Dave Smeds - The Sorcery Within

Soon they were all assembled, but one. Enret noted the hourglass and coughed. "Should we leave anyway?"

"He has to go," the king said. They waited a short while, and the last man appeared.

Keron rarely saw his cousin, Treynaf. The latter was an effeminate, dour man nearly as old as the admiral. He wore his hair close-cropped, like the ancient wizard-kings of Acalon, and was not popular at court, but he was able to activate the globe of Alemar, which he even now nestled in his hands. Pranter insisted that any who could use the talismans should accompany the party. That was why Val was present.

"What news, Cousin?" asked Keron.

Treynaf rubbed the crystal reverently. His eyes briefly glazed over. "I see a long swim," he answered tonelessly.

That was hardly news. They couldn't risk travel by ship, nor would they stop at cities along the way, for fear that the Dragon would somehow pick up their trail. They would literally swim to the coast.

It was unfortunate that Treynaf was not more worthy of the globe's potential, Keron thought. He could have foreseen useful things, such as the Dragon's recent attack.

The king stood. The others bowed to him.

"Follow this man," the king said, pointing his scepter at Keron. "He will be your monarch now." With a trembling, unsteady hand, he placed the head of the scepter against the wall behind him. Double doors suddenly became visible and opened inward, revealing a narrow, unlit tunnel that smelled of stagnant air.

"May you all outlive the Dragon," Pranter declared.

Enret took the lead, letting the others follow single file. At last only Keron was left with the aged, rightful ruler of Elandris. Pranter suddenly swayed, maintaining his balance only by placing his hand on Keron's shoulder. When he was steady, he handed the scepter to the younger man.

Keron took it reluctantly. As two weeks before in the observation dome, he thought he felt a throb of power within the device. He found it hard to look at; it was a thing he had never dared to hope to own.

"Take it!" the king insisted. "Stick it in Gloroc's eye!"

Keron nodded. The king turned and sat down. There was nothing more to say. Keron entered the tunnel, touched the doors as Pranter had instructed earlier, and watched them close. The light vanished.

They walked wordlessly down the passage, guiding themselves by touch. The tunnel was featureless – simply a flat floor, an arching roof, and smooth walls. The sound of their own breathing was fantastically loud.

Finally Enret called, "Wall here, Admiral."

Keron slipped past the others. The end of the passage was blocked. He touched the partition with the scepter. A massive door slid to the side, revealing an airlock on the other side, its contours made visible by dim phosphorescence.

The party filed in. There was nothing to indicate the chamber had ever been used. It seemed to be chiselled out of native coral and sealed by extreme heat, though there was no char. The only highlight was the broad, circular hatch in the center of the floor.

Keron sealed the opening through which they had come, and they put on their airmakers and vests. Two men opened the flood ports. The chamber began to fill with sea water. Keron sighed at the scent of free, honest ocean. As soon as the room had filled, they opened the hatch.

They came out on the underside of a huge coral formation. Keron, the last man out, closed the hatch behind him. At a touch from the scepter, the spindle spun from the inside, restoring the lock. From this side, the hatch was a barnacle-encrusted circle of coral, perfectly concealed in the shadows.

The city was to the east, most of a league away. The magnificent vartham dome shone in the night waters. Their gazes lingered on her lights.

Keron signalled, and they set out, hugging the ocean floor against the remote chance that the Dragon had stationed observers near the city. They soon vanished into the murk.

ASALEMAR ANDGAST MADEtheir way down the road at the western edge of the Ahloorm River, they unexpectedly ran into a large encampment of Zyraii. The group had settled under the canopy of a grove ofhoeanaou trees, where they were feasting and drinking wine. They proved to be the Hysic, the smallest clan of the T'lil, in the midst of their migration from the river basin to the far parts of their range. Children ran out to meet the Hab-no-ken, followed not long after by the Hysic's sole Bo-no-ken and a party of elders.

"What is the occasion?" Gast inquired, after he had accepted an invitation to join the festivities.

"The siege of Xurosh has ended," the Bo-no-ken replied. "The traders have sent their soldiers home."

Alemar took the wineskin that had been thrust into his hands and listened keenly, eager for news of Elenya. He had not seen her since he had originally left with Gast. They had visited the T'krt twice in recent months, but she had not been there. She was among the warriors who continued to defend the fort after the Zyraii had taken it.

"Yetem has becomehai-Zyraii," a very young Po-no-pha told him, apologizing almost in the same breath for not being able to remain at Xurosh; he had sustained a broken leg while storming the fortress. Alemar had noticed his slight limp. "He has shared blood with the war-leader."

The youth went on to describe the battle, particularly the attack on the southern keep, where he had received his injury. Alemar sat with him and the few Po-no-pha present and listened patiently. He had heard the story of Xurosh several times. He knew of Shigmur's death, of the poisoning of the well, and of Lonal and Elenya's desperate stand. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it for the social aspect, which he often missed in his travels with Gast, and he was proud of his sister's new honor.

It was late before he excused himself and wandered to the edge of the camp. He stood at the edge of the jungle, bathed in the glow of Motherworld, enjoying the sensation of being surrounded by trees. He had never totally adjusted to the desert's overwhelmingly open spaces. Soon he realized he was being watched.

It was a woman. She was about Alemar's age, small, sturdy, and calm in her movements. She waited respectfully for him to acknowledge her, which he did.

"Would you look at my daughter? She is ill." Something in her tone told Alemar that if he should decline, she would accept that gracefully and retire, but with the same observation he realized that she was not the type to summon him without cause.

"Of course," he answered.

The girl, a four-year-old, was under a small awning, segregated from her family's tent for fear that her sickness was contagious. She was fierce with fever and had a rash across her chest and throat. Alemar frowned. He had not seen the symptoms before, but they matched one of Gast's descriptions. He could fetch the Hab-no-ken…

He decided against it, instead placing his palms around one of the little girl's hands. Within seconds he had entered a trance.

The girl's form seemed to become transparent. He could sense the functioning of each organ, the pulsing and coursing of her bloodstream, the amount of urine in her bladder. The source of the problem was immediately apparent. He could see thewrongness leaving the upper intestine and spreading throughout the rest of the body. He memorized the aura of the irritant and ended the trance.

"What has she eaten in the past two days?" he asked the mother.

"Millet, cheese, dates…"

"Any milk?"

"Yes, of course."

He gestured out at the spot where the sheep and goats had been penned. "Fetch a bit of fresh milk for me."

When she had returned, Alemar lifted the milk to his nose and sniffed. "Grass, water…yolo weed."

"There's a great deal of it growing nearby," she said. "The sheep won't touch it, but the goats don't care."