SylverMoon Chronicles: SylverMoon Chronicles, #7

By Confederacy of the Quill

The Bane of Warlocks is faced with a new enemy… A couple must find the strength to live up to an incredible legacy… hearing voices isn't always what it seems… in the damp shadows a group of unlikely friends must right a wrong… a seemingly normal home is anything but…

The international writers cooperative, the Confederacy of the Quill, bring you the latest installment of their annual short story anthology. This series includes story stories in the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, and Adventure. New worlds await you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Quicksylver Publications
• Release date: Feb 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386165415

Book preview

SylverMoon

Chronicles

Volume Seven

Table of Contents

Continuations

Boon & Dragonbane

A Dance of Blade and Woe

In the Wake of Agnes

A Scharr in the Hands is Worth Two in the Field

The Bladed Shaft VII

Preacher & The Pale Devil: Book V

The Blades

The Inner Forge

New Material

Ghost & Demon

After Losing Grace

Contaminus

The Lesser Laws of Time and Space

Better Angels

Chance

Through Doorways

Passage

Devin and the Door

An Incidental Miracle

The Selection

The Patron

Torment

Baker’s Dozen

The Trouble Door

Linear Rotation

In the Living Room

Author Bios

Foreword

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Seven. It seems that everywhere you look, there’s a reference to that number. Be it the Lucky Number Seven, the Seven Wonders of the World, or the 21 leters (7x3) it takes to spell the Confederacy of the Quill, this particular prime number is most certainy etched into our lives.

The light of the SylverMoon has moved through that magic, touching upon all seven points of each imaginative star, working its way through the imagination and winding up on these pages.

Welcome to Volume Seven of the SylverMoon Chronicles. The Four Horsemen await you around the bend of the next page. Happy Reading!

And remember, we would love to hear from you! You can find us on Facebook.

Continuations

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It is impossible to begin any new volume of the SylverMoon Chronicles without first taking a glance at the offerings of the past. We present eight stories woven from tales that have graced our pages in the past... and may yet do so again in the future. Only time will tell.

So here they are, familiar faces going to new places, as they delve even deeper into the fantastic worlds which witnessed their beginnings. That is, if they choose to remain there!

Boon & Dragonbane

Continuation of Hero of Junn-Gladeer (Vol. I),

The Bane of The WarloKs (Vol. II),

In the Wake of Shadows (Vol. III),

Cometh the WarloK King (Vol. IV),

Champion of Destiny (Vol. V), &

Just a Touch of the Dragon (Vol. VI)

(Fantasy Serial)

by Reiter

It’s time like these which make life worth living, Jharsen said, leaning back into the bow of the small boat. The quiet calm-

ARGH! Fiarna cried as her head came up out of the water. Thin, golden chains wrapped around her body kept her from using her legs and seemed to be pulling her down in the deep waters. A pox on your entire clan, you sadistic beast!

It’s a good thing that I have learned how to live in-between the moments of chaos, Jharsen reflected.

Help me! Fiarna demanded as she coughed and spat out lake water.

Help thyself, Jharsen countered. What sort of Guardian will you make if you can’t fend for yourself?

Better than- her head sank beneath the surface of the water for a moment. She came back up, spitting out more water. ... a dead one!

Difficult to argue with that, Jharsen admitted, sitting up in the boat. He looked down on the woman, and though there was plenty of hate in her eyes, he could also see frustration. You’re fighting the water, Fiarna.

Happens... when you... don’t want to drown!

The first effective tool of a protector is a good eye, Jharsen stated. "You won’t find that under your brow because it’s in your head. But allow me to save you the trouble of finding it at this moment. You’re waging a war you cannot possibly win."

I cannot swim while bound! Fiarna shouted.

Your legs are bound, not your arms, Jharsen countered, sitting up to look into the woman’s brown eyes. And you’re fighting the only ally you have at the moment. Again, in the name of expediency, I will allow you this cheat: I’m not referring to me.

Master, please! Fiarna cried before her head sank beneath the surface.

Sighing in disgust, Jharsen reached over the side of the boat and touched two of his fingers to the water. A bit of assistance, old friend, if you please, he said calmly while slowly closing his eyes.

