Chapter 01

Family Descent

Book One �" Divergence

Part I �" Novices

Chapter 1

March 1657

 

            Iyara paced a small circle in the dimly lit chamber. The young woman’s golden tresses caught and reflected the scant light of several candles that served as the room’s only illumination for there were no windows in her brother’s bed chamber which was located below ground, beneath the family’s residence at the SilverStar Academy. She looked around in the pale gloom and, not for the first time, her heart wept for her brother.

            She turned to look over at her twin, as she had dozens of times in the past several hours, where he lay in troubled sleep in the large bed. Even in sleep she could see the pain etched in his young features. His short blond hair, only slightly darker than her own, was rumbled by the pillows, his forehead glimmered with sweat.

            Idly she paced the room examining the furnishings within, although she knew the room nearly as well as she knew her own room. Apart from the grand velvet draped bed in the corner there was a small corner fireplace, unlit, flanked by two comfortable wing chairs with a small wood tabled betwixt them. In the other corner, on the same wall, was a bookcase laden with all manner of objects. Her finger ran gently along the rows of leather bound tomes. She touched the collection of curious stones of various hues, and trinkets collected by family members on their various trips. Across the room from the desk was a large, ornately carved armoire. It had been a family heirloom for many generations, or so their father told. Beside that was a low wood chest bound with iron that contained Korrie’s most treasured possessions. Iyara knew her brother’s spell books and note books were contained within. She kept her own in a trunk very similar.

            She walked across the ancient carpet that covered the stone floor of the bed chamber and took up a cloth that lay beside a basin of water on the bed stand. She dipped the cloth in the water and wrung out the excess before placing it across her brother’s forehead. A small moan escaped his lips but he did not waken.

            Iyara left the bedside and returned to the fireplace. She sat in one of the dark-colored chairs and sighed. How many times had she sat thus, at her brother’s bedside, when the Rhadham Syndrome that they had all inherited from their father, flared up to torture her twin, she could not count. Korrie had always suffered the worst. For days his head would pound with the dreadful pain. The elixirs their father used to ward of the worst symptoms had little or no effect on Korrie. Even the priestesses from the temple of Ilmatar who came regularly to attend the youngster could provide no relief.

            Their parents had moved Korrie into the refurbished underground tunnels that ran beneath the academy grounds like a maze of gopher tunnels. The light bothered Korrie terribly when the attacks were upon him, as did noise. Ensconced, as he was, below the grounds, the noise of daily activity at the academy did not reach him.

            From the small table beside the chair, Iyara picked up the little leather book she had set down earlier. The leather was white and impressed upon its cover was the holy symbol Ilmatar, a rose flanked by the crescents of Fariel and Silna, the two natural moons of Pedias. The emboss had been leafed in gold, as had the title, The Teachings of Delay of Bolea. Delay had been a great priestess of Ilmatar centuries ago and had recorded her teachings to be passed down. It was a book the priestesses of the temple in Orlon had given her to study when she went to them in answer to, what she believed, was a calling of the goddess.

            In a few short weeks, after she and Korrie graduated from the academy, she was to enter the temple as a novice to be initiated into the order. She opened the book to begin reading where she had left. She set the silk ribbon which had marked her place on the small table and in the dim candlelight began to read again. She had no trouble making out the words in the dim light for from her mother she had inherited keen night vision.

 

            Iyara awoke with a start. The book lay open where it had fallen in her lap when she slipped into sleep. She blinked her golden amber eyes to dismiss the haze of sleep and heard her brother’s voice call to her gently.

            “Iyara.” She looked over to the bed and saw that Korrie was awake and had was leaning back against the pillows piled up in front of the massive carved headboard.

            “Korrie!” she exclaimed with relief and crossed the room quickly to his side. She examined his face and saw that the lines of pain had vanished. “Is it over?” she asked.

            Korrie smiled at his sister, his golden eyes dark in the dim light. “Yes it is.” Iyara breathed a sigh of relief. Korrie ran his hands through his tousled hair and stretched. Iyara noticed, not for the first time, how much her twin had changed over the last year. No simpering weakling of a mage was her brother, he had inherited their father’s physique and had spent a fair amount of time training his body as well as his gifted mind. When manhood had finally come upon him a year ago, it came on with frenzy. The seamstresses and tailors of the academy were making him new clothes almost constantly.

