An Emperor's Gamble (Legend of Tal: Book 3)

by J. D. L. Rosell

  "He means to end the war." Kaleras spoke without turning around. "And the Enemy awaits atop Ikvaldar."

  A moment of silence fell, filled only with the soft, stumbling strains of Rolan's song.

  "Since we know his destination," Ashelia continued, "we can guess his path. There appears to be no pass to Ikvaldar on this side of the range. Access is easiest from the east, though there might possibly be a pass from the north."

  "You're assuming he knows where he's going," Aelyn said drily. "That he has a map or some other source of guidance. But until Vathda, he has followed the road. I suspect he has little idea where he's heading."

  The Peer gave her House-brother a look that made Garin cringe to witness.

  "We cannot make a plan from that, Aelyn. We have to assume he knows where he goes. Otherwise, he becomes entirely unpredictable."

  Aelyn grimaced and turned his head aside, giving no more response than a quiet harrumph.

  After a moment, Ashelia continued. "Assuming Ikvaldar is his destination, we have two choices. We can either try to find him in the mountains. Or we can move ahead of him and hope to catch him."

  Helnor shook his head. "Tracking him into the mountains would be fruitless. If he left a trail, it will take us far too long to find it."

  "Tracking is what we did before," Aelyn spoke up again. "It didn't provide us a bounty of results, did it?"

  While the Prime scowled at his House-brother, who was clearly putting his tracking abilities into question, Ashelia traced a finger along the map. "If we intend to cut him off, then taking the road is the better course."

  "Do you think the Ravagers patrol it?" Falcon queried with an uneasy smile.

  The Peer shrugged. "Possibly. But they may also be tracking Tal through the Hyalkasi range. Or they have him as their prisoner. Or they think he is dead, as we did. The fact remains that if we do not take the road, we will lose all advantage of speed. He has a day's head start on us; two, by the time we leave. We need to gain every mile we can."

  "But even if we move ahead of him, what then?" Wren demanded. "We could pass within a mile of each other and never know. And anything we do to attract attention to ourselves might draw the Ravagers."

  "Or other fell creatures," Falcon murmured, glancing back at Rolan to be sure he didn't hear.

  Ashelia was again pointing at the map. "We'll intercept him here."

  Helnor leaned closer and squinted at the text. "Galen'fom?"

  "Golen'forn," Kaleras spoke without turning around. "It means 'valley of fog,' or perhaps 'mist'."

  "It doesn't sound like the ideal place to watch for a lost companion," Aelyn noted drily.

  "No vale is forever filled with fog." Ashelia had not lifted her gaze, staring as if she might change the place to suit her plans by force of will.

  "We should move ahead of him to this Valley of Fog." Garin was almost as surprised as the others to find himself speaking. But with his companions' eyes drawn to him, he forged on. "Even if it's true to its name, I can find Tal. Or rather, my devil can."

  He wondered if he was relying too much on Ilvuan in this, especially as the Singer did not always appear when he wished. But circumstances left him with little choice. The Valley of Fog was the first narrow pass on the journey to Ikvaldar. The longer they went without finding Tal, the more he feared they never would.

  After a long moment, Ashelia nodded. "Very well. It is decided. We will head for the Valley of Fog."

  And hope we're not too late. Garin suspected the thought was in more heads than just his own.

  They left Vathda the next morning.

  Garin was surprised at how glad he felt to be on the road again. He breathed in deeply and reveled in the frigid air crawling down his throat. Even as it stung, it seemed as if he breathed in the vigor of the road, of a wandering life that he'd never thought to have, and now couldn't imagine living without.

  As Horn was still missing — and, indeed, appeared to be the stor that had fallen off the cliff — Garin rode double with Wren once more. She took in the reins of Lighthoof while he tucked onto the beast's back behind her, this time with a folded quilt for padding. Yet his focus was less on his encroaching discomfort and more on his arms about her waist. Other than the ride two days before, it was as close as they had come in weeks. But though they'd had a reconciliation of sorts, Wren had been strangely distant since making their plans concerning Tal. Garin had tried to ask her if anything was wrong, but she'd brushed him off each time with a prickly reply. The chilliness of her reception put a damper on the ride and soured the sweetness of holding her for the days ahead.

