Mickey Zucker Reichert - Renshai 01 - The Last Of The Renshai

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The Last Of The Renshai

Renshai 01

Mickey Zucker Reichert

For Janny Wurts, who helped make the dream a reality,

and for The Thomas Jefferson Medical Class of 1985

who waited so patiently, each believing in his own way.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank the following people for their contributions over nine years:

Sandra Zucker, Gary Reichert, Mimi Panitch, Sue Stone, Pat LoBrutto, Sheila Gilbert, and Ray Feist for

recognizing a pearl in an oyster and encouraging me to find it.

To Joel Rosenberg and Barry Longyear for a well-timed slap. Also, Jonathan Matson and Dave

Hartlage for their usual, thankless, heroic time and effort.

But not to Dr. Mark Fabi, the only man in the world to fight me, sword to nunchaku, on an anatomy

table.

MEETING ON THE WIZARD ISLE

Year: 11,194 (Year 23 of the Reign of Buirane)

The Eastern Wizard, Shadimar, did not know how long he had sat with his elbows propped on the table

in the Cardinal Wizards' Meeting Room and his bony chin cupped into his slender, wrinkled palms; but

his hands had gone numb and long since ceased to register the cottony cascade of his beard between his

fingers. The movements or stillness of his three colleagues had grown familiar beyond notice, and the only

true mortal in the room, the bard Davrin, sat on the floor in his usual deferential silence, his mandolin

cradled in his lap.

For the last seventy years, from the day Shadimar had become one of the four true mages, chronology

had lost all meaning for him. At one time, a bird's flight across a meadow seemed to take days while, at

another, an infant might come of age between Shadimar's breakfast and lunch. At first, these lapses had

terrified him; a mad link in the chain of Eastern Wizards might harm the system that Odin the AUFather

had created at the beginning of time and nurtured in the hundreds of centuries that followed. By his law,

each of the four Cardinal Wizards selected his time to die in a glorious ceremony that passed his

memories, and those of his predecessors, to his chosenI successor. Thus, over time, the Wizards became

stronger, more knowledgeable, and more powerful.

So far, that system had operated with reasonable precision. The original Wizards had been weak,

essentially oracles and prophets. With Odin's guidance, they shaped and studied the world and its forces,

found the best or most necessary courses of action, and created prophecies that their stronger successors

would need to fulfill. Over eons, those visions had become clearer, and the abilities of the Wizards had

grown to allow them to fulfill their own predictions. Now only the oldest and most unclear of the

prophecies remained, spouted but little understood by the first Wizards, scrawled on cave walls, passed

down in the legends of generations of mortals, or simply fun-neled through the memories of previous

Wizards.

Shadimar remained unmoving, recalling how his near-immortality had muddled his time sense, making

him fear that his contribution to the line of Eastern Wizards would be insanity. But, drawing on the

memories of his predecessors, he discovered that nearly all of them had experienced a similar period of

adjustment. Over the years, as he became more comfortable with his position as Wizard, Shadimar had

grown accustomed to the leaps and pauses in time. He had learned to focus instead on the functions of

the current Eastern and Western Wizards: to fulfill a handful of prophecies, to keep the mortal populaces

believing in the gods and Wizards without violating Odin's laws of noninterference, and spreading the

cause of neutrality by mediating between the Northern and Southern Wizards, who championed good

and evil respectively.

The Southern Wizard, Carcophan, ceased his pacing and slammed a meaty fist on the tabletop. "Enough

of this waiting. He's not coming back. I say your man has failed the Tasks."

Startled from his reverie, Shadimar jerked erect in his chair, riveting his steely gaze on the keeper and

sower of the world's evil.

In the seat directly across the empty table, Tokar, the Western Wizard, remained still. His gray mane of

hair and beard framed creased features and knowing, dark eyes that remained distantly fixed. Only a

brief downward twitch of his lips revealed that the oldest of the Cardinal Wizards noticed Carcophan's

interruption.

