Vosper's Revenge

by Kristian Alva

  There was another spellcaster in the room-a gray-haired female who was practicing spells in the corner. She frowned as they walked in.

  “Hello, Parnaiba,” said Qildor, as he motioned for her to join them. They all sat down on a sprawling leather sofa in the center of the room.

  “Vosper wants me to find another solution for his weakened state,” said Qildor “He doesn't want to reinforce the longevity charms anymore.”

  “Well, there's not much we can do,” said Islar. “He's old. Really old. And he's not an elf, so his time is almost done.”

  “That's helpful,” said Qildor sarcastically. “Are you going to tell him the bad news? Just look at my face. I need help with this, or next time he's going to kill me!”

  “He's probably going to kill you then. There is no solution. We all know that Vosper isn't very good at accepting bad news,” said Parnaiba.

  “Parnaiba, do you have anything useful to say, or just your usual sarcasm?” said Qildor.

  “Don't play stupid,” said Parnaiba. “Both of you know the answer. We all do. It's just a question of when Vosper will finally admit it. He's dying.”

  “She's right,” said Islar. “Vosper's time is almost done. His longevity charms are failing at an alarming rate. He must choose between death and necromancy. There are no other options.”

  “How much time do you think he has left?” said Qildor.

  “A few cycles. Perhaps less,” said Parnaiba.

  “He's coughing blood,” said Qildor “I saw it this afternoon. He has no appetite, and he rarely sleeps anymore.”

  “That's good, in a way,” said Parnaiba. “If Vosper decides to cross over, then he won't sleep or eat ever again. He needs to prepare himself for the side effects. It must give him pause, even one as power-hungry as him. It's a ghastly solution.”

  “I think he's already decided,” said Qildor.

  “Oh? What makes you so sure?” asked Parnaiba.

  “Vosper asked if I was willing to die for him,” said Qildor. “He's never asked me anything like that before. It was a direct question.”

  Islar's face fell. “So it's true then. The emperor plans to become a necromancer.”

  “Yes. He's decided to cross over. And when he does, he must choose three spellcasters to sacrifice. He'll choose the strongest mageborns in the kingdom. I'm going to be one of them,” said Qildor. “Of this, I'm certain.”

  “It's going to be the three of us,” said Parnaiba. “The other palace spellcasters are marginal, at best. No one else even comes close to our combined powers.”

  Islar's face turned white as the reality dawned on him. “What? Vosper plans to sacrifice our lives?” said Islar. The young spellcaster had just celebrated his eighteenth cycle. “But I'm not ready to die! Can Vosper force me to do it, even if I don't want to?”

  “No… he can't force you,” said Qildor. “The mages who are sacrificed for the Necromancer's Oath must be willing.”

  Islar exhaled. “Thank goodness! That's a relief.”

  Parnaiba sighed and shook her head. “Islar, don't be an idiot. Think about it. To refuse the oath will mean death. Vosper considers self-sacrifice to be a great honor. Either way, you're going to die.”

  “What about you, Parnaiba?” asked Qildor. “What will you do?”

  Parnaiba sighed. “I have reflected on this possibility for many years. I have been a spellcaster at Morholt for a long time, and before that, I was a Master at Aonach Tower. I always suspected that Vosper would take the Necromancer's Oath. I knew that if I lived to see that day, I would be chosen as one of the sacrificed. If this is to be my fate, I accept it. I will not disobey my emperor's wishes.”

  “How can you be so calm?” asked Islar. “Aren't you the least bit afraid?”

  “I am afraid of many things, but not of death. I'm tired. I am an old woman. I lived through the destruction of Aonach Tower, and the loss of my entire family. There is no one left. I cannot remember… the last time I was truly happy. I have seen eighty winters, and I am ready to leave this world.”

  “And you, Qildor?” asked Islar. “You have a young daughter and a wife. What will you do?”

  Qildor hesitated. Then he hung his head. “I have no choice,” he whispered. “Vosper will kill me if I refuse, and probably my wife and child, too. I must do it.”

  Parnaiba turned to Islar. Her face, hardened by years of loneliness and strife, softened for a moment. She placed her wrinkled hand on the young man's shoulder.

