Solfire (Fire Crystal Legacy Book 2)

By Chris Barnhart

The war continues....
Just when the land of Toor is celebrating its victory over Lord Toloban, the sealing of the Gates to the outer world, and the arrest of Triya as a witch and "shadowed one", a poison is seeping into Toor's ground water.
Lord Toloban has not given up on his quest to conquer Toor, His is determined to turn it into a devastated wasteland and its people into the undead Shakran.
Triya and her companions journey into Elcomhara to Solfire Mountain to destroy Toloban once and for all and stop the poison. Elcomhara is the most inhospitable, dark, vile land where northing survives, not even one blade of grass.
Triya and her companions endure overwhelming odds to save their land but they are not prepared for a new enemy.....the White Wolf of Patwilon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Barnhart
• Release date: Dec 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370984619

Book preview

Book Two

SolFire

By

Chris Barnhart

Copyright ©2017 Chris Barnhart

All rights reserved

Published by Chris Barnhart

Lodi, CA

Cover by Chris Barnhart

Maps by Patricia Wilcox & Carol Wallace

For Harriet Wright, whose encouragement and enthusiasm kept me writing on all those dark days. See you on the other side, my friend.

Prologue

Elcomhara

The young acolyte rapped timidly on the door of the thatched-roof and stone cottage. She tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach by taking deep breaths and she wiped sweaty palms on her apron. The night was chilly and the young woman shivered beneath her brown linen dress, not so much from the chill, but what she about to do.

The door opened a crack and one wrinkled brown eye glared out at her and she involuntarily took a quick step back.

Yes, Idaline? the gravelly voice was but a whisper.

It’s time, the acolyte replied. The moon is up.

What color?

Red.

The door slammed in Idaline’s face. It jolted her for a moment and her heart fell. She thought that she would be asked this time. Ever since Elder Mae passed away last spring, the two surviving elders had been reclusive. Something was in the air. The whole oasis felt it. Extra sentries had been posted and the harvested grains had been moved into the underground caverns. The cisterns had been covered and camouflaged. Every woodelf in the oasis went about with long-bows and a quiver of arrows and a sword at the belt. Even the females carried a knife in a boot sheath as they went about their daily tasks.

Idaline waited on the doorstep of the cottage, not sure what to do next, listening to the night sounds as she had been trained to do. If the chirping of the insects stopped, if no owls hooted, then the alarm would be sounded and the whole oasis, three villages and the surrounding farm families would take refuge in the caverns.

Not in Idaline’s lifetime had that ever happened. Just once when her grandmother was a young acolyte, the night sounds stopped and a cloud of vexors flew high across the face of the full moon. They had to stay in the caverns through autumn and winter while sentries patrolled the forests and farms, but none of Lord Toloban’s red-eyed demon creatures ever breached the boundaries of the oasis. The Sister Stone managed to protect them as it had since the Coming.

The door to the cottage creaked open and an elder in gray cloak and hood stepped out. Thin wisps of stringy gray hair framed an aged face with intense dark brown eyes. The bent form barely came to Idaline’s chin.

Gwenda will meet us at the cave entrance, the grizzled old woman snapped. Hurry, we must go.

Us?

The elder stared into the surprised eyes of the young acolyte and smiled.

You have been chosen, Idaline. But make no mistake, child. It could cost you more than your life.

Idaline nodded, trying to keep her excitement under control Does this mean…?

In time, child. You have studied well and proven yourself to be the most accomplished seer of all the acolytes.

Thank you, Elder Zahira, Idaline gushed and nearly tripped over her own feet trying to keep up with Zahira.

The two women made their way out of the village and up a path leading into the hills. For all of the Elder’s years, Idaline struggled to keep up with the brisk pace she set. There was a sense of urgency in every step. Zahira glanced often at the full red moon rising in the east over the mountains.

They walked for a time, climbing higher into the rocky hills. Neither woman spoke. There was tension in the air, not of fear but apprehension of what they were about to do. When a dark hooded figure suddenly stepped out onto the path in front of them, Idaline gasped and nearly knocked Zahira down.

