War mage crystals of mem.., p.46
War Mage (Crystals of Memory Book 4), page 46
He stopped though, when he saw who was there and spoke in whatever the Ferlin language was called. It truly did sound similar to that of Dora. A thing that he’d heard in passing a few times.
After a moment the man put the blade away and smiled. He spoke then, not in the language of Istlan, but rather that of Yanse.
“You want to poke me with magic? I can allow that, though I don’t understand the reason for it. I don’t have that kind of thing in great measure. Which is why I teach sword and other types of fighting, instead. What do I need to do?” To his credit, the man didn’t ask if it was going to hurt, or even injure him.
He bowed toward the man, who didn’t do it back, and then waved toward Erold.
“My friend, Erold, will hit you with some very light spells. Ones just powerful enough for you to notice. You’re resistant to such things?” That was the point, but he didn’t know the man. Not asking could lead to errors.
“Yah. Not that it helps me much. Then what? I call out if I can feel it?”
“That works. Would you mind if I watch what happens, while I use wizardry on you to try and trace it? I won’t be reading your mind or anything, without asking first.”
The large fellow, who was tall and broad at the same time, didn’t seem to find that as being too fearsome at all.
The instant Erold started tapping at him with small pushes, Anders could understand what was happening. He grinned, after a bit.
“Very good. Now, try tightening up your middle, on this next bit?”
That did nothing, but over the course of hours, with much trial and error, mainly error, the man was able to do much more than just blunt magic a bit. He could, in fact, cause a small area around himself where magic wouldn’t work at all.
Chapter thirty-one
One thing that Anders learned about Farad Ibn Istel, the original one, was that the man, once an idea caught his attention, didn’t like to let go of it at all. It was, in fact, only begrudgingly that he allowed them to sleep that night, instead of going over how to improve the new tricks they’d discovered. When Vogal simply left for the day, seeking his evening meal, Farad gave them a wistful expression.
“Ah, yes, food! I suppose we should eat, and probably rest, before continuing?” He gave them a hopeful expression, as if expecting them both to leave then, possibly in annoyance, instead of seeking for the new idea that was before them.
Prince Erold grinned, his tired face still seeming cheery, if a bit puffy.
“Those both sound like good ideas. We have some food, taken from hunting and gathering on the trail, so we won’t try the goodwill of your people or yourself, Sir.”
The words were waved at, which meant little to Anders. It was a thing he did, but seeing it done by someone else suddenly made him realized how unhelpful it truly was. He understood the man was indicating what had been said, but not his opinion on the topic.
Not until he spoke.
“It’s no hardship at all. This city is aided by our friends the devic and never wants for anything, due to that. Rarely. A few of the young men have to struggle to find women, I hear. That’s always been an issue in life, however and the devic won’t really aid with that. They can, of course but it doesn’t go well, when they do.” The man was being playful, but allowed Anders to run and get the stored meat they had, which was frozen, and the greens and roots he’d collected from the trail, as well as some berries from earlier in the day.
Then the older version of Farad did something that seemed off, and prepared it all. He used honey, sugar, cream and fine flours of two types, to create a wonderful pastry that seemed to melt in the mouth, with a flaked, fried and highly spiced meat filling. It was a thing that Anders had never seen the likes of before, but which, when eaten, impressed even Prince Erold.
Anders, knowing what kind of cooking the man had learned in his first life, sighed.
“You know, I’ve had some lessons in cooking and couldn’t match what you did here. I’m not certain that the Master of King Mathias’s kitchen could have, to be truthful.”
The white-haired man smiled then, taking the words as the praise they were supposed to be.
“One of the positive things about living a very long time... You have a chance to learn a great many things. Now, Anders, Erold... You both can repeat what Vogal was doing already, correct?”
They hadn’t tried it, but Anders screwed up his face and started to nod.
“I don’t know to what level, but I felt what he was doing, creating a sense of magical flow, inside of himself, circulating, instead of moving outward? You caught that as well, Erold?”
“I did... I don’t know if that means I can do the same thing, at all. We can try it? I’m not tired enough for sleep yet. We need light in here, if we’re going to work into the night.” He called a simple golden glow into being, at the ceiling, high above their heads. There were windows, along one wall, the rest of dwelling being inside the stone of the mountain, carved out in some smooth and professional seeming fashion.
It wasn’t truly dark as of yet, but Farad smiled at the effort. That or the idea that the Prince of Istlan wanted to keep going.
Anders, for his part of things focused on capturing the feeling that would be needed. It didn’t come easily, and for the first two hours nothing much seemed to be happening. When he was about to give up and call it a night, tired of being pushed backwards by Erold, Farad tossed up his right hand.
“There! You did it. Try it again?”
Erold, clearly bored, hit Anders again, then, five times in a row. Every blow came with the sense of what he was doing being stronger than the last. Even as each hit with less force as far as what could be felt. It was enough that Anders pressed himself into gasping and a bit of burning pain inside the nerves that ran along his arms and legs. Still, trying to make something happen, Erold increased his own power, until Anders was shaking and writhing under the assault.
