by Lakshman, V.
“Can we not still accomplish both what you wish and what the land needs?” asked Themun. “The Gate remains and Arek is our best choice.”
The dragon-knight turned to face Themun. “What hides it from mine Sight?”
“His masking, my lord. It blankets anything of the Way around him, including himself.”
The armored creature took in a deep breath then said, “I had thought to meet upon Silbane’s petition for passage to Bara’cor, then I felt thy hatchling swallowed, as if a black maw opened in the Way. The Gate may not be the only danger we face.”
“Can we not ascertain that and answer the need of closing the Gate?”
“I know not. I must feel this Arek, to know where our path lies.” The creature turned and regarded the chamber doors as if it could see through them. “Silbane is strong in the Way.” He paused, surprised that the man had the power to have almost Seen him twice, despite his glamour. He reminded himself again of the role this particular adept was meant to play. “The Conclave prays for his cooperation.”
The lore father looked at the dark-armored dragon-knight and with an ache in his voice said again, “I know we must seal the Gate, but I fear for the lives of Silbane and his apprentice.”
A moment passed, as if the knight weighed the lore father’s words against some other hidden voice, then it rumbled, “Fear will not stay the hand of Lilyth. Already she reaches out, as the shade of thy hatchling portends. She hath many heralds and seeks release.”
Themun nodded sadly, then sat down with the weariness of all the events of these past days on his heart. He was willing to give up Arek, but looked at the dragon-knight and asked directly, “What of Silbane?”
The dragon-knight looked back at the lore father, then looked down. “The Conclave wishes no harm to befall him, but he is a vital part of the tapestry and shall be tested.”
“Tested?”
“Stand steady. It is beyond thy purview now.” He paused, then continued, “I wilt take them both to the Far’anthi Stones near Bara’cor. There, I test Silbane and judge this Arek.”
Themun looked at the dragon-knight, his next words coming out carefully. “And if he is judged wanting?”
The creature shifted its golden gaze, meeting the lore father’s own. “I wilt do what I must, as I have ever done. It will be safer, far from the Isle. Give them thy Finder. It will aid me should Silbane’s apprentice attempt to flee. With it, I can finish what must be done.” With that, the creature took a step forward and faded from sight in midstride, as if he had never been.
Themun Dreys leaned back, wishing against all hope Arek would survive whatever judgment the dragon-knight rendered. He knew he could not tell Silbane and had to trust this creature would act honorably, as it had for the near two centuries he had known it.
He leaned back, knowing the mission to close the Gate at Bara’cor had just changed to something far more serious and deadly.
LEAVING THE ISLE
Watch your opponent.
Watch his feet, his body;
What direction does his weight shift?
Use the mountain stare to learn
The entirety of his behavior,
Then strike at his point of weakness.
—Kensei Tsao, The Lens of Blades
Silbane waited patiently in the courtyard, mentally reviewing the contents of his leather pack for any forgotten items, while the sun rose white and dazzling in the early morning air. He had left word with his apprentice to meet him at sunrise and hoped the boy had enough sense to do so. That hope was quickly diminishing with each passing heartbeat. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he was not surprised to see Themun and Giridian approaching out of the Hall of Adepts.
Under Giridian’s left arm was tucked an oblong box. Silbane nodded to himself in approval. A good choice, he thought. He offered his palm upraised in greeting to the others, and jutted his chin at the box. “Couldn’t help it, could you?”
“I could not,” Giridian answered in return. It was plain to see this mission did not sit well with Giridian, and Silbane understood that, for they had been friends longer than most men lived. “At least I’ll feel better we’re not sending the boy into harm’s way completely unprotected.”
“Unprotected?” Themun looked at the two and said, “Considering recent events, Arek is better at protecting himself than we realize.” He gave a short laugh and looked past Silbane, his eyes searching, “Speaking of that, where is he?”
