by Jaxon Reed
Chapter 8
The royal retinue stopped at the entrance to Port Osmo’s quarry. Pudge and Dudge allowed Dally to exit the carriage first. Dudge had to admit, on the way out the door, that traveling in the lap of luxury seemed very nice indeed.
“Ye coulda ha’ one o’ these, brother,” Pudge said. “Mayhap I kin sen’ y’ one like i’ when we gets back t’ Ore Stad.”
Dudge smiled and waved off the notion. “I be nay so importan’. Le’ th’ Crown Prince gi’ th’ treasury trouble. Nay me.”
Pudge laughed and said, “I’ woul’ be th’ Crown Prince requestin’ i’, y’ lousy sod.”
Dudge changed the subject.
“’Ere, Dally. Le’ me lad carry th’ parasol fer ye. I’ be a yuman thing fer rain, bu’ i’ works good fer sun as well.”
The princess smiled her appreciation as one of the townsfolk accompanying the group hurried over with a cloth manmade contraption and held it above her, casting welcome shade.
They began their descent down into the quarry surrounded by Pudge’s guards. A handful of Dudge’s people were in the group, suitably impressed by all the military discipline on display. But most were happy to let the Crown Prince’s dwarves comprise the group’s majority. Few had a desire to see Lok’s tomb. The entire area in and around the quarry was considered cursed, and locals had little inclination to visit without reason.
In due course they came to the appropriate entrance, a drainage shaft with Clan Slag’s crest marking it. The three town guards Dudge had left there to keep out curious children or the stray adult willing to risk the “curse” greeted them heartily, then stepped quickly aside.
Half the Ore Stad guards entered first as a vanguard, followed by the royals then the remainder of the party. By this time Pudge and his bride appeared winded, unused to so much exertion. But they gamely carried on.
When they came into the giant cavern, Dudge took the lead. Everyone stared up at the huge metal door with the image of Lok carved into it. Lanterns and glowstones valiantly attempted to fill up the large space and drown out the oppressive darkness.
Pudge blew a breath that puffed his whiskers out. He said, “’Ow many died tryin’ t’ get in?”
Dudge shrugged. He said, “Too many.”
“An’ do ye propose t’ keep tryin’? T’ get in, I mean.”
“Rak’s lads tried t’ go roun’ th’ door, an’ died. We kinna open th’ front. We kinna go in th’ side. This be beyon’ our ken.”
“So, yer jus’ gonna leave i’ be?”
Dudge shook his head. He said, “I sent a message t’ th’ Wizard Greystone. ’E may ken wha’ t’ do.”
“A yuman wizard? This dinna be a good idea, brother. Ye shoulda asked th’ Council fer advice.”
Dudge shrugged again. “I be in charge until th’ Council says otherwise. I dinna ask th’ Council ’boot e’ery li’l thing, like wha’ I shoul’ eat fer supper each night. Y’ ken ’ow i’ works in th’ provinces. We be on our own oot ’ere.”
“I dinna like it. This be a dwarf thing, nay a yuman thing.”
“This be a wizard thing. An we ha’ nay wizards in Ore Stad a’ th’ moment. Th’ invitation be long gone, Pudge. Greystone be comin’ t’ look a’ this.”
-+-
The sun marked high noon as the town crier ascended the steps of Refugio’s Hall of Commerce, dressed in a ceremonial black robe. Hundreds of people crowded the street below, bringing traffic to a standstill. Several more threw open windows in nearby buildings, and those who could crowded the steps for better positions to see and hear.
Casting a spell of amplification, the crier rang a hand bell he carried, and those closest to him held their ears and smiled.
A baby in the crowd started crying, eliciting an “Awww!” from several people. His mother hurried to hold him tight and soothe away the fright.
“Hear ye, hear ye! I bring word from north, east, west, and south!”
