Heartstone (Eligium Series Book 5)

by Jake Allen Coleman

  "Ho there Scrab! Where d'ya think you're going?" Scrab had become Medron's nickname for Cenric. It was only after the other boy adopted it that Cenric learned the word was a rather nasty term for unschooled magic-users from before the Ban.

  Much as he wanted to push past and seek out a quiet spot to collect his thoughts, Cenric had learned better than to ignore Medron, "Jus' out for a walk before breakfast-time." Short answers. Keep them to the point. That was the way with Medron. Don't give him anything to latch onto for greater torment.

  "Yeh, I don't think so," Medron smirked. "You pulled double-duty today. Clear out the privies 'afore mealtime and then off to Master Grady for your work assignment."

  With the ranks of wizards and apprentices decimated everyone had to pull their weight and contribute their fair share, and sometimes that meant double duty to get everything finished that needed to be done in a day. Cenric found himself on double duty more often than most. Not that he complained. He doubted it would do him any good and Medron would only find other ways to torment him. He was not afraid of hard work. He welcomed the escape it provided and it reminded him at times of growing up at the Frisky Flask.

  Sighing, he nodded to Medron, "As you say." Waiting for a breath, he glared at the other boy. Medron paled just so under his gaze and Cenric turned away before the other boy recovered. Trudging toward the perimeter of their camp where the privies lay upwind Cenric allowed himself a satisfied smile. If nothing else, he still had his reputation to intimidate Medron and the other apprentices.

  Coming up to the privies, he wrapped a cloth around his nose and mouth to guard against the stench and grabbed the shovel. Looking into the pit he wondered why Medron bothered assigning him the duty. Clean as a privy could be, it did not need to be dug out for several more days at least. He suspected the older boy sent him there out of spite, not because Cenric actually drew the duty. Long past wondering why Medron hated him so much, Cenric planted the shovel back in the earth and looked back at the camp.

  Medron was nowhere in sight. Cenric took another look at the privy and decided Medron would never know if he actually cleared it out again. If he checked, and Cenric doubted the boy would bother, Cenric could just say someone must have used the pit after he finished. With that he slinked away. He had his morning to himself again, as long as he avoided Medron.

  Striking out across the camp, he maneuvered his way through the scattered tents and makeshift shelters, bypassing the apprentice camp entirely. Ignoring the cool breeze coming off the ocean, he focused on getting outside the perimeter to practice his magic. Just one little spell. It would be enough. Forbidden the use of magic since arriving back at the Cale, he had taken to finding opportunities to use his powers in secret. At first he thought it punishment until he learned none of the apprentices were being allowed to cast spells. It made no sense to him. Why were they there if not to learn to use magic? The Ban prevented most uses of power, but he had learned his way around that.

  Almost to the edge of the camp, he stopped, activity around Valeria's pavilion caught his eye. He avoided her as much as he could. She knew too much about him and had been the one to bring him back to the Cale. He wondered at all that activity so early in the morning. Curiosity got the better of him and Cenric changed direction to sneak up behind the tent.

  Hiding in the shadows, he crouched down and put his ear to the tent wall, listening to muffled voices. "...back early this morning," he did not recognize the speaker. "Arch-mage, we tracked the source back to the Cale."

  "Caglion, how can that be?" that was Valeria. "We have put strict limits on the use of magic here. Only under controlled circumstances."

  "There can be no doubt." It was that first voice, Caglion. Cenric knew of him by reputation. And that he’d been sent to Cynneweald with a charge to battle against the wild magic released at Cinaeth, Cenric had not realized the wizard had returned. "With the tearing caused during the battle against Sterling Lex, every use of magic sends out ripples. Those ripples can be traced. They lead back here. You know what must be done Arch-mage. The Heartstone must be retrieved and there is only one person I'm aware of who can do that."

  "There's nothing I must do," Valeria snapped. "There's been no prophecy or augury saying the boy is the one to recover the stone."

