King Rodick nodded, darkness momentarily clouding his features. “We don’t speak of it,” he said. “Now, tell me about this plan of Mamaeth’s”
Randall nodded and told the story of his travel to the elven forests, and his fight with Mamaeth. He spoke with bitterness of their travels to Horsehead Tower, and their betrayal by the mercenary Field Mage there, though he kept secret the object of her desire. He only mentioned that she wanted to steal a rare magical artifact from him.
“Men are greedy,” the king opined. “Quick to use force to steal from others.” Randall opened his mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut again. If his own experiences were any indication, King Rodick hadn’t struck too far off the mark.
“But I do not believe that she knew she was trying to steal from an Archmage,” he chuckled. “If she did, she may have had second thoughts.”
“An Archmage?” Randall asked. It was the second time he heard himself called that by the dwarves.
“What do you know about the history of magic?” the king asked, rather than answering the question.
“Well,” Randall said, thinking. “Nothing, really. I know that magic comes from Llandra, and that creatures like donnans live there, but they prefer to live here. I don’t really know why. I had only been training about a year before my master was killed.”
The king cast his gaze toward Nia, but she merely shrugged. “I am not a Mage,” she said.
“Neither am I, but I know our history,” the king retorted. “Elves have much longer lives than dwarves. Perhaps that is why we keep such meticulous records. Llandra is a vicious and cruel place. Its inhabitants are constantly at war with each other. Only the strongest and most brutal can survive there. But that is not the reason why they seek to come here.”
“It’s not?” Randall asked. It seemed like a good enough reason to him.
“No. Those from Llandra come here for power. Magic may come from Llandra, but magic doesn’t work there. Imagine the strongest, cruelest man you know. Now give him the knowledge that there is another world, and if he could somehow step across to it, he would become a god.”
“But your people are from Llandra. The elves too,” Randall protested. “You might be different from us, but you’re nothing at all like you describe.”
“Yes,” Rodick acknowledged. “But it has been centuries since the last Summoning Device was created. After the Migration, many from Llandra were exterminated by your kind after years of war. Our kind had to change in order to learn to live with the inhabitants of this world. Those that didn’t died. Many of your people died as well. If another Device has been created, it means much suffering is coming.”
“But what about Berry? The donnan. He didn’t come centuries ago, and he isn’t cruel and evil,” Randall protested.
“Even among our histories, the donnan are poorly understood. The old writings mention that they are nearly legendary, even on Llandra. It is said they were powerful tricksters, capable of performing uncanny miracles. I assume it to mean that they are able to perform magic in both worlds. I would not begin to guess at the motivations of such a creature.”
Randall thought about that a moment, before Rodick spoke again. “Where is your friend? I am sure he could shed much light on what is happening.”
“We got separated in the tunnels while fighting giant centipedes,” Randall answered glumly. “Nia’s cat, as well. I had hoped they would have found their way here by now.”
“You fought the skald?” the king asked, sounding impressed. “We had to close whole sections of our tunnels because of their infestation. We will send out teams of guardsmen until they are found, if they still live. Until then, you are welcome to stay here, as our guests.”
Chapter 21
After their initial meeting, King Rodick was too busy with the affairs of his kingdom to meet again with his guests, but Randall had many opportunities to speak with Dask over the course of the next several days. He was afraid the dwarf would be angry and offended that he had gotten the drop on him in the King’s chamber, but the Court Mage seemed as curious about Randall as Randall was about him.
The two often spent long hours peppering each other with questions. Nia sometimes sat in on these sessions, but more often than not she found some reason to beg off and wander the dwarven stronghold. When asked about it, she shrugged off the question.
“It’s boring,” she explained. “And half the time, I don’t even know what you two are talking about.” At least she didn’t seem as annoyed as when Randall and Kirsti would spend hours talking about magic.
“What exactly is an Archmage, anyway?” Randall asked one day when the subject had come up.
