Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) (31 page)

Celia managed to duck most of the impact of the blow to her
head, but it still sent her to the ground with her head spinning.  As soon as
she hit the carpets of the tent, she felt the tendrils of shadow wrap about her
body, and slide into her throat, causing her to gag.  She couldn't speak, but
she could still breathe.

She watched as the two combatants whirled around the tent,
blades slicing thin air as often as flesh.  She managed to get kicked at least
twice as Salrissa and Brows fought.  She managed to roll herself, though bound,
over to the side of the tent out of the way.

She could feel the violet quafa'shilaar, now in her pocket,
but could not access it without being able to speak her spell.  It was the
first object Hoyle had found in the chest as they were collecting their
things.  Her backpack with her tomes was still in the chest, and she suspected
that they would remain there, unless they were really lucky.  Only luck had
saved them all from death to this point.

Abruptly, screams of terror ripped through the night from
nearby, startling everyone in the tent.  Well, almost everybody - Hoyle had a
big grin on his face.  Celia could feel the familiar beginnings of irrational
fear stirring within her that she had only felt the one time before - in the
Goralonian Merchants' Guild tower.  She steeled herself against it as she
watched the same feeling pass over the occupants of the tent.  She could feel
the quafa'shilaar help bolster her defense, muting the apparently magical fear
that was approaching the tent.

Brows and Salrissa had stopped fighting.  Brows wiped a
sleeve across his face, smearing blood away from his eyes as he backed over near
the warlock, weapon ready.  Salrissa was now trying frantically, with no avail,
to free Valena from the shadow bonds on the opposite side of the tent from the
duo.

"I told you that you would be afraid, before the end of
the night." Hoyle stated, looking at the warlock and shrugging.  Celia
could tell he was gritting his teeth against the fear, his jaw muscles clenched
furiously.  The warlock looked at Hoyle, just now realizing that he had slipped
free of his bonds.  Celia noted the firebird earring's eyes dimming from a red
glow as it finished absorbing the shadow magic. 
The warlock must have
stopped maintaining the spell
she thought trying her own bonds.  No luck,
they were still holding tight.

At just that moment, a familiar grey-skinned figure pushed
through the flaps of the tent, knuckles dragging on the ground, followed by its
two black cloaked handlers.  "Dar karak sssed duth!" one of the
Rak'soraa commanded in his hissing voice.

At that command, Celia felt tears running down her face, the
terror nearly overwhelming her.  The quafa'shilaar sensed it and fed her emotion
that felt like anger, helping her resist the fear being emitted from the
Scenter
. 
She could see Salrissa kneeling on the ground, hands on her knees, head down. 
Valena was weeping quietly, still in her shadow bonds.  Robart was down on his
knees too, gritting his teeth against the false emotions running through the
tent.

The man called Marcon had only dropped to one knee, and was
baring his teeth at the Fear Squad in defiance.  Only Whisper and Hoyle seemed
unaffected.  Celia could see the firebird earring's eyes glowing brightly,
obviously absorbing some of the magic the scaazi was using.  It had taken her a
while to form her suspicions, but this evening's events had confirmed that it
was indeed the earring the he wore that imparted the wearer some sort of
resistance to magic.

"About time you got here," Hoyle directed at the
Rak'soraa.  A hateful glare was directed his way from those glowing eyes deep
within that dark hood. 

Turning back to the two Goralonians in the tent, the shorter
of the cloaked handlers raised his hand containing a metal rod and pointed it
at Brows.  A bolt of lightning leapt from the end of the rod, but failed to
reach its target.  Brows was now standing, having raised his sword in front of
him, absorbing the bolt.  The sword was crackling with residual energy, a
magestone glowing on the hilt, the obvious source of the sword's magic.

Brows stepped forward and swept his sword wide, slicing the
arm from the Rak'soraa, spraying green-black blood all over the tent.  The
creature screamed an inhuman screech that hurt Celia's ears.  Brows then swung
the sword around and drove it into the creature's chest, hilt deep.  He lifted
a leg and kicked the dying creature off his sword and dodged backwards as the
scaazi raked his claws through the place where he had been standing only a
second before.

As the scaazi engaged Brows, Celia felt the fear affect
subside slightly, and only noticed it due to the heightened awareness supplied
by the violet quafa'shilaar in her pocket.  She inched closer to the other
four, and cast a sphere of protection spell, causing the rest of their group to
unlock from their fear-induced paralysis.  Robart started towards Brows and
Whisper, who were the sole targets of the remaining Rak'soraa's ire.  Hoyle
grabbed his arm, which elicited a scowl from the larger man.

"Let them fight it out.  It is not our business...
yet.  Besides, if you step too far away, I suspect you will be paralyzed with
the effects of that
Scenter
again.  Correct Celia?" Hoyle asked,
not looking in her direction, his eyes focused into the eyes of his former
torturer.

"Correct," she responded.  "Three paces is
all I can manage."

"Why do you even care?!" Robart almost shouted at
him, amidst the howls, grunts and cries of battle not ten paces away.

