The Shard of Fire (The Chronicles of Gilgamesh Row Book 1)

by K. J. Parker

  Gale forces shuddered down the valley. An avalanche of stone and rock and water exploded from RavensKeep, twirling and churning against the mountains, it spewed and poured and rushed from the castle, crashing over the butte, crashing down onto the valley, and the town, and all whose torment, and fortune, was held there now and forever.

  Eventually, the ocean waters stopped, for it was never an ocean, but magic, great, and terrible, and never again. When the water drained from the mages chamber, and the castle, and the butte, it filled the valley for it had nowhere else to go. The town of Mendoc was dead. All of it, and everyone, drowned and lost, buried under waves, and rock, and death. The butte remained, now an island atop a great lake surrounded by forests and mountains, who peaks seems much nearer, and darker, for the voice of thousands dead and drowned cried out, and darkened a rising sun.

  -------

  “A bird?” Cassandra snapped.

  “Yes.” Gil replied flatly.

  “And a fish?” she asked again, for the third time.

  “Yes.”

  “Gave you an Ardent Coat and an Elder Sword?” Gil thought the archmage’s tone was somewhere between complete disbelief and total abject mocking.

  “Yes …” Gil sighed. The cavern was silent, again. No one spoke. Several hours had passed. Valik and Aldrin still manned the barrier with healing support from Sela to refresh their magics, while the others continued discussing. Cassandra had answered their questions as much as she could, or perhaps, was willing to, Gil thought.

  There were three demons, and a cult, long ago. A blood cult, a dark cult, followers of Vashna, and death. Three demons whose names were all but forgotten. First, was Sama, the archmage, who could shape change into a creature of impossible speed and cunning. Next there was Torrik, the Giant, said to have the strength of a thousand men, wicked and vicious to the bone. Lastly, there was Melinda, the witch of shadows, a vile creature by all accounts, though little else was know of her. Yet all were soul eaters, all, monsters. When they were defeated by the Ardents long ago, they were buried in secret, and buried alive, for none knew how to kill them. Their tombs were spread across the kingdoms, hidden, and forgotten, and those that had buried them, were killed. The Ardents had tried to erase all knowledge of the demons from time, hoping that alone, would keep them safe. They were wrong.

  “Kan doc de va san kit a?” Valik asked, breaking the long silence in the dark. Cassandra paused, thinking, then replied, with anger, in the same strange language.

  “What?” Gil snapped at them both. He was growing tired of secrets.

  “He thinks they were Fae,” Cassandra answered. “Master Valik thinks you met Fae, and they gave you these items …”

  “But you don’t?” Sela interrupted.

  Cassandra mused for a bit before answering. “No one has ever met a Fae. Not ever. Not in ten thousand years, if you believe the stories …”

  “No one’s ever claimed the shard, or freed a demon before, either …” Carmine interrupted, smiling, though no one could see it, and perhaps for the better.

  “A shard,” Aldrin corrected.

  “What do you mean?” Gil asked.

  “A shard, not the shard. It’s not the only one,” Aldrin replied. The room was silent once more.

  Cassandra spoke before more questions came. “There are six shards, though, other than us, and my brother, and now you four, very few people know that. It’s a legend from the beginning. Six shards, six points on the star of Saa-Faa, that were—”

  “The what?” Gil broke in.

  “Arghhh …” Cassandra snapped, she hated to be interrupted. “The Star of Saa-Faa is the physical embodiment of the inner star. An amulet, made of six parts, six shards. Each shard represents one of the six aspects of the mind, the inner star, that enable magic, that are magic, made whole. Shards that focus and amplify magic … if you believe the legends.”

  “And where are the other five shards?” Carmine asked.

  “No one knows. Lost. Hidden. The only one that’s ever been known, was the one you have, Gil … the one that was in the statute in Astal. No one knows where the others are …” Cassandra mused silently for a while.

  “Why does Sama want Gil’s shard?” Tarr asked.

  “I …” Cassandra paused, thinking.

  “Maybe to free the other demons?” Carmine questioned. Cassandra didn’t answer. Water dripping from the barrier echoed in the cavern. “He wants it to free the other demons? the same way we freed him?” no one answered.

  “Sama doesn’t need it for that …” Valik said, still sitting by the barrier in the dark, “the Ardent mages poured all their magics into sealing Sama away, not the others. He wouldn’t need the shard to free them, if he finds them …"

  “If he’s that powerful, than why didn’t he finish us all off, here and now when he had the chance?” Carmine asked.

  “I told you …” Cassandra breathed, “He’s a soul eater. The pact he made with Vashna, he’s a conduit. He consumes people, body and soul, and channels their life force to Vashna. In return he accesses the dark god’s powers, terrible powers that consume him in return, and so he must eat, people, constantly. The more power he gains, the more he must consume. It’s a never ending trap, you see, for him, for everyone. Sama and the other demons will destroy the world in their hunger. Why didn’t he kill us you ask? … most likely … after a thousand years in that coffin, he was weak. Too long without a meal, without power. You saw him, what he is, what he can do, and that was when he was weak. Still, against three archmages, and the three of you, and Gil, it would have been difficult, even for him … besides, we had the Elder Sword.”

