by Ally Shields
“Back here.” Trystan kept his voice low as he pointed to a rear fence. “I feel a tingle of magical energy where some of them must have come over.” He ran his hands over the surface. “I can’t identify any individual magic.” His face sagged with disappointment.
Kam watched as he searched for evidence of his brother’s survival. “There were five, Tryst. That has to include Tadeous.”
“Unless someone else has joined them. Several are missing from Cyrilia. I don’t know whether they’ve relocated due to our failing environment or if they’ve joined the fugitives.”
“But five is suggestive.”
“Yes. The others have taken their families with them. Dreysel, Andolf, Tad, and Seye are the only loners,” Trystan said.
“Wait a minute. Is there another one?” Kam demanded. “Who’s Seye? I thought the fourth Cyrilian with Jermon was named Merim.”
“Merim-Seye, but he’s known to us as Seye. In any case, if this is the original five, they clearly escaped the New Orleans fire.”
“By using an emergency escape portal.” Kam gave a disgusted shake of her head and turned to look over the ruins. “And now they’re after artifacts so small they’re relatively worthless on an open market.”
“We’re missing something,” Seth said. “Let’s keep looking for the portal and talk with the site guides. Maybe there’s been a recent, major discovery—something powerful or priceless—that’ll make sense of this.”
They scouted the village and the surrounding area for remnants of a portal. Nothing. It had been a long shot. Jermon would have erased it. Unless they happened to stumble upon the exact spot, it wasn’t likely they’d detect it, and even less likely it would tell them anything.
They deactivated the invisibility rings and returned to the excavation entrance to await the arrival of the tourist guides. A few visitors with sun hats and canteens had already collected at the gates.
Kam and her friends stayed off to the side. They’d worn jeans and T-shirts today in hopes of blending with other tourists. Trystan’s long, pale hair was tied back, the tips of his elven ears hidden under a khaki safari hat, and the hat brim lowered so his multi-colored eyes would go unnoticed. Kam and Seth were bareheaded, their pointed ears smoothed by Elvenrude’s portal adaptation. Kam’s blue eyes and Seth’s green ones—while remarkable in intensity—were acceptable colors if no one looked too closely.
When the first guide arrived, Seth engaged the attractive young woman with questions about the site. Kam lifted a brow. He was carrying the flirting a little too far, but the guide was flattered and might have chatted all day if the more senior guides hadn’t arrived and assigned her a group to escort.
Seth’s eyes twinkled when he rejoined the group. “Nothing remarkable at the digs in several weeks. But…” he held up a finger, “something happened in Fira last night. A break-in at the Museum of Prehistoric Thira. It’s where most of their finds are displayed.”
“What was taken?”
Seth pointed toward the path to the island capitol. “She didn’t know, but I think we should find out.”
* * *
The guard at the Museum of Prehistoric Thira shrugged. “Things happen. Foreigners want souvenirs, and the dig operators refuse to let them take even the small stuff. Items have disappeared from the museum before. Shoplifting.” He scratched his head. “No break-ins though. Not before last night.”
“Did the thieves get away with much?”
“Some old stone pieces.” The guard glanced at an official-looking man with a name tag frowning at them. “I should get back to work. They don’t like us talking with tourists.”
“What kind of stones?” Kam asked hurriedly.
“Mostly obsidian cutting tools.”
He returned to his duties, and the museum official lost interest. Kam, Seth, and Trystan headed for the door.
“What’s with the obsidian?” Trystan asked.
Kam shook her head. “It’s a recurring theme. Maybe we should ask King Seliwyn again. He seems to share their fascination.”
“An art trader might have an idea,” Seth suggested, eyeing her. “Don’t you know someone?”
“I can reach out to a few contacts, but if the art world knew of something big I would have heard it before now.”
“Not if it’s magical,” Trystan said. “What’s important to us might be of no or little interest to humans…something they wouldn’t even recognize as valuable. If that’s the case, Dreysel and the others are already way ahead of us. They know what it is.”
