A Single Candle Page 14

  “You’re one to talk, General Mop-top!” Ban retorted.

  Neither of the adults said anything for a moment, then Yarren burst out laughing, followed in short order by the general himself.

  “If nothing else, the boy has provided us with some much-needed comic relief!” Yarren declared, as they headed back to the camp to gather and assemble Ban’s disguise.

  Cerah let Tressida sleep for four hours then woke her. It was not wise to rest in one place for too long in the bitter cold of the Frozen South, even if one was a great queen dragon. “Tress my love, it’s time to wake up now.”

  “Just five more minutes,” said the dragon. It was her standard answer whenever Cerah roused her.

  “Not another instant, lazy dragon,” she joked, knowing as she said it that Tressida was anything but lazy when called upon. She certainly wasn’t lazy when she almost flew herself to death to get to me, she thought.

  “No, I certainly wasn’t, was I,” Tressida replied.

  “You certainly weren’t, dear heart. But we need to get up and get moving. You’re not ready to fly yet, but you’re well enough to do some walking.”

  “Where would you like to walk? I hear the ice is lovely this time of year. Or perhaps you’d prefer to visit the ice? Or some ice, maybe?”

  “Alright, silly girl. I know there’s not much in the way of scenery here, but we need to move all the same. The cold does bad things to idle bodies.”

  “Very well!” Tressida replied, letting out a loud sigh. “We can walk until nightfall, then you’re climbing on my back and we’re getting off this frozen dump.”

  Cerah did the calculations in her mind. Healing magic has an immediate effect. The focus of the spell, especially when in as poor shape as the dragon had been when she found Cerah, will feel pain begin to leave the body almost instantly, and other internal processes will likewise be greatly improved. But the spells Cerah cast also had a lingering, cumulative dimension. By not stressing one’s body, the individual receiving the magic will continue to convalesce gradually until they are fully restored. Though Cerah could not visually detect it, she knew nightfall was three hours away. Tressida had told her as much. A slow-paced walk of that duration, especially following four hours of sound sleep, should be enough for Tressida to safely fly again.

  “It’s a deal,” she said at last. “We walk until night, the arrival of which you must tell me, as your dragon-sense is much better at keeping track of the passing of time than I am able. Not to mention I have been in the perpetual gloom of this place for three and a half days.”

  “I will tell you when it’s time. And I will be honest with you about my health. It will do neither of us any good should I die in midair high above the Karrak.”

  As they began hiking, Cerah kept her hand on Tressida’s flank, so close did she walk to her. “Do, please,” she said. “I am very familiar with the effect and progress of my healing magic on humans. Less so on dragons. Your insides are very different than ours.”

  “Our outsides too,” Tressida said. “We are, in general, much more attractive. Although you, my dear, are the exception to that rule!”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” laughed Cerah.

  “And Slurr!” she continued, ignoring Cerah’s comment. “Well he is so handsome that any dragon near him looks simply plain!”

  “Even Szalmi?” Cerah teased, knowing Tressida had a special place in her heart for Kern’s playful red match-mate.

  “Szalmi is a comely enough fellow,” she answered. “But he is so silly!”

  Cerah laughed. “He always has been. Even when I knew him only as a trilizard, when Kern was still living as a healer on Illyria and I knew nothing of magic or Melsa, or fighting for the future of the planet, Szalmi’s blue tongue licked my face more times than I can count, and made me laugh as I’d watch him prance and roll about, all for the sheer joy of doing it.”

  “Yes, that is why I love him as well,” Tressida said, before realizing the admission she’d made.

  “Oh! You looooovvve him!” said Cerah, drawing out the word and sounding far more like the teenaged girl than the Chosen One of Ma’uzzi.

  Tressida recovered quickly. “I love all dragons. I am their queen. Of course I love him…THEM!”

  “You said it agaaaainnnn!”

  “Stop teasing, Cerah of Quadar, or I shall take away the cold by bathing you in dragon-fire!”

  Cerah held her hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot, Queen Tressida! Zayan’s armor is mighty, but I have not tested it against your flames!”

  The two walked for many miles, laughing and simply enjoying that the other was near once more. The separation had been difficult on both dragon and human-mage, and there was considerable healing magic in their just being together.

