The MageStaff

The Light Prepares

Leander settled back into his body. Coloured light played across him, streaming from a skylight set in the rock high above, making him seem otherworldly. The council stood around watching - Farath, Julius, Menisk, Senisk and, of course, Seria.

He sighed deeply and looked at each of the members of the Council. Farath, standing tall and steady; eyes, set in a strong square face, deep and penetrating; muscular arms folded across a broad chest - a man to lean on whenever called upon to do so, a pillar of strength.

Julius, tall and thin with a long face, an aquiline nose and shoulder length blonde hair. His eyes looking down his nose at everything around him. Although looking the youngest, he was actually almost as old as Farath and almost as experienced ... almost, but not quite. Not that he’d accepted that yet.

Menisk and Senisk, like two old men from different worlds, which, in a way, they were. Menisk lean, wrinkled and wizened with eyes that gleamed out of side-glances, dressed in a dark robe with a black flowing cloak. Senisk, plump and seemingly slow, accepting the world around him as if all was in its natural order even when it wasn’t. His sandy robes making him seem almost part of the rock and earth. Seria, calm and serene as ever; eyes watching Leander carefully from within their protection of her long, black hair; her silver robes falling to her feet.

It is time for me to leave, Leander said, with no preamble. They had been together far too long to play games. I must rest and prepare.

Seria gasped. She had prepared herself for news but not of this nature. Leander looked at her, his gaze resting gently on her face. It will not be for long, Seria. I will return, as I have done before. He looked at each one of the council, making eye contact, assessing their reaction.

I will leave you in being, continued Leander, but not in thought. When I return, you may need to ... ah ... refresh my memory. Each member of the council frowned. "I am planning to leave this physical behind this time. So, when I return, it will be new, I will be new and I will need to be awoken to the inner of myself. I will rely on each one of you to rekindle that knowledge but, and this is most important, you must allow the new me to find my own memories. You must guide, not teach. Just as you do with the acolytes. I must find my own strength from within.

The Dark grows and one will be needed to be stronger than the others; one must fulfil the prophecy and his strength must come from inside, from the centre of his being, that part which links with Sharach and all that is. That one is me. I must prepare and return anew and afresh to have any chance of stopping this madness. We have rehearsed this many times but this time will be no rehearsal. This is the last chance we have. He paused as he watched the news sink in.

Farath, as always, I leave you in charge. I will be but a thought away.

Farath bowed his head in acquiescence; I am ever ready to serve, my Lord.

Always Farath, said Julius with feeling. Why do you not leave one of us in charge? Why must it always be Farath? Are we not sufficiently prepared? Are we not able? You always say we are of equal strength and yet it is always Farath who leads when you are not here. How do we learn to lead if we are not given the chance?

Leander swung towards Julius and sighed. Yes, you are all of equal strength, Julius, but each in your own way. It is always this way so that we can each understand, practice and fulfil our part of what is to come. We must be sure, within ourselves that we can fulfil that which we have started. Now is not the time for trial and error or for testing. You know this, Julius. Any error now will be fatal. Your job is your job. You have practised and are prepared for it. Likewise, Farath has practised his many times. Why do you persist in wanting that which is not yours?

It may be, one day, replied Julius, boldly. I am next in line after Farath. I need to gain the experience.

Rest assured, Julius, if we fail this time, there will be no ‘after Farath’. Right now, all we need is the experience you already have not that which you may gain. Providing we are successful, your time will come. Be patient, play your part now and, one day, you will be the Lord of Discipline and Learning.

Julius frowned, eyes dancing, bright, alive and not assured. It is easy for you to say, Lord Leander. It is not so easy to do.

Leander sighed again, I am aware of this, Julius. Be guided by your insight, by us and by Sharach. Surely, you need nothing more.

I have heard, said the one called Julius, and I await your return. All praise to the High Lord. And the young-looking Council member turned and left the chamber, a little too quickly, Leander thought. He was not convinced that Julius was settled in his part.

We will need to watch carefully Farath, he said, especially when I return.

Oh, I think Julius means you no harm, wheezed Menisk. We must all keep our options open, must we not? After all, no-one knows what is to come.

Sharach does, Leander answered firmly. Do you also question the path Menisk?

