Ascendant

by Craig Alanson

  Carlana didn't know whether to be angry, proud or amused. "I know that ring. It's ugly, it's been in the family for years, but I don't think anyone has ever liked it." She smiled, with only one side of her mouth. "My daughter has out maneuvered me, I suppose I should be proud."

  "She is a very determined young woman, your Highness. And clever."

  "Determined and clever may also be viewed as stubborn and sneaky, chancellor. It does not help that my chancellor went behind my back."

  "Please understand, I am in a very difficult position, your Highness. Legally, I am your daughter's chancellor, and I am responsible to her for personal matters. This did not affect state funds or property, and your daughter ordered me not to tell you."

  "Don't make this a habit, chancellor."

  Koren stored his tools in a closet on the second level of the wizard’s tower, it was a cramped, dark room with no window. He was putting his tools back, one day after cleaning up after one of the wizard’s explosive potion experiments, when he knocked a chisel off the shelf. It struck the floor, cutting a chip out of the stone. Koren wasn’t concerned about damage to the floor, it was already scarred from centuries of hard use. He picked up the chisel, the same chisel he had used to break the iron gate in his failed search for the Cornerstone. The chisel was unharmed by its fall. He was about to place it back on the shelf, when the deep scratch in the floor caught his eye.

  Getting down on his knees, Koren inspected the mark the chisel had made in the stone floor. It looked familiar. Without thinking what he was doing, he picked up a hammer, and used the chisel to make the gouge in the stone longer.

  "Son of a-" He exclaimed.

  The marks made by the chisel looked exactly like the scrape marks in the floor of the Cornerstone chamber! Everyone assumed the marks had been caused by the enemy dragging the Cornerstone across the floor. But, if those marks had been made by a chisel, the enemy must have carved the marks to make the people of Tarador think the Cornerstone had been hauled away. The scrolls Koren had read all said those scrape marks proved the Cornerstone had been dragged off its platform, and across the floor. Could he be the first person to see the truth?

  But if the Cornerstone had not been dragged away, what had happened to it?

  "Ho, young master Bladewell, are you ready?" The weapons master asked, as he wiped down the sword he had been using to spar against one of the royal brats he had to train. Or, had to waste his time with, since most of them were not serious about learning weapons craft. His time with Koren was, by contrast, pure delight, for the wizard's servant was diligent and never complained. And, having never used weapons other than a bow before, Koren had no bad habits the weapons master needed to correct.

  "Yes, sir. I have a new sword, sir, Paedris bought it for me to use."

  "The wizard bought it for you?" The man said with a frown. "A soldier should choose his own weapons."

  "Oh, I did, sir, I chose this blade, I should say that Paedris paid for it. Hedurmur-"

  "Hedurmur? You have a dwarvish blade? Give it here, let me see it." The man demanded eagerly. "Hmm, yes, a fine blade," he cut the air with it, and tested its balance, "a fine blade indeed! I don't have such a blade. This is true dwarvish make, not one of the human-made blades the dwarves only finish, this comes from the forges of Kzod itself." He sighted down the blade suspiciously, and tested the sharpness of the edge by lightly running it along one of the thick, heavy leather armor vests which hung on the wall of the weapons storeroom. Even with very light pressure, the blade sliced right through the leather, as if it were passing through water. The weapons master whistled admiringly. "Koren, try something for me," he asked as he handed the sword back to the boy, "test the edge by running your thumb along it. Carefully, go lightly!"

  Koren did as he was asked, and was disappointed to feel the edge was dull. "Sir, I'm sorry, I only got this blade two days ago, I don't know why it isn't sharp." He said with shame. A soldier cares for his weapons, he should have honed it that morning.

  "Ha! It is sharp," the weaponsmaster held up the sliced-open vest to demonstrate, "that you have there is a magic-spelled blade. Dwarvish magic. It can't cut you. And it will almost never go dull, so don't you bother trying to sharpen it. Paedris himself has such a blade, yes, him and the old king, Ariana's father. Our wizard paid a handsome sum for a blade like that, I reckon. Don't you let anyone monkey with that blade, they'd slice themselves open to the bone before they knew it. Now, let's put a brass guard on your new blade, and see how you use it."

