High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (11 page)

“Shereul did not stop with his invasion of the Wilderlands.  He has raided a thickly-peopled province in force,” I countered, “and crippled the agricultural heart of the Duch—the Kingdom.  He is marshalling his forces for an even more ambitious attack.”

“Then see to your defense – but let it not concern us,” the haughty Alka lord replied.  “We were not the ones who stirred up the feral gurvani and drove them to such lengths.  If they seek your destruction, then I counsel you to defend yourselves.”

“That’s what we’re
doing,
Lord Aeratas,
”
I assured him.  “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need the help – or that you aren’t threatened yourselves.  You have already heard about the pillage of your refuges in the Alshari wilderness.  How long until the Dead God’s legions are at your gates, not ours?”

“Until the gurvani learn how to swim I would not vouchsafe their chances,” the lord of fabled lake city of rainbows said, amused.  “We understand how troublesome this war is for you, Master Minalan, but the feral gurvani fanatics have done very little, save take vengeance on your folk.”

“And yours,” I reminded him again.  “They are no lovers of the Tree Folk . . . some misunderstandings of your own history, from what I understand,” I said, trying to be respectful and forceful at the same time.  It’s harder than it sounds. 

But I felt it was important to remind the arrogant Alkan lord that the ‘feral’ gurvani were the descendants of the nocturnal servile class that had revolted and freed themselves from the Alka Alon, thousands of years ago.  And as we were learning, the gurvani held a grudge.

“Regardless of how we arrived at this moment, we are here,” Master Haruthel conceded.  “The gurvani resurrected a powerful shaman from their history, using irionite.  None could have guessed they would discover the secret to its making.  They have such limited connection to magic, as we all know.  Worse than the humani.”

“And then they armed their magical class with it,” reminded Lady Ladas, speaking for the first time.  “That much power in the hands of former drudges is unthinkable.  As bad as seeing it in the fingers of the humani.”

“With the power of the Dead God’s thought behind them,” I pointed out, “it’s a damn sight worse than anything the Archmagi ever did.”

“Which is why this is Abomination,” agreed Haruthel.  “As has been said, the danger of such an unpredictable force in our realm has not been unnoticed.  We are settling refugees from the Abomination’s attacks, now.  Some refuges are being evacuated, as a precaution.  But it is hoped by this council than the threat can be contained.”

“Contained?”
I asked in disbelief. 

“For now,” agreed Haruthel.  “Until we can give it proper consideration.”

“How can you
contain
unrestrained, unsleeping hatred?” I demanded, despite myself.  “A hatred so great it casts a shadow on your realm in this world and the Otherworld?”

“It is powerful.  It is not unmanageable,” said Lord Letharan.  He sounded almost offended.

“Tell that to the Aronin of Angriel.  As powerful as he was, he and his court were unable to do much at all in the face of the Abomination,” I reminded them.

“A brave and brash act of defiance, from one mighty enough to contemplate the meaning of his own sacrifice.  The issue is containment,” repeated our host, unfazed.  “For the last year, the Abomination has contented itself to remain in its stronghold, sending out forces in its stead.  It is possible that it has no higher ambition at the moment than to study the molopor.  Left unmolested, the Abomination could take years before it masters the intricacies of the molopor.”

“And the council thinks allowing that is
wise?”
I asked, skeptically.

“As wise as allowing you to keep the irionite which you have acquired,” said Letharan.  “A necessary evil for a dark time.  And one that can be remedied later.”  There was no mistaking the menace in his voice.  That pissed me off.  As if he had a right to determine whether I was able to use the stuff.

“I won that irionite in
battle,”
I pointed out.  “I appreciate the enhancements the Alka Alon gave it, but the irionite is
mine
. And I will need it, since it seems I’m the only one inclined to fight the Dead God.”

“Ah, but will you win?” asked our host, genuinely intrigued by the question.  “Imperial magic, however potent, against the unsleeping hatred, as you put it, of a severed head?”

“I never said the task was going to be easy,” I replied, far more calmly than I felt, “just that it needed to be done.  And if the tools at hand are inadequate, I will secure better.”

