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One thing that Anders learned about Farad Ibn Istel, the original one, was that the man, once an idea caught his attention, didn’t like to let go of it at all. It was, in fact, only begrudgingly that he allowed them to sleep that night, instead of going over how to improve the new tricks they’d discovered. When Vogal simply left for the day, seeking his evening meal, Farad gave them a wistful expression.
“Ah, yes, food! I suppose we should eat, and probably rest, before continuing?” He gave them a hopeful expression, as if expecting them both to leave then, possibly in annoyance, instead of seeking for the new idea that was before them.
Prince Erold grinned, his tired face still seeming cheery, if a bit puffy.
“Those both sound like good ideas. We have some food, taken from hunting and gathering on the trail, so we won’t try the goodwill of your people or yourself, Sir.”
The words were waved at, which meant little to Anders. It was a thing he did, but seeing it done by someone else suddenly made him realized how unhelpful it truly was. He understood the man was indicating what had been said, but not his opinion on the topic.
Not until he spoke.
“It’s no hardship at all. This city is aided by our friends the devic and never wants for anything, due to that. Rarely. A few of the young men have to struggle to find women, I hear. That’s always been an issue in life, however and the devic won’t really aid with that. They can, of course but it doesn’t go well, when they do.” The man was being playful, but allowed Anders to run and get the stored meat they had, which was frozen, and the greens and roots he’d collected from the trail, as well as some berries from earlier in the day.
Then the older version of Farad did something that seemed off, and prepared it all. He used honey, sugar, cream and fine flours of two types, to create a wonderful pastry that seemed to melt in the mouth, with a flaked, fried and highly spiced meat filling. It was a thing that Anders had never seen the likes of before, but which, when eaten, impressed even Prince Erold.
Anders, knowing what kind of cooking the man had learned in his first life, sighed.
“You know, I’ve had some lessons in cooking and couldn’t match what you did here. I’m not certain that the Master of King Mathias’s kitchen could have, to be truthful.”
The white-haired man smiled then, taking the words as the praise they were supposed to be.
“One of the positive things about living a very long time... You have a chance to learn a great many things. Now, Anders, Erold... You both can repeat what Vogal was doing already, correct?”
They hadn’t tried it, but Anders screwed up his face and started to nod.
“I don’t know to what level, but I felt what he was doing, creating a sense of magical flow, inside of himself, circulating, instead of moving outward? You caught that as well, Erold?”
“I did... I don’t know if that means I can do the same thing, at all. We can try it? I’m not tired enough for sleep yet. We need light in here, if we’re going to work into the night.” He called a simple golden glow into being, at the ceiling, high above their heads. There were windows, along one wall, the rest of dwelling being inside the stone of the mountain, carved out in some smooth and professional seeming fashion.
It wasn’t truly dark as of yet, but Farad smiled at the effort. That or the idea that the Prince of Istlan wanted to keep going.
Anders, for his part of things focused on capturing the feeling that would be needed. It didn’t come easily, and for the first two hours nothing much seemed to be happening. When he was about to give up and call it a night, tired of being pushed backwards by Erold, Farad tossed up his right hand.
“There! You did it. Try it again?”
Erold, clearly bored, hit Anders again, then, five times in a row. Every blow came with the sense of what he was doing being stronger than the last. Even as each hit with less force as far as what could be felt. It was enough that Anders pressed himself into gasping and a bit of burning pain inside the nerves that ran along his arms and legs. Still, trying to make something happen, Erold increased his own power, until Anders was shaking and writhing under the assault.
He wasn’t being impacted by the magic though, simply resisting it. Not perfectly, since it truly seemed to be a brutal thing, but well enough that he was able to extend the limits of the effect outward, until it wrapped over Erold, and the room was plunged into darkness.
Which lasted until the Prince stepped back, about five paces away. Then the light came back into being, hovering above them like a dim sun.
There was a bit of clapping from Farad, who was standing well back and watching.
“May I try it, do you think? I was able to follow that. It was instructive, I believe.”
Anders figured that the man would instantly be able to match, or even defeat what he’d done, being so old and skilled, but it took nearly as long for him to manage it and again as long for Erold to do the same. In the end, Anders laughed a bit.
“So, after half a night of practice, we’re as good as Vogal was in half the time. Still, learning isn’t about how long it takes to grasp the subject, it’s about what you have added in the end. This is a good start. I’m not certain how useful it will be, in battle, since a good shield will stop a sword or arrow, and this won’t, but...”
There was a surprised look from Farad, and a shake of the elder’s head.
