KEEPER of the REALMS
DRAGON'S EYE QUEST
Book 1
Please note though this is deemed chapter 1, it is subject to change and may become a later entry.
Chapter 1
He liked these moments, when all but a few of Ardonia slept. In front of him lay the House of the Greats. The surrounding wall was only half the size of any he’d seen on the outside, a man could stand upon another’s shoulders and peer over its perimeter. Light from the main fire, thirty paces from him, cast each stone in a bronze glaze, causing shadows to dance across the wall’s face, giving the castle an aggressive look. The air was cooling and with the fire dulling he pulled his cloak tighter against the encroaching chill.
The rest of Ardonia, the cave they’d called home for two centuries lay in darkness.
A servant to the castle emerged. He walked out from the main gate carrying more logs for the fire. He was of slim build and the overbearing weight made his body taut and his legs unsteady.
Gwendalin’s pipe lay in his lap packed ready for use. The embedded ruby at its base began to glow a deep and vibrant scarlet. Five times it’d done the same and five times he’d ignored her. He’d come here as much to be rid of the outside world as to aid and protect magicians. What is it you wish of me this time?
He closed his eyes, reached down and thumbed the smooth jewel.
‘Ioni,’ he said in his mind.
‘Gwendalin!’ She sounded eager and concerned, with a hint of fear. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.’
‘Really, I didn’t realise I’d been away that long. I was…’
She cut him off abruptly. ‘We have a problem. He is back.’
‘What!’ He heard her every word and knew full well who she’d meant. ‘Are you absolutely certain?’
‘I saw him with my own eyes. I thought we’d seen the last of him and hoped he’d never come back. It appears I was wrong and his desire for the lands is great. He has already been to see Fargo and was there for quite some time. I’m worried Gwendalin.’
‘And so you should be. He will undoubtedly make another bid for the city. You must warn them, tell them to prepare. We were lucky last time. We caught up with him before they were even aware of his intentions. This time, I am sure he will be more aware of us and be more discrete in his actions. He’s had time to plan and will be eager to put it to full use.’
‘I will have him followed, and his whereabouts recorded at all times.’
‘That is a good start. But we need to ready ourselves for every eventuality. I will think on this and get back to you.’
He removed his thumb from the jewel before Ioni could answer. Gallan was back for one reason and one reason alone: the natural, a magician born of magic far out-weighing any other. He struck a match and put it to the tobacco. Inhaling deeply allowed his mind to ease, yet he couldn’t quell the impending doom about to befall the outside. Once Gallan had found and consumed the magic of a natural, he’d be that much stronger and defeating him became that much more out of reach. With his magical Source gained in strength, he’d make a pass for the city. Gallan wished to rule and the only way to do so was for him to take control of the City of Magdalor which lay at the heart of all Evania.
Gwendalin needed followers, and followers he could trust. The magicians of old were slowly dying out, time having caught up with the best of them. Gwendalin was one of only a handful left to remember the days when the realm was wholesome and rich. He could still hear the sound of ships blasting their horns in the distance, as they came and went along the River Aida.
Another long pull on his pipe removed him from his reverie. Bartta must be told, but not yet. He had his suspicions of the so called king, and needed to know where his loyalties stood. He had to be sure he wouldn’t rush off seeking an allegiance with the rogue, now that he had returned. And they needed to keep their whereabouts removed from Gallan as much as possible, any good fight was best fought from a distance and from the shadows, and with pure allies, ones he himself knew well. It had only been by chance Gallan’s previous attempt was fought off whilst Gwendalin was within the castle of the city. No, only those he trusted would be told and this time things would be different.
Ioni was the key. She was the link between this world and the next. The archangels kept watch and through her ensured the balance of all things. Gallan should be with them, but he’d managed to avoid departing life and prolonged his time by use of an elf weed. His reason for staying was to do the one thing he’d been unable to accomplish in his many years of life, to rule, to be King of all Evania.
˜
For two sleeps, as they’d come to call what they used to regard as night, he’d kept Ioni’s warning to himself. He’d sat upon his throne and watched the norm of events taking place, the constant chatter of magicians and non-magicians as each got on with cleaning and the bringing of water from the Pool Cave, in barrels, to their honkas and wall mounted leaf pods. The sounds of child’s play in the recreation area to the right of the castle, was dimmed by the occasional clap of magic from the schools in the south.
To his right, the Morhouse stood, behind it the barrels kept for excrement lay fermenting. The full ones were usually lined ready loading in the cart, none had been and it seemed they had been un-thought of. The smell was beginning to waft his way. He placed a hand within his cloak and removed a cotton kerchief and placed it over his nose and mouth. On Bartta’s next outing, he’d be sure to remind the king of their fullness and remind him to have them removed. Or he’d send a young lad to Bartta to have it done sooner if the smell persisted.
Taking a pull on his pipe, the tobacco had burnt out. He was about to strike a match when the ruby came to life and pulsed.
Ioni spoke before he could say her name. ‘You are well.’
‘As well as any man could be who’s carrying such a burden as I.’
‘We are all sorry for that, but you do it so well.’
‘My lady is too kind.’
‘Not at all, you are like a farmer guarding a valuable stock.’
‘I guess I think of them as such.’
It was the usual formality. One which Gwendalin was growing tired. After a momentary pause, Ioni would always get to the matter at hand.
‘I am afraid things have become more urgent. Gokans have been growing in their numbers and I fear they are working with Gallan.’
‘You think Gallan will use them to gain back the city?’
‘Perhaps, but I fear far more. They have been seen entering the Cave of Osuntah.’
‘The dragons cave. Surely that isn’t so surprising. Perhaps the dragon has found a way to lure them there to save you the trouble.’
‘They have been seen leaving as well, and their stay is long enough to make us suspicious. Besides, I make sure that Fargo is fed well.’
He wondered how she was certain of the appetite of someone as large as Fargo, but didn’t say. ‘Even so, what possible treacheries could come of their convergence?’
‘What other than the dragon seeing the use of magic. And if gokans are working with Gallan, then they will surely tell him of what they learn.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We believe that gokans can read minds too. And if they see what the dragon sees, then Gallan will learn of where to find magicians.’
‘That is not possible Ioni. We are bound never to use our tricks for this very reason.’
‘You don’t understand. If the dragon can read minds as we think he can, then he will already know where you are for he will have read from my mind. And if he knows, he will convey such to the gokans, and if they know, they may find a way of telling, Gallan. They aren’t talking yet but are evolving all the time.
‘I try and hide my thoughts as much as I can, but I’m still learning. I keep my visits to a minimum, but I’m not fully taught in the powers of the dragon.’
‘You are still in voice with the other three, have they not taught you how?’
‘No. They have tried but I lack the ability where dragons are concerned. I am reading extensively in our great library, but the books reveal very little of their mind tricks.’
She may have been the voice to the archangels, but she sometimes needed his guidance as much as theirs. Even when they were alive, they were not always the best mentors in earthly matters. He’d told her this often and she never protested when he offered his guidance.
‘Then might I suggest you keep away for a time. I take it you leave the feeding to others?’
‘Yes. I have hunters of a sort do it for me, but I have been told it is wise to keep his council.’
‘The archangels will have their reasons. I wonder if they see him as a tool to be used later.’
‘Perhaps.’ He considered his next words a moment. Ioni spoke before he could answer. ‘I will seek their guidance on the matter. For now I will see Fargo at my usual interval, else he will want to know why I have been absent.’
‘As you wish, but I strongly recommend his avoidance, at least until you have learned how to hide your mind from his.’
‘I will do what I can. Thank you. In return I must ask something of you.’
‘You can ask what you will, and if it is within my power I will oblige as ever.’
‘You know Gallan used the, Elf-weed Toga.’
‘The life extending elf-weed?’ The knowledge of Toga and its uses were not news to him: he kept up a pretense from time to time to make Ioni feel more important.
