Ghosts of the Past

[Laurna]

((You, my dear readers, are in for a treat. The Ritual we offer is a collaboration of all of us. For my part, I combined elements from Saint Camber Chapter 3 and those from the Harrowing of Gwynedd Chapter 29 to create the words of the ritual. For all else in this scene, I give thanks to Revanne for the moving accounts as told by Columcil and Aliset; to Jerusha for our dearest Darcy's wonderful telling; and to DerynifanK for our beloved Fiona's enriched partaking of the Ritual. Thank you ladies, in this you have touched my heart.))


A dome shimmered in an arc over their heads. Proof of the ward's protection against any force wielded by mortals, human or Deryni, outside of their circle. As Mistress of the Ritual this day, Lady Aliset stepped across to Father Columcil and took both of his hands in hers. "Dearest Father Columcil, you stand in the Eastern Quarter as our Healer. The Ritual words that I have shared were taught to me by my grandmother. While the boys and men trained for knighthood, it was she who felt that the only girl child of her son should have the lore and knowledge of our heritage. She told me these ways had been handed down in secret from the time our family fled to Meara to escape the Harrowing. You are the most caring of us, a true father figure for us all. I am honored that it is you who shall begin our plea for protection and for Healing from the energies that we will call forth this day." Her hands slipped slowly from his hands. She smiled and nodded approvingly, then back-stepped into the place at the South compass point which she would hold during the invoking of the Quarters.

Columcil stood very still for a long moment, then reaching into the neck of his cassock. He brought out the chain on which hung his medallion of St Melangell and the Shiral which had been his grandfather Duncan's gift to his beloved Maryse. Slowly, reverently, he brought them together to his lips and kissed them in homage, invoking the trinity of human love, Deryni power, and the Saint whom he had served for so long, that all that they had made of him might not be now found wanting. Then even more slowly he crossed himself invoking that greatest and most holy of all Trinities asking that his will, his emotions and his actions might be judged worthy of divine protection. "In nomine Patris, Filii, et Spiritus Sancti." It was the greatest of all invocations and the most powerful of all magics but it could not be owned only implored. And most humbly, with all his being, he implored that the divine mercy might be poured out on Washburn.

"We stand outside time, in a place not of earth.  As our ancestors before us bade, we joined together and are One."

"By Thy Blessed Apostles, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; by all Thy Holy Angels; by all Powers of Light and Shadow, we call Thee to guard and defend us from all perils, O Most High. Thus it is and has ever been, thus it will be for all times to come. Per omnia saecula saeculorum."

"Amen," echoed the voices that surrounded him.

"I call the mighty Archangel Raphael, thou who art the Healer, guardian of Wind and Tempest. Life-giving one, veiled in the wings of wind and storm. May we be guarded and healed in mind and soul and body this Day. Fiat, fiat, fiat voluntas mea."

A breeze, gentle yet utterly powerful, moved through the room and there was the sense, hidden even to Deryni sight but there nonetheless, of a mighty presence.

Columcil had never before remained standing in the presence of the powers of heaven, and he had almost physically to lock his knees to prevent himself from falling prostrate but, with an inner prayer that was both thanksgiving and humble apology for presumption, he turned towards the southern quarter and bowed completion of his part.

Aliset locked eyes with Father Columcil again just briefly then bowed her head breaking the contact as she dipped her knee in acknowledgement. Then she inwardly stilled herself, she must put aside all concerns other than the task in hand. Her anxieties that Darcy and Fiona would fail in the playing of their parts was unworthy of her and unjust to them. All of them loved Washburn and none of them would fail him. Though her back remained straight, her hands went instinctively to cradle the lives within her, the seed that she bore of her family's inheritance, the promise of life from the midst of danger and death. With all of her heart and soul and mind and strength she pleaded that Washburn, her living link to her beloved Alister, be freed from the evil that held him and that he might become godfather and protector to her children.

"I call the mighty Archangel Michael, the Defender, thou keeper of the gates of Eden. The consecrated One, veiled in the flames of all that is eternal. May thou lend thy fiery sword to give strength and protection this Day. Fiat, fiat, fiat voluntas mea."

Without her knowing Aliset's hands had moved to be outstretched, palms upward in the ancient gesture of invocation, and as she finished speaking, red flame danced on her palms for an instance before being drawn upwards to make a burning sword blade. Behind her a presence stood alert and ready, the stance of a warrior as befitted the Prince of the hosts of Heaven.

In her mind's eye a darkness formed, only to be cleaved in twain by a mighty sword. The hand that wielded it wore the Gryphon signet, which she knew for the one she had seen on the hand of Kelric, Duke of Corwyn. Her heart told her that the hand that now bore it, the hand that wielded the sword was not Kelric, rather his and Washburn's father, the mighty King's Champion, who had laid down his life in his sovereign's service.

She turned towards Darcy and bowed the completion of her part. They were not alone, and strength beyond their own was being granted to them.
   
Darcy bowed solemnly to his wife, awed by the archangel she had called forth and then squared his shoulders.  He needed to get this right!  He braced himself as if about to guide his ship through stormy waters.  A thought from his wife touched his mind.  I have faith and trust in you, my dearest one. Humility in its way, can be inspiring. She was right, of course.  He took a deep breath and stilled his mind, imagined calm seas and warm shores.  Light dancing off long swells.  The sea had been his home; he would speak from the heart.

"I call the mighty Archangel Gabriel, The Herald, who didst bring glad tidings to Our Blessed Lady.  The purifying One, veiled in the coolness of the seas and lakes and summer rain. May thou cleanse the path and let knowledge be born of water here this day. Fiat, fiat, fiat voluntas mea."

The smell of summer rain filled the small chamber. Instinctively, Darcy held out his cupped palm and drops of water soon filled it.  He thought he felt a raindrop roll down his nose and off the tip.  A mild reprimand perhaps, for his earlier bravado?  In the next instant, the rain stopped, and his hand was dry, but the strong presence of the archangel remained.  Would knowledge born of water enable them to free Washburn?

A favourite verse from the Saga of Sigrun came unbidden into Darcy's mind.

    As the water flows from the sea to shore,
    My spirit will follow and guide me home.

    As the waves rise up from the waters,
    My soul will be lifted from sorrow.

