A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) (25 page)

H
is heart lightened by the speed of the ship, Tallen spent the next several days enjoying the last leg of their voyage. With a steady breeze pulling them along, the well-manicured fields, manors, and towns of the Eastern Realm flew by. Murky swamps eventually passed along the southern banks when the
River Spike
neared the confluence with the fast, deep waters of the Graybourne Fork.

He stood on deck and watched a large flotilla of commercial ships gathered where the rivers met, some switching channels, while others sought the harbors of Forksmeet. They moved about like little toys engaged in an intricate dance. Each knew the steps by heart, as did the captain of the
River Spike
.

The three green trees on gold of House Bahalan fluttered from the tall towers rambling along the southern bank of the Andon and the eastern bank of the Graybourne. When they neared the city, Boris ordered a boat let over the side. A Bluecloak sailor hopped on board, and the earl handed him a leather tube, one that Tallen knew carried a message for Baron Dandric.

“The attack in Bridgedale could not be kept quiet, like the one in Gavanor,” Jaerd said, watching the sailor heave against the oars of his dinghy. “Earl Boris issued a similar message to Baron Wilis before we left Bridgedale. What I wouldn’t give to hear what he had to say to them. I just hope he didn’t mention you.”

Tallen shifted, uneasy. “Why would he?”

Jaerd kept his eyes on the messenger, and his voice remained level. “You’re the one the orcs are hunting.”

Looking down to see his whitened knuckles gripping the rail, Tallen forced himself to take deep breaths. Gradually, his hands released their death grip.

The Andon River slowed to a lazy pace and spread over two miles wide once it took on the waters of Graybourne Fork. The sailors spread all their canvas before the wind, and the
River Spike
shot past slower, heavier ships. Tallen watched the northern shore roll away in the distance, sloping uphill toward centuries-old, manicured farms that checkered the land. In a few places, the clustered buildings of a town broke the checkerboard. The southern shore crowded less, with only a few villages to break up the stretches of wild, swampy forests. In some places, aspen, cypress, and cottonwood spread their branches over the water wherever they could find refuge from human expansion.

As with every morning on the boat, Magus Britt called upon him early and dragged him out to meditate near the prow before they ate their breakfast. Tallen could not touch his power, only sense it, let it roil in the back of his mind. It tempted him, but the pain and fear of his mistake at Bridgedale remained a sturdy bulwark against his power’s temptation.
I must learn control
.

When the evening sun sank toward the river, Magus Britt summoned him again. This time the mage let him touch his power, teaching him different uses for each Aspect. Tallen froze and boiled parts of the river with Fire and Water, careful to keep the two Aspects separate in his mind. Magus Britt helped him refine his use of lightning, too. A bolt flashed across the water, skipping across its surface like a well-cast stone.

Magus Britt raised an eyebrow. “Few mages with enough strength in Fire can also call upon the Water needed to set off lightning. I can barely do it myself. You, my boy, do not have that problem.”

Tallen rubbed his hand. It still tingled from the bolt. “What can I do with the Psoul Aspect?”

The Bluecloak mage grimaced. “I knew you would ask that in time. I have very few answers for you.” Magus Britt left the railing and waved for Tallen to follow him. He took a seat on a water barrel. “While I did once visit the Dreamrealm, it was not through my power. However, dreaming is not the only power tied to the Psoul Aspect. It may also be used to create illusions, or to…enter the minds of others. Some say it is the most powerful Aspect.” The mage sounded reticent, as if uncertain how much he should tell Tallen. “There are others on the Isle far better versed in this than I. Though the only Dreamer I know still alive would likely never set foot there of his own free will.”

Something about the mage’s tone made Tallen lean closer. “Who is that?”

Magus Britt’s bushy eyebrows closed together. “He is commonly known as the Ravenhawke.”

A tingle of excitement shot up Tallen’s spine, not so unlike the bolt of lightning. “Dorias Ravenhawke? The man who wrote
The Tarmorian Bestiary
? That book is in the library at the Gryphon.”

The Battlemage barked a harsh laugh. “That thing is still in print?” The laugh faded while Magus Britt stared at the passing river. “It’s probably the only one of his writings to survive the breaking of the Wizard’s Circle. Everything else was destroyed when he and his fellows were declared rogue.”