Sisters, the figure greeted them and pushed the cowl from her head. Gwenda was a handsome woman with flecks of gray in her raven hair, tall and lean with dark eyes that held the wisdom of the ages.

Zahira, she greeted her fellow elder with a quick hug. And you’ve brought Idaline. Good. Let’s be on then. We’ve a lot to do this night.

The three approached a narrow cut in the mountain that was barely visible to the naked eye. Gwenda laid her hands on either side of the cut and the stone of each ring she wore on both hands flared a pinprick of bright blue-white light. The two sides of the cut suddenly widened. She let Zahira and Idaline pass before her into the dark. She took a quick look behind her and up into the night sky above. Even that pinprick of light could endanger the oasis and bring about its destruction. Satisfied that all was safe, she entered the cut behind her companions and the walls of the cut narrowed back into place.

The canyon ended at the entrance to a dark cave. Zahira pointed to a pile of torches made of glowmoss and Idaline gathered three of them. She rubbed the moss vigorously until it glowed a soft yellow light then handed one to each of the elders. Gwenda entered the cave first followed by the others.

They walked in silence through the honeycomb of caves, Gwenda stopping to read some ancient runes etched into the rock walls. Some signs led to deadly traps, deep black holes and dead ends. Only the elders knew the safe signs and Idaline knew to memorize each one as they passed. If anything happened to the elders, she would die in these caves, never finding her way out. She was certain that this was her first test.

When they came to the ornate gate, an open grillwork made up of iron leaves, each elder put their glowmoss torches in sconces on either side of the gate. With a nod from Gwenda, Zahira placed her hands on two of the iron leaves. Gwenda then did the same with her hands on two of the lower leaves. Their rings flared blue-white and the iron gates swung open.

The elders retrieved their torches and the three entered the small chamber. Gwenda lit six glowglobes filled with glowmoss and the chamber was filled with soft light.

The chamber was furnished with only a narrow bed and an ornate iron table against the wall. Gwenda and Zahira stood on either side of the bed and Gwenda motioned Idaline to stand at the foot. She could hardly take her eyes off of the figure wrapped in white fir robes lying in the bed.

Gwenda laid her hand on the man’s forehead. He still sleeps the sleep of the dead, she whispered, but there is something. The ring on Gwenda’s finger flared and she smiled broadly.

What is it? Zahira asked, startled. It’s never done that before.

His soul is full of joy, she told them. Toor has been saved and the Gates have been sealed. And, his daughter is alive.

Gwenda grinned.

What? Who is he? Idaline asked.

Child, this is Marataran. The last living wizard.

A wizard? Idaline gasped. We were taught that they had all been destroyed.

Not true, the elder replied. Toloban thought he had wiped them all out when he captured Marataran. He wanted to make an example of this one for his grievous sins against his empire. He cursed this wizard by sending Marataran’s soul into the body of a demon wolf, forever roaming the land, killing and destroying any living thing it found. Then he started to turn Marataran’s body into the living dead of a Shakran. But we got there first.

You mean you left the oasis? the acolyte’s eyes were wide as saucers. How could you do such a thing? You could have put the whole oasis in jeopardy. What if you were taken? Tortured? How could you? And for what? For him?

Calm yourself, child, Zahira said sharply. It was the only way to save Toor.

Toor? That place is just a myth. Toor doesn’t exist or they would have come to save us before Toloban destroyed all of Elcomhara.

Gwenda removed one of her rings and held it out to the girl. Go ahead, Idaline, take it and put it on,

She shied away from the ring, shaking her head. I can’t. I’m not ready. I haven’t passed all the tests.

Put it on, Gwenda’s voice was stern and commanding. Your left hand. Do it.

Reluctantly, she obeyed. This is too dangerous, she protested. Using this magic could bring Toloban’s minions right to us. Elder, I don’t think…"

Gwenda’s glare silenced her. The elder motioned her over to the side of the bed. She grabbed Idaline’s hand and placed it on Martaran’s forehead.

Close your eyes and enter your state of inner awareness.

Who are you?

The voice in her head was sharp but not threatening. She looked to the two elders who only nodded encouragement to continue.

Idaline, she thought back timidly. Acolyte to the Sister Stone.

