The Fenimeldiyaan: Stolen Time - Chapter 1

STORY:

Yet another vacation gone wrong. When Andreas Cesario arrives in Vordelle for some well-deserved downtime, he instead finds himself eighteen years in the future. The last of the dark wizards, Set and Jezebel, have teamed up to take over the world, one country at a time. The castle of Vordelle, Zor, has fallen, and Set has the power of Chronomancy. He has gone into the past and brought prisoners with him; but his true goal is to eliminate Andreas from the equation, his greatest opponent. With the assistance of Corttanians, a Colnian, and Merlin and his "niece", as well as the children of his friends, Andreas must defeat Set and return Vordelle to its natural state.

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Gremeldah looked around the busy street, adjusting the hood of her cloak to cover her bright green curls.  From what she had seen so far, the Vordellans did not seem to go in for dyeing their hair, or at least if they did, they stuck to natural hair colours.  She spent a few minutes observing the passers-by like she always did when arriving in a new place.  Her research on Vordellan society and culture had only been minimal, since she preferred to learn by experience instead of merely reading about it in books and on computer databases.

On hearing music coming from a nearby tavern, she paused at the door to listen.  It seemed very timid and restrained in comparison with Virian music.  Thinking that perhaps she could persuade the landlord to let her demonstrate a few of her favourite folk tunes, she entered the tavern, remembering to use her alchemy skills to turn the Virian fen in her pocket into Vordellan currency.

She had already picked up the basics of the language by eavesdropping on a few conversations in the marketplace and streets, so she went up to the bar and asked for a tankard of ale, naming a brand which she had just heard another patron requesting.  The bartender’s eyebrows raised slightly on hearing her obvious foreign accent, but she had the money to pay for her drink, so he was happy to serve her.

“Might I speak with the landlord, please?” she enquired.

“He’s not here right now, but he left me in charge” the bartender replied.  “What can I do for you?”

“I be a travelling musician and I like to entertain folks by playing a few tunes wherever I go”.  She put on her best smile.  “Would it be possible for me to play something?”  She gestured to the piano in the corner, which was currently being played by a bored-looking middle-aged man.

The barman shook his head.  “Not sure if the boss would like that.  And old Ernie might take exception to a foreigner ousting him.  No offence meant, but he’s been playing here for years.  Part of the furniture, you might say”.

Gremeldah tried to hide her disappointment.  “Ah, well, never mind.  No harm in asking.  And no offence taken.  I did tell ye I be a traveller and I be far from home”.  She smiled at him before walking away from the bar counter.

She surveyed the tables, wondering if any of the patrons would like company.  Most of them seemed completely oblivious to everything except for their drinks, so she pulled back her hood and made a point of running her fingers through her bright green curls. 

Several people looked up but soon returned to their drinks and their conversations.  Only one man continued to look at her, peering out from beneath his black cowl.  She grinned and made her way over to where he was sitting.

Turning on her smile again, she addressed the mysterious black-clad man.  “Good day to ye, sir.  I be Gremeldah Dowd, a traveller from another land, visiting yer fair city.  I were wondering if ye’d like some company?”

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Set viewed the woman in front of him, looking more past her odd physical appearance and more at the strange aura of magic around her. Smirking inwardly, he realised that, not only was she a member of the Fenian Galaxy, she was a Chronomage. It wasn’t difficult to read into her magic and determine that. Hmm … that could be useful. Set motioned to the seat opposite him, smiling. “Have a seat. And welcome to Vordelle. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Gremeldah shook her head, sitting down across from Set. He noted her green hair with a little confusion, but decided it must be Fenian oddity. He laid his elbow on the table, stroking the handle of his mug thoughtfully as he considered her. Chronomancy … an interesting form of magic. And one that no-one in Vordelle possessed. That decided it for him. He smiled at Gremeldah. “If you’re not from Vordelle, then perhaps I can convince you to allow me to take you around? It would be my pleasure and honour to do so. And perhaps we could discuss the intricacies of magic while we’re at it.”

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Elsa Silvereye-Hunt rubbed her forehead in irritation. Three months pregnant, and Gerald didn’t understand her desire for one thing: Peace and quiet. The man was prattling on and on about something or other, and she sat in the study of their apartments at Zor. Finally, she could handle it no longer. “Gerald, would you please stop talking?” she demanded.

“Eh?” he said, looking at her for the first time. “What’s the matter?”

“I just want some peace and quiet. Please. I’m still struggling with morning sickness and all that. And you are giving me a massive headache,” she snapped.

