The Consuls of the Vicariate

by Brian Kittrell

  Two lines of militia soldiers stood on either side of a deep red carpet that ran under the massive archway and into the chamber beyond. As Laedron and his party passed, each pair of militiamen presented their spears and held them high.

  Entering the chamber itself, Laedron glanced at the gallery of consuls, all of them wearing their gaudy ceremonial garb. Jurgen waved and gestured for Laedron to approach.

  Standing in the center of the ringed chamber, Jurgen spread his arms wide and said, “Our saviors. Today is a joyous day indeed.” He wrapped his arm around Laedron’s shoulders. “We have much to thank them for, and this ceremony shall be the first way we show our gratitude. The second way is in the form of this bag.” Jurgen waved his hand at two guards, one of them carrying a leather backpack.

  When the guard came forward, Jurgen said, “This is your payment for a job well done, my friends.”

  Laedron took the sack and smiled. “Thank you. We appreciate your generosity.”

  “We appreciate you, my friend.” Jurgen turned to the consuls. “And I, as your Grand Vicar—”

  The world seemed to slow to a halt, and Laedron couldn’t help but smile. The culmination of Jurgen’s life. He made it.

  “—recognize these as heroes of our church. May a feast be held this day in their honor at the Vicariate Palace and throughout the city of Azura.” Jurgen turned to Laedron. “Come, you will walk at my side.”

  Laedron followed Jurgen up a staircase to the Grand Vicar’s platform, then out onto the open walkway leading to the palace. A roar of applause came from the thousands gathered on either side of the platform. Jurgen kept the stride slow, the speed of his step in keeping with that of a parade, and when they arrived in the great hall of the Vicariate Palace, nobility from all over the city, perhaps the whole country, judging by the number, were gathered to welcome them. A series of long tables ran the length of the hall, every surface completely obscured by platters of delectable food.

  Jurgen led them through the packed room. Like a ship cutting through the waves, Jurgen caused the gathered nobles to make way at their passing. Taking his seat, Jurgen gestured for Laedron and his friends to rest upon the plush chairs.

  “The servants will be along shortly with food,” Jurgen said, leaning toward Laedron.

  “Congratulations are in order for you.” Laedron gave him a grin. “The consulship deemed you competent to rule it would seem.”

  “Not to rule. To serve.”

  For the first time in my life, I have faith that the church will do good things. Laedron nodded at the serving woman as she placed a plate in front of him. With Jurgen at the helm, I can’t see them doing anything foolish.

  Exchanging smiles with Valyrie, Laedron nibbled at his food. He found it difficult to eat, and his friends apparently felt the same way because they all ate carefully. He felt the constant glare of eyes upon him, the nobles watching every move, every subtle gesture. Now I know why royals look so weary. It’s not out of boredom; it’s to keep anyone from guessing what they might be thinking.

  Part of the way through the meal, Laedron detected the sound of music coming from somewhere in the crowd. The tune picked up, and the nobles parted like wheat in the breeze to reveal a band of musicians and dancers.

  “For your entertainment, my lords and ladies!” the lute player shouted, strumming.

  With his emphatic thrum of the melody, the dancers became animated. Though the waltz was tasteful and elegant, Laedron could tell that his friends were disinterested with the performance. He kept from bursting with laughter when he thought, What do you expect, Marac? We’re fortunate to see dancing at a church function in the first place!

  More people joined in with the dancing, but Laedron hesitated when he thought about asking Valyrie to dance. His enjoyment of dancing notwithstanding, Laedron thought it would be better if he didn’t embarrass himself—or her—with blundering around in front of the entirety of high Heraldan society.

  * * *

  When the party had died down and he didn’t feel as many eyes upon him, Laedron leaned over to Jurgen and said, “Might we ask a favor of you?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “We require transportation to Nessadene. Would you mind asking Master Hale if we could pass on one of his ships?”

