by Dan Zangari
Laeyit scowled at the question, and Bratan tensed. Kaescis, however, straightened up, resuming a regal pose. Yet Cornar could see the hostility in the prince’s eyes. He looked like he wanted to kill Nordal.
“That is why we’re here, Mister Nordal,” Kaescis said cordially. His face, however, belied his tone. “Since there was confusion about Klindil, I am holding this council to stop such secrecy from ruining our camaraderie.”
“We appreciate that, Your Imperial Highness,” Jahevial said. “My fellow scholars and I were also concerned, seeing as we didn’t know the end goals for this expedition.”
“I can assure you there is nothing more to hide,” Kaescis said.
Nordal didn’t look convinced. Neither was Cornar.
“Captains,” Kaescis looked about the table, “where do we think we are positioned?”
Admiral Kaetet grabbed a thin-tipped rod and poked it through the magic. He held the tip near a set of islands at the northern section of the magnified topography. “I believe we are here,” the admiral said. “We spotted three islands to our west earlier today. My calculations predicted we would be passing by them sometime this evening, so we must have had a favorable tailwind sometime during the night.”
“I take it that marker Master Krindal placed denotes Dalgilur?” Captain Hetarin asked. “Smack dab in the center of the World’s Frown?”
“It is,” Krindal answered.
Nordal furrowed his brow and looked at Cornar as if expecting him to say something. Cornar didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known where Dalgilur was located. But a location within the World’s Frown did make sense. It was a section of water, scattered with dozens of islands, that was said to swallow up ships. Some sailors claimed that compasses would stop working when one entered the Frown. Ships avoided the World’s Frown, and it was the subject of many farfetched sea tales. The area’s name stemmed from its appearance—if one traced a line on a map from island to island, the line would form a jagged, frowning mouth.
One of the officers from Hetarin’s ship leaned closer to the marker, noting the islands north of it. He grabbed one of the sea charts and lifted it off the table, moving it through the projected magic. The officer stepped back and began making calculations.
“We’ve already plotted a course,” Admiral Kaetet said. “According to my calculations, we will arrive at the edge of the World’s Frown in a little over a week and a half.”
“And what happens once we get to the edge of the Frown?” asked one of Hetarin’s officers.
Kaescis straightened. “Master Krindal will see us through the World’s Frown,” the prince said. “His attunement in Klindil will grant us access to Dalgilur. I don’t understand the process completely, but there is some sort of magic barring Dalgilur from the outside world. Only an attuned Keeper of Truth and Might can penetrate it.”
“And how exactly will this affect the ships?” Kaetet asked warily.
Krindal sucked in his breath before answering. “We… don’t know.”
Hubbub ensued, with many voicing their concerns. Hetarin and his officers insisted that they needed to find out more before attempting to cross the Frown.
Kaescis raised his hand in a placating manner. “Everyone, calm yourselves,” he said with a sigh. “There are several possibilities. One theory is that the barrier will dissipate for a time. Another theory is that the vessel carrying Master Krindal will be transported.”
“Are there any other theories, Your Imperial Highness?” Hetarin asked.
Kaescis shook his head.
“I assume you have a plan, Your Imperial Highness?” an officer asked hopefully.
“Yes,” the prince answered. “We will link our vessels together, as we do when transferring personnel between ships.”
Vargos snorted a laugh, drawing raised eyebrows from the Mindolarnians.
“And what do you find so funny?” Bratan bellowed, folding his arms.
“You want to trick magic?” Vargos snorted again. “Magic can’t be fooled.”
“A tevisral is obviously creating the barrier,” Laeyit interjected. “It can’t tell the difference between the ships if they are all linked together.”
Vargos continued laughing and shook his head. The Mindolarnians ignored the old barsionist and continued discussing the matter.
“What about massing everyone on one ship?” Captain Regader asked.
“I would rather not,” Kaescis waved his hand in a dismissal. “We are already pressing capacity with our allies.” The prince gestured to the two Wildmen. “We link the ships.”