  “Islar… Qildor and I must do this. Our fate is sealed. But you are a young man… the age my grandson would have been had he survived. Your life has only just begun. You are young. You can escape this fate.”

  “She's right,” said Qildor, nodding in agreement. “If you want to live, you'd better find a way out of Morholt-and fast.”

  Stonewalled

  Sela sat down, exhausted from repeated telepathic communications with Tallin. He had contacted her three times today already, each time with more urgent news. Sela was unable to maintain the contact for more than a few seconds, so Tallin waited hours between each contact so she could gather her strength.

  “How do you feel, Mother?” said Rali, who was sitting nearby. As a second-degree mage, Rali's limited magical abilities allowed him to listen in to the communications between Tallin and Sela, but he was unable to respond or add to the conversation.

  “Still tired, but better. Tallin will contact me again before nightfall, so I must preserve my strength.” A few minutes later, Sela felt a familiar itch on the back of her neck. Tallin was trying to contact her again. It was too soon, and she felt dizzy when she tried to stand.

  “Brinsop! Lend me your strength,” said Sela. Of course, my friend, said Brinsop, reaching out with her dragon mind, joining the spell. Rali stood up as well, offering Sela his support. She opened her mind to Tallin's contact, and her dragon stone began to glow.

  “Sela!” said Tallin, his voice echoing from far away. “Three elves have arrived at Parthos. Carnesîr is leading them. They've offered to take over administration of the city while you and Rali are away.”

  “That's absurd,” said Sela. “We can't leave Parthos in the hands of outlanders.”

  “What is your answer?” asked Tallin.

  “Let The Nine take over stewardship of the city. Only Aor is here, so the remaining eight guardsmen can manage Parthos in his absence. Notify Annarr, the second-in-command, and he shall take over. The Nine are trained well enough to do it. Their tattoos will provide enough protection against the elves' charms.”

  “Shall I come to Mount Velik then?” asked Tallin.

  “Yes. We really need you here. The clans are bullying us, and you would be invaluable during the negotiations. Rali must stay at Mount Velik until treaty negotiations are complete.” Sela started to tremble with the strain.

  “Understood,” said Tallin. “I shall leave for Mount Velik immediately. What about the elves?”

  “The elves may act as sentinels. They're permitted to guard the city walls, but that's all. If they don't like it, they're welcome to leave.”

  “And Elias? Carnesîr revealed Chua's existence to the boy,” said Tallin.

  “That's unfortunate, but it was bound to happen sooner or later,” whispered Sela. She struggled to maintain consciousness. “It's time… for Elias to go to the Elder Willow… and meet his father. Prepare Elias… and Nydeired for the journey. Then come to Mount Velik.” Her voice trailed off, and Sela collapsed.

  “Mother!” said Rali, catching his mother's limp body before she hit the floor. She had maintained the telepathic contact too long. It drained her past her limit.

  “Are you still there?” asked Tallin, his voice reverberating in Rali's mind. Sela was gone, but Tallin still felt the mental link with the young king. “Rali, I know you can't respond, but I want you to listen. Don't worry about your mother-Sela will regain consciousness soon. Lay her down on the floor and watch her carefully until she awakens. She'll be exhausted, bu
t fine. I'll see you in a few days. Until then, await a bird messenger with full details.”

  “I will,” said Rali out loud, not knowing if Tallin could hear him or not. Then he felt Tallin's consciousness disengage and slip away.

  Rali laid his mother's limp body on the floor. Brinsop crawled over and nuzzled Sela's neck with her snout. Brinsop didn't seem overly distressed; perhaps she had seen this all before. Rali wished again that he could understand dragon tongue, so he could ask Brinsop what to do.

  “Sela? Mother?” asked Rali, patting her face gently.

  There was no response at first, but a few minutes later, Sela groaned. Her eyes fluttered open. “Rali? What happened?”

  “You fainted, Mother. Tallin told me to watch you until you regained consciousness. Do you remember the conversation?”

  Sela closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes… I remember. By Baghra, that last contact finished me. I won't be able to cast any spells for a good while.” The multiple telepathy spells would leave her drained for days. She inhaled deeply, touching Brinsop's nose.

