His eyes wide in startlement, Irunan leaned forward and fixed Arin with his gaze. “Did you say a pale green stone?”
Arin looked from Gelon to Irunan and nodded.
Irunan held his hands somewhat apart, fingers curved and nearly touching, as if holding something oblong. “Jadelike? Egg shaped?”
Again Arin nodded.
Irunan leaped to his feet in agitation and turned to Gelon. “But surely this cannot be!”
* * *
Arin and her comrades were completely lost by the time they reached the High Council Chamber; they could no longer tell where they had begun, where the stables were, nor the location of the main gates. Discomposed and muttering to himself, Irunan had hurriedly led them through a labyrinth of black stone corridors to reach the forum hall as the echoes of a gong rang throughout the Wizardholt.
“I think they’ve deliberately designed this place to tangle the unwary mind,” hissed Melor as he strode alongside Ruar through the archway and into the council room. “A dark, confusing maze.”
Ruar nodded in agreement.
The chamber they had entered was circular and held a great, polished black-granite table, horseshoe shaped and filling half of the room. Chairs padded with red velvet ranged ’round its outer perimeter. Red-velvet-padded chairs stood against the curved black walls all the way ’round the room, except where stood the two arched doorways left and right. At the apex of the table—presumably its head—a dark wooden gavel and gavel block lay on the lustrous surface. In the open space and precisely centered between the two ends of the table arc stood a lectern, which Irunan set aside, and he moved one of the chairs from the wall to take its place.
He motioned the Elves to sit in the chairs against the wall at the foot of the council table and facing into the open arc, then he set about lighting additional lanterns to brighten the room. When he finished, he began pacing back and forth and eyeing the two doorways.
Arin, who had held her tongue till now, asked, “Irunan, what is it? Why art thou so disturbed? Yes, the full of my vision is terrible to contemplate, and I gave thee but a sketch, yet thou dost seem to believe that what I have seen is not possible at all.”
Irunan stopped pacing and faced her. “Forgive me, Lady Arin, but what you say is true: it is not possible for you to have seen what your vision has shown you.”
“Not possible? But I did
“That I do not doubt. Yet what you saw…you should not have been able to
Arin started to speak, but Irunan held out a staying hand. “Truly, Lady Arin, it is not my place to counsel you. However I will tell you this: you were wise to bring this matter to Black Mountain. Now let us wait for Sage Arilla and the others.”
The Mage resumed his caged pacing, and with a sigh, Arin fell silent, leaving her questions unspoken, and none of the other Elves said aught as they sat with their backs to the wall.
* * *
By threes and ones and twos, Mages entered the chamber, male and female alike, some to sit at the oval table, others to take places in the chairs along the curved wall. But each and every one fixed the Elven band with stares of speculation, and some seemed to especially eye Arin, as if trying to fathom an enigma beyond grasp.
The chamber slowly filled with a murmur of conversation as more and more Mages arrived. Like Irunan, they were dressed in robes, some blue, as was his, but of many other colors as well. Most of the entering Magefolk seemed to be of indeterminate ages, just as were the Elves, but unlike the Elven band, some of the Wizards were silver haired and bowed under the weight of years, having spent their vigor in the casting of spells. As with all of their kind, however, these “old ones” could recover their vitality by resting in a special way; many had done so before by sailing to Rwn, where they crossed in-between to Vadaria, for there in their home realm the return to youth came much faster than anywhere else within the Planes.
Among the last to enter the council hall were Gelon and a female Mage. Gelon looked ’round the chamber to find Irunan and, seeing him, took an adjacent seat. The female on the other hand stepped to the apex of the table and sat.
She was tall and dressed in a yellow robe. Her hair was light brown and fell nearly to her hips, her eyes light brown as well. In this cycle of casting, she had spent some of her youth, though she was not yet at the point where she needed to
After taking in the Elves with her piercing gaze—peering long and hard at Arin—she glanced ’round the room, noting who was present and absent, and waited some moments more as a few latecomers hurried in. Soon all the chairs were filled, and Mages stood in the archways as well.
