The Complete Series, page 23
part #1 of The Hidden Wizard Series
This is an opportunity.
Maybe there was a way he could free himself while Branthor was occupied. He started to probe his restraints to determine how he was held and what damage had been done.
“Can you believe it is actually a pool? These stories are never so literal, it is refreshing,” Branthor said. “Still with me? Don't worry, I can see that you are.” Alrion decided not to respond and save his energy.
He discovered at least two stone spikes that had pierced through him and were restricting his movement. There were likely more. He felt weak and knew that he was in serious trouble. Branthor may not have killed him outright, but he had badly wounded him.
“What do you think the protocol is here? Do I just stick my head inside? Is there a special cup to use?” Branthor said as he inspected the Pool closely. He didn't wait for Alrion to respond.
“You're being awfully quiet back there, I had best drink immediately. Perhaps my newfound knowledge will give me some great ideas about what to do with you.”
“You could heal me,” Alrion said, his voice a little stronger than he expected.
“Don't be silly, why would I do that? If I turned you, the Blight would save you. Besides, healing just isn't my strong point. Never really saw the point.” Branthor turned back and bent over the Pool.
“No point in delaying further, I hope it tastes good.” He knelt down and cupped his hands, filling them with water from the Pool. He drank the water swiftly, wiping his face afterwards. While he was distracted, Alrion tried weakening the spikes so that he could detach them from the ground and hopefully remove them. He could get to one with his hands, but the others would require magic which would potentially tip off Branthor.
“Doesn't taste like anything, so that's a good sign. I'm probably not poisoned. Did they tell you how long it takes to work?” Branthor said, walking back to Alrion.
“I know nothing.”
“Truer words than you realise. I've come to a decision.”
“What's that?” Alrion gently probed with a force spell, feeling where the stone spikes had impaled him. He didn't realise he could morph a push spell this way. He wasn't sure how much Branthor could detect, but if he was careful and used minimal Spark perhaps he could get by unnoticed.
“You shouldn't be wasted; you would be a good addition to the cause. It's not ideal, but I think you should be infected. All you need to do is stay alive long enough for the process to happen.”
“I'd rather die.”
“Empty words. You can't do anything. And I doubt you have the strength of Will to do so anyway.”
“How long do I have?” Alrion said.
I need to buy some time, keep him occupied.
“Not long, probably an hour or so. It looks like I was tidy with my attack, I don't think I hit any vital organs. You should be happy.”
“Happy that you've pinned me down and want to infect me with the Blight?”
“Exactly. It's a privilege, you just don't know it yet. Now then, how do I access this new knowledge?” Branthor said.
“Maybe you are not worthy.” Alrion coughed, pain wracking his chest.
“If anybody here is not worthy, it is you. You are a simple fledgling, just following orders. It's a miracle you made it this far. If I had wanted to destroy you earlier, I had ample opportunity. Yes, you are not worthy. But in time, you will prove useful.” Branthor continued pacing around the room.
Alrion felt himself weakening by the second. Even if Branthor was right and his wounds were not immediately fatal, in his weakened state he would not be able to resist when they infected him, and all would be for nothing. He couldn't let Branthor win. He had to find a way.
Suddenly, he had an idea. One last roll of the dice. One gamble for it all. He smiled and forced a laugh, the pain in his chest worth it.
“What are you laughing about?” Branthor looked at Alrion with suspicion and started to walk back.
“You don't even know how to activate the knowledge you have acquired. It's actually hilarious. It doesn't matter if I die here today, you will not succeed. You have failed all by yourself,” Alrion said.
“You ignorant little ant. How dare you act all high and mighty? You're on the brink of death, and I could kill you at any time. Time is what I have, time is what you lack. Even if it takes me years to obtain the knowledge I require, that is fine. You will be powerless to stop me. In fact, you will be helping me very soon.” Branthor's flare of anger simmered down into malice, a wicked smile mocking Alrion.
Alrion tried to respond but instead coughed harshly.
Maybe it's too late, he thought. Regardless, it was now or never. He forced out a harsh whisper that was inaudible.
“What was that? Having trouble talking back? Let me hear your clever retort,” Branthor said. He approached Alrion and leaned closer.
“C'mon, let's hear it.” Branthor pointed to his ear. Alrion grabbed his entire Spark as if he was wielding an iron fist. He wrenched it all out and threw it in a single surge. Everything he had, in one attack but focused on the stone spears and spikes impaling him. He forced every single one out of his body, and into Branthor's chest.
The speed and force of the attack surprised Branthor, and he was so close he couldn't react in time. Alrion almost passed out from the pain, but he had the presence of mind to clutch at his own chest, trying to stem the blood flow.
Branthor stumbled backward, a stunned look on his face.
“How?” he said, muttering the word just loud enough for Alrion to hear.
“I got lucky.” Alrion reached for his Spark, and found a small pocket available. His head was spinning, and the pain was threatening to make him faint, but he focused just enough to start a healing spell.
