The Golden Vial

by Thomas Locke

  The medic fretted over Dally, but mostly in silence. Even so, Shona finally sent him away. When he departed, Shona said, “You repeated one other phrase.”

  “Over and over,” Meda said.

  Dally nodded. She remembered now. “The road. You must begin building it immediately. Connecting Three Valleys to Falmouth Port. The Earl of Oberon must start from his end. Today.”

  Meda protested, “This place is separated from Falmouth Port by a full month’s trek.”

  “Nonetheless, the concept makes perfect sense,” Edlyn said. “If the enemy is indeed seeking to divide us and defeat us parcel by parcel.”

  Shona said, “In that case, a road from our Falmouth stronghold to this deep inside the realm would cut through the heart of his plans.”

  Meda shook her head through all this. “You don’t know what you’re saying. To forge a road directly between here and Falmouth means battling against mountains and wilderness and a dozen principalities allied to Port Royal.”

  “Allied to them now,” Edlyn corrected. “Who knows where their allegiance would be if we were seen to offer a genuine defense.”

  Dally repeated, “The work must be started. Immediately.”

  Meda demanded, “But why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Enough,” Shona said. “We have the message. We must discuss this with the Oberon council.”

  “And the Elves,” Edlyn added. “We will need their permission. And their help, since it will cut through their forests.”

  Shona stared at the dimming light beyond the western wall and murmured, “I should be with Hyam.”

  “No, my lady,” Dally replied. “You should not.”

  Edlyn asked, “Was that another of your impressions?”

  “Stronger than that,” Dally said. “Yes, it was.”

  When Shona continued to stare at what only she could see, Edlyn told the young queen, “This is no doubt the purpose behind the attacks on Hyam. Weaken our forces from the center.”

  Shona’s only response was to wipe her face with trembling hands.

  Edlyn reached out and draped an arm around the young queen’s shoulders.

  They stood there in silence until Connell returned and said, “We are ready to depart.”

  31

  They left the infirmary just as the sun touched the treetops. Dally was carried upon a cushioned pallet by four troopers. She disliked intensely how Shona’s company watched and worried as she passed. Edlyn and Meda accompanied her. Nabu and the unnamed wolfhound trotted to either side of her stretcher.

  Dally wasn’t sure how to react as work halted and most faces turned her way. She tried to tell herself that they cared for her, that she was one of them. But her past experiences with being the center of attention were harsh and painful. All she said was, “I saw myself doing this alone.”

  “You saw yourself alone at the Ashanta boundary stones,” Edlyn corrected.

  “Mistress . . .”

  “That is what you said. Correct?”

  Dally sighed.

  “Fine. Alone you shall be. There.”

  “But—”

  “Let’s make this perfectly clear,” Meda said. “You are not going to isolate yourself for however long this requires.”

  “The enemy is still out there,” Edlyn said.

  “The Ashanta must see me as alone and vulnerable,” Dally protested. “That much was clear.”

  “And so you shall be.” Connell pointed to where Alembord listened as Shona and the Elven queen discussed something with grave intent. “Alembord has erected the guards’ tent by the forest. Your own is on the other side of the headland.”

  “No guards,” Dally pleaded. “No soldiers, no blades—”

  “I will be with you, but on my own,” Connell replied. “Standing well back. Armed only with my wand.”

  Further protest was halted as they approached the portal. The Elven queen broke away from her discussion with Shona and walked over. “How are you?”

  Dally struggled to rise. “Fine, Majesty.”

  “Stay where you are. And treat me as an ally. I ask again, how are you?”

  “I cannot find the energy to stand. Even my thoughts feel heavy. I feel as though despair is an enemy just waiting to attack.” Dally gestured toward an invisible line, beyond which awaited the portal’s force. “And I dread another encounter with whatever powers will assail me.”

  Shona said, “Our healers have done what they can. Which is to make her comfortable and little else.”

  Ainya reached up and allowed her fingertips to drift about the air next to her head. The crown appeared. “Show me your wand. No, keep hold of the hilt.”

  The Elven queen bent down and breathed upon the gemstone. It burst into a brilliant green fire. She began shaping the light so that it covered both Dally and her pallet. The entire world became viewed through a gemlike veil. Every living element, all the people and the animals and the smallest blade of grass, now carried the same emerald glow.

  Ainya straightened. “The naming of a regent’s spouse carries with it a series of responsibilities. One of them is the task of serving as the ruler’s last line of defense. I want to see if this might shield you from yet another experience as we travel.”

  Dally didn’t know what to say except, “Thank you, Majesty.”

  Ainya remained where she was, gazing down at Dally, the jewel at the center of her crown burning with a fierce light. “You will carry a message from me to the Ashanta?”

  “Of course, Majesty.”

  “Tell them of the name you have bestowed upon your beautiful dog, and how this came to you. Then you shall pass on these words from me personally. Tell them that the past is now.”

  Dally found no shame in the tears that came unbidden to her eyes. “The past is now,” she repeated.

  “Tell the Ashanta that we shall endeavor to hold the field. Just as we did a thousand years ago. But we ask that they not show the same reluctance to join with us. The danger is too great. Together we shall vanquish the foes. Divided . . .”

