by D. H. Aire
“Move that one there, Raven. Very well. The legend deals with the House of Kyrr.”
George stiffened. “Kyrr, again. The boy lord who saved the Shattered House about four centuries ago, and your ancestor.”
“And father of Erone Secondson, ancestor of my Sire’s House, as well,” Fri’il added.
George frowned. That made Lord Kyrr rare, indeed. He had sired two sons in a land where the birth of but one was the cause of celebration and hope, helping their desperate society of women survive for another generation.
Tale of Black Swords
Chapter 22
Se’and began to restate the tale of the Black Swords. “There was a terrible war in the Northlands. The Demonlord’s armies were on the march. The Aqwaine Empire had lost thousands of soldiers, entire legions, it was said. A message for help came by ship to Catha and the Lords debated, then rejected the appeal outright. Only Lord Kyrr voiced favor in going to the Empire’s aid. The other lords objected because they had no defense against magery. But Lord Kyrr proclaimed, ‘Had they not dealt with the Dark One’s minions in the past?’
“‘Yes,’ they replied, using the Mother Shaman’s blessed black metal on the tips of their spears and arrows. ‘But in a great battle the metal would be quickly spent and their forces would be slain.’ Then Lord Kyrr brought forth his sword of the blessed black metal and said, ‘This is bane to the Demonlord’s mageries. My House’s foundries wrought hundreds of these swords. Let us go and help the Empire defeat the dread enemy.’
The lords laughed, ‘What can but a few hundred such swords do in such a great battle? Let your House take those swords to the Empire’s defense if you will it... But our decision is plain. We will not come to the Empire’s aid!’
“And so it was that Lord Kyrr and the Sisters of his House took ships to the Empire. They joined the Highmage’s last forces and fought in the Northlands. Many Sisters fell there. The final battle was terrible. Lord Kyrr led his House in the great charge and the bearers of the black swords provided a bane to the Demonlord’s mageries. The Sisters fell upon the enemy and opened the way for the Imperials to break through for victory. Lord Kyrr was injured in the battle and stayed many days in the Empire before he and the survivors returned home. That is the legend these tapestries show, Milord.”
Fri’il shook her head, “Tell him of the fate of the black swords.”
Moderately exasperated, Se’and nodded, adding, “Upon their return to Cathart, Lord Kyrr saw the greedy looks the Lords had for the black swords. The other Houses coveted the famed swords. Offered Lord Kyrr great wealth in return for but one, and Lord Kyrr turned down every one of them. When it looked like his refusal would lead to bloodshed the swords were suddenly gone and no Mother Shaman could even say how or to where. It was rumored one sword remained: the blade worn by Lord Kyrr himself, given as a gift to one in the Empire. He claimed, one day this gift would return to Cathart and be inherited by the Second Son in the days heralding when our Curse was to end.”
Se’and turned away and began pointing at each depicted scene. “There is the charge... This one seems to take place earlier. This one shows them fighting hand–to–hand. That one, Fri’il, move that over there. It has to be a scene earlier than that one... Raven, no, that one belongs over here… it has to.”
George shook his head. “And some say this legend is a prophecy and not about Lord Kyrr, I take it.”
Fri’il hastily replied, “Some say that, others say it happened and will happen again. That Cathartans will fight bearing the black swords in defense of the Empire yet again.”
Dustin hesitantly approached the door, then knocked. A man watched him carefully. “Ah, Dustin, do come in,” the servant, Farrel, said. “My Master and I are sorry that we had to leave so suddenly yesterday. But the matter was quite urgent.”
“I understand completely,” Dustin stated as he entered. He noted the tapestries all seemed to still be in the room, then struggled to smile. “I just came by to see if you were all right, is all.”
The merchant came over and assured him that all was well. “Would you care to dine with us for dinner this evening?”
“Oh, thank you, but I regret that I cannot. One of the Faeryn masters has asked me to join him tonight.”