    As the tide turns and the water recedes,
    My heart will cross the sand and be whole.

Darcy had his answer.

Fiona watched and listened intently as each of the others invoked the guardians of Quarters. She could sense their mighty presence though she could not see them. She was in awe of the power she felt and a little fearful for she had never before participated in a Deryni ritual. But she was determined to carry out her part. She had come to care greatly for Washburn, and her greatest wish was to see him released from the thrall that held him.

Fiona dipped her knee to the West toward Darcy, crossed herself and sent up a brief prayer.

   "Please shine the light of God's wisdom into our hearts."

"I call the mighty Archangel Uriel, Who callest all at last to the Nether shore. The Stabilizing one, veiled in the gems and caverns of the deepest places.  I thank God for bestowing his wisdom upon thee. May thou bestow your wisdom upon us to endure the darkness and I pray you will shine the light of God into our hearts to thwart our fears and cure our hurts this day. Fiat, fiat, fiat voluntas mea."

Fiona felt a rising breeze stirring and a tremor in the earth under her feet. She held forth her hands and upon her outstretched palms there appeared a large book. As she gazed, the pages began to turn, and she knew somehow that this was the Book of Wisdom of the Ages. Light immersed from the pages and the air seemed to quiver with power all around her. She bowed her head in thanks. Surely this was a sign of divine blessing for their effort. She then dipped her knee to Columcil signaling completion of her part.

All turned to look to the east where Father Columcil stood. His knees might be slightly bent in humble reverence, yet his face and his heart were filled with companionship and joy. Acknowledging each person around the circle, he gave each a small nod. His gaze looked beseechingly at Father Paulos who stood beside the cot where Sir Washburn Morgan lay. Then he looked down at the man who was friend and kin, and in desperate need of their help. Filled with compassion, Father Columcil knew they would all gladly do what they were able to do. Columcil raised his hands upward and completed the ritual with solemnity.

"Now we are met. Now we are one. Regard the Ancient Ways. We shall not walk this Path again. So be it."

"So be it," echo the four voices as one.

[Bynw]

Father Paulos sits on the stool and says a little prayer in the Torenthi liturgical language of Greek and crosses himself in the eastern manner before placing his hands on Washburn. One on his forehead and the other grabbing the fist holding the ruby.

The others sit on the ground with Aliset first providing the mental and physical link between Father Paulos and the others. They ease into the link. Warm and inviting. A sense of worry and danger that the ritual might fail as Father Paulos has never actually performed this ritual himself and only has passing knowledge of it. But there is confidence too that grows as the others slowly join the link beside Aliset.

Now only Lady Fiona is outside the link. She is to be their physical guardian and watch over the circle. Something that Father Paulos believes to be absolutely necessary for this working.

Once the rapport is fully formed Father Paulos gives a wary smile and exhales centering himself and begins the energy manipulations needed for the ritual to reach its end.

His mind tries to find an opening, a crack, or shatterpoint in the magic of the ruby. Minutes pass that seem like hours to those in the rapport of the circle. The priest's disciplined mind eventually changes tactics. Instead of probing here and then probing there, he splits the energy into multiple streams and connections all at once.

Instantly drawing the additional energy needed to maintain the balance through the physical link of Washburn's companions. The needed draw of energy pushes those closest to Washburn ever deeper into a trance-like state. Physical sensations become numb and distant. Sounds become muffled and physical sight becomes almost impossible.

To those in the link time becomes meaningless.

For Fiona standing watch with the sword she is unaffected by the draw of energy. Even so those within the circle truly stand outside of time and she is unable to gauge how much time is passing.


<bynw> !roll 2d6
<GameServ> bynw rolled 2d6: 6 3  <Total: 9>

[DerynifanK]

As the summoning of the archangels that guard the quarters drew to a close, Fiona senses their mighty presence and feels awe and wonder at what has occurred. The dome of protection shimmers over their heads. They are safe from interference by anyone outside the circle, human or Deryni. She watches as her companions turn toward the cot where Washburn lies and draw close to his side.

A stool has been placed at the head of the cot where Father Paulos will sit in order to be able to place his hands properly on Washburn. The rest of them will sit on the floor near Wash where they can join together to provide the power Paulos will need for the ritual.  He has remained standing at Wash's head during the invocation of the Guardians of the Quarters. He still stands quietly with his head bowed as that part of the ritual is completed. What are the proper places for the rest of them to occupy in performing the ritual? Fiona watches intently and a little nervously, not knowing what to expect next or what her role will be.

Aliset steps over to where Fiona is standing and stands in front of her. She reaches forward to take one of Fiona's hands in hers. "My dear, we are protected from any interference from outside the dome. But we do not know for certain what will happen inside the dome as the ritual proceeds. As  we enter trance and as it deepens, we will lose awareness of what is happening around us. We will be vulnerable to any attempts to tamper with the process or to harm those involved. You recall what happened when we tried before to remove the ruby from Wash's hand. We cannot be sure what spirits, benign or evil, we may invoke. Even Father Paulos is not completely sure what will happen. We need someone to remain outside the ritual chain, not entranced, who can observe and even, if necessary, protect us as the ritual is carried out. I am asking you to fill this role, and I am giving you this dagger, Darcy's dagger, to use in our defense if needed. It would be very dangerous to carry out the ritual without this protection, and without it we might lose this chance to free Wash.  Are you willing to fill this role for us?"

Fiona hesitated. "I desperately need to be part of freeing Wash. I want to lend whatever power I have to strengthen and support our efforts. I wish to be part of the chain of power giving strength to  Father Paulos during the ritual."

Aliset smiled at the young woman. "I know how much you care for Wash and want to help him. This is the most important contribution you can make. Without an observer and protector it would be too dangerous to continue with the ritual. I am giving you this dagger in order that you can use it to defend us from attack or to open a gate in the ward if necessary."

Fiona looked doubtful. "I have no idea how to go about opening a gate in the ward'.

"I will describe it for you. It is not too difficult." Aliset smiled at Fiona reassuringly.  "A gate should be opened only in great necessity. You take the magical weapon, in this case the dagger, and salute the area where the gate is to be opened, kissing the blade. Facing the area where the gate is to be, draw the blade across the edge of the circle to either side of the intended doorway  then from the left sweep it upward, to the right and then downward in an arc narrow enough for a person to pass, all the time willing your intent that a gate should open. The area within the arc of the gate should become clear. Do you think you could do it?  We really need you to do this for Wash and for all of us to have the best chance for success."

