Chapter 26: The Calm before the Storm Jad and Kalen spent a restless night in private rooms of T’revor’s Tankard, under Kyan Kim’s watchful protection. Kalen had surrendered to the Loremaster’s decision, after Randae had said he would pay for the trip. And though Sel-kai had been an exciting place in many ways, Kalen couldn’t deny that they were in constant danger there, apparently because of the mysterious Phoenix pendant he wore. The solution, according to the Loremaster, was to attune this pendant. This was some sort of magical process that would allow Kalen to better control it -- including the ability to conceal its presence from those who coveted it. So while Jad and Kalen slept fitfully on a cot in a small back room, Bertram and Taluk went to their quarters at the Barge Inn, gathered all their belongings, and returned just before dawn. Then, in the frosty quiet of the early morning darkness Tad had poled them all up the south fork of the Sharhya that ran along the outskirts of the city, up to the southern Eidolon Ferry port, where Randae joined them. From there they took a surprisingly gentle ride in a balloon-floated boat, which surged out of the water and rose swiftly into the sky. “I feel like my stomach just got left on the ground.” Jad grimaced. “This is worse than being on the ocean!” Bertram wailed. Tad waved to them as they drifted upwards, a wistful look on his face. Kalen wondered if he would ever see Tad -- or Sel-kai -- again. It was grey predawn as the ferry swept up towards Eidolon. The sky-city was a dark spiky shape in the sky above them, resolving as they approached into a huge sphere with a wide disk around its equator, the disk studded with radiating piers and docks. Their ferry rose up underneath a narrow space between two docks where a number of ropes dangled. With the practiced ease that comes from repeating a task thousands of times, boatmen snagged the ropes with hooked poles and attached them to the boat. Then their ferry was winched in by porters on the docks, even as the slow turn of the city caused them to rise up and swing out from the center, like a toy suspended on the end of a string twirled by a child. It was clear to Kalen that this dock was one designed for the ferries: as they were reeled in, the boat fit snugly into the surrounding structure, and in fact once it was fully pulled up, it was locked securely in place with great metal claws of some kind. They stepped off the ferry and onto the wide pier. Kalen looked back to meet Jad’s gaze and the cousins grinned at each other like little boys. They had come to Eidolon, the renowned City in the Sky. He turned around again and looked up towards the center of the city. The sun was just touching the towers of the Prince’s Palace above them, sending the gold-hued metal roofs of its many spires to blazing glory. Just below on the next tier, a ring of huge trees and white stone palaces of the sky-city were bathed in a soft predawn glow. “You’ve come to Eidolon at a delightful time of day.” Randae announced to no one in particular as he directed porters to haul the quartet’s bags. “Of course dawn comes to the Sky-city a few minutes before her land-bound sister. It’s quite dramatic.” By now the sun had caught the trees and lit them in a yellow-green light, while the marble palaces had a rosy glow. It occurred to Kalen that though this was Winter, many of the deciduous trees were in full leaf. He wondered how the city’s masters managed that feat; perhaps with the help of Herbalist magic. It was strangely warm here as well, more like a spring day than the bitter cold of Sel-kai. Truly this was a city apart in more ways than one. Kalen ventured a glance over the edge of the pier. Far down on the earth below, Sel-kai was still in darkness, but he could just see the glimmering lights of the city. The ground seemed so far away as to be unreal. “This way, everyone! Our ship is just a few berths spinward.” Randae called and waved. “I wonder if he’s always this damned cheerful.” Bertram groused. “Maybe it’s required for being a Loremaster.” Taluk said with a smirk. While he was certainly not poor, air travel had always seemed extravagant to Kalen -- second only to the exorbitant cost of a Navigator-guided Jump -- and he never thought he would find himself taking a ride on a skyship. But there they stood on the marble-covered docks of Eidolon, far above the earth and about to board a vessel of the air. The group passed a couple of empty docks, but Kalen could see a ship ahead. It was smaller than your average passenger ship, and though similar to a Caravel class vessel, it was different in several ways. Randae arrived at the head of the pier, bowed slightly and waved them toward the dock next to the ship. “Welcome to the Starwind. Let’s get on board right away; I know the captain has a schedule to keep.” The Skyship Starwind floated next to its mooring pier, a thing of beauty and magic and incredible engineering. Actually of the class known as a Cloud Caravel, it had a high, square stern and a poop deck with cabins below. Like all skyships, it had a double lower hull; the inner one was of wood like most ships. But it also had a thin outer one of thin metal plates sheathed with the magical antigravity alloy Xenium. This outer hull was actually made of overlapping sections that could be extended and retracted. For water travel the plates were folded up along the sides of the ship, but because the craft was currently airborne, the outer hull was mostly extended over the lower body like a second skin. The antigravity of the Xenium provided lift when it was facing downwards, somehow nullifying the power of the earth to draw things to it. Kalen, because of his studies in science, had a vague understanding of gravity, though even the greatest minds of the day did not fully understand how Xenium nullified it, except by some manipulation of the Flows of Essænce. A few other materials had been discovered (all by accident) that manipulated the Essænce with very specific effects. Some were rather dangerous. It was widely believed that tampering with another such material by the people of Zor (once a realm to the north of Rhakhaan) led to the cataclysmic destruction of their capital city. This was never proven, however; the city was so completely ruined that no real evidence remained. The Starwind was rigged with lateen sails on two masts above, and its four ventral sails—side sails used only for air maneuvers—were currently retracted for docking. The crew was busily preparing for departure, but at the bow stood a tall blond man in black, who seemed to be looking into the grey sky off to the north. Come along!” Randae demanded as he walked lightly across the narrow swinging catwalk to the ship, followed by Kim. Unlike the ferry which had fitted snugly into a berth, and the solid piers they had walked on before, this was a flimsy rope and wood plank affair stretching from the pier to the ship -- which itself was bobbing