Spellscribed: Conviction (37 page)

The moons trundled across the sky, the end of their nightly journey marked by a lightening of the horizon. Color and light started to seep into the sky. Dawn would be coming soon.

No one spoke, everyone knew what it meant. Instead they ran a little bit harder. Another hour passed, and the sky to east bloomed with pretty reds and oranges and bits of yellow, lighting up their glass seascape with matching colors. The freezing cold of the night had not yet started to yield; it would not give in until the suns themselves stole the desert from it.

As the sliver of the first sun crested the eastern mountain, its light sliced across the Sea of Glass; and for the first time, Endrance could see the edge. Maybe a mile, maybe three miles, but he knew the end was in sight.

“Push it!” he panted, gritting his teeth and picking up the pace. Now that the end was near, they could expend what little of their stamina remained. Their steady jog exploded into a sprint, their boots slapping on the glass as they gave it all they had.

The second sun broke over the mountains, the first already a third of the way into the sky. Now the cold was starting to fade, beaten back by the warmth of their suns.

Endrance was fading fast. His spell was wearing out, his stamina was gone, and he had been badly injured before they even began. Everything had been a blur for the last two hours, and when he saw the sand before him, he just kept running. They closed the distance, but it seemed to stretch on.

Both suns had risen, and the area closest to that mountainside in the center of the sea started to gleam. It hadn’t suddenly burst them into flames, but it was dozens of miles away.

They reached the point where the glass was crackling under their feet, and Endrance slowed unconsciously, trying to keep going. Joven was in the lead, his legendary strength and stamina unfailing, even after spending a literal entire night running with nothing but a fifteen minute break in the middle. Endrance was last, but he was glad for it. He was, after all, most likely to survive a sudden rise in heat.

In the distance, shining sands awaited them. There were many large dunes and rises in the sand, and Joven pushed straight towards them, his boots hitting the sand. Endrance felt the change of texture in the ground beneath him, and nearly fell over in joy, but he knew that he was still in the danger zone. Even though it might not get close to hot enough to melt sand, even a fraction of that heat would be enough to kill him. The day before, they had set up camp three hundred yards from the sea and it still had been one of the hottest days they’d ever experienced, even buried underground.

Joven crested the dune and disappeared down the other side, followed by Selene, then Tanya and Bridget. Endrance trudged up the sand, hoping they could use the other side as shelter. He reached the top and halted, panting. Joven, Bridget, everyone else was lying face down in the sand, pinned in place by several elves in light leather armor and armed with curved swords of milky white steel. Endrance put his hands on his knees and panted, knowing that there was probably at least one elf right behind him.

“I think.” Endrance said, breathing hard. “Guys… I think we found the elves.”

“Indeed.” One male said, seeming to materialize out of the air at his side. “Welcome to Salthimere, land of the elves. Do you wish to be executed, or would you rather try your chances in the sun storm you just escaped?”

“Neither!” Endrance said, still trying to catch his breath. His back was starting to warm up uncomfortably. “I am Endrance, the Emissary of High King Mastadon, Lord of Ironsoul.”

“So?” The male replied, leaning over slightly to look him in the eyes. He had darkly tanned skin and dark brown hair. A Sha’hdi. Endrance knew only a little about their culture, but he knew they had grim attitudes compared to the Suo’hdi.

“So, I am important. As are my attendants.” Endrance replied, standing up. The sea brightening behind him must have looked fantastic, but he couldn’t take the moment to see it. “I am also a mage of the Circle, and a friend of Valzoa of House-“

“I know who you are, mage.” The male snapped back. “We would have taken you in gladly, but you come bearing proof of a crime that cannot be forgiven in your very hands.”

Endrance glanced at his staff. “This?” he said. “This is my Grandstaff.”

“Impossible.” The male snapped. “Grandstaves are beyond your human ability.”

Endrance tapped the butt of the staff on the sand.
I need a display of power.
He thought towards the presence.

The sand around the Sha’hdi exploded, flinging him straight up into the air.

“Well I have one, and it was made by humans.” He stated. “Got a problem?”

