by G. B. WREN
“Has Gilvius removed his ban on magic?”
“No. He is so very weak. We believe he too has been gripped by an evil that has drained him.”
Topen strolled over to the table. He eased into a chair and placed the silvering book on the hard surface before him. Loran moved to the opposite side and assessed Topen’s contemplative stare. She seated herself in front of him.
“Is there any assistance you can offer?” asked Loran.
“If an evil has taken hold in this place, I need to first discover its nature, and if it is familiar,” said Topen. “Have you noticed any strange markings on Gervest?” Topen brought his fingers up to touch the bend of his arm. “Here, or the on the back of his shoulder,” he continued.
“I have seen nothing, but that is better asked of Kelamar. Gervest has changed into armor while in his presence, and may have exposed a mark.”
Topen lifted the silvering book from the table and the letters transformed with his touch.
“How long have you been using this book?”
“Months, I’m afraid only to disappointment.”
“It would have been extraordinary had you been able to accomplish a silvering with this book alone. Even for the youngest, who begin their training at sixteen, guidance is required,” said Topen. “You have expected too much of yourself in this task.”
“Would you not have done the same to save your family?”
Loran had no way of knowing that Topen had already failed once in a similar quest, and he pledged no such anguish would repeat itself with an Avileen descendent in this land.
“Indeed, I would, Loran Avileen.”
Topen slid the silvering book near Loran’s touch. Her fingers draped around it in a protective grip.
“I’m not sure you can accomplish the silvering in the conventional manner, but for now, I encourage you to continue to try. I will give you what guidance I can,” said Topen. “Is Rolam or Gervest aware of their magical legacy?”
“No. I intend to make sure Rolam is made aware tonight, when we gather here.”
“I will remain hidden from all eyes for now, but I must leave soon to collect items we will need if we are to battle evil.”
“When will you return?”
“The urgency here will require careful planning so that I remain absent for the shortest time possible, However, Daramose and I may not enter the gates of this castle until a week has passed.”
“You intend to announce your arrival?”
“For darkness to expose itself to the light, it must have a reason,” said Topen. “I will feed it uncertainty, to flush it from where it dwells.”
Loran rose and paced away from the table.
“And what of my unanswered question?” asked Loran. “Why haven’t you aged?”
“The face I present to you has aged as much as yours, but it has not aged at the same rate.”
Confused, Loran yearned for an explanation.
“Time, as you know it, does not flow at the same pace, in all lands.”
“You know time differently?”
Topen rose and met Loran where she stood. He reached for her hand, which she gave without hesitation, and led her to her balcony—where they bathed in the same morning light that illuminated their view of nearby Avileen forest. Topen stared across the vista and pointed toward the far-off town of Avilbrook.
“Imagine if you were to stand at the edge of Avilbrook, near the bank of the great river, and viewed a town on the other side, on the distant bank. However, to your surprise, all the people and animals that you could see were still—frozen, without any movement. As you cross this river and reach the middle, suddenly the town you are approaching becomes alive with motion: horses, people, all seem as you would expect. Now, when you look back to where you started, all those you left are moving faster than the swiftest horse, they are chaotic in their pace. If you were to return to Avilbrook, all motion would be the same as you left it.”
Topen leaned in closer, and Loran waited—her eyes locked to his—for his next words.
“The land that appeared frozen is mine, and the land with the chaotic pace, is yours. Even though time flows differently, we perceive it the same when in either land. The difference is, while I age a single day when in my land, six months will pass in yours.”
Loran felt a sickening in her stomach as she struggled to accept what Topen had told her.
“How is this possible? I have traveled beyond the eight provinces of the Avileen Empire and have witnessed nothing as you describe.”
“There are lands even further away—lands we can only reach by magic.”
“You are saying that you age at a quicker pace when you are here, than if you stayed in your own land.”
“While you have grown into the remarkable woman you are today, just twenty-four days have passed in my land since my last visit—on your sixteenth birthday.”
Loran hurried back into her chamber.
“This is not possible, this means you and I—” Loran resisted completing her thought. “Does my mother know of this?
“When Leanna was younger, I spent many more years in this land—during the great castle war. Gilvius referred to this time as a sacrifice, giving my years to assist the Avileens in this land,” said Topen. “But if not for your great-great-grandfather, I would not have had those years to give. And your great-grandfather, Rondros Avileen, was a friend beyond all others. We both were twenty-two when we traveled here. Rondros decided to settle in this land, to bring stability to a deserving people beaten down by savagery.”
“But you didn’t remain.”
“I stayed for years to help him build the Avileen Empire, but this land was Rondros’s quest. Before I departed, I pledged to him that I would return for as long as his bloodline needed me.”
“The more you speak, the greater my hunger is for the knowledge you hold.”
“Perhaps this afternoon I can assist you with the silvering ritual, to offer some guidance.”
“I have never attempted the silvering with anyone present,” said Loran, uneasy in the thought of an audience.
