The Shattered Shards

by Stephen J Wolf

  In her mind, she pictured a vast, open landscape. The trees swayed serenely in the breeze and bent low when the wind gusted. Flowers followed the dance of the trees yet when the wind kicked up high the petals released from their birthing homes and floated into the air, carried delicately by the wind. Crimson, gold, white, and lavender all fluttered around one another wildly. The colors blended into a fleeting rainbow that was gone all too soon. A deep longing followed their sudden flight away and a misty rain fell from the heavens, like tears of sorrow for the loss.

  Kitalla’s body and mind worked in unison to maintain the imagery as she moved about, now otherwise defenseless. She had full faith in her companions to protect her, but there was little need. The master mages were enthralled and Frast was able to break through their defensive barrier without much effort. It was as if the weaving itself had unraveled and invited him within. He and Randler wasted no time knocking the mages to the ground, stunning them to unconsciousness.

  A great sense of warmth ran through Kitalla. It was a sensation she had felt before, though it had never been this pronounced. Her belly twittered and she touched it gently, protectively. The sensation suddenly irked her and reminded her of the horrors she had been forced to relive as part of her Trial here. The pain of loss would always be with her, but using her skills now suddenly felt so right. So completing. Not even the memory of the death of her unborn child could ruin this sense of contentment. Some part of her had felt it before, but it had always been blocked beneath the memories she had fought to deny.

  She knew there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, she set the thoughts aside, not intending to bury them this time; just to keep them waiting until she could explore them.

  Randler was looking at her oddly, wondering at her hesitation, but she smiled drolly and shrugged before running off ahead.

  They had reached the inner sanctum, finally, where the jades were stored. Frast was already puzzling over the defensive wards that protected the jade, but Kitalla gently nudged him aside. She still held the fire and metal jades in her hands, and now she reached them before her, pointing them toward their missing comrade on its pedestal in the center of the room. She felt the energy coursing through her and pulling her closer to the middle. Frast intervened, and rightly so. Even two more steps and an explosive fireball would have engulfed them all.

  Randler felt a similar pull from the shadow and air jades. He pulled them from his pocket and held them aloft as Kitalla did. Their four jades emanated powerfully and the pulsations coursed through his whole body. He subconsciously started tapping his foot to the rhythm.

  The lonely jade in the center of the room called to its brethren, longing to be reunited with them. Its power radiated sharply from its perch, almost crying out to be rescued. Kitalla couldn’t bear it any more. She stepped forward, escaping Frast’s attempted block. It didn’t matter. The metal jade drew the harmful energies away, and those that could not be drained were burned by the fire jade.

  Frast stepped back in awe. “If you could only see the energies,” he murmured to Randler. “It is almost as if she is a conduit for the energies in this room. They cannot touch her, not harmfully anyway. It’s… uncanny.”

  The bard nodded. “The jades call for each other. They protect their masters, too. Whether it’s because she has two jades or some other reason, they are working in unison to reunite. Frast, don’t get too distracted. We aren’t likely to be alone here for long.”

  “Indeed,” he nodded. “And once the mages who have been calling on this jade for support can no longer do so, this place is going to become even more dangerous.”

  Despite Randler’s warning, the two of them couldn’t tear their eyes from Kitalla’s deliberate advance toward the central pedestal. Frast watched as the threads of energy in the room alternately dissipated or absorbed themselves into Kitalla with each step. As he observed more closely, he reaffirmed that the energies were not going into Kitalla exactly, but the metal jade was channeling the energy and it was then coursing through her body safely.

  Her hand touched the jade on the pedestal. The beast jade. She could hear a slight growling from within it as she held it, or perhaps just a low vibration; she didn’t know. The glossy surface felt like several textures all at once; feather, fur, leather, skin, claw. It was all there. This jade would give dominion over the feral creatures. It was different than Dariak’s nature jade, which connected its energies to inanimate life. Yet she knew instinctively as she held the new jade that it would have no power over people.

  No power over minds. It meant that her dance skill would still be unique. Somehow that seemed important to her, but she also knew that now was not the time to dwell upon it. She set the thoughts aside as the defenses in the room collapsed.

  She blinked at Randler and Frast as if waking from a slight trance, then took a deep breath and released it, but it was Frast who spoke, a slightly dour expression on his face. “I was hoping both jades would still be here.”

  Kitalla nodded slowly. “That means trouble for Dariak. Let’s get going.”

  Chapter 33

  Rush of Honor

  The feelings burned within Gabrion as he and the others were led through the hallway and toward the castle’s exit. Part of him felt completely dead inside, but not all of him. He knew deep within himself that Mira’s memory had somehow been altered. He didn’t know how it was possible, but it had to be so. There were no rumors of such magic, yet it was all that made any sense to him. Besides, hadn’t he seen strange things happen with magic? Hadn’t Kitalla’s dance skills influenced his own mind?

  Perhaps he could reach Mira’s true memory if he just talked to her, but the king’s tone was definite. He wouldn’t get another chance to see her. There was no time to act but this very moment.

  Four guards ushered them forward and although everyone was silent, Gabrion decided that he had come too far to quit now. He had to know for certain. He needed to try.

