by Bill Mays
The painted man’s eyes widened. “You are a knight of Kandair, are you not?” He asked with surprise.
“I am and who are you, beyond a nomad of Waynan? I didn’t think your people rode this far north.” Mani was trying to appear in control. The others came from behind to join him.
“My name is unimportant. I am a rider, a messenger, from Waynan as you have guessed. We are aiding your queen in her struggle against those sadistic dark land soldiers. The spirits have come to our people and warned us of the dangers the dark lands bring with them.”
Petre’s head immediately dipped in shame. It seemed everyone hated his homeland. If they only knew, most of Drackmoore’s populace hated this war just as much as they did. Jillian nudged him from behind and gave him a stern glare. Petre looked confused.
“No one knows you’re from Drackmoore unless you tell them, so stop giving it away, idiot!” She hissed quietly. The youth heard her and straightened his stance quickly. She was right, of course.
“Then you know of the resistance?” Mani questioned. The rider nodded. “Can you take us to them immediately? I have information of the highest importance.” Mani was ready to burst with hope. The knight was beginning to wonder if they would ever reach their goal.
“I can and will. I carry sour news of another fallen outpost. I’m sure they will be pleased to see one of their knights still lives. We must hurry. Your queen is set to lead the army into battle to free Talipax as soon as her forces are gathered. Your presence would bolster her troops greatly.”
“They will be pleased to see a knight still lives. The queen is riding into battle. This cannot be. What has happened to our kingdom?” Mani was in shock. Though he feared the response, he had to ask. “It appears that much has changed since I left the castle. I have been gone for months to Merintz. Please, can you tell me all that you know?”
- Chapter 14 -
The Orbec’s Orders
Quithine answered her summons with annoyance. She was busy arranging the Grand Event for the elite of the verinions. The annual celebration was quite involved. This was one of the speaker’s duties, which she quite enjoyed. Now she was being interrupted. What did it matter that it was a young messenger with a call from the ruler of the ancient race of verinions, the Orbec. The slender youth who waited outside her doors was dipped in acknowledgement of her station before she even opened the portal. His long ears were drooped and his dragonfly-like wings were folded behind his back appropriately. It was the respect she enjoyed with her station in their society.
“What does this summons pertain to? I am in the middle of preparations for the Grand Event!” She snapped impatiently.
“Forgive my intrusions, mistress, but His Excellency, the Orbec, has not given me further instruction than to bid you join him immediately in the Spire.”
Quithine’s pointed ears twitched in agitation. She ran her slender fingers through her long, straight, flaxen hair as she contemplated the many possibilities for the call. Perhaps the Orbec had noticed what a fine job she was doing and wanted to reward her personally. She knew the messenger would have no further insight for her. They never did.
“Leave me at once. And, the next time you disturb my work, bring more information!” She scolded.
The display of anger was all for show, just in case anyone important happened to be watching from the streets. It just would not do to appear a slave to His Excellency’s every whim. She moved to gather her most beautiful traveling cloak. It was warm out, but she liked the way it made her look as it billowed out behind her wings in flight. The most important residences surrounded the Spire of the Orbec. Others might see her; she had to look her best. Another advantage to her status was her home’s location just outside the gathering steps of the Spire, so her trip was a short one. Actually, a trip anywhere in their small, isolated world of interconnected cloud cities was a short one. The verinions were not big on inconveniences. Besides, they took no interest in the workings of the polluted world below. Most had never considered it worth the time to descend among the lesser races. Thus, it was a terrible revelation for Quithine when she arrived before their leader to find that she had been selected to head a project dealing with the world below, and the lesser beings in particular.
“Your Excellency,” she strained a smile, “I am in the middle of preparations for the Grand Event. I couldn’t possibly fit this errand into my busy schedule. Perhaps one of the other council members would be better suited for this task?”
“The Grand Event is of no importance in comparison to the possibilities of disaster, which unfold below us!” The Orbec snapped. “You are not so young, Quithine. Tell me you remember the tragedies the last time the gems surfaced. Or, have you conveniently pushed that from your thoughts, too? The agents we have investigating the situation have been useless. They have no new knowledge on the developments, yet I can feel the energies of the artifacts growing in power.”
Quithine hovered before the elder in silence. Those accursed artifacts were ruining her schedule again. “I believe in the pact,” she stated calmly. “We should stay out of the petty affairs of the lesser races. As you stated yourself, the possibilities of disaster unfold below us, not among us.” Her gaze was steady and her pointed nose held high.
“There will be no debate,” the Orbec was beginning to lose his limited patience with the haughty speaker. “Choose a team and find out what you can, and Quithine, no one is to know of your or the verinion’s involvement, lest we need to select a new speaker. Is that understood?” The elder’s long ears were twitching uncontrollably.
“Yes your Excellency,” she replied in defeat. “I will learn all there is to know.”
“I look forward to our next meeting,” he smiled at her in superiority. “And do hurry back. The Grand Event wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Quithine darted from the meeting hall in a rage. How could he treat her like this over something as unimportant as the world below? How dare he threaten removing her station from her?
