Hot Obsidian

One of them was closer to them than the others, Einar could even see one of its biggest planets, a gas giant, slowly moving in front of it. So that’s why Pai’s Transvolo was wrong: its path came too close to a star, to an alien sun harbouring alien worlds. For a moment, Einar felt a burning desire to know what kind of worlds they were but he had no chance even to ask; the stars disappeared, replaced by brief darkness followed by the colours and sounds of the real world.

Einar and Pai crash-landed on the library floor and stood up, surrounded by students, magisters, and librarians, all looking at them with their mouths agape. Milian, the only smiling face in all the crowd, put his book aside and cheered the Transvolo mage who, he knew (unlike the rest of the crowd) was Pai and not Einar. Awakened by Milian’s hearty cheer, the library hall roared with happy voices, all praising Sharlou for what they thought he had done.

“Your targeting still needs work,” Einar whispered to Pai. “You missed the spot by four halls!”

“I know,” smiled Pai, almost glowing with pride and joy. “Sorry, master.”

***

“Juel! Pai's learned Transvolo!” That was Jarmin, greeting the team leader with a happy yell when Juel returned from his training on the college grounds. “And I’ve finished my painting!” added the little boy no less happily.

Juel took a deep breath, leaned against the wall and stood there in silence for a while. Then he slowly sank to the floor and sat there, cross-legged and bow-backed like a sullen stone gargoyle on a graveyard.

“Juel, are you okay?” asked Jarmin, all his mirth turned to worry in an instant.

“I’m just tired,” said Juel. He didn’t even try to sound convincing.

After that day’s excruciating training in the blazing sun, the news of Pai’s success became a final blow to the young Faizul. Reality shoved his true mission into his face again and there was nowhere to run. Indeed, if he were to try, his own master, Kangassk Abadar, would find him even beyond the charted lands and kill him, slowly. Same with Irin, Lainuver, and Kosta: their Kangassks took the Order’s oaths as seriously as Juel’s master did. The rest of the boys, those with more liberal masters… the rest Sainar would find and destroy himself.

Juel Hak had no choice. He had to go. And he had to make everyone follow him whether they wanted or not. Strangely, these thoughts helped Juel calm down, and when he did, a dream, fiery, rebellious dream, lit up under his heart again: to subvert the Order’s expectations and instead of sacrificing the boys to the mission, lead them safely to Benai Bay.

Juel’s breath steadied, his emotions stopped their frantic dance; the young warrior was at peace with himself and felt safe on his journey again. It was a false feeling of safety, he knew, but just like wild Faizuls, his people, the ones he didn’t even remember, he used self-deceit often to keep going and knew how to trick himself into believing the lie. So he did.

“Tell me about your painting, Jarmin,” he said, in a surprisingly good-natured way. “What kind of world is it?”

“Oh, it’s Primal World, of course!” Jarmin explained, eagerly.

“Primal World…” musingly repeated Juel and smiled, as sincerely as he could, sealing that dream, that lie of his.

***

In the library reading hall, empty in the evening, Einar Sharlou gathered the rest of the junior magisters. They didn’t even try to act serious. All of them were their usual selves, what senior magisters called “mere kids in mage robes”.

Einar made a nervous gesture asking for silence. His peers hushed up a little, half-curious about what he was going to say.

“Do you know why I’ve gathered you here today?” asked Einar.

His audience – four junior magisters – nodded.

“It’s about those Lifekeeper boys,” said Mariana Ornan, the youngest of them all. Young though she was, that mage was much closer to casting her first Transvolo than Einar.

“Exactly!” he said, trying to sound brave. That wasn’t easy when Mariana looked him in the eye. “I need your help, my colleagues and friends. Let us accept the boys into our college. We can do that even in the absence of the senior magisters…”

“Only if we vote unanimously,” remarked Ronard Zarbot (Aven Jay Zarbot’s younger brother was obsessed with laws; his growing up with the head of the Crimson Guard for a sister was showing again).

“Yes, I know…” Einar cleared his throat. “Well, Pai and Milian are young but we can help them catch up with grown-up students and…”

“Heh, I can already imagine the elders’ faces when they hear the news!” Mariana chuckled, not kindly at all.

Krynn and Leona Sarion – twin sisters – exchanged puzzled looks and nodded simultaneously. Einar always found their ability to understand each other without words uncanny.