The other elves watched the Sha’hdi tumble back down into the sand. “No, we’re good.” One female said in jest, a smile in her face as the Sha’hdi rolled back onto his feet. “If you can command it, then that’s good enough for me.” She said with a laugh. “Welcome to Salthimere, Endrance.”

Chapter 17:

“How far did you fling Lior into the air?” Valzoa asked, leaning over his dinner table.

The lean elven male was dressed in a fine green silk shirt and black pants, with supple, black leather boots. The elf carried himself with a poise and disposition that made Endrance think about a cat; seemingly relaxed, but ready to spring into action in an instant. His hair was dyed black this time, hanging silkily and untangling in a way that would make any human jealous. His violet eyes glimmered with joy over their conversation.

Endrance and Valzoa were sitting on a balcony overlooking most of Salthimere’s center. They were having a light, late afternoon meal at one of Valzoa’s favorite restaurants, a place with a splendid view of the city. The capitol was spread out, so the population was fairly evenly distributed across the countryside. Endrance had been in Salthimere for barely three days, and he still had a hard time recognizing their capitol as a ‘city.’

To the mage, it looked more like an orchard than a city. Geomantic patterns of trees grew from otherwise clear land, paved with hand-set stones in between. Some of the larger trees, Valzoa had said were family homes, while the smaller ones were used for shops and galleries, places for people to learn, or practice arts. Endrance spotted natural animals wandering about between the trees, completely unafraid of the elves moving about the city. Even the elven foot traffic was a world above that of the humans. Though every street could be busy, the natural grace of the elves caused there to be practically no congestion, even in the busiest thoroughfares. Endrance’s arrival had caused a few tangles on the roads, but the elves had managed to slip through their entourage without difficulty, like they were water flowing around an Endrance-shaped rock in a stream.

Speaking of streams, natural flowing water ran through the city, unworked and seemingly unmoved by the elven occupants. It seemed as if the whole city just happened to naturally form the way it was.

In the distance to the south, rose the seat of the dual monarchy of Salthimere. A grand pair of trees rose from the center of the capitol. Named the Dawntree and Dusktree, both were massive, easily a thousand feet across or more, with the trunks rising up into the sky three times as high as even the largest family tree. The northern tree had a warm, almost whitish bark that looked soft and waxy, with bright green leaves. The southern was a dark brown, almost black bark with deep olive leaves that were jagged along the edges. Both trees rose up into the sky, with several of their massive branches interweaving and entwining with the other.

From where Endrance sat, he could see movement almost like ants in the distance across those branches. The elves used the branches as walkways between the two trees, their massive size more than capable of handling even a dozen elves marching shoulder to shoulder.

Endrance turned back to Valzoa. “Huh?” he muttered. “I’m sorry, Valzoa.”

The elf leaned back in his seat, flipping his hand dismissively. “Oh, no worries, young man.” He said with a lazy smile. “I know our city is quite the wonder for humans to see. The first few ambassadors they sent were unable to cope for days.”

Endrance sighed, shrugging. “I am sorry though. I have to say that your home is beautiful, and I am glad that I was able to find you so soon upon arriving here.”

“Yes, well, I was actually waiting for you.” Valzoa said. “You know, after I had requested that Mastodon character send you and everything.”

Endrance’s jaw dropped. “You’re the one that got me fired?” he asked, his confusion temporarily disabling his temper.

Valzoa shook his head, his hair cascading prettily about him before settling down surprisingly quickly and without tangle. “I wouldn’t put it that way.” He explained. “The High King was going to punish you, no matter what happened in that courtroom. I was only able to influence how you were punished.”

“So you got me sent here. To your homeland.” Endrance said, his tone flat. The vegetable plate he had been enjoying went forgotten.

Valzoa sighed. “I knew I should have alerted you, but under the circumstances, I had no way of knowing if the opposition would hear.” He replied. “I needed them to think that this was a stroke of bad luck, instead of a purposeful machination.”

“Wait… the opposition?” Endrance asked. “You know about… her?”

