by D N Meinster
Aros took it and checked around. Though there was fire, there weren’t any parts to repair it, nor tools to aid in such a repair. He hadn’t really done any metalwork since he’d left Kytheras. “Well…”
She snatched it back from him. “That’s what I thought.”
“Wait!” Aros yelled as an idea came to him. “You can shift. Take it to my mentor in Kytheras.”
“And leave you behind?”
“Best time to do it, while we’ve got the numbers.”
M’dalla wasn’t able to argue with that. “Where can I find him?”
“He’s in Bread Peddler’s district. His name is Ratch. Big fellow with a massive beard. He’s hard to miss. Tell him Aros sent you.”
Aros would be glad to get word to him that he was still alive. And by telling him, his mother would find out as well. He hadn’t thought of her a lot recently, but he missed her and he missed home. Once they got the remaining Keys, would they be going back?
M’dalla stood back up. “Don’t die while I’m gone.” With a spin, she shifted to Kytheras.
Aros was mildly jealous that she’d get to see Ratch and he wouldn’t.
“Where is she off to?” Loraya asked.
“Kytheras,” Aros answered.
“That’s probably where we should go,” Loraya stated. She considered bringing up what she’d thought of the previous night, but she wasn’t ready to abandon her homeland yet. Apparently, the rest of the Revolutionaries didn’t feel the same.
Jemmy made his way over to her and Aros. He looked as if he’d aged years since she’d last seen him. His hair was grayer and frayed. His eyes were more bloodshot than they’d ever been. “We’re considering splitting up. Maybe we’ll try another revolt in a couple decks. Or maybe it’s time to move on and accept this new Terrastream.”
“Never,” Loraya mutedly replied before shouting it. “Never! You want to give up?” she asked, walking away from him and between the remnants of warriors finishing their meal. “So, you want my brothers’ sacrifices to be for nothing? You don’t care that Skiff died. You don’t care that Nott died. You just don’t want to be like them, is that it?”
One was brave enough to reply, “Yeah!”
Loraya took her arrow and shot the tip of his ear off. There was a single gasp and no one else moved. “Are we cowards now? Is that it? Have we let Kahar steal our courage as well? Terrastream is not his! It is ours! It belongs to all of us! Every tribe! Every creature! It doesn’t have a king. That throne is as fraudulent as the keep that he’s built. The Enduring Mountains may bow to his will, but we won’t. We are the last true Streamers! And we will fight until death! Won’t we?”
“Yes!” the Revolutionaries screamed in near unison.
“Won’t we!” Loraya yelled back.
They all got to their feet and raised their blades and spears out in front of them. Even Aros had his clawblades out and ready.
And it was for the best that she’d gotten them all to withdraw their weapons, for that was when the Hunters arrived.
Chapter Twenty-One
Five Keys
10 D.R.
Hatswick held his trilby hat over the lower half of his face. The soot and must made it almost impossible to breathe in the undersized cabin. Yet somehow Amelia was managing just fine. She could’ve waited to summon him until the task was done. He didn’t need to be there, watching in this heat.
The blacksmith’s fires raged as he molded the silver into exotic shapes. The Five Keys would be a unique set, meant to close something that had yet to exist. Was she meaning to create that now as well, or would they wait until the heart of the battle? It might be more sensible to hold off, since neither knew if they were a match for the Divine Corruption. However, he would not be the one to make that decision. Like everything else, it would be up to the Grand Mage.
Grand Mage? More like King. Amelia was the one calling the shots, while Shine went along with whatever she requested. What a pathetic leader Aergo’s son turned out to be. He was nothing like the Great Unifier. Any victory that might come would have to be credited to Amelia. She was the one that had the plans and the will to see them through. Shine only had a name and an inherited title.
As a bead of sweat made it down Hatswick’s forehead, he decided he’d had enough waiting around inside. He promptly spun about and exited the cabin. The cool breeze was a welcome relief as it blew in from the sea. Hatswick lowered his trilby and gratefully sucked in the fresh air.
