which would truly have made her
supreme in every field, she instead gave up as soon as Merri
surpassed her, moving on to find some new thing in which to
outshine her sister. There was but one exception; magic.
Alys had such natural talent that she worked sorceries
practically by instinct, needing little help from the tutor
her mother provided, seeing that, tutor or no, she would be
a spell-caster. Had Alys been as talented in almost any
other form of magic, her mother would probably have been
delighted at her skill, but sorcery, the dark and easy path
of magic, was her daughter's true delight.
Yet Merri also remembered that her sister had become a
Paladin, and that seemed much at odds with the early history
she remembered. She was still pondering this as she
returned to her tent for the night, Ailuros trailing not far
behind. She hoped that her sleep would bring more of her
past back to her, but her dreams, if any, were of an
ordinary, uneventful sort. She didn't mind, however, as she
woke the next day feeling very much refreshed. That day she
had no more revelations, but she finally felt the first
faint touch of the mind-speak working. As before, she sat
cross-legged before the Elder, attempting to contact him
with her mind, but eventually her attempt trailed off, as
did her thoughts, and she found herself just sitting there,
completely relaxed, not thinking of anything but enjoying
the pleasant afternoon. As she sat there in contemplation
of nothing, she felt a brief tug at the edges of her mind.
She reached out to catch it, but it was suddenly an effort,
a terrible strain. She reached out with her mind, pushing
at the self-imposed boundaries of her senses, and felt a
soft warm touch. 'Well done!' it wavered, 'Well done!'
Then the thin, tenuous link was shattered, sending Merri's
outstretched senses snapping back into her forcefully. When
she opened her eyes, she found that she had a wonderful
sense of accomplishment and a horrible headache. The Elder
offered her some wine, and she gratefully accepted, guzzling
the cool, tart liquid from the wooden bowl he set before
her.
"The pain is not uncommon." he said, "But the wine
seems to help. You have done much in a short time."
"But I was doing it all wrong before! Why didn't you
tell me?" Merri asked, her headache subsiding, replaced by
a warm cloudiness.
"Because you were making good mistakes, and the time
was well spent."
"Good mistakes?" Merri asked, curious.
"A good mistake is a mistake that you learn from.
Through your mistakes you found the correct method."
"Isn't there some other way to learn? It seems so...
so random."
"In a way it very much is random, but there is no
better way to learn. Indeed, almost all that has been done
by intelligent hands has been done in this manner. You
think a moment about what it is you wish to do, then you do
it. When you fail, as inevitably you sometimes will, then
you take what has worked and you try again. If in what you
have done there is nothing that works, then you begin anew."
"But that sounds like it could take forever!"
"Indeed it could. There are reasons, I think, that it
is so. Better to learn from your mistakes and find
discipline from your efforts than to have knowledge given to
you untempered by wisdom, for such is a source of great
danger. Take magic as your example. Those who seek
knowledge and power in wisdom find their way complicated and
difficult, while those who simply seek power and knowledge
as a goal find their way with ease. For everything there is
a price, however, and the lust for power is all-consuming,
as poor Elianthanis learned."
"Elianthanis? Who's he?" The Elder smiled, sensing
that the time was right to tell his tale.
"Ah, Elianthanis. My best and worst pupil." Merri saw
that this was going to be a long story, and settled back to
listen. "Since he was able to stir from the arms of his
maker, he was among the best of the Quicklings of our tribe.
As soon as he was able to grasp a quill, he would scratch
ideas in the dirt, or on scraps of cloth. He grew to be
strong and tall, and I soon discovered that he had a skill
in magic that was unparalleled among the Quicklings.