“Oh. Sorry. I just be excited to show Andreas around Vordelle. Hopefully, we be getting a peaceful vacation this time, after that disaster in his home.”

Elsa grimaced. “Don’t even remind me.” She rested her hand on her stomach. “And don’t remind Morgan, either. That witch … I can’t believe she tried to steal our child.”

“Have ye given any thought to what we name our child?” Gerald asked, sitting in the chair across from her. He wanted to take her mind off of what almost happened to Elsa.

Elsa stared down at her hands. “Mm. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. If it’s a boy, we’re naming it after you.”

“Eh, I’m not so enthusiastic ‘bout that,” Gerald admitted. “Me name be me father’s name.”

“But it’s also your name,” Elsa pointed out. “And you have a fine name.”

“And if be a girl, ye want to name her after yerself?”

Elsa shook her head. “No. My mother, Eleanor. If the baby is a girl, her name will be Leanora.”

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Gremeldah’s eyes lit up.  “Ye be a sorcerer too?”  That much she had been able to determine from a surface scan, but the rest of his mind was closed to her.  Still, she preferred to get to know people in the conventional way, especially when she was away from home.  “I weren’t even sure if sorcery be permitted on Vordelle”.

“I wouldn’t exactly use the term permitted” Set replied.  “The ruling class certainly don’t approve.  It’s more a question of what people like us can get away with.  Most of us with powers prefer to lie low and not draw attention to ourselves”.

She blushed a little and ran her fingers through her curls again.  “Oh, the hair don’t have anything to do with powers.  Tis just dye.  I got bored of me natural colour.  And tis very kind of ye to offer to show me around.  I love exploring new places, but it can be confusing without a local guide”.

“So you travel a lot, do you?” he asked.

“Aye, I get bored of being in the same place for too long” she replied, taking a sip of her ale, which was rather weak in comparison with Virian ales.  “Me Grandma reckons I must have inherited gypsy blood from me Pa’s side of the family”.

Set picked up his ale but did not drink any.  “And where do you call home?”

“Depends”.  She grinned at him and swilled her tankard around, as if trying to stir more flavour into the contents.  “I were born in Elviris, capital of Viria, but I went to study in one of the enclaves on Malvania.  Ye know, sorcery stuff”.

“Most interesting” he remarked.  “What disciplines have you studied?  We don’t tend to have formal places of study for sorcerers, which I find most regrettable”.

“Well, all new students start off learning every topic, but after a few years, the teachers help us decide what to specialise in.  Alchemy and Chronomancy were me favourites, so I went on to join the Sacred Order of Chronomages”.

“I’m reasonably well acquainted with alchemy” he commented, “but I’ve only heard of Chronomancy in passing.  Let’s start our tour and you can explain as we go”.

He stood up and gestured to the door.  She gave a slight bow.

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“Ye sure ye don’t mind me not coming to Vordelle, me love?” Anwyn asked, caressing Andreas’s bare chest and leaving a trail of sparkling sand there.

“Course not”.  He smiled and stroked his moustache.  “Them new contract negotiations with the Micario family be far more important than going on vacation.  Besides, ye can always join us later on.  I expect I’ll be there for several weeks”.

“Aye, the negotiations should only take a day or so” she answered.  “Ye must tell me if Elsa be showing a baby bump when ye see her.  And ye’d best take her some vendara leaves to help with the sickness and the pain”.

“I already packed some”.  He gestured to his overstuffed rucksack.  “I’d best get dressed.  Apollo picked out some Vordellan clothing for me so I wouldn’t stand out too much”.

“I should be getting ready too” Anwyn remarked, giving him a lingering hug.  “I’ll let ye know when I be done with the Micarios”.

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Set led Gremeldah around the city, indicating spots of interest. At the same time, keeping his emanations high, he sought out Morgan’s mind signature, tapping into it carefully. Once he was sure he’d gotten the mage’s attention, he turned back to Gremeldah. “Forgive the intrusion,” he said. “But I think I should warn you that not all Vordellans are peaceful. Some of them would seek to take advantage of your abilities of Chronomancy and alchemy.”

“Really?” Gremeldah watched him with interest.

Set nodded, touching her arm and projecting the image of Morgan and Apollo into her mind. “Those two have attempted to kill me numerous times.” He gripped her arm a little harder, pretending to just have noticed Morgan and Apollo across the street, looking for him. “Look! There they are. And they have compatriots too, ones who might come after you as well. Perhaps your magic could serve a double purpose. I’d like to have a demonstration of your power, and those two deserve no pity. Have I heard correctly that Chronomages have the ability to create prisons between time and space itself?”

