Authors: Gail Z. Martin
“Lord Reese is known to me,” the Wraith Lord said. “I admire his ruthlessness, but he is reckless and brings danger to all of our kind. I prefer a world in which magic functions. Even in my state, magic makes many things much easier, and it keeps the livestock healthier.”
Livestock.
The word took Connor’s breath away. He was quite certain that humans were included in the Wraith Lord’s definition of the word.
“Why did you come here, Penhallow?” the Wraith Lord asked. “Surely it was not for my blessing, or to hear old tales.”
“On the contrary, old tales are exactly what I would hear from you, my lord. I want to learn what you know about how magic can be restored.”
The Wraith Lord paused. “I saw the magic raised before Mirdalur,” he said at last. “When I was a mortal, magic eluded the grasp of men, as it does now. The
hasithara
magic had been broken for more than a generation. Those who survived lived out a wretched existence in a savage, lawless land. I have no desire to see those times return,” the Wraith Lord said, with more emotion than Connor would have expected.
“The strongest lords of the time followed a holy man to a place in the wilderness where the wild storms came most ferociously. There, they made a working to raise and bind the magic to bring it under men’s control once more.”
“Were you there?” Penhallow pressed, his face taut with excitement.
“Yes.”
“And in time, something destroyed the magic again, so that it was necessary to raise it once again at Mirdalur?” Penhallow asked.
“Yes. A conspiracy of mages destroyed the kingdom and brought our people to their knees,” the Wraith Lord replied, anger coloring his tone.
“Was the older ritual the same as the one that raised the magic at Mirdalur?” Penhallow could not hide the excitement in his voice.
“No. Not exactly. Magic is not an alchemist’s formula. I was told that every time the power is raised, the ritual must fit the needs of those who seek to bind the magic,” the Wraith Lord replied.
“And it has been done many times?”
“Yes.” It seemed to Connor that the Wraith Lord had grown more solid as they spoke, and as the moon rose in the sky. Where at first his shape had been a blurred form hidden in the mist, now Connor could glimpse a man veiled in fog, broad-shouldered with a warrior’s build, clad in a style of clothing not seen for several hundred years.
“Do you know anything we might use to bring the magic back?” Penhallow asked.
There was a long pause, so long that Connor wondered whether or not the Wraith Lord would speak again. Finally, the gray form shifted, and the Wraith Lord roused from his thoughts. “There was a mage named Archus Quintrel who was obsessed with the history of magic. He disappeared, along with his notes, never to be seen again.” He paused. “He left a descendant. I have heard it said that the descendant followed in his footsteps.”
“Was Archus Quintrel killed? Did he truly vanish by choice?” Penhallow asked.
The Wraith Lord shrugged. “It was said that the Knights of Esthrane spirited him away to protect the forbidden knowledge he had uncovered.” Another pause. “There were rumors that before he disappeared, Archus Quintrel rambled on about finding the long-lost city Valshoa. Most people dismissed it as empty bragging, but I do not. I have heard recounts of its fall from those who saw it firsthand.”
“Do you believe the Knights hid him?” Penhallow pressed. “Or did they destroy him?”
The Wraith Lord inclined his head. “Either is likely.” There was another long pause, this one more uncomfortable. “Is this the sole reason that you requested an audience, Lord Penhallow? I do not like to be disturbed.”
Penhallow bowed low, making a gesture of deference. “A thousand pardons, my lord,” Penhallow said smoothly. “But there is another pressing matter. I petition you to convene the Elders. I claim the right to neutrality.”
I’ve got no idea what that means, but it doesn’t sound good
, Connor thought.
And if Penhallow isn’t among the Elders, I’m damned if I want to be anywhere near a bunch of even older
talishte
.
His heart was thudding, and he was acutely aware that its rapid beat made him more noticeable, and attractive, to the Wraith Lord.
Penhallow’s playing a dangerous game
, Connor thought.
I don’t think the Elders convene on a whim.
“You understand that if the Elders find your petition to be unworthy, they can destroy you and your servants without penalty,” the Wraith Lord cautioned.
“I understand,” Penhallow said gravely. “Reese is putting his considerable resources against McFadden to stop the magic from coming back. All I want is a guarantee of neutrality from the Elders, that they will not aid or hinder either Reese or McFadden. Just their word that the Elders will not become involved.”
