by K. C. Julius
A shaft of sunlight found its way through the clouds and spilled into the gloomy room. In the sudden brightness, Morgan sensed a ripple in the space separating him from the king, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
The king lay back in his chair, his breathing shallow and his tearing eyes closed against the blinding light. Motes of dust floated in the slanting ray of sun that lit his ravaged face, and Morgan followed their descent while he waited for Urlion to master himself.
Except the tiny particles seemed to be defying the laws of nature. For instead of drifting downward, they belled away from the king, as though repulsed by some invisible barrier.
Mesmerized, Morgan almost missed the faint tendrils of a pale aura, made visible for the space of a breath in the intense glare. So fleetingly did it flicker and die that it could have been nothing more than a trick of the light—but to a wizard’s discerning eye, it was irrefutable evidence of what was really ailing the High King of Drinnglennin. Cold dread surged through Morgan’s veins, and he cursed himself for a fool.
Urlion bolted suddenly upright, seized by a violent fit of coughing that left him so wrung out he had to be helped back to his bed. It was perhaps just as well, for now it was Morgan who needed time to compose himself. He rang for Urlion’s physiker, then took his leave, returning to the Tilted Kilt only long enough to provision himself for the road north to Stonehoven.
For what the wizard had inadvertently glimpsed in that sudden shaft of sunlight made one thing indisputably clear. The High King was not, as Master Audric suspected, suffering from a deteriorating mind. Urlion’s affliction was worse, much worse. Someone had dared to violate the most sacrosanct of laws.
The High King was under a spell of enchantment.
Whoever had cast the spell could be named only one thing: traitor. For such a violation did not come without a cost. Urlion’s strong spirit had fought against it, without his conscious awareness, and it was this that had made him ill for so many years.
How watchful the betrayer must ever be, Morgan thought, as he flew north on his fleet pony, for any sign that the treachery had been uncovered. Concealing it from Morgan himself would have presented the greatest challenge, which explained why he had been kept from the king’s presence as much as possible. And here he had thought that his assuming the role of a reclusive mage, and traveling the Known World at the Tribus’s bidding, was all in the service of his king! Now he understood it was his absence that had been required.
As for the purpose of this treason, it was yet to be discovered. Had the king witnessed something that his betrayer would have him forget? An enchantment such as this was of the darkest magic, and Morgan would have to proceed with the utmost caution as he went in search of its source. In the meantime, he must ensure the safety of the young people in Mithralyn. For now, more than ever, any potential heirs to the High Throne were at risk.
He needed evidence, and he thought he knew where he might begin: with the High King’s former Master of Hounds. The man had traveled with Urlion when he’d made his last progression through the realm, and perhaps knew something of value. Morgan only prayed he hadn’t already made the Leap.
He had to find Vestor Santiman.
Epilogue
“Tell us what you see, Una!”
The eternal fire blazed before the dragons, who were crouched around it on the ever-frozen ground. The surrounding peaks of ice rose black against the towering flames, and windlights illuminated the far horizon with flashes of green and scarlet.
“I do not have our sister’s gift,” protested the dragoness. Still, she studied the fire intently, the light flickering in her jeweled eyes.
Her kin waited patiently in the heavy silence, as was the nature of their kind. Dragons throughout the ages never rushed through any deliberation, nor acted in haste, unless to respond to a direct threat.
When at last the sea-green dragoness stirred, her jade eyes moved with purpose from one dragon to the next.
“Tell us, sister,” hissed Zal. “What lies ahead?” He ruffled his massive black wings, their shadow blocking out the bright stars overhead.
“Only Ilyria can see the future!” growled Isolde, the eldest of them, her silver scales glittering in the firelight. “And she is far from us.”
Una raised her head, her breath steaming in the frigid air. Even after a millennium, she had not grown used to the terrible cold of Belestar.
“There is something stirring,” she said.
Emlyn shot a stream of blue fire at the sky. “Let it stir. The future is ours to shape as we will.”
“Is it the Strigori?” Zal glided closer. “Tell us—what did you see?”
Emlyn rounded on the drake, her tail lashing. “What would you have her see? Men with axes coming to destroy our clutches? Elves wielding their swords and wizards their staffs, sworn to our demise? We know your mind, Zal, and what you would have us do.”
“I would have us preserve ourselves!” Zal hissed. “We will never be safe as long as others inhabit the Known World!”
“We are safe as long as we stay here, or if we choose to bind,” Una countered.
“Safe from domination, yes,” said a voice from the shadows.
An enormous red male slithered forward, his bright scales illuminated in the dancing flames.
“But not from injury and death at the hand of our foes. Or,” he added darkly, “from one another.”
“We are not at war, Aed, with any of those with whom we share the world,” Isolde reminded him. “And only the greatest of betrayals could incite conflict between us.”
“We’re not at war with humans only because they’ve forgotten our existence,” Zal retorted. “I for one am tired of hiding in this frozen wasteland where everything I hunt tastes of fish. I’m no longer willing to deny my nature. I would soar free over all the lands of the Known World, as I once did.”
