Mageborn: Book 04 - The God-Stone War

by Michael G. Manning

  “Where is he now?” asked Roland.

  I had found him already with my magesight, but Marissa answered readily, “He’s still in his bed. I’ve called for the undertaker, but he hasn’t arrived to take him away yet. Would you like to see him?”

  Roland politely declined, but after a minute or two I was unable to help myself, and I spoke up, “I think I’d like to see him, if that’s alright.”

  “Of course it is,” said Marissa, with wet eyes, “You were as much a brother to him as Roland.”

  I glanced at Roland, and he nodded as well, “I’ll wait here, go ahead,” he told me.

  Entering the bedroom, the first thing I noticed was his color, his skin was unusually pale, almost grey. The muscles in his face had gone slack and he looked gaunt. I gazed on him for only a minute before I looked away. Instead I began taking in the details of his bedroom, not in a desire to pry, but curious about his recent life. Aside from a few books, and a lot of hastily written notes, there was little to see. On his writing desk I found a heavy leather-bound journal entitled, ‘On the Nature of Faith and Magic’. I knew immediately it must contain the primary focus of his scholarly work on magic over the past few years, but reading his papers would be a task for another day.

  A chair on one side of the room bore his long coat. He had probably needed it in the evenings, for as I had discovered the night before, the desert could be quite cold at night. I set my hand on it, feeling the texture of the wool, and then I picked it up. Alone and unobserved, I sank into the chair and buried my face in the heavy garment. It smelled familiar and at long last my emotions broke free.

  I wept like a child, drawing air in suddenly and releasing it with great, wracking sobs. Self-consciously, I tried to keep from making any sound as I cried, but my attempts only made it worse. My awareness of the world around me had shrunk, and I had become a solitary ball of misery, until I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Roland had entered unnoticed, along with Marissa. The two of them had their arms around me, and I found myself surrounded by them in an awkward three way embrace. It was the only comfort any of us found that day.

  ***

  The rest of the week passed in a whirlwind. After eventually putting myself back together, I created a circle to Albamarl. Informing James of his eldest son’s death was one of the hardest things I could remember having to do.

  Marcus was buried in Agraden the same day that Roland and I had arrived, but James held a memorial service for him a week later. It was a private affair, attended primarily by the Lancaster family and those of us in Cameron who were close to Marc. I was asked to speak, and I did, but to this day I still can’t recall a thing I said.

  My second biggest shock came a day after, when Dorian and I had our first chance to talk alone. He had seemed tense ever since receiving the news, but I had attributed this primarily to grief; and not just grief over Marc. He had also lost over half of his knights only a few days prior to our friend’s death. All of them had been men he had worked closely with for years. If anyone had reason for mourning, it was Dorian.

  “It just doesn’t seem possible,” I told him, hoping to draw him out. He had been very reticent of late.

  “Yeah,” said Dorian, his face could have been made of stone.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just the two of us,” I reminded him, “You don’t have to try and imitate Cyhan.”

  His eye twitched for a moment. “Alright, I’ll spit it out then,” he replied, brushing my hand away from his shoulder. His body radiated tension and he seemed angry.

  “What?”

  “You weren’t thinking clearly, and I’ll forgive you down the road, but what you did was wrong,” said Dorian in a voice that shook with barely suppressed emotion.

  I stared at him in shock. What the hell did I do to him? I couldn’t remember the last time I had truly upset Dorian. It wasn’t something I expected.

  “When you got word that he was dying, you left without telling me a damn thing. You found Roland, but I didn’t merit telling. I had to find out after you had already gone,” he bit out.

  I held out my hands. “I was in a rush Dorian. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I know that!” he shouted suddenly. “I found out second hand. You never considered that I might want to be there too.”

  “We didn’t make it in time anyway. It wouldn’t have done any good for you…,” I began.

  “That’s not the point, damnitt!” he interrupted me. “You should have told me. You should have given me a choice. You never even considered my feelings. Did you think you were the only one that cared about him? He was my friend too!” Dorian’s face was flushed and his cheeks were wet with tears.

  That was when it finally sank in. Of course my untested magical flyer was too small for three people, but what my friend had said was essentially true. I had never considered him, not at all. I had gotten the news and left without a word to anyone but Penny.

  “And then, you tell me after, that he knew he was dying… before he even moved! You kept that a secret from me as well! What the fuck Mort!? Do you think I’m so unimportant I don’t deserve your trust?” he yelled, putting emphasis on each word.

  I trust you as much as anyone alive, I thought quietly. “He told me to keep it a secret, Dorian. That wasn’t my choice.”

  “He was an asshole too! Both of you!” The tears were streaming down his face now.

  I hugged him. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  Even angry, he hugged me back, though for a moment I thought he might break my back, and then he shoved me away. “I’ll get over this, but I’d rather not see you for a few days.”

  Chapter 36

  The ensuing months were placid and calm; a boring counterpoint to the terror of the gods’ attack on Castle Cameron. Marc’s death was followed, not with more challenges and obstacles, but with a lack of them, which only increased my anxiety and heightened my depression.

