The Isle of Mists: An Epic Mage Fantasy Adventure (Legend of Ecta Mastrino Book 3)

by BJ Hanlon

  Everything began spinning in his mind. Diophin said the isles were in his grasp, that Resholt and Dunbilston were coming together. He’d destroyed their protection, set the isles in a state of civil war… they were unprotected, vulnerable and soon to be under an attack.

  “What’s wrong?” Arianne said.

  Edin realized he was frowning. He glanced at her, then at Laural. Did he warn them? If he didn’t it would be just like joining the Inquisitor. Maybe Berka would go free… He and Arianne, if she still wanted to would be able to live their lives in peace…

  “Nothing is wrong…” Edin whispered, “I just need rest.”

  Arianne nodded, she held a soft look and pulled out the blanket to slip beneath.

  “Alone.”

  Arianne seemed to hesitate and then she looked away, he could see tears beginning to take shape. She stood and sweeping across the room, flew out the door and Edin heard her footsteps pounding down wooden stairs.

  “She cares for you…”

  “Can you be certain?” Said Edin as he laid back and closed his eyes. He heard the door close. There was fighting, maybe a war outside, another on its way, and he was here, laying down like a child. He wanted nothing to do with this fight, these people. Pharont, Diophin, the gentry… they were power hungry.

  Arianne was the same.

  Edin couldn’t sleep, he sat up fifteen minutes later and began to peel off his bandage. His body, scared and pasty. There was a burn mark, about the size of his palm seared into his left pec. It was bright red above his heart. He got out of bed and found a set of clothes in a chest and at the bottom, was his sword. Edin pulled it from the sheath and laid it across his legs.

  He reached up for the nonexistent crillio fang and patted his chest where it had sat for months. Edin had nothing left from his previous life but his memories. Too many good mixed with the bad. Too much joy with a book end of sorrow.

  The book isn’t over, not yet, but how many more chapters would there be? How many more people would have to die…

  He went downstairs, the house wasn’t exactly in top shape, dust covered a few paintings, though others looked as though they’d been recently wiped with a damp cloth. He’d definitely stayed in worse places.

  Edin didn’t recognize any of the people in the paintings, not that he expected he would. There was a short hall where the stairs turned back on themselves and continued downward. He followed them, passing closed doors and open ones. Nothing stood out.

  The windows had been boarded and covered in a thin curtain of purple velvet.

  At the bottom, or what he assumed was the bottom voices came from behind a closed door. Edin pulled it open slowly.

  Placisus stood from the end of a long table. He was the only one looking toward Edin. He straightened up and the others stood. He saw Belo, Laural, Caesum, Nan and a few more he didn’t know dressed in soldiers’ uniforms and one in a fine clothing.

  “Hello,” Edin said, he felt the eyes of everyone in the room staring at him as if he were making grand, expected entrance. The tension in the room felt thick like a steamy mist in dense valley. For some reason, an old joke came to him, one he’d used on his schoolmaster years before to cut the tension for being late.

  “This isn’t where I left my donkey.”

  A smile came over Placisus, he chuckled, then a couple more joined, the soldiers first, then Belo whose laugh overpowered all of theirs.

  “No time for laughs boy,” Caesum said, though the corners of her lips were upturned just slightly.

  “She’s right,” Placisus said trying to stifle whatever else was going to come up. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine… what’s happening? There is fighting?”

  They looked toward Laural, “he’s fine to hear this.”

  “Right, yes there is fighting… quite a bit of it. Luckily, we have many healers so not many casualties… not yet.”

  More people had died for him. Edin clenched his fist.

  “We’re stuck in the southwestern quadrant, cut off from all but the sea. Pharont’s brosons and militia have us pinned back with the beach as our only escape.”

  “And no ships…” one of the soldiers added.

  Placisus shook his head, “there are civilians all around, some support us, others Pharont. I’m sure someone has already told on us and his men know exactly where we are.”