You are strong. Stronger than Gwenda.

Who are you?

I am Marataran. I am trapped in Toor, but I will be with you soon. You are in grave danger. The Oasis is in danger. Warn your people. He has come back. He’s here.

Who? Who has come back?

Silence! the voice snapped. And listen. I am sending help but they will be slow to come. I fear we will run out of time. You must….

Suddenly, Idaline screamed. No! No! Please!

She tore her hand away from the wizard’s forehead like it was on fire. With tears in her eyes she stared at the two elders.

He’s here, Gwenda.

Toor

Chapter One

The many days of spring rains seemed endless and dark skies covered much of the province of Avedahl. It was as if the land was trying to wash itself clean after the bloodstorms, the invasion of the demon army from the outerworld and the poison of red magic.

Triya pulled her gray cloak tighter around her. She was leading her black mare along the muddy road rather than riding. She still loathed the beasts, but Captain Rolodon had assigned her the mount when she joined his woodelf army last winter. She was bringing up the rear of the troop as it was making its way north from the Woad River on the Avedahl-Geldonon border. They were cleaning up the remnants of demon invaders after the Gates from the outerworld had been sealed. Cut off from their energy source, the bloodstorms sent by Lord Toloban, the demon army sucked what was left of the red magic from the remains of the town of Zoar on the western shores of Lake Chandar. The town was nothing but a deep glowing pit after Raqur, the demons leader, called down a massive bolt of red lighting from the bloodstorm and blew the town apart in a show of his awesome strength.

Now, it was Rolodon’s commission from the Grand Council in Nidion to eradicate what was left of the invaders, the Shakran, the undead outworlders. With nowhere else to go, Triya volunteered to help with the task.

The woodelf regime protested loudly at having an armed female among their ranks, especially one where rumors abounded about her being a shadowed one, a user of the forbidden red magic.

Rolodon ordered that any woodelf refusing to serve with Triya would be sent to Zoar for pit guard duty. They moaned and grumbled but nobody wanted that billet. Not many sent there returned.

Reluctantly, Triya was accepted into the unit. She quickly earned the respect of her fellow soldiers when she perfected the Shakran killing method. Almost impossible to slay, the demons were impervious to pain. Wounding and cutting off limbs didn’t stop their tremendous strength for a heartbeat. The only vulnerable spot was at the nape of their scaly necks, the place where they were connected to the red magic.

It took a team of two, one to engage the Shakran in a fight, the other to move around to the rear undetected, leap onto its back, and plunge sword or knife into the killing spot. After a hundred or more kills, Triya stank of demon reek, her muscles ached to near numbness, her tunic and leather breeches were bloody and in tatters and the closer they got to Zoar, the more her old wounds throbbed.

Still, she was adamant about walking rather than riding, preferring her own two legs to saddle sores. The unit limped into the river town of Tayport just as the pouring rain became an annoying drizzle. They set up camp on the northern outskirts of the town under a copse of pine trees using the spreading boughs for a makeshift shelter.

Pryon, take two men into the town and see what provisions are available, the troop leader ordered. Some rhanawine as well, if you can find it.

And bring a bar wench, too, someone yelled. There was laughter among the woodelves, something that was rare these days.

Triya slumped against the trunk of the tree and watched as a couple of the men started a cook fire and others sat and sharpened arrows, restrung bows, wiped down sword blades and tied feedbags on the horses.

Triya watched the activity until she felt her eyelids grow heavy and sleep began to overtake her. It felt so good to close her eyes and relax her aching body even if it was for just a moment. The scream jolted her awake. Every woodelf in the camp jumped to his feet. The horses snorted and stomped nervously. The scream was distant, coming in the direction of the town. Then there was silence. Even the night sounds were hushed. No one in the camp moved. All ears strained for any sound. There was only the pressing quiet and the pounding of heartbeats.

Demons? someone whispered.

The town is well guarded, the troop commander said. "Be on the alert, everyone. Douse that fire.

When the howl came, it chilled Triya to the bone. She was on her feet, sword and knife in hand.

What was that? a woodelf asked, and then he screamed as a black shadow seemed to sweep him off his feet and dragged him into the forest. There was one short piercing scream and then silence.

