The Tower of Sorcery

by James Galloway

  Darvon drew his sword. "Kneel!" he barked in that voice of command, and Allia found herself kneeling before him before she knew what she was doing. "By the power vested in my by Karas, god of Law, god of Duty, patron god of Sulasia, as is my right as the Lord General of the Holy Militant Order of the Knights of Karas, I decree that Allia of the Selani has proven her worth to Sulasia, to the Knights, and to Karas. I knight thee, Lady Allia, Baroness of the Desert of Swirling Sands, keeper of the codes of the Covenant, Knight of the Order, defender of the faith, and hammer of Karas." The sword touched her on each shoulder. "Rise, and know that you are One Under Karas."

  She stared at him in disbelief, rising to her feet. "That title is only in name, Allia, but you are one of us," he told her. "There will be no oaths of obediance or any demands on you. You are a Knight, but you are free to do as you will. Your official title is Knight Champion, a Knight who answers only to me. And I officially order you to do whatever you want to do."

  She stared at him for a moment longer, a stern look on her face. "No demands upon me? I will not be bound under Karas?"

  "No," he assured her. "I'm certain that Karas knows that you're already spoken for, Allia. You were given a title and an official place among us, but not any duties that we would have to perform."

  "Then why do it at all?"

  "Let's just say it's insurance that the Tower treats you with the respect you deserve," Darvon said seriously. "We don't take kindly to one of our own suffering from mistreatment."

  Allia looked directly at Tarrin, and then she nodded in understanding. "I will accept your title," she said calmly. "I would find great honor in being considered among the esteemed ranks of the Knights of Karas."

  "You are One Under Karas, sister Allia," Darvon told her bluntly. "Your trials are ours, and your happiness is ours. And it is we who are honored to have such an outstanding woman listed among our own unworthy names."

  "You have been practicing your flattery, Darvon," Allia said sweetly, which made Darvon blush slightly.

  "You're deserving of flattery, sister Allia," Darvon grinned. "Now, I'm sure that Tarrin dragged you from something important, so you should be on your way. I have a little visit to pay to the Council," he said grimly. "Faalken, Ulgen, make sure it's made official. Now, if you'll excuse me."

  They all bowed as the Lord General of the Knights departed, stomping towards the main Tower like a man about to do war.

  Faalken and Ulgen quietly took their leave to go do the Lord General's bidding, leaving Tarrin and Allia to walk back to the North Tower. "What was that about?" she asked him in Selani.

  "I told the Lord General why I was on strike," he replied, still trying to suppress the elation he was feeling. "He said that since they consider us Knights, he'd put a hand in on our behalf. If they don't give me what I deserve as an Initiate, the Knights will stop serving the Sorcerers until they do."

  Allia gave him a look, then she laughed. "That's very clever," she said. "Most Sorcerers won't walk the city streets without a Knight attending them. That effectively traps them in the Tower with us."

  "Yes, but I'm just touched that Darvon and the Knights would do this for me," he said with profound respect in his voice.

  "I see. And they Knighted us to give them an official standpoint?"

  Tarrin nodded.

  "You do know that we have succeeded beyond anything that Keritanima hoped," she said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "She wanted the Tower in an uproar. What more could we possibly do put the Tower on its ear and make it spin in circles?"

  Tarrin considered that. Pitting the Knights against the Sorcerers would only confound the confusion Tarrin had caused by going on strike. He hadn't heard anything back from his actions yet, but he had no doubt that there were words flying in the Chamber of the Council at that very moment. It could very well be what would push them over the edge, and make information that they needed shake from tight-lipped mouths. Where Keritanima's spies would pick it up and bring it to her, through Miranda. He had to laugh. "I guess I could go claw up the library," he said with a teasing smile.

  "We'll save that one for later," she said with a wink.

  "I'm shocked that the Knights are willing to take it this far. Their motto of All Are One Under Karas is more than just a pretty phrase."

  "They are worthy of the honor they hold," she said quietly. "To put all at risk for the sake of one, that is true honor. I must sing of this to my clan. It must be recorded in our histories."