  The mounts loaded and the riders settled, the company left the town to a sparse farewell party. Elder Hazul had shown up with a small retinue, all of whom seemed to be genuine well-wishers. Most of the remaining Hardrogs were too busy mending their homes and town to attend. At least Vathda's mostly stone, Garin mused as he waved a hand before the dwarves were lost from sight behind the boulders. The main halls would be laborious to rebuild, and the winter might stretch longer without their communal feast hall and baths. But they would survive.

  More than we can say for ourselves. Despite the grimness of the thought, Garin smiled, as Tal might have done. He wondered if he was becoming more like his old mentor than he'd realized, just as Kaleras had once implied.

  The day was unusually clear for what they'd experienced in the Hyalkasi mountains thus far. But though he tilted his face up toward the warmth, Garin soon realized the sun was more a curse than a blessing. The light reflected off the snow around them, dazzling his vision. Their company had barely crossed the bridge and reached the road before the start of a headache crept into his skull.

  But that was only the first irritation. As the day wound on, the snow became slushy and made the stors step uncertainly. When Lighthoof betrayed his name and almost pitched over, Helnor finally called for them to dismount and walk their beasts for a time. Hours of wet marching followed, moisture seeping its way into every fabric — their boots, their pants, their cloaks, even undergarments — as they fought their way up the road. Blisters on feet and rashes between legs became guaranteed prophecies.

  Garin was glad when darkness fell and shadows replaced the blinding reflections. Ashelia instructed their party to make camp by the road, the nearby forest crowding too close together to house all their tents. But even as Garin agonized over whether he and Wren would share a shelter, having said barely more than two words to each other all day, someone approached him.

  "Come with me," Kaleras said, then turned away without waiting for a reply.

  Baffled, Garin stared after the warlock. He guessed his intention to teach Garin of spellwork, as he'd promised he would. But why he had to pursue it now, when the pain of squinting all day had progressed from his throbbing head down to the muscles between his shoulders, was beyond him.

  Heroes don't choose their trials, I suppose, he thought with a weary, mocking smile.

  He left his place by Wren's shelter and met Kaleras by the fire. Though the elderly man had trudged through the snow all day, he still stood, only his bowed posture showing any sign of weakness. With the firelight catching on half his face, Garin saw his expression was as hard and determined as ever before.

  Garin noticed the others glancing their way as he stood before Kaleras. Aelyn, in particular, he made note of, for the mage looked as if his eyes might catch fire from how brightly they blazed. He tried to ignore him, though part of him couldn't help but wonder if Aelyn might not be more a suitable tutor now. Now that he knew what hopes the warlock pinned on Garin, he wasn't altogether sure Kaleras had Garin's health at heart.

  He brought his attention back to the aged man as he began to speak.

  "You demonstrated what you know last time," Kaleras said. "Now that I understand your grasp on the fundamentals, we must instruct you in the spells that might keep you alive."

  Despite his reservations, a flutter of excitement filled Garin's belly. "Alright. Where do we star
t?"

  "There are four primary disciplines in which you must be proficient. Lacking in any one of these may result in your death."

  "A cheery reasoning," Garin noted.

  Kaleras didn't seem to share his amusement, but continued with his expression unaltered. "Survival. Subterfuge. Perception. Combat. We will touch on each of these and expand your knowledge in subsequent lessons."

  Garin couldn't help a guilty glance at Aelyn. The mage had been the first one to set Garin down this path. In some small way, he still felt as if he'd betrayed their relationship. But Aelyn no longer stared his way, but instead leveled his blazing eyes at Wren, who stood before him with hands propped on her hips.

  "Those sound like things I should learn, too — don't you think, Aelyn?" She stressed his name, emphasizing the lack of the formal address he'd demanded back in Elendol.