Finally she took up the gavel and rapped it on the block a time or two. A hush settled over the congress.
“Irunan, would you advise the Council as to why you called this meeting.”
Irunan moved to the empty chair at the foot of the arc, and stood behind it, grasping high on the sides of its red velvet back. “Sage, this Dylvana”—he turned and gestured toward Arin—“Dara Arin of Darda Erynian, Blackwood, the Great Greenhall, has had a vision of the Dragonstone, of the Green Stone of Xian.”
An uproar filled the chamber as Wizards turned to one another, or leaped to their feet or leaned forward and peered at Arin in shocked disbelief.
Impossible.
This cannot be.
The Green Stone?
How do you know?
The babble continued even though the Sage pounded her gavel for order.
Irunan stepped to Arin’s side. “My Lady.” He held out a hand and Arin took it, and the Mage led the diminutive, four-foot-eight Dylvana to the focal chair. When she was seated, finally the congress began to settle. And the hammering of the gavel at last caused a hush to fall.
“Lady Arin, I am Arilla, Sorceress”—she spread her hands wide, palms upturned—“and Sage of this Council.” As Arin canted her head in acknowledgment, Arilla continued: “I understand that you and your companions have traveled far to bring us word of your vision, and as you can see by our outburst, a vision of the Green Stone is cause for much concern.”
Again Arin canted her head in acknowledgment.
“And now if you would, Lady Arin, tell us of your Seeing.” Arilla took up her gavel and rapped it hard on the block, and her hawklike gaze swept about the room. “And I would have complete silence until her story is done.”
Arilla faced Arin once again and lay down the gavel. “If you would begin, my Lady, and please, leave nothing out.”
Arin took a deep breath and her soft words fell into the silence of the chamber as the Dylvana recounted her vision in all its bloody detail.
* * *
“Without a doubt, it is the Dragonstone,” said Arilla in the stunned silence that followed.
“But how can that be?” protested a red-robed Mage. “The Dragonstone defies all scrying. Even the Dragons themselves cannot sense it.”
“Or so they said, Belgon,” replied Arilla. “Or so they said.”
“Well, we cannot find it,” declared another Mage, an oldster dressed in blue. He turned to a fellow Wizard. “And we looked long and hard.”
As the other Mage nodded in agreement, Arilla murmured, “True.”
Arin cleared her throat. “If the pale green stone I saw in my vision is indeed this unscryable Dragonstone, then how could I have seen it at all?”
Wizards looked at one another. Some shook their heads. Others shrugged. But Belgon stroked his chin in deep thought then looked up and said, “It must be the ‘wild magic’”
Arin turned to the red-robed, black-haired Wizard. “‘Wild magic’? That’s the term Dalavar Wolfmage used. What does it mean?”
Belgon shook his head. “It means, Lady Arin, that you exercise an unknown powe
r in a way we do not understand, for it requires no manipulation of the astral
Again a silence fell upon the Council. At last Arilla said, “As you can see, Lady Arin, we are stunned by your vision, not because we know what it means, but instead because you had a vision at all, for the Green Stone of Xian defies scrying of any sort…except perhaps that of the ‘wild magic’”
A white-haired female Mage dressed in a white robe leaned forward in her chair and held up a finger. Arilla glanced her way. “Yes, Lysanne.”
“Sage, we have not heard all of Lady Arin’s vision.”
“I know,” replied Arilla.
“But I’ve told ye all,” protested Arin.
Lysanne held out a calming hand. “Yes, you have said all you remember, Lady Arin, but you spoke of vague images you cannot recall.”
Arin turned up her hands in a wordless response.
“What Lysanne means,” said Arilla, “is that perhaps she can help you summon those lost images to mind. If so, then they may give us some clue as to where the Green Stone now lies and what to do about it.”
Silverleaf stood and stepped to the side of Arin’s chair. Arilla raised her gaze to him.