“So he is the only one who could teach me about the Psoul Aspect – why is it so different from the others?”

The mage adjusted his cloak. “What do you mean by ‘different’? Each Aspect is unique.”

Tallen searched for the words to describe what he meant. “Well, it’s like this – you always describe the five Aspects as if they were the points of a star. It is well known that the pentagram is a symbol for magic.”

Magus Britt nodded. “Go on.”

“But, it’s not quite like that for me.” Tallen stared at his hands, his mind working ahead of his mouth. “Psoul stands out. I almost have to reach around it – or maybe through it – to get to the other Aspects. Rather than a point of a star, it’s…it’s almost like the center of a circle.”

Magus Britt blinked, and for a moment the color drained from his face. Tallen shivered as the last of the sun dropped below the horizon, and he searched for another way to explain himself.

“That’s enough,” Magus Britt held up his hand, his face unreadable. “That’s precisely the kind of talk the Ravenhawke started decades ago. It ended with thirteen wizards abandoning the Circle.” The mage shook his head, his age showing more heavily on his features. “Do not say that again, especially not in the presence of Varana Calais, if she teaches you.” He stood and walked away. “Damn fool rogues.”

Tallen watched his teacher, shocked at his reaction. The mage said nothing more to him as he stalked to the boat’s cabin.

I’d best keep my ideas to myself…for now.

The next morning the Andon began to branch. The
River Spike’s
pilot kept her to the northernmost passage at each fork. The banks became crowded with townhomes and docks, manors and inns. A few houses and orchards scattered across sparsely populated islands, one or two with a single manse and dock. Most of the sandbars and islands looked rather temporary, shifting with the constant change of flowing water.

Tallen had not seen much of Maddi during the voyage, so it surprised him when she wordlessly joined him at the prow. They watched the traffic and the people on the shore slip by. Pink river dolphins cruised alongside. Few words passed between the two of them. Tallen simply enjoyed standing near her, breathing in the jasmine scent of her hair carried on the breeze. He placed his hand precariously close to hers on the rail.

She leaned in and nudged his shoulder with hers. “I bet you could mess with the wind in some of those old ship captains’ sails.” Maddi’s lips curled in a mischievous grin. “It might be funny to see a few of them bump into each other.”

“I don’t think that would fit into Magus Britt’s idea of self-control,” Tallen told her.

Maddi laughed. “Don’t give me such a sour look. I’m just kidding.” She leaned closer to the rail. “But it would be funny.”

He gave in to her grin with one of his own. “Maybe.”

They watched a cluster of rocky hills rise in the northeast. They sparkled in the afternoon sun, covered in an unimaginable maze of buildings. As the boat came closer to the great capital of Daynon, Tallen picked out small palaces sprawling on the peaks of each hill, while a circular pattern of gradually smaller structures disappeared into the valleys. Brawny, his front paws set upon the railing, stuck his nose into the air. His chest pumped like a bellows, sniffing everything that wafted up from the river. Along the edge, hundreds of piers and docks stretched toward the Bay of Hope.

The famed Ivory Palace set upon the last hill, nestled in the corner between the northernmost finger of the river delta and the swooping curve of coastline. The palace sprawled over its entirety.

“It’s known as Aravath’s Lookout,” Tallen whispered to Maddi, careful not to break the spell of awe cast upon her by sight of the royal capital. “It’s where Aravath the Navigator landed with the first wave of the Return. It is the seed of Gannon. From here he claimed the entire Andon River basin.”

Maddi’s eyes remained locked on the palace. Tallen watched her studying the spiral towers, delicate skyways, and domed structures, and the way they captured the sunlight with silver roofs and colored glass windows. The buildings stood seamless, as if made from singular pieces of marble. Most curved with fluidity, giving a peaceful, almost surreal feeling to the architecture.

“How do they build such things?” Her eyes never left the skyline.

“Wizards.” Tallen nodded his head, his own gaze captured by the palace. “Air mages lifted huge marble slabs, and Earth and Fire mages molded them together. It is almost five centuries of work.” He laughed. “Though, I imagine Aravath spent that first night in a rather dingy tent.”