  After several hours Tressida said, “Night has fallen. I feel strong. Let me take you to your husband.”

  As Tressida lowered herself Cerah climbed upon her back. “Yes, love. Fly me away. But not to Slurr. Not yet. We have to make another stop first.”

  “Another stop? Where?” the golden dragon asked, shocked that Cerah would want to be taken anywhere other than to her husband’s side.

  “We have to fly to Melsa. I need to visit the Hall of Whispers. There are questions for which I require answers.”

  “Of course I will take you anywhere you ask,” Tressida said. “And if you say you must go to Onesperus, I will not question you. You’re not the inexperienced girl who Went Within too soon, seeking Surok. You’re the Chosen One and I trust your judgement completely.”

  Even as Tressida was speaking she took to the sky. Cerah immediately felt a rush of euphoria. In many ways, she felt most at home when on Tress’s broad, golden back, soaring above the landscape, seeing for miles, smelling the water in the air. They were still several days walk from the coastline, but Cerah knew that before the sun rose in the morning they would be well out to sea. Tressida would cover the distance in no time. Even flying at a pace that did not put her body in peril, Tress was a many times faster flyer than all other dragons. Indeed, when she was at the head of a flight of dragons, she had to hold herself back, keeping their limitations in mind. Unhindered by them she could easily cover the four days walk in six to eight hours of flying.

  “It feels good to have the wind in your hair again, doesn’t it?” the dragon asked her match-mate.

  “It always feels glorious to ride you, to feel the rushing air…even when it is freezing!”

  “Do not worry, love. When the sun rises tomorrow, you will see it. We will be from beneath the dismal canopy of this place.”

  “Yes, and you can feed,” said Cerah. “You need food as soon as we can find some.” Then she remembered something. “Hey! You said you would bring me a fish!”

  “I brought it,” the queen said, with a hint of guilt in her mental voice. “But I ate it while I was waiting for you on that hill.”

  Cerah laughed. “Good! Your body needs nourishment much more than mine at the moment.” Then, just to be a tease she said, “Though it would have tasted wonderful!”

  “Hush! I feel badly enough about it already. The first fish I spy will be yours. I’ll even cook it for you.”

  “In flight roast fish! I didn’t realize this was a luxury voyage!”

  “Cerah, when you are on the back of the queen, it is always a flight of great extravagance!” the dragon responded, her laughter ringing in Cerah’s mind.

  She stroked the dragon’s neck as the craggy ice of the Frozen South raced by below them. Just to be certain, she cast another round of revitalizing magic.

  “Ah, that feels good. I guess one can never get too much of the Chosen One’s curative attention,” Tressida said, cooing warmly at Cerah’s touch.

  Before Cerah realized it, they had flown far enough that Mount Opatta was no longer visible behind her. They would reach the coastline right on the schedule Tressida had established. As they flew and Cerah enjoyed the comfort of being with Tress once more, she fel
t her eyelids getting heavy. She realized that she hadn’t slept since the second day on the mountain, and the deprivation was catching up with her. Tressida sensed it immediately.

  “Close your eyes, my beautiful Cerah. You are truly tired now, unlike when you lied to make me rest! I will keep you safe while you sleep.”

  Not surprised that her fib had been found out, Cerah laughed, “Alright, Tress. It won’t be the first time you’ve soared on while I’ve napped on your back.” A moment later she closed her eyes and enjoyed several hours of uninterrupted, dreamless slumber.

  Yarren knew exactly where the Stygian encampment was located, and he flew Ban to a spot a few miles to the southeast. There they would separate as Ban snuck into the camp and Yarren and Valosa maintained their position so that they could get the boy back to safety in short order once he gathered any intelligence.

  “You didn’t have to volunteer to take me,” Ban said as they flew. “I’m pretty good at hiking cross-country.”

  “I’m sure you are. But so is the enemy. Getting into the camp is not the part that concerns me. It’s getting you out that could be tricky.”

  “Until the past year I was vague on the whole issue of wizards, what with you being imaginary and all. But you seem like a pretty decent sort. You know, for make-believe people.”

