High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series

by Terry Mancour

  How I had armed each of them with captured irionite as we fought a losing battle against the besieging goblin legions; how we had discovered the treachery of Sire Koucey’s ancestors and the existence of a sacred molopor under the castle; how Gurkarl, a prisoner of war, became the first gurvan to see the sacred cavern; how I had used the molopor and the irionite to rescue the Bovali peasants, and how I was rescued in turn from the lifeless intelligence behind the goblins’ invasion by the Aronin of Angriel’s dying act.

  How I had convinced the Dukes of Castal and Alshar to combine their forces under my command and we stopped a massive gurvani invasion campaign at Timberwatch. How we then lost most of northern Gilmora to a second advance into the heart of the Duchies, where Duke Rard had used the crises as pretext to make himself King Rard. And how we – with Alka Alon assistance – faced down a goblin army and a dragon at Cambrian Castle, and how we defeated them both.

  I wasn’t going to talk about snowstone, yet. That was my carrot. I wanted them to appreciate the stick. I hadn’t just found a witchstone on the ground, I had been fighting a war with them.

  Of course, they had questions of their own.

  “Master Minalan,” the steely-voiced Alkan Lord Letharan said, his eyes boring holes in my soul. “You claim you did nothing to stir the gurvani of the Mindens—”

  “Not unless they found curing warts and finding lost cows offensive. I was a simple spellmonger in the hamlet of Minden’s Hall, my lords. We were minding our own business when the attacks came. And when they did, they came with irionite.”

  “Which you seemed to have no trouble acquiring,” Lord Aeratas observed, coolly. Once you got over the novelty of the higher-pitched voices, their individual personalities started to come through. Lord Aeratas clearly had a low opinion of humanity.

  “Well, the gurvani may have expected a spellmonger, but they got a retired warmagi. I improvised, and I got lucky, that first time. After that I consulted the Aronin of Angriel,” I reminded him. “He is the one who cleansed my original stone.”

  “An oversight, if my opinion was to be known,” Aeratas, the lord of the lake city Anthatiel said. “Such tools in the hands of humani—”

  “The gurvani have apparently learned the secret of its creation,” Lady Micrethiel observed. “It is not as if they raided your treasuries for it. The gurvani have no better hope of controlling such forces than the humani, but they invited such disaster to themselves.”

  “I cannot say which is the worse perversion,” the lord of Anthatiel said, disgustedly. “The gurvani making a kulnuara or this mage!”

  “The worse perversion,” I interrupted, “is the undead gurvani shaman whose head lies in the heart of an entire sphere of irionite . . . and at the heart of a dark and malignant empire that imperils us all.”

  “We are aware of the danger the Abomination poses,” said Lord Letharan, dryly. “But a few mountain vales and foothill farms hardly constitutes an empire. The gurvani have merely made a kingdom in mockery of their human foes.” He sounded almost proud about that. “Let them battle it out until they tire of slaying each other.”

  “This is no mere uprising,” I corrected. “They aren’t fighting with little iron maces, my lords. You don’t arm a thousand shamans with irionite and raise the dead to lead them, successfully attack and control a molopar and conjure up some dragons to go to war over domains like gentlemen. Shereul means to slay us all, humani and Alon alike. He has said as much.”

  “He has raised an army, such as it is,” admitted Letharan. “And his priests are surprisingly effective, given their lack of skill with song. But he has taken a sparsely peopled province, no more. He has scattered a few modest refuges. The loss of Angriel was dear, and we yet seek for the lost heir of that line, Ameras, but even that is of small concern.”

  “Shereul did not stop with his invasion of the Wilderlands. He has raided a thickly-peopled province in force,” I countered, “and crippled the agricultural heart of the Duch—the Kingdom. He is marshalling his forces for an even more ambitious attack.”

  “Then see to your defense – but let it not concern us,” the haughty Alka lord replied. “We were not the ones who stirred up the feral gurvani and drove them to such lengths. If they seek your destruction, then I counsel you to defend yourselves.”

