by Mark Tyson
“It’s a hearthstone,” a voice said behind him. “It is a magic stone for warmth and comfort.” Trendan spun around in one fluid motion, producing his bow and nocking an arrow with blinding speed. At the point of his arrow stood a man of middle age, with greying hair and the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. He was dressed in a tabard, with a flowering rose embroidered on it, and trousers.
He held up his arms. “Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you. I noticed the stone as well, and I came to investigate.”
“Who are you?” Trendan asked. “You bear the markings of Trigothia.”
“Yes, the Trigothian kingdom of Arasyth,” the man replied.
“Arasyth, you mean Sythia? No one has called it Arasyth in ages.”
The man’s eyes narrowed as if in anger. “It will always be Arasyth to me, young man.” Trendan noticed men approaching in the doorway.
“I asked who you are, sir,” Trendan repeated.
“Forgive me, allow me to introduce myself. I am called Brenlan Sythril, and these are my men, the Knights of the Rose.”
Chapter 17: One Idea Too Far
Soaring through the air, and buffeted only with magical essence, the ship aptly named The Shooting Star lurched forward, rocked back and forth, dipped in a rapid dive, and leveled out again, a haggard Ianthill at her helm. Just to the left of Ianthill, Gondrial clung dearly to the side rail of the bridge, his eyes wide with fright. Kyrie was dancing with joy behind Ianthill and chortled with glee every time the ship dipped and dived. Gondrial had no idea where the girls were, but under the freezing conditions on deck, they must have gone into the ship. Wherever they were, he was sure they were terrified.
“Fawlsbane’s teeth, it’s cold!” Gondrial managed to say between shivers.
“Cast a warming enchantment,” Ianthill told him. “And do you have to cling to that railing like that? You are making me nervous.”
“Aye, I do!” He gripped the railing tighter. “How long ago did you say you used to do this? Flying, I mean.”
“Longer than I want to admit.” Ianthill sharply turned the wheel, and the ship lurched and dove again. Kyrie laughed with delight.
“What in your mother’s kitchen . . .” Gondrial swore as the ship again dived and finally leveled out.
“Stop your swearing; that makes me nervous too.”
“I’ll stop swearing when I am firmly on ground. With all this jolting about, I think you are going to split my knife wound open. And why do we have to travel so fast?”
“I have not seen Sanmir since we left, and he is controlling the wind in the sails. You could go find him.” Ianthill clenched his teeth. “And Kyrie healed your knife wound perfectly. I don’t want to put up with your infernal attitude any longer.”
“I am not leaving this rail for man nor beast! You say you have done this sort of thing before?”
“Aye, it’s been quite a while. I just told you!”
“I can certainly tell,” Gondrial said, clinging to the rail even tighter as the ship dipped again.
“That’s enough! I’m setting her down in the water below. It’s been too long. I can’t concentrate well enough to keep us aloft.” He glared at Gondrial.
“What are you glaring at me for? Do you expect me to protest?”
Ianthill let the ship descend through the clouds. “Well, that’s unexpected.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Gondrial pulled himself up to look over the side. All he could see was dry land. “Where is the Strait of Adracoria? Where is the water?”
Ianthill shrugged his shoulders. “We must have made a turn toward the north. You were the one who was supposed to be navigating.”
Alarmed, Gondrial pushed the dancing, gleeful Kyrie aside and went to the aft railing. There was only dry land behind them as far as he could see. He observed the same on all sides of the ship. He lurched forward while the ship dipped and grabbed ahold of the stationary compass. The needle pointed north. “We should be able to reach water to the west. If nothing else, we can set down on the Isheva River. Turn the ship west.”
Ianthill took a deep breath. “You better go find Sanmir or Shey. I can feel my grasp on the essence slipping.”
“What do you need? I can draw more essence if you need me to.”
“Fool, do as I say. I need your essence and then some. Go find them!”
Gondrial maneuvered around Kyrie and stumbled down the wooden stairs to the deck.