  “I don’t see him having a problem with such a proposition.” Jurgen gestured for a page and whispered something to boy who came forward.

  The page disappeared into the sea of guests. When he returned moments later, he had Demetrius Hale in tow. “Master Hale, Your Holiness.”

  “Master Hale,” Jurgen said, “we have need of your services.”

  “Whatever Your Holiness commands.” Demetrius dipped his head, his hand over his heart.

  “Can you arrange for my friends to travel by one of your ships to Nessadene?”

  “Why, yes, Sire. We would have little problem arranging that. When?”

  “In the morning, or as soon as you can manage,” Laedron said.

  “We have nothing going that way within the week, but we have spare ships.” Demetrius tapped his fingers together, seemingly deep in thought. “The Galerunner. We can make it ready to leave before midday.”

  “Would that be acceptable?” Jurgen asked.

  Laedron nodded. “Yes, that will do.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Jurgen stood, raising his goblet and tapping it with a spoon. Eventually, the room grew silent. “Let us have a toast to our friends before they depart. May their journeys be safe and carry them home to gentler times.”

  “Thank you,” Laedron said, standing and taking a sip of his wine. Valyrie and the others rose, as well. “I could live the rest of my life gladly to never see such times as these again.”

  Jurgen patted him on the back. “Well said.”

  “Only the truth of the matter.” Laedron glanced at his friends, then back at Jurgen. “May the Creator keep you safe.”

  * * *

  Once he had returned to the Shimmering Dawn headquarters and his friends had split off into their respective rooms, Laedron was alone in his quarters once again. No quiet knock ever came upon his door, and he realized that he would be left by himself. Does she find me repulsive? he wondered.

  Might as well get after it, then. Perhaps I can experiment a bit tonight with a new spell. But what kind, and would it work? Am I capable of creating something from nothingness? He licked his lips and stared at the blank sheet of paper.

  Taking a lesson from every other invention he’d encountered, Laedron examined his tomes closely and looked for spells that might combine together in a pleasing manner. I want to create something different altogether. Something never considered, at least as far as I know. He scrawled notes, drawing concentric circles out from a common focal point. Then, he drew a line from the center point outward, intersecting his other lines.

  I know a spell for every kind of energy, for every offensive purpose. He recalled all of Ismerelda’s teachings in an attempt to compare the things he had learned against new ideas, new possibilities. Then he thought about the attack at the academy and how so many had died in the assault with no way to escape. Escape. A means of avoidance or retreat.

  He began writing in his own spellbook. In times of immediate danger, a sorcerer must be prepared for any possibility. Even when a mage finds himself trapped with no obvious means of egress, he must find a way out. Thus, I propose to study such a means by use of magic.

  Below the entry, he drew three circles . Then, he scribbled a black dot in the center of each one, and gazed at them for some time. Connecting the dots with a line, he put his head in his hands and considered the shapes.

  An idea jumped into his head, and Laedron flipped open the tomes and searched any similar or related spells. With four books laid out before him, he glanced at the pages, then began writing again.

  First, the subject must be made incorporeal. The lack of physical substance would make escape far easier. Second, the location to which one escapes m
ust be well known and familiar—and probably nearby. Third, travel between the points should be instantaneous .

  He stopped. Instantaneous. Instant travel? From one place to another?

  Using a logical flow, he combined words of power of similar spells until he had produced a formulaic representation of the effect he desired. He stood in the center of the room and presented his rod. He focused upon himself and concentrated on the spell, but then, he stopped.

  “What in the hells am I doing?” he asked aloud. He had been about to cast a new and unproven spell on himself, with the possibilities unknown and potentially destructive.

  Spotting an empty candlestick on his nightstand, he focused on it instead. The candlestick sparkled with energy as he chanted, then it disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, hovering in the air. It plummeted to the floor with the clank of silver against stone. He crouched and examined the candlestick. He found no noticeable differences in it.