Perhaps this was his downfall. He was always inquisitive,
more even than his Quickling brethren, more so even than his
older tribesmen, the Seekers. He was always most interested
in hearing tales of the Old World, but he never accepted my
answers to his questions of why we could not return. When
he was but five decades old, and barely that, he began to go
on private treks into the surrounding jungle. The first
time he left in such a manner was after he attempted to
incite me to argument about the Old World, his favorite
subject. After I refused to show any signs of being
displeased with this world, he ran into the jungle, and was
not seen again for a few weeks. When he returned, he was
not the same. His skin was a golden shade, instead of the
faint pale color he had possessed. Even his hair was
different. Whereas it had been almost white, it was now
barely blond at all. When asked how he had come to be this
way, he said that he found a group of humans, who took him
to one of their secret places. He said that he saw a great
light, such as one rarely sees in the undergrowth, and all
became clear to him. He claimed that his new coloring was
the result of basking in this great, warm light. He said
that he understood my point of view, and that he would not
get angry again. The promises of a Quickling are soon
forgotten, so I paid little attention to this. It proved to
be true, however, and he never argued with me again. He
did, however, repeat his journeys through the dense
woodlands around us, and after a time, other Quicklings and
even a few Seekers joined him. When they returned, they
brought tales similar to that of Elianthanis, and they were
all a darker shade.
"This had only been going on for a few short decades
when Elianthanis discovered a couple of adventurous humans,
seeking the Six Stones of the Gods. They, like so many, had
been led to believe that one of the Stones was here.
Elianthanis brought them to me, and a time of festival
commenced, in honor of our guests. I sensed a latent
psionic skill in the girl, and tried to convince her to
remain and study with us, but she would not be deterred from
her quest. I attempted to warn her about playing the games
of the dieties, but she refused to heed my advice.
Elianthanis approached her, and told her that he knew how to
find what she sought, and she, her companion, and
Elianthanis vanished into the jungle. She returned alone
from the mountains, and I could sense that she had found
what she was seeking, for her body was outlined in a shining
white aura. She handed me a bundle, and I unwrapped it. It
was the Navian Blade, one of the most cursed of objects. I
told her that I would keep it, until the time when she would
need it. She looked surprised, but she did not speak.
Humans often believe that we have the ability to see the
future, because we can so often tell events in advance, but
this is not true. When you have lived for countless
centuries, seen empires rise and fall, and witnessed the
birth of the world, you, too, will learn to recognize the
paths mortals will follow. I could see that she would some
day return, but that now was not the proper time for her to
tell what had transpired. As Elianthanis did not return, I
came to know what happened from what the girl told us."
The elder switched from Elven to Eol Common, and his
entire manner changed as he quoted, "'We left in the night,
to avoid lengthy explanations. I apologize for my rudeness,
but at the time, I did not wish to be patient, and your ways
often seem... needlessly elaborate to humans, as you well
know. Elianthanis led us on a long trek through the forest,
to the base of a mountain. He took us to the sealed gate to
the dwarven warrens, and explained to us that there was no
entry by that door. He then led us to a small cave, hidden
by dense bushes, which connected at it's farthest end to one
of the inner passages. It seems likely to me, from the
nature of the opening, that the dwarves didn't connect the
passage to the cave intentionally. It probably opened
later, as the result of some disturbance. He led us inside,
and down several winding corridors, until we met another
group moving in the opposite direction. The group was
mostly made up of elves, who looked like Elianthanis, but
there were other things there, too, things that looked like
they should be elves, but weren't. Their skin was gray as
ash, and their eyes burned with a feverish glow. The dark
ones made strange hissing noises, and the largest looked at
us and licked his lips. He opened his mouth and even in the
dim torch-light we could see his jagged teeth. The elves
tried to hold the dark ones back, but they easily broke away
and ran toward us. Elianthanis laughed, and grabbed Marse.
"'This one is all I will need. My lady, I leave you to
the tender mercies of my cousins.' and he ran down a side
passage that I hadn't noticed. I was going to run after
him, but the largest elf-thing caught up with me first. He
was strong, and he soon had me pressed against the wall,
though he had a few marks to show for his trouble. He began
muttering strange sounds in a thick, halting voice, and I
think he tried to use a necromantic spell on me. I'm not
sure though, because my hand flew up of it's own accord, and
slapped his forehead. The symbol on my hand flared up
again, so brightly this time that I could see the glow
through my hand, showing the dark outline of my bones. The
creature before me didn't scream, didn't make any noise,
just fell to the ground and stayed there. I waited for the
burning in my hand to subside, and the glow to die down. It
didn't. I faced the others, and raised my hand in warning.