‘The very same. It doesn’t last for ever, and I have made sure the elves do not allow him access to more. His time is running short and his eagerness to find a natural grows by the day. You have to double your efforts to stop the use of magic, even in the two schools. If Gallan gets a hint of the whereabouts of magicians, you can be sure he will investigate, and with force. He wants to rule, and he knows others will be in his path to stop him, so he must rid the lands of all higher magicians or leaders within the realms. He can’t do so alone and the archangels say there is a magician, a natural, who has equal strength to Gallan. If the two meet, there will be no stopping either of them gaining what they want. These sorts of naturals are born once every two hundred years and you know, the last was that small child who no one knew about until it was too late.’ Gwendalin had known this, had always known but didn’t say. ‘They also believe Gallan knows this and knows his equal is at large, somewhere. He needs to find his equal, now before it is too late. Nothing will get in his way once he knows where he might be, and I’m afraid Lord Bartta would not stand a chance against him.’
‘Bartta would yield, and side with him I am sure, if only to save his own neck. There would be no need for Gallan to kill him.’
‘Gallan won’t take the risk. Besides, you know the sort of man Lord Bartta is. He would likely find a way to over throw Gallan.’
‘Impossible. Yes you are right about Bartta, he can be manipulative and people find themselves powerless in his company, but Gallan is fearless.’
‘You are probably right Gwendalin, but probably isn’t so. Do us all a favour and put an end to the teachings, at least for a while.’
He furrowed his brow at the mention of stopping the teachings. She was wrong, they had to keep the teachings to be certain no un-tapped one would lose control. They only taught small uses of magic, enough to allow control and keep it from seeping out of its own accord. To stop them would be of great risk.
‘As you wish my lady,’ he said with complete conviction, knowing full well he would not.
‘Again thank you. Rest well Gwendalin.’
‘And to you. Thank you for your council.’
‘And yours.’
Removing his thumb from the jewel, he lifted the pipe to his lips. With his cupped hand he sent a spark of heat to the tobacco: little uses of magic like this were fine, he could keep his use of magic hidden, besides what little he needed to light his tobac he was sure Fargo wouldn’t see. Inhaling the smoke into his lungs, he held it before letting out a white plume into the dank air. As always he relayed all that Ioni had told him in his mind, every word. A gift he had been granted at birth. There was always something missed during any conversation.
She had said, “Gallan would know where to find magicians,” the second time of mentioning. Why had she not said, “Where to find you?” as she had previously said. This suggested a slip of her concentration, and motioned that others had survived the onslaughts of the non-magicians. Why be so secretive, why not just tell him. He’d often thought of all others as dead. Was this her way of telling him his suspicions were false? Were there other magicians roaming the land, maybe even gathered in a place not unlike this?
He had to know, but asking her was risky, for this wasn’t the first time he’d questioned how much she was telling him, or whether she was telling him the whole truth. But why shouldn’t she keep things to herself, he after all kept things from her.
She’d asked him to stem the teachings in the schools, but he wouldn’t. This would only spark curiosity and he’d have to explain the danger now facing those outside which he wasn’t prepared to do. Outbreaks of fighting within Ardonia had reached higher levels of late and he didn’t want to give cause for more fits of fury.
As he blew out a smoke ring, he thought back to a time when dragons ruled the skies. He remembered the first time he ever encountered one. It had soured through the air and on passing, images had flittered through his mind, of eating and burning and smashing things with claw and tail. These were the dragon’s thoughts, he’d known, what gave him pause for thought was whether he’d picked up on them, or the dragon had placed them in his head. Time, as ever, had served a great adversary, and now he knew better. The dragons could not only read your thoughts but impute their own in your mind and from a distance, even from higher than the highest clouds. They could control your thoughts, to the extent of starting wars, simply for the dragons’ amusement. Yes those days were better behind him, far better.
Another pull on his pipe and the exhalation brought his mind back. What was Gallan up to? Going to see Fargo would suggest he means to free the dragon and if that were to happen, they’d all be back two hundred years, and fears would rise in all. OK if you lived in a cave, apart. It was those on the outside who’d suffer and without aid of magicians, would perish.
The gokans, the half-dragon half-man creatures, were going to see Fargo, which could only mean something was brewing. But what? And why had nothing been done about them? Why had nothing been done to rid the lands of the grotesquerie’s? Whatever their reasons for visiting Fargo, they had to be dealt with and soon.
No, Gwendalin, it seems your time is not done yet. There are too many lives at risk for you to sit idly by and watch. He got up from his throne, clenched the pipe in his jaw and walked around. This always aided his concentration and he found walking exercised his brain and plotting and planning came in a fluent trot.
The Old Lady would know a way of disposing of the gokans. It had been her sister, after all, who’d given them life to begin with, by way of amalgamating human with dragon DNA. If anyone she was the one to know how best to kill them. And if she didn’t know the way, her sister would. How to get her alone? That apprentice of hers, what was her name, Lynda, or Celina, or something, she was a nuisance and he didn’t like her. She had a look about her, a troublesome, meddlesome look and he didn’t think her worthy of trust, certainly not his.
Did he trust Ioni? Not entirely, she was good for keeping a bridge to the archangels, but she wasn’t very bright and was always worrying over something and sometimes overstated things. He didn't disbelieve her word, but how much wasn’t he telling her, how much had she failed to mention? There was only one thing for it, he’d have to use the Black Orb of Adu, and seek the wholeness of the truth.
He had to be cautious. Drawing too much attention would result in questions being raised. Connecting with Ioni’s mind was something he did whilst feigning sleep. Walking around Ardonia, whilst everyone was awake and aware was something he didn’t do, no, he’d have to wait and once everyone or most were in their honka asleep, only then would he learn the truth.
˜
All was quiet except for the unharmonious sounds of snoring men, women and children. He sat on his throne waiting. The nearest tower of the castle was the empty one, behind it was Arrin’s. To the left of this, the south-west tower resided Lady Chiara and closer to Gwendalin, the fourth tower was Bartta’s. Lady Chiara’s and the empty tower were in darkness. Light in Bartta’s rooms winked out and Arrin, though the skin had been pulled down, had his torch still flickering. Gwendalin sat a while, scanning every direction he could without looking up to the walls behind. No one stirred. Something changed ahead and he snapped his eyes to Arrin’s tower. The light within dimmed momentarily before coming back, once, twice and then a third time, a sign he needed to talk.
He’d have to wait.
He rose having judged enough time had lapsed for Bartta to be deep in sleep, and walked a steady pace towards the north corner of the castle wall. As he stepped down to ground level, his mind relaxed from the Gateway, any who wished to find it in his absence would, but during sleep it was less of a risk as those he’d known all over Evania would be resting and never allowed passage at night.
Following the path of the north wall, he passed the row of the leaf-weavers’ tables and soon found the large boulder which hid the entryway down into the tunnel beneath the castle. Though he was able to keep his Gateway hidden from all outside, if anyone did find their way through, this was where Bartta and Lady Chiara would make their escape, waiting for any intruders to be among the castle before making a dash for
him and to freedom beyond the Gateway.
He stepped round it, crouched and disappeared inside.
He ignored the torch and reached into the Source within his mind to create his own light. A globe of blue, no bigger than his balled fist, appeared at his fingertips. He sent it ahead of himself to illuminate the passage. Little light gems as these did not emit enough energy for Fargo to see, besides, he’d mastered the ability to hide his own use of magic.
Rounding a corner and then another he soon found himself in the open and emptiness below the castle. Pillars in straight lines, four rows of five spaced ten strides apart, covered the floor making it hard to be sure he was alone. He stopped, dispelled the light gem and listened. No light, no voices, nothing. He created another blue globe and resumed his walk staying close to the north wall. This had become storage for unused items and boxes were piled to waist height, dust had built up on most and some of the youngsters had been here, and sketched fortresses and stickmen and flags. They’d been quite creative and over three boxes had sketched whole battlements and garrisons, deep in a foray.
At the far end, more boxes. He set to work to move some aside with precise easy movements to keep the dust in place on each box. Soon he had a clear path to retrieve a small plain looking tattered wooden box at the back of the pile. He leant and picked it up.
It was free of dust, and it felt weighted in his hands. Turning he saw movement and stopped, pulled the box to his stomach as if someone was there to steal it. Watching back in the direction of the exit he could see nothing and sent his light globe to investigate. It floated between the pillars to the far corner. ‘Who’s there?’ No answer. Bringing the light globe back the other way revealed nothing, yet he wasn’t convinced of his solitude. ‘I see you there, come out.’ Nothing moved. He sent his light globe round twice more, all the time watching the same pillar he’d been sure he’d seen movement. ‘Come out, I know you’re there.’ Nothing.
