Chapter 9

            “Ok Jonathan, one more time,” Jagal said as he lifted the stick he was using as a practice sword.

            It had been almost week since Jonathan and his friends left Appledawn and headed northeast.  Their progress had been slow, however, because they would stop early every day to start Jonathan’s training in fighting.  Midaen was just happy to be out of Appledawn, but also scared about his new life.  For their part, Hope and Kamama were content until they made it wherever they were going.  They estimated that they would have another three and a half weeks of travel until they were in the foothills of the Kidarn Mountains, and from there Hope and Kamama would find a suitable spot to build a cabin.  Then they would start the long task of training Jonathan.

            As Jonathan picked himself up off the ground for the tenth time that day, he wondered if he would ever get better.  Jagal had systematically beaten him into the ground for the past week, even going so far as to cause Kamama to heal him a couple times.  Druidic magic, it turned out, was the only magic that returned the body to its original, unaltered state.  Broken bones were mended with no weakening of the bone, and cuts and scrapes were healed with no scarring.         Jagal started going a little easier on him after he broke Jonathan’s arm however, because after Kamama healed him she really went to town on Jagal.  She railed on him for being so rough, and then she started shouting at him about his general state of mind, finally questioning his lineage.  Jonathan had to stifle a laugh when that happened.  He’d started to notice that Kamama had been watching over him recently—always staying near him, trying to keep him out of trouble.  She was almost…mothering him.  It kind of felt good after so long being treated like a piece of sewer trash.

            Jonathan raised his mock sword and nodded to Jagal, who proceeded to beat him into the ground again, taking care not to hurt him too badly.  After another hour of getting beaten around, Jagal finally relented and took them back to camp.

            “Jonathan,” he said as they started back, “I imagine that right now you’re wondering why I’ve been basically beating you up for the last week.”

            “The thought had crossed my mind once or twice,” Jonathan glared at him.

            Jagal chuckled, then said, “Well, I was seeing how you move, and where we need to start.  You actually aren’t doing that badly,” he said, glancing at Jonathan’s disbelieving look.  “You move very well for someone who’s never been trained.”

            Jonathan laughed.  “I move well, and yet you seem to do very well at beating the snot out of me.”

            “Well,” Jagal chuckled, “I’ve had a little more practice at it than you have.”

            “How long have you been doing this?”

            “Which?”

            “Fighting.”

            “Oh, well my initial training as a warrior a little over twenty-five hundred years ago, and I’ve been training since then.”

            Jonathan tripped over a rock when Jagal told him how long he’d been training.  “You mean you’re over 2500 years old?”

            Jagal laughed, “Yeah, I’ve been around a while.”

            “Twenty-five hundred…” Jonathan started, and then thought a minute.  “Were you at Thermopylae?”

            Now it was Jagal’s turn to be shocked.  “How would you know that?”

            “I just seem to remember that it happened around 480 BC, which would have been after you started training.”

            Jagal looked at him with some appreciation then said, “You have quite a memory of history.  Yes, I was alive for the Massacre at Thermopylae.  However,” he said with some regret, “I was not at the battle.  I was chosen to stay behind.”

            “You were a Spartan?”

            “Still am, really.  Did Hope tell you what God I served?”

            “She didn’t say, only that you were a priest.”

            “Well, all Spartan citizens go through the Agoge, even the priests.  After the Agoge, I was called by Ares to be a priest in his temple, where I eventually became High Priest.  When I was about forty years old, Ares offered to take me into Hades and train me himself.”

            “Ares, the Greek god of war?” Jonathan asked.

            “That’s a popular term for him, yes.  Actually he was the Greek God of Savage War.”

            “Savage war?”

            “Well, Athena was also a war deity, though she tended to be more dedicated to strategic war.  Ares, on the other hand, was more into bloodlust—meeting your foe head to head—no retreat, no surrender.  But what I learned in Hades was every fighting style imaginable.  Which I intend to teach to you.”

            Jonathan tripped over a rock at that little announcement.  “Every one?”

            “Every one.  I know fighting styles that have been dead for two thousand years, and I don’t wish for them to die with me.”

            “Speaking of which,” Jonathan remembered, “When did you become immortal?”

            “I wondered when you’d ask that,” Jagal chuckled.  “I’m not truly immortal, but it was when I went to Hades.”

            “What do you mean you aren’t truly immortal?  And how’d it happen?”

            “I can’t die of old age or sickness, but I can be killed.  If I die, I’ll go to Hades in glory,” he said with a dreamy expression.  “Or at least I would have.  Since we’ve left Earth, I don’t know what will happen.  And I became this way when I ate ambrosia.”

