One Who Knows

What can one man do by himself? Even the strongest of men would tire and falter against an army were he alone. Even the most eloquent and persuasive of speakers cannot be everywhere. Even the most determined of men cannot climb a tall wall without help.

The One Who Masters Magic will not stand alone, but will have others with him to guide, protect, and help him in all that he must do.

— Contemplations Upon Prophecies Concerning the Master of Magic by Sage De

Thwrud
Subeleth
October 3

They rode like the wind.

Syler was astonished at how powerful and endurable the hasuan was. Even in the forests, well away from open fields, the magnificent animal was able to travel at speeds that would put even the fastest racehorse to shame. At first, it was startling to see the huge branches and tree trunks zipping by as nothing more than green and brown blurs. He kept expecting to run into one of them and end up flying through the air and landing in a broken heap on the forest floor. As the hours went by, he got used to it and came to enjoy the wind in his face.

Something he noticed fairly quickly was that riding on the back of a hasuan was far smoother than on horseback. If he couldn't feel the wind on his face and see the trees flying past, he would have thought he was on a horse moving at a leisurely walk. The back was a little wider than a horse which made it slightly uncomfortable for him, but as the hours wore on, he was getting used to it. Since there wasn't as much jostling around, he wasn't as sore or worn even after four hours of riding.

The Krue warrior riding with them remained silent. Syler tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he said nothing in return. After a few attempts, he began to wonder if the warrior even spoke the Common Tongue. Since Bronwyn was still unconscious, he had nobody to talk to. On occasion, he could see other Kruish riders, but they didn't follow any formation or path that he could decipher and faded in and out of the organic tapestry that surrounded them.

Last night, they broke camp in a small hollow that, judging by the fire pit and supply of wood and food, was a frequent resting place for the Krue. None of the Krue spoke to him, though one gave him some food and tossed him a knapsack with water and a thick blanket since his was left on his horse back at the edge of the forest. He tried to find Vekla, but she was nowhere to be seen and the other Krue were of no help. With nothing else to do, he tended to Bronwyn as best as he could before curling up next to her under the blanket and going to sleep.

The next day started early and didn't let up for hours. He occasionally caught a flash of Vekla's armor and hair, but never for long. All of the Krue seemed to take their own paths through the forest. That such a tactic didn't end up in disaster was probably due to the rumored intelligence of the hasuan themselves. He didn't see the warrior in front of him doing much directing during their journey. He seemed to be mostly at ease if not outright enjoying the trip.

At last, they entered a large clearing and slowed to a light trot. Syler could see a small city in front of them with thin wafts of smoke coming from hundreds of chimneys. Surrounding the city for at least a mile were fields of crops with a few outlying buildings that were probably storehouses or farmhouses. The other Krue seemed to materialize out of the forest next to them, though nobody said anything.

Vekla rode up to the front of the group and led them into the city. Syler had never seen anything like this place, even when he went into See Sei. Unlike everywhere he had been, wood was the primary source of building materials. Having grown up in the prairies and hills of what the Easterners called the Near West, wood was not very plentiful so it was only sparingly used. There was wood to be had for crafting, fire, and making some support beams, but to build a structure entirely out of wood was a luxury that only the most wealthy of aristocrats could afford. Most of the buildings where he was from were made from clay bricks or stone which were plentiful. Here in the forest, wood was easy and readily available so it made sense for the Krue to build their cities out of it.

As they went through the city, Syler was in awe of the giant log cabins. Some were made from whole logs stacked on top of each other. The rest, most noticeably the smaller structures, were made from wood planks that had been sawed and nailed up. In front of almost every structure was an ornately crafted totems that sometimes rose up to twenty feet into the air. They seemed to generally be a giant log that had been erected and hammered into the ground so they stood up almost like a branchless and leafless tree. Into that log were carved animals, people, what might have been words, and various scenes. Somehow, Syler was reminded of the stone panels of the Temple tower in Kubei, except these scenes were not scary or disturbing like those were.