Amelia stepped outside a minute later. “He’ll be finished shortly.”
“That’s when I should’ve arrived.” Hatswick placed his trilby back atop his head. “I didn’t need to watch.”
“My apologies,” Amelia replied. “I may have overestimated your interest in blacksmithing.”
“How many decades have we known each other?” Hatswick asked. “When did I ever show an interest?” He tugged at the sleeves of his black cloak, which were clinging to the perspiration on his arms.
Amelia’s smirk further irritated Hatswick. “We’re doing all of this together, my friend.”
At least she recognized she needed him for this task. For once, Amelia knew she couldn’t do something by herself. The only question was, “Will it work?”
“If we do it right,” Amelia replied.
“Well, it does seem easier than bringing the High Council to agreement.”
“A feat I accomplished yesterday,” Amelia stated apprehensively.
“Preventing them from trying to kill each other for a whole meeting doesn’t count as agreement.” Hatswick had begun to enjoy attending the High Council meetings as a spectator. The Guardians and the General Commander seemed to be in constant conflict. And he remembered when the General Commander barely spoke each session. As the time for an invasion approached, the squabbling had only gotten worse.
“I disagree,” Amelia responded. “And I’m certain when they’re on the field of battle, they’ll work together.”
“Optimist,” Hatswick grumbled.
“You were too, once,” Amelia replied.
Hatswick hardly remembered a time when he was naïve enough to count on positive outcomes. Perhaps it had only been when Aergo was alive. “I trust the Ifta turncoats more than I do our own people. What does that tell you?”
“They don’t have a choice,” Amelia went on. “They’ll all be fighting side-by-side in less than a deck.”
The blacksmith emerged from the cabin. He was a giant of a man, twice as wide as the two mages and towering over them. His red beard was a curly mess that descended half his chest. The rest of his face, including his shaved head, was stained by the work he’d been doing for them. In his hands was a rolled up gray sheet.
“They’re ready,” Raust Skrell informed them.
Amelia held out her hands and Raust lowered the sheet into her grasp.
“They’ll do everything you asked, provided you enchant them right,” Raust said in a throaty growl.
Hatswick glared at the Grand Mage. Did she intend to do more with them than lock the Door?
“Thank you,” she said, bringing the bundle against her chest.
“I don’t mean to doubt you,” Raust added. “I’ve seen what you’ve been doing with the shields and swords we’ve been making.”
The Grand Mage had been enchanting the newly forged weapons so that they’d be unbreakable. Hatswick probably would’ve been capable of such magic as well, but no one had asked for his assistance and he offered none in return. If Amelia thought she could enchant every weapon in the Twilight Isles, then let her.
Raust returned to his cabin, leaving Hatswick alone with Amelia.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Here?” he replied.
She shook her head. “Not here.”
“Oh.” Hatswick knew what that meant. She wanted to go back to the mainland. She wanted to create the new plane of existence right now. “Where?”
“Just outside the Kytheran border,” Amelia re
plied.
“Don’t you think we might be noticed?” he asked. It was already past dusk, and though he didn’t know what creating a whole plane might look like, he figured it could be intense and draw attention to them.
“A fog will hide our activities,” Amelia said before she began to fade away.
Hatswick had spent so much time on the mainland in recent years that going there had become a trite exercise. He was not as excited about the coming invasion as everyone else, nor did he look forward to the work that they’d have to do should they be victorious. The Kytheras they left was not the same one they’d be going back to. Neanthal had irrevocably altered it.
Amelia should have deferred to him on this decision. She wasn’t the one that spent her days spying on Thalian activities. He knew an obscure weather event might be noticed, be it an unexpected flash of light or a dense fog. The demibeasts roamed freely and reported anything atypical to the Ifta, who seemed to understand their yapping and snarling. And then there were the humans that gained favor with their overlords by reporting anything suspicious, even if it might lead to the execution of their neighbor. It was the sin mages, though, that were most unpredictable. They’d shift randomly to detect abnormalities, likely on Neanthal’s order. Simply because they were down one did not mean they should be underestimated.
