Built directly into the side of the mountain, the Dazhberg towered over the long valley as a symbol of strength and honor. It was rumored the construction materials themselves had come from mines that led deep into the earth. Those excavations provided the Knights with ample storage for supplies to outlast any siege as well as access to an underground river that doubled as an escape route through the mountain in the unlikely event the walls were breached. Those mines had been a source of gold and gems, supplying a rich treasury for the Gabirelian Knights, in addition to providing the stone needed to raise the walls of the Dazhberg.
Now, though, strange domed shelters filled the valley leading to the gate. They were unlike anything Sebastian had ever seen and from their vantage point, he could make out hooded figures moving in and out of the tents and guarding the trail. There was activity all around the camp, more than there should have been. “They are getting ready to invade,” said Krystelle.
“Who are they?” wondered Sebastian aloud.
Krystelle looked out over the besieging force, her jaw set into a vicious scowl. “It is the Krenon. They have never before dared to come against Gabirel. Not while the Sunstone was there in the Aodhan Bret, aiding in the defense of the Dazhberg. We have come too late.”
Sebastian shook his head, ignoring Cenric’s insistent tug at his sleeve, “Not after everything we’ve been through. It can’t be all for nothing! There has to be a way inside.”
“I do not see how,” said Krystelle. “The pathway is well guarded and there is no way to reach the gates other than that trail.”
“Perhaps if we waited until dark?”
She shook her head, “I am sure they will have the pathway lighted. And besides, there is no way the gate will open for us after nightfall.”
“I have an idea!” piped Cenric.
Both of them turned to the boy. They had gotten into the habit of tuning him out during the journey back to Dazhberg. He tended to chatter away and rarely found his way to a point to one of his stories. Krystelle Mora raised one eyebrow, “What did you have in mind Cenric?”
“I can cloak us so we can’t be seen. I learned it from Master Cormac. Although he never knew I figured it out. He would have been furious. He never liked when I…”
“Cenric!” Krystelle Mora stopped the boy. “Are you sure you can do it?”
He shook his head up and down, “I’m sure. I’ve done it lots of times. Its really easy. Easier than people think it is…”
“Cenric!” she stopped him again.
“It’ll work. I used it lots of times to sneak out of the inn and Master Jowan never saw me. I even used it on Master Cormac. I think he suspected but he never, ever caught me.”
“Yes, but those are Krenon. Who knows what they can do! They might feel the magic, or just see through the spell and then where will we be? Surely there is some other way.”
Krystelle Mora looked down over the valley and watched as the pitch of movement increased. She had seen that before. She made her decision. “Get ready to cast your spell, Cenric. They are getting ready to attempt the walls and without the Sunstone inside, the Dazhberg’s defenses will fall. It’s now or never.”
Cenric closed his eyes in concentration, muttering words Sebastian did not care to hear. His skin crawled as a wave of energy emanated out from the boy to settle on the three of them. Looking at the other two, he could not tell any difference and said as much to Cenric.
“That’s cause you’re inside the spell,” the boy explained. “You’re part of it so it doesn’t affect you.”
Not entirely satisfied, Sebastian did not see that he had much of a choice except to take what the boy said at face value. The three of them began to make their way down into the valley.
“When we arrive, allow me to declare myself.” Krystelle Mora reminded them for the fifth time that day. “We can only pray that the High Council will be able to rally forces strong enough to defeat them. You will not be permitted to remain armed inside the citadel until you are known. And remember, do not say a word about what happened with the Sunstone in council. My father is a member of the council and I want to get his advice first. He will know what to do.”
Approaching a rocky crag, they emerged into the view of the first Krenon encampment. Sebastian tightened his grip on his sword, ready to fight should their camouflage prove ineffective. One of the Krenon brothers glanced in their direction for a moment causing Sebastian to tense even further. The Krenon looked away and he started breathing again. The spell seemed to be working.
