Wycaan Master: Book 02 - The First Decree

by Alon Shalev

  When the army halted at midday to rest, General Shiftan invited his friend to join him away from the others at the top of a ridge. As they tied their horses nearby, the sun finally broke through, sending rays of light in all directions.

  They looked down on the Plains of Agnali, where dozens of lakes glittered under the sun’s golden beams.

  “I would like to go there and fish one day,” Shiftan said. “Perhaps with you when we both retire, old friend.”

  “Seems a long way off,” Tarlach replied,” though I might have such an opportunity pretty soon.”

  “You’ve always been a favorite of the Emperor,” Shiftan said, putting his gloved hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “That’s because I’ve never failed him. Now I have twice.”

  “I don’t think he will hold this against you. You win some, you lose some.”

  “I don’t, or at least I haven’t until now.”

  “What happened at Galbrieth was very problematic, if I can be honest. It was on your home turf. Here, the dwarves were underground, in their element, where they outsmarted us. The fact is we had no experience fighting dwarves. There are lessons to be gleaned here, important ones.”

  “It’s not the dwarves that worry him, or me.”

  “Shayth? He is becoming quite a thorn.”

  “It’s not Shayth,” Tarlach snapped. “It’s the elf.”

  “The elf? Do you still believe he’s some chosen one with magical powers?”

  “I don’t know what to think. But I do know that, for one so inexperienced, he’s very good at staying alive.”

  “Maybe, but this discussion isn’t why I brought you here.” Shiftan lowered his voice and glanced around before continuing. “You have lifted my spirits many times in the past, and I would like to do the same for you, but right now, I must talk to you about something else.

  “I swore to you that I would try to protect Ahad, and I think I need to put a plan in place to help him disappear. I want your permission to make arrangements without you knowing what they are.”

  General Tarlach eyed his friend. “That serious?”

  “It’s easier for the fish to escape before the net is cast. Your wife will also hear that her mother is sick and requires attention.”

  “You are a good friend,” Tarlach said.

  “Would you not do the same for me?”

  “I would,” Tarlach said, and gazed out on the shimmering lakes.

  It was toward the end of the following day’s march that a messenger waited for them at a junction that would take them through the Agnali Pass and into the Vale of Galbrieth. He bowed as the generals reached him.

  “General Shiftan, it is an honor. General Tarlach, I have orders for you from the Emperor.”

  “Hand them over then,” Tarlach answered, his voice steady.

  “They are verbal, my lord. You are to proceed with only a minimal security detail to Ras Albukah.”

  “The monastery?”

  “Yes, sir. You will receive additional orders there. The rest of your army is to camp here. The monastery is less than two hours if we ride hard, and you can return to your troops in the morning.”

  “Then let us ride now.”

  “You don’t need to rest or drink, sir?”

  “I can drink from my saddle. The horses and I will both be attended to at the monastery.”

  With a brief nod to General Shiftan, Tarlach turned his horse and followed the messenger. Six soldiers, all on beautiful white horses, took guard positions around them.

  Tarlach knew very little about Ras Albukah except that its position had strategic military value. It was perched high on a mountaintop and served only a dozen monks. The abbot had been a guest of his at Galbrieth and seemed very amiable.

  But Tarlach wouldn’t be able to discern much more of Ras Albukah tonight as, despite their best efforts, the party reached the monastery after dark. The horses could not be pushed any more.

  The gates swung open as they approached, and when General Tarlach entered into the courtyard, he saw many torches lit around the periphery. The abbot was waiting in the center.

  General Tarlach dismounted and passed the reins of his horse to an attentive monk, who bowed.

  “Welcome to Ras Albukah, my lord,” said the abbot stepping forward, his arms outstretched and his palms facing the general. “I have received instructions that your men are to be fed and shown beds. Your horses will also be well taken care of by Brother Denigh and his team.

  “You, sire, are to come with me. Do you need to drink or attend yourself?”

  “Thank you. Some water to drink is enough for now.”

  “Then please come this way.” The abbot led him into a big stone building.

  “This is our main sanctuary, General Tarlach. The ground level of the building is an area of study, meditation, and prayer. For now, it is off-limits to all but the two of us and the monk over there.”

  General Tarlach noticed a hunched up monk sweeping.

  “He is deaf, poor man. When you are finished, he will bring you to sup with me. Now please, follow me.” He slowly climbed up the ladder and waited for Tarlach to join him at the top.

  The room felt small because of the sloping roof. There was a table inside, sagging precariously under the weight of a pile of books and scrolls. Behind it stood a disorganized, overflowing bookcase. He should unleash his assistant Bortand on them, he rued. Bortand would have a wonderful time.

  But what caught the general’s full attention was a tall, metal frame partially covered by a heavy cloth. It was the only object he had seen that wasn’t purely utilitarian, and it shone with a very recent polish.

  The abbot approached it and drew back the cloth. Tarlach gasped when he saw the black, perfectly triangular stone. It gleamed in the torchlight.

  “Sire, this is an–”

  “An Anwar,” Tarlach said, a wondrous smile on his face. “I have never seen one in person before.”

