The Eighth Born: Book 1 of the Pankaran Chronicles

by C. Night

  Rhyen pushed away his chair from the table and leapt up. “I’m going for a walk,” he said roughly, and fairly sprinted out of the room before anyone could object. He hurried down the grand staircase and blasted out the door. His Opposite was overwhelmed by his disgust and grief with himself, and the desire to wield was very slight. But Rhyen knew from experience that performing a tricky piece of magic, really having to work to find the right words and let the cold numbness seep over his churning thoughts, would clear his mind and ease his feelings until he felt nothing. And only once he felt nothing could he accept his decision.

  He barreled down the first few streets but slowed when he reached the main avenue. He needed to wield. He remembered just in time that the Zirites were searching for him, a sorcerer, and so he carefully checked to make sure his wielding would not be seen. The sun was almost overhead, and there was no one in sight, everyone having already retreated into the cool sandstone buildings that offered shade and respite from the heat. The sunlight reflected off the gleaming streets and courtyards and burned his eyes, but for once he was grateful. Squinting and shielding his watery eyes from the sun was an excellent cover for the torrent of emotions that flooded through and out of him.

  The breeze was not as hearty as it had been when they were travelling through the massive city. Rhyen suddenly wished he was up high, on the roofs of the tall state buildings that lined the main road, where he could see the various banners and ribbons caught high in a wind that evaded him this close to the ground. He thought carefully about what he wanted to do and exhaled slowly as he let the cold overtake his mind. He crouched ever so slightly so that his knees were bent, and then, when his focus was complete, he was ready. “Jump,” he whispered. He felt the magic, so deliciously sweet, as it channeled through him, and he leapt into the air. He wielded himself away from the ground until he was soaring upwards. He landed lightly on the roof. Rhyen felt the magic stop moving through him, but it drew out slowly, like friendly fingers that lingered over his skin.

  Rhyen caught his breath as he beheld the view. The city was stretched before him, the third wealthy level now dollhouse sized and growing gradually tinier as the buildings crept down to the sea until the people were no more than scurrying ants below him. The sea itself was a myriad of colors, all sparkle and shimmer as the wide blue surface reflected the glorious sun as it crowned the sky. Rhyen tried to ignore the multitude of specks that were black and red bannered ships. He closed his eyes and felt the warm wind ruffle his hair, the salt kiss his face.

  There was no shade on the roof, and he was so near the sky he felt he could reach out his hand and pluck the sun like an orange. But the breeze caressed him and, though it was warm, it broke the stifling heat. Rhyen was very comfortable as he stood there, enjoying the view, letting go of his confused emotions and feeling the torrent of thoughts ease and still in his mind.

  He didn’t stay for too long. He was feeling much calmer, and his stomach was screaming for something other than vegetables and fruit. He patted his pockets and was relieved to find that he had some money on him, and so decided to stop in one of the fancy restaurants grouped around flowerpots at every corner on the third level.

  Rhyen glanced down, checking for people. When he assured himself that the street was clear, he quickly cleared his mind. “Down,” he muttered, and he stepped off the roof, enjoying the exhilarating sensation of falling lightly through the air until his toes scuffed the ground and he landed heavily on his heels. He shook himself free of the magic and winced at his bruised soles. He had never wielded himself like that before, and he appreciated it immensely, but would have to work on his landing before doing it again.

  He slunk into the shade of the closest restaurant and ordered the first meat entrée he saw. He leaned stiffly back into the wire woven chair, groaning a little under his breath. He was feeling very sore after his bout of wielding—apparently wielding so much against oneself took much out of a person. But strangely, he was not tired, which meant that he hadn’t even come close to exceeding his limit. Rhyen considered this as he applied himself heartily to the beef and rice, smothered in creamy sauce.