“Listen, Einar,” Krynn spoke up, “don’t we have a kind of ‘non-aggression pact’ with the Lifekeepers? We don’t recruit their kids, they don’t bother ours, etc…”

“But…” Einar tried to say.

“The Lifekeepers from the Temple of Life will be even less happy than our elders. You realize that, right?” said Leona.

Einar felt a cold lump of fear growing in his throat and swallowed nervously.

“Good to know that you’re aware of the consequences.” Krynn nodded with an approving half-smile. “We get it. ‘Every shlak brags about its own swamp’, so to say. Ambasiaths are just a waste of magic, etc.”

“Yeah. She means that we’ll support you but only if the others say yes first,” translated Leona.

“Mariana, Ronard?” Einar Sharlou turned to the remaining two, unmasked hope in his eyes. “What do you say?”

“Yes,” said Ronard simply.

“All right, I’m in,” gave up Mariana.

“Good.” Einar exhaled, relieved. “I’ll speak to the boys.”

Einar had thought that convincing his fellow magisters would be the hardest part. He was wrong. Never before, in his whole life, had he been worrying and fretting so much as he was when walking the long, empty central corridor of the college, full of dying Lihts and echoes, on his way to speak to the Lifekeeper boys…

***

Everything had been packed a long time ago, everyone was ready to depart. The team sat on the carpetless floor of their dark flat, waiting for Pai and Milian to return. Time dragged, as slow and lazy as dripping tar. The boys ran out of jokes, stories, and ideas and were just silent now, each one brooding over his own thoughts and fears.

The evening light was playing weird tricks with Jarmin’s paintings behind the balcony door, flooding the alien world there with red and purple. More than ever, the little flat felt like home now. Everything there was a fresh memory: Bala’s kitchen niche, the long dining table, the bunk beds… the fat spider in the corner (she was a pet and had a name now!)… the potted succulent on the windowsill, the stain on the floor…

The tar of time dripping lazily. Slanting, reddish rays of the dawn filled with dancing dust. Silence… Some boys dozed off right where they sat. Juel envied them. He was all nerves. His face was a stone mask but his mind was a screaming, fiery hell. No wonder that he jumped on his feet as soon as he heard faint footsteps behind the door. The rest of the team, yawning and muttering something under their breath, got up too.

Milian and Pai entered the room and apologised for being late. Both looked like they have been through something. Something important. Milian looked gloomy, Pai was all smiles, so, clearly, the event had hit each of the boys differently.

“I packed your bags!” announced Bala happily. “You’re all set!”

“Let’s go,” yawned Oasis. “My legs went numb while I was waiting for you two.”

“Same!” Jarmin piped up.

Pai sighed. The smile died on his face, replaced by a painful, worried expression.

“I’ll send you to Torgor on Transvolo,” he said, frowning. “But I’m not going with you. I’m staying here.”

Silence followed. Everyone was looking at Pai Prior now. There was pure hatred in Irin’s gaze, helpless disbelief in Bala’s, compassionate understanding in Orion’s… One way or another, everyone was waiting for an explanation.

“Explain yourself, Pai,” said Juel in a cold, intimidating tone that made the young mage recoil in terror.

“Magister Sharlou offered us a place in his college,” Milian answered in Pai’s stead. He had to crane his head to look the tall Faizul in the eye. Juel towered about him like a mountain, a furious, ready-to-explode mountain… “He said that we won’t even have to pass the exams.”

“And?” demanded Juel. He was looking at Pai now.

Pai, as red as a boiled lobster, was shaking under Juel’s gaze, unable to utter a single word.

“I refused,” Milian spoke up again. “Magic is not my thing.”

“And I… agreed…” squeaked Pai miserably.

“You’re coming with us,” Juel cut his pathetic explanation short.

There was nothing more to talk about. The brat’s rebellion was quenched. Good…

Juel was about to turn his back to Pai and tell the others to prepare for the jump when he heard a yell,

“No!!! I’m staying here! I want to be a mage!!! You won’t stop me!” Pai was hysterical now.

“I will stop you then,” sneered Irin at that. “Go on, try to run away. I swear I’ll find you wherever you go and kill you in the most painful way possible. My arrows will reach you before you even get a chance to learn your first battle spell!”

“Irin!” Bala tried to calm everyone down, as usual, but no one had even noticed him now.