For the first time, Connor thought he saw a flash of emotion on the Wraith Lord’s features. “Nothing is simple when it comes to the Elders.” He was silent for a moment. “I will convey your petition.”
Through the bond, Connor felt a tinge of Penhallow’s emotions: worry about McFadden, and a sense of solidarity that Connor found reassuring. Connor nodded to show that he understood. Then he drew a deep breath, said a prayer to Esthrane, and prepared to die.
The Wraith Lord gathered himself from the mists once more. “The petition has been made. I will summon you when a time has been chosen – if they agree to hear your plea.” He paused. “We have an intruder,” he remarked.
Penhallow exchanged a glance with Connor. “On your land?”
“Pentreath Reese has presented himself and demands an audience,” the Wraith Lord said. “I’ve sensed his presence at the edge of my territory. It was as if he were waiting for something – or someone. Perhaps he suspected that you would come?” His tone conveyed amusement, but underneath was anger. “I’ve given him permission to join us. I would hear what he has to say.”
Pentreath Reese strode toward them, his long cloak billowing about him as he moved. The moonlight glinted from his hair, washing out its color and accentuating his pallor.
“You were not called to this meeting,” the Wraith Lord replied. Connor could feel anger radiating from the Wraith Lord, although he could not see his mist-shrouded features.
“An oversight, don’t you agree? Since your decision involves me.” Reese’s confidence appeared unshakable. He stood with his head high, shoulders squared, his demeanor just shy of throwing down a challenge.
“It is forbidden to appear before an Elder uninvited,” the Wraith Lord said.
“No more forbidden than it is to summon the Elders without due cause,” Reese answered. “Penhallow runs from shadows of his own imagining. The plot he fears does not exist.”
“Reese lies.” Penhallow’s voice revealed all of the anger that flashed in his eyes. “His loyalists burned my sanctuary, cut down my fledglings. He brought an army against Traher Voss and demanded my surrender.”
“Ruffians abound,” Reese replied smoothly. “The fact that they used my name doesn’t prove that I had anything to do with their actions. As for Voss, the man cannot be trusted.”
“No one said Voss could be trusted,” Penhallow responded. “The man plays by his own rules. In that, he is more like
talishte
. I saw the soldiers myself. I was there when they demanded my surrender.”
“Yet here you are, apparently unscathed,” Reese said. “Perhaps I should be doubly offended, first, that you think I brought siege against Voss, and second, that you claim my soldiers were such incompetents as to let you escape.” His tone was light, but the anger that glinted in his eyes was fierce.
“Is it your intent to stop magic from being restored?” the Wraith Lord asked in a neutral tone.
“It is my intent to stop a convicted murderer from bringing down a worse cataclysm on our heads than has already befallen us,” Reese answered. His deep voice echoed from the standing stones, his manner totally confident. “Blaine McFadden is a danger to our kind, and Lanyon Penhallow is abetting him.”
“I have heard Penhallow,” the Wraith Lord said. “I will hear you.”
“The McFaddens have had no love for
talishte
. Ian McFadden supported King Merrill’s decree banishing us from court. He has never tolerated
talishte
presence on his lands. There were ugly whispers that Ian McFadden was to blame for the disappearance, and presumed destruction, of several
talishte
within the borders of his holdings.”
“No one defends Ian McFadden, especially not his son,” Penhallow countered. “Ian McFadden is dead. This is not about him.”
“The son is no better than the father,” Reese replied. “I placed a spy in Edgeland to watch Blaine McFadden, because I did not believe that any prison short of death could hold him. I was correct. He led the assault on the Velant camp, murdered its commander, and used a ship he hijacked to return to Donderath. He seeks a renegade mage and his goal is to harness the power of magic for himself, to set himself up as king.”
Connor started forward, so angry at Reese’s words that he forgot himself. Just as he was about to speak, he felt the icy grip of the Wraith Lord on his shoulder. His throat constricted, making it impossible for words to form, and he could not break free of the cold fingers that held him. The Wraith Lord shifted slightly, putting his form between Connor and Reese.
