by Dan Zangari
“You’re all being fools,” Jeridi said, stalking over to one of the chairs. “He is not the man who slew our uncle.”
“Uncles,” Laedar corrected coldly. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed out the nearby window. “Don’t forget Uncle Medis.”
“How could he?” Negaris asked sternly. “Jeridi fled from his side like a coward,” speaking as if Jeridi wasn’t in the room.
Those words pained Jeridi. His brothers had never understood his actions on that dreadful day. He had to run. That battle changed him, and the change would be for the benefit of the empire. It was then that Jeridi realized that war was not the answer to the empire’s dilemmas. Perhaps it was the carnage, or even the resolve of their enemies—they had grown strong in the last decades. Jeridi wondered if he doubted his country’s cause… He had often weighed their cause against their enemies’, who fought for what they deemed valiant reasons. Maybe it was the death of his uncle, Medis. What it was, Jeridi didn’t know exactly, but he knew he walked away from that battle changed.
Eventually, Jeridi was able to convince Kaescis that there were alternatives to creating a prosperous empire. But even Kaescis was eventually dissuaded from the ideals of peace. The sons of Mindolarn craved death, and they could only be sated by deluging the world with blood. That was a path Jeridi refused to follow.
He sat quietly as his brothers and cousins conversed about Iltar, the necromancer from Soroth. They believed he was the Alathian, but Jeridi knew he wasn’t. Iltar couldn’t be that man. Yes, they looked alike, but didn’t Adrin have two sons?
“Jeridi,” Raedina said, drawing him from his reverie. “What do you have to say about the man?”
“He’s not the grand mage, cousin,” Jeridi insisted.
“Don’t be so quick to judge, cousin,” Malvonican retorted. “Alathians are cunning men.”
“I know that particular grand mage,” Jeridi said firmly. “Iltar is not that man.”
“Well, I don’t agree with Jeridi,” Laedar said, “but I believe we should get some verification on the matter before we strike.”
“And how do you propose that?” Malvonican demanded smugly.
“We simply see if there is an Iltar at the Soroth Necrotic Order,” Laedar said frankly. “Their numbers have been reduced, so it shouldn’t be hard to verify. And if he does exist, we should check a manifest at Soroth’s Port Authority. His name would be on a charter.”
“Soroth is not a carriage ride away,” Jeridi said, drawing his lips into a line.
“It doesn’t need to be,” Laedar said, gesturing with his hands. “Surely, we have someone in Soroth with a communications rod.”
“The only people outside Mindolarn with such tevisrals are spies,” Jeridi retorted. “Are you implying that we’ve started spying on our allies? When has that become policy?”
“Since the most paranoid of our uncles became emperor?” Malvonican said sardonically. “You might be oblivious to this, but we are not beneath circumventing policies and treaties.”
Jeridi gave Malvonican a cold gaze. What was happening to the empire? Father would be enraged seeing us like this, Jeridi thought. We are not mighty, not anymore.
“Whatever we do in Soroth, we must first contact Grandmaster Alacor,” Negaris said. “I gleaned some details from our conversation at lunch that I wish to verify with him.”
“I believe we can contact the Ambassador to Soroth,” Raedina said. “We’ve constructed a variety of tevisrals for our foreign officials, and I believe communication rods were one of them.”
Jeridi couldn’t believe what was being said. He had no clue that the Hilinard was doing such things.
“I’ll send a message at once,” Negaris said.
Malvonican chuckled. “While you two are playing spy, I guess I’ll be doing the important work—strategy,” he grinned deviously.
“You’re just looking for an excuse to kill someone,” Laedar observed with a chuckle.
Malvonican simply grinned.
In that moment, Jeridi knew Malvonican couldn’t be persuaded. No matter what Laedar or Negaris uncovered, Malvonican would still kill Iltar. And all because he and Raedina assumed Iltar was the Liberator of Klis? How preposterous.
“You’re going to kill him regardless…” Jeridi muttered.
“Well, if he’s not an imposter, he’s a blasphemer,” Malvonican said. “Did you know he is searching for information on Vabenack and our Divine Father? He’s digging too deeply into matters no man should uncover.”