  When he returned, Cazing was teaching Avarek cards and Thom was dozing with a book opened in his lap. “You’re back!” Cazing exclaimed, his eyes searching Rhyen’s face. Rhyen smiled reassuringly at his master, who grinned back, relieved to find Rhyen returned to his normal self. “And just in time, Avarek is ready for his first challenger.” He turned to the young gnome and smirked. “Rhyen is terrible, so he’ll be good practice.”

  Rhyen rolled his eyes as he poured himself some water. Even walking only a few streets had parched him in this heat. He settled down and sighed good-naturedly as he picked up his cards.

  “Is Caliena back yet?” he asked gloomily after Avarek had won half his pocket money. “You should play with her.” The gnome scooped the money across the table into his palm, a small smile thawing his wooden expression and turning up the corners of his mouth, his eyes bright and gleeful.

  “Not yet,” Cazing replied lazily. He was smoking contentedly from a deep lounging chair. “And it’s just as well. We need to go over what we are going to say to the king. We see him tomorrow, so we don’t have much time. Hopefully, he will listen to reason.”

  “I am not so certain about that,” Thom said. Rhyen hadn’t noticed him wake. “I have not seen the king in many years. He no longer looks to the advisors of his fathers, and it is hard even for his inner council to acquire an audience with him. One only has to look around at the dramatic increase of Zirite presence in the capital to know that he is no longer a reasonable man.”

  Cazing shook his head. “We’ve heard that he’s gone mad, and the evidence is piled that way against him. But I knew both his grandfather and father very well, and met him when he was a child. Hopefully he will remember that.” Thom’s expressionless face betrayed the slightest disbelief in the miniscule rise of one eyebrow. Cazing laughed. “Well, then hopefully we can stir his advisors into action,” he consented.

  “We should decide what we are going to say to him,” Rhyen suggested. “Between the four of us, we should be able to impress upon him the danger Conden is in, and he will be able to increase the defenses and prepare.”

  Avarek shook his head. “It will only be the two of you. Just the sorcerers.”

  Rhyen looked at Cazing for confirmation. His master nodded. “But we will have a good go at convincing him, Rhyen.”

  Rhyen raised his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we come up with a plan, then?”

  Cazing scratched his chin, forehead wrinkled in thought. “I think,” he answered slowly, “that it would be best if we tell him nothing of our mission. We do not want the Faceless Taida to know what we intend, and a king’s court is the surest place to find enemy spies.”

  Rhyen smiled. “Fair point.”

  “We should just tell him simply that war is brewing and back it up with stories of insurgence in the Zirite garrisons, pointing out the obvious fact that there is an unreasonable number of soldiers milling about the capital.”

  “And a blockade in the bay,” Avarek added.

  “Do you really think that is going to be enough to convince him?” Rhyen asked in disbelief.

  Cazing grinned. “No. It is very hard to convince a king of anything you can’t shove under his very nose. But I hope it will be enough to spurn his advisors and generals to action. If anything, they can assign extra watches to the Zirith soldiers stationed here in the city. Their movements alone will tell us how close all-out war really is. And perhaps that will convince him.”

  They all looked at each other helplessly. “There’s really no point to seeing the king, is there?” Rhyen asked quietly. “If he’s let all this happen, nothing we can say will convince him to act otherwise. And even if we could, there’s no time to make a difference.”

  Cazing hung his head. “You’re right, Rhyen. But we have
to try.”

  Rhyen nodded. “Well, what about the other countries?”

  “I think you should remind the king of his allies,” Thom put in. “Urge him to send word invoking their allegiances. Hopefully his advisors will hear the wisdom in that course of action, and well send letters on his majesty’s behalf. That should be sufficient warning to their governments, and might solidify a stance against Taida and whatever allies he has for Zirith.”

  “We are fortunate to be rich in friends with positions of authority around the world,” Avarek said. “For our part, we will send messages warning them personally, and they can use what influence they have to prepare.”

  Rhyen was by no means a strategist, and he freely admitted his inexperience with politics, governments, and war. But to him the plan sounded feeble, though he supposed it was all they could do for now. Everything else was contingent on the king’s reply to their news and advice. “What happens if the king asks us to stay here and help? We can’t refuse a king.”

