1CHAPTER FOURTEEN – SUMMIT
Hail to the Guardians of the Ways
From Whence Life Does Flow
May they Watch Forever that Which Lies
Enshrined Where All the Deathless Go,"
– Inscribed on the Stone of Galgathir Tor
I don't know how I slept that night, but Dak woke me so early it felt unforgivable. It was still dark. I must've given him a dirty look, because he was quick to explain himself.
"The wizard wants to see you," he said.
"This whole place is filled with wizards," I reminded him. "Which one?"
"The boy with no hat who's always following the little one who's always following you," he clarified. "He's in the tower with the star charts."
"Ah. Gilbert," I forced myself to sit up and grimaced, realizing just how battered my body actually was. I was covered in bruises and scrapes. Every muscle ached, and although Master Hern had the decency to help me with my broken leg, it still hurt to walk.
I managed to find my feet and stumble from the library across the rubble-filled Second Courtyard, the same path I'd walked countless times during my years at Seven Stars. There wasn't much of the school left, and more than a few Apprentices were still wandering its ruins aimlessly, nevermind that they should have been in their dormitories at such an hour. There was scarcely anyone left to punish them anyway.
I wasn't sure how many students had been injured, but two Sixth Years had gotten badly hurt trying to protect the First Years, which was the most admirable and un-wizardly thing I'd ever imagined anyone at Seven Stars doing. I promised to recommend them both to my uncle, and give them plenty of time to decide how closely they wanted to dance with death in the future.
Miraculously, none of the apprentices had been killed, but when I'd finally surrendered to sleep a number of them were still unaccounted for. I hoped they'd run as far away as they could… but it seemed too likely that we would eventually find someone under the rubble.
I dreaded that.
Louis was all right, which mattered most to me, but I'd never be able to forgive myself if we'd lost any of the boys. James had surely known what the risks were when he accepted his mission. The apprentices were innocent bystanders. If we lost any of them, that was our responsibility.
Dak had not set down Kisrel's pysanka. The last thing I clearly remembered doing was giving it to him for safekeeping, and he was taking his duty seriously. "I got us packed like you asked me to," he said. "But you know your uncle ain't gonna be back for days yet."
"I know. I just want to be ready the second he gets here. If I thought I could Haste us to Corith faster, I'd leave right now. We'll do more good arriving with the ship anyway," I admitted. "So what does Gilbert want?"
"Him and Master Hern are trying to have a look at what's going on at that summit. Which I guess is where the real Master Rale is right now, and your uncle. Figured it would interest you," Dak said.
"Oh, I'm definitely interested," I agreed. "Let's go."
Dak and I headed up to Master Rale's tower. When he opened the door, the first thing I saw was that Master Narien was tied to a chair, a piece of cloth gagging him and an elegant chalk circle keeping him well-contained. He glared at me but couldn't speak or move.
"It was necessary," Gilbert said. "He was being irrational."
I almost didn't recognize the boy. He was dressed, not in his robes, but in a flashy red brocade doublet that looked like something Malcit would like, breeches and riding boots, a dagger on his hip and a bottle of wine in his hand. I wasn't surprised. If all discipline and order had disintegrated at Seven Stars, who was going to punish him?
With the world and all the Ways crashing down around us, Gilbert had evidently decided it didn't matter if he graduated or not, and had decided, without waiting for my recommendation, to get ready for the War instead.
"He's always been irrational," I replied.
"You would think that," Master Hern sighed. "But no, not always. Though, presently... with all due respect, Leoval. It's best for everyone this way."
"Yeah, you'd better behave," Dak said to Master Narien, leering at him.
I surveyed the room and noticed that Louis was dozing on Master Rale's couch. Paul and several other senior apprentices were up to their noses in papers, busily working on something. I smelled very strong tea, and the way the air buzzed told me that someone had cast a spell to give the boys more energy. Such magic was typically discouraged by the Masters because of its unpleasant side-effects, but I couldn't deny that we didn't have much time to plan our next move.
"Blaise's Mind Over Matter," I observed, noticing the reagents of tea leaves, peppercorns, and a candle lit at both ends. "You're all going to have terrible headaches when this spell wears off." (59)
"Tonight's the full moon. We only have a few more hours. It was necessary," Paul replied. When he glanced up at me, his right eye twitched.
