Chapter 27: The Storm Journal of Kalen Avanir TE 6051, Orhan 1 (Winter), Evening of Day 6 (Maryen) Avanir Villa, Haalkitaine Rhakhaan I write this as Jad is stuffing a few remaining things into our bags. I offered to help, but sometimes he can take his duties as my Squire seriously. It was awkward to ask to be excused from dinner so abruptly -- and to explain that in fact Jad and I had to leave Haalkitaine less than a day after our arrival. But my mother took the news calmly; in fact she almost did not even seem surprised. She did ask to see us before we left. I have been wondering what changes would occur after my attunement to the Phoenix Pendant, and I suppose some part of me hoped for a sudden rush of insight. I was, unfortunately, disappointed. However, in the last few hours I have felt strange feelings creep up into my consciousness. They are not even fully formed thoughts, and they almost seem to be my own ideas popping into my head, and yet they seem foreign. Even now I sense a yearning to remain here in Haalkitaine, the capital of Rhakhaan and home of the Pendant; I know this desire does not come from within me. Gladly, though, these urges seem to have no desire or power to compel me to do anything against my own will. They are merely little twinges. There are other, less well-formed impressions as well. One relates to a revulsion against that great red crystal, and another suggests a similar distaste for Lukas’ tutor Yandar Vit. It reassures me now, though, that for some reason I am no longer anxious when thinking of Vit; I just know that he is not to be trusted. As for the actual magical powers that this pendant might possess, it appears not to be willing to impart that knowledge to me… at least not yet. So now we find ourselves once again about to set off on a journey at the bidding of the Loremaster Randae Terisonen. While he has shown himself so far to be trustworthy, I wonder at his larger motives. He obviously has some plan for me -- and perhaps also for Jad -- that he has not revealed to us. The last few weeks have admittedly been exciting, and I have always enjoyed travel, but right now I feel like I am being swept along by forces beyond my control or understanding. Though I suppose that has always been the way in my life: puppet to responsibilities of being a noble of Rhakhaan. Perhaps I should enjoy this holiday while it lasts… until my father calls me back to Prevan and lays upon me my duties. Yet I still -- High above Haalkitaine in the thickening clouds, Voriig Kye circled tirelessly, his vast silvery wings barely moving as he rode thermal updrafts and Essænce eddies. In the latter forces he sensed a tremendous gathering of power, a vast spell about to be unleashed on Jaiman. But what was it? It smelled of Arcane magic. While the mystery of it was intriguing, he did not care for surprises. The last time he was truly taken by surprise was when Morloch the Ordainer betrayed and almost killed him. A great flap of his wings and the Silver Dragon sped toward the heart of Jaiman and the source of the spell. The cousins were just about to leave their rooms when there was a soft knock at the door. Jad leapt to answer it, but then cracked the door open cautiously. He was as more on-edge than Kalen since Randae’s urgent note, and it was obvious by his pent-up energy. But it was Kalen’s mother Irisa, now dressed in a long quilted robe of printed and embroidered silk. She slipped in, bearing two small round boxes of polished wood. Behind her in the doorway stood Irina, her expression as vacant as ever. “I know you boys are in a rush to leave again...” Irisa began hesitantly. Of course Kalen immediately stopped rifling through his bag and set it aside. “It’s all right, mother. We were just on our way down to see you before we left. Please come in.” Irisa led her sister into the room and settled her on a divan before gracefully seating herself. “I have a feeling you will be away for some time, and I wanted to give you boys something.” It was then that Kalen noticed that his mother carried a matched pair of small wood boxes. She set one aside but kept the oter, her fingers sliding absently over the dark polished surface. “I want you two to have these. They were given to Irina and me by our mother, who said they came to her from our father, of whom she had never spoken before, and never did again. Even we were never told his name or where he came from.” Irisa hesitated then, the look on her face pensive, as if she was remembering a past long gone. In a rare display of initiative, Irina placed her hand on her sister’s and seemed to squeeze it slightly. Appearing not to notice, Irisa continued. “Our mother said they would bring good luck. I suppose Irina’s failed her, though she hadn’t been wearing it that day. The Lords know if things would be any different if she had. But the end result…” she turned