            “Can I get you something? Some water perhaps? Something to eat?” she asked.

            “Yes, both please, but first a bath. I feel as if I’ve been abed for days.” He said the last with humour. The edges of Iyara’s full lips pulled down in a slight frown.

            “But you have been abed for days, brother. Three days.” Korrie looked up at her in shock and saw the worry in her eyes and the downward turn of her brows. Never had he been down for so long with an attack.

            “Three days?” he whispered back the question. Iyara nodded.

            “We’ve been terribly worried. Mother and father will be relieved to hear you have regained your health.”

            Iyara turned to one of the two doors in the room. The door led to Korrie’s private bath. She reached over an intricately hammered copper tub and grasped a lever that was carved in the shape of a dolphin. She pulled the lever and a gush of water flowed from a stone spout in the wall. The tub began to fill with water. The tub was supported by a massive iron stand that had been welded and shaped to resemble flames. She laid a hand upon a rosy stone set within the iron and whispered the word which would activate the enchantment laid upon the stand; “Infala.” Within seconds the iron became to hot to touch and the water filling the tub began to warm.

            Iyara returned to the bed chamber to find Korrie seated on the edge of the bed with be bed sheet pulled over his lap.

            “The bath is filling.” She told him. He scratched idly at the three day old stubble on his face.

            “Ah, may the goddess heap blessings upon you, sister.” He said with a wide grin. She smiled in return and headed for the second door which led out of the private rooms.

            “I’ll bring you food and drink in a short while. First, though, I’ll inform mother and father that you have awakened.

 

            Korrie threw aside the bed clothes and padded across the ancient worn carpet and entered the bathing room. Beneath his feet the stone floor was cool, but comfortable. One of the benefits of having his chambers below ground was the fairly stable temperature. The faintly steamy air was fragrant; he looked into the tub and saw that Iyara had sprinkled lavender and chamomile into the water. Herbalists highly touted the calming effects of the herbs. He touched the ruby on the tub’s ironwork and whispered the word that deactivated the enchantment and the iron stand cooled instantly. He moved the lever controlling the water and the flow dribbled to a stop. He stepped into the warm water and then slid down into the tub with a contended sigh.

            After several minutes he took up soap and washcloth and began scrubbing away sweat of his fevered sleep. He lathered his hair in soap then submerged himself in the water washing the soap away. Freshly scrubbed the young man stepped out of the tub and plucked up a large towel from the small bench beside the tub and dried himself. Wrapping a dry towel around his waist he stepped to a large polished silver mirror as he contemplated shaving. He wiped the mist from the mirror and regarded his reflection in the plate. He, like his sister, found the rapid changes in his appearance almost shocking. His features had lost the round softness of youth and had sharpened and strengthened. His hair, which had been pale blond, had darkened some. His shoulders had broadened and his muscles had become more defined. He stared into the dark eyes of his misty reflection and took a step back when they transformed. In the mirror he saw a different Korrie. The Korrie in the mirror had even sharper features, he was slightly older. The eyes were dark but seemed to burn with a golden fire in their depths. The expression was one of hate and wickedness and his mind perceived fragments of haunting, dreadful, fever dreams.

            He turned away from the mirror and staggered into the bed chamber and dropped himself on the edge of the bed. Long he spent there staring at the floor as shadowy visions, glimpses of forgotten dreams played across his mind’s eye.

 

            Korrie was brought back to the world around him when the door to his chamber opened and Iyara entered carrying a tray. A gown of mossy green velvet she wore that hugged her figure in flattering ways and briefly Korrie considered how much his sister had changed as well. She smiled as she entered but when she saw the haunted look in the eyes that rose to meet her own, the smile fled. She hurried to his side.

            “Korrie? What is wrong?” He did not answer but shivered involuntarily as chilblains rose upon his flesh. He turned from his sister and picked up a small worn pouch from the bedside table. He pulled out a small lump of yellow sulfur. He held the sulfur in one hand, gestured with the other and spoke the words of a simple spell.

            “Inflargo meit.” The sulfur lump vanished in a smoky puff and the logs stacked in the fireplace flared to life as did every candle in the room.