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Elsa and Gerald left their apartment to go to Elaine and Daren’s. Elaine greeted her sister with a hug, as she always did lately. “How are you, Els?” she asked, pulling away.

Elsa managed a smile. “I’m alright. Still hanging in there.”

Daren smiled at Elsa, holding his and Elaine’s son Joseph in his arms. “I’m looking forward to meeting your friend, Gerald,” he said. “I met his wife quite some time ago. Funny how everything seems to fit together, isn’t it?”

“Eh, it just be coincidence,” Gerald said dismissively. “Say, where be Morgan and Apollo?”

“They went out,” Elaine said. “They said they’d be back soon. If you ask me, there was something odd about the whole thing. They were acting very strangely.”

“They always are,” Elsa put in. She sat down on the couch, and Elaine sat beside her. “Anyway, Morgan will be here. He wouldn’t miss this for the world. He’s been practicing his cooking to impress Andreas.”

“He actually be past burning the food,” Gerald added with a grin.

Elaine poked Gerald’s side none-too-gently. “He’s lost weight, cooking instead of eating,” she pointed out. “I think it’s good for him. And he enjoys it.”

“Well, even if he enjoys it, I haven’t enjoyed some of the things he’s made me try,” Daren said, giving an exaggerated shudder.

The assembled group laughed. Elaine moved the conversation off of Morgan by asking, “When will Andreas be here?”

“Soon,” Elsa said. “About an hour or so.” She heaved a sigh, sinking deeper into the couch. “But right now, this feels amazing. I’m not moving until he gets here, I promise you that.”

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Gremeldah looked across the street.  The two young men did not appear harmful, but she knew from experience never to judge by appearance alone.  “Aye, we learn to make temporal prisons, but tis one of the more advanced techniques.  They only be used for containing the most dangerous people or substances when all other measures have failed.  The usual protocol be to inform the High Council of Chronomages of the need to make one, so that they can monitor it and make sure the construction and encryption equations remain in place”.

“Well, those two miscreants have evaded capture on numerous occasions” Set declared.  “And even when the authorities have been able to catch them, they don’t stay imprisoned for long.  No matter how strong the prison, or how many sorcery wards are put in place around it, somehow they always manage to escape.  Many rumours abound.  Some say they call upon assistance from other worlds, while others believe that they can turn into liquid or gas form and leak out of any cell”.

“I wouldn’t discount the rumours” Gremeldah advised.  “Through the practice of what we call personal alchemy or transformation, often known as shapeshifting, tis possible to change the structure of yer physical body.  Right from childhood, those with powers be taught such things and spend many hours each week practising turning into furniture and other everyday items.  Most sorcery wards can only detect if a spell be cast or if someone be trying to break the wards themselves.  But they can’t detect a change of state, since it relies on the power of the mind rather than the outward casting of a spell”.

“Most interesting”.  Set smiled at her.  “But a time-lock would prevent any means of escape, wouldn’t it?  Even liquids and gases are subject to the laws of time, aren’t they?”

“Tis true to say that there be no means of escaping from a temporal prison” she affirmed, “but ye be mistaken about the nature of time.  Tis an artificial construct invented by people who wanted a method of measuring the course of their lives.  The laws of time, as ye call them, only exist in the minds of those who believe in them and try to enforce them.  We Chronomages don’t subscribe to such limited beliefs and we exist outside of the artificial construct of time.  It don’t only flow in one direction, in fact, it don’t flow at all.  Everything exists everywhere all at once, tis just that most people’s brains ain’t trained to recognise that.  Chronomages learn how to navigate to specific destinations by manipulation of the equations which hold everything together”.

“That sounds very complicated”.  From experience, Set knew that flattery was the best way to get people to open up and share their knowledge with him.  By appealing to this woman’s intelligence, he had already learned a great deal.  “I presume that only a rare few have the capacity to understand such concepts and work within them.  For instance, would you be able to teach me?”

She nodded.  “I can certainly try.  Tis the first time anyone’s asked me.  Even in this supposedly enlightened age, most people still fear and mistrust adepts of any type”.

“Unfortunately so” he commented.  “And of course, as I previously mentioned, there are those who would abuse such knowledge.  So in the interests of keeping everyone safe, perhaps you ought to construct one of your temporal prisons around those two.  Believe me, you wouldn’t want them learning the secrets of Chronomancy.  They would cause all manner of chaos”.

