The Enchantment of Time - Volume 1

Niccolò Gennari

The Enchantment of Time

Volume One

To Leonardo and Filippo

Prologue

The morning chill was biting and the gust of wind stirred the edges of the red cape that enveloped him. The peaks of the highest mountains of Ent'On, which rose before him, were covered with perennial snow. The first rays of the sun shone through the southwest pass touching everything before his eyes. But mostly, the golden spires of Karp-Thù, on the top of Crow Mountain, were sparking.

He didn’t move for several minutes, as he looked at the hexagonal building that many in the World of the Above knew by the name of ‘Temple of Destiny’. Built in the stone, above and inside the mountain, with an Enchantment cast directly by the First Dust. It was magnificent, with its red banners fluttering in the wind and its stairway that coiled around the mountain, which was carved into the rock, was the only access for anyone who was not a bird or did not know how to fly.

Suddenly he pulled back his cape and raised a small twig of ash wood into the air, which he had kept hidden beneath it. For a few moments there was only a simple, twisted, partly peeled and knotted branch, then from its center a bright light began to glow, that encompassed the wood within.

The radiance increased, to the point that the twig was no longer visible in his hand, but only a brilliant whitish light. The wizard wielded his wand and whispered a few sentences in the ancient elemental language. Finally he cast his Enchantment and his words were carried away by a gust of wind.

Extracted from

Genesis of the elementals

In the beginning there was only a small minute seed.

And for innumerable eternities nothing different happened, since time itself did not exist.

Then something changed, and time began to flow.

And the seed then grew into a plant and finally into a tree.

Its name would be ‘Tree of Light’.

It shone and flooded the whole universe with its light.

But nothing else existed, and its shadow was constantly turning in search of a dwelling.

Until, exasperated, it decided to cling right at its roots.

And so the roots darkened and slowly began to rot.

It was then that the Tree of Light sacrificed one of its branches to save itself.

A first wand fell to rest where its roots began:

It was the ‘First Dust’, and from it the earth was born.

And the ‘Lands of the Above’ were forever separated from the ‘Lands of the Below’, where the dark shadows reign.

But this was not enough to save the Tree of Light. The roots, now consumed by darkness, began to work from within.

And the newly created earth generated myriads of new shadows.

The Tree of Light then sacrificed two more branches to protect itself from them.

A second wand fell to the earth: it was the ‘First Flame’, which gave birth to fire.

A third wand fell to the ground: it was the ‘First Breath’, which gave birth to the wind.

The first would have created the light, and the second would have spread it everywhere.

But then the Tree of Light saw that the fire could destroy the earth.

Repentant, it decided to sacrifice a last branch to contain it.

A fourth wand fell to the ground: it was the ‘First Drop’, which gave birth to water.

But it was too late: and it was of no use. So, the Tree of Light died.

It became a normal wooden tree, like all the others.

But before this happened it ridded itself of all its branches, which fell to the ground.

And the branches broke into twigs no larger than a wand.

And each of them was carried far away by the four elements.

Extracted from

Myths and legends about the origins of the Lands of the Above

From time immemorial, every three hundred years the Sun falls asleep, and the Tree of Light opens to the shadows. For nine months the shadows, who knows where they are concealed, cross over and walk upon the ‘Lands of the Above’.

Plants and animals hibernate, the flowers close, ignored by the inhabitants of the ‘Lands of the Below’.

It came to be called the Long Night, when the above and below merge, in the darkness.

[...]

And so the earth was filled with life and the Wizards appeared among the various creatures.

A wizard was born for every single existing wand, not one more, not one less.

They were the only ones able to wield the wands, and through them they exercised control over the elements of nature and the peoples of the ‘Lands of the Above’.

Dozens of Long Nights passed, and the Wizards, immortal if not by the hand of their first-born, they crossed stealing the four ‘elemental’ wands countless times.

Each of them, in the unbridled pursuit of absolute power, tried in vain to obtain all four, until only one succeeded.

On the eve of the eighty-ninth Long Night, Oregon the 21st, ‘The Enchanter’, brought them all together.

Thus the ‘Lands of the Above’ lived their darkest age, and for many Long Nights he reigned over them. But Oregon's power was not absolute, as he had hoped, much to his surprise at the wielding the four elementals, a fifth wand had, in fact, been revealed to creation.

It had come before the others, since it existed before anything else.

And it was able to control all of them since in fact it governed time itself.

The first time it was wielded, it was said to have set time in motion, and thus caused the Tree of Light and all creation to come into being.

The ‘First Instant’, as it was soon to be called, was sought in vain by Oregon everywhere.