A voice cleared from behind. “And you’ll be spending your first night in the palace.” Boris smiled when Tallen and Maddi jumped. Magus Britt stood behind the earl, homecoming in his grin. “Unless of course you would like King Aravath’s tent… I’m certain it is somewhere within the museum dedicated to him.”

The mage barked a harsh laugh. “Probably right next to his hallowed chamber pot.”

“Undoubtedly.” Tallen could not pick Boris’ humor from the comment, but he did not think the earl found it as funny as Magus Britt. “However, we will be docking soon, so the two of you will want to gather your things.” Boris scanned the city of the Gannonite kings, a wistful expression on his face. “Daynon will be our last stop together.”

When the Navigator set his foot upon the land,

Flowers sprang from his very hand.

The fields did grow and the river did flow.

And the ocean bowed upon the sand.

— Rhyme of the Navigator by Josun Vatris

F
amiliar as she was with the slow rock of the riverboat, Maddi’s first few steps onto the stone pier wobbled. She stretched the backs of her legs, working the unsteady feeling from them.

“You’ll get your legs back soon.” The gruff Bluecloak mage squinted while his eyes focused on the crew unloading their horses and dwarf ponies. “The ride to the Ivory Palace is not far, but we will stable our horses there.” He shifted his face to Tallen. “You will have no need of yours on the Isle.”

The young man nodded and made his way toward the old palfrey he called Stew. Maddi followed.

“I suppose I could hitch a ride with you again.” She noticed the grin that cracked his face at her words. “I doubt I’ll need a horse at the Doctor’s College.” Maddi narrowed her eyes at the mage. “That is why I’m here, right? Will I need to buy a house to replace the one you forced me to abandon in Gavanor?”

Earl Boris held a hand up to his elder friend, and the mage bit his tongue. “There are dormitories at the Doctor’s College for all students. Duke Aginor secured your home in Gavanor. It will await your return, once you have completed your time at the College.” The earl tossed his cloak over one shoulder, exposing the black falcon. “For the next few days, however, you will all stay with us at the Palace as guests of the Royal Guard.”

Tallen took Stew’s reins from the crewman leading him across the cargo gangplank. “When do I leave for the Isle?”

Hoisting his leg over his own, shorter steed, the mage settled himself into the saddle. “Day after tomorrow. A ship will be waiting for you at first light. I sent a raven to the Isle from Bridgedale and received their reply when we docked in Barmor.” He clattered away over the cobblestones. “You will not want to be late.”

Boris mounted his black stallion, nodding toward Maddi before following his friend. Their big sergeant rode close behind.

Maddi watched Tallen’s green-cloaked brother mount his cavalry horse. “Come on then, you two. I can stay tonight then I have to head back to Gavanor.” He clicked his tongue at the mare. “Let’s make the most of our time.”

Once firmly seated behind Tallen on the palfrey, Maddi wrapped her arms around his waist.
He does have a slender build, for a soft innkeeper. And his eyes are so…spirited. I think he’s a little younger than me, but I can’t tell for certain.
She sniffed.
And he always smells clean…

The horses gathered in a tight group around Maddi and Tallen as they joined the traffic on the main thoroughfare to the palace. The half dozen dwarves on ponies drew far more stares than a few Bluecloaks in the capital. Maddi smiled at the sight. Darve Northtower seemed to relish the attention, nodding and bowing to passersby as if he were a head of state on parade.

“Maybe he is,” she murmured.

Tallen turned his head. “What was that?”

“Just admiring the beauty of the city.”

The overwhelming size of the Ivory Palace became apparent once they rounded the corner. The sweeping, cream-colored towers captured Maddi’s gaze. What had once appeared delicate and impossible at a distance, now looked magnificent and unyielding. More than a dozen towers leaped into the air, most taller than the pinnacle of the citadel in Gavanor. Domed buildings sprung between them, adding bulk to the sweeping towers. In the center of it all a wide, circular hall stood, its dome reaching half the height of the tallest tower. Maddi snapped her mouth shut.

Tallen’s jaw still hung agape. “It’s…bigger up close.”

She snorted. “Most things are.”

