Wayfarer (The Empyrean Chronicle)

by Siana, Patrick

  “Galacia.”

  “Do you swear to use your abilities to protect the Crown, and by extension Galacia?”

  “I swear to protect the Crown and Galacia beyond from all their enemies, without the realm and within,” Ogden answered, and let his eyes fall on Oberon. The implicit threat was not lost on the wayward Lord, who blanched a shade under Ogden’s iron-eyed gaze.

  “The Crown is satisfied,” Eithne announced. “Now, I declare this meeting of the Council of Six to be adjourned. I call then another informal but clandestine Council to discuss the matters involving the arcane disturbances and recent attacks. Those that do not have arcane or military expertise are freely dismissed to see about the other matters of governing our fine realm.”

  Eithne reached for a grape and paused with it halfway to her mouth. “I believe that means you Lords of House Oberon, Ogressa, and Rabidine.”

  “As her Grace wills,” said Winthrop Rabidine.

  “So shall it be, Your Highness,” said Vachel Ogressa who stood and sketched a bow, straining his sweat stained blouse.

  Oberon said nothing but left the council chamber with his fellows.

  “Ogden,” said the queen, “be so good as to fill Lord Oberon’s vacant seat to my right.” To the page she said. “Would you be so good as to fetch Master Phinneas and Marshal Lar?”

  After the page bowed and scurried off, Eithne relaxed in her seat and turned to the remaining Lords. “Lord Antares, dearest Uncle, and Lord Mycrum, you two were instrumental in seeing that I had a kingdom to return to last fall. We find ourselves set against yet another great foe, one as covert and as dangerous as the Scarlet Hand. I find I have need of your strength again.”

  †

  “No mention of Rasen Motyl in this catalogue either,” Bryn said, her voice thick with exasperation. She dropped the ponderous ledger on the table.

  Danica reached for the tome, but it slid inexplicably sideways and off the table. It crashed to the floor and opened, pages fanning through the air. A strange sensation passed over Danica, as if someone had walked over her grave, or unseen eyes watched her. She rose from her seat and went to retrieve the catalog ledger. She scanned the page.

  “What page is it open to?” asked Bryn, who had a suspicion that the ledger had moved of its own volition. She had certainly seen stranger things in the past year.

  “Memoirs again.” Danica grunted as she hefted the heavy volume. She scanned the page. “Huh.”

  “What is it?”

  “Here scrawled at the bottom of the page in ink.” Danica pointed a finger and spun the ledger so Bryn could see. Someone had written the initials R.M. followed by a catalog number.

  “R.M.,” said Bryn. “Rasen Motyl. Could it be?”

  Danica stood. “There’s only one way to find out. Come on.”

  They wound their way up the spiral staircase toward the top of the tower. Danica tried to ignore the burn in her legs, but at least her feet weren’t cold anymore. “Just our luck that this thing would be at the top of the damned tower.”

  “That’s not all about this wild-goose-chase that is vexing,” said Bryn.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that the only mention we can find of these hidden arts are in memoirs?”

  “So, what? You think that any books containing knowledge on these magics was purposefully left out of the catalog?”

  “It makes sense,” Bryn said around a gasp of air. “The only thing we do know about these secret arts is that they are highly volatile.”

  “We also know that there is a whole secret cache of Arcanum in Arcalum deemed too dangerous to be privy to anyone but the most trustworthy.”

  “A cache lost to us.”

  Danica flashed Bryn a toothy grin. “Then perhaps we’ll have to make it unlost.”

  Presently the two women neared the apex of the tower, or at least as far as anyone had come since Archmagus Grabon had died, long before the Quarter-Century War, taking the secret of entrance to the final floors with him to his eternal rest.

  “Here,” said Bryn, “I think I’ve found it,” but Danica’s eyes were fastened on the closed door that led to the final floors of the Rook’s Nook.

