Magic's Genesis- Reckoning

by Rosaire Bushey

  “I’m sorry,” Bartra said. “We sometimes forget that dragon voice, even a modest noise, can be so discomforting.” Lydria sensed him cast a spell that would allow them to remain unaffected by dragon voice, although she wondered if he had extended that protection to the rest of Safarngal as well.

  Gathering her wits quickly, Haustis echoed Keldon’s appraisal and added, “Are you saying the dead walk in Eigrae?” Her voice was edgy and tense and Lydria saw her lean forward slightly, the muscles in her neck and shoulders bunched as if she would spring at Keldon.

  “Not for long. In each case, they may have uttered a word or two and taken a faltering step, but then they immediately fell into dust.” Keldon raised his eyebrows to see if anyone might have an explanation for the behavior.

  “This can only be due to Wynter’s presence in the Melting Grae,” Haustis said. “Is he trying to build an army of those who are already dead to come and fight for him where the men of the north and the Qorghal cannot?”

  “Be at peace, Haustis. Wynter has not entered the Melting Grae to find an army. He enters to find his own peace. He seeks his family – specifically, his son, Sol. He said as much in the presence of Synca’s late mate, Garprax. Yet, I have no doubt these appearances are related to his entry into the Melting Grae.”

  Sturmgrae’s mouth opened to show the rows of sword-like teeth and a long, pointed tongue. Her countenance made Lydria think she was in pain, and so the wielder reached out to her. “I am fine, Wielder, but passing an egg of this size is no painless thing. Hopefully the next one will come easier.”

  Lydria was surprised the dragon was delivering more than a single egg. Synca had only the one, but dragons were new to the world, and little was known about them. She moved past Bartra to Sturmgrae’s side, blocking the view of the others, but turning moments later with an egg, glowing blue and the size of her torso, which she carried with magic. Lydria had seen the shell from which Sanprax Viridian was born, but Sturmgrae’s egg was different. It was scaled like its mother, light blue and shimmering as if it were sitting under a clear stream. But it was also smooth, with no connections between the scales, only lines of darker color, and holding it close, Lydria could smell the dragon inside, a dusty fresh scent like a stack of spring hay in a field. She placed the egg, at Sturmgrae’s direction, under the dragon’s wing near her body where her warmth would help it to hatch.

  Lydria inhaled deeply and raised her head, her smile wide and she realized everyone was staring. She walked back to stand by the others, a light blush to her cheeks.

  “Wynter must be returned to Eigrae or he must remain in the Melting Grae as a member of that particular society. It is my feeling he will not choose to come back on his own. Now, if you will excuse me, if I am correct, I think my mate would like me to be with her while she delivers the next egg.”

  Graenel and the others followed Keldon’s lead in bowing to the dragons before leaving the cave and returning to the cold sunshine of Safarngal.

  3-The Impossible Task

  “How are we supposed to bring Wynter back?” Hokra’s question hung in the air as they left the dragon’s cave, and broke into several groups taking different paths among the cliff dwellings. Keldon and Haustis found a path to the fields of grass on top of the cliffs while Graenel turned down the path with Relin. The Chag king and the Eifen had become good friends in their time together and often could be found telling each other stories. They were together whenever time allowed, and their boisterous laughter was a common thing heard in the valley. Following them down to the river was Pars who continued, Lydria did not doubt, further beneath the ground, back to the archives where they had found him earlier.

  Hokra and Lydria stopped halfway down the winding staircases of Safarngal. There was a small space carved from the stone and a railing they stood by, looking out to the river below, the prince waving and engaging in short conversations with those who passed beneath them. Lydria stood silently, her gaze not fixed on any one thing, but her eyes set in place. Kimi curled around her feet, rubbing his nose and snout on her shins and saying nothing. “How are we to find Wynter, Hokra? He has the only instrument that was made to travel to the Melting Grae. Our magic, even combined, will not open such a gate.”

  “Are you sure?” Hokra turned his full attention to Lydria, his upper and lower eyelids wide against the sun. “We have never tried combining our powers. Perhaps it is possible.”