“When others do not distract your attempt, you will have mastered a requirement for success,” assured Topen.
Chapter Nine
THE SILVERING - PART I
EVEN LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH LORAN’S chamber as the mid-afternoon sun arched over the castle. Loran’s ornate mirror reflected her close image, with Topen’s just behind her and to her side.
“Does the mirror frustrate you?” asked Topen.
“I feel it is . . . resisting me.”
“The barrier you are finding so difficult to pass through has been created by you.”
“I’m stopping myself from the silvering,” scoffed Loran.
“In a manner, it is your pragmatic side that will not release your mind. It has placed a wall between you and the silvering,” said Topen. “The stronger the will, the more difficult it is to trust.”
“Who am I supposed to trust?”
“Yourself,” Topen replied, “You must trust enough to lower all barriers—to allow vulnerability.”
Loran spurned her image in the mirror and slumped into her favorite chair, the one that had always comforted her after a failed silvering. Topen stepped before her and she lifted her head to meet his eyes.
“Loran, I can see that you are trapped in a ritual, one that is tied to disappointment.”
“How do I break this cycle of failure?”
“Neither your mind nor the mirror has failed you. They are responding exactly as they should under your control.”
Topen walked to the mirror and placed his hand solidly against the smooth glass. His eyes fixed on Loran through the mirror’s reflection.
“Do you remember the first words you spoke when I told you that the stone you possess is magical?”
Loran searched her memory, but could not recall. With a shake of her head, she indicated that she did not.
“You told me, quite determin
edly, that magic isn’t real.”
“Yes, but I now know it is.”
“You only accepted it with verification by your own hand, but before the proof you took a chance, and believed in the possibility.”
“Are you saying I must be shown proof of the silvering before I can accomplish it?”
“Let’s find out.”
Topen pushed his hand into the mirror. At the surface of the mirror—where his wrist remained visible, but his hand was not—a ripple emanated outward. He took one last glance at Loran and stepped into the mirror. The entire surface rippled slowly for a few moments before it returned to firm glass.
Loran jumped from her chair and stared intently at the mirror’s surface. Moments later, Topen emerged—amid the ripples across the surface of the glass that preceded him. Loran’s eyes opened wide at his return, but soon fell to despair.
“I can see there is a passage into the mirror, but I don’t feel any closer to crossing it—as you just did.”
“You should rest for the day and allow yourself some time to take in this experience.”
“With Gervest’s ascension barely a month away, I sense the faster pace of my time pulling on me.”
* * *
Michael Kileson and his father, Samuel, marched through the main hall towards the receiving room. With confidence in his every step, Samuel paid no attention to the few who shared the hall with him, and they, in kind, were grateful for the lack of his notice. When the guards cleared the pair for entrance into the receiving room, they saw Gervest, sitting pompously in the sovereign’s chair at the far end of the room.
The married couple standing before Gervest had arrived to defend a hunt that occurred in Avileen forest. The man in his thirties, with concern in his eyes, looked to his wife—who would soon birth the child she carried. He tried to reason with Gervest.
“Forgive me, young lord, but the sovereign himself had assured that Avileen forest would be available to my family during the seasons of the hunt. We would dare not hunt in the forest without his blessing. If you would consult with him, he would tell you my words are true.”
Gervest looked upon the man before him with the same compassion he would extend to a leech—indeed; a parasite is what he considered him.
“Far too many in this land have taken advantage of the sovereign’s generosity. Don’t you think I have better use of my time that to be called to judge your poaching?”
“But, lord—”
“Enough of this! If I were sovereign today, for such an incursion I would strip you of your holdings. Consider yourself fortunate to leave with a warning and the forfeiture of the game you have poached.”
“My family needs the foo—”
“Do not try my patience further!” Gervest sharply cut off any further discussion. “If you are discovered in the forest again, you will serve this castle from its dungeon.”
The chastised couple promptly bowed and retreated from Gervest’s view. Samuel and Michael stood close by and observed Gervest’s callousness. Samuel began scanning the upper chamber of the room, where the two viewing balconies loomed. Gervest took notice of his caution and spoke to ease it.
“The balconies have been sealed off. The words that are spoken on this level of the chamber will not be heard by others,” assured Gervest.
“In the matter of recruitment in the Kileson province, let me say that a number greater than four-thousand have pledged their loyalty to you,” said Samuel
“By the time I am sovereign, I expect those numbers to double. There must be no challenge that we cannot defeat.”
“Of course,” agreed Samuel.
“There is strategy we must discuss, come with me to the council chamber,” Gervest commanded.
While Samuel followed Gervest from the room, Michael lingered behind. Samuel looked back with a puzzled expression as his son stood placidly near the sovereign’s chair.
“I was hoping to see Loran,” said Michael.
Samuel stood and frowned with displeasure at his son’s awkward yearning for the woman pledged to him—despite her desire. He shook his head in disapproval until Michael relented and joined him. The two men continued after Gervest.
