THREE
“THIS TURN MARKS the end of the fourth moon of your training.” Fortunatus stood with his staff before him, regarding the two combatants. One wore the white robe of the Magi, the other the red robe of a Sword Thane. Both projected an equal aura of expectation. “The lighted hours have been long and arduous. The nights have been restless, I am sure. Now, let us see how far you have progressed…
“Begin!”
Each man raised his sword and saluted his opponent. The blades glowed with a rippling of purple-violet, attuned to the crimson aura of their shields.
As always, Ryder faced Mendiko. At their last challenge, now a full moon past, he had lost—as he had expected. Yet his skill had increased with each turn. The training was intense, but he had pushed himself long after the Pat’Riark called a halt. He was ready.
They circled, gauging each other’s strengths and weaknesses.
No one was more surprised at the speed of his learning than Ryder himself. It was almost as if he’d done these tasks many times before. The diamond-shaped stars of Ryl forming his shield now molded themselves against his body, held in place by the force of his will. He was no longer even conscious of doing so. A far cry from the early turns when extreme effort could hold them for only a few seconds before they clattered to the earth. Even a full moon later in moments of stress they would fall, giving noisy testament to his ineptitude. Yet such was the case no longer.
Mendiko struck first, a powerful overhand slash that Ryder easily deflected with his sword. The air hummed like an angry swarm of bees. Each time their swords touched, there was a brilliant flash of light and a small clap of thunder.
Ryder feinted then drove inward, thrusting with his point. It was a dangerous move since it left the attacker vulnerable. The transition of power from sword to shield must be an instantaneous flux, not wrenching but flowing smoothly—a perfect coalescence of unity and dichotomy. It was a hard skill to master. It resembled a man running forward at full tilt, suddenly shifting to run backward at equal speed.
Mendiko deflected with his shield and countered with a thrust. Ryder danced away, saving his energy, relying not upon his weapons but his natural agility. They exchanged a quick series of blows. Each man countered adroitly, and then they circled once more.
Ryder knew from past encounters his reflexes were superior. Nature had also gifted him with great physical strength and stamina. The training had intensified both, yet sword-skill was not a thing of the body alone. The body channeled the energy to the sword and shields, but the mind directed. And through the mind flowed the Aether, the energy of the Source. Energy, control, and power; the Source, the mind, and the sword—the Pyramid of Power.
The expenditure of energy was stupendous. The harder the sword blow, or the greater the shield defense, the more rapidly this store of energy depleted. Not even an Adept could replenish it fast enough when in the throes of combat. One eventually grew weakened to the point where defense became inadequate, and there was no option but to cry quarter. Victory was not only a matter of skill with sword and shield. It relied equally on the ability to marshal and direct one’s forces proficiently and economically.
Mendiko had proven worthier in both respects, yet Ryder swore it would not be so in this contest.
They exchanged another flurry of rapid strokes, each of them moving faster than any normal man would have thought possible. Already their breaths labored and their skins glowed with a sheen of sweat. Sixty seconds had passed. Rarely did a contest pass beyond two minutes.
Mendiko’s face was a study of concentration mirroring his, yet there was no animosity between them. Rivalry existed without a doubt. Yet from the strangeness of their beginning, they had steadily progressed toward a relationship as close as blood brothers. Or sword brothers.
Ryder increased his focus, forcing calm. The measured voice of Fortunatus suddenly echoed in his mind. ‘To touch the Metals is to touch power, for they are a ladder to the Source. The struggle up each rung is hard, yet it is natural for those who follow the path to reach as high as they can. Ever has it been the way from the beginning—the time of the first sword-brethren. Even then they would test themselves against each other to judge their progress. There is room in the Code for this.’
Their blows came with greater frequency and force as each man exerted himself to his limit.
Ryder imagined he heard the roaring of thunder in his ears. Curiously, though his body felt lighter, his sword had become heavier.
Mendiko feinted and then thrust swiftly. Ryder was late in countering. The blow slipped past his guard and struck his shield with such force it buckled. He felt an instant numbness in his leg and staggered back. Mendiko instantly pressed forward, sensing victory, though his next thrust lacked the force of the previous one—or so it appeared.
