Time of Shadows (The Saga of the Seven Stars Book 2)

by Dayne Edmondson

  “Stay here for a moment,” Dawyn said to Anwyn, before walking to the rear of the tavern. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, do you need any assistance bringing that ale inside?”

  The man straightened from lowering the barrel of ale and looked at Dawyn. “Aye, I could at that. My son is nowhere to be seen, the lazy whelp. What’s your name, sir?”

  “Dawyn. Yours?”

  “Bertram.” The man stepped forward and offered his hand, which Dawyn shook. “Come on, there are several barrels left.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, he stepped around Dawyn and went out the back door.

  Several minutes later, the two men completed moving the barrels from the wagons in the yard to the cellar beneath the inn. “Let me get you a drink, Dawyn,” Bertram said, as he pulled out a pair of tankards and filled them to the brim with ale. He handed one to Dawyn.

  “Thank you,” Dawyn said. He motioned Anwyn over.

  “Cheers,” Bertram said and the two men clanked their mugs together.

  “Bertram, this is Anwyn,” he paused. What were they? He told the three from Earth that they were lovers, but were they more than lovers. They hadn’t had a chance to marry yet, it just seemed like they never had the time. Back home he might have said they were engaged. He settled on saying, “She and I are friends. Anwyn, this is Bertram, the owner of this establishment.”

  Bertram accepted the explanation with a nod and gave a small bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, lass. Would you care for some ale?”

  Anwyn shook her head. “No, thank you Bertram. I don’t drink spirits unless I have no other choice.”

  Bertram shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned his attention back to Dawyn. “So, what brings you folks to the Stoneridge Inn? I have to admit we don’t get many visitors here, being so far out of the way.”

  This was the moment Dawyn had been fearing. Although Bertram seemed trustworthy, there were many prying ears around, and he knew first-hand how word could spread like wildfire. “We’ve traveled here from the north. I’m looking for work. We would like to settle down here in Stoneridge.”

  “Really?” Bertram asked. “Well, there isn’t much work available around here. You might find some work in the mines, or as a guardsman, if you’ve the skill.”

  “What about the nobles?” Dawyn asked. “We saw a carriage carrying nobles leaving town earlier today. Surely they need guards to protect them on the roads. Is there any such work available that you’ve heard of?”

  Bertram began to study his tankard, as if it were the first time he’d seen it. “No, can’t say that I’ve heard of any work related to nobles,” he said. The way he said it though. He knows something, Dawyn thought. Knows or suspects.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Perhaps I’ll apply at the quarry.”

  “Yes, that would probably be best. I need to get back to work, now. It was nice meeting you.” He shook hands with Dawyn, gave a quick nod to Anwyn and hurried into the kitchens.

  Anwyn looked after Bertram and then turned her head toward Dawyn. “That was odd.” She kept her voice low. “Do you think he knows something?”

  “He definitely knows something he’s not telling us,” Dawyn said. “I don’t think he’s involved with the business, though. Maybe he’s afraid.”

  “Maybe,” Anwyn said. “I’m tired. Let’s go to our room. We can start our investigations in the morning.”

  ***

  Anwyn awoke with a gasp and sat up. Sweat soaked her naked body, adhering the wool blankets to her skin. Beside her, Dawyn stirred.

  “Anwyn, what’s wrong?”

  She swallowed and considered her answer. The dream, no the vision, had been so clear. It had felt as if she had truly been there, seen him, touched him. But if it had been real, and not just a dream… She turned to face Dawyn in the dark. “Nothing my love, just a nightmare.”

  “It must have been a bad one. What did you dream of?” He reached out and touched the flesh on her back, causing goosebumps to form.

  Her mind raced to come up with a lie. She didn’t dare tell him the truth, not yet. She shook her head. “I don’t quite remember now, it’s fading so fast, as dreams often do.”

  Dawyn placed his other hand on her chest and pressed her backward onto the bed. Pressing his own body up against hers, he pulled the covers up. “Well, I’ll be right here beside you if you have any more nightmares. I love you, Anwyn.”