They all gaped in horror and ran back down the corridor from
which they came. Still my hand didn't stop glowing. I
guessed that the pain would stop of it's own accord when it
was ready to, so I started to head down the passage
Elianthanis had taken. Suddenly, something large and black
dropped from the ceiling above me. I held my hand up, and
the glow illuminated the most unholy creature I have ever
laid eyes on. It looked quite a bit like a spider, except
that no spider I know of grows that big, or has a human
looking head with pointed ears. The creature hissed and
drooled, and I knew that I had to kill it, if only to put it
out of its misery. It rushed to attack me, and I laid my
hand full upon it's head. The damn thing nearly took my arm
off when it tried to bite me. I was surprised that the glow
didn't destroy this creature as it had the other, but I
quickly switched to other methods, and drew my sword. The
creature was fast, but not too smart, and I soon parted
it's head from it's body. It bled black ichor, which
bubbled and hissed as it hit the stone floor.
"I carefully stepped over it's body, which was still
twitching, and continued down the passage. Fortunately, the
passage was surprisingly direct, with no side-tunnels, at
least none that I noticed, so there was no question of
taking a wrong turn. After several minutes of walking, I
arrived at a large central cavern. I looked around, and
found Elianthanis waiting in a pool of light, which streamed
down from a small hole far above in the ceiling of the
cavern. He was standing in the center of a large pattern,
identical to the mark on my hand, and he had Marse beside
him, unstruggling. I suddenly recognized the cavern as the
setting of my dream, and there in the center of the pattern
was the dagger, just as I'd seen in my dreams. Instead of a
medalion, however, the other end of the figure held the
Stone. Elianthanis, with his keen elven sight, noticed my
arrival.
'"I see you made it past my cousins. I am afraid that
you are too late, my dear." He held up his arm, and I saw a
large scabbed over slash, and I noticed a similar slash on
Marse's arm. Elianthanis kept talking, "As you see, I have
linked my life to that of your friend here. With every life
I sacrifice to the stone, I grow more powerful, and more
mortal. I shall give the gift of mortality to my people,
and they will hail me as their savior. Oh, some of them,
like the stupid village elder,"--I do beg your pardon sir,
but that's what he said--"may object. But the majority will
rejoice. All it takes is this crystal, and a dozen or so
human lives. It really does have to be human lives, you
see. I tried dwarves, letting some of my cousins sacrifice
them, but that worked poorly indeed.' I guessed that he was
talking about those gray things, or maybe the spider-
creature. "Still, they did become mortal, after a sort,
although given enough lives they could conceivably stay
alive indefinitely. Odd, don't you think, that after
becoming nearly mortal they should suddenly want to live
longer?" I moved toward him, and he motioned for me to stay
where I was. "My dear, you can't kill me. I told you, he
and I are linked. If you kill me, you kill him as well, and
I honestly don't think you'll do that." After he said that,
Marse opened his eyes again, and I saw there all the pain
he'd been hiding. I was told later about his lady, and how
she was killed. I never knew, he hid it so well.
'"He's right," Marse said, "You won't kill him. I
will!" and he snatched the dagger off the ground, and
stabbed Elianthanis with it. Elianthanis clutched his
wounded chest, and actually had the nerve to thank him. He
smiled, said "Forgive me," and died. Marse fell down,
clutching his chest, and the dagger fell from his hand. The
Stone blazed with new light, which lanced out to bathe him
in a hazy mist. He stopped clutching his chest, and lay on
the ground, unmoving. I ran over to him, and found that he
was dead, with no heartbeat, and not breathing. I knelt
beside his body and wept for his sacrifice. It was worse
than I thought, however, because he didn't remain dead for
very long.