At some houses, there were stables custom fit to house hasuan. He didn't see any larger stables and wondered if that meant that each warrior kept their mount close to home. Some of the stables seemed to be extremely well stocked with various bedding and even stone ovens for heating. It struck him that the Krue probably took extremely good care of their hasuan, better than even royal horses were elsewhere.

The people, though, were even more strange. Instead of wearing cloth like he did, they wore mostly leather and furs. Almost everyone openly carried a weapon, usually a long knife or small axe, even the children. The most disturbing thing about them was that each of them from the old to the young looked as fierce as the warriors who had escorted them in. As the warriors entered, they all looked up and called out names or greetings in their own tongue. It was a very friendly reception and Syler wondered how many of these warriors actually lived here or if this was how they greeted all arriving warriors.

At last, they stopped in front of a particularly large log cabin and dismounted. The cabin was surrounded by dozens of carved posts like he had seen elsewhere. Giant torches burned outside even though it wasn't quite dark. The posts of the cabin were sanded down and polished with age and care that he hadn't seen in other structures. The double doors at the front were framed and studded in black iron with handles made in the likeness of hasuan heads, though none of the metal showed the signs of rust that most iron fixtures did. There were two guards with large war axes in hand guarding the door.

Vekla gave a few commands to the guards at the door and one of them went inside. A few moments later, he came back carrying a canvas stretcher before returning to his post. Vekla motioned for Syler to get Bronwyn on the stretcher and two of her warriors took either end of it. All but the two warriors carrying the stretcher remained outside while she led Syler inside. The cabin appeared to consist of a single room thirty feet wide and twice that length long and some smaller rooms connected to it. To his shock, in the middle of the front of the room floated a fireball that provided light and heat. Below it was a small pit of bare earth, but otherwise it was completely in the open. It was a feat of magic that Syler had never seen firsthand before and it left him in awe.

The rest of the cabin was devoted to two long tables with bench seats that stretched thirty feet. Several smaller fires between the two tables had various meats roasting on spits over them. The roof was rose to a sharp angle with the overlapping planks that made it up visible between the rafters and a covered hole for the smoke from the fires to escape.

At the back of the room was a small throne slightly raised above the rest of the tables. In it sat an older man who was consulting with a few others who looked like warriors but, considering the standard of dress he had seen outside, could be anything from shopkeepers to blacksmiths like him. The man was in his late fifties or early sixties and had the look of a warrior about him. His skin was taunt around his body and didn't sag while his muscles were still visible and had not atrophied. Despite sitting here now, he was clearly a man of action who had not yet passed into obsolescence like many of his age.

There were a few men and women sitting at the tables either eating or talking to each other. Some were dressed in open armor made of hardened tooled leather like what he had seen from the Kruish warriors that accompanied him here. They all seemed hardened and strong, even the women. Not one seemed overweight or underfed, but were healthy and hearty. Beyond the weaponry and strange firs that these men wore, something caught Syler's eye. All possessed flowing beards with some of them even braided or having leather thongs tying them.

Then, as his focus returned to the man at the throne, something stuck out to him. The man there had no beard or facial hair at all. Syler quickly searched his memory and realized that none of the Krue he had encountered so far had been clean shaven, but all wore a beard of at least an inch or two long. He hadn't noticed it before because he was so used to being around unshaven men from among the Kutii and Growald's men didn't have the time to shave while racing towards Subeleth.

His thoughts were refocused by a gentle but firm hand on the middle of his back guiding him forward.  Once he started moving, Vekla took the lead and led them behind one of the long tables toward the rear of the building where the man on the throne was. When they were about fifteen feet from him, she bid him stop with an upraised hand.

She then bowed her head reverently and waited to be acknowledged. The man sitting eyed Syler and Bronwyn for a few moments, then said something to her in their tongue. The two of them had a short conversation during which it seemed that Vekla was trying to convince him of something. After a couple of minutes of this, the man looked directly at Syler and said in the same thick accent that Vekla possessed, "Come, Syler Penion of Sandrin, let me gaze upon you."

