Shel looked around. “Is Lord Tal’raen around?” He asked, running his fingers over the scars on his cheeks in a gesture that seemed entirely unconscious.
Lord? Brea was surprised. Shel had treated Tal as little more than a peasant last time they’d met. “No, I’m afraid he avoids social gatherings when he can,” she admitted.
“A pity,” Shel said. “I owe you both an apology, and my gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” Brea asked, the word shocked from her.
“I had an instructor tell me once I heard better through the scars in my cheeks than the ears on my head,” Shel’nart said dryly. “The Tal’Var school teaches self-reflection in defeat – and I concluded long ago it was not merely my swordsmanship that was lacking that day. I was crude, crass, and violent – and I was wrong. I am sorry.”
Brea simply nodded wordlessly. She’d never expected Shel to apologize to her for those long ago days when his father had tried to force a betrothal between them. It was… good to hear.
“There’s someone I’d like you and Lord Tal’Raen to meet,” Shel continued after a moment.
“Who?” Brea could not keep herself from asking.
Shel smiled, and Brea started as she realized what had seemed different about his face. He wasn’t sneering at everyone. “I learned many lessons from you and Tal’raen,” he said quietly. “I applied them all when I met my wife.”
Even as he spoke, Brea spotted a woman in blue making a beeline for them. Shel turned to face her with a smile. She returned his smile, then turned to Brea.
“So you are Wolf Adept Brea’ahrn?” she asked.
Brea nodded. “I am,” she said softly, eyeing the shorter woman.
Shel’s wife smiled. “I’m Kiri’lor, Shel’s wife,” she told Brea, burrowing her way into Shel’s arm as she did.
Brea looked at the couple and smiled herself. “So things worked out for the best, did they?” she asked them.
Shel nodded, and Brea was struck once more by how much his face had softened. “Yes, they did,” he agreed. He paused, looking over Brea’s shoulder. “I thought you said Tal’raen avoided these gatherings?”
“He does. Why?” Brea asked.
The knight’s smile turned into an undeniable grin. “Because he just came in,” he told her, “and I think he’s looking for you.”
Brea turned around slowly and spotted him. Dressed in the same sort of plain black tunic he wore for everything, this one didn’t appear to be quite as plain. Even from where she stood, she could see that it wasn’t the enspelled cotton – rare enough even in gatherings of this social level – that he wore every day, but enspelled velvet. He’d dressed up as much as he ever did and he’d come here, despite his feelings about both fancy clothes and social gatherings. Her face softened. Even without the Chapel’s spellmind making her face how she felt, she’d have fallen in love with him all over again right then and there.
“Go to him, my lady,” Kiri said. “I’m sure Shel and I will find something to do.”
Brea turned to the couple and smiled. “Thank you,” she said simply.
The knight made a gently dismissive gesture. “Just go, my lady,” he told her.
Tal smiled at her as she approached, and Brea felt herself returning the smile without any conscious thought. “You came,” she said softly.
He shrugged. She’d found that was not an uncommon response from him. “It’s your party,” he told her. “I couldn’t really miss it like the rest.”
In the year and a half Brea had known him, she couldn’t remember Tal ever turning up to a party of any kind. He was here, though. “Walk with me,” she said.
Tal nodded and stepped up to her side with the smooth, silent grace she’d learned was so much a part of him. Brea hooked her arm through his in the approved fashion for court and led him into the crowd.
The congratulations seemed to have faded. Either everyone had congratulated her – which was possible – or they were more hesitant about being around the youth that everyone knew was going to be a Hawk Mage when he was older. Nobody was all that comfortable with the powerful Battlemagi – they were far too much of a two-edged sword.
The two youths moved over to the side, watching the dancers on the smoothed granite floor. Courtships went on out there, in full view. Everyone was dressed in their finest. Brea watched them for a moment, her eyes moving from couple to couple.