Old fool. You’re seeing things in your bid for concealment.
He dropped his gaze and gave the box his attention. Removing the lid revealed the black silk which he moved to one side. With his light globe hovering behind his left shoulder, his face reflected in the smooth texture of the orb. He stood on aching joints, unwilling to leave an impression in the dust on the boxes. The bones within his feet ached as if there was no muscle between them and the hard surface. His back though, felt good. He could use his magic to stem the pain, but the use of Healer magic used too much energy and Fargo would notice.
He shifted his weight, his lower back cranked into a new position, shooting pain up through his spinal column. How had he gotten himself here, unable to use his magic to ease his aging body? Oh yes, for the good of the realms he reminded himself. It would all be over once Gallan was sent to Hardesia to be with his archangel kin, and they’d be able to walk the land once more. This couldn’t come soon enough, yet, as in all things, it would take time and proper planning.
Pushing all thoughts aside, he looked deep into the orb. It was connected to him now and new of his presence. He had no need to remove it from its box, merely uncovering it was enough for the magic within to reach out. The black shine faded to a grey mist, turning paler. ‘Show me Gallan,’ he whispered, ‘be his eyes.’
For an age nothing changed. He remained still, then with abrupt speed the orb cleared and he saw a scarlet sky. He had to be quick, too long and Gallan would feel the intrusion. As the visual came back to earth, many faces looked at him, dragon faces on the shoulders of burly muscular up standing creatures with wings held close behind their backs. Gokans. He’d only imagined these from what Ioni had told him, now seeing them for the first time they looked fearsome, gruesome and hungry for a challenge. They were staring straight at him with concentration in their eyes. Was Gallan addressing them? Was this even possible? If only the orb allowed him to hear or at least allow him to know what the other was thinking. There had been an orb of such properties once, but it had long ago disappeared and he had no way of knowing if it still existed. He doubted it.
The visual moved and scanned a span of many bodies, thousands of, blue and green Gokans. All in rows and columns and as one they all dropped their maws and by their look, roared in eagerness or anticipation or agreement. It was only natural that with the lack of dragons in the skies, these gokans would rise in vast numbers. Gallan had enough before him to take the city by force, but what did they stand to gain by such an undertaking and allegiance with Gallan? What had he offered them, full reign of the lands and sanctuary within the walls of the city? Preposterous. The visual spun and lifted, he met the eyes of another Gokan, a red one. Its scaled head looked twice the size of any man’s. A row of jagged teeth lined the top and bottom of its maw, two fang-like teeth, longer than his little finger hung like daggers at the end of a snout which looked to protrude farther than any of the green or blue gokans did. The red had a blood shot stare, so fierce looking its eyes pierced and Gwendalin almost dropped the orb in its presence.
He’d faced Fargo only once in his life and never wanted to see him or any other dragon ever again. Looking through the orb at the figure, he was reminded why. The dragons had been a menacing looking creature and they horrified him.
He’d seen enough and withdrew his concentration. Ioni had every right to be worried. Once the orb had returned to its black sheen and he saw his reflection once more, he covered it and closed the lid on the box which housed it.
He’d thought by what Ioni had told him their numbers were great. Having seen the scene within his orb, he now knew they were far greater in number. Had he seen the extent of this or were there more? How the city and its dwellers had remained intact was beyond him, and why hadn’t the non-magicians sought to rid the lands of their filth? There was only one thing to do, consult with his old friend Arrin, together they would find the cure to the problem. There was no way he was going to assign this to Bartta, for he’d simply brush it off and consider it none of their business. Perhaps he needed someone to go with Bartta on his next outing, someone he trusted to consult with the city’s present King on his behalf.
After replacing the box to its hidden position, he carefully put all other boxes exactly as he’d found them, taking his time so as not to let the dust fall from them. Satisfied he headed to the exit.
Before he got halfway along the tunnel he stopped. What struck him was Gallan had been communicating with the gokans. Ioni had said they couldn’t talk, yet there was Gallan seemingly addressing them. This was bad, very bad.
˜
The walk up the spiral stair was tiresome, twice he’d stopped to catch his breath. It was as if someone had made the tower taller since his last visit and the climb’s end seemed unobtainable.
At the top he walked through the leather curtain and into Arrin’s living chamber. This was a simple room, a small layout with an easy chair next to the fireplace opposite, a counter for preparing meals running along the wall to his left and a table and two chairs to his right. A second floor, accessed by five steep stairs to the right of the fire was only large enough for a simple single bed and small wardrobe. Arrin sat perched on the edge of a wooden stool, with his back to him, stooped over an open book which overlapped the two berth table by a couple of bookmarks at either end.
He was a seedy man with bent over posture and never ventured from the castle often if at all. He didn’t like to be around people, though you wouldn’t think it knowing his background. And had only come here following Runcorn. After their former king’s death he had pleaded twice to be allowed back to his secluded mountain home, but Gwendalin had denied him, asking he stay a while as he had use of his old friend’s council. Which was not a complete lie: he did have need of the other, but hated the thought of him being cut off from everyone and being alone. Arrin was a good man to have around for he was one of those who if he believed he was of some assistance and felt needed, was tickled and did everything he could to please.
He looked up and over his shoulder as Gwendalin approached and made to rise. Gwendalin gestured he remain where he was and moved past him to the hearth and placed a hand close to the pot for boiling water, it felt warm. The fire had been left to die out, small pieces of wood still glowed and it wouldn’t take much to rekindle.
‘I boiled it before I gave the signal. You should have come straight away if you had wanted a hot coffee.’ Arrin’s voice sounded raspy as if he’d smoked too many pipes in anticipation of his arrival.
‘This won’t take much to get going I’ll just throw on another log or two.’
‘No,’ Arrin said, ‘I will be retiring after you leave and I’m always afraid to leave the fire until it’s completely extinguished.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll be here a while and be sure no embers glow before I leave.’
He set to work without further protest and soon had the pot boiled. He worked to prepare two mugs at the counter and with Arrin unable to see he slipped a small vial from within his cloak, removed its stopple and let a pinch of the powder pour out into the mug he’d give to Arrin. The vial’s contents had been prepared by the Old Lady and was a simple mix of dried leaf from the Hospra Plant of Arthenu, Karra Plant from Quissis, and a touch of Bangorla, a tree moss from the northern helm of Saint Lorfan for making anything tasteless – scarce to come by since the turning of the land to waste, all mixed with Toga Weed.
Soon he was seated across from his friend at the table. The book, sprawled across the entire surface made it impossible to leave a hot mug within Arrin’s easy reach. He held it and sipped its contents whilst still studying the book’s pages.
‘What are you looking at this old thing for? You should know it backwards by now.’
‘I was just revising a few aspects of Ooruntor. The mind never hurts from a little revision and refreshment of things from time to time.’
‘We haven’t used that word in centuries. I wish you would become more contemporary and call it what it is, the use of orbs, and why should you be refreshing your mind? You don’t have one and my mind is pure and has no need of reanimation.’
‘I know that, Gwen, it’s just I get bored and I do wish you would allow me to look after yours. You know it’ll be quite safe up here.’ The way he spoke Gwendalin knew he was trying to sound uninterested, yet failed.
‘So that’s it. You want mine to give you something to do. You never were good at subtlety.’
‘That’s not the reason I want it, I merely wish to keep it safe for you. I told you I’m getting bored and just wanted something to read. I know you are well experienced in Ooruntor, or if you like the use of orbs. I just needed to do something. Besides, I could aid you by using the orb whenever I wanted. Let’s face it no one comes up here save you.’
Gwendalin furrowed his brow. Arrin had a point. Gwendalin had to be careful when he used the orb. Up here Arrin was quite alone and could do so anytime he wished. He wasn’t ready to admit this to Arrin. ‘And why would I have need of your aid? Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it.’