Everyone in the center of the camp, Triya yelled. Keep together. Watch the shadows. Bunch closer, swords ready.

Who’s giving the orders here? the commander snapped.

If you can fight demon wolves, Triya snapped back in a harsh whisper, tell us what to do. If not, then keep quiet.

Demon wolves? I’ve never heard of such a thing. He was about to get an education.

They appeared out of the dark, red eyes blazing, curled fangs dripping with blood. The commander fought down the urge to run, his heart pounding in his chest."

What…what do we do? he whispered.

The throat, Triya replied. You get one chance. Up through the throat to the nape of the neck. Miss the exact spot and you’re dead.

The commander swallowed. One of the woodelves started forward. No! Triya hissed. Wait until they attack.

I’m not waiting, he snarled. Kill them.

Don’t, she snapped. They are ten times faster than you. You’d be dead before you took two steps. All of you, raise your swords slowly. Get ready. Remember, through the throat to the neck.

The wolves bared their long, curled fangs and crept closer. The fear was palpable among the woodelves but their respect for Triya caused them to slowly obey.

How…how can we strike in time? one hissed.

We strike together as soon as they pounce, replied Triya. One of us might get lucky and survive.

The wolves were so close that their demon reek stink of rotted meat was overpowering. Swords shook in the hands of the five woodelves. The waiting was tortuous. Suddenly, one of the wolves crouched to leap. The woodelves suddenly forgot training and broke rank. Triya screamed at them but they paid little attention. The wolves pounced and the woodelves screamed as they were torn apart.

Triya crouched low and as one of the wolves leapt toward her she brought her sword up and held on with all her strength. The demon landed on the sword tip, the blade slicing right through its throat to the nape of its neck. The red light in the wolf’s eye suddenly went out and it lay dead at her feet. So too, were the bodies of two of the woodelves.

Off in the far distance another wolf howl cut the night. The ears of the other demon wolves perked up and momentarily forgot the elves. The distant howl was closer. The remaining demon snarled and snapped but remained stationary, listening.

Triya listened too, certain that the howl in the night was all too familiar. She let a smile escape her lips.

I knew you wouldn’t be too far away.

Suddenly, the black wolves turned and ran off into the night. It was several minutes before the remaining woodelves could move.

Sound off, the commander ordered. There was only two responses other than Triya and the second one was very weak.

Triya led the horse into camp followed by the two surviving woodelf soldiers and the commander. One was in bad shape and they carried him on a makeshift litter dragged behind the horse.

Get them to the shaman’s tent, the commander ordered as two soldiers ran up to tend to the wounded. You too, Triya. That gash in your arm needs tending to.

I will, she promised as she immediately headed in the opposite direction toward Rolodan’s tent. He needs to know about those sheep we saw.

They’re just sheep, he shouted after her. They can wait. See to your wounds. He shrugged and shook his head as she just ignored him. She’s so damn odd, that one. He walked away grumbling under his breath.

Rolodan looked up from the maps he was studying with his lieutenant when the flap of his tent was thrown back and Triya stood there, staring, motionless. Suddenly, the lieutenant rushed to her as her knees buckled and she slumped into his arms.

Get her into that chair, Rolodon said. Here, where’s a water skin? Quickly, man. Call the shaman. The lieutenant tossed Rolodon the water bag and ran from the tent.

Rolodon put the skin to Triya’s lip and she drank a sip, sputtering. That wound needs tending.

So I’ve been told, she said, trying to shake the dizziness from her head, sending a spray of water at Rolodon from her short cropped hair. We were attacked by three demon wolves just outside Tayport.

You can make a full report in the morning, Rolodon said. But right now…..

No, you need to hear this, she insisted. These wolves were different. Not like Scratch or the ones that Raqur had in the pit at the Inn of Leaves. These were stronger, fiercer, and they were smaller. Like a normal grey wolf you’d see in the high desert of Chalstone. They didn’t have real long curled fangs like Scratch. They were more like...like, she fought to find the right words. Like they were new.

New?