  Edin said, “I’m no strategist… but that doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not… we have a good group of men, my soldiers mostly and a few civilians, maybe a quarter of the magi but he’s been building his powerbase for years and now he’s using it.”

  “He wants you lad…” Laural said. “And a few of us too, take our heads I’m guessing.”

  “We have till tomorrow to turn you over or they’ll overrun our barricades and attack.”

  One of the soldiers kicked out a chair toward Edin, it skidded and stopped barely an inch from his knee.

  He adjusted his sword and peered at them. “Then you have no choice, right?”

  “There’s always a choice… it’s not just about you,” Laural said. “Pharont is trying to declare himself king… using our Arianne for it. He wants to rekindle the old empire and usher in a new age of magi rule.”

  “Doesn’t sound so bad…” One of the soldiers said.

  “On the face of it, no…” Placisus grunted, “but he believes in rule by force… he is the strongest Instorios in generations. You saw how Mersett collapsed under his power.”

  “And Edin should’ve died… speaking of how…”

  Edin shook his head. “I don’t know…”

  “He’s the Ecta Mastrino,” Laural said. “He’s stopped the mists and heard the prophecy...”

  Edin reached for a glass and took a drink. It was frothy and the bubbles popped on his mustache. He tilted it up, more for the time to think then the ale. He heard the door open behind him with following footsteps.

  “He has three of the talents…” Arianne’s voice said as she took a seat as far from him as possible. “And I’ve seen him move like a terrin.”

  When he put the mug down, the little council was staring at him.

  “Is this true, I thought you had two…” Placisus said.

  “I think…” Edin said, he remembered feeling something when he was in that cavern, when the stone had been pressed into his hand. “Four…” Edin whispered, he lowered his gaze to the table. At the center was a pitcher filled with what he hoped was more ale. He summoned a small burst of wind that pushed it toward him.

  “A gusoria?” Arianne exclaimed. “Since when?”

  “The cavern.” Edin spoke of the assault and the vision with Edin Harlscot. “The diamond he shoved in my hand… it was a Ballast Stone.”

  “Shimmer,” Arianne said, she pulled the other two out from the tunic and let them hang. “Where is it?”

  They looked to Placisus. “It wasn’t my people that found him,” he said raising his hands, “it was Pharont’s. We were guarding Belo’s party.”

  “This doesn’t help our situation… even if he is the Ecta Mastrino, Pharont would never cede power to him,” Belo said.

  “I don’t want power…”

  Laural chuckled slightly. “And that’s why you need to hold it.”

  Edin wondered what Arianne looked like at that moment.

  “We will need your strength to save us from Pharont… and what comes next.” Laural said.

  “An invasion from a mundane army?” A guard said. “Do you think it’s real… its coming?”

  “It’s not them I’m worried about,” Laural said and glanced toward Madame Caesum. “For reasons of my own, I left this place as you all know… but it wasn’t just that. I found a copy of an ancient scroll in the archives. It spoke of Vestor and his war with the darkness.” Laural’s eyes turned toward Edin. “He may need a drink.”

  Placisus pushed the pitcher over and Edin poured himself one.

  A terrible foreboding feeling clawed at
him from the inside and he glanced at the door at the far end. An exit.

  “There weren’t just wild monsters back in the time of Vestor, humans were hunted like deer or bison. There were no permanent villages because then they’d be easy pray for these predators. The elves knew how to hide, their homes resided in trees and in certain parts of the forests that had a quality to them. A magical quality that the predators would not be able to pass. For a long time, only the elves fought these beasts, these–”

  “Cousins,” Edin said quietly and drank his beer. He felt their eyes on him but did not look away. “They’re rising again… The west rises in darkness, the land will cover of shade…” Everyone was silent, they looked at him curiously, almost fearfully. “That is what I remember… all I remember except one other word… ‘Alhar.’”

  He heard someone gulp to his right, possibly even the thick soldier who so casually kicked out Edin’s chair for him.