Arrin got up on shaking legs and moved across the room at a slow pace, so slow it was hard to see movement at all. He rummaged inside his cloak. When he turned he held in the palm of his hand a small golden ring with a large emerald embedment. ‘Because of this,’ he said walking back to take his seat. He held it out and Gwendalin plucked it from the skeletal hand.
‘What is it?’
‘Things aren’t what they may seem, Gwen. I know you despise our present King, you’ve never shown any sort of compassion towards him, and though I’ve often tried to convince you to change your mind, I now fear you’ve had the right of it all along in considering Runcorn’s choice foolhardy.’
‘I’ve never said that,’ he couldn’t help the counter, ‘I despise Bartta and I make no secret of it between you and I, and…’ He was going to say more but when he considered, he realised Arrin was right. At the heart of it all he despised his old leader’s decision. ‘What has this ring to do with Bartta?’
‘It is his. I removed it from his chambers earlier. I have watched him close, Gwen, and saw where he hid it and know how often he uses it. It seems you aren’t the only one able to communicate with the outside world.’
Gwendalin’s eyes sprang wide. ‘He’s been contacting Ioni?’
‘No. This is where it gets interesting. I’ve been listening and watching and I now know he’s been talking to an uncle of his. From what I can gather there is another group of magicians, somewhere in the east, near the southern pass of the Ghorran Mountains.’
Learning other magicians had formed a sect he became excited inside, and could not help a smile. He’d always hoped they weren’t the last. It was a topic for later.
‘You mean Hagness Pass, in Quissis? It was, Runcorn and I’s, first choice for a place. A hidden track leads to an old encampment. The area is large enough to build a castle if need be, and I’d be surprised if they haven’t. What have you learned?’
‘Gwen, you surprise me. I’d have thought learning of another group of magicians would have you bouncing from the walls, well, not in your body’s present state, but you know what I mean.’
‘It’s something I‘ve often dreamt of so not a great shock to my imaginary mind. Are they planning anything, Bartta and his uncle?’
‘Not so much as I’ve learned no. I thought you could look through The Orb of Adu and find out.’
‘You’re right, but my windows for being able to do so are limited.’ Arrin grinned. ‘Yes, alright.’
Arrin clasped his hands and rubbed palms. ‘I knew you would see sense, Gwen. I’ll be keeping an eye on Bartta and when I know he is using this ring, I’ll be there hidden where he does not know of my presence. And I can use the orb to find his uncle once I have put Bartta’s blood into it.’
‘No,’ Gwendalin said unable to stop himself snapping, ‘I’d strongly advise against this. It is a consuming orb, Arrin, and once a person’s blood is within it, the person becomes able to feel the presence of the orb in their mind, no matter the distance between. No, I’ll show you another way.’
‘OK, Gwen. And thanks I was hoping you’d see sense once I showed you the ring.’
‘I only do so because we are facing an old battle.’ It was Arrin’s turn to furrow his brow. ‘Gallan is back.’ The words took Arrin from his seat. He wandered back and forth across the room, each time he came back into view his eyes looked lost in thought. His stride changed and he moved a lot faster than when he’d gone to his cloak. This could be the Toga he’d consumed, but Gwendalin thought it was more to do with the severity of the situation.
On his third pass he stopped, spun on his heel and looked directly into Gwendalin’s eyes. Though his body lacked its old posture of a stout, gallant man, his eyes were as young as the day they first met as young men. The age lines of his brow flanked the stern, menacing look of the Arrin he remembered, the Arrin who once led an army of men into the battle of Athenu, to aid the now archangel, Horras De Brin.
The numbers were against them yet when Arrin marched, there was not an army big enough to stop him. They’d stopped Jacquilla of Heasha from entering the border. He’d wanted to extend his lands to incorporate the peninsula.
‘If he is back he must want the city,’ Arrin said before Gwendalin remembered more of the younger Arrin.
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘And does he favour his chances more a second time?’
‘He must or why return.’
‘True, so we must send word to Magdalor and warn them.’
‘I thought of this, and have already instructed Ioni to do so.’
‘Good. They will need time to prepare, and we, well we need to prepare as well.’ Arrin had stood by Runcorn always, and in the move to Ardonia he was sure, as they all were, Runcorn had had the right of it. Yet in the days since Runcorn’s passing, Arrin had been pushing Gwendalin for a move back to the city for all, back to the way things used to be. He had since given up and for a good spell, he’d heard little from Arrin on the subject. This might be all he needed to strike up such conversation again.
‘What should we do, Gwen? Whatever you decide, I’ll stand by you as we both did Runcorn.’
It shook Gwendalin that perhaps his friend wasn’t back after all, but then, he hadn’t heard everything yet and he looked up and told him of what he had seen through the orb, of the gokan numbers and how it looked like Gallan had them under his control and his fear of him using them to gain the city.
Arrin looked aghast at the prospect and had to agree that with their aid the city would fall.
He looked off, distant in contemplation. Then his eyes refocused, ‘We need to gather as many magicians as we can muster. Go to this other sect of magicians and seek an alliance to be rid of the infestation of gokans. Why had this not been done already? Why have the non-magicians not rallied to be rid, like we did with the dragons?’
‘Questions I have pondered myself and to answer them, I’ve no idea. But you are right we may need more magicians now.’ He held up the ring between forefinger and thumb. ‘I’m not sure we need these magicians. We first need to know more about them and in the meantime we need to bring the greenhorns on and show them more of the art of battle magic.’
‘What is wrong with these magicians?’
‘They may be led by Bartta’s uncle, is this not enough for concern?’
‘No, Gwen. I know we should be careful where Bartta is concerned, but his uncle may be different. We should seek to find out all we can about them.’ He was quiet a moment and his stare showed the conversation was tiring him. ‘Do you have any you trust who have no vested interest in the realms, or leadership of any kind?’
‘I can think of one or two, why?’
‘Send them with Bartta on his next outing, if they aren’t already part of the team leading the carts.’
‘Neither of them is but it is fine. I’ll tell Bartta to take one of them with him. He’ll not question my authority.’
‘You can’t be certain of this. No, you should simply ask for any whom you trust who usually goes with Bartta to ask the Keeper on the outside what he knows.’
‘No I have a better idea, I’ll make one of the usual candidates befall an accident, through a brawl or something. Let’s face it there has been so many of late, it won’t look suspicious.’
Arrin nodded and yawned. He was tiring and all this talk was draining him. ‘We may also need Bartta but must be cautious. He is strong for a magician, but lacks the compassion for the position he has been granted. He should be treated as equal after we know what he wants with his uncle, and only if we deem their convergence as neutral, till then we should tell him as little as possible. It could simply be they are keeping in contact as families do, but he, as everyone else, must surely have sworn the oath to shut off his old life and imagine as if it never existed.’
‘I’m sure he did and with this revelation it just proves his untrustworthiness. You are right, we do need all the help we can get, the future of Evania as a whole is at stake, and we know not if he has the skills required in this battle we face.’
Arrin yawned and drew out a long breath. ‘It is settled then, Gwen.’
‘Yes, Arrin, it is.’ He chuckled then and said, ‘we don’t need him anyway, you and I, could lead the people out of here and into battle, all of them.’
‘Oh, come on, Gwen. We are old and fighting is for the young.’
Gwendalin rose and stood fully erect and even though it hurt he did not flinch. ‘You speak for yourself. I’m in the prime of my existence.’ Inside something gave in his lower back and he cussed as he sunk to a seated position.
‘OK, maybe we are a little past the age for battling. But don’t you miss it; the eagerness on the faces of a thousand men ready for the throng, the waiting and anticipation of spilling blood, the cries of taunt across the battlefield.’
‘A little I guess, but not so much as I used to. No, I prefer my own space these days and long for my old mountain.’ His eyes closed and he looked to be remembering, then his body swayed and he almost fell from his perch. He’d fallen asleep and Gwendalin clasped his shoulder as it neared him, waking him.
‘I’m sorry, Gwen,’ he said groggily.
‘Think nothing of it, it is late and I should be getting back to my thrown. Thank you for your council.’
‘Of course, Gwen. You know where I am whenever you need me.’
They nodded and Gwendalin handed back the ring.
Arrin blinked and nodded.
Gwendalin rose, turned and headed for the door and down the spiral staircase.
