The D'Karon Apprentice (35 page)

A sizable portion of the entryway had
collapsed. Centered on the left wall was a jagged hole, the stone
around which was pulverized. Fractures were scattered about the
opposite wall where fragments of debris had struck with great
force, and a small section of the high ceiling had collapsed. The
hall was normally draped with priceless banners and carpets, but
they’d all been cleared away, no doubt to either repair the damage
they’d received in the attack or to get them out of the elements
lest they suffer greater damage. Though the lion’s share of the
mess had been cleared away and masons were already cutting stone to
perform repairs, the rosy light of morning still shown through the
narrow fault in the roof. A dusting of snow drifted lazily through
the hole, floating to the floor, where it was quickly swept away by
broom-bearing servants.

The shapeshifter stood in the center of the
room and closed her eyes, opening her mind to a scene that was if
anything
more
devastating. This place was stinking of
D’Karon magic. Such had long been the case. The center of the
apparent explosion had been the personal chamber of General Bagu,
the most loathsome of the D’Karon generals, for decades. It would
be years before his tainted influence could be cleaned from the
astral fabric of this place. But now there was a new layer to the
wretchedness. A fresh spell, flawed but enthusiastically cast by a
mind well suited for such things.

“Guardian Ether. It is my great shame to be
meeting you under these circumstances,” remarked a voice from the
door leading to the throne room.

Ether turned to see the pristine, angular
features of an elf. Even by human standards he would have been a
young man. By elven standards he was practically a child. His hair
was just less than shoulder length and looked like spun gold. The
uniform he wore was an interesting one. It was finely tailored and
dyed all three shades of Alliance blue, but was otherwise neither
ostentatious nor ornate. Emblems on the shoulder and cuff
identified him as a captain, but no medals, sashes, or ribbons were
pinned or sewn in place, and it was layered for warmth. It was the
garb of a respected soldier, but moreover a soldier who had work to
do.

“Captain Croyden Lumineblade,” he said,
bowing before offering a hand and a crisp smile.

Ether glanced at the offered hand but ignored
it.

“I believe we met briefly at the coronation
reception,” Croyden said, lowering his hand but maintaining the
cordial demeanor.

“Yes,” Ether said brusquely. “You were the
queen’s handler that day. And her plaything since, if I understand
correctly.”

His smile became brittle. “Ah. Well, I am
pleased that the impression I had of you at that time remains an
accurate one.”

“I am eternal. My attitude does not change
with time.”

“Evidently.”

“Tell me what happened here.”

“What happened here was nothing short of an
attack on the capital. A message was delivered via the enchanted
booklet provided by Deacon that an invader may have infiltrated the
capital. For many hours guards were on high alert, but no outsiders
were identified until a voice was heard within Bagu’s chamber. The
seal had not been broken, and there is no other way into the
chamber.”

“Portal magic. It should have been plainly
obvious that any portal would open directly into Bagu’s
chamber.”

“A matter that we would have been mindful of
if any but the D’Karon had insight into their spells.”

“Clearly
I
have insight into their
spells.”

He almost imperceptibly gritted his teeth.
“Perhaps the Guardian would be willing, in the future, to take the
time to share this insight, such that we might better defend the
capital. Shall I continue?”

“Yes.”

“We opened the door and immediately a woman
within assaulted the palace guards with magic. She did not appear
to be of sound mind, and demanded silence. We summoned the palace
mystic to defend us, but she was woefully outclassed. At that point
the attacker subdued her and began to demand information of the
mystic before retreating into the chamber. Moments later there was
an explosion, killing several guards and injuring many more. The
attacker and the mystic are still missing.”

“What information was she seeking?”

“The handful of guards who survived the blast
was understandably shaken.”

“Stop making excuses for their infirmities
and answer the question,” Ether said.

Any semblance of respect, or even patience,
slipped from Croyden’s face. “They feel certain that she was
seeking some manner of portal, and there was some talk of the
Chosen, for which she had another name. The adversaries.”

