The Silvering of Loran

by G. B. WREN

  “A brave bluff, but unnecessary,” said Topen. “I do not use the blackened stones, and I have no desire to harm you. However, I suspect you have never believed such assurances from those you seek.”

  “No one ever stops using a blackened stone,” the young woman stated, with fiery conviction.

  “I do not have time to convince you otherwise,” Topen replied. “You should rest now.”

  Topen opened his palm and tiny particles of light, resembling dust, passed to the young woman’s face.

  “Wai—” she tried to mutter, before falling to the floor, unconscious.

  “I should charge you extra to clean up your mess,” said Agsloth.

  “Is that it?” asked Topen, eyeing the pouch Agsloth clutched.

  Agsloth placed the pouch on the counter, far from the melted necklace that still emitted the heat of its destruction. He reached inside and slowly removed a flawlessly cut, clear crystal stone. Topen lifted it from Agsloth’s hand and rested it in his palm—while holding the stone he had just used in his other hand. The chamcryst began to transform, mimicking the shape and coloring of the stone in Topen’s other hand. In moments, the chamcryst had completed its transformation. To a casual observer, Topen now held two identical stones.

  “Your price?” Topen asked.

  Agsloth stepped back from the counter and studied Topen for a moment, while he pondered his answer.

  “You could have given the searcher a rewarding scent to follow,” said Agsloth. “Is it that you had not yet procured what you came here for, that you did not?”

  “Of the two of us, only one can lay claim to never using a blackened stone, but the searchers do not see any innocence in their desire to punish. They would just as easily strip you of your mind for any information that would feed their irrational hunger—to eradicate all the blackened stones, and the evil that they invoke.” Topen sat the chamcryst on top of the velvet pouch. “Even if I could, I would not ally with such blind ignorance.”

  Agsloth had resented Topen over the years, often due to Topen besting him in a bargain, but also due to his aggravating sense of virtue. Still, he knew Topen was a man to be trusted with an agreement, and would honor any that he struck. However, care with the words that construct the bargain was essential.

  “I am going to propose something that I would offer no other,” voiced Agsloth. “I will loan you the chamcryst.”

  Topen raised an eyebrow at Agsloth’s suggestion, expressing doubt of his sincerity. Agsloth reacted with a quick explanation.

  “The offer is real, but before you think I have softened, there is a condition. The next time a blackened stone comes into your possession, you will deliver it to me instead of destroying it. That is my price.”

  Topen stared at Agsloth across the counter, just long enough to consider his words, and leave the impression that he was reticent to accept his offer—before he swept the chamcryst up from the counter.

  “We have a bargain.”

  * * *

  Daramose stood regally near the entrance to the stables on Topen’s estate. He shook his head energetically when Topen came close with a velvet pouch—that he secured in his saddlebags. In the distance, Emily, the young daughter of Hanson—the stable manager, walked alongside her father as they strolled towards Topen. The six year-old girl broke from her father’s stride and ran alongside Daramose. She raised a small red jewel, secured on a leather strap, and presented it to Topen.

  “What is this, now?” Topen asked Emily, who looked up at him with a bright smile.

  “It’s a talis . . . man,” she proudly declared. “It will keep you and Daramose safe.”

  “She picked the jewel out herself and asked me to infuse it with protective magic,” said Hanson, arriving a few steps behind his daughter. “I’m making no guarantees, you understand,” he joked.

  Topen took the talisman from Emily’s hand and found a place on Daramose’s saddle where he could place it. Emily watched intently as Topen tied the leather strands together through a small metal ring near the horn.

  “See . . . it won’t leave Daramose’s side,” assured Topen.

  Emily’s bright smile grew even larger when her father scooped her up as she returned to him.

  “If all goes well, you will barely notice my absence,” Topen said, and placed his foot into the stirrup. He rose to the saddle, and with a quick nod, he was off.

