Eligium- The Complete Series

by Jake Allen Coleman

  #

  Sebastian’s eyes popped open to see a canvas cover a few feet above his head. He was lying on a pallet atop a wooden platform that swayed and bumped. For a moment he lay confused. The last thing he remembered was standing in the dwarven council chamber reveling in victory. Then came the pain. It was a memory now, but his head ached at the thought of that splitting agony. It had felt like a wedge of fire had pierced his skull right in the center of his forehead. He did not understand where he was now or how he had gotten there.

  Refusing to sit up, he looked around his little world. Short wood walls connected to the canvas roof an arm’s length from him on each side. It was tied shut at his feet, but when he looked at the other end, he saw a bench at the front of the platform with a dwarf holding a set of reigns. He was in a wagon.

  Looking back, the dwarf locked eyes with him. “Ho there boy! I sees yer awake. That’s good. Your friends will be right glad to know it. You can call me Eberlou.” The dwarf turned back to his driving and let out a shrill whistle, waving to someone out in front of the wagon and hauling back on the reigns to stop the wagon.

  Not two minutes later, the ties on the back of the cover came undone, and the sides parted. It was Krystelle, looking much less haunted. Still tired, and more than a little worried, but without the depth of concern he’d seen in the cell. “Welcome back! You seem to make quite a habit of getting knocked unconscious.”

  He pulled himself up to a half-seated position as she scrambled into the bed of the wagon beside him. As soon as she was settled, Eberlou flicked the reigns to get the team pulling again. He ran a hand through his hair, “I guess it worked?”

  She smiled, “It worked. I do not know what you did, but right after you collapsed Finnguala transformed. She described it as a fog lifting from in front of her eyes and she could see clearly for the first time in months. The same for Wulfsige and the other two council members. Sebastian, that was six days ago. So much has happened since then.”

  “Tell me everything. But first, what of Martino? Is he ok?”

  Pursing her lips, Krystelle shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Whatever you did in the chamber did not carry over to your friend. It left him half crazed, prone to violence and incoherent raving. We left him at Hallvard in chains and under heavy guard.”

  Sebastian wished he could do something to help his friend, but knew Martino was beyond his ability to aid. “You need to catch me up on the last six days.”

  Krystelle nodded, “Once the spell on the council lifted, Finnguala and the others called a council of war. I related what you had told me about the black cords and we realized you must have broken that connection. Their heads clear, the dwarves concluded that Sterling Lex was at the root of it all. The dwarves retracted their demand for the Dragonstone's return and invoked article five of the Treaty of Ha'vehl'on. The dwarves go to war on behalf of Gabirel. The next day after we came before the council the entire dwarven army marched for Cinaeth to join with Gabirel and stand against Sterling Lex. It is amazing to see the dwarves at march. They do not ride at all, except for a few supply wagons. They can set a forced march at the same pace as a mounted army and travel half again as far in a day since they don’t have to rest the stock.”

  “Krystelle, I don't know what article five is, but whatever it is, I’m glad for it if it has the dwarves on our side. I’m not sure they will make a difference though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sebastian shifted around to make himself more comfortable in the bouncing wagon as he arranged his thoughts. “I don’t understand everything that happened at Hallvard yet and I wish Darden or Valeria were here to talk this through, but whatever weapon Sterling Lex is using to influence people, I don’t believe we can defeat it.”

  “Of course we can, you showed that in Hallvard when you freed Finnguala of its influence.”

  “No, we can’t. You don’t understand. I couldn’t beat it. I thought I could, but I couldn’t. I don’t have the words to describe it, but I tapped into some kind of dwarvish magic there in the council chambers. It protected me while I fought the corruption. If it hadn’t, Sterling Lex’s counter would have defeated me. As it was, the effects hit me after the fact and that’s what knocked me out. I could not have done it on my own.”

  “Sebastian, I do not claim to understand magic and its forms. What I know is this; every time we have come up against Sterling Lex, we have won. And we will again. We have to.”