"So you wanted to see me?" I asked.
Gilbert nodded. "We're looking for a very specific spell."
"Which is why you have these boys tearing up my ledger," I observed, realizing what the huge pile of papers on the table actually was.
"It's the library's ledger," Master Hern corrected.
"Semantics," I snorted. "What do you need?"
"A long-distance scrying spell. The kind that the person you're using it on can't detect. To observe a distant place through water or glass," Gilbert explained.
"Can you be more specific? There are a lot of those," I reminded him. Slipping into "Librarian" form was still very easy for me, despite how long I'd been away from Seven Stars. I automatically reached for a cup of tea on the table in front of me, forgetting that it wasn't mine.
"No! Stop!" Moving very quickly, Paul stopped my hand. The teacup wobbled but did not spill. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't drink that tea," he said.
"I didn't mean to. It was just habit," I paused. "But why not?"
"For our spell to work, we need a bodily fluid. Bryan found that cup on Master Narien's nightstand," Paul explained. "Before the Tower exploded."
One of the other Apprentices briefly looked up at the sound of his name and immediately returned to work. I noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, and realized that the boys had probably been searching through my ledger for hours.
"Oh. Spit reagent. Lovely," I replied. I wasn't even going to ask why the boy had been poking around in the Headmaster's room, or how he'd gotten in. I did mentally add his name to the list of recommendations for my uncle, however. If he didn't want to become a war wizard, maybe this Bryan would be interested in a career as a spy.
Master Hern rolled his eyes. "As it turns out, Bryan here is quite adept at door-opening spells. The things Apprentices waste their time on these days! Evidently they don't have nearly enough work to do for their classes. The particular spell we want has a… certain alliteration to it. It's an "S" name, I'm fairly sure. Might be a "C"?"
"Shamuramat's Superior Scrying," I replied. (60)
The boys all groaned and simultaneously pushed aside the pages of my destroyed ledger. Paul glared at Master Hern, looking as though he'd like to say something rude if he wasn't addressing a Master who might expel him. Louis blinked owlishly from his place on the couch, still on the edge of sleep.
"I told you," Louis yawned, waking up. "I told you we should've just asked her in the first place!"
Master Hern sighed heavily. "And you were right, Louis."
Louis beamed.
"I'll go get the book," I offered. "You're going to need two identical candles, salt, a good mirror or a window and… well, I think it's primarily a Water spell," I paused. "Now, unfortunately with Leviathan, that's…"
"Risky if you were to cast the spell, yes. But you're forgetting that for most of us, Guardians don't appear," Master Hern replied.
"Oh. Right. Ordinary wizardry," I said, before I realized how arrogant that probably sounded. The prejudices of the xiaoshin and my relatives had rubbed off on me more than I wanted to admit.
"It does have its advantages," Master Hern replied.
I went to go get Shamuramat's book from the Restricted Section and pocketed its keys. There was no sense in putting it back when Master Hern was finished with it. It seemed about time for me to re-read it, and maybe put some serious time into studying Ilvari.
After the necessary reagents were prepared, I watched Master Hern and Gilbert cast the spell, committing everything they were doing to memory. Though getting a person's spit or blood would invariably be tricky, there was enormous potential in having such a spell in my arsenal.
The apprentices sat squished together on the couch, all of them yawning and rubbing their eyes, save for Louis who was now on the edge of his seat, and I noticed that he was eyeing my teacup.
"Do you need more tea?" He asked, his motives absolutely transparent.
"No, Louis," I sighed. "And absolutely not! I know you want to follow me everywhere, but you can't cast a spell using anything from me as a reagent. It'll go badly."
Louis frowned, unhappy that I'd figured out his plans. Master Hern cleared his throat and began his incantation.
"That which through a body flows,
Guide our sight where his goes,"
He placed a handful of feathers on the windowsill and they fluttered. Paul sprinkled a little salt, casting the Clearing Circle Gilbert had forgotten. I didn't blame him for skipping that essential step. I forgot to do it most of the time myself.
"In this glass, his eye reveal,
His words and actions, swiftly steal."
The window rippled.
