Land of Storms

Chapter 2

         The sun shone brightly into Corson’s window and across his face. His head pounded like he was being attacked with a sledge hammer. “I must have hit my head pretty hard for it to hurt this bad when I regained consciousness.” He muttered to himself as he slowly rolled over and hugged his pillow, shutting his eyes tighter against the light that was now at his back. A pillow. He was hugging a pillow. There were no pillows in caves. He was in a bed. The previous night’s memories came flooding back and he shot upright, his head exploding in searing pain. He looked himself over, grimacing at the agonizing headache. He was in a baggy, off-white tunic with fitted brown leggings or whatever type of pants he had on. He looked around, and for the first time, took in his surroundings. He was in a stone room with drapes pulled back. Apparently, his host was not a fan of having his guests sleep in. The drapes were green and there was a large, wooden wardrobe in one corner, a bedside table next to him on his right, and a wash basin on a table by the door. He glanced out the window and then stared more intently. Beyond the walls of the castle there stood the most majestic and incredible mountains he had ever seen. The snow caps looked scarlett and the slopes were a dark gray, dotted with emerald trees and bushes that grew thicker as the altitude decreased. He scratched his head, smoothed down his short military haircut, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Corson expected the stone floor to be cold and it probably was. What met his bare feet was a plush green rug with the face of an ugly something on it. He peered at it in confusion for a moment before turning his attention to the chair at the end of his bed. His armor had been stacked on it, the white metal seeming to sparkle with fire in the morning light. Walking over to the wash basin, he splashed the cool water on his face and left his hands in the bowl, thinking. Then he moved his hands to the rim and dunked his head in. The man blew bubbles out his mouth while he left his face submerged a moment longer. When he lifted his head out, he felt more refreshed than he had anticipated. Corson picked up the towel that was left folded on the table and patted his face dry. Then he looked around and found his boots with socks next to the small table he stood at. Pulling them on, he opened his door and yelled in surprise, punching a startled guard in the face.

         The guard dropped to the floor in a heap, his startled reaction cut short but the blow to the face. Crap. I killed him. The soldier kneeled down and felt for the man’s pulse. Thank God. He’s not dead. He let out a breath and dragged his hand down his face as a servant rushed around the corner in response to his yell. The boy was no more than fifteen and stopped short at the sight of the knight kneeling beside the slumped guard, his fingers on the man’s neck. I am so screwed, Corson thought, more disappointed than anything.

         “Uh… S…sir Corson… the king has requested your presence in the throne room. I was sent to bring you to him.”

         The soldier rose and straightened out his rumpled shirt self-consciously. “Please get this man some medical attention. A physician or something.”

         The servant nodded uncomfortably and led the man to the throne room, stopping to order some help for the downed guard.

         Within minutes, they had descended a set of stone stairs and stood in front of the king’s throne room. The servant knocked on the large doors and waited. They swung open and the boy gestured for Corson to enter. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he entered. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Now that he was convinced that this was not a dream or a hallucination, his emotions were all over the place. The strongest emotion was dread. He was in a land he knew nothing about, fighting magic storms with no discernible source and if he died here, that’s it for him. He would be dead and gone. To make matters of survival less certain, he had just dropped one of the king’s guards because he was startled. What a bright and sunny hell hole this is, he thought darkly to himself. He stopped walking about six feet from the throne of the king and knelt, bowing his head as the king had done before him the day prior.

         “Rise, Sir Corson.” The monarch’s voice was cold compared to last night. “I have been informed that you attacked one of my guards unprovoked this morning. That is a severe crime indeed and I would hope you had a solid reason.”

         Corson stood and lowered his head in submission. “I apologize, my lord. I didn’t know that there was anyone outside my room. When I opened the door and he stepped in the way, I reacted instinctively before I realized he was simply standing watch at my door.”

         The king looked disapprovingly down at the knight. “That is your reason?”