  Hanson and Emily offered parting waves to Topen while Daramose raced from the stable entrance—toward the path that would take them back to Loran.

  “Did you do your very best magic on the talis man?” Emily asked.

  “My very best,” her father assured. “Don’t worry, they will return . . . they always do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  PENLARIS—NEPSARIL

  DARAMOSE DREW NEAR THE OPEN gates of the sovereign’s castle. Two guards stood outside the gate and walked towards Daramose as he approached. When they reached Topen and his stallion, it became obvious that their intent was to block Daramose before he could get any closer to the castle entrance.

  “Topen!” shouted the young guard who had advanced to Daramose’s side. “Kelamar has asked us to watch for you and inform him of your arrival before you enter the castle.”

  “I will wait here while you advise him as he has instructed.”

  The young guard nodded and retreated into the castle. The second guard was much older, and wore a short beard with gray hair scattered throughout. He remained with Topen and constantly skimmed the area—ever diligent in his alertness.

  “You’re Casimit, aren’t you?” Topen asked.

  The guard glanced upward at Topen—including him in his constant scans.

  “I am surprised that you would remember me,” said Casimit. “I have not spoken with you since the great castle war.”

  “I remember you as a very young man when Kelamar pulled you from the soldier ranks and instructed you to guard the innermost castle.”

  “I was just a boy. I would have perished long ago if not for the captain. I owe a debt to him I can never repay.”

  “What of the younger guard? Does he hold Kelamar in such high regard?”

  “He was picked by the captain himself to wait for your arrival. He can be trusted, but all he knows of you are rumors of the man who never ages. He knows nothing of your magical land. I told him who you were when I spotted Daramose from a distance.”

  “Kelamar has entrusted you with many secrets. It is no small task to demonstrate worthiness in his eyes.”

  “Not even my wife shares the knowledge the captain has given me.”

  The young guard returned from the castle entrance with Kelamar at his side. Kelamar’s scowl hinted of the news he carried.

  “Gervest has tightened his control over movements in and out of the castle,” warned Kelamar. “Too many of his personal guards inside the gate follow his command only. Skirmishes with the guards placed directly by Gervest are on the rise.”

  “Do you know why Gervest has chosen to exercise such control?” Topen asked.

  “He is trying to weaken my position among the guards, but there is more to it. Since you left, he allows no one but his personal guards and Penlaris near him.”

  “Penlaris?” Queried Topen.

  “An advisor to Gervest.”

  “How long has he been a counselor?”

  “For quite some time,” Kelamar reflected. “You might recall that he was the new advisor I had heard about the day of Loran’s cotillion, on her sixteenth birthday.”

  “The question now before us, is the manner in which my arrival is announced,” said Topen. He reached into his cloak and removed a stone. “We do not want to needlessly incite a war within the castle.”

  Topen dismounted and handed Daramose’s reins to Kelamar.

  “Daramose is not as patient as I am when dealing with aggression,” said Topen. “If you will walk him through the gate, the guards’ attention can remain focused on me.”

  The fo
ur men walked together towards the castle entrance, but only Topen and Kelamar—with Daramose in tow—passed through the archway and into the crowded entry. To Kelamar’s surprise, the faces that looked in their direction mostly displayed pleasant smiles.

  “What is that stone doing to them? I’ve never seen so many misplaced grins—even on the most aggressive among them.”

  “They see me as someone they trust, admire, or even desire,” Topen explained. “My form appears differently to each of them.”

  Kelamar glanced over at Topen, and once again to the smiling faces around them.

  “You look no different to me. Am I immune to its influence?”

  “No, my friend, the stone is just confirming your trust of me since I appear as myself to you—and a few of the others around us as well.”

  The two men stopped when they reached the edge of the courtyard.

  “I will see that Daramose is well tended,” said Kelamar. “If notice of your arrival hasn’t already begun to spread throughout the castle, it will soon—after you cross the courtyard. It won’t take long before Gervest’s guards try to prevent you from seeing Gilvius.”

