Assault in the Wizard Degree, page 3
I sighed. All these chalked words only served, as Galen elegantly put it, ‘to efficiently display our areas of ignorance’. I frowned as I added a new section, writing in each of Zenos’ prophecies of salvation before they faded from my mind.
Shaw’s buzz saw of a snore cut off abruptly as he woke. The drake righted himself and made a remarkably fluid feline stretch. His beak gaped wide as he let out a yawn. The griffin slowly focused on where I’d just finished adding the latest set of riddles to the board.
“Great events must have taken place whilst I slumbered,” he remarked. His golden eyes peered at me curiously. “Thou hast a rather downcast look.”
“I’m feeling a bit frustrated,” I said, my irritation cropping up in my voice. “I got some more information about the future at court. Unfortunately, I don’t have the faintest idea what any of it means.”
Shaw cocked his eagle head at me. “Then there is no reason to be off-put. Thou art doing about as well as usual.”
I sighed. Trust a griffin to make that a vote of confidence.
A pair of heavy knocks at the door, followed by the clopping of hooves, preceded Galen’s entrance. He held a trio of tightly-wrapped scrolls in one hand. The expression on his face teetered between excitement and apprehension.
“Dayna, I hope I am not disturbing anything,” Galen began. “Actually, I hope I’m not disturbing either of you.”
“Nay, nay,” Shaw demurred, as he padded over to the table and sat next to me. “I’ve been doing what Dayna calls ‘recharging mine own batteries’. Oh, and Dame Chrissie hath gotten news about the future.”
The Wizard made a wry face. “I know. I happened to be present. And to be quite frank, the information made very little sense.”
“Aye, that is the way the future comes – as riddles and nonsense. Come to think of it, a fair amount of the present arrives that way as well.”
“You’re not interrupting anything,” I added. “I just wrote up what Zenos said. Your guess is as good as mine as to whatever it means. At least with Belladonna’s visions, we could make a couple of educated guesses. Unless you have a clue to share with us?”
“Alas, I do not. I bring information and assignments, not solutions.” He trotted over to the table and placed one of the scrolls in front of Shaw. “His Majesty has requested that you fly to the Reykajar Aerie and deliver this message.”
“An urgent summons this must be,” Shaw observed, as he scooped up the scroll in one lion’s paw.
“He wishes to convey his concern to the Council of Chosen that Andeluvia needs more griffin warriors for the Air Cavalry.” Galen’s voice was grim as he added, “Fitzwilliam had me tally up the number of griffins in Andeluvian service. They’re scarcely at one-third strength.”
I let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”
Galen’s expression was grave. “I regret to say that the bad news does not stop there.”
Chapter Four
I had no idea how Galen’s news could be any worse. The griffins provided the only real air power the kingdom of Andeluvia had. Losing that both exposed and seriously limited Fitzwilliam’s forces.
That said, part of me didn’t want to learn the answer.
“The Air Cavalry’s lack of strength is going to decline from ‘under-strength’ to ‘critically weak’ in the coming months,” Galen clarified. “Many of the remaining griffins have been ordered to leave Andeluvian service and return to the Aerie this summer. Which is why the King is hoping that Grimshaw will explain how dire our needs are to the High Elder.”
Shaw clacked his beak in annoyance. “Perhaps the King wouldst have me hold back the incoming tide as well? Or stop the winter snows?”
“He knows that you’re one of the few drakes that Belladonna will listen to,” I put in. “If that doesn’t work, perhaps you could sway some of the new Council members–”
“I shall go and speak for Fitzwilliam, of course. But Belladonna’s addled brain is not the problem. Rather, ‘tis the consequence of the Slaughter of the Prides that took place last autumn.”
I winced at that. I’d been present for the battle where the aerie had torn itself apart, but I hadn’t known that the griffins had given the event a name. A name that both chilled and saddened me.
“More than one in four griffin warriors perished in the Council chambers,” Shaw continued. “Many of those remaining belonged to the Valkir Pride, which hath seceded from the aerie. Finally, the Council seems to believe Dayna’s claims of a Dark Power on the move. So they husband their remaining strength by pulling as many drakes and reeves as they can back to Aerie.”