He wasn’t being impacted by the magic though, simply resisting it. Not perfectly, since it truly seemed to be a brutal thing, but well enough that he was able to extend the limits of the effect outward, until it wrapped over Erold, and the room was plunged into darkness.
Which lasted until the Prince stepped back, about five paces away. Then the light came back into being, hovering above them like a dim sun.
There was a bit of clapping from Farad, who was standing well back and watching.
“May I try it, do you think? I was able to follow that. It was instructive, I believe.”
Anders figured that the man would instantly be able to match, or even defeat what he’d done, being so old and skilled, but it took nearly as long for him to manage it and again as long for Erold to do the same. In the end, Anders laughed a bit.
“So, after half a night of practice, we’re as good as Vogal was in half the time. Still, learning isn’t about how long it takes to grasp the subject, it’s about what you have added in the end. This is a good start. I’m not certain how useful it will be, in battle, since a good shield will stop a sword or arrow, and this won’t, but...”
There was a surprised look from Farad, and a shake of the elder’s head.
“Don’t you see? If we can undo magic in an area, then even those of amazing powers will be vulnerable to us, inside that space. True, then we will have to use force of arms or words to affect things, but knowing that ahead of time might aid us greatly. With this one method, we can change the field of battle forever. Ganges and... You called the woman from the crystal... Rothina?” The man locked eyes with him then and held it.
“Yes. Rothina.”
“Neither of them will be prepared to act without their magical talents, I have to think. I have such training, but unless they found a need for physical prowess over the centuries, unknown to me, Ganges simply won’t have gone in that direction. He always relied on magic. Being weaker than he that way, refusing to harvest the lives of others, I was forced to rely on everything I could find. Strength of arms, skill and guile. Over time, I pressed myself to nearly match Ganges in personal magic. It was neither easy or pleasant, but I did it. It was never enough to truly face him, however.” There was a closed eyed grimace then.
After a long time, the man spoke, seeming grave.
“This isn’t enough, of course. We have to find the edges of this power, and to press it in a thousand ways, to make certain it is not easily going to be gotten around. It will take work and study. We leave for Istlan in some days?”
Anders noticed the use of the word we, but nodded.
“We do. I don’t mean to be upsetting or untrusting, since you are, in part, me, but would you be willing to allow me to read your mind, do you think? Before I take you to the land of my people, who might be endangered if I arrive with a threat. Another one. I know that’s insulting and...”
The man simply smiled, and opened his hands.
“Of course. We should have done that before. Please? I will do that with you as well, at the same time, if you allow?”
Anders focused, nodding slowly to indicate that was well with him, dropping into a trance, expecting to have to battle to make sense of what he was seeing. Instead, he merely stepped into the other man’s very life, starting at the point where the crystal was taken from his forehead. The last thing that Anders recalled from his first life.
Then, in what felt like fifteen hundred years, Anders lived everything that the other man had experienced. Much of it was dark, but there many good things as well. The love of women, his wives and on occasion concubines, was surprising. Anders had lived with him as he overcame his fear of women, however, and then over the centuries as he learned many things that Anders hadn’t even suspected would exist.
The man had mastered stone carving on a level that no one else ever had, for instance. His ability in magic however, wasn’t as good as what Anders had managed in the last year, on his own. Part of that was due to natural talent of the body he was in, of course.
Farad was incredible in battle, however. Few could match him with a blade or even a stick, that way. With nothing in his hands at all he’d been forced to fight armed men, more than once. Each time he was the victor.
Much of his life wasn’t, as it had sounded, spent in fighting Ganges at all. Most of it wasn’t. He simply lived and sought a better life for his people, attempting to find a way to improve the world, without leading directly more than was needed.
Anders was the King of Modra, the Sutha there, and then founded Istlan, as well as Yanse, later, and then Ferlith. There was also a time where the man had lived in other lands, for over a hundred years. Places so far away that Anders had to learn new languages to have a name for some of them.
That, placing all of what was happening into his mind was both simple and an exhausting task. He did it, as if it were an incredibly long book, that taught him almost everything. It wasn’t until the last moments that he began to worry a bit.
After all, if the life of a hundred-year-old man mingled with a twelve-year-old was overwhelming, then the true life of Farad Ibn Istel would swamp him totally. Except that, when he opened his eyes, Anders still felt like himself. He recalled it all, and had vast hallways of memory filled with information and even new books that had been placed there. Thousands of them, in fact.
It was as if he’d lived it, except that it was different than that. Thankfully.
“I have it all. Your entire life. That was... Interesting. It’s a memory, but... I’ve touched minds before, and it was never like that.”
Farad smiled.
“It was the same for me, it seems. Perhaps due to a deeper connection between us? We were, once, in part, the same man. Perhaps it is even part of how the crystals of memory work, unknown to either of us? A way to get both of us to the same place, on meeting? I do not truly know, but it was impressive, learning of what you have endured and mastered, in such a short time, Anders.”