"I will do as you ask." Fiona takes a deep breath, reaches out and takes the dagger from Aliset. She holds it in both hands, pointing it at the floor. There is a spark in her eye, her lips are firm and her expression is determined.. "I will do all I can to ensure that there is no interruption of the ritual!"

Aliset pats her shoulder briefly then returns to circle around Wash's cot. Fiona watches closely as the participants  find their places in a circle around the sleeping man. Father Paulos sits on the stool at Wash's head and reaches out to place one hand on his forehead and takes the hand with the ruby in his other hand. Aliset settles on the floor on Darcy's folded cloak next to Father Paulos and places her right hand on the Father's arm, the one that is holding the hand with the ruby. Darcy takes his  place next to Aliset and clasps her hand in his right hand. Father Columcil sits on the opposite side of the cot beside Wash. He takes Wash's wrist in his left hand to monitor his condition as the ritual unfolds. With his right hand he reaches across Wash's chest to clasp hands with Darcy. The chain is complete. The ritual can begin.

Father Paulos bows his head and intones: "In nomine Patris, Filii, et Spiritus Sancti"  followed by a few words of Greek which Fiona does not understand. He crosses himself in the Eastern manner then takes a deep slow breath and closes his eyes. He breathes slowly and deeply. The ritual has begun.

As Fiona continues to watch, she sees that everyone's eyes are closed. The breathing of each one slows and becomes deeper. The room is very quiet. No one stirs. They appear relaxed although they maintain their physical contact with each other and with Father Paulos through Aliset's hand on his arm. Fiona stands inside the dome, behind Father Paulos and Lady Aliset, holding Darcy's dagger in her two hands alert for any sign of danger or attack from the ruby. She is not conscious of time passing. Although she does not stand outside time as those who are part of the ritual do, even for her time seems to stand still. As she stands her guard, she prays passionately for strength for her friends and for the ritual to succeed. She prays for Wash will be healed no matter how much time it takes.

[Bynw]

A pool of crystalline red waters filled his eyes, his ears, his sense of touch. He was engulfed by the gem in all his senses. It was calming and quiet, a world all unto itself. He felt no reason to fight it, for there was no fear here, no hate, no abuse. There was nothing here but an encasing serenity that kept the real world at bay. Why would he want to escape that?



The real world is harsh and forces itself abruptly upon all of Washburn's senses. Pain, hunger, and restraint. He has been abused again by his tormentors. Only in his dreams can he escape from the dungeons of Lord Valerian's Mearan stronghold.

Chained to the wall, naked, and shivering cold Washburn comes out of the serenity of his own mind. Fatigued and near exhaustion, even with what little sleep he might have squeezed out, he is no match for anyone. The guards have routinely beaten him just for the pleasure of doing so. He has heard them talk about the triumph of the Mearan rebellion against the hated Haldanes. Boasting that about which Haldane Lord has died and in want gruesome manner fighting against the superior might of a free Meara.

Washburn raises his head towards the door as the silhouette of a helmeted guard blocks the light through the bared window. The door opens as a  shadow walks in like someone on a garden stroll. The door doesn't close behind the shadow.

"This has gone on far too long. It must end." The shadow speaks and despite the constant ringing in Washburn's ears the voice is all too familiar. And as the shadow conjures a aura of golden handfire to illuminate himself, Washburn's fears are all too real. The shadow is his abductor, the scholar.

The scholar turns up his right hand and reveals a small winged dragon that flies from his hand to the chains holding Washburn prisoner. There it hoovers and breathes a fiery breath on the chains and they melt away and all Washburn can feel is the pain that the caused subsiding. The dragon's breath is cool and refreshing to him and only harmful to the chains.

First the right and then the left until Washburn is completely free of the chains that held him to the wall in this dank dungeon. The dragon grows in size to that of a man and breathes his fiery breath on all of Washburn.

He is now bathed, refreshed, and in clean clothes, as the dragon flies through the ceiling and not seen again. Even the Scholar watches as the dragon flies away with a bit of awe on his face.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this torment. But it was the only way to save your life. If Lord Valerian had a glimmer of your true self when he decided to have you abducted you would have been killed. And that would be a tragedy for our people. So the web of deceit needed to be put into place without your knowledge or even consent."

The Scholar looks around at the dungeon. "It is time for you to leave this place." He reaches out his hand and grabs firmly a hold of Washburn. And they are no longer in the dungeons and now stand on a hill overlooking Coroth Castle where Washburn played as a child with his older brothers. A happy memory and place indeed.

[Laurna]

Lightning flashed across the ramparts of the crimson world. A father's love in the form of a great red dragon stood as protector from the assault upon the ruby. Even if the father was no longer among the living, long ago, he charged the crystal with a portion of his energy; energy that was filled with love. Whether friend or foe, the dragon would hold his protection for Alaric's son.

The flashes continued, here and there. Then they stopped and there was a long pause. In anticipation Washburn held his breath. Then it hit.  An explosion of magic, both deafening and blinding. The knight the dragon protected collapsed under the stress of it. The dragon arched his neck and breathed his fire to scorch that which appeared before him.

A priest walked forward through the flame, untouched by it. "You are a good protector," the priest said quietly. "I am not here to do harm. I am here to heal. Let me pass, so that I may touch the mind of the man who needs me."

The dragon lowered his head to look the man in the eye. "I sense you are a good priest... in your outer shell... but your inside, that which you hide, is contemptible. I will not let you pass."

The priest laughed. "My contempt is great, but it is not aimed at you. The piece of you that is here in the ruby is but a shield to protect your son. I commend that. In fact I don't need to defeat you. Instead I need you to do what your spell was designed to do. SAVE YOUR SON!" The priest's hands danced, then turned palms outward, and swooped the dragon into his grasp.

The world shifted. All that was red was gone, replaced by cold stone and chains. The dragon's son awoke from his nightmarish dreams, he was naked, bruised and beaten with wrists encased in iron cuffs attached to chains on the wall. Was everything that had happened in the past weeks just a fantasy? Had his mind played games with him to hide from the brutality of it all? Had he never found escape from this dungeon? His bones ached and his flesh was cold, it had to be true.