            As Iyara watched him, lines of concern impressed upon her high brow, he took up the water glass from the tray she still held and drained it. In the full light of candle and fire, Iyara saw the detail of the tapestry hanging on the wall behind the bed. It depicted the destruction of the kingdom of Ebornia by its own king using an uncontrolled magic relic. Suddenly Iyara hated the tapestry for it seemed to cast a dire pall upon the room and its occupants. She set the tray on the floor beside the bed and then sat down on the bed next to her brother. She took up his left hand and held it gently but firmly. He felt the steady touch of his sister and it seemed to relax him.

            “Tell me.” She said, “What is that troubles you so?” Iyara looked at him. Finally Korrie took a deep breath and turned his head to face her; his eyes locking with hers for an instant.

“Dreams.” Korrie finally answered. “I’ve been having terrible dreams and though I remember but fragments, I can feel fully they terror they engender.” If Korrie felt the sudden tightening of his sister’s grasp on his head he made no indication of it. Iyara, too, had been troubled by frightful dreams of late, but she said nought to her brother. She said nothing at all, waiting for him to continue.

He shook his head in silent frustration as he tried to recall the images that had so terrified him while at the same time wanting to forget.

“There was a great fire, but it cast no light. It was dim like a starry but moonless night.” He glanced at her to see if she understood. When she inclined her head he continued.

“Shadows flowed and undulated like they were living things.” His brow furrowed as he tried to see with his waking eyes what he had seen with his dreaming eyes. “The shadows moved.” He repeated. “In and around people they moved; people of all kinds, men, women, children, elves, dwarfs, little Halflings.” His eyes looked straight ahead but he did not see the room around.

“The shadows wrapped about limbs and throats. The people were screaming but I heard them not. Their faces were full of fear and woe. They then turned, as if one. I, too, turned to see what they looked at. I saw…” he paused and a shudder ran through him. Iyara placed he other hand atop his for support.

“I saw a man bewreathed in shadows. He wore them like a cloak. The shadows flowed around him gently as if caressing him. He looked upon the suffering around and smiled a contended, satisfied smile that was vile to look upon. Then the man looked at me, his face was in shadow save for the hideous grin. He held out one hand toward me and shadows flowed forth from him and wrapped around me; like bands of steel they were and they drew me toward him. I could not resist.” He paused again and took a deep steadying breath.

“As the shadows dragged me to him, I saw his face in full. Eyes of black shadow pulsing with a golden fire. The angles of his face were made sharp and fierce by the shadows that danced along them. I knew the face, I knew it well.” He turned to look in his sister’s eyes and she, in turn, saw the tears glinting in his eyes. “It was my face, ‘Yara, it was me.” She saw a single tear roll down his check before he laid his head upon her shoulder. She wrapped him in her embrace and long they remained thus as his shoulders wracked in silent sobs and his hot tears burned her shoulder.

 

Eventually the tears and the sobs subsided. Korrie freed himself from Iyara’s embrace. He sat up straight. “I feel a fool.” He said at last with a small smile trying to win its way free while wiping away the remainder of the tears on his cheeks. Already the images of the dreams and the horror they invoked were fading. “’Twas nothing more than a nightmare.” He said. “And, look, I’ve ruined your gown.”

“Fah!” she answered tousling his unruly hair with a hand. She then brushed the same hand over her shoulder, “Gli ata” she whispered in the Mage tongue and the stains vanished. She smiled at him, her golden amber eyes twinkling. “No harm done.” Then a knock sounded at the door.

“Come forth.” Korrie responded without thought. The door opened and two women stepped in. The first was an elder woman with silver haired tied tight atop her head. She strode purposefully with an air of authority. White robes hung about her ample frame and suspended from a silver chain around her neck was a silver medallion bearing the holy symbol of Ilmatar. In her left hand she carried a well-worn leather satchel. At her left hip was a small crescent shaped knife that marked as a Sister of the Wellspring.

“Well young Imiriss, I understand you are up and about again.” She stated with satisfaction mingled with no small amount of relief.

Behind the eld priestess a much younger priestess followed. She was only a year older than Korrie and Iyara. A haphazard mop of reddish-blond curls were somewhat tamed by a scarf that crossed her forehead and was tied at the back. She too wore the vestments of the Order of the Wellspring. In she came bouncing with a great smile until she caught sight of the pair seated on the bed �" Korrie still in nought but a towel. She squealed and turned her back to the room. “Oh my.” She managed to utter.

“Catala!” The elder priestess snapped at the younger. “Be sensible you silly girl.”

