Fate of Wizardoms Boxed Set

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “I…figured you liked it there.”

  She ran her hand across his forehead, wiping away beads of perspiration. “Of course I did, silly. I liked it there because you were there.”

  “I…” He floundered, searching for the right words. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  A snort was her immediate response, paired with a shake of her head. “Have you met yourself? You aren’t exactly the type who shares feelings or wishes others to share back. Your gruff, sturdy, reliable demeanor is among the things I like about you, but the sharing must happen sometimes.”

  He stared into her green, intense eyes. “What now? What would you have of me, Blythe?”

  Those eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I would have you alive. Perhaps more importantly, I wish you to be happy, to shed the shackles of your past and help secure a better future. Not as a martyr, but as a leader. And I would have it all happen with me by your side.”

  The lump in his throat was difficult to swallow, the words slippery as he attempted to gather them and force them past his tongue. “I would like that very much.”

  Her smile widened briefly, then fell away as she bent down and kissed him. He responded, allowing himself to enjoy the moment, enjoy her presence, and look forward to the future for the first time in many, many years.

  That evening, Rhoa and her companions, even Brogan, gathered in the dining room. The man appeared pale and weary, but that was to be expected. Despite his earlier wounds, the seers promised he would make a full recovery after a solid night of rest.

  Blythe sat by his side, the two of them occasionally sharing a look, saying nothing. Rhoa wondered if something had occurred between them. She recalled how upset Blythe had been as she followed him to the infirmary. The fact she cared deeply for the man was obvious.

  Rhoa ate with a fervor, hungrier than she had been at any time since arriving in Kelmar. The food had not gotten any better, but she had grown used to it and no longer had to choke down the soggy vegetables or strange fish.

  Jace and Narine sat across from her, the two sharing whispers and smiles. Rhoa could not stop looking toward them but felt as if she were invading on something private with each glance. They seem to grow closer with each passing week.

  Jealousy arose. She tried to stifle it, knowing it was a petty reaction. From time to time, she would glance toward Rawk, who sat beside Jace. She often caught him staring back. The Maker’s eyes would grow visibly alarmed, then he would look down at his plate, focused on the food, as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. She wondered if he was really watching her or if it was just her own wishful thinking.

  Adyn finished eating first, the woman stretching as she leaned back. “I would give anything for an alehouse. It seems like forever since I have had an evening of fun.”

  “Ahh,” said Salvon. “I also miss reciting tales to a roomful of eager listeners hanging on my every word.”

  “Well, that isn’t exactly the fun I had in mind,” Adyn replied. “But if you can give me something interesting to drink, I am all ears.”

  Salvon chortled. “Fair enough.”

  Xionne, accompanied by Zhialta, entered the room, interrupting the conversation.

  The young seer nodded to the table, all eyes on her. “As the representative of my people, I wish to thank you all. While lives were lost today, buildings destroyed, and fear thrust into our hearts, things would have ended far worse had you not reacted with speed and bravery.”

  Zhialta asked, “How did you know to attack their magic users?”

  Jace shrugged. “Brogan.”

  The big warrior sat back, his eyes going to Blythe before he responded. “I… I’ve had experience fighting darkspawn in The Fractured Lands. You soon learn that the shaman are the head of that particular snake. Chop the head off, and the rest become mindless wretches, barely able to wield a weapon and completely unable to reason.”

  “Yes. That matches Hadnoddon’s report,” Zhialta noted.

  Xionne sighed. “Should another attack occur, it may be necessary knowledge for us to survive. I fear the vision exposing the Dark Lord also made him aware of our presence. It cannot be coincidence for our city to be attacked five days after his attempt on my life. Kelmar was founded two thousand years ago, and we have never experienced an invasion prior to now. The seers must prepare. We will not be caught unaware next time.”

  “Next time?” Rhoa asked.

  The seer nodded. “If the Dark Lord seeks to extend his dominion, he will view us as a threat. We are the servants of Vandasal, who diametrically opposes Urvadan. To gain advantage over our god, the Dark Lord will seek to eliminate the seers. Of this, I am certain.