And that’s not all. We were crossing the South Road and there was a field. A herd of sheep were grazing but they looked sickly. Their coats were grayish and one turned to look at us and its eyes were red.

West of the South Road had already been cleared.

Maybe of Shakran but these wolves are roaming the Forest of The Sun. We also saw a swarm of vexors heading toward Zoar.

Rolodon’s shoulders sagged and rubbed his temples. My troops are spread so thin, Triya, I can’t check everyone’s livestock and every critter in the woods. The vexors will all soon die off from lack of red magic and those sheep you saw are pretty close to Zoar. Maybe they wandered too close to the pit.

Rolodon, these new demon wolves and the vexors, I don’t think they are from the outerworld.

Rolodon looked at her for a long moment, then the new horror suddenly filled his face. What are you saying, Triya?

I think they’re from here. From Toor.

That’s not possible. But he knew it was possible from other reports from his troops. He didn’t want to even think of it but the truth was becoming more and more evident. He hand shook slightly as he raised the water skin once again to Triya’s lips. This war was far from over and he was not sure how to even fight it.

Chapter Two

LeiHi gazed out of the window in the south facing tower of the Castle Omedon. The Matriarch of Mirid was far from her home. A home she was certain that she would never see again. Her health was failing and making the long trek back to Takari Castle in southern Mirid, especially with the Shakran still roaming the forests, was out of the question. Besides, she had a duty here as Grand Elder of the newly reunited Grand Council of Toor.

She lay in bed this rainy morning sipping rhanaberry tea with honey. Her servant Pala hovered over her like a mother hen over a brood of chicks.

You didn’t even touch the soup or the bread, my lady.

Not hungry. LeiHi pushed the silver tray toward Pala.

You have to eat something, my lady, Pala insisted and pushed the tray back. She put her hands on her slim hips and stared down at LeiHi, trying to be stern but couldn’t keep the twinkle from her intense blue eyes.

What is this my lady stuff, Pala? We’ve been friends for decades. You’ve only been my servant for a couple of months. And only because you insisted and I needed to have a friend in this castle.

You were never the Grand Elder before, Pala leaned down and straightened edges of the flowered coverlet.

There has never been a Grand Elder before. It’s always been a High Elder and a High Council. Now this younger generation wants to change everything. Always messing with tradition.

The old High Council was abandoned for so long while everybody was fighting with each other. I guess this was their way of starting fresh. Even this old castle is going through some renovations.

Yes, and the pounding and hammering is giving me headaches.

You can barely hear it from this tower. You’re getting headaches because you’re not eating.

Reluctantly, LeiHi took a spoonful of the soup, a rich fish chowder, and smiled up at Pala. Your old recipe from your inn. How I miss those days. This is excellent. I shall finish the entire bowl as soon as you leave me to get some more firewood for that oversized fireplace. Barely keeps this room warm.

Pala returned the smile. Just eat what you can.

Well, I’ve got to have some strength for the Grand Council session in a couple of weeks.

If you can’t, then your son Taka surely will. Then there’s Triya’s situation.

I know, I know. We must hang on until the trial. She needs to be free to face what’s coming. Any word yet from my grandson? Pala shook her head.

The air in the bedchamber suddenly became tense and quiet. It will be bad, won’t it? Pala whispered.

LeiHi merely nodded and turned to gaze again out the window. He will never give up, Pala. Not as long as he thinks there’s a chance to destroy Toor. Not when he is this close.

But Triya and the Holy Six sealed the Gates.

LeiHi turned her wizened eyes on her friend and they glistened with tears. He has been intensifying in strength for nearly seven hundred years. We’ve been living in a fool’s paradise, Pala. We barely stopped him by closing the Gates. It bought us some precious time, that’s all.

How can he live so long?

Legend has it that long ago Toloban was given the Black Diamond of Patwilon.

I never heard of it.

Much like the bloodstones, it gives immense power and near immortality but it also warps the mind, bends it to its evil will. A fist sized diamond, it has a black heart. Any magic at all increases the heart. That’s why his brother Jared brought one of the fire crystals to Toor and hid it. The diamond consumes the soul of whoever wields its magic.

Gives me the shivers, Pala said, pulling her dark blue shawl tighter around her thin frame. Then he has to find another way here."

