Zayan considered this. “And you think you can defeat him?”
“I have a strong hope that we can. My people have a prophecy that a Chosen One, sent by Ma’uzzi himself, will come, lead the free people against Surok’s army, and slay him. That prophecy has been fulfilled. She has come.”
“She? A woman will kill Surok?”
Kern was forced to chuckle. “A girl, actually. She is seventeen.”
“What? You come into my jungle, telling me stories of wizards and dragons, of Surok’s plans to conquer Quadar, and of a girl who will stop him? Yet all you show me is an old man and a lizard! Go away, wizard. I will not kill you, but neither will I waste any more time listening to your foolish words.” Zayan turned and began to walk away.
“You do not understand!” Kern called after him. “This is no ordinary girl. I know her. I helped train her in our craft. She has surpassed my skill and has been trained for the past months by my mentor, Parnasus. The one who sailed to the Frozen South. And now her craft has in many ways eclipsed even his. Everything about her defies belief. She has matched with a golden queen dragon, who can speak into her mind. No other dragon can do that. Mine is very intelligent, but he cannot talk to me. And her dragon breaths fire. No dragon in the history of Melsa has ever done that. She also possesses great physical talents. I saw her kill nine grown men and, later, a thorrian with a herder’s podstaff.”
The Riddue stopped and turned. “Why does she need a weapon of my making then? Why not kill Surok with her staff?”
“Surok is no human warrior. Neither is he a sea beast. He is far worse, far more formidable than either. Perhaps her power is so great that she could kill Surok with a piece of wood. But I would far rather send her into battle with the weapon and the armor I saw in my vision.”
Zayan stood silent for a moment, mulling over Kern’s words. Either he is mad or he truly believes the things he is telling me, he thought. Finally, he said, “Describe to me the weapon you saw.”
“It was a long stave, made of a metal I had never seen before. It had a blunt bulge on one end, and a sharp blade on the other.”
Again, the Riddue said nothing. Finally, he walked to where Kern stood. “I use a metal called gorrium. It is much stronger than steel but would weigh less than her wooden staff does.” He held an arrow out to Kern. “Feel it,” he said. “This is a gorrium arrow.”
Kern beheld the bolt. It was the color and dull sheen of pewter, with many shimmering crystals in the heart of the metal. “It has no weight at all!” he said in amazement.
“Yet it will fly farther and truer than any arrow you have ever seen, or indeed will ever see. Indeed, if it had been my intention, you would not have seen it at all, but you most certainly would have felt it,” the Riddue said proudly. “Now tell me of the armor you beheld.”
“It was impenetrable, but it fit like comfortable clothing, such was its flexibility. It was neither leather nor iron. I could not determine the material from which it was made.”
“It is called molute. It is a material known only to the Riddue. Soft and supple like leather, but stronger than the heaviest mail.”
So the Sarquahn had resisted him, but it had not lied. His vision had led him to the right place, and he now pleaded his case. “Zayan, it is vital that you make these things for me. It is worth any price you ask. Whatever you want, I will get it for you. Please. The future of Quadar depends upon it.”
“I require nothing. Everything I have ever needed I already possess. The Riddue do not burden themselves with possessions.” Kern thought this answer a bad omen, but then Zayan went on. “There is one thing...”
“Name it,” said Kern.
“I would meet this girl. I have eschewed the company of mankind for the twenty years I have dwelt on Ceekas, and I do not cherish the thought of returning to tread again in human society. But perhaps being amidst wizard-folk is not so foul. And I feel I should see your Chosen One. If I am to arm her, allow me to go with you to present the tools myself.”
This sudden turn was beyond Kern’s wildest hopes. Not only was Zayan apparently willing to craft the tools, but he wished to meet Cerah. Kern knew that Zayan would find the Chosen One to be everything he had said she was. The change in his demeanor seemed sudden, but Kern understood that even a vague description of the Chosen One carried its own enchantment. Perhaps this Riddue was feeling its effect. “It will be as you say. Make these things, and you will fly upon my dragon’s back to my home to meet Cerah.”