  Losing my closest friend had deeply affected my mood, largely in ways that weren’t immediately obvious. After the intense grief of the first few weeks, I put it out of my mind as I attempted to focus on living and carrying on with life. The work on the World Road proceeded at an admirable pace, and after nearly a year the day had finally arrived when we would open the gates and connect the far flung corners of Lothion to one another.

  I should have been happy, and I tried to appear so, as best I could, but my inner heart felt dead and cold. Penny had noticed my depression of course, despite my best efforts to act normally. She questioned me about it, and while I was honest about my grief initially, once the first month had passed, I began to excuse myself by citing anxiety over the whereabouts of the remaining two shining gods… and Mal’goroth. Let’s not forget Mal’goroth.

  In truth, I had plenty of reasons to be anxious. The shiggreth had completely disappeared, though I felt certain they were not eradicated. The Knights of Stone had been decimated, and after the attack we had been left with only seven remaining. Dorian had done his best to find suitable replacements, but he was picky in his choices, and I fully supported him in that. I’d rather have been short-handed than give power to men I didn’t trust.

  Dorian seemed to have gotten over his anger with me, but I still felt a faint coolness from him on occasion, and I knew it would take some time to completely heal the wound I had created in our friendship. We were both content at present to just get through each day and manage the tasks at hand. He had enough on his plate with the recent birth of his second child, little Carissa Thornbear.

  In some ways it felt as though we were living under an executioner’s axe, constantly waiting for it to drop on our necks. Even so, I knew deep down that my illness wasn’t truly because of that. Marc was dead. While few realized how close we had been, to me he had been my closest family. Now the one person who knew me best was gone, and along with him went all the memories he alone had possessed.

  Each of us has our own self-image, but what few realize, is that every p
erson around us also possesses an image of us, no less real than our own. Every person close to us has a version of us in their hearts that no one else can replicate or replace. With Marc’s death, I had lost not only my dearest friend, but the image of myself that he had shown me in his own life.

  Or you could simply be an over-sentimental, over-analytical fool, who merely makes things worse by constantly philosophizing and romanticizing everything to infinity! Life goes on, and so would you if you didn’t spend so much time gnawing at problems you can’t fix. Move on! The words came to me with Marc’s voice, as they often did these days. It said the things he would likely have told me, things that might have helped if he had been alive. Instead the memory of his voice brought tears to my eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?” asked Moira.

  We were standing on a balcony overlooking the central yard within the keep that protected the World Road. The large gates on either side of the massive open area were open wide and crowds of people stood below, looking up at us. Two more gates within the yard were still closed, the ones that led down to the circular underground highway. King James was positioned in the center of the balcony, addressing the crowd. Penny and I were behind him, with Matthew and Moira on either side of us.

  “It’s nothing, sweetheart,” I told her, “Daddy’s just happy.”

  Penny glanced over at my words, and her eyes appraised me as I wiped away the tears. She knew better than to believe me. I have never been prone to crying when happy, and she was well aware of my depression, despite my claims otherwise. She stayed silent though, for every eye was directed toward us.

  The King finished his speech and looked toward me, “Without further delay I present to you, Mordecai Illeniel, the Count di’Cameron, and our nation’s most ardent defender… the man responsible for the conception and creation of this marvelous edifice!”

  Stepping forward I stood beside him and placed my hands on the stone rail. “People of Lothion,” I said, raising my voice, “long have I waited for this day, and at times I feared it would never come! Today we will open the gates and usher in a new era of prosperity. No longer will our traders and merchants need to devote weeks and months to long trips to carry goods from one end of this country to the other. No longer will farmers be forced to trek for days to reach the best markets. This dream, now a reality, will unite people from across our nation in a bond that transcends the distances which once kept us separate. It will transport goods from our ports and bring timbers from our forested lands. In essence it will form a vast artery connecting and transforming our land and our people with a new spirit of unity and optimism.”

  Taking a breath I paused to look across the crowd, and the look of wonder on their faces almost overwhelmed my reason. Stick to what you prepared, I reminded myself, and so I opened my mouth to continue, “It is my hope that someday this road will connect not just the people of our fair country, but the people of every country. There are many places along this road yet unoccupied, places which, if our resolve is strong and our intentions are good, will someday be occupied with gates leading to every nation in this world. The fullest realization of my dream will be when the rest of the world, looking upon our strength and unity, accepts this offer and joins hands with us.”

  At that point I stopped and waited upon James, who stepped forward again. “What do you think of the Count di Cameron’s dream?” he shouted to the crowd. Their response was a deafening roar, one that was nearly impossible to decipher until it began to resolve into a rhythmic chant, ‘Open the gates!’ they cried. James listened for a moment before speaking directly to me, “The people have spoken, Lord Cameron. Open the gates!”

  Reaching into my robe, I withdrew the control rod, a device which was a twin of the rod installed at the center of the Traveler’s Pinnacle. The enchantment upon it ensured that whatever actions were taken upon this rod would be replicated upon the original, which actually controlled the gate enchantments themselves. The rod itself was steel, inset with a variety of multihued metal rings that encircled it from top to bottom. Each ring could be twisted from one position to another, which would then cause some action to take place. Many of the rings were set to control the activation of one of the portals, while others were set to open or close one of the many gates that guarded the World Road.

