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“As Quills, we have made other skills available to you,” the ge’ema said. “Just as you may now read our language, so will you know how to use these abilities. They are innate within you so long as you are Quills.”
Indeed, King Mudt could feel these new ideas tickling his brain. Runes he could inscribe to communicate with his champions across great distances or banish interlopers from his land. The sort of magical foolishness that King Mudt had never indulged in. These gods wanted him for a plaything and in exchange they delivered tattoos and tricks. Mudt scoffed, but the gods did not notice.
“We give you a year to gather your champions to you,” the ge’ema concluded. “After that, you will be returned here, and the Granting will commence. Until then, luxuriate in the new peace we have given you.”
Peace. The word stabbed through King Mudt like a javelin. What was he to do with peace?
There was a sour taste in Mudt’s mouth as the gods began to pull away from them. New abilities and new laws of nature, yet something pettier nagged at the great conqueror.
“Wait!” King Mudt bellowed. “You said there was another! One amongst my army that matched my renown. This must be a lie!”
“Indeed, no, it is the truth,” the ge’ema replied. Those who were present swore they heard an edge of laughter within the melodic voice of the gods. King Mudt, of course, did not notice. “Surely, you will want her as your champion,” the gods continued. “Thus, we have marked her for you.”
--Record of the First Granting and Dawning of the Second Age
Lyus Crodd, Scribe of the Dead Kingdom of Orvesis
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--DRAMATIS PERSONAE—
Carina Goldstone, Kingdom of Infinzel, her true nature to be revealed in time
Ahmed Roh, Archmage of the 15th Renown, the Magelab, an unpleasant traveling companion
Orryn es-Salvado, a garrison prospect of no renown, Kingdom of Infinzel, the guy with the rats
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20 New Summer, 61 AW.
Outside of Infinzel, North Continent
280 days until the next Granting.
After almost three weeks on the road, Infinzel at last appeared on the horizon. A bruise-colored triangle at this distance, a lonely mountain rising up from the plains without its surrounding range. Carina Goldstone smiled. She was almost home.
“Today will be the day we part ways,” she said to the archmage’s back. He had a habit of getting his horse out in front of hers, sometimes by miles. It had become something of a game for Carina to keep pace with the old prick, even on the days when he left camp before she woke up. “Will you miss my company, Master Roh?”
“No,” he replied.
“We’ll see each other again soon enough, though, won’t we?”
Ahmed Roh ignored her, turning a page in his book. Carina couldn’t understand how he read in the saddle like that; the motion would’ve made her sick. She studied the archmage’s scrawny back. Roh was in his fifties but could’ve passed for twice that. Like most of the masters of the Magelab, the magic had eaten away at him. He was gaunt and sunken, with a gnarled beard of bitter gray and an unkempt halo of brittle hair around a pockmarked bald spot. Roh had a taste for fine clothes in shades of red wine that weren’t at all suited to travel, yet he’d kept his silks clean over these weeks through some petty spellcraft. Carina wondered how many days of his life he’d traded for this obsessive cleanliness.
Before they set out, Carina had seen Roh only a few times around the Magelab, usually as one face among many glaring at her from an upraised dais. She thought he had mean eyes.
Although they had left the Magelab at the same time, they weren’t traveling together. Roh had made that abundantly clear as night after night he insisted on setting his camp on the opposite side of the road. He never turned away a plate of food cooked over Carina’s fire, though. It was as if he expected that kind of tribute from her.
Carina was twenty-five years old, though small and birdlike in a way that many still mistook her for a girl. At least Roh’s nearby presence had staved off any other uncomfortable encounters on the road. Otherwise, Carina found him to be a miserable companion. Nonetheless, she was curious. It was strange that one of the champions of the Magelab had set out alone without the usual retinue of apprentices and advisors. She wanted to know where he was going and what he planned to do there, not because that information had any particular bearing on Carina’s own plans, but because the knowledge was withheld from her. She couldn’t stand that. If Carina hated anything in this world, it was other people’s secrets.
They came to a crossroads. The route heading directly west was wide and well-trod, whereas the route leading southwest was rough and a bit overgrown. Without looking up from his book, Roh turned his horse southwest. Carina followed and she watched as the mage’s shoulders tightened. He snapped his book closed and scowled over his shoulder.
“Turn back,” he said. “You missed the Continental Highway.”
“No, I didn’t,” she replied. “The Continental would have me arrive through Soldier’s Rest. Could end up unseemly for a woman traveling alone. The whoremongers would fall upon me like birds on breadcrumbs.”
