“We are sorry, Galen,” Kell said “for the trials you have suffered in the performance of our task. We did not know the full danger of the situation, else we would not have sent you into it.” He paused running an index finger over his goatee, and Galen got the strange impression that Kell was afraid.
Then Kell continued and the moment passed. “Tell us all that has happened since the death of Burell.” He extended two fingers toward Galen in a precise gesture, then sat, hunched forward his attention fixed.
Galen did not want to be there, did not want to think of it, did not want to speak of it. Yet he found himself recounting the events in an even, unemotional voice. Inside, quietly, the restless energy stirred his anger and grief growing as he recited the actions that had led to Isabelle’s death. Did Kell not carry some responsibility for the actions of his students?
The Circle listened without reaction until Galen began to repeat Elizar’s accusations toward Kell.
“Elizar said that Kell had known the Shadows were returning for over a year. Elizar said there was a reason Kell kept his knowledge secret.”
Kell’s face remained impassive. Yet the other mages looked now from Galen to Kell.
Galen found the intensity of his voice growing. “Elizar said there was a reason the Circle had sent Isabelle and me on this task, rather than mages with more experience. He said we should never have been involved.”
Elric turned toward him, gave a sharp, encouraging nod.
“Elizar said that we must forswear the Circle and swear loyalty to him, before he would show us the evidence he had obtained from Kell’s place of power.”
Blaylock grunted.
“When we refused Elizar told us we could not be allowed to live, not with Isabelle able to decode the Shadow signals. We were attacked by the three from Zafran 8—Tilar, the Drakh, and Brown. Elizar told them no, not yet, but they attacked anyway.”
Kell’s shoulders straightened, as if he were relieved to hear of Elizar’s action. Galen would end that soon enough.
“At first Elizar and Razeel did not attack. Yet they had reinforced the walls of the tavern with their power, so we could not escape. After I killed the Drakh and drove off Tilar, Elizar and Razeel took over the fight. Isabelle’s shield had been so bombarded that she could not protect us both. She chose—to protect me.” Galen remembered Elizar cupping his hands in front of his mouth, jerking as he released the long, deadly syllable. Anger flashed through Galen. He bit out the words. “It was Elizar’s spike”—in his mind he hurled the word at Kell—“that killed Isabelle.”
Kell’s eyes flared wide, and they were filled with flames. He swept to his feet, bringing his staff to bear on Galen. “That is a damnable lie! Elizar is innocent. He could not—”
Energy surged through Galen at the threat of an attack. Yet as he held to it, watching avidly for a strike, Kell faltered. Kell’s gestures, his words, his expressions were always perfectly formulated. But now he was at a loss.
Kell spread his arms to appeal to the Circle. “This is impossible. Elizar would not—” He whipped his fiery gaze back to Galen, as if his eyes could burn the lies out. Galen glared back, willing the truth to brand itself onto Kell’s soul.
Slowly, Kell’s arms lowered, forgotten, to his sides. The flames faded from his eyes. And then something in his dark, lined face shifted, some underlying structure that could no longer support itself. Galen thought of the image Elizar had conjured long ago, of Elric’s circle of standing stones, crumbling. Kell’s face had crumbled.
Kell shook his head. “You must be mistaken. That cannot be so. Elizar would never—could never—” The staff slipped from his hand, dropped silently away.
He collapsed to his knees with a great, anguished howl. “No! No. Have I been such a fool?” Kell looked up at the Circle, his mouth open in despair. His platform with the great stone chair sank to the ground, dissolved.
Galen stood unmoving as the others swooped down around Kell. Anger raced through him now, threatening to overwhelm him. He must turn his back on it, he must not feel it, for it carried too much pain. He would lose all control. He must not speak, he must not move. He must hold himself in stillness. He must feel nothing. He must be nothing.
Kell was on his knees, his fists curled on his legs. Although the rest of the Circle clustered around him, he looked broken and alone.
“You have been trying to protect us from the Shadows,” Elric said. “Tell us what went wrong.”
