30th Orovost, 998 NE
“They have slain Chalibros,” Ord Ylon whispered.
Kayn had known for a week that Phanar and his friends had slain Ylon’s son, and didn’t mention it, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t find out. But he’d grown paranoid after the first two had died. He’d been and checked.
The first time he had roared and raged, like a forest fire that might consume half the world. The second time he had shrieked, screamed, like a storm-wind of such force to rip away every single blade of grass that lived, whittle mountains down to nubs as though they were carved of wood.
Then he had found Ulu Hariskar, and in his absence another of his brood had fallen.
This, the third time – he had changed again, and so still she had no concept of how to respond. Her children were safe; she checked on them weekly. The thane of her fire-giants was a man who’d never met her in person, inheritor of the title from his father, and his father before him; but they were used to her mental intrusions, and the current thane was only too eager to report those things her own sons and daughters declined to mention in their conversations. She knew everything that happened in her ancient abode, from Vidar’s attempts to suborn the cerberi to Akarda’s infatuation with a lesser drake from the next mountain range over.
She would never have sent them out to fight. Yes, they were grown. Yes, they could do battle. But their inherent magic was still developing, slower than hers had done. And she wouldn’t let them enter combat with foes such as these, dedicated to the kill. What did it matter if they did it without archmagery? They still slew her kind.
It mattered. In her soul, she knew it mattered. She couldn’t imagine being incapable of destroying such a rag-tag band of adventurers, not at any age.
This is why we need the Dracofont, she thought. Without them we weaken… with them we will be strong again!
“My lord – have you been able to recover his body?”
It took some time for the reply to come, and when it did he spoke in a quiet voice: “Enough of it, I hope. Enough at least to retrieve his shade. But even if it serves, it shall make a sorry shell for such a prideful spirit, and with him… with him my line is ended.”
“Your line shall live on in you, and your father, and Yset before him! And all your sons and daughters will be restored to the flesh, for the great Returning, as Ulu Kalar foresaw…”
“How long until the sorcerer is here? You are certain he departed with them?”
“My lord –“
“And he is powerful? Strong enough for our purposes?”
“My lord, Redgate is the most powerful sorcerer in Mund. There is no other I could choose for you. And yes. I watched him depart with more than one set of eyes.”
“Good. I shall enter the sea and be sure of it.”
“You are…” She didn’t quite know how to phrase it; she couldn’t insult him by asking if he was confident in his ability to do what he had to do. Not when he’d just discovered that he was responsible for the end of the Ord line, if anything went wrong with the plan. “You must prepare for this confrontation, my lord,” she said in the end. “The archmage is not only powerful – he is wily. Timesnatcher takes steps in anticipation of the sorcerer’s return, despite the fact he seems certain Redgate will perish. A… a diviner’s mind is far harder to follow than it is to control.”
She said this last in a half-apologetic tone, and even using it, she knew she did wrong.
His response was still quiet-voiced and not unfriendly, but with a laziness that bespoke a building anger: “Do you mean to test my patience, Tyr Kayn?”
“No, my lord,” she replied at once, an automatic response. “I mean only to ensure our victory.”
“Do not look to me, but to yourself, princess!” he hissed. “Nil Sorog and Ulu Hariskar will rise ere the new moon, or I’ll be much aggrieved. You must prepare to do your own part – all that it encompasses. You shall have to move with all haste when the twins appear, lest they penetrate your spell.”
“I will – my lord. I have the piece on the board in preparation for the crucial moment.”
She waited – waited –
“I am Kayn, Heir to the Line of Tyr. I will make the world’s destiny, or break it in the attempt. I… I am named.”
She took advantage of his satisfied silence, dropping the link, the fatiguing use of the Ceryad’s Wellspring, and peeled away from the mountain peak, heading back to Mund.
If only Malas had returned from the distant dimensions – none of this would’ve been necessary. Ylon still probably wouldn’t have permitted her to slay Phanar and his cohort – he wanted that for himself, and his reasons were eminently comprehensible – but this business with Redgate troubled her. Timesnatcher’s visions had been uncertain, what little of them she’d been able to properly compute. And now he had this stupid business with Zadhal on his mind again…
She wouldn’t be able to reach him in there. But it could present an interesting opportunity, especially where Feychilde was concerned; he could be moved further along the path if Zakimel behaved correctly… Dancefire was no issue; the half-orc was too wrapped-up in his delusions to be a threat. But Rosedawn – that whole fiasco could be brought to a climax! She could linger about the Winter Door, catch Timesnatcher and any other errant diviners upon their return, and in the meantime take every advantage of the situation to her own ends.
Scattering an illusion of the evening sky above so that it stretched across her flesh, Kayn soared over the grounds teeming with mages. As she went she busied herself with reaching out and plucking away those few thoughts that were of dread, of seeing something vast and incomprehensibly-threatening – and then she landed nimbly on the magically-reinforced roof of the world-famous Maginox Library.
