A World Without Heroes
Page 26
The door opened silently, and Rachel entered, wearing the same ill-tailored outfit as the day before. Dorsio waited in the doorway behind her.
“Rachel,” the Blind King said, tipping his head toward the door. “I take it you mean to join Jason?”
“For his sake,” she answered. “It didn’t seem like he’d make it far without me.”
“Ouch,” Jason said. “That’s the problem with homeschoolers. They haven’t learned to interact with their peers.”
“Enough bickering,” the Blind King said. “Save your energy for the road. Dorsio, the surrounding countryside remains clear?”
Dorsio snapped his fingers.
“See that we remain undisturbed.”
Dorsio snapped again and exited.
“Now that I’m officially coming,” Rachel said, “what’s the big secret?”
Jason explained about the book and the Word. She listened stoically. The Blind King advised Jason to wait to share the first syllable until he and Rachel were on the road, then repeated his advice about how to avoid provoking Maldor.
“So we’re going on a quest to find a magic word?” Rachel asked in the end. She seemed underwhelmed.
“Maldor was apprenticed to an evil wizard called Zokar,” the Blind King explained. “As a prerequisite to apprenticeship, dark wizards used to force their novices to allow a destructive spell to be woven into their physical makeup. A key word of Edomic could activate the spell and annihilate them. The practice granted the higher wizard assurance that his pupil would never turn on him.”
“And anyone can say the key word?” Jason checked.
“The key words were designed to be the simplest conceivable activation tools,” the king said. “This gave the mentoring wizard the assurance that he could overcome his apprentice under almost any circumstances. The main protection to the vulnerable pupil was his trust that his master would keep the key word a secret and never use it unfairly.”
“But Zokar shared Maldor’s word,” Rachel concluded.
“Evidently,” the Blind King said. “Zokar must have shared the Word after terminating his relationship with his apprentice. Typically, obscure and slippery words were chosen, to minimize the chances of the destructive spell being triggered accidentally.”
Jason grabbed an extra piece of bacon. “The Book of Salzared said that I have to memorize the syllables, but to never say the Word or write it down, or it will be erased from my memory.”
The Blind King gave a nod. “Edomic words of power can only be retained by the most adept, practiced minds. Part of the magic inherent in these key words causes them to be forgotten upon utterance. Learn the syllables, but only combine them mentally. Do not write or speak them in any combined form, or you risk losing them. You will only get a single chance to utter the Word entire, and that must be in the presence of the emperor.”
“You really think this will work?” Rachel asked, taking a piece of bread.
“I have wagered my life, and the lives of many around me, on that certainty,” the Blind King affirmed. “Seek the Word diligently. Hope that for a time Maldor will take interest in you and study you rather than speedily crush you. Beware: Even his gentlest tests can be deadly. And be prepared for the moment when Maldor will come for you in earnest. The closer you get to success, the greater peril you will face. The emperor will not let you succeed. Somehow you must triumph in spite of that.”
“You didn’t,” Rachel pointed out.
“Correct,” the Blind King said wearily. “We can only hope that you will be clever or skillful or lucky where I was not. The way will be grueling, but with the knowledge you now possess, there is no other option—you must proceed.”
Jason nodded, then remembered that the Blind King could not see the affirmation. “We’ll do our best.”
“Good lad. How adept are you at the art of swordplay?”
“Not at all.”
“Have you any weaponry?”
“No.”
“Rachel?”
“Uh, I have my camera. And a canteen.”
“I have some gifts for you.” With a firm shove against the arms of his chair, the Blind King stood and walked over to the headboard of his bed. As he pressed a pair of acorns embossed onto the wood, a panel sprang open, revealing a small compartment. The king removed a couple of articles.
“This poniard is yours now, Jason,” the king said, holding out a small dagger. “Its edge is most keen. If you press this blossom on the hilt and slide it forward, the blade becomes a short-range projectile. It is spring-loaded, commissioned from Brin the Gamester. May it serve you well.”
The Blind King sheathed the dagger, and Jason placed it in a deep pocket of his trousers. “Thank you.”
“I would give you a sword, but openly carrying a weapon you have not mastered is more dangerous than traveling unarmed. Beware men who carry swords. They will know how to use them.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Rachel?” The king held up a crystal sphere, just smaller than a baseball, with a small stone inside. “This mineral is orantium. It combusts when exposed to air or water. Sealed in the sphere with a pure gas the stone is harmless, but shattering the crystal produces a mighty explosion. An ideal tool for destroying manglers. Even if a mangler bests you, with this on your person you will not perish alone.”
A crease appeared between Rachel’s eyebrows. “If it combusts when it’s exposed to air, how did anyone get the mineral in the first place?”
The Blind King cleared his throat. “Long ago, at the fringe of recorded history, orantium was mined from the bowels of Mount Allowat, the only place it was ever found. The day came when the miners reached an enormous vein too dangerous to extract, and they abandoned the project. Over time the method of extracting the mineral was lost, as was the location of the mountain. This sphere is a relic from ancient times, one of a dwindling number of orantium explosives.”
“What if I crack the sphere by accident?” Rachel asked.
“You would be blasted to pieces. But the crystal casing is quite durable. Fling it with considerable force against a hard surface, or the sphere may not rupture.”
The king handed over the globe. “You are very kind,” Rachel said.