“Alright”.  She looked over at the two sorcerers again.  “I need to keep them in one place while I construct the temporal prison.  A normal immobilising spell probably wouldn’t work, for they’d most likely detect it and shield themselves against it.  However, they won’t be expecting a slow-time envelope.  Twill creep up on them gradually.  Watch!”

She used her index finger to draw a rectangle in the air in front of them.  Mystic symbols in a variety of colours appeared within it and she plunged her hands into them, manipulating them.  The symbols and colours changed several times in quick succession before slowing down and grinding to a halt.  The same thing happened to the two young men across the street. 

“Now I need to construct the temporal prison around them”.  She swiped a hand across the static equations, causing others to appear in their place.  These ones were layered on top of one another and they all moved in different directions at varying speeds.  Set paid close attention while his new companion worked.  Her fingers moved in and out of the layers, dragging one string of symbols closer to the surface, erasing several others and generating new codes to replace them.  She repeated the procedure over and over until nothing remained on the screen except for a cube.  The colour of the cube was more than white; it was an abstract brightness which would give most people a headache after only a few seconds.

Glowing lines of the same colour shot out from the cube and attached themselves to Morgan and Apollo, drawing them in.  Once they were inside the box, it became a solid object in Gremeldah’s hands.

“Tis done”.  She passed the box over to Set.  “I’ve encrypted it with thirteen layers of fluid-time equations and seven regular sorcery wards.  Ye should hand this over to yer law enforcers and have them bury it deep underground.  That temporal prison will last for at least two centuries, by which time the evil ones will have passed into the Beyond, where they can do no more harm”.

“Thank you”.  Set turned the box around in his hands, inspecting it carefully.  He could find no seams or joins, nothing that would allow it to be opened.  “You have done the land of Vordelle a great service.  Unfortunately, I can’t reveal myself to the authorities, for reasons I’ve already explained.  However, I shall bury the box as you suggest”.

“Glad to be of service”.  She smiled at him.  “Could ye recommend a good place for me to stay?  All that manipulation and construction has worn me out and I be in need of rest”.

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Set turned to Gremeldah with a smile, pleased with the turn of events. With Apollo and Morgan firmly out of the way, he could enact the plan that he’d been conjuring since he’d met Gremeldah. And now that she was weakened by her spell …

Set laid his hand on her arm, sapping just a small amount of her magic to weaken her further. Then he laid his hand on her head and initiated the mind-merge, taking her by surprise. She tried to struggle, but he continued absorbing her strength, forcing her to power the spell instead of him. In only a few minutes, he’d divulged the secrets of Chronomancy and half-killed poor Gremeldah. Once he’d learned what he needed, he used a sleeping spell on her and wiped her memories of the incident. She could still be useful … in the future.

Going into a dark alley, Set called out to Jezebel. The woman emerged from the shadows, looking at the unconscious green-haired girl in his arms. “Who the devil is that?” she questioned.

Set smirked. “The key to our success, my friend. Now …” He patted his pocket, where Morgan and Apollo’s prison was. “I need you to immobilize our Vordellan friends in the castle while I tend to business in Colnia and Corttann. If I am to go to the future and take over there, I must have power.”

“Won’t that disrupt time?” Jezebel questioned.

Sighing and shaking his head, Set reflected that this was why he had been the one to become a Chronomage. “No. I’m going to the future, where I need a few children who have not yet been born. And the imprisoned Vordellans will be … insurance. Now, go!”

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Apollo rubbed his forehead, squinting in the bright light of … nothing. There was nothing anywhere, just that same blinding white light. “Morgan?” he yelled. What had happened? Where in the world were they?

“Oww.” Apollo turned and saw Morgan on the ground behind him. The mage looked up, massaging his temples. “What’s going on?”

Apollo shook his head, bemused, and helped Morgan up. “Where are we?” he wondered aloud.

Morgan’s eyes went wide. “We’re being drained.”

“What?”

“Of our magic. Can’t you feel it?” Morgan let out a torrent of curses. “This is Set’s doing, I know it is! He lured us out of the castle and captured us somehow!”

“Calm yourself,” Apollo said soothingly. “We’ll find a way out.”

Morgan rolled his eyes at Apollo. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said. “We can’t get out. We can’t translocate out, and there are too many equations and wards. We’re trapped.”

Apollo sat down abruptly, figuring that one spot was as good as any. “Oh,” he said.

Morgan sat down beside him, making a face. “And we’ve got no food, either,” he muttered.

