Elzor recalled the mysterious light in the sky on their first night in Talcris. A light he'd dismissed as unimportant. “The day we invaded Agrus, I saw a light in the night sky. It was distant and faint, but it could have been this giant metal bird you envisioned.” He met her gaze again. “You said they found a Stone. How can you be certain they won't try to acquire the other two?”
“I can't.”
Elzor's face radiated tension and anger. “Well, then, what's to stop them from taking the Stone back where they came from? If that happens, all our plans are for naught!”
“They're not going anywhere,” Elzaria said. “I saw, as clearly as I see you now, the woman get bitten by a hugar. She appeared to be dying, and the boy was trying to save her. Then the two of them vanished into thin air.”
His eyes widened. “Where did they go?”
“This is the best part of the story.” She grinned. “You see, at the time this castle was built, the Agrusian Stone had already been found centuries before. On several occasions, women exposed to the Stone developed Wielding abilities, but they were put to death as demons or sorceresses before they learned to develop them. The rulers of Agrus decided to hide the Stone in the sub-dungeon of this castle, behind a machinite door that no one could penetrate.”
“We know all that!” Elzor interrupted. “So where is it now?”
Elzaria let out a frustrated breath. “I'm getting to that. One of the King's advisors made a bargain with the leader of a band of Vandan slavers: in return for assassinating the king, thus making him ruler of Agrus, he would give them the Agrusian Stone. However, the plan went awry. On the day the Stone was to be entombed behind that door, the King discovered his advisor's treachery. They set a trap for the Vandans, and there was a great battle inside the newly built castle. The King and his family survived, and the King had the advisor beheaded. However, when they searched for the Stone, they discovered it had vanished, as had many of the slavers. The King sent search parties after it, but the Vandans had disappeared into the Praskian Desert.
“Eight slavers survived the attack, and they rejoined their clan-brothers in their trek across the desert. It was their intention to take the Stone, and the slaves they'd acquired during numerous raids, back to Vanda. However, they never made it there.”
Elzaria made a show of pointing to another spot on the map. Elzor, Langon and two commanders leaned forward to see where she'd indicated.
“Right here,” she said, “is a plateau, through which the river Ix runs. It then proceeds through this forest before it breaks off into its numerous tributaries. The slavers reached this plateau, an oasis that abuts the Plains of Iyan. One night, the Vandan leader got drunk and –” she gritted her teeth, remembering her most unpleasant memories, “had his way with one of the slaves, a woman who was not as broken as she appeared to be. The fool, thinking the woman sufficiently chained, fell asleep, leaving the Stone within her reach.”
“Let me guess,” Elzor said. “She developed Wielding abilities?”
“Correct. The transformation nearly killed her. By the time the Vandans realized what had happened, it was far too late for them to do anything about it. She freed herself and the other slaves, and used her elemental abilities to slay the raiders.” She gave a slight smile. “Several more women developed various abilities soon after: one had the power to heal, one to make the ground fertile. One learned to communicate with the beasts of the wilderness. Not all of them became Wielders, but they discovered that they had no desire to return to their homelands.
“And there, their descendants remain to this day. Right here.” She used her index finger to indicate a spot on the map.
“Fascinating,” Elzor said, his earlier sarcasm long abandoned. “A tribe of women, hidden on the outskirts of civilization for centuries.” He surveyed the faces of his commanders, who wore equally stupefied expressions.
One commander, a tall man named Brynak, said, “How could a bunch of women possibly survive out there for centuries without men?”
Elzaria bristled at his words. Fighting down her bile, she said, “The most likely explanation is that they seek mates in other lands.”
Elzor's eyes widened. “Could—-could our mother have been one of these women?”
Elzaria met his gaze. “I believe that is the case, yes.”
Her brother stood up, looking over the faces of his men. “So we have one Stone in the hands of beings from the Above, and one in the hands of this tribe of women. How do we go about wresting their prized possessions from their grasp? I don't imagine they're going to give them up without a fight. Can … can you defeat these Wielders, sister?”
