Randler was awake, however, and he wasn’t sure how to disentangle himself from Frast’s advances without hurting the mage’s feelings. He liked Frast, but his heart belonged to Dariak. Opting for a deep yawn and a slow stretch, Randler gently pulled himself apart from the mage.
“Good morning,” he said quietly, turning to face Frast. “Sleep well?”
“I—um, yes, thanks. You?”
“Not bad. It was helpful having the swallomers out there,” Randler acknowledged.
“I suppose so, though I felt better that you were here.” He tried not to blush, but his cheeks gave his feelings away anyway.
Randler smiled softly. “Clearly, you were rather comfortable. You slept soundly.”
Frast’s face burned a deeper crimson yet. “I—I’m sorry for grabbing you so tightly.”
He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to do it—maybe it was because he had needed support once too—but Randler pulled Frast’s hand into his own and held it tightly. He leaned in and gently kissed the mage’s cheek, telling him without words that there was nothing wrong with mage’s feelings but that they were not reciprocated. At first, Frast didn’t understand. He tried to pursue Randler’s lips but the minstrel smiled and teased him instead. “Now, now, we have a journey ahead of us today.”
Randler didn’t think Frast’s face could burn any redder, but he was wrong. “We could… start off a little… later, if you want.” Frast tightened his grip of Randler’s hand, sliding his thumb gently back and forth.
“Frast, I’m sorry,” Randler shook his head slowly. “If circumstances were a little different, then maybe. But my heart is elsewhere. I can’t do this. It wouldn’t be right.”
To his credit, Frast took it well. “I know, Randler. I know. I just… I’ve never met anyone like you. I—” He paused to gather his thoughts, then he sighed. “I know I shouldn’t finish that thought.”
“Which thought?” he asked.
Frast chuckled once, then smiled oddly. “The one where I list all the things I like about you.” He stared into Randler’s cinnamon eyes and then he looked away. “You even charmed the birds into keeping us safe. Any idea how we should thank them?”
Randler accepted the diversionary question and hummed in thought. “I guess we’ll have to protect them, too. Come on, let’s get started.” He sat up and pushed aside the tarp, which startled a few of their avian friends, but they settled quickly. Randler stood up and stretched into the morning sun. “We can eat as we go,” he decided.
“Sure,” Frast agreed, trying not to think about the way Randler moved as he stretched.
The day started off well and few beasts approached them at all, which was a welcome relief. Randler wondered idly if it was the complement of swallomers that kept the enemies at bay or perhaps the defeated lupino clan had spread the word that these two men were not to be trifled with.
They had enough food for five days’ worth of travel, but they realized after the second day that it wouldn’t be enough to get them to the tower and back. Because it was only the two of them, and neither was a stout warrior with endless stamina, they couldn’t make the journey in the same amount of time as before. All told, four days passed them by before they approached their destination.
Though Magehaven was tall, its security field kept it obscured from view. With the recent attack on the tower, defenses were heightened and Randler already knew that they would have a hard time discerning its exact location until they were very near. His eye for detail scoured the lay of the land and he judged that they had a few hours more before they would be near enough to the tower to start enacting their plan. He thought of the swallomer swarm and grinned. It felt to him like luck would be on his side for this journey. The birds had periodically flown off, presumably to hunt, but they always returned to the bard, particularly when he would sing.
As the afternoon waned on the fourth day, they paused briefly to eat and then continued onward until at last they were close enough to the tower. Frast opened his pack and pulled forth the beige tarp. He made sure he gripped it tightly for its color matched the sand so closely he would lose it if he let go. Randler unpacked his lute, a flute, and a small drum. Then he helped to enwrap Frast in the sand-colored cloth until he was neatly obscured from view.
“I hope they don’t use that life force spell again,” Frast muttered. “It would ruin this whole endeavor.”