Though he didn't want to leave Bronwyn unattended, Syler knew better than to defy this man. He stepped forward and allowed the older man to grab his hand. The man looked first at his palm and read it as if he could see words written upon it. Occasionally, he would nod or mutter to himself as he ran his fingers over the various creases in Syler's palm.

When he was satisfied, he looked straight into Syler's eyes and repeated the same hand gestures that Vekla had done after blasting him with a fireball. This man knew magic, Syler could see it in his eyes and the way they seemed to grow distant and glassy for a few moments as though he was seeing things that nobody else could. He wasn't exactly comfortable around wielders of magic slowly waving their hands an inch from his face, but he didn't dare say anything about it.

"So," the man said contemplatively, "it is true. The Majiyae Oretezu walks among us at last."

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fires. Everyone in the room who hadn't already been curious about this stranger among them was now staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and reproach.

"What does that mean, sir?" Syler asked, not really expecting to get a response.

The man stared at him and said something briefly to Vekla. She nodded and he frowned. "You know nothing of your role?"

Syler shook his head and decided to take a chance by being direct. "No, I don't. I am tired of people talking about me and I want some answers."

The man made a wheezing noise that made Syler think the man was sick until he realized it was simply the sound of his bemused laughter. "Fortas, patience, young one. There is time yet for you to learn. You are safe here and will be for as long as you need." In a louder voice clearly meant to be heard by all in the room, he said something in Kruish. The others in the room clasped their left hands to their chests and bowed their heads in response to whatever he said.

"By my order, you are welcome here as an honored guest of the Clan of Thwrud. I am Avenil Saekoris, Lord of Clan Thwrud. You will stay in my house as my personal guest."

Syler didn't speak for a few moments as he absorbed this. He wasn't familiar with the Krue's customs and wasn't sure exactly how to respond. Bronwyn took this opportunity to moan a little reminding him that he needed to touch her once more. He didn't want to offend Avenil, but he couldn't let his wife suffer.

He bowed his head and took a few steps backward so he could reach down and take Bronwyn's hand. "I am honored, Lord Saekoris, but it would be impossible for me to accept your hospitality while my wife and friends back at your border are excluded."

"Keezat yosere, well spoken, Syler Penion of Sandrin," said Lord Saekoris with a chuckle. "I respect a man who is loyal to his family and companions, even at the risk of angering a lord of the Krue by refusing his grace." He asked Vekla something in their language to which she replied. He looked back at Syler and said, "Very well, I extend my hospitality to those who came with you, provided none shall betray our generosity. Should any of them do so, it will be upon your head." He addressed those in the room and received the same response he had the first time.

Suddenly, Syler wasn't so sure he had made such a good move since he had no idea what Growald would try, but what was done was done. He would just have to keep Growald and his men in check or leave them to the Krue. Ultimately, only himself, Bronwyn, Havert, Alltis, and Lamastus mattered. "Thank you, Lord Saekoris. Now, could you please tell me what is going on?"

The lord smiled and motioned for him to sit down on the bench closest to his left hand. The men who were there saw this and quickly moved without hesitation so he had a place to sit. Once again, Syler was torn about how to navigate this situation. "Sir, I must be able to touch my wife. She has some sort of curse spell upon her and if I am not touching her for more than a few minutes, she will be wracked with pain so severe that it interrupts her even in unconsciousness."

"What are you speaking of?" Lord Saekoris asked.

"We were living in Kubei in Kutiim until recently," Syler hastily explained, though his attention was more on Bronwyn as she began to stir from the pain. "The Shalktra took her and tortured her for three days before I was able to get the help needed to break her and other women out. Once we escaped, we found that she had been cursed with a terrible spell that inflicts unmentionable pain on her."

