The Flame Priest (The Silk & Steel Saga) (7 page)

All doors were forbidden to her, both the golden-yellow and the mysterious midnight-blue. Kath’s doeskin boots whispered down the hallway, the maze of the monastery growing familiar. The warmth of the floor increased, a telltale sign that she neared her destination. Descending the steps, she found the golden door with the glass pane shaped like a diamond...but the door was closed. She stared hard at the challenge. So easy to turn the knob and enter, but somehow they’d know. The monks had their own way of training. Magic could be even more exhausting than sword practice, yet she dared not miss a lesson. She’d need every weapon for the fight ahead.

Resigned to the task, she placed her left hand on the stone wall next to the door. Wood was impenetrable to her magic but not stone. Shivering with apprehension, she gripped her small mage-stone gargoyle. Kath leaned against the wall, a solid barrier, yet the monks had taught her another way. She stared at the wall, summoning the courage to try. In her worst nightmares she became trapped in stone, her mouth forever frozen in an endless scream. Banishing her doubts, she closed her eyes and concentrated, reaching for the magic within.

A deep vein of power throbbed at the heart of her gargoyle. Kath felt the pull of magic, the seductive call of stone to stone. Leaning forward, she pressed against the wall, pushing into it, pushing through it, needing to get to the other side. Mage-stone surrounded her with a hard embrace. Solid, sedentary, stubborn…streaks of granite and veins of quartz, the stone called to her, trying to hold her in place, offering her permanence, a whispered dream of eternity. The stone sang its siren’s song, enduring, constant, forever. So hard to be herself, hard to remember…hard to move yet she needed to push through, needed to breath. Refusing to be a prisoner, she pressed forward.
Crack!

Like a flash of lightning, the world returned in a rush. Kath staggered into air. She gasped, remembering to breath, hungry to fill her lungs. She checked herself, two arms, two legs, flesh not stone, her heart thundering in living proof. Damp with sweat, she sighed, her muscles quivering with strain, but she was whole and on the other side. Kath sagged against the wall, breathing hard, wondering if it would ever get easier.

The moist warmth of the garden embraced her, the rich fragrance of living green. She breathed deep, welcoming the scent of life, relishing the lushness of the garden. Even for the monastery, the
Garden
of
Contemplation
was a marvel. Heated by piped water from underground thermal springs and flooded with sunshine through a vaulted ceiling of glass panes, the garden was both a refuge of green and a sanctuary of art. Statues peered out from among the fronds, a story or a lesson behind every one. Kath followed the stone path along the reflecting pool. Her fingertips brushed the verdant green as she gazed at the secluded art.

Reaching the far end of the narrow pool, she took a seat on the stone bench. The statue of the three monk-keys peered out from the fronds. She studied the carving, remembering her first meeting with the master, only a moon turn ago. So much had changed, the weight of destiny felt heavy on her shoulders.

“Power begets power.”

Kath jumped, her hand reaching for her sword…but it was only Master Rizel. Her mentor had a knack for suddenly appearing. She meant to catch him but never did. She wondered if it was magic but knew better than to ask.

Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes, as if he knew her question and dared her to ask. But Kath knew from experience her questions would only lead to a maze of riddles, so she kept quiet, waiting for the lesson to began.

He took a seat on the bench, sharing her view of the monk-keys. He gave her a sideways glance, his sun-kissed face lined with deep laugh line, his jewel-blue eyes hiding as much as they revealed. “Power begets power…the saying is true for magic as well as for politics.”

Kath sighed; the day’s lesson always began with a riddle. Easing back on the bench, she considered the master’s words. Daring a sideways glance, she searched his face for clues, but he gave nothing away. The masters of the Kiralynn Order were sparing with their explanations, forcing their apprentices to puzzle out the full truth from mere kernels of wisdom. Master Rizel had explained it as a type of sword play of the mind, but sometimes Kath found it slow and frustrating…especially since the sands of time were slipping away.

