A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga)

by Hartke, J. T.

  Boris nodded. “A garrison still mans it much of the time, though it is mostly out of tradition.”

  “Unlike Highspur,” Tallen blurted out. He watched Boris’ face for a reaction. He got little.

  “Highspur is essential to the security of all the southern lands, not just Gannon.” Boris folded his arms. “Though it is hard to make most of them see that.” He looked toward several of the dwarves and Sergeant Hall gathered about a barrel. Brawny hung close to his master, the expression in his eyes similar to when Tallen cooked around the huge hound. “Come. Let’s see what they’ve found.”

  Maester Northtower slapped his hand on the top of the barrel. “I paid the captain five gold marks for it, and I say we crack it open.” His twin nephews and the grizzled sergeant named Marrax Redarm nodded in response. “That way when we reach Magdonton at dusk, we’ll have a half snoot full before we visit her inns!” The other dwarves applauded.

  “You can count me in…” Sergeant Hall began, clapping his huge hands together. Then he noticed Boris. “With My Lord Earl’s permission, of course.”

  Boris laughed. “Why not? I’ll have a mug myself, if Maester Northtower is sharing.”

  The dwarf held out the first full tankard, his dark eyes sparkling. “I insist, My Lord.”

  Boris took the oversized mug and gave it a sip. He hoisted it with a smile. “It’s good!” He wiped the froth from his mustache with a hand, while Hall and the dwarves gave a cheer. Tallen joined in. Hall even set a bowl of the brew on the deck for Brawny to lap at with vigor.

  Before long, most of the group had wandered over by the barrel of ale. Maddi and Tilli joined in with a cup. After a few, Darve invited even the off-duty crew to come over for a taste. Magus Britt joined them, clinking his mug against Boris’.

  Darve turned to Sergeant Hall. “So, how is that axe holding up?”

  Hall patted the steel behemoth that never rested far from his side. “Good. I care for it quite well. I know how rare a dwarf-made axe large enough to fit me is.”

  Darve nodded. “You saved my life during the Border Skirmishes. A Northtower does not forget a debt.”

  “You all knew each other in the Border Skirmishes?” Tallen seated himself as close to Maddi as he could without being obvious.

  “Not all of us,” Boris answered. “Darve and his dwarves were to remain as neutral observers when they arrived. Hall was in the guard detachment of King Arathan’s emissary among them.”

  A wry grin wrinkled Magus Britt’s lips. “The Earl and I were…helping a band of Yadushii Highlanders raid deep inside Hadonese territory.”

  “I was only a corporal then.” Hall stared at his mug wistfully.

  “Bah!” Corporal Magrudy waved his hand in dismissal. “You came out of your mother’s womb a hard-assed sergeant!”

  Hall lifted an eyebrow as he drank, but Tallen noticed the smile behind his mug.

  Magus Britt downed his cup and placed it upon the barrel. “Thank you gentlemen, but my apprentice and I are both limited to one drink.” He looked at Tallen, his head tilted back to examine him. “I have a special lesson planned for you tonight in Magdonton. There is a garden that I wish for you to visit. It is the perfect time of year to show you one of the most popular, and most tricky, applications of Water.”

  Tallen looked into his cup, nearing its bottom. He poured the remainder into Brawny’s empty bowl.

  The docks of Magdonton rambled along the north shore of the Andon River. Hundreds of boats, for transport, fishing, and pleasure, lined up in relative order. The Shasta glided into berth next to an empty grain barge that floated high in the water.

  Tallen hopped onto the dock immediately behind Magus Britt.

  “Easy lad, you’ll catch my boot heel.”

  “Sorry, Magus.” Tallen ducked his head in apology. “I’m eager to be about our lesson.”

  “Good. Just remember to temper your eagerness with caution.” Magus Britt looked over his shoulder, the dog-headed staff clacking time against the cobblestones. “You mess with very powerful forces, Tallen. Far too powerful for one of your age and skill. You must learn to control yourself, as well as controlling your power.”

  Jaerd hovered nearby, his eyes upon the darkening streets. Maddi and Boris looked at each other and the dwarves and Hall who walked away to find a tavern, laughing coarsely. The normally silent Brawny bounced around them barking.

