An Alliance of Mortals, page 18
part #6 of The New Earth Chronicles Series
“As you wish. Are you recovered enough to take your party back home?” Shandon asked Callius.
“I do not have to, my lord,” the scryer replied with a smile. “This is an opportunity for you to use the anchor for the first time.”
“Wait. You want me to send you back to Caladur?” the king asked him in surprise.
“If you would be so kind, my lord,” Callius said. “Just do what I told you earlier. Put your hand on the pillar and think of Caladur. You do not need to have been there to do so. Just hold the name of our town in your mind. That will be enough.”
Shandon stared at the young elf for a moment and then at Ethmira and Malfiess. Finally he turned to look at Larin.
“Yes, you can do this, my lord,” the mage said, answering the king's unspoken question.
“Very well,” Shandon said heavily. “I never thought I'd see the day that I was doing a mage's job for him.”
There was a ripple of laughter from the others and the king grinned as he placed his hand on the pillar's surface again.
He closed his eyes and frowned in concentration.
“Caladur,” he said softly.
There was an immediate sense of heaviness in the air and the scent of ozone permeated the room. Next to the pillar, a shimmer of energy appeared and an oval of blue energy formed. It was about ten feet tall and four feet wide and it shook and wavered like a mirage.
Shandon opened his eyes and looked at it in surprised delight.
“I did it!” he exclaimed happily. “Look, Larin. I did it! Does that make me a mage now?”
Larin laughed.
“Not quite yet, my lord,” he replied. “But who knows? Perhaps with enough practice...”
The king chuckled.
“No, I think that I'll leave all that dusty studying to you and your people. Ethmira, as you can see, the portal is open. You may head home at any time.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said warmly. “Your aid in this venture and your willingness to place the anchor here in your own palace has forged a new connection between our peoples. I hope that it will only strengthen over time.”
“As do I.”
Shandon winked at Callius and the scryer reddened, suddenly looking even younger than he already did.
“Your efforts here today will not be forgotten, my friend,” the king told him. “You may have saved all three mortal races with these anchors and that is a feat unmatched in all of our long history. Well done.”
Callius bowed and stammered his thanks.
“Malfiess,” Shandon said to the councilor. “Tell your Elder that I hope for her speedy recovery. And tell her that my people stand ready to respond to any threat against yours. Just call on us when you need us. Someone will be stationed here at the anchor around the clock, just in case.”
“I will tell her, my lord. And I know that I speak for her and all elves when I say that words cannot express our gratitude to you and your people.”
“I appreciate that. Now you'd best get moving,” Shandon said with a grin. “We're stumbling over ourselves with our mutual thank-yous and this portal thingy may be getting a bit irritated. We don't want to anger the ley, now do we?”
All of the elves bowed to him as one and then Malfiess walked toward the portal. He stopped for a moment for one final look around before stepping through and vanishing.
Ethmira smiled at the king and followed the councilor, with Callius close on her heels. The three rangers walked into the portal without hesitation and, once they were safely through, Shandon removed his hand from the pillar.
The portal disappeared instantly and he turned to look at Larin and the others.
“Well now,” he said to them. “Wasn't that remarkable?”
Chapter 13
The summer sun was hot and the days were long in northern Britain a few weeks after the communication network was established between the three mortal races. Workers were out in force in the fields below Nottinghill Castle, harvesting carrots and beets under the watchful eyes of dozens of guardsmen. There had been no incursions by any enemies into the country in months, but the danger of an attack was always present and so the workers in the fields were constantly protected.
A young man with short blond hair was on his hands and knees, yanking carrots from the earth, shaking the dirt off of them and then tossing them into a large basket. He was wearing thin brown trousers and a sleeveless shirt and his skin was darkly tanned.
Occasionally he would sit back on his heels, wipe the sweat off of his forehead with a stained handkerchief and grin at another worker who was harvesting a row of carrots several yards away.
“How you holding up, Gerry?” he asked at one point.
The other man took a break and slapped his hands together sharply, a cloud of dust rising into the air. He smiled back at Dennis, his bright red hair and sunburned face partly protected by a broad-brimmed hat.
“Well, I'm cooking under this damned sun, but I'm good. The carrots have turned out well this year. I swear that they're bigger every season. The folks back in the castle will be pleased.”
“Aye, and the beets are monsters too,” Dennis replied as he tossed a bunch of carrots into his basket. “Someone told me that all the magic in the air has changed the vegetables just the way it changed all of us. Dunno if that's true or not, but as long as it helps us grow more food, I don't really care.”
Gerry began to speak and then stopped and looked past his friend with wide eyes.
“Hey, isn't that what's her name? Tamara?” he asked Dennis in surprise.
Dennis spun around on his knees to see what his friend was staring at. A woman wearing a long blue robe was walking slowly across the field, stopping here and there to chat with the dozens of people who were bringing in the harvest. Her short pale hair gleamed in the sunlight and she was smiling as she spoke with the workers.
“Oh aye, that's her all right,” he told Gerry. “What, haven't you ever spoken to her before?”