         “Yes, your highness. I haven’t gotten comfortable in this world yet and automatically assumed there could be a threat. Sometimes I rely on my training a little too much.” This was a complete lie and he hoped the king wouldn’t notice. He really just got startled and reacted violently because he did. He was a take action first and ask questions or apologize later type of guy. It was obviously a bad habit.

         The king seemed to consider this a moment before nodding. “It seems I have underestimated how dangerous the land you come from is. You must have had to be alert at all times. I will overlook this incident, but I expect you to adjust quickly as you are in no danger here.” The knight nodded humbly and sent a silent thank you to the heavens. “Goj has returned with Tress.” He motioned for someone at another set of doors.

         The doors opened and in came a middle aged man with a long robe with ornate designs and boots. He wore a light gray cloak and quickly came forward, kneeling before the king and queen before rising again to take in the knight’s appearance. “This is the knight, your highness?” His voice sounded skeptical as he looked Corson in the eyes. “Ah… yes. Yes, it is him. I can see it in his eyes. The magic did bring him here. My theory was correct after all!”

         I could not have heard that right. “Did you say theory? What theory?” His voice had a hard edge to it. He may feel like he was going to die, but the possibility that the prophecy he was told was just a theory or an idea and nothing more cut him deep.

         “Yes, sire. I told his highness that the most probable solution to the magic being unbalanced and sporadically dangerous may be that the magic would bring someone out of seemingly nowhere to restore balance and end the storms.” He chuckled nervously. “I was shocked to find out that my thoughts on the most probable outcome were indeed correct.”

         Corson just stared, speechless. This wizard came up with a good idea and the king took his word as a legitimate prophecy. This was really all just a fluke. He was really useless here. His life was garbage here as it was back home. He refused to accept this. His presence here had to matter. If it was a fluke, he would change that. Somehow, he would make it a prophecy. “I believe it was a prophecy. I am not from your world, so can you give me a brief explanation of how the magic works here?

         The wizard looked to the king for permission and when the monarch nodded, he began. “It goes back to the creation of this land.”

         Many millennia ago, when the Darkness encircled all of the universe there was not but a Voice. That Voice created all things good, and some say all things bad as well. Yet those who remember say the Darkness created evil. Planets were empty and hung lifeless in a black void, awaiting the words that would bring them to life. The Voice gave that, creating all life from its mere presence. Life flourished and abounded and there was peace and prosperity, but the Darkness came and stole the joy and light that filled all of creation. Magic that had been granted by the Voice became harder to wield and more difficult to control. Those who wielded it began to struggle with its use. Violence broke out across the world as people fought to gain dominance over things they could only imagine. Magic was used to rid them of their enemies and people and other creatures sought to gain satisfaction and fulfillment through power and wealth. What once was simply considered the absence of light from the Voice, the Darkness took on many forms. It inhabited men as the very emotions people felt and became some of the people and creatures themselves. This was all in an attempt to defeat the Voice and control the universe as it once had. But what the Darkness thought had been its domain had simply been an allowance from master to servant. The Darkness had served the Voice by shadowing and protecting that which was unready to see the light. But greed and the desire for self indulgence and power led to the Darkness rebelling and demanding the right to cover all of creation. It was thrown down to live life as a shadow in the few places where the light was blocked. Eventually it became the shadow in men’s hearts and the darker, more dangerous and violent tendencies in creatures' instincts. The balance of the world was lost as an eternal war raged between the Voice and the Darkness. Magic that had been innate in all things now had to be learned by the few who knew how to teach it. Even so, creatures born of that magic still roamed the land and a few born of innate magic still rose to try to assist in the rebalancing of nature. They were considered wizards and were greatly revered by the people as direct servants and sons of the Voice. Their suggestions were taken as fact and their ideas seen as prophecy as the hope of man and beast faded and decomposed into chaos and despair.

         “And so, the longer nature remained unbalanced, the more volatile it became. And now our present situation is at hand. The very rain itself kills man and beast alike. You have been sent or brought by this magic, or maybe even the Voice itself, to do what wizards and those who have learned magic have failed to do.”

