The Infinity Mantle

By Elaina J Davidson

There is a darkness coming ...

Rayne of the Mantle, to confirm Infinity’s presence on Valaris, knowing the witch will seek her revenge for the death of her son, travels to Farinwood to find Aven. The old magician will know. There he discovers changeling children, a secret Society of Sorcerers, the mysterious waif Averroes, as well as the Maghdim Medaillon, a dangerous coin that creates a thread of light between two realms.

In another universe, the Darak Or Margus watches for the perfect opportunity to annihilate the world Ardosia and its people. He desires to avenge an ancient terror and has been patient too long. Separating the two realms is a vast Chaos barrier, a roiling darkness both Infinity and Margus will deploy as a weapon of ultimate manipulation.

Two worlds will soon burn.

Taranis of the Dome Guardians, summoned to witness what will happen to Valaris should Ardosia fall, is forced to endure the terrible blockade. In the aftermath, the Guardians gather to defend against the influx of this new evil, as is their sworn duty to the universe.

Rayne, meanwhile, dreams of a little girl from another land desperate for help, while on Ardosia a toddler rouses from a nightmare, screaming, “It will all burn, daddy!”

Another awakens; a legendary figure from the forgotten past, creator of the Maghdim Medaillon, the true ruler of both Valaris and Ardosia. His time is now.

There is a darkness coming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaina J Davidson
• Release date: Sep 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301535521

Elaina J Davidson

Elaina is a galactic and universal traveller and dreamer. When writing she puts into words her travels and dreams, because she believes there is inspiration in even the most outrageous tale.Born in South Africa, she grew up in the magical city and surrounds of Cape Town. After studying Purchasing Management and working in the formal sector as a buyer, she chose to raise and home-school her children. She started writing novels around 2002, moving from children’s stories, poetry and short stories to concentrate on larger works. She lived with her family for some time in Ireland and subsequently in New Zealand. After returning to South Africa, loving the vibrancy of Africa, she upended her life again and moved back to Ireland, her soul-home.Come and get lost with her!

Book preview

Prologue

IN A TIME now passed beyond memory, a man whispered over a golden disc as he set it into a vice.

Vannis of the Valleur lifted an engraving tool to mark the first glyph. He murmured the words of an ancient enchantment, a repeated rhythm, until it was perfect, and whispered more as he polished. It took time, many months, and he rushed nothing. He spoke of it to no one. Only when the time was right would he reveal his handiwork.

This man possessed the tools and skills to achieve his goal, as well as the voice that was impetus and creation. To infuse inanimate gold, to gift atoms sensitivity, to compel unassailable eternity, required tone, repetition and emotion.

Imperative was emotion, for it determined the ultimate nature of the infused device. If fashioned in anger, the consequence was an instrument capable of confusion; indifference led to instability, hate to darkness, mockery to deception, egotism to arrogance, and love to illumination and enlightenment.

Vannis intended only love.

The Supreme Wisdom - the Maghdim Medaillon - of the Valleur was made tangible and it was beautiful. On the day he laid it in a protective casket, he thought, I am done now. The future is secure.

He was wrong.

Part I

DARKNESS

Chapter 1

"This is creepy, boy; it’s about to tumble into the whirly-swirl."

~ Tattle’s Blunt Adventures

Valaris

RAYNE RESTED ON the final descent from the high pass, sitting on a boulder sipping tepid water. Exhausted after four days hard travel and battered from losing traction on a scree slope earlier, he wished for the oblivion of sleep.

Farinwood, journey’s end, was now close, nestled in a valley where the soil was fertile and moist all year. Gazing down upon the old stone town facing the Corridor Mountains behind him, he hoped for a decent bed and time to sleep in it.

Dense vapour shrouded the lower hills and enveloped the valleys beyond in murky shadows, and was the reason he had embarked on his rough journey. Rumours of darak sorcery and sightings of the dara-witch Infinity had the Mantle in turmoil; before him lay the proof. At this point in summer’s mastery, mist was a mere wish and yet it now veiled Farinwood.

Forcing his aching body to move, Rayne followed a track only goats knew of to enter the town and, as he stepped off the splintered bridge spanning the canal, the weight of rampant sorcery pressed down upon him, settling as a weight upon his shoulders. The channel was ridden with algae, he noticed; not a comforting sight, for this was Farinwood’s drinking water.

The town itself was gloomy with vapour trailing tendrils like spooky fingers from a netherworld. The quaint, old buildings were shuttered, blind; the cobbled streets slick with misshapen moss in cracks.

