The mage’s words deepened Tallen’s concern. He already felt a great deal of pressure weighing upon him. Jennette’s death, his night in jail, and the intensity of their travel, all put a great strain on his emotions. He felt stretched tight, covering a hidden wave of despair that might overwhelm him if he faced it. The promise of direct tutelage under the Elf sorceress of legend did not settle his nerves any further. The books I’ve read say that she has helped to shape history since the Cataclysm. Many of the stories do not end well for those who encounter her.
The mage interrupted his thoughts. “So, ask your one question.”
Tallen abandoned the labyrinth his mind wandered and tried to focus. I have to make my nightly question count. “Have you ever been to the Dreamrealm yourself?” he blurted without knowing quite why.
The mage snorted. “Once, a long time before you were born. An erstwhile friend led me there. It takes a Dreamer to escort a normal mage into the Dreamrealm.”
“Who was your friend?”
“Your question is already asked.” Magus Britt turned his head away with fierceness. “You need your rest. We will arrive at Gavanor before noon tomorrow.”
Tallen’s blankets did not offer him enough comfort that night for sleep.
The land sloped gently downward across a long, open stretch. There the road split into a trident that stabbed toward three gates in the towering western wall of Gavanor. The wall stretched all the way from the Stonebourne Fork to the banks of the Andon, cutting off the triangle of land between the rivers in which the city lay. Tremendous towers sprang up on both rivers’ edges, over two miles apart. The wall connected them, and a dozen smaller towers stood guard between the gates.
Tallen stared in awe. To think Jaerd has served here for ten years!
Shading the sun with his hand, Tallen cast his eyes beyond the wall. He could not see much of the city, only a few scattered towers and a slight haze of smoke. In the distance, the duke’s citadel rose on a pinnacle of rock overlooking the confluence of the two rivers. Tallen had heard stories in the great room of the Gryphon, stories that told of how the violent energies of the Cataclysm cast Malador’s Stone out from the Dragonscales when the mountains rose. I doubt the tales are true, but it does seem odd sticking up from the middle of the prairie.
Boris leaned forward in the saddle of his black stallion. Tallen had learned the hard way that the beast snapped at any human other than the earl who tried to touch it. “We take the northernmost fork. I told Aginor to watch for our return through the Wolfsgate.”
Magus Britt put a heel to his sorrel mare. “Then let’s get there. I look forward to the duke’s hospitality tonight.”
Tallen spurred his old palfrey to follow. His father had purchased the horse just before he died, and Tallen had named him Stew after the animal threw him on his first ride. Because I threatened to make one of him if he ever did it again. Ever since, he’s been a fine horse. He patted Stew’s neck. “Might I have time to look for my brother?”
“Possibly.” Magus Britt kept his gaze upon the gate ahead. “We will remain in Gavanor only one night.”
Boris frowned at the Battlemage. “We will make time for you to find your brother. How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”
“Near five years, sir.”
The Bluecloak general nodded. “I will see that he is invited to what will almost certainly be a delightful banquet in our honor.”
“Now you’re talking, Milord,” Sergeant Hall added with a pat of his stomach and a spur of his thick-legged horse.
The road became more crowded with more travelers as they neared the Wolfsgate. Hundreds gathered at each entrance. Boris led his squad around the throng. Brawny stayed close to Sergeant Hall’s stirrup. Only a few annoyed stares followed the Bluecloaks. Most people nodded with respect. One or two old teamsters saluted.
When they reached the gate, the doors leaning back against the stone were fashioned of iron as thick as Tallen’s waist. Artisans had cast each door of the Wolfsgate in half the semblance of a snarling, lupine head. When closed, the complete face stared out at any approaching enemy with baleful eyes.
“They don’t even shut them at night any more,” Corporal Magrudy whispered to Tallen, who stared open-mouthed, “so continuous is the traffic.”
Earl Boris trotted his stallion over to meet the young lieutenant in emerald green questioning the entrants. “I need to see your captain. My men and I are here on urgent kingdom business.”