The door to his cell opened and there was the silhouette of a guard in the opening. "This has gone on far too long. It must end," speaks a man, his face cast in shadow from the torch light behind. A man in priest's garb walks from the shadow, only his face is known to Wash and it is not the face of a priest.  The scholar of Washburn's greatest fear opens his hands and lets forth a tiny red dragon. The dragon fulfills his purpose, he flies to the chains to burn them away and to save Alaric's son.

******************
"It is time for you to leave this place."

*******************

The hillside was so beautiful, the sky was so blue,  the grass so tall and so green, the castle on the cliff near the bay was so majestic and proud. Ships in the harbor proved the industry of their people and the world seemed as if it had never been compromised.  After so long in captivity, how could Wash not rejoice in his freedom? The animals around him rejoiced in their freedom too. Every variety of creature moved free along the hillside. Then with loving care, each one stepped closer to Washburn, each one allowed his hand to touch them. As he petted fur, or feather, or scale, the animals became magic energy which he absorbed with his touch. Washburn's mind filled with memories that had so long been separated from him. Some happy, some sad, it didn't matter, they were real memories, they were his memories. He let them fill him up until he was whole. The last was a Gryphon all green and proud, it bent down to let Washburn touch his great head. 

Two brothers, both older and wiser than himself, stood at either of his sides. Both held forth branches like swords. They stood in the tall grass and teased him. "Show us what you have learned, little brother. We challenge you to take us both on."

"I can handle you both, and you know it," boasted the nine year old boy. Wash held his stick two handed and lunged at the first brother who came near. There was laughter as the youngest brother sparred with the two men, both of whom were already Duke and Earl in their own rights. The fight was a good one with much clacking of the sticks. Then there was a yelled "Ouch!" as Wash made first contact across Kelric's sword arm. Brendan laughed that Wash had bested Kelric and then found himself under a barrage of youthful attacks. "I told you he was good," Kelric jested to the eldest brother and then happily laughed as Washburn pushed the adult Brendan back against a tree. Brendan lost his footing on a tree root and fell backward. "I win!" The youngest Morgan yelled in triumph. "I yield! Now help me up," the eldest half-brother said with a half-groan. The three brother's dropped their sticks and all clenched their hands together to raise up the Earl of Marley. There was a warm hug and ruffling of Washburn's hair and then together the three brothers looked over the hillside and took in the full view of their homeland.

At the periphery of Washburn's vision, four animals held their distance. Two eagles swooped at the grasses but came no closer. On the ground in the sprigs of barley wheat there stood a rabbit and a large cat watching him. Washburn held out his hand to them, yet they came neither closer nor moved away. Wash looked around, his brothers were gone. He was no longer a boy but a man full gown. As much as he knew that this moment had been real when he was young, he too knew that it was merely a memory.

A shadow fell over the hillside. An all too familiar fear tensed every muscle in his body.  A touch he knew he would never forget swept across his mind.

Evil incarnate had breached his shields. A frightful prospect indeed. There was no numbing feeling, so he could not be under the influence of any Deryni specific drugs like the last time he was being manipulated by the touch of this shadow. He tried to lash out at the man behind the shadow. But the man in priestly robes had him in his grasp and he was compelled to do the man no harm. He could not attack, yet that did not mean that he would yield. Washburn strengthened his most inner shields. The ones protecting his deepest thoughts and his secrets.

((15:29 <•Laurna> One roll for Wash against the scholar using 3XP to get a 4,5,6 on a 1d6roll.
15:30 <•Laurna> !roll 1d6
15:30 <GameServ> Laurna rolled 1d6: 6 <Total: 6> Success!))

The scholar had breached his outer shields, and likely the foreign master had the power to kill Wash in this moment. Yet Wash knew that the scholar had held this power several times before and had never availed himself of it. Whatever it was the scholar wanted, Wash was determined that unless he was drugged as before, he would never again yield to the scholar's compulsion.

The scholar felt the defiance, he smiled and said, "Sir Washburn, I just freed you from the constraints over your mind and returned to you your memories. Does that not please you? You are now the man you were always meant to be."

Wash clearly remembered being freed from Valarian's dungeon. But it had nothing to do with the scholar or dragons. "It was not you who rescued me! It was Lord Iain and his brother, Darcy and Lady Aliset. Father Columcil was teaching me that my memories were false and that I could move past them. I will not be your prisoner any longer!"

"You were never my prisoner; you were bought and paid for by the youngest son of Teymuraz. Do I need to repeat myself, I am sorry you had to go through this torment. But it was the only way to save your life. Grand Duke Valerian would have happily killed the son of Morgan, and that would be a tragedy for our people."

Wash stood his ground, knowing that the scholar could not breach his inner shields at a whim. Yet he was perplexed by the Scholar's words "Why? I was nothing but a job to you, a means to gain money. What care do you have that I survive?"

[revanne]

As he sank deeper into trance Columcil's awareness of the physical world became faint and shadowy. All of him had become mind, soul and heart and all of that focused on the man lying flat on his back and the fellow priest who strove to free him. One part of himself only was he consciously aware of and that was the hand that lay lightly on Washburn's wrist; through many years of praying for healing for others monitoring what was happening within those others had become as automatic as his own breathing. Though then he had not known it to be his own power, but regarded himself as merely St Melangell's instrument for healing, the techniques he had almost blundered upon had been the same.

The wrist he held was cool but relaxed. Suddenly it tensed as though the man it was a part of was bracing himself; it became clammy to the touch and the pulse, until this point beating rhymically beneath Columcil's grasp, began to race. The calm of Columcil's trance began to be threatened. A thought intruded itself; had they unknowingly committed their powers to bring about Washburn's death? Then as suddenly the wrist relaxed and the pulse regained it's normal rythym, the skin once again cool and dry to the touch. It was Columcil's own skin that now felt the chill of fear; though he would not break faith by breaking the circle, the shadow of the terror which he had sensed in Washburn was not entirely banished.

