“Yes. I cannot. We may be able to open the way to one who can.”
“A portal…” Mirsa whispered. “A portal that you would open here could only lead…”
“You disapprove?” Aelion asked.
“No…” Mirsa shook her head. “I’ve opened many Dark portals, with only the failing light as a focus. Four of my classmates and I could not even begin to open a Light portal at noontime.”
“With my help, you’ll do just that. Are you ready to begin?”
Seeing Mirsa nod, Aelion motioned for her to step closer to the throne. “Who will accompany Kevon?”
Alanna’s fingers twined around Kevon’s.
“I’ll be seeing these new horizons for myself,” Yusa mused.
“Well done. Three should suffice.” The Elder stood to one side of the throne, and knelt, facing it. Mirsa watched him, and stepped to the other side, mirroring his actions.
The bound light infusing the throne and surrounding hillside shifted, concentrating, purifying itself even further, twisting and braiding into a form before the throne that Kevon could see with open eyes, without concentration. The arched framework seemed to glitter, waves of power spreading outward from each sparkle, washing over the semi-transparent construct.
“Now.”
Kevon saw the Light rune form in Mirsa’s mind, and with the sun overhead providing the initial push, the portal spell expanded within the Elder’s guidelines. Soft warm light radiated from the doorway between Mirsa and Aelion, bright enough to obscure the view beyond, but soft enough to gaze into.
“I don’t need to remind you of the…”
“The light. We get it.” Alanna squeezed Kevon’s hand. “Ready?”
Kevon gazed into her eye for a moment, and turned to face the portal. “Let’s go.”
Kevon and Alanna stepped through together, melting into the warm light. Yusa grimaced, edged through sideways, and was gone.
Chapter 22
“We’ve camped here two nights, and still no sign of the ship,” Carlo complained, gazing out over the waves toward the northeastern horizon. “I would have preferred riding to Eastport.”
“It would have taken weeks longer, and I don’t fancy a path through dark woods, after what we’ve been through,” Alma retorted. “The prince sent Magi to Eastport to charter passage on a ship that meets us here. This is closer to Navlia, and closer to the Glimmering Isle than Eastport is. Have a little patience.”
“We haven’t been attacked in a week or better,” Martin offered, “And the troops Alacrit assigned to us have been the only thing keeping us alive.”
Carlo frowned, and poked at the fire with a stick. “They slowed us down, at first. It took half of the infantry dying, and two of the archers, before they could keep our pace. And that last battle… four of those Obsidian Reapers?”
“We lost a Mage in that fight, too,” Alma reminded him. “The other three have been on edge since then, not sleeping for a day or more at a time.”
“It’s possible he was a traitor,” Carlo spat into the fire. “No sign of the enemy since he died? Good riddance.”
“If there was a traitor, let us pray he is no longer with us,” Alma agreed. “The damage he could do aboard ship might be more than on land, and we’ll be shipbound soon enough.” She pointed to the triangle of sail to the north that caught the last rays of evening light.
* * *
“The three Magi are quartered in one of the upper cabins. We have infantry and Stoneguard rotating watches on that cabin, inside and out. Dwarven regulars and our archers patrolling the decks. More watching over cannon in the hold. The sailors are nervous. If this were a commercial vessel, we’d be over the side already.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Carlo turned to Alma. “Anything further on the Magi?”
“They’re drained from yesterday, pushing the ship to the edge of the shallows. Fighting to keep their sanity while we sail over the depths.”
“The crew says that we should be able to follow a nearby island chain most of the way, they estimate nearing them in less than a day,” Martin reported. “It’s a longer route, but given our capabilities,”
“Longer is faster, direct is dangerous,” Carlo muttered. “Nothing is ever simple with them, is it? Supplies?”
“More than enough,” Alma assured him. “We had provisions for nearly twice as many mouths, plus the extra on the ship. Three weeks or more, for a trip that should take four more days?”
“Only four, eh?”