“The ball is supposedly for me, but most of them are here for each other,” she observed. “Dressed up in their finery in this age-old mating dance.”
She felt Tal shift beside her and glanced over to find him looking at her. “For some of them. Others are here because they either respect you or respect what you’ve achieved,” he admonished quietly.
“And which are you?” she teased.
“Both,” he replied. “And neither. Less; and more. I’m here as your friend.” A soft smile crossed Tal’s face.
“Cryptic, aren’t you?” Brea said.
“Often,” he responded.
Brea turned back to the floor, watching as a song came to an end. She listened as a soft song, mostly string and wind instruments, began. She glanced over to Tal. “So, milord Tal’raen,” she asked teasingly, “with all the things you’ve learned, do you dance?”
Tal looked slightly uncomfortable. “Steel and magic, Brea,” he said quietly. “Not ballroom.”
Brea smiled gently as she took his hands in hers. “Then I think it’s time you learned that as well,” she said firmly. “Come.” With that, she led him onto the floor.
The hawk hit the battlements and tumbled over to lie on the walkway. After a moment, Car Shifted back to human, still wet and bedraggled in the last dregs of a summer storm.
Footsteps warned him a guard was coming. “Who goes there?” the Kingsman demanded, his voice squeaking.
Car pulled himself to his feet, facing the young soldier. “The Hawk Car’raen,” he replied. He waited a moment before continuing, allowing the Kingsman to identify him for himself. “I must speak to the Council of Three immediately. Can you arrange messengers?”
The guard hesitated. “I’m sorry, milord Hawk, I can’t leave my post,” he admitted, but then paused again, considering. “But my lieutenant likely can,” he continued. “Where should they meet you?”
“In the catacombs,” Car said softly. “The Last Chapel.”
The guard’s face turned slightly white, but he nodded.
Car stood outside the black granite archway that marked the entrance to the Last Chapel, a place as central to Death Magi as the Chapel of Life was to Life Magi. He watched as the three members of the ruling Council of the Magi approached.
He inclined his head to them. He didn’t have to, but even a Hawk remembered courtesy. “Shej’mahi, Kir’ani, Lor’dals,” he greeted them, the Battle Lord and High Priests of Silsh Tekat and Shet Ronen, respectively. “Thank you for coming, my friends.”
He gestured for them to follow, and stepped through the black, murk-filled archway. He felt the spellmind that guarded this place touch him and admit him. The murk faded to a different kind of light.
The light somehow showed everything clearly, yet was not visible in and of itself. A black stone altar held the facing busts of Silsh Tekat and Shet Ronen, the Gods of air and fire.
“What is this about, Car’raen?” Shej’mahi demanded after he’d entered himself.
Car waited for the other two members of the Council to enter. “Milords, milady,” he said quietly, “I must request that my apprentice, Tal’raen, be raised to Adept tonight.”
“Wait a minute, Car,” Shej said harshly. “You haven’t spoken to the boy in well over a year. Why do you ask this now?”
Car faced the Council squarely. “Two days ago, the Chaos Mage and spy Jia’har was rescued by other Chaos Magi,” he said flatly. “Two of them. They cut their way through an entire fort full of Magi, and escaped with him.
“I do not see what this has to do with Tal,” Kir’ani, High
Priestess of Silsh Tekat, said quietly.
“I was there, Kir. I fought one of them,” Car responded.
Lor’dals shrugged. “One less Chaos Mage,” he said dismissively. “I take it he died to allow the others to escape from you?”
“No. I was defeated,” Car said flatly as he met the shocked gazes of the Council. “He may be merely an unusually powerful Drake Mage, but… I fear there is more at work here. We must defeat him. I need another Hawk Mage, and Tal is the only one who is free to come.”
Shej looked at the others. “He is ready,” he said unwillingly. “Normally he would not become an adept for another two months, but he can if he must.”
