Jepaul Page 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jepaul came to his senses, gave a heart-rending cry and flung out his arms imploringly to a figure he saw hazily in front of him. His knees weak, he sank where he stood. He knew someone dropped to their knees beside him. As the mists cleared from his eyes Jepaul saw he looked across to moisture-clouded eyes and the outstretched arms of his dearest mentor.

  Quon cradled him, whispering,

  “Jepaul, Jepaul, be comforted, dearest lad. You are safe now. Such courage, young lad. Such remarkable courage. Rest, child. Quon is here.” He looked down at the wildly dishevelled curls and his grip tightened. Jepaul clung to him, neither figure moving for some time. The others watched from afar.

 

  Jepaul's senses, already heightened by his experiences over the last syns, were now astonishingly powerful. Quon watched him in something akin to awe but Sapphire's occasional glances held a trace of concern.

  “Earth, should that boy be so altered?” he demanded of his friend one sunny afternoon. “Were we?”

  “Maybe we've forgotten,” suggested Quon with the trace of a laugh in his voice. “After all it's so many aeons ago I have no clear recollection of events and we weren't as young as Jepaul either - can you remember?”

  “No,” replied Sapphire honestly, with a shake of the head. He looked over to where Jepaul grappled harmlessly with Knellen and Javen, his sparring more like that of a cub among adults. “I've never heard Jepaul laugh so much.”

  “Me neither,” concurred Quon, rubbing a hand across his furrowed forehead. “He bubbles with the sheer joy of success against almost impossible odds.”

  “It will be tempered pretty quickly,” observed Sapphire rather austerely. “When do we take that child to Salaphon?”

  Quon's expression instantly sobered.

  “In a day or so, my friend.” A pleading note came to his voice. “Don't hasten the boy's footsteps there. Let him be a child just that much longer. After all, Sapphire, he was robbed of much of his youth, wasn't he?”

  “Yes,” agreed Sapphire in a kindly tone. He looked down at the smaller, shorter man. “Don't fret too much, Quon. All things come in their time. Nor would he be accepted onto the Island if he wasn't ready.”

  “I know,” sighed Quon. He picked at a flower and sniffed it.

  There was a long silence, each man wrapped in his thoughts, until Sapphire asked abruptly,

  “Did we see the same thing at the same time, Earth?”

  “Yes,” answered Quon slowly. “The Elementals all saw at exactly the same moment. Ebon and Wind Dancer have both said so and our sense of timing is impeccable. It was the eeriest image, wasn't it?”

  “That's one way to describe it,” came the grimly curt response. Quon turned his face up to Sapphire at the comment. “Have you seen the gates and stairs, as we've just all seen them, so clearly before?”

  “Only the once, Sapphire, and it was enough. Islasahn fell beyond them. Such a sight as I was privileged to see heralded a time of extraordinary events on Shalah. That I should see, again, and with such clarity, fills me with foreboding. It didn't augur well once. What does it mean?”

  “And with that boy treading the stairs with such firm determination,” added Sapphire, on something of a convulsive shudder. He turned his attention to the small group clustered about Jepaul, his staff lying just beyond him, who gesticulated and laughed, his mirth drifting to the twosome on the air. His concentration was on those about the boy. “And them, Quon?”

  Both Doms steadily regarded the boy's companions.

  “Their appearance was most odd, wasn't it?” mused Quon, reflectively stroking his beard. “For a brief instant each went beyond us, even, I suspect, beyond themselves. That's not something I'm likely to forget either.”

  “Did Jepaul call them?”

  “His empathy at work, Sapphire? Yes, I can only assume so. Why else could such a thing happen?”

  “It suggests enormous power, Earth.” Sapphire sounded troubled.

  “You believe no one should possess it in such a way?”

  “The Progenitor had it, Earth.”

  “Yes, I know.” Quon scratched his head. “Sapphire, I still can't see Jepaul as one who'd abuse his power.”

  “All people who have it, my friend,” cautioned Sapphire, ”may, at some stage, be tempted to use it, however benevolent their natures may be. No one is immune to power. It is only when he or she is taught to control it that it ceases to be a menace to others, but the danger of use or misuse is always there. Surely we know that.”

  “Yes,” murmured Quon in a slightly dispirited voice. Then he added, “Still, we saw something rare. Jepaul's telepathy or empathy, or both, call them what you will, was so strong it actually made those close to him respond to his need in a manner as fascinating as anything I can recall in syns.”

  “Do they remember anything?”

  Quon pondered the question for a long while.