  He concentrated on the candlestick once more and repeated the spell, focusing on the great hall at the bottom of the stairs. With a flick of his wrist, the candlestick disappeared in a sparkle of white light. He quickly descended the stairs and found the candleholder a few feet from the spot he had tried to send it.

  Now, to test it for distance. He closed his eyes and pictured the common room of the former Shimmering Dawn headquarters. Casting the spell again, Laedron watched the glints of light on the silver until the candleholder vanished.

  He took to the streets. After running for some time, he stopped in front of the old chapel. His heartbeat slowed, and he couldn’t feel the burn in his muscles. In fact, he felt well rested even though he had just finished a run across the city. What other surprises shall I face from this rejuvenation spell?

  Laedron entered the chapel and searched the common hall. The coals of the fireplace had grown cold without someone tending them, and the place seemed more deplorable without people and activity. He located the candlestick beneath the dining table and closely inspected it.

  Finding the candlestick to be pristine, he sighed. The moment of truth. He knew that he had to cast the spell on himself, and it had to work to be useful for escape. After all, moving a candlestick across an entire city would give cheap thrills to a crowd, but the performance had little utilitarian value. He had to know if the spell could carry people across such distances.

  He took a deep breath to steel his resolve and firmly grasped the scepter. Closing his eyes, he recited the incantation, waving his rod to and fro and imagining the great hall of the Shimmering Dawn across the city. It must be somewhere I've seen before, somewhere I'm familiar with. Though he didn't know if it would help, he tried to center his concentration on a spot above the ground. He would be more than a little upset if he appeared in the hall with half of his body in the stone floor or a wall. Once he was confident, he flicked his wrist.

  The world was suddenly replaced by a torrent of swirling color, but he could see the buildings along the route flash as he passed. His entire body felt as though it was being yanked in ten different directions, and he thought his head might spin off at any moment. He caught a glimpse of the morning light before he vomited the contents of his stomach onto a beautiful rug, then his body heaved uncontrollably. Eventually, he lay on the floor, not even caring if his face was in the vomit, and he savored the cool stone against his cheek. The flashing colors still clouding his vision confused him and made it impossible to tell if he had arrived in the real world or somewhere else entirely, and he couldn’t recognize the walls or the floor. Maker… where am I? What have I done?

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  ← Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Five →

  Upon the Sea of Pillars

  Lae! What in the heavens are you doing?”

  Laedron couldn't respond since his body was still busy convulsing and trying to expel food that was no longer there to expel.

  Marac crouched next to him, putting a hand on Laedron's shoulder. “Lae, are you all right?”

  “What was that?” Valyrie asked.

  “I don't know,” Marac replied. “There was a flash of light, and he just… appeared.”

  “Appeared?” Stepping over the vomit, Valyrie fell to her knees on the other side of Laedron. “Lae? Can you hear me?”

  “I… made it.” When he heard his own voice, Laedron likened it to a handful of gravel being ground into power.

  “Made it? What in the hells is that supposed to mean?” Marac, with Valyrie's help, rolled Laedron onto his back. “What have you done?”

  “A new spell.”

  “New spell? What kind of spell?”

  Laedron turned his head and spat the foulness out of his mouth. Brice handed him a mug, and he took a swig. He used the first mouthful to rinse his mouth and spit, then he swallowed the next few.

  “I call it 'instant escape.’”

  Marac furrowed his brow. “Instant escape, eh? Looks more like ‘instant regurgitation.’”

  After taking another sip from the cup, Laedron felt his belly rumble, then he vomited again, doing his best to avoid hitting Valyrie or Marac. Afterward, he lay flat on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “Looks like I've overdone it this time.”

  “That's an understatement,” Marac said, reaching to lift him.

  “No, no.” Laedron waved his hand and wriggled away from Marac. “Not yet. Can't get up.”

  “Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself, Lae.” Marac folded his arms and stood. “We're supposed to be leaving today, and you go and do something like this?”