Ryder realized his mistake an instant too late. Mendiko pivoted skillfully, reversed his grip on his sword, and jabbed back under his arm.
There was no time to parry. In desperation, Ryder flooded power to his shield, even as he felt the numbing coldness cave in upon his flesh. Only his reflexes saved him. He threw up his sword, catching it in his other hand, and the thought flashed across his mind. You will lose again!
Recklessness forced him to attempt a move he had practiced since witnessing the incredible feat of the Magi during the storm. There had been no opportunity to test it as yet, but now there was no other option.
He expanded his shield, forming it into the shape of a pincer and clasping it around Mendiko’s sword. The Sword Thane’s back was to him since he had not yet completed the act of turning. With all his remaining strength, Ryder brought down his weapon on the exposed shoulder.
Mendiko must have sensed the blow. He tried to parry but found his blade blocked. His shield remained loosely formed and the blow struck him squarely. A groan of pain escaped his lips and his sword slipped from nerveless fingers.
Ryder had time for an instant of elation before his leg buckled and he fell. Only the sword still clutched tightly in his good hand prevented him from landing on his face.
“Hold!”
Fortunatus moved between them. His expression was stern, yet his eyes glowed with satisfaction as he knelt and picked up Mendiko’s sword, handing it back to him. He then lowered himself to the grassy sward. With great care, he arranged his robes and laid his staff across his knees, gesturing for them to sit in front of him.
The pain of Ryder’s wound gradually subsided and he noticed his surroundings. They were in a glade surrounded by trees, near the high walls of the Korda. The natural sounds had gradually returned, for the place no longer echoed with the eager cries of battle. He could hear the gurgling of the stream that rested just beyond the tree line. A chirping bird chose that moment to alight on a nearby limb and happily fluttered its wings.
As Fortunatus spoke, Ryder saw Mendiko turn his head and watch him, his face creased in a sad smile.
“I have taught you the Pyramid of Power and you have learned it well,” the Pat’Riark said. “You are Sword Thane!”
Ryder could not describe the feeling that overcame him. Part wonder and joy without a doubt, yet even more was the anticipation. He realized the road ahead of him was far wider and longer than the one he had already traveled.
“For all their glorious attributes the sword and shields are but metal, non-sentient conduits of power. The mind is far more. Its potential for expression is unlimited and unbound by any law. Have I not said it ties directly to the Source? What can bind the Primum Mobile...the origin of all that was, is, and might be?”
Fortunatus focused his gaze upon Ryder. “I have taught you that your mind is a seashore lined with caverns. You have swum the waters and reached the shore. Now you must open the caverns. You are Sword Thane.” His voice became tinged with a subtle hint of warning. “You now possess the tools to advance further…but there is a barrier.
“You have done what no other Initiate has done before you, progressing at an astonishing pace. Yet we expected this, for did you not already summon the Flame? Yet truthfully, you re-affirm my belief that higher powers direct you. You are the fulfiller of prophecy. That same power put me in your path to guide you to a certain stage and prepare you for the hour already appointed. Yet you must still cross the barrier to High Power…the level of the Adept.
“It is a formidable barrier, seemingly as impenetrable as a force field. Yet once crossed it appears as insubstantial as the morning mist before the sun.”
Fortunatus closed his eyes. His lids fluttered as though he watched some enactment taking place in another world. “I remember my experience, so long ago yet still glowing in memory like the morning star. As a youth, I was uncomfortable among my kind. This made me a solitary wanderer mired deep in the wellspring of loneliness, with no one to guide me—or so I thought. Mendiko has told you of my introduction to the Metals. It was a gift I can never repay, a debt forever owed to the water race.
“I spoke of caverns in the mind. Since I was a thinker and a dreamer, I explored them naturally. I had many glimpses of the Source over the long cycles I strove to break the barrier. Yet even now I do not know how I managed it. I was like a man walking on an arid plain, journeying toward a far-off mountain. Looking back, I could easily see my footsteps stretching into the distance; yet in front of me the mountain stood no nearer, even though it towered above me, looking so close I could touch it.
