The Tessellation Saga. Book Two. 'The One' (31 page)

‘It’s finished
May,’ whispered Gideon placing his warm hand over Mayan’s, ‘It’s
ok, it’s done,’ he whispered again as he wiped a tear from her wet
face. Thaddrick was still speaking as she turned and clung to
Gideon tightly, once more closing her eyes and quickly becoming
reabsorbed in Thaddrick’s story.

‘In exchange
for the memory orb, leniency was offered to Astin and he accepted,
this at least gave him a chance for life, he was offered a place on
the exodus from Arotia and he accepted. Themos was able through
Astin’s treachery to plant a hidden link in his mind and through
this link; he was able to read the mind of Astin’s master. A
dangerous, tentative connection, barely there and although unable
to influence the Gatherer actions, information via the link enabled
the Council of Mages for the first time to capture and hold all the
known sympathisers and infiltrators within the castle, the deed was
kept silent by using one of the last precious spell crystals. Then
the council sent another envoy to the Gatherer, this last with just
one message.

‘We offer
surrender,’ it said. Arotia was to be handed to the Gatherer and
his followers in a ceremony to be held at a place of his own
choosing. Théoden and the council knew this was the pivotal point
in their plan, a last ditch attempt to save if not themselves and
their planet, at least part of their culture. This plan, so simple
in its conception had to work. Their hopes centred on their enemy
being reliable in his vanity, in his absolute certainty that he was
the victor.

To vast relief,
the Gatherer, drunk with ambition and elation at his final triumph
accepted the terms of the surrender and with arrogance, he himself
demanded the handing over of power to take place in the Chamber of
Justice, at the heart of Parton Castle, a fitting place he
believed, for a new ruler to begin his reign.

This had been a
moment of joy, tinged with infinite sadness for Théoden and his
fellow mages, for the plan to work and the Demon’s spell to be
countered, the ceremony had had to be in the great chamber. The
balance needed was great indeed; Théoden hugged his beloved wife
and infant son goodbye, knowing he would never hold them again.

‘We’ll meet
again my loves,’ he said, ‘we’ll meet on the ‘Journey.’’

Mayan let the
tears fall from her eyes as she watched the woman bravely holding
her son and kissing her husband goodbye. There was such love
between the two people Mayan could feel it, it almost broke her
heart to see the beautiful woman let a single tear fall as the man
gently stroked her cheek with his finger. She reached for Gideon’s
hand knowing he was seeing the same things and hoping Gideon could
feel the love she felt for him. She could have stayed there
watching the couple but the pictures changed once more, as
Thaddrick continued to speak.

‘The Gatherer
arrived at the appointed hour with the majority of his vast army
left outside the castle walls in the remains of the once beautiful
stone city. He rode with his entourage of mages through the gates,
amazed at how much of the city and its castle had survived the
constant earth tremors. Taking great lungfulls of the magically
cleaned air, he rode on toward the heart of the castle and, he
believed, his destiny.

The enormous
circular room built entirely of grey stone and crystal, had so far
managed to withstand the constant explosions and rocking of the
earth. Large glass panels adorned the walls around an outer walkway
where stone columns supported a vast crystal ceiling; this filled
the room with light, both natural and reflected, making the vast
hall seem infinite in its proportions. Magic was a tangible thing
here in this hall, the Gatherer’s skin tingled as his blood
responded to the magic he could feel in the very fabric of the
air.’

Varan gasped
aloud, his mind in a whirl; the pictures Thaddrick was drawing in
his mind were images he was as familiar with as his face.
The
tattoo Gath stripped from my back had depicted this place, the rock
carvings I made in my cell... all a crude attempt at copying
this... this chamber.
Varan shook his head to clear his
thoughts as Thaddrick continued unaware of his confusion.

‘The Gatherer,
looked about him and found what he sought, he locked eyes with the
leader of the Council of Schools, Théoden. The man was standing
across the vast hall with his family, one hand holding his wife who
looked from where he stood as if she had been crying, she held her
infant in her arms, Théoden’s other hand rested on the shoulder of
a young man who stood beside him. One of Théoden’s reclusive older
brothers, whom the gatherer had never seen but knew all about from
spies, was standing to the other side of the boy, he was almost
hidden behind a pillar mumbling to himself and scribbling into a
book.’