  "Yes, sir," Koren said while gazing in awe at his sword. Hedurmur nor Paedris had mentioned anything special about the blade. "Uh, sir, could you teach me to fight against an axe?"

  "Hedurmur thumped you good, then?" The weapons master smiled. "All right, it's time you learned to fight against our foul orc enemy."

  “Hello, Kyre!” Koren shouted across the courtyard, waving at his friend.

  Kyre was still sore from his own sparring session with the weapons master the day before, and in a foul mood. It was late, and the early Spring night was cold, he wanted to hurry across the courtyard and relax in front of a warm fire, not waste time chatting with the wizard’s servant. And Niles Forne had again scolded Kyre for going out riding with Koren, rather than attending to his duties. Riding horses with the wizard's servant was one of the few times in a week that Kyre could relax and forget about rank and protocol for a while, for Koren knew nothing about either. “Koren, when we’re in public, it is proper for you to call me ‘your Grace’. I’m not a kitchen servant you can shout at.” Forne’s suggestion that Kyre was not loyal to his father had stung him, and Kyre had been avoiding Koren for a week.

  “Oh, sorry, your Grace.” Koren bowed slightly, the smile falling away from his face. “Good evening to you.”

  Kyre grunted and was about to walk away, when Koren spoke again. He had spent most of the day cooped up in the tower by himself, and was eager to talk to someone, anyone. And, being a teenage boy, he couldn't resist teasing his friend. “Full moon tonight, your Grace.”

  Kyre spun around, angry to be delayed in the cold by stupid small talk, when he had an idea. “Yes,” he agreed with a wicked smile, “it is a full moon. Koren, you’ve been here in the castle a while now, have you ever climbed the old bell tower on the night of a full moon?”

  Koren looked up at the bell tower, part of the original fortress. It was no longer part of the outer wall, so no guards patrolled on top of it. “No, why? I’ve been up there in daylight.”

  “It’s a tradition. Young royal men do it to prove they are brave. But don’t worry about it, you’re just a servant.” Kyre turned as if to leave.

  Koren was hooked. “I can do it! What’s so scary about an old tower?” Koren looked up at the stone spire. It wasn’t even very tall, as towers go.

  “The tower isn't scary, it’s the full moon. When the enemy captured the castle, they were let inside by traitors, and one of the traitors killed the guards on top of that tower, before they could warn of the attack. The ghosts of those guards still patrol that tower, and you can only see them in the light of a full moon.”

  “Really?” Paedris had never mentioned that there was anything special about the light of a full moon.

  “Really.” Kyre said, as if he were a wizard himself. “I’ve been up there, you can hear them and see them.” Kyre’s felt butterflies in his stomach when he remembered being paralyzed by fear on the stairs of the tower, he had not actually gone all the way to the top, although he’d never admit that to anyone. “Of course,” he said haughtily, “I wasn’t scared. Koren, you don’t have to do this.”

  And so, of course, Koren had to do it.

  The steps that wound their way upward in the old bell tower were worn down in the center, so smooth they were almost slippery. This tower was even older than the tower where Paedris lived, the windows there were mere narrow slits, spaced wide apart. Koren had to feel his way, hugging the outside wall. When he reached what he thought was half
way up to the roof, he stopped. Was that voices he heard? He couldn’t tell if it were voices, or his imagination. He peered out the window slit. The moon had gone behind a cloud during his climb, it was now so dark he could barely see his hand in front of his face.

  Koren kept climbing, occasionally stumbling on an uneven step, until he saw an opening above him, dimly lit against the patchy clouds. The stone steps ended on a flat wooden floor. What Koren remembered from the one time he had been atop the tower, in full sunlight, was that the railing along the edge was rather low, so he inched forward until his foot touched the railing. He glanced down, where he could barely see Kyre in the shadows of the courtyard, looking up at the tower. “Ha!” Koren said to himself, this was not such a big deal. Kyre had been playing a trick on him, there were no ghosts. He waved down at Kyre, but the ducal heir couldn’t see, it was too dark. Koren looked up at the clouds, if he waited a moment, the moon would be visible again, and he could prove to Kyre that he, Koren Bladewell, had climbed to the top of the tower by himself, and was not afraid at all.

