"The company is already on its way. They were to leave a week after we did."
"Let's see who leads it. I could meet them and you keep hidden. If your absence isn't questioned then we have our answer."
"Partially. Would Ioane have arranged for an alternative plan? If both of us were to become tribute then even your appearance may put another plan in motion. I do not underestimate Ioane Adan."
"I will be ready for it," said Lockwell. "I am not without my sharp edges."
"I couldn't find any of my magic in Galamog's chamber," said Machel Moet. "Not that any of it would have been helpful. What about you?"
"I was cut off from my magic as well. Galamog alone has power in that chamber. She has been weaving it for centuries."
"What about the story of the Faerion?" asked Machel Moet. "Navir and Wynne the sorceress defeated Galamog using the magic of that book. Was the story true?"
"I heard that one too. I have not found any evidence to say it never happened but I have not spoken to Navir about it. I never met Wynne. At one time she was a pleasant young woman but over the years it is told she has become harsh and critical. She keeps to herself in Toraba. The fact that the story concerns actual people lends some credence to it."
"Tell me about Navir."
"I only met him twice and he didn't appear as I expected him to be. He is a tall Daerlan with handsome features, nothing out of the ordinary. He certainly does not look like an aged Daerlan let alone the eldest creature walking on Landermass outside of Kerreth Veralier. His eyes are deep and grey and that's where you can see his wisdom. However you would not guess him to be a singular Daerlan when you meet him. Unremarkable is how I would describe him."
"Hmm. I'd like some of that wine now."
It was mid-morning when their guide knocked on the door. The steward bowed to them and led them out of the palace and onto the main parkway. Lockwell guessed where they were heading. He saw the squat tower with the yellow smoke flowing upward. He mused over the yellowness everywhere. In the land, the skin of the Mordyn people and now the smoke of their sorcerer's tower were the same faded yellow. Then he recalled he had not seen Galamog. What did she look like and did it affect her land?
The steward left them at the door of the tower. The door opened slowly and a thin sallow face peered out at them.
"Ah, guests for the master," said the man. "I am Husta, the master's servant. Come, come. What names do I give?"
"I am Lockwell. My companion is Machel Moet."
They followed the twisted figure inside, the door closed by itself. The stench assaulted them as they stepped over broken boxes, rotten food and other items whose origins Lockwell did not dare guess. The stairs were wide and sturdy. At the top of the third flight Husta rapped on an ornate door. The door opened noiselessly.
"Enter."
"Master, I present Lockwell and Machel Moet."
Lockwell and Machel walked into an immaculate room fill with tables and books, each with its own place. There wasn't even a speck of dirt on the floor. Their host stood before them. He was a Mordynian of average height and build. His head was bald and his bushy eyebrows nearly shielded his blue eyes from view. He wore a brown robe and his feet were bare. His gaze was intense and seemed to peel away the skin of Lockwell and Machel to see within.
"I am Pashar Bei. Welcome to my home. Husta, prepare refreshments for our guests."
The servant hustled off into another chamber.
"Please be seated. Your appearance here indicates your audience with Lady Galamog went well. That is good." He smiled briefly. "We need the military expertise of the Celaeri for our invasion of western Anavar. Our people are decent fighters but no imagination when it comes to strategy. We plan to cross the mountains south from Arda into Curesia, Wierland and Calendia. Curesia is our first task. Wierland is not strong either and after the two of them are in our control, then we engage Calendia. We will strike directly at Nantitet."
"Do you think Calendia will wait until you are ready?" asked Lockwell. "Their smartest move would be to march to Curesia with the Wierland army."
"Ah Lockwell, that would be correct. However, we have agents in Calendia who are tasked to bring confusion and indecision to High King Armana's court. We shall not engage the Calendian army until we are ready for it."
"Who are your agents?" asked Lockwell.