Shivering, he hastened onwards. Nightfall approached and he had to find Aven before darkness claimed these streets.

The first evidence of Infinity’s malevolence upon people also was revealed in a cluster of surly men bearing knives and cudgels, even a rusty saw. Rayne halted when he saw them, realising Infinity no longer limited her coercion to nature.

The men looked around him, unseeing after initial scrutiny. Something else was on their minds and they were petrified. When one murmured to another about night closing in and now was not the time to become distracted, Rayne understood the coming darkness held the real terror Infinity had unleashed here.

Aven could wait until morning. Sleep was probably a dream at this point, but he needed to find a place to spend the interim hours. When he enquired after the nearest inn, a man pointed him onward willingly, but eyes darted. Another stared intently at him as if to say something, until his companion dug an elbow into his ribs.

He left the men behind, wondering what that one needed to share. Aven would know what happened in Farinwood.

In a broader street he discovered another gathering, more armed men huddled together. What were they guarding against?

There were no women and no children in sight anywhere. It was a bad sign; it meant women and children were confined for protection’s sake. Or something far more sinister could be in play. Inhaling a breath, Rayne hoped the women and children were merely behind locked doors to keep them safe.

He caught snatches of mutterings as he passed.

… not normal this fog …

… Farinwood’s a portal to the netherworld …

… darkness in their hearts …

… Feon saw the dara-witch …

… Infinity on Hogshill …

… our poor children …

… An ancient curse I tell …

… same war of three thousand years ago …

The words were repetitions of fact and rumour spoken almost as mantra. He sensed their need for reassurance and could not offer even a word in comfort.

When Rayne did notice a knot of children around a further corner, he was relieved to think maybe he had misjudged the situation in Farinwood.

If children were on the streets, the manipulation was still reparable. While the presence of fear was real, it had not yet killed. The young would not be allowed out if death stalked the streets. The Mantle could reverse the darak mist and dampen the manifestation of terror, thereby restoring Farinwood to the townspeople. It required concerted effort, but was achievable. Aven would know where to commence the process.

Rayne paused to study the gathering of children, searching for the signs of dread evident in their elders, and was similarly scrutinised.

Across the intersection they watched each other.

Rayne began then to understand the men and their homemade weapons, their words and depression, their terrible wariness and the withdrawal from outsiders. He understood what Infinity had achieved in Farinwood.

Here it was about the children. Elsewhere on Valaris there were unexplained deaths and events, but here it was definitely about the children.

One lad curled his hands into claws and bared his teeth. He rose onto his toes as if to launch an attack. Rayne smelled the presence of aggression, the utter lack of conscience.

Appalling knowledge in deadened eyes told him the boy was not afraid to attack and kill like a rabid dog; as with infected creatures, it was thus wise to retreat.

The Mantle could not reverse this. He could do little to help them. He could do nothing. The men with their makeshift weapons guarded the streets against their own children, by Taranis.

Rayne hastily negotiated another corner, the back of his neck prickling, and ahead saw a sign that proclaimed the Foaming Ale Inn.

He felt the need to surrender the streets; never had lodgings appeared at a more opportune time.

A VESTIBULE DISPLAYED a pewter hat and coat stand and, beside it, a mirror in a chipped gilt frame. The floor was rough slate, the walls of stone. As a welcome chamber, it was not particularly inviting. The stand was empty; he was either early, the only patron, or fear kept others away. The tension on the streets spoke of the latter.

He glanced in the mirror to see clammy skin. Fair hair hung in long, damp strings, grey eyes were bloodshot, and his face was colourless, adorned with scratches from the scree slide earlier.

Rayne leaned against the contraption, closing his eyes. His heartbeat was uneven - the presence of fear. He could only imagine how much worse it was for the fathers out there and for the mothers trapped inside their homes with their thoughts.

He drew breath and headed for the common room.

The inn door slammed inward. A big man with flaming red hair and beard barged in, glanced over his shoulder, and shoved the door shut as he looked Rayne over. Shoulders the size of an ox surged closer.

Rayne’s eyes narrowed. This was not a local.

Rayne of the Mantle? the man boomed. "Name’s McSee. My lord, you have nothing to fear from me. You are Rayne of the Mantle?" He thrust his hand out.

Too flabbergasted to do much else, Rayne took the proffered hand. Long after he would wonder if he said no to the query would McSee have turned away not to be seen again, or were their fates already decided before that first handshake?