"Not really sure myself," Hoyle responded, "Just
do."

"Well stop.  I can take care of myself."

"Fair enough." Hoyle replied, letting Robart go
and turning back to watch the battle, as the dying Rak'soraa thrashed about,
not three paces away.  They could see the glow fade from the creature's eyes,
its hood falling away from the reptilian face as it finally died.  Green-black
blood pooled under it, and from the stump, causing the carpets to begin to
steam in those spots.  Some blood had managed to reach the bodies of the
guards, and they began to steam and bubble as well.  Apparently Rak'soraa blood
was acidic.

Celia could feel her eyes begin to sting from the vapours
created by the blood as it ate away at the carpets, the other bodies, and robes
the creature was wearing.

"This way," Salrissa said as she lifted Valena to
her feet and directed her to the back room of the tent.  "Out the hole I
made in the back wall."  She followed immediately after.

The rest of them followed, though Robart reluctantly.  Celia
hardly noticed the bedchamber's contents as they entered; only noticing the two
oil lamps illuminating two small camp beds, another desk, and Valena huddled
against the fabric of the back wall of the tent.  Of Salrissa, there was no sign.

Hoyle moved to join Valena, who kept looking back at Robart,
concern in her eyes.  Robart was standing guard at the partition between the
two rooms of the tent, still watching the battle.  Celia quickly moved to the
desk and looked about for something of worth.  She saw several maps with
markings on them and scooped them up into a roll and slid them up her sleeve. 
She also saw several heavy tomes, but noted that they were probably too heavy
to carry, so left them.

Suddenly, she heard Valena scream a tortured
"Noooo!" and run for the front room from her position by the back
wall.  Celia raced over and grabbed her, seeing Robart run towards Brows on the
far right-hand side of the tent.  There was no sign of Whisper, but immediately
behind Brows was a large swirling vortex of dark clouds and shadow.  She
watched, barely able to contain Valena even though she was almost two hands
taller than the diminutive healer, as Brows stepped backwards into the swirling
vortex of shadow and vanished.

Robart yelled back as he ran for the portal, "Now it's
my turn to save your sorry arses, and then we're even!"  He leapt forward
as the portal began to shrink, and dove through just moments before it closed.

Valena wailed, and collapsed into Celia's arms just as Hoyle
arrived to help.  Just then Celia noticed the other two beings still in the
tent to the far left, where they had momentarily retreated.  They turned their
attention on Celia, Hoyle and Valena standing in the doorway to the back room.

She noted that the scaazi had several long slashes across
its chest, which appeared to be closing as she watched.  One arm hung limply,
but she could see the fingers twitching as the severed muscles began to knit
together before her eyes.

"We have to leave now." Hoyle whispered to Celia. 
"Any tricks you might know to get us out of here?"  He turned to the
Rak'soraa, death filling its gaze.  "Now you understand the threat, and
that we were not the cause.  You can now report back to your master, as you
have seen the true threat with your own eyes."

"You ssstill mussst return with usss," the
creature replied in its sibilant whisper.  "The massster gave ssspecific
inssstructions."

"I don't think so," Hoyle replied, stepping
backwards, pulling the limp, weeping Valena with him.  "Celia, whatever
you have, now's the time."

Salrissa stepped back into the tent through the tear she had
created earlier.  Her eyes bore into them.  "Are we leaving or what?"

"We're leaving." Celia responded as she intoned
the words to a spell she had not known only a day ago.  Power crackled from her
fingertips as she channeled the energy of the quafa'shilaar through her body,
feeling alive, but  dying at the same time.  She directed the energy to one
side and a large circle of white energy spun into being, growing larger to
about two paces across, pushing outward from the center.  The center began to
still, while the energy ran around the perimeter, like a continuous white
river, the image in the center stilling to a large meadow in the dark of the
moonless night.

"Where does that lead?" Salrissa inquired as she
gripped her knives tighter.

"Does it matter?" Hoyle said at the same time as
Celia grunted each word, "Can't hold it open long..."

Salrissa shrugged her shoulders and leapt through, turning
in a circle once on the other side, checking for trouble.

Hoyle threw Valena over his shoulder and hopped through.

Celia moved quickly through the portal, the sounds of
screams and battle dying off as she stepped into the meadow.  Apparently, only
objects could travel through, and not sound.  She hoped this also applied to
spell energy as she turned to see the Rak'soraa and scaazi step into the room
they had just left.  The hate-filled glowing eyes of the Rak'soraa bored into
Celia's as she let the portal dissipate abruptly, dropping them into almost complete
darkness.  Only the stars above gave any illumination. 

Celia was sure that she would have nightmares of that
Rak'soraa's glare.  She was right.

Zazaril

Zazaril sat in her cold study, the fire unlit, curtains
closed to the almost moonless night.  She shook her head for the fifth time in
an hour.  She understood the order of course, and even understood the personal
sacrifice that she had been asked to make as part of the greater good.  At
least for the Dar'Shilaar.