  Yarren laughed. “Yes, after the Stygian war we kept pretty much to ourselves for a long time. Even though we fought alongside the humans of Illyria to defeat the Stygians, after the war ended they began to push us away. Some wizards believe that they associated us too closely with the memory of the war, and of the loss of so many of their loved ones. Whatever the reason we thought it best to remain on Melsa, to train and prepare for the next time we were needed.”

  Ban thought about this for a moment. “How did you know you’d be needed at all? I mean, the world’s pretty bolloxed up right now, but it’s been mostly mellow for a long time, right? Why keep training for something no one saw coming?”

  “Wizards serve.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Yarren had an answer ready, but reconsidered. He realized that he was talking to a very young boy who had spent his short life scraping for everything. The lofty ideals of the wizard race would probably sound a little odd, and perhaps more than a little presumptuous, to him. Finally, he decided to just explain as well as he could. “Wizards were created by Ma’uzzi to serve him and to serve the people of Quadar. We are here to do whatever we can to make our planet a safe, peaceful place to live.”

  “Well it’s not really what I’d call safe or peaceful right now,” Ban said.

  “I agree. The appearance of Surok is a crisis unlike any we have ever faced. That is why it is so vital that the Chosen One has been found as well.”

  “Cerah. Slurr’s wife,” Ban said, making sure he was following.

  “Exactly. Ma’uzzi has known she would arrive since before the creation of Quadar.”

  “Ma’uzzi. The Creator. God.”

  “The same,” said Yarren.

  “Can I be honest with you?” Ban asked.

  “Of course, little friend.”

  “I believe in wizards, because I’ve seen them. And I am almost convinced Surok is real, because Slurr says he is, and Slurr’s a pretty stand-up fellow. Besides, someone must be responsible for all the evil that’s arisen in the world. But believing in an all-powerful daddy in the sky stretches the limits of what I can do. I mean, how can you live your life serving someone you can’t really prove exists?”

  “To answer that question could take me years,” Yarren said. “But I’ll try to explain. First, wizards know that the source of our magic is wholly and solely Ma’uzzi. We feel a very direct connection to Him when we use our craft, especially after many years of study, when we begin to learn more advanced and powerful magic. It is much more than ‘believing.’ It’s actual ‘knowing.’ But there’s more than that.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, you said you’ve come to believe in Surok because you can see his evil mark upon the planet. Can you not see Ma’uzzi’s hand as well?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Ban, you see Surok’s maleficent work in the form of vanishing cities, slaughtered populations, repugnant monsters and magical black walls. However that, horrible as it is, represents but a fraction of what you can see all around you. Even this minute. We are flying above tall trees, which reach ever toward the heavens, trees that began as tiny seeds and now house hundreds of birds and small animals. To get here you flew over a vast ocean, beautiful and awesome in itself, but all the more so because it is teeming with life. Fish, great and small, friendly portibals that dance alongside ships, chirping at the people on board, even the fearsome thorrian. Where do you think all of this life came from?”

  “Well, Yarren, I never had the chance to go to school, but I’ve been fortunate enough to know a handful of learned people, and one of them told me that all life came from tiny organisms that lived in the sea and eventually developed into something that could crawl onto dry land.”

  “And whence came the organisms? And the sea? And the dry land?”

  “The land formed from space dust that was left over when Vellus came to life. The water was formed by natural processes in the early atmosphere.”

  “Whence the dust?”

  “Alright. I see your point. Even the dust had to come from somewhere. But I do not see the hand of a creator in it. Everything came to be what it is now through a long, gradual process, all of it explainable by science.”

  “But don’t you see? It was Ma’uzzi who invented science. It was He who laid the foundations of the universe, then watched as it took its eventual form, just as He pictured it in His mind, before there was before. What would be the alternative?”

  “Random chance, I suppose,” said Ban, his long-held beliefs faltering slightly.

  Yarren laughed. “When I look at Ban Alawar, I do not see random chance. I see a remarkable, resourceful, resilient young man, wonderfully and fearfully made, whose name is known and every messy hair is numbered by a loving Creator. Your father’s seed and your mother’s egg may have been needed to bring you into this world, but that mechanism was designed, not happened upon. Do you see?”

