Chapter 1
When
things went wrong for Trentorius there was usually one of three causes. Often some minor error in his calculations
would slip past his careful scrutiny and upset his experiment. The smallest mistakes had a way of ballooning
into impossible barriers to success. A
glyph etched incorrectly on a talisman or some barbarous words of invocation
mispronounced could upset the entire operation.
Precision was the key to magick; he knew this better than anyone. However, on this occasion, he had used the
most elaborate astrological models ever produced. The King of Lorm had hired ten of the finest
astrologers in the kingdom at Trentorius’ behest to assist in the calculations required,
and he had, himself, with the utmost scrutiny inspected every line of their
work. For that matter, the spirit Ujoil
had assured him that all of the preparations had been completed perfectly.
The
second problem that bedeviled him was an often imperfect understanding of his
will. It was absolutely essential that
the magician correctly understood his will.
If success was not part of the universal will, no amount of power,
precision, or experience would prevail.
In the past such misunderstandings had brought him failures
aplenty. But this time he had undertaken
this operation upon the king’s request, to reverse a magical transformation
done unjustly, as Trentorius was told, upon the crown prince of Lorm by a group
of druids. And while the old wizard was
being paid a considerable sum for his efforts, the very nobility of his task
could not be considered a violation of universal law. He had arrived at his present course of
action through countless hours of meditations, divination and conversations
with elementals, spirits and lesser demons.
All assured him the reversal of the prince’s transformation was possible
and within accordance with his will.
The
third, and most recently troublesome, impediment to his success, was an
improper magickal link. The magickal
link was the most oft overlooked aspect of magick. The subject of the experiment was missing,
making it impossible to work the spell.
This fact was both frustrating and a relief. Without the princess, the spells could not be
tested, but nor could they fail.
Trentorius was afforded more time since the princess’ disappearance, or
abduction. The King had wanted to
present his heir with the present of reversing the druidic spell of
transformation, as a Yule gift. When the
faerie warlord Dowbreth kidnapped Tolian in the middle of the Yule Jarrels and
disappeared without a trace two weeks ago, Trentorius was almost relieved. Now, of course, King Tolris not only expected
the old sage to transform his son back into his male form, but to find the
missing royal issue. After two weeks
none who set off in pursuit of the abducted princess returned.
Simple
divinations were not enough. The stars
offered little counsel. His scrying bowl
revealed only the vaguest of impressions.
Nothing concrete. Nothing
useful. It was almost as if Tolian had
vanished off the face of the world. There
was nothing for it. Trentorius had to
consult with Ujoil, his trusted, if taciturn spirit.
It
was black in Trentorius’s chamber save for the light of the candles. One stood in the midst of his altar and the
four set in the cardinal points around his magick circle and three marked the
points of his triangle of evocation placed a little distance away. Heavy black curtains covered the windows
which kept at bay deep chill from the heavy snow falling outside. Plumes of heavy incense rose from both the altar
and the triangle.
Trentorius
began his incantations. The barbarous
words of evocation vibrated through his mouth which he had to contort with some
effort to make the proper pronunciations.
“Hecas! Hecas!
Belboilas! VRAS TELOMD SADWRYN CALDRAS!”
With each syllable emitted the darkness of
the room grew deeper. The old man
increased the volume of his chant with each repetition. Waves of blackness resonated around him. The light of the candles fell dimmer and
dimmer. He began his circumambulations
of the circle with a steady pace with his arms outstretched and before him,
palms open and out. Just as he brought
the volume of his incantation to almost a scream, he immediately gradually
lowered his cries in sync with a slowing of his pace around the circle. His thoughts were wrapped around his words.
“VRAS
TELOMD SADWRYN CALDRAS”
Slower
and slower became his pace. Softer and softer were his words.
Visions
of graveyeards, and alien fields, and ringed skies. The blackness of the night’s sky, stars turned
cold and dim.
A
cold draft blew in from the window past the curtains. Trentorius gait dropped to a step of careful
deliberation. His words slipped into
whispers. He fell silent and returned to
his position at the altar. He allowed
the silence and the darkness to descend heavily upon him. He lifted the talisman of Sadwryn, Sphere of
Silence. An infinite blackness filled
the old sorcerer’s mind.
With
a gentle whisper he called, “Ujoil, Spirit of Sadwryn, Come Hence, I command
thee!”
Clouds
of black light settled slowly from the darkness of the room and condensed in
the triangle to the north of the circle.
