Is it true then what I’ve heard? Galan sent strong emotions with the words, longing and curiosity.
For the first time as he looked at her, Seth saw Galan as different, beautiful. Suddenly uneasy and not understanding why, Seth stared down at his books. Their strange ideas pollute my mind even now.
Then it is true.
Seth wavered his head left and then right in acknowledgment.
Galan asked, What do you find most odd about them?
Seth smiled. Galan had the insatiable curiosity of a preborn child. She held the same view of looking at the world. She saw things as flashes of colors and feelings. Only Galan would ask what he found most odd about them. I find them most odd. Everything about them. This notion of marriage. Their idea of distinct gender. Their class structure. They would find me calling you, Brother, very odd.
Why is that? Galan scratched at her side. Why has Queen Mother told you to study their ways?
Will you stand my watch again this day?
Galan answered not with words, but with feelings, playfulness.
There were times Seth could easily forget Galan had only recently ascended. At times like now, however, he was painfully aware of it. Galan had many seasons of maturing ahead. Yet, Seth also knew that beneath the facade of youth lurked a mind that was quick and strong, already nearly a match for his own—which when he had ascended had also been advanced. In twelve short seasons, Galan had become the second highest of the Red Order.
Galan sent him impatience.
Seth shook his head again. All right, all right, I’ll join you… One hour away from my studies will do more good than harm.
Chapter Three:
It Begins
Days passed. News of the messenger from the Far South spread throughout Imtal Palace. Word in the halls was that it had been a personal message from King Charles of Sever. Something was terribly wrong in the small Kingdom of Sever, though none knew what it was. To Adrina it seemed servants knew more about the visit than she did. She had always been adept at gathering bits of information and tying them together, finding connections between the smallest of occurrences when there seemed none, which gave her enormous pleasure—a small triumph in an otherwise gray, boring world. She had truly done her best to listen outside the chamber doors, but had not succeeded.
Now it seemed she had a second chance. She was sure another messenger had just arrived. The palace heralds had just sounded in greeting, and minutes earlier she had heard the outer city heralds’ trumpeting calls. Adrina glanced at the flowing blue gown Lady Isador was still in the process of hemming—Lady Isador wouldn’t hear of allowing a servant to do the work. “Proper hands do proper work,” she had said and chased the servants away. That had been hours ago. It was now well past midday.
The clatter of hooves against the stones of the outer courtyard caused Adrina to jump and turn.
“Stand still, Young Highness,” said Lady Isador. “Look, look what I’ve done. I have to begin again.”
Still on her tiptoes, Adrina stared long. The sight of a sweated mount passing to the stables brought despair to her face. If she didn’t hurry she might never find out if she was right about the messenger. Think quickly, she told herself, think quickly.
“Down, down, down my dear,” said Lady Isador, “no wonder that hem looked all wrong. Mustn’t stand on tiptoes.”
Isador stopped her work and looked up at Adrina. “Oh, child, you look definitely peaked. Are you hungry? The day is long. Shall I order the midday meal?”
“Could we finish this tomorrow, Lady Isador?”
“Sixthday is only a few days away. We wouldn’t want to disappoint his lordship, the son of Klaive, would we?”
Adrina rose to her tiptoes again and turned a longing stare toward the stables.
“There goes that hem again,” muttered Lady Isador. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be, perhaps they do need a rest.”
Adrina asked, “Is that a yes?”
“Yes, Young Highness, it is.”
Seth returned from the bath to find Brother Everrelle waiting for him. Queen Mother wishes you to High Hall and would have you wait in the antechamber until her summons to enter, Everrelle said, and Seth rushed off.
Seth found the antechamber empty. He waited, his thoughts filling with dread. Hours passed.
The walls of the antechamber oscillated through casts of gray, hovering just slight of brilliant silver, then fading to a quasi-black. Oblivious to this light show playing out before his eyes, Seth sulked. He had seen it a thousand times before and would probably see it many thousands more. The subtle but swift changes were supposed to be soothing, but he wasn’t soothed.