Nearing the gate, they could see that the stone doors were closed tight behind an outer portcullis. Sebastian understood why the gate was nicknamed “Jaws.” The entire barbican was constructed of red granite lined with white, for all the world looking like the mouth of some beast. With long sight-lines leading up the mountain, it was not possible to approach the Miltiades Gate unmarked.
A voice rang out in challenge, “Friend or foe? Who marches towards our gate?”
Krystelle responded according to the prescribed ritual, “Pilgrims seeking shelter from the long night.”
Not expecting allies to reach the gate with the Krenon watching over the road, the guard was silent for a long moment. Sebastian held his breath until the counter-phrase echoed back, “The long night ends with the dawn. Do you keep the peace?”
“By heart and soul, sword and bow we keep the peace. Does the Guard stand?”
“The Guard stands and Gabirel bids you welcome Pilgrim.” Ritual complete, the portcullis began to raise with a groan from within the walls. The gate steward came forward from the shadows, although Sebastian was certain that the remainder of the guard continued to keep a watch on them. “Will you grace us with the honor of your names?”
“These men are Sebastian of Taleros and Cenric of Aldmoor. By my father’s blood I am Krystelle Mora, Sword-master of Gabirel. I bring grave news for the High Council.”
“Sword-master Mora! We are pleased you’ve returned safely to the Dazhberg.” He made a precise bow, saluting her. “The High Council is meeting within the Aodhan Bret, you should hurry there. They will want to know your tidings. Your men may accompany you if you desire, but they must leave their weapons here at the gate.”
“Of course.”
Sebastian had protested the first time Krystelle told him that he would be required to surrender his sword at the barbican. He had not resisted nearly as much when she suggested they keep his use of the Sunstone secret for now. He did not want to think about it himself. Resigned to the constraint, he unbuckled his baldric and handed it over to the steward, along with his bow and quiver. Cenric promptly yielded the brace of daggers he carried, and a guard appeared to lead them to the council chamber.
#
Literally and figuratively, the Aodhan Bret sat at the very heart of the Dazhberg. A necklace of pillars supporting the domed ceiling encircled the vast chamber. Within the ring of pillars a set of five wide, but shallow circular stairs led down to the large stone ring table where the High Council met to deliberate. As they arrived in the chamber, Krystelle began running towards a stern looking man seated closest to the entrance. “Father!” Rising to hug her, the man lifted her off her feet and spun her around.
“We were worried when you did not arrive here from Aldmoor. I had my agents searching throughout the land for you until the Arch-mage Philon was able to locate you. It is good to see you safe my daughter. Although perhaps it would have been better had you stayed away.”
“I know, father. I must address the High Council.”
“Master Philon has told us much through his farsight, but it is best if we hear it from you.” Dimitri Mora turned to the council seated at the table, “My Lords, the Swordmaiden Krystelle Mora has news. I pray you would hear her.”
“Where to begin?” she mused. She proceeded to recount to the Council all that had happened over the preceding days, from meeting Sebastian by the river, to ambushing Heinrick Tornike. As they had agreed, she left out sev
eral key points, particularly around Sebastian’s use of the Sunstone. Her dissertation went on for some time, punctuated with questions from the Council. They asked for precise details of Tornike and Pwyll’s deaths, and for a time Sebastian was afraid they would ferret out his use of magic. From their scowls he did not think they liked what they were hearing.
“I had wondered at Adelwolf’s absence here,” said her father when her tale was finished. “Are you certain he is gone?” Krystelle nodded. “That is grave news indeed, and yet I sense there is more.”
“There is, father. Indeed the rest may be worse. In my travels I have become convinced that it was none other than Sterling Lex that was behind all Gerlach Pwyll’s machinations. Pwyll had mastery of magics that should have been far beyond him. Only Sterling Lex can have shown him how to tap into that kind of power.”
Krystelle’s words hung in the air, each councilor examining them in distaste. It was as if a venomous snake had appeared in their midst. The air was heavy for a long moment, before Dimitri broke the silence. “Are you sure it was him?”
