They followed Zontar downwards, descending the narrow corridors of the Gray Tower and sinking ever more deeply into the silence of the night.
Dorian shuddered involuntarily as the light of the silvery moon, seeping in through a loop hole, hit the face of the Sage: he looked like a specter, gliding through the nocturnal calm of the tower. Raduan uneasily followed his friend a step behind, wondering what awaited them.
Magic, Zontar had said, but in a tone of voice that betrayed his amusement. Yet the Sage did not seem the kind of person to make light of the Arcane Arts: it was said that the Enlightened made extensive use of them, and surely, if Zontar was their leader... As for himself, the only contact Raduan had ever had with the Arcane Arts had been around the summer campfires, where horrible creatures and fearless magicians came to life in the verses of the bards. And perhaps, in the Ritual of Liberation. But was that even magic? Or was it something different, something that only Abel could explain?
They continued their descent in the lantern’s flickering light until they reached the dark underground levels of the Tower. The damp was such that the rough rock walls were covered with water, which dripped into pools on the floor. There were numerous passages that opened off the main corridor and disappeared into the shadows down to depths untold.
“The number of tunnels down here is so great that even I know only a small portion of them” said Zontar, anticipating his guests’ curiosity. “The Gray Tower still holds many surprises. I believe that some of the creatures I faced so many years ago may have taken refuge here, away from the eyes of the world…”
Unsure of whether the Sage was simply making fun of them or not, Dorian and Raduan quickened their pace, careful not to leave the circle of light cast by the lantern. After countless turns they came to a portal so massive and solid that it seemed to have been carved out of stone. Curiously, it had no handle, lock or any other opening mechanism: its surface was smooth and uniform, with the exception of a silver symbol in its centre, portraying a tower in miniature.
“This helps me to sleep soundly” Zontar said. “Look.”
He put the tip of his thumb on the carved figure, and whispered a word the two could not make out. In response, the symbol emitted a faint halo of white light. There was a sharp click, like the opening of a lock, and the door slid upwards without a noise, disappearing into the ceiling.
“A rather trifling use of the Arcane Arts” said the Sage, countering Dorian and Raduan’s amazed looks with a smile “But I could not ask for better protection for my laboratory: the door opens only to the pressure of my thumb, and with a keyword. There is no way to force it.”
They took a step forwards in the dark. A moment later, with a flash of blinding light, dozens of lanterns lit in unison. Raduan let out a cry: before their eyes was an amazing sight. The hall was vast, and was occupied by numberless workbenches, shelves and strange devices of all shapes and sizes. There were tools, books and test tubes everywhere. Colored liquids bubbled in pots and stills. Strange scents, whistles and a buzzing filled the air with the ceaseless symphony of science. The room seemed to have a life of its own.
“The lamps light themselves, another small comfort. Please excuse the apparent mess – it is only superficial: I tend to undertake several experiments at any one time.” Zontar’s pride oozed from every pore. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”
“It is really... fascinating” said Dorian.
“Yes... fascinating” Raduan agreed, for lack of anything better to say. He had never set foot in such a place before.
“Thank you” replied Zontar amiably. “Now follow me, please. There is something rather interesting that I would like to share with you.”
They followed Zontar along the narrow space between two rows of stills. Dorian paid close attention to where he put his feet, careful not to step on anything. Raduan almost burned himself when he involuntarily bumped against a scorching cauldron.
“Be careful how you go!” said Zontar “If you want to lose a limb, at least try not to do so at the expense of my experiments!”
“Sorry” Raduan blushed, rubbing his hurt arm.
“Uhmpf! All right, we are almost there.”
Zontar approached a stone workbench at the center of the room, and drummed his fingers on the rough surface. The attention of his two guests was drawn to the items on display on the counter: a sword, a shield and a pair of boots. Nothing special, at first glance.
“I would like you to assist me with a little experiment” said Zontar, smiling “Nothing dangerous, do not worry. It will help you to understand better. Commander Dorian, wear those boots please: I think they are roughly your size. And take the sword and shield...”
Dorian obeyed, though he felt some trepidation. Raduan followed him with a grin, happy that he hadn’t been chosen as the guinea pig.
“And you, Master Raduan. Please get that club and that shield.”
Now it was Dorian’s turn to smile as Raduan reluctantly did what had been requested of him.
“Good!” declared Zontar, with a certain excitement. “We are going to feign a brief struggle. But, as you will see, not everything is what it seems!”
“Are you sure that...?” Raduan protested, but the Sage calmed him:
“There is no risk, don’t worry. Now take a few steps away from each other... That’s it, perfect! Let the show begin! Master Raduan, attack your Commander. And Dorian, do not try to parry the blow: just dodge it. And pay attention to your balance!”