Bubbles rose to the top around his fingers, and as he lifted them from the water, Fiarna was lifted to where she could breathe. She was lifted to the point where the thin golden chain around her legs sparkled in the light of the DoaH Star. A gesture from his free hand and the chains were reduced to a length of ten centimeters as they flew from Fiarna’s body and into Jharsen’s shoulder bag. Fatigued and enraged, the woman clumsily made her way onto the boat. Jharsen said nothing as he made another gesture in the water. A soft, gentle current started pushing the boat to the shore.

I could have rowed, Fiarna panted.

Jharsen noted, You did not seem as if you were of the mindset to have me ask anything of you. It must be the pox befalling my family line.

That was...

What it was, Jharsen said consolingly. "Both of us have spurted darker curses, probably meaning them when they were uttered. Let that time pass like all the others.

But this is going to remain a difficult lesson for you, Fiarna, Jharsen warned, because you are struggling against something you cannot defeat.

Are you saying that I am weak?! she snapped, looking up from the bottom of the boat.

A soft, warm, and genuine smile formed on Jharsen’s face. Hardly. With the exception of my bride, you are perhaps one of the strongest women I’ve ever had the honor to know. The smile receded a bit as he leaned toward the woman. But you’re afraid, and that makes it incredibly troublesome to train you.

I’m confused, Master, Fiarna revealed. "You make it seem like I shouldn’t be afraid of drowning."

That is not what you’re afraid of.

Now I am thoroughly confused.

Jharsen allowed a soft chuckle, coming to a new appreciation for his position. He tried to remember what had bothered him the most about his training; the things that he believed were done simply because it had been done to his trainers. Those lessons he would change, ending the cycle with him and hopefully starting something new, something better. It would begin with answering questions and inviting the student to argue the point in order to either substantiate his position or come to a better resolve.

"My dear Fiarna, you are afraid of losing. And by that, I mean losing again! You’ve lost your home, lost your people, and less than a MooN ago you were teetering on losing your freedom. You don’t want to lose anymore. While that is a healthy approach to most things, when it supersedes your ability to reason, or take in new information, your need to change your approach is past due."

Fiarna’s brown eyes fell back to the bottom of the boat as she considered the words of her benefactor and mentor. When her eyes came back to his, Jharsen could tell she was struggling to keep from crying.

And what ground would you lose in showing that emotion? he asked, his warm voice triggering more emotion to rush through the woman’s heart. Especially in the company of- Jharsen was interrupted as the woman lunged toward him, throwing her arms around him. He closed his eyes, feeling the power of her embrace. His arms weren’t slow to return the gesture; the woman would not come from the embrace with any doubt as to how he felt about her. "I will not and cannot promise you that you will not lose anything else in your life, Fiarna. But recognize that it will take forces in excess of your imagination to move me from your side. Even if you chose to walk a different path than the one calling to Varzanthi, these arms will always hold you close and protect you with all the power that is mine to summon.

"And now I have to live up to these words, Jharsen thought as he took hold of the woman’s shoulders and moved her so that he could look into her eyes. No, it does not get any easier."

I’m sorry I failed you, Fiarna cried.

Foolish woman, do you think the first roar of the lion shakes the trees? Jharsen said, moving his hands to her face. You’ve just learned that you are mighty. Learn to growl before you roar... and to purr before you growl!

Fiarna laughed before making a purring sound in the back of her throat. Jharsen laughed with her, bringing her back into an embrace.

I’m never going to get used to that, am I? Fiarna inquired as the two of them returned to their small encampment.

No, Jharsen said plainly. As often as I have done it, this is my first time watching someone else do it... and no, you don’t get used to it... when it’s done well.

I will admit, this is just another time when it appears I am being shorted, Fiarna shared. You train us separately, feed us separately... it’s a wonder you allow us to travel together.

You are not the same, Jharsen pointed out. Why would you think your teachings would be the same? You have your issues and Varzanthi has hers.

Is that why you spend more time with her?

I do?

I suppose there is more ground to cover with her.

Yes, let us say that, Jharsen nodded.

You do know that I can hear the both of you, Varzanthi stated without opening her eyes. Floating a meter above the ground, she sat on the air as she meditated. With the backs of her hands resting atop her knees, a ball of light was held  in either palm, linked by streams of light to a larger sphere floating centimeters away from her forehead. The light from the highest sphere covered the young woman in a pale white glow which seemed to shine brightest in her long, thick, flowing white hair.

Then you are aware of your early prowess, Jharsen countered. See to it that you improve.