After a quick check around she sent out her projection.
She was on her third generation, now, and each had been a marked improvement on their predecessors. Created much more quickly, and with an even greater investment of native power – this model could even be left exposed to the Knights of Kultemeren and other such holy seers without causing a fuss. That maniac, Everseer, had slain Quietsigh, and the memory of the moment had been so ingrained in the diviner’s mind that Kayn had been unable to permanently erase it, even with the Ceryad’s assistance. The same had happened with Softsmile, her replacement, when Timesnatcher took the reins of the Gathering from Everseer’s ‘dead’ hands.
It was only then that she’d come up with the notion of letting the young new arch-diviner find her latest incarnation, discover the seeming as a pre-archmage. Now, whenever Timesnatcher thought about the spell he was under, she quietly had him remind himself that he saw Lovebright before she even gained her gifts, and without fail his mind immediately fell back under her sway.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
She’d almost lost her grip whenever she’d had dealings with Neverwish and Rosedawn, the last problematic enchanters remaining amongst the champions, but their downfalls were well underway now. Feychilde was vexing; she still wasn’t certain about that cursed eldritch inside the sorcerer’s head. Hellbane had been just the same, actually talking to his internal company on a regular basis – but at least he’d been disposable. Feychilde, on the other hand, was going to be perfectly positioned to slay those she dared not; every vision she’d collected agreed that he would be instrumental in the Dracofont’s re-emergence onto the Material Plane. But carefully controlling both sides of conversations, impersonating both the fairy and the host, was a serious tax on her mind – not to mention her power. She’d been glad when Hellbane and his Lera had been disintegrated, but this Zel character? It was not so simple.
And removing Neverwish and Rosedawn from the game-board would only rearrange her priorities, turning Lightblind into her most-pressing issue. Hence her visit to Henthae and Zakimel today – she would get out in front of the crisis, head it off before it developed into a cataclysm.
Crossing the bridge, one of the charmed waywatchers got a glimpse of Kayn’s future. Cursorily looking the girl’s mind over, Kayn quickly realised this Tialya was one of the few to have already had a glimpse of the end times – her memories still showed the marks where Henthae herself had scrubbed it clean, scoured away the vision.
Her cover had already been blown, so it didn’t hurt to let her true self out for a moment or two. She sliced away the memories of the guards, of course, and gave the girl a stern talking-to for the intrusion. Then Lovebright entered the Maginox.
The climb up the stairs was so pointless she actually cheated, her seeming disappearing once she went around a corner where few were looking, and reappearing near Magicrux Altra. Henthae was on one of the floors just below the magicrux, and Lovebright took the appropriate exit-bridge, entering the corridors, nodding to the mages who greeted her as she went.
Within moments she was letting herself into the room.
“Tervos will just be a minute,” Henthae said. “Won’t you take a seat?”
“With pleasure,” Lovebright replied, removing her mask and hanging it from her belt before taking the indicated chair.
“Myrielle white?”
“You know me so well, Keliko.”
“I think you’ll like this vintage in particular, Joceine. It’s especially dry.”
She didn’t actually pick up the glass, of course. She left it where it was on the table and created an illusion to raise to her lips. At the same time, she placed a smear in Henthae’s recollections so that she’d later grant ownership of the full glass to Zakimel, when Kayn and Lovebright were gone and the untouched wine would inevitably be found. Zakimel would know what to do with it.
Thinking of every little detail was so tedious, but it was important to do it this way, by which the meeting happened for real. If she did everything in their minds, the next time Zakimel thought about this little get-together he’d have a fit.
“Acidic – just a hint of citrus,” she said, plucking the assessment from Henthae’s mind and adding her own twist to it. “Delicious.”
“Isn’t it just?” Henthae took a deep sip of her own glass. “So, what would you like to discuss today?”
“It would be easier to wait until Tervos arrives. Is there anything you would like to discuss?” Lovebright glanced down at Henthae’s right hand, at the second ring on her middle finger; Kayn studied it through her avatar’s eyes for a moment, re-attuning herself to the ring’s magic, then met the magister’s gaze once more. “Anything?”
The cheery, almost fawning look on Henthae’s face slowly morphed into one of horror.
Her mouth a distended oval, rapid gasping making her chest into a heaving piston, Mistress Keliko Henthae produced nothing more than a high-pitched bleat, her aghast eyes rolling back in her head.
“Oh, never mind.”
She turned it back on and Henthae relaxed again.
When Tervos Zakimel arrived and seated himself, he looked a little flustered. He folded his legs, occupying at most half of the chair.
“How are we today, Tervos?” Henthae asked.
“Never better,” he responded, characteristically moody, abrupt. He sucked his glass down in a single draught then blurred to the bottle, blurred back again, pouring himself another.