[Jerusha]

Aliset Cameron sensed her husband's initial caution as he opened his mind to join her in rapport. None of them knew if the Torenthi priest would succeed or fail, or what the price of either outcome would be.  Tentatively Darcy's mind reached out to hers, and once the contact was made, she felt his growing confidence.  And a strong sense of protection.  Darcy would follow her to hell and back if she asked it of him.  In a moment of insight, she realized she trusted him to do  that, even though trust did not come to her as easily as it once had.  He would never betray her as others had done, and he would never hurt her. He would remain steadfast for all of his days and beyond.  Just as he had promised when Father Columcil married them.

She felt Father Columcil join them in rapport and knew as he grasped Washburn's wrist that the link was now complete.  Father Paulos smiled warily and exhaled, centering himself to begin the energy manipulations. He began to probe the gem, and Aliset shared the memory of Washburn holding a ruby the size of an egg sparkling in the sunshine after he had discovered it at the old well. Paulos nodded and continued to probe here and there but found no weakness in the gem.  Now he changed his tactics, splitting the energy into multiple streams and connections all at once.

((Will Aliset be able to follow the multiple streams of energy as Father Paulos continues the ritual?  She is ritual trained.  Roll a standard roll with success on 4,5 or 6.
jerusha rolled 2d6: 4 6  <Total: 10>
Yes!))

Aliset felt the increased pull of energy needed for the multiple streams.  Farthest from Washburn, she was the least affected  and was able to focus on what Father Paulos was trying to achieve.  Small bursts of energy flashed from the gem in response to some of the connections, but if there was any pain, Father Paulos absorbed it.  As one of the streams crossed the center of the gem, Father Paulos found what he was searching for —a single flaw!

The streams of energy danced around the flaw before swooping inside of it.  There was a moment of calm and then a single, sudden flash of energy sprang from the gem.  Paulos' hand around Washburn's fist contained the blast, but through the link she felt Washburn tense and his pulse begin to race. For what seemed an eternity it continued, until Washburn suddenly relaxed and his pulse returned to normal.

Another spell had been dissolved from the ruby. 

[Bynw]

The Ritual goes well as Lady Aliset follows it and the energy drawn by Father Paulos is enormous on everyone. Spells placed in layer upon layer within the ruby are beginning to crack and crumble as Washburn's heartbeat rises and falls as the ruby defends itself.

-----

The Scholar sits on a nearby large rock on the hillside. "My Order practices an ancient Deryni art of divination. And our seers are very accurate. They predicted that the youngest son of Morgan would become something special one day. We waited and watched. Visited the halls of Coroth Castle as we have since the days of Duke Stiofan."

"Then Lord Valerian makes his plans of conquest of Meara and his Festilic birthright of Gwynedd. And he comes up with a plan to abduct the youngest son of Morgan. To use him in his quest for power. So we accept his contract to bring youngest son of Morgan to him."

"Because we knew already where your loyalties were to King, to Country, to Family. And if anyone else would have accepted the bounty to bring you in. Lord Valerian would have killed you because you would be useless to his plans and only as good as any younger lordling as a hostage to bargain with despite the fact that you are a Morgan."

"You hadn't fulfilled our seers vision yet. And being dead at the hands of Valerian before you could reach your destiny was not something we were going to allow. The task fell to me. So I altered your memories. I made you loose your loyalties to King, Country, and Family. Enough that you would pass any scrutiny of Valerian mind-seeing you."

"But your real memories. I didn't destroy them. I hid them behind many locks and in corridors of your mind were no one would ever look for memories to be there. They are safe ... "

He pauses and takes a few breaths. "This is taxing to maintain. And you fight against me. All of your memories have not been restored only a fragment of them before you slammed your Shields tight. And without the drugs I used on you when we first met. I cannot get past your Shields to restore those memories to their rightful place."

"The controls are still in place. If I order you to lower your Shields. You will eventually obey but you can fight me the entire way. And that could be harmful to many. So I ask you. Let me restore your mind to where it was after you left Culdi and before you reached Rhemuth while you escorted Lady Aliset to the King's Court. Nothing will be lost and you will be whole once more."

----

Father Paulos draws more energy from Washburn's companions pushing them deeper into a trance than most of them have ever been. The energy transference is causing the Father's brow to drip with sweat. But it can be sensed he is making some progress for the ruby clenched in Washburn's hand is vibrating and sending some bolts of lightning outward.

Though in this state Father Paulos was ready for such an attack and his own Shields are absorbing the energy being released so that it doesn't harm anyone within the Ritual. But a few strike out beyond them and into the circle. Missing Fiona by inches only to hit the Ward of the circle and dissipate harmlessly in a display of energy across the Warded circle.

(( a follow up roll to Aliset's earlier roll while following the ritual:
bynw rolled 2d6: 6 2  <Total: 8> ))

Aliset continues to follow the Ritual the best she can. But the trance is pulling her ever deeper. And something isn't right. Her training in ritual magic screams at her from the increasing distance of conscious awareness that is fading quickly.

(( Aliset needs to make a Standard Test to stay at this level. If she fails she falls deeper into trance due to the energy drain being used by the Ritual.
bynw rolled 2d6: 6 1  <Total: 7>
And she manages to stay aware for now))

She fights to stay at this level without going any deeper despite the energy drain to herself caused by the needs of Father Paulos and what she must spend herself to stay at this level of awareness.

She can sense the others pulled deeper into trance and losing any awareness of themselves or others at a conscious level to act.

[DerynifanK]

Fiona watched closely as the ritual continued. She sensed that there were changes occurring but whether they were what was intended or not she did not know. She wished that she knew more of what was expected. She noticed signs of strain in Father Paulos. She could see muscles in his hands and arms bulging as if his grip had tightened on Wash's fist and the ruby. The priest appeared pale and she saw sweat dripping from his face.

She looked closely at the others and also noted changes in them. Columcil was gripping Wash's wrist more tightly than he had before and he also appeared pale. She noticed creases in his forehead as though he was thinking very hard. Darcy continued to maintain his clasp of both his wife's hand and that of Father Columcil, but she noted no increase in the tightness of his grip. He also appeared a little pale.

Aliset seemed to be the least affected. She kept her hand on Father  Paulos' arm and continued to clasp Darcy's hand in her other hand. Her breathing remained slow and even. Her eyes remained closed.