“…Yeah, I’d love to kill a deserter,” continued Irin, a dark, carnivorous glee in his voice. “Go on, Pai, renounce your vows and run. Your Transvolo can buy you a couple of days but I’ll find you, oh I will…”

“What’s wrong with you, people!!!” exclaimed Milian, rushing forward. “Leave him alone! He’s been dreaming of magic his whole life! Magic IS his whole life! I…”

Juel reached Milian in one wide step, grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. The impact was strong enough to take young Raven’s breath away.

“Never,” growled Juel. “You hear me? Never stand between me and someone else. You don’t want to challenge me, whelp, oh, you don’t…”

That said, he released Milian’s shirt and let the terrified boy fall to the floor.

“Juel, stop it.” Orion’s voice, clear and calm, was like a ray of light in the darkness now. “Let me talk to Pai.”

Orion took the terrified young mage by the shoulder, led him out of the room, and closed the door behind him. With a loud sigh of relief, Pai leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor where he sat, a shivering kid in an oversized cloak, exhausted and miserable.

His saviour squatted next to him.

“Listen to me, Pai,” said Orion firmly. “You can’t win here and now, not against Juel, not in the middle of the mission. So do what I say. Tell your magister pal that you’re not refusing but postponing your decision. Colleges enrol new students only at the end of summer anyway, so you’re not losing anything. Don’t argue with Juel and, I beg you, stay away from Irin altogether: that kid is insane, mark my words… So here’s the plan: you’re completing the mission with us first, then you must take your plea to your master. Kangassk Vesperi is a clever, reasonable woman, she will listen to you and will help you. You can’t do anything in the Order without your master’s support, you understand?”

“But…” Pai sniffed and stifled a moan. “But it’s my only chance to be a mage. What if I miss it, what if…”

“Bah!” Orion chuckled. “It’s just a shitty provincial college, Pai. With your talent, any University would kill to have you! So don’t sell yourself short, kid.”

There was a faint smile on Pai’s trembling lips now and hope in his puffy, teary eyes.

“Your main goal is to convince Vesperi that a powerful mage will be more useful to the Order than another ambasiath. Most other Kangassks will support you too, I’m sure. They’re good people. And Sainar is their father, he’ll listen to them.”

Pai was sobbing now, all his fears, his doubts, his anger pouring out of him in tears.

“There, there, warrior…” Orion patted him on the back. “It’s okay. I’m on your side too. Let’s go get that obsidian. After that, you’ll be a full-fledged Order’s member, not some child, and your own voice will have some weight as well.”

Back in the common room, Orion, his face grim, his eyes full of smouldering anger, winked at Juel: it is done, we’re good to go.

The looks that the other teammates gave their leader, spoke it all: the peace and trust that they all had achieved during their stay in Firaska were broken again. Juel Hak had failed as a leader in the eyes of Irin, and as a friend and elder in the eyes of the rest of the boys. That would not be easy to rebuild, indeed!

Chapter 8. The border

Across the border, even the best maps

Have nothing left to say

A void where stars sleep, flickering,

The Moon’s haven by day.

Across the border, across the border –

The end. Nothing moves on.

Water drains down into darkness,

Earth is sliced off and gone.

Far off, in darkness, shining myriads

of stars hang overhead.

I chose my path, and held to it, when

Across the border it led.

Crossing the border changed me, to them

I grew ugly, a repulsive goon –

Not all at once – in separate stages,

Measured, phased like the Moon.

The days once were when handsome I seemed!

My future filled with hope!

When at my zenith, with the strength I’d dreamed,

I crossed the border

Adult Milian. A canto of “Thorn poem”

The team fell into Pai’s Transvolo like a handful of stones thrown into a cold abyss. Despite all the efforts of Einar Sharlou, his young apprentice’s spell still included passing too close to the alien star.

“The Primal World!” exclaimed Jarmin, pointing at the golden sun, that pulsing ball of light that seemed no bigger than a Liht sphere from here. “Pai, please, let’s get closer, let’s take a look!” the little boy begged.

Nobody doubted Jarmin’s words. Nobody. His discovery shook everyone in the team, even Irin. For the first time in their whole journey, Irin’s teammates saw his face lose its usual twisted, menacing expression; it was almost serene now; there was lively interest, a spark of curiosity, a tinge of daydreaming… In the light of the Primal World’s sun, the little fanatic seemed just a boy his age, someone you would want to be friends with.