“You fool, that will never work. You can't heal yourself,” Branthor said.
“I don't need it to work, I just need it to hold me together a little longer,” Alrion said. He didn't have much Spark left but used what he could. He remembered Falric's lecture about the healing spell. About how it relied on the Spark, so it wasn't effective on your own body but he didn't care.
Alrion focused his Will on making it work better, on his own body responding to the treatment. He drew on whatever power he had within to somehow hold himself together. He refused to die here, or wait for infection by the Blight. He would complete his mission, and live to fight on.
“You'll never make it out of here,” Branthor said as he fell to the ground.
“That's my line,” Alrion said. Branthor was breathing with difficulty.
“I can survive this, just you wait.”
“Not going to, I'm going to leave while I can.” Alrion dragged himself up to a seated position. He felt over his chest and found that the wounds had sealed up somewhat.
At least my guts won't be falling out, he thought. He steeled himself and forced himself up into a crouch. A sharp pain went right through him, but he managed to stay in the position. He leaned against some nearby fallen rocks and lifted himself to a semi-upright stance.
“Don't think that you've won,” Branthor said.
“Save your energy,” Alrion said, and started to head towards the Pool of Knowledge. Its glow was calling him. But he took his time. Each foot placed in front of the other, methodically and with care. Any loss of concentration would cause him to fall over, and he wasn't sure if he could get up again. When he hadn't heard any more taunting from Branthor, he paused and looked over.
Branthor was quiet, his eyes were closed but his chest still moved up and down, although in a slow and laboured way.
He's not my problem, Alrion thought and continued on. Gradually he continued, at a crawling pace.
“Almost there, hold it together,” he told himself. One more step. Then one more. Then he arrived. The Pool glowed, its mystical blue water looking every bit as magical as he assumed it was.
I just need a sip, at least for now. Let's not overdo things.
He bent down slowly, making sure he was stable. He reached out with his right hand and steadied himself with his left. As he touched the water, his strength failed him, and he toppled into the Pool headfirst.
30
Baptism
Alrion awoke with a gasp. His body was cold, too cold. Everything hurt, and he struggled to move. He realised that he was immersed in the Pool of Knowledge.
I could have drowned.
He had fallen in a lucky way, with his body leaning against the contours of the bottom of the pool and his head out of the water. He managed to shuffle backward so that he was sitting more upright in the water.
I hope I haven't ruined it, he thought. He forced his right arm to move and cupped some water within it, after a few attempts. He managed to gulp the water down and did it a second time for good measure.
Since I'm here, I'd better make this work.
The fluids seemed to revive him a little, so he decided to make the best of it and get moving. In one big movement, he stood up and tumbled out of the Pool. He landed on the ground with a thud and regretted it instantly.
At least I won't drown.
With some care, he got back onto his feet and started walking away.
How long was I out? He wondered. The room he was in looked the same, there were no signs of the passage of time. Branthor was still there, but Alrion couldn't see if he was still breathing.
“Not your problem, just keep moving,” Alrion told himself. He turned to face the exit. The blockage that Branthor had created had been damaged during the fight but was still mostly intact. Alrion paused and looked around. He selected an area that looked promising and staggered over. There were multiple holes and large cracks all concentrated in this one place.
Don't fail me now, he thought, searching for his Spark. He could sense some there, but grabbing at it was like water slipping through his fingers. With enough persistence, he did manage to gather some Spark and placed his hand on the middle of the weakest area. He unleashed his entire Spark into an explosion of force, rocking the stone wall.
Sections of the wall collapsed, and large cracks formed throughout the rest. The impact was much greater than he expected.
I better not get buried alive in here with Branthor, he thought, watching the wall crack, and contort. The motion finally died down, and he eased himself through a large hole.
“That wasn't so bad,” he said and started walking away. A loud crash startled him, and he turned back. The rest of the wall collapsed in waves, showering where he had been standing in rubble. Alrion gulped hard and decided not to think too much about it. He looked ahead.
The tunnel was pitch black, but Alrion was unable to cast any magic. He found the tunnel wall and used it to guide him along. The intense darkness and his slow progress made him lose all sense of time. He knew he had to hurry, in case the reinforcements that Branthor had requested arrived but he also knew that if he rushed, he would fall, and his luck wouldn't extend enough to let him get up again.
After a long, painful slog, he reached the door. It had sealed behind him. He felt a mixture of relief and annoyance.
Well, maybe it opens the same way on this side, Alrion thought. He felt his way along the stone door until he noticed the change in texture in the centre. He was careful not to move too far over, in case he stumbled over the bodies of the guardians. He drew a circle with his hand and stepped back. Nothing happened.
“Work, damn you!” Alrion cried out, and smashed the door with his palm. A loud thunk rang out and the door started to move. Alrion staggered back to avoid it and leaned on the tunnel wall. A crack of light, then a flood washed over his eyes. The dimly lit entrance hall was a bright beacon of hope. Once his eye adjusted, he stepped out cautiously and leaned on one of the stone thrones. He edged around it and let himself sink into it. He was too quick to do so and felt the pain as his body hit the stone, but it was a relief to sit down.
