Magic Of Light

The Legend of Mojallan the Great

Hullasam hem Jivraim looked into the distance as if recalling the story from deeply buried memories, then he started to talk.

"After the fall of the Ortemen Empire chaos followed. Tribes emerged, Kingdoms were formed and wars spread like wild fires. I wish it had never happened, but it had, and today we can learn from the mistakes our ancestors made.

"It was at that time when Mojallan hem Homalad lead his tribe to the South to look for a land to settle down. The journey was long and perilous, and many of his people died. Wild hordes attacked them for food, and took the unfortunate ones to make them slaves. Others fell sick of unknown, strange diseases, but forward they marched, keeping their eyes on the price of finding a new land.

"As they went far to the South they had less trouble from people, but the weather became their new enemy. Our land is so hot, that life can exist only close to water. Fauna flourishes around wells and rivers, but on places where there is no water, one can find only wind blowing the dry sand. Only the brave and experienced dare to cross these deserts. Sometimes it takes a week to travel from one oasis to the next one, and the only life one can see is vultures circling above.

What a dramatic story, Condredar thought. He ad to admit that the Sharek had his way with words, because the royal audience sat and listened in silence. Condredar suppressed an annoyed sigh and pretended that he was also interested to hear the Sharek out.

"Mojallan travelled from one oasis to the next," Hullasam continued, "hoping that the desert would end and they would find a better place to live. They were wandering between the sand dunes, drinking their last portion of water, when a storm came. Sandstorms are not rare in my land, and these days we are well prepared. However at that time Mojallan and his people didn't know how dangerous a sandstorm could be. It was not like any storm they saw during their journey. There was no rain, no thunder, no lightning, but the wind was so strong, they could hardly stand up. It picked up the sand and hurled it at everything that came in its way. The grains of sand prickled the skin, and if people didn't cover themselves, it caused bruises and hurt their eyes and got into their lungs. They couldn't do anything but stop, get under cover and wait for the storm to stop.

"When it did, the leaders of the tribe found Mojallan wounded and unconscious. He was bleeding from a wound on his chest, which looked like something penetrated his skin with brutal force, leaving a small hole the size of a tip of a finger. In the wound a healer found a small black stone that was stopped by a bone. If it went just a little bit aside, it would have pierced Mojallan's heart. The healer bandaged the wound and applied all the herbs and creams she could, but they only could hope that Mojallan was going to survive. He laid feverishly for days, his life hanging on a thread thinner than a hair.

Hullasam paused for a few moments, looking around, his eyes meeting others'.

Condredar lifted his cup of wine and stared into the red liquid. Right. The great hero of ages, Ladies and Gentlemen. How long should I listen to this nonsense?

The Sharek went on. "The tribe had to go on to find food and water. At the edge of giving up and dying from starvation finally they found a river. The vegetation was alive on its banks and they found a place that was rich in food. They decided to travel no further.

"Mojallan's fever eventually went down and he gained consciousness. He was still weak but able to eat and drink. He convalesced for weeks before he could stand and walk again. Slowly he recovered. He kept the black stone on a leather strap on his neck as an amulet.

"But something must had remained from his illness, because he started to see visions. He talked about seeing strange lights coming out of his chest. The leaders were worried that something happened to his mind, and behind his back they argued whether to trust him anymore. They couldn't agree, so they settled to watch Mojallan closely.

"As the time went, Mojallah's state became more and more serious, he saw visions again and again. He claimed to see a coming sandstorm, when the sky was bright and empty. Strangely, the storm arrived a few hours later with full force. Another time he warned someone that a snake was going to bite him. A few hours later a snake did try to bite him, that he could avoid because of Mojallan's warning.

"A rumour spread that Mojallan could see the future. Most of the tribe was sceptic about it, but after many events like this more and more people beleived that Mojallan indeed could predict future events. The elders thought that his wound and his illness has to do something with it, and they came to the conclusion that from the gods Mojallan had received the power of knowing the future.

Condredar really had to work on not letting a groan out. Here we are again, now comes the magic. Condredar should have known that it was about the magic. Of course it was. King Faerden was obsessed about it, Condredar saw it clearly now. So far they were only strange-looking "wizards" and story-tellers the King invited, this was the first time that he fooled someone in high rank to present an unbelievable fairy-tale like this. A thought occurred to Condredar. Was Hullasam really a Sharek from Kollavan? Or it was only a game to entertain the royal court. In either way, the time has come to do something.

"During the following years," Hullasam continued, "Mojallan proved himself to be a visionary leader, always making the right decisions. The tribe grew and at a point the river couldn't produce enough food. Mojallan gathered brave men and women and they left to find a new oasis. With his power he led them to another place rich in water and plants and animals.

"Mojallan didn't stop discovering the land. He had founded many villages, and he expanded the tribe's territory. Other tribes joined him and swore oath to follow his leadership. He had built the Kingdom of Kollavan, and he had ruled it for decades as the most just and visionary king ever sat on the throne of Kollavan.

"Today our historians argue what his power really was. Did he received it from the gods as a gift? If so, which god? Was it magic? If so, how did he acquire it? Some say it was the black stone. From the ancient rolls there isn't much we can find out, and I think that the history obscures it further. However, one facts remains: Mojallan was the greatest Kollavan king of all, and he did have magical powers."

The hall was silent. Condredar haven't realised how intensely he people listened to the tale of the Sharek. The murmur came back to the hall, the nobles started to discuss Hullasam's story, some with awe, others with scepticism. The King raised his hand to silence the crowd.

"Thank you, Sharek of Neisha for sharing this wonderful legend. Please allow me to express my noble envy for you having such an amazing King. I appreciate that you have entertained us wonderfully. Now, would you join us in our feast?"

Condredar didn't listen to the answer, because he saw one of his personal guards enter through a side entrance hurrying to him.

"What is it?" asked the Lord.

"Sir, there was a break in." The guard's expression was grim.

"What break in? Where?"

"In your residence, Sir. I think it requires your attention."

Condredar cursed and stood up. As he turned to leave, he saw Lady Jeanne's disappointed grimace. He had to agree with her, what a lost opportunity. He cursed again and left the royal feast to get after whoever dared to break in his house.

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