Unpredictable Fortunes (The Memory Stone Series Book 3) Read online

  “I better learn before I have to face Donal,” Theus spoke in a softer voice. “You didn’t have a great deal of luck helping me when I was in Southsand, around Donal. I recollect you found his black magic to be strong and powerful.”

  “We’re talking about you, not me,” the Voice said primly.

  “Now, try again. Reach deeper, and make sure you truly grasp the energy within you as you transfer it to your wish,” it instructed him.

  Theus edged over towards the fringe of the roadway, where the dirt and gravel and weeds all merged with one another away from the center of the road, and he closed his eyes again, so that he could focus on reaching deep into his soul to accomplish what his implanted memories and the Voice both told him to do.

  He let his mind go deep into his psyche, back down to the place where his own life energy resided. Was it prudent to touch the power there, he wondered momentarily. He’d seen what had happened to the victims of Donal’s touch, when the wizard had consumed a portion of the life energy from those unfortunate captives. But he wouldn’t do that to himself, he was sure. White magic would not allow him to harm himself so severely – the Voice would have warned him.

  Theus found the window that provided the strange access to his life force – was it the place where death could or would enter his soul someday, he idly wondered for a moment.

  The newly minted white magician grasped the power and willed it to come forward, to leave the confines of its nature place. He brought his life force forward into the moment when he wanted to use it, then combined it with the wish he had, his desire to move forward, his spell and command to carry him a great length. He melded the two together, wish and the way, then he released them as he took his next step on the dusty road next to the river.

  He found himself in a different place. It was a moment of exhilaration – he had managed to control the white magic! And he found that he didn’t feel exhausted, as he might have expected to; it was not the consuming use of power that he had expected to leave him weak and tired. He felt fresh, so fresh that he turned and looked in all directions surveying the territory around him, wishing that there was someone present to see his victory.

  As he looked about, his face lost its triumphant expression, and took on a look of puzzlement, and then disappointment.

  The landscape was little changed from what he had been surrounded by just before his attempt at the use of the magic. He saw the same hills on the horizon, and even the same farmstead home on top of one hill, though he had at least traveled far enough that it was slightly behind him instead of slightly in front.

  “I could have walked this far in ten minutes!” he exclaimed out loud.

  “Yes, you could have,” the Voice agreed in a deceptively mild tone.

  “This is hopeless! I’m never going to control this,” Theus stewed.

  “You have to practice. Keep trying. You’re going to improve with every effort you make,” the invisible companion was encouraging him.

  “I’ll try,” Theus harrumphed, desperately wanting to believe that he was just a moment from finding success, a moment from finding some door open that would make the magical powers simple and easy, just as healing remedies had become so simple and easy.

  Although that had actually required hours and hours of studying the ancient memory stone he had found in Falstaff’s shop, he contradicted himself by remembering.

  He walked determinedly back to the road, which his efforts had taken him a hundred yards away from, and he let his mind focus one more time on the process of finding his personal energy, then applying it to his desire to travel. He focused on the energy within himself, and he wrestled and wrung and let no other matter affect his soul’s focus, then he single-mindedly applied that energy to his expectation to move forward.

  He took his step, and the landscape changed around him once again.

  But the same farmhouse was still in view, more distant, but still no more than a half hour’s walk further past.

  “This isn’t easy!” Theus exploded. “There’s no way this really works! I’d like to see someone who’s really used this white magic.

  “The reason there are no white magicians is because there’s nothing you can do with white magic!” he shouted in frustration. “It doesn’t do anything besides stupid tricks to entertain the crowds at festivals. And it probably only entertains the drunkards at that!”

  “Take a step forward,” the voice told him, as he walked back to the road surface one more time.

  And then suddenly, he was in a different place, with different looking hills, and clouds in place of the bright blue sky he had previous walked beneath.

  “What happened?” Theus asked in astonishment.

  “I used white magic to move you one day’s walk forward,” the Voice answered. “See, it does work.

  “Now,” his instructor said, “let’s move you back and see what you can do.”

  And Theus was suddenly back on the road by the farm house on the hill, under the blue sky.

  “What happened?” Theus asked.

  “I put you back where you were. Now it’s your turn to make the step forward,” the Voice answered.

  “Well, that was stupid,” Theus fumed. “Why send me backwards? I’m supposed to be hurrying to get to Amelia, remember? That’s the whole point of why I’m using this magic, why I took that stone from Coriae’s ring, why I gave up my whole future and the woman I love.”

  “Don’t be bitter. You’re doing the right thing,” the Voice said mercilessly. “Now try again to see if you can do better.”

  And so Theus tried again, and again, and again. Each effort produced slightly further progressions, but by the early afternoon he was too frustrated to try any further.

  “If you can manage a full day’s travel in a single step, I will add another day’s travel to it,” the Voice resorted to bribery.

  “I’m going to do it,” Theus careened from his sense of defeatism to a steely determination to prove his ability, and to reap the reward.

  He proceeded to try again, and then again. Neither of the white magic movements succeeded in accomplishing a full day’s travel.