The crier began with royal pronouncements from distant Coral City. Most of these involved the impending marriage of Princess Margwen to King Trant in the even more distant Kathar. Then he shifted to official announcements directly concerning the Ageless Isles. He included recent ships that had debarked from Refugio’s port, those departing soon and those recently arrived.
He moved to items of local concern on his list and finally to personal announcements, for which anyone paying a few coppers could have him read out.
Bartimo smiled nervously at Phanissa. It was customary for the groom to pay for the announcement, and he had handed over the fee an hour ago. She smiled back at him. So did her mother Ermina and nanny Hassetta who accompanied them, maintaining a watchful eye on the couple. Her father paid no attention to this silent exchange, instead listening to the local news with interest.
At long last, the crier reached the bottom of his parchment and came to Bartimo’s recently added message.
“‘It is with great joy after all due consideration that Bartimo, a commercial man from Refugio, has requested the hand in marriage of the lovely Phanissa from her father Finero. Finero and his wife Ermina welcome Bartimo into their House and look forward to many successful ventures in the future until such time Bartimo and Phanissa can establish a House of their own!’”
A horrified scream came from the far side of the crowd. Everybody looked, those in the back stretching their necks, only to see Tisha run down the street in tears.
Across the distance, Leddia stared back at the Finero family, picking out Bartimo among them. She gave him a look of pure hatred then swept away, turning her back on everybody as she hurried after her daughter.
Bartimo shrugged apologetically as those nearby glanced toward him.
He said, “I didn’t tell her.”
-+-
Trant and Greystone sat in the king’s chambers off the throne room. Margwen attended to preparations for the wedding feast. As customary, food would be offered at the palace for the nobility, and throughout the city for anyone wishing to partake in the celebrations.
Trant had issued a royal decree declaring a holiday two days hence. The wedding would take place in the cathedral in the morning. Guests, ambassadors, and members of the nobility would then go to the palace for a massive feast. Tables would be set up outside the castle and in other parts of the city to feed anyone else showing up.
Planning the meal and obtaining the food proved to be quite the undertaking. Current shortages due to Endrick’s over-taxation and loss of labor in the Battle of Greystone Village meant Trant had to rely on his soon to be father-in-law for supplies. The Coral Kingdom was up to the challenge, though, intent on making their princess’s special day a memorable one.
Calves, deer, pigs, ducks, goats, and all kinds of smaller game birds were brought into Kathar overland from Coral City. Seafood too, for which Coral was well known. It would not be fresh, but was pickled and well-preserved. Casks of ale, cases of wine bottles, wheels of cheese, sacks of flour, bushels of grain, and other foods were all trucked in via caravans hired for the task.
Margwen had the castle staff working overtime sorting, storing, and preparing copious quantities of food. Expensive cuts of meat and the finer wines were to remain in the palace while less expensive items were slated to be distributed throughout the city. Margwen and the people she rounded up to help worked almost from the moment they woke up each morning until late in the evening every day.
Trant had hardly seen her. Briefly she had appeared in the chambers yesterday requesting he pay the sum for letting a warehouse to store additional food going out to the public pavilions. She complained there was no more storage space left in the castle. Even the dungeon corridors and empty cells were piled high with supplies.
He wrote a personal note to the treasurer, stamped it with his signet and handed it to her.
He said, “Take whatever you need. Within reason, of course.”
She smiled at him, and took the scrip. That was the last he had seen of her.
The doorman interrupted his thoughts with a soft knock. He stuck his head in, showing closely cropped black hair and an aquiline nose. This doorman was Coralian, on loan from King Keel’s court. The man was proving quite valuable. Privately, Trant hoped the man would remain in Kathar after the wedding, and not join the many caravans that would be heading back to Coral City soon.
“Begging your pardon, Majesty, but you have a visitor.”
Trant smiled, but he felt surprised and not in a good way. This marked the first time the servant had acted against his wishes.
He said, “I told you this is not the time for petitioners, Emmit.”
“Indeed, sire. However, this gentleman is particularly persuasive. He insists he must share some important information with you concerning the wedding.”