Now a deep sorrow moved through Trentorius’ thoughts, the vague feeling
of dread that inevitably presaged the arrival of the spirit of the dark world
of endings. A figure took shape within
the triangle at a painfully languid pace.
The figure appeared first as a small skeleton comprised of shadows and
dark clouds of incense that faded in and out of Trentorious’s sight.
The
conjurer slowly raised his sword form off the altar and lifted it vertically
above his head. In his other hand he
still held the talisman. With a patience
mixed with power and caution he approached the northern curve of the circle,
sword still perched high, as if to strike at any time.
He
called to the spirit in the triangle, “Ujoil, Spirit of Sadwryn speak thou unto
me in truth, being neither recalcitrant nor rebellious, but honest and
forthright. Be thous obedient and wise
in my service.”
He
raised the talisman over his head as well, “For I hold the sigil of your power
and you must obey me.”
The
dark apparition eyed him, some alien emotion moved behind his unblinking
stare. His body drifted in and out of
perception amidst the clouds of incense billowing form the full brazer inside
the triangle. He considered the sorcerer
coldly. The spirit produced a sickle
from the thick smoke abundant about him.
He traced the pattern of his sigil in the air before him with the blade
of his reaper.
The
room was seized by a silence so overwhelming in its intensity that the
magician’s heart quailed before its black and terrible eternity. Strange images impinged themselves on
Trentorius’ consciousness. Scenes of
death. Plagues. Famines.
Withered fields of corn. Skeletal
figures crawling as far as the eye could see.
Empires crumbled. The sun dull
and dying. Whether these were things in
his mind or the forms the spirit was taking inside the triangle, he could not
be sure. A stillness reigned. The jumble of images was replaced by one
coherent figure. A lizard crucified to
a large black book hovered inside the triangle, yet seemed to be a lone
creature in the vastness of space. A
terrible silence raged.
The
lizard spoke, its words echoing thorough the wizard’s mind in a whispered
hiss, “The powers of Sadwryn have
attended you. Speak your will.”
It
took Trentorious a few moments to regain his composure after the spirit’s
display of power. The old man drew a
deep breath and concentrated on framing his question correctly. Planetary spirits tended to be very literal
creatures with agendas quite their own; and though Ujoil did not appear
capricious or mischievious, he would nonetheless be happy to mislead the
sorcerer if the opportunity arose. In
this case the question was a direct one, so Trentorius felt secure in asking
it.
“I
need information,” he answered the lizard.
“Princess Tolian has been missing for over two weeks. I can not transform that which I cannot find. Where can we find her? Answer me truly! Obey!”
The
lizard-like Ujoil cocked his head on an angle and looked at him,
“She moves between the Spheres. She is
coming here. To Lorm. Soon, she will arrive.”
The
information surprised Trentorius but he did not show it. He held his focus. “When will she arrive/” he demanded.
The
lizard began to writhe as the book it was nailed to began to swirl around.
“When?”
again the wizard asked with authority.
The
book suddenly stopped and Ujoil spoke once again, “Time is a relative thing in
the spheres. It is possible that the
princess is yet on the Moon, but her arrival here is certain. Her movement can be felt. Powerful is her energy. It travels before her as a harbinger. She is coming. By tomorrow you will meet her in the throne
room ... at noon.”
The
spirits words made little sense.
“Are
you saying that she is not on this world, but on the Moon/” The Moon?”
Slowly
Ujoil nodded, “She is on the Moon, but she is coming. I feel her power directed upon Lorm even as
we speak.”
Trentorius
was puzzled over the praeternatural being’s words, but the fact that the
princess would arrive by the next day was the important part.
With
more nervousness than, perhaps, was wise to reveal to the spirit, he asked, “I
will be able to transform her back into a man, right?”
Ujoil
smiled with his lizard mouth, revealing sharp fangs, before speaking, “Your
formula is correct, your power potent.
You have the ability to reverse the prince’s transformation. Still, there are many factors at work
here. A contest between good and evil. The Gods of the Spheres against the forces of
chaos. All endings are still
possible. All worlds are on the brink of
destruction. More than this–I can not
say.”
Trentorisu
sighed. “Very well, I thank you for
attending me and give you license to depart.
Return now to the sphere of your habitation. Go in peace.
I release you.”
The
apparition nodded and slowly faded into the darkness of the room.
Copyright 2015 Diana Hignutt
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