  Then the moon came out, illuminating the courtyard with a cold silvery light, Koren was sure Kyre could see him. He stood at the railing, waving his arms, calling out in a loud whisper. “Kyre! I’m up here! Kyre! Hey, I’m up at the-“

  Koren suddenly became aware of voices behind him. Someone else had climbed up the tower behind him? He turned and-

  Saw ghosts.

  They wore uniforms with the symbol of Tarador, and armor in an old style, and carried swords that glinted brightly in the moonlight. “Whooo goooes theeere?” the voices called, as the ghosts moved to surround him, reaching out to grab him. He felt icy fingers on his arm, and he panicked. He later didn’t remember bursting between the ghosts, evading their bony, outstretched fingers, leaping through the opening in the floor, tumbling down the first couple stairs, taking the rest three at a time, bouncing off the hard stone walls all the way down, until he stumbled through the doorway to sprawl at Kyre’s feet in the courtyard.

  Kyre’s eye were as wide as Koren’s. He had not expected Koren to actually reach the top of the tower!

  “Did you-“ Koren gasped between breaths, “did you see them?”

  Kyre nodded vigorously. “They were all around you! You shouldn’t have been standing near the railing like that!”

  “When I,” Koren caught his breath, “got to the top, there was nothing, it was dark. I didn’t see them until the clouds went away. Where did they come from?”

  Kyre shuddered, as if he could feel the icy hands of the ghosts on his skin. “They are always there! In the light of a full moon, the shadow realm becomes visible to us, here in the real world.” Kyre spoke as if he were a wizard himself. “Did they hurt you?”

  Koren held up his arm, which still felt cold. He rolled up the sleeve, and saw faint red marks, where the ghosts had touched him. “N-no. It f-feels cold, but it doesn’t hurt.”

  Kyre felt ill, as if he were going to faint. “Come on, let’s get you in front of a fire, and something hot to drink.”

  “That sounds good,” Koren said, rubbing the marks on his arm to take away the chill. Suddenly, he looked up at the full moon. The ghosts are always there. Koren’s mouth dropped open. The shadow realm becomes visible in the light of a full moon! “I- I have to go.” He turned and ran as fast as he could toward the castle.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Kyre asked, startled, but Koren had already disappeared around a corner.

  Koren knew there was no way the royal guards were going to let him inside the palace, at such a late hour, without an appointment. But the Cornerstone chamber was not truly part of the palace itself, only attached to it, and so Koren ran all the way around, to the door of the corridor that led to the Cornerstone chamber. The guard there nodded to Koren and opened the door for him, servants often used that corridor as a short-cut between parts of the palace and the kitchens. But when Koren got to the chamber, the heavy doors were locked shut. He tried to look through the crack between the doors, and was frustrated to see only darkness.

  There were windows, set high up in the chamber wall, near the roof! He could look through those windows. If he could get up there. He turned around and raced back down the corridor, up two flights of stairs and opened a window, careful not to let it squeak. Below the window was a roof, which led to the outside wall of the Cornerstone chamber. If he could manage to crawl along the wall to a window, he could see inside the chamber.

  After his last experience climbing out a window and onto a roof, when he very nearly fell to his death, Koren was not eager to repeat the experience. He looked up at the moon, it was halfway down toward the horizon already, and clouds were building. He took a deep breath, and put his trembling right foot out the window onto the roof.

  Koren was about to yank open the door to the wizard’s bedchamber, when he realized that was a foolish idea. Paedris set ward spells every night, if Koren had yanked opened the door, he might have set off howling banshees and been blasted back across the hallway. Ever since Kyre warned Koren that the wizard saw him as nothing but a servant, Koren had been very careful around the powerful sorcerer. Perhaps he should forget about the Cornerstone, and let Paedris sleep? No, this was too important. He used his fist to pound on the door. “Paedris! Lord Salva, please, you must come quickly.”

  The face that appeared when Paedris opened the door was that of an old man, befuddled by sleep, no more a wizard than Koren was. “What time is- Koren, what are you doing?” Paedris asked with a jaw-stretching yawn.

