Tales of Eternity, page 13
part #1 of Chronicles of Eternity Series
After checking out their living quarters, Razja and Alya decided to find where they would take their meals. They discovered a wide chamber on the other side of the hall that was mostly empty. A few younger magi sat at some of the low tables, speaking in hushed voices with several elders. The walls were lined with heavy silk tapestries embroidered with scrawling golden runes, and on the far side there was an enormous kitchen, which filled the room with the spicy smell of curry and the fragrant scent of baking flat bread.
Her mouth watered as she made her way inside. It was not yet time for supper, but she found that the long walk to the tower had made her famished.
The pair sat down at a table and began to chat amiably, sharing stories of their childhoods and becoming fast friends.
Alya, like Razja, had been an orphan, growing up in the city of Kaar and living her life as little more than a slave. When she had discovered that she had the gift - the ability to touch the aether and control magic - she had immediately become an apprentice to learn the ways of the magi. Now that she was here, she was both anxious and excited to join the ranks of the mysterious magic users of Amun'Dar.
The conversation warmed Razja. It was good to know that she had someone with whom she could relate. It had been a long, lonely journey coming to this point in her life, and she had never really had a friend that she could rely on.
She could tell that Alya felt the same way about her.
They laughed and spoke dreamily of their aspirations, idling away the hours until eventually they lost track of time. Their laughter drew the looks of others in the room, who watched the two of them with dark, haunted eyes. Razja did her best to ignore the onlookers. Why should she feel uncomfortable because she had found a friend?
As they chatted, the door to the meal hall opened, admitting three men with bushy black beards and flowing red robes. They took seats at a nearby table and stole glances at the two of them over their shoulders. Eventually, one of the men got up and made his way over to them, looming over their table with a grim expression on his face.
"New blood," he observed in a gruff tone. "Must be. Your mudari would have you whipped if he knew you were wasting the afternoon in here."
Razja and Alya looked at each other uncertainly, unsure of how to react to the stranger's presence.
"Well, speak up," the man barked, heavy brows furrowing. "Surely the pair of you aren't mutes."
"I'm sorry," Razja said, flushing, "I'm not sure what you mean."
The man crossed his arms and frowned at them. "I take it you haven't met your mudari yet."
Both of them shook their heads.
"The mudari are elder magi," he explained, speaking in a rough, condescending tone. "Your teachers. It will be they who will put you to work and show you how to properly use your powers."
"We know how to cast spells," Razja said, a bit more defensively than she intended.
This made the other men at the nearby table snicker.
"We aren't common sorcerers," the man standing over them explained. "We are the most powerful magic users in the world. Our power doesn't just come from the aether. It comes from... other sources." He smirked. "You'll learn about that soon enough, though."
"Hey," one of the other men called derisively. "Why were the two of you smiling when we came in?"
Neither of them answered.
"They're new blood, Sheik," the bearded man said. "They don't know any better."
Sheik chortled. "Give it a day or two, girl. You'll forget how to smile after too long."
The bearded man looked them over one last time before snorting and going back to his fellows. They left them alone after that.
For a time, Razja and Alya merely sat there, staring at their hands while the low buzz of conversation picked back up in the room. Razja could feel that her cheeks were burning, and she felt foolish for having been so intimidated by the rudeness of the men. You're just as much a magi as they are, she thought. You should have stood up for yourself. Finally, it was Alya who broke the silence, her voice sounding small and tremulous.
"What do you think they meant?" she asked, expression concerned.
Razja forced a look of nonchalance and shrugged. "They're probably just trying to intimidate us. From my experience, men are threatened when they meet women just as powerful as they are."
Alya smiled and nodded, though she did not seem entirely convinced. In truth, Razja was just as confused as she was by their words. What would give them cause to forget how to smile? What source of power was the bearded man referring to? These questions nagged at her, and she had a sinking feeling that she was not going to like the answers she found.
They picked their conversation back up where they had left off, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. The two of them spoke in lowered voices about their pasts and what they hoped for in the future, promising that they would look out for one another in the days to come. They spoke amiably until one of the cooks announced that it was supper, and then they got in line with the others.
The meal chamber quickly became packed, filling with groups of magi of varying ages. There were many different colors of robes in the room, and Razja did not know what that meant, though she suspected that those she saw only represented a small fraction of the tower's total population.
Unlike the reception they had received from the older magi, the food was delightful. She ate seasoned chicken with rice and orange curry, oiled flatbreads and juicy dates, all washed down with delicious imported wine. When she was done, her head was spinning, as much from the strenuous day as from the drink.
Razja nodded and spoke with some of the other 'new bloods' she recognized in the room, but none were as friendly as Alya. She spent much of the evening close to her side, not wanting to be alone with so many strangers.
After supper, she and Alya left the meal hall, retreating to their rooms to get an early night. They chose sleeping chambers that were adjacent to one another, and embraced when they bade each other good night.
"I'm glad that you are here," Alya said as she hugged her. "Truth be told, I've never been so afraid in my entire life."
"Me too," Razja answered, clinging to her newfound friend.
