Lillian sighed. “I don’t understand how the royal family could let things get so bad.”
“It’s not really that difficult to understand, Lillian,” Mariana countered. “Bigotry, indifference, and greed. I, personally, am a little confused about how the bigotry developed, but the king was offering a bounty on elf ears. Just how sick is that?”
“I’m glad that part of our history is over. I know we still have to clean up the consequences of it, but at least, we’re not perpetuating anymore.”
Mariana shook her head. “Don’t kid yourself; I’m sure there are quite a few people out in the hinterlands still advocating the king’s policies toward non-humans. That kind of social change takes decades, if not centuries. And to be fair, not all Archmagisters have been beacons of enlightenment and fairness. Like the tides, their moral character has been both high and low.”
Lillian smiled, her expression regretful. “It would be nice if we could make more progress than we lose, though.”
“It would indeed.”
* * *
Braden stood outside the ruined gatehouse of Othron’s keep. His eyes roamed over the ancient script carved into the stone, and he wondered about the people who had built it. Oh, he was sure he could find information about them in the archives of the Vushaari capital, but there was still something about seeing such a massive artifact of a civilization that no longer existed. Shaking his head and reminding himself of his purpose here, Braden walked through the gatehouse and approached the keep.
The moment he passed through the gatehouse, Braden felt a Conjuration effect wash over the courtyard, and Othron’s voice surrounded him. “Ah…Young Wygoth! How nice of you to return. Please, be welcome. I am in my study.”
Braden smiled as the Conjuration faded and entered the keep. The hidden staircase was where Sarres had found it, and Othron had either triggered the hidden door or it had been open since they’d first visited. A short walk down the stairs delivered Braden to the underground residence of one of the greatest arcanists to ever live.
“Good day to you, Othron,” Braden said, approaching the ancient lich.
Othron nodded once. “Good day to you as well, Young Wygoth. How can an old skeleton be of service?”
“Oh, you’re more than just an old skeleton,” Braden countered. “Gavin asked me to visit you and deliver an invitation to attend a council of the old alliance. Vushaar is sending Roth Thatcherson, and once we’ve finished, I’m going to the dracons.”
“Interesting,” Othron replied. “So, Gavin’s rebuilding the old alliance under the auspices of the Great Houses of Tel?”
Braden shook his head. “Not quite. He’s the Archmagister now.”
“He is? Oh…that is priceless! For the first time since the Founding, an arcanist of House Kirloth is the Archmagister of Tel. I can only imagine the consternation and dismay Gavin is leaving in his wake.”
“Well, he’s already suspended a group of Fifth Tiers for bullying and tormenting a First Tier. The toadies get to start as Fourth Tiers in the new term, and the leader will be Third Tier, assuming they all come back.”
“Yes,” Othron agreed. “That sounds like Gavin. They should be rather happy Gavin found them and not my old friend. Amdar could be…excessive at times.”
Braden frowned, but after a moment’s thought, he recalled that Amdar had been Marcus’s birth name. “I think, perhaps, excessive might be an understatement where he was concerned…at times.”
Othron erupted into laughter, which was really odd for someone who didn’t have lungs. “Oh, yes! Amdar never suffered fools well, and he did not exactly have a deep wellspring of patience. But we digress. Has Gavin determined the schedule for this meeting?”
“Not as such, no,” Braden replied. “At least not that I’m aware of. You’ll probably be seeing me again once he sorts that out.”
“Of course, Young Wygoth. You and your associates are always welcome here.”
Braden nodded. “Thank you, Othron. If you’ll forgive me, I should be moving on to the dracons. I imagine I’ll have my work cut out for me there, since they withdrew from the world and all.”
“Yes…rather unfortunate, that. Be well, and safe journey, lad.”
Braden nodded his respect once more and left.
* * *
Lillian and Mariana were not even an hour back into their journey after stopping for their midday meal, when a massive tree fell across the road no more than twenty-five yards ahead of them. Eight people—both men and women—charged out of the trees at a full sprint and soon stood in an arc around them.
