The Shard of Fire Read online

  “What kind of spell does that?”

  “That, dear brother, is the problem. We have absolutely no idea …”

  CHAPTER 9: IRON AND STONE

  The next day Gil wandered about the castle on his own. Lost, a good dozen times, the attendant from the night before had done nothing more than show him his room, and there were many many room. There were huge rooms with vaulted ceilings, colored glass and endless tapestries. There were small rooms stuffed to the edge with supplies, larders of fat, salted eel, and barrel upon barrel of aged port, spiced ale or dark rum. There were odd rooms, of odd sizes, and many of them. Some were alchemist labs filled with hundreds of bottles, potions and powders, others not more than closets filled with wrinkled dusty scrolls which no one ever read. Many rooms were piled haphazardly with treasures, old ruby crusted lamps, golden platters scribed with delicate complicated swirls, and dozens of goblets, vases, statues, and coins. None were guarded and no one seemed to care. Gil stood for a very long time at the first of such rooms wondering if it was a trap, or enchanted, or a test. After the fourth such room he stopped wondering. The castle was rich beyond compare, and enormous, and empty. There were far more rooms than people, and far more treasures than anyone ever would need. He wondered if others in the kingdom knew of the wealth, and wondered why no one had ever dared take it.

  By midday, he had been lost enough times that a simple map began forming in his mind. He knew where the library was, the endlessly long room filled with more books than he ever knew existed, or ever thought possible. He knew where the hot baths were, very well, having seen far more of the women in RavensKeep than they would have liked, but far less that he had wanted given the opportunity. He had found a dozen lecture rooms, workrooms, kilns, coupes, balconies, stables, stairways, hallways, passageways, secret passageways and more abbeys than he thought possible, though he had explored only one quarter of one floor of one tower. Eventual, tired and desperately hungry he happened upon a dining hall by random chance and found Carmine sitting before the carcass of a large turkey, a silver pitcher of red wine, and three wheels of musty cheese, while merrily chatting with the two druid siblings.

  A moment of tense silence swept the table as Gil sat down, but broke as suddenly when he attacked the turkey like a hungry wolf. Carmine had already charmed both druids into new-found life-long friends, and wasn’t for some reason all that surprised that they had met Link before. Nevertheless, they were all rather astonished both with his incomparable appetite, and his profound if not dangerous talent of destroying monsters be they Mallocks, robber gangs or once fowl feathered friends.

  “You should have seen the look on Master Valik’s face!” the druid girl laughed. Her name was Sela, it meant forest in the their tongue, and when she smiled at Gil he blushed more than even two pitchers of red wine could have hoped. “Serves him right the bastard, that you killed his little pet, what kind of a monster summons a thing like that for a test anyways? I’m glad its dead! They say it was the last one, and now there are no more Mallocks in the world, and good riddance!” She laughed again but in a rather different way. It was a monster, but perhaps, even monsters deserved to live, sometimes.

  “We owe you our lives Link …” Tarr, Sela’s brother said. Gil shook his head as if it was no big deal.

  “He’s right … truly, I’d be … we’d all be … dead if it wasn’t for you.” Sela spoke, softly laying her hand on Gil’s arm for a moment, she blushed, this time. Carmine smiled wide. Ah kids. He was after all several years older.

  “They're both right Link! Swear to Velor we’d be mashed potatoes right now if it wasn’t for you.” Gil set down his spoonful of whipped spuds. “Though … why did you throw your axe?” the table was silent as Gil looked up over the edge of his wine cup, they were all waiting for an answer.

  “I … uh …” Gil glanced at Sela, her face was filled with a pensive pondering look and he blushed again even deeper this time, “I … uh … don’t know, it seemed like a good idea at the time …” Gil gulped down several swallows of wine, embarrassed. Sela and Tarr smiled. Carmine chuckled, and Gil grew even redder.