“You have to admit, he has proven proficient at that,” chuckled Lady Micrethiel.  “The boldness and ingenuity of Master Minalan is well known.  His need seems to outpace the craft of our greatest masters.”

“Yes, this . . . snowstone,” Lord Aeratas said, eyeing me carefully.  “Remarkable.  You have irionite less than two years and you manage to evoke a substance unimagined by the Alka Alon in ten thousand years.  Just how did one such as you manage such a feat?” There was an accusing tone to his voice.

“That really nears the realm of craft secrets, my lord,” I said, my eyes shifting to each of them in turn.  “The truth is, I do not know –
precisely.
  It was a serendipitous accident, but one that might be repeated, if enough study is given to it.  Unfortunately, I lack the time, considering my present duties.  But I do, indeed, happen to control a mountain or two of snowstone.”

“And you think that gives you permission to dictate to this council?” asked Lord Letharan, sharply.

“No, my lord.  But perhaps that elevates my standing to this council in a way neither my race nor my profession warrant.”

“Snowstone has intrigued many of us,” agreed our host.  “The samples you sent were received with wonder and curiosity.  Many uses for them have been found already.  Our research promises yet more secrets await to be discovered.  But . . .  will you not tell us how you made it?”

“It was the by-product of some . . . creative magic,” I demurred.  “A spell I improvised to secure the safe birth of my son.  Again, should we have the time and resources, I would love to explore the topic – I find it more than a little interesting, from a thaumaturgical perspective.   But there is the matter of the genocidal goblin head . . .”

“We are investigating that,” assured Lord Letharan.  “If the Abomination has a weakness, it will be found.  For now it and its people occupy but a small province in the mountains—”

“And a third of Gilmora,” I reminded him.  “Far from contained, Shereul’s forces roam virtually unchecked.  And those forces now include dragons.” That got their attention.  They knew that, of course, but the Alka Alon were well aware of the destructive powers of the saurian killers.  They, themselves, had suffered dragonfire in past ages.

“Still, the incursion is an inconvenience, not a tragedy,” Lady Ladas insisted.  “Dragons in particular are uncooperative, difficult to use in war.  His forces are not insignificant, but they are crude.  Well within your new Kingdom’s ability to meet.”

I had my doubts about that, but I kept my mouth shut.  If King Rard did put every knight in the field, I’m certain we could overwhelm the gurvani legions.  But at what cost?  A million widows and orphans left behind?  Social upheaval never before seen in the Duchies?  Not to mention the matter of a lack of political will.  Rard was having a hard enough time extending his authority inside the kingdom, much less projecting it out.  He was not in a position to lead that kind of initiative.

“It would go better if we had allies,” I reiterated.  “The weapons you gave us were decisive in the Battle of Cambrian.  But that was a skirmish, compared to what lies ahead.  Our reports say that Shereul is emptying his dark valley and preparing a mighty campaign.  His minions loot northern Gilmora, capturing its people for sacrifice or slavery, preparing the region as a staging ground to attack the heart of the Kingdom.   He is building depots and garrisoning captured castles all along the Timber and Cotton Roads.  Every High Mage we can field against that invasion is a victory.  You want snowstone, I want irionite.”   It was a breach of etiquette to bring up such matters.  But I wanted to inspire a particular reaction, and I was successful.

“We did not call you hear to barter like Tal Alon wives in a market!” said Lady Micrethiel, scandalized.

“I know, you Tree Folk don’t do things that way,” I soothed.  “But I have little time, and a great task ahead.  For good or ill the gods have seen fit to gift me with this resource, and I will use it as I can.  And since I have the only snowstone mine on Callidore, if you want it you have to talk to me.  But,” I said, as I saw several of them begin to get upset with me, “I think I can sweeten the deal.  Snowstone was not the
only
gift I was given on that night.”

Pentandra, send in Guri with the chest
, I ordered, mind-to-mind.

A moment later the Karshak came in bearing a small redwood chest made especially for the task.  That was the source of Dara’s discomfort.  The grinning Karshak stonesinger opened it with exaggerated ceremony, revealing five soft silk bags.  I took one and handed it to each of the lords.

