Chaos Destiny Read online

  Hermon’s arms ached. He had been keeping his muscles taut for a while now. He was frightened that if he let his arm relax, his trembling hands would betray the fear that ran wild inside him. When had he ever taken another life? Yet, here he was required to not just take a life, but to take the life of something that would be very eager to take his.

  He watched his father look over the berm for the umpteenth time, before beckoning the rest of the group forward, and very slowly, they inched towards the berm on their bellies.

  Hermon cast his eyes over, and caught sight of the Walrug, his heart pealed like thunder, and he felt a chill across his back. He had seen images of the Walrugs in the clan’s archives. His father even had the head of the one he had killed during his time, hanging on the wall in his private chamber. But seeing them alive and healthy was jarring.

  He could spot the father of the family, smaller in size than the mother. However, it was the cluster of children that grasped Hermon’s attention. They were little, tender looking, and innocent; starkly in opposition to the ferocious look of their parents.

  Biniamin appraised all the boys and whispered to them to attack his signal. When the signal came, as expected, the Walrugs were surprised.

  A shrill ululation rent the air, and the boys ran forward, exactly as they had been taught to do. As they sped closer to the confused Walrugs, they split into groups to deal with the mother and father. Hermon, unable to let the innocent children become a sport, decided to herd them away from the slaughter. That was when it happened.

  Biniamins’ eyes shot wide open in horror. What he was seeing was not impossible, but uncommon, and very rarely reported. His heart sank in despair, as it dawned on him that he may lose his son. He had made sure that the family of Walrugs to be attacked was alone. It never crossed his mind that there would be more of them in such proximity.

  Biniamin let out a scream, trying to draw Hermon’s attention to two grown female Walrugs charging at him from out of the surrounding brush.

  The other children had their hands full with prospective kills to notice the predicament Hermon was in. It was the tremors Hermon felt on the ground that alerted him that something was up. He turned, and rolled to the side, just in time to avoid being impaled on a Walrug horn Hermon landed in a crouch and watched guardedly as the two new Walrugs circled him, baring their glossy needle-like teeth. He heard shouting, and recognized the voice as belonging to his father. Hermon was sure that his father would be coming to save him. All he had to do was stay beyond the reach of either of the Walrugs till then. He cast a glance towards the rest of the children. They were making difficult progress trying to kill the Walrugs. He was all alone. One of the Walrugs charged from his left, intending to run him through with its horns. Hermon ran towards it, before leaping, somersaulting, over it, and rolling as he landed. Immediately, he began to run towards a tree, with the intent of climbing it and staying out of reach. He had not made it far, when he felt a massive and painful impact on his feet, knocking him off the ground. As he fell, he remembered something his father had told him once:

  “Never engage a Walrug in a race. They run like the wind.”

  Biniamin, and the group of men with him, had vaulted off the berm and began running to cushion the rapidly unravelling massacre when he saw his son try to run. He had enough time to think: No Hermon! before he saw his son go down. Both Walrugs swooped in on him immediately.

  Hermon held the horns of one of the Walrugs keeping it from tearing at his face or throat. But he could not do anything for the second one that was tearing at his legs with its teeth. Hermon could feel his strength begin to wane. Pain engulfed him like flames…

  Suddenly, like there was an explosion in his head, his vision went black.

  The sound of the guttural cry was what struck Biniamin and the other men. They all felt it, the release and connection to magic so deeply rooted and ancient among the Berserkers. It was magic only the fewest could ever tap into. And they could only do that after a lengthy routine of meditation and practice. But there, right before them was proof that it could be tapped through some other way.

  Biniamin watched as the Walrug over Hermon, was rent into two longitudinal halves. Hermon stood to his feet, only that he was not just Hermon. He had gone fully berserk. He was huger now, thicker limbed, with elongated claw-like nails, and short tusks where his incisors had been. His eyes were wells of a glossy blackness. He roared, and the sound blew through the entire place like a wind of horror. The Walrugs intimidated into submission by the daunting countenance, and posture of the berserker, ran into the cover of the surrounding brush, whining,

  The berserker turned towards the young boys in the square and began to move towards them when it collapsed to the ground. Gradually, as the group drew near, the berserker morphed back into Hermon. He was out cold. There were scratches, and bloody cuts all over his body; effects of his transformation. But they would soon heal thanks to his magic.

  Later, when Hermon came to, he was intimated of his ability, and the immense responsibility he now had to bear where his clan was concerned. The ability to go fully berserk was a curse that had been placed on the five royal families by an unknown god. On each full transformation he made, his lifespan would take a huge dip. His clan was blessed with an unusually longer life than the other races. As a Berserker, throughout his lifetime he would lose about half of his lifespan turning. He could even die before his parents.

  “But that is the sacrifice you are required to make,” Biniamin told him. “For the good of our people…. I am proud of you, Hermon,” he told Hermon after a while.

  Hermon dared not let his father know of what he was thinking. He did not want any part of a responsibility that made him lay his life down, unwillingly, for his people.