fitfully between its moorings on numerous ropes. Bertram looked terrified and queasy, Taluk resigned. Jad maintained a stoic demeanor but clutched Kalen’s arm in an almost painful grip as they crossed the narrow catwalk to the deck of the Starwind. They made it on deck without incident; Kalen decided not to mention to Jad that he saw his cousin close his eyes for most of the trip across the catwalk, though he was tempted to tease him about his fear of heights: one of the Squire’s very few weaknesses. Bertram and Taluk stepped on board just behind them. The ship bobbed and swayed slightly in a manner disturbing even to one familiar with sea-travel. “I don’t like this at all!” moaned Bertram, already starting to look green. “Well, be careful where you lose breakfast!” Randae laughed as he, flanked by Kim and another companion, joined the quartet. “Over the side here might mean onto some poor fool’s head far below.” Bertram glared at him, now both embarrassed and nauseated. “It’s the worst when we are hanging still, I promise.” Randae tried to assure them. “Once we are underway the ride is usually smoother than by sea. Now, let me introduce our guide.” He gestured to the man in black, “This is Sulfean Kuldir, Navigator of the Guides of Vurn-kye.” He was very different from their previous Navigator from the Naristral, Tar-esiir. Even the Seer Veriak with his eerie blind blue eyes seemed mundane in appearance compared to this Navigator. He was as tall as Randae (at least six and a half feet, Kalen guessed), and his tailored, gold trimmed black uniform accentuated his slender physique. But his face… only the pure Linær Elves possessed such unreal beauty. His flawless skin, blue eyes and golden hair were the stuff of songs. Kalen had never seen his like… perfect, emotionless, almost inhuman. But it occurred to Kalen that there had been a handful of times when he had seen a glimmer of that otherworldly beauty, but in his cousin of all people. In the soft Autumn evening sunlight or an early Spring morning, sometimes Jad’s features had a look like this Navigator’s… Kalen snapped himself back to the present. Sulfean’s demeanor did nothing to make him seem less ethereal. His full lips were pursed into something between a frown and a pout, and his gaze rarely left the horizon. He inclined his head slightly to Kalen and Jad, and then resumed scanning the sky. A statuesque Laan woman joined them from the poop deck. She had a tanned face and thick raven hair held in a braid, and was dressed in a form-fitting black leather tunic, breeches and boots. She had an air of command about her, and Kalen was not surprised at her title when Randae introduced her. Lord Kalen Avanir, Jad, Bertram, Taluk, this is Captain Itara Nankara. Captain Nankara, may I present Lord Avanir and his party.” She nodded perfunctorily to the quartet then turned her gaze to Randae. “If everyone is aboard now, Loremaster, we are ready to make sail for Haalkitaine as soon as the passengers are below.” “We are ready, captain. Would it be possible for these passengers to remain on deck? I know that at least some of them would enjoy watching as we cast off.” Her gaze raked skeptically over Kalen and the others, lingering on the pasty-complexioned Bertram. “Very well, but with safety ropes until they get their sky-legs. I have never lost a passenger overboard and don’t intend to ruin my record today.” Without waiting for an answer, she gestured with a sweep of her arm to Sulfean, who went to join her at the wheel. As she strode aft, she shouted commands in Shay to the crew, who began scrambling like squirrels over the rigging. “I’ll stay on deck if you will.” Jad winked at Kalen. They were about to set sail for Haalkitaine, and back into the heart of the Jaimani wars. Ondoval floated in the regeneration tank filled with bubbling restorative fluid. Loosely suspended by a network of tubes and wires and drifting in the center of the transparent tube, he even breathed the special liquid. Lesser beings would have been driven insane by being conscious yet paralyzed for such a long period, Ondoval thought, but this is nothing compared to the centuries in the Void, trapped in an environment completely without sensory stimulation or mental contact with any other being. Not that I have any equals here! He made the mental equivalent of a derisive snort. Even my own offspring are idiots by comparison. He was nearly healed, and when he emerged from this prison he would make final preparations for taking the Southern Eye of Utha. And he would not make the mistakes he did at the North Pole; the defenses of the Eye Vault will not harm him this time. Captain Nankara called the order to cast off, and Kalen heard the metallic grind and clatter of more Xenium shutters on the ship’s underside being extended for maximum lift. The Starwind lunged upwards, snapping her tethers tight. Jad and Kalen both staggered a bit and held tight to the railing as the ship lurched. Privately Kalen was glad for the extra security of a safety rope. In unison, men on the piers on either side of the ship released the ropes holding the Starwind, and the ship surged skyward and away, quickly clearing the docks. The Captain gave an order and the two larger ventral yards swung out from the sides of the ship, locked into place and unfurled their triangular sails. Nankara spun the wheel and nodded to Sulfean. The Navigator gestured and the sails filled with magically summoned wind, turning the ship away from Eidolon and northward. The view was incredible—the great floating city, gleaming in the dawn, drifting away below and behind them as they gained speed and altitude. The ship felt so small and fragile hanging in the sky this way. Once they were underway, Randae came to visit with them. “The ride is actually much smoother than by sea-ship, isn’t it?” He asked with a smile. In fact, he was right. Air travel lacked the continuous rise and fall with the waves. “Better—and worse.” Jad replied with a humorless smile. As if to make his point, the ship abruptly dropped a few yards, seemingly leaving their stomachs a few dozen feet above them. “That’s worse.” “Just so,” Randae nodded, “Those little bumps add some excitement. Sulfean says that they are caused when we travel through pockets of air at different temperatures. It’s more pronounced when going through clouds. Even with magical wind control you get a few aberrations. Still, with the help of a Navigator, this ship can reach a velocity several times that of a seagoing vessel. There is nothing faster, unless you want to ride a dragon or pay for a Navigator Jump. And of course we don’t have to worry about navigating around obstacles or sailing against ocean currents. At this speed, we will be in Haalkitaine by this time day after tomorrow.” Their journey proceeded through the morning without event, passing over the Melurian Straits, and then when they reached the Jaiman mainland they sailed above the western foothills of the Grey