The lieutenant studied the stars on Boris’ collar before snapping a sharp salute. “If you will wait but a moment, my lord General.” He tapped a corporal. “Get the captain, on the double!”
The man dashed off. Only a few seconds passed before he returned with another green-cloaked man, this one wearing two silver stars. Tallen stared at him for only a moment, before he leaped from Stew’s back.
“Jaerd! It’s you!” He ran forward and embraced the man.
“By the Waters…Tallen?” An astonished look blanketed the soldier’s face, as he tried to salute through his brother’s hug. “What are you doing with…with a Bluecloak elite team?” Jaerd returned the hug with melting reticence. “By the Waters. It is you.”
Boris spoke before Tallen could answer his brother. “He travels with us because we required it. Anything further should not be discussed here.”
Tallen could not read his brother’s face, save for the shock. The expression lingered only a moment, and he stood before Tallen with the expressionless mask of an officer of Gavanor. He snapped another, tighter salute to Boris. “Yes, Milord. Allow me to fetch a horse, and I will escort the lot of you directly to the citadel.”
The group followed Jaerd under the shadow of the gates. It took time for Tallen’s eyesight to adjust to the darkness, but he could not hide the smile on his face at greeting his brother. A cool breeze chilled him within the shade under the wall. They passed beneath dozens of murder holes carved into the archway over his head. Tallen sensed the age and weight of the stone. Though he wanted to inspect every passing feature, the presence of his brother distracted much of his attention. A thousand questions bubbled up in his mind. Boris’ business is serious, much more serious than just retrieving me. Jaerd and I will have time to talk later.
Tallen blinked as they emerged from the darkness into the city. It spread out before him, covering the spearhead of land between the rivers and behind the wall. Hundreds of thousands had to live in that twisted warren of streets, houses, and shops. Gavanor was a city to remind him just how small a town he had come from. He snapped his jaw shut, but could not pull his eyes from the sight.
Jaerd waved at the throng directly in front of them. “This, of course, is Gatesmarket.”
Tallen had smelled it before they rode out into the light, hundreds upon hundreds of booths scattered in a winding maze. Some were spacious enough to sell horses, even camels, while others stood no wider than the man who hawked his goods. One section sported a variety of produce, some of which Tallen could not even recognize. The scents from the spice merchant stalls tickled Tallen’s nose with pungent and enticing sensations. Farther along, he saw stands run by dwarves, mostly for metal goods and stoneware. A fair-haired elf in a stand with thick curtains sold books. Near the center gate of the western wall, a street of weapon vendors hustled their wares.
“Which gate is that?”
“Lionsgate,” Jaerd answered to Tallen’s query. “And Bearsgate is on to the south.”
With a nod of reply, Tallen returned to studying the myriad goods available in the Gatesmarket. A vendor rushed out into the street, aiming directly for him. He carried a tray of steaming pies for a copper penny. Tallen handed the man a coin, before taking the pie and biting into it. It burst with chicken, leeks, and cheese. In his rush to taste it, he scalded the top of his mouth, leaving a painful strand of burned flesh to hang from his palate.
Magus Britt
waved his hand. “Come on, Tallen. We cannot dawdle.”
Tallen urged Stew after the others. Eventually the party waded its way through the swarm of people and their goods, emerging from the bustle of Gatesmarket into a sudden silence. Beyond a triple hedge of tall poplar trees spread an open meadow, with dozens of tended gardens, large statues, and sparkling fountains. Wide oaks and elms stood scattered about with groves of pine and spruce between.
Tallen’s eyes spread wide with wonder. “What is this place?”
“Statuary Park,” Jaerd replied with obvious pride. “The duke’s family put aside this area many years ago for the use of all the people of Gavanor. House Varlan pays to maintain it still.”
The ride through the park calmed Tallen’s spirit. The bucolic landscape brought peaceful thoughts to mind. Couples and families wandered the gravel pathways. Ducks glided on a small pond where a boy skipped stones.