“Blaine McFadden does indeed seek the counsel of mages,” Penhallow said. “But his purpose is to restore the magic, not to take it for himself. He had little magical power before the Great Fire. He killed the Velant commander because Prokief was well known as a tyrant, a man so savage that Merrill exiled him along with his prisoners. The ship was abandoned, not hijacked. He left Edgeland out of obligation, as the last living Lord of the Blood.”
Penhallow’s eyes narrowed. “Lord Reese has also conveniently forgotten to mention that he sent an assassin, not an observer, to Edgeland. An assassin charged with eliminating McFadden so that he could not return to raise the magic.”
“My man had the discretion to decide when the threat was sufficient to require elimination,” Reese replied coolly.
“The threat to your plans,” Penhallow charged. “The threat to your intent to rise as the new warlord-king of Donderath.”
Reese laughed. “Really, Lanyon, is that your fear? Do you suppose me so great a threat that you seek to gather the Elders?”
“I don’t fear you, Pentreath. But I have no desire to be ruled by you, or to see what you would make of a kingdom with Donderath under your boot,” Penhallow replied. “I wish to see Blaine McFadden succeed in his quest to restore the magic. To do that, I must stop you from killing him.”
“The
talishte
have become weak!” Reese thundered. “Listen to yourself! We are predators, and we need magic no more than do the wolves and the great forest cats.”
“I don’t consider myself a wild beast,” Penhallow countered. “Just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean that I disdain the comforts civilization offers me. And without magic, we are not truly civilized.” He paused. “It’s also no secret among this group that we have often used magic to keep the peace among ourselves, so that the less powerful are not ground beneath the heel of those who would rule over us.”
Reese laughed. “Is that how you see me, Lanyon? As the would-be conqueror of
talishte
? I would not have expected such fears from one of your age and power.”
“My age and power are sufficient to have shown me much about the nature of our hearts,” Penhallow replied. “Without forces to counterbalance our considerable powers, we do a remarkably thorough job of fighting among ourselves. Our greatest threat is not mortals – it comes from unbridled ambition among our own.” He paused. “And it is against the law of the Elders for you and your brood to attack me, or those under my protection.”
“Then put the matter to a vote.” Reese’s voice had become steel. “I trust the Elders’ wisdom.”
“Is that why you have a company of men and
talishte
gathered just beyond our gathering?” the Wraith Lord asked in a dangerously flat tone. “Did you plan to force the matter? Or did you think I could not tell that you were lying?”
“I came here to apprehend Penhallow and his servant, assuming you let them live after discovering Penhallow’s deception,” Reese replied.
“Penhallow is not on trial, nor has he used deception.” The Wraith Lord’s voice was cold, and Connor felt the immortal’s mood shift like a gathering storm. While Connor doubted that the Wraith Lord cared for Penhallow or about their safety, he was quite certain that their host was growing angrier by the moment at Reese’s provocation.
“Leave this place,” the Wraith Lord said to Reese. “Do not come again unbidden.”
“Don’t be too certain of the Elders’ support,” Reese replied with a smirk. “We aren’t finished.” He disappeared in a burst of
talishte
speed.
No sooner had Reese left them than a dozen armed men swarmed toward them, swords flashing. In the distance, they could hear the guards fighting a battle of their own.
Penhallow drew his sword and squared off against one of Reese’s fighters, another
talishte
, judging from the speed with which the attacker moved.
I’m a dead man
, Connor thought as fighting erupted around him.
If an arrow doesn’t get me, a
talishte
certainly will.
He drew his sword, fighting down panic, and braced himself for an attack.
“Are you truly Penhallow’s man?” The Wraith Lord’s voice sounded in Connor’s ears, although he was not entirely sure the words had been spoken aloud.
“Yes,” Connor replied. “I am.”
“I have need of your body.” With that, cold mist enveloped Connor. He felt as if he had just stepped into the thickest fog that cut off both sight and hearing. Pain flared as fangs punctured his shoulder, and Connor gasped. An instant later, he felt a dizzying shift. Vertigo dazed him, and he stumbled.
Such a strong, young form.
The Wraith Lord’s voice sounded inside Connor’s mind. One of Reese’s men came at Connor, and Connor watched in amazement as his body seemed to move of its own accord. With the practiced grace of a skilled swordsman, he parried the attack, then went on the offensive, executing a series of quick parries and thrusts that Connor was quite certain he had never learned.