Mountains. For the most part the Captain kept the Starwind about a mile above the ground. The view was so dramatic that the boys spent most of their time on deck despite the chill. Snow covered all the land below them, making the night comparatively bright. They spotted many towns they knew, but had never seen from this vantage point. At about midnight before their dawn arrival, low clouds gathered and they gained some altitude to get above them and the snow that Sulfean said they carried. “It’s eerie to see the clouds below us like this.” Jad said, his voice full of wonder. Jad could see them more clearly with his part-Elven vision, but even Kalen could make them out. Randae joined them just then. “Our Navigator tells me that there won’t be anything more to see tonight, and I suggest that you get some sleep. We should be arriving in Haalkitaine at dawn on schedule, and I want to get right to business.” That night as before Jad and Kalen slept together in the narrow bed in their tiny cabin (space on a skyship was even more at a premium than on a seagoing vessel), huddled against the bitter cold. Kalen dozed uneasily, but Jad as usual seemed to rest blissfully. As he often did, Jad put his arm around Kalen in his sleep; a gesture that the Marquess found at once reassuring and discomforting. The morning lightened to a morose ashen color, typical of Haalkitaine weather. At least it wasn’t snowing. They lost altitude as they approached the grey city, her granite towers looming ahead out of the haze. Haalkitaine was an ancient city, built on a naturally defensible location: a rocky outcrop at the confluence of two rivers, high in the foothills of the Grey Mountains. It had also been remade several times over the centuries. It’s latest incarnation was an impressive if brooding metropolis, a walled city with thick stone walls and many tall structures clustered within—all the fortified townhouses of the royal families. It was a feudal city designed to withstand a siege, quite different from the open trade metropolis that was Sel-kai. All four Rhakhaan youths were wide awake and on deck -- if shivering -- to see the Starwind’s arrival at Haalkitaine. First came a disorienting descent into the clouds, and flying blind as if through a dense fog. Then they burst through the cloud ceiling, to see the great city just ahead through a curtain of snow flurries. The ship’s velocity slowed and they swung around past the city to approach the small harbor on the north side of Haalkitaine. It was standard policy for non-military vessels to never fly directly over a city at low altitude, as such an action was considered provocative. The Starwind slowed further and descended as sails were furled and plates of Xenium retracted. They settled into the water with hardly a lurch, gracefully matching the speed of the river. Kalen noticed dozens of people -- up early about their business -- gawking at the ship as they arrived. Skyships came to Haalkitaine a few times a week, but they were not common as at Eidolon. Kalen wondered if his father and mother were here, and what they would have to say about his unexpected arrival. He suspected that the Duke was still at the castle in Prevan, overseeing the defenses. His mother might very well be here in Haalkitaine, however. After bidding their good-byes to the captain and crew of the Starwind, Randae, Kim and the quartet from Jaiman disembarked and made their way up into the city proper. Passing through the Ice Gate, the group went up the Avenue of Stars and through the North Quarter towards the High City, where the Imperial Palace and Royal Houses clustered. On this chilly, overcast morning the city was already alive with street vendors calling out their wares, soldiers wandering about in squads, and many others more quietly going about their business. Haalkitaine felt very different from Sel-kai, however. Both were ancient, yet the Capital of Rhakhaan wore its age like an impressive cloak of grey granite. All stone towers and dark, claustrophobic cobbled avenues, Haalkitaine aimed to intimidate and it succeeded. Sel-kai was lower, more colorful, the majority of its houses built of wood and stucco. While its streets were narrow and winding, one still did not ever have the feeling of being trapped at the bottom of a deep crevasse where the sun never reaches. Even the widest avenue in Haalkitaine could feel dim and claustrophobic. They arrived at the gates of Avanir House without incident, though along the way several people greeted Jad by name (more than half of them young women, Kalen noted), while one minister bowed shallowly to the Marquess. A few interesting people exchanged nods with Randae, from a black-clad Dúranak, to a High-elf, to a homeless beggar with a strange, sly look on his face. The door warden made no attempt to conceal his shock at seeing Kalen and Jad, and sent servants scurrying with an impatient wave of his hand. “My Lord! We had no idea you would be coming! We will make your rooms ready at once! Master Jad and your knights as well! And—” “Just a couple of friends.” Randae cut in before Kalen could announce him. The Loremaster shot the young Marquess a hard look, its meaning clear: he did not want his name known to the servants. While Kalen appreciated his wish to remain anonymous, he thought it odd considering the many people he had already seen on the way in. Surely the arrival of the Loremaster Randae Terisonen in Haalkitaine was already an open secret. To his secret relief, Kalen’s father was away from Court. He remained at home in Prevan Castle to oversee the defense of the Duchy borders. Kalen’s mother, Irisa, however, was here in Haalkitaine. And Jad’s mother—Irisa’s twin sister Irina—was here as well. Naturally they would be seeing them once they had freshened after their journey. At the butler’s suggestion, they went to the main drawing room to wait while rooms were aired out and a light breakfast was prepared. Once the servants had departed, Randae pulled Kalen aside. “We can make good use of this time. Is there somewhere we can go that is quiet and private, where we will not be disturbed?” “My father’s library is well away from the common rooms, and it can be locked.” Kalen gestured down a corridor. “Excellent, let’s go. Kim, would you and the others wait here for a bit --” He turned and nearly ran into Jad. “I’m coming too.” The Squire protested when Randae tried to brush past him. “Whatever you have in mind, I think I should be there.” The Loremaster let a mischievous smile cross his face before shrugging and turning back to me with a stern look. “Your choice Lord Kalen, but he’ll have to stay out of the way -- and keep his mouth shut!” Kalen, after a defiant glare at Randae, told Bertram and Taluk to summon the butler and tell him to make them comfortable. Then he led the Loremaster to the family library. Through a maze of halls, up stairs and through galleries Kalen led Randae and Jad into the private wing, and finally past the family