I groaned inwardly.
“Far worse. From the Disciples we could hide Dawn indefinitely; with her capacity, I could simply teach her a cloaking glamer and they would be hard-pressed to find her with any of their awful instruments. Then, as long as we controlled her dreams, she would be practically hidden from sight. It would no longer be worth the effort of capturing her, seeing as how we are so very far away from the Empire of Un. But of course, the unmen aren’t the only ones aware of her existence.”
“They saw a Witch. A real Witch!” Lyrèlie exclaimed.
“And?” asked Herace, propping his feet up on the table and folding his arms. “I’ve dealt with witches before. Shamans, hedge wizards, the lot of ‘em. There are entire Orders in Céin Urthia who would jump at a chance to fight witchcraft on behalf of the princess.”
“I don’t think you understand what we mean when we say ‘Witch.’ We do not mean old crones who speak with mice or satyresses who whisper your fortune. We mean the ancient tenders of the Shade, who propagate its sickly influence in the hopes of feeding off its ever-more potent energy. Their homeland is far to the east, even past the Empire of Un, past the untame steppes where uyrguk and birdfolk and giants roam in savage splendor. They inhabit all the mires where the Shade has turned good soil into a barren wasteland, a place of mud and decay and fungi and ashen skies. Long have they lived, longer than any natural lifespan, and in their endless existence they have grown horribly powerful,” Majira explained.
“The Shade? You mean the thing that poisons Sythir Eaoghn?” asked Dawn.
“Exactly. It is a grand corruptor, turning natural things into mere shadows of themselves, twisted and cursed. The Shade is to the Witches what an orchard might be to us; we tend the trees, we seek to expand the bounds, while at the same time we eat the fruit. It is a cycle. But in the case of the Shade, an unnatural one. For the Shade is an outgrowth of the Void; where the Void is inert, stationary, and a natural part of creation, the Shade is predatory, hungry, always seeping out to foul its surroundings. The Shade thus draws its own power from the Void; it is a corrupted version of the Nothing’s emptiness. It is living shadow.”
All of this was new to me. It was hard to understand, and yet Majira was relentless in her explanation.
“So the Witches are after Dawn too. But they’re even further away than the unmen. Shouldn’t be a problem.” Herace said.
“Not so, Herace. As Dawn mentioned, the Shade is present – albeit in trace amounts – even in Sythir Eaoghn, the very hills that surround us. The Witches have bizarre ways to reach out and make their presence known anywhere there might be the Shade. And as I just explained, the Shade is a moving, growing darkness. There is a possibility that the Witches can follow Dawn wherever she goes, and keeping hidden from them is much more difficult than keeping hidden from the unmen.”
“Difficult but not impossible, right?” I asked, desperately hoping that there was a way.
“Correct. Difficult, but not impossible,” Majira said. “We must be vigilant. Dawn must learn to protect herself, and learn how to remain hidden.”
“How do you even know all this? I’ve never heard of the Witches,” blurted Herace.
“I’m not terribly surprised by your ignorance. They are, after all, very far away and very occupied at the moment. The Empire of Un and the Witches have been locked in a grinding war for over two centuries. So long, in fact, that they have become known as the Twin Pillars of Woe, holding up the house of destruction. And it doesn’t seem like that war will be ending any time soon, unless the Disciples succeed in their mission to send all creation to the Void. That is their ultimate goal, after all; cleanse the world in one final act of retribution.”
“They want to destroy the whole world? Is that even possible?” Dawn asked, worry etched onto her face.
“Truthfully, I do not know,” Majira said, shrugging. “It may be possible. But given a choice between being consumed by the Void or used in a Witch pain-magick ritual… that’s a difficult choice.”
An uneasy silence ensued. The chirp of crickets filled the air. I no longer heard the whispers of the small folk from the ferns. I watched the faces of Lyrèlie, Majira, Dawn, and Herace. Each was illuminated by dim coloured light, casting shadows of uncertainty and deep thought. I desperately wanted to reach out and touch one of them, any of them, for reassurance – but I chased that urge away, suspecting it was a product of the fae toying with my emotions.