Dask scratched his chin for a moment. “I suppose the easiest way to put it is that an Archmage is someone who can work magic with will,” he offered.
“But why is that so unusual? Can’t the fae do it?” Randall asked, confused. “Master Erliand always said only the fae could work magic by will. If I really am a half-breed like the elves seem to think, couldn’t it be possible for me to do it too?”
“Yes, yes. But it’s not the same thing at all. You are mixing up two different kinds of magic.”
“What do you mean?” Randall asked. “Erliand always said that there were four types of magic. Words, symbols, elemental magic, and will. Five if you count summoning. And six, I guess, if you count the Sight.”
“Our people see things a little differently,” Dask explained. “There is only instinctive magic and lexical magic. Instinctive magic is what you might consider will-based magic. We call them talents.”
Randall listened attentively. It never occurred to him there might be different ways of looking at magic. Seeing that he had the young man’s attention, Dask continued.
“Every kind of fae has an inborn talent. Take the elves, for instance. They can influence a man’s heart and mind, and the glamour is an extension of that ability. They do it instinctively, without the need of spells or talismans. These kinds of abilities work on both sides of the veil, though it is written that talents work much more strongly on Llandra than they do here.”
“What kind of talents do the dwarves have?” Randall asked with growing curiosity.
Dask ignored the question and continued. “Lexical magic is what we consider ‘real’ magic. Just like with your people, lexical magic can only be wielded by one who can command Llandra to shape the world around him. You would call this symbol magic and spoken magic.”
“Why do you call it lexical magic?” Randall asked. “Words and symbols work completely differently.”
“Do they?” Dask asked. “What is a symbol, but a picture of a word? Both instruct and define the change that the Mage wishes to create within the world. They are two sides to the same coin.”
“What is an Archmage, then? I’m confused,” Randall confessed.
Dask shook his head in frustration. “Let me explain by way of example,” he said. “When you called forth your shield in King Rodick’s chamber, you used lexical magic. You spoke, Llandra listened, and your shield was formed, yes?”
Randall nodded and Dask continued. “Did you tell Llandra how big to make the shield, or where to create it? Did you explain to the magic that you wished the shield to follow you as you advanced on the throne?”
“No,” Randall said. “Of course not. That would be silly.”
Dask snorted. “Then why did the shield appear around you, and not around me? Why did it not stand still as you strode forward?”
“Well, because I didn’t want it to,” Randall said. “I called forth the magic, and I said the words, and it did what I wanted.”
“It did what you wanted. That is true will-based magic,” Dask said, sitting back. “I cannot do that. No fae can. If I were to conjure a shield, I would have to know how to command it to move and where to appear. What you did by will alone would take a tremendous amount of study into the languages of magic.”
Randall’s memory flashed back to his time in Hor
sehead Tower. “That’s why Kirsti was so fascinated!” he blurted out.
“She was the Field Mage at Horsehead Tower,” he explained at Dask’s puzzled look. “When I showed her how I called forth flame to light a candle, she seemed confused, even though I thought it was a simple spell. When she did the same thing, it was a lot more complicated.”
Dask nodded at the explanation. “I can understand why. True magic takes many years to master. In essence, it is the same as becoming fluent in a number of different languages. But with only a rudimentary knowledge of lexical magic, an Archmage can create master-level effects, simply because you will it so.”
“Oh,” Randall said as things fell into place in his mind, like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture. If he were an Archmage, it would explain why Aiden had thought he had trained for years, and why he was able to beat him and a group of other Mages with only a handful of spells. It would explain why he was able to fight Mamaeth to a standstill, and escape Horsehead Tower. It would explain how he was able to construct a healing talisman in hours when it had taken Master Erliand months.
He had gotten so used to thinking of himself as inferior, it was hard to accept the knowledge that he might be so much more. His heart beat rapidly as he considered the possibility that he wasn’t a second-rate Mage at all, but perhaps one of the most powerful on Tallia.
