by A. R. Cook
“Okay, I think I understand that.” Desert Rain paused to soak that in. “And this is something all the Hijn—except me—know?”
“Not exactly. While they know that the Sage Dragons brought the wild magic under control, they do not know the means in which they did so. The dragons created a powerful item for that purpose. The old elven texts have refered to it as the Equanume Balance, the first and last Machine of Ancient Magic. It worked on the principle that all magic types were in one of two groups: love and fear, or light and dark. Somehow, the Equanume Balance was broken, and one half was given to the elves, since the dragons believed they would be the one race that would not try to use it to further their own purposes. It is an object that has remained untouched, uncorrupted, since the time it was bequeathed to the elves, and remained in the safekeeping of the Elfë Tiagas when we Ahshi and the nomadic elves left. I conclude that the reason for the Elfë Tiagas’ frightened behavior is because this item has once again tipped.”
“Tipped?” Desert Rain asked blankly.
“Tipped,” Anthron repeated. “The magic of the Elfë Tiagas revolves around the aura from the piece of the Equanume Balance. When it tips, it is certain that their possession of their magic is threatened.”
He turned the book he had in front of him to show Desert Rain a picture. It was a crude drawing, of something that looked mechanical, alien, yet a hint of the organic.
“The Lightscale,” Anthron whispered, as if it were a curse.
“The what?” Desert Rain observed the picture more closely. It did look like a measuring scale—except it was much taller than a normal scale, the chains of it looked little more than thread, and the plates had a strange shape, more like globes than plates. It was drawn as if the artist didn’t quite know how to interpret all the parts, except for one piece: a symbol on top, an orb—perhaps a jewel?--around which two sculpted dragons intertwined.
“It is the Lightscale, the embodiment of all the good magic strewn throughout Luuva Gros, once pure chaos, tamed to be used by the Sages and mortals alike.”
Desert Rain studied the picture a little longer. “So the elves know of this device, and they are sworn to secrecy. That means the only Hijn who would know of it would be…”
“Those of elven heritage,” Anthron confirmed.
“Clova and Kidran.” Desert Rain rubbed her chin, pondering. “Wait, if there’s a Lightscale, and that’s half of the…the Balance, and you said it was to maintain light and dark, then there must also a—” The next word stuck harshly in her throat. “—darkscale.” Her fingers coiled into fists. “The Darkscale clan have something to do with this, don’t they?”
“Sadly, they are the ones who got their hands on the other half of the Equanume. No one is quite sure how—most say the demons stole it from the dragons. There is also the possibility that an adversary of the Sages, one who opposed what they stood for, gave it to them.”
“The…Lifescourge?” Desert Rain remembered what Merros had told her back in the Grand Chambers of Vaes Galahar, and his words still sent shivers throughout her body.
Anthron shrugged. “It is possible. I have heard of an ancient entity called the Lifescourge. I find the rumors insubstantial. There are no records of such an evil creature existing except through hearsay.”
“I need a moment, please.” Desert Rain stood up and began to slowly pace back and forth. What kind of twisted fairy tale was this? Some ancient item of magic, created by dragons—this was about as fantastic as any story she had ever written. She could even tell where this was going—something as powerful as this Lightscale could stop the Wretched, but the Darkscale device could destroy the Noble Races as well. But was this Lightscale something that could help her stop Katawa? And if it really was so great, why hadn’t the elves ever used it to fight the Wretched? Or why hadn’t the Darkscale demons ever used their scale against the Knighthood? Was the Lifescourge really tied into this, as the other Hijn had feared? Despite her rising mountain of questions, right now she wanted to know what this Lightscale had to do with her.
“I know that for you, this is all baffling,” Anthron apologized. “But the reason I tell you all this is because if the Lightscale has indeed tipped like I theorize, then it either means that a presence of darkness is weakening it, or a presence of light is strengthening it. There has never been anyone to activate the power of the Lightscale in centuries, so the northern elves presume that a great darkness is coming there way to destroy them. But there may be one who can show them that this tipping is due to a presence of goodness, and can get the Elfë Tiagas to release Hijn Kidran.”
