The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow

by Jason McWhirter

  “I have not heard of such magic before. Are there spells with de power the king speaks of?” Durgen asked, addressing the court wizards.

  “I have never heard of a spell with such power,” Addalis said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “It is not a spell. It is the Shan Cemar,” Alerion announced. Only a few in audience were privy to the fact that Malbeck now had possession of the Shan Cemar. So Alerion told the story of what he knew about the ancient book. That it had been found by one of Malbeck’s followers and that it was the magic of the book that had brought Malbeck back from the swirling mists of the Ru’Ach.

  “I cannot believe the book is actually real,” Addalis whispered softly. As all wizards, he had heard tales of the book throughout his entire life. But he believed they were just that, tales told by those wizards who hoped to access the power of the Shan Cemar.

  “Can we defeat such power?” Kromm asked.

  Everyone was silent as they digested his words. Could they fight it? That was the question on everyone’s minds. Would they simply be fighting a losing battle? What did they have in their arsenal that could withstand the power of the Shan Cemar?

  “What about Jonas? Could the power of the cavalier counter the magic of the Shan Cemar?” King Kromm asked.

  “Jonas is lost to us,” Kiln said softly for the first time. All eyes swung to the commander and it was obvious that he had not gotten much sleep. Jonas’s wounds had taken a toll on the commander. He was used to solving problems, to fixing things with his mind, or his sword. But he could do nothing for his friend, and that frustration weighed on Kiln’s soul. “We have not found a way to counter Dykreel’s poison. So, as of now, we will have to fight this magic without Jonas.”

  No one said anything, not even Manlin, as no one knew how to heal Jonas. The room was deathly silent for a few moments. Finally Alerion spoke up. “There may be a way to stand against Malbeck and the power of the book. As some of us know, the source that provided me with this knowledge also gave me a riddle, a clue as how to stop the magic of the book and Malbeck himself.”

  “Please inform our guests of this riddle, Alerion,” King Gavinsteal ordered.

  “I was told that Malbeck could be stopped by an Ishmian with the blood of Finarth in his veins.”

  No one said anything as they pondered his words.

  “An Ishmian? We dwarves have no such gifts. Does anyone here know of an Ishmian with such power?” Ballick asked. Dwarves were well known for their tough heads and strong constitutions, which gave them certain defenses against charms, fear, and other mental spells. But despite that, there is no record of any dwarf ever being a cognivant, someone gifted with the powers of the mind. Cognivants were extremely rare in all races, but as far as anyone knew, nonexistent in dwarves.

  There were a series of glances around the table as those that knew of Jonas’s ability looked knowingly at one another.

  “Jonas has such gifts,” Kiln said. “He is an Ishmian, but I do not see how he could be the cognivant from the riddle. He has no Finarthian blood in him.”

  King Gavinsteal glanced unnoticed at Alerion. Alerion had information and the King was silently telling him that now was the time to divulge what he knew.

  “Commander, Jonas is an Ishmian, but he is not the one spoken of in the riddle,” Alerion announced.

  “What have you found?” Allindrian asked, speaking up for the first time.

  “I have spent the last two weeks researching this riddle. I found hidden away in ancient scrolls some early writings from King Ullis Gavinsteal, the very same man who defeated Malbeck during the great wars.” Many eyes glanced up to the huge painting behind the royal dais and the Finarthian throne. The painting covered the entire wall, depicting in detail the scene of King Ullis Gavinsteal slaying Malbeck on the Shadow Plains over a thousand winters ago. “In his youth he had an intimate relationship with the daughter of an ambassador from Mynos.”

  “How old was he?” asked General Gandarin.

  “He was seventeen…before he was crowned king. They had a child together that was kept secret. In fact, the king himself never even knew that she bore his child,” Alerion continued.

  “So there was a royal bloodline that no one knew about,” King Kromm said thoughtfully.

  “It would seem so,” King Gavinsteal replied.

  “Do we know this definitely?” Addalis asked.

  “We do. I called the spirit of Larrea, the young woman in question, back from the Ru’Ach. She confirmed her child’s birth,” Alerion said.