“That sounds risky,” Gregan said.
“Yeah,” Nordal said. “What if we encounter a storm or turbulent seas?”
“The ships’ hulls will be reinforced by barsion,” Kaescis said, not looking at either warrior. “None of the vessels will be in any danger. Now, Master Krindal, show us Dalgilur.”
Krindal magnified the projection further. The scholars beside him gasped in wonder as they eyed the sight now projected from the tevisral. Everyone was impressed, especially Gevistra and the female Wildman.
A crescent-shaped island filled most of the map, with a bay along its southeast side. The island wasn’t large by any means. Cornar couldn’t tell its size exactly. Perhaps it was as large as Soroth, the city. A mountain range rose along the north and northwest shores and tapered down to hills near the southern parts of the island. The mountains looked like they rose right out of the ocean. Most of the island’s level parts were on the southern side of the mountain range.
A towering building protruded from the mountainside, oriented to the northwest. It rose nearly as tall as the mountains. A circular city lay beneath it, laid out in a pattern Cornar had never beheld. All the buildings faced the city’s center, with streets spreading from the center like the spokes of a wheel. From what Cornar could tell, there were three tiers to the city’s layout: a central ring that had seven buildings, a middle ring that had fourteen buildings and an outer ring with twenty-one buildings.
A road led from the city to the bay, ending at what looked like a pier. Elsewhere on the island were two other piers, on the northeast and the southwest parts of the bay.
“Behold, Dalgilur,” Kaescis said. “I propose we moor along this central pier.” The prince pointed to the pier aligned with the city.
“If it’s still intact,” Nordal remarked doubtfully. “This map showed Klindil’s buildings before their ruin. I hate to say it, but your map is probably outdated.”
The captains looked at the warrior with annoyance but returned their attention to Kaescis.
“These mountains pose a potential problem,” the prince continued. “Grand Marshal Hezidex, I want you to send a team of scouts up the mountains to spy on the northern waters. We must be apprised when those vile elves arrive.”
The grand marshal nodded.
“Captain Regader, once we moor, take your ship to the southern tip.” Kaescis pointed to the shores beyond the hills. “If the Sapphire Guard attempts to moor near the piers, we will attack from both sides. Your vessel will pin them in the bay.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” the captain replied with a nod.
“Grand marshal, set a contingent of your archers and mages on the piers.”
Kaescis continued giving orders and explained his plans once they moored on the island. The Wildmen were to reinforce the Mindolarnian army, augmenting their numbers.
“Mister Dol’shir,” the prince said. “Will you and your men scout the city once we moor?”
That question shocked Cornar. Was the prince actually trusting him with a task? Or was this a means to use his band as fodder for whatever dangers existed on the island?
“Your men proved invaluable beneath Klindil,” Kaescis continued. “As you are a band of explorers, I think it fitting that you lead us into the depths of Dalgilur.”
Kalder looked at Cornar, awaiting an answer. Gregan folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, while Nordal chuckled.
“Bait?” Kaescis asked with dismay. “Of course not.”
Igan glanced to Cornar, obviously worried.
Cornar, however, felt calm about the task. “We can do that,” he said.
Kaescis continued proposing his plans for the island. The prince didn’t pay any more attention to Cornar or his men for the rest of the meeting.
After an hour, they were finished. Before Kaescis left, he stared at Cornar with that same anticipating gaze. The prince smiled grimly, then exited the war room with Bratan and Laeyit. The two Wildmen left soon after—they seemed wary of the voyage, and Cornar thought he heard the woman murmuring about the dooms of traveling what she called Everspanning Waters.
One by one, the other leaders of the expedition left, leaving Cornar alone with those of his band.
“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Igan whispered. “I don’t trust the prince, especially after hearing about that dream of yours.”
“Neither do I,” Gregan said, gazing out the windows. He was undoubtedly checking to see if anyone could overhear their conversation.
“Well, he is a bit of a pompous ass,” Vargos said, and Nordal chuckled.
