Chronicles of Galadria III - Lessons Page 9

  “You found me, Glaide,” Kezthrem said softly. “I was nothing more than a shadow to chase, until you decided to make finding me a reality.”

  The young man tried to decipher the serious and unreadable face of his master, and a small smile slipped onto his lips. “Nothing is lost as long as I have this man by my side,” he thought, and that realization, along with the words of Kezthrem, fanned the spark of optimism that never left him. “Of course, it would have been too easy if the weapon had just fallen into my hands like that. I still have to finish my training, and find Emily, Jeremy, and Gwenn, and then the four of us can go looking for the katana together, since I can’t expect to wield any great power without it.”

  He realized then how astonishingly out of character his thoughts of a few moments before actually had been. He’d been thinking only about his mission, and had forgotten his desire to discover this world. That realization made him think. Was he coming to see Galadria as its own world, and no longer as some kind of illusion? Was he finally truly experiencing the joy and pain of the life around him, like he had his own life on Earth? He couldn’t say for sure, but it was certain that, though he was still happy and excited about everything that he saw and experienced, he was also finally beginning to grasp that his future would really be taking place in this world.

  It was then that the words Baras had spoken near Fyth came back to mind. “If you want to help those of this world, sooner or later you will have to accept the life you’re now living, and to realize that this isn’t a dream.” Yes, he would have to understand that all of this was real. That was what the four of them had been missing before. But now, things were changing, and Glaide realized, too, that he now looked at the problems he faced with increased lucidity. However—and a shiver went down his spine at the sole thought of it—Baras had also added, “And that day, you will taste the fear that envelopes the inhabitants of this world.”

  “And he was right,” the boy murmured. “When I am truly conscious of what has happened to me, my enemy will appear much more the stuff of nightmares. Even today, I’m unable to completely comprehend all of the carnage and destruction he’s caused. It leaves me feeling somehow indifferent. But if this changes, then I too will come to fear him.... No, I have to finish this before I come to that point.”

  He raised his head at that, and decided to explore the room a little. The weapon might not be there, but that didn’t prevent him from examining the place where it had been kept for so many years. Against the wall, elaborate engraved frescoes represented battles between gigantic armies and paintings were hung honoring the many races of Galadria, its celebrations, and other special events, such as the construction of the temple. In almost every image, Glaide found that two silhouettes recurred, over and over. He decided finally that they must be Novak and Dzen.

  The altar where the katana would have been found was made of white stone. It bore no decorations, so that it almost seemed to jar, by its very simplicity, with everything around it. The room was also filled with many other objects, including many mysterious ancient artifacts. The young man couldn’t count how many different rings and pendants were present. He noticed that some objects were carefully laid out on a shelf, and appeared to be carefully and consistently cleaned. They drew his attention. Besides a few knives with blades that gleamed despite their age, he noticed books with dark covers. He didn’t have time to inspect them, however, because he soon heard the voice of Ralon from behind him.

  “I’m sorry, Glaide. If we had known you were coming, we would have asked the man to stay a few more days, so that you could meet him. But now, who knows where that blade could be?”

  “That’s okay, Ralon,” the boy replied with a sad smile. “Thank you.”

  “I can do nothing but suggest that you go out and search for him,” continued the man. “Perhaps your paths will cross.”

  “I can’t take any more searching,” he thought to himself bitterly. Aloud, he said, “We’ll see. In the meantime, I don’t want to waste any time. If I can’t wield that weapon myself, for now, I can at least learn more about what it is capable of.”

  “That’s true,” the monk agreed, his spirits seeming to rise again. “Could I help you with that?”

  “Well, I would like to know what can be found in all of these books,” he said, motioning the books that he had seen shortly before.

  “Ah, you mean the Writings of the New Age! There are quite a number of books in the collection, several of which were copied and those copies transferred to Shinozuka. Unfortunately, it was mostly the less interesting ones, and their collection is by no means complete. However, what you see before you is the complete and original version. They were written by Dzen and Novak. They recount all of their adventures and discoveries, as well as many very precise explanations on how to use this or that weapon, and Iretane in general.”

  “And do they mention the katana?”

  “They are the source of all our knowledge of it.”

  “Tell me everything,” the young man demanded, feeling his excitement grow inside him once again. He knew that knowing everything that had slipped out of his grasp would make it that much worse, but his curiosity was stronger than his fear. Ralon suggested that they settle in in the garden that they had passed through just before, on their way to the pagoda. Accompanied by Kezthrem and Koeris, they went back down the stairs and through the forest. This time, Glaide noticed that the trees seemed tinted blue in the shadows. Sometimes, he felt like the light was being reflected by some type of crystal. He didn’t delay, however, and soon the small group was seated around a stone table, except for Koeris, who excused himself. He had many things to do, and it would only take one person to explain everything that they had to say. And so, Ralon, Kezthrem, and Glaide sat there amidst the flowers, bushes, and plants.

  Chapter 12

  “WHAT do you know about the katana?” the monk asked suddenly.

