The Dragons of Dorcastle

by Jack Campbell

  Soon enough they were passing the outer defenses of the city, sentries standing on ballista towers gazing down at the Mechanic train. They arrived surprisingly quickly at the Mechanics’ station in Dorcastle, and the train groaned to a stop, this time with only a faint echo of the screaming of metal on metal.

  None of the commons went in the direction of the locomotive, instead heading along a plainly marked route into the city. Alain stayed with them, walking steadily away from the Mechanic train. The thread stayed with him, offering an illicit sense of comfort as it pointed back toward the locomotive. The elders at Ringhmon had not sensed the thread, but that was no guarantee the elders here would not. If they did, he had a series of outwardly accurate but misleading answers for them. Not every lesson an acolyte learned was one intended by the elders.

  As the crowd broke apart and dwindled, Alain found an isolated spot and pulled on his Mage robes, not trying to suppress the feeling of calm brought by the familiarity of the robes. It had been surprisingly hard to pretend to be a common. After so much training in hiding his feelings, the need to avoid showing that he was avoiding showing emotions had been amazingly tiring. He spotted another Mage, got directions to the Guild Hall and before the sun had sunk much past noon had reached the place that would hopefully prove a more welcoming sanctuary than the Mage Guild Hall in Ringhmon had been.

  The acolyte at the entrance bowed Alain inside. “This one will perform any tasks needed by the Mage.”

  Alain paused to look at the acolyte, memories of his own time as an acolyte filling him. How long did it take for them to make you forget what a friend was? Did you ever try to help another acolyte? Do you find comfort only in the wisdom of the Guild, because there is none in the presence of the shadows and illusion which surrounds you? These are not the questions your elders will ever pose, but now they cannot be banished from my mind.

  By the time Alain had dumped his now-empty bag in one of the rooms set aside for Mages traveling through the city, he had already received a message to report to the elders of this Hall. Ushered into a small office, Alain could not help feeling relieved that this time he was not being subjected to an Inquiry right off.

  The old Mage seated behind her desk waved Alain to a seat with unusual informality. “Greetings, Mage Alain.–Your age has been a source of astonishment to our acolytes. They have been forced to work harder to conceal their emotions.” She showed open amusement for a moment, a Mage’s smile which barely moved the mouth and then vanished, but still it startled Alain. “Mage Alain, have you heard of the troubles our Guild faces in this city?”

  “I have heard of dragons,” Alain admitted.

  “Yes! Dragons! Behaving as they should not. As they cannot. But if all the world is false, why should not our understanding of our spells prove false on occasion as well?” The old Mage sighed, once again showing emotion. “You will find few Mages here. Except for a few kept on hand in case they are needed to defend the Hall, the rest are scouring likely dragon lairs in the area. Do you know of the means by which Mages can search? Good, good. One so young, I can take nothing for granted. You understand. But so far, all our efforts have been in vain.” She sighed again. “It is frustrating.”

  Alain tried not to stare at the old Mage. To speak of feelings like frustration? This elder’s failings must be tolerated because of her experience and past contributions to the Guild. “My understanding is that the search methods should easily find a spell creature as large as a dragon, let alone more than one.”

  “Should, yes,” the elder agreed. “Yet we find nothing. No Mage sensed the creation of the dragons, even though such spells should have been apparent to our senses. There is something else at work. We have not discovered what it is, but suspicions are that Dark Mages have foolishly tampered with the wisdom that guides the nature of dragon spells.”

  “I did not know that was possible,” Alain said.

  “It is not possible. The illusion is perceived to be the same by all, and all must follow the same patterns in working their spells or the spells fail. A dragon can only be a dragon. I have reminded the other elders of this, but still they seek the kind of dragon that cannot be created by any spell. Little wonder they fail,” she grumbled. The old Mage stood and walked with difficulty to a shelf. “If you wish to study, Mage Alain, I have some texts.”

  “I have already studied those,” Alain said.