“I cannot describe the moment of incredible joy when I opened my eyes and found myself standing upon the summit, the Flame glowing brightly from my sword. I have stood on the mountain many times since, and I now realize something I did not see then. There is another barrier...another mountain looming beyond the first. I have tried to get closer so I might see it clearer, but I cannot. I suspect even were I to reach it, there would be another…and yet another beyond it. Many planes and many existences lie beyond ours. And now a different and grimmer thought weighs heavily upon me. It may be the Metals themselves preventing me from seeing further.”
They gazed at him in shock. He smiled back, nodding his head in understanding.
“You think I blaspheme, I who am more closely tied to them than any other. Yet it may have been an unconscious recognition of this that led me to trade the sword for the staff. If so, it was badly done, for I have deceived myself. For me at least, the next mountain is not of the physical plane. Only when my spirit wanders free of these mortal chains will I have my reward. I shall stand there then and see what now I cannot.
“As for this moment,” he said, drawing himself up, “a man must learn to walk before he can run. You must find the mountain, Ryder Talisman, and stand upon it. We have taken you as far as we can.”
He was once more full of vigor…his old self. Ryder could not understand how a man so full of life could talk of endings.
“Word has come from Brigantia. They will hold a feast of high honor for the Rianna of Faerwyn-Joss in celebration of her majority.” Fortunatus raised his hands. “I anticipate your request, Sword Thane. We are invited.” His smile was mocking. “I am sure you will not mind the diversion.”
Ryder could not keep the excitement from his face, and he noticed Mendiko grinning at him.
“We set sail on the morrow’s eve, which will put us there near the proper time.” Fortunatus nodded at the prince. “A mind focused too long upon one thing becomes stale. Take him to Thunder-Fell. Let him see the Falls of Sharn and the wonder living there. Yet do not be late in returning.”
***
“What is troubling you, Mendiko?” Ryder asked. “You are even more silent than usual.” He waited, but there was no reply forthcoming, so they continued walking. Each carried a heavy pack filled with foodstuffs, utensils, bedding, and a waterproof slicker that would double as a tent. They planned to remain on the mountain overnight.
Mendiko had set a rigorous pace. They had a respectful distance to travel if they wanted to reach their destination before nightfall. They had prepared in haste, leaving well before the middle hour. Although Ryder had only a rough idea where they were heading (he could hardly mistake the looming presence of the majestic mountain in front of them) Mendiko insisted he knew the quickest way and would say no more.
The sun passed overhead as they reached the foothills. The slope steepened and the sea became a thin, low-lying band of velvet-blue far to the rear. It was noticeably cooler as the landscape altered to the lush green of a rainforest.
As the humidity rose, so did the numbers of pests whining and buzzing around their heads. They were frustrated in their attempts, unable to penetrate the shields of the two Sword Thanes. Ryder was curious, wondering why the Genetic Engineers would be so detailed in their reconstructive efforts. His question elicited the first reply from Mendiko since the beginning of their journey—albeit a brief one.
“They serve no purpose save for annoyance. They are the whim of Mad Galen. He was famous for his pranks, and they are one of his less glowing efforts.” The prince’s look suggested a hidden secret. “Soon you will see a more magnificent example.”
To Ryder’s frustration, his companion immediately retreated into silence.
They continued onward and steadily upward. Ryder could see no sign of a trail, yet Mendiko moved unerringly, dodging and weaving as though this were some strange part of the training. Many of the trees bore massive trunks centuries-old. Among them were teak and mahogany, mango, avocado, and sweetsop, to name only a few.
His eyes suddenly caught the furtive movement of a wild manicou as it darted among the trees, its feeding disturbed by their passage. There was no shortage of food for the creature. They passed wild bananas and grapefruit and orange, and he recognized the hanging husks of cocoa. Such a cornucopia of nature’s bounty gave the air a heady scent of fermentation.
They traveled another hour until Ryder could stand it no longer. “Too much silence is unhealthy.”
“It is my only defense against your endless questions,” Mendiko countered.
“You’re a sore loser,” Ryder flung back.
Mendiko stopped and whirled, a scowl covering his face. Ryder offered him a teasing grin, and the prince’s expression gradually altered to match it. “It was a tie.”