She bowed her head. “I will do my best, my liege.”
“Langon, what are our numbers at this time?”
The burly man drew himself up. “We have eleven hundred warriors ready to march at your command, my liege.”
“Very good. See to it that the merychs are properly shod and packed with provisions. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“It will be done,” Brynak said, saluting.
“Do you have a plan, my liege?” Langon asked.
An evil grin spread over Elzor's face. “I most certainly do.”
Chapter Forty-Six
M izar awoke just after sunrise, which was not unusual for him. He stretched his leg and back muscles as he climbed out of bed, smiling at how good it felt to be home again, sleeping under the same roof he had as a lad. After dressing in a clean set of clothes and downing a bracing mug of cold water, he decided to go for a morning walk around his family's land. Sen was still sacked out in the guest room, and a peek through Vaxi's door confirmed she was still asleep as well.
Ever since retiring the night before, he'd replayed the rather strange conversation between himself and this mysterious girl repeatedly in his mind. Something she'd said gnawed at him.
“You're a Wielder,” she'd said. “But you're a man.”
What a curious thing to say. Most denizens of the neighboring countries knew of Mizar's existence. He, like all the previous High Mages, was known far and wide as a Wielder. What Vaxi said, and the way she said it, made him believe she'd been exposed to Wielding before.
His mind immediately harkened back to his vision about the two unidentified female Wielders preparing to do battle with Elzaria. Arantha had shown him that image, and he had clearly meant for Mizar and Sen to be in the right place at the right time to save Vaxi. Mizar did not believe in coincidences, and this was just one more question he planned to ask her this morning.
His stroll took him past the fields where a small herd of gurns were grazing, and wondered how Gandrel would react when he returned to discover his milking apron now had a large hole burned through it. He wandered past the billock coops, turning a corner to see Kimur using a large axe to chop logs in front of an enormous pile of wood.
Kimur smiled as Mizar approached. “Morning, Mizzy!” he said cheerfully, splitting another section of log in two.
Mizar rolled his eyes, giving him a mock-annoyed scowl. “'Tis unwise to anger the High Mage, cousin, have you not heard?” To demonstrate, he held his palm out, creating a miniature air-spout, which ruffled the hair on Kimur's brow.
Kimur instinctively took a step back. “Okay, okay, calm down already,” he said, burying the axe-head in the large stump he was using to split logs upon. “You're up early. I would have thought, living in the castle for all these years, you'd have taken to sleeping late.”
“Pfft,” Mizar scoffed. “My scholarly duties do indeed require a clear mind, cousin, but Arantha provides me with more than enough energy to sustain myself.” A grin spread over his face. “My apprentice, on the other hand … wild merychs couldn't rouse him.”
“Say no more.” Kimur's expression became serious. “I meant to ask you last night—-why have you come back? Not that we're not delighted to have you, of course, but your arrival was rather unexpected.”
Mizar sat down on top of the nearby log-pile, whi
ch was sturdy enough to hold his weight. “I told you of the ominous visions I've been having. I was concerned that, should the crisis escalate, I might not have the chance to see Father again.” He hadn't shown it, but Mizar was alarmed at the sight of Deegan, how frail he'd become. When Mizar was a child, Deegan was robust and healthy. Now he could barely move without help.
Kimur placed another log on the stump, reared the axe back and chopped it in half. “I've had the best physicians in Ghal examine him, but sadly, there's not much we can do except keep him comfortable.” He smiled. “Last night was the first time Deegan's been free of pain in years. I wish we could have Sen stay indefinitely, if only to make your father's passing more dignified and bearable.”
Mizar nodded. “When Father's health began to decline, I asked the King if I could move him to Dar where I could look after him. His Majesty agreed, but Father, of course, wouldn't have it. His attachment to this land is unbreakable, and not all that difficult to comprehend.”
