by Jean Johnson
Kerric quickly lifted both hands, cutting off the further comments that started to emerge from the scryings of the men and women in their little mirrors-within-a-mirror windows. “Please, milords, miladies, fellow Guardians. I will explain if you’ll let me. As you may know, one of my specialties is mirror-based magics. A few years back, with the blessings of several pertinent Patron Deities from around Aiar, or at least their clergy, I was able to craft a special mirror that could peer one year into the future . . . and just a few months ago, I saw the mighty Empire of Fortuna being overrun by what looked like a massive demonic army from a Netherhell.”
Shocked silence reigned for a moment, then several of the others started to raise their voices in protests, questions, and denials. Saleria kept silent, but only because the news wasn’t a shock to her. Nor was it to the dark-haired Dominor of Nightfall, whose blue eyes had narrowed in a thoughtful frown. Guardians Marton and Suela looked and sounded the most offended, asserting firmly and loudly that such a thing could never happen in their homeland. Guardian Kerric raised his hands again.
“Please! Some of you already know of this, and the mirror has been tested for the accuracy of its foreseeings. If things do not change, then these invasions will happen . . . but that is the key, isn’t it? Things can and may change . . . which means for the worse, or for the better. The first image happened shortly after the disaster with Guardian Sheren’s Fountain, which has since been shut down for the interim, which is why she hasn’t been included in this conference. Hopefully, she will finish recovering and get her Fountain reconnected to the rest of us so that she can join these discussions, but as Menomon is one of the few places I have not seen under attack, same as with Althinac and a few other rare places, we can use those lands as a . . . a controlled test subject, where we know nothing they do out of the normal will alter anything in the years ahead.
“The important news, good gentles, is that after figuring out how to refocus my future-scrying mirror, I have been able to project it anywhere from one year up to five years into the future . . . and I have repeatedly seen hints and images of demonic invasions from the Netherhells. Some days they go away, other days they come back. As I said, these images change from hour to hour, day to day, based upon tiny actions and influences that seemingly have no connecting threads.
“In fact,” Kerric added dryly, “the very first image came when I was debating whether to exile a group of invasive traitors either to Darkhana or to Arbra. When I chose Darkhana, the visions came back, but choosing Arbra negated the visions of Fortuna being invaded within a year. I have since kept an eye upon the exiles with the help of Guardian Sir Vedell and most recently Guardian Alonnen. Some of their actions may or may not cause the demonic invasion . . . but some seemingly have nothing to do with it, as one of the visions shifted in the middle of the night, when all involved were sleeping innocently. Or as innocently as power-hungry thieves might get.”
The Guardian of the Vortex spoke up. Aside from that rather hawkish nose and those green lenses, there wasn’t much to be seen of his cap-and-scarf-covered head. His voice was a mild, low tenor, proving he was at least as male as his looks suggested. “I can corroborate their activities, as they have come within the far edges of my scrying range. In the last three weeks, they have hired themselves out as an extremely effective mercenary group to various holdings along the Mekhanan-Arbran border, and have been able to disarm or disable any number of Mekhanan engineering items.”
“Skills they no doubt picked up while running the gauntlets of the Tower,” Kerric apologized. “Let’s hope they continue to fight for a righteous cause, though I apologize in advance if they turn to the other side.”
Alonnen shrugged. “The Arbrans aren’t too sorry at the moment, since it’s been wreaking havoc against their long-standing enemy. I also heard a rumor just before this meeting that the current bounty on their heads on the Mekhanan side of the border is rather substantial, since one of them is a fairly powerful mage . . . and powerful mages usually attract very unwanted attention within that land.”
Kerric nodded and picked up the thread of the discussion. “As you can see, one group of people can have a huge impact on the world. We think they are only a small part of the Netherhell problem, however. In over half of the images so far, the worst of it starts within Mekhana’s unpleasant borders within half a year or so, except when something happens to the priesthood within Mekhana. Then the invasions start in other lands. But we don’t know what happens to cause the collapse of their priesthood.”
