Concordance

by Cameron Hayden

  She was also at least seven months pregnant, though this did not seem to slow her down one bit.

  When she saw Lord Aegyn, her eyes lit up.

  “Father!” she said, moving as fast as she could toward the old man. She planted a kiss on his wrinkled cheek. “Welcome back, stranger.”

  Aegyn returned her affection, before his expression turned quickly stern. “Lyra Termane,” he said as one berates a child. “Are you straining yourself?”

  Lyra smiled, and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Father. Somehow I think I can handle getting items from the storeroom without a warder’s help, thank you.”

  Magister Ross greeted Lyra. “Lord Aegyn is right, my queen. It’s not healthy for the baby. Your warders are more than happy to assist you.”

  “Please, if my father had it his way, I’d be bedridden for nine months with a full escort just to use the water closet. I tell you, I won’t have it.”

  Ross bowed slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” When she brought her head up, she gestured toward me. “This is Professor Caiden Rycroft of the Celosan Acamedria. We’ve brought him here, as requested.”

  Queen Lyra pulled off one thick woolen glove and set it on a nearby bench. She held out her ungloved hand, and for a moment, I could only stare at it, dumbly. I honestly wasn’t quite sure what she wanted me to do, and there was an awkward moment of silence between us.

  She nudged her hand forward, nodding. “Pleased to meet you, Professor. I’ve heard many fine things about you.”

  Did she mean to shake my hand? It seemed odd coming from a lady of such status, but then again, I wasn’t completely versed in the strange customs of the Endrans. I reached out and shook. She smiled in return, and patted the top of my hand with her glove.

  “At your service,” I said.

  “And I’m at yours,” Queen Lyra said. “Truly.” She glanced toward Ross and Aegyn. “I’m very happy to see you both, and we’ll catch up shortly, but would you mind terribly if I had a few moments with Professor Rycroft?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Ross said, turning to leave almost immediately.

  Lord Aegyn approached Lyra and hugged her again. “Please, for the sake of my poor old heart, be careful. I want to see my grandchild in one piece, if possible.”

  Queen Lyra sighed, as if this was the hundredth time this subject had been brought up. “I promise,” she said, just a hint of annoyance touching the edges of her voice. Even then, however, she had such a pleasant tone, it was almost imperceptible.

  Lord Aegyn left soon after, and the warders shut the door behind him. Almost immediately, Queen Lyra went back to the storeroom and pulled out a long, cylindrical piece of steel. She set it in a vise grip on one of her workstations, and began to tighten it.

  As I watched her prepare whatever it was she was working on, I couldn’t help but smile. “Queen Lyra Termane,” I mused.

  “That’s my name,” Lyra said impishly.

  “I must say, you’re not exactly what comes to my mind when I think of the Queen of Endra.”

  Lyra shrugged, and wiped some of the grease off her cheek. “Then maybe you need to broaden your mind a smidge. I was led to believe the Acamedria prided itself on being fairly egalitarian.”

  “Egalitarian? Perhaps,” I conceded. I sat across from her, watching her bend back a piece of sheet metal and drill holes in the edges. “What are you making?”

  “Well,” Lyra said, struggling a bit with a hand drill. “It was going to be a new ventilation attachment for my tiller engine.” She looked up at me, amused at my confused expression. I had no idea what she was talking about. “A tiller engine is a type of templary-powered motion device used in some small-scale magistry devices.”

  I made a face that expressed my continued perplexment. She laughed, and nodded. “Never you mind. We have so much more important things to discuss.”

  I nodded. “I agree. I only just learned that you’re the one who approved the Corelight Expedition.”

  “I am indeed. And a special thanks to Mr. Dennith Crissom, who’s been exceedingly generous in funding it,” Lyra said. “My husband was very wary about the whole venture, but it sounds terribly exciting to me. I wish I could go, quite frankly, but I can’t risk a long voyage. Going into labor a thousand feet underwater would be…”

  “Unwise?”

