Emotions flowed over Seith’s face. He obviously didn’t want to leave his father, but he had a wife and a child on the way. And his father looked ready to throw him out on his ear. Seith grasped Ainara’s arm and pulled her out a small door, into a narrow hall, and away. She had barely enough time to wave good bye.
Plarrean watched his little family go. With them the future rested. He met the gazes of his advisors over the swirl of fleeing people. They knew what must come next. They moved to his side as one, without a whisper of hesitation. How had it come to this?Plarrean closed his eyes. He was so lucky in his advisors and friends. And now they all were putting their hope in the words of the prophet, Tarol Lorjan. Him and…
Plarrean met the eyes of the woman with beautiful red hair. They called her Carchanézeil, Hidden Jewel of Time, or Carcha but she insisted on Jewel. She was a mysterious and strange one. Her magic was so similar to theirs, but so different too. And strong. One could feel the weight of her power even now. Tarol had said that she was the only one who could anchor their last chance. The question was: what was she? Both she and Tarol said she was dragon, her magic’s similarities said so too. The only thing that didn’t were her eyes; eyes a lovely emerald green with flecks of gold. So strange in a room of silver veined blue, Lvessa pale silver, Ucora red-gold, human brown, blue-gray and green. Her eyes were more human, now that he thought of it. What was she? And where had she come from?
But did any of that matter if the heart was true?
In Plarrean’s hand, the Enaza Terelle rested in its sheath. There was a cracking sound on the door. He started to draw the silver sword into the light when there was a resounding crack.
The throne doors flew open. Even though he was prepared for it, it was still a shock. In walked Shantév. Emperor Shantév, he remembered. But the man interested in a peaceful alliance was no longer there. No. Now there was a warlord in his full glory. Gold was worked into ornate black and red leather armor. And a smug, triumphant smile spread across the sun bronzed skin.
“Shantév…”The name was a hiss ground between Plarrean’s teeth.
***
Present Day- Pershara
Bendon led the others down a dimly lit corridor in the lower reaches of Castle Mortia. Despite having worked hard to enter the castle, the group was now trying to exit. Their quest to rescue their friend and King, GrimHolden had been complicated by the fact that the target of their quest had, in fact, escaped on his own.
It was infuriating to be operating in the dark with the same lack of foreknowledge as the rest of the world. Because of a mistake in the application of magical forces, for much of his considerable lifespan Bendon had lived in his own past and thus had at least a limited understanding of the future. But time has a way of catching up on itself and he no longer had the advantage of 'a posteriori' knowledge of the future. He had, in fact, lived the last few hours over a thousand years ago but the memories were lost to him.
"Durn thangs chafe the wrong places" Sergeant Tolivier grumbled under his breath as he pulled at the rough cloth of his robe.
"Hold your voice down." Gawin said. "The three of us are supposed to be nuns."
The burly sergeant looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Yeah... About that..."
"No one is saying a word to anyone." Bendon said under his breath. He was the only one dressed in a monks grey robe having turned his amazing cloak inside out and producing said robe in the process. "Now all of you be quiet or I swear I will do something far worse than making you wear a nuns habit."
They walked in silence for perhaps another ten steps when Tolivier grabbed the hem of his gown and started to curse. Tep gave him a quick jab just as another monk walked around a corner. Bendon nodded briefly to the other monk while the three pretending to be nuns bowed as they had seen others do to Bendon.
"Brother... Take these three to our mistress's chambers. They will join the other porters carrying her wardrobe to the palace. She is ready to teleport so they had best hurry if they wish to avoid our mistress's wrath." The strange monk said.
Not knowing what to do Bendon nodded.
Apparently this was not the expected response because the other monk paused and watched the four as they moved down the hall.
"Brother..." The other monk said as they finally passed. "Remove your hood... Let us see your face."
As Bendon reached his arms up to lower his hood, the burly nun, who was in actuality Sergeant Tolivier, stepped forward instead and coldcocked the monk with a roundhouse that would have floored a horse.