“You mean your mother, Valeria?” Valzoa asked. “Yes. I found out much after our meeting, and our continued conversations had helped me make a new friend.”

“Just a friend?” a familiar female’s voice came from the balcony doorway. “I would think that we’ve moved beyond just friends.”

Endrance turned to see Jalyin standing in the doorway, her arms crossed below her breasts and a smirk on her face; the elven assassin that had only a month before put six daggers into his back… though she had supposedly been on his side.

“Y-you!” he stammered, remembering to breathe.

The elven woman was almost as tall as Valzoa, with a tanned skin and black inky hair she had done up into a bun, with a pair of needle-like knives holding it in place. She wasn’t wearing the black leather getup that he’d only ever seen her on before. Instead, she wore a black silk, side slit dress that left nothing to the imagination, though even with how tightly it fit, she probably still had some kind of weaponry concealed on her person. Bangles of silver and gold adorned her wrists, and a platinum ring set with diamonds adorned the middle finger of her left hand.

“Yes! Her!” Valzoa said, his grin not fading, but perhaps taking on an edge of preparation in case Endrance were to react unfavorably. “I guess you could say she’s been my… how do you humans put it? Date?”

“He tracked me down after our last encounter in Balator.” Jalyin explained, walking up to the dinner table and reaching for a chair. Valzoa flicked his fingers, and a tightly controlled gust of wind both pulled the chair out for her, and turned it slightly towards her. “Thank you.” She said, sitting.

“It was right about the time you were setting out to leave.” Valzoa said. “I had been trying to track her down, since I had started taking a liking to you, and I had finally figured on a way to get her to stop hunting you.”

“He had managed to track down my Matron, and convince her to give up the job I was on.” Jalyin said. “Which, if you knew my Matron at all, you would know requires a degree of bravado that only fools and great men can exhibit.”

“The fact that I did it and lived, proves I am the latter.” Valzoa quipped.

“So he comes to me, flying in like some kind of god, and he comes down right in front of me.” She continued, taking Valzoa’s glass and sipping his wine. “He says that he has a new job for me, and that he’ll pay double what I was paid to kill you; to kill my client instead.”

“Oh.” Endrance said, sitting back. He wasn’t sure if he should be on guard, but the two of them seemed to be getting along together, and he did trust Valzoa. The elf did help get Bridget’s arm back.

“But you already knew what had happened, so I had to explain the situation to him.” She said.

“Which, I’m most displeased that you got to see… more of her before I could. You rapscallion.” Valzoa said amusedly, earning a glare from Jalyin. “The circle is a pretty tattoo, by the way.”

“Anyway, we now have had some time to compare notes. You kept sending him messages with your little sprites, and we could travel much faster than you could on foot. So, we set the way for you to get here.” She continued.

“I used the money that I was going to use to have Valeria killed, which would have been a waste of funds and a beautiful civil servant.” Valzoa continued. “And instead, spent it throughout Ironsoul and Salthimere, paving the way for your arrival and assured success.”

“Then… why did you nearly kill me?” Endrance demanded of Jalyin, scowling. “I very nearly died in that courtroom!”

Jalyin hung her head. “I… I made a mistake.” She said. “I apologize. It was a miscalculation. I saw that you had a Grandstaff and I thought it would have moved to defend you. I didn’t realize that you hadn’t bonded with it yet.”

“Endrance. This was partially my fault.” Valzoa added. “I thought that if they saw her still trying to assassinate you, they’d realize that you were indeed framed. I didn’t realize she’d have trouble pulling her punches.”

“Yes. I was too good.” Jalyin shrugged. “Force of habit.”

“I accept your apology, though I am still trying to figure out how you two can get along so well.” Endrance said, taking a drink. “I mean, she killed like a dozen people when she was after me.”

Valzoa looked puzzled. “It… was the job. An assassin is a servant of the kingdom. They’re a safety to protect against corruption in our society. Someone went through great effort to convince a matron of one of the three greatest guilds in Salthimere that you were a threat to our kind.”

