Chapter 6

            Nothing.  Jonathan slowly opened the door only to find absolutely nothing on the other side.  He was thunderstruck as he hesitantly peered through the opening, trying to find something on the other side.  Nothing but darkness greeted him on the other side.

            Midaen came up beside him, and he too was astounded at the lack of anything on the other side.  “I’ve never seen this before,” he said.  “Usually, there is something left behind: an image, a sound, something.  But I’ve never seen an erase this complete.”  He added hesitantly, “I don’t think there’s anything we can do to restore your memory.”

            Jonathan looked dejected, and sat down hard.  “I’d hoped that we could do something,” he started, “But I guess it was a fool’s hope.”  Jonathan thought for a moment.  It wouldn’t do any good to panic or cry.  According to what Hope said, he was the soul-child of a god.  Not only a God, but also the Creator God of Earth.  Jonathan had never been overly religious, but something resonated the truth of what Hope said, and it would dishonor that Creator God for Jonathan to react poorly.  Despite those thoughts, he just couldn’t shake the fact that months of his life were gone, never to be returned.  Jonathan sat there, in the deepest tunnel of his mind, and wept.

            It took him a long time, but eventually Jonathan calmed enough to look up.  Midaen was standing there with a look of compassion on his face, waiting for Jonathan to recover enough to leave his mindscape.  “Jonathan,” he started hesitantly, “I know what you are going through is crushing.  If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

            “Thank you,” Jonathan sniffed as he arose.  “I don’t know what we’re going to do now.  I know I was sent here for something, but I don’t know what it was.  Or where to start,” Jonathan chuckled.  “Hope told me I’m a Druid, so I guess the best place to start is by learning what she can teach me.”

            “A wise plan.  Well, I don’t think we should tarry here any more.  Let’s joint the real world again.”

            Jonathan sniffled one more time, and then said, “OK…How?”

            Midaen chuckled, “I forgot you’ve never done this before.  Just imagine yourself waking up, and you’ll feel yourself rising.  Just let it happen, and you’ll rejoin the real world.”

            Jonathan closed his eyes once again in an effort to push his grief out of his mind, and concentrated on waking up.  He felt himself falling and rising up at the same time, an altogether bizarre sensation.  Slowly, the hallway he was standing in dissolved away like a fog lifting, and Midaen’s cottage appeared.  Hope was kneeling beside him looking worried, and Jagal and Kamama were nowhere to be seen.

            “Jonathan, thank Breanna you’re awake,” she said with profound relief in her voice.  “What happened?”

            “It would seem,” Midaen began, “that Jonathan has an extremely disciplined mind.  He was able to follow me into his mind.”  He gave Jonathan an appraising look, then merely shook his head and smiled.

            “You have to have a disciplined mind to become a Druid,” Hope said in explanation, though she caught the look Midaen gave to Jonathan and decided to ask him about it later.

            “It was weird,” Jonathan said. “We looked in several of the rooms that were dated during the time that I’m missing, and there wasn’t anything there.”

            “Rooms?” Hope said with some confusion.

            “Like I said, Jonathan has a very disciplined mind.  He has arranged his mind, at least in our visit to it, like gigantic hallways.  Each hallway is lined with rooms, and each room is a separate part of his mind.  One of the doors we entered contained his sense of sight.  Each day of memory is also located in such a room.  When we opened the door that would have been the last day you spent on Earth, there was nothing,” Midaen said somewhat perplexed.  “I’ve never seen that before.  It wasn’t an empty room; it wasn’t a fog-shrouded place.  There was absolutely nothing.  I’m afraid that I don’t know any way to fix that.  If there had been something—anything—there, I might have been able to do something.

            “I’m truly sorry, Jonathan,” he said with regret.

            “I…I think I want to be alone right now,” Jonathan said as he stood from the floor.  The tears he had shed while inside his mind had actually happened in the real world as well, and he wiped his face as he walked toward the door.

