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- The problem of power is how to achieve its responsible use
- rather than its irresponsible and indulgent use –
- of how to get men of power to live for the public
- rather than off the public.
-Robert F. Kennedy
The Abbey of Our Lady in White
The Abbey of Our Lady in White, contrary to expectations, was a grim, forbidding-looking structure, built of a dark gray schist granite that was so hard, only magically gifted stonemasons could manage it. Set deep in the ancient and tangled forest of Lissett, on the world known locally as Eribeth, the structure reflected its purpose: the defense of a magical artifact known as the Xendon stone, brought to Eribeth by the local incarnation of the goddess Vindayin: Our Lady in White.
The abbey looked the part of a defensive fortification, with thick crenellated walls, pierced at regular intervals with slits to allow archers to defend the structure, and its prize, with overlapping fields of fire. Massive catapults and trebuchet were mounted in protected positions behind the curtain wall of the fortification, ready to hurl death into any force foolish enough to mount an attack. The wall itself rose nearly 100 feet, and tapered from its 30 foot thickness at the top, to a base built on native bedrock that was 120 feet thick at its foundation.
Inside the curtain wall lay another, higher wall, providing yet another layer of protection in the unlikely event the outer wall was ever taken. The bailey area between the two walls was kept clear of any buildings other than stables and paddocks for horses and draft animals required by the martial order of magically gifted monks and nuns who served within the walls, known as the Order of Our Lady in White. All within the walls of the fortification and the castle keep were magically gifted; even the serving staff were secondary level practitioners of the ars magica. Full members of the order, on the other hand, were, without exception, ranked at the master level.
The interior of the castle keep had been designed with the other of the order’s purposes in mind: worship of the lady through song. The chants and songs sung within the halls of the keep resonated throughout the fortification, and were clearly audible well into the forest. The lyrics may have been in an unknown language, but were so skillfully crafted, the harmonies so intricate and complex, that the listener was soon caught up in the music, bemused by a beauty that enhanced the experience of the faithful as they worshiped their goddess.
Deep in the lower levels of the keep, in a room sealed by protective spells, Farwalker Redbush materialized on the transfer portal, and was instantly immobilized by the protective spellcraft in the room. Caught off guard, the Hazar druid raised spells of his own, intended to free himself, only to find them instantly crushed out of existence and his form even more tightly restrained. Quickly seeing the futility of resistance, Farwalker relaxed his physical form as far as it was able, and stopped fighting the wards. Within moments, the wards relaxed, allowing the dark druid a small measure of movement.
Redbush slowly entered a meditative state, and began using his skills to examine the wards protecting the room and locking him into place. What he saw with his magical senses nearly took his breath away. The multilayered and interlocking spells were beautifully crafted, woven together into a magical tapestry the likes of which he had only seen once. Stopping to ponder that thought, he quickly realized the place he had seen such complex spellcraft was on his own world, in the form of the wards guarding the entrances to the old fortress of Ravenrock. It was a simple leap of logic to see the connections between the two places, tied together as they were by the common thread of Vindayin.
While entranced, Farwalker sensed a disturbance in the ebb and flow of the magic around him, and on examining the changes in the pattern of spells, found he was quietly being observed by a triad of powerful mages, their power plain in the magical realm from which they were being observed while observing him in turn. Slipping back into the normal planes of reality, Farwalker opened his eyes, silently taking in the beings before him. It was obvious that this abbey was staffed with beings from various worlds, as the three mages were clearly of differing species: one of elvin origin, another whose people were obviously amphibian if the gill slits in the neck were any indication, and finally, a being that resembled nothing so much as a moving rock pile. All three were dressed in long flowing robes dyed in the deepest of azure hues, embroidered symbols in brilliant white thread at the collar of the robes evidently indicating rank of some kind; the lack of weapons was a conspicuous statement in and of itself, indicating the confidence of the beings before him in their magical abilities.
Smiling at his reception committee, Farwalker decided to take the initiative and opened by saying, “Vindayin be with you. I am Farwalker Redbush, and I seek the path to the Xendon stone.”