The beauty of this star seemed healing. The last argument had left a wide crack in the team’s mutual trust but now it felt like the crack was mended with invisible glue. In the face of the living legend, the young Lifekeepers felt united again.

“I wish I could do what you ask, Jarmin,” said Pai with a longing sadness. “But I’m afraid. Coming close to a star is extremely dangerous and I’m just a newbie. I might kill us all if I try…”

“Too bad…” sighed Jarmin.

“I wonder,” Milian squinted his eyes as an exciting idea came into his head, “whether it’s possible to use Transvolo for interstellar travel. What do you think, Pai?”

“I’ll find out one day,” said Pai Prior with determination. “But later, when I’m a proper mage.”

The stars faded into darkness before their eyes as the young Lifekeepers fell out of the Transvolo void into the real world.

The real world was pitch black, filled with Omnisian stars above and with cold sand below.

“Where are we?” asked Lainuver. He tried to sound confident but his voice betrayed him.

“In Kuldagan, of course,” answered Bala, a gentle smile lighting up his voice. “I’ve been there once with my master. This is what Kuldaganian night looks like beyond city walls. If there is no moon to light the way, it’s that dark. And it’s always cold at night in the desert.”

“Did something go wrong, Pai?” asked Juel cautiously. “We were supposed to land in the city.”

“I didn’t dare risk it,” confessed the young mage. “There are too many objects there. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to calculate everything properly and would hurt someone. But we’re not far away, I swear!”

“Yeah, it’s just the dunes. They are quite lofty and obscure the view,” explained Bala. “I bet that we’d see the city right away if we climbed one. Kuldaganian cities shine like stars on the earth by night.”

“Like stars on the earth…” Milian echoed his words. And whispered,

O lovely land,

Entrancing land,

Far from woe, far from sorrows within;

As if dreams hide

Where the night sky ends, the earth begins…

It didn’t seem that he intended someone to hear his newborn poem but in the night that quiet, even whisper can be too loud to hide anything… The whole team heard the boy. Embarrassed, Milian fell silent.

“So you’re a poet, Mil…” said Orion, a strange thankfulness in his voice. “Why haven’t you ever read us anything of yours?”

“I preferred to listen to your stories instead.” Milian laughed the question away. “Let’s go. It’s getting colder and colder by the minute.”

Orion shrugged, unconvinced by his friend’s nervous laughter. What kind of storyteller was he if he couldn’t even notice a poet beside him? Orion made a promise to himself to shut up the next time someone asks him for another story so Milian would have a chance to shine as well.

The dune they chose to climb was a mighty beast. It took the team a while to reach the top. Their feet sank in the sand with every step, the cold wind drained their warmth slowly but steadily, and their cloaks were no help. But all their efforts and suffering were rewarded in the end when they reached the top of the sandy monster and saw the shining lights of the city below.

Stars in the sky, stars on the earth; a place where dreams hide… All that Milian had expressed in his snatch of a poem before anyone had seen that with their own eyes. Poetry is a sister to magic, yes, but it also has a lot in common with divination. Fortune-telling.

Seeing the lights of the city and hearing its distant murmur lifted the team’s spirits again. The Lifekeepers ran down the dune with a burst of boyish laughter, eager to reach Torgor, that shining diadem crowning the dark sands.

In the cold air, their every breath was a puff of white vapour that the desert hungrily snatched away the moment it appeared; their every step was a fleeting impression in the sand, soon erased by everlasting winds; their voices were devoid of echoes, swallowed by the dunes. The desert holds few memories…

“I heard that Kuldaganian nightlife is truly something!” said Lainuver. He was so cold that his teeth chattered, making speaking difficult, but he just couldn’t wait to share his excitement.

“Oh we’ll have fun there all right!” Oasis’s happy voice joined him in the dark. “I’m so sick of Firaskian curfews!”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Bala, “but Kuldaganian nights are mostly work, not fun. It’s just too hot there by day to do anything, so the locals mostly live by night.”

“Oh…” Oasis’s enthusiasm died in an instant. “And what about the city we’re going to from here? That ‘Border’? Is it just like Torgor?”

“No,” said Bala remembering his visit to Border five years ago. His speech became slow and thoughtful. “Border’s people are diurnal. It’s a bit like Firaska: a city with walls and a little army to defend them. They have desert raiders threatening them from one side and No-Man’s-Land bandits from the other. But there are no curfews, so ‘nightlife’ is a thing there, yes. I think you’ll like it!” He tried to sound cheerful and supportive but with the cold that cruel, even Bala couldn’t be his usual self.