George frowned, realizing that the young elfblood was lying, then heard himself say, “That is wonderful. We will expect you to bring him with you, tonight, as well.”
Dustin gaped, “Uh...”
Se’and glanced at Je’orj in surprise as he hastily ushered the elfblood out of the apartment. “By the Sixth Bell, then! Oh, you must excuse us. We have some business to attend.”
The door closed firmly behind Dustin, who took a few hesitant steps away. He quickly found himself being hastened down the hall. He was led into a newly occupied suite. The man who called himself Terhun muttered, “That was quick. Were they there?”
“Yes… all of them.”
“Excellent. Do you have any idea when they might be leaving the apartment?”
“No. But I have been invited to dinner tonight, with my Master.”
Terhun chuckled, “Then your Master shall join you. Fetch me a good cloak to hide my ears,” he said to one of his associates.
The other agent stammered, “Is that wise, sir?”
“You will have a full team outside. I will be safe enough.”
Dustin swallowed, having heard the emphasis on ‘full’ team. Who was this man that he commanded mages?
The aged elfblood could think of only one reason he would have left his sanctum in Lyai, unaided. But it was ludicrous. Was he not the dread lord’s most senior agent in Lyai? His task was to bring about the fall of the Lyai. And he nearly had on several occasions. The assassination of the Lyai’s father had been his greatest success, yet, the price he had to pay to accomplish it meant certain unpleasant choices had to be made. Those who knew his true name had no knowledge of his role in his Dark Master, the Demonlord’s plans, or his ambitions.
Why would his minions lie to him about this, unless they saw an opportunity to profit by it? He started to breathe heavily. Had they learned his true identity? Was this a gambit to pull him down, or did this foolishness give him an opportunity to advance his own ambitions? He suddenly shivered. Or had he held this position for but only a few moments before his predecessor’s existence ceased?
How could such a power exist? Not even in legend had he ever heard of such magery. It was a paradox.
Paradox, he suddenly thought and gaped. A paradox was in play. Such
power could defeat all his Master’s plans. But how? The only warning of unexplained events was his Master’s alerts to his minions that a human mage was on his way to the Empire. He had at first scoffed at the very idea, yet, the Demon Lord’s messages of warning had become more frequent and almost… dare he admit it… shrill of late.
Was the existence of a human mage, someone without elvin blood to work magery, the source of the paradox or but a symptom? He sat back and considered. If a paradox was a work, where was the earliest sign that the Demonlord’s plans were going awry? In frustration he tried to reason it out, but after hours had passed he could think of nothing.
Then go about it from another angle, he considered. Where would the Demonlord have had his greatest victories? Simple: prevent humanity from ever having come to profane this world. Too simple, he told himself, think in terms of the Empire. The Aqwaine Empress had risen to power and the Highmages had barred the former Elfking’s depredations on humanity. The current Highmage, Alrex, had not been seen in months. Some were saying he was dead or dying. Could that be a sham? Could he be here in Lyai? But if he could erase from existence, the Demon Lord’s minions, certainly the Empire would been doing something dramatic in the Northlands to protect kingdoms, such as Gwire, from falling. Gwire would soon be lost, heralding the beginning of the end in earnest.
What if the paradox went back even further? The previous Highmage had been so traditional and conservative t
hat he had helped cede chaos throughout the Empire, adjusting things more to the Demon Lord’s liking after that upstart, Faeryn, had brought new mageries to the Imperium. Now, Faeryn had been the most unlikely of choices for Highmage and his great battle against the Demon Lord had made him a legend. His followers were a constant nuisance to his task, particularly those secretly part of the Lyai’s Service.
To this day, the Demonlord railed against the very mention of the name Faeryn, claiming that the end should have come for humanity then and there. The aged elf shook his head. Faeryn had brought humanity a reprieve from oblivion. Was the paradox there? Had the final battle’s odds been changed? If so, how could he prove it?
