The Desert Palace

by David J Normoyle

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  The Silver Portal – Chapter 1

  The Silver Portal – Chapter 2

  The Silver Portal – Chapter 3

  The Silver Portal – Chapter 4

  The Silver Portal – Chapter 5

  Author’s Note

  COPYRIGHT

  The Desert Palace

  David J. Normoyle

  Zedane, sick of magical duels, returns to the Desert Palace, determined to achieve high status in his father's court. A fatal misstep threatens a war that will affect not just the humans, but the dragons, angels and other magical beings.

  The Desert Palace is a prequel novelette set thousands of years before the Weapons of Power series.

  * * *

  30% of this file is The Desert Palace. The second 70% is the first five chapters of The Silver Portal, book 1 of the series.

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  The portal closed behind Zedane, bringing an end to five years of humiliation and pain. His time in the Crystal Towers had been more brutal than he could have imagined. Still, it had been necessary, whatever his father thought. The wider world was a hard place, he’d learned, and he needed to make himself hard enough to match it.

  Sand stung his eyes, and Zedane raised his arm to protect his face. With his other hand, he reached into his backpack and fumbled around until his fingers curled around a piece of cloth. He pulled it out—a faral wrap—and he shrouded his face and head until only a thin slit was left open, allowing him to see.

  He wasn’t so long gone from the desert that he didn’t remember how to wear a faral wrap, or how to hold his head so that he could see without the sand striking his face. His face now protected, he took a moment to study his home.

  The Desert Palace stood out in brilliant whiteness against the red of the sand. Three massive domes circled a central tower, and they were surrounded by seven outer towers, each tower flaring to a spire at the top. Arching bridges connected each of the towers to the domes and to each other. There were more the fifty bridges and it was rare that the shortest distance between two points in the palace meant traveling on the ground. From a distance, the bridges seemed to overlap, a giant wondrous white cobweb.

  Zedane started down the dune, his feet sinking into the hot sand with each step. The sun beat down on his neck and sticky sweat prickled up inside his clothes. He had remembered to bring the faral wrap, but his clothes and shoes weren’t appropriate for the desert. Perhaps he had forgotten more than he thought.

  Still, the heat, the wind, the sand—none of it really bothered him. With every step, he was getting closer to the Desert Palace. The familiarity gave Zedane a thrill. He had changed so much, and he feared that his home would look different. He wasn’t the same person who had left; he had become stronger with the metal at his core forged in the crucible of the Crystal Towers, where every speck of respect had to be fought for.

  Zedane slowed as he neared the wide arc of the entrance. No gate blocked his path, but the shimmer of blue showed shield magic in place. A single yosun angel stood in front of the shield, specks of sand coating her blue feathers.

  Zedane stopped in front of the yosun.

  You weren’t expected yet, she thought. Yosun didn’t have gender but Zedane had always thought of them as female. Their humanoid bodies were the same size as a man, though the wings folded behind their backs doubled their height. Their faces, covered in dark blue down, were also human in appearance though their expressions were inscrutable.

  I came early, Zedane thought.

  Your father, Lord Halcone, is presently away from Desert Palace.

  He’ll be back soon, I’m sure. Can I enter?

  You weren’t expected yet.

  Yet you knew I was coming. The magic of the yosun, the way they thought, the way they saw the world, everything about them was different. Yosun looked at time differently than other races. For them, the present, past and future blurred together in a way humans couldn’t understand. Yosun had been part of his childhood, yet rarely had any stood in his way before. May I call you Avik?

  She inclined her head. An acceptance.

  Yosun didn’t have names but understood that humans preferred them, and Zedane had called them Avik. It wasn’t until Zedane was in his teens that he’d discovered that Avik wasn’t always the same yosun. They had little concept of individuality because all experiences were shared between them. Zedane had subsequently learned to tell them apart via the subtle difference in the patterns of their under-feathers, then realized the pointlessness in that. As a yosun would think: Avik is Avik.

  Is there any reason why I should not enter? Zedane thought.

  Her wings shifted outward, then fell back into place. Something might happen.

  Something bad or good? Even as he articulated the thought, he realized it as a poor question.

  Just something, she thought.

  Yosun didn’t see the world in terms of good and bad. Like Mother Nature they were impartial. They saw no difference between the rainstorm that flooded a village and the one which rescued a town from drought.

  “It’s my home.” Zedane spoke aloud for the first time. “Are you refusing me entry?” He made sure to imbue his voice with authority. Such things meant nothing to yosun, but authority was a habit—one he intended to fully embrace.

  Avik leaned her head back, signaling no.

  “I might as well enter in that case. No point staying out in the wind.” Surely Avik didn’t expect him to go back to the Crystal Towers, then return in a few days.

  Avik inclined her head and unfurled her wings. A gust of wind lifted her up into the air, then she soared high over Zedane’s head. Avik’s under-feathers were a riot of yellows and reds.

  Zedane followed her ascent and was shocked to see several more yosun circling above his head. Since Avik saw and felt what every other yosun experienced, there was no need for more than one to be in the same place. The only time Zedane had previously seen more than one in the same place was when they doubled up as Halcone guard detail, which was for ceremonial reasons.