  The School of Magic was one of the most prominent edifices in Toas. Its scholars and cesspool of knowledge aside, the structure alone was enough to make eyes twinkle with wonder. Its architecture was a remarkable blend of human art and magical finesse. The school invited attention from all over Toas, both for those interested in learning magic and for those without. And among many other archaic traditions that the School of Magic maintained was that it was only open for boys.

  The bells tolled this morning as the young apprentices, dressed in gray robes and round purple necklines, walked out of their quarters, tomes in hand, in a fashion that was casual and orderly.

  The learning center itself was a behemoth tower made of stone, windows of glass, and suffused with prehensile magic to prevent its destruction, either by the weather or a more forthright physical attack. It stood alone in the quadrangle, linked to the rest of the building by bridges.

  There were floors inside the learning center organized according to levels of magic. The higher one got in their grasp of magic, the higher they went in the building. Not very many had made it all the way to the top. To do that would require decades worth of time. Few came close to a hundred years old.

  Students who took rudimentary classes would branch out from the numerous throngs streaming into the building, and go through a huge black double door, a little beyond the entranceway, and into a large hall with desks spaced equidistantly.

  Today, the basic students had a new addition. A girl sitting in the second row. Her presence in the hall roused whispers. The whispers became a buzz when it was confirmed that the new abecedarian was indeed a girl.

  When the teacher, a mage who had seen nearly a century and a half, began to teach, one of the students thrust his hand into the air.

  “Yes?” The mage asked tiredly.

  “I’m sure there must have been some sort of mistake,” the boy said as he stood to his feet, “but there is someone in this lesson who is not supposed to be here, or in the entire building for that matter.”

  “Yes?” The mage said, indicating for him to progress.

  “There is a girl in the hall, sir.” The boy
said finally, pointing to where she sat, reclining into her chair’s backrest.

  The mage stepped forward. With his eyes, he combed through the entire lot and then spoke.

  “Most of you are very well familiar with the severe ban on women folk as it concerns the learning of magic.”

  A good number of the students murmured their assent.

  “Well,” the mage continued, “the various kingdoms in Toas, have decided that such a ban be lifted.” What he did not tell the boys was that the potential for magic had been discovered in far too many girls even stronger than in any boys that it could no longer be just a hidden. Looking at the girl now, he said:

  “Why don’t you stand to your feet and give your fellow student a little introduction. Your name alone is enough for now.”

  The girl stood to her feet and faced the entire populace, unabashed.

  “My name is Si-Siem,” she said. Her voice carried through to the very last person at the furthest end of the hall. She turned towards the mage, gave a short bow, then took her seat.

  The mage smiled.

  “Now everyone”, he said, “Si-Siem here is the first woman to officially learn magic in our school. She will be addressed by the title of Si attached to her name.”

  Now an even larger number of boys murmured until one of them spoke again “How is she already a Si, you need to be a Be first?” an astonished boy asked from the crowd. Si was the abbreviation of a novice magician where Be was the one for beginners to advanced magic. Most of Toas magicians only reached Be, if they got so far to receive a title at all.

  “O, yes. Si-Siem is a special kid.” The mage said. He seemed to be enjoying the reaction among the apprentices’ faces. With a small chuckle he looked first to Siem and turned back to start the lesson. But not before he gave them a last reminder.

  “Most of you have grown thinking you have a monopoly on strength and accomplishment in magic. The women are going to give you a hard run for that claim.”

  The following week, Siem got into a fight with one of the boys in the class and used a levitation spell on him. The boy, along with a company of three others, had waited beside the doorway for her. And when she walked in, bushwhacked her. They had hit the books she clutched in her hands away.

  Most astonishing of what Siem had done, was not that she stood up to the bullies, but the magic she had instinctively used. The levitation spell was not taught to students. The knowledge of such a spell was reserved for two levels above her present company.

  It was clear that she was a prodigy. Mages clamored to have her in their classes.

  It was another decade until another girl joined the school. It was not so difficult for her and Siem to form some sort of bond between themselves.

  More women joined the school onwards. Siem formed a guild for the new cohort of female mages. They looked after each other, they defended themselves.

  And then, Siem was forced to leave the School of Magic.

  “You have broken the rules binding your contract with this place,” the head mage told her. “You have a lead role in this place, more so among the female mages of whom you are the first. Your actions are reprehensible...”

  The other mages in the council looked at Siem severely, as they pronounced her crime. “Dabbling into dark magic. What were you thinking Siem?”

  Siem did not try to plead, or cry, or let any crack appear in her steely demeanor. She watched the council with cold eyes, and when they delivered their verdict, walked out without looking back. Knowledge is power, she had learned. So, she became knowledgeable in everything. Even in the knowledge that they thought was dangerous. She knew it will help her someday.

  Eldana sat cross-legged, eyes closed, hands drooping by her side. She sat within a circle of lit candles, darkness pressing hard against the circumference of light, like a thirsty demon.