“We must stop this Mage, Stret’sar, from reaching the mountains,” Car said quietly. “Only Tal does not have responsibilities he cannot safely leave, and I must have the help of a Mage of great power. He must face the Trial.”
Car watched them, holding each of the Councilors’ eyes until they nodded. “Then let us send a messenger,” Shej’mahi said finally, “and we shall be his Swearers.”
Tal held Brea gently as they danced. Despite what he’d said, he did know how to dance. Shris’dari had taught him, and he’d been at a few barn dances back home and a handful of unavoidable affairs in Deoran. He just didn’t if he could help it. Despite his dislike of both dancing and social events, he felt a deep contentment settling over him.
He felt Brea shift her head on his shoulder, and twisted his own head to look at her. She was smiling at him, and he felt himself returning the smile. Something was different tonight, and he somehow knew that even though they’d said nothing, something fundamental was changing.
That thought should have frightened him. His friendship with Brea had become one of the foundations of his life here, and he didn’t want to risk it. Yet, somehow, he wasn’t afraid. He continued to smile as Brea returned her head to his shoulder.
Despite his worries, everything seemed right with the world.
They left the dance floor walking hand in hand. Tal wasn’t entirely certain how that had happened, he only knew that at some point as they’d separated from the dance their hands had touched, and they hadn’t let go since.
He knew he couldn’t stop smiling, at Brea and at anyone else, but he didn’t feel like stopping either. He and Brea slowly made their way towards the side of the hall, weaving their away around everyone.
Halfway there, a Battlemage in full formalwear intercepted them. Tal watched the man’s eyes track down his arm to the linked hands, then snap back up to his face.
“Initiate Tal’raen?” the Mage asked.
Tal regretfully slipped his hand free of Brea’s. “Yes?” he acknowledged.
“Will you come with me, please?” the older man asked.
“Certainly, Mage,” Tal agreed unwillingly after a moment. He didn’t want to leave Brea’ahrn, but he had his duties. His oaths.
“Wait a minute,” Brea broke in. “Go with you where?”
“Initiate Tal’raen has been summoned to the Last Chapel to face his Trial of Adepthood,” the Mage told them formally.
Tal froze. “I’m not old enough to face the Trial,” he objected.
“I know,” the Mage admitted. “Nonetheless, you have been called to face it.”
He looked at Brea helplessly. “Brea…” he said softly. “I have to go.”
She stepped back from him and nodded. “Tal… go,” she told him after a moment’s pause. “You have to. But come back to me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked.
“I don’t know…” she admitted. “I just have this feeling.”
He smiled at her again and nodded. “I promise.”
Tal’s Battlemage escort stopped in a tunnel that, to Tal, was no different than any other tunnel. Inky blackness strove against the small light generated by the flames floating in their hand.
“I leave you here, Initiate,” the man said quietly, looking ahead into the gloom. “The path is there, if you look the right way. Good luck.” He clasped Tal’s shoulder, then let go, vanishing into the dark.
Tal looked around him by the eerie light of his magefire. Shadows flickered at him, but nothing to show a path.
“If you look the right way,” he repeated to himself. What way can I look that I’m not? There’s nothing! I’ve been abandoned down here. With a jerk, he regained control of himself.
In his momentary panic, he’d allowed the magefire to die. He was about to rekindle it when he began to be able see. The gloom didn’t seem to change, but he could see through it.
Darklight. Different from normal light in that only Death Magi had ever been able to see by it. It was fitting that the way to the Last Chapel was lit with it. He looked around and saw the path. Marked by crystals mounted in the walls, emanating darklight, it led off to his right.
He followed it. As he stepped between the first darklight crystals, they flared up until the darklight was as bright as noon sunlight, to him at least. Walking forward, the bright light followed him, crystals lighting up in front of him and fading down behind him.
The path terminated at a wall of murky black even the darklight didn’t light. It wavered and flowed between the walls, in an arch marked by pure black granite.