  “I love you too, Dawyn.” And I will miss you dearly, she thought to herself as she lay pondering her vision before sleep came.

  Chapter 18 - Fire

  “Good,” Alivia said as John drew his mind back into his body. Flames danced in the brazier standing before him, the logs glowing a strong orange color. “You were able to pull the heat from a nearby torch,” she gestured to the wall, where one of the torches was extinguished, “to set the log alight. Can you tell me the other ways you could light the log?”

  John thought for a moment before recalling the answer. “I can manipulate the molecules of the wood itself, making them move faster. But this uses my own energy and can exhaust me faster. I can manipulate the air molecules, to make them move faster, thus causing heat and raising the temperature of the wood. This is slower than manipulating the wood directly, but less energy intensive. The final way is,” he frowned. “Ummm…”

  “The final way is to draw heat from your own body,” Ashley chimed in from behind John. “But it is the most dangerous of methods, because if you draw too much, you can cause severe hypothermia to certain parts of your body.”

  Alivia nodded in approval. “Yes, you are both correct. Those three methods, in addition to the method you used, are the primary ways to light a log. As mages, we prefer to use a heat source other than our own bodies to light something first, followed by manipulation of the air around an object, manipulating the molecules of the object itself and then, only in the most dire of circumstances, pulling heat from our own bodies.”

  “What about the sun?” John asked. “Could you light something with the sun? Like I used to do with a magnifying glass on a piece of grass?”

  “Drawing heat from the air around you,” Alivia said, “which has been naturally heated by the sun, would use the principle of drawing heat from the torch, though you would need to concentrate the heat. Light itself, however, cannot be manipulated. Not by any mages alive today, anyway.”

  “Today? So it was possible once?” John pressed.

  Alivia smiled. “So eager to run when you have yet to walk steadily, John. There is a passage in the ancient texts which have remained from the time of the Founding that speaks of the power to bend light itself. The Founders argued that because light is both a particle and a,” she paused, recalling the word, “wave, that it was more difficult to command light. It was like trying to cup water in your hand while running.”

  “That makes sense,” Jason said from behind John, where he sat next to Ashley. The two of them had already performed their magical feats, freezing water and disintegrating stone. “Even in our…” he stopped. “Even where we come from, light is not well understood.”

  He almost blew our story, John thought. During their time with Alivia, they had not told her their true origin. The story that had been fabricated by Dawyn was that they came from a faraway land, similar to where Dawyn hailed from. If Alivia suspected they were being untruthful, she showed no sign of it.

  Several weeks had passed since Dawyn and Anwyn left in search of the slave master, Ferdinand. In that time, the three college students from Earth had undergone intensive training under the tutelage of Alivia. Each day they were up before the sun, when the bells of the Tower chimed, echoing throughout the city, and were expected to be at the Tower before the bells rang a second time. Alivia would train them during the morning, allow them a brief break for lunch, and then train them until the evening bell rang, before dismissing them for the night. Such a rigid schedule made for long days and exhausted students, but Alivia assured them the pace they were learning at was well abo
ve average.

  Alivia glanced in Jason’s direction and nodded. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the tolling of the Tower’s bells above them. She waited until they had ceased their chiming before speaking. “That is enough instruction for the day. You may leave now. Tomorrow will be more of the same. Have a nice evening.”

  The other three said their farewells and took one of the lifts, which would have been called elevators on Earth, to the ground floor. The level of technology present in the Tower, which many of the younger mages considered magic, astounded the three Earthlings, especially Jason. While all around the Tower, medieval technology was prevalent, the interior of the tower was like stepping into a whole different world. During their weeks at the Tower, they had been given opportunities to explore to a limited extent, and Alivia had given them a whirlwind tour the day after Dawyn and Anwyn left. What they had seen during the tour and explorations was an advanced building from an age even beyond the modern era of Earth.

  “So, what do you two have planned for the evening?” Jason asked.