  Lydria was not as old as the prince of the Chag Ca’Grae, only in her early twenties, but she felt young standing there while others waited on her for decisions and guidance. “I have tried,” she admitted finally. I have used the stones to help focus my power and it was not enough.”

  “Is that why you were missing for more than a day?”

  She smiled and placed her hand on the Chag’s shoulder. “It is. I couldn’t move for most of the morning, and this one,” she lifted her toes under Kimi’s belly so that he grumbled a little before putting his head back down to sleep, “kept walking on my chest telling me he was hungry. No, the stones alone will not help us into the Melting Grae, of that I am sure.”

  “But Sturmgrae and Bartra believe Wynter must not stay in the Melting Grae,” Hokra added “We have been given our task, Wielder. It is up to us to find a way. Perhaps, Haustis can meet with the spirits once more to see what assistance they can provide.” He looked at Lydria and his face told her that despite his suggestion, he did not believe it was possible.

  “That door is closed to us, even Haustis has conceded as much. No, I think we need to go back to Ep’Muta and find the entrance Wynter used.”

  It was a conversation Lydria, Hokra, Haustis, and Relin had gone over dozens of times as they made their way back from the ruins of the island fortress on Ep’Muta and it had continued since their arrival in Safarngal. Every time, Lydria hoped to hear something that would change her mind. Every time, it came back to one simple truth – Wynter used the Sword of Wilmamen to open a door which closed behind him. Without the sword, they could not enter the Melting Grae.

  “We must make a list of ways that may be possible and try each one until they are exhausted,” Lydria said. Her father, a soldier, would always make lists and try them in mock combat to find the best ways to defeat enemies or stifle defenses.

  Hokra sat on a flat bench near the rock wall opposite the railing. He gripped the wall with the pads of his fingers, pads that filled most of Lydria’s palm, and he pulled out a small chunk of brown stone and molded it in his hands like it was mud. Below them Chag children played by the river and older Chags moved quickly outside and then back into the comforting darkness of the cliffs.

  “Lydria, you speak of lists, and until recently, I would have said, ‘yes, a list is a fine idea.’ However, I can think of only a single thing to put on such a list. Our task is impossible except for the Sword of Wilmamen, which we do not have. What else would you put on this list?”

  Rubbing her hands along her arms to fend of the crisp wind, Lydria allowed some magic to warm her and sat next to her friend, dislodging Kimi who quietly curled himself around her feet again after she had settled. “You have floated among your people and we have just come from the home of dragons who are going to be parents. Surely, you must believe there is something we can do to try.”

  Hokra shook his head slowly and turned to Lydria, blinking first his upper eyelid and then his lower, studying her face. “Perhaps, we can continue our walk and perhaps the world will show us something which may be of use. It is, at this time, as good a suggestion as any other I can find.”

  “There. You see, Hokra, there is something we can add to our list.”

  “So long as you won’t be upset when we learn nothing.” Hokra smiled and pushed Lydria with his shoulder, upsetting Kimi again and causing the cat to give a low growl to Hokra who scratched his ears in apology.

  They sat on the bench for some minutes saying nothing when there was a whistle from below and they got up to look over the edge of the railing. Hau
stis and Keldon had found their way back to the river and waved their hands, urging them both to come to the riverbed.

  Getting around Safarngal was becoming second nature to Lydria who learned the passages and paths the Chags used to navigate quickly, and she could go from the river to the roof as fast as Hokra even without magic. As they wound their way through the stairs and ramps, they each started walking faster than the other and when they turned to look at each other, they started to run in earnest. Despite his shorter legs, Hokra normally won, but they would each check the others’ collar carefully when they had finished to be sure magic hadn’t been used for an advantage.

