Magic's Genesis- The Grey

by Rosaire Bushey

  “So, this is what Wynter has been doing these last weeks,” Keldon said. “I am sorry for the loss of your men and I would avoid more bloodshed.”

  “As would I,” Manlar said, “but Ahlric had no heir and as word of his death spreads, the loss of eight score men will be only the start of the killing. You know what an open line of secession means.” Manlar was pouring himself another glass of wine and Keldon reached out to stop him.

  “It means you need your wits about you. And it means we need to figure out where the power bases are within Wesolk to prevent civil war. You will have more potent enemies than Solwyn now, and you cannot afford to have your army range far from home.”

  Manlar nodded in agreement but cradled his glass in his hand all the same. “Who is fit to lead?”

  “There is a rightful heir to the throne of Bayside.” Krieger said simply.

  “That would solve all our problems and deserve another drink.” Manlar lifted his glass again. “Who is this ‘rightful heir’?”

  “Are you familiar with Captain Edgar Branch from Steven’s Folly?”

  FIFTY-ONE

  The Lords of Wesolk had, under the rule of Ahlric and his forebears, grown rich and prosperous. They had no desire to engage in an expensive, and self-destructive war amongst themselves. Keldon, with sword drawn, sat down with them to arrange a peace, which was agreed quickly and without a portion of the hostility and gamesmanship Krieger would have expected.

  Unable to help heal the soldiers of Bayside, Lydria used her power to bury them and mark their graves.

  Within a day, the people of Solwyn and the troops of Wesolk gathered in the tundra and Branch was announced as rightful heir to Bayside and his birth proclaimed by Krieger. Knowing the documents of which Krieger spoke would be produced to verify the claim, the ministers who traveled with the king quickly agreed and Branch quietly assured them their services would continue to be required under his leadership.

  Lydria saw at once that Branch held the respect of the soldiers as well as the lords and none believed King Edgar would threaten their power or property. Most of all, they were acutely aware of the danger should he not be accepted. The lords conceded, even without the drawn blade of Keldon, that Edgar’s rule would be more advantageous than the alternative.

  “As my first act as King of Wesolk then, I would make a long-lasting and fruitful peace between the people of Solwyn, the people of Eifynar, and the people of Wesolk. Wesolk will relinquish any claims real or implied to the cities of the north, and work to maintain a prosperous and mutually beneficial trade with Solwyn.”

  Wae Ilsit stood by the new king’s side and held him by both shoulders. “On behalf of the Eifen, we are encouraged by this offer. However, our home is no more, and we will return to the west.”

  “Your loss has been most grievous, Wae Ilsit, is there nothing I can do?”

  “You are a king now. I am the leader of my people. We will go west and tell our stories and then, we will come back. Perhaps, in time, we can build a peace between Wesolk and the far western city of my ancestors. But I will come back, and we will rebuild Eifynar.”

  “The city of the Eifen shall be watched over and treated as a sacred place until your return,” Edgar pulled the man to him and hugged him long. As the two separated, Edgar lifted his head so that all could hear, “The Eifen are now, and will be forever forward, steadfast friends and allies of the people of Wesolk. Eifynar, and the woods from the sea to the great lake will be their home, whenever they shall return.” Wae Ilsit smiled and bowed his head in thanks.

  “Who speaks for Solwyn?” The crowd grew silent waiting to see who would step forward, when a voice from the back spoke. “I would have Sir Keldon be King of Solwyn with Malai as our Queen.”

  The cheers from the people of Solwyn gathered on the tundra were instant and boisterous. Those near him pushed Keldon forward, his head towering above all the others so that everyone might see the humble man blush by such acclaim. Even the soldiers of Wesolk joined in the shouting, happy to see another of their own so elevated.

  “I speak for Solwyn, and if they will have me, I consent to be their king,” Keldon said as he was greeted by both Branch and Wae Ilsit, all of whom were engulfed in a tremendous roar of approval.

  FIFTY-TWO

  The next morning, after the formalities of signatures sealed a treaty of peace and cooperation between the three lands, the soldiers of Wesolk began their march back to Bayside while Wae Ilsit, Relin and Drae Ghern prepared to head west.

  Lydria approached Wae Ilsit with a small leather wrapped parcel in her hands. Looking into her eyes, Wae Ilsit unwrapped the gift to reveal the Farn’Nethyn blade he had given his son.

  “Thank you Lydria.” Wae Ilsit’s eyes tightened and his lips rose to a smile born of sunshine and happiness. “You must keep this gift. Because of you, I know my son did not die in dishonor and that he has atoned for his youth at the price of his old age. You are my daughter now. Haustis belongs to all the Eifen, and so the Farn’Nethyn blade passes to you.” Wae Ilsit placed the package back in Lydria’s hand and laid his palm across it, squeezing the stump of her finger and smiling again before turning away, leaving Drae Ghern alone with the wielder.