         Corson listened as this man or wizard or son of some dude’s voice said things. While he did hear what the man said, all he was thinking was, Man, I should have paid better attention in Sunday school. But then another thought struck him suddenly. “Tress, are you implying that perhaps I am from this universe, but was brought to this planet to help by some supernatural being?”

         The older man stopped, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “I suppose you could say that. Other worlds have already been completely overtaken by the darkness. So you being unaware of magic and how it functions is not entirely surprising.”

         Now the soldier was thinking, Forget Sunday school, I should have researched aliens. He continued as if this might have been normal. “So you think I could learn magic or have innate magic?”

         Glancing warily at the king to his left, the wizard nodded slowly. “If indeed you were sent to us by the Voice, then it would only be right to assume you would have the ability to use magic or at the least a strong ability to learn it.”

         Amused and throwing caution to the wind, Corson spread his hands before him. “Where do I start?”

         Tress looked confused. “I don't know, sir Corson. You are supposed to tell us that.”

         And that was the end of the soldier’s excitement. He took a moment to think before glancing at Tress and then the king. “I assume there is a royal library with archives and histories that include the uses or recountings of the people who were born with magic?”

         The king answered, “Yes, sir knight. We have one. Tress can bring you there if you feel the need to look into something. May I ask what you are hoping to find?”

         Furrowing his brows and pinching the bridge of his nose, the young man sighed. “Something. I don’t know. Anything that may be useful. How am I supposed to tell you where to start if I know nothing of your land, its people, or its detailed history? If your wizard doesn’t know anything, then I have to learn it all for myself.”

         The monarch looked, disapprovingly at Tress, his eyes dark and foreboding. The wizard fumbled for words. “Ah… yes… yes, sire. My next thought was to bring him to the library to guide him through the ancient manuscripts of old magic. If he has come from the Voice directly, then the old magic would need to be awakened in him. I cannot access the ancient magics, but certainly this son of the Voice can.”

         The king seemed placated for the time being and nodded, waving his hand for them to be allowed unrestricted access and be given any and all things they may ask for. Corson, on the other hand, was thinking, What a load of crap that was. This guy is just as clueless as I am.

         They walked down hallways until they came to a spiraling staircase that appeared to lead to the top of a tower. Flameless torches lit the way up the steps. The tower was much wider than the stairs, and two thirds of the way up, books began to line the walls. At the top of the tower, the stairs entered an enormously open, glass enclosed room filled with thousands of books. The castles that Corson had seen on TV or heard about in books always seemed to have towers that were just large enough for one small room. This tower was massive all the way up from its base. The top of the tower housed a full library separated by archives, history, and regular reading. He marveled at the size and majesty of the room, his breath catching in his throat. The golden sunlight poured through the windows, bathing the entire library in an otherworld, fiery hue. Some of the windows were made of stained glass and sent dancing colors streaking across the room. Everywhere Corson looked seemed to have his heart nearly stopped in his chest. The indescribable beauty of this tower top library that had windows to overlook the land in which it sat had his words refusing to form on his lips. There was no place on earth that could compare to this sight. It took a long minute for him to recover himself. He saw Tress standing before him, watching him intently, a knowing smile playing across his features.

         The king’s wizard held out his hand, gesturing to the fifteen foot high shelves. “This is the king’s library. Anything you want to know about our land can be found here.”

         “You’re full of crap, you know that?” Corson said when their guide had left them alone. The wizard looked astounded, his mouth hanging open in shocked silence. “You have no idea what you are doing. You don’t think I have ancient magic, and you lied so that the king wouldn’t demand your head for your incompetence.”

         “He cannot execute a wizard. It is against the laws of the land.” He stood, indignant, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

         “But he can have you thrown into the dungeon and then your lie as you know it would end.”

         The other man stuttered. “W… well yes. He could. However, any answers you seek can be found here. If they can be found at all, that is. This kingdom has the greatest libraries in the world.”