  “Quereth, Morrish,” he said lowly and calmly, “tell Ervinor to prepare for attack.”

  “What?” Quereth gasped.

  Gabrion didn’t hesitate. He stumbled awkwardly and crashed to the floor in a heap. Two guards pushed Quereth and Morrish ahead while the other two berated the young warrior’s clumsiness and knelt over to hoist him onto his feet. They barely drew close before Gabrion lunged back up and tackled them both fully, clobbering them with outstretched arms and swallowing them with his assault.

  The other two guards reacted promptly, shoving their captives off-balance and then turning to defend against the warrior. Morrish recovered and turned to fight, but Quereth denied him the chance. “No! We mustn’t! Morrish, we must get out of here!”

  “But—”

  Gabrion grabbed a guard’s arm and heaved the man around behind himself and then turned to reach for the next one. He eyed his hesitant comrades and called out. “Get out of here! Alert Ervinor! Immediately!” He ducked a sword swipe and leaned forward to punch the assailant in the stomach. “Now!”

  Quereth shoved Morrish ahead of him as the guards called out an alarm. The soldier bolted onward at last, lowering his head and barreling his way toward the door in the distance. He didn’t turn to ensure that Quereth was with him, for Gabrion had commanded them both to flee and he knew the old man would be right behind him.

  But he was wrong. Quereth rooted himself where he stood once he saw that Morrish was on his way. He then fumbled through his robes and withdrew whatever spell components came to his fingers and from those he crafted a number of spells.

  Gabrion was both angry and relieved. This was supposed to his fight. His rebellion against the injustice. His rescue of his beloved Mira. Quereth had no right to interfere, not even to make his mission a success. Yet at the same time, Gabrion knew he would be overwhelmed without help.

  Ice darts flashed through the air and lanced into a guardsman that was charging for Gabrion. The warrior had already started a defensive attack but he shifted his weight an
d brought his sword toward the next target. The guard was caught unawares and took a slice to the cheek, which enraged him. He shouted ferociously and tightened his grip on his sword, charging Gabrion with all his strength. It was a foolish move, and one that Andron had trained Gabrion to defend back in Savvron. Battles were better fought with a clear head, not anger. Gabrion parried the strike and kicked his foot out, tripping the emotional guard and casting him to the floor. What Gabrion didn’t anticipate was the counterstrike from the falling guardsman, but the warrior pounced over the attack and was left unscathed.

  Quereth’s casting continued as Gabrion dodged about. Finding three spiders, the mage used aged sap from a tree with a complex incantation and as he stretched the doughy sap, the spiders grew in size, their pincers clicking in anticipation. Quereth set them on the guards that were starting to arrive then turned his mind toward the next spell.

  Gabrion pulled himself away from the growing pile of bodies that were falling around him. The narrow hallway kept the guards from completely surrounding him, but it made escape nearly impossible. Still, he did his best to incapacitate the defenders without killing them. They may have aligned themselves with this king, but perhaps if they had a choice they may turn their services elsewhere, as had the citizens of Marritosh.

  “Whatever you’re planning to do,” Quereth gasped between spells, “you’d best get on with it. This place isn’t defensible for long and more guards are on their way.” He shot a fire dart down the hallway to intercept an archer. “And they’re not just swordsmen any more. Gabrion, it won’t be long before the mages arrive. You must move!”

  He debated quickly. Whether he left now or saw this through to the end, the king would retaliate by firing on Gabrion’s army outside. He had to finish it. “Quereth, go! You’re needed out there with the rest.”

  “You’re a fool if you think I’m leaving you to deal with this on your own.” He moved his arms in a wide circle and Gabrion thought he actually recognized some of the words the old man uttered. Indeed, it was a protection spell very similar to the ones Dariak had used on him. “Stand there any longer and I may kick you myself to get you to move!”

  Gabrion nodded, then tightened his grip on his sword. He drew a deep breath and then ran back toward the throne room, his legs pumping powerfully and carrying him more swiftly than Quereth could follow. The mage gave chase, hoping to offer continued support, but he had his own troubles soon enough. Reinforcements arrived from side halls and Quereth was hard-pressed to stop them.

  The mage drew an empty vial from his pocket and cast a spell, then smashed the glass to the floor. As it shattered, the bits of glass spread out finely and created a powdery coating on the ground. Quereth then added an icy layer atop the fragments and the floor became slick. The rushing guards pounded inward and lost their footing on the slippery surface, tumbling half a dozen of them in a heap. The mage did not wait for them to recover. He ran after Gabrion.

  The warrior, however, was beyond the mage’s reach. He had already crested the archway into the throne room, much to the dismay of those inside. Twenty guardsmen and four mages erupted from their posts to protect the king, who had been pacing the room as he sorted out the recent events. Gabrion swept his sword side to side and sought a clear passage across the chamber. Five guards surrounded the king defensively, but Gabrion wasn’t heading for them. Instead, he sought the rear left exit and the door that would lead to Mira.

  Adrenaline rushed through him as he bolted across the chamber. Six guards intercepted him, but he barreled through, ignoring the cuts and scrapes he earned from them. His sword lashed out and crashed into them, bruising and stunning, but not killing them. He didn’t even think about it. He knew why.