The Kruish lord nodded in understanding. There was disgust in his voice when he said, "I have heard of such things before. Such natsteur things are usually only used by ka pustostil. Frendan with your story, I know there is more."

After a brief hesitation at the strange words, Syler responded, "I can temporarily remove the curse by touching her. Please, sir, allow me to do so now before the pain comes in force."

This elicited a small chuckle. Lord Saekoris gestured with an uplifted hand saying, "Nobody is preventing you from moving about freely, Syler Penion of Sandrin. You are my guest, none shall inhibit your movement."

Blinking a few times in surprise, Syler quickly went over to grab Bronwyn's hand. As expected, her fit subsided and she fell back into her usual deep slumber. The warriors holding the gurney remained silent, though they were watching him with curiosity.

Lord Saekoris got up from his chair and walked over to them and began to inspect her condition for himself. He felt her forehead and asked a few questions of Vekla. Syler, figuring that it wouldn't hurt, slowly lifted up Bronwyn's shirt so he could see the symbols etched into her skin. When they were visible, he heard Lord Saekoris whisper, "Snalv fendulchi." It did not sound like he was offering a complement to whomever placed the curse.

He stood up and sighed heavily. "A vile and insidious spell cast by one who went to considerable effort to place it upon her. Be cautious, Majiyae Oretezu, for many are your enemies and strong is their magic. Your devotion to her is admirable and will be honored. I will have healers brought here immediately to see if we cannot address her wounds."

"Thank you, sir," Syler said with genuine gratitude.

He issued several orders and someone went out to get the healers. Lord Saekoris sat down at the edge of the table and motioned for Syler to join him there. The two warriors laid Bronwyn's stretcher along the benches beside them so that Syler could still reach out and stroke her forehead even while sitting. Food and drink were set down in front of him and the Kruish lord motioned for him to eat.

While he was digging into the sizzling meats and hearty vegetables offered to him, the Krue spoke to him in a slower, more measured pace that allowed him to speak every word precisely. Clearly, what he was saying was important enough that he wanted to make sure Syler understood every word.

"It is time to allow you to see some of what role you will come to play in the world. Though it has yet to be confirmed, it is my belief that you are indeed the Majiyae Oretezu that has been spoken of for centuries. Let me explain some things for you since it seems you are almost entirely unaware.

"Nearly every culture has tales of the world coming to an end," Lord Saekoris said. "Some of these tales come from oral traditions. They become part of the culture of that people and thus are integrated into its society. Nobody really knows where these tales come from because they are just there. We could speculate that they come from a lone prophet or witch from the ancient years, but we do not know for sure. It could be part of our mortal human nature to expect that, since we ourselves must die, so also must the world itself.

"Some cultures simply accept these tales as nothing more than a myth designed to scare people or perhaps offer a good and fanciful tale. They consider these forecasts as nothing more than legends and mythology of no importance or truth. They scoff at the idea of something as old as the world itself simply dying out and concern themselves only with their lives, even when signs around them may point to a different fate.

"Other cultures take their tales from a more studied approach. They collect prophecies, test the future, and extrapolate from those things what they believe will come. I cannot say that this method is always failsafe as prophecy can be distorted and testing the future has not always produced accurate results, but there is a great deal of material out there that supports this method because they feel it is educated and enlightened with evidence to support their beliefs. Any who do not believe them are looked down upon as being uneducated and ignorant to the truth they alone can see.

"There are cultures that have taken a religious approach to the subject. They believe that their deities have decreed an end of everything but, at least with the benevolent ones, have provided a way for salvation for the faithful. The danger for them comes when they mix prophecy and their faith together and pour them into a mold that fits their religious beliefs. When they do that, they are able to interpret any prophecy the way they please and proclaim any who refuse to follow as heretics.

"Then there are those peoples who understand that there are forces at play in this world that are beyond mere mortal men and that it is those forces that determine everything. Mankind has many great strengths, but we are not all powerful. Occasionally, someone or even a group of people get it into their heads that mankind is the supreme entity in the universe and that nothing can stand in their way. Those sorts of people usually end up suffering a violent end as they are squashed by various forces, some of which cannot entirely be explained.

