Sky Jewel Legacy- Heritage

by Gregory Heal

  Aroused out of her thoughts, Jen lifted her eyes from the lush greenery and sparkling river below to see the magnificent home of the Sorcery Guild.

  Overlooking a steep bluff above Lac Cravath, Watercress Castle took up fifty thousand square feet of fertile Azumarian soil. Its design was decidedly unique, taking inspiration from many different cultures as each new headmaster added on to its pre-existing structure as a way to cement their legacy. Jen was impressed by the castle’s immense exterior, which had clearly been influenced by architecture from the Gothic steeples of Medieval England and the noble arches of Ancient Rome to the colorful papyriform columns of Ancient Egypt and the romantic domed roofs of Renaissance Italy. The blending of those cultures worked in marvelous harmony, creating an everlasting hallmark from great civilizations.

  Seeing movement along the eastern edge of the castle, Jen spotted two men on winged horses—Pegasuses? she thought in amazement—fly in their direction, one pegasus as white as freshly-fallen snow and the other black as night.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” Victor called over his shoulder. “These are the Shepherds of Watercress.”

  Skarmor slowed to a third of his usual speed as the sentinels flew closer. Even though Victor seemed like he was expecting them, Jen’s heart was still beating like a racehorse. She found herself holding her breath as the first one spoke, his voice ringing in the clear air.

  “State your business!”

  “We come to speak to the Elder Synod,” Victor said loudly.

  The inter-realm crest of the Sorcery Guild was emblazoned on their cuirasses, the breastplates worn by ancient Roman soldiers. It had four quadrants and each one contained a different design: a djinn’s lamp with smoke emanating from its spout, a phoenix with wings raised outward like it was about to take flight, five stars that made an X, and a lone flower, which looked to be an elegant rose. Their arms were covered in chain mail and they wore Grecian-inspired helmets that sparkled in the sunlight and had long, flowing mohawks that matched the colors of their pegasuses. On their feet were traditional medieval sandals called sabatons.

  Skarmor had completely stopped and hung in the air, beating his wings in strong strokes while Victor talked to the Shepherds.

  “Under whose authority?” the other Shepherd asked.

  “The Elder Synod,” Victor answered.

  The Shepherds were quiet for a moment and exchanged glances, until they finally turned their pegasuses around and called back, “Follow us.”

  Victor stroked his griffin’s feathers and relaxed a bit. “Come on, Skar.”

  Skarmor obeyed and followed the two Shepherds toward Watercress Castle.

  Their path of descent took them around a tall, pointed battlement on the castle’s east wing, giving Jen a clear view of people walking along open corridors and on grass-covered courtyards below. The Shepherds directed them toward one of the inner courtyards. They peeled off and went back to their job of being on lookout for any unwanted—and potentially hostile—guests. All the while, Victor’s words rung in her ear: I’m convinced that more Dark Watchers have infiltrated the Guild than ever before.

  In total, the flight to Watercress took half an hour, and the sun was almost straight overhead as Skarmor gracefully landed in the central courtyard. Jen looked around the finely manicured area and noticed beautiful, blooming fruit trees. She breathed in and could smell the succulent aromas of honeycrisp apples, Asian pears, Georgia peaches, mandarin oranges, Indian gooseberries, and more, which dotted the courtyard’s perimeter.

  Victor inhaled long and deep. “I never thought I’d set foot here again,” he said as he looked around.

  A small coed crowd of tenderfeet were gathering around the southwest edge as children and teenagers alike began chattering and whispering and pointing at the unexpected visitors. An older sorceress who happened to walk by tried to break up the flock, but more were stopping to see what was causing the commotion than leaving, so she inevitably gave up and silently stared alongside them.

  All this attention was making Skarmor jittery. Jen could feel his sinewy muscles tighten beneath his furry hide and his breathing become more shallow. Victor put both of his hands on the griffin’s neck, calming him down. “Settle, boy. Everything’s all right,” Victor reassured.

  Skarmor clicked his tongue and ruffled his feathers, reluctantly believing his friend. He dropped his massive lion legs to the ground and Victor slid off, followed by Jen. The group that had formed became a gathering, and soon that gathering became a dense crowd—not only of tenderfeet, but also paladins and mystras alike.

