Journal 1
Journal – Gerald Steward - April 7th, 2000
(As is the habit of some people who keep journals or diaries, they write them as if written to friends or loved ones. In the case of Gerald Steward, these are letters to his deceased wife Elizabeth.)
Hello Beth,
Wish you could have been here today. As I have written you before, life has continued to be truly remarkable since I began to work for the Lord Ian Patrick this last November. Today was no exception.
While I am privy to many of his private thoughts and workings of the tower, I don't always follow what all of his plans are.
Back, in March Ian completed a device and took it from the tower. The pieces of it looked like something strange out of a Leonardo Devinci drawing. I followed and watched. When he finished connecting it together, the device began to hum. Gears spun and lights glowed. Soon an unearthly wail rose from it. After a few moments I realized that it was the howl of some beast. Ian turned from the device and went back into the tower apparently pleased with its operation. Not knowing what else there was to be done, I followed as well.
He let this continue for days. Fortunately the sounds did not penetrate the walls of the tower or I would have been driven mad. As it was, it seemed to draw wolves of all sorts. When I mentioned that there were a great number of the beasts outside Ian’s only response was to ask "how many of them are there." I replied that I was unsure. He then instructed me to go to the ramparts and give him a more precise count.
Somehow I knew that I had failed some sort of test, but wasn't aware of what it was. Only later would I see the error of my words and prejudices.
It seemed that he was calling a conclave of sorts. When he deemed that there were sufficient numbers of them, he went out, turned off the device and addressed the assembly of creatures. Since I was instructed to stay inside I was unaware of what had transpired, but was not forbidden to watch. The creatures seemed to understand him, though I could tell by occasionally reading his lips that he spoke in English.
When he had finished about 20 of the wolves came up the hill to greet him. The rest still milled about, then he waved his hands and that White Flame of his flashed here and there about the hillside and haunches of meat he had been storing appeared. It seemed that even those who did not come with him would receive a dinner before he left. I think there was something more to this than just good will but Ian was elusive in his answers.
The next thing I knew was that a pack of wolves was in the tower.
Ian said, "Gerald, these are our guests. Please come over so that they can get a good smell of you." I must say that this took me aback, but I had resolved to serve this wizard so I obeyed.
"My friends, this is Gerald my trusted servant. He is part of my pack and I would be very angry if he came to harm." To my utter amazement a couple of the wolves looked at him questioningly and he turned his head and in response looked at them. I can only assume he was communicating telepathically. They seemed to accept his message and they took off wandering about the tower.
For several weeks they wandered about the tower and Ian met with them individually and collectively in his laboratory. He gave strict orders not to be disturbed during these sessions.
I was concerned with them damaging the contents of the tower, but the wolves behaved themselves as if they were human guests. Actually better than some I have seen.
Beth, the amazing thing was as the days continued, they changed. It was nothing as simple as on the outside, but a quality within them. If I had to shoo them from a place, they seemed to comprehend what I said. Sometimes they responded to my unspoken thoughts…
Well after several weeks of this Ian called me outside the tower. Arrayed about the tower, the 20 wolves stood, almost like soldiers at attention.
Ian stood and as I took my place a pace behind him and to his right he spoke a word of power and silver light danced about the tower and he spoke. “I, Ian, son of Corwin grandson of Oberon of Amber, do hereby pledge myself to these my guardians, my warders. To them I grant my power. Silver light flared from each of the wolves.
The wolves let out a howl that chilled one to the bone, but not with fear, but a strange trill of excitement.
Ian spoke up again. “I hear your words. I accept your strength, you speed and your power. You are my warders and I yours. With this let the bond be made!”
White flame danced about Ian, the tower, the ground, the wolves, and even myself. The touch of power made my head swim but filled me with a flicker of the vigor and strength of my youth.
The wolves congregated around Ian and myself. They actually wanted to come up to Ian. Soundless words seemed to pass between them and the master. Then one by one, they all retreated into the woods.
We reentered the tower and Ian made his way down to his study and dropped into a chair. He seemed tired but excited.
I asked. “If, I may, what just happened?”
Ian smiled, reached out and conjured a bottle of wine. Handing it to me, I poured him a glass and he thanked me and drank it.
“I have started the process.”
I asked what process he had started.
“The reclaiming of the planet with a new set of tools.”
I professed to him that I did not follow his logic.
“Gerald I have seen the history of this world. Men created tools and wrought a civilization with them. Unfortunately, those in power really didn’t understand the tools. They wielded their power but gained no wisdom from it. Eventually that led to their downfall. I am seeking to create a different set of tools that can communicate. A biological tool that is renewable, communicates and assists people when they are being…short sighted.” He smiled. “It does not replace their existing set, but give additional options.”
I must have looked perplexed because he continued.
“If a man takes a car and drives into a burning building, he most likely will kill himself. If the same man tries to take a horse into a burning building, it will balk at the request. Granted it would be out of self-preservation, for the horse, but the transportation would not unthinkingly follow the owner directive. This is what I am working towards; devices that won’t blindly follow directions. In the previous illustration, the horse may be coaxed under the right training and trust with the rider it might change the flames, but there is that trust and time investment. The rider has to understand the horse before he tries this and there is going to be some risk on his part, he will have some investment in the horse so is unlikely to throw it away on a whim…”
Ian grew quiet. “What I’m trying to say if perhaps man can gain a deeper understanding of his world through a different set of perceptions, then perhaps he won’t be doomed to make the same mistakes he has now made. This is the path I am trying to blaze so that there is another option for the future.”
Suddenly Ian looked weary and not just from fatigue. He excused himself and then vanished.
Beth, I think I may take his example and retire for the evening as well
Your loving husband
Gerald
-- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2001 by Michael Liebhart, and may not be
-- reprinted without permission.
-- Otherverse as an apocalyptical setting is an original creation of Dylan Clearbrook
-- Some characters in Otherverse stories are original creations of Dylan Clearbrook,
-- Michael Liebhart, Jason Gasper, or Jake H. and may not
-- be used without express permission of the respective author
-- Supergirl and some other characters are property of D.C. Comics
-- Rogue and some other characters are property of Marvel Comics
-- Amber characers and references are property of Rodger Zelazne </