“And light will prevail,” Hugo finished. “I can see why you don’t like that option.”
To Hugo’s surprise, Shael chuckled. “It is not what you think.” He waved a hand in frustration. “You will understand when you see the path clearly. It must not be taken. It’s that simple. The world as we know it would be over. What would the power of light be in a world without true darkness? It would be like food in a world without hunger. Sleep without weariness, right without wrong. The beauty of light itself would be lost, Hugo.” He winked. “Opposition, Hugo. Contrast, my boy. That is what makes the world worth living in. You, me. Light, dark. We need each other to have meaning. But I waste too many words on lofty concepts.” He sighed. “The fact of the matter is, down one path, light wins, but balance is tipped, and you”—he leaned across the table and poked Hugo in the chest—”are destroyed. That is the path of annihilation.”
Hugo rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to regain his composure. There was a ring of truth to the words that he had just heard. The light writhing within himself recognized them as true. It made him uncomfortable, especially since that truth was coming from such an untrustworthy source. Still, he could tell he didn’t have the whole picture yet. Something was missing. He cleared his throat.
“And the other path?” he asked.
Shael’s eyes brightened, but his face remained grave. “The other path is the one that your predecessors took.”
“Well, that doesn’t bode well, does it?” Hugo said indignantly. “Seeing as how they all failed and died. With your help, by the way.”
Shael twirled his beard in an amused fashion. “Bold, Hugo, saying things like that here, under my roof, under my power…but no matter. You are correct, more or less. They took the path, and they failed. But I believe they failed because they did not truly understand the choice that they had made.”
“Educate me, then,” Hugo said, leaning back and reaching for the food again.
Shael nodded. “The second path is the path of balance. It is a hard road to take, a confusing road, because it isn’t going anywhere.”
Hugo frowned. “What do you mean it isn’t going anywhere?”
Shael chuckled. “You don’t see it yet? I mean that there is nothing to fix, Hugo. Haven’t you been listening to me? Light and dark were meant to live in opposition. There is no peace to be found. No balance to be struck…” He closed his eyes, and Hugo felt another mind tugging at the corner of his own. The sensation was not unlike Brinley calling to him from afar, except that this mind was different—unflinching, wild, complicated. It was Shael’s mind.
“Have you named it yet?” Shael said. “The darkness?”
“Molad,” Hugo said before he could stop himself. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t. He wasn’t sure why. It was just a name, after all.
Shael rolled it over a few times slowly. “Molad. Molad. Yes. A good choice.” He leaned forward again. “What I am saying is that you will never conquer Molad, and he will never conquer you.” He rose from his seat and clapped his hands again. Servants came and cleared away the food and brought more wine. Shael whispered to one of them and the servant brought out a thin rectangular stone tablet and a velvet bag. Shael indicated the table, and the servant set them there with a bow before disappearing.
“Do you know how to play Dominion?” Shael asked. “It is a favorite pastime of mine.”
Hugo nodded and poured the playing pieces onto the table as Shael set up the board. Perfectly smooth stones, white on one side and black on the other, skittered onto the surface between them, and Hugo pushed half of them toward his opponent.
“I will be black,” Shael said.
Hugo set up the starting stones and then placed his first piece. While he worked, Shael raised a hand and a servant brought him a small tray with an apple on it, which he bit into. The game proceeded rapidly, and Hugo could tell that Shael had the upper hand. Dominion was all about strategy. That’s what he loved about it, white capturing black and turning black to white. Black recapturing. The point of the game was to have more of your color face up at the end. Captures were made by surrounding opposing pieces with your own, which allowed you to flip them over and change them to your own color. Thus huge portions of the board could change in a single move, and it often wasn’t over until the last piece was cast. Dominion was never boring.