  “You two are like brother and sister, competing in everything,” Haustis commented, eager, it seemed, to have the diversion of conversation. Lydria understood Haustis wished to be alone with her and so she suggested to the short Chag prince and tall human king that they find Relin and Pars before they consulted the stones one last time. Haustis suggested they meet in the archives, and Keldon agreed, moving at once to be off with Hokra, who turned to the giant king as they walked and asked if he could hold Keldon’s two-handed great sword – a weapon that was taller than any living Chag.

  When the two had moved a distance away, Haustis leaned in to Lydria.

  “Keldon’s trip to Safarngal has not been only about Wynter, it seems.” She smiled slightly; her teeth just visible as her mouth parted for a moment. “King Edgar has sent Keldon with a message.”

  Lydria leaned forward waiting to hear what it was. She thought that perhaps Edgar had something to do with Keldon’s arrival and when he and Haustis went to the roof of Safarngal while the others went down, she became even more curious.

  “Edgar has sent me a message to ask if I have made my decision.”

  “And have you?” Lydria gripped her sister’s hands and leaned into Haustis to be near her mouth so her words could be more private.

  “I have.” Haustis smiled fully, her full mouth and bright teeth reflecting her happiness for a moment, before they collapsed slowly in on themselves. “But there is still the matter of Wynter. I thought when we went south, we would capture him or be killed trying. That he would create a magic sword and slice through the air to escape into the Melting Grae did not occur to me. So, we are left having not accomplished our goal, and so, while I have decided upon my answer, I cannot tell him this.”

  Lydria wrapped her arm around the taller woman’s torso. “Can you not give him your answer without going to Bayside? Tell him your feelings and that you will return when Wynter has been captured.”

  “I could do that. But what if I answer him, and then do not return? I could not do that to him.”

  “But if you don’t, he will wait just the same, and his heart will be heavy because he does not know your love.”

  “I believe he does, but what you say is wise and I will think on it, and perhaps send a message back with Keldon.”

  “I’m very happy to hear you say it,” Lydria said, gripping her sister tighter and letting go suddenly. “Now, does all this have something to do with that mysterious box you were looking at this morning?”

  Haustis blushed. Her dark skin turning a deep blue at her cheeks as she brought forward a small bone box. “A box of this sort is used but rarely among my people,” she said. “Drae Ghern used to say that a gift held within a box of bone, takes some of the life from the bone and makes it its own.”

  Haustis held the box for Lydria to hold. The lid was etched with a forest scene, and delicate vines of green and gold wrapped their way around the container. On the bottom was a three-pointed crown of gold, with rays like the sun shining upward from the center.

  Lydria looked at the box and raised an eyebrow, asking if she could look. Haustis nodded quickly and Lydria opened the small container and found a circle made of what looked like diamond the color of the palest spring sky.

  “Is it a ring?” Lydria was unsure, because it was far too large for Haustis. Even her less elegant thumb would fall quickly through it.

  “It is an earring, actually,” Haustis explained. “Not, however, as your people wear earrings, in their lobes and upper ear. In Eifynar the practice of wearing such jewelry has long been abandoned, but Relin says the Eifen of the West still carry on the tradition. It is most likely that Pars has told Edgar through Batra. I believe he keeps the king apprised of what is happening here.”

  “How does it fit in your ear – there is no opening?” Lydria moved to touch the ring and Haustis pulled it back.

  “You must not touch it. Only the person the ring is gifted to may touch it and only if they agree to the terms – at least, that is what Relin told me. Still, because Eifen ears are different than humans, our ear jewelry does not go through our skin. This type of earring goes over the outer ear and sits here,” she pointed to the stalk of skin and bone that protruded less than a finger width from her skull. The Eifen’s ears were hinged upon this stalk and were able to move backward and forward like an owl or cat. The ring, it seemed, would fit around the ear stalk in the same way a ring would fit over a finger.

  Haustis smiled and placed the bone box carefully in a leather pouch. They had begun to walk during their conversation and soon found themselves entering the lower levels of Safarngal where the sunshine could not penetrate. Lydria provided globes of floating light to help them make their way through the deserted hallways. Ahead, through a large stone door, the glow from more of the lights flickered, telling them others were in the archives waiting their arrival.