Seth felt utterly helpless as he waited. He considered eavesdropping on those behind the closed doors. It would have been easy enough to do, a simple projecting of thoughts, nothing more. Those within would not have gone to the trouble of masking open thoughts, for the chambers did that for them. That was what the adjoining chambers had been designed for. Thoughts were enclosed within the sanctioned walls and went no further. The antechamber was considered part of the hall. There was another such chamber at the northern end. Guests could be seated in either of these chambers, and often were, and thoughts needed to pass back and forth freely. So no, the thoughts would not have been blocked to Seth. He would have only to reach out to them. Yet he did not do this for it would have breached the bounds of ethics ingrained into him since birth. He would wait and bide his time.
Seth turned his thoughts to Galan now. As they had walked to the bathing pool, distress had replaced her playfulness. Later, she had told him of Brother Liyan’s visit yesterday. Afterward she told him she had not masked her thoughts during their conversation. She had heard, seen and felt everything.
I am afraid for you my brother, but I must not say why… Galan had said. Will you promise to return to the chamber afterward?
Seth had said he would.
Seth’s thoughts became unfocused for a time. Then just when Seth thought he could wait no more, the doors swung open and the summons came.
He was shocked to see that all the members of the three councils attended and that many others streamed in through the far door. Many eyes were directed at him now and he did not know why.
There was an unusual amount of energy in the air accompanied by a strange silence, which to his prescient mind was like an unwholesome numbing. People fidgeted around in their cushioned seats or floated just above them nervously but voiced no thoughts.
Seth was beckoned to the fore, not by the flow of words or feelings to his wildly spinning mind but by the briefest stroking of his intuitive senses, a presage bundled in the form of a picture and thrust upon his mind, which was done for effect. It was such an overpowering tool that only Queen Mother would have ever resorted to its use, for any other would have provoked open wrath in the recipient and retribution would have been called for. Sure, Queen Mother could have sent simple thoughts of hot–cold and thus directed him, but any child could have done that. She wanted to stun him, and she had.
Head slightly lowered, eyes wide and upturned, Seth lurched to a perplexed halt. Words whisked through his mind as through a dream and he heard only a part of the message.
… I send my chosen protectors to return to the lands of Man as a symbol of my resolve…
Then suddenly an avalanche of voices cascaded into his head as Queen Mother’s words spawned a heated debate. Seth could only stare blankly ahead, still half in stupor as he sought to digest the multiple conversations.
Queen Mother lowered her gaze and when their eyes met a smile passed her lips—only in that instant, did Seth realize that none of the others knew what she had done to him. She had in a way stolen the words from his thoughts before he could offer protest. When he finally did come to protest it was already too late, only Seth had the misfortune of not realizing it then. He began his protest.
How can this be so? he demanded, Surely this is some sort of…
“Brother S
eth, the decision of the High Council is final as is the word of Queen Mother,” the voice that permeated the air of the great hall was Brother Liyan’s. It was not often that one of the Brotherhood spoke aloud, but this too was done for effect. Immediate silence followed.
“But I must stay here. Here is where I belong. I have sworn to the Father to protect. Send another. The Red’s first duty is to protect Queen Mother.”
“No, Brother Seth,” the voice again spoken aloud this time was Queen Mother’s and now audible gasps crisscrossed the chamber. Queen Mother never spoke aloud. “It was I who offered your services. The Brotherhood shall serve in this undertaking. It was I who said the Red would be the chosen ones.”
What of the Brown? Is this not a duty of the warrior order? Seth was just as purposeful when he responded in thought as when Queen Mother had spoken aloud. It was a small defiance, yes, but it was a defiance far greater than offering his opinion when she had obviously warned him that she wanted to hear little more than silence from him.
The presage had been her warning to him and now Seth had defied her, yet those of the council were not privy to her earlier act. So while gasps audible and inaudible—those of the mind—passed around the chamber again, Queen Mother fixed her open gaze upon him again. Under the weight of her stare he must hold his tongue, or suffer the accompanying wrath.
