“Polnari is beside herself and the rest of the town is none too happy about it either. Staril is well respected here, as was your father. In fact the Tsalks, because of your adventures Arwhon, are probably one of the best known families in Myseline.”
Arwhon sighed. Would he ever lead a normal life and get back to the little farm he loved in The Broken Lands?
“Can we stay in the house, Trader Brandel?”
“I don’t see why not. It is after all the Family home. I’ll shut up here and take you up. I’m so glad you turned up; I was trying to figure out what I could do and was half way through a letter to Cristal nasi Tsalkini when you arrived.”
Arwhon went outside and broke the news to the others as Trader Brandel shut and locked the door to the warehouse before leading them back up the hill. Half way up they were shown to a house with a small stable beside it. It would be tight for the animals but horse, mule and pony got along quite well now. Cringle saw to them as Arwhon and Shiri were led inside by Trader Brandel. He surprised Polnari, who was not expecting anyone and sat by the fire weeping. She leaped up when they entered.
She peered from reddened eyes at Arwhon and Shiri for a moment then asked.
“Why are you both wearing armour?”
Trader Brandel whipped around but he couldn’t see any armour and was about to say something to Polnari when Arwhon signalled Shiri to drop the glamour. Obviously Polnari had a knack for seeing what was. It was Trader Brandel’s turn for surprise when he saw the pair of them weaponed and in full armour apart from their helms.
Arwhon smiled at Polnari.
“Don’t you recognise me Pol. We used to play together sometimes when we were younger.”
“Arwhon! But you look so different. Your eyes are like hers and you’ve grown so.”
Just then Cringle came in carrying saddlebags and introductions were made all around before sleeping accommodations were arranged and saddlebags stowed out of the way. The three travellers gathered by the kitchen fire, listening as Polnari and Brandel sadly explained all that had happened with Staril’s efforts to seek justice from the King. Cringle quietly assisted Polnari as she prepared the evening meal.
Shiri observed Arwhon’s face fill with concern and determination. He resolved to do everything in his power to get Staril back from King Jerome’s unjust arrest and detainment but first he must visit the obelisk on Dome Rock.
It contained his destiny.
8. The Court of King Jerome.
The early morning sun shone wanly through misty clouds as the sounds of Cringle and Polnari preparing breakfast in the kitchen woke Arwhon and Shiri. They arose, rested from their journey, to greet the new day and proceeded downstairs. The pale light streaming into the house through the windows muted any bright colours, everything appearing a little dulled. It was fitting, as all of them felt somewhat somber due to Staril’s unfortunate arrest and detainment. Arwhon could only wonder at what his brother was going through, taken into custody for something which was obviously a trifling matter. Why had the new King, Jerome, troubled himself over such a minor thing as the life savings of their father?
Trader Brandel came into the common room rubbing sleep from his eyes, he had slept on the couch rather than return to the room he rented in a house further up the hill.
“Shall I open up the warehouse this morning, Arwhon?” He asked a little dispiritedly. “Or will you need me for other things today?”
Arwhon looked up from cleaning his Dagger and glanced over at Shiri before replying.
“We have to visit the black obelisk on Dome Rock this morning, Trader Brandel so you might as well open the warehouse. Trade must continue. But when we return I will have you write a letter to King Jerome explaining why you are here in Trugor and what you know of the gold my father left us. You may also include the story of the Draakon Reavers targeting only my father out of the whole of Trugor. Perhaps the King will see his way to finding Staril is innocent and release him.”
Trader Brandel nodded in agreement as he went to help himself to a bowl of porridge from the pot on the stove. Polnari had arisen before them all to start the fire to make breakfast, Cringle joining her to assist as the porridge was put on the stove. Arwhon glanced at her, seeing his childhood friend in a new light. The Polnari he knew was not the woman who had become his sister-in-law, the wife of Staril. He felt sorry for her, relatively newly wed and her husband carted off like a common criminal. She must be feeling as though Fate had conspired against her.
Shiri caught Arwhon studying his sister-in-law, his face reflecting his concern and offered some consolation of her own to Polnari.