Kell looked up at Galen, held out a hand. “I am so sorry, boy. I have misjudged. I have misjudged. I am a foolish old man.”
Galen did not move.
“Tell us all,” Blaylock demanded.
Ing-Radi handed Kell his staff, and Kell braced it on the floor, climbed to his feet. The weight of his body seemed a horrible burden. His gaze swept over them all, pained yet still powerful. As he spoke, no gestures enhanced his words. One hand held to the staff; the other hung at his side. Although his voice retained its resonance, the certainty had gone out of it.
“It began exactly as Elizar said. It was nearly two years ago that I found the first indication of the Shadows’ return. With that, I launched a search and found more. I knew what this would mean for us, and what it would mean for everyone. We have all read the ancient texts. I realized that we had no chance of fighting the Shadows unless we knew their secrets, their powers, their defenses.”
Elizar had said he knew things that would turn Galen’s understanding of the universe on its head. He had told the truth. Their task had been needless. Burell had died, and Isabelle had died, in the attempt to know what was already known.
Galen wanted to curse Kell, to burn him with eyes of fire, to break him. Yet Kell was already broken. Elizar’s betrayal had broken him. And Galen had to remain still, or the pain would find him.
Kell continued. “The only way to discover their secrets was to have one of our number pretend to ally with the Shadows. The time to act was immediately, while the Shadows still believed their presence secret. But this deception could not be designed with planning and consultation. I feared that if our agent was discovered, our hand would be revealed, and the Shadows would turn against all of us. The best one to send, as always, is the one who does not know he is sent. Then if he is discovered, he will say he went alone, of his own free will. And we cannot be held to account.”
Blaylock’s eyes narrowed. “You manipulated Elizar, your own apprentice, as you would an outsider?”
Kell gave a single nod. “I baited Elizar with the story of Carvin invading Alwyn’s place of power. I knew he could not resist the challenge.” Kell’s eyes narrowed with pride at the memory. “I allowed him to gain access to certain of my files, so that he would discover on his own the return of the Shadows and”—his gaze flicked toward Galen—“what this would mean to the techno-mages. He was angry at what I had hidden from him, though he said nothing. Yet I never doubted that he would work for the good of the techno-mages, that he would come to the same conclusion I had and do what was necessary to gain information for all of us. He has always dreamed of fighting for right, of regaining our glory.
“I left him clues, hints so that he could make contact with the minions of the Shadows. And soon he did. He began to gather information from them, which I would access secretly from his files. They did not tell him much, always promising more after he was initiated.”
Again Elizar had spoken the truth, though only the truth as far as he knew it. Galen had studied the various methods of manipulation, and Kell’s technique was one of the classics. Yet applied to Kell’s own apprentice, it was a violation of trust. Galen could not imagine Elric manipulating him this way.
“I know that his alliance with the Shadows was feigned—at least at first. We all heard Galen and—Isabelle—say that he had warned them about a threat, that he was anxious to learn their spells to gain power to fight the threat.”
“Or power for himself and the Shadows,” Blaylock said.
Kell�
�s hand tightened about his staff. “When Blaylock questioned Elizar about this threat, I turned the questioning to other issues. If the truth had come out, Elizar would have become contaminated and useless as our tool. When Burell brought her evidence before us, I suggested we send two inexperienced initiates, hoping they would find nothing. Once the Circle had clear evidence of the Shadows’ presence, the mages would be forced to act, and we were not ready to act. We did not have enough information about the Shadows. We still do not. And yet now we are forced to act.”
So Elizar had told the truth about that as well. Kell had sent them to fail. Kell had thought he could manipulate them all, could acquire information from one, could keep information from the rest. He had thought he could control all, control the Shadows, control chaos. He had thought he could impose his design upon the universe. And his arrogance had cost the lives of Isabelle and Burell.
“It was also important that the task fail,” Kell said “because once other mages came in direct contact with the Shadows, the Shadows themselves would have to act. Then Elizar would be forced to take one side or the other, and his ability to gather information would end.”
“He did choose a side,” Ing-Radi said. “But it was not the one you expected.”
