The Forgotten Tribe

by Stephen J Wolf

  It took a few minutes for Urrith’s eyes to adjust to the illumination. As he gazed around, he realized suddenly that they weren’t outside at all. They were in a large stone chamber somewhere and it was lit by a series of blue-burning sconces along the walls.

  “Magic?” he gasped.

  His guide looked down at him and pulled a cowl from his white-haired head. “Welcome to the Mage Underground, young one.”

  Chapter 14

  To Delminor’s House They Go

  King Prethos acquired the two best horses in the area for Dariak and Randler, and he had Chancellor Ieran prepare a veritable feast for them to take on the road. He even sampled the wares at random to ensure them that none of it was poisoned. He wanted there to be no delays in their departure, and though it filled Dariak with concern, he had to set it aside. With saddlebags loaded, they set out to the northeast toward Delminor’s laboratory, the cold morning their only other companion.

  Travel wasn’t easy for Randler, but he made no complaints. The special braces that Astrith had made for him held well as he tried to straddle the horse and keep himself aloft. Luckily, the king had also chosen well and the horse was a strong, but tame, beast and Randler had little he needed to do.

  Dariak also noted the ease with which his horse rode the sand, simply trotting along as if it knew the destination and had full confidence that they would face no difficulties along the way. The mage only wished that were true, but once they left the immediate area of the castle, it was likely that the desert beasts would swarm around them. If he had his magic, he wouldn’t mind as much. As it was, any creature they met would need to be regarded with care. He only hoped they would leave the magic-null area before any encounters.

  Randler tried a few times to focus on crafting new songs as they went, hoping the task would occupy him enough so he wouldn’t notice the repetitive jostling of the horse underneath him. Each step the beast took was steady and strong, though it still required effort and a press of his legs to keep from sliding off. In the end, it was too much effort to allow him to focus on the things he wanted.

  It was unfortunate because so much had happened and he had been so enwrapped in the events, he hadn’t had an opportunity to write any new ballads to record those events. Frast alone deserved a dramatic fugue to commemorate his commitment to Randler and his great sacrifice. The combination of the jades into a flying maelstrom of magic was also worth a song and Randler struggled to find the right words and notes to immortalize what happened.

  His mother would laugh at him for it. She had never supported his bardic talents, wishing instead that he had followed her example in becoming a secret mage in Vestular. He had no doubts about her ambition. With his help, they could have potentially overrun the whole northern quadrant of Kallisor and challenged the king himself all in an effort to lift the ban on magic in the land. The irony, of course, was that such a show of magical strength would have fortified the ban rather than lift it. Still, Randler suspected his mother would have relished the challenge, for it would have put her life on the line, with his support, and she would have had to summon her inner strength to win. If she won, Sharice would have reveled in the victory. If she lost, then it wouldn’t much matter to her corpse anyway.

  But he hated magic, when it came down to it. It had only brought pain to his life, in so many ways. Never mind the times its energies had healed his wounds; he never would have needed such help if magic hadn’t jeopardized him in the first place. His recent injuries were Dariak’s fault, for he had toppled the tree that crushed Randler’s legs, leaving him in this tenuous state. Yet even grander than that, Randler’s whole original quest had been to find and bury the jades so their powers would fade into antiquity. Instead, he had fallen in love with Dariak and turned his mind around to support the mage’s journey, though every bit of progress always set them back somehow.

  Even now, they had claimed all the jades, but the shards were completely inert, leaving behind a shroud over the castle and surrounding area that subdued all magic in the process. There was no telling how long the effects would last, nor how far they extended. The people of Hathreneir relied on magic for many things, and they were heading for difficult times without it. Nature, water, air, earth, and healing mages all worked symbiotically to produce crops from the desert sand. Now their skills were useless and Randler didn’t envy King Prethos’ task of keeping the peace once the people realized the severity of the problem.

  Randler shook his head. Part of him was dumbfounded that he felt any sort of pity for the Hathren king, yet at the same time he knew that running a kingdom wasn’t an easy or straightforward task. Trying to keep the peace among his closest friends was challenging enough. Dealing with the rampant demands of an entire country had to be daunting.

  He suspected that was why royal lineage carried down the way it did, with princes and princesses taking over for their fallen liege. Each generation was raised with the knowledge that they too would run the kingdom and their childhoods were deluged in matters of state and diplomacy. A common man couldn’t easily take over the throne with a show of force, for his rule could never last. Difficult decisions were sometimes necessary, and only a respected ruler could withstand the backlash. After all, King Prethos had pillaged his own towns of their young men and women to add to his army and none of those villages had banded together in rebellion.

  Perhaps there was some unknown secret among the kings that allowed them to drain the resources of their people in such a way and still retain control. Why didn’t the people rebel? Why hadn’t they ever?

  Randler’s horse tromped along and the bouncing reminded him that he was alone with Dariak and the mage hadn’t tried to

  talk to him at all. He wondered if he should break the silence, but he always filled the emptiness. If Dariak wanted to talk, he could start the conversation once in a while. He knew he was just frustrated and in pain, so he let the thought pass.

