by A L Hardy
Fifteen large Tyrns tumbled into the clearing from the south with three Trelir women and a towering ogre. Sharp orders were snapped about in the Trelir language, and low, deep grumbles responded from the Tyrns.
The group eventually made camp and settled in by mid-morning and slept through the day; posting a pair of Tyrns and a Trelir on constant guard. From their small camp within the trees, Jurod and Ilays were fairly certain that they hadn't been seen and quietly packed their gear, strapped on their leather armor, and moved to a safer distance.
The day passed slowly as the two waited out the Tyrnish camp, and they had several discussions about how they might hunt down the group if they happened to find the book and start on their journey. Thankfully, the Trelir didn’t notice what they had stumbled upon.
Jurod went hunting again the next morning as Ilays sat watching the group. He returned after a few hours with a deer slung across his back. Jurod laid the deer out after cleaning and skinning it and watched the Tyrns as Ilays spent the afternoon in meditation.
As Jurod sat watching, Ilays very suddenly came out of her trance and her eyes glazed purple before he knew what was happening. He watched as Ilays began weaving trust and panic around the deer, drying it out and sending the scent upwards and away from the camp in the clearing.
“I thought we had agreed not to use magic this close to them,” Jurod hissed.
“In my meditation I noticed a shift in the wind coming. Tyrns have remarkable skills in hunting. Much of that relies on their sense of smell. I did this because if I didn’t, we would have almost surely been discovered within a few minutes,” she stated calmly.
Jurod gave her an exasperated look, but knew she was right. He wasn’t even sure she noticed as she settled back into her trance. Left to his own devices again as he watched the all too boring Tyrns, Jurod set to slicing the deer meat into more manageable pieces and began packing it away into their bags.
After the second night of being camped in the clearing, the Trelir began snapping orders again and the Tyrns packed camp and moved out of the clearing headed north.
Ilays and Jurod practically ran into the clearing when the ogre was out of sight.
“What do we do if they find our horses Ilays,” Jurod asked concerned.
“We’ll only worry about that if it happens. They’re obviously not travelling on the roads, so the likeliness that they’re headed toward the clearing where we left them is slim. We’d best move quickly locating the book though,” she replied seeming somewhat concerned herself.
The sun rose with the morning and crossed the sky as the pair searched everywhere for where Xardan hid the book. It became apparent to them that either the horses had been found and stolen without thought to who they belonged to or they hadn’t been spotted. Either way, the two found it much less important than the task at hand, so their attention remained on the search.
“He left the drop on the stump.” Jurod stated.
“Obviously...” Ilays muttered.
“But there is no book or source of magic under or inside the stump...” Jurod continued, “I know Xardan can use his Knighthood in continually surprising ways, and he can hide his power; but can he block other magics with them as well?”
Ilays turned at Jurod's suggestion and they both looked at the base of the stump. As the sun rose and climbed across the sky throughout the day, the shadows at the base of the stump hadn't moved. It had been something they had both overlooked simply because of the way the shadows fell in the area, but it became apparent that the shadows should have moved throughout the day.
“It would be his most surprising move that I have seen thus far.” Ilays admitted, and both reached for the shadows.
Chilling pain shot through Jurod's arm as his fingers entered the shadows at the base of the stump, and as he recoiled in from it he was absolutely certain that this was exactly where Xardan had hidden the book.
But how would they get it out?
They made camp again and set a new set of wards for the night, but neither slept well knowing the book was within arm’s reach, yet completely unreachable.
Unable to sleep, they rose early and started working on the puzzle of Xardan's ward. Ilays Focused first and extended her senses forward, the ward seemed simple and Ilays tried conjuring a ball of light and began moving it toward the shadows.
When the shadows remained unaffected by the light, Ilays simply nodded her head with a small smile. “If the sun hadn't weakened those shadows,” Ilays stated, “it was unlikely that I would have. Do you know if that book is well protected by wards to ensure it won’t be burned?”
“I’m not sure, but I do know that Father Nikolas was one of the most thorough instructors I’ve ever met. If he didn’t ward it, then the wards that were already there must have been more powerful than any he could conjure,” Jurod said, feeling a pang of remorse at remembering Father Nikolas.
Jurod watched as Ilays cast a complex spell through and around the shadowy ward comprised of countless emotions. When she finished the spell however, she screamed.
Jurod cringed against the sound as it was completely unlike any that he had ever heard from Ilays before. Fortunately it was over only seconds after it had begun, but Ilays continued to moan as she writhed in pain on the ground.
Jurod looked at the deep shadows under the stump in sheer panic as Ilays's moans continued. As he pondered the problem at hand, the glimmer of a flame flashed across the surface of the shadows and Jurod immediately recalled Xardan’s statement earlier in their journey.
Drashyre can burn through many things that regular fire cannot; even my shadow shield.
His panic turned to a quiet calm as a small flicker of Drashyre danced across Jurod's fingers and onto the shadow ward. Taking to the shadow ward as its fuel, the Drashyre immediately started consuming Xardan's trap. As the shadows thinned Ilays's moan started to lessen proportionately.
