Elzor locked eyes with his general. “Do it.”
“Yes, my liege.” Langon bowed and strode out of the room.
Elzaria remained still. “Any further commands for me, brother?”
Elzor regarded his sister, noting for the first time how haggard she looked. Not at all surprising. She'd had a productive day.
After dispatching the King's royal messengers, she joined the Elzorath on their final march to the city. She let the power within her grow to a level she never had before, releasing a blanket of blue death that killed or incapacitated half the Agrusian army on their initial charge. The second attack met with similar casualties, after which Elzaria collapsed from the strain. The Elzorath then took the fight to the remaining soldiers, claiming an easy victory.
“No, dear sister, you go rest. The queen's bedchamber is all yours. Replenish your strength, and I'll send a servant around with the best meal our new castle has to offer.”
Elzaria gave a cold, chilly smile. “You spoil me.”
“Well, if I don't, who will?” Elzor strode forward, taking her hand and kissing it in an uncharacteristic display of chivalry.
Elzaria smiled but didn't respond. She retracted her hand from Elzor's grasp, unsheathed a thick-bladed knife she had strapped to the back of her belt and flung it all the way across the throne room. It struck the portrait of the Queen right between the eyes.
Elzor watched in amusement as the knife continued to vibrate, as if excited to have hit its target so perfectly. He turned back around just in time to see his sister's back as she swept out of the room.
With a swoosh of his stolen cloak, he made his way back to the balcony and placed his hands on the balustrade. The sounds of fighting had all but died out, and the city of Talcris was eerily silent.
He was about to head back inside when something curious caught his gaze. Up in the sky, far in the distance, a trail of light shot like an arrow toward the horizon.
He cocked his head, keeping his keen eyesight focused on the streak until it disappeared from view. Such sightings were rare on Elystra, but not unheard of. Whatever strange phenomena occurred in the Above didn't concern him. If any entity, god or mortal, was foolish enough to stand in his way, he would sweep them aside as easily as he had Morix's army.
Elzor drew in a deep breath as he reveled in his victory. He was master of this domain.
And many more domains would soon follow.
Chapter Seven
D eep in the heart of Mount Calabur, Mizar, High Mage of Darad, stood transfixed, his mouth opened in a paroxysm of pain.
A surge of energy, far more intense than any he'd ever experienced, pounded through him as image after image flittered across his mind's eye. The stuff of nightmares, overlapping each other in a cacophony of chaos: flashes of intense light, entire villages in flames, streets littered with the blackened, charred bodies of men, women and children. Mizar tried with all his might to block out the horrific images, but failed.
As the comfort of oblivion threatened to overwhelm him, the scene of slaughter disappeared, and another, much different image took its place. With the last of his flagging mental strength, Mizar concentrated on this latest image.
Three women stood on a darkened, unknown landscape, still as statues, while a fierce battle waged around them. Each one radiated raw power; the kind of power, he noted with stupefaction, that could only have come from Arantha. Three Wielders, each one clothed by an aura that pulsed with the energy they channeled.
Mizar tried to break through the whirling torrents in his mind, attempting to discern the faces of these three women, but as he teetered on the brink of clarity, another blast of energy coursed through his body. The image disintegrated, and blackness overtook him.
Released from Arantha's hold, Mizar's body crumpled to the ground.
* * *
“Master! Master, wake up!”
Mizar's eyes fluttered open, and he became aware that he was lying, face-down, on the stony ground. With a groan, he propped himself up on his elbows, trying to will the strength back into his limbs. It felt as if someone had stuck a white-hot poker through his brain. Even the small movement of lifting his head caused a searing flash of pain to rip through it. It was all he could do not to let unconsciousness overwhelm him again, as it had a few … minutes ago? Hours?
How much time has passed? How long have I lain here, dead to the world?
