“And without something of his, imbued with his
Drienne looked to Alamar, and the elder sighed and nodded in confirmation.
Drienne leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. After a moment she said, “I will call all Mages together and propose that we form a Great Conjoinment and try to locate him, try to determine what is happening, try to stop it.”
“Conjoinment?” blurted Aylis, glancing at her father then back to Drienne. “But that will drain—”
“I know, child,” responded Drienne. And she fixed a steely gaze on Alamar. “All Mages must join…but not you, Alamar, your fire is nearly gone. You must go back to Vadaria. If we do not survive, avenge us.”
Alamar puffed up to make a reply, but Drienne cut him off. “As Regent of the Academy it shall be as I say, and I will brook no disobedience.”
Alamar muttered, “See what happens when you give a sorceress a little authority?”
“Sorceress!” gasped Jinnarin. “Oh my!”
With an eyebrow raised, Drienne looked up at the shadow lurking behind Jatu’s shoulder. “She heard the tale of the Grey Lady,” rumbled the black Man. Drienne grimaced, then nodded.
By mid afternoon, all Mages as well as the comrades had made their way to a walled garden on the western end of the river island. As they had come down toward the white stone wall, Jinnarin could see the River Kairn flowing on to the west, where it passed under a pontoon bridge and coursed onward to plunge beyond sight over the linn and down the sheer drop of the Kairn Falls to thunder into the Weston Ocean. The garden itself was guarded by two Mages standing at the one gate, for here was the only known crossing to Vadaria, and they warded it well.
Jinnarin’s heart thudded in her breast as she looked to the northwest, where a crescent Moon was just then setting, a Moon that would wane day by day as it edged toward the Sun, preparing to kiss the golden orb in but five days and some. Jinnarin tore her gaze from the pale arc as Jatu stepped through the garden gate, the warders nodding to Drienne as she passed the comrades through.
Within the white stone walls stood a grove of silver birch, the trees but arm’s lengths apart from one another and filling the whole of a natural amphitheater whose nadir stood in grove center. A green sward covered the ground, except for moss-banked rivulets which sprang from the earth and ran down to the heart of the tiny vale, where lay a crystalline mere, white hyacinths floating within. There seemed to be no outlet, yet the waters did not rise, and Jinnarin assumed that they seeped away underground.
And into this garden, into this grove, into this amphitheater streamed the Mages, while now and again the land did quake, the leaves on the birches shivering and rustling in the tremors. They all took seats where they could see among the boles of the trees and down to the mere where now stood Drienne. Seated among the trees as well were the comrades, Jinnarin and Farrix yet shadow-wrapped. At last the gates were closed and a hush fell upon the throng. When all was silent, Drienne called upon Alamar to speak.
The eld Mage shuffled down through the grove and to her side, while all other Mages looked on and whispered among themselves, some shaking their heads at his age-worn state: Can this be Alamar? Surely not. He is so—so old! What happened to him?…
As a tremor ran through the island, Alamar gestured about at the shaking grove and in a thready voice said, “This is the doings of Durlok, the Black Mage.” A mutter of disbelief whispered throughout, but Alamar raised his voice above it. “He seeks to destroy us all, or so I deem.
“We came across him on an island in the middle of the Great Swirl, a place where none would think to look. And in a crystal cavern on that island he worships Gyphon, and there I discovered that Durlok has the means to bridge the In-Between and converse with Him.”
A collective gasp greeted this news, and one Mage, a healer named Rithia, called out, “But Adon forbids—”
Alamar quavered, “Do you think that would stop either Gyphon or a Black Mage?”
“What were you doing on this island in the Great Swirl?” called out a voice.
“None of your business,” snapped back the elder.
“Then how do we know this is true?” called someone else.
“Because I say so, you idiot!” shouted Alamar, his face turning red.
“Well, if you don’t tell us what you were doing, well then, why should we believe you?”
Alamar could do nought but wheeze.