* * *
When they transported back to the Ryndel Guild, it was nearly 6:00 a.m. in New Orleans. To Kam’s surprise, Guild Master Barrott was already on duty, and he hurried down the stairs from the second floor, waving a white card in his hand.
“I have an urgent message for Prince Trystan.” He handed the note to the Cyrilian. “It’s from King Seliwyn.”
Trystan tipped his head toward Seth and Kam. “What could be this pressing?”
“Only one way to find out,” Seth said.
While Trystan read the note, his brow furrowed, and he read it a second time before handing the message to Kam and Seth. “He wants to meet with my father.”
“Why now? He knows how ill King Radnor is.” Kam scanned the brief message. “It doesn’t say.”
“You can be damned sure it isn’t a social call,” Seth said.
Barrott cleared his throat. “I was told the king wants the two of you to accompany him and Brunic on the visit.”
“This gets stranger and stranger.” Kam looked at Seth. “I guess we better clean up.”
“I’ll do the same,” Trystan said. “And see if my father is in any shape for visitors. He has good and bad days. I’ll contact you as soon as I return.”
“If we’re ready first, we’ll wait for you here,” Seth said.
Trystan nodded and climbed the stairs to a second portal recently set up in the Guild Master’s office. It led directly to Cyrilia.
Forty minutes later, Kam and Seth were back, showered and reasonably alert. Barrott had sent a message to Elvenrude regarding their return from Greece, and the king was waiting for final confirmation of the Cyrilian trip. Kam and Seth drank coffee in Barrott’s office until Trystan arrived several minutes behind them.
“All set.” The prince stepped out of the portal looking elegant in formal court attire of ivory with braided, gold trim. “My father is alert and understands who’s coming. He seemed eager for the meeting. But we should hurry. I can’t guarantee how long he’ll be this lucid.”
They transported to Elvenrude, met briefly with Seliwyn—who refused to answer their broad hints about the reason for this meeting—and the five of them went directly to Cyrilia. Kam pulled Brunic aside to demand an explanation, but he claimed he didn’t know either. “He won’t tell me anything. It’s most unlike him.”
This was the first time Kam had been inside the main rooms of the Cyrilian palace since she was kidnapped and escaped several months ago. The marble had deteriorated to a dull grayish-white because part of the magic sustaining it had been diverted to the climate project. Unlike Elvenrude, whose founders had used most of their magic to mirror the earthen world with life-sustaining natural elements, the Cyrilians had used magic for everything, from creating and maintaining the structures they lived in to producing the foods they ate. The palace’s dimming colors only made Cyrilia’s continuing decline more obvious.
Trystan led them through several corridors, finally stopping in a wing Kam hadn’t seen before. He opened a large door and swept his arm for King Seliwyn to precede him. Trystan followed him in, then Captain Brunic, and finally Kam and Seth.
What looked like a large sitting room was empty except for the ornate furnishings in ivory and gold. Tapestry of gold and green covered the floor. These too had lost their luster and richness. Trystan crossed to a second door, disappeared inside, then returned to motion them to follow.
Surrounded by pillows, King R
adnor lay in a huge bed, draped with velvety fabric of green and ivory. His royal physician stood at his side, and two guards kept watch from the corners of the room. Radnor’s long hair was pure white and his complexion a near match as if life had almost drained from his thin body. Nevertheless, his face bore a welcoming smile, and he held out a frail hand for King Seliwyn to come closer.
“Welcome to my kingdom,” he said. “Such as it is. I am honored to meet you. My son has told me of your kindness.”
“It is I who am honored.” Seliwyn stepped forward and took Radnor’s hand briefly. “I do not wish to tire you, but I have an important matter to discuss. I must begin with what may seem an outrageous request…absolute privacy. Just the two of us. No one else.”
“I cannot allow that,” the physician said. “Nor can his majesty be left unprotected.”