quarters to a large door at the end of a dim hall. Kalen unlocked the arched door and they entered the dark room. It was very cold inside, and smelled of musty cloth and old leather, smells that Kalen found somewhat reassuring for some reason. He threw the bolt on the door and checked to be sure the other entry -- leading to a foyer -- was locked; those heavy oak planks could hold back an army. Jad lit a couple of lamps, and was about to pull back the crimson velvet drapes covering tall narrow window to let some outside light in when Randae grabbed his wrist. “Leave the windows covered.” The Loremaster took a few steps to the fireplace, made a small gesture with his hand, and the logs piled within erupted into flame as if they had been soaked with oil. Kalen saw Jad look at Randae with a look something between amazement and wariness, a look that the Loremaster did not miss. “A very basic trick, Jad, I bet that I could teach it even to you,” Randae taunted. “Now, Kalen, let’s get to work. I want you attuned to that pendant before another moment passes.” He pulled two huge wing-backed chairs near to the fire and extended his hand. “The Phoenix, please.” Kalen retrieved the pendant from around his neck and handed it to the Loremaster, fighting a small twinge of reluctance to part with it. Randae himself seemed loath to touch the crystal sphere, holding it instead by the golden chain. He motioned for Kalen to one chair while he sat on the edge of the other. The faded red leather creaked under their weight. Jad stood next to Kalen, but Randae shot him an irritated look. “Boy, you’d be better off by the door, not too close to the pendant or your cousin. And once again I caution you, be silent! If you interfere in this attuning you could injure your friend.” Jad stalked over to the door, though he obviously wasn’t happy about it. “Now...” Randae leaned forward, the Phoenix dangling from its chain held in his outstretched hand. “Kalen, I want you to look at the pendant; keep your eyes on it at all times, and follow my instructions carefully. You may see strange things at times, but you will always have my voice as a guide and you must obey my instructions. Is that clear?” The Marquess nodded, his palms already beginning to sweat. Randae began to swing the pendant back and forth slowly, the jeweled red and amber bird inside flickering in the firelight. The Loremaster had performed many attunements to magical items before; with some there was a specific ritual, but with more powerful ones it was often actually a less structured affair. The more intelligent the item, the more free-form the aligning of artifact to owner could be. And there were few items that Randae Terisonen could think of offhand with a more revered pedigree than this little crystalline orb. He had been unable to find any clear instructions in his research during his recent return to Haalkitaine, so he decided he would induce a light trance in the young Marquess and trust to the Phoenix Pendant to do the rest. As Kalen followed its pendulum movement, the Loremaster spoke in a low voice, his words adopting a subtle cadence in time with the moving sphere... “Kalen Avanir, follow the Phoenix… the fiery bird glows... a beautiful jewel as it hangs before you... a flame of gems, a fire of stones, trapped inside a prison of glass...” Kalen felt a numbness creep over his body. The fire in the hearth seemed to dim while the orb took on its own glimmering light. He was not sleepy, yet he felt that peculiar sensation one experiences when one is about to doze off: a disorientation and feeling of falling. The room grew even darker and blurry but the fiery bird grew larger and brighter. It seemed almost to move within the orb, its wings burning but not consumed. Then with a start Kalen realized that he was no longer in the room, but standing on a rocky precipice, nearly barren except for some stunted underbrush. The bird hovered before him, flapping its great wings of flame. He heard Randae’s voice again, as if from a distance. “Kalen... reach out to the Phoenix, call it to you... do not fear the fire... it will not burn you...” He did as the Loremaster said, holding out his hand. It started to come closer... Kalen felt its heat, like a bonfire it seemed, burning his face and hands. “Do not hesitate! You must not fear it... embrace the bird... become the Phoenix! The huge bird was closer now; it felt hot but not unbearable. Around him Kalen saw the scrub burst into flame and the very ground smoke. The Phoenix was so bright, with huge wings like gleaming red and gold metal, its eyes bright lights, as blinding as the sun... “Now, Kalen!!” Randae’s voice was a jolt pushing Kalen forward almost before he could think. He reached out, and without thinking, stepped off the precipice! He cried out as he started to fall, but suddenly the fire was all around him, yet he felt no heat, and his descent slowed to a stop! Kalen was floating above the ground, everything bathed in a reddish haze that brightened until he could see nothing at all. Then the fire dimmed and hovering before him he saw an ornate winged helm or a crown of gold, encrusted with rubies and yellow sapphires flickering with a dazzling fiery light. Kalen’s surroundings grew brighter and he became aware that he was in the center of a great hexagonal chamber. Inlaid in the floor was a map of Jaiman, criss-crossed with curved, glowing lines. The crown floated away from him and settled upon a tall pillar. The pedestal itself was of some dark, smoky glass, and colored lights flickered within. He looked about the room and saw that there were five other pillars arrayed about the perimeter of the hall, and upon each was a crowned helm. Kalen recognized them from his studies: Sea-drake, Gryphon, Unicorn, Pegasus, and Wyvern: the Six Crowns of Jaiman. Some of the crowns seemed dull and old, and no lights glowed on the columns underneath them. One—the Wyvern Helm—was blackened as if it had been in a fire. The Marquess realized that this was a real place somewhere, a nexus that linked the crowns. He did not understand how any of this worked, he just knew somehow that this was the heart of their powers. As the current guardian of the Phoenix Pendant, was now granted some access to the mysteries of these artifacts. Then something shifted; Kalen felt as if there was a change in his contact with the pendant, and he sensed someone… something… in the chamber with him. It was no more than a shadow, lurking at the edge of his peripheral vision, but it was in communication with him and the pendant. He began to float upwards, and the walls of the room dissolved around him. Though the map with the glowing lines remained, it dimmed and receded as he accelerated higher and higher. Kalen realized that -- by some enchantment -- he was somehow viewing the real world as if far above the center of Jaiman at night in a cloudless sky. He could see very far with great clarity. Then, directly below him a white cloud