Fiona had noticed occasional brief flashes of red light from the ruby but had seen no response from those in the link to indicate that they felt any pain or discomfort from them. She hoped that these flashes meant that the gem was trying, unsuccessfully, to fight back against the shattering of the spells it contained.

Suddenly there was a stronger lightning bolt from the ruby. It escaped from Father Paulos' clinched fist and shot outward. It missed Fiona by inches and dissipated against the wall of the ward. It caused no harm, but it frightened the young woman standing so near where it struck. She found herself trembling, and her hands were shaking, barely able to maintain her hold on Darcy's dagger.

She quickly scanned her friends, looking for any changes. She saw no visible alterations in their positions or attitudes. But she thought, "Such a bolt of power could kill if it strikes one of us. Is there anything I can do to prevent that?"  She thought of opening the gate in the ward. But Aliset had said she should do this only in extreme need. She was not sure what constituted extreme need, but she didn't think this was it.

Although the ruby had shot out a few bolts of power, they did not appear to be a concentrated attack aimed at Father Paulos or any of the others in the chain. She thought they were more defensive than offensive. In order for the gate to be used, one or more of those involved in the ritual would have to be aroused and convinced to break the chain and leave the warded circle using the gate. This might make them safer, but it would end any chance of freeing Wash or defeating whatever evil held him in thrall. She was certain that none of them would agree to do that based on what she had seen thus far. She was not conscious of any evil spirit that had materialized within the dome.  She did not feel that the random attack justified opening a gate.

Fiona  took several deep breaths and resumed her position behind Father Paulos and Aliset, standing straighter and adjusting her grip on the dagger. She would not give in to fear. She would continue to keep watch and be prepared to take action if any more definite threat appeared

[Laurna]

"You speak of divination like it is a real thing." Washburn's tone expressed incredulity. "Seers? Like Oracles of the mythology of ancient Byzantiun? Such magic doesn't exist,"  Wash studied the scholar's face.  He saw no indication that the educated man thought this an outlandish idea. "If such magic does exist...and I am not saying that I believe it.. why name me? This is insane! Your seers can not be as accurate as you claim them to be. They named the wrong Morgan. The youngest son of Kenneth Kai Morgan was the man who held mythic qualities. Alaric Morgan was King's Champion. It was he who saved the throne of Gwynedd by empowering Kelson Haldane. It was my father who had great abilities to shrug off the hate of his race and turn it to advantage. He was the first Healer to be found in centuries. It was he who slew the traitor of Torenth, Teymuraz,  even when he had been challenged to an unfair Duel Arcane. A Duel Arcane that I presume your order did not want my father to win. It was you who told me that it was members of your order who supplied the youngest son of Teymuraz with a means to cheat my father out of his victory and his life."   Washburn scowled at the man sitting on the rock.

The Scholar merely watched him with a confident calm. "The wrong Morgan was not named," was all the man replied.

Wash walked in a circle, treading down the grass below his boots. "You abducted me weeks ago. You have controlled me from that moment forward.  You were the one who told me how Valerian killed my father. You were the one who placed me within reach of that very same man, and you stoked my need for revenge before you did so. You manipulated me to be a weapon that could take Valerian down. It almost worked as you planned. I did survive Valerian's torture. But not in the way you think." Wash stopped his pacing and looked straight at the scholar. "What really saved me from his hate of Morgans was his greater hate of Haldanes. He didn't have time for me. After you dropped me in that hell hole, he didn't come for me as you thought he would. He had a battle to win, and he was distracted enough to allow another man who had infiltrated his nest to assist me in escaping. If you had thought I would have been strong enough to have killed Valerian when we were nearly nose to nose as we escaped, then you should be disappointed. Even for vengeance sake, I did not kill the man who murdered my father. I failed your compulsion to do so. And in that failure, I started down the path to become my own man!" Washburn nodded his head, confident his thoughts of what really happened were deep behind his inner shields.  "I have heard rumors that Valerian took his army to Laas and fought battle there for a full day. Because of you, I was denied the use of my skill with the sword to join my brothers in that battle. I am certain that it was their strength combined with the mighty strength of the Haldanes, which turned Valerian and his army away. I can only hope they track him down and take him before our king to be found guilty for his crimes.  Proper justice done is the only revenge that I need."

Wash turned to look at the city nestled beside the harbor.  His hand shot out and pointed toward the castle. "That is where my loyalties lie. Memories or no. That is what is in my blood. I am loyal to kingdom and king, and to family and friends. The love of my friends has allowed me to rediscover my true self. I stand by my knightly vows to protect the weak and the innocent. King Kelson upholds the law, which states that no freeman shall be taken or imprisoned, or be disseised of his freehold, or his liberties. He will not be condemned but by lawful judgement. I believe in the king's laws. I abide by lawful judgement. I am not a weak man. My hand can bring down justice upon a man lawfully condemned as a criminal, and I will battle to defend my homeland. But I believe after all my ordeal that I would prefer to Heal those who are injured or fallen into harm's way." Wash took a deep breath and opened both hands to stare at them. The joy of Healing was the greatest gift that could be bestowed upon a man. That was his future whatever lies the seer of the Black Order of Death might claim.

"Above these things, you think I am special, I am not. You say you will give me back all that you have taken away from me. I do want them back, I do want to be fully whole again, but at what cost? You say I should submit myself to your manipulations to become the man who fulfills your seer's destiny. I am not sure I want to own that destiny. Only if the choices of the future are my own to make, and not some compulsion set by another."

There was movement in the grass around them. A Golden Eagle flew over to land between the scholar and Washburn. The Sea Eagle walked through the grass, his wings outstretched as though the energy to fly was too great. Nevertheless, the great bird came to stand at Washburn's side. The Grey Hare jumped very close to Wash and sat looking up at him with wide pleading amber eyes. The lynx walked forward with her hackles raised. She stopped a few steps back between  the scholar and the Golden Eagle.

Washburn looked at each of them in turn.  And anger in his heart melted from their love. They were here to support him. More than anything, he wanted desperately to get them out of this mess. This huge mess he had dragged them into, all begun by some lousy false prediction.