The traffic thinned upon reaching the outer wall of the palace, twenty yards in height and garrisoned by hundreds of Bluecloaks. Earl Boris led the entire party up to the captain in command.

“Welcome home, My Lord.” The Bluecloak saluted and bowed his head. “I hope your journey was fruitful.”

Boris frowned. “We’ll find that out soon enough, Captain.”

They rode into the palace grounds, Maddi admiring the dragons and knights wrought into the steel of the gates.

The beauty of this place is enchanting.
Wide grass lawns spread between the marble buildings and towers. Stone pathways, most wide enough for a pair of wagons to pass each other unmolested, crisscrossed the grounds between groves of manicured trees and flower gardens. Lillies and roses blossomed all around in dozens of colors, while clematis and mandevilla vines climbed painted trellises and shaded gazebos. The soft breeze carried the scent to Maddi’s nose, and she fluttered her eyes in pleasure.

Tallen shook his head, his voice distant in tone. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Smiling at the look on Tallen’s face, Maddi slid down from behind him. She let her hand linger on his hip a moment while she pretended to pick a stone from her boot.
He’s certainly kind, and his eyes sparkle when he smiles.

She had a difficult time focusing on her steps. Her eyes kept drifting toward the tops of the tall towers – blue and silver banners snapping from each. Save one. A long gray banner fluttered from the third tallest spire, blazoned with the half-black, half-white sigil of the Temple of Balance.

She looked at Tallen and his brother. “Do all the people of Gannon follow the Balance?”

The two men glanced at each other, their matching expressions ones of mixed humor and humility.

“No is the easy answer,” Jaerd said with a frown. “Our family is as close to the Water as to the Balance, but the Westars settled near the source of the Andon long before the Temple sent its missionaries to the frontier.” He gestured to Tallen. “Tell her about the shrine.”

The younger brother smiled. “The Water priests say that the old spring behind the Gryphon was a holy site in the Elder Days, when Aspect worship was all that anyone practiced in our part of the world.” Tallen nodded in her direction. “What tradition do you follow? Aren’t all the Aspects hallowed in the Free Cities?”

“As is the Balance.” She lifted her head, squinting at Tallen. “My father claimed that all the Aspects were worthy of respect, though they did little to help him when the Bloody Flux came.” She shrugged. “I think the only thing we really have to believe in is ourselves.”

Tallen nodded. “You can believe in me.” The smile, dampened by her words, returned to his lips.

Groomsmen in blue livery trotted up, taking the horses and dwarf ponies at Boris’ command. A Bluecloak officer closed with the earl and the Battlemage, the three whispering in a close huddle. Hefting his two-yard axe, Sergeant Hall saluted the earl, and dashed off toward the city. Brawny looked at Tallen and whined softly, then loped off after his master.

Boris bowed his head to the dwarf leader. “Maester Northtower, servants will show your men to accommodations. The king holds court at this hour, if you wish to show him your totem.”

Darve nodded and turned to his followers. “Seek rest and food. I will carry the message of our people.”

“We must hurry,” Magus Britt barked at Tallen. He gestured to Maddi. “You should come as well.”

The group followed Boris with haste. Jaerd slipped in close behind Tallen. “This place could be as dangerous as anything we’ve faced.”

The wide steps of the High Hall led up to three steel wrought double-doors, each cast in shapes of knights and dragons battling, sometimes on the same side. The central door stood open, flanked by two Bluecloaks at attention. They gave Boris a sharp salute as he stomped past them.

They followed the earl into the High Hall, Maddi gaping at the dome spread wide above her. Its vastness was incomprehensible from outside. The dome had no seams, like the rest of the Ivory Palace. At its center, nearly a hundred yards over her head, a wide circle of light poured in through an opening, casting a beam that crawled slowly across the floor. At first, the hole appeared tiny, until a raven flew through it giving her some perspective.

Tallen leaned in close. “They say an Air mage is employed full time keeping the birds out so they…um…don’t make a mess.”

Maddi snickered. She stepped out onto the intricate inlay of the stone floor. Hundreds of different colors were set into the marble, marking out a huge map of the known world in precise, beautiful detail. Gannon, at the heart of the continent of Tarmor, stood at the very center of the room.

