Dannil Mylo
“Yes,” Dannil replied, eyes downcast. There was no point in appearing confident – or “arrogant” as the other members of the Council chose to see it. “I am forbidden to use any of the arts I have been taught, for any purpose, unless this directive is removed by a member of this living Council.” A neat package – none of those sitting would go against the others, and once all were dead there was no way his bonds could be removed. Dannil could of course defy the Council and practice in secret, but those who chose such a path were almost always found out and their lives cut brutally short.
After four years of near-constant training with the Moldable Will, Dannil was unsure which was worse: death at the hands of Council assassins or never being able to touch the source of his power again.
“I cast you out,” the master continued, turning his back as he spoke. “You shall never darken these halls again with your filth, nor pollute the minds of the young men and women who seek a greater truth.”
It took an effort not to laugh; Dannil had been trying to free the young fools from the ilthor-refuse they were being fed as knowledge, and so far as he knew the master supported his aims. While it was possible the old man was a traitor to the cause of truth, it was more likely that one of the Emperor’s spies had been made aware of what was taking place and acted to enforce the strict interpretations of faith as decreed by the Dusk Lords. For most of those living in the Empire, such ancient and foolish thoughts were not worth a moment of time, but those at the Academy were held to a higher standard. Typically, the Dusk Lords left those of the Academy to their own devices, but Dannil's campaign against forced ignorance had been aggressive; clearly too aggressive for his own good.
“I am cast out,” he replied, then leveled a stern glare at the man he had called teacher and friend. “And am sorry to leave the Academy in such weak and foolish hands.” Without waiting for the final rite of the ceremony Dannil stripped off his black robe and let it fall to the stones below, turning on his heel as it slumped around him. He would obey, but he would not accept.
***
“You're him, aren't you?” Haylor Prio tried to force his voice down into a more manly octave but had little luck. “Dannil Mylo – I've finally found you!”
The middle-aged man in front of him shrugged and then returned to his work, the crafting of what appeared to be a rain barrel. The piece itself was nothing remarkable, but rather the fact that the man crafting it was not using his hands or any tools – the barrel was shaping itself in mid-air.
“I'm not here to expose you, if that's what you're thinking!” Haylor went on. “Far from it!”
The man didn't look up from his crafting table, and Haylor moved a step closer, confidence rising. “I read about you in the archives, only bits and pieces but they got me thinking. You had the right of it, I reckon, and the Emperor's all wrong. I couldn't say as much in the Academy; hell, it took me months to find anyone who even knew you. As soon as I got my Orders I started looking – I'm surprised you were so easy to find!”
After a long moment the barrel-maker looked up, blue eyes cold in the flickering lamplight. “Get out,” he grated. “And take your soulless Empire training with you.”
“But,” Haylor floundered, “I'm on your side. I only want to learn!”
The man stood and turned away, moving toward a back shelf to sort through metal banding rings.
“I could have you killed for this defiance!” It was a desperate act, but Haylor was sure he had the right man. Dannil just had to start talking!
“No,” he replied, turning, “you can't. My father is the man you're thinking of – Dannil Mylo. My name is Tannil. I am his son, and not bound by the prohibitions imposed by your Council. Really, young fool, did you think that Dannil would not have aged at all? That he would appear the same as his pictures in your recordings? Truly, my father was right when he spoke of the incompetence of your kind.”
Haylor felt himself bristle under the assault. All he wanted was knowledge, to share with a kindred spirit. “I am not of their kind, fool!” His voice raised again, but he could not help it. “Your father was right – he could do more with the Will than anyone in the last four decades, but was stopped before he reached his full potential. If you're truly of his blood, I could teach you to tap into the legacy of your father; together, we could topple the Academy itself!”
Interest came alight in Tannil's eyes, the first Haylor had seen since his arrival. “The Academy, you say? Toppled? Well, now that is something interesting. What do you propose?”
A deep breath helped steady Haylor somewhat, but his words still came out in a shaky gasp. “My Orders allow me to take on an apprentice, one that I can bring to the Academy for training. Be that apprentice, Tannil, and together we will show the Council the error of their ways!”
The other man smiled, a deadly kind of thing, and Haylor felt a smile spread across his own face. “Yes, teacher,” Tannil said, bowing. “I hunger for your knowledge.”
- D
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