Trial of the Thaumaturge (Scions of Nexus Book 3)

by Gregory Mattix

  “I too am both alarmed and disheartened by their reach and resources.” Sianna took a sip of the fine wine that had been offered before she launched into her story from the time they had been attacked by assassins in Castle Llantry and forced to flee. Iris and Creel occasionally supplied some bit of information she had overlooked or answered a question of Nardual’s. She had just gotten to the part when she was betrayed and captured at the castle, when an elven servant slipped inside the tent and whispered something to Nardual.

  The king nodded and turned his attention back to Sianna. “It would appear that your friend has woken. I know you have all been concerned about his condition, so please, let us adjourn our discussion for now. We can talk more on the road tomorrow. Go, see your friend, and then rest and recover this night.”

  Sianna thanked him and rose. The others followed her out of the tent. As she went to look in on Taren, she couldn’t help but feel excitement mixed with apprehension.

  ***

  Taren awoke to the low murmur of nearby voices. He paused a moment before opening his eyes, afraid of finding out what kind of shape he would be in. He felt utterly wrung out, similar to the time he had fought the inquisitors in the town square in Ryedale, been shot with a quarrel in the shoulder, and completely exhausted his magic during the battle.

  He cracked his eyelids and saw he was lying on a cot in a mint-green pavilion of a gossamer material. He stared at the ceiling in confusion, allowing memories to slowly resurface: the chaotic battle in the Nebaran encampment, he and Mira left alone as they bought the others time to escape—their fight with Nesnys and being nearly overwhelmed until Sirath’s intervention and sacrifice, followed by their desperate flight into the night—the grip of fear as he realized he would probably die as his strength gave out, then succumbing to oblivion.

  Not dead, but where am I?

  He sat up, feeling weak and dizzy, and looked around. Mira lay on a pallet, sleeping peacefully opposite him, and the sight of his friend brought relief. And, craning his neck farther, he saw seated beside his cot…

  “Welcome back!” Aninyel grinned at him.

  “Aninyel? What…? Where…?” He tried to imagine how he might have ended up back in Fallowin Forest but failed.

  “Drink this. Then we can catch up.” She held up a cup of what looked and smelled like an herbal tea. “This should help restore you after your talent drain.”

  He drank the honeyed brew, which was cool with a subtle minty taste. The drink was tasty and refreshing. After a couple long draughts, he drained off the cup and could already feel some energy returning.

  “Your queen was quite worried about you. Seems you’ve been busy impressing all the highborn ladies of the realm.” Aninyel patted his hand and winked. She wore green-and-dun woodland garb. Her gray-blue hair flowed loosely and shimmered like polished metal in the candlelight. Her large gray eyes twinkled with amusement.

  Taren flushed. “Uh, sure. How did I get here? Is Princess Zylka around somewhere?” He looked around, but just the three of them were in the tent. Quiet voices could be heard from nearby, perhaps an adjacent tent.

  “I’m afraid she’s not. Zylka remained behind as steward of the throne in King Nardual’s absence, so he might attend the important conclave. As to how you got here… Well, that’s a rather long story. Your friends, a few of my rangers, and myself defeated nearly three score of Nebarans who were pursuing you.” She looked rather pleased with herself. “And you slept right through it all! Though it was certainly your quintessential example of quantity over quality. Not a worthy challenger amongst the lot of them. A bit of a disappointment in that regard, I’m afraid. It was, however, worthwhile in rescuing some notable persons, such as Queen Atreus and yourself. As an aside, King Nardual seems impressed with your young queen thus far. I think this bodes well for future alliances.”

  He smiled as he listened to her rambling commentary. “Glad to hear that. Where exactly are we?”

  Aninyel shrugged. “Exactly somewhere along the road to Carran. We should reach it in a couple days. Where’s that big oaf of a cousin of yours?”

  Taren wondered that himself. “Elyas joined the Ketanian army when we arrived in Ammon Nor. This was… Gods, I don’t know. Two, maybe three months past now?” Time was running together, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious. “I hope he’s well… The army fared poorly against the imperial forces.” Sabyl said he’d been taken prisoner after Nesnys defeated him in a duel. Please, look after him, Grandmother.