"Across great distance, Wind blows.
All things hidden, Water knows."
Suddenly, the window in front of us was filled with blowing snow. A fire was burning some distance ahead of Master Rale, disguised as Master Narien. A number of strange shaped shadows were gathered around a huge fire.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Paul asked.
"Quiet," Master Hern said. "Now, no one can see us, but if we make any sound, Atticus will hear us. And maybe some of the others too, if they've a nose for magic. Best if they don't realize we're watching." I nodded.
"I thought it'd be a castle," Paul whispered to the boy next to him. "And, you know, a big round table or something? They're all just sitting out there in the snow."
While I understood the boy's confusion, I felt a little differently about the scene we observed. Though meetings at Galgathir Tor were rare, there was something in the cold air that reminded me of the Wells, the Watchtowers, and the Guardians themselves. No one could possibly set foot on that mountain and not feel small and insignificant. A bright, full moon ringed by bluish clouds illuminated the gathering. There were seven stars burned on the ground. It was an old place of tremendous power.
Master Rale passed a dwarven soldier wearing the Red Star of the North on his tabard. "Who're you?" He demanded.
"I'm the Headmaster of Seven Stars. I've been invited," Master Rale said. The apprentices glanced at one another. Though they were all still tired, it was unsettling hearing Master Rale as if he was in the room with us. He was trying to sound like Master Narien, and not doing a very good job of it.
Master Narien twitched in his bonds. The leg of the chair caught a crooked board in the floor, and Master Hern stopped him from flipping himself over. The illusion spell Master Rale wore appeared slightly yellow and fuzzy from his perspective, which we shared, though it was doubtful that anyone else would notice it, even if they were a wizard. The spell they were using was rare enough that I hadn't caught it myself. It was only thanks to Louis that I'd been able to do something at all. Even if that something hadn't been enough, it was still better than having done nothing.
"Hello? Is someone there?" Master Rale wondered, turning around.
Dak scowled and glared at Master Narien again, making certain that he understood his meaning. Master Rale grumbled and continued plodding through the snow. When he returned to the light of the fire, it became apparent that not only kings and queens were in attendance.
The largest of the shadows belonged to a dragon.
The dragon was a massive pearly-white beast riddled with scars. A broken, rusting spear was stuck in the side of its head. The dragon yawned and scratched like a dog, sat back on its haunches, and stared into the flames. It didn't even glance at Master Rale.
"So what are you going to do, Hraesughar?" A familiar voice asked.
I realized I knew the speaker. A Southern woman in a white robe and veil, wearing a bandolier and a distinctive bracelet of wooden beads and sat with her feet on the star closest to Master Rale. She was notably not dressed for the weather, but a circle of smoke around her revealed that she had cast a spell for warmth. Two girls dressed in the same robes, but with ropes of spider silk looped over their shoulders instead of bandoliers, perched on the rocks behind her, resting against their spears.
"Hey!" Dak exclaimed, forgetting that we weren't supposed to speak. "Hey, it's Raz!"
Master Rale spun around, thinking someone was right behind him. Raz also blinked in surprise, perhaps thinking she heard Dak. Fortunately, the dragon speaking drew everyone's attention away from us.
"Stop prattling, I am thinking," The dragon grumbled. As befit such a huge creature, it's voice was huge, deep, and impossible to ignore. "Impatient human. Who are you again?"
"Razalia Nefir Sirsa," Raz replied. "Duly appointed representative of the South."
"Where is the Queen of the South?" The dragon asked.
"We have no Queen currently," Raz paused. "We hope that one will be chosen soon, but this Summit was not called to address our troubles. The North faces a much greater threat."
Master Hern glanced to the right of the dragon. Sitting in his huge shadow were two others I recognized, Guraf Dragonhide, the centaur chief, and Warden Stoneheart, the leader of the Griffons. Keeping warm between them and looking very tiny by comparison was an old Dwarven woman with a bear pelt over her shoulders and beautiful crown made of stag horns. She had a huge axe resting next to her which glowed in the dark, clearly starsilver.
Louis lit up. He turned to me, grinning, and pointed. The old woman could only be Sigrid Bearslayer, his grandmother, the Queen of the North. All I knew about Queen Bearslayer was that she had earned her name because of her prowess in battle. She seemed remarkably comfortable between the centaur and the griffin. All of them were obviously old comrades in arms.