  “Is he still confined to his bed?”

  “Yes, and Leanna has informed me that Gervest has recently assigned one of his personal guards outside their chambers. She fears that Gilvius is near death.”

  Topen returned the stone he held to a pocket beneath his cloak and turned to Daramose’s saddle. His fingers first touched the talisman dangling from the ring near the horn. He caressed the bright red stone between his fingers. After he extracted a velvet bag from the saddlebags, his motion across the vast courtyard was swift—with an unwavering resolve.

  * * *

  The guard stationed outside the chamber of the sovereign watched Topen as he grew near, and placed his hand on the handle of his sword. Topen advanced with his eyes directed downward, his hood drawn purposely over his head to mask his face. The sound of the sword drawn from its sheath drew Topen’s attention to the sharp steel now pointed at his head.

  “Yield and identify yourself,” the guard snarled.

  Topen raised his head. The guard formed a twisted smile of recognition when the light illuminated Topen’s face.

  “You look just like your portrait, Topen,” he sneered. “Oh, I imagine it surprises you to know I have seen it,” he taunted.

  Topen raised his hands to his hood and lowered it onto his back. And before the guard was even aware of the magic emanating from Topen’s palm, he found himself slumped on the floor, fading into unconsciousness.

  Leanna was sitting by Gilvius’s side in the bedchamber when she heard her chamber door creak open. She couldn’t see who had entered until Topen passed the wall blocking her view of the entry. Upon first sight of him, her eyes showed hopefulness through the despair that had taken her.

  “I do not know how much longer he has,” Leanna spoke, her voice weak. “His eyes have not opened for two full days. We must not lose him, Topen.”

  Topen maneuvered close to Gilvius from the other side of the bed. He pulled a light stone with blue veining from beneath his cloak. The stone shone brightly with an iridescent blue glow when Topen placed his thumb upon it. The glow flowed from his hand as he passed it over Gilvius’s body.

  “Do not worry, Leanna,” consoled Topen. “I know this magic that devours him. I can restore his health.”

  Leanna stood and smiled through her tears at Topen’s assurance.

  “He has suffered for so long, I pray that it was not Gervest who has caused his father so much anguish,” Leanna whispered.

  Topen continued to pass his hand over Gilvius for a few moments longer. Small particles of white light passed from the blue and penetrated his body. Topen placed his hand directly over Gilvius’s face. He began to respond and opened his eyes to the first clear thoughts he has managed in months. Gilvius first saw Topen, and then felt Leanna’s grip on his hand. When his eyes found her, a familiar confidence flowed from his kind smile.

  “As beautiful as I find your tears, my love. I am not yet willing to relinquish myself to eternity.”

  Leanna laughed at the words her husband was so fond of reciting whenever he felt she needed reassurance. She was finally convinced that he had returned to her.

  “How long have I been under this darkness?” Gilvius asked Topen.

  “We can’t be sure, but we suspect it began sixteen years ago.”

  Gilvius flinched at the suggestion that such a long period had passed while he was under the control of another.

  “However, those who are manipulating you must not know of your recovery. Your appearance will take longer to reflect your true age, but if evil discovers their deceit has been uncovered, we will lose the advantage we currently wield.”

  “As Sovereign, I can stop—”

  “You are sovereign in name only, a figurehead to preside over Gervest’s ascension,” Topen stated bluntly.

  Gilvius accepted Topen’s words without protest. Gilvius had always demonstrated the ability to know when to take advice. If Topen were involved in restoring the Avileen’s course, he would gladly yield to whatever strategy he would employ.

  “I would advise that Leanna place a mask of despair on her face when visited by anyone you do not trust. And you, Gilvius, must appear to be sleeping for a while longer,” Topen instructed.

  “Do not worry, Topen,” said Leanna. “We will not betray the joy you have given us this day.”