  “The Farn’Nethyn is more than an interesting ore,” Drae Ghern said. “Until recently I have given very little thought to the darkstone blade. For years, we have searched for this ore because it was rare, and valuable, and held properties steel blades could not match. However, the spirits have of late shown me visions of a blade of night and a blade of fire.”

  “Do you know what it means?”

  “I do not.” Drae Ghern smiled, took Lydria’s hands, pressed them to his lips and turned to walk with his son.

  Lydria and Haidrea returned to Solwyn with Keldon, the people filtering back to their farms and homes, and the hammers picking up the rhythmic pounding of previous days but with less intensity and foreboding.

  Watching the people return to their homes, a rending series of cracks filled the air, and the people of Solwyn turned as one toward the castle, where red, green, and blue shapes were flying through broken panels of the ice roof. The pillars had shattered, and within seconds, the ground started to shake as the castle crashed down upon itself. Chunks of ice the size of boulders flew to the west, smashing into the arena.

  When the air around the building had cleared, only the Cobalt Tower remained. The entire town followed Keldon, Lydria, Haidrea, and Krieger toward the tower, but no one spoke. When they arrived, the townspeople stood respectfully by the stairs, not willing to encroach upon the home of their king, even if it had fallen to the ground.

  “Would you like me to stay and help you build a new castle of stone and wood,” Lydria asked.

  Keldon never had the opportunity to answer. A large, hairy man wearing a leather smock and carrying a hammer nearly as long as Lydria’s arm spoke first. “If it’s all the same by you wielder, I think we’d prefer to make our king a proper home, and again, with respect, I think we’ve had enough magic for a time.”

  Keldon turned his head to Lydria so that his smile couldn’t be seen by the townspeople, and lifted his eyebrows, and then turned to walk back into town, offering to buy them all a drink.

  Lydria, Haidrea and Krieger stayed in the ruined building, helping Lydria look for something that they found under a pile of wood. Lydria lifted it with magic and brought the scaly green body of the man who had been Kelmenth to the base of the Cobalt Tower where she prepared for it a tomb of magical construction. On a glossy black stone covering the remains, Lydria thought of etching the man’s name into the stone, and when she opened her eyes to see her work, she was surprised to see a fading green light and words carved in silver, “Here lies Kelmenth, first of the Dragons.”

  “At least we have a name for the creatures now,” Krieger said, reaching out his hand to help Lydria to her feet. Climbing the stairs to the main floor of the castle, Lydria sealed the Cobalt Tower, creating a prison for Wynter that only t
he sword of Keldon could unlock.

  In town Lydria and Haidrea bid farewell to Krieger who was to return to Bayside and his new position in the court of Edgar.

  “I am to be the king’s personal counselor,” he said sheepishly to Lydria. “I hope you will visit us soon.” Krieger hugged the women in the Eifen fashion and knelt to scratch Kimi’s ears. “I will miss you too, young Kimi. You are a most inspirational feline.” Reaching into his pocket, Krieger took out meat he had gotten from a butcher.

  Krieger left the women and made his farewell to the king and queen, who had joined her husband outside the tavern, where most of the town gathered to drink.

  As Lydria and Haidrea came to make their farewells, Keldon said, “I will watch over Wynter and see that he is treated well. For all the ill he intended, he has done great good for many people of the north. While I cannot forgive his sins, I also cannot forget his work. It has provided me my queen, my throne, my people, and the very lives of many of these people.” Keldon was a wise king already, Lydria thought, so much more than many kings became in a lifetime.

  “Such as it ever is amongst the Grey,” Haidrea said. “Works done in the service of evil often turn to good.” Haustis smiled at her friends and reminded Lydria that it was time to head west to speak with Grettune.

  Both women promised they would return for the coronations of Keldon and Edgar the following summer, and Lydria would check in on the prisoner from time to time.

  “Until that time, King Keldon, keep your sword with you and please let me know if you see any sign of the remaining thirteen… dragons.”

  *******

  The peace of the Cobalt Tower, even in the dark winters, was calming and Wynter watched from the windows as the construction of a great house was begun for Solwyn’s new king on the footprint of his former castle. The town continued to grow and prosper and in the dark evenings he looked to the north, to watch strange lights in the sky, but what they were he could not recall. The question nagged at him and he felt as if he should understand the riddle but each time he came close, the answer slipped away. Grasping at the edges of his memory he could feel an intense heat and fear but could not recall what caused either.

  Somehow, Wynter retained some of his magic, although it was only of a kind that was both beneficial and personal, and even that seemed to leave him altogether when Keldon left town.

  Months later, as the town moved through spring and prepared for the coronation of Keldon, Wynter drifted into sleep where he walked in a place of cold whiteness along a cobbled path with white-barked trees and colorless flora. He was entirely unaffected by the cold and enjoying the serenity and motionlessness of the place. He longed to sit and soak in the quiet and was relieved to see a stone bench near a bend in a path some distance away. When he sat, he closed his eyes, hoping to dream within a dream, and perhaps never to return to the prison of his tower. His desire to not wake from such a lovely dream crashed to a halt when he heard a young man’s voice.

  “Hello, father.”

  The End