“Indeed.” Kimur split another log in two.
“Where is Father? I checked his bed, but he wasn't in it.”
Kimur pointed at a large, solitary reesa tree in the distance. “He decided to visit Areca's grave this morning.”
Mizar squinted in that direction and, sure enough, he could just make out a lone figure standing in the shadow of the tree. Deegan had his back to them, and he appeared to be looking at the ground.
“Did he say anything to you?” Mizar asked. “He had a rather odd look on his face when he excused himself last night.”
Kimur shook his head. “He had that same look when he left the house this morning. I don't know what's gotten into him.”
“I will go talk to him.” Mizar stood up, gave a nod to Kimur, and strode away.
“Breakfast will be ready in about an hour,” Kimur called after him.
Deegan didn't move a muscle during the several minutes it took for Mizar to cross the field. His father was still staring at the ground, at a small, square, marked stone that simply read “ARECA.” Deegan's shoulders were slumped, and it was obvious he'd been crying.
Out of respect, Mizar bowed his head and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his father, staring down at the gravestone. He noticed Deegan's hands clenching and unclenching, and his entire body was vibrating.
Mizar put a hand on his shoulder. “Father, are you all right?”
Deegan raised his head, staring straight ahead rather than at Mizar. “It is Arantha's will that you have chosen this time to return home, my son. That is clear to me. It is equally clear that I must avail myself of this brief time we have left. I may not get another chance.”
“What do you –”
“I do not have much longer to live.” Deegan's eyes were moist with tears. “My heart has become weak, and it's only a matter of time before I journey to the Great Veil.”
When Mizar had cited his father's ill health when asking for permission from King Aridor to return home, it was only half-true, as he hadn't wanted, at the time, to reveal the details of the vision that led him to Vaxi. Hearing now that his prediction had been correct made his heart feel as if someone was prying it from his body with a dull knife.
Composing himself, he replied, “Even the most stout-hearted man may quake when facing his own mortality. It is a journey we will all make.”
Deegan shook his head. “I do not fear death, Mizar. I've had years to prepare for it. I've made my share of mistakes, as all men do, but there is still one monstrous sin that I must atone for.”
Mizar's eyes widened. “What are you talking about? What sin?”
Deegan shook himself free, returning his gaze to the gravestone. “If you were to dig deep into the soil beneath this marker, you would expect to find the remains of your mother. However, you would find nothing.”
Mizar felt his entire body stiffen. “Where is she, then?” he asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
“I do not know, son. She left me before you were born.” He hung his head in shame.
Mizar took Deegan by the hand and led him to an old wooden stool that had been placed next to the tree, sitting him down upon it.
“I didn't know her that long,” Deegan continued. “Only a couple of months. But in that short time, I came to love her. I would have given anything to keep her with me.”
Mizar knelt down on the ground at his side. “Perhaps you'd better tell me the story.”
Deegan nodded. “My father, like his father before him, taught me everything I needed to know to run our farm. By the time I was twenty-four, I had taken over the more rigorous tasks of our day-to-day business, including making monthly trips to Ghal. But there was one trip, just weeks past my twenty-fifth birthday, that changed my life.
“Your grandfather tried several times to pair me off with daughters of other landowners, but I refused. I wanted to marry for love.” He smiled. “He took quite a bit of convincing, but eventually he came around.
“I made this particular trip to purchase several head of gurn and ten bags of feed. Imagine my surprise when, on the road to Ghal, I came across the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Tall, elegant, beautiful sun-kissed skin, deep brown eyes … my heart was instantly lost.
“She said her name was Areca, and that she belonged to a tribe of nomads who roamed the land from the Plains of Iyan to the southern wetlands. She told me that in her tribe, it was customary for women to seek adventures in other lands, to broaden their knowledge of the world.”
“A worthy custom,” Mizar said.
