The Purifying Fire: A Planeswalker Novel Read online

  Apart from Luti, none of the Keralians knew that Chandra had traveled the Blind Eternities, bridging that chaotic interval between the planes of the Multiverse, to steal that scroll on Kephalai, a world they’d never heard of and could never visit themselves.

  Chandra had heard of the scroll in her travels, and she was intrigued by its reputation. So, after some time studying and practicing at the Keep had improved her erratic control of pyromancy, Chandra decided to find and steal the scroll, which turned out to be a little better guarded than she had anticipated. That was a wild ride, to be sure. Still, she made it out with the scroll.

  Since the scroll was fragile, the brothers’ first act had been to make a few working copies of it. They had laboriously replicated the ancient writing by hand on fresh parchment.

  Consdiering what had happened next, it was lucky they had done so. If she ever saw that mage again, she told herself, she would be ready. He would not trick her again.

  Meanwhile, she knew from Luti’s expression that she had better remain silent while Brother Sergil explained the problem the monks were having with their copies of the scroll.

  “The script is archaic, a variant we have not seen before, so it’s taken us some time to interpret its meaning. We are sure, though,” Sergil said, with a dark glance at Chandra, “that we copied it correctly. The value of multiple brothers each making a copy means, of course, that we can compare all our results from the process and arrive at a consensus on the exact contents of the original. Right down to the tiniest brushstroke.”

  “Uh-huh.” Chandra folded her arms and didn’t attempt to conceal her boredom.

  Mother Luti, who was a full head shorter than Chandra and triple her age, gave her a quelling look.

  “The language of the scroll is a variant that our scholars haven’t encountered, so our conclusions aren’t as firm as one might wish. But it seems to be describing something of immense power, much as Chandra believed.” Brother Sergil made the grudging concession to her with a little nod.

  “An artifact? A spell? What?” Chandra was surprised.

  “It could be either … or something else entirely.”

  “I could have told you that,” said Chandra exasperated.

  “You mean you could have told us that had you a memory—”

  Mother Luti raised a hand to stop Brother Segril from going further, her head tilted in a gesture of contemplation. Her white hair shone brightly in the sunlight of the monastery courtyard where the three of them stood. “What kind of power?” she asked when she had their attention.

  “The scroll describes either an extraordinary source of mana, or it’s the key to accessing mana with extraordinary results. Either way, according to the scroll, it is something that will confer enormous power upon whomever unleashes it.” He shrugged. “It’s not clear to us if the text of the scroll declares this as a promise or as a warning. The intention of the author, like the its origin, is a mystery, Mother.”

  “And does the text strike you as fact or as fancy?” Luti asked.

  “Well …” He cast a glance at Chandra. “That might be easier to answer if we still had the original.”

  Chandra scowled. “If you’re blaming me because—”

  “No, I just mean,” the monk interrupted, “that the text seems to be saying the scroll itself contains the key to unlocking the mystery.”

  “But the location isn’t in the text you’ve got?” Luti asked.

  “No.”

  “And you copied the entire scroll?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’re saying that part of the scroll was missing?” Chandra guessed.

  “I don’t think so,” Brother Sergil said. “We’re still discussing it … but the text seems to be complete. And, physically, the scroll itself was certainly complete. It was fragile, but it wasn’t torn, or singed, or moth-eaten.”

  “So what are you saying?” Chandra asked.

  “The purported location of this powerful artifact seems to be concealed in an internal puzzle,” the monk said. “The answer may be in the text itself, it could be obfuscated by layers of magic, but …” He trailed off, clearly reluctant to continue.

  “But?” Luti prodded.

  “We’ve tried multiple ways of interpreting the text, various ways of scrambling the words and the letters, and numerous methods of translating the characters into numbers, various decryption spells …” He shook his head. “But so far, we only get gibberish. Of course, we’ll keep trying, because if whatever this is does exist—if the text has any basis in fact—then this is very important information. Whoever possesses the power it speaks of could rule worlds. However … well, it’s really starting to look as if, when the text says the key to understanding is contained in the scroll itself …”

  “You think it means the physical scroll?” Luti said. “The original?”

  “Perhaps, yes. We are increasingly drawn to that possibility,” Brother Sergil said.

  “Oh, that is disappointing,” Luti said.

  Chandra said, “Look, I did everything I could to stop the scroll from being tak—”

  “I didn’t mean it that way, Chandra,” Luti said. “We wouldn’t even have known about the scroll, if not for you, and we’d certainly never have seen it or had a chance to study it. Believe me, I’m well aware of how hard you fought to keep it from the, er, intruder. Indeed, the vegetable garden on the southern side of the monastery may never recover from your struggle with him. Well, not this year, anyhow.” She shrugged. “I just mean that it’s frustrating to discover something so intriguing … and now face the possibility of never solving the puzzle.

  “Since the stranger who took the scroll from us did not have the courtesy to identify himself,” Luti said to Sergil, “we’ll probably never know who sent him. If, indeed, anyone did send him. He may have been a free agent acting on his own behalf, after all.”