He liked these moments, when all but a few of Ardonia slept. In front of him lay the House of the Greats. The surrounding wall was only half the size of any he’d seen on the outside, a man could stand upon another’s shoulders and peer over its perimeter. Light from the main fire, thirty paces from him, cast each stone in a bronze glaze, causing shadows to dance across the wall’s face, giving the castle an aggressive look. The air was cooling and with the fire dulling he pulled his cloak tighter against the encroaching chill.
The rest of Ardonia, the cave they’d called home for two centuries lay in darkness.
A servant to the castle emerged. He walked out from the main gate carrying more logs for the fire. He was of slim build and the overbearing weight made his body taut and his legs unsteady.
Gwendalin’s pipe lay in his lap packed ready for use. The embedded ruby at its base began to glow a deep and vibrant scarlet. Five times it’d done the same and five times he’d ignored her. He’d come here as much to be rid of the outside world as to aid and protect magicians. What is it you wish of me this time?
He closed his eyes, reached down and thumbed the smooth jewel.
‘Ioni,’ he said in his mind.
‘Gwendalin!’ She sounded eager and concerned, with a hint of fear. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.’
‘Really, I didn’t realise I’d been away that long. I was…’
She cut him off abruptly. ‘We have a problem. He is back.’
‘What!’ He heard her every word and knew full well who she’d meant. ‘Are you absolutely certain?’
‘I saw him with my own eyes. I thought we’d seen the last of him and hoped he’d never come back. It appears I was wrong and his desire for the lands is great. He has already been to see Fargo and was there for quite some time. I’m worried Gwendalin.’
‘And so you should be. He will undoubtedly make another bid for the city. You must warn them, tell them to prepare. We were lucky last time. We caught up with him before they were even aware of his intentions. This time, I am sure he will be more aware of us and be more discrete in his actions. He’s had time to plan and will be eager to put it to full use.’
‘I will have him followed, and his whereabouts recorded at all times.’
‘That is a good start. But we need to ready ourselves for every eventuality. I will think on this and get back to you.’
He removed his thumb from the jewel before Ioni could answer. Gallan was back for one reason and one reason alone: the natural, a magician born of magic far out-weighing any other. He struck a match and put it to the tobacco. Inhaling deeply allowed his mind to ease, yet he couldn’t quell the impending doom about to befall the outside. Once Gallan had found and consumed the magic of a natural, he’d be that much stronger and defeating him became that much more out of reach. With his magical Source gained in strength, he’d make a pass for the city. Gallan wished to rule and the only way to do so was for him to take control of the City of Magdalor which lay at the heart of all Evania.
Gwendalin needed followers, and followers he could trust. The magicians of old were slowly dying out, time having caught up with the best of them. Gwendalin was one of only a handful left to remember the days when the realm was wholesome and rich. He could still hear the sound of ships blasting their horns in the distance, as they came and went along the River Aida.
Another long pull on his pipe removed him from his reverie. Bartta must be told, but not yet. He had his suspicions of the so called king, and needed to know where his loyalties stood. He had to be sure he wouldn’t rush off seeking an allegiance with the rogue, now that he had returned. And they needed to keep their whereabouts removed from Gallan as much as possible, any good fight was best fought from a distance and from the shadows, and with pure allies, ones he himself knew well. It had only been by chance Gallan’s previous attempt was fought off whilst Gwendalin was within the castle of the city. No, only those he trusted would be told and this time things would be different.
Ioni was the key. She was the link between this world and the next. The archangels kept watch and through her ensured the balance of all things. Gallan should be with them, but he’d managed to avoid departing life and prolonged his time by use of an elf weed. His reason for staying was to do the one thing he’d been unable to accomplish in his many years of life, to rule, to be King of all Evania.
˜
For two sleeps, as they’d come to call what they used to regard as night, he’d kept Ioni’s warning to himself. He’d sat upon his throne and watched the norm of events taking place, the constant chatter of magicians and non-magicians as each got on with cleaning and the bringing of water from the Pool Cave, in barrels, to their honkas and wall mounted leaf pods. The sounds of child’s play in the recreation area to the right of the castle, was dimmed by the occasional clap of magic from the schools in the south.
To his right, the Morhouse stood, behind it the barrels kept for excrement lay fermenting. The full ones were usually lined ready loading in the cart, none had been and it seemed they had been un-thought of. The smell was beginning to waft his way. He placed a hand within his cloak and removed a cotton kerchief and placed it over his nose and mouth. On Bartta’s next outing, he’d be sure to remind the king of their fullness and remind him to have them removed. Or he’d send a young lad to Bartta to have it done sooner if the smell persisted.
Taking a pull on his pipe, the tobacco had burnt out. He was about to strike a match when the ruby came to life and pulsed.
Ioni spoke before he could say her name. ‘You are well.’
‘As well as any man could be who’s carrying such a burden as I.’
‘We are all sorry for that, but you do it so well.’
‘My lady is too kind.’
‘Not at all, you are like a farmer guarding a valuable stock.’
‘I guess I think of them as such.’
It was the usual formality. One which Gwendalin was growing tired. After a momentary pause, Ioni would always get to the matter at hand.
‘I am afraid things have become more urgent. Gokans have been growing in their numbers and I fear they are working with Gallan.’
‘You think Gallan will use them to gain back the city?’
‘Perhaps, but I fear far more. They have been seen entering the Cave of Osuntah.’
‘The dragons cave. Surely that isn’t so surprising. Perhaps the dragon has found a way to lure them there to save you the trouble.’
‘They have been seen leaving as well, and their stay is long enough to make us suspicious. Besides, I make sure that Fargo is fed well.’
He wondered how she was certain of the appetite of someone as large as Fargo, but didn’t say. ‘Even so, what possible treacheries could come of their convergence?’
‘What other than the dragon seeing the use of magic. And if gokans are working with Gallan, then they will surely tell him of what they learn.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We believe that gokans can read minds too. And if they see what the dragon sees, then Gallan will learn of where to find magicians.’
‘That is not possible Ioni. We are bound never to use our tricks for this very reason.’
‘You don’t understand. If the dragon can read minds as we think he can, then he will already know where you are for he will have read from my mind. And if he knows, he will convey such to the gokans, and if they know, they may find a way of telling, Gallan. They aren’t talking yet but are evolving all the time.
‘I try and hide my thoughts as much as I can, but I’m still learning. I keep my visits to a minimum, but I’m not fully taught in the powers of the dragon.’
‘You are still in voice with the other three, have they not taught you how?’
‘No. They have tried but I lack the ability where dragons are concerned. I am reading extensively in our great library, but the books reveal very little of their mind tricks.’
She may have been the voice to the archangels, but she sometimes needed his guidance as much as theirs. Even when they were alive, they were not always the best mentors in earthly matters. He’d told her this often and she never protested when he offered his guidance.
‘Then might I suggest you keep away for a time. I take it you leave the feeding to others?’
‘Yes. I have hunters of a sort do it for me, but I have been told it is wise to keep his council.’
‘The archangels will have their reasons. I wonder if they see him as a tool to be used later.’
‘Perhaps.’ He considered his next words a moment. Ioni spoke before he could answer. ‘I will seek their guidance on the matter. For now I will see Fargo at my usual interval, else he will want to know why I have been absent.’
‘As you wish, but I strongly recommend his avoidance, at least until you have learned how to hide your mind from his.’
‘I will do what I can. Thank you. In return I must ask something of you.’
‘You can ask what you will, and if it is within my power I will oblige as ever.’
‘You know Gallan used the, Elf-weed Toga.’
‘The life extending elf-weed?’ The knowledge of Toga and its uses were not news to him: he kept up a pretense from time to time to make Ioni feel more important.