To Shadimar's right, the Northern Sorceress, Trilless, scowled with a revulsion aimed more at her

impatient opposite than his sudden, violent gesture. She wore layers of silky white robes that frothed and

folded around her slender frame, emphasizing her fair, Northern features and snowy hair. Pale from head

to toe, she looked the epitome of the goodness she championed, almost to the point of caricature.

Though the wait involved Tokar's apprentice, it was Trilless who answered the Southern Wizard's

challenge. "Be patient, Carcophan." She cut off the words abruptly, as if to stay a natural urge to address

the Evil One with an insult. It would accomplish nothing, except to make her seem the pettier of the two.

Odin's laws forbade the Wizards from harming one another, especially on such impartial territory as the

Meeting Isle, but the enmity between the Northern and Southern Wizards had grown beyond all

proportion. "I'm more than twice your age, yet I still remember when I underwent the Seven Tasks. The

gods never made them easy. Don't begrudge Tokar's apprentice the time he needs to think.''

Shadimar nodded absently at the wisdom in Trilless' words. As intermediaries between the gods and

men, it fell to the Wizards to select their apprentices, to choose not only for power and dedication to their

god-assigned causes, but for stability and strength of character as well. To aid in the judgment, Odin had

designed a series of seven god-mediated tasks to assess the worth and surviv-ability of apprentices.

Failure at any one resulted in death. According to Shadimar's predecessors, more than half of those sent

to the Tasks did not return, yet Tokar's chosen, Haim, was the first to be tested since Shadimar himself.

The Eastern Wizard was not quite certain what to expect, but patience seemed crucial.

Lost in his thoughts, Shadimar did not notice that Carcophan had come up beside him until the Southern

Wizard stood only a hand's breadth from Shadimar and spoke into his face.

"And we wouldn't have to sit here in dark ignorance if you had placed the Pica Stone in capable hands."

The Southern Wizard's yellow-green eyes seemed to bore through his companion's gray ones. "Through

it, we could see every move that he makes, hear every syllable."

Rage suffused Shadimar, the tragedy of Myrcide still raw enough to incite anger in him. Before the

Eastern Wizard had chosen him as successor, he had lived among his people, a reclusive race of priests,

oracles, and minor magicians. During his apprenticeship, a Northern tribe of warriors, called Renshai, had

rampaged through the Westlands, devastating the Myrcidians and leaving the world with no wizards

except the Cardinal four and a handful of charlatans and fakes. He had left the clairsen-tient Pica Stone in

the hands of his people, believing it safe there. The Renshai had plundered the huge sapphire, and it

would violate Wizards' vows for Shadimar to take it back by force. He gathered breath to barrage

Carcophan for his insensitivity.

Before Shadimar could speak, a presence touched his mind. Though calm and peaceful, it startled him

into silence. Only the Wizards could communicate in this fashion, and then only with other Wizards. Yet it

was considered disrespectful to the point of assault to enter another's mind without invitation.

Tokar did not probe or search. His voice filled only a tiny, shallow portion of Shadimar's mind. "Best not

to imitate the Evil One's weaknesses. You are above that." Then the presence disappeared.

Shock shattered Shadimar's anger. Though Tokar had phrased his warning carefully, it still came as a

surprise. It made sense for the oldest and wisest of the Wizards to advise the youngest and weakest,

especially since the Eastern and Western Wizards shared the burden of balancing good and evil and

protecting the peoples of the area known as the Westlands. Yet Tokar, like the Western Wizards before

him, was the most powerful and aloof of the four. He had never previously chosen to communicate with

Shadimar in this manner. The Eastern Wizard could only guess that the tension of discovering whether his

chosen successor had passed the task touched Tokar more than his quiet exterior revealed.

Subdued and forgotten on the floor, Davrin strummed a string of chords on his mandolin, the sound

barely audible in the silence that followed Carcophan's accusation. A square-cut shroud of gray-flecked

brown hair hid the bard's dark eyes and placid features. He had no purpose in the ceremony except to

observe and record like his mother before him and her father before her.

Put off by Shadimar's lack of response, Carcophan whirled toward Trilless, with a suddenness that sent

his salt-and-pepper hair whipping into a wild tangle.

