A Clash of Fates: The Echoes Saga: Book Nine

by Quaintrell, Philip C.

  Asher’s head turned to his left as Avandriell slowly rose from the street with a low growl in her throat. “I think that did it.”

  “Finally,” Doran grumbled, rising to his feet beside the ranger. “I was beginnin’ to wonder if all this talkin’ was for nothin’.”

  Asher drew his broadsword, the rising steel enough to home the Clackers in on his location. “Perhaps now would be a good time to retreat and plan our infiltration.”

  Doran looked up at the ranger’s face and discovered the same hungry expression that ruled his own. They shared a hearty laugh before the dwarf separated Andaljor, taking axe and hammer in hand.

  “Ye take the hundred on the left. I’ll take the hundred on the right.”

  Asher raised his sword in both hands while Avandriell bared her fangs. “Seems fair,” he remarked.

  “Aye!” King Doran hefted his legendary weapons and braced himself. “May the best dwarf win!”

  61

  Legacy

  Seated comfortably on a smooth rock, his wand spinning endlessly between his fingers, Kassian Kantaris let his head loll back while he basked in the summer sun. South of The Evermoore, the Keeper had found the climate he felt suited to. He had longed for it after a freezing winter in the north and a spring that still felt like an extension of winter to him.

  But it wasn’t the climate that had brought him to The Moonlit Plains. Ever since he had passed through the region on the way to the battle, Kassian had come across something he hadn’t been able to get off his mind.

  Returning to a level gaze, he narrowed his eyes through the light and looked upon West Fellion. It was a ramshackle of a ruin. Long abandoned, its upkeep had been neglected and none had tried to piece it all back together. The stone was crumbling in places and utterly shattered in others. Anything made from wood was in the process of rotting and the surrounding moat was better described as a swamp.

  It was perfect.

  Approaching from the ancient fortress, Aphira cut a fierce figure with her wand holstered to her thigh and her sword tight to her hip, the hilt poking out of her Keeper’s coat. Beyond her, Kassian caught sight of a few other Keepers as they inspected various parts of West Fellion’s ramparts.

  “Well?” he called out to Aphira.

  “It’s a dump,” she told him plainly.

  Kassian grinned. “But it could be our dump.”

  Aphira raised a sceptical eyebrow. “The required work aside - and it is considerable - it’s very exposed. Even with a moat, which needs clearing,” she caveated, “we could be approached from all sides. At least in Valatos we had Velia’s high walls around us.”

  “It needs to be here,” Kassian stated. “If this is truly going to be a sanctuary for people who are conduits - as well as a place to learn - it needs its privacy.” The Keeper opened his arms to take in the plains. “The closest anything is miles from here.”

  “What about something like Korkanath?” Aphira put forward. “That had privacy and security.”

  Kassian shook his head. “We can’t be an island. We need to be seen as part of the country, part of the people. Here, in the middle of Illian, there is no disputing that we live on land owned and governed by the house of Draqaro. We need to be making laws with the king and queen, not trying to live outside of them.”

  Aphira chewed over his answer and offered no protest. “The middle of Illian,” she echoed. “Why would it ever be called West Fellion?”

  Kassian gave a short laugh. “Back when Gal Tion was the king of Illian, it was a much smaller Illian. Where we stand was the most western border of his realm. This is where Tyberius Gray founded the Graycoats, on the edge of the wilds.”

  Aphira’s eyes ran over the old stone. “And this is where they fell.”

  “More or less,” he agreed.

  Aphira turned to him. “We aren’t keeping the name, are we?”

  Kassian smiled knowingly but his response was drowned out by a loud call from the top of the ramparts. Following Ayden’s direction, he turned on the rock and looked to the north where a hundred or more horses trotted down The Selk Road.

  Aphira squinted at the distance. “Is that…”

  “Our king and queen,” Kassian finished. His spinning wand slipped through his grasp and he promised himself he would continue to practise the trick until his hand adapted to having only three fingers and a thumb.