I have been on your tail a few days. I just missed you in Galilan. You move fast - thirsty work. Let’s see if this dump lives up to its name! McSee launched into the common room. Two ales, barkeep!

He rolled like a runaway boulder across the empty room to a table at the hearth where a fire blazed warmth and comfort.

Bemused, Rayne followed and chose a chair, nodding greeting, while McSee watched the small, rotund man busy behind the counter.

The little man winked. He had a friendly face and as he poured he asked, Need rooms? No problem. We’re empty presently, the unseasonable climate putting the fear of who-knows-what into superstitious folk. Granted, I’ve never known weather like this, not in summer.

He came over with two foaming mugs.

There were changeling children on the streets, and the man called it superstition. Rayne frowned into his mug as he lifted it to swirl the dust of travel away.

McSee handed over the required coin. Yes, rooms and hot water. I could sorely use a scrubbing.

The little man grimaced. It’s all I can do to keep this fire going, my staff left me in the lurch - I told them it’s fairy tales and legends, but no one listens. We’re in for a poorly spell, you know, nature telling us who’s in charge. Mist from a netherworld, ha! Superstitious nonsense. Name’s Julian, by the way.

He gazed pointedly at McSee, and glanced at Rayne, dark eyes inquisitive, and one could not blame him; he was in the business of people, and visitors were scarce.

McSee made the introductions. McSee, he said, thrusting his hand out again. Rayne winced, having recently shaken it. From Gasmoor. And this here, McSee continued, is Rayne of … Rayne faintly shook his head. … ah, Rayne of Galilan.

Julian enfolded Rayne’s hand in a firm grip. He’s rather quiet, your friend Rayne.

Tired, Julian, more tired than I have been in a long while, Rayne answered.

Apologies, sirs! Hot water … yes, and something to eat … excuse me … Managing to curb his curiosity, Julian left.

Did you see them? The young ones? McSee murmured, pointing a finger to the outside world. Is he blind? He gestured next after the round man. Scared the crap out of me, I tell you.

He is afraid. Denial is a form of defence. Rayne settled back and took a pull of the ale. The brew definitely lived up to the name above the door. He glanced at the big man. McSee. From Gasmoor. Gasmoor was the second largest centre on Valaris, a university city two days ride from Galilan, capital city. That is a start. McSee, you seem to know a little more about me than I know of you.

McSee did not drop his gaze. I mean you no harm, my lord.

That remains to be seen. At this point answer my question.

McSee set his mug down and settled his big arms on the polished wood, twisting his fingers together. I was chosen to find you, for we have noticed the same distressing signs the Mantle has …

’We’?

A society, my lord …

Do not call me that, for Aaru’s sake; I don’t want unnecessary attention. Rayne will do fine.

Of course, I’m sorry, my … Rayne. McSee scratched at his head.

A society, Rayne prompted.

Brown eyes were sombre, expecting trouble. A society of folk who think there is great danger a-foot. We also believe what we see is a fraction of what is coming. Allow me to offer my help. If nothing else, I find my size in odd situations is an advantage.

There was a trace of diffidence in McSee’s voice, but as his claim could not be named as lie, he did not back down from it.

You are not answering my question, friend. How is it you know of me? Perhaps twenty outsiders know of the existence of the Mantle.

The Society knows as well, McSee murmured, lowering his voice on hearing Julian’s scuffles in an adjoining chamber. The way he accented Society revealed it as more than a generic term. We know the Mantle is an organization studying signs and portents. You are the protectors, right?

In a manner of speaking, Rayne thought, but did not answer. "And what exactly does this Society of yours do?"

For the first time the big man was uncomfortable. They said this will be the hardest part, and now I see why. He lapsed into silence.

Rayne took a deep breath and released it on a long sigh. Something like the Mantle?

McSee nodded. Our goals are similar, but we are more than mere academics …

And so is the Mantle. I get that, Rayne said.

Something in Rayne’s tone alerted the big man, for he spoke swiftly then. I’m instructed to tell the truth, so here it is; the Society is a select group of … of sorcerers … no, wait, McSee interjected as Rayne straightened in his chair, It’s not what you think! We don’t do darak magic, I swear; we don’t practice magic at all, only theory.

Rayne lifted a disbelieving eyebrow, and thought that meant they were only academics.

