by Stephen Wolf
Dariak interrupted him. “Your tale about King Kallisor and Lady Hathreneir.”
Randler smiled, pleased that Dariak had listened so well to that tale. “Yes, indeed. The great lady was a mage and had vast magical power, but the king was a warrior, and they could not coexist.”
“That does not mean we must ever be persecuted,” Quereth interjected angrily.
“I can’t convince you,” Randler started, “because I don’t even know if it’s the answer either. But if magic dissipated, we might be able to resolve our problems without fear of mystical forces.”
“Psh!” the female mage, Lica, sputtered. “Nonsense! Our problems would resolve if people realized that magic isn’t as bad as they think it is. If they knew more, they would understand that the worst among us is no more fearsome than the worst among the tyrants. A charismatic leader is a much bigger threat than a mage who can summon a giant.”
“Besides,” Kitalla threw in, “no one has any trouble turning to the healers.” This led to quite a bit of agreement from the mages.
Gabrion couldn’t take the arguing anymore. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Whether we assemble the jades for their power or bring them together so we can lock them away, we’re still gathering the jades to keep them from others who could abuse them. I can’t say anything about what the best option is, as much as I distrust magic. But yes, it’s been useful too. Then we have our king, who threw even me into prison without a spell at hand, completely irrationally, while he employs others who train in magic for his use in other regards.” He paused for a moment, realizing he was going in wide circles. “No, I think we all have a single goal here but different ways of getting there.”
“Oh?” Quereth asked skeptically.
“Yes. Don’t we all want the wars to end? Hasn’t there been enough fighting? Haven’t enough people been lost?” Gabrion choked on the last word. “I can’t say what the best solution is, but I think that these jades are coming together anyway. So let’s bring them together, and if the circumstances change, then we will alter our course.”
“Who determines that?” Randler wondered. “Whose call is it whether to use the jades or not?”
“Let Gabrion decide,” Kitalla suggested, laughing. “After all, his quest is for Mira. As for the jades, he isn’t firmly set in either direction. He’s a neutral party; who better to decide?”
It wasn’t a popular notion, and the room erupted in angry shouts. In the end, only Dariak was able to restore order. He stood up and removed the jades from his pockets, placing them on the table before him. He set the earth, water, and lightning shards out in the open, turning to his companions expectantly. Kitalla added her metal jade, Gabrion set his glass jade, and Randler placed his shadow jade. The pieces were already resonating from their proximity, but freely set upon the table, they shook and twisted about, aligning together determinedly.
“They point to the west!” Gabrion announced in shock.
“Not to Mira.” Dariak hated breaking it to him. “Though they do point in her general direction, they actually point to their nearest brother.”
Randler released a deep sigh. “My mother,” he said. “She has a shard.”
Gabrion made a face. “Will Mira ever be our destination?”
“Yes,” Dariak answered. “We will head west now. This next shard is just a detour. We are gaining our strength and we will reach her.”
Kitalla tipped her head toward Gabrion and responded to the mage. “We’d better or this guy is going to leave us in the dust and save her himself. And after I promised to help him too.”
“We can’t delay much more,” Gabrion added. “There’s no telling what condition she’s in.”
Dariak looked at the group and nodded. “Okay. As for the jades, keep your piece, Randler. And you, Kitalla and Gabrion, keep your shards. Even if we travel together, they aren’t quite united. You saw that yourself in the tower, Randler. I needed possession of your jade to truly activate it, and you can’t argue that I wouldn’t have used its power if I could have.”
“No, not under those circumstances,” the minstrel admitted grudgingly. “Then we’ll follow the warrior’s advice. Take the rest, and see what happens.” His voice was sad and resigned.
“So you intend to collect the shards?” Quereth ventured after glancing around at the companions.
“Yes,” Dariak answered coldly. “Even Randler knows that with the three pieces I have, I could locate all the others and use their powers to eventually claim the rest. Even if they all want to argue, they can’t.”
Gabrion grimaced deeply at this declaration and stared at the mage, fighting an innate anger. Yet as he watched, he saw that Dariak was turning his gaze determinedly around the room, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. Gabrion realized that the mage was simply bringing an end to the debate, allowing no one to argue the point any further, which would only serve to create even deeper rifts within the group. Gabrion wondered if he would have the same inner strength under the circumstances. Kitalla realized this too and sank back in her chair.
