Carrus, meanwhile, plowed through the field, leaving both sides of the battle in awe. He made his way toward Mzark, who seemed to welcome the challenge. The oversized commander pulled out a halberd and wielded it with two hands. The massive weapon flew through the air and came crashing toward its target. Carrus barely avoided it and, with little effort, Mzark swept it back into the air and brought it down again. The commander looked like a chubby child swinging a sheaf of wheat.
Carrus kept his eyes alert for an opening, hoping the man would tire quickly from the exertion, but he didn’t even look winded after a dozen powerful strikes. Off to the side, a mage was chanting a spell frantically, aiming it at the commander, and Carrus realized that she was providing healing magic to the leader so that he would not tire easily. Unless someone took out the healer, their duel would be a draw.
But Carrus wasn’t content with a stalemate, nor would he rely on another to subdue the mage. Instead, he raised his sonorous voice into the air and charged. The halberd swept in like lightning and Carrus blocked with his shield. The concussive force cracked off a large portion of the shield and sent jarring pain up the warrior’s arm. He did not relent, even as Mzark stepped back and brought the halberd around again. Carrus recovered from the first strike and rushed in, charging angrily. In came the halberd and down went Carrus, catching the weapon in his left arm and dragging it to the sand with his weight.
Mzark jerked forward with the sudden move and yanked on his weapon to reclaim it, but Carrus had thrown his whole body on top of the halberd. Awkwardly lying over it, he turned on his side and swept outward with his war hammer. Mzark leaped away, releasing his grip on the halberd, which gave Carrus a moment to stand. As the commander reached for his fallen weapon, Carrus lunged and used the momentum to throw his war hammer into the commander’s side, crushing bone. The heavyset fellow collapsed in a heap.
Carrus wasted no time. He hurried to the commander’s side and reclaimed his weapon. The mage was still sending healing energies and already the internal wound was starting to heal and, as the pain lessened, Mzark’s face eased up, meaning he would rise up in a few moments and continue fighting.
Turning on the spot, Carrus whipped around and launched his war hammer again, this time aiming for the support mage. The unexpected attack caught her off guard and she crumpled when the the hammer struck her in the abdomen. Carrus swept back around and mashed his fist into Mzark’s face, rendering him unconscious.
Soon after, the Hathren troops lost the will to fight. Kitalla’s legs were tended to and then she and Carrus brought order back to the camp. The Hathrens were corralled in the center with Kitalla’s forces surrounding them on all sides. Only three people had died during the scuffle, and all of them had been Kitalla’s. She took the losses out on Mzark by punching him hard in the gut three times.
“What now?” Mzark growled when he could talk again.
“We trade,” Kitalla answered, hovering over him with a threat in her eyes. “A host of us will return to the castle and there, you will confirm the—what was the word you used?—authenticity of the decree. And while you are there, you will reform your ways for the designated year or spend it in the dungeon.”
“I’d rather die.”
She leaned in close. “I could make that happen.” The expression on her face was all he needed to believe her. “Good. You will leave us thirty of your men. The rest of you will return to the castle with fifteen of my men. And I assure you, it is in your best interest not to turn against them, for if you show up at the castle with prisoners, or without them at all, there will be consequences. On the other hand, if you arrive with them all intact, you will find the king most welcoming.”
“How can I even trust what you say? If I kill your men and return to the king, I will be a hero for ridding the land of men who have turned against him.”
She shrugged. “If the messenger lied about the decree, then perhaps. If it isn’t a lie, then think about the repercussions. Yet if you prefer, or if you think you can’t behave, then I could send you back there as prisoners. I’m sure there is enough unburned rope here to secure you.”
Mzark growled.
“Good,” Kitalla said. “Now, when you return, let his royal majesty know that a host of Kallisorians will be following you a couple days hence.”
“What!”
“Yes, that’s our next destination. We will subdue them as we have done you, and then we will send them to the castle to be folded into the new peace. And little by little, my team and I will funnel away the fighters on the front line until everyone is trying to eke out a living in your castle. Any questions?”
Mzark blinked innumerable times, trying to make sense of her declaration. “You intend to populate the castle with Kallisorians?”
She nodded. “And Hathrens. And you will see that the king will support that.”
“Impossible.”
“Well, if I’m wrong, then you get to be the advance guard warning the king about the arrival of the ‘enemy.’ I suggest you pack light so you can get there all the faster.” With that, she turned and walked away, seeking out Darch, who had already agreed to lead the refugees back to the castle.
Mzark’s face twitched, and he looked more distressed trying to work out what had happened than he had after all the damage he took from Carrus.
Chapter 21
Volumes of Lore
Randler and Dariak spent countless hours and days poring through the books in Delminor’s library. The sheer amount of information was unfathomable and it said much about Delminor’s attention to detail and desire to learn. The library itself was housed along sprawling corridors and though there were reference cards and books, Randler often found himself scratching his head, wondering where he should turn next.