Desert Rain’s ears perked up in relief. “Really? Who is this person? Where can I find him?”
“Her,” Anthron corrected the girl. “And she’s standing across the table from me.”
Desert Rain’s first reaction was to laugh, but the laughter wilted into a strand of incoherent phrases. “But I…no, that’s not…I think you’re…that’s the most…what in Luuva…” She sat down, composing herself. “Sir Anthron, I think you make too much of me. I’m a desert dweller. I don’t have magic. I don’t have any special skills. I am absolutely, positively, the last being in Luuva Gros who could possibly activate any kind of machine of Ancient Magic.”
“Not according to your merchant friend,” Anthron said. “I believe he said you shattered a dagger with one word?”
“Yeah, but that was…that was a fluke. I didn’t even know what I was saying.”
“True magic is never a fluke,” Anthron replied firmly.
“For the love of Guerda-Shalyr—why not Clova? She’s much more powerful than I am, and she was born elven. The Elfë Tiagas would respond to her more willingly than to me—”
Anthron sighed in exasperation. “What you must understand is that there are many kinds of magics in the world: elemental magic, like those of Hijn Clova; magic of the mind and body, like that of the Healing Hijn; and then there is a rarer kind—since there were few dragons born of this nature—a magic older than earth, the seas, the skies, time itself…a light surrounding this world that can never be quelled. The Moon Dragoness was one such Sage.”
“You know…who she was? Who I am?”
“That is a moonstone on your forehead, is it not?” Anthron brushed that one troublesome strand of hair from his face. “Legend has it that it was a celestial dragon who built the half of the Equanume Balance that is the Lightscale. Therefore, it is you who can activate it.”
Desert Rain could feel a drop of sweat trail down the side of her face. “But this is all a theory, right? I mean, there’s no proof that a Hijn like me could do anything with this Lightscale. We’re assuming it’s possible, right?”
“Yes, it is a theory. But you wanted to know of a possible means to defeat the Wretched who distorts all he touches, true? Since you dismiss your own magic as a ‘fluke,’ the Lightscale would be the best weapon to fight your adversary, without bringing harm to the other Hijn.”
“But if the Lightscale is with the Elfë Tiagas, that’s all the way up in the Tiagalands, hundreds if not thousands of miles from here! And I’d have to go through the Inbetween, and I’m dead meat if I go there. And even if I could get through there to the Tiagalands, I’d freeze to death before coming even close to finding the elves’ hidden cities!”
Anthron took back his book, shutting it with a quick flip of his hand. “So you find this information worthless?”
Desert Rain bit her lip, having not expected that retort. “No, of course not. It’s something to go on, more than I could have come up with. But it’s…it’s a little unbelievable, you know? I mean, this sounds like a mission for heroes, for knights, for great wizards, not for…” She gestured with both hands to herself. “Well, look at me!”
Anthron did as she requested, observing her for a long moment. “And what do they have that you lack?”
“Everything!” Desert Rain stopped, and calmed herself, surprised that she had raised her voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. But wou
ld you tell me what it is that you see about me that I don’t—” Her eyes suddenly narrowed on Anthron. “Or do you even really see anything? What is this really about, Anthron? Why are you breaking such a sacred pact to tell me something that is merely a ‘theory’? Why tell me all this when you can’t even guarantee that I can do anything with this Lightscale? Or is this pact not important to you anymore—is this a secret that lost its value when the Ahshi left the old elven society?”
A glint of nervousness crept into Anthron’s eyes.
Desert Rain, eager for the truth, prodded further. “You don’t like your northern cousins, so you’ve been waiting for an opportunity to truly bend some control over them. What better way than through an age-old secret, one that means everything to them, but means nothing to you anymore? You don’t have the Lightscale, but why should they? What makes them worthy and not you? But you couldn’t go blabbing about it to anyone—not to humans or dwarves or whoever else might want the Lightscale for themselves. But here I am, a Hijn of a celestial dragoness, and you think you have a justified reason to tell me, to have me force them to hand it over. Oh, you broke a centuries-old pact, you spilled a secret more precious than life itself, but you did it in the name of goodness and justice. All so your cousins will no longer hold the power, and you can feel satisfied knowing that they’re squirming in their—”
Anthron slammed his hands on top of his books. The crystals at the table flared a bright red, throwing a monster light on his face. “THAT IS NOT THE REASON!”
