“Go on,” Endergot urged eagerly. Marisha’ilea thought he might be desperate to save one of his protégés.
“We collect the quafa'shilaar we have now, from all the Dar'Shilaar.” Brilon stated cautiously. Pandemonium erupted around the hall.
Three loud booms from the staff brought the chamber back to a reasonable level of noise, to which Endergot spoke over, “That would take the stones of almost all the Dar'Shilaar that exist today. We would be powerless. That power is the only thing protecting us from the Empire. Our power and the fact that we move Mahad’avor every few months is the only reason we have been safe. That solution would see us defenceless.”
“As you said, they would not find us, and we would only be powerless until the next batch of stones is available in a mere eight days.” said Brilon in response.
“That might not be quite true.” Zazaril squeaked out.
“Which part?” this time the question came from Dar’ell. His amber magestone flared on the bracer he wore on his wrist. His gaze was hard, accusatory, and it was aimed at Zazaril.
Zazaril cringed. “The Emperor had a scaazi scent my quafa'shilaar amulet.” There was complete silence again in the chamber as all present weighed her words.
Finally Endergot spoke quietly into the void. “So, they know where we are, or can at least find us, if they so choose, while you’re here. We can move Mahad’avor, but they could still track us. Your life is forfeit if we do not come up with two hundred magestones by the end of the month, which is just seven days away, so you cannot stay in Tala’ahar much longer. But if we give up almost all of our magestones to appease the Emperor, we will be defenceless if he, or someone else, does choose to attack, or at least have his forces pay a visit. This is too neat and tidy. Someone has engineered this all somehow. We need to find out who, and how. Who would benefit most if the Empire and the Dar'Shilaar began to disagree or possibly fight?”
The obvious answer hung in the air unspoken. Goralon.
---o---
Marisha’ilea climbed the circular stairs towards Endergot’s study, alone. She was thinking about the emergency session that had just gone into recess for each of The Seven to deliberate on the courses of action available to them. They were to be reconvening again after lunch. Endergot had not traversed the stairs with her today, their usual teasing game forgotten, and had immediately relented to her insistence on Transporting himself to his chambers. She was worried. It appeared his age and this crisis was wearing on him, and she knew there was nothing she could do to help.
She knocked on the sturdy oak door. No one answered. She knocked a second time, slightly louder. This was not a door that she wanted to try the handle to see if it was unlocked. The wards would certainly incapacitate her, if not seriously injure her. After another moment she heard Endergot’s voice beckon her in. She opened the door cautiously and stepped into the room.
As she closed the door, she turned to find Endergot sitting in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace staring into the flames. The flame sprites were still there, jumping from log to log, throwing balls of fire at each other. He didn’t move as she sat in her usual spot in the chair next to his.
She waited quietly, watching the capricious sprites dance and jump in the fire, creating little footprints of flame where they stepped along the wood. She knew he would speak when, and only when, he wanted to. She was an elf, and as with most elves, she had learned patience.
Eventually, after more than a bell had passed, she could finally wait no more. “The lunch bell approaches, and Henkelan will be up soon with your meal. Have you come to a decision?”
Endergot made no move to answer, just sat, staring into the flames. Finally he spoke, her quiet ears able to pick the words up easily. “What observations do you have from today’s session? I need aid in making my decision; maybe your input will sway me.”
“Well, it appears this warlock, if indeed this is all his work, has managed to put the Emperor and the Dar'Shilaar into a precarious spot. ‘Between a rock and a stone’ I believe the saying goes. We obviously cannot turn over Zazaril to the Emperor for torture and death, nor can we make ourselves defenceless by turning over all our quafa'shilaar, as Brilon has suggested. That is even assuming the Emperor has figured out how to use bound quafa'shilaar in a different way than their current uses. Or maybe he has determined a way to break the bond. Without one of those revelations, the stones would be useless to him anyway."
"However, if we do not capitulate to the Emperor’s demands, what other options do we have, other than fleeing?” continued Marisha’ilea as she pressed her fingers together in front of her face, staring past them into the flames. There had to be a way out.
“Truly, that is the fundamental question, is it not?” Endergot said, weariness evident in his voice.
“I also thought I noted a reaction from one of the other Recorders during the council session. Not sure if his reaction is important in this situation, but he is from Goralon, based on his coloring and facial features.” All those that came to Mahad’avor were required to formerly renounce their ties and allegiances to any place or person but the Dar'Shilaar. That was the rule, but it did not mean that they did not hold a special place in their heart for the country or city of their birth, as she did. That could be all that she had noted, or it could be more. She made a note to herself to look into it.
She heard a quiet knock on the study door, and then the door opened. Henkelan backed into the room carrying a tray containing Endergot’s lunch. Marisha’ilea studied him a moment, his greying hair thinning on top, and sprouting from his ears almost as much as Endergot’s. He was tall and rail thin, to the point of skeletal, and carried himself with a stiff back, which was starting to bend with age – he wasn’t that much younger than Endergot. He wore the standard livery of Mahad’avor – forest green with yellow. She noted the charm he wore about his long neck that indicated his position as head of the staff. It also gave the wearer the ability to ignore most of the wards in Mahad’avor so they could do the work the position required without getting injured or killed by an errant spell. He placed the tray on a side table, and began to arrange the silverware and crockery.