"She's right, Hraesughar," Queen Bearslayer said.
The dragon glanced at her, giving her a very different look than the one he gave Raz. He did not have much respect for the unproven representative of the South, but the Queen of the North clearly meant something to him. I wondered how the two had met.
"Menenan is not only a threat to the North. Rest assured, if he cleaves his way through us, one of you will be next. Of course, we intend to make him pay dearly for every step he takes on our lands, with or without your assistance." She cracked her knuckles. The sound was audible from twenty feet away. Queen Bearkiller's eyes came to rest on Master Rale, or who she guessed was Master Narien.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded. Her eyes narrowed, and Louis almost laughed. He quickly covered his mouth.
I turned to the apprentices and whispered. "I've got a silver piece that says Master Rale gets punched in the teeth by that old lady. Only because she thinks he's you," I told Master Narien. He grunted and glared at me.
The sleep-deprived boys all cackled madly.
Master Rale definitely heard us, though from the looks everyone at the Summit gave him, they must've thought he was going mad. With what he'd done, I thought it would be fair if he felt like he was losing his mind. Still, we didn't want to make the others at the gathering nervous or suspicious. What they were discussing was too important.
"You shall not face Menenan alone, dear Sigrid. He is only walking this earth again because of our failure, and our honor would be tarnished forever if we did not make every effort to strike him down once and for all. The reserves of the Elun Ordas and the Army of the West have reached Bel Kaba and are heading East as we speak."
Master Rale turned to see who had spoken.
A little further away from the dragon sat a pair of thrones, placed directly behind the fifth and sixth stars. One of the thrones was made of beautiful mahogany, elaborately carved and decorated with the heraldry of the East. The man who sat on it was at least as old as Queen Bearslayer, tall and gaunt with tired eyes and a long gray beard. The other throne seemed to be grown of white-barked aspens, their leaves in autumn gold. The woman on the second throne was a light elf, dressed in a gown that seemed to be every possible color of green at once. She looked old as well, which could only mean that she was impossibly ancient.
"Unfortunately, the War has been costly as of late," she said. "I have lost a third of my finest in recent months. Perhaps more. I have little hope for those who have not yet returned from the Watchtower of the North."
"Nevertheless, we remain grateful for whatever you can spare, Queen Elsharra," Queen Bearslayer replied.
The elf nodded regally.
Queen Elsharra? I think I must've squeaked, excited as I was to learn to hear her name. Everyone hissed at me to be quiet, even Louis.
Seeing who was in attendance at the summit, I couldn't blame Master Rale for wanting to switch places with Master Narien. Surely, he hadn't known what was going on… and how could anyone who devoured legends not want to meet a dragon, or someone else who'd been there in the beginning? Queen Elsharra was ancient, the Master of Kisrel and Shamuramat. As Seven Stars' most dedicated historian, I was certain that Master Rale knew exactly who she was. Was that something Master Narien had tempted him with, in order to arrange the switch? A chance to actually meet the people he admired from his adventure stories?
I glanced at Dak. He seemed very focused on watching.
"Ai-yah, that's the truth! If it weren't for the Elun Ordas, the War would be halfway to Sunder by now!" A familiar chuckle caught my attention.
Through the smoke I could see two Tessars, Carline and my uncle on the other side of the fire. They were seated on the ground, barefoot in the snow, blue scarves tied around their heads and their bare swords resting across their knees. The burned star that my uncle's feet rested on sparkled slightly. There was some magic in it, that much was obvious. From Master Rale's distracted perspective, I couldn't get a clear look at the spell, but I suspected it had something to do with compelling everyone at the summit to tell the truth.
The old dragon coughed, and the fire in the pit briefly leapt to meet the moon. The moment everyone's attention returned to Hraesughar, the elf glanced over her shoulder, seeming nervous. A shadow moved behind her throne, and I realized that it was a unicorn.
"Astaril!" I exclaimed.
The dragon heard me. "Astaril?" He echoed
"Astaril?" The elf blinked in surprise.