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Set viewed his handiwork in the capitol city of Colnia, Dandom, with a smile. He had the three heroes of Colnia unconscious, thanks to the element of surprise.

Wait … three? There were supposed to be four of them! Cursing his ill fortune, Set nevertheless drained some of David Smith’s magic to make his first attempt at Chronomancy. He pulled out the temporal prison and channelled his magic, manipulating the equations. It was harder than he’d anticipated, and he nearly ruined it before finishing. The lines absorbed the three heroes into the box — the human, the naiad, and the dryad — and he let his hands drop, exhausted. He still had to get his final piece of magic. Drawing plentiful energy from Morgan, Set shadow-walked from Dandom to the castle of Corttann.

The mute Queen tried to scream when he appeared in her room, and her magic nearly killed him. If he hadn’t used Morgan’s magic to shield himself, it would have. Perhaps Set should have started with her … shaking off his doubt, he used an immobilising spell on River Meer. She tried to fight it, but surprise and exhaustion worked against her. Draining her, he used his Chronomancy once more and was pleased to find that it was a little easier, trapping River with the rest of his prisoners.

Now, for the final part of his plan …

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Leanora Silvereye-Hunt’s hand shot out and she snagged an apple from a vendor’s wagon. Moving off, she took a bite and kept walking. Although the entire world of Meldin was in turmoil, Leanora couldn’t have cared less. The only thing that mattered was keeping herself and her brother Fitz out of prison.

Colnia, Corttann, and Vordelle had been at war, and only recently had the war ended. Oddly enough, the rulers of each country and those loyal to them had disappeared, leaving only one person — Set — to rule over each of the three countries. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he wasn’t such a tyrant. He kidnapped magic users and drained them or recruited them. Having magic put one’s life in serious jeopardy.

Someone grabbed Leanora’s arm, and she swung around, nearly breaking the person’s nose with her apple before seeing who it was. “Fitz!” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Come with me,” her brother Fitz said urgently. The two manoeuvred through the partially-destroyed city. Set had made little effort to restore Zor after the war, but people nevertheless remained there. Merchants, nobles, those with wealth … it was a thief’s paradise.

Fitz took Leanora to a tavern that was one of the few buildings in the city not crumbling. The two took a table near the door, and Fitz pointed out a man hunched over the bar. “It’s him,” he hissed. “The hermit!”

Leanora narrowed her silver eyes. He didn’t look like much — raven hair, rather round, short — but supposedly, the hermit of Vordelle was the only one who had escaped Set’s many traps. She glanced at Fitz. “So what?”

“So, he might be able to tell us where our parents are!” Fitz said.

As if he sensed they were talking about him, the hermit swung around, his gaze landing on Leanora. She inhaled sharply; one eye was dark red, the other, astonishingly green. Before she could do anything, the door slammed open. Fitz moved quickly, putting himself between Leanora and the numerous guards who came in. There had to be at least thirty of them, all wielding swords constructed of black iron — metal that could slice through anything.

The hermit turned to them, his eyebrow raised in an uninterested manner. When he spoke, there was an odd, underlying tone of amusement that belied his dark and serious face. “Is this really it? Is this all Set sent after me?”

Half of them charged at the hermit. The other half had spotted Leanora and Fitz and, thanks to Leanora’s stunning eyes, they had recognised them. Fitz pushed Leanora to the door, drawing his massive broadsword from his back. “Go, Lea!” he yelled.

Leanora reached the door but turned back. Fitz was having a hard time of fighting the men, but the hermit was swiftly ploughing through the men attacking him. He seemed intent on saving Fitz. Before he could, the shadows in the uncertain light of the bar rose up and enveloped Fitz while he was distracted. When the shadows dispersed, there was no sign of her brother. “FITZ!” she screamed.

To her great surprise, the hermit reached the door and grabbed her hand. “Come on!” he said, and the two fled through the streets. He moved surprisingly quickly for someone of his bulk, and in short order, they had reached an alleyway. They ducked behind the rubble of a ruined inn and the man considered Leanora carefully. “Are you alright?” he asked, the words sounding foreign to him.

Leanora nodded. “Y-yes. Who are … who are you?”

The man blinked slowly. “You’re Elsa Silvereye’s daughter, aren’t you? Leanora. You look just like her …”

Leanora flushed. She hardly remembered her mother. “I am. And who the devil are you? And are you going to help me get my brother back? It’s your fault he was taken in the first place!”

“Yes, I’ll help you get your brother back. As for who I am …” The man sighed, the sound strangely sad. “I am Morgan Shadowbinder.”