Snowfall

by Brandon Cornwell

  “I trust you slept well,” he said, taking his seat and serving himself a plate of the food she had brought.

  “I did. Your bed is much more comfortable than my own.”

  “I should hope so,” he said, chuckling slightly. “I had to perform a favor for a dwarven leather worker and a Master of Order to have it made.”

  “Is that where the table in the dining room came from as well? A favor for another Master?”

  Giriraj nodded. “Yes. Most of our kind don't have armies of masons to build their strongholds. For me, building with stone is the work of an instant.” He gestured to the door behind her. “For example, the bath chamber was a joint project between myself and Ceara's predecessor. I formed it, and he filled it, working out the mechanism through which it runs and is cleaned.”

  Amethyst sat back, holding a thick slice of bread. “And I assume that you created the building in which he lived in return?”

  “That is correct. He wanted a lighthouse on the coast of the western Northlands. The stone there was weak, so it took some time, but it was well within my abilities. No ocean storm will ever lay waste to it, not with my magic flowing through the stone.”

  Amethyst looked around the room. “Did you shape this place?”

  Giriraj nodded again. “I did. I have several such strongholds throughout Erde.” He looked at her, resting back in his chair. “One of them is underneath the Castle Lonwick.”

  Surprised, Amethyst raised an eyebrow. “Really? I was unaware of any such place in our foundations.”

  “The catacombs that run under the castle have been used for many purposes throughout the years. As a cellar, as a place to put prisoners of war, but I assure you they are there.”

  Amethyst furrowed her brow. “I know of our cellars, but I never ventured very far into them. I never had a need to.”

  Giriraj took a bite of his breakfast, washing it down with a drink from a goblet of water. “Few know the true extent of the passages. I sealed them off the last time I was there, shortly before the castle was built.” He looked up at the ceiling, somewhat wistful. “That was more than a thousand years ago, I think.”

  Her eyes went wide. “A thousand years? Even we elves seldom live that long! How old are you?”

  His eyes moved to hers. “Old,” he said simply. “I chose that place because it is a nexus, like this mountain is. Our element is stronger there. It could have something to do with why you have the abilities that you do.”

  Amethyst's head swam. Over a thousand years old? As far as she could tell, Giriraj was a human, and they seldom lived to see a hundred years, and none much older. She knew that the Masters had ways of extending their lives, from little hints that she had picked up by listening to Giriraj, Rasul, and Ceara, but a millennium? “How have you lived so long?”

  “We have our ways,” he said. “Perhaps someday I will teach them to you. As an elf, you already have some amount of longevity inherent in your kind. To couple that with our methods, well... you would be practically immortal. That is not something to be taken lightly.”

  He set his goblet down. “In any case, we have a journey to make. I have been summoned to the Citadel, and you will accompany me. Farrokh has called a meeting of the Masters. It seems that there is a threat to Erde that may require our intervention.”

  “Farrokh?” asked Amethyst. She had never heard that name before.

  “He is the Master of Order and the facilitator of our meetings. He lives in the Citadel, acting as its caretaker, instead of keeping a domain of his own.”

  “I see,” she said, taking a bite of her food. While she was excited by the prospect of finally getting out of the mountain, the thought of being surrounded by other Masters and apprentices was more than a little daunting. She shuddered at the thought of being face to face with Adrik, though Ceara seemed safe enough.

  “When you are finished,” Giriraj said, setting his bread and meat down, “I want you to pack your belongings, anything you may need, for a journey lasting at least a week. Bring a few changes of clothing, as the robes that they provide at the Citadel are gray, and I do not want you to be mistaken for one of the servants that reside there. By wearing the garments you have been provided here, you will be known to be under my command, and my protection.”

  She nodded. “Yes, Master Giriraj. When would you like me to be ready?”

  “As soon as you can. I would like to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

  She set down her bread. “Then I will prepare immediately.”

