Still Waters

Every day began with the sound of a gong. It echoed through the caverns and tunnels, piercing the near-silent shadows with its call. All were expected to promptly obey and rise; those that did not were subject to punishment.

Normally Arrashan would wake with the gong, but its tone found him already awake, almost as though he had not slept at all the previous night. The pale phosphorescent glow from one wall sank into his black hair and gave his skin a sickly, greenish cast, but that was a normal occurrence. Only under the light of the moons above, or the light of torches, was is plain that his skin, like the skin of all his people, was so pale as to be almost white.

Arrashan stood at the foot of his bed, eyes closed in meditation. Nightmares and night visions, that is all my dreams are, he told himself. They don't mean anything. Put them from my mind, that's what I need to do. Drive them away; they mean nothing, they are nothing. Sighing, he opened his eyes, no closer to pushing aside his dreams than he was when he first woke up.

The gong sounded again, and Arrashan moved surely to the clothespress at the side of his bed to remove the clothes he would wear that day. Once dressed, he walked surely out into the tunnel hall and towards the dining hall, head held high.

"Well, if it isn't the chosen one. Running a little late, are we?"

Arrashan looked down at the two younger students and gave them a cool nod. "I will have plenty of time to finish my tasks, provided you get out of my way," he said softly. His eyes glowed blue with suppressed power, and the two younger men backed away from him. Although they had lightly and mockingly called him the chosen one, Arrashan held claim to that title and they knew it.

Brushing past them, Arrashan continued down the hallway, not letting his expression change until he was out of their sight. Idiots. They only know what I am capable of. They don't realize I would never use that power on them.

He strode into the dining hall as though he owned the place, getting his meal then sitting down at an isolated table. Camaraderie wasn't exactly encouraged in the school, but even with the atmosphere of strict competition uneasy truces and alliances would form. There was a hierarchy among the students, and Arrashan was at the top. Always alone, never by choice. He watched the other students talking, watched them never quite looking at where he sat. A cold, tight smile played at the corners of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. I am far more powerful than they are, after all. The one success among the failures. In a short time I will have control of their very lives. Any one of them would love to be in my place, never realizing that I want more than anything to not have this place.

"Arrashan, you were late. Do you have a reason?" The midnight-robed form of the high priest stood beside the table where Arrashan sat.

"Not particularly, except I knew I would not inconvenience myself or any other member of the school if I came to breakfast later than the rest of the students. As you can see, High Priest Drakiss, I am already finished eating," Arrashan replied, standing up smoothly.

Drakiss nodded slowly. "So I see. Since you have already finished eating you need to begin your lessons." The older man didn't wait for an answer; he just stalked away towards the training rooms.

Lessons. I'm three ten-cycles away from the tests to become a full mage, and I still have to go to lessons. Arrashan left his dishes on the table and walked off in the direction Drakiss had gone.


Drakiss pursed his lips together as his watched Arrashan half-heartedly go through the motions of the spells he was practicing. "No, no, no!," the high priest half-shouted. "Aggression! That is the key. You must be aggressive. Try it again."

Scowling, Arrashan focused once more on the small, helpless creatures running around the stone enclosure and hissed out the command phrase to the destructive spell, using his annoyance and frustration with Drakiss to fuel the blast. I don't want to destroy things without a good reason, and practicing isn't a good reason.

"Much better, boy," Drakiss said, his syllables hissing slightly. "Much better. The power is there for the taking, and you have been able to grasp it since you were four years old. You have more command over it than any of your fellows, now use it."

Arrashan nodded, a motion barely perceptible. "Yes, sir. If you will excuse me, I have other lessons I must attend." He turned and walked out of the practice room, fighting to keep his face impassive. What would Drakiss have thought if he knew I only did that because I was angry with him....

Moving quickly down the hall, Arrashan stopped in his room long enough to gather up his weapons. The "lesson" with Drakiss had taken longer than he expected; now he was running late to the lessons he did care about.


When Arrashan opened the door to the training room, the instructor didn't even look up. "You're late, 'Shan. What reason do you have?"