  “While we prepare ourselves for the next assault, you must follow the prophecies, seek out the objects of power, and ultimately confront the Dark Lord. Unless you succeed, I fear all else is for naught and just delaying the inevitable.”

  A long moment of quiet followed.

  “Just to be clear, what is this inevitable?” Jace asked.

  Tilting her head, Xionne replied, “The end of the world, of course.”

  She then turned and headed out the door, her white skirts billowing, Zhialta following. After they were gone, the room remained silent, Rhoa’s thoughts unable to shake the woman’s final statement.

  “The end of the world, of course.”

  37

  A Tearful Farewell

  Narine cast one final glance back at the room that had been her home for two weeks. Her stay at Kelmar had been memorable, filled with oddities, discoveries, and moments of horror. She prayed her next destination, wherever that may be, offered more promise and lacked the darker moments. Grunting as she shouldered her pack, she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door.

  Salvon, Brogan, and Blythe disappeared down the stairs. Adyn emerged from the room across the hallway, her pack slung over one shoulder.

  The bodyguard arched a brow at Narine. “No trunks for this journey?”

  “How droll.”

  “I don’t see dirt on your dress. Did they launder your clothing, as well?”

  “Thankfully, yes.”

  “Anything else you want to tell me about yesterday? You and your boyfriend seemed giddy at dinner.”

  Narine stumbled on her reply, her face growing flush. “I… We…”

  Adyn laughed and put her arm about Narine’s shoulders, walking her down the corridor. “Please don’t change. I do so enjoy making you blush.”

  The door to Jace’s room opened. He stepped out wearing his wool cloak, a loaded pack on his back. His eyes landed on Narine. “Why are your cheeks red?”

  Again, Adyn laughed, stirring Narine’s stubborn side. She doused her inhibitions and forced an uncharacteristic response. “I was just telling Adyn of our adventures in the bathtub. I left out no detail.” She gave him a lecherous grin. “Not even your playful hijinks.”

  Shockingly, Jace blushed, his jaw working, no words emerging. Laughter overtook Adyn until she had to lean against the wall lest she fall to the floor. Unable to resist, Narine laughed, as well. When Jace’s face darkened and he stomped off, she laughed even harder.

  Recovering, Adyn put her arm about Narine again and led her down the corridor. “That was outstanding.”

  “He is cross with me now.”

  “Yeah, but don’t you think it was worth it?”

  Grinning, Narine nodded. “It was fun.”

  “Of course it was. You gave him back what he normally does to you.”

  They descended the stairs, moving slowly beneath the weight on their backs.

  Narine reflected on their stay at Kelmar, as well as the time she and Jace had spent together. “Lately, he has been more considerate. At least toward me. I believe he is making an effort, and I cannot help but appreciate him for it.”

  “Shh.” Adyn leaned close, whispering, “You mustn’t tell him that. Keep making him work for your affection. If he thinks he will have it regardless of his efforts, y
ou lose all advantage.”

  Chuckling, Narine shook her head. “You make it sound as if he and I are in a duel.”

  “Oh, you are. But in this fight, the stakes are much higher than in an arena.” She tapped on Narine’s chest. “This is the prize.”

  Narine scoffed. “Trust me, he has enjoyed those extensively. In fact, he seems quite enthralled with them.”

  Laughter burst from Adyn again, the woman stopping on a landing until she was able to gather herself to reply. “I am speaking of your heart, not your…assets.”

  With a grin, Narine nodded. “Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.” She continued down the stairs. “The fact my mind went there first makes me wonder if he has influenced me as much as I have him.”

  Narine reached the bottom and turned down the corridor as Adyn caught up. “I would say he has.”

  She gripped Narine’s arm, stopping her. The smile melting away, Adyn’s expression grew serious. “I want you to know I am proud of you. Since leaving Tiadd, and even more since your father’s death, you have grown. You have shown backbone, standing up for yourself and risking much for the sake of others. I would prefer you did a better job of avoiding danger, but I cannot fault you for your intentions. You have become an amazing and courageous woman.”

