The Shard of Fire

by K. J. Parker

  “The letter is from the Warrick Council in the capital. It says that on the last night of the competition, someone took the shard from the statue in Astal. They don’t know who … or how … but they suspect a magi of the Pillar Kingdom, and everyone in the village is dead. However, a few peasants managed to escape in the chaos and made their way to the military fort at Penth. Penth sent men to Astal, but it was too late, it was, a massacre. Most of the competitors had killed each other, and the villagers. The soldiers from Penth also found the body of mage Tolin,” Monith glanced around the table at several confused looks, “for those of you unaware, Tolin was sent this year to preside over the competition. It says they found his corpse a few miles from the town, in the woods, though, from the rot of decay they think he was drowned several weeks earlier, long before the competition even started. Further, the Warricks have sent letters to all the Houses, asking for information, asking if any are claiming the shard, or if they know who has it. They are asking us, too. All the kingdoms will know of the shard within weeks … if not already …” Monith fumed thinking of how long the letter had been sitting in Mendoc. “The letter says that King Schencon has declared a call to arms. If Pillar does not return the shard to the Mountain Kingdom, the Huu-Di will go to war …” Moniths voice trailed off lost in thought. Was this Schencon’s plan all along?

  In the next moment the council erupted once more in a volley of questions and comment, arguing and yelling and fighting around the table, “We won’t support a war! We must support the King! If we don’t the King will attack us! Let him try! Where is the shard now? Did you know this had happened? Who could possibly take the shard? How in Velor’s name did they take it? What will they do with it? We won’t support a war! We must support the King! Where is …” Valik, who had up to this point sat silently in his chair, listening, nodded to Aldrin for assistance. Aldrin tilted his head for a moment, unsure, then made the same air symbol as before, silencing the room. Monith glared at him worse this time, as Valik leaned forward, raising a hand to speak.

  “My dear fellow council members and esteemed archmages, you are all missing the point of that letter …” Everyone at the table turned their eyes towards Valik and then, at the scroll. After waiting a long while for someone to ask, Valik sighed, heavily, and filled in the blanks.

  “If Tolin was already dead, who presided over the competition?”

  -------

  They had been searching for Master Amas for several hours. They searched dark mausoleums dedicated to long past archmages, dozens of large plinths scribed with a thousand names of fallen tyro, and hundreds of stone plaques embedded in the ivy covered slopes aside the many many staircases. Whether tomb, or stone, or plaque, each marker told of its owner, their name, and their end. Some were grand, Here lies Archmage Nomica, defender of the eternal realms, keeper of twilight, friend of the Fae, and destroyer of dragons, others were subtle, Master Dron Alvat, his loyal service to the Keep lasted many years, most were simple, Tyro Rywen - died y.342, Master Grunn - died y.667, yet no matter how small or big or old, no marker was ever blank.

  When the rains came they stopped for a while to build a small fire, huddling in a shallow cave facing away from the castle. Tarr had spotted the cave by accident, for it was not on any path or stairway, but a good ways off from both, clutched under the roots of a massive elm tree, fallen and dead, and high on a hillside. The cave was small, broad mouthed, rain worn, and musty. Dangling roots clumped in thick patches from its roof, dripping rain and muck into the fire. It reminded Gil of the cave in the mountains where he hid from the wolves, and he shivered thinking it.

  “We should go back, you're sick …” Carmine spoke up as the other stared out at the rain in silence.

  “I’m not, I’m fine, we need to keep looking,” Gil’s voice was strained as his eyes flashed with certainty and madness. He knew it the moment they had walked under the skull, Master Amas was here, somewhere, he could feel it, though he didn’t know why. Sela stared at Gil. She wasn’t smiling anymore. She was concerned. Tarr and Carmine exchanged looks.