'After what seemed like hours, he opened his eyes, and
stood. I scrambled away from him, knowing that the undead
know no friendship. He retrieved the dagger, ripped a large
section of his robe off, and wrapped the dagger in the
cloth. He handed the dagger to me, and told me to take it
to you, said you'd know what to do with it. He just looked
at me for a moment, then smiled a little half-smile. "I
have things I must attend to before we meet again. Our
paths diverge, but I'll catch up with you." he said, and
then he walked off into a dark passage, where gods know what
could have been waiting.
'Confused, I went to get the Stone. I entered the
shaft of light, and picked up the stone, and suddenly I was
awash in power! I felt the energy surge over me, expanding
outward to fill the corridor. The sunlight striking the
crystal became a beam of intense, blinding light, which
lanced out in all directions. I heard screams as it dazed
the creatures of darkness it had created. I felt the power
of the crystal washing my mind and will away, and I quickly
dropped it into a pocket of my robe. The feeling of power
faded, leaving me with an empty feeling, like I'd lost
something wonderful. My hand glowed white still after
touching the crystal, although this time the feeling was not
painful, and I used this light to find my way back out. I
then returned to your village, and the rest you know. I
should have listened to you, and to Marse. I am sorry,
Ancient One.'"
When he was done he brought out a small, cloth-wrapped
bundle, and presented it to her.
"This is the Navian Blade, of which I spoke. You have
returned for it, as I knew you would." Merri was most
surprised.
"Then... the woman in your story... that was me?"
"Yes. I thought it best to wait until you began to
remember on your own before I told you. I drew the
description of events from your mind." Merri nodded,
yawning.
"I understand. But why give this to me? I thought it
was--how did you put it?--'The most evil thing in all of
Creation'?"
"Ah, but things are never truly good or evil except in
their use and the power you give to them. The evil of this
blade is not the thing itself, but the dark force animating
it. Thus, I have reshaped it, and I give it to you. Where
before it was the Navian Blade, now I think perhaps it
should be called Starblade." He unwrapped the cloth and
showed her the ebony dagger, which was now flecked with
small sparkling points of light, seeming to be a cloudless
reflection of the night sky.
"Its curse will not tempt you, but it is a repository
of great power yet. When you leave, I think you might have
need of it." Merri accepted the gift with nodded thanks. A
short while later the strong wine had finished it's work,
and she was nodding again, this time in drowsiness. The
Elder sent her once again to her tent, his gift in hand.
When she was gone, the Elder smiled to find his hand covered
in the glitter-dust he'd coated the Navian Blade with.
Apparently the sticky sap he'd used to adhere it hadn't held
quite as well in some places as in others. He shrugged. So
long as she believed, it made no difference.
The next day she found herself unable to repeat her
earlier feat. The Elder chided her gently.
"You have already forgotten the lesson you learned
yesterday. There is an old fable, common to your people,
which tells of a quarrel between the brothers of Light and
Darkness. Nave, because he had a violent heart, believed
himself stronger than his gentler brother, and sought to
prove it. They had many contests between them, but Nave
could not prove himself the stronger, and when they looked
down from the skies above, they beheld an old dwarf,
struggling under a bag of ore, covered in an old cloak.
Nave challenged his brother, wagering that he could get the
cloak from the old dwarf and make him drop his ore. Evan
agreed to let him try. Nave brought the cold north winds to
bear on the unfortunate dwarf, and very nearly blew the
dwarf away, ore, cloak, and all. But the dwarf was a
stubborn fellow, even among his own folk, and he just pulled
his cloak around himself tighter and leaned into the wind.
For an hour, at least, the dwarf battled the wind, until
Nave finally gave up. But Nave was impressed with the
dwarf, and he was certain that his brother could not coerce
him into removing the cloak or setting down the ore. But
Evan swept the clouds aside, and his mighty light shone down
upon the dwarf. He sent the spring birds to sing, and
caused sweet-smelling flowers to bloom in the meadows and
vales along the road. Soon the dwarf grew hot, and began to
look from his heavy load to the inviting meadows. He gave
in to the temptation, carefully laying his ore and cloak
aside to lay in the sweet grass and listen to the birds
sing. Thus, you see, the moral is that the most obvious
effort is not always the most effective." The elf paused
for a moment, as though considering something. "Some say
that there is more to the fable. The dwarf was swallowed by
the earth, because of the wrath Nave showed at his defeat.