“Speaking of choices,” Lyrèlie finally said, “You’re at a crossroads, Princess Dawn.”
Dawn sat up straighter.
“You can stay here, with me, and Majira will teach you how to stay hidden and how to protect yourself. I know that neither of you can stay for long – you children of the wood need to return to your Sacred ground. But Glenn Mereillon is a good place to hide.”
Dawn nodded slowly, contemplating the offer.
“What’s the other option?” she then asked.
“There are two, actually. Both will require you to leave here, to not return to Céin Urthia,” said Majira. “Staying on the move has its own benefit; you will be very difficult to track, much more difficult than staying in one place, which is something to consider.”
“And where would I go?”
Majira and Lyrèlie shared a brief look.
“You could go north and find an old… acquaintance of mine. He is an expert seer and can teach you methods of cloaking yourself that I could only imagine. He is a master magician and would truly be able to bring you to your highest potential; compared to him, I am but an initiate. You would be in very capable hands,” Majira said.
“And my final option?”
“You could go to the being who watches from a cleft in the rock,” Lyrèlie whispered.
She let her words hang in the air. I had absolutely no idea what that meant, and for the hundredth time that night, I felt totally lost in this meeting.
“Sorry, what? Is that supposed to mean something? Because I have no clue what that’s supposed to mean,” I finally said.
“The being who watches from the cleft in the rock,” she repeated. “An ancient being who has seen all. Far to the west, where the hills go on forever and ever! I’m sure he could help. That’s where I would go.”
Majira put a hand on Lyrèlie’s shoulder and smiled good-naturedly.
“Yes, if anyone could find this being, I’m sure he could tell us much. And who knows; perhaps one day, Dawn, you will be able to find him.”
“But I know someone who can help you find him!” Lyrèlie said excitedly. “Imagine all the questions you could ask someone so wise!”
“I’ll have to think about it. But thank you, Lyrèlie. Thank you both.” Dawn replied diplomatically, nodding to them each in turn. “I just need some time to think.”
“Of course. It is late, anyway. You need to rest. We all do,” said Majira, standing up from the low stone table.
“Hey, hold on. You never answered my question,” Herace said, still seated.
“What question would that be?” Majira asked.
“How do you know all this?”
She grinned at him, a grin belying as much mischief as Lyrèlie’s. She spread her arms languidly and tilted her head to the side.
“There are many things to be learned from the delvers of dreams; many things to be learned in lands far away. But that is all I will say, Herace the Redeemed. Let a lady keep some of her mysteries.”
Herace opened his mouth to press further but then stopped. Majira turned away with a light laugh and walked into the trees, soon disappearing from sight.
“Should you want, you may come to the Holy Oak to sleep. But I won’t press. I’m sure you all have some talking to do,” Lyrèlie said and fluttered off after Majira.
The three of us were alone. Dawn and I stood up. Herace remained seated, still brooding.
“Think I’ll stay here a while. I might go back to the horses,” he said, s
taring off into the trees. “Either way, I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Dawn and I said goodnight and carried on, wending our way through a very narrow path practically overgrown with ripe greenery, guided only by warm moonlight. We walked until we arrived at the rocky base of the Holy Oak. I was happy to get some alone time with her.
Once at its base, Dawn leaned against an outcropping root and sighed, letting her head droop. Her wavy hair fell all around her face. I held my tongue, letting her have a moment of peace.
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally said in an airy voice.
I stood next to her and leaned against the bare root too, close but not too close.
“Should I stay here? Should I go north?” she continued, speaking her mind aloud. “There’s just so much to consider… how long do I have to hide? Will life ever go back to normal?”
I didn’t say anything. We stayed there for a while in comfortable silence. I looked up to the vast canopy above and the shimmering stars beyond and I wondered if life was ever normal before.