No, no, wheedled the crinkled, aged looking man, watching Leander from the corner of his eyes, his wheezing suddenly disappearing. It is just that we should be prepared for anything, surely?

I agree we must be prepared for anything, Menisk, but not separately, not as individuals. The Council must stand firm together. We will not survive if we try to do this alone. I have seen enough to know that this is Sharach’s will and the need for the future. We must be united, stated Leander.

I have heard, said the one called Menisk, and I, too, will await your return. All praise to the High Lord. He gave Leander a penetrating look from the corner of his eyes, smiled as his words gave more portent than they seemed, turned with a flourish of his dark cape and left the chamber in a blur of movement.

Again Leander sighed, We cannot afford dissension now, Farath. You must resolve this while I am away.

I will try, said Farath. As tall and strong as he appeared, Leander was not convinced he would succeed. ‘One more thing for me to do on my return’, he thought, ‘but time is running out’.

Does anyone else have anything to say? Leander looked around the chamber from one to the other.

Senisk coughed.

Well? queried Leander.

It ... ah ... just ... ah ... appears ... that ... well ... that ... ummm ... leaving now may not be the ... ah ... wisest choice ... Lord Leander ... um ... with the greatest respect ... of course.

Leander looked fondly at the plump old man, in the dishevelled tunic and sandy robe standing before him. At least this man looked more like the cleric he was than the worker of spells that was Menisk’s domain. His round nose bounced in his round face as his cheeks quivered with his words and he blinked rapidly as his eyes moved around the room, not quite sure where he should look.

You may be right, Senisk, but there is no other way, Leander replied gently, Sharach has spoken.

Senisk nodded wisely, Then it shall be as predicted. Have a safe trip Lord Leander. Return to us rested and ready. I look forward to helping you then. I have heard. All praise to the High Lord, and for once, Senisk did not hesitate with his words or his actions. He turned and left the chamber.

Leander looked from Farath to Seria.

I do not think it will be long, he said.

I will miss you, replied Farath.

I too, said Seria, softly and tenderly, with more feeling than a simple farewell. She looked Leander deep in the eyes and gently shook her straight dark hair so that a ripple passed from the parting on top all the way to her shoulders. The ripple seemed to carry through the room as a shudder.

Leander looked back with as much tenderness and with as much strength as he could muster. He whispered. Please, leave me now, and it took all he had.

We have heard. All praise to the High Lord, intoned Seria and Farath together and both turned and left Leander alone.

Again he sighed. He looked up into the light, gaining reassurance. The light brightened, shining in purity onto Leander, becoming more intense and filling the room. As it reached its brightest, there was a flash, the light rescinded rapidly ... and the one called Leander was no more.

It had started.

The Dark Prepares

The screen fizzled and popped. Hanging in mid-air and surrounded by a silver rim, the picture inside was not clear. Fuzzy figures moved in a chamber. All except one, sitting on a chair with light playing across him.

Gingkol spat and murmured a few words, using more energy. The screen cleared a little, the figures becoming clearer.

In the darkness of the cave it was all that could be seen.

Gingkol watched and listened. He had waited long and knew the time was soon coming. He had to be ready, and to be ready he had to know what the Light were doing. He concentrated on his screen again, using even more energy. This time he could clearly see the faces and hear their words.

He saw the shock register as the Council realised that Leander was leaving. He had expected Leander to prepare but this was new. He started his sending. Julius was the weakest. Gingkol had felt his desire before and knew he wanted to do and be more than he ever was. Gingkol sent into his screen, trying to forge a bond, trying to create a split in the council. He felt, and heard, Julius respond as Farath was named leader. For a few moments, he was able to push Julius to see he could have more and he felt Julius burn as his desire to lead was rejected. He released his sending as Julius turned and left the chamber.

Gingkol gave a sigh. He knew it was not much but it was a start.

He turned his attention to the rest of the council. Menisks’ eyes glittered and Gingkol saw more in them than light. Perhaps, he even saw dark. Again he sent his power through his screen. He knew that little got through but he knew, with ages of experience, that little was all that was needed. The individual did the rest themselves. Men were so easy to control.

Menisk wanted more. He knew he was further down the order than Julius, so he did not dare hope to lead. Gingkol knew that Menisk sought power. Power for himself. He fed the thought in Menisk and watched as the youngest of the Council responded, not even realising the thoughts were not entirely his own.