  “In spite of everything that’s happened I know that you’re right. We’ve all but lost Cenric. Sterling Lex claimed the power of the Arch-mage. Uriasz is destroyed and now the King has gone over to him. In spite of all that, I know we can defeat him. I WILL find a way.”

  “You are taking a lot on yourself are you not?” He looked at her in surprise. “You are not alone in this fight. Gabirel is with you. The entire dwarven army is with you. The wizards Darden and Valeria are with you. I am with you too, Sebastian. We have to believe and to hold on to hope. I believe in you Sebastian, but I need you to remember you are not alone in this fight.”

  “I will try.”

  “Dammit Sebastian! I need you to do more than try. You no longer get the luxury of being that farm boy I met by the side of a river in Taleros, wide-eyed at the world and naive about the workings of the world. You are something more, even if you do not always see it. You found the Moonstone in Ha’vehl’on and you recovered the Dragonstone in Uriasz even though it meant doing harm to someone you called friend. You are the one who freed the entire dwarven people from slavery under Sterling Lex’s thumb. You did all that.”

  “You put it like that…it’s a lot. I have to believe that in somehow the good outweighs the bad. My aunt and uncle…and Beatrice, poor little Bea. Quiren Adelwolf. Killed because I got involved. Even the people in Cuillen that are dead because I wasn’t strong enough or quick enough to fight the right way. I have to be better, stronger, faster. I must get control of these powers.”

  “I do not know what to tell you Sebastian. We all have our demons. We all have a choice to make. And it IS a choice. Are you going to stand up, put your finger in the dike and hold back the flood or are you going to let your doubts wash over you and carry you away? Only you can answer that. You need to rest and prepare for what is coming. We will reach the army outside Cinaeth in seven days time. I have no doubt you will be ready.”

  She scrambled out of the wagon, dropped to the ground and disappeared from sight; leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts.

  The days that followed crept past as the dwarven army made its way south to the muster with Gabirel. His doctors instructed him to rest in the wagon and gather his strength, that he was weaker than he realized. On the second day after awakening, he insisted upon riding. That lasted less than an hour before he was back in the wagon, exhausted with a headache that felt like someone took a blacksmith’s hammer to his forehead. His only escape from the wagon came at the evening encampment where he got to know the men that had accompanied Krystelle to Hallvard. Krystelle herself was nowhere in sight.

  Five days later he tried riding again. His legs wobbled for a moment as he mounted his horse and he feared tumbling to the ground. Resolved to stay out of the wagon, he steadied himself. Joining Zefran and Bartok in the line of march, he let the sunlight warm his face despite the chill morning air.

  They road in silence for the better part of the morning and his thoughts drifted back to Krystelle. Before the sun was halfway to its midpoint, wondering about her absence grew to intolerable levels. He was bursting to ask where she was. It became too much to bear. “Zefran…where is Krystelle? Why does she never join us in the evening or on the march?” he blurted out at last.

  The bearded warrior grinned at Sebastian, “Been wondering how long it would take you to ask that. You’ve got your sights set high there boy.”

  Flustered, Sebastian shook his head, “I don’t know what you mean. It just seemed strange she hasn’t stopped by to see me…all of us.”
/>
  Zefran grinned even wider if that were possible. “As you say, Sebastian, as you say. She’ll not be stopping by our fire any time soon. She’s gone three days now.”

  Sebastian blinked at the news, “Gone! Where did she go?”

  “Well as soon as the decision was made to march, the dwarven general, Uisdean, sent out messengers. Sent them to find Gabirel and let ‘em know we was coming. He’s a cunning one that Uisdean I tell you. Anyways, he sent them messengers and darned if they didn’t come back the day you woke. As might be expected, Lord Commander Teoma was more than a bit suspicious that the dwarves were back on his side so he demanded to hear it from Krystelle her own self.”

  “So she rode ahead to meet up with the army?”

  “Aye lad, that she did. Tried to get her to take us with her, but she wanted to ride fast. Said we’d just slow her. Probably right.”

  “She went off alone without an escort! What if she’s attacked or robbed on the road?”

