Time  ~  The Acolyte

He was naked as a new-born, save for the emerald ring on the middle finger of his left hand.  Light from the green stone pulsed in time with his heartbeat, he knew nothing.   He possessed nothing but a sixth sense born of the regression process.   He felt a sudden sense of imminent danger and jumped back several paces.   Twenty yards ahead the air shimmered, a deafening cry of frustration accompanied the beating of tentacles lashing the spot he’d occupied.   He sensed the danger, without recalling a similar encounter, somewhere back in the future.   He watched as the tentacles settled back amongst the flora, and stored the memory, as the first of many.

“Be wary boy!    This is the lair of the Gyrax, she has been here since the dawn of time and is not particular who or what she eats.”   The boy turned, surprised by a grey bearded man who had appeared beside him without warning. 

“Who are you,” he demanded, staring up into the intense slate grey eyes, showing no fear, and exuding a confidence he didn’t feel.

The tall slim elderly man switched the stave from left to right hand and smiled, childlike.

“Would you be seeking employment?” he asked ignoring both the question and the boy’s nakedness.   “I have need of an acolyte.   An apprentice to fetch, carry and assist me in the performance of my craft.   In return, I will provide you with food, shelter, and I will teach you all I know of the Forbidden Arts.”

“Forbidden, by whom?”

“A straight question boy, deserving of a straight answer.   Forbidden by those who could never conjure or control true power themselves,” he tousled the boy’s hair and smiled.   “My name is Reynon, it’s a word of ancient power.   Like you, I arrived here from the future.”

“You know how I came here?”

Again Reynon ignored his question, “What is your name boy?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Then I shall call you Morlen, if that meets with your approval it’s another ancient name.” 

The young man paused and reflected.  “It sounds just fine sir.”

“Master!   You are now my acolyte, an apprenticed magician, of the fifth order. Now follow me, to your new home.”

“Tell me master Reynon, how do I reach the fourth order?”

“You just did, simply by voicing the question.”   They walked on in silence for a while.

“Then will you tell me how I can reach the third level?”

“That is not quite so simple.   You will need to demonstrate a little talent, self control, and empathy with the minds of other creatures.   In addition you need to display a thorough knowledge of the sciences, coupled with control and manipulation of natural processes.”

“So where do I start?” Morlen asked with enthusiasm.   A low thatched building came into view surrounded by ancient woodland on three sides and a fast flowing stream on the other.

“Take a bucket from the rear of the house and fill it with water from the stream.  Do you see that cauldron? Three buckets should fill it, light a fire beneath the cauldron.   Through the side door is a root cellar--”

“What is a root cellar?”

Reynon was exasperated, “Don’t you know anything boy?   Can you not cook?   Am I forced to present an acolyte who can’t cook, to the Grande Assembly of Mages?”   Oh, the indignity of it!  He thought.   “Don’t despair; we have two years before the encounter on Enchanters Island.”  

“You don’t want me here,” said Morlen.

“I never said that--”

“Oh the Indignity of it!”   Morlen parodied.

“I did not speak those words; mayhap you do have a modicum…”   Taking a pack of cards, Reynon cut, what is this, he thought.

“A star.”

And this, Reynon cut again.

“A square.”

And…

“Another star, the sun.”

“How do you know the sun is a star?”

I… I don’t know, but it’s true master!” Morlen said with conviction.

“Come let’s find you something to wear,” said Reynon changing the subject.

.-…-.

Two tree sparrows perched on one of his outstretched arms, arguing gregariously with regular comments from other pairs perched nearby.   Morlen stood on a four foot stump, arms akimbo, eyes closed, swaying gracefully in a light spring breeze, to all intents and purposes he was a tree.   Neither the sparrows nor their neighbours had any doubts.   The hen bird was busy scolding her mate completely unconcerned by her perch.

“Boy, you’ve been at it for two hours.   I think we can safely assume your concentration and visualisation are acceptable, but can you tell me what they are saying?”

“She’s saying, (the birds took to the wing in alarm, talking trees did not fall within their experience), I’m not tall enough and have insufficient foliage.   She wants him to build their nest higher.”   He dropped from the stump, landing lightly on the balls of his feet.   Don’t be alarmed little sister.   It is I Morlen, we have spoken before, and I mean you no harm.

