“During Mielis’s reign, a shadow also fell over Nherissa’s heart. His loss of power caused him to be jealous of us, the Phrenii. This jealousy and quest for power led him to invent the dark lore of necromancy. Necromancy derives power from death, draining the Void, and is the antithesis of life-light. It allows practitioners to restrain souls against their will and wrest secrets from them. While it is evil and dangerous to interfere with the journey of souls, Nherissa went even further. He learned how to bind the power of death and pain into objects, eventually becoming powerful enough to even bind souls in this manner.
“We, the Phrenii, were ignorant of Nherissa’s jealousies and his intent to undo us. King Mielis and his madness distracted us, which may have been intentional, even instigated, by Nherissa. We watched the King’s logic fail as he became paranoid of everyone around him. He gave orders that put his people in unnecessary danger, and he imprisoned his nephew Kotiin because he feared a plot to take his throne. We knew this was wrong, but Mielis, through the Kaskea, commanded our loyalty.
“However, concern for Kotiin did allow us to consult Cessina. In the aspect of Mahri, we searched for him and found him locked away and studying dusty scrolls. When we told him of the ill treatment of Kotiin, Cessina sighed.
“‘This is more than I prepared for,’ he said. ‘I am old and tired—now I have to deal with the Kaskea.’
“Even old and tired, as he claimed, thunderclouds of power gathered when Cessina stormed into the Palace of Stars to stand before the King. Mielis cowered in front of his rage.
“‘A gift should be used as it was intended,’ Cessina said as he ripped the Kaskea from Mielis’s neck. Immediately our eyes cleared and the mortals in the room looked like they woke from a dream. The Phrenii could now feel Nherissa and realize our peril.
“Men ran to free Kotiin without permission. When Mielis saw Kotiin, his own Guard had to hold him back to keep him from killing his nephew. He became a maniac.
“For us, there were more important things to address. We came with Cessina, here, to Nherissa’s tower. Kotiin followed with a company of King’s Guard, but Cessina bade them to stay back. Weapons and mortal strength would do no good here.
“When reaching this tower, the Phrenii encircled it and attempted to crack the stones, but Nherissa’s death power was too strong. He struck at our very hearts, filling us with the dread of mortality. Eventually the Phrenii huddled behind Cessina, a miserable mass of fear. Nherissa appeared at the top of the tower and jeered at us.
“‘My brother, why are you doing this?’ Cessina asked.
“‘You might have forgotten the call of power, but I haven’t. Look at your Phrenii! When I make them mortal, they will become my pets.’
“‘I warn you, the evil art you created will undo you.’ Cessina was shaking from fear, rage, or perhaps weakness.
“For an answer, Nherissa sent his power searing down upon his brother sorcerer. Cessina fought valiantly, while the Phrenii cowered behind him. We could do nothing to help him. The sky filled with the flashes of power. Finally Cessina was knocked down and pushed back along the ground. Kotiin rode up and threw himself off his horse to shield the old sorcerer. The Phrenii were ready to flee into the forests, which shames us to this day.
“‘Wait,’ Cessina said. ‘There is still hope. We need more time.’ The strength of his voice caused us to stand fast, and Nherissa paused upon the battlement. A wind rose, circling around the tower with a shrill keening.
“Cessina, with Kotiin’s help, struggled to his feet. ‘You are destroyed. My cohort is releasing your prisoners.’
“Nherissa heard him over the wind, and his face went white.
“‘Who?’ was the last word Nherissa spoke. He was torn apart on his own battlements by unseen forces, his limbs flying into the wind, his flesh tearing off his bones. Underneath the shrill sound of the wind, we heard the screaming of voices and knew they were the released souls of the dead. The earth began to shake as the souls hurled themselves upon the tower, tearing it apart with their hatred. The stones began to crack.
“Dust whirled about us and splinters of rock rained down. Cessina pushed his way to the tower on his knees, not strong enough to stand against the stinging debris.
