The Foundations of Power: Book Two of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus

By Seth Giolle

The Kings and their nobles; the Hawk and his rebellion; and Keiritte Alo and his Alo soldiers work feverishly to create a strong position for the battle to come that will decide the fate of the Valley of Nieve Alo and everyone living in it. While they toil at their labours, there is ever an unseen hand working in the shadowy background.

Weaving his spells and manipulating the world around him.

Let the puppets struggle to gain power. Let them think themselves strong. Let some throw themselves in his way to try and stop his every measure. He is growing invulnerable to any act of will or stubborn bravado.

Were they ever a threat?

The third sword resists bonding with its chosen wielder out of time, but the Watcher has waited long enough. Goelldn-Auk, Bvorntwenn, DiJennai - the Three Swords of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus will be claimed and united. When that time comes, his Volgath will be exacted.

Power is an illusion.

He is very real.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475911541

Seth Giolle

Seth Giolle was born on a small, rural farm in southeast Ontario. After Travelling throughout Canada in all its splendour, he once again makes Ontario his home.

Book preview

The

Foundations of

Power

Book Two of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus

For all those whose hearts are free,

whose souls are hungry, and

whose minds are ready.

Seth Giolle

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

The Foundations of Power

Book Two of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus

Copyright © 2012 by Seth Giolle.

Cover Illustration: Jane Hoople

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-1153-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-1155-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-1154-1 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012906642

iUniverse rev. date: 04/20/2012

Contents

Part 1

Character Log

Prologue

Dark Riders

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Part 2

Character Log

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Epilogue

Appendix A

Appendix B

Appendix C

Appendix D

Appendix E

Appendix F

Appendix G

My thanks to my sister for her

invaluable editorial and artistic contribution

to this novel series to date. And to my

mother who never failed to support a

worthwhile dream or creative ambition.

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Foundations of Power

Part 1

Gathering Dark

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Character Log

Rebellion:

The Hawk, bearer of Goelld’n-Auk, the First Sword of the Legacy

Atkleas, bearer of Elnhome

GossAr

Tersha

Grocia, Eltoq, Felissa

Aliis, student mage

Alo:

Lord Keiritte Alo, bearer of Bvornt’wenn, the Second Sword of the Legacy

Captain Otril

Assistant Chief Advisor Feshil

Leftenant DesTra

Fremen

Royal Forces:

High King Jehan Dlo ll

King Durlan

Duke Etaq Di San

Earl Goshicin Ni.de-Lanl

Lord Rel Rione

Captain DeCon Nesyi, Captain to Duke Etaq Di San

The Earl, Earl Derhal of Davergen

Other:

Ferlenn Dri, mage

Nere-Le-Net Riolne, combat mage

Osseeth Zil, bearer of Di’Jennai, the Third Sword of the Legacy

Ashlin, bearer of Galarna, the Green Sword

Kael, Guardian

The Man in the Weathered Brown Robes, Auk Tria Yus, wizard, shape-shifter, master of Blades

Dothor, student of Ferlenn Dri, master of Keiritte Alo

Dwarves:

Sachteth, Leader of Clan Tinrel

Tertoth, Northern Dwarf

Prologue

Grocia grew up a quiet, simple life crafting shoes with his grandparents, but all that changed when a new prisoner was brought into Davergen and placed in their dungeons. All that changed when that man needed rescuing. Through that twist of fate, Grocia learned many secrets that had been kept from him over the years: his parents had been spies for the rebellion, his grandfather had done the same, and his world of peace and safety had all been a lie.

In honour of his grandfather, in search of adventure, and to find his path in life, Grocia joined the rebellion and secret calling that had once belonged to his parents and grandparent, and in his time with the rebellion, he’s found a new, strong family and faced many challenges from the Chet Kayas to giant wasps, ogres, and royal troops, and he has faced death many times over to defend his friends both old and new.

Nieve Alo. Home of Keiritte Alo. Brother of the Hawk.

Nieve Alo. The scene of the great battle where the Kings suffered defeat at the hands of the rebellion and Alo soldiers, the Hawk and Keiritte Alo reunited in cause.

Nieve Alo. The valley that now lays in siege as the Kings prepare their revenge for that loss.

The allied forces, rebel and Alo, must find a way to save the valley and its people or watch them die. Grocia is still finding his path in life. He’s still dealing with old demons, and life keeps on delivering fresh discoveries he isn’t prepared to face, but he must face them and become the hero the world needs him to be.

The Hawk and Keiritte Alo are facing even greater challenges.

Beyond the constant threat of royal patrols and the pressing siege on Nieve Alo, there is the threat of Clan Wars, barbarians are growing bolder and far more unpredictable, and someone is meddling in their affairs. The Hawk can’t place their enemy, but someone is manipulating everything they do to meet his own ends.

And there’s been a calling.

Long ago, the Wizard Auk Tria Yus crafted three enchanted blades fusing them with the spirits of three, powerful dragons. Those swords were said to form the core of a powerful spell, but they’ve never each had bearers at the same time. That spell has never been completed.

Until now.

Goelld’n-Auk, carried by the Hawk, Bvornt’wenn, in the possession of Keiritte Alo, and Di’Jennai, as yet unclaimed, are about to be reunited. Di’Jennai has just been claimed. Though the sword’s bearer has yet to be made clear, the three blade of the Legacy of Auk Tria Yus are about to meet as one.

The truth of their creation and design are about to become clear.

The truth of their creator is about to be revealed.

A single, proud, allied Valley is threatened, but the fate of the world hangs in the balance.

Dark Riders

Heroes mark times; eras revolve

around hopes, fears, and loves;

heroes revolving around these, showing

what is good and glorious—

saving innocence from evils that

beat all virtues down.

Our years are full of idols, giving

the world something to believe in; they have

got something that’s theirs.

Those heroes die . . . don’t they?