The very idea!   Talking with humans, it’s disgusting, the cock scolded her.   Come away, its mind is filled with hunger.

Reynon chuckled, “I did warn you they look down their beaks at anything that cannot fly.”

“Flight!” said Morlen following their path, with his eyes, to the higher safer nesting boughs.

Reynon scratched his frizzy grey beard noisily, “No, we’ve wasted enough time on that one, when you’re ready you will fly, till then you’ll just have to be patient.”   He spread a cloth over the tree stump and loaded it with sausage bread cheese fruits pies and a bottle of new wine.  Seeing the disappointment on Morlen’s face he shook his head and smiled, relenting.   “Okay!  Eat and drink then you can have two hours free time for your flying.   You have ability; all you need is a little patience and application.   The second level will come in its own time!”

.-…-.

“A three hundred mile journey, do we have to fly all the way?”  Morlen asked.

“Of course we don’t, just a few miles, there's a shortcut we can take to Enchanters Island,”  Reynon answered in mind speak, “we could walk, or we could always use the Terminus – you do have a key after all.”

“We’ve been through that before, it’s just a ring!   I know, I had it when I arrived two years ago, long before I knew anything of Magic…”

 “But, don’t you see?   I was attracted to the magic in the key.   I was searching for signs of magic, or latent ability.   When I found you the key was on your finger, pulsating, if it hadn’t been, the Gyrax would have been the fatter by one medium sized boy.”

“But, you didn’t save me!” said Morlen indignantly.

“Correct!  It was the ring that saved you.”

Morlen thought for a moment and absently looped a loop, “Okay, lead the way…” 

 Two Gyre Falcon’s angled down towards a rocky outcrop a mile beyond Gyraxs’ lair.    They landed, morphing to human form as Reynon and Morlen.   Immediately the ring started to glow.

“That signifies the Terminus is nearby.   We climb down a chimney, about a hundred feet, here it is,” Reynon sounded triumphant.

Peering down into the shaft Morlen could see a feint pink glow.   There were foot and hand holds cut into the rock walls.   So, with Reynon leading the way they climbed down, aided by the strange diffused light.   Its intensity increased as they went deeper but disappeared the instant he stepped off into the lower chamber.   They negotiated a shallow incline.   Morlen could see the ring was glowing more intently now.

“This is the door,” said Reynon, pointing to a wall with strange markings on it. “Touch it with the key.”   Morlen reached out nervously with his left hand and a section of the wall disappeared, revealing a small dimly lit cell.   “In you go,” as they entered the wall returned.  

“We’re trapped!”  Morlen’s voice squeaked.   A panel of buttons appeared on the wall.

“Press number five boy.”    Morlen obeyed and it lit up, “Now press it again.”

“But nothing happened.”

“Do as I say boy.”

He pressed it again and the door opened.   His olfactory senses were assaulted by the heady perfume of aromatic herbs and medicinal plants.   A kaleidoscope of colours aroma’s and sounds bewildered, and confused him. 

 Reynon led Morlen from the Terminus in a drunken stupor.   “Sensory overload,” he explained.  “It’s a little excessive, but in a few years you should get used to living here in Kryft.”

“You said we were coming to Enchanters Island, nothing was said about staying,” said Morlen.

“You object?   You don’t want to stay,” Reynon sounded surprised.

“I’d prefer not, if you don’t mind.”

“Reynon!   I see you just made the deadline, by the skin of your eyelids, again.   Two hours more and I would have had my old job back.”

“Anthrax!   Brother of mine, I wish I could say I’m sorry for your demise…”

“Don’t speak too soon brother, you’re not away yet, there is still the small matter of the testing?”

“I have no fears on that count brother, he’s a real find, You’ll not be rejecting Morlen.   Better luck in  five years time.”   He turned to Morlen, “this is my elder brother and twin, Anthrax.   He will continue your training.”

“You mean you want me to stay here while you return to the real world.   I think not, I’m leaving with you!”