  Zefran let out a deep belly laugh and leaned over to punch Bartok, who was riding next to him, on the shoulder. “J’ya hear that? Young’un here’s afraid Krystelle Mora might not be able to handle herself.”

  Bartok stretched and let out a yawn. Chuckling he shook his head, “I thought Krystelle said you traveled with her? Don’t you know she is one of the best Swordmasters Gabirel has ever had?”

  Sebastian shook his head, taking in what Bartok was telling him. He had seen her fight, but never realized just how good she was. These men obviously held her fighting skills in high regard.

  “You think on that boy, the next time you see Krystelle Mora,” said Zefran as three of them reached the top of the next hill. He looked across the line of march “And if I don’t mistake things, that time will be soon. We’ve reached the army.”

  Looking out over the valley, Sebastian saw Zefran was right. The familiar sight of the Gabirelian encampment stretched out before him. Arranged in concentric circles, the camp was laid out with the command tent in the center, along with the supply and mess wagons. To one side were the distinctive individual tents of the swordmasters, ordered but not military. On the other the strict discipline of the squadrons of squires with a small training ground in the center of their zone. Even on the march the squires continued training and drilling.

  Farther afield were the infantry, archers, and cavalry; the core strength of the army should things come to open conflict. The army had grown in size since Sebastian left. No doubt the call had gone out to units deployed away from the Dazhberg. A line of wood spikes surrounded by a shallow ditch surrounded the army. For the first time since waking, Sebastian wondered what reception he would find. He was, after all, technically a deserter.

  Quartermaster Mikula met the leaders of the dwarven army and issued orders for their disposition. Although a tradesman, Mikula was one of the few in the army with the authority to order generals. That ability was not just a result of his position. Sebastian had met the man just once and would sooner cross Jarmo Dale or Lord Commander Teoma. Mikula had an iron will beneath the steel gray hair plastered to his head.

  Swept along with the dwarves, Sebastian and his companions lost themselves in the dust and confusion as the Quartermaster settled the dwarven army just outside the camp. Perhaps their status as allies was still in question.

  Not sure if he should report to Jarmo Dale or stay with the dwarves, Sebastian dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a groom when a familiar voice called out from the din, “Ho there!” He turned to find Krystelle Mora emerging from the organized chaos of dwarves setting up their camp.

  “It is good to see you three,” she said with a smile on her face that extended to the sparkle in her eyes. “I have much to tell you. For now, though, I must steal Sebastian away. The council is meeting with the dwarven general and Mistress Valeria says you should be there. Follow me…and hurry!”

  She spun off into the crowd, Sebastian close on her heels. Watching her move, Sebastian remembered what Bartok and Zefran had told him. There had always been a grace in her movements, but that grace took on a more deadly overtone as he watched her maneuver her way through the camp. Not once did she have to pause as someone crossed her path. Her movements were sure and steady while Sebastian moved in fits and starts. He dodged around a trio of dwarves arguing over their tent stakes and then pulled up short while a cart passed in front of him. Krystelle Mora outpaced him by a good measure and he jogged to catch up. She gave him a wry look as they passed through a gap in the camp’s defenses and made a beeline for the command tent.

  Arriving, Sebastian paused for a moment and held up a finger to Krystelle Mora as he breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath. She was not winded in the slightest. Rolling her eyes, she gestured for him to follow her inside. He found the entire council there surrounding a makeshift table. There was a map on the table with figures he supposed represented Gabirel and the King’s forces. Mistress Valeria was the only one present who noticed the two of them. Sebastian thought she gave the slightest smile upon seeing Krystelle and he enter.

  A dwarf that had to be General Uisdean was speaking. The general wore a leather jerkin over ring mail armour and had the longest, grayest beard Sebastian had ever seen. A long scar stretched up the left side of his face, ending where his ear had once been. Behind him stood Captain Wulfsige, his split beard dangling with those iron beads.

  “If ye expect the dwarves to fight this battle with you, then you’ll hand over the Eligium Muliach,” Gravel had nothing on Uisdean’s voice. It was like the rumbling of a landslide in a thunderstorm when he spoke. “By rights and treaty it is ours.”