“Spoken to her?” his friend replied in disbelief. “She's head of the leadership council, mate. Those high mucky-mucks don't talk to the likes of us.”
Dennis snorted derisively.
“You think we're living in the old days of haves and have-nots?” he asked the other man. “We're not. Just how old were you when you Changed anyway?”
Gerry shrugged as he continued to watch the mage move across the field of carrots.
“About fifty or so. Why?”
“Because you're living in the past, lad. All of us are equal now. Tamara is one of the leaders because she's a very powerful mage, that's all. I'm told by some friends who work in the castle that she hates all that responsibility and stuff. She was just a regular person like you and me before the dragons destroyed the world.”
“You don't say? Huh. I didn't know that. Makes sense, I suppose.”
As the two men watched, Tamara glanced over at them and then turned to walk toward them.
“She's coming over here!” Gerry hissed nervously.
Dennis laughed at him and pushed himself to his feet to wave at Tamara.
“Good morning, Lady Tamara,” he said respectfully as Gerry scrambled to stand up behind him.
“Good morning to you both,” she replied with a warm smile. “How are you doing, Dennis? How's the crop looking?”
“I am well, thank you for asking,” Dennis replied politely. “The carrots have turned out well this year. Bigger and sweeter than ever. We should be able to get another planting in and a second harvest before the summer is over.”
“Excellent. And who is this?” Tamara asked as she looked past him at Dennis.
“Oh, this is my friend, Gerry. Gerry, may I introduce Lady Tamara.”
The mage stepped forward and offered her hand to the man. Gerry whipped the hat off of his head and frantically wiped his palm on his trousers before diffidently shaking her hand.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Gerry,” Tamara said to him.
“The...the pleasure is mine, Lady,” he replied nervously. “I'm sorry but my hands are dirty from digging for carrots.”
Tamara burst out laughing as she glanced at Dennis.
“I'm guessing that you haven't told your friend about my past,” she said to him.
Dennis grinned back at her.
“Haven't had the chance,” he replied. “Gerry never expected to see one of the leadership out here with us 'commoners'.”
Tamara rolled her eyes and looked at Gerry.
“My brother and I spent years in London after it fell to the dragons,” she told him. “Living like rats among the ruins, scratching out a living and eating whatever we could find. And before that, we were simple laborers. Don't mistake this,” she looked down at her robe, “for the trappings of some noble. We mages wear robes because they are light and less restrictive than regular clothing. Makes using magic easier for us.”
She smiled at the man who was listening in amazement, sweat streaking down his face from his damp, tussled red hair.
“You and I are the same, my friend,” she told him. “And anyone who sits on the leadership council would say the same. We've all lost so much and now we fight daily just to survive. Don't allow old thinking to taint your view of the world, Gerry. The New Earth is a fresh start for all of us, or at least that's how I choose to see it.”
“Thank you, Lady Tamara,” Gerry replied with a tentative smile. “I will try to remember that.”
“I hope you do. Well, I'll let you two get back to work. Have a good day, gentlemen.”
Tamara smiled at them both and then turned away and set off toward another group of workers.
“Wow. She's amazing,” Gerry said softly as he watched the mage walk away.
“She is that,” Dennis agreed.
He grinned at his friend's dumbstruck expression.
“You look like you've been struck by lightning,” he teased him.
Gerry shook his head and smiled sheepishly at Dennis.
“Feels like I have,” he admitted. “She's nothing like I imagined a mage would be. No airs at all.”
“Of course not,” Dennis replied as he knelt down again. “Like she said, Tamara is just like us. The only difference is that she works with magic and we work with vegetables. And speaking of vegetables...”
Gerry chuckled at the not so subtle hint and dropped to his knees.
“Aye. Back to it. But somehow I feel better now. More hopeful. Isn't that strange?”
He held up his right hand and looked at his palm.
“She actually shook my hand,” he marveled softly.
Dennis wisely said nothing. He just smiled to himself and went back to harvesting carrots.
When she returned to the castle, Tamara walked through the courtyard and stopped to stare at the wall protecting the magical anchor. Guards were posted on either side of the locked iron doors and people were walking past them without even glancing their way.
“Doesn't take much for folks to become accustomed to new things, does it?” someone asked her.
Tamara turned around and smiled at Katherine Hastings.
“That's true enough. To be honest, I'm happy about that. I was worried that our people would see the anchor as a potential threat. Now they don't seem to see it at all. We're a strange species, aren't we?”
The healer laughed and fell in step with Tamara as the mage began walking toward the main entrance of the castle.
“No stranger than we ever were, I would say,” she replied. “And what have you been up to today, my friend? Your robe is dusty and you have a streak of dirt on your chin.”
“Do I? Well, no matter. I've looked worse, I'm sure.”
Tamara nodded to some of the people moving past her as they went about their business.
“I was down in the fields,” she told Katherine. “They started harvesting the root vegetables today and I wanted to see how the crops had turned out.”
“And?”
