Warlocks Index – Previous Chapter
I decided to wait until nightfall before leaving my concealment. The search for me came close but I was able to divert their attentions taking the opportunity to further test what I had learned. I then had time to review the message I had been given, and further familiarise myself with the Master Crystal, reviewing the memories and experiences of several generations of owners of the Master Crystal. It made the distinction between learning and experience very clear as much of what I now knew, I knew as if I had personally experienced and practiced. Understanding something came from studying. Knowing something came from doing and having another’s memories of doing were almost as good as doing personally.
Then I came across memories that compelled me to dwell. Master Grent, a name I was previously only vaguely familiar with, had owned the crystal during the Maker Wars, as it was known back then. I saw techniques developed that had either since been banned, reserved, or hidden to current teachings, such as the visual trick I created during my escape.
Of most interest was a point of view of the techniques used by the Makers. Their primary approach was the forceful re-dreaming of their subjects. They would subdue or find willing individuals, and re-dream their perception of reality, changing and creating memories. Love and fear were their main tools of subduing, with fear being the most preferred approach. Master Grent even experienced something similar to what I had just before I was captured, the absorbing vortex of darkness, and gift employed by some of the more powerful Makers. Master Grent had even saved a young Walker from a trap not unlike the one I had found left in Cassinda’s dreams, traps laid by Makers who were able to link to their subordinates over long distances.
I thought of Tobus and his rampage in haven, and then of Cassinda when she first arrived at my door. The realisation that The Maker must have known who I was from the beginning dropped a hole through my chest. I began to wonder how much I may have been manipulated, then contemplated what I could do to make sure I was not any further, and my new memories had a few ideas.
Then the sky was dark with stars peeking through the canopy. The camp was silent again. I ate the last of the berries and drew some strength from the surrounding trees. Another technique to practice.
It was time to move on.
*****
With a heightened awareness, I cautiously made my way through the forest, making hushed and whispered tones, hoping that Graciul had not been captured just as The Maker had tried to suggest to me. With hindsight, it did seem to me that he rather avoided my question, and now I put trust into that instinct.
In keeping some distance from the camp, I was barely aware of the increased vigilance of the guards I spied through the trees. My imagined frustration of The Maker was satisfying, but his opinions around punishment left me concerned. I knew that whatever I was going to do, I would have to do it soon.
My worry for Graciul grew as the night progressed. My calls and heightened awareness were getting me nowhere, and my thoughts turned back to the camp. After one more attempt to sense or call him out, I regretfully headed back towards the glowing lanterns.
That is when I found him, unconscious and wounded, I almost walked into his form on the ground. In the darkness, I felt around and found the arrow that was lodged in his shoulder, it’s point of entry damp and covered in dried blood. He was breathing but shallow. His pack lay at his side.
Had I been the person I was before today, I may have been distressed and lost. The Juth of today however, opened the pack and quickly felt for, and found, a small kit, wrappings, and a canteen. I broke the shaft of the arrow leaving the head in the shoulder. Removing it would have caused more bleeding, and he had lost a lot already. I clean the area around the wound the best I could, then ripped the wrapping into sections. I wrapped the wound itself to try and stop more bleeding, then tied a tighter band of wrapping above the wounded area to reduce further blood flow.
I then carefully and slowly moved him, placing the pack under his head and neck, lifting his head from the ground. Feeding him water through his lips was a little tricky in the dark, but I managed it. He swallowed and started to awaken and began to struggle.
“It’s alright, Graciul. It’s me my friend.”
He stopped. “Master Walker?” His voice was stronger than I would have expected. “You got away?”
“That I did. There is a lot to explain which will have to wait. We need to make sure you are safe.”
He tried to turn and groaned with pain. “I took an arrow…”
“I know. I’ve done what I can for now.” I retrieved some dried fruit from his pack and handed them to him, along with his canteen. “Eat.”
I sat next to him and went through my new memories to see if I knew anything that might help in this situation. I found a few and set to work.
*****
I sat with him while I created a space of no interest, as it was described, and guided Graciul through some mental relaxation techniques that would aid in his recovery. These benefited me at the same as I had not had much rest since the previous night. Once Graciul was safely sleeping, I worked on expanding my awareness. Now, when I connected to the crystal, I was able to form questions and it would respond, mostly as Toa Freyah, sometimes as the voice of the memory.
Before choosing to risk a little rest, I had managed to get an awareness of the entire camp, and some of the forest beyond. In my mind, I saw the emptiness between us and the camp, then a mottled collection muted thoughts, feelings, and dreams, then the black hole at its centre that drew in from the others like water going down a drain.
I wondered what my set up might look like and tried to peer at myself, which was harder than I expected. I found an oppositional duality in my mind, where I was both more interested in looking elsewhere, yet knew quite well there was something to see. What I could see looked nothing like The Maker.
Satisfied, I cast one more look over the camp and noted the grey-blue area, a colour I chose for the depressed and fearful feel it had, where I suspected prisoners were being held. I wanted very much to express a sense of hope, but my instincts recoiled from imposing too much upon another person. Instead, I said a silent thought. A promise.
“Tomorrow.”
Reflection of a Ham 
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