by Kel Kade
After a round of tiresome genuflecting and Your Majesties, Rezkin could finally get back to the business of exploring the fortress for threats. The corridor to the left was lit by the same blue crystals as the other hallways, but most of the decorative touches were mundane carvings. Still, the carvings were beautiful and appeared to depict what life had been like among these ancient, alien people. Rezkin desired to study the images when he had more time.
He stopped at the first sealed door with his entourage arrayed around him. He pressed his palm to the stone, but it did not assault him or immediately open or dissolve as the others had. Instead, a series of crystal runes lit beside the frame. Wesson, who stood at his side, stroked his fingers along the rune as Mage Yerlin indicated he had done at the other end of the corridor. The door dissolved into nothing right before their eyes.
“This magecraft is phenomenal,” Wesson remarked without realizing he had spoken aloud.
Kai entered the room beyond the threshold and was disappointed when it appeared to be nothing more than living quarters for servants or dockworkers. The other rooms on the lower level were equally unimpressive, but the mages were fascinated.
“The door runes remain lit now that they have been activated,” Wesson observed, “and it seems that they can now be operated by anyone.”
“But, what is powering them?” Tieran asked.
“I have yet to determine the source of their power,” the journeyman said as he considered the possibilities.
The talented members of Rezkin’s unit were studying the runes while the mountain men guarded the corridor. Rezkin removed his mask, clipping it to his belt, and turned to Kai. “Move the guard station to the end of this corridor. No one is to go up the stairs, but we will make use of these rooms. Assign one to the healers for their patients, and divvy up the rest between those most in need, such as the women and those with small-ones.”
“The nobles will not approve,” Kai said, although he did not disagree with the order. “They will desire the private rooms for themselves.”
“I care not what the nobles think,” Rezkin replied. “They can suffer community living for another night or two. They should be relieved that they are no longer forced to endure the hardships of the ship.”
“And you? Which will you take, Your Majesty?” Kai said, emphasizing the honorific to remind Rezkin that he was a king and needed to be treated as such.
“I will rest in one of the armories in the seawall,” he replied.
“Sire, those rooms do not even have doors,” Kai said, “and some kind of phantom warrior resides within the walls.”
“From what Mage Yerlin deduced, the phantom warrior will not appear unless it is activated,” Rezkin said. “I believe it is a failsafe mechanism in case the citadel is overrun, and I doubt the seawall is the only place in which such a security measure exists. Likely, a number of places exist in this fortress from which the phantom warrior may be called forth. For all we know, an army of such warriors is secreted within the runes. I will study the phenomenon later.”
“You want to activate the thing?” Kai exclaimed. “What if we cannot rid ourselves of it afterward?”
“Mage Yerlin said he could figure out the code again. We need only hold it off until he does so.”
“We?” Kai asked.
“You are not confident in your Skills, Striker?” Rezkin said.
“I was not speaking of me,” the striker replied with irritation.
“You doubt my Skills?” Rezkin said, feigning surprised indignation.
Kai sighed in exasperation. “Of course not! You are the king. You need not take such risks for the sake of curiosity. If you insist on doing this, then Shezar and I will fight the phantom, and you can observe from afar.”
Rezkin said, “I am not one of these weak outworlders in need of coddling, Kai. I am a warrior first, and these people need to see me as such. They depend on me for security, both physically and mentally. As a striker, it is your responsibility to protect me, but only if or when I am incapable of protecting myself. You are to provide backup. If I am overrun or incapacitated, then you may intervene; but I cannot have you attempting to fight my battles for me.”
Kai stared at the young man he called king and knew the words to be true. Upon noticing the attention of the others who had witnessed the king’s admonition, Kai bowed and said, “Forgive me, Sire. I must adjust to serving a king as capable as you. The kings of past were not warriors.”
“No forgiveness is necessary, Striker Kai,” Rezkin said. “You are performing your duties admirably. You are correct that my needs are not the needs of past kings who had grown soft in the years of peace and protection. Cael is a warrior kingdom,” he declared.
Chapter 14
“Cael?” Kai said.
“Come,” Rezkin said as he motioned to the others. “We will return to the staging grounds to further discuss matters.”
As they retraced their path back to the lower level, Rezkin issued orders to be disseminated. When they reached the warehouse, he surveyed the activities of the refugees who were disembarking and setting up a temporary mobile camp. Rezkin wanted to be able to retreat to the ship in the event they were attacked from within the unexplored citadel. He also wanted to be able to take refuge in the fortress should they come under attack via the waterway. He thought the latter scenario far less likely, considering the nature of the enchantments on the island, but the Ashaiian Navy was still seeking the notorious Dark Tidings and escaped refugees. Kai, Shezar, and Wesson flanked Rezkin as he watched the outworlders fumble through setting up what he thought to be a ridiculously disorganized camp.
Rezkin eventually voiced his thoughts. “We are no longer in Ashai. I am claiming this island and declaring it the Kingdom of Cael, as was agreed to by King Ionius. The capital city is named Caellurum, as the histories have indicated this place was once called.”
“I think Gendishen may have something to say about that,” Kai muttered.