“Thank ye kindly for traveling our road today,” one of the men said. “It’s time to pay the toll.”
Mariana and Lillian shared a look. Lillian gestured for Mariana to speak.
“The toll?” Mariana scoffed. “There’s never been a toll on this trade road. The only fees associated with it are included in the permits for trade caravans.”
“Lookee here, boys,” one of the women cheered. “We got us a lawyer!”
“No,” Lillian countered. “You have Lillian Mivar and Mariana Cothos. If you have even the minimal sense the gods gave a common cur, you’ll run back to your forest hideaway and pray we don’t follow.”
“Now, see here, missy,” the original speaker began. “There’s eight of us and two of you.”
“If our mentor were here,” Lillian replied, “he’d offer to wait while you rounded up more people. It might make a difference, but unlikely.”
Mariana nodded. “Yes. What is Gavin’s record for most people killed at one time, do you think?”
Lillian frowned, her expression thoughtful. “Oh, I’m sure I don’t know. It had to have been that manor the slavers had taken over. There was something like three hundred horses with full tack for each one.”
The ladies returned their attention to the would-be bandits, and Mariana addressed them, “Look. We’re not really interested in making the trade roads more safe right now. If you run away, we’ll let you live.”
“Step down from those horses, girls,” the original speaker growled, pointing at them with his drawn sword, “and hand over your valuables.”
“Left four,” Lillian said.
Mariana nodded, and in unison, Lillian and Mariana invoked a Word of Interation, “Thraxys.”
None of the corpses even released a death rattle as they collapsed where they stood.
Mariana sighed. “Do you want the tree or the bodies?”
“I’ll take the tree,” Lillian replied, and she focused on the tree lying across the road and cleared her mind of all thoughts except her intent as she invoked the Word of Transmutation, “Rhyskaal.”
In the blink of an eye, the tree became neat stacks of firewood with associated stacks of kindling made from the branches and leaves.
Mariana considered the kindling a moment and looked back to the corpses of the would-be robbers. She nodded once and invoked the same Word, turning the kindling to coils of rope. A composite effect, invoked as “Rhyskaal-Paedryx,” had the corpses dangling from their necks on nearby branches, supported by the rope. One last Transmutation effect converted a couple pieces of firewood to a sign implanted below of the dangling corpses, describing their crime.
Looking over their handiwork, Lillian grimaced. “Well, this was an unpleasant diversion.”
“It is rather unfortunate they didn’t see reason,” Mariana agreed. “I would have been willing to ask Mother to pardon them if they had surrendered. I know…probably a waste of effort, but still.”
The ladies nudged their horses and resumed their journey. They weren’t even out of Tel yet.
* * *
Braden arrived at the gates for the tunnel that led to Qar’Zhosk. Two dracons stood just inside, and they nodded their greeting to Braden as he approached.
“Good day to you,” Braden said. “I bring a message to the Council of Clans from Gavin Cross, Head of House Kirloth and Archmagister of Tel.”
“We bid
thee welcome to Qar’Zhosk,” one of the dracons replied as the other opened the gates.
Soon, Braden approached the massive cupola at the center of the underground city and was pleased to see the Council of Clans was meeting. They all turned to face him as he stepped between the cupola’s columns. Xask nodded once in greeting.
“Welcome back to Qar’Zhosk, Young Wygoth,” Xask said. “What brings you to our city?”
“I bear a message to the dracons from Gavin Cross, Head of House Kirloth and Archmagister of Tel,” Braden answered. “He invites you to send a representative to Tel Mivar to attend the first alliance council in over six hundred years.”
Various councilors nodded, as Xask asked, “And would he be receptive to an emissary as well?”
Braden blinked. “An emissary? Forgive me, but may I ask for clarification?”
“An ambassador,” Xask replied. “The Grand Moot voted to rescind our withdrawal from the world.”