  “Do not be concerned with the guard outside your door,” said Topen. “Soon, he will have no memory as to why he has fallen asleep while on duty. He will not want word of his carelessness to reach Gervest.”

  * * *

  Topen let himself into Loran’s chamber when his repeated knocking on her door was unanswered. He surveyed the room and noticed that the painting of him was absent. After another perusal, he started to leave. Suddenly, Rolam and Loran appeared in the middle of the chamber: Loran’s thumb floated over her magical stone and her hand joined with Rolam’s—to make him invisible as well.

  New among Loran’s adornments were two thin silver bracelets on her wrist. She extended her arm upward, and with eyebrows raised, jangled them playfully for Topen to notice, which he did with admiration of her stylish use of the silvering solution.

  “I’m surprised you did not sense me using this stone,” said Loran. “You detected it before.”

  “The stone is no longer bonded to me,” explained Topen.

  “Why not?”

  “It joined with you after your silvering.”

  Loran inspected the stone in her hand, but she didn’t feel any closer to the object than before. How does a stone bond with you? She pondered.

  “Loran has been showing me much since you were last here,” said Rolam. “However, I do not believe I will be able to complete the silvering.”

  “Perhaps not, but you can still use the stones—as long as you have the silvering solution,” said Topen.

  “Loran has provided several small bottles for my use. I carry them with me so they will be undetected from the searches Gervest has ordered.”

  “His guards enter our chambers when they are certain we are not nearby,” revealed Loran, repulsed by their snooping.

  “We think one of us was seen leaving Loran’s chamber on the night of our gathering,” said Rolam. “Whatever Gervest suspects, he has gathered no knowledge from those who were present.”

  “His guards have learned one thing,” declared Topen, while eyeing the spot on the wall that his portrait no longer occupied. “They now seem to recognize me on sight.”

  Loran tracked Topen’s gaze and understood his inference.

  “Throughout the years, there has been only two occasions when Holt’s painting of you remained on my wall without my presence,” explained Loran. “The first was the day Holt brought it to me, and the second was the day I found you in my chamber when you returned to us. I remove it every morning and place it where others cannot see it.”


  “Then, you may have an admirer among Gervest’s protectors, one who watches as you sleep,” suggested Topen.

  Disgusted, Loran scowled at the image Topen had placed in her head.

  “If that is so, I promise that he will only leave here with nightmares should he be so confident as to invade my rest again.”

  Topen and Rolam had no doubt of her determination to make the voyeur regret having ever entered her chamber.

  “Gervest has been made aware of my presence in the castle by now,” said Topen. “No doubt, his guards are seeking me out. I will let them find me in the library, and persuade them to bring Gervest to me.”

  “Liam has been awaiting word of your return,” said Rolam. “While I suspect he has already received the news, I will travel to Avilbrook today to confirm it.”

  Topen removed a velvet bag from within his cloak and handed it to Loran. She pulled a shiny black stone with deep red veining from within it.

  “I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful,” said Loran.

  “The blackened stones present an appealing beauty. Not many have resisted their allure when held so close,” said Topen. “Nor escape it.”

  Loran continued to admire the beauty of the stone.

  “There are a few more instructions I must leave with you before I go,” said Topen.

  * * *

  Gervest, accompanied by Penlaris and two of his protectors, marched down the hall towards the library. The scornfulness on Gervest’s face drove his accelerated pace and irritation at being summoned by Topen. However, Penlaris’s demeanor—despite having matched Gervest’s rapid strides—was outwardly calm, the apprehension he held for Topen’s unexpected arrival remained veiled.

  As Gervest’s entourage reached the library entrance, the two leading guards flung open the doors. Gervest, who had by now worked himself into a frenzy, stomped past them into the room.

  Topen had seated at the far end of the table in the center of the room. But even from a distance, he was able to evaluate the appearance of the man whom he had just recently become aware, Penlaris. Though he did not recognize the image of the older man with long white hair, he still felt something familiar about him.