  “What are they doing here?” Aphira asked.

  “I invited them,” Kassian informed her. “They had business in Lirian,” he added, gesturing to the north, where The Evermoore lay just out of sight.

  “You just invited the king and queen of Illian!” Aphira said, her voice suggesting she was somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

  “It’s like you said: I’m uniquely positioned.” Kassian rose from his perch and prepared himself to greet the royals.

  Leading the long procession, Vighon and Inara approached the fortress on horseback, both wearing a warm smile for the Keepers.

  “Kassian!” Vighon called out as he climbed down from his horse.

  “Your Graces!” Kassian bowed to the king before the northman embraced him.

  Inara refrained from anything so physical, though she did respond with a polite bow of her head. “It is good to see you again,” she beamed. “And it has been a long time since I have stopped to look upon West Fellion.”

  “Of course,” Kassian replied, his memory catching up with him, “your father would have trained here.”

  “Once upon a time,” Inara said wistfully.

  Vighon pulled off his riding gloves and walked towards the fortress. “I can guess why you invited us here.”

  Kassian stood back so he could better see both Draqaros. “Good. That saves me a long-winded speech. Though you should know it would have been eloquently put, my various points irrefutable. There was a line or two in there that would have brought a tear to your eye.”

  The king wasn’t beyond amusement. “You can have it,” he said, referring to the ruins. “Inara and I have already discussed it. West Fellion is yours, a reward for your efforts during the war.”

  Kassian bowed his head again. “I humbly accept your reward,” he replied, with just a hint of the usual sarcasm in his voice.

  Vighon grinned. “Of course you do.”

  “Unfortunately,” Inara added, “this is the extent of our gift. You have the stone and the land, but we do not have the resources right now to help you rebuild. Coin and labour are needed in a hundred other places and they all have families living there.”

  Kassian held out his hands. “This is gift enough,” he reassured. “And besides, we do not require coin and labour to move a few rocks around.” He gave Aphira a subtle nod to demonstrate his words. With her wand in hand, she lifted one of the fortress’s loose boulders with a flick of her wrist.

  Vighon nodded his head approvingly. “Before you left Namdhor, we spent many a late night talking about this and about what it could be. Are we still in agreement?”

  Kassian gestured for the king and queen to follow him into the ruins. “We will work together,” he articulated. “But it will be for the good of the people who need a place like this, not for the realm itself.”

  “Yes,” Inara echoed. “We will never call upon your mages to fight for our banner. This is to be a place of learning before all else.”

  “A place of safety,” Kassian specified. “In these walls, anyone who is a conduit to the realm of magic will be safe to practice their abilities.”

  “It will have the same protection as everywhere else in Illian,” Vighon assured. “And, should anyone from here seek a job, they will have the same opportunities as everyone else. Any prejudice against them will be treated as a crime.”

  The latter was of the utmost importance to Kassian, for they could only reintegrate with the rest of the world if they were protected by the laws of the realm. “Though our ethos will be to harness control and learn valuable spells, we will always be guiding peop
le to use their magic to benefit others.”

  “What of forbidden magic?” Inara questioned.

  Kassian was getting a headache just thinking of the numerous conversations he had weathered on the matter, and not just with Vighon but also his fellow Keepers. “That which is forbidden brings only temptation. Rather than draw a line through magic and punish those who are curious, I believe we should be open about the extremes magic can be pushed to. It’s only by teaching of what came before us that we will learn how to tread the future.”

  “Very wise,” Inara said. “And I actually agree. But the magic I speak of has the power to upturn the world.”

  Kassian held his hands up. “I’m not suggesting we teach people to raise the dead or walk through time. We need to teach people to be responsible.”

  “There will always be those who view their sense of responsibility differently to the rest of us,” Inara countered. “My brother was a prime example of that.”

  “That’s where the importance of teaching comes in,” Kassian told her. “We shouldn’t shy away from the horrors we’re capable of when magic is at our disposal. And it puts emphasis on us to identify those who might be at risk of taking a darker path. That’s where the trust between us plays its part.”