  “Link, I think Carmine is ri—” Sela paused suddenly. She had been staring at the cave wall behind Gil, not wanted to look him in the eye when she spoke. The others turned and looked at where she pointed. Rain had been seeping in from the slope above, running a thin watery line across the cave’s lip, curving and flowing down the gentle slope of the roof, curving and flowing across the back wall, washing and wiping the dirty muddy earth away, and with it, revealing stone. It was smooth, old, and dark. Ancient stone. Forgotten stone. Gil scooped a branch from the fire as all four stood and walked to the wall where the stone was showing through the mud. They starred for sometime, as Gil held out the burning branch, illuminating a thin line that had appeared at the edge of the stone, washed clean and revealed from the rainwater.

  Gil handed the torch to Carmine and quickly began wiping away more of the mud, splashing and flicking the dribbling water across its surface. He dug his fingers into the line and followed it around the stone, scraping and rubbing and pulling muck and mud from its edge. Sela stepped forward and helped. A few moments later they had cleared the surface of the stone and stepped back, hands covered in muck, their sleeves, their coats, wet, heavy and dirty. No one knew what to say. The dark stone was a single large sheet and the thin line now visible, surrounded it. Left, right, bottom and top. A smooth graceful arc. A door. It was a door, a simple and blank stone slab, it had no handle, or lock, or key, but it was a door nonetheless. As the four stood staring, wondering just why such a thing was hidden in a cave far off the pathways and out of sight of the castle, more rainwater poured in over the lip of the cave, running down the wall, running across the stone door making its way towards the floor to puddle as before, but didn’t. As the water cross over the now exposed stone, it stopped. It swirled and turned and clumped together, binding and growing and forming on the door’s surface, forming shapes, letters, a word.

  “AMAS”

  Before anyone could speak, Gil lunged forward and hit the stone with the flat of his palm, whispering the opening spell Carmine had taught him. The stone shattered in an instant and crumbled into a dozen large pieces that fell down a darkened staircase hidden behind the door. Wind rushed past them, racing down the stairs and howling into the abyss below.

  “Why did you do that!” Carmine shouted. Gil shrugged. He wasn’t exactly sure himself. Sela, Tarr and Carmine all stared at Gil, glancing down into the vast emptiness below, then, at each other. Gil grabbed the torch from Carmine and stepped through the broken doorway. The other three glanced at each other, their faces blank, unsure, worried, and confused. A moment later Tarr stepped through the opening following Gil, as did Sela. Carmine stood in the cave alone, watching the torchlight of the three descend into the depths below. Biting his lip, he paced back and forth several times then shouted down at them, “this is a terrible idea!” his words echoing through the abyss. When the echo finally stopped, and no one answered, Carmine grabbed a branch from the fire and followed into the darkness.

  Carefully the four descended a long twisting staircase into the depths below. At times it was steep, and damp, and rough, and though they couldn’t see beyond the light of their torches, they could hear rushing water from somewhere far off. The stairs eventually led to a long narrow tunnel, cramped and short. Carmine, being several heads taller than the rest walked its distance bent at the waist cursing and swearing with each step. Gil and Sela ducked at times, where a low pelt of brick jutted from the otherwise smoothly carved, fawn colored stone, while Tarr found the crossing easy, being rather short, even for a druid. At its far end, the tunnel opened onto a great cavern which echoed at every sound the four made. Tarr cast a large orb of very dim, very blue light into the air, which gently floated upwards, while Sela and Gil found and lit several dozen torches hanging from the walls surrounding the edge of the cavern. The orb illuminated the expanse for several long minutes rising far above, until it became a speck in the
distance, eventually colliding with the cavern's roof, bursting softly against jagged limestone columns that protruded from the ceiling. The sound of the orb’s burst was a low, deep murmur that echoed back to the watchers far below.

  The room they now stood in was hexagonal in shape, smelt of wet bread, was nearly bare, and empty, except for the flickering torches along the walls, and a large stone coffin in its center. For a long time no one spoke and no one moved. They stared at the coffin, it was plain, simple, and unmarked. It had no plaques on it, or carvings, nor were there any, anywhere in the room.

  “What is this place?” Sela asked with a tremble in her voice. Gil walked about the room, holding his torch up to each section of wall, all of which were bare and empty, though he felt they shouldn’t be.