“‘I must go inside,’ Cessina called, so we struggled to follow. Kotiin joined us as we worked our way to the tower, none of us understanding Cessina’s need. He struck the doors with power and they disintegrated, no longer protected by Nherissa.
“We followed him into the stronghold while it was being dismantled. As we went, the old sorcerer searched every niche and corner, and checked every pile of bodies—for there were many. At last, he found what he was looking for: a child dressed as a boy of no more than twelve summers. The child was still alive, with a worn face, spent from fighting a great evil. Cessina quickly covered him with his cloak.
“‘The lodestone,’ whispered the child, weakly gesturing toward the corner.
“The stone in the corner devoured light and we could barely see it resting in a stand shaped like a giant hand. The Phrenii knew we were looking at our mortal bane. It is the lodestone of souls, perhaps the greatest necromantic charm ever made. An enormous number of deaths gave it power, even after it was forced to release its trapped dead. The lodestone is powerful enough to have a will to exist, and can warp mortals with its evil.
“Cessina chanted a spell of life-light protection and carefully stowed the stone in a large leather sack, which both he and the child had to carry between them. He said the mere touch of the lodestone could kill a mortal.
“‘Lahna and I must take care of this evil thing. I don’t have much time left,’ Cessina said. Only then did the old sorcerer remember the Kaskea he had ripped from Mielis.
“‘The Kaskea must never again be misused, even by a king of Tyrra. Now the bearer must step into the mind of the Phrenii and understand their pain.’ Cessina held out the Kaskea and Kotiin, mistaking his gesture, reached out to take it. There was a splintering sound as the Kaskea shattered into five shards, and Kotiin pulled his hand back as molten metal from the setting and chain dripped from Cessina’s hand to the floor. One shard now rests in the ring on King Perinon’s hand, and the Kaskea can no longer bend men, or Phrenii, to the wielder’s will.
“After breaking the Kaskea, Cessina and the child left, taking with them the lodestone of souls. They left in the Tyrran year 998 by the New Calendar, and the Phrenii did not question what Cessina planned, knowing he would do his best. If it couldn’t be destroyed, he would hide it.”
Mahri lowered its head. “We felt Cessina labor toward this end for fifteen years, before he left us to make his way to the Stars.”
Silence covered the ruins, save for the wind. Draius looked at Lornis, who raised his eyebrows. She shrugged in response. Neither said anything. The breeze lessoned, but continued to sigh through the remaining piles of stone.
Finally, she broke the silence with careful words. “An excellent telling in the ancient tradition. Every Tyrran child knows the story of how Cessina’s apprentice Lahna infiltrated Nherissa’s tower in the guise of a young boy.”
She paused, almost overwhelmed by a memory of her mother pointing out Cessina in the night sky over the sister cities, the vividness of this childhood memory probably brought on by the nearness of the Phrenii.
Clearing her throat, which still felt sore, she continued. “However, I never heard of this lodestone of souls. I would never doubt your telling of these events, but—and I don’t mean to be disrespectful—what does this have to do with our current investigation?” She was trying to be diplomatic, which was unfamiliar territory for her. After such a story it would be rude to bluntly ask, So what’s your point?
Dahni picked up the story. “The child Lahna, whom Nherissa mistook as a boy, grew to be a minor sorceress. She and Cessina withdrew from society and no one knows, including us, what they did with the lodestone. We believe that Cessina resorted to hiding it because he could not destroy it. And
we know that in the past false-spring, it has been unearthed and used. In this we are certain.”
“This lodestone still exists? What about the souls?” Lornis’s jaw stood out in sharp lines.
“The lodestone was emptied of souls by Cessina and his apprentice. Since it was recently unearthed, however, it has entrapped another one or two.”
Lornis looked ill and Draius understood how he felt. Even her stomach churned. The journey of souls to the Stars was supposedly inviolate, eased by one’s honorable behavior during life and the cleansing fire after death. “Do the Phrenii know where the lodestone is hidden?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then how can you be sure it’s unearthed?” Her eyebrows lifted. She might as well push them to be specific, for once.