  “Please, sir, put on your robe, you must come quickly. The moon is setting sir, please hurry!”

  It was a sleepy and grumpy Paedris who ordered the guard to unlock the door to the Cornerstone chamber. The wizard half suspected his servant was playing a prank on him, perhaps something Carlana had ordered. “Koren, if this is a joke, it is most certainly not-” The wizard halted in mid-speech, gaping with his mouth wide open.

  “You see it? Oh, sir, you see it?” Koren gasped in relief that the light of the full moon still shone through one window, down upon the Cornerstone’s resting place.

  “See what?” The guard asked, stepping into the chamber. “Nothing here but dust, Lord Salva. I think your servant is playing a trick on you.”

  “No,” Paedris said in a harsh whisper, “it is the enemy that has been playing a trick on us, on me. For centuries. And I have been a fool not to see the truth! Koren, how did you know?”

  Koren knelt down and ran a finger along the scrape marks on the floor. “When I realized these marks had been cut with a chisel, sir, I knew the enemy only wanted us to think they had dragged the Cornerstone away. They must have sent the Cornerstone into the shadow realm, like the way Lord Mwazo made that teapot disappear.”

  “Cut by a chisel, hmmm? Cut by a chisel?” Paedris roared with laughter. “Kings and queens have searched for the Cornerstone, but only this boy thought about a common stone-cutting tool! And a teapot!”

  The guard edged back toward the door. The wizard had clearly gone mad. “Begging your pardon, Lord Salva, but are you well?”

  “Yes, yes, man, we are all well tonight! Koren, hold my hand, and concentrate on the Cornerstone. Quickly, before the moonlight is gone!” Holding Koren’s hand in a painfully tight grip, Paedris muttered words in a language Koren didn’t understand, then shouted at the stone and gestured with his staff. There was a blinding flash of light, and there, in front of them, was the Cornerstone, where it had been all along.

  “May I, may I touch it, sir?” Koren asked in awe, after Paedris released his hand. His body felt odd, and tingled all over.

  “Yes, but I think you should attend to our guard first. I’m afraid the poor fellow has fainted.”

  “You do understand, Koren?” Paedris asked, the next morning, when the wizard surprised his loyal servant by waking him up, and bringing him a fresh pot of tea. Koren should have known this did not mean good news.

  “I guess so.” Koren mumbled, st
aring at his shoes. He had gone to bed glowing with excitement from his triumph in the Cornerstone chamber, dreaming of glory. But, after Koren had gone to sleep, Carlana and Paedris had decided that credit for finding the Cornerstone must go to Ariana, not to Koren. Everyone must believe that the crown princess had unraveled the legendary mystery, it would strengthen her hand in the future when dealing with the Dukes. For credit to go to a common servant, when generations of royalty had failed to discover the truth, would make the royal family a laughingstock. And Koren, after all, was nothing but a common-born servant. He didn’t matter. He had saved a princess not once but three times, and found the legendary Cornerstone. What more did he have to do, to be more than a servant boy? Or would nothing he ever did be good enough?

  “You know who really found the Cornerstone, and I do. And Carlana and Ariana both know, Koren. But no one else can know.” The guard who fainted had been sworn to secrecy, and he was anyway not eager to talk about the events of that night. Paedris had agonized over, once again, denying Koren credit for a remarkable accomplishment. For saving Ariana’s life, Koren should have, at the very least, been rewarded with a grant of land. And for finding the Cornerstone, when wizards and kings had failed for countless years? Why, a knighthood would be the barest minimum reward!

  Unfortunately, word that the Cornerstone had been found would soon reach the enemy’s ears. If the enemy heard a story that the crown princess had found the Cornerstone, their assumption would be that the truth was her royal wizard had really been responsible, and the enemy would not inquire further. But if the enemy heard that the royal wizard’s servant had found the Cornerstone, then the enemy would look closely at this unknown servant boy, the same boy, who, according to rumors, had saved the princess from the magic-spelled bear the enemy had sent to kill the girl. It would not take long for the enemy to discover there was something odd, very odd, and interesting, about the wizard’s remarkable servant boy.