The Forgotten Tribe

by Stephen J Wolf

  “You won’t get away with running off with him. You’ll only make things worse, whatever you were planning.”

  Gabrion’s brows furrowed. “I was keeping him safe from the bandits.”

  “Likely story,” she sneered. “The only bandits tonight were the ones more loyal to the earl than to the king. And since you’re down here right now…”

  Gabrion lowered his sword. “You weren’t trying to take him back to the king?”

  Alosia snarled. “I thought I had explained it to you well enough that I intend to obey my king!”

  They stared at each other angrily until at last Gabrion decided she was telling the truth. He didn’t know why he believed her, or Brallok for that matter, but he did. “The earl and six of his fighters are in the room behind us, all wounded but alive. And there is a dead man in the back corner.” Four soldiers went off to secure the room.

  Alosia’s eyes kept wandering as Gabrion stood naked in the flickering torchlight. “How do you even explain this?”

  “Rousted from bed in a panic,” he answered brusquely. “How about handing over a cloak or something.”

  “No,” she grinned lasciviously. “I think this should be your new outfit.”

  Chills ran down Gabrion’s spine, for her comment reminded him vaguely of Kitalla. “Does anyone have anything they can spare so I can cover up?” he asked. One of the fighters offered a long tunic and Gabrion accepted it gratefully.

  At last he turned to Brallok, Perrios, and the old woman. “Are you all okay?”

  “Yes,” Brallok nodded, holding Perrios carefully while the old woman sobbed at the loss of her husband. “We should get going now, I think.”

  Gabrion nodded, leaning down. “Meriad, are you injured? Come on; we need to get above.”

  “But Yorrish!”

  “We’ll bring him with us. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 29

  The Last Book

  With aching eyes and tired fingers, Dariak put down the last of his father’s diaries. A deep sorrow rested on his face, and he didn’t know what to do next. The mage stretched and paced around the library, his thoughts awhirl.

  Randler was sleeping, a book open on his chest. The tome rose and fell softly with each gentle breath, and Dariak’s heart ached with the turn their relationship had taken. He loved the bard as much he had ever loved another person, yet clearly it wasn’t enough. What he didn’t understand was whether Randler’s demands were normal or excessive. Was Dariak’s love overshadowed by his quest as the bard thought? When he considered it, he agreed, much to his dismay.

  In the end, it might not matter anyway, he thought, turning back to where he had set the book down. It hadn’t had a pleasant ending at all and for the first time ever, he wished his father had been wrong. Yet all the evidence pointed to the same thing: to unite the jades, someone would have to die.

  The weight in his chest grew heavier, for he understood the cost and he felt he would pay it when the time came. But would the others continue his mission if he was gone? Sure, they had done so in the past, but his quest was still ongoing and he hadn’t yet achieved his goal. Without him to remind them of the focus, would they pursue it, or would they return to more mundane tasks?

  Dariak tried to imagine what death was like. A morbid thought, to be sure, but necessary. Would he drift up to the skies like some people believed, so he could oversee how things progressed with the land, at least for a little while? Or would he just be snuffed out like a flame with no connection at all? Perhaps it was why the ancients believed in gods, for it gave them a sense of higher purpose to their struggles and it gave them a place to go to when they died.

  He didn’t know what he believed, but as a mage, it seemed likely to him that the energies that made up his life would dissipate back into the world, where other mages would learn to draw on them and craft them into new spells. Perhaps that was where inspiration came from: a set of flowing energies passing to a new person and opening a new path of ideas to pursue. Or that energy floating around gave the entire populace a stronger base knowledge to build from that allowed them to aspire to greater heights. He pictured it like a group of men trying to construct a mountain. In their lifetime, one group wouldn’t be able to make it very high, but after generations of adding to the foundation, it could tower over the land.

  He knelt down and took Randler’s hand, slowly stroking the soft skin. He delighted in the sensation of the warmth mingled with the tiny hairs that started from the wrist and wound their way up his arm. Dariak smiled, cherishing the stolen sensation while Randler slept.

  After a time, the bard’s tender eyes opened and he examined the sadness on his lover’s face. “Bad news?”

  Dariak stifled an answer, holding that hand whose caresses had possessed a magic of their own. He let the memory fill him and drag him forward. Randler did not shy away, tossing the book to the floor and welcoming Dariak’s advances. They moved slowly, experiencing each other as if for the first time, touching here, kissing there. Then they drew upon their knowledge of each other and dissolved into ecstasy.

  Exhausted and content, Randler stared at the sharp lines in Dariak’s face. His jaw was taut and his throat pulsed as if he had something he wanted to say but didn’t know how. Randler understood the feeling, for the knot in his throat was the same. He wondered in some way if he had misjudged Dariak’s dedication to their relationship, but that nagging inner voice reminded him that this calm would only be temporary.

  “Your father’s library should be immortalized,” Randler said softly, unable to speak directly of what was on his mind.

  “For now, it will have to remain here, until the mages in general can forgive the flaws of my father and honor him again. If they ever can.”

  “Some things take time,” Randler said. “I believe that when some more time has passed, they will again revere him.”

