Fallen Tiers

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  “Let me see what I can fathom when we get to the overlook,” Alador snapped.

  They all three walked in silence the rest of the way. The overlook was unoccupied when the men stepped out onto it. Sordith stood a half step back now to stand beside Owen. The storm had rolled in enough that he could clearly see the cloud line off on the horizon. There were flashes of lightning visible from even this distance. One thing he knew, whether natural or magical, they were in for a storm the likes of which he had never seen.

  Chapter Three

  Alador stood on the edge of the parapet, his hands on the rock wall as he leaned forward to stare out at the horizon. The storm was visible to everyone now, but he needed to look at it from a different perspective. The storm was violent, and even from here he could tell it was stronger than anything he had personally weathered. He longed to see it from above; if he could only take wing like Renamaum and see how it was building, he might be able to combat the threat of its landing better. The idea of seeing it through a ‘dragon’s eyes’ gave him the thought that he might be able to project his essence into the water as he had once in the past. He took a deep breath and pulled on his inner power.

  Alador felt his inner self leave his body. He saw the wall of clouds black and boiling as his soul approached the edge of the storm, and he knew Renamaum had seen such cloud movements before. The memory surfaced like a breaching whale - the speed with which the storm rolled and coiled, accelerating as he watched, was there in their shared mind.. It almost appeared alive and very… very… angry.

  He focused in and turned his attention to the air stones, which danced and collided with no discernable pattern. It was like watching a hornet’s nest that had been poked with a stick. He redirected his view from the air stones and took in the ocean itself, plunging into the sea beneath the fast advancing bank of clouds.

  Instantly, his vision was clouded by churning sand ripped from the ocean floor by the massive undercurrent of the sea. He could feel the surge; like a beast, it wrapped itself around him and propelled him forward. If he had been in his corporeal form, he would have been tossed about like a log in a river flooded by torrential rains. A deep memory of Renamaum’s overwhelmed him, a memory of a storm, eons ago - a storm that was so violent it even drove dragons to cover.

  He saw a massive wall of water inundate the shore. It was so tall he wondered if Renamaum’s memory could even be trusted. If the wave was based on Renamaum’s height, from his point of view, then Alador had no doubt the surge would breach the rocks that protected the small harbor from the normal movement of the ocean currents.

  Sordith noticed his brother’s silence and his stare, riveted out on the sea. He moved forward to the wall edge and touched Alador’s arm. “Brother, what is it?”

  Alador’s soul was jerked back into his body with the touch of Sordith’s hand. He leaned forward, his hands still clutching the rock wall. His knees felt weak, and he gulped in air as though he had been drowning.

  “It’s coming,” he gasped.

  Their eyes met. “What’s coming?” The look of fear on Alador’s face scared Sordith more than the storm.

  “There is going to be a wall of water pushed by this storm.” Alador pulled his gaze from the cloudbank speeding toward them and looked directly at Sordith. “It will be tall enough to flood the harbor without slowing down.”

  “Will it hit the trench?” Sordith became grave as he glanced at what appeared to him to be just a stronger storm on the horizon.

  His brother almost whispered, “It may even hit the first tier.”

  “The first tier? That has never happened.” Sordith glanced down. From here, they both could see the stairs to the trench level and even the edge of the first tier.

  “Get your people out of the trench, Sordith.” Alador urged, with an undercurrent of what almost sounded like panic. “Send them to the lee of the city. Send them to the upper tiers, but get them out,” he hissed.

  “How long do you think we have?” Sordith asked with concern. “Between the miners and the others, that is a lot of people to move.”

  “Maybe three…four hours, maximum.” Alador replied. He was watching the storm’s advance again. The threatening clouds crawled across the horizon, turning daytime into night. He could see the occasional lightning flash.

  “Owen!” the Trench Lord called.

  Owen’s head snapped up from where he was concentrating on cleaning his nails with the tip of his dagger. He had lived in the trench for years. He had seen storms come and go. To his way of thinking, the Trench Lord seemed far too concerned about the arrival of this one.

  “Yes?” he responded as he shoved his dagger home in its sheath.

  “I need you to gather all the members of my guard, immediately. Meet me in the courtyard of Trench Hall as soon as possible.”

  Owen turned to comply. It was good to have something to do other than follow Sordith around with his Mage friend.

  “Owen!” Sordith raised his voice over the wind that had picked up.

  The man pulled up short and turned back with a slightly irritated look. Come… Go… which did the Trench Lord want?

  “Hurry, man, we will need to move everyone from the trench.”

  Owen’s jaw dropped. “Everyone from the trench - to where?” he asked in a perplexed tone.

  “Higher ground… Much higher ground.” Sordith glanced out to sea. The storm was now an ominous beast nipping at their heels. Soon it would take a chunk out of them, if his brother was right.

  Owen did as he was ordered and hurried off.

  “Can you stop it? Redirect it?” Sordith clutched the edge of the wall as if it might fortify his brother answer.

  Alador shook his head. “Not by myself.” He felt defeated before he even started. Renamaum’s memory of the previous storm of this size filled his brain with anguish, even… fear. “It is too large and chaotic.” He looked at his brother. “I don’t know, maybe with help.” Could he? Could he at least modify its impact?