  “No,” he answered finally. “They sense something happened to them, an out of body experience I suppose they'd call it, but nothing other than that and memory is hazy.”

  “We all noted who assumed which particular elemental form too,” murmured Sapphire with a provocative twinkle down at Quon. “Is Salaphon trying to tell us something, old friend?”

  Quon caught the saucy look and his face broke into a broad smile.

  “It seems so indeed. So strange, Sapphire, the whole thing.”

  Sapphire gnawed meditatively on a finger tip.

  “And our old friend was present at each stage of that boy's journey.”

  “With his Riders gathered about him, ready to dive and seize the boy at the first hint of failure,” growled Quon, the grin banished and replaced with a scowl that brought his bushy eyebrows together. But,” he added, “ it was only the one Rider and he’d need the gate open at a particular time, which I don’t think it was.”

  “It would have been touch and go who got there first, them or us.”

  “It would have been close, Sapphire.” Quon uncharacteristically shivered.

  “Sh'Bane won't stop now, Earth,” warned Sapphire seriously, no laugh in his voice or in his blue eyes.

  “I know.” Quon sounded suddenly tired. “That's why we can only give Jepaul this short break before he goes on. He deserved that luxury at least, but I'm well aware of the dangers he faces each day he's not with Salaphon. His youth will pass so fast there. The Island is no place for a child, is it?”

  “No,” agreed Sapphire emphatically. “But then again, Earth, I look forward to being home again, don't you?”

  “After so many innumerable syns wandering, yes,” concurred Quon with a small sigh.

  “And Jepaul's friends?”

  “Salaphon will decide.”

  “Aye.”

  Both Elementals lapsed into companionable silence, until Sapphire spoke again, meditatively.

  “It seems, my friend, that things on Shalah move much faster than any of us anticipated. That the Riders and Sh’Bane show themselves with such arrogant contempt means not just one gate is possibly partially or occasionally open. Others must be close to opening as well.”

  “Still open, do you think?” mused Quon. “Or do they open and shut?”

  “If they do that at will, old friend,” warned Sapphire, “Shalah's future is in jeopardy.”

  “And if we've not yet reached that stage?”

  “Then we have to prevent things going any further.”

  “And not just the Four on their own either,” said Quon very slowly.

  “No,” came agreement. Sapphire looked across to the staff. “Islasahn was such a loss,” he mourned, his usual urbane good humour briefly deserting him, “yet you were able to carry her staff during Jepaul’s trials.”

  “Only till the moment Jepaul gained awareness,” mumbled Quon, staring at his stinging hand. He added suddenly, “Sh'Bane has to answer for Islasahn's loss.” The deep voice was vibrant with bitter anger.

  Sapphire nodded, his glance
again across at Jepaul.

  “He knows so little, Earth, yet every part of him now radiates such energy and such power.”

  “Preferably in harness,” added Quon, his voice gentled as it always was when he spoke of Jepaul.

  “Yes, indeed,” acquiesced Sapphire immediately. He smiled down at Quon, his usual affable self again.

 

  They moved to the Island, which appeared abruptly out of a haze, the next day. Jepaul was full of vitality and laughter. Ever since his trials he'd been full of energy and youthful zest, the last constraints of his childhood well behind him. However, he kept his serious moments for Quon.

  When he sighted the Island of Salaphon he eyed it with innocent interest. But it was the main structure on the Island that intrigued him. It's physical manifestation was a fortress of sorts, or had been, long, long ago, but it wasn't fortified now. Most of it seemed to have fallen into disuse, parts of its walls crumbling in a way that made it look unsafe, all but twin towers that imposingly soared upward. Their turrets poked into the light blue sky. Jepaul looked enquiringly at Quon.

  “The Island?” he asked, in a teasing voice.

  “Yes, lad, the physical part of it. Try to approach it.”

  Jepaul ran on ahead then drew up sharply. The place had disappeared. He looked back at Quon perplexed.

  “What have you done with it?” he demanded on an uncertain laugh.

  “Nothing, Jepaul.” Quon came up to the youth. “You have to understand that Salaphon is an entity in itself. It comes or goes. It accepts or it rejects. It takes and teaches, or it refuses all knowledge.”

  “Salaphon accepted you, and Marin, and the others?”

  “Long since, Jepaul, yes.”

  “But you underwent the trials to get here!” protested Jepaul. “It couldn't then reject you!”

  “That's only the beginning, little lad,” teased Quon gently. He saw the quiver run over Jepaul. “No, lad, not another trial, I promise you.” He added reassuringly, “It's not like that. Just go forward, Jepaul, and approach with thoughts of what you are and have achieved so far. Let your mind be open to the offer of knowledge and the desire to do good with it.” Quon gave the boy a quick hug then pushed him forward. “Go now.”