Kayn had given him quite a taste for the stuff – it dulled his senses, allowed her to be a little less precise with her safeguards when she went nosing around in his fascinating, future-revealing mind. He used to be a bottle-a-night-man; now he was a three-bottle-a-day-man. He used to go to bed with a headache; now his migraine was a persistent, living thing, feeling to him like a heavy snake coiled around his brain.
“Is it something we can help with?” Lovebright asked sweetly.
“Nothing three hours of frantic post-midnight banging my head against the desk won’t solve. Of course, that’ll be days of work in your schema.”
Henthae smiled sympathetically. “The time has arrived, I fear.”
“Oh?” Lovebright looked between them.
“The new Illost training rotas for the magister-bands,” Zakimel murmured. “Someone in Ongoing Development messed up. Believe me, I will find out who, even if they’re trying to hide. Over three thousand magisters, each in need of thirty-six hours of upskilling. I have to find a way to place them all in training centres that aren’t too far from their places of residence, or arrange transportation, and ensure any missed shifts are covered, and if I delegate even one bit of it –”
“Okay, okay.” Lovebright sighed. “Gods, Zakimel, you’re so dry I should be drinking you.”
That got a smile from both of them, which surprised her; she wasn’t even having to exert her influence. Kayn was just letting off steam.
She felt a little embarrassed, and that made her feel a little angry.
Perched atop the library, she sent a jolt of her power shooting out, into her seeming.
Lovebright straightened in her chair, and simultaneously the two arch-magisters slumped, entering the semi-trance state, ready to accept their instructions.
“It’s time we step up the pace. I need distractions, lots of them. We are entering a critical period of time. I’m going to increase the inkatra flowing into the city again. Ignore Neverwish and Rosedawn; I have them in hand. The problems are Lightblind and Dimdweller, and perhaps this Killstop child – I need a better read on her, Zakimel. Also, I’ll be bringing Leafcloak in with me next month, and I’ll need you to be ready – I want a few more of your… ‘friends’ to get new faces. You have… three weeks. I need them to get caught again but for the gods’ sakes don’t make them get caught down there.” She gestured in the vague direction of the waywatchers. “Somewhere more credible. Also, Henthae, I’ll need a window for unleashing Dreamlaughter. She’ll start forgetting how to ply her trade if I don’t keep her active. Let’s see, what else is there? Oh yes, Reyd – you’ve got to make her a fully-committed champion. You’re allowed to not like it, but you’ve got to do it. We need her in position to accelerate things with Feychilde; you’re to make the changes to her mind, you understand me? It can’t bear my signature. I’ve adjusted my spell on her pendant in preparation.
“And now, the most important bit. The Time of the Twins is upon us. We have two, maybe three days before it starts – I want to hear the second either of you hears anything. Anything. And ensure they’re… welcomed into the Magisterium’s arms. We’re going to have to move quickly once it begins – I don’t want anyone seeing through me, you understand? I’ll prepare Feychilde to kill them. If I can confirm my suspicions as to the reason for his role in all this, I will inform you.”
“Shall I arrange the death of his brother and sister?”
“No, no. He’ll do it himself when the time’s right. Are you hearing me?”
“I hear you, Lovebright,” they said almost in unison, Henthae just a split-second behind the diviner.
The champion made a sound like clapping her hands without actually clapping them, then sat forwards. “This has been so pleasant.” The seeming smiled and set down her glass, smearing it over in their minds by instinct. “Shall we catch up again in a week’s time?”
“That would be lovely,” Henthae gushed.
“Always a pleasure, ma’am,” Zakimel said, taking her hand and raising it towards his lips in a gesture of deep devotion – a transference from his latent feelings for Henthae.
Another annoyance she had to smear over.
She sent Lovebright on the laborious trek back through the corridors, down the stairs, across the bridge. It was easier to let the seeming keep up appearances than pull her out – that would mean inserting memories of seeing her leave into the minds of some students, and the waywatchers…
Zakimel, kissing Lovebright’s hand. Sometimes she wondered whether she’d gone too far – then she caught herself.
She was pulling the strings of the most important locusts in the hive, all by herself. Of course she’d gone too far – she’d left that shore behind ten thousand leagues back. She was changing history – she was at the top of her game, and she knew it. Even this meagre exploitation – manipulating them, moving the cretins around like her pawns, lining them up to be knocked down – it was almost as satisfying as eating them would be.
Will be, she promised herself.
When Lovebright reached the bridges she used the same one she’d crossed initially, and it was only then that Tyr Kayn realised the perceptive, frightened little girl had already fled her post. It was just Najraine and Hinnefer now.
Smiling, the red dragon took flight, heading towards Treetown.
Time to mess with Irimar’s mind some more.
Poor Alandrica.
* * *