“A small gift, from the Magelord of Sevendor,” I said as I passed them out.  “Five Waystones.  Each set within a flower of silver.  These are Apophylyte crystals hidden within my mountain and enchanted in the same fashion as the snowstone.  They are jewels of especial power, as they reduce the magical resistance in their vicinity to nothing.  But more importantly, Master Guri assures me that each of them is essentially a portable waypoint,” I explained as they opened their presents.  “Allowing the songspell of transport to work . . .
anywhere.
  That is a wonder I have never read of in all of the Alka Alon epics.  And these are but a few of the many unique gems Master Guri has discovered within my holding.”

“This . . . this is a noble gift!” Lord Aeratas declared, his alien eyes twinkling with excitement as he examined his jewel.  “And you say there are others . . . ?”

“A goodly supply,” I agreed.  “These are but the finest specimens.  Nor are they the only type of gem to be arcanely transformed.  Clear quartz, milky quartz, all manner of crystals were changed by the spell into truly unique stones.  We have only begun studying them and determining their properties, but they continue to amaze.  Our initial thaumaturgical surveys are promising.  We may have stones that can bend time or space.  Gems that can transform and twist the nature of reality.  Jewels that possess unique powers, some no doubt too subtle for my limited lore.  But my mountain of snowstone has a lot to offer.”

“This . . . alters the situation,” Lord Letharan admitted, reluctantly.  “Truly these are magnificent artifacts.  Master Guri, you support Master Minalan’s claims?”

“He vastly understates the matter,” agreed Guri.  “There are pockets we have yet to explore, but the trove recovered so far is . . . well, it had my granddad in tears,” he said, solemnly.  “When he sang the mountain, it nearly broke him, so moved was he.”

“Still, we are not merchants,” Lady Ladas said, sternly. 

“Nor do I ask you to be,” I agreed, respectfully.  “But we are in a difficult place, and we fight a foe we know little about, one who out-matches us.  And we do it with scavenged irionite.  If nothing else, help us arm our warmagi to slow the Dead God’s advance.  If you have found my gifts at all worthy, consider doing a kindness to us in return, as is proper among both our peoples.”

“Do you fully understand what you ask?” asked Lady Ladas, looking up from her shiny new jewelry.  “The last time irionite was prevalent in humani society, you oppressed each other with it until you forced yourselves to give it up.”

“I wish I could say your folk have matured since then,” added Lord Letharan, distastefully, “but in truth you have grown more barbarous over time, not less.”

“You are not wrong.  The old Magocracy was a high point in human civilization.  And if we did not face the threat we do, I would not ask.  Already I am tasked with the regulation of the high magi, and I find it difficult and perplexing.  Every High Mage is a potential disaster I am sworn to protect my people from.  Adding more for me to oversee is not a pleasant idea.”  I thought of my marble board, back in Sevendor.  I was already overwhelmed by the task –
why was I adding more?

“Yet we have no choice but to accept the burden and contend with the crisis as they come, because over our horizon lies the Shadow.  And if we do not have the weapons to fight it, we are lost anyway.  Unless you folk can step in and end the threat,” I added hopefully.

If anyone on Callidore could do it, it was the Alka Alon.  They were the masters of magic.  Yet none of them looked particularly optimistic at the idea.

“You . . .
could
step in and end the threat, couldn’t you?” I asked, when no one answered me.

“It would be difficult,” agreed Lord Letharan, “but not impossible.  At least in theory.  That was one reason why we assembled this council, to assess the threat.  We understand the danger better than you do.  But we are dealing with something new in our experience.  There have been other Abominations . . . but none have raised armies.  None have captured a molopar of high degree.  And none have operated with the level of intelligence this gurvan has shown. “

“The appearance of snowstone in such a timely manner, especially with your personal involvement, suggests other forces are at work,” added Lord Haruthel.  “The nature of the substance suggests the involvement of the divine.  Human gods have a history of entangling themselves in the strands of fate on Callidore.  With two such unpredictable forces at play, it is wise to proceed cautiously.”

“Proceed cautiously . . .
faster
,” I urged.  “I’m not asking for legions of Alka Alon to march by our side.  I’m just asking for a few pebbles to help us slow him down while you are deliberating.  And more advice and technical assistance, so that we can mount a credible defense.”

“Have we not provided you an adequate embassy?”