  “No one disputes that…” began Lord Commander Teoma.

  “If there is no dispute then why do ye not concede the point and hand over the stone?”

  Teoma leaned in toward Uisdean, “As I’ve said, we do not yet know if this will come to open battle. When, and if it does, we will consider the best disposition of our assets, including all the Eligium.”

  Uisdean pounded his fist on the table, causing the figurines to rattle out of place. “You will consider. YOU. What of the dwarves? Have we no say?”

  Lord Damianus raised his hands, “Of course you will have a say in any council of war, but when it comes to the stones, we must defer to the wisdom of the wizards.”

  “Well then, what say the wizards?” the dwarf turned toward Darden and Valeria.

  It was Mistress Valeria who spoke, her voice ringing in contrast to the deep rumbling of the dwarf. “I beg your patience and indulgence General Uisdean. We do not yet know how deeply Sterling Lex has infiltrated himself into the King’s council. It may yet be that we can overcome his magic. But you yourself must see the growing darkness that threatens the land. Were it not for Sebastian, the dwarves themselves would still be under the thrall of the dark wizard. How much worse must it be for the King, in such proximity to Sterling Lex? If that were not enough, we see a shadow stretching out across the people of the land causing madness and violence. Can you fight that? Has new magic come to the dwarves when we were not looking? Will you trust Uriasz in this?”

  Uisdean stared at the wizard for a long moment, considering her words. Every eye in the room was on him, waiting with baited breath. Sebastian felt the tension thicken in the room and he clenched his own fists. Holding his breath, he wondered what would happen if the dwarven general did not agree. This alliance could dissolve before it even began and give Sterling Lex yet another victory. At last Uisdean nodded, and tension drained from the room like water.

  Leaving the command tent after several hours of debate around strategy and battle planning he barely followed, Sebastian found himself not sure what to do next. Krystelle Mora slipped out during the long afternoon and no one else seemed to care what he did. Looking around the bustle of the camp, he breathed a deep sigh and decided it was time to pay the piper. Setting his shoulders back, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other toward the squire’s campsite.

 
; He had not gotten four steps when Zefran grabbed his arm. “You’ll not be wanting to go that way lad. Rumor says Jarmo Dale has it in for you. Why don’t you spend at least one more night with me ‘n Bartok and we’ll figure out what to do about rejoining your squad on the morrow? Besides, we’ve already stowed your gear.”

  It was the best idea Sebastian heard all day.

  #

  After settling in with Bartok and Zefran, Sebastian scurried over to the mess to draw rations for the three of them before the squires joined the queue. Balancing three steaming hot bowls of stew he returned to the campsite to find the men had kindled a small fire and several others had joined them around the fire. Without a word, he passed the stew to Bartok and Zefran and found a spot near the fire and, he hoped, out of everyone’s way.

  Slurping his dinner, Sebastian pondered his next steps. Returning to his squadron and Jarmo Dale’s discipline for desertion did not sound particularly appealing. He had gone to Hallvard, rescued Krystelle Mora and brought the dwarves to the side of Gabirel. Yet it seemed no one cared. He could just disappear. Maybe he would do just that. Disappear. It had not been hard the first time. Tonight would be his chance to slip out and be on his way. No one would be the wiser. He’d not asked to be part of this nor ever wanted this magical curse. No. That kind of thinking belonged to the old Sebastian. He belonged here, for better or worse, and he would see this through. He had made his decision to rescue Krystelle and would pay whatever price Jarmo Dale required.

  That decision made, he inched closer to the fire to join in the conversation when Mistress Valeria emerged from the shadows and interrupted his reverie. “Sebastian?” her alto voice rang in the gathering dusk and stopped the soldier's raucous conversation. “May I have a word with you?”

  He stared at the wizard, feeling uncomfortably like a rabbit trapped in a snare. “Of course,” he said at last. She inclined her head to acknowledge the soldiers who had risen to their feet in respect and motioned for Sebastian to follow. He scramble to his feet and made after her, listening to the now subdued conversation of the soldiers behind him.