Kalder was the last to approach Cornar, studying his mentor with a serious gaze. “What do your feelings have to say about this, Cor?” he asked.
Cornar took a deep breath, thinking about the task proposed by Kaescis. It seemed… reasonable. He couldn’t say it was safe, as they were exploring someplace totally foreign. But, there wasn’t a nagging feeling of danger.
“It’ll be fine,” Cornar nodded. “I don’t think there’s anything malicious at Dalgilur.”
“Let’s hope so,” Vargos said, leaning against the table.
“We’re still keeping the loot to ourselves, right?” Nordal asked.
Igan looked at him dumbfounded. “Just because they let us in on all the details doesn’t mean we’re going to change our minds, right, Cor?”
Cornar smiled at the wizard. “That’s right.”
The noise of the lowering poles and gangway reached the war room.
“C’mon,” Cornar waved to his men. “Let’s get off this boat and back to our tournament.”
Nordal grinned, clasping Kalder’s shoulder. “Yeah, are you ready for me to beat you into submission?” he asked.
Kalder glanced to Nordal with a raised brow, then a sly grin formed across his face. “Oh, you wish,” he said.
Amused, Cornar shook his head at the banter as they exited the war room.
“Claiming the Ril’Sha wasn’t enough for the self-proclaimed deity. He turned his eye to humankind, visiting the men of Bathiral in a form not his own.”
- From The Thousand Years War, Part I, page 19
Since accessing the Royal Archive, Iltar had learned a great deal about Vabenack and the workings of that realm. Vaegris had delivered Iltar a copy of a tome that expounded the theories found in Dreamwalker. It was written by someone who shared the name of the fabled child stealer, Esmid. He was an ancient priest of a religion that was probably a parent theology to the beliefs adhered to by the Mindolarnians. The tome gave specific instructions about how to manipulate the Translucent Fields.
With proper training, one could use Vabenack to relive the past or see the future, at least the potential future. Because of people’s ability to make choices, one couldn’t see the actual future. The priest explained a principal called divergent possibilities, where the Translucent Fields could show a future event in multiple ways.
This Esmid also droned on for quite a while about how to manipulate this principle properly. If one could influence a variety of actions leading to the event—and the actions during the event—one could in essence foresee the future.
This priest likened the future as free-flowing water. In order to predict it accurately, one must manipulate the water into a certain course; only then could the future be predicted with effectiveness. Although, even then, it wouldn’t be perfect. The whole thing sounded like the nonsense Reflection had babbled about when Iltar first spoke with him.
After several days of study, Iltar decided to venture back into Vabenack and test the things he had learned. He wanted to conjure an experience from the more recent past. A projection of the future would be too grueling a task to undertake, especially for a novice.
The whole process was similar to casting a spell, using a string of strange-sounding words, words that were sharp and guttural. They sounded very similar to the gibberish the attendants spoke to open the secret passage to the Royal Archive. Iltar had tried to get Vaegris to help him understand those words, but the crotchety librarian only glared at Iltar in annoyance. So Iltar was left to his own understanding to guess at the proper pronunciations. There were no guides in the tome he had studied, and the text was written as if whoever was reading should know how to enunciate such words.
It was Iltar’s first time back in Vabenack since his encounter with Cornar. He expected to find Reflection waiting for him. That, however, wasn’t the case. Upon entering the Translucent Fields Iltar was surprised to find Pagus standing with his arms folded.
“It’s about time,” Pagus said smugly. “We were wondering when you would show.”
We? Iltar furrowed his brow. Was this really Pagus? Or was this some trick brought on by Reflection?
“There’s that look again…” Pagus sighed, pointing behind Iltar.
Confused, Iltar spun. Three figures dashed across the field of glass. As they neared, Iltar recognized three more of his acolytes: Agen, Tigan, and Bilda.
“They actually made it?” Iltar wondered aloud.
“Uh, yeah,” Pagus said mockingly. “We braved our nightmares and laid our claim to this realm.”