Tal stopped before it, watching it. This was the barrier. If it rejected him now, he would fail the trial. It would be over a year until he would be allowed to try again.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the murky curtain.
Welcome, Initiate Tal’raen, to the Last Chapel.
Who are you? Tal’raen found himself floating in murk. His body didn’t seem to be here, just his consciousness floating in inky blackness.
I am the Last Chapel, the voice replied. The central place of all that you are and will be. I am the barrier. Do you know what I am?
A spellmind, the youth replied. The sentience within the spells, born of the magic. Tal’raen felt more comfortable now. Questions he could answer, no matter how strange the environment they were asked in.
Amusement came from the spellmind. Amusement – and something akin to anger. That’s what they tell you now is it? It has been long since one came to me who knew the truth.
The truth? Tal demanded.
Are you ready for the truth, Initiate Tal’raen? it asked. I warn you, it will destroy much of what you believe about your people. It may destroy you, and if you fail after learning you will never leave this place. This nothingness will be your home for eternity, and your body will die.
Die? Tal repeated slowly.
Die, the spellmind confirmed. The truth will make you or destroy you utterly. To turn back now is not folly, it is not sin. It is a choice that you must make, and that you must judge.
Tal hesitated. He was afraid. But he would not fail… Tell me.
Tell? the spellmind laughed. No. It cannot be told. It must be shown…
Light surrounded Tal, shifted, changed, and then everything was dark. A different dark, a real dark.
“They’re coming,” a voice said.
“Dammit, how did they get past the barriers to get their monsters in here?” another voice asked.
“The Four have sold their souls to Chaos,” the first voice said. “This is a battle we cannot win.”
“The relief force will come,” the second speaker said firmly.
“So you say!” the first snarled.
Voices swirled around, an argument. As Tal’s spirit adjusted to the darkness, he recognized the place. It was the catacombs he’d found the path to the Chapel in. Dozens of people, including two Battlemagi and a Life Mage, huddled together. All of them were ragged, with a look of fear in their faces.
The Battlemagi were the worst. Their formal battle robes were ragged and torn, which was nearly impossible. Blood dripped from wounds across their bodies and faces, but the man and woman stood facing the way in.
“At least let me heal you, if they’re coming!” the Life Mage exclaimed.
“No, Kiri,” the first
speaker said finally. “We have to hold them.”
What’s going on here? Tal demanded. The High City has never fallen!
Wrong, the spellmind responded. It fell. During the War of the Four, the First Swarm took the city. Almost everything died. Only a handful still lived when the Battle Lord Tre’min led a relief force of Battlemagi to the city’s rescue. It cut off any further comment with a single word, watch.
“Take care of the people,” the Battlemage continued, “get them to safety.”
The Life Mage – Kiri – led the non-Magi back.
“Does she know there’s no way out of this place except where we’re standing?” the older-looking Mage asked.
“No,” the first speaker replied. “None of them do.”
“Dammit, Trel’kor,” the other Mage cursed, but there was no energy in it. She was too tired for that. “They’re all going to die, because we can’t hold those bastards long enough, even if Lord Tre’min comes.”
“We’re not going to Del’sar,” Trel’kor said flatly.
“What do you mean?” the older Mage, Del’sar, demanded.
“You are going to go back there and take care of them,” the younger one replied.
“And what the hell are you going to be doing?” Del’sar snapped.
“Saving them.” With those words, the Mage – Trel’kor – pulled a knife from his belt. The second item he removed was a dark red crystal.
“You can’t be serious!” Del’sar snarled.
“Do we have a choice?” Trel’kor asked softly.
“I won’t let you do this!” the older Mage told him.
“Unfortunately, you can’t stop me,” Trel said quietly, wrapping his shields around himself as he spoke.
The older Mage slumped as the shields blocked her from her friend. “Damn you Trel,” she said quietly. “I can’t just watch you kill yourself!”
Kill himself? Tal demanded of the spellmind.
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