  "A Knight," he said, his voice trembling. "We're Knights."

  Allia put a hand on his arm. She knew about his youthful dream, and her warm eyes rejoiced with him that he had attained a goal he felt had been forever put out of reach. "There is only honor in it for me because I stand at your side, my brother," she told him. "You honor my family and our clan. My father cannot deny that."

  "That reminds me," he said, coming back to earth for a while, "we have to decide what to do with Kerri."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Your clan won't give her refuge if they don't trust her," he said seriously. "I can't make the decision to allow her to accept the brands, but I don't know if your people will accept her unless she has them. It comes down to your wisdom, deshaida. What should we do?"

  "I've been pondering that for a while, brother," she replied. "I don't know how my clan would accept her. She has the manners, but she would seem to them to be weak. Many of my people hate the outsiders, even Wikuni. She would have to be better, stronger, faster, than my people for them to accept her."

  "She's a Sorceress, sister," he said bluntly. "You told me yourself that the Selani respect the katzh-dashi."

  "After we explain why we're there, that respect will disappear, my brother," she told him. "She would have to carry the brands. They wouldn't accept her any other way."

  "That's your department, my sister, and your decision. You would be her sponsor. Is she worthy?"

  "From what I know of her, yes. I do like her, my brother. A great deal. She is calm, intelligent, and she is loyal. And she makes me laugh. I would find great honor in having one such as her to be my sister. But I will have to ask the Holy Mother. As always, it will be her decision."

  Allia and Tarrin walked back towards their rooms, thoughts on the future, spirits riding high in the achievement of a long-desired dream, and hopes that they had done well by their Wikuni companion, who wanted the Tower to be so shaken up that the information they desired sifted up to the top. Tarrin felt that things were beginning to look good for them, that they would find what they needed to find, understand what it meant, and if it was not good, then make plans for the future to confound what the Tower wanted of them. They had found new allies in the Knights, staunch and determined men that would help them fight against the injustice being done to them. And they would help Tarrin and Allia most simply by standing up to stir the pot which the three non-human conspirators had brought to a boil.

  If they only knew what chaos they were causing at that moment. Chaos that would shake the very foundations of the world.

  Chapter 16

  "He did what?" the Keeper exploded from her desk, jumping to her feet only moments after taking her seat. Amelyn, her face pale, stepped back from the diminutive Keeper, rightfully fearing to be singled out by the Keeper's wrath for the bad news. The Keeper was notorious for punishing the messengers who were bearing bad news, and because of that, nobody wanted to be the one to break things to her. Not even members of the Council could escape such wrath.

  The Keeper was in a foul mood. Her appointment at the court of King Erick had not gone well. Erick had men of learning around him to explain to him what the light from the Tower had been, and the legends of what it meant, and now he was starting to interfere with their plans. Erick wanted Tarrin, and he wanted him now. It was all the Keeper could do to remind the young, brash king, only two years on his throne, that the treaties between the Tower and the Crown could not be broken, nor could they b
e used to force the katzh-dashi to hand over their young charge. It had turned into a shouting match, much to the shock of the court, a shouting match where truly ugly threats of invasion and magical retribution flew between the Keeper and the young king freely. The Keeper had never liked Erick. He was a spoiled wastrel whose only talent was finding men capable enough to run the kingdom in his stead, while he spent vast amounts of the kingdom's money on horses, palaces, and debauched luxuries. He was lazy and hedonistic, interested only in his fortunes, his possessions, and his power as king. He was such a disappointment coming from the line of Aralon, which had put a long succession of outstanding kings and queens on the Lion Throne of Sulasia for six hundred years. Erick represented to the Keeper the end of the Aralon dynasty, and the noble houses of Sulasia were already beginning to jockey for position to succeed them. The nobles were as dissatisfied with Erick as the Keeper was, and the Keeper didn't forsee him surviving long on the throne. Erick wasn't stupid enough to understand this, and had managed to surround himself with competent people who were paid more than other noble houses could match, money that ensured their loyalty and his continued reign. Erick was mad for power, but only for power that he didn't have to dirty his own hands to acquire. That made Tarrin and the pending events very appealing to him.

