Stealing Sorcery (49 page)

Taelien frowned. “Where is Winterspire? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Far to the north. Your Delaren friend will know the place. I have a home in Willsbrooke, a small town near the base of the mountain. This is not another test, I assure you – it will be easy to find, though the journey may be long.”

“Would it not be easier to simply meet me in Velthryn? I should be headed there after I finish here.”

“By the time you finish your tests, I will have likely come and gone. I cannot tarry away from Winterspire for long.”

Taelien rubbed his head. Was this it? He was certain he had more questions – so many more questions. But the weight of the greatest answer had pushed them beneath the surface of his mind.

“We should go see your friends – we’ve been rude in keeping them waiting so long, and any advantage I give you is rapidly diminishing.”

But..wait..I…

“I suppose you’re right,” he heard himself say, though they were not the words he wished to speak. Erik nodded once, turning to head toward where the other candidates awaited them a short distance down the road.

Taelien found himself paralyzed for several more moments before he finally raised his hand. ‘Wait.”

Erik turned his head. “Hrm?”

“I have a question for a friend. Do you know anything about a woman named Lydia Hastings? Or her mother, perhaps, Maya Hastings? She –”

Erik recoiled as if struck. “Lydia…? You know – of course you would. I have been inattentive for too long.”

Well, that wasn’t vague or anything.

“So, you know her.”

Tarren nodded. “Yes. And you are kind to ask about your friend – but her answers must not come from you. I will speak to her when it is the proper time.”

“Like you did with me?” Taelien folded his arms. “I don’t mean to be rude, Erik, but you seem to have a pattern of avoiding giving people the answers they’re looking for.”

The older man stood up straighter, and for an instant, the light of the forest seemed to swell around him. “Do not presume to judge me, boy. You are right to ask questions, but you do not know me. And your arrogance tries my patience.”

Taelien was not cowed by the display, but he recalled Garrick’s earlier words.
You have a problem, Taelien. A consistent problem. You always want to solve everyone else’s problems for them.

Gritting his teeth, Taelien nodded. “I apologize. And thank you for the answers you have given me.”

Tarren nodded. “Good. I accept your apology, and I will expect better of you in the future. Now, you were asking a question on behalf of Lydia Hastings. Is she within the city of Velthryn now?”

Better.
“To the best of my knowledge, she should be. Ask at the citadel – they should know where to find her.”

An odd expression crossed Tarren’s face. Confusion, perhaps. “She is a paladin, then, or a priestess?”

“A paladin. Of Sytira.”

The grey haired man chuckled, stroking his beard. “Ah, yes. Sytira. Of course she would be.” Shaking his head, Tarren gestured for Taelien to follow, and this time he complied. “Come, let us meet with your friends. It is past time for you to be on your way.”

They found the others just a moment ahead on the road, barely out of sight from the cart.

Velas looked up, smirking. “Gods, that took you long enough, Sal. I was about ready to take a nap.”

“Forgive the delay, miss. Taelien had many pertinent questions for me.”

“Oh? You tell him how to get his sword to work?”

Taelien blinked.
The sword. Of course I should have asked him about the sword.

Also that was probably a euphemism. But resh it, she’s right, I should have asked him about the Sae’kes.

Tarren turned his head toward Taelien. “You have been having some difficulty in wielding the Sae’kes?”

Taelien nodded. “I can only control five of the runes.”

Tarren blinked. “Control? What do you mean?”

Taelien took a step back, drawing the sword and concentrating. One by one, the first five runes ignited, bathing the blade in an azure glow.

“Oh, dear. I do believe you’ve been wielding that incorrectly.”

Taelien sheathed the blade. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not meant to – hrm, this may be difficult to explain. All seven runes should be lit by default. It should require no effort on your part.”

Taelien folded his arms. “I can assure you that has not been the case.”

“That is truly fascinating – when Aendaryn had the weapon, it shined brightly within his grasp. He never spoke of it taxing his strength. In fact, it still glowed even when he put it down.”

The swordsman frowned, redrawing the sword and repeating the process. He noted that Asphodel was watching with undisguised interest – she was the only one of his companions that had not seen him training with the weapon extensively.

Once the runes began to glow, he laid the sword on the dirt – and the instant he released his grip, the runes faded. The distortion field around the blade widened dangerously, the newly-manifested edges annihilating nearby rocks and grass.

“Now,” Erik mumbled, “That is fascinating.”

Taelien retrieved the weapon and sheathed it a second time. “Any theories, at least?”

“No time to formulate a theory, but for a mere hypothesis – the sword does not appear to be working as it did before. Thus, the simplest explanation is that it is damaged.”

“Damaged? How would that be possible?”

Tarren seemed to consider that, scratching at his neck. “An artifact can often be damaged by an equally powerful artifact. It could be that your weapon is leaking the essence that normally powers it – and thus it needs external essence to make it function properly. But I can think of no artifact powerful enough to deal damage to that blade. There is no weapon comparable in the known world.”

Velas quirked an eyebrow. “What about the Heartlance?” After a moment, she added, “Or Cessius? Or the Vae’lien – that should be the Tae’lien’s direct counterpart, yes?”

“Vae’lien’s weapon was never a match for the Sae’kes. It was his skill that made him Aendaryn’s match – or more than his match in the end.”

Taelien’s eyes narrowed. “Is that who –”

Erik shrugged. “I don’t know. I only have my suspicions. But in regards to your sword, I can only say this much – you have earned my curiosity, and I will examine it if you bring it to my home.”

Taelien nodded. “All right. I’ve taken enough of your time. Let’s be on our way.”