  Boris lifted one eyebrow. “Mind if we join you?”

  Maddi shook her head up and down in vigorous agreement. “A walk in a garden is just what my legs need after days on a boat.”

  Magus Britt shrugged. “Why not?”

  Several blocks into the city, a stone-walled orchard appeared around a street corner. A tired old guard stood near its entry, his tunic of midnight blue spangled with a crescent and stars. He straightened from leaning against the wall when he saw Magus Britt’s blue cloak.

  “General Magus.” The man still had a sharp salute for his age. “Do you wish entry to Milord’s garden?”

  Magus Britt returned the salute. “Those apple trees still grow here, do they not?”

  “Aye, sir. They do. Just setting new fruit now, sir.”

  The guard opened the rusty iron gate, which creaked with disuse. Tallen followed the mage inside and looked about.

  Obviously, the gardener comes through a different gate, because he is here every day.

  Narrow slate paths webbed their way between ankle high bluegrass. Rose hedges lined many of the routes, vibrant in white, yellow, and a dozen hues of red.

  Magus Britt led them down toward the eastern end, where several rows of apple trees grew against the shortened wall. Jaerd remained close, his eyes upon the entrance. Boris and Maddi strolled along the paths while the sunlight disappeared behind the trees. A few stars pricked the eastern horizon.

  Surely, an Earl isn’t going to…

  Tallen squinted to watch the two disappear on the far side of the garden.

  He might not marry her, but that never stopped a noble from dipping below his station for a little fun!

  Noticing his expression, Magus Britt chuckled under his breath. “Don’t worry. She’s far too young for Boris’ tastes.” He cleared his throat and raised his bushy eyebrows. “Now focus on me.”

  The Bluecloak mage reached up into the branches of the tree. An odd tingle rippled up Tallen’s spine. A long branch with several pea-sized apples came loose in Magus Britt’s hand, its edge cut with precision.

  Tallen slapped his hands together, his thoughts regarding Maddi driven away for a moment. “I think I felt you touch your power!”

  Magus Britt nodded. “It happens soon after you first embrace your own. That was Air – a very tiny bit like a thin knife to slice through the tree branch. You are not only powerful, but you learn quickly.” He cleared his throat and forced the pending smile from his face. “That is a good thing, because you have a great deal to learn. Moreover, since you are so intelligent, I shall be expecting a great deal from you. Come.”

  He walked over to the edge of the apple orchard. A dead tree stood there, trimmed of its branches, with a small red ribbon tied about its trunk. The Battlemage embraced his power again, and Tallen felt the tingle in his spine once more. He could almost see a fine sliver of Air as it cut its way through the tree trunk, down into the ground, and around its dead stump. Another tingle and the tree’s remains flew over toward a brush pile stacked along the wall.

  Pointing toward the empty hole in the ground where a few roots still stuck up, severed perfectly across their grain, Magus Britt waved the apple branch in front of Tallen. “Take it and stick it into the soil. Pull enough dirt around so that it stands on its own.”

  Tallen did as the mage asked, the smell of sour apple brushing his nose with the branch.

  “Now embrace your power, but do not draw upon it yet.” Magus Bri
tt watched Tallen with a keen eye. “Because of the nature if things, which I hope your father or one of your brothers has explained to you, each apple seed is a cross between its two parent trees. This means that you cannot be certain that an apple from a new tree is sweet until you bite into it, and that can take years of waiting and tending to get a tree to maturity.”

  The mage’s voice slid along the back of Tallen’s consciousness. He heard the words and listened to their meaning. However, most of his perception remained focused on his power and the five Aspects that each called to him with their own, individual voice.

  “Therefore it is one of the most important jobs among those mages skilled strictly in the Aspect of Water to make new apple trees from the older, taste-tested ones. That way you know the fruit will be identical.” Magus Britt pointed at the branch, leaning limp against Tallen’s dirt work. “Use Water, Tallen. Send it into the branch. Feel the wood, and touch the leaves. Imagine the roots spreading into the ground, twisting about in search of the natural water. Grow the tree, but slowly, with control. Do not grow the apples, just the tree and its roots.”

