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Old Farad, the original version, asked them both in very politely, then made tea, which was served in tiny cups, on fine saucers, to catch any drips that might have come into being. He didn’t speak at all, other than to enquire after how they took their beverages, until their drinks were dark enough to sip at without wondering if anything had been put in it.
Anders, smiling a bit, checked his for poison anyway, using his mind. There was nothing there, that he could find. Erold did the same, then took a tentative sip as Farad looked at him, with a decent level of closeness.
“Do you wish sugar, or honey? I have some milk around here, someplace.” The man looked around, as if that would help him find that kind of thing. Which, wasn’t difficult for Anders to locate, using wizardry, it was on the low shelf like object that ran along the far wall. It was being preserved, but in a way that he simply didn’t understand.
Before he could ask after how it worked, the man started to speak, settling gently into a heavy wooden chair. It had pillows on it, as did all the seats there. Everything inside was brightly colored, claims of recent cave dwelling having been made or not.
Old Farad turned to look at him, his eyes narrowing, slightly.
“First... you defeated Alder in a fight? I don’t approve of his choice of methods, but it’s a rare man that can wake up in the dark, being attacked with a knife and survive, much less truly win the battle. He told me that facing you felt like going up against a true martial master, at the time.”
He felt slightly annoyed, but didn’t let that show. It could be what was wanted, after all. A thing asked only to throw him off his game, for the coming conversation.
“It wasn’t easy or simple. I woke up and flailed around well enough that I could call off a spell and make his eyes glow as brightly as the sun. That left him permanently blind. Then he rallied, after a time and called for a golem made of stone. I dashed hither and yon, until my friend and mentor, Depak Sona, could capture the... devic?” He knew the word, but checked to make certain he was using it correctly. The white-haired man dipped his head, once, indicating he had the right thing. “Then the stone stopped moving. We trapped the entity in a chicken, which we placed in a jar.”
The man winced then and held the strained look for some time.
“I... Understand. With the defeat of Alder, his friend would have continued to fight, if something wasn’t done. You might release him now? Let him know that it’s safe to return home, instead of being trapped like that? It isn’t healthy for them. Well, imagine being trapped in the dark for months or years. It is like that for them.”
Prince Erold took a sip of his tea, nodding.
“We just break the jar open and ask the being within to go back to his home? Won’t it be angered that Duke Cohen is gone? We didn’t kill him, but if someone did that to me and then claimed to be innocent of killing, say, Anders, I don’t know that I’d go peacefully.”
That was waved away, as if being of no consequence.
“Take Alder with you, and he can explain things? He isn’t upset with you, personally. Neither of you. That one man...Len, was it? I had to beg him not to go back to seek his revenge personally. With some reason, it seems, if a powerful devic can be trapped by your people. Depak Sona? Master Depak, but from the South, perhaps? I don’t know the name.”
Sipping his own drink, a bitter leaf that cleansed the palate, Anders took a deep breath.
“The Great One of Barquea. A former Sula there. Also, even if he didn’t know of it until recently, the son of Ganges. Before we go forward, you should know that both Ganges himself and a copy of him, Rothina, are in Istlan, at the castle there. They’re trying to take over the world. I’d hoped that, well...” He blushed, and looked away, since the former plans seemed so out of place, suddenly.
Erold spoke, his voice very calm and even.
“The hope was that Lady Martya, who has been watching us for seven or eight years, would be so entranced with the return of Farad Ibn Istel that she, and they, would both give up their plans. It doesn’t seem to be working that way.”
Waving, he tried to collect himself before speaking.
“That... Is about the plan. One that Ganges came up with, when I found him in my old home. At the hermitage? The inside is covered with carvings of us. Of you, specifically. A shrine to you, or so it seemed. Now, you have a story to share? Mine is, I have to think, less interesting than your own.”
The man looked across the slightly cluttered space, seeming to be thinking something, or falling into a trance, to recall it all.
“You say that, but I lived my tales, not yours. Anything you do will seem far more interesting, given that. Still, I can see the desire to know about what took place, while you were not there.”
He paused then, but only for a few moments.