         The soldier caught the plurality in his statement. “You said libraries. Not library. This is not the only library?”

         “No, sir Corson. There are six towers and six libraries just like this one. These towers are the most maintained portions of the entire castle in order to protect these pages.”

         “And I thought looking through this library was going to be difficult. Nevermind six of these rooms and stairways,” he muttered to himself. “Well,” he said louder, “Show me how the books are organized, I don’t want to be here the rest of my life.”

         “Of course. If you stayed that long, the magic would destroy itself before you died naturally,” the wizard said more casually than was appropriate for that type of statement.

         “Well that makes me feel better about my chances.” Corson glared at the wizard. “Aren’t you supposed to be old with a long beard?”

         Tress raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

         “Ah, forget about it. Show me the way.”

         Hours passed while Tress showed the newcomer the books and subject sections. Corson perused the shelves, looking from one title to the next. A couple of titles caught his eye, but none really held his attention. He sat on a couch in the middle of the enormous room, putting a pillow over his face and yelling into it. The wizard stood nearby, fidgeting awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to this act of seeming insanity.

         Corson dropped the pillow to the floor and looked at the ceiling. “Tress, how do you even know there are books about ancient magic if you can’t even find them?”

         The older man cleared his throat. “I have seen them, sir. I just cannot recall which library I saw them in.”

         An aggravated groan filled the chamber as the knight lay sprawled on the ornate furniture. “Kill me now, why don’t you?” He stared up at the stone before standing and pacing. His gray eyes scanning the entire room as if the book he needed would suddenly fall from the shelf and land in front of him. He walked from one set of shelves to the next and back again, fuming in mumbled rants about his back luck and drug induced hallucinations or something. He walked past a particular set of shelves, when a large leatherbound book fell to the floor in front of him and lay open. Surprised, he looked up at where it fell from and then picked it up and looked at the title. The Voice and His Ancient Blessings.

         There was absolutely no way the book he needed just fell from the shelf for him to find. The hair on his arms raised as he began to read. There were a few chapters. The Voice and His Subjects, How the Voice Created, the Blessings of the Voice and more. But the one that caught his attention the most was the one titled Ancient Wisdom on Blessings and Abilities. He flipped through the pages to find the right chapter and sat on the stone floor to read it.

         Tress had stood for an hour after Corson sat down to read, assuming he would jump back up and continue his complaining or muttering, or maybe throw the book like a child in a tantrum. Yet, when nothing happened, he relaxed slightly and moved to sit on the couch. It had been three hours now and the knight had read through a few chapters.

         Then suddenly, he was startled by a yell. “That’s it! It is a prophecy! Every five millenia, the Voice brings someone who can balance the magic of the land and push back the Darkness!” A big smile was on Corson’s face.

         Tress jumped up excitedly. “So where do we start?”

         The younger man faltered, his exhilaration fading quickly. “I have no idea. It took me this long just to figure this out. I read a bunch of magic stuff, but I don’t know what any of it means.”

         The wizard came over and sat down with him on the floor, looking through the pages. “Ah yes. Here.” He pointed. “This means that the one the Voice brings is filled with an unnaturally strong innate magic. You should be able to use it just by thinking.”

         Deflated, Corson cursed under his breath and then apologized. “Well, that’s unfortunate,” he said dejectedly.

         Tress kept reading and then spoke again. “Sir, do you tend towards any type of lifestyle, relationships, jobs or things such as those?”

         The young man was just now realizing that all of his lies were going to come undone with no one to help him conceal them. He looked guilty before he even thought of how to respond. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he said, “What would you say if I had no job, no skills, no money, and no status?”

         Tress gaped. “That cannot be so! The Voice chose you!”

         “Well,” the man started, “I guess technically that’s true. But also, I was kicked out of the military, am homeless, and I’m broke with no job. I’m good at pushups and rock climbing.”

         The wizard stared in horror. He did not understand half of what Corson said, but what he did know is that this knight of the Voice was probably the most useless human he had ever met. “Are you saying, sir, Corson, that we are doomed to die by the imbalance of magic and nature?”