Kuldagan is a land of mystery. Formally, it’s a part of the South but in terms of magic, it’s an anomaly. Torgor is the last city where magic is reliable; further north, casting spells is a gamble. The closer you are to Border, the city guarding the entrance to the No Man’s Land, the higher the stakes in that gamble are. That’s why no mage ever takes their Transvolo further than Torgor.

Torgor is a big, busy city, similar to Mirumir in many ways, zigarella smoke excluded. There are little shops, cafés, and dlars (local inns) on every corner and a spectacular market in the central square where all kinds of curiosities from around the world are sold.

The cult of Ancestors’ purity is still a thing in Torgor but it’s slowly fading, losing its influence to the massive multicultural flow of merchants and tourists passing through the city every day. Most of the Torgor locals still look somewhat like the city’s first people: Arnika who was a blue-eyed, brown-skinned redhead and Vadro, her husband, who had pale skin, grey eyes, and silver hair. But very few modern Torgorians are perfect copies of their Ancestors nowadays.

To everyone but Bala who had already been to Torgor, seeing so many similar faces seemed creepy. The boys couldn’t help commenting on that, though in very hushed voices not to be overheard by the locals.

Juel, trying to mend the team's morale, made an unusual decision upon their arrival at the city: he allowed his teammates to spend their money freely. They had saved a lot by having their own mage learn Transvolo instead of hiring a specialist and even earned some with Lainuver’s and Oasis’s shadow business, so he could allow such a gesture.

The trick worked like magic! Soon, Juel’s warriors were laughing again, happy with all the souvenirs, treats, and books they got from the market. But Juel himself couldn’t even crack a smile; in the gloomy light of his true mission, the whole world seemed dreary to the young Faizul. He left the others to their fun and went away to look for a caravan that would agree to take them along. Beyond Torgor, joining a caravan is the only sure way to reach another city alive; you don’t walk the dune sea alone unless you are a Wanderer.

To Juel’s teammates' credit, they didn’t forget about their duty amidst the fun and bought a set of proper desert clothes for every team member – thick, layered, woollen cloak, jacket, and trousers – to keep both daily heat and nightly cold at bay. Bala went through several dlars asking people everything about the desert and its “aren”, which meant much more than just “sand” in the local tongue. “Aren is sand, glass, and monolith,” Kuldaganians said, “but only Wanderers still remember how to tame the third – monolith – aspect.” That was an interesting but not very useful piece of information. The useful one was about maskaks. Bala told Irin everything about those creatures and stressed the importance of spotting and killing them in time so they wouldn’t tell their bandit masters about the approaching caravan. Irin took Bala’s warning very seriously and promised to be on alert. He even visited a local smithy and bought himself an extra hundred of arrows for the journey. Jet-black, with striped feathers and barbed arrowheads, they looked deadly.

That night, filled with shopping, asking around, looking around, and enjoying the exotic city, turned out to be so exhausting that the boys fell asleep in their rented room just where their exhaustion had caught up with each of them: at the table, on the floor, among the backpacks… Orion was snoring by the door where he had collapsed after stumbling over the doorstep. He had overestimated his stamina a bit while tasting local alcohol.

That was how Juel found his team after a rowdy night. For a while, the mighty Faizul just stood there, at a loss what to do, then looked at the lukewarm sky, sighed, and curled up in the nearest bed like a big, heavy cat. He knew he could trust his inner “clock” to wake him up in time. And he needed a nap after a sleepless night too.

Bala, the most responsible one of the lot, woke up even earlier than Juel and made a hurry-up breakfast for the team and a simple sobering potion for Orion.

Refreshed but still sleepy, the Lifekeepers paid for the room and headed to the gates to catch up with their caravan.

The merchant the caravan belonged to, an elderly woman, frowned as she saw the young warriors. That they were young, she knew (Juel had told her that), what she didn’t expect, though, was a gaggle of kids. She gave Juel a grim, reproachful look. He replied with ardent praise and swore that each of his teammates would be worth at least three bandits in a battle and that having a master archer in the caravan might even save them a battle altogether. That was the longest speech Juel’s teammates had ever heard from him. Their leader could be eloquent when he wanted! Finally, the old merchant nodded in approval. Lifekeepers did have a good reputation, even young ones, after all.