by Logan Jacobs
“Start from the beginning,” Deneth demanded. “From your first encounter with Theira.”
“All of it?” I gaped.
“It is the only way we have to judge the validity of your tale,” Deneth replied with a small smile.
I started talking, beginning with the fateful night when I returned to my small apartment in San Francisco to find a supermodel goddess poking through my measly possessions. I described my first adventures with the Shadow Foxes, with asides from the rest of the team. I tried to stay serious, but there were moments when I saw a few of the elders try to hide a laugh.
When I reached the tale of how we recovered the Shodra for Murillo, my lighthearted retelling became more somber. I told them about the dream from Theira with as much detail as I could remember, and then our daring mission to retrieve the Shodra a second time from the Academy. I told of our escape from Ovrista and our flight eastward to find Augustine. I ended when we found ourselves surrounded by the recon team and I told the Foxes to surrender. The end of my tale was greeted with a deafening silence.
“Theira led you here,” Deneth finally said, “because the Shodra can only be used by a properly trained manipulator. This Maderel may be a manipulator, but he does not have the knowledge or skill necessary to control them.”
“That’s what I believe,” I agreed.
“I don’t like this,” the man with the deep baritone protested. “He says these mages have been following them. He has led them straight to Augustine, and now we’ll be forced to fight them. I say we toss them back on the steppe and let either this Maderel character or the sickness finish them off.”
“Why should we believe him?” another woman demanded. “He admits to stealing the Shodra. Twice. The so-called Arch Mage has every right to follow him and try to retrieve them. We should hear what this Maderel has to say.”
“This entire story seems fantastical,” a male elf declared.
“This from a man living in a city hidden in a giant cave,” Lavinia murmured.
“Where are the Shodra?” a tiny woman demanded angrily. “If you do indeed have possession of them, then show them to us.”
“Show them!” several others on the dais called out.
“Enough! This is the guild from my vision,” Deneth declared as she stood up. “I have tested their auras, and it is so. They have brought the Shodra to Augustine. And yes, we must prepare for war, but it is not the Foxes who have brought it to our doorstep. It is the Foxes who will help us end it.”
“I don’t like this,” baritone man protested again, but more quietly.
“We have hidden down here for too long,” Deneth continued. “It’s time to reclaim our place in the world. Shadow Foxes, you are my guests during your stay here. I know you have many questions, and I have many for you, but first, let me welcome you to Augustine, on behalf of myself, Governor Wallace, and the members of the Council of Elders. Private Kesta will see you to the Sherburg Monastery, where I have arranged rooms for you. I will join you this evening, where I hope we can have a more frank and open discussion of what to expect over the next few days.”
“I look forward to that discussion,” I replied.
I bowed slightly, mostly because it felt like I should. A brief smile flitted across Deneth’s face when I looked up, and then she was serious again.
“Private Kesta,” Deneth called out.
“Yes, High Mage,” Kesta said sharply as she stepped out of the shadows.
“You will see my guests to the monastery,” Deneth ordered.
“Yes, High Mage,” Kesta replied with a salute.
Kesta turned to face me and the rest of the Shadow Foxes. She quickly signaled us to follow her and then she marched back across the marble floor. We straggled after her, like ducklings trailing after their mother. Two guards swung the doors open again, and we stepped out onto the portico.
The crowd was still there when we appeared at the top of the steps. Voices drifted up from below, and I could see that many of the people were deep in conversation. As soon as we appeared, however, the voices died down and the crowd turned to stare at us.
“This is getting positively bizarre,” Maruk rumbled as the only noise that we could hear was the sound of shuffling feet.
“They won’t harm you,” Kesta said. “But everyone has heard about Deneth’s vision by now. They just want to see you for themselves.”
“What was her vision?” I asked.
“I’m sure she’ll tell you later,” Kesta replied. “Come on, the monastery is close by.”
The quiet crowd that followed us this time was even larger and though no one attacked us, they pressed in tight against our group. Our progress to the monastery was at a standstill when a small group of soldiers in camouflage appeared to help us push our way through the crowd. I recognized Kesta’s superior as he ordered people to make way and I saw Kesta give him a small nod of appreciation.
The crowd fell back finally, and we arrived at our destination with taut nerves but no injuries. The monastery was surrounded by a high wall that blocked out any view from the street but we were met at the gate by a balding man wearing a gray cassock. He smiled benignly at our group, offered the crowd a benediction, and then signalled to some unseen gate keeper, who opened the portal to admit us.
We passed inside and found ourselves on a stone pathway that led to a white, stuccoed, two-story building, trimmed in shades of blue and green, surrounded by a sea of herbs, vegetables and fruit trees. Other men in cassocks moved among the gardens, and only a few glanced in our direction as we passed by.
“I’m Abbot Creon,” our guide said in a jovial voice. “Welcome to Sherburg. We are the primary home of the Augustine monks and we are happy to have you as our guests.”
His blue eyes twinkled as he led us towards an impressive pair of carved doors, and his voice had a melodious quality to it that made me think he must be a singer. The long hemline on his cassock gave the impression that he was simply floating forward rather than walking, an impression aided by that fact that he barely made a sound as he moved, despite his large girth.