            “Jonathan, wait,” Hope implored, “don’t run off like this.”

            “I need some time to think.  I’ll be alright,” he said as he continued toward the door.

            “Please, take this,” she said, as something appeared in her hands.  “If you concentrate on it, and talk, I will hear it.  Just say my name, and I will be there before the sound of your voice is gone.”

            Jonathan walked over to Hope and accepted her offered hand.  Her touch was almost fearful, and when he withdrew his hand he saw a curious looking amulet.  It had the appearance of wrought iron but was much too light.  It was a peculiar design—a design that he’d never seen together, but one that had elements of things he’d seen before.  There was a circle surrounding a curious, curved knot in the shape of a triangle.  Within the boundaries of the circle were four more symbols less familiar to him.  On the top of the circle, there was a small triangle with a line through the upper third of it.  On the bottom, an identical triangle was situated point down.  Looking at it, he noticed that the left and right triangles were triangles too; these however were simple triangles with no line.  He thought about the curious knot design for a moment trying to remember what it was called, but he couldn’t discover its name in the vaults of his memory.

            His memory.  His face turned dark again as he slipped the simple leather thong of the amulet over his head and headed out the door.  Months of his life were simply gone, and there didn’t seem to be anything to be done about getting them back.  He wandered without direction for a long time, merely pondering what he would do now.

            The Earth was gone, along with everything he knew.  Hope, Jagal, and Kamama said that they were his friends, but could the really be trusted?  He really didn’t know that much about them.  They’d been nice enough to him so far, but did they truly have his best interests in mind?  The more he thought about it, the more he thought he might need a way to escape if necessary.  He decided that he would start to procure some supplies to get away, and then he’d slip away some night while they were sleeping.

            Taking stock of his surroundings, Jonathan noticed that he had wandered quite a ways from the village.  He could still hear the sounds of preparations going on in the village, but couldn’t see it any more.  He looked around, and noticed that his footprints were fairly visible in the soft ground.  He started to follow his tracks back toward the village while thinking about what supplies he would need.  A tent of some kind, something to hold water, some food, and a map if he can get it.  At first though, he’d just need to get away.  As he approached the village, he saw a few peddlers hawking their goods—a man selling lettuce and cucumbers in one, a man showing a small leather bag to a young woman, a young woman selling kitchen supplies.  They seemed to be the only ones out on the street, but the sound of hammering could be heard coming from a small shack on the edge of the settlement.  Jonathan ventured closer and discovered it was a blacksmith’s forge, and there was an absolutely huge man inside working on a piece of hot metal.

            Jonathan watched the blacksmith almost until dusk.  The methodical pounding of metal on metal was quite relaxing, and in Jonathan’s turmoil filled mind, anything that calmed him down was a good thing.  As he watched the metal taking shape, his mind started to clear and his wildly running emotions started to stabilize.  He pulled the axe off his back, and imagined the kind of craftsmanship it took to create a blade like that.  His fingers gently traced the symbols in the blade of the axe.

            The symbols!  Quickly, Jonathan reached under his shirt and pulled out the medallion that Hope had given him.  The symbols on his axe and the symbols on the medallion were the same!  But why?  It couldn’t just be coincidence.  Jonathan quickly put the axe back in its harness and ran toward Midaen’s cottage.  When he got there, he found that Kamama was sitting outside the cottage with her hands elbow deep in the belly of a deer.

            “I didn’t think you’d do that, Kamama,” Jonathan said with some surprise as he approached the house.

            “Didn’t think I’d do what?”

            “Sit around with your arms elbow deep in a deer.”

            “Well, I’m cleaning it,” she chuckled, pulling something out of the interior of the deer.  “I have to take out all the entrails before we can eat it, and before it rots.”

            “Ah,” Jonathan said delicately, “whatever it takes.”

            Kamama chuckled again as Jonathan went into the cottage.  Inside, Hope and Jagal were playing cards and Midaen was tending the fire.  They all looked up as he entered the cottage, Jagal taking a moment to peek at Hope’s cards.