  Amethyst pushed her chair back and went to her room, emptying out the pack that she had carried up the mountain with her. She paused when she saw the book she had brought, and held it in her hands. It was about the history of the Burning Sands and told of how it used to be a thriving, lush, green paradise kingdom, bigger than Lonwick and the Northlands combined. She had brought it with every intention of reading it in her spare time, but Giriraj had kept her busy with menial tasks, and she had almost forgotten that she had brought it. She stuck it back in the leather pack, putting in several changes of clothes on top of it.

  She also dusted off her wolfskin cloak. She hadn't needed it since the ceremony at the peak, but she had cleaned it nonetheless. She hoped the Citadel was somewhere warm. Maybe the Greenreef Isles, or the lands south of the Great Rift, where beautiful jungles full of colorful songbirds and magnificent, exotic flowers could be found. Anything would be a welcome change to this drab, gray rock. She had all but memorized the grain of the stone in the ceiling of her room.

  She was on her way back to Giriraj's study when he met her in the training room.

  “Do you have everything?” he asked, and she nodded.

  “Very good. Follow me.”

  He led her to the library and stopped her at the door. Walking to the middle of the room, he turned back to face her.

  “I am going to prepare the spell to transport us to the Citadel. If it were just me, I could transport us without such grandiose gestures. However, this is an excellent teaching opportunity.” He held his hands out. Immediately, a diagram of light sprang to life on the floor. It appeared as a large circle inset with an octagram, glowing with a steady amber light. He went to one of the cabinets in the room and removed a brass firepot filled with a fine powder, and set it in the center.

  “This is one of the simplest pieces of ritual magic you will learn. With time and practice, you will be able to develop ways to perform it without using herbs or minerals, but for now, I will teach you the easier way.”

  He reached into the firepot and lifted a handful of powder, letting it fall back into the brass dish. “This powder here is a combination of several dusts – ground quartz, magnesium, and a few herbs. They each have an elemental alignment, just like we do, and together, they create a balance of the four primary elements. This lends their energy to the spell, letting us manipulate all four at once. This is necessary if you are going to travel a great distance, since you may travel through regions where each of these elements are present, and you need to be able to pass through them without harming yourself.”

  He dusted off his hands and stood. “If they are too out of balance, or if you neglect one, then you could conceivably collide with an object aligned with that element, and the results would be greatly inconvenient at best, and disastrous at worst. For you and I, we generally don't need to worry about interference for the element of Earth, but Fire, Water, and Air could all become problematic.”

  Amethyst was fascinated but confused. “How would Air become problematic?” she asked. “Do we not move through it all the time?”

  Giriraj nodded. “We do, but if we have to travel through a hurricane, or if there is a tornado in the way, then the winds could buffet us out of our protective circles, and the full force of whatever was in our path would strike us with unimaginable force.” He shook his head. “The result would be a very swift end and a very large mess.”

  Amethyst shuddered. “I understand.”


  Giriraj pointed around the circle. “It really doesn't matter what you choose to represent the elements, so long as it has a strong enough affinity to them. Magnesium, though it is strongly tied to our element, also has a connection to Fire. I used some aquatic herbs to represent Water, and powdered quartz to represent our element. The smoke that will rise from the mixture as it burns will represent Air, though there are other things one could use, such as a feather or the seeds of a dandelion, a butterfly's wing, really anything that is meant to harness the wind.”

  He shrugged. “I could also have used a bowl of water, a candle, a large crystal, and some incense, though their energies would be less blended, making for more work for myself. A bit of work in preparing the materials goes a long way in simplifying the magical side of it all.”

  Amethyst stepped forward, examining the diagram. At the tip of each point of the star, there was, once again, the symbol for each element. The symbols progressed around the circle in the same pattern that she had seen on the pendant that Rasul had shown her in his ritual chamber.

  “Can you sense the four elements in the firepot and see that they are balanced?”

  She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind; though the element of Earth sprang up immediately in her vision, she sensed nothing else.

