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Authors: Jim Galford

Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #Furry

Sunset of Lantonne (47 page)

BOOK: Sunset of Lantonne
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“It is agreed,” the elemental finally answered. The staff in Turess’s hands flickered in Therec’s vision, the magic that allowed him to see the scene unable to properly show him the staff during that moment. “We will answer the call to strike at a foe. Beyond that, you have no pledge from the elementals of stone.” The giant stone elemental then collapsed, the magic holding it together gone back to wherever it had come from.

In the minute of crashing stones, Turess and his companions fled away from the area to avoid being crushed. Once things had settled again, the five gave each other hugs and cheered at their accomplishment.

“Well done, Turess,” said Therec, grinning as if he were part of the celebration. “A deal with the stone elementals. That’s quite a feat.”

He waited patiently for the vision to end, but it did not. Instead, the group before him settled down and began waiting again, resuming much the same posturing they had held when the vision started. All of their nervousness had returned as well.

Soon, the air began to buzz, causing Therec’s ears ring and his skin itch. The intensity of the sensation grew until his hair stood on end and his clothing crackled with static. Similar reactions were clearly visible on all of the people in the vision, though the wildling woman seemed the worst off, wincing as sparks danced across her fur.

As abruptly as the stone elemental had appeared, this time the air condensed into a massive being made of a combination of solid air like glass and crackling lightning. The being slowly reshaped itself until it had the barest resemblance of a human body.

“Welcome back,” shouted Turess, stepping forward. “Your task is complete.”

Therec watched the air elemental turn and walk toward the giant crater where the stone elemental had been minutes earlier. It circled the area, then came back to face Turess and his companions. “Impressive,” answered the elemental, making the air snap with static each time it uttered a word. “I did not think you could drive off the lord of stone without aid. The stone lord has destroyed far more powerful beings than you for simply speaking in its presence. My beliefs in mortal beings has been proven wrong.”

Turess’s smile hinted at conspiracy, but while Therec knew how to read human body language, the elemental could not.

Stepping forward to tower over the group, the air elemental said, “I wagered against you, human. You have already named your price of victory. Do you still wish it?”

Bowing before the elemental, Turess advanced and raised his staff as he had for the stone elemental. “I still wish it. One visit from you and whatever forces you need to battle one foe at the request of myself or my heirs.”

The elemental reached toward Turess, its enormous hand nearly engulfing him. When it neared the staff, sparks and tiny bolts of lightning crackled between its palm and the wood of the staff. After several seconds, the elemental took its hand away.

“It is done, mortal. Do not call on me or my army again until you are ready to use up that gift.” Before Turess could reply, the elemental dissipated into thin air, taking the raw energy that filled the area with it.

“Two down, two to go,” Dorralt said once the group had relaxed again. “Are we really that lucky, Turess? Should we even try? If either of them refuses, we have already lost.”

Turess grinned and turned his back on Therec as he replied. “We’ve been lucky because we did everything right. I am staying through the visits of fire and water, whether you wish to remain here or not. I already know Kharali’s decision. What of the rest of you?”

Almost immediately, the orc dropped to one knee in front of Turess. “I will follow you wherever you lead,” the orc said in a gruff voice. He thumped his large fist against the chest plate of his armor hard enough for Therec to realize he had no desire to ever be struck by an orc. “You have my life.”

“Always overly formal, On’esquin. Thank you again, friend,” said Turess, touching the orc’s shoulder.

With a sneer, Dorralt and the other human turned and walked away, heading toward the east. The unstable vision wavered as they got farther away, and soon they vanished, the vision no longer bothering to follow them.

Turess stared off in the direction Dorralt had gone, then asked, “Did you truly mean to oppose your own master? He will be angry with you a long time.”

“I have never lied in saying that I follow you, even if my lessons come from him,” On’esquin confessed. Standing, he continued, “Let him be angry. There is little more his cowardice and pride can teach me, anyway. I would rather die here, fighting to keep both of you alive than to walk away and spend my days questioning my own resolve.”

Therec noticed the snow was melting around him and the remaining three people in the vision. He began to turn, catching a huge ball of flame at the edge of his sight right before the vision crumbled around him.

Collapsing to the floor of his room, Therec gasped and wheezed and tried to make his head stop spinning. He felt blood trickling down his face from his nose and his heart was racing, but he could not bring himself to even try to pull together enough healing energy to mend himself. His body would barely function through the exhaustion the vision had forced on him.

Therec cursed and rolled onto his back, wondering how much more there had been of the vision. His body had failed him, and he doubted he had the strength to survive a longer vision. It would take someone far stronger to see the whole scene unfold, though he had at least gotten a good idea what he had found in the staff.

“Sir,” came a voice from outside the room’s door, accompanied by a gentle rapping on the door itself, “you have missed the midday meal. I wished to make sure that you are well.”

Laughing, Therec reached over with a shaking arm to pick up the staff and pull it onto his chest. Now that he knew what to search for in it, he could feel the ties to the four elements within the wood beneath his fingers, pulsing like raw magic. None of the boons had been used by Turess.