"That is not for your ears, at least not yet. Ours is a new partnership and must be given time to grow into such trust. I cannot tell you specifics at this point but I can tell you a little more of the overall scope. I need your soldiers to meet me at the Tower of Erast near Arda. From there we shall move into Curesia. I will send a small company into Calendia to aid our agents in Nantitet. There will be enough activity around Nantitet to keep the High King's attention diverted until it is too late. And if our agents manage to kill the High King, so much the better."
Husta returned with the beverages and Lockwell began to feel more comfortable in Pashar Bei's company. He understood the plans better and their place in it.
"I would like to know if Ioane Adan would have known of Lady Galamog's requirement of tribute."
"Ah, I expected this question," grinned Pashar Bei. "Did the Celaeri Queen intend for you to be the tribute? I cannot say. Whose decision was it to bring soldiers with you; Ioane Adan's or yours?"
"Mine," said Lockwell.
"You may have your answer there," said Pashar Bei. "Gentlemen, I will share my thoughts with you. The kings and queens of the world consider practitioners of magic as tools to be wielded as they wish. If it is necessary to end our life they will do it without hesitation no matter how valuable we may be. Look to your own welfare, no one else will. So that concerns the Celaeri soldiers you will bring to me. They are tools and will be used as such. I have no sleepless nights over losing soldiers in battle. I mean to crush the kingdoms of Men even if it means I am the only survivor of the war. Gentlemen plan accordingly for your own protection. Be prepared to sacrifice each other if the need arises."
"I thank you for your warnings," said Machel Moet. "It is refreshing to know we may share a beverage tonight and feel your blade tomorrow."
Pashar Bei smiled.
"I believe honesty works best. That way there is no disappointment when the blade is turned in your back."
"Save us from disappointments, I always say. We shall leave early in the morning. We have much to do in the next month," said Lockwell.
"May your journeys be uneventful," said Pashar Bei. "And may you return with a light heart." He smiled at them as he waved. Husta escorted the men out.
"We are dealing with demons," said Lockwell. "Before us and behind us."
"My sleep will be fitful," said Machel Moet.
"Be glad you can sleep," said Lockwell. "I think it will be a long time before true relaxation can be realized. Do not trust Pashar Bei or any Mordynian for that matter. To the Celaeri we are useful and once the use is passed, we are expendable. The trick is to extend our usefulness to Mordyn and the Celaeri as long as possible. We walk the edge of the knife in the dark."
"And the wind is rising."
"Cheery bastard, aren't you," said Lockwell.
"Well you can't claim all the gloom and doom. Ah, Lockwell did you ever know a place where you truly belonged? I thought for a while it was with the Turucks, then the Celaeri. I can't imagine what belonging feels like."
"Keep it in your thoughts. It may be the only thing that sees us through this field of death."
Chapter 3
The Toraba Forest was once home to the Wierlun, a female dominated society of witches who fought to protect the land. A long hatred of the Wierlun by the king of the Daerlan led to their near extermination. Toraba became a forbidding place and would only tolerate a select few; the Talos Company and their supporters. The Talos Company began as a mercenary army and remains so over the centuries. However, they do offer their services to the oppressed and occasionally without charge. The captains of the company are all long-live
d races: Men serve only as soldiers. It was said Kerreth Veralier wished to have continuity in the leadership. I always thought the reason was Veralier did not track time as others do; he is the oldest living man on Landermass, a mountain of a Zidar and a fighter with no equal. Altair and Gorm Talos gave Veralier the leadership of the company upon his joining them. Under the command of Kerreth Veralier the Talos Company straddled the centuries and grew into legend.
From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass
Faeya Ryr pulled her robe close as she walked out of the house. The last chilly breeze of night wove through the trees to the houses in the valley. Night always seemed to be chilly in Toraba. Only the night sounds greeted her and the dawn would come shortly. She sighed and walked from the house. She was a short woman of undeterminable age although her dark hair was streaked with white her alabaster skin was unwrinkled. Her brown eyes scanned both directions of the path, but she knew where he would be. The path wound between several weathered boulders that had tumbled off the mountainside eons ago. Wind and rain had smoothed their edges. She walked across the field with her short strides to the black rock where the old sorcerer sat, legs crossed, eyes closed. The shape of the sorcerer was round and his bare head reflected the faint light. At least he had put on boots before leaving the warm house. However, his cloak was not his warmest one. She listened to his wheezy breathing for a moment.