Kell cast his gaze upward his face in lines of despair. “Even now I cannot believe it.”
What Elizar’s original intentions had been, or whether they had changed Galen could not say. His faith in his friend, and his confidence that he knew that friend had been destroyed.
And what did it matter? If Elizar ever had planned to betray the Shadows and bring his knowledge back to the mages, somewhere along the way—perhaps as he read Kell’s files, perhaps as he sat at that table in the tavern, acting like their friend—he had decided instead to use that knowledge for himself. Among the truths he had told them was hidden that one lie—the lie that he did what he did for the good of the mages.
Galen believed that good, at least, had been Kell’s true goal, as wrong as his methods had been. Galen and Isabelle had been caught between them, between the lies of one and the lies of the other. Meanwhile, the Shadows had remained in the background protected. They were the true enemy—they, and Elizar, their servant. Galen focused on that, a subject that satisfied the anger without releasing the pain. The mages would now dedicate themselves to fighting the Shadows, to stopping their war. And they would hunt down Elizar and flay him.
“What of Tilar’s chrysalis?” Blaylock asked.
“I know nothing of that,” Kell said.
Blaylock’s voice was harsh and certain. “Your deception of Elizar violated solidarity, and more, the bond between teacher and apprentice. Your deception of the rest of us not only violated the Code, but undermined the Circle.”
“I believed I acted for the benefit of all,” Kell said, “and I believed secrecy was best. Elizar is not the only mage whose allegiance the Shadows have tried to secure.”
Kell was right, Galen thought. Elric had said Morden approached many at the convocation. If any of them turned to the Shadows, they too would be hunted down, destroyed.
“Perhaps it was arrogance,” Kell said. “I believed that Elizar and I could save the mages.”
“It is arrogance indeed,” Blaylock said, “to doubt the allegiance of the Circle and trust in your student who consorts with Shadows.”
Elric stepped forward, and Galen noticed an odd hesitance in the action. His voice, though, was at its most powerful and frightening. “You played a chess game with the lives of those who put their trust in us. You sent two fresh out of the chrysalis into danger to protect your secret. You sent them to face the Shadows when there was no need. And as we stood here and voted to send them, you withheld information so that your plan would prevail.” Elric’s lips formed a grim line. “That was the moment when you had to tell us. You had to stop it.”
Kell bowed his head, his shoulders hunched. “You speak wisely. Yet I never—never imagined ...” He straightened, and his gaze took in each of them in turn. As his dark eyes met Galen’s, Galen realized that something was about to be lost, something fundamental to the mages, and something that could never be recovered. “At this most desperate time, I have made matters even worse. Two mages are dead, and two others have joined with the Shadows. I have brought tragedy upon us, and how much more will follow, I cannot say. I am no longer one of the Circle. I do not deserve to be.” With that, Kell strode from the chamber.
Elric started after him, and Blaylock seized his arm. “He spoke the truth,” Blaylock said. “Let him go.”
Elric turned on Blaylock, eyes narrowed, three lines of tension between his brows. “Release me.”
Blaylock let go and inclined his head. “My apologies.”
Elric looked after Kell, but did not follow.
Despite all Kell had done, Galen couldn’t believe he had resigned from the Circle. He had led them for nearly fifty years, all of Galen’s life and nearly all of Elric’s. Without him, and without Elizar and Razeel, they had lost the line of Wierden.
“We must—” Herazade looked stunned. “We must decide on a course of action.”
“There is only one option,” Blaylock said. “We must flee.”
Elric turned from the stone archway that marked the exit. “We have not yet heard all of Galen’s account. It is the best information we have. Should we not hear it before deciding our future?”
The meeting resumed, but now there was an empty space in the semicircle of seats, an emptiness at the center. Staring into that emptiness, Galen returned to that day, to that place, to that spike, to the fragile body spasming beneath his. He strove for the calm with which he had begun. In the absence of that, he imagined driving the spike down Elizar’s own throat.
