“Same thing against those firegnats,” Randler recalled. “You know, why not try a water spell right now?”
“What? How’s that—?”
“Do it,” Randler interrupted him. “I have a feeling it will work fine.”
With a sigh, Dariak complied. He curled his hands toward a nearby pail and spouted the words, “Kathra hydallos spirrilious.” As directed, the water rose in an ascending spiral, then splattered back down when he dropped his hands. Bolstered by the success, he focused on the power of earth, “Temmular rothribak fau shei.” But the pail did not tip over at his command, though it did shudder for a moment. He groaned in annoyance.
“Resonance and dissonance,” Randler said with a smile lighting his voice.
“I don’t see how this failure makes you so happy,” the mage grumbled.
“You don’t see it, that’s why.” He beamed. “But you’re looking at it from a standpoint of power and ability. Not from the overlap or lack of overlap, for that matter. It’s like when a lute and a drum play together, one can overpower the other at times, but finding a balance so they work in harmony makes for better music.”
Dariak stared at the bard, not knowing what to say, but amused nonetheless by Randler’s sudden excitement. “Put it in mage terms, if you can.”
Randler laughed. “The jade you took from ma-ma is that of air, yes? And you have the jade of earth with you. Aren’t they opposing forces? Wouldn’t they cancel each other out in some way?”
The truth of it struck him and relief washed over him all at once. “Yes! Yes, that would fit! Just like in the tower when the lightning jade was going berserk and I tried containing it with the power of shadow. I thought it was because I was unfamiliar with your jade. But no, that makes sense. They couldn’t contain each other completely, and since I had less experience with the shadow, I was even less effective on my own. Yet when I added the power of water and earth, I was able to enclose the lightning for a time. Yes. Randler, yes!”
The bard delighted in the sudden illumination in Dariak’s eyes and then he was puzzled as the mage thrust the air jade into his hands.
“Hold that for a moment.” He then stepped away and summoned the Shield of Delminor, sensing it for weakness and now finding none. “Yes!” he laughed. “Oh, it isn’t me after all!” His relief was palpable.
He spent the next few minutes summoning minor spells, ensuring he was in full control, but Randler’s mind was on to something else and he hesitated to bring it up. “Dariak…” He decided to remain true to the mage and so he pushed the words out instead of letting them fade away. “Dariak, if the jades can interfere with each other and cancel each other out, then how can you possibly bring them all together and unite them? Won’t they just prevent each other from functioning?”
Dariak’s mood crashed with the question. The light went from his face and he dropped himself to the ground heavily. “I have no idea how they can be united. Do I wear them all around me or do I have to fuse them magically together? And how are they to be arranged? Is there a way they are supposed to line up? I don’t have any information about that.”
“They must, somehow, right? Line up, that is.”
Dariak looked at the bard and shrugged. “Yes, they must. Of course they must, because it was done before.”
“Yes, the mage who summoned the colossus,” Randler said solemnly. “I wonder if he left any records of his work.”
Dariak realized at that moment that Randler didn’t know the connection between himself and that fateful mage. He rarely spoke of it himself, preferring to keep his father’s work tucked safely away, but apparently his companions hadn’t brought Randler up to speed either. He wondered why. “What do you know of that mage?” he decided to ask.
The bard tapped his lip and considered the question for a moment. “The stories all speak of a cold, heartless mage, gathering the energies of the land in a desperate rush to slay our king. Even stories I’ve heard from Hathrens hold him in a similar light, that it would take a mage of great power and arrogance to call that much power forth. But…” and his voice drifted off to silence.
“But what?” Dariak prompted.
“Well, I haven’t thought much of it since then, really, but when my grandfather returned from the battle he spoke of the mage with a sort of reverence and respect. I always thought back then it was because of the massive power he had held. But listening to my memories now, it sounds different.”
“In what way?”
“That moment wasn’t the only time my grandfather had met that mage on the battlefield. That war had raged on for some time and there were other skirmishes before the colossus came about. My grandfather always commented about the use of mages on the other side of the line, and the lack of offensive mages on our side. Sure, we employed many healers, but the outright firecasters and such were abominations of the enemy. Yet he noticed on the field that the other mages rallied behind one in particular and seemed to take his lead in some areas. Admittedly, war is chaos and following simple plans isn’t likely to happen, but my grandfather saw that when the magic became dangerous and erratic, the mage would calm the others.”
“The same mage?” Dariak asked.
“I think that was what my grandfather was hinting at, now that I’m dwelling on it. He used to say that the enemy in front of us isn’t always there by choice. Duty drives people to do what they must, not what they desire. Maybe… Maybe he understood something about the mage that others didn’t.”
“Maybe,” Dariak supplied, “he wasn’t intending to wreak havoc on the land; maybe he wanted to just stop the fighting?”
Randler’s voice escaped in the whisper, “Maybe.” He stared at Dariak for a while in silence, wondering at all the horrible tales of that mage and then thinking of them again. He knew his words were powerful at times and could sway emotions one way or another, but perhaps the mage behind the colossus had another story.