  “Trust you’ve more than earned,” Vighon pointed out, cooling the atmosphere.

  “I would test the extent of that trust,” Kassian replied, pushing the limits of his unique position. “I intend for this place to be one of truth and learning, but it must also be a safe place to experiment with magic so that we might advance our knowledge of it.”

  “Experiment?” Vighon repeated dubiously. “You never brought this up before.”

  Kassian made an apologetic gesture with his hands. “I know such practices were done in Valatos and never with your knowledge or permission. Unfortunately, it’s a natural reflex when your life revolves around magic. We want to learn more. We want to see where the limits are and break through them. We want to know… everything. There’s no getting away from that curiosity, and if we put restrictions in place, they will just be done anyway, in secret. That’s how your Crows are made.”

  “Kassian is right,” Inara said, her argument shifting. “If it’s going to happen anyway, transparency will breed a healthy caution where experimentation is concerned. And, I can think of no other who could see this through,” she added with a touch of warmth.

  “You’re sure you’re up to the task?” the king enquired. “Even Korkanath and Valatos didn’t have a vision so broad as this. It’s quite the venture, Kassian.”

  “Duty, your Grace,” Kassian corrected. “This is my duty. Seven-hundred and thirteen Drakes gave their lives so magic could endure. This place will be a monument to their sacrifice. And there are surely many in your kingdom who desperately need a place like this to call home.”

  Inara responded with a genuine smile. “You are not the man I once met. You are truly free from your chains of grief.”

  “The chains remain,” Kassian replied honestly, Clara’s image never far from his mind. “They’re just lighter now.”

  “That is good to know,” Inara said quietly. “And your wife would be most proud of what you’ve accomplished. This is a dream worthy of anyone’s legacy.”

  Kassian agreed with a humble nod. “I only wish she were here to help me.”

  Vighon circled on the spot, taking the fortress in. “And what are we to call this place? West Fellion might confuse most as to what your purpose is.”

  “This will be a place where magic abounds,” Kassian replied, looking up at the battlements. “A safe haven for the lost. There was another place like this,” he said, turning back to face the Draqaros. “Welcome to Ikirith.”

  62

  The Blood of Erador

  Almost a year to the day since Vighon and Inara’s wedding celebration, Gideon Thorn dropped out of the sky to find that Namdhor was again in the grasp of winter, as if it had never changed in his absence. Thick sheets of snow clung to the rooftops and smoke rose from the numerous chimneys as life continued in the north of the world.

  Ilargo banked and began his descent towards the city, deliberately angling himself to come in line with The Dragon Keep at the top of the slope. Gideon was sure to keep the bundle of blankets close to his chest.

  Fly once more around the city, he said to his companion. Let them know we’re here.

  Ilargo beat his wings and soared past the keep, his speed enough to force a gust of wind through the open windows. After circling Namdhor and casting his shadow over the lower town, the green dragon made for the large platform that extended from the throne room. By the time he was touching down, the iron portcullis was lifting into its resting place above the arch.

  Seeing Vighon and Inara brought a much-needed smile to the old master’s face. The king and queen greeted Ilargo as an old friend while Gideon climbed down from his saddle and navigated the dragon’s bulk and the platform’s edge.

  Inara’s head pressed into Ilargo’s scales, just below his eyes, and lingered there. “I miss the sound of your voice,” she said to him.

  Gideon felt a pang of great sadness shoot through Ilargo as he inhaled the lingering scent of Athis from Inara’s necklace. Not only did his companion miss talking to Inara, he also missed his long talks with Athis. Gideon had often discovered Ilargo reliving memories with the red dragon.

  “Ilargo is glad he does not have to miss yours,” Gideon said by way of announcing himself.