“Depending on the Magi. You saw what the three of them together did our first day aboard.” Alma shuddered. “I don’t even like to think about it.”
Carlo nodded, remembering where, in the shallowest parts of the sea, the wake of their passage had exposed the ocean floor. The thundering of the torn seas colliding behind them, and the trail of dead fish that surged around them when the Magi slowed their mad rush still echoed in his dreams, and tainted his nostrils. “Let’s say five days.”
“I’ll let them know, as soon as they’re coherent,” Alma reassured Carlo. “Will there be anything else?”
“You three are free to go,” Carlo waved them toward the door. “You…” he said, pointing toward the Dwarven translator, “I have more questions for.”
The translator spoke a few words in his native tongue, and his Stoneguard companion followed the others out of the room. “What do ye need te know?”
“Sending so many of your people to help Kevon, there must be more to it than an old picture.”
The dwarf fidgeted.
“Your work alongside us so far has been a great stride in relations between us,” Carlo warned, “Do not let secrets kept from us prevent the possibility of a deeper alliance.”
“There’s been little said, even since we left the Hold,” he admitted. “Whispers of ancient lore… Britger-Stoun may know more.”
Carlo waited, his eyes never moving from the dwarf’s face.
“Ah. One more thing…” the dwarf’s eyes shifted aside under Carlo’s gaze. “Every dwarf that left the Hold fer this mission… swore a blood oath te protect the Blademage with their lives.”
“I see.” Carlo thought a moment. “Your boys take that kind of thing seriously?”
“They do. Oathbreakers are killed or banished from the Hold. Their family names are marred by shame fer generations.”
“I suppose that will have to do until we rejoin the others.” Carlo nodded to the dwarf. “Unless you remember something else?”
“Aye. Ye’ll be the first te know.”
“Remember that,” Carlo cautioned, gesturing to the cabin door.
As the door closed, Carlo moved to the bunk in the corner of the room, to rest his eyes for the first time in over two days.
* * *
The wave assisted Carlo’s roll to his feet instants after the knock at the cabin door. His sword was in his hand before his eyes were open and adjusted to the dim light from the porthole.
“What is it?” he called, lowering his weapon once he realized the room was clear.
“Islands ahead, sir!” The Lieutenant’s voice distorted through the thick mahogany door. “The Magi are ready!”
Carlo glanced at the burnt out candle stump, and realized he’d slept for five hours, at the very least. “Tell them to start slowly!” he shouted back to his officer. The Blademaster sheathed his sword, and stretched, joints protesting the denial of rest they’d been promised.
The cabin shifted, and Carlo grasped the edge of the desk that was bolted down in the center of the room. “I told him slow.” he grumbled. Carlo waited for the initial swell to pass, and then opened the door to the hallway outside. He passed two closed doors, then took the stairs up, two at a time, to emerge through the already opened door to the main deck. A few steps forward, and Carlo could see one of the Magi over his shoulder, on the upper deck near the railing to starboard. He shifted his gaze over his other shoulder to see the Mage stationed on the port side.
�
�I don’t know why we bother steering while they’re up there,” the captain shook his head as Carlo neared.
“Control,” Carlo answered, stepping around the man as he made his way to the stairway beyond. “Or its appearance.”
The Blademaster made his way to the top deck, passing the younger Mage he’d spotted to starboard, and headed toward the silver-haired Wizard who stood near the back railing.
“Rough journey, lately,” Carlo remarked as he closed in on the blue-cloaked figure.
“Some of us have lesser tolerances for the elements,” he laughed, turning to face Carlo. “Weaving together three minds of such differing abilities is a tricky thing.”
“Only one Mage I’m interested in right now,” Carlo stated flatly. “How fast can you get me to him?”
“The heretic?” The Wizard’s lip curled in disdain.