“Polnari. After we have done with the obelisk, we intend riding to Encarill to talk with the King. He must have heard of Arwhon’s exploits and may lend a favourable ear to our pleas for Staril’s release.”
Polnari brightened a little and hope flitted across her pretty face.
“Do you think so? Oh, I can’t bear to be parted from Staril. I miss him so, even though he’s been gone such a short time.”
Cringle placed a bowl of porridge in front of Arwhon, Shiri and Polnari before serving Trader Brandel and himself. Even though the three of them were slightly nervous at the thought of what could occur at the obelisk, Master, Shield and Servant still took the time to eat their breakfast. After the dishes were cleared, Arwhon and Shiri donned their armour and Arwhon buckled on his weapons while Cringle readied himself in ways only Cringle knew of. It involved hidden blades and other pieces of apparatus which, thanks to Merdon’s instruction, were now part of his daily life. They left, glamoured by Shiri, just as a swirling westerly breeze picked up and the clouds thickened.
It took a good fifteen minutes to walk downhill along the steep cobbled road through the old town then to follow the street through a newer part of Trugor which was built out onto the peninsular. The buildings ended abruptly in a line well back from the obelisk, not far from where the vegetation became stunted. Tales were told of those who had drawn too close to that black column and suffered in strange ways, so not many dared to approach it or live within its shadow which reached toward Trugor nearly every evening as the sun set behind it in the west.
They followed a faint trail and soon stepped out onto the bald stone of Dome Rock where the tall four-sided obelisk stood, its midnight black sides reaching upward, unmarked by the passage of time. Arwhon stood in front of it, wondering what to do as he studied the ebon surface which bore no mark on any of its sides. As he stood, there was a rush of air through feathers and Krissi landed nearby, watching with great interest. Arwhon knew he was supposed to put the Dagger into a hole in the obelisk to learn the secret of Firemagic but he could find no opening to accept his Dagger in that unrelieved black surface. He turned to Shiri.
“Once again I find a puzzle to be solved. There is no opening but I was told to insert my Dagger in one, like a key in a lock, to read the column. Any ideas?”
Shiri shook her head but Cringle, who had been standing quietly by, gave his opinion.
“Master. Each time there’s a puzzle to be solved, the Ring has opened the way for you. What if you touched the Ring to the column?”
Arwhon felt a fool. Of course. Such a simple thing but he’d not been able to see it. Cringle was right and he should have remembered himself.
“Thank you Servant. I believe you’re right. Now please stand back both of you. Well away from the bare area of rock. None of us knows what will happen next and I want you out of harm’s way in case there is too much Power released when I try the Ring.”
Shiri and Cringle retreated to what they thought was a safe enough distance and once he was sure they were far enough away, Arwhon touched the Ring to the black column. Initially it seemed nothing was occurring then gradually, at first with just a hint of pink then with increasing speed, tiny red writing appeared all over the obelisk. It flickered like burning coals illuminating the entire surface of the column on all four sides. There was a gasp from Cringle and Krissi backed away. Magic may n
ot be able to harm a gryffon but she respected it none the less. Right in front of Arwhon, at chest height, red lines finally appeared converging on a bright spot which gradually opened to form a small red bordered fissure.
Arwhon drew his Dagger and with a last look back at Shiri and Cringle, observing with rapt attention, he inserted the patterned blade into the red slot, slowly sliding it forward to the hilt, embedding the Dagger in the obelisk. The fire lines from around the red cleft crawled over the guard of the Dagger and swirled around Arwhon’s hand holding the handle. He felt the heat as they wrapped around his arm and slid up to his head to encircle the helm he wore. In a matter of moments Arwhon stood wreathed in fire, gripping the handle of the Dagger, as the writing started to flow down the column and travel up over his arm as True Fire, to wrap around his head.
To Arwhon, standing unharmed inside the fire crawling down from the column, it was as though a library was unfolding into his brain. Spell after spell was layered into his thoughts, arranging themselves rank after rank and cross indexing as they were fed into his memory. He stood fixed in wonder as he absorbed vast quantities of information enabling him to use Fire in every imaginable way. Toward the end, as the last of the fiery writing slid down the column leaving bare black stone above, the strongest of the spells from the top of the obelisk were opened up to him and Arwhon began to comprehend that these spells were capable of destroying the whole world.