  “Unwise,” she echoed. “To put it mildly.”

  She set down her drill, and her expression changed abruptly, as if she’d just remembered something. “I heard what your people did to you.” She placed a hand on my arm. “I’m truly sorry about how you’ve suffered. If you haven’t been told already, I want you to know that you’re more than welcome to stay here in Endra Edûn as an honored guest.”

  “I have been, thank you,” I said. “And… thank you for caring. May I ask what exactly is your interest in the Corelight?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Lyra said. “Just go outside and look around at this city. The Arclight has allowed us to thrive like no other city on Arkos. I’ve visited other kingdoms, other cities. Some are well-off, but many live in squalor. With some lacking basic necessities, many thousands die every year to common diseases and healable afflictions. Famine is rampant in some of the far kingdoms. It’s a tragedy.”

  “It is,” I agreed. “But what does that have to do with the Corelight?”

  “Everything!” Lyra exclaimed. “It’s been my life’s work to make this city a refuge for all those hoping for a better life, but we can’t bring every soul on Arkos here, now can we? Moving the Arclight is not an option. It’s fixed in place. But, according to Magister Ross and some of the text we’ve been able to gather, the Corelight can be moved.

  “Imagine it,” she continued, “we could bring the healing and restorative powers of the Old Gods to cities and towns across Arkos. We could cure illnesses, restore famished land.” She tapped her forefinger on the table between us. “That is the future of the Magisterium. Of my Magisterium. Not just the betterment of Endra Edûn, but the betterment of the entire world.”

  I was a bit taken aback by the suggestion. Not just by what she was saying, but by the fact that she was right. I looked into her eyes, and saw the truth of it. She was firmly committed, and this was something near and dear to her heart.

  I was momentarily at a loss for words.

  “Well?” she said hopefully.

  “That’s… that’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard, Your Majesty.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” She smiled. “Imagine the good we could do. And, of course, you’d be given the credit you deserve. Maybe, in time, your people will see that what you did, you did for a good purpose.” Lyra finished screwing in bolts on the side of her sheet metal. “I’m telling you this, because I don’t want you to be discouraged by the trials ahead. You’re a part of something greater than yourself, greater than me, maybe even greater than the Magisterium. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, feeling my heart swell a little. “I think I do.”

  “I also… don’t want you to feel discouraged by Antherion’s reaction when you see him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Antherion does not agree with our plan to find the Corelight.” She said this as if she were drastically understating her point.

  “Why not?” I said, asking the obvious question.

  “He does not think disturbing Old God artifacts is wise.”

  “But he’ll still help us translate the journal, right?” I asked.

  Lyra nodded somberly. “He will. Though I had to command him to do so. Don’t look for welcome from him, but understand, no matter what he says, the Corelight Expedition will continue.”

  “I’ve never met a dragon before,” I said nervously. “When will I meet him?”

  “Immediately,” Lyra said. “Magister Ross will show you to the Conservatorium, where Antherion resides.”

  Lyra paused from her work, and took my hands into hers. “You carry my hopes with you, Professor. And the
hopes of many struggling people across Arkos. You must not fail.”

  I left my meeting with Queen Lyra feeling in much better spirits than when I’d entered, and much more confident about the journey ahead. She was an amazing woman, by any standards. I knew in that moment that I’d bring the Corelight back, one way or another.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Dragon’s Warning

  The Conservatorium WAS ON the fortieth floor of the Magisterium. Getting there was no simple task, even with Magister Ross as a guide. Pathways and corridors changed frequently, enormous cogs and gears blocked entire sections at seemingly random intervals, and the general motion of it all was highly disorienting.

  However, it didn’t seem to bother Ross, who, though obviously annoyed by my frequent stopping, was outwardly very patient. While I pulled myself over an enormous brass pipe and shimmied down a rail ladder, I tried to make small talk.