“Now don’t be difficult boy, this is all illusion designed to keep unwanted guests away.   Reduce the sensitivity of your senses and things will return to normal—how’s that?”

Morlen nodded, “better.”

Time  ~  The Testing

He opened his eyes, in complete darkness.   He lay on a hard unyielding surface that seemed to sway drunkenly with each breath he took.   He steadied himself gingerly and reached out above his head and to the sides.   He realized then that he was perched on a swinging four by two foot platform suspended on chains attached to its four corners.   After two minutes he still could not penetrate the blackness.   He attempted to unleash a light spell, without success, then he tried a revealing spell and finally in desperation a transference spell, nothing worked.   He opened his mind tentatively, seeking the minds of others.   There were no extraneous thoughts, not even from lower order creatures.   He was forced to accept that this place did not allow magic.   He shivered with fear, for two years he had concentrated solely on learning magic, now he found that magic was denied him.   He realized that he was on his own, reliant only on his mind and his body.   He smiled grimly; he should have known that Raynon would not play by the rules.

He sat on the platform using it as a swing, to determine the limitations of his prison.   He swung in all directions without making contact with the walls.   He climbed up the two chains, as far as he could go, and discovered that the ceiling was smooth unyielding rock.   One chain was fastened to a large ring firmly imbedded in the rock.   The other was attached to a rams-horn hook.        He couldn’t get out through the roof or reach the walls.   His only choice was to go down.   But, even hanging from the platform and stretching his legs out he could not feel the ground.   It could be a few feet or a mile below; there was no way of knowing.  He thought of dropping something and timing the duration of its fall but all he wore was a linen shirt and pantaloons.   He thought a while then stood at one end of the plank, raising it until he could grasp both chains then he climbed as far as he could using both, then transferred all his weight to the one attached to the open hook whilst still holding on to the other loose chain.   He succeeded in looping it over the open hook and transferring his weight to it.    This allowed him to unhook the other chain and allow it to fall into the dark abyss.   He listened.   He’d succeeded in doubling the length of the chain but it still did not reach the ground.   He slid down to the platform and beyond until he was hanging from the lower end of the double length chain.   His arms were aching, burning from the effort involved.   Still he felt and saw nothing, and the ground could still be a mile below.   He climbed back up so that he could loop the chain between his legs and looping it over his shoulders to give respite to his arm and leg muscles.

.-…-.

He remembered their arrival and Reynon warning him that testing started as soon as he set foot on the isle.   He’d been taken to quarters in the student wing and told to wait.   He became drowsy and fell asleep.   He awoke with many hands restraining him.   His mouth was forced open, and a quantity of liquid poured down his throat.  

A voice said, “That should dampen his magic,” then he lost consciousness.

.-…-.

He became angry at the realisation that his magic had been stolen.   He used the anger to fire his adrenalin reserves.   Pulling down the front of his pants he urinated in short burst, counting 1-apple, 2-apple, 3-apple, 4…  He heard a faint distant splash.   He was too high to survive a fall.   He repeated the experiment until his bladder was empty but the result was the same.   He lowered himself down the chain and wrapped it around one wrist.  Grasping above it with the other hand he started to swing from side to side until his feet touched a wall.   On the backward swing he found his feet again touched a wall.   After half a dozen swings in various directions he concluded that the wall must be circular.   Each time he made contact he walked a few steps anti-clockwide until he judged he’d made a complete revolution.   He took another rest and climbed a few feet higher then repeated another circuit.   He took another rest then tied a loop in the chain, into which he put his foot.   He continued to swing, finding it progressively harder to touch the walls.   It seemed he’d been at it for hours, it was difficult to judge time in complete darkness, there were no reference points.   He was wracking his brain for an alternative course of action when a contact produced a different sound; a hollow sound.   He swung back higher and faster and made contact with the wall, harder than intended.   The wind was forced from his lungs and he was violently sick, still dangling from the chain.   He heaved a second time and tasted the sour stomach juices, which caused him to heave again.   Subconsciously, he cast a soothing spell and the sickness subsided.

 “It worked.” He yelled, and tried a light spell.   In the early light given off he could see a door and a platform.   He swung as close as he could and jumped, grasping the door ring he clung on and swung himself onto the platform.