The first drops of rain came thin and soft. They had time to shelter beneath the widespread branches of a huge mango before the shower turned to a deluge that masked the surrounding forest. Moments later, it stopped as quickly as it had begun.
Ryder looked above him as scattered drops fell onto his head and slid down his face. Hundreds of succulent mangoes dangled within arm’s reach, looking so tasty he decided he had to have one. Mendiko followed his example. Within seconds, the sweet syrup lay plastered over their faces. They grinned at each other like two successful thieves and wiped the juice with wet leaves stolen from the same tree.
“We have made good time,” Mendiko declared, studying the light and nodding in satisfaction. “Let us rest for a spell.”
They sat down and made themselves comfortable on the huge, gnarled roots, which made perfect seats.
“I worry about the Pat’Riark,” Mendiko began. “His mood…all this talk of finality. It’s not like him to be so morose. There is little doubt it is due to your appearance and all it signifies.”
Ryder nodded. “This Saydin Mak Doom business.”
Mendiko’s response held a note of religious fervor. “The ancient scrolls tell us the people of Cloister lost their faith in the old religions after witnessing the devastation of the Norn. They believed God had betrayed them. Whether this view was right or wrong, it was profound and final. Even at the time of Deliverance, no philosophy or code of behavior had risen to replace the old.
“There was order, upheld by the new nobility. Yet even as the new empire expanded, none of the strange or otherworldly beliefs seemed to fit. It was not until the rise of the Swordkind that a creed appeared to fill the gap. In truth, it came only with the Magi. Unto them has fallen the mantle of religion, the responsibility of an intermediary—an Order if you will—which may intercede with the unknown.”
Being bereft of memory, Ryder didn’t know whether or not he had been religious. Yet logic told him the perfection of the universe could not have been happenstance. Some being with power beyond comprehension must have created it, though what such a being might be like he would not hazard a guess.
“I will try to explain what I have so often heard from Fortunatus,” Mendiko continued. “This too was a part of my training, and I shall make it yours.
“There is a oneness, a Source overlying all. For whatever reason, this entity—this Supreme Being called by many names—created the opposition of forces, the dyad of reality. This act of creation set in motion the impetus of Time, yet the forces remain in stasis. Have you not noticed that for everything there is an equal and opposite?”
“Good and Evil?”
Mendiko nodded. “Darkness and Light; positive-creative and negative-destructive. When one or the other upsets the balance, there is a great upheaval…yet always there is a return to equanimity.”
“Like the Norn,” Ryder observed.
“In the endless cycles beyond counting there have been many such upheavals. Yet the universe perpetuates itself. We can only hope for a continuation of this balance, for another surely approaches.”
“And yet, if the Source is responsible for both the Darkness and the Light, who is to say which is wrong and which is right?” Ryder wondered aloud.
“That is the paradox even the greatest minds cannot fully explain.” Mendiko rubbed his chin, glancing uncertainly at his companion. “The most logical explanation came from a Genetic Engineer—a brilliant man now long dead. He reasoned that in the beginning there was only the pure energy of the Source. This energy knew on a purely subjective level it existed, yet it longed to experience itself objectively…to look back and enjoy the limitless wonder of its perfection.
“To do this, it split itself into distinct parts, creating this plethora of wonders we know as Reality—a self-perpetuating and never-ending cycle of experience. As favored creatures of this reality, we have independent thought and action, yet we remain a part of the Source. It cannot be otherwise. Whatever caused ‘this’ remains All-There-Is, an entity greater than the sum of the parts.
“This is the paradox. How can we with our puny intellect understand what is beyond understanding? It may be as Fortunatus believes. We can only know Truth when we have crossed over from this plane, returning to the Source. Until then a man must act according to his nature...what he deems is the right path.”
Mendiko raised himself brusquely from his seat. “But these are weighty matters not in keeping with the purpose of our journey. We have come for diversion. Let us continue now, for I wish to reach the falls before the light fades.”