She had now finished penning the third attempt at the
letter, and reread it in the light of the small candle on her desk.  She nodded
her head and sprinkled sand across the parchment to help it dry.  She took the
previous two copies, lit them from the candle, walked across the room and
tossed them into the cold fireplace.  She stood for a moment, watching the hot
flakes of parchment float up from the burning sheaves and disappear up the
chimney, making sure they burned completely. 

She turned back to her desk reluctantly and placed the other
item on top of the letter, just in case an errant gust came through when the
soldiers arrived, she didn't want the letter to be lost.  It was important that
he understand.  There had been no other choice really, and the attack on
Mahad'avor last night had forced the decision, truly.

A cough sounded with a light knock on the open door to her
study.  She looked up at Wendinard, his ever crisp uniform impeccable as ever,
even though it was the late hours of the night.  Well, really the early hours
of the morning.

"It's time, Mistress," he said in his ever proper
manner.

"Yes, I know Wendinard.  Thank you.  I will be down
promptly." She responded with a small wave of her hand.  He nodded and
left her.

It had taken the better part of the day after receiving her
orders from the new head of the order to get all the Dar'Shilaar in Tala'ahar
rounded up and brought back to the embassy.  The biggest difficulty had been
that most had been scattered around the city recovering from the Spring's
Planting Eve partying the night before.

She passed on the grave news, her voice catching in her
throat as she told the rest about the attack on their surrogate home and the
subsequent death of Endergot, the only head of the order that some had ever
known.  There were many questions, mostly about who had become the new head of
the order.  Most were surprised when she told them, many stunned, a few
slightly outraged.  The other questions she answered as best as she could, but
could not tell them why or by whom.  The events of the attack were still
unclear as yet, having just been told her mentor was dead, she had not been
able to collect herself enough to listen properly.

She passed on the final order, and was surprised when there
was little resistance.  Everyone went quickly about their tasks, even the servants. 
The first Shilaar to head back to Mahad'avor left only two hours after they had
been given the news, eight hours after Zazaril had been informed.  Most of
those were fairly new, and had little in the way of possessions located in the
embassy, thus found it easy to pack.  Truth be told, they seemed almost eager
to leave Tala'ahar and the insidious oppression of the Emperor.

Others took longer, and the magegate worked well into the
evening, sending the rest of the Dar'Shilaar back to the floating citadel that
was their home; or at least the home of their order.  She could feel the pull
on her every time the gate was activated, which had been eight times up until
four hours ago when she herself had activated it, an occurrence of about once
almost every hour.

Now, only she and Wendinard remained.  She had passed
through the embassy earlier, casting protective spells to seal the library and
vaults to all but another Dar'Shilaar.  Into the casting she wove a warning and
a simple message as to why they had left.  A true Shilaar would know where they
went to, and could follow if they chose.  She watched the last of the flames
die out, the parchment now curled black sheets of charcoal that she tapped with
her foot to crumble them into an indiscernible pile of ash.

She left her study, pausing at the door to look back only
once, and vowed to herself to return someday.  She started down the steps of
the empty tower to the empty lower levels, and finally to the basement.  She
entered the vault that housed the gata'shilaar, currently inactive, and walked
up to Wendinard who was holding a pack.

"All of your possessions went through on previous
trips," he stated.  Her eyebrow went up questionably as she looked at the
pack.  "I took the liberty of going through Celia's room and packed what
remained of her things.  I figured that we shouldn't leave her stuff here, when
all others have left."

"I agree, that was very kind," she said quietly. 
"What would we do without you?  More importantly, what would I do without
you?"

His face was very solemn.  "I am afraid that you will
now have to find out."

"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked.  They had
already had this conversation once today, but she just wanted to make sure. 
"There would be a place for you in Mahad'avor.  It is quite a wonderful
home."

"I am sure Mistress, but this is my home.  I have
family here."

"Really?  I didn't take you for the marrying
kind," she prodded gently.

"Oh I'm not married.  My brother Mortimar and his wife
live in the city.  My niece and nephew are a handful, and he could use my
help.  He works in a cobbler's shoppe over on Merrywine Road.  Anyway, I
couldn't leave them here alone."  

This was the most Zazaril had ever heard come out of her
steward's mouth in all the time she had known him.

"I understand Wendinard.  Thank you for everything and
be well.  Do you remember your instructions on what to do once I am through the
gate?"

"Yes, Mistress.  It will be as you say."

"Good.  It may very well save hundreds of lives." 
She took the pack of Celia's belongings and turned and faced the large gatal'shilaar. 
Calling out the incantation, she pressed the sequence of magestones that would
open the doorway to Mahad'avor.  As the gateway materialized into place, the
courtyard she had known for many years visible, she turned and smiled at
Wendinard.  She stepped through into Mahad'avor, seeing some figures waiting
for her outside the gate chamber.  She turned and watched Wendinard stride up
to the gateway's other end and fiddle with something to the side, and finally
the gate winked out.

She turned and met the figures waiting for her.