The Eighth Born: Book 1 of the Pankaran Chronicles

by C. Night

  Chapter 23

  The next day they made it through to the second wall, barely even visible from the first grand gate. While they were travelling, they saw many—too many—black and red uniformed soldiers milling through the city. They kept quietly to themselves and used no magic. Rhyen’s heart pounded each time they passed one of the knots of Zirites, but the soldiers did not even notice him, though many hailed Caliena with smiles, trying to get her attention. She frowned and stared resolutely forward.

  The second oval of Corna was inhabited by merchants, traders, and other wealthier families. There were plants and attractive striped canopies strung up between the tall buildings, pleasing to the eye and shading their burned skin from the sun. Rhyen did not mind the heat and sun of Corna as he had of the Guntorien desert—there was a constant wind that blew in from the sea, even down amongst the maze of buildings, that offered relief from the heat. It was also humid, but there were plenty of wells and pumps spaced at almost every cross street through the city in this level, and Rhyen never felt the dizzying confusion of dehydration. The second level was far cleaner and less populated than the outer oval, and Caliena relaxed somewhat. They rode easily, so the cobblestones that now comprised the streets wouldn’t bruise the horses’ feet. They actually made it to the very edge of the third wall before stopping for the night.

  Disregarding the unsettling meeting with his old friends, Rhyen was enjoying the bustle and excitement of Corna. The first level was considerably lower than the second, with everything rising at a barely noticeable slope, and once they made it into the higher part of the second level, Rhyen was able again to see the sea. The beauty of the blue water was breathtaking, but his heart sank as he looked over the bay. Unless his eyes were cheating him, there were dozens of ships bearing black and red banners, anchored in almost a neat, curving line that efficiently encircled Corna’s docks. He gulped as he looked out of his window that night, remembering the conversation with his old friends, and watching the black emptiness that was the vast water reflect the stars.

  They passed into the third level early the following morning. For the first time they were stopped, and the green and gold clad guards harshly demanded their name and business.

  Cazing responded by tossing each a jingling bag. The soldiers looked inside at the gleam of handfuls of coins. Cazing did not offer to explain their business, but waited silently and patiently. The two guards looked sideways at each other before, as one, they bowed them inside the gate.

  “Nicely done!” Caliena said lightly, applauding Cazing quietly.

  He grinned as they all looked around with interest. This level, as Cazing had already told them, was filled with dignitaries, politicians, and the very rich. It was even less crowded than the second merchant oval, but people still strolled around the smooth white stone streets every way they looked. Trees were groomed and grew in stately intervals around the long rectangular pools of water that provided a median to all the roads. The houses were not stacked on top of each other on this level, but were grand and overlarge. This oval was even higher than the last, and they only had to turn theirs heads west to behold the sea from every view. There was only one more level to the city, and that was the Palace, the highest oval yet and in the very center of Corna. The three made their way west through the wealthy level and rounded the oval until they reached the opposite side of the palace. The sun set as they rode on, until at last they arrived at Thom’s house, a palatial affair in itself situated halfway between the Palace walls and the gate between the second and third levels on the northern side. They were weary when they finally dismounted, and Cazing raised his fist and pounded on the door.

  The door opened, and light poured into the dark street. Rhyen almost didn’t notice the wizened little figure that stood at less than half his height, his face lost in shadow.

  “I expected you two days ago,” croaked an old voice, deceptively strong and steady for so small and old a figure. The voice was matter-of-fact, and not at all accusing or worried.

  “I was delayed,” Cazing replied. “And I’m hungry now.” It was as odd a greeting as ever Rhyen had heard, but somehow it seemed suitable in the situation.

  The tiny hands pushed the doors open to admit them. “It’s good to see you, Thom,” Cazing said as he entered.

  “It is good to be seen, my old friend,” Thom answered. “My groom will see to your horses.” Caliena followed close behind Rhyen. They both smiled and inclined their heads as they passed their host. Once they were inside, Rhyen took a closer look at Thom.

  He had never seen a gnome before. He knew they, like the elves, dwarves, and humans, were one of the original, or high, races. There were sub-species to all of the four races when they began to intermingle—for example, goblins were one of the prominent combinations of dwarves and gnomes, which had experienced a population boom until there were enough of them to form separate kingdoms—and Rhyen had seen a few folk of the other lesser races in Ikha and through his travels. But a full-blooded gnome was very rare these days, and Rhyen was interested to see one. They were inherently magical, like elves, and though they could not consciously wield, gnomes were said to be the wisest and cleverest of all.

  Thom was child-sized, with an abnormally elongated torso and skull. He was completely bald, although his eyebrows were thick and white, and there was a large amount of the white hair down his arms, over the backs of his hands, and growing from each ear, which were larger and more pointed than elf ears. His eyes were angular and clever, and he shrewdly surveyed Cazing as he led them through his grand hall. Thom’s shoulders and head were bowed and stooped with age, although he was light on his feet and seemed to have no difficulty maneuvering the staircase up which he led them. But Rhyen was most surprised about the gnome’s mouth: Every single tooth was pointed.