They traveled for another hour. Ryder honored Mendiko’s silence, even though he burned with a million questions. Their track curved around the mountain until they could see the summit: a distant and misty crown lying atop white-covered slopes. At the very edge of the snow line, a silver spiral of wind-driven snow rose to stain the darkening sky.
True to his word, Mendiko reached the falls at twilight’s last gleaming. They heard the roar long before they saw it. The sound grew until they broke through the trees.
The fall was a single sheet of water cascading a hundred meters before splitting apart. The wind eddies near the bottom turned it to mist that swirled and floated like a ribbon. Droplets flicked past their heads, and the warmth of their touch surprised Ryder. At the base was a plunge pool: an urn-like depression spilling into another falls only two meters high.
Below this was a bowl the height of a man’s waist. On either side grew thick vegetation above short grass, giving it the look of an exotic garden.
The scene was rich in beauty and enchantment, yet Ryder felt disappointed. After Mendiko’s earlier taunt, he had expected something even more wondrous.
“What do you think?” the Sword Thane asked, studying him intently.
“It’s beautiful,” Ryder replied.
Mendiko nodded but wore a teasing grin. “The true beauty is not yet here.”
“What exactly are you expecting to see?”
“He will come when the moon is high.”
“He?”
“He is silver and moonlight, soaring high above the Earth. The sky and its clouds are his playgrounds.”
“A riddle.”
Mendiko laughed and led the way to an upright stone firmly embedded in the earth. It was the height of a man’s knee, with symbols chiseled into the surface. Ryder could not understand their meaning, but there was a familiar look to one figure.
“What does it say?”
“It is the ancient script of the Rudd.” Mendiko pointed to the glistening white peak high above them. “Long before the Cloister, in the dim ages of Earth history, this was the site of their greatest underwater city. The ancient ruins lie far above us: all that remains after the cataclysm of the Norn.” He indicated the script. “Though it is their language, it is not of Rudd origin. Galen wrote it. I know the translation only because Kronus once painstakingly deciphered it for me.”
He broke into a chant.
'The windlord comes on silver wing
When full moon lights the sky,
Unbound by Earthen weighted ring
His shadow dances high,
In anger blasts his trumpet scream
Against the chanter's spell,
Chained by Galen's madden dream
To drink at Sharn's great well.'
“I suppose I’ll just have to wait for whatever or whoever he is,” Ryder responded, beginning to think he was the victim of a prank.
“That is best,” agreed Mendiko. “Now let us find a place to lie in wait. We must choose a hidden spot with an unobstructed view. His eyes are sharp, and his ears and nose even more so. If he suspects our presence, he will not drink.” His eyes once again danced with mischief. “Where would you suppose?”
Ryder played along and studied the area. A hump jutting out over the lower falls drew his gaze. The narrow ledge was covered with foliage but looked wide enough to hold them both. “There?”
Mendiko nodded and they set about preparing themselves a hiding place for whatever was coming. When they were satisfied, there was still plenty of time, so they nibbled on the prepared food in their packs. Why they had brought it, Ryder could not say. Just as Fortunatus had foretold, he no longer required as much sustenance as before.
Darkness had fallen by the time they finished, and they settled back to wait. The moon rose in the second hour, full and sailing swiftly across the sky, tingeing the night with a subtle shade of blue. It was a hypnotic sight and blended perfectly with the music of the falls. If magic was to happen, here was the perfect backdrop.
The night drifted on, and the unchanging melody of sights and sounds was an enchantment that lulled Ryder until his lids felt leaden. For the first time in many turns he fell into a deep sleep.
He awoke with a start. Mendiko’s hand gripped his shoulder and rose to touch his lips in a gesture of silence. The moon stood high overhead, flooding the basin with an eerie blend of silver and sapphire. Mendiko leaned closer and whispered, “He comes.”
For a moment, Ryder beheld nothing. Then he saw what appeared to be a speck floating on the moon. It grew as he watched, and he recognized the movement of beating wings.
A bird?
He gaped in astonishment, convinced his eyes were playing tricks. His mind filled with wonder and delight, like a child awakening from a magical dream only to find the dream has become real.