  “You really think it’s possible for people to forget that Delminor was the mage who failed the last war? They’ll forget that it was his magic that doomed the fighting to continue and allowed our king to perish?”

  Randler wasn’t sure how to take the questions, for Dariak’s tone was off. “I do believe that, yes. Mages will continue to advance. Many will wonder where past inspiration has come from and when they check the histories, they will find your father’s name and they will honor him.”

  Dariak nodded absently. “Everyone has his day, I suppose.”

  “As you will have yours,” Randler said. “Dariak, I know you well enough. What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  Randler took Dariak’s face in his hand and forced him to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

  Defeated, Dariak exhaled and explained softly. “The jades are manifestations of the elements, which we know. They link powerfully with the world around us and normal everyday things connect to the jades. Many years ago, the jades were kept away from each other, each in an area that best suited the shard. The lands all thrived and people were happy with the day-to-day routines. Sure, there were fights and disagreements—people are people—but there weren’t constant wars or the ever-growing desert or the feral beasts, and so on.”

  Randler nodded. “The histories all say the same thing, neglecting the jades. Then some mages came to power in what’s now known as Kallisor and they rampaged until the people rose up and ousted them. It was where the original King Kallisor grew up and he despised magic ever since.”

  “Those mages had found the first pieces of jade and channeled their energies, but they couldn’t control them at the time. It’s like what happened at the Prisoner’s Tower in Pindington with the lightning jade. The mages were inexperienced with the element and dealing directly with the jades, and it destroyed the whole place.”

  “And would have destroyed us, too,” Randler recalled with a shudder. “If not for your quick thinking.”

  Dariak’s lips twitched upward with the compliment, though his mood was too somber. “My father discussed
the findings of other mages, using the jades, combining their powers, and so on. Then he sought the jades out and gathered them all together so he could explore their effects himself. At first, he didn’t make any groundbreaking discoveries, until he had four pieces.”

  “What was so special about the four?”

  “The elements themselves didn’t matter, he later found, but the more jades he brought together for a single task, the harder it was to contain them. He described it as dropping rocks into a well, but each time you drop a stone, all the stones double in size. Put the first stone in, it’s the size of one stone. Add a second one, and it’s like you have four instead. Add a third, and you’ve got the equivalence of ten rocks, and so on.”

  “And four stones is like tossing twenty-two into the well,” Randler said, “and by then the stones are getting too big to throw in and the well is pretty full.”

  “Yes, and at some point, the well itself breaks because it can’t hold them all.”

  Randler swallowed deeply. “So when Frast channeled all the jades through himself with the one intent of uniting the jades, that’s why he exploded into the fiery falcon.”

  “Essentially.”

  “So what does that mean? Can the jades not be brought together?”

  Dariak wrung his hands together, and the motion made Randler nervous. “My father had some postulations. He believed the human spirit could be strong enough to channel all the jades properly and unite them, but we’ve both seen that he is wrong there. He died, and so did Frast. He also wondered at your thought, whether the jades were not meant to be combined into one, however he had found numerous texts, though ancient, that said the shards all originated from the one Red Jade.”

  “There aren’t many stories about the Red Jade directly,” Randler commented.

  “There is a reason for it.” Dariak shrugged. “Do you ever read tons of stories about the sky? Or trees? Air? No, because they’re just there, part of the world. And the Red Jade was once just something that existed. It was hinted that it was a conduit to the old gods or a relic of some powerful magician who had gathered all of magic into one place for all the world to enjoy—or, in another version, that same wizard had locked the magic away so others couldn’t abuse it.”

  “What did Delminor think the truth was?”

  “He wasn’t sure, and he said it didn’t matter. He only gleaned the fact that the Red Jade did exist and that it was the key to restoring balance to the land.”

  “But wait,” Randler said, scratching his head. “I read about the shards, how the other lines of royalty all ended and a shard came into being. But if the Red Jade was first and then was broken down, how is that possible?”

  “The Red Jade was first. It was split and shared among the royal families of the time, before these lands took on their current names. My father wasn’t certain, but he postulated that the jades were passed down to the first male heir. But it wasn’t like a family goblet kept in a chest. It was as if the jade itself had become part of each king, and passed internally to his heir. Those deaths you read about were the ends of the other royal lines, for the seed of the true heir carrying the jade had not been passed on. So upon his death, each shard manifested itself.”

  Randler added, “And each royal family would have lived in a different part of the land, keeping their powers from each other and balancing them across the kingdoms.”

  “There’s some speculation here, but yes. While the jades were living within the kings, there was relative peace and magic was weaker. As they died and the shards came to physical being, the imbalances started.”

  “And your father realized the powers were not meant to exist as separate shards. So he started bringing them together.”

  Dariak nodded. “Recreating the Red Jade would either allow magic to flourish or it would reduce its effects to where they were before. He would restore the balance of magic and therein stop the wars. Even if that meant sealing magic away from the world, he was willing to do it. The problem, though…”

  “All those oversized rocks in the well,” Randler finished.