her gaze on her nephew, “No matter your origins, Jad, I know Kalen could not have asked for a better companion than you.” The Squire blushed crimson. Kalen’s mother opened one of the boxes. Inside was a bracelet, perhaps as wide as three fingers, fashioned of a metal that shone with a soft silver finish. Inlaid in an unbroken ring around the band and framed by the metal was a wide strip of a shimmering blue-green crystalline material. Kalen had never seen the like of it; though it resembled opal in some ways, it seemed to have a light of its own. And no single gemstone could have been fashioned in a circle so large. The Marquess surmised that this might be the enchanted transparent material known as laen. Like glass, laen could be softened and formed in many shapes. Unlike glass, which melted at very high heat, most laens grew soft and malleable only when exposed to unnaturally extreme cold. At normal temperatures, laen had the hardness of glass combined with a superior tensile strength that made it nearly unscratchable and unbreakable. Blades fashioned of laen had the terrible sharpness of a shard of glass, yet could cut without chipping or shattering. It was a truly remarkable material, and enchanted by its very nature. Kalen had long suspected that the Pheonix of his pendant was in fact embedded in a small sphere of clear laen. Without a word, Irisa took out the band and gestured for Kalen to raise his left arm. She slid the bracelet over his hand, and then wrapped her fingers over it. It shrank before his eyes to fit snugly but comfortably over his wrist! Then she opened the other box and placed an identical wristband in Irina’s hand. Jad offered his arm, and, guided by her sister, Irina slid it over Jad’s left hand. Of her own volition she grasped the band, causing it to somehow shrink to fit snugly around her son’s muscled wrist, just as Kalen’s had. Kalen’s mother rose then, Irina at her side. “I know not what—if any—powers these possess, except that they are very old. They are perhaps of Iylar making, but even of that I am not sure. May they keep you safe and close.” She embraced each young man briefly, then turned and guided her sister out the door, closing it behind them. Jad looked to Kalen with one of his expressions of What in Charon was that all about? But as they both held up their wristbands towards each other, the insets that ran around the bands began to emit a soft, shifting glow. Aboard the Starwind, Randae Terisonen stood on deck peering uneasily at the overcast sky while the crew made ready to cast off. The air was heavy with the dry, biting smell of snow. A clock in the city began to chime midnight just as Jad and Kalen came trotting up the gangplank. Randae thought to himself not for the first time what an interesting pair they made. “We would have been here sooner,” Kalen puffed, “but we think we were being followed. I believe we lost him though.” “Very good. Now get below to your cabin and stay there; we’re leaving.” The cousins exchanged glances but didn’t argue. A few moments later a figure in a slate-grey hooded robe nodded to the crewman stationed at the foot of the gangplank, and strode swiftly up onto the ship to join the Loremaster. Kim threw the deep hood back as he approached, and Randae watched the robe shift in color from a mottled dark grey to ship-deck brown on the lower half and night-black above the waist. “Nice chameleon robe.” The Loremaster glanced at the Changramai warrior then away again. “Not as good as Invisibility, but it’s helpful at times. Other times it goes a little crazy and I just have to order it to stop.” Kim said with a little snort. “Any trouble?” “A couple of thugs were planning to intercept Kalen and Jad, tipped off I believe by someone in the Avanir household.” “Sent by whom?” Randae’s eyes narrowed as he continued to stare off into the night. “They carried some obvious trappings of a rival house here in Haalkitaine, but I suspect they were hired by someone else, possibly from Sel-kai.” “Or the Iron Wind.” The Loremaster said, barely above a whisper. “Perhaps. I found no other evidence; however, my search was of necessity… cursory. They carried no money, no papers, no identifying itmes besides livery and knives bearing the Sanaria seal.” “Indeed. A bit obvious.” Sulfean stepped up to join Randae and Kim. He seemed to materialize out of the deeper shadows on the lamplit deck, dressed as he was all in black, from hooded cloak to tunic, breeches and boots. “I shudder to think what this is costing you, Loremaster.” The Navigator said softly, his angelic Linaer face betraying no emotion. “Chartering a skyship and making Captain Nankara dump her cargo at a loss, not to mention my fees...” “I’m trying not to think about it. What about this weather?” “I assume you want my professional opinion, though I suspect you can sense it as well as I can: the air is