  “What do you mean?” Tarr interrupted.

  Carmine spoke up, this one he did know. “There are only three things in this world that can injury a demon, the Light of Valor, whose eternal flame dwells forever in the sacred gardens of—”

  “Religious myth,” Aldrin interrupted.

  “The Kraken Wand which is believed to lay at the bottom of the dark sea guarded by a horde of man eating leviathans …”

  “A bedtime story,” Aldrin spat.

  “And of course Elder Weapons, which some say were forged with Fae magic … though they were all lost long ago …” Carmine stopped, Aldrin was silent, and in the dark, everyone stared at Gil, and his sword.

  “It doesn’t matter anyways!” Sela cried out, fear crackling in her voice, “You couldn’t even hit him! Not once, not any of you! If Sama was weak before, how do you plan to use the sword once he’s strong again?” Sela laughed a bit, hysterically, “I mean what you're saying is, he left us, to go eat, right?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra whispered.

  “Then why does he want the shard?” Gil asked, but no one answered.

  “Perhaps the shard can hurt him? He wanted to take it from you so you couldn’t use it against him?” Sela spoke a glimmer of hope in her voice.

  “No, I don’t think so …” Valik said softly, trying not to discourage the girl. “The shards are not weapons, not really. We don’t know much about them, but what little is written of them says that each shard is quite different than the next, but mostly they protect, like wards, guardians if you will, they don’t harm.”

  Sela rubbed at the burnt runes in her palms. Protection. The echo of water dripping from the barrier sounded in the cavern, as Carmine stroked at his chin, thinking.

  “But then how did Gil use it to kill the—”

  “Fire.” Gil blurted out.

  “What?” Tarr asked.

  “Fire. Valik’s right. My shard, it protects against fire. Think back, when we were at the greenwood inn. I put my hands in the fire, yet I wasn’t hurt at all.” Gil held up his hands, which no one could see.

  “But you just burnt this bastard to a crisp?” Carmine piped in, pointing in the dark.

  “Ah … yea but that wasn’t the shard, well not alone. That was a spell I learned … er … found—” Gil cut himself short.

  “Where?” A
ldrin snapped.

  “Uh … well, I may have borrowed a book or two from the library …" Gil paused waiting for one or more of the archmages to yell at him, “ … anyways the shard … it protected me from the flames … but it wasn’t the shard that moved them.”

  “But you killed the Mallock?” Carmine asked.

  “Yes, but … uh … that … was a rune … that …” Gil stopped again.

  “That what?” Valik’s voice gritted in his throat.

  “That Sama taught me. Well, not exactly … I may have changed a thing or two, but again it wasn’t the shard, not directly anyways.”

  “IDIOT,” Cassandra breathed out trying to calm herself.

  “Well that makes even less sense …” Carmine mused, “if the shards are just protective amulets, why would Sama need one? From what you all say he’s already damn near invincible, so why bother trying to take the shard from Gil?” Everyone was silent for a very long time.

  Eventually Sela spoke up, almost whispering, “Maybe the shards do something else, too? I mean you said you don’t know much about them, right?” But no one answered. The passageway barrier had broke, and water rushed in.

  CHAPTER 16: WATERS DEEP

  The barrier that Valik and Aldrin had been maintaining finally gave way. When it did, tiny bits of webbed roots, and bubbles, flooded into the cavern atop waves of rushing flowing water. The archmages, and the four friends tumbled about, smashing against the walls, choking and coughing and fighting against the torrent for several minutes, gasping for breath. Soon after, the water inside the tomb quickly lowered, spilling away into cracks and crevices far below in the earth. Whether by chance, or fate, the entrance to the cavern was above the water's edge, now that the storm of the ocean had stopped, and the tempest, calmed.

  Torches relit, the group ran back out of the passageway, up through the winding maze of underground tunnels, up the darkened staircase, up through the broken stone doorway, halting at the edge of the small cave, for before them lay a different world. The narrow valley was gone. An immense lake now ebbed at the graveyard's edge, reflecting the gaze of a thousand clouds overhead, shadows of violet, and grey, lapping at their feet. The town was gone. The river, the bridge, all of it gone, buried for all time, under an ocean and sea of water, gone and dead and lost forever. Ahead, an island loomed, edged in granite, with steep banks, and stairs which led to nowhere, only down, and only to the depths below. The group sat in silence, staring at the edge of the lake, sitting for a great long while.

  When they were ready, Valik summoned a makeshift boat, flat, wrapped of vines, and sealed with Aldrin’s energy spell. It floated, well enough, and the group rode it towards the island in the lake. Cassandra stood at the bow of the boat, staring at the castle. She was silent, as she searched out with her mind, looking for her brother. The water was choppy, and cruel, for it was a lake born of darkness. Many bodies floated near the boat as they drew closer to the island. Sela and Tarr chanted druid prayers for the dead, freeing their spirits as the bodies sunk below. Gil watched the shoreline along the mountains. How many had died because of him? How many more, would? He watched the far bank behind them now, gazing at tips of pine and cedar lapping in the water, once giants, now reed in the deep. He stared, searching, glancing at shadows in the forest, at the shore, and at eyes, he could feel, staring back.