Duke Englimon JgoMore stood five feet, seven inches and walked with perfect posture. His white, ruffled shirt almost glowed under his golden vest and dark brown waist coat, and his fine, black shoes made a crisp, defined tap along on the marble under foot.

Those behind him matched his pace without question.

JgoMore led a solemn, reverent procession of twenty-one soldiers, two rows of ten, one man before those twin lines. Most of the soldiers wore blue tunics over leather armour. The single soldier, walking directly behind JgoMore, wore a red band around his upper right arm, marking him as their Captain. His short, brown hair was combed to the right. That part and a pronounced chin and rigid bone structure marked his key features.

Together, the procession marched silently through pristine, light blue halls.

The floor they walked on had been recently sanded and waxed, an intricately woven, red and gold carpet running its length, typical of all halls in Duke JgoMore’s castle. Around the procession this day, the walls bore steel and stone.

Ancient and glorious heroes lined the walls. They either stood or knelt on separate pedestals poised in battle. Spears, sharp and deadly, were aimed in the statues’ hands. Swords, short and broad, were drawn.

Every five feet, a medium-sized window was cut into the ornate walls, and above and below each window was the sign of their religion, Grionde: thee circles, a small one on the inside bottom right of the largest, a second smaller one hiding behind those. Above them, chandeliers of green and blue cut-crystal sparkled in the suns’ light.

Reflections from the chandeliers played over the statues, giving the figures the illusion of movement. At night, the chandeliers would glow purple and gold from an enchantment the court’s mages had created. Today, with the addition of a steady wind, the chandeliers swayed back and forth, chiming rhythmically.

The group turned to their right.

The further into this second hallway, the more the walls changed. Now, there were paintings on the walls between the individual statues showing famous battles from history with heroes and villains engaged in mortal conflict. Some paintings were covered by red velvet curtains like most of the windows this far in as the sunlight would otherwise damage the art work.

The walls changed once more as the group made its final turn, this time to their left.

Now, there were grouped statues. Whole battle scenes were portrayed in clay. Great saviours held aloft their enemy’s heads. Hosts of enemies lay dead on recreated battlefields, the Kings’ banner mounted behind each fight, and their shields showed the Kings’ mark: two crossed swords.

The windows were larger here. No curtains were to be seen, and the suns’ light cascaded over and onto the central statue now before them.

Grio.dyness Ty-on.

The duke and his followers came to a stop and kneeled in unison reverently before this statue.

Grio.dyness-Tyon, tall and muscular, knelt with his head raised. The statue wore heavy, jointed armour, a small, carven symbol of Grionde on his right shoulder. He leaned on his sword and smiled confidently.

Plated in gold, the sword set itself apart from the clay hand that held it. Fine, silver etchings were carved along its length in the shape of runes, and its handle and hilt were carved from ivory and bone.

After a time of silence, the procession rose to a stand and waited for a signal from their liege. JgoMore stayed on one knee a minute longer. When he stood, he signalled for them to leave but waved for their Captain to stay. The procession turned and left leaving the two men alone before the statue.

What news, Captain? JgoMore asked reservedly, standing, hands clasping behind his back, still eying the statue while he spoke.

The Earl Mongerjol an Trus’ lands have been succeeded properly, sir, the Captain replied, keeping his head low and voice respectful. His half-brother has taken claim.

JgoMore sighed, clearly unimpressed. Why has it taken so long? What of his tribute?

Family ties run thin in the Earl’s line, sir. It took almost three weeks to find his half-brother, Eyarlu an Trus, and another two to prepare him for leadership. He raises a new army for tribute as we speak. He is confident they will be ready within a few months.

His line was thin, JgoMore said, bringing his right hand to his chin and following the lines along the golden sword in Grio.dyness Ty-on’s hand with his eyes more closely. "No one will miss the man, simply his army.

King Durlan wishes to strengthen Grionde in the towns where its practice has been slipping before we attack Alo, so waiting for his numbers aren’t an issue. In part, I agree. This world needs to know who’s in command, or squashing the allied rabble would ultimately just allow future concerns. That’s why we haven’t rid ourselves of the fifth yet. Generation after generation, they just keep coming back no matter how many thousands we kill. We must make this a decisive strike or risk more ridiculous repetition. Yes, waiting and ensuring a proper and complete win has it definite merits. Grio.dyness and his brother made this land. It’s time the people were reminded of what’s right and proper no matter how many of them have to die in the process. What news of the Hawk?

He has vanished again, sir, the Captain said nervously, proud eyes dropping for a moment. No matter how many of his followers we kill, he evades us. Our scouts never return and all we find are tracks. We question townspeople and villagers, using all means at our disposal, but they won’t talk.

You’ve had over a month to find him, JgoMore said in a low, steadily rising voice, slowly cracking his knuckles. In that time, store houses have been raided, horses stolen, and prisoners released. Our own castle has been broken into and vandalized, he spat. JgoMore sneered, locking his Captain in a venomous glare. "Understanding King Durlan’s intent doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy seeing their numbers flushed out and slaughtered, however short the effect.

I am losing my patience with every failed attempt, Captain. No one can vanish at will. Don’t be a fool. Our orders to find him come from the High King Jehan on this. He wished to see this filth dead too. I will see that his will is done. If I fail, you die. Is that clear? he asked, turning to the statue again.

Maybe it’s time you stop targeting his men, he continued sarcastically. The towns hide him, and if we hurt enough of the simple people, someone will talk. Stop torturing. Go for the slaughter. Again, am I clear? he asked, glaring backwards. The captain solemnly bowed his head lower, slowly lifting it back up again. And what of Keiritte Alo and his precious Nieve Alo? JgoMore asked with a more calculated expression.

Lord Alo conducts trade as usual. Nieve Alo, Sir, is reconstructed and growing again.

Let it. It will be of no consequence.

What of the Black Fire, sir?