  Victor and Jen stayed in the center of the courtyard until a sorceress stepped out onto the lawn and walked toward them. Her gait was feminine and authoritative as she made her way toward the center of the neatly manicured lawn. Her black hair was streaked with silver and pulled back into a high bun. Her cloak had a heavy hood, which hung in folds behind her neck, almost reaching her hands, which were clasped behind her back.

  Jen picked up on Victor’s body language, which had grown tense. A light wind moved leaves on the trees, giving off a slight rustling sound that reminded Jen of playing outside as a kid with her parents and brother.

  “Simone,” Victor said, giving a soft smile.

  “That’s Mystra Chen,” she corrected, her tone as stiff as her demeanor. “The Elders are expecting you.” She then turned her attention to Jen, her voice and expression lightening. “You must be the one we’ve been expecting.”

  Before Jen could respond, Victor said, “Yes. This is Jennifer—a true prodigy.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Mystra Chen rebutted. Looking around the courtyard, she said, “Well, come along now. Before every other sorcerer and sorceress comes out to stop and stare.”

  “After you,” Victor said. Turning around, he patted Skarmor and told him to wait for them in the courtyard. The griffin ruffled his feathers in bemusement, but reluctantly obeyed and fully sat on the warm grass. He watched as both Victor and Jen followed Mystra Chen, disappearing under a large archway that led farther into Watercress Castle.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jen was acutely aware of the many sets of eyes watching her as she walked down the center of the hallway. Diverting her gaze, she looked to the walls and ceiling.

  It’s just as beautiful on the inside! she thought.

  The crowd of students and teachers stopped following her and just stared into the corridor, waiting to see what Jen would do next—like bystanders at a zoo looking into an animal enclosure.

  Jen was so caught up in marveling at all of the wonderful tapestries, painted frames, and eloquent furnishings that she almost lost track of Victor and Chen. Polished marble busts of men and women lined the hallway that they turned down, clearly sculpted by a master; as impressive as this was, it was also a bit unsettling because the busts looked to Jen as if they were alive, silently blinking as they stared straight ahead. One of them had long, curly hair and somehow reminded Jen of herself.

  Victor spoke, to cut through the uncomfortable silence as they walked. “These are the founding members of the Sorcery Guild”—he pointed to the six busts on his left, going down the line—“Elwin Castleberry, Merek Scymarth, Meredith Dwin, Elvin Goldammer, and Genevieve Lancaster.”

  Jen’s eyes widened as she recognized her ancestor’s name—but that was all she showed of her surprise; she didn’t want to tip off any potential Dark Watcher agent as to who she really was.

  “And over here”—he gestured to another five busts to their right—“are the current council members of the Elder Synod. The busts are sculpted to replicate the likeness of each Elder. As they age, so does their bust. Finally, when they pass onto a higher plane of existence, the bust reverts back to how they looked during their prime.”

  Jen just nodded as she passed the busts, doing her best to soak up all this information. Victor put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze this time, telling her that everything would be all right.


  Chen didn’t say anything or turn around; she just continued to lead them to the Elder Synod’s chamber door. It was enormous and gouged out of centuries-old wood. The ceiling soared above them, and the top of the doors matched that height, perhaps thirty-five feet. Jen surmised that ten people abreast could easily walk through the doorway and wondered why it needed to be that tall and wide in the first place. Then again, this was a castle . . .

  As if the door noticed the three approaching, it silently swung inward on strong, gold-plated hinges to show a great chamber with five vacant chairs, each with matching golden cushions. The giant door closed as quietly and quickly as it had opened, leaving the group alone in the immense chamber.

  Walking in, Jen felt the true immensity of the room. Large marble pillars graced the left and right sides of the chairs, which were situated in a hemisphere; the floor of the council chamber was also smooth marble, cut from the same stone as the pillars, and looked to be recently waxed; a deep red rug with golden fringes began under the entrance doors and rolled all the way up to stairs that led to the dais of chairs; a breathtaking chandelier hung high in the center of the chamber, glistening from the sun’s rays, which were streaming through the glass dome at the peak of the ceiling; a large mural the size of a school bus towered behind the line of regal chairs, depicting the founding of Watercress Castle.

