The Marraketh Connection: "Secrets and Truths"

by Technician Brynhild, VRDET R&D

Segment 7 of ?

		"The truth is out there." - anon. 

	Even after my night of fitful sleep, the morning 
eventually came. *Well, it has to, doesn't it?* I thought 
groggily. *Oh well, time to get some breakfast anyway.* I got up 
ad got dressed; suddenly realizing how ravenous I was, I left for 
the dining room.
	The Druid I had spoken to the previous night met me at 
the door. "<Good morning. I'm sorry to bring this up so early, 
but would your friend mind cleaning up whatever he did to the 
wall?>" he asked, gesturing at the shadow Red's magic had left.
	"<Hey, no prob. I'll get him to do it.>"
	"<Good. I still don't completely trust him, even if he is 
your friend.>"
	I decided to sit next to Red and eat. The porridge or 
whatever it was wasn't the best thing I could ever claim to have 
eaten, but it was better than most camp food I'd experienced. 
"Um, Red ..." I asked, "they're still not happy about the little 
silhouette on the wall. Might you take care of that?"
	"Yeah, no problem. I'll do it today."
	"Good ... I'm not sure if you've caught onto this, but 
most of them don't like you. Bad first impressions and all." He 
nodded. "Oh."
	I turned back to the elder druid. "<He says he'll clean 
it up today.>"
	"<I hoped he would say that. To regain the trust of these 
people, he'll have to show many more gestures of goodwill.>"
	"<I doubt that will be a problem. He kinda grows on 
you.>" 
	"<That I can see... by the way, would you like to talk 
about the Crystal after the meal is done?>"
	"<Definitely!>" With that in mind, I finished my porridge 
relatively quickly.
	After the meal, I left Red to his own faculties and went 
with the elder druid. "<First, before we start ... >", I asked, 
"<is there something I could call you? Y'know, like a name?>"
	He smiled. "<I figured you'd have to ask that soon. I am 
known to my people as Kendren. Does that help?>"
	"<Thank you. I'd hate to have to ask where that 'Druid 
guy' is if I need help with something.>"
	Kendren chuckled. "<Good point! Now, to the library?">
	"<Certainly.>"
	I followed him down the twisted corridors until we came 
to the library, which was sparsely decorated, but had a 
fascinating shelf layout that reminded me of a jigsaw puzzle. It 
allowed a seemingly infinite numer of titles to be held in 
surprisingly little shelf space. We sat down on desk chairs 
surrounding a table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the 
room, and began to speak.
	"<All right, before we begin,>" Kendren began, "<tell me 
all that you know about the Crystal right now. Once I know that, 
I don't have to repeat things you've already figured out.>"
	"<OK ... well, where to start? I don't know that much 
about it, if you haven't figured that out yet. Basically, I'm 
aware that it has a great amount of potential magical power, 
though at this point I personally can only harness a small 
fraction of that power. It was delivered to me years ago, by the 
boy I described to you in the tunnel, with the only explanation 
being a cryptic note signed by someone named H.P. Is it from this 
dimension, from these people even? Or do you know?>"
	"<I see we still have a lot of work to do. To answer your 
question, no, the Crystal is not of Marrakethian make. I am not 
sure of the exact dimension it comes from, but it is neither 
yours nor mine. The boy you describe, however, is a native of 
here. His name is Petro Jahnin, and he and his family live in 
Rhye. The Jahnins are a force in the underground, if what I have 
heard is true.
	"<As for the note, with the H.P. ... the exact identity 
of this person is not known, but there are some books written by 
those who claimed to have seen her.>"
	"<Her?>"
	"<As far as we know, yes. As is told in the books, H.P. 
was a mage of some power, and according to the same books only 
females of her race had any magic power. Much of this is hearsay, 
but we don't have anything better to go on.>"
	He rose and walked over to a dust-covered shelf. There he 
removed several leather-bound, seemingly ancient volumes and 
carried them over to the table. "<Not uncoincidentally, this 
first one deals with the Master and his opponents. It seems that, 
whoever H.P. is, she has fought the Master before.>"
	"<The Master has been in Marraketh before?>"
	"<No, not to my knowledge. The origins of these books are 
shrouded in legend. Some say it is all prophecy, some say they 
are no more than fables ... but I cannot say. No one may really 
know the truth.>"
	I opened the first book. The language spell only 
partially applied to reading, but I was able to sound out enough 
of the language to make sense of it. 
	The story, however, made little sense at all. From what I 
could make out, B'harne had attempted to subvert a far-away planet 
called Intikaliru. (Or perhaps the Lyrans? Or both? Again, it 
wasn't a clear story.) The Intikaliru natives, a peaceful race of 
nonhumanoids, was not prepared to fight back, but another race 
from an unknown planet came to their defense. This was H.P.'s 
race, evidentially, a good and highly evolved one. The pictures 
that accompanied the text were faded and weathered, but I could 
