The Last Talisman (3 page)

He sees into my soul, he can read my thoughts. …
“Yes,” Sennar admitted.

“I will, for as long as I can,” said Megisto. “But know that I disapprove.”

“All that matters is that you protect her from the truth. I have no other choice.”

Megisto stood. “Be careful, at least.”

Sennar left at dawn the following day. Megisto had already turned back to stone and the three of them had a few moments alone.

Sennar had gotten everything ready. He'd tossed his meager belongings into a sack and laid a few long, fibrous strips on the ground, taken from deep green leaves. On each, in blue, he'd traced the figure of a rune. It was the most powerful containment spell he knew.

“Give me the amulet,” he said to Nihal.

She handed it to him. The moment it touched Sennar's fingers, the stone from the Land of Water grew dark, and Sennar could feel the strength draining from his limbs. He gripped the talisman tightly in his fist and did his best to mask his weakness. Then he turned and lay the medallion on top of the leaves. The moment it left his hand, the stone regained its color.

Sennar wrapped the amulet in the leaves and began reciting a litany. When he finished, he once again picked up the amulet and, smiling, held it out for Nihal to see. “See, it's harmless now.”

Nihal's expression didn't change. “Don't do this. In two days' time, I'll be on my feet again.”

Sennar threw his sack over his shoulder. “Once I have the stone, I'll send word where you can find me. Don't worry, I know this is the right decision,” he said.

“Be careful,” Laio warned.

Nihal sat up from her bed of straw and hugged him. She kissed his cheek and, before letting him go, whispered in his ear: “Don't die.”

Sennar turned abruptly and set off upon his journey.

4

Sennar in the Land of the Sea

After four days of trudging through the snow, Sennar entered his native land and found himself in the Maritime Forest. The salt air carried memories of his childhood.

Only on the fifth day of travel did he finally recognize the true enormity of his lie to Nihal. As he pulled something out of his sack, he noticed a strange smoke rising from his pocket. He plunged in his hand and withdrew the talisman. The medallion was eating away at the leaves and a part of the stone from the Land of Water was now visible. The sorcerer could feel his energy being sucked into the amulet, and once again the stone was a murky, menacing color.

Sennar acted quickly. He threw the medallion to the ground and gathered fresh leaves. Once the amulet was safely rewrapped, he resumed his journey.

Within a day and a half, he reached Laia, his mother's birthplace, which he'd never seen. A village that reminded him of where he'd spent the first years of his life appeared before his eyes. It was tiny and cozy, rich with the pungent smell of sea salt. The windows of the houses were barred and there wasn't a soul in sight.

The village overlooked one of the many fascinating peculiarities of that land, the Little Sea. From the Gulf of Barahar, water flowed inland to form a small sea. It was afternoon when Sennar arrived at the body of water, which resembled a vast salt lake. Its silvery waters reflected gray skies. The wind had picked up, and the clouds threatened a storm.

That evening, Sennar took shelter at a small inn, a wood-and-stone building that jutted out over the sea. It was a miserable, ramshackle place, nothing more than a circular lobby, a shoddy bench here and there, but the beer was good, and so was the price. As he enjoyed the night view of the Little Sea, flurries of snow falling slowly upon the mirror of water, Sennar thought about the route he'd take the next morning. Nihal had said to head east, so maybe the sanctuary was on the other side of the peninsula. He'd need to reach the coast as quickly as possible, and the most direct route would take him through Barahar, the largest port in the Land of the Sea. Once there, he'd walk the shoreline and cross his fingers.

He woke early the next morning and sought out the innkeeper, a large, ruddy woman whose skin glittered with sweat and chest burst out of her blouse. When he found her, she was busy polishing glasses with such force that Sennar was amazed they did not shatter in her hands. Without mincing words, he asked if she knew of a place of spires.

“I think I've heard mention of it before, a sort of cliff,” she mused.

“Do you know where?”

The innkeeper shook her head. “I haven't the slightest idea, I'm sorry. I don't believe it's near here, though.”

Sennar resumed his journey. The last rooftops of Laia faded in the distance behind him. Before him stretched an immense, snow-covered plain that ran from the Little Sea to the coastline.

For three nights, Sennar slept beneath the stars, and on the morning of the fourth day, he saw Barahar materialize against the intense blue of the sea.

He lost an hour or two heading south in order to reach the bridge that crossed the strait and arrived at last at the gates of Barahar. Sculpted from one enormous block of marble, they were grand and imposing. Sennar passed through them, worn and famished. He had never felt smaller or more lost in his life.