“I will have no part in the murder of an innocent man,” Jeridi said, disgusted.
“He’s a Sorothian,” Negaris said matter-of-factly. “They’re never innocent.”
Jeridi gave his brother a cold glare. Though he had become a pacifist, there was still some fight left in him.
“Your ideals for peace have made you soft,” Malvonican spat.
Jeridi hurried to the door. He would no longer be party to this madness. As he left the room, Jeridi heard his brothers and cousins continue to plot their revenge on a man they knew nothing about.
And that sickened him.
“The Chosen became icons of Cheserith’s empire. Many saw them worthy of emulation. They were esteemed beyond the draconic breeds loyal to Cheserith.”
- From The Thousand Years War, Part I, page 35
The annexation of Dalgilur shouldn’t have surprised Cornar, but the prince’s speech was alarming. Cornar wondered what his father—and Iltar’s—would have thought about Kaescis’s bold claims. They would undoubtedly want to stop him… Cornar thought.
Cornar reflected on his earliest experiences in that odd dreamland, particularly his conversation with the not-creature posing as Kandish Loush. That being had claimed that Cornar would find something that would change the course of the expedition.
Am I supposed to change what’s happening? Was he supposed to stop the Mindolarnians from claiming Dalgilur? Kaescis obviously intended to wage a war, one that would bring the enemies of the Mindolarnian Empire to their knees. Soroth would be safe from that tyranny—
A sense of paternal protection surged through Cornar, and he thought of his children living in the Western Sovereignty.
But they would be in danger, Cornar thought. Cornar could bring his children home, but that answer wasn’t satisfying.
Unable to sleep, Cornar girded on his weapons, grabbed his timepiece tevisral, and then wound his way through the war camp, seeking solace in the open air. He glimpsed Jahevial hurriedly making his way back to the war camp, but Cornar paid little attention to the man. The secretive scholar was of little importance when compared to Kaescis.
Cornar was soon striding down the roadway lined with statues. “You would think this occupation an abomination, wouldn’t you?” he whispered to the statues. Sighing, Cornar leaned against the nearest statue, gazing at Dalgilur’s glistening buildings—their lights shone brighter than the stars. Cornar noted the time and then allowed his thoughts to overcome him.
One thought in particular was more prominent than others. How did Kaescis know they would unearth weapons capable of empowering Mindolarn to near global dominance? The more he thought about it, the more Cornar disliked the idea of Mindolarn subjugating Kalda. He was his father’s son, after all.
A cool breeze washed through Dalgilur, drawing Cornar from his thoughts. To his surprise, several hours had passed, and the sun would be rising soon.
I’d better rest, Cornar thought with reluctance.
* * * * *
A few hours later, Cornar and his men were scouting the outer buildings as Kaescis had instructed them. Cornar was just as happy to be away from the Mindolarnians. He selected only seven groups to search the central buildings—the ones that looked elven. The rest of his men Cornar sent to scour the other towering structures.
Then Cornar’s group searched the northernmost elven tower. Their search, however, was uneventful. This particular building consisted of homes, interspersed with strange workshops and res
earch rooms. Cornar assumed the Ancient Keepers made wondrous tevisrals here, but neither he nor Igan understood the things they found.
They finished searching the sixty-second floor and made their way to the building’s rooftop—a flat platform between four arcing walls that almost formed a curving pyramid. Each curving wall had triangular openings, resembling enormous glassless windows.
Cornar strode toward one window-like hole. They were higher than the mountains now, and Cornar could see the stormless horizon from which they’d sailed.
“Now that’s a view!” Igan exclaimed, coming beside Cornar. “How long did that take us?”
Brow furrowed, Cornar looked down at his timepiece tevisral. It indicated that the time was four hours past noon. The sun was hovering across the horizon, beginning its descent into the east.
“Almost eleven hours,” Cornar replied, relaxing his arm.
“We just climbed a building higher than anything else in the known world, and you’re indifferent about it?” Igan asked with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong, Cor?”