  Dally wiped her eyes and said once more, “The past is now.”

  “Now go.” Ainya stepped back. “And may you succeed in your quest. For all our sakes.”

  32

  Thankfully there was no hint of being assaulted yet again by the Elven force as they carried Dally along the emerald lane. They emerged on the headlands to discover the camp prepared just as Meda had described. The two tents were set as far apart as the headlands allowed. The larger one was backed up close to the forest boundary. Goods and weapons were stacked between the tents and the rest of the rocky pasture. The headlands’ central rise formed a spine that ran from the forest to where the ridge descended to the river below. When the troopers set Dally’s pallet down by the smaller tent, erected close to the Ashanta boundary stones, she could see nothing of the others.

  The boundary stones marched down the steep slope and along the border of a broad meadow. The river was shallow enough for the rocky bottom to glisten in the fading light. The trail leading back to the Three Valleys communities was merely a dark line that ran along the river’s nearside bank. To Dally’s left, beyond the stones, the headlands tumbled down to fashion the enclave within which the Ashanta city stood.

  By nightfall Dally had regained enough strength to take a few tottering steps around the camp. But she did not assist in making dinner, for Connell would not allow it. She felt extremely uncomfortable having this handsome wizard serve her. And yet his presence carried a distinct solace. The guards came over long enough to help Connell fashion a fire pit and ring it with smooth cooking stones. They returned later with pots of stew and tea.

  When Connell and Dally were alone again, he spoke for the first time since their arrival. “Your formal birth name offers a distinct curiosity.”

  “If it is indeed Dahlrin,” she said.

  “Is Dally a common name among the ladies of Three Valleys?”

  “I am the only one so na
med, as far as I know.”

  “There you are.” He spooned a bowlful of stew and passed it over. “You have no record of your family’s heritage?”

  “There might have been. But everything was lost in the fire that cost me my family.” Dally scraped her bowl clean. “This is excellent stew . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know how I should address you.”

  “Connell will do just fine. Certainly not ‘master mage’ or any such nonsense.” Connell refilled her bowl. “Unless, of course, you’re one of my acolytes and you’ve misbehaved. Then you can call me whatever you wish, but it will not help you any.”

  Dally accepted her refilled bowl. “Your students must love you.”

  “I don’t see why. I’m quite useless as a teacher. I ask far more than I reveal. I make the most horrific errors in spell-casting. And I flee from the first hint of danger.”

  “I don’t believe any of that.” Dally set down her bowl. “Not for an instant.”

  “Eye of the tiger, heart of the mouse, that’s me.” He gestured toward her meal. “You won’t finish that?”

  “I am as full as I have been in quite some time,” she replied. “And as content.”

  Connell poured her a mug of tea, then settled into his camp chair. In a companionable silence they watched the moon rise. Dally’s heart sang at the thought of spending days in this remarkable man’s company. And yet there was the lingering suspicion that he would prefer to be elsewhere. She stole the occasional glance across the fire. His face looked carved from some brooding golden stone.

  She asked softly, “Why are you really here?”

  He responded so quickly, Dally suspected he had waited all this time for just that question. “It is as I said before. The Mistress wishes for you to study with me. We will soon face the true enemy. Or so Meda thinks, and I agree.”

  She marveled at her ability to calmly respond. Which was a lie, of course. Her heart hammered at the prospect of spending long hours together. “The Milantian mage.”

  “Possibly more than one. Hyam and his company battled four wizards in Alyss. And before that they met with Milantian witches in a desert palace from beyond time as we humans count. Shona was there for both encounters—you should ask her about it.” Connell glared at the fire. “One of those in Alyss was the witch who stole Joelle’s breath. Their tactics were . . .”

  “Terrifying,” she guessed.

  “Unexpected at every turn,” he replied. “And yes. Very frightening as well.”

  “So you are to be my teacher,” Dally said.

  “Only if you like.”

  “Of course I like. But . . .”

  “You wonder why the former head mage of the Emporis castle would stoop to teach one acolyte, and isolate myself here on the edge of a farming valley I only know of because Hyam was born here.” He smiled at her across the fire. “The first reason is, your abilities are an astonishment. No human wizard in centuries has possessed the gift of far-seeing. Not to mention the blast you managed with the first use of your wand.”

  Dally had no idea how to respond.

  Connell nodded, as though approving of her silence. “And then there is the second reason. You recall my mention of a certain Master Trace?”

  “He leads the wizards of Falmouth.”

  “Very good. You listen. Unlike the vast majority of my students. Trace was the former Master of the Havering Long Hall and was the first to offer Hyam fealty. He urged Bayard, the Oberon earl, to send me to Emporis. I served there for a time as master mage, though my keep did not contain an orb of its own. Now I have been replaced by a certain young man who has proven to be a true adept. Fareed is also an excellent teacher. What is more, he comes from the desert people and so is a strong link to these tribes.”

  Dally translated that as, “You trained this young man as your replacement.”