“I will see you after the recess,” she said to her mentor, who nodded his head absently as she rose. She nodded a silent acknowledgement to Henkelan, who returned the nod, and saw herself out. The next few hours were going to be something to be talked about.
Koltan
It was late. The emergency session had lasted most of the afternoon, with each of The Seven presenting their position with arguments and being questioned by the other six as to how they would work. It was quite entertaining. His master had tied the situation into a nice box with a neat and tidy bow. And now he knew the result and couldn’t wait to share it with his master, to tell him how well things were working out. It was almost his shift at the felia'shilaar - the magemirror. He didn’t mind having the night shift as it allowed him a lot of freedom that he wouldn’t otherwise have.
The day shift had many of the Dar'Shilaar of Mahad’avor coming and going, having the students send out messages and missives to other mirrors across the Empire, and to the embassies. At night, no one bothered to do so, knowing that most everyone else was asleep, or should be so. Only special messages came in at night, usually the urgent or the secretive. And he liked seeing those messages. They allowed him to learn things he might not otherwise, and in two cases, he had not recorded the message, and in so doing had brought about his part in the current situation.
He reached magemirror room number three and opened the door to find two other students working together in the room. It appeared they were practicing at spells and counter spells, their quafa'shilaar - their magestones flaring, while they waited for any messages. As they noticed him, they stopped their casting and took a break.
“It looks like my replacement is here,” chimed the male, “See you tomorrow for lunch?” he directed at the female.
“Yes, I look forwa
rd to it,” she responded, her voice like water trickling over glass, all musical and sparkly. It grated on Koltan’s nerves.
“Treat her well, but challenge her,” the male student, whom Koltan seemed to recall was named Durkinal, directed his way.
“You’re not both going?” Koltan inquired a little too quickly. He looked away quickly and moved towards the desk.
“Why no,” answered the girl, who seemed like one of the second or third year students, “I got in trouble with Faradan this morning, and after a hundred lines he banished me here for two shifts. My name is Serah.” She stuck out her hand, which Koltan ignored, setting his books down on the side desk with a slight frown. How would he be able to talk with his mentor if this girl was here the whole shift?
“See you tomorrow,” Durkinal directed to Serah, and closed the door behind him, not waiting for an answer.
Koltan had an idea. “So what were you two working on when I arrived?” he asked with feigned interest.
Serah smiled, “Durk was showing me how to defend myself against harmful spells. Would you be able to help me also?” Koltan smiled, it was too easy.
“Certainly. Prepare yourself.” With that he took several steps backwards in the round room, so he was facing her, hands outstretched. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she replied eagerly.
“Cravash!” he intoned and flung marbles of light from his fingers directly at her.
“Voydu!” Serah responded, creating a glowing shield before her that absorbed the marbles of light before flaring away into nothingness.
“Very good. Try this.” He directed, and intoned his next spell under his breath so she would have less of an idea what was coming. Suddenly whirling blades of grey appeared from his hands and flew towards her.
“Drasto!” she spat, causing yellow orbs of light to streak in every direction in front of her, like the sky lights they set off at the High Sun Festival, each one intercepting and overloading the power of his Whirling Blades. She smiled smugly, which Koltan felt along his spine.
“Acceptable.” He turned his shoulder slightly to block this middling amateur’s view as he ran his thumbnail, sharpened just for this purpose, along his palm cutting it open to allow the blood to pool there. “Try this.”
His words were garbled, like nothing the girl had ever heard before, nor would ever hear again, as the blood ritual took hold, drawing its power from Koltan, taking a life of its own. Black shadows rose around the girl, who began to look afraid. Like tentacles the shadows began to feel about, touching the girl’s arm, causing her to jerk away as if burned. He could see frost covering that patch of skin.
“Braxafar!” she nearly screamed, causing flames to engulf her body, but not consume it. Anyone trying to touch her would be burned, and it would even protect her from cold for a period of time, but this was not cold. It was the nothingness of the ether. Another tentacle of nothing touched her leg, and caused the fire to wink out in that area, more frost burning her leg. She screamed in pain and dropped to one knee. “I relent!” she cried, “You win!” looking up at him, tears in her eyes.
“Yes I do. Win I mean. I do not relent.” His eyes bored into hers, no mercy to be found within.
The girl looked up in horror as the tentacles began to close around her, causing her protective fire to vanish and frost to begin to cover her body. “Please, I will… do anything…” she pleaded between sobs.
“You only need to do one thing.”
“What is it? Please tell me and I will do it. Anything!” Tears were running down her face and freezing to her chin.
“Die,” he replied as the tentacles surrounded her, one snaking down her throat to silence her screams.
---o---
Koltan knelt before the small magemirror a short while later, after stashing the girl’s body in the nearby well containing one of the nine magestones powering the sky citadel. No one had actually gone into the wells or tunnels in as long as Koltan had been at Mahad’avor. He figured the body might never be discovered, freeze-dried as it was it would never rot or give off smell.