            “Jonathan, I’m glad you’re back,” Jagal said with some relief.  “A few more minutes and I would’ve come looking for you.”

            “I’m sorry to make you worry,” Jonathan began softly.  “I just needed some time to think.”

            “Did you reach any conclusions?”

            “A few,” Jonathan started elusively.  “I think I need to learn about what I can do first.”

            At this, Hope rose from her game laying down an ace high flush to Jagal’s chagrin.  She looked at Jonathan, and considered him for a moment.  “Jonathan, are you sure?” she started hesitantly.  “It takes a long time to learn about Druidic magic.  Are you sure you’re ready to begin?  I know you don’t really know us that well.”

            “Yes.  You told me before that I was training before we started this trip; perhaps the return to it will jar something in my memory.”

            “A wise plan,” Jagal rose from the table after checking his cards again, “but something I believe we shouldn’t do around here.  You also must go through my training as well.”

            “Your training?” Jonathan asked fearfully.

            Jagal chuckled.  “Yes, my training,” he grinned.  “That funny looking sword on your back isn’t a decoration.”

            Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at the axe handle, and looked back at Jagal.  “That might be helpful,” he agreed.

            “Well, it’s set then.  We will attend the festivities of this village, then move out to find a suitable place to begin your training.”  Hope turned to look at Midaen, “I was wondering if you might point us to an inn?” she asked.  “We wouldn’t want to impose on you in your home.”

            “Nonsense,” Midaen exclaimed.  “You’re as welcome here as I am.  And if I may, I think I would like to join you.  My life here has become very boring, and I would like to see the world a little.  It sounds like you are headed somewhere else for a while.  I would really like to travel for a while, before…” he trailed off.

            “Before?” Jagal asked, raising his eyebrow.

            “Before my mother arranges a marriage for me,” Midaen blushed.

            The others erupted into laughter at that admission.  Wiping a tear from his eye, Jagal said, “It’s fine with me if you come with us.”  Glancing at Hope to catch her nod, he continued, “I also think you’ll be a good addition to our group.  What do you think Jonathan?”

            Jonathan looked at Midaen, and considered the question.  He didn’t really trust these people yet, but if he was able to get away from the other three, why not this one too?  It really didn’t matter in the long run; if he decided to run, one more wouldn’t make that much difference.

            “It doesn’t bother me,” he said slowly.  “Where will we go though?”

            “Is there any reason we can’t stay in the village?” Jagal asked.

            “There are too many distractions here,” Kamama said as she came into the cottage.  “We need to be somewhere where there is absolutely no distractions for his training.”

            “You heard?” Hope asked simply.

            “Yes, and I agree.  We should start his education.  The faster we can get him to decent Druid status, the faster we can make a life for ourselves here.

            “I just have to wonder, though, are their Druids here?” she turned to Midaen as she asked.

            “I have heard of them, but I’ve never met them.  They are a very secluded bunch.  They have no formal academy in Dolaria, and tend to stay to themselves.  Even if they’re around, they don’t use their powers openly around us.  You are the first I’ve seen use your powers openly…”

            “It’s just our way,” Kamama explained.  “I’ve lived so long away from civilization, if I need something I just Summon it—like you saw Hope do to get her cards.”

            “You can summon anything you want?” he asked with some astonishment.  When Hope and Kamama both nodded their heads, he said, “No wonder they keep themselves secret.”

            “Do you have any ideas where we might go to be secluded?  We would need a fairly wooded area away from civilization and interference.”

            Midaen put his hand to his chin and thought for a moment before saying, “I don’t know of any place in particular, but I am certain that we can find one in the Kidarn Mountains.  They lie north and east of here, about a three weeks journey to the foothills.  We should be able to find a suitable place for your training, and there’s plenty of wood to build a dwelling as well.”

            “That sounds good,” Kamama said.  “Being in such proximity to the village is making me nervous anyway.  When will we leave?”