“A collapse of their priesthood would be a good thing,” Sir Vedell stated dryly. “But that would only happen if their thrice-blighted God went away.”
“You said it moves to other lands. What lands would those be?” Keleseth of Senod-Gra asked, her tone clipped, her age-lined face stern with impatience. She repeated herself as Kerric glanced down, checking his notes. “You said Menomon and Althinac and Senod-Gra are not involved, but which ones are?”
“Actually, Senod-Gra is, in some of those visions, and Althinac is one of your nearest neighbors, of this gathering,” Kerric told her. He lifted a clear pane of crystal into view and tapped on it with his fingers, summoning up glowing writing. “So far, my analysis has identified the following locations as potential starting points, with anywhere from just one vision through to many repeating incidents: Mekhana has the most, followed by the Jenodan Isles, Charong, Mendhi, Senod-Gra, the Draconan Empire, three kingdoms in Aiar—including Pasha, Amaz, and Garama—plus Fortuna at least twice, and Nightfall Isle just the once, with no repeats since . . . but with no guarantee it couldn’t come back around to starting there, either. Or that it couldn’t start in Katan, or Aurul . . . or worse, a land we have no way to easily watch over.”
“Such as Garama?” Tuassan of Amaz repeated, his tone skeptical. “I think my Fountain is connected to every single Fountainway on Aiar—and I know yours is, Guardian Kerric—but I’ve never heard of any such Guardianship in the land of Garama.”
The Guardian of the Tower grimaced. “Unfortunately, there used to be a Fountain and Guardian in the Garama region of the old Aian Empire . . . but it was lost when the Empire Shattered, and there’s no powerful school of mages nearby I could contact as a substitute for examining whatever events might trigger a demonic emergence there, of all places. I’m hoping to arrange an expedition to Garama to look for its remnants, to see if the Fountain has been sealed somehow, or if it is still there. I will select a trustworthy mage from among my own staff and oath-bind them to manage the Fountain if it still exists and is unguarded . . . but I won’t hold my breath.”
“Well, don’t look for much help from Pasha for the time being,” Guardian Daemon stated. He rubbed his short-trimmed, sandy blond goatee, cropped as closely as the matching blond hair on his head, then flicked his hand out expressively. “On the bright side, I doubt any of the king’s sons would dare go so far as to dabble in demonic pacts in order to gain the throne. But we are embroiled in a nasty civil war at the moment. I have my hands full protecting my Fountain and trying to keep the worst of the magics being flung about from wrecking too much of the land, for the non-mages’ sakes.”
Saleria blinked, frowned, and turned away from the mirror, trying to think. “What was that . . . What was it that he showed me . . . ?”
“Guardian Saleria?” Kerric asked. “You have something to say?”
Turning back to the mirror, she nodded. “Yes, prophecies. I have a guest from Darkhana who is helping me with something—helping a lot of us, around the whole world—with something found in a set of prophecies. Guardian Daemon’s comment about people trying to claim the throne made me think of one of its lines . . . hold on . . .” Wracking her memory, she dredged up the line. “Something something . . . ah! By mates and friends, by guides and aides, by outworlder on throne. That was it. Perhaps you should be looking for your solution outkingdom, instead of from within, if the prophec
y speaks of the need for a leader on a throne?”
One of the other Guardians coughed. Dominor lifted his fist to his mouth for a moment, clearing his throat. “I am fairly certain that one is referring to our ‘outworlder on throne’ . . . which has yet to fully happen, but which will happen soon. At least, she’s the only outworlder I know of, and she’s already here, working on turning Nightfall into a kingdom with herself as our queen.”
“There was something about fiends in the prophecy I read as well,” Saleria said, peering at his face in its rectangle in the uppermost left corner of the mirror. “And ‘fiends’ is commonly used as a nickname for Netherhell demons. Which is why I thought it might apply.”