“Probably still asleep.” Silbane pointedly ignored Themun’s callous rendition of yesterday’s events. On the whole, it felt inappropriate to be acknowledging Arek’s prowess under these circumstances, and to do so now was at the expense of Piter’s memory. He was glad Kisan was not here.
Giridian stepped forward, thankfully breaking the uncomfortable moment, and said with empathy, “Doubtful. His test is cancelled... a friend is dead. Now he’s leaving the Isle for reasons he never could have anticipated. I imagine he never went to bed.”
“Perhaps—” But then the figure of Arek coming out of the Hall, a bag clutched in one hand and walking staff in the other, interrupted Silbane. Even as they watched, he broke into a stumbling run, plainly trying to balance the many various items with the need to hurry. As Arek slid to a stop, Silbane bowed once and asked, “I trust we did not keep you waiting?”
Arek blushed, stammering out an apology while trying, it seemed, to hide behind his own thin staff. A strap chose that moment to betray him, coming undone and spilling half the contents of his pack onto the hard dusty ground. The apprentice fell to his knees in a vain attempt to gather the various knickknacks strewn at his feet.
“I am sorry, Master. There were a few things I wanted to take with me.” Arek kept his eyes down waiting for a rebuke, but seemed surprised to see all the gathered adepts solemn, as if their minds were a thousand leagues away.
“No matter,” Silbane said softly.
He then turned to Themun, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “You’re sure?” He heaved a sigh and continued, “Something doesn’t feel right.”
Themun smiled, but there was little humor in his reply. “Would you rather stay here and allow a rift between our world and Lilyth’s to open?” He watched the emotions play across his friend’s face, but the conclusion was inevitable as the setting sun. “I thought not. You and I are not that different. In the end, duty rules us both.”
Silbane didn’t answer that. He just looked at the lore father for a moment before saying, “If two days pass without word from me, prepare Kisan.”
The two locked eyes for a moment as something unseen passed between them.
“Aye, you have the right of it.” A tired smile pulled at the corners of Themun’s mouth. “Besides, I find I do not have the strength to argue with you anymore.” He clasped his friend on the shoulder and said, “I have one more gift for you.” Before Silbane could respond, Themun reached into his tunic and withdrew a small metal wafer, etched with silver and black runes. “I give you this.”
Silbane’s eyes widened at the sight of the lore father’s gift. “The great dragon gave you this, years ago.”
“True, and now I give it to you,” Themun said. “Perhaps it can help you keep Arek safe.” He smiled then, forcing himself to remain resolute in the face of the decisions he knew might already have been made.
Silbane took the charm in his hand and prepared to break it.
Themun put his own hand over the charm, interrupting his friend. “Wait. Use this to keep you and Arek together.”
“But leaving one half on the Isle guarantees our safe return.” Silbane’s eyes narrowed, for what other reason could this Finder be useful?
Themun looked down and said, “And open a portal between the dangers you face and this Isle? I think not. You worried about keeping Arek safe. This keeps you by his side.”
Silbane’s brows drew together, his eyes flicking back and forth as he thought through the reasoning. Themun’s stance didn’t make sense unless on
e thought about the worst case scenario. In that situation the Finder would most certainly be used to escape, potentially bringing some lethal pursuer to the Isle.
Perhaps, he convinced himself, the lore father is right. He grudgingly nodded, saying, “I’d not want to endanger the children here.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder and motioned to Arek to get ready. He missed the look of sadness Themun quickly blinked away.
Giridian took that moment to step forward and relieve himself of the burden under his arm. Looking up at Silbane he said, “Master Silbane, this is for Arek.”
Knowing what was in the box, Silbane nodded his approval and watched as Giridian traced a symbol in the air. The box flashed blue once then, with a barely audible click, opened. Giridian carefully swung the cover back, revealing a mirror-bright sword, straight with double keen edges. Embedded in the hilt was a small emerald radiating a faint green glow. Smiling, the adept lifted the sword and accompanying sheath, sliding the blade home.