  The tinny sound of sand hitting the magical barrier disappeared and Zedane walked through the arch and into the main courtyard. He glanced up and was glad to see that Avik didn’t follow him. Had they changed so much since he’d last been in the palace?

  Or was it what they saw in his future that had gotten them so disturbed? Zedane couldn’t imagine what that could be.

  Chapter 2

  The main courtyard was almost empty, which wasn’t surprising given that the winds were not strong enough to make the bridges dangerous, and for those entering and leaving the palace, portal points within the city were more commonly used than the one out in the desert.

  Zedane lowered the faral wrap, then slowly spun around, taking in each tower in turn. When he’d been younger, he’d assumed that, as the Florassiv prince, he’d rule alongside Halcone in the Desert Palace when he came of age. His time in the Towers had taught him that it wouldn’t happen like that. It was difficult to earn higher status than someone who could defeat him in a magical duel.

  Nevertheless, he intended to earn a position of power at the Desert Palace. Other things mattered beside magic. He was Tower-trained and of impeccable birth, and if he made the correct choices, then it wouldn’t come down to duels.

  If he could maintain status via respect, contacts and birth, then there was no reason he couldn’t gain a seat on the high council at least. Part of his Tower training was in dueling, but another part—a more
important part in Zedane’s mind—was learning how to convince others to lower their eyes to you without the need for a duel.

  Zedane needed to wash off his travel stains and get his father’s tailor to make him clothes befitting a prince of the realm—looking the part was important—but first he wanted to fully savor his return, and there was only one place he could do that.

  He lifted a crystal from his hip pocket, held it up so that light touched it, absorbed some of its store of magic, then pocketed it again. He didn’t absolutely need the extra magic—he was proud of his speed-magic endurance—but he didn’t want to be exhausted later that evening.

  He sped up until everything around him became a blur, racing across the main courtyard, through several small courtyards before reaching the central tower. He slowed to push open the door, then accelerated again, staying to the outside of the spiral staircase, and keeping slow enough that he was confident he could avoid a collision.

  He took the final flight of steps at normal speed. His mind wandered back to his time in the Towers. Zedane had lost more duels than he’d won, but it wasn’t because he was weak in magic—he was one of the strongest in his class in pure magical ability. It was just that he was strong in the lower magics.

  Of the six magics available to humans, those who controlled the higher magics—energy and shield mages—were the ones who became rulers and leaders. Those attuned to intellectual magics—portal mages and thought mages—didn’t duel much because their value and status was unquestioned. They became magistrates and advisers. Zedane had been cursed to be strong only in the physical magics, good only to be soldiers or laborers in the eyes of some. The only thing worse was being a notan, someone with no magic at all.

  The door in front of him led to his favorite place in the whole world, and when he was at his lowest while at the Towers, the memory of it had never failed to bring him comfort. Zedane had once counted all the steps to the top, and as he took the one thousand five hundred and thirty seventh and final step, he told himself to forget about the Towers. It was time to move on.

  Zedane adjusted the faral wrap so it once again covered his whole face except for a narrow strip in front of his eyes, then he pushed open the door and walked out. The wind immediately snatched his robe, sending it billowing out behind him. Zedane stumbled backward, almost out of control. He grabbed the cloth and wrapped it close to his body, steadied himself, then let out a triumphant howl for no reason except he felt fully alive. He kept his sleeves low over his hands and turned his face away from the wind, then moved toward the southern end of the tower. The walls were low, and he stopped several paces from the edge, knowing not to get too close when the winds were strong.

  Zedane gazed beyond the palace and out into the southern sands. Thousands of giant red dunes, shaped like toppling waves and furrowed by the wind, were spread out before him, disappearing into the horizon. Clouds of sand drifted across the surface. Joy ballooned up within him at the sight. It wasn’t something he could explain, but seeing the giant dunes reminded him of the immensity and beauty of the world and made his worries fall away. He felt renewed, stronger.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Zedane’s head jerked around, surprised. Between the long ascent and the scouring winds, not many came all the way to the top. A girl with short black hair—her tattered and dirty cloak streaming out behind—stood close by. Zedane didn’t recognize her.

  Her cloak suggested she was of a low status. To be sure, Zedane glanced down at the scrying ring. The small blue crystal didn’t glow, which meant she was a notan.

  “Leave me,” Zedane said to her. He wanted longer to enjoy the moment without being bothered.

  “Go choke on your faral wrap,” she said.

  Zedane almost thought he must have misheard. In all his time in the Towers, no one so below him had insulted him. He lowered his faral wrap and rechecked his scrying ring to make sure she had no magical power. There was no mistake.

  The notan brazenly glared at him. He had come back to the Desert Palace to gain a position of influence, and he didn’t intend to start off by being humiliated. “Lower your eyes,” he ordered.

  “All you Tower-educated nobles think you own the world. Well, you don’t.”

