Slurr offered her his hand as she reached the bottom and she took it. He reached with the same arm that the Silestran had slashed, but no trace of the wound remained. Cerah had healed it, even as they were collecting Beru’s remains. Now she fell into his arms and let Slurr hold her for several minutes. Although her heart was broken, she had determined that she would not weep during her brother’s funeral. She had done plenty of crying throughout the night on which they had returned, and when the elder women had taken what had remained of Beru’s body from the bloody blanket in which they had brought him home and wrapped him in pure white linen, surrounding his body with aromatic herbs, her tears were unstoppable.
But now all the wizards of Melsa were gathered to pay their respects to her brave brother, and she would not allow herself the luxury of further weeping.
There was a murmuring sound as the assembly offered up private prayers, as was the custom of the wizards when one of their own passed. Cerah wondered if Parnasus would speak, but he stood among the mourners, instead talking quietly to Ma’uzzi. Finally, she stepped forward. She turned her back to the pyre and faced the people she had come to consider her own. They grew silent and waited to hear what she would say.
“One of my first memories is walking through the market in the Softer, with my big brother holding my hand and telling me that if I didn’t run from him, he would buy me a honeycomb to eat. As we grew older, we often fought, as brothers and sisters do, but should someone else speak crossly to me, it was always Beru who stood between me and them.
“Since we left Kamara behind, my brother showed a mettle that surprised everyone, except me…and Slurr. We knew that Beru was capable of great courage and would put his back into any task he faced and do his level best.
“He died protecting me. I was asleep when he was killed, resting peacefully while his body was being torn apart by four vile Silestran assassins who had been dispatched to destroy the Chosen One. You have all heard the story by now and you know that it was a wizard, one of our own brethren, who led the murderers to the place where we were hiding. Once our ceremony is ended and we send Beru’s body and spirit off to the Next Plane, our collective focus will be the capture of the traitor, Zenk.
“Wizards of Melsa, the war for Quadar has begun, and my brother is the first warrior to fall. Let us release him now. My mother will be waiting for him at the gates of Paradise. We will say goodbye to Beru. And then we will set to bear the fires of the Under Plane upon the Anger of Pilka and his vile minions. Surok may have struck first, but we will strike back with righteous fury until his foul shadow is erased forever from our planet.”
She turned to face the pyre and pointed her podstaff at its base. “Goodbye, Beru,” she whispered. A ball of fire issued from her staff, striking and igniting the wood. She stepped backward as the flames grew, allowing her husband to wrap his arms around her.
As the assembly moved to once again surround her, bringing her into their collective body, they looked on as the fire burned high into the sky. When it had fully engulfed Beru’s remains, Cerah watched as the flames seemed to take the form of a human man, standing tall and proud over them all. Then a second form, a woman, appeared next to the first.
“Your mother has welcomed him home,” Slurr whispered into Cerah’s ear. In spite of her promise to herself, a single tear found its way down her cheek as the two figures moved together, then dissolved and were no more.
The fragrant smell of the burning wood filled Cerah’s nostrils and she breathed it in deeply. The wizards stood in silence until the pyre began to collapse under its burning weight. Finally, Parnasus stepped out of the crowd and approached Cerah. “Your brother is at peace now.”
“Yes,” said Cerah. “But there will be no more peace for me. Not until I look into the eyes of Surok and kill him. Please ask everyone to bring their dragons to the field. I want Zenk found.” She took Slurr’s hand and walked away, looking one last time at the dying fire.
When Zenk neared the edge of the Western Forest, he looked desperately in all directions, fearful of every shadow, every sound. The Silestra had failed! He, like they, had underestimated the fury of the big one. Even wounded he was deadly. And the girl! While Zenk still refused to believe she was the Chosen One, he could not deny she possessed formidable power. He had never witnessed so deadly a spell as this “apart” she had cast. Zenk had long studied the craft and had even been enticed by the allure of dark magic. But what he had witnessed was not something that was taught on Melsa, and even his exposure to the darkness had not revealed a hex such as that. He could only conclude that it was a magic of her own contrivance. And if she was able to forge her own spells, she was a dangerous enemy indeed.
He had been careful to remain hidden while the brief battle had occurred. He did not know if they had seen him. Perhaps they had no idea that he had led the assassins to the hiding place.
But even before these thoughts were fully formed, he knew the truth. The girl had sensed him. Her face had flashed through his mind as he fled. It had remained for only an instant, but he knew what it meant. She was letting him know that his treachery was not hidden from her.
Now he skulked from tree to tree, his black heart pounding in his heaving chest. Would that I had killed the impudent child myself! But always she was under one watchful eye or another. If not Kern, then Parnasus. If neither of them, then her hulking husband. And if none of those fools were with her, she was with the queen dragon. Now, instead, he was the hunted.
I do not have much time, he thought. They may already be looking for me. Zenk knew what he needed to do. His match-mate, a kindly green named Balthus, was miles away. He’d left him quite some distance from the village, along the shore. He had instructed him to wait behind while he sought out the Silestra, knowing the dragon would not tolerate their presence. His only hope was to project a call to him. He dare not venture any nearer the populated zones than this.