Dariak let the silence sit for a moment before posing, “Perhaps the mage summoned the colossus because Kallisor troops infiltrated Hathren camps and poisoned the people within? Maybe the fighting was about to become truly vicious and horrific and so he brought out the jades and tapped into them, hoping to scare the enemy away, rather than decimate them.”
“I’ll admit, I’ve never allowed myself to consider that as an option. He was just a violator of natural law and good riddance at his death.”
Dariak drew in a breath of air and released it slowly, trying not to let the declaration upset him. “The mage’s name was Delminor. He worked personally for the king and most of the mages in Hathreneir looked up to him for his work. He was a cautious mage, but also curious. Sure, he experimented with numerous magical methods, but he always did so with as many safety precautions as possible. Sometimes he would bring in teams of mages to not only watch his progress, but also to help with the protections in case things went awry. And things did often go awry.”
“Delminor,” Randler echoed. “That’s the name of the shield you summon.”
“Yes. He was among the first mages to do so with the power of earth. Sure, others would cast walls of force by bending air or calling rock over in front of them, or by reflecting the damage back. But Delminor broke through the basic uses of magic and applied them in unique ways. The Shield of Delminor not only blocks projectiles from getting through, it magnifies their weight, thus grounding them and trapping them. He discovered it by communing with the earth jade, among others, and watching its effects on the objects around him. He saw patterns where other mages didn’t and then he was able to manipulate the world in a very different way.”
Randler nodded his head slowly. “He sounds creative and talented when you tell it this way. You must have looked up to him, too.”
“At heart, he was a very kind man. Deeply loving and protective of the people around him. He didn’t necessarily develop the Shield of Delminor as a means of protecting soldiers in war. In fact, he was working with the castle engineers to de
velop a better lift system. The Shield would augment the weight of a passenger or stone and, depending on that weight, the lift would respond. No need for muscled slaves hoisting rocks, like Gabrion was forced to do in his imprisonment.
“But as you’ve noted before,” Dariak continued on, “our nations have always been at war, and so every practical application was also bent toward battle, and Delminor did his work well. He created his spells and then worked with the soldiers to adapt them for use in a fight. He wasn’t able to create for the sake of creation. If he had been, who knows where we would be today?”
“I wonder if my grandfather saw a bit of that in him, too, even from afar.”
“He had the jades for years before anyone ever knew about them. Not all of them at first, but he had a good team of treasure hunters who would seek them out. They also employed the talents of bards for help in locating and deciphering obscure hints and locations.” He tipped his head in respect toward Randler. “Though some mages wanted to use the jades for themselves, they couldn’t harness the power within, and Delminor’s team managed to claim them all in the end, sometimes by force.”
“You know much. Are these tales taught in Hathreneir?”
“They are,” Dariak acknowledged, “but that isn’t how I know them. I knew Delminor personally. He showed me his work when I was just a tiny child and I was awed even without knowing what he was doing.” He grew quiet for a moment. “But my best memories of him were when he would come to me at night and tuck me in. Then he would make the candles all glow different colors and swirl until I fell asleep.”
Randler gasped with realization. “He was your father!”
“Yes.” He then let silence hang in the air until Randler processed the information.
“And you’re looking to continue his work,” the bard said some time later. “You want to stop the warring so you can go back to seeking spells in their own right. That’s why you thrived in the Prisoner’s Tower and didn’t try to escape. You were finally in a workspace where you could step closer to your true purpose.”
“Now you have it,” he agreed. “War or not, I need the jades to continue my father’s ingenuity. But I would rather fulfill his life’s goal, which was to show the world they could get along without fighting. If we could power lifts with magic, we wouldn’t need slaves. People could work where they wanted to and not have to subjugate others. I want the same thing. He never wanted to bring those jades together in that colossus, but in the face of all else, he had little choice.”
“You must have been too young to know any of this when he died.”
“Of course, but he kept detailed journals, and mother would sit and read them to me, so I could have father’s words with me growing up, even if he himself was gone. When I came of age, she gave me the earth jade, which had been returned to us from the war. So, I followed his path and worked with his apprentices to learn what they knew of his spells, until I was able to understand the texts myself. Then I spent some years working his magic until I was ready to venture off on my own. But now that we’re gathering all of these jades, I’m at a loss of what to do with them.”
Randler looked down at the air jade Dariak had handed him earlier. “Your father’s notes didn’t say?”
The mage shrugged. “I knew the jades I needed to look for, but not specifically where. I know the mage towers in Hathreneir have two, and they will bequeath them to me when I arrive there and prove myself worthy of them. It is my right as Delminor’s son and as a member of the Mage Council. But at the start of my quest, I knew so little aside from the words. And I planned to bring the jades together in my father’s laboratory anyway, so I could consult his texts with the jades in hand. So, I don’t know if he actually wrote down how to bring them all together or not. However, if he could unravel the mystery himself, I’m sure I can find a way, too.”
They sat quietly for a while and the sun tracked its way through the sky. “That’s a lot of information, Dariak. I will need to process it into a ballad so I can remember it all clearly. Would you mind if we stop for now and eat or something? Then, after, perhaps we’ll spend some time with our lore and see what we can do to get the earth and the air to cooperate with each other. I feel it must link in with dissonance, but it would take time to find out.”