  As Danica studied it she realized to call it a door was something of a misnomer. It featured neither doorknob nor ring and was crafted entirely from a green stone unknown to her. It looked more a wall erected to quarantine what lay beyond it than a portal. A single spellform etched in silver adorned its face: at its center a circle, which was surrounded by six other circles, all touching but not intersecting; a line connected the center of each outer circle to the one adjacent to it, forming a hexagon. The entire spellform was set inside a spell-circle embossed with a flowing script unlike any language Danica had ever seen before.

  “Danica? Have you even heard a word I’ve said?”

  Danica turned from the door. “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  Bryn sighed and eyed the door the White Habit had been staring at. “You’d better turn your thoughts from that. Better arcanists than we have tried and failed to pick that plum.”

  “Perhaps if we were to try the outside?”

  “What like scaling the tower?”

  Danica shrugged. “Why not?”

  Bryn shot her an arch look. “Because spells have been woven into the bricks of the tower. Even if we were able to survive the climb it would be suicide.”

  “Very well. We’ll table it.” For now, Danica added to herself. “Show me what you’ve found.”

  Bryn held up a thin book with a soft, time-worn leather cover. “There’s only the one copy. It’s not typeset but written by hand. And look, no hallmark or scribe mark.”

  “So what, it’s written in his own hand?”

  “Yes, but more than that I think this is his own, personal journal.”

  “Than what is it doing as part of the catalogue?”

  “Now that, dear Danni, is an excellent question.”

  Chapter 38

  Whiteout

  Elias shivered as the whiteout cleared and he felt his body around him once more. Pins-and-needles surged up his spine and broke over his crown. Starbursts danced before his eyes. A series of disjointed spellforms flashed in his mind’s-eye. Something tickled his nose.

  Delicate but sure hands gripped him by the shoulders. “Are you unwell, Wayfarer?” Teah asked.

  Elias blinked and the lights faded, one by one. “How long was I gone?”

  Teah turned him about to face her. She studied his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “How long was I out of my body?”

  Teah shook her head. “You’ve done no such thing,” she said slowly, canting her head to one side. “You’ve been staring into the flames for perhaps half a minute, and I became concerned you’d lost your equilibrium. Then you began to teeter and fall. I thought you were going to lose consciousness.”

  “Huh. Then almost no time has lapsed here.”

  Teah’s eyebrows drew together. “What did you see?”

  “I was back home, only it wasn’t the same.”

  “Likely an illusion, a hallucination caused by the drug.”

  “No, something like this has happened before. Once in the Renwood when I was struck with the fever curse, then again when I drank that poison. And I met with Danica in a dream, I think.”

  Teah shook her head. “These are all situations which are known to cause hallucinations.”

  Elias ignored her comment, lost in his own thoughts. “But this was different. The other times felt real, but it was different than the waking world. I can’t really explain it.”

  Teah’s face fell. She reached a finger up under his nose, and when she withdrew it was red with his blood. “This time was different how?”

  Elias didn’t need to ask to know that she thought it was the warping. “It felt as real as here. The world had the same...density, for a lack of a better word. It’s as if I stepped through a portal, like when I appeared
here. I was disoriented, had a headache, and I had no knowledge how I happened there.”

  “I think it best if we find a quiet spot for you to sit down,” Teah said softly.

  Elias glanced back into the flames. The symbol he had seen in them flashed whip-crack quick in his mind. He swayed on his feet and Malak and Teah were quick to take him in hand.

  With Elias in tow the Enkilder snaked through the throng of Wilder caught in the throes of the ritual dance. Teah led them to an unoccupied spot against the wall. She summoned a sphere of light and examined Elias’s eyes.

  Elias tolerated her ministrations and then said, “Here now, Teah, give me a piece of that chalk you carry in your belt pouch for drawing spells.” She complied after studying Elias with troubled eyes and looking to Malak, who shrugged.

  “Look here. I saw this spellform in the flames. I know that I’ve seen it before.”