  The glass jade in his pocket was beating fiercely with each pulse of his heart. He knew it was going to protect him, as it had at every turn on his journey since the elder of Gerrish had given it to him. Its power wasn’t unlimited, thus after the jade had freed him from Heria’s bindings, she had been able to strike him. He knew for now that sword thrusts from the guards would be turned aside because he would simply cut through them, and because he did not want to harm any of them in the process, the jade blunted his blade so that his attacks would not be fatal.

  Ice darts, fire bolts, ensnaring webs all flew at Gabrion from the mages, but he had survived the fighting within Magehaven where the spellfire was much more concentrated. These attempts would not stop him. He would find Mira. He would find her and he would help her to understand. He pressed onward.

  As Gabrion approached the door, he heard two simultaneous shouts, but he couldn’t focus on either one. His objective was clear. He dug his heels in and eluded two more guards on his way to the door.

  “He isn’t alone!” echoed one of the guardsmen by the main entrance to the throne.

  “He is after the queen!” shouted the king. “Stop him! Kill him!”

  The spells launched in his direction increased in intensity, but his magic armor defeated the potency of the spells. His skin tingled with numbness from the electric blasts, and he felt the heat from an exploding fireball, but it was more like he was reliving a tale told by a great bard, rather than feeling any of it himself. It was a curious sensation, but the door was approaching and he needed to invade it deftly.

  He punched a guard in the face and ducked under another’s sword, while still making his way forward. A guard from the rear of the room cut his poleax through the air and it connected solidly with Gabrion’s chest. The strike should have killed him.

  But the glass jade did its job perfectly. As the large weapon touched Gabrion, the warrior’s body sharpened immensely. He was knocked back a few steps from the impact, but the weapon itself shattered to limitless pieces and the astounded guard just looked at the remnants in utter bewilderment. Three other attacks met Gabrion with the same reaction and the king cried out in horror.

  “What foul magic is this? What are you, demon?” He waved a hand outward and three more men charged Gabrion with all their might, but each attack fell impotently away and the warrior was essentially untouched. “There isn’t protective armor that strong!” the king raged. “Who are you?”

  The attacks on Gabrion ceased as the guards and mages realized that he could not be harmed. They encircled him with their weapons ready, as if some sign would tell them if he became vulnerable, but it was fruitless. The king, too, realized this.

  “Stop,” he called out to his guards. “Lay down your weapons.” He stepped toward Gabrion. “I do not understand your defenses, young warrior. But I do see now that we are helpless before you. State your demands that I may entreat with you and have you gone from this place.”

  Gabrion eyed the king menacingly. “You have showered me with lies and accusations. Why would I believe you now?”

  The king narrowed his eyes and focused intently upon Gabrion. “Clearly, yours is a skill unknown to my castle. You have cut through every defense you’ve encountered thus far. I obviously have no way of stopping you. Yet, even on this rampage of yours, you haven’t killed a single one of my men.” He struggled with his next words, as if they were hard to say. “I would rather deal with you rationally before you turn your power into a killing force and eradicate my defenses.”

  “My intent here was never to kill anyone or to start a war,” Gabrion said, lowering his sword but keeping it in hand. “I told you earlier that my intent was to find a means of ending the wars between our kingdoms.”

  “Barging back in here in a berserker rage is hardly a proper way to communicate your intent,” the king growled.

  “Mira,” Gabrion said. “What have you done to her? How have you bemused her? I must speak with her.”

  The king’s jaw set firmly. “I don’t know that I can deny your request, given your defenses. What would you speak to her about?”

  Gabrion knew the king was stalling, but he didn’t care. Nothing was going to stop him from his goal. “She must know the truth of what happened to our hometow
n. She must understand that this…” and he gestured around, unable to find the words, “…is all a farce.”

  “Hardly,” the king muttered. “You claim she is bemused, but perhaps you’re a fool. Perhaps you’re mistaken. Speaking to her will offer you no solace.”

  Gabrion straightened his back ever so slightly. The king recoiled in honest fear, unsure if the young man would attack. “Lead me to her or don’t. Either way, I will speak to her.”

  They stared at each other intently and at last the king conceded. “Very well, young one. I will bring you to her, but prepare yourself. You may not hear what you are hoping to hear.” The king ignored the protests of the guards and he strode to the door, opening it and stepping through with Gabrion close behind.

  They walked through a series of passages, greeted by confused soldiers along the way. They eyed Gabrion suspiciously, but the king demanded compliance. The corridors were all fortified with stone but most were decorated with lavish wooden struts and beams that were purely aesthetic. Flowers lined various alcoves, bringing a soft fragrance into the castle, while scented oils burned softly, adding their perfume as well as light to the path. Gabrion, however, saw only the path ahead.

  As they reached the end of the journey, Gabrion heard singing. It was slightly muffled, for it emanated through a door, but it was clearly a song he had heard before. The voice wavered as if it was upset, but he recognized it as Mira’s.

  Sleep my beloved for night has come to us.

  Close your dear eyes and turn your thoughts inside.