The Wizard considered it for a moment before speaking.
“A hearth is the integral part of a home, at least for a human or centaur. But I doubt that this literally means a heating or food preparation area. Prophecies tend more towards the poetic or the allegorical. I would speculate that the ‘hearth’ concept refers to a feeling of belonging. To a family or a larger group.”
That much made a lot of sense to me. Even in my world, there were expressions like ‘hearth and home’. The trouble was, many of our friends and allies could fit the description of being cast out beyond the warmth of their peoples.
Protector Liam had been exiled by his fellow fayleene many years ago. Grimshaw had been cast out of the Air Cavalry by his rider. Galen and his father had been estranged. Rikka had been held apart from other centaurs over her dyslexia. Even Magnus had been kept ‘beyond the light of the hearth’ from other centaurs due to his apparent death and (temporary) imprisonment.
“Well, whoever this ‘savior’ is,” Liam snorted, “I hope that he or she shows up soon!”
Right as he finished speaking, I felt a tingle in the air. So did my friends. Despite his age, Shaw reacted quicker than anyone. In a flash, he was at my side, a snarl erupting from his beak.
“Someone is casting a spell!” the Protector declared, as he shifted his stance to stand in front of me.
“Whoever is behind this is quite powerful,” Galen added grimly. His hooves made loud clops on the stone floor as he moved to cover the rear. “The protective wards I placed are slowing, not stopping this enchantment.”
My hand hovered close to where I could draw my own weapon. But it was hard to feel more than mildly anxious when I was surrounded on three sides by combat-ready friends.
A swirl appeared in the air atop the now-empty breakfast platter. It coalesced into a neatly folded tent card made of stiff brown parchment. Galen relaxed his ready stance and leaned over to snatch it up. He shook off the residue of melted butter and jam that clung to the card’s bottom and read the text inside aloud.
“Master Windkey of the Everwinter Glade requests the presence of Dame Chrissie of the Kingdom of Andeluvia, the purpose of which is to discharge the debt owed from services tendered to the Deliberation of Wizards in regards to the identification and sequestration of the party responsible for the murder of Master Dekanos.” Galen stopped and took a breath. “Oh, my. Apparently, the Deliberati do not mind using longwinded sentences.”
“Does he say how I’m supposed to arrive?” I asked.
The Wizard handed over the tent card. The bottom edge had taken on a blue tint from a jam stain. But I clearly made out a bright golden seal stamped from a wax dripping below the written portion of the message. The center of the wax was indented, and I made out the trace of a spiral inside the depression.
Master Windkey had added his personal touch to the seal with a press of his horn.
“I recognize this type of magic,” Galen said. “Pressing your finger to this seal will bring you to a location of Windkey’s choosing. However, it shall only allow for one person’s transport.”
“I mislike this,” Shaw said immediately. “Thou shalt not travel alone into unknown demesnes!”
“I don’t like it either,” Liam added. “This wasn’t the deal.”
“Not so fast,” I cautioned. “First off, we never specified that we all had to be present in order for Windkey to reveal his knowledge. He’s not reneging on his part of the bargain.”
“Maybe not, but how can we–”
“Second,” I said, quashing Liam’s objection, “If we don’t like this option, what are we going to do about it? Galen, what are our chances of transporting into the Everwinter Glade together, especially if the unicorns have some kind of shield up?”
“We would simply return to our point of origin without ill effect,” he replied. “However, that is the ‘at best’ scenario.”
Shaw threw him a look. “What doth thou figure the ‘at worst’ scenario to be?”
The Wizard opened the fingers of one hand while making a poof! sound.
“Glorious,” the griffin breathed. “But ‘tis not a death whilst in combat. One can think of more honorable ways to perish.”
“Finally,” I pushed on, with gritted teeth, “we need to consider the unicorns’ past behavior. Manipulative and secretive, yes. But had they wanted to harm any of us, they’ve already had ample opportunity to do so.”
