by Dan Zangari
“Did you not hear him?” Sharon asked Ordreth. “Or are you just dumbfounded?” That last remark lightened Ordreth’s mood.
“Come on,” Hem said. “We’ve got to hurry! Tinal said that Cornar wants everyone gathered at his estate as soon as possible. I ran across Demsal, and he said you two were the only ones that hadn’t been told yet. Demsal said we’d send word in the morning. Ridiculous! But the meeting is tomorrow night, and I couldn’t let you guys miss out! We have to set sail in four days, so that doesn’t give us much time, you know. Anyway, Demsal said he didn’t know where you were, so I found Markin. Markin said that he thought you were out in the country, but he wouldn’t say any more, even when I pressed him! Then I crossed paths with Grensil, and he said he overheard Kalder saying you were staying here for a few nights. So, I enhanced my horse and galloped all the way here. Poor guy is tired, but that’s okay, because now you guys know!”
Ordreth stared blankly at Hem. The man could be so dense sometimes… Obviously, Demsal knew not to bother Ordreth. Ordreth deduced that Uncle Cor was probably waiting until the morning to send word after the proposal. Ordreth supposed he couldn’t be upset with his uncle. Uncle Cor had obviously tried to keep tonight special. But then Hem got into the mix… Oh well.
“We should have them wrap up the food,” Sharon said, tapping Ordreth’s arm. Did she think he wasn’t paying attention? Well, he was looking absentmindedly across the balcony, thinking over Hem’s convoluted outburst. “We can eat it at your uncle’s,” she added and rose from her seat. “You go talk to the chef or waiter, or whoever. I’m going to change. I can’t ride like this!” She rushed past Hem, disappearing down the hall.
After a moment, the interrupter approached the table. “What’s wrong, Ordreth?” Hem asked. He raised an eyebrow and rubbed his bald chin. Ordreth slowly turned to Hem. He let his blank expression fade and his displeasure show.
“Hem, tonight was supposed to be special…”
“Oh, it is!” Hem cried. “This is a night to be remembered! Ordreth, this is going to be huge!”
“No, Hem.” Ordreth shook his head, his voice becoming stern. “Tonight was supposed to be special for just me and Sharon.”
“Huh?” Hem scratched his head. “Why? It’s not like an anniversary or anything. You two have only been seeing each other for a year and a half…”
“Hem.” Ordreth growled the name. He couldn’t find the words to speak, so he reached into his pocket and removed the envelope holding the betrothal band. The ring’s outline protruded enough so that one could discern what it was.
Hem’s eyes widened, finally enlightened after seeing the ring’s outline. “Oh!” he cried. “Oh! Oh…” He looked back over his shoulder, searching for Sharon. But she was already long gone. Hem leaned close to Ordreth and whispered. “You’re finally asking her?”
“Well… I was,” Ordreth said, perturbed.
“Oh…” Hem sighed. The illusionist looked like he was replaying events in his mind. Sadness and embarrassment contorted his face. He must have realized what he’d just done. “I’m sorry, Ordreth.” He slumped down into Sharon’s chair. The two of them sat silently for a moment, and then another pair of footsteps echoed onto the balcony.
Ordreth turned to see the waiter carrying a platter with a domed bronze cover. His and Sharon’s dinner… The waiter halted abruptly upon seeing Hem. He looked to Ordreth, confused, and then studied Hem. The waiter continued looking back and forth between the two men until Ordreth finally spoke. “Can you have our food wrapped up?” Ordreth asked, his face wreathed in disappointment. “We need to be going…”
“Of course,” the waiter said, and then hurried back down the hall, leaving Ordreth and Hem to sit in silence once again.
What a disaster…
* * * * *
The following evening, Cornar paced the foyer of his country home. He hardly ever paced when waiting. But this was an unusual night, putting together an expedition without actually intending to be a part of it. It was strange, perhaps even sad.
Chattering noises reached Cornar’s ears from the parlor. Dozens of men filled the room. Some occupied the parlor furniture, but others sat on chairs from the dining room, stools from the kitchen, or chairs from other places in the house. There were at least thirty in that room, and people were still missing.