The rocklike being responded in a deep, gravelly voice reminiscent of two massive stones grinding against each other, “Your purpose, Farwalker Redbush, is clear to us by the manner of your arrival as this is the only known connecting portal between your world and this one. Before you are released, we must make certain rules clear to you, and you must agree to abide by them, or you will never leave this place. Do you understand?”
The dark druid nodded his understanding of the situation, his limited range of motion conveying more than his simply stated, “I am very clear on your point, good monk.”
The rocklike monk continued, “I am known in this place as Brother Nodulan. My companions are Brother Tchphht,” and here he indicated the amphibian, “and Brother Mikal,” as he gestured toward the elvin being.
“We constitute the governing trifecta here at the Abbey of Our Lady in White, Farwalker Redbush, and as I said, we are here to advise you of the terms governing your presence here. First, you may not use your powers anywhere within the keep, except when you are facing the four challenges that lay between you and the Xendon stone. The wards of this place will react instantly to any infraction, containing your magic, and restraining you until we arrive. I assure you that we will deal with any infractions harshly.”
Seeing the druid nodding his understanding, Brother Nodulan continued, “The second thing you must understand is that there are limitations on the length of time you have here. You will be allowed the balance of this day as a day of rest and meditation before you will face the first challenge, and you will be allowed one day of rest between challenges. You will be entirely on your own where the challenges are concerned, and I assure you that each is deadly in its own way. You will receive no assistance from us beyond basic hospitality as Our Lady has made it plain that you are an evil being bent on destructive and power hungry ends. While the gods are prohibited from acting against you for reasons they have already explained to you, we have no compunctions whatsoever about killing you. You must be offered the attempt, but you must comply with our rules. Violations will be dealt with quickly and harshly.”
“Finally, you will be under guard the entire time you are here by a minimum of three beings who are at least your equal in ability and power. Do not challenge us, druid, unless you are prepared to meet your dark master. Are we clear?”
Seeing little choice but to comply, the dark druid nodded his acquiescence, “I agree to your terms, Brother Nodulan, especially as it would seem I have no other option. When do I begin?”
Brother Mikal spoke for the first time, “If you agree, the first challenge will be tomorrow morning after we celebrate the morning office and we break our fast in the great hall. Normally, guests would be invited to participate in Matins, but we will not have your presence sully that sanctified space. Your guards will bring you to the morning meal at the appropriate time. While I know Brother Nodulan has already touched on this point, I will reinforce it. All you will encounter in this place are experienced master level practitioners of the ars magica, many of whom could crush you with but a thought. Do not cross us, druid, or you shall surely regret it for the short period that likely remains in your life.”
At a hand signal from Brother Tchphht, three hooded and cowled beings stepped forward as the stasis field holding Farwalker in place faded. The three surrounded the druid, one in the lead, two behind, as they escorted him to his cell. Cell turned out to be a fair description, as the room he was escorted, and locked into, had only the bare needs for comfort. Furnishings were limited to a small table with a hard backed wooden chair, a cot with a thin mattress and thinner blanket, and a chamber pot in its own little closet. The sole decoration in the room was an icon of the Lady in White, mounted, as if in blessing, over the head of the cot.
Seeing he was destined to await whatever was coming in solitude, Farwalker chose to meditate, and was shortly deep in a trancelike state, always sensing the protective wards of the keep nearby, coiled and ready to spring at the slightest infraction of the rules. The slit of sunlight from the window gradually traced its arc across the wall of the cell, and at dusk, the door was opened, and food placed on his table along with a flagon of ale and a small loaf of freshly baked bread.
The thud of the bolt being thrown home barely registered on the druid’s consciousness, but the mouthwatering scent of fresh bread gradually woke the druid to the fact that food was available. The first conscious thing that registered was the scent of the bread, followed quickly by the aroma of a rich and spicy stew. A low grumble of hunger escaped Farwalker’s stomach as his senses were assaulted with the various scents of a well prepared meal, so he wasted no time in digging into the fine repast that had been provided by his jailers.