  Inara held out her arms. “Gideon!” she exclaimed before stopping in her tracks. Like Vighon, she was instantly drawn to the bundle of blankets in her old mentor’s arms. Of course, it was the small legs poking out of the bottom that really caught their attention. “I was starting to fear the worst,” she uttered absently.

  “Yes,” Vighon agreed, his head tilting to better see the shape within the blankets. “We didn’t think you would be gone so long…. Is that a child?” he simply asked.

  “Apologies, your Grace,” Gideon replied as he pulled back a small hood from within the blankets. “This is Gwenyfer,” he introduced, revealing the young girl and her copper ringlets. “Forgive me,” he continued before more questions could follow, “but our journey has been long for one so young.”

  “Of course,” Inara replied, obviously perplexed by the situation. “You both shall have a hot meal by the fire.”

  See that she is safe, Ilargo insisted as he pointed his head to the sky. I’m going to sleep. Wake me when summer is here.

  Gideon kept his amusement to himself and wished his companion good rest. He also happily accepted a place at the Draqaros’ table, by the fire. He unravelled Gwenyfer, leaving her with a single blanket and a fur over her shoulders, compliments of Inara. He quietly explained to her, in the language of her homeland, that she could eat and drink as much as she wanted, and that she was safe in the keep. Seeing some fear in her eyes, he explained it twice and even put some chicken on her fork in the hope of coaxing the girl.

  What followed was a very awkward and silent meal. Vighon and Inara didn’t even touch their food, so intent were they on watching the curious girl in their hall. Despite the strange tension in the chamber, Gideon gave in to his own hunger and helped himself to the food and drink on offer.

  “You have been well?” he finally asked the royals.

  Hesitant to begin with, both Inara and Vighon informed him on a year of travelling around the regions of Illian. As the once Master Dragorn, Gideon sympathised with the tedious affair of having to meet with dignitaries and pompous lords. Still, it had given them a chance to meet the realm as king and queen.

  Spotting a group of servants moving through the chamber, each with a different task involving some form of decoration, Gideon cast a questioning look at his former student.

  “We’re having a small celebration tomorrow night,” Inara explained, her blue eyes only shifting from Gwenyfer for a second.

  “Of course,” Gideon replied, feeling embarrassed
for failing to mention it. “Tomorrow is your first anniversary. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you,” Vighon said politely and in spite of his clear confusion. “Though, it’s supposed to be more of a celebration to one year of peace.” The king observed an elaborate ice sculpture as it passed the open door. “Things seem to have got a little out of hand, I’ll admit.”

  Inara let out a small laugh. “Who knew my husband had such a flair for party planning?”

  “We northmen know how to celebrate, my love,” Vighon boasted, continuing the brief merriment.

  “You are, of course, welcome,” Inara added quickly. “And… your friend.”

  Gideon bowed his head in thanks. “Have I missed your parents?” he asked, recalling their intentions to leave this very winter.

  “No,” Inara answered, as if that was obvious. “They were to set sail for Ayda a few weeks ago, but their vow of support for Illian has kept them here a little longer. You will see them soon though. They are due to return from Grey Stone tomorrow morning.”

  “I look forward to it,” the old master admitted, pausing to pour Gwenyfer another cup of water. “Has there been any news from Dhenaheim?”

  “Not of late,” Vighon said, as he finally began to relax in the company of the girl. “The last we heard, King Doran had taken back all but Nimduhn from the terrors of The Whispering Mountains. As far as we know, Asher and Avandriell are still aiding them.”

  “It is a harsh realm to traverse,” Gideon stated. “I can only imagine the difficulties in marching an army through it only to battle monsters on the other end.”

  Inara paused before sipping her wine. “I imagine Asher and Doran are loving it.”

  Gideon and Vighon agreed with an unreserved laugh. But when the moment ended, they were once again left in the strange situation. Gideon could practically see the numerous questions floating around their heads.

  “If someone could watch over Gwenyfer,” Gideon suggested, drawing the girl’s attention with her name, “then perhaps we could retire to some privacy and discuss matters?”