  “That's brave,” remarked Sapphire, as Jepaul reluctantly stepped from Quon.

  “That boy knows only humility, Sapphire, and lacks any touch of arrogance or vanity, intellectual or otherwise. Salaphon will recognise him for what he is as much as for his potential.”

  Sapphire and Quon stood still, so the companions amiably joined them, obligingly coming to a halt beside them. They all watched Jepaul. Jepaul walked on feeling oddly foolish and only half believing anything would respond to his approach. The uncertainty stopped when he felt himself walk into something solid. He tried to come to an abrupt halt. He couldn't.

  The structure enfolded him in a suffocating embrace. He put out every ounce of strength he possessed to break free. He was crushed even more. He felt every part of his mind and body was being inexorably squeezed and absorbed. He became the structure itself. He tried to be free of this thing that held him in a grip unlike anything he'd encountered. And he knew, in a flash of recognition, that he'd never succeed. That moment of realisation saw the embrace loosen to the extent Jepaul could crouch, gasping, on earth at the very entrance to Salaphon’s Island.

  “First lesson,” he heard clearly in his mind.

  He looked up and around but saw nobody. Only a wide, very high door opened abruptly and he saw an entrance that lured him with an appeal to his every sense. He heard water, saw lightness in all things, smelled the earth and the scents of growing things, and saw flames flicker and beckon a welcome in a huge hearth. Two quick steps saw Jepaul across the threshold, delighted senses responsive. The Elementals followed. They waited to see if the door dematerialised. It didn't. Quon turned to the companions, a finger crooked. The door then closed, irrevocably. They'd all remain until Salaphon released them back to Shalah.

  Sh'Bane and his Riders, even distant from Shalah, instinctively knew where they were but Sh’Bane could do nothing other than gnash his teeth at a youth he now knew was some sort of genetic oddity with possible, though unassessed, power. Sh’Bane could wait. He was very patient. The gates irritatingly briefly, for mere blink of the eye moments, did open. He'd soon walk the stairs again.

 

  Quon felt the disturbance, infinitesimal though it was. He was alone, idly staring into space, when he saw a light energy pattern ripple not far from him. He recognised the alien signature and waited, tense, his staff firmly gripped in gnarled hands. He knew he'd experienced the same sensation syns ago when Jepaul was first drawn to the attention of the Red Council. Now he waited, with bated breath, for whoever, or whatever, to materialise.

  He saw a stranger. The man was exceptionally tall but broad-shouldered like Jepaul. His face, once Quon could clearly discern him, bore a startling resemblance to Jepaul's, including the shape of the face, the features, and the finely pencilled eyebrows. The heavily fringed eyes were dark like Jepaul's, though Quon couldn't see the exact colour of the eyes as far from the stranger as he was. As the man drew nearer Quon stared fascinated at the lined face. Older than Jepaul's by syns innumerable, still it was Jepaul's face all over again. And that was despite the long silver beard and luxuriant crop of silver curls, curls like Jepaul's, that fell about this man's shoulders.

  Quon felt suddenly weak. He raised his staff, words forming on his lips but barely audible,

  “The Progenitor?”

  The stranger stared at Quon for a long moment.

  “Maquat Dom Earth?”

  “Yes,” murmured Quon, his staff still held in a defensive position. “Are you the Progenitor?”

  A smile came to eyes that Quon could now clearly see were a most unusual purple. The man's expression was friendly and he immediately shook his head.

  “No, I'm not the Progenitor. Now you’re close to me surely you can see I’m not.” Quon nodded slowly. “I heard the boy, syns ago, and briefly paused here.”

  “I sensed you then.”

  “I know.” The voice was very deep and oddly musical. “I was drawn to the boy, as you'll understand one day soon. I mean neither him nor you harm. It seems I was meant to come when I did. I now understand that as well. Answers come, Maquat.” Quon nodded. He felt old and tired. “Courage,” came the voice.

  “A Groundling saw an image. Was that you?”

  “The Grohol,” murmured the stranger. “Yes, he saw me. It encouraged him to help you?”

  “Yes, though your appearance troubled him as it does me.”

  “So it seems.” The stranger's smile broadened. “The boy's safe on the Island?”

  “He's with Salaphon,” responded Quon, his eyes meeting those strange ones directly.

  “Then I'll see you and him when he's ready,” came the deep voice, before Quon sensed the extraordinarily powerful energy surge ripple in front of him. The man was gone. Quon sat weakly.