He cast a sidelong glance to the entrance of the Crystal Cavern, the hollow heart of Mount Calabur, where he had unceremoniously collapsed. He remembered crying out in agony. It obviously wasn't loud enough to alert the guards who prevented anyone from entering the chamber when Mizar consulted Arantha.
Inch by painful inch, he struggled into a sitting position, brushing dust and small pebbles from his clothes and his grayish-brown beard, and retrieving his black cloth skull-cap from the ground. He had fallen where he normally stood, on the Nexus of Arantha. Thousands of crystals, none larger than one of his fingernails, dotted an almost geometrical pattern over the walls and ceiling. Over the course of the five and a half decades of his life, he'd had hundreds of visions, but none had given him the sense of foreboding—-or the overwhelmingly intense pain—-he had just experienced.
He turned the other way and saw, kneeling at his side, a gangly young man dressed in a loose beige tunic. “Master! Oh, thank Arantha!” he exclaimed, relief spreading over his face. “I feared you were dead!”
Mizar clapped his palms over his ears. “Please, Sen, not so loud.”
“I'm sorry, Master,” Sen said, at a much more reasonable volume. “I'm just … thankful you're alive. You were barely breathing.”
Little by little, Mizar's sight returned to normal. His brown, deep-set eyes scanned the Cavern. All looked exactly as it had before his ordeal. “I'm all right, Sen. Thank you for your concern.”
“Can you stand?”
Mizar nodded, and with Sen's help, he was able to climb to his feet and make his way to a long wooden bench that ran along the cave's near wall. Sitting down, he glanced up at his apprentice, who continued to stare at him with concern.
Sen was tall and rail-thin, with medium-length black hair, sea blue eyes, high cheekbones and a wide mouth. Although often awkward and clumsy, he was a good, hard-working lad, and Mizar had grown rather fond of him over the previous two years. He reminded Mizar so much of himself. They were both sixteen when they discovered they could Wield. Unfortunately, after two years of training, it became clear Sen possessed only healing abilities and nothing else. Mizar, with his powers of divination and control of the elements—-air, water, fire and earth—-was High Mage, only the fourth in the history of Darad, which went back almost a thousand years.
A wave of dizziness shot through Mizar, and he would have toppled over had Sen not grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him back into an upright position. “What happened, Master?” Sen asked.
Mizar placed his thumbs and forefingers against his temples, trying to calm his turbulent thoughts. Within moments, the pain receded, but the lightheadedness remained. “I–I don't know. That's never happened before.” He looked at his apprentice again, his forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “The guards just let you in?”
Sen's cheeks flushed, and he averted his eyes. “Forgive me, Master. When you didn't show up for my lesson, I assumed you had other business to attend to. I waited for you in the dining hall for midday meal, but when you didn't show up there either, I asked around, and no one had seen you since you entered the Cavern, so I figured you must still be here.” He grimaced. “The guards made me wait two more hours before I could convince them something must be wrong.”
“So I've been lying here unconscious for … eight hours?”
“I think so.”
Mizar harrumphed. “I'm going to have to ask His Majesty to instruct his guards to be more accommodating in the future, just in case this happens again.” He closed his eyes, massaging his temple again.
“In case what hap
pens?” Sen asked, his voice tremulous. “Master, what did you see?”
Mizar couldn't form a response as he tried to make sense of what he just underwent. Thankful that his memory was still intact, he focused on the images Arantha had thrust into his mind. He looked for details that he may have missed when he lost consciousness, but was unable to discern anything new.
He then realized he hadn't yet answered his apprentice's question. “I saw … evil. A great darkness sweeping across Elystra.”
Sen's jaw fell open. “We must tell the King.”
Mizar grasped the boy's arm. “No, Sen. Do not breathe a word of this. Not until I've had a chance to make sense of it all.”
Sen saw the seriousness on his teacher's face and lowered his head in deference. “Yes, Master.”
Having regained enough strength to stand, Mizar rose to his feet. “I regret that your lessons are going to have to be postponed for the time being, Sen. I have a task for you that is of paramount importance.”