  Addalis was impressed. Conjuring people back from the dead took very subtle and precise magic. It was not a simple task. “What else did you find out about her?” he asked.

  “The child was sent far away from Mynos to keep her existence secret,” Alerion continued as everyone hung on his every word.

  “Where to?” Allindrian asked.

  “She was sent to Tarsis.”

  Everyone was silent as they took in his last words. All eyes drifted back to King Kromm, the queen, and the young prince. King Kromm slowly sat back in his chair.

  “Are you telling me, Alerion, that there is Finarthian royal blood mixed within the Tarsinian royal family?” Kromm asked incredulously.

  “Not exactly,” Alerion continued, “The young child, Tamralyn was her name, was sent to the ambassador’s cousin who was married to one of the Tarsinian princes. I was told that when she was old enough that she married a commoner. ”

  “It is my family that you speak of…right Addalis?” Queen Sorana spoke softly, her eyes staring at nothing as she thought back to her family lineage. When Kromm had married Sorana many people were upset. She was a simple commoner, and it was believed that it would weaken the Tarsinian royal bloodline. But Kromm did not care, he fell in love the moment he met her. The queen turned to look at the wizard. “It is my family that carried this blood, and it was I who transferred it to my son.”

  Everyone looked shocked, including King Kromm.

  “That is my assessment, Queen Sorana,” Addalis replied with a nod of his head.

  “That cannot be!” Kromm roared. His outburst was not out of anger, but fright for his son. His son…his son could not be the person to whom the riddle referred, because that would mean that he would have to battle Malbeck. Then he saw hope and he grabbed at is desperately. “But he is not an Ishmian, it could not be him. Are you sure that the lost Finarthian blood line did not get mixed with my family line?”

  “Lord Kromm, I thought at first that it must be so…that it must be you. You are a battle king, and rightly it would be you who fought Malbeck. But you are not an Ishmian, isn’t that so?” Addalis asked.

  “I am not,” King Kromm replied slowly. “But neither is my son.”

  “Lord Kromm, may I speak?” Fil asked tentatively, unsure of the protocol for a common soldier like himself. Fil realized that the only reason he was at the meeting was because of his personal relationship with Jonas and the fact that he had accompanied them on the mission to get the king.

  “Of course, Fil,” Kromm replied.

  “Jonas mentioned something to me once that may be of importance,” Fil began, addressing the entire group. “He told me that when he healed King Kromm after the battle with Gould’s hounds, that he felt something deep inside the king, like a presence waiting to explode. He couldn’t describe it well, but he made it sound like it was a powerful force hidden within him.” Fil hesitated as he saw recognition on the king’s face. “Is it possible that you are an Ishmian, that you have some power that you are not aware of?” Fil asked the king. The silence in the room was brief, but it seemed to last forever.

  “Is this possible, Addalis?” King Baylin asked.

  “It is possible, but unlikely. By all accounts, Ishmians manifest their powers at adolescence, and I have never heard of an account where an Ishmian is not even aware of their power once it has surfaced,” Addalis said, addressing the group.

  “I am not an Ishmian,” Kromm said
frankly. “The presence that Jonas felt was my sword, Cormathiam. Magic was imbued within the blade when it was created hundreds of years ago. It was given to my great great grandfather by his court wizard, Sakaris, to protect the royal family.”

  “I did not know that Sakaris created your blade,” Addalis said. Sakaris was an uncle to Addalis’s great great grandfather. The royal wizards pass on their knowledge to their sons, who carry on the oath to protect the royal family. Sakaris was the greatest wizard in Addalis’s family, and many people in Tarsis still hear his name mentioned in poems and sung in ballads. If he indeed created a sentient sword for King Kromm’s family, then the weapon would be mighty indeed.

  “If you are not an Ishmian, my Lord, then it must be…”

  “My son,” the queen interrupted. Queen Sorana looked at Riker with tears in her eyes.

  “But I am not an Ishmian,” Riker said unconvincingly.

  Alerion leaned forward in his chair. “Are you sure, Prince Riker?”