“But he is unclothed, Denar” Catala protested. Denar grasped Catala’s left shoulder and spun her round. “In the goddesses name, child, you are training to be a healer. Too, you three grew up together and swam as children.” Catala kept her eyes diverted but all could see the flush upon her cheeks. “With respect, we are children no more.” She muttered. Denar rolled her eyes and approached the bed waving a hand for Iyara to get up.

“Let me have a look then.” She told Korrie. Iyara went to stand beside Catala near the door as Denar began her examination. The healer produced a pair of wire pince-nez from her satchel and perched them precariously on her nose. She placed a hand against Korrie’s forehead and after a moment harrumphed and nodded. She titled his head back and grasped her holy symbol and held it over her head. “Light.” She said brusquely and the silver symbol began to glow with a brilliant white light. Korrie flinched at the light but did not pull away. Denar peered into both eyes. “Um-hm.” She nodded again. She righted Korrie’s head and then took a step back. “Relax.” She commanded him. She closed her eyes and while grasping the holy symbol firmly muttered a prayer the others could not hear.

When Denar opened her eyes she stared intently at Korrie. Throughout his body Denar saw lines of pulsing light, some blue some red. The lines pulsed with a steady even intensity. She focused on his chest where all the lines led to and away from. There a steady purple light beat evenly.

It was now Korrie’s turn to flush as the eld priestess’ eyes roamed his body. Denar saw the red lines increase in intensity as the blood rushed to Korrie’s skin in a blush. “Stop that.” She demanded.

“Sorry” Korrie demurred. The priestess closed her eyes and shook her head a moment to dispel the sight. When she opened them she found all three grinning foolishly. “Young people. I’ll never understand.” She commented. Then she turned again to Korrie. “Well it does seem this latest episode has passed, but its severity does trouble me somewhat. I advise you to rest well over the next few days and undertake no stressful task. I’ll visit again by week’s end.” With that, Denar turned and marched from the room. Korrie, Iyara and Catala all snickered.

“Catala come along!” Denar’s voice lashed through the door. “We’ve others yet to visit today.”

“Just coming!” Catala called back and then waved to the twins. “I’ll come back and visit later if I can. I’m glad you’re feeling well again, Korrie.” She said casting her eyes to the floor and turning to leave just as another flush of color flooded her cheeks. They both bid their young friend the priestess farewell.

 

Iyara turned to Korrie with a smile that was both statement and question.

“I’ll be fine.” Korrie answered the unspoken question. Iyara nodded.

“Get dressed then and come upstairs. Father and mother must be anxiously awaiting.” She told him and turning to leave she cast one last glance at her betroubled brother before closing the door.

Reviews

[AJJordan]

I'd just like to affirm that this is just my own subjective opinion based on the feelings I got while reading this. And I expect the same brutally honest opinion if you ever decide to return the favour:)

Okay, so you are a great writer, no doubt. You have the Gift. You create incredibly detailed scenes that draw the reader in. I was right there in the bedroom and the bathroom. I could clearly picture everything, but...

...but therein lies the problem. It was almost too detailed. Rather, you went into too much detail. I became overwhelmed with every action the characters took in a scene where not many things actually occurred. I know what that's like, because I've been told I have the same problem myself, and have been trying to work on it. Detail is good, but too much detail - especially about things that don't really require that much detail - and you are left feeling like you want to scan ahead until you see something interesting happening. Take the bath scene. He was just having a bath. Unless something interesting is happening while he is filling up the bath and then having the bath...then all he is doing is having a bath! You could literally write "He had a bath" and the reader will know exactly what you are talking about. Obviously they heat the water with magic, which can be thrown in, and after he gets out he has the vision, which IS interesting, but all the detail leading up to that seems incredibly superfluous. Detailed writing can be a two-edged sword...or a case of killing me softly with too many words. I felt like you were explaining every single step the young half-breed elf took, verbatim. Step by step.
Even Korrie's recount of the vision he had seemed incredibly detailed. Nothing wrong with that, I guess...except this was a conversation. He was saying this out loud. Unless Korrie is like some old Shakespearean actor, is this really the way he talks? He seems to talk like...like a flowery writer writes.

There are a few little typos which I'm sure you'll pick up on when you read through but, apart from the overload of narrative detail, this is still some great writing:)