It’s true, McSee continued. We train generation to generation in an attempt to keep the old knowledge alive. Long ago, someone understood we would need the theoretical arts. Folk forgot about the Society as time passed, especially after the Drasso catastrophe, but we were there then and saw what real danger is. We weren’t formal like now, maybe not so hidden, and probably not quite as unpractised as today, but that was then and I don’t know much about the past and only about the future we seek to protect. The way matters add up, we need countering that can reach beyond traditional weapons. We’re not a danger to the Mantle or Valaris, quite the contrary, and if you need to keep me nearby to prove that, then so be it; I’ll earn your trust soon enough.

McSee leaned in. You are of the Mantle, my lord … and he used Rayne’s title deliberately, … so you must know Valaris can’t hope to survive the coming darkness without trained sorcerers. Who will help us if we do not help ourselves? I can sniff danger and fight it too. I would be honoured to stand at your side.

Rayne was a power in an underworld of influential men and McSee clearly knew that. Did the man aim to aid him with the different power of the Society? What, exactly, could McSee do? Moreover, how much did he know of the Mantle?

In the ensuing silence, they heard Julian throwing water. The innkeeper would return soon.

When Rayne finally spoke his voice remained low. The men with weapons outside needed just a spark, a whiff of a whisper of a sorcerer inside, and all Julian had to do was shout.

You are telling me there is a group the Mantle doesn’t know of and you say this group has been in existence a long time. There are trained sorcerers running amok on this world. By Taranis, man, how do you expect me to react?

McSee put up a hand. Three thousand years ago Valaris was the battlefield for Infinity and Drasso and their darak fallen, and the Deities descended to aid us in that war. Today we don’t know how much is fact or fairy-tale, but we do know there was a war and our world was almost destroyed. A handful survived, the north was forever annihilated, and it took Valaris a thousand years to recover. We still have the poison of the north, which the Great Dividing Forest separates us from. And now someone like Drasso could be happening again.

Rayne gave a wry smile. The big man was on target. Infinity had returned to exact revenge for the death of her son Drasso. He blinked; no wonder she manipulated the children. It was a mother’s vengeance.

Will the Deities come to our aid? Dare we wait for that to happen? Do we allow it to get so bad it takes another thousand years to recover? McSee leaned forward. Better if we join forces … He broke off as Julian re-entered the common room.

Good news, gentlemen. Two tubs in the steam room out back. Fresh towels inside the door. Julian’s bright eyes darted from one to the other, sensing enmity.

Rayne pushed his chair back. We will resume this later, McSee. Lead on, Julian.

McSee followed.

His hands shook.

A SCREECH TORE through the darkness. Rayne surged up in his bed as the reverberations shivered over his skin. The echoes of his dream - a fair girl crying out her name, "Mitrill, my name is Mitrill" - caused momentary confusion, and then he knew where and when he was.

It was night in Farinwood. This was a bed in an inn. The present. He had actually fallen asleep.

Here it was about a child on the hunt.

Then, like crystal shattering in the ensuing silence, a woman sobbed as if her heart had been ripped from her body.

Aaru, how could the men on the streets be expected to stop this? One was father to that screeching child. One was husband to the woman trapped in hopeless grief.

Anger was then heat and resolve. Rayne left his bed, snatched his cloak up for warmth and doused the smoking lamp on the table under the window.

A moment later he snapped his fingers for the tiny flame that danced upon his palm.

This was a sorcerer’s trick and, on a world that abhorred magic, it meant also a noose slung over a branch if someone saw him with it. He needed to be ever careful; vigilantism thrived on Valaris and continually prowled for magic-users, a mind-set that would lead eventually to confrontation.

He cupped his free hand around the flame.

Enfolding magic, even this insignificant nuance, gifted him the ability to witness events beyond his immediate surroundings.

He employed the flame to see what the darkness hid.

Leaves skittered across cobbles, driven by gusts of contrary wind. A storm was on the way. The leaves lifted and swirled and smacked into the calves of two boys, slim shadows peering through a tall iron gate at a man holding aloft a blacksmith’s hammer. There was a sense of hunger emanating from the boys and terrible despair had etched into the man’s face.

Would the gate keep them apart?

Rayne’s breathing shallowed when those shadows swiftly clambered over and padded closer.

The man swung the hammer, but it was evident he was loath to use it even for defence. How did a man sleep again after hurting children? Then they were upon him and Rayne’s breathing stopped. The mallet thudded down; leaves scurried and rustled as if prodded and young fingers and mouths tore into cloth and flesh.

A horrifying gurgle echoed. Insane giggles. Rayne lost his hold on the flame as shock numbed his ability to function.

Sweat trickled in icy rivulets over his face.

Hands on knees he fought for equilibrium and feverishly hoped Aven would know how to counter this nightmare.