  The adolescent thought for a moment before replying.

  “Practically nothing, actually. My master explained that it has the same properties of the weapons of Iretane’s disciples. By that, I mean it is able to take in the hatred of a protector after it has been transformed into white magic by a magg, or an eoren of light.”

  “Mmm, yes, that’s the basic idea,” murmured Ralon, “but it’s a bit more complicated than that. Let’s begin at the beginning. The saber that Dzen wielded was held in a dark red sheath. The material that the hilt was made of was the same color, while the guard and the plates of metal reinforcing the different points on the sheath were made of gold.”

  Without really knowing why, the young man felt like that description was somehow familiar. He was sure that he had never seen the weapon, but the red and gold colors seemed to ring a bell deep within his mind. Suddenly, he remembered where he had seen that combination before: in the throne room of the Tower of Dawn! He saw the scene in his mind’s eye with a clarity that surprised him: he and his three friends were being conducted into the room by the soldier from Rackk, who they’d just told about the destruction of his village. They were entering the room where Rozak sat. On the walls hung red tapestries embroidered with a katana of gold. Thinking back, Glaide was sure that no one there remembered what they symbolized. It had simply become a symbol whose origins had long been lost. Ralon continued, and his words pulled the boy back to reality.

  “The saber was a present from the stranger who brought Iretane to his first disciple, Dzen. Dzen was never able to learn where his master came from, or if he did, he never spoke of it to anyone. In the end, that doesn’t matter. The important things were the weapon and the technique. Dzen wrote that the katana could be considered that of Aras himself.”

  At that, Glaide’s heart skipped a beat.

  “The weapon of a god?” he exclaimed. “How is that possible? What does that mean?”

  “The man was probably an adventurer who, somewhere within the borders of the Known Lands, had been able to find the saber. It is possible that, cen
turies earlier, the gods had lived in our world. We don’t know what is found beyond the mountains of the dwarves and the forest of the elves, and there are many secrets contained within Galadria that we know nothing about. Novak, too, or Bren as he was called at the time, came from beyond the Known Lands, and to this day, he is admired for his mastery of many weapons.”

  “Is there any mention of where he actually came from? Did he ever reveal where he learned to fight so well?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” sighed the man. “It seems that Dzen himself never learned how his friend arrived in our lands. In the end, however, the ancestor of your master wound up with the katana. You should know that he only used it briefly. He had already forged two swords, yours and Kezthrem’s, and after he vanquished Baras, he constructed this temple to hold the saber.”

  “And why did he do that?”

  “Hmmm... Dzen never said exactly, but it seemed like he thought the weapon could be a danger.”

  At that moment, a monk arrived with some refreshments, and Glaide took advantage of the time to look around a little bit. There were many different plants there, so close together that they almost seemed to form walls. They seemed to be very healthy. Trees and shrubs were spaced along the walkway at regular intervals, and benches were scattered throughout the area. With their thirst quenched, Ralon continued his tale.

  “So, where were we? Oh, right, the katana...”

  “Can you tell me a bit more about what it can do?” asked the young man, his attention immediately captured once again.

  “Of course! As I mentioned before, everything that we know comes from Dzen’s writings, and this is what he had to say about the weapon: first of all, there were two main aspects of how it could be used. He mentioned a number of special capabilities that existed in the sword at all times, and in another section, he explained in great detail how the weapon worked with white magic and Iretane. Which one should I start with?”

  “How about with the special capabilities?” suggested the young man at random, before glancing at his master, who nodded in agreement.

  “Of course. The main one is very simple, really. Although it has a capacity much like the swords of protectors, as I’ll explain in a few minutes, the katana is very different. Dzen maintained that it was impossible to make it appear and disappear at will, as you can do with your own sword. It is said that when you forge your weapon, which you weren’t able to do, unfortunately, the God of Good gives it some of his light, conferring all of the necessary power for that into your work. In this case, however, none of that applies, and according to the ancestor of your master, the sword instead answered to the mental force of its carrier. It could be called to its owner if it was out of reach, but who it would serve depended on who was capable of psychologically dominating their adversary.”

  “The weapon only offers its power to someone who is strong enough to master it,” finished Kezthrem. The monk nodded.

  “It is also said,” he continued, “that if one of Baras’ creatures were to try to seize it, they would immediately be struck down.”

  “Hmm,” murmured Glaide. “And did Dzen say anything more about that?”

  “He gave countless examples of incredible things it could do, but I cannot list them all. However, he also added that it was possible the katana had many more secrets, and he encouraged any that wielded it to look for them.”

  “Are there any other weapons that have any of those capabilities?”

  “Absolutely not. Any blade, old or new, can take in magic thanks to mages or eorens, but none of them contain any powers of their own. However, perhaps objects from the very border of the Known Lands—or beyond—do?” The boy nodded thoughtfully. “So, then, we should talk about eorens. Let me explain why they were created.”

  “You know, Ralon?” Kezthrem asked, visibly surprised.

