by Aaron Ehasz
Amaya turned her horse in a circle, looking for anything of importance, being careful to avoid the blasts of steam that rose from natural vents in the ground. Had her horse’s ears just flitted to the left?
Amaya whipped her own head in that direction and trotted slowly toward a large vent. There wasn’t much steam coming out, considering the size of the hole. She dismounted and leaned in to examine it. This was curious—
She suddenly felt vibrations on the pathway floor behind her. They were decidedly not her horse’s footsteps. In an instant, she leaped off her horse and whirled to face the three figures who had followed her down the path. All three wore fire-red armor that set off their mahogany skin tone. Amaya recognized them in an instant.
Sunfire elves.
The warriors raised their swords and rushed the general.
They were fierce, determined elves, and it was three on one, but Amaya’s strength, experience, and mighty shield outmatched all three. One by one, she fought each elf to the edge of the path until each one fell screaming into the fire pit below.
Out of breath but alert, Amaya looked up. Apparently, she wasn’t done.
A female warrior wearing a golden headdress stood a few feet away, her armor glinting in the firelight. Her yellow-gold face paint highlighted her dark brown eyes and fierce expression. She had a hand on her sword, but she stood still—calm and confident. Amaya was sure she was facing a Sunfire knight, one of the most elite fighters in all of Xadia. She felt a twinge of intimidation, but steeled herself for battle.
They locked eyes. Then, with a slow, steady hand, the knight reached for her sword in its runed sheath. Amaya gritted her teeth; she recognized the weapon as a glowing Sunforge blade. One of the rarest weapons in the world, the blade’s heat alone could kill.
It suddenly seemed to Amaya that she and the knight had been sizing each other up for hours—it was time to break the standoff.
“AHHHHHHHHH!” she cried. She lowered her head and charged the knight.
The two warriors clashed. The Sunforge blade sliced through Amaya’s sword like a hot knife through butter, breaking it in two. Amaya would have to rely on her shield now.
The knight came at Amaya multiple times, swinging the heavy blade with ease. The general dodged each of the elf’s dangerous swings, but the hot orange glow of the blade was so bright, it was nearly blinding. At one point, her shield took a hit from the blade that left it with a smoldering gash in its surface.
Amaya noticed that the Sunfire knight’s confidence seemed to grow with each swing of her blade. The general knew that those who feel invulnerable sometimes neglect their other senses—a mistake Amaya herself would never make.
Your blade may be invincible, Amaya silently said to the knight as she dodged swings of the blade. But you are not. Watch and learn.
Amaya bided her time till there was some space between her and the knight. Then Amaya stood tall and beckoned the knight to approach her.
Sure enough, the knight took the bait. When she charged forward, Amaya was ready: She slammed the knight in the torso with a side kick that sent her flying backward. The knight landed on her back, skidding to a halt just inches from the lava.
It was a small victory, and Amaya knew her weapons would not hold up against a Sunforge blade forever. She took this opportunity to mount her horse and race back the way she came.
“Dragons! The Xadian threat grows every day,” Viren said as he slammed his fists down on the battle table. “Wake up!”
It was early in the morning, but he had been up for hours, strategizing about the kingdom’s future, caring about the kingdom’s future. Some of the other council members were still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
Viren, the high mage, had called this meeting of the council in the throne room to discuss the next steps for the kingdom of Katolis. The princes had both disappeared; there was an empty throne and no clear successor. The council would listen to him. He would make them understand that King Harrow’s assassination was only the first incident in what was surely a full-scale war.
“There have been sightings of terrifying shadows in the clouds, flying high above the towns and cities of Katolis—war dragons!” he yelled.
A skeptical council member waved his hand in Viren’s face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—war dragons? How can you tell they’re ‘war’ dragons and not just … you know, regular dragons?”
Viren laughed derisively. Such a question could only come from an ignoramus. He looked at the other council members and shook his head, trying to bring them into his confidence.
