The Contention (6 page)
Chapter 3
Sacrificing love and Saving Home
Morning, and the tremendous duties it brought with it, came entirely too swiftly for Garret who stirred within his chair as the first rays of sun broke through his study’s window. Linaya remained curled in his lap, her head upon his shoulder, which at any other time would have been very pleasant. But having just awoken, Garret found it a little uncomfortable and more than a bit embarrassing in his current condition. Softly, Garret pulled the hair over Linaya’s shoulder and whispered into her ear that it was time for them to get ready for the day. Linaya began to stir slowly, but Garret, shifting his weight to hide his predicament, seemed rather too impatient to get Linaya out of his lap. At first she was hurt by his impatience, but realized quickly his reason for it. Moving as if to do as Garret asked, Linaya took hold of each arm of the large chair they inhabited and swung her feet off Garret’s lap to the floor. Then rising just enough to bear her own weight, Linaya placed her bottom right in Garret’s lap and gave it a little wiggle just to tease him.
“You know, if you called upon Gorandor right now you could probably launch me across the room,” Linaya laughed as she rose from the chair in earnest this time.
“Very funny,” Garret muttered, his cheeks unusually red.
“Oh my, your majesty, I know I must go visit with the dwarves, but when I return do you think I could have a position upon your staff?” Linaya asked, attempting to sound serious through her giggles. “It appears I could be a nice fit and provide you with a great service,” she continued nearly in tears.
Garret’s face grew hotter and hotter, but fortunately for him, as the blood rushed to redden his face, it allowed other places to return to normal. Garret was now able to get his revenge. Lunging from the chair, Garret snatched up Linaya’s petite form within his muscular arms and flung her upon his desk, pinning her down. Linaya, though caught off guard, giggled in delight feeling assured she was about to be granted the position she had just spoken of. However, Garret had other plans.
Taking both her small wrists in one hand Garret began to tickle her mercilessly, causing her to flail her body this way and that, laughing all the while, tears streaming freely from her eyes. Relentlessly Garret continued the barrage, giving the small woman he was sure he loved an endless assault until the point she could barely breathe because she laughed so hard. Feeling that Linaya could take no more, Garret released her slender wrists and began to rise from the desk in an attempt to release her. But Linaya didn’t want to be released. Throwing her arms around his neck, Linaya dragged Garret back down onto her and hugged him tight for many moments. Finally, Linaya slowly relinquished her grasp, allowing Garret to rise anew. This time fighting back tears of sadness, she spoke shakily.
“I will go prepare to leave at once, though I fear I will not know what to do should I fail,” Linaya said.
“Do just as I have asked,” Garret replied softly. “Wait for me, and I will come to you.”
“Do you promise?” Linaya asked. “Can you promise me you will be OK? Can you promise me we will be together again? Can you promise me that I won’t be burying another man I love this season?” She no longer tried to suppress her tears. “How can you be so sure that all will go as you plan?” Linaya then demanded.
Though Garret knew the reality of the situation, and was aware he could promise no such thing, he replied as honestly as he was able, knowing that Linaya would not accept a promise that was a lie.
“You know I cannot promise, but I am sure we shall see each other again. The gods watch over you and I. Why should they bring us together for such a short time only to see us ripped apart again if we are not to be reunited? I have to believe that what I am doing is right. I have to believe that you will again be in my arms. It is the only thing that gives me the strength to carry on. Though I must fight this battle to save my kingdom, it is for my love of you that I will fight when there is no fight left within me. Gorandor as my witness, no blade or bow nor fire-breathing demon will keep me away from you forever,” Garret barely whispered, tears threatening to escape his own eyes. “We have to win this battle.”
“Very well,” Linaya stated simply as she rose from the desk.
Reaching up to kiss Garret upon the cheek, she changed her mind and instead grabbed the large man’s chin and pulled their mouths together for a long, passionate but saddening kiss. Releasing his lips, Linaya turned and strode out the door without so much as a goodbye.