  The sentiment struck a chord, filling Narine with a sense of satisfaction she had rarely experienced. Despite her best efforts, tears welled up. She rubbed them away and struggled for a proper reply. Finally, she wrapped her arms about the taller woman and squeezed her close.

  “I love you.”

  Adyn smoothed her hair. “I love you, too. However, crying totally destroys your complexion. You had better gather yourself, or your boyfriend is going to be put off when he sees you.”

  Chuckling, Narine stepped back. She wiped her eyes dry and took a deep breath to calm herself. “All right. Let’s join the others.”

  They continued down the corridor, through the doorway, and into the receiving hall, which was crowded with people.

  Half of the seers, a score of serving staff, and a handful of dwarven warriors occupied the receiving hall. Feeling surrounded, Brogan fought the urge to draw Augur and clear some space.

  His pack at his feet, he stood beside Blythe, her hand on his arm. The contact was distracting, but he would not complain…not when he reveled in the distraction. He glanced at her, and she gave him a smile, her eyes brightening.

  “Why all the people?” he asked quietly.

  Blythe leaned close, pointing toward two women in white, the crowd of seers parting for them. “Here come Xionne and Zhialta. I suspect we will soon find out.”

  Narine and Adyn entered the room, both women smiling as they joined the group. The princess settled beside Jace, who wore a grimace. She leaned close, kissed his cheek, and whispered into his ear. Gripping his arm and pressing against him, she turned toward the approaching seers. The thief’s frown slowly turned to a smirk.

  As the two sisters approached, Zhialta raised a hand high into the air. The buzzing conversation trailed off, all eyes turning toward the two seers.

  “Attention,” Zhialta said in a firm voice. “Mother is about to speak.”

  Xionne gave the woman a nod before facing Brogan and his companions. “The Seers of Kelmar, Guardians of the Oracle, and Servants to Vandasal thank you. Your brave deeds saved lives yesterday, and the quest you are about to undertake could save many, many more. Our prayers are with you. May your search be fruitful and your hand be guided by Vandasal himself.”

  Zhialta said loudly, “Thank you, Mother.” She then stepped closer and spoke in a normal voice. “Our soldiers have swept the tunnels, ensuring they are cleared of darkspawn. Unfortunately, the enemy slaughtered your horses. As fate would have it, we had previously arranged an alternate form of travel, one which will swiftly bring you closer to your selected destinations.”

  Brogan frowned. “Destinations?”

  “We spoke of two prophecies, each describing a trio of enchanted objects you must possess. Since we have diverging auguries, each mentioning different objects, we have noted the names missing from each and included in the other.

  “At this point, your paths diverge. You must split up into two groups, one seeking the Cultivators–”

  “Cultivators?” Rhoa interrupted. “They exist?”

  “You must admit the existence of Makers, Rhoa.” Salvon gestured toward Rawk and Algoron. “Would you truly be surprised to find Cultivators are real, as well?”

  She blinked and shook her head. “No. I just… I don’t understand. Why have so many years passed since they have been seen, so long since they have occupied the pages of recorded history?”

  Zhialta said, “I suggest you save that question for the Cultivators. You may also know them as elves.”

  “Elves?!” Brogan blurted before glancing toward Blythe. In his culture, stories of elves, the demons of the forest, were used to frighten children.

  “Yes, Brogan Reisner, The Jaded Warrior. You will soon meet them yourself. The Scarlet Archer, She Who is Blind by Birth, and your two doomed Maker friends must journey east in search of the Living Forest. Find the forest and you will find the Cultivators.

  “In their possession is the Arc of Radiance.”

  Zhialta turned toward Jace, Narine, and Adyn. “And that leaves you three – She Who Bends Magic Until It Breaks, The Indentured Guardian, and The Charlatan of Ages. You must travel to Cor Cordium.”

  With a questioning glance toward Narine, Jace asked, “The Enchanter’s Isle?”

  The woman nodded. “There, you shall locate and retrieve the Band of Amalgamation.”

