To Be Victorious: The Maestro Chronicles Book 6

by John Buttrick

  Daniel was about to say, “Why don’t you use yours,” but he knew why, and kept his mouth shut. The breaking of trust between he and the man who brought him to the level of Accomplished could only be mended by the two of them. After that, the differences between the Atlantan Guild and Aakadon could be worked out.

  Chapter Seven: Granting Requests

  Daniel removed the amulet from the inner pocket of his cloak. Sherree did not seem the least surprised he had been carrying it. “Terroll, there are a few things I think you should know.”

  “A moment please,” came the mental reply. The pause was brief. “It is good to hear from you. I was beginning to worry you had somehow lost the total recall we all know you possess and had forgotten the communication amulet I gave to you,” a slight rebuke but only slight, because it was accompanied by a profound sense of pleasure. “Putting that worry aside, there are many things I need to know from you, but one in particular I would appreciate knowing first,”

  Daniel imagined his old tutor had a lot of questions, some of which might even receive an answer. He trusted the new Grand Maestro, a little, but only to a certain extent, and yet it seemed prudent to begin the exchange in a cooperative manner. “Ask your question,” he sent through the amulet without promising anything beyond a willingness to listen.

  “I am currently in a meeting with Efferin Tames. He has requested that I break the Silencing you placed on him, but I am sure you used fourteen bolts of potential, and I only command eight, counting the use of my crescendo. You see my problem,” Terroll replied, along with a strong sense of caution.

  He should feel cautious if he was about to request what Daniel thought the man wanted. “If you are asking me to lift the Silencing or the shield on Efferin’s potential, the answer is no.”

  A sense of patience and longsuffering entered the emotional mix flowing through the mental link. “His annum day is approaching and if he cannot cast the spell, Ageless, the years will begin to catch up with him, and that means you have sentenced him to a slow death. He will be one hundred ninety-seven years old four days from now.”

  Daniel had not given the annum day much thought, seeing as his spell, Timeless with a Da Capo attached to the life-force, stopped the caster from physically aging. Tarin Conn had composed a similar spell, but it needed to be cast once every hundred years, and the one known in Aakadon, every year. Those two Melodies only slowed the aging process while Daniel’s Symphonic stopped it. Terroll had never taught him, Ageless, so Daniel composed his own spell without knowing anything about an annum day or a centennial. Efferin must have chosen his birthday as his annum day, not every Accomplished chose to do so.

  Daniel had decided not to cast the spell until after Sherree delivered their child and could also stop aging. His mind was wandering, giving him something to think about other than Terroll’s request. Daniel wanted the former Grand Maestro out of the way, not dead, so there had to be an answer. After a silence that must have made Terroll wonder if the connection had broken, the answer came.

  “I will not remove the shield on Efferin’s potential, that simply will not happen, but you have the power to break the Silencing. Eight bolts would be enough to achieve your goal. I did say at the time that it was within your power to release him. He would be able to relearn and summon the potential for any spell, yet not be able to focus the energy beyond the shield. He should be able to perform Ageless if you teach him the Melody,” Daniel replied. “I recommend you use a variable-potential communication spell or something similar rather than the Symphonic I taught you, any of those spells backed by eight bolts of potential should accomplish the task,” Daniel sent along with a strong sense of urgency on the last statement.

  The sense of caution that had been flowing in from Terroll was replaced by relief and comprehension, perhaps meaning he understood the reason for the recommendation. “I will do as you suggest after our conversation. What few things do you want to inform me of?”

  Hopefully he recognized the danger of a Six-bolt Accomplished, possessing a huge repertoire of spells, as being hazardous to the career of a Four-bolt who wanted to remain Grand Maestro. After all, Tarin Conn freed himself, and so could Efferin. All it would take for him to be free was for Daniel to be dead. It was a hard truth, but if Daniel died before the fall of Tarin Conn, the power of a Six-bolt Accomplished would be needed. The hard truth was not something Terroll needed to know at the moment and so would remain unspoken, audibly or mentally. He could break the Silencing without giving the man back his repertoire and teach him ageless, that Daniel knew without a doubt. It would take time for Efferin to relearn every spell, but if the Chosen Vessel died and the situation was desperate, Terroll could cast the Symphonic and instantly restore the repertoire of the former Grand Maestro.