  “No, Master,” she said. “All I see is the energy of Earth.”

  Giriraj furrowed his brow. “We shall have to work on that. The ability to see and feel the other elements is paramount to working rituals. Otherwise, you may get the balance off, and the results could be less effective or completely against your goal. But, that is a task for another time.”

  He stretched out his hand, and two circles sprang to light, about a yard across and overlaying the already glowing diagram on opposing sides.

  “You will stand there,” he said, indicating one of the circles, “and I will stand here. Take your place in the center, but be absolutely certain that you do not reach a hand or foot out of its bounds, nor let your cloak or pack go outside of its protection. If you do, you may lose the limb or be dragged out yourself, in which case you will be lost.”

  Amethyst nodded and took her place, the exhilaration she felt gaining a tinge of fear. Traveling by magical means seemed like a dangerous way to go, though if her first trip with Giriraj to the volcanic field was any indication, it was definitely the fastest.

  He crouched in front of the firepot, producing a piece of flint and steel. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking up at her.

  She nodded again. “I am.”

  He struck a large spark into the mixture of herbs and stone, and it immediately flashed white, burning with intense heat. Smoke filled the chamber, and she averted her eyes, covering her mouth and nose. Giriraj stepped into his circle and closed his eyes. In a flash, the world was consumed by rushing wind, pulsing lights, and utter chaos.

  Chapter Twelve

  5th Waxing Sap Moon, Year 4368

  With nothing to hold on to, Amethyst struggled to maintain her footing. Through the whirling, roaring maelstrom, she could barely see Giriraj, standing as firm as if he were a stone statue rooted to the ground. She braced herself, squaring her shoulders and widening her stance as much as she dared, hunching slightly against the powerful forces that buffeted her.

  Just as she felt she might topple over, the storm that surrounded her stopped. Amethyst fell forward, landing face first into a pile of soft snow. Spluttering from the shock of cold, she pushed herself to her feet, dusting herself off and looking around, her eyes watering from the experience.

  “Welcome to the Far North,” said Giriraj, standing not far from her, seemingly unbothered by the cold, despite wearing only his trousers, belt, and high boots. “Pull your cloak tight. We have a short hike ahead of us.”

  She wiped the water from her eyes, looking in the direction Giriraj pointed. The shadow of a massive structure loomed in the foggy distance. They stood on a wide place on a ridge, surrounded by an evergreen forest, the branches of the trees caked thick with snow. Their limbs dipped low, bending under the weight of their frosty burden, making them look for all the world like tall, peaked piles of cream.

  Amethyst scowled. This was not a tropical island.

  The trail along the ridge was completely buried in snow, but seemed otherwise clear of brush or stone. Giriraj led the way, breaking a path for her. It took much longer than she expected before they finally reached a wide bridge made of thick timbers, stretching from the edge of the ridge to the impossibly huge tower that loomed before them. Small drifts of snow piled up in the stiff breeze that came from the south, blowing off into the void to the north. She glanced over the side of the platform, gripping the railing, to see a sheer dropoff that disappeared into nothingness beneath them. She moved away from the edge, sticking close to Giriraj as they crossed the bridge. They reached an alcove in which two enormous stone doors were set, intricately carved with scenes of forests, mountains, seas, and plains.

  Giriraj produced the pendant that he had shown her before, holding it aloft. “The Master of Earth demands entry to the Citadel!” he shouted, his powerful voice booming over the frozen landscape.

  The doors dissolved in front of her, simply fading out of existence. Inside was a brightly lit chamber with multiple hearths along the walls, fully furnished if a little cluttered. The floor was covered in thick, plush rugs around several ornately carved tables, each sporting a pile of books, carafes, tankards, and platters of food.