“Life-light and necromancy are antagonistic. When a powerful necromantic charm like the lodestone comes near us, our elements become—unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Hence, the uncomfortable rain, wind, lightning, and earthquakes of the last erin. Even when it was close, we searched and couldn’t find its location. Now the lodestone has moved away and our charges in the sister cities are safe.”
“Moved away…” Lornis echoed. He pulled out the small sheets that he used for making notes.
“But how does this relate to the murders?” She doggedly tried to turn the conversation back to the mundane. “It seems the lodestone was gone long before those men were killed. And, in the presence of the King, you said that no magic was used in these murders.”
“Mortal weapons did kill those men, but these events cannot be a coincidence. We felt the lodesone feed. Then Nherissa’s art is rekindled, aided by his own records. The murders were used to make necromantic charms. Now someone attempts to use a shard of the Kaskea. This feels like a plan to resurrect necromancy.”
Mahri had picked up the conversation from Dahni. This transition was like watching a juggler play sleight of hand with balls. Being elements of the same mind, they disoriented her by passing the debate back and forth. Was this intentional? And why did two of them came to this meeting?
“To what end?” She ground her right foot into the dust, hiding her vexation. “Why would anyone want to resurrect necromancy?
The creatures said nothing, the equivalent of a phrenic shrug.
“But only the King can use the Kaskea.” Lornis pounced on a point she shouldn’t have missed. “You’re saying someone tried to break his bond? How is that possible?”
“The Kaskea was designed by men, and the binding can only be broken by death. We assumed the broken Kaskea would be wielded the same as before, by one person of Meran blood, but we were mistaken.”
Their puzzling answer shook her. Tyrrans had no gods, but the Phrenii are True-Starlight-Below, making them brothers and protectors to the Tyrran ancestors. Tyrrans believed the Phrenii were immortal, they couldn’t lie, and they were never mistaken. “Does the King know about this?”
“He knows our nightmares,” Dahni said. “We feel mortals attempting to touch us through the shard of the Kaskea. We feel blood and death magic, anathema to us.”
It might have been a trick of the early morning light, but she thought she saw Dahni shiver. With its brilliant green eyes, the creature looked searchingly at her, as if expecting some response. Locked by its gaze, she struggled to look away.
“Only those of Meran blood can bind to the Kaskea,” Mahri said. “A sorcerer helped the King through his first use of the relic—”
“Until the sorcerers were gone,” Dahni added.
“Now that the Kaskea is broken, it still requires preparation on our part and by the wielder before it is bound. Last night, when another tried to use it—”
“With blood, pain, death,” Dahni added.
“And by avoiding rapport, he risked his own sanity and the sanity of the King,” Mahri finished.
“He? Last night?” Draius focused on the points that might, just might, help her. Her mind recorded the words as well as a clerk could write them, but she set most of them aside as gibberish. “Do you know who attempted this?”
“We know he is male and he has some Meran blood. We also glimpse his heart—he is coerced into this and he avoids rapport, which will lead to madness.”
“But do you know his name?”
“Not yet, but we will know him should he come in contact with us.”
Of course, they can’t give me anything practical, only intangible myth and madness. Whoever attempted this would be avoiding the Phrenii, but that would make him like any other adult in the sister cities. She turned away and watched the river below, having a momentary insight that disturbed her: the Phrenii are frightened. Stepping over each other’s words was a behavior she’d never seen, perhaps evidence of panic. The concept of the Phrenii fearing anything or anyone was strange, like the thought of the Phrenii being wrong. She walked over to where the edge of the tower had been and pulled her cloak tighter about her while she gazed down at the cities.
“So this person must have Meran blood, yet the use of blood is ‘anathema’? I don’t understand.” Lornis’s voice carried thinly on the breeze.
“Neither do he and his cohorts. Perhaps we should use the words lineage or bloodline.”
“Oh. So there’s no blood involved in bonding to the Kaskea.”