  “Can you shield the city?” Sordith knew that many of the trench occupants would be hard to move. Only the stubborn usually survived in the trench, making management of them all that much more difficult.

  “I don’t know Sordith. Not alone…” He couldn’t do this alone. He wasn’t strong enough. Renamaum’s memories told him to run, not fight. “My dragon memory has a vision of such a storm and it is overwhelming. This storm… It is… unusual and I can only guess that it’s an attack on the isle.” Was it Dethara? Had she created the storm? Was it some sort of revenge for the attack on the bloodmines? Alador’s tension increased. “I couldn’t make this type of storm, so if it is an attack, the mage is stronger than I am.”

  “So, what do we do?” Sordith glanced down at the opening to the trench. His eyes drifted out over the harbor. The six remaining ships were swaying in the wind even though their sails had been lowered and bundled.

  “Block the opening is my first thought.” Alador offered, “but then, if it does reach the first tier…” His voice trailed off.

  Sordith stood looking at him. What horror was his brother seeing in his mind?

  “Either way, the floor level is going to flood. Between the rain and sea, I don’t see any way to prevent it.” Alador turned away from the storm and looked at Sordith. “Will the storehouses resist water?”

  “Yes, to an extent. Each is built up before burrowing down. If the water gets higher than the slant, the doors will let it through beneath.” Sordith’s voice held an edge of panic. “I have to get men moving things off the storehouse floors.”

  “Go… Go!” Alador urged. “I will see my uncle about sending someone to build a wall between the trench and the harbor.”

  Sordith nodded and turned. He did not walk - the man ran as if chased by minions of Dethara. Alador had worked with Luthian long enough to know that the city’s wealth and stores were in those storehouses, and he had no idea how much of it could withstand a soaking in salt water.

 
Alador simply did not bother walking back to the council tier. If someone had been watching, they would have seen the mage walking away from the rock wall and then magically disappearing. He materialized in his uncle’s office with the help of his amulet and a quickly conjured traveling spell, certain his uncle would still be attending to those seeking advice or decisions. He made his way down the hall to where Luthian held such audiences. He walked in the side door usually reserved for only Luthian.

  Luthian looked up in surprise when the door opened. Alador met his gaze with serious intent. “Lord Guldalian, I fear there is a more urgent matter that needs your attention.”

  Alador knew that his uncle would understand that he would not interrupt him unless the need was dire. Luthian rose and dismissed the merchant before him with a wave of his hand. When the man attempted to protest, the High Minister gave him such a powerful look that the words which might have been forming in the man’s mouth dried on his tongue and he hurried away following the servant as order. He would come another day when the High Minister was in a more congenial mood and willing to receive.

  Luthian turned to the servant scribe at his elbow and told him to send the rest away for the day, as an urgent matter had arisen.

  Alador’s uncle led the way back to the office, neither man speaking until the door to the library closed. The High Minister made for his desk as Alador began to speak behind him.

  “The storm is intense, Uncle. It is bigger than anything I could manifest,” Alador admitted, “but that is not the worst of it.”

  Luthian’s eyes widened slightly. “Not the worst?”

  Alador moved into a rest position typical of the Blackguard, hands clasped behind him. “There will be a wave such as we have never seen, which will likely swamp the harbor and the trench, possibly even the first tier.”

  Luthian swore under his breath. “I have never heard of such a thing. Are you certain?”

  Alador nodded. “I can sense it.” He was not about to tell his uncle he had actually seen and felt its power. “While I can’t discern the actual height, I was able to make a rough estimate of the minimum.” He paused, knowing his news was dire. “It will cross the harbor.”

  “How far up and down the coast? Will it hit other cities?” Luthian became all business. “And most importantly, can you soften its blow, or turn it?”

  “I don’t think I can alone. I might be able to with help.” Alador stated.

  “With help? If you cannot turn it, how could a lesser storm mage?” Luthian eyed Alador with a bit of confusion.

  “I will meld our powers,” the younger mage replied.

  “Meld… your powers?” Luthian eyes widened and he slowly sank into the chair behind his desk. “That is unheard of!” His eyes met Alador’s and his look became more than curious, it was accusatory. “Where did you learn such a thing?” he demanded.

  Alador tried not to look shocked at the question, but he was surprised at Luthian’s reaction and cursed inwardly. The melding of his powers with Rena’s had happened so easily that he had wrongly assumed all mages could do such things. He had just erred in a major way and scrambled internally for an explanation.

  “Unheard of?” Now he did put on an air of being shocked. “But my father taught me this skill!” Alador tried to sound alarmed. “It is not something you both know?” He hoped he could deflect the suspicion of his uncle from himself to Henrick. If Luthian thought his father was holding back such a power he would be more concerned about that than the fact that his nephew, who he felt he had control over, had learned such a valuable bit of magic.

  “Noooo,” Luthian drawled, eyeing Alador intently. “He somehow managed to keep that to himself.” There was anger simmering just below this uncle’s words.

