by Andrew Rowe
“I thought of that, and there isn’t really a much better location. I can’t exactly bring you to the paladin headquarters, and I sincerely doubt that wherever you’re staying is secure.”
That’s an understatement.
“All right, fair enough. But I’ll keep it in broad terms. I don’t want anyone overhearing us and piecing together secrets of world-shaking scale.”
Lydia gave a scoffing chuckle. “There’s no need to be so dramatic. No one is going to be able to do anything with that information without the sufficient context to know what we’re talking about.”
“You’re more right than you realize.” He took a breath. “We had only scratched the surface of understanding Donovan’s research when we confronted him.”
She reached upward with a slender hand, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “Go on.”
“Well, you remember those strange words that Edon was using for his spells? I think each word – possibly each syllable, really – corresponds to some sort of function. I don’t want to go so far as to say the sounds have intrinsic meaning, although they might, but something is capable of interpreting them and producing results.”
This explanation wasn’t completely new – they had speculated the possibility when they had confronted Donovan, even though it sounded completely contrary to typical sorcerous theory.
“Right, but we’ve both tried using the same words he did. Repeatedly, in my case.” Her lips contorted in frustration. “They don’t do anything on their own.”
“That’s where I’ve made a bit of progress. Do you still have the ring he was wearing, and that gemstone?”
The question was a probe for information, but it was only fair – what she was asking him about was even more valuable.
The knowledge sorceress nodded. “Yes, and I’ve spent some time studying them. Initially, I thought the ring was the power source for those unusual flame spells both he and Veruden were capable of using, but the phrase he used doesn’t activate the ring like I expected it would.”
“That,” Jonan smirked, “Is because he was changing the function of the ring.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“So, remember when we talked about the marks on artifacts potentially corresponding to different words or concepts? Edon realized that if he could connect with an artifact, he could add additional words to change or activate a specific function.”
“Like adding keys to a dominion sorcery spell...” Lydia nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“That’s the point of all those dominion marks he was putting on Veruden – and, presumably, on himself. When one of them activated a dominion mark, it would send a command to an artifact the mark was linked to. Their words would determine the exact function. It’s possible the marks even sent some sort of default message if they were silent - the notes in the journal were not that specific.”
Lydia turned her eyes skyward. “So, if we wanted to create the same effects, we’d need to be able to create identical bonds to the ones he did – meaning we’d need access to the same artifacts, and to know exactly how the marks were constructed – and then use the exact same words. That sounds somewhat challenging.”
He was tempted to tell her about the freshly-burned mark on his right bicep, currently concealed beneath his nondescript brown tunic, but he decided against it. She had probably been bright enough to guess that he had stolen the Heartlance after their confrontation with Donovan, but she didn’t need to know that he was able to tap into its abilities. She already knew far more of his secrets than he was comfortable with.
“Yes,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “But not impossible. I believe I have sufficient notes to attempt making a mark corresponding to the ring you have, but I do not have the resources.”
“Dominion essence corresponding to the dominion of the artifact, I assume?” Lydia asked in a rhetorical tone. “I could probably arrange for that. Provided you’re putting the mark on me, of course.”
He nodded affirmatively. “That would be acceptable. I think we could gain some valuable information from testing the interactions between a mark and that ring. Donovan’s notes were impressive, but not exhaustive. And, as you suspected when we last discussed this, I believe he was expanding his vocabulary of terms that the artifacts recognized with each one that he studied. If you could convince Taelien to let us study the Sae’kes—”
Lydia folded her arms, tilting her head downward with a frustrated expression.
Jonan raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I had to ask. You Sytirans do love knowledge, so I thought...”
“Studying a sacred artifact amongst our own is one thing. I like you, Jonan, but you are literally a spy for a foreign government.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, when you put it that way...”
“If I asked you to loan me Vaelien’s personal weapon for some research, how would you react?”
Jonan scratched at his chin. “With amusement, really. I mean, do you really think I’d have any access to that? It’s not really a comparable scenario.”
“Fine, fine. But it does sound ridiculous, right?”
“Well, if I did have access to it, I would try to at least entertain the idea.”
Lydia sighed. “Ultimately, it’s up to Salaris, but I’d advise him against it.”
Jonan furrowed his brow. “Salaris? I’ve never heard you call Taelien that before.”
“I’ve had to get into the habit. Calling himself Taelien was one thing in Orlyn, but here, it’s more than a little presumptuous.”
Their mutual friend had always referred to himself as Taelien, as long as Jonan could remember – it was the title of the sacred weapon he carried. Taking a title as a personal name wasn’t exactly uncommon, but since the sword was a key element of the Tae’os religion, using the name in a Tae’os worshipping city was essentially telling people he was a messenger of the gods.
Which, given the swordsman’s capabilities, Jonan suspected might actually be the case. He had watched bouts between some of the most skilled fighters in Selyr, and less than a handful of them came close to Taelien’s raw speed or strength. And that wasn’t even accounting for his ability to manipulate metal, which was so useful in a sword fight it seemed almost unfair.