He prayed the old man was still alive in this netherworld town.

Chapter 2

"Can you hear the silence, friend?

Do you see the echoes of silver?"

~ Unknown

Farinwood

AVEN WAS A self-proclaimed sorcerer. Somehow he circumvented every attempt at bringing him to justice. There were whispers sorcery aided him, as it now kept all from his door in his retirement. He kept to himself in Farinwood. In a society that should drag him to the gallows, he was respected and tolerated.

Aven was instrumental in recruiting Rayne to the Mantle as a boy. The secrecy and adventure appealed to that boy’s nature, and later the scope of knowledge appealed to a maturing mind. Aven was his guide in the early years and a source of knowledge as he grew older.

It was time to tap that fountain once more.

Rayne and McSee left the inn at first light, having formed an unlikely alliance. Julian said not a word beyond supplying the necessary directions to Aven’s home. Superstition or not, he no doubt considered it a safer gamble to say nothing, ask nothing.

He shouted for no one.

THE COBBLED STREETS were wet and strewn with storm debris. The town was graveyard quiet and the light that pierced the cloud cover was a foul and dirty grey. They pressed on around another corner, then another. All houses were shuttered tight.

Even big McSee was wary, and Rayne felt better for having him along. They passed a tall iron gate, but there was nothing now to reveal it as the site of nocturnal murder.

Ahead was the hanging blue star over a green doorway that marked it as Aven’s home. They headed to it in relief, uncomfortable with the peculiarity of the streets. Death’s spectre possessed real presence this day.

Rayne rang the small silver bell placed in a recess.

There was no response.

Taranis, thought Rayne, what if he went looking for me in Galilan after what happened here?

He rang the bell again, the sound loud in the silence. Both men flinched.

The unmistakable screech of a bolt sliding back sounded. The door opened a crack. McSee hissed warning and at first Rayne thought the danger was inside, before noticing shapes flitting towards them.

A timid voice said, Yes?

Clearing his throat, Rayne asked, Is this the home of Aven?

The door cracked wider. Two dark eyes peered from under a furry cap. It was a young woman. Who are you?

McSee burst out, Can we establish that inside, please? Those creatures are too near for comfort.

"They are children and they dare not come closer, the young woman said. Aven isn’t receiving visitors."

After studying the now stationary figures in the opposite doorway, Rayne said, Please tell him Rayne is here.

Rayne? Of the Mantle? Aven has been expecting you, thought it wiser to stay until you came or he would pass you on a journey that would then have no purpose.

The door opened wide. The two men glanced at each other as they entered the gloomy interior.

She led them down a dark passage towards a square of light and into a large chamber awash in silvery glows. Tiny silver candles were lit on all surfaces. The chamber was untidy in the haphazard placement of books and various odd objects, but this vanished into the shadows of flickering light. No wonder the dark children did not venture close; they were not merely afraid of the sorcerer inside.

Aven had carefully warded his home.

An old man rose from a frayed armchair, setting a well-thumbed book on the low table before him. He was tall, like Rayne, and almost bald. His few remaining hairs were snow white and he appeared ghostly and insubstantial in the silvery light, as they did too, particularly the young woman who seemed to float in her blue gown.

A smile came. Rayne, my boy, I have been expecting you.

His voice was educated and, contrary to expectation, without rancour. He and Rayne had their issues, usually parting for a lengthy period after a reverberating argument. They had not seen each other in two years after just such an event in the Mantle’s archives.

And I see you have teamed up with our resourceful friend McSee. Good. You are going to need each other. Well met, McSee.

He came forward to clasp McSee’s big hand. Aven possessed a death grip when he felt like using it and if anything it was McSee who winced. The two men smiled at each other, and the old man moved to Rayne. He gripped at the shoulders uncertainly, the sort of gesture one makes to embrace someone missed, but unsure of reception.

Rayne gazed into Aven’s wise, dark eyes, deeply lined and tired, and put both arms around the old man to hold him close. This man was more of a father to him than his own was, more so when his father died. He grinned as he let go. I still think you’re an opinionated, stubborn, old …

Yes, yes, I know the rest, Aven interrupted in delight. Someone ought to teach you manners.

Rayne laughed, before saying, I was afraid for you.

When the rumours started, followed by reports of Infinity sightings near Farinwood, he wanted to come for the old man. When a garbled report of darak mist caused uproar in their ranks, he immediately set out from Galilan.