            “The day after tomorrow?” Hope asked everyone.

            A chorus of agreement came from the group, and they mostly dispersed from there.  Hope and Jagal went back to their card game, and Jonathan went back outside to think.

            I hate this.

            The shadowy figure crept silently along the rooftop, its black cloak blending perfectly with the shadows of night.  Slowly, the figure made its way to its intended destination, a large building in the center of town.  Pausing at the edge of the rooftop next to its target building, the figure gazed down as a guard passed underneath, his surcoat showing plainly the guard’s master.

            Amateur, the figure thought as it jumped easily over the guard’s head and onto the next rooftop.  Creeping silently around to the back of the large manor, the figure easily dropped onto a large balcony overlooking a lush garden.  The figure quickly crossed to the large, glass paneled doors only to find them locked.

            Typical, the figure stated as it reached into the top of its soft, black doeskin boots and produced a set of lock picks, I never seem to be able to find an open door.  Working quickly, it was a mere moment before the lock was open and the figure was inside the manor.  Gazing around the room, the figure discovered itself in a large, lushly appointed library with hundreds of books lining wooden shelves around the walls.  The figure stood agape for a moment, and then remembered the task at hand.  Quickly crossing the room, able to negotiate around several sofas and reading chairs by the light of the full moon outside, the figure crept to the doorway on the other side.  Pausing for a moment to listen for any movement on the other side of the door, the figure gently eased the catch on the door open and stepped out into the hallway.

            The hallway the figure found itself in was wide and spacious.  The rug on the floor showed little signs of use; whether from newness or care it wasn’t sure.  Dark wooden paneling lined the hall, with candlesticks spaced about every six or seven paces.  Expensive looking artwork hung between the candlesticks, and at the far end of the hallway a sculpture sat on a wooden pedestal, though the figure couldn’t make out any details of it in the gloom.

            Now the hard part.  The figure slowly made its way along the hallway, looking for the room holding its target.  The first four doors it tried were disappointments.  Finally, however, the figure carefully peered around a corner and saw a set of oaken doors flanked by two bored looking guards.  Quickly pulling its head back around the corner, it thought about how to neutralize the guards.

            Obviously this is the right room.  There wouldn’t be guards on a single room unless something of great importance was inside, and it must be my target.  The contract said that I couldn’t be seen, and that only my target was to be killed.  Distraction is out because even if they ran to investigate, there would be only a moment before they realized their mistake, and if they were any good, they’d hold their post unless the distraction came from within the room.  That means incapacitating them silently.  Luckily, I have just the thing.

            The figure reached into a small sack hanging from its waist and pulled out a small black ball.  Chanting for a moment and making a few precise gestures with the ball, the figure waited until the ball started to get warm, and then quickly rolled it around the corner.  A small popping sound was heard, followed by two gentle thuds.  Peering around the corner quickly, the figure saw that the guards were very nicely unconscious on the floor.  Snickering slightly, the figure stepped over the bodies of the guards and into the room beyond.

            The room it stepped into was absolutely palatial in its splendor.  Not only were the walls gilded in gold, but the floor and ceiling were also covered with gold leaf.  Across the room, in the largest bed the figure had ever seen, lay two figures under a thin satin sheet.  Finally, the figure thought, Payday.

            The figure crossed over to the bed, pulling a jeweled dagger out of its belt sheath.  The contract had been very specific in the manner this job was to be carried out.  The target was located in Hertha, capital city of Hertham.  He was a wealthy merchant that lived in the center of town.  The contract stated that the contractor was to enter the target’s house, neutralize the target, and emerge without being seen.  Payment would then be made at a predetermined location, through the normal channels.  The manner of neutralization was also very specific.  Normally, someone in the figures line of work did that work with a minimum of interference, and in whatever manner seemed appropriate at the time.  However, this contract came with this dagger and instructions that it was to be inserted into the right eye of the target and pushed through the brain.  The contractor was then to take the right hand of the target and present it in exchange for payment.  This confused the contractor, as a normal token was a ring or pendant, not a body part.  The detailed means of carrying out this contract meant that it was personal.