“They won’t. Or if they do, it won’t matter. Remember? It stopped working once we were beyond the defensive border. It won’t reach us.” Randler eyed Frast sharply and then poked and prodded him until the shadowy folds of cloth were smoothed out. It required much fondling for the cloth to sit properly and Frast stood there, his face burning brighter and brighter with each pull and tuck of the cloth. Randler noted the mage’s reaction and he sighed in mock exasperation. “Now, now, don’t you look adorable, dressed as a lump of sand.”
“I—” He stopped himself, realizing that he was blushing. “Okay, okay, I’m ready. Forgive me for getting caught up in the moment. It’s been keeping me from being nervous. Okay? But I’m ready for this. The plan is still set. We’ve got this.”
“Do you have all your spell components ready?” Randler smiled, hoping Frast truly was prepared. There wouldn’t be a second chance and if the mages discovered the ruse before he managed to get in to the tower, then Dariak would be lost to him. Thinking about it, he wondered what kept himself so calm, considering what lay ahead. He turned away from Frast, as if searching for the answer.
“It’s all ready,” Frast assured him. “Are we waiting for nightfall or is dusk close enough?”
When Randler turned back, his face was grave. “It’s now, actually. Look over there.” He pointed off in the distance toward the northeast.
They were far enough away not to be a hindrance yet, but clearly a contingent of soldiers was approaching. Their heads were beyond some of the dunes and they seemed to be marching with purpose, though they weren’t racing ahead. Randler wondered if it was a security patrol or if the mages in the tower had summoned support from the king after the recent events. Luckily, he and Frast were to the west of the troop and so they were lost in the sunlight and went unseen by the approaching forces. Additionally, late afternoon was a good feeding time for the swallomers and they were away, unseen.
“No time to waste, Frast. Let’s get to it. Once I’m inside, I beg of you to run for safety. Don’t let them see you.” He grabbed the mage’s shoulders firmly as if doing so would keep him safe when he would need it most.
Frast controlled the urge to grab Randler into an embrace, fearing he would try to sneak a kiss if he did so. Instead he sharply nodded his head and dove into the necessary spellcasting. He started by squashing a dead spider between his thumb and forefinger and tracing a pattern in the air, “Sesspinnar trallin uluf callinor.” He traced the spider’s remains around his own lips, shrugging off the discomfort. After that, he established a protective ward with a shard of glass, like Dariak had done countless times. Randler withdrew a hollow ball from his pocket, which had already been severed into two even halves. He held them aloft while Frast enchanted them.
“Echkinar repeallio modicallium fasthris binniar.” He then took one of the halves and pocketed it, handing the other half to Randler. Frast enacted a few more spells, trying to ignore the approaching army and the upcoming task. Remaining focused, they completed their preparations and then glanced once toward the northeast, ensuring they still had time before the soldiers arrived. It would be close.
The air shimmered slightly to the west and Frast could feel the pull of the barrier that surrounded Magehaven. He approached as closely as he dared and then signaled for Randler to stand there. He stepped behind the bard, slightly off to one side, and dropped low. The sandy tarp tucked all around his body blended perfectly with the sand and Randler made only a few last adjustments to keep the man hidden. He then lifted his lute and strummed a few piercing notes.
“Behold, mages of
the tower. I come with knowledge that you seek!” Randler bellowed aloud. He strummed a few more notes. “Admit me peacefully, and I will share with you my knowledge.”
It didn’t take long to receive an answer. “There is no knowledge in your head that will improve upon the stores of information in our vast library! Be gone from here before we share some of that knowledge with you. I assure you, it will hurt.”
Randler was undaunted. He strummed his lute and sang briefly.
The fires of the sun, upon the earth they turn.
See them twisting, writhing there, suddenly they burn.
On command, a swirling column of flame erupted from the ground, and as Randler strummed lower notes, the fire tilted to the left. When he twanged on the upper register, the flames danced to the right. He then played a looping pattern and the flames moved and spiraled around him. He released the lute strings and as the music fell silent, so too did the flames die away.