“I agree with all of the points of your argument,” Galen acknowledged. “Yet I would prefer an approach that safeguards your return.”
Maybe it was the recent lack of sleep that finally curdled my attitude.
More likely it was the cup of bạn sẽ hối hận that was already roiling my gut.
I just wasn’t in the mood to argue, and my friends’ objections started to rankle me.
“Look, I don’t need a magical babysitter,” I insisted. “What I need is for you and Liam to find out what those strange runes mean. If you need to speak to Nagura, go and get it done.”
The Wizard blinked. “What might a ‘baby sitter’ be?”
“Whoever’s baby might be getting ‘sat’ on, you should at least take Shaw!” Liam shot back. “What he lacks in intelligence, he makes up for in fighting prowess!”
“Thy fayleene is right!” Shaw declared. “And I shall hold off on eating him for that insult because of it!”
The final frayed strand of my patience snapped.
“That’s enough!” I shouted. “All of you, enough! I don’t need any of you to come with me, and that’s the end of it!”
The room went dead quiet. Shaw looked startled at my outburst, Liam a mixture of fearfulness and resignation. Galen’s kind face was a picture of puzzlement and hurt.
I averted my eyes.
“I’ll return…when I return,” I mumbled.
It was a relief to slip my thumb up against the seal. Wax crumbled under my grasp, and with a snap-crackle, the world vanished with a white flash.
Chapter Seven
White shifted into steely gray as I arrived at the permanently overcast city of the unicorn wizards. Though the transport deposited me as smoothly as Galen’s medallion, the pool-chlorine stench of the ‘in-between’ space stung my nose more than ever. I shook my head to clear it and ended up letting out a loud sneeze.
I heard a familiar voice chuckle in response.
“Welcome back to the Everwinter Glade,” Master Windkey said, as he inclined his spiral horn to me. The unicorn’s coat and mane bore the summery sheen of a blooming marigold. “Also, among my kind a sneeze is a prelude to good fortune.”
“If that’s the case,” I said, “then I’m going to start carrying a pepper mill around.”
Another chuckle. “Ever the quick wit, Dame Chrissie!”
The transport spell had deposited me in the middle of the cobblestone-lined plaza next to the deceased Master Dekanos’ house. Carved stone statues of past unicorn wizards still lined the sides of the square. But the plain granite-sided buildings had been freshly painted with sparkling stripes of blue and gold.
“I like what you’ve done with the place, Master Windkey.”
The stallion made an agreeable nod. “Master Interior Decorator felt we needed a boost to our moods. It seemed appropriate after the depressing need to do away with the errant Master Wayfarer.”
I gave him a look. “Done away with?”
“Hmph. That sounded a trifle inconsiderate. Be at ease. We do not execute fellow unicorns. He is simply…away for now.”
I didn’t say anything. For some reason, his reassurance sounded even more sinister than my original assumption. But the stallion brushed the topic aside.
“You are not here to discuss our forms of justice. Rather, we need to speak of the topic you paid in sweat for. Follow me and we shall do just that.”
Windkey set off at a trot, forcing me to step lively to keep up. We crossed the plaza and turned down one of the main avenues. As I followed in the un
icorn’s wake, my memory kept flashing back to when my friends and I had broken into their meeting room and seen the talking busts they’d used as mouthpieces. My brain kept repeating what the Deliberation of Wizards had said about me and my friends.
The centaur who shall change one of his friends for the worse.
The griffin with the spotted flank.
The fayleene one thought was dead but still lives.
The Dame who is destined to fail at the end.
Prophecy came naturally to magical beings like these equines. Yet only one of these had been confirmed by Destry upon his betrayal: the last, final word on the matter.
I was going to fail. And that brutal fact had played havoc with my sleep and my emotions.
My head came up in surprise as I realized we had just passed in front of the former Master Dekanos’ house. Before I could ask where we were heading, Windkey turned the corner and indicated that I should follow him through a small open door along the dwelling’s side.