Until it came into the hands of a young and inexperienced wizard, Avèrion the 55th.

He showed immense wisdom and succeeded in wielding it, although only once.

And so it happened that Oregon the 21st was imprisoned in an Enchantment of Time.

But every Enchantment, as we know, sooner or later looses its power.

And wizards are immortal ...

Part One

The Temple of Destiny

Xinti

Xinti felt overwhelmed by a feeling of panic.

It did not happen often: in fact it had never happened before, she repeated.

She was walking along a path in the woods, a few steps where it came out onto the meadow. Suddenly and unreasonably, she felt something bite at her chest and a feeling like ice running down her back.

Instinctively, she left the path and knelt behind a bush in the thicket, though she was alone there.

She felt an inexplicable and intense feeling of helplessness and claustrophobia. As if she were in the process of being locked up in a dungeon from which there is no escape.

She felt the instinct to escape and started running: but then to flee from what? And where?

All this was not like her, usually lucid and rational.

She took two deep breaths and then stood up, took two steps, but a dizziness forced her to lean against an oak tree.

She had to do something important, really vital, but she could not remember what.

She felt that everything had been decided at that precise moment, not just her future, but the fate of everything was being decided at that time, exactly in that place. What on earth was happening to her, she kept wondering, seeking herself. She waited a few more moments until slowly those dreadful feelings began to fade.

When she was ready to return to the road, she began to hear a song.

Someone, who was singing loudly, was approaching.

On hearing that voice the crises of panic, if possible, became stronger, becoming even more intense than before.

She had never heard that voice before and yet she felt a strong desire to escape from that place. As quickly as possible.

That state of mind irritated her immensely, she never ran away.

Against her will she forced herself to remain still: certainly it would not be the first crisis of panic to cause her to run away.

She heard the voice better: there was absolutely no intonation and the volume was totally exaggerated. She would probably have to deal with a drunk.

She would prefer to be struck by lightening than run away from a drunk, she told herself to be strong.

In spite of the anxiety she still felt in her breast, she decided to go out into the open and return to the path.

The individual was a few steps away from her, a young man around thirty or a little younger. He dressed like a villager and carried a big bag. He walked in a zigzag and carried a sack on his shoulders.

Xinti stood in front of him and challenged him with her eyes. The young man took a few moments to focus on the figure in front of him. He rolled his eyes and then drank a little more, considering that a good sip would help him to see better.

A young woman had just emerged from the bushes and was staring at him. One of her eyes was blue and the other green, she had olive-colored skin. She was not very tall and seemed to be slightly built, though a dark green cape almost covered her entirely.

And who are you? he shouted, Get out of my way!

Xinti continued to stare at him unperturbed. She was used to shows of aggression, after all a young girl traveling alone was often subjected to violence and abuse throughout Ghenoria. She had been through so many bad experiences.

At first she thought of leaving, but then she thought: a drunk on his own was easy prey, and she had not eaten for days. She could easily get the better of him and rob him.

Not much, she told herself as if to justify herself to her conscience, just enough to get a good meal at an inn. Maybe two.

I’ll leave right away. But not before I have relieved you of your burden, she replied, drawing a small dagger from under her cloak.

The young man was silent, as he mulled over her words, swaying slightly under the fumes of alcohol.

Then his eyes widened and in surprise he indicated his goatskin, as if to ask the young woman for confirmation that this was the object requested.

The whole thicket was immersed in the quiet of the afternoon and not a puff of wind came to disturb that placid calm.

Xinti assumed an expression that was a mixture of compassion and disgust, then shook her head and pointed at the bag on his shoulder with her dagger.

Ah. He said simply.

He was absorbed for a moment, as if to reflect on that request, partly encouraged, because his goatskin was not in danger.

He took a new good sip then exclaimed, All right, if you are able to take it, it's yours! Xinti made as if to approach when some branches moved in the thicket behind the young man. A few moments later, the head of what looked like a dragon came out of the woods and it turned to stare at the two young people.

Xinti was petrified, her mouth dropped open; the next moment she began to run as fast as she could towards the meadow, without looking back.

The animal slowly came out onto the path, revealing that it was not a dragon, as the young woman had in fact believed, but a wyrm, therefore without wings.

Moreover it was a rare dwarf specimen, about three meters tall, which it could achieve only by reaching its neck upwards. Adding to all this was the fact that the animal was rather old and had lost its right eye, the threat was actually very limited.

The young man stared at the young woman as she ran away, frowning.

Then he turned and took another sip. He took a couple of steps back to focus on the figure in front of him and then exclaimed, Cursed beast. She was so pretty, you're the one who made her run away!

