by Robert Day
Sleep overcame him finally, and he found himself suddenly in the darkened plaza of Kel’Valor. With the awareness this brought him, he knew he could return to wakefulness or the normal slumber that brought dreams, but instead chose to remain. His trips to the Combat Plane had been few of late, mainly because of the exhaustive sparring he and Javin had been having. As such, he felt a tugging from the Plane, as if he needed to be there for a reason.
The Dragon who occasionally loomed high over the plaza was not in attendance this visit. Valdieron knew as little about the dragon as he did the Master, and wished he had asked Cazarandaya, the Dragon in the Spider Caverns, what he knew.
He began to cross to the Combat Ambit, its doors now ever wide to allow him access, but as he crossed the center of the plaza, an impulse caused him to turn to the right, where he saw the dark form of the Master framed against the lit interior of the building called the ‘Hall of Magic’. The appearance of the master startled Valdieron, for lately he had seen little of his mentor.
But now, the Master’s appearance at the Hall of Magic made Valdieron nervous. He had been told in time he would study in the Hall of Magic, just as he had in the Hall of Combat, a revelation that made him afraid yet anxious. He had seen how effective magic could be, and knew the Ashar’an were masters of the Art. Any knowledge and ability he had in the art would be of great use if he ever encountered them again.
With a rueful glance at the Combat Ambit, he saw the doors sliding silently closed, as if to lock him out, and he knew he must turn towards the Hall of Magic.
Without word, the Master turned aside for him to pass under the great arch into the hall. Valdieron began to step past him, but stopped as a faint whispering came to him. He could not determine its origin or even decipher the faint words, but knew they were meant for him. He listened further, but the words did not repeat, and a look to the Master showed he was going to offer nothing, if indeed he had heard.
The Hall of Magic was lit with a bright ambience of indeterminable origin, enabling Valdieron to view the huge room. The ceiling was vaulted, with great rib like arches leading to a flat circular apex that looked to be some rainbow hued disc ten feet in diameter. The walls were inset with silver pilasters that held up the roof’s ribs, and the floor was of a circular checkered design of concentric circles that grew gradually larger around a disc identical to the one inset into the roof, except this one had a small pedestal on which rested a circular globe that pulsed with a myriad of colors. From where Valdieron stood at the entry, a similar pedestal and globe was set at each circle, twelve in number, not counting the central globe.
Without being told, Valdieron moved to the first sphere, and found it about the size of a melon. The colors that swirled within looked sharp and clear through the thin glassy surface. The pedestal was waist high, and as he extended his hand, he felt dim warmth as his fingers neared it.
Then he noticed a strange imprint in the globe, barely perceptible, which he realized were hand impressions, situated on either side of the globe. Reaching out, he placed both of his hands in these impressions. He felt a tingling along his fingers and arms, and his eyes felt suddenly weary and blurred, like he had not slept for days. He could feel himself drifting into unconsciousness, all the while aware of his contact with the strange globe.
Like a dream, images came to him, just as they had when he had drunk from the Fountain of Truth, so lifelike they assailed his every senses, yet he was aware he was present in spirit only.
The ‘dream’ was obviously pertaining to the magical arts, as scene after scene showed Kay'taari performing spectacular and sometimes inane feats with magic. Probably meant to show the extent to which magic could be manipulated, it also showed more than anything, magic could be used as a weapon or a means of destruction and carnage.
“Empathy. Reasoning. Knowledge. Intuition. These are the traits of the practitioner of magic, just as strength, speed, and reflex are to the warrior.” The words were those of the Master, sounding in his mind as they always did, while around him, magicians manipulated the elements to bring rain or create fire, or whip up a tree-shaking tempest.
“From the beginning of time and creation, magic has existed, though not as you see it here, but in its true form as the lifeblood of the universe, the glue binding everything together.”
“Then we are beings of magic,” mused Valdieron, flinching reflexively as meteoric balls of fire obliterated a mountain nearby, raining debris down around him.
“Yes, and as such, are able to manipulate this essence called Magic.”
“So then, all things are capable of Magic?”
“Only those who have minds with the ability to process the thoughts necessary to manipulate the essence. This includes many races of creature with the mental ability both inferior and superior than we of the Kay'taari.” Valdieron knew Dragons could wield great magic, as could those of Elvenkind.
Having been told a little about the nature of magic by Astan-Valar and Ka’Varel, Valdieron knew of the anti life which fed off the magical energy that was magic. “If manipulating the Essence creates the Unlife, why use it?”
“That is not the case, Valdieron. The Unlife is the antithesis of the Essence itself, so no amount of manipulation will change it. Despite what you have been told, magic does not strengthen the Unlife, but is the only weapon that can be used against it.”
Feeling what he could only call relieved anxiety, Valdieron turned his attention back to the visions flickering around him.
“Open your mind, Valdieron. Be one with the universe, and you will be one with magic.”
The room dimmed noticeably, though the images continued, lulling Valdieron into a trance like state, while age old instruction in the magical arts was passed to him through means both arcane and intricate.
