Chosen (Majaos Book 1)

by Gary Stringer

  With a yawn and a stretch, Eilidh did something that she hadn't indulged in since she was little: she played with the flow of magic to create the image of a glowing, multi-coloured bunny rabbit tucked up in bed with her. She smiled at the rabbit and whispered `goodnight` before drifting off to sleep.

  * * * * *

  Morning came and Eilidh remembered that she and the others had been invited to breakfast with the prince. Only Kismet had declined the invitation saying, “I'm afraid I should be bored stiff, ju st like the Baron Darovich was once, halfway through one of the Emperor's five day `State of the Empire` speeches. Stiff as a board he went; I had to soak him in a vat of wine to limber him up.”

  “What could possibly make a man go like that?” Toli asked. Eilidh predicted that her hobbit friend was going to regret the question.

  “Turns out he'd died less than a day into the speech,” Kismet explained. “He turned up, sat down and then,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that.”

  “And nobody noticed?” Lady Hannah rose to the bait further, obliging Kismet with the scandalised reaction he seemed to be hoping for. Kismet shrugged. “The bloke never said much anyway and when he sat, he used to hold himself so rigid. So you see, he didn't seem all that different with rigor mortis. I always told him his bad posture would kill him one day. I was wrong. He was bored stiff. “

  “But what about the smell?” “Yes, true, now you come to mention it, he did smell a little less bad than usual. Do you think that should have toldme something?”

  At that point, Garald had taken him away, sparing them from having to listen to any more. Eilidh smiled at the memory as she arose, ready to begin her day, washing and dressing in clean robes provided by palace staff. The fresh clothes felt good and smelled good, too. She breathed deeply of the scent of rose petals. She briefly wondered how the staff had known that was her favourite way to launder her robes. Just a good guess, she supposed, or maybe they were so good at their jobs that they could anticipate the needs of guests even before the guests themselves had thought of them. She applauded such professionalism and quietly envied their quiet, fulfilled lives. Nobody would send the palace servants on some quest for which they were wholly unsuitable.

  After saying her morning devotions to Natus - or as she preferred to think of them, meditations to clear the mind - Eilidh went to round up the others. Toli had already gone to find breakfast - the Catalyst wasn't surprised at that. By the time Eilidh and the others joined her, the hobbit would probably have had seconds and be starting on thirds. Phaer's quarters were the next closest, so Eilidh knocked on his door next. The staff had anticipated his preference for black leather for a more formal look, considering he was in royal company. His hair was swept back in a freshly done ponytail and his boots were well polished. The half-elf ranger left his new bow and arrows in his quarters, but wore his polished sword in a kind of ceremonial way.

  Lady Hannah provided the surprise that morning. Both companions expected to see her kitted out in full shining golden plate armour. Neither of them was prepared for the vision of femininity that answered the door in a sparkling white satin dress and gold high-heeled shoes. Her hair seemed to have extra body to it, the way it was brushed so it gleamed and she accessorised her outfit with a gold necklace and a pair of simple gold bracelets over long white gloves. Her sapphire eyes were shining, but their ferocity had been replaced with a gentle confidence. Eilidh noticed Phaer's eyes, too, take on a new look. In his own subtle, understated elven manner, he was quite taken with the sight.

  “Good morning,” Eilidh offered, covering for the half-elf, who appeared to be having some difficulty finding his voice. “I see you've made the most of Prince Garald's hospitality.” “Good morning, Eilidh, and to thee, noble Phaer. Apparently, this gown doth belong to that part of palace wardrobe that is set-aside for VIP guests. 'Tis truly a great honour to be considered thus.”

  Taking a step closer, Phaer extended his arm and asked in his most formal tone, “My Lady, will you allow me the honour of escorting you to breakfast?” Hannah rewarded him with a dazzling smile. “Why tha nk you, noble sir. I perceive that thou art a gentleman and I wouldst surely, methinks, be most pleased to grant my full acceptance of thy courtly offer.”