“Ganges and I lived together, for twenty-two years, before my first real death. Things were good, for a long time. I... Am not a lover of men, by nature. Having grown over time, I see little harm in such things now, but I was a product of my upbringing and lacking such desires, I didn’t seek him out that way. Not for a long time. When I did, I felt wrong, doing that sort of thing. It made him happy, so I did it, when I could. Still, other than that, things were fine, between us. I worked, collecting histories, and tending the animals, as well as our small farm. Ganges grew in strength, over time, but eventually became dissatisfied with the powers he had collected for himself.”
The man stood, and began to pace, in a pattern that was familiar to Farad. A thing he used to do himself, when recalling the old tales in an informal setting.
“I noticed it starting, about fifteen years into our living together. There were small things at first. Frustrations at not having the personal power to make grand projects. A vast ocean like lake, or a small hollow mountain of a home. Things that no one truly needed at all. Grand things, but he refused to listen to common sense, or to work slowly, over a long period of time, even if he knew by then that the natural course of aging would never take him. He demanded everything be presented to him in that moment. A thing that grew worse, for a very long time.”
There was a loud swallow then, and a shuddering inhalation.
“I tried, so very hard, to dissuade him from the course he seemed inclined to take. All those texts, inside of him, told of how to gain power. Through the use of blood and death. Only, it’s obvious that even one life is worth more than a small fresh water ocean coming into being where nature doesn’t need it. So, we argued, occasionally, about what he should do that way. For a long time, years, I won out. Until one day I noticed the rains had made the river swell, and one of our goats was stuck on a floating log. I tried to get it back, but, alas, swimming wasn’t a skill of mine, so I drowned and died.”
He seemed to be ready to end the tale there, or at least be waiting for any questions that might be asked to be presented at that moment. Anders spoke, his voice soft.
“Ganges was off to town, to buy supplies?”
There was a smile then.
“Exactly right. So, he mentioned that much?”
“Only to that point and finding you. Then, not bringing you back, even though he could have, and going mad in his grief... Becoming a monster.”
Old Farad snorted, loudly and with a wry expression on his face.
“Oh? Was that his tale? Think, Anders Brolly, I was but one man. One admired by him, perhaps truly loved, but people move past the pain of loss and death, in time. We all do that. No man would go to war with the entire world for hundreds of years because of such a thing, would they? I say no. Then, Ganges didn’t leave me dead. You might have gathered that, since I’m sitting here at this moment.”
Both of the younger men nodded, though Anders spoke, after another soothing sip of tea. The thin cup was warm against his lip, though the interior of the house was cool, even in the warmth of the day outside.
“I’d wondered at that part of things. He’d always been a bit chatty and sought adventure, but he’d never seemed to be lost in tales of romance or such tales, in particular. The Ganges I knew was, I have to think, a different one than you did, by then.”
“True! There was much change in him after the use of that crystal. Anyway, after I drowned, I woke with a start, in our home, some two weeks later. Healed, whole and perfect. I was lost for the first days, not understanding what had been done. While dead, I’d become a devic, for a time, a powerful spirit, able to hold myself to this world, after death. A human one, unlike most, but I’d understood what had taken place. I had that gift, the ability to join with others, in life, and my meditations on memory had strengthened my being to a point where I lived on. Then, in an instant, I was pressed back into my flesh, which was healed and anchored inside of it. Much like your friend Depak did with that chicken, I have to imagine. It was at first, a fine thing, to me.”
Taking a single, rather slow breath, Anders closed his eyes.
“Until you found the pile of sacrificed people?”
“Heh. I found the crypt that had been made for them, and figured out why over a dozen people were dead, in a place that hadn’t existed even a few weeks prior, yes. All of them were young. Children, the oldest of whom was still small and not to the first blush of adulthood. I...”
He stopped then, and closed his eyes.
“It was the first time in my life that I truly tried to kill anyone. Ganges and I fought then, with, as you might imagine, myself being a historian by trade and him a wizard of renowned even then, me not doing very well. When I woke up, after being flung across our home in a blast of pure force, I cursed him.” The man finished his cup, and then set it down on the counter, on the far side of the narrow room they were in.
He paced for a while then, and finally shook himself, as if to break out of the cycle of memories.
“I wasn’t angry at being bested in a fight. I hadn’t even considered that I could have won, back then. Instead, I stood up, and told him that I would fight him, to the best of my ability, for as long as I lived. That he was a monster, for having murdered innocent children, just to have an old man back in their place. I recall saying something to the effect that even one of their lives was worth a hundred of his, and my own, not the other way around. Then, packing what I owned, I left.”