Dawn sighed again and slowly, very slowly, moved over to lean her head against my shoulder. A surge of sweet longing welled up inside me but I stayed still despite it.
“Ortham… I’m afraid,” she whispered.
“I know. I understand,” I said quietly, and leaned into her.
I felt her warmth through my shirt and I thought back to our first time here, in Glenn Mereillon. I wanted to relive that moment but I knew it was so far away, so far behind. Yet there we were, standing side by side, her head on my shoulder and I knew it was juvenile and I knew it was ridiculous and I knew it was probably just that damned fae magick but I enjoyed every moment we were touching.
“Everything will be alright…”
19
Bram Tan Heth
Just as I presumed, Avaxenon caught up to me. I knew there was no way he would want to wait, alone, in the open. Not with the four assailants prowling the college grounds.
I wasn’t quite sure what I would do once I found them – if I found them. Fight them off, and I would be exiled for certain this time. The only reason why I wasn’t already barred from attending the scholar’s council was due to my status us Magus – and likely, my reputation as an unequalled seer. The Vindayan authorities already had a judicial injunction against me, though they had not yet acted on it.
What to do, what to do… fight and be punished, flee and fail to convince the council of the looming threat… both bad options.
“So what is your plan, Bram Tan Heth?” Avaxenon huffed beside me, still breathless from catching up. “Are you just going to walk into the college and hope those four brutes don’t find you?”
“No,” I replied. “I hope they do find me.”
“What!” he exclaimed. “Are you mad, Bram?”
“Apparently, yes. So I’ve heard,” I replied as we climbed the steps back up to the main complex.
“So you’re just going to let them find you? Then what?”
“Well, then nothing,” I said. “I’m not going to do anything. They can’t hurt me, Avaxenon. Not here, not with this council going on. And I have no research for them to destroy. So what should I care if they find me?”
We were back at the wide open balcony. There were more folk out now, wandering in groups and pairs. I scanned around for the elf, the two ur-men, and the hobgoblin. If anything, though, they would have split up to find us.
Avaxenon drew close to my shoulder as we headed to the library. As long as we were never alone we couldn’t be menaced by those four thugs; they wouldn’t be so brazen, I was sure.
“I think you’re forgetting the fact that they nearly murdered me, Bram,” Avaxenon said. “Had I not jumped from the window, I would be dead!”
“Perhaps. But if we flee now, we will never convince the scholar’s council, and in turn, the report sent to the Grand Council in Vindaya won’t even have a whisper of the threats we face. Don’t you see?” I asked rhetorically as we passed through the richly-carved doors of the library.
It was the largest library north of Vindaya itself, and immaculately kept. The College of Valethucia was moreso just a collection of buildings to house this famous repository of knowledge than a purpose-built school. This library was one of the key reasons I had come here to study so many years ago, long before my quasi-exile. Valethucia to me was far freer of civilization’s taint, its suffocating bureaucracy, than any college of the south. It had a distinct air of esthetic discipline, sitting lonesome against the rocky coast of the Violet Ocean. And I was a northerner at heart. I simply could not submit myself to the southern yoke so easily.
We came to a shelf nearby a common area where some other mages were conversing. I turned to inspect the spines of the books absentmindedly. Avaxenon did the same.
“I suppose you are correct,” he sighed, running a finger along the spine of an old tome. “But why would they come here? Why destroy my research? The only obvious answer is that someone – perhaps even someone here – is desperate to keep us quiet…”
“Indeed. Whoever sent the thugs has an agenda, and seeing as how they targeted the two of us, it is all too clear the motives… they do not want the council to agree on the Witch threat…” I said in a low voice, so as to not be overheard.