Ever the driving headmaster, eh, Master?

I teach in accordance to my student. The moment either you or Fiarna are unable to maintain the paces I have set, I will revisit my ambitions accordingly. As it stands, I am moved to apologize to you both. You are my very first students and I feel as if I am far less than what you deserve or require.

Varzanthi broke form, lowering her feet to the ground. So, it is just not Fiarna who is afraid of losing.

Fiarna looked up in surprise, but Jharsen was able to veil his surprise, albeit just barely. You could hear us out on the lake?!

Only when you came from where you were training, Varzanthi pointed out. It’s as if you were covered by a blanket and just out of my ears.

Were you trying to listen to the lesson, of did you simply hear it? Jharsen inquired, lifting his eyes to stab into Varzanthi’s. One denotes ability, doesn’t it? What does the other option lead to? Jharsen was relieved to see embarrassment register on Varzanthi’s face as she quickly lowered her eyes from his and looked only at the ground. "Simply because you can do a thing, it doesn’t mean you should do a thing. Let that be an extra lesson for you this DoaH."

And it is, Master Jharsen, Varzanthi said, bowing to the man before she turned to face Fiarna. My apol-

None necessary, Fiarna interjected. Simply allow me a little envy. And may I ask what you were doing while I was consuming lake water?

Reviewing Kaa-Trahs. There are many life-paths which one gifted with MannA can take.

And have you made a decision as to which one will be yours?

Shedding her chagrin, Varzanthi took in a deep breath.

"Oh my, Jharsen thought, keeping his face a thing of stone. Master, is this what you felt when it was my turn to reveal to you what I wished to be?"

In actuality, I am not sure I wish to walk merely one path.

"And now I believe my Master’s curse took hold, the SorceroR concluded. If she makes claim to three paths, that will be the end of it!  I will put a stop to this... slay them both, and bury the bodies. Damn the prophecies!"

More than one?! Fiarna pressed, allowing her eyes to carry over to their instructor. As surprised as she had been to hear Varzanthi’s words, she was in awe that she could find no disagreement in Jharsen’s eyes. Do... uh... do you think... that is wise?

I don’t know, Varzanthi replied, I’ve never done anything like this before. Is it too much to ask for, Master? I am not sure if I am being eager or...?

Overly ambitious? Jharsen offered with a smile as he took to folding his tent. I think we need to keep in mind your first words when your wisdom was questioned. After all, unaware eyes might question the first star in the sky. But when the curtain of night has drawn, that which might have been considered ill-conceived finds its place in the harmony of the realms.

When you speak, Master, Fiarna said, dismissing herself from her initial concerns. "There are times when you make my ears and my head hurt!"

Varzanthi covered her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. She was comforted to see a smile on the Master SorceroR’s face as well.

And your hair’s glowing again, Fiarna noted, making preparations to break camp.

"This was not part of the plan," Jharsen thought, feeling a familiar presence.

Varzanthi grumbled in frustration, moving to fetch her red scarf. So far, it had been the only thing she could effectively wrap around her head which would actually hold her hair in place and out of sight.

I would prefer you not do that, a captivating voice reached the ears of the trio. Both women spun around in surprise as Jharsen kept his attention on sleeping blankets. While Varzanthi gasped, Fiarna whirled around with a drawn short sword and dagger.

"Quick to the blade, Jharsen considered with a smirk. I am reminded of Efam yet again."

A tall, slender woman stood at the edge of the encampment, gazing longingly at Varzanthi as she advanced, ignoring Fiarna and her weapons. Please... allow me to look upon you as you are.

Look all you wish, Varzanthi replied, stepping back, but there is a painful outcome for those who touch these locks.

I have no doubt, the woman replied, continuing to advance. But perhaps I am not to be counted among the many you have experienced.

Considerations vary according to the source, Fiarna interjected, stepping in-between the mysterious stranger and her charge. But it’s clear the young woman behind me would prefer not to be touched... especially by one who has not been invited to do so.

The sea-green eyes of the woman fell to the Guardian and her face became stern. She took in air to speak, but the moment was interrupted by a burst of multi-colored flames overhead. Fiarna and the woman stepped back from one another, both turning to look at Jharsen who stood with a glowing purple powder in one hand, his cane in the other.

Lady Relsentia, good DoaH to you.