The monk in question collapsed like a sack of potatoes with a barely audible grunt. The sergeant dragged the comatose man into a small room just off the hall and divested him of his light grey robe. A smiling and infinitely more comfortable Sergeant Tolivier joined the others in the corridor.
"Was that necessary?" Bendon asked.
"Yes. It was fun." The sergeant answered matter-of-factly.
"We need to get to that portal outside the side gate." Gawin said urgently. "Jewel could be giving birth any moment."
"Yeah well, climbing up a sewer is a lot harder than sliding down. We need to find a different way out." Tep grumbled.
"Our friend gave us our way out... We follow Altana's porters" Bendon said as he started the group moving down the corridor again.
Gawin paused and looked at Tep. "He actually wants to find Altana?"
Tep shrugged and responded with as thick an accent as he had ever had prior to Jewel and Kindra's recent and intensive diction lessons. "What'a der be da point of life lessen ya have some citement?"
"'Mind me da have that 'finer points a wisdom' talk wit ya later." Tolivier broke in.
“Hush... We're here" Bendon whispered.
The hallway turned and they faced a flurry of activity. A mix of white and grey robed novitiates hurried into and out of an ornately decorated door at the end of the hall. Most leaving the room were carrying packages or bags.
The four made their way to the room in question. The plan was simple. Grab a bag and follow the group outside. Even simple plans sometimes become complicated. As they were handed bags to carry, one of the elite white robed monks spotted Sergeant Tolivier and separated him from the rest.
"You there... You're big enough for litter duty... Head down to the courtyard. You can help carry my secretary and his staff." The white robed Maltacken priest said.
Not knowing what to do Tolivier responded with a feeble. "Aye sir."
Yet again, this apparently was not the expected or required response. The priest looked at the Sergeant with a look of utter shock. "Aye sir? Aye sir? Are you daft?"
He went to strike the big man with the back of his hand but Tolivier reacted instinctively and grabbed the hand and twisted down. The white robed monk collapsed to his knees with a gasp and a curse. The man immediately began to summon a powerful spell to strike out at the defiant sergeant but Bendon, feeling the pressure of the magic on the nape of his neck, lashed out with his own, far more powerful, blast a fraction of a second faster.
A blue nimbus enveloped the man and he went flying across the room with a loud thunderclap.
"Run!" Bendon screamed at the others. "Every magic user that can snuff a candle will have felt that. We have to get out of here! As in yesterday!"
Dropping all pretense, the other three dropped the bags they were carrying and dashed for the corridor they had seen the others moving down. There had to be a gate to the outside somewhere in that general direction. Guards and clerics rushed towards them with swords and staffs drawn but a constant barrage of magic counter attacks from Bendon kept them at bay. The four raced down corridors as fast as they could. Unfortunately with every energy blast or protective shield Bendon tossed up their presence was further broadcasted.
Mortia was as confusing a castle as Bendon had ever been in. Worst, the only time he had been in it was as a very young man and injuries suffered immediately after that visit obscured his memories. He had no real idea where they were going as
they ran down hallway after hallway.
At long last they spotted an exit. Bendon cleared an opening through the guards with a concussive blast that sent men flying in every direction.
Just as they were making a dash for it Bendon heard a voice he had been dreading echo from the cobblestones behind him. "Oh father... You have been a bad boy... What shall we do?"
Chapter Ten- Choices and Sacrifices
Tommy watched from the trees just outside the side gate to the castle known officially as Mortia but unofficially as the Dark Keep by the locals who lived in abject fear of the place. It hadn't always been so. Tommy had grown up in this castle and knew its walls best. Unfortunately, with that familiarity would come unwelcome recognition. Tommy's family had ruled these lands for generations but the coming of the Dark Lords had cost him his home, his childhood and his parents. He dared not enter the fortification for fear of drawing unwanted attention.
He felt the press of magic on the back of his neck. It carried with it a touch that he had come to recognize. Kindra, many leagues to the east was trying to contact him. Her skills as a dragon born imbued her with skills few could match without great effort.