“They look amazing. Carrots as long as my forearm and twice as thick around and beets the size of cantaloupes. The magic that permeates every bit of this world now has had its effect on them, that much is obvious.”
Katherine nodded thoughtfully.
“Yes, we see that everywhere, don't we?” she replied. “But like the way the people have quickly begun to ignore that new anchor, they also ignore the changes all around them. I wonder if there is some intelligence behind that ignorance.”
Tamara stopped and turned to stare at the healer.
“What are you talking about?” she asked her. “What are they ignoring?”
“Everything really.”
At the mage's perplexed expression, Katherine rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Oh, come now, Tamara,” she exclaimed. “Think about it. Less than two decades ago, people like you didn't exist. Mages? Really? Not to mention dragons, goblins, ogres and, of course, the elves and the dwarves. No one believed in them. Not really. And now look around you.”
The healer gestured at the people meeting in the courtyard, all of whom were doing business together or working at their various trades. It all seemed very peaceful and normal.
“Not one of these people gives you a second glance, beyond acknowledging you as one of the leaders of this castle. Armored warriors pass by them and no one bats an eye. Don't you think that they've all adapted to this New Earth rather quickly?”
Tamara looked around at the folks going about their business. Children ran in and out of groups of adults, laughing and playing with youthful vigor. She smiled as she watched them.
“Well, we are a very resilient species, aren't we? People get used to new circumstances all the time. It's probably just a normal process.”
“Is it?”
Katherine shook her head.
“I think you are wrong,” she told Tamara. “There's one thing that has convinced me that we are being influenced by something beyond what you call a 'normal process'.”
“Which is what?”
“How old are you, Tamara?”
The mage stared at her in surprised silence for a moment.
“How old? Um, well, when the dragons struck I was in my mid twenties. Bastion is two years younger than I am. So now I'm around forty or so. Why?”
“Because you look like you are barely out of your teens,” Katherine replied flatly. “So does your brother. So does everyone who Changed physically when the magic returned to the world on the wings of the dragons.”
“I...what?”
Tamara looked puzzled.
“Well, my mother looked much younger than her years as she grew older. It's probably just an inherited trait.”
Katherine put her hands on her hips and glared at the mage.
“You do not have a line on your face, Tamara. You don't have one gray hair. Neither does Sebastian. I don't either, actually. And I was over thirty when I Changed. But at the time, I noticed the difference in my body. Even in my early thirties, I knew that I had less energy and that I was more prone to aches and pains than I was in my teens and twenties. But after I Changed, I was almost buzzing with youthful vigor. I still am. So are you. So is everyone who Changed.”
“But there are plenty of people who did not regain their youth,” Tamara pointed out. “What about them? Why didn't they Change?”
Katherine smiled at her.
“They did. A normal human could not exist for long after the magic returned. You know that. The dragons and their servants, those ravenous packs of drakes, were able to sense them somehow. But they could not sense us, the Changelings, as some called us back then. But as to why those older people were not gifted with renewed youth when they were Changed? That I cannot say. Why are you and your brother and a handful of others able to use spells? Why can I heal with a touch of my hand? I don't know that either. All I know is that our changes didn't affect just our bodies. They affected our minds as well.”
“To what end, Katherine?” Tamara asked impatiently.
“How the hell should I know?” the healer replied with a laugh. “I just thought that I would mention it, that's all. It probably means nothing. Certainly it hasn't done us any harm.”
“That we know of,” Tamara said ominously. “Well, you've given me something to think about. Thanks for adding to my pile of worries.”
“Always happy to help,” the healer said merrily. “Have a nice day.”
She walked off and Tamara glared at her back for a moment. Then she began to head for the main doors of the castle again. There was so much to do as always, and she was already running late. But Katherine's observations stuck with her and weighed on her mind for the rest of the day.
Malfiess was walking through the town of Caladur on a cloudy morning when a young woman caught up to him. She was breathing heavily and her long brown hair was disheveled. She looked very upset.
“Perri?” the councilor said in surprise. “Goodness, what's wrong?”
“Forgive me, sir,” she replied as she gasped for breath. “But I was sent to find you with an urgent message.”
The young elf was wearing green cloth trousers and a white shirt stitched with tiny patterns of flowers, a typical outfit for the average working elf.
“Very well,” Malfiess said. “What is it?”
“Healer Miriam sent me to ask that you attend to Elder Amelda.”
Perri lowered her voice and looked around as if to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear her.
“The healer didn't say as much, Councilor,” she whispered, “But I believe that the Elder is failing. She may wish to speak with you before...well, you know.”
Malfiess stared at her in alarm.
“I hope that you're wrong,” he told Perri. “But thank you for your message. I will go to her at once.”
The woman looked relieved and ran off again, disappearing before Malfiess could say any more.
He spun around and hurried through the town toward Amelda's home. The Elder lived in a lovely little house just a few hundred yards away from the Council hall. It had been one of the first houses built after the elves had begun constructing the new town, an homage to the Elder and the respect that the elven people felt for her.