“Uhm, I’m pretty sure that’s bigger news than Gavin calling an alliance council,” Braden remarked, his eyes wide. “I, for one, would love to see the dracons out among us again, and I feel very safe in saying Gavin and my friends think likewise. Yes, I’m confident Gavin would welcome your ambassador in Tel Mivar.”
Xask nodded. “Thank you. We are sending a mission to Vushaar, the giants, and the dwarves as well.”
“Not the elves?” Braden asked, before he realized that might be overstepping.
“Not at this time, Young Wygoth,” the ancient councilor answered. “We have heard whispers from the High Forest that concern us.”
“Forgive me for being new to diplomacy,” Braden replied, “but may I ask what those whispers are?”
“Several factions within the elven nobility are agitating for attacks on the Kingdom of Tel, and other whispers suggest Nature’s Protector is behind it.”
Braden took a deep breath and released it as a heavy sigh. That was troubling. Nature’s Protector was the title the elves gave the head of their government. Not quite a monarch but not quite an elected official, each new holder of the office was traditionally chosen through agreements between the Sylvan Synod and the elven nobility.
“Thank you for sharing that,” Braden said. “In regard to the alliance council, I’m afraid Gavin didn’t specify a precise schedule. With your permission, I’ll return once I’ve learned more.”
The ancient councilor nodded. “Of course, Young Wygoth. You and your associates are always welcome within our lands.”
“Thank you for seeing me,” Braden replied, bowing and leaving the cupola. Now, all that remained was scheduling the meeting. Focusing on Tel Mivar, Braden created a gateway and went in search of Gavin.
Chapter 23
Gavin regarded the journal he was holding and considered returning to it. It was one of Marcus’s, dated shortly before the Godswar began. He’d already read the journal that contained Marcus’s accounts of finding his wife and daughter murdered, and the description of what he had done to the Temple Guardsmen responsible chilled Gavin to his very soul.
“Milord,” Hartley’s voice pulled Gavin’s attention away from the journal, “you have a visitor. It’s Young Wygoth.”
Gavin smiled. “Thank you, Hartley. Please, show him in.”
Moments later, Braden strode into the library and froze, taking in the sight before him. The Citadel’s library was easily half the size of the College’s library, at least. Catwalks connected the upper levels of the bookshelves, and rolling ladders waited on each platform.
“I know,” Gavin said. “I felt rather gobsmacked, myself, when I saw it the first time.”
“Is there a catalog?” Braden asked. “Do you know what all is in here?”
Gavin gestured toward a small reading table with a couple stacks of books and shrugged. “Those tomes serve as the catalog and index of the library, and someone spelled them at some point. When I put Marcus’s journals on those shelves other there, entries for them appeared, even though they were referenced as ‘Journals—Amdar of House Kirloth.’ It surprised me until I remembered that was his name. I never think of him as anyone other than Marcus.”
“I know,” Braden agreed. “Othron referred to him as Amdar, and it took me a moment to catch up.”
Gavin smiled. “That is an excellent segue. Do please sit and be comfortable. How did fare on your travels?”
They both eased into plush armchairs in the reading area of the library as Braden said, “Terris appointed Roth to serve as Vushaar’s representative. Othron agreed to come, and the dracons apparently had another Grand Moot that revoked their decision to withdraw from the world. They have asked to send a formal ambassador to Tel.”
“I wondered if they would call another Grand Moot after seeing me as the Archmagister,” Gavin remarked. “Of course, I welcome their ambassador. I’m planning to restructure the old palace complex to serve as a kind of Embassy Row, and I’ll make provisions for every government sending ambassadors. Hmmm…I wonder how many there are.”
Braden held up his hand and lifted fingers as he said, “Vushaar, Xartham’s lands, the High Forest, the dracons, the giants, the dwarves, the minotaurs, the halflings—that’s eight right there, and I have absolutely no idea what kind of governments exist beyond the Godswall Mountains.”