Aven’s eyes glittered as he studied Rayne. The children were assailed. It is true horror, but I am fine. A moment more the two men studied each other. Aven then spoke to McSee. So, the Society is alert. We can only pray you are able to put theory into practice. You are a good choice, lad; nobody suspects a big man as capable of magic. You will never blend in, but you will certainly get away with much. He grinned anew. I bet my boy here gave you a hard time, him being so stubborn.

McSee shrugged eloquently.

Gesturing to chairs in the corner, Aven warned them not to tread on his candles.

Are you warding more than the obvious? Rayne asked.

McSee glanced over and Rayne noted his surprise. McSee did not understand how he knew of a warding; perhaps it would occur to him he and Aven had a long history.

All in good time, always in such a hurry, Aven muttered, shaking his head. Upon seeing the young woman standing silent in the doorway to the passage listening, he smacked his forehead. "Where are my manners? Come closer, Averroes. Lads, this is my ward … don’t look so amazed, Rayne. When last have we spoken without fighting? My dear, meet Rayne and McSee."

Averroes nodded at each man, biting her lip.

Will you fetch wine? Aven prompted.

She vanished into the passage, lifting her gown high to avoid extinguishing the nearby candles. Her feet were bare.

Aven lowered into his armchair with Rayne and McSee taking seats facing him. I knew you would come. I waited here; not seeking you out first, for Averroes hates Galilan. She dislikes stepping out of the front door, to be honest, but particularly hates Galilan. He held one hand aloft. Bear with me, please. I needed you to meet her, for she is part of the whole and will be as involved as we must be soon.

Rayne said, We need to discuss Infinity, what to do …

I know and we will get to that, but listen first. Because I overlooked introducing her does not mean this is unimportant. Averroes has a pertinent past. The old man possessed a sticky stare.

Fine.

Then let me begin. I found Averroes on the streets of Galilan seven years ago …

Aven broke off when Rayne frowned at the empty doorway.

She is aware of this; she won’t take offence. He rubbed his pate. Galilan is a beautiful city, but unkind to those of no means. She was an orphan and could barely speak. I wondered how she could trust an older man, when probably she was … Aven paused to swallow, not willing to utter that thought.

Neither Rayne nor McSee said a word.

She came home with me. I had her see our young Herbmaster. Averroes did not like being examined, but Kylan is a gentle soul who knows how to deal with the skittish, bless him. I named her Averroes, and when she lost her fear, I taught her to read and write. She is highly intelligent, but needed someone to believe … anyhow, that is how she came into my life and she has brightened it immeasurably. I chose to retire from the Mantle soon after - I know you wondered - and applied to the courts to make her my legal ward, but she’s like a daughter … much like you are a son to me.

Not a very good one if you could not tell me about her, Rayne said.

In truth, the omission lies not with you or me. Averroes insisted no one know of her and I humoured her, hoping with time and confidence the situation would change. But we digress. About four years ago I was involved in a simple enchantment to prevent mildew growing on the northern wall, when she came upon me.

Aven locked onto Rayne’s gaze.

She brought forth a golden coin, and how she kept it secret I don’t know, but as to why; she was afraid I would throw her out. She held the coin in one hand, closed her eyes and, to my everlasting astonishment, accompanied me word for word as I recited the enchantment! Aven’s right hand lifted in a flourish.

McSee listened avidly. Rayne’s eyes narrowed.

Aven continued, warming to his tale. I asked to see it, but she was so nervous I let the matter rest there. She means more to me than any device. Months passed and one day I deliberately forgot part of an enchantment in her presence and pretended anxiety, and she whipped it out, closed her eyes and did it for me. Clearly, I mean more to her than any device also. I am blessed.

Aven broke off as Averroes entered bearing a tray laden with three glasses, a bottle of opened white wine and a cup of tea. Obviously the tea was hers, and as obviously she chose to enter when Aven’s tale reached the point it had.

She balanced the tray on the low table and poured the wine. Taking her cup, she left the men to their glasses. McSee fetched a chair and placed it beside his. He now sat between Rayne and Averroes.

What happened next? Rayne asked.

I think Averroes should take it from here.

Rayne studied the floor. It matters not who tells it.

I know, but it’s her story.

Averroes’ eyes were big and dark as she spoke.

Ever since I can remember - and I remember only being alone on the streets of Galilan - I have had the medal. It was my guardian and I trusted it more than any person alive … or dead.

She stared into the mass of silver candles behind Aven.