"The universe has a way of keeping man humble, and for most, they do not even see it. If someone builds a giant tower, they may believe themselves superior to all around them. Then, a storm comes and blows it down or it catches fire and burns to the ground and he is left ruined and humbled. It is no coincidence that so many of the greatest monuments of mankind's creation have been destroyed or lost to the ages. Every time man rises, something seems to bring them back down.

"Conversely, there are times when the humble are raised up and made strong when all around them would have never expected it. How many times in history have disheartened, poor, peasants somehow managed to gain the courage to snatch victory against overwhelming odds and liberate themselves from tyranny? How many times, when all hope seems lost and evil is dominating, has a new beacon of light shown through the darkness to lead a nation to salvation? Have you ever been at such a low point in life that you would have thought nothing could make life worth living, yet you receive some sort of sign that gives you hope? It is almost as though something out there wishes to test us and, when the time is right and we can bear no more, relief is provided and fortunes are reversed. Something is preventing man from getting too low and losing all hope.

"As mere mortals, we often attribute these unexplained changes in our fortunes or the fate of nations to supernatural and barely explained entities that defy nature and are greater than man could ever be. Some hate them, others fear them. Many worship them in the hope that they will escape punishment or receive boons from them.

"You know of some of the supernatural beings that are worshiped by man. The Sei, Kosh, and Sua believe in and follow the will of the Elements, beings of balance and stability who give and take away to ensure harmony. The Kutii, Krue, and Gope believe in the Spirits, generally benevolent beings who care for those who love them, but are very jealous towards those who do not. In the south, there are those who worship the Stoics, beings who demand the utmost discipline and restraint in all their followers do. In the Deep West, the tribal peoples believe that the Grifters walk among the weak and prey upon their souls. The Easterners worship the Tetrarchy as part of their so called Way.

"Most interestingly, and tying back to what I said earlier about balance, those who follow the Way believe that the universe must be kept in balance between good and evil, light and dark, purity and corruption. According to their lore, the world was once a perfect place with no evil or corruption. Their god, Featwel the Uniter, is said to possess the great Scales of Balance which require all things to be in harmony. Because of this, the perfection of the world was not sustainable forever and had to end because the scales were tipped too much toward the light and goodness. As the scales began to tip, evil entered the world and mortals—humanity—was created. At first, evil was minimal, but it has grown over the ages and is building up to a climax until, when the time has come, the Coming Darkness descends and the scales tip towards pure evil and the end of all that is good and pure. Those who follow the Way greatly fear this time and look to a savior to protect them and avert the disaster.

"So tell me, Syler Penion of Sandrin, which of these things are correct? Who understands the universe correctly? Who worships the true gods and who sees the truth, or do any of them?"

Syler wasn't sure exactly how to answer. He knew others believed in different things, but he had never really cared what they thought or who was right. He knew from personal experience that the Elements were real. That was why he had stayed true to them in the face of the Angvardi invasion and their forced conversions. All of this sounded pretty farfetched and slightly crazy. He had never been a philosopher, but preferred simple things that he could hold in his hands or see with his eyes. Somehow, though, he knew that would not be the answer that Lord Saekoris was looking for. This was a man who wanted the truth, so he would give it to him. "I don't know, sir," he said.

"That is a good answer," Lord Saekoris said. "Never be afraid to admit ignorance among the Krue. Questions are never shunned among the People, neither is the truth. The only time you would ever be punished is for pretending to know that which you do not or willfully refusing to learn the truth."
He leaned over toward Syler and gazed directly into his eyes. "I am here to tell you, Syler Penion of Sandrin, that they are all the truth. Those who worship the Spirits are just as right as those who worship the Way or the Elements. How can that be, you ask? Do they not contradict each other? I can see the doubt on your face as plain as day, but fear not, I will explain.