A stranger in a strange land, Javin nevertheless felt somewhat at home in the opulent taproom of the ‘Lady’s Blessing’. The patronage was not large, but built gradually as the afternoon shadows lengthened outside. He started off speaking with the barman they had approached when they entered the Inn earlier, Algrier by name, an aging man whose dark skin glistened with the sheen of perspiration as he worked methodically behind the large marble topped bar. His features were not soft, but he was pleasant to talk with once he began to open up, sharing jokes and sly comments with those who spoke with him, and he asked little about Javin, for which the Darishi was grateful. Plus, he poured a good tankard of cold ale, which made him immediately likeable.
“You the entertainment tonight, huh?” he chuckled, sliding across another gleaming silver tankard to replace the one Javin drained without taking breath.
“As long as I’m sober, yes, though I think I’d rather be part of the audience tonight.” He said this jokingly as a pair of well dressed young ladies entered through the arched doorway, looking as if they should be important in white lace dresses. Two young men, of similar bearing and age, entered after them, laughing at some private joke. Neither so much as acknowledged the presence of the burly hired hands who flanked the door. Obviously such were beneath them, and unworthy even of note.
“You’re not wrong there, friend, but I’m thinking you had better be a little careful with your ways. No offence intended, but some of the young hot-heads who come here might take any lingering gaze the wrong way, if you take my meaning, and I’d hate to see any trouble for Mister Palarmaine.”
“I’ll try to be subtle then,” assured Javin with a chuckle that Algrier mirrored before turning to serve a customer. The Darishi was a little surprised at the friendly warning from the barman, but realized he had his own interests in mind, for any harm done to the Inn’s reputation would affect him also.
A trio of old musicians set up on the narrow stage, in that they placed three stools upon it and sat with an instrument each: a flute, a lute and a cluster of lap top hand drums, each of varying size. They began with some slow, melodious tunes, obviously not wanting to burn themselves out before the majority of the pat
ronage turned up, though Javin was skeptical as to whether or not they would even make it that long.
With darkness well and truly blanketing the city outside, and the taproom filling by the minute, Javin paid for his drinks and rose. Several people around him eyed him and his twin weapons warily, though he merely gave them a smile and nod of the head, letting the puzzled and confused whispers follow him as he wound his way to the stairs beside the stage. Let the patrons wonder for a time, and then he and Valdieron would give them a show they had not seen before.
Turning as he made the stairs for one last look at the growing patrons, four figures entering through the door made him curse and press against the near wall. All wore the red and black stripes of the Bloodguard, but now wore showy white and red capes at the expense of the red beret. The one who led them was the young officer who had accosted them in the street earlier. Cursing again as he realized the possibility of trouble, Javin leapt up the stairs to tell Valdieron the news.
Something tugged at Valdieron as he watched and learned inside Kel’Valor, drawing him from the Dream Plane and images of arcane magic. His mind woke, as if from a trance, and awareness came back to him with the coming of consciousness, but with the fading presence of Kel’Valor he felt a dull force, like the faintest of breezes on a warm day. He concentrated on this force, sensing it was something urgent and he had little time, but his mind, now opened for the magical training of Kel’Valor, grasped at the force. As it did, he realized it was a faint voice, the words indistinct. Like a beacon it drew him, but just as he began to perceive the repetitive words, his eyes opened and he looked up at Javin, who stood shaking him softly.
“We may have some trouble,” warned Javin, making Valdieron suddenly cautious as his eyes scanned the room and his hand went to his sword at the side of the bed. “That young officer we met before in the street is down below. He will more than likely see us when we perform later.”
Valdieron let out a relieved sigh and lay back on the bed, his head aching dully as if he had been drinking the night before. His mind still echoed with the distant words heard in Kel’Valor. He reverted his memory back to the instant before consciousness had claimed him. It was not easy, with the pain of the headache making it even more difficult, and the words eluded him just like a dream upon waking.
“Whatever you were dreaming, it must have been strange,” smiled Javin, moving to his own bed to sit. “You said something about ‘Sha’kar and a Princess’ there as I began to shake you. Almost scared the heck out of me.”
I have your Princess. Meet me at Sha’kar!
Rising on deaden legs, Valdieron moved to the nearby washstand and dipped his head into the cool water. Those were the words that had eluded him; he knew it now as he knew his name. Their source was beyond him, but he assumed it was not good.
“We have to get to Sha’kar as quickly as possible. A friend is in trouble.”
Javin raised a brow at the declaration, but knew better than to question the comment. He had come too far to question Valdieron, and knew his friend would tell him what he needed to know in due course.
“We can leave now if you like. That will save any possibility of confrontation with this Bloodguard downstairs. We can leave a note for Palarmaine and apologize for our haste, but he appears to be a decent person. He should understand.”
“No, we have an obligation to him, and as much as any delay pains me, it would be better if we left on good terms, for at least we can start early on a full stomach and a good rest. Besides, we need the money.”
“Very well, but come tomorrow, we shall see how far Firefox and Shakk can run, for I can see in your features how important this is to you.”
“More important than you can imagine,” mused Valdieron, wetting his face again, but no amount of washing could dispel the feeling of destiny that gripped him. There was a reckoning coming, he was sure, and he vowed he would let no harm befall Kitara.