  “Queen Lyra is very impressive,” I said, wedging my foot out of a crevice and stumbling clumsily to walk beside Ross.

  “That she is,” Ross mused. Her attention seemed to be somewhere else, though her body seemed to move automatically—she sidestepped several obstructions without missing a beat.

  “I’m surprised the Sun King allows her to work while she’s with child.”

  “Allows?” Ross gave me an amused look. “The Old Gods themselves couldn’t pull Queen Lyra away from her work. She was a magister before she was a queen, mind you. Magistry is her first love, so to speak.”

  We stopped at the end of the hall, in front of a triangular stone door which opened at Magister Ross’s touch. Once fully opened, I had to stare at it for several seconds to wrap my mind around what I was seeing. On the other side of the doorway appeared to be an enormous forest wilderness, framed by snow-capped mountains and a dim, moonlit sky. I quickly glanced back at the stone and metal hallway behind me.

  I looked to Magister Ross, at a momentary loss for words. “What… what is it?”

  Ross put her hand through the doorway. “This is the Conservatorium, often called “the Cons.” It was built by the Old Gods and the Dragonkin, and is quite possibly the oldest room in the Magisterium. It’s a complex amalgamation of magistry and illusion, though I’d be lying if I said I truly understand how it all works. There’s some magical trickery at work, the room itself isn’t actually the size it appears to be, but it is structured in such a way that you won’t reach the ends.”

  I approached the doorway slowly, extending my arm as I neared. When I was an arm’s length away, I could actually feel the night breeze against my skin, and smell the oak and ash of the forest on the other side. Even some of the pollen reached my face, and I wiped it away reflexively.

  “You needn’t worry, Professor, it’s quite safe. Save your fear for Antherion, he’s expecting you.”

  I stepped into the Conservatorium, leaves crunching under my shoes. When I was fully inside, I looked up at the endless, starry sky, and took in a deep breath of mountain air. I’d seen a great deal of fantastic sights recently, but this was the first truly magical experience I’d ever had. In many ways, it defied explication—you just have to experience it to understand.

  “Follow the road, and you’re sure to find him,” Ross said, pointing at a rough, frequently traveled stretch of dirt that cut through the forest.

  “You’re not coming with me?” I asked.

  “My presence would only antagonize him,” she said. “And once a dragon is upset, calming them down can sometimes lead to a lot of burns and broken bones.”

  I got the distinct impression that she was trying to rile me up, and didn’t take the bait. Nevertheless, I felt a bit uneasy. I was about to meet a true-to-life, fire-breathing dragon. To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century. I could feel my body trembling, and tried to steel myself against my own fear.

  Ross shut the door behind me, and the opening disappeared into thin air. As I did not know how to make it reappear, I was quite literally trapped. Not having much of a choice, I took a deep breath, and began my trek through the forest.

  It was nighttime, but between the unnaturally bright moon and stars, I could see fairly well. Ross claimed the room was crafted with illusions, but I have to say the myriad of bugs and prickling branches scratching at my arms felt completely real. So did the pollen, which had already begun to aggravate my sinuses.

  Along the dirt road, I noticed a great many herbs and shrubs that were clearly planted with some intent. Most bore small signs near them with their name, and a few (sometimes bizarre) instructions as to their upkeep, such as:

  Lilum Asteri (Starlight Lilly)

  Soak in moonlight for two hours before picking.

  Dionaea Rantris (Razorstem)

  Carnivorous. Keep away from small animals.

  Cereus Eccelia (Lakebed Cactus)

  Medicinal. Repot into dry, desert sand before flowering begins.

  There were plants for herbs, topical ointments, medicines, inks, and a hundred other uses. The magisters must’ve used this room as a greenhouse.

  After several minutes of walking, and no end in sight, I finally built up the courage to speak.

  “Mr. Antherion?” I said, my voice sounding weak and hoarse. Though, in the total silence, even this seemed to carry far. “Are you there?”