"Dearest, are you able to converse?" Kindra projected in his thoughts.
"For you? Always." He returned.
"Gawin is a father. The child is strong and has a good measure of the gift from both her mother and her father. We await your return."
Suddenly Tommy felt a large and frequently repeating pressure at the back of his neck. That was not a good sign.
Kindra must have felt his unease. "Dearest? What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure... Be ready for the unexpected. I have a bad feeling about this."
***
Kindra sat back on the bench and stared at Robert as he gently rocked Jewel's baby in his arms. Jewel was in a light healer's sleep that Robert had induced in order to promote a speedy recovery from the rigors of birth.
"We may have a problem."
"Oh?" He said while smiling at the bundle in his arms.
"Tommy is concerned and warned me to be ready for anything." She added as she reached for her granddaughter. "You might want to reconsider a healing for Jewel... We may have to move fast."
Robert looked at the sleeping woman for a moment as if making up his mind. He typically preferred letting a body heal itself, but this was perhaps the wiser choice given their situation. Heaven only knew what would happen when the others returned through the portal plates Bendon had setup in the floor of the workshop.
As he placed a hand on Jewel's abdomen she stirred slightly. He magically encouraged her to continue to sleep as he flowed energy reserves from himself into her birth-torn tissues. Slowly, the fibers began to mesh. He thought about the portal that he and Gawin had spent weeks designing and ultimately built in this very room.
Unlike the portal plates that Bendon had used, which required one or more matching sets at the destination, their machine could pick a arbitrary location in time and space. Perhaps it would be best to set it up for a fast escape. The real question was 'How to prevent someone from following them through it?'
As Jewel began to stir awake, he thought he had the answer. It broke his heart but he would instruct the machine to fuse critical parts two minutes after its next use. This would give their group plenty of time to travel through in pairs but would not allow a large party to follow them.
He stood up and made his way to the device.
Kinda, seeing the general direction of his movements spoke up. "Are you thinking what I think you are?"
"Probably." He said. "I'm going to calibrate this for Thioden. There will be safety there. The magics of the city should have repaired the Great Library by now. No one, not even Altana will look for us back there so soon. I'm setting the device with a self-destruct so it can't be used to follow us. I'm also going to cloak it in an obscurant spell to hide it from all eyes but those of our group."
"I think you are being wise... You are a good man, Robert Kimbridge."
"Not always... But I'm trying." He said with a self-depreciating smile.
***
519 years before present... Arathin (Marlhema)
“In here, Ainara.”With a gentle yet firm push she ended up in a small room. It was furnished as a cozy sitting room. Seith quickly shut the door.
“Seith, what are we doing in here? I thought your father told us to leave. To escape.”
Seith turned away from the window he had been pondering.“That is what we are going to do, but I can’t make a portal in the middle of a hallway for them to find easily.”He came over and collected Ainara in his arms. He kissed her briefly before whispering.“For our child’s sake, I can’t take that risk.”He turned from her again to face the window. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Slowly his hands rose as if surrendering. Ainara could feel the air thickening with power, feel the pressure building upon her nape. Seith’s eyes snapped open. A haze clotted the window. Then, as if it were water and someone tapped it, the haze rippled away. In its place was a nighttime forest. A shudder swept violently through the whole palace.
“What is happening?”Ainara cried.
Seith glanced wide eyed in the general direction of the throne room.“They’ve started.”It was barely a whisper. A look of such sorrow was in his eye that Ainara wanted to question him. To comfort him. But instead Seith grabbed her arm and dragged her through the fabric of space. The last she saw of the palace was an eagle; a hundred times bigger and blacker than deepest night. The floor was crumbling. And a brilliant light was shining through the doorway. Then she fell into a cold nothingness that suppressed her at the same time as it felt endless. It lasted for only a second.