  Taking the chalk in hand he began to draw the central figure of the spellform on the wall. The spellform started with an infinity symbol but instead of closing the loop he tracked on and created a second infinity symbol which bisected the first like a cross. He repeated this process until the sigil looked like a flower with six petals set into a circle. He tracked back along the petals, then wound further on, creating a series of six circles and semicircles that bisected each other, creating a fluid symbol.

  Though the spellform was etched into his memory like the brands upon his forearm, drawn in his mind’s-eye in lines of golden fire, he had never been possessed of a skilled drawing hand and it came out lopsided. Still, he thought he did a fair job of representing the central spoke of the form.

  Before he could complete the form by adding circles along the perimeter of the form, Teah grabbed his hand. “Where did you learn this symbol?”

  Elias shot her a flat look. “I told you. I saw it in the flames.” Teah exchanged a look with Malak, prompting Elias to ask, “What is it?”

  “This is a highly guarded spellform in our culture,” Teah said. “It is known only to a few. It is called the blossa d’ infinitaeum, or in the common tongue, the infinity blossom.”

  Elias sat back on his haunches. “Why is it so secret?”

  “This spellform was stolen from the library of the Obsidian Queen by the founder of our civilization,” Malak said. “It is the secret that has enabled us to create Illedium.”

  Elias turned his eyes back to the spellform. It was an elegant design, for the six circles that intertwined within it could be drawn without lifting up one’s pen, for the sweeping lines doubled back on each other. If one focused on it too long, through a trick of the eyes, the intertwined circles seemed to rotate and spin.

  “It is the key to dimensional magic,” said Teah. “It can be used to created portals, or to pierce the veil between worlds, though there are few with the focus or power to empower such a spellform.”

  “Or,” said Elias, “perhaps it is the root spellform of time magic as well. Look here, there’s more. Six circles surround the central form, and then there are lines connecting the center of each circle to the one next to it.” Elias’s hand worked. “See it makes a hexagon.”

  “Intriguing,” said Teah as she traced the lines with her fingers. “Yet it seems incomplete, somehow.”

  “With luck we’ll have the opportunity to test my theory soon enough,” said Elias. “But first we have to find a place where the veil between worlds is thin, so that we can open a doorway.”

  “How would you even know to do such a thing, much less suggest it?” Teah asked.

  Elias blinked, then gave her a rueful smile. “A memory from another life perhaps.”

  Teah let loose a long sigh. “Regardless, our plan doesn’t change. We’re still headed for the vaults of Arcalum. Hopefully we can find direction there.”

  Elias sensed eyes on him. He turned from the wall to find Enra approaching. She peered down at him, a hand placed casually on her hip. “Don’t think you’ll escape that easily.” She handed him a wineskin.

  Elias took the skin and sniffed the bitter contents. “What is this?”

  “It’s made from moss. It will help you relax.”

  Elias shrugged. His mind was still on Asa, and the way she had felt in his arms, so real. “It has been a while since I had a drink.” He tilted back the wineskin and took a deep draw. No stranger to whiskey, Elias didn’t so much as grimace when the fermented liquor splashed down his throat.

  Enra cast him an appraising look as she took back the wineskin. “Come, you must dance.”

  Elias took her hand. “Well, if I must, then I must.”

  As Elias swaggered away with Enra, Malak turned to Teah. “I do believe that woman is planning on bedding him tonight.”

  Teah grunted. “It occurs to me that Elias may not know all that much about women.”

  Chapter 39

  Arcalum Bound

  Elias groaned in protest against the slivers of light that cut through a crack in the curtains. He reached blindly for the flagon of water he had set by the bedside the night before. A warm arm wrapped about him and he felt soft hair tickle the back of his neck.

  “I know you may have drunk too much last night,” said Bryn, “but don’t think you’ll escape me so easily.”

  Elias rolled over and kissed her. “The only thing I wish I could escape is this headache.”

  Bryn laid her head against his chest. “Midwinter’s Night is a fair excuse to indulge too much, even for the stalwart Marshal Duana.”

  Elias sighed. “I’d just as soon sleep through the rest of winter.”

  “Still, hard to believe the season is half done.”

