The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour (27 page)

Suddenly Torus was beside her, wrapping her torso i
n a long strip of white cloth he had taken from his pack. Perhaps she was a little delirious, but Tiadaria found the size of his pack, a pack that met the full measure of the mammoth man, comical. She couldn’t help herself and she started laughing.

“She’s in shock,” Torus cried to the
quints. They had just finished magically reinforcing the bridge they had crossed and rushed to his side. Tia waved them off.

“I’m alright. The only thing shocked is my sense of the absurd.” She took a deep breath, wincing as the action made her chest hurt. The pain sobered her quickly. “How did you know we were here?”

“
I
didn’t. Lacrymosa showed up at the infirmary in Blackbeach with Faxon mostly dead. She told Adamon where you were and what she thought you were after. So here we are.” Torus gave her a shrewd look. “Was there really a dragon here?”

While Tia was trying to process his question, the rest of his statement sunk in. “Adamon? Adamon!
It’s good to see you again.”

The
quintessentialist drew back his hood and nodded in her direction. At least some things didn’t change. She still got nervous around an Inquisitor and Adamon still treated her as if he knew something she wasn’t telling. The sooner this was over, the better.

“Yes, a white dragon, with violet eyes. We heard it in our heads. It was talking to the Xarundi, but didn’t stick around on their behalf.”

Torus shook his head. “This is bad. We need to get you back to Blackbeach and I need to get back to Dragonfell.”

“How are we getting back to civilization,” Wynn asked. He sounded so tired.

Torus glanced at the apprentice and for an instant, Tia thought he was appraising the young man’s suitableness for her, but the expression was so fleeting she dismissed it as a trick of her exhausted mind.

“We brought a runner-sled. Sort of a big wagon with
rails and fast horses. We...um...borrowed them, from Overwatch. We’ll return them and gate-walk back.”

“First you’ll need to secure the prisoner, Torus.” Adamon motioned toward the motionless hulk of the injured Xarundi.

“Of course.” Torus took a steel collar and manacles from his pack. In short order, Zarfensis was secured for transport.

Not wanting to rely only on the inhibition of steel, Adamon and the other
quintessentialists performed a ritual that would prevent the Xarundi from calling on the sphere. Only when the ritual was complete would Adamon allow them to leave the cavern. He flipped up his hood and stalked off ahead, preceding them from the chamber.

The ascension to the mouth of the tunnels was long and difficult, hampered by the fact that Torus was dragging the unconscious body of a several hundred pound Xarundi behind him the entire way. They were exhausted when
they reached the sled. However, the horses were swift and made the journey back to Overwatch go by quickly.

No one said very much. They were too worried, too hurt, or too tired.

The large silver bell above the Great Tower of High Magic pealed loudly and nearly everyone in Blackbeach stopped to look toward the great obsidian monolith. From where Tiadaria sat by the entrance, the sound was nearly deafening. She could feel it through the low rock wall that surrounded the ornamental gardens. She felt it in her tailbone and all the way up into her spine. The wide doors that sealed the tower were pushed back and the conclave, all the masters in every order, began to make their way up the sloping path from the bowels of the tower.

She caught sight of Wynn and jumped down off the wall, running to intercept him. They veered away from the main group, slipping down the alley between the tower and the library.

“Well?” she demanded imperiously.

Wynn gave her a measured look, then broke into a wide grin.

“The conclave has confirmed me as a master, with all the rights and privileges of such. They said that I show more than enough aptitude to hold the rank, but recommended that I remain in Blackbeach for some remedial courses in applied theory.”

“Master Wynn. It suits you.”
Tiadaria punched him affectionately in the shoulder and he winced. Master or not, he was still hers to abuse and she’d see to it that it remained that way. She took his hand, no longer conflicted about how she felt about the young mage and relishing in the thrill of excitement that the link-shock sent through her body. Tia pulled him out of the alley and turned down a wide lane.

“Where are we going?” Wynn asked, though he suspected he knew the answer already. She’d want Faxon to hear the news, as if the bell hadn’t told him enough already.

“The infirmary,” Tiadaria said, confirming his guess. “Faxon said you weren’t to return to Ethergate without seeing him first.”

Wynn stopped short, peering at Tia with undisguised curiosity. “
I’m going back to Ethergate?”

“You’re not? I’d assumed that after you were confirmed you’d want to go back home.”

He caught her around the waist, drawing her body into his and pressing his lips to hers. When he released her, she sighed. No longer was he the timid mage afraid of taking chances. If nothing else, their time together had taught him that every moment was fleeting and to be taken advantage of.

“Home is wherever you are, Tia.”

She laid her hand against his cheek, her fingers caressing the creases of the now-healed scars. “I have a cottage in King’s Reach,” she said laughing. “But I don’t get to spend much time there.”

“I can’t promise that will change much,” Wynn said thoughtfully. “But we need somewhere to get away…somewhere private.”

“Master Wynn! You’re scandalous.”

“Not yet,” he said with a grin. “But I’m sure you can teach me.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the infirmary. Today was a day for celebrating the recovery of old friends and the excitement of new beginnings.

* * *

Zarfensis lay curled on the cold stone floor of his prison cell. He had been given basic medical care, provided with meat and water, and then left alone. The High Priest wasn’t sure how long he had been in the cell. With no outside windows it was impossible to tell the time of day. The heavy iron and steel bars that surrounded his enclosure caused a stabbing pain deep in his skull that made concentrating enough to slip into the sphere an impossibility.

So he tried to sleep as much as possible, tossing and turning on the rock, more often than not waking in a bli
nd panic from a dream that stayed with him after he awoke. A massive white dragon was aloft above the mountains, his great wings blocking out the sun and spreading darkness across the land.

No matter how Zarf
ensis tried to turn away from the beast, the dragon was never far from his thoughts. Was it only a dream, the Xarundi wondered, or had the dragon somehow left a part of its soul in his mind? It seemed that every time he closed his eyes, he was staring into the violet orbs of the dragon.

Zarfensis rolled over and curled his good knee up to his chest. The other leg was a twisted ruin of blackened metal and melted rubber. He closed his eyes, meeting the familiar gaze of the dragon and hearing the litany that had become as much a part of his heartbeat. He mouthed the words silently as they came into his head.

Stryne the Despicable. Stryne the Hated. Stryne the Forsaken.

“
Come to me,
” the voice inside his head echoed. The voice of command. “
Come to me and I will make you whole again and you will be my prophet.
”

The High Priest tried to push the voice from his mind and failed. Let the vermin kill me and end this, he thought frantically. He threw his head against the wall, knocking himself into peaceful unconsciousness.

Just before he slipped away, Zarfensis heard laughter.