  Cazing laughed. “I have, many times. But if he asks, we will say we have pressing magical business that requires our presence elsewhere. Even kings are not foolish enough to try and command sorcerers to stay when they intend to leave.”

  Rhyen was less than reassured by this. He had a hard enough time reconciling the idea that he was actually going to see a king when royals were only a glittering notion to him, or something out of a storybook. Refusing such a figure seemed downright impossible.

  “He will not ask,” Thom said, his voice heavy.

  There was silence for awhile. All four were deep in thought. Finally Rhyen cleared his throat. “There’s something else. We’ve been told by good sources that the Zirites are searching for me.” He swallowed. “Just me. And they know I have a piece of the Pankara Stone.”

  Both gnomes looked less than surprised and nodded slowly. “We’ve heard this too.”

  “Do any of you know why?” he asked, looking between his master and the two gnomes.

  But at that moment they heard excited footsteps dash up the stairs, and a second later Caliena opened the door, knocking as she did so on the heavy, silk-papered wood. Her cheeks were pink with sun and excitement. She smiled widely when Cazing gestured for her to enter. For once, Rhyen was unhappy to see her. He wanted answers, and he strongly felt that the three could provide them, but knew they would refrain from doing so now that she was in the room. But she beamed at him, and he smiled back, pretending to be glad to see her, for none of this was her fault and he didn’t want to take out his frustration on her.

  “How did you like the market?” Thom asked kindly.

  “It was fascinating!” she said, flushing. “Thank you for providing a guide.”

  “Of course,” he replied, bowing his head.

  “Did you get anything special?” Cazing asked.

  “Mostly sweets and food,” Caliena admitted, laughing. “But I did find some beautiful scarves. The ladies in the city wrap them around their heads to keep the sun off.”

  “Looks like it didn’t quite work,” Rhyen teased, nodding to her sunburned cheeks.

  She made a face at him. “I didn’t find them until the very end,” she retorted loftily. She looked around at the card-strewn table. “Who’s playing?”

  “You and me, if you like,” Avarek answered, the corner of his mouth pulling up in almost a smile.

  She grinned back and flopped into the chair across from him. “What game?”

  They began playing, and Rhyen jerked his head at his master. The two sorcerers withdrew from the card table and made their way across the room.

  “Should we ask her about the number of pieces now?” Rhyen muttered quietly to Cazing.

  His master vigorously declined. “Later tonight. Let her have her fun now, but we’ll need to know before we meet with the king.”

  Rhyen ran his hand through his hair. It was getting long. He’d have to cut it again soon. “I suppose we’ll be leaving soon after we see the king.”

  “I suppose so,” Cazing replied. “We’ll need to head south, following the shard.”

  “Should we warn Caliena to be ready to leave?”

  Cazing watched her unhappily. “No.”

  “Then you don’t think she should come?” Rhyen personally thought that Caliena should stay behind. They could hire a guard to return her safely to the Low Country, out of Corna, which would surely become war-torn in the near future. Though he would miss her terribly, he would feel better knowing she was safe. But he knew the deep attachment Cazing had to her, and he had thought his master would rather have her with him, where he could personally protect her.

  Cazing frowned, his eyes sad. “I wish she could stay with us forever, but what we will be doing is far too dangerous for her. I’ve asked Thom to keep her with him, where she will be safe.” Then he smiled. “But she will not want to stay behind. She’ll try to come with us. She’s too smart not to figure us out, so we can’t give her any clues in the meantime.”

  “But what about when the war breaks out in Corna?” Rhyen asked. “We should send her back to the Low Country, instead of leaving her here.”

  “Thom has already thought of that. After we go, they are going to leave as well. He will drop her back in Maypole on his way home to Gefaria.” Gefaria was a southeastern gnomish kingdom that Rhyen knew of only by legend. It was very small and difficult to get to, but it made sense that the old gnome would make the journey to get out of the war zone. “Of course I’ll give her enough money to live on and repair her old home,” Cazing added.