*****
An hour after sunrise the night-time chill began to burn off Valdadore as Mordal approached the great white walls of the capital city of this realm. What he’d heard was true: Valdadore was an imposing structure built to have every tactical advantage, but that was to keep armies at bay, not single men. Mordal eyed the immense stone walls as he approached, assuming that come nightfall he would have to scale one of them. However, as he neared the city he discovered quite the opposite. People by the hundreds were pouring both into and out of the city gates, and large tents and canopies had been erected recently outside the walls as if everyone prepared for a festival. There appeared to be only a pair of guards at the gate, and as such Mordal could not believe his luck. Valdadore seemed completely unaware of the impending doom already marching towards it. Though he had planned on finding the gates drawn and barred, here they stood open without so much as a question being asked to all that entered. Mordal had thought this portion of his mission would prove difficult, however he was beginning to believe he would be well on his way back home before the week’s end.
Passing through the gate unhindered, Mordal sauntered up the cobbled streets of Valdadore, looking for suitable accommodation and getting a feel for the city. Something was amiss, though he saw no signs of increased patrols or even extra guards upon the walls. He did not see any garrisons of soldiers marching through the city in preparation to leave, and he thanked Abernash for his good fortune. Valdadore lay open to him like a common whore, and as such Mordal planned to carry out his task this very night. But first he needed to plan an exit strategy.
For hours Mordal rode the streets on his black stallion memorizing the layout of the city. The task it seemed would be made even simpler following the completion of his mission for from every entrance into the castle complex a road stretched straight across the city in each direction to the outer wall. It would be a straight run from the castle to the outer gate if he ran into any trouble. If he didn’t, then Mordal decided he might just relax in the city for a few days before returning home to collect his reward. Valdadore was incredibly clean, and even felt welcoming to a man of his nature. Assured all was in order, the assassin grinned. Pulling on the reins, he led his mount back towards the poorest looking tavern he had seen whilst he explored.
*****
As promised Seth allowed Marina to return to her congregation to spread his orders as more followers filtered into and out of the temple throughout the day. Knowing his time was limited, Seth needed to devour every piece of literature in the vault before midday, before he needed to begin preparing his own troops to leave the city. That being so he put Sara, Borrik, and Jonas to work alongside him, searching through the scrolls and tomes left behind from ages past.
“I don’t know what they may have called the method, but look for anything that deals with applying magic to weapons or other inanimate objects. They might call it imbuing or enchanting or something else entirely so pay close attention, but read as quickly as you are able,” Seth told the others before they each went to work.
What Seth did not expect was that barely five minutes into their work, Borrik thrust a tome into his face, his clawed hand covering most of the pages.
“My prince, I believe what you seek is here, or rather not here for that matter,” Borrik stated in his deep, gritty voice.
Taking the tome from Borrik, Seth carefully began at the top of the page, deciphering the ancient handwritten script as best as he was able. By all accounts the book appeared to be a journal of sorts accounting the life and actions of a man named Findalt and had been written by a priest of Ishanya. The further Seth read, the more he realized that Findalt was not a common man but one blessed by the goddess, like himself. The man was a mage of great power, though at some point his power was lost to him. The last lines of the second page Seth read, held the secret that Seth hoped would unlock the means by which he could recreate the method of infusing weapons and armor with magical abilities. They said simply this:
Findalt, having lost the source of his power, fears too that he will forget how to use it properly once restored. I think him gone mad in the absence of his blessing for he shows me a small leather tome, explaining to me that with the last of his power he wrote the secrets of his abilities within the palm-sized pamphlet. However upon swearing to protect it with my life, I open the tome to reveal page after empty page. Ishanya, having forsaken Findalt, has broken both his mind and soul. Though sworn to my duty, I shall protect the small tome of black leather as if it were of immense value, and shall pass on the duty to another when my time is ended. A promise sworn shall be a promise kept.
