The Shattered Path

Chapter 42 - The Power

Alara had never been so frightened. She was locked inside of her own mind; unable to see, feel, smell, or hear. Genbael had shut out her senses as well as prevented her from calling upon magic. The initial terror of the deprivation had left her terrified and even after she had come to fully understand what had happened, she was still afraid.

She assumed she was still on the furs in the plump woman's warm dwelling. That was a slight reassurance, even if she knew the Raujornian was there somewhere. He had threatened to take her back to Raujorn, so she didn't expect to die, at least not soon. Could he transport her there via magic? Or would he have to escort her over land? She was unsure what he was capable of doing, but if he traveled over land he could utilize magic to speed up the process just the same. She assumed that she didn't have a lot of time to perform an escape. Once she reached Raujorn, nothing good could come of it and escape would be impossible. She was certain of that.

It was terrible to be unable to see or feel. She had been reduced to feeling emotions, and fear had been the dominant one. Her mind clawed at the fringes of thought, reaching for magic that could not be found. She had been exhausted prior to being shielded by Genbael, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to find any magic now. It seemed that the Raujornian had won, at least for the time being. She wondered if she might regain enough strength to fight her way free if she remained shielded long enough. There seemed to be little hope beyond that. If she was as powerful as Syrs had told her, then maybe it was possible for her to accomplish such an unlikely escape. Of course, Syrs could probably find a way to get free, if he was prisoner, but he was dead now. Once she managed to become free, and she told herself it was going to happen, she would make Genbael pay dearly for ending the life of her mentor. He would pay for all of the misery he had caused.

Alara tried to think of something other than the darkness which held her. She thought of her father and it was soothing for a moment. He was a strong and handsome man, and he had always been there for her. She was happy that he was her father. She would never consider having anyone else fill the role. Regardless, what the priest lied about, Lastes was her father. He had been too caring not to be. Imaen was her mother, too. Not some woman held by the Circle of Magic in Raujorn.

Once her father returned to find the Seachantress had been sunk, he would likely think she had died. She may indeed be dead by then, depending on what the Raujornians intended for her. No one was going to come rescue her, not where she was in the cold mountains. She knew this because even she did not know exactly where she was, and knew no one else could find her either. Her father had no magic and would not stand a chance against Genbael, but it still would have made her feel better to think he was trying to come for her. There was no hope of that, and she did not want any harm to come to her father, so she was relieved that he was nowhere near this danger, even though it meant she was alone. Hopefully, now that the wizards of Raujorn had captured her, they would leave her father alone and he could return to her mother on Trader's Isle. That was a small bit of relief anyway.

Alara was not sure how long she had been held in the darkness. Her fear began to ease. It could have been a short time or half of a day. She could not tell. She suspected it had been only a few hours and hoped Genbael didn't intend to keep her like this until she was turned over to the Circle of Law. That would be agonizing. Even if he just sent his thoughts to her to gloat, it would ease her mind and break the monotony of her own thinking.

Alara adjusted to the isolation and floated in the unfeeling darkness. It was then, when she was peaceful and content to be in the dark, that she sensed a distant hum. There was something there in the nothingness. It was like an enormous rumbling waterfall far, far away, but she didn't exactly hear and feel it. It was a strange sensation and she hoped that it was the real world seeping its way through the crippling magic. She knew that it was not. It was something very peculiar, and noticing it was like noticing the clouds high overhead for the first time. It was something that had always been there, only now she realized it and couldn't stop noticing it.

Alara concentrated hard on the source of the hum and it seemed to come from all around. It was familiar, that hum. It was as if she had always heard it, subconsciously, her entire life. Now, she realized it was there and it flowed through everything. It was similar to spirit and energy magic, yet she could not sense it in the same manner. When she tried to call to it as she did other magic, it did not respond.

Alara listened to the hum for awhile. It was soothing for her to be able to perceive something in the numb darkness. It seemed to grow louder after she focused on it. It was definitely not spirit or energy magic, but it seemed like magic. That was not possible; at least, she didn't think it was. Syrs could have explained it to her. He had known so much about magic. And the thought of her mentor again drew anger towards Genbael, silencing the hum for a moment.

The tattooed face of the Raujornian flashed in her mind and she thought about how much she hated him. She wanted to tear those dark eyes out of his head. One day, she would be a powerful wizard and she would go to Raujorn and make them all suffer. Syrs had been a kind, old man. He could not help it if he had been powerful in magic. Just as she could not help it if she was powerful. It was wrong for the Raujornians to hound either of them. They had not abused their powers. They had only sought to understand them. Those Raujies would pay for their deeds. She would see to that.

Anger raged within her. Genbael filled her thoughts and she despised him. The hum suddenly grew stronger and louder. Like a war drum. It increased in intensity until it became a heavy rumble that surrounded her in the darkness. Then it began to fill her, though she had not called it as she would have other magic; and suddenly she could feel her body again. Her flesh was hot. So incredibly hot.

Fear clawed at her mind. The heat increased until it felt as if she might burst in to flame. Her ears filled with the roar of this mysterious power that consumed her. In her mind, she could see that her body was flung over the shoulder of Genbael. He moved among stone cottages. There was smoke and fire. Men swung swords at other beast-like men. Bodies were sprawled across the ground. Bleeding men crawled over the rocky soil, ignored by those around them who still struggled for their own lives. It was like something from a nightmare. Was it real? Or was it some trick of Genbael's magic? Somehow she was certain this was real. It was the detail with which she saw everything.

Blinded and deafened by Genbael's magic, Alara could sense these things around her. The images were alive in her mind. Whatever this new power, it allowed her to see everything around her. She could even sense the magic emanating from Genbael, holding the energy magic away from her. She could also sense the tendrils of lhaeris and saerh, the dark spirit magic, reaching into her, intricately intertwined in a complex Raujornian casting. All that magic seemed so simple just then, though it would have taken her years to figure it out on her own, perhaps.

Consumed by rage, bursting with this power, Alara easily wiped away the spirit magic which held her mind. It was as if she had wiped a cobweb from her shoulder; that simple. She didn't know how she did it. Only that it was easy.

Genbael screamed.

Through the agony that wracked her own body, Alara felt satisfaction. She brushed away the invisible sphere of magic surrounding her that held the powerful energy magic at bay. It gushed back around her, though she did not call it. Still, she could feel its warm caress.

Genbael screamed again. She liked it when he screamed.

Alara felt herself breathing. Sights, sounds, and smells came to her all at once. Metal clanging on metal. Men shouting commands. Men dying. Smoke. Charred wood. Heat. The raging orange glow of fires. And voices nearby. Hurried footsteps coming closer.

Now, it was Alara's turn to scream. Her flesh felt as if it might catch fire. She was so hot. Even the inside of her body felt flaming hot. Was she going to be consumed by this power? So much pain. She struggled to concentrate through the agony. She was going to burn alive. This power would consume her. She tried to force the power from her body. It still roared all around. Determined, she tried again. She did it! Her pain disappeared. The power was pushed outward and only then she realized her mistake. It was too late. May the gods forgive her, it was too late.