“He was rescuing me!” piped up a voice, and a tiny cluster of shadow struggled out of Aravan’s hood and dropped to the ground and ran down to stand at Alamar’s side. Of a sudden the shadow vanished, and Farrix stood revealed.
A murmur of wonder rippled through the gathering: Aha! A Fox Rider! One of the Hidden Ones!…
“What Alamar says is true,” called Farrix. “I know, for I was Durlok’s captive until Alamar and other comrades came to save me.” Farrix held out his hand, and down among the silver birches came Jinnarin, her shadow-wrap gone. And stepping in her wake came Aylis and Aravan and Bokar and Jatu.
The debate in the Mage Grove lasted for most of the afternoon, but in the end the Mages decided to band together to stop Durlok, Regent Drienne to be the focus and the wielder of the Great Conjoinment.
“What is this—this conjoinment?” Jinnarin whispered to Aylis.
“It is when one or more Mages yield their
Aravan looked into Aylis’s eyes. “It is…dangerous, chieran?”
“At times, for
“Hold on, now,” muttered Farrix. “Isn’t that the same as Durlok stealing the astral fire from his victims? What did Alamar call it? Oh wait, I remember—he said it was like a bloodsucking lamia draining life.”
As if to stave off an accusation, Aylis held out a hand, palm facing the Pysk. “In some ways, Farrix, it is like a lamia. But heed: in a Great Conjoinment, all freely volunteer to yield their
“But, Aylis, won’t you age?” asked Jinnarin. “I mean, spending your astral fire means losing your youth, and whether it is in a casting of your own or lending it to another, well it seems to me that the effect on you will be the same.”
Aylis nodded. “Yes, I will age. But remember, I can regain my youth.”
Aravan took Aylis’s hand. “Chieran, thou hast not said how a conjoinment can be a danger to thee.”
Aylis sighed. “During my schooling there came a time when we practiced a conjoinment. It was then we were warned that a wielder can draw too much
Dusk descended across Rwn, and the Great Conjoinment began, Mages sitting on the sward running down to the crystal mere. Jinnarin, Farrix, Aravan, Jatu, and Bokar sat among the silver birches of the Mage Grove and watched as Mage after Mage in sequence murmured a word—“Coniunge”—and then sat in silence thereafter. Down in grove center by the flower-laden waters sat Drienne in a high-backed crimson chair, one which had been brought in for the occasion. Drienne’s eyes were closed, and Jinnarin beheld a pale jade nimbus glowing about the raven-haired sorceress. Farrix, too, noted the astral glow, though none of the other comrades could see it.
As the twilight disappeared, night fell and a panoply of brilliant stars wheeled into view above. And still the island of Rwn juddered and jolted as tremors racked the land.
It was just before mid of night when Aylis came to Aravan. Her light brown hair was now lightly threaded with silver, and a tracery of fine lines clustered ‘round her eyes. She was weary, drawn, dejected…she was older. She to
ok Aravan’s hand in hers and gently stroked it then held it to her cheek, and her pale green eyes gazed into his of dark sapphire. “There is great
Aravan kissed her fingers. “Thou hast only to name it, chieran.”
“You must sail the Eroean to Darda Glain and evacuate the Hidden Ones.”
Aravan’s eyes widened. “But I would not leave thee,” he protested.
“Love, you must go. No other ship is swift enough to get there in the little time we have left.”
“Dost thou know how much time remains?”
Tiredly, Aylis ran a hand through her silver-shot tresses. “If Durlok keeps his vow, perhaps we have five days and a bit—not quite six.”
“Then come with me, chieran.”
“I cannot. I am needed here.”
Aravan looked long into her eyes. Above, the silent stars shown down upon the heartrent lovers. At last Aravan took her in his arms and gently kissed her. And he whispered, “I will come back for thee.”
Tears slid down Aylis’s cheeks as Aravan turned and strode to where the others waited. After a few words, Jinnarin came running to Aylis. “We will return, sister of mine.” Then the Pysk ran to Jatu, and the big black Man lifted her into his cast-back cloak hood. All waved to Aylis, and she to them, then they turned on their heels and strode toward the garden gate.