  “Why can’t I do this?” he yelled.

  “What do you imagine you’re traveling for?” the Voice finally asked.

  “What am I traveling for? What does it matter?” he responded in annoyance.

  “Perhaps you could better harness your energy if you knew what you are expending it on,” the invisible being offered.

  “I’m traveling for the purpose of showing I can do this?” Theus asked more than he answered.

  “Can’t your soul tell itself what the purpose is of your travel?” The Voice challenged him.

  “Well, it’s to get from one place to another as quickly as possible,” Theus sputtered.

  “Is that all?” the Voice asked.

  “It’s to go to aid Princess Amelia. She needs help,” Theus said more firmly, sure that he was giving the right answer, the factually correct answer.

  “Is that all?” the Voice asked again.

  “What more do you want?” Theus asked through gritted teeth.

  “Oh,” he muttered in a softer tone a moment later, as a broader interpretation occurred to him. “It’s to do the right thing. It’s to help someone who deserves my help. And it’s to fight against the evil of Donal.”

  “The evil of Donal and Ind’Petro,” the Voice modified his answer. “Very good.

  “Remind yourself. You’re not trying to use this energy just for your own sake. This isn’t a vanity trip. This trip is for something bigger, something bigger than yourself, or any few people. This is about principles that allow all people to live life with freedom from many threats.”

  Theus listened to the high-sounding reinterpretation of his journey. The Voice made it sound as if he were a hero, doing something above and beyond his own actual motives. In fact, the Voice made him sound heroic and selfless. And, he told himself, in a way he was.

 
He really did want to help Amelia. He really did want to defeat Donal and Ind’Petro. He really did want all people to have better lives. He didn’t want anyone to ever live in miserable poverty, or have to sell their children into slavery. He could prevent it, if he really could master the white magic, and make the long journey, and save Amelia, then figure out more to do from there.

  He focused again on his personal energy, the energy that he wanted to spend on pursuing safety and justice for the world. Using that determination, he pulled his energy forward and upward and melded it to his goal of traveling, as he stepped forward on the road.

  And his step landed in a place that was overcast, and on top of a hill, looking down at the relatively distant river valley far to his left. He felt exhausted, and his shoulders sagged.

  “That was very well done,” the Voice complimented him. “You certainly achieved your maximum success with that step forward.

  “Behold world!” the Voice spoke mockingly, except that there was no hint of mockery as the Voice seemed to make a formal declaration in a strong voice. “A new White Magician has arisen! The truth keepers of old have returned to the world! There is a power to balance and defend against the lies and pain of black magic again!”

  The words were inspiring, Theus thought. But he felt completely drained from the instantaneous use of a day’s worth of his energy.

  “How can a white magician do anything after taking a step like that?” he asked.

  “Many couldn’t do very much else,” the Voice replied. “The best learned ways to compensate. In time, perhaps you will too.”

  “Where can I rest? Where’s the nearest village?” Theus asked. “No, wait. I’d like for you to give me the extra day of travel you promised now please, and then I can rest someplace.”

  “Move forward then,” the Voice instructed.

  Theus took another step, and was suddenly standing in a light rain, in the middle of an open pasture.

  “Where is the nearest village?” Theus asked, in a hurry to find shelter from the moisture.

  “About ten miles behind you,” the Voice answered.

  “Humph,” the boy snorted. “How far ahead is the next village?”

  “There is a shepherd’s camp fifty miles ahead. These are empty lands. There are no cities. There are no villages. There are very few people.”

  Theus looked at the sun, which was exposed in a sliver of open sky very close to the western horizon. A grove of trees was within sight, an easy walk, but less easy after the effort of using the white magic for the first time.

  He began to tread determinedly towards the trees, keeping his head bent and the rain out of his eyes.

  “How long will it take for me to reach Amelia?” he asked.

  “At the rate of a day’s travel every day, probably two weeks, possibly three,” came the answer.

  “How can that be? She’s captive of Donal!” Theus’s voice rose in pitch. “She said in the last dream that he’s used her once. In another month of having her life energy sucked away, she’ll be an old woman, or dead

  “You’ve got to give me more help. Send me forward another day’s worth of distance,” Theus demanded.

  “No,” the Voice replied

  “I’m trying to save her. I’m trying because of you,” Theus spoke forcefully. “Now you’re saying that you’re not going to help me do your work?”

  “I’m saying there are limits to what I can yet do,” the Voice said evenly. “I hope someday that I will do more, but that time, when and if it comes, is not yet here. I have stretched my abilities already.

  “But you have not,” it added.

  Theus reached the verge of the woodlot, and felt a lessening of the wind, as the trees and their branches broke the force of the strong breezes that drove the rain.

  “You said I can only travel one day’s worth of travel a day. I’m going to need a month to travel a month’s worth of travel,” Theus knew his words sounded convoluted and circular, but he’d had a point to make, and he’d made it hurriedly.

  “I didn’t say that precisely. If you go a few yards to your right, there’s a hollow tree that will protect you from the rain,” the Voice advised.