Finding that answer would present certain problems, he could not trust
the learning of it to anyone else. Oh, my, could that have been it? But what proof that history had been changed could there be?
He left his sanctum and went to the Mage Guild. The old gate keeper opened the door and remarked in surprise about his presence. “Forgive me, but I thought you long since dead.”
The aged elf grinned wickedly, “Home for a visit.”
“Welcome, then...” A strange expression passed the old elf’s face, “Funny, I could have sworn someone else came here, some time ago, that I thought must be long dead as well. Ah, I remember now. It was Lord Erianda.”
“Erianda, you say?”
“Why, yes,” he stared back hard and raised his hand to his head. “I
am so sorry, Lord Erianda. I do not know why I said that. I must be
getting confused by the Great Enchantment.”
Lord Erianda stared back at him, struggling to keep the look of horror from his face. He suddenly remembered an old nightmare that had haunted him for many long years. In the dream he had a brother and remembered that his brother had killed him, as a boy, as an offering to the Demonlord.
Hastily, Erianda stalked off toward the Archives, wondering if he really wanted to know the truth.
Depicting Past from Present
Chapter 23
At the Sixth bell, their guests arrived. Dustin introduced his Master, Galt Faeryn. George welcomed the cloaked figure, then they sat about the table for dinner.
Terhun gently fingered his amulet and felt the reassuring contact with his mages outside. Should he need to do a parlor trick, they would help him. Should he find himself in trouble, the pair of them would deal with it, in ways that had been to the rue to the Demonlord’s minions in the past.
“Master Galt, Dustin is a very impressive young mage,” George stated.
The journeyman stammered, “Thank you, milord.”
His Master nodded, “He is a good lad and proven to be an apt pupil.”
“I must say, I have been very impressed with the Faeryn mages; although, I must admit that I have heard little of differences between mages.”
“Only two kinds of mages concern humanity, by–in–large, my dear sir; mages who serve the Empire and those who serve the Demonlord. The fact that a second, more practical, school of magery exists concerns few people in reality.”
Se’and frowned, “I am afraid that I do not quite understand, Master Galt... Do you imply that there are mages in the Empire who secretly serve the Dark One?”
The cowled figure sat back. “Sadly, I must admit that I believe so.”
“Here in the provincial capital?” George rasped, seemingly horrified at the thought.
Terhun smiled thinly, “One must be ever vigilante, my dear sir. We live in perilous times, always have. Imperial history is quite clear on that.”
George looked at his guest and noticed him glance over at the four rolled up tapestries. “Ah, Dustin has told you of the depictions, no doubt.”
“Most certainly; he was most concerned that his knowledge of history
was sorely lacking and asked me if I knew anything of interest, which could shed light on whether they depicted actual events or were mere fantasy.”
Se’and smiled, catching Je’orj’s gaze briefly. “It would be my pleasure to show them to you after we have finished dining.”
Dustin carefully swallowed, afraid he might otherwise choke. The triumph in Terhun’s voice seemed unmistakable. “I would appreciate that very much.”
The pair of “Service” scyers watched the scene through shallow bowls of water. Nothing seemed amiss as the dinner continued. The water uncharacteristically rippled, then steadied before either mage thought to adjust the spells. The sense of contact with Terhun continued unchanged with no sense of urgency or alarm. The scene dragged on as another course of food was presented. If anything, the image made the pair hungrier.
They would have been more concerned had they realized that their control had been usurped so effortlessly.
An image of them still eating played in the back of George Bradley’s lightly enrapport mind. His staff glowed very softly in the brightly lit room as he rose from the table; the room now passively warded by the computer staff. The image projected for scrying, prying mages.
His mage––posing guest was fascinating. Dustin’s anxiety was quite palpable and very helpful. His companion’s talisman echoed the man’s emotions. Staff scanned the enchantment. Mimicking its effects had proved a challenge.