She nudged Tallen, pointing at an odd crisscross of wavy lines across the map. “Do you know what that is?”

Tallen cupped a hand around his mouth, directing his softened voice toward her. “I’ve read that it is a sort of calendar.” He pointed toward the opening far above. “That beam of light follows it every day, shifting with the sun and seasons.” His finger trailed down to where the pool stretched as it neared the edge of the map, marking the descent into night. “With each day the light moves southward, marking the shift from winter to summer, then back again. By its position, we are just shy of midsummer. It looks like it will head back the other way in just a week or so.”

“You are a font of knowledge,” she whispered. “I hope it’s useful someday.”

The Battlemage cleared his throat, and Boris raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll want to keep quiet in the hall of the king.” The earl straightened his tunic and adjusted his sword. “I wish that I could.” He stepped out onto the inlaid stone, his black riding boots ringing against it.

At the far end of the hall, almost a hundred yards from them, a large cluster of finely dressed men and women gathered. Dozens of house sigils made from precious stones hung around noble necks on thick gold chains. Squinting as they walked closer, Maddi picked out every Gannonite crest that she knew, and many she did not recognize. Three elves stood close together near the edge of the nobility, their calm faces focused on the scene.

Beyond the bejeweled clutch of highborn, a four-tiered dais rose from the floor map just where the Dragonscale Mountains should be. The bottom step held nine chairs, each carved of hickory. Men concentrating on the proceedings occupied three of the chairs. One somewhat handsome young man wore the crest of House Belcester, a mother-of–pearl seahawk stretching its wings between amethysts and aquamarines. The second man, far older, wore a white robe with a rainbow sash. His white beard flowed over his chest, and he held a wooden staff. The third man lounged in his chair, his clothes and pointed beard well kempt. The pendant on his chest held only a single, large blue sapphire.

Tallen leaned in to whisper. “Those are the king’s councils. The Common Council is on the lower step – peers of the kingdom. Mostly dukes of the different realms.” He nodded toward one end. “Duke Aginor Varlan holds a seat there, though they usually all gather only in times of great peril.”

“You seem to know a lot about the nobility for a cook,” Maddi commented, a doubtful frown on her face.

The young man looked sheepish. “Politics is an obsessive hobby, I guess. I’ve read histories from all over the kingdom.” He frowned slightly. “Plus, we do get news at the Gryphon.”

Smiling at his offended tone, Maddi fell in step alongside him. Her gaze climbed to the second row of the dais, where five intricately carved mahogany chairs stood. Men sat in three of them, their cast rather diverse. One of the chairs overflowed with a grotesquely fat man dressed in black and white silk robes. Next to him sat a man the exact opposite in appearance: thin, attentive, dressed in a fastidious cloak of Gannon blue. Four silver stars glittered on the collar of his tunic.

When Maddi focused on the third man, her senses tingled. She noticed the sharp glint to his eyes and a thick mop of brown hair that tumbled across his forehead.
Well now, isn’t he a handsome one. Looks like he knows it too. But there’s something…familiar about him. Not his look, but something else.

After clearing his throat, Tallen continued. “The second platform is for the High Council. They are they king’s private advisors – the most powerful men in the kingdom.” He pointed to the fastidious-looking Bluecloak. “That is the Lord Marshal himself.” Tallen’s voice sank even further. “He even outranks Earl Boris and Magus Britt.”

Maddi squinted. “Alright, since you know so much, who is the one on the right, the fellow in brown robes?”

A smile spread across Tallen’s lips. He looked proud to have an answer for her. “I believe that is the Lord Doctor. I forget his name.” He tilted his head as if in thought. “You’ll be meeting him soon, I suppose.” Tallen frowned. “It’s Lord Doctor…Marvin, Maerin? Something like that. I think he’s only held office a few years.”

Nodding, Maddi gestured for Tallen to continue as they crossed the open dome. The young man smiled even wider if possible.

“The third step of the dais has just the one seat. It’s black because it is carved from a solid piece of ebony.” Maddi turned her gaze to the empty chair. A single, plain piece of blue linen hung over its arms. Tallen leaned in close enough to place his hand at the small of her back. “No one has occupied the Seat of the Heir in decades.”