  What King wouldn't jump at the chance to gain the powers of a God?

  It was already starting to look ugly. Reports from the Tower in Sharadar had arrived, and the news was grim. The Mage-King of Zakkar had already begun to mass his impressive array of army and navy, all reinforced by thousands of Warmages. The Emperor of Arak, the mightiest nation on the face of the world, was beginning to call in his legions from their war with the empire of Godan, which was itself a mighty kingdom on the continent of Godan-Nyr and Arak's longest and most hated enemy. Nyr, the smallest of the Three Empires of Middle World, had remained carefully neutral through their larger neighbor's century-long war, but now it was massing its armies. Even among the smaller kingdoms of the West, there was activity. Arkis was building its own legions, and the mountain kingdom of Daltochan had closed its borders. Draconian knights had begun attacking Dal mining caravans around the Petal Lakes, and the Ungardt had begun to call in their warships.

  It told Myriam Lar much. Most of those nations were not surprising to see preparing, but others were. The Ungardt had a dislike of magic, yet they seemed to know what was beginning to come to pass. So did Daltochan, but the Dals were a strange people, taciturn and introverted, so it was hard to know what was going on on the high plateaus of their mountain nation. But Arak, Zakkar, Godan, Nyr, Arkis, they all had mages in close attendance to the kings and emperors that ruled those kingdoms, and what had happened the night of the sign had sent magical shockwaves across the world that nobody who could command magic could miss.

  It had begun. There was no disputing that now. And Tarrin was the key.

  The world would descend into a war which would rival the titanic struggle against the Demons five thousand years before, a war to rival the Great Blood War. And it would be fought over the possession of one man, a simple young farmboy from Aldreth.

  Tarrin was a Mi'Shara, a Man Who Once Was, and he was the key. Not since the Ancients walked the earth had someone of his raw, unprecendented power graced the Tower. Weavespinner, Were-cat, he fulfilled all the requirements set forth in the Book of Ages, before that ancient tome had disappeared. He was of noble blood, but his blood was not human. Nobody understood exactly what the term Mi'Shara meant, but it was a term from the Old Tongue that translated to mean He Who Was, or He Who Once Was. Gender irregularities in the Old Tongue could also allow it to be translated to mean She Who Was, or She Who Once Was as well, depending on the context in which the word was used. The strange thing was that the Book of Ages made no reference to his title, only to his requirements. He would be a non-human of noble blood, who had the power to wield Sorcery. Such beings were exceedingly rare. The Sha'Kar, the vanished race that had occupied the Tower with the Ancients, had been the only non-human race to demonstrate an aptitude for Sorcery. In a thousand years of searching, only two others had been found. Allia and Keritanima.

  Nobody understood why these rare individuals were termed Mi'Shara. Nobody understood what "Once Was" meant, because nothing ever said what they had once been. All they had to work with was the passage in the Book of Ages that described them, nonhumans of noble blood who could wield Sorcery. Tarrin, however, did seem to fit that term better than his female companions, because he once was human.

  What was even stranger was that it was written that the Mi'Shara were only the ones with the best chance of achieving the ultimate goal. Anyone who knew where to go and what to do could also reach the ultimate objective. That meant that half of the world would want to capture Mi'Shara, and Tarrin specifically, to get it for them. The other half would be seeking to kill Tarrin and all Mi'Shara to prevent them from getting it first.

  It would have been much easier if it was written that only Mi'Shara could reach it. That would make it easier for the Tower to protect their assets from capture. It was much easier to protect someone from kidnapping than it was to protect someone from being killed.