“King Privoth may reject the claim, but he will not be able to reclaim the island,” Rezkin said. “Although Gendishen officially holds all the Yeltin Isles, never has anyone inhabited this one—not since its original inhabitants. We are the first; therefore, the island is ours.”
“Perhaps, but we will not be able to get supplies if Privoth’s navy enforces a blockade,” Kai said. “Aside from that, if we cannot trade with Gendishen, it will take weeks to receive shipments from Channería; and that is dependent on whether Ionius keeps his word and does not impose sanctions against us to maintain the peace with Gendishen.”
“I have considered that, which is why I intend to meet with King Privoth to inform him of my decision.”
Kai scoffed. “You expect to just walk into a king’s court and say, I am claiming your land; and, by the way, we would like a good trade deal.”
“Of course not. I am not an idiot, Kai. Gendishen has no use for an island it cannot access, and, as far as they know, has little or no value. Privoth does have other needs and desires, though. We must discover what he wants in exchange for this useless rock.”
“You propose a trade?” Shezar asked.
“Indeed,” Rezkin said. “I do not intend to fight for everything. I do have other Skills.”
Shezar said, “If you do not mind me asking, Sire, just what are your Skills?”
“All of them,” Rezkin replied as he watched the heated exchange between a couple of foreign lords engaged in an inconsequential disagreement.
“What do you mean by all of them?” Shezar asked.
“And then some,” Kai added. When Shezar gave Kai a questioning look, the older striker expounded. “King Rezkin claims to have mastered twenty-seven major Skills and sixty-three minor ones.”
“Impossible,” Shezar said. “No one can master all the Skills. Besides, there are only twenty-five major and forty-seven minor.”
Kai laughed. “That is what I said.”
Rezkin said, “We will discuss the Skills another
time. Right now, I want you two to enforce some order in this chaos.”
The two strikers looked over the refugees who had gathered in groups around small piles of supplies. While the arrangement did not possess the structure of a trained army, it could hardly be considered chaotic. Both strikers said, “Yes, Sire,” before slipping away to carry out their orders.
Still feeling out of sorts, Rezkin backed up until his body was pressed against the wall. Glancing around, he realized Wesson was standing quietly several paces away studying him. While he knew this behavior was typical for the mage, in his current state of vulnerability, Rezkin did not care for the close scrutiny.
“What is it, Journeyman?”
After a moment, the mage looked away and said, “We can discuss it later.”
Rezkin nodded and then pushed away from the wall, retreating up the steps into the corridor. Wesson maintained the ward that surrounded the king as he followed Rezkin down the passage leading to the seawall. The guards stood at attention and saluted as he passed, and Rezkin pretended to ignore them. By tradition, the king was not supposed to acknowledge his retainers while they were performing their duties unless he needed them.
Upon entering the section of the corridor with the arrow slits, Rezkin slowed his pace. He surveyed the crystal-lit walls as he addressed Wesson. “Journeyman, do you sense any mage power in this corridor?”
Wesson stretched his senses, struggling to detect even the faintest seep of power. Finally, he answered, “No. I sense nothing.”
Several paces down the corridor, Mage Yerlin was speaking with one of the officers. Both turned as Rezkin approached. “Mage Yerlin, show me these rune crystals that control the enchantments.”
“Yes, Sire,” Yerlin replied with a bow. “These crystals, here, activate the enchantments and spells. Right now, they are lit blue like the others. Once the defensive spell is activated, they glow green and are arranged in patterns, which I have interpreted to be runes, although I have never seen the like. I do not believe they control the enchantments, however. They seem to be a trigger. The actual source of power is unknown to me. I believe the colors of the trigger runes may be indicative of their nature. The red one, there,” he said pointing to the largest rune, “triggered the phantom warrior. When the crystals turn green, they are ready to perform some function but require the operator to trace them in a specific sequence. In this case, they cease the defensive spell.”
“By defensive spell, you are referring to the phantom warrior?” Rezkin asked.
“Yes, Sire. I do not believe it is an actual entity or wraith. I believe it is simply a manifestation of the spell.”
“You could detect this with your mage senses?” Rezkin asked.
“Ah, no, Your Majesty. I sense no use of vimara whatsoever. The other mages have all agreed on this point,” Yerlin said, nodding toward Wesson. “I assume it is somehow shielded from our senses.”
“Have you encountered other instances where mage power was shielded from your senses?” Rezkin asked.
Yerlin stared at Rezkin for a moment and then glanced to the journeyman before answering. “Not before joining your party, Sire.”
“Thank you, Mage Yerlin. Please activate the phantom warrior now,” Rezkin said.
“Sire? You wish me to activate it now?” he asked as he looked around the relatively empty corridor. The life mage glanced again at Wesson for guidance. Rezkin thought it curious that the mage would question the king and look to a journeyman for approval.
“You would not be doing what I think you are doing, would you?” asked a gruff voice that grew progressively louder as its owner approached.
“We are activating the phantom warrior spell,” Rezkin replied.
“And you were planning on doing this without your guard?” Kai said.