  Relin made his way down moments later, and Lydria explained that she was going to consult the stones to see if they could discover a way into the Melting Grae. There was no dissent, but she could tell the others had no undue enthusiasm the project might work.

  Lydria reached into a pouch at her waist and took a blue sphere containing four segments, four Stones of Power, and held it in front of her in her palm, her chest heaving once as she thought about what she was trying to find. Holding the sphere, she thought of the Melting Grae and how to get there, expecting to see a shimmering white path as she had in the past. Instead the sphere showed her nothing. For long minutes she tried and when it seemed the others could hold their breath no longer, she lowered her hand, the small glimmer of hope she saw in her friends evaporating before her hand clutched the sphere and put it away.

  “Haustis, our list of ways to get to the Melting Grae seems to start and end with the sword Wynter took with him. I was hoping the stone would show us a path, but it has not. Can we try to reach out through the spirits?” Lydria had asked the question out loud but she had asked her sister the same thing in private and she knew the answer.

  “We can try, but I fear those doors are closed.” Haustis sat on a stone bench and motioned for others to join her. Together they formed a circle, linking hands, the wielders sharing their power with Haustis and her own Stone of Power glowing brightly in the amulet resting against her skin under her tunic. The golden light highlighted the strong features of her chin, nose, and eyes as her head bent forward over her chest. No one made a noise. Even Keldon, who had not visited with the Eifen spirits before, could sense the importance of what Haustis was trying.

  The archives were silent as if they were empty. Lydria and Hokra sat on either side of Haustis and willed their power to their friend and watched as sweat broke upon her brow. The Eifen’s head twitched and her lip curled, but her face quickly regained the look of serenity it had when they began. After nearly an hour, Haustis opened her eyes.

  “I cannot get through. However, I saw an image of the Sword of Wilmamen. It appears the only way to follow Wynter is to use the sword he wields. The sword he has taken with him.”

  “Perhaps we should go back to Sturmgrae; maybe there is more she could tell us,” Keldon looked hopefully around the circle. Wynter had escaped Solwyn under Keldon’s watch and for that the human king believed he was responsible for Wynter’s actions. But Wynter was freed by three grown dragons, and no man, not even Keldon, cou
ld have hoped to stop them.

  Lydria smiled knowingly at Keldon. She too felt responsible for Wynter. She had shown mercy and let him live after their battle at the Cobalt Tower. She had taken his stone, removed the influence of his wife from his mind, and left him imprisoned. But she had let him live.

  Haustis was feeling the same, Lydria guessed. The previous Haustis had been told by the spirits to kill Wynter, and she could have easily done so when they first met, when Wynter was weak and before he understood the power his collar gave him. But she too, valued mercy above destruction. She did, later, try to kill him, but she lost her own life, passing on the role of Haustis to the woman whose hand Lydria grasped still.

  “We will find a way,” Lydria said, smiling at her half-sister, and then to the others. “There is always a way, we just need to find it.”

  4-Apparitions

  The wielders, Keldon, and the Eifen left Pars to continue his work in the archives and headed outside to the river. The last leaves of the trees were falling to the cold ground, and the air was crisp on Lydria’s nose and ears. Her breath preceded her into the open as she left the caves.

  High above them, outside the cave mouth of the dragons, several Chags were busy pinching the stone with their fingers and thumbs, creating elaborate designs in deep relief around the entrance to the caves. Everywhere, it seemed, Lydria saw Chag children at play.

  “Hokra, excuse the question, but other than the artists, the farmers, and soldiers, what do your people do?”

  The Chag prince laughed loudly enough to elicit looks from those nearby. “I forget, Wielder, you have only seen the lower levels on the east side of the river. Come with me and I will show you some of what we do.”

  The two of them were left alone as they walked into the eastern cliff, and up several twisting ramps until Hokra unlocked a door Lydria had never noticed before. It was so much a part of the wall, and the light so dim, that she wasn’t sure there were even gaps in the stone to give away its presence.