Walking over to the wide-eyed apprentice, Giridian said, “Her name is Tempest. Forged in the fires of Sovereign’s Fall, she has certain healing properties, though none know the exact extent of her power. We do know, however, that she can heal the wielder from grave injury.”
Silbane added, “Know she is powerful. If you touch her with a bare hand, I do not know what will happen, so keep your gloves on. It is doubtful you will be able to use her healing power because of this, but Tempest has other properties as well, such as lightness and anticipation.”
Arek looked at his master and asked, “It can think?”
With a smile, Silbane replied, “She can anticipate what you might do, and it won’t take very long to appreciate this particular benefit. I have seen the way you wield a blade, and she will be deadly in your hands. You are more than ready for her and if needed, I can tap her healing powers. Guard her well and she will guard you well.”
Arek took the blade in his gloved hand, obviously surprised at its lightness. Silbane knew it would feel slightly warm to the touch, almost alive. There was something else as well. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but giving the blade to Arek felt somehow ‘right.’
Looking at the smiling adepts in confusion, Arek blurted, “This is really mine?”
Giridian laughed, a deep sound that seemed to come right from his belly. “Of course, at least until you return.” The comment turned sour in the adept’s throat and he shot a hasty glance filled with remorse to Silbane, then continued awkwardly, “Remember, Arek, the greatest weapons are always forged through sacrifice. In Tempest’s case, legend has it a princess pledged her soul to an angel to save the life of her one true love, binding them together within this blade. Since that time, she protects her wielder from all harm... if one believes old legends. She won’t fight for you, but you won’t be fighting alone with her in your hand.”
Arek didn’t answer, but instead took hold of the leather strap and slung the sword diagonally across his back, securing it there for easy drawing. Then he bowed and moved to Silbane’s side. As he moved, Silbane noted the sword did not dangle or jostle about, as if it clung to him. It must have been an interesting feeling for his apprentice.
Still, Arek had not deigned to thank the adept for the blade, and Silbane made a mental note to deal with this later. He turned and said to Giridian, “A most fitting gift, Adept. Our thanks.”
“Of course, Master Silbane,” Giridian replied awkwardly. “My pleasure.”
Silbane nodded then stooped to get his things. He faced the lore father one last time, but there was little more to be said. Themun’s knowledge of the dangers he and Arek were about to face created an awkward distance between them, a distrust Silbane could feel, but could not understand. It served to make their goodbyes hollow sounding, stilted and out of place, especially for men who had been friends for so long.
Before an uncomfortable silence could fully take hold, Silbane raised a hand in a brief farewell, then turned and made his way to the gate leading out of the council’s demesne. Behind him came Arek, eyes downcast. The boy had not said a word since Giridian’s gift, and though Silbane couldn’t read his mood, it was clear his apprentice was both introspective and sullen.
Neither looked back, and Silbane couldn’t know this would be the last time he would see his friend. If he had, he might have enjoyed the rising sun with Themun for a moment longer, before venturing out into the dangers the world held for him and his young apprentice.
Instead, he walked for a distance in silence, until the dirt road curved away and they were no longer in sight of the gate, then he stopped. His mind went back to Arek’s behavior with Adept Giridian and he asked, “What bothers you, apprentice?”
Arek looked down, apparently not expecting his master to ask the question so directly. “You expect me to believe we’re going on a... secret mission.”
He stopped, confused. He had worried Arek would question the council’s orders or the safety of going, but never considered his apprentice would doubt they were on a mission entirely. “What do you mean?”
Arek turned and faced his master. “Tell me the truth. Are you getting me off the Isle because I am not worthy of testing, or because of what you claim I did to Piter? What happens? Am I taken and left somewhere?” His lips quavered at that, the fear they were indeed abandoning him into the world bringing unwanted tears to his eyes. “I don’t know what to believe, or who to trust.”