There was a long pause, and then Prince Erold spoke into the emptiness left hanging thickly between them all.
“You sought to fight him then?”
The man laughed.
“Of course not. I was vastly disappointed in him, a thing that nothing would, or has, ever fixed, but there wasn’t anything to fight against, back then. He was a great wizard, but not running around killing or harming anyone. Not that I heard of. No, I moved back to the hermitage, learned more of history and began to experiment with the devic, having been one of them for some days, myself. It gave me a small understanding of them, and I came to know them, to learn from them and after a time, to let them join with me and to send them off at my own command. This was all in the first fifty years after leaving Ganges. I held no real skill for magic, though I learned some, for my own defense. There were wars, in that time, and twice the brothers were attacked. To protect them, and myself, I learned what I could. I scoured texts on fighting, with weapons and with magic, and tried my best not to fail them. In the end, of course, I did. The third army was led by Ganges, who had moved a thousand miles away by that time. I like to think that even he would have left his old brothers alone, if he’d thought of them at all. His forces didn’t know to do that, so we were all killed. Except for me. I ran, on foot, into the night, being chased by ten thousand men. When daylight came, I stood, too tired to run any longer, and called upon my friends, the devic.”
No one said anything, so the man went on, after a lengthy pause, meant to affect their thoughts.
“That army didn’t survive, though it was far closer to my own demise than I care to admit. It was then, after that time, that I tried to hold Ganges back. I fought his armies and grew in power, both in magic and in ability to fight in my own person. At each turn I was pushed back, Ganges becoming ever more powerful. When he did, I struggled and slaved, finding some way to do the same, myself. This went on for over two hundred years. I held him to the southern continent after that, but it was a stalemate. I had to raise my own army, so I founded Modra, to the east and north. Ganges answered with Barqua, and introduced a love of his kind of magic to them. He claims to be a master of all forms of magic, but that isn’t strictly the truth. He is powerful, but his weakness is in the use of others power. Blood magic. I focused on other things. Skill and personal ability. Memory and practice. It is slower, but more reliable, over time. After all, great works are rare things, and lives are precious. Too much so to waste on tricks or to impress the masses.”
That was a thing that everyone there agreed with, of course. The kind of thing that generally didn’t have to be said. Except, that, Anders knew, part of him didn’t truly feel that way at all. Rather than mention that part of things, he waited, hoping to avoid the truth. His truth, at least.
Old Farad let his head play from side to side, in the way of a historian, thinking.
“There were wars, of course. The entire south was taken and our old home nearly destroyed and turned into a desert, over the course of a hundred and fifty years. Eventually, desperately, we pushed him back and held him, and his people, in place there. After a while, the wars stopped and Ganges didn’t seek to conquer. I had figured that wouldn’t last forever, and was correct. I moved then, out of that land, and headed to the great places to the east and north for a long time. I think it must have been over a hundred years. That, traveling by ocean was terrifying to me, at first. I learned to swim, before I did anything else, I assure you! While I was gone, Ganges recouped his forces, and came at the entire world, with an army of things called Lerna. They were devastating to behold. Shape changers that could scarcely be defeated in battle. The legends of dragons come from them, or at least some of their numbers.”
Erold frowned then. The old man gave him a pleasant look.
“Hard to believe, I know, but true, none the less! Such beings truly do exist in the world.”
The Prince shook his head.
“I know that they exist, there’s one of them, called Saffron, at my father’s castle. She was set first to help Yanse defeat us, but turned when Anders spoke to her, in her own tongue and then Ganges was there to give her guidance. She seemed fierce, but I didn’t think of dragons, truly, on looking at her.”
The man, Farad, simply closed his eyes.
“That sounds like a very dangerous situation for the people there. Anyway, working carefully, for a long time, I managed to strip his forces from him and convince people of various things to make his life harder. When I established Istlan, I forbade magic of any sort for one hundred years and claimed that whole time that it was of the dark and evil. I did something similar in Modra, which was what Modroc was called, back then, language shifting as it does, and over in Lidst, to the east over the vast sea. I was the King of Istlan for a while, then left that to my son. I think the line is unbroken? You don’t look much like me, but you wouldn’t after nine hundred years, would you?” He spoke directly to Erold, who tilted his head.