Cornar looked at his friend, his expression uneasy. “I’ve been reflecting on those dreams…” he trailed off. “An encounter from that first dream keeps coming back to me. And I’ve been troubled by Kaescis’s declaration—”
A snorted snore startled Cornar, and he turned, seeing Kamdir lying on the rooftop with his hands under his head. The young warrior was fast asleep.
Igan grunted. “The prince’s announcement shouldn’t have come as a surprise,” he said. “Did you think Kaescis would not annex this island?”
Cornar drew his lips to a line. Igan didn’t press the issue, and both of them gazed across the mountaintops toward the distant horizon. All the while, Kamdir snored lightly.
Igan eventually spoke. “You want to stop Kaescis, don’t you?” the wizard asked sternly.
“How would an unstoppable Mindolarn Empire impact the world?” Cornar asked.
“There would be blood across every phedan of the Mainland,” Igan said somberly. “We would probably be safe on Soroth.”
“Can you really stand by and watch so many innocent people suffer?” Cornar asked, his voice pained—he thought of his children once again. “I can’t let Kaescis leave this island.”
“That’s suicide, Cor!” Igan blurted.
The odds were not in their favor. For every one of Cornar’s men there were at least ten Mindolarnian soldiers—and that didn’t include the sailors or the Crimson Praetorians. And then there were the Wildmen… Twenty to one, Cornar thought.
“If you’re going to strike, at least wait until Solidin arrives,” Igan suggested warily.
“What?” Cornar glanced curiously at the wizard.
“Isn’t that why you’re gazing northward?”
Would Solidin and the Sapphire Guard be able to reach Dalgilur? Kaescis had mentioned their coming during their meeting on the seas. But the earthquake on Klindala had destroyed Solidin’s mapping tevisral. So, how would they know where to go? Nothing in the Keepers’ Temple even hinted at Dalgilur’s location.
“You don’t think they’ll find this place, do you?” Igan asked.
“I don’t see how…”
Igan’s expression was thoughtful. “Krindal was able to sense the island as we passed through the storm.”
That gave Cornar pause. He considered the fact that Krindal’s perception had been triggered by proximity to the island. Could Solidin sense Dalgilur clear across the world?
“There was a passage in the book I was reading that claimed the Keepers always knew where Dalgilur was located. No matter where they were, they knew how to get home—like birds flying to their winter nests. If Solidin has been relying on that sense since leaving Klindala, he will surely know how to get here,” Igan reasoned. “And as with most abilities, the more he uses it, the more proficient he will become. I have no doubt they will arrive.”
If Solidin were here, it would be easier to stop Kaescis, but the prince had relentlessly cut down those of the Sapphire Guard he encountered at the Keepers’ Temple. The elves had no way of resisting that blade of his…
Igan continued his reasoning, voicing what Cornar had already realized.
Cornar looked down to his weapons, remembering the words of that projection-thing in Klindil. Absorption and reflection… An abrupt flash of vision filled Cornar’s mind of his father dueling with the long-dead Emperor Medis. Melthas had stood his ground against that enormous blade. In fact, if Cornar’s father had been alone with the emperor, Medis would most likely have fallen.
“… but even with them, we’re not guaranteed victory. I mean, you saw Kaescis in the courtyard,” Igan said, sighing. “Oh, if only Iltar were here.”
Iltar? Cornar thought.
And then it hit him. The Darkness magic…
“Nothing stands up to that Darkness magic,” Igan said matter-of-factly.
“You’re right,” Cornar said, “except for these.” He patted his weapons.
Igan looked at Cornar quizzically. Cornar hadn’t told Igan or the others all the details about the battle he had experienced with his father. “Have you ever noticed how magic persists on my blades? Even after someone attempts a dispel.”
Igan nodded, and his eyes widened with enlightenment.
“These weapons can withstand the Darkness magic,” Cornar said. “My father fought Emperor Medis with these weapons, and the emperor was using a blade much like Kaescis.”
Igan’s intrigued faded. “But he died, Cor…”
“Not from the duel,” Cornar said. “He almost slew Medis.”
The wizard turned back to the horizon, pondering Cornar’s words. “You’re going to need a flawless plan,” Igan said, thoughtfully drawing his lips into a line.