Silbane shook his head, never imagining his apprentice could think this way. Then he reminded himself of all that had happened: his test cancelled, Piter’s death. It may indeed seem to Arek that banishment was a real possibility. While he knew Arek and Piter had never been close, the full weight of having been involved in Piter’s death must only now be setting in. Without the ability to read Arek’s emotional state, Silbane had no way of knowing just how close he had come to his young apprentice’s exact fears.
“It was uncharacteristic of you to challenge the lore father last night,” Silbane said.
Arek looked at his master, then said carefully, “I am not sorry for that.”
“No, you aren’t, and that is acceptable. In life, one must not always count on others to look out for one’s own interests.”
Arek’s eyes narrowed as he thought about what his master had just said. “Then you will tell me why I am being sent? The real reason?”
A small, sad smile escaped Silbane’s lips. “We really are on a mission of vital importance. You are not being banished or punished. You have been selected to go with me.”
“Because of this new so-called ‘power’ I have to mask our presence?” Arek finished, doubt clear in his voice.
“Trust me when I say you are like a son to me,” Silbane said. “I will let no harm come to you.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I promise.”
He saw a glimmer of hope in Arek’s eyes, like a small fire caught in a gale. Silbane meant to shelter that fire and see it blossom, succor it against the regret he felt at not speaking of the lore father’s belief that Arek’s touch might disrupt the Gate. That possibility and the sacrifice it might entail, was a bridge Silbane intended to cross when necessary, but only after ascertaining what was going on at Bara’cor. No need to worry his apprentice until he knew exactly what they faced. With that in mind, he changed his tact. “Arek,” he began, “do you know how we plan to get to Bara’cor?”
The question took Arek by surprise. “No, Master, I hadn’t given it much thought. Something quick, or our mission will be meaningless.”
Silbane nodded “Accurate and insightful, if obviously stated. We will be riding Rai’stahn.”
“What’s a ‘rye-stan’?” mumbled Arek, fidgeting with his pack, which threatened to come loose again.
“Rai’stahn,” Silbane emphasized, “is the name of a dragon.”
Turning, the adept continued down the road to the beach, whistling a soft tune. Arek stared after him open-mouthed for a moment before he realized he was fast being left behind. G
rabbing his pack, he ran after his master, catching up with him quickly.
“Dragon!” Arek exclaimed.
“Did the lore father not make the need for urgency most plain? How else would we journey to land so quickly and still keep this Isle a secret?” Silbane stopped for a moment and said, “Look there.”
From their position above the beach, they could see well up and down the coastline. Arek knew this beach line and the rest of their Isle by heart, having played across its face for many years. Silbane pointed to where the beach slowly gave way to cliffs that reached almost to the water’s edge. These had been strictly forbidden to the apprentices, as the water and currents could easily kill someone who slipped and fell in, and apprentices spoke of a vague fear that overcame them as they approached the cliffs.
“We go there, to summon Rai’stahn,” Silbane explained, adding, “and hope he will do our bidding.”
When the boy had nothing further to say, Silbane resumed his pace, slowly making his way down to the sandy beach.
They walked this way for the better part of the morning, with the breeze gradually increasing as they neared the water. Along the way they passed the small homesteads and farms that dotted the Isle, providing sustenance to the inhabitants. As they looked out over the clear blue waters, they could see no other land, and could taste the salt in the thick sea air.
As the sun rose higher, so too did Arek’s mood, or so it seemed to Silbane.
“I acted like a child with Adept Giridian,” said the apprentice suddenly.
Silbane raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “I was a bit disappointed you didn’t thank him.” Silbane looked sidelong at Arek and continued, “But he was once an initiate on the eve of his test. Had his been cancelled, I doubt his behavior would have been any better than yours.”
Slowly the beach gave way to rocky ground and soon they stood near one of the large cliffs, a dark opening at its base resembling the black maw of some forgotten creature. Silbane paused, his eyes searching the deep gloom, he then sat down and made an impromptu camp.
