Born to Magic: Tales of Nevaeh: Volume I

by David Wind

  There wasn’t much reason. Finally, I decided to bring only those things I needed to stay alive until I could adapt and blend. With my mind made up, I loaded water and the weapons I’d made along with thirty pounds of raw Trilimion. There were other things as well, but those would never be seen by anyone now living on Nevaeh.

  Two months ago I began a series of inoculations to assure my biological survival and acclimation. These meds were created by the medical computer designed for that purpose 3,000 years ago, in preparation for the people of the ship to populate a new world—a joke to end all jokes for the new world was the old world….

  Now that I find myself at the control console for the last time, having reprogrammed the ship’s main computer, part of me is saddened. But another part of me, the part that says you were twenty four years old when you left Earth and now it’s time to live, is jumping with anticipation. I have, perhaps, two hours of time before I take the life boat to my new home.

  I can only wonder what my life will be like once I set foot on the land of my birth.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE FORTIFICATIONS OF the circular outer walls of Tolemac stood tall against the backdrop of a cloudless blue sky. The walls reflected the already bright sun, which had climbed but a short way into the morning sky. They had ridden through the night, eating a late meal at the side of the road and then breaking fast in the morning with dried fruit and nuts while riding. Their only other stops were for personal toilet.

  Passing through the guarded gateway of the outer walls, Areenna and King Nosaj led their men toward the second gateway, forty yards distant. Once past the second wall, they headed to the main keep.

  Tolemac’s castle keep was the heart of the High King’s realm and like no other in Nevaeh. Instead of rising straight up, the walls curved outward like prongs on a crown. And those walls, although built of rock, showed no masonry lines where the carved stones were joined; rather, they were covered with a smooth finish created by Roth himself.

  The walls rose thirty un-scalable feet into the air. Many had tried to climb the walls at Roth’s invitation, but no man had been able to collect the sizeable reward offered to the first person who accomplished the feat. From the highest parapets flew Roth’s personal banner—a circle of eleven black bordered red stars embroidered upon blue and white strips.

  “We are the last,” Areenna said, pointing to the banners flying on Tolemac’s southwest parapet. Even as they looked, the banner of Freemorn was being hoisted.

  “Still, we made good time,” Nosaj acknowledged. Ahead of them, within the second ring, the townspeople went about their business as if it were just another morning and the rulers of Nevaeh’s ten domains were not there.

  From above, Gaalrie touched her mind. She saw what Gaalrie saw, Queen Enaid standing in the courtyard, her large white gorlon at her side as always, waiting patiently for her father and herself. The queen wore a loose dress of white trimmed violet that flowed smoothly in the breeze of the high walkway.

  When Queen Enaid looked up at Gaalrie, she raised her hand in greeting and Gaalrie dipped downward in a slow spiral of acknowledgement. As the bird did so, Areenna studied the high queen she hadn’t seen in almost a half year. A tall woman with burnished mocha skin, Enaid had fire polished black hair that sparkled under the morning sun.

  While the high queen was the same age as her father, she appeared not more than five years older than Areenna herself. As High Queen, Enaid was respected throughout the dominions for her wisdom and guidance. It was said, as a sorceress, Enaid had no equal in Nevaeh—it was a truth Areenna knew well.

  Areenna had met the high queen many times in her life, and was a cousin three times removed, but in the two years since her mother’s death, Enaid had become her mentor. The high queen had visited many times to help with her studies of the women’s art. Those visits had been both wonderful and sad, for Enaid had taken on the responsibility of Areenna’s mother, helping her to understand not only the powers she had been born with, but continuing the special training her mother had given her during the last months of her life—a training which was not supposed to be taught for several more years.

  No one knew of this, as Enaid had sworn Areenna to secrecy. Politically, it was not in Areenna’s or her father’s best interests to be so favored. Even her father could not know. When they met, it was always in the deep forest, near the Blue Desert, where she had found Gaalrie four years earlier.

  When they entered Tolemac’s huge courtyard, a dozen stable boys ran to take the reins of the exhausted kraals. Two men dressed in castle livery came out to bring King Nosaj’s men to their quarters while Queen Enaid came to greet Areenna and her father.

  “May the sun continue to shine on Freemorn, Highness,” she said, with a slight bow of her head to Nosaj.

  In turn, Areenna’s father bent slightly from the waist while taking the high queen’s hand. “And may it brighten all of your days, My Lady. You know my daughter, Areenna,” he added.

  “Of course,” Enaid smiled warmly. “You grow lovelier each time I see you, Princess.”

  “Thank you, E…Your Majesty,” she said, correcting herself quickly. She glanced at her father who, thankfully, had not caught her slip.

  “I am glad to see you have stepped into you duties, Areenna. It is good for you to be here with your father. He will need your counsel. Please, the others await you,” she said, turning and motioning them to follow.

  When they reached the meeting chamber in the main section of the castle, Enaid turned to Nosaj. “Please go in. With your permission, I would speak a moment with Areenna. It has been too long.”

  “Of course, My Lady,” Nosaj replied.