“It’s too late! Get back up here and help me,” Ianthill cried out.
Gondrial ran back up the stairs, drawing in essence as he ran. He released it to Ianthill, who managed to keep the ship aloft for a few more moments before it dropped rapidly, heading for the ground. Sanmir appeared from below deck and made his way to the bridge. Seeing Gondrial and Ianthill in distress, he helped with drawing essence. Sanmir calmed the wind as Gondrial and Ianthill set the ship on a steady course high enough above ground to be out of danger.
“Thank the gods you decided to come check on us,” Ianthill said to Sanmir.
“I thought we had dipped below the clouds. I supposed I might see what you two were up to.”
Once the ship stopped lurching, Kyrie no longer found it amusing to dance around and enjoy the ride. He jumped up onto the railing of the bridge and peered over the side of the ship. Gondrial noticed him up on the rail.
“Get down from the railing, Kyrie, you are going to fall.”
Kyrie scoffed at him. “Not likely.”
“Get down anyway,” Gondrial said, moving to intervene and knock him off the rail if necessary.
“Wait, where is it?” Kyrie jumped down and ran to the aft of the ship. “It’s gone!”
Ianthill became interested now. “What is gone?”
Kyrie went back to the railing and peered as far as he could see to the east. “The Plain of Storms. We are over the western edge of the plains of Ishrak. There should be a raging storm from here all the way east to the Jagged Mountains. It’s gone!”
Ianthill squinted. “Take the wheel, Sanmir.” Sanmir nodded and took the helm. Ianthill joined Gondrial and Kyrie looking east. Dark clouds remained in the sky as far as they see, but no lightning, no twisters. “What happened to the wild magic?” he said, almost in a whisper. “Gondrial, what was the name of that village the afflicted were always banished to?”
“I don’t remember—Sishack, Misshack, or something. Most of the time, if the Enforcers caught them, they were just hanged.”
“It was Ishva,” Sanmir corrected.
“Aye, it was Ishva,” Ianthill confirmed. “And it should be close by. Morgoran will have to wait. I will send him a message on the east wind. This could be serious. Sanmir, can you steer us toward the village?”
“Aye, I think I can. And I can find the east wind for your message, as well.”
“Where are we going to put this ship when we get there?” Gondrial asked.
“Leave that to me,” Lady Shey said as she stepped up the stairs to the bridge. “I think I can enchant something this size to stay aloft, as long as it isn’t moving too much.”
Gondrial was actually pleased to see her. “Where have you been?”
Lady Shey gave him a sideways glance. “Trying to keep from bouncing around the ship with you two in charge of the navigation. I noticed when Sanmir is at the helm, the sailing is much smoother.” She gave Sanmir a secret wink. Gondrial tried to retort, but Shey deftly interceded. “Why did we slow down?” She looked out over the plain. “I see you managed to completely miss the ocean.”
“That should be the Plain of Storms out there. Something has happened to the afflicted at Ishva,” Kyrie explained.
Gondrial scratched his head. “I thought your enchantments were always temporary. How long would we have off the ship before it crashed to the ground?”
“I have been practicing. Sanmir is a very good teacher.”
“Oh, so that’s what you have been up to. Why doesn’t Sanmir enchant the ship?
”
“I am afraid I can only enchant metal and glass. The method is the same, but the materials are based on the individual. It is a rare gift to enchant wood,” Sanmir answered.
“Anyhow, Ianthill, what do you expect to find?” Shey changed the subject.
“I honestly don’t know. The last of the mindwielders that knew what they were doing are long dead.”
Sanmir cleared his throat. “Not true. The mentalists of Darovan still live. I grew up with a talented mentalist named Raheed. He taught me about the mentalists and even helped me to add knowledge to my apothecary practice.”
Ianthill feigned a smile. “Unless Raheed is nearby to help us, Sanmir, your limited knowledge may not be enough.”
Lady Shey put her hands on her hips. “That was a rude comment.”
“It’s quite all right, my lady,” Sanmir assured her.