Listening to
Thaddrick’s words, the vision remained real and the company watched
as behind their eyes the drama continued to unfold, they could
almost feel the thoughts and fears of the people in the great hall.
Mayan shuddered, as her perspective became that of the Gatherer
himself.

Themos,
the Gatherer smiled, he had sent a spy to take that particular
individual. Quickly as he tried to reach the man’s mind a light
headed feeling suddenly enveloped him, then disappeared as fast as
it had come
. No… nothing, Astin must have been unsuccessful, he
thought, strange though…
he stared hard at Themos
contemptuously; unable to believe Astin had failed, he had until
now believed Astin had orchestrated the surrender. The old fool is
still mumbling, he thought as he caught sight of Themos staring at
him.

Looking once
more about him and ignoring the small sounds of warning in his head
he continued into the vast hall. He stepped over the circular outer
walkway, between the outer walls of the hall and through two of the
twelve majestic pillars that dominated the space, as if they were
legs reaching high into the air supporting the vast crystal
ceiling, his eyes never leaving those of his defeated opponent. At
the very base of each pillar stood a robed mage, head bowed and
hooded, arms held across chests and hands locked between large
sleeves. More of this defeated council, he thought.

At any other
time, the Gatherer would have taken a moment to admire and gloat
over what he considered was now his but always impatient, he moved
to the centre of the room where a raised stone dais held a granite
throne, encrusted with beautifully coloured gemstones. His
entourage moved as one to shadow the Schools mages around the
gallery. Although vain, the Gatherer was not a stupid man, he had
taken precautions to ensure every member of his company was a
battle mage. If this was a trap then he was prepared, his own Demon
enhanced magic combined with the magic of his men was enough to
know the outcome of any battle within these walls would still see
him as the victor.

As the Gatherer
walked the last few steps to the raised stone platform, the earth
again began to shake making him stumble up the stone steps of the
circular dais. Reaching forward to stop himself from falling
completely, he placed his hands on the floor for support. The stone
was surprisingly smooth and cool, the Gatherer let his fingers hold
the cool polished granite as the quake continued to rumble from
deep underground. Valeria, Théoden’s wife held her breath as the
Gatherer seemed to stroke the stone beneath his fingers, the stone
remained solid but an inch either way and the Gatherer would have
felt the invisible and intricate symbols carved into it, entirely
encircling the crystal and gem studded stone chair above. Another
shake of the earth and the quake passed allowing the ceremony to
continue. Standing once more, the Gatherer took his position on the
raised dais to accept the surrender of Arotia.’

Gideon opened
his eyes, he felt sick and his mind whirled, he held on to Mayan’s
hand for support. He thought he could feel the earth beneath him
shaking and the air turning to violence and death. Thaddrick
continued to speak as he watched Gideon and his reaction to the
story. Roidan moving quietly placed her hands over Gideon’s eyes
encouraging him to close them once more and ‘see’ as Thaddrick
spoke. Gideon’s lids closed and Roidan returned to her place behind
her husband.

‘Théoden,
watched by his silently weeping wife walked toward the Gatherer
with the emblem of the schools, the circlet, its thick band of gold
and powerful twelve sided diamond symbol held high in his hands and
knelt upon the first step still holding the emblem high, his head
bowed as if in defeat.’

‘Théoden, place
the crown upon my head yourself, it will show to the world your
complete acceptance of me,’ said the Gatherer as he lowered himself
on to the beautiful throne. Suddenly as he sat, blue lights in the
stone dais surrounding the throne seemed to come alive through the
deeply carved spell symbols, they swirled about him and grew in
intensity. Within moments, a stone and glass cell with a small
crystal atop it had surrounded the Gatherer and looking up he could
see a second larger crystal suspended above that.

‘Treachery,’
the evil one screamed as the magic closed about him holding him
fast. He screamed in vain as another, last fearsome battle ensued,
the Gathersmen cut off from their master and lost without his
supporting Demon enhanced strength behind them began to fall and
everywhere skin itched as battle magic imbued the air.