((12:52 <•Laurna> Save test, Wash using 6XP disadvantage success on 3-6
12:52 <•Laurna> !roll 1d6
12:52 <GameServ> Laurna rolled 1d6: 1 <Total: 1>  REALLY? We are now calling them The Scholar's cured dice))

Worry crossed his mind. How was he going to protect his friends and his honor through this confrontation, when his shields wanted to open in Rapport and let his friends within?

[Bynw]

As Wash's inner Shields roll back for his friends the threshold is quickly filled by the Scholar. "Your friends cannot follow us where we are going only you and I can go."

The touch of the Scholar's mind is gentle and soothing as he invites Washburn to accompany him.

Before the pair is a colossal knot blocking the pathway. "These are the controls that others have used to prevent you from acting. Valerian, Lord Iain, and even your friends have used this to restrain you." Without a word he draws a sword and cuts the knot to pieces.

Washburn can feel the change instantly. Only the Scholar can control Washburn now. He can feel that control still in place.

The Scholar shows Washburn where he has hidden his rightful memories. Truly in place no memories should be located. It would have been near impossible to find them without a deep and prolonged Mind-Seeing scan. "Now I will give you back all that I had hidden from you." And with a touch Washburn's memories come flooding back, almost taking his breath away. They replace the hate, the mistrust, the scorn all with love, trust, and gentleness.

His father wasn't a harsh taskmaster. He was given praise by his teachers and brothers. Washburn wasn't just a 3rd son worth nothing. He was everything.

As these and other memories and emotions flood into Washburn's mind and take their rightful place the Scholar stops at his own controls and whispers into them before leaving Washburn's inner mind and again sits on the rock on the Coroth hillside.

[Bynw]

The Scholar waits for Washburn's memories to resettle into their rightful place. "You are restored now. All of the memories I hid from Valerian are in their rightful place. And you have the memories of what happened to you. Any of your friends or even yourself can blur them if they are too painful."

"Again I am sorry that this happened to you. But I could not have told you the truth or asked for your permission. Valerian is very skilled and could have detected the deception. And we would both be dead now."

"Our seers were right about you. You are indeed special. The first healer-blocker since the Thuryn's and the Great Orin before that."

He bows at the neck towards Washburn. "I will take my leave of your mind soon. The controls that I hold have been reset. In a few hours they simply wont be there as I have released all of the reinvorcements that they had."

"I usually stay in the Free Port of Concaradine under the guise of a merchant. Ask around I am known there by the name Feyd."

"In the east, just across the Southern Sea from Corywn you can find me in the Forcinn Buffer States. There I go by the name Collos Feyd d'Chameaux of Vezarie. Any one can point you towards my family's land and estate."

Feyd gets up from the rock he has been sitting on and again bows towards Washburn. "If there is anything I can do for you. Name it. And if it is in my power to do so I shall have it done. Just as I had that idiot cousin of Lady Aliset disposed of so she could be free from his influence."

[Jerusha]

Darcy Cameron's mind seemed to be enveloped in a calm, grey fog.  He could see no stars, nor could he see the moon.  He felt no discomfort, no need to try to break free, but he felt tired.  He knew he needed to get his crew to the shore and across the sands to where all would be healed.  But how could he chart his course through such a thick fog? 

He sensed rather than felt the soft drops of rain.  He felt refreshed for a moment, but the fog did not clear.  How was he to find his way?

He knew Aliset was beside him, although he could no longer feel her hand in his. She had more experience in this than he did, and she would find the way to shore.  And he would follow, trusting her completely.

The grey fog swirled around him and pulled him deeper into its gentle embrace.

[Jerusha]

"It's wrong!  It's wrong!  This is not the way it should be!"

All of Aliset Cameron's training in ritual magic was screaming at her that something was very wrong, but the screams were growing weaker.  She could feel herself being pulled deeper into the trance as the demand for energy grew.  If she could not resist, she would soon lose all sense of awareness and any hope that she could discover what had gone wrong.

She centered her powers more deeply, tapping into her own energy to counter the demands of the trance. 

((Will Aliset be able to maintain her awareness?  Standard roll of two dice, with success on 4, 5, or 6.
jerusha rolled 2d6: 2 1  <Total: 3> Cursed  dice!
I cannot use XP on behalf of Evie, but Bynw has allowed Aliset a second roll for a better outcome.  I have waited 24 hours for the bad karma to dispel.
jerusha rolled 2d6: 5 1  <Total: 6>That's better!))

Aliset felt the pull of the trance lessen.  For a moment, she was afraid that she had broken the link, but she could still sense Darcy and Father Columcil's presence. They remained united as one.   She looked at Father Paulos and saw that he was sweating profusely now.  Of course!  Redirecting her energy for her own use was denying it to Paulos, but that meant he was drawing more heavily on Darcy and Father Columcil.  She would need to work quickly before their energy was drawn down to a dangerous level.

She focused on what Father Paulos was doing.  He was scrying for the spells cast upon the ruby.  This was a simple enough task; the energy expenditure should not be this high. By maintaining the multiple attacks against the ruby, he had increased the energy required, but it still seemed out of proportion to her.  The trance she had pulled free from, but which still held Darcy and Father Columcil in its embrace, was too deep for even the multiple attacks. 

And what of the ruby itself?  How was it able to resist Father Paulos, not to mention being able to fight back?  If only they had been able to scan it more deeply, but they had run out of time.  Washburn could not be left in this coma state much longer.  Soon his body would begin to waste away for want of water and food, and even the most skilled Healers could not prevent that.

Was the problem Father Paulos?  Perhaps he was not as skilled as he had led them to believe.  He was a Torenthi priest after all, but to believe he had played them false because of that would be the same as believing all Deryni were evil!  No, they  had no cause to not believe in his skill, and his desire to assist them had been genuine.

((Test to try to discern what is wrong with the ritual.  Aliset rolls a standard test; the total result must be greater than the roll the Scholar made to prevent it.  Roll was done off-camera, so the Scholar's results are unknown.
jerusha rolled 2d6: 3 5  <Total: 8>
Not bad, but Bynw says not good enough.  Aliset will reroll tomorrow to see if she can do better.
jerusha rolled 2d6: 6 3  <Total: 9>
Better, but Bynw says still not good enough.  GRRRR.))

Aliset had examined the problem from every angle she could think of, but to no avail.  She was now certain that the problem was not Father Paulos.  Something had been hidden within the ritual, but what that was continued to elude her.