  “So I’ve heard. Don’t move—your queen wanted to be informed when you awakened.” Aninyel walked over to the tent flap and whispered quietly to someone outside, then she came back to flop down on the grass beside Taren’s cot again. “Big meeting going on in there, but a bit too much talk for my liking—I volunteered to keep an eye on you instead.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  At that moment, Taren realized he was wearing a fresh set of elven robes such as he had worn back in Egrondel, although these were a blue color, nearly the same as the ones from Nexus, which were surely ruined. “You didn’t, ah…” He plucked at the robes, face growing hot.

  Aninyel gave him an innocent-looking smile. “Undress and bathe you?”

  “Well… yes.” He tried to keep from flushing worse, but that was a losing battle.

  She laughed, like musical chimes to his ear, and he grinned despite his embarrassment. He’d missed his elven friend.

  “I left that up to the real servants. Although I’ll have you know I made a fantastic servant myself back in Egrondel.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” he replied, still maintaining his grin.

  “However… I may have supervised the process… just a bit.” She gave him a lascivious wink then burst out laughing once more at Taren’s discomfort.

  “What has happened while I was unconscious, other than a battle against pursuing Nebarans?” he asked when they had both stopped laughing.

  “Well, from the way I hear it, you’ve got her to thank for your survival.” She nodded at Mira, who remained asleep. “I like her already… Seems she’s quite the lioness when it comes to protecting your backside.” Aninyel then told what she knew of how he and Mira had escaped the camp, Mira somehow sharing his wounds to keep him alive, then Ferret and the others finding him, and eventually meeting up with Sianna and Creel. The whole group were pursued until the elves came to their aid.

  “Three score, huh? That’s impressive even for you.”

  Aninyel beamed. “I did have some help. Your friends aren’t too bad in a scrap either.”

  Mira woke, blinked in confusion, then sat up. She looked over at Taren then smiled, her relief evident.

  “I hear you saved my arse again, Mira.”

  She shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I was simply doing my duty. Although this was a close one.” She slowly got to her feet, stretched, then came over to stand before him. After an awkward moment, she leaned down and gave him an embrace.

  Taren hugged her back. “What did I ever do to deserve such a loyal friend?”

  Mira smiled, looking pleased, and perched on the cot beside him.

  The tent flap stirred, and Creel came inside, followed by Ferret and Sianna.

  “Good to see you up, lad,” Creel said. He clasped hands with Taren.

  “Thank—oof.” He was cut off by Ferret’s hug, her enthusiasm squeezing the breath from his lungs.

  “Easy there, lass. He’s just recovered,” Creel said with a chuckle.

  Ferret stepped away, then Sianna stood before him. She looked regal and lovely, wearing a cream-and-emerald gown of elven style. Her auburn hair was combed out and glimmered in the candlelight, her green eyes sparkling with warmth to match her smile.

  “I’m happy to see you well, Taren. I… We all have you to thank for our rescue. You and Mira both.” She reached out a hand, and he took it. She gave him an awkward handclasp with both of hers, looking as though she’d had something else in mind but was being mind
ful of proper etiquette.

  Aninyel had no such qualms, however. “Aw, just go ahead and give him a big hug like the others did, Your Majesty.”

  Sianna blushed and looked as though she would draw away but then took a calming breath and did embrace him, although it was brief and as proper as she could manage. She was warm and soft and smelled good. Taren didn’t want the embrace to end.

  “See, that was worth it, right?” Aninyel regarded the two with a big grin after Sianna stepped away.

  Taren saw the others hiding smiles too. He cleared his throat. “Well, now that greetings are taken care of, where does all this leave us?”

  Sianna met his eyes, and he saw strength and determination there—that of a queen, not a frightened young woman on the run. “We’ll make Carran in a couple days and then hold the conclave, during which we shall make our plans as to how to defeat this scum and drive them from our lands.”