- Chapter 15 -
A Purpose
Tark strolled down the aisles and aisles of carefully arranged books. There were small books, large books, and everything in between. Some were bound with hard leather while others were little more than bundled scrolls laced with string. Many even displayed symbols and characters in foreign languages. It was more than a little overwhelming for the gladiator. Tark never realized that there were this many writings across the whole of Pangias. He had been taught to read and write by his mother as a child and the teaching was furthered during his etiquette training as a gladiator, but he really was not very fond of reading. Occasionally, he thumbed through one of the many tomes and then replaced it on the shelf. Actually, he was becoming quite bored. He had been wandering around this ten-story library for hours. The big man was not much of an art connoisseur either. Most of the paintings were too grandiose and the sculptures were just silly looking. That did not leave much for him to enjoy in Vool Hearth. The little folk disappeared to the hearth’s upper levels, and no word came from Herrin or the priest, Thunaren. The temple was like a graveyard for knowledge so empty and quiet were its halls. Eventually, he wandered into an area of the building on the bottom level containing all sorts of maps. There were small maps of specific areas and large maps of all of Pangias. There were even maps of the whole of EL including nine other continents and detailed markings depicting the many chains of islands around each one. He did not even realize that there were nine other continents. Four of those were new to him, especially the one marked as a roaming continent. What was a roaming continent, anyway? He doubted he could ever visit all of Pangias let alone another continent. His mind began to wander with the possibilities. Tark soon found his eyes searching through the various maps, noting where he would like to visit some day.
“Maybe the priest was right after all,” he mumbled as he unfolded a large chart of Villinsk. “There just might be something for everyone here.”
* * * * * * *
* * *
“Wow! That makes seventeen different types of fairy cities I’ve read about! Mr. Ado, look at this one! I’ve never seen anything like it. It is all about moon fairies! It even has a fairy ceremony for the arrival of the new moon! Isn’t it beautiful?”
Nivit landed on the reading table where Ado was working. The gremlin lay on his belly with a small book opened before him. The book was about perfect for his stature, probably little more than a traveling spell book to most humanoid wizards. He was engrossed in his reading. The fairy had a large tome of artworks on the fey creatures in tow with her levitation magic. The gremlin sighed loudly as he took the time to glance her way. He folded the page he was reading over in an effort to conceal the writings from the girl. By chance, Ado located a hidden spell book on one of the upper shelves. There was a name on the top of the page in the small book. Ado meant to hide it from Nivit. It read, “Falisenia Sundapple.” The gremlin knew with a name like that, the small spell book most likely belonged to a silly elf, gnome, or some other such creature; and he definitely did not want the tiny girl to know he was studying those sorts of spells.
“It’s too colorful and there are way too many flowers,” he criticized the picture that Nivit displayed happily. “I thought I told you to stop bothering me. I am trying to study some very delicate magic here!” Ado snapped.
“I’m sorry,” Nivit whispered as her bottom lip began to tremble slightly. “I forgot. I guess I was just so excited about finding the pictures that I got carried away.”
“Well next time get carried in a different direction. I’m busy,” the tremlin mage dismissed her without another glance. “Ahhh! This looks like a useful one!” The little man giggled with glee as a certain entry caught his eye.
After a few moments of silence, Ado dared to glance up from his book. Nivit stood on the table just to the side of him. The girl was trying to read over his shoulder.
“What is it now?” He squeaked as he snapped the book shut. “This is my spell book. I found it and it wasn’t easy. Go find your own magic book!” He giggled to himself at the statement. This was the only one on the last four floors that radiated any kind of magic at all.
“I was just thinking that maybe I could learn a spell or two. Do you think you could teach me? I have my own magic, but it’s just the same stuff all sun fairies have. I thought maybe you could teach me to make that giant scary snake.” Her big eyes and her heart shaped head were practically in his face now.
Why did she have to get so close when she talked anyway? “You don’t have a prayer of learning that spell,” he giggled at her expense, “but perhaps I could teach you a much simpler one, if you don’t prove to be too dense that is.”
“Oh please, Mr. Ado, pretty please!” Nivit began bouncing up and down in excitement.
“If I do then you will leave me alone to study?” The gremlin stood and glared at the girl.
“Oh yes, I promise!” She cheered sweetly, batting her long eyelashes at him.
“Alright, but pay attention and don’t make me repeat myself!” He griped. “I have time-consuming work to do and you are detracting from that precious time every second you bother me. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Ado,” the fairy grinned.
“Let’s get this over with. It’s a simple spell. Just repeat after me and do exactly as I do. That means do not add any wing twitching or silly fairy giggles, understood?” The tiny girl nodded emphatically. “And you’ll have to focus on drawing in and controlling the magic!” She nodded again eagerly.
Ado sighed inwardly. How his old master, Edle, would be laughing at him now. Not only was he teaching magic, which was a big stretch, but he was teaching it to a sun fairy.
* * * * * * * * * *
Herrin pulled her nose from the dusty scroll long enough to compare it to the parchment of runes Tark had found wrapped around the blue gem. “These look remarkably similar,” she stated aloud in order to get Thunaren’s attention.