“I wouldn’t imagine so. Anders is also of that line. My brother, Alpert, is his father. There was a small disruption, so he couldn’t marry Anders’ mother. An alliance marriage with Barquea, in fact. Hoatha... That’s Ganges, if I have it right?” He looked at Anders, as if he might be wrong on that, as if it hadn’t been a constant thought for him or something.
“Indeed. Hoatha Eta. Former Sula of Barquea. That... The people there don’t seem evil or bad, in particular. Indeed, they were no worse than any I’ve met.” The idea was troubling, for a moment, until Old Farad simply agreed with him on that point.
“People are, as it turns out, merely people. Even Ganges isn’t... Well, I don’t know. Once, a long time ago, he was my best friend. Possibly more than just that. Now, after all that’s happened, I tend to think of him as a memory, more than anything else. That he’s come here, to my continent, well, he probably doesn’t know that I’m here. I’ve hidden away rather well, for a very long time. He might even assume me dead. I fought him, but we didn’t meet, to speak to one another, after our fight, all that time ago. That, dying, won’t happen easily for me, now.”
He seemed slightly annoyed by that fact, instead of proud of his powers.
Anders nodded.
“Ganges said something similar. That he didn’t fear what those of Istlan could do to him, so came along rather easily. I thought he was pretending to be brave, but he knows far more of magic than I do. I know, that sound simple to manage, what with my whole year and a season of practice, but still, he did some impressive things. I... I’m not certain, but I think he affected the minds of many people, to make them forget about him. It didn’t work on anyone of the King’s line, but...”
That was interesting enough for the old man, who didn’t seem that well aged, to wave at him.
“One moment? I should seek to research that. Allow me to...” He left the room, which, after about two minutes caused a low roar to enter into being. A growling that sounded bestial, but which faded before the man came back into the room.
“I asked some of my friends to look into that for us. It will take some time, since I asked for the entire world to be checked. Hours, at least. Now, where were we? Ah, yes...Anyone of the King’s line? That won’t be true, of course. Ganges probably spared anyone of your line, not realizing that it would impact me that way. To affect even a thousand or two thousand people should have nearly killed him, unless he had an outside source of power at the time.”
“No? My mother... She would be linked to me, wouldn’t she?”
The other man grinned then and shrugged.
“Are you certain she can’t recall things correctly?”
The answer to that was, clearly, no. Not without more research on his part.
Anders sighed. Then changed the subject a bit.
“Tens of thousands, dead in battle could potentially power such a spell, correct? At my hand, not his. Yanse declared war on us, so I...” He stopped then, looking away. Not wanting this particular man to know of the dark things he’d done.
Prince Erold spoke then, not seeming defensive or angry.
“We’re normally weak in battle, due to a lack of magic. Anders learned enough to defeat the best Yanse had to offer that way. Many died. The best guess is that half their army perished, with about sixty percent of those being credited to Anders directly. They simply fell to us, in our last campaign. I was there as well, as a war mage, as were several others. Princess Salina, the apprentice Great One of Barquea, two servants from Istlan, who proved themselves brave and mighty as well. Daren Willet and Jeld.” He stopped then and shook his head. “The thing there is that Hoatha Eta and Depak Eta both came along, providing support for us. They both offered to fight our battles for us, but Anders wouldn’t allow it. Seeking to protect them, I think?”
After stopping for several moments to think, he let his head sag to the side.
“There’s some truth in that. Mainly it was about showing that we had magic of our own, so that when they leave, we don’t appear weak again. Plus, both of them were in a war recently, with the Modroc. They won each battle, and Daren and myself created a river between the two lands, to slow down easy attack. They called things off after that, without much death being needed. Those fallen in battle seemed to weight most heavily on Depak.”
Farad looked worried then.
“But not Ganges?”
“I don’t know. He came along with us, and clearly paid attention to things, never shirking from a task, even teaching us new things, from time to time, but... He wasn’t as he once was.” Which could mean anything.
The man regarded both of them, closely for several moments. It was a probing thing, so intense that it almost held physical weight. As if it was possible to feel the drag of his gaze over the body, in some unknown manner.