            The figure shook its head suddenly, breaking its musings.  Too many questions had caused more than one contractor to disappear.  The figure prized itself on its neutrality as far as such things were concerned, and so it concentrated on finishing the contract.  It approached the bed stealthily, identifying the fat merchant and moving in to complete the contract.  The figure raised the dagger and plunged it down into the merchant’s eye.  A very quiet slurp was the only sound as the knife slid through the man’s eye and into his brain.  The man didn’t make a sound as his last breath escaped his lips, and his companion barely stirred.  The figure wasted no time in withdrawing the dagger and taking the man’s hand.  Slipping back out the way it came, the figure passed the still sleeping guards and went back through the library.

            Several minutes later, as the figure paused on a rooftop some distance from the manor house, bells began to toll.  Cries of alarm started coming from the manor, and several guards ran past underneath the figure.  It took them long enough, the figure thought, slipping back from the edge of the building to its hidden stash.  Changing into more appropriate street clothing, the figure placed its trophy into a hidden pouch, and muttered a few words over its skulking clothes.  The clothes disappeared in a puff of smoke leaving nothing behind.  The figure paused for a moment at the edge of the roof to make sure no one was watching and then slipped down onto the street.  Emerging from the alley it had dropped into, it joined the small throng of people headed to one of the many public houses.  Being the capital city, Hertha always had people moving about, and it was easy for the figure to disappear into the crowds.

            I’ll give things a few days to calm down, the figure thought.  Then I’ll make my way to get paid.  This one should give me enough to retire.  I hate this line of work.

            The shadowy figure, now dressed in plain street clothes, made its way into one of the general public houses that dotted Hertha.  It socialized just enough to seem inconspicuous, then headed up to its room.  Unlocking the door and stepping inside, after quickly making sure that no one was watching, the figure looked on the simple furnishings.  A small bed was in one corner, a small glass window latched overhead.  A small table holding a candle sat next to the bed, under which was a small bowl showing the rings from water repeatedly left in it to dry.  There was nothing else in the room other than another candleholder on one wall.

            However, much like its plain clothed occupant, the room was more than it seemed.  Walking quickly over to the wall, the figure pulled the candleholder down and twisted it clockwise.  A soft swishing sound was heard, and the figure turned to find a section of the floor sliding open.  Quickly moving to the opening the figure walked down a short flight of stairs.  At the bottom of the stairs was a dark hallway stretching off into the distance.  As the figure stepped off the final stair at the bottom, it stopped before the blade could touch her.  Hovering mere fingers in front of the figure was a sword blade held by a black-gloved hand.  The figure followed the arm holding the sword back to the hooded face of a man.  The man said not a word, but the implication was clear.

            “Atramentous,” the figure stated clearly and confidently.  The figure had been through this same password ritual hundreds of times.  It was more than a mere ritual, however, as there were no fewer than four guards present at that spot, and all were highly skilled warriors of the highest rank.  If anyone didn’t know the procedure, or gave the wrong password, or hesitated, or did anything to annoy the guards, their journey would come to an abrupt end.  Every time someone descended those stairs, it could be the last twenty-four steps they ever take.

            “Proceed,” the man said and then disappeared back into the shadows.

            The figure continued down the hallway, eventually reaching a section of wall that had changed slightly.  Counting the bricks to find the correct one, the figure reached out and pushed one of the bricks into the wall.  The wall next to the brick slid out noiselessly, revealing a dark yet lushly appointed bedroom.  The figure walked inside the room, and, after making sure the wall closed behind it, knelt on the floor.

            Keeping its head down, the figure said, “Grand Master, I have returned.”

            A figure rose from a lushly padded chair on the other side of the room.  The figure moved like a cat, almost floating across the room.  Slowly crossing the room, the figure spoke, revealing a surprisingly deep male voice.