He had only heard the name “Salaris” – which was apparently Taelien’s actual birth name – thrown around once or twice. The swordsman didn’t seem particularly fond of it.
“I guess I’ll keep that in mind if I run into him. Is he going to be in on whatever you called me here for? I’m sure you didn’t ask me to come out to Velthryn just to discuss Donovan’s notes, as interesting as they might be.”
“You’re right, I did have another reason for talking to you. A more immediate concern than the notes, although I don’t think you should underestimate my interest in them. An entirely new method of casting spells could have the potential to reshape our society.”
Jonan waved his hand dismissively. He was well aware of the vast potential behind this Donovan’s discovery – a concept he was calling ‘artifact sorcery’ in his mind – and that potential was exactly why he didn’t intend to share the full extent of what he knew with anyone, even Lydia.
More dreadfully, he also knew that Donovan’s research partner – a sorceress named Morella – most likely understood the concepts even more intimately than he did, and that she was more than likely currently plotting her revenge against everyone who had been involved in Donovan’s downfall. Taelien, Lydia, and Jonan were probably among the top entries in that list.
“Yes, yes, sorcery is important. What’s this more immediate concern?”
“Well,” her lips twisted into a frown, “A young man was murdered.”
Murders happen all the time. Normal people should look disturbed at a revelation like this, however.
Jonan gave his best simulation of a sympathetic frown.
“Go on.”
“About a week ago, a young woman came
to the Paladins of Tae’os asking for a healer. She said her brother was bleeding from several places, and she suspected a sorcerous cause. My partner, Aladir Ta’thyriel, was the first to make it to the scene. I can say without exaggeration that Aladir is the most powerful life sorcerer I have ever encountered. His ministrations – up to and including multiple Spark of Life spells - had no effect.”
Spark of Life was one of the most powerful known spells in all of dominion sorcery. It was a way of forcing a mortally injured body to restart its essential functions. Laymen often confused it for being a resurrection spell, but Jonan knew it was merely a potent measure for treating life-threatening injuries.
If administered quickly enough, it could reportedly even restart the beating of a failed heart, but Jonan had never personally confirmed that. He had never met a life sorcerer even remotely close to powerful enough to cast it, let alone more than once.
“Did your partner survive the attempt?” He asked without thinking, contemplating the costs on the body of such an effort.
Lydia nodded. “Yes, but he’s still recovering. I arrived to find him still trying, but the victim was clearly beyond saving. To save you a longer story, I investigated the scene and discovered a trail of dominion essence of poison.”
“Ah, yes. Life sorcery wouldn’t do much for poison. Water would be better for that.” He realized after speaking that his commentary might have come across as rude or dismissive of the efforts of Lydia’s partner, but she simply nodded to acknowledge the point.
“I followed the trail and found a ritually-marked area. It was designed as a two-way portal, marked with the largest piece of dominion essence of poison I’ve ever seen. I say ‘piece’ in the literal sense – it was solid, like a stone.”
Jonan quirked a brow at that. Dominion essence usually was conjured in the natural state of the plane it originated from – for example, dominion essence of stone was solid, and dominion essence of water was liquid. The Dominion of Poison had both liquid and gaseous locations that sorcerers could draw from, but no locations that were solid. That meant that someone had to convert gaseous or liquid essence into a solid, which was tricky business.
Converting dominion essence from one state to another was something of a hobby of his – which helped explain at least part of why Lydia had called on him. She probably didn’t think he was a suspect – she hadn’t known he was already in the city.
Or had she? Could she have discovered me somehow? Perhaps she made a spell to measure the current distance between our mirrors – it wouldn’t be impossible...
Gods, I’m getting paranoid in my old age.
In Jonan’s case, “old age” meant almost twenty-two.
“So, you want me to take a look at the stone for you?”
She shook her head. “No, that wasn’t the idea, although if you could glean something from it we can look into that. I’m going to be very busy between trying to investigate this murder and protecting the remaining members of the family.”
“You think the killer might strike again?”
Lydia shrugged. “We don’t know anything about the killer’s motives – except the identity of the victim. Kalsiris Theas.”
“Theas? Like, as in, related to Edrick Theas?”
“His son.”
Jonan let out a string of curses. Lydia blinked rapidly, appearing confused by the display.
“You’re sure you want to get involved in this, Lydia? Edrick Theas – he’s a powerful man. He probably has the resources to handle this himself.”
And, more importantly, anyone willing to pick a fight with Edrick Theas is either colossally stupid or extraordinarily powerful. Given Jonan’s luck, it was more likely to be the latter.
“That’s precisely the problem. Edrick isn’t in the city right now. And Nakane – that’s his daughter – is fairly certain that this will end badly if he returns before we find the culprit.”
Jonan tightened his jaw. “Well, that’s just lovely.”