“How about the rest of you? Did the weight of those deaths affect you two?”
Erold nodded, and seemed troubled.
“I’m haunted, in the night, by what I’ve done. A weakness, I’m certain. I see the faces of the men I killed, hanging in front of me, terror on their lips as they screamed and came at me. I wake most nights, soaked in sweat. Thankfully I’ve learned to handle that with magic, or people would think me to have taken to wetting my sheets, it’s so bad at times.”
That was a new thing to Anders, but he didn’t tease the Prince over it.
Instead, he spread his hands.
“I’m not that way, myself. I think it’s the more normal, better thing to have such dreams and thoughts. Killing shouldn’t be easy. For me it is. It seems that those who come from the crystals are like that. They have to be strong in magic and of a certain lack of humanity, by their nature. The kind who kill easily and often don’t feel fear as much as others?”
The old, real, version of Farad made a soft, low sound.
“They also have to be of the line of the person copied. I don’t know if Ganges ever caught on to that one. I didn’t let that out, since I never wanted fifty versions of him coming for me, to tell the truth. Even if he can’t kill me, I have friends and family living here. As I said, half of the people in Ferlith are related to me, in some way or another.”
He didn’t move for a long time, holding absolutely still. Anders, after a while, understood what had taken place. A faint green glow, a devic, was hovering by the white-haired man’s right ear. After a while it flited away, so fast that Anders couldn’t figure out where it had gone.
The fellow made a face.
“Yanse and Istlan both have no memory of Ganges, a spell preventing it. That does speak of a high, powerful, magic being used.”
Over the next hour the conversation ground to a halt, since green, blue and even red glowing beings kept entering the room, to speak to Farad. One of them tried to speak to Anders, by mistake, which was interesting, but hard for him to hear.
It was in Celdric, an ancient language that he had to fight to understand, barely recalling it, as well as being faint.
“In the north and east, over much water, there is a land, with the magic refusing... Ganges the Terrible, biter of worlds... Not allowed.”
Biter of worlds didn’t sound correct, but he understood the basic idea. They all did. Farad smiled at him after that.
“You understood all that? Excellent. Everyone, every person with a good mind, can learn all forms of magic. Working with devic as well as using personal energies to affect the world.”
Since there was nothing in the room with them again, the friends of the old man not staying to visit after delivering their messages, seeming shy instead of mysterious, flew away instantly. So he spoke of another topic.
“What about those who are resistant to magic? That seems to be a form of magic itself. Have you learned to work with that as well?”
The man froze again, then tilted his head.
“No? What do you mean? I know that some people have little magic, and are harder to harm with it, but that seems to be similar to animals. I have taught some such people to use magic and work with devic, however. They simply don’t have much by way of such ability.”
He shook his head, willing to argue the point, even if the other man was many years his senior.
“No, think... They weaken the effect of magic. Animals do that as well, but they aren’t affected like a rock or tree, they actually dampen such things. Only while alive. That seems to indicate it’s another magical talent. I haven’t studied it in people much, but it could be useful, if learned. A shield of sorts, without need of specific spells or devic to provide for you. Perhaps even made stronger, with practice or tricks being used?”
The other man snorted then and slapped his knee, smiling.
“Well! I hadn’t ever thought of that at all. I have seen those impacts, as well, so it isn’t just you seeing things that I haven’t. Very good! It’s rare now that I get to learn of a new idea. We need to test this. How do we go about that, do you think?”
That it turned out, wasn’t that difficult, to start with. First they needed to find volunteers with that sort of ability or trait, and then gently press them with magic, while observing what was going on, both with eyes and magic.
“Then, if we can find what’s going on, we can try different things until something in what happens changes. It might take a long while, of course.” Anders was thinking that it would be a good project to work on back at the college, but Old Farad simply went to his own door and started yelling. In Istlan, even if it wasn’t the language there.
“Vogal! Does anyone know where Vogal is? I could use his aid, if he wishes to give it today?”
There was no call sent up, but a man ran around the corner, his red hair and blue eyes reminding Anders of Page Walden, for some reason. The face was different enough, being strong looking and hard. The rest of him was as well. The man also had a rather sharp looking sword in his hand, and seemed ready to kill whoever was menacing Grandfather Snow.
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.