Again, Gingkol sighed. Each sending took great effort and left him weaker. These were small steps but he knew that every step counted. They would bear fruit later, he was sure. He watched Menisk leave.

Senisk, Gingkol knew of old, allowed his thoughts to wander too far to be controlled. He lived in the moment, with no desire for self. Gingkol spat in loathing as Senisk made his obeisance and left the chamber. ‘Be gone, little man,’ he thought.

The remaining three were strong. Farath was untouchable - Gingkol had tried. Seria was too experienced in her arts to not feel his touch if he tried, and he could not afford to be known at this early stage. Leander was even more sensitive. Their only weakness now was through each other. Their feelings for each other were the only way he thought he might get in.

Gingkol then understood why Leander had made his decision. He needed a fresh start without the influences of his past, especially his feelings for Seria. A new personality, reacting only to its instinct, the within of itself, with no distractions would be the strongest weapon for the light.

Gingkol thought for a few moments, an idea forming in the dark mists of his mind. As it condensed he changed the scene on his screen from the chamber in which the Council had met to a picture of a dark castle perched precariously atop a mountain peak. The Castle was black, with even blacker holes on its sides. It rose from the rock, reaching for the sky with dark fingers, spiky and misshapen. On its tallest spire stood a huge dark figure. The sky was black with lightning streaking around the points of the fingers.

‘So’, he thought to himself, ‘you plan to return anew, do you? Good, good. This time, however, you will not be alone’. Gingkol shuffled to his screen and stepped through.

In the picture on the screen, a dark shape took form as it spread its’ wings. A black dragon with reflections glinting off obsidian scales then swallowed by shadow. It flew across the valley, heading for the castle and the black figure.

The Dark had a plan.

****

Prologue

****

The storm stilled. The frenzy of time whipping past quietened. There was silence in the pause. A strong, perfect silence. Complete in itself. The sudden silence of a world stopping.

He had left it all behind. His friends, his life, everything that had mattered to him. All he had known and had been fell away and he rolled into the void. Strange fantasies and harsh realities came at him now. Mystical dreams and earthy elements merged and took him. A cluster of chaotic experiences assailed him all at once. Whatever he thought was his reality, until the next thought.

He surrounded himself with mist then made it into sunlight. He turned the daylight into night. He could be anything, go anywhere. He heard his friends beckon and gently prised himself loose from their call. He was different now; more than he ever was before and he felt absolute joy.

Light surrounded him, glorious light streaming through his creations, pervading his dreams, his fantasies and his realities. A myriad of colour filled the light, swirling around him and past him and on, creating a tunnel twisting into the future. And he followed.

Around and around. Forward and around and around. Falling in lazy circles through the gently twisting tunnel of colour and light he spiralled carefully down like a feather in a soft breeze destined for the ground.

As he touched down, the light became denser. The colours coalesced to pink and red, to the colour of flesh. The tunnel became tighter, constricting his movements and pulsing with a life of its own. He fought his way through, fighting to regain his freedom, struggling to reach the light. From behind he felt a pressure, a push. He fought on. One final effort and he broke free.

He cried out in anguish with the loss of the freedom that he had felt, the feeling of his recent journey and, with a shock, he realised his reality of now. It had seemed such a short journey but he knew he had returned.

He had been born.

In the distance, he heard a cry echo his own.

****

PART ONE

****

Chapter 1 of the Light Side

From Home and Hearth

Orrath. Orrath, where are you?

He could hear his mother, muffled by the distance and the cave walls. He knew he must go. He also knew that he could stretch it for a few more moments. He always enjoyed it here. He felt at home. Warm, snug and protected. He thought that it might even be better than his mother's kitchen.

There, everything was ordered and in its place. Shining pots and pans hung from glistening overhead beams. Gleaming spoons and ladles and long strange looking tools hung around the walls or were laid out in line on one or other of the scrubbed tabletops.

The log fire crackled in the hearth and whatever was in the pot, and there was always something in the pot, bubbled and plopped, enticing the listener to stay and taste and enjoy. The delicious aromas of her cooking mixed with the sterile smell of scrubbed wood, stone, steel and brass created a heady, stringent aura of expectation and release.