  “I think that’s for the best.” Rhyen was already missing her and watched out of the corner of his eye as she skillfully won back all of the money Avarek had taken from him earlier. “Avarek is coming with us, though, isn’t he?” Rhyen was quickly becoming friends with the young gnome, and his companionship would be welcome on their dangerous journey, as well as his intelligence and strategy.

  “I hope so,” Cazing answered. “I like him, but more than that, his inherent magic would be most useful.”

  “What is it?” Rhyen asked.

  “He can understand any language, any form of communication.”

  Rhyen raised his eyebrows, deeply impressed. Such a skill would be most useful as they ventured across the kingdoms. “Can all gnomes do that?”

  “Avarek is stronger than most. He can even speak many of the languages. Gnomes are more machinists and inventors. Their magic is that of knowledge. Elves, for example, are creatures whose inherent magical ability is geared toward nature, growing and living things. That’s why Rode is such a successful horse breeder and trader. But gnomes understand that which isn’t alive—machines and technology. Thom made his living inventing the underground here in Corna.”

  “What underground?”

  “It’s a network beneath the city, miles and miles of piping and pumps that direct the water flow in and out of Corna.” Cazing smiled at Rhyen’s expression. “Storm drains, sewers, wells, and the like. He designed it all, and that is how he became advisor to the last king—he was the city designer and planner, and his inventions were so good that he was invited to join the council.

  “Avarek has similar abilities. But since the gnomish magic is that of knowledge, they inherently understand how many things work, including language. And Avarek’varThom is the strongest gnome I’ve ever seen. I hope he does come with us.”

  When Avarek had lost all his money, Caliena and he called a friendly truce. “I’ll teach you Blostendine some day, lady,” he said with almost a smile.

  “What’s Blostendine?” she asked, grinning.

  “A gnomish gambling game. You’ll like it, but I will too, because I’ll have a shot at winning.”

  “Caliena,” Cazing called. “Would you like to take a walk with me before dinner?”

  “Of course!” She sprang to her feet.

&nb
sp; “Should I come?” Rhyen didn’t really want to pry into Caliena’s painful memories, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to any more crying. Cazing must have seen that written across his face, for he smiled at his apprentice and clapped his shoulder.

  “I’ll handle it,” he said quietly. Rhyen sighed with relief. The old sorcerer turned to Caliena. His eyes lit up when he beheld her. Rhyen was positive that his master looked upon Caliena like his daughter, and he knew his master was not looking forward to making her relive her painful past anymore than he had been. Rhyen admired the old sorcerer, who was pushing aside, as all wielders must, his personal feelings for the greater good. Which was the lesser evil: doing a bad thing for a good reason, or a good thing for a bad reason?

  * * *

  They were gone a long time, but returned in time for dinner. Caliena had looped her hand through Cazing’s elbow and was smiling despite her still watery red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face. Rhyen had no idea what Cazing had said to her, but his master nodded at him, indicating that he had found the answer he was looking for.

  After dinner, Rhyen found himself hoping that once again Thom would dismiss Caliena so that they might talk. He desperately wanted to know why the soldiers were looking for him, but it seemed like Thom was avoiding that conversation. Caliena stayed with them as long as they were all awake, playing games with Avarek and Cazing and occasionally Rhyen. Consequently, there was no time to discuss the matter, and when Rhyen finally went to bed, he was feeling aggrieved and bitter.

  Chapter 25

  Rhyen slept poorly that night. He had had a disquieting feeling of foreboding brewing in his stomach alongside his little ball of nerves since they had arrived in the third level, and it translated into his dreams, giving him bizarre nightmares. He kept waking drenched in sweat, and the warm air did little to ease his discomfort.

  But Rhyen, of course, woke early as ever, and alert despite his restless night. Cazing too was vigilant, and the two sorcerers left before the rest of the household had done little more than stir.