Cold, clear, and crisp was the outside they stumbled into. Seith helped her to her feet. The two of them were trembling from shattered nerves.“That portal was strange…”Seith murmured softly. He glanced to where the portal sat shimmering.“But we ma…”Seith’s eyes widened in stunned horror.“No!”Seith shouted as a searean bre darted through the portal. The portal shuddered in its final moments. Just as it rippled in on itself two more seareanflung themselves through. A blinding light licked at them before the portal collapsed completely. The bird that had been closest to the light screamed and fell. Ainara didn’t see where it landed for Seith pushed her off the road and into the eaves of the forest. Ainara stumbled forward a few paces before she turned back. Seith stood on the road, head tilted toward the sky. The two remaining searean circled. One of them hissed before diving toward Seith, but Seith was not there; at least not the man Seith.
Ainara had, so often of late, seen Seith in his other form due not to the simple joy that came with it, but to its superior strength and innate weaponry. Still she could not get over the magnificence. He was the size of a small barn. A proud head started a serpentine neck that widened into a deep chest. There was a cracking sound from his whiplash tail. From the tip of his snout to the tip of his restless tail were scales of silver. Knife like talons flexed into the earth of the road. Seith lowered his head; snarling. His back arched, causing the spines running down his spine to stand. The same went for the sail that began at the crown of his head to his shoulders. His bat-like wings unfurled slightly. Moonlight bathed the skin of both wing and sail to palest gold. His silver veined blue eyes needed no light to shine fiercely. With a bout of fire spilling from his jaws he leaped into the air; meeting the diving bird. He struck at it with two raking claws.
The eagle screamed and made to retaliate. It got a face full of fire for its trouble. Its fellow made to attack but was met with a powerful blast of wind that threw it hundreds of feet into the sky. Seith beat his wings after his improvised feather ball. The searean whom received an unhealthy dose of fire to the face followed screaming in fury. One thing absolutely known about the searean bre, besides their mindless bloodlust, was their core deep hatred of the dragons and their magic.
Ainara stared after them in mute awe and terror. How much longer could Seith keep fi
ghting? Deep breathing and a snapping twig broke into Ainara’s worry. She turned and saw red eyes, like a searean bre's, glaring at her from the shadows across the road. Ainara gasped, her hands covering her mouth. Stumbling toward her was a skeletal man with sallow skin. His tattered shirt framed a seeping rip in his flesh. She could just see the white of his clavicle at the top of the rip. He was breathing deeply. His burning red eyes focused hungrily on her.
His mouth was moving. At first all Ainara could focus on were his eyes and the ragged wound. Eventually she could hear what he was saying.“Come, come. I hungry…you tasty, yes? Yessss.” At the end of it he started to lunge for her. Ainara tore her eyes away and ran. She crashed through the underbrush like a crazed beast. She could hear high laughter behind her. It reminded her of hunting hounds braying. Through the crunching of leaves and snapping of branches she could still hear it talking.“I’ll eat you... I’ll tear into you…Blood…you have it…. I want…lots and lots of blood…”And other such horrible snippets. Ainara whimpered and worked her legs harder. She longed horribly for a speck of wood sense. Maybe then she could escape without leaving a road for the crazy man to follow. Her leg muscles burned and protested the sudden demand she was making on them. Living in a palace did nothing to prepare the body for the rough terrain of a forest. It was even harder pregnant.
She lost all sense of direction. All she knew was that she was heading up hill. Her dress was in ruins. The fabric had been snared by countless branches. Her bound hair was now everywhere. Burs entangled it. Ainara slowed down to a walk, panting. She couldn’t keep running. She hadn’t heard the man for some time now. Maybe he had lost interest. Maybe he had slipped and hit his head on a rock. Wouldn’t that be nice? What horribly callous thoughts. In response to the out of touch voice in her head, Ainara raised a very indecent, unladylike mental hand gesture. Her chest heaved, trying to hold more air then it was ever designed to hold. She was dizzy. She listened to the forest around her. A roar startled her into looking up. Far above she could see a spark of orange fade. A silver shape that seemed to glow was circled by two drifting shadows. A brilliant flash of blue white light engulfed one of the shadows. Pure marana: Starfire.
The Ways of Mages: Two Worlds Page 8