Roh eyed her. “If you say so.”
“I do say so, Master Roh. Just a few more miles with me, sir. This path connects to the River Road. That’s the one for me. A cool breeze off the water and merchants for company.”
Of course, he was right that the Continental Highway would be most direct and Carina actually had no fear at all of Soldier’s Rest. She’d basically grown up there, which meant there would be too many familiar faces. She’s wasn’t ready to see anyone yet. They would have questions and her answers weren’t ready.
There would be other interrogations to get through before she could even think of visiting Soldier’s Rest and the ones there who she’d left behind.
She considered Roh’s own path. Over the last couple weeks, there were times that she worried he was heading to Infinzel too. Wouldn’t that have been ironic? He’d be a nuisance for her there like she had been for him on the road. But no, Ahmed Roh was headed south via the Troldep. She didn’t take him for a gambler or a debtor, which ruled out Noyega. If he was bound for further south, for swampy Ruchet or dead Orvesis, he likely would’ve brought some assistance. Even a champion of his renown wouldn’t brave those places alone. What else would interest an archmage to the south…?
“You’re going to Ambergran,” Carina said.
Roh said nothing, but Carina thought she heard his jaw click from clenched teeth.
“Is it true what they’re saying, then?” Carina asked, not expecting a response. “Annihilation? That’s an ugly thing. But you had your chance to stop it, didn’t you? Why go now? A case of too little and too late, isn’t it?”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
As Carina unloaded her questions, Roh brought his horse to a stop and waited for her to pull level. He fixed her with a stony glare that probably sent his apprentices scurrying under their beds, but the Magelab was far behind them and Carina only smiled.
“I have always found you to be the vilest of interlopers, Ms. Goldstone,” the old mage pronounced. “As you say, we will be together again soon, but you should hope we don’t cross paths.”
Carina batted her eyes. “Why’s that, Ahmed?”
Before he could respond, Carina put her heels into her horse and took off down the path. It was the first time in weeks that she’d ridden ahead of Roh. Carina laughed as she went. She’d learned what she wanted and now she could be rid of the mage and his baleful presence.
Besides, her presence was urgently needed in Infinzel.
“My regrets to the ageless king!” Roh screamed at her back.
Carina slowed her horse once she reached the Troldep and hooked back north along the River Road. She tilted her head back and enjoyed the cool mist that blew off the water, ignoring the butterflies that had begun to flutter so chaotically in her stomach. The pyramidal city drew closer.
On the day of her return, Carina had her dark hair wrapped in scarves, her shirt buttoned to the collar despite the summer’s warmth. Her skin was clean. She’d made a point of washing off the dirt that morning.
Barges laden with stone harvested from Infinzel’s mineral gardens traveled south on the river. Watching them, Carina ran calculations in her mind like another traveler might admire clouds. A way to pass the time. Based on how fast the boats moved and how low they rode in the water, she could make a guess at what kind of stone each vessel carried, how much each shipment was worth, and whether the boats could've handled more. She made a game of keeping score of which captains would have the most lucrative voyage.
She noticed one barge that was already listing and calculated that what was surely a shipment of sandstone hadn't been properly distributed throughout the hold. Carina waved to catch the attention of a sailor smoking a pipe on the deck, but before she could shout a warning the man made a ‘V’ with his fingers and flicked his tongue through it. She dropped her hand.
“Junnaro Company,” she said to herself. A couple of merchants and their cart had been riding level with Carina for the last mile. She caught their attention and pointed out the boat. "That ship is going to capsize."
The merchant holding the reins raised an eyebrow at her. “Piss off, girly,” he said. “I'm not getting taken in by another fortune teller.”
“Fortune, sir, is no substitute for good planning,” Carina said.
“No, really, piss off.”
Carina dug her heels into her horse and surged ahead of the rude merchant. People were always telling Carina to piss off, in one way or another. She’d stopped taking it too personally. It was the burden of always being right.
The pyramidal city rose up before her, a monument to the ingenuity of humankind. She'd been born within those walls and then done her growing up in their shadows. Carina's face hurt, and she realized it was from smiling. She hadn't been back to Infinzel in almost eight years, and she'd dreamed about this day for all that time. To Carina, it felt like gears were clicking into place in her heart. At last, she was back where she belonged. And she returned exactly the way she'd planned.
The road widened as she neared the city and then rode through the river gate. She found a public hitching post for her horse before the streets turned to cobbles, and proceeded on foot into the traffic of the Underbridge.