The Sorceress remained still, not sparing the Southern Wizard so much as a glance.

Carcophan edged toward her, presumably to agitate. But before he could take a second step, a door

that had not existed a moment before opened in the far wall, and Tokar's apprentice appeared through it.

Haim's normally rosy Pudarian features looked a waxy yellow. Though only in his mid-twenties, he now

had white hairs hanging conspicuously among his dark curls. He seemed to have aged a century since the

combined Wizards' magics had sent him to the Tasks earlier that same day. He tottered forward, eyes

moist and features shaken.

Shadimar recalled his own success with the Tasks of Wizardry, remembered feeling triumphant,

confident, and revitalized at the conclusion, despite the difficulty of the challenge. Scanning the memories

of his predecessors, Shadimar found the same remembrance of their own trials. Concerned by Haim's

weakness, Shadimar frowned, glancing at his colleagues questioningly.

Tokar and Trilless had raised icy lack of expression to an art form. Reading nothing on their faces,

Shadimar turned his attention to the least patient Wizard. He glanced at Carcophan just in time to see the

keeper of evil draw a dagger from the folds of his cloak. Carcophan lunged at the returning apprentice.

Haim recoiled with a gasp. Slowed by fatigue, he did not move quickly enough. Carcophan's knife

jabbed through his robes at the level of his heart.

Instinctively, Haim clasped his chest, staring at the Southern Wizard in wide-eyed horror. He fell to one

knee.

But the knife emerged bloodless, as Shadimar knew it must. There could be no wound. Those who

survived the Seven Tasks could not be harmed by any object of Odin's world. Like the Cardinal

Wizards, nothing short of the conjured magical creatures called demons or the Swords of Power could

harm Haim; though, until Tokar's passing, Haim could still fall prey to mortal illnesses and old age.

Carcophan returned his knife to its hiding place. Turning on his heel, he calmly returned to his seat at the

farthest end of the table from Trilless, chuckling beneath his breath along the way.

Haim rose with a slow shakiness that caused Shadimar to worry that the youth had survived the attack,

only to die of fear. Trilless scowled, but she did not come to the aid of Tokar's apprentice. Any lessons

or comforting must come from the Western Wizard.

The room lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Concerned by the weakness and insecurity of the one who

would become trained to the position of Western Wizard, Shadimar discarded propriety and extended

his mind to touch Tokar's. He hoped to catch a thread of the reason why Tokar had chosen Haim as his

successor.

But Shadimar's projection entered only the most superficial corner of Tokar's mind, neatly enclosed by

mental defenses he could never hope to defeat, even if he had wanted to enrage his stronger ally.

What is it you wish from me, Shadimar? Tokar kept his thought as patient as his person, yet the

undertone rang through clearly. Shadimar's entrance into his mind was an ill-mannered intrusion.

Shadimar kept his answer general, not wanting to speculate too much while linked with Tokar. I only

wondered if there were things I should know about Haim. He emphasized the pronoun to explain his use

of nonverbal communication.

I think not. There was veiled annoyance beneath the response that quickly turned to bland caution. I

know him well enough to see things you do not. Haim is young. I have three or five decades to work on

experience and confidence. The Western Wizard made a subtle, dismissing gesture that bid Shadimar

leave his mind.

Shadimar obeyed, not wholly satisfied with the explanation. As he withdrew, he thought he caught a faint

feeling of doubt, but he could not be sure whether it came from the Western Wizard or as backlash of his

own concerns. Tokar's composure did little to ease Shadimar's mind; tranquillity was the Western

Wizard's trademark. Should the newest in the line of Wizards prove too weak, the memories of his

predecessors might overwhelm him. Of them all, this was especially true of the Western line. For reasons

Shadimar could not fathom, Odin had decreed that it would always have the most power, while the

Northern and Southern lines should stay equal, and the Eastern should remain the weakest.