“That heretic slew an Orclord, and instead of suckling at the teat of fame, went about his business.” Carlo shook his head. “The Orclord was only a sign of the darkness that has fallen over our lands. He searches for the cause, and the means to correct it. I’d advise you to do as much for the Realm, before you stand against him in judgment.”
“The laws have been in place-”
“For as long as anyone can remember,” Carlo finished the Wizard’s sentence, and laughed. “Who among you remembers an Orclord? Think on that. Move the ship. Obey your prince.”
Defiant eyes tracked the back of Carlo’s head as he moved to the lower deck, and out of sight. The Wizard calmed himself before reaching out again to touch the minds of his fellow Magi. Marshalling their focused energy, drawing from the sea below, and wrapping his guidance around it all, the waters below surged upward and onward.
* * *
Hours beyond the effort that should have been attempted, the Wizard felt the lure of the sea lessen. He extended his awareness, and felt the island ahead, not more than a handful of hours at their current pace. He began to withdraw his rigid control of the spell that he had held for nearly half the day, and felt one of the other Magi retaking that responsibility.
He staggered across the upper deck to the Mage’s cabin, passing by Carlo’s perch near the wheel. “Perhaps you find my service acceptable?”
“The sailors told me when we passed into the depths,” Carlo nodded. “You risked all our lives to prove your point, and we’re further along because of it. Well done.”
“Only hours to go,” the Wizard agreed. “Wake me when it’s over.”
Chapter 23
Kevon blinked, but the brilliance that surrounded him did not even blur, and his eyes reopened. The tang of Light magic that had enveloped him as he passed through the gateway slipped away, fleeing to the furthest reaches of his mind, but not vanishing completely.
“I’ll assume it’s not just me, then,” he laughed, watching his companions wave their hands in front of their eyes.
Alanna frowned, steadying herself on the ivory-shaded replica of the throne they’d left on the other side of the vanished gateway. “It’s gone… they were supposed to hold it open?”
Yusa whistled. “Not such a loss, if you ask me.” The ship captain pointed down the path to a meadow below, where a herd of unicorn chased whirling bits of light.
“We’re not staying,” Kevon reminded Yusa, glancing upward to the sky. A smooth light, as bright as the sun, filled everything above the horizon. “We don’t belong here.” He patted the sword at his belt, took Alanna’s hand in his, and started down the path.
“They’re not eating,” Yusa observed, as they neared the meadow at the bottom of the hill. Sections of the unicorn herd wheeled about the meadow like flocks of birds, leaping and turning in waves that defied explanation. Others lay basking in the brilliant glow from overhead, but not one in the herd of several hundred had taken a bite of grass, that they could recall seeing.
“Well,” Kevon shrugged. “I’m not tired, or thirsty. It’s been a good hour since we crossed over…”
“I would have said half that,” Alanna argued.
“It’s been three if it’s been a minute,” Yusa declared. “But I’m not tired, either. This… place…”
“I’m not fearful,” Kevon commented, “But suggest we all remain on guard.”
“Agreed,” Yusa took a step away from the thundering brilliance of the unicorn herd that passed no more than an arm’s length from them.
“There!” Alanna pointed to the lights that swirled in the wake of the herd, which slipped away to dance around the three of them.
The gleaming bits of light crisscrossed in and around the group, evading contact by as little as inches, sliding across the periphery of Kevon’s consciousness like distant Enchantments. “Amazing,” he laughed.
“See?” Alanna pointed to the only thing even resembling a building in the distance, almost out of view in the ambient brilliance. The lights spun and leapt between the group and what seemed to be their destination.
“It’ll take us a day to get there,” Kevon shrugged.
“Or a few hours,” Alanna tugged at his arm, the lights separating as she pushed into their midst, framing her against the glowing landscape.
“That’s a week afoot,” Yusa grumbled, “At least. But there’s nowhere else to go.”
“And no need to rest,” Kevon laughed as the light-spirits jangled noiselessly about him in Alanna’s wake.
The path up wound through brightly colored fields and valleys, each twist exposing another canvas painted with brilliant flowers and twirling fauna.