It took nearly an hour for the dragon to arrive. Zenk spent the time waiting hidden behind a broad tree at the forest’s border, shivering with cold and fear. When he heard Balthus’s trumpet, he stepped into view. The dragon landed by his side. Climbing upon the green’s back, Zenk said,
“I can no longer dwell safely on Melsa. This Cerah will not suffer me to live if she finds me. Indeed, if she is as strong in the craft as it now appears she may be, there will be no safe haven for me anywhere on Quadar. Take me away, Balthus.”
As the dragon took wing and headed for the ocean, Zenk had only one thought. I must put as much distance between myself and this witch as possible. It occurs to me there is yet one place in which I might find sanctuary.
Yarren and Russa sat with Jessip at a table in Jura’s Ale House, a busy establishment in the heart of Nedar. They were in good spirits. With Jessip’s help they had gathered about five thousand men and women who were ready to fight against whatever force had been able to obliterate the city of Reeze from the face of the planet. Rallying them had taken some effort. Even with the evidence of their own eyes, the dire warnings from the wizards, and the persuasion of the voluble Jessip, many people still refused to believe that conflict was upon them. But the trio had been persistent, and eventually many were convinced. They had been training now for several weeks. Though most were armed, some had yet to secure weapons. They drilled anyway, using sawed off broomsticks in place of swords or else the farm implements they had brought with them. There were four armorers in the cities of Nedar and Lamur, and all were working around the clock to turn out new swords, spears, and mail to outfit the army. In addition, seven blacksmiths located between the two cities had also begun to make blades. Little by little, the Army of Kier was taking shape.
Seated with the trio were four other wizards. Puul and Nessa were recently arrived from Illyria, while Lista and Kerval had come from Pydigia. They had shared news of similar trials in convincing peace-drugged humans to take up arms. But in the end, they had largely prevailed on those two continents, both of which wer
e more populous than the largely rural Kier. Among the three armies a force of nearly twenty thousand had been organized.
“Jessip here was instrumental in gathering the people of eastern Kier,” said Yarren. “Russa enlisted the help of another fine organizer from the western villages by the name of Tatio. He is currently overseeing the drilling of several brigades outside the city. Our progress is encouraging.”
“Yes,” said Puul. “We too were gradually able to convince many humans to join us, especially once the news of the destruction of Kamara had spread throughout the continent. When we left them to meet with you, the people were fully armed and had been drilling for well over a month. They actually appear to be an effective fighting force.”
Kerval nodded. “The work on Pydigia goes well also,” he said.
“Two cities were lost on that continent,” said Lista. He took a drink from his ale. “We still met with some skepticism, but others of the people there practically begged us to help them militarize. They have had a harder time producing the weapons they need, but now more than two-thirds have something to fight with. There are many spear-carriers and archers, fewer swordsmen.”
Yarren smiled. “It is good. I projected calls to wizards on all the continents. I’m hoping they will answer as you did. Once we get an idea of the aggregate size of our forces we can report back to Melsa. I am eager to hear what the Chosen One has planned for her army.”
“I hope she is up to the task,” said Nessa. The others turned to look at her. “I do not doubt her, don’t misunderstand me,” said the heavyset woman. “We have all witnessed her transformation. She arrived on Melsa, what…four months ago? She was at first not very receptive to the things Parnasus told her. She did not believe she was the Chosen One.”
“Yes,” said Russa, “but that is no longer the case. Her almost miraculous attainment of magic-skill, her acceptance by the Spirit Elders, even her somewhat ticklish experience with the Sarquahn, all of that has helped her realize that she is the one spoken of in the prophecy.”
“I agree,” said Nessa. “But to be thrust into this role in such a short time! I know I could not handle such responsibility.” She shook her head, her red tresses swirling.
Puul gave her a light punch on the arm. “Well, you, my green-eyed friend, are not the Chosen One, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
Yarren waited for the laughter to die down. When it did he said, “I have had the honor of spending a little time with Cerah and I will tell you this: she is like no one I have ever met in my life. When you are in her presence you know, you just know, that she is the Chosen One. I cannot really explain it, but I am certain of it. Even on their wedding night, when I showed her and Slurr to their new home, her presence overwhelmed me.”
As the wizards thought their own thoughts about Cerah and enjoyed their ale, a young boy came into the room. He ran to their table.
“Wizards of Melsa, I have good news. A group of five hundred more citizens from the southern plains have arrived in Nedar ready to join up. Most have weapons already.”
“Excellent! A bearer of good tidings is always welcome,” said Jessip. He threw the boy a gold dan. “Bring them to where Tatio is training. They will be incorporated into his brigades.”
“Yes sir!” the boy shouted, jamming the coin into his pocket and racing out of the ale house.
Jessip watched the lad go, then said, “I must confess. Never did I dream such days would come to Quadar. A prince of evil! A chosen savior to oppose him! By all those in the Planes both above and below, it challenges one to the very core. But I am honored to be allied with the great wizards and am proud to be on the side of the right.”
“We should expect news from the other continents within the next couple of days,” said Yarren. “If their intelligence is as positive as yours, Russa and I will fly to Melsa and brief Cerah. She will know that the free people of Quadar are ready to follow her.”