         Corson frowned and tried to come up with an argument. He thought he was just a moron, but this wizard made it sound like he was cursing them to a horrific death as a planet. “Uh… no. No, I wasn't saying that at all.” He ground his teeth. That is in fact exactly what he was saying. “I am saying that I just haven’t figured out what in the world my magic would be.”

         “You are actually a complete imbecile, are you not, sir knight?” Tress’ expression was less than amused.

         “You know what? Shut up. You’re a fraud and I’m a fraud. If you cover for me, I’ll cover for you and maybe we’ll both figure out how to survive this apocalypse.” The soldier’s mood was soured by the conversation. And he expected the wizard to report him to his lord.

         He was pleasantly surprised when Tress responded with, “I am no fraud, sire. I am just somewhat clueless. But if you will pretend I am not, I will do my best to support you.”

         Great, I’m an idiot and he’s clueless. We are definitely gonna die, Corson thought. But he nodded solemnly. “So, Tress… what do I do? I have no magic ability and it looks like we have no way to give me any.”

         “I never said that,” the clueless man replied. “I can still teach you to use some form of magic and maybe it will awaken something you already have.”

         With a deep, resigned sigh, the soldier looked around, running a hand through his hair. “Sure. Let’s go.” He looked back at the book, feeling like it would come in handy later. “Oh. Can I take any books out of here?”

         The older man thought for a moment. “No, but we can leave them on the table by the couch. No one will touch them.” With that, they left the room and nearly missed dinner. The king, queen, their guards, and servants occupied the dining hall when the wizard and Corson entered. They hurried to kneel before the king and lowered their heads. “Your majesty,” They both echoed.

         The king nodded his head and told them to rise and eat. The table was full of food already and everyone had already begun eating. “Thank you, your highness,” came Tress’ nervous voice.

         They sat and began to eat. The king studied Corson for a few minutes before speaking again. “Have you found any useful information in the first library, sir knight?”

         Looking up, the soldier steeled his resolve for the lies he was about to tell. “Yes, my king. We found stuff about old magic from the Voice. Tress said he’s gonna teach me and find a way to awaken the magic that I have been gifted. We’re going to continue to go to the libraries and look through books until my training is done and I am equipped to go out into the world alone. We both agreed it would be best if I knew as much about your lands as possible before I leave your great hall, your majesty. All of this is of course subject to change depending on whether you agree.” He inclined his head respectfully and took a sip of water.

         The queen was the one who spoke. “That sounds wonderful. I am delighted to hear that Tress and you have made such a solid plan to deal with the crisis. I am sure you will love learning about our cultures. I look forward to seeing your progress, sir Corson.”

         Swallowing hard, he gave a small smile and nodded. “Thank you.” After that, he ate in silence, finishing his food as quickly as he could and requesting permission to retire for the night. He returned to his room and shut his door. Walking to his bed, he ran both hands through his hair. “What am I doing here?” he asked himself in a low, soft voice. “I don’t belong here. Everything I say is a lie just so I can survive and they don’t feel they’ve been gypped by their all powerful magic. And whose voice do they keep talking about?” He wanted to go back home… well the home that he was at last with the couch that had sinking cushions. Now that he thought of it, maybe one of the other homes would be better than the last one. He sighed and flopped onto his face on the bed. “I can’t even go back and tell the guys what is happening. How would anyone believe me?” he complained into the pillow. Suddenly, he lifted his head and rolled over to look at the suit of armor he had forgotten about. He cursed and put a hand on his face. Corson was armed with a sword he could not even use. “How in the world am I supposed to learn how to swordfight before I leave? He hated it here. Nothing was going right and he could not wait to wake up from this nightmare. “Ugh! It’s not even a nightmare!” he yelled before going and dunking his head in the basin of water on the table. He grabbed a towel next to it and roughed up his short hair. He glared at the window, angrily and scoffed. “Goodnight, hellscape.”