“I am Alor Vanidar, past Coron of Darda Galion, the Eldwood, the Land of the Larks.” Soft exclamations murmured ’round the chamber. Raising his voice slightly, Silverleaf said, “I”—he turned and gazed at Rissa and the other Elves, and then looked down to Arin—“that is, we would hear more of this Dragonstone, more of this Green Stone of Xian. Too, we would hear if there is a way to avert its terrible doom.”
Arilla nodded. “Yes, we owe you that much.” Now her gaze swept about the chamber. “If there are no objections, I will adjourn the Council for the time being to tell these guests the history of the Dragonstone, inasmuch as we know it. Too, I propose that Lysanne try to recover the lost part of Lady Arin’s vision. But although we adjourn for now, be ready to reassemble on short notice.”
Again her gaze swept ’round the chamber, and hearing no protest, she looked at Lysanne. “Stay, Lysanne.” Then she gestured to Arin and Vanidar and their comrades. “All of you stay as well.”
But before she could bang her gavel down, there came a commotion at the doorway, and pressing through the gathered Mages came an armed and armored figure. Small she was, compared to the Mages, five feet two at most. She was garbed in brown leather—vest and breeks and boots—and hammered bronze plates like bronze scales were sewn on the vest; underneath she wore a pale cream silk jerkin. Her skin was the color of saffron, and a brown leather headband incised with red glyphs held her short-cropped raven-black hair back and away from her tilted eyes and her high-cheekboned face. And at her waist were sheathed two slightly curved swords: one barely longer than a long-knife, the other with a full-length blade.
She marched ’round the table, Mages turning to see. Ignoring the murmurs and the stares, she stepped into the open space before Arin and faced the Dylvana, her eyes of onyx staring into the hazel of Arin’s, and in a ringing voice declared, “Watakushi wa tora desu!”
Now she grasped the hilts of her swords and, steel whispering, drew them both in a flash and held them on high, calling out, “Kore wa watakushi no kiba desu!”
Viper swift, at Arin’s side, Silverleaf’s own blade sprang to hand, and as he started to step forward, the yellow warrior knelt on both knees before Arin and placed the gleaming swords on the black floor. “Watakushi no kiba wa anata no meirei ni shitagai masu,” she said in a soft voice, and then bowed forward and down, her forehead to the dark stone.
Arin looked at her in bewilderment, and then up and about at the Mages. “Do any of ye know—?”
Seated at the table, a white-haired Magus, at the end of his current casting cycle, said, “I will translate for you, Lady Arin. First she said, ‘I am a tiger.’ And then, when she drew her swords, um, ‘These are my fangs.’ And lastly, when she lay them at your feet, she said something to the effect of, ‘They are yours to command.’”
“Mine to command?”
“Yes.”
“Her swords?”
“Yes, her fangs.”
“But I—”
“If you do not accept, she will be dishonored.”
Arin sighed. Stepping from her chair, Arin knelt on her own two knees before the abased warrior and took up the blades. Then she sat back on her heels and softly said, “Rise…”
“Aiko,” supplied the white-haired Mage.
“Rise, Aiko,” said Arin.
The yellow warrior raised up, and her eyes widened to see the Dylvana on her knees before her. Arin smiled, and reversed the swords and handed them to Aiko hilt first. “I will accept thy friendship and thine aid, Aiko, and yea, even thy service. Yet heed, thou art thine own woman, free to choose as thou wilt, yet should our paths run together awhile, then I welcome thee.”
Confusion lurked deeply in Aiko’s dark eyes, but she took the swords and sheathed them.
Arin stood and held out a hand to Aiko. Hesitantly, the warrior reached up and took it and stood as well, then she looked at Arin and grinned, her entire face lighting up, and Arin returned her smile. The Dylvana turned to Vanidar and said, “I believe thou canst put that away now,” gesturing at the long-knife still in his grasp. Vanidar grinned and slipped the blade back into its scabbard.
“Ahem!” Arilla harrumphed. All eyes turned her way. She glanced ’round the chamber. “If there is no more business…”
She banged the gavel down.