Quereth ignored the nonbelievers and focused on Dariak. “We are in your service, Master Dariak. We will go forth and assemble the underground mages, and we will join your fight.”
“You will join in my victory,” Dariak responded officiously, accepting the offer. “Once we’ve claimed the next shard, we will head west to break into the land of Hathreneir in order to assemble the other jades. We could use your assistance in that endeavor.”
“You will have it,” Quereth agreed. “And when, once again, you’ve assembled the shards into the whole, we will be at your side then too.”
With the agreements made, the companions sought a deep and silent respite, but the city’s echoes of grief and anger weighed upon them. The night passed fitfully and the morning was met with further unrest.
Mobs had formed in the streets and the hunt began to find those responsible for bringing down the tower. The disheveled citizens roared with outrage and crashed into one home, then the next, seeking the mages who had brought doom upon them.
The companions gathered themselves as the rioting drew near. The door crashed open, enraged faces filling the entrance. “That’s them!” one man cried. “They’re on the posters!”
Another shouted, “Look! More mages in there!”
“Die, heathens!” the mob screamed, pushing into the small house.
Quereth, Lica, and Frast reacted quickly, casting out webs of paralysis and turning to the others. “Flee this place before your quests end here.”
“What about—” Dariak started.
“We’ll be fine. We can hold off this lot. Flee, Master Dariak!”
Kitalla grabbed Dariak’s shoulder. “Get me out of here before I murder them all, mage.” Her eyes raced wildly left and right and Dariak knew she was struggling to control herself.
“This way,” Randler called from the rear exit.
“You’re coming?” Gabrion asked as he hurried past.
The bard nodded. “It isn’t safe for me here anymore either.”
Dariak hesitated a moment longer until Frast turned his head and assured him they could handle these people. Clutching the jades in his pouch, Dariak followed his companions into the troubled streets of Pindington and the next leg of his journey in Kallisor.
Epilogue
The Saga Adjourned
Meriad closed the large tome and pushed it aside. Her grandson sat anxiously in his bed, clutching the blankets firmly.
“Are you all right?” She chuckled softly.
“I can’t believe he died…and came back!” the boy gasped.
“Indeed. He wields some great power, don’t you think?”
“It’s amazing he didn’t end up taking over the whole world!” His eyes were wide with awe.
Meriad chortled. “Perhaps he did and you don’
t know it.”
He paused to think about it for a moment. “Did he?”
Now she laughed openly. “We will see, as the tale unfolds, what happens to Dariak and his friends.”
“I’m wide-awake, Gran-mama. Tell me more. Please!” His pleading eyes tugged at her heart desperately, but there was no more to be said for now.
“You understand that reading this tale takes a lot out of me. It is time for me to return home to tend to some things there, but you know I will be back to continue.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said in his sulkiest tone. “But Gran-mama, what happens to Pindington now? It’s all destroyed and lots of people died, didn’t they?”
“Indeed,” she answered gravely. “Unfortunately, with all of Dariak’s skill, even he couldn’t bring the dead back to life.”
“But he came back to life!” he protested.
“That was very different and under specific circumstances, mind you. We have all lost people in our lives, love, but we must remember to keep them alive in our hearts.”
His head sank low, and he nodded solemnly. “I know.”
“So what do you think of their decision to find the other jades?” she asked.
He perked up as he thought about it. “I think it’s a great idea. Then Dariak can do all sorts of things.”
“You’re a fan of Dariak, I see.”
“I—well, he’s from Hathreneir, like me.”
Meriad cleared her throat in an annoyed fashion. “Haven’t I told you countless times that we must not discriminate against people just because they were born elsewhere?”
“I know.”
“That’s your phrase of the evening, I see.”
“I suppose,” he said with a grin.
“Some people would say your ideas are a little funny.”
“Why?” he asked indignantly.
“Well, some people would discriminate more against Dariak because he likes other men. And they would applaud Gabrion for pouring his life and heart into the love of a woman. That doesn’t bother you?”
