Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

After taking another stone in hand, Laedron cast the spell and maintained it until the onyx had been depleted and the ruby shone bright and vibrant. “It’s never looked like that.”

“No?”

“Since I first saw it, the stone seemed lackluster. Pretty, but dull.”

“Your teacher had likely gone quite some time since recharging it.”

“Would she have?”

“Ah, perhaps I spoke too soon. You said that she lived within a mortal city?”

Laedron nodded, replacing the scepter at his hip.

“One can draw the essence from just about any living thing. Perhaps she pulled from the vegetation nearby-saplings, bushes, and other plants, or maybe even some small animals.”

Laedron thought back to the first time he’d seen Ismerelda’s house in Westmarch. The grass had grown like islands in a sea of mud, and a few dead bushes fronted the place. There had been holes where trees had obviously once stood. “How do you judge the amount of essence something has? Is there any way of knowing with certainty?”

“Difficult to say, and many have theories. Some say that the number of days left in a life determine how powerful the essence is. Whereas a newborn would possess a powerful essence, an old man would have the least. I have my doubts, for how could you ever prove it? It’s not as if the number of days remaining in one’s life is clearly stamped upon the forehead.”

“What do you think?”

“The longevity, or perhaps the complexity of the essence, seems to be the most important. For example, one can garner little essence from a sapling, but from an ancient pine, one requires special implements and specific spells to extract the power, and great that power is. If a man would give, say, the equivalent of fifty years of essence, the ancient trees could give off a thousand years or more.” Tavin glanced at the glimmering jewel in the scepter. “Oh, I nearly forgot. We must seal in the energy, for it will lose its charge rapidly if we do not. Gemstones cannot retain essence as readily as flesh unless they are especially crafted for the purpose. Those black onyxes that you carry are prime examples of well-made soulstones.”

Laedron grasped the leather pouch and felt his stomach churn. Only the best for the Drakkars.

Tavin snapped his fingers. “No daydreaming. Repeat these words, and the jewel shall retain the essence.”

Laedron listened closely and did as he was told. Though the light from the ruby dulled somewhat, the stone still glowed. “It reminds me of the ring Andolis wore.”

“Andolis?”

“One of the Zyvdredi masters in Azura. He caused the death of the Grand Vicar, then stole his essence and fused it within a ring of black onyx. We retrieved the ring when we killed him, and now, you’ve told me that there’s no way to free him, no way to bring him back to life.”

“And you said his name was Andolis?”

“Yes, do you know of him?”

“No, but it doesn’t sound like a Zyvdredi name. Could it have been an alias, perhaps?”

Looking at the ceiling, Laedron tried to recall the events in Azura. Finally, he said, “Yes, it was. He assumed the identity of a priest named Andolis Drakkar, whom he probably murdered somewhere in eastern Lasoron. The only name we found was Kivesh , a name tattooed on the neck of his-”

“Kivesh?” Tavin’s eyes widened with apparent shock. “Are you certain about that?”

“Yes, why?”

“Does anyone else know that you killed him?”

“It’s practically common knowledge throughout the eastern world. Why?”

“That’s a serious problem for you.” Tavin patted Laedron on the shoulder. “The Kiveshes are well-regarded members of the Zyvdredi royal family. They may come looking for you if they have the resources to spare.”

Wonderful. Now, I shall have Zyvdredi assassins chasing me to the ends of the earth. “How likely are they to come looking?”

“Truly difficult to say, and they may never come. If this Andolis was that far outside of Zyvdredi territory, and trying to live in mortal society, no less, he could have been exiled. On the same note, he could have been part of a much larger plan.”

“If I had to guess, I would say he was part of a bigger plot. He wasn’t acting alone. In fact, he seemed to have an army of sorcerers under his charge.”

“Were they all defeated?”

“Most, if not all.”

“It could take them quite some time to recover from such a blow. Still, I would keep a close eye on my back if I were you.”

“At least I know now.”

“Indeed. Shall we return to your companions? Or did you have any other mistakes to divulge?”

He had to add salt to the wound, didn’t he? “No, we should go back. When do I meet the Far’rah?”

“Tonight, most likely. I will arrange it.” Tavin gestured at the hallway.

Laedron walked in behind Tavin, and Marac and Brice appeared to be taking stock of their supplies.

Marac stood, then said, “We thought you’d never get back.”

Tavin seemed to be averting his gaze from the supplies when he crossed the room, and he nearly tripped over his own belongings.

Laedron asked, “Are you well?”

“Forgive me. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen anything close to real food. I should leave you-”

“No.” Laedron crouched next to his pack and removed the bags of salted meat and jerky. “Here, take it.”

“I couldn’t. Thank you for the offer, but I cannot eat this while the rest of my people starve. We’ll make due.”

Pouring the contents of his pack on the floor, Laedron took the tins in his arms. “Take all of it. This should be plenty to give your people a decent meal.”

“What will you do, Sorcerer, when you grow hungry?” Tavin asked, taking the tins when Laedron forced them into his hands.

“We each left the city with enough in our packs to feed us for a few weeks. Don’t worry about us. We have plenty left in our other bags.”

Tavin opened the door. “Your generosity is uncommon, especially in these lands and certainly in these times. We thank you.”

Laedron gave him a nod, waited for the door to close, then turned to Marac. “You seem anxious. Is something on your mind?”

“We’ve been talking, and I think we need to discuss this.”

“Yes?”

Marac took a deep breath. “We have concerns about helping these people. What they ask, we think, isn’t reasonable, Lae.”

“Really? Why do you think that?”

“They’re asking us to retrieve an ancient artifact so that they can continue living forever? It’s unnatural. If they were meant to have the gift of eternal life, I think that they would’ve been born with it.”

“Can you not see the suffering in their eyes? We can’t just leave them, Marac.”

“And why not? What stake have we in this?”

Laedron rubbed the back of his neck. “You? Little to none. For me, it’s a bit more complicated.”

“Explain it to us. Make us understand.” Marac sat on the edge of the paltry table, its supports creaking with the added weight. “Right now, I don’t think any of our hearts are in it.”

“Even you?” Laedron asked Valyrie.

“He’s right, Lae. We have to have a reason, some acceptable purpose, if we’re expected to risk our lives for them. We have to know that what we’re doing is right.”

Have they turned her against me? Or is this a result of our earlier arguments? And Marac, how could he question me when we’re so close to the answers? “The Uxidin have kept magic alive for thousands of years. Without them, it might have been lost along with the rest of history’s secrets. To think, they shared the blessings of magic with mortal men, and now, mortal men have a chance to repay that debt-through us.”