Everyone looked around nervously. I realized I was mistaken when the unicorn spoke in a soft, feminine voice. "I… I do not sense him, your majesty," she said. "His presence is… highly irregular. If he were near, I would know it."
"Nevertheless, you also heard that name spoken," the elf replied. For a moment, I felt as though she was looking directly at me. "Someone is spying on our meeting."
Stoneheart glanced to Guraf. "You go left, I'll go right. Never fear. We'll hunt them down." Both of them quickly slipped off into the darkness. I was very glad to not be physically lurking on the mountaintop. Being hunted in tandem by a bloodthirsty blind griffin and a centaur with two dozen dragon-fletched arrows that couldn't miss was something I wouldn't wish on anyone.
Master Hern shot me another cold look, making it very clear what he thought of my unnecessary talking. I hadn't explained much of anything to him yet, and it seemed that maybe we were overdue for a serious conversation. He'd helped save all the boys, and he'd been willing to tie up Master Narien. Even if I didn't want to trust him, he was certainly showing me that I should.
The pysanka I'd used to capture my father rattled in my bandolier. Clearly, I wasn't the only one troubled. Not for the first time, I considered what might happen if I let him out. If he was lucid enough to talk to us, my father could probably shed a lot of light on our current situation. Still, that was a risk I couldn't take. There was also a strong likelihood that he'd just kill whoever was in front of him as soon as he was released.
I didn't hear what was said next on the mountaintop. Master Rale muttered something, the Queen of the Elves responded coldly, and the dragon coughed again, making everyone jump out of their skin for the second time.
"Your majesty, I shall assist with the search and put your heart at ease," the unicorn said to her mistress, bounding off into the darkness without a sound.
Master Rale stared at Queen Elsharra for a long while. I didn't blame him. I hadn't thought that she was alive, because although elves were more-or-less immortal, they could be killed… and the light elves did not simply raise their dead the way the dark elves did.
Everyone present at the summit did seem to be quietly sizing up the other emissaries. The old man, the King-Regent of the East, watched Master Rale suspiciously. Like Queen Bearslayer, he clearly knew the Headmaster of Seven Stars. Did he sense there was something wrong?
Queen Elsharra, Raz, and the dragon, the ones who should have noticed Master Rale's disguise didn't seem to take the spell over him as something they needed to be concerned with. None of them spent more than a moment evaluating it.
Shamuramat's powerful illusion was even better than Kisrel's more conventional enchanted necklace. I'd never noticed Master Rale was really Master Narien, and apparently no one at the summit was going to notice that Master Narien was really Master Rale.
"Master Narien, please, take a seat," he said.
"There are no chairs," Master Rale said.
"Show some respect, wizard. There are plenty of rocks," Raz informed him, gesturing to her own spot. "If you wanted a chair, you should've brought your own."
Grumbling some more, Master Rale found himself a slightly less snowy spot, as far from the dragon as he could possibly position himself.
"Should we wait for the others to return?" Raz asked.
"Little point in doing so," the dragon replied. "The centaurs have always allied with the Queen of the North, and those bloodthirsty, pigheaded griffons love any excuse to mob someone. Even something they can't kill."
The way he said that, somehow it didn't sound like he meant Menenan. Was he talking about Leviathan? How much had my uncle told everyone already?
I bit my tongue, and quickly seized a piece of my ledger. I scribbled "The dragon knows?" on it, showed the page to Master Hern, and then jerked my thumb at Master Narien.
Master Hern's response was to simply point to the word "dragon" and remind me that I should've expected as much.
I wondered a little about the wisdom of letting Master Narien watch everything, but I couldn't deny that him being restrained but still within our line of sight was probably the safest place for him. And maybe if he saw that half the world was united against him, he'd reconsider the decisions he'd so far made.
"Concerning Menenan," the King-Regent said, trying to redirect the conversation. "What does the North request of the East?"
The dragon snorted. "Nothing you can provide. There is only ever one method of dealing with that nuisance, as you all well know. And what I want to know is how did he come to be freed again? No one has adequately explained this to me."
"With all due respect, Hraesughar, Menenan is more than a nuisance! He's an abomination!" My uncle said.