            “How did the training go?” Hope asked as Jagal and Jonathan as they walked back into camp.

            “I’ve finished evaluating him.  We’ll start the real training tomorrow.”

            “At least I don’t have to heal him today,” Kamama said flintily.

            “The pain is part of the training,” Jagal started.  “He has to be able to work through the pain.”

            “But you don’t have to kill him to make him work through the pain,” Kamama snapped at him.

            “I said I was sorry for that,” Jagal said sheepishly.  “From now on I’ll be more careful.”

            Kamama merely snorted and turned back to the fire, where a conjured meal was cooking on a spit.  Kamama and Hope had taken to conjuring ingredients for a meal, then cooking it.  Jonathan imagined that it was so they had something to do in the afternoons when he was with Jagal.  Every time they did it, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel a strange feeling.  When he asked them about it, they merely said he’d learn about it when they got settled.

            It was frustrating to Jonathan.  He knew that they would teach him, but it drove him crazy not knowing something that he felt he should know.  He walked over to his bedroll and sat down heavily.  He started musing on his lost memory, and as he thought about it, he started to hum.

            Hope looked over as Jonathan started to hum.  It was eerily similar to the humming that she’d heard when the axe bonded itself to Jonathan, even if the tune was different.  What was more, she could feel the Heart start to respond to that humming.  Kamama joined Hope as the humming intensified and Jonathan started to sing aloud.

            “Another bonding?” Kamama asked.

            “It doesn’t feel like it.  But he’s doing something.  I wonder…”

            “What?”

            “Jonathan keeps doing things that he can’t explain.  Like when he found the werewolves when we first arrived here.  He looked around and found every single werewolf that was around us, but never said a word or cast a spell.  That’s something that even I can’t do.  I wonder if something about his divine soul is giving him insight into his magic—like magical instincts that stem from the divine side.”

            “Maybe…or perhaps it’s simpler than that.  Perhaps it’s like multiple personalities.”

            Hope’s face suddenly lit up.  “Midaen!” she shouted, “Get over here.  Jonathan, come here please.”

            Jonathan got up and walked over to them just as Midaen ran from where he was meditating.

            “Midaen,” Hope said, “When you looked for Jonathan’s memory, you said it was nothing but a bunch of empty rooms.”

            “That’s right,” Midaen said with some confusion, “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

            “Have you ever heard of split personalities?” 

            Midaen looked shocked.  “I’ve heard of them, but there was nothing in Jonathan’s mind that would even hint at that.”

            “Well, what I have in mind is not necessarily split personality per se.  Jonathan has something of a unique…situation.  Jonathan, could you start to hum like you were before.  Midaen, when I tell you, I want you to try to access his memory again.”

            Jonathan looked confused for a moment, then started to hum like he had been before, pondering his lost memory and letting the music flow.  As he started to hum, Hope almost immediately started to feel the Heart respond to his music.

            “Midaen, if you please.”

            Midaen placed his index and middle fingers from both hands on his temples and concentrated.  Almost immediately Jonathan’s humming grew in intensity, and suddenly Midaen was thrown across the campground, some 20 feet, where he landed and rolled to a stop.  Midaen sat up groaning as Jonathan stopped humming and fainted dead away.

            “Oooh…” Midaen said sitting up, “That hurt.”

            “What happened?” Hope asked intensely.

            “Something’s different.  I’ve never seen that kind of defensive wall around a mind, but when I started to probe it, it reacted.”

            “At least that confirmed part of my theory.”

            “What theory?”

            Hope looked at Kamama and Jagal, and both nodded their heads to the unanswered question.  Hope turned to Midaen and said, “I will explain it to you, but first let us wake Jonathan.  It is something that he should hear as well.”

            After they roused Jonathan, the group sat around the fire and Hope began to tell their tale.  She told of her relationship with Breanna, how Jonathan came to be with them, then finally Jonathan’s unique situation.

            “So he is the son of the Creator God of your universe?”

            “That’s about it,” Kamama said, “Though it’s not that simple.  He had mortal parents, just like all of us, but his soul was birthed by Breanna and then placed into his body.”

            “What happened to his original soul?”

            “It probably went into another child somewhere.  The soul doesn’t enter into the body until birth, after all, so the soul would just find another host somewhere else.”

            “So you think the unique property of his soul is why he lost his memories?”

            “In a manner of speaking,” Hope explained.  “I think that, like multiple personalities, his soul has divided itself.  In a manner of speaking, he’s two people, but at the same time only one.  Before we came here, after his meeting with Breanna, he had changed.  He was much more knowledgeable and forthright.  Yet, when we arrived here he was much the same as the first time I met him.”