A silence hung in the air after the echo of his shout died away. Anthron looked more shocked at his outburst than Desert Rain. His hands were shaking, his loose lock of hair dangling over his left eye. With an unsteady hand, he tucked the strand of hair behind his pointed ear. The light of the crystals changed to match the clear blue of his eyes, which were cast down at his books, seeking comfort in their familiar covers and bindings. He placed his hands on them, slowly steadying himself.
“You seek truth,” he finally said, in a voice less steady than it had been. “I cannot deprive you of that. You are worried about my intentions.”
“Yes, I am,” Desert Rain admitted. “It’s not that I don’t think you honorable, Sir Anthron, but people don’t go telling such valuable secrets just to be helpful.”
“No, I suppose they don’t.” He sighed, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “Desert Rain, there are many reasons I could give you for my actions here. Perhaps I overwhelm you with my explanations, and that angers you. If I must simplify this to its most bare, basic reason, it would be that…I fear.”
The intensity in Desert Rain melted into curious sympathy. “You fear what?”
Anthron’s lips trembled. He closed his eyes. “I fear what is coming. Elves fear change. Change is going to happen—great, dark changes. All my knowledge, all my logic, all my intellect can’t halt or redirect it.” He opened his eyes to look at her. “It is out of my control. It is Destiny at work, and all I can see, so clearly, is that you are in its design. Where more powerful Hijn failed, you endured. Where Death chased you, you escaped. Where others are alone, you are protected by forces beyond my comprehension.”
Desert Rain’s hand floated up towards the shaman’s bracelet on her arm. It all did seem illogically in her favor.
“Forgive me if my reasons may be selfish,” Anthron continued, “but this is all I can do to direct the future, to instill hope for my people. For elves of all factions. All I can do is guide one who may be able to stop the darkness who could bring about another change throughout Luuva Gros, one that could bring its end.”
That hit Desert Rain between the eyes like a rock. She blinked to clear her head. “Its end? This is between Katawa and his clan. How would this affect all of Luuva Gros—”
“He destroys the Darkscale Court, he becomes possessor of the Darkscale. With it, he can reshape all of Luuva Gros to his wicked design…and everyone in it.”
CHAPTER TEN
The Plan
It was not that this whole situation had been even remotely good before, but now Desert Rain saw how bad it really was. Katawa, who was already impervious, getting his hands on an object like the Darkscale—he could extend his distortion as far as he desired. In the back of her mind, she hoped that his drive to get revenge on his clan was his sole intention, that maybe the Darkscale device meant little to him. But who was she kidding? Of course he’d use it, if he had it.
She had been handed the impossible duty of being the one to stop him, because this elven philosopher, sitting so nonchalantly in front of her, had categorized her as a unique Hijn. This certainly explained why he had treated her so oddly when they first met. As if being a Hijn wasn’t rare enough, now she had to be told that she was even rarer than that—an heir of a celestial dragon. What was that supposed to mean, anyway? That she was supposed to be able to do something incredible, colossal, world-changingly extraordinary with her gift—why not drop a ton of bricks on her shoulders and ask her to swim across the ocean to the Otherlands? Why hadn’t Bellaluna, for all the knowledge and words of wisdom she had given her, told her about any of this?
She knew it was useless to think it, but the words flickered across her mind anyway: Swordmaster Skyhan must have been a Hijn of celestial magic too. He was master of Purelight, the most powerful magic anyone in Luuva Gros possessed. If there really was a twist of Fate at work here, then he should have been the one to activate the Lightscale. Or maybe Fate liked to have a good, hard laugh. Fate would say something like, eh, the Swordmaster’s too obvious. Hey, let’s tell that donkey-eared freak that she’s got to fight that Wretched that she was foolish enough to care for! It’ll be a hoot!
Anthron waited in silence, apparently having nothing more to say.