  At the castle, some, had survived. A dozen students ran to island’s bank as the boat approached. They stood, silent, waiting, watching as the group landed, desperate for guidance. Cassandra jumped from the bow and ran past the onlookers without a word. The others in the boat quickly followed her, only Valik paused for a moment to command those standing on the shore to action. Assess the castle, supplies, and survivors. Gather the injured, and the dead, heal those they could, burn or sink those they couldn’t. Most importantly, send a raven to the capital, to the King, and to the Order. Sama has returned.

  -------

  Monith lay on his back staring at the hollow ocean glass above him. It was a choice, his choice. The gash at his side no longer bled for he had no more to give. His skin was pale and clammy and cold. Cassandra screamed at him, but it was a sound far off and distant, like a bell muffled in fog. The others stood around the room, silent, waiting. It wouldn’t be long. Monith patted his sister’s face, anger wouldn’t save them now. Monith called Valik to him, taking the bronze star from around his neck, pushing it into the Crimson Wizard’s hand. Valik didn’t want it, not like this, but refusal wasn’t possible. Cassandra and Aldrin would need his help, now more than ever, and from the look on their faces, there wasn’t anyone else left who could.

  Gil stood silent along the wall. This was his fault, all of it. Monith smiled and motioned the boy forward. Reluctant, Gil neared, glancing at Aldrin whose face was unemotional, at Cassandra who glared with blame, and at Valik who nodded, reassuringly. Monith motioned for Gil to bend down, closer, closer, then whispered in the boy’s ear and smiled. All three archmages leaned forward but couldn’t hear the exchange. For a moment Gil paused, staring Monith in the face, then stood and walked away. Cassandra’s eyes followed Gil across the room, as the boy resumed his place against the far wall, near his friends.

  Monith smiled at them all, comforting, with hope. “Everything happens for a reason …” Monith whispered, lifting his hand, reaching out, then silence. His hand fell back, slapping against his chest, a heavy wet thud, squishing against his water soaked clothes, his fingers frozen, wretched and extended, like a claw towards the sky. Cassandra breathed heavy, and hard, clenching her fists. Valik took a slight step between her and Gil, as did Aldrin.

  “What did he say?!” Cassandra snapped at the boy.

  Gil glanced around, at his friends, at the archmages, at Monith, and shrugged. “Uh … well nothing really … he said he like my coat, I think he just didn’t want me to worry, I guess …” Gil tried to smile. He wasn’t sure if they believed him, and didn’t care if they did. Far too many people were dead, for him to care. Cassandra glared at the boy but didn’t speak.

  “What now?” Sela asked.

  The archmages glanced at each other. What now indeed. Valik stepped forward, assertive, glancing at the others, their hope faltering, “OK, first thing, we should—"

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” Gil interrupted, “how is it that the old mage, Sama I mean, was in my village? How was that possible, If he was locked away in that coffin all this time?”

  The archmages glanced at each other again, their faces mixed with concern and uncertainty. “What you saw in your village wasn’t him, not really …” Aldrin answered. “The Ardents buried him alive, trapped for a thousand years, but Sama was one of the greatest mages ever to have lived. Evil, but great. Locked away all that time … he must have found a way to escape, in part, projecting his spirit, even if his body couldn’t leave. It’s not all that unreasonable to assume. Cassandra’s own powers are rather similar, actually …" Cassandra glared at Aldrin, she didn’t want to think how similar their powers actually were.

  “Ah … I see,” Gil mumbled.

  Valik nodded. “Right. OK, we need to assess the castle, locate all the masters, and—”

  “I’m sorry but I have another question. If Sama was able to project his spirit all the way to Astal, do you think … he could have gone to other places, also?” everyone turned at Gil, “I mean … well, the sorcerer, he was in my village, in the competition. Sama defended me from him, but that was a trick, I get it, I see it now. The whole thing was one big lie to get me to come here, to open his coffin. He saved me from the battle and transported me into the mountains, out of reach of anyone, everyone. But … he didn’t know what would happen after that. He can’t see what will happen, it was … a plan. Plans take time, plans change. He didn’t know I would find the Ardent Coat, or the Elder Sword, or meet the Fae, he didn’t know what would happen, at least … not everything …"

  “What do you mean?” Tarr asked confused.

  “I met yo
u.” Gil looked at both Tarr and Sela, their faces confused, hurt. Gil smiled, he wasn’t accusing, just thinking, realising much for the first time. “And Carmine. Unforeseen and unknown. He wanted me, told me, not to make friends. He wanted me to release him, alone, so it would kill me when I did, and it almost did, had it not been for you three. The burden was spread among us, and the shard, and so we, I, survived. It wasn’t part of his plan. He thought it would be easy, it wasn’t. Then, the three of you showed up …” Gil nodded to the archmages, “again unplanned. But then … the sorcerer arrived exactly when he was most needed by Sama. Why? How? And where from?” Everyone was silent. “I came over the mountains and that took months, but the road? From here to Astal? It’s a year’s journey, minimum. So how did the sorcerer show up at just at the right time?”