Emmit cleared his throat nervously before continuing. He too knew the interruption was out of bounds, but he pressed on.
“He also said to mention he fought beside you at Greystone Village.”
Trant’s smile grew wider, despite himself. He turned to the wizard and said, “Now, how can I turn down that kind of request?”
Greystone said, “Indeed. Perhaps you should hear what the man has to say.”
“Very well. Send him in, Emmit.”
The doorman closed the door for a moment, then opened it again letting a well-dressed man in the room. His face was not particularly outstanding in any way. Nor was he exceptionally tall or short, skinny or fat. While not ugly, he wasn’t so handsome as to be striking. He had the look of someone who could blend in anywhere, in practically any kingdom.
Emmit said, “Presenting Stin of Coral, Your Majesty.”
Stin’s eyes grew slightly wider at the sight of Greystone, whose presence he had not expected. Other than that, he gave no further indications of surprise. He bowed deeply, and went down on one knee before Trant. The king made a gesture of acceptance and he stood again.
Trant said, “Welcome, Stin. I understand you have news concerning my upcoming wedding ceremony.”
“That is correct, Your Majesty.”
Stin’s eyes drifted over to the wizard again, who stared at him with a bemused expression.
Greystone said, “Forgive me for my ignorance Master Stin, but I did not know we had assistance from Corsairs Cove in that battle.”
The blood in Stin’s veins grew cold as the memory of pirates hanging off a swinging boom flooded his mind’s eye.
He said, “I was one of the few survivors of an attack on a pirate ship by the Coral Navy not long ago. In his dying breath, the captain of that ship made me captain. I have not actually sailed a vessel of my own, unless you count the one that sank moments after I obtained the key. I was captured after the sinking.”
Realization flooded Trant’s face. He said, “We were there that day. How did you make it out of that mess alive? I thought all the pirates were strung up on the spot.”
Stin grinned. He considered denying he was a pirate, but that seemed clearly contradictory to the facts. Instead he said, “I was recruited by some old friends to find a certain dagger I had stolen earlier.”
“Ah!” Greystone said. “Let’s see. You are a protégé of Syphon, the master thief residing in Coral’s dungeon. I presume the Thieves’ League pulled some strings to save you from the gallows.”
Stin nodded, duly impressed. The wizard knew a lot. On second thought, Stin considered, that should not be surprising. He was a wizard, after all.
Greystone said, “I can sense the Gloomis Key on you, but do you know I have never actually seen one before? Would you be so kind?”
Stin acquiesced. He reached into his tunic and pulled out the key. It dangled from a chain around his neck.
Greystone stepped around the table and took a closer look, stooping down as he neared.
“Fascinating. They were created by my predecessor, you know. The original Greystone. He and Gloomis were in love with the same woman. Greystone hit upon the idea of giving Gloomis a great gift, setting up Corsairs Cove so that he had a virtually impregnable base of operations. And that, he hoped, would get Gloomis out of the picture, leaving Greystone free to pursue the woman.
“What he failed to consider was a life of piracy proved exceedingly attractive to the love interest. She joined Gloomis at Corsairs Cove and married the pirate king. Frankly I think she also didn’t cherish the thought of growing old while her wizard husband remained young. She picked the man with a normal lifespan.”
Greystone peered closer at the key. He said, “It is said they cannot be lost. If the bearer dies before transferring ownership, they reappear on the hand of Gloomis’s statue in the town square.”
Greystone looked up at Stin and said, “Let’s test that out! Toss the key out the window there. Uh, if you are willing, of course.”
Stin chuckled and said, “It’s been taken from me more than once, and indeed it always comes back.”
He took the chain off his neck. The king and the wizard watched him toss the key casually out the window. They turned back to Stin, and observed as the key reappeared around his neck.
“Fascinating,” Greystone said.
“That’s a good spell,” Trant said. “Very handy.”