Feeling replete after a good meal, Farwalker decided that the best thing he could do would be to rest, so he stepped to the cot, made himself comfortable, and pulled the blanket over his lanky body. Nearly forgetting the wards, Farwalker almost made the mistake of employing a sleep spell, before he caught himself with a low chuckle. Instead, he employed an old mental discipline of clearing his mind of all its conscious thought and concerns, enabling him to quickly fall into a deep sleep.
When the guards checked him moments later, a low snore was heard, indicating the combination of a large meal and some simple mental exercises had quickly done the trick, and sent the dark druid into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Farwalker was roused from his slumber by the harmonies of Matins as the monks went about performing the morning offices for the Lady in White. Bemused by the beautiful sounds emanating from the central chapel, Farwalker found himself to be unusually contemplative and for a brief time wondered if he was, in fact, doing the right thing in attempting to free his people. Were the Hazar really the bestial creatures of legend, or, as he had always believed, simply a people whose motivations were misunderstood? The harmonies and the magic of religious observance had the dark druid in a furious debate with himself until the morning ceremonies were ended. With the end of the entrancing music, his certainty hardened, the dark reasserting control, and the Hazar druid was once again resolute in his purpose.
Moments after his internal debate ended, Farwalker rose and washed himself using the bowl and ewer of water that had been provided during the night. As he was toweling his face dry, the bolt slid open and his guards entered the cell, again arranging themselves around him as they escorted him to the great hall where he broke his fast in silent isolation at a table well away from any members of the order. His guards had evidently already eaten and they simply indicated that Farwalker should be seated and eat.
While enjoying a surprisingly well prepared meal of scrambled eggs, pan fried potatoes of an unusual purple hue, and something that tasted remarkably like ham steak, Farwalker opened his senses to the room and, while being extremely careful not to use any bit of magical power, gradually acquainted himself with the power gathered together in the place. His first sense was one of massive power, only barely restrained; power such as he had never seen gathered together in one place ever before. As he ate, he began to separate the individual threads that wove the blanket of power he sensed, and gradually found that there were a few people of lesser abilities, and that these were generally restricted to the white robed servants moving around the hall seeing to the culinary needs of the Order of Our Lady in White. This was still a revelation to Farwalker, who sensed more secondary echelon skill gathered together in the hall than any individual city guild on his home world. Coming to the conclusion that attempting mischief in this place was a fool’s errand, he resolved to get his task accomplished as quickly as possible and return to his home world.
The dark druid finished breaking his fast as the leadership trifecta from the previous day approached his table. Farwalker wiped his lips and dried his suddenly moist palms on the linen napkin before standing to greet the three leaders of the order. Farwalker acknowledged their approach with a slight bow from the waist before his guards resumed their protective formation about him and led him from the great hall.
The group traversed a long corridor on the same floor that connected to what was evidently a massive entry hall, flanked on either side by broad stone staircases leading higher up into the complex. The guard force mounted the steps and the group of seven beings gradually worked their way higher and higher until it was obvious from the view from the odd arrow slit that they were well up in one of the castle’s towers. As the group drew to a halt on a broad landing, Farwalker found himself panting lightly, with an unaccustomed burn in the muscles of his calves and thighs.
Wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow, the druid resolved to pay more attention to his physical conditioning once he returned home…if he returned home, he thought to himself wryly. Brother Nodulan stopped before a pair of heavily reinforced wooden doors and ground out an incantation that was more felt than heard. At its completion, the doors blended together and flowed into a representation of the face of Vindayin, and the brothers of the order took a knee in reaction. The face of Vindayin smiled at the members of her martial order, but then frowned, her eyes sparking in irritation as she looked around and spotted the dark druid.
“Your presence here, Farwalker Redbush, while tolerated, is not appreciated. It would be best for your world if you were to withdraw from this mad venture and return home.”
Farwalker stepped back under the sheer force of the disapproval he felt from the goddess, before he squared his shoulders and, bolstered by the dark, stepped forward boldly, “I am here, my goddess, to free my people, not to debate my actions and motivations with you. We must, alas, agree to disagree.”