JgoMore’s eyes were hesitant at first, but they solidified into a dignified confidence. Know this, Captain: there are plans in the works. We will make sure Keiritte Alo will pay for his actions. His invincible army and magical sword will not be enough to save him. Not even his Black Fire will stand up against our might. When the time is right, all our soldiers and plans in place, he will regret that he ever opposed the two Kings and came to the rescue of that pathetic rebellion. Your concern should be the Hawk. Without their leader, this rebellion will fall.

I welcome any suggestions you may have, sir, the Captain said respectfully, his body tense and eyes nervous. What towns should we target?

JgoMore tore his eyes from the statue, sighed tiredly, and then, started to slowly pace along the marble floor. Where has he been sighted?

From Kasmin to Atvian, even as far south as Thios.

That’s no help, JgoMore breathed. Fine, then, we’ll pick somewhere more central for us, well within the range of those sightings. I’m feeling inspired. JgoMore nodded, a curved smile forming. Let’s bring him to us. Tell the men to prepare for battle. You must leave someone else to supervise the preparations. I have another job for you. You are to take three men on a special mission. The Captain raised his head and stood straighter than before.

You must find me some helpers and lead them to Callong Canyon, JgoMore added with a sly grin, turning to face his Captain. After that, you will return here and take command of the army waiting for the march. Before our dogs are done, as I’m sure they’ll be finished off quickly enough, you will ride out with that army and erase the Hawk and his rebellion from our land.

Understood, sir. I’m not sure they’ll help us though, sir, the Captain added quietly. The barbarians are only now accepting our rule, and that has taken some work. This might take more immediate persuasion.

JgoMore stopped his pacing and smiled. He turned to face the statue again.

I know what you mean, JgoMore grudgingly conceded. I have told Earl Goshicin they’re useless at anything except killing, and even at that, they question our orders, thinking they have the right to decide who they kill and when, he noted, laughing and shaking his head. "He doesn’t share my concerns. Still, we do need them. The barbarians serve our purpose, and we reward that, don’t we?

No, they will not be our helpers at first, he continued with a sigh. You must convince them to help. Give them the usual food and weapons, and you’ll find a little success. In this case, that simply won’t be enough, so we’ll find another way to keep their focus this time.

Englimon’s stare was intent as he walked up to the statue and placed his right hand on its sword. Soon, there will be no doubt what sword bears real power. There will be no doubt where the rightful ruler of the land and its people resides. There can be only one golden sword, Captain. We must kill this Golden Hawk before the people start to question where his heritage lies. None can believe for a second that he links back to the great Grio.dyness. We cannot have this insolent, petulant filth insulting the name of a great man, a true hero.

The Captain nodded and stood silent. Englimon ran his fingers down the gold and silver, then, turned to face the doorway. As he made to walk back along the hallway, he stopped.

Captain, the people must know we will not stand for anyone killing our nobility, not with the celebrations to come. This monarchy has stood for twenty thousand years, and it is still strong. The people must not doubt our strength. Now come, we will be late as it is. On the way, I’ll let Earl Goshicin know of our plans, and I shall tell you my suggestion on how we might persuade our dogs to heel.

Before we go, sir, the Captain said, swallowing carefully, I thought I should mention that there’s been another sighting, sir.

Sighting? Sighting of what, Captain?

The Dark Riders. The words were nearly inhaled, JgoMore rolling his eyes, the Captain lowering his. There were two of them this time.

JgoMore shook his head angrily. You are a fool, Captain. They’re a myth, a story the people tell their children so they’ll sleep at night. The Dark Riders are not real. They do not marshal the dead. They’re probably travellers, rebels even, having fun with us. Tell the men to kill any man, any rider, who dresses in a black cloak. Is that understood? The Captain nodded decidedly. Good. Now, if we’re done with all this superstitious garbage, we have places to be.

The two men made their way from the statue and back through the hallways, their footsteps echoing long after they’d gone.

Once outside, they waited for the doors to close behind them, and two guards moved the large bar into place, blocking entry before returning to their positions on either side of the thick, wooden doors. JgoMore walked to the edge of the balcony and looked upon his lands.

In his courtyard, twelve floors down, thirty sparring rings were set up, pairs and trios fighting in each while future combatants watched. Around each ring, commanders walked, barking orders and instructions, belittling failures harshly, often with the crack of a whip and rewarding success with gold and promotion at someone else’s expense.

Closer to the white, outer wall, several hundred other soldiers were gathered, a sea of silver with their shields, halberds, and swords poised in formation. Up and down the rows, generals rode inspecting the men about to go out on patrol, grimacing more often than not.

JgoMore looked past the courtyard and well-guarded ramparts.

Set along the horizon, a large town sat, organized in sections based on what function the workers did for the castle. Those who worked in the castle itself lived in the nearer housing, and those working the fields or tending the horses and livestock lived the furthest away where the farming was done.

Smiling, the duke took in the houses themselves. His engineers had worked long and hard to construct the strongest houses they could, and he liked what they’d come up with. Each house had a clay base with metal reinforcement, and the roofs were thinned out so the hay could breathe. That way, they’d had fewer fires from the hay simply igniting without warning.

JgoMore had always loved the theatre and had ultimately designed his town in the general shape of an amphitheatre with the castle as its podium. Large storage boxes could be seen in sets of five every third row holding extra weapons should the town come under attack and the soldiers need refuelling. The forest that had once surrounded the castle and town now huddled a good hundred feet to their left as if it feared the town would get hungry once more, and a large mountain range sat to their right.

In the middle, JgoMore had a clear view of anyone approaching his castle. Completing the picture, people moved throughout the town, hundreds of men tilling the fields and bringing in the crops further out. Women could be seen working dough and bustling around the iron stoves while monitoring fresh clothes hung to dry and managing large groups of wayward children. JgoMore smiled. With the suns shining high above his part of the world, it would be a good day.