On the morning Aven found me it was hidden in my shoe, the chain had broken. She smiled sadly, a young, unsure woman recalling a difficult childhood. After coming to Farinwood I found I no longer needed my protector, that I was loved and safe. She smiled at Aven. I knew it was a magical device and was petrified Aven would be angry or disappointed. She shrugged and focused on McSee. Valarians have trampled upon magic, it’s such a shame.

McSee nodded. Rayne remained still, his gaze on Aven. The old man returned the stare without expression.

When I came upon Aven, the device took over. I didn’t have to hide, for Aven is a sorcerer, but habits ingrained by survival are hard to set aside.

The stress of memory and the tension of being the centre of attention began to tell. She looked helplessly at the old man, who tore his gaze from Rayne to smile at her.

I will take it from here.

There was a protracted silence. McSee frowned and fidgeted. Aven seemed deep in thought.

Say it, old man, Rayne snapped.

Aven’s head swivelled to him. When I took it from her it burned a circle into the palm of my hand.

McSee jumped up, spilling his chair and setting the candles a-flutter. His face lit with inner fire, confusion appearing to vanish. Is it what I think it is? It knowing only one master … or mistress, and he glanced at Averroes, but she was withdrawn and silent, at a given time and if another touches it, it burns. He faced Rayne. My lord, do you know what this means?

You are babbling, Rayne said. Rising, he pressed the big man into the chair Averroes righted for him. Sit, man, and let me get this straight. Let us not make announcements yet.

McSee looked up at him, uncertain. Do you know what it is?

Rayne inclined his head. I have a fair idea, but wait, all right?

Why?

Rayne murmured, You will know soon enough. He looked at Averroes. What was Aven’s reaction to the burning?

He was astounded, as if it were impossible, Averroes said as she lifted her head. Then he was excited, a hundred times more than McSee now.

Did he tell you? Rayne queried of Averroes.

No, he did not, Aven snapped out. Address yourself to me, Rayne, and stop frightening her.

Forgive me, Averroes, Rayne murmured, and shifted his gaze to Aven. Well?

I paid a visit to Galilan to check. Only then was I sure.

Ah. How astute. Rayne glanced back at Averroes. Did he then tell you?

She rose, inserted a hand into the neck of her gown, and withdrew the device. It lay on her outstretched palm. Her hand was small and the coin dwarfed it, yet it was not that large.

Perfectly circular and of matt gold that did not draw the light of the chamber and did not reflect either, it was covered in glyphs, the symbols of magic. As a piece of jewellery it was worth a fortune and as a tool of magic it was priceless.

A slim golden chain dangled from Averroes’ slender fingers.

McSee dragged his hands through thick red hair, releasing an explosive breath, but dared nothing further. The object frightened him, there in her hand.

Aven had eyes only for Rayne. It’s real.

Averroes said, This is the Maghdim Medaillon.

"The Supreme Wisdom," McSee whispered, awed. Missing since Drasso’s demise and here it was … in her hand, there.

Rayne’s lips drew back. Have I been a puppet all these years? As far as I know the Maghdim is in a vault in Galilan.

McSee squawked, but was ignored.

Why have you said nothing, old man? Rayne’s right hand ran through his fair hair, forehead to neck in agitation, before he growled, Let us see then. His left hand moved. Had he known what was to follow - well, perhaps he would still have acted the way he did. Hindsight was not always corrective.

A copy exists, you know that, Aven remarked, watching Rayne.

What, in Taranis’ name, are you doing? McSee shouted and pushed from his chair, eyes on that gesturing left hand.

Aven snagged McSee’s sleeve.

Motionless, Averroes watched Rayne.

Wait, McSee, Aven whispered.

Wait? McSee blurted. He’s making a warding gesture!

No, he is not. He is weaving.

"Weaving?" McSee screeched, paling markedly.

The Maghdim Enchantment. Now shut up.

McSee wrenched free, watching that moving hand. The gestures became complex, unlike anything McSee theorized.

Rayne’s right hand clenched in a bloodless fist at his side … and grey eyes flashed in the silvery light. Those eyes caused McSee to shiver.

Averroes left the clasp of the chain undone when she placed the device on her palm, and now it slithered through her fingers, unravelling with metallic whispers. She twitched. McSee thought the sounds otherworldly.

The chain fell to the floor, and silence returned. It was not soothing.

Freed, the golden coin rose from Averroes’ palm.

Aven’s breath whistled out. Rayne’s right hand unclenched, clenched and unclenched again, and then he lifted it palm up. The device was motionless between outstretched hands. Aven’s breath whistled in, and so did McSee’s.

The Medaillon moved, nudging to rest into the hollow of Rayne’s hand.