  “What are you looking at?” Tarr asked.

  Gil shrugged, “Nothing … I guess …" he said as he walked to the coffin in the center of the strange room. The four stood, motionless, surrounding the coffin. No one spoke. On its lid, written in water, the word “AMAS” was evaporating. A moment later Gil reached out, and pushed at the coffin's lid.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What in the hell are you doing?!” Carmine yelled, as his voice echoed in the dark.

  -------

  Monith had dismissed the masters, as the council gladly scurried away from the hall to gossip and rumor on their own. Only the archmages, and Valik, still sat by the hearth, staring at the glowing fire. Outside, the storm raged, howling like a devil’s cry in the night, as trees fell and the rains pelted down.

  “You're right, it doesn’t make sense," for once Valik agreed with Cassandra. They had never seen eye to eye, yet she did have a point. Why would someone kill Tolin? Why would someone impersonate him and preside over the competition? The magi of RavensKeep had never been able to claim the shard, no one ever had, so what benefit was there in taking his place?

  “You're not helping," Cassandra snapped at Valik. “This is a waste of time. Who cares who killed Tolin or why? Did you not hear that everyone in that village is dead? And that Schencon is planning to go to war? And did it occur to you that Pillar is likely planning the same if they think the Huu-Di have the shard? And how long do you think it will be before either The Huu-Di or Pillar ask us to join their side? And if we do, we will end up fighting one of them either way, and if we don’t? We'll end up fight them both! How long do you think we’ll be safe sitting here in this castle? What we should be doing, is finding the person who has the shard, finding them and taking it from them! Image what we could do with the shard! Senchon wouldn’t dare tell us what to do ever again! With it we could rebuild the castle, we could restore its power, our power, we could …”

  “Enough” Monith snapped. “The shard belongs to whomever has claimed it. It is not ours to take from them, or to use, it is not, nor has it ever been … the will of the gods. We here, have all tried and none of us, not you or I or anyone ever before us has succeed. It is not ours to wield, its power is not meant for us, we are only guides and servants of Saa-Faa and nothing more …” Monith’s voice faded, gently. Cassandra bit her lip, holding back her thoughts, she exchanging an odd look with Aldrin, which Monith missed, though Valik didn’t.

  “Valik, please continue with your thoughts …” Monith nodded at the wizard.

  Valik smiled, ironically, “The point I am trying to make is that the competition could have gone on even without a mage presiding over it. It might have been messy, there may have been fights and arguments and a whole host of other problems, but it could have, even would have, continued without Tolin’s presence. Any given year there are always dozens of the king’s knights and several from the Order present for the competition. They could have easily overseen the tournament, even without Tolin. Having a mage of RavensKeep there has been nothing but a formality for hundreds of years. So why would someone kill Tolin and take his place?”

  “They wanted the shard for themselves of course. Who ever impersonated Tolin is the one who claimed it, they used the opportunity and took the shard …” Aldrin suggested.

  “Perhaps …” Valik mused, “but I don’t think so. If they had the power to claim the shard, they could have entered the competition, or just taken it, anytime they wanted. No … they were there because they knew someone else would claim it, they knew it and wanted to be there when they did …" Valik held up his hand sensing Aldrin’s next question. “No, I don’t think they were just waiting to kill who ever claimed it. I doubt they’d have the power anyways. Who ever claimed the shard must have been an incredibly powerful magi—” Valik cut short his thoughts, exchanging quick glances with the three archmages, awareness suddenly coming to them all.

  “Where is the boy now?” Monith commanded, looking at his sister. Cassandra nodded, closed her eyes, and reached out with her mind into the dark.

  -------

  “I said what the hell are you doing!” Carmine stepped forward, standing only a foot away from Gil, who still had his hand atop the coffin. Tarr and Sela had also edge closer.

  “I want to look inside. I think … I think this is Master Amas’s tomb …” Gil tried to smile but it only made Carmine more upset.