They drank a toast to the Chosen One, and to the Army of Quadar.
“I hear water,” Kern said to Szalmi. They had been in the jungle for two days, and the wizard had been growing frustrated at his inability to locate any trace of a river. But now he could clearly make out the sound of a rushing flow. Szalmi cocked his head to get a better sense of the direction the noise was coming. After a moment, he charged off to the west. “Wait for me!” Kern shouted, running after him. They rushed among the thick vegetation for a few minutes, then burst through to the bank of a wide river, its current mighty and rapid.
“Yes!” said Kern. “This must be the one river that flows from the two others, as I saw in my vision!” Szalmi trumpeted happily. “Now all we have to do is to follow it until we find the confluence.”
His celebration was interrupted by the sound of something whizzing past his ear. Kern snapped his head around to see an arrow plunge into a tree trunk inches from his head. He instinctively dropped to the ground. Szalmi let out a nervous chirp and ducked behind some bushes. Well, thought Kern, that was an unfriendly welcome. Might the object of my quest have found me, instead of the other way around?
Kern looked in the direction from which the arrow had come. He saw no one. “Don’t shoot,” he called out. “I mean you no harm. I am Kern, a wizard of Melsa, and I seek the Riddue craftsman who dwells in this jungle.”
“The wizards of Melsa are no more,” came a voice in response after a short pause. “Those that were not killed in the wars of old have long since left Quadar, flying away on their dragons to a new star.”
“I have not heard that one before,” said Kern, partly to himself. “I assure you we have not gone anywhere. In recent history it is true that wizard-kind has not often left Melsa. But we still walk upon, and fly above, Quadar.”
“Who told you there was a Riddue in this jungle?” the unseen voice asked.
“I saw him in a vision. As I said, I am a wizard. I am able to cast my sight over great distances. I saw this man living in a hut in this very jungle. I’ve come to ask him to make weapons and armor for the Chosen One of Quadar, to be used in the war against Surok.”
“Surok?” came the reply. “You are an enemy of Surok?”
“You know that name?”
Rather than answer the question, the voice of the hidden archer said, “Stand and let me see you.”
“Let me see you as well. I do not wish to have another of your arrows come so close.”
There was no answer for a moment. Finally, Kern heard motion in the trees. A man, clad in a loincloth and holding a bow jumped down and stood in the tall ground cover. “It would have come closer, if I had so intended. Come out, wizard,” he said, pronouncing the last word in such a way that it was clear he still did not believe Kern was any such thing.
Kern carefully stood and let himself be seen. The two men faced each other in silence for several minutes. Just then Szalmi stepped out of his hiding place.
“What manner of beast is that?” said the man, quickly nocking an arrow.
“It’s alright. He is my friend. This is Szalmi, my dragon.”
“Dragon! I always pictured them a little bigger. How could a wizard fly away from Quadar on a tiny creature such as that?” he asked, lowering his bow.
Kern laughed. “Yes, well he can grow to a much larger size. It’s called ‘phasing.’ There isn’t really room for him to do it in the dense jungle.” Kern looked carefully at the man. He was lean, but muscular. His brown hair was long, past his shoulders. He had striking hazel eyes, which clearly did not trust Kern, at least not yet. He certainly looked similar to the person he had seen in his vision. And how many other people are likely to be in this remote place? he thought.
“I am not used to seeing people in this jungle,” said the man. “My first reaction when I do is generally to kill them.”
“Yes. Well. Thank you for not doing that.”
“I came here to escape the society of men. But I have not always dwelt here. I know of Melsa, though I was taught it had long since been aband
oned. And I know of Surok. My parents often told me that if I misbehaved he would come in the night and eat me.” The man took a few tentative steps toward Kern and Szalmi. “But my grandfather told me that the truth was far more frightening than that. He said that the Riddue had long ago fought alongside the wizards. He said one of my ancestors had sailed to the Frozen South. He told me Surok was very real.”
“So you are Riddue?” Kern asked.
“I am,” the man confirmed at last. “I am called Zayan.”
“Well, Zayan, your grandfather spoke the truth. My teacher was also among those who took that voyage. He saw Surok with his own eyes. He watched as his teacher cast a mighty spell which bound the beast for many centuries. But that spell has eroded, and the demon is now preparing an army to conquer all the Free People of Quadar.”
“Impossible. My grandfather said that conflict occurred many hundreds of years ago. How could your teacher have gone on that voyage? How could he have seen Surok?”
“The life of a wizard runs many times the span of a human life. My teacher has lived over a thousand years. I, myself, am three-hundred seventeen.”
Zayan stared hard at Kern. “You lie. You look old, but no older than my father was when he passed to the Next Plane after living seventy-seven years.”
“I consider that a compliment. No, I am not lying. I come to you hiding nothing, with no inclination toward deception.”
“You hid your so-called dragon.”
“He wasn’t hiding. He was trying not to get shot. I promise you, I seek only to entreat you to use your Riddue skills to craft the tools needed by the Chosen One to stop Surok from running roughshod across the planet.”
Many Hidden Rooms (Cerah of Quadar Book 2) Page 8