“Are there many more like me?” Randall asked softly. “It might help me to understand if I could speak to someone who uses magic like I do.”
Dask snorted and shook his head. “There are none like you,” he said. “The last Archmage recorded in our histories was Zeles the Mad. That was during the time of Queen Bon, nearly nineteen hundred years ago. He was responsible for the last Great Migration. An Archmage is a rare and unpredictable occurrence, and you make King Rodick nervous. He will be happy when our lands are at your back.”
“The last Great Migration? There have been more?” Randall asked, stunned.
“According to our histories, there have been four,” Dask answered. “Our people entered this world during the first Migration. The elves, during the second. Of course, we were not the only fae to cross over. There were others as well, but your kind has managed to exterminate most of them.”
“Zeles was a powerful Mage,” he continued. “He ruled over much of Salianca near the coast. When he attempted to extend his influence to Tallia, the people here fought his armies to a standstill. Enraged, Zeles searched for a way to gain the upper hand. That was when he rediscovered the secret to the Summoning Device, and unleashed an army of horrors upon the land.”
“But we eventually won, right?” Randall asked.
“No. You didn’t,” Dask answered. “Zeles held this country for his entire life. When he died, the Device was lost, and the land fell into chaos and disarray, with powerful nobles each claiming a piece of Tallia for themselves. It was nearly two hundred years before the country was once again unified under a single ruler.”
“It would be fascinating to read your histories, if I ever get the chance,” Randall said with a sigh.
Dask leaned back, shaking his head.
“What?” Randall asked, confused.
“You haven’t once mentioned the treasures you’ve seen in our kingdom, but grow excited when I mention our libraries. It is a rare man that recognizes true wealth,” he said, smiling broadly.
* * *
Nia brushed Randall off when he tried to talk to her about what he had discovered. “I am not a Mage,” she would say. “Why should such things matter to me?” It was infuriating that she took no interest at all in his excitement, but he understood her reasoning. If he were a carpenter, would she really care if he discovered a new type of glue or a new way of cutting wood? Probably not, he guessed.
He stopped short of telling her about Zeles the Mad. He didn’t want to give her cause to be alarmed or nervous. The tale had a poetic kind of symmetry, however. If the last Archmage opened the way to Llandra, it only seemed fitting that he would be the one to prevent it from happening a second time.
The next day, one of the dwarven guardsmen sprinted up to Nia and Randall as they sat down to lunch. Dwarven meals were simple, mostly consisting of bland stews made of meat and boiled root vegetables. While they weren’t fancy, they filled you up quickly. Randall tried not to think too closely about where the stew meat came from. He hadn’t seen any cows or other livestock in his explorations, and he wasn’t sure they would thrive underground anyway.
“Your friends have been found,” the guardsman said as he came to their table. “King Rodick wishes to see all of you in the throne room,” he said.
Randall nodded and wolfed down two large bites of the hearty meal before pushing back from the table. Nia showed more grace, standing and waiting while he finished.
“Let’s go,” Randall said, his cheeks packed and juice dripping down his chin.
Berry and Hunter were both waiting in the throne room when the two of them arrived. The big cat’s fur was matted and crusted in places with dried blood, and the imp had a large gash running down the length of his back.
“They were well-fed when we found them,” King Rodick explained. “They had been hunting the skald.”
“They’re wounded,” Randall said with alarm, fishing his talisman from underneath his tunic. “Your talisman,” he said, glancing at Nia. “Put it around Hunter’s neck.”
Randall placed his own talisman around Berry’s neck and hugged the imp closely before telling his friend “I’ll let you charge it up. I need to see to Hunter.”
Berry chittered his acknowledgement as Randall began powering the device hanging around the big cat’s neck. King Rodick gasped audibly as the cuts and bruises on both creatures began to knit and heal before their eyes. He leaned over and whispered something into the Court Mage’s ear. Dask shook his head vigorously, saying only “heks-mast” in reply to whatever the king had suggested.