  "I don't need a prophecy to tell me he's the one to do it," said Caglion. "You know the spells holding the Ban in place as well as I do. Half-elven blood is required, a safe-guard put in place that I'm sure we're going to live to regret. Besides, he's the one who recovered the other Eligius."

  Sebastian. They had to be talking about Sebastian, realized Cenric.

  "There's just one problem, Caglion. When I went to him at Daguranso, he refused to recover the stone."

  "Then try again! There must be something that can be done. Arch-mage Valeria, you've not seen what I saw. Each ripple is worse than the last. I fear the energies will tear the kingdom apart and break the very foundations of the earth if this is not stopped."

  ‘What can be done, is being done. Perhaps the contents of the journal will convince him, if it can be recovered in time.”

  Cenric realized he hid there overlong. Wizards stirred throughout the camp and he needed to move or be discovered. Taking a careful look around, he crawled from the tent wall before standing. Mulling over what he heard, Cenric turned back to the apprentice camp, his chance to escape outside the perimeter gone for the time being.

  Sebastian again. All these wizards and they kept turning to Sebastian. Why? Because his father had been half an elf? Why did the fact of his blood make him any more important that everyone else? Cenric had power too, he proved that right here on these sands. He had commanded dragons and called the wind, yet now he labored under the thumb of the bully Medron.

  Sebastian never even wanted magic. He fled from it every chance he got. If he had never come to the Frisky Flask that day, the wizards would have brought Cenric to the Cale and none of this would have ever happened. The Ban would be intact, or ended intentionally. Cenric might even have been the one to recover the Stones. One thing became clear to Cenric as he walked. He hated Sebastian.

  Chapter Nine

  Trudging back to his tent at the end of the day, Cenric stewed over the conversation he overheard that morning. It consumed him throughout the day as he worked. He barely heard Wheinburn's lecture that afternoon. The old wizard babbled on and on about some obscure theory related to the ethics of magic. Tired of theory, Cenric wanted application, and a plan came to him gradually throughout the day. The wizards thought Sebastian was the only one who could find the Heartstone. Cenric would show them different.

  Leaving his clothes on, Cenric laid on his pallet as Medron made a final sweep of the camp to ensure all the apprentices were abed. The boy looked in on Cenric and hissed, "You drew latrine duty again in the morning Scrab. Best you rest up!" Medron laughed as he walked away.

  So that was how it would be. Cenric was sure he'd have privy duty every morning until Medron thought of something else to torment him. All the more reason to locate the Heartstone and show these wizards what he was capable of accomplishing with his magic.

  Waiting until the camp fell silent, Cenric crawled from beneath his blankets and edged to the tent door. Peering out, he could see the sentries patrolling the camp perimeter, but they were looking out rather than in. Around him the apprentice’s tents were silent, except for the occasional snore. It was time.

  Careful to make no sound, Cenric padded his way to the camp's perimeter. He did not need to avoid Medron's watchful eye as he had that morning so he was able to take a more direct route, rather than risking discovery near the wizard's tents. The quarter moon provided him just enough light to see, but not so much that it would give him away to the distant sentries.

  Reaching the temporary fence surrounding the encampment, Cenric dropped to the ground at the sound of an approaching sentry. He was in luck. The sentry would pass by on his patrol and not be back for at least half an hour. The wiz
ards were not concerned over much about an attack on the Cale, but hired the guards out of caution as a bulwark until the rebuilding was complete and magical wards put back in place.

  Cenric waited until the sentry passed out of sight and then made his way through a hole in the fencing. Of his own making, it was just big enough to allow Cenric to wiggle through, but not so big as to attract attention. With so much construction going on, no one bothered with upkeep on the fence. Eventually someone would discover and fix the hole and Cenric would have to make another one.

  Through the fence, Cenric broke into a trot and passed into the tree-line. His favorite clearing lay a short distance into the forest and even in the dim light he had no trouble following the path.