“I am quite well,” he called back to the servant. “I will come down shortly.”

Therec pressed his forehead against the cool wood of the staff, trying not to laugh hysterically. With this weapon Dorralt and his kind would fall, and Therec could restore Turessi to its former glory. Four elemental lords could probably tear Eldvar apart and ensure nothing the fallen Turessians like Dorralt did would matter. The war between Altis and Lantonne would be over and the true winner would be Therec himself.

He would see Lantonne through to victory, and then the heirs of Turess would reclaim the nations that once flew their banners. He could march on Turessi to see to the safety of his family, if they still lived, and he would march on the council and destroy them if they did not act to save the clans.

The northern lands would bow before him, as they had to Turess millennia before. He could see it as clearly in his mind as if it were a memory and not a hope.

Someday, he would be seen as the next Turess.

Chapter Thirteen

“Departure”

Ilarra sat on the windowsill of her room in the keep, watching the heavy snowfall outside cover the city in a blanket of white. The two months since she had arrived in Lantonne had gone slowly, bringing more winter weather with each passing day and little else to pay attention to, other than her own thoughts. At times, she forgot that the season was getting late, and soon the storms might break and leave the plains green and lush with the arrival of spring.

“You managed to avoid using your magic for a full week. That is progress.”

She smiled to herself and did not look away from the city. Day after day, the man had loomed in her room, offering unwanted suggestions.

“I spent my whole life looking forward to finding new ways to use magic,” she replied, leaning on the windowsill. The cold air no longer bothered her. “This hasn’t been easy.”

Each day when Raeln and Greth would leave to practice with the keep’s soldiers—a concession Ilarra believed Therec had made simply to get them away from her—Nenophar would appear in her room. Every time, the door was locked and the guards outside heard nothing.

When Nenophar remained silent, Ilarra turned on him. “Are you going to tell me whether my father’s alright? Whether I am? Nearly two months you’ve been coming here, tormenting me, but you haven’t helped at all.”

“Haven’t I?” asked the man. As always, his expression was so neutral it was unreadable. “Do you understand what the man was that came to your village?”

“No…a necromancer or something. Greth knows better than I do. I think he said the man was from the same place as Therec.”

“Not at all. The man you saw was from somewhere else, but the spirit controlling his actions did come from the lands of Turessi. What he did to you is the same thing he has done to thousands across several nations, with Altis being the most recent. He intends to control you and that is something I cannot allow.”

“Then go save my father. He has the same disease…”

Nenophar shook his head. “This is no disease. This is magic and alchemy twisted to act like a disease. Your father’s thread in the pattern is being unraveled as surely as your own, but unlike him, I know the place your thread belongs. If you are strong enough, we may be able to undo the damage to the whole fabric.”

“Stop talking about fabric!” she shouted back at him, wondering not for the first time why the guards outside did not run in. “Every damned day you babble about threads and fabric, and it makes no sense! Tell me what is happening without all the nonsense!”

The door of the room swung inwards and Raeln came in and gave Ilarra a half-hearted smile. He pointed to where he had left his cloak behind with a sheepish smirk to say he had forgotten it, then took the garment and left, closing the door behind himself. Not once did he even glance toward Nenophar, despite nearly walking over top of him.

“Are you even here?” asked Ilarra once she was certain Raeln was far enough away she would not be heard. “Am I imagining all of this?”

“I am here in a sense,” replied Nenophar. “I am also somewhere else, as I’m afraid I could not bring my physical body with me. That, people like Therec would notice. Until you are ready, there is no reason to alert them.”

“Then make me ready. I’m tired of being a prisoner and not being told what’s happening in Hyeth. Therec said he sent people there to help my father, but he won’t talk about it anymore…”

“If you continue to worry about individuals, you will never be ready,” the man noted, shaking his head sadly. “Your brother…what are your thoughts about him?”

Ilarra felt an immediate rush of anger, both at Nenophar for changing topics and at Raeln himself. She saw him as a hindrance, keeping her from knowing what this man could tell her. She thought over all the dozens of times Raeln had gotten in the way, made her life difficult, and even the simple fact that the bond with him was shortening her life. All of this she fought down within herself, trying to bury the absurd feelings.

“You do not need to answer,” said Nenophar. “I can see your dislike for him and his kind growing. Two months and their influence is already getting strong. I had thought there would be more time, but time has never been something I can gauge properly.”

“Their? What are you talking about?”

“The Turessians that did this to you. So long as you are far from me, only your brother fully prevents them from controlling you like all the others. I would prefer to delay showing you anything until you are stronger, but I am limited by their influence. We may have to move forward, despite my opinion of your readiness.”

“And if we don’t move forward?”

Nenophar looked toward the closed door. “Anger comes first, usually against family or a dear friend. When you let your guard down, you’ll brutally murder that person…your brother I would think…and be unable to stop yourself, watching helplessly as you do so. The guilt will consume you, destroying what is left of your resolve. Then, they will own you. This is how they have done things for many years.”

Ilarra’s mind drifted to the old man that had come to Hyeth and the things he had said about the shell “needing to see.”

BOOK: Sunset of Lantonne
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