  When the door shut behind him, Enaid guided Areenna down a hallway and into a small nook where she turned and drew the younger woman into her arms. “It is good to see you, my dear.”

  “And you,” Areenna replied. She had indeed missed Enaid these past few months as well as the lessons the Queen had given her during the past two years.

  “I wish it were under better circumstances. Areenna, dark times are coming. It is why I have been unable to visit Freemorn, and why my husband called this meeting.”

  “Dark times?” The words sent a tremor through her, bringing up the vision she had uncovered when she’d touched Duke Yermon.

  “The power of the dark circle is growing again. They have rested these past years since their downfall at my husband’s hands, but they have been slowly gaining strength. The Northern kingdoms are beginning to fight amongst themselves. While it may appear to be simple border disputes, I sense it is much more than that. I will need your help.”

  “How can I possibly help? I have not your knowledge or your strengths—”

  “Oh, child, do you still not know how strong you truly are? You must not doubt yourself. Your mother was the most powerful sorceress I have ever known, second only to me. And you, child, no matter how you fight it, will shortly surpass everyone, including me. But we need not discuss such things now,” she said, cutting off Areenna’s protest.

  “Listen well to what is said in the chamber. Listen well and advise well. Do not be caught in the games these kings play in their efforts to make their ‘doms’ stronger. Listen to your mind and to your heart. Promise me this.”

  Areenna closed her eyes for a moment. “You have my pledge, My Lady.”

  “Remember, Areenna, all I ask is for you to do what you know is right. Let your thoughts quest through the room, let your instincts guide you. Do you understand?"

  Areenna searched the Queen’s face before nodding.

  Enaid smiled. “Come then, let us join the council as they are about to begin.”

  It was the first time Areenna had come to the chamber as a King Advisor. And it was the first time she had the clarity to understand the way the chamber had been set up and discerned it could have been done no other way.

  Each king sat in a chair made of simple wood. Another chair was set on the right side of each kin
g. These chairs were set slightly back and elevated, allowing whoever sat in them to speak directly into their king’s ear without bending or stretching. The chamber was circular, with the twenty-two chairs spread in a semi-circle, radiating from the simple throne and advisor chair which was the fulcrum of the room.

  Sitting in the advisor chair to the right of her father, Areenna surveyed the room. Enaid moved into her chair on the right side of the high king. The stewards closed the three sets of double doors and sealed the meeting chamber—only kings and advisors remained. The happenings inside the chamber would not be known until the Kings were ready to speak of it.

  There was a tingling at the base of her neck. Slowly, without appearing to look at anyone in particular, Areenna gazed about the chamber. The feeling came from Queen Eetak of Fainhall. Why, she wondered. Closing her eyes, she concentrated. An instant later she found Fainhall’s queen trying to read her. Areenna raised a block against the woman and the sensation died immediately. From the corner of her eye, she saw Eetak stiffen.

  In the silence following the closing of the doors, the pale skinned high king of Nevaeh, Solomon Roth, rose. “I thank each of you for disrupting your lives to answer my call. I hope you know, I would not lightly ask such a thing of you.” He paused and looked around the circle of faces.

  “When I arrived at Brumwall, the ten ‘doms’ were at war. For untold years, your domains fought each other, and yet none of you ever moved beyond your own holdings. No matter how the fighting went, who won and who lost, everything stayed equal. And it remained equal for a purpose. Because it was the way they needed it. If any one of you became stronger than the others, the possibility existed that he would conquer the next and the next and so on. The end result would have been one king ruling the lands. It was a situation they could not allow. Without the dominions of Nevaeh fighting, their power would diminish and their grip over you would fail.”

  “Why do you think that for so long a time—a time stretching so far back not even your own histories had started to be recorded—you fought each other?”

  When no one responded, Roth said, “It was what they wanted. They needed you to fight. The dark ones, and the Afzaleem, needed your warfare. They and their minions needed your hatred and your battles to feed themselves and their masters to continue living.”

  “How have they been living since we stopped fighting?” called King Retlaw of Morvene.

  “They are strong yet. Not strong enough to battle us, but strong enough to survive. They live off the hatred and the fighting within the Blue Desert, in the tar fields of the north, the icy regions of the northwest, and in the southern swamplands as well. They also draw power from their masters across the sea. While it is not what they direly crave, it’s enough to keep them going. Enough to let them plan…”

  “I have had raiders attack us from the tar fields. It took no big effort to repel them. They are unorganized and untrained—there is nothing to fear,” declared King Maslo of Northcrom, the kingdom closest to the arctic tar fields.

  “So it would seem,” Roth said after Enaid whispered in his ear. “You have had but one attack, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long ago did it happen?”

  “Eight months,” King Maslo replied.

  Turning, King Roth pointed to Libon, King of Welkold. “And you, Highness,” Roth said, “How many raids have you had to deal with?”

  Libon’s mother whispered to him, after which the young unmarried king stood. “There have been four raids since my father’s passing. The first, a year ago, was easily stopped, as was the next. But the third one, five months ago cost us thirty guardsmen and seventeen infantry men before we pushed them back. The last, as you know, was three weeks ago.”