  Tallen touched the Water, its cool embrace becoming more familiar with each dip. It traveled up his consciousness, flowing about his mind. He focused it into the tree limb, feeling the Water course along the veins in the wood. The miniscule buds scattered about the center branch stretched outward, creating new limbs and sprouting new leaves. The original twig swelled into a trunk. When he felt the new tree start to lean, Tallen focused his attention downward, extending new roots out into the deep, loamy soil. His own power drew upon the natural water, pulling it into the tree to replace the magical Aspect.

  “Easy…” Magus Britt whispered, his mouth agape at Tallen’s work.

  A giggle sounded from behind. Tallen heard Boris’ belly laugh, and the giggle grew into a joyous cackle.

  His concentration slipped. The Water rushed through him unchecked for only a moment. The tree strained to take all the power, shooting out blossoms that popped with a dust of pollen. Many of the blooms grew into small fruits that inflated and turned red.

  Magus Britt shook his shoulder. “Stop!”

  Tallen let go of his power, forgetting the tree. His balance wavered, and he nearly lost his feet. Magus Britt grabbed his arm to steady him.

  “What did I tell you about control?” He pointed to the tree. “Look!”

  Dozens of ripe, out of season apples hung from the tree, weighing down its spindly new branches.

  “That was too much.” He shook his head. “It is done by rich fools to have apples when they shouldn’t, but you might well have killed that tree. It certainly won’t bear fruit again for several years.” Magus Britt let go of Tallen when he nodded. “It has also been known to kill the mage, when the fool wasn’t strong enough. You obviously are, but that does not mean you have no limit. You must learn that there are consequences to each of your actions.”

  Magus Britt took a step back. “Watch.” His hands reached out, and this time Tallen felt the tingle deep in his gut. A small globe of fire appeared in between the mage’s palms. It grew until it was the size of one of the overgrown apples on the nearby tree. “The fire is small, but it warms the air around it.” He grew the globe again. Several of the branches above began to sway. “The fire warms the air, the air moves the trees, the trees shake their fruit – all is connected.” He threw the fireball into the sky. It roiled and spiraled as it darted upward, growing in size. Magus Britt snapped his fingers. The ball exploded far above, spreading across the night in an umbrella of red and orange that twinkled and faded away.

  “Now imagine if that fireball had exploded right here. This would be a far different place.” Magus Britt brushed his hands together several times. “That is what magic can do, Tallen. If that had been Fire you were working with at that moment, you could have killed us all.”

  The mage’s words sunk into Tallen’s heart. He mulled them over, considering the bare moment he had lost control of the Water. He’s right. And that was only the tip of what I could have drawn.

  “I understand, Magus.” Tallen nodded meekly. “It was my mistake. I will learn control.”

  Maddi and Boris walked up, both staring at the ripe apples with surprise.

  “Tallen made these?” Boris walked over, picked one, and bit into it with relish. He took a few chews, and then closed his eyes, munching away. “Oh, this is delicious…” He tore into another bite, ripping away several chucks of white flesh. “I have rarely tasted as good. Crisp, clean, sweet.” He grabbed another, then two more for his satchel.

  Maddi pulled one from the tree for herself and bit into it. The juice trickled down her chin, catching a facet of the last light of day. Her face widened as she turned her eyes on him, rewarding his magic with a smile.

  The giggle he heard before escaped her lips once again.

  “Bridgeway to the West”

  —inscription on the Tearbridge

  Stew nudged Tallen’s shoulder, insisting on another apple to follow the one used to coax him across the gangplank.

  “I don’t have any more.” Tallen pushed the palfrey’s nose away. “Why I kept you of all father’s horses, I’ll never understand. You know you’re a girl’s horse.”

  Stew snorted.

  “The stable at Lilly’s Pad has a wonderful paddock.” Sergeant Hall scratched Stew’s neck. “You’ll be able to stretch those legs there, old boy.”

  “Let’s be on.” Boris swung into the seat of his black stallion, his steel-shod hooves clattering against the concrete of the pier. Boris clucked his tongue, and the horse quick stepped toward the main avenue leading to where the River Road passed through West Bridgedale.