“Sh—should it?”
Meriad smiled warmly. “No, dear, it certainly shouldn’t. There is nothing wrong with Dariak’s interest in Randler, but also there is nothing wrong with those born in Kallisor. I need you to remember to judge people on their actions, not ‘what’ they are.”
“I’ll try.”
Meriad bit her lip. She believed he would really try, but it would be so much easier if she could take him with her and show him another lifestyle, where the character of men and women meant so much more than their birthplace. Still, she did her best the only way she could.
“Gran-mama?”
“Yes, dear?
“Would it be weird…if I wanted to be more like Kitalla?”
Meriad laughed. “Tell me which attributes you would emulate first, and then I’ll decide.”
His face scrunched in confusion. “Which attri—? Emul—? Huh?”
“What part of her do you like?” Meriad explained tenderly.
“Oh! Well, she’s so fast. And determined. She really just does whatever she has to do to survive. Every time you tell me what’s happening to her, I think I could never survive it myself. But then she survives it. I want to be like that.”
Meriad reached out and hugged him. “That’s inner strength and believing in yourself. And that’s totally within your grasp.”
All of a sudden, the young boy yawned, and his eyes dripped tears in the process. “Gran-mama?”
“Yes, dear?”
“I can’t wait to find out what happens next. Please come back safely.”
With a soothing hum, she leaned close and kissed his forehead. “I will, dear. Now sleep, and I will see you in a few weeks.”
About the Author
Stephen J. Wolf earned his PhD in science education in 2006 and has worked as a middle-school science teacher for the past fourteen years. His passion for chemistry and physics was inspired by watching Mr. Wizard’s World as a child and learning that many of life’s biggest and most fascinating mysteries could be explained through science.
When he isn’t helping his students discover logic and wonder in the classroom, Wolf enjoys spending time with his partner, Kevin, and watching Doctor Who with their two cats, Merlin and Monty. Wolf currently resides in New York, and you can visit him online at StephenJWolf.com.
Acknowledgments
No task of this magnitude is ever completed alone. Many people were instrumental throughout this process, and it is due to their support and dedication that this book came to fruition.
I would like to thank the CreateSpace team for their efforts in all phases of this project. From design consultations to thoroughly editing my work, you helped to keep this process moving along while keeping me updated at every milestone.
To my editors, thank you for the careful eye applied to all the words we see. You helped me to fine-tune this tale and to make it flow more smoothly.
To Fyodor Ananiev, my cover artist, I could not have dreamed of finding a better partner to work with in designing the visual representation of my novel. Your pieces drew me in, and I knew we could work together to create something wonderful. You showed true dedication and professionalism every step of the way, even when I tossed out crazy ideas for you to consider. You gave visual life to my written words, and your keen talent and open communication are truly impressive. (Look for Fyodor online at tedmxartist.wordpress.com or ted-mx.deviantart.com.)
To Leanne Gelish, cherished friend and crafty photographer, I offer my thanks for the time you spent with me, making sure I looked my best. You have an eye for detail and a flair for brilliance. Your photography reflects the essence of your soul, and there we all can see your beauty. (You can find Leanne online at www.waiticant.com.)
To Jared Reed, who helped me through this exercise in more ways than one, your music is an inspiration, and talking about characters and story as they developed truly helped bring them all to life. You craft beautiful melodies, and always will I see worlds when I hear your music. (You can find Jared online, along with some of the music that inspired this tale, at soundcloud.com/tetrasound.)
To my family and friends, your love and support through the years have made me who I am today. My mom and my sister Kim, who were my first readers way back when I was writing tales at fifteen; my dad, my brother, John, and my sister, Lisa, who were always there to listen to the next wild adventure I was concocting; Joseph, for being first to read all four books all the way through; Hayden, for the detailed and constructive critique of book one; and to everyone else who has been with me along the way, I thank you. (See Hayden’s science and fitness blog at www.scienceforfitness.com.)
And lastly, I’d like to thank Kevin, for your support through this whole process and for coordinating the greatest fortieth birthday gift a guy could ever ask for: a chance to pursue my dream. (Find Kevin’s iOS apps at HuntingtonPhoenix.com.)