  “That means `yes`,” Eilidh whispered to Phaer, who was looking slightly bewildered by Hannah's archaic speech.

  So Hannah closed her door, rested her small but deceptively strong right hand on Phaer's left arm.

  Eilidh followed a short distance behind, alone again, as usual. Some things in life, she reflected, did not change, adventure or no.

  Chapter 6

  Back in Avidon, Loric the obsidian dragon, was resting in human form, with his back up against the large oak-framed headboard. He breathed deeply thinking about that funny human with the multi-coloured clothes. He'd never seen a human change shape before, he thought only dragons could do that. Then he began to feel something else, that pain again. It had been only a day since his battle and he could still feel a strange, burning sensation. The memory of those fire rings, perhaps. Dismissing the idea, his thoughts returned to the group of companions that the prince had now befriended. Loric was glad that things had turned out so well, after he had got them into such serious trouble that they didn't deserve. He had come to accept that that human girl with the Life magic was right. There had been strange magic in that glade that affected him. Sure, he’d been injured, in pain, and not so much scared by the centaur attack as angry with himself for falling into such an obvious trap. It was also true that Loric had a tendency to spit acid first and ask questions later, but it felt like there was more to it this time.

  Maybe I should go and watch over them and see if they get in to any more battles , he considered. Never know when they might need a helping dragon's claw. Such an interesting looking group. I wonder what they were doing out there in Shakaran's Borderlands.

  He thought more about this as he dressed and headed downstairs. Then he smelled something different in the air - dragon slayers. They must be here to look in on that black dragon that they've heard lives in this area , he realised. Stupid mortals. Why do they kill things they don't understand? No matter how many slayers he killed, there were always more. Frankly, he was tired of it. Those young people I met yesterday didn't seem that way, he thought.

  Sure, the Lady Knight and the others had attacked him, but only in defence of another. He wasn't going to hold that against them. He smiled as he remembered the Catalyst's remark. `I said it was madness to get involved from the start`. Loric liked that in a mortal - a kind of courage that was tempered with common sense. Someone who could instantly assess a situation and know she was out of her depth. Yet at the same time, when she was forced to act, she stayed calm and did her job. Yes, Loric liked that.They’ve got to be better company than I get around here and I could use a break from this place.

  Maybe that’s what that burning sensation was: curiosity. It happened from time to time. The life of a dragon was so immeasurably long that they were immortal, to all intents and purposes. They could die in battle, or accidents or natural disasters, but the concept of old age was alien to them, although there were tales of ancient dragons who had simply died from boredom, when they felt there was nothing new to see, do, or experience. That was a dragon’s greatest enemy: lethargy. If one was immortal, what did it matter if one took a day off, or a year, or a century, or a thousand centuries? What was time to a dragon? To combat this, Loric had made a point of following wherever his curiosity led. After all, curiosity may kill a cat, but who ever heard of it killing a dragon?

  Decision made, he said quietly, “Sorry, dragon slayers, I can't oblige you today. I have so me new friends to check up on.” With that, he shifted to his dragon form and took to the sky, heading south, back to Shakaran.

  * * * * * A little while after breakfast, the party split up in an attempt to expand their numbers and, if truth be told, to do some sightseeing.

  “After all,” Eilidh said to Toli,
“if we're going to be putting ourselves on the line in this quest, we can at least get something positive out of it by making the most of the travel opportunities.” Shakaran was truly the industrial capital of Mythallen, as Merlyon was the magical capital. It was a tough, rough and rugged city, where Merlyon possessed an elegant beauty. Soldiers were constantly milling about the streets, guarding the populace who were simply going about their business, the war be damned. War and battle was a part of life to the people of Shakaran. They had confidence in their city guard and, failing that, whatever sharp or heavy blunt implement might come to hand, should they have to defend themselves. Indeed, the Shakaran populace were impressive in the way they were so unfazed. Eilidh could well imagine the contrasting state of sheer panic in Merlyon if the magical shield should fail as per Gamaliel's dire prediction.