“Don’t you see? If we can undo magic in an area, then even those of amazing powers will be vulnerable to us, inside that space. True, then we will have to use force of arms or words to affect things, but knowing that ahead of time might aid us greatly. With this one method, we can change the field of battle forever. Ganges and... You called the woman from the crystal... Rothina?” The man locked eyes with him then and held it.
“Yes. Rothina.”
“Neither of them will be prepared to act without their magical talents, I have to think. I have such training, but unless they found a need for physical prowess over the centuries, unknown to me, Ganges simply won’t have gone in that direction. He always relied on magic. Being weaker than he that way, refusing to harvest the lives of others, I was forced to rely on everything I could find. Strength of arms, skill and guile. Over time, I pressed myself to nearly match Ganges in personal magic. It was neither easy or pleasant, but I did it. It was never enough to truly face him, however.” There was a closed eyed grimace then.
After a long time, the man spoke, seeming grave.
“This isn’t enough, of course. We have to find the edges of this power, and to press it in a thousand ways, to make certain it is not easily going to be gotten around. It will take work and study. We leave for Istlan in some days?”
Anders noticed the use of the word we, but nodded.
“We do. I don’t mean to be upsetting or untrusting, since you are, in part, me, but would you be willing to allow me to read your mind, do you think? Before I take you to the land of my people, who might be endangered if I arrive with a threat. Another one. I know that’s insulting and...”
The man simply smiled, and opened his hands.
“Of course. We should have done that before. Please? I will do that with you as well, at the same time, if you allow?”
Anders focused, nodding slowly to indicate that was well with him, dropping into a trance, expecting to have to battle to make sense of what he was seeing. Instead, he merely stepped into the other man’s very life, starting at the point where the crystal was taken from his forehead. The last thing that Anders recalled from his first life.
Then, in what felt like fifteen hundred years, Anders lived everything that the other man had experienced. Much of it was dark, but there many good things as well. The love of women, his wives and on occasion concubines, was surprising. Anders had lived with him as he overcame his fear of women, however, and then over the centuries as he learned many things that Anders hadn’t even suspected would exist.
The man had mastered stone carving on a level that no one else ever had, for instance. His ability in magic however, wasn’t as good as what Anders had managed in the last year, on his own. Part of that was due to natural talent of the body he was in, of course.
Farad was incredible in battle, however. Few could match him with a blade or even a stick, that way. With nothing in his hands at all he’d been forced to fight armed men, more than once. Each time he was the victor.
Much of his life wasn’t, as it had sounded, spent in fighting Ganges at all. Most of it wasn’t. He simply lived and sought a better life for his people, attempting to find a way to improve the world, without leading directly more than was needed.
Anders was the King of Modra, the Sutha there, and then founded Istlan, as well as Yanse, later, and then Ferlith. There was also a time where the man had lived in other lands, for over a hundred years. Places so far away that Anders had to learn new languages to have a name for some of them.
That, placing all of what was happening into his mind was both simple and an exhausting task. He did it, as if it were an incredibly long book, that taught him almost everything. It wasn’t until the last moments that he began to worry a bit.
After all, if the life of a hundred-year-old man mingled with a twelve-year-old was overwhelming, then the true life of Farad Ibn Istel would swamp him totally. Except that, when he opened his eyes, Anders still felt like himself. He recalled it all, and had vast hallways of memory filled with information and even new books that had been placed there. Thousands of them, in fact.
It was as if he’d lived it, except that it was different than that. Thankfully.
“I have it all. Your entire life. That was... Interesting. It’s a memory, but... I’ve touched minds before, and it was never like that.”
Farad smiled.
“It was the same for me, it seems. Perhaps due to a deeper connection between us? We were, once, in part, the same man. Perhaps it is even part of how the crystals of memory work, unknown to either of us? A way to get both of us to the same place, on meeting? I do not truly know, but it was impressive, learning of what you have endured and mastered, in such a short time, Anders.”
Erold looked at him strangely then, and tilted his head.
“That was no more than a few moments... Farad is what he seems?”
Blinking, Anders closed his eyes again, and then took a deep breath.
“Yes. Not a perfect being, but more so than anyone either of us have ever met, as far as being good and kind. More so than me, at any rate. I think I have a copy of everything he’s ever seen, done or read. All the skills, as well. I can make that pastry now, I think?” He smiled, since that had truly been worth the learning. Many of the things from the other man had been.
Original Farad bowed his head a bit.