  Daniel decided to get on with the reason for the communication, “You may not have noticed when Vance Cummin announced his status as the Maestro of the Serpent Guild, Fenton Chen vanished from Aakadon. He was promoted to Tri-Con of the guild and last night I struck him down on the battlefield in Lobenia. General Kall and his united armies were also defeated and are no more.”

  “Those are two pieces of information I did need to know. Chen’s defection did not go unnoticed. Maestros Barroon and Reese both have assigned Accomplisheds to discover his whereabouts, and so you have made it possible for us to shift valuable resources to greater pursuits,” Terroll replied. “I will start by saying, in the meeting we had in Ducanton, mention was made of the huge sea creatures that have been attacking the ships in the Serinian Channel allied with the Serpent Guild; if indeed what is attacking them are living creatures. I know you do not trust me enough to reveal guild secretes, but I need to know; did you or your followers have anything to do what happened in the mighty Hirus and at the skyship base on the coast? Something was under the water, casting spells, and even repaired the Dyson’s keel, we know that much.”

  Daniel felt good about what had been achieved and knew some of that emotion was flowing from him to Terroll. Surely, it would do no harm for the man to hear some of what happened. “Yes, we were involved with both skirmishes and Accomplished Trenca repaired the Dyson. I could not sit by and allow your convoy to be destroyed and the skyship base was too tempting of a target to pass up.”

  “I appreciate the assist and congratulate you on the victories in Lobenia and on the Cenkataaran coast,” Terroll replied. “Just think of what we might achieve if we fought this war as allies rather than acquaintances that happen to have the same enemy.”

  Daniel knew a meeting was inevitable, but did not fully trust the Accomplisheds of Aakadon. Samuel’s ISIG agents were using the spell, Running with the Wolves, on a near constant basis when patrolling the areas around Ducanton, ever since the Eagles and Suns had been hiding in the area under a shield of invisibility among a few apparently scattered flocks of Eagles who had been openly in the vicinity. The meeting was necessary, but should not be in a location of Aakadon’s choosing, and it should take place soon enough that they would not have time to sneak hidden forces into the surrounding area. “I have been thinking about a little get-together. Why don’t you and I meet where we first met, say in three days?”

  Amusement flowed through the link ahead of the words, “I have no objection to meeting at the Polkat Inn and have no reason why the get-together should not occur in three days. This reminds me of the time we met up on the trail, after I introduced myself as an Aakacarn, you did not trust me, and a certain promise was made to you then. I will likewise make a promise today. I have no doubt our journey to Mount Tannakonna will be under close scrutiny the entire way. I say, our, because there will be flocks of Eagles and a few teams of Zephyrs who will accompany me, and they will be visible. So you need have no worry over the possibility of hidden Accomplisheds accompanying us, or any attempt at an arrest.”

  Daniel never expected Terroll to ride alone and so had no objection, within reason, to him bringing Eagles and Zephyrs. “It is agreed, we will meet at th
e Polkat in three days.”

  A sense of relief began to build and then a flood of satisfaction accompanied the simple words, “It is agreed.”

  Daniel slipped the amulet back into his pocket as the horses were being brought to the front. Really, he could walk the two spans, and had done so many times. Of course there was no Lanta back then, hardly any people, only the lake, and the occasional group of children fishing or swimming in the cool water. He glanced at his wife. “I have spoken to Terroll and we will be meeting him in Bashierwood in three days.”

  Her brow wrinkled and Daniel was sure she was about to say something about him scheduling the meeting so soon and without discussing it with her first, especially when her hands all but flew to her hips. “Just because I said you could wear those old buckskins if we went to Bashierwood, does not mean they would be appropriate attire for this meeting.”