The dragon snorted. "The Pact is an abomination! If it crumbles, things will be as they once were. If you were all your own masters, what need would any of us have for the Pact? What is so difficult about the question I asked? Surely someone is responsible? No? I see I am wasting my time here," He rose to his feet and opened his wings, as if he was about to fly off. One of Raz's guards fell over from the wind.
"Both of you, stop it!" Queen Bearslayer glared at both Stoneheart and Hraesughar. The sight of that tiny woman standing between the griffon and dragon gave me even more respect for her. "This is getting us nowhere, and it's nearly dawn!"
Master Rale evidently felt the same. "Fearsome woman," he said.
The King-Regent of the East nodded. "She bested me once, when we were both young, and I was very convinced of my own strength," he said quietly. "An experience I have never forgotten."
"Hraesughar," Queen Bearslayer said. "To you, Menenan may be a mouse, nipping at your tail. But to us... well, it is Ciwaldyr who we think freed him. So we rightly fear him, as we fear you. Many of my people have already been devoured by the Black Scourge. More are losing their lives every moment we waste. Though I would prefer to be fighting alongside them, I am here to humbly request aid from all of you. The Elves and the West are coming to our aid. The South is also coming, but they cannot arrive soon enough. We will be lucky if they join us in time to help bury our dead."
The dragon nodded. "Well spoken as usual, Bearslayer. I still want an explanation though. The Wards I placed upon that necromancer's tomb were not cheaply cast. I am... displeased that they were broken when I was ensured they would be well-guarded."
"Well, we don't know what happened… not yet, anyway. But we do know who led Ciwaldyr to Menenan. A traitorous ranger. We haven't apprehended them yet, but we will. What is the decision of the East?" Queen Bearslayer asked.
The King-Regent hesitated, not that I expected any other reaction. Master Rale, sitting at the foot of his throne, looked up at the old man, who seemed lost in thought.
"It is not that I do not wish to support the North. It is that I think we will be of no use," he admitted finally. "The East has not fought in the War since the days of my grandfather, the first King-Regent. Not one of my generals has ever fought dark elves or wyverns, let alone Menenan himself. We are not prepared."
"The West is prepared. We also have a plan," my uncle said.
"Oh, you Tessars always have a plan," the dragon laughed. "But as you should recall, a mere century ago you assured us all that slaying Menenan and posting a guard around his tomb would hold him forever. Obviously, this was not the case. And here we are, prattling on about this. As if we have no other problems."
He glanced at the gathered.
Everyone looked very solemn. They clearly still thought they were being spied on.
Who knew about Leviathan? Not everyone, it seemed.
"The King of the West has already divulged to me, in detail, what he means to do. He sought my advice concerning matters of magic. I believe he also consulted with you, Master Narien?" Queen Elsharra turned to Master Rale.
It took him a moment to respond. "Ah, yes, yes of course," he replied.
"And what is your opinion?" She pressed.
"I… well, it is very complicated, isn't it?" Master Rale was suddenly nervous. Maybe Master Narien hadn't told him anything? Maybe he'd just made him an offer to trade places for a diplomatic mission that he didn't want to go on himself? If that was the case, Master Rale was going to feel awful when he found out what had happened to Seven Stars in his absence. I couldn't imagine Master Rale intentionally doing anything that might endanger the students of Seven Stars.
"Mm. It might be preferable to simply slay Menenan and return him to his tomb. Same as before. It held for a century. That's the best we've managed so far."
"And why such half measures?" Stoneheart demanded. "If we can finish him off once and for all, why not do it?"
"Why indeed," my uncle turned to Hraesughar
"What are you implying, Cormorant?" the dragon asked.
"Don't play stupid, lizard," My uncle replied. "Spies or no spies, how long do we dance around this? We are running out of starlight!" He stood and pointed his sword at Hraesughar.
"Careful, Tessar! I respect the sanctity of Galgathir Tor, but nothing says I can't devour you once we've left this mountain," the dragon warned.
"Great Stars!" The Queen of the North snapped. "Cormorant Lariolle, if there is more to be said, out with it!"
The dragon wrinkled his nose. He took a step back, clawing the ground. Taking a deep breath, he drew all of the fire from the central pit into his lungs. It was suddenly very dark. For a long moment, there was silence.