“So, I took the job. Of course, now that I’ve finally returned home to report the client deceived her, the matron is in quite a state.” Jalyin admitted. “I’m actually on probation for a little while.”

“More of a forced vacation, really.” Valzoa added.

“That seems awfully- wait a minute!” Endrance interjected. “I still want to know why you brought me to Salthimere!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jalyin asked. “You’re here because Valeria had to do some serious work to hire my guild to target you. From what I’ve had to go through, I have no doubt that she has no way of entering our lands, nor can she risk doing more than sending a proxy in her stead.”

“How can you be so sure she doesn’t have influence here?” Endrance demanded. “She was an Archmagus.”

“Because of those.” Jalyin said, pointing. Endrance turned to find his Grandstaff standing peacefully just within his reach. “The Grandstaves are a symbol of our practitioners.”

“Aren’t all elves able to use magic?” Endrance asked. “You’re a latently magic race.”

“Do you understand how we have our pursuits?” Valzoa asked. Endrance shook his head. The elven male shrugged. “That’s probably why that doesn’t make much sense to you.”

“Huh?”

“We live such long lives as a species, and our culture has developed in a way that incorporates that.” Valzoa explained. “We each, upon our third decade, select a pursuit. It is a field of profession that the elf devotes his or her life to for the next decade. They throw themselves into that pursuit, and it is what they do with themselves. Money is, in general, pooled among a family, so most elves don’t have to worry about how much income they make off of their pursuits. Instead, they only choose to do what they love.”

“Even if it’s something they don’t love to do, it’s only a decade; so they can try something different the next cycle.” Valzoa continued. “I personally was absolutely bored with all the money management pursuits, and much to my father’s dismay, took up dueling instead.”

“That’s… an official pursuit?” Endrance asked. “Dueling?”

“Well, of course.” Valzoa replied with a warm smile. “Despite our rather harmonious culture, there will always be disputes and the best way to resolve conflicts that neither side is willing to back down from, is to decide it on a duel. That’s where the duelist pursuits come in. We can be hired for a reasonable fee to take a person’s place as their second. This way, even a grain farmer can argue with a soldier and still win.”

“Their duels are also very flashy.” Jalyin added. “Fancy moves and specialized magic. You really should see a match or two between duelists. It’s breathtaking.”

“Why, thank you.” Valzoa said.

“Not very practical in a real fight, but breathtaking nonetheless.” Jalyin added with a wink.

“So… the Grandstaves are the symbol of an elf who chose to study magic as a pursuit?” Endrance guessed. “Not just the little bits that you each have an affinity for, but all kinds of magic like our Circle mages?”

Valzoa nodded. “Absolutely correct.” He said. “They’re also not something that someone can craft after just a decade of practice, either. Our most recent Grandstaff was made by a practitioner who had been following that pursuit for twelve cycles.”

“A hundred and twenty years.” Endrance said. “I didn’t even make it myself, and the staff took less than three months to craft, from one end to the other.”

“That’s pretty preposterous.” Valzoa said. “No wonder Lior didn’t believe you.”

“Do you doubt me?” Endrance asked.

“Not at all, my friend.” Valzoa replied quickly. “After what I’ve heard you accomplish in such a short time, it’s no wonder you managed to pull it off. But, I have to admit, I’m curious how you knew about the Grandstaves.”

“I’m curious as well.” Jalyin said, raising a perfect eyebrow.

Endrance shrugged. “My bodyguard, Joven, did all the manual labor. I guess I just contributed the motivation and the bone that formed the base. He said some elf in Ironsoul named Meryl told him about it, and even sold him the rest of the components.”

“Meryl?” Jalyin asked. “That sounds like a humanized name.”

“Probably.” Endrance agreed. “She sells magical components to mages in our city. Joven said she imports rare components from here.”

“Smuggles it, more likely.” Jalyin said. “We don’t exactly have normal trade routes into Salthimere.”

“Either way, I can’t wait to see the old fool’s face when he hears an unlettered barbarian managed to make a Grandstaff in a hundredth of the time it took him to make one.” Valzoa said, laughing.