Initially angered by the use of sorcery, the woman’s gaze came to focus on Jharsen and she relaxed, a smile slowly spreading across her face.

Emissary Lokbane, Relsentia greeted the man. Forgive my intrusion, but I felt your approach... and you are, according to the agenda you set forth, quite early.

Jharsen made it a point not to acknowledge the looks of surprise on his student’s faces. He could only hope they would hold their emotions, thoughts, and mouths in check until they were afforded a more private setting.

Indeed. For once, my visit to Junn-Gladeer was swift, and nearly without incident. It was a first. Allow me to present you to young Varzanthi Freeman and her Guardian Fiarna Wanderkin.

Taking her lead from the tone in which her mentor spoke, Fiarna put away her weapons but maintained her position.

The Alderonn and Zuloian names assigned to those who are free but possess no family affiliation? No, that cannot be. We can do better than that... and so we shall. Come, I will provide our means of transit.

Lifting her hands away from her sides, Relsentia breathed in deeply. She closed her eyes and blew out toward the ground. When her breathe reached the grass, it flew away from the soil... only it was not dirt that was revealed, but a black stone floor. A circular wave burst from that point, wiping away the grounds of the encampment, replacing them with the stone and mortar of architecture floors, wall, and ceilings. The chamber was huge with the lowest ceiling being twenty meters directly overhead.

By the gods! Fiarna stammered, looking around.

WOW! Varzanthi exclaimed. That certainly wasn’t portal smoke! Master Jharsen, what is this place?

Premature, Jharsen said sharply, glaring at the woman. Early or no, I did not call for you or any of your kind. I was putting the extra time to good use getting to know my students as they became acquainted with themselves and each other.

I would caution you on your chosen tone of voice, Relsentia returned, glaring at the SorceroR. There be no WarloKs here!

Mayhap that is one of the workings of my name, Jharsen returned, stepping closer to the woman. Shall I adopt the title of a different kind of bane?

You wouldn’t dare!

So said the last WarloK, Jharsen retorted. I would have thought my present company possessed a greater degree of intelligence.

Insignificant mortal!

Mortal? Varzanthi and Fiarna repeated.

Arrogant DragoN!

Both young women gasped.

I will have your innards decora-

Ho there! What are these raised voices in my hall? a male voice boomed through the chamber, shaking it and everyone inside. Has someone called for a feast and not informed me?!

A tall, broad man was the owner of the voice, and the bright smile on his chiseled face was the only thing simple about him. He strode up to the group in long, powerful, graceful strides. Despite his massive girth, and standing over two meters tall, this man knew how to move. His hair was thick and long like Varzanthi’s, but it was silver with black streaks. Ho there indeed! Daughter, can these be the two women we were told would be coming?

They are, my master and father, Relsentia stated, bowing toward the large man. Jharsen did-

Rel! he snapped, losing his smile as he frowned at the woman. "When you are referring to this man, you will recognize his position and authority. My apologies, Master Jharsen, my daughter is often... too Draco for her own good."

Eagerness and anticipation are qualities our breeds share, my lord, Jharsen said bowing deeply. Meaning only that there is hope for Terrans and ballast for DragoNs.

The man put his hands to the buckle of his girdle and gave a hearty laugh as he stepped toward Jharsen. He lifted his hand and took hold of the SorceroR’s shoulder. "Gracious as always!

New friends, I am Vioris Trueflame, First Steward of the DragoN City Sh’Kar. You are most welcome here.

Your eyes, Varzanthi marveled, taking a step toward the near-giant of a man. They’re purple!

Indeed they are, Vioris chuckled before looking over at Jharsen. Speak truthfully, Master SorceroR, do you not miss the DoaH when you were so struck with revelation that you lost sight of where you were or what you were doing?

Aye and nay, my lord. I miss the feeling, but not the symptoms.

Vioris’ mighty laugh shook Varzanthi from her awe, and she looked at her teacher before lowering her head.

Perfectly worded, Caster! Vioris laughed until he came to a realization. Ho there, aren’t you a TenStar early?

At least, my lord. That was the point I was discussing with your daughter.

Hrmph, there are reasons why she is marked with her mother’s breed-name, Vioris shared.

Father!

The moment you start carrying yourself in a fashion outside the self-serving Firetongue Clan, I will consider my words as insulting. Until then, I am only reading the signposts you have placed along your own path.