"I am not asleep my dear," said Gerrand with a sigh. "I may be old and I may nap frequently but never while I am here. This is where I think."
"I know dear one. What is troubling you? It is not quite dawn. It's early, even for you to want to think."
"My dreams were violent and the images changed abruptly. I tried to let it pass but it held me tight and would not allow me to awaken until I had seen it to its end. One image repeated itself over and over: Galamog."
"She sends danger our way?" asked Faeya Ryr.
"My dreams weren't that clear. However danger comes to someone. I saw armies on the field and blood rolling over the grass. There were armies of Men opposing a dark swarm of attackers. I couldn't see who they were but their familiarity haunts me. I saw the towers of Nantitet ringed in flame and saw waves of magic scorch the land. Women and children cried in anguish and the Talos Company did not come to their summons. Treachery, I fear has struck us from within. War is coming and Galamog is behind it. I felt her many-limbed touch and it struck me blind. There is darkness coming from the west and Galamog from the east."
"The west? Who is in the west?"
"I don't know. The darkness may not have originated in the west perhaps it comes south then west."
"From Arda? There's nothing but ghosts in Arda."
"Nevertheless, that is what I saw. I do not doubt the threat is real."
She squeezed his hand. "I'll send a message to Artus immediately."
"Good for a start. We also need eyes in Mordyn to see if their armies are preparing to march. If there is war, the Mage Guild is unprepared; Artus has not been allowed to teach battle magic to the young Mages. He is probably the only one left in the Guild with battle experience. I fear some advisors of the High King have lessened the influence of Artus. He will need help. Ah Faeya, I am old and cannot do what I once did. We must get everyone here in Toraba together. Even Wynne will be needed."
"Brevin will be heading west soon. We could ask him to swing slightly north and take a look."
"We are fortunate in the timing of this dream," said Gerrand. "There is a chance that Galamog won't find the West unprepared."
"Yes. I'll see to the messages if you get yourself back in that bed. It's not as warm inside as it was a little while ago when we were snug in bed, but it is less chilly than out here."
"Always concerned for me after all these years, how sweet."
"Don't take it for granted. I may find someone younger and leave you."
"Wouldn't be hard, nearly everyone is younger than me. Unless you have lost your eyesight you will see that I am an old, old man."
"Well, old man, get to bed before you catch a chill."
Gerrand smiled and kissed her. He slid off the rock and would have fallen if she hadn't been holding him. He shuffled back to the house.
Faeya Ryr remained outside after the old sorcerer had retired. If another war erupted how could she keep him from becoming involved? He was extremely aged and frail. Battle magic would drain all the remaining vitality from him. He would die in the next war from the effort. He deserved to enjoy his last years, if anyone did. Gerrand was a student of Macelan the Great hundreds of years before and had been the first one who recognized the dark change in Macelan. Gerrand led the battle against Macelan's bid to be the master of Anavar. It was Gerrand who realized the need for wizards, mages and sorcerers to band together to protect their knowledge and to offer proper instruction in the arts. He wrote the definitive histories of Landermass, laying the foundation for the teaching of history to the succeeding generations. Now it was his time to rest and enjoy his waning years. Faeya would not allow him to leave Toraba; he could be an advisor but not more involved. There were days when Gerrand's mind wandered and does not connect to the current world. The days of his youth enter his mind and at times he still believes he is talking to Macelan. Faeya Ryr learned more of Gerrand's youth during those times than Gerrand had told her during their long years together.
Faeya Ryr was a sorceress and her strength was still green. Her own mother was a witch and her mother's name Faeya kept secret. She suspected her grandmother recognized her, but Wynne never acknowledged her as family.
Wynne did offer more than her magic to the defense of the West; she had once faced Galamog and survived. It was the magic of the Faerion; a book infused with the power of the Wierlun that defeated Galamog not Wynne's sorcery, however Wynne's insight would be critical.