A knock resonated from the home’s main entrance, and Cornar opened the door. A thick-set man and a short woman stood in the portico—Igan and his wife Baekal, both masterful wizards. Why was Baekal here? Cornar wondered. Didn’t she have several students under her tutelage? Perhaps she was curious. Cornar’s message had been quite unusual.
“Good evening, Cor,” Igan said, smiling reminiscently. He extended an arm toward Cornar and the two of them embraced. Igan stood almost a head shorter than Cornar. His brown hair was neatly combed back, and his brown eyes had the eagerness many of the others’ had shown. “This is exciting!” he said.
“It sure sounds like it,” Baekal said, folding her arms. She always acted aloof, even when she was interested. What a strange woman. But Baekal was a great elementalist—a type of wizard who focused on harnessing the destructive powers of nature.
Unlike her husband, Baekal was slender, her face thin, with high cheekbones and a sharp, pointed chin. Her long brown locks cascaded over her shoulders, almost touching her breasts. She had been a good-looking woman in her youth, but now her face bore some wrinkles and prominent lines, particularly between her sharp nose and her thin lips. Baekal hadn’t aged well, not like Karenna. But no woman could rival Karenna.
“So, tevisrals?” Baekal asked. “Iltar said something about a magical map, shrines of an ancient Order?” So Iltar told them about Krindal and the meeting with the council. Interesting…
Cornar nodded.
“Fun,” Baekal said, stepping past Igan. She moved down the foyer, leaving her husband with Cornar.
“We’re gonna be famous, Cor,” Igan said, grinning. “And rich beyond measure!”
“I’m already too famous, and I have sufficient for my needs.”
“You’re no fun,” Igan grumbled and stepped past Cornar. “So, does that mean I can have your share of the loot?”
Cornar simply grinned. Igan doesn’t know my intentions, he thought. That’s good. And Cornar wasn’t worried that Iltar would say anything. Cornar could trust that man with his darkest secret. Of course, Iltar would do the same. In fact, he had.
Igan and Baekal mingled with the others. They found the younger mages sitting at the back of the parlor. Tinal, Igan’s former apprentice, stood and offered Igan his seat. Igan declined, but Baekal took the offer. She was an imposing woman. Cornar was glad Karenna wasn’t as pushy.
With the door still open, Cornar poked his head out into the portico. A horse-drawn wagon was coming down the path bearing three with familiar faces and a fourth one he didn’t recognize.
That must be Krindal, Cornar thought. Iltar was talking to the stranger. The other two men, Jalim and Delrin, sat at the front of the wagon beside the driver, Iltar’s groom.
Delrin and Jalim came? That was surprising. They hadn’t been on an adventure with Cornar in at least ten years. Besides, they were supposed to guard Iltar’s tower. If they weren’t there then who was watching the tower? His maid, Belsina, would be the only one at the homestead… Strange that Iltar would bring them. Were they that eager to join the adventure? Or did Iltar want them to hear Cornar’s announcement tonight? Cornar would be joining them in retirement; perhaps Iltar thought he’d want some support from men who had done what he intended to do.
The carriage stopped upon nearing the home, and the four men disembarked. Jalim hurried to the open door with Delrin hobbling close behind.
“Evenin’, Cor!” Jalim said with a smile, and patted him on the shoulder. “Doing well?”
Cornar nodded. “As well as expected.”
“Cor!” Delrin shouted. He hobbled over and hugged Cornar. He was a good man with a chee
rful disposition, despite the limp. Why hadn’t he hired an arpranist to heal that limp? Iltar paid him generously enough.
The sound of more horses drew both Cornar and Delrin’s attention. Farther down the path leading to the large home, three men approached. Kalder was at the head, followed by Aron and Brendar. The latter two men were natives of Sarn. Kalder must have had to take the ferry from Serinta—a village on the northwestern side of the Isle of Soroth—to fetch them.
“This is like the old days,” Delrin chimed, a huge smile on his face. “Isn’t this great, Cor?!”
“C’mon, Delrin,” Jalim urged. “We’re gonna need to grab some chairs.”
Cornar pulled back from the doorway, looking into the parlor. They needed at least five more seats. By Heleron’s Scales, when had their party grown so large? And they still didn’t have their entire arsenal of mages.