  It was unanimously agreed that before they went any further, they really needed a healer in their party. Lady Hannah was keen to visit the Temple of Light anyway, to sanctify herself before Patrelaux, ready for the coming battles. Phaer was not given to the worship of the Father of Light, but did not seem to want to leave Hannah's side. Besides, while the Knight was clearly capable of taking care of herself, she was more vulnerable than she was used to in her dress.

  “Escorting the lady just seems like the gentlemanly thing to do,” Phaer explained with a crooked smile.

  Earlier, Hannah had confided to Eilidh that she’d hidden a long, sharp dagger up her skirt just in case her `gentleman friend` became a little less gentlemanly and a little too friendly.

  Eilidh and Toli left them to it, heading instead for the Guild of the Nine Secrets for additional magical expertise. Toli chatted continuously, giving critical approval to her second breakfast.

  “I thought you'd had three breakfasts,” Eilidh said.

  “Whatever gave you that idea? Nobody has a third breakfast. One has to leave room for elevenses.”

  “But when I came down from my room, you were just finishing your seconds and then you had another.” Toli looked puzzled for a moment, but then her face brightened. “Oh no,” she giggled, “I see where you're getting confused. When you came down this morning, I was having a third helping, but that was still only first breakfast. Second breakfast is a whole separate meal to a hobbit. I only had two helpings for that one while youwere talking to Prince Garald.”

  Eilidh hid a smile. “Only two?”

  “That's right. It was hard to resist a third, but I wanted to keep it light.”

  “I see,” was all Eilidh trusted herself to say. She really did not want to laugh at her dear friend. `Dear friend`. Eilidh pondered those words as they came to her. Did she really consider Tolbrietta a `dear friend`? It was hard to say, since Eilidh had no frame of reference to pull from. In her whole life she couldn't remember having anyone she would have truly called any kind of friend. Acquaintances, she supposed, and people she held in a certain regard, but friends were something else. Eilidh realised she had no clear idea, in any definable way, what precisely constituted a `dear friend` but on some instinctive level, she believed Toli was just that.

  Maybe I should say something.

  “Toli, I-” she began, and then changed her mind. “I wonder what's happened to Kismet this morning.” Toli shrugged and giggled. “How do you know he's not here? For all we know he co uld be hiding in my backpack. Hey, he could be my backpack. He could probably even be one of the gold coins you've got in your purse!

  Eilidh laughed, “I hope not – I’d hate to short change anybody.”

  Toli agreed, “I’m not sure a Kismet is legal currency in Shakaran!” As they got close to the Guild, they were surprised to hear music. A deep, baritone voice rang out, almost knocking them back a step with the sheer power, like a great galeforce wind. They stepped inside where their attention was immediately drawn to a dwarf standing on a table in the middle of the hall, holding the entire audience in the palm of his hand with the same ease as he held the harp he was playing. The two companions sat down quietly - even Toli seemed suddenly speechless.

  When the song ended, they both got to their feet to applaud. The dwarven bard was dressed in full scale armour, helm, gauntlets and armoured boots, armed with a battle axe. The axe was the traditional dwarf weapon of choice and Eilidh was certain he knew well how to use it. What really astonished her, though, was the white cloak and black wristbands he was wearing, identifying him as a dark aligned Catalyst. His allegiance to the black wasn't an issue to either Eilidh or Toli, but the idea of a Bard-Catalyst made their jaws drop in wonder.

  “What an absolutely fascinating individual,” Toli remarked.

  “Mmmm,” her friend agreed, “but we're not here for entertainment, we're here to do a job.”

