Eligium- The Complete Series

by Jake Allen Coleman

“That small shift will create a storm far out to sea.”

  Cenric looked out toward the horizon, “But isn’t that dangerous.”

  The boy had a strong moral compass. That would have to be dealt with, or at least reoriented. A task for another day. “Not at all,” said Lex. “The storm will be far out to sea and this time of year there will be no ships to be caught up in it.”

  “Oh. Ok.”

  “I think that’s enough for today.” Lex led the boy back down from the tower to a chamber next to his own. “Cenric, it is time for you to move down from the tower. This will be your room going forward. I want you close to me if you have questions in your studies. Make yourself comfortable and resume your study of the stone. You must learn the rest of the name you heard.” Leaving him there, Lex returned to his study of the obsidian stone. Outside, he could feel the forces they had set in motion building up and sweeping out over the ocean to the small ship carrying Sebastian Pwyll and his companions.

  #

  Sebastian hadn’t moved far when Krystelle returned to the deck. Storming up to him, she pulled him as far forward, and away from the crew, as she could. “What were you thinking?” she growled in a low voice, “You could have killed us all!”

  “I…what? What are you talking about?”

  “Do I have to spell it out for you?” She gripped his arm, holding tight to be sure she had his attention. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t understand! Didn’t you hear what the Captain said about the fire?”

  Sebastian scratched his head in confusion. “He just said he didn’t see how the fire started. I don’t see how that has anything to do with me.”

  “You dolt!” It was all she could do not to cuff him on the back of his head like the raw recruit he was. “Did you not listen? He said the fire seemed to come from nothing. How can something just come from nothing?”

  “It can’t…” he paused, thinking. It came to him then, and he practically shouted, “Unless it was some kind of magic!”

  Krystelle grimaced and motioned for him to keep his voice down. “Of course it was magic. Quietly now, we can’t have the crew realizing it. Especially since Gerhard believes you caused it!”

  He gulped. “Me?”

  She released his arm. “Yes, you. You and your daydreaming!”

  “But I was just sitting there, I wasn’t doing anything, and I certainly didn’t cast any spell to start a fire. I wouldn’t know where to begin!”

  Heaving a sigh, Krystelle counseled herself to find patience. “Normal spell casters have to focus and chant and all the rest, but you never have, had you?” He shook his head in the negative. “I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out by now. All the breadcrumbs were there, you just had to follow them. Sebastian, you use Elven magic. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but there it is. I suspect that Gerhard doesn’t know either. That’s why you don’t have to cast spells. Magic comes instinctively to you and you bend the world around to your will through partnership and thought rather than through spells and mental focus. You don’t have to cast spells to do magic, you do magic because it's part of who you are. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this now, except that you have to be careful with your thoughts! A stray thought can wreak havoc and that’s almost what happened here.”

  Sebastian shook his head in denial. “I don’t understand how this can be. I could heal Cenric in Ha’vehl’on because of the Moonstone…and the same getting back into the Aodhan Bret. Even back at Cinaeth, it was all the stones, not me. If it were me, why wouldn’t Gerhard or Lord Darden have said something before now?”

  Exasperated, Krystelle paced across the deck. “Who knows why the wizards do what they do or say what they say. All I know is what I see. And what I see is that it is too dangerous to let you go about tapping into these forces, albeit unknowingly. I’m sure that’s why you’re here now on this boat rather than back at the Dazhberg where you belong, training. You must keep your thoughts under control from now on Sebastian. No more daydreaming!”

  She stormed back to the ladder, leaving Sebastian to marvel at what she had told him. It made a certain sense, and it answered a lot of questions Sebastian had tried to not to think about. In a world where magic was anathema by law, admitting to one’s self that not only could you use magic, but Elven magic, was not an easy prospect to consider. Perhaps the stories were true that his father, Gerlach Pwyll, had Elvish blood in his ancestry. Not that Sebastian could ask him. He had killed Pwyll in cold blood at Cinaeth before he knew the man was his father.