  The Book of Ages. If only she could hold that ancient, much treasured tome, if only once. In that book was written the entire history of the world up to the Breaking, the last known copy of the book that had once been known as Denthar's Compendium. The only book of ancient history that was not written in the indecipherable langauge of the Sha'Kar, for it had been scribed by the priests of Denthar, the god of knowledge and lore. All of the books had been destroyed during the Breaking, except for one. And that had been found in a trunk in a noble's manor just after the Sorcerers returned to the Tower. Very little was known of the world before the Breaking, a time known as the Age of Power, when magic was so prevelant that the common farmer often utilized enchanted tools, and the most average layman knew a cantrip or two. Before the Weave was torn. Much ground had they regained since that horrible time, both the Sorcerers and the world. The Weave had almost completely mended itself, though there were still a few places in the world where the Weave had not grown back. Magic-dead areas, called deadzones, peppered the Known World, and were often populated by people who had gotten on the bad side of a Wizard. Magic had returned to the world, but not as Sorcerers this time around. It was the Wizards who were the most common type of magician, mainly because so many Sorcerers had been killed in the Breaking, and unlike Wizardy, Sorcery was an inherited power rather than a learned skill.

  The deaths of so many Sorcerers had almost scoured the gift from the world, and the diluted powers of the less gifted children who remained weakened considerably. The Ancients were always careful to pair their most powerful members, so that their children would have the gift on both sides of their family, and be even stronger. Such selective breeding vanished in the Breaking, and the inherited gift thinned through the years, until the Sorcerers returned to the Tower and again began to carefully nurture the inherited power in their members. A selective breeding program had yet to be initiated, mainly because the Council had not yet garnered enough favor among the katzh-dashi for the idea. Times had changed, and the culture had changed. What the Ancients had done was no longer acceptable to the modern man, especially among the female katzh-dashi. But in its own way, it had begun again. Katzh-dashi did tend to marry within the order, if only because only another Sorcerer understood the rigors and demands of Sorcery. And the children of these internal unions almost always displayed aptitude in the gift. Amelyn was the child of just such a union. She had been born and raised on the grounds, and the Tower and the katzh-dashi was all she knew and all she had ever wanted. And she was powerful, ranking among the most powerful of the katzh-dashi.

  But even her power seemed insignificant compared to Tarrin. He could somehow tap directly into a Conduit, and that awesome raw power would try to flow into him. He couldn't control it. The Keeper couldn't see how anyone could. The power of a Conduit was all sev
en Spheres, just like a strand, and that meant that Tarrin was being filled with the power of High Sorcery. The Sorcerers could only handle High Sorcery in circles, where the incredible demand and strain was spread out among a group. But Tarrin had the raw power to be able to draw on High Sorcery alone. And it was simply more power than even his considerable ability could control. Circles, wielding High Sorcery, even they would not attempt to tap directly into a Conduit. They would only try to draw the sphere of Confluence from strands. The power of a Conduit was even more than a circle could control, and yet this young farmboy from a forgotten corner of Sulasia could tap directly into that awesome power, and he could do it alone.

  But being able to access it, and being able to control it were two different animals.

  It was a complicated problem, something that had occupied the Council's attention the entire day before. They were already working on how they could help him overcome his problem, somehow resist the flood of High Sorcery and be able to work with normal flows and weaves. They had wanted to study him, but the Keeper wouldn't be there to help out. She had spent all day at court.

  And now Amelyn bursts into her office, and tells her that Tarrin refuses to accept any more training!

  "He will not come," she said in a quivering voice. "He told me to tell you that he won't learn any more or do as we say until we lower the Ward and let him off the grounds." She swallowed. "He made it clear that anyone trying to force him to do anything does so at his or her own peril."

  "I will not tolerate rebellion in my own Tower!" The Keeper said in an absolute explosion of fury. "That boy will learn now just who holds his leash, I swear it!"

  "Keeper!" Amelyn gasped. "Tarrin isn't entirely stable! If you push him, he'll go mad, and then what use will he be to us?"

  "I don't care," she snapped. "I want Tarrin back in class, and I want it now. He has got to be ready, and this new problem of his is going to jeopardize things as it is. We absolutely cannot allow any delays."