“You see, Hugo,” Shael said. “Black struggles against white. White struggles against black. Both seek domination. But the fact remains that they are two sides of the same coin. Two halves of the same game. The game itself is already in balance. So too with life. Do you see what I am saying?” Shael placed a black tile that surrounded several of Hugo’s and captured five stones. He took another bite of apple, closing his eyes to savor the taste.
“But I thought I was supposed to find the balance,” Hugo protested. He made a magnificent move and placed a corner piece. It would be impossible for Shael to capture it later.
Shael nodded. “Something is out of balance, but it’s not what you think.” He placed another piece and turned an entire line of Hugo’s stones to black on the other side of the board. Hugo felt his mind go numb, the way it always did in his lessons when the answer was right in front of him but he couldn’t see it.
“You’ve seen it before with games,” Shael went. “The game is always in balance. As in life, it matters little what moves you make, what side you play on. Every piece has its role. It is so simple, and yet the whole point of the game—to have fun—is often thwarted by something that is out of balance.” Shael placed another piece, and Hugo could see that he was about to lose.
“The people playing the game,” Hugo said. There was only one move left for him to make. It didn’t gain him anything, but there were no other options. Shael had forced his hand.
Shael smiled. “Precisely.” He placed his final stone and the game was over. The board was covered in black, the only exception being Hugo’s one, cleverly placed corner piece. Shael looked at him critically. “Are you disappointed that you lost?”
“No,” Hugo said honestly.
Shael nodded. “You are an accomplished player. I expect that you have won many games, and that you have lost even more while you were learning. You are as used to losing as you are to winning. You don’t take it too seriously.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Hugo hadn’t lost in quite some time, but he got the point. “It is the players that move out of balance,” He guessed. “They forget the game is just a game, and they stop having fun.”
Shael placed a hand on his shoulder. “Herein lies your power to change the world, Hugo. Come to peace with the game in your own mind. Realize that there is nothing wrong with the struggle between good and evil, light and dark. Realize that it matters less what piece you play, what roles you embrace, what moves you make, as long as you enjoy the game. End the resistance. Then the peace that you find within will spread to the whole world. That is your power as a mage.”
“And the struggle between light and darkness will continue,” Hugo said.
Shael shrugged. “Light and dark will always struggle against each other. It is the struggling against the struggle—fighting the inevitable—that so drains the human soul. You can heal this in the world. That is your power.”
“So I end the struggle by not ending the struggle?” Hugo said, almost laughing. “I make peace by forcing everyone to be at peace with a world at war?”
Shael grinned and began setting up the game again. “Precisely.”
Hugo stood and flung the board across the room. It cracked against the stone floor and the pieces scattered and bounced and rolled. Shael sat frozen, staring at the place on the table where the game had been, and they both listened to the sound of a single, solitary stone still rolling around the perimeter of the room, perfectly balanced on edge. Finally, there was silence.
“You’re insane,” Hugo whispered. “I won’t play your game.”
Shael tapped a finger against the table, a
nd spoke slowly. “I think you will find that easier said than done.” He clapped his hands and the large doors at the end of the room sprung open. Two of the strange black-feathered guards marched in, carrying Cannon between them. He struggled and kicked his legs, but they just lifted him higher into the air. “Let me down, you birdbrained brutes!” he shouted. “Oh. Hello, Hugo.”
“Charming of you to bring a friend along,” Shael said flatly, rising to his feet. Then he barked at Cannon, “On your knees!”
When Cannon didn’t obey, the guards forced him down, and he grunted as his knees struck stone.
Hugo felt himself tense. It had seemed like a game up to this point, hardly even real, like a dream, but now that he had come to the end of it he found himself resisting. Molad sensed his unease and twitched restlessly in the back of his mind.
Shael pushed the table aside slowly and moved so that he was almost nose to nose with Hugo. He reached for Hugo’s sword and drew it slowly from its scabbard. “I have been patient,” he said. “I have fed you, and sat with you, and reasoned with you, and let you insult me, but my good humor is at an end. You forget that you are only one half of the coin. I had hoped that you would be able to see reason. That I would not have to force you. This endless struggle is what will destroy you in the end, but perhaps you need a break.”