“Mmm…”

“Regardless of claims to the contrary, I
believe we are dealing with a surviving member of the D’Karon.”

“That is because you are a weak-minded fool
who does not understand the plainly obvious.”

“Then explain the nature of this attack, and
the fact it was so successful, if it was not performed by skilled
sorcerers intimately familiar with our defenses?”

Ether waved her hand. “This is not an attack.
And it is certainly not the work of a skilled sorceress. At least
not as skilled as she might be. The D’Karon portal spells always
spilled off energy when closed. This one was miscast. It was
inefficient. And no D’Karon, certainly not a well-trained one,
would ever sully such a spell in such a way. Take me to these
survivors. I need to question them directly.”

Croyden straightened. “No.”

“I was not requesting permission.”

“And that’s just as well, because I am not
granting it. Those men are still recovering. Some may not last the
day. There is nothing you could ask them that I have not already
asked, and I refuse to allow their last memories of this world be
of you and your open contempt for them simply by virtue of their
perceived inferiority. You are a Guardian of the Realm. Anywhere
else your authority would surpass my own. But within this palace,
and when the queen is away, my word is law and my decisions are
final. I shall continue to treat you with the respect owed to your
title. But that is the
only
respect you shall receive, and
it is entirely undeserved.”

“If your respect is to my title then you may
as well abandon it,” Ether said. “Titles are meaningless.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then am I to believe
you would have me treat you as I would an equal?”

“Of course not. I am superior to you and you
will treat me as such.”

“Then why disparage the title?”

“Because my superiority is innate, not
bestowed. Now take me to these survivors, or step aside and I shall
find them myself.”

Croyden widened his stance and folded his
arms. “Ask your questions. If I do not have the answers you seek,
then I will ask the men myself.”

Ether narrowed her eyes. “You are stubborn
and strong willed.”

“Necessary qualities. I run the palace while
the queen runs the kingdom. If not for a strong will, chaos such as
this might well be an everyday occurrence.”

“You do realize that I could easily cast you
aside and question them regardless of your will.”

“Not nearly as easily as you suppose. What
are your questions?”

Ether took a breath. “Describe the appearance
of the spells she cast.”

“Her magic was bathed in violet light and
often took the form of summoned strings of an impossibly strong
black material.”

“How old was this woman?”

“She was human and described as old for a
mother or young for a grandmother. I would place her age at not
more than forty years.”

“Was she accompanied?”

“No, she was alone.”

“What did her staff look like?”

“It was bone white with an indigo gem.”

“Her clothing?”

“Tattered robes of black.”

“Did she speak distinctively?”

“Native Varden. One man said she sounded more
proper than most. There was agreement that her voice and words were
not those of a sane person.”

“… You
have
been thorough.”

“Again, a necessary quality. What precisely
do you hope to learn from these questions?”

“I am not certain, but as you say,
thoroughness is a necessary quality. To that end, silence yourself
for a moment. Half a kingdom away I was able to detect only that
there was indeed some manner of D’Karon workings in this area, and
now immersed in it I can detect its degree, but there may well be
more treachery at work here than you have noticed or I have
detected. We shall put that to rest now.”

As before, she shut her eyes, but rather than
simply taking in her surroundings she allowed her mind to spread,
scrutinizing the mystic residues present. She could feel, in some
measure, each spell both the woman and her captive had cast. The
lingering echoes of the summoned tendrils still seemed to waver
around her. But there was more. It was something distant, to the
north. The sensation was much like this one. Associating a point in
the astral realm with its counterpart in the physical realm was not
always a simple task… but in this case it was a place known all too
well to her.

“I must go,” she said sharply.

The look of resolve and irritation on
Croyden’s face changed to one of reluctant concern. “Is something
wrong?”

“That monster has sullied…” She stopped
herself and eyed Croyden steadily. “I shall return.”