            “So you think that his change was due to his soul?”

            “I think that he has something of a split soul, one part divine and one part mortal.  I don’t know if a truly divine soul could exist in a mortal body.  So I think that Breanna made part of his soul divine and the other part mortal.  I have to admit it’s only speculation at this point though.  The only person that truly knows is Jonathan, or rather the Jonathan that came back from Breanna.”

            “So what does that all mean?” Jonathan asked fearfully.

            “What I think,” Hope explained carefully, “is that you still possess your memories, but they’re locked away in the divine part of your soul.  I believe that is where all that knowledge and last few hours of Earth memory are located.  That would explain the empty rooms that you and Midaen observed.  Those are your mortal memory, and the last few hours of Earth were in the divine part of your soul.”

            “Why did you have me hum?”

            Hope chuckled, “You’re quick, Jonathan.  I believe that the singing is some aspect of your divine soul showing itself.  I remember before, when you bound yourself to your axe, that you sang.  Again, when you opened the portal to this plane you sang.  Something about it allows you to draw more power out of the Heart, but I confess,” she said with some chagrin, “that I don’t know how it works, why, or if I’m even remotely close to being right.  I’m speaking of a realm of magic that I’ve never dealt with.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “When you sang before, back on Earth, you drew more power than fifty normal Druids,” she said bluntly.  “If I were to even attempt to draw that much power, I would die in an instant, and before I even got to a tenth of your power.”

            “Truly,” Kamama agreed, “I could feel it when you bonded yourself to your axe, though I didn’t know what was happening.  Alewisdisgv adanvdo.”

            Midaen looked confused for a moment, “I’m sorry?”

            Kamama seemed to realize what she said and explained, “Heartstopping.  Sorry, sometimes I slip back into my native tongue.  But even halfway around the world from where it was happening, I could still feel it.  When he opened the portal to this realm, I was terrified.  I had never felt that much power.”

            “So somehow the singing increases my power?”

            “Not necessarily.  I’m not sure what it is, but I think it’s a different way of using the power of the Heart that doesn’t react the same way.  I honestly don’t know,” Hope said, shrugging her shoulders.  “I think that in time you will regain your memories though.  If I’m right the two halves of your soul will merge eventually, like they had before we left Earth.”

            “What do we do till then?” Midaen asked curiously.

            “Well, for now, we continue as we have.  Nothing will change for a while, and we need to get Jonathan trained as fast as possible.  He needs to have at least a basic understanding of fighting and then he will be trained in Druidic magic.”

            “Well, now for a more important topic,” Jagal said, standing up.

            The group looked curiously at him as he paced for a moment, then turned back to the group.

            “This is a most serious discussion, and I want everyone here to realize the gravity of the situation.”

            “What is it, Jagal,” Hope asked with growing concern.

            “Dinner,” Jagal said, suddenly grinning.

            The tension in the group was broken suddenly when everyone started laughing, then Kamama decided to get even for Jagal’s little joke, and conjured a gallon of water over Jagal’s head.  Jagal sputtered for a moment, then laughed with the rest of the group.

            The next day dawned clear and cold for the group.  Jonathan awoke to see that everyone else was still asleep, but he sensed something that was making him uneasy.  He walked a little away from camp to relieve himself, and the feeling intensified.  He knew there was something there.  The feeling was so strong he decided to go investigate.

            Before he set out, some of Jagal’s training kicked in though.  He hurried back to camp, picked up his belt, and fitted his knife onto the belt.  He stuck a small dagger Jagal had given him into the top of his boot, and picked up his axe off the ground.  He was just slipping the harness over his shoulder when Jagal spoke.

            “Going somewhere?”

            “I’m investigating something,” Jonathan said without turning around, adjusting the harness on his shoulders.

            “What?” Jagal asked curiously.

            “I’m not sure.  But I feel it.  Can’t you?” Jonathan asked, turning to look at Jagal.  To his surprise, Jagal was fully clothed and armed to the teeth.  Apparently Jagal intended to accompany him.

            “I don’t feel anything.  But if there’s something I’ve learned over the years, it’s trust your feelings.  That has saved my life more than I can say.  If you say there’s something there, there’s something there.  You ready?”

            “Yes, let’s go.”

            “Not without me you’re not,” Kamama said, surprising them both.  “You don’t know what you’re going into, so you might need some magical assistance.  Neither of you can depend on magic right now.”