Vindayin met his certitude with her own level gaze before her face disappeared from the opening, the wood flowing again back into a pair of solid doors. Once the material resumed its normal shape, a loud click was heard and the doors opened inwards of their own accord, allowing admittance to the chamber beyond. Brother Nodulan’s form ground its way upright and moved into the spartan chamber, taking it for granted that the others would follow his lead. As Farwalker strode into the testing chamber, he immediately sensed the presence of several transfer portals from the subtle play of their energies against his magical senses. Turning back to his escort, he noted that the leadership had seated themselves, while his guards had their heads bowed and were murmuring an incantation. The three wizards stretched forth their right hands, reaching into the center of the circle formed by their bodies. As their hands touched, an immense blaze of ward energies sprung into being, glowing against the stone of the walls and the wood of the doors with a shimmering silver light that cast everything in a harsh and shadowless aspect.
Brother Mikal rose and turned his fiery gaze on the dark druid. “Farwalker Redbush, you know why you are here so I will not waste your time on useless detail. There are four transfer portals in this room. Each will take you to one of four challenges that you must face and survive in order to reach your goal. You may face the first three in any order you choose, but you must needs face them all before facing the fourth and final challenge.” Seating himself, the monk continued, “You may begin.”
Understanding he was going to receive no further guidance, Farwalker walked to where he sensed the portals and opened his senses to each of the portals in turn. All he was able to discern from his examination was that they were restricted portals, only allowing them to be used to move from one place to another. Seeing he was not going to learn anything else, he moved to stand on the first portal on his left and, without a backward glance, bound to his will the energies necessary to activate the portal.
Farwalker Redbush materialized in what looked remarkably like the chamber he had first appeared in on his arrival at the Abbey of Our Lady in White. As before, he was instantly restrained, but having learned a few things from his first experience, the dark druid strangled his instinctive reaction to attempt to raise magic to free himself. Instead, Farwalker began to relax his body, allowing his mind to float free and concentrate its full attention on the wards holding him in place.
A close examination of the wards reinforced his initial impression of carefully woven spell craft, and for a moment he despaired of finding a solution. Still, he reasoned, there had to be a way out of the chamber, as he had been promised that there was a chance of attaining his goal. Mentally shrugging, the dark druid began some mild probes at the fabric of the ward. Each and every attempt to raise magic, however, was instantly smothered, the energy crushed almost before it began to form.
Farwalker pulled his awareness back into his physical form and contemplated the situation he was in. Clearly, the ward was designed to prevent the use of any magic to enable an escape, but every time he relaxed, the wards holding him in place had pulled back on sensing he had stopped fighting them. The more he pondered the situation, the more he became convinced that magic would not serve as a solution to his dilemma.
Tired of being held in the same position for what seemed hours, he yawned, and in so doing, found he was able to move slowly during the instinctive stretch that went along with the act of yawning. Surprised, he tried again, and found he was able to move his hand and its fingers; as long as he moved slowly. Wondering if there was a link between his being restricted and the wards sensing magical ability, he consciously shuttered his mental shields, closing off his magical abilities so tightly, no iota of his abilities was detectable.
So quickly that he was stunned, the ward withdrew from him, giving him the first opportunity for free movement in hours. Slowly stretching stiff muscles, he walked towards the only door in the chamber, moving cautiously lest he rouse the ward by moving too suddenly. In a matter of moments, he found himself standing before the great barred door, wondering what to do next, when the door swung open of its own accord. As he passed the threshold of the doorway, he felt a transport portal activate of its own accord and Farwalker found himself looking into the same chamber where Brothers Nodulan, Tchphht, and Mikal looked up at him in surprise that quickly subsided into disappointment that he had managed to win his way through the first challenge.
Redbush was silently escorted back to his cell, where food was delivered shortly after his arrival. While eating, the druid relaxed and noted the position of the shadows in his room, coming to the conclusion that he had, indeed, been gone more than half the day. Knowing there would be nothing to challenge his interest until the next trial, Farwalker stretched out on his cot and was soon deep in sleep.