  “Have you? Well, one so young.” She stood irresolute for a moment, then came back to her chair and sat down. “There is nothing in those texts to help with this. I know that. Now, as to you.”

  It had not occurred to him that he might have immediate obligations to his Guild which would prevent him from meeting Mari tomorrow evening. But Mari would surely understand if that happened. “I will join whichever search party you think I can best serve.”

  The old Mage blinked, then actually smiled reassuringly for an instant. “No. Dragons are a threat for the most experienced to face. As for other service, I cannot offer you chance of employment soon, because all in and around the city blame our Guild for this plague of dragons and are refusing us contracts until we halt the predations of the spell creatures.”

  “Lady Mage,” Alain said in his most formal voice, “honored elder, allow me to serve with the other qualified Mages.”

  “No, Mage Alain.”

  “I do not need protecting. I can protect the interests of the Guild.”

  “Yes, yes.” The old Mage tapped her desk with the fingers of one hand. “I have seen the report of your attempt to defend the caravan. You did not know it had been sent to us? But of course the Guild Hall in Ringhmon wanted us to know what you have done. It is well you have not been discouraged by that failure, but still you must redouble your efforts to master wisdom and our arts.” She gave him a searching look. “And this female Mechanic who stalked you in that city. Strange business. Be satisfied that you are away from that one. Whatever hoax the deceitful little minx was planning, you are safely clear of it and the other temptations Ringhmon offers.”

  So the Guild Hall in Ringhmon had used a message Mage to send a report on Alain to the hall in Dorcastle even before Alain arrived. He ought to feel flattered that they had gone to that much effort, except that even this old Mage with her very un-Magelike sympathy had obviously read things in it which cast Alain as not ready for full Mage duties. She also clearly shared the opinion of the elders in Ringhmon as to the threat to him posed by a female Mechanic. “Elder, I am capable of assisting the Guild in this matter.”

  She shook her head. “Mage Alain, rest, study and be ready if this Hall should be attacked by these dragons. Then we shall need everyone who can work spells.”

  “Will you inform the other elders that I am ready to assist them?”

  This time the old Mage nodded. “Very well, Mage Alain. Your dedication to the interests of the Guild will be noted.”

  He felt like a fraud for a moment, a vision of the “deceitful little minx” Mari filling his memory, but the Guild had taught him to hide even the worst emotions, and the elder did not seem to be paying too much attention to his reactions anyway.

  Alain started to rise, then sat back down. This elder was not like others he had encountered. Perhaps she would answer queries which would be dismissed by other elders. “This one has questions.”

  A flash of pleasure showed on the elder’s face. Alain imagined that she was rarely called on to teach anymore. More likely, she was the one greeting him only because the other elders were off searching for the dragons. “This one listens.”

  “Elder, do you have any knowledge of foresight?”

  “Foresight?” The old Mage perked up even more. “Why do you ask? Have you that gift as well?”

  “Only recently, honored elder. It gave me a vision not so long ago, something I cannot understand.”

  “Ah.” The old Mage nodded. “A vision. And you have asked other elders about foresight and they have told you that foreseeing was not a fit art for a Mage

, did they not?”

  “They did. I was told it would imperil my pursuit of wisdom and I should not speak of what I had seen.”

  “Pah! I have pursued my knowledge of foresight, young Mage. Despite the words of others. I am not as strong as I once was, but I still have wisdom and my spells still work.” She gave Alain a questioning look. “Did you see yourself in this vision? No? That is important. When you see yourself, alone or with shadows, that means you are seeing what may be, a chance of what might come to pass if you do everything that leads you to that future. In such a case, you may not even actually survive to fulfill the vision if you should make the wrong choices. But other elders said you should not even speak of what you saw? What did you see in this vision?”

  Alain took a moment to call up the memory, focusing on the details. “A second sun in the sky, against which a violent storm raged, trying to extinguish the sun.”