And the world trembled once more.
As the comrades came down to the docks, they noted a small number of frightened Men and Women sitting on the quay, waiting to set sail. These passengers knew not what danger threatened; they only sensed that something dire was afoot. And the trembling isle to them seemed disastrously unsafe, whereas a ship could weather any storm—or so they thought. And so they sat quietly and waited to board the given ships upon which they had purchased passage.
And as Aravan and company strode across the quay, another tremor juddered the land. Sensing their parents’ alarm, children clutched fathers and mothers and wept in fear.
Aravan with Farrix, Jatu with Jinnarin, and Bokar finally came to where the Eroean was docked. They found the gangway hauled aboard and the warband standing guard along the railing. As they approached, Kelek called out and the ladder was lowered. A Man bearing a sleeping child stepped before Aravan. “Are you setting sail now? If so, I would book passage, though I have no money. I am a good worker.”
Aravan looked into his pleading eyes. “Nay, we but go to another part of Rwn. If thou and thy daughter would set sail away from this isle, here is enough to pay thy way.” Aravan took a small pouch from his cloak, coins clinking within, and pressed it into the Man’s hand. Aravan turned and pointed. “That ship yon is even now loading.”
“Oh sir, I don’t know—”
Aravan held out a hand to stop the Man’s words. “Repay me by doing well unto others.” He glanced at the far-docked schooner. “Go now; thou must hurry.”
As the Man hastened away, the child awakened. “Oh, Father, a little person.” she called out, but he did not turn to see.
Aravan looked at his comrades. “If we take strangers to Darda Glain, we will never get the Hidden Ones aboard. Yet how can I refuse them?”
“Captain,” rumbled Jatu. “Our first loyalty is to the Hidden Ones. If we have room after they board, then perhaps we will discover a way to take on others as well.”
Aravan gave a sharp nod, agreeing, then said. “Let us away.”
As the comrades boarded the Eroean, again the island quaked.
Running against the morning tide, the Elvenship sailed away from Kairn, with her silks unfurled full. Due south she ran, bells ringing in her wake, the wind on the starboard beam, and now and again the ship would shake in the juddering of the sea. As dawn began to pale the skies, Aravan stood on deck with Jinnarin and Farrix. He pointed to the heavens where rode a quarter Moon above. “Ye can see four of the five wanderers: the red one nigh the zenith, ‘tis named Reier by the Lian, Red Warrior in Common; next to the Moon is Veorht Iian, Bright Voyager; ‘tween the Moon and the eastern horizon lies Cianin Andelé, Shining Nomad; and below, down on the rim of the world is Wifan Aun, Swift One. The fifth wanderer, Rul Pex, Slow Foot, will not rise until shortly after the Sun, hence cannot be seen until the coming of the eventide when the Sun has set, and then for but a brief while.”
Farrix pointed a finger at the sky and counted off, “In the order you named each wanderer, we instead call them Red Vixen, Snow Bear, Bright Lady, Sun Rider, and Traveller.”
Jinnarin looked at them all, running from high above in what seemed to be a line down to the eastern horizon. Then her eye swept back to the crescent quarter Moon, and a cold shiver ran over her frame. His arm about her, Farrix looked at Jinnarin and asked, “What is it, love?”
Jinnarin sighed. “That such splendor could be twisted for evil…it speaks of a vile mind.”
“I know,” replied Farrix softly, and together they stood on deck and watched the dawn brighten until at last the Suñ rose. And when it was full above the horizon and day was on the deeps, no longer could the wanderers be seen, though the waning Moon yet rode the sky above, the silver crescent steadily edging toward the Sun.
Due south they ran until early morn, the wind on the starboard, Rwn on the larboard, until at last they rounded a broad peninsula outthrust well into the sea, where they swung east-southeast. And with a following wind blowing on the starboard aft, they headed for the great outjut of land on which lay Darda Glain. Aravan was heading for a long bight of sea that reached deep into the ancient forest, falling short of the center by only ten miles. Both Farrix and Jinnarin had assured him that ships could sail into the firth without fear of attack, just as long as they did not put ashore. They would, however, be well watched, for eyes of the Hidden Ones would be upon them from the moment they entered the bay.