He nodded and signalled to a falconer further along the railing. The man stepped forward and handed his Duke a small, white bit of parchment. The dark brown falcon on his right hand shifted slightly, small black spots along the white of its stomach. Perched securely where it was, the falcon’s head searched out every sound as it came. The small, leather helmet it wore blocked its sight, but clearly, its hearing was still quite acute.

Taking the parchment, JgoMore thought for a second; then, he drew a small, black quill the falconer was quick to offer, along with a small bottle of ink found in a leather pouch just off his right hip. The message was quick and succinct, the parchment quickly attached to the falcon’s left leg, the falcon then released, flying off and disappearing into the blue and golden suns.

Now, Captain, JgoMore said, smiling and starting to walk again, the Captain immediately falling in at his right, I know of the closest band of barbarians. They have a woman mate that likes to travel. The Captain nodded, and JgoMore stopped long enough to check on some supplies being delivered before resuming his walk again. Kill her, he continued distractedly, and blame it on the settlers in Callong Canyon. That will get their interest, and with the supplies I’ll give you to deliver to them, and our offered help to see their justice served, they’ll learn to look upon us more as close friends, as their loyal helpers in fact. It’ll help us trap the rebellion and aid the greater picture all at the same time.

Yes, sir.

I’ll write the note for you to give them. I’ll have to try and imagine how to write common and keep it simple, so the dogs can understand it. Thinking the settlers have the woman, they’ll attack, and as bottle-necked as they are in there, the settlers won’t be able to escape. They’ll be easily slaughtered.

And the Hawk will come to rescue them, the Captain noted quietly.

And kill the barbarians, JgoMore accepted with a simple shrug, keeping Golden Hawk in one place, so you and my army have the time to ride in and kill him. Kill them all, Captain. Simple and easy, nowhere to melt and hide, nowhere to run. I like plans that work, Captain, and this one will work.

And if they don’t show, sir?

JgoMore slowly licked his teeth, releasing a dry frown and deep sigh. Then we harvest their crops and try again. There are always homeless willing to settle empty homes. It won’t be hard to build a new Callong Canyon. It never is.

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Chapter One

The Puppeteer

Stand still, the old man growled, upper lip curling. Edila cowered in silence. Her purple robes were fading, hair, now a dull brown, fell from her shoulders to hang around her drooped head. She swallowed hard and clasped cold hands cautiously. The old man in his weathered, brown robes muttered something under his breath and frowned across at her for an extended moment, wondering if it was worth putting up with her for the sake of a spell he’d likely never use. Shaking his head ruefully, he looked back to the cave floor.

Fine granite dust that partially covered the cave floor started moving. Each fine grain of that ground stone built upon one another until they’d formed a small castle standing six inches tall. More granite dust gathered to build the valley floor before it with houses and fields. Cliff walls grew around that valley and castle like a protective oval bowl with a cupped lid growing across and over the castle back. That cliff top spread outwards for a moment to form forests and open plains before falling, the dust no longer holding any solid form.

Nieve Alo, he muttered distractedly. It will fall, but not before I say so.

With a flick of his wrist, the granite dust collapsed entirely, and an unseen wind sped them nearly across the room where they rose together to form small cliffs, one atop another, a castle on each and a joint wall around both. The stone floor was free of dirt and dust in a wide, barren circle around those newly formed cliffs until a large castle with five thick walls took shape, each of the castle’s walls like steps leading down to open, flowing fields.

Below the two cliffs, a strong, shorter castle took shape with shaped dust marking a vast army on the move, and a smaller-still castle now showed to the right to the cliffs, large hills to one side of it. North of the central cliffs, there was nothing but smooth stone flooring.

And those pathetic fools in their castles, the old man spat, gesturing angrily to the central cliffs, which fell into dust once more, before rising again, the old man summoning more magic to hold them again, sneering with distaste, would have the valley squashed in no time at all. Those armies will not have Alo until I am ready.

He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Olive green runes showed in the air a second later, hovering above those grained armies riding and marching south. Unheard words were mouthed, and the runes dripped above the armies. The old man nodded wearily.

They’ll stop a few leagues off, he offered with a sigh, but one must not alter things so. They must feel they’re in control. There must be a logical explanation to things, or people begin to doubt and think for themselves, and we can’t have that. I’ve had enough with rebellions in my time, certainly where I am their chosen target. Though, managed wisely, he added, eying Edila irritably, the woman’s eyes dropping under his watchful gaze again, they have their uses, just so long as they don’t get too wise or too strong.

The dust collapsed, the old man reshaping it to show the Alo valley once again, then, quickly, adding a claw-shaped range with a fertile valley at its core. We must keep them busy, Edila, just as we must keep them in pace. That includes the Kings, their nobility, the rebels, and our Alo host.

The rebels won’t make a move without me knowing it, master, Edila grovelled hungrily. The old man scowled. I could do more though, she quickly added. Her next words stopped dead as he raised his hand.

You’ve done enough, he snapped dryly, and I’m already too busy to deal with your last failure at Alo to offer you a chance to fail again so miserably. He flexed his right hand as if to strike, but then, simply frowned and shook his head instead. You have been given this chance. Do what I ask, and keep your eye on them, and you might not die this day or the next. She nodded low, and he looked to the floor again.

The granite dust collapsed yet again, then, speeding this way and that, castles and mountains forming, then, falling and moving swiftly across the floor to form the next. They have their armies already, the old man noted softly, pensively, arms crossed. His hands slipped inside wide sleeves. They must feel they need more. We will convince them, yes, he added with a careful nod, "to time the Battle for Alo for Jerr-Sta’Llal. They’ll like that one, and with the fear I’ve just spread through Di San’s ranks, they’ll see the use in such timing.