Zayan looked at Kern for several minutes, studying his eyes. Finally, he said, “I am not convinced your little dragon can bear us both. But I have decided to believe you, Kern of Melsa. Come, follow me. I will begin working on the weapon and the armor at once. It will take me three days to complete the work, then we will leave for your island.”
“This news is most welcome,” Kern replied. “Your decision to help me shows you are a man of great character, and your name will live forever in the annals of the wizards. And I promise you, when the time comes you will see Szalmi assume his mature form and you will no longer question his ability to bear us home.”
“Hmph. I certainly hope so. Because I don’t think either of us could climb upon that runt.” Szalmi, apparently unaware that he was being insulted, decided at that very moment that he liked Zayan, and he trotted over to him and rubbed his head against the Riddue’s naked leg. Zayan broke into a broad smile. “He is a friendly fellow, I’ll grant you that.”
As Szalmi’s tail spun in happy circles, they walked along the bank of the river. After a few miles, it split into two smaller streams. Nestled between them was a small hut, just as Kern had seen when he Went Within. When they arrived at the site, the Riddue set about his work, as promised, without further discussion. Kern and Szalmi did their best to stay out of his way as he began skillfully crafting the tools that would arm the Chosen One. Only once did he call for Kern’s assistance, asking the wizard to tell him Cerah’s dimensions.
“I will go you one better,” Kern said, and he magically produced a life-sized simulacrum, from which Zayan was able to make precise measurements.
He started his work before dawn each morning and labored late into the night. True to his word, after three days of intensive industry, Zayan produced both an incredible gorrium weapon, which he informed Kern was named Isurra, and a body-suit of inviolable molute. They mirrored Kern’s vision exactly. Zayan handed Isurra to Kern to hold. It was so light as to be nearly weightless, and it balanced perfectly in his hand. The armor, too, was ideal; clearly lightweight and flexible, smooth and, strangely, cool to the touch, but distinctively tough.
“You have done a great service to all free people. With these tools the Chosen One can go forth into battle knowing she is as prepared as is possible.” He bowed deeply to Zayan to show his respect.
“It is time for your part of this bargain,” the Riddue craftsman said, smiling. “Take me to meet the savior of Quadar!”
“Very well. Let us move away from your hut to that assart by the river,” Kern said, pointing to a thickly vegetated patch.
“There is no clearing there,” Zayan said, confused.
Kern grinned, his mischievous eyes twinkling. Pointing his staff, he blasted away an area large enough for Szalmi to maneuver once full-sized. Zayan gasped and leapt backward, but then followed as Kern and Szalmi walked in that direction. When they had reached the spot, Kern said to his match-mate, “Go ahead, friend. Phase up. It is time to head home once more.”
Szalmi shook himself off, then lowered his head and begin phasing. As he did, Zayan’s eyes grew wide. A moment later a full-sized Szalmi let out a loud trumpet and turned to look at the Riddue. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if to say, “What do you have to say now?” The Riddue had a moment of uncertainty, seeing a hint of genuine ferocity on the face of the huge red dragon. But then Szalmi flicked out his long blue tongue and licked Zayan’s face.
The Riddue laughed and gave the great red dragon a pat on the head.
“I’m glad to see he is still friendly. I apologize for doubting you, sir dragon!” He turned to Kern, “And for first doubting you, Kern. Clearly you are a wizard of Melsa. It would have taken me the better part of a day to clear those trees. I’ve never seen anything like that!”
Again, Kern’s eyes showed his impish nature. “Oh, you have seen nothing yet. Cerah of Quadar will challenge your perception of reality far beyond that little parlor trick!”
He placed the saddle bags in which he’d secured Cerah’s armor and some materials that Zayan wanted to bring with him over Szalmi’s neck and showed him the proper way to mount a dragon, reaching out a hand to assist the Riddue onto the red rascal’s back. Zayan held firmly to Isurra.
When all was secure, Kern said, “Away, Szalmi! The Chosen One awaits!”