Sennar was familiar with the Land of the Sea's villages, suspended between land and water, lashed by waves in the winter and nourished by fish in warmer seasons. The city that now stretched before him was grand and uninviting. A thousand other odors masked the ocean's scent. Sennar recognized the architecture, brick-and-mortar houses with thatched roofs and larger, stone buildings. But the rest of the cityscape was unfamiliar: wide orderly roads instead of the usual labyrinth of narrow streets and alleys; giant, square-shaped plazas rather than the tiny, circular churchyards so common in the smaller villages. Most unfamiliar of all were the men and women, busy and unwelcoming, unlike the polite, kind-hearted people that Sennar was used to meeting in his land.

Now that he'd finally reached the coast, Sennar was uncertain of what to do. The sanctuary might even be there, its famed spires stretching upward near Barahar, but how could he know?

For the greater part of the morning, he wandered the city streets in search of someone who might be able to point him in the right direction, but no one he met was of any help. Only one old merchant claimed to have heard of the spires and that they lay somewhere to the east, perhaps in Lome.

When Sennar entered the last inn, he was desperate for something to eat. Unfortunately, he was penniless.

The innkeeper was a squat, bald fellow with the bulging belly of a man well used to lifting mugs. He took pity on Sennar. “Come back at the end of the night and I'll pass you some of the leftovers,” he said.

Sennar thanked him.

“I can't promise you anything, though,” he added, immediately after. “There's been a bit of traffic in here these days, with soldiers always coming and going.”

“Soldiers? Was there an attack?”

“No, nothing of the sort,” the innkeeper replied. “A strange group of soldiers just arrived. They docked at our port late last night. They claim to be from the Underworld, but no one really knows who they are.”

“At the port, did you say? How do I get there?”

The man eyed Sennar suspiciously. “When you go out, take a right. Then just head straight …” Before he could finish his sentence, the boy had disappeared.

So the troops had arrived at last. The long-awaited reinforcements. As he hurried toward the port, Sennar thought of all the people he'd met in Zalenia: Count Varen; the king; Nereo … Ondine. He wanted to see with his own eyes the soldiers who'd come to help and whose presence in the Overworld was the fruit of his efforts. He followed the innkeeper's directions and soon heard the steady sound of the waves.

He saw their ships right away, fifty of them, long and grand, with the sleek, transparent elegance characteristic of Zalenia. They stretched back in long columns along the port, sails lowered. The soldiers wore extremely light armor and carried long, thin swords and lances that hung at their sides. Though they reminded him of the less-than-sympathetic guards who'd mistreated him in Zalenia, he caught himself missing the Underworld.

A person aboard one of the ships noticed Sennar enjoying the view of the flotilla and stepped down to greet him. “I knew we'd meet again.”

Sennar swung around. He knew that voice. When he saw Count Varen standing beside him it was as if he had run into an old friend. The count still made for a robust, imposing figure, his thinning hair tied back in a ponytail, as was the way of his people, but his once snow-white skin was now amber colored. A good bit of time must have passed since they'd surfaced from Zalenia. Forgetting all ceremony, Sennar wrapped his arms around the count, who returned his hug with equal vigor.

The count invited him back to one of the ship's cabins. It was a dimly lit room, glowing with the same azure hue that pervaded Zalenia. Varen moved with ease in the semi-dark and raised a bottle filled with a purplish liquid. Shark, Sennar thought to himself. It'd been a year since he'd last had a sip.

The count filled two glasses. “One of my soldiers brought this back for me last night. He says it's the drink of choice around here.”

Sennar smiled. “A wise man.”

The count tossed back the contents of his glass in a single gulp. Sennar tried following his lead, but when the alcohol assaulted his throat, he had to strain to keep from coughing.

“I never imagined it'd be quite so bright up here,” said the count. “I don't think I'll get used to it.”

“Don't worry,” Sennar reassured him, refilling his glass. “I managed to get used to the blue light of your land. It's only a matter of time.”

The count rested his paternal gaze on Sennar. “I didn't know the Council met here in the Land of the Sea,” said Varen.

Sennar sighed. “In truth, the Council was set to convene in the Land of Water this year, but as you must have learned by now, most of the territory has fallen into the Tyrant's hands, and they were forced to flee.”

“I've been told about the army of the dead,” Varen said grimly. “Many of my men are worried.” He poured himself a second glass and eyed the sorcerer. “Why aren't you with the Council right now?”

“I'm no longer a councilor.”

“They kicked you out?”

Sennar smiled. “No, I left of my own will.”