“The humans won’t have forgotten our existence for long,” said Aed. “Not now, when two of us have sought sanctuary in Mithralyn.”
“The elven realm has remained hidden for centuries,” said Emlyn. “And it was Rhiandra’s intention to bind with one of their kind. Your fears are groundless.” She gazed up at the cold stars. “Still… I share your longing to fly free, brother.”
“This we shall do,” said Una.
The dragons turned as one to look at her. In every heart, an ever-present longing waxed, for their self-imposed exile had been joyless.
The dragoness regarded them gravely. “It’s true the fire’s voice does not speak to me as it does to Ilyria. But I have seen in its heart those among us soaring over broad plains and vast forests.”
Isolde put forward the question in every dragon’s mind. “Who among us?”
The green dragoness curled her great tail close to her body, against the incessant cold. “I could not discern this… but I counted seven.”
“How enlightening,” Gryffyn growled, “since seven of us would claim the Known World for dragonkind alone.”
“Seven to four,” said Zal, his voice heavy with malice.
Emlyn’s emerald eyes blazed. “That is not decided!”
“It has been our sacred charge to serve as guardians of the Known World,” said Isolde. “What you propose, Zal, is against our very nature!”
“I’ve never proposed that we harm the Known World,” Zal retorted. “Only to rid it of humans, so the land can again prosper. The old forests these creatures have hacked down will return, the rivers they have fouled will flow pure and sweet once more, and wild creatures will again flourish and abound. If mankind continues to multiply and wreak havoc with abandon, he will succeed in destroying the Known World, with or without us!”
Aed lent his voice to the blackwing’s arguments. “The dwarves have already been driven out in the face of human ignorance and greed, and the elves have not fared much better
—they too have been forced into hiding. Mankind’s greatest pleasure is war and destruction. Why do you persist in this misguided view that these creatures offer something of value? What good has come to the world in this After Age?”
“I trust in the goodness I have witnessed in my own lifetime,” said Emlyn. “It’s true, humans are not perfect, but they’ve come far in their short time in the world. If you attempt to eradicate them, I will oppose you!”
“As will I,” said Menlo. “But how will we find worthy humans with which to bind anew? If we should return to the world without binding, we open ourselves to the threat of power-seeking wizards and sorceresses.”
“It was Morgan who not long ago wove the magic to keep us safe here,” Isolde said.
“Morgan’s time is past. Now it is the dark star of Lazdac’s that ascends.”
At the mention of the last of the dark wizards, Emlyn hissed.
Ciann spoke his mind at last. “Zal, what you propose is madness. To exterminate all the inhabitants of the world would take years upon years.”
“We have time,” Gryffyn replied softly.
“It’s all we have,” Zal growled.
“Why do you not use this time to seek a new binding?” said Isolde. “It’s been centuries since you lost Drak. In that time, your heart has become hardened against men, where once it honored their noble spirits. This isolation has made you cruel.”
“If this is true,” snarled the drake, “it’s because there is little goodness left in the race. And I don’t see you seeking to bind.”
“Rhiandra and Ilyria have promised to seek a suitable match for me as well,” said Isolde. “When they find one, I shall.”
Zal snorted. “They will not be back, our sisters. They have betrayed us by binding before we were all in agreement.”
“You mean, until we all agreed with you and Gryffyn?” Una hissed. “That day will not come.”
“You shall see,” replied Zal menacingly. “As this wanton waste of the world grows, and grow it will, you shall think again.” He lifted his gaze to the gloom beyond the fire. “Let us ask the one of us who has the most to lose. What say you, Syrene?”
From deep in the shadows, a massive creature glided forward. Her golden scales and topaz eyes blazed brighter than any fire. The other dragons bowed low before her, for she was the mother of the clutch—the precious four, the promise of a future for their kind. After a millennium, there would once again be young dragons among them. Hatchlings to cherish and protect at all costs.
“I say,” proclaimed Syrene, in all her glistering magnificence, “we burn them all!”