  “It feels like it was just Autumn. I remember when Nyla brought home the first red oak leaf of the season.”

  Bryn lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest. “Who’s Nyla? The girl from the stables?”

  “No, no,” said Elias, “she’s...she’s...”

  A scalding, white pain burgeoned in Elias’s head, stealing his sight in brilliant starburst.

  Bryn sat up, her delicate eyebrows drawn over her azure eyes. “Elias what is it? You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

  The pain cleared and her bedchamber came back into focus. He reached up a hand and cupped her face. “Bryn, I’ve missed you so much.”

  Bryn barked a mirthless, nervous laugh. “What are you on about?”

  Elias blinked away tears. “I...I can’t quite remember...”

  “Remember what?”

  The dagger-sharp pain bit him again, between the eyes, driving deep into his skull. He cried out. He felt Bryn’s hands grasp him by the face, but he couldn’t see her. He saw only a roiling vortex, as hot as the sun and colorless as water.

  His sight returned to him slowly. The room had gone dark. The bed had gone hard. His shirtless chest was slick with sweat.

  “What is it? Did you have a bad vision?”

  “Something like that.” Elias turned to face Bryn and startled when he encountered the face of a stranger. He rolled away from her, reflexively reaching for his sword.

  The dark-haired, copper-skinned woman frowned at him. “We didn’t mate, if that’s why you’re so upset. You were in no condition, and kept on mumbling some other woman’s name anyway.”

  “Where’s Bryn?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.” The woman shook her head. “A pity too. Old Enra would have been the talk of the tribe for the winter for having lain with an outsider.” She shot him a sly look. “Of course, no one needs to know we didn’t.”

  Enra. With the name a door opened in Elias’s mind and his memories returned, as if they had never gone. “Forgive me, Enra. The...visions must have disoriented me. I saw many strange things.”

  Enra nodded sagaciously. “I understand. As an outsider you were not prepared for our smoke ritual. Many have lost their mind under its power.”

  Elias offered her a tight smile. “Fortunately for me the condition was not permanent. Now, I must go find Teah.”
<
br />   Enra handed him his shirt. “She was not happy that I took you last night. Perhaps she has staked claim to you, or wishes she had?”

  Elias humphed. “Oh, I think not.”

  “Recover quickly. Grandmother and I will take you to the broken city above before long. We don’t want to be caught out at night.”

  “I’ll be ready,” Elias said and cast open the flaps of the tent.

  As she watched him stumble away Enra shook her head and said, “That man doesn’t know the first thing about women.”

  †

  To her credit Teah didn’t look surprised as Elias explained his strange experience upon waking up that morning. “We have to move, Wayfarer, and quickly.”

  Elias wiped water from the Wilder spring from his mouth. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Perhaps your strange experiences before leaving Illedium were something other than the warping, but what happened last night and again today can be nothing but. The pain, the whiteouts, I’ve heard them described before.”

  Teah studied her hands and then looked him dead in the eye. “It will only get worse until we can devise a plan to fix it before it’s too late. Time is doubly against us now. We have to put some road beneath our feet before the next episode.”

  Elias studied Teah. While he believed his other experiences in the dreamlike world were genuine manifestations of some new arcana, what happened today felt different. In his heart he knew that the effects of traveling through time had finally caught him, and to ignore it would profit him nothing. “What exactly causes the warping and how do we stop it?”

  Teah began packing up her sundries and wouldn’t meet his eye. “I don’t know, not really. As time magic is a forbidden art, I know very little of its real-world practice beyond theory, as I’ve said. Most of what I know is from White Fey history books and arcane treatises that condemn it and describe the lives of time mages and their fates as a cautionary tale. The rest of what I know is hearsay and conjecture, or what little Leosis had to say on the subject.”

  “It was so real,” said Elias. “It’s like I was there.”

  “Maybe you were, in a way. Perhaps you are slipping through time, or even into an alternate timeline. It’s at least theoretically possible. Or maybe Mordum’s done something. Maybe he’s changed the timeline.”