‘The very same. It doesn’t last for ever, and I have made sure the elves do not allow him access to more. His time is running short and his eagerness to find a natural grows by the day. You have to double your efforts to stop the use of magic, even in the two schools. If Gallan gets a hint of the whereabouts of magicians, you can be sure he will investigate, and with force. He wants to rule, and he knows others will be in his path to stop him, so he must rid the lands of all higher magicians or leaders within the realms. He can’t do so alone and the archangels say there is a magician, a natural, who has equal strength to Gallan. If the two meet, there will be no stopping either of them gaining what they want. These sorts of naturals are born once every two hundred years and you know, the last was that small child who no one knew about until it was too late.’ Gwendalin had known this, had always known but didn’t say. ‘They also believe Gallan knows this and knows his equal is at large, somewhere. He needs to find his equal, now before it is too late. Nothing will get in his way once he knows where he might be, and I’m afraid Lord Bartta would not stand a chance against him.’
‘Bartta would yield, and side with him I am sure, if only to save his own neck. There would be no need for Gallan to kill him.’
‘Gallan won’t take the risk. Besides, you know the sort of man Lord Bartta is. He would likely find a way to over throw Gallan.’
‘Impossible. Yes you are right about Bartta, he can be manipulative and people find themselves powerless in his company, but Gallan is fearless.’
‘You are probably right Gwendalin, but probably isn’t so. Do us all a favour and put an end to the teachings, at least for a while.’
He furrowed his brow at the mention of stopping the teachings. She was wrong, they had to keep the teachings to be certain no un-tapped one would lose control. They only taught small uses of magic, enough to allow control and keep it from seeping out of its own accord. To stop them would be of great risk.
‘As you wish my lady,’ he said with complete conviction, knowing full well he would not.
‘Again thank you. Rest well Gwendalin.’
‘And to you. Thank you for your council.’
‘And yours.’
Removing his thumb from the jewel, he lifted the pipe to his lips. With his cupped hand he sent a spark of heat to the tobacco: little uses of magic like this were fine, he could keep his use of magic hidden, besides what little he needed to light his tobac he was sure Fargo wouldn’t see. Inhaling the smoke into his lungs, he held it before letting out a white plume into the dank air. As always he relayed all that Ioni had told him in his mind, every word. A gift he had been granted at birth. There was always something missed during any conversation.
She had said, “Gallan would know where to find magicians,” the second time of mentioning. Why had she not said, “Where to find you?” as she had previously said. This suggested a slip of her concentration, and motioned that others had survived the onslaughts of the non-magicians. Why be so secretive, why not just tell him. He’d often thought of all others as dead. Was this her way of telling him his suspicions were false? Were there other magicians roaming the land, maybe even gathered in a place not unlike this?
He had to know, but asking her was risky, for this wasn’t the first time he’d questioned how much she was telling him, or whether she was telling him the whole truth. But why shouldn’t she keep things to herself, he after all kept things from her.
She’d asked him to stem the teachings in the schools, but he wouldn’t. This would only spark curiosity and he’d have to explain the danger now facing those outside which he wasn’t prepared to do. Outbreaks of fighting within Ardonia had reached higher levels of late and he didn’t want to give cause for more fits of fury.
As he blew out a smoke ring, he thought back to a time when dragons ruled the skies. He remembered the first time he ever encountered one. It had soured through the air and on passing, images had flittered through his mind, of eating and burning and smashing things with claw and tail. These were the dragon’s thoughts, he’d known, what gave him pause for thought was whether he’d picked up on them, or the dragon had placed them in his head. Time, as ever, had served a great adversary, and now he knew better. The dragons could not only read your thoughts but impute their own in your mind and from a distance, even from higher than the highest clouds. They could control your thoughts, to the extent of starting wars, simply for the dragons’ amusement. Yes those days were better behind him, far better.
Another pull on his pipe and the exhalation brought his mind back. What was Gallan up to? Going to see Fargo would suggest he means to free the dragon and if that were to happen, they’d all be back two hundred years, and fears would rise in all. OK if you lived in a cave, apart. It was those on the outside who’d suffer and without aid of magicians, would perish.
The gokans, the half-dragon half-man creatures, were going to see Fargo, which could only mean something was brewing. But what? And why had nothing been done about them? Why had nothing been done to rid the lands of the grotesquerie’s? Whatever their reasons for visiting Fargo, they had to be dealt with and soon.
No, Gwendalin, it seems your time is not done yet. There are too many lives at risk for you to sit idly by and watch. He got up from his throne, clenched the pipe in his jaw and walked around. This always aided his concentration and he found walking exercised his brain and plotting and planning came in a fluent trot.
The Old Lady would know a way of disposing of the gokans. It had been her sister, after all, who’d given them life to begin with, by way of amalgamating human with dragon DNA. If anyone she was the one to know how best to kill them. And if she didn’t know the way, her sister would. How to get her alone? That apprentice of hers, what was her name, Lynda, or Celina, or something, she was a nuisance and he didn’t like her. She had a look about her, a troublesome, meddlesome look and he didn’t think her worthy of trust, certainly not his.
Did he trust Ioni? Not entirely, she was good for keeping a bridge to the archangels, but she wasn’t very bright and was always worrying over something and sometimes overstated things. He didn't disbelieve her word, but how much wasn’t he telling her, how much had she failed to mention? There was only one thing for it, he’d have to use the Black Orb of Adu, and seek the wholeness of the truth.
He had to be cautious. Drawing too much attention would result in questions being raised. Connecting with Ioni’s mind was something he did whilst feigning sleep. Walking around Ardonia, whilst everyone was awake and aware was something he didn’t do, no, he’d have to wait and once everyone or most were in their honka asleep, only then would he learn the truth.
˜
All was quiet except for the unharmonious sounds of snoring men, women and children. He sat on his throne waiting. The nearest tower of the castle was the empty one, behind it was Arrin’s. To the left of this, the south-west tower resided Lady Chiara and closer to Gwendalin, the fourth tower was Bartta’s. Lady Chiara’s and the empty tower were in darkness. Light in Bartta’s rooms winked out and Arrin, though the skin had been pulled down, had his torch still flickering. Gwendalin sat a while, scanning every direction he could without looking up to the walls behind. No one stirred. Something changed ahead and he snapped his eyes to Arrin’s tower. The light within dimmed momentarily before coming back, once, twice and then a third time, a sign he needed to talk.
He’d have to wait.
He rose having judged enough time had lapsed for Bartta to be deep in sleep, and walked a steady pace towards the north corner of the castle wall. As he stepped down to ground level, his mind relaxed from the Gateway, any who wished to find it in his absence would, but during sleep it was less of a risk as those he’d known all over Evania would be resting and never allowed passage at night.
Following the path of the north wall, he passed the row of the leaf-weavers’ tables and soon found the large boulder which hid the entryway down into the tunnel beneath the castle. Though he was able to keep his Gateway hidden from all outside, if anyone did find their way through, this was where Bartta and Lady Chiara would make their escape, waiting for any intruders to be among the castle before making a dash for
him and to freedom beyond the Gateway.
He stepped round it, crouched and disappeared inside.
He ignored the torch and reached into the Source within his mind to create his own light. A globe of blue, no bigger than his balled fist, appeared at his fingertips. He sent it ahead of himself to illuminate the passage. Little light gems as these did not emit enough energy for Fargo to see, besides, he’d mastered the ability to hide his own use of magic.
Rounding a corner and then another he soon found himself in the open and emptiness below the castle. Pillars in straight lines, four rows of five spaced ten strides apart, covered the floor making it hard to be sure he was alone. He stopped, dispelled the light gem and listened. No light, no voices, nothing. He created another blue globe and resumed his walk staying close to the north wall. This had become storage for unused items and boxes were piled to waist height, dust had built up on most and some of the youngsters had been here, and sketched fortresses and stickmen and flags. They’d been quite creative and over three boxes had sketched whole battlements and garrisons, deep in a foray.
At the far end, more boxes. He set to work to move some aside with precise easy movements to keep the dust in place on each box. Soon he had a clear path to retrieve a small plain looking tattered wooden box at the back of the pile. He leant and picked it up.
It was free of dust, and it felt weighted in his hands. Turning he saw movement and stopped, pulled the box to his stomach as if someone was there to steal it. Watching back in the direction of the exit he could see nothing and sent his light globe to investigate. It floated between the pillars to the far corner. ‘Who’s there?’ No answer. Bringing the light globe back the other way revealed nothing, yet he wasn’t convinced of his solitude. ‘I see you there, come out.’ Nothing moved. He sent his light globe round twice more, all the time watching the same pillar he’d been sure he’d seen movement. ‘Come out, I know you’re there.’ Nothing.