“So, we can go and see if we can dissuade Ganges from harming people for his own aggrandizement? If we can master the new skill well enough, that is. Trust me, there is very little use in fighting if it’s not needed. I don’t think that we can simply talk Ganges out of his plans, but...” He sighed. “I can’t forgive him what he did, but I have lived a very long time. There comes a point where you start to understand that nothing is truly forever. That a man, or woman, might do an evil thing one time and then be truly good for the rest of their days. With one like Ganges, who will not easily perish, might he not change enough to be worthy of forgiveness, eventually?”
Anders understood the thought, and even the desire behind it. Farad had fought his old friend, and thwarted him many times, attempting to protect others. There had never been even a single day, or even one dark moment where the man had hated Ganges. Even when he’d hated himself, for having failed his friend in the first place.
Instead of answering, not certain what the correct idea was, having seen the millions of dead that Ganges had stood upon over the ages, and the smaller, but still real mountain of corpses that Farad had climbed upon to tear his old friend down, Anders found a bed. The place they were in had a dozen rooms, and while the beds were a bit like sleeping on the ground as far as comfort went, he was so tired that he drifted off, as soon as he’d barred the door.
In the night, several times, his friends came to him, whispering in his ear, reporting what they’d found in those far-off lands they’d been asked to investigate. He thanked them, each time and placed what was told to him into the hall of memory, drifting back to sleep. It was a little annoying, that they were mistaking him for the other Farad, but it also made sense. It wasn’t as if they could see him as a small boy. They perceived the world, but without eyes or ears. Even when they spoke, it was different than true speech. More of a transfer of knowledge, as if reading a mind, instead.
It was fascinating, knowing what they were now. That they weren’t simply former people, but also the oldest gods, the spirits of places and times, as well as people long forgotten by even the histories that he held inside of himself. Only four of them made the mistake of thinking he was Farad though, so he got enough sleep, even if it was a bit interrupted at certain points. In the morning, rising at about the same time as the others, before the first real light of day, Anders reported what he’d been told.
“The land of Seraph is free of the spell of Ganges, but also has never dealt with him that they know of. Mithra, to the east and south cannot recall that he still lives at all, nearly as strongly as Istlan or Yanse are finding themselves affected. The rest of the world seems to be clear, after that.”
Farad didn’t ask how he’d learned of such things, already knowing, it seemed.
“I heard much the same. There are pockets of places affected in other lands, but nothing like what is happening here. Good then. If he’d learned to impact the entire world in such a fashion, we probably would have already lost. We need to go over the new skills, in a stronger fashion, as soon as we can. We should include Vogal, as well? He’s a capable fighter, but has always felt the lack of a personal magic rather keenly. Having a skill that can remove that from others might leave him feeling better about himself.”
That seemed to be a mere kindness, until, after their first meal, which Anders made for them, being light biscuits fried in oil, and a sauce made of fruit sweetened eggs, over fried rabbit strips, done well enough that Erold was watching him for betrayal. When that was consumed and Vogal called for, the real work began.
At first it didn’t seem to be that different than what they’d done the day before. Erold pushed at the man, who instantly stopped him from doing any kind of magic. Then, they fought, with Vogal easily disarming Erold, over and again, as if he were working with an untrained child. Then Anders was added, instructed to attempt as hard as he could, to overpower the man, using magic. He did manage it, several times, by fleeing to a great enough distance that he could cast spells again. Then, seeing that the light, the night before had worked, Anders impacted the world around the fighter, using that to impact him, instead of direct forces.
After the first few iterations of that, the other man took to simply following him, not allowing that trick to work, beating him soundly, the whole time.
Finally, all three of them, including Farad, tried to overpower the man’s skills. It took everything they had but they managed it, if only barely. Even at that, sending blasts of force and light at the fighter, Farad had to jump in and duel the man personally, to overcome him.
Anders got the idea.
“So, this is about the limit, isn’t it? As far as we know, Vogal here, at this moment, is the most powerful man in the world with this particular skill. What if we had several using this, though? Is there anyone we can ask to aid us, using magic against us, as we try to stop them, do you think?”
He asked Farad, feeling closer to him than anyone else in the world at the moment, but Vogal was the one who answered, using the same language that Anders had. Ferlith, which he’d learned the day before, reliving the life of the man that he’d once been. It was disconcerting, but he recognized who came, when called for.
A dozen men and women, all of whom smiled, and seemed both tall and powerfully built.
Not explaining the plan, Vogal simply pointed at them, including Grandfather Snow, and yelled in his own language.
“Get them! Use magic. Everything you have!”
They nearly died then, of course. Cascades of power ripped at the very fabric of the world, and Anders writhed in pain, having to move closer to Erold and then Farad, to form a bullwark of protection. They couldn’t answer with magic at all, when using their new skills and the devic, if they had come to watch, were invisible to him. Still, after a time those attacking them weakened, gasping and finally stopping in their efforts.