* * *
After the close of the session, accompanied by Lysanne, Arilla led the Elves and Aiko through the labyrinthine passages of the Wizardholt.
Aiko, striding at Arin’s side, was silent.
“Dost thou speak common?” asked Arin.
“Yes, Lady,” replied Aiko, the hint of a strange accent overlaying the words.
“I must ask: why didst thou pledge unto me?”
“My tiger told me so.”
“Thy tiger?”
“Yes.”
Perin, walking behind, said, “Thou must be the one we heard about, the one who came through the winter to Blackstone.”
“Two winters past,” added Biren.
Without turning, Aiko said, “I did.”
Arin glanced at the striding warrior. “And thy tiger told thee to do that as well, to come unto Blackstone?”
“Yes.”
“If it is no secret, why?”
“To pledge to you, my Lady.”
“To pledge to me?”
“Yes.”
Arin looked questioningly at Rissa, but she just shrugged.
“This, um, tiger of thine,” said Ruar, “just what is it and how does it tell thee of these things?”
Aiko strode onward in silence, answering not.
Arilla said, “She came to us two winters back. Said she had a purpose for coming, but until this day we knew nothing of it or of its import. She has been in service as a Warrior of Blackstone Mountain…until now, that is.”
“But this tiger of hers…” Ruar probed again.
“She does not explain it,” said Lysanne.
“Mayhap it is more ‘wild magic,’” volunteered Melor.
“Perhaps,” replied Lysanne.
They came to a large room with wooden doors—of various subdued colors—uniformly spaced ’round the walls. There were comfortable chairs and lounges arranged in clusters all about the chamber, with tables here and there. On one of these tables in the center of the room the Elves found their personal equipment piled; someone in the stables had unladed the horses and ponies and had brought their gear to the common room. “Those are the guest quarters,” said Arilla, gesturing to doors. “Choose any room you like, at the moment all are unoccupied. Perhaps you need to freshen up—ther
e are bathing facilities within.” She glanced at an elaborate waterclock on the wall. “What say we meet here in four marks, yes? At that time I will relate what little I—what little we know of the Dragonstone. And then we shall have a midday meal, after which Lysanne will tell you, Lady Arin, how you and she working together will attempt to find your lost memories.”
“Mayhap we don’t have time,” said Perin as he moved to the pile of gear.
“Time for what?” asked Biren, helping his brother sort.
Perin stopped and looked at his twin. “Mayhap every moment counts, and if we stop to refresh ourselves, we will have missed whatever opportunity there is to do whatever it is that can be done.”
“But, Perin, we have already been on this, um, mission since midsummer, and now is the dead of winter. What count another four watermarks, eh?”
“Hai! In four watermarks I can run three full leagues and some, and mayhap whatever it is that’s to be done, wherever it is that we have to go, we will be just three leagues short when the doom falls.”
Arilla cleared her throat. “You assume, my friends, that it is you who must carry on with whatever it is, if anything, that can be done. Yet perhaps your only part in this affair was to bring word of the vision to us.”
“But mayhap not,” said Rissa, taking the gear handed to her by Perin. “The vision, after all, came to Arin, hence mayhap it is we who must avert this thing, if it can be averted at all.”
“Please,” said Lysanne, her voice soft. “Let us neither argue nor speculate. When we discover what else it is that Lady Arin saw, then we may have a better grasp on exactly what is to be done. Till then, I suggest we all do as Arilla says, for I need Lady Arin well rested before I can begin.” She looked at Arin. “You must sleep well tonight, my dear, for tomorrow we shall make our first attempt at uncovering what else you may have seen.”
“Tomorrow!” exclaimed Arin, dismayed.
Lysanne nodded and smiled, tiny crow’s feet crinkling about the comers of her eyes.
Arin shook her head. “But what if Perin is right and we have no time to spare?”
“Then, my dear, we will simply be too late. Yet I cannot do this sooner, for I can see your
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