“As neither of you is a warrior, avoiding confrontations should represent your best hope. Use evasion and persuasion. The knife and orantium are meant as a last resort.”
“Rachel,” the Blind King said, tipping his head toward the door. “I take it you mean to join Jason?”
“For his sake,” she answered. “It didn’t seem like he’d make it far without me.”
“Ouch,” Jason said. “That’s the problem with homeschoolers. They haven’t learned to interact with their peers.”
“Enough bickering,” the Blind King said. “Save your energy for the road. Dorsio, the surrounding countryside remains clear?”
Dorsio snapped his fingers.
“See that we remain undisturbed.”
Dorsio snapped again and exited.
“Now that I’m officially coming,” Rachel said, “what’s the big secret?”
Jason explained about the book and the Word. She listened stoically. The Blind King advised Jason to wait to share the first syllable until he and Rachel were on the road, then repeated his advice about how to avoid provoking Maldor.
“So we’re going on a quest to find a magic word?” Rachel asked in the end. She seemed underwhelmed.
“Maldor was apprenticed to an evil wizard called Zokar,” the Blind King explained. “As a prerequisite to apprenticeship, dark wizards used to force their novices to allow a destructive spell to be woven into their physical makeup. A key word of Edomic could activate the spell and annihilate them. The practice granted the higher wizard assurance that his pupil would never turn on him.”
“And anyone can say the key word?” Jason checked.
“The key words were designed to be the simplest conceivable activation tools,” the king said. “This gave the mentoring wizard the assurance that he could overcome his apprentice under almost any circumstances. The main protection to the vulnerable pupil was his trust that his master would keep the key word a secret and never use it unfairly.”
“But Zokar shared Maldor’s word,” Rachel concluded.
“Evidently,” the Blind King said. “Zokar must have shared the Word after terminating his relationship with his apprentice. Typically, obscure and slippery words were chosen, to minimize the chances of the destructive spell being triggered accidentally.”
Jason grabbed an extra piece of bacon. “The Book of Salzared said that I have to memorize the syllables, but to never say the Word or write it down, or it will be erased from my memory.”
The Blind King gave a nod. “Edomic words of power can only be retained by the most adept, practiced minds. Part of the magic inherent in these key words causes them to be forgotten upon utterance. Learn the syllables, but only combine them mentally. Do not write or speak them in any combined form, or you risk losing them. You will only get a single chance to utter the Word entire, and that must be in the presence of the emperor.”
“You really think this will work?” Rachel asked, taking a piece of bread.
“I have wagered my life, and the lives of many around me, on that certainty,” the Blind King affirmed. “Seek the Word diligently. Hope that for a time Maldor will take interest in you and study you rather than speedily crush you. Beware: Even his gentlest tests can be deadly. And be prepared for the moment when Maldor will come for you in earnest. The closer you get to success, the greater peril you will face. The emperor will not let you succeed. Somehow you must triumph in spite of that.”
“You didn’t,” Rachel pointed out.
“Correct,” the Blind King said wearily. “We can only hope that you will be clever or skillful or lucky where I was not. The way will be grueling, but with the knowledge you now possess, there is no other option—you must proceed.”
Jason nodded, then remembered that the Blind King could not see the affirmation. “We’ll do our best.”
“Good lad. How adept are you at the art of swordplay?”
“Not at all.”
“Have you any weaponry?”
“No.”
“Rachel?”
“Uh, I have my camera. And a canteen.”
“I have some gifts for you.” With a firm shove against the arms of his chair, the Blind King stood and walked over to the headboard of his bed. As he pressed a pair of acorns embossed onto the wood, a panel sprang open, revealing a small compartment. The king removed a couple of articles.
“This poniard is yours now, Jason,” the king said, holding out a small dagger. “Its edge is most keen. If you press this blossom on the hilt and slide it forward, the blade becomes a short-range projectile. It is spring-loaded, commissioned from Brin the Gamester. May it serve you well.”
The Blind King sheathed the dagger, and Jason placed it in a deep pocket of his trousers. “Thank you.”
“I would give you a sword, but openly carrying a weapon you have not mastered is more dangerous than traveling unarmed. Beware men who carry swords. They will know how to use them.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Rachel?” The king held up a crystal sphere, just smaller than a baseball, with a small stone inside. “This mineral is orantium. It combusts when exposed to air or water. Sealed in the sphere with a pure gas the stone is harmless, but shattering the crystal produces a mighty explosion. An ideal tool for destroying manglers. Even if a mangler bests you, with this on your person you will not perish alone.”
A crease appeared between Rachel’s eyebrows. “If it combusts when it’s exposed to air, how did anyone get the mineral in the first place?”
The Blind King cleared his throat. “Long ago, at the fringe of recorded history, orantium was mined from the bowels of Mount Allowat, the only place it was ever found. The day came when the miners reached an enormous vein too dangerous to extract, and they abandoned the project. Over time the method of extracting the mineral was lost, as was the location of the mountain. This sphere is a relic from ancient times, one of a dwindling number of orantium explosives.”
“What if I crack the sphere by accident?” Rachel asked.
“You would be blasted to pieces. But the crystal casing is quite durable. Fling it with considerable force against a hard surface, or the sphere may not rupture.”
The king handed over the globe. “You are very kind,” Rachel said.
“As neither of you is a warrior, avoiding confrontations should represent your best hope. Use evasion and persuasion. The knife and orantium are meant as a last resort.”
