The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) (92 page)

Though he towered above the streets far, far below, he was by no means on the tallest structure in the city. At least a dozen buildings before him climbed much higher, as if they had been built to reach the sun itself.

As Lucius looked up at the furthest reaches of those buildings, he gasped to see, moving majestically around their silver spires, several ships.

They had curved hulls made of wood, just like the vessels Lucius had seen in Turnitia’s harbour, but they were
flying
through the air as though it were water. Their decks bore sails, though Lucius saw they also had masts and canvas stretching horizontally from the sides of their hulls.

He watched one as it flew in front of the great sphere of Kerberos and, again, gasped as it suddenly struck him that the great blue giant of the sky was much smaller. Had it shrunk? Or had it somehow moved further away?

Steadying himself on the polished wooden railing of the balcony, Lucius again focused on the buildings before him.

Some of the towers, he noticed, had great carved crystals the size of his guildhouse, suspended above them with no visible means of support. The crystals were all of different hues, glowing with an inner light he could only ascribe to magic. Every so often, a tiny bolt of energy would shoot out from one crystal to be quickly absorbed by another.

To his right, the structure of the city changed slightly, as towers became less common and gave way to impossibly large buildings, each perhaps the size of the entire Citadel. Next to these colossal buildings, large chimney stacks, themselves nearly reaching the heights of some of the smaller towers, poured long columns of smoke into the air, constantly changing colour, moving from red to purple to a rich blue, and then back again.

There was a terrible scream and a shadow passed over him as a massive form whipped past above. He had a sense of gossamer wings and a long wooden hull but it quickly disappeared out of view behind the building he was standing within.

With a rush of air, the object appeared again, its long hull slicing through the air as cleanly as any blade. Its hull was almost needle-thin, while lace wings fluttered effortlessly to keep the flying boat aloft.

Ahead of its wings, a man in brilliant silver and gold armour, much like those he had seen in the ruins, sat astride the hull and, as he flew past, raised his long lance in salute to Lucius. Then, he was gone, carried higher into the sky by his strange craft.

As he watched the boat, entranced by its flight, Lucius began to focus on what lay beyond it, and suddenly felt weak at the knees.

Beyond the city lay the ocean – but it was calm, with only gentle waves rolling across its surface. However, three immense blocks of stone were being slowly guided through the air, shepherded by flying ships. Though the stone blocks were a brilliant white, Lucius recognised them immediately.

He realised he was watching the construction of the harbour of Turnitia, with its great monoliths protecting it from a raging ocean.

Just what in the name of all that was holy was going on?

It did not – could not – make sense. Was this how Turnitia had once looked? Slowly, it began to dawn on him that he must have triggered some sort of trap in the ruins, some elven magic that had, somehow, transported him out of his own time and back to theirs.

He did not even want to think about the implications of that.

“Magus, your pardon.”

The voice behind him made Lucius whirl round, its deep tones instantly setting his nerves on edge.

He found himself looking at an elf.

“Soluun, it was good of you to come,” Lucius said, but in a voice that was not his own. It was deeper, with far more bass and power. The words had come bidden to his lips but not by his will. Moreover, he knew he was speaking some alien tongue, and yet the words and their intent were known to him.

Lucius, quite without willing it, stepped away from the balcony and into the room beyond. A very large and wide desk lay before him. Shelves contained neat rows of books and there was none of the clutter he had associated with such places before.

The elf before him had appeared from a narrow archway and was dressed in a regal grey gown encrusted with vertical lines of blue gems that changed to sparkle a more golden colour when they caught the light. Such stones were beyond Lucius’ experience as a thief and he marvelled at what their value could possibly be.

“If one of the Magi has concerns, it is only natural we should consult him,” Soluun said.

Studying the elf, Lucius marvelled at the physique of the wonderful creature. It moved with a certainty of purpose that he would not have quite described as graceful – perhaps natural was the correct term, as if every movement and gesture the elf made was in perfect accord with the world and everything in it. Indeed, that every move was necessary for the world to remain as it was.

Extremely tall, the elf seemed quite fragile but Lucius could see, even through the elaborate gown, that powerful muscles lurked below. It took him a moment more to realise that, somehow, he was looking at the elf at eye level.

“I fear my concerns are too little, and too late,” Lucius said. “We are on a course that could destroy us all.”

“It will not come to that,” Soluun said. “The dwarfs may provoke us, that may even be the likely course, but we will remain triumphant.”

“We do not always attain victory. The battle on the Plains of Seazzor saw even a phalanx led by a windlord routed.”

“A loss that was countered the next week by the breaking of the siege at Antrium.”

Lucius sighed. “And so it goes on, they beat us, we beat them, on and on it will go until one of us is foolish enough to do something unthinkable.”

“Would you rather we capitulate and lose everything?”

“I would rather we never started this idiotic feud in the first place. What started as a diplomatic slight has been allowed to grow into outright war–”

“A few minor skirmishes,” Soluun said.

“Into outright war,” Lucius repeated. “This should never have been permitted, and damn the Council for allowing things to progress so far.”

“You forget the dwarfs have denied us further diplomatic contact. The only way forward now is to beat them, and beat them hard, so they are forced to renegotiate for peace.”

“I am sure, somewhere in the darkest reaches of the minds of the Council, that makes sense. However, it also means things will escalate, and the arcane power both we and the dwarfs now have access to is fundamentally without limit.”

“Ours maybe,” said Soluun. “But not the dwarfs. They very much have limits. I have not seen them preparing skyships to sail to another world above us.”