"Why did you put out the fire?" Raz asked nervously. "Didn't you light it so that the Guardians could witness this meeting?"
"I did," the dragon replied. "But what now must be said is not for them to hear."
"Oh dear," Raz murmured.
Master Rale wrung his hands. Clearly, he was uncomfortable himself.
"Menenan is a nuisance, as Hraesughar so eloquently put it," my uncle paused. "The dark elves are not without power, but we've successfully, held them off for centuries. The real question is, what do we intend to do about Leviathan?"
The sun began to clear the horizon, and as the light struck the mountaintop, the glowing stars went dark.
"Leviathan?" The King-Regent echoed incredulously. "You mean to fight a Guardian?"
"We may have to slay him," Hraesughar said. "The Pact should not have been made, but it was. And now... its failure will have consequences. Those consequences that will not affect me, of course. I should not even be here," he said gruffly.
Queen Bearkiller reached out and touched the dragon's tail. "Well, nevertheless, we do appreciate you," she said, in the same sort of tone a mother might use to tell her child they'd done a very good job.
"The collapse of the Pact would cripple, if not destroy magic as we know it. For certain the dragons and the fairies may have nothing to fear, if all goes back to the way it once was. But the rest of us?" Queen Elsharra shook her head heavily. "Please tell me. Have any of you heard from the Warrior?"
Master Rale was staring at the ground. There was a stone where the fire had formerly burned, inscribed with words that were so worn they were almost invisible.
Hail to the Guardians of the Ways
From Whence Life Does Flow
May they Watch Forever that Which Lays Enshrined Where All the Deathless Go,"
If the King-Regent or anyone else said anything in response, none of us heard what that was. The sunrise caught our window, destroying the spell and shattering all of the glass at the same time. Master Hern nearly flipped out of his chair, caught by the backlash of his magic. Gilbert steadied him. I glanced at the teacup. The liquid was gone from it, and the cup itself was charred black.
"Was any of that useful to you?" Master Hern wondered.
I nodded. "I did know most of this already. The reason we came here to repair Kisrel's pysanka in the first place was so that we could potentially use it against Leviathan. It sounds like the elves are worried for the same reason the Tessars are. The unicorn Astaril has been on the move. The Warrior's surviving Companions expect her to return. If she does, that's… that's a good thing. She'll deal with Menenan as she always does. But I don't know if we can expect anything more from her. I don't know if she could go against the Guardians."
I didn't say anything about the Sword shattering.
"Do you think Master Rale is with us or against us?" Louis asked.
"Oh, he'd better be with us. If he's not... well, we've more chairs," Gilbert smirked.
"I'm heading over to the library," I said. "Dak and I are going as soon as my uncle gets here, but I need to consult a few books first."
"Take whatever you need," Master Hern said.
Louis followed me to the library and helped me gather everything useful I thought I could carry. He didn't say much as we worked, clearly thinking about everything we'd just witnessed. Pistachio plopped suddenly into my lap. He was colder than usual, and seemed nervous.
"Where's Sinnifer?" I wondered. Pistachio made an agitated whirring noise, but he still couldn't speak in any way I could understand.
"Oh, it's Pistachio! Is he all right?" Louis asked, worried.
I didn't see any blood, or anything that seemed like it might be an injury. "I think he's just scared. Poor thing. He's had a long, probably very scary couple of days. It's okay, little buddy," I said. "You can rest now."
Pistachio licked my hand. Louis gave him a scratch, and he burped, blowing a bubble out of his nose.
"Majestic future Guardian?" Louis smiled.
"Yes. Majestic future Guardian," I repeated.
Once Pistachio seemed comfortable, I went back to what I'd been working on. Everything that was happening... I was just a small part of it. I thought of what Sinnifer had told me about Astaril and the dead Maker that our world was built atop of. I thought of how the Sword had shattered, and how Queen Elsharra had asked, hopefully, if anyone had seen the Warrior.
Dak arrived with tea for us. He peered over my shoulder.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Mm. Well, I had a thought earlier, and now I'm trying to figure something out." There was a map on the table in front of me, and I'd been marking it up with red ink. Someone before me had already put the locations of nine Wells on it, scattered all over the world.