After all this time in exile, Amelia still considered herself unbeatable, maybe even immortal. The way she could heal herself might lend credence to such a fallacy of thought, if there wasn’t so clearly someone finally more powerful than her in Kytheras. Neanthal could best them, if he showed up. Hatswick was certain of it. Maybe Amelia wasn’t aware that she was only second-best now. Or maybe she couldn’t accept it. Her lack of precaution made such arrogance all the more obvious.
Hatswick began to fade from the island, his hands gripped tightly on his staff as he readied for battle. When he had finished shifting to Kytheras’ border, he could see only the dense fog the Grand Mage had conjured up.
“We shouldn’t dally,” Amelia whispered into his ear.
Hatswick jumped and nearly smacked the spherical top of his staff into her.
“Easy, Hatswick,” she said, and the fog parted so he could see her.
“They’ll investigate this,” Hatswick warned.
“Precisely why we must hurry,” Amelia said, and she unfurled the rolled-up sheet and bounced the Keys into the air.
Instead of falling, the Keys hung between the two mages, all five frozen in midair. They sparkled, even in the low light, their intricate bodies on display like works of art.
“Do as I do,” Amelia said, and the channeling crystal nestled between the wings on her staff began to glow. The white light shot out from the staff like a fountain, swallowing the Keys.
While Hatswick’s own crystal began to glow, the beams from Amelia’s narrowed, until it appeared as if the Keys were enmeshed in a luminous rope. Hatswick ejected his own light from his staff, and it intertwined with hers and entangled the Keys until neither light was distinguishable from the other.
Amelia placed her palm onto the crystal, and the light immediately turned a deep shade of crimson. The Keys were bound in red and white radiance until Hatswick followed Amelia’s example. As the light became solely red, so did the Keys appear to become red as well.
Amelia ripped off her necklace and tossed it into the air, where it remained hovering.
“Take my hand,” she instructed Hatswick.
The fog was unable to mask Hatswick’s disgust with the request. He stared at her outstretched fingers as they awaited his compliance. They’d never so much as hugged in the past. Why did he have to touch her now? It felt belittling, like he was a child that couldn’t make it far on his own.
“Hatswick,” Amelia pleaded.
Hatswick took a breath and laid the tips of his fingers onto her own. She tightened onto his hand and then directed her staff at the floating necklace. Hatswick did the same.
The crimson light tore away from the Keys and streamed into the crystal on her necklace.
“A new plane,” Amelia stated.
“A new plane,” Hatswick repeated.
A luminous red shot out from the back of the necklace, sweeping through the fog until it completely ate away their remaining cover. The very air seemed to tremble as an earsplitting screech echoed through it. The ground followed suit, and Hatswick spread his legs apart to try and keep from falling over.
The crystal on Amelia’s necklace shone brighter than any he’d ever seen. And when all he could see around him was an intense white, Amelia finally pulled her hand away from his.
Their vicinity once again succumbed to the darkness of night. Amelia’s necklace fell silently to the ground, though Hatswick could barely make it out or anything else beyond the spots in front of his eyes.
“We can’t let him see until it’s time,” Amelia said.
“See what?” Hatswick asked, rubbing at his eyes.
Amelia held out her arm, indicating what she was referring to.
Hatswick held his eyes wide open and tried to get a glance at what she was indicating. Right behind where the necklace lay was a door of immense size. It appeared to be meant for a giant, as it was nearly twenty feet high, with vertical carvings etched into the white wood. No, not a giant. A beast.
Amelia’s necklace zoomed from the ground straight into her hand. She pointed the channeling crystal at the Door, and it began to camouflage itself with the environment. When it was completely invisible, Amelia dropped her arm to her side and let out a deep breath. The Grand Mage had exhausted herself.