  “You're crazy! Why on earth would you want to look inside that?! And then what? Raise the dead? You're out of your fucking mind! We shouldn’t be here, everything about this place is wrong, the graveyard, the cave, the stairs, the secret cavern hidden underground, the water magic on the door, and now on the coffin? Why? How? Look around Link! There’s no writing or plaques or any mention of heroic deeds anywhere! Nothing at all! Does that make any sense? No one has ever heard of Master Amas, ever. Why do you think that is? Huh? This is all very very wrong, why in all the gods names do you want to do this?!”

  “They killed my friends!” Gil shouted at Carmine, his voice rattling the cavern with an endless echo. “They killed everyone I ever knew, and they are trying to kill me …”

  “What are you talking about?” Sela whispered. Gil stared at each of their faces for a very long time, thinking, before finally, he answered.

  “My name … is Gilgamesh Row.”

  -------

  “I can’t find him,” Cassandra opened her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Monith’s voice was strained.

  “I mean I can’t locate him, anywhere. He’s not in the castle, or on the grounds, or even in the village,” her voice was worried.

  “Try locating his friends, the two druids, or the baron’s son, Carmine,” Aldrin suggested. Cassandra closed her eyes again, sending her spirit racing across the castle, a shadow flying over the grounds, the town, the woods. Nothing. She opened her eyes, shaking her head.

  “Try this …” Valik handed her his oroborus badge, “they each have one.”

  Cassandra glared at Valik, then at at Monith, frowning, and took the badge. She wrapped her fingers around the iron and closed her eyes, opening them just as quickly, her gaze blank, her eyes white, staring ahead, her mouth open, whispering, “Oh gods—"

  “What?! What?! Where are they?” Monith commanded. Cassandra snapped back for a moment, and she glanced around the room.

  “They …" her voice was raspy and thin, “they are in Sama’s tomb …”

  “GO! GO NOW!” Monith screamed at Aldrin. Aldrin stood, clasp his hands together in a thunderous boom and vanished from the room running faster than anyone could see. A thin trail, faint and colorful followed him, but an echo of his presence fading from time. Valik jumped up and raced after Aldrin, following the trail of light as quick as he possible could.

  “Sister …” Monith gently tugged at Cassandra’s arm, she was darting in and out of the spirit state. She shook her head several times, finally, fully, coming to. “Go, they will need your help …" Cassandra stood slowly, then ran from the table, but suddenly stopped at the door.

  “What will you do brother?” her voice trembled.

  “What I must, should you fail …" Monith smiled faintly. The two archmages exchanged a long solemn loo
k before Cassandra ran off after the others.

  -------

  Carmine stumbled backward at Gil’s words. A strange glowing flash washed over the boy he knew as Link, whose face and eyes and hair suddenly changed but only for a moment. Sela and Tarr saw it too and they backed away frightened. Gil smiled, sadly, gently, and explained everything he hadn’t yet told them.

  “I’m so sorry, Link … I mean Gil …” Sela’s voice was soft as she spoke, touching Gil’s arm. Gil smiled at her, in a way he hadn’t before. Tarr sat atop the coffin thinking, as Carmine paced about.

  “So the old mage saved you?” Carmine asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And sent you here, to find Master Amas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Carmine stopped pacing. Gil glanced back and forth between his friends.

  “I don’t know why. He said I must, my life depended on it, and given he’s the only one who’s even tried to save it, and many people have tried to kill me since then, I’m apt to believe him.” Gil shrugged.

  “But why here, why the cave, why now?” Carmine questioned softly.

  “I don’t know why, its just … a feeling I have. Like this was all meant to happen. I don’t think it’s just chance, that I took the shard, that I came here and met the three of you, that Tarr found the cave, that Sela saw the door, that you taught me the spell to open it, that we are all here, now, after the seeing Amas written in water, twice, this was meant to happen, right?” Sela and Tarr nodded in agreement, Carmine shrugged, uncertain. He knew, more than any of them, that nothing ever happened by chance, not ever.