There were no Wells shown in the West, but I had a rough idea of where Kanen and I had found the fire-scarred tree, somewhere along the river between the Paint Pots and High Reaches. I also knew there was a Well by my childhood home in Sunder, and another between Sunder and the Watchtower of the South. The Watchtowers also could be counted as Wells. I added them.
I connected each Well with a straight line, and as I did that, what I was drawing started to look familiar, like something I'd seen before. I wasn't crazy. I was onto something.
I couldn't forget the words I'd seen through Master Rale's eyes, inscribed upon the Signing place of the Great Pact at Galgathir Tor.
"Enshrined Where All the Deathless Go."
Why was everyone always so certain the Warrior would come back?
I remembered what Kisrel had said about resurrecting my father, when he'd thought he was no longer amongst the living. It only mattered where he was, not in what condition. A proper resurrection took time, and it had to be paid for "in advance".
The thing that bothered me even more was that somehow, the Sword was still connected to Assimya. Why had the Guardian of the West given me a piece of the Sword before it was broken, and told me to take it to someone who'd been dead more than a year?
I already knew that time meant very little on the Ways. But what if it didn't run straight at all?
"Hunh," Louis observed. "Looks like a Ward."
"It does, and I don't believe in coincidences. When Dak and I were our way to the Watchtower of the West, we crossed a fairy bridge. I was shown something I think might be important. Before the Guardians ever existed, there was another powerful being here. Sinnifer calls her a Maker. She planted a Garden, and everything it grew made the other Makers jealous and angry. I guess they killed her, but somehow she's still not really dead. Apparently, Astaril can speak to her. Sinnifer thinks that if this Maker is set free… that could destroy magic as we know it. It could kick all the Guardians back into the Ways. It could be worse than breaking the Pact. And this is the really confusing part. The Guardian of the West gave me a piece of the Sword before Dak ever broke it. She wanted me to take it to a grave where someone I know is buried. I think that grave is in the Maker's Garden. It could be a trap, bringing the Sword there. I really don't know what Kefri and Astaril are trying to do. But what if it's necessary?"
"Hazel!" Dak protested. "Those two almost killed you!"
"I know! And believe me, I don't want to deal with either of them! But we broke the Sword, and we are going to need the Warrior. Kisrel said something once that stuck with me. He was talking about bringing my father back from the dead, and he said "you have to pay for a proper resurrection in advance!"
"That doesn't sound like necromancy," Louis considered.
"And I don't think it is. I think if... you need enough Earth to bring a living thing back from the dead… you don't have to steal that Earth. If you have enough time, you can grow it."
"So could you turn me from a black thing into... a green thing?" Dak mused.
"I have no idea," I admitted. "But remember how everyone used to talk about the Garden in the South? The place where all the heroes go when they die? Kefri took Assimya there for a reason. Why? Because she wanted to be reunited with her sisters? No, I think Kefri wanted Assimya to have another chance, and the Garden is a loophole! It's the mother of all loopholes! The Maker can grow another life there, and that life is paid for in advance, so… none of the consequences of necromancy. Think about it! How many times has the Warrior been killed or just vanished? Why does she always come back? Ten, twenty… a hundred years later? I think it's the Sword. It's always been the Sword. The Sword gets her in and out of the Garden."
Dak gave me a look, and then it dawned on him. "The Sword is not a weapon!" He exclaimed.
"It's a key," I said.
The Story Will Conclude in Book Five - Warrior
FOOTNOTES:
59. Mind Over Matter: (Enchantment III+, Source: Blaise) Literally, "burning the candle at both ends" allows the caster to do two things at once. This is essentially the simplest form of Spatial Magic (which should not suggest it is simple, or safe). An unsurprising side-effect is terrible exhaustion. Apprentices are warned against this spell continually, but it still tends to be employed by Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years when exams loom on the horizon.
60. Shamuramat's Superior Scrying: (Enchantment/Divination IV, Restricted) A reflective surface, mirror or window, two identical candles, water. Requires a "kiss" (more often, spit – because that's easier to keep in a bottle). Allows the caster to see through the eyes of the person whose "kiss" she uses. This person cannot see her, but can hear her if she chooses to whisper something to them. Limited to a single night's use under the full moon, the spell ceasing at sunrise.