The routine was followed to precision the morning following his rest day, the only exception being that Vindayin didn’t bother to waste any further conversation on the dark druid, knowing it to be a fool’s errand to attempt to change his mind. This time, however, there were instructions after the chamber was warded and glowing silver bright. As Farwalker stepped towards the transfer portal of his choice, Brother Mikal leveled his gaze on the druid and without preamble stated, “Hold one moment, Farwalker Redbush. Having made your choice of trial, you need the following guidance. Your task this day is to find and return to us an ancient artifact you will find where you travel on this trial.”
Without a word, Brother Tchphht raised his hand and there, suspended above his palm, was the image of a diamond and ruby encrusted golden mace of office. Once Redbush had seen the item, the amphibian monk closed his hand and the image vanished. Brother Mikal continued, “The portal will enable you to return at any time. However, if you do not have the item we require of you, the portal will return you to your home world, and you will not be allowed to return: ever. Do you understand?”
Nodding his comprehension of the instructions, Farwalker stepped to the second of the four portals where he bound the requisite energies together and activated the portal without any further thought.
Darkness and an absence of physical sensation greeted Farwalker as he arrived at his destination. Instinctively, the druid attempted to conjure a ball of handfire for light, only to find that he couldn’t. Suddenly worried in the dark, he attempted several other spells, only to achieve the same negative result each time. Struggling to control his growing panic, he took a deep breath and forced himself to try and relax a moment, to give his eyes a chance to adjust to the gloom. Some moments later, he began to see that the space he was in was not completely pitch black, that it was lit by a low phosphorescent glow from patches of lichen clinging to the damp walls of the space he was in. As his eyes adjusted further, he even began to see that there was an area where the light was just that little bit brighter off to his left.
Figuring he had nothing to lose, he turned and walked towards the light, taking care to test his footing before moving along. Step by careful step, Farwalker slowly reached a branching of the tunnel he had been following, seeing that the light was coming from the branch tunnel, and that it grew brighter further along. Easing his head into the branch, he found nothing of danger in his path, and proceeded down the branch in the growing light, finally able to proceed with his normal rapid stride now that he could see clearly.
As the dark druid proceeded, he began to notice a gradual and rhythmic movement of the air in the cavern, moving first towards the darkness, and then slowly returning towards the growing brightness ahead. Further, he began to notice a smell on the breeze, a gradually growing scent of sulfur mingled with the sickly sweet scent of decaying meat. As these things registered on Farwalker, alarm bells began going off in his mind, causing him to pause and think where he had experienced these things before. All unbidden, an image of the halls of Angkalon the Black rose in his imagination, leading him to slow his approach.
Understanding what he was moving towards at last, and finally aware of the nature of the challenge he faced, Farwalker became extremely careful where he placed his booted feet, making as little sound as possible, and minimizing the chance he could be detected from either the sound or the vibration of his tread on the stone floor of the cavern. Gradually, the source of the light resolved itself into a carved doorway, large enough for what the druid feared lived beyond the door to pass easily. Easing his way towards the man-sized crack open between the two massive doors, he peered around the doorway and found his worst fears realized. The room was inhabited by a massive dragon whose scales reflected a rainbow of light, a dragon whose massive lungs powered the air in and out of the room, wisps of smoke curling from its nostrils between breaths.
Farwalker scanned the room before him, seeing it heaped with mounds of the drake’s captured booty: gold, silver, and jewels of all sizes and colors lay heaped in untidy mounds, adding their reflected color to the otherworldly light being cast in the room from the oculus mounted in the ceiling of the huge chamber. As his eyes examined the scene before him, his eyes suddenly locked onto an item he had seen before. There, in the open, on a carved pedestal sat the jewel encrusted mace he had been sent to recover. The only problem was that the pedestal was directly in front of the sleeping dragon on the other side of the chamber.