began to form and swirl in a massive spiral. It grew and spread to blanket the entire continent, and through it he could see flickers of lightning beneath. He felt a sense of impending danger… could any storm cover all of Jaiman? Then his gaze was drawn to the south, and by some enhancement of his sight, he glimpsed the jewel of Eidolon floating above Sel-kai, glittering in the night. Further east, Kalen’s vision zoomed to a cluster of tiny green isles jutting from the sea, and within a castle atop one, a tall man all in silver-white was pacing... the man’s head snapped around and it was as if he was almost looking right at Kalen; his eyes were silvery, metallic. He was searching… The Marquess felt his presence pulled away from the man’s gaze just before he could ‘find’ him -- whatever that meant in this strange incorporeal world. Further south and east Kalen turned, towards the center of Emer. The island-mountain of Votania loomed over the inland sea that surrounded it. Lights glimmered upon the summit, yet from the mountain roots a darkness seemed to grow, like tendrils of smoke or black tentacles of an octopus. Deep within the blackness was an angry reddish glow. Kalen sensed something there, beneath the island. A presence... another mind searching... He felt himself drifting towards the darkness, towards Emer. “Kalen you must return... ” Dimly the Marquess heard a voice in his mind, calling him back. The red light... something was looking for him! He knew that he had to hide somehow, but he felt naked; unprotected. And his fiery form must be like a beacon for the searching presence. Still he drew closer. At the heart of the red glow was a huge crimson crystal: oblong and irregular, with quartz-like spikes jutting from it in all directions. And in the center of the Crystal glittered something black… something important. “Kalen, turn away from the darkness, back towards home...” He fought the urge to continue, even as the dark wisps swirling around the crystal coiled towards him. At first the Phoenix-fire singed them, but more appeared, swirling around, drawing him further towards the dark red Crystal. Then some began to penetrate the fire. They touched him... so cold, numbing... The fire surrounding and protecting him was dying, the darkness growing... so cool and dark. He wanted to sleep... Far away Kalen heard voices. They sounded familiar, yet he didn’t understand the words. “Something is wrong! You’ve got to stop it!” “This has been taken from my control; I can do nothing. He must return of his own will. You must not interfere!” “I won’t just stand by! Kalen!” The Marquess was falling slowly now, tumbling down towards the angry red light at the heart of the darkness. But the red light was so cold. This must be what drowning is like, but peaceful... The icy dark enveloped him. I will join with it and it would know me. I will be its servant and the path would be set. Then he felt a rough tugging backwards, and a warmth around him in the darkness. “Kalen!” My name, yes that was my name. And who was calling me? Jad. To go back was to face fear and uncertainty, pain and confusion. It was easier to just drift down into the dark... “Kalen!” But he couldn’t go. Deep down he knew this was not the way, and Jad’s insistent calls gave him strength to turn back. “Kalen!” Kalen opened his eyes—to meet Jad’s intent azure gaze inches away. His look of worry quickly melted into relief. Kalen was lying on the floor shivering, his clothes soaked in cold sweat. Jad was gripping his upper arms, shaking him. Randae was hovering nearby, looking concerned. “Glad you could make it back.” Jad said quietly, helping him up. “Unorthodox, but I’m glad it was effective.” Randae muttered. “No thanks to you!” Jad snapped. “What happened?” Kalen asked, settling back into the chair. He felt light-headed and chilled but otherwise all right. The visions were already fading, like a dream does upon waking. The Loremaster handed him a large glass of brandy. “I’m afraid I hadn’t counted on you going so deep when you attuned the Pendant. There’s something else going on here that I’m not aware of — powers are involved that should not be. At any rate, I believe the attunement was successful, so you’ll be wanting this back.” With his other hand he held out the Phoenix Pendant, holding the end of its chain as if he expected it to burn him at any moment. “Did you… see anything while you were in the trance? Anything like a… vision?” Randae wasn’t sure how to best couch things with this boy, who probably had no experience with visions and foretellings beyond his meeting with the mysterious Seer in Sel-kai. Kalen dropped the chain around his neck, then took a large gulp of the sweet brandy. He slumped back in the chair, trying to remember details of the things he had seen, while also weighing exactly how much he wanted to tell this Loremaster. “It was a kind of vision, or like a dream. I was in a great vaulted chamber, with a map of Jaiman as the floor. Six pillars were set against the walls, each with a crown on it. Then suddenly I was out of the chamber and it was as if I was flying above the continent. A huge white swirling storm covered all of Jaiman, and then I saw to the south, inside the mountain at the center of Emer -- Votania, isn’t it? -- another chamber with a giant crystalline mass floating in it. The crystal glowed red, but it gave off these dark… tentacles… that tried to ensnare me. I was unable to fight them off, and was losing consciousness when Jad brought me back.” “Not a moment wasted then.” Jad stared intently at his cousin, still looking worried. “You got all flushed at first, and began perspiring; that pendant glowed real bright. Then you started to shiver, and you were cold, and your breathing got less and less. I had to do something—Randae wouldn’t!” The Loremaster pursed his lips and turned away. Kalen has seen the Ahrenreth Crystal… why? What relation could it possibly to his future or the Phoenix? He was obviously guided there; who would so endanger his sanity by sending his vision into the heart of the Jerak Ahrenreth? Obviously someone who could insinuate their mind into the Phoenix Pendant attunement process. Randae rubbed the back of his neck. He had much to think about. “Thanks Jad.” Kalen managed to smile. “Well, we can talk about it more over dinner. I’ll bet our rooms are ready, and I for one would like a nap — and a bath.” “I’ll second that, cousin!” Jad smirked. “You’re starting to stink, m’Lord!” “You called, my lord?” Arvelen entered Voriig Kye’s study and nodded his head. “Yes, I’ll be gone for a few days. There is a growing disruption in the Essænce to the north, somewhere over central Jaiman. I intend to investigate. In addition, certain people of interest have suddenly headed in that direction from Sel-kai, and I believe it warrants scrutiny.” “Very good sir. Any instructions?” Voriig paused for a moment as if considering options, then strode out of the room, gesturing for his servant