“It’s a start,” I agreed.  “Lady Ithalia and the others have been invaluable.  We could not have won the Battle of Cambrian without their assistance.  But we need more than that.  I know that snowstone presents an alluring possibility for research.  I know that there are those among your folk who favor more direct involvement in the war.  I know that your people have suffered at the hands of the gurvani.  And I know that you have Callidore’s best interests in mind.  All I ask is that while you cautiously investigate the situation, you allow us the opportunity to defend ourselves.”

“We will continue to discuss this between ourselves after the evening meal,” our host announced, as a chime rang in the distance.  “Thank you for your testimony, Master Minalan.  The council will summon you again when we have come to some decision.”

Chapter Four

Allies & Enemies

“So how did they like them?” Pentandra asked quietly as we walked toward the Hall of Hospitality. She knew my plan to bribe the Alka Alon with Apophylyte and she heartily approved.

“The gifts?  They loved them.  They’re like children, when they see something they like: unmitigated joy.  And as bribes go, it definitely changed the mood of the discussion.  Unique magical jewels were just too shiny to pass up.  But I faced a lot more opposition in there than I expected.  There was a lot going on that I did not understand.  Politics and history, no doubt, but we’ve got to know more about who we’re dealing with.  That council wasn’t much help.  I still don’t know who among them are allies and who are enemies.”

“Such things are subtle, when it comes to the Tree Folk.  I was hoping to overhear some gossip while we were waiting to help you out,” Penny said, looking around to see who could overhear her, ”but it’s difficult if you don’t know the language.  They use human speech when they speak to us, but half the time when they’re together they don’t even use
words
when they communicate.  They
sing
to each other. And I have no context at all for their music,” she admitted.  “It’s frustrating.  But Dara and I had a good time trying to figure out the local politics by observation.”

“Any insights?” I asked, as I took a pipe out of a pouch and packed it.

“The Avalanti are definitely the lower class, here.  Almost servile, with a few exceptions.  The Versaroti, which are the ones with the hair plaits, are far less numerous, but universally deferred to.  Of course, without the benefit of clothes it’s difficult to tell which Alka are which, but they’re individual enough when you use magesight.  And the Avalanti are a little shorter, I think.”  I hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense.  Using magesight, that is.

“Any other helpful conclusions?” I asked, lighting my pipe with a cantrip and taking a deep draw.  I felt relief that my part of the council was over but suddenly a lot more anxiety about how I did.

“I’d really love to spend a month here, just . . .
breathing.
  Min, I don’t know what it is, exactly, but there is some wholesomeness here that makes everything rich and vibrant.  Magic, but . . . pervasive.  I feel it everywhere.” Her face was flushed, and her eyes burned with excitement.

“That’s how it is with the Tree Folk,” I agreed, ruefully.  “Angriel was like that, but not to this extent.  The forest refuge felt like a fine spray.  This is more like a waterfall.  It’s like you could spend every moment just enjoying your existence, and the days would slip away.”

“And I wouldn’t mind one bit.  I suppose that’s why the Alka Alon realms were always so perilous to humans in the epics,” she pointed out.  “When every breath you take satisfies you like a banquet meal, it’s difficult to concentrate.”

“It would make a pleasant honeymoon destination,” I agreed.  “But that’s not helpful.”

“Well, I can confirm your theory on their . . .
magical coordination
,” she added, as we stepped into yet-another glorious garden that led to the Hall of Hospitality.  “I’ve watched several work crews pass by while we were waiting for you.  Any time more than two of them got together to do something, there was a coordination effect.  They all worked in perfect step, like they had practiced for hours.  There was no apparent initiation of it, like an officer calling his troops to order, they just
did
it.”

We interrupted our conversation when Ithalia announced it was time to lunch and ushered us into a long hall of breathtaking beauty where we were to dine, at which important Alka Alon had already begun to congregate. 

While it was as Alkan as Angriel had been, it was different in style from the rustic Tree Folk refuge.  The stone pillars that supported the roof were carved in the shape of spiral tree trunks,
natavia
, of course, but far more stylized and less-naturalistic than what I remembered from Angriel.  The vaulted roof twinkled with dozens of slowly-moving teardrop-shaped magelights.  There was no fire in the hall, but the air was warmer than the cool mountain spring air outside.  I was still glad of my mantle.  When everyone around you is naked, it makes you feel cold just looking at them.