The druid carefully stepped back from the doorway, and withdrew down the hall to consider what he had seen and how best to proceed. Scrambling up a little ledge, Farwalker sat and planned. If his magical skills worked in this place, taking the mace would be difficult. Without them, getting his hands on the mace and living to return it were impossible. Given that set of circumstances, he resolved to find why his magical skills didn’t work before attempting anything else.
Retreating into a meditative state, the druid began to examine the energy flows he could still sense, but not control, for a clue as to how best to manipulate the energy in this world. Sure enough, the energy was there, flowing all around him, even in this deep dark cavern. Why then, he pondered, was he not able to use it? Reaching out with the mental discipline of his magical senses, he found that the energy in this place felt different. It was somehow slippery, always seeming to be just beyond his control.
While he contemplated his situation, he became aware of a low level, but persistent, tingling of his senses, both magical and mundane. After some consideration, he pursued the source of the sensation, gradually becoming aware of a difference between himself and the matter of the place he was residing in, as if he were just slightly out of phase with everything else in this place.
Contemplating what he had learned about the various planes of existence, he realized with a start that he was no longer in his own plane of reality, and that things felt alien to him because of that fact. Having experienced the lower planes of existence while fighting demons at one point in his long life, he knew this place felt nothing like the harsh and sharp-edged reality of the lower planes. Considering that fact, he determined that, somehow, the portal had translated him not only in space, but also to a higher plane of reality where he didn’t quite belong. Still, the Asrai had adapted to the higher planes of reality, becoming the gods of the current age. Farwalker decided that if they could, so could he.
This time, he watched the flow of energies as he attempted to raise handfire again. The energies flowed towards him, but as they began to coalesce into the form his will required, they began to fall apart, the energy flowing away as quickly as it had begun to form. The druid began to experiment with the energies and gradually saw a pattern emerge from his hours of experiments. Considering what he had seen, Farwalker again tried the handfire spell, but this time, he approached the execution of the controlling energy in a slightly different fashion, just barely different from what he knew, forcing his mind to work with the slippery magical energy in a new and different way. This time, when the dark druid opened his eyes, a ball of lime green handfire gently glowed above the palm of his hand.
Grinning like a schoolboy who had just mastered a new skill, Farwalker stood and tried a new spell, this time a spell of concealment that would not only hide his physical form, but also muffle his footsteps and his scent. Feeling the spell settle into place, he began moving towards the treasure chamber once again, confident that he could control his magic again. Slowly, the dark being moved across the floor of the treasure chamber until, after an hour of agonizingly slow movement, he found himself less than an arms length from his prize, which glittered in the failing light of the oculus.
Knowing dragonkind, and how attached they were to their treasure, the druid was certain there would be other traps around the mace. Extending his mind towards the pedestal, he examined the mace and its stand and was concerned when he found no trace of an alarm spell, no trace of illusion or concealment, and no hint of a link to the sleeping drake behind him. Cautiously, Farwalker extended magical control and raised the mace, bracing himself for the worst. When nothing occurred and the mace was in his hands, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief before turning to leave.
The druid made it as far as the portal of the doorway and was beginning to relax when, without warning, the doors themselves erupted in a cacophony of sound, a screaming of such fury he was, momentarily, frozen in place. Realizing his error in not checking the doorway for an alarm spell, he began running as quickly as his feet would carry him, even as he heard the crashing sound of the mountainous dragon beginning to stir behind him. Without stopping, he cast a shield spell behind him, hoping it would work in this alien place. Mere moments later, the screaming alarm was joined by a roar of fury as the dragon realized what had happened.
The chamber doors were shouldered aside as the dragon roared, “Thief!” after the sound of his retreating feet. Farwalker felt, before he saw, the wall of flame that shot past him even as he shot from the branch tunnel into the main passage. Glad his shield spell had held, the dark druid raced down the tunnel, now lit by regular blasts of dragon fire, and shaken with a rhythmic pounding as the furious dragon pursued his treasure and the being that had the temerity to steal it.