Perhaps Tokar wants his successor to be feeble, so that he can overpower Haim from within and remain

in control past his time. The thought seemed ludicrous. Why would he do such a thing when he could

simply wait to choose an apprentice and remain in power several more centuries ? Tokar had served as

Western Wizard for longer than six hundred years; but according to Shadimar's inherited memories,

others had remained in power nearly a millennium. Since each Wizard chose his own time of passing,

there was no specific criterion for such a decision. At some point, each Wizard simply found the time

right to expire, and only a rare one had lost his life early to demons or to one of the Swords of Power.

The silence grew unreasonably long, even for a meeting of near-immortals. Davrin did not strum, though

his lips moved as he composed a song. Haim stood with his head bowed, waiting for his master to speak.

Even Car-cophan sat in stony quiet.

At length, Tokar broke the hush. "You have finished the Seven Tasks of Wizardry.''

Shadimar frowned, even his vast patience tried. It seemed nonsensical for the Western Wizard to wait

so long to voice a self-evident statement.

"I have," Haim replied as formally.

"And the eighth task?" Tokar continued.

Now all of the Wizards shifted forward to hear the answer, the rustle of robes and cloaks disrupting the

stillness.

"There is no eighth task." Haim parroted the instructions given to him just before the Cardinal Wizards'

magic had sent him to face his destiny.

Tokar questioned further. "But one was offered to you?"

"Yes." Haim looked at the Wizards uneasily, specifically avoiding Carcophan's piercing, cat-like stare.

"The Keeper of the eighth task offered me a chance at ultimate power, even over the gods. As you

advised, I refused it. There is no eighth task."

Though often quoted among the Cardinal Wizards, the final statement was not wholly true, at least in

Shadimar's experience. The decision to refuse or accept the task itself seemed a test of judgment. In the

millennia since Odin had created the Tasks of Wizardry, no survivor of the tasks had ever chosen to

attempt the eighth one. Shadimar had no way of knowing for certain, but it followed that some of the

potential Wizards had tried the task. And it followed equally as naturally that every one who tried it had

failed and died. Each Wizard held his or her own theory, but Shadimar believed that Odin had added the

eighth task to protect the gods, the world, and the system of Wizardry. Surely, anyone interested in

ultimate power could not be trusted to obey the many laws that hemmed in and restricted the Wizards,

and he guessed that the simple act of accepting the eighth task meant failing it.

"Did the Keeper say anything more?" Tokar asked.

Every breath and movement became clearly audible as the silence waxed even deeper. Usually the

Keeper did nothing more than offer the task. But when he did speak, his words were always of the

greatest significance.

"He did," Haim said. His gaze darted from rapt face to face. Apparently intimidated, he chose to focus

on his master's feet as he spoke. "He said that the age of change would begin during Shadimar's reign."

Trilless gasped. It was the first time Shadimar had seen the keeper of all goodness lose her composure.

Davrin clutched his mandolin so tightly his fingers blanched on the frets. Even Carcophan looked pale and

shaken.

An ancient prophecy flashed into Shadimar's mind, words carved on a wall in the Crypts of Kor N'rual

by the original Northern Wizard. Committed to writing, this first prophecy had survived the longest,

known not only by the Wizards, but by the few adventurous Northmen who happened to explore the

cliffs in the wilderness outside what had once been the tribal city of Renshi:

In the age of change

When Chaos shatters Odin's ward

And the Cardinal Wizards forsake their vows

A Renshai shall come forward.

Hero of the Great War

He will hold legend and destiny in his hand

And wield them like a sword.

Too late shall he be known unto you:

The Golden Prince of Demons.

Not all about the prophecy seemed clear, but one part left little doubt in any Wizard's mind. The age of

change referred to the Ragnarok, the apocalyptic war that would result in the virtual destruction of all life,

including the gods. Shadimar shivered. Certainly, against this threat, even Trilless and Carcophan would

band together. And Shadimar reminded himself a hundred times in the next second that prophecies did

not just occur by destiny; it was the Wizards' job to see them fulfilled.

Only Tokar seemed unaffected by Haim's pronouncement. "The Keeper said the age of change, or an

age of change?"