            Jonathan merely nodded his head and set out.  The sensation was driving him insane, and he just had to see what it was.  The walked for almost an hour, only pausing once to allow Kamama to answer a message from Hope.  She assured Hope that they were all right, merely investigating something.  They’d keep in contact, but didn’t know when they’d be back.

            The continued walking almost the entire morning, when Jonathan stopped on the crest of a small hill and looked out.  In front of the trio, at the bottom of the hill, was a large lake.  At the center of that lake was a very small island with what appeared to be a small hut.  At the foot of the hill was a small row boat.

            “Jonathan, is this was you felt?” Kamama asked curiously.

            “It’s there,” he said, pointing at the hut.

            “Do you know what it is?” Jagal asked as his eyes scanned their surroundings.

            “I’m not sure.  Something is in there though.”

            “Something, or someone?”

            “There’s only one way to find out,” Jonathan said, then started down the hill to the small boat.

            There were no oars in the boat, so Kamama conjured a pair.  After putting the oars into the oarlocks, the trio set out across the lake.  After a few moments of rowing, however, the oars were destroyed.  Kamama did a quick spell, then cursed.

            “What is it Kamama?” Jonathan asked.

            “The lake is acid.  Don’t put any part of your body over the side.”

            “What do we do now?  We’re already part way out into the lake, and oars will just melt in the acid.”

            “Let me think for a moment,” Kamama said.

            Jonathan sat there for a moment, the sensation he was feeling getting stronger by the minute.  On impulse, he drew his axe from its holster and looked at it.  His eyes traced the glyphs in its surface, and suddenly, as he traced the third glyph, the axe started to glow a faint blue.  At first, he didn’t notice, but Jagal drew his attention to it.

            “Jonathan, what are you doing?” Jagal asked.

            “I didn’t do anything,” Jonathan said, the saw the glow on his axe.  “Huh,” he said in amazement, “I wonder how that happened.”

            “Dip me in the lake.”

            “What did you say?” Jonathan asked Jagal.

            “I didn’t say anything.”

            “Did you hear it,” Jonathan asked Kamama.

            “Hear what?”

            “Dip me in the lake.”

            The second time it happened, Jonathan felt the axe in his hands get warm.  He recoiled in surprise when he realized that it was his axe speaking to him.

            He looked from his axe to Kamama and Jagal and said shakily, “My axe is speaking to me.”

            Both his companions were surprised for a moment, then Jagal said, “That has been said to happen from time to time, with truly powerful weapons.  What did it say?”

            “It said to dip it in the lake.”

            Jagal motioned to Jonathan to go ahead, and Jonathan carefully dipped the blade of the axe into the acidic lake.  When the final glyph on the axe head was submerged in the acid, the blade started to glow a bright blue.  As the light intensified, the acid started to bubble and foam.  Suddenly the foaming stopped, and the light shot out across the lake faster than the trio could follow with their eyes.  Jonathan, assuming the axe was finished with whatever it was doing, pulled it into the boat.  The blade was completely dry as he pulled it out, and no damage had been done.

            Kamama assessed the acid and gasped.  Her probing spell reported that the entire lake had been turned to water.

            “It’s normal,” she said shakily.

            “What do you mean,” Jagal asked.

            “It’s water.  Pure, clean water,” she said astonished.  “I never felt anything, but that axe did something that changed it into water.”

            Jonathan was shocked, partly because his axe had the power to change the composition of such a large lake.  But mostly, he was shocked because he had felt something.  It was similar to the feeling coming from the hut, but different at the same time.  He lapsed into thoughtful silence as Jagal picked up another pair of oars Kamama conjured and started to row to the hut again, this time with no problems.

            When they reached the shore, something told Jonathan to keep his axe out, so he carried it lightly in his left hand as they slowly walked up to the door of the hut.  They made it to about twenty feet from the door when it suddenly opened.  From the interior of the hut came a large built man wearing a simple linen tunic and pants.  His grey hair was dramatically offset with large, luminous purple eyes.  Most notable, however, was the obvious weapon he carried.  It was basically a long staff with a double-edged blade affixed to either end.  Jonathan racked his brain, and thought it looked a lot like a Naginata, but with two blades instead of just one.

            The trio stood there a long moment, not speaking, while they observed this strange man.  He didn’t seem overly threatening, but the obvious weapon in his hand made Jonathan nervous.  He needed to get into that hut and see what that mysterious power was.  Jonathan stepped forward, intent on talking to the man.  Just as he made his first step, the man broke his silence and spoke.

            “I have been waiting for you, Jonathan Ashton of Earth.  It is time for you to die.”