We were led by our emissaries to the center of the room  There we were seated in groups of five or six around small tables radiating out from a larger round center table at which the principals of the council were seated.  The chairs were mere cushioned stools, and I did not look forward to perching on one with my knees near my cheeks . . . but then I saw that they had prepared a table for us in advance, with human-fashioned chairs of proper size.

As we were seated the host addressed us, sang a blessing and thanked us all for our presence.  I noticed that he was wearing the silver chain and the jewel I had given him.  They all were.  Even Lord Aeratas. 

“Looks like they enjoy their pretties,” chuckled Master Guri, a growl of satisfaction in his voice.  “I knew they would.  It is said you cannot go wrong flattering the vanity of an Alkan lord.”

“Or the avarice of a Karshak,” Lady Ithalia noted, dryly.  “Please excuse me while I speak to the steward of the hall.”

“You two
behave
,” Pentandra reproved in a sharp whisper.  “We’re guests here!  They do look quite fetching, though.  One of your folk did the settings?”

“My cousin Krin,” nodded the Karshak stonesinger.  “Not the smoothest stone in the pile, but the kid has talent when it comes to metalwork.  The
chaka
love those simple floral settings.”  Chaka, I’d come to learn as Master Guri and his folk had built the Alkan refuge atop Matten’s Helm, was a native Karshak term for Alka Alon, though not a particularly flattering one – I think it meant “pompous” or something along that line  Master Guri leaned in, almost conspiratorially.  “Nice work in council, Min,” he added, approvingly.  “When they opened up those little bags, I thought their eyes would fall out!  They were all impressed . . . but I’m not certain ‘tis enough.  Lord Letharan isn’t going to forget his enmity over a pretty stone . . . although he’ll keep the pretty stone.  And I doubt you moved Lord Aeratas more than an inch.”

“You don’t build a fortress in a day,” I reminded him as I watched Ithalia went to speak to one of the stewards about our care.  Probably reminding him what we ate.  The Alka Alon all seemed to be eating from a common bowl in the middle of the table, filled with fruits, steamed vegetables, and wholesome thoughts.  I was craving ham.  “I just needed them to see me as a valuable resource, not as a miscreant humani mage.  If they know what I have, and they want more, then maybe they’ll stop being condescending long enough to actually help us out.  I wasn’t exaggerating about the embassy’s help.  We could not have defeated the dragon without Alkan assistance.”

“They are powerful allies,” agreed Master Guri, sagely, out of Ithalia’s hearing (but likely not the dozens of other Alka Alon in the room), “but beware your entanglements with them.  Alka Alon politics is notoriously vicious and sophisticated.  I suppose when you live damn near forever, you have time to really think about how to be subtle, petty, and vindictive.”

“Like it or not, you’ve been thrust into the center of it,” Lady Ithalia said, approaching our table as the first course was served.  “Your gift in council was unexpected, Master Minalan, but well-received.  The steward was just remarking to me about the graciousness of the gift.  And your presentation was . . . while it was course, in some ways, it was effective.  The council was swayed, at least, not to try to attempt to take your sphere from you I think.”

“A validation of their wisdom,” I agreed, solemnly.  “I’m not inclined to give it up.”

“They also think of you as a potential ally and emissary to the humani.  Those, too, are good things.”

“Only if it works to our advantage.  I appreciate the fact that they think I’m a stalwart fellow with an open hand, and that I know a king and a couple of dukes, but what I
really
need—”

“Is being taken into account,” Ithalia interrupted.  “Master Minalan, the council understands what you wish.  But it will not act until it feels it is properly informed.  They will hear from the Wilderland representatives next, and tonight they hear the tales of the Kasari emissaries, and those of the Valley Folk.  Master Guri will testify tomorrow morn.  Other agents will report.  Other emissaries will take counsel.  And in the meantime, the council will deliberate.  Impatience would not be prudent,” she warned.  “No doubt you will be spoken to privately at tonight’s reception by those who wish to hear your counsels more closely.”