He was tormented and twisted, and made into the first
goblin. Thus, the second moral; In a contest between gods,
mortals are never the victors. Of course, all this is mere
fable and folklore." He saw that she was still listening
dutifully, but she'd lost the point of his lecture long ago.
He sighed. "My meaning is that you should not try so hard.
Think on what happened yesterday, and you will understand."
Merri nodded and closed her eyes again.
Instead of trying to force her concentration, she
relaxed, turning her attention first to the feeling of the
air around her and the ground beneath her, and then allowing
it to wander where it would. It was hours later when she
found herself in the middle of a conversation with the
Elder, though she'd not spoken a word. As soon as she
became aware of it, however, it again became a struggle, to
think about what she wanted to say and then send it, all the
while keeping her mind open to receive the Elder's thoughts.
She managed slightly better than the last time, realizing
that her endurance was at it's limits and severing the
connection voluntarily, more gently than the shattering of
before. Still, she had a headache again, though a mild one.
What was more frustrating, however, was that she couldn't
for the life of her remember what she'd been mind-speaking
to the Elder.
"Um... I know this may sound strange, but what did I
say to you?" The Elder chuckled.
"Everything you thought, you sent to me. You have a
most poetic heart, Merrideth Doomslayer, and elegant
thoughts."
"What did I think of? I don't recall."
"That is also not unusual. You have learned to empty
your mind and receive my thoughts, and to send your thoughts
back to me, but when you empty your mind you lose all sense
of time, of self. That is very much a beautiful thing, most
difficult for a mortal. For the time that it lasted, you
were free of worry for the past or the future."
"And that is a great thing? I don't understand."
"It is almost elven philosophy, my dear child. There
is a saying that I have grown fond of, though oddly it was a
mortal man that spoke it. Ah, but such a mortal he was! He
was twice blessed; Once by being born mortal and second by
not realizing it. He said: "No matter the hour, the day,
the year, or the age, all time is Now." So it was with you,
for a brief time. There are those of the great creatures of
magic that exist totally in this way. They live by
instinct, having neither memory nor conception of the
future, merely enjoying life as it happens. Soon you will
learn to mind-speak without using all of your mind at once,
and the need for the emptiness will pass. You may find,
however, that while the need passes, the desire for the
emptiness remains. It is a good thing, if not misused."
Merri nodded, though the thought of leaving herself so open
was a frightening one.
Thus the days passed quickly. There were many storms,
though it was not the season for them, which sometimes sent
some of the less secure tents swinging and twirling in the
branches, but which the elves otherwise showed little
concern for. Merri's flashes of remembrance gradually
diminished as her memory became more complete, but she found
that she still could not remember how she'd come to the
island, or fill in certain areas of her youth. However, she
soon began to feel whole again, or at the very least less
like her mind was a sieve. She began learning the mind-
touch, and after that the mind-fire. She learned to hone
her instincts and grasp knowledge from the flow of
information around her, so that it seemed she could see what
was happening a half-moment before it occurred. The elves
provided her with an old, slightly rusted sword, which she
polished and sharpened until it seemed almost to shine of
its own accord, not just from the reflected light of the
sun. With this, she practiced as her father had shown her
all those years ago, parry, thrust, parry, dancing with the
bright metal against an invisible opponent.
Throughout these labors, Ailuros was her constant
companion, as always, the sight of his black fur and the
feel of his gentle, savage mind a comfort. By the end of
the next week, she found herself admitting that the Elder
had been right. While she no longer truly needed to have
the emptiness of mind to work the mind-powers, she found
herself seeking an hour of quiet and peace each night, but
she knew that she was vulnerable while enjoying this luxury.