Yet even that did not protect him from the pain. He had to separate himself from his words, from his body. He had to go elsewhere, to that place deep inside where he hid from himself.
He told them of the escape from the tavern, the explosion of the ship, Morden’s offer, Isabelle’s death. When he spoke of her death, it seemed as if surely the tents must collapse, the rocky cliffside crumble. Yet all continued as before, except that she was gone. And so he was supposed to continue.
They dismissed him, and he wandered from the tents into the night, watching absently as a mage ship rose off of the mak. Using his sensors, he located the three frequencies high in the ultraviolet. This ship was marked with Kell’s rune. It shot into the sky. He was leaving them.
Galen found his legs had stopped a few yards from the tents. Everything was about to change. Perhaps the tents had not collapsed the cliffs had not crumbled. But the mages would never be the same again. Isabelle and Burell were lost. The Circle was missing its leader. The Shadows had returned, and Morden had moved among them searching for allies. Galen felt that if he took another step, it would all collapse.
Carvin approached him, her eyes wide with caution. She looked different without the ponytail of hair bouncing behind her. It seemed as if something was missing. He hadn’t noticed when she’d come to Brensil.
“Is the Circle finished with you?” she asked.
“Yes.” She was a few inches shorter than Isabelle. That was why Isabelle’s wrists had stuck out from the sleeves of her robe. Carvin had one hand clenched in the other. Isabelle’s fingers were longer, stronger.
“Circe believes that the convocation may not end in the morning, as scheduled. Have you heard anything like that?”
“No.” He realized it was New Year’s Eve on Earth, the last night of the convocation.
She was regarding him oddly, eyes wide, lips sucked inward, as if she didn’t know whether she should speak. A question came to him.
“Do you know why you were chosen to go to Brensil?” he asked.
“Alwyn sent me on a scavenger hunt as a way of getting me used to my new ship. It happened I was about half a day closer to Brensil than anyone else when your message came.” She hesitated. “I’m glad I was able to pick you up.”
His curiosity satisfied, Galen said nothing more. Carvin remained before him, and her lips once again retracted inward. He could not imagine what else there was to say.
At last her lips parted. “You know the custom among us.” She spoke slowly, as if to someone who must be led carefully to the truth. “When an elderly mage passes, his wishes are followed. Or if no wishes are specified, the place of power is often used, or it is left to any who have been his students...” Her twisted hands came apart. She reached with one into the pocket of her robe, came out with a small vial.
It lay on her palm, the final, crushing reality.
He and Elric had released his parents’ ashes around their adjoining places of power. Galen had thrown their ashes into the winds hoping he could lose his memories of them as well, consign them to oblivion. Yet still they haunted him.
And now, what was he to do with Isabelle? He would cherish his memories of her for as long as he could hold them. But her memories were not held in this vial of ash.
She had died too young for students, too young for a place of power. Her home had been destroyed.
Then he realized that she did have a special place, a place of power that would have been hers, had she lived. The Well of Forever. He would find that place for her, that source of tech and of knowledge, and when he did, he would pour her ashes on that sacred ground where so many of their kind had been brought before. And he would use the knowledge left by her and Burell to try to find the answers she had so desired.
He took the vial from Carvin. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She retreated hastily.
He had told no one that he carried pieces of their knowledge, not even the Circle. He had inherited them, and although they were just bits of what they had thought, what they had known, they were his.
Galen opened the vial, touched his fingertip to the top layer of ash. He vaguely remembered Isabelle saying she didn’t want his soul to burn to ash. Yet here it was. He turned his finger over. A few grains clung to the skin. He rubbed them between thumb and forefinger, accessing their chemical composition. He remembered running his finger down her temple, collecting the elegant chemical compounds that comprised her essence. None of the compounds he had detected then survived in these dry grains of ash. There was the calcium phosphate of bone, a trace of phosphorus, a bit of carbon residue that had refused to completely burn. The compounds were jumbled together. They had lost the order, the pattern they had held in life. All was reduced to chaos. She was gone.
Casting Shadows (The Passing of the Techno-Mages #1) Page 33