Changing Of The Guard (Book 6) (11 page)

The energy required to magic her way back to de’Mayer Island taxed Neuma greatly. She arrived numb from two nights without sleep, and in a mood that would scare off a planewalker’s demon. But at least with Hirl-enat and Fil traveling to the Vapor Peaks, she had time to recover.

A little, anyway. Enough.

Badwall needed to be addressed—as did the entire western plain, for that matter—but that could wait until she had secured the island itself. Everyone with half a thought understood that the Koradictine order would survive as long as the island was held firm, and that meant ensuring loyalty of the few wizards who remained.

She went to her basin to find it full of stagnant water.

“Hess?” she called, but there was no answer.

She stormed into the hallway.

While the Koradictine castle itself was an edifice that towered over de’Mayer point, the stronghold was a labyrinth of halls and rooms carved into the volcanic cliffs themselves. Befitting her age and experience rather than her power, her room was far from the interior, hence the hallways were longer and darker than many others.

The path was familiar, though.

Her fatigue served to feed her anger as her stride picked up a steady rhythm. Her footsteps gave a staccato ring against the stone. The door to the kitchen was cracked open, allowing voices to leak out. The apprentices and adepts were eating together, or playing dice, or some other game of randomness that each would attempt to influence with the creative use of magestuff.

She remembered those times in her own past, but was in no mood for games.

“Hess?” she said, stepping into the chamber.

Conversation came to an abrupt stop.

“Lady Neuma,” Hess said, sliding his backside off the table where he had been holding court with, knowing him, some overblown tale of wonder.

“We were just on break, Lady Neuma,” Hess said, bowing with submission.

“You’ve been on break for so long that you’ve forgotten to refresh my water?”

“We expected you back much later,” he replied.

“Things change,” she said. “It will go best for you if you anticipate that from now on.”

“Yes, Lady. I’ll get to the water right away.”

Hess stepped past.

Neuma glanced at the remaining apprentices, thinking about Ettril and Hirl-enat. She was so close to the end game. So close.

“Things are changing around here,” she said to the apprentices. “You had best prepare, too.”

Chapter 2

Fil stopped scanning the woods to look at Hirl-enat.

The elder mage was riding on the bench seat beside him, his eyes closed, his head swaying with the motion of the wagon. He was younger than Ettril, but not as powerful. And his ability to see things for what they actually were was limited. He played things cautiously, never daring too much—unlike Neuma, whose ambition was worn like a garish streak of blush across her cheek.

He pulled his blanket up over his neck. How long would Hirl-enat last?

Though the weather had held reasonably fair, it had been a long trip—over a week’s passage to the Vapor Peaks alone. It would be good to get this resolved so they could get home.

The party came to a halt, and Hirl-enat’s eyes slid open.

Lectodinians, three of them, blocked the passage.

The lead figure was draped in the telltale blue of the order. A quick spell revealed several more mages scattered across the hillside. He had sensed Lectodinians often over the past two days, so this was not surprising. It was good, after all. It was why they had decided to travel so openly, hoping their transparency would draw this very opportunity to parley.

“What are you doing here?” the leader said.

Hirl-enat stood, brushed what wrinkles he could out of his robes, and stepped down.

Fil followed.

“We wish to speak to your Lord Superior,” Hirl-enat said.

“I am sure he is occupied.”

“I believe he will be unoccupied when you tell him we are interested in discussing a merger.”

The mage gave a perceptible pause.

“Go ahead and contact him,” Hirl-enat said. “We will wait.”

Fil observed everything, storing it away.

He noticed how Hirl-enat’s eyes danced with humor at the Lectodinian’s reaction to the idea the Koradictines might surrender, and he noted the way the Lectodinian’s hands shook with more than the cold of winter as he entered his communication spell.

Fil was impressed with Hirl-enat’s composure. His was the key role in this charade. He had to sell the decoy, had to be believed when he promised Koradictine service to the Lectodinian agenda. Neuma’s plan was a good one if Hirl-enat could do this part. Without a quiet span over the winter months, the Koradictine order may well be destroyed, so it was imperative his tone be convincing. And, so far, he had played the part to perfection.

“Lord Esta will see you,” the mage finally replied. “We will escort you from this point.”

Hirl-enat tipped his head. “Excellent.”

They were led into the Lectodinian stronghold through a set of passages cut into the cold, sheer cliffs of the Vapor Peaks. The passes reminded Fil of those his own order had dug into the volcanic realms of de’Mayer Island and the Canyons of Badwall. As they progressed, he felt the complex weave of spell work behind the Lectodinian security systems. From the occasional glances he received from Hirl-enat he was certain the elder felt them also.

That was good.

They didn’t need anything to go awry here, and if Hirl-enat sensed the spell-cover, perhaps he would be even more cautious.