Opening himself to sense the location of a portal whose energy signature was slightly out of phase with its surroundings, Farwalker raced to the portal and stepped on, engaging the portal link even as the jaws of the massive dragon snapped closed on empty space where, mere seconds earlier, its senses had pinpointed the foul thief. Knowing the thief had escaped and that he could not follow, the dragon roared its impotent fury, and stalked back to its lair.
After enduring another evening whose isolation was broken only by the arrival of the evening meal, a steak of something resembling beef, fried potatoes (even if they were green this time), and a salad of mixed greens that was far spicier than expected, the third trial began in similar fashion to the first two. Once in the testing chamber, Farwalker Redbush waited to see if there would be instructions this time, and when a plainly unhappy Brother Nodulan merely waved him towards the third transfer portal, the druid wasted no time or effort engaging in pleasantries. Binding the energies of the portal together, this time, the druid found himself adrift in a white nothingness, freezing cold, and completely without any frame of reference.
Finding his lungs burning, Redbush knew he had mere moments to live. This meant his first and immediate priority had to be to stabilize his environment before he could worry about finding his way back to the abbey. Reaching out and finding magical energy available, the druid mentally murmured an incantation creating a protective bubble about his physical form, using the energy to create a breathable atmosphere, a solid floor to stand upon, and warmth that radiated inward from the walls of the bubble.
Drawing a ragged breath, Farwalker collapsed to the floor of the earthlike bubble he had just created, content, for the moment, to simply be alive. As his frozen body returned to something approaching a normal temperature, the dark druid assumed a lotus position and focused on how to get back to the abbey. Centering himself, he began to explore his surroundings with his magical senses. What he quickly discovered was that this place was completely unlike any realm he had ever encountered in his long life, as it appeared to be composed of raw energy. A simple thought enabled him to create and enjoy a goblet of his favorite chilled white chardonnay, and while learning this might keep him comfortable, he found nothing in the way of a physical reference point, and therefore, nothing he could use to navigate back to the portal location he entered from.
Farwalker then decided to see if his passage could be traced via the residual energy he carried with himself from the portal. If the trail of energy was there, he could simply follow the thread of energy path back out, using it like a guideline. Cheered at this thought, he began looking for a thread of energy leading from his physical self, and was pleased to find it almost immediately. Unfortunately, the thread only led a matter of feet before eddies and currents in the surrounding energy flows tore the thread apart, scattering and absorbing the alien energy.
Farwalker slumped in his bubble, casting about for ideas. Each was analyzed and discarded for one reason or another, until he came to the conclusion the effort was a waste of time. Oddly enough, that thought triggered the memory of an old spell that could rewind time locally, but only a matter of hours. Attempting to go beyond that limitation nearly always resulted in the death of the spell caster, as doing so drained the user’s magical resources to the dregs. Despite not knowing how long he had been in the void, Farwalker reasoned he must take the chance, as no other idea he had considered even came close to applying to the situation he found himself in.
Reaching into the inner pocket of his robe, Farwalker drew forth his spell book, and searched for the spell in question. Finding it, he scanned the complicated incantation before beginning. Once he was comfortable, he began the cantrip, even as he gathered the energy necessary to reverse the flow of the local timeline. The energy flow outside his protective bubble began to roil and froth with the influx of energy being drawn into such a small area, gradually beginning to glow with heat as the energy concentrated itself. The heat began to radiate into the bubble, causing its sole occupant to sweat profusely, but despite the heat, the dark druid continued with his incantation, knowing he was only going to get one chance at this.
As the roiling matrix of energy reached a white hot peak, Farwalker released his spell, the unleashed energy rapidly spinning the protective bubble along, retracing its course as time flowed in reverse. Inside the bubble, the dark druid was tossed about as the bubble rode the energy currents, making its occupant vaguely nauseas with motion sickness. At last, however, Farwalker saw a flash of light as a portal manifested itself in this realm for a moment, disgorging its occupant into the void and beginning to fade. Desperate, Farwalker incanted a line of sight teleportation spell and literally hurled himself onto the fading portal, which stabilized its position once it had an occupant again.