The doors to the monastery opened as we stepped onto the portico, and a quick check with my mana revealed a spell that served like a sensor, though I suspected it only worked for members of the order. Strangers would not be admitted without a guide just because they made it past the gate.
The interior of the monastery was dimly lit and noticeably cooler. The floors were a simple brown tile and the walls were bare brick. There was almost no adornment beyond a triptych depicting several of the gods and goddesses, featuring Theira in the main role. There was a quiet humming noise, and it took me a moment to realize that it was the sound of chanting from somewhere deep inside the building.
“Your rooms have been prepared,” Creon announced as two junior monks stepped forward. “As you can see, we do not have much in the way of possessions, but I believe you’ll find the rooms are comfortable. Avain and Glenn will show you where everything is. High Mage Deneth is expected in an hour. I’ll send someone to collect you and bring you to my private dining room when she arrives.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
“Ah, it’s my pleasure,” Creon said. “It’s not every day you meet the subjects of a High Mage’s vision.”
He laughed jovially, gave me a fatherly pat on the arm, and then sent our guides scurrying down the right side hallway with a shooing motion. We trotted after them, to a winding staircase of wrought iron. Avain and Glenn bounded up the stairs, while the Shadow Foxes followed at a more leisurely pace.
Avain and Glenn waited impatiently for us and then led us down another long hallway to a quick left-hand turn into a shorter block of rooms. Ten doors at the end all stood open, and our guides were practically bouncing as they showed us each room.
The rooms were simple, with a single bed, a small desk and an armoire. Each room had a window placed high enough that it was hard to see out but it still let in plenty of the faux sunlight. Someon
e had added a small bouquet of fresh herbs and flowers in a vase to each room, as well as a pitcher of cold water and a small book on the history of the Augustine monks.
Our packs had been deposited in each room, and I found mine at a room near the far end. Merlin, in puca form, sat on his haunches on the pillow, sipping from a child’s cup while he played with a pile of glass marbles.
“We thought he might be thirsty,” Avain explained when I asked about the cup.
“And the marbles?” I added.
“We keep bags of them for any children that might visit,” Avain said with a shrug. “We didn’t want him to get bored and start scratching at the door or exploring places where he might get into trouble.”
Merlin chirruped happily and sent several marbles rolling across the bed.
“That was a smart idea,” I admitted.
Avain and Glenn departed as quickly as they had arrived, and the Shadow Foxes returned to their rooms to freshen up. I closed the door to my room and sat down on the bed, careful not to sit on any of Merlin’s new toys.
“Anyone else try looking through the bag?” I asked the puca.
“No,” he assured me after a long sip of whatever he was drinking.
“Please don’t spill any of that on the bed,” I sighed. “I don’t want to ask for clean sheets before I’ve even had a chance to sleep in the bed.”
Merlin belched and scrunched his nose at me.
“What is it anyway?” I inquired.
Merlin handed the cup to me, and I took a sip. It was lemonade with a hint of mint and really quite delicious. I took another, bigger sip, drawing a growl from the puca.
“Fine,” I sighed as I handed the cup back to him. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten about those peppermint candies.”
Merlin sneezed and took another swig from his cup. I leaned back against the wall and watched him play while I tried to decide what to do next. There hadn’t been a second attempt to find the Shodra, assuming that was what had happened at the hospital, but that was probably only because Merlin had stayed with my gear. Maybe it was time, finally, to entrust the Shodra to someone else. Like a High Mage who seemed to know more about these mysterious items than anyone else.
Chapter 11
It was nearly two hours before we were told that the High Mage had arrived at the monastery. Avain and Glenn had been dispatched once again to serve as our guides, and they were still determined to move things along as quickly as possible. Dehn was practically running just to keep up with the two youths, who raced through the monastery despite their encumbering cassocks.
“I think we need to ask for different guides,” Dehn panted. “Someone who won’t try to run us ragged.”
“Maybe that old monk who fell asleep while gardening,” Lavinia suggested.
“Who?” Cat asked as he swerved to avoid a monk laden with fresh loaves of bread.
“You didn’t see him?” Lavinia commented. “Near the far end of the garden. There was an old monk under one of the lemon trees. He was sitting on one of those little stools they use when they’re weeding but he’d fallen asleep.”
“That sounds about Dehn’s speed,” Maruk replied.
“You laugh now,” Dehn warned, “but just wait until you need someone to protect your back.”
“Or at least your ankles,” Aerin added.
“I’ll have you know, I’m the tallest in my family!” Dehn declared.
“Even taller than Cousin Schlomo?” I asked.
“I’ve got at least a full inch on him,” Dehn sniped.
Avain and Glenn had come to a sudden halt before a beautifully carved door bearing images of an array of plants and animals. I spotted a date palm, an ear of corn, a pair of grazing elk, a rooster and a bass, and that was just in the first five seconds.
“This is beautiful,” Lena said as she ran a hand over the door.
“It was salvaged from the original Sherburg monastery,” Glenn replied.