Discerning whether ‘Master Galt’ was a friend or foe was a question even Dustin’s erratic thoughts left unclear. Yet, this man, Terhun, seemed professional. Se’and had nodded thoughtfully to him during the meal, indicating that he was well armed beneath his flowing robes.
George led his guests to the tapestries. Raven and Fri’il unrolled the top one. Terhun leaned forward to study it. “The colors are outstanding, just as Dustin said,” he commented, glancing at this young elfblood, who hastily smiled at the praise. “The scene would seem to depict Faeryn’s Battle in the Northlands.”
“Faeryn’s Battle?” Se’and muttered in surprise.
Terhun nodded, “See, here. Those dwarves in that infantry unit are
carrying the Aqwaine’s standard; very unique.” At her obvious incomprehension, he added, “The dwarves normally bear their liege’s standard, that of Tane. They certainly do in the more ancient battles. But in Faeryn’s time, well, you know what happened to Tane.”
Se’and shook her head, “I’m sorry, but I know little of Imperial history.”
Dustin nodded, “I had forgotten. You see, back then, dwarves found themselves bereft of their lord and followed Faeryn.”
“He became their patron in that dark time,” Terhun stated, the Service trained their agents well in Imperial history. “The last member of the old line of Tane was lost. His successors were not known for their fondness of their dwarven citizens.”
An image of the man in his youth, learning Imperial history came clearly to his mind. His tutors were hard men. They taught loyalty and honor, showing the young Terhun why the Service he would one day render was so important. Too much had already been lost and the Lyai and his family must be protected and nurtured in order to support mankind against the Demonlord––inspired enemies within the Empire.
George muttered, “Fascinating.” The man was an agent of the Lyai, her Imperial Majesty the Empress of Aqwaine’s cousin.
Terhun shook his head to clear it of the old memory as he looked more closely at the tapestry. “It is truly magnificent.”
Se’and replied, “I most heartily agree.”
Now why, Terhun wondered, would a mage be so interested in this particular scene? He casually dropped his hand to where the talisman lay. He emoted the question to his colleagues. When there was no response, he grew concerned and glanced up to see his host shake his head.
“I’m sorry, but I could not allow that.”
Questions and Magery
Chapter 24
Before Terhun could even draw his knife, he felt the dagger at his back. “I would not,” the servant, Farrel, warned.
Terhun grew still. “A dagger to a mage’s back seems rather short––sighted.”
Blanching, Dustin had turned to flee, but Raven was in his path. The look in the lad’s eyes was eerily feral. He sighed, “I had no choice.”
“Of course, you didn’t,” George replied. “You both can relax. We mean no harm to an agent of the Crown.” Fri’il’s eyebrows rose as she quickly glanced at the tense Se’and.
Terhun gaped, realizing that matters had gone from bad to worse. “I do not know what you are talking about.”
“Foreign merchants prefer making a profit. So I pay well to know things,” George replied. “Knowledge is power and power can mean profit… and profit often comes from the oddest sources.”
“You say that to a person you suspect is an agent of the Crown?”
“Suspect? No, only to an honorable man such as yourself. Oh, let’s sit back down. I believe you have a few questions you wish to ask. We will do our best to be helpful. But the answers may lead only to more questions that we may not be willing to answer.”
Terhun shook his head. This was not going the way it should at all. Yet, he could not pass up the opportunity. His people would surely figure out something had gone wrong soon enough, in any case. He moved to the couch and sat. “I certainly do have a few questions.”
George smiled. “Se’and, he is interested in the guest we had the other day. Do please tell him.”
She sighed, looking at her lord husband oddly, “As you wish. I was examining one of the tapestries, when a mage burst into the room. He attacked me with an enchantment of some kind which stunned me before I could react. As I lost consciousness it felt like I was falling into the battle the tapestry depicted, a scene of mages waging war on the Demonlord’s goblin army. After that I have no memory. Next thing I knew I awoke in bed with them hovering over me.”
Terhun asked, “When was this?”
“While Jeo and Farrel were accompanying Dustin to the Guilds.”