At the reminder, the king straightened his back and slapped his palm on the arm of his throne. Randall looked up to see a stern expression on the dwarf’s face.
“As I have decreed, you have been treated as a welcome guests and your friends have been found. Now, it is time for you to leave. I will send a unit of dwarves to accompany you to the edge of our kingdom, to ensure your safe passage.”
Randall wasn’t sure if the guardsmen were really there to keep them safe from the skald, or to ensure that he and his friends actually left the dwarven stronghold.
“Aren’t you sending more with us?” Randall asked. “Rhys likely has an entire army at his back.”
“My guardsmen will escort you to a passageway that opens very close to Ninove,” the king answered. “To send an army to the surface would be a violation of treaties made long ago with your people. War may be coming, but I will not risk inviting it into my kingdom with such a response.”
He held up his hand as Randall began to protest. “Dask is certain that you are an Archmage. If this is true, you will find a way to defeat this threat without putting my people in jeopardy.”
Randall blew out his cheeks in frustration, but realized there would be no further argument on the matter. He stood, taking the talisman from around Hunter’s neck and handing it back to Nia. Berry scrambled up his side, taking his customary place on Randall’s shoulder and slipping his own healing talisman over Randall’s head.
“Then we will leave immediately,” Randall said, anger hardening his words.
“Such was my wish also, for both of our sakes,” King Rodick agreed, motioning toward the far chamber door. “Your continued presence invites too many temptations.” His eyes lingered greedily on the talisman around the young Mage’s neck.
The guardsman standing at the door turned and opened it, and nearly twenty fully-armored dwarves filed in arraying themselves in neat formation. The lead dwarf motioned for Randall and his company to follow. Snorting angrily, Randall turned on his heel and exited the chamber, followed closely by Nia and Hunt
er.
“I can’t believe he just threw us out like that,” Randall exploded once they had left the room. None of the dwarves accompanying them appeared to speak Talish, and so Randall had no qualms about complaining openly.
“What else would you have him do?” Nia retorted. “King Rodick made a wise decision. If war comes and your people defeat the elven army, then he will continue to make trade with them as if nothing had changed. If the elves win and the portal between worlds remains open, then his people will rejoin the fae, and his rule will remain safe.”
“But we could use his help,” Randall whined in frustration.
“And did you offer him anything that would entice him to give such aid?” she asked.
“No, of course not,” he spat, frustrated. “I had hoped he would see it was the right thing to do. What would I have to offer him anyway?”
“Randall Miller, you are no diplomat,” she giggled. “But King Rodick was right. This is our task. We will find a way to stop Mamaeth and Rhys before the portal is opened. This, I promise you.”
Chapter 22
The dwarven tunnels reminded Randall of an ant’s nest more than anything else. They passed through mile after mile of seemingly endless corridors and passageways, and not once did he spy any kind of living quarters, markets, or other areas that dwarves might gather in. Just endless winding tunnels, with no symmetry or plan.
“How do they live like this?” Randall mused aloud. “I would never be able to find my way around this place.”
Nia only nodded, her face bright with anticipation. It was clear that she was anxious to be free of the tunnels and back into the open air once again.
The group would pass the occasional dwarf going about his business, but they kept to themselves, ignoring the odd procession. It was so different than when Randall visited the elven city. Nobody stopped and stared or whispered as they passed. The group might as well have been invisible for all Randall could tell.
After a while, they stopped seeing even the occasional dwarf, and the branches and side corridors became less frequent. Eventually, even those ceased appearing, and they found themselves walking down a featureless wide tunnel. Unlike most of the passageways they had traversed, the ceiling was set high above them, and Randall felt tiny marching down the middle of the corridor. The sound of their boot heels echoed hollowly off the far walls as they moved onward.
Magic Astray (The Llandra Saga) Page 16
