The Fifth Magic (Book 1)

by Brian Rathbone

  * * *

  Kenward's snores filled the very hall where Catrin had once found Imeteri's fish. Not far from Catrin's quarters, these accommodations had been available and made sense on every level. Still, Sevellon hated them, no matter how much Kenward spoke about history. The place reminded him of a prison cell, something he'd spent his entire life trying to avoid. The time or two he'd spent in a cell had been brief and not for stealing. Sevellon did his best to shake off the feeling and decided not to count his many failings. On this night, he needed to focus on his strengths. A certain sense of invincibility was required to pull off something this dangerous.

  Doubts threatened his confidence even as he removed painted clothes from beneath his cot. At least this room had given him a place to hide the things he'd been gathering to make this possible.

  Memories also plagued him. Not so long ago, he'd been happy. With the wind in his face and nothing but clear skies around him. Flying aboard the Serpent had been the most enjoyable time of his entire life. Though he'd been under Trinda's employ, he belonged on Kenward's crew. They were a rare breed. Never before had Sevellon known others possessing bravery and audacity to match his own. They made him proud.

  Up until this point in his life, finding a way out of the back alleys he'd grown up in had been among his greatest accomplishments. What he was about to attempt was perhaps the most daring act yet. If he did fail, he would know he'd never let fear stand in the way of helping those for whom he cared.

  In a way, he also knew he'd be forcing their hands. Trinda had made it comfortable for them here, and the motivation to find a way out was far less urgent than Sevellon desired. Perhaps another man would have let others decide his fate or might even have enlisted help, but what Sevellon did best, he did alone. Still Kenward's snores echoed in the hall. Sevellon was thankful for them as they covered any sounds he made changing in to clothes he'd painted to match the mottled surface of the keep's inner walls. He wore no shoes and instead painted his feet and face and hands. A cloth covered his hair and the back of his neck, and he tied knots at the bottom of his pant legs to make them tight and to keep them from moving.

  The halls were dark, but night vision was among Sevellon's strengths. The child queen had hidden the herald globes she horded, save on occasions when having them visible suited her needs. Sevellon had a good idea where they might be, but herald globes were not what he sought. Their absence from the halls aided him greatly. Since the keep was now reliant on torches and oil lamps for light, most were extinguished during the night, leaving occasional pools of light to expose him. It was not the initial part of this journey he feared, though even discovery by his allies would take some explaining.

  Nearing the great hall, Sevellon slowed. A single shadow crossed the torchlight surrounding the entrance to the hall. The guard remained almost perfectly still, and Sevellon suspected he was sleeping, but patience was among his most trusty tools. He waited and watched. After a hundred breaths counted, Sevellon crept closer. He moved noiselessly, but it was probably unnecessary at that particular moment, since Jehregard's snoring drowned out all other sound. The dragons were on Sevellon's side. Each one taxed the hold's supplies. Feeding them had been among the greatest challenges. No one knew how long the creatures could survive without food, which created a great sense of urgency.

  Kyrien had not helped his case when he disappeared into the God's Eye since he could presumably survive off the fish the mighty underground lake had been stocked with. There was some debate as to where Catrin's dragon had gone. His disappearance caused anxiety among his companions, but Catrin appeared unconcerned. And Sevellon, too, could tell exactly where the dragon had gone from scratches on the stone walls of the hall leading to the God's Eye.

  Slipping past the sleeping guard, Sevellon looked over to where Onin slept. His tierre rested on the stone floor, and Onin's feet could be seen sticking out the sides. Somewhere in the hall was the feral queen, but Sevellon tried not to think about that. Moving perhaps more swiftly than was wise, the thief made his way toward the hall leading to the kitchens. This route was dangerous--well lit in some places and in use during all hours of the day. Sevellon had considered taking the longer, less-used route through the God's Eye, but there would be no hiding his passage on the barges, and the thought of swimming in that lake terrified him. Kyrien might mistake him for a fish. Few things in this world truly frightened Sevellon, but dragons did the job. He'd have conquered his fear had it been practical, but getting wet would only have ruined his camouflage.

  Using his mental image of the halls and all the places he'd seen where he might hide if the need arose, Sevellon moved with haste. Just before reaching the kitchens, his pulse quickened. Ducking into an alcove, the thief avoided a passing patrol. In the darkness behind the towering statue filling most of the alcove, Sevellon's bare feet were warmed and illuminated by the glowing rune beneath them. More than just a little disturbed, the master thief darted into the hall the instant the patrol moved beyond his immediate area. They could have looked back and seen him, but it was a risk worth taking. The sooner he moved, the less likely he'd encounter the next patrol. The smithies were silent, and Sevellon moved with ease. The supply room, however, boasted two guards.

  These men were neither sleeping nor inattentive. Sevellon suspected this was a short-watch duty station, where the guards were rotated every few hours, keeping fresh eyes on the runes and the passersby at all times. No matter what Trinda would have them think, she was tracking their every movement. Sevellon smiled--almost every movement.