  Everyone looked at the prince.

  “Is there anything that has happened to you recently that might make you think otherwise?” Alerion pressed.

  “The lightning bolt,” Allindrian interjected softly, thinking back to the attack at Cuthaine. Alerion quickly turned his attention to the Blade Singer as she continued. “He was hit from ten paces by a lightning bolt and suffered no burns.”

  “You are sure? Who performed the spell?” Alerion asked, leaning forward in excitement.

  “Malbeck’s wizard. We elves know him as Elthereen, but I believe you call him Gullanin,” Allindrian said.

  Alerion sat back in his chair and looked at Riker in wonder. “Were you wearing armor, young prince?”

  “Yes,” Riker answered. “I remember the power of the bolt hitting me hard enough to crush in my armor and fling me backwards to crash into a wall. I was unconscious at that point, and I don’t remember much.”

  “Besides the elven Ekahals, Gullanin is perhaps the most powerful wizard in all of Kraawn. A bolt from him would literally melt a normal man. And your armor should have acted like an oven. You should not be alive,” Alerion stated matter-of-factly.

  “I too was hit by Gullanin’s bolt and lived. What does that prove?” Kromm asked testily.

  “You were burned badly, my love,” the queen said. “In fact Ulren’s priest said that the only damage that Riker suffered was caused by the impact of the bolt, not the bolt itself. He could not understand it either.”

  “Besides, you are no normal man. Many of your enemies would attest to that,” Alerion added. “Not to mention that your sword, if it was made by Sakaris, probably imbues healing properties to its wielder. Is that not so?”

  Kromm sighed. “It is.”

  “What does it mean?” Kiln asked. “Do you think Prince Riker is an Ishmian? Does he have the power to somehow negate magic?” he asked Alerion. Everyone turned their eyes to the wizard.

  Alerion did not want to look at King Kromm and Queen Sorana. He knew he would see the sorrow there, the pleading that it not be their son who was placed in this dire situation. But he had no control over fate. Things were falling into place and he was just a pawn in the game. Besides, what he thought did not make it so. Riker was, or was not, the Ishmian to destroy Malbeck. What he thought would not change that. So he simply told them what he believed. “Yes, although we cannot be totally sure, I believe that he has that power. We must assume that there is a real probability that Prince Riker is the warrior to face Malbeck.”

  Kromm dropped his head into his hands and his wife made a barely audible cry. No one said anything for a few moments, and it was Prince Riker who spoke first.

  “I do not know if I am the man you speak of, Master Alerion. I am not a tried warrior, and I am not afraid to admit that the thought of facing the Dark One frightens me.”

  “You will not fight him!” Kromm yelled as he stood up from the table. “I will take your place! You cannot…”

  “Father! Please, let me finish,” Riker said. No one said a word as Kromm slowly sat back down. “Father, you were fighting battles when you were my age. Jonas fights for his life as we speak and he is no more than four years older than I. Master Durgen has already lost his son in this fight. Taleen perished protecting us from the Malbeck’s hounds. Myrell, Kilius, and many others have already died in the fight. We have all suffered, and we must all do our part. I do not know how I can defeat Malbeck. But with all your help, I will try. I will do my part, and if it means that I forfeit my life in the process, then who am I to argue against that same sacrifice that so many others have already made? You taught me, Father, that royalty must earn their right to rule. If I turn my back on this now, then I am not fit to call myself prince.”

  There was a pall of silence as everyone looked at Prince Riker, stirred by his words and proud to hear them.

  “Well said, Prince. You will not be alone. Me son’s axe will be by your side,” Durgen said as he stood from the table and crossed his thick arms across his barrel chest.

  “Elven arrows will also protect you,” Allindrian added as she too stood.

  Both Dakeen warriors stood in unison and raised their hands, touching the tips of their fingers to their foreheads and bowing slightly. “It would honor us to serve you in this fight,” the twins said in unison.

  “Finarth will bleed next to you if that is our fate,” King Baylin said as he rose.

  “Agreed,” Kiln replied quickly, standing in one smooth motion.