“Go find Karenna,” Cornar said. “She’ll help you find some more chairs. We need five more.”
As Delrin and Jalim hurried down the foyer, Iltar and Krindal entered the portico. “I believe some introductions are in order,” Iltar said to Krindal. “This is my friend Cornar.”
Krindal stepped into the home, his wrinkles becoming more pronounced as he smiled at Cornar. “It is a pleasure to meet a man of such esteem,” the old scholar said. “With you and your men at my side we will surely triumph!”
“My men will be at your disposal, Master Krindal,” Cornar said, gesturing for the necromancers to enter his home. “Everyone is gathered in my parlor. We’ve run out of seats, but I’ve sent Delrin and Jalim to get more.”
“Oh, I can stand,” Krindal said, maneuvering his pack to rest against his stomach. The old scholar reached inside, removing a domed disk.
Is that the tevisral? Cornar wondered.
Krindal held the domed object close and looked to Iltar. “We’ll be over there.” Iltar pointed to the parlor. “I’d have a word with Cor for a moment.” Krindal nodded and walked toward the crowd, picking his way, careful not to step on anyone’s feet.
Once Krindal had moved to the center of the parlor, Iltar gestured with his head toward the door, and the two men stepped out onto the portico. They watched as the three horsemen rode down the path.
“How has Pagus been?” Iltar whispered.
“He’s fine,” Cornar said. “I did what you asked. He seemed eager to go head-to-head with me in the drills you suggested. He’s a good mage, Iltar. He has the potential to rival even Balden.” Iltar winced at the mention of his former apprentice. Cornar regretted mentioning Balden, but he couldn’t just forget about him completely. “I miss that boy,” Cornar said, his tone melancholy.
“As do I,” Iltar said, frowning.
The three horsemen disappeared around the home, heading for the stables.
“When do you want to make your announcement?” Iltar asked.
“At the end,” Cornar replied. “I don’t want to dampen this meeting.” Iltar nodded. They stood silently until Kalder rounded the home, Aron and Brendar close behind. Kalder nodded to the two leaders of their band.
Aron stopped at the steps leading to the portico and raised his brow at Cornar. He glanced to Iltar then back to Cornar. “You’re serious?” Aron asked. “Really serious?”
Brendar groaned. “I’ve been telling you since we left Sarn. When does Cor ever joke about an adventure? It’s not like he’s using deceit to lure us here.”
No, Cornar wouldn’t resort to lying to his men. They were loyal to him, fiercely loyal. But when they heard his announcement, would some of them see this meeting as deceitful?
Both Aron and Brendar pushed past Cornar and Iltar, still debating the matter. Their voices lingered as they entered the parlor.
“That’s everyone but Vargos,” Cornar said.
“He’ll be here,” Iltar said, turning around. He was about to enter the home but stopped at the threshold. “Don’t you remember he’s always late?”
* * * * *
A half an hour later, the sun set in the east and the grounds of Cornar’s country estate had darkened. Cornar had stayed outside the whole time, waiting for Vargos. He didn’t want to be around his men, not when his announcement was weighing on his mind. Cornar was sure it was visible on his face. It was best not to show that to his men.
A glimmer of light caught his eye over the hill at the front of his property. It was bright enough to illuminate a lone figure on horseback. Although Cornar couldn’t discern who it was, he knew it was Vargos. Like Iltar said, the man was always late.
It took Vargos awhile to ride from the hill. He cantered his horse past the home, and Cornar heard a brief exchange between Vargos and Iltar’s groom. Hegdil was reassuring the late-comer that he’d take care of the animal.
Soon after, Vargos arrived at the portico. He was a rugged man, with salt-and-pepper hair encircling his bald pate. His grizzled beard matched. The man’s gray-violet eyes studied Cornar for a moment. Vargos often looked wild. One might expect old Amendal to look like this, but that codger was neatly kept. Vargos, however, looked downright uncivilized. His dark-blue robe was almost always dirty. Even when it was washed, it had faint stain marks. It wasn’t that Vargos was barbaric; he was just so engrossed in his magic that he tended to neglect things. That was actually the chief reason behind his frequent tardiness.
“Been waiting long?” Vargos asked, still standing at the bottom of the steps.