  Taren nodded, the unfamiliar sensation of hope blossoming in his heart. Sianna seemed a queen in more than just name, strong and confident, and he began to think for the first time that if the elves and dwarves joined them, they just might have some chance at overcoming Nesnys and her army.

  Chapter 16

  As her friends rode with the elven procession, Ferret found herself much of the time walking beside Kulnor, who sat on the back of a wagon. He disliked horses, and the elves had no ponies for his use. Although he walked at times, with his short legs, he had difficulty matching the quick, tireless pace set by the elves. She felt a camaraderie with the dwarf, who was an oddity, out of place among the others, much as she often felt.

  “You said your queen’s name is Hammerhelm?” Ferret asked Kulnor.

  “Aye, Sioned Hammerhelm, Queen of Silver Anvil Hall and a Shining Blade of Reiktir himself.” His eyes were filled with a faraway look that Ferret associated with fondness or even worship.

  “What’s a Shining Blade?”

  “Reiktir’s order of paladins. They minister with axes and hammers against evil.” He grinned. “Unlike us priests, they have a strict code of honor and discipline and all that. Too much nonsense for me. I simply tend to our host o’ faithful and smite those that require smitin’.”

  Ferret nodded, thinking she’d like to see one of the underground dwarven strongholds someday once the kingdom was at peace again—an elven city too, for that matter. A proper bard should travel the lands and learn all she could of different cultures, especially those appearing in the ballads she planned to compose someday. “You ever hear of a Waresh Hammerhelm?”

  Kulnor’s face darkened. “Where did ye hear that name?”

  “Saw it on a tomb in Nexus of the Planes.”

  “A tomb, ye say? So the madman be dead?” Kulnor looked surprised but not displeased by the news.

  “Aye, he was apparently some big hero in the Battle of Nexus.”

  “That so?” The dwarf stroked his beard thoughtfully.

  “So you knew him, then?” She was burning with curiosity to solve the mystery of Waresh. During her time in Nexus, she’d learned of his deeds since he joined up with Nera and the others before the battle, where he eventually sacrificed himself in redemption for a past betrayal, but she knew little of his earlier days.

  “Me? I was just a youngun, but aye, I remember the bastard. Was me brother’s best friend, and Waresh got him killed on that fool quest to reclaim Torval’s Hold. Everyone else, including me brother, died in the doing, yet Waresh alone survived. Came back a madman, murdered his parents—the king and queen—along with many others, burned down half the hall, then fled into the night like a common cutthroat. Only by Reiktir’s blessing were Sioned and meself away at seminary in Stonespur Citadel. Otherwise, we’d likely have been killed too, her especially.”

  “Oh,” Ferret said, momentarily speechless. “I’m, uh, sorry to hear that. About your brother and king and queen and all.”

  Kulnor waved her apology away. “Bah, it’s old history by now. Ye had no way of knowin’ about it.”

  “’Twas the axe, the way I hear it.”

  “Eh?”

  “He found a magical axe that was cursed… scrambled his wits, you know? I’m not saying that’s an excuse for his crimes, but doesn’t seem like one honored as a hero of Nexus would’ve just done all those terrible deeds for no reason.”

  Kulnor grunted noncommittally, though his earlier anger was replaced by a look of curiosity. “Could account for his madness, I reckon. I remember hearin’ about an axe he brought back from the wyrm’s treasure. What else did ye find out about Waresh in Nexus? I think me queen might be eager to hear news of her brother.”

  Ferret was happy to tell him, as she imagined any proper bard would be.

  ***

  “I see you skulking around over there, Taren,” Ferret called, smiling inwardly at his reaction.

  Taren jumped, looking around guiltily as if caught red-handed picking someone’s pocket, before he relaxed upon spotting her. He had left the tent he shared with Creel and Kulnor and approached Sianna’s tent before stopping prior to rounding the front, as though reconsidering his actions. Ferret had spotted him from a distance while aimlessly strolling near the edge of camp.

  “I was about to request a meeting,” he explained when she approached, “with Her Majesty and the others, to tell them what I learned in Nexus from Mother and Sabyl. You haven’t mentioned any of that last conversation we had in Nexus before leaving, have you?”

