Monday, March 7, 2011

Fiction: The Blind Wizard's Journal

I'm not ready to start writing the sequel to my fantasy novel.  My first one needs revision, and that process will determine the course of the second part of the narrative.  Additionally, I'm not looking forward to plunging into the pool of Lariel again, given that it took me ten years to get out of it the first time.

However, I've recently come to a new respect for the first-person narrator, and Lariel provides a ready source of material.  Thus is born The Blind Wizard's Journal.  It is a bridge between my first book and my second book.  I suspect that crossing the chasm will shape the landmasses on either side.


           I have never kept a journal.  Writing was not a habit I pursued when I could see.  Now that I am blind, I desire written words like a starving man desires bread.  I do not care what the words are.  I do not care who the author is.  Idoun himself could write of the foulest experiments he has carried out, of the screams of his victims and their slow transformation into Sharo'Dan, and I would devour the words.
            It is not my hand that writes these words now.  For all my power, I cannot restore my sight.  No magic can.  But it is my mind that directs the pen now writing.  Tak, the guardian of the Coriura, has a fragment of my soul inside him.  That fragment is my portal into his body; into his hands and eyes.
            Idoun blinded me a week ago.  Every day since then I have been studying the magic that binds Tak to me.  I have learned many things.
            Tak is a creature unlike any other in the whole of Lariel.  His body is made of pure magic, but he eats and sleeps as if his flesh were made of the same stuff as my own.  When he is alone in the Tower, his mind is like that of an animal.  But as soon as a person comes near, thoughts explode within him.  I have sensed it happen.  So has Mirrin.  I cannot explain it exactly, but I know that, in that moment before his mind constitutes itself, I can force my own consciousness, or some piece of it, into his body.  I can flex his fingers and see through his eyes.
            The first thing I did was look into my own eyes.  They are dead things.  Indeed, they look almost as if they have never lived.  They are dark stones crusted with insect carapaces.  I replaced my blindfold quickly.  That Mirrin will still make love with me in the light tells me more about her than any number of words.
            I made Tak's gaze linger on the Coriura for a long time.  Its beauty is like that of the stars.  To see Mirrin's face lit up in its glow once more...
            Why not?  Why should I not see her face again?  Her face, and Joseph's and Hannah's, and Kephis', and the Prime Minster's?  And our child's, when she is born?  Ah, Mirrin is so convinced that our child will be a girl that I already believe it to be true.
            That first day I spent many hours enjoying the light of the Coriura.  Breaking my connection with Tak was very hard.  I was so afraid of the dark.  But I did it, and darkness has lost its power over me.  Tak told me his mind was 'tucked away in a corner' while I controlled him.  He knew that I was directing his body, and he accepted it as if it was expected.  It almost felt as if he had been happy to surrender himself to me.  If I were to try such a thing with a human, elf, or sprite, it would be the vilest abuse of magic.  But with Tak, because of our bond, and because of his nature, it is acceptable.
            I wonder if he could do the same to me, if he wanted?  Or if Mirrin and I could use him to send thoughts to one another?  Or if we could do even more?
            I must speak with her.

So, there you have it.  The start of The Blind Wizard's Journal.  Certainly not worthy of awards or lavish praise, but I think it is at least a little interesting.  I'll try to post more of the journal once or twice a week, but I make no oath.

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