“About half an hour,” Cornar said.
Vargos bobbed his head and made a contemplating face. “Not the worst, but not the greatest,” he said, climbing one step. “How many people are here?”
“Nearly forty,” Cornar said. “There would be more if we had all our mages.”
“Ah, yes.” Vargos said with a grunt, climbing one more step. “That stupid stipulation. Let me guess, Alacor made it, right?” He studied Cornar with a hard look.
“He, Jalel, and Melnor.”
“Well, glad I don’t have to worry about that,” Vargos said. “I haven’t had an apprentice in nearly thirty-five years, I think? Something like that. Had to dismiss—oh, I forget what his name was—when the Order changed.” Vargos climbed another step. “Did I ever tell you that Alacor asked me to train some youngster three years ago?” Cornar shook his head.
“Yeah,” Vargos said, grinning, “he came groveling. Saying I was the last hope for the barsionist discipline here on Soroth.”
“What did you do?” Cornar asked, his brow raised.
“I spat in his face!” That struck a jovial chord. Vargos kept laughing as he continued, “The pompous bastard just wiped the spittle from his cheek and asked again. If you’d seen him, you’d have thought him some diplomat or something. Alacor kept droning on and on that I shouldn’t let the barsion discipline die. Claiming I have a duty to Soroth. Blah, blah, blah! Well, his predecessors should have thought twice before reforming the Order. By all that’s magical, I would have left the island too if it weren’t for my family. And good friends too.” He gestured to Cornar.
“Thank you?” Cornar muttered quizzically, his brow still raised.
Vargos laughed again, then patted Cornar on the shoulder. “You know,” he continued, “I’d take another apprentice if Iltar was in charge. Things would be much different with him running the Order.”
“It would be different,” Cornar said.
“If I were Iltar, I’d just put Alacor and the others away privily,” Vargos said, waving his hand. “Iltar could do it. He could make murder look like a disappearance.” Vargos stopped, looking squarely at Cornar. After studying him for a moment, Vargos spoke again in a much lower voice. “I’ve wondered if that’s what happened all those years ago with Cordis, Rovin, and all their cohorts. One by one, they all just disappeared, never to be heard of again.” Vargos stopped, gazing at Cornar with a probing stare that seemed to ask, Is that what happened? Did Iltar kill them out of vengeance for his parents’ demise?
Cornar ignored that unspoken question. He smiled and
patted Vargos on the shoulder. Shaking his head, Vargos shuffled past Cornar and entered the home.
Finally, everyone was gathered. They could have their meeting and Cornar could make his announcement. Then life would be peaceful.
“I lost track of the years I spent on that forlorn isle. Decades seemed to blur, but eventually a young girl stumbled across me. It was good to have the company. She was a curious one, always asking questions. Her name was Elynia.”
- From Origins and Oaths of the Keepers, preface
Silence hung in the parlor as the men and women turned in their seats to look at Cornar. He stood in the entryway, behind a row of chairs that spilled into the foyer. Usually, Cornar stood at the front of the room beside Iltar when announcing adventures to the far reaches of the world. But not today. Perhaps that was fitting? Or even foreshadowing.
Cornar looked to Iltar and simply nodded. It was an indication for him to start the meeting. He often deferred to Iltar in such matters. Both of them were natural leaders, yet they didn’t clash. They complimented each other well. It was a strange dynamic that many noticed.
“I’m sure all of you are anxious,” Iltar said, and cleared his throat. That drew the attention of most but several eyed Cornar with suspicion. “This is an amazing opportunity for us, after all.”
Iltar continued prefacing the meeting with notions of fame and fortune; it was a common rhetoric of his that often inspired those who heard it.
As Iltar spoke, Karenna tiptoed through the foyer toward Cornar, listening as she approached her husband. Karenna glanced to Iltar and all the others, counting each of them, mouthing the numbers as she counted. Her eyes widened in surprise. Perhaps Karenna hadn’t thought that they could muster this many of Iltar and Cornar’s band on such short notice.
After counting the men and women, Karenna nestled next to Cornar. She wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. There was a bittersweetness to her embrace tonight. He could have her like this whenever he wanted… but it would mean sacrificing what was unfolding before him in the parlor.