You cannot expect her to change her course if all you do is follow behind her, Varzanthi blurted out. She has no reins on her, sire... you cannot steer her from behind.

The room was silent as Jharsen slowly lifted his hand to cover his mouth. Vioris and Varzanthi held a prolonged stare before the large man nodded in agreement. He opened his mouth, but it was Relsentia who was first heard.

I do not need the charity of a Terran! she snapped. And how dare you presume to instruct my father on how to parent me! She whirled and stormed out of the chamber.

Vioris watched his daughter’s exit, choosing to speak only when the doors to the room had closed behind her. "For what it is worth, I was about to agree with you and offer my child an apology. It would appear another discussion will have to happen first.

But we are distracted, and there are major events awaiting our attention. Come, my friends. Allow me to see you to quarters where Master Jharsen can resume your instruction. I am sure the good SorceroR will alert me when he is ready for our... addition to your rearing.

Jharsen sighed, thinking, "Yes, the moment I find the means to walk back being whisked away to a DragoN City. But then again, what would life be if it were not challenging?"

Varzanthi and Fiarna entered the room ahead of their teacher, each dressed in ceremonial attire, which translated into ensembles for the women that were not overly-burdened with actual cloth. Of the two, the white-haired girl was the more uncomfortable, but she had been given time to adjust to her surroundings and the culture therein. Still, there was a slight frown on her face as they walked. Jharsen cleared her throat and Varzanthi received the sentiment tucked away in the tone. She straightened her face and kept her eyes down.

Jharsen remained behind the two females as they reported to their positions in front of the council tables, but he lifted his head at seeing that the flag had not been put into its place, still held by one of the attendants of the chamber. He decided to step forward and take hold of a shoulder of either student and give a soft massage.

It seems not all members are present, he whispered. Let us hope the situation is not dire.

Relsentia led seven others into the room from the side door, and the council of thirteen took to their seats. Vioris, who toyed with a bronze medallion hanging around his neck, stood up from his throne-like chair positioned between the two large tables.

In that DragoNs can fly, and Terrans must often walk, it speaks to a matter of manners for my kind to be late to a gathering while our Terran guests prove themselves to be most punctual.

I accept full responsibility, Father and First Steward, Relsentia offered, bowing her head. I was detained by the matter for which this council has been convened. I am sure once you hear the facts you will understand why we were delayed.

So be it, Vioris said, giving a signal to the DragoN-At-Arms. Let the standard of our Royal Ascendance have its view of these proceedings.

The signaled individual was an impressive specimen to look upon. Endowed with well-defined musculature, it was not bulky on his form. The flag looked like it should have been cumbersome, but he carried it without any sign of hindrance. He came from behind the seated council and fanfared the flagpole in a glorious manner – made that much more dazzling by the MajiK kept inside the flag – before placing the end of the pole in the stand adhered to the floor. When the pole locked into place, an enchanted wind moved the flag so that the standard could be seen.

Jharsen’s eyes moved to look at the flag. A golden DragoN in flight had been perfectly captured, her elegant white wings catching the wind and bearing her aloft. His eyes narrowed, remembering the figure which was pictured, and his lips pressed together.

"This is no time for doubt, man," he thought.

"There is always time for doubt, another voice answered his and he closed his eyes, remembering what it was like being in the presence of the voice’s source. It was her love and power that kept him from being in awe in the presence of so many DragoNs. Varzanthi could not be in awe of blood that ran in her veins, and Fiarna had been prepared. And in your case, good Emissary, doubt is the fuel to your fire of change."

"It would be a fool’s errand to think that DragoNs will make the same mistakes as the WarloKs," he stressed.

"No, she replied in a definitive tone that, for some reason, reassured the Master SorceroR. They will make mistakes all their own... and you will exploit them just as you did when you took the actions which caused you to be called Lokbane. My choice remains, Emissary."

"Heard and felt, Your Majesty, Jharsen thought, giving a slow blink of his eyes. Now, observe but do not speak. The fuel for this lantern is not infinite, and I need your light a little longer."

"As you command... but do not confuse my cooperation as agreement."

Let the record take this moment into marking, Vioris commanded, lifting his sceptre to exalt the moment. This Terran, called an Emissary by our Fallen Queen, has been sent into the folds of his own to bring to us one of his kind... who is also one of our kind. Vioris’ standard of power slowly lowered to point towards Varzanthi. Child, who becomes woman by way of the Age of Mahn, tell us the name to which you were born?

