The Mirror Mage | ONC2022

14. Midor

(Author's Note: Dedicated to Nacht_Owl one of the most supportive readers for the ONC over the years!)

The summer solstice was drawing near, making everyone twitchy. Tempers were short and alliances constantly changing. Perhaps more significantly, the skin between the worlds was stretched thin, making transitions like the one at Rider's Keep an actual possibility, instead of a mere tale told around a campfire.

Wearily, the Guild Master climbed to the room at the top of the tower. Night had fallen some hours ago and all was quiet. He pushed open the door and went across to stare down into the scrying glass, again. The surface was smooth and grey, with not even a ripple to disturb it. Nothing stirred in the depths. All was apparently as it should be, but the Guild Master continued to feel uneasy.

There had been no further disruptions to the ether from Rider's Keep since the initial flurry a couple of days ago, and he wondered why. It was highly unlikely the new comer had returned from whence he came. Something, had made him stop attempting to manipulate the ether. Had Uldon contained him, somehow? Or was it possible the man was no longer alive?

He thought it would be at least another day before his envoy reached Rider's Keep and was able to provide him with the answers he needed. Travelling by horse and coach was painfully slow, but it seemed evident the new comer could not glass walk safely, at least not yet, and he'd given orders for the man to be brought back to Vierrac. They couldn't have a loose, untrained, mage running about the place, despite whatever Uldon had been planning.

He guessed Uldon had been expecting to acquire an expert glass walker, someone to throw into the mix at the solstice. The Guild Master's lip curled scornfully, as he imagined Uldon's dismay when he discovered his prize was not a prize at all but a liability. The fool! Did he really think glass mages popped out of the mirror world, fully trained, equal to someone who had spent years honing their skills on Rhillion?

Raw talent did not a Mage make. A talented youngster needed years of training and practice before attaining the rank of Glass Walker—if they ever did.

The Guild Master sighed and rubbed his temples, then left the scrying glass to cross over to a window and gaze out into the night. The town lay quiet and sleeping, with just an occasional light glowing softly from the dwellings below. He rested his forearms on the cold stone and gazed up at the cloudless sky, drinking in the glory of the myriad stars and trying to regain the calm he so desperately needed.

So far, calm was eluding him.

His head was filled with worries and doubts, everything jostling for attention. Trying to isolate his biggest concern, the Guild Master found his memory returning to the first time he'd encountered a stranger from the Mirror Worlds.

He had been a youngster at the time, given the job of keeping guard outside the door to make sure they were not interrupted. He had been on tenterhooks, torn between trying to hear what was happening in the room behind him and keeping an eye on the corridor.

Crrraaakkk! The sound was like an explosion, followed immediately by furious shouting in a language he had never heard before

"Midor! Get in here! We need thy help." The breathless voice of Azohr, his mentor, came from the other side of the door.

Racing in to assist, Midor had seen the precious mirror broken into two large pieces, lying on the floor. A stranger struggled furiously in the grip of the two older mages; Azohr's lip was bleeding and Olaforn's shirt was torn. The man's face was contorted in fury as he kicked out with his foot, catching Olaforn on the knee.

"The hemal! For Rhillion's sake, get the hemal!" Azohr was panting.

Midor looked frantically around the room, his eyes finally lighting on a glass syringe. Hastily, he picked it up.

"Where-?"

"In the arm, or the leg. Anywhere! Anywhere thou can reach! Hurry!"

The stranger's eyes bulged at the sight of the syringe and he thrashed around even more wildly. Midor had to dance about, holding the syringe, trying to find somewhere to stick it where it wouldn't get knocked from his hand.

Eventually, he darted around behind the struggling trio and thumped it into the man's shoulder. Within seconds, his speech grew sluggish and his arms went limp, and then suddenly he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

All three mages stood staring down at him, breathing heavily.

"What language was he speaking? Could thou understand him?" Midor was wide-eyed. This had not been what he'd expected at all.

"Not a word, but I'm pretty certain he was swearing his head off!" Azohr dabbed at his lip.

"Are they always like that, so violent? Is this normal?" Midor was doubtful.

Azohr shrugged. "I suppose each case is different. I've only seen one other transition and she was surprised and fearful, but not violent."

"She was frightened?" Midor had not liked the sound of that.

"Well, only until she realised we meant her no harm." Olaforn was soothing. Seeing that Midor still frowned, he continued. "Marla told us that she had fled from a difficult situation back in her world. Once she settled in, she was very pleased to be here, and she said learning to be a mage was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Strangely enough, she'd had no powers at all in the Mirror World."

Midor looked back at the man on the floor and grimaced. He didn't think this man was going to thank them when he woke up.

He had been right. The stranger had fought them every step of the way, seemingly unable to grasp even the simplest mirror tasks offered to him. He made no attempt to learn their language and refused to teach them his. In the end, he had been sent to earn his keep on a vegetable farm, where if he didn't work, he didn't eat. Hoeing, planting and weeding didn't need much language.

Transitions were rare and Midor remembered there had been a gap of several years before the next. That had gone much more smoothly. And the one after that, though rough at first, had settled down quite nicely, despite the rivalry which had sprung up between the two men.

Glass Walkers both, he was expecting a challenge from each of them at the Solstice.