With a mighty flap of his wings, Szalmi took to the air. As they rose, Zayan let out a whoop of amazement and exhilaration. Already my perception of reality has been shattered. If what Kern says about this Cerah is true…
Soon the continent of Ceekas shrank behind them as Szalmi flew with all his might for Melsa.
Chapter 6
Battleplan
On the day that Russa and Yarren returned to Melsa the sky was a bright blue, devoid of even a single cloud. Birds sang in the trees, which with the impending arrival of winter were still resplendent in hues of orange and yellow. They augmented and amplified the color which was already always everywhere on the island.
Valosa and Barbini touched down in Dragon’s Walk slightly after noon. The young wizards sent word that they desired a meeting with the Chosen One to bring her news of the Army of Quadar. Cerah did not keep them waiting long, summoning them to the Central Flame. Russa was struck by the difference she saw in the young woman’s demeanor. Indeed, her very face seemed changed. Gone was any trace of the girlish innocence that she’d seen upon her the day Slurr had taken her as his bride. Her jaw was set with an almost aggressive cast. Her brown eyes were hardened. Yarren bowed as he approached her. Russa, overwhelmed by the air of authority that Cerah emanated, did the same.
“Come, sit my friends,” Cerah said after standing them up straight and embracing them both. “I am eager to hear the news you bring, but before you begin I must tell you all that has happened here since last we were together.” For the next hour she recounted everything, from Kern’s departure to follow his vision, to the invasion of the Silestra mercenaries, the death of Beru, and the treason of Zenk. She described the thorough pursuit that had been executed across the length and breadth of Melsa in search of the ignoble wizard, thus far in vain. After letting them digest this dire report, she smiled at them, as if to diffuse the gravity of her narrative. “But now! What of your news? Have you met with any success in raising an army?”
“We will gladly tell you everything,” Yarren said, “but I would be remiss if I did not first offer my deepest condolences at the loss of your brother. I cannot begin to imagine your pain.”
“I thank you, of course, Yarren. You are kind and you have been a friend to me since you escorted Slurr and me home on our wedding night. But my pain is irrelevant. I can no longer afford to bask in my own misery. It is the pain of the Green Lands that concerns me now. And that is a pain I mean to minimize. So please, your report.”
Russa again was taken aback by this new Cerah. “We left Nedar after gathering the lead riders from all ten continents,” she said. “When each had summarized his results, we determined that a world-wide force of almost seventy-five thousand had been raised. They are not yet fully armed. Forging weapons for so many, especially after such an extended time of peace, has proven no small task. But their training was begun as soon as the people could be brought together, and it has progressed most satisfactorily.”
Cerah was thrilled at the news. “Seventy-five thousand! That is more than I dared hope for. I had feared that too many of the humans would have grown so comfortable in their years of prosperity that even the vanishing cities would not be enough to shake them from their stupor,” she said.
Now it was Yarren’s turn to be startled by Cerah’s tone and her attitude toward the people among whom she had lived all her life. “The arrival of the riders and the dragons no doubt played a large role in their coming around,” the handsome wizard said, “As the First-Elder had predicted, our insistence that evil days were upon us was met with a mixed response. As you say, their long period of peace and plenty colored their acceptance of our dark declarations. But in the end, it was reality that so many had already been lost that convinced most. As the news of the destruction of the cities and the disappearance of the people spread, our call to arms often cemented the conviction that had already arisen in them.”
“And in our case,” added Russa, “we were aided by a native Kierian named Jessip, an amazing man who won over many that might otherwise have not joined our cause.
“Whatever the reason, it is the result with which I am concerned. We are almost ready to take the war to Surok. The armies of each continent are continuing to drill, yes?”
“Night and day,” said Yarren. “Many skilled leaders have arisen from among the ranks. The wizards have worked mainly with them, helping these captains to learn formations and tactics, which they in turn pass on to their platoons. The last obstacle for us to overcome, as Russa indicated, is the shortage of weapons, but even that is being solved. Anyone with the ability to work metal is pounding it into swords, spears, and armor. Fletchers turn out arrows by the thousands. In two weeks’ time every soldier will be armed.”