  “My friend …" Carmine winked, “if there is ever anything we can do to return the favor," lifting his glass to the table, “just ask …”

  At this Gil’s face stiffened for a moment as he set down his cup. The others stopped smiling and stared eagerly at Gil, waiting. His voice trembled a bit but finally he spoke. “Well … to start with, you can help me find god-damn Master Amas …"

  -------

  Archmage Monith sat behind his large oak desk gazing at a dozen maps and scrolls unravelled before him. The negotiations had not gone well. The Huu-Di and the Pillar Kingdoms had been fighting over the crescent plain for three hundred years, and for good reason, for the plain was a rich fertile farmland unmatched in all the world. It sat on the northern bank of the great river Umbia, a bank which if the river defined the borders of the kingdom as the Huu-Di claimed, belonged to the Huu-Di, yet currently, was controlled and occupied by Pillar. A delicate peace, maintained by RavensKeep, whose castle was nearest the plain, had kept the balance of power between the two kingdoms for generations. Yet now, the Huu-Di had grown powerful, and large, while the seat of the Pillar Kingdom dwindled in the southern deserts. Only RavensKeep hemmed the tide of looming war, always at the horizon. What was Shenchon up to? Monith stared at the maps, lost in thought.

  “Don’t you ever knock?” Monith asked, eventually glancing up from his desk, annoyed. Valik, in his long crimson jacket, sat smiling, innocently, in a chair before Monith’s desk, his feet crossed and stretched atop the archmage's desk.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you, Master Archmage …” Valik bowed his head, half in jest.

  “You are …" Monith returned his gaze to the maps.

  “My apologies, truly … but some things can not wait no matter how annoying they might be,” Valik smiled, gently, playing with his golden rings. Monith ignored him. “I am in need of new pupils for the order …” Valik continued, Monith still ignored him. “I believe four should be sufficient, this time …”

  Monith looked up. Four. “And where is the group I gave you last month?”

  Valik smiled. “Dead,” he said blankly. Monith stared at the Crimson Wizard. The council was right to choose Cassandra. Valik sighed, heavily, but continued, “It’s not my fault if your trainees don’t have enough sense to see through a witches tricks … I did warn them after all …”

  “No.” Monith said flatly to Valik.

  “No?” Valik smiled back.

  “No. We can’t spare any more at the moment, the entry exam was yesterday, and as I’m sure you know, very few passed.”

  “Yes, I do seem to recall that, though, I think at least four did.” Valik smiled a bit wider. Monith stared at him for a good long while.

  “Why do you want those four? They are completely untrained …” Monith’s voice was filled with reproach.

  “Hmmm … why? Why indeed … teamwork … ingenuity … glorious death. All four have the makings of excellent pupils for the order.” Valik was beaming with a row of impossibly white teeth, “Besides, I’ve looked over your other students, what few I could find, and it seems you're training an excellent group of accountants and librarians, outstanding job as always, Master Archmage …” Valik bowed even lower this time.

  “You’d be leading them to their deaths …”

  “I doubt that, very much. But if so, it is for the need of our King … unless you’d like me to tell him you said no?” Valik grinned but in a very different way. Monith paused, hesitant, but eventually sighed.

  “When?”

  “A month, maybe sooner. Anyways, that should give you enough time to give these four any training you think they might need. In the meantime, I have a few errands to attend to, and I’ll need to replenish my stocks from the vaults if you don’t mind,” not that Monith had a choice in that either, “but after that we will be off, important secret mission you know, ve
ry hush hush, direct order of the King.”

  “What mission? Where?” Monith stammered.

  “As always Master Archmage, it has been a pleasure.” Valik stood and bowed perhaps sincerely this time, and left the office. Monith stared after him through the open door, there really was nothing he could do.