  When they reached the second story, Thom pushed back the doors and they entered a brightly lit room of immense size, littered with comfortable chairs, tables, lamps, and more books and maps than Rhyen thought he had seen in the whole of the Academy. Another gnome who looked far younger than Thom was standing at the window, and he turned as they walked into the room. He could only be Thom’s son, for he bore the same shade of angular eyes, and an identically wooden expression, although instead of a bald dome, he had a mountain of curly black hair that hung around his large pointed ears.

  “Cazing, you remember my son?” Thom asked, jerking his head at the other gnome, who joined his father at once.

  “Avarek, how are you?” Cazing asked. “When did you get back to Corna?”

  Avarek’s expression became a little less wooden, but smiling did not seem to be a family trait. However, his voice was throatily pleasant and livelier than his father’s, and his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he replied. “Only a few years ago. I missed the daylight.”

  Cazing smiled like he understood, but Caliena and Rhyen exchanged quick glances. “I’d like to introduce my companions,” the old sorcerer said, gesturing them forward. “This is Rhyen of Avernade and Caliena from the Low Country. Our host is Thom’varDa, and his son Avarek’varThom.”

  Rhyen held out his hand to shake that of his hosts, but instead of taking it, both gnomes bowed very low to the ground. Taken aback, Rhyen quickly stowed his hand at his side and copied them, bowing his head down. Caliena looked hastily at Cazing before sinking into what was actually a very pretty curtsy.

  “Please, call us Thom and Avarek. While you are our guests, please do not hesitate to let us know if there anything that we may procure for you.” Thom said, his wooden expression friendly in a blank, impassive sort of way. “You have journeyed far, and you must be hungry.” Thom clapped his wrinkled brown paws with surprising strength, and immediately a human servant entered from a small, unnoticeable door between the bookshelves. “Add a place at the table for our lady guest,” Thom instructed. He turned to Caliena. “Forgive us, but were not expecting you, lady. But a friend of C
azing’s is a friend of ours, and we welcome you.”

  Caliena smiled uncertainly. “Thank you.”

  Thom and Avarek turned to Rhyen. Thom looked him over carefully. “You we were expecting, Rhyen of Avernade. You were once a Hyldhem of Yla, the eighth and last born in your family.” Again he spoke in a precise emotionless tone.

  “Yes,” Rhyen replied, stunned. “How did you know that?”

  “We were expecting you,” Thom answered simply. “And now we must eat.”

  In no time at all, they were seated at a table, with all manner of fruits and vegetables arranged temptingly in different dishes on fancy silver trays. There were many oils, vinegars, and sauces for dipping, and the three humans ate ravenously. Rhyen tried hard to keep from sighing—where was the meat? All of the fruits and vegetables were raw, and Caliena and Rhyen again exchanged looks, discreetly, over their silver goblets of plain water.

  After they had eaten their fill, and, while not perhaps fully satisfied, were at least no longer starving, the table was cleared away by more human servants. Thom and Avarek stood and bowed to Caliena. “You must be tired, lady,” Thom said. “My servant will show you to your room. You’ll find that your belongings are waiting for you there. We hope you sleep soundly in this house.”

  The servants helped Caliena out of her chair, and she curtsied again, confused. “Thank you.” She looked over at Rhyen with a curious expression, but Rhyen shrugged back at her. Caliena was being dismissed, plain and simple, and Rhyen could do nothing to stop it without causing offense to his extremely formal hosts. So Caliena bid them all goodnight, throwing a frosty glare at the two sorcerers on the way out.

  “I assume you did not expect the young lady to join us in these discussions,” Thom said by way of explanation.

  “You’re quite right,” Cazing replied. “Although I’m sure Rhyen and I will hear hell about it in the morning. You don’t have any tobacco, do you?”

  Avarek produced some and quietly passed it over. Both gnomes and the old sorcerer took a few moments to fill their bowls and light their pipes. Rhyen stared glumly into his water, wishing for some roasted chicken, or at least a cake of some sort.

  Eventually Cazing spoke, smoke pouring from his mouth. “Well, boys, fill us in—what’s happening with the coming war between Zirith and Conden?”

  Avarek shook his head. “It is no longer just between Zirith and Conden, Cazing. All of the countries are taking sides. It will encompass the whole world, when it begins.” “You’re such a cheerful person,” Cazing said, and Avarek almost smiled.

  Thom sighed and shook his head. “Where to begin?”

  “We’ve heard about strange activity with the Zirite garrisons, and a steady stream of soldiers arriving almost daily by ship,” Rhyen suggested, “but nothing about defensive ploys for the Condenish army. Are they doing nothing to prepare?”

  Thom and Avarek looked at each other almost gloomily. “They will do nothing,” Thom said at last.

  Cazing pulled his brows together. “What do you mean?”

  “Conden will fall and, unless we interfere, swiftly.” Avarek said. “We are hoping that with the help of two sorcerers we can postpone the war and develop a plan for its swift conclusion once it begins.”

  Cazing and Rhyen looked at each other with worry. “Tell us,” Cazing finally said.