“Superb! I will have to convey my thanks in person to your friend Jessip. So great an ally must be recognized.”
As Cerah congratulated them on their success, their discussion was interrupted by a great chorus of trumpets which arose from the dragons’ field. All three looked in that direction and Cerah was delighted to see Szalmi approaching. As she and the young wizards ran to the field, she was surprised to see that Kern was not alone. With him on Szalmi’s back was another man who held a long object in one hand and a sack of animal skin in the other. He was strikingly attractive and athletic looking. He was also practically naked.
“Well met, Kern!” she shouted to her friend.
“Well met, Cerah of Quadar!” Kern replied. “It is my great pleasure to introduce you to Zayan, craftsman of the Riddue.”
“Greetings, Zayan,” said Cerah. “Would I be too bold if I were to say that you must be freezing?”
Zayan smiled only slightly. “Indeed, I am unprepared for your northern climate.”
“Russa, run and bring our guest clothing more suited to the weather,” Cerah said. Kern was both somewhat surprised and very pleased by the authority in her voice. As Russa hurried off, Cerah and Yarren led Kern and the Riddue toward the Central Flame. Zayan could not take his eyes from Cerah. He moved close to Kern and whispered, “You never told me she was so beautiful.”
The wizard turned quickly to face him and said, “Beautiful...and quite married.” Zayan did not reply, but neither did he cease from staring at Cerah.
Russa met them at the fire with a bundle of warm clothing, and Zayan promptly covered himself in multiple layers. Even when dressed he held his hands toward the flames, struggling to thaw them.
Cerah told Kern the news about the raising of the army. The wizard could not contain his delight. “Amazing! Wonderful! I never imagined we would see such numbers.”
“Nor did I,” Cerah said. “Nor did I.”
“In all this talk I’ve quite forgotten my news,” Kern said. He turned to Zayan, reaching for the weapon that he held. “This,” the wizard said, “is Isurra. No weapon of its equal exists. The tales of the Riddue skill is not exaggerated. Take it, Cerah. It is yours.”
Cerah reached out and took the staff from Kern. The second it touched her hand she felt a jolt of energy run down her arm, then through her entire body, as her own spark and magic instantly infused it. So surprised was she by the sensation that she nearly dropped it. She gripped
it more tightly. It felt weightless in her hand. She raised it above her head and spun it, finding it perfectly balanced. It was as if she had carried it her entire life. “Isurra, you said?”
“Yes,” said Zayan. “In the ancestral language of the Riddue it means ‘Stave of Pure Vengeance.’”
The hardness in Cerah’s eyes deepened. “It is well named,” she said. She pointed it toward the fire. Without a spoken word a bolt of pure light issued from the bladed end, causing the flames to erupt higher and hotter.
“I…I didn’t know it could do that,” Zayan stammered.
Cerah turned and looked at him with a steely smile. “It will be capable of many things you cannot imagine,” she said. Already Kern’s promise that meeting Cerah would be a moment the Riddue would long remember seemed to be proving quite true.
Kern reached now for the skin bag that Zayan had set upon the ground beside them.
“And what is held in your satchel?” Cerah asked.
“A treasure as great as your weapon.” He brought out the molute body armor. “Zayan crafted this to your exact dimensions. It is impervious to any blade.”
Cerah immediately removed her cloak and outer layers of clothing until she was wearing only her thin linen blouse and pants. She quickly pulled the armor on, and Zayan stepped up to help her fasten it tightly. It fit her like a glove. Again, her entire body tingled as it seemed to meld itself to her.
“Cerah, what are these feelings?” came Tressida’s voice into her mind. The queen could discern the sensations that her match-mate was experiencing.
“It is my completeness, Tress,” Cerah replied silently.
As she stood by the fire, her body alight from head to toe with pulsating energy, Cerah turned to face Zayan. “I have no words sufficient to thank you for this,” she said.
Many Hidden Rooms Page 9