Seth could not believe his eyes as his mouth dropped open in disbelief. Each of his companions stood silently staring at him, each wearing their own version of a questioning look. It seemed impossible, though again Seth felt Ishanya’s hand playing with his destiny. Reaching behind his shoulder, Seth gave the strap that held his breastplate in place a swift yank disengaging the buckle. Allowing the armor to dangle loosely, Seth slid his hand and arm beneath his armor to the pocket in his trousers. Despite it appearing useless until now, Seth had not yet managed to decide to discard the thing he now extracted from his clothing. Pulling his hand free he held out before him a small leather tome. It was the same leather tome that, as a priest, Borrik had committed murder to collect for him following an order given to the priest by the goddess Ishanya herself. Seth was sure the scripture he had just read held the answer to unlocking what was written upon the apparently blank pages. Flipping the small, worn book open with his finger, Seth showed those in attendance the blank pages within.
“With the last of his power, he wrote the secrets of his abilities,” Seth repeated.
Pulling a small portion of power from the reserves he held from his battle with the insect-like Zoombas, Seth released it into the small book in his palm. Watching with his vision of the gods, Seth witnessed as the power danced along the surface of the book for many long seconds, as if seeking a point of entrance. Then all at once the transformation occurred. The cover rippled as a small golden glyph appeared upon the outermost edge of the pages which themselves began to pulse at first with a dull pink light, slowly growing in intensity and depth as the color changed gradually from pink to red and then again to purple. As the intensity of the purple glow reached its climax, it appeared briefly as if the pages burst into unholy fire before the flames and pulsing light extinguished. Written clearly upon the pages now were both words and symbols, but they were written with threads of magic, hidden from the eyes of everyone over the ages and everyone currently in the room. Everyone but Seth.
As his companions looked on with expressions of either confusion or defeat, Seth flipped through the pages, assuring himself that he would not have to repeat the process for each page. Then without so much as looking up at those around him he gave his instructions.
“Sara, find a room to rest and sleep through the day. You have training tonight. I know none of you can see it, but I have reading and other work to do. Borrik, make sure the men come to the temple here at midday when they have retrieved all that I ordered earlier and I will see them prepared and send them on their way. In the meantime, have everyone rest and eat as best as they are able. I need to be alone.” Seth said leaving no room for questioning or debate.
Without so much as a response, Seth’s companions left him to his own devices, each of them realizing the importance of the discovery he had just made and the tremendous burden upon him for his role in the upcoming battle. Alone, Seth stripped his breastplate off completely and rested it upon the floor. Sitting on the floor as well, Seth leaned against the wall and began to read the small tome. As he did so, his vast mind cataloged each passage, linking them together, making sense of the scribbling of a mage long dead and gone. Several symbols were described and depicted within the book. Each of these represented the pattern created by the life-force within it. Each one of them he could recreate out of pure power; each of them he learned how to attach to an item; each of them a secret worth a million lives.
Seth finished the book in less than an hour and sat soaking in the new knowledge and understanding of how the power worked within each and every thing upon Thurr. Even the wind was born of life power, though so vast was a single breath of wind that the power within it was too subtle to see unless you studied it for vast amounts of time. Seth had not done so, but fortunately his predecessor had. Apparently the mage had been long of life for he had studied many things. In the tome he shared only a small fraction of his knowledge, but it was imparted in such a way as to give the reader a much greater understanding of the power he wielded. Seth needed to test his new insight, and looking to his breastplate beside him, he found his first subject.
Having his first test already securely in his mind, Seth withdrew a small portion of his power and, forcing his will upon it, stretched it into a strand no thicker than a hair. Then carefully Seth began to lay the strand upon his breastplate, slowly and delicately so as to not break the strand itself. Loose in the world the power was like the thread of a spider’s web, infinitely fragile. Breathing too hard could even break the delicate strand. The power too seemed to be sticky in a way, as if it wanted or needed to be contained within something of purpose, for as soon as the strand touched something solid it bound to it immediately. Several times Seth was forced to re-consume the power, recreate the strand and start anew. Finally however, after many attempts, with sweat beading on his forehead from the concentration, Seth laid the last of the strands into position and inspected his work. Comparing the tiny, delicate symbol on the breastplate with the one etched permanently in his brain, Seth was satisfied with his work. Now that the foundation was laid, Seth poured more power into the symbol and watched as its aura expanded to encompass the entire breastplate, wrapping it within a protective layer of magic. His task completed, it was time to test his enchantment, which was called ‘retribution by fire’ by the mage Findalt.