  -------

  Gil tried to explain as best he could. It wasn’t easy, considering he couldn’t tell them who he actually was, why he needed to find Master Amas, or why he couldn’t ask the archmages. It was easier just to lie. A simple lie, as close to the truth as possible. He told them that a gang of evil magi and pen-cu had taken over his village and that he had barely escaped with his life. He told them that an elder from his village sent him to RavensKeep to find Master Amas and ask for his help. He left out the shard of course, and everyone dying, and the tournament, and the name of the village. He told them of his conversation with the archmages, mostly, though deciding it was better to leave out the out the part about forbidden magic, which would only raise more questions. And he told them how everyone he’d spoken to thus far had never heard of a Master Amas.

  Even so, Carmine wanted Gil to tell the archmages of what had happened in his village. Or to tell one of the king’s knights, or a warlock from the Black Order, or anyone really, who could help. Many would, he said, for the Huu-Di would never allow such an injustice to go unpunished. But Gil wouldn’t explain further, and didn’t know whether or not they believed him, and didn’t care. Far too many people had died already, and far too many people were trying to kill him, to care.

  But, by the second day, their doubts didn’t seem to matter all that much anymore as Valik had informed them of their new assignments in the Order. The druids protested loudly, having just arrived at the castle, wanting to stay, wanting to learn all they come to learn. Valik assured them that they would learn far more with him, than here among decrepit old mages.

  Carmine, unlike the others, understood what it meant to join RavensKeep. He knew anyone in the Keep could be called to the Order, anytime, though most never were. It was the grand bargain, for a thousand years, a pact, between the kings of the mountains and the mages of the castle. To learn the greatest magics, to be independent, one risked the call to service, to the King, to the Order. Most, stayed safe and secluded, tucked away in some dull corner of the castle, their whole lives spent in a book reading about magic but never using it. They faded away, them and their magics, never needing to think about service, or war, or anything other then their studies. Those few that were called, were often called years after them came to the castle. The Order was patient and cunning. It looked for a very particular set of skills before choosing, not just experience, or knowledge, but a certain moral flexibility, done in the name of the order of course, and accompanied by dissatisfaction with the heavy hand of the Mage’s Council, and the Houses of Magic. Members of the Order were often sent to investigate the very people who first trained them, house leaders, mages, wizards, anyone who may have broken the code, or defied the King. There was a thin line between magic and politics, one which the Black Order often wrote.

  Carmine accepted their new assignment, happily. Service in the Order would be exciting he thought. A departure from the boredom of study, from the monotony of nobility, and a grand adventure, no matter where they would go. Even so, he did wonder why they had been chosen, and why now, though he didn’t mention it to the others.

  Unlike his friends, Gil had remained silent. He didn’t agree, or argue with the news, for he didn’t know what to make of Valik, or the Order. The Order belong to the King and kingdom, they were investigators, inquisitors, the order maintained law where the army couldn’t, they dealt with magics where others wouldn’t, and often did things no one ever spoke of. They were always on the road, for they were nomads and went where needed, as needed, and though their numbers were few, it was always said that the order was clever, dark, and dangerous. Valik gave them each a blackened steel pin of an ouroboros, badges of the Black Order, and told them they would leave in a few short weeks.

  After that, the others jumped on board without further questions. RavensKeep would always be open to them, but their assignments would take them across kingdoms, and the chances of returning to the castle would be few and far between. Death or distance would keep them away, months, years, maybe longer. If this was to be their first, and last time at the castle, they would make the most of it, and at the very least accomplish this. They would help Gil find Master Amas, no matter what it took.

  -------

  Several days passed as the four friends set upon their quest whenever they could, with vigor and tenacity. Mornings, from sunrise to noon, were spent in class, learning from various masters in the castle. All first year students were required to take the same three basic core classes.

  The first was Balancing Your Inner Star with Master Kalh, a short man with large white whiskers that grew from his lips, his ears, and eyes, and practically everywhere except the top of his head. Inner Star taught students to sit in a darkened room, staring at a candle, with their eyes closed, for several long hours.