There was always activity in the kitchen. When she wasn’t cooking or preparing food, Orrath’s mother was cleaning. Washing, wiping, dusting, brushing. Not a speck of dirt survived. Orrath had learnt a long time ago to stay clear of his mother if he wanted to do nothing. She always had work to do and was not shy in dishing it out. She believed idle hands to be a threat to life and limb, and whatever else came to mind, as she taught her children to work hard and then clean up.

Orrath felt he was provided for and looked after but the memories were then immediately cleaned and cleared away. Erased.

Here, in the cave, however, everything was just naturally in its place. The rock walls were hung around with litchen and moss and smaller pieces of rock lay strewn across the floor just where they fell.

Water dripped slowly and steadily somewhere towards the very back, deep in the recesses, providing a constant, reassuring melody. And the smell. Oh, how Orrath enjoyed the earthy, natural tone to the air that came from the age-old solid rock and the more recent sand and dirt that covered the floor. The time he spent here was simply time spent here. Nothing to actually do. No chores to perform and no need to clean anything up or tidy it away.

Here, also, was where Lhogarth spent most of his time. Occasionally he left to hunt and eat or to go where he knew he was needed for a period (Orrath was never quite sure where that was) but he always returned to this cave, to his spot at the back, at the end to the left. So the smells were of warmth, safety and security; long-standing aromas that were never washed away; odours of Lhogarth.

For as long as he could remember, Orrath had been climbing up here to the cave. Even before he had learnt to walk, it felt. He had been drawn here by something inexplicable, something that pulled at him on the inside. Something that was a part of him and he a part of it. Something beyond conscious thought.

He could remember the first time he had entered the cave, stumbling over the few rocks at the entrance, driven by this feeling that tugged at him. Intrigued and somehow re-assured by the low rumbling within and with the childlike innocence and trust that comes from being somewhere totally familiar and comfortable, he could remember walking into the darkness.

Since that first time, he had found his way to the cave as often as possible, spending as much time here as he did at his home. Well, this was his home, more than his home in many ways. Here, he could just be. No work, no reasons, nothing to get in his way. Just himself, his feelings, his thoughts, and Lhogarth, of course. Although, by this time, they were so comfortable together that it was just like being alone. Nothing was ever forced. Neither tried to lead or control the other. There was never anything more in their togetherness than just being together. They thought and felt and learnt as one.

With Lhogarth, he was learning a different way of being than his parents could teach him. Feeling, thought, action and effect. Feel, think, act, or cause to act and live with the result. Power from within. Answers from within. He had learnt very early in their relationship not to question and expect an answer from Lhogarth. His answers always came from himself. Lhogarth just helped him find where and how to look.

You had better go, he felt Lhogarths’ thoughts.

With a deep sigh, he got up and wandered to the entrance of the cave. He looked back, communed briefly with Lhogarth at a level far beyond speech, turned and headed out of the cave down to his waiting and impatient mother.

Why you spend so much time in that blessed cave, I'll never know, his mother started and he knew better than to stop her. From dawn 'till dusk you'd spend there if I let you. You'd probably even sleep there given half a chance. And you not even smirled yet.

Of course he would sleep there. In fact, he had several times already, although only during the day. He didn’t think he could get out of the small house his family lived in or the bed he shared with his brothers at night without being heard or seen, and he knew they would never understand if he was caught.

He couldn't wait for his smirling. He felt the need to be finished with all this growing business. Of course, even at this age, he was wise enough to keep that thought from his mother.

And what you find to do up there together goes beyond me. How much time do you think you waste there when you could be bettering your mind, studying, learning new things as a child your age should be doing? Your time will come soon enough, mark my words. You'll wish you spent more time with your friends, churling or gurning or chorleying. That way you would at least be exercising, building new muscles. You'll need them later, you mark my words. Well, don't just stand there, go inside, wash and make sure all the gurns are fed before you eat. And with a final flick of that strand of hair that always seemed to be dangling across her left eye, she strode off, probably to find the next unfortunate to load on.

Orrath made his way to the back shed, took out the grain and threw it around the yard for the gurns. One of the gurns strutted up, stretched, flapped its wings and made as if to fly. Gurns always seemed to be trying to fly. You would have thought that, by now, they would have accepted their land-bound fate. Well, maybe one day, one of them would get it right.