“I cannot blame them, in truth,” Galen said, as he turned to me with the last two items in hand. “The smaller scroll is a copy of the rules regarding the selection of a Champion for the Spring Tournament. The other is yet another summons. This one results in part from our fight against the Creatures of the Dark.”
I took the scrolls from him, setting the smaller one aside. The naturally sweet scent of beeswax tickled my nose as I turned the larger scroll over to look at the seal. To my surprise, there were a pair of seals attached to the parchment.
Fitzwilliam’s crown-shaped imprint had been pushed into the reddish blob of wax that held the roll together. But next to it was a broken seal. This one was purple, marked by the remains of a U-shape.
I frowned and tapped a finger against the remains of the purple blob. “This is odd. I don’t recognize the purple seal.”
“It would be surprising if you did, as it does not originate from any human demesne. In fact, it’s from the court of the Centaur Realm – specifically, it was written by my father, King Angbor.”
That surprised me. I’d met Skallgrym Angbor of the House of Friesain months ago, back when I’d first been summoned to Andeluvia to solve the murder of Good King Benedict. Angbor was a big, hairy, brute of a centaur. While I’d eventually won his respect, part of me was astonished that he knew how to write.
Galen rubbed his chin as he explained further. “Apparently, my father wrote directly to King Fitzwilliam with a request. His Majesty chose to scribe his answer on the same message scroll and send it to you.”
Now this began to worry me. Messages like these just didn’t bode well in Andeluvia.
I took a breath, as if I was about to dive into a very small pool of water from a very high platform. Then, I broke the red seal and unwrapped the scroll. I scanned the contents, reading as carefully as I could given some of the terms used.
Yup, it didn’t bode well.
Just my rotten luck.
“Fie on thee, Dayna,” Shaw chided. “Do not keep the rest of us waiting as to the contents.”
My two friends gazed at me expectantly as I looked up from the scroll. I sucked in a deep breath before I started. Whatever else, my future looked to include travel as part of it. Again.
“King Angbor has a problem with a centaur,” I began, as I glanced back at a specific phrase. “A centaur that has committed an act of sacrilege regarding the ‘Ceremony of Equilux’.”
Galen’s tail flicked, and he stomped a forehoof. Rather than the usual ‘clack’, it made a muffled thump. The surplus, out-of-date rugs were coming in handy.
“Angbor has therefore called upon the treaty,” I continued, “that binds the Kingdom of Andeluvia and the Centaur Realm. He asks for Dame Chrissie to be allowed to attend his court, no later than three days from now, in order to determine the truth or falsehood of the accusations. Under that, Fitzwilliam’s written his approval for me to travel as his ‘personal representative’ to Bloodwine Holt and take up the case.”
Shaw quietly ruffled his feathers. “‘Tis quite an honor. I wish I could go with thee.”
“That goes double for me, big guy,” I said, as I reached out and smoothed the feathers on the top of Shaw’s head. The big drake let out a purr. “Galen, is this as serious as it sounds?”
“I must confess so,” he agreed. “I’ve never heard of anyone violating one of my people’s most sacred rituals.”
I considered for a moment. “So, you’re familiar with this ceremony?”
“Oh, quite. When I was but a colt, I was one of the ‘Keepers of Equilux’.”
That sounded like Galen had been the equivalent of an ‘altar boy’. The role sort of fit him. But I pounced on what I needed in the here-and-now.
“You know, I could use someone who’s familiar with centaur society. Specifically, with this very ritual. And if Shaw’s going to be on assignment, then I’d like at least one of my friends to be at my side.”
Galen actually hesitated. His hooves shifted back-and-forth on the carpet as if profoundly concerned. His behavior truly surprised me.
Finally, the Wizard asked, “Is Liam not available either?”
“Afraid not. The Protector of the Forest has been wanting to accelerate the training of his rangers for some time now, and I encouraged him to return to the Grove of the Willows to do so.”