Averroes twisted to look at Aven. You did not tell me everything.

The Medaillon did not burn Rayne.

McSee’s breath wheezed in and out.

Aven said, "This is the Maghdim Medaillon, Rayne. The one in Galilan is the replica fashioned by Ugarth. I cannot say when the switch was made, but Thane travelled long, perhaps he took the original along as protection, or perhaps he protected it by keeping it with him, I do not know. And who can say how it passed from him to Averroes."

You liar! The Mantle had it all along! Spittle flew as McSee gave vent to growing ire. "Last night you judged me! What game are you playing, you hypocrite? I have never put my knowledge into practice and here you are! You weaved an ancient enchantment effortlessly! Curse you … and McSee grabbed Rayne by the collar, … you’re the sorcerer here!"

Let him go, Aven said.

When McSee ignored him, he forced a temporary paralysis on the man with a flick of one hand. McSee cried out and stumbled to his chair, arms dangling.

Aven heaved, glaring at McSee. Stay put, hear? We do not need another volatile temper, and yours will set his off. The man has deep wells of anger. Let it be, and learn from this. Many issues will surface to shock us. We better get used to it.

He’s a sorcerer, McSee said. He lied.

Rayne cannot lie, Aven said. He didn’t see fit to tell you. And he is not a simple sorcerer.

Stop defending him, McSee hissed. A weave? That’s no parlour trick!

Rayne is First Rank, Aven said. And only he can truly command the Maghdim.

Chapter 3

Oh raptor, oh hawk, oh little birdie, take me aloft on your wings!

~ Tattle’s scribe

Northern Valaris

Meth Peninsula

SAMSON OF THE Mye dropped a hoe onto his foot, but that ache was as nothing compared to the one in his head. Those hoeing along with him in warm sunshine looked on in some confusion when he ignored his foot to grab convulsively at his head.

Silas tossed farm tools aside. Samson, what’s the matter? He attempted to prise the man’s fingers from his face.

Silas and Samson were best friends, and Silas could be trusted to find the underlying cause of a problem. As the others crowded around, they let the man help his friend and did not offer unnecessary advice. Samson was the strong man of their clan; not much could fell him.

Samson was beyond speech. He sank to his knees clutching his head. Strange images flashed through his mind - a land he had never seen, people dressed in a different way and, most potent of all, an image of a well in a forest. Then he covered his ears. He could hear a voice, no, two … many voices, calling, calling, calling … he cried out in pain and fear.

Silas gestured decisively, and they lifted Samson and carried him to his mother’s hut with him alternately clutching his head and his ears. Then they waited outside while the herbman was brought in to examine their ailing friend, silently urging the man to hurry.

Sometime later, the herbman came out, shaking his head, and pronounced he could find nothing amiss. No heart murmurs, no head injuries. Shaking his head some more, he muttered off.

Samson’s friends were more worried than ever.

Far to the south, Rayne closed his hand over the Maghdim Medaillon.

When the Mye clan stirred the following morning, Samson had vanished, taking with him a small leather bag, a change of clothes, a water bottle and his faithful sling.

IN THE NEIGHBOURING valley, the San celebrated their Bellwether’s birthday. There was much merriment and delicious smells wafted into the air. The Bellwether loved a grand merrymaking.

Cristi was in charge of basting suckling pigs slowly roasting over open fires. She was truly shy and thus the task suited her well. She could watch the festivities while having a legitimate excuse not to join in.

Her mother noticed her arch and stiffen. Cristi cried out and collapsed dangerously close to the hot coals. Her mother shouted for help and rushed over. When she got there, Cristi lay stiff with eyes wide. Wailing despair, she dragged her daughter away from the threatening embers, at first thinking her dead, but someone checking her pulse whispered, She’s alive.

They carried her to their hut where she slowly regained awareness. Probably the heat from the fires, poor girl, they murmured. Cristi told them to return to the celebration; she would be along shortly, she merely needed fresh air.

Rayne opened his hand once more. The Medaillon glittered in his palm.

Much later, when her mother wondered why Cristi had not yet returned, her daughter was missing, having taken clothes, food, a water bottle and her knife pouch.

FURTHER NORTH STILL, where snow adorned the mountains even in summer, the Kinna were about daily tasks.

Mordan did not have much to do. He was too old for energy-consuming chores and left those now to the younger ones.

This day the clan was out picking nuts, barring the old couple up on the hillside working the vegetable patch behind their cottage, and thus he sat slumbering under the big fig tree and allowed his thoughts to