  “I see that you believe this with all your heart,” Ban conceded. “And I see the beauty of it. I just don’t know if I’m ready to believe in a benevolent God who has caused all this to be, and who loves everyone and everything. I mean, in my life I have not seen much benevolence at all. And why then Surok? What place is there for evil in your beliefs?”

  “I did not anticipate debating cosmology with a twelve-year-old when I volunteered for this mission,” Yarren said, laughing again. “Surok is not Ma’uzzi’s creation. He was brought forth from the mists of the Under Plane by Pilka.”

  “Pilka, yes. Ma’uzzi’s daughter and sister. I’ve heard her spoken of once or twice. She is a product of Ma’uzzi’s creation, yes?”

  “She is,” Yarren answered.

  “And so, a being created by your altruistic God is the mother of all evil.”

  “She is,” Yarren said again.

  “How? Why?” Ban asked, truly perplexed.

  “Ma’uzzi has given all He has created a free will, so that every creation can decide which path, the light or the dark, they will take in their life. That free will extended to Pilka as well. Ma’uzzi created her to dwell with Him and to rejoice in the beauty of His creation, but she chose to depart from His light into the darkness.”

  “And He let her?”

  “Alas, He knew she would do so before there was before.”

  “Wait. So, you’re telling me that even before he began the process of creation, the dust of the universe, spinning into stars and planets and ultimately into you and me... He knew that Pilka would turn against Him and bring into a being a creature who lives solely to destroy that which Ma’uzzi has created?”

  “He did,” said Yarren.

  “That just do
esn’t make any damn sense,” Ban spat emphatically.

  “Well, I have to admit I’m with you on that. It has never really made any sense to me either. Why create Pilka if you knew she would rebel? I have no answer for that question. But it does not fall to me to explain the mind of Ma’uzzi, only to serve Him.”

  “And you’re okay with serving a God who might be fundamentally insane? Because I can think of no other explanation for it.”

  “I’m very okay with it. Because I know that my wisdom is little more than foolishness, and the wisdom of Ma’uzzi does not depend upon my understanding of it. And remember, just as He knew that evil would ultimately come, he put into place the mechanism that caused the Chosen One to also come, at precisely the right time and in precisely the right measure. Cerah was born, created if you will, to destroy the evil.”

  “Hmm. Yes. I must confess I’m reserving judgment upon the whole Chosen One phenomenon as well. I have never met her, but she doesn’t seem to have done much evil crushing yet.”

  “In that regard I can offer some assurance. I have met her, and she is unlike anyone else on the planet, at least in my experience. And she is yet to eradicate the source of Quadar’s evil, but she has purged more than a little of the outlying symptoms of that evil. You will see. I cannot tell you when you will be face to face with Ma’uzzi, but I expect you’ll meet Cerah soon enough, and in her see His heart. But quiet, now. We are nearing the place where we will land.”

  Yarren pointed Valosa to a small clearing in the forest. It was just large enough for him to softly touch down, but provided enough cover for him and Yarren to remain undetected by any passing Stygians, especially when aided by simple concealment spells which would be more than equal to the feeble observational skills of the subjugated humans. As he and Ban climbed down from Val’s back, Yarren pointed to the northwest. “The encampment should be no more than two miles in that direction, perhaps a little less. By now the reinforcements will have arrived and the camp will be large and, if I know the Stygians, more than a little chaotic. As I said, slipping in among them shouldn’t prove too difficult, especially for a young man with your particular… skill set. Remember, always strive to be inconspicuous. If you see that the other children are mixed in among the adults, all the better. But if they are segregated you must stay with them and try your best to figure out what the adults are planning. Hopefully, since they have so carelessly thrown their children into battle, the Stygians will not be concerned with keeping them separate in camp. More than likely they will be called upon to do the menial, undesirable tasks that the adults look to avoid. You may have to blend in with regard to that as well. If you’re told to do something, do it. Don’t draw attention. As soon as you learn anything that we can use against the Stygians or Surok’s forces in general, find a way to get out of there and hurry back to me. I’ll get you to Slurr as fast as Val can fly.”