Freezing outside the protection of his bubble, Farwalker again reached out and bound together the energies that flared to life and transported him from the void and back onto the third transfer portal in the testing chamber of the abbey once again. Cold, shivering, and bedraggled, with ice melting in his hair, he glanced at his extremely surprised guards. Seeing their astonishment, he locked gazes with Brother Nodulan and, through chattering teeth, stated, “I guess you didn’t think I’d make it back from that one, now did you?”
Farwalker didn’t attempt the fourth and final trial the next day, taking full advantage of the day of rest he was entitled to. In fact, it was only due to a steady stream of healers and an equally steady stream of hot meals that enabled him to make the attempt at all. Despite his best efforts to restore his energy levels, he found his legs were trembling like a newborn colt’s by the time he made it up the stairs to the testing chamber. Still, the chamber was warded and Farwalker made his slow way towards the final transfer portal. Brother Mikal stopped him with a hand to the chest, “Farwalker Redbush, we want it known that, under other circumstances, we would have been proud to have you as a member of our order, and as a friend. You have shown yourself to be an intelligent, creative, and powerful practitioner of the ars magica.”
Farwalker glanced at the other occupants of the room and found heads nodding in agreement with Brother Mikal. “Farwalker Redbush, if you search well, you will find what you seek on this test. The portal in the final test room will return you home, so while we cannot wish you well, we can say we have been honored to have met you. You have been an honorable adversary.”
Having said what he wanted, Brother Mikal stood aside and allowed the dark druid to proceed to the final portal. This time, however, he turned to face the monks and raised his hand in farewell, before binding the energies of the portal to his destination.
Having learned something from his previous trial, Farwalker Redbush had taken a deep breath before leaving the abbey. This fact undoubtedly saved his life. The final place he materialized on was a world whose atmosphere was frigid cold ammonia, a gas clearly poisonous to any humanoid life form. This was the secondary consideration on the mind of the dark druid, however, as he suddenly found he weighed roughly six times his normal weight. Working through an incantation to be able to breath was a major undertaking and moving became a massive and nearly impossible effort.
Once able to breathe again, Farwalker cast his gaze about, looking for the Xendon stone. A hundred paces ahead, carved into a rack face, was the serenely glowing stone he sought. Even at this distance, the stone radiated with the essence of the god Mecaii, clearly marking the stone as his objective. Farwalker took a step towards the stone and nearly collapsed with the effort. He resolved to attempt a summoning spell and cast it towards the stone, but it merely glowed a bit brighter for a moment, and was otherwise unaffected.
Seeing there was only one way to achieve his objective, the dark druid reached deep inside for strength and concentrated on simply putting one foot in front of the other, not attempting any long strides, moving like a mountain climber at altitude. The distance was slowly whittled away as he toiled his way forward, each step more difficult than the last. Finally, he made the supreme effort of reaching forth his hands and picked up the fist sized stone which, despite its small size, still weighed what felt like twenty pounds.
Farwalker attempted to turn and retrace his steps, but his leaden limbs refused to cooperate, and he collapsed to the rocky ground, the stone clasped tightly in both hands. Slowly, the druid fought his way back to a standing position, and began the slow and agonizing trip back to the portal. Long before reaching his destination, the weight and pressure began taking their toll, with black spots dancing before his tired eyes, and his muscles trembling with the effort.
At long last, after a tortuous trip that had every muscle screaming in pain like unto an abscessed tooth, an exhausted dark druid reached the portal, where he paused to gather his strength before attempting the trip home. Power flowed into the druid, but at a much slower pace than normal, extending his agony with each passing second. Finally, at the limit of his endurance and having built sufficient power levels from the minimal life on the frigid planet, the druid bound the energies together with a sigh of relief.
As he vanished from a world that had not seen a humanoid presence in all the long centuries since Brother Nodulan and Vindayin had placed the Xendon stone in its resting place there on Nodulan’s home world, its local residents stirred themselves and began conversing about the visitation in their deep gravelly voices so reminiscent of the sound of massive stones grinding together.