He held up his hand in front of Hugo’s face and made a pulling motion. At the same time, Hugo felt Molad’s strength and resolve swell. He clamped his eyes shut and forced Molad back, willing himself to stay in control. Pain exploded inside his head at the place where their desires clashed, bending him over double.
Peace, he thought frantically, searching for some, but he could not find it. He wasn’t at peace. His friend was going to die now, and it would be his fault. He finally had answers, but they were not the answers that he wanted.
“Open your eyes, Hugo,” Shael said. His voice was farther away now. “Let Molad out, and I promise you will see your friend alive again.”
Hugo opened his eyes and saw Shael holding his sword against Cannon’s throat.
“Your control is impressive,” Shael said, “but pointless. It doesn’t matter to me whether this one lives or dies.” He lifted the sword slightly, causing Cannon to rise up on tiptoes.
Hugo relinquished his hold on Molad. The force inside his mind rushed outward, pulling him back, and Hugo found himself confined to a dark place.
The cell that he had sworn he would never be locked in again.
Chapter Seven
In which Tabitha plays in the dirt
Tabitha and Chantra flew a mile high over the cold mountains north of the forest of Gan-Gara.
“How much farther?” Tabitha asked. “It’s only going to get colder the farther north we go.”
“Not much,” Chantra said. “I guess it is a bit chilly, isn’t it?” She teetered on Tabitha’s back as a gust of wind buffeted the great swan’s wings, and barely grabbed Tabitha’s neck in time to keep herself from falling.
“Hold on,” Tabitha said. “I have an idea to keep you warm.”
“No need,” Chantra said.
Tabitha felt Chantra’s body become suddenly warm on her back as if it were heating from the inside. “Wow!” she said. “It must be nice to be the Mage of Fire.”
“It has its advantages,” Chantra agreed, sweeping her hair out of the wind and tying it into a bun.
“Hold on a second,” Tabitha said. “That gives me an idea.”
Chantra screeched in surprise as the swan beneath her began to change shape. In a moment, she was riding on the back of a dragon instead. Tabitha released a jet of fire into the cold winter air and bathed herself in warmth.
“Oh, yes,” Chantra said, nodding her approval. “This is much better. I don’t know why we haven’t been traveling like this the whole time.”
They passed the next few hours in relative silence, watching as the moon came out in the night sky. Finally, when most of the mountain range was behind them, Chantra’s voice came over the wind, “I can’t believe he has come here!”
“Here where?” Tabitha said, scanning the ground for something recognizable.
“Don’t you know where we are?” Chantra said.
The last mountain passed beneath them and a wide plain of dark, empty soil came into view. It looked as if it had been tilled by farmers hundreds of years ago and then left barren. There were still remnants of plow lines and heaps of earth, but there were other things as well. Great piles of bones were scattered here and there upon the soil, some of them half covered by stones, others lying open under the sun.
“The Fallow Fields,” Tabitha said reverently. She remembered the place from her lessons with Belterras. The dragons had taken a liking to the this land hundreds of years ago, right after the farmers had finished plowing it—something in the smell of the soil, they thought, or the dark, flat nature of the land, or maybe the protective ring of mountains that hemmed in the valley—and taken it for themselves. The farmers had tried, foolishly, to take it back from them. It was a vain attempt, but they did manage to kill one dragon. The very first dragon to die at the hands of men. Since then the place had become a graveyard of sorts for the dragons.
“But they came here to die!” Tabitha exclaimed. “You don’t think Kuzo is really ready to die, do you?”
“No,” Chantra said. “That’s not the only thing they came here for. Once he told me that this place is sacred to them. The dragons, I mean. He said that they sometimes come here to get guidance.”
“From who?” Tabitha wondered aloud, but Chantra had no answer.