She spoke to the Elder, who had anticipated her concerns.
The next day, he began teaching her the fine art of
shielding herself, first mentally and then, more
laboriously, physically. He taught her to visualize
everything at first, to picture in her mind what she wanted,
so that she could obtain a finer degree of control. When he
taught her shielding, she imagined a shining silver wall
around herself, a bright place of peace and solitude.
Later, as she became more skilled at shaping her
images, she expanded the wall, so that it encircled a large
field, with thick, soft grass to sit on. Soon the Elder had
her pushing the walls outward, simultaneously expanding her
physical and super-physical perceptions and forming a
barrier around herself with the mind-touch. The mind-touch
was a difficult thing to master, requiring much
concentration to even lightly brush across a thing near her,
and forming the barrier around herself proved problematic.
When she finally managed it, though, she was well rewarded,
for the field rapidly became an extension of her normal
body, and she found that it had a multitude of uses.
Meanwhile, she began to remember her quest, and the
events that led up to her departure from that quest. She
blushed with shame as she remembered the way she'd treated
Marse, but she found that she still could not recall
anything afterward. She remembered now the rush of power,
overwhelming her rational thoughts, and she remembered
rising into the air, and flying at incredible speeds. But
she didn't recall where she'd flown, or why, or how she'd
come to be wandering the forests. When she asked the Elder,
he merely shrugged and told her that the time leading to
whatever had caused her to lose her wits would likely be a
mystery for a long while yet. He did, however, offer to
help her regain the other parts of her lost memory, for
there was no reason that they should yet elude her. She
agreed, and opened her mind to his touch.
All she felt there was a small laugh. "No, no," he
said, when he sensed her confusion, "I will help you, as I
said. I was laughing at the readiness you show to open
yourself. There was a time not long ago when such a thing
would have struck you with horror." She shrugged. Things
had changed. "But, I will not help you in that way. You
should know that well enough by now. I will not do for you
what I can teach you to do for yourself." Inwardly, Merri
groaned, seeing more rigorous training sessions ahead.
She was most correct, as it turned out. The Elder had
her visualize her memory as a vast library, and then sent
her to track down obscure information. She found that, with
practice, the information came more quickly, until it seemed
as though there was no time spent searching at all. The
Elder then explained that there were pages, chapters,
perhaps entire books missing from the library, jarred from
the shelves and hidden away in dusty corners. He told her
that she must search the library in her mind, and he warned
her that many of the things she found in those dusty corners
would be unpleasant. Then he surprised her by bidding her
farewell.
"What? But... I've barely even begun to learn the
things you've set me to, and I still don't remember
everything!"
"That is true, most especially the first, but the time
has come for our parting. It will take you much time to get
to where you must go. Your training will continue itself
without my guidance." The ancient, pale elf stood slowly
and stiffly, and bowed to her. "Merrideth Doomslayer, you
have the knowledge you need to guide yourself. To remain
with me would be a hindrance. You have just begun to learn,
it is true, but you are a child no more. Arise, Seeker,
for your days as a Quickling are over." Merri nodded,
slowly. "How much you have changed, youngling. Not long
ago, you would have rushed off, glad to be free of my long-
windedness."
Merri felt her face grow slightly warm at the memory.
"No, youngling, you need not be embarrassed. You have grown
much since then."
'Yes,' came a thought from Ailuros, listening in at
Merri's side, 'And I have grown... grown very, very weary of
being here. Come on, golden one, let us leave while we
can!' The Elder broke out laughing, for once not the dry
cough that he usually gave, but a deeper, more solid sound,
as his entire body shook with mirth. Ailuros hadn't
realized that the Elder had been listening to their mind-
speak, and his caught expression was so amusing that Merri
joined the Elder in laughing. The panther looked from one
to the other in disgust for a moment. 'Oh, Hells,' the
panther sent, after watching them laugh, 'I guess it is a
little bit funny.' His laughter echoed through their minds
as theirs echoed through the forest.
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