  While the others looked on with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, Aelyn's expression twisted with distaste.

  "Very well," he relented. "But we will not stray beyond your capacity."

  "As you say." Wren rolled her eyes, then gave Garin a droll smile. He answered it fleetingly before looking back at Kaleras.

  "If you're ready," the warlock said with the first hint of emotion, a mocking edge to his tone.

  "Ah, right. I'm ready."

  "We'll begin with an important survival spell, alm kald — or vuud keld in the Darktongue."

  As usual, Garin couldn't help a shiver at hearing the Night's language spoken. Even if it's my tongue, now. "'Water fire'?"

  "Correct."

  Kaleras seemed to be waiting for something, so he took a stab at its meaning, ignoring Wren and Aelyn exchanging quips across the fire. "I suppose it's used to thaw water in cold conditions."

  The warlock nodded. "Good. A simple water cantrip, such as you might use to fill your flask, is the basis of the spell. Begin there, focusing your mind completely on these effects."

  Garin, surprised he'd elicited any word of praise from the prickly warlock, at once closed his eyes and did as instructed. Water summoning didn't require much energy transfer, nor was it as visceral as calling forth fire or ice. But he'd become proficient in the cantrip along with the others and had soon called it to mind.

  He opened his eyes. "Alright. What's next?"

  "Apply the effects of keld to the baseline cantrip. Instead of conjuring flame, you must heat the water you are summoning."

  Garin nodded and closed his eyes again, picturing the sequence as Kaleras described it. Before long, he opened his eyes and waited for the next instruction.

  The warlock made a small gesture. "Take your flask and make an attempt."

  Garin hesitantly pulled up the flask at his hip and opened it. After a moment's consideration, he poured out its contents, barely kept from freezing by his body heat, onto the snow at their feet.

  Better succeed if you want to drink, he thought wryly.

  He cleared his thoughts and held the illustration of the spell in his mind. One hand holding the flask, the other outstretched to the snow, Garin breathed out slowly and attended to the Fourth Root by imagining the effect he wished to produce.

  "Vuud keld," he murmured.

  The Song surged into his head, a triumphant chorus merged from a dozen sounds that should not have found harmony, but somehow did. A till over dirt matched time and tone with the swish of a fisherman's net hitting the water. A mother's cry to her child wove through an aged man's weeping. Garin marveled that what had once sounded like chaos had always had an underlying order to it, had he only been able to hear it. The ordering of the World — the thought drifted through his head. He wasn't entirely sure it was his.

  "That's enough."

  Blinking, Garin came back to himself to find water spilling over the lip of his flask and soaking his glove through. Muttering curses, he broke off the spell with a haste Aelyn would have criticized. The stream of steaming water, which had been rising at his command from the snow and gathering from the air, shattered into droplets. A brief moment of wonder cut through the chaotic aria still playing for his ears alone.

  Kaleras was studying him. Garin, not sure what else to do, took a drink of the water from his flask. He nearly spit it back out, not expecting it to be hot on his tongue. With deliberate nonchalance, he lowered it from his lips and stoppered it again.

  Finally, the warlock spoke. "Only give to a spell what is required. Other than that, you cast it well. We will move on."

  Perplexed by two moments of praise and an efficient lesson, Garin listened through the continued strains of the Song as Kaleras described the next incantation.

  "We'll pass over perception spells for the moment. While important, the last two areas are more essential. Reld waul — vorl weal — is next."

  Garin opened his mouth to ask what the words meant when a whisper sounded in his mind. Almost, he could understand it, but the meaning kept flitting out of his grasp. Yet as he attenuated to the warlock again, he found he already had the answer he'd been seeking.

  "Mist shadow."

  A moment of consternation flitted across the warlock's shadowed features. "Correct."

  There was a pause in which Garin thought Kaleras might ask how he knew the translation. Instead, he continued without comment.

  "It is often categorized as a minor illusion spell, for it hides its caster within a cloud of mist and further confounds through the apparitions of silhouettes."

  "Useful. Should I do it the same way as before? Imagine the first part, then layer on the second?"