Raduan, nervous, prepared to attack.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“I always am” said Dorian, winking.
Raduan stepped forward and aimed a blow from above, without great enthusiasm. Dorian dodged it by leaping backwards, as he had been asked to do. To his great surprise, despite having made little effort to escape the feeble blow, he found himself floating three feet above the ground. He landed clumsily on his heels and nearly fell. Raduan stared at him open-mouthed.
“Very good!” Zontar laughed, clapping his hands “Did you enjoy the experience, Commander?”
“But... how...?” Dorian stammered, looking at his feet. Where had all that momentum come from?
“Let’s leave the explanations aside for now. Let’s continue with the experiment! Repeat the sequence, please. Only this time Dorian, you should parry with your shield. And as for you, Master Raduan, put a little more energy into those strikes please!”
Raduan turned a doubtful look to his friend, as if to ask if he should go on. Dorian nodded. He advanced almost on tiptoe, fearing that the boots would play a trick on him. As agreed, Raduan repeated the previous attack, but this time with greater momentum. Dorian stood firmly and lifted his round shield to protect his head.
The moment Raduan’s club touched the surface of the shield it was enveloped in a blaze of blue light, and the club bounced off it as if repelled by an invisible barrier. A blue flash spread from the shield to the club, sizzling down to the handle and to the hand that held it. Raduan cried out in pain and dropped the weapon.
“What kind of joke is this?” he exclaimed, angrily. His hand had become as inert as a piece of wood.
“Calm yourself Master Raduan! It will pass in a moment. The shield is set to stun, nothing worse” said Zontar.
“Unbelievable!” murmured Dorian, unable to look away. The blue light on the shield died down until it disappeared.
“A formidable means of defence” the Sage said “But we are not done yet. It is time for the sword! And I am sure you will enjoy this even more!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure...” Raduan grumbled, uncomfortable with the turn of the events.
“Fear not, Master Raduan, no harm will come to you this time! Hold the shield before you, away from your body. Now Commander, hit him with the sword!”
“Why am I always the one to take a beating?” muttered Raduan, but the Sage did not heed his words.
Dorian studied the blade for a few moments, wondering what would happen th
is time. Then he attacked: he directed an irresolute blow at Raduan’s shield, afraid of hurting him. Raduan stiffened his muscles and held his breath, expecting some kind of violent reaction.
Clang!
Raduan peered over the edge of the shield and gave Dorian a quizzical look. His friend shrugged. Nothing had happened.
“I forgot!” said Zontar “The sword needs a... touch of magic. Utter this word while you strike, commander: Azvan. The rest will follow.”
“As you wish.”
This time, an instant before the sword completed its arc, he pronounced the word in a determined voice:
“Azvan!”
With a hiss, the blade shone with a burning orange light, like a fiery bolt. It sank up to the hilt into the thick metal of Raduan’s shield, cutting it in two as if it were made of butter. The severed half fell to earth with smoldering, burnt edges, while the other was left hanging from the fingers of a shocked Raduan. The warrior stared at the glowing blade, just a foot away from his nose, and once more wondered if the Sage really deserved his title.
Dorian was speechless. A weapon like that rendered any kind of armor useless. In all likelihood, it could even breach the walls of a fortress.
“Your expressions say it all” Zontar remarked smugly. “But this is just a tiny example of the power of the Arcane Arts.”
“An appalling power, in my opinion” said Dorian, poised between excitement and fear.
“No doubt, Commander. And this explains why I treat these things with the utmost discretion. If such artifacts should fall into the wrong hands it would be a source of enormous trouble for us all.” He rubbed his brows. “As a matter of fact, they are unstable, and they do not have an endless energy supply at their disposal. For this reason alone they could never make a man all-powerful. Nevertheless, the temptation to possess such artifacts is a very hard one to resist...”
He shot an ambiguous look towards Dorian.
“Talking of which... You may return the items now please. The exhibition is over.”
Dorian did so unflinchingly. Not for a single moment had it occurred to him to do otherwise: he did not trust that sword, nor the shield and the boots despite their extraordinary powers. Maybe because of them.
“Thank you, Commander” said Zontar, putting the items back in their place. “I imagine that at this point you may want to learn more about their inner workings. As I said, these are but a drop in the ocean of possibilities that the Arcane Arts can offer. But if you look more deeply, all of these items – these magical items, if you like - belong to the same family. They spring from the same source. I would like to explain this to you better, if I may. Let us get more comfortable.”