After several minutes, Xardan's ward was completely consumed and Ilays's moaning had ceased. Using spells of air, Jurod duplicated the barriers that Xardan used to cut off the air supply to his Drashyre and extinguished the flames before they caught on the stump and spread through the clearing.
Sitting under the stump, in immaculate condition, was the spell book of Laglan Darkshire.
*
The trees around Learth were turning orange with the coming of autumn and leaves were crunching under the horses’ hooves as Jurod and Ilays trudged into the yard at Myrin’s inn. Zoan, Myrin’s son, hopped out into the yard and escorted their horses away, and the pair stumbled up to the room where Myrin quickly brought up hot plates of fresh food.
Jurod slept the rest of the afternoon, through the night, and into mid-morning before he woke to the smell of food. The plate on his table was piled high with steaming eggs and meats that were spiced with flavors Jurod had never tasted before.
Despite his hunger, Jurod took care to eat slowly and not upset his stomach then dressed and packed his gear in case they were forced to leave quickly. He was still uncomfortable being this close to Learth, but happy to have the spell book back again.
After finishing his breakfast, Jurod went to find Ilays. When he found her, she was sitting in the common room at a small table, directly across from Zoan. Jurod took note that she had also dressed completely in her traveling leathers and carried both scimitars across her back.
“You’re awake!” she piped cheerily when she saw him arrive, turning only briefly to look at him as Zoan reached out to move the stones on the table in front of them.
“It’s your turn, Ilays.” Zoan stated.
Ilays turned her attention immediately back to the table and Jurod realized that they were mildly involved in some sort of game. Three circles were carved into the table so that all three overlapped in the center of the table. A fourth circle was carved inside the first three, around the overlapping area in the center. Smaller circles had been carved at every intersection of the four larger circles, at regular intervals along th
e furthest outside lines of the board, and one in the exact center of the board; a total of twenty-five smaller circles on the board.
Jurod noticed that the four rocks on the board were all approximately the same size and shape; six others sat in a recessed trough along the far side of the table with three sticks of various lengths. Ilays surveyed the board before moving one of the two red colored stones to a corner of the innermost, overlapping section then moved the black stone adjacent to it on the board.
“Your turn,” she smiled at Zoan.
Zoan immediately reached out and moved the only green stone to an intersection on the fourth circle, then moved the black stone adjacent to it on the innermost circle.
Zoan sat back with a confident air, and Ilays moved a second red colored stone across from Zoan’s green stone on the fourth circle, so that there was only one small circle between the two, then moved the black stone out to the fourth circle as well, immediately adjacent to Zoan’s green stone.
Zoan’s confidence wavered on his face as he moved the green stone to an outermost intersection of two of the larger circles, then moved the black stone to where his green stone had been.
Ilays didn’t hesitate at all to move her inner red stone to the center of the table, then move the black stone back to where it had been before Zoan had moved it. After moving both stones, Ilays took her red stone from the center and dropped it into the trough at the side.
Only then did Jurod realize the colors of the stones in the through: two green, three blue, and now two red.
Zoan reached out and moved his green stone back to its previous position and shifted the black stone back onto the innermost circle.
Ilays moved her last red stone down to the inner-most circle, and then moved the black stone to the last vacant position in the innermost circle.
Zoan shifted his green stone one spot to the side, and moved the black stone to the innermost position adjacent to his green stone.
Ilays moved her last red stone into the center again, and moved the black stone to the fourth circle before placing her red stone into the trough.
Zoan nodded slowly, still thinking over the last several moves on the board. “Good game,” he finally acknowledged.
Ilays nodded in turn before turning to Jurod, “Would you like to play a game?”
“Oh, no thank you,” Jurod replied, “I’m afraid that I don’t know the rules.”
“Neither did Zoan,” Ilays answered, “But I taught him to play.”
“It’s fun Jurod!” Zoan encouraged, “Come play!”
Jurod shook his head slightly before yielding to Zoan’s pleas and pulling a third chair up to the table; Zoan shouted and cheered at his success. From Jurod’s seat, two of the larger circles were to his left and right, with the third across the table from him. Ilays sat to his right, and Zoan to his left.
Ilays and Jurod shared small smiles before she started explaining the rules of the game, which she called “Pips”.
“There are always seven pieces on the board,” Ilays explained, “With two players, you each have three pips; with three players you each have two. The neutral pip is always the seventh.”
They used the three sticks in the trough to determine who would play first, and then took turns placing their stones on the outer rings. Once all the pieces were placed, the three took turns moving one of their pieces one space along one of the circles, then doing the same with the black, “neutral” stone – with the goal of getting each of the colored pieces into the center of the board.
“You have to move one of your Pips if you can,” Ilays continued, “Even if that means you move backward. If you can’t legally move one of your Pips, you still have to move the neutral Pip to end your turn. Your turn isn’t over until you move the neutral Pip.”
“’What if the neutral pip is blocked in and can’t move?” Jurod asked.
“The only way that could happen is if you blocked it in on your turn,” Ilays replied, “and that makes your move invalid since you then cannot move the neutral Pip.”