The priest tore himself away from a tome describing the Great War of Ascendancy that took place just over a thousand years past. He had found several entries of “the gems of power” in his readings. The man moved to inspect Herrin’s findings. The sage held Tark’s parchment up to the newfound writings.
“They are almost a perfect match,” Thunaren agreed.
“What can you tell me of this scroll?” Herrin grew excited. Her hands practically trembled.
“Let me see. I know that it is a piece that came to be housed here when the inner sanctum was first constructed over three hundred years ago. The writing is said to be in the language of the ancients, though that was never confirmed, and it is some form of warning. Evidently, it was a work that was argued over quite heatedly back in the day. The actual translation is beyond me, I’m afraid.”
“A warning from the ancients, that doesn’t sound like a good omen.” The old woman became annoyed with her own failings. “If only I could translate this then perhaps we could discern some path to follow. I’m pretty good with languages. I’ll try to work out the basics of the message but it will take time,” she sighed slowly. “Have you had any luck?”
The priest retrieved his book and pointed out the passages mentioning the gems. “Do you suppose that the artifact your friend carries is one of them?”
“I’m not sure. What else does it say? That was the war that originally destroyed the kingdom of Maisak Duvree the first true king on Pangias. I studied the ramifications of that war on the civilizations of the time, which grew to become both Merintz and Kandair. I believe that King Airos Allustare is a distant descendant of the old king. It was really quite interesting. According to my findings the king’s old capital city should have stood somewhere at the heart of what is now Kandair, though no sign of those particular ruins were ever discovered in the area.”
“You said the artifact originally came from Kandair. Perhaps it is a relic from the Great War. I too have read about King Maisak Duvree. Some speculations say that the Great War of Ascendancy was begun because his rule was unjust and coming to an end already. The king was described on several occasions to wear a crown of gems that radiated like the stars at night. A crown possessed of great power. Think of what it could mean if it were one of those very stones resurfaced. Who knows what magic the wizards of lore placed in those gems? That would explain Meiron’s search and King Allustare’s vigilance in its protection.” Thunaren stopped to ponder the ramifications. “Now that I think upon it, our own troubles stemmed from that time, even though Villinsk was not yet formed. The reivers were brought to this world during the Great War. They were pulled here by some incredible magic, or so the legends say. It took almost seven hundred years for a mage to surface who was powerful enough to lock them away.”
“I thought you said it was a combination of wizards who sealed the reivers?” Herrin was a little confused.
“That is true, I did say that, but there was one who led them, a sorcerer I believe. Without this man, it is doubtful the attempt would have been successful. He was said to be a strange and reclusive magician. His title was ‘The Gem Mage,’ I believe. He even erected a temple to himself in this general region. He was considered a hero for a time. Some stories tell of him being self-centered and egotistical while others mention a mage who studied magic for the good of the realms. There is much controversy over his true designs of power, but all mention of him faded soon after that.”
“The Gem Mage, huh?” Herrin raised her eyebrows at the high priest. “That is quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”
Thunaren’s mind was racing with new ideas. He paced back and forth, as he sorted through them. “You say the warrior was told that he is the chosen one. He came to you and in turn to me by chance, even though I was forewarned of your arrival. The reivers have been released onto the world again, a terrible fate for any in their path. Could it be that he was sent here to stop them? Maybe that gem holds the power to seal them away again. Yes, it must be!”
�
��That still doesn’t explain Kandair’s involvement. If this is all about the reivers then why is the war raging between Kandair and Drackmoore and how does the Dark Lord fit into the puzzle?” Herrin was not so sure about Thunaren’s speculations.
“What else could it be then?” The high priest snapped. The man seemed desperate for a solution to his current problems. “We were waiting for an answer to arise and now it has. The gem of power has returned to us in our time of need. For all we know, the reivers may pose a threat to Kandair as well. They may even work in league with the Dark Lord. We already suspect he had a hand in their release.” The man sounded overly ecstatic. “We must get that boy to the capital at once! He may hold the power to stop the senseless battles that rage on Villinsk’s sacred soil. Praise be to Nickadameous for giving us the knowledge, for knowledge is power! The king will be most pleased to hear that Vool Hearth has discovered our salvation.” Thunaren gathered together a pile of the tomes that mentioned the gems of power.
Herrin was not convinced. “The tome mentions gems, plural; and these ancient warnings, they vary slightly. Perhaps this is not the gem of the mage of legend. What if this is the wrong stone? I think we need to further our research before we jump to any conclusions.”
“There is no time for that. Villinsk suffers every minute we waste. You said yourself that the reivers draw near to us. I am sure of our findings, praise be to Nickadameous. Any day the reivers or their fanatical worshippers could come to tear the hearth down around our ears. We must act immediately!”
“But what if …?” Herrin began. She was quickly silenced by the crazed look the priest cast her way.
Thunaren headed to the stairs leading back to the main library. There was a glazed grin of ecstasy on his bearded face. “We will gather your companions and share our findings. The journey to the capital can begin at daybreak.” The prim man whispered another prayer to his god and then chuckled under his breath.