“What trickery is this?” cried the tower mage.
“No trickery, I assure you. I have studied the patterns of energy and of sound and I have found a unique connection that no other has ever exploited.” He wasn’t even lying by much. His Trial in the tower had shown him a connection, but also his time with Kitalla had shown him another. It was her dance skills and their ability to pull energy into a form of magic that had inspired this ruse. Of course, his music held no actual power over the energies. Instead, the music was Frast’s cue for which spells to utilize and how to manipulate them. The spider remnants on Frast’s lips trapped the sounds within his mouth, keeping him essentially silent.
When the tower mage stood transfixed and doubting, Randler lifted the drum and rapped a staccato beat.
Barrier of magic, strong and tall
blocks your foes, one and all.
With these notes, I do command:
now before you, here I stand.
With that, Randler stepped toward the protective barrier, hoping the mages had not altered its magic. Upon his first passing through the barrier, his body had been ripped away from Dariak and the others and they had been subjected to individual Trials. Randler surmised that he wouldn’t be carted off to an additional Trial because he had already completed one. It was the same reasoning why Dariak hadn’t undergone another Trial. The tower mage didn’t recognize Randler from his previous visit, and so he wouldn’t realize that the bard would not be tested. So Randler hoped.
He kept his doubt from his face and posture as he took those steps forward, but no invisible force whisked him away, and the mage at the door stood agape that this bard could so easily pass their defenses. He called over his shoulder for help from within. Randler waited patiently until the help arrived. There was no need to rush things now, even with soldiers approaching the tower.
Randler kept himself composed even as the help arrived in the form of Master Pyron. The old mage snarled when he saw the bard. “It is foolish of you to return here.”
Only years of training kept Randler’s voice strong. “I came seeking an exchange.”
The mage brimmed with hatred and disgust. Randler didn’t know of the death of Kerrish or how that had imperiled Dariak, but he sensed a great danger here. Still, he couldn’t leave without trying and if the mage killed Randler as well as Dariak, at least they would be together in the afterlife, if one existed.
Pyron glared viciously. “You have nothing with which to barter.”
Randler had hoped to be admitted inside after duping a lesser mage. He didn’t think the musical ruse would work against a master, but he had to try it anyway. “Watch, then.” As he lifted his lute, Pyron instinctively raised some additional defenses around himself. Randler strummed a set of notes and then sang aloud.
Even when the ground is dry, there’s moisture in the air.
Pull it, drag it, summon it, and it appears right there.
A few paces in front of Randler a small puddle of water appeared. As with the fire column moments before, when he played different notes on the lute, the water moved in unison, this time jumping upward in the desired direction and splattering back to the puddle.
The expression on Pyron’s face belied his curiosity. “A trick,” he decided, just like the tower mage, who was still watching the show. “I felt the energies enacted, yes. But something is amiss here.”
Randler was ready with his response. “It seems amiss because you have not seen it before. You feel the energies because they come from me.” This, too, was almost true. Frast was casting his spells into the half sphere he had enchanted, and the other half in Randler’s possession projected the energies back out, while the spider spell kept Frast’s voice hidden.
Pyron was clearly intrigued by the concept but he wasn’t convinced. “Let us pretend for a moment that this ‘skill’ of yours is real. Is this what you propose to exchange?”
“It is,” he agreed, surprised at being asked this so soon.
“And for what do you bargain?”
“Dariak’s freedom,” he answered firmly.
Pyron didn’t respond immediately. “What good is your knowledge to me? We have the ability to cast spells without the need of silly instruments.” To demonstrate he gestured with his hands and launched a set of ice darts in Randler’s direction.
Trusting entirely to Frast’s defensive spells, Randler only grabbed his drum and beat a tense pattern upon its surface. The ice darts struck the air in front of the bard and shattered, leaving Randler unscathed.