  Jen looked around the cavernous chamber, searching for the five Elders. She had been expecting to see them, all cloaked and distinguished, sitting in each of the five comfortable chairs, but instead she only saw an empty room.

  Victor and Chen seemed to think this was normal, for they continued to walk toward the stairs. There was an intricately sculpted font at its base—one that would be seen in a church, used for baptisms—with five crystal bottles, each with a different color, adorning its rim.

  Jen tapped Victor’s shoulder. “Vic . . . there’s no one here.”

  Without breaking his straight expression, he simply said, “We must request a formal audience with them.”

  Before Jen could wonder how, Chen walked to the water-filled font. She took each crystal bottle and poured a drop of its contents into the water, which began to glow the colors of the rainbow. As the water continued to shimmer, Chen stepped back in line with Victor and waited.

  Jen looked forward just as a bright light shone from the far left chair. Even though it looked bright, it didn’t hurt Jen’s eyes to stare directly at it. The light’s color turned from white to blue while forming the outline of a person. As the light faded, she gazed in astonishment at a middle-aged woman sitting on one of the five chairs like she had been there all along.

  A few seconds later there was a second shaft of white light, this time coming from the opposite side of the semicircle of thrones. This light shaft began red before it coalesced into a gentleman slightly older than the woman. He silently nodded at Victor and Chen just as another light appeared, followed by two others that filled the remaining empty chairs. Each light changed from white to the color in one of the crystal bottles before turning into the remaining members of the Elder Synod. In total, there were three men and two women—and Jen recognized all of their faces from the life-like busts Victor showed her back out in the hallway.

  For the first time since seeing Beyoncé in concert, Jen was starstruck. She was standing in front of the oldest and quite possibly most powerful sorcerers alive. Without warning, her legs nearly buckled, but she remained upright. Just in case she needed to sit, Jen glanced around for chairs on her level, but couldn’t find any.

  What I wouldn’t give to have Skarmor by my side, she thought, imagining herself collapsing onto his soft fur instead of the hard marble floor.

  Jen looked down the row of Elders and stopped when she locked gazes with the sorcerer sitting in the middle chair. He wore a deep purple, velvet robe that cascaded over his shoulders and draped to the floor in heavy waves. Flecks of silver dotted his robes like stars twinkling in a clear night sky. Even though he was sitting, Jen could tell this sorcerer was tall and muscular, though his age bordered seventy years. His strong jaw shaped his silver beard quite nicely on his face, and his eyes never parted from hers, like he was discovering who she really was just by looking into her eyes. He was the first to speak.

  “Simone . . . Victor,” he said in a dignified deep voice.

  Both Chen and Victor bowed their heads and said in unison: “Grand Mystra Cindergray.”

  Cindergray continued, “We debated on whether or not we should convene under such vague intentions as testing an unknown potential tenderfoot, but this recommendation—coming from a trusted and esteemed sorceress like Simone—could not be denied.”

  Victor nodded his approval at Chen, who quickly responded, “I can assure you, sir, that this meeting is paramount.”

  “Victor . . . I never imagined seeing you back on the Guild’s grounds,” Cindergray said, “but it’s good to see that you’re well.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Victor bowed again. “Even though I have no right to be here in front of you, I still feel that it is my duty to help strengthen our ranks by bringing in candidates if I come across any.”

  Still two full steps behind Victor, Jen grimaced as she felt her heart pull. She didn’t like how gracious Victor was to the very sorcerers who had vilified him ten years ago for going after Malcolm and ultimately saving Gavin. Even if they were the sagacious Elder Synod, she expected more of a fair trial.

  Victor stepped to the side and presented Jen, who froze in surprise. Her mouth went cotton-dry and she found it hard to talk—even breathe—but then she looked at Victor and his presence calmed her enough to move her feet and step forward.

  “Good tidings, my dear,” Cindergray said, though his face was still grave. “Welcome to Watercress. I am Aldred Cindergray, the Grand Mystra of the Sorcery Guild.”