They left the peace of the tended meadow and entered an area of tall townhouses, gated mansions, and upscale mercantile. Tallen noticed the signs of jewelers, counting houses, importers, and premium grocers. Trees lined some of the streets, and well-tended cobblestones lined them all.
“This is Bailey Square.” Jaerd waved his hand in an encompassing gesture. “The nice part of town.” His voice carried a hint of sarcasm. “Most nobles have town homes here, as do the richest merchants.”
Tallen’s sharp eyes caught the mansion guards glaring at Boris’ Bluecloaks as they rode past. A few of the compounds resembled small fortresses patrolled with many men.
Soon the road sloped up toward the outer wall of the citadel. On Tallen’s left, the Western Priory of the Temple of Balance climbed into the sky. The dual steeples curved toward one another, one of white marble, the other of black basalt. The imposing structure loomed above them, brooding over the brighter homes of the well-to-do Gavanorans.
“The prior is a foul man,” Jaerd whispered to Tallen from behind his leather gauntlet. “And he allows only one Water temple in this whole city.”
Tallen cocked a single eyebrow. “Why does the duke allow the Temple of Balance to set a limit on other temples?”
Jaerd moved to reply but stopped with a frowning glance at the others. He gave Tallen a significant expression.
I definitely remember that look. He might tell me more in private.
They climbed the lower slopes of Malador’s Stone, the paved road continuing right up to the outer gate. There, Jaerd acknowledged the officer on duty.
“Wolfsgate Captain” The lieutenant saluted. “Please escort your party through.”
Within, a wide plaza of cobblestone spread out. Tallen caught glimpse of armories, stables, and other buildings lining the walls. Jaerd led Tallen and the others up a flagged road that climbed the last shoulder of Malador’s Stone. A far more ornate gate towered overhead, with silver tipped cornices on several of the battlements. Above it, the emerald green banner of the duke with its gray stone wall snapped in the breeze. Adjacent fluttered the rampant silver dragon on blue of Gannon.
Another officer with two stars greeted Jaerd and immediately waved them inward. The captain saluted Boris when he passed. He gave Tallen only an inquisitive stare.
The citadel of Gavanor swept into the sky with grace. Built of grey granite and white marble, its central tower climbed upward over a hundred yards, while the attached spire rose another fifty. Tallen swayed in the saddle, staring at the pinnacle, its height spinning his perception.
A dozen men strode from the silver bound oak doors and trotted down the wide steps. The majority wore green cloaks like Jaerd’s, while a few others wore midnight blue or maroon. A sour faced man wore a black and scarlet check pattern. The noble in front of them held an air of command. Even though the dark gray hair on his scalp thinned, a great deal of life still danced in his eyes.
“Earl Boris.” The man turned to the Battlemage. “And Magus Britt. I am overjoyed to see you returned from your mission. We must speak in my private chambers immediately. My sons and liegemen will join us.”
Boris nodded to the others huddled behind the duke. Most of the men returned the earl’s gesture. “Thank you for greeting us, Duke Aginor. Our road has been a long one.” He gave a small nod toward Tallen. “And certain surprises delayed us.”
Tallen hung his head and dismounted without a sound. He held his horse’s reins until a groomsman from the duke’s stables took them with a bow. Tallen cringed without Stew to hide behind.
Jaerd waited back while the others entered the citadel. “Tallen, go with this gentleman.” He pointed to a servant wearing a green tabard embroidered with a gray wall. “He will take you to a room where you can clean up and wait for us.” Jaerd pointed at the man. “My brother will be staying with the Earl, so find him someplace nice.”
The servant nodded and gestured toward a side entry. “Right this way, sir.”
After passing through the edge of the main hall and up the spiral stairwell within the central tower, the servant opened a door carved with wheat sheaves. Tallen stepped inside to see an outer salon with four doors, painted in a deep forest green. Lavish divans and a table and chairs rested in comfortable positions. A wide window looked out onto the Stonebourne Fork and the River Road where it continued eastward on the far side of the water.
The servant waved his hand toward the nearest door. “You may use this bedchamber.” He pointed to another. “The bath is through there. Hot water is on its way. Towels are in your bedchamber.” The man bowed a final time and exited.