“Well, that could be anyone,” Avaxenon said, withdrawing the tome from the shelf and scanning its cover. “Anyone with interests in forestalling a war. Or interests in focusing war against the Empire of Un, or even across the Southern Sea. It could have been Sarahm Livae, the mage who debated me the other day. Or those damnable expansionists, the Society. Or, even worse, perhaps those under influence of the Shade itself…”
I doubted any here could be under the Shade’s perverse influence. This council was too saturated by wizards eager to weed it out of the continent; surely they would have been detected. More than likely the assailants were sent on behalf of a meddling politicker eager to hide the truth.
“Frankly, Avaxenon, I don’t think it matters much why they were sent or by whom they were sent. The ugly reality is that we must continue on in our bid to convince the council of the Witch threat. As we have seen, all are well aware of the threat posed by the Empire of Un; so now they must realize that there is not one, but two evils growing just beyond our sight,” I muttered. “Focusing on one threat is just as bad as ignoring both, for if we strike the one, the other will grow far more powerful. We must fell both the Twin Pillars of Woe.”
Avaxenon slid the tome back into the shelf.
“Then what do we do? Ignore the assailants? I haven’t even gone back to my quarters. They might still be waiting there,” he said.
“Ignore them for now. We’ll go tell the Grand Speaker, of course. But otherwise, we will simply carry on as if nothing happened, staying vigilant all the while,” I replied.
Before I could turn to lead the way to the Grand Speaker’s chamber, Avaxenon stopped me.
“Bram,” Avaxenon whispered to me. “Whatever happens next, I need you to know something.”
“You’d better tell me now,” I whispered back.
Avaxenon looked around to make sure no one could hear. Then he leaned in close.
“I got a message. From Majira. She needs your help. Said it was urgent,” he said.
My eyes opened wide with shock.
“Majira?”
A name I hadn’t heard spoken aloud for years – a name from happier times. Also a name I had hoped to never hear again.
“How? When? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Because, it was right before those four thugs showed up in my room!” he snapped back. “I was a little preoccupied.”
I rubbed my temples. Majira… what could she possibly want? We hadn’t made contact for a long time. Things had ended… less than well.
But that was another life. I was a different elf, she a different dau – and nothing was the same.
“What d
id she want?” I pressed.
“I don’t know. It was a pre-contained mix for the Occura Avaeda. Her message just said she needed your help, that it was urgent. And that she needed to talk to you. She said you would know where to go,” he recounted.
I knew exactly where to go. And I knew that if Majira was desperate enough to try to contact me, even going so far as to speak through Avaxenon, it was dire indeed.
“Well,” I said at last, “it’s no matter. We must attend to this council first.”
And with that we carried on, out of the library, and headed to the chamber of the Grand Speaker.
The way there was all but empty. Nothing but sparse corridors and unfurnished rooms.
The Grand Speaker himself was extremely old. Old enough for me to remember how old he was when I had studied at the college many years ago. Those were happier times, when I was still ignorant. Things seemed simpler, and there was less malice skulking about the edges of my consciousness. Ah, to be a fool once more! To lay my head down and dream real dreams instead of mirror-imaged unrealities too bizarre and too fantastical for the mortal mind to comprehend…
Much happier times. Times with Majira…
But I couldn’t get distracted. There was a crisis afoot and I needed all my faculties to overcome it and I couldn’t fight off the Black Laughter and old memories at the same time.
The Grand Speaker’s chamber was down a long hallway in the eastern wing of the college. Aside from the library and the conference hall it was the oldest room, unchanged for centuries. Few windows dotted the corridor, all very high up and very small. Shafts of evening light shone down onto the smooth stone floor.
We didn’t even make it halfway.
Avaxenon stopped. I bumped into him.
There, at the end of the hall, emerged two figures from the dim shadows; an elf and a hobgoblin, the former dressed as a lesser mage and the latter as a servant.
In unison Avaxenon and I turned to go back the way we came; but it was no use. Blocking the entrance, perhaps twenty strides away, were the silhouettes of two ur-men in simple courtly dress.
Day of the Hunt (The Faun Quartet Book 2) Page 16