He cleared a bench of books and test tubes and freed some space for the two warriors. He sat beside them, and began to explain:
“From the beginning, man has always been interested in the study of natural phenomena and the mechanisms that lie behind them. There is nothing new there. Let us take fire for example. Our discovery of how to make it was one of the first scientific breakthroughs of our civilization. For how long have we known how to light a fire, how to keep it alive, how to tame it and use it to achieve our ends? Knowledge is passed down from generation to generation, increasing and improving it whenever possible, and the history of fire is no exception: we now have lamps, furnaces, forges, all these tools that were once unthinkable, and yet all share the same root, based on the initial discovery of how to start fire.”
“True”, said Raduan. Dorian merely nodded.
“If you look, you will begin to realize that this process takes place in every area of our knowledge. First there is some kind of discovery, based on the observation of a natural phenomenon. This discovery is then expanded on and deepened to serve specific purposes. This research is put into practice through the creation of instruments and tools, which become more and more refined as time passes. And when possible, the details of each stage of the process are recorded in writing, shared among scholars and handed down to future generations.”
Zontar paused, making sure that the two Company members had followed his train of thought.
“So far nothing new, am I right? Please excuse me for the long preamble, I tend to lose track of time when talking about such subjects!”
“We are in no hurry.”
“That is good, but we should get to the point. There is only one area of knowledge where the process works in reverse: I refer to the Arcane Arts, which the ignorant call magic. We can forge artifacts of great power with them, as you have seen. But the absurdity of this is that nobody has any idea of how or of when the Arcane Arts originated! There are no chronicles, no gradual evolution over time... The truth is that we have based our studies on a small number of artifacts found over the years at the four corners of the Kingdom, and that is all. Ancient artifacts, manufactured by whom? We don’t know. And in most cases we have no understanding of how they work.”
Dorian and Raduan exchanged dismayed looks. All the legends and fantastic stories they had heard since childhood showed the Sages as the legitimate creators and custodians of the Arcane Arts! Neither of them had been expecting that this ancient tradition of thought would be placed in doubt by the Sage Zontar himself, the leader of the Enlightened.
“Basically, as you have probably guessed” continued Zontar, with a rueful smile “We are not as wise as we are purported to be. For several centuries the Sages have invested time and resources in the search for ancient artifacts of power, so as to study their behavior and attempt to reproduce it. However, this has often been without result, or worse, with disastrous effects. For this very reason, every time a scholar of the Arcane Arts is successful in an experiment, it is his duty to put everything down in writing, so that the precious achievement is not lost.”
“Indeed” said Raduan.
“This was one of the reasons that gave rise to the ancient Guild of the Sages: the need to share and pass on the knowledge acquired. Unfortunately, this was also the main cause of the fracture within the Guild, and its parting between the Brotherhood of the Enlightened, which I myself founded, and those accursed Children of the Night! Some of us think that knowledge should be shared and used for the good of humanity. Others believe that it should be an instrument of power.”
“Crawl...” murmured Dorian, remembering Abel’s teachings. The Black Shaman was the backbone of the Children of the Night.
“Indeed. He and many others of his kind, unfortunately” Zontar conceded, frowning. “The world would be a far better place if the Sages were still united under the same purpose as before.” He sighed. “But we are digressing. Excuse me if I repeat myself: there was no ancient testimony on the use of the Arcane Arts, of that I am certain. The oldest known text on the subject is ‘On the Artifacts of Power’, written by the great Ceilon, yet it contains nothing but the summarized description of preexisting artifacts! There is nothing to indicate from when or whence the artifacts came!”
Zontar saw the dismay on the warriors’ faces.
“I realize how unlikely this sounds, and I share your frustrations. I will tell you though that despite the many uncertainties about the origins of the Arts, we have had many breakthroughs over the decades. We are now able to explain and partly reproduce phenomena that our predecessors would have considered to be of divine nature. You have seen it with your own eyes!”
The Sage winked at Raduan, and gave him a proud smile.
“The three items that you saw at work are the result of my modest skills. I tried to reproduce the behavior of artifacts that I had studied, and I was more successful than I had imagined. Would you like to know how?”
His eyes widened.
“Pay careful attention, as I am about to explain to you the basis for everything related to the artifacts of power and their functions. The very root of the Arcane Arts...”
And now for some chit chat…
Alas, gentle reader, here ends the first part of the tale...
Thank you fo
r following me this far!
This is only the beginning of the adventures of Kyra, Dorian and Raduan, originally written in Italian: the second part of “City of the Automatons” awaits, as do “The Forge of Destiny” and “The Eternal Flame”.
I hope it has been an enjoyable and exciting read up to this point! I would be very grateful if you could give me five minutes of your time to let me know your opinion at:
[email protected] Translating my work into English is not an easy task, but if you would like to read on, and if you, like me, are eager to continue, please make some noise and let me know!
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Thank you again, I hope to see you soon!
With affection,
Francesco
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