  As soon as they passed under the high stone archway, she was bathed in warmth, the heat from the room soaking into her like a warm bath. Even though the doors remained open to the outside, the frigid cold did not penetrate into the building; the books and scrolls that covered the tables were undisturbed despite the wind that whistled around the outside of the Citadel. Giriraj gestured to the opening, and the doors faded back into place, leaving them alone inside the room.

  Or so she thought. A young woman in an orange robe – identical in design to her own and Eamon's – had been so still that Amethyst hadn't noticed her. She was tall, much taller than any elf Amethyst had ever seen, as tall as many of the Northmen – perhaps six feet, if not slightly more. She was slender, with a complexion similar to Tika's. Her brown hair was just a shade lighter than black, and her brilliant green eyes were bright and intelligent, glancing between her and Giriraj as they stood in the entryway.

  The young woman bowed to them. “Welcome back, Master Giriraj.”

  “Thank you, Nasrin,” he said, gesturing for Amethyst to stand next to him. “You may tell Farrokh that we have arrived.”

  Nasrin smiled. “Yes, of course. I am certain he will wish to speak with you very soon, but he has instructed me to inform you he can wait until after you are settled in your quarters. Do you require anything?”

  “Not now. How long until the evening meal is served?”

  “Three hours. We have a lovely corned beef roast with potatoes and sweet rolls.”

  Giriraj nodded. “Excellent. If you would, meet us at the entrance to my quarters. I wish for you to give my apprentice a tour of the Citadel. She needs to know her way around.”

  Nasrin bowed again. “Of course, Master Giriraj. I will inform Master Farrokh of your arrival, and return to you immediately thereafter, with my master's leave.”

  As Nasrin left the room, Giriraj beckoned to Amethyst again. “Come along.”

  He led her through the halls, which curved around the outside of the structure. They were formed from a very dense sandstone, pale tan with a slight yellowish hue. Along the walls were wooden doors, banded with brass and bearing simple wooden latches. The hallway was domed, but did not sport any arches; if she didn't know better, she might have almost thought the walls and ceiling were made of a tinted mortar.

  Back and forth they moved through the building, descending several flights of stairs, until they came to a long hallway that led towards the center of the structure. As they walked, the lighter sandstone transitioned into a darker,
harder gray, deeper in color than the stone at Mount Stromgard. At the end of the hall stood an enormous oak door, eight feet tall and four feet wide. Thick straps of iron with spiked rivets crossed the wide wooden planks, and there was no visible latch. Giriraj set his hand against the barrier. There was a dim flash of amber, and the door swung inwards.

  The chamber it revealed was much like the others that Giriraj had shaped, with a high domed roof crossed by arches, except instead of being round or square, it was octagonal. Desks, bookshelves, couches, and workbenches lined every wall, with three other doors, each of which was shut.

  As Amethyst entered behind him, he left the door ajar.

  “That is the entrance to my chamber,” he said, pointing to a door on the left wall. “I will sleep and take my meals there if we are not dining with the rest of the Masters. The door directly across from it is your room. You will find that it is significantly better furnished than your quarters at Stromgard, and more comfortable as well. The door between them leads to the bath. If you choose not to bathe in the communal bathhouse, then you can wash there, or if you need to clean up after a ritual, you can do so in private.”

  He walked to the door of his chamber and pushed it open. “I am going to spend some time in my chambers where I am not to be disturbed. Leave your things in your room and await Nasrin's return.”

  Amethyst nodded. “Yes, Master Giriraj,” she said, dropping her pack off her shoulders and walking to her room. Inside, it was twice as large on each wall as her room at Mount Stromgard, which was nice; it felt a bit less like a dungeon cell. The ceiling was domed, like the rest of the Citadel, though it lacked any of the characteristic arches. Against one wall sat a bed, about the same size as the one she had been using, but instead of straw, it had a mattress similar to the one that Giriraj used. She dropped her pack at the foot of the bed and sat down on it. It had the same supportive firmness as Giriraj's bed, and she was very tempted to lay down on it, though she knew she had to wait for Nasrin.