  Reaching it in short order, Cenric settled down onto the sand in the center of the clearing and closed his eyes to clear his mind. Breathing slowly, he called to mind the incantation he planned to invoke. A simple finding spell at its core, Sterling Lex had taught Cenric certain enhancements to multiply the power and reach of the spell.

  His intention set, Cenric felt the first stirrings of power seeping into his body. Warming his core, it rushed into his fingers and toes bringing him alive. For a moment, Cenric basked in the thrill, allowing latent energy to rush through him. Opening his eyes, he began uttering the words.

  "HOLD!" that hated voice called out of the jungle, breaking his concentration. "I told you he was out here. Take him."

  Three guardsmen emerged from the jungle to surround Cenric, with Medron on their heels. For a moment, Cenric considered releasing the power pent-up inside him. A word and he could level all three of these guards, and Medron along with them. Who would know? Before he could act, a young wizard emerged from the shadows. Caglion.

  Much as Cenric wanted to lash out at Medron, Caglion's presence changed things. He dared not test himself against the legendary wizard. Even if he defeated the man, the power released would draw the other wizards from the camp. "Release it!" commanded the wizard.

  Cenric lowered his head, allowing the power to seep back out of his body. It was as if his very life essence drained away. The world became dimmer and the night darker. In moments the rush and the thrill were gone and only Cenric was left.

  "Good," said Caglion. "You guardsmen are dismissed. Medron...back to the tents with you. I will deal with this one."

  "But..." started Medron. Caglion fixed him with a stare that brooked no argument and Medron closed his mouth, slinking back toward the camp.

  In moments they were alone and Caglion fixed that stare on Cenric. "Now boy, what do you think you were doing out here?"

  "Only a simple finder," Cenric lied. "I...lost something today my parents left to me. I had to find it. It's all I have of them."

  "A simple finder. Do you understand what you might have done with the amount of power you were about to put into that simple finder?" The man shook his head, "Don't bother answering. You clearly have no idea what you're doing. The restrictions are in place for a reason. I need your word you will not do anything this stupid again."

  Cenric knew how to act humble, even if he had no intention of obeying. "Yes, sir," he said, his head still bowed.

  "Hmmm...we'll see."

  Cenric needed to distract the wizard. He looked up at the man, "Why does Medron hate me so much?"

  "Has no one told you?" Cenric shook his head. "His brother was an apprentice at the Cale. He died during the Burning. Let's get you back to your tent."

  Chapter Ten

  For two weeks Cenric waited, biding his time. As the hours inched past, he grew more and more impatient. Each day's torture included Medron assigning him some menial task every morning with an afternoon of tedious lecture following. Wherever he turned it seemed Caglion was there, watching him. Caglion or one of the other wizards, but mostly just Caglion.

  Cenric knew the man did not trust him to hold true to his word and avoid magic. He also knew that Caglion could only maintain his watch for so long. Eventually other duties would draw him away and other wizards left to maintain the vigil. Wizards without Caglion's conviction.

  Cenric just had to be patient, but that was proving to be more of a challenge than he anticipated. He had never gone this long without using his magic since arriving at Cale Uriasz. What had started as an itch two days after Caglion caught him in the jungle had grown into a burning that threatened to consume him. He needed to feel the power rushing through him, even if just for a moment.

  Sitting in the sand with his fellow apprentices on the afternoon of the sixteenth day following his thwarted attempt to locate the Heartstone, movement at the docks drew his attention. A bustle of activity surrounded one of the few ships at the Cale and a familiar figure crossed the gangplank, boarding the ship. Caglion. At last, the wizard was leaving the island! He would finally have another chance to cast his spell.

  He trembled in anticipation of finally using his magic again, and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Once, he tried to explain the thrill to one of the others but Medron overheard him and put a stop to it. Even knowing the reason behind the other's animosity did little to motivate Cenric to make any attempt to mend bridges with him.