Old fool. You’re seeing things in your bid for concealment.
He dropped his gaze and gave the box his attention. Removing the lid revealed the black silk which he moved to one side. With his light globe hovering behind his left shoulder, his face reflected in the smooth texture of the orb. He stood on aching joints, unwilling to leave an impression in the dust on the boxes. The bones within his feet ached as if there was no muscle between them and the hard surface. His back though, felt good. He could use his magic to stem the pain, but the use of Healer magic used too much energy and Fargo would notice.
He shifted his weight, his lower back cranked into a new position, shooting pain up through his spinal column. How had he gotten himself here, unable to use his magic to ease his aging body? Oh yes, for the good of the realms he reminded himself. It would all be over once Gallan was sent to Hardesia to be with his archangel kin, and they’d be able to walk the land once more. This couldn’t come soon enough, yet, as in all things, it would take time and proper planning.
Pushing all thoughts aside, he looked deep into the orb. It was connected to him now and new of his presence. He had no need to remove it from its box, merely uncovering it was enough for the magic within to reach out. The black shine faded to a grey mist, turning paler. ‘Show me Gallan,’ he whispered, ‘be his eyes.’
For an age nothing changed. He remained still, then with abrupt speed the orb cleared and he saw a scarlet sky. He had to be quick, too long and Gallan would feel the intrusion. As the visual came back to earth, many faces looked at him, dragon faces on the shoulders of burly muscular up standing creatures with wings held close behind their backs. Gokans. He’d only imagined these from what Ioni had told him, now seeing them for the first time they looked fearsome, gruesome and hungry for a challenge. They were staring straight at him with concentration in their eyes. Was Gallan addressing them? Was this even possible? If only the orb allowed him to hear or at least allow him to know what the other was thinking. There had been an orb of such properties once, but it had long ago disappeared and he had no way of knowing if it still existed. He doubted it.
The visual moved and scanned a span of many bodies, thousands of, blue and green Gokans. All in rows and columns and as one they all dropped their maws and by their look, roared in eagerness or anticipation or agreement. It was only natural that with the lack of dragons in the skies, these gokans would rise in vast numbers. Gallan had enough before him to take the city by force, but what did they stand to gain by such an undertaking and allegiance with Gallan? What had he offered them, full reign of the lands and sanctuary within the walls of the city? Preposterous. The visual spun and lifted, he met the eyes of another Gokan, a red one. Its scaled head looked twice the size of any man’s. A row of jagged teeth lined the top and bottom of its maw, two fang-like teeth, longer than his little finger hung like daggers at the end of a snout which looked to protrude farther than any of the green or blue gokans did. The red had a blood shot stare, so fierce looking its eyes pierced and Gwendalin almost dropped the orb in its presence.
He’d faced Fargo only once in his life and never wanted to see him or any other dragon ever again. Looking through the orb at the figure, he was reminded why. The dragons had been a menacing looking creature and they horrified him.
He’d seen enough and withdrew his concentration. Ioni had every right to be worried. Once the orb had returned to its black sheen and he saw his reflection once more, he covered it and closed the lid on the box which housed it.
He’d thought by what Ioni had told him their numbers were great. Having seen the scene within his orb, he now knew they were far greater in number. Had he seen the extent of this or were there more? How the city and its dwellers had remained intact was beyond him, and why hadn’t the non-magicians sought to rid the lands of their filth? There was only one thing to do, consult with his old friend Arrin, together they would find the cure to the problem. There was no way he was going to assign this to Bartta, for he’d simply brush it off and consider it none of their business. Perhaps he needed someone to go with Bartta on his next outing, someone he trusted to consult with the city’s present King on his behalf.
After replacing the box to its hidden position, he carefully put all other boxes exactly as he’d found them, taking his time so as not to let the dust fall from them. Satisfied he headed to the exit.
Before he got halfway along the tunnel he stopped. What struck him was Gallan had been communicating with the gokans. Ioni had said they couldn’t talk, yet there was Gallan seemingly addressing them. This was bad, very bad.
˜
The walk up the spiral stair was tiresome, twice he’d stopped to catch his breath. It was as if someone had made the tower taller since his last visit and the climb’s end seemed unobtainable.
At the top he walked through the leather curtain and into Arrin’s living chamber. This was a simple room, a small layout with an easy chair next to the fireplace opposite, a counter for preparing meals running along the wall to his left and a table and two chairs to his right. A second floor, accessed by five steep stairs to the right of the fire was only large enough for a simple single bed and small wardrobe. Arrin sat perched on the edge of a wooden stool, with his back to him, stooped over an open book which overlapped the two berth table by a couple of bookmarks at either end.
He was a seedy man with bent over posture and never ventured from the castle often if at all. He didn’t like to be around people, though you wouldn’t think it knowing his background. And had only come here following Runcorn. After their former king’s death he had pleaded twice to be allowed back to his secluded mountain home, but Gwendalin had denied him, asking he stay a while as he had use of his old friend’s council. Which was not a complete lie: he did have need of the other, but hated the thought of him being cut off from everyone and being alone. Arrin was a good man to have around for he was one of those who if he believed he was of some assistance and felt needed, was tickled and did everything he could to please.
He looked up and over his shoulder as Gwendalin approached and made to rise. Gwendalin gestured he remain where he was and moved past him to the hearth and placed a hand close to the pot for boiling water, it felt warm. The fire had been left to die out, small pieces of wood still glowed and it wouldn’t take much to rekindle.
‘I boiled it before I gave the signal. You should have come straight away if you had wanted a hot coffee.’ Arrin’s voice sounded raspy as if he’d smoked too many pipes in anticipation of his arrival.
‘This won’t take much to get going I’ll just throw on another log or two.’
‘No,’ Arrin said, ‘I will be retiring after you leave and I’m always afraid to leave the fire until it’s completely extinguished.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll be here a while and be sure no embers glow before I leave.’
He set to work without further protest and soon had the pot boiled. He worked to prepare two mugs at the counter and with Arrin unable to see he slipped a small vial from within his cloak, removed its stopple and let a pinch of the powder pour out into the mug he’d give to Arrin. The vial’s contents had been prepared by the Old Lady and was a simple mix of dried leaf from the Hospra Plant of Arthenu, Karra Plant from Quissis, and a touch of Bangorla, a tree moss from the northern helm of Saint Lorfan for making anything tasteless – scarce to come by since the turning of the land to waste, all mixed with Toga Weed.
Soon he was seated across from his friend at the table. The book, sprawled across the entire surface made it impossible to leave a hot mug within Arrin’s easy reach. He held it and sipped its contents whilst still studying the book’s pages.
‘What are you looking at this old thing for? You should know it backwards by now.’
‘I was just revising a few aspects of Ooruntor. The mind never hurts from a little revision and refreshment of things from time to time.’
‘We haven’t used that word in centuries. I wish you would become more contemporary and call it what it is, the use of orbs, and why should you be refreshing your mind? You don’t have one and my mind is pure and has no need of reanimation.’
‘I know that, Gwen, it’s just I get bored and I do wish you would allow me to look after yours. You know it’ll be quite safe up here.’ The way he spoke Gwendalin knew he was trying to sound uninterested, yet failed.
‘So that’s it. You want mine to give you something to do. You never were good at subtlety.’
‘That’s not the reason I want it, I merely wish to keep it safe for you. I told you I’m getting bored and just wanted something to read. I know you are well experienced in Ooruntor, or if you like the use of orbs. I just needed to do something. Besides, I could aid you by using the orb whenever I wanted. Let’s face it no one comes up here save you.’
Gwendalin furrowed his brow. Arrin had a point. Gwendalin had to be careful when he used the orb. Up here Arrin was quite alone and could do so anytime he wished. He wasn’t ready to admit this to Arrin. ‘And why would I have need of your aid? Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it.’
Arrin got up on shaking legs and moved across the room at a slow pace, so slow it was hard to see movement at all. He rummaged inside his cloak. When he turned he held in the palm of his hand a small golden ring with a large emerald embedment. ‘Because of this,’ he said walking back to take his seat. He held it out and Gwendalin plucked it from the skeletal hand.