The master raised an eyebrow, drawing her back to the lesson at hand.

Tumbling his words within her mind, Kath thought out loud, “Power begets power…magic begets more magic. So you’re saying that because I have the ability to unleash the power of my gargoyle, I may be able to do other types of magic?”

“Just so. Magic is an innate gift, born to only a few mortals. For each person, the gift takes different forms but most magics can only be unlocked with the enhancing powers of a focus.”

Kath smiled with victory…but her triumph was short lived.

“And?” The word held a challenge.

She shook her head in frustration. One layer of understanding was never enough.
 
The monks offered riddles wrapped in endless layers of logic. It was the student’s task to peel back the layers, exposing the wisdom hidden within. She fondled her gargoyle and searched her mind for the next step in the lesson. “Power…magic…focuses. So, if I find another focus, besides my gargoyle, I might be able to use it?”

“It’s possible, yes, but first you will have to establish a bond, like the one you have with your gargoyle. Without that affinity, you will never be able to unlock the magic within.”

More magic?
The possibility stunned Kath.
How much magic was in the world?
Nightmares of the magic-sniffing goblin-man invaded her mind.
Kidnapped by the captain…all because of my gargoyle.
Connecting the ideas, Kath’s eyes widened. “That’s why the Mordant is so powerful, isn’t it? He’s spent the ages collecting focuses?”

“Yes, but magical focuses are the least of his powers. The Mordant has the divine favor of the Dark God. It is rumored that the Dark Lord endows his dedicates with powers and special favors. Favors that do not require the use of a focus.”

Kath made the hand sign against evil, her voice a hesitant whisper. “What powers does he have?”

“Rumors shrouded in history…none have ever lived to tell the truth of the tales.”

An icy touch feathered down Kath’s back.

“Even more dangerous than his magics, you must never forget what you are dealing with. As the oldest Harlequin, the Mordant has served the Dark Lord for more than a thousand years.” His voice became heavy with thought. “It is hard for any of us to imagine a thousand years of memories, a thousand years of evil.”

Hearing the unexpected catch in the master’s voice, Kath asked, “Do you wish for it? Do you yearn for a thousand years of life?”

Rocking back on the bench the master gave her a shrewd look offset by a light laugh. “Who is the master and who is the apprentice?” Shaking his head, Master Rizel said, “Such a span of years is not natural. I would never trade my soul for more life. But, to have the wisdom of thousands years, that
is
tempting…to any monk of the Order.” His voice sank to a whisper. “For you see, the Kiralynn Order seeks that kind of wisdom, but we do it within the Light, always within the Light. We collect, preserve, and study the histories and learnings of those who have gone before us. By standing on the shoulders of others, we dare to reach for a wisdom that is far beyond our years.”

The clouds shifted in the afternoon sky, flooding the garden with sunlight like a blessing from the gods. Smiling into the warmth, Master Rizel said, “But I am forgetting myself. There is a practical aspect to today’s lesson. The Grand Master has given permission for you, and each of your companions, to be tested, though we doubt the others will succeed.”

Curious, Kath watched as the master removed a folded square of fur and a cloth bag from his pocket. Spreading the fur on the stone bench between them, he up-ended the bag, spilling an assortment of odd and ends across the fur.

It looked like a thief’s harvest, but Kath knew otherwise. “These are focuses, aren’t they?”

“Some are and some aren’t. It is all part of the test…a test that is normally reserved for sworn members of the Order…but these are dire times.” The master distributed the items, creating a space between each one. “None from among the Order has been able to bond with any of these focuses, and so we offer you the chance to extend your abilities.” He waved toward the items. “We offer you our treasures. Take your time and examine each of the items. Feel them with your mind, your heart, and your magic. See if any of them speak to you.”