  “Yes, well, whatever. And then Hyam was felled by this mystery illness, and we received the first rumors that the enemy was planning an assault on the Three Valleys. I don’t suppose you’ve received an impression about why your home region was targeted?”

  “No.” Her breathing rasped in her throat. “Every time I even think in that direction, I am met by dread and the sense that he’s out there, hunting me.”

  “Never mind. Turn away from that.” His voice had sharpened enough to draw her back to the night and the fire. “Are you all right?”

  Dally waited while her heart settled back into her ribs. “Yes.”

  “Good. I think . . .” Something turned him around. “We have company.”

  33

  Connell rose from his seat and retreated back over the headland. When he reached the central rocky spine, he unsheathed his wand and spoke a word. Instantly the high ground was illuminated by a magical fire that bathed Dally with its warmth.

  Bryna halted just inside the chest-high boundary stones, surveyed Dally’s pallet, and asked, “You were wounded in the battle?”

  “After,” Dally replied. “When I received the next set of images.”

  “Will you tell me about them?”

  “Yes,” Dally said. “I will tell you everything.”

  Bryna carried a three-legged milking stool. As Dally described her images and how they assaulted her, Bryna seated herself. And listened in utter stillness. When Dally went quiet, Bryna said, “Your presence here tonight has split the Ashanta. It has brought the division among my people out into the open. And by doing so it has enraged some of our most powerful elders.”

  Dally did not reply.

  “You recall what I said about the elders who oppose us and their tactics?”

  “Each day they can delay your involvement is counted as a victory,” Dally said. “I despise them.”

  “I do not have that luxury,” Bryna replied. “But you are correct. For my opponents within the Ashanta community, each day we remain isolated and uninvolved in your battle—”

  “It is not just our battle,” Dally countered. “It is everyone’s.”

  Bryna gave that a moment’s silence, then continued, “They can pretend the crisis will remain beyond our borders. For one more day.”

  Dally did not know what she might say that would change anything, so she remained silent. Connell’s light kept the night and the gathering chill at bay. What was more, she felt his presence as a soothing balm.

  There was nothing to be gained by arguing with the striking young woman. Dally could not call her beautiful, though she was certainly pleasant to look at. Even so, her porcelain skin was stretched a little too tight, her features too stark, her eyes too blue. Everything about her was honed to its vital essence by the responsibilities she carried.

  Bryna went on, “I have been expressly ordered not to come out and speak with you. And you have been forbidden from ever setting foot upon Ashanta soil.”

  “And yet you are here,” Dally said.

  “Because half of the Assembly wants us to go to the aid of our allies. Now. Before the next battle.” Bryna’s gesture took in the border, the headlands, the night. “Had you stepped inside, it would have been treated as an invasion. Your position here on the headlands, beyond our borders, has utterly flummoxed the opposition.”

  “I wish we could have met at a different time,” Dally said.

  “As do I.”

  “There is so much I want to ask you. So much I want to learn.”

  “And yet we must deal with the world as it is,” Bryna said. “What is it you want?”

  “I must speak with a dragon,” Dally said. “This was the strongest image I have ever received. With it came two further instructions. I was not to reveal this until you and I met. No one among Shona’s company is aware of this requirement.”

  If Bryna found this odd, she gave no sign. “And the second instruction?”

  “We must first wake up a renegade Elf,” Dally replied. “Hyam’s life depends upon it. And mine.”

  34

  Bryna’s instructions on how they should proceed were not so much haphazard
as incomplete. “You are asking me to condense five years of lessons into one midnight session.”

  “Only because we must,” Dally said. She eased herself onto the pallet, glad for the chance to lie back down. Talking had never required so much energy. And her fear of what was to come had never been greater than now.

  Bryna studied Dally in the glow of Connell’s wand. What she saw must have caused her very real concern. “Why now? Why tonight?”

  “Because if we don’t,” Dally replied, “Hyam will die.”

  “When, tonight?”

  “No. I know because I asked. But very soon. That much was clear. Hyam’s end may come at any time.”

  “And if we rush this, there is a very real chance that you might die!”

  Connell called from his perch on the ridge, “Don’t take such risks, Dally. Not now, not ever.”

  Bryna sighed. “He might as well bring his light in closer.”

  Dally called, “Connell, please join us.”

  Connell walked over, saying, “She’s right, you know. Give yourself time to heal and regain your strength.”

  “And if Hyam dies, what then? Every image I saw without him led to defeat.”

  Connell bowed to Bryna, then settled into his camp chair. “I still say you should wait. Rest. Prepare.”

  Dally did not want to argue further. The temptation to give in was too great. The prospect of what was about to happen filled her with a dread so powerful she felt nauseous. So she asked Bryna, “What do I do?”

  Bryna sighed again. “Close your eyes. Release yourself from your physical form. I will take us to your chosen destination. But before you do so, tell me again precisely where we are going.”

  “First we need a translator.” Dally had no idea if she could even perform the task Bryna intended. Always before it had simply happened at the edge of wakefulness. All she could hope was that her weakness and fatigue might make it possible to do now, at this opposite side of sleep. “A desert trader whose heritage includes princely Elven blood was shown to me. His name is Jaffar.”