“Have the two of you been seeing elves?” Kevon asked, squinting, to absolutely no effect, at the horizon.
“A few, at the edge of my vision,” Alanna confirmed.
“Not so bold as these fellows behind us,” Yusa said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the dozen frolicking Unicorn behind them, the holdouts from the group of fifty or more that had started following them out of the lower valley.
A cloud of lantern-bugs swirled by, blinking and buzzing to a tune Kevon felt he should know. He could not tell if the melody that he felt pulsating through his mind was because of the glittering insects, or if they were performing to music that they heard as he did. After a moment, he stopped wondering, and just enjoyed.
* * *
“Kevon…”
“Yes?” he answered, looking up at Alanna, who crouched over him.
“You’re awake. Open your eyes.”
Kevon struggled to raise his heavy lids, succeeding after a few moments, to Alanna’s benefit. The brilliance of his surroundings was already full and clear behind his closed eyes. “I was asleep?”
“I don’t know if that would be called sleep, or not,” Yusa muttered, stepping into view. “I think after more than a day, it’s called something else.”
“More than a…” Kevon stretched, used the tree trunk he was leaned back against to climb to his feet.
“Just a few hours,” Alanna corrected. “We were worried, all the same.”
“I was watching the lantern-bugs…” he mumbled.
“And you collapsed. Yusa wanted to strap you on a unicorn and haul you up the hill.”
“If I’d brought any rope…” the ship captain grumbled.
“If he was in a hurry, he could have carried me,” Kevon laughed. “We haven’t gotten tired here yet.”
“We hadn’t passed out, either,” Yusa retorted.
Kevon glanced around, and pointed to the upward-winding path. “Still headed that way? No sense in waiting around.” He hurried to the path, striking out in front, letting his eyelids close again once neither of his companions could see.
The path continued for what seemed like ages before they even got another glimpse of their destination. Freed from the bonds of normal fatigue, Kevon kept up a brisk pace, faster than he would have gone on the other side of the portal. Even so, a weariness of spirit crept up on him, his eyes closing involuntarily more and more as the journey wore on.
“Elves,” Yusa called from
behind Alanna, back down the path. “More, and closer.”
Kevon turned to see what the sailor was talking about, only half managing to open his eyes before Alanna saw his face.
“You’re still not well!” She rushed to his side, wrapping an arm around him for support.
“That’s why we’re here,” Kevon inhaled sharply as Alanna’s supporting arm tightened around him.
“Just being here cures a handful of ails,” Yusa noted. “My left knee, both my wrists, have not ached since we crossed over.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Some things are beyond help.”
“Take his other side,” Alanna ordered Yusa, sliding her neck and shoulders under Kevon’s left arm. “Time is anyone’s guess in this place, but it still passes. We should hurry.”
Kevon grunted as Yusa maneuvered under his right arm, then stooped to balance out with Alanna on the other side.
“Let’s do so,” the captain said, taking a tentative step forward, waiting for Alanna to match up with his stride. “The fact I can carry him all day, does not mean I wish to.”
* * *
“I know we have no rope,” Yusa griped, “but still, I am tempted to throw him astride one of these pale beasts, and hope for the best.”
“We’re in view of the…” Alanna slowed, and readjusted Kevon’s arm around her neck. “Building? Whatever it is.”
“Aye. And the natives are… thickening.” Yusa swept his gaze from the trio of unicorn that still followed them, across the broad field to the side, and the sprinkling of elves that danced through it. “Not much for talking, not that I’m complaining.”
“Not much for clothing, either,” Alanna focused on the structure ahead, as an ageless Elven maiden spun across the path in front of them, a floral wreath about her head, and budding vines coiled and draped in lieu of other vestments.
“No tattoos, these folk,” Yusa observed. “Maybe the hunters…”
“I doubt there are hunters here,” Kevon whispered. “The Light… sustains.”
Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3) Page 11