"Mankind is not alone in this world. There are immortal beings who exist on a different plane from ours, but they are not all content to remain there. If man exists within the Mortal Realm, they exist within the Immortal Realm. These beings are of different types and qualities, many of which would seem impossibly powerful or strange to us. Like men, each have different goals and purposes, some of which are desirable from our perspective and others which are not.

"Most are content to live in their own realm and are satisfied with their existence as it is. However, there are those who are not and who enjoy meddling in the affairs of the mortals. This can be for man's benefit, or it could be for man's detriment. They come and go between their realm and ours as they please and interfere with our realm to the extent as they are allowed.

"Just as with men, these beings are not unified under one common purpose. They are divided into groups, kinds, and interests much like our kingdoms, races, and trades here. These beings tend to take interest in particular groups of people and interfere in their lives as they see fit. Some of them care for the mortals under their watch, others are apathetic or seek a balance. The worst as those who despise mortals and wish nothing but their destruction.

"We are fortunate that there are those in that realm who value our presence and care for us. Those benevolent kingdoms in the Immortal Realm desire to see the lesser mortals live in relative peace and freedom and are willing to fight other immortals who do not share their values. They are constantly at war with those who wish our utter destruction. Battles the like of which we cannot imagine are waged in places we could not ever hope to see while trapped within our mortal coils. Both sides have fought each other to a stalemate that has lasted for thousands of years. Yes, on occasion, one side wins minor victories, but those never last for long when their opposition rallies and retakes what was lost. Neither side is truly stronger than the other, thus neither is able to completely dominate."

Lord Saekoris let out a long sigh and the skin under his eyes sagged just a little. His head fell until his chin touched his collarbone and he remained that way for several long, silent seconds. When he raised his head back up, he looked older than he had been just minutes before.

When he spoke, his voice was heavier than it had been and was full of regret. "Nothing stays in perfect balance forever, Syler Penion of Sandrin. Sooner or later, something will tip the scales and one side will grow stronger than the other. Once that change beings, once the scales start leaning towards one side, it is very hard to reverse course. The longer the scales are able to tip, the less likely it will ever be able to reverse course. It is much harder to stop a rolling boulder at the bottom of the hill than near the top."

"What do I have to do with any of this?" Syler asked.

"A good question, but one I sorely regret having to answer. It is my belief that you are indeed the Majiyae Oretezu spoken of in prophecy for thousands of years. Prophecy speaks of you as being central in the upcoming conflict that is soon to erupt over the entire world. For centuries, events have been leading up to this singular point where the battles that constantly rage in the Immortal Realm will at last spill fully into the Mortal Realm.

"You hold great power, Syler Penion of Sandrin, more than any who has come before you. Those of the Immortal Realm have selected you for a task of the utmost importance, and they have been preparing the way for your arrival for hundreds of years. There is more, but it is not for me to tell." Avenil glanced expectantly over to where Vekla was standing watch over them.

Before she could say anything, the healers he had sent for arrived. There were three of them. One, a skinny older woman with wrinkles covering her face, seemed to be in charge. There was a young man and woman, both around Syler's age who carried various potions, cloth bags, and raw herbs for her. The older woman inspected Bronwyn's wounds and tutted in disappointment. She pulled out some salves and potions to test her patient and assess her wounds. Every so often, she muttered words in Kruish and had her assistants give her things.

After several long minutes during which Syler waited in near breathless anxiety, she spoke. "Whoever been tending to her done her a disservice and made things worse than they should be."

"We were forced to travel and avoid people with no opportunity to rest," Syler said indignantly. "I was not familiar with the lands we were in and couldn't find the right herbs. Even when I did, we didn't have time to let her rest properly for fear of our pursuit."

"That be no excuse," the woman said accusingly. "This woman be nearly with the Spirits."