“I am.”
High Councilor Ferdinand Damianus, seated to Dimitri’s right hand rose to his feet, pounding a fist on the table. “Preposterous! Sterling Lex was defeated in the Dragon Wars. He is gone and all his ilk with him. There is no sense in bringing out the bogeyman when we have a real threat right outside at our gates!”
An ancient figure on the far side of the table rose, “It is true Lex was defeated during the Wars. I do not have the sight to know if he can have returned or not, but there is a powerful foe at work in these dealings, that much is sure. Gerlach Pwyll would not have the strength to accomplish so much on his own. Young one, how can you be sure it was Sterling Lex?” Leaning on a long staff of dark cherrywood, the Arch-mage Philon exuded power and authority.
“Gerlach Pwyll said it was so and that Sterling Lex had granted him power.”
Not convinced, Damianus interjected, “If Sterling Lex was involved, then how did you escape?”
“Ah, a good question,” said the ancient figure.
“It was the Sunstone. The boy, Cenric, tapped into the power of the Sunstone. I know not how, but Pwyll was unable to take it from him.” She called Cenric forward. “My Lords, the most important piece of news is this…the Eligius Siothrun, the Sunstone, is returned to its home.” The boy held the stone high for them all to see.
“We are saved…” whispered Philon.
“Almost,” said Damianus. “The Sunstone’s true home is there in the east alcove. Lad?” He motioned to Cenric.
Lifting the Sunstone, Cenric stepped up to the recession and set it in its place. A gentle hum filled the Aodhan Bret and the alcove glowed with the soft light of the Eligius Siothrun.
“Now it is home,” said Philon. Pausing, he considered the three adventurers. After a long moment, “My Lords, we must continue to deliberate these matters and decide how to remove the infestation from before our gates. I urge us all to consider our options, few as they are. We have some luxury in our defense now the Eligius Siothrun is returned. Indeed, I imagine there is some consternation in their camp at just this moment. In the meanwhile, I beg your leave to address a matter of some importance to Uriasz.” The assembled Lords nodded in acquiescence, knowing what was to occur.
“Cenric Brice. Come forward!” The boy lurched forward, all eyes on him. “Young Master Brice, without the advice or consent of the High Wizards of Uriasz, Lord Adelwolf took it upon himself to arrange for you to receive instruction in the basic measures of our arts. Normally, that would be within his rights and authority as a member of this Council. In your case, there are other concerns that should have been addressed. Be that as it may, what is done is done. You have gone too far to turn back now. You are hereby entered as an Apprentice in the rolls of Uriasz.”
Cenric nodded, his eyes wide. “Yes Arch-mage Philon. I’m truly honored.”
“In the coming days you will learn from several of the masters of our order who have traveled here to the Dazhberg.”
“Am I not to be sent to the isles?”
“In time, you will join us in our retreat across the seas. I would you were sent there now, but the ships have been dispatched to recall the remnant of Uriasz in this time of crisis.”
“I understand,” said Cenric, head hanging. “Master Cormac often told me stories of the isles. I was looking forward to seeing them.”
Philon laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ll see the isles soon enough. Learning patience, you will find, is a discipline at the heart of being a wizard. Perhaps the most important one. Bah…I’m old and patience is something I find more difficult myself with each passing year.”
“If there is no other business?” said Lord Damianus, “I propose we adjourn the council at this time.”
“Agreed,” said Dmitri Mora.
Sebastian moved forward to the table. “Wait! M’ Lords, I would petition for admittance into the Order of Gabirel.” He had had many hours to discuss this with Krystelle during their journey to the fortress and he felt it was the best thing for him now.
Teoma looked him up and down. “And why should you be admitted to the ranks of the Squires?”
“In truth my Lord, Quiren Adelwolf taught me much in the time we traveled together. I am a warrior at heart and I have no wish to join the Dragon Guard or the King’s army. Sterling Lex has returned and I want to help fight him! I have nothing left but the fight. Besides, I did aid in the recovery of the Sunstone!”