“Gigantic destructive beasts are circling at the edge of our kingdom,” he said. “They’re not our friends. It’s naive to ignore this. They’re waiting to strike! We must take action.”
Viren frowned at the soft murmuring around the table. Finally, High Cleric Opeli spoke. “No, we should wait. Xadia sent assassins, and they took the king’s life,” she said.
“Yes,” cried Viren. This was exactly his point. Did Opeli want to sit around waiting to be attacked again? “And we must answer Xadia with force.”
“But there hasn’t been even the slightest skirmish since then,” Opeli said. “Maybe the assassination was it. They’ve had their revenge, and everything will just … settle down now. Perhaps anything we do would escalate a situation that is actually waning.”
“Settle down?!” Viren scoffed. “Can’t you see the danger we’re in? General Amaya reported that elven forces are gathering on the Xadian side of the Breach. We must be prepared to fight, and we won’t be able to fight them alone.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can only hope I am not alone in thinking we must call for a summit of the Pentarchy.” Viren knew that as this conflict escalated, it was critical that all five of the human kingdoms combined their strength. He looked around at the council members, trying to get a read on their inclinations.
Opeli, as usual, stood strong against Viren.
“You’re out of order, Lord Viren,” Opeli said. “Only a king or queen can call for a summit. Frankly, I doubt the other rulers will even look at a message that doesn’t bear the king’s seal.” She crossed her arms.
“But this is a crisis of historic proportions!” Viren yelled. How could Opeli not understand the calamity? “Humanity could face extinction if we don’t work with the other four kingdoms to do something!”
“None of that matters while we have no king,” Opeli said. She leaned in and stared Viren down. “Therefore, our top—and only—priority must be finding the princes. Until we do, our hands are tied.”
Another skeptical council member grinned, agreeing with Opeli. Another one yawned.
“It seems the council is still divided,” Viren said, “and perhaps not alert enough to make this decision.” He shot an accusing glare at the yawner. “The council shall convene again when everyone is properly prepared for this discussion.”
Viren left the room before anyone could protest. He did not agree with Opeli when it came to the princes. His hands weren’t tied in their absence—quite the opposite, in fact. However, Opeli did make one good point: The only way to get the attention of the other four kingdoms would be with letters bearing the king’s seal.
Viren strode across the courtyard and ascended the stairs to King Harrow’s chambers. When he reached the top, he shuddered involuntarily at the scene before him. Arrows, elven and king’s guard alike, stuck out of the king’s chamber doors. Dried, crusted blood splattered the walls. For a moment, Viren found himself reliving the night of the final battle; screams and chaos roiled in his ears. He shook his head to clear the visions, and then entered the king’s bedroom.
Although someone had attempted to clean up around the tower, the king’s bedroom had been left untouched. The bed was unmade. Harrow’s belongings were broken and scattered about. An arrow stuck out of the cracked face of a large pendulum clock, freezing it at the time of the attack. The balcony door was partially open, and the curtains fluttered softly in the breeze. In the corner, th
e king’s songbird, Pip, stood silently in its cage. Viren walked over.
“Good for you, surviving the attack,” Viren told the bird. Pip did not respond.
Viren held one hand over his face to stifle a sob—and sank onto the unmade bed. I miss you so much already, dear friend—
He ran his hand over the soft bedclothes, trying to soothe himself, but his hand stopped on a hard object—a small painting in a frame. He picked it up and came face-to-face with a royal family portrait of Harrow, Queen Sarai, young Callum, and baby Ezran. This was certainly one of the very last things the king saw before the assassins came.
Viren felt a pain budding in his chest, a mix of sadness, regret, guilt, and loss. He willed the emotions back down inside before they could grow out of control though. He hadn’t come here for sentimental reasons.
He placed the portrait back on the bed, then walked over to Harrow’s desk and tugged on the wooden drawer in the middle, the one he’d seen the king pull paper and quills from a million times.