Before he could ask another question, she
shifted to flame and burst out the door. She looped over the castle
and tore through the sky northward. In her mind’s eye, mocking her
like the splash of a vandal’s paint across the face of a masterful
portrait, was a glaring work of D’Karon magic in the center of the
place known as Lain’s End. That woman, that
thing
that
clumsily wielded the weapon of her enemy, had used it to desecrate
the site of the greatest tragedy in the history of this blighted
world. Ether’s fiery visage twisted in vicious anger as she stopped
mere seconds later in the remnants of a mountain range.

For anyone else, Lain’s End would seem the
same inexplicable curiosity it had always been, save for a sizable
gouge in the land not far from the tip of the pointed outcropping
that reached out toward its center. The bottomless pit was still
present, and the mysterious stones that hung and drifted over it
continued their complex dance. Ether had spent too much time here,
too many days staring unblinking at the aftermath of their final
victory and greatest failure against the D’Karon. Black stains of
dark magic hung like cobwebs from the edges of a sequence of
stones. That anyone would sully this solemn place with more D’Karon
workings stung Ether. The fact that this was the place formerly
home to the portal that could have flooded the world with the
D’Karon and their creations was worrying enough. Coming here meant
the woman knew far more than she should about the D’Karon’s plans,
which in turn meant she might have some insight into how to once
again render the otherworldly creatures a threat.

Then her eyes turned to the one patch of
ground that had served as the focus of nearly every moment of her
time here…

Her fists clenched, the flames of her body
surging brilliantly bright, and her mind sizzled with hatred. The
sword,
Lain’s
sword, was missing. That monster had come to
this place and
dared
to disturb the resting place and legacy
of a creature so perfect, a creature who was her sole equal, a
creature whom she
loved…

She felt it stoke the flames of her anger,
and as they seared her mind, she realized something else. Of all
people, she heard the voice of Myranda in her mind. A memory of one
of a dozen lectures the human had given her.

“I know you believe yourself above such
things, Ether,” Myranda had said. “But whether you embrace it or
not, you are a part of this world, a part of its society. The
things we think and feel, you think and feel as well. One day
you’ll understand how deeply emotions can drive us. And you’ll see
that it is the same thing that drives you…”

At the time she’d felt it was inane drivel,
an attempt to drag her down to a level that a mortal mind could
understand. But now…

Ether looked down. At her feet, the flames of
her form had melted the ice into a pool of crystal clear water. Its
surface churned and rippled in the biting wind of the mountains,
but with a thought the shapeshifter turned to wind and willed it to
stillness. The surface settled, and in it was her reflection. She
dropped to the ground and reluctantly assumed her human form,
gazing into the pool as it crystallized inward from the edges.
There was something in her eyes. In them she saw the same pain
she’d seen in the eyes of mortals more times than she cared to
recall. Men and women gathered about the ruins of their homes.
Soldiers standing at the edge of a bloody battlefield. And even in
the eyes of the defiant Croyden Lumineblade when she’d left him in
the castle.

“Damn them… This… this is their pain, not
mine,” she muttered. “This was never meant for me…”

She turned her eyes back to the stone that
had formerly held Lain’s sword. There were a thousand things she
should be doing, but in that moment she knew that she could not
leave without setting what had come to be a memorial to Lain’s
memory back to its proper place. The sword needed to be set back
into the stone. His final act should be honored. Her eyes closed
and she probed the place, but it was awash with the chaotic
energies of the portals. Picking out the location of the sword was
impossible. It would have to be found… if it still remained here at
all.

Shifting to air would be the simplest, but
the churning, rolling pieces of stone were adrift on a stormy sea
of magic. As air, she was frail. In her present impaired state of
mind, it was too dangerous. Fire would be better, intense enough to
overcome the mystic currents, but it would require her to search
this place inch by inch. That would take time and energy. But she
would see it through. This place was her sanctuary, her cathedral.
She would not allow this desecration to stand…