Book II:
A Realm at Stake
by K. C. Julius
Dedicated to Janna, Blaire and Waman French
my best-beloved sisters and brother
Character List
The Royal House
Urlion Konigur—High King of Drinnglennin
Storn Konigur—younger brother of Urlion, deceased
Asmara Konigur—cloistered sister of Urlion & Storn
The Tribus (counselors to the High King)
Selka—a sorceress from Langmerdor, present High Elderess
Audric—a wizard, Morgan’s former mentor
Celaidra—an elven princess of Mithralyn, cousin to
the elven King Elvinor
Residents of Drinnkastel
Princess Grindasa—matriarch of the Nelvor clan, widow of Lord Nandor Nelvor
Lord Roth—bastard son of Grindasa
Lady Hadley—cousin of Lord Roth
Lady Maitane—cousin of Lord Roth
Lord Vetch—commander of the Nelvorbothian army
Heulwin—Maura’s maid
Llwella—servant/companion to Princess Asmara
Rab—valet to Leif
Digon—a stable boy at Drinnkastel
Master Tergin—High King Urlion’s physiker
Sir Glinter—Drinnglennin leader of a mercenary company under Latour
Master Greyston—captain of the Balarin
Sir Gilbin—vassal of Morlenstowe, retired from active service, aka Gilly, proprietor of The Tilted Kilt tavern
The Soth’ers
Vestor Santiman—Urlion’s former Master of Hounds
Vera Santiman—Vestor’s wife
Lord Grenville—Earl of Bodiaer
Lady Guin—his wife
Kelton—great-nephew of Lord Grenville and Lady Guin
The Nor’ers
Leif Elvinor—grandson of Avis and the late Pren Landril, son of Lira Landril (deceased) and Elvinor Celvarin
Avis Landril—grandmother of Leif
Morgan—reclusive wizard of Valeland
Cormac Trok—coilhorn and lapin merchant/farmer
Daera Trok—his wife
Maura Trok—their daughter
Dal Trok—younger brother of Maura
Lord Heptorious du Bois—Earl of Windend
Cole du Bois—Heptorious’s son and heir
Borne Braxton—Heptorious’s ward
Maisie Turner—lifelong friend of Morgan and mistress of Port Taygh
Horace Turner—Maisie’s husband
The Midlanders
Lady Inis of Lorendale—widow of Lord Valen, sister of Rhea, cousin of Urlion
Halla—eldest child and only daughter of the late Lord Valen and Lady Inis
Nolan—Lord of Lorendale, son of Lady Inis and Lord Valen
Gray—second son of Lord Valen and Lady Inis
Pearce—youngest son of Lord Valen and Lady Inis
Lord Jaxe—deceased Lord of Cardenstowe
Lady Rhea of Cardenstowe—Lord Jaxe’s widow, sister of Inis, cousin of Urlion
Whit—Lord of Cardenstowe, only child of Lord Jaxe and Lady Rhea
Cortenus Dyscajor—Whit’s tutor from Karan-Rhad
Wren—one of Whit’s young vassals
The å Livåri
Bria—Halla’s friend
Florian—Bria’s brother
Nicu—friend and informant of Master Morgan
Mihail—Nicu’s companion
Baldo—Nicu’s companion
The Elves of Mithralyn
Elvinor Celvarin—the Elven King
Ystira Banrione—his queen
Aenissa—his niece and heir
Egydd—the last elven mage
Frandelas—elven friend
Other Denizens of Mithralyn
Cressida—a sylth
Tarna Mrenhines—the Faerie Queen
Cliodhna—a faerie
Oren—a faerie
The Helgrins
Aetheor Almunsen—Yarl of Helgrinia
Wylda Olviddotter—Aetheor’s wife
Jered Aetheorsen—their son
Janna—Drinnglennin mistress of Aetheor
Fynn Aetheorsen—son of Janna and Aetheor
Einar Mortensen—Fynn’s best friend
Old Snorri—tale-weaver/bard of Restaria
Aksel Styrsen—nephew of Aetheor
Lars Gormensen—friend of Jered
Otkell Bjarnesen—friend of Jered
Ragnarr Eiriksen—friend of Jered
Konall Frodesen—friend of Jered
Teca—a Drinnglennian thrall
Gralians
Crenel Etiene Fralour Du Regis—King of Gral
Latour—Marechal of the Gralian Royal Force
Albrenians
Seor Luiz de Selaza—noble of Segavia
Bel—Seor Luiz’s only child
Seor Palan de Grathiz—Commander of the Albrenian Royal Force
Dona Soriana—madame of Casa Calida
Kainja—florita of Casa Calida
Yenega—servant at Casa Cali
da
Dona Encertesa—High Priestess at the Temple of Velicus in Altipa
The Dragons
Rhiandra—blue, bound to Leif
Ilyria—bronze, bound to Maura
Syrene—gold, mother of the last clutch
Isolde—silver, the eldest dragon
Gryffyn—gray
Emlyn—forest green
Aed—red
Una—sea green
Menlo—indigo
Ciann—white
Zal—black
Others
Lazdac—wizard, last of the infamous Strigori brothers
Prologue
“Tell me again.”
The solar was overwarm and musty from disuse, but the shutters on the arched windows remained closed against the garden scents of summer. Old rushes lay heaped in a corner, and the wardrobe, the only furnishing save a table and two straight chairs, was hung with the gossamer of spiders.
He thought of the night, years past, when he discovered the lovers in this very room. Ornate tapestries decorated the walls then, and a wide bed was lit by the glow of a dozen perfumed candles. The bed had now long since been removed, but he could still see in his mind’s eye the naked figures entwined upon the silken sheets. He had come upon them unawares, and in exchange for his silence, his own secret was secured, as well as his future.
Now he would see to his son’s.
Of course the woman seated opposite him had no knowledge of the pact he’d made with the sorceress.
“Tell me again,” she repeated, reverence in her voice. “How did you find him? When will he come?”
“As I said, he is well. He will come soon—once he knows what we have accomplished.” But in truth, he knew Lazdac would come when he chose.