“We might not see yon fayleene for a fortnight or more,” Shaw added. “‘Tis quite a hardship for me to be without his companionship, especially since I get so hungry–”
“Then I suppose that I shall accompany you,” Galen said, cutting the drake off before he could get into trouble with me. “King Fitzwilliam has encouraged me to visit my homeland in the past. I believe that I shall acquiesce and take leave of the Royal Court for a while.”
Shaw nodded approval. “‘Tis the right spirit, Wizard!”
“No, hold on a minute,” I said, as I moved to stand between centaur and griffin. “Galen, what’s the problem? I thought…well, since you and your father reconciled, that it would be okay.”
“Your logic is impeccable,” Galen agreed, though he shifted uncomfortably on his hooves as he did so. “However, my concern comes from emotions…which are not amenable to logical argument. I must confess that I’ve been nerving myself to return to the Centaur Realm for a good length of time.”
“Surely, thou cannot harbor fear of home,” Shaw said, though he turned back to me. “Or canst thou?”
“There is such a thing, called nostophobia,” I reasoned. “It’s just what you said, Shaw. It can be triggered by memories of a time when home was…well, less than perfect.”
“I believe you have correctly defined my concern,” Galen said. “Dayna, as I once told you, it was difficult to have Angbor as a sire. Many memories of my colthood are shame-filled and embarrassing.”
I reached up and put my hand on his arm. “Galen, you may understand the ceremonies of your culture, but there’s more important things at stake here. I wouldn’t ask one of my friends – one of my family – to do anything that makes them feel uncomfortable.”
Galen took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “And as part of that family, I wouldn’t shirk any duty to you, no matter how noisome. I shall be fine. King Fitzwilliam himself suggested I go with you, even though he is also familiar with my concerns. His advice struck me as both sagacious and prudent.”
“Perhaps you could share it?”
He smiled as he did so. “His Majesty said, ‘Your past does not define you. Your past simply prepares you for who you shall become.’”
“Then I shall sleep well at night,” Shaw declared, “knowing that Dayna’s safety is borne upon your surefooted hooves.”
No sooner had the griffin announced his approval than a harsh rap-rap-rap came from the door. It didn’t sound like the heavy thump of a centaur or fayleene hoof, or the softer knocks given by the royal pages. I glanced at Galen, who shook his head; he didn’t know who it was either. He let my hand go and trotted over to open the door.
Master Seer Zenos swept in, all wild-eyed and bushy-haired. His Staff of Stunning made the same rapping sounds on the flagstones as it had on the door, at least until he reached the closest section of carpet.
“My apologies for not formally scheduling a time to visit, Dame Chrissie,” he announced, as he bent forward for a moment in a sweeping bow. “Time is urgent, and I could not waste it on formalities.”
“That’s fine, I understand,” I said, as I made a stiff little bow back. “You’re always welcome, Master Seer. Though I can’t help but wonder about the reason for your visit.”
“The reason for my visit?” The old man’s face lit up with a fervent glow. “Why, to speak of my favorite subject! The doom and destruction of all we hold dear!”
Shaw gave a skeptical griffin snort. Galen crossed his arms, a scowl on his face.
Sheesh. And I thought that I never got invited to parties.
Chapter Five
Well, this was a new experience.
In Los Angeles, I’d bumped into people that reminded me of Master Seer Zenos. Most spent their time wandering around the streets wearing a pair of sandwich boards that hung from their shoulders on straps. The boards were typically painted with some variant of the phrase Repent - The End Times Are Nigh!
But here in Andeluvia, they apparently made house calls.
“Um…” I said intelligently, “before you get into the gory details, how about a seat? Maybe a cup of tea? I just got some ‘House Mouse’ blend from Albess Thea last week.”
“I shall accept the seat,” Zenos said. He shuddered as he added, “However, I think I will pass on the tea. “House Mouse’ isn’t exactly tailored for a human’s palate.”
“True. Not enough mouse flavor, that’s for sure.”