Varzanthi.

And your family name?

The nostrils on Varzanthi’s face flared for a moment as she readied herself. She took a step forward, something she knew to be out of place, and lifted her head to look directly at Vioris.

"No, there is no time for doubt, Jharsen confirmed with a soft sigh of disgust ... not when I must also panic when my students decide to abandon the path of a perfectly good plan!"

First Steward, Council of DragoNs for this city of Sh’Kar... with all due respect, which is far beyond my means to measure, I will not give my family name.

The members of the council said nothing with their voices, but their traded glances were heavily burdened with discourse.

"I thank you for providing me and mine with shelter and support these past three MooNs. The man you call Emissary, I call Master, and his teachings have opened my eyes... they have opened eyes within me that I did not know I possessed... and surely I have been made into a new creature.

Still, among the things I have learned is that there is a power to those who know the true name to which one is born.

That much is known to all here, child, Vioris returned. But no DragoN here would do you harm.

That is your belief, First Steward, she answered, nodding to the DragoN in Terran form, but it need not be mine... and discretion seems, to me, to be the wiser route to take.

You make an interesting implication, Terran, Relsentia asserted.

I would not think that in the Council of the DragoN we would need to burden ourselves with chasing implications, Varzanthi noted. Is that not more a trait of the Q’uor-Kwyn?

"And there it is, Jharsen thought, moving his eyes to the one member of the council he believed to be the most offended by the statement. She and I will talk later about why she felt she needed to break from the plan and then come back to it."

How dare you?! Relsentia snapped, coming up from her seat.

Ho there, child, Vioris started.

My father can call for my silence, Relsentia snapped, but as a member of this Council I demand to be heard. Is that not my right, Zrekalliun?

"Of course, call on the First Steward’s Nest Brother and revered Shield-Man," Jharsen thought.

The large, gray-haired veteran WarrioR did not flinch or hesitate. He remained in his seat and nodded in agreement. It is your right, Councilwoman, but I would venture further to say that it was not a command in the way you received it. I too am curious as to why this woman wishes to keep her name from us.

She has no family name! Relsentia exclaimed. It is Freeman because she does not know her father and her mother was barely a commoner.

And how is it that you come to know this, Lady Relsentia? Varzanthi inquired, taking another step forward. My Master announced my name to you when we first met, true, but how is it that you know of my history?

You dare to think yourself in a position to interrogate me?!

I dare much! Varzanthi hissed as she glared at Relsentia, a slight growl in her speech. I doubt the recorders have ink and parchment to record them all.

Indeed, Jharsen whispered. It has been an interesting three MooNs.

I should expect such arrogance coming from a thief! Relsentia stated, setting off verbal exchanges among the members of the council; five of them – including Vioris – getting up from their seats.

What?! Daughter, that is a serious charge.

As I stated earlier, I was delayed by brothers and sisters of our kind bringing information to me.

She speaks of the vaults, First Steward, Varzanthi added. I was seen taking materials out of the vaults without notification or permission.

The two females – both in Terran form – locked eyes with one another. Relsentia allowed her MannA-sign to register in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with shock when Varzanthi did not flinch. She withstood staring directly into the power of the DragoN, and she looked as if she was not impressed.

Admittance of a crime does not lessen its severity in this place, child! Vioris boomed.

There was no crime, First Steward, Varzanthi said in a relaxed voice, though her eyes remained on Relsentia. What I took from the city vault, I also placed within your vault. Speak to your Castellan to verify if you wish.

He need not do that, Zrekalliun Bonecleave asserted. That act I witnessed... and I further testify that I am curious as to why.

It was part of the plan, honored Shield-Man, Fiarna offered, bowing to the veteran. My Mentor and my Mistress feel there is a traitor about. Fiarna slowly turned her head, locking her eyes on Relsentia. And she needed to be given what she thought she needed to engage in her plans.

Excuse me, Jharsen said, walking around his students. "As this gathering does not engage in the foolishness of implications, I will speak more clearly.

"There is a belief you have taken as fact: that your Queen perished because in her last birthing, the fifth of five eggs was malformed and would not pass. That is not the case.