The three began playing, and though the rules were simple, the gameplay itself was challenging. Jurod quickly realized that decisions made as they placed their pieces had dramatic effects on the rest of the game. Maneuvering around Zoan and Ilays, with the added rule that you cannot place a Pip immediately adjacent to an opponent’s, was far more difficult than Jurod had expected it to be.
The game went on for quite some time – Myrin even bringing breakfast to the table and Jurod and Ilays having time to finish their meals before Zoan moved his second Pip off the board and dropped it into the trough
As if on cue, as soon as Zoan’s pip cluttered into the trough at the side of the table, the front door of the inn flew open.
All three players at the table turned their attention to the old man that hobbled through the door, leaning heavily on a gnarled wood staff. He wore gray leathers that must have once been nice, but time had rendered them ragged and worn. The hood of his brown, wool cloak was pulled forward, obscuring his face in shadows. Without comment, he hobbled forward on his staff and looked over the board.
After several long moments in silence, he finally spoke in a weak, raspy voice, “You played a good game, Zoan. And don’t be discouraged Jurod, Ilays has been playing for years!”
“How do you know our names?” Ilays asked.
The old man threw his hood back and revealed long, silver hair and rounded Kin ears. His eyes were covered in thick, heavy bandages.
“Let’s just say that Aramill is a friend of mine,” he rasped, “And I have come to collect him!”
Ilays and Jurod carefully considered the old man. He appeared to be blind, and even if he weren’t he wore thick enough bandages that he couldn’t possibly see through them all. They both knew he wasn’t Focusing any arcane magic, but neither could tell if he was using prayers such as those Aramill used.
“No Ilays,” he answered to their unspoken question, “I have no magic of my own.”
“Who are you?” Jurod asked in response.
“I have already told you; I am a friend of Aramill.” He responded.
“Aramill isn’t awake,” Ilays snapped, “He hasn’t been for days.”
The old man nodded slowly and seemed to withdraw from the conversation for a brief moment before the entire group heard the sound of footsteps above them.
With a small smile of satisfaction, the old man simply stated, “He is now!”
The door to the back rooms opened and Aramill entered, fully armed, armored, and packed. The shield he had acquired in Learth was strapped to his bag and the spear was gripped in his right hand. His left hand flexed nervously on the hilt of his gladius at his hip.
Aramill bowed informally before the old man without a word.
“Ilays,” the old man continued, “I will require Laglan’s spell book. It is time for Aramill and me to be on our way.”
Jurod immediately straightened in his chair and gripped his blade, and Aramill reacted by lowering his spear and wrenching his gladius free of its scabbard.
The old man chuckled and shook his head slightly as Aramill straightened and sheathed his blade. Jurod looked down at his sword, not recognizing the blade or understanding how to wield it properly.
Ilays rose and reached into her bag, pulling out Laglan’s spell book, and handed it off to the old man. Nodding slightly, he graciously accepted the book and turned to leave with Aramill on his heels.
Stopping just before the door, the old man looked back at Ilays and Jurod with an aura of sorrow about him.
“Remember,” he finished, “This war did not start with the hunt for this book, and it doesn’t end with it either. A usurping tyrant still sits on Faelhart’s throne.”
Chapter 17
The Demon War shattered the First Alliance and spurned the Ibeald to retreat to their forest home, abandoning the rest of Khes'yc to their fate. Another alliance was then created between the Desert-Kin, the High-Kin, the Lythrain, and the P
enshalt. The Seals of the Kin flourished when bred with the Lythrain and the Penshalt, and after generations of war when men had little time for racial prejudices there were no longer Sealed or Unsealed or Penshalt or Lythrain - there were only the Sealed Graykin.
*
Tennlka stormed into the chambers that had been given to Talren in Faelhart. One of his most trusted Knights, Sebus Amakiir, Knight of the Open Eyes, and his squire, Ryder Delgund, Knight of the Winter Wind, flanked him to either side with blades in hand.
Talren’s guard flashed a scimitar from a bag near the bed and jumped between the Kin and her charge.
Without alarm, Talren turned to face King Tennlka with a smile.
“You would taint my opinion of your hospitality but intruding on my chambers with drawn blades?”
“Have your troops withdrawn!” Tennlka barked.
Talren seemed taken aback by the tone in the King’s voice, but recovered quickly and retorted, “Have we displeased you, your Highness?”
“Talarian troops entering Faelhart was not part of our agreement!” the King roared, “And while I was willing to overlook a few small units and battalions, you have already practically taken control of my Kingdom!”
“We forged an alliance and you asked for reinforcements.” Talren replied, “We are simply giving you what you need to win your war.”
“In our negotiations, you stated that Talarian occupation would not be necessary! You said you had another plan!”
“And we do!” Talren remained cool and collected throughout the argument, even in spite of Tennlka’s rage. “The final reagents are still being gathered, and all of our troops will be deployed to our own front lines as soon as you are victorious.
“It does not help however,” Talren continued, “That our paladins are being forced to review and test every line written in the book you provided since several sections are missing.”