  “That’s what we’re doing, Lord Aeratas,” I assured him. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need the help – or that you aren’t threatened yourselves. You have already heard about the pillage of your refuges in the Alshari wilderness. How long until the Dead God’s legions are at your gates, not ours?”

  “Until the gurvani learn how to swim I would not vouchsafe their chances,” the lord of fabled lake city of rainbows said, amused. “We understand how troublesome this war is for you, Master Minalan, but the feral gurvani fanatics have done very little, save take vengeance on your folk.”

  “And yours,” I reminded him again. “They are no lovers of the Tree Folk . . . some misunderstandings of your own history, from what I understand,” I said, trying to be respectful and forceful at the same time. It’s harder than it sounds.

  But I felt it was important to remind the arrogant Alkan lord that the ‘feral’ gurvani were the descendants of the nocturnal servile class that had revolted and freed themselves from the Alka Alon, thousands of years ago. And as we were learning, the gurvani held a grudge.

  “Regardless of how we arrived at this moment, we are here,” Master Haruthel conceded. “The gurvani resurrected a powerful shaman from their history, using irionite. None could have guessed they would discover the secret to its making. They have such limited connection to magic, as we all know. Worse than the humani.”

  “And then they armed their magical class with it,” reminded Lady Ladas, speaking for the first time. “That much power in the hands of former drudges is unthinkable. As bad as seeing it in the fingers of the humani.”

  “With the power of the Dead God’s thought behind them,” I pointed out, “it’s a damn sight worse than anything the Archmagi ever did.”

  “Which is why this is Abomination,” agreed Haruthel. “As has been said, the danger of such an unpredictable force in our realm has not been unnoticed. We are settling refugees from the Abomination’s attacks, now. Some refuges are being evacuated, as a precaution. But it is hoped by this council than the threat can be contained.”

  “Contained?” I asked in disbelief.

  “For now,” agreed Haruthel. “Until we can give it proper consideration.”

  “How can you contain unrestrained, unsleeping hatred?” I demanded, despite myself. “A hatred so great it casts a shadow on your realm in this world and the Otherworld?”

  “It is powerful. It is not unmanageable,” said Lord Letharan. He sounded almost offended.

  “Tell that to the Aronin of Angriel. As powerful as he was, he and his court were unable to do much at all in the face of the Abomination,” I reminded them.

  “A brave and brash act of defiance, from one mighty enough to contemplate the meaning of his own sacrifice. The issue is containment,” repeated our host, unfazed. “For the last year, the Abomination has contented itself to remain in its stronghold, sending out forces in its stead. It is possible that it has no higher ambition at the moment than to study the molopor. Left unmolested, the Abomination could take years before it masters the intricacies of the molopor.”

  “And the council thinks allowing that is wise?” I asked, skeptically.

  “As wise as allowing you to keep the irionite which you have acquired,” said Letharan. “A necessary evil for a dark time. And one that can be remedied later.” There was no mistaking the menace in his voice. That pissed me off. As if he had a right to determine whether I was able to use the stuff.

  “I won that irionite in battle,” I pointed out. “I appreciate the enhancements the Alka Alon gave it, but the irionite is mine. And I will need it, since it seems I’m the only one inclined to fight the Dead God.”

  “
Ah, but will you win?” asked our host, genuinely intrigued by the question. “Imperial magic, however potent, against the unsleeping hatred, as you put it, of a severed head?”

  “I never said the task was going to be easy,” I replied, far more calmly than I felt, “just that it needed to be done. And if the tools at hand are inadequate, I will secure better.”

  “You have to admit, he has proven proficient at that,” chuckled Lady Micrethiel. “The boldness and ingenuity of Master Minalan is well known. His need seems to outpace the craft of our greatest masters.”

  “Yes, this . . . snowstone,” Lord Aeratas said, eyeing me carefully. “Remarkable. You have irionite less than two years and you manage to evoke a substance unimagined by the Alka Alon in ten thousand years. Just how did one such as you manage such a feat?” There was an accusing tone to his voice.

