NOVEL WEB Chapter 4: Essence Transference
Multiple books caressed by a wispy green cloud floated in silence. Some were massive, thick tomes and others were slender, frail volumes. The leather-bound texts hovered, rising and falling as if caught in an ocean’s gentle wave. The green mist coiled in a serpentine fashion from the volumes to the young woman lying on the floor. Judas, mesmerized, didn’t feel the sudden arrival of Atz, the dwaven with vermillion armor, who blinked into existence behind him.
“I’ve found her, she’s coming,” he said in haste, without preamble.
“Good,” Judas replied. “Tell the others we meet tonight.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“The usual.”
“Where?”
“Desert of the Forsaken,” the warlock instructed. Atz nodded and faded again, leaving the elder alone with the floating tomes of knowledge and the young girl.
He didn’t know how long it would take the Transference to work and to what degree. When she rose from her slumber, would she have acquired the sudden education, or would it take time for her mind to desegregate the jumble of learned material? Only time would tell.
He carefully selected particular volumes. The warlock wanted her to know generalities of Ermaeyth and the domain she’d reside in. There were too many texts covering numerous subjects to try to cram in her mind, so he used great care. Propriety, customs and culture, their language and grammar, a brief overview of history, and immediate geography were allowed. They were subjects of immediacy. Tales and histories of religion, people, and peculiar places such as the Temple of the Ghost Mists, the Abyss, Void-Knights, the Kran Empire, and witchen were unnecessary for her education and would only leave more questions than answers. She could do that on her own time.
There was the chance, of course, he’d destroy her mind in the process. A slim chance, but the burden of the decision pressed on him. Judas didn’t like the gamble, the conception unfavorable, but what was the alternative? With each passing moment, he wondered if the notion bothered him or the fact that it originated from the elder fairy. Qualms arose from failing to ascertain the truth.
He glanced down at the girl, standing vigil at her side while his inducement worked. Her consciousness brushed his, a sign she was aware of his presence. He thought about the events leading up to this point, wondering if he had made any wrong choices. Was Daylynn right? Should he have left her on the Other Side? He couldn’t be sure. He yearned to think he’d done everything right. He wished someone could tell him which direction to take. Judas never believed in people who claimed they saw the future, and he figured those who could wouldn’t go around saying so.
He doubted himself, always. He used meticulous care in his selection of books, keeping out certain volumes and restricting her knowledge. Some subjects were better for him to explain than for her to acclimatize to a biased opinion. She needed to make her own decisions, and he intended her to be a blank slate, free of prejudice. Each volume was selected with this forethought. In some ways, he was no better than the authors of those volumes, choosing what to convey. His choice to keep out books about the Wizard’s War might come back to haunt him, but he didn’t want to traumatize her any more than necessary. He would teach her the subject himself. She’d know a little, but he’d fill in the rest. He battled with a decision to include or exclude any subject on magic and finally relented to one volume from the Plotus branch, a rudimentary tome at best.
He cast the uncertainty aside and returned his thoughts to recent actions and the distant past, contemplating, trying to determine if he walked the right path. If not, he’d try to trace the forks of his decisions back to undo whatever damage he’d done. The right choice was hard to decipher in the moment, to be certain of the correct path when facing decisions, yet simple in retrospect.
He hoped she didn’t remember anything about her previous life; it’d make things easier and much more complicated. Easier because she wouldn’t want to return home and would accept this way of life as the only way. Complicated because he’d need to teach her everything as if she was a child. Children learned quicker than the old, but she lacked that benefit. In short, a difficult task lay ahead.
He hoped his gamble paid off and the Essence Transference worked. He littered this corner of the library with vast volumes of insight but even so, she wouldn’t comprehend everything, as there was so much to learn about the realm and of Ermaeyth. Magic, too. Some of the basic aspects were secreted in the leather bindings he used. Her power radiated, raw, undefined. Careful tutelage would craft her into a prosperous wizard. She may even achieve a high rank like Grand Master Wizard if she chose that path. She had options based on power alone. He would ease her into the subject.
He examined her again, but this time in a different light. She reminded him of her. He tried to block such thoughts and forget the pain forged in his heart for so long but failed. He realized, after a time, Julie was about the same age she would’ve been. He buried the thought, the memories. He knelt and gently touched her forehead. Again he experienced her subconscious swirling beneath the spell-induced sleep.
Another essence called to him, one not present; familiar, yet missed due to absence, akin to seeing relatives at a family reunion, half strange, half recognizable. A smile crept over his face, intuiting who reached out to him. He stood, his head turning to the direction from which the conjury called. He crossed the room to the window and gazed out over Ralloc. From this high up on the mountain, and in the castle spire, shops and other buildings looked like small lumps of brown sugar far below. He answered the essence, gently, not giving himself away to everyone. He focused his thoughts on the woman who called to him, a discreet answer.
