Brian Kittrell - The Immortals of Myrdwyer

“I have one of those,” Marac said, grasping the hilt of his blade. “I don’t see how it would be much use against the-”

Harridan slammed the blade against a stone block. A crack of thundered blasted in Laedron’s eardrums, and he couldn’t hear anything over the ringing that followed. When the dust cleared, Harridan stood before the remains of a brick split in two, the majority of it falling to the ground in the form of a fine powder.

Digging in his ears, Laedron asked, “How is that possible? Have you used the sword as a casting implement?”

With a broad grin, Harridan returned the weapon to its place under the altar. “You must not be much of a sorcerer if you’re asking me that question. How else?”

“Magic fused into a blade?” Laedron’s mind drifted at the possibilities. “You’ve found a way to bind magic to a sword?”

“Is it such a far stretch?” Tavin pointed at Laedron’s scepter. “If we can charge rods and wands with essence, can we not do the same for anything? The problem, which we have overcome, was how to do it with a specific effect, so that the weapon would produce the same event when it struck its target.”

“’Twas a simple thing when all was said and done, really,” Harridan said. “It was only a matter of keeping the spell from being cast constantly, to ensure that it only occurred under certain conditions. In the case of a sword, the condition would be when connecting with a target.”

“If you have weapons such as these, why couldn’t you defeat Kareth? What makes you think we would stand a better chance than you?” Marac asked.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Swordsman.” Sitting on the edge of the stone altar, Harridan cleared his throat, probably because he inhaled a fair amount of dust. “We thought we had the advantage the first time we attacked. When many of our people were killed, we had to come up with a new plan of action. Well, after we found a way to hide from the Trappers and keep our people safe, that is. The adventurers, young people like you, kept coming, and each time they failed to retrieve the tome for us. Nearly a decade has passed since the last group, and now, you’re here.”

Tavin, his palms up, spread his arms and approached Harridan. “They could be our best chance, Far’rah. And they have soulstones to enchant more of our weapons.”

“Not so fast,” Laedron said. “If we’re to help you, we’ll use our own weapons, and you’ll show me how to imbue them.”

Harridan shook his head. “You think that I would share this secret with the likes of you? One of the greatest, most profound breakthroughs in magic since immortality itself? I think not.”

“What will you do, then?” Laedron thought about something Ismerelda had told him once, about how the Uxidin wouldn’t help Azura defend the humans in the Great War. “You would risk your eternal lives doing battle with Kareth? One slip, one mistake, and you’ll die like everyone else.”

Groping his neck as if it had been pierced, Harridan sighed. “A small price to pay, perhaps. Before I agree, I would speak to Tavingras in private.”

Nodding, Laedron led his companions back into the corridor and closed the door behind them. “That seems to have gone well.”

“Did it? Why would you trade a simple spell for the tome?” Marac asked. “For something as risky as this, we should be well compensated. They must have something worthy of our efforts down here.”

“Can you not see how useful such a spell could be?” Laedron pointed at the glowing gems illuminating the hall. “Permanent magic, Marac. We could produce everlasting lamps.”

“Lanterns? This is about lanterns?” Brice asked. “Why would I risk my life for some bloody lanterns when we have cheap candles and torches to see by?”

“Lanterns, yes, amongst other things. If you could make magic permanent, you would have a distinct advantage over your enemies. Common people could use things made by mages, things imbued with powerful spells.”

Valyrie shook her head. “Is that such a good idea? If you give magic to everyone, the world would become quite a dangerous place. Besides, what if the same thing that happened to Zyvdred happens everywhere? Forests and mountains devoid of life, and men killing others for their essence? You’ll need soulstones in vast supply if you intend to give the world these magical trinkets, Lae.”

“Not the whole world.” Laedron rubbed his chin. “Such a plan would take further thought, but of what they have to offer, I’m convinced that the spell alone is worth the trouble.”

The door creaked open, and Tavin said, “The Far’rah has agreed.”

Laedron glanced at Marac, then walked past him into the abbey. “Then it is done?”

“It is,” Harridan said. “I will teach you how to imbue your weapons, and in exchange, you will take Tavin to retrieve The Bloodmyr Tome.”

“Far’rah, I… you would send me?” Tavin asked. “Have I not served you well?”

“Indeed, you have, but one of our people must go with them as a guide. Would you rather I go, Tavingras?”

“No, of course not, but-”

“Who else has the knowledge of the ruins? You’re the only one who has ventured to the surface in months.”

Reluctantly, Tavin replied, “Yes, Far’rah. I will go.”

“Good.” Harridan turned to Laedron. “Do you need rest?”

Laedron looked at his friends, and their worn expressions told him the answer without them speaking a word. “Yes. We’ve had little sleep.”

“Then, you’ll go late in the morning. The Trappers are less active during the daylight. Isn’t that right, Tavin?”

“Yes, Far’rah.”

“Take them to your chamber, then, and I shall teach this sorcerer the spell he desires. Return to me before you leave, and I shall give you my blessing.”

Tavin led Marac, Brice, and Valyrie out, and Laedron remained with Harridan until he could, with confidence, reproduce the spell and enchant items with magical effects.

Finally, Harridan said, “There is one thing I should relay before you go.”

“And that is?”

“The essence, no matter the source, seems to last considerably longer in items in comparison to a living being. Whereas our bodies need the energy constantly, imbued items only expend energy when they’re used. Thus, the sword you enchanted with the sonic charm could last many lifetimes even with moderate use.”

“Thank you.”

Harridan nodded, and Laedron exited into the hall, then joined his friends in Tavin’s quarters.

* * *

Having settled down and eaten their evening meals, Laedron and his companions gathered in the corner where Tavin had told them they could sleep for the night. Stone floors. Laedron shuffled in his bedroll in an attempt to find comfort where none existed. Marac seemed to have little trouble falling asleep because he was snoring only a few minutes after they had lain down. In fact, Laedron soon found himself the only one awake, except for Tavin, who sat at his table reading an old, dusty tome.

Laedron stood and crept across the floor, being careful not to disturb the others. Once he reached Tavin’s desk, he asked, “Did any of them check on our horses?”

“Yes, the little boy did.”

“Little boy?”

“That one.” Tavin pointed at Brice.

“He’s not much younger than us, really. If memory serves, we’re less than a year apart in age.”

“I see.” Keeping his place with his finger, Tavin closed his book, then gazed at Laedron’s bedroll. “You don’t have to lie there all night.”

“No?”

“Read a book or study a map if you like. To stare at the ceiling for hours would be a waste of time if you can’t sleep.”