“Brother Seth, their part will come. It is not now.” Queen Mother again spoke aloud. “Why do you think you have been studying their ways these many past weeks?”
It is our duty, my duty, to stay. I will not go… Seth closed his mind to further thought. He did not wish to listen to any more nonsense. He had sworn with his life’s last thread that he would protect Queen Mother for all times. He would not leave her now or ever.
There was a trace of anger in Queen Mother’s countenance and the naked rendering of such a strong emotion in the company of the Council and so many others was in itself significant enough to send Seth’s knees to trembling. It wasn’t that he feared her wrath. Queen Mother held no malice within her—her eyes held only caring and her heart only love. There was greater pain than physical pain and the greatest mental anguish to his kind was shame and dishonor.
Seth? Brother Ry’al of the Blue thrust the word into his mind.
Seth refused to open his thoughts. Still the stubborn one aren’t you? Seth the protector. Can you not see? Surely, you must see it. The time is upon us. All is up to you, chastised Ry’al.
All this from Seth’s final refusal to Ry’al’s final entreaty occurred between one heartbeat and the next—the speed of pure thought.
If I must use my rank of office on you, I will. It is as it must be; no others could make the journey. What lies ahead is preordained for you, said Brother Liyan, whether you want to believe it or not, you know in your heart it is the truth.
The force of Liyan’s thoughts thrust into his mind confounded Seth and nearly sent a wave of anger rushing over him—yet he was able to turn that anger to his advantage. “I see the truth of your words, Brother Liyan of the Grey, Queen’s Counsel, greatest of the wise.” Seth spoke aloud, the precise phrasing of his words brought a partial smile to Liyan’s face.
“I make formal apology to High Council and to Queen Mother, who is the heart and soul of her people and who has wisdom second to no living mortal.”
Now Brother Liyan’s smile blossomed and broadened—this naked emotion was allowed. Wise words, he sent to Seth alone.
Seth turned to face the Council, waiting for acceptance of the apology.
Council accepts your apology, Brother Seth of the Red…
Relief passed over Seth, though the most important expression of forgiveness had not been passed yet—Queen Mother had not spoken. This never came, though Seth waited for what seemed an eternity in his turbulent thoughts.
Who will accompany me? Seth asked, breaking the silence.
I shall leave the choices up to you, Brother Seth. The voice in his mind was that of Queen Mother. I know it will be a difficult one but I have confidence in you, Brother Seth of the Red, first of that order, Queen’s Protector. You are the chosen one.
After piling the light wood cleanly on the floor next to the wood stack, Vilmos crossed to his room and changed clothes, heedless of the fixed scowl aimed directly at him. He was tardy, but only barely so. During the tangle with the bear he had lost the rope to tie around the bundle of wood. Instead of running home with a neatly tied bundle over his shoulder, he had had to walk. The walk hadn’t bothered him though; his legs had been shaky and unsteady after the encounter.
His eyes wide, Vilmos told his mother of the encounter with the bear and later about his inadvertent use of the forbidden magic. Lillath’s face turned white with horror. She swept Vilmos up in her arms.
“You poor, poor dear, frightened to death like that.”
Vilmos’ father put aside the Great Book and directed angry eyes at him. “Bear or no bear, there is no excuse for magic.”
“Yes, father, I know, but the power just comes to me. I can do nothing to stop it.”
Despite a mother’s pleading eyes, the angry words continued. “No excuses. If you had returned after gathering the wood, you never would’ve encountered the bear. You must resist the temptation to use the forbidden. It is the work of evil. You will spread it to the land and you will be damned!”
“Now don’t be harsh on the child, Vil.” Lillath called her husband Vil to keep words directed at father and son separate. “Go ahead, Vilmos, eat, you look beyond starved.” The objection finally said, the woman returned to her meal.
Vilmos started to smile, a flicker of hope that was cut short.
“I’m not being harsh. Do you want them to come? Do you want them to take him away?”
