Robert Newcomb - The Scrolls of the Ancients

"Was all this left here by the Ones?" he asked.

"All things of magic are a direct result of either the Ones or the Heretics," she answered simply. "Or of what came even before them-namely the two glowing orbs of the craft. The bright, golden Orb of the Vigors and the dark, sizzling Orb of the Vagaries forever power the twin but opposite sides of magic, always attracting each other, but never touching. Surely by now you have learned to call them into your presence, and have witnessed their majesty and power. Nonetheless there remains much for you to learn. Not only of the craft, but of those masters and their orbs who were here so long before you."

Faegan bent over to study the pool. "And the items I require to separate my herbs, roots, blossoms, and oils-are they here in this pool?" he asked. There were several beautiful plants lying atop the water. But despite his great knowledge, he had to admit that he had never seen any of them before. He could feel the water calling out to his endowed blood. Even as learned and disciplined as he was, he found its allure intoxicating, its entreaty irresistible. His breath coming quickly, his mind nearly overcome, he let his hand creep closer to the pool.

"Stop, you fool!" the watchwoman screamed, just as his fingers were about to break the surface of the water. With amazing speed and surprising strength, she grabbed his wrist with her white, lifeless hand. Stunned, he looked up into the dark, faceless hood.

"What's wrong?" he asked thickly.

Letting go of him, she raised the bones of her hand directly before his eyes.

"Tell me, wizard," she said caustically, "how do you suppose I came to be this way? Do you wish to suffer the same fate?"

And then he understood. The azure waters here in the Chambers of Penitence were so powerful that they were literally toxic, and eons ago her endowed blood had caused her to succumb to the same temptations he had just experienced. She had paid for her mistake with the flesh of her hands, perhaps even with that of her entire body. And so the Ones had somehow asked that she stay here for eternity, to help safely guide other supplicants in their quests.

Saddened for her and humiliated for himself, he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't understand."

"Nor did I, once," she answered back. For a few moments the only sound was the trickling of the water into the glowing pools.

"This is indeed the pool that holds what you require," she finally said. "But for obvious reasons, it shall be neither you nor I who harvest it."

She raised both her staff and her free hand into the air. "Come to me, my pretties," she ordered.

Faegan heard a grating sound coming from the wall behind them. As he turned to look, he saw that one of the holes in the wall had stopped pouring forth its water and was widening dramatically, until it was a full meter in diameter.

A bird popped its head out of the hole, cautiously looked around, and finally took to the air. Three more appeared, and they began to circle overhead. Faegan watched, spellbound. He had never seen anything like them.

The multicolored birds glowed with the azure of magic. Their necks were long and graceful, as were their wide, brightly feathered tails. They stood on long, spindly legs, like storks, but their shiny bodies were more compact, and their feet were webbed and yellow, like those of a duck. They had gullets beneath their long, wide bills, such as one might see on birds that lived near the ocean and fed on fish. The watchwoman slowly lowered her hands. As she did, the creatures landed gently, one by one, next to Faegan's chair and stood there obediently, as if waiting for the watchwoman to speak.

But she did not utter a word. Instead, she pointed to the pool and the birds walked into it and began to swim carefully through the plants, using their long, wide bills to harvest leaves and flowers and stems. Faegan marveled at their quiet, elegant efficiency.

Reaching into her robe, the watchwoman produced a glass vial with a hinged top. Opening it, she handed it down to one of the birds. The bird took it into its bill, the open side of the vial facing away from its head. Then it dipped the vial into the water, collecting the light green oil that lay in another part of the pool.

After a little while, the birds made their way back out of the glowing pool and, one by one, came to drop their treasures at the wizard's feet. With a sure, slow motion of its head, the bird that had collected the oil put down the vial and shut the lid with its bill.

Smiling broadly, Faegan looked back up at the watchwoman. "How is it that they are not affected by the waters, as you were?"

"Simple," she replied. "They are a product of the Ones, placed here for just this purpose. After my tragedy, the Ones conjured them and left them here to help me harvest the bounty of the floating gardens. They have been my only companions ever since." She then looked back at them and nodded.

One by one they took to the air and flew back through the hole in the wall. The opening returned to its original size, and water began spilling out from the hole once more. Faegan looked down at the treasures lying at his feet.

"May I touch them now?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "They are still wet, and are just as dangerous as ever." The watchwoman reached into her robe again and removed a small, azure-glowing bag. She opened it and held it wide before the wizard.

"Use your gift to place the plants and vial into this bag," she told him. "It will protect your flesh from them until you arrive home. It is also enchanted to absorb the water and render it harmless. Later you will be able to touch them. I have cast a spell of accelerated drying over the herbs; they will be usable soon."

Hearing that such a remarkable spell existed, Faegan was almost overwhelmed by curiosity and the desire to learn, but he managed to drag his attention back to the situation at hand. Doing as she bade him, he focused on the plants and vial and, using the craft, caused them to levitate. They slowly entered the bag, and the watchwoman pulled the cinch tight. She placed the bag on Faegan's lap.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "You have no idea how much you have just helped preserve the practice of the Vigors."

"Your gratitude is not important now," she said. "It is time for you to leave this place and make use of what I have given you. Do not fail, and do not waste what you have been given. There is only enough to make one attempt to separate your herbs and oils. Time is precious."

His mind racing, Faegan looked down at the bag. "And how do I use these gifts?" he asked.

"First make sure the herbs have completely dried. This will require several more days, at least. Then grind them into a fine powder. Mix the powder deeply within your stores, and watch from a distance. Before you do, however, make sure there are sufficient containers waiting nearby. All will be revealed. The oil, however, may be used to separate your other oils right away."

Faegan looked at Wigg, who still lay unconscious in the boat.

"Given Wigg's current condition, I may not be able to levitate him all the way back to the surface," he said, thinking of the narrow, confined stairway they had taken here.

"The Ones understood that anyone who was fortunate enough to survive this place would not possess the strength to leave on their own," she said simply. "There is another way out." She raised her arms.

Light began to flood down from the ceiling, forming a bright, white circle on the floor of the chamber. "Bring the other wizard with you into the light," she said.

Faegan placed the bag she had given him securely in his robe. Then he levitated Wigg's inert body up to his lap and floated his chair into the circle of light. As he did, the white light turned to azure, and his chair began to revolve.