“Locked,” Viren muttered to himself. He shook off a final pang of guilt, and then uttered a basic spell. The drawer shot open, revealing the king’s seal on a stack of paper next to a ball of red wax. Viren pocketed what he needed and left the chamber.
That afternoon, Callum accompanied Lujanne to a place she called the Moonhenge. They must have climbed two thousand stairs, and at this point, Callum was feeling the burn, as Soren might say. If he’d known he’d be expending this much physical energy, he might have forced himself to eat more of those grubs-disguised-as-food this morning.
Actually, he would not have done that.
“What, you’re not impressed?” Lujanne asked, gesturing to their surroundings.
Callum looked around. Shimmering pools of water surrounded a collection of ruins—the remains of structures that had clearly once formed the perimeter of a moon-shaped building. A gushing, marvelous waterfall reflected the light of a faintly visible daytime moon. It was peaceful and awesome and supernatural. Callum breathed in the ancient majesty of the place.
“Lujanne, thank you so much for agreeing to show me stuff!” he said. Claudia had taught him some magical tidbits here and there, but learning from an elf felt authentic, like he was a true apprentice. “I can’t believe I’m going to learn magic from a real mage.”
“How do you know I’m real?” Lujanne asked mysteriously.
“Uh …” Callum didn’t know how to respond, but he was ready to put up with just about anything from someone who would teach him magic.
“Don’t worry, I’m real,” Lujanne said with a little laugh. “Come on, this way.” Callum hurried to keep up with her.
“This is the Moonhenge,” Lujanne continued. “It’s a special place that magically connects with the Moon Nexus at the top of the caldera.
“Thousands of years ago, when Xadia was one land, this place physically embodied a very deep magic. The architecture, the design, every aspect of this place was itself a magical symbol, like a massive intricate rune. The ancient ancestors of Moonshadow elves performed fantastic rituals here. Would you care to take a peek?”
Without waiting for Callum’s answer, Lujanne chanted a spell: “Historia viventem.” She traced a rune in the air as she spoke the ancient words and made a sweeping gesture with her arm.
Callum waited quietly, but nothing happened. Maybe Lujanne is just a fake, like her gross grubs banquet—
Suddenly, Callum felt an ice-cold wave run through his body. When he blinked, he was staring at the back of an ancient elf—it seemed a ghost had just passed through him! Then the cracked ruins began to glow electric blue. Before Callum’s eyes, the cracked stones resealed themselves, and the ancient structures grew into their former grandeur, though they were made of only faint ghostly light. Two moonlit chapels reached high into a dark sky. It was as if Callum was looking into the distant past, a spectator at an event that had occurred over a thousand years ago. Dozens of translucent elf ghosts walked through the phantom Moonhenge, lost in their own world.
“Legends say those ancient elves could use the power of the Moonhenge to open a portal through the Moon Nexus to another plane,” Lujanne said. “It was a shimmering world beyond life and death. Or perhaps it was a plane between life and death? Beyond or between, either way, this was one strange plane, and very dangerous.”
Callum didn’t care which description was correct; this place captured his imagination. A world on the other side of life and death sounded like the type of place where he might be reunited with his mother.
He watched the sparkling elf illusions dance. Some were playing beautiful stringed instruments.
“But it’s ruins now—what happened?” Callum asked.
Lujanne released the spell and the illusions evaporated, leaving only rubble.
“The Moon druids destroyed it themselves—when Xadia was divided in two,” she said. “The Moon Nexus happened to be on the side of the continent that was designated for humans. And so the Moon druids decided it was safer to disable this magical place.”
“That’s so sad,” Callum said. The more he heard about fighting and war, the less sense it made to him. Now, because of the fighting, no one could enjoy this special place. It wasn’t even worth thinking about reuniting with his mother—this portal had closed forever.
“Ever since the portal closed, there has always been a Guardian of the Moon Nexus—a mage like myself,” Lujanne said. “It is the guardian’s duty to prevent humans from discovering the Nexus.”