It was high noon when they sailed past the mouth of the long inlet, and the ship swung to the east-northeast to follow the bight inward. Aravan had all hands piped on deck. “I would have the Hidden Ones see ye so that they will know who comes calling. Leave thy armor and weapons below so they will know we come not in War.”
Bokar arranged the Châkka so that half stood along the starboard rail and half on the one to the larboard. Somehow without their crossbows and axes and warhammers and shields and without their armor and flaring steel helms, they looked like nothing more than crafters and merchants…or so Jinnarin surmised. And on the part of the Men, Jatu placed his unarmed sailors up the ratlines and along the yards in the crow’s nests as well, so that they bedecked the ship as if it were on parade. And down the center of the fifteen mile long firth they sailed, the Eroean running at eight knots, her cerulean silks belling in the aft quartering wind, while the silent forest watched to left and right no more than a mile either way.
The Sun had progressed one third part down from the zenith when the Eroean at last came to the wide root of the firth, where she dropped anchor.
“Stand by to lower a single gig,” called Aravan.
The Elf looked down at the Pysks and fox. “Ready?”
They nodded, Jinnarin adding, “And eager, too!”
Bokar turned to Aravan and gritted, “Captain, I mis-like this idea of you going ashore alone. Darda Glain is closed to outsiders. What if you are attacked by the Hidden Ones? Little good will my warriors be with you there and we here.”
“He’s not going alone, Bokar,” said Farrix, waving a hand toward Jinnarin and Rux. “We will be with him.”
“And as to attacks,” put in Jinnarin, somewhat miffed, “he wears his stone and all will know him as a Friend. We’re not bloodthirsty savages, you know. Besides, I thought we discussed this and you were in agreement.”
Bokar growled, but said no more.
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nbsp; “Ready with the gig, Cap’n!” called Slane.
Elf, Pysks, and fox stepped across the deck, where Jinnarin was lifted into the boat by Jatu, Farrix after, and Rux leapt in at Jinnarin’s command. Aravan stepped aboard, and the gig was swung out on the davits. “Lower away,” rumbled Jatu.
Even as the keel of the gig scraped sand, the island shook with a tremor, the leaves of nearby forest trees rustling as if in protest. Jinnarin said, “We will be back as soon as we can, Aravan. There’s much ground to cover, and many to warn. I am just hoping that most will respond, for I think something…dreadful…lies but five days away.”
Aravan glanced at the Sun. “‘Tis early afternoon of the seventh. Try to be back by sundown of the tenth, bringing all with you who will come. I would be at sea early morn of the eleventh to make a run back to Kairn.”
Jinnarin and Farrix canted their heads in agreement. Then they both mounted Rux, Farrix behind his mate, and at a command from Jinnarin the fox leapt over the side and darted across the shingle of sand and into the dark forest beyond.
“Fare ye well,” called Aravan after, but he doubted the Pysks had heard.
And the island shivered again.
Gradually the time eked toward the tenth, when the Hidden Ones were due on board, for Aravan hoped to set sail the day after—on August eleventh. And as time crawled by, the waning crescent Moon, now fingernail thin, crept closer to the Sun, while at the same time the tremors worsened. Aravan and the crew entire paced the deck of the Eroean and fretted, for they’d had no word from the Hidden Ones and neither Jinnarin nor Farrix had returned. And gradually the breeze blowing up the firth dwindled, dwindled, diminished, until on the tenth of August at mid of day the wind died altogether and nought but a hot summer stillness lay over the forest and across the bight. And the Moon would kiss the Sun in but a two-day.
Night fell and still no word arrived. Yet as the midnight hour drew down upon the Eroean, a knock sounded on Aravan’s door, and when the Elf opened it, Geff stood there. “Cap’n, they’s a small signal fire blazin’ on the shingle ashore.”
Voyage of the Fox Rider Page 54