heavy with the Essaence—and a vast snowstorm of artificial origin. We leave with little time to spare; beginning a quintar ago, even I would not have attempted a Jump from or to Jaiman -- even with my Compass. There is a massive Essænce disturbance building here, almost like a Flowstorm, but without the storm itself. It seems… so… unnatural.” Randae thought he saw the tall slender Elf shudder just slightly. “Just So.” Randae nodded thoughtfully. “And the Flowstorm may be yet to come.” As if to reinforce their worst fears, the sky was lit by an eerie green flickering light far off to the northwest. The trio stood in silence, all waiting. The thunder came several long moments later. Sulfean continued. “Even if we leave immediately, there will be some interference with my Wind spells, and the snow will begin any moment now. What is our destination?” The Navigator shrugged his cloak off one shoulder and drew out his Compass, a complex instrument of gold reminiscent of an ornate sextant, with lenses and glittering jeweled knobs. “Southwest, to Ormian. We need to do some research.” Sulfean arched an eyebrow. “Indeed. Hopefully it is beyond the power of this force. I shall make preparations. Meanwhile, I believe your new charges wish to speak to you.” Then without another word he turned away and headed aft. Meanwhile, Randae’s ‘charges’ from the bar came forward. The Dúranak girl looked suspicious, the Myr just apprehensive. “What exactly are we to do?” The girl asked finally. “For now, stay out of the way. Hold on to something; this could be bumpy. Better yet, get below. See the cabin boy over there about a room. We’ll discuss the details later.” She opened her mouth but Randae had already started for the poop deck at the rear of the ship. Captain Nankara was at the wheel and shouting orders to her crew as they scrambled over the deck and rigging. The Loremaster watched them work, awed a bit by their iron will: even when sailing miles in the sky, they would climb out on the rigging with no safety rope. Half a dozen more men waited on the dock holding mooring ropes. Sulfean stood at the railing, staring into the sky. “How soon before we can depart?” Randae asked the captain. “Momentarily! I will not be rushed.” The tall Laan woman snapped. “Taking off from the water and without the facilities of Eidolon is a little more demanding than just casting off from skydock.” She turned to her first mate, who stood with another man at a windlass, one hand on a nearby lever. He nodded to her, tightening his grip. Sulfean strode quickly to stand by Randae and the captain. “The storm is upon us! We must leave at once!” On the Navigator’s usually expressionless face Randae thought he detected a faint betrayal of—uncertainty? Fear? Impossible. The Guides of Vurn-kye in particular prided themselves on their stoic aloofness. Nankara looked annoyed. “Navigators! He forgets who the captain is here,” she muttered. But Randae saw the tension on her face. If Sulfean was worried, then there was good reason for concern. Just then a crewman called the ‘all ready’ from the rigging. Nankara rang the final ascent warning bell and braced herself at the wheel. “Stage One!” She called out. The mate pulled the release lever, then he and the other crewman began to slowly turn the windlass. The ship trembled as a system of gears and chains controlled the unfolding of the Xenium plates towards the bottom of the hull. After two full turns, they stopped and the Mate pulled the lever back. Meanwhile, Sulfean – now facing forward in front of the wheel -- templed his fingers, obviously concentrating on a spell. A faint blue-violet aura danced along his hands. He thrust his arms out to his sides, and translucent tendrils of light fanned outwards, splashing over the sails and the crew, and finally expanding and swirling around the ship like a huge, ethereal soap bubble. The Starwind creaked and bobbed upward, rising perhaps twice a man’s height before being held steady by the mooring ropes. There was a great sound like a waterfall as water cascaded off the hull of the ship and back down into the river. “Stage Two!” Nankara’s voice cut through the night, and the first mate pulled the lever and cranked the windlass around again, while crewmen extended the ventral sail spars and began unfurling the mainsail. Then the world ripped apart. Voriig sped northwest towards the center of Jaiman, suspecting that his goal would be the Isle of Ghosts, located on the southern of the great lakes in this small continent. It was a natural Flow Nexus, and he had long sensed unusual Essænce from that area. Others had tapped the power of that Flow and directed it; the Crowns of the Six Kingdoms were a prime example. The Silver Dragon had of course discerned the source of the power of the Crowns of Jaiman, and had assumed that there was something on the Isle of Ghosts that