  He might have taken her seriously if she had not started to smile before finishing. She knew he would not wear buckskins to a formal meeting with the Grand Maestro. “Let’s make a deal, you won’t wear the white silks of a Talented of Aakadon and I won’t wear buckskins,” he replied while thinking of what she had been wearing when they met.

  Wilma Ryner had walked up at the tail end of the conversation. She wore the traditional topaz blue silks with the hooded-cloak. On her medallion was a pair of open hands, representing the Department of Emissaries, from which Sherree had chosen her. “It looks like I have some rescheduling to do of your itinerary, First Lady,” she spoke formally, even in private, when addressing Sherree. She turned her head this way and that as if looking for someone, and then smiled. “Simon is not here, I finally know of an event before he does.”

  “We don’t know how long the meeting in Bashierwood will be, so my schedule must be flexible,” Sherree told her.

  While they were talking, Daniel walked up to Sprinter, his Ducaunan Racer. The ashen stallion with black mane and tail had been a gift from Donald Laird. Can we run? The thought came from his equine friend. The horse did not care where they were going; he simply enjoyed galloping in the grassy field between the manor grounds and the lake.

  I hope so, Daniel responded and glanced at the other horses; Misty, Sherree’s white stallion, a Lobenian Royal, bred from the Queen’s own herds, along with two Battencayan stallions, one, jet-black and the other beige with a dark brown mane and tail. The black, Nightwind, belonged to Marcus, and the beige, Sandstorm, belonged to Jared.

  Marcus Bower, a tall man, taller than Daniel, and broad in the shoulders, sat in the saddle. His dark hair and eyes matched Daniel’s own, but the man had a wide beak of a nose. He had a sword at one hip and a daggerlance at the other. His light blue wool uniform had a broad dark blue stripe on each shoulder and down each pant leg. On the jacket was embroidered the Benhannon crest. Two golden falcons on each shoulder-stripe identified him as Captain of the Benhannon Guard. On his head he wore a wide-brimmed dark blue hat with gold trim and at the front of it was the falcon in flight clutching a lightning bolt. He was the only man in the Guard who did not wear a helmet, although he did wear a shield amulet under his clothing. The man was not a fool. “Good day to you, Sir Daniel. Congratulations on the victorious night. I hope this day is equally successful,” he greeted, demonstrating he was aware of events beyond the confines of the estate.

  “A good day to you, Marcus, and success as well,” Daniel replied.

  Jared Benfyllon, whose lean frame made his slightly above average height seem greater than it actually was, sat saddle on Sandstorm. The thick dark hair on the sides and back of his head was neatly trimmed and the bald area on top gave him an aura of dignity. His coat and trousers were brown wool and tailor-made, immaculate as his white silk shirt with a touch of lace at the cuffs, each of which were linked by a golden falcon. He had on the traditional clothing of an account-keeper, banker, and all gentlemen in the financial profession. He also had a daggerlance at the hip, but no other weapon. In his right hand was a brown felt hat which he placed on his head, adjusting it until satisfied with the angle. “Sir Daniel, I am looking forward to showing you how well Lanta is prospering. So far you have only seen the town at a distance while coming and going, but we are all pleased to have you visit and meet some of the people who have moved in. Beyond the families of the Guardsmen and Sentinels, we have craftsmen, traders, shopkeepers, a barber, and a new inn, the Lightning Bolt,” the Account-Keeper expressed his pleasure. His voice held a trace of pride. After all it was his business sense that contributed greatly to the economic success of the newly formed community.

  “It is only right that I should get to know the people who have moved into my jurisdiction,” Daniel replied. “Jared, I know your efforts have played a big part in attracting the people who have come to make their livings here. The Creator knows you manage the estate and guild accounts with a deft touch,” he took a moment to glance at the Captain of the Guard. “I am glad the swirling of events led you and Marcus to me on the road to Ducanton.” It never hurt to show appreciation, especially when it was deserved, and sincere.