It was a horse. Not an ordinary horse but one from the pages of mythology: Pegasus, the winged warrior, coal-black from wingtip to hoof yet glistening like burnished gold. Ryder turned his head, intent on asking Mendiko a question, but he received the same gesture of silence.
The night suddenly split with a clarion call, a scream of defiance and challenge from a lord once again entering his domain. The length and breadth of the wingspan amazed Ryder, yet he reasoned it must be so to support the giant frame.
The creature hovered forty meters above them, and the majestic head swiveled, carefully scrutinizing the area below. Ryder could feel the hesitation and wariness, and he was thankful they had taken great pains to hide.
The stallion seemed satisfied at length and landed on the near side of the falls, still prancing nervously. Some sixth sense told him all was not right, and once more the night rang with his challenge.
The echoes reverberated from the wall of water and bounced around in the basin. He came so close Ryder could have reached down and touched him. There the horse paused, gazing for a moment at his silvered reflection on the pool’s surface. His wings continued to flutter as though he was uncomfortable on the solid earth. He pawed the edge of the pool and delicately lowered his muzzle to drink.
Ryder could not say what prompted his action. Before he had time to think, he was in motion. He leapt directly outward and landed squarely upon the broad back.
The reaction was instantaneous. The great haunches bunched, and with one leap they were airborne. Ryder grabbed a handful of the silken mane and leaned forward, breathing into the stallion’s ear. “Easy, my beauty…easy.”
The piercing scream came again, this time not a challenge but rage. Ryder had time to glimpse the shocked eyes of Mendiko, his figure already dropping below as they rose at incredible speed through the mist. The spray soaked him, but he didn’t care. His hair mingled with the stallion’s mane, both whipping back into his eyes.
“Let go, you fool!” Mendiko’s voice floated up to him, not much louder than a whisper. He would not—could not obey.
They rose past the mountain’s summit and the stallion’s rage increased rather than abated. They began a frenzied dance in the clouds: gyrating, bucking, and kicking. Ryder clasped his arms around the thickly muscled neck and hung on.
They dove falcon-swift until the wind whistled in his ears. In his excitement, his shield aura had become subdued and his eyes filled with tears, blinding him. They leveled and passed low over the trees, almost scraping their tops only to rise once more. He heard his laughter trailing away. He was riding on the wings of such exhilaration it approached madness.
The suddenness of the vision was shocking. There was no difference in this respect from the occurrence aboard the ship—the very namesake of the creature he now rode. Yet at that moment it felt as though he had separated from his body, and there was utter stillness.
The old man sat across from him in front of the fire. It was night. As in the other world, the moon stood high, a full and brilliant light. Ryder knew he should recognize this man, for there was an instant feeling of kinship. He wore the intricately beaded skins of the medicine man. His hair flowed past his shoulders, steel gray and shot with traces of purest white. The aged, sun-wrinkled skin possessed the consistency of leather. The nose was large and hooked as fiercely as a hawk’s. The eyes were black and ageless, and they touched his soul.
‘Hear me, Ryder Talisman, the Sunbear. Now you ride the wind, yet the answer lies not in the wind. To find the power, you must seek the Flame. Come. Follow me and I will point you toward the way. Do not fear. Fear is the tool of the Lightless One.’
He had only the briefest glimpse of something looming behind the old man. It was a white tower. He knew that shape, even though blurred...
Before he could get any closer, the scene faded and the sensation of falling overcame him.
The abrupt return to reality was frightening and disorienting.
He was falling, head over heels.
The world spun madly. Far above him came the piercing cry of victory. The sudden sight of the ground rushing to greet him froze his heart.
And then he heard Mendiko’s voice shouting in his mind. ‘The shields…use your shields!’
He reacted even as he crashed through the upper foliage, rebounding off branches and springy boughs until he landed on the forest carpet with a loud thump that knocked the breath out of him. He rolled over and over, gasping in great gulps like a strangling fish.
Mendiko came running up to him and for a second appeared to be twins.
“By the Rim! The gods must favor you!” The prince wore a look of utter disbelief as Ryder patted himself down, amazed when he could find nothing broken.
“What madness possessed you?”
“I have no idea,” Ryder answered truthfully. “The blood of a wild and reckless people flows i