“Forgive me if I sounded harsh, my old friend, I hope your knowledge of the mentalists comes in handy.”
Sanmir nodded and continued to steer the ship. “Ianthill, I believe that is Ishva dead ahead. I recognize the outline of the mountain range in the background.”
Ianthill turned to look. He could see the village far in the distance. “How long?”
“Only a few moments. Lady Shey should begin her preparations,” Sanmir said.
Gondrial rubbed his hands together nervously. “I had better go below and let Enowene know what we are doing.” He disappeared down the steps to the deck.
Morgoran paced back and forth across the wooden floor of Erinthill’s apartment, puffing his pipe and swearing under his breath. Finally he stopped and whirled around to face Shadesilver. “How is that possible? How can a Lora Daine be rendered useless?”
“I have never heard of it happening before, yet my stone will not work. Dorenn must have found a way to neutralize it,” Shadesilver said.
“But how is that possible? Even with what happened to him in his trial, I have never heard of any wielder that could affect dragon magic in such a way.” Morgan took a few more puffs on his pipe. “What about the Migarath Portal, Erinthill? Does it still connect to anywhere?”
“Aye, it’s stuck on By’temog, Ishrak, from when the city was reduced to ruins. No one has ever been able to fix it to any other location,” Erinthill answered. “Migarath himself tried to fix it during the War of the Oracle so that wielders could get to the battlefields of Symboria from here, but even he failed.”
Morgoran scoffed. “By’temog! What a useless location.”
“It may not be. We don’t have any idea where Dorenn went,” Vesperin pointed out.
Morgoran let out another puff of pipe smoke. “Well, I’m sure he didn’t pop over to a cursed, undead-infested, ruined city of a dead kingdom!”
Vesperin sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Probably not,” he conceded.
“And you are sure there is no way to trace where a Lora Daine takes a person?” Morgoran asked Shadesilver.
“I am sure some of my kind could do something like that, but I cannot and Melias cannot, so no, there is no way. Of course, I could fly back to Draegodor and talk to the king.”
“That would take months. Draegodor is too far,” Morgoran stated. “We need another solution.”
Vesperin cleared his throat. “Um, Morgoran, By’temog is about halfway to Draegodor from here. Shadesilver could use the portal and fly the rest of the way.”
“That’s preposterous; it’s entirely too dangerous. That city is infested. I am not sure even a dragon could get out safely.”
Shadesilver stood up from her chair. “It is the best plan we have. Life is dangerous and full of risks, but I am a dragon, sir. I can take to the skies. I would like to see the undead catch me in flight!”
Morgoran shook his head. “Are you familiar with the curse of Ishrak?” Morgoran asked her. “First, By’temog is extremely close to Kragodor, home of the exiled dragons, who would kill you on sight. Secondly, when the city was cursed, the dragons still fought side by side with man, which means it is entirely possible there are undead drakes there as well. Those undead drakes can also fly, and I am sure they could catch you in flight seeing that they are cursed.”
“I’ll go with her,” Vesperin offered. “I have a special relationship with the cursed and undead.”
Morgoran stood, stunned for a moment, and then he started coughing up his suppressed pipe smoke. Erinthill went to him and patted him on the back to help clear the smoke from his lungs. “I have not forgotten the tale Ianthill told me of you and Signal Hill, but I thought that had been a unique situation.”
“I am fairly confident I could handle whatever we came in contact with.”
“I am going as well,” Tatrice announced. “I belong with Shadesilver.”
“I, too, will go,” Bren said. “I believe that By’temog would be close enough for me to call out to Amadalea. She might be flying out on patrol, which would put her even closer.”
Morgoran glanced at Melias. “Looks like we’re all going. If the dragons can trace where Dorenn went, I should be there to hear it myself and make preparations.”
“It will not be easy,” Melias cautioned. “I am not certain any of you can fathom how quickly a place like By’temog can turn deadly.”
There was a moment of silence before Morgoran’s intentionally soft tone finally broke it. “What preparations do we need?”