Pelai spoke, catching their attention. “The Guardian of the Grove is correct about one thing. Prophecy may very well have something to do with all of this. I will request the librarians in the Great Library to look for records of unfulfilled prophecies involving the Netherhells, demons, fiends, wars, and invasions.”
“We have a fairly extensive library here as well, which I could have the nuns search.” The offer came from the white-wimpled, middle-aged woman named Mother Naima.
Guardian Dominor groaned and covered his face with a hand. “For the love of the Gods, Naima, don’t tell Serina what you’re up to. She’s fretting enough over her pregnancy.”
Mother Naima snorted. “As if I would! By the way, you should be coming over soon, yes?”
“Yes, but not until this meeting is done,” he dismissed. “And I’ll not be upsetting my brothers or sister-in-law just yet over speculations on something that might not happen, and so far probably won’t begin on Nightfall itself . . . though I will give this problem my attention. Once my wife finishes giving birth, that is.”
Kerric, Saleria noted with a bit of sympathetic amusement, looked like he was striving his best not to be impatient at all the sidetracked conversations. He cleared his throat after a moment. “Ahem. As I was saying, we all have things to contribute in this discussion. Since we have at least a few months before we’d probably have to act in some fashion, I would like to send each of you the sets of recordings I have made so far from the future-scrying mirror, and my notes on locations and possible triggering events. Not that I have many of the lattermost, but at least it’s a start.
“Each of you know your own regions far better than I ever will,” he added pointedly. “I am setting aside a portion of the Tower’s scrycasting abilities and powers to work as a routing matrix; these mirrors we’re using all link to here and thus to each other, so please feel free to use them to talk to each other. And though some of us have more direct and immediate problems in our own lands to contend with, we are all Guardians of this world, defenders and protectors of its most precious resources. This includes our neighbors both distant and near, as well as ourselves, our families, and close friends. The Netherhells are therefore all our problem.”
“What sized crystal will we need to store the scrycast recordings in?” the gold-eyed, middle-aged Ilaiea asked. She sounded rather autocratic, as if she were more accustomed to being in charge than most Guardians in Saleria’s admittedly limited experience. Still, the odd, golden-eyed woman had a practical question.
Saleria didn’t have a crystal, though. Technically the crystal at the end of the staff lying on the ground a few steps away was more than large enough, but it was bound with spells for empowering the cutting and scorching end of the staff, and meant mostly for storing and releasing energy in a controlled flow. “I don’t have any crystals around for storage, myself.”
Kerric held up his hand as a few of the others started to explain whether or not they did as well. “It’s alright if you don’t. I know Keleseth, Tuassan, Daemon, and a few of the others have the capacity to store and manipulate scrycast recordings, but it won’t be necessary. I have prepared enough scrycasting Artifacts for everyone. I’ll send them through, one at a time, in a moment. They’ll come in pre-spelled cages, which can be used to project the captured images onto a flat, whitewashed wall—and yes, I’ll send them with instruction scrolls. They’re common among some of our clients, but only a few of you may have seen them before.
“Brother Moon will be at new-dark in four more days,” he continued. “Let’s have our next mass scrycast meeting at that point in time . . . and I’ll continue to experiment with the forescrying mirror and see what new information I can turn up. Please write down your observations and ideas, however wild. At this point, I’m willing to consider anything. Can everyone agree to meet again in four days? You’re free to contact each other between now and then; just activate your mirrors in the usual ways and state the name of the Guardian and/or their location to make the connections. Or call for ‘the Tower’ to reach one of my assistants, who can help connect you if you’ve forgotten a particular name, since there are quite a lot of us at this meeting. In four days, then? At the same time? We can arrange for other, better times at that meeting, once we all know our schedules and can correlate them to one anothers’.”
A few murmured agreements, and a few nodded their heads, including Saleria, but no disagreements met his proposal. Kerric nodded and started naming Guardians, distributing the crystals with half-seen flicks of his hands. Watching him, Saleria almost missed when it was her own turn to catch the incoming Artifact and scroll. Mostly because she was envious that he clearly knew exactly how to manipulate the powers of his own Fountain, and could do it so well.