  “There are very few left, remnants from an ancient age that we know little about. You will receive your orders from here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is a stone of communication. When I leave, I’ll close the trap door so that you’ll have privacy should anyone wander into the hall.”

  “What do I do?”

  “When you are ready, speak only your name and wait.”

  The abbot began to descend the ladder, concentrating on keeping his stiff, elderly limbs in balance. “When you are finished, please cover it up. The deaf monk will bring you to our eating room.”

  When he was alone, General Tarlach approached the black triangle.

  “General Tarlach,” he said loudly and with all the authority he could muster.

  A blue flame ignited within the smooth stone, and there was a dull hum. Tarlach was fascinated. Was it going to show him a message? His orders? As the blue light grew in size and intensity, the humming stopped. When the voice came through, it was clear and crisp and unmistakable.

  “Does not a general, however great his reputation, bow in the presence of his Emperor?”

  THIRTY THREE

  General Tarlach sunk to his knee and bowed his head.

  “My lord, forgive me.”

  “For not showing the proper respect?” The voice was clear and harsh.

  “For that, too, sire. In truth, I do not understand how the Anwar works or what to expect. But more, my lord, I beg forgiveness for what happened in the Bordan Mountains and the dwarf stronghold.”

  “Stand up, General Tarlach. I cannot see you when you are not looking into the Anwar. Ah, you look drawn, my old friend. Is the responsibility proving too much?”

  Tarlach’s lips pursed at the taunt.

  “I am not acquainted with failure, as you well know, sire. I detest it and detest my own failings.”

  “Good,” the Emperor replied. “It is not something that I can tolerate for long, though I understand you face an adversary who may very well be your equal.”<
br />
  “The elf?”

  “No. The elf is probably more than your equal, and if not, he soon will be if we allow him to live. I speak of my nephew.”

  “I am sorry he is st–”

  “Stop apologizing,” the Emperor snapped. “You are my finest general. Start acting like it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tarlach snapped to attention. “What are my orders?”

  “Better. Our spy network describes considerable and unusual movement among the dwarf clans. I suspect this kind of mass aboveground movement is coordinated, and identify it as a threat.

  “I do not want the dwarf clans to form an alliance, for that would be most problematic,” he spat. “They have been mired in their clan politics for decades, and it has served us well. But even more worrying, they must not be allowed to form an alliance with the elf.”

  “The elf?” Tarlach frowned. “You think they would trust him?”

  “He was allowed underground at the Bordan stronghold despite the First Decree. He fought alongside them and, it would appear, led them out to safety. I do not know if they will agree to serve under him, but yes, I fear they will allow him the opportunity to address the clans.”

  “Do you still think their capital is deep in the Hoth Mountains?”

  “I do. And our scouts indicate that this might be the direction of their movement.”

  “It will be well-fortified, judging by what we saw at this small mining colony.”

  “I read your report, Tarlach, and that of General Shiftan. Other armies will meet you at the entrance to the Hoth Pass. We have more dwarf regiments, new forms of explosives, and we will work on a strategy as we receive further information. Do you have any questions?”

  “No, my lord. I will not fail you in the Hoth Mountains.”

  “No, General Tarlach, you will not.”

  The blue flame disappeared and the rock became eerily silent once more. Tarlach took a deep breath. He had not expected a personal audience with the Emperor. The abbot had probably been told not to divulge.

  He picked up the cover that the abbot had put on the desk and froze when he turned back to the stone. There was a distinct, green flickering light in it. All at once, the light gave way and the face of a young, handsome elf with sharp blue eyes and bright white hair was staring at him.

  Both man and elf were paralyzed in place, mouths agape. General Tarlach mustered his considerable discipline.

  “I am coming for you,” he growled. “You and Shayth. I am coming for you, and I will kill you.”

  The elf didn’t answer – he disappeared. The Anwar returned to its smooth black. Rage welled up in Tarlach. So this was his enemy? He had seen the face of his adversary – a young, pretentious elfling. For a moment he wondered whether the elf had heard his conversation with the Emperor. He decided that he didn’t care.

  “I hope you heard,” he growled again. “I am coming for you, and I will crush you.”

  Ahad went to visit his grandfather as he did regularly now on Saturdays. He knew the old man spent Fridays at the Veteran’s Club and hoped he would have news of Ahad’s father. This week, his grandfather’s expression confirmed there was news, and it did not look promising.

  His grandfather’s caretaker had left him sitting in the garden with beverages and fruit. When Ahad entered, she made her excuses and, armed with bags, dashed out to the market.

  “Ah, Ahad,” his grandfather said, struggling to rise. “So glad–”

  “Please grandfather, don’t get up,” the boy protested. He leaned in to hug the frail old man and caught the familiar scent he wore. Ahad suddenly wondered if it was there to mask something else – his grandfather seemed gaunter than ever.

  “Tell me of your studies. How is your mother?” His grandfather spoke feebly, but his eyes were hard and sent a clear message.