Haim shifted from foot to foot, looking like an errant child caught daydreaming during an important

lesson. "Master, I'm almost certain he said the age of change. He said that Carcophan would incite the

Great War.''

Forgetting his manners, Shadimar interrupted. "The Keeper mentioned Carcophan by name? And

myself?"

Haim glanced at Shadimar. "Yes, lord."

"And us?" Tokar regained control of the proceedings with a warning glare at Shadimar. "Did he say

whether you or I would carry out the Western Wizard's portion of the prophecies?''

Haim whipped his attention back to Tokar. "No, master. He did not mention either of us. Nor the Lady

Trilless either." He inclined his head to indicate the Sorceress. "In fact, he said nothing more."

Shadimar grappled with the information. Each Wizard knew his role in the Great War, though some in

more detail than others. Parts of the prophecies had been lost; at least one premature death of a Wizard

had interrupted both the Eastern and Southern lines, taking with them all previous memories. By piecing

together legends and Wizards' writings, Shadimar knew that the Great War would pit evil against

neutrality in the bloodiest battle the world had ever seen. Trilless' people, the Northmen, would have little

or no involvement. The stories conflicted as to who would triumph.

Long contemplation of the Great War always frightened Shadimar. As the Eastern Wizard, his loyalties

lay with the Westlands. Should evil win, nothing would stand between good and evil, and the wars would

rage for eternity, or until one or the other triumphed. Yet if neutrality completely defeated evil, there

would remain no force to equalize Trilless' good. The weakest of the Wizards cleared his throat. Should

such a thing happen, goodness would lose all meaning, and he could not discount the possibility that the

loss of symmetry alone would plunge the world into the Ragnarok. "Colleagues, it's certain that nothing

positive can come of the Great War. If either side wins, it would disrupt the very balance we were

created to uphold."

Tokar nodded his support without a trace of the passion that had filled Shadimar's words. Trilless said

nothing. The matter did not involve her. A brief silence followed, shattered abruptly by Carcophan's

laughter. "Balance?" He laughed again, with malice. "My Wizard's vows and duties say nothing of

balance. But they do say that I must fulfill the prophecies set up for me by Southern Wizards down

through eternity." He rose, anticipation dancing in his yellow-green eyes. "There will be a Great War, a

bloody rampage like nothing your weak mind could imagine. If you choose not to oppose me, I will be

disappointed, but it will only make my job that much easier." Piece spoken, he rose from his chair and

stomped out the only exit from the Meeting Room.

Surprised and crushed by the unexpected hostility of Carcophan's opposition, Shadimar said nothing. He

had misjudged completely, and he needed time to understand his mistake. It had all seemed so clear to

him. Carcophan 's refusal is folly. Surely even the Southern Wizard can see the danger. If the Ragnarok

annihilates the world, who will remain to espouse his beloved philosophies of evil?

Trilless rose. Though slender and graceful, she maintained an aura of great power. "It pains me to side

with the Evil One, but he's right this time. Though he supports the wrong cause, he is as honor bound to

Odin as any of us." She glanced toward the door, obviously reluctant to remain on neutral territory while

her opposite wove his evil into mortals unopposed. But the captain of the ship that carried the Wizards to

and from the Meeting Isle was one of her own minions. He would not return Carcophan to the world

without her presence to balance his. "It's our duty to the gods to fulfill whatever prophecies our

predecessors created. To abandon that duty would mean forsaking our Wizards' vows and would bring

the very Ragnarok you intended to avoid." Unwilling to wait any longer, she hurried after Carcophan.

Shadimar went utterly still. His neutral position surely gave him a clearer view of the consequences, and

he could see nothing but disaster coming in the wake of the Great War.

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TheLastOfTheRenshai Renshai01 MickeyZuckerReichert ForJannyWurts,whohelpedmakethedreamareality, andforTheThomasJeffersonMedicalClassof1985 whowaitedsopatiently,eachbelievinginhisownway. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Iwouldliketothankthefollowingpeoplefortheircontributionsovernineyears: SandraZucker,GaryReichert,M...

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