  Instead, he considered his current quest. He was part of a small team rebelling against the kings of two lands and hoping to bring about a new and lasting peace that would forever change the future of those kingdoms. He wracked his memories for other tales of heroes undertaking a similar quest, and couldn’t think of any. Each time he thought he had a name of some other Dariak, it slipped away as if he wasn’t allowed to remember it.

  He knew he was feeling delirious because his mind carried his thoughts to an odd place. He wondered idly if there were some mental magic that prevented him—and everyone else in both lands—from thinking of heroes who had risen against the injustice of the kings, trying to end the wars. Only Kitalla had ever shown control over the mind in any sort of magical sense, yet perhaps she wasn’t the only one with such a power. Maybe, even, no one knew they had the ability and just exuded the subterfuge naturally. Or, better yet, maybe the kings themselves were trained as children to channel the unknown and secret power, and their rule was bent on enslaving all their subjects to serve them in every way imaginable, and only the threat of war kept anyone from discovering the secret and dispelling the power.

  Hadn’t Gabrion’s own Mira forgotten the tragedy of Savvron that occurred when she had been abducted? The warrior had told Kitalla of the bizarre shifting of events in Mira’s recollection. Perhaps her marriage to the king had infused her with the mind magic and had warped her memories…

  “Randler!”

  He heard it, for sure, but Dariak’s voice was so far away. He didn’t even want to talk to the mage right now. He was onto something big, something unimagined before, something that could help them to change the tide forever.

  “Randler!”

  He shied away from the resonant tunes of his lover’s calls, finding them irrelevant to his thoughts. Too much else to—

  “Randler!”

  His reverie broke and Randler felt a searing heat burn through his eyes, and it took a few moments to realize that it was only the sun. He wasn’t moving, though, and Dariak was racing toward him in a panic
. Apparently, Randler had fallen from his horse and laid supine upon the sand.

  “Randler, what happened? What is it? Are you hurt? Randler!”

  “It’s no wonder you didn’t want me on this trip. It was stupid of me to come,” he said sourly, though he wasn’t sure where his annoyance was really directed, only that it involved Dariak somehow.

  Dariak looked hurt at the comment. “Randler…”

  “Just get me up.”

  It took some time to make that happen. Randler’s body was weak from the ride and Dariak decided they needed to set up a makeshift camp so they could rest. He went about digging a wide circular trench in the sand to deter sandorpions and sand rodia from bothering them. Tethering the horses wasn’t possible, so he linked their reins together and kept them nearby.

  “I’m dead weight to you,” Randler noted once Dariak settled down.

  “You’re not. Randler, what are you even saying?”

  He didn’t know what compelled him. Perhaps it was Kitalla’s own question before they had left the castle. “Why do you love me, Dariak?”

  The mage blinked hard. “I don’t understand…”

  “What is it about me that you love?”

  Dariak stared at him and realized that Randler needed an answer. “Randler… You’re amazing,” he fished for some place to start. “You’re smart, you’re kind. You’re talented. You—What’s this all about?”

  “Those aren’t reasons to love someone.”

  Dariak’s voice grew annoyed. “What? What do you want me to say? You’re gorgeous? You have lovely eyes?”

  “You can do better than that.” He stared for a moment then squinted slightly. “Can’t you?”

  Dariak was quiet for a time, too focused on Randler’s reasons for this odd line of questioning than actually finding an acceptable answer. The silence hit the bard too sharply and he lowered his head in sadness.

  “I see.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Randler. What is this all about?”

  “Ask me.”

  “What?”

  “Ask me what I asked you.”

  “What you—Why do you love me?”

  Randler lifted his head and his russet eyes were wide with shimmering tears that did not fall; they glistened and gave a powerful edge to his words. “I love your determination, Dariak. You never accept defeat, regardless of the challenges placed before you. From fallen comrades to insurmountable battles, you press yourself onward, hard, and you find a means of grasping just one more ounce of inspiration to succeed. You’re driven in a way that I’ve never seen in a man. Gabrion’s quest for Mira was but a shadow of your journey, for you forged the path each and every day, and your goal isn’t clear-cut or finitely defined. You press on because you believe in something so strongly that your very soul demands it, and you let nothing stop you. I love you because you show me a way to live that’s worth living.”

  Dariak gulped at the recitation, understanding now why Randler considered his answers so weak and pathetic. “Randler…”

  “Dariak, time and again, I’ve been shown the truth of you and I’ve denied it every time. I don’t know that I can anymore. Deny it, that is.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You’re always going to pursue some lofty quest, and I’m just a sidekick along for the ride. I’m here to chronicle your efforts, nothing more.” He raised his hand to silence the protest. “Sure we’ve had our dalliances and they’ve been adventurous in their own right, but when it comes down to it, your quest will always be more important than me.”

  “Where is this coming from, Randler?”

  “I’ve spent too much time watching you,” he answered. “You look out for me, it’s true, but in the end, I’m more of a liability to your quest.”

  “You’re no burden!”