  “He's been restless,” Valyrie said. “Completely unable to sleep. We can't fault him for trying to find something constructive to do with his time. Oh, Lae, I should’ve stayed with you.”

  Perhaps she hasn’t grown cold to me.

  Brice shook his head. “Yes, he's found a new way to summon up two days' worth of meals and decorate the floors with them.”

  “This is no time for jokes.” Laedron turned onto his side in anticipation of more heaving, but the dizzy feeling was beginning to subside. “Oh, my head!”

  “Do you think you'll be fit to travel by midday?” Marac asked.

  Laedron started to nod, but thought better of moving his head again. “I hope so.”

  After lying on the floor for several minutes, he pressed his palms to the floor and raised himself to his knees. The dizziness had subsided, and he was left with a light-headed sensation. “Such is the way with progress. I’ll have to adjust the spell.”

  “You intend on trying this again?” Marac threw up his hands. “What if you suffer the same effects? Or worse?”

  “I’m a sorcerer, Marac. This is the sort of thing sorcerers do.”

  “I can’t see how anyone could find this attractive,” Marac replied, glancing at the pool of vomit.

  “We study magic and learn its secrets. The spells that I can perform now had to be learned and studied, and I cannot accept that what exists now is the only possibility. New magic remains uncovered, just as I’ve demonstrated.”

  Marac sighed. “Would you at least tell someone before you attempt something like this again?”

  Looking at Marac, Laedron felt some measure of guilt for having performed the spell without telling them. But they were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb anyone. He nodded, accepting the fact that his friends deserved to know his intentions. “Very well. I promise.”

  “Good.” Marac helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Care for anything to eat?”

  Laedron held up his hand, imagining what effect food might have on his upset stomach. “No, not just now. Perhaps in a while.”

  “Upstairs, then. A change of clothes and a wash would do you some good,” Marac said.

  * * *

  By the time the sun stood directly overhead, Laedron had taken a bath, changed his clothes, and eaten a light meal—soup and some greens. Hearing a coach stop outside, Laedron and the others went to the open doorway to see who had arrived.r />
  The black cab had a solitary Azuran Star on the door. After a moment, Demetrius Hale hopped down from the back. Laedron dipped his head. “Master Hale, I had no idea you would be personally seeing us off.”

  “Of course. I’ll go with you to the docks to ensure you have no problems getting aboard your ship.”

  “Then, if you don’t mind, we’ll gather our things.” Laedron ascended the stairs, gathered his things, and met the others by the cab. The coachman loaded their belongings into the trunk.

  Laedron spotted Piers and Caleb on the front steps. “Thank you for your hospitality,” Laedron said, shaking their hands. “Without you, we would not have been able to complete our mission here.”

  “Without you, we would still be milling around in the dark.” Piers handed Laedron a small leather pouch. “Take this with our thanks. May it help you on your journey.”

  “What is it?”

  “A bit of money we were able to save up. It’s not much, but perhaps it shall be enough.”

  Laedron eyed the pouch, then tried to hand it back. “We cannot take this. The order needs—”

  “You’ve given our chapter everything that we need, Sorcerer. Now, take this charity as a symbol of our appreciation.”

  Laedron nodded, then returned to the cab and climbed inside. He gave the Shimmering Dawn headquarters one last glance as the coach lurched into motion, then he prayed that the Creator would protect them in the days to come.

  “Didn’t you want to say anything to Caleb?” Laedron asked, glancing at Brice.

  “Already did. We had a long talk this morning.” Brice waved to Caleb through the window. “I hope things go well for them here.”

  “They will,” Marac said. “I’m sure of it.”

  Laedron nodded. “With the Zyvdredi threat gone, they should be free and clear. What step they take next will dictate their future, but we’ve done all that we can for them.”

  “You’ve done more than you had to,” Hale said. “More than I would have ever expected you to do.”