He made as if to throw his goatskin at him, but then refrained from wasting the precious liquid. The wyrm instead thought well to use its tail to hit his master on the ankles and make him tumble to the ground.

Cursing, the young man stood up and made his animal lower itself.

Stooping down, the wyrm revealed the presence of some fixtures attached to its back, including a saddle and stirrups.

The young man jumped up and launched him in pursuit.

Meanwhile, Xinti ran like the rushing wind, and had already reached the end of the plain, where it began its gentle descent towards the valley.

All around she saw only meadows and fields. No hiding place and nothing to use to defend herself but her dagger, she thought.

Behind her, the young man urged his wyrm to run faster, shouting so that Xinti's ears could hear him. But the beast was no longer of the age for an unbridled race, and it also carried considerable weight: indeed, another six full goatskins were in fact attached to the animal, three on each side, behind the saddle.

Run, old thing, the damsel must not escape!

The distance between the two young people was soon covered and Xinti, exhausted and breathless, waited until the last moment to turn around and face her pursuer.

But when she stopped and turned, the wyrm passed her by instead continuing to run down the steep slope.

Where are you running to? Curses! You've already passed her, stop you stupid beast! the young man shouted immediately.

The wyrm finally managed to stop, but his owner lost his grip, as a hand was busy holding his goatskin, and he was thrown off, flying forward a few yards. The animal then tripped over itself and fell on the stones of the path.

The young man, half buried under his beast, continued to curse for a while, until a shadow fell on him, obscuring the sun.

He felt a blade pressing down on his throat, at which he immediately lavished a broad smile, despite the severe headache that had just arrived.

Dear damsel, let me introduce myself: my name is Joona D'artòn. How can I help you?

Joona

Xinti struggled to stay close to him, the young man's breath stank terribly of alcohol, but despite the situation and the state he was in, that young man maintained a captivating expression. Demonstrating a boldness and arrogance that did not desert him even with a dagger at his throat.

"You have the wrong person, greet The Lands of the Above," she said in a faint voice.

But you can't do that. If you kill me, my wyrm will devour you! he answered with a slight smile.

Are you talking about this old half-blind specimen beside you, which at this moment lies unconscious? I had overestimated the threat a little while ago: it will not happen again.

She started to sink the blade, then Joona changed his expression and played the last card that came to mind: All right, it's not good to go so far. Listen, it's getting dark and you cannot stay out in the open. There is a village not far from here, Grazda, where you will find shelter and hot meals. Lately they have not been letting strangers in. With me instead...

She, without speaking a syllable, pressed down harder on the blade, and a trickle of blood made its way through the young man’s short, shaggy beard.

He then suddenly became serious: Listen: if you have decided to kill me, I cannot stop you, but without me you will not survive easily though the night. And you know that too.

She looked at him angrily, then exclaimed, Thiu rèn Fech! and released her hold on him.

The young man immediately seemed to relax and smiled: in truth it was not easy for him to smile in that situation, but he had to do it.

He did not know the words the girl had just spoken, certainly an insult of some kind, but the phonetics left no room for many doubts, unfortunately for him.

It was Elen’fhedi, the ancient elemental language: and it was not a good sign at all.

He decided to make the best of a bad deal and pretended not to have noticed anything.

I have a lot of respect for those who manage to overpower me, but I confess that I am not in an ideal state. I assure you, my maiden, that I will not hesitate to help you in any way, once we are safe within the walls of Grazda.

Listen, you drunken idiot; you're alive just because you promised me hot meals and a safe haven. I've spent nights in the open and I don't have any trouble doing anything else.

Xinti had tried to show all the confidence she could, but she actually knew she was just bluffing. In truth she was extremely exhausted and very weak; if she did not eat it would not go well, she would have had ugly meetings that night.

Joona stood up and stood for a moment to stare at the girl; he was certainly fascinated by that proud and intense look, and by that face with the slightly chiseled but soft features. Then he woke his wyrm. He's called Lyra. He told Xinti. He helps me to earn a living at the town shows and at the fairs, like the one that will take place tonight in Grazda. Now you know the reason for my wandering. And you?

She took a step back, to keep herself away from the animal, which was now rising up on its hind legs to stretch. My name is Xinti.

Joona assumed an expression as if waiting for something Xinti... and then?

Only Xinti. She said annoyed.

First the Elen'fhedi and now this new clue, thought Joona; his doubts diminished but his fear increased. He absolutely had to stop the girl from looking inside his bag.

Very good! he said, smiling nervously

I'd say it's time to get going if we want to get there before dusk.

And so the group set off, with the wyrm following them limping on the left front paw.