  Twisting six rings in quick succession, I activated the portals that led to Verningham, Cantley, Turlington, Malvern, Lancaster, and Arundel. As I did, I felt a massive surge of power, the God-Stone, hidden and protected deep beneath the center of the fortress came to life, pouring aythar into the magical conduits that fed the portal and gate enchantments. There was no audible or visible sign of this, but my arcane senses were very aware of the vast movements of magic beneath us. Once the portals were activated, I turned two more rings, and the gates that would allow people to enter the roads leading down to the great circular World Road itself, opened.

  The crowd grew silent for a moment as the massive iron doors opened, and then a cheer went up. The World Road was open, and people from all parts of the nation would soon be traversing it. At each of the six towns, smaller matching keeps protected the other ends of the portals, and the gates there were already open, waiting. Today would be a day that none would forget.

  We withdrew from the balcony after that, though my work wasn’t done. As momentous as the occasion was, it naturally had to be commemorated with a massive feast. Penny watched me carefully from the sides of her eyes as we went. “Are you alright, Mort?” she asked during a moment when there were no other ears close by.

  “Yes, of course,” I said promptly, giving my voice a lighter tone than I truly felt. “Why?”

  She shook her head, “No reason, you just seem as though you have a shadow hovering over you.”

  As usual she had seen through my facade. “I’m just a bit pensive, worried about the future of the World Road. Nothing for you to be too concerned about,” I replied, hoping to redirect her train of thought.

  “If you say so,” she said, but her tone implied she knew better.

  ***

  The trees towering over me were massive, larger than anything I had seen before, but for some reason they seemed natural, and I hardly took note of them. Glancing down, I saw another hand in my own, a slender graceful hand, connected to an equally lovely arm. Following the arm to its conclusion, I realized I was walking beside perhaps one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.

  “Lyralliantha,” I said softly, as her name sprang to my lips unbidden. Why did I say that? I wondered idly; normally I called her by her nickname, ‘Lyra’.

  “Yes love?” she replied easily.

  “Do you think the council will accept our proposal?” I asked.

  She frowned, “I do not know. It is still hard for me to accept, and I am in love with you. They will have a difficult time adapting to the notion that your kind are not simple animals, but once they see what you have created, they cannot do otherwise.”

  “It still isn’t true spell-weaving,” I told her again.

  She nodded, “No, it isn’t, but it is something new, something never seen before, and it is akin to spell-weaving, in a way.”

  A thought crossed my mind and I looked around anxiously, “You don’t suppose they can hear us?” I said, indicating the mother-trees on either side of our path.

  Lyra laughed, “They are sleeping. They hear nothing unless we awaken them. Do not fear.” She leaned closer, and her lips met mine for a pleasant moment. “Perhaps that will distract you,” she said, with a twinkle in her eyes.

  I kissed her again, and my mind drifted away, the scene fading. When my eyes opened again it was to a different scene. People were screaming, dying, as open wounds appeared spontaneously on their skin. Some writhed on the ground, clawing at themselves even as they bled and died. My magesight showed me the cause of their affliction, but I was powerless to stop it, if I lowered my shields for a moment it would kill me too.

  “Save us!” a woman cried,
clawing at the shield of power I had extended around myself, but I looked away. I could not meet her terrible, dying eyes. Inside I knew the truth, this was your fault! You caused this, my inner voice accused.

  Death was everywhere, a tangible thing, and I could smell it, taste it. Worse, I could hear it… a terrible dissonance that played in direct counterpoint to the harmony of the living world. I shut my eyes and clapped my hands to my ears, wishing I could shut out the sensation of it, but this was one voice I could not block out.

  Screaming I sat up in bed, clutching my head to shut out the terrible sound of it. Penny was beside me, her arms around me. “Mort, wake up!” it’s just a dream.

  Desperate, I clutched her to me, burying my head in her neck hoping the sweet scent of her hair would drive away the vivid images that still floated before my eyes. She stroked my head, repeating soft, soothing words while I gradually began to calm down. Slowly I came to realize it had just been a dream, a horrible, terrifying and all too real dream.

  No it wasn’t, said a voice in the back of my mind. It happened, and if you aren’t careful, it will happen again. The truth of it sank into me and I began to weep, softly at first, and then more loudly, as if I were a child again. Through it all, I heard the dissonant song of death… just as I had in the dream… only now I was awake.

  “Is it Marc?” asked Penny gently, “Did you dream of him?”

  “No,” I said finally, my voice hoarse and thick. “It was the memories again.” I had explained my strange memories to her before, after the visit with Marcus, when he had given me the tablet, but I still didn’t understand them very well. Every time I began to examine them deliberately, fear seemed to clutch at my heart until I closed the door and shut the memories away again.

  “You’re having dreams about them now?” she said, concern on her face.

  I nodded. And I hear the voice of death now, I added mentally.