  There was a ruffle in the trees, but no response except the chirping of crickets. I repeated myself, somewhat louder, and listened, staring out into the dark patches of the forest where the light didn’t reach. There was movement in the leaves, and I saw the faintest figure looming in the darkness. I couldn’t make out exactly where it began and where it ended, but whatever it was, it was enormous.

  Suddenly I saw two yellow eyes peering out at me from the trees. Fear took me, and my first instinct was to run. However, my legs were stiff as boards, and I couldn’t bring myself to move in any direction. My mouth went dry, my muscles clenched. It was as if an ocean of water had been dropped on me. I felt utterly helpless.

  A long moment passed in silence as the eyes looked me over. Somehow, I found the strength to speak.

  “Antherion?” I squeaked. There was no answer, but a huff of air came from nearby as if the creature had exhaled hard. I decided to try for politeness. Dragons, after all, were highly intelligent creatures, not beasts. My fear was an embarrassment. Still, knowing your fear is irrational does little to help stop it.

  I took a step forward, extending my hand as if to shake his. It took exactly one half of a second to realize how stupid this was, and I yanked it back, tucking it under my arm.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said. I could feel my knees shaking. “My name is Professor Ry—”

  For the first time, Antherion spoke. “I know who you are.” His soft, dry voice seemed to be coming from all around me. There was a hint of anger and frustration in his tone.

  “Of c-course,” I stammered. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You certainly do mean to disturb me. You know why you’re here, and how I feel about the matter, yet you’ve come anyway.”

  I didn’t back down. “You’re right. I do mean to disturb you, good sir, but I apologize nonetheless. And I won’t insult you by tiptoeing around my purpose.”

  Without taking my eyes off of Antherion’s shadowy form, I reached into my satchel and retrieved the dragon journal.

  “As you may or may not know, this journal was found aboard the wreckage of an ancient Shian warship, the Shao Zhu. I need you to translate the Draconic text. Can you do that for me?”

  The dragon huffed again, but before he spoke, I corrected myself. “Will you do that for me?”

  Antherion’s head moved closer, a row of bright white teeth shining in the moonlight. It was hard to tell, but he seemed amused. Now that he was closer, I could see just what a magnificent creature he was. As tall as a granary, and so long that I couldn’t see the tip of h
is tail. He had smooth, amber scales covering his body, and glassy spikes running down his back. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if he were afraid of breaking something.

  There was something in his eyes that I’m not sure I can adequately explain. Let me put it this way: if you look into the eyes of a mindless beast, you see exactly what you’d expect to see. Mindlessness. In fact, I often find that very same phenomenon in some humans. But there was an intensity to Antherion’s stare that had nothing to do with my intimidation at his size. He had the fiery eyes of a scholar, and was beautiful in a wild, terrifying way.

  His face moved mere inches away from mine, and he leered at me. “I could. Though doing so would be a death sentence for you and anyone who accompanied you. Vor’aj is not a place for the living.”

  “I understand the risks,” I said.

  “If you truly do, then you’re an even bigger fool than I took you for. I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of nations. The birth and extinction of whole species. Before the first human walked on Arkos, I was here. Even I would not venture into Vor’aj. There are forces at work there that simply don’t exist elsewhere...”

  “You know something?” I asked curiously.

  “I’ve heard stories. In and around Vor’aj and Azror’jir there are rifts… cracks in the reach between worlds, and from them, horrors and phantoms of the Void seep through into our plane. It is a place even dragons dare not step. And should you somehow manage to brave it all, your end goal is folly. The Corelight cannot be removed from its resting place.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You could no sooner remove your own heart from your chest. The Corelight is the beating heart of Arkos. It is an order of magnitude higher than any power the Magisterium has ever dealt with—including the Arclight. It is a fundamental, primordial magic from the Age of Nuruthil. Of course, I’ve said all of this to Amelia Ross. To Imperator Briggs. To the Sun King himself. None will listen. Based on that, I presumed you wouldn’t as well.”