Maybe I shouldn't have done this, I won't want to get up, Alrion thought but then he pictured a horde of Blighters or worse streaming down the tunnel and he stood up again. He had to keep moving.
He felt somewhat renewed by the better-lit entrance and the fact that he was close to civilisation again. He just had to struggle on. Step after agonising step. He was so deathly tired.
I could just sink down over there, close my eyes and rest.
The cold stone looked so inviting but he knew if he did so he would never wake. And while there was some comfort in that in his weary state, he didn't want it. So, he pushed on, ignoring the cries of his body.
He finally reached the wooden door that led to the main hall and he rejoiced. He pulled the door open with such force that he almost lost balance and fell through the doorway, but he caught himself and only fell to one knee. He looked up, expecting an audience, but the room was empty. The Speaker and the council had all left.
Great, Alrion thought. His trek was not over. He picked himself up and continued walking. Across the stage, down the steps, and through the hall. His lonely trek felt like the entire length of his journey up until this point but all he could do was move forward, so he did. One step at a time. He reached the giant doors at the end of the hall, which were also deserted. Alrion sighed, and pushed on them, gaining access to the outside.
It was still dark out, and the streets were still. He remembered the way back to his lodging and praised the fact that it was close. He considered calling out but didn't think he had the voice to do it. He kept walking, pausing to lean on buildings and fences as required.
“Just keep going, you made it this far,” he told himself. “You can't waste the knowledge that you have gained.” Alrion spotted the small house and felt a wave of relief. It wasn't far now. His body started to fail on him, sensing that his destination was nearby.
“Hold on,” he whispered. The last dozen steps were almost impossible. He took them one at a time, resting between each one. When he finally reached the door, he reached out to knock and fell against it with a crash.
Alrion sat upright. He had blacked out, and not really dreamed.
How long has it been? He thought. He looked around and noticed that he was in a bed. Lara and Caleb were sitting next to him and looked up with concern.
“What happened?”
“You collapsed outside, I brought you in, and Caleb came looking for you a bit later. You're barely alive, so don't push your luck,” Lara said.
“You must search the Pool; the black wizard is there.”
“We already did. There's nobody else there in the areas we can access, apart from the bodies of the two guardians,” Caleb said, his features downcast.
“Is he alive? That seems impossible.”
“There was also a fairly significant cave-in. It will take a long time to properly excavate,” Caleb said. Alrion slumped back down in the bed, his body reminding him of his many injuries.
“What happened in there?” Lara said.
“The wizard was waiting for me. Turns out, I knew him. It was Branthor, the new head of the Wizard Academy.”
“Why would such a distinguished wizard act like that?” Lara looked shocked.
“Apparently, he was infected by the Blight many years ago, and was cleansed by my grandfather's spell. However, the effect wasn't complete. He was still connected to the Blight. Once he realised that the Pool of Knowledge existed and contained the knowledge of my grandfather, he wanted it for himself. He has crazy plans to make more like him.” Alrion still couldn't believe what he was saying.
“That's insane,” Lara said.
“Did he drink from the Pool?” Caleb said.
“Yes, he did.”
“If there's a chance he is alive as you suspect, that is not good. The Pool does not discriminate and provides the same benefit to all who drink from it.” Caleb looked quite concerned.
“What do you mean? And I thought you didn't know much about it?”
Something's not adding up here.
“I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you. Yes, I am a junior scholar but that is because I am training to become a guardian of the Pool. The two you discovered were my mentors. They were great men, and powerful in their own right.” Caleb sighed again, and his shoulders slumped.
“What? Why didn't you tell me more?” Alrion tempered his anger out of concern for Caleb.
“It was part of a test. They sent me in to report my evaluation of you as part of the decision. It wouldn't be a fair test if you thought I had valuable information.”
I went in there blind!
“I'm not particularly happy about this, but can you at least answer some questions now?”
“Of course.”
“How does the Pool work? What does it do? I can't seem to tell any difference, and neither could Branthor.”
“The Pool of Knowledge is not just a source of knowledge. It works both ways. By drinking the waters, you drink from its knowledge. However, you also contribute your knowledge. Did Branthor drink before you did?”
“Yes, he did.”
“That's good; you may ascertain key knowledge that he had.” Caleb stroked his chin, deep in thought.
“That could be useful. How does it work, though?”
“There are safeguards in place. Can you imagine the enormity of that reservoir? All the knowledge compiled from years of scholars and other learned people?” Caleb's eyes were alight with excitement. “Your mind must take in and absorb all that information.”
“So, when do I get it?”
“You have it already, but there's a catch. You are not in control of the delivery of the knowledge. It will be fed to you as you need it, as your mind processes it as necessary.”
“It's some sort of subconscious control?”
“Essentially. The most common mechanism is through dreams, but sometimes people can access knowledge they never knew they had as if it were their own. It's a strange and inconsistent process.”