Iltar glanced back to Pagus, but turned back around upon hearing a chorus of greetings.
“Master Iltar!” the boys chimed.
“We did it!” Agen shouted. “We really did it!”
The boys stopped a few paces from Iltar, all smiling, all looking pleased with themselves.
“Is this your first time?” Iltar asked the boys.
“No,” Bilda shook his head. “This is like, uh, my sixth time, I think?”
“Third for me,” Agen said.
“Me too,” Tigan chimed.
“I see…” Iltar said.
Since encountering Cornar in Vabenack, Iltar had spent every day studying at the Hilinard, staying well after dark. Each morning after a night in Vabenack left him drained, worse than if he had spent the night intoxicated. So, instead of exploring the yellow-sky realm further, Iltar chose to rest.
“Well, I’m impressed,” Iltar said. “You’ve been able to access this place without the dream elixir.”
Bilda looked sheepish and the other boys averted their gazes.
Iltar drew his lips to a line. What are they hiding? he wondered. They couldn’t have accessed the elixir… Iltar had ordered Alanya’s guards to parcel out the rest of the elixir into bottles and put them under lock and key. There were enough bottles for Iltar, Pagus, the women, and Petral—one of Alanya’s guards—to last weeks.
Each evening, when Iltar retired to bed, he fetched a bottle and checked on how much was left. The women and the guard had drunk their shares, but Pagus hadn’t touched his allotment. Iltar assumed the boys weren’t trying to access Vabenack anymore. Most of his acolytes had been frightened when they met in Alanya’s dining hall, and Iltar had assumed they wouldn’t make another attempt.
Well, he was almost certainly wrong. “Did you use the elixir?” Iltar asked in a probing tone.
Bilda sighed and glanced to Pagus.
Iltar turned toward Pagus as the youth retorted, “I had the recipe.” The unrepentant acolyte stood looking at him smugly. “Did you think I wouldn’t just make another batch?”
Disappointment welled within Iltar, and he closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to lash out at Pagus.
<
br /> “They wanted to come here,” Pagus said. “I will not hold them back, like you do.”
“Hold them back?” Iltar blurted. “I’m protecting them!”
“And you don’t think I can protect them?” Pagus demanded. “Or that they can protect themselves? For magic’s sake, Master Iltar, we aren’t helpless children.”
“You don’t know the horrors of this place,” Iltar said sternly, then strode past Pagus. He didn’t have time to waste fighting with the boy.
Iltar knelt on a spot of ground. A shifting landscape passed through the ages beneath him. He touched his hand to the glass, focusing on putting his mind into that shifting landscape.
“It’s not gonna work,” Pagus said sardonically. “I tried it yesterday, and nothing.”
Quiet, Pagus… Iltar groaned to himself, pushing aside the boy’s remarks. He resumed his focus to manipulate this bizarre realm, reciting that long string of strange words, but nothing changed. The boys wandered off, leaving their master alone. They probably thought it best not to bother him, and they were right. However, the silence their absence afforded Iltar didn’t make a difference. He remained on his knees for hours, repeating those words over and over without any change.
What am I doing wrong? Iltar growled, then slammed a fist on the translucent ground. He half-expected the glass to crack, but there wasn’t as much as a blemish on the sleek surface.
“No luck, huh?” Pagus asked.
“No,” Iltar shook his head. “Maybe I’m doing something wrong.”
“Or you’re not saying it right,” Pagus grinned.
Iltar found that remark ironic. It was an obvious jab at their encounter in the master’s section of the Necrotic Order’s Record Hall, when Pagus and his friends were caught by Iltar. Iltar had corrected their pronunciation of a spell.
“You need a primer on that language,” Pagus said, pacing back and forth beside Iltar.
Iltar chuckled. “And what language is that?”
Pagus shrugged. “Well, what do we know about it?”
He’s being scholarly about this, Iltar thought. He felt impressed, but put the feeling aside.