* * *
Luciena Preece cavorted through Gervest’s bedchamber in his absence—admiring anything she felt was valuable. Most of the paintings on the walls drew not even a glance—with the exception of the gruesome battle scene, which extracted an excited grin as she ran her fingers over the carnage, so accurately depicted. She breezed over to the balcony and sighed a carefree breath. Her joy was shattered when she identified a carriage—an all too familiar one—on the road to the castle.
Luciena slammed her hands against the top of the stone ledge of the balcony.
“This can’t be!”
She ran into the bedchamber and continued out the entrance door. Her legs rapidly rose and fell on the chamber staircase as she raced down the cut stones without restraint.
The approaching carriage belonged to the second wealthiest man in the province. The horses swept through the front gates of the castle and brought the carriage to a standstill once inside. When the carriage door swung aside, Liam Preece, a fit man of forty-one, and dressed in attire befitting his stature, stepped onto the cobblestoned ground. He looked toward the courtyard and advanced unimpeded toward the inner castle entrance.
Winded, and having just wiped the perspiration from her forehead, Luciena greeted her husband when he entered the inner castle.
“Liam . . . I didn’t know you had concerns . . . in the castle today,” Luciena sputtered out, between deep breaths. “I would have waited for you before visiting with Loran and Leanna.”
“Yes, your growing . . . fondness for the Avileens has become quite the conversation starter, and not just in Avilbrook.”
“I . . . well, I . . . .”
“Do not stress yourself, my dear. The truth is I was unaware that you had left Avilbrook. It appears your mother was under the notion that you were inspecting the latest baubles from your favorite shop.”
“I thought maybe Loran or Leanna might like to accompany me, so I came to invite them.”
“That is quite the coincidence; I just received an urgent request by messenger from Leanna, not an hour ago.”
“Leanna? Why would Leanna ask for you?”
“I suppose we shall both soon know, my dear,” Liam replied. He walked past his wife in the direction of the conservatory. Suddenly, he stopped and turned back to Luciena.
“Did Loran or her mother accept your invitation?”
The fragility of her deception briefly concerned Luciena. What if Leanna reveals my lie? She thought. However, she became emboldened and convinced herself that her charms had the power to sway any man.
“No, they are occupied today,” she replied.
“Well then, I shall have the honor of escorting you back to Avilbrook in my carriage.”
“It is with great pleasure that I receive your company,” Luciena responded, with a sweetness bereft of sincerity.
Liam nodded and resumed his course.
* * *
Deep in the conservatory, Claire was prepared to leave Leanna’s side when she noticed a guard headed her direction. She decided to take a path that exited to the outside of the conservatory, near the gardens. The guard gave no notice of her departure when he arrived from the opposite direction, and halted before Leanna.
“My lady, Liam Preece has arrived in the castle and is requesting an audience.”
“Would you see that he finds his way to me?”
“Yes, my lady.”
The guard retreated to the conservatory entrance, where Liam patiently waited for his return. Leanna watched the guard point in her direction. A warm smile accompanied Liam’s arrival alongside her.
“My lady,” Liam delivered a short respectful bow of his head. “I find it difficult to believe that the destruction of an orchid warrants such urgency as you described in your note.”
�
��You would be correct in your disbelief,” confirmed Leanna. “The deception was for the sake of any who might intercept and whisper the contents of my note. And it is unnecessary for old friends to address each other so formally.”
“As you wish, Leanna,” he replied. “Subterfuge is not a ploy I’ve ever associated with you. I can’t imagine why you feel drawn into it now.”
“I have known you and your family since you were a child, Liam. You did not obtain your great wealth by being unaware—at least of matters having importance to you. You may even have infiltrators in the castle.”
“I won’t deny that information is a commodity I am known to pay generously for,” Liam said without shame. “But I assure you, Leanna, I have placed no spies within the dominion of your walls.”
Leanna nodded at his vow and invited Liam to stroll with her through a path that cut through the lush plants and fragrant flowers.
“Do you still support the sovereign as you have in the past?” questioned Leanna.
“Gilvius has never shown any cause to do otherwise. However, I must reveal my concern with the son he has chosen to replace him.”
“As I said, Liam, you are informed of decisions that have yet to be publically revealed.”
“With all respect, Leanna, the changes that are already prevalent in the castle have sped up the scattering of concern over Gervest—who has, without any discretion, made it clear the severity of his rule.”
“And to whom will you align if events continue to unfold, without interference?”
Liam halted his stride to face Leanna.
“I have enjoyed this dance, Leanna, but one of us must confide in the other if we are to get to the heart of both our concerns.”
“First, I must have the answer as to why you have allowed Luciena to consort with Gervest?”
Liam was not surprised by Leanna’s question or of her assumption that he knew of his wife’s unfaithfulness—but then, it wasn’t Leanna he was trying to deceive.