Greystone said, “It’s not just that it’s a good spell, although it certainly is. It’s that the object imbued with the spell is still working after so much time. Furthermore, it’s transferrable from one pirate captain to the next. How often must that happen? Surely the life of a pirate can’t be very long. Over the centuries it must have been transferred dozens of times at least. The complexities of the magic involved is astonishing. The first wizards were truly remarkable.”
Greystone thanked Stin and returned to the other side of the table.
Sitting back down, he said, “So, to the issue at hand, Trant. It would appear our guest here knows something of the plans to spoil your wedding.”
Trant nodded. “What news have you, Stin? Have a seat and tell us.”
Stin pulled out a chair and sat down. He said, “Have either of you ever heard of something called the Shadow Council?”
-+-
Redstone walked through, stepping from the hazy yellow globe spinning lazily in the library of Oldstone’s floating castle.
Loadstone came in shortly after, indicating they probably ported from the same place. That should not be surprising, Darkstone thought. The two were close friends, rivaling Oldstone and Greystone’s relationship.
Darkstone had no such friends. She wondered if she would ever develop one over the centuries ahead. Mist’s final test left little doubt of what the future held in store. Everyone she knew and loved would pass away while the stone she now claimed slowed her aging process considerably.
The two new arrivals smiled brightly at her. She stood beside Oldstone holding her staff with the strange rock mounted at the end. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat, sending magical black light flickering across her face and chest.
Redstone, grounded as he was in nature magic, seemed to personify the short and stout features one might find in a dwarf. Darkstone knew his lair was supposedly a cave hidden somewhere in the mountains. Loadstone, on the other hand, stood tall and thin. His dark skin marked a sharp contrast to his shorter friend’s ruddy features.
They pulled out chairs and sat down at the table.
Redstone said, “Congratulations!”
Loadstone nodded in agreement and said, “We are very happy for you, my dear. You are the most powerful wizard in generations. I’m curious the effect the darkstone has on your abilities now that you have claimed it. Each one of us gains different things from our namesakes but I suspect you are undergoing something far different than the rest of us, especially considering the nature of your stone.”
“The nature of it? What do you mean?”
Loadstone smiled and said, “Well, you see . . . all the others are found within our world. True, some are not ‘stones’ per se. The silverstone and the goldstone are more metal. Chunks of ore, really
. Regardless, each stone carries the finest magical properties of its respective element.
“But the darkstone . . . the darkstone is not of this world. Much like the Forlorn Dagger it came here via a fallen star but longer ago, in the earliest days of Creation. You are the fourth wizard to possess it. We know very little about the original Wizard Darkstone. The second joined Lok and was killed with him at the Battle of Hest. The third, of whom you are familiar, was a talented young mage who was able to pass the trials shortly after that terrible day. We had need of many replacements back then with all who died fighting Lok.
“Now we have something of an opportunity to learn how this, our most mysterious wizard stone, works upon an individual of profound talent.”
Darkstone looked at her staff and thought about it carefully before answering.
She said, “It seems to enhance things. I’m feeling raw power in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s not limitless, of course, but the boundaries of what I can do seem to be extended in ways I haven’t thought of before.
“In a way . . . I don’t feel evil, really . . . but I can see how the previous Darkstones would be attracted to evil. There’s so much I can do with this power for myself. I sense that I can hurt and kill in ways that would be difficult for anyone to stop. Even with all of you arrayed against me, I think I would win in a pitched battle. I could grab an entire kingdom by force and make everyone bow down to me . . . I could make people fear me, and honor me, and serve me . . .”
The men watched her carefully as she struggled to put the feelings of power coursing through her veins into words. She snapped out of her reveries and smiled back at them.
She said, “But of course, that would be pointless. People wouldn’t love me for being in control. They would fear me, maybe even respect me . . . but they would also hate me. I understand though, why my predecessor chose a puppet for a king. It’s like a man who doesn’t own any gold himself, but can control how the gold is spent. The real power is in telling others with power what to do. Does that make sense?”