Tabitha circled the fields, but could find no signs of movement below.
“I know I feel him down there,” Chantra said, and Tabitha could hear the confusion in her voice. “This doesn’t make any sense. He should be here. There!”
Tabitha curled her head back and followed Chantra’s finger to a tiny stream of smoke curling up from the ground. They landed next to it and Tabitha hopped back several paces in surprise. “It’s hot right under the dirt.”
“It looks like someone just barely covered something up here,” Chantra said, pointing to an irregularity in the dirt. “Sweep it away with your tail, Tabitha, so we can see what’s underneath.”
“Okay,” Tabitha said brightly. “I love playing in the dirt.” A second later, her mouth fell open at the sight of what lay beneath the soil. Under the thin layer of dirt the earth was nearly molten. It was so hot that if Tabitha jumped on it she thought she might break through and fall into the liquid rock that pooled beneath the crusted surface.
“I don’t understand what this is,” Tabitha said. Chantra slid down Tabitha’s tail onto a patch of ground, oblivious of the heat. A second later, she closed her eyes.
“Ooh,” Tabitha said, returning to her own shape to step up beside Chantra. She had to dance periodically from one foot to the other because of the heat. “Are you talking to the fire? What does it say?”
“Shhh…”
Tabitha wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That’s a strange thing for it to say. And not very helpful, really.”
“No,” Chantra hissed. “I’m talking to you, Tabitha. Shhh.”
Tabitha’s eyes went wide. “Ohh,” she whispered back. “Sorry.” She folded her arms and tried to wait quietly as she watched Chantra standing there. She tapped her foot while she waited, then looked up excitedly as Chantra bent down to touch the edge of the smoldering earth. Chantra’s hand turned the color of fire when she touched it, and Tabitha was sure that she was about to make a grand pronouncement, but she simply stood back up and folded her arms thoughtfully.
Tabitha let out a perturbed puff of air and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “This is taking a long time,” she said under her breath.
Chantra glanced at her. “He was here. But now he is gone. He was very angry when he came. He wanted to get into the Wizard’s Ire, but he saw that the bridge was blocked, so he came here. He poured his anger into the ground. He blew fire
for a long time—hours. Until he was spent…so much fire…” She blinked and opened her eyes. “Wherever he is now, he doesn’t have much fire left. It will take him about a day to get it back.”
“Why would he do that?” Tabitha said. “Won’t he be cold?”
Chantra was staring at the smoldering earth solemnly. “There are two possibilities,” she said quietly. “The first is that he was simply trying to blow off some steam, clear his head, and now he is feeling much better.”
“And the second?”
“Well,” Chantra said slowly, “when a dragon exhausts his fire like this, it comes back much stronger for a while. Kuzo told me that they used to do this in the old days before they went into battle with one another, back in the days of the dragon wars, before there were people in Aberdeen.”
Tabitha gulped. “Battle? But whose side is he going to be on?”
Chantra cocked her head. “I’m not sure. I don’t even know if he is sure yet. That’s what worries me. He has great cause to hate Shael and Gadjihalt, because of what they did to his beloved. Nor can he be entirely pleased with Aberdeen, or the king of the gnomes for imprisoning him for so long.”
Tabitha took a step forward. “Then we have to find him. We just have to. Will you be able to sense him now, with all his fire gone?”
Chantra shook her head. “I doubt it.”
“Then we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Tabitha replied, changing back into a dragon herself. “We’ll ask the birds to help us. They’ll be able to help. Everything will be okay as long as we find him.”
Chantra climbed onto her back. “I hope you’re right, Tabitha,” she said. “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Eight
In which Archibald is lost
It took Archibald some time to realize that he had been separated from the others. It happened, as he later determined, when he came to a fork in the road. One path went left, the other right, and for a moment he thought he heard Tobias humming from both sides. The voice from the left path was much louder, however, so he went that way, thinking little of it. And that was his mistake.
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