It came to him then that Durhain’s writing in the cave had warned him that rather than have a world filled with evil, he should destroy it. Even as he accepted that he now possessed the tools for such desperate destruction, the prospect was unthinkable for Arwhon. How could Evil ever multiply beyond all control?
The last of the fiery writing slid off the column and up Arwhon’s arm to circle his head before the light of the flame finally disappeared. As the last light flickered out, the very apex of the column turned to dust and blew away in the strong breeze then, from the top down, the whole column gradually disintegrated and was carried off by the rising wind until Arwhon stood, his Dagger now in thin air, looking at the outline of the square base of the obelisk on Dome Rock. As he watched, the final pieces of the foundation turned to dust and a short, sharp gust of wind took it all away. Of the ink black column which had stood on Dome Rock, unmarked as far back as the written histories or oral traditions could reach, there was no trace. There was only the white rock of the Dome, unmarked and now appearing more like a skull than ever before.
Arwhon turned to his companions; Cringle whey-faced and still, a witness now to magic far beyond his comprehension. Shiri came to him and looked deeply into Arwhon’s eyes, searching to see he remained unchanged as he sheathed his Dagger.
“I thought I knew your Destiny but nothing prepared me for what has just passed. That was quite a stunning display. How do you feel my love?”
“No different from how I felt before except I now have so much knowledge. Every aspect of the use of Fire has been placed at my fingertips. The Q’Herindam will rue the day they introduced evil into the lands of Man. I mean to confront them but first we must visit King Jerome and get Staril back.”
Arwhon took Shiri’s hand in his and together, with Cringle following and Krissi beside him, they made their way back to the family home in Trugor.
They wore no glamour now.
If Arwhon had hoped to get back to Staril’s house relatively quietly, he was sorely mistaken. Already inquisitive folk were being drawn to the vacant site on Dome Rock where the obelisk had been. Since time immemorial the obelisk had stood near Trugor, a guide to shipping, always there and unchanging.
Now it was gone.
Townspeople lined the streets staring silently at Arwhon, Shiri and Cringle as they walked back up the hill toward Staril’s house, closely followed by a legend. A real, live gryffon. It seemed as if the whole town of Trugor had turned out to view their return from Dome Rock. The eerie thing was the silence, a few whisperings here and there but otherwise, nothing. The people of Trugor didn’t yet know how they felt about the obelisk vanishing and they had no idea what to think of Arwhon, a son of the town who had freed the lands from Dominion. All that action had occurred over the other side of Mehgrin’s Wall, not here in Trugor where nothing much had changed.
Until now.
Polnari greeted them at the door, her eyes opening wide when she caught sight of Krissi but after being reassured the gryffon was harmless, she had much to ask and tell Arwhon. The fire had gone out before the obelisk vanished, as had all the fires of their nearest neighbours. At the same time. Arwhon smiled as she told him this and made an offhand gesture. Immediately the cooking fire sprang back to life and burned brightly in the stove. Polnari whipped around with a gasp as it lit.
“It won’t need wood for the rest of the day Polnari. If you want to damp it, just close the flue a little as normal.”
Arwhon thought for a moment then made another gesture. All over Trugor dead fires sprang back to life again, surprising those who had remained inside. Arwhon drew a little Power from deep within the earth to make up for the small amount he’d used, a satisfied smile on his face.
“I have it all now Shiri. All the magic of Fire such as no one has known since Durhain wrote it onto the obelisk. I feel it within me and it’s as natural as breathing. I just need to think and it’s done.”
Shiri gave Arwhon a searching look, scanning his face to see if he was gloating but he wasn’t, he was still the same quiet, self effacing Arwhon she knew and loved but he had discovered confidence. He would not abuse the Firemagic he’d been entrusted with, nor would he use it for his own gain or to willingly harm the innocent. Shiri admonished herself, she should never have doubted Arwhon’s honour.