LeiHi’s hand holding the teacup and saucer trembled. Pala quickly took it from her and set it on the tray.

Let me rest now, said the elder, closing her eyes and laying her back on the pillows. Wake me if you hear any news of Triya.

I will, my lady. LeiHi. Rest.

There will be little rest, LeiHi thought. Not until Triya is found.

Rolodon’s quill scratched across the crisp parchment. One glowmoss globe on the small desk illuminated his young chiseled features. A lock of blond hair fell into his eyes and he brushed at it in frustration. Wind and rain outside battered the sides of his tent and the parchment almost flew off the desk when the tent flap was pulled open and his aide entered. The young woodelf, no more than a mere boy, shook the rain off his cap and cloak, spattering the parchment and sputtering the glowglobe.

Kenon, must you? Rolodon snapped.

Sorry, sir, the aide said, trying to wipe the water off the desk.

Stop! Rolodon yelled.

Sorry, sir.

I know. What is it?

A runner just came into the camp. A brownelf. Says he’s from Nidion.

There are no brownelves in Nidion, Kenon, Rolodon replied, still scratching away on the parchment.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. But he insists.

Rolodon rubbed his tired eyes. What did he want?

Just to give you this, the aide said, handing Rolodon a sealed scroll. One look at the seal and the woodelf commander was on his feet. He tore open the scroll. It made his head ache and he slumped back on the chair."

Find Triya. I need to see her.

Yes, sir. Where would I find her, sir?

She is supposed to be in the shaman’s tent."

Yes, sir.

When Triya strode into the captain’s tent, Rolodon couldn’t help but smile. She seemed almost back to her old self. Tall, lean, dark hair still cropped short, gray eyes tired but with a fire that burned deeply in her human soul. That scared Rolodon a bit. Everyone had some human blood in them but Triya had nothing but human blood.

Known only to a very select few, Triya had been born in the outerworld of Elcomhara to a warrior that had given her life to save her baby daughter by bringing her through the Gates. Triya was found abandoned in the caverns by Merek, a widowed miner and he raised her as his brownelf daughter. She never knew anything but the fatherly love of Merek and her brother, Mathren, the desert village where she grew up and the brownelves that were her people. The only things that had set her apart was her looks, taller and darker than the fair brownelves, and her ability to outrun even the fastest runners. It was because of this talent that she was able to earn extra money as a runner for her village, giving her a break from her usual trade as a baker. That was until the night of the invasion by Toloban’s demon Shakrans. It changed her life forever.

From baker and runner to reluctant warrior, red magic wielder, savior, outlaw and now a renegade labeled a shadowed one, Triya had little time to come to terms with her humanity and her ancestors. Instead, she took up the sword and buried her emotions by killing demons in Rolodon’s army and staying far from those in Nidion who saw her as a criminal for using the forbidden red magic to save their sorry skins.

Pity, Rolodon thought. She would make a fine mate. He cleared his throat before his thoughts wandered too far in that direction. Come in, Triya. Please sit. How are your wounds healing?

Those that can heal are doing so, she replied and Rolodon nodded knowingly.

I have some rather disturbing news, he told her and handed her the scroll. You read?

I was taught by Merek, yes.

He watched as her eyes scanned the parchment. Her face showed no emotion as she read, then she rolled it back up and handed it back to him.

So this is it then?

You’re to be in Nidion in three weeks. Your trial is to begin at the next full moon. I’m to provide an armed escort …in chains. I’m sorry, Triya, the warrant is straight from my father Benerik on the Grand Council.

It was only a matter of time.

Yes. Look, I’ll give you until morning to ready yourself for the journey. My guards will come for you at first light.

Triya nodded and started for the entrance. Wait, Rolodon said and handed her a second scroll. It’s from Moli.

Triya read the missive from the portly innkeeper at the Inn of Leaves. The purebred woodelf had been one of her companions on the quest for the bloodstones and the sealing of the Gates.

Triya looked up and smiled. I wish I could help, she said and turned toward the tent opening.