  Retrieving a pebble from his robe, Sevellon threw it to the far side of the storeroom, not far from the runes. It made a small tick when it struck stone. Both guards looked in that direction. It was enough to get Sevellon into the room. This was the part of being a thief most couldn't stomach. Hiding in plain sight, he relied on the frailties of human perception. The brain sees what it wants to see, an illusionist once told him. Those words had changed his life.

  A lesser thief would have lost his nerve and bolted, but Sevellon stood not two paces from an alert guard. He slowed his breathing and employed his practiced skill of remaining almost perfectly still. Time passed sluggishly. Sevellon started to wonder if he'd been wrong about the short watches, but it must have been his impatience skewing the flow of time. Everything, he reminded himself, was a matter of perception and perspective.

  By the time a pair of young men came to relieve the current guards, Sevellon himself was having trouble keeping from falling asleep. The sight of the fresh guards brought him to immediate attention, and he did what he could to clear the fog from his mind. The man standing next to Sevellon saw the guards an instant after Sevellon did, and he stepped out to meet them.

  "It's about time," he said.

  "The queen has us working in that special project," one of the approaching men said. "Orders are to stand double watches."

  "It would've been nice if someone told us," the guard still standing across from Sevellon said. He was staring directly at the thief, yet he did not see. Sevellon, not for the first or even the hundredth time, thanked The Amazing Kells for teaching him. Even knowing, Sevellon nearly bolted. The guard held a spear as tall as he was and would have no problem skewering the thief were he to realize what he was looking at.

  After a painfully long wait, the second guard, too, abandoned his post. For the briefest instant, the newcomer's view of the room was blocked by the guards leaving, which was all the time Sevellon needed. The lights had ruined his night vision, though, and he stubbed his toe on a protruding crate. Biting his lip, he moved to the next hiding place he'd previously scouted.

  "Did you hear something?" one of the new guards asked, and Sevellon hurried, hoping no one noticed the trail of blood coming from his lacerated toe.

  Human nature once again played to his advantage. "I didn't hear anything," the other guard said.

  "Must've just been mice," the first said. "We need to bring a couple cats up from the meadow,
so they can catch 'em."

  Sevellon heard no more from the two and did his best to staunch the bleeding. He was in trouble, and he knew it. Already he was behind schedule and had almost been caught. The most dangerous part of this journey was yet to come. The ability to overcome such fears was what had made him such a good thief, and Sevellon moved down back halls and disused corridors. There were more of these than well-used corridors in this part of the keep. Dragonhold could hold many times more people than it currently did. They still hadn't figured out quite how to grow enough food within the keep to feed so many.

  Using everything he could to his favor, Sevellon made up some time on his way to one of the most heavily guarded places in the hold, second only to the control room. When he reached the junction just before the hall leading to Trinda's chambers, Sevellon listened--silence.

  Slowly he crept around the corner, and he could see the shadows of two guards dancing across the stone in the torchlight. A wispy drapery filled the doorway to the queen's chambers, and the torches burned low, casting small pools of light. These guards were nowhere near as alert as those who guarded the entrance to the inner hold. Again human nature. Those within the inner hold assumed the more closely guarded tunnels leading in meant they stood guard for appearances only. Guards who think they are in no danger tended to look more like these two young men.

  Despite their inattentiveness, neither was fully asleep, which was less than convenient. But Sevellon had come up with a solution long before getting to this point. Keep it simple, he reminded himself, and take advantage of human nature. He drew a second pebble from his pants pocket, and he tossed it down the hall, past the guards. Both men heard it and looked. Sevellon moved as quickly as he could, the narrow halls now an advantage. With his hands pressed against one wall and his feet against the opposite wall, he suspended himself in the darkness above the guards. His arms and legs trembled by the time they had lapsed back into a collective stupor. Only one stirred when Sevellon grabbed the ledge above the doorway, swung himself down, and slipped inside the child queen's personal apartments. After landing silently, the curtain moving in his wake, Sevellon crouched down beside a footstool. The guard peered inside with no alarm on his face. Seeing nothing out of place, he looked back out at the empty hall.

  Having been unable to get this far in his scouting mission, Sevellon was now in unfamiliar territory, and he hoped he knew what he was doing.

  * * *

  Nightfall atop the black spike was perhaps the most frightening thing Durin had ever experienced. He thanked the gods Strom and Osbourne were with him, or he might have gone insane. The place was creepy during the daytime, but at night it was terrifying. Heavy cloud cover left them in near complete darkness, and he was afraid to move for fear of falling over the edge, despite knowing they had moved to the center of the structure before the darkness enveloped them.

  There was nothing here but black rock and salt water. Again, he asked himself why the dragons would leave them there if not for some purpose. Strom and Osbourne had walked the edges, searching for signs of an entrance but found none. When Osbourne had lain down on his belly and slid himself over each side, Strom holding his ankles, Durin had retreated farther from the edge. The mood worsened after the search came up empty.

  Knowing it could be his stimulated imagination, Durin thought he could feel the presence of others around him. Strom and Osbourne had gone silent, and he presumed they were sleeping, yet the wind whispered to him. Even more disturbing were the conflicting messages he was getting. Some communications invited him inside, yet another presence just as emphatically wanted him to leave. At times the wind felt as if it were a hand pushing on his face and body, trying to push him over the edge and to his death.

