Last part of the chapter.
All of the chapter will follow in the next post.
“No less than those of the Phoenix, as far as my tower is concerned. The Draconic Order will be more than enough for the force intervening in the Lendranian war, if we can get the support of your Gwayhîrians as well,” Mora answered proudly. The Aelomancers had only one batallion of war mages, who they called after the great Eagle of legend, Gwayhîr. The Pyromancer’s tower was responsible for most of Carenath’s militaristic organization, but the Gwayhîrians were as powerful as the mightiest wizards of the flame, or more so. They could raise storms, it was said, that were so magnificent they shook the very earth.
“You will, though I doubt you will require them. Still, there will likely be less blood spilt if we advance more firepower – we Aelomancers can shackle our opponents and hold them motionless, as you know.” So that took care of that.
“The Draconic and Gwayhîric Order it is. The Council has decided.” Derlen Lightweaver said, scratching a point off his list. “And the Order of the Phoenix will leave to guard the stone.” The Draconians might be more powerful, but those of the Phoenix were renowned for their stamina, hardy even among soldiers, let alone mages.
“Oh, and send word to all mages under our command that the rebellion is not to be interfered with on either side. That includes the Royal Wizards.”
“Will the King not be angry about that?”
“He will, but he will do nothing before he knows the reason. And that will take some time yet, should Canae grant it.”
“That leaves only a single matter,” Derlen spoke with all the satisfaction of having finished with another of these pesky meetings.
“The covert envoy to be sent to the rebels,” Tarla commented.
Derlen nodded. “Yes. We need one who is an experienced scout as well as a powerful wizard. I suggest an Aventer.” Aventer was the title of a mage who had attained the ninth of the twelve circles. They were known for cunning, most of them were known for prowess and power, and some for wisdom. “I know just the man. Morinan-Wo.” There was a silence, then an excited whisper. Morinan-Wo! If half the stories were to be true...
“Morinan-Wo? The one they call the Nightbird?” Mora was incredulous. Morinan-Wo, the Nightbird of the Sixth. He walks here and there they say, seen and unseen, his path uncrossable, his enemies sure to be dead ere the moon has cycled.
“Exactly the one, Mora. Ayin, I shall require you to contact him and summon him to the tower. Bid him to come swiftly, as swiftly as his art can contrive.” Ayin raised his eyebrows, raising his hand to the side of his forehead questioningly. “No, not right now. Tell him to make it another two hours at least.”
“I suggest you send two.” The naturally soft voice came quietly over the table, but it met with absolute silence. When Ana spoke, she was usually saying something important. Moreover, when she spoke quietly, the importance of what she was saying was inversely related to the volume of her voice. The voice of the archmagus of the Fifth rarely went unheard; and she whose name in the Ancient was Light had never had need to raise it.
“Are you sure of this, Ana?” Mina asked. “To call Morinan-Wo competent would be an understatement; he is known for his excellence in stealth missions.”
“I know, Mina. Nonetheless, I see failure, should we send the Nightbird alone. I could not imagine how, but I see he shall have need of a companion. I have rarely seen wrong, as you well know.”
‘Never’, she should have said, the wind sorceress corrected in her mind.
“A healer, of the Fourth, I believe...” Ana was talking to herself, and, “A Terkian, but I do not know her name.” Mina replied, without even pausing, that it seemed as if one, not two, had spoken. A far-off look had entered her eyes, and she gazed off into space. Those of the light and of the wind were both gifted with the perception the Goddess’ thoughts, and thus were on occasion granted brief, vague glimpses of the future.
“I do.” Derlen retorted before he even knew what he was saying. “I have talked to her this morning.”
And with that, the Thing of the Elders was over. It was over as if by some pre-arranged signal, and all at once all of the Elders were shuffling their agenda together in the manner of every member of every council that had ever existed in the world, who was just preparing to leave a meeting.
“Fellow members of our Order, Wise and Learned Elders, our conference is adjourned,” Derlen added, uselessly, for the mages were already standing up and moving for the door. “May the Balance forever be kept in this world, and the Light shield us all.” The customary phrases for the adjournment of any meeting of the Magi.
He waited for them to file out of the great hall, then sat there for a long time, after he was alone at the end of the long oaken table, sitting alone in the murky stone hall of the center tower.
“Light shield us all...”, he repeated softly, remaining seated. He buried his forehead in his palm, one elbow resting on the table.
“Us all...”