  The elder looked at him for a moment before saying anything else. “A second sun? And a violent storm? Did this vision carry any sense of urgency, young Mage?”

  He barely managed to hide his surprise at the question. “Yes. The storm moved swiftly. I felt a need to act, though I do not know what I was supposed to do.”

  The elder nodded, her expression shadowed. “And this vision was alone? Nothing was near it?” she asked as if certain he would agree.

  But Alain shook his head. “A shadow was near it. It appeared over her.”

  This time the elder took a longer while to respond. “A shadow. The vision was close to this shadow?”

  He hesitated, remembering. “Yes. Just above her. It was focused upon the shadow. I have no doubt of that.”

  “Her.” The old Mage chewed her lip, looking down, her feelings impossible to spot. “The vision was focused upon her? A female shadow? You are certain?”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  The elder took so long to speak again that Alain wondered if she would say anything else, but finally she surprised him with another question. “Young Mage, have you heard of a prophecy the shadows speak of? About one they call the daughter?”

  “No,” Alain said.

  “The prophecy was made long ago, and somehow the shadows learned of it.” The elder sat back, her eyes distant as if gazing into the past. “They speak of a daughter of the shadow once known as Jules of Julesport. They believe that this daughter will overthrow the Mage Guild and the Mechanics Guild. They believe in that prophecy, but they do not know all of it.”

  Another pause, then the elder focused her gaze on Alain. “Others will not tell you this, but the prophecy was real. It said that this woman would unite Mages, Mechanics, and those known as commons into a single force that would change the world. And so the Mage Guild has always considered the prophecy to be a fantasy. How could anyone do such a thing? Mages working with Mechanics? It could never be. Commons joining their efforts? Nonsense. No one could do such a thing.”

  Alain nodded as if in agreement, but he was thinking of himself and Mari escaping from the dungeon in Ringhmon, and of the way Mari had gotten commons to aid her in helping another on the cliff. “Do you believe my vision has some connection to that prophecy?” Alain asked, making his strongest effort to hide any feeling from the words.

  The elder leaned forward, tapping one finger on the desk to emphasize her words. “Other Mages have seen visions, young Mage. More and more in recent years. Visions of armies battling, and mobs of shadows tearing down all that is and will be, and even visions of Mage Guild Halls and the halls of the Mechanics being overrun and destroyed. And with each year the sense of urgency in these visions has grown, young Mage. The sense that this storm comes closer, that it sweeps toward us more swiftly than any can see, that it will wrap us in its chaos and destroy everything, leaving only ruin in its wake.”

  She gazed intently at Alain. “Against this storm many have seen a sun, a promise of a new day, a promise of what may defeat that storm, but always that vision floated without reference to anyone or anything. But you, young Mage, you say you have seen that vision of a sun and a storm focused on a shadow. You have seen the battling images of a new tomorrow and a tomorrow filled with death all centered on one shadow. It must be her, the one the old prophecy spoke of. The one who can bring a new day to this world. And these visions make it clear that if she fails, if this shadow ceases, then the storm racing toward us will triumph.”

  Alain wondered how he managed to keep his expression emotionless. “How can a shadow be so important?”

  “A reasonable question, given the training that acolytes receive. I will explain,” the Elder said, frustration once more apparent. “Normally foresight tells a Mage what will or might happen to someone. Some specific event. Some specific danger. Yes? They did not tell you that, either, did they? But it is so. You see an image of a Mage or a shadow somewhere, doing something, and so you see what will someday happen to that shadow. Understanding what you see is far more difficult than the seeing, young Mage, for the vision cannot tell you why anything came to pass or what led to it. All you see is an event, with no way of seeing the occurrences or decisions which created it. But in this case you did not see the shadow in the vision, but rather a vision focused on the shadow. What you saw in this vision, then, was not the shadow’s future, but the future that shadow will decide.”

  “You are certain?” Alain did not know how to take what the old Mage was telling him. “This shadow is that important?” he asked again.