‘What is it?’
‘Things aren’t what they may seem, Gwen. I know you despise our present King, you’ve never shown any sort of compassion towards him, and though I’ve often tried to convince you to change your mind, I now fear you’ve had the right of it all along in considering Runcorn’s choice foolhardy.’
‘I’ve never said that,’ he couldn’t help the counter, ‘I despise Bartta and I make no secret of it between you and I, and…’ He was going to say more but when he considered, he realised Arrin was right. At the heart of it all he despised his old leader’s decision. ‘What has this ring to do with Bartta?’
‘It is his. I removed it from his chambers earlier. I have watched him close, Gwen, and saw where he hid it and know how often he uses it. It seems you aren’t the only one able to communicate with the outside world.’
Gwendalin’s eyes sprang wide. ‘He’s been contacting Ioni?’
‘No. This is where it gets interesting. I’ve been listening and watching and I now know he’s been talking to an uncle of his. From what I can gather there is another group of magicians, somewhere in the east, near the southern pass of the Ghorran Mountains.’
Learning other magicians had formed a sect he became excited inside, and could not help a smile. He’d always hoped they weren’t the last. It was a topic for later.
‘You mean Hagness Pass, in Quissis? It was, Runcorn and I’s, first choice for a place. A hidden track leads to an old encampment. The area is large enough to build a castle if need be, and I’d be surprised if they haven’t. What have you learned?’
‘Gwen, you surprise me. I’d have thought learning of another group of magicians would have you bouncing from the walls, well, not in your body’s present state, but you know what I mean.’
‘It’s something I‘ve often dreamt of so not a great shock to my imaginary mind. Are they planning anything, Bartta and his uncle?’
‘Not so much as I’ve learned no. I thought you could look through The Orb of Adu and find out.’
‘You’re right, but my windows for being able to do so are limited.’ Arrin grinned. ‘Yes, alright.’
Arrin clasped his hands and rubbed palms. ‘I knew you would see sense, Gwen. I’ll be keeping an eye on Bartta and when I know he is using this ring, I’ll be there hidden where he does not know of my presence. And I can use the orb to find his uncle once I have put Bartta’s blood into it.’
‘No,’ Gwendalin said unable to stop himself snapping, ‘I’d strongly advise against this. It is a consuming orb, Arrin, and once a person’s blood is within it, the person becomes able to feel the presence of the orb in their mind, no matter the distance between. No, I’ll show you another way.’
‘OK, Gwen. And thanks I was hoping you’d see sense once I showed you the ring.’
‘I only do so because we are facing an old battle.’ It was Arrin’s turn to furrow his brow. ‘Gallan is back.’ The words took Arrin from his seat. He wandered back and forth across the room, each time he came back into view his eyes looked lost in thought. His stride changed and he moved a lot faster than when he’d gone to his cloak. This could be the Toga he’d consumed, but Gwendalin thought it was more to do with the severity of the situation.
On his third pass he stopped, spun on his heel and looked directly into Gwendalin’s eyes. Though his body lacked its old posture of a stout, gallant man, his eyes were as young as the day they first met as young men. The age lines of his brow flanked the stern, menacing look of the Arrin he remembered, the Arrin who once led an army of men into the battle of Athenu, to aid the now archangel, Horras De Brin.
The numbers were against them yet when Arrin marched, there was not an army big enough to stop him. They’d stopped Jacquilla of Heasha from entering the border. He’d wanted to extend his lands to incorporate the peninsula.
‘If he is back he must want the city,’ Arrin said before Gwendalin remembered more of the younger Arrin.
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘And does he favour his chances more a second time?’
‘He must or why return.’
‘True, so we must send word to Magdalor and warn them.’
‘I thought of this, and have already instructed Ioni to do so.’
‘Good. They will need time to prepare, and we, well we need to prepare as well.’ Arrin had stood by Runcorn always, and in the move to Ardonia he was sure, as they all were, Runcorn had had the right of it. Yet in the days since Runcorn’s passing, Arrin had been pushing Gwendalin for a move back to the city for all, back to the way things used to be. He had since given up and for a good spell, he’d heard little from Arrin on the subject. This might be all he needed to strike up such conversation again.
‘What should we do, Gwen? Whatever you decide, I’ll stand by you as we both did Runcorn.’
It shook Gwendalin that perhaps his friend wasn’t back after all, but then, he hadn’t heard everything yet and he looked up and told him of what he had seen through the orb, of the gokan numbers and how it looked like Gallan had them under his control and his fear of him using them to gain the city.
Arrin looked aghast at the prospect and had to agree that with their aid the city would fall.
He looked off, distant in contemplation. Then his eyes refocused, ‘We need to gather as many magicians as we can muster. Go to this other sect of magicians and seek an alliance to be rid of the infestation of gokans. Why had this not been done already? Why have the non-magicians not rallied to be rid, like we did with the dragons?’
‘Questions I have pondered myself and to answer them, I’ve no idea. But you are right we may need more magicians now.’ He held up the ring between forefinger and thumb. ‘I’m not sure we need these magicians. We first need to know more about them and in the meantime we need to bring the greenhorns on and show them more of the art of battle magic.’
‘What is wrong with these magicians?’
‘They may be led by Bartta’s uncle, is this not enough for concern?’
‘No, Gwen. I know we should be careful where Bartta is concerned, but his uncle may be different. We should seek to find out all we can about them.’ He was quiet a moment and his stare showed the conversation was tiring him. ‘Do you have any you trust who have no vested interest in the realms, or leadership of any kind?’
‘I can think of one or two, why?’
‘Send them with Bartta on his next outing, if they aren’t already part of the team leading the carts.’
‘Neither of them is but it is fine. I’ll tell Bartta to take one of them with him. He’ll not question my authority.’
‘You can’t be certain of this. No, you should simply ask for any whom you trust who usually goes with Bartta to ask the Keeper on the outside what he knows.’
‘No I have a better idea, I’ll make one of the usual candidates befall an accident, through a brawl or something. Let’s face it there has been so many of late, it won’t look suspicious.’
Arrin nodded and yawned. He was tiring and all this talk was draining him. ‘We may also need Bartta but must be cautious. He is strong for a magician, but lacks the compassion for the position he has been granted. He should be treated as equal after we know what he wants with his uncle, and only if we deem their convergence as neutral, till then we should tell him as little as possible. It could simply be they are keeping in contact as families do, but he, as everyone else, must surely have sworn the oath to shut off his old life and imagine as if it never existed.’
‘I’m sure he did and with this revelation it just proves his untrustworthiness. You are right, we do need all the help we can get, the future of Evania as a whole is at stake, and we know not if he has the skills required in this battle we face.’
Arrin yawned and drew out a long breath. ‘It is settled then, Gwen.’
‘Yes, Arrin, it is.’ He chuckled then and said, ‘we don’t need him anyway, you and I, could lead the people out of here and into battle, all of them.’
‘Oh, come on, Gwen. We are old and fighting is for the young.’
Gwendalin rose and stood fully erect and even though it hurt he did not flinch. ‘You speak for yourself. I’m in the prime of my existence.’ Inside something gave in his lower back and he cussed as he sunk to a seated position.
‘OK, maybe we are a little past the age for battling. But don’t you miss it; the eagerness on the faces of a thousand men ready for the throng, the waiting and anticipation of spilling blood, the cries of taunt across the battlefield.’
‘A little I guess, but not so much as I used to. No, I prefer my own space these days and long for my old mountain.’ His eyes closed and he looked to be remembering, then his body swayed and he almost fell from his perch. He’d fallen asleep and Gwendalin clasped his shoulder as it neared him, waking him.
‘I’m sorry, Gwen,’ he said groggily.
‘Think nothing of it, it is late and I should be getting back to my thrown. Thank you for your council.’
‘Of course, Gwen. You know where I am whenever you need me.’
They nodded and Gwendalin handed back the ring.
Arrin blinked and nodded.
Gwendalin rose, turned and headed for the door and down the spiral staircase.
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter from the world of Evania. Ahead of the release of this title, you may want to read a short story from the same world. Check out The Little Miracle (Link Below)