served as a central control point for the artifacts and their powers over the land, though he had never investigated too deeply into it. Jaiman had never been of much concern to him, and if Sulthon Ni’shaang could not figure it out on his own, that was his failing. And over the last few millennium, Voriig had grown reluctant to meddle in the affairs of men and Elves, choosing instead to retreat to his islands. He had surprised himself recently, however, in his desire to take action to protect the little mammals from outside forces… forces like the insane Essænce Lord Ondoval. And now he was winging to the Isle of Ghosts, wondering what could be causing this disturbance The Crowns had tremendous power over the weather in their kingdoms, but this trumped anything previous: someone had channeled a controlled Flowstorm across all of Jaiman. It was an undertaking that even Voriig could not imagine. It was madness. Lighting flickered in the clouds around the Silver Dragon as he drew closer. Some of the flashes carried a troubling greenish tint, betraying without question that this was a storm of magical power. Then he saw something directly ahead of him. Improbably, it was a horse and rider, a mile in the sky. The rider carried a staff, and the horse seemed to gallop in slow motion through the air. Voriig knew who it was, of course: one of the Storm Heralds; the only other trained flying horses he knew about where the Steardan of Tanara, and they had wings. By the Storm Heralds belonged with their master in Emer; what was one doing here? The Herald had almost reached him when he knew the answer. Looming back behind the rider in the midst of a vast cloud – invisible to anyone with lesser natural vision that a Dragon -- was a castle perched on massive floating rock. The Storm Wizard was a little far from home. The night sky above Sel-kai city, in contrast to that over Jaiman, was crystal clear and glittering with stars. Orhan was a thin sickle and the moon Varin was new, so the twinkling points of light in the firmament had relatively little competition. Lord Lukas Austrenos, standing alone on a balcony off of one of several sitting rooms in Minister Koren Maas’ villa, leaned his hands on the icy-cold, polished marble railing and took a deep, invigorating breath. The room behind him had been hot and stuffy, and his head felt like it was filled with cotton. My Lord, are you feeling well?” Lukas didn’t bother to turn around, he recognized the voice of that other Loremaster, Luronen Moje. “Yes, it was just so damned close in there, I needed some air.” “Understandable. You did look a bit flushed.” “I appreciate your concern.” Lukas said as sarcastically as he could. “Well then I’ll leave you.” Lukas heard the Loremaster leave and the door close, but a moment later he sensed footsteps behind him. He spun around to find himself face-to face with his host, Koren Maas. The Security Minister looked down at him indulgently with those green eyes and smiled in a way that Lukas could only interpret as condescending. He held a glass of gold wine in each hand and offered one to the Viscount. “Were you not enjoying my reception, my Lord? I know that Sel-kai trade discussions can become tedious.” “Just needed some fresh air.” Lukas eyed the offered wine warily. “A cool drink may help, this is chilled chardonnay from Namar-Tol.” “Well, one more glass of wine couldn’t hurt…” Lukas couldn’t help noticing how the Security Minister’s crystal pendant glittered in the starlight. “I’m disappointed that your fellow visiting nobleman, the Marquess of Endar, did not attend. We tried to reach him but he was unavailable.” Lukas struggled to not choke on his wine. “I haven’t seen him for a couple of days, so I don’t know what he’s been up to.” “Indeed. Well next time you see him, please give him my regards.” Maas idly twirled the chain above his pendant between thumb and forefinger, causing the clear jewel to twirl and flash. Inside the sitting room, Seylars – dressed in a fine brocaid tunic and his hair perfectly styled – turned to the balcony as if listening… and smiled to himself. One thing Kalen had heard about skyships and found to be true on the trip north: it was almost always cold on the ship, no matter the temperature on the ground. On deck, the winds high above ground—though mild in force—could deliver a bitter chill; and the cold of high altitudes penetrated even into the tiny staterooms. The cousins shared the same quarters as before: a room provided with several built-in cabinets, a little flip-down desk and seat, and a single small (though soft) feather bed with down comforter. The bed was hung on gimbals, which allowed it to remain level no matter what the angle of the ship. While airborne skyships did not pitch like seagoing vessels, they often banked steeply to turn. A small brazier hanging in the center of the room gave off some