“Well, I couldn't let such a vision of loveliness simply pass into the night. She, too, was on her way to Ghal. I offered to get her a room at one of the more respectable inns if she would agree to share a meal with me. She accepted. We talked well into the night, and by the time I retired for the evening, I knew there was no other woman on Elystra for me.
“Over the next few days, everywhere I went, she came with me. We toured Ghal, and when I concluded my business, much to my delight, she accompanied me back home. Mother and Father were rather curious about her, of course, but they instantly warmed to her. We offered her a room and a bed, and she agreed to stay so I could continue my courtship of her.
“A month later, I was asking her almost daily to be my wife, but she seemed uncertain. Her answer was always the same: her people, her own family awaited her return, and she could not stay indefinitely. I tried everything I could to persuade her to stay. I had even convinced myself that my love for her was returned. When we began, um …” he coughed nervously, “being intimate, I took that as a sign she was going to stay. But then, a few weeks later, she was gone. Just like that. No notes, not even a goodbye. She just got on her chava and left.”
Mizar's heart skipped a beat. “Chava?”
“Yes, son. She, like all her people it would seem, rode a chava. Just like this girl you've brought to our home.”
“You believe they are from the same tribe?”
“I do. They have the same complexion, the same beauty. They even wear similar clothes. Though Areca was not a fighter like this girl is, I have no doubt they are from the same place.” He cast a mournful look at Mizar. “None was more surprised than I when you turned up on our doorstep. I wanted to do the best for you that I could, but I thought that … if we told you your mother died, you wouldn't grow up thinking she abandoned you. My family agreed. The truth is, the lie was as much for me as it was for you. I didn't want you to see your father as a gullible fool who proclaimed his undying love for a woman who obviously didn't return it.”
“Father,” Mizar said softly. “You're not the first man to be blinded by love, and you won't be the last.”
A glimmer of hope flashed through Deegan's eyes.
“But,” Mizar continued, “I wish you'd told me this a long time ago.”
“I should have. I am so sorry, my son.”
Mizar stood up and walked over to the gravestone, staring down at it and rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully. He shook hi
s head as he tried to put all the pieces together.
“Son, what is it?” Deegan asked.
He met his father's concerned gaze with a stern one of his own. “Have you ever wondered why I, of all people, was given these abilities?”
Deegan tilted his head, puzzled by the question. “You were chosen by Arantha, of course.”
“Arantha does speak to me, yes. But he could have chosen anybody. Without these abilities, I'm just another Daradian farmer. I come from a good family, but I am not of noble blood.”
Deegan rose to his feet. “You're a good man, son. Arantha sees that. Just look at what you've done for our country.”
“ 'A good man.' ” Mizar gave a coarse laugh. “No. There is another explanation.” Before Deegan could reply, Mizar took him by the arm. “Come with me, Father. It's time we all got answers.”
* * *
Mizar entered the dining room to see Kimur, Mareta, and Sen waiting for them. Six places had been set for breakfast. They were all smiles as Mizar and Deegan sat down to a plate of boiled eggs, roasted gurn meat, and a loaf of chaska bread with manza preserves. Before they ate, however, Mareta insisted Vaxi join them, so they waited as she helped their young visitor dress in a clean, loose-fitting beige tunic, socks, and boots belonging to their fourteen-year-old son, Lymus, who was of the same height and build as Vaxi.
When Vaxi appeared on Mareta's arm, she looked infinitely better than when she'd arrived. The color had returned to her face, she walked with barely a limp, and she seemed to have reached a level of trust with her hosts significant enough to share a meal with them without punches being thrown. Deegan smiled warmly at her. Vaxi, for her part, pleasantly greeted Deegan, and even thanked him for opening his home to her.
The six of them made small talk over the course of the meal. Mizar kept his overwhelming curiosity at bay with difficulty, but the breakfast table wasn't the place for such questions. A good night's sleep and Mareta's maternal ministrations had done wonders for her spirit.
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 36