  “Sometimes you're just no fun at all,” complained the hobbit, good naturedly. “One of us has to be practical!” Eilidh snapped and got up to ask around before everybody disappeared now that the song was over. Toli's comment had hurt her. It was irrational, she knew. Her hobbit friend was only teasing, but the Catalyst discovered that this new experience of `dear friendship` led to a certain oversensitivity. And social skills weren’t exactly her forte.

  The pair split up, asking around for any mages who might consider themselves the adventurous type, but they didn't meet with much success. Not until the dwarf spoke up from his position, leaning in a corner, feet up on a table, absently carving a block of wood into the shape of a rabbit, having finished his impromptu concert. “So yer lookin' fer adventure, are ye?”

  “Well I wasn't looking for it, no,” Eilidh replied, “but I found it all the same, or rather it found me, I think.”

  The dwarf laughed, “But those are the best kind, lass! Listen, you might not need a second Catalyst, but would you be interested in the magic of music?”

  “Sir, I am really in no position to turn anyone down, even if I wanted to.”

  The dwarf laughed again, “I like you, lassie. Yer funny.”

  “If I accepted you into my party, what would you want to get out of it?” “Och well now, we'd just have to see wouldn't we?” He winked. “That's the thing with adventure, ye can never tell what ye might find. Tell yer what: if I see anythin' I like and it's not directly important to yer quest, I get first pick. Deal?”

  Toli gave a nod in answer to Eilidh's questioning raised eyebrow. Eilidh wished the others were there but since they weren't she would just have to make a decision for them as leader. She didn't think there was much danger that the things that would interest a dwarf Catalyst and bard would mean much to a half-elf ranger or a Knight of Paladinia, so there didn't seem to be any reason to refuse.

  The dwarf got up, stomped over to Eilidh and Toli, shaking their hands vigorously and pounding them on the back. “Granite Longbeard at yer service,” he said with a formal bow from his round waist.

  “Good to have you with us, Mr Longbeard.” Toli spoke up.

  “Och, just Granite will do, my wee hobbit friend. No need to stand on ceremony with me, lass.” “Great, Granite it is, then. I'm Toli and this is my friend Eilid h. Say, would you sing for us again? I really loved your music, we both did. It would wonderful to hear you again. Then maybe sometime, if we get the chance, we could have an eating contest.” She giggled. “I've got a bit of family honour to restore with that one, if you'll care to listen to the story, which,” another giggle “must be a change for a bard, cause you're always telling them. But I guess somebody has to tell them to you first, don't they? Hey, maybe you could compose a song to go with my story. I don't object to a bit of artistic license, either. Anyway my story goes like this: you see, my Dad...”

  Before the hobbit could launch into her tale, Phaer burst into the guild, Hannah a half-step behind and a young elf maid in cleric's white robes with them. “Eilidh, Toli!” Phaer began, the paused as he saw the dwarf. “Is he with you?”

  “Yes,” Eilidh confirmed. “Phaer, this is-”

  “Introductions shall have to wait,” Hannah said. “Sorry, but we must
needs make to returneth with all haste unto the castle forthwith!”

  “Something terrible has happened and the prince needs us right away,” Phaer added. Without another word, the group now numbering six, ran all the way to the castle gates, where the guards stepped aside, telling them to go straight in.* * * * * Upon reaching Shakaran City, Loric decided that he should return to his human form, so as not to draw any unwanted attention towards himself. When he landed, he could see the group of mortals that he had seen only the day before, running towards the castle. Then another strange thing happened. Without thinking about what he was doing, he suddenly sprouted wings. He was still in his human form, but with his much scaled down dragon wings. For some time, he had been trying to find a way to access some of his dragon abilities while in human form. He wondered if this new experience could be the beginning of something he had been seeking for some time. That would have to wait until later, though. Right now he had other interests. There was no rush. He had yet to hear back from his scouts and besides, what was time to a dragon?

  Being careful to remain unnoticed, his dark clothing helping him to hide among the smoke from industrial furnaces, he took off after the young group. He could not enter the palace itself, but from his lofty vantage point, he should be able to see them come out.