Faeya would have to be careful to offer her own magic while keeping Gerrand from participating. It would kill him, perhaps either way; to fight until he is exhausted or the heartbreak of no longer being useful. She would do whatever she could to keep Gerrand alive. It was more important to her than the outcome of the coming war.
She watched Gerrand enter the house and then she hurried past the other houses to the barn at the far end of the lane. It was a stout structure large enough for a dozen animals and the warm smell of the barn almost overpowered her. She did not know why Kerreth Veralier preferred to sleep in the barn; all the other members of the Talos Company, including Moria Albalen, Kerreth's companion, slept in the houses. Rumor led one to believe his Zidar blood caused him to behave so, but Kerreth was only part Zidar while Gerrand was full blooded Zidar. Gerrand had no desire to sleep in a barn, although his tastes were simple. One thing she did know was that Gerrand and his forefathers did not have tusks. Kerreth Veralier could not be a mix of only Men and Zidar if he has tusks. She had no idea what race had tusks. Kerreth Veralier was far older than they were by many thousand years. Many races had died out in the ensuing years. Kerreth did not have any magic, which is unusual for a Zidar, but he was immune to magic, even more unusual. Whatever Kerreth's true heritage was, Faeya did not expect she would find out despite her long lifetime.
She pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the darkness. Silence greeted her and not the heavy breathing she expected. She tilted her head as she listened. The horses nickered and the smell of warm hay surrounded her.
"I am not asleep," rumbled the low voice of Kerreth. "I rarely sleep anymore. Why are you about so early?"
"Gerrand had a vision of war."
"Ah, there is a reason for sleeplessness then. Perhaps I am attuned to this disturbance too. What did he see?"
"Gerrand saw the towers of Nantitet wreathed in flames and armies rolling over the fields. He said he felt the touch of Galamog behind it. He did not want to expand on his visions to me. I think he is afraid."
"That does not comfort me," said Kerreth Veralier. He stood and towered over Faeya Ryr. She could see his tusks in the dim light.
&
nbsp; "Galamog has been quiet for years," said Kerreth. "Mordyn has been a friendly neighbor for the free cities. I hear they have been sending envoys to the High King for the last ten years. Gerrand's dream would not have been suggested by events in the outside world. I'm afraid this vision was magic; a reading of the future."
"I agree. He has been calm of late and even Jarius has not bothered him in days."
"Now that is a cause for concern," said Kerreth. "That boy irritates the hell out of me."
"Jarius is coming to terms with who he is. Wynne is an unusual mother."
"Ha. You are the mistress of understatement. Jarius looks and acts like a human teenager but how old is he? Hundreds? Wynne has babied him all his life. She is afraid he will leave her as Melian did."
"You may be right, but their father has done no better."
"I agree, but it doesn't help that Wynne tries to kill Blackthorne every chance she has. If their relationship didn't work out with Melian, why try again with Jarius? The children were six hundred years apart."
"Are you asking me Kerreth? How would I know?"
"You are a sorcerer."
"Wynne is part Daerlan and part Wierlun and I am Zidar. The fact that she too is a sorcerer does not enter into it. I do not see how I should have any insight to her situation. We are straying from the point. We need to send messengers to Artus Endria and to Brevin Tarbin. We need their agents eyes alert for the coming storm."
Kerreth eyed her as if he would contradict her words. Faeya did not know if Kerreth knew Melian was her mother and thus made the young Jarius her uncle. Faeya was older than Jarius by many hundred years. It was a strange world.
Kerreth sighed and reached for his boots. He looked at Faeya out of the corner of his eye.
"I'll wake Dvorak. He can find Brevin, usually. I'm afraid with the wards around the Mage Academy a personal visit to Artus is in order. I'll send Taina, she's the fastest rider and the High King knows her."
"Good. I must get back to Gerrand and make sure he is warm. He was out on that rock for a long time."
The Vlakan King (Book 3) Page 3