“We do not talk about the process of binding, for many reasons. We just say that sufficient need and free will are required from the user. The murderers, however, have assumed the Kaskea resembles a necromantic charm. They taint our bond with blood and pain.”
Something in Dahni’s voice made Draius shudder and she forced her thoughts back to the physical evidence. This reasoning was too tenuous to suit her: necromancy was the only connection between the thefts of the Royal Archives, the murders, and the lodestone, and only because the Phrenii said so. The Phrenii were considered unconventional information sources at best. The King’s Justice preferred evidence that could be seen, handled, and heard, from real people. She needed to leave the mysticism behind, she thought, as she turned back to face the creatures.
“Only a mortal with access to Nherissa’s notes would be able to fashion the charm that nearly strangled you.” Mahri gestured at her with its horn.
“You knew about Taalo’s charm?” Did they also know where Taalo had gone? Lornis and Miina, with the help of the watch, spent a day tearing apart the laboratory for clues. They found a false floor, where several circles were burned into the wood. Lornis identified the use of something he called ‘aqua regis,’ which could dissolve almost anything, given enough time. Otherwise, they found nothing of significance.
“No, we couldn’t see the charm because the maker effectively obscured it. We only felt the evil, but we remembered we must warn you.” Mahri’s tense was garbled, an indication their prescience had mucked up their sense of time. When was the ‘present,’ for creatures that had lived so many years and not only experienced, but foresaw, the same events over and over again?
She fingered her throat while her heart pounded from the implications. Taalo had managed to hide something from the Phrenii. She’d worn the charm right in front of the creatures, yet they merely felt something was wrong? It was difficult to accept such imperfections in the Phrenii. Taalo was more than an eccentric murderer, and much more dangerous than she suspected.
“We must examine this charm,” Mahri said.
So they knew she still carried it. She unwrapped it and displayed it to the Phrenii, having to get closer to them than she had ever been since childhood. Her hands shook as she held out the pouch, lying upon the cloth wrap. Their noses bent over her hands, and she fought an intense urge to step back—please, I don’t want to see blood on my hands. She didn’t know how they were examining the item. They might have been sniffing, because they closed their eyes, but she wasn’t sure they could breathe or smell.
“It is minor death magic. Made by mortals through torture and murder,” Mahri said after they were finished and she could step away. “It has bee
n a long time since we felt this. The maker was skilled enough to use a spell of concealment, so even if you happened to notice it, your thoughts would slither away from it.”
She wore the pouch the entire day without remembering it or having anyone remark upon it. Not even the Phrenii saw it. “Why did he use the councilman’s finger and ring?”
“This charm has, as its source of power, the violent and shameful death of a powerful man,” Mahri said.
“Why the symbols, the extra blood?”
Mahri hesitated, perhaps having the entire phrenic mind consider the question. “We do not understand their significance, but we believe rituals help the necromancer focus and tether the power.”
Draius wrapped up the charm again in several layers of cloth, tying the bundle firmly with leather lacing. I’m not frightened of this thing. She yanked the knots tight.
“The charm was given a command based upon a trigger, so you must present a danger to the necromancer,” Mahri said.
She thought back to the moments before the choking episode. There had been no bright enlightenment regarding the case, no dawning awareness, only the comfort of an evening where she had felt safe and secure. Comfort she rarely felt, true, but nothing regarding the case.
She shook her head. “The murderers are only in danger from the King’s Law and Justice—if I die, someone else will take my place.”
The creatures looked at her as if she had missed their point. She sighed, wanting to end this conversation, but it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out for this lodestone. Perhaps this was the way to uncover the conspiracy. “We know what the Kaskea shards look like—they’ve been on display for hundreds of years. What about this lodestone? What does it look like?”
She seemed to have stumped the creatures. They cocked their heads and said nothing, their eyes following her as she paced slowly across the foundation of the tower.
“Surely you remember. You described the stand that held it.” Her voice was challenging. “How big was it? What color? How heavy? It could be carried by a child of twelve and an old man, correct?”
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 16