heat, but Kalen was certain that the temperature was still nearly freezing. Of course it was winter and the air outside was probably well below freezing at this time of night. Jad busied himself with stowing their bags while the Marquess tried to muster a bit more heat from the embers in the brazier. Neither one of them had any desire to be on deck as they set off this time—Randae had told them to stay in their cabin anyway. Kalen knew from watching skyships land and take off from Haalkitaine that -- unlike the usual skyship descent method of a long slow glide into a body of water -- ascent from a water-dock was usually achieved more directly, and in a manner not unlike a departure from Eidolon. The Xenium plates were cranked shut over the lower hull, and their gravity-resisting powers were brought into play. The ship rose straight into the air, guided from the ground by ropes and if necessary by a Navigator until it cleared the dock. Then, the sails were unfurled and the ship steered away, rising steadily to cruising altitude. The final departure chime sounded before they were even settled. They heard -- as well as felt -- the heavy clanking of chains and gears as the overlapping metal plates unfolded towards each other beneath them. Jad finished stowing the few possessions they had brought this time and turned from the bureau holding a pair of small pewter cups. “There was brandy in the cabinet—I thought it might warm us up.” He smiled. Without a word Kalen accepted the offered cup. They toasted and drank it in one swallow. The thick, sweet liquid set Kalen’s throat afire before smoldering in his gut. Jad refilled their cups and they drank again, then he put aside the pewter goblets. “Ready to retire, M’lord?” He asked. When he addressed his cousin as ‘M’lord’ there was always a teasing to his tone, making the address seem even more familiar than calling Kalen by name. “Not much else to do, I suppose; might as well try to sleep—“ Just then the ship began to rise, slowly pulling free of the hungry water and beginning a stomach-turning ascent. They both grabbed on to the bed, which was fortunate, because a moment later there was a sound like a thunderclap above them, and the Phoenix Pendant burst into brilliant crimson light—bright as a dozen lamps. They had barely regained their balance when the Starwind surged upward while simultaneously turning and listing so much that the floor was halfway towards becoming a wall. They both let out a yell of surprise and struggled to hold on as the bed swung to stay level... From the northwest came a flash of lurid green lightning – far brighter than the previous display. For an instant it turned the night to eerie day, illuminating everything in stark light and shadow. There followed utter silence and darkness for the space of perhaps three heartbeats, during which everyone was frozen in surprise—except Sulfean. He alone fully understood what that flash foretold, even as he felt his spell of Wind Mastery torn from his grasp. The tall Elf braced himself, and, turning towards the lightning, called upon the full power of his Compass. While not as knowledgeable in such matters as Sulfean, Randae had a pretty good idea of what was about to happen. He grabbed the nearest railing and shouted “Hold on!” At the same time, Nankara and her mate heard Sulfean’s urgent thought voiced in their heads: Drop the panels to Stage Five and come hard around to the southeast -- NOW! Nankara shouted commands to her crew, trusting the Navigator implicitly. Next came deafening thunder, a sound so loud as to press against one’s very eardrums. A moment later the Starwind began to spin and lunge upward seemingly on its own power, tearing the mooring ropes from the dockmens’ hands. And finally the wind: like a great hammer it smashed into the aft port side of the ship just as she was turning with it—and that she had swung around that far is possibly what saved her from capsizing. Even so, her structure protested with awful creaks and groans. She pitched prow down and hard to starboard, lurching forward and earthward towards the docks at a terrifying angle. Men on the rigging were tossed about like rag dolls—and one crewman was thrown from the foremast, falling towards certain death on the pier. But Sulfean, rock-steady and lit in a shimmering blue-white radiance, thrust his hands out and up, sending a surge of light out from his body to engulf the plummeting ship. Then with one hand he reached swiftly forward as if to grasp something, and a filament of light whipped out from his fingers to ensnare the tumbling crewman and stop his fall. To those on board the gale seemed to die away. Starwind’s bow began to angle up. Randae clutched the balustrade, wishing he could help. But he knew that he dared not try magic; it could backfire and endanger the Navigator. Only Sulfean’s spells, reinforced by his