“And that project is almost as foolish as war with the dwarf nation state.” Lucius said, taking a step back to the balcony so he could point to the sphere of Kerberos, hanging in the sky. “We have no idea what that place is or what landing there will do. We have no idea what we might awaken.”

“That is why we go, to explore and discover.”

“There are better ways of doing it,” Lucius hissed. “For millennia our society has grown, at a steady and measured pace, precisely because we were not foolish enough to just rush in. What changed, Soluun?”

For a moment, the other elf was silent. When he spoke, it was in a thoughtful tone.

“I think, perhaps, it was inevitable. The rate of progress increases as we learn more and more.”

“You may be right, Soluun. But it does then beg the question; at what point does our reach exceed our grasp? And if we find that answer it may be worth thinking about the consequences of reaching that point.”

“Surely a question for the future, Magus. What is important right now is that we protect ourselves from the dwarfs. If they cannot hurt us, then our victory is assured.”

“No, Soluun,” Lucius said. “It is no longer a choice between us winning this war or the dwarfs doing so. There is now a third possibility that becomes steadily more inevitable with each passing day.”

“Which is?”

“Total annihilation for both. That one of us unleashes something so powerful, so terrible, it consumes every living thing in this world.”

“We have heard these arguments before, Magus, and the dwarfs just do not have that kind of knowledge. Right now, in our harbour, we are countering the dwarfs’ new mighty weapon. And even if they can create a magical vortex at sea, even if it works, even if it succeeds in creating a massive wave, it will be defeated by the new barriers.”

“You underestimate the dwarfs, just as the Council has always done,” Lucius said. “One day, they will surprise you and launch an attack for which there is no counter. But that is not what truly scares me.”

“And what could possibly frighten a Magus of the elves?”

“What we do, Soluun,” Lucius said. “What we, the elves, might become capable of. If we had ultimate power in our hands, just what would we do with it.”

“Well, that is not for me to say and, with all respect, it is not for you either. That is the very definition of the role the Council plays in our civilisation.”

“I know, Soluun. I know.”

“It troubles us that you have these doubts. You should be proud of your accomplishments, not thinking about retiring.”

“I have played my part, and have no wish to bring closer the end I am beginning to foresee. A quiet life in the Great Forest is what I crave now.”

“Cataloguing wildlife and training the growth of trees?” Soluun said, not without a measure of scorn.

“Well, there will be rather more to it than that.”

“Either way, we will be looking to you to finish your current work before you can depart.”

Lucius took a deep breath and then walked to one of the cabinets that sat between his books. Opening its two doors, he became aware that Soluun had moved up next to him, and was now gazing inside the cabinet.

“Guardian Starlight,” Soluun said under his breath, almost reverently.

Inside, nestled on a tray carved from a single block of ivory, were a dozen marble and gold rods, identical to the one Lucius had found in the ruins.

“The power you have invested in these weapons is almost a holy thing,” Soluun said.

“We abandoned religion aeons ago, and with good reason,” Lucius said sharply. “Would you have us go back to the pagan beliefs practised by the primitive human tribes?”

“I stand corrected, Magus. But your work here has unmatched beauty.”

“I find them repulsive. They are, however, yours, whenever you need them.”

“You have the gratitude of the Council, Magus,” Soluun said. “And our final victory will be ascribed to you. Of course, if Guardian Starlight fails...’

Lucius looked at the elf, an expression of utter dismay crossing his face, completely unbidden.

“Don’t tell me the Council went ahead with the contingency.”

“We have the utmost faith in you, Magus,” Soluun said.

“That is madness,” Lucius said after a pause in which he rattled the dread possibilities through his mind. “Utter madness!”

N
OT WANTING TO
inadvertently set off some mundane trap a clever elf might have left behind, Adrianna had confined her movements only to the sections of the chamber she and Lucius had already walked. After the first half-hour, she had retreated to the stairs leading out of the chamber and sat on the top flight. From there she would be able to see both Lucius’ return, and the coming of any inquisitive guards. God help them.

More than an hour had passed, she was sure, and she drummed the fingers of her right hand upon her knee as she waited. She had always thought that if great harm befell Lucius, she would somehow feel it. After all, they had spent enough time together and she had learned how his presence shifted the flow of magic around her. Here, in elven ruins surrounded by Old Race magic, however, she could not be so sure that any break in their connection would make itself known to her.

She was not worried for Lucius’ safety – she would not allow herself to feel that emotion – but his death and failure in this place would cause her some problems. First, the Guardian Starlight might remain forever beyond her reach, and that was an artefact she desperately wanted to get her hands on.

Just the thought of holding the artefact and plumbing the depths of its mysteries caused a rare feeling of joy to surge through her. She likened it to first learning what a Shadowmage was capable of and seeing her first attempts, clumsy as they were, at casting simple spells.

She expected the arrival of the Guardian Starlight, and the awesome magical power it contained, to mark another great shift in her. Everything that had transpired before would be as nothing compared to what she would attain thereafter.

If
Lucius returned with the artefact, of course.

It had also occurred to her that life in Turnitia might get more difficult without Lucius as well. The Shadowmages formed a trinity with the thieves and beggars, but Adrianna was under no illusion that it was the thieves and, specifically, Lucius that held them all together. There was no way that she could work with that idiot child Grennar and as powerful as the Shadowmages had become, there was much the guild could not do if unsupported by the thieves and beggars.