“You are here, are you not?” Rezkin responded as he noted several other people following in the striker’s wake with Tieran in the lead.
Tieran strode imperiously down the corridor with all his usual decorum. Whatever humbling affects Rezkin had impressed on the young man had not travelled far beyond his circle of friends. Tieran was a high lord by all accounts. The men who followed carried satchels and trunks and practically plastered themselves to the wall as they passed their king. Tieran stopped before Rezkin with a slight bow that was befitting a young man of his station.
He smiled broadly. “A delivery of comforts for the king.” He sniffed disdainfully and remarked, “What few I could find, anyway.” Then continuing with his winning smile, he said, “I was hoping my gracious cousin would be so kind as to share his quarters with me, seeing as how decent accommodations are difficult to acquire.”
“I doubt there are any to be considered decent by your account,” Rezkin muttered.
The sarcasm was lost on Tieran as he tilted his head replied, “I am sure you are correct,” with complete sincerity. He looked around and the others. Finally, he asked, “What goes on here?”
Rezkin waited until the servants had either retreated into what he assumed was to be his quarters or passed by on their return trip before answering. “Mage Yerlin was about to activate the phantom warrior spell. I wish to ensure that no murderous vapors will be seeping from the walls while we sleep.”
“Excellent! I would very much like to see this. I have heard it is quite impressive,” Tieran said.
“Word travels fast,” Yerlin muttered.
Tieran shrugged and remarked, “After a month at sea, everything that is not wood, water, and salt is interesting. Shall we see it, then?”
“It would probably be best for you to depart,” Rezkin said. “This phantom warrior is reportedly quite dangerous, and we have no idea how long it will take Mage Yerlin to find the deactivation sequence again.”
“Nonsense. I am sure you can handle whatever we encounter,” Tieran replied with confidence.
Rezkin said, “I am not infallible, Tieran.”
“Perhaps not, but you have mentioned on many occasions that you would not undertake an activity if you did not have confidence in your success. Besides, I may be of some assistance if we need fight the thing.”
Rezkin just wanted to get on with his investigation, so he turned and said, “Very well. Go on, Mage Yerlin.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Lord Tieran may wish to move, though, since last time the specter appeared just about where he is standing.”
Tieran skittered to the other side of the corridor, and then he, Rezkin, and Kai drew their swords in preparation for the fight. The apparition did not appear where Tieran had previously been standing. Rather, it appeared directly behind Rezkin. He immediately felt the cold slither up his spine, and he quickly spun to intercept the expected attack. Rezkin’s sword sailed through the vapor without effect, but the entity did not respond in kind. In fact, it did not move at all as it stood expectantly with a confused expression on its insubstantial face. After a moment of study, the phantom warrior spun its sword into a reverse grip and then pressed the pommel into its free hand, holding its arms at shoulder height. Lowering its gaze to the floor, the specter bowed deeply and intoned, “Pereliou evé Spirétua Syek-lyé. Rienau adue feyel mes. Ah’Casue oleri rienau.”
As the phantom warrior held its stance, presumably waiting for a reply, Tieran asked in a loud whisper, “What did he say?”
Rezkin cocked his head and responded, “I have no idea. I have never heard the language.” He glanced to the others, but none knew the foreign language. He said, “Based on the images of the original inhabitants recorded on the walls and the appearance of this entity, I would say it is most likely Fersheya.”
“What is that?” Tieran asked.
“The language of the elves!” Wesson blurted with wide eyes. “Some of the terms used in magery are derived from Fersheya, or so we are taught. It is said that mage power originated with the elves and was somehow passed to humans. We use too few of the words to constitute any semblance of a language, though.”
“I can think of maybe a
dozen,” Mage Yerlin commented, “though I doubt our pronunciation would be appreciated by the elves.”
“I thought all the elves died off,” Tieran said.
“Perhaps,” Rezkin replied. “We cannot say for sure, but they have not been seen in these lands for more than a thousand years—since the founding of Ashai, at least. Based on my studies, I had considered that it was likely the elves were the original inhabitants of Caellurum, but I could not confirm my suspicions until we arrived. I believe we now have sufficient evidence to prove that it is so.”
“What do we do about him,” Kai asked as he motioned toward the vaporous entity. The specter still had not moved and did not seem to tire of his stance.
“It does not appear that it intends to attack,” Rezkin observed. “Mage Yerlin, perhaps you should start trying to figure out the sequence to arrest the spell.”
“Yes, Sire, but might I make a suggestion?” the mage asked tentatively.
“Of course, Mage Yerlin. Please do.”
Yerlin motioned to the entity. “Well, the specter is a spell. So far, the other spells in the citadel, like the doors and lights, have responded to your will. Perhaps this phantom warrior will respond to you as well.”
Rezkin considered the mage’s suggestion and figured it could not hurt to try. He gathered his will and tried to impress upon the entity what he wanted of it. “Speak Ashaiian,” he commanded.
The phantom warrior straightened and dropped its hands as it stood at attention with its sword resting in a reverse grip behind its arm. From his perspective, Rezkin could barely see the glowing sword through the vaporous form. Rezkin maintained a ready battle stance.