  Before Jen could say her name, the Elder on the far left began talking. “I am Merek Stonebridge, Mystra Terramancer. Welcome.” Stonebridge looked to be in his mid-forties, with no hair on his perfectly spherical head aside from salt-and-pepper eyebrows that curled up near the ends, making them look like bat wings. He wore an old gray cloak that was clasped around his neck with a golden chain. He had a stolid demeanor, even in his introduction.

  “I am Ellwyn Skycap—but you can call me Elle. Mystra Animancer.” The woman sitting to the right of Stonebridge winked down at Jen. She wore a shiny mink-fur coat and knee-high leather boots. She looked to be around fifty years old, with wisps of gray in her deep brown, wavy hair. Skycap reminded Jen of a movie star from the 1940s.

  Next in line was Cindergray, who had started the introductions, so he let the fellow on his right speak. “Étoilier. Jayden Étoilier. Mystra of the Astromancy Plane. Enchanté.” The way Étoilier introduced himself made Jen immediately think of the fictitious debonair spy, James Bond. He said his name like Shay-duh A-twol-ee-ay, with the help of his slight French accent. His square jaw ended in a cleft chin. Jen assumed he once had dirty-blond hair, but now it was lighter as white hair started to emerge with age.

  And finally, the last Mystra said, “Good afternoon, young lady. I’m Ingrede Childahorn. Mystra Telemancer.” Her spectacles were rose-gold and had round, thick lenses that made her eyes look comically large, like she was looking at you through magnifying glasses. Her red bangs just touched her thinly trimmed eyebrows, making her look younger than the rest of the Elders.

  “And I’m the chronomancer of this council,” Cindergray said.

  Once it was clear they had finished their introductions, Jen said in a shy voice, “I’m Jennifer, but you can call me Jen if you’d like. Very nice to meet you all.”

  “Likewise, my dear,” said Cindergray. “And where are you from?”

  “Uh . . . New York, sir.” She still had her hands clasped in front of her, like she was wringing out a wet towel.

  “Ah, the Big Apple. It’s been a while since I visited that metropolis,” the Grand Mystra mused, then warmly asked, “How was your tr
ip to Watercress?”

  Swallowing a few times and hoping that she could find her voice, she looked up and said, “Good, sir.”

  “Good?” Cindergray laughed. “Don’t be shy, my dear. We were all in your position at one point.” He motioned to his left and right, sweeping over all of the Elders.

  Jen took a deep breath and said, “It was . . . extraordinary, sir. I rode a griffin here, which sure beats flying in a plane. And this castle is breathtaking.” As she began letting down her guard, she dropped her hands to her sides, feeling a bit more comfortable.

  “It is truly a marvel, yes. How about I give you a tour after our discussion?” Cindergray proposed with a twinkle in his eye.

  “If you could spare the time, sir.” Smiling, Jen had enough presence of mind to slightly bow in gratitude.

  “It will be my most humble of pleasures.” Cindergray’s smile grew. “You’ll get to see all of the wonderful decorations for the upcoming Sesquimillennial Jubilee.”

  Jen’s smile broadened with his. “A jubilee?”

  The Grand Mystra chuckled. “Yes, indeed. It’s to celebrate the fifteen hundredth anniversary of the Great Battle, when darkness was vanquished from the known realms.”

  Wow! Fifteen hundred years? Jen tried to hold in her surprise. “Victor told me about that on the way here. I’m even more excited and honored to be here for it.”

  Cindergray nodded and looked at Victor. “If her nexus’s power is half as impressive as the way she presents herself, she should make a wonderful tenderfoot.”

  “I’m glad you think so, sir,” he said to Cindergray, then took in the rest of the Elders. “I can guarantee that her nexus is very strong.”

  “Let’s find out,” Cindergray replied, “shall we?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  In the hours that had passed since his confrontation with Lord Draconex, Malcolm stayed locked in his room, embarrassed and obsessed. Embarrassed to show his face again and obsessed to find Jen’s whereabouts. Still feeling the aftereffects of his master’s stifling chokehold, Malcolm winced as he stretched his neck to the left and right.