"Other lessons ran longer than I expected, Master Kaer. I apologize for my lateness, and I am ready to take whatever punishment you deem fit," Arrashan explained simply.

"As your reason has merit I don't see a need to punish you for your late arrival, but you will have to occupy your time with another sparring partner for most of the day. I think...Lord Kiraliss will be a good challenge for you, at least until your classmates understand the basics of today's lesson."

Looking around the room, Arrashan was able to spot Lord Kiraliss, the only person besides the weaponsmaster over the age of twenty. Skardal...Master Kaer knew I would be late. He planned for it. He approached the older man with respect, recognizing him for what he was; a powerful nobleman with a high position in the armies of the clans. Arrashan bowed cautiously to his opponent, never quite taking his eyes off the man, even for a moment.

"Well, Chosen One, shall we begin? I came here at your master's request, after all," Lord Kiraliss said softly. He didn't need to raise his voice.

"Please." Arrashan drew his sword and took up a standard guard position, then went through several warm-up exercises with Lord Kiraliss before they began sparring in earnest.


"You are very good, Chosen One. That's the first time I've been bested and put off balance in at least five years. When the time comes that you command the armies, we will be assured victory. We will retake the lands that were once ours." Lord Kiraliss spoke with great fervor.

"I told you 'Shan was good, my lord," Skardal said, coming up next to them. The other students had all left. "He's a natural when it comes to this, and to magic. Almost a genius in some respects. He's developing his own fighting style."

"Master Kaer...it isn't really all that special. You don't need to go on about it," Arrashan protested. I'm not what everybody thinks I am...what they want me to be. Maybe I can become that, though.

"You'll be taking your tests soon, 'Shan. That is one of them, and in my eyes you have already passed it. I'm allowed to comment on it if I so choose." Skardal's face didn't lose its serious expression, but it was plain that he greatly approved of Arrashan's skills.

"I...thank you, Master Kaer. Now, I should get back to my room. It's getting late." Bowing to both older men, Arrashan left the training room.


Practicing until he was exhausted did nothing to stop the dreams that teased at Arrashan's mind. Meditation did nothing to banish them, and speaking of them was out of the question. They had no place, no part, in the world of caverns and tunnels, and the world they did belong to was alien and frightening. It was a world few of his people had ever seen, and none had seen it in the way the dreams portrayed it.

The dreams made it more difficult for him to sleep, and he found himself spending long hours of the night pondering their meaning in the shadows and pale green light. During the day nothing changed, but even then memories of the dreams would intrude.

Why do I dream of things I can never possibly obtain? Arrashan wondered as he ate his morning meal, separate from the others, as always. These dreams make no sense, and at the same time they make perfect sense. A hand on his shoulder brought him from his musings, and he looked with cold eyes at the intruder. It was Drakiss.

"Finish your meal quickly, then come to the temple. Rather than wait, you will be tested today. The Lady has so commanded," the high priest said softly, words flowing like silk through the air.

"I can come now. I was lingering over my meal to begin with." Arrashan rose and looked fearlessly into the high priest's jet eyes.

"Very well, then. Fetch your weapons, then report to the temple. You will be required to bathe in the antechamber and dress in the clothes you find there. Only then may you enter the temple. Be prompt." His message delivered, Drakiss left the dining hall.

Arrashan left the dining hall and got his weapons, then made his way to the temple and his test. Why the change, I wonder? Could it be the dreams?

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he entered the antechamber and bathed quickly, then dressed in the clothes he found there. He took care with his appearance, leaving the chamber only when he was satisfied with it, even if he wasn't satisfied with the readiness of his mind.

Two priests stood by the ornate doors to the main cavern of the temple, guarding the realm of the Lady of Night against all intruders. Those priests opened the doors as Arrashan came towards them; they were expecting him.

With none of the light-giving fungus on the walls, the temple beyond the doors was pitch black. The two priests ushered Arrashan into the darkness of the temple, closing the doors behind him. Faint, violet light appeared at the edges of the room, tracing complicated, twisting patterns in the stone.