Varen cast him an inquisitive gaze. Sennar averted his eyes, staring up at the light as it filtered in through the gaps in the wooden boards above the porthole. “I have a new mission to complete now,” he explained, and the amulet seemed to grow heavier inside his pocket. “In order to do so, I was forced to take a brief leave from my post in the Land of the Wind.”

“Brief,” the count repeated, his voice curling up in inflection. “Which means you'll be reinstated as a councilor when you return?”

“Yes,” Sennar lied. “What about you? How is it you ended up here?”

The count smiled. “After you left, I returned to my duties in Sakana, and for a time, everything went smoothly. But then I felt a change inside of me, something I couldn't quite pinpoint. … All of a sudden my life seemed petty and empty. I was bored. I looked toward the sky, up beyond the water's surface, and thought that up there, among the clouds I'd never seen before, people were fighting. In the end, I realized this was the life I wanted, the challenge I needed to face. So I convinced His Highness to appoint me head of the army.”

Sennar stared down at his glass and ran his finger along the rim. He couldn't resist. “And what about Ondine?” he asked.

“After you left, I did as you had requested and made sure she traveled among my company back to Sakana.”

“And … how did she seem?”

“She was truly sad.”

Sennar lowered his gaze.

“I suggested she become an attendant at my palace. It would be better than looking after prisoners. At first, she declined the offer. She didn't want to abandon her parents. But in the end I persuaded her.”

Sennar went on tracing the rim of his glass with his finger. Then he tossed back the glass of Shark in one quick motion.

“I never did understand why you left her back in Zalenia,” the count went on. “I know you had feelings for her, and that she felt the same for you.”

The thought of Ondine warmed Sennar's heart. He'd have liked to see her childlike face again, her soft hair, her pink lips. But he knew he'd only end up hurting her even worse.

“She requested that I ask you something, if I ever ran into you,” the count added. Sennar met his gaze. “She wanted me to ask if you'd kept the promise you made to her, and to tell you that if you hadn't, she'd have her revenge some day.”

The sorcerer smiled. “To be honest, no. I haven't really lived up to my word, but this journey is part of that promise. When you see her again, though, please tell her that yes, I've kept it. That I'm happy now.”

The count smiled back, only to turn serious again a moment later. “Sennar, your clothes are filthy and you look famished. Tell me the truth. What's going on with you? What is this mission you're on?”

The sorcerer didn't know how to reply. The count was a man who deserved to know the truth, but Sennar's mission was too sensitive to share even with him.

“I'm sorry, but I just can't tell you. The purpose of my voyage must remain a secret.”

“I'm not asking you out of mere curiosity,” the count explained. “I'm worried about you. And I'd like to help, if I can.”

“Yes, perhaps you can help me.”

“Just tell me how,” said Varen.

“I'm heading to a place located along the coast. Until now, I've traveled by foot across the Land of Water. A horse would be an incredible help.”

The count leaned back in his seat, considering Sennar's request. “Today, in fact, I have a meeting with General Falere, the officer in command of the troops in the Land of the Sea. If you come along with me, I'll ask him if it's at all possible for a Dragon Knight to accompany you.”

Taken aback, Sennar set his glass down hard on the table. “A Dragon Knight? But the knights are all off at war! … I was only asking for a horse, that's all. … I don't think …”

The count leaned in closer to Sennar. “How important is your mission, as far as the war is concerned? It has to do with the war, doesn't it?”

“My mission is of vital importance,” Sennar affirmed.

The count leaned back again in his chair. “Well then, a knight to serve as an escort is hardly too much to ask,” he said, proceeding to down his last drop of Shark.

In the afternoon, with something in his stomach at last, Sennar accompanied the count on his visit to Falere.

The general arrived on a marvelous dragon. When Sennar saw it descending from the sky he was all but overcome with emotion.

It was a Blue Dragon. Sennar hadn't seen one since he was a little boy. It was smaller than the dragons used by the regular Dragon Knights and resembled a snake. It had a long and slender body; slight and agile legs; and two enormous, membranous wings folded at its sides. Its body was a pale and brilliant blue, its wings a darker shade. Sennar had grown up around dragons like this. His father had been the squire for a Blue Dragon Knight. Now he stood entranced at the sight, which brought back distant memories.

For a general, Falere was rather young, with fair hair and a nondescript air about him. His face was full of freckles. A long scar ran down the left side of his face. He bowed respectfully to his guests and regarded Sennar with suspicion.

“My guest here, Sennar, serves on the Council of Sorcerers in the Land of the Wind,” the count hurried to explain.

It was too late for Sennar to step in and correct him. Perhaps the general already knew that the Councilor of the Land of the Wind was now Soana. Sennar, worried, noted that Falere had now assumed an astonished expression.