A whisper in the right mage’s ear of constellations and old foretellings, and the suggestion will take seed: bring down the legends the Alo army has built up fighting Trus, build up armies, and plan the coming victory for a glorious time to match the victories of old. The Kings are pompous. They’ll follow, however grudgingly, like they always have; only, this time, they’ll take a gentler hand. Jehan’s almost realized that they can rule without a mage’s meddling. Imagine that. He laughed a bit before the smile faded to a more thoughtful, troubled frown. "Their frivolous attempts to stand against tradition must stay reverie for things to work out as they should. This will take tending to when I’d rather be doing other things though. Still, one does what one must.

"We must make sure things work smoothly this time as now is when things matter the most. Once the swords are set, there’s little free will or interference can do to stop the inevitable, so now counts. A lot to do.

"Maybe too much for one man?

There are always willing fools, but it’s so hard to find help one can count on. Isn’t it? he asked, smiling smugly. Edila still stood quietly across the room. He sighed. It’s been some time since these corridors have known proper company after all. Planting a few seeds to see what comes can’t hurt. Which makes even more to do, he rued softly.

Somehow, I need to find the time to force the union with the third, final sword.

The granite dust took solid shape several feet below where the armies had moved. A thick forest grew around a large Keep and village set upon what was obviously fertile ground. The granite dust that formed that secluded community transformed.

It swirled into one central teen walking on the spot. She wore comfortable pants and an oversized shirt. Long hair fell down her back in braids, and she walked with a carefree gait. Dust beside where she stood took shape to form an old woman pacing patiently by the teen’s side. The girl slowed and took on a slower pace beside her elder.

None of my texts have given me the answer to this. The blade resists. She is young. The grandmother became dust again. The dust that had formed her body mixed with that of the girl, and the three dimensional shape of the youth grew a few inches taller. I’m not even sure why it has chosen her as its bearer. She does seem clever, but Di’Jennai has passed on other more clever people for generations. What does this one have the others didn’t? Curious. Frustrating. She is still young, but clearly able. The blade accepts this fact but refuses to link with her ahead of schedule, he spat, clearly disgusted. Edila shrunk back a step. We will see about that. What am I missing?

He paused to look over the cave floor beneath his feet once again. The granite dust fell, then formed the whole smaller world at once. Castles, cliffs, and forest all rose up keeping perfect ratio to the other three dimensional relief around it. His eyes scanned the trees and rivers as if his answer lay hidden somewhere in those gullies. An army turned back to Di San’s castle. A band of travellers moved to the south. Birds hovered in places captured in flight. The effect was so real, and he simply scowled at it all.

So much randomness, he groaned. Is that my problem? The blades are one with their bearers and the world in its time. Have I been so busy with the Kings and their pathetic mages to have misinterpreted the signs of this age? He sneered and shook his head. It may be that I need to get to know this world of mine better again. The old magic needs refreshing with the current life force.

A wry grin formed.

Steer the puppets to keep them on track while I learn from them what I need to complete my spell casting? he asked softly, the grin turning dark. Manipulate them and learn how to force Di’Jennai to link with the girl. I’ve waited long enough for my plan to work, too long for three strong sword bearers like I have before me now. I will not wait for the swords to choose any longer. The union of the three will work just fine now. I’ll not have anyone or anything tell me what to do. And this way, he added with a contented sigh, I can watch the pawns die in person. Yes, I’ve missed that. There was a satisfied inhale. "So it shall be. Ideas to plant. Dreams to mould. Things to do. First, I need to set up what is to come. We can’t have JgoMore’s pets being killed off too soon after all. All pieces must fit into the fate I have decided for them.

Stay here, he commanded, whipping his head around to glare at Edila, his eyes becoming a brighter green. Monitor the rebels and let me know what they’re up to. With some low, muttered words, his appearance changed. The old, brown robes became a hooded, tan cloak over weathered, brown pants. Commoner’s boots, smooth, calloused hands, and wiry, black hair completed the picture as the old man became the vision of twenty four.

Only the fierce, green eyes remained the same.

Callong Canyon must not be prepared for the attack that’s to come. Friendly Kalepp must pay them a visit and assure them all’s well, he mused with a frown. I’ll be back soon enough, he added wearily, turning and walking towards the archway to the next room.

Approaching the stone archway, he stared coldly ahead and muttered quiet Words of Power. The air that took up space beneath that stone archway seemed to wave as if silver water now hovered mid-air, suspended on its side, rippling from left to right. He walked on and through that archway, but he wasn’t in the next room one step later.

Meeting that archway, he stepped through and out onto a canyon floor instead. The air behind where he now stood showed the same silver wave for a moment before returning to normal air. As the portal behind him dissolved into nothing, he nodded.

The canyon floor around him wasn’t all sand, but there was a dry wind that blew, and the suns beat down gave the air a warm, near-stifling feel. There were trees left and right that spanned outwards ultimately past distant homesteads and lonely barns up to tall, the monolith walls that enclosed the vast canyon. He peered around with chagrin.

There was an opening and a natural, rickety-looking entryway behind him. There was a silence to the emptiness around them that magnified his frown. He whispered a quiet spell, closed his eyes, and inhaled deep. Then, garbed in that hooded, tan cloak over weathered, brown pants and those commoner’s boots, smooth, calloused hands, and wiry, black hair, he forced a smile.

Cantel, he shouted in a broken, tenor voice, stop watching me and come do you job already. The sound of shifting feet could be heard, and branches swished. A large man with a larger stomach stepped out into the open. This man carried a heavy crossbow and chewed on a thought. Twelve other men bearing pitchforks and rusty pikes stepped out and milled around behind him. It took you long enough to notice I was standing here, he mused with wry grin. The man screwed up his face. What? Don’t you know your old friend? It’s me, Kalepp.

The larger man looked closer. Kalepp? I heard you’d died.

You heard wrong. What are you doing about here?

The larger man scowled. Barbarians, he grumbled. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. What am I saying? the larger man groaned testily. You just walked through it. They’ve been killing a bunch of people all riled up about something. They were headed this way from all accounts. Are you sure you’re not dead? I heard lanchir found you. They each took pieces from what the others said.