The Lectodinians brought them to a social chamber that was small and blessedly warm thanks to a fire that burned brightly from a hearth built into one wall.

Fil and Hirl-enat were seated. A ring of Lectodinian wizards stood around the perimeter, waiting. The span was long enough that Fil considered the idea that perhaps they had been brought to an ambush chamber. Then sounds of disturbance came from the hallways, and Zutrian Esta, High Superior of the Lectodinian order, entered.

The lord said nothing, merely paused, took them in, and then took the padded chair beside the fire. Once he sat, a pair of the wait staff brought a small table of simple carpentry and placed it between Zutrian and the Koradictines, another brought goblets of warmed wine. Zutrian took a goblet, and still without speaking motioned Hirl-enat and Fil to help themselves.

Fil was tired, and he was hungry, and, despite the warmth of the room—or perhaps because of it—he was feeling the effects of the winter roads. It was all he could do to stop himself from bolting down the wine.

“I don’t see the value,” Zutrian finally said.

“You don’t see the value in joining our two great orders?”

“The Koradictines ceased to be a great order when Garrick cut your ranks at God’s Tower, and what he wasn’t able to finish, internal squabbling and civil unrest in the western plane has managed to complete for him.”

“It is true we are weakened,” Hirl-enat said with more calm than Fil had expected. “But the Koradictine order has roots that run deep. We are far from defenseless, and far from powerless. If you will not bond with us, we can cause you great pain.”

“Roots that run deep,” Zutrian mused. “Yes. Like weeds, you are.”

“Aptly described,” Hirl-enat replied. “Much, I would guess, as the Lectodinians would be had Garrick driven down the eastern face of God’s Tower on that fateful day rather than the westward face.”

Zutrian’s smile was more of a smirk.

Fil was growing more impressed over time. There was more to Hirl-enat than he had expected.

“You know as well as I do, Lord Esta, that this is the one difference between our positions—the random fact that Garrick encountered
our
lines rather than yours is the only reason our orders find themselves in such different states. We are not weaker than you due to any inherent flaw in our order. We are weaker than you because Garrick surprised us and not you. And you know as well as we do that as long as the god-touched still draws breath, you could be next.”

Hirl-enat paused.

“No,” he said, continuing. “You
will
be next.”

The Lectodinian smiled and sipped from his goblet.

“And the dredges of the Koradictine order can help me?”

“We can still sting,” Hirl-enat said. “And we have one advantage that the Lectodinians cannot have.”

“Which would be?”

“Garrick thinks we are dead.”

This comment brought a slow smile to Zutrian’s face. “Yes,” he said. “I can see how that could be used to an advantage.”

This was the point where Fil knew they had won.

Chapter 3

They finished the negotiation two days later. They had agreed to work with Zutrian, agreed to meet regularly, and agreed to focus their efforts on shadowing Dorfort to report happenings around Garrick and the Torean Freeborn. They would hinder them at all points, of course, assuming Garrick returned to the city, anyway.

The Lectodinians would spread themselves eastward first—away from the Koradictine stronghold, while the Koradictines regained what hold they could in the west.

And in the springtime, when travel was better, they would join under one banner. Zutrian would accept the helm of this new, consolidated order of mages. Hirl-enat, Fil, and Neuma would all receive key roles in the new governance, and the group as a whole would use the Koradictine learning to finish the one task that everyone agreed needed to be undertaken: the killing of Garrick.

“That was well-played,” he told Hirl-enat after the council had disbanded. “You’ve bought us an entire winter without Lectodinian disruption.”

“We’ll need it,” Hirl-enat said, staring ahead.

Fil sat back. They were rested and ready. Tomorrow they would begin the trip back to de’Mayer Island. He sensed both of them were thinking the same thing—both wondering what surprises Neuma had for them when they returned.

Book 5: Changing of the Guard

Chapter 1

Garrick brought them straight to Dorfort.

Knowing it was the most likely place to find Darien, Garrick walked from the courtyard, into the government center, and toward his friend’s chamber. Though the winter chill kept the hallway cold, the excess energy he had carried back from Existence kept him warm and vigorous.

There would be rumors about him, he knew.

One does not disappear as he had without rumors. And one does not physically threaten the ruler of a land without repercussions.

And if those actions didn’t cause a big enough stir, his actual appearance now certainly would. His wounds had been healed while he waded through Existence, but sweat and blood had etched a spider web of trails across his face. His shirt and breeches were tattered and scorched from demon touch and from Ettril’s wizardry. A diagonal slice in his pant leg exposed the skin of his thigh.

Those in the courtyard had backed away with eyes wide as he strode through their midst, his breath billowing in the winter cold and his boots crunching over layers of snow. The government center’s yard smelled the same as he remembered, brown dirt with a coating of the briny-fresh air of Blue Lake. Fires burned from pits with greasy black smoke, and the aroma of yeasty rye came from ovens in the back.