  Libon paused while he worked hard to maintain himself. His young voice held strong as he continued. “Three weeks ago they attacked again. This time they went after an outer province. By the time we reached them, the province had been decimated. Women had been taken and too many men killed. They were stronger this time, much stronger. We went after them, and caught them just before the wastelands of the Frozen Mountains. The fight lasted most of a day. When it ended, a third of my force was lost. We saved many of the women, but not all.”

  “Thank you, King Libon,” Roth said before raking his eyes over the rest. “We face a problem without easy solution. There is another reason the dark ones are gaining strength. The reason is you,” he snapped, glaring at each king in turn.

  “Do you still not understand what we accomplished twenty years ago? Can you not see it was because the ten dominions agreed to be ruled by a High King that we were able to gain enough strength in unification to defeat them? When the dominions stopped warring among themselves, the energy we regained was too much for them. But they have found a way by using the runaways, criminals, and castoffs to begin rebuilding their power. By taking young, untrained women they gain even more power.

  And you are fighting amongst yourselves again. Is that not right, Nomis? You have challenged Kalshold’s rights to hunt the land between your two domains?”

  “Those lands are mine!” Nomis shouted while shrugging his wife’s restraining hand from his shoulder. His eyes were wide and wild.

  “No! The unanimous treaty signed by all realms, the treaty you yourself signed, states the lands between kingdoms are not claimable by any kingdom. Whoever hunts there, hunts free, no matter to what dominion he gives fealty.”

  “They were my lands before you came, High King,” Nomis, king of Fainhall, snapped with a disdainful sneering of the words ‘High King’.

  “Good,” Roth said, his words almost an exhalation. “You speak your heart. Perhaps you should speak with your brain as well. Do you think you could survive if they come back again? You defeated them, killed two of the Afzaleem yourself. Do you believe they would allow you to live undisturbed or even to die quickly? You damned well know better! Yet you play into their hands because of your ego, your anger, and your greed. And make no mistake, they feed well from it!”

  “How dare you!” Nomis began, his hand going to his sword.

  Areenna saw Queen Enaid turn and favor her with a meaningful look. Before anyone could move, Areenna grasped her father’s shoulder. “You must stop them,” she hissed. “Now!”

  Without hesitation, Nosaj rose quickly and strode to the center of the semicircle. “Who are you to challenge what all have decided? How dare you,” Nosaj said, echoing Nomis’ own words, “treat us this way? You agreed, as we all did, to accept the rule of a high king. Now you want to return to what we once were—savages fighting each other for no greater purpose than to be controlled by them—is that what you want?”

  Silver hair swirling, Nosaj shook his head sharply. He took a deep breath and said, “The lands you speak of are nothing. You have no use for them other than for hunting and there is enough game in all our border lands to satisfy everyone.”

  “And if I do not feel the same?” Nomis challenged.

  “Then you again become pawn to the Dark Ones. And as such, you must answer to each of us before you can challenge Roth. I do not believe, my old friend,” Nosaj said in a gentler voice, “you truly want to do such a thing.”

  Nomis stared at Nosaj for several tense seconds before the anger in his eyes altered. He took in a staggered breath and, almost reluctantly, drew his hand from his sword’s pommel.

  “Thank you.” Nosaj said.

  Nomis shook his head, as if ridding himself of a vision, “I…” He turned to the Roth. “I do not know what came upon me.”

  Roth stood and joined Nomis and Nosaj, putting a hand on each man’s shoulder. “I am blessed by having such strength within this council.”

  Unnoticed by the men, the women looked at each other, their faces reflecting a concern shared by all.

  CHAPTER 4

  “DID YOU SEE his face?” Roth asked through clenched teeth. “He was taken over.”

  “He was…almost, and more could be also as we hold th
ese councils. We must be more attentive,” Enaid said. “His anger invited such.”

  “Too many years of fighting, of death, and of vigilance has gotten us here. How much more will be necessary?”

  Enaid turned to him, a vein on her forehead pulsed angrily. “You of all people.… How can you even ask how much more will be necessary? You know well how much more. Forever! For all time! We must always be alert—always be aware. We cannot allow the world to return to what it once was.”

  Roth withstood the assault of her ire. Then smiling, he crossed the distance between them and took her into his arms. She pulled back, but not too hard. “You are my anchor, Enaid. You are my sounding board. Who else could I ask that question of?”

  When she did not respond, he said, “You know it was frustration speaking?”

  Giving in, she said, “I know. I but remind you of our purpose.”

  “Reminders are what greet me when I open my eyes each morning; they are what I dream of when I close them each night. I need no reminders.”

  Twisting quickly, Enaid escaped his arms. “Then ask not the question if you do not want the answer.” The smile ran from her lips as a frown creased her brow. “I am needed. Luncheon is almost ready. I will meet you in the hall.”

  With that she was gone. Laughing, Roth shook his head. How much more, indeed? The answer did not surprise him as he had found that particular answer years before. As long as it takes. He would not trade anything for the life he now lived. There was a deep purpose to his life now—a journey begun three thousand years before and one he welcomed eagerly every day, almost as eagerly as greeting Enaid upon awakening every morning. How lucky I truly am.