The Magestone

17 Kasarian—events at Lormt (19th Day, Moon of the Knife/20th Day, Month of the Ice Dragon)

I had to concede privately that these Lormt folk were formidable plotters. Although they clearly disliked my proposal that Mereth should impersonate Volorian, once they had weighed our perilous situation, they began to offer inspired suggestions for implementing my plan. Initially, they appeared to be repelled by my various strategies to kill Gurborian if he could be lured to Krevonel Castle; then Duratan acknowledged that violence, however repugnant it was to them, might have to be employed. I wondered to myself how else they expected to acquire Elsenar’s jewel except by violence, but I did not utter the comment. We Alizonders knew to our sore cost that Estcarp’s male fighters were deadly in open warfare. I had to trust that they could be depended upon to wield a blade in defense of their own bodies, even if they shrank from planned assassination. Besides, if Mereth alone could accompany me, I could not rely too heavily upon her prowess with weapons. I should have to dispose of Gurborian myself.

I was considerably relieved to be allowed to resume my confiscated armaments. My uninvited residence at Lormt had been distinctly uncomfortable without their familiar weights and shapes close to hand. I informed Mereth that once we reached Krevonel Castle, I would provide the proper boots and arms to make her fully presentable.

The three of us—Morfew, Mereth, and I—toiled diligently for days until we felt reasonably certain that Mereth could pose as Volorian and not be swiftly exposed as an enemy pretender.

On the Nineteenth Day of the Moon of the Knife, Ouen judged that we must delay no longer, and led our party to the same vault into which I had been so abruptly thrust only thirteen days before. Duratan strewed his uncanny crystals on the stone paving. The blue gems among them fell into a tight oval pattern, as if they had been deliberately set in a cluster. I beheld no significance in the array, but he and the others evidently viewed the display as some sort of positive omen.

Morfew voiced the question that had also occurred to me. “Can we expect Elsenar’s postern to function only at that same hour of the night? It may be that the activating spell is time-linked. I was not present when the magical opening was visible, but Ouen pointed out for me the stone over which the access area formed, and we marked that stone for any future reference. I understand that all of you observed a disturbance in the air—a glowing light suspended above the floor. My eyes are not as keen as they once were, but I currently see nothing out of the ordinary about this space above the marked stone.”

The Wise Woman frowned at her rune-board. “Nor can I sense the flare of raw Power that initially drew us here before the postern opened. Do you feel aught, Nolar?” Duratan’s mate shook her head, and the Wise Woman turned to Mereth. “Perhaps if you touched Morfew’s marked stone,” she requested, “you might detect some information beyond our sensing.”

Mereth stooped and ran her fingers lightly over the expanse of paving that Morfew had indicated, but her witchly insight failed her on that occasion. She wrote on her slate that the stone produced no images in her mind.

Ouen reached in his belt scrip and withdrew . . . the elder’s key! “It may be that this key is needed as part of the spell,” he observed, extending it to me. “Were you holding the key in your hand at Krevonel Castle when you first became aware of the postern’s opening?”

I hesitated, reviewing my recollections. “Yes,” I confirmed, “I was holding the key, but my back was turned away from the center of the room. My eye was attracted by the strange light suddenly waxing behind me.”

“If only we knew more about how the ancient mages set their spells,” Duratan’s mate fretted. “No doubt they could conjure the opening whenever they required it, using special words or gestures.”

“I certainly employed no words or gestures,” I retorted, “nor did I know whither I was going.”

Morfew had been staring at the marked stone. “Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “if Kasarian stood upon this spot and envisioned the postern-linked chamber in Krevonel Castle, then the force of his mental focus might summon the access point.”

The Wise Woman nodded. “Assuming that the postern will accept more than one transient at a time,” she cautioned, “we dare not risk any physical separation of the two travelers. If Mereth and Kasarian clasp hands, surely that contact would keep them together during the journey.”

Remembering the unsettling disorientation of my passage, I judged it wise to warn Mereth beforehand. “My initial transit was tumultuous,” I said to her, “rather like being severely buffeted by a winter gale. The Wise Woman speaks reasonably, but a mere handclasp alone could be dangerously inadequate. I had best lock my arms around you, lady, while bearing the elder’s key as I did before, should that be a necessary element for the working of the spell. Come, let us stand close together, and fix our minds upon our urgently required terminus.”

Mereth tucked her staff through her belt, and after some slight hesitation, placed her arms around my waist. Taking the elder’s key in my right hand, I reached around her cloaked shoulders, grasping her body firmly against my chest.

“The chamber which we would enter,” I declared aloud, “is that magic-secured lower vault beneath Krevonel Castle.” I closed my eyes to concentrate upon the bare stonewalled space as I had last seen it . . . the age-roughened wooden door with its bronze-silver lock. . . .

“It’s coming!” The Wise Woman’s abrupt cry startled me. When I opened my eyes, an eldritch oval of curdled light was soundlessly expanding only an arm’s length away from our position.

“Hold fast, lady!” I ordered, then lifted her off her feet, and plunged both of us through the shimmering expanse.