Gavin sighed. “Perhaps, we should find out. It’s been six thousand years; I’d like to think Hope’s Pass won’t go to waste.”
“You’ll have to do something about Skullkeep, first,” Braden countered. “There’s no way you’re getting a diplomatic mission through Hope’s Pass until the old alliance controls that fortress again.”
“And I have this feeling that there won’t be any way to secure that fortress as long as the Necromancer lives, if you can call whatever the Necromancer is as living. He’s…what…three hundred years old?”
Braden shrugged. “No one really knows. He announced himself when he took over the fortress…oh, almost four hundred years ago now. The elves swear he isn’t an elf, but then, can you blame them? Given everything he’s done, I’m not really fond of him being human, either.”
“Do we know for certain it’s the same guy? I mean, it could be a title, passed from person to person.”
“I suppose that could be the case, but that would make these people scary powerful. Everyone says there’s no way to control that many undead, and yet, he’s doing it. If it is a title passed from person to person, each person in the chain has to have your level of power or higher. I mean, do you think you could control an army of undead?”
“I’ve never really thought to try,” Gavin replied. “It isn’t the kind of thing I’ve felt the need to experiment with.”
Braden nodded. “I don’t blame you at all. Before you accepted us as your apprentices, I wasn’t looking forward to the one section of Necromancy the College requires everyone to take.”
“What? The College requires a section on Necromancy?”
“From what I remember, it’s more of a survey course that touches on all the branches of Interation,” Braden replied. “The other Schools of Magic are rather straightforward, but I guess the Council feels all the disciplines that make up the School of Interation—like Necromancy, Mysticism, and such—warrant a course.”
Gavin chuckled. “I didn’t exactly follow the ‘normal’ course of study, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about classes I’ve never heard of.”
Braden nodded. “If I may, when were you thinking of holding the alliance meeting? Everyone asked, and I didn’t have an answer. Were you planning to wait for Mariana and Lillian to return?”
“No, I don’t think we can afford the time,” Gavin answered. He leaned his head back against the armchair and heaved a sigh before returning his attention to Braden. “There is simply so much to do; sometimes, it boggles the mind.”
“In your defense, you are trying to fix almost six hundred years of mismanagement and corruption…in addition to rebuilding our relationships with everyone els
e. No part of any of that could be called ‘easy.’”
“You’re right. It isn’t easy, and I keep having to hold myself back from wanting everything to happen right now. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.”
Braden blinked. “Uh, what? I’ve never heard of Rome, Gavin.”
Gavin opened his mouth to explain, but the gray mists on the fringes of his consciousness swirled deeper. He closed his mouth and his eyes, fighting the urge to growl in frustration. After a couple heartbeats, he opened his eyes and said, “It must be something out of my missing memories, Braden. Sorry. Ever since Iosen Sivas, those fragments have become more common.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Braden replied. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to deal with something like that.”
“Heh…it’s just the way things are, after this long,” Gavin replied, adding a shrug. “I can’t change it, so why get worked up about it? As far as the meeting, I don’t have a concrete calendar of appointments yet, so I’m willing to operate on their schedules. Do you mind handling the organization of it and keeping me apprised?”
Braden shook his head. “I don’t mind at all.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s all I have,” Braden remarked as he stood. “Do you need anything else, Gavin?”
Gavin shook his head, standing as well. “No, and thank you, Braden. I appreciate your help.”
“You’re welcome. I’m going to check on Wynn as long as I’m here, and then, I’ll make the rounds again and let you know once we have a schedule.”
Gavin nodded once, and Braden left.
After watching his friend leave, Gavin returned to his seat. It was so easy to feel overwhelmed. In a lot of ways, Gavin felt like he was making up ‘being Archmagister’ as he went along, and while he didn’t exactly like that, he didn’t know what other option he had. It wasn’t like he could turn to his predecessor for an orientation.
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