barely make out a shape that looked vaguely angelic; something 
humanoid with large wings.
	The story went on. It was here I learned what H.P. stood 
for: Ha'zixxa Phevonius, which I could barely pronounce in 
English or Marrakethian. Ha'zixxa had apparently been a great 
mage and a high-ranking military wizard; her ancestors were 
legendary for winning some great war against an evil enemy, this 
great victory being the primary reason they had chosen to defend 
the Intikaliruans from their aggressors. The family heirloom of 
this fight was a stunning crystal shield, which had been passed 
down reverently and which Ha'zixxa now wore into battle.
	The battle was fought, and the forces of evil were 
repulsed. (After all, this was a heraldic story; how could evil 
have won?) It was a pyrrhic victory, though; in the fighting, 
Ha'zixxa had fallen, mortally wounded. In her last deed, she had 
picked up a shard of the now-shattered crystal shield and cast a 
spell on it. It had glowed brightly with an otherworldly light 
for a moment ... and Ha'zixxa had fallen dead.
	Before the enemy could reach it, the crystal was picked 
up by one of the dead mage's lieutenants and stoyed away 
carefully. The shard itself was never altered, but a jewelry-maker 
had crafted it a heavy chain and setting. It had been cared for 
as a sacred relic of the Phevonius family for many years, but 
what had happened to it after that is unknown. The text stopped 
there, cryptically enough. *Guess I shouldn't have expected much 
from an ancient text.*
	After I finished the book, Kendren looked up at me. 
"<So?>"
	"<Well, intereting, and yet even more confusing. Somehow, 
I need more answers.>"
	"<Like?>" 
	"<How it got to Marraketh, and then how it got to me. 
That sort of thing.>"
	"<Ah. There I can help you; I believe this happened 
during my time.
	"<To my knowledge, whoever takes care of the Crystal now 
decided it was time to use it again against the Enemy. Ha'zixxa's 
people have mostly been left alone by the Wyrm and its allies 
now, along with most of the galaxy near them; they are too far 
away from Earth to be any help to our fight as a people, and 
they've never been much good at dimension-crossing magic. 
Instead, they decided to send a holy relic to one with... 
potential... to use it, on Earth or Marraketh.>"
	"<Why Marraketh first?>"
	"<Apparently the magic styles of their home dimension and 
Marraketh's are very similar. Anyway, they gave the Crystal to a 
Marrakethian caretaker near the time when the invasion by the 
Master would begin, in hopes that they could find a suitable 
bearer.>"
	"<I'm assuming they didn't.>"
	"<No. There was no one on Marraketh whom the people of 
Ha'zixxa thought would be a suitable bearer.>" He sighed. 
"<Perhaps if there had been, the Master would be gone now. Since 
there was nobody in Marraketh, they sent someone - a scout - to 
Earth to find a bearer.>"
	"<The scout being my friend, Petro. And the bearer being 
me.>"
	"<Yes, one could assume that. Why you? You'd have to ask 
Petro.>"
	"<One thing ... the note from H.P.? If H.P. is dead, and 
has been so a long time, how'd she write me a note?>"
	He shrugged. "<Some say her shade still walks the 
dimensions. Few know the truth of her, and I'm not one of them.>"
	"<I see. Now, as for the rest of the books ... >"
	"<Magic manuals of various sorts, but I think we've done 
enough for right now. Tomorrow we can continue studies.>" He 
walked out of the room and I followed. "<It's about time for 
lunch anyway.>"
	I met Red again in the dining room. I was happy, yet 
distracted, for I was still sorting through the maze of 
information I had acquired that morning. 
	Red gestured to me. "So, whatcha been doing?"
	"Well, more than you'd think. I got some more information 
about the Crystal's origins ... tomorrow I may begin doing some 
magical experimentation. Some exciting stuff going down."
	He smiled. "Coo'. I've been doing a little exploring, and 
I found a big supply of herbs down one of the halls. Think I 
could get some translation help and talk to someone about them 
tomorrow?"
	"Sure thing, old buddy old pal. I'm probably going to 
have more to do today anyway."
	"Just be careful with the magic stuff, you know. 
Dangerous if you go too fast."
	"Have faith, O ye of little. I have a private tutor in 
this sort of thing now."
	"Oh ... okie ... any more word on when we can leave?"
	This I hadn't asked. I leaned over to Kendren and asked, 
"<Any idea on when we can leave? He wants to know.>"
	"<The time for the ritaul to the Old Man of the Sea will 
be right in two days.>"
	"<Thanks.>" I turned back to Red. "He says it should only 
be a couple of days."
	"Good. Okie, after lunch I’m gonna clean that wall and 
then go up to my room for a while. Tell me if you find anything 
interesting."
	"Okelydokely. Will do." Lunch came, but the visions of 
magical powers dancing in my head made me barely notice the food 
as I ate it.
	While I ate, I watched Red clean the wall. It was quicker 
than you'd think, and when he'd finished, there was no trace of 
the stain. Kendren turned to me. "<Give him my thanks. Perhaps he 
is not as bad as he seemed at first.
	I turnedto Red. "He says thanks."
	Red nodded. "Cool. I'm glad to help."