  “Yes. With eleven jades, imagine the amount of force needed to keep them together. He tried many different ways to achieve it, but the most he could ever contain on his own was eight.”

  “That’s impressive in itself!”

  “True.” Dariak smiled slightly. “He even employed other mages to help with the barriers needed to channel the energies into one location, but despite with the extra support, he never surpassed eight. He believed the complexities of the magic needed the complexities of the mind to maintain them.”

  “I see,” Randler said softly. “So he included himself in the mix to bring them together.”

  “And it burned him out. As it burned Frast. As it will burn me.”

  Randler held Dariak’s hand tightly. “It doesn’t have to, Dariak. We can find another way.”

  “There isn’t one, and my father even said so. Without restoring the Red Jade, magic would always be imbalanced and the world would forever experience turmoil. I don’t have a choice, Randler. I have to unite them and recreate the Red Jade. It was always my goal before, but I hadn’t thought it would be so impossible. Or so final. Frast may not have realized what he was channeling. My father had suspected but couldn’t have been prepared either. I’m more experienced with the jades. I’ve been connected to them my whole life through the blood bond. I can succeed where the others could not.”

  “Yet you expect it to kill you,” Randler said.

  “My father believed that to hand yourself over to the jades was to release yourself from this existence and to take on a new sense of being within the Red Jade, ever policing the energies, ever guiding and protecting the balance.”

  “Thus the power of the mind,” Randler concluded. “You would have to rule it with some creativity, some logic, and with a keen sense of negotiation between the forces. Dariak, it would be worse than conducting an orchestra with a thousand different instruments simultaneously playing all different songs and trying to have it sound pleasant to a single audience.”

  “That about sums it up,” Dariak agreed. “And because I know that going in, I know I can do this.”

  “It’s crazy, Dariak, don’t you see? There must be something else.”

  “Just one thing: I give up this quest. We find resting places for all the jades and hope they remember their old tasks of protecting the land.”

  Randler painted a smile on his face. “Then we could build a house somewhere, have a little garden out back. We’ll have friends over for some wild laughs and bawdy songs.”

  “We’ll cook grand feasts,” Dariak added, “and seasonally rearrange all the furniture for fun. You’ll bring in money from your songs and your desserts. I’ll be the hunky man around the house, fixing things, tinkering with small projects, and making toys.”

  Randler burst out laughing. “Making toys? And why do you get to stay at home while I’m making all the money?”

  “I’ll need time to learn some skills other than magic,” he said honestly.

  “Well,” Randler drawled, “I can think of one skill you’ve mastered and could rake in tons of gold with, but I would be too jealous to allow you to do it.”

  It was Dariak’s turn to laugh. “Making toys it is, then.”

  The mirth dissipated quickly and Randler pulled Dariak closer to him. “I don’t want to lose you, even if it means saving the land. Hopefully, we can find another way.”

  “Let’s not dwell on it for now. We have all the information we came for, so we should head back to the others. I’d rather like to get out of here.” A smirk then grew on his face. “But before we go, what do you say we make sure you’re right about those skills I’ve mastered?”

  “Again? So soon?” Randler teased. “You’d better impress me.”

  “Oh,” Dariak crooned. “I intend to.”

  Chapter 30

  Standing Before the Seven

  Urrith sat silently in t
he room provided for him by the mages. It was more comfortable than the previous stony room they had given him, but it was still just as much a prison to him as before. He wanted to leave the Mage Underground more than anything, but the Seven had to convene and decide his fate; he was merely waiting for them to gather and deliberate.

  “Bide your time,” Frethia had cautioned him after his ordeal in the outer world. “All things have a time and a reason.”

  The upset youth hadn’t been able to bite his tongue. “And my purpose as bait has been useful to you, but what has it done for me?”

  The old woman had narrowed her eyes coldly and walked silently away.

  Several days had passed since then, though the lad refused to even count them anymore. He woke up, ate food, and found little things to keep himself busy, like cutting twigs into uniform sizes for one mage or labeling herbs for another. At first, Urrith had tried avoiding all the mages and their hobbies, though boredom was worse than interacting with them, and exercising for long felt terribly out of place here.

  Janning appeared while Urrith was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, contemplating his future. The older mage said nothing other than, “It’s time.” Urrith didn’t bother arguing or asking for any other information. Most of his dealings with the mages so far had been locked in secrecy or lies anyway.

  When he had met the first few members of the Seven, they had convened in a dank, stone room with oddly shaped thrones. This time, Urrith’s jaw dropped at the elegance of the entire setting.

  A long gathering hall had been blockaded around three edges and massive wooden tables had been brought in, presumably by earth mages who had drawn the trees in through the rocky ceiling and then molded them into their desired form. It still seemed a waste of energy to Urrith, but he reminded himself of Janning’s comparison to sparring and he sighed, taking in the rest of the setting.

  The walls were draped with a series of tapestries, though as he looked more closely, Urrith noticed that they were the work of the nature mages, who had drawn vines and flowers and herbs together into intricate patterns that not only visually flattered the space, but added a deliciously welcome fragrance to the room. Along the wall, stone sconces stood out with variously hued flames dancing within.