  “But we might be able to better estimate the veracity of the text if we knew more about its origins,” said Sergil. “That is to say, where Chandra found it.”

  “Where she found it and where it comes from may be completely different things, Brother. That’s a subject best left alone,” Luti said, “for the sake of everyone’s safety. We have all witnessed first hand the destruction that so closely followed the scroll’s arrival,” Luti paused, letting her words sink in. “We must make do with what we have. Please continue studying the text. The answer to the puzzle may well be in our possession and just temporarily eluding us.”

  Looking dissatisfied, but clearly not prepared to fight about it with Luti, Brother Sergil bowed his head. “Yes, Mother.”

  After he had left the sunny courtyard, Luti turned to Chandra. “Well?”

  Chandra shrugged. “If you’re wondering whether I noticed anything unusual about the scroll when it was in my possession, I can’t really answer that. And I swear by everything that burns, if I ever see that bastard again, I’ll blow him so high into the sky, his ashes won’t fall back down until people have forgotten he was ever born.”

  Luti didn’t smile at her pledge. “Guard yourself, Chandra. The fire you kindle for your enemy may burn you more than him.”

  “Is that Jaya?”

  “No, it is Luti. Listen, the Multiverse is a very big place,” Luti said. “It is probable that you will never run into that mage again. It is better to think about what you can control …”

  Chandra’s attention waned as Luti went on. She was grateful for her wisdom, but she could be tedious at times.

  “In a battle with another planeswalker, it’s said that Jaya cunningly defeated her opponent by—”

  “That stinking rat made me believe he was going to kill Brannon,” Chandra said.

  Luti broke off. She knew Chandra had not been listening at all, but she had hoped to penetrate the planeswalker’s obvious disinterest. “As soon to kindle a fire with snow as to quench the fire of rage with words,” she said, more to herself that to Chandra.

  “What does
that have to do with Brannon or what I said?” asked Chandra, unable to see the relevance of Luti’s words.

  Brannon lived at the monastery. His parents, ordinary peasant folk, had sent him here upon realizing they were increasingly unable to cope with the fiery power he had been exercising since early childhood. Because he needed instruction and supervision from people who understood his gift, his family had consigned him to the Keralians’ care several years ago.

  Chandra had also been a powerful child with parents who’d felt ill-equipped to deal with her explosive gifts. She felt some kinship with the boy and had become fond of him during her sojourn here.

  It had been a terrible shock to see him in the clutches of the other planeswalker. And it had been a relief as much as it was an infuriating surprise to discover that it was merely an illusion.

  Chandra was disgusted by the subterfuge of that planeswalker’s ploys. She understood how his tactics were ultimately successful, but she didn’t have to respect them. Chandra was used to dealing with conflict openly.

  “Anyway, as many times as I replay the fight in my head, I don’t even know if that jackass also managed to erase any other memories. If I had seen or felt anything special about the scroll, I have no memory of it now.” She shrugged. “I don’t even know what to think about what Brother Sergil said. I wish I remembered the scroll at all.”

  “I take it, then, that you don’t even remember where you heard about the scroll? That you have no idea what you thought you were going after in the first place?”

  “No.” Chandra asked. “What do you think?”

  “I believe what Brother Sergil told us. I believe that it tells of a great power, and I believe that it is old. And despite its supposed age, I’m also inclined to believe that the scroll, if it we are able to interpret it, could lead to the whatever it is.”

  “You really think something like this exists? That it can be found?” Chandra asked eagerly.

  “Oh, yes. After all, if the text is just some ancient scribe’s fancy, or if the power it speaks of has long since been seized or destroyed …” Luti shrugged. “Then why would the scroll be kept in a place as secure and heavily guarded as you described when you returned? What was it called again? The Sanctum of Stars?”

  “Yes.”

  “Full of extremely valuable objects?”

  “It sure looked that way to me.” Chandra was not a thief by trade, however, so the valuation of objects was hardly familiar to her, particularly in the rush of stealing the scroll.

  “It sounds as if they were quite prepared to kill to retrieve the scroll—and, indeed, to tear their own realm apart to find it … Well, their behavior certainly confirms that the scroll is important.” Luti paused. “And whether the previous owners of the scroll employed that planeswalker to come after it, or whether he followed you and retrieved it for his own reasons …”

  Chandra said, “I see your point.”

  “Sometimes thinking things through logically is beneficial.” Luti’s voice was dry.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  That night, Chandra dreamed of fire.

  Not the fire that exploded from her in the battle with the mind mage. And not the intoxicating heat she drew from the red stones of Mount Keralia.

  The fire in her dreams tonight wasn’t the flickering seduction of a new spell. It wasn’t the spine-tingling flame of her growing skill that lapped at the edges of her mind tonight. And it certainly wasn’t the heart-pounding art of boom she loved so much, with its showers of fire and light.

  This was the fire of sorrow and grief, the fire of shame and regret. This was the fire that consumed the innocent.

  In her sleep, she could hear their screams, as clearly as if it were happening all over again. She could see their writhing bodies. She whimpered as the stench of burning flesh assailed her nostrils. Her throat burned with sobs that wouldn’t come out. She tried to move, but her limbs were immobile. She wanted to scream, but her lips moved without sound.