Triya, Rolodon stopped her. If you happen not be here at first light,...if my guards can’t seem to find you…

Triya gave him a slight smile and stepped out into the rain. She didn’t see the shadow that separated itself from the back of the tent and melt into the shadows of the night.

Chapter Three

They were both covered in mud. Moli tried to wipe his hands on his rain soaked apron but all that did was make more of a streaked mess.

It’s no use, Triya. It goes too deep. Moli sat back on his knees against the giant Twomolia tree, one of four that formed the famed Inn of Leaves. The giant trees with their almost black bark and iron stiff leaves, were brought from the outerworld when Moli’s woodelf ancestors were fleeing the Jared wars nearly seven hundred years ago.

The tree’s huge leaves could support dozens of men and were wide enough to build small, two room wooden cottages on the older, lower branches. In seven hundred years, the inn became the largest inn in the region with cottage rooms on eight of the levels of each tree. A ninth level was coming along nicely and cottages would be built on them in Moli’s lifetime. Or rather until today."

How many are there? Triya asked.

I’ve counted eleven so far, the innkeeper sighed. Only the south west tree has no rings on its leaves. The southeast tree has two. It’s the two north trees that have the most.

Moli was close to tears. Triya put her hand on his shoulder. What else can we try?

I thought our two bloodstone rings would be enough. Both of us are purebred. I figured that we could kill this fungus with just that. I’ve never in my life seen anything that could affect these trees.

You found fungus down at the roots?

Just this tree here. The others are alright so far except for the blight on the leaves. Tears welled up in his eyes and he balled his hands into fists. I think they’re dying, Triya.

Triya stared at the hole they had dug exposing part of the massive roots. Moli had tried the ancient sacred runes handed down from his ancestors. When that didn’t work, he sent for Triya. Together, as a last-ditch effort, they had tried the red magic in the small chips of bloodstone in their rings. It worked for a time to keep the fungus from spreading, but it lasted for only a day or two.

We need a stronger dose of magic, Triya surmised.

These rings are the last of the magic, said Moli. If we had the other four rings it might be enough."

Don’t count on them, Triya replied. Rolodon is busy sweeping up the last of the Shakran and Giron has all but disappeared. I imagine Kulyk is back in Isic and no one has heard from Azuma.

Moli got up and began to pace. There has to be something we can do. What’s causing this?

Triya had a sudden thought and she shivered with a chill that caused goose bumps to rise on her flesh. She looked at Moli with saddened eyes.

I have an idea but it’s not good news. She related the events of the past few weeks, the attack of the new demon wolves and the sheep that looked sickly and red eyed.

Something is poisoning the water, Moli said. Something that is infused with magic. That’s the only thing that can harm these trees. Magic. Evil magic.

Moli stopped pacing and stared hard at Triya. The sadness in his eyes was replaced with anger and then with panic.

There are underground rivers that run all through Avedahl, he explained. Rivers that run from Mirid south. Rivers that could run under the Malborne Mountains.

Rivers that start in Elcomhara, Triya added and the anxiety was rising in her voice too. We always thought that nothing could get through those mountains, simply because no man could. It looks like Toloban has found a way to drive his evil into our land after all.

What can we do? How do we stop this?

Triya jumped to her feet. We have to seal that gate!

We already sealed them.

Not the ones in the Quell Pass, Genkai’s gate. The One Gate.

The what?

There’s one more gate. The one the dwarfs used seven hundred years ago. It’s in Genkai’s palace in north Mirid. I was kneeling on it when Azuma and I were captured by his guards at the onset of the invasion. How could I have forgotten? It was cold. The blue crystal was so cold, yet Azuma felt nothing. It was just like the disks in the Gates. It has to be a gate, Moli.

Then Toloban can still get into Toor, Moli cried. We have to do something but we don’t have any more magic.

Triya’s heart was pounding. The demon wolves that attacked our camp. They were strong in red magic. Too strong. Too...new.

New?

Smaller, but stronger. Stronger than Scratch and those wolves that Raqur had in the pit in your courtyard.

Moli glanced at the inn’s courtyard and shuddered. He had labored all winter to fill in the pit the demon leader Raqur had dug to torture Triya and the pirate Elyciana. Both had escaped with the help of Scratch, Triya’s demon wolf protector.