“The servant’s entrance,” he explained. “It is humble, but also private.”
The air took on a distinct chill as I followed him inside. The smell of toasted grain filled the air even as the light dimmed. The stallion’s hooves began to make loud clops that echoed off a high ceiling.
“Dùin an doras,” Windkey said softly. “Thoir dhomh solas.”
The servant’s entryway closed with a snick. A split second later, weirlight orbs illuminated the interior. I looked around. We stood in one corner of the house’s main chamber. The champagne-colored sand I remembered from last time had been swept away from this quadrant of the room.
Elsewhere, the spirals and mounded whorls I’d seen before had been carelessly trampled by multiple sets of hoofprints. I made out the small hill of green turf where I’d examined Dekanos’ body and the silver-leaved ‘weeping willow’ tree above it. I suppressed a shudder as I recalled the poison that had been administered using a bough of that very tree.
A series of frescoes decorated walls that shone with the gleam of lime plaster. The artwork depicted equines wearing tack, marching grimly across snow-covered mountains. Though at a second glance, it was clear that they weren’t out for a stroll. They were fleeing. They were fleeing from a blood-red glow that came from a point beyond the mountains, as if from a distant forest fire.
“I never got a chance to look at this art in any detail,” I mused. “That’s a very deep red in the pictures. Ruby red, like the Hearts of the Mother.”
“Ah, that old tale of the Seraphine,” Windkey shrugged, as if brushing away my comment. “In our mythos, there is no giant ruby. Only a creature of fire that threatened to split the world, consigning half of it to the flame.”
“And that’s why these equines are fleeing?”
“Some would say as much. After all, if half of the world was to be destroyed, it would be wise to try and move to the other half.”
Try as I might, I couldn’t argue with that logic.
“Still, I did not bring you here for art appreciation,” he pointed out. “Rather, I discovered the answers to the questions you are seeking. I do not want them shared with the rest of my people at this time.”
I looked around at the murals again as I collected my thoughts.
“That’s fine by me,” I said. “But I thought you already knew the answers. I didn’t think you had to ‘discover’ them.”
“I had not been promoted to the rank of Master at the time certain choices were made. As a mere acolyte of the Senior Archmage, I did not pry into the ‘why’ behind these choices until you inquired. The price to get this information was higher than I expected.”
“How so?”
“The only unicorn privy to the reasoning behind Dekanos’ decisions…was the oldest among the Masters at the time.”
The hesitance to tell me that last bit said everything. “You’re talking about Wayfarer.”
The stallion hung his head for a moment. “Yes. He knew, but he made it difficult for us to question him. We had to mindbreak him. It was not a pleasant experience for any involved.”
I don’t know what mindbreaking is, I said to myself, but I really don’t want to know.
“We got what we wanted in the end. Someday soon, Wayfarer should be capable of higher brain functions again. When that time comes, hopefully he’ll learn to stop soiling himself.”
Oh, God! Like I said, I really don’t want to know!
“You wished to understand why we unicorns withdrew from the world,” Windkey intoned. “Why we promoted none but each other to the title of Archmage. And why we discouraged humans from pursuing certain types of magic. The answer is one and the same: Master Dekanos and Master Wayfarer felt the humans were becoming too obsessed with seeking power through magic.
“This aggression, this obsession…it frightened them. If humans grew worse, or yet another species gifted in magic – the centaurs, say – were to turn aggressive, then the Glade could find itself under attack from any and all sides.”
“So you decided to limit your contact with the world outside the Glade,” I said, considering. “And that’s why you also decided to limit who could become an Archmage. Specifically, to your select group of unicorns.”
A nod. “We also decided to formalize how wizards learn. We made sure that teaching scrolls were available, at a price. And we created institutions that controlled how magic would be taught. To nudge those who studied into more passive, scholarly subjects.”