Hatswick gaped at her, almost unable to believe what they’d just accomplished. Behind that door was another kingdom of a sort; a prison made for one. It was both part of Ghumai and completely separate. From the other side, there’d be only one way back, and a locked door would block that way.
Three Keys floated into Amelia’s possession. The other two she sent to Hatswick.
“Keep them safe,” she said.
Hatswick snatched the two Keys and stuffed them into his cloak. “We should go,” he said, expecting Thalians to show up at any moment. The process for creating a new plane of existence had not been subtle.
Amelia nodded. “Rest up. The war begins anew within days.” With that, she shifted away.
Hatswick took a final look at the spot he knew the Door was waiting and shifted as well.
Hatswick’s room on the Twilight Islands was an exact replica of his room in Castle Tornis, complete with dark stone walls and a discomforting chill. He didn’t understand why he was the only mage to make his new home exactly like his old one. Surely, they had the ability to do so. Was he the only one that missed the castle?
Yes, the Twilight Isles were warmer with a more relaxed atmosphere. He even recalled King Aergo’s love of his family’s retreats to the islands. But it was too different from Kytheras to ever get used to. He wanted the same circular bed that occupied most of the free space in the room. He wanted the same body-length mirror hanging from the wall. He wanted a sand-free stone floor and rack for him to set his hat onto at night. So, he’d recreated it all. Every detail.
As he stared at himself in the mirror, he wondered what became of the original objects back in Castle Tornis. Was someone else living in his quarters? One of the Sinful Three? Or had they left them isolated, with his old possessions gathering layers of dust? After all the time he spent spying on his old home, he’d never checked.
Hatswick picked up a razor and began to cut away at his overgrown beard. He hadn’t paid much concern to his personal appearance since he’d spent most of his days invisible. The only time he was ever really seen was during High Council meetings, but those appearances were so brief it wasn’t worth the effort to shave.
However, they were about to go back to Kytheras, and he wanted to look good for the return trip. He wasn’t about to wage war looking like some bum from the Outer.
Hatswick left a thin mustache and goatee on his fac
e, and then he tossed his trilby on his bed and sliced away chunks of his hair. By the time he was done, he looked almost exactly like he had ten years prior, with a little extra hair on his chin and a new cloak. And he wasn’t about to change this one. He actually liked it better than his old yellow one. It better matched the black staff he carried, with golden symbols ornamenting its winding frame. His hat also seemed like it was meant to be paired with the gold-trimmed attire. And with a tap of his staff, the outfit looked brand new.
He was ready for battle; ready to put this decade behind him. As he reached for the Keys within his cloak, he heard someone clear their throat from behind him. He froze and slowly turned around. He was expecting Amelia or some other mage, but that’s not who it was.
King Aergo was sitting on his bed, holding Hatswick’s trilby in his hands. The King looked exactly as he had on the day of his death, bedecked in green armor engraved with the multibranched T symbol of the Five Kingdoms. His face was tan with life, and his hair was the same flowing silver Hatswick often saw in his memories and dreams. Only his eyes were different. In place of the light gray eyes mixed with dark spires, there were irises of fire.
“Neanthal,” Hatswick muttered, sneering at the intruder.
“Do I look like Neanthal?” Aergo asked, standing up and facing Hatswick.
“Don’t act like I’m unfamiliar with magic.”
“You are clever,” Aergo said, and he stepped closer. “Clever enough to be the Grand Mage.” He reached out and placed the trilby back on Hatswick’s head.
“You dishonor him,” Hatswick growled.
“This is not for him,” Aergo said. “It’s for you. A preview of what I can do.”
Hatswick kept himself steady with his staff. “Leave. Now.”
“I can,” Aergo replied. “But is that what you really want? I don’t believe it is. I know what you really want.” He moved even closer.
“Stop,” Hatswick ordered. He cautiously tilted his staff toward the impostor.
Aergo let out a laugh that was not his own. “Magenine will keep Aergo in Her Bastion. You’ll never see him for the rest of your days. I can change that. I’m willing to change that. Join me and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”