            “You have succeeded,” the figure said, both asking a question and making a statement at the same time.

            “Yes, master.  The contract was fulfilled.  There were no complications.”

            “Excellent.  You have proven to be an excellent choice.  You have the token?”

            “Yes, master,” the figure stated while slowly reaching into its tunic to the hidden pocket which held the hand of the dead merchant.  Grasping the gruesome trophy, the figure held it out for its master to take.

            “Very good,” the man said, grabbing the severed hand and placing it into a concealed pocket himself.  He crooked a finger and placed it under the chin of the figure kneeling on the floor.  “You have done well.  Your payment is in your room,” he stated with some hesitancy, “I know you dislike this work.  You are an absolute natural, however, I know you hate it.  Therefore, I have arranged a new job for you—one that I have been assure you will come to enjoy.

            “You are to travel to the Kidarn Mountains and await further instructions.  There is no monetary reward for this contract…rather, your reward will be something else entirely.”

            “But master…” the kneeling figure started.

            “No buts,” the Grand Master intoned.  “You can’t lie to me.  I have a gift for you, one that will serve you well in your new role.  Five years ago, when you came to me, you came bearing the remains of your father’s sword and a story on the death of your family.  I remembered your vow then; that you would avenge your family’s death and make the killer pay.  Well, I cannot help you in that regard,” the Master said as he reached onto a shelf for a long wooden box, “but I can give you this.”

            As the Grand Master handed the package to the figure kneeling before him, he said, “I know you aren’t a big fan of swords despite being quite good with one, but I thought you might like this one.”

            The figure accepted the box with some reverence.  To be given a gift from the Grand Master himself was one of the highest honors in the guild.  The figure gently opened the box to reveal a sword wrapped in purple silk.  After gently pulling the silk back, the figure saw the hilt from its father’s sword but with a new blade fitted to it.  The pommel was shaped like a dragon’s head with two small emeralds for eyes while the neck and body flowing toward a blade breaker guard that was formed by the dragon’s wings.  The figure picked up its father’s sword and found that it was much lighter than it used to be, and looked up at the Grand Master in confusion.

            The Grand Master chuckled as he said, “I thought you’d notice.  Yes, the blade is lighter.  I had the Blade Master of Hertha herself craft that blade.  She said that she used a special metal that she couldn’t tell me about.  She gave me some information about the qualities though, and they’re even better than I had hoped.  The metal is so hard that it must be forged by magic, and the process imbues the blade with qualities that even she didn’t know.  Let me show you.”  The Grand Master reached down and took the sword from the kneeling figure’s hands.  He walked over to a panel in the wall that opened to reveal a small collection of swords.  Taking a random one from its spot, he placed it in a vice on his workbench.  Gesturing the kneeling figure over, he raised the figure’s sword and slashed across the sword in the vice.  There was no sound, but the tip of the clamped sword fell to the ground.  Picking up the now useless piece of metal and showed it to the now standing figure.  The figure had seen enough broken weapons to know that the metal was cut and not broken.

            “Your sword is unbreakable,” the Grand Master told the figure, “and it will never rust or need sharpening.”

            “Master, this is a gift beyond value.  I cannot accept this.”

            “You must.  It is a gift, but it is also a tool.  You will know when you must use this, but know this—once you accept this gift, you are accepting the new assignment as well.  You will need to take some time to get acquainted with this new weapon as well.  The Blade Master said that she had never created a blade of this caliber, and that once the person who was to be its master revealed him or herself to it, there would be a bonding.  That was the term she used.  In the bonding, the sword would surrender its power to its master.  The sword has a kind of sentience, the Blade Master said, but she didn’t know what its powers would be.  You must take this with you deep into the wilderness and then bond with it.  Only then will you know what to do.”

            “I understand, my master.”

            Three days later, a lone figure left Hertha traveling toward the Kidarn Mountains…and its freedom.