  “You must take very deep breaths,” her teacher had said. “Each breath is a step that calms your mind, aids you in emptying every thought, so you can easily access that which you already have but don’t know.”

  Her teacher had a clean-shaven head and a striking jaw, from the city of Tonar. Mosa was his name, one of the seven, and in concord with the agreement regarding the training of the child of Balance and Chaos, he was the one selected from the human race to train the being of Balance and Chaos. He was going to teach her not just the tradition of humans, but also how to use her psychic powers.

  Mosa was calm, and fun to be around sometimes, but Eldana still preferred to be taught by Sinto. But in this, she had very little choice.

  “You have much to contribute to the entire land of Toas. And the gods would have you be trained by every race in Toas. I am not abandoning you, Eldana. Just giving other people their rights to raise you.”

  “Why is this so important?” Eldana had asked, a pout on her face.

  “It is right that you be intimate with the ways and traditions of all the races, Eldana. You are the chosen one, given to the gods to restore balance for another hundred years. There is no bigger glory than that. As the stronger you are, as more beautiful the next hundred years will be for my children, and their children.” He smiled at her.

  “What about me?” Eldana looked at him with a serious look. “What about you?” Mosa’s face resembled a huge question mark. “You will be with the gods. Luck is on your side!” He nearly danced in anticipation for this event, just being happy for Eldana.

  She could not tell if she was the only one seeing the irony of everyone having a great life and her being dead or how they called it “with the gods”. This stupid mark was just on the wrong person, she thought. But she knew he was not the right person to talk about this.

  Eldana reluctantly agreed to keep going with the lesson.

  After a few historical lessons on the human race, an instructional guide through their society and practices, and theoretical drills on psychic magic, Mosa decided that it was time Eldana to do actual training.

  So, here she was, quiet and still for the past five minutes, trying to calm her body, and empty her mind of every thought. She pulled up every instruction Mosa had given her about psychic magic, in detail. He had told her that some people, use a mental visualization of them lifting the desired object with their hands, he suggested a few more ways people used their psychic powers but insisted that there was no specific way of exercising the power.

  “That is why meditation is important.” He had told her. “It gives you the chance to know yourself better. Only then, can you find unique ways to do certain things.”

  “So, there is no guarantee meditation is going to work for me? Eldana had asked him.

  “No.” Mosa had replied. “But it will help you find what will.”

  Eldana began to get frustrated. She had emptied her mind, and yet she was still not feeling anything. Mosa had laid a metal rod in front of her. That was what she was going to be lifting with her mind.

  “How would I know when I lift it?” she asked.

  “You will know.” Mosa had replied. “You’ll feel a strain in your mind.”

  Eldana was yet to feel anything of the sort. She was about to rise to her feet, and storm away when she remembered something that Sinto had said to her.

  It was on one of those early days when she had failed to steer the air into forming a wall of energy. Eldana was sitting, hopeless, on the floor.

  “You are a child of Toas, Eldana.” Sinto had told her. “You do well to remember that.”

  “You say these things to make me feel better for my inadequacies.” Eldana had moaned.

  Sinto chuckled. Then he gripped Eldana’s shoulders warmly.

  “No, I am not, Eldana. I tell you the truth and nothing but the truth. That is my job, remember?”

  Eldana was quiet.

  “Listen. You are a child of this world. It belongs to you just as much as you belong to it
. When you doubt yourself, reach into Toas for help.”

  Now, about to put her psychic powers to use, Eldana found Sinto’s advise refreshingly useful. She smiled and thanked Sinto silently. She made a mental note to prove herself to the old man.

  Bringing herself back to the task at hand, Eldana plucked out her thoughts, one after the other, until her mind was empty, fresh, and rich for growth. Slowly, she began to reach towards the earth as Sinto had taught her. Through her yearning to be one with the earth. She felt her mind-stretching, making contact with everything around her, and becoming one with it. And then suddenly, she felt a spark in her mind.

  “Dear God Camin!” Eldana heard someone exclaim the holy name, and her eyes flew open.

  She found herself looking down at Mosa and Mosa looking up at her. She was floating in the air, along with the metal rod, and the ring of candlelight.

  Mosa had never seen someone display this level of psychic power with such ease, especially one who was a first-timer. Some people lifted boulders with their minds, and things as heavy as entire houses, or full-grown elephants. But that took years of exercise to strengthen the mind. The mind was like the body in some ways and needed to go through similar exercises. Multi-tasking was even more difficult. To lift different objects at once or do something like what Eldana did – lift them while maintaining a particular arrangement – required decades of training. But here was a beginner doing these things. And there were no signs yet of haemorrhaging from stressing the mind. The story of the being of Balance and Chaos and their immense power was one that had entertained the ears of every person in Toas since childbirth. The mark of chaos was powerful. Not very many got to personally encounter one, or to see them use their powers. But here he was.

  “How?” he asked no one in particular, his eyes still fixed on Eldana.

  Eldana smiled and lifted Mosa very slowly with her mind until he was level with her in the air.