  “Well,” Ashley said. “We’re going to swing by Gerry’s place for a bit, then head to the tavern. I need a drink to get rid of this headache. You?”

  Jason looked to the left and then to the right, up and down the street in front of the Tower. “I think I’m going to wander around for a bit. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this whole magic thing, ya know.”

  “Alright, be safe, man,” John said and and slapped Jason on the back. Reaching down, he clasped Ashley’s hand and together they walked toward Gerry’s place.

  Gerry’s place was his blacksmith shop, where he forged many types of weapons, armor and day-to-day items such as horseshoes, nails, wheel rims and much more. The sound of hammering reached their ears before the intense heat from the forge assailed their faces and bodies. Glowing iron sparked as the large hammer Gerry wielded slammed into it again and again. The item of his focus was a sword, its distinct form contrasting against the black anvil. He hammered the iron a few more times with the large hammer before switching to a smaller hammer and making lighter taps. John and Ashley stood watching in silence for a minute or two as Gerry continued his work, oblivious to the outside world.

  At last, satisfied, he plunged the sword into a bucket of water at his side, causing steam to billow up. He looked over and saw John and Ashley standing there. “John, Ashley, good to see you. I was just finishing up a sword for the armory. Come on in. Grab an apron, Ashley, if you’d like.” He reached into the water and removed the quenched blade. He set it on one of the finishing racks to dry.

  During their first week in Tar Ebon, the sound of metal on metal had drawn Ashley’s attention as the two of them passed the blacksmith shop. She had stopped, listening for a few moments, before entering the shop and observing Gerry at work. John had seen a light begin to glow in her eyes as she expanded her magical awareness, rudimentary as it was at the time, toward the metal that Gerry had been hammering. After a few minutes, the light had disappeared and she had smiled at John. “That’s amazing, John. The way the metal changes with each strike of the hammer. It’s like I can feel it, the way the heat inundates the iron, the way it feels when metal strikes metal.” She had struck up a conversation with Gerry and began to learn the art of blacksmithing.

  John came with her to the blacksmith shop to be supportive, though he had to admit he hadn’t felt the same connection as she had to the metal. To him, metal was just metal. It was boring and uninteresting. When he drew upon the heightened awareness his magic afforded him, he preferred to study more ephemeral things, such as energy and light. Metal was a constant, predictable thing, while energy seemed full of endless possibilities in John’s mind.

  Ashley took an apron from the rack on the wall and drew it over her head while John took a seat in the corner. She stepped toward the center of the room. “What are we making next, Gerry?”

  “A shield,” Gerry replied as he pulled out an ingot of iron from a set of metal shelves standing against the wall opposite John. “Start the bellows up.”

  Ashley began working the bellows, increasing the temperature in the forge. Sweat began to form on John’s forehead as a fresh wave of heat assailed him. Blacksmith shops by design were always sweltering. Retaining the heat generated by the coals in the forge meant less fuel had to be consumed to maintain a working temperature.

  Gerry began by lowering the iron into the hot coals of the forge with a pair of tongs. The iron sat for several minutes, until it glowed red. He lifted the iron from the forge and laid it on the anvil. “Hammer,” he said.

  Ashley reached over to the tool rack and grabbed a hammer. She handed it to him and he began to hammer the hot iron ingot flat. Several minutes later, after the shield had been shaped and cooled, Gerry turned to Ashley. “Do you want to try forging your own item, Ashley?”

  “Not today, Gerry. I’m exhausted from training. I just like watching you work. I admire the way you make the metal do whatever you desire. Where did you learn so much about metalworking?”

  A distant look came into his eyes as he stared straight ahead. “I learned over many years in the city of Ironforge. I was born there. Have you heard of the place?”

  Ashley shook her head. “No.”