When Trader Brandel called at midday he was all questions. What had Arwhon done? Where had the obelisk gone? Townsfolk who’d returned from the site said it had just vanished. Completely. Had Arwhon magicked it away? It took some time to calm the Trader, even though he’d worked for Cristal a long time and seen quite a few odd things over the years but nothing to this extent. Eventually, over a mug of cafke, he eventually stilled and listened with Polnari as Arwhon spoke of the deed. He asked them to keep secret his gaining of magical knowledge and suggested they explain to those who asked, that it was time for the obelisk to vanish, heralding a new era of peace. He sincerely hoped it would be so.
Later, as the sun dipped into the ocean to the west and Trader Brandel returned after locking up the warehouse, Arwhon sat down with the Trader and between them they composed a letter for the King. It was Arwhon’s intention to ride out in the morning, journeying to Encarill to seek his brother’s release. Polnari was happier, now that events were underway to free Staril.
As they were riding out of town the next morning, Arwhon looked back over Trugor from the top of the hill. It appeared odd to him, now that the obelisk which had been there his whole life, no longer stood on Dome Rock. It had waited all those millennia for a True empty vessel to pour the knowledge of Durhain into. Arwhon had never suspected it would be him. Nudging Duran with his knee, he rode off south with Shiri and Cringle close behind. They would follow the coast road and should be in Encarill within a tenday or so.
It was an easy journey and they made good time without pushing. Most days they came across a small town or village where they could stay at an inn and on the days when they found themselves away from habitation, they camped out, enjoying the peace. It was then Krissi joined them, otherwise she stayed out of sight. The gryffon had become used to not being obvious when strangers were around. Some days it rained but there was no hardship in the rain, as the Darkwood cloaks they carried with them were more than enough protection from the wet and although autumn was here it still held to the last warmth of summer.
The Western Ocean lay on their right as they travelled south and most days they could see the deep blue of the depths offshore beyond the lighter blue-green of the coastal shallows. Some days it was roughly whitecapped and oth
ers a serene glassy swell. Seeing the ocean everyday reminded Arwhon of the years he had spent fishing on its waters which in turn reminded him of his father. He would never understand why the Draakon Reavers had murdered the man.
They rode through woodlands and coastal heath, sometimes detouring inland with the road which meandered along as if someone had once let a goat go and followed it south. Eight days travel from Trugor, the way turned inland and they followed, leaving the ocean to ride toward the capital, Encarill.
At last, topping a rise on the tenth day out from Trugor, they looked out across a fertile valley and saw a castle on a hill in the centre of the city, surrounded by the hodge podge of taller buildings which were the homes of nobles and also the finer stores and Trading establishments. The further from the castle the buildings were, the smaller they became until on the outskirts of the city, beyond the wall, they were the mere hovels of the poor, a raggedy skirt around Encarill’s walls. The Salween River ran past the city and from their vantage point, Arwhon, Shiri and Cringle could make out the docks with two and three-masted ocean going vessels tied up, unloading cargo.
All appeared peaceful as the three of them rode down toward the city.
“Shiri. I think you can remove the glamour. If we’re to help Staril, we must ride into Encarill with the intent of impressing the new King. He should have heard of our exploits by now and maybe we’ll receive a fair hearing.”
Shiri complied and Arwhon took a moment to strap on his helm as they rode, to look like one of the heroes from legend. At his mental summons, Krissi landed and walked along with them. They were challenged at the gate by some nervous looking guards, who could not take their eyes off Krissi but in response to Arwhon’s name, the guards let them pass with a crisp salute.
Riding into Encarill was an education in itself. Debris cluttered the streets and the residents went about their business with careworn faces. Some paused to appraise Arwhon and Shiri as they rode past, taking in the armour and the weapons and the gryffon. Some looked more closely and saw the M’Herindar eyes, making the hand sign to avert evil when they did. Arwhon was not impressed with Encarill. It was dirty and unkempt and for a capital city it showed an unusual lack of care. Compared to Belvedere, this place was a filthy, dirty and smelly dump. He wondered about King Jerome and what the King thought when he rode out amongst it all.
The Q'Herindam Page 16