  “Everything may rest on your shoulders child.”

  “Who are they, these predators, these cousins then.” One of the guards said.

  “Dematians.” Edin said.

  Someone snorted. “Had me worried there for a moment.” It was the other finely dressed man next to Belo.

  “Shut it Alerin… just shut it.” Belo said.

  “They’re real,” Edin said and sat forward. He lifted his tunic and showed the scar across his side. “This is curtesy of one of their blades.”

  “You fought them?”

  Edin nodded.

  “And killed them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then they can be killed.”

  “They can,” Laural said, but it isn’t just them, they are from a time that far predates our own, a time of real monsters. And it was said they can harness them.”

  “Harness them… like control them?”

  She shook her head, “it’s more like starting a fire and controlling the blaze with burn trails… But these blazes burn hot.”

  Edin drank more ale and shifted in his seat. Were they really talking about dematians invading their world? If so, where were they from? What had they been doing for so long? He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced at it. Long slender fingers with the nails painted a soft purple.

  “If this is true then we must unite with Pharont and the mundanes… this could affect all of us.” Placisus said.

  “He won’t listen,” Laural said. “And the nobility of both Resholt and Dunbilston are so focused on each other, they’re ignoring the reports from the west.”

  “Porinstol is under attack?”

  Laural shook her head. “That’s why I came back. It’s nearly destroyed.”

  13

  The Castle Assault

  “Gods are cursing us aren’t they?” Belo said. “We’ve hid far too long, we’re separated from the mundane world not only by an ocean, but by our very selves. They hate us.”

  “And we them,” Edin said. He looked around the room, eyes looked down except Laural and Caesum.

  “The dematians, I mean, they can’t cross the sea can they?” A young man said. He stood behind Placisus like a sentry protecting his king.

  “We don’t know that… but it doesn’t change our predicament. We’re surrounded and Pharont wants Edin,” Placisus said.

  “We cannot let him be killed… the Ecta Mastrino would unite the people. We will not give in, even if it costs our lives or our friends’ lives.”

  It took him a moment and then he glanced up. “Dorset?”

  “And Mersett,” Arianne said, her hand still holding his arm. “They are part of the deal, hand you over and everything will be forgiven.”

  “Where are they being held?”

  “The castle, under broson watch… Casitas is in charge.”

  “Don’t you have anyone you can trust?” Edin asked.

  “The guard was disbanded… those who joined the brosons swore their allegiance to Pharont, not Delrot. Some of my men did this, though I do not blame them, they have families.”

  “And we’re just a small group of upstarts…” Belo put in.

  “Yes.”

  There was a long pause. “We are facing impossible odds… if we do not comply.” A solider said, he didn’t look at Edin, though he too was probably thinking about loved ones somewhere on the islands.

  “If we do, we only have the dematians to worry about,” Laural said, “and no Ecta Mastrino.”

  “Stop calling me that…” Edin nearly shouted. He took a deep drink from the ale and didn’t put it down for almost a minute. “I’m not whatever it is you want me to be.”

  “We need to get to Pharont… convince him of the threat,” Placisus said.

  “How do we get to him?” Arianne asked.

  “He’s surround by guards and even if we do, we’ll never get out alive.”

  “A distraction so we can slip over the walls…”

  “Maybe if we had Le Fie…”

  Caesum looked toward Laural. They seemed to share some unspoken words. “There’s a network of tunnels beneath us. Leagues of them…”

  Placisus shook his head, “it is a maze, impossible to traverse. We’d get lost before we got a hundred yards from the entrance.”

  “And aren’t many filled with sewage?” the young guard said.

  “Among other things,” Laural said. “I know of one route from a building in your neighborhood Belo…”

  “Not from my place.”

  “From mine. The Harlscots.”

  Edin looked up, curious at first as he guessed she was family, then he knew it didn’t matter. “They’d never let me in the door,” Edin said.