Radnor’s brittle laugh startled Kam. “Protect what, Milo? I’m almost gone. Please leave us. No arguments. I am most curious to hear what must be said in such secrecy.”
Trystan took charge and in spite of the physician’s renewed protests and dark looks, he removed everyone and firmly closed the door. “He has little time left. If this is his wish, it is my pleasure to do this small thing for him. You cannot stop the ravages of time, healer.”
The physician’s expression shifted from annoyance to sorrow. “It is hard to watch him fail like this. If only I could do more.”
“You’ve done much. You’ve given him more than healing…you’ve offered friendship for more years than I can count.”
“What could the two kings possibly have to discuss?” Kam asked Seth and Brunic as Trystan spoke with the grieving healer. “They don’t even know each other, do they?”
“To my knowledge, they’ve never met.” Brunic shrugged. “I can’t even guess what Seliwyn came to say or to learn, but he has been in seclusion since you met with him yesterday. I know secrets exist that pass only from one of Elvenrude’s monarchs to the next. There is a portion of the castle that is inaccessible to the rest of us, and the king was in there late last night. I’ve heard it contains a vault that opens only to the king’s cross key.”
Kam hesitated, intrigued by what might be hidden in the vault, but fearful Brunic would stop talking if she asked. She kept her curiosity from her face. “Why would he share any of Elvenrude’s secrets with Cyrilia’s king?”
“I’m not saying he would—although it may be something only another monarch would understand,” Brunic said. “But I know he doesn’t tell me everything.”
The conversation dwindled after that. Twenty minutes later, the bedchamber door opened and King Seliwyn stepped out. He nodded at the physician. “He’s fallen asleep, but we were finished.”
Kam studied the king’s face. He looked more somber, or maybe more contemplative, than when they arrived. Was it due to King Radnor’s condition or the result of their discussion?
Seliwyn turned to Trystan. “Is there somewhere the rest of us can talk privately?” He swept his gaze over the other three. “It’s time to break a sacred oath. The survival of both our worlds could depend on it.”
Kam and Seth exchanged looks as Trystan led them through the winding palace halls to his personal chambers. Seliwyn remained quiet and withdrawn until they were settled. Captain Brunic hovered at his sovereign’s side.
Seliwyn finally flashed a hint of a smile. “It’s all right, Brunic. I’m not going to collapse on you, but this is a momentous decision. I’m about to reveal a secret that has been kept by Elvenrude’s monarchs for thousands of years…since our world began. I do not take this step lightly. I want your oath it will go no further than the five of us and King Radnor, who already knows.” He held out his hand with the royal silver crest surrounded by diamonds and four black points.
Kam and the three men—including the Cyrilian prince—placed their hands over his ring and swore to keep their silence. When the oath was made, the king held up his hand again and rotated it until light reflected from the ring’s stones. “Have you ever wondered about the black gemstones? They are obsidian. It is the source of all elven magic.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Kam stared open-mouthed. Obsidian. Could it restore Cyrilia? Is that why Jermon and Dreysel were looking for it? No, not Jermon. He wouldn’t care about Cyrilia, but Dreysel, maybe. But how would they know Seliwyn’s secret? What else could they do with obsidian? She forced herself to ignore her jumbled thoughts and concentrate on what King Seliwyn was saying.
“Black obsidian born from the core of earth by volcanic activity holds and renews our magic. It cannot be duplicated in any other way. When Elvenrude was formed, the enchantment bound a large piece of the sacred rock called the Heart of Ishka inside a hidden vault. It is the responsibility of each monarch to guard it with our lives. The same vault contains the books explaining the formation of our world, the rituals involved, and how it is maintained by the obsidian.”
“Is that the Chruthud Elvenrude?” Seth interrupted.
Seliwyn shook his head. “That is the public version which does not contain the detailed information nor the spells and incantations. Obsidian is never mentioned. But it does speak of a dark stone, an uncomfortably close reference. Why do you ask?”