  Before he realized it, Sebastian was ruminating on that night so many months ago. He could still hear the ring of steel in the courtyard like it was yesterday. He could see the flaring of light from the Sunstone and the scent of freshly spilled blood filled his nostrils. He watched Pwyll’s body…he snapped himself back to reality before the vision could proceed further. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked about the deck to ground himself. Once again the crew was raising the sails and he could see that the Gull would be underway in minutes. A work gang swabbed the deck where the fire had raged, sweeping debris over the side.

  Making his way below deck, Sebastian realized that at least one good thing had come out of this day. He was not seasick anymore.

  The Gull’s crew spent the afternoon cleaning the deck and making repairs until the bos’n gave the order to return to stations and restore the watch. Additional repairs would have to wait for the facilities at Cale Uriasz. All hands had rallied to fight the fire and deal with the aftermath, and the night watch wearily manned their posts, trimming the sails to maintain a steady course through the long night ahead.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, the steady eastern winds that had been propelling the ship forward since their departure from Cale Conall fluttered away. Captain Cyrillus paused on his way to his quarters to evaluate the change in the winds, having left the ship to the first dog watch. Casting an experienced eye on the masthead fly, he didn’t like what he was seeing. The fly twirled about from a competing wind opposing their moderate eastern gale.

  He called out, “Bos’n! Flatten the sheets and clear the decks. We’ve a storm coming and it looks to be quite a blow.” With those orders, the bos’n moved into action, relaying them to the deck crew. Within moments, the sails were tightened up, and the crew moved to stow the remaining gear from the day’s efforts.

  As they worked, the wind finished shifting and began to build. The captain resumed his station near the wheel, taking his oilskin from the deckhand. “Turn her towards the wind,” he ordered the helmsman. Watching his ship react to the change in course, he could see it wouldn’t be enough to take the pressure off if the wind continued building. “Reef the mainsail!” he called out.

  The Gull’s crew was well-disciplined, and it didn’t take long for them to reduce the sail presented to this new wind. For a time, the storm leveled out and Cyrillus relaxed. There’d been no sign of a storm before the winds had shifted, so he thought perhaps this would blow over soon. Leaving the deck in the hands of the dog watch he went below, removing his slicker and making his way to the galley where he found a handful of the crew taking their repast.

  Ladling himself a bowl, he could see that Cook had outdone himself with the stew that day. With the smooth passage they’d had and knowing they were close to port he’d eased up on the rations the day before and Cook took full advantage. Chunks of meat and root vegetables floated in a rich broth. He spooned it into his mouth, savoring the array of flavors. “Cook! I don’t know how you do it. This stew is better than any I’ve had in port.”

  “Aye Captain, ‘tis an art to a good stew. Just don’t you go snooping into the larder to see what’s in my broth.”

  “Oh-ho! Do you hear that men? Cook would like to give orders to the captain. Maybe he should take a turn at the helm?”

  “Cook couldn’t steer his way across a muddy pond!” shouted one of the sailors. The others began catcalling and throwing jabs in the cook’s di
rection, suggesting various tasks on the ship he could muck up. While Cook’s skills in the galley were unparalleled, he was no sailor. It was only his magic in the kitchen that earned him a berth on the ship at all. Nevertheless, the crew loved him and loved harassing him about his lack of seamanship all the more.

  Cook put on an injured face, playing along with the good-natured ribbing. “You scurvy rats! Put you in the kitchen and see how well you do. Not that I’d let a one of you near enough even to scrub one of my good pots.” Captain Cyrillus smiled at the much-needed camaraderie; it had been a trying day, and the levity was good for the men. He went back to his stew, allowing the wave of banter to wash over him.

  Finishing his meal, he was just rising to return to his quarters when the deck tilted under him. Dishware went sliding across the galley as the Gull listed to starboard and the men grabbed hold of the table to steady themselves. “On deck,” he commanded the men. “That was a heavy swell, the storm must be getting worse.” Pulling his oilskin back on, he hurried to the deck, confident that the men from the galley would be close behind.