The door suddenly opened, and Avain and Glenn both lowered their heads for a moment before darting back down the hallway.
“Those boys,” Creon sighed as he stepped into the hallway. “I asked them to see you inside, not dart off as soon as the door opened.”
“I don’t know why you asked them to do this task,” Deneth’s voice laughed from behind Creon. “You know they never stop moving.”
“True enough,” Creon agreed as he shook my hand. “Well, come in, Shadow Foxes. Let’s enjoy a meal together before we turn to the serious business of the evening.”
We stepped into a small apartment that was clearly Creon’s personal abode. Though spartan compared to many of the places we’d seen, it still held its share of knickknacks and curiosities, many of which had been salvaged from the original city of Augustine and passed down from one abbot to the next. Creon was happy to show off many of the pieces while we sipped on the alcoholic version of Merlin’s lemonade and our team’s experts even offered their own insights on some of the items.
Dinner was served in a small but formal dining room. There was the white tablecloth with matching white cloth napkins, the heavy brocade curtains drawn against the fading light from the french doors to the garden, three crystal glasses at each seat, an array of silverware, and heavy pewter plates etched with various scenes of Augustine. Even Merlin had his own place set up in a corner, with a tray full of puca-sized bites and a bowl of fresh milk. Despite this, dinner proved to be more informal, and even the abbot and the High Mage ignored most of the glassware and silverware in favor of the basic fork and knife and a glass of wine.
The food was wonderfully fresh, and I made quick work of the flaky, piping hot bites of spinach pie with melting cheese that came out as an appetizer, the blood orange salad with sunflower seeds, and the paper-thin slices of carpaccio. I slowed down for the main course, just so I could fully appreciate every herb and spice that had gone into the rub for the incredibly tender pork loin. By the time dessert arrived, I was starting to feel as big around the middle as our host. Still, it’s hard to pass up a decadent chocolate torte with fresh strawberry sauce, and I noticed more than one Shadow Fox surreptitiously scrape the last bit of sauce from their plates.
“Do you eat like this every night?” Maruk inquired as he dabbed the last few crumbs from his face with his napkin.
“Oh, goodness no,” Creon replied. “But we do have a member of our flock who is quite talented in the kitchen, and he lives for those rare moments when we have outsiders so he can show off his skills to the fullest.”
“He did do that,” Yvaine said with a satisfied smile. “I can think of quite a few estates in Ocloara that don’t produce nearly such fine feasts.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that along,” Creon laughed. “Shall we return to the study? We can talk in there without being disturbed.”
I managed to stand up, mostly by sort of rolling out of my chair, and followed our host back to the study. Creon pulled an assortment of chairs into a rough circle and then tugged on the bell pull. A moment later, a swarthy man with a humped back opened the door.
“Tea for everyone,” Creon ordered politely. The man nodded and quietly closed the door as he left.
We made small talk until the man returned with the tea. Creon poured cups for everyone and then took a seat in the remaining chair.
“Before we start any discussions,” I began, “there’s something I need to do.”
I untied the pouch from my belt and handed it to Deneth. She hesitated a moment and then slowly reached out and grasped the bag. She took a deep breath and opened it, using her mana to view what was inside.
“Gabriel?” Yvaine whispered.
“It’s okay,” I assured her quietly and then said more loudly, “Deneth, I believe these would be safer with you. I’ve carried them this far so that a manipulator who understood them would protect them. But someone already searched my room at the hospital, and it may be a coincidence, but I think someone here is looking for them as well. So, I don’t thi
nk I should keep them any longer.”
“Searched your room,” Creon repeated angrily. “That is unacceptable. I shall ask for an investigation.”
Deneth held up a hand, bringing Creon’s rant to a quick end.
“I’m not surprised that someone would have searched for them,” Deneth said. “And I have no doubt that the person who went through your room was paid by someone else to do just that. I can name any number of people who might try such a thing. So, I will gladly take custody of the Shodra for the time being but I am not the one who will use them.”
One by one, Deneth drew each of the Shodra from the bag.
“The Shodra,” Creon said in awe. “I never believed I would live to see them.”
“You hoped you would never see them,” Deneth replied quietly as she examined each item.
“Why wouldn’t you want to see them?” Aerin asked.
“There was an oracle in Augustine,” Deneth explained. “She survived the attack and helped save many others at a great cost to herself. Before she died, she gave us one last prophecy. She told us that the war wasn’t over, and that it would come to Augustine once again when the Shodra were brought to our shores. The last great battle for Evreas would happen here.”
“And Theira told you that we were coming, with the Shodra,” I said.
“Yes,” Deneth replied as she returned the Shodra to the pouch and tied it to her own belt. “It’s been so long since the oracle’s prediction, that most have come to feel that it wasn’t a true prophecy. Many no longer believe that the Shodra even exist. After all, we understood that the war was over, that the elementalists had triumphed.”
“The war is over,” Lena asserted.
“Or maybe it’s been a cold war,” I mused.
“A cold war?” Creon asked.
“It’s a concept from my… original home,” I explained. “There aren’t big battles with opposing armies or such, but there’s still a war going on. It’s fought more in the shadows.”