to follow. As he started up the massive spiral stone stair to the roof of his castle, he spoke over his shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone -- including the others -- where I’m going. I don’t think this has anything to do with the Ahrenreth, and I’d prefer to keep my brethren focused on that. Except Ulya of course, who has her new fascination with the pirates of the Melurian Straits.” “Understood, my lord.” Arvelen nodded again. They emerged from a corner tower out onto the flat stone roof, which was surrounded by a crenelated parapet. It was mid-morning, though the overcast sky made it difficult to tell the time of day. Low, heavy clouds churned above them in the chill wind. Arvelen remained by the top of the stair as Voriig strode to the center of the roof, then stopped and stood immobile for a few heartbeats. Then for a moment it seemed as if Voriig wore a great helm fashioned in the shape of a dragon’s head. But the helm only appeared for an instant -- and even then it was ghostly and insubstantial. It was gone again in the blink of an eye, but Voriig himself was bathed in a silvery light. He seemed to shimmer and blur, becoming a pulsating shape that grew and changed. Arvelen turned away and shielded his eyes as an electrically charged whirlwind erupted around where Voriig had stood. With a final booming gust of air and a blast of lightning, the transformation was complete. Where a man had been now crouched a dragon. His body, covered with scales as bright as polished silver, was ten times as long as a man was tall. Lightning crackled over his fanged jaws, between the curved horns that sprouted from his skull, and down the spiny ridge along his back. The Dragonlord Voriig Kye raised his great head and roared with a sound that shook the very stones of the tower. His massive head snaked around on its long neck towards Arvelen, and a pair of huge eyes with slit pupils and silvery irises fixed their gaze on the Elf for a long moment, then blinked. The servant nodded gravely. “Pleasant journey, my Lord.” The dragon nodded slightly then turned away, spread his huge shimmering wings, and leapt up into the sky. The blast of air nearly knocked Arvelen off his feet. The last few days for Kalen seemed like more than a month. So much had happened and he had traveled so far that these old halls in the Avanir House seemed almost foreign to him. He and Jad left Randae in the library and made their way through the villa to their quarters. The cousins had adjoining rooms in Haalkitaine, with a common bath. When they arrived they found that the servants had made up their beds, and already the great copper sphere in the bath was full of hot water, warmed by a stove underneath. Water systems in the larger Haalkitaine households were fairly sophisticated, at least as much so as those in the villas of Sel-kai: large tanks in the bathing rooms were kept full with rain water collected from the roof; overflow was channeled to underground cisterns. Every bath had two tanks: the larger held water that ran to a sink, to the privy (to ‘flush’ away wastes), and to a bathing-tub. Under a smaller tank was a stove, which could be used to heat the water for bathing—it also helped make the room warm on cold days. Water flow from the pipes was controlled by a valve. Thus, when one was ready to bathe, one simply opened the valves and water poured in. One moderated the temperature by controlling the two. Even the facilities at the Barge Inn were not so advanced. Kalen preferred this system to the hovering servants back at the ducal castle at Leathes, though he had to admit that he still enjoyed Jad’s companionship. Of course he was much more than a servant: they were more friends or brothers than lord and squire. And Kalen would not have it any other way. Jad went straight for the tub, opening the valves and pouring in some scented oil. Kalen peeled off his grimy clothes and tossed them on the floor; by the time he got to the white-tiled room Jad was already naked, kneeling by the tub and stirring the water with his hand. Steam swirled up from the water, filling the room with warm, fresh-smelling mist. “It seems like forever since we’ve bathed, doesn’t it?” He called over his shoulder. “But I guess it is only since the inn at Sel-kai a few days ago.” He turned off the valves and climbed in. “Ahhhh! Perfect. Come on Kalen; I’ll wash your back first. Oh and I have my bottle of hair soap handy!” Kalen suddenly felt an unusual self-consciousness at being in such a situation with Jad; unexplainable since they had bathed together since they were little boys. Perhaps he envied his cousin’s increasingly muscular body and the contrast with Kalen’s own slender form. He stepped in and sat between Jad’s legs, his back to the Squire. Jad soaked a sea-sponge and rubbed Kalen’s shoulders with it, gently but firmly massaging his older cousin’s aching muscles. “Kalen, Kalen, Kalen...” Jad sighed, his voice tinged with feigned disappointment. “What?” Kalen demanded with playful indignity. “What have we gotten ourselves into? Loremasters, magic amulets, traveling in flying ships. What next? I’m not saying this Randae Terisonen is a bad sort -- like I would about Lukas’ tutor, that Vit person -- but I get the feeling he has his own plans for you. Here, your neck is so stiff...” He dropped the sponge and began to knead the muscles at the base of Kalen’s neck with his strong hands. Jad could give excellent neck rubs. Between the hot water, the scented air and Jad’s shoulder rub, the Marquess felt himself begin to relax. Jad was right of course: while Rande might have good intentions, the histories were full of accounts of the Loremasters using individuals, families, even entire countries as tools to further the greater good, while those who they used were damaged or destroyed. “I know Randae clearly has his own motives, but it seems I was meant to do this.” Kalen said softly. “I know.” Jad sighed. “And I was meant to go with you.” He added, with an extra squeeze on Kalen’s shoulder muscles. Randae Terisonen went to his guest rooms, washed quickly, and then slipped out of the Avanir villa, all that time mulling Kalen’s vision in his mind. He made his way towards the South Banks. This was the more ‘rough’ section of Haalkitaine, where even one with Randae’s skills needed to be cautious. But the Loremaster knew this city well, and he had many contacts ranging from servants of the Imperial Family to a barkeep in a tavern just off the docks. Randae knew also that at least one member of the Avanir household staff was on the payroll of the Amethyst League, or possibly one of the pirate lords to the south. They in turn, were no doubt selling information to Frelik’s forces. Randae’s last reports were that Rhakhaan was not doing too well in the war against Frelik the Pretender. It would be easier if the Emperor did not also have to deal with raiding by bloodthirsty Y’kin from the south, packs of semihuman creatures