“Thank you for telling me all this, Sir Anthron. I know it must not have been an easy decision for you, to break your pact. But you must have a lot of faith in me, and I’m very grateful for that. But I’m going to need time alone to think all this through.”
Anthron nodded. “Very well. Although I should perhaps warn you, it may be tricky for you to think alone, when your friends are so adamant to know what you’re doing at all times.”
“Oh, no, Mac and Chiriku would give me privacy if I said I needed it—”
She paused, noticing that Anthron’s words had a meaning behind them. He smiled wryly at her. Desert Rain lifted a questioning finger to point towards the entrance of the room. Anthron nodded once. Desert Rain wiped a hand over her face. “Mac? Are you out there?”
She heard a faint Bayou curse word come from outside the door.
Desert Rain lifted her head up. “Mac, you have to stop this habit of eavesdropping on everyone’s conversations! This was supposed to be private!”
Mac appeared in the frame of the door, throwing an accusing finger to point behind him. “Hey, it all wasn’t-tkk my idea! Chi saw you following that philos’pher fellow and talked me into going after you!”
Chiriku came up behind him, swatting the back of his head. “You two-faced belly-crawler! It was your idea! You were so curious to know what was going on—”
They bickered for a good six seconds before Desert Rain cut them off. “All right, all right. I don’t care whose idea it was. How much did you both hear?”
Mac and Chiriku shifted their eyes to gaze around the room in an act of ignorance.
“You heard everything.” Desert Rain cast Anthron an apologetic look. She turned back to Mac and Chiriku. “Neither of you can ever, ever tell anyone else what you heard, understand? Anthron would get into real trouble if the Ahshi knew what he’s done.”
“Calm yourself, Hijn Desert Rain.” Anthron gathered his books and stood up. “It is good that they know. After all, it would be rather confusing to them to join you on your journey, not knowing where they were going or what they were searching for.”
Desert Rain snapped her head back to the elf. “What? Oh, no, no, no. They can’t come with me. This is all so…I’ve already pu
t them through too much.”
“Yeah, that’s great. Talk about us as if we’re not here.” Chiriku crossed her arms in her usual defiant way. “Look, I’m going to go with you, whether you like it or not.”
“Chiriku, this is serious—”
“I know it’s serious! Don’t you dare treat me like a kid! It’s not always about you, you know. I got a score to settle with that demon. If that son of a maggot hadn’t driven us out of Syphurius, my grandfather wouldn’t have gotten sick and he’d still be alive.” She reached a hand back to place it on the handle of her warhammer, gripping it as the feathers on her head and neck fluffed up. “I’ve lost everything I had because of that Wretched. You want me to go home? What home? There’s nothing for me back in Syphurius, nothing for a half-breed with no family. All I want now is to bury my hammer in that demon’s face for what he’s done to me. Are you going to stand there and have the gall to tell me that I can’t come along? Who in the Eternal Deep do you think you are?”
Desert Rain went rigid at this verbal assault. Chiriku may have normally been short-tempered and stubborn, but there was a look of vehemence in her eye that dared Desert Rain to tell her not to come. The more Desert Rain thought about it, it might be unwise to turn her away. Desert Rain couldn’t be sure she could fight the way she did against the Zi’Gax again, but Chiriku knew how to fight, and fight well. It would be good to have Chiriku along, both as a fighter and someone who was street-wise, something Desert Rain was not. Whatever obstacle should arise, whether it would be man or beast, Chiriku would be able to face it head on without hesitation. Plus, Desert Rain had promised Hibbletom that she would keep an eye on Chiriku. Who else did the Quetzalin have to look out for her now?
The Hijn turned to look at Mac. Did he feel the same way? He did not look fazed by anything he had heard. He gave her a wink, one that spoke for itself: I told you that you had something special about you, didn’t I, Gila?
It was evident to Desert Rain that she couldn’t turn either of them away. She had been afraid that she wouldn’t be able to protect them from danger if they came with her, but it had been they who had protected her—from goblins and Wretched, but also from her own self-doubt. If she went alone, she would never get far, and where would Mac and Chiriku go in a land where Katawa and his manipulated minions, his Distorted, could show up at any turn? As long as they were all together, they would all protect each other.