Zenos squinted at me, trying to figure out if I was joking. Shaw nudged a chair forward with his beak. The old soothsayer took it gratefully and rested his staff across his lap.
“Since the world shall end soon in fire and destruction,” he began, “I need to proffer my thanks to you while I can. It is not often that someone speaks up in my defense at court.”
“I suppose not,” I said, before adding, “Maybe it’s your delivery? Perhaps people would pay more attention if you…I don’t know, moderated yourself a bit? You get more flies with honey than vinegar, that sort of thing.”
“One might indeed get more flies with honey than vinegar. But one would also get more flies with a pile of fresh manure than the honey.”
“Crazy thou might be,” Shaw chuckled roughly, “but slow witted thou art not.”
“My thanks for understanding that, wise drake.” Zenos sighed. “What we soothsayers say is always listened to with a jaundiced ear. No one will pay you for the truth, you know. People only pay to hear what they want to hear. It’s why so many members of my profession are considered frauds.”
To be honest, I’d never thought about it that way. And Zenos’ predictions, while hard to stomach or understand, had never actually been wrong. It was a bracing tonic, one that might not go down easy.
Zenos leaned forward and fixed me in his gaze. “Allow me to ask you a question, Dame Chrissie. Would you rather be told a lie that felt good and was self-evident? Or would you rather be told a truth that you may not like, nor immediately understand?”
I pursed my lips in thought for a moment, but there really wasn’t any contest.
“All else equal, I’d rather be told the truth.”
The soothsayer broke into a snaggletoothed grin. “I know we started off rather poorly, Dayna. But I think that is why, in the end, we grew beyond that and understood each other.”
I grinned back, but my insides still felt a little fluttery as I sat down. “Okay, I’ve braced myself. Let’s hear this unlikeable, less-than-clear truth.”
“Last night, I found my slumber troubled,” he began, in a surprisingly soft voice. Galen and Shaw drew closer to listen in as he spoke. “I entered a state that we seers call a ‘near-dream’. It’s an unsettling feeling, where one feels that they are but a ghost. But one also knows that they are witnessing events as they may – or may not – happen.”
I sat straight up at his words.
That sounds like what I said to Esteban, I thought. About the dreams I had before visiting the Seraphine. The one with Destry in it, and the other of the man and woman in a wizard’s duel.
“I see you are familiar with this kind of dream,” Zenos said, with a knowing glint in his eye. “That is good, very good. You know the power of these visions, even if they are not understood in the strong light of day.”
I nodded, afraid to speak. Zenos went on.
“I dreamt that I was in a strange place. Yet, while I had never seen it before, it also felt strangely familiar. That sounds odd, but it does not feel so when in the near-dream state. I sensed that I was ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ at the same time.”
“I must confess that makes little sense to me,” Galen said critically. The soothsayer waved off the objection and went on.
“I felt as if I were an insect crawling upon the palm of a skeleton’s hand. There was a heaviness to the air. Dark shapes surrounded me. Feelings of vengeance, of conflict, of blood-lust. I heard a distant bell. Then screams, the sound of blades, and the stealthy, horrible sound of a swarm of insects taking flight.”
I suppressed a shudder. If I belonged to Zenos’ profession, I’d have done my best to cut a deal with the pooka to leave me alone. Or I’d be popping sleeping pills like ginger candies.
“It was then that I heard a voice booming out into the night,” he said. “It spoke as if reciting lines from a poem composed by long-forgotten gods. These repeated themselves in my head until I finally woke.”
“Is it okay if we take this down?” I asked, as Galen stepped around the table and snatched up a piece of chalk. Zenos nodded, speaking slowly enough for the Wizard to write out the words.
A son of the third house turns hope into a lie.
A swarm of spirits reach for the sky as the silver orb escapes its cradle.
A newly risen sibling wakes and reaches out to murder their twin.
I stared at the verses with a sinking feeling. As with the scroll from Galen’s father, I just knew that nothing good was going to come from this. Andeluvian prophecy never seemed to point to anything happy, like the fact that someone was about to win the lottery.