			***  

	After lunch, I returned with Kendren to the library. 
"<What now? Shall we continue on to magic?>"
	He chuckled. "<Like I said, tomorrow. Be not so hasty in 
thy studies, friend. For right now, I want you to tell me your 
story, and show me some of the artifacts you've brought. 
Although you didn't have to tell me your dimension of origin, I 
still know too little of Earth.>"
	"<Hey, no problem. Just your standard information 
exchange. Where should I start?>"
	"<Wherever you'd like.>"
	I began telling him about the Jihad, the Verthandic 
Rangers, the capture of Katze, and many other things besides. I 
dug through my junked-up pack, showing him the many items I had 
hastily brought with me. He stared at my modified PalmPilot 
disbelievingly. He finally said, "<This is the type of thing I 
would expect to see in Chi-Lin.>"
	"<Chi-Lin?>"
	"<Another kingdom, far away. They have many things like 
this there, or so I've heard. Anyway, another story for a later 
time.>"
	He continued. When he reached some of my books, he began 
flipping through the pages, fascinated. "<Pleasant pictographic 
alphabet, at least ... your native tongue. I take it?>"
	"<Yep. We call it English.>"
	"<Thats nice.>"
	Some of the stuff made him boggle (I was very glad he 
couldn't read the captions on some of my T-shirts, for they could 
have given him some very wrong impressions), but others seemed to 
amuse him. "<Overall, I find your culture bizarre but 
fascinating. I hope you may be able to come back when you have 
more time.>"
	"<I hope so as well. In two days I'll barely be able to 
get started on the books you've offered me.>"
	I looked at my watch. The evening had passed rapidly in 
storytelling and explanations. "<Did we miss dinner?>" I mused.
	"<Possibly. But it's all right ... for the most part, you 
can get food later if you need it.>"
	"<Good. I'm starved.>" As we went out to the dining room, 
Red was nowhere to be seen, and others were sitting around 
eating. I got some dinner and ate it hurriedly, then returned to 
my room. It had to be nearly 11 pm, and I wanted a decent night's 
sleep for a change.
	That night, ironically enough, I managed to sleep 
peacefully ... while I slept. 

	***

	Jah'meh'il crept slowly down the hallway. She assumed at 
this late hour that most of the people would be in bed, but she 
didn't want to be caught by someone up for a drink of water (or 
the cultural equivalent thereof). Her exact status in the 
community was fairly shaky anyway.
	It was lucky for her that these people lived as they did, 
because otherwise the plan would be much harder to get to work. 
The Druids were spread out and vaguely nomadic ... her cover 
story, that she had drifted in from another village, was all too 
plausible. Her disguise, although repulsive with its heavy makeup 
(even more loathsome covering her mask) and bulky, uncomfortable 
robes these people insisted on wearing (Lyran robes were magical, 
comfortable and light), worked well enough. Now was the make-or-
break point of her plan ...
	She snuck in the girl's room. (What was her name again? 
No matter, Jah'meh'il could think up a new one later.) Luckily, 
the girl was in a deep sleep, with her luggage sitting by her 
bed. Jah'meh'il stealthily closed the door behind her, wizard-
locking it to prevent any intrusion, and began looking at the 
luggage.
	There were two backpacks: one of which she recognized 
from the assassin's room (she had paid him a visit, to make sure 
he would sleep well for the rest of the night), and one that was 
of absurd construction and presumably of more absurd contents. 
She picked up the second one, sat down on the floor, and began 
looking through it. 
	Like she had assumed correctly, the contents of the 
backpack ranged from the sublime, in Jihaddi terms (technical 
equipment, computer devices, and weapons; she didn't bother to 
destroy any, since they would be under her thrall soon enough) 
to the ridiculous (trivial, meaningless junk of every sort). As 
she had suspected, there were many books cluttering up the pack, 
and after everything else had been returned to the backpack she 
began to page through them.
	She sighed. Most of them were flagrantly useless for her 
purposes. They were stuffed back in the bag, one by one, until 
there was only one left. If this was no help, her poetic-justice 
idea - the girl would set her own fate by her reading material, 
after all - was shot, and she would just have to use her 
imagination. 
	The last book, though, a novel of some sort (Jah'meh'il 
was not well-versed in Terran literary genres), turned out to be 
highly fascinating. Rather soon after she'd opened it, she found 
herself cackling. Perfect, just perfect! It would take her an 
hour or two, though, to formulate the exact spell for the 
J'Curring. She would bring the book back with her, for help, but 
everything else of the girl's would be left as Jah'meh'il had 
found it. 
	She removed her wizard-lock on the door and opened it, 
but before she left she took one last glance at the girl. That 
stupid human hadn't stirred since Jah'meh'il had entered. The 
Lyran smiled, a smile of satisfaction with the world, at the 
fate that would meet the unsuspecting Jihaddi that night.