Moli closed his eyes against the implications. Magic was seeping into Toor from the outerworld and infecting the very flora and fauna of the land.

We have to find the others, he finally said.

I’ll get word to Rolodon, Triya said. At least I know where to find him.

What about the giant and the gnome?

Rolodon can send a runner into Isic. He has troops that far south in the Forest of the Sun. We heard that Kulyk has set up a healing practice there. Giron can’t go back to Rineglad but I have no idea where he might be.

That just leaves Azuma, said Moli.

And just where does that leave my son? the deep voice boomed, startling Moli and Triya. They had been so intense in the new revelation that they didn’t hear the eight horses and riders as they rode into the courtyard trampling Moli’s newly planted garden.

Taka! Moli exclaimed.

Taka, Azuma’s father, Lord of Southern Mirid and LeiHi’s son, sneered at the two from atop his white steed. He was followed by his guards and lastly, looking for all intents and purposes like he just digested a rotten piece of meat, rode Azuma. Triya’s shock and surprise quickly turned to anger.

You are under arrest, Triya of Chalstone, Taka bellowed, for crimes against the laws of the Grand Council consisting of….

Save your foul breath, Taka, she interrupted bitterly.

I will see you hang, wench, the dwarf lord snapped angrily.

Father, Azuma started, she has not had a trial. Until then…

She will hang, Taka shouted and tossed a scroll down at her feet. The warrant for your arrest. Guards!

Three of Taka’s men dismounted and surrounded Triya. Two held swords at her throat while the third bound her hands then hoisted her up onto his horse and mounted behind her.

She turned to face Azuma. Was this you’re doing?

The pain that crossed Azuma’s face was fleeting as Taka scowled at his son. My grandmother needs you in Nidion, he said quietly.

Triya spat at him, hitting him square in the forehead. You traitorous worm. Azuma turned his horse as did the company of guards and rode out of the courtyard.

I’ll try to find the others, Moli called after Triya. We’ll meet you in Nidion.

Set one foot there innkeeper, and you and the others of the cursed Holy Six will share her fate, Taka spat.

Moli backed up against the Twomolia tree, hiding his bloodstone ring behind his back. The Miridian Lord gave him a look that made the innkeeper want to drop into the hole he had just dug at the roots and disappear.

Taka turned his horse, a satisfied smile on his hawk-like face.

Chapter Four

Triya paced the dungeon cell trying to keep warm. She could hear the constant dripping of water running down the green moldy walls as it puddled beneath the damp, lice infested straw sleeping mat. Frustrated, she sank down on the only dry spot on the floor, next to the cracked and nearly full chamber pot.

The only light was one sputtering glowglobe struggling to survive at the end of the row of cells. It illuminated a stone stairwell leading up to the guard station. Sounds of the two guard’s hushed voices and the rattle of bone tiles of the game they were playing drifted down to meld with the constant snoring of a prisoner in a cell at the other end of the dungeon. Every time he snorted it was like he was trying to swallow his nose and he constantly startled Triya awake. The only sleep she got was when they were fed the meager meal of hard dark bread, moldy cheese and a piece of half rotten fruit.

Triya had lost count of the days she had been in this cell. The ride to Nidion from the Inn of Leaves had taken a fortnight. Taka procured a prisoner’s wagon along the way and it was flanked by guards on horseback. Azuma was nowhere to be found in the company, having disappeared shortly after they left the Inn of Leaves. At least it left her hands and feet free but it banged and jarred every muscle in her body until she was just one huge ache.

Triya spat on the cell floor just thinking about it. Coward. Barbarian. Traitor. Scoundrel. She cursed Azuma but couldn’t stop the tears welling up in her eyes or the ache in her heart. What a fool she had been to trust him, to believe he was her friend, to feel…no! No feelings. Not now, not ever. He was dead to her.

The click of boot heels snapped Triya out of her spit of anger. Keys rattled in the lock of the iron door and the sudden yellow glow of a glowmoss torch caused temporary blindness after the darkness of the cell.

The two guards said nothing as they pulled her roughly to her feet and pushed her along in front