encroaching from the Dansart Wastes to the North, and the aggressions of the Priest of Yaarth from the west. It seemed indeed that Haalkitaine was backed up against its one safe side: the Grey Mountains. A faint spray of amber sunlight pierced the clouds, but it was a fleeting reprieve from Haalkitaine’s usual grey ceiling. The morning smelled of snow -- as if the city needed any more. It was only five days into Winter and there was already a foot or more on the ground (except where it had been cleared on the streets and now was in dirty piles clogging the gutters). Randae wished he was in his little home back in the Tanaran hills, sitting by the fire with a nice cup of hot mulled wine. Of course, he was not so distracted that he didn’t hear the faint creak of a boot right behind him. He had taken a shortcut through a narrow, shadowy alley, ignoring the fact that here, among the piles of trash and soot-stained snow, was the perfect place for an ambush. The Loremaster hummed a note and the air seemed to shimmer around him. He whirled around, drawing his saren in a fluid motion. Behind him, now unsteady on his feet after failing to resist Randae’s Stunning Song, was a surprisingly small figure, hooded and draped in grey rags—but one armed with a long slender blade the color of obsidian. “Well, what have we here?” He asked mockingly, using the tip of his long curved sword to deftly pull back his would-be attacker’s hood. The hair was bleached white, but filthy, with black roots an inch long... fine chiseled features almost obscured by grime, and a pair of angry eyes (one blue, one emerald green) glaring at him. A black leather tunic... and of course the long kynac. But... this was a woman! A girl actually, by the look of it, a mere slip of a thing. But why was a Dúranak warrior female here alone in Haalkitaine and reduced to robbery? “Ahhh, not so alone after all.” He turned again, this time face-to-face with a youth nearly his height and considerably more substantial. The boy had blond tousled hair, pale eyes and fair skin under a sheepskin vest, wool pants, and a tattered coat too small for him. Rather than angry, however, he looked worried—and weaponless. The picture came together for the Loremaster. “Don’t be afraid, your girlfriend is not harmed—which is better treatment than I might have gotten from you two.” His muscled shoulders slumped a little in a combination of relief and guilt. “We do not like to do this, but we have no home.” The boy apologized in surprisingly good Erlin. “T’tania and I were banished because...” “I get the picture.” Randae sighed, then hummed three notes. The Dúranak girl snapped out of her paralysis, immediately falling into a battle-ready stance. “Sorcery!” she hissed. “Watch out, Sten.” “Oh please!” Randae rolled his eyes. “I am a Bard, not a Sorcerer -- though I could still vaporize you both without too much effort, so I suggest you behave yourselves.” Fortunately, neither of them was stupid, and they realized the truth of what he said. The girl sheathed her weapon and the boy went to her side; towering more than a foot over her. “That’s better. Now, I’m not really interested in hearing your story about how you were in the Thavan, but you fell in love, even though it is forbidden for the Dúranaki and their Myr servants to marry; and how you were caught and disowned and banished from Tanara. I’ve heard it before. However, if you are interested in getting cleaned up, having a hot meal and possibly working for me, perhaps we can talk.” “Working for you in what capacity?” the girl cocked an eyebrow, unfazed by his insight. The boy, however, gaped in amazement. “Information gatherers, primarily, also occasionally as bodyguards. I have need of smart, strong people who can be observant.” The two launched into an animated discussion using a mixture of hand signals and a language Randae only knew a smattering of: Dúranak. (Though he had lived in Tanara for many centuries, he still had not fully learned the secret language of the Dúranaki.) The Myr boy should not have known it at all; teaching Dúranak to outsiders — even Myr servants — was a very serious crime. “We accept your offer of a meal; employment contingent on more details.” The girl was obviously still suspicious. The boy just looked relieved. “I am T’tania Akintar, and this is Sten.” “Charmed. I am Randae Terisonen. Now let us find an inn where you can clean up and then we’ll eat—I’m starving.” They took a while finding an inn that Randae approved of in the South Banks, but at last settled on the Foam and Feather, a reasonably clean place with excellent food—and the Loremaster also knew the inn’s bartender. Despite their protests, Randae made the young couple go up to a room at the inn and wash before eating. Meanwhile, he went into the great-room, found a table, ordered a flagon of wine (so what if it was mid-morning? He needed a drink), and proceeded to survey the room’s denizens. The south bank docks were mainly for cargo-bearing river vessels, and the clientele went with the territory: mostly rough dockworkers of Shay or mixed Northman stock, mingled with the down-and-out, and a few other questionable character. As it was early, the place was mostly empty though the lunch crowd was starting to trickle in. Randae was barely through his first glass when Gerndar the barkeep stopped by. “How’s the wine, Rand?” the tall Laan asked over the din of other conversations. He slid into the seat opposite Randae. “Bitter and watered-down as usual, but it will do.” Sighed Randae in mock resignation. He was drinking fine undiluted Danarchan wine -- the best Gerndar offered -- and they both knew it. “I hate to say it but I’m glad to see you, O sarcastic Elf!” laughed the innkeep. Then he leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “There have been strange doings in Haalkitaine—and I don’t just mean Princess Morgana’s rantings!” He was referring to the Emperor’s older sister, by all accounts a raving lunatic. It was said that she wandered the palace halls babbling to herself and accusing random servants of being demons. She was generally pitied by the population, but also the butt of many a joke. “More strange than the consistency of your chowder?” Randae couldn’t resist. But Gerndar was serious. “A man was here just earlier today asking after you—said he knew you came here now and then. He was fairly tall, with fair complexion and raven hair—Elven I’m sure, but different somehow. His eyes were the deepest blue, and he had an odd accent—very formal.” Gerndar paused dramatically. “ And I’ve heard rumors that the ‘man-with-no-name’ from the south has been seen in Sel-kai, with his Changramai. Doesn’t seem surprising, what with the Pretender headed this way.” “I believe the one you are referring to with the Changramai bodyguard calls himself ‘the Nameless One,’ smirked Randae. “And I doubt he would come looking for me, especially here. Did this man say what he wanted?” “Well... “ The innkeeper looked up, “I