  “I am sorry I didn’t mention it.” Alador dropped his eyes. He had managed to sidestep the High Minister, or so he hoped. “Henrick offered to teach me, and I thought we might have use of it someday to further the cause of uniting the isle.”

  Luthian was quiet for a long moment. “This is something you know you can do? You have done it before.”

  Alador nodded. “Once or twice,” he truthfully admitted. He shifted uncomfortably under his uncle’s gaze and neither spoke for a long minute.

  “Then, let us get busy,” Luthian finally interjected. “I will find every other storm mage in the city and send them to you. Where do you need them?”

  “The overlook outside the Blackguard caverns.” Alador stated. “If you could also send mages down to help in the trench, I am sure that the flooding will overwhelm the storehouses. Plus, we have to get the people out of there. Sordith is going to need help.”

  Luthian nodded, considering intently. Alador felt unsettled by the look on his face. There was something in his gaze that was calculating. What was the High Minister planning now?

  “Come to the map and show me the minimum edges of this storm.” He rose and started toward the small room that held his detailed maps. “I will need to send orders to any cities in peril.”

  Alador followed him into the other room, relieved they had moved beyond the subject of melding magic.

  The young mage was quick to point out cities on the coast that were likely to have their sea walls breached. In between were many small fishing villages, and he looked up at his uncle with concern. “Can we get word to them to move inland?”

  “I can try.” Luthian frowned at the map and the numerous locations that would be affected. “The cities all have scrying bowls, as you know. We will have the scryers send orders. I can also send my messengers out by lexital until the winds prevent flight.”

  Alador had a momentary shock when a memory from Renamaum unexpectedly surfaced of him careening through the last storm of this size – fighting the winds as if were another living being.

  Luthian did not notice his nephew swallow hard and force down the fear that engulfed him. He was eying the map. “At least we have a bit of warning; I will do what I can.” He looked up and squeezed Alador’s arm. “Where is the main intensity of the storm going to land?”

  Alador struggled to shake off Renamaum’s memory. He leaned over and studied the map. He placed a marker down the coast. “Here.” He placed another up the coast. “And here.” Silverport was all but dead center of the two markers. He looked up at his uncle gravely.

  “You are certain?” Luthian eyed the map.

  “Yes. If I am going to divert it, the best I can do is maybe get the brunt of it up or down the coast. I am not going to be able to stop it from landing.” Alador knew that the air stones were beyond his reach still and by the time they were close enough he was not going to be able to turn it back out to sea, if he could turn it at all.

  “How long do I have before this surge?” Luthian was studying the map.

  “Maybe two hours now.” Time was flying by. The delay at the wall discussing it with Sordith, plus the minutes Luthian and he had talked about it here, had stretched into over an hour. He wanted to instill a sense of urgency in his uncle’s actions.

  The rain had begun a good half hour ago, and the pelting sound of the water hitting the windows tapped out a somber tune warning of what was to come.

  Luthian yanked the bell and a servant appeared almost instantly. Alador noticed the reaction of the man when he saw the scowl on his uncle’s face. The young mage had seen the looks of fear the servants had for their lord, and was glad that he did not have the same effect on his own serving staff.

  “Get me the chief scryer.” Luthian commanded.

  The servant bowed quickly and scurried off to obey his master’s order.

  The High Minister moved to his desk and sat down. He pulled forward parchment and dipped his quill. “I will send orders for each city to move their residents to high ground and send bronze mages down into the trenches to seal the storehouses.” His pen flew across the paper in between frantic dips of his quill in the inkbottle. “I doubt any other city has a storm mage to lead such an effort to forestall the impact of
the wave.” He scratched another line. “I will wish them luck.”

  Alador nodded. “Do you need me any further? If not, I will return to the overlook and do what I can.”

  Luthian shook his head no. “Your warning has given us time to mitigate the losses.”

  Alador considered. “You might want to send word to General Levielle, much of your army is in tents, and a tent will afford no protection against this beast. You might also use their manpower to fortify the wall between the harbor and the trench.”

  Luthian raised a brow. “Your choice of words is ominous.” He put the quill down and sanded the parchment. “I will send word immediately to have the general attend me with haste. It is good to see you have been paying attention to my lessons in the city’s management.”

  Alador smiled and could not help feeling a bit of pleasure at the usually harsh mage’s praise. It was rare that Luthian had a kind word unless he was being manipulative. He nodded to his uncle and stepped back a few paces before turning to head for the door.

  He stopped and gathered his cloak this time; he really didn’t want to be soaked when he attempted this. He did not bother with his Blackguard armor, as Luthian would be sending mages to attend him and they would likely struggle to follow a half-breed as it was.

  He sighed as he headed out of the manor. He had gravely erred when he let Luthian know he could meld powers. He was sure that the discussion of that ability was not over, but there were just more pressing matters at hand. He would have to remember to speak with Sordith and Henrick about his slipup.

  The moment he started down the steps, the wind on the high tier assaulted him. It was not strong enough to be dangerous, but it was moving well enough to drive the rain into his face. Fortunately, most of the way down he would not be facing the wind directly. He focused on the task at hand.