The whole thing had hurt, but Anders answered with a blast of light, which touched each of them in turn. Simply to test and see if he had any power left. The answer was that he did, having all of it, as far as he could tell. He felt tired, but not drained at all, in that fashion.
Seeing his friend doing that, Erold did the same, with Farad matching them, nearly, after some moments. His art of casting such was simply slower than what Anders was used to using. No one was harmed, since it was only a light, but the idea made sense to them all, even the now exhausted people.
Who, rather pleasantly, applauded them, as if a fancy trick had been performed for their amusement.
One of them, a tall woman, in a blue gown, with a face that seemed normal, if made more attractive due to her thick lipped smile, moved in and gave Farad a hug.
“That was different! Did the devic protect you all?”
Old Farad shook his head at the words but smiled.
“No, this is a new form of magic. One that Anders here and Vogal worked out, in fact. It uses a natural talent that I wasn’t aware of, to shut down magic, in a given area. It takes great effort and is not perfect, but could be of aid, if war comes this way. All of you should learn it, of course. This only took the three of us a day to reach this point and Vogal learned it faster than that. So, no being lazy, you lot! I’m going to go away, for some years. I’ve taken a position in Istlan, teaching magic and working with the devic, at their new grand college there. The road has been improved between here and there, so you can all come and visit, next spring, if you get a chance?”
The woman nodded, her face a bit too calm.
“We noticed the new road heading in that direction. It’s very nice. There are places to stay along the route as well? Miken and Carl both rode down it for a way, and noticed that new structures had been constructed. At least three of them.”
Anders spoke then, using the same language that the rest of them were. A thing learned from having invented it, in part. Others had helped with that, and he understood that Anders hadn’t been there at the time, but it felt as if it had happened to him, as much as anything ever had.
“You have that kind of thing all the way to the school there in Istlan. Now, not to be mean, but we should investigate this more and...”
The entire crowd stirred at his words, then, almost instantly, with only the slightest hesitation, tried to hit them again with various magics. This time, after the initial flailing to protect himself, in which he nearly died, he was certain, Anders moved in toward the dozen people and did battle with them. That part was very strange to him, of course.
He’d practice fighting, and was growing in skill a bit, as well as knowing all that Farad did on that topic now. That didn’t change his size or shape, which threw him off, however. Also, it was clear that, having lived the life of Farad in the way he did hadn’t gifted him with any greater strength. The devic had added an inhuman level of such things to Farad, over the ages. The old man was truly more powerful than ten strong men could ever hope to be.
Anders was about as powerful as one fairly active boy. It meant he wasn’t nearly as gifted at fighting, when that actually started. Interestingly, all of the others had to pick which they were doing, fighting with hands and feet, or using magic. The instant they all started using physical skills, Anders dropped what he was doing and sent them all flying backwards with a single palm pressed forward.
Stumbling at least. They were helping him after all, and while it was hard, they weren’t his enemies. He’d known some of them their entire lives. Bethan, the thick lipped woman, had literally been delivered by Farad, for instance. Anders recalled the scent of it, and the feeling of the dampness on his hands.
He also recalled teaching her magic. A different form of it than what Anders knew. A slower thing, that left the woman with only three spells ready to call on in a fight. She had to keep those ready to go, casting them for ten minutes each, every morning.
It was clear that she’d only bothered with one of them that day, as well.
Anders, however, could use thousands of different combinations, so set people to floating in the airs, spinning gently, hit them with blasts of cold water from nowhere and sent rings of fire at them, which were only illusion, since burning his helpers seemed pretty rude. Especially if he wanted them to aid him in that fashion again.
Prince Erold didn’t match him in speed or the number of spells, but when they’d subdued the others, with Vogal standing back and watching the whole thing, the tall blond fellow called a halt to it all.
“Stop! That was fine, I suppose. Clearly our magic types need to go to the school in Istlan! Go and rest everyone. We’ll meet back here... Tomorrow at the same time? Be better prepared.”
At least half the people made rude hand gestures at the man, for his words. Even if that would probably be very helpful. They had to press things to a greater level, if they were going to take on Ganges. Rothina would be even harder, being more powerful. That was what he’d heard, at least.
The rest of the day was spent writing, and in discussion, working out ideas as to how to best use the new talents they were developing. It wasn’t going that well, he thought. Farad, looking a bit tired, seemed to think otherwise, though.
“We probably won’t have to fight with Ganges, directly. Clearly, he won’t wish to harm you, Anders. I don’t know his plan there, but he seems different, the way you have spoken of him. Like he used to be, before. This Rothina, Lady Martya... She speaks of her plans openly to you?”