Queen DragoN Nyldenkara was many things, he proclaimed, "gracious being among the least, loving among the greatest. But she was also fearful... quite afraid, in fact, that her people had lost their way. The place of Bridgestone is losing its grip in the MannA-Stream, and the creature that bears the same name as that sacred place has not been heard from or seen in three Ages. She blamed the Q’uor-Kwyn and the DragoN both for this continuous degradation, and I have come to agree with her.

"Nyldenkara came to me when she heard of my encounter with the WarloKs, and we were in private council for nearly a Tide before she challenged me with a quest. In the sacred soil that is the wonder of the DragoN, a dark seed has been planted and taken root. It chokes everything it touches, and as the standard of the DragoN is challenged, so are the other Strides of Life.

Your Queen gave her life in the way she did knowing what would become of her blood and power. She did this because only one who has been welcomed to a DragoN City can walk about freely within its walls and access its points of knowledge and wisdom. You have welcomed me, and I have availed myself of your tomes and caches.

Jharsen could feel the eyes of his students upon him and he was amazed that they were keeping their silence as he enacted the actual plan, not the one he had shared with them. Yes, there was need for a major discussion in the near future, provided they were present when that came future came to be.

Relsentia, you do not have many options, Jharsen noted, turning to face her, but among them is surrender.

Here is another! Relsentia’s hand went to her hip and she turned toward her father, thrusting her hand forward. The end of her whip glimmered in the light of the chamber but the forged metal was kept from Vioris’ neck as the large DragoN caught the whip.

Fool of a child! he growled. You think me easy prey?!

No, Father, I do not, Relsentia returned in a low growl. I just needed to occupy your free hand. Attack!

The councilmembers closest to Vioris turned toward the First Steward, short swords suddenly appearing in all four of their hands, and they lunged toward him.

Lokbane! Vioris shouted. A burst of light exploded from the center of the bronze medallion he wore, reaching his attackers. The brightness of the light increased, becoming a flash. When the light diminished, Vioris looked down at himself only to find that he was without the first blemish. To his left and right, however, the council members fell to their knees, amazed that they had been stabbed in the middle and the kidney; the very targets they had in mind when they had attacked Vioris.

Feeling the relief of still being alive, Vioris was toppled when Relsentia’s diving tackle delivered a telling blow.

Hmmm, six to five, Jharsen estimated. His eyes narrowed, hearing horns blowing throughout the castle and beyond. Seems there are many plans in the works here. This is a perfect time to make an exit. Come, students!

Varzanthi looked toward the council tables, seeing Zrekalliun swinging his axe through several swords set against him.

Run, girl! he said, looking at Varzanthi. She gasped at the sight of his eyes that no longer held their Terran form. "Soon there will be little room for you in this chamber! Come villains! It has been said you have lost your way. Allow me to be your guide!

Guard left, Vioris! he shouted, and Varzanthi turned to see a stunned Vioris use his sceptre to catch the end of his daughter’s whip. The sceptre flashed to life in a green fire, sending its power along the whip which was dropped before the energy could reach its wielder.

Mistress, we are leaving! Fiarna shouted, taking hold of Varzanthi’s arm and pulling her out of the room.

Here, put these on, Jharsen said after reaching into his shoulder bag and producing two simple leather headbands with sunstone settings. ... and leave them on, even when it starts to hurt. Jharsen did not look back when he felt Fiarna take the headbands. No matter what presses you, if your life is not at the point of the blade, say nothing. Now, let us demonstrate how fleet of foot Terrans can b-

We are abandoning Vioris?! Varzanthi cried.

His Shield-Man told us to run, Jharsen quickly countered. Need I remind you of the architecture of this city and why every single room is so very large?! Zrekalliun is about to change to his First DragoN Form, because at fifteen meters in length he can deliver the most damage to his opponents.

And if they kill him before he can change? Varzanthi pressed.

He’s already started, Fiarna noted. Zrekalliun is a WarrioR Elder. Once he triggered his MajiK, only he can stop his transformation. That and he will be healed of his wounds once the process is complete.

"Well, it would appear that someone made the most of their reading assignment, Jharsen remarked as he turned down a slender corridor. He did not need to look; he could feel Varzanthi staring a hole into the back of his head. Looking in all directions as he ran, the SorceroR reached into his shoulder bag again. This time he produced a small wood-carved figurine. It was that of a small bird. After a moment of contemplation he whispered, The west side,"