The minstrel commented flippantly, “Did I mention that I do not need the words and that I was merely singing them so you would know what to expect? Shall I demonstrate another?” Pyron immediate swept his arms up into what Randler recognized as another defensive spell. “You need not fear me harming you, Master Pyron. After all, if I injured you, who would honor my plea?”
“Who indeed?” the old mage growled.
Randler and Frast had worked on nearly two dozen different spells to enact during this exchange, but when Randler lifted his flute and played a jaunty tune, he did not expect the results. Instead of a harmless dancing ball of light, a flock of twittering birds appeared. The music had apparently carried itself to the swallomer flock and they fled their resting place and came to Randler’s side. He kept himself in check as they arrived, pretending he had summoned them directly.
“Foolishness,” Pyron harrumphed. He lifted his hands, calling upon the beast jade that rested within the tower and he threw the energies over the swallomers to bid them to fly away. However, their connection to Randler and his music was stronger and the master mage was unable to deflect the birds as they flew toward him. “What is this?” Pyron gasped, trying to control the flock to make the birds deviate from their flight path, but despite his experience with the beast jade, he could not affect the flock.
Randler whistled into the flute, hoping the swallomers would turn aside and not attack the mage, for that would be disastrous to his plot. The birds heard the change in the tempo and they stopped, trying to discern its meaning. From the positions of Randler and the mages, it seemed as if the bard was under attack, and they wanted to protect him. They chirped in confusion and flew back to Randler, hovering over his head in great circles. He hummed the lullaby he had sung to Frast a few days earlier and the birds picked up the tune and sang along.
“Perhaps we should speak after all,” Pyron said hesitantly.
Before he agreed, Randler made one demand. “Show me that Dariak is well and then I will share my knowledge with you.”
Pyron laughed aloud. “Perhaps we’ll just surround you once you are inside and torture you until you reveal your knowledge.”
Randler shook his head in disappointment. “Very well then, I will depart and spread word of my findings to all the populace of the land. I will teach all people to draw upon the energies through the use of music and when I return, I will collapse this tower, and all the mages across the land will be obsolete.”
The threat struck Pyron deeply. “You wouldn’t
!”
“Nor would you disgrace the mages in your care by treating me with anything other than courtesy. Not that it would matter, with what I know.”
Conflict warred across the mage’s face. Though he still had doubts of Randler’s apparent skill, if it was real he couldn’t chance its knowledge reaching the masses. The sheer aplomb of the bard was unnerving. Clearly, the minstrel had learned much on his last visit to the tower.
They stared intently at each other for several minutes while the mage decided. The swallomers grew bored and found perches along the crevices of Magehaven. It was an unintended act that pushed Pyron’s decision in Randler’s favor, for if the birds felt so comfortable resting on the walls, then Randler’s skill might be more powerful than he had let on. The thirst for this unbidden knowledge won out. The old mage muttered instructions to the other mages who had gathered at the doors by then.
“Very well, bard. You will enter under my protection. Yet your actions will be scrutinized upon entry.”
“Indeed,” Randler said easily. “I will cause no harm to your fellows nor steal any of your treasures or secrets. I am not here for them. I am here for Dariak and you will give him to me of your own accord. My knowledge for his freedom.”
Pyron hesitated, for he had no intention of releasing the murderer, but he yearned to know of this link between the music and the energies. “I have agreed only to show him to you unharmed. The rest… we will see.”
“Fair enough,” Randler shrugged carelessly. He hadn’t expected even this much cooperation up front and it was only when Pyron cast a few odd glances to the swallomers that the bard realized that they were the impetus for this exchange. “Thank you friends,” he muttered softly.
As he passed by old Pyron, he heard one of the other mages whispering to her elder, “Master Pyron, the king’s guard approaches.”
“My eyes function, Nera,” he said sourly, not taking his eyes off of Randler. “We shall deal with our visitor with haste so that we may accommodate the guard.”
The Shattered Shards Page 29