He shrugged, then cleaned the metal nib of his pen on a small piece of fine cloth he had for that purpose.
“She’s spoken of it, once. I don’t know if that’s part of her plan, or... Truly, I didn’t ask her to leave off, or to explain herself, either. I just assumed that it was a bad thing.”
Instead of assuring him that he was correct, which Anders didn’t see happening at all, the old man tapped the table they were sitting at, several times.
“We should do that? There is little need to start a battle, if words will work as well. It would be a mistake to draw a sword first thing, when a few hugs and kind words will repair old damages. Again, the problem there in this is mine, not theirs. I’m the one who cannot forgive. Failing in that, if they are trying to change would be foolish. I have to work on that. It’s difficult, to forgive, after everything.”
The words were in Istlan, so that Prince Erold could understand them as well. The younger man took his time to think, brushed at his short blond hair and didn’t speak until all eyes were on him.
“We should send some messages, today. Father needs to know of all of this, as well as several others. The last he heard from me, I mentioned only that Ganges had warped the minds of many, possibly the whole world. That, if nothing else, needs to be updated. It’s a rather strong statement, insisting on making so many forget you, isn’t it?”
The words got a rather ungentle snort from Anders.
“True! What is that statement informing us of, however? Is this an evil man hiding his new plans to harm us all behind magic, or a good man simply attempting to start a new life, unhampered by what has come before? For that matter, did he do it himself, or did Rothina? People can’t recall Ganges... That means that they can’t recall that she has that same man in her mind as well, most likely.”
Sighing, Farad closed his eyes. It seemed to be him going into a trance, and possibly was, but a few moments later several devic entered into the room. Two red and one pale blue one. He spoke to them, in a gentle voice, using the language of Ferlith.
“Friends! I would ask for your aid, if that is allowed? There is, in the land of Istlan, at the castle there, a man and woman, both with the same mind, in part. Ganges. Could you go and watch them, for a time, keeping yourselves hidden from both eye and magic? I don’t know what might be done, but take care. Leave if danger to you is presented, please? We need information, but not at too great a risk to you.”
Anders nodded then, understanding the idea. The devic weren’t dark riders, or at least these particular ones weren’t. They weren’t coerced and punished into working, or even begged to do a task. They were simply asked, as one would a friend. At the same time, Farad had always considered them as such, which meant that a great many of them preferred his company to that of others. They lived there, in Ferlith, guarded it and provided much for the people there, because it was their home as well. These were their people, and they were treated as equals there.
Even having seen all of what Farad had in life, the idea was so different than what he’d encountered before with the dark entities that it seemed almost as if there must be different sorts of such things. As if these beings were the small or weak ones. That wasn’t true, of course. They simply weren’t trying to burn them to death with gouts of fire, or to shake the mountain down.
Which, he realized, was just polite. He wasn’t doing that either and the truth was he could have made a valiant attempt at doing either one of them. When they left, he murmured a bit.
“I hope they’re alright? We should see to those messages now and to making ready to travel, in a few days. We’ll need to go to Duchy Lister first. The Duke there is a friend of mine. There are also some women we need to take back with us to the castle, and isn’t really a detour at all.”
Farad didn’t balk at the idea of women being with them. Then, he wouldn’t. The man loved women, as it turned out. He’d gotten a slow start that way in life, but over time had become quite fond of them, as a collective. Anders, the boy, was fine with them as well. The Farad inside of him... Well, he had, after a fashion, been changed a lot, learning from what the real Farad had done. It had left him with new skills, and while he wasn’t ten times stronger than a physically powerful man, he could see the use of smiling at a woman and not being afraid of them if they were alone.
It wouldn’t be an instant repair, but he had the tools now, to see to his future that way. That only left two potential problems for the time being. Ganges and Rothina. He readied himself to fight them, if he had to. Even to spend the rest of his life doing so, if it was required of him.
Then, because he didn’t want to be a monster, he also worked out another plan. One that used words, and he hoped, some common sense, instead of anger at what had gone before, when he was not there. He understood how Farad felt, having seen the sacrifices used to save him, and knowing that the price wasn’t worth the goal at all.
It had happened a very long time before, however.
He wondered, for a moment, if what was needed was for Farad to forgive, though. They had all lived for so long that it was fair to say they simply weren’t the same people, any longer. Even Anders had, in the last year and a half, as odd as that sounded to him.
No, he had to wonder if Ganges and Rothina could both forgive themselves. That, if they could manage it, would probably be the biggest factor in what was about to happen between them all.