It seems to me that your wyrm is worse off after the fall than before, as far as that is possible, she exclaimed.

He was surprised: was it possible, he wondered, that the cold and disturbing girl had decided to start a conversation? Or maybe it was always a way to remind him that he had nothing to threaten her with?

You don’t have to worry about him: Lyra has been through a lot, but then he always heals. He is indestructible.

Sure.

They reached the end of the slope, where the valley opened onto cornfields on one side of the path and fields of poppies on the other.

A second path covered with bushes split off from the main one and descended to the east towards a small lake, where a hovel was found on the shore. Along the adjacent jetty were some fishing nets.

In Xinti's eyes, everything seemed to have been abandoned. What happened down there? Did something cause them to flee? she asked.

Those nets were used for fishing for chub. But the activity was carried out at night and obviously now it is no longer possible.

The Long Night. I didn't think that the shadows’ forays had started so early on your side.

And you where do you come from?

"I come from the south, from the valleys of Hermelyn. I crossed the strait of Kert a few days ago. But we don't have all this down there. At least, not yet.

"There are still several months left to the 155th Long Night and already the shadows have started to raid the Lands of the Above. It seems that things get worse every Long Night."

What idiocy, the Long Nights are always the same.

What do you know about it? Not that you were there during the previous, 300 years or so? Joona bit his tongue for having talked too much; that sentence could be interpreted very badly if his doubts proved to be founded.

But luckily the girl did not seem to react in any way.

Xinti, on the other hand, restrained herself to looking at him crossly and replied annoyed, I know because it is written in all the records. But maybe you can't even read!

Joona smiled and took the opportunity to close that dangerous conversation there.

They continued along the path for at least another hour until the walls of Grazda became visible on the horizon.

Grazda

Xinti was worried when she saw the fearful reactions that the sight of Lyra aroused in the many who crossed their path, who were increasingly numerous as they approached the walls. Joona, on the other hand, didn't seem to care.

The wyrm, on the other hand, seemed to be used to the presence of other human beings and animals: up to that moment she hadn't even heard him utter a single sound.

The village of Grazda stood in a pleasant valley, in the heart of the southern peninsula of Ghenoria. From the path that they were following, located in the hills, one could enjoy an excellent panoramic view of the entire city, which at first sight was much larger than Xinti had expected. There had to be a few thousand inhabitants.

The irregularly shaped walls were about twelve meters high, to the East were lapped by a narrow river that wound through the valley and then continued to the North.

Inside, now surrounded by the buildings, the remains of a second older wall could be seen, still standing and transformed into the walls of a few houses.

This city is not very old, she said, almost to herself.

In truth it is: it is more than 800 years old. They founded it shortly after the 152nd Long Night. But the walls were built to withstand the first Long Night can no longer be seen, they were completely demolished centuries ago to make room for the new city center.

She looked dismayed at the faces of the farmers who were busy along the path, where there were several houses; mostly shacks.

You are strangers to Ghenoria, she declared. These people will soon find themselves homeless, and I suppose they are forced to spend the night within the walls without a roof over their heads.

Their ancestors wanted to build too far from the city. They thought of who knows what expansion. Then when the new walls began their work, their children found themselves outside. I do not blame the governors of Grazda for their choice. In their time they were all warned. Joona answered.

The two young people and Lyra came to the end of the path, which gave way to a large, dense, dusty field, full of people, near the Southern gates of Grazda.

They made their way through wagons and livestock. Some of the horses were completely indifferent to the sight of the wyrm, while others shied, causing their owners to act angrily. Xinti had lifted the dark green hood over her face and walked stooped behind Joona. He wondered if she was by chance fearful of that crowd or if she didn’t want to run the risk of being recognized by someone there.

They circled the southwestern rampart and finally reached the drawbridge beneath which there was a dry ditch.

From that detail, as well as from the numerous laborers and carpenters working on the walls, it was clear to Xinti that the work of fortification was not yet finished. Maybe the governors thought they had more time available to them, or maybe Joona was right in affirming that the shadows had acted earlier in respect to the past.

Halfway across the bridge a guard placed himself in front of the young man. And who would you be? Where do you think you're going with that beast back there? he called out.

My name is Joona D'artòn. They are waiting for me at the fair: I have a show scheduled for My name is Joona D’artòn. They are waiting for me at the fair. I have a performance tonight with my dwarf wyrm!"

The guard looked at him a moment longer, then he smiled a smile that soon burst into a frantic laugh. Of course. Put that way you must be the fool!

Xinti, if only for a brief moment, felt compassion for the young man who was now crossing the bridge satisfied while around him three other guards laughed loudly.

He continued to run away