  Take my strength, old friend, said Brinsop, reaching out to lift up her exhausted rider. Sela drew on Brinsop's formidable power, using the dragon stone as a focal point. Both of their stones glowed, and Sela felt energy trickling back into her limbs. She was able to stand unassisted a few minutes later. She walked over to her bedchamber and reclined on some cushions. Brinsop knew that the worst was over, so she went back to sleep near the fireplace.

  “Mother, Tallin spoke to me after you fainted.”

  “Really?” asked Sela, somewhat surprised.

  “Yes. I could still hear his voice. It sounded weaker, like a whisper in the distance. I don't know if he heard me, but I could definitely hear him.”

  Sela smiled, pleased at her son's abilities. “That's impressive, since I was the one maintaining the original spell. That means your telepathic abilities are stronger than we originally thought. Telepathic contact is extremely difficult for humans, but easier for elves and dwarves. Maybe your father had a touch of elvish or dwarvish blood.”

  “Maybe,” said Rali, shrugging. He tried not to think too much about his late father-the memories were still too painful. “Tallin said he would be here in a few days.”

  “Excellent,” said Sela. “We desperately need his help during these negotiations. Without him, the dwarf clans will continue to toy with us.”

  “We're at an impasse here, but what about the elves? Just having them in Parthos makes me uneasy.”

  “The presence of elves in the desert is definitely a mixed blessing. Their arrival complicates things. Tallin dislikes them intensely, so I can't imagine how he's dealing with them in Parthos. Maybe I should return to Parthos to act as its steward. You can't leave-the treaty talks won't continue unless you're present.”

  “Are you sure you'll be able to handle the elves on your own?” asked Rali.

  Sela smiled. “I may not be the most powerful spellcaster in the kingdom, but I can certainly handle a few immortals. The elves neither frighten nor intimidate me.”

  Rali nodded. He marveled at her self-confidence-his mother was a remarkable woman. “Hopefully, once Tallin gets here, he'll be able to convince Bolrakei to abandon her request for a dragon stone. There's no way I would ever agree to such a ridiculous demand. Perhaps she'll agree to some other concession.”

  Thorin had told Sela and Rali of Bolrakei's desire to own a dragon stone days ago. Sela was so furious that she hadn't spoken to any of the clan leaders since. Rali and Thorin attended the talks together, but neither of them spoke directly to Bolrakei.

  “I avoided telling Tallin about the blackmail,” said Sela. “It would have infuriated him. Once he arrives, we'll tell him all about her 'request.' The news will send Tallin into a fit of righteous fury.”

  Aor stepped into the doorway. “Sire, the dwarf Thorin has arrived. Shall I allow him entry?”

  “Yes, Aor,” said Rali. “Let him in.”

  Thorin strode in and bowed. “Good day, your highness an' Mistress Sela.”

  “Where have you been all day, Thorin? Counting sheep?” asked Rali, jokingly.

  “Nay, nay,” said Thorin, tugging at his beard. “Sire, I have some important news, if you please,”

  “Go ahead,” said Rali.

  “First, I apologize for eavesdroppin', but ye know that we dwarves have good hearin'. As I was waitin' outside, I overheard ye discussin' Bolrakei Shalevault and the matter of the dragon stone.”

  “And? What is your opinion on this problem?” asked Rali.

  Thorin cleared his throat. “I know it's rather a delicate subject for y'all. But I've known Bolrakei Shalevault for over a century. She's as stubborn and greedy as they come. Once she gets an idea in her head, she's unwillin' to bend. I'm fairly sure she won't change her mind about this.”

  “Well, what do you suggest we do?” asked Rali. “We can't very well give her Chua's dragon stone.”

  “Nay, I'm not suggestin' that,” said Thorin. “But there's another livin' dragon stone in the kingdom, one that is even now separated from its rider.”

  “You mean, Hanko's dragon stone? Hanko, the traitor?” said Sela.

  “Aye, that one,” said Thorin.

  “I don't like the direction that this conversation is going,” said Rali.

  Thorin continued. “Instead of givin' her Chua's stone, why not offer Hanko's stone to her instead? That would solve the problem. I'm no expert in these matters, but wouldn't it be an appropriate punishment for a traitor? Ye'd be killin' two birds with one stone, no pun intended.”