It was no surprise to him. He knew she was in bad shape, and that her situation was not improving. "I know. She is also under a curse, I think that is affecting her ability to heal." He pointed out the marks on Bronwyn's stomach and said, "These are the marks we believe were involved in the curse."
The healer gently probed the marks and clucked to herself in contemplation. "Magic be not my area of wisdom, healing be. What it does to people be beyond me, though I know a few tricks. How long be she this way?"

Syler thought for a few moments. The days had flown by and he wasn't entirely sure, so he had to think. "I think it has been a little more than a month since we rescued her, but she was imprisoned and tortured for three days before that."

The woman looked at him with wide eyes, "A month?" She gently turned Bronwyn's head to show her blackened cheek, "This be not a month old, but no more than a day old."

Syler nodded sadly. "She has not healed at all since the curse was inflicted upon her. I am not so ignorant as to not notice that even her body's natural ability to heal has been blocked. None of my poultices or salves has worked, not a single one."

The woman said something to the young male assistant and he scampered off to do her bidding. "This be worse than I thought, far worse. This be magic at work, no doubt, powerful magic indeeds." She glanced at Vekla and asked a question in Kruish. The warrior sorceress shook her head. The healer swallowed hard and said, "I must apologize to you for me earlier condemnation. You have done as much as any may do in this situation. Sadly, there be nothing I can do for her if she be under a spell that prevents even from healing naturally. If the Mistress Vekla, with all of her power, cannot reverse the spell, then she will die. I be most sorry, lad, but that be the truth of things."

Both of their eyes fell upon the cold sorceress who was standing over them observing in silence. She crossed her arms and shrugged. "I told you once, I am not able to overcome this magic. It is beyond my skills."

Syler's hopes began to fall once more. "So there is nothing you can do to help us?" he asked.

She considered for a few moments, then said, "I can feel the touch of sorcery, though with a masculine scent. I believe it was a sorcerer who cast the spell, and it was no common spell. I have studied far and wide and know as much as any Kruish sorceress, but this is far beyond me. As it was made with sorcery, only one gifted in such magic could counter it. No wizard, despite their arrogance and claims of superior power, could do anything with this spell."

"Do you know anyone who might have the power to stop this?" Lord Saekoris asked.

"No, bwet lay," replied Vekla without hesitation. "I have considered this and studied the Kutii during our journey and while here. I have knowledge of all those who practice sorcery within our borders and none would know such a thing."

Syler's fists balled up in frustration and his back was arched from the tension in his muscles. "Are you sure? Maybe one knows something that you do not."

The sorceress' fiery brown eyes snapped to him like a hawk to a rabbit. With equal fury, she snapped, "Haelait jhatfait bwe, kalklat!"

"Vekla!" said Lord Saekoris reproachfully. "Take care how you speak to a guest in my house."

She bowed her head and said apologetically, "Fuswau, bwet lay." The fire in her eyes dimmed, but did not entirely go away. To Syler, she said, "There are few of us who can practice sorcery and we know each other's skills well. More so, I am no simple apprentice despite my age, but have mastered my craft more than many could ever do. Of all of my kind among the People, I am the most gifted and strongest, that is why I am ka Rebastaq mel ka Majiyae Oretezu, the Guide to the Master of Magic, and bear the pendant. It is in my blood and has been for generations. If I cannot accomplish what you seek, none here can. Only the caster himself could reverse the spell, and I do not believe he would do such a thing."

Hearing her pronouncement felt like being kicked in the chest. All the air went out of Syler's lungs and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He staggered back and fell to his knees beside his wife while struggling to gasp in air. The world was blurry around him, though it may have been from the tears rapidly forming in his eyes. His hands were trembling when he reached out to gently brush her bruised and bloodied cheek.

He had known that getting help for Bronwyn would be a long shot, but there had still been hope. The only two things keeping him going were that Bronwyn would get better and that he could find Karusa and go away to live in peace. Even when they were tired and in pain, he had driven their small group forward on the way to Sandrin. None of them had any reasons of their own to go there, they simply followed him as he led them ever onward.