Dariak’s eyes opened wide. “You would help me unlock their powers further?”
The bard smiled hesitantly. “I’m still worried you might try to destroy the world or something, but if you do and I helped along the way, maybe even I’ll be immortalized in a song.” He winked.
Dariak shook his head. “I think you’re more likely to be the voice of reason, when it comes down to it. But yes, enough of this for now. I’m famished, too.”
Chapter 8
Heria’s Mercy
Kitalla awoke, badly sore and bruised. Above her was a dank, musty ceiling and it smelled as if sewage ran through the room. She could barely turn her head, for a leather strap pinned her skull to a large wooden board that was slightly angled upward from the floor. Her legs and arms were stretched outward and bound with numerous bands, preventing all hope of escape. Large straps were secured about her torso, so tightly it was hard to breathe.
The angle at which she was raised allowed her to see Gabrion across the way, bound in similar fashion. He seemed to be asleep, for his chest rose and fell in a very slow rhythm. Kitalla didn’t recognize the place from the view she had, but her biggest concern was trying to get free.
She tugged, twisted, and pulled from every direction, but nothing gave way. Heria had apparently wrapped each strap around her before securing it, thus there was no leeway when she tried to move. The thief was completely at the maniac’s mercy.
Kitalla listened intently to the chamber and heard a trickle off to one end, no doubt the source of the odor that made her want to gag. Nothing else gave her any indication of her whereabouts or any means of escape. As she lay there, she could sense that Heria hadn’t taken the time to disarm her. Perhaps she hadn’t trusted the sleeping potion to keep Kitalla asleep for long enough, but when she tried her bindings again, it wouldn’t have even mattered if she were a mage, she was so tightly secured. Or maybe, the thought skittered through her mind, the metal jade had effectively hidden itself and her iron daggers from prying eyes and hands. It was a fleeting thought but she couldn’t dwell on it anyway.
Despite the restraints pinning her down, she refused to give up. Her trials against Grenthar had prepared her for such as this. No mere teenager would defeat her, even when it looked so grim. Kitalla tensed and loosened her body from head to toe, progressing from one muscle group to the next. The bindings were indeed tight and restricted her, but leather was leather. It had a breaking point. If she could find one weaker segment, her way to freedom would be at hand.
As she wriggled about, Gabrion awoke and tested his own prison. Unlike Kitalla, he pulled frantically and groaned in frustration until the thief whispered to him. “Keep quiet or she will hear you.” He fell silent at once.
Kitalla, meanwhile, continued trying to stretch and release, hoping to build up some sweat that might soak into the straps and perhaps let her break through them. What she didn’t know was that Heria had laced the leather with a mild sedative and the more she perspired, the easier it was for the poison to seep into her skin. Soon, the thief was disoriented and she ground her teeth against passing out again.
Footsteps echoed from afar and Kitalla focused on them carefully. She needed to be alert now more than ever. She stopped trying to wriggle about and forced herself to lie still, waiting for her captor to join her.
Heria bounced into the room from the side near the trickling sound. Skipping and whistling a children’s song, she went to Gabrion’s holding platform and then she whirled around Kitalla’s, laughing when she saw evidence of Kitalla’s struggle.
“That isn’t going to work!” she sang merrily. “You should have figured from the ropes earlier that I would poison those too. Be still, hag. Be sti
ll, this won’t take long. But you need to be awake for it, so relax. Just relax.”
“What do you want from us?” Kitalla breathed.
Heria responded petulantly, “I already told you! Why is it, when you dance, you make things happen to people? I want to do that, too, so I’m going to find out how you do it, so then I can learn. See?”
“You don’t need him. Let him go.”
Heria laughed and pounced across the room to Gabrion’s plank. She pulled off a leather strap from his midsection and then rubbed his belly. “But he feels so nice and solid. Even here in the meal bucket. No, I want to find out more about him.” She touched her lips to his navel and laughed. “He even tastes different. Oh, look at him wiggle!” She cackled as Gabrion tried to writhe away from her touch, but of course he couldn’t go anywhere.
“How did you get us here?” Kitalla asked, trying to distract Heria.
“Not easy! Not easy!” the girl cooed. “I had to use the vines. Yes, they don’t much like me, but when I threaten to kill them, they do what I say in the end. It all evens out.”
“Vines?”
Heria clapped her hands. “Well yes, they listen to me sometimes. But like I said, not always. That’s why I didn’t tie you up with them. No, I had to use the straps. My poor friend, Zerra. But it did give me lots of meat to eat.”
“Zerra?” The name was completely unfamiliar to her.
“Yes, yes, like a sister of mine, but a boy, so more like a brother, really,” she corrected herself. “Big fellow in every way. His parts were more jiggly than Masher’s. But he’s more useful this way, holding you down.”
The realization—and horror—set in slowly. “These straps aren’t leather?” she had to ask.
Heria only laughed in reply. “But I thought you wanted to know about how you got here? Though, I could certainly tell you which parts are which if you’d prefer. Why, sometimes I like to try to reassemble—”
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