“The Council has voted not to capitulate to the Emperor,” he said to his master on the other side of the mirror. They could communicate in shadow form, but this required less energy and preparation. “Instead, they will close up the embassy and relocate Mahad’avor to another part of Kaladahn. Brilon was very convincing in his argument to hand over the stones of the existing Dar'Shilaar. It was definitely the swaying point against that solution.”
The tall form looked past the kneeling Koltan in thought. “Either result works to our advantage,” the figure whispered. “Each path works in its own way.”
Koltan kept his head down. He thought he heard approval in his master’s voice, but it may just be a trick of his own mind. His master was not generous in his praise.
“Did you manage to determine why the Emperor needed so many stones?”
“No, even the ambassador was not told,” he responded with scorn.
“Nevertheless, the time that we will act is near. The night of the Spring Solstice will be moonless and exceptionally dark this year. It is then that the next step in our plan will occur,” continued the whispering of his master.
“And will I be able to return to you then, master?” he inquired hopefully.
“No.” His master’s voice ripped through his hopes like paper. “You have one more task to accomplish before you return to me.”
“Anything!” he said, the irony of the repeating scene bitter on his tongue.
And so the warlock told him. And he was both scared and excited.
Keyth
The alarm bells had been ringing now for at least fifteen minutes. Captain Keyth had risen from bed and unhurriedly gotten dressed, making sure to put on his armor out of habit, even if an attack was unlikely up here.
He was now standing on the balcony outside his study about half-way up the tallest tower watching as the sky skiff rose up above the battlements on the west side of the sky citadel. He could see his forces battling on the ramparts, as well as firing arrows at the rapidly climbing ship.
The sky skiff had its sails now set for full running, and the breeze was strong, coming out of the northwest – ideal if you were trying to get to Goralon, or more specifically Karvesh. He watched as the ship turned his way and began to cross above the courtyard mere spans from where he was standing. Hoyle was standing at the wheel steering the vessel and looked over to meet Captain Keyth’s eyes. He nodded once and then turned back to his task. Keyth had to step back hastily as the side jib sail came, very nearly, to sweeping him from his balcony.
His forces knew what they were about, trained day and night, always vigilant at the edge of the Empire. Therefore, when he looked down to the courtyard, he could see the drake riders preparing three of the large reptiles. Archers were standing by to mount.
Along the walls, one of the catapults fired at the flyer once it cleared the danger of friendly fire, its flaming pitch traversing an arc through the dark night, leaving trails on his vision. The second catapult fired when the first missile was half way through its arc. The sky skiff made a sudden move to one side and up slightly, causing the first missile to miss by only a few paces, and then the skiff cleared the far wall and dropped from sight.
Down below whistles blew as the first drake made the lumbering run and then lurched into the sky to chase after the fleeing ship. The other two were in the air shortly behind the first, shadows lost into the darkness.
Inside, a knock sounded on his study door and the door opened without waiting for an invitation. Only one person would do that. “What do you have for me, Thandria?” he asked as she stepped up beside him at the stone balustrade.
“As soon as the alarm bells went off, I went to the barracks they were given. Their guards were incapacitated, though not permanently harmed. I found this.” She handed him a sealed parchment with his name on the outside. How they had managed to come by sealing wax, he did not know… He shook
his head, they were resourceful - he had to admit.
He moved back into his study where several candles flickered, offering enough light to read by. Thandria closed the glass door behind her, shutting out the strong breeze still trying to cling to winter. Keyth broke the seal on the parchment and read the scroll – twice.
“Wait ten more minutes, and then order the bell ringers to recall the drake riders.”
Thandria nodded, never questioning his orders, saluted and then left him alone. He went to his side table and poured himself a Valkiir brandy and sipped it while slowly chuckling to himself. It might just work.
PART III
Sometimes, when I look back at the events leading up to the war, I wonder if by some other Choice – could I have changed the course of events? Of course that train of thought leads towards regret, and I make it a point to try and live without regrets as often as possible. Again, that can also lead to a lack of conscience, which I also try and avoid. I find a little, very quiet, voice inside my head telling me when something might be a bad idea very reassuring at times. But I digress.
In those last few days before the invasion, when we were wandering the woods, trying to find our way to Karvesh, worry became my constant companion. Sometimes that was more consistent than those persons accompanying me, but at times much less helpful. Choosing to put that aside, and do my best was all the tools I had available to me.
Of course, during our capture and subsequent escape, those tools again became useless. At least I wasn’t in a small stone box. I would have died before that happened again!
Journal of Hoyle Dardanel
The 5th of Julra,
In the year 89 IR (Imperial Rule)
Chapter 18
Celia finished her Shielding spell, and headed to the hatch while trading jibes with Hoyle, and climbed down the ladder-like stairs to find herself standing in a small cabin. A narrow red wood door faced her; the left side had a built-in bench with a small fold-down table hanging against the wall. The right side of the small space had some small shelves with rails in front to hold objects in place as the craft shifted. Another small rack held two bows and two quivers of arrows. Behind her on each side of the ladder, below her waist height, were two long bunks that filled the space to the rear of the skiff.
Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) Page 19