“Will you help me?”
An assassin killing high profile targets? That could be the same man that Rialla wants me to look for. Or we could just have two extremely dangerous assassins loose in Velthryn – that’d be even better.
The scribe pressed two fingers of his left hand against his forehead, anticipating the beginnings of a murderous headache. “Of course. Where do we start?”
Chapter X – Velas IV – The Subtleties of Conversation
On the morning after Velas completed her first test, she found a note in her bed. This was more than slightly disconcerting, given that whoever had placed it had been subtle enough to avoid waking her.
The contents of the note were more worrisome.
Fellow soldier,
I saw your signal. Your presence here was not anticipated. Cannot make open contact; on discrete assignment. Expect significant collateral damage. Advise you to withdraw from paladin trials; potentially lethal danger if you remain active.
Apologies; will not contact again.
-S
Velas carefully destroyed the note, keeping a single shred of it - a section marked with a few letters – for the possibility of using it with tracking spells or attempting to match the writing. Landen had the easiest access to drop something in her bed, since he shared her bunk, but she doubted he had written the note. Neither the shape of the letters nor the terse style matched his writing.
The obvious answer was Sterling, since she had sent him a signal before – but that didn’t mean he had been the one that had actually seen it. Given that the writer was insistent on not making open contact, she would have to investigate discretely or risk angering her new contact.
The letter referred to her simply as a “soldier”, which implied the writer didn’t know who she was. That was potentially a positive sign. Unfortunately, the signature itself was too vague to give her any additional hints toward the identity of the writer.
The overt warning within the letter was a dangerous sign. Whoever had recognized her sign was most likely affiliated with either the Thieves Guild of Velrya or the Thornguard. Both organizations had a history of small conflicts with the Paladins of Tae’os, but she was not aware of any recent changes that would trigger “lethal danger” to paladin candidates.
Can I warn an officer somehow without making myself a suspect?
Probably not. And I won’t be in any position to help my friends if I’m arrested – or if I leave.
Velas bit her lower lip, frustrated. I need to figure out who sent this and pry for more information. I can’t protect anyone with so little knowledge of whatever this impending doom might be.
She didn’t even consider dropping out of the exams – it wasn’t an option. She did, however, spend some time during the following week making preparations for several potential scenarios.
If I see any hints of danger, I’ll tell Lan and Sal immediately. One of them can convey the message to an officer if necessary without referencing me as a source. Lan knows how to keep his mouth shut, at least. Sal …maybe less so. Shame, since putting Lydia on this might actually be a good idea, if it wasn’t so likely to get me into trouble.
For the next week, each of other the cadets underwent their first test, sworn to secrecy until the final applicant had completed it. They quickly fell into a routine of physical training in the mornings, classes in the afternoons, and combat exercises in the early evenings. It was relatively light training by Velas’ standards, containing little of the psychological conditioning that most traditional military training entailed.
The former Queensguard guessed that this was most likely because, like her, most of the other candidates already had some degree of existing military training. The conditioning exercises seemed to be more about gauging the current condition of the candidates than molding them into shape, and the combat exercises were more about team building than general discipline. The most important step of the process was clearly the testing, which was geared toward disqualifying anyone who didn
’t fit with the organization.
And thus, by the end of the first week, the twelve original platoon members in Platoon 2 had dwindled to nine. Unsurprisingly, Taelien and Landen had made the cut, as had the strange Delaren girl. In spite of the restrictions on discussing test results, rumors were already rapidly spreading that Taelien had come a hand’s breadth away from failure.
With the first week completed and the tests finally done, the applicants had finally been given permission to discuss the details of their own tests. A score sheet had been posted on the wall of each of the Platoon Barracks, and Velas had been amused by the results. She mentally noted the rankings of the people who interested her.
The public rankings used a letter code, although she suspected that the paladin candidates were actually being given a numeric ranking that was being kept hidden to help foster more speculation and competition. The key indicated that the passing rankings normally went from “A” to “C”, with “S” being a rarer notation for exceptional performance. Rank “D” represented a failing grade for a particular test. There were no listings of “D” at this state – anyone who scored that low early on was simply disqualified outright. She suspected that “D” ranks might be allowed to progress in later exams if their aggregate score was sufficiently high, but she wasn’t certain.
Keldyn Andys – Rank A. Unsurprising, given his reputation.
Susan Crimson – Rank C. Apparently military strategy isn’t her strength.
Asphodel – Rank A. Apparently she’s got a good head on her shoulders.
The Wandering War – Rank A. Apparently his name is applicable to wartime strategy.
Jonathan Sterling – Rank B. Interesting. I expected him to perform better.
Velas Jaldin – Rank A. That’s a relief. Looks like I evaluated the situation correctly.
Salaris – Rank C. Ouch. Sal is going to need to pick up the pace.
Terras – Rank B. Not bad. B is probably a pretty typical passing score.