  Another more comforting presence joined him then, and visions of saltbark trees standing in calm, blue waters gave him solace. He could hear waves crashing in the distance, and the song of seabirds was like the music of nature. Somewhere in this idyllic setting, sleep found Durin, and his own imagination took over. Soon he was soaring above the trees, as light as air.

  Chapter 18

  Beware the vanquished, for they smolder like banked coals.

  --Archmaster Belegra

  * * *

  Though he'd prepared most of his life for protecting Catrin, Chase had thought the need passed and it was, in fact, beyond his meager abilities. Now, though, Cat was here, in the hold, and without her power. Trinda had done a masterful job of taking Dragonhold and adding people loyal to her rather than to Catrin and Chase. There were many within the hold still loyal to them, but they were no longer the majority, and there were a great many armed guards supporting Trinda. The child queen was without her power also, but she retained the herald globes. How ironic, Chase thought, the very thing Catrin had worked so hard to create as a tool for peace was now being used as a weapon against her. Allette knew better than anyone the lethal impact of his cousin's invention. Though Catrin had created the globes as precious light sources in her underground fortress, it had been Trinda who discovered the ability to flood them with energy and use them as weapons. Most of Allette's forces had fallen to the herald globes during the Jaga War.

  Remaining in the outer hold had been Chase's idea, and Catrin hadn't argued. Trinda's grip was firmer deeper in the hold, and there were tactical reasons as well. An awful feeling had been growing in his gut. Things were bad but he knew they could be much worse. People loyal to Catrin gathered in the outer halls. Chase did what he could to conceal what was happening, but he knew it must be painfully obvious to those loyal to Trinda. Whatever he planned, he must keep in mind what she might be planning as well.

  What helped Chase the most at the moment, though, was having someone friendly in the God's Eye. Bradley had always been among better soldiers. He'd done any number of undesirable things in the name of service to his people. Chase trusted him. Being in charge of the barges in the God's Eye might not be the most glamorous position, but from a strategic standpoint, it was perfect. Though he'd had no particular destination, Chase found himself walking toward the God's Eye. When he arrived at the nearly still waters, he stayed back. There had been reports of demon attacks along the shoreline and on the barges. Fewer reports had come in the past few days, but Chase was given to caution. His home had become a very dangerous place. It had happened to him before. Old fears and anxieties rose within him, unbidden and unwilling to be suppressed, try as he might.

  With only two people aboard, a barge approached. One was tall and the other was shorter. Traffic on the God's Eye was minimal, partly due to worries over the demons, but also because there were no goods or trade coming from outside the hold. Somehow Nat Dersinger and Catrin had foreseen this. It was something that pained Chase deeply to admit. Fundamentally he'd been proven wrong. It shook the foundation of his beliefs and left him feeling far less certain of himself than he'd once been.

  The torches on the approaching barge cast wavering shadows, and the vessel was nearly to shore before Chase recognized the two men aboard. Simms poled the barge to shore with a sour look on his face. It was clear he didn't want to be there and resented anyone who asked him to venture out into the dark waters. In this case Chase couldn't blame him. With every trip, he risked his life, but that was the role of a soldier. Chase sighed. Not all people could share his philosophy. He reminded himself he could not expect the same level of commitment he had to this cause from anyone else. Doing so just about guaranteed disappointment. This was one of the things Trinda had done masterfully. She'd left much as it had been and gradually changed things that were insignificant in and of themselves. But when all the subtle changes to the power structure added up, the girl had effectively divided the hold, which would make revolution far more difficult to achieve and a much bloodier proposition. Chase didn't even want to think about civil war within Dragonhold.

  The other person on the barge was Sevellon the thief. Chase felt the smallest bit bad for the fellow, whose identity Trinda had revealed. I
t must be difficult to be a thief when everyone knows your profession. Perhaps the man would take this as an opportunity to find some other way to apply his skills. The barge touched stone, and no one spoke. Sevellon stepped off the barge, and Chase noticed he was barefoot. His feet were filthy; they almost looked like . . . Chase swallowed hard and hoped his gut was wrong.

  Meeting Simms's eyes, Chase was not surprised when he turned away and pushed back off without saying a word. Sevellon smiled at Chase and tried to appear unconcerned by his presence. Chase wasn't so easily fooled. The thief had it tough now, indeed. "What happened to you?" Chase asked, pointing to the crude bandage on his foot.

  "I stubbed my toe," the thief said.

  "And where are you going now?" Chase asked, his years as chief of the guards asserting itself.

  "I need to speak with the Herald."

  Chase hadn't been expecting that, and the statement raised his anxiety levels dramatically. "What have you done?"

  "I did the only thing I could do to help," Sevellon said. "I need to see the Herald. Now."

  Chase escorted the thief to the viewing chamber where he knew Allette and Catrin were talking. It was a meeting they were not supposed to disturb, but something told him this would not wait, which was also the reason he'd decided to let Catrin interrogate the man rather than doing it himself.

  "Life has been unkind to you," Catrin was saying to Allette when Chase entered. She cast him a glance, conveying a sharp reprimand.