  "Cenric!?" The snap of the wizard's voice brought him back to the present. Almost as wide as he was tall, Wheinburn looked more the part of rich merchant than wizard. Around him, the other students stared at Cenric. Glaring at them, he silenced the snickers, leaving only a few smirks at his discomfort. He had no idea what question Wheinburn had been asking, and only the vaguest of notions as to the overall topic.

  "Umm...what was the question?" More snickers rose from behind him, which he chose to ignore.

  Wheinburn waved toward the rest of the apprentices, "Perhaps one of your colleagues will help you. They were paying attention."

  Cenric cast about, looking for someone to send him a lifeline. Blank stares greeted him. He would find no help there. He turned back to the wizard and shrugged.

  "No?" said Wheinburn. "That's too bad. I'll expect a treatise from you on the relative merits of red clay versus orange as the base material for Athaulf's Third Spell of Construction."

  Cenric groaned inwardly. He could think of nothing he'd rather do less that compare clay for some obscure spell from hundreds of years ago. Even cleaning the latrines would be better. What a waste of time this was! How he had ever wanted to come to this place was beyond him. He muttered something that appeased Wheinburn, who returned to his droning.

  He managed to keep his head down the rest of the afternoon, giving enough of an appearance of attentiveness to appease the wizard. Walking away at the end of the session, Cenric kept to himself, working his way back toward the tents and hoping to avoid his classmates.

  It was not to be. Two of Medron's cronies trailed after him, carrying on an exaggerated conversation about the relative merits of red versus orange clay for lining latrines. Cenric knew they were just trying to antagonize him. When he could take it no further he stopped, spinning on his heels to face them, hands on his hips.

  "What?" said the first. A short, sandy haired boy with a nose covered in freckles. His taller companion smirked, her long, black hair pulled back into a single ponytail. Cenric had not bothered to learn either of their names, even though they spent most days together. He simply didn't care to know them.

  Standing toe-to-toe, Cenric said not a word. He just glared. After a few moments, the girl tugged on her companion's arm, "Leave it, Tolly." The boy allowed her to pull him away.

  Staring after them, Cenric did not move until they had passed out of sight. Turning, he decided to skip dinner altogether. He had no desire to spend a moment longer than he had to in the presence of his fellow apprentices and with Caglion gone from the island, a window to attempt the finding spell opened again. At least with everyone else at dinner there should be no one to interrupt him.

  Making his way to a new gap in the fence-line, Cenric ran through the elements of the finding spell, along with the modifications he intended t
o make. His new opening was a bit more secluded than the one he used before, and closer to the apprentice camp. Caglion had the other exit sealed up and Cenric wanted to minimize the risk of discovery again.

  Once clear of the camp, he hurried into the forest and made his way back out to the clearing. He would have preferred to find a new location, but he'd not had a chance to go searching with Caglion breathing down his neck. Besides, the original clearing was already prepared.

  Settling down into the sand, he began his incantation. Once again, the power of the finding spell filled him. The magic rushed to every corner of his body, racing along veins and arteries and warming him from the inside out.

  Cenric began to chant and a dark fog rose up before his eyes. Undulating like a living thing, the fog surrounded him on all sides. Cenric changed his cadence, beseeching the fog to show him that which he sought, while at the same time continuing his subtle alterations to the base spell. Pinpricks of light appeared throughout the dark fog blanket and Cenric grew silent, allowing the spell to run its course.

  Mentally, he felt tendrils stretching out from the fog, searching for the Heartstone. The tendrils would travel farther and faster than he ever could, scouring the land for the stone. All he had to do now was wait. He didn't know much about how the spell could search so far, so fast; and did not particularly care. He needed results.

  Luxuriating in the feeling of the power pouring through him while he waited, Cenric wondered what it would be like once the Ban was brought down and he had access to the full scope of his magic. He had a glimpse of that on the few occasions where he'd tapped into one of the Eligius stones, but those glimpses only left him wanting more. How could the wizards ever have given up so much power?

  Abruptly, the tendrils snapped back and the fog settled to the jungle floor around him. "Damn." There was no indication the finder managed to located the Heartstone. He would have to do this a different way.