  “They would me...” Laural said as she turned toward Edin and sighed. “Our family isn’t all as dumb as Rube.”

  Laural wasn’t known to the broson men guarding a small road blockaded with overturned wagons, large crates, and household furniture. They gave her a difficult time as she tried to exit the area so she caused a large commotion with a group of four guarding an alleyway.

  An archer was posted on the roof, but he was staring down at the commotion as Edin slipped behind him, put an arm around his neck and squeezed until he fell asleep.

  They leapt between three more buildings until they were blocks away and outside of the perimeter. Then they shimmied down to the street.

  They stuck to the shadows, following the smaller alleys up toward Alcor’s Row.

  Laural continued walking through the streets as if she was just a woman out for a stroll. It took some time before they came to the gate that abutted the rear of the estates. The guard was missing.

  “Probably sent to the siege,” Placisus explained as he unlocked it. They walked past Mersett’s to the neighboring building. A coat-of-arms with a bird, long and thin spreading its wings about to take off. There was nothing in its grip like the bird of Alestow had. “Reach for the heavens.” Placisus said. “Your family’s motto.”

  Laural had went to the front door and now they waited for the rear gate to be opened. The entrance to the underground was beneath a stone pagoda in the yard.

  After about fifteen minutes, they heard feet crunching on gravel and the latch being opened. The wooden gate swung in and beyond it, a

  man in servant’s garb was walking away without a word.

  In a window, they saw Laural in deep conversation with a man and woman who were turned away.

  “Come,” Placisus whispered waiving them toward pagoda. He pushed in a square on one of the pillars, then went to the center, a stone chest with four T shaped handles coming out from them. He pulled on one. A square of stone screamed open near the base. They looked back at the window, the people were gone.

  “Now.”

  Edin went first down a long ladder. The smell was exactly as he’d imagined, wet, poo like and putrid. He summoned the ethereal orb and waited as Placisus, Arianne, and two soldiers climbed down after him. The panel closed and the sound of it was much louder down here.

  They followed the direct
ions turning at forks and crossroads. After about twenty minutes, the fumes were causing him to get lightheaded and his orb blinked in and out like the flashing signal back at the dry docks. Someone crashed into his back.

  “Blast it,” a soldier said.

  “It’s the odor,” Placisus said, “the gas is flammable.”

  “Like holding a torch under your butt and letting one go.” The soldier snickered.

  “Gross,” Arianne said.

  “There’s the door,” Placisus said and pushed past Edin toward it. Placisus tried a key but it didn’t fit. He tried another and soon went through his dangling ring.

  “I don’t have it…”

  Edin pulled out the small lock pick set from Flack and started to work. After about five minutes of sweat and frustration, it opened.

  “When did you learn that?” Arianne asked.

  Edin opened the door and felt the silencing of the talent. His orb blinked out. “Recently,” Edin whispered then added, “there are wan stones here.”

  “So magi don’t break in,” Placisus said.

  “I thought this place was peaceful… everyone gets along?” Arianne asked.

  “When have you ever known everyone to get along?”

  “Under my father’s rule…”

  “Quiet,” Edin whispered. In front of him was a small room with a sewer grate overhead and a ladder leading up to it. Soft moonlight peaked through casting long shadows of the bars near his foot.

  Someone sneezed, or maybe snorted in the darkness. The odor was getting to them. His head was woozy as he began to climb.

  “A garden,” Edin called back.

  “I love the garden, Casitas took me…” Arianne started and then stopped immediately.

  Edin said nothing, he didn’t even look at her. They didn’t talk after the meeting. A part of him didn’t want anything to do with her. She got engaged to a vile creature and then denounced him… for good reason, but it still hurt.

  Why was she even here? he wondered. Was she one of Casitas’ spies?

  “Let me look,” Placisus said and switched places with Edin. The former guard captain put his head to the grate and moved it around as if he were wiping it with his face.