  Ahad told his grandfather of his new science partner, of the opportunity he had been given to apply to the university at Geniore a year earlier than others his age. He mentioned he would like to take a trip outside the city to the lakes where his friends had gone recently on a school trip. His mother was very busy with her charity work but missed his father terribly. He talked, sipped his lemonade, and waited for the signal.

  “How have you been, grandfather?”

  “Oh, you know. I’m breathing, and that’s a feat at my age. I’m also walking and still have a garden to stroll around. Do you think you can keep up with me?”

  It was what Ahad had been waiting for. He almost scooped the old man up in his arms, but he suppressed his impatience and allowed his grandfather to lean on his arm and walk, one deliberate step at a time.

  They took an eternity to reach their usual spot at furthest end of the garden where no one could overhear them. Ahad had stuffed two peaches into his jacket pocket and now he sliced one for his grandfather. But the frail man was not interested in eating.

  “They watch me all the time now,” his grandfather said quietly as he pointed to nothing in particular, suggesting to any unwanted observer that he was talking about his land. “Are you being followed?”

  “Yes.”

  “This new science partner, do you know him?”

  “He’s a she, and she’s very pretty,” Ahad answered. “She is new in town so I have not met her before.”

  “She might be a spy. Trust no one. Share your plans with no one. Understood?”

  Ahad nodded.

  “Laugh,” said the old man. “You are looking too serious.”

  Ahad threw his head back and laughed while the old man nodded with vigor. Then he continued. “Ahad. Your mother will soon receive a message to go tend to her own ailing mother. She’ll leave the city for a while. You’ll protest that you want to join her, but she’ll insist you focus on your studies here. No, listen to me.

  “Mirrianda, General Shiftan’s wife, will take you into her house. She knows nothing, and it must stay that way. Do not endanger her or her family. She has two attractive daughters, I hear, so you won’t suffer too much.” He chuckled at his own joke, but it turned into a hacking cough. Once under control, he continued. “We’re looking for a way to get you out of the city, but there’s no official plan yet.”

  “Our military training involves a trip and mock battle soon,” Ahad said. “Perhaps that’s an opportunity.”

  “I’ll pass that on,” his grandfather said. “In the meantime, are you packed? Have you trained with the sword and knives that I gave you?”

  “Yes, grandfather. But my instructor recognized your sword. I didn’t know what to say.”

  “It is natural that I should want to pass on my weapons to you. Do not worry for me. My life is over. Once you leave, I will fade away.” He sighed. “When you next see your father, tell him that I loved him. I was extremely strict and very demanding. We are trained to be soldiers, not fathers. My wife died young, and he never had the benefit of a mother to balance me, as your mother does him.

  “But I would like him to know that I loved him and was proud of him, always proud of him. I don’t know if you will ever get the chance to become the great scientist, or where your life will take you, but I only regret that I won’t get to see you realize your considerable potential.”

  As they began their slow journey back to the house, the old man sighed. “I hope someone will tend my garden when I am gone. It is a beautiful garden, but things can change so quickly. The cycle of life is unforgiving.”

  THIRTY FOUR

  Sellia, Shayth and two dwarves had left the tunnels to hunt and returned with a young stag and wood. Seanchai sat in the corner while the others gathered around the fire to eat the catch. It was hard for any elf to be underground, but especially him. Even so, the others had been adamant that he could not be seen above ground. He craved the freedom among the trees, sky, grass, and rivers. They had snuck away from the malochites using the waterfall for cover and been traveling for several days now, and in the constant dark, he had lost track of time.

  Seanchai pulled out the p
ouch of stones the priestess had given him and set aside the two he already knew – the blue energy channel and his half of the green connector stone. The other half now hung around Ilana’s neck.

  He settled now on a black stone, which he swore was pulsating. He put the others back in the pouch and held this in his palm, frowning. He thought he could hear voices.

  “I do not want the dwarf clans to form an alliance, for that would be most problematic,” a voice spat. “They have been mired in their clan politics for decades, and it has served us well. But even more worrying, they must not be allowed to form an alliance with the elf.”

  Seanchai looked around but there was no one near him. Was he imagining this?

  “. . . read your report, Tarlach, and that of General Shiftan. Other armies will meet you at the entrance to the Hoth Pass. We have more dwarf regiments, new forms of explosives, and we will work on a strategy . . .”

  A second, subservient voice responded. “No, my lord. I will not fail you in the Hoth Mountains.”

  “No, General Tarlach, you will not.”

  Seanchai glanced up again, startled. Still, no one heard. When he looked back at the stone, there was a face. It was an authoritative older human, and he was glaring at Seanchai with vicious hate.

  “I am coming for you,” the man spat at him. “You and Shayth. I am coming for you, and I will kill you.”

  Seanchai didn’t know what to say, but couldn’t help staring into the man’s eyes. He covered the stone with his palm, but the man’s voice was still clear.

  “I hope you heard,” the man growled. “I am coming for you, and I will crush you.”

  Seanchai frantically stuffed the stone back into the pouch and fell back against the rock, chest constricted. He closed his eyes and realized he was sweating.