  “Didn’t I ever tell you that? That’s surprising. I suppose you simply never asked,” replied the monk, winking at the master of Iretane. “Whatever the case, you’ll hear about it now. Once upon a time, long before Dzen and Novak, and perhaps even before the first dwarves, elves, and dragons walked on this earth, mages with incredible powers existed. They probably weren’t humans, or part of any of the races we know, but it is certain that their mastery of magic far surpassed our own. It is possible that the katana was forged in that time, but that’s not important for now. These beings lived in a gigantic fortress. It seems that was the only place they ever lived. They never left it, and never travelled.”

  “That seems crazy,” exclaimed Glaide. “How would they have found food? Or more importantly, how could they even all fit in there?”

  Ralon laughed a little. “You don’t understand. I’m talking about a place that had gardens, where cattle could roam freely, and where the inhabitants had all the space they needed. There weren’t many of them, and the fortress was a village of sorts.”

  “Many people have recounted this same story to me,” interrupted Kezthrem. “They added that the orks and all of the scourge like them were also released in that time.”

  “Many theories on the subject exist,” the monk declared. “According to some, these individuals made a mistake and let these creatures that you know so well into our world. Others believe that they had always existed and lived on Galadria, and it was only during that time period that they made themselves known and attacked the fortress.”

  The adolescent tried to picture everything they were telling him, but the story of this castle and the beings with incredible powers left him feeling a bit bewildered.

  “The divergences between the stories aren’t important,” continued Ralon. “In any case, everyone agrees on one thing. Eorens were created to limit how magic could be used.”

  “You mean that our predecessors tried to find a way to isolate the magical flux so that their enemies couldn’t use it?” asked the young man. Ralon nodded.

  “With their knowledge, they were able to do things we could never dream of, and so appeared those great spheres that we call ‘eorens’.”

  “So that’s where they came from...” murmured Kezthrem.

  An idea suddenly crossed Glaide’s mind, and he hurried to share it.

  “So, in the end, those mages were able to isolate the magical flux, and draw it out of the planet. So that means that before, when they were living in peace, the amount of magic in Galadria must have been enormous!”

  “Absolutely. And that is why we can’t even attempt to comprehend all of the possibilities that magic offered in that time. We believe that Iretane, and the way that maggs can transfer their power into the weapons of protectors, are the closest things we have to the powers of the past, though they’re just an inferior shell in comparison.”

  “Amazing,” Glaide murmured in admiration.

  By then, the afternoon was drawing to a close, and Ralon had not yet finished his tale. The young man still wanted to know more about that legendary weapon—the katana of Dzen, the first Destroyer—and the monk had many more things to tell. He called for a snack to tide them over, because they would certainly not have time to eat until the evening meal was long over. One of the novices brought in some cold cuts, fruit, and bread. He was followed by Koeris, who needed a change of scenery. His brethren who were in charge of translating the manuscript of invocation had been working hard since he’d brought it to them, but they’d made no progress, and kept asking the monk to describe where he had found it, and to recount every last detail of his journey.

  “They want to write down everything I did,” he said with a sigh. “That way, they’ll be able to consult my words whenever they need to. But for now, they keep making me repeat the same things, over and over!”

  “How long do you think it will be before they’ll be able to make use of the power?” asked Kezthrem.

  “From their first estimations, I think it will take years and years. They want to start by making a number of copies, then putting the original in a safe place. Then, they have to decipher all
of the writing and find out who created it and when. If it was an elf or a dwarf, it might not be too hard, but that’s not likely. Then, they’ll have to consult with the king and the master mage, and only then will they be able to try to use it.”

  “So in other words, we’ll have to be very patient,” Glaide interjected with a laugh.

  Another monk arrived then. He informed Koeris that he was needed urgently. Koeris got up, rolled his eyes toward the sky so dramatically that the young man couldn’t help but laugh, then followed the other man grumpily. The conversation had been short, and there was still some food left. The adolescent reached for a pear and, as he bit into it, he let his thoughts drift.

  He still felt anger tugging at his heart at the idea that he would not be able to hold the saber, and his frustration grew the more he learned about the incredible powers of the weapon. But the singing of the birds, and the soft breeze shifting around him helped those feelings fade.

  He looked around and noticed just how marvelous the architecture of this place really was. Besides the many bas-reliefs and frescos on the walls, the pillars, and the bridges, the very way the structures were combined and connected left him speechless. The walkways connecting the guard towers, the main tower, and the parapets, and the main building itself, with all of its walkways leading to structures against the mountain and in the midst of the trees... The immense staircase in front of the main building was impressive in its own right, as was the main gate. He realized suddenly that he and his master had only been there since the day before, but he already felt relaxed and at ease here. Just like in Kezthrem’s dojo, this place had a calm and reassuring air about it.

  Chapter 13

  “LET’S walk for a bit,” Ralon exclaimed. “I still need to explain how the katana connects to white magic and the Destroyer, but there is no need to stay sitting. Why don’t we explore the temple a bit as we talk?”