Elantris - Brandon Sanderson [131]
“If only he would explain what it means to ‘channel the Dor’!” Raoden exclaimed, rereading a particularly annoying passage that kept using the phrase.
“Dor, sule?” Galladon asked, turning away from his planting. “That sounds like a Duladen term.”
Raoden sat upright. The character used in the book to represent “Dor” was an uncommon one—not really an Aon at all, but simply a phonetic representation. As if the word had been transliterated from a different language.
“Galladon, you’re right!” Raoden said. “It isn’t Aonic at all.”
“Of course not—it can’t be an Aon, it only has one vowel in it.”
“That’s a simplistic way of putting it, my friend.”
“But it’s true. Kolo?”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Raoden said. “That doesn’t matter right now—what matters is Dor. Do you know what it means?”
“Well, if it’s the same word, then it refers to something in Jesker.”
“What do the Mysteries have to do with this?” Raoden asked suspiciously.
“Doloken, sule!” Galladon swore. “I’ve told you, Jesker and the Mysteries are not the same thing! What Opelon calls the ‘Jeskeri Mysteries’ is no more related to Duladel’s religion than it is to Shu-Keseg.”
“Point taken,” Raoden said, raising his hands. “Now, tell me about Dor.”
“It’s hard to explain, sule,” Galladon said, leaning on a makeshift hoe he had crafted out of a pole and some rocks. “Dor is the unseen power—it is in everything, but cannot be touched. It affects nothing, yet it controls everything. Why do rivers flow?”
“Because the water is pulled downwards, just like everything else. The ice melts in the mountains, and it has to have a place to go.”
“Correct,” Galladon said. “Now, a different question. What makes the water want to flow?”
“I wasn’t aware that it needed to.”
“It does, and the Dor is its motivation,” Galladon said. “Jesker teaches that only humans have the ability—or the curse—of being oblivious to the Dor. Did you know that if you take a bird away from its parents and raise it in your house, it will still learn to fly?”
Raoden shrugged.
“How did it learn, sule? Who taught it to fly?”
“The Dor?” Raoden asked hesitantly.
“That is correct.”
Raoden smiled; the explanation sounded too religiously mysterious to be useful. But then he thought of his dream, his memories of what had happened so long ago. When the Elantrian healer had drawn her Aon, it appeared as if a tear were appearing in the air behind her finger. Raoden could still feel the chaotic power raging behind that tear, the massive force trying to press its way through the Aon to get at him. It sought to overwhelm him, to break him down until he became part of it. However, the healer’s carefully constructed Aon had funneled the power into a usable form, and it had healed Raoden’s leg instead of destroying him.
That force, whatever it had been, was real. It was there behind the Aons he drew, weak though they were. “That must be it…. Galladon, that’s why we are still alive!”
“What are you babbling about, sule?” Galladon said, looking up from his work with tolerance.
“That is why we live on, even though our bodies don’t work anymore!” Raoden said with excitement. “Don’t you see? We don’t eat, yet we get the energy to keep moving. There must be some link between Elantrians and the Dor—it feeds our bodies, providing the energy we need to survive.”
“Then why doesn’t it give us enough to keep our hearts moving and our skin from turning gray?” Galladon asked, unconvinced.
“Because it’s barely enough,” Raoden explained. “AonDor no longer works—the power that once fueled the city has been reduced to a bare trickle. The important thing is, it’s not gone. We can still draw Aons, even if they are weak and don’t do anything, and our minds continue to live, even if our bodies have given up. We just need to find a way to restore it to full power.”
“Oh, is that all?” Galladon asked. “You mean we need to fix what is broken?”
“I guess so,” Raoden said. “The important thing is realizing there’s a link between ourselves and the Dor, Galladon. Not only that—but there must be