  Tallen took stirrup and heaved himself into the saddle. Stew trotted forward to catch up with the Bluecloak horses. The dwarves rode on spotted ponies. Tallen pulled back on the reins, casting his eyes over his shoulder.

  “Am I to jog behind you, Milord?”

  Maddi stood upon the pier with her arms folded.

  “You brought no horse on board.” Tallen’s face reddened, and he extended a hand. “You don’t look like too much to add to old Stew.” He kicked his foot out of the stirrup. “Come on, before we lose them.”

  Slapping her gloved hand into his, Maddi hoisted herself up. After settling in, she gave him back his stirrup and wrapped her arms around his torso. Tallen tapped Stew’s reins. The horse skittered once upon the cobblestones, but soon adjusted to the girl’s added weight.

  They caught up to the others at the junction with the River Road. Around the corner of a tall manor, Tallen glimpsed the bridge that gave the town its name.

  Spanning the Snowbourne Fork on three concrete and stone pylons, Aelron’s Bridge leaped into the sky in long arcs of bronze between the huge columns driven into riverbed. Several pieces sparkled reddish-brown, newly placed along the metal arches. However, most of them ran with long streaks of faded green.

  His nose filled with Maddi’s jasmine scent, Tallen pointed at the yard-wide bars of bronze. “The streaks are why most people call it Tearbridge. Not that I’ve seen it before, myself. I just read about it.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Tallen gave Stew free rein, and the old horse slowed for a drink at the sparkling fountain in the center of the intersection. The lowering sun bounced off the water as it sprayed into the clear pool. The rays glittered off the Tearbridge too, although Tallen had difficulty focusing on anything other than Maddi’s hands resting on his waist.

  “Tallen!” Jaerd turned his horse back from the others, who continued down a side street curving off from the River Road. “Stay close!” He trotted back toward them.

  Tallen frowned at his brother. “You stay close!” He spurred Stew forward. “We’re the ones riding double.”

  Jaerd nodded his head. “Fair enough. I did not realize Maddi had no horse on board t
he Shasta. My mistake.” He frowned. “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

  “You were.” Tallen smiled. “You just called for me, remember?”

  Jaerd waved them forward, turning his own horse about. “Come on. Let’s be on to Lilly’s. I hear it’s quite the place.”

  Tallen clucked his tongue to urge Stew forward, and he noticed that Sergeant Hall lingered at the edge of the square on his thick-legged horse. The soldier looked away quickly, but Tallen knew the man had been watching over him as well. Brawny sniffed in Tallen’s direction, and then loped after the sergeant.

  “There you are.” Magus Britt met them where a side street left the River Road. “You do dawdle from time to time.”

  Lilly’s Pad sat on an entire city block, not far from the northernmost pier along the Snowbourne. It rose three stories into the air, with several outbuildings including an elegant stable with a well-tended, ringed paddock. A large garden of both flowers and vegetables grew in a plot. Cheerful candles lit the windows, and the wide double doors stood open and inviting. The rest of their party waited for them.

  Boris made a gesture toward Corporal Magrudy. “You and your squad are dismissed, Corporal. Report to the local garrison for barracks. We will pick you up when we return westward.” Boris frowned. “I hope no later than Midsummer.”

  “Aye, Milord.” Magrudy saluted, fist over heart. He repeated the gesture to Sergeant Hall, before urging his horse back the way they had come. His squad followed close behind.

  Maddi hopped down from behind Tallen, his heart leaping with regret as her hands slipped away. “Your bony nag is breaking my backside.”

  “He’s not bony,” Tallen said in a mockingly sweet tone to Stew. He swung out of the saddle. “He’s just…seasoned.”

  Maddi walked away, shaking her head. Tallen could not help but notice that her bruised backside looked no worse for wear.

  The dwarves had disappeared inside at the first opportunity, but Boris and Magus Britt waited with Hall at the door. At Boris’ insistence, the sergeant barked at Brawny and pointed at the stable. The big dog trotted inside, his head and tail hanging. Jaerd passed off his reins to a stableboy, and Tallen did the same, watching the others disappear through the doorway.