Erold looked at him strangely then, and tilted his head.
“That was no more than a few moments... Farad is what he seems?”
Blinking, Anders closed his eyes again, and then took a deep breath.
“Yes. Not a perfect being, but more so than anyone either of us have ever met, as far as being good and kind. More so than me, at any rate. I think I have a copy of everything he’s ever seen, done or read. All the skills, as well. I can make that pastry now, I think?” He smiled, since that had truly been worth the learning. Many of the things from the other man had been.
Original Farad bowed his head a bit.
“So, we can go and see if we can dissuade Ganges from harming people for his own aggrandizement? If we can master the new skill well enough, that is. Trust me, there is very little use in fighting if it’s not needed. I don’t think that we can simply talk Ganges out of his plans, but...” He sighed. “I can’t forgive him what he did, but I have lived a very long time. There comes a point where you start to understand that nothing is truly forever. That a man, or woman, might do an evil thing one time and then be truly good for the rest of their days. With one like Ganges, who will not easily perish, might he not change enough to be worthy of forgiveness, eventually?”
Anders understood the thought, and even the desire behind it. Farad had fought his old friend, and thwarted him many times, attempting to protect others. There had never been even a single day, or even one dark moment where the man had hated Ganges. Even when he’d hated himself, for having failed his friend in the first place.
Instead of answering, not certain what the correct idea was, having seen the millions of dead that Ganges had stood upon over the ages, and the smaller, but still real mountain of corpses that Farad had climbed upon to tear his old friend down, Anders found a bed. The place they were in had a dozen rooms, and while the beds were a bit like sleeping on the ground as far as comfort went, he was so tired that he drifted off, as soon as he’d barred the door.
In the night, several times, his friends came to him, whispering in his ear, reporting what they’d found in those far-off lands they’d been asked to investigate. He thanked them, each time and placed what was told to him into the hall of memory, drifting back to sleep. It was a little annoying, that they were mistaking him for the other Farad, but it also made sense. It wasn’t as if they could see him as a small boy. They perceived the world, but without eyes or ears. Even when they spoke, it was different than true speech. More of a transfer of knowledge, as if reading a mind, instead.
It was fascinating, knowing what they were now. That they weren’t simply former people, but also the oldest gods, the spirits of places and times, as well as people long forgotten by even the histories that he held inside of himself. Only four of them made the mistake of thinking he was Farad though, so he got enough sleep, even if it was a bit interrupted at certain points. In the morning, rising at about the same time as the others, before the first real light of day, Anders reported what he’d been told.
“The land of Seraph is free of the spell of Ganges, but also has never dealt with him that they know of. Mithra, to the east and south cannot recall that he still lives at all, nearly as strongly as Istlan or Yanse are finding themselves affected. The rest of the world seems to be clear, after that.”
Farad didn’t ask how he’d learned of such things, already knowing, it seemed.
“I heard much the same. There are pockets of places affected in other lands, but nothing like what is happening here. Good then. If he’d learned to impact the entire world in such a fashion, we probably would have already lost. We need to go over the new skills, in a stronger fashion, as soon as we can. We should include Vogal, as well? He’s a capable fighter, but has always felt the lack of a personal magic rather keenly. Having a skill that can remove that from others might leave him feeling better about himself.”
That seemed to be a mere kindness, until, after their first meal, which Anders made for them, being light biscuits fried in oil, and a sauce made of fruit sweetened eggs, over fried rabbit strips, done well enough that Erold was watching him for betrayal. When that was consumed and Vogal called for, the real work began.
At first it didn’t seem to be that different than what they’d done the day before. Erold pushed at the man, who instantly stopped him from doing any kind of magic. Then, they fought, with Vogal easily disarming Erold, over and again, as if he were working with an untrained child. Then Anders was added, instructed to attempt as hard as he could, to overpower the man, using magic. He did manage it, several times, by fleeing to a great enough distance that he could cast spells again. Then, seeing that the light, the night before had worked, Anders impacted the world around the fighter, using that to impact him, instead of direct forces.
After the first few iterations of that, the other man took to simply following him, not allowing that trick to work, beating him soundly, the whole time.
Finally, all three of them, including Farad, tried to overpower the man’s skills. It took everything they had but they managed it, if only barely. Even at that, sending blasts of force and light at the fighter, Farad had to jump in and duel the man personally, to overcome him.
Anders got the idea.
“So, this is about the limit, isn’t it? As far as we know, Vogal here, at this moment, is the most powerful man in the world with this particular skill. What if we had several using this, though? Is there anyone we can ask to aid us, using magic against us, as we try to stop them, do you think?”
He asked Farad, feeling closer to him than anyone else in the world at the moment, but Vogal was the one who answered, using the same language that Anders had. Ferlith, which he’d learned the day before, reliving the life of the man that he’d once been. It was disconcerting, but he recognized who came, when called for.
A dozen men and women, all of whom smiled, and seemed both tall and powerfully built.