Vilmos gritted his teeth; here came the lesson.
“Salamander dweller amidst flames; Sylph light and dainty as air; Elf of forest and water; Gnome under mountain and stone; inhabitants of the four elements no more. All because Queen of Elves took pity on Gnome and so wed King of Gnomes under Solstice Mountain. Unknowingly she brought with her the gift of Elf magic. Elf magic in the hands of Gnome—pure evil.
“Sylph, Salamander, Elf and Gnome, no more. Only the four offspring of King Gnome and Queen Elf survived. Naiad dweller of river and spring. Nereid dweller of sea. Oread dweller under mountain. Elf dweller of forest. In the end, even though they fought the evil of this new magic and directed it toward good ends, all perished save willful Elf who was in the end washed into the sea with her people. This is the lore of the Four Peoples. Go now. Contemplate this lesson and the error of your ways.”
Cheerless eyes of a worried mother silently followed Vilmos. He could feel her eyes upon his back. He retreated to the sanctuary of his room where he began a vigilant watch of the ceiling. He supposed that made it look like he was contemplating the error of his ways, but in truth he hated his studies.
A long time passed before his mother entered the room, carrying with her a large tome, the Great Book, and a plate full with breakfast foods: still-warm black bread, honey cakes, country jams, dark yellow cheeses and three varieties of smoked sausages. She sat the plate down and began to read from the Great Book.
Vilmos only half listened.
“After He was cast from our world, those among us, the wise, foretold that someday He would return. If we allow Him to escape the darkness through our use of magic, He will survive the endless journey of darkness… Magic draws upon the threads of the whole of the world. Eventually the threads will unravel. A rift will be created. When He has finally regained his powers, He will use this rift…”
Such teachings had been lectured many times before and though they were not lost on him, Vilmos didn’t give them much thought. The Dark Lord had perished a millennia ago. How could he return by the simple use of magic? Besides, there seemed a never-ending list of lessons pertaining to the use of magic. It was true that tales of the Dark Lord and Queen Elf were the two that he heard constantly, but he w
as tired of them all.
“I try hard not to use it, mother, but I slip on occasion.”
“The use of the magic is expressly forbidden. Never use it. Do you understand me? Never.”
Vilmos appealed to her with his innocent eyes. “I know but the power just comes to me. It is growing stronger, mother.”
A look of shock spread across Lillath’s features. She gasped. “You must not use it. Vilmos, promise me.”
“I can do nothing to stop it.”
Lillath, now appearing older than her years, swept Vilmos up in her arms. She held him for a time in a motherly embrace, and then let him go. She knelt beside him and placed both hands on his cheeks.
“After He was cast from our world those among us, the wise, foretold that someday He would return, but only if we continued to use magic. Magic is evil, Vilmos. This is why you must never use it. Promise me.” Her voice had never sounded grimmer.
“I will try, mother.”
Overtures of desperation, also a hint of vast knowledge, touched her words now. “Even I could not stop what must be done if you don’t do as I ask. Soon, mind you. Do you understand?”
“You wouldn’t let them take me away, would you, mother?”
“No, I would never allow the priests to take you away, Vilmos. I promise.” Lillath was crying now and on those words she returned to her kitchen.
In his heart Vilmos believed her. She wouldn’t let them take him away, yet if they came he knew she would have no choice. They would take him away. He would never see the Kingdom of Sever again.
Vivid images from the nightmare returned to his mind and with them came clouded, troubled thoughts. He did not want to be taken away from his home. He did not want to go away. He did not want to leave his mother. He loved Lillath desperately. She was all he had.
Vilmos closed his eyes then escaped to the place he went when troubled. A deep, majestic valley spread before him. Its view was breathtaking as he stared down into its depths, imagining himself a great, giant eagle lazily circling high above the valley floor. This was his special place, only his, he thought. He was the great winged beast, master of all it surveyed, who could swoop, soar and dive to the valley floor or glide up on a light puff of air.
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