  “That really nears the realm of craft secrets, my lord,” I said, my eyes shifting to each of them in turn. “The truth is, I do not know – precisely. It was a serendipitous accident, but one that might be repeated, if enough study is given to it. Unfortunately, I lack the time, considering my present duties. But I do, indeed, happen to control a mountain or two of snowstone.”

  “And you think that gives you permission to dictate to this council?” asked Lord Letharan, sharply.

  “No, my lord. But perhaps that elevates my standing to this council in a way neither my race nor my profession warrant.”

  “Snowstone has intrigued many of us,” agreed our host. “The samples you sent were received with wonder and curiosity. Many uses for them have been found already. Our research promises yet more secrets await to be discovered. But . . . will you not tell us how you made it?”

  “It was the by-product of some . . . creative magic,” I demurred. “A spell I improvised to secure the safe birth of my son. Again, should we have the time and resources, I would love to explore the topic – I find it more than a little interesting, from a thaumaturgical perspective. But there is the matter of the genocidal goblin head . . .”

  “We are investigating that,” assured Lord Letharan. “If the Abomination has a weakness, it will be found. For now it and its people occupy but a small province in the mountains—”

  “And a third of Gilmora,” I reminded him. “Far from contained, Shereul’s forces roam virtually unchecked. And those forces now include dragons.” That got their attention. They knew that, of course, but the Alka Alon were well aware of the destructive powers of the saurian killers. They, themselves, had suffered dragonfire in past ages.

  “Still, the incursion is an inconvenience, not a tragedy,” Lady Ladas insisted. “Dragons in particular are uncooperative, difficult to use in war. His forces are not insignificant, but they are crude. Well within your new Kingdom’s ability to meet.”

  I had my doubts about that, but I kept my mouth shut. If King Rard did put every knight in the field, I’m certain we could overwhelm the gurvani legions. But at what cost? A million widows and orphans left behind? Social upheaval never before seen in the Duchies? Not to mention the matter of a lack of political will. Rard was having a hard enough time extending his authority inside the kingdom, much less projecting it out. He was not in a position to lead that kind of initiative.

  “It would go better if we had allies,” I reiterated. “The weapons you gave us were decisive in the Battle of Cambrian. But that was a skirmish, compared to what lies ahead. Our reports say that Shereul is emptying his dark valley and preparing a mighty campaign. His minions loot northern Gilmora, capturing its people for sacrifice or slavery, preparing the region as a staging ground to attack the heart of the Kingdom. He is building depots and garrisoning captured castles all along the Timber and Cotton Roads. Every High Mage we can field against that invasion is a victory. You want snowstone, I want irionite.” It was a breach of etiquette to bring up such matters. But I wanted to inspire a particular reaction, and I was successful.

  “We did not call you hear to barter like Tal Alon wives in a market!” said Lady Micrethiel, scandalized.

  “I know, you Tree Folk don’t do things that way,” I soothed. “But I have little time, and a great task ahead. For good or ill the gods have seen fit to gift me with this resource, and I will use it as I can. And since I have the only snowstone mine on Callidore, if you want it you have to talk to me. But,” I said, as I saw several of them begin to get upset with me, “I think I can sweeten the deal. Snowstone was not the only gift I was given on that night.”

  Pentandra, send in Guri with the chest, I ordered, mind-to-mind.

  A moment later the Karshak came in bearing a small redwood chest made especially for the task. That was the source of Dara’s discomfort. The grinning Karshak stonesinger opened it with exaggerated ceremony, revealing five soft silk bags. I took one and handed it to each of the lords.

  “A small gift, from the Magelord of Sevendor,” I said as I passed them out. “Five Waystones. Each set within a flower of silver. These are Apophylyte crystals hidden within my mountain and enchanted in the same fashion as the snowstone. They are jewels of especial power, as they reduce the magical resistance in their vicinity to nothing. But more importantly, Master Guri assures me that each of them is essentially a portable waypoint,” I explained as they opened their presents. “Allowing the songspell of transport to work . . . anywhere. That is a wonder I have never read of in all of the Alka Alon epics. And these are but a few of the many unique gems Master Guri has discovered within my holding.”