  A wave of briny seawater drenched him as Cyrillus emerged onto the deck. He grabbed the rail to keep from being washed overboard and took stock of the situation. In the few moments he had been enjoying his meal in the galley, the storm’s ferocity had increased tenfold. The high seas threatened to inundate the deck, and the crew had dropped the mainsail, replacing it with the try-sail. He’d not seen a storm build to this level of intensity so quickly in all his years at sea. The Gull was in trouble.

  #

  Upon reflection, Sebastian realized he might have been premature in celebrating his relief from the unending nausea that had plagued him since boarding the ship. Laying in his bunk in the cramped passenger quarters, he could feel the abrupt rising and falling of the Gull with the bucking waves. As bad as things had been until now, these conditions made all of that seem like a lazy day spent sailing on a calm mountain lake.

  In the bunk just across from Sebastian, Gerhard sorted through a small wooden trunk. Throughout the voyage, he had kept it locked and there was something in his air that brooked no questions about what it might contain. It was obviously important to the old wizard. He pulled an ebony statuette from the case, scrutinizing it, bushy white eyebrows dancing about. Dissatisfied, he grunted and tossed it to the side, rooting around in the trunk for the next item. He’d been doing that ever since rushing into the cabin after the ship had dropped, ushering in this incessant rising and falling.

  Out came a cobalt porcelain figurine in the shape of a dolphin. “There you are,” said the old wizard, sweeping the discarded items back into the case and pulling it shut. Gerhard waved hand at the case and its metal straps folded in, latching themselves while Gerhard studied the dolphin.

  Sebastian levered himself onto one arm, hoping to take his mind off the somersaults in his belly. “What is that?”

  Before Gerhard could respond, Krystelle burst into the cabin. Sebastian could see fear in her eyes, a sight he’d not seen before. “Lord Gerhard! I saw Captain Cyrillus go back onto the deck and he looked worried. I have known the man for many years and been on many voyages with him. I’ve never seen him look like that over a storm.”

  The old man closed his hand over the figurine and rose to face her, “I think he has cause to worry. This storm has an unnatural feel to it. I fear someone doesn’t want us to reach Cale Uriasz.”

  “Sterling Lex?” A chill came over Sebastian hearing Krystelle name the sorcerer. He could still remember a time when the name had meant nothing to him, and now it seemed his life revolved around Lex’s machinations and the quest to recover the two Eligium.

  “Most likely, my dear. Most likely.”

  Sebastian panicked inside a bit at that, “But how could he know where to send the storm? You said he wouldn’t be able to locate us over the ocean!”

  “I do not know for certain, but I can guess. Earlier when you tapped into that subconscious reservoir of power in your mind and started the fire on deck, it was like launching a Druenenn signal rocket for anyone who knew to look. Now, I must go help the crew battle this storm.” Dolphin figure in hand, Gerhard swept from the cabin, leaving Sebastian and Krystelle to absorb what he had said.

  Sebastian braced himself for another tirade from Krystelle on his accidental mis-use of magic. When it didn’t come, he looked over to where she sat, wringing her hands. She was really scared, he realized. He rallied himself, wanting to encourage her. He’d never seen her this shaken. “Look Krystelle, Gerhard and Captain Cyrillus will get us through this storm. Between the two of them I’m sure they can handle anything Sterling Lex can throw at the Grey Gull.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  He stood, one hand on his bunk for balance. “I do. I really do.” Releasing his grip, he lurched across the small space between bunks to drop next to her. “That being said, I think we should get your things from your quarters in case the ship takes on water.”

  She nodded and Sebastian pulled himself back to his feet, extending a hand toward her. They made their way to the door of the cabin and out into the passageway running down the centerline of the vessel. Working their way down the corridor, the two struggled to keep their feet as the deck moved about beneath them. Sebastian was keenly aware every time she bumped into him and tried to keep his mind focused on the task at hand.

  Sebastian’s feelings about Krystelle were not clear, even to himself. Even after weeks traveling together, he struggled to understand her and what she was thinking. She was beautiful, with her auburn hair and green eyes. She was also a fierce warrior, having earned a place among the Swordmasters.