Catching the cage and scroll as she had the mirror and its scroll, she cradled them in her hands and nodded a farewell to the others. The mirror flared blue for a moment, terminated at Kerric’s end, then became a simple reflective surface, showing her the dimly lit environment of the Bower. Without the other Guardians to focus on, she could hear the plop of an occasional droplet of sap hitting its designated pool. She could also hear the evening breeze rustling through the leaves beyond the protective cage of the Bower, and the faint buzz of insects.
Insects which could very well be morphing into part-plant hybrids . . . An unsettling thought. Hoping it wasn’t so, Saleria debated what to do. She had the caged crystal, with its gem-strung wire box, and a scroll on what to do with it, but barely sufficient light to read the instructions, and no white wall to play the captured images against once she did. She had the pruning staff, which she picked up . . . but she had no portable light source other than its faint, low-charged glow to lead her on the paths out of here.
She also had a fellow mage somewhere out there, one who had only experienced a small taste of the Grove’s weirdnesses and dangers. Reworking her clothes, she belted her overjacket so that she could tuck the caged crystal and the scroll into it. That left her hands free to wield her staff. Charging the end with enough personal power to make it glow, she headed out of the Bower.
The mirror chimed, startling her. Returning to the patiently hovering frame, she held her crystal-topped staff off to one side to keep it from blinding either her or her unexpected caller, and activated the mirror with her free hand. “Baol.”
To her surprise, it was Guardian Shon Tastra . . . though she didn’t know why she should be surprised. The older gentleman smiled and dipped his head politely. “Guardian Saleria . . . we are given to understand you are hosting a Darkhanan Witch, is this correct?”
“Yes, a man . . . a pair of men,” she corrected herself, “by the names Aradin and Teral.”
“Just Aradin Teral, no ‘and,’” the Guardian Witch corrected gently. “But yes, I understand what you meant. In fact, my Guide, Tastra, spoke with Teral just a little while before Guardian Kerric’s scrycast. Based on some of her conversation with him, I wanted to reassure you personally that we—the Church of Darkhanan Witches—did indeed assign him to the Empire of Katan to look for a suitable representative of your people before the Convocation of Gods and Man, and that Tastra has verified Teral’s queries of the Dark regarding your suitability.”
Tha
t was the first Saleria had heard of it, but then again, her thoughts right after Teral’s return had first focused on the awkwardness of her kissing two men in one body, then on the tasks of the Keeper, re-energizing the wards that kept the weirdnesses of the Grove confined as much as possible within its walls.
“And the answer to that query would be . . . ?” she probed delicately.
“That you are eminently suitable. As a fellow priest, I thank you for your willingness to represent the best interests of your people,” Guardian Shon stated, giving her a slight but formal bow. “Aradin Teral will have more details for you, but since you and I have had the chance to meet more directly, I should like to reassure you that the Witches of Darkhana will be at your disposal for movement to and from the place of the Convocation, once we have firmly identified it and established the exact timing of the event.
“Since we cannot at this time guarantee exactly what sort of facilities will be available,” Shon added, turning one hand over in a shrug, “my recommendation is that you pack and keep ready a bag with a few changes of clothes, some coinage for emergency funds, and a little bit of travel-ready food, just in case. Past records of previous Convocations have stated that entire retinues have traveled with the priesthoods of the various Patron Deities, along with baggage trains . . . but those were in the days when the great Portals worked, and everyone knew exactly what sort of hosting facilities the long-established Aian Empire had to offer. This time, it will be in the incipient kingdom of Nightfall, with who knows what level of amenities at hand.”
“I understand—and I thank you for reassuring me of all of this,” Saleria added politely. “I hadn’t thought of the need to pack a traveling bag so soon, but it is a good idea.”
“Just remember, we do not know exactly when the Convocation is set to resume,” Shon cautioned her. “It could be three days from now, or three weeks, or three months. We only know that it will take place within roughly half a year. It is better to be ready than to be regretful.”