  And when the blade of a sword swept down to her throat, she awoke with a gurgled scream of horror and shot upright, gasping.

  She was trapped in smothering darkness. She instinctively threw up her right hand and called forth flame, to ward off danger and illuminate her surroundings.

  Squinting against the sudden light of her fire magic, Chandra looked around in confusion.

  Then she realized where she was; her bed chamber in Keral Keep. Her heart was pounding. Her skin was slick with sweat. She was shaking. For a moment, she thought she would vomit. Her teeth chattered a little as she focused on breathing.

  In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out…

  She shook her hand to douse the flames before she wrapped her arms around her knees.

  She swallowed. She would not cry. She would not think.

  She would not remember.

  As she rocked back and forth, trying to calm herself, she started reciting her favorite passages from the Regathan sagas, at first just in her mind, the words flowing through her brain in a rapid tumble.

  Then, as she regained some control of herself, she started saying them aloud, and after a while, it worked, as it usually did. Her heart slowed to a normal rhythm. Her hands stopped shaking. Her teeth stopped chattering. Tears stopped threatening to fill her eyes.

  But she wouldn’t sleep again. Not tonight.

  So she rose from her bed, removed her simple linen shift, and started donning her clothes as if the garments were armor against her dreams.

  Chandra put on her leggings and her thigh-high boots. She pulled her calf-length tunic over her head. It was split from hip to hem to allow her free movement. Her clothes were reddish-brown, the material simple. They were the working garments of a woman with too much magical power and too much serious intent to waste time on fripperies and frills. But since it was nighttime and she wasn’t going anywhere, she left off her gauntlets and the leather vest she usually wore. The armor she needed right now was mental, not physical.

  Her bed chamber was small and simple, like everyone else’s at the monastery. It had a narrow wooden bed with linen sheets and rough wool blankets, a small table, a single chair, and a modest trunk. And this was all she needed. People at the Keralian Monastery, whether they were visitors or permanent residents, came here in search of wisdom, knowledge, and power, not the creature comforts of material wealth.

  The mountain air was cool at night, even at this time of year when the days were especially warm. Chandra welcomed the slight chill on her skin as she stepped out of her chamber, into the night air, and closed the door behind her. She moved quietly along the walkway, passing other chambers without waking anyone, until she reached the broad terrace on the eastern side of the monastery.

  The moon was full tonight and shone brightly. To the west of the monastery’s mountain were more mountains, but from this terrace, she gazed across the woodlands that lay peacefully below the imposing heights of Mount Keralia. And further east, past the forests, were the plains and the city of Zinara. When the air was this clear and still at night, she could see the tiny specks of light in the distance that were the flaming torches atop the great city’s watch towers.

  “Sleep soundly, little lambs,” she murmured contemptuously.

  The city was completely dominated by the Order of Heliud, a sect of mages whose dedication to an ordered society and strict adherence to law was becoming dictatorial. The city was prosperous under the Order’s influence, but the number of laws had tripled under their governance so that one was scarcely able walk down a street without breaking a rule or two. And when it came to magic, licenses to practice even the simplest of spells became necessary. Eventually, the Order became so bold as to outlaw many forms of magic, deeming anything other than their own brand of heiromancy—peacekeeping magic, as they liked to say, that emphasized law and order—as deleterious to the public health. It was even rumored that the practice of fire magic in Zinara would result in imprisonment, and any violent act involvi
ng fire magic was punishable by death.

  Needless to say, these stories from the city did little to foster relations between Keral Keep and the Order of Heliud.

  Chandra had been told that, during Mother Luti’s lifetime, the Order had gone from being merely an influential sect in Zinara and a few other cities, to dominating the entire plains region of Regatha. Under the current rule of Walbert III and his policy of “civilization for civil welfare,” it was even said their influence was spreading across the seas. But more to the point, the Order was aggressively seeking to “civilize” the mountain and woodland regions. It was clear to all that Walbert—dwelling in the massive, marble-pillared Temple of Heliud, the heart of the Order’s temporal and mystical power—aspired to control the entire plane.

  According to reports from Samir Mia Kauldi, a village chief of good standing among the many races of the Great Western Wood, Zinaran soldiers were patrolling the forests between Mount Keralia and the plains. Samir said that two human druids had recently been arrested for summoning creatures that the Order had recently declared “enemies of order.” Creature summoning—especially for the ritual combat that settled disputes among tribes—was an accepted and eons-old practice for the woodlanders, but the Heliuds believed that the path to civilization was paved with law, and that the law was equal before all. There were inviolate truths, objective standards of right and wrong, and it was for the Order of Heliud to see that all sapient beings on Regatha benefited from the application of such standards.

  To Chandra, this was so unreasonable as to seem insane. How could a group of people be so blind as to not see the shades of grey between the black and white truths they held so sacred? Surely a more relative approach was needed to accommodate the breadth of racial and cultural diversity on this great plane. However, as Samir had morosely reported to Luti, it wasn’t that easy to talk sense to well-armed soldiers on horseback.