When she finally made it into her room, she let out a long, drawn-out breath. She was exhausted from the emotional stress of the day, and was eager to curl up and go to sleep. Even so, she could not help but feel uneasy about living in the Tower of Amun'Dar.
She looked down at the bracers on her wrists. They were heavy, but at the same time they were already starting to feel comfortable - like they had become an extension of herself.
Frowning, she undid the clasps and took the bracers off, feeling a distinct difference when they were no longer touching her skin. She felt weaker, less aware, like the color had been sucked out of the world, and when she set them aside, it was like she was leaving a part of herself behind.
Exhausted, she quickly undressed and made her way over to the bedroll. A glowing crystal lamp illuminated the room in one of the corners, but she did not want to cover it. Somehow, she did not feel safe sleeping in the darkness. She wanted the warm companionship of the light.
Curling up, she tried not to cry as she tried to go to sleep. Everything was different now, but she was still the same person. She was still strong.
The tears came anyway.
Chapter Three
Razja had the dream again.
She was standing on top of the Tower of Amun'Dar, staring out at the sea of dunes under a sprawling black sky. The sun was a pinprick of light overhead, a single star on a field of darkness, and yet she could see for miles, her vision unobstructed as if it were daytime.
As she stood there, the wind tugging at her robes, she felt like she was being watched. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as if a pair of eyes was looking her up and down, probing her from somewhere very far away.
Part of her knew she was dreaming. It was always the same. Eventually she would hear the voice, and after a brief and confusing exchange, she would wake up in her bed just before dawn.
The strange scene unnerved her all the same.
She turned and cast her eyes about, searching the desolate landscape for signs of life. As always, the dunes were barren, dusty mounds completely devoid of plants or animals. The circle of tents that usually surrounded the tower was gone, and in its place there was only dry, hard-packed earth, trampled by hundreds of feet that were no longer there.
She took a deep breath and sighed, shifting uncomfortably on her perch, her vambraces a heavy weight on her arms.
"Why am I here?" she called to the winds. "I've stood here every night for the last month, and I do not know why."
It was a vain effort, she knew. Every night she asked, and every night, she received no answers. Razja had never put much emphasis on dreams. The priests all claimed that Shir'aliik spoke to his people through dreams, sometimes, but had never known someone who claimed to have visions. Perhaps this was her mind coping with the changes in her life. Perhaps this dream was a way that her subconscious dealt with her apprehension and fear of the Tower of Amun'Dar. She was not sure. The only thing she was sure of was that the constant dreaming was growing wearisome, and that she would prefer to have her sleep uninterrupted.
A voice suddenly boomed over the desolate expanse, shaking the foundations of the tower beneath her feet. Razja Kadir, you have been called! Fear not, for I will guide you.
"Ah, yes," she mused, rolling her eyes. "The voice of God. How original. Go on, then, give me your message so I can hurry and wake up."
There was a pause, and Razja crossed her arms impatiently in front of her.
Then, the voice spoke again. I am no god, Razja Kadir. Nevertheless, you have been chosen. The path you now walk will only bring you misery and pain. You were meant for greater things. The lives of millions will depend on your choices in the coming days. Take care to choose wisely.
She started. This was the first time the voice had answered her. Was it actually going to respond to her questions this time?
"Who are you, then?" she asked, gazing out at the sprawling desert before her.
I am but a guardian, meant to show you the way.
She gasped and doubled over, suddenly overtaken but an unseen force. It gripped her entire body and forced its way into her mind, causing every part of her to tremble from the pressure. Images flashed before her eyes, impressing memories like a brand searing a slave's flesh. She saw the halls of the tower, winding downward with dizzying speed until she was in the bowels of Amun'Dar. There, she saw a hidden chamber, guarded by a hideous beast with glowing green eyes. Sitting upon a pedestal, Razja saw a ruby larger than any precious stone she had ever seen. It was cut in the shape of a heart, and seemed to shimmer with a red inner light.
Find the stone, the voice admonished, booming loudly in her skull. Bring it to me. Travel west of the Great Mountains, and save Thel'Varden from utter destruction.
As quickly as it had taken her, the unseen force vanished, leaving her quivering on the flat top of the tower like a newborn child. She pushed herself to her feet and opened her mouth to shout a final question at the voice.
Then everything went black.
SHE AWOKE TO THE SOFT glowing light of a Porter in her room. "It is time to wake up," it said with a dull, emotionless tone.
Despite herself, Razja screamed and pulled the blanket up to her neck to cover her naked body.
The Porter seemed oblivious to her outburst. It floated in the air above her, humming softly with pulses of magical energy. "Your mudari will be waiting for you on the seventh level, in room 745. You have one hour to dress and eat. Good day." With that, it left her, passing through the wooden door as if it were made of nothing at all.
For a moment, Razja just laid there, heart pounding as she stared up at the grayish stone ceiling of her room. The dream was still fresh in her mind, and she thought she could see the heart-shaped image of the ruby in front of her, glowing with a mysterious crimson light. The voice echoed in her thoughts, urgent and commanding. Razja Kadir, you have been called!