When a servant came for Valdieron and Javin later that evening and escorted them back to the now rowdy and hazy taproom, it was no surprise the trio of musicians had long since been booed from the stage, leaving it free for the new performers. Valdieron made a quick scan of the crowd as they jostled through, using his height to try and espy the young Bloodguard, but failed to find him. With any luck, he and his friends had left long before.
A man he assumed was Palarmaine was stationed behind the long bar, chatting idly with Algrier. He was a tall man, angular of feature with long oiled hair held in a single plaited tail worked with silver cord. His velvet trousers and vest of crimson and black almost made Valdieron think he was a Bloodguard, but he gave Valdieron a curt nod as the youth caught his gaze. He seemed displeased at something by the expression on his face, and Valdieron hoped it did not concern he or Javin, or for that matter, Kaz. The Moorcat had an uncanny knack of making a nuisance of himself, though what he did was usually because of his frivolous nature rather than any desire to wreak havoc.
There was a scattering of applause mingled with catcalls, jeers and whistles as the two leapt onto the low dais. By their appearance, many guessed what was going to take place, but from many bemused expressions, it was obvious Palarmaine had not given any notice of their performance.
“Lords and Ladies of Altaire, greetings and well met.” Valdieron had to shout over the quieting din until most of the attention was drawn to the dais. It was his night to introduce them, something he did not relish, but as Javin did not have the gift for speeches either, they had agreed to alternate the task, though he wished it was not him this evening as he scanned the crowd again for any signs of the Bloodguard. “We who are to entertain you tonight ask only that none come too close to the stage while we are performing, and that if anything is to be thrown in our direction, we hope it is of the gold variety, not a stool or table.” This drew some chuckles from the crowd as he gave a low bow. Others called out impatiently for them to begin, and others expectantly called for them to leave already, but it was nothing the two had not experienced before, and they paid it no heed.
When he straightened, both he and Javin threw back their cloaks to reveal their costumes, thin trousers and vests of red and blue both, over which stretched dark braces linked to fine leather belts. Their weapons were attached to these belts with fine hooks, enabling them to be slipped free with a twist, and with a synchronous hiss, four blades rose as Valdieron turned to face Javin as he had many times before. The crowd grew silent as a whole, whether stunned or merely anxious to see what transpired next, though some made lewd comments about their costumes and some of the female patrons gave approving whistles.
There was no signal to start, just a flicker of movement from one that started the other, and within a heartbeat the melee was joined. The unmistakable clatter and clang of steel on steel accentuated the precise dance like actions of the two as Javin’s twin Adamantine Sabers met with Valdieron’s slender silvery Rapier and pale silver Dragonsword. All instruments of war rather than music, their enchanting song was one of death, alluring with the portent of danger.
What may have seemed dazzling to the onlookers slowly grew with the crowd’s excitement as the artists worked their craft, and even those who were not intoxicated were sure that blades that should have drawn blood were turned aside as if by some unseen force at the last moment. There were one or two calls of ‘Frauds!’ and ‘Charlatans!’ from some unimpressed or maybe jealous onlookers, but those who were close could see there was no faking the precision and ferocity with which the two sparred.
A glimpse of crimson amongst the crowd drew Valdieron’s gaze as he worked his blades in a frenzy to counter Javin’s flashing sabers. For some reason, the Darishi was pressing as hard as ever this evening, perhaps to impress the higher class crowd.
As he feared, the young Bloodguard commander had recognized them and had worked his way to the front of the crowd. He held a drink in one hand, while his other hand rested at his waist, deliberately close to the hilt of his sword.
A
sharp pain in his left shoulder drew him back to the melee as one of Javin’s sabers slipped through his defenses, not striking deep but drawing a long cut that caused him to lose control of his Rapier as Javin continued to fight, as was their way even if one of them was injured. They had learned early the crowd liked to see a little blood spilled. A flurry of presses from the Darishi knocked the Rapier from his grip, which left him at a major disadvantage. He threw every effort into fending off the two blades with his one, but finally had to concede with a gracious bow that had Javin raising his arms in mock victory as the crowd gave a generous applause.
Valdieron turned to retrieve his dropped Rapier, but found it gone, which made him instantly scan the front row of the crowd, hoping someone had picked it up. Somebody had, but his breath caught as he saw the young Bloodguard commander holding it as he backed slowly through the crowd, his face split in a mocking smile as he bumped aside other patrons.
Jumping from the stage, Valdieron made to follow him, but could make no ground as the crowd closed around him, applauding him and offering him drinks. Many were young females, which he did not notice as he used his height to follow the Bloodguards path. It was no surprise to see him make for the exit.
Maybe it was the fact he still held his sword in hand and the angry expression on his face that alarmed the crowd, but a path opened through the crowd for him to push through and make for the door.
A strong wind buffeted him as he threw open the heavy door to find a late storm had broken. A warm rain fell, driven by the wind, while jagged lightning preceded the rumbling of distant thunder. His keen hearing picked up the faint echoing of splashing footfalls, and he turned towards the left to see a dark figure disappearing around the corner of the large Inn.