"Arrashan Grymreaver, Chosen One. Do not lurk in the doorway like a child. You are not a child." The woman's voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, filling the chamber with its sound. Arrashan walked further into the room, no more able than anyone else to disobey the dark Lady of the Night.

This is my destiny. No childish dreams can change that. Standing proudly in the middle of the chamber, Arrashan looked forward to the point where the violet threads of light converged.

"But what if those dreams aren't childish? What if this isn't your destiny, my child?" The breathy voice was no less powerful than that of the Dark Lady, but it did not echo throughout the chamber. The words were whispered in Arrashan's mind alone.

The Dark Lady's voice filled the chamber again. "You will be the prince, no, the king of my children...if you survive!"

Violet light flared, brightening and revealing the chamber fully. Seated on a dais at the far end of the room, still wreathed in shadows, was a woman who could only be the Dark Lady. However, between Arrashan and her were fifteen rock dragons. Their only target was Arrashan, and they could see him very clearly.

"She doesn't care whether you live or die, you know. She's waited this long for her chosen to appear, and she is perfectly willing to wait longer. I care, though. I would never do something like this," the breathy voice whispered in his mind.

Hissing a curse, Arrashan pushed the voice away, concentrating on staying alive. A few choice words brought up a crackling shield of energy around him, and four of the vicious reptiles slammed into it, their scaly hides scorching and melting from the raw energy coursing over them. By manipulating the shield, he let three of the creatures near him--one at a time--and dispatched them with his sword and close-range magic.

As their acidic life-blood hissed to the ground, Arrashan pulled the power released by their deaths into himself, using it to trap five more of the creatures in shackles of midnight power. Clenching his hand into a fist, he squeezed the life out of them, drawing it into himself.

"You know this is wrong. These creatures have done nothing to you. You don't have to fight." The voice was a distraction, making it hard for Arrashan to concentrate.

All that matters now is survival. I can't think about these things as living creatures. Arrashan used the life-force from the five rock dragons he just killed to throw fire at the remaining three, roasting them where they stood. They fell into piles of ash and bones on the floor.

"What a waste, just to prove your power," the voice continued as Arrashan stood in the middle of the chamber, panting heavily. He couldn't ignore those words any longer, and found himself agreeing with them. His eyes hardened in anger, anger at himself for going along with this death-play, and anger at the goddess who forced his hand.

Who are you? What do you want of me? Although no malice came from the whispering voice, Arrashan was tired of its touch on his mind.

"The mother of your soul, little one. The bringer of your dreams."

The Dark Lady rose from her throne and stepped to the edge of the dais. "Come here, king of my children. Let me feel your bloodlust, your hatred. Show me your mind." Her voice was persuasive and commanding. Unwillingly, Arrashan stepped towards the dais, letting the Lady see all his thoughts. The thoughts that none of her children ever had since they were first created.

"What are you?" she hissed. "Your thoughts are not those of my children." Her eyes bored into Arrashan's, compelling him to speak, to answer her question that he could not answer.

"He is mine, sister. He is none of yours. He is a child of prophecy, but it is my prophecy he fulfills." The voice was louder, filling the chamber with a different tone than the Dark Lady's.

"He is not yours, he is mine as all his people are! You cannot have him, sister!" the Dark Lady cried, her voice harsh like a dark bird of doom. "His death will end your prophecy!"

"No, sister. You shall not kill him. Not him or any other like him. They are mine."

A fresh, cool breeze blew through the cavern, wrapping around Arrashan and pulling him from the temple and the caverns, from all he has ever known. The Dark Lady's harsh voice called after him, banishing him from her realm. He closed his eyes tightly, and when he dared to open them, he was resting by a pool of still water, surrounded by trees and looking up at the star filled night sky. Resting under his head is a heavy traveling cloak.

I am alone, an exile in a world I know nothing about. With that realization, Arrashan took the cloak and wraped it around himself, then set off toward a break in the trees.

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