By the time Tallen entered the blue and white tiled bathroom wearing only a towel, steam rose from one of three large copper tubs. He unwound the towel, placing it and another folded one on a small table.
He cursed at the heat, first slipping one foot and then the other into the water. He dropped down to his neck with a yelp before the water sloshed over the sides. The soothing heat sank into his bones. Tallen held his head underwater for a moment, enjoying the womb-like embrace. He raised it when his lungs threatened to burst, and rested against a folded washcloth. His eyes closed.
The familiar darkness swirled about him. It coalesced into the galaxy of the Dreamrealm. He oriented himself with ease, but his heart beat in apprehension that the silvery spirit might return. Tallen found no other presence. But I cannot be certain of anything here.
The starpoints glittered around him, dancing sparkles in the night. One drew his spirit, the one he noticed before. It flickered a dusky white. Tallen reached out and touched it.
A ghostly city spread around him, filled with empty streets. A large temple with fiery sconces loomed, and a townhouse sprang up before of him. A girl with dark hair and an obscured face slipped into the building through the roof. Tallen followed.
Shadowy shapes moved about. The moon cast an eerie glow through high windows. The girl entered a room with a single desk and crawled beneath it. A huge lock closed a door in the floor. The girl struggled to open it. Tallen stretched to help her…
Awareness splashed into Tallen’s face with a dose of frigidity. He spluttered awake, snorting water from his sinus – his bath now lukewarm. Magus Britt held an empty cup and wore a smile.
“Sorry for the rude awakening, lad, but you aren’t allowed to Dream until we reach the Isle. I can barely sense the Psoul Aspect myself, yet I could tell you were there.” The mage waved his hands over Tallen’s face. A weird numbness sank into his brain. “That will keep you inside your own head. You will be able to perceive your power and tap into it; however, you will not be able to enter the Dreamrealm.”
Boris stepped up behind the mage, a towel wrapped around his waist. Tallen barely noticed the muscles ripple under his black hair. Long scars scattered about the earl’s torso drew his eyes instead. “Looks like the boy’s water has gone cold. Show him how Joz.”
Magus Britt waved his hand. “I am tired. I’d rather just do it the old fash
ioned way.”
Tallen lifted a pruned hand. “Please. I really wouldn’t want to put the magus out if he can’t—” Warmth sank into him again when Magus Britt lifted his hand. Tallen could almost see the trickle of Fire heating his bath. He nodded when the power stopped, just before it became uncomfortable. “Thank you, Magus.”
Magus Britt waved him off, but Boris winked. The earl and the mage then took to their own steaming tubs. This time, however, Tallen picked up the fresh razor laid out.
“Don’t dull that thing on your peach fuzz.” Boris laughed. “We both have to use it too.”
Most of the road at last washed away, Tallen wrapped himself in the soft towel. Boris worked the razor, and Magus Britt rested with a washcloth over his eyes
“The banquet begins at sunset.” Boris spoke in a pinched voice, holding in his lower lip for the blade. “Main hall. You’ll be at the head table with us…and your brother.”
Tallen’s heart leaped.
“I took the liberty of finding something for you wear,” Magus Britt mumbled, eyes still covered. “Something befitting an apprentice wizard.”
When Tallen entered the chamber, his good mood sank a fraction. A plain robe of rough woven cotton lay on the bed next to trousers and tunic of the same material. A wide leather belt lay next to it. It’s rather plain. At least everyone will know what it means.
The apprentice garb reassured him as he pulled it on – the cut felt right on his shoulders. Freshly polished boots stood by the door.
Servants must do everything for these people! It’s like living in a fine inn all the time! He laid upon the satin-covered bed and spread his arms wide, the smile on his face stretching to match.
Some minutes later, he woke with a startled snort. The sky had darkened to deep blue outside his window. After leaping into his boots, he trotted down the spiral stairwell of the citadel’s main tower. Tallen felt as new as his clothes. He beamed when he heard music drifting up from the party below.
A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) Page 12