He sent out his response, and he distinguished a refrain in her attempt to find him. She closed down, withdrawing from him. A tremor of presage rippled through him before she appeared. All magic gave off tale-tell signs, little vibrations. If someone was powerful enough, they could detect the effects before it happened, almost like a precognitive ability. Few possessed such insight, and Judas had to focus to perceive. Even he could be taken by surprise. Whenever the conjuring came, the more alien the essence, the more noticeable.
She manifested in the deep shadows between bookshelves, hidden by the swaddling black velvet. He stood staring at the spot, expecting her. Madam Meristal Raviils strode forward, her crimson robes with gold embroidery flapping softly with her movement. A petite woman with flaming red hair, violet eyes, and porcelain skin stepped into the light. If anyone could find a perfect woman, Judas was sure he gazed upon her now. To him, she was the epitome of beauty and elegance; he wondered how many men thought the same.
A smile flourished on his face. “Welcome, Meristal.” They met in the middle, he bending to kiss her hand. “Always a pleasure and delight to keep your company. I’ve been without it for quite some time!”
“Of course, it’s a pleasure to keep my company,” Meristal spoke, a fondness in her voice. Friends since before they entered the Wizard’s War, she had a way of subtle teasing, something he came to expect. He embraced her; a soft kiss planted on her cheek, her hair tickling his nose. She returned the tight embrace, both holding on for moments longer than friends would. She let go but held his arms. “We haven’t spoken for quite some time, a situation changing even as we speak. I finished my tour in Mecas River City. I’m back.” She radiated happiness.
“Welcome home, at least until they send you away again.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m retiring if they do.”
“You missed the hearing this morning.”
She gave an abashed smile. “I know, and I’m sorry. I am betting Consul Dathyr was behind my delay with the sudden arrival of paperwork in the eleventh hour.”
“Probably.”
“I hear they denied your citizenship again.”
“Yes, right before they asked for my help.”
“Where is she?”
“How do you know about her arrival?” Judas asked, suspicious. Somehow, Meristal was the second person aware of the arrival of the girl he brought back. She answered with her cryptic silence; he ushered her between the bookshelves towards Julie. Meristal gazed down at the girl wrapped up in Judas’s traveling cloak. She was a simple, but pretty girl.
“She seems fragile, delicate, and unable to take the bump and grind of everyday life in the realm,” she offered.
Judas surveyed the young woman. At first appearance, the girl seemed at peace, in a deep sleep. As they neared, he noted the girl’s brow knitted. Her teeth ground together.
Meristal’s head tilted up, surveying the books above the girls’ head near the ceiling. A green mist coiled around several publications and snaked down towards her head.
“She’s aware of our presence,” came Judas’s light whisper. “She’s fighting to wake up.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how this is possible.”
“Are we disturbing her?”
“Perhaps,” the warlock conceded. “She’s powerful; I can feel her trying so hard to fight me.”
“What are you doing with these books?”
“Essence Transference.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t do that! You take a chance in destroying her mind. The Essence hasn’t even been medically proven let alone tested. You’re going to kill her!”
He turned to Meristal. “Two people told me tonight I condemned her to die by bringing her here. At this point, does it matter?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m assuming she’ll live, and I’m trying to help her. If this works, there’ll be little we need to teach her. She’ll gain knowledge and history of the realm, all the important things about a place she has never been. She can start a life here.” He knelt beside the girl and glanced back up to his friend.
Meristal pondered, gazing at them, acquiescing his point with a silent nod. He knew what she was thinking. The girl could learn much, and they wouldn’t need to teach her as if a child. She’d be savvy, even raise her intelligence. If this worked, truly worked, he may have unwittingly discovered one of the greatest medical revelations, going a long way to combating forms of memory loss.
“When will you let her wake?” Meristal asked him, concerned.
“Around dawn.”
“They’ll make you send her back. You know that, don’t you?”
“They’ll try and fail. I won’t do anything I don’t want to. They can’t order an exile. I’m outside their jurisdiction, a call they made. I do try to abide by the laws to keep some semblance of peace. Their cry for me to return her would be against the law. Now that I’m thinking about it, I allow them to keep the Mirror of Imaesion, and they should be grateful. Without it, there’s no portal to the Other Side. Between destroying the mirror and sending her back, guess which one I’d pick?
“Wouldn’t destroying the mirror cause the realms to collapse? You made those magical laws, and now you’re an exile. Aren’t they void?”
“Maybe, to answer both of your questions,” Judas conceded, unconcerned.
“The big question is: would it reverse what you did to Xilor or his followers?” she prodded.
Judas turned and gave her a where-are-you-going-with-this expression. “Possibly.”
Meristal subsided, content to let the conversation end. “I noticed you called for a meeting tonight. Was it about her?”
“No, something else. I think it’s best we arrive separately.”
“Okay, I’ll wait five minutes after you leave.”
Judas looked down to the girl and back to Meristal. He trusted her with his life and that of the girl. Meristal fought at his side in the Wizard’s War, his companion before his exile, a friend afterward. He nodded, taking a small step back. He gathered his essence about him, it surged with his silent command, and he vanished.