.-…-.

Reynon roared his delight.   “Well brother, when have you ever heard of an apprentice escaping from the cistern?   Its only purpose is to humble them before the real training begins…”

“He’s not out yet, and his time is running out.”

“He’s negated your damping potion, He’s reclaimed his magic, no other has ever done that.” He smirked, “You’ve lost!   I think you owe me a keg of fortified Vaspellian wine.”

“Wait—“ said Anthrax, as the door handle to the Cistern turned.  

“No!” Reynon gasped.  The door fell inwards, laying flat like a bridge into the abyss.   Reynon fell silent.  

“You caught him?” Anthrax asked of the trainee Magicians who were there to keep Morlen from harm, and rescue him at the end of two and a half hours or, if he fell.

“The web is still in place, if he’d fallen we’d have caught him,” the oldest trainee magician answered. 

Reynon walked slowly to the gaping door.   He stood there for several moments, a hand appeared at the edge of the door, then another, and the old man smiled spontaneously.  Shortly after Morlen’s head and shoulders came into view.   He stepped forward to congratulate his Acolyte but was confronted by a cold uncompromising stare, he backed off.   Seconds later the other apprentices hoisted Morlen onto their shoulders and carried him through the town in triumph.

“I don’t think you’re his favourite person at this moment in time,” Anthrax whispered.

Reynon shrugged, but the hurt was clearly visible in his face.

An ornately dressed messenger boy approached and announced, “Reynon, your presence is required in the counsel chamber,” so it was that he learned, the Oracle wanted him to travel to Central as chief Druid to Gregorius XIV.   His name would be Aetemus, and he was to leave immediately.

.-…-.

On the following day Morlen lined up with twenty three other apprentices to be chosen by one of five clutch mentors Masters: Brox and Agaric, Mistresses: Decamon, Tamrose and Poskiss.   Tradition was for five clutches of four students but this year there were four additional students.   It had been assumed that each clutch would take one additional student, but when there were four unclaimed students remaining the clutch mentors refused to choose further.

“Either you each select an additional clutch member or I will appoint an additional clutch mentor,” the chief counsellor warned.   There was a long pause punctuated by nervous coughing.   “Very well then, I appoint…”

“No need!   I would be honoured to mentor a clutch chosen for me by my eminent colleagues,” said Anthrax.   “I am gratified you chose so unselfishly, I find that I have been ceded the cream of the crop!”   He smiled warmly at the four young rejects, “Miss Cerelle, Mr Zatticus, Mr Hurk and of course Mr Morlen,” he shook their hands warmly and bowed to each in turn.  

He received sympathetic smiles from three of the Mentors but hostile glares from Agaric and Poskiss.

“Why Master Agaric, Mistress Poskiss, have I done something to offend?”

Agaric said, “Not in words but, you have caused offence.   I cannot believe this august body could be taken in by your deception…”

“Deception? How so, cousin.”

“Do not imply kinship where none exists, I will state it plain so there is no doubt in anybodies mind.  Anthrax you aided your brothers apprentice in the first test.   It has remained unchanged since the dawn of time.”

“We are all aware of that,” said Anthrax.    

“The code forbids forewarning…”

“Of course, they are expected to fail the first test it teaches them humility, keeps their feet planted squarely on the ground and their minds firmly in touch with reality.   If anything I would attempt to ensure his failure.   In fact his success cost me a fine keg of wine!”   There was muted laughter at this.

“You have made a mockery of everything we stand for,” said Poskiss.

“I did not train him, Reynon did so.   Why would anybody waste time training an apprentice for  failure?   We train them to succeed but the odds of this particular game are heavily stacked against them.   It greatly reduces their chance of succeed but doesn’t eliminate it totally. ”

“I know he must have been forewarned,” Agaric glared at Anthrax.

“Then select one of your own clutch to duplicate his feat, with the benefit of hindsight, else apologise to me and the boy!”

Agaric clenched his fists, shook his head, and features distorted with rage.  

“It will not end here. There is a case to be answered,” said Poskiss, she wheeled theatrically and followed Agaric out of the council chamber.

To be continued (one day)/...