"The dream was different this time", she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and suppressing a shiver. "What does it mean?"
Save Thel'Varden from utter destruction.
That last bit sounded important, but her muddled mind was completely incapable of understanding puzzling it out. Now, she needed to get ready for her first day as a magi of Amun'Dar.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she got out of her bed roll and began getting ready, selecting a new set of robes from the basket and splashing water on her face. Using her fingers like a brush, she quickly untangled the knots from her hair, then moved to replace the bracers on her forearms, sighing contentedly as a surge of magical awareness spread throughout her entire body. The entire process only took a few moments, and when she was ready, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves and stepped outside.
The meal chamber was bustling, just as it had been the day before during supper. Groups of magi spoke quietly with one another as they accepted meals of boiled rice and fruit from the cooks.
Alya was there, and Razja quickly went to wait in line beside her.
"What group are you in?" Alya asked, looking equal parts nervous and excited.
"I'm not sure," Razja replied. "But the Porter told me to report to the room 745."
Alya's eyes lit up. "Me too!"
Relief washed over Razja. "That's good. I'm glad that I won't have to be alone today."
They ate their meal quickly, using wooden spoons to scoop the mushy food out of their plain wooden bowls. Razja barely tasted it though, as she was focused on what lay ahead.
Once finished, they left the meal hall and began making their way to the seventh level. Winding stairwells took them higher in the tower, and they passed magi and Porters on their way.
The rooms on the seventh level were marked by numbers carved into the pale stone. This made it easy to locate their own room: number 745.
Inside, they found a handful of other magi of varying ages, all sitting on mats on the floor in a wide circle. Razja and Alya took their places on the two remaining empty mats, and soon after, a tall man in ornate robes entered the room, his short beard neatly trimmed and oiled.
"My name is Abjurer Fahim," he said in a smooth, deep voice. "For the foreseeable future, I will be your mudari. My purpose is to show you the secrets of our sacred order, and to develop you so that one day you might become Abjurers as well. Some of you are old students, some of you are not. For those of you who are new to the order of the magi, do you have any questions for me?"
Nobody spoke up. All eyes remained glued on the Abjurer.
"Good," he said, nodding his head as if the silence was expected. "Now, it is my privilege to teach the first lesson of Amun'Dar. I will unveil to you the greatest secret of our order - the sole reason we are the greatest magic users on the face of Thel'Varden." He clapped his hands, prompting a door near the back of the room to open.
In walked a frail young woman dressed in rags. She wore a slave collar around her neck, and her sunken eyes darted about in fear. Two magi flanked her on either side, their copper bracers glowing and their fingers ready to cast a spell at a moment's notice.
Razja looked sympathetically at the slave girl. She had always hated slavery. Aside from the barbaric lands of Vjolstek, Kaarna was the only place in the world where it was still practiced. Even though she had been a street urchin, Razja was spared the horrible fate of living life as a slave. Young men were used for labor or fighting in the gladiatorial pits of Kaar, but the young women... they were often sold to harems or pleasure houses, abused by those with money and then discarded.
Why is she here? Razja wondered, watching as the poor woman shuffled over to stand before Abjurer Fahim.
"Behold," the Abjurer intoned, motioning grandly with one hand. "The price we pay for power!"
Reaching into the folds of his robes, he drew out a long-bladed dagger studded with gemstones. He moved faster than the slave could react, and in one smooth motion, slid the blade across her throat, opening wide, red gash.
Alya screamed, and the slave girl staggered, blood spraying out from the wound on her neck. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and a second later she collapsed, falling dead to the floor.
Abjurer Fahim held up both of his hands, now stained with the slave woman's blood. He began to chant, speaking in an arcane language that Razja only vaguely recognized. His bracers began to glow a violent red, and tendrils of spiderweb-like lightning crackled up his arms. "You may know spells, new bloods, but they are nothing compared this. My bracers allow me to touch the aether, but blood magic allows me to touch something much more powerful."
The magi who accompanied the slave dumped a basket of heavy stones upon her body. They thudded dully against her flesh, forming a large pile. Razja had not even seen them bring the basket in –her eyes were fixed on the dead slave's face, the woman's expression frozen in a look of absolute terror.
Abjurer Fahim held both hands over the pile of debris and began chanting again, his voice filling the chamber with a sound like rushing wind. There was a flash of red light and then all fell silent.
Razja blinked against the sudden brightness, momentarily blinded. When her vision returned, she saw that the corpse and the rocks had been utterly destroyed, reduced to a fine layer of ash upon the ground.
“With blood magic,” the Abjurer explained, rubbing his bloodstained hands together as if dusting them off, “whole buildings can be turned to rubble. We can destroy cities and burn our enemies to ash. No kingdom will dare attack our homeland again.”
“You murdered her,” Razja said. She thought that her horrified declaration would go unnoticed, but everyone in attendance turned to look at her.
“She was a slave,” the Abjurer replied flatly. His brow furrowed into a deep frown. “In life, she was worth little, but in death? In death, she serves a greater purpose.”