It was easier for Dariak, having spent time there before, and he checked in with Randler periodically, but often he was quiet, flipping through endless pages of text. His father had conducted innumerable experiments relating to the shards of the Red Jade and, even with the indexes, there was a lot of ground to cover.
“Randler!” he called out one tiresome day. “Come here; you have to read this.”
The bard struggled on his weakened legs to reach Dariak, who had tried multiple times to use healing magic to repair the damage. Though Dariak had learned of connecting to the magical energies in an intimate way, healing magic still escaped him when he needed it most. Only in his battle against Pyron had he truly shown mastery over the power. Now he could only manage to keep Randler from hurting; the strength in the man’s legs was another matter entirely.
When Randler finally reached him, he fell into a chair and took a moment to catch his breath, though he could see the odd expression on Dariak’s face and it made him curious. “What have you found?”
Dariak handed over a burned leather tome that was frayed around the edges. It seemed to have fallen into a fire at some point and was hastily rescued. “It’s an interesting bit of history relating to Hathreneir, Kallisor, and the jades.” With the book on Randler’s lap, Dariak flipped open to a particular section that was scrawled in the heavy hand of Delminor.
It is said that history is written by the victor, and whosoever it is that wins then sheds himself in a heroic light, battling back the forces of evil that had thought—however foolishly—to try to vanquish him. In our lands, this is a strange paradox, for both kingdoms have taken turns thwarting the efforts of the other, and always with disastrous results. Upon reading our histories, we all speak of the evil ‘others’ across the border, but no one ever quite claims victory. I find this perplexing, for it suggests that neither side ever feels as if it has truly won.
Randler looked up from the book. “He makes a very interesting point.”
“Yes. And in the last war, there was an effort to break that stalemate, if you recall.”
Randler nodded. “The kings decided to bring about one last hurrah and whoever won that fight would tip the tide and claim victory over both side
s.”
“And they were stopped one more time,” Dariak added. “In part, this time, by my father.”
“Do you think he intended to restore that balance?” Randler asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know. Perhaps a journal entry will reveal his intentions, but I haven’t gotten that far yet.” His voice was solemn. “Either way, he gave his life to make an impact; I just wish it had done more than pause the fighting. Anyway, keep reading.”
Eons ago—if you will allow me to be melodramatic for I cannot currently recall the exact span—there were mages working in Kallisor to help fertilize the land. Now, if you know anything of the history of Kallisor, then you know that magic is grossly discouraged, and the king would have such mages slain for their efforts. However, it had been a difficult crop year and Hathren forces were gearing up for battle, assured of a victory in the time of hunger. Thus the king himself had decreed the help of those mages, for magic has always been accepted by the Kallisorian king when it has suited him—and if you are a Kallisorian reading this, do not be blinded by fealty; read the histories.
Randler laughed. “He has quite a sense of humor.”
Dariak grinned. “That was an order. He wasn’t joking.”
Well, those nature mages worked with the earth and water mages and they did their very best to bring food forth from the land. Now, there is some speculation as to why, but something went very wrong. Energies swept up in wild torrents and the land became plagued with a famine that lasted for a long year and a half. Hathrens took advantage of their weakened foe, but their spells went awry as well, and the warriors of Kallisor were able to stave off the enemy in yet another stalemate.
One theory among the lesser informed is that the Hathrens had infiltrated the Kallisorian ranks and boobytrapped the efforts to fertilize the land. This is nonsense, and originates from the minds of small thinkers who cannot see beyond their own hatred. I am not saying that such tactics have never been employed, but it is foolish to think the Kallisorian king, who protests the use of magic, would have allowed any strange mage to work magic in his land. He would, of course, have used the mages he keeps on staff for such emergencies. The likelihood of infiltration there is minimal, for it would be a lifetime commitment for a rather small chance of retaliation. Again, that is not unheard of, but improbable, and when compared against my findings it becomes irrelevant, too.
Randler let out a low whistle. “Famine happens. It’s crazy to think it had anything to do with magic.”
“I think initially it was a natural famine, but then it was made worse by the magic. But he isn’t finished yet.”
Randler rubbed his chin and turned back to the entry.
Another theory suggests that the reason for the banning of magic in Kallisor stems from the errant energies of such events. This is more plausible but it does not account for the king’s willingness to allow those mages to perform their tasks. In any regard, it is only when one cross-references other major happenings that the truth emerges. Bear with me.
After the unexplained famine in Kallisor, there was a severe drought in Hathreneir. In an effort to keep the populace from dying of dehydration—or, in some unwelcomed and ‘traitorous’ plea of asking Kallisorians for help—the mages banded together and drew water from every source they could reach their magics into. This pulled water from plants, grass, animals, the humid air, and so on. No source of water was safe from the efforts of the mages. The magnitude of their work had a drastically negative effect upon the land. The once-fertile fields of Hathreneir died. It started around the castle where the topology changed. The dirt and grass became dead things and over time their decay withered them down to sand. In truth, it is more complicated than that, but understanding the basics is enough for now. The point is that Hathreneir was weakened and Kallisor attacked. Lo and behold, the attack was repelled, and not because of greater power, but because the climate was changing and the Kallisorians were ill-prepared for it and they could not endure the changes.