  “This . . . this is a noble gift!” Lord Aeratas declared, his alien eyes twinkling with excitement as he examined his jewel. “And you say there are others . . . ?”

  “A goodly supply,” I agreed. “These are but the finest specimens. Nor are they the only type of gem to be arcanely transformed. Clear quartz, milky quartz, all manner of crystals were changed by the spell into truly unique stones. We have only begun studying them and determining their properties, but they continue to amaze. Our initial thaumaturgical surveys are promising. We may have stones that can bend time or space. Gems that can transform and twist the nature of reality. Jewels that possess unique powers, some no doubt too subtle for my limited lore. But my mountain of snowstone has a lot to offer.”

  “This . . . alters the situation,” Lord Letharan admitted, reluctantly. “Truly these are magnificent artifacts. Master Guri, you support Master Minalan’s claims?”

  “He vastly understates the matter,” agreed Guri. “There are pockets we have yet to explore, but the trove recovered so far is . . . well, it had my granddad in tears,” he said, solemnly. “When he sang the mountain, it nearly broke him, so moved was he.”

  “Still, we are not merchants,” Lady Ladas said, sternly.

  “Nor do I ask you to be,” I agreed, respectfully. “But we are in a difficult place, and we fight a foe we know little about, one who out-matches us. And we do it with scavenged irionite. If nothing else, help us arm our warmagi to slow the Dead God’s advance. If you have found my gifts at all worthy, consider doing a kindness to us in return, as is proper among both our peoples.”

  “Do you fully understand what you ask?” asked Lady Ladas, looking up from her shiny new jewelry. “The last time irionite was prevalent in humani society, you oppressed each other with it until you forced yourselves to give it up.”

  “I wish I could say your folk have matured since then,” added Lord Letharan, distastefully, “but in truth you have grown more barbarous over time, not less.”

  “You are not wrong. The old Magocracy was a high point in human civilization. And if we did not face the threat we do, I would not ask. Already I am tasked with the regulation of the high magi, and I find it difficult and perplexing. Every High Mage is a potential disaster I am sworn to protect my people from. Adding more for me to oversee is not a pleasant idea.” I thought of my marble board, back in Sevendor. I was already overwhelmed by the task – why was I adding more?

  “Yet we have no choice but to accept the burden and conten
d with the crisis as they come, because over our horizon lies the Shadow. And if we do not have the weapons to fight it, we are lost anyway. Unless you folk can step in and end the threat,” I added hopefully.

  If anyone on Callidore could do it, it was the Alka Alon. They were the masters of magic. Yet none of them looked particularly optimistic at the idea.

  “You . . . could step in and end the threat, couldn’t you?” I asked, when no one answered me.

  “It would be difficult,” agreed Lord Letharan, “but not impossible. At least in theory. That was one reason why we assembled this council, to assess the threat. We understand the danger better than you do. But we are dealing with something new in our experience. There have been other Abominations . . . but none have raised armies. None have captured a molopar of high degree. And none have operated with the level of intelligence this gurvan has shown. “

  “The appearance of snowstone in such a timely manner, especially with your personal involvement, suggests other forces are at work,” added Lord Haruthel. “The nature of the substance suggests the involvement of the divine. Human gods have a history of entangling themselves in the strands of fate on Callidore. With two such unpredictable forces at play, it is wise to proceed cautiously.”

  “Proceed cautiously . . . faster,” I urged. “I’m not asking for legions of Alka Alon to march by our side. I’m just asking for a few pebbles to help us slow him down while you are deliberating. And more advice and technical assistance, so that we can mount a credible defense.”

  “Have we not provided you an adequate embassy?”

  “It’s a start,” I agreed. “Lady Ithalia and the others have been invaluable. We could not have won the Battle of Cambrian without their assistance. But we need more than that. I know that snowstone presents an alluring possibility for research. I know that there are those among your folk who favor more direct involvement in the war. I know that your people have suffered at the hands of the gurvani. And I know that you have Callidore’s best interests in mind. All I ask is that while you cautiously investigate the situation, you allow us the opportunity to defend ourselves.”