  “No, I don't like it,” said Sela. “Hanko is still awaiting trial in Miklagard. He may be a traitor, but it would still be unseemly to give his stone to someone who is, in effect, blackmailing us.”

  “It's moot anyway, Thorin,” said Rali. “We don't even know where Hanko's stone is.”

  “Well, ye see… that's my news. I do know where it is. Hanko's stone is in Morholt,” said Thorin. “Vosper has it, and I know how we can get it back.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Rali.

  “I'm absolutely sure,” said Thorin. “Of this and some other things.”

  “How did you obtain this information?” asked Sela.

  “Well,” Thorin fidgeted, looking up at the ceiling. He seemed to be weighing whether or not to share his sources. “Just between us, my informant is my cousin, Floki. We grew up together in Mount Velik, but he left our clan when he reached beardhood. Floki's been workin' in Morholt for months. He sent me an encoded message. I just received it today.”

  “The capital city isn't safe for dwarves. Why did your cousin choose Morholt of all places?” asked Sela.

  “It wasn't really a choice. Floki used to live in Jutland with his family. It was my fault that he left Jutland. I sought his help last year when I was travelin' with Elias. We were all forced to flee the city together. It was sheer luck we escaped alive.”

  “How did your cousin end up in the capital?” said Sela.

  “Floki's not a pure-blood. He's a half-ling. He passes easily for human, and prefers to live among ye. When Floki left Jutland, he traveled across Durn with his family. But work was scarce. Floki got desperate and sought work in Morholt. He secured a position working in the palace stables. Everythin' was fine until Floki was approached by one of Vosper's spellcasters. The mage discovered that Floki was a half-ling and passin' as human. The mage threatened to expose him, if Floki didn't help him escape the capital.”

  “What does he want?” asked Rali.

  “He's one of Vosper's Master spellcasters, and he wants to defect to our side-he wants to come to Mount Velik. Floki also wants to leave-he knows it's just a matter of time before he's discovered, and he's afraid for his family.”

  “How can we be sure that this isn't one of Vosper's tricks?” said Sela.

  “Floki sent me a message describing everything. The scroll was written in my clan's secret language,” said Thorin. “It could not have been a
forgery.”

  “Okay, Thorin. We trust you,” said Rali, nodding. “But even with this information, how can we get Hanko's dragon stone back? Assuming Vosper has it, it's certainly under lock and key.”

  “The spellcaster knows where it is. He promised to get the stone as a gesture of goodwill,” said Thorin.

  “That's incredible. I thought Hanko's stone was gone forever. So Vosper's spellcaster has agreed to steal it back?” asked Sela.

  “Aye. I believe he might,” said Thorin. “But there'll be a price to pay.”

  “Nothing is free. What's his price?” asked Rali.

  “The mage doesn't want money,” said Thorin. “His name's Islar. He's young an' terrified. He's tryin' to escape 'cause Vosper plans to kill 'im durin' some kind of dark ritual.”

  The Necromancer's Oath! thought Sela in horror. Vosper's actually going to do it. He plans to cross over! She struggled to hide her surprise. It was soon-too soon. If Vosper took the oath now, they would never be able to defeat him. Elias was still just a boy and Nydeired barely a year old. None of the other dragon riders were a match for someone as powerful as Vosper, and much less so if the emperor decided to become a necromancer. “Are you all right, Mother?” Rali asked, touching her shoulder.

  “Yes, I'm fine. Just tired from earlier,” she said. She decided to keep her suspicions to herself, at least for now. “Thorin, please continue.”

  “The boy wants safe passage. In exchange, he'll cooperate with us and bring us the dragon stone.”

  “And what about your cousin Floki?” asked Sela. “It must be dangerous for him in Morholt, especially now. What will he do?”

  “Floki always worried he'd be forced to return to Mount Velik eventually. The day just came sooner than he thought. He's a talented horse breeder, and my clan will be happy to take him back.”

  “Thorin, have you informed Hergung?” said Rali.

  “Yes,” said Thorin. “I told King Hergung this morning. He said that since the dwarves are still officially neutral in this matter that he would leave the decision up to you. So… what do you say, King Rali?”