guess you can ask him yourself.” He nodded towards the door and hastily scuttled away. The Loremaster twisted around to see what had frightened Gerndar off. In the shadowed entryway stood a figure in a full-length black cloak. As Randae watched, he pulled back his deep hood, revealing a smooth youthful face with light brown skin, handsome features, and close-cropped black hair. He was perhaps part Loar Elf and Laan. He scanned the room, his eyes not even meeting the Bard’s, then walked right up to Randae. “May I share your table?” He spoke in Iylar—the tongue of the high Elves—with an unusual accent and turn of phrase. “As you wish.” Randae was dying to cast a Lore spell on the man, but that was not done in polite company, nor with someone of such fame (if indeed this was the infamous Nameless One). The black-robed man sat, his hands hidden in his sleeves. He fixed his deep blue eyes on the Bard’s before saying “Haalkitaine you must leave by the stroke of midnight. You should not have returned here at all; it is perilous, for you and the boys you have taken under your wing. ” “You mean Kalen and Jad?” Randae blurted out, then clamped his mouth shut in horror. He was not usually the one to volunteer information to strangers. But this — person—had such a powerful gaze that even the Loremaster was taken off guard. His tanned face was framed by the voluminous hood folded across his shoulders. The purple silk lining made the man’s eyes seem almost violet. Randae also noted the strange shimmering quality of the cloak, a dark iridescence that reminded him of a black opal. “Yes.” He nodded. “If you don’t leave by then you won’t be able to. And you and your young friends have an important… errand. To the south you must go, though not back to Sel-kai. Nomikos should be safe enough for now.” “But we just came from the south. May I ask how you know so much?” As he spoke, Randae gave in to his curiosity and cast a Life Lore spell on the man. He was barely able to conceal his surprise from what he got: a whirlwind of images, beings and places stretching far back into the past. Then he was abruptly and completely blocked—like a steel door slammed in his face. In that moment, though, he gathered two things: this was not the Nameless One, and he was not an Elf, though he was obviously immortal. “I hope you learned what you wanted.” The man smiled tightly as he stood. “I suggest you secure the services of the Starwind again; it is a good ship. And that Navigator... Sulfean I believe. You can afford it I am certain; you Loremasters have more gold than the gods, and it’s about time you spent it on something useful.” “If it’s so urgent that we leave, I could just have a Navigator Jump us to Nomikos.” Randae was immediately more suspicious when this stranger suggested a specific ship to take. “You know it’s already too late for that; it has been for days. Can’t you feel it in the Essænce, Loremaster?” The man practically sneered the last word as he rose from the table. Then he turned and strode out, his cloak furling elegantly in his wake. Randae scowled. The man was right of course, a disruption was building in the Flows. Any sort of Teleport was impossible now. He wondered how widespread this effect was, and what the Navigators were doing to cover their failure. Randae was still trying to make sense of what he had just seen, and heard, and absorbed, when his new associates arrived. The transformation was remarkable; they were well-scrubbed and in clean clothes (which he’d had Gerndar round up for them; though the boy’s clothing was a bit small for him it was better than what he’d had on). “When will our things be returned to us?” The girl snapped. “You still have in your possession what equipment you possessed before. I’m having your clothes cleaned, and if they do not disintegrate, they will be returned.” Randae said dryly. The boy – Sten – suppressed a laugh and his girlfriend shot him a look before returning her attention to Randae. “Just who are you, and why are you offering charity to two foreigners?” “First, young lady, I am not offering you charity; you will work hard for your pay. And as to who I am… have you heard of the Loremasters?” The girl’s eyes widened a fraction. “You are a Loremaster? I’m sorry, but it makes your interest in our skills seem even more incredible. “ “We can debate that later; in the meantime, please eat up,” he said testily. “We are suddenly in a bit of a hurry. I hope you are up for a little trip.” After the bath Jad and Kalen snacked on some bread, cheese, apples and honey brought to their sitting room. Kalen was also brought a note from Randae saying he had to go out but would return late this afternoon. Jad suggested a nap before dinner, which suited Kalen fine; sleep aboard the skyship had not been all that restful, and he still felt drained after the attunement. They slipped under a down quilt on Kalen’s large bed. It seemed like only moments had passed after his head touched the pillow, however, when Jad was gently shaking Kalen’s shoulder. “The dictators of our schedule have summoned us, M’lord,” he joked. “Dinner is to be served.” They dressed in clean shirts, silk breeches and dining coats, and made their way downstairs. Kalen’s mother greeted them at the dining room door, ageless and beautiful. She kissed each of the youths lightly on the cheek. “This visit is a pleasant surprise,” she said softly, maintaining her usual mixture of formality and closeness. “You must tell me all about Sel-kai over dinner. Jad’s mother has already been seated.” She led them into the private family dining chamber, a windowless room with dark wood paneling. Kalen hadn’t been here in months; it seemed strange to be back here in the dark and somber city residence after the brighter Sel-kai. At the long table sat Irina, Kalen’s mother’s twin sister, who was also Jad’s mother. She was practically motionless, seeming to stare vacantly at some point far away. She did not acknowledge Kalen or her own son, or notice anything around her. As dinner was served, a maidservant appeared at her side and fed her small portions of mashed food. Irina opened her mouth, chewed and swallowed, but it was as if she were in a trance. Irisa made small talk with her son and nephew, inquiring about life in Sel-kai and how it differed socially and politically from Haalkitaine. Kalen was surprised at how knowledgeable his mother was about the government players in that Emerian city But somewhere in the third course, the butler interrupted dinner. “Deepest apologies, Lady Avanir, but I have an urgent message for the Marquess.” He handed Kalen a parchment envelope sealed with silvery wax. It was a note from Randae: Kalen -- We must depart immediately; will explain later. You and Jad meet me at the Starwind’s dock—number five—before the stroke of midnight. Be punctual! -- R. T. It seemed that his return to Haalkitaine would be at least as brief as he had wanted.
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