The Gatherer
screamed repeatedly in frustration as he realised Théoden and his
mages had set wards on his cell, powerful protection spells against
assault from the inside, captured by deception he raged, knowing
the fault was his own. He could do nothing but watch in anger and
intense frustration as his eleven chief followers fought and died
one by one; he felt their loss of power keenly as each man fell to
the embrace of death and appointment with the Demon. All around the
castle, the invading army of Gathersmen began to waken from the
compulsion spell as its source, the Gatherer weakened, weary and
scared they began to crowd into the castle grounds looking for
clean air.

Another
earthquake began to rumble across the land in response to the
abundance of spent battle magic, the floor of the cell along with
the great room began to heave and buck, the crystal of the cell
stretched and thinned threatening to break.

The quaking
ground at last began to quieten once more amidst screams of pain
and death, then a last massive contraction of the earth and the
quaking eased. The Gatherer still held fast in his ornate cell
noticed a tiny crack, a weakening in one corner of the crystal
ceiling above his head, hope soared in his evil soul but fell just
as quickly as the warding held.

The soft cries
of the wounded and the silence of the dead became ominous and he
could feel the dead souls swirling throughout the chamber, their
secret onward journey not yet begun. From his warded cell, he
watched as the fallen, both mage and Gathersmen alike were carried
away quietly and quickly. Hate filled his black heart; he was
incensed, captured by a simple trick.

Injured and
holding a bloodied arm across his chest, Théoden stood with his
back to the Gatherer, the emblem of schools still in his one good
hand; he solemnly walked across the detritus of battle to his
eldest son and gently placed it on his head. Kissing his wife’s
hand once more he moved back to take his place at the base of one
of the two pillars so recently defended by a schools mage. Not once
did he look upon his vanquished enemy. To his left a second mage
claimed the base of the only other vacant pillar, Théoden smiled
sadly at his friend and as if a silent signal had been given, the
remaining school’s mages began to chant, just softly at first, a
low harmonic drone easy to listen to and almost intoxicating in its
fervour.

The Gatherer
remained a silent watcher in his opulent prison; although still
held fast he began to itch again. His skin crawling almost
unbearably, like a million spiders feeding on him all at once and
he could feel incredibly strong magic as it was used against him,
somehow it was being drawn from him and in a way he just could not
fathom. He silently screamed in fury as he frantically worked on
the tiny crack unnoticed, mumbling and chanting himself, loosening
and unravelling the warding spells holding his own weakened power
at bay.’

Varan and Sonal
sitting close together at the table and so engrossed in the tale,
added their own voices to the mages chant, a chant they knew, a
chant they had learnt as boys at their father’s knee.

‘Outside his
cell the chanting increased, the tones changed, building in
intensity and volume until the vast hall was almost vibrating and
the crystal ceiling began to resonate in reply to the music and
singing of the mages. Inside the cell the air began to thicken,
bright colours began to swirl and bend in front of the Gatherer’s
eyes, pink swathes of silken air turned to red then purple. Yellow
and green ribbons of colour began to dance and mingle with the
purple, running like rivers of light and as his world spun,
becoming lighter and brighter, then darkness began to gather in the
very centre of the cell. A spinning vortex was born ever growing
darker and denser in colour as it changed shape and took on the
form of a hexagon, another appeared then another and another, until
finally, as the world turned black around him the hundreds of
hexagons tessellated and seemingly became solid. He felt changes
within his own body and being, he began to expand and darken, he
felt as if he was thinning out, that he was losing substance
somehow, that he was becoming one with his cell.

Through eyes
that were no longer eyes, he watched in astonishment as for the
very first time he looked upon his soul as a tangible thing, black
and evil. His cell expanded with him as the darkness held, fused
into its hexagonal shape, it stopped briefly then grew again though
it shimmered like a liquid, a deep, dark black velvety nothing.
Still the singing increased, infusing his brain with unwelcome hope
for Arotia. His fragile mind began to lose its grip on sanity as he
tried to see himself as a man within the confines of the crystal
prison and as the singing continued he found a certain peace, a
‘oneness’ with his insanity.