When they had been stopped at the seemingly impossible barrier at Fazei Crossing, it had destroyed him. There, in that dark place, he had seen no hope in saving his wife and had sunk so low that he had been willing to kill her to put her out of her misery. Only the unexpected interference of Growald had turned him from that path and given him a tiny sliver of hope that the Krue would know the magic that could save her even though every step they took north was one step farther from his sister.

When it came down to it, he had to decide who needed him the most. It wasn't a difficult decision to make, but it was a hard one. Bronwyn, with the curse placed upon her and in the condition she was in, needed him far more than anyone he could imagine. To seek after Karusa would have meant sacrificing any hope of saving Bronwyn. He might have been willing to sacrifice her to spare her suffering when he saw no hope, but he couldn't do that when there was the slightest chance of saving her.

He made the decision to give up his sister for now so that he could save his wife. Once more, he set aside oath to his sister in the hope that the Elements would honor his loyalty to his wife by sparing her life. Apparently, the Elements had turned against him because, rather than helping him, they seemed to curse him at every step. Nothing he could do was right, none of his decisions were correct. They seemed determined to see him suffer for some unimagined sleight he had inflicted upon them.

The tears of grief and sorrow turned into tears of anger and righteous indignation. His hand, once quivering and weak, reached down to grasp the sword still strapped to his belt with a grip of steel. His teeth ground together as he clenched his jaw.

He wasn't going to let it happen, not again. Enough was enough. He had given much to the Elements, now it was time that they give him something in return. His despair began to turn into bitter determination and anger. He had served the Elements for all of his life and had become an oathbreaker to continue to honor and respect them. He had sacrificed and gone without for years while asking for nothing in return. He gave up his mother, his father, his sister, and his people with nary a complaint, trusting that the Elements had a greater reason for what happened. Many times, when others had complained or fought, he accepted what came to him because it was the will of the Elements. The Elements give and they take away, that is the way of things.

But no more. He was tired of giving and wanted to take something for himself. He was a man who had been stretched to his limits over the past month. Exhaustion, despair, hope, love, and sheer, raw determination were converging into a pure force that was igniting fury within him. It had been building up since the night they took Bronwyn and how, when it seemed that all hope was gone, he could no longer contain it.

"No," whispered Syler to himself. "I forbid it."

Then everything within him snapped. The world became tinted with sickening crimson. He was furious and instead of holding back, he let his fury build up just as he had when fighting Growald. He directed his fury at the Elements and the Angvardi and the Shalktra and Governor Uthas and the Priests of the Way and the men who tortured his sweet Bronwyn and the generals who led the campaign to conquer his home and anyone else who had stood in his way. The red intensified and he could feel the veins in his neck pulsing in fury.

"No more," he said through clenched teeth. "I have given and you have taken, but no longer. I don't know what you want of me, but you shall not have it."

Now, all he could see were shades of violent, blood colored crimson. He no longer cared what anyone else thought as he stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs, "I call upon you, Elements of the Earth! If you want me to do anything for any of you ever again, you will do my bidding! I swear upon all that is sacred and binding, if Bronwyn dies, I shall set myself against you with all of my heart and will, now and forever."

The world shifted into a pure white and he could see nothing through its blinding glory. In his fury, he could only think of what Avenil had said about the Elements. He spoke of them as though they were individuals, not just abstract entities. In this state, with his heart beating so fast in his ears that it sounded like an entire army marching to war, his mind cleared. Memories that had been locked away for a month were suddenly available to him. Word in a language that he had never before even heard of were flashing in front of his very eyes, and he could read them. A Voice, all powerful and all knowing rang in his head and he could understand it.

For that brief moment, Syler remembered.

He took a deep breath and shouted, "Yie raqueiil notoar forswe tarques, Suella, motqual pansuel fatrere!"

As soon as the last syllable left his lips, the white enveloped him and he was taken.