Landen breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.” He had unfurled the map on the road, and he pointed to a spot directly adjacent to the first shrine they had decided to visit.

Tarren nodded. “Ah, the shrines. Of course. Yes, I can manage that. You will want to join hands. Do you have all your things?”

After making certain everyone had retrieved the last of their belongings, the four paladins joined hands and formed a circle.

Erik Tarren stepped into the center of the circle, raising his arms to the sky. “Makers of the Sky and Stone, hear my call. Carry these four on your wings to the next marker on their path.”

The world shifted and blurred around Taelien for a disorienting instant – and then his surroundings had changed.

They were still within a forested area, but the chill in the thin air told him that they were at a higher altitude. The cavern nearby was no doubt the first shrine – but that was not the first thing he noticed.

The first thing Taelien noticed was the smell – the smell of vomit carried by the wind. It was a moment later that he saw the gleam of steel on the floor of the cave.

Velas moved first, bringing up her quarterstaff in a defensive stance and spinning around to search for attackers.

Steel leapt from sheathes as the paladins shifted from their inward-facing circle into a back-to-back formation, but they saw no sign of any impending attack.

There was only a voice – a quiet voice coming from within the cave.

“Please…help me.”

The cracking words were punctuated by a hacking cough – and Taelien broke from their formation to rush toward the entrance.

“Taelien, stop!”

Taelien paused, his few seconds of movement having taken him close enough to see the fallen bodies – unmistakably wearing paladin armor – within the cave. One figure remained in a seated position, his back against the wall, holding a hand to his throat, his blonde hair caked with sweat. There was a puddle of vomit at his feet.

Jonathan Sterling,
Taelien recognized. The man continued to cough, his eyes fluttering.

“There’s someone alive in there!” Taelien called back to the group, turning his head back to see the others rapidly approaching.

Velas shook her head. “You need to slow the fuck down right now, Taelien. This has trap written all over it.”

Taelien nodded, stepping back toward the group and falling back into formation. She’s right. That was reckless.
This is probably still part of the test…it has to be.

Sterling turned his head toward them. “Velas – that you? Shit, help me out here.” He broke into another fit of coughing.

Velas reached into her pack. “Eyes open, watch around me for a sec.”

Taelien scanned the area as she instructed, keeping his blade at the ready, but he saw no other sign of attackers. “Sterling, is it clear in there?”

The man nodded. “Poisoned. Fuck, can’t believe I’m…” More coughing.

Taelien glanced back to Velas, finding her retrieving the rune-marked stick from her pouch.

“This might be part of the test, but I’m not taking that risk.”

Taelien nodded. “Agreed.”

Velas cracked the stick in the center and stabbed the broken pieces into the dirt. Taelien hadn’t been with her when Torrent had discussed the activation method, but that method seemed logical.

“Okay,” Velas began, “We can’t count on help getting here any time soon, especially since we just took another teleport – that could have disrupted this thing. I’m going in the cave to talk to Sterling and check his injuries. Landen, get out your bow. Anything suspicious moves, shoot it. Taelien, you cover the cave entrance. Asphodel, you’re Landen’s melee support.”

The candidates moved quickly, with Taelien following behind Velas as she approached Sterling as Landen unfastened his bow from his backpack and began to string it.

“Fucking poison.” Sterling looked pale and his face was covered with sweat. “Coward’s weapon.”

As Velas knelt down by Sterling’s side, Taelien recognized one of the fallen as Eridus, his emaciated body encased in a tomb of mail.

Fuck.

Taelien’s hand tightened into a fist. He turned to watch Velas and Sterling, noting that Velas had strategically put her boot on top Sterling’s fallen scabbard.
She’s not taking any risks. Good.

“What happened?” Velas put her hand on Sterling’s forehead and grimaced.

“Got here just a half hour or so ago. Couple people from platoon one were just leaving when we arrived, cheered us on. Thought we were making great time.” He coughed again, smirking. “Took our drinks from the ‘sacred spring’. Turns out ‘sacred’ takes poison just like anything else. Turns out the others hadn’t quite left, either.”

He raised a hand weakly, pointing to Eridus. “He was trying to treat me when Crimson put an arrow in him. Right at the neck. Fucking never thought we’d actually wish we were wearing gorgets – they’re always such a pain in the ass.”

Eridus. Shit – a water sorcerer might have had a chance to save them. But without him…

Velas nodded. “He was brave.”

“Brave? Doesn’t mean shit when you’re choking on your own blood.” Sterling lowered his head. “You ain’t got a healer with you, do you?”

“I have a medical kit. No sorcery to help, though. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Better with that than not, I guess. But my odds don’t look great – might be better that you go catch the fuckers that did this.”

Velas nodded. “We’ll talk about it, but I’m going to see what I can do for you first. Do you think anyone else might be alive?”

“I…I don’t think so. I’m sorry. I wish I…”

“You did what you could. One more question. How many of them were there?”

“Just two.” Sterling closed his eyes. “Just two of them, and they completely overwhelmed us. Crimson and the Wandering War.”

Velas nodded, looking as if a suspicion had been confirmed in her mind.

Taelien swept the area nearby with another glance. There was a lot of tree cover, but no signs of anyone still lying in wait. Landen and Asphodel were slowly approaching the cave entrance, and Landen now had a bow in hand. His arrows were in a quiver on his right hip. The pennant was resting against a tree nearby.

Crimson did seem suspicious from the start – and Wandering War seemed almost too suspicious. Gods, I really hope this is still a test. Please make it be a test.

A growing feeling of nausea was building in Taelien’s stomach. He raised a hand to rub his head in a feeble effort to stave off the sensation.
Shit, must be teleportation sickness. I didn’t even think about that.