  The next class, Theory and History of Magical Callings, was taught by Mistress Van Ep, a strange woman who waved her hands dramatically regardless of how small or unimportant an antidote might be. More than once both Carmine and Tarr feel asleep in her class, for which she magically bound their sleeping hands to their sleeping feet and left them laying on the floor, while she moved the class to another room. Neither boy could break the spell when they woke, and they were forced to waddle down the halls like squat pigs and apologise to Mistress Van Ep each time.

  The third and last course was Etiquette and Rules of RavensKeep in which Master Attendant Oal did his best to painstakingly repeat the four hundred and ninety-nine rules of the castle, each day. No one was allowed to ask questions, or do anything other than follow Oal around the grounds as he pointed and recited where not to sit, where not to eat, and where not to die. Sela thought Oal had likely been doing this same speech for a hundred years if not more and she wonder how many students had died just from listening. Each day, Oal toured them through the castle like common visitors saying things like, “This is the library, books are never to leave this room,” and, “this door is locked for a reason, you are never to open it,” and so on, and so forth, yet never explaining why. The days blinked by, quickly, and without reason, as the four learned a great many things and rules they had absolutely no use for. Worse, as it soon became all too clear, none of the classes taught magic. Not even a spell, not one, and Gil wondered why.

  In the afternoons, students were made to run up and down the butte’s stairs, three times. If they stopped, they were made to start over from the beginning. If they paused, they were made to start over from the beginning. If they whined or complained, or spoke, they were made to start over, from the beginning. A strong body was the key to strong magic, or so they were told. In some ways, Gil thought, the running was worse than listening to the endless lectures and rules and sitting in stuffy old rooms wasting time.

  -------

  As the days quickly flew by, the four friends searched for Master Amas whenever they could. Sometimes they snuck out of Master Kahl’s Inner Star class, it was easy, when the old man was asleep and snoring in the dark more days than not. Sometimes, they pretended to be asleep in Mistress Van Ep’s class, just so she would bind them, and leave them, for hours at a time, alone and forgotten. She hadn’t realized they had figured out how to break her spell weeks ago, or how to cast it themselves before she returned. They no longer crawled on hands and knees begging to be freed, which only made her all the more mad, and made her leave them all the while longer, and for them, the better. Oal’s class was particularly difficult if not impossible to escape. Oal was an impatient, insanely observant, and attentive little man who watched the students like a hawk. All they could do was watch, and listen, and hope, that one of his stupid little rules, or facts, or bits of unimportant knowledge, woul
d someday somehow point them in the right direction.

  -------

  At first, when they could, when they skipped out of class, or when they roamed the halls at night tired and hungry and sour, the four friends asked with caution, and care, whispering questions to those they thought might know, or to whom they could possible hopefully trust. Results varied. Most asked didn’t bother, or didn’t have time, or didn’t want to admit they didn’t know. Master who? Amas what? No one in the castle had ever heard of Master Amas, not now, not ever.

  When disappointment turned to necessity, the four quickly decided to broadened their search to include more than just people. They started in the library, rousing page and paper, but had no luck, for there were far too many books to search and none written on or by Master Amas. Next, they tried the alchemist labs, the workshops, the classrooms, the gardens, the kitchens and banquet halls, any room and anywhere they could access and search. Not surprisingly, they didn’t find anything, and many rooms, if not most, were locked. The castle was immense and few if any roamed its halls. In fact it was almost completely empty. The four wandered the halls for hours, without sight or sound of others. Whatever secrets the castle kept, they assumed, were not out in the open.

  Interestingly enough, as they were now members of the Black Order and as it was their last time in the castle, locked doors, and Oal’s rules, didn’t seem to be as much of a problem to them as one might have thought. Neither were locked cabinets, or closets, or windows, or chests or vaults, or anything barring their way. Carmine it seemed, knew a rather useful opening spell that could unlock almost anything. The others wondered why a nobleman’s son knew or needed such a spell, but didn’t ask. They were eager to learn, and to try it themselves.