  Theus turned. “You did say that,” he rebutted. “A day’s travel takes a day’s energy. You said it.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t carry out more than one day’s travel in a single day,” the Voice shocked him. Theus reached the hollow tree and entered the cozy cavity, then turned to face outward. He dropped to a sitting position on the damp pile of soft rotten wood in the center of the cavity floor.

  “That would drain me!” Theus said, stunned by the suggestion. “Wouldn’t it?” he asked uncertainly.

  “There have been heroes in the past who traveled two or even three days’ worth of travel in a single day,” the Voice told him. “Prince Patria crossed the Wallchick Mountains in two days when he returned to fight the demon spawn of the north.

  “But you are brand new to all of this. Tomorrow we will work on a single day’s travel, and then perhaps you can begin to learn the other tools as well. You will need more than just the first step.”

  “Let’s start tonight,” Theus countered. “Teach me something tonight.”

  “What would you like to learn?” the Voice responded.

  “I don’t know what I can learn. Can you teach me a spell to bind Donal in chains? Can I make knives fly at him out of thin air?” Theus thought of his most urgent need, the need to defeat the deadly magician on Ind’Petro.

  “Such deadliness is not typical of how white magic is used. Consider something more positive, such as producing light,” the Voice decided to provide direction.

  The world inside his forest glade was growing dark, as the sun set in the rainy evening. “Light would be useful,” Theus agreed amiably.

  “Light is all around you,” the Voice began to lecture. Theus looked at the gloom, disapproving of the assessment.

  “Not much,” he corrected the Voice.

  “You’re sitting on light. You’re wearing light. You’re being housed by light. All these things, even your own body, are largely the result of sunlight falling upon the world. The Great Creator enabled the plants of the world to take the light and store it away, turned into leaves and roots and stems and fruits. And in turn, the animals take that reshaped light, and it becomes fur and muscle and bone and skin.

  “This tree,” the Voice said, “it would not grow and produce wood were it not storing light.”

  “Okay,” Theus interrupted what sounded like the beginning of a long lecture. “But what does that have to do with my white magic?”

  “It has to do with all white magic. It provides the structure for your life energy. And it is light. It is really the easiest of the white magic tools to use. Simply imagine the source of the light, the sunlight, and imagine it is like steam turned to water when it is your life force. You simply cause it to return to its natural state when you release it,” the Voice said.

  Theus’s mind wandered down a side path.

  What about the black magic of Donal and his companions? What do they do with the light? Do they use it, or do they use something else?” he asked.

  “Ah, such a perceptive question. It is far afield from the subject, of course,” the reply came softly.

  “They use the light, but they suffer. It is alien to the demonic plane – in fact, it is harmful to the demons. The irony that they must use light to carry out their evil plans only increases their angry and sullen ways. But their minions, the black magicians, must suffer the pain of causing light energy to pass through their dark paths. It is painful, and it is inefficient. They must use a great deal more energy than a white magician in order to carry out their tasks. And thus they must prey upon so many victims,” the Voice had managed to deliver a lecture, but Theus hadn’t cut it off; the topic had been fascinating.

  “Donal looked pained at times when he was taking power,” Theus blurted out.

  “I imagi
ne so, especially when I was able to intervene to make your energy particularly light-infused and painful for him,” the Voice concurred.

  “So, now that it is virtually dark, would you like to raise some light?” the Voice returned to the topic of the lesson.

  “I suppose,” Theus felt suddenly tired. He’d had a long day. And although he’d only made one complete day jump through space, he’d also made a number of smaller steps, each of which had required the expenditure of some amount of his energy.

  “Go back to your source of energy,” the Voice directed. “Focus within yourself on your power, and then think of that power as light. Follow the formula in the spell in your head.”

  Theus let his mind sift through the memories he had received, and he allowed the spell for light creation to guide him, as he mentally followed the steps and preparations, once again guiding his soul to the source of his inner power. He gently grasped the power for this spell – the purpose was not challenging, not a great consumer of his life force. With the small amount that he was able to easily take under his control, he imagined it as the spell that the Voice suggested; he imagined the substantial stuff of his energy devolving back to its fundamental component, light energy. And then he imagined and directed that it exhibit itself from his fingertip.

  He looked in wonder as his fingertip began to glow with a steady light. “This is wonderful,” he murmured appreciatively. “I can really do this,” he felt pleased with himself.

  “Yes, now get your rest. Tomorrow is another day,” the Voice said calmly.

  The soothing words reminded Theus of how tired he was. He let the light at his fingertip fade away, then he shut his eyes, and he listened to the rain drops endlessly striking the ground all around him, as he descended quickly into sleep.

  Chapter 2

  When Theus awoke, he felt a crick in his neck, from sleeping at an odd angle inside the hollow forest tree he had been guided to for shelter. The rain had stopped falling during the night. In the dim light under the forest branches, Theus could see puddles of water sitting among the detritus of the forest floor.

  “I don’t want to have to splash through that,” he told himself as he stood up, looking out while firmly massaging his neck to reduce the discomfort.