  Jace frowned at the seer. “What is this Band of blabidity-blah anyhow?”

  “Amalgamation,” Zhialta replied. “What it is, we do not know. We only acknowledge it as necessity as detailed in prophecy.”

  The thief snorted. “How will we know what we seek? How do we even know it’s real? What if this entire thing is a bunch of nonsense and we are merely wasting our time, running around chasing stories someone made up long ago?”

  Xionne said, “Were you not there when the prophecy was read aloud? Do you deny its ability to detail past events?”

  “Well, I was there, and I guess it was accurate.”

  “Both of these prophecies are hundreds of years old.” She tilted her head in question. “How could the seers have recorded the events of today so long ago if their abilities were not real?”

  His mouth opened and closed again, his eyes glancing around the room. Finally, he shrugged. “You make a valid point. Say we go and find this Band of gobbly-gook–”

  “Amalgamation,” Zhialta corrected, visibly exasperated.

  “Fine. Whatever,” he snapped back. “Let’s say we find it. What then?”

  “Then,” Zhialta replied, “we will provide the next instruction.”

  Jace threw his hands into the air. “Of course you will. No sense in providing it now, right? You wouldn’t want us to know what is coming next.” He shook his head. “No. Better to keep us in the dark. It’s only our lives we risk for your stupid prophecy.”

  “You misunderstand, Jace,” Xionne replied in a quiet, calm voice. “We cannot provide the next instruction at this time because it remains unclear. We hope, with the objects of power in hand, the path will become apparent.”

  The thief crossed his arms but remained quiet.

  “Now that you have been informed, your escort will guide you outside.” Xionne dipped her head in deference. “Be well, heroes, and may Vandasal guide you.”

  Rhoa carried a heavy pack over her travel cloak. The dwarfs escorting them carried additional gear, a few holding up glowing orbs to illuminate the dark tunnel and approaching stairwell. The party had already passed the area of the battle, the stone floors stained with dark blood. A day had passed, but Rhoa could not shake the image of the goblin shaman, his sword prepared to cleave through her until Jace saved her. She felt bad for her past treatment of the thief. He had proven hi
mself to be something other than the selfish rogue he portrayed.

  The climb up the stairs required far more effort than the earlier descent, the group stopping twice to rest at Salvon’s request. When they reached the top of the stairs, the pace quickened, and the party continued along the path leading outside the mountain.

  The farther they walked, the colder the tunnel grew. At the onset, Rhoa had been sweltering beneath the extra clothing, but that soon changed, her sweat cooling and a chill gathering. Light came from ahead, growing brighter with each step, outlining the silhouettes of the dwarfs in the lead. Hadnoddon stopped at the small cave where they had stored the furs at their arrival and began handing them out. Rhoa eagerly took her coat, buttoned it to her chin, and donned the mitts she had been given. With a fur hat on her head and cloak back over her shoulders, she reclaimed her pack and waited while the others dressed. When ready, Hadnoddon led them toward the exit.

  The tunnel opened to reveal a world covered in white, so bright she had to squint. She now understood why the dwarfs all wore helmets, each sporting a tinted shield at the front to dim the light. Rawk had donned his tinted glasses, and Algoron had acquired a helmet for himself, leaving only the humans without something to shield their eyes.

  As they emerged from the tunnel, Rhoa’s breath visibly swirled in the air with each exhale. While the sun was bright, it produced little heat. The snow beneath her boots, deep enough to reach her knees, crunched with each step. She squatted and scooped up a handful with a mitt. Light and fluffy, it spilled out as she stood.

  “We are in luck. A bed of fresh snow will help us make better time,” Hadnoddon said as the others gathered around him. There were twenty Guardians in total, the force giving the impression of a war party rather than an expedition.

  “Better time?” Jace sounded doubtful. “Won’t it slow the horses?”

  “Heh,” Hadnoddon grunted. “Your horses are dead, remember? Doesn’t affect us anyway. The seers arranged for another, more suitable form of transportation. Come along.”