  “It’s a city far to the northeast, along the White Mountains. The greatest metalworking city in all the world, if you ask me. Deep tunnels are dug into the heart of the mountain, where an army of miners dig for iron and other precious metals. The ore is carried out of the mines in massive trains of carts and brought into the foundry. The forges of Ironforge are never cold - they run night and day unending. Underground pipes carry heat from the forges to all of the buildings in the city. Merchants come from far and wide to bring orders for the master craftsmen to fill. The smiths of Ironforge are renowned for their skill and expertise. Many are mages, with the gift of seeing inside the metal, but even the mundane smiths with a passion for the craft are highly praised. It was in the depths of those forges that I learned my craft. If you’re still interested when you complete your training, I’ll write you a letter of recommendation to my own teacher.”

  Ashley clapped her hands. “That would be wonderful! Thank you, Gerry.”

  John stood up. “It’s probably time for us to head back to the inn, Ashley. It’s getting dark.”

  Ashley turned to John and nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” She turned back to Gerry. “Thank you again, Gerry, for an instructive evening. I’ll return soon.”

  “My pleasure, lass,” Gerry replied with a bow. “Good night to you as well, John. You’ve got a good woman there - I hope you appreciate her.”

  “Thanks Gerry,” John said as he stepped up behind Ashley and placed his hands on her waist. “I’m one lucky man.”

  Chapter 19 - Visitor in the Night

  Boris lay on his bunk, exhausted. His bones ached, his muscles burned and the wounds scattered across his body throbbed. The more serious wounds he had sustained were bandaged with crude strips of cloth. Not even the bare wooden slat he lay on bothered him this night.

  He was on the verge of sleep when he heard the door open. He lay very still and slowed his breathing. He had no weapon to speak of - they were taken from him after each match, but he readied himself to strike with hands and feet, catching the intruder by surprise.

  The figure approached. In the darkness, broken only by the faint light from the moon-less sky, he could only see a silhouette. The figure came up to the side of the bed and spoke. “Are you awake?”

  Boris was startled. The voice was that of a female. He did not release the tension in his muscles that left him ready to strike, but he did cease the slowing of his breathing and speak. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Sansa,” she said. Without asking for permission, she reached for him.

  Boris lashed out with a hand, grabbing the silhouette of her wrist. Her skin was smooth. “Don’t touch me. Why are you here?”

  Sansa pulled back her
hand. “I have been sent to please you this evening. I am told you are the champion.” Her hands rose and caressed her body. “I am yours to command, my champion.”

  A whore, Boris thought. Is this how all the slaves who win are treated? He had not heard of this from the other slaves who had won matches. Knowing them, they would have bragged about it. She very well could be an assassin, sent to slay me when I am distracted. He regarded Sansa with suspicion. “Who sent you?”

  “I do not know,” she said. “I am told to come to this room, so I come.” She went to her knees and placed one hand on his trousers. Her hand found no resistance at its destination. “But enough talk. Allow me to please you tonight, as you deserve.”

  “Let me light a candle, first, so that I might look upon you before we begin.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Sansa said as she leaned forward and caressed his trousers with her lips. Her actions were making it difficult for Boris to concentrate. “We don’t need to see each other,” she whispered.

  “Ah, but I insist on seeing my attacker.”

  “Your…,” but the words were cut off as Boris grabbed her throat in an iron grip and shoved her head backward. Sitting up on the bed, Boris maintained the hold. Sansa tugged at his hand with her own, while the second hand, which had before that point not been seen, swung out. In her hand was the silhouette of a pointed object, a dagger. Boris anticipated the strike, however, and seized her arm with his free hand. He squeezed, and her hand relented under the crushing grip, causing it to open and the dagger to clatter to the stone floor.

  “Now, who sent you?” He released the pressure on her throat enough for her to speak.

  “I don’t know,” she croaked. “I was just given a blade and sent to kill you.”

  “Who gave you the blade?” Boris reached down and grabbed it, while still maintaining a slight grip on her throat.”

  “A man. I don’t know his name.”

  “Describe him.”

  “A giant of a man. I had not seen him before. He had blond hair. The other guards showed respect to him.” Darin, Boris thought.