“What happens when humans do discover it?” Callum asked. He shuddered to think that he was now part of a very small group. “Do you …” Callum drew his finger across his throat and gulped. Lujanne seemed lovely to him, but he was starting to believe that anyone was capable of just about anything.
Lujanne laughed at Callum’s question. “Nah, why kill them when you can break their brains with insane illusions,” she said. “I’ve got some real mind melters—they would completely freak your bean! Interested?”
“Um, I’ll pass,” Callum said. He had little interest in having his mind melted. Or in having his bean freaked, for that matter.
“Suit yourself,” Lujanne said as she continued on the path. “Follow me.”
As the sun set, the pair walked along a path that led up from the Moonhenge to the edge of the caldera. Lujanne’s energy was boundless—Callum had trouble keeping up.
“Though primal magic is everywhere, it may be weaker or stronger at different times and places,” Lujanne said. “The Ocean is strongest at high tide. The Sky is strongest in a storm. And the Moon is strongest—”
“When it’s full!” Callum said, a proud smile on his face.
“Please don’t interrupt,” Lujanne said, and Callum’s face fell. “But yes. And there’s more. There are six special places where the magic of primal energies is most pure and powerful in this world. Such a place is called a Nexus. This is the Moon Nexus. Look.”
She gestured to the caldera spread out in front of them. It was an enormous circular crater filled with sparkling blue water. Callum gasped. The caldera was a miracle of nature. The clear blue water shimmered pink and orange in the waning afternoon light. Something about the lake reminded Callum of the moon.
“The Moon Nexus reflects the moon perfectly,” Lujanne continued. “When the moon is full, its light completely fills the lake. Moonlight is already a reflection, each and every ray of light reflected off the moon itself. Moon reflects sun, as death reflects life.” She closed her eyes as if lost in her deep—if somewhat confusing—thought.
Callum agreed the scenery was beautiful and awesome … but it didn’t have anything to do with why he’d asked for Lujanne’s help. He needed some practical teachings in the ways of magic. He decided to be straightforward.
“I love this!” Callum said. “I love learning about magic. But I want you to teach me to do some Moon magic. Maybe some hands-on learning, something easy to start me off … some kind of moonbeam, or a moon ray
?”
Lujanne gave Callum a hard look. “Humans can’t do magic.”
Callum didn’t want to be rude to Lujanne, but she was wrong. “Um … I did do magic.”
“Right, with a primal stone,” Lujanne said. “But then you smashed it, so now you’re just a standard human again.” She giggled.
Callum felt his face fall, as well as all his hopes for the future.
“But look on the bright side,” Lujanne said. She wiggled her four-fingered elven hands at Callum to demonstrate her point. “You humans have those extra fingers. The tiny ones—what do you call them? Pinkos?”
“I know other humans who do magic,” Callum said. He stared glumly at his useless pinkies.
Lujanne sucked in her breath and shook her head. “We do not call that practice magic,” she said, refusing even to say the words dark magic. “It’s an atrocity.”
Callum hung his head. “This can’t be. I thought magic was … my thing. I was good at it.”
“It looks like you could use some cake,” Lujanne said, producing a delicious-looking slice of vanilla cake out of nowhere.
“That’s really a plate of worms,” Callum said.
“Oh. You’re too smart for old Lujanne’s illusions.” She put the cake behind her back and immediately whipped out a bowl. “How about some nice old-fashioned iced cream, then? Hmm?”
Meanwhile, much farther down the hillsides of the Cursed Caldera, Ezran geared up to give Zym a lecture on flying. Ava and Ellis had joined to watch the practice, and Ezran felt pressure to succeed. Bait was there too, a stern expression on his face.
Ezran placed Zym on top of a small boulder and readied himself to give the little dragon some firm but kind words. But it was hard to concentrate with Bait staring at them like that. Was he maybe jealous? Ezran thought the glow toad would radiate a bit green if he were seriously jealous, but it might be worth reassuring him anyway.