Kalepp stepped forward with his arms out wide. Judge for yourself, he challenged dryly. Now what are you talking about barbarians for? There aren’t any barbarians out there doing anything. Who have you been talking to? The same people who told you I was eaten by lanchir? Seriously?

The larger man frowned, smiled, and then, playfully shook his head.

Come on, Kalepp goaded with a snicker, let’s go have a drink or two. I’ve been out for too long, and my throat’s parched. The men behind the larger man were nodding quietly. I’m buying, Kalepp added with gusto. The large man smiled further. And get the rest of these people home, or better yet, bring them along. When no one moved, Kalepp crossed his arms. Am I going to have to wrestle you down again? he goaded. The larger man groaned. How about one or two drinks to begin with; then, we’ll see about more?

One, the man growled tiredly.

Four of the men behind him were already walking away towards town grumbling about being pulled away from their work to man a post that was a waste of time. Others were complaining about being called to defend the canyon in the first place. That was work for hired hands, not busy merchants.

Kalepp strode up to the larger man and slapped him on the upper arm. So what have I been missing other than a few bad rumours? he mused.

The larger man shrugged. He turned and started off after the others, Kalepp chuckling beside him. Nothing, he mumbled sullenly. You know Dervan won’t abide abandoning our posts because you say the barbarians are coming, don’t you? He’ll want us to stay on guard no matter who says otherwise.

Oh, Kalepp countered smoothly, nodding confidently, leave him to me.

The larger man considered Kalepp’s grin carefully for a moment, then, finally just looked back to where he should be standing guard against the warned invasion. You’re sure they aren’t coming? he mumbled uneasily.

Not a barbarian in sight out there, Kalepp confirmed succinctly. The larger man frowned. Tell me, Kalepp pressed again, what have I missed? Anything of interest?

An old man in black came through a few hours ago, the larger man sighed.

Anyone I’d know? Kalepp asked offhandedly.

No. It’s odd. It was like he was just suddenly here, but I swear I never saw him there before. We let him go off on his own. I’m not even sure where he ended up. He told us to stand tighter, he noted dejectedly. He said our lives depended on us standing ready together. He was quite convincing too.

Kalepp slowly nodded while the larger man walked on mumbling sullenly blaming himself for having believed in crazy strangers. He didn’t see Kalepp’s eyes become a brighter green, then, dim again. Kalepp sent some men off to tell the other barricades and posts to go home already.

The danger had both passed and never been.

Black robes, Kalepp mused softly, appearing as if out of nowhere, eh? Imagine that.

Chapter Two

Ferlenn Dri

Shadow spread around the old porch swing; then, they drew inwards to form an old man in black robes sitting awkwardly on the side where the swing chain still held. He blinked a few times as the shadows returned to normal around him. He then looked to the cane leaning across his lap and nodded, wearily patting its smooth, honey-coloured finish with a shaky hand. Two dragons were carved into its top, wings tucked in and tails winding down near to the bottom. There was room for one more dragon. The tails and woven pattern going down gave space for another tail. It was incomplete. He looked to the porch under his broken, old swing and the house that supported it.

The canyon air was cool and fresh. Crickets chirped, and a coyote howled. The talking from inside was dying down, and he nodded again. He showed no surprise as the door opened, and a woman stepped out.

Long, grey hair, braided and tied, hung down her back. A grey hood sat atop a dark brown, hunting tunic, belted with a leather tie. For pants, she wore animal skins of different colours, sewn together separately, carefully, and her boots were sturdy and finely stitched as well. Though her face and hands showed signs of age, her eyes were alert, and she smiled, lost in her own thoughts for a time.

How long has it been, Dothor? he asked.

The woman turned and saw him there, smiling warily back.

Too long, she whispered sadly, closing her eyes for a moment. It’s good to see you, Master Dri. I was wondering where you were and what you were doing all these years. She paused and smiled. Keiritte survived his first test, but I suppose you knew that.

I did, Dri conceded slowly, taking in laboured breaths. I was there watching. You trained him well. Thank you. Dothor nodded, Dri shaking his head. Don’t mourn for me, he added, a smirk forming where he sat. I may not have the strength I once owned, but I am not dead yet, child.

Dothor grinned, but the grin didn’t last long. To what do I owe the pleasure? she asked, stepping a little closer. Is there something else you need done, master? Something else I can do for you?

Dri thought for a second before sighing. I was wondering if I could have something of yours, he finally replied, smiling politely. He looked to his cane with a resigned sadness. I need a piece of those I’m connected with for an important spell I’ve weaving.

Dothor nodded slowly. She closed her eyes for a moment before looking to her charms hanging off her belt and smiled. Will this do? she asked, detaching a small lightning bolt made of coloured glass. I crafted it during one of your lessons, she said with a nostalgic grin. I made three that day, and I still have two. Will this one do for your purposes?

Yes it will. Very much. Thank you.

Dothor handed the small charm across. Dri took it in a shaking palm. With a concentrated effort, he pressed the tiny bolt to the cane. This will do wonderfully, he noted hoarsely. With a subtle wince and laboured breath, he whispered words of power, and the bolt charm melted onto the wood between the set dragons. Coloured glass became stained wood that wove its thin tail down and around the cane like the other dragons. Wings and heads took shape. The third and final dragon was complete. And Dri heaved a laboured sigh, and adjusting his cane, he strained to stand. He stopped in a stoop and held up a hand to stop Dothor from helping him, nodding while he exhaled. A side-effect of age, he rued, coughing a little. Something I can now affect, thanks to you.

Master, Dothor whispered, pausing to gather her words, you could have simply taken the charm. Its loss would have been freely accepted as it was freely given.