Sen's eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Tomorrow, I will speak to King Aridor. I'm going to get his permission to access the Royal Archives.”
“Master,” Sen said, looking even more bewildered than before, “you've sent me to the Archives dozens of times. We've never needed the King's permission before. Why do we need it now?”
“You know that locked vault in the back corner that no one but the King holds the key to?”
“The Forbidden Knowledge?”
“That's right.”
Sen gulped and the blood drained from his face, looking as if Mizar had just asked him to cut off his own arm. “And what information will you be requiring?”
Mizar tightened his jaw. “All of it.”
Chapter Eight
D avin delicately laid the final fist-sized chunk of shale on top of the small cairn of rocks at the head of the newly dug grave. Standing up, he brushed the dust from his pants and joined his mother, who stood a short distance away.
The pair took in their surroundings. They'd landed the Talon in a shallow wadi between two small peaks in the mountain range that ran for hundreds of miles down the western part of the central continent, effectively bisecting the desert that stretched as far as the eyes could see on either side.
They'd made planetfall the night before. After getting the ship moving again, Maeve decided to wait until nighttime before landing, as it would cut down on the number of locals that might witness the Talon as it made its way through the atmosphere. Thankfully, the landing had been textbook, and the two of them slept straight through till morning.
They'd unpacked the portable generators, the purifiers, and the excavator. Next came the food synthesizer, which would give them their first palatable meal since leaving Earth. First, though, they had a burial to attend to.
The hard-packed dirt of the riverbed that the Talon now rested upon proved difficult to dig through. The ground near the mountain lake a quarter-mile away was much softer, so they chose a shady spot underneath a rocky overhang about ten yards from the lake's shore for Gaspar's final resting place. After only an hour of digging in the hot dry air, sweat drenched their loose-fitting clothes.
“Would you like to say a few words?” Maeve asked, her eyes fixed on the grave. “You knew Gaspar better than I did.”
Davin shifted his feet. “I'm not sure what to say.” He looked sideways at his mother. “You've been to funerals before, right?”
Maeve closed her eyes, nodding. “Far too many, unfortunately.”
“Do you remember any of that stuff Grandma and Grandpa taught you when you were little? You know, the God stuff?”
“Not much.” She sighed. “I do remember a poem my mother taught me, though.” She reached her hand over, motioning for Davin to take it, which he did. Both of them bowed their heads.
Maeve spoke in a hushed, reverent tone. “Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near, still loved, still missed, and very dear.” She took another deep breath before continuing. “Lord, I know it's been a long time since we've, um, spoken …” She felt her mouth going dry.
Davin squeezed her hand. They locked eyes, and a wordless conversation passed between them.
Maeve exhaled, then continued. “Gaspar was … a fine young man. One of the finest minds you've ever produced. My son and I …” She took a step closer to Davin, who released her hand and put his arm around her shoulder. “… would not have made it here without him. Please, God, do not let Gaspar's sacrifice, and my husband's sacrifice …” A tear escaped Maeve's eye, slicing down her cheek. Davin pulled her against him. “Please don't let them have died in vain.
“I'm sure you've noticed, humanity's not doing so well right now. Our backs are against the wall, and … well, whatever you can do to guide us through our darkest hour, we'd, um … we'd really appreciate it. We also ask that you welcome the souls of Richard Cromack, Gaspar Wexler, Manuel Villegas, Calvin Stockard, Ji-Yan Lee, Kacy Weatherby, and Suri and Mahesh Patel into the kingdom of heaven.” She paused, glancing over at Davin, who gave a slight smile. “Um, that's it, I guess. Amen.”
“Amen,” Davin echoed, releasing his hold on her. “That wasn't too bad, Mom.”
Maeve wiped her face. “Saints, I'm out of practice.”
“Come on.” He used his head to gesture at the just-unpacked synthesizer. “We'll feel better after we eat. I always do.”
She couldn't fault that logic. “Lead the way.”