Compass, had any chance in this maelstrom. No other item could temper and channel the Flows better than the Compasses. There were those among the Loremasters who coveted these artifacts, which the Navigator Guilds had managed to nearly monopolize. Randae could understand that sentiment: the Compasses would be a powerful tool in their fight against the Unlife, but like many items of great power, the Compasses carried with them their own special dangers. Even as it hurtled forward, the ship slowly leveled off and turned, encased in an iridescent sphere of Essaence. Sulfean drew the semiconscious crewman in and lowered him onto the deck, where his mates ran to help him. The Starwind swept over the landscape south of Haalkitaine, dangerously low over the treetops but slowly gaining altitude. Flying so close to the ground, the ship’s speed seemed breakneck. “I didn’t think we were going to make it through that in one piece.” Kim said under his breath as he loosened his grip on the ship’s railing. “I wasn’t sure either. A less experienced Navigator, and I fear we would be kindling against the walls of Haalkitaine about now.” It was about then that the snow began, swirling outside the sphere like a blinding white enclosure, but only a few flakes drifted inside. Finally the Navigator relaxed a bit, shoulders slumping as the sphere around them dimmed to a phantom glimmer. He drew out his Compass and looked through the device towards the south while making a few adjustments to the its jeweled levers. The ship turned slightly and the snow in front of the Starwind thinned out somewhat -- enough that Randae at least could see a hundred feet or so ahead. It seemed that the ship was continuing to gain altitude as well. He approached Sulfean slowly. “That was spectacular.” He said softly. “Thank you.” “Not as spectacular as my fee.” The corner of Sulfean’s mouth twitched just a bit. “But now that things are under control, I am a bit tired. I shall be in my cabin.” He pulled his black cloak over his shoulders and strode away. Voriig ignored the rider and continued towards the castle. The Herald made no effort to impede him, but instead swung around and flew alongside as if escorting him. The Dragonlord was impressed that he could keep up. He circled the castle once, found a paved area large enough to easily land on – it was probably the staging area for the Heralds – and made his descent. A moment later he was in human form again. He straightened his robe and headed in through a large open archway just as the snowflakes began to swirl down amidst rumbling thunder. He didn’t bother to look back when he heard the clatter of hooves on the flagstones behind him, but a moment later the Herald was walking next to him. “I am the Unicorn Herald, I will guide you to my master.” “If you insist.” They wound through the mazelike castle and finally up into a tower room. The Herald stepped aside and bowed slightly, gesturing for Voriig to enter the chamber. The circular room had no furnishings, only an elaborate ironwork structure hanging from the ceiling that hung down in the center of the room with three large prongs wrapping around and holding a huge crystal orb. The orb glowed with a soft light that constantly changed color. While he wasn’t completely certain, he was fairly sure that this was one of the Master Ilarsíri, the seeing orbs made by Tethior and Andraax. An elderly-looking man, beardless but with a mane of wild white hair, was facing the orb and staring into it. He spoke without looking away. “Greetings, Dragonlord Voriig Kye. It seems like my activities have garnered quite a bit of interest.” It was only then that the Dragonlord realized that there was a third person in the room. From around the orb stepped a man with short ebony hair and wearing a shimmering purple-black tunic. Instantly Voriig knew that he was in the presence of none other than Andraax the Essænce-lord. Kalen and Jad lay sprawled on the bed—paralyzed in terror —for several minutes after the cabin ceased its wild tilting. Kalen realized after awhile that he was possessed by some unrealistic fear: that if he moved, it would cause the ship to capsize. Finally Jad spoke, his voice muffled because his face was partially buried in the sheets. “Kalen, my guts are still down in the city! Please promise we will never get on one of these things again!” Kalen didn’t answer, but reluctantly disentangled himself and crawled across the bed to a porthole. The Starwind was still listing, and the ship creaked loudly in protest against some powerful wind. But at least it was nearly upright and seemed relatively stable. Kalen looked out, but all he could see was a swirl of grey. A few large flakes brushed against the glass, and beyond was a wall of snow. Then the Marquess felt an arm across his shoulders, and his cousin’s face was next to his, peering into the night. “Kalen... what’s