He smiled at this. I could have, he admitted softly, as I did with the Hawk and Atkleas. It was Dothor’s turn to smile. "They are busy, so I didn’t bother them, and they might have asked for help and felt slighted that I couldn’t offer it. It’s complicated. And I wouldn’t blame them for the asking anyway. Things are quite tense with them now. Balance is so crucial if they’re to hold things together.

You were always the more mature student, and I wanted to thank you and see you again. Dothor blushed. You gave so much when others might have refused, Dri continued with a shrug, and I fear you’ve lost touch with those who mean the most to you. I am truly sorry for that.

I did what was needed, master. It’s as simple as that.

Dri nodded. That it is for some of us. I fear those who practise such faith are in failing number, child. We are a dying breed, Dothor. These are the times when our sacrifices mean the most. He looked to the night forlorn, that sadness returning to heavy eyes.

Are you hungry? Dothor asked, Dri shaking his head. Or thirsty maybe? There has to be something we can do to help you?

I cannot stay. He took a few steps and leaned on the nearest post. I have a prior engagement. I’ve been putting this off for too long. And there is nothing to do to save me now, physically at least. There’s been little to save me since I linked my magic to this world’s core so long ago. As the darkness and evil grows, I die.

Dothor closed her eyes. What will you do? she whispered.

Become something that can never die, Dri replied wistfully. I have known this moment was coming for a long time, child. He looked to the cane in his hand. With the three pieces I shared with my greatest pupils combined with this ancient wood and long-sought-after words of change, I will continue to do what I have always done, what I will do to the last of my days. Dothor let her eyes drop.

I will show him that he cannot win and will never win while free men and women stand their ground and refuse to give way. I will show him what a free person will give when he must. I thank you again. Don’t mourn me, he added softly, nodding his goodbyes. Pity the fool who thinks himself untouchable.

With that said, Dri closed his eyes and focused on a thought.

On a thought, he was taken away and the cane and its spell became active.

The human body was discarded, and Dri was absorbed into a thing of the mind.

To live as thoughts do.

Chapter Three

Distraction

Throughout the outer settlement surrounding Callong Canyon’s central town, men leaned on their shovels comparing notes on their most impressive near-death experiences. Scars were shown as required. From nearby stacks of grain or half-tended plots of land, other, younger men would randomly shout counters or share in a round of doubtful laughter from a story someone had just shared.

The women sweeping or cleaning around the close-knit houses and hung clotheslines would look up and over with tired, disapproving eyes. Children ran through and around those men seeking attention. They were sent off to chase each other or otherwise get into trouble until their mothers called them back to help with the laundry or gather something they’d made fall. The men ignored it all, and the stories kept coming.

They paused a moment to watch an older woman in traveller’s garb pass from one of the outlying homesteads. She walked with quick, alert steps and used a spear for a walking stick, and she stared down any man who glared her way.

I heard she was about, one man muttered after she’d passed.

I thought she was dead, another mused confusedly.

A dark-skinned man smiled and slapped Kalepp on the back hard. I guess you’re not the only one who can come back to life, he joked. The man turned to shout something over to his woman five houses down.

Kalepp closed his eyes, visibly fighting a quick, snappy retort. He then looked after the older woman and sniffed the air. That smell, he whispered, taking a few steps after her. So the rumours were true then.

I never thought I’d see another Ercharr in Callong Canyon, someone gibed.

I bet Groen Chet’s already on his way to meet and properly greet her, another grumbled. This will be worth the price of another ale. Who’s up for another one, eh? I tell you what. I’ll bet you three of Conkean’s blue men she doesn’t live the day.

I saw them, a short, balding Conkean defiantly announced, and they nearly skinned me alive.

The others roared in laughter and slapped their sulky friend on the back a few times over.

Kalepp followed after the older woman. Dothor Ercharr, he mumbled to himself. You carry a scent. He sniffed the air again. Dri’s been near you of late. I’ve come to recognize his meddling hand far too often over the years by instinct.

Dothor kept walking across the small gardens and tended fields where hay stalks sat being cut and lashed. He died last night, Kalepp mumbled softly. I could feel that fool’s life force fill the web. I’d thought he’d come here to die.

Dothor continued past the outer settlements and further on towards town. Kalepp made some subtle gestures with his right hand and whistled softly. As if watching flame wind its way around and over the older woman he stalked, Kalepp’s eyes became wide, then, thin. A dull frown creased his face, and he stopped to turn around and survey where Dothor had come from.

If he didn’t find this hole by chance and you hold some visibly trace of any consequential interest, he had a purpose to be here, he muttered pensively. But how does that purpose involve you? Or was it where you’ve been that mattered? I must discover this.

With a few muttered Words of Power, anyone who might be looking his way averted their eyes, and he stepped forward. He vanished before his next foot hit solid ground. Just like stepping between rooms, he stepped through a solid stone, cavern wall a quick second later.

He tore off his dark, hooded cloak and irritably cast it aside. It faded into nothing as it fell. The young man sneered and surveyed the darkness pensively. Twelve crystal clusters came to life along the back, distant wall giving the room an unearthly glow, and he strode forward to a raised, rounded lip at the centre of the room.

As he stepped forward into the growing light, only the green eyes remained the same. Kalepp’s pants, boots, and cloak turned brown. A rolling wave fell down inch by inch until they were only weathered, brown robes, and he was Kalepp was no more.

The old man, his age now fully showing, perched on that lip and glared down at the image reflecting on the silver water’s surface below. In the image reflected below, Dothor took a seat in a tavern and leaned forward to speak with a large, wary bar keep.

With a wave of his hand, the image displayed on the water’s surface changed. He shifted from one image to another, from one house to another. He glared at the sight of a fallen, burned homestead as it appeared. Like Dothor’s every step had been painted on, he followed her path over several fields, and he paused at a selected porch.

On a broken bench. He whispered a Searching Spell, then, ruefully shook his head. Looking down at the image set on the water’s surface again—Dothor sitting at a bar speaking with the bar keep once more, he sneered and spat an ancient curse.