  Thom began speaking. “The war has been inevitable for years. But we have noticed an alarming increase in tensions for the past several years, and very recently the activity suggests that he will make his move.”

  “Who?” Rhyen asked, confused. “The king of Zirith?”

  Thom shook his head, eyes roving darkly between the sorcerers. “Zirith has a queen. And it is not she who worries us. You know who we fear, Cazing.”

  Cazing nodded gravely. Rhyen frowned, and the ball of trepidation that was never far from his stomach rolled over unpleasantly. For some reason, the Dark Rider who haunted his steps crashed into his thoughts. “Who is it?” he asked fearfully.

  The two gnomes and Cazing looked away. Thom did not answer Rhyen’s question, but he began to talk, his voice emotionless, yet dripping with meaning. “A long time ago, there was a great Stone. It was forged by the all the gods, your High and Lesser, and it embodied all of the magic, all of the Elements. They sent it through the portal from Heaven, down the River. This Stone heightened all magic on earth. Not only humans, but all of the races, were affected. Your race was able to wield ten times their limit, and our senses were heightened.”

  “The Pankara Stone?” Rhyen did not know where this discussion was leading. Why were they talking about ancient history instead of current events?

  “That is what you humans called it, thought it was known, like all things, by many names. And there was one among you who sought to wrest the power of the Stone for himself. He was called Taida, the Faceless One.”

  Rhyen felt fear rising in him. Why was Thom telling him this?

  The old gnome continued. “He did not complete his spell, and the Stone was shattered, and the pieces spread across the world. But the Faceless One survived.”

  Rhyen gripped the table uneasily. Surely Thom was joking, or confused. He looked at Cazing. The old sorcerer was frowning with unhappiness, but he said nothing to counter Thom’s words. He did not even seem surprised by the gnome’s claim.

  “He did not survive!” Rhyen almost laughed. “That’s impossible!”

  Avarek interrupted. “He did, Sorcerer. We are certain.”

  Rhyen rounded on him. “And why are you so certain?”

  “Taida was strong, the most powerful sorcerer to have walked the earth at that time. But you are right—it would have been impossible for him to survive, regardless of his magic. Except, of course, that he did,” Avarek answered. He turned to his father, and Thom continued seriously. They were focused intently on Rhyen, as though their goal in life was to convince him to accept their theories.

  “It was not by his power alone that Taida acted. He had formed a deal with one of your Lesser gods—”

  “The Fallen One,” Rhyen interjected.

  “That is one name, yes. But the Fallen One, known to us as the Darkness, had struck a pact with Taida, giving him powers beyond imagining in exchange for the crowns of the seven Elemental kingdoms. But Taida did not complete his deal—he failed in his task. And so he could not find peace in the afterlife. The Darkness used all her power to keep him alive, and until the terms of the bargain have been met, you may be certain that Taida is trying with all his might to deliver his end of the deal: The crowns of the kingdoms.”

  Rhyen sat for a moment, stunned into silence. Then he angrily shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense—and it’s just a legend! How would he have even known to strike a bargain with a Lesser god? They had been absent from the world for thousands of years before Taida was born.”

  Thom closed his eyes. “Can you think of no medium where a sorcerer may go that is not a part of this world?”

  Rhyen opened his mouth to retort that there was no such place, but then he caught himself. “The Sorcerer’s Plane…” he said slowly. “He appealed to the gods on the Plane?” Rhyen felt indescribably dirty—he had, after all, visited the Plane himself. “I didn’t see any gods in the Plane!”

  Avarek snapped his head up and regarded Rhyen with amazement. “You’ve been there?”

  Rhyen brushed his awe aside. “Only once, and by mistake,” he snapped. “But how did Taida find a god there?”

  Cazing, speaking for the first time, answered in almost a whisper. “She found him.”

  Rhyen looked over at his master. “What? How?”

  It was Thom who replied. “Taida was from a line whose Element was originally gifted by this Lesser god. She could come to him, unbidden, because his power came from her.”

  Rhyen narrowed his eyes at Thom. He felt his Opposite ri
sing in him. To temper it, he levitated his goblet in the air and spun it in small circles around his hand. He felt enraged and infuriated—why was he the only one who seemed surprised to learn this information? He glanced over at Cazing, but his master didn’t meet his eye. “You say this like none of it is Taida’s fault,” he accused Thom. Didn’t the old gnome know the horrors the Faceless One had done?

  Thom shrugged and raised his wrinkled hands. “Does it matter now? The point is that Taida is trying to get the seven crowns of the Elemental kingdoms so he can be free of his bargain.”

  “You’re claiming he is the power behind the throne of Zirith?”

  “We believe so. And he is coming after Conden now.”

  Rhyen shook his head, trying to sort his thoughts. “How did he even get power in Zirith?”

  “Pero was where he fell, and Pero is now in Zirith territory. It was the most obvious place to begin.”

  “No matter how powerful, one man cannot take a country alone,” Rhyen reasoned.

  “He is not alone,” Avarek replied. “His right hand, the most fearsome tool in Taida’s arsenal, and one who wields a great power himself, does his bidding.”