Bren secured his dragon fang and dragon claw to his side. “We just need to have all our armor secured and our weapons to the ready when we arrive.”
Tatrice grumbled. “Mistress Erinthill, the men seem to forget they have to eat until they are hungry. Could I be so bold as to ask to stock some basic provisions from your kitchen pantry?”
Erinthill clasped her hands together. “Certainly. If you will follow me, I think we can come up with something. We may have to cook. I hope you all are not in too big a hurry.”
“Actually, we are,” Morgoran answered.
“Thank you, Erinthill,” Tatrice said as the two women left for the kitchen and pantry. Tatrice stopped just short of the kitchen door. “Morgoran, it is nightfall. I am sure we can be ready to leave by early morning.” She pushed open the kitchen door and disappeared behind it.
Morgoran disregarded the sarcasm. “While the women are securing the provisions, it might be a good idea if we inspect the Migarath Portal. It might not even work, for all I know. I don’t think anyone has been down there in over a hundred seasons. In fact, Migarath might have been the last one down there when he tried to repair it during the War of the Oracle.”
“Surely it hasn’t been that long ago,” Vesperin said.
“Of course not,” Morgoran retorted. “I am exaggerating a tad.”
Vesperin nodded. “It is a good idea to have a look.”
Morgoran beamed at Vesperin. “Nothing seems to ever bother you, cleric.”
“Oh, believe me, plenty bothers me. It’s just that I will never let you or anyone else know what it is. That way, I’m not bothered near as much or as often.”
“Was that a hint of sarcasm?” Morgoran asked.
Vesperin said nothing.
Provisions in hand and all accounted for, Morgoran led the small band of travelers to the Migarath Portal chamber. Tatrice and Erinthill had managed to prepare the provisions before Morgoran could remember where the portal chamber was located. Even though the night had almost passed, Morgoran still insisted that they travel as soon as possible. Upon entering the chamber, Morgoran discovered he was correct in assuming that the chamber had not been visited in some time. Thick dust covered the floor and clung to every flat surface of the circular portal mechanism. He made the mistake of blowing the dust from the portal, and it cascaded into the air in a dirty cloud.
“I got it,” Sanmir said. He waved his hand. The dust from the air, the floor, and the portal flowed into a small pile in the corner of the chamber.
“Your command of the elements is always impressive, my friend,” Morgoran stat
ed. “I wish I had known you as a boy at chore time.”
“I am afraid I would not have been much help to you, Morgoran, as I was a poor student in the eyes of my people. I was nearly an adult before I could manipulate the elements half as well as a child.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” Morgoran replied. “Now, let me see if I can get this portal open.” A quick burst of essence and the portal sprang to life. Morgoran tried to play around with the portal destination, but it was indeed stuck. He turned to address the others. “I’m not sure this portal goes to By’temog. I have not been to Ishrak in so long, I would not be able to recognize it by the images on edge of this portal. This might have been one idea too far. It’s not too late to bow out.” No one indicated that they wished to turn back. “All right, I will step through first. If anything adverse happens, the portal will shut down. It only stays open if it is connected to another portal on the other side.” He took a deep breath. “As I remember, traveling by these portals is somewhat unpleasant. This is not a Lora Daine. Just be aware.” He took another deep breath and stepped through the opening. It felt like he was punched hard in the stomach, and he hunched over as he forced himself to stumble down the tunnel to the opening on the other end. The swirling motion and the sensation that the tunnel was getting longer rather than shorter made him feel like retching, but he held it in.
Morgoran emerged from the portal feeling like he was wet, but upon inspecting his robes, he found he was completely dry. One by one each of the members of the party stepped out of the tunnel to different side effects. Melias was the only one Morgoran thought might have stomach issues, but he also soon recovered.
When the portal closed, the chamber became pitch dark. Morgoran heard something stirring in the corner opposite. At first he thought it was one of his party, but then he realized they were all behind him. “Sanmir, give us some light.”