Kath studied the collection of odds and ends, a strange mixture of the unusual and the ordinary. Some of the items were miniature works of art, carved by master craftsmen, while others were costly, encrusted with jewels and gold, but most could have come from a peasant’s hut. Skeleton keys, smooth pebbles, odd colored stones, rings, bracelets, amulets, a broken bit of antler, loose gems, carved figurines, a seashell,
 
an ordinary spoon, all lay in a jumble on the fur, as if a thief had picked the pockets of kings and paupers alike. She studied the jumble, wondering what they did, wondering which were true and which false.

Of all the pieces, the most exquisite was a small dragon carved of turquoise. So detailed, the dragon looked as if it could take wing. Gesturing toward the turquoise carving, Kath said, “May I?”

“Yes, of course.”

She picked up the dragon and held it cradled in her palm. The carving was magnificent, as if the tiny dragon could breathe fire and take wing. She marveled at the craftsmanship, but it did not spark anything within her. Disappointed, she returned the tiny dragon to the fur and examined the others. She considered each one, but her hands always found their way back to a small pyramid carved of golden amber. The amber felt warm to the touch and there was something fascinating about the way the translucent gemstone caught and held the light.

Beside her the master said, “You are drawn to the pyramid?”

“Other items are more beautiful…but there is something about the warmth of amber and the perfect shape of the pyramid.”

With a grace more common to a warrior than a man of letters, the master rose from the bench. “Then we shall see if the pyramid is truly meant for you.” From the pocket of his robe, he produced a long golden sash. “First, you must be blindfolded.”

“But why?”

“There is no other way.”

Kath nodded and held still as the master secured the golden silk.

“Now give the pyramid back to me.”

Kath was surprised to find that she still clutched the pyramid. Reluctant to relinquish it, she forced her fingers to uncurl. The master took the pyramid. Her hand felt empty. She sat in darkness, her senses telling her that he rearranged the items displayed on the fur.

A hushed stillness settled over the garden.

“Stretch out your hand but do not touch any of the items.” The master’s voice held a note of command. “Use all of your senses to find the pyramid. Take your time, and when you are sure, reach down and snatch the pyramid from the bench. You have but one chance to find the focus. Touch anything else, and you fail. Move only when you are ready. Let the magic be your guide.”

Another test
, the monks were overly fond of them. Kath yearned for the pyramid but the task seemed impossible. Blindfolded, and granted only a single touch, there was no way she could find it. Shrouded in darkness, she scowled, befuddled by the test. The monks expected too much. If the pyramid could help defeat the Mordant then why not just give it to her?

The master’s whisper pierced the darkness. “You think too much. Stop relying on your eyes alone. Use your other senses. Listen to your inner voice. Still the clamor in your mind and find the magic within. If it is meant to be, the pyramid will call to the magic within you. Relax, for if you cannot find the pyramid then you will never be able to wield it.”

Kath struggled to still her mind and quell her doubts. Taking deep calming breaths, she stretched her senses. The garden’s lush green scent surrounded her, a heady perfume of life. The stone bench felt cool beneath her. The warmth of the sun caressed her face. She felt the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her left hand curled around her mage-stone gargoyle. Magic throbbed within her gargoyle but Kath pushed it away, seeking something else, something kindred but different. She stretched out her hand, yearning for the pyramid. A pinprick of magic tugged at her awareness. Kath focused on the pinprick, like a candle guttering in the dark. She willed the spark to grow, to blaze bright. Suddenly sure, she reached down and snatched the magic from the fur. Her fist tightened, sensing the amber pyramid within. A smile of triumph filled her face.

The master released the blindfold. Kath blinked at the light.

“I knew you would succeed.” His voice was warm with pride.

She gazed down at the small pyramid. “What does it do?”

“This focus is the Order’s gift to you, to help in the fight against the Mordant. Use it well.”

“But what does it do?”

Gathering up the baubles and returning them to the cloth pouch, the master said, “Some focuses have a history that is known to the Order, while others are a blank slate. This pyramid is one whose history is lost. But even if we knew what it did, there is no guarantee that it would perform the same feats for you. Magic is always a combination of the abilities of the person and the abilities of the focus. Every combination is different.”