One final look at the grave, and they made the short walk back to the landing zone.
* * *
After sustaining themselves on nothing but emergency rations since before they left Earth, unpacking the synthesizer had been like unwrapping a Christmas present, and it chased their somber mood away. Thirty seconds after hooking it up to one of the portable generators, Davin shoved a pastrami on rye into his mouth in that way that only a teenage boy could.
Maeve chuckled as the sandwich disappeared and took a bite of her own. He'd no sooner gulped down the last bite when he pushed a button on the synthesizer's control panel. A few moments later, a side-panel slid open, revealing another sandwich. He greedily scooped it up and deposited it on his plate. It was moments like this that made Maeve glad she was the only one with the machine's pass-code, or he'd eat his weight in food on a daily basis.
“Whoa, slow down, Speedy,” Maeve chided him. “You don't wanna give yourself a stomach-ache. We've got a lot of work to do today.”
“GnarmIknowmomnom,” he said around another huge bite, washing it down with a gulp of cold water. “Sorry. I'm just … hungry.”
“Really? I never would have guessed.”
He grinned. “Any chance for a piece of cake?”
Maeve cocked an eyebrow. “I know we're on a different planet and all, Dav, but that doesn't mean it's suddenly your birthday.”
“Please, Mom? It's only three days away!”
Maeve matched her son's puppy-dog look with a stern one of her own. “Dav, come on. We're not on vacation; we're on a mission. You know that.”
“Fine,” he said tersely, tearing his eyes away and cramming the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. “So where're we gonna start digging first?”
They'd set up a dining table under a large overhang of rock, which shaded them from the heat of the midday sun. A freshwater mountain lake lay off to the left, and the Talon's gunmetal gray hull sat to the right, around the base of the smaller of the two peaks that dominated the area.
Maeve pointed to the larger peak, several hundred yards away. “Right there, I think.”
“You think?”
“Well, like I said before, I don't know anything about the nature of this energy source we're supposed to find. Geological scans have turned up nothing out of the ordinary, except …” She grabbed the computer pad from the table in front of her and tapped it.
After a few moments, she handed the small screen to Davin. It showed a topographical depiction of the mountain
range that surrounded them. At the center, a red dot expanded and contracted at regular intervals.
“For whatever reason, there are several areas on this planet that the scanners can't seem to penetrate. It could be that this energy source, whatever it is, is interfering with them.”
Davin nodded. “Seems like a good place to start. Out of curiosity, why'd you pick this location?”
“Because the other sources of the interference are located near populated areas. There appear to be two other large blurs: one about three hundred miles to the east, the other on the northwestern coast. I'm hoping we can find the source at this location without alerting any of the locals.”
“You sure, Mom? These excavators make a ton of noise, you know.”
“I know, but that's a chance we have to take. That settlement three hundred miles away is our closest neighbor, so we should be okay. Even so, I'll go out tomorrow with some portable long-range detectors and place them around the perimeter. Don't want anyone sneaking up on us.”
“Good idea,” Davin said. “What about that lake? Is it safe to swim in?”
“Should be, but I'll do a molecular analysis to be sure. Don't want any weird microorganisms spoiling our little outing, do we?”
He drained the contents from his cup. “Time to get this show on the road, I guess.”
Maeve collected the dirty plates, opened a lower drawer on the synthesizer and shoved them in, slamming it shut with a resounding thunk. She turned to her son with a determined grin. “Come on, kiddo, let's go kick this mountain's arse.”
Chapter Nine
“P rotectress?”
As Kelia woke, she became aware someone was tugging at her shoulder. Through narrowed eyes, she squinted at the light of the morning sun that poured into the room through the window.
With a groan, she pushed herself into a sitting position. As the top layer of lyrax pelts fell off her body, she realized with a huff that she'd forgotten to cover the window. Her eyes having adjusted to the light, she turned her head to see a pretty, doe-eyed, teenage girl with long dark hair staring at her.
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 4