Stroking his goatee, Teoma considered for a long moment. “We had not intended to take up this question in council. Are you sure you wish to lay this before us now?” Sebastian nodded. “Then, my Lords of the High Council, a petition has been made for admission to our Order. Our law states that such a petition must be voted upon. Lord Mora, what say you?”
“The boy has shown courage. Aye.”
“One vote for. Lord Damianus?”
“I am disquieted by all we have heard here today. He is impulsive and he has much to answer for with the deaths of Gerlach Pwyll and Heinrich Tornike. He should not be admitted. Nay.” Sebastian’s heart dropped.
“One for and one against. Lord Eoghan?”
“I stand with the High Councilor. Tornike yielded and this boy did not choose the path of honor. My vote is no.”
“One vote for admission and two against. One more vote against and the petitioner is barred entry. Lord Marcello what is your vote?”
“Eoghan’s reminder weighs as heavily on my mind as does the High Councilor’s disquiet over the boy. Yet I will not be ruled by what might be. I must listen to what my heart tells me and what I see in him. He has honor in him and he will learn restraint. I say yes, he should be admitted.”
“Two votes in favor and two against. It falls to me to cast the deciding vote,” said Teoma. “Had my brothers admitted or denied you outright, the question would be settled. You have natural skill with a blade and showed much courage. Yet, I have misgivings just as my fellows on this council.” Sebastian held his breath. “There is something dark in your heart that threatens to overwhelm you and I believe you must be given time to overcome that darkness. As Lord Commander I hold the one vote that can be delayed in a petition of admittance before the High Council. I choose to invoke that right. Your petition will be held in abeyance until such time…”
“But that’s not fair!”
“Hold your tongue lest I cast my vote now and forever bar you from admission!”
“My Lord….”
“Do not test me further boy. You are on the edge.” Sebastian clenched his fists tight and closed his eyes, managing to hold in his protest. “Good. You can learn restraint. As I was saying, your petition will be held in abeyance until such time as I can observe your conduct and make a final decision. That decision can come at any moment.”
“Yes, my Lord. But what am I to do in the meantime?”
“Hone your skill with a blade. Comport yourself with honor. Demons
trate to me with your words and your deeds that you should be allowed into our brotherhood.”
“What of my training? I know there is much for me still to learn.”
“Tradition holds you be placed in the charge of one who opposes your petition so that you will be measured against the highest of standards. Should it prove too difficult you may withdraw your petition and leave the Dazhberg forever. My Lord Eoghan, will you see to this petitioner and take him under your tutelage?”
The named councilor nodded in acknowledgment. “I will, Lord Commander.”
Damianus rose to his feet. “Then it is decided. Welcome to your new home Sebastian”
Moonstone
Book 2
Standing high high on the parapets of the Cinaeth, Sterling Lex looked out over the Loegaire Valley. During the Dragon Wars, that valley had been the site of his greatest defeat and, in his mind’s eye, he could still see the pincer charge of both the Dragon Guard and the Knights of Gabirel that had been the beginning of the end. It was only right that his assault on the Dazhberg, on those who denied him his rightful position as Arch-mage, would begin from this place.
In the years following the wars, the valley had healed and again become the fertile green plain that had earned it its name. Once again an army would occupy this place, trampling crops and pastures into hard packed earth. He reflected on how convenient it would be to appropriate the livestock and foodstuffs to supply his army and press the farmers and ranchers into service. Able bodied men armed and trained to a bare minimum as fodder for archers in any siege attempt. Older women and young children become cooks and servant. Young women given over to the troops to keep morale high.
It would be a far cry from any of the forces arrayed for the Dragon Wars. Those had been professional soldiers on all sides. These would be little better than rabble. Groups of warriors banded together and camped together as they arrived. Groups of tents and shelters scattered across the valley. A single charge from a professional army like the Dragon Guard would cause this horde to scatter to the winds.
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