Aliset turned her attention from Father Paulos and suddenly realized that, while she had been concentrating so hard to discover the source of the problem, the energy drain had stabilized.  It was still significant, but it was no longer increasing.  The trance would remain deep, but not dangerous.  Father Paulos must have moved past another spell, but she could not be sure.

She could only watch, wait, and pray that this would end well.

[Laurna]

"You confirm my suspicions about Lord Oswarld."  Wash pursed his lips together. "Such dealings are not in line with my beliefs. Not that I deny the agreement I made with you, nor do I regret the outcome. He murdered Aliset's family! I think I would like to have skewered the man on the end of my sword. Then Healed him, to see him sent to the king's dungeons and buried there. I try to be a good man, but understand, I am not a priest with endless forgiveness, so I will not deny that your way has its merits, within certain lines.  I think we shall just have to let this one go. It does prove one thing, that an agreement with you is binding. I will remember that, and I will be more careful in my dealings with you in the future."

"Duly noted," the scholar simply replied.

"Am I to presume from this that I do have a future? You've known I am a Healer, you probably knew it before I did. Those seers of yours.  But you couldn't have known weeks ago that I carried this Blocking ability. How could anyone even imagine such an ability? I have used it twice, and not in the manner which is prescribed in the scroll. Are you here to punish me for that? The only defense I have was that it was in self-defense. One of those instances I can reverse, if I ever see her again. Do you know anyone else who can do this... thing?" Wash looked straight at Feyd. The scholar's eyes were non-committal, as expected. But Wash did note a little awe in the upturning of the man's lips. "The scroll which you intended to use to lure me to the library portal, did you know the full content of it? Now that I am not so deluded by drugs, I presume you had little trouble deciphering it yourself. I also assume it was just a copy, since you burnt such an informative document. Was it your order who coded it?"

"I have deciphered the scroll. And I knew you were a Healer." The Scholar replied from his seat on the stone.  "I thought the first parts would interest you enough to get us to the Deryni Library behind the gardarobe where the portal lay. That other business with Aliset? That was not my business. Later when you were in a drugged state, I enjoyed your request to have the scroll. Deciphering that drunken script was a perfect waste of your energy and time. It got us through most of that very long day. I really didn't think you would solve it, not to its end. I am surprised that you did, you don't exactly have a reputation for scholarly study. I have seen your memories. Denis Arilan's assessment of your ability for academics may have been unwarranted, but you did not exactly give him reason to believe otherwise."

Washburn bowed his head low as he replied. "It is my regret that I can no longer make amends with His Grace, Bishop Arilan. I do intend to make amends with my uncle Duncan." the knight looked back up at the scholar. " I owe him much for standing by me all these years.  I have learned that I have much yet that I need to learn. That scroll would be prized at the Schola; it summarizes the full extent of a Healer's abilities.  Yet you burned it!"

"I burned it.  But it was a mere copy. An exact copy, mind you. The original was spell-scribed more than two hundred years ago to hide that last ability from the wrong eyes. The original scroll is a family heirloom, we know it is a summary of the writings of the Green Protocols of Orin. From your expression I see you have heard of those."

"My mother has spent a lifetime in the quest for Deryni knowledge. She has long searched for the Protocols. Saint Camber was known to have had them. They were lost with the Harrowing."

"Scattered. Hidden. Lost? Maybe, maybe not." The scholar smiled at Washburn's piqued interest. But on that subject he would say no more. "Our seers did not have the wrong Morgan. When time has passed, we can meet again."

"You are a complicated man, of many secrets. I am a simple man, secrets don't bide well with me." Wash rubbed his face with both hands. "I am exhausted from all of this." Wash looked around at the animals near him and saw that the eagles and the hare had settled into the grass appearing sleepy. Only the eyes of the lynx stared back at him with deep concern.

"What is going on here? Have you harmed my friends? I will not have their lives on my hands." The scholar had breached his shields, yet that did not keep the knight from tensing every muscle in arms, legs, and chest. He had a great need to seek beyond the scholar to touch the minds of his friends to ensure they were safe.

((14:48 <•Laurna> Rolling a dice to see if Wash can mentally touch his friends and learn they were in Ritual around them. 6XP success on 3,4,5,6
14:48 <•Laurna> !roll 1d6
14:48 <GameServ> Laurna rolled 1d6: 4 <Total: 4>
14:48 <•Laurna> That is something positive at least. ))

His mind breached the edge of the ruby and touched on the openness of an unfamiliar priest. There was also a second priest in the link, one much more familiar, but Wash could not touch his cousin's consciousness. As he sought through the deep Rapport of minds, he found one who gained awareness of his presence.

"Washburn, are you with us? I can sense you there," The young lady called out.

"Aliset!" Wash called back. But the window that he had opened started to fade and close.

((19:54 <•Laurna> Wash has made a brief contact with Aliset, can he hold the link open. 6XP Success of 3,4,5,6
19:54 <•Laurna> !roll 1d6
19:54 <GameServ> Laurna rolled 1d6: 5 <Total: 5> ))

"Aliset, stay with me. You seem so distant. Are you all right?"

"Wash, we have found you at last." Her voice had a nervous excitement but it was weak in strength. "The ritual is taxing. If it is working, then it is worth the risk."

"Risk? Ritual? Lord above, don't risk yourself for me!" Wash called. Even as he said this, he knew his friends were doing that very thing.

Wash knew the Scholar was still in control of whatever it was that was happening. "Khardasha!" he said with gritted teeth. "Please, let them go!"

"The task is nearly complete, but if you push my efforts backwards the extra time to correct what was wrong could do them harm." The scholar stated. "You need to let me finish what has begun."

Wash purposefully took in a deep long breath. He had to calm his nerves and keep his shields from pushing at the mind who held him in thrall. "I will do as you say to save my friends from further danger. But before I fully submit, I have two requests to make of you. I urge that the first be taken care of before my friends do something untoward. I need you to take back and to destroy that potion that causes devastation and madness. The blue fire in the green topped bottle that I wear around my neck, the same that was used to kill my father.  No one should have that power. Take it and be rid of it.  Secondly, if you still have it, I would like my Camber medal back. You probably would not understand what that small token means to me."