“That’s… amazing,” Randler breathed. “I’ve listened to the major histories and that tale was not among them. The desert simply began to appear and no one had ever hinted at a reason why.”
Dariak shrugged. “Surely, the Hathren mages wouldn’t want it known that their skills had caused it. That would make magic seem even more dangerous than ever before, and maybe the ban in Kallisor would become even more absolute.”
“And worse,” Randler surmised, “magic could have been curtailed here too if the people knew of it and panicked.” He considered for a moment, “But the Hathren king would have known about it, wouldn’t he? How else would that information eventually get to Delminor? The truth would have to be out there.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, wouldn’t the king have risen up to try to ban the magic himself then? I mean, the mages had turned his castle lands to a barren landscape. Even if you love the mages, I would think some restrictions would be put in place to prevent such a thing from happening again.”
“That’s a good point,” Dariak conceded. “But read on and that may explain why.”
So here is where the connections come to be: in neither case, from famine to drought, could a team of mages actually draw enough magical power to effect such major alterations to the land. It is an impossible feat. Even a set of a hundred spellcasters working in unison could not draw the power necessary to change the climate of a section of land. If you believe it is possible, then you must not understand the scope of magic or the interconnectedness of the various forms of energy in our world. You may, then, wish to confer with other texts better suited to your level of knowledge and return here when you can properly understand.
Dariak interrupted, “He’s actually not being condescending there.”
“I can’t imagine how not.”
With a shrug, Dariak replied, “I guess I just knew him and he was really trying to say that it was impossible to grasp the idea without knowing the rest first.”
“Like trying to build a house from the top down.”
“Exactly.”
There were other catalysts in those events. I draw your attention to them now, because I have come to realize that the shards of the Red Jade have a deeper connection to our world than anyone has yet guessed. What mage would have the gumption to believe he can reseed a famished land? Only one with the support of the nature jade, and perhaps the earth jade. But something went wrong when he tried to tap into the powers. I believe he had used quite a good measure of the nature jade’s ability and the jade needed replenishment before it could continue to serve. However, the jades are seemingly indestructible and infinitely powered. Where else would such an object refill its lost energy but to draw it from the earth itself? You see, I believe the dire famine in Kallisor was a result of the nature jade withdrawing its support from the land, rather than offering its skills. Why would that happen? I could discuss it at length—and perhaps I shall in a future tome—but for now, suffice it to say that the nature jade took the energy it needed for some desperate reason.
The drought in Hathreneir is similar, and was most likely the cooperative efforts of the earth and water jades. It would stand to reason that the nature jade was still in Kallisor, possibly being examined and probed to try to release its hold over the famine, the effects of which lasted a good ten years or so, by some accounts. The mages in Hathreneir would have heard about the efforts of the nature mages and they would have—true to form—wanted to improve upon the attempt and thus succeed where others had failed. However, in using the two jades in unison, the mages created a similar depletion of the energies in their own land, and the effects were devastatingly worse. Even today, the desert continues to expand and grow. I wonder if I, or my colleagues, will find a means of ending the ever-stretching death and halt the sandy wasteland from reaching the entire borders of the land. So far, no one has succeeded.
“Unchecked, it will likely spread to Kallisor, too, won’t it?”
“Yes,” Da
riak answered. “And at some point, no amount of physical labor or magical spell will be able to sustain life here. It has been a difficult adjustment over the years as the desert has expanded. But if you notice, even with the sun overhead, it has never been blisteringly hot like you would expect from a real desert. Hot, for certain, but not deadly.”
“You’re saying that it’s a magical sort of desert then? That some kind of spell is permeating through the land and altering it?”
“My father said it, yes, in that ‘other tome’ he referenced.”
“Then…” Randler stopped and then looked up at Dariak. “Wait, Dariak, is that why he was gathering the jades?”
“He had many reasons, but yes, that is one of them. He wanted to understand why the jades were draining the land and perhaps bringing them together would be the key. That’s another discussion, though. There’s more here for now.”
Randler set his questions aside and continued reading.
Perhaps you disagree with my assessment that the jades are responsible for the avid destruction. You are welcome to disagree, but then go find proof to the contrary. Until then, I will maintain my assertions, for I have amassed information regarding countless events throughout the history of our lands where wild moments altered the very fabric of our reality. One further case in point, the feral creatures. Old tales never speak of them, unless they have been translated by some foolish bard seeking to craft wild tales without a thread of truth. I’m all for embellishment, but it ought to remain within the realm of reality. I digress.
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