“Jermon was reading it in his cell last summer. He’s clever enough to understand the implications.”
“Then he suspects its power,” Brunic said. “That explains the thefts and the attack to drive your spotter away.”
“It is what I feared,” Seliwyn said.
“They’re collecting obsidian, but to do what? Restore Cyrilia? Or perhaps start another world?” Kam broke off and turned her attention to the king. “Are there other uses? Could an outside source of obsidian be used against Elvenrude?”
Seliwyn frowned. “I’m not sure how. We should consult the mystics, but whatever Jermon intends, there’s one thing he doesn’t know. Modern obsidian—any formed by volcanic eruptions since the birth of man—contains little or no elven magic. Only the oldest surviving pieces going back to what humans refer to as the Cretaceous Period carry its full impact. Unless these stolen artifacts are made from prehistoric finds of black obsidian, they are useless. Colored forms, containing any impurities, have never carried our magic.”
He turned to Kam. “You noted the difference in a report on a retrieval several months ago.”
Kam frowned, thinking back over the last eighteen months. “There was one piece from Turkey that felt different.”
“Yes. It was a small but ancient piece, and I added it to the vault.”
“Your private collection,” she said, suddenly understanding.
Seliwyn smiled.
“What does this all mean for Cyrilia?” Trystan had listened quietly until now. “My father has never mentioned such a vault in our world. Do we have one?”
“At one time I’m sure you did, but it may no longer exist. I’ve puzzled over the situation for weeks, wondering how your source could have failed. My oath forbade any discussion, and I assumed you and your father were under a similar oath of secrecy. But the recent obsidian thefts have been most alarming. It appeared to me that someone already knew the truth. After meditating and agonizing over it the last twenty-four hours, I decided I must approach your father.”
Trystan stared at King Seliwyn. “Did he know any of this?”
“Apparently not. No secret knowledge was passed to him. He said your original founder was killed and the first palace swallowed by an earthquake during Cyrilia’s early formation. Any knowledge or books of knowledge must have been lost at that time, and the bulk of the obsidian destroyed or returned to its core.”
“Then our world is truly doomed.”
“Unless you do what Jermon is doing. Search for more,” Seth said.
Kam flipped out her hand. “Where? Our spotters have found one tiny piece in the last year.” She turned to Seliwyn. “How many additional pieces were found before that?”
“Not many,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t a pr
iority. Elvenrude had no need.” He glanced at Trystan. “I offered my private collection to your father, but it is merely a pittance. The Heart of Ishka weighs twenty pounds. I have less than a pound, and it isn’t nearly as pure or as old.”
“But it’s a start.” Trystan looked more hopeful than Kam had seen him before. “Now that we know what to look for, we will scour the earth. I cannot thank you enough, King Seliwyn. You’ve given us a chance.”
“Only if you get there before Dreysel and Jermon do and stop whatever scheme they’re planning,” Kam said.
Everyone looked at her.
“I doubt it they’re collecting it for anyone’s benefit other than their own,” she said.
“Dreysel’s always wanted to rule Cyrilia.” Trystan looked thoughtful. “But if he restores our homeland, he will have earned the right.”
“At what cost to the rest of us? We’d be at war again.”
Seliwyn turned a grave face to Kam. “What did you find in Greece? Any proof of Jermon? A hint to their plans?”
“Not specifically him, but it has to be. There’s magical residue. We also learned of a break-in at a museum. More obsidian was taken.”
“Their activity is one of the reasons I chose to share Elvenrude’s secret with you. Whatever the renegades are planning, they’re a threat to both existing elven worlds.” Seliwyn frowned at Brunic. “If Jermon is alive, he’s behind much of the unrest at home. Increase your efforts to root out the rebels. Use any and all of our resources. That will allow the others…” he lifted a brow at Kam and Seth, “to work with Prince Trystan to find deposits or artifacts of prehistoric obsidian—and to capture the fugitives. I will rest easier when Jermon Lormarc is back under lock and key.”