  “Nay, it hasn’t really come up. So much else has been going on.” She was a bit surprised at herself for not having mentioned it sooner to anyone. Creel had been out of sorts and not much in the mood for conversation, and Ferret wasn’t that close to any of the others save Taren and Mira.

  Taren nodded. “Will you round up the others if you see them? Mira and Creel and Kulnor perhaps?”

  “Aye. Her Majesty’s tent?”

  “If she agrees, which I think she will.”

  Ferret went to find the others. She and Mira shared a tent, and the monk was meditating out back, sitting in the grass as was customary for her. After a few minutes, she tracked down Creel and Kulnor, found sitting on a rock and sharing Creel’s flask while talking in low tones. All three readily agreed to join them.

  Rafe and Jahn had apparently appointed themselves Sianna’s bodyguards over the past day or two, the pair standing at the entrance of the queen’s tent, and they waved Ferret and the others inside with cordial greetings.

  Inside the spacious pavilion, graciously loaned to Sianna by Nardual, Taren and the queen were already talking. The ever-present Iris was at Sianna’s side. Ferret was surprised to find Nardual and Aninyel with them, apparently invited at Sianna’s discretion. The group were sharing wine and some type of elven sweetmeats that looked tantalizing.

  “Have a seat,” Sianna said. “Taren has news to share that affects us all. Some of you may have already heard parts or most of it, but I think it important we all know as much as possible and plan accordingly. Go ahead, Taren.” Her smile seemed a bit too friendly for a queen to a subject, in Ferret’s estimation, something she filed away to possibly tease Taren about later.

  “While I was in Nexus,” Taren said, “my mother and grandmother confirmed some details I had suspected and also imparted some new information. Nesnys is my mother’s half sister, and she apparently holds a blood feud against Mother for matters unresolved between them before I was born. We suspect this entire war is a means of distraction, to keep all eyes averted from the true prize—trying to seize Nexus and wrest it from Mother’s control.”

  “Your mother rules Nexus?” Aninyel asked, her eyes wide. “I’ve heard tell of the Lady of Twilight, a figure as mighty as a god by some estimations.”

  Taren winced. “She does rule it. I’d prefer we keep that to ourselves, however.”

  Sianna apparently hadn’t known that fact either, for she was staring at Taren as if he’d descended before her on a moonbeam. After a moment, she recovered her composure. “Yes,
of course we will, Taren.”

  “Your secret won’t leave this tent,” Nardual assured him.

  Taren looked relieved. “Thank you. I feel I should apologize for my family’s role in this bloodshed and chaos, unintentional though it may be. It’s awful that so many innocents are swept up in Nesnys’s schemes for vengeance.”

  Ferret was as surprised as anyone when Mira spoke up, saying “You’ve no control over your heritage.”

  The others murmured agreement, and Taren gave Mira a grateful smile before continuing. “Yet it’s my duty to somehow bring an end to this war and try to set things right again. We suspect the war is a ploy to try to capture me, as the Inquisition has already attempted, and use me as leverage against my mother. Failing that, we believe it likely Shaol will order Nesnys to enact another objective of theirs: a machine exists that the Engineer and his minions built millennia ago… something called the Tellurian Engine. It can be accessed only through the Hall of the Artificers. It is imperative that they do not activate this machine, for it could not only destroy the whole of Easilon but disrupt the current order to the multiverse. I’ve been charged with locating and destroying a control rod for the portal so the plane containing the Tellurian Engine cannot be accessed. My road leads to the Hall of the Artificers once again.” He looked at Ferret and smiled. “I was already going to take Ferret, as I promised her, to try to get her restored. Our travels will take us to a couple different planes. I know Mira will join me also.” He turned to Creel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but will you join us? I was bade to tell you your path leads there… I’m assuming you know what that means.”

  Creel took a sharp breath. He was quiet a moment, studying his clasped hands as he leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Aye, lad, I’ve had an inkling now that my path is meant to follow yours. Till the end.” He looked up and glanced at Ferret a moment before meeting Taren’s eye, his face grave. “I’ll accompany you,” he said simply.