This explained the texts that Galen had used to study his craft. What’s more, it explained why the Guilds had ceased teaching anything related to magical combat. But that left only one question.
“Why go to all that trouble?” I asked. “What triggered all this fear, and when?”
Windkey made a musical snort. “This goes into what Wayfarer and Dekanos kept to themselves. About two decades ago, a human with wizard-level abilities arrived at the Everwinter Grove. He’d somehow penetrated our illusions and even managed to hold off Master Wayfarer’s first attacks. This intrigued Master Dekanos, who ordered Wayfarer to stand down and allow the man inside.”
Once again, a flag waved in my mind. I shoved past it and asked the obvious follow-up question.
“What did this wizard want?”
“At first, he claimed to want to study under the Senior Archmage’s guidance. This was a rare, but not unheard-of occurrence. But in time, Dekanos discovered what the man was really searching for: something that required Archmage-level magic. A specific kind of mind domination spell. That is when things became violent.”
I swallowed, hard. “Violent.”
“Alas, yes. Master Dekanos confronted him, and a wizard’s duel erupted. The human wizard managed to transport himself away, but not before he had badly wounded the Senior Archmage. I pored over the notes from the Master Physician of that time, and Dekanos’ injuries were extensive. In retrospect, I believe that this attack put a dagger of fear into the Archmage’s heart, one that never healed.”
“And the human wizard…” I began.
“No more was heard from him again. Perhaps he was wounded as well. Perhaps he died from those injuries.”
“I suspect not,” I said drily. “You said that this human was looking for a ‘specific’ kind of mind domination spell. Do you know which kind?”
Master Windkey tossed his head, making his apricot-blond mane rustle as he turned to face me. “Yes, I do. It was the kind tailored to bend the will of a full-grown dragon.”
Chapter Eight
“This human wizard,” I said carefully, “the one who wanted that spell…what was his name?”
Windkey made a maddeningly disinterested shrug. “I don’t know.”
I clamped my jaw shut before I said something that I would regret later. Still, it took most of my self-control to master my temper. I took a breath before speaking again.
“This is kind of important,” I pointed out. “To me, to you, to this entire world. How could you not–”
> The stallion struck his forehoof against the ground with a single hard clop.
“Before you dare to berate me, keep one thing in mind. That if I knew this man’s name and chose not to tell you, then I would be violating our bargain.”
That went a long way to deflating my anger, at least. Master Windkey had a point. If he planned to stonewall me, then he wouldn’t have bothered speaking to me in such a private location. In fact, he might not have seen me again at all.
“Master Dekanos is dead,” Windkey said. “Master Wayfarer’s mind shattered before we could gain that information from him. And none of the other Masters know what I have told you. As Dekanos’ acolyte, I saw the man only one time, and it was at a distance.”
“Was he a dark-skinned man?” I asked eagerly, as I thought about the dream involving two wizards in combat. “Tall, muscular?”
Again with that infuriating shrug. “No, he was a common Andeluvian specimen, with a pinkish color. Frankly, you humans all look pretty much alike to me.”
I stifled a groan at that. But I pushed on. “Anything else you remember about this man? Any detail, no matter how small, would help me. What color was his hair? Did he carry a sword? What clothes did he wear?”
“He wore a typical Andeluvian cloak. It was plain blue or green, and it had a hood. The hood was up, so I don’t know what color his hair might have been. I don’t recall if he carried a sword or not. In fact, only one detail about the man struck me as interesting.”
“What?” I hated the sound of desperation in my voice, but there it was.
“The way he carried himself.”
It felt like the wind fell from my sails on that one.
“I don’t understand,” I began. “The way he–”
“He carried himself with the casual confidence of a noble,” Windkey clarified. “This man had obviously been a leader of other men. Or he had been born to the nobility. Perhaps both. That is all I can tell you from some vague memory of twenty years ago. What this portends for the future, I cannot tell.”
Dragon with a Deadly Weapon Page 4