“Agreed, but we should get back and report first,” Cornar said, turning from the majestic view. He walked to Kamdir and nudged the sleeping man in the ribs to wake him. “We’ll hold a meeting tonight,” he said, “somewhere away from Mindolarnian ears.”
* * * * *
“This is ridiculous!” Nordal shouted, kicking over a table. He grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it across the room. It was like most of the other rooms they had encountered on this island—beautiful beyond comprehension, unnaturally pristine, and damned sturdy.
“Uh, Nordal, be careful…” Tinal warned. “That could be—”
“We don’t know what half—no, any—of this is!” Nordal yelled, cursing furiously and grabbing what appeared to be a tevisral. He tossed it against the nearby window, but the glass didn’t break, and the thrown tevisral just bounced back and dropped to the floor.
“Damn it!” Nordal cursed. “I can’t even break anything in here!”
“Well, now we know how this place has stood the test of time,” Midar smiled. “And now it’s withstanding the test of Nordal.”
Nordal glared at his fellow warrior. “Where are the weapons?” he demanded, stomping across the room. “Where are the tevisrals we know?” He grabbed his hair, growling softly.
“Why don’t we start heading back,” Midar suggested. “We can pick up a few of these tevisrals along the way and give them to the Mindolarnians. We’ll take two of each—give them one while we take the other. Once they find out what they are, then we can keep it as our plunder.”
“I like that idea,” Tinal said. “We can hide a sack somewhere, then send Ordreth and the others after it.”
“Good call,” Midar said, nodding. “What do you think, Nordal?”
Nordal continued cursing for a while, but eventually stopped. “That’s fine,” he grumbled.
* * * * *
Later that evening, in the war room of the Imperial Tent, Cornar gave his report to Kaescis and the rest of the expedition’s council. Cornar and Nordal were the odd teams out—as the rest of their band had brought several kinds of powerful tevisrals back to the war camp.
Kalder’s group had found an observatory atop one of the elven towers; it contained an enormous
living map of the surrounding waters. From what Kalder reported, a topographical map—akin to Krindal’s mapping tevisral—depicted a storm raging across the ocean. The Mindolarnians were quite intrigued with the find, especially Grand Marshal Hezidex.
There was plenty of speculation that what Kalder had found was controlling the ever-persistent storm in the World’s Frown. That made sense to Cornar—the lightning alone was quite unnatural.
More reports were given, and Cornar learned that Crenai and her scouts had found a weapon cache. She brought several weapons to the meeting. They were unlike any weapon Cornar had ever beheld. Most looked broken—as they were only hilts of swords, or bows without strings. But when held, the weapons abruptly changed. Bowstrings and blades materialized out of thin air. The process looked like an instantaneous transmutation. These weapons obviously had tevisrals within them that enabled such wondrous transformations. Cornar thought the weapons looked elven, but none of the scholars or the Mindolarnians made mention of the weapons’ craftsmanship.
After reports were delivered, Kaescis doled out more tasks. This time, Cornar and his band were assigned to the western section of the Hall of the Guardians. Most others were assigned to map the upper levels of the southern section.
Crenai was the first to leave the meeting. Her departure gave Cornar an idea.
After exiting the Imperial Tent, Cornar went straight to his men resting in the Royal ring. Many looked at him quizzically—undoubtedly because of the grin spread across his face.
“Well?” Igan whispered, looking tense.
“We’re going to do some more exploring tonight,” Cornar said cheerily, tucking a thumb under his belt. A couple of the warriors looked at each other with confusion. “Kaescis has tasked us with searching the western part of this structure.” Cornar gestured his freehand in a circle over his head. “And since it’s so large, I think we should get a head start.”
Briskly, Cornar turned from his men and walked toward the Praetorians standing guard between the two inner rings of the war camp. The group was soon out of the war camp and headed westward through the enormous space. Cornar gave a casual order for them to break up into their groups but didn’t tell them to disperse. The more senior warriors came beside him—Kalder, Gregan, Nordal, Midar and Aron. Vargos and Igan were with him as well.