  To his private delight, Kaleras seemed once again hesitant. It took all of Garin's self-control not to smile. A strange elation filled him. Inundated with the Song, the World seemed to be at his beck and call, waiting to twist and form to his commands.

  "Yes." The warlock made a small gesture. "Proceed."

  Garin, expecting Kaleras to first cast each part of the spell individually, faltered for a moment. But the Song's call was not to be denied. Nodding, he closed his eyes and pictured what Kaleras had described. The scene painted itself with little effort required. No sooner had he pictured it than he found himself uttering the words.

  "Vorl weal."

  He opened his eyes as the air changed around him. The clear night began to distort, like a low-hanging cloud swept over them. With each passing second, it thickened, until Garin could see no more of Kaleras than his outline. Even the fire's light was greatly diminished, spreading no further than its own leaping flames.

  Then Garin brought forth the second part of the spell, and the mist filled with shadows.

  His skin crawled as he gazed upon them. A dozen figures not previously there had sprouted into being, all seeming to stare directly at Garin. One seemed to loom within arm's reach. Garin stretched a hand out toward it. The Song blared in his head as his fingers brushed where the figure's chest should have been, but touched nothing but damp air.

  It took Garin a moment to distinguish his companions' voices from the rest of the cacophony. Aelyn and Wren were cursing. Falcon barked a laugh and said, "Give us a warning next time, would you?" Rolan sounded caught between wonder and fear of the looming specters.

  "Enough," Kaleras spoke through the fog. "Dismiss it."

  Garin nodded before he realized the warlock wouldn't see it. "Alright."

  Just as easily as they had come, the mist and shadows dissipated, and the campsite came back into view. Garin wasn't sure how much of an energy transfer such a spell should have entailed, but he felt no weaker for the casting. Held aloft amid the Song, he found it hard not to let triumph lift his spirits to soaring.

  Perhaps I am this Fount of Song, he thought. Perhaps I'm meant to inherit the Worldheart.

  But as soon as he thought it, the exhilaration burned itself out. Some thoughts were too ridiculous even to entertain privately.

  With a sliver of shame, Garin met his teacher's eyes, almost afraid the warlock might read the grandiose fantasies in his head. But he didn't expect what he saw
. Kaleras was smiling — more than a thin-lipped gesture, too, but with a glimmer of teeth showing.

  "You have talent, lad," he said. "More talent than I've ever seen in an untrained pupil."

  Garin opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he say to that? He had never imagined himself particularly talented. His sister and mother might have told him he was bright as a child, but he'd never made much of such words. The nun in the Coral Castle had praised him for learning to read and write quickly, and the Master-at-Arms for picking up on swordplay, and Tal for any number of things. But he'd been too concerned with the Extinguished haunting the halls and the Song and Singer in his head — to make no mention of Wren — to give any of it a spare thought. And even Aelyn had managed a grudging word of praise when Garin had but to glance at a glyph before memorizing it, and each of the cantrips coming easily to him — more easily than to Wren, even.

  For the first time in a long time — or perhaps in his life — Garin looked at himself as others had. And he wondered if he might not be more than he ever realized, if he would only allow it.

  Kaleras' smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. "But that must suffice for the night. We will travel early tomorrow and require rest."

  As abruptly as he had begun it, the elderly warlock ended their session. He spared no more words for the others, but stiffly bowed into his shelter and disappeared from sight.

  Garin glanced over to find Wren staring at him, eyes bright with the fire and her golden tendrils. As their gazes met, she looked aside. She and Aelyn resumed their lesson with reckless abandon, flames spilling forth from Wren's hands, evoking a fountain of the mage's curses.

  He turned away, intending to look as if he sought to relieve himself, though he had no need of it. All he wanted was a moment to think over what had occurred — and, more importantly, silence the Song ringing through his head. Stepping behind a nearby boulder, Garin leaned back against it and breathed for a moment, his eyelids drifting closed. The disparate sounds didn't aggravate as they first had, but soothed his racing thoughts.