“No less than those of the Phoenix, as far as my tower is concerned. The Draconic Order will be more than enough for the force intervening in the Lendranian war, if we can get the support of your Gwayhîrians as well,” Mora answered proudly. The Aelomancers had only one batallion of war mages, who they called after the great Eagle of legend, Gwayhîr. The Pyromancer’s tower was responsible for most of Carenath’s militaristic organization, but the Gwayhîrians were as powerful as the mightiest wizards of the flame, or more so. They could raise storms, it was said, that were so magnificent they shook the very earth.
“You will, though I doubt you will require them. Still, there will likely be less blood spilt if we advance more firepower – we Aelomancers can shackle our opponents and hold them motionless, as you know.” So that took care of that.
“The Draconic and Gwayhîric Order it is. The Council has decided.” Derlen Lightweaver said, scratching a point off his list. “And the Order of the Phoenix will leave to guard the stone.” The Draconians might be more powerful, but those of the Phoenix were renowned for their stamina, hardy even among soldiers, let alone mages.
“Oh, and send word to all mages under our command that the rebellion is not to be interfered with on either side. That includes the Royal Wizards.”
“Will the King not be angry about that?”
“He will, but he will do nothing before he knows the reason. And that will take some time yet, should Canae grant it.”
“That leaves only a single matter,” Derlen spoke with all the satisfaction of having finished with another of these pesky meetings.
“The covert envoy to be sent to the rebels,” Tarla commented.
Derlen nodded. “Yes. We need one who is an experienced scout as well as a powerful wizard. I suggest an Aventer.” Aventer was the title of a mage who had attained the ninth of the twelve circles. They were known for cunning, most of them were known for prowess and power, and some for wisdom. “I know just the man. Morinan-Wo.” There was a silence, then an excited whisper. Morinan-Wo! If half the stories were to be true...
“Morinan-Wo? The one they call the Nightbird?” Mora was incredulous. Morinan-Wo, the Nightbird of the Sixth. He walks here and there they say, seen and unseen, his path uncrossable, his enemies sure to be dead ere the moon has cycled.
“Exactly the one, Mora. Ayin, I shall require you to contact him and summon him to the tower. Bid him to come swiftly, as swiftly as his art can contrive.” Ayin raised his eyebrows, raising his hand to the side of his forehead questioningly. “No, not right now. Tell him to make it another two hours at least.”
“I suggest you send two.” The naturally soft voice came quietly over the table, but it met with absolute silence. When Ana spoke, she was usually saying something important. Moreover, when she spoke quietly, the importance of what she was saying was inversely related to the volume of her voice. The voice of the archmagus of the Fifth rarely went unheard; and she whose name in the Ancient was Light had never had need to raise it.
“Are you sure of this, Ana?” Mina asked. “To call Morinan-Wo competent would be an understatement; he is known for his excellence in stealth missions.”
“I know, Mina. Nonetheless, I see failure, should we send the Nightbird alone. I could not imagine how, but I see he shall have need of a companion. I have rarely seen wrong, as you well know.”
‘Never’, she should have said, the wind sorceress corrected in her mind.
“A healer, of the Fourth, I believe...” Ana was talking to herself, and, “A Terkian, but I do not know her name.” Mina replied, without even pausing, that it seemed as if one, not two, had spoken. A far-off look had entered her eyes, and she gazed off into space. Those of the light and of the wind were both gifted with the perception the Goddess’ thoughts, and thus were on occasion granted brief, vague glimpses of the future.
“I do.” Derlen retorted before he even knew what he was saying. “I have talked to her this morning.”
And with that, the Thing of the Elders was over. It was over as if by some pre-arranged signal, and all at once all of the Elders were shuffling their agenda together in the manner of every member of every council that had ever existed in the world, who was just preparing to leave a meeting.
“Fellow members of our Order, Wise and Learned Elders, our conference is adjourned,” Derlen added, uselessly, for the mages were already standing up and moving for the door. “May the Balance forever be kept in this world, and the Light shield us all.” The customary phrases for the adjournment of any meeting of the Magi.
He waited for them to file out of the great hall, then sat there for a long time, after he was alone at the end of the long oaken table, sitting alone in the murky stone hall of the center tower.
“Light shield us all...”, he repeated softly, remaining seated. He buried his forehead in his palm, one elbow resting on the table.
“Us all...”
posted by Arancaytar at Tuesday, November 09, 2004
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