  It was not long before everyone was standing and swearing support and loyalty to the courageous young prince. Everyone except for Kromm, who still had his head buried in his hands, and his wife who held onto him, crying softly.

  Three

  Unlikely Friends

  Hagar had been walking for almost two weeks. He didn’t really know where he was going, but there was a sense of something guiding him, like a beacon in his mind that was aiming him in the right direction. He knew that he was leaving the mountains, something that he had never done before. The thick forests of the Tundrens had always been his shield, protecting him from the outside world. But not anymore.

  Hagar was an ogrillion, half-orc and half-ogre. Ogrillions were very rare; in fact Hagar had never met another like him. He had been cast out to die by his ogre mother and had lived a life of solitude ever since. He was an anomaly for an ogrillion, since he was not inherently evil, as were other ogres and orcs. In fact he didn’t like to kill anything, even when he had to eat. He lived a life of loneliness, surviving day to day in the shadows of the Tundren’s peaks. But everything had recently changed for the gentle beast. He had been captured by slavers who were scouring the desolate mountain villages that were far away from the protection of King Kromm of Tarsis. The slavers had been taking him and their human cargo to Stonestep to work the diamond mines of Mount Ule, when two cavaliers had saved him as well as the human slaves that accompanied him. Hagar did not know what a cavalier was, but the man’s intent was clear, and he could feel that the human meant him no harm. He was a rare beast of compassion, and even though he was not by nature intelligent, he could recognize the good intentions of the young warrior that had freed him from his chains. That same sense of compassion was also apparent in the man’s companions and the young human woman who had been freed with him. Hagar was intrigued by her. She did not seem to be afraid of him. He was stirred by how she touched him with apparent trust and affection. She saw him as something other than a blood thirsty beast.

  And that was why he had continued to follow them farther into the Tundrens. It had been his instinctive desire to protect his benefactors that had carried him deeper into the mountains, using his keen sense of smell to follow the small group. When he had found them, he did not hesitate to fling himself into danger to protect them, and when he had done so, the giant demon hound had nearly killed him.

  That was the last that he had seen of them. He remembered losing consciousness, but after that he could recall nothing. He had awake
ned to find himself lying in a grassy meadow. He hurt everywhere, and pink scars lined his entire body. The sharp claws of the beast had even found their way through his thick hard skin that covered his body like natural leather armor.

  But he was alone in the field, so he did the only thing he could. He walked. He knew that he was venturing into lands where he’d never been because everything looked different. There were no longer any cliffs or huge spires of rock covered in snow. The ground was flat and covered with large glades of trees. It had been a while since he’d last had food, and the scrawny fox he was forced to kill did nothing to curb his appetite. He needed to hunt.

  He walked slowly through the dense forest as the rays of the early morning sun burst through the gaps in the branches, creating patches of light within the shadowy forest. A low mist surrounded him, slowly dissipating with the sun’s advance. In both hands he carried rocks that were the size of a human head, but in his giant hands they looked like little stones a child might skip across a calm lake. Hagar’s need to hunt on his own at a young age spurred him to develop his rock throwing skills. He could hit a running deer at a hundred paces with devastating results. And that was the animal he was now looking for.

  An hour later his patience paid off. He had just climbed a gentle rise and stepped over a fallen tree when he spotted a huge deer about fifty paces in front of him. The ground was covered with low lying shrubs, but the large buck easily stood above the foliage. It was the largest deer that Hagar had ever seen. The rack on the animal spanned his considerable arm’s width, and its shoulders stood as tall as his own.

  It was staring right at him, which made him pause in mid-stride. He didn’t want to startle the animal, but he was easily within range and there were no trees or obstructions to avert his throw. Hagar slowly moved his arm backwards, keeping his eye on the animal. It still hadn’t moved, so with one quick motion he snapped his powerful arm forward, releasing the deadly missile.

  The throw was true, and Hagar was already moving towards the doomed deer. But at the last minute the deer did something impossible. It didn’t flee or startle, it simply, and subtly, leaped aside at the last minute, and the stone crashed into a tree behind it.