happening?” Kalen felt a tightness in his chest; fear tinged Jad’s voice, but he was trusting his cousin to explain this turn of events. The Marquess tried to swallow the lump in his throat as Jad’s fingers entwined with his, their twin bracelets touching. The cabin door banged open and in leaned Randae. “How was that for a takeoff!” The cousins spun around and away from each other self-consciously. “Don’t you know how to knock, Loremaster?” Jad huffed indignantly. Randae said nothing for a moment but Kalen was sure he saw a smirk play across the Loremaster’s mouth before he continued. “Next time lock the door, then. This is a ship, not your palace—you’re lucky to have any privacy at all. And by the way, ‘you’re welcome’ for safely getting your sniveling little noses out of Haalkitaine before the Flowstorm hit.” “Safely—ha!” Jad snarled, scooting out of the bed. “This looks like a snowstorm to me.” Kalen gestured towards the porthole. “Indeed. However, there is a powerful Essænce driving it. Someone wants to interfere in the war. In any event, if it wasn’t for Sulfean, we would all have been dashed to little bits against the ramparts of your fine city. Even now, we are hurtling south at over thirty knots, riding on the outer fringe of the storm.” “That’s all fine,” Kalen said, forcing himself to look Randae in the eye, “But it’s time you told me what this is all about. What did we really accomplish by going to Haalkitaine in the first place besides attuning this pendant—and why are we rushing off again despite the peril? I have gone along with this because of the reputation of the Loremasters, but really, I think I deserve an explanation.” Randae inclined his head. “Just so, My Lord. I wish I had an adequate one to provide. However, I can only be guided by cryptic hints in ancient prophecies, visitations by powerful strangers, and my own intuition. Things are afoot, and this storm only reinforces my suspicions. The world is changing; for better or worse, I don’t know. What I do know is that you, Kalen Avanir, and you, Jad Hurok, have important parts to play in this drama—far more important than the petty political squabbles of the Rhakhaan Empire. We are headed to Nomikos, where I hope we may gain more insights. As for our visit to Haalkitaine, we didn’t achieve everything I had hoped because I was warned to leave when we did; now you see why. But our trip was not without value. “And now, I’ll leave you boys alone to continue with whatever it is you were doing…” He departed down the passage, leaving the door to swing open. Jad muttered a curse under his breath and moved to close the door when it shimmered with a dim light, and—seemingly on its own—swung shut with a bang, and locked of its own accord. “Magic!” Jad growled and made the warrior’s sign against sorcery, more out of reflex than anything else. Magic was something neither of them had much exposure to, yet in the last few days they’d witnessed more than in their entire lives previously -- excepting perhaps the strange experiences of Gryphon College a few years back. And sometimes Kalen thought that was half-dream. After summarily dismissing the evil, the Squire then turned to his cousin and furrowed his brows. “I don’t understand exactly what he just said but I do know he was making fun of us.” “You got that right, cousin,” Kalen sighed. They crawled under the down covers, and while Kalen was still nervous, and flinched every time the ship creaked, eventually he slept, Jad snoring softly next to him. He was floating in the sky, not aboard the Starwind but flying as he did in the vision with the Phoenix pendant. Once again Votania loomed ahead, a dark shape beneath a sickle of Orhan. This time the dark presence was not searching for him; it was preoccupied elsewhere. He rushed closer and suddenly was inside the mountain, winging through a maze of corridors and vast subterranean halls. What was this place and what did it mean? He arrived at a grand threshold where doors of tinted glass parted to allow his entrance. Here was a cavernous chamber, and hovering in the center was a massive red jewel, twice his height. Deep within the crystal a crimson light pulsed like a heartbeat, yet within that light there was a shadow, a dark core. Beneath the jewel, eight thrones clustered around an octagonal table. This table was of black marble and at least twenty feet across. Something about the table… the jewel, they held a secret… Then he sensed a presence behind him: someone or something was near, and it sensed his intrusion… With a catch of breath Kalen awoke, the bed rocking on its gimbals. Through the porthole the sky was black. The ship creaked and the wind roared outside. Jad was asleep, every exhale a billow of steam. Eventually Kalen was able to get back to sleep, and dreamt no more that night.
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