  A tall young Ecoppian-born Accomplished stepped up to Daniel. Young, he was a year older than his Maestro; life was sometimes funny that way. Where spell-casters were concerned, the appearance of age had little to do with the actual number of years spent since birth.

  Reginald had no lightning bolt on his silks because he lacked sufficient potential in his vat. His lack of a lightning bolt did not mean he was feeble minded or unproductive. The Benhannon Estate Provisioner spent most of his time producing essential equipment and supplies for the men and women who lived and worked under and on the grounds. He was also the person folks came from all parts of the realm to purchase special items from, earning the estate more than a modest income. “Sir Daniel, greetings and a good day to you,” he said in a deep voice.

  The Provisioner seldom ventured from his workshop and sadly, Daniel had to admit, he had not seen the man in months. The Chosen’s Sentinels, the Benhannon Guard, and the Atlantan Guild, had grown so large Daniel did not have as much free time to visit each person who joined up. He made it a point to meet and shake the hand of each one, but after that the war consumed much of his time, and his interaction with the folks serving him often came in the course of carrying out his duties, where theirs and his meshed. “Regi, it is good to see you. I hope your day is going well,” Daniel replied.

  “I was wondering,” the Provisioner began, his dark brow wrinkling with apparent distress. “I was wondering if you might, if you have the time, at some point, will you assess my vat and see if it might hold a bolt of potential. And if it can, will you consider adding to my reservoir?”

  Daniel had filled Sherree’s vat to the brim and also that of Samuel. Often in the process of restoring lost body parts or a person from Condemnation, he had given the patient some of his energy, especially if the individual was on the brink of death. It was the first time a perfectly healthy person asked to be enhanced, but he could think of no reason to deny the request. He stretched out his right hand toward Reginald, while mentally causing his personal shield to retreat from the appendage so he could make physical contact.

  Regi leaned forward eagerly, meeting Daniel’s palm half way. The spell, What Is This, provided the image of a vat about the size of an average Aakacarn in his twenties, but with about as much potential as a non-Aakacarn. His reservoir was a fourth of the way full and the color of buttercream. Daniel focused, Vitality, and liquid topaz flooded into the vat, filling it to the brim in a little over a minute. The relative size and sheer volume of his own life-force energy supply had made the job easy for him, a Four-bolt would have taken longer, and the rankings below that would have taken progressively longer. A one bolt would not have been able to do it all, unless he or she was willing to donate the energy over a period of weeks, depending on the individual’s rate of replenishing.

  Daniel ceased the potential for the spells and took a step back. Reginald’s eyes were wide, bright, and almost r
adiating with the increased potency. “Thank you, Maestro.”

  He shrugged out of his cloak, pulled off his shirt, stripping down to where he stood bare-chested in the afternoon sun. His dark skin, tight over muscle, gleamed in the light. He closed his eyes and in the space of time it would take an Aakacarn to hum the spell, Ranking, which he must have done mentally, a bright flash came from his right shoulder, leaving behind a golden image. “Finally, I have a bolt!” He shouted with tears watering his brown eyes.

  “Congratulations,” Daniel immediately responded along with giving a respectful nod of the head.

  While everyone was congratulating Regi, Silvia and David rode up on their horses. The Seer sat atop her mare, Whisper, whose thick coat was chestnut mixed with white. David rode on a gray mare he had named Twisted, for reasons Daniel had not as yet learned. Perhaps it had more to do with the premarital relationship with Silvia than it had to do with the personality of the horse. The Teki were wearing their traditional bright colors and armed with their customary choice of weapons.

  Simon approached the small gathering on Spud, a mare possessing the color of a potato, and before the Chief Aid could say a word, Wilma told him of the meeting to take place in three days. The sandy-haired Battencayan had often dealt with last minute changes and so his simple nod of acceptance took a little of the joy from her facial expression, but not enough to keep her from smiling. Reginald, carrying most of his clothes, went off bare-chested, proudly displaying the golden lightning bolt.