  She had drawn him into all of this on a clear fall day when he had chosen to shirk his chores in favor of a fishing trip. Pursued by the dark wizard Gerlach Pwyll, Krystelle had pushed a packet of papers into his hands and sent him off to find Quiren Adelwolf, the late Swordmaster General of Gabirel. He had found Adelwolf and Pwyll had murdered Sebastian’s family trying to find him and the documents Krystelle passed to him. At the cost of Adelwolf’s they had stolen the Sunstone back from the Pwyll and Sebastian had killed the dark wizard in anger.

  Returning to the Dazhberg, the fortress of the Knights of Gabirel, Sebastian thought he had found a place to call home. However, they had not been there long when Krenon forces attacked and the two of them were dispatched with their friend and fledgling wizard, Cenric, on a new quest to bring the Moonstone back from the elven city of Ha’vehl’on. Before all was done, they had recovered the stone, but lost Cenric to one of Sterling Lex’s dark wizards. Now he found himself once again on an adventure with the woman. Not that he minded! He just hoped this storm would be the most exciting thing about their journey this time.

  It did not take long to collect Krystelle’s belongings and rain gear from her private quarters assigned. There was not much, she was used to traveling light. They had just reentered Sebastian’s cabin, which was closer to the stairwell leading to the deck when they heard a booming crash from above and heard the sound of water rushing into the ship.

  Sebastian guessed from the sound that the Gull would not survive long. He struggled with Krystelle against the onslaught of foamy seawater pouring down the ladder that led to their escape. If he had time to think he would not have been optimistic about their chances of survival in this storm. They shouldered their way onto the deck and a wall of water washed the two of them overboard into the roiling sea.

  Falling. Floating. Drowning. That was all Sebastian knew and felt before the whole world went dark. His consciousness wandered far while his body endured the ravages of the sea. How had he come here? Unfettered, his imagination took him back to those last frantic moments at the Dazhberg, in the Aodhan Bret. Cenric was gone, having been spirited away by Sterling Lex and the strength of the Gabirelian Knights was broken through Krenon treachery.

  He could see them all so clearly. High Councilor Damianus, the chain of his office sitting around his neck lik
e an anchor in the middle of their defeat. The Lord Commander Teoma, for once without his armor. Lord Marcello, his robes still sullied from his time in captivity. Darden and Gerhard trying to fill the role occupied for so many decades by Arch-mage Philon. Lord Dimitri Mora conspicuously absent.

  In his memory, a smoky light filled the Aodhan Bret. The circular table in the center of the chamber illuminated from either side by the two Eligium returned to their alcoves. The Sunstone to the east, and the moonstone to the west. There were two more alcoves, one to the north and one to the south, along with a pedestal in the heart of the room.

  “Our options are few,” declared Darden. “We must have at least three of the stones to begin the process of reversing the Ban.”

  “And we are sure the dwarves will not return the Eligius Muliach.” Gerhard continued.

  “What of the other two?” asked Damianus. “Perhaps the Heartstone can be found?”

  “We have considered this…” began Gerhard.

  “The other two stones are beyond our reach. At least the location of the Muliach is known,” continued Darden. "The Soulstone was given over to the Krenon and we have all paid the price for that concession.”

  “So if we cannot reverse the Ban without one of the other stones and we cannot get to any of them, what are you proposing?” asked Lord Marcello.

  “Gerhard will travel to Cale Uriasz to confer with the Council of Wizards,” said Darden.

  “I will take news of what has transpired here to the Council. They must be informed that two of the Eligium are back in the Aodhan Bret.”

  “And the other reason, my friend,” continued Darden. “With the death of Lord Philon, we must raise a new Arch-mage. Gerhard is one of the few living candidates.”

  Gerhard nodded, “Yes, it is true. The council may see fit to raise me to that rank. Regardless, if we are to stand against the growing threat posed by Sterling Lex, a new Arch-mage must be chosen and I must be there for the selection.”