  He waved his arms in a giant circle. “Look at us now. We’ve stopped because I’m weak and fell from my horse. You’d be riding on if not for this.”

  “Now you’re going to wallow for coming with me?” His voice took on edge of anger.

  “No, no, it isn’t that. Every step of the way, I’ve been a distraction from your quest. Even now, as we were riding here, my mind was wandering off on some random tangent and it cost us time on this trek. But that isn’t my point either. Your focus is the quest. I’m a bonus.”

  “Stop this.”

  “I can be your lover, Dariak. But I’m not your love.”

  “What are you—?”

  Randler shook his head. “I know you don’t follow my line of thoughts at times. Like in the woods when I remembered those times as a child and they resonated with me against your feelings for Gabrion. Now, it’s something else.”

  “What else?” the mage asked, his voice emotionless.

  “The kings, the wars, the one unknown magic in the land and your compulsion to crash against it all. You’ve taken on a centuries-old task that no one else has even dreamed of doing. There are no tales of other warriors rising up against the kings like this. It’s always about the kings fighting each other and the heroes that win this battle or that. But you, you’ve broken out of it, like you’ve awoken from a dream that they all cast upon the people. And because you’re the only one who’s awake, your destiny is far different than any of us who are still sleeping.”

  “You’re… losing me.”

  “I’m saying that your quest is bigger than your love for me. Your quest has always taken a greater priority in all ways and in all things. I could recount so many events this past year that prove that. And I’m not saying you’re wrong to pursue your quest so strongly. I’m pointing out that I understand it now; your first priority is ever to your quest. I’m just an amusement along the way.”

  “Randler! This is ridiculous.”

  “No, Dariak. It’s the truth and if you sit and think about it, you’ll realize it’s true.” He stopped and waited.

  Dariak looked at him, shaking his head slowly, but he couldn’t think of any words to use in argument. As the silence hung in the air, he wondered if the bard was right or if he was just too shocked to think clearly.

  “I’ll still be by your side,” Randler offered after he couldn’t wait any longer, his heart aching. He had hoped Dariak would yell and scream and tell him he was wrong. The silence hurt. “We’ll still have our laughs and… our fun. For now, at least. I still believe in your quest and I do love you in an unfathomable way. I just know that I will always take second place… at best.”

  “I’ll prove you wrong, Randler. You’ll see.”

  The bard shook his head. “Don’t. It will only cause you to fail the one thing that matters to you most.” Then, only to placate Dariak, he added, “Once the wars are done and we have some time, we’ll revisit this and then we will have time to be together properly.”

  “I’d rather give up this quest and be with you now.”

  But they both knew it wasn’t true and Randler protected Dariak’s pride with his answer. “If you did, my love for you would die. Remember what I told you; it’s your dedication that draws me in. So, giving up on your quest would also be giving up on me. You need to stay focused on the quest, Dariak. Anything less, and all of this is for naught.”

  Dariak took a few steadying breaths, focusing his eyes on Randler. “My quest was never in question until now.”

  Dariak didn’t receive the response he thought he would get. Instead, Randler nodded, “I know. That’s my point. Your quest was always the certainty. Always the priority. Always the source of your drive. Always the one thing you had to plan for, to strive for. It’s not your fault. It’s who you are. It’s what brought you to Kallisor in the first place. It’s what enticed me to follow you.”

  “You followed me for the jades,” Dariak argued weakly, knowing it was useless. As badly as it hurt, he realized deep down that Randler was right. He cleared his throat a few times, trying to get it to work again. “What now?”

  “Same as before,” the bard said calmly. “We
get to your father’s laboratory and research everything he knew about the jades so we can bring about the culmination of your quest.”

  “And then?” he breathed.

  “I’m sure there will be something new to tend to.”

  They sat in silence for a while, and when Randler was ready to ride, they pressed onward.

  Chapter 15

  The Mage

  Underground

  Urrith was led through a winding maze of stone corridors buried underneath the soil. His guide escorted him without answering his questions, merely prompting him to keep moving. The youth owed his life to the man and so he obeyed for now, but the lack of answers was getting on his nerves.

  Flashes of light flared all around the place. Some passages lit red and gold while others glimmered in blue; all the while, robed figures ran this way and that. Urrith could hear the archaic language of the mages echoing in parts of the spidery halls and it made him feel entirely uncomfortable. The villagers of Kallisor and Hathreneir had their own accents and dialects, yet they all spoke the same language. Here, it was as if everyone used the mage tongue to communicate and he felt terribly out of place as if no one would understand him and he would have no idea how to communicate with the rest. It was an odd sensation for the teen, being surrounded by dozens of people while feeling utterly alone. Though as he considered it, he supposed that it wasn’t too different than his first arrival at the Kallisorian outpost.

  A gnarled hand clutched Urrith’s shoulder and prompted him to turn left. He did so and smacked into a wall. He pulled back but the mage pressed his body forward, shoving Urrith into the stone. He tried to resist but the rock wall slowly drew him in, like sinking into a mud pit, and expelled him into a chamber on the other side. Urrith took stock of the setting.