Stop snivelling in the corner and come here, he snapped sharply.

Edila righted herself from near the right archway and clasped hands before her. I was meditating, master, she was quick to affirm in a soft, shaky voice.

In the Viewing Chamber, not likely, he grumbled, but it’s of little matter now. Come here and see this. Edila bowed and hurried to the lip’s edge, waiting for her master to explain. He stared quietly at the image for a moment longer before continuing. You want to do more? he asked in an exasperated voice. Edila eagerly nodded. Watch her.

Who is she, master?

She trained Keiritte Alo, the old man noted quietly. I’d thought her leaving Alo before Trus showed up was mere happen-stance. Now, I’m not so sure. I found her striding through Callong when I was there and followed her just long enough to be sure I was right, and I was, he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment and slowly shaking his head. Dri’s visited her recently. I could smell his meddling on her. There’s nothing about her to make her anything more than nothing.

The old man crouched, his brown robes gathering about his knees, and he studied the woman’s face as she looked around, surveying the tavern closely.

She holds no purpose that I can see, he mumbled. Why waste your final moments with a nobody, Dri? Why didn’t I sense him visiting her? Most important, what else did I miss? It seems that I’m infested with your pestering irritations even from beyond the grave.

And we’re sure, master, Edila probed uneasily, that he is dead?

Of course, he is, the old man snapped angrily, Edila bowing her head in shame. I felt his passing as clear as any other’s. Before he died, he had something to do with her. Did he set something in motion? Has he created more ploys to try and slow me down? Is this unknown annoyance the source of my troubles now? It seems that infernal bug Dri still corrupting my plans. I must investigate, he pressed pensively, Edila keeping her eyes trained on the changing image below, her master standing and slowly shaking his head.

What does he hide? And why? The last question was more breathed than asked. Watch her, and find out what danger this variable might hold. Not even she can survive what’s coming to Callong Canyon. He must know this, but he didn’t warn her away to save her life. I sensed no alarm or caution in her step. Again, why visit her? he hissed, pacing a few feet back. "He must know to not waste his dying breaths on pathetic goodbyes. He was smarter than that.

I can sense him in several other places before he died, loose ends no doubt, lingering traces. He paused to close his eyes, struggled frowns and sneers wrinkling an underlying, strained mask. Derak Peak, he finally whispered, crossing arms to tap his lip. He was there too. Why that place? What is so familiar about the name? I cannot put this off. I cannot allow anything he planned to slow me down any longer.

Edila knelt and nodded feverishly. She paid her master’s sullen exit through the opposite wall no heed.

Chapter Four

Castles

Ashlin kicked at some faded, yellow weeds under foot, their dusty clump of roots skipping across the dry earth with them. He sneered and considered the near-lifeless plain around him, dead except for patches of faded green or dark brown earth. The rest of the soil was cracked, near chalk, and when a good wind picked up, small dust devils brewed and blurred the sight. He looked along the fence line to his right until it met the horizon and sighed. Movement caught his eye, and he dropped to one knee, scooping up a small rock and letting it fly. The wiry, weasel-like ganee watched the rock land far from target, emitting a shrill, broken call.

It didn’t even run.

Even you laugh at me, Ashlin rued dryly, sneering some more. Shaking his head, he shrugged. At least I have company. I should be happy for that I suppose.

He stood and dusted off his trousers. The wind played with his light brown cloak and hair. A dark blue hood, complete with minimal shoulder cloth sat over that cloak, hood down, leather quiver strap holding both tight. The bow at his left was gripped lightly. The quiver at his back was full. There was nothing to shoot. Why would anything be otherwise? He considered shooting at the ganee which was still making its mocking call, but arrows cost too much to replace, and if he missed, someone would no doubt show up, see his bad aim, and ride him about it until the day he died.

Maybe even after.

Maybe the reason you don’t have any crops, he murmured, kicking at some more weeds, is that you don’t water them enough. Wild animals my ass, he sighed. Too much drink more like.

There you are, young one.

Ashlin turned quickly to see who’d spoken, bow arm going tense. A frown formed, then relaxed again, and he slowly shook his head.

What would be the action out this far?

Nothing, Master Strea, Ashlin breathed, shrugging his arms wide before looking back around again. Dri showed no open reaction to the title or name. He just smiled politely and settled himself on one of five large boulders resting in a clump behind where Ashlin stood. Ashlin’s light green, cloth pack had been discarded by one, his staff leaning over it. Dri looked at his cane and nodded like a great plan had just worked perfectly. He then stretched his arms wide and took in the plains around them. Smiling appreciatively, he set the cane at his feet and eased himself back on his right arm.

So why are you here then? Dri asked, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly. The hood fell to show a thin head of greying, black hair, and he paused to consider his hand for a time and the touch of his cheek, smiling in appreciation. Both looked dry but were otherwise healthy and full.

Farmer Glec has been having trouble with animals eating his crops, Ashlin offered with a groan, so we’re out to find their dens and clean them out. You’re looking better. I don’t hear a cough, and your colour’s a lot better than it was.

Dri laughed. I feel a lot better than I did before, yes. Thank you. He paused to frown, but he quickly shook whatever it was troubling him aside and smiled anew. You were more excited digging latrines the other day, he noted with a smirk. Ashlin smiled as well, kicking at the dirt again, then, turning, and walking back to the boulders to sit beside the old man.

I wasn’t running around in circles then, he countered dryly, exhaling slowly. The smile reappeared for a moment before fading again. There isn’t anything out here but dirt. I know the grade in these parts. There aren’t any dens here. If animals are getting at his crops, they’re south, not north of town. He shook his head tiredly and looked south. Derak Peak was a smudge in the distance. But Valohn won’t listen to me.

Valohn or the Town Council? Dri asked, cracking his neck and offering Ashlin a wry grin. Ashlin conceded a sigh, Dri slapping