Here, the Troldep River passed directly under and through Infinzel. On her left, docking berths spanned the riverside, while to her right were merchant stalls, outbuildings, and warehouses. The Underbridge was one of the busiest ports in the world, all that commerce taking place beneath the cavernous ceiling of the pyramidal city. There were windows carved into the stone above her, though they were too high for Carina to see into. Compartments overlooking the Underbridge were one of the most sought after quarters within Infinzel. The dues would be astronomical.
And there, above Carina, was the vast mural of King Cizco Salvado, the ageless ruler of Infinzel. Although, Carina knew, he was less ageless now than he had been a few weeks ago. The mural wasn’t made from paints but instead composed of the mosses and molds that grew on the Underbridge. Some magic of King Cizco’s animated and colored them, creating the appearance of a gently smiling Salavado welcoming boats into the pyramidal city’s underbelly.
“Maintenance can’t be worth the cost in arcane energy,” Carina said quietly. “Although, as demonstrations of power go, perhaps it’s worth it.”
Turning from the portrait, Carina dodged through carts and wagons bound for the docks and hustled between merchant stalls. She knew exactly which entrance into the pyramidal city she was looking for. While she hadn't been home to Infinzel in years, she carried maps and blueprints of the place in her mind. She’d spent hours memorizing the twists and turns of the enormous structure. She knew every hallway and antechamber, from the king's quarters at the top to the mining sectors around the base.
The door she wanted was wrought iron, recessed into the stone. A young man stood guard there. He wore the uniform of the Garrison - a smart jacket and slacks in the same slate gray as Infinzel's stone, a sash of purple around his waist, and a short sword. Carina could tell by his features that he was a Salvado, although she couldn't exactly say which branch of the vast family tree. It gave her pause for only a moment that the man held a rat cupped in his hands and appeared to be whispering to the little creature.
He glanced up as she approached and the rat crawled up his sleeve.
“Can't cut through this way,” he told her, and jerked his chin further on. “Entrance to the interior markets are back that way.”
“I'm here for the Garrison,” she told him. “And to see the king.”
He snorted. “Sure. Let me check the appointment book. See if he has any openings.”
“Your father—”
“Grandfather,” he corrected. The young man drew himself up in a way that might have been impressive if not for the rat squirming beneath his uniform. “You speak to Orryn es-Salvado, girl. Be mindful of that.”
“Ah, I mistook you for second generation,” Carina said. “You have the jawline.”
“Sweet of you to say.”
“Your grandfather sent me an invitation,” Carina said.
She reached into her satchel and produced a hand mirror. She’d been studying her new Ink in its reflection when the Quill of Infinzel had contacted her. His elegant, kingly penmanship stretched across the glass. It was a trick possessed by all the Quills, Carina knew, should they need to communicate with one of their champions. King Cizco wrote the message in Ink and spoke an incantation, and his message appeared wherever she happened to be looking. Carina was grateful the king had only ruined a mirror she’d purchased in a secondhand shop and not one of her books or maps.
Dear whoever you are, the message read. Present yourself to the Garrison immediately. I’m eager to meet my gift from the gods. Yours, C.
Orryn’s mouth hung open. Carina could tell he didn’t quite believe her, so she pushed aside her scarves and unbuttoned the top of her shirt, revealing first the pyramid-shaped insignia of Infinzel, and then the fresh whorls of her Ink.
Carina Goldstone
Infinzel
2nd Renown
Enthralled Defender
Alert
Logician
Awareness+
Future Sight
Orryn couldn’t read the symbols, but they looked like the real thing.
“You…?” He shook his head. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You kept everyone waiting.”
“I was out of town.”
Orryn rubbed the back of his neck. “They were going to put a bounty out on you if you didn’t show soon. Wonder if that went through, actually…”
Carina reached out to squeeze his arm conspiratorially, mindful not to crush any rodents that might have been hiding in his jacket. “I’ll tell them you found me, if we wrap up this conversation and you show me inside.”
Orryn snorted, then led her into the warm, copper-smelling halls of the Garrison. He grabbed the first other guard they encountered and told him to alert the king and the champions. The guard’s eyed widened in disbelief as he sized up Carina. She pretended not to notice.
“Come on,” Orryn said. “They’ll want to meet you in the Battle Library.”
“Lead the way,” she replied.
Just as Orryn wasn’t capable of reading the Ink, he was also too unfamiliar with the substance to notice the subtle crimson flecks that floated in Carina’s markings.
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