Pt. 12
"Tell me what you know about this Draco family," Gideon demanded, pacing in front of the conference room table. He, Dr. Chambers, Max and Alwyn and retreated there after Alwyn's attempt to enter Galen's skimmer had proven unsuccessful.
"It is as much legend as fact," Alwyn admitted, sitting stiffly in his chair, his staff on his lap. "Technomages have existed for over a thousand years but humans have only been part of the order for a few hundred. Those early human technomages brought with them a legend from their home world, a legend of power and mystery – the legend of the Draco family. The story in my order is that the members of the Draco's were not human at all, but a race far older then even the Minbari. Those of my order who tried to research the unusual phenomena associated with that name found all their work blocked at every term. One technomage, Delcat of Phobos 7, was said to have found proof of the power these beings wielded but died before he could present it to the rest of the order. I was one of those sent to his place of power to retrieve his research, only to find it gone."
"The research had disappeared?" Sarah asked.
"No, his home had disappeared. Everything he owned, down to his staff, his cloak and all his research had simply vanished almost overnight. And now one, not even the local inhabitants of the planet, could tell us how it had come about. All they knew was one day, the house was there and the next day it was gone."
"How do you make a house disappear?" Max asked with interest.
"Easily if you know how," Alwyn replied, "but none of the things needed to pull off that little feat of technomancy were present on that planet when we arrived. Since then, the study of that family's power has been undertaken by few of our kind and the stories of their power have become more myth than reality. I had never imagined Galen would have an interest in this tale, much less fall victim to it."
"Wait, we don't know he's fallen victim to anything," Max protested. "For all we know, he just wants to be left alone and that's why your little "incantation" didn't work."
"Is there anyway to break past that barrier you felt and get into the skimmer?" Gideon asked, ignoring Eilerson's comments.
"I will try again, but I fear whatever has him locked away in his ship is not yet ready to release him."
Magda carefully poured the steaming tea into tiny cups and passed one to Marianne, who had curled up gracefully on the cushions across from her. "Where would you like me to begin, Lady?"
"At the beginning, of course. That's where all good tales begin. Tell me about this world and how it went from beauty to darkness." Marianne leaned back against the wall, balancing the cup on her knee. She could just make out the till figure of the Swordsman through the window, still standing with his back to her in the street.
"The Darkness came upon us when I was a child." Magda recounted, remembering the time before the demons with a sigh. "This world was once bright and beautiful and all who lived in it had their own small magics to perform. The ability to heal, the ability to grow plants and sturdy beasts, to paint the world with colors and sing words to end sorrow and pain, these were only a few of the abilities of our people."
"Some had more martial talents?" Marianne asked pensively.
"Yes, those like the Swordsman's father had the ability to call any weapon to their hand in times of need. Others had the gift of truth saying and shape-shifting. But there was little use for these gifts in our peaceful world. At least, there was until the Darkness began to creep in."
"When did it first appear?"
"There were signs of the approaching evil, signs we none of us truly saw. Werebeasts were seen again in the old forests and mischievous spirits suddenly began to bedevil places of learning. Crops didn't grow as well, no matter how many spells and incantations were spoken over them. And a red pall seemed to hang in the air at sunset, as though the sky itself were on fire. None of our sheriffs could tell us what was causing these occurrences. Most had no idea themselves, being mostly soldiers not scholars. But his father," nodding to the still figure in the street, "he was both. He began to see a pattern to the small evils that were occurring, a pattern leading to a much larger evil."
Marianne frowned at her teacup. "Why didn't he try to warn anyone about it? Your king, for instance, should have been told."
"The kings of our land had become merely figure-heads. The real power lay in the mages who ruled the schools of magic. They and they alone could and should have done something. But like most that they taught these old sorcerers had little real power of their own. Some even welcomed the Jinns arrival into our world, hoping to partake of their power." Magda closed her eyes, sadness overwhelming her at the memories of her people's downfall.
"What happened here, specifically?" Marianne asked softly. "What happened to the Swordsman to bring him into Uris the Jinns service?"
"Service? Slavery is a better term. He was barely sixteen when the Jinn came to our world. Before he was the Swordsman he was a kind and steady young man who was devoted to his father. But he was cursed with the gift of magic like his father. Only his gifts were far greater than the Sheriff's. The young one could not only call and control weapons, he could make the ancient spell-craft work for him. There were those in the village who were jealous of his gifts and those who were afraid of them as well, afraid he would take those gifts to the rebels and bring down the wrath of the demons on the village. And there were others, upstanding citizens all, who had wracked their pea brains for a way to make an advantageous deal with the Jinn and saw his gifts as their key to a wealthy life. They went to the Jinn and bargained with him for riches and long life and offered him a gift that wasn't theirs to give. The Jinn agreed. It was powerful enough against our kind but among its own it was a minor demon at best. It feared the assassins sent by its brethren and the rebel bands that formed after the demons overwhelmed the king's pitiful army. So it agreed to the villager's request and sent them to make good on their barter. These "good" men sent a village girl, one they knew the boy had a fondness for, to lure him away from his father's side while they dealt with the Sheriff." Magda leaned forward towards her guest, her voice ragged with emotion. "They tried to buy the man's compliance, to bribe him to surrender his son to that monster on the hill. When he refused they overwhelmed him, beating him before he could call his sword to his side. The boy felt his father's distress and tried to go to him, but the girl had given him a drink laced with poppy juice and he fell, senseless before he had gone more than a few feet. He never saw what his father's old friends did to him before they murdered him. He never felt the collar being fitted around his neck or heard the spells of binding being performed. All he knew was when he woke from his drugged sleep, his family was dead and he was the bound servant of Uris the Jinn."
"What of his mother? Was she still alive when this occurred?"
Magda sighed. "Yes, poor soul. She was defenseless against those "good" men who destroyed her husband and son, though she was thought to have the old magic in her blood. I suspect the only remnants of the old magic that she might have had she passed on to her son. There was nothing she could do – and nothing that could be done for her after it was all said and done."
Marianne stirred restlessly in her seat. "Did he ever find out what had happened?"
"Yes, but the Jinn keeps a tight leash on him. He is prevented from taking his revenge openly by the power of the binding spell."
"Does it also keep him from hurting himself? I would think he would have preferred death to being forced to serve the evil which was responsible for his father's death."
"Yes, he can not cause his own death, though he can and frequently does cause himself injuries by seeking out encounters with other fighters. I am his healer, selected by the Jinn for this as none of the others here will tend him because of his battles for the demon."
"And I suspect he's cut himself a few times too, just to see if he can still feel anything." Marianne mused, laying the cup down on the floor beside her. She rose slowly and held out a hand to the older woman. "Thank you, old mother, for telling me this story. I think I know where my path lies now."
Magda clasped the younger woman's slender hand in her own rough one. "What will you do now, Lady?"
"Now, it's off to see the Jinn. Wish me luck, healer, for if I don't succeed you may have yet another patient on your hands. Or my brother will be mourning the loss of his sister.