  Anger roared within Zedane. In the Tower, he’d been forced to lower his eyes to all the boys and girls more powerful than him. Sometimes, he’d even been forced to eat dirt or lick shoes clean when he’d been defeated in private duels. He’d come back home and wasn’t going to have his status lowered by some crazy notan on the very first day. He would make her respect him. He drew on both his speed and strength magic, dashed to her side and lifted her into the air by her tunic. “You will show me respect.”

  “Or what?” She sneered at him.

  He wasn’t going to abide it. He threw her from him. “You will—”

  His voice cut off as he saw her arc toward the low wall on the edge of the tower. Her hands clawed at the air. No! I didn’t mean that. He drew on his magic and raced after her, skidding to a stop by the wall and reaching forward.

  With both speed and strength magic raging through his body, all he needed was a fingerhold to catch her.

  The tips of his fingers brushed her cloak, and he strained forward, grasping, but he just couldn't quite get purchase.

  She fell.

  Her mouth was open, her face contorted in a mixture of rage and terror, but she didn’t scream, didn’t make a sound. Her cloak billowed out below her, flapping violently. Her body touched the side of the tower, bouncing her outward, then she smashed to a stop, hitting the courtyard stones.

  With the wind roaring in his ears, it was impossible for Zedane to hear noises down in the courtyard—it was much too far away. Which meant that he must have imagined the sickening thud when she landed.

  People gathered around the fallen girl and pointed up at Zedane leaning over the edge. Zedane pulled himself back from the edge and into a sitting position against the wall, out of the wind.

  Avik arrived, swooping down before several strong beats of her wings allowed her to touch down gently.

  “You knew this was going to happen?” Zedane asked.

  Avik’s tilted her head to the side. I knew it might happen.

  “Why didn’t you stop it? Tell me not to climb the tower?”

  To what purpose?

  “She’d still be alive.”

  You would have preferred not to kill her?

  “Of course.”

  You could have followed that path. Avik’s head tilted toward the edge of the tower. You chose a different one.

  “I...” Yosun had no concept of emotions, so Zedane couldn’t explain the humiliation and rage that had driven him to act. Avik wouldn’t be able to understand, either, how much he regretted the instant of madness, and how he would give almost anything to take it back. But it was too late. “I will pay the family the price owed.” That she was a notan simplified matters. He hated himself for thinking this with her blood still seeping into the stones of the courtyard below, but it was true.

  Avik leaned her head back. No. You are to be imprisoned.

  “Imprisoned? For killing a notan?”

  Avik inclined her head.

  “In the dungeons?” Zedane stood. “What possible reason could there be for that?”

  She’s not just any notan. She’s the High Lord’s daughter, Kae.

  Of all the rotten luck. The High Lord, the greatest mage in the known world, famously had a notan daughter that he doted on. “How was I supposed to know?”

  You could have waited until Halcone came back. Your father would have told you about Kae.

  You’re saying it was my choice? Blasted Avik and her weird logic. “Can I be imprisoned in my room instead of the dungeons? Until Halcone returns?”

  Avik’s head tilted one way, then the other. She seemed to be thinking, or perhaps communing with the other yosun. Finally she inclined her head.

  Chapter 3

  When the kn
ock came, Zedane was sitting at his desk, using his knife to carve lines through his old wooden desk. “Enter,” he said. It seemed too soon for lunch, but after only a day locked up, he’d already lost his sense of time as well as most of his appetite.

  “Leave it on the table,” he said without turning.

  “Zedane.”

  Halcone’s voice. Zedane sprang to his feet, turning. “You’re back.”

  Halcone closed the door behind him. “I returned as soon as I heard.”

  Zedane rushed to the doorway and threw his arms around his father. Halcone’s body stiffened. He didn’t return the embrace.

  “This isn’t the way I expected us to meet,” Zedane said. A warm reunion was another thing that he had looked forward to. Another thing ruined.

  “Why, son?” Halcone asked. “Why did you do it?”

  Zedane turned away. He expected his father to be more worried about him than about the notan. “I didn’t mean for her to die. It wasn’t on purpose.”

  Halcone sighed. “Kae was a wonderful girl. I had hoped...” His mouth twisted. “It seems a macabre thought now, but I was sure you’d be firm friends.”

  “She’s a notan.” Everyone seemed to have forgotten the most important detail in the matter. Although Zedane regretted what he’d done, her status couldn’t be ignored.

  “I feared sending you to the Towers, but I never thought you’d change this much.”

  “I didn’t mea—”

  “I’ve spoken with Belial Hothe. I know the details.” Belial Hothe, the chief magistrate, was the most powerful thought-mage in the palace. Via a meld with Zedane, he’d seen exactly what had happened, even registered Zedane’s emotions during the event. “I’d prefer to hear some regret rather than excuses.”

  “She showed me no respect.”

  “I should have kept you in the Palace, had Belial Hothe arrange your education.”

  “I had to learn,” Zedane said. “I was too cosseted here.” As much as he’d hated his time in the Towers, it had been necessary, both in strengthening his magic and more importantly, preparing him for the world.”