  “Important? Yes. All are shadows, yet shadows can cast their shade widely on the illusion of the world, and Mages do not exist independent of that illusion. This shadow, the one you saw, is the only one who can stop the storm which threatens the entire illusion which we call this world.”

  “The Mage Guild—” Alain began, overwhelmed by what he was hearing.

  The elder stopped his words with a sharp gesture and an actual frown. “There are two sides to the visions and the prophecy, young Mage. This shadow can stop the storm, but she is also foretold to overthrow the Mage Guild. Many elders do not wish to acknowledge the visions which warn of the coming storm. They mistrust foresight, and they mistrust anything which might lessen their own power.” She looked toward the door, as if ensuring no one was close enough to hear, and lowered her voice. “For that illusion, young Mage—the power many elders wield—is of great value to them. I have heard them talking.–They say that if this one the commons call the daughter should appear, she must be destroyed. For the Guild must be preserved, even if such an attempt only leaves it exposed to the storm that will follow.”

  “Destroyed?” Alain said.

  The elder gave him a sharp look, causing Alain to wonder if that single word had betrayed his feelings. “They wish to protect what they have, young Mage. They will destroy anything that threatens their authority. You already know this.”

  “What should I do?” Alain asked.

  “Walk carefully, young Mage. Decide what is important to you.”

  “Nothing is real, nothing is important,” Alain recited the lesson automatically.

  “That is not so,” the elder whispered. “I sense you have already learned that. Do you wish to try to stop the storm—for nothing is certain and no outcome guaranteed—or do you wish above all to try to preserve the current form of the MageGuild?”

  “Elder, if what you say is accurate, then the current form of the Mage Guild is doomed.”

  “Exactly, young Mage.” The elder looked into his eyes. “The question is how it will fall. The storm threatens this world, and it threatens that shadow. I do not know what path that shadow must walk to become the sun that will light the new day and hold back the storm. But if I knew who that shadow was, I would do what I could to protect and aid her. The storm the Mage Guild, the Mechanics, shadows of every kind will aim at her. Only she can stop the storm. If her image vanishes from this world, the storm will triumph, perhaps within only a few more years, and then those who destroyed that shadow will themselves be consumed, along with all else. The daughter must live, or all else dies.”

  “I understand, honored Elder,” Alain said.

  “Do you? Then do not speak of this again. Any mention of that vision could bring the storm’s wrath upon that shadow, who must depend upon remaining hidden and unknown until she has the means to stand against the storm. Tell no one. We have not spoken of this. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, Elder.” Alain rose, bowing, emotions churning inside him. “This one has listened, honored elder. Your wisdom has given me much to think about.”

  She waved off his words. “We have talked only of small matters,” she said loudly enough for the words to carry into the hallway beyond. “But remember this, young Mage,” the elder added in lower tones. “Do not let others tell you that wisdom decrees a Mage must see the false world in only one way.”

  Alain had been about to leave, but he paused. “Honored elder, if all is false, as we are taught, how can wisdom exist as a single path? How can there be but one proper road for all of us?”

  The old Mage smiled once more for an instant. “You have gotten there, have you? Well done, young Mage. Many Mages never reach that place, to question the wisdom of that which is wisdom.”

  “But, what is the answer, honored elder?”

  “The answer? There is no answer. Only choices which can have many outcomes, some expected, and some unforeseen. Perhaps that is the only wisdom there really is, young Mage: that our choices matter. As your choices matter, perhaps more than those of anyone else at this time.”

  Alain bowed his way out and walked back toward the room he had been given, aware of little outside himself as the elder’s words kept running through his mind. One who would unite Mages and Mechanics. One who the commons would also follow.

  One who could stop the storm.

  He felt as if a cold wind were blowing hard upon his mind. What should he do? The elder said he must protect Mari, but how best to protect her when his presence might endanger her? She had also said that Mari’s best protection was anonymity, to be but one more shadow among the others, lest the storm know exactly where to bend its efforts.

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