The Forgotten Tribe Read online

  Three mages—he assumed they were, anyway—sat upon some large misshapen boulders that seemed like misplaced stony thrones that had melted somehow. A tall bookcase stood in each corner and a thick wooden table rested in the center of the chamber. Three tapestries hung from the walls, each depicting the elements flourishing in one way or another. As he gazed at the orange-tinged weaving on the left, he thought it resembled a fiery sunset with wind blowing sand upon a small settlement, though the more he stared, the more he realized that he was only adding his own interpretation to the image, for it was just a random wash of hues.

  “State your name, child.”

  “I’m no child!” he barked, turning his gaze to an old woman whose body was so entrenched in her boulder that she seemed to be part of it.

  She forced her voice to soften. “Everyone is a child to me, deary.”

  “Urrith,” he answered after a moment. “Of Wraethen.”

  “Curious and puzzling,” the old woman commented. “If memory serves, Wraethen is north of Pindington, far to the east. You, however, arrived from the border with Hathreneir. Have you an explanation for such a discrepancy?”

  He brushed his locks out of his eyes and tilted his head to regard her, but aside from being the oldest person he had even met, he couldn’t judge anything else. “I was born in Wraethen. When I had trained enough I went to the king to be a soldier, but was sent to the outpost instead.”

  One of the male mages snarled. “So you’re a sympathizer for the king. Janning, why did you bring him?”

  The old man who had escorted Urrith there stepped from behind him to answer, “He was pursued by the hunters and on the verge of being slain. It seemed to me his life would be better dedicated to our cause than to the ground.”

  “The hunters?” Urrith asked.

  “Indeed,” the old woman said.

  “But it was just Ordren and his cronies. They were at the outpost with Gabrion for a while, and Ordren himself had been there for months before then in support of Gabrion’s quest.”

  “Sadly, no,” the matron contradicted. “We are aware of Gabrion’s journey, as well as the fact that the warrior actually tags along on Dariak’s quest, not the other way around.”

  Gabrion had essentially told Urrith as much, though he had never met any of the warrior’s other companions, unless seeing Kitalla unconscious in the healing chamber counted. “I thought Ordren just changed his mind against Gabrion when he took in the Hathrens. Are you saying that’s not the case?”

  “The king is aware of more than you know and he would not have allowed his key outpost to be manned by a third party. Ordren was always in the king’s employ, though we were uncertain about the details until his settlement into the outpost. You see, young Urrith, a bit over a year ago Gabrion and Dariak escaped execution with the help of their friend Kitalla, and the king does not forgive such a thing. Ordren and a host of others were sent across Kallisor in an effort to capture them.

  “At first, the team escaped one scuffle after another, and when they reached Pindington, Ordren used a new tactic. He managed to have his soldiers sequester the three fugitives without getting his hands dirty. But if they could escape under the king’s nose, then they certainly would attempt to flee a less-guarded dungeon.” She paused for a moment to consider. “Not that the Prisoner’s Tower wasn’t well-guarded, mind you.

  “Ordren bided his time and when the tragic events befell the city, he played the role of malcontent and helped the rest escape the city rather than take them back into custody. He gathered his most devious of soldiers and then they set out with a host of mages who wanted to join Dariak’s quest. It was the perfect cover to learn what the mage and his team were up to. And when they crossed into Hathreneir, Ordren orchestrated his departure from Dariak’s side, taking up the task of messenger to the king about the goings on.”

  Urrith scratched his head. “It’s such a long duration for such subterfuge.”

  “Some people are truly dedicated to their work.”

  “But why didn’t he just capture or kill them when he had the chance?”

  The old woman shrugged. “I would surmise the king gave new instructions at some point. Perhaps Dariak’s quest for the jades became known to the king and he wanted to wait until the pieces were assembled. I suppose that is what I would do if I wore the king’s boots.”

  “So then, who are you and how do you fit into the picture?”

  The old woman flashed a tender smile. “My name is Frethia, and we are all members of the Mage Underground, a not-so-secret society of magic users. As for how our interest connects to these events, I believe it should be obvious, even to one young as you.”

  He frowned at the dig against his age and considered. “Dariak’s quest for the jades. You want them for yourself.”

  “Astute,” she nodded. “Though perhaps not quite the way you might think.”

  “Then you don’t want to cause a huge upheaval to all the people of Kallisor by thrusting magic in their faces at every turn?” His lip twitched, trying to keep himself from smirking.

  She caught his suppressed laughter, and released the energy she instinctively pulled into herself. “Take care with your wit, child, for not all will understand such humor.”

  “Yes, Frethia.”

  “Though I will admit that some among our order would love the chance to do just that. Yet that is why we are here; to maintain order among the chaos. The Seven are not all old like the four of us. We take it as our duty to protect the Underground and to ensure none of our members push their luck too far.”

  Urrith assumed ‘the Seven’ were some sort of council so he didn’t bother asking. “You said your society isn’t very secret.”

  “Indeed. The Kallisorian king is aware of our numbers.”

  Urrith was genuinely surprised. “He can’t be!”

  “Well of course he knows, little one. Where else do his healers and mages train? How else does he develop new spells for use against the Hathrens, especially now that the tower in Pindington has fallen? How else does he clothe his soldiers in antimagic garments? He gets all of that knowledge from us.”

  Urrith staggered over to a boulder and sank onto it. The solid-looking surface conformed to his body as he sat down until it was perfectly comfortable. His mind raced, however. “But our king despises magic and he sends fighters out to squash mages everywhere. When I was just five, a set of them came to my town to take Seccina away because she was suspected of magic. It was terrible. They killed her father because he didn’t hand her over at their demand.”

  Frethia sighed sadly. “I didn’t say the king was merciful or kind or tactful or a dozen other things. I merely said he makes use of our skills. Why, it’s possible he rounded up your friend in an effort to recruit her so she would fight in his court when she matured.” She saw the confusion on the boy’s face and she pitied him. “You grew up in a warrior’s town in a land where magic is shunned. Yet healers abound in many settlements, employing the same energies as mages. The king has no quarrel with them, perhaps because he receives a percentage of their earnings.

  “But if you think about it, lad, we are always at the mercy of the mages of Hathreneir. What good are swords when the enemy can wave a hand and mutter the words for a fireball? Of course the king has defenses against them. And he maintains the secrecy of it because it is expected.”

  Urrith’s eyes opened wide. “Then Gabrion’s plan can work after all. The people on both sides really can come together. We all doubted it before because how would anyone here accept the Hathren mages? But you’re all here, aren’t you? And you have the support of the king.”

  “Not precisely,” Janning interjected. “He tolerates us as long as we are secluded down here. That is different than acceptance.”

  “I see.” Urrith nodded. “So if you’re not looking for total domination with the jades, then what are you looking to do with them?”

  Frethia’s smile was sinister. “Young Urrith, everything
we have told you so far is somewhat common knowledge. Our plans for the jades are not, so forgive me for denying your question. We still have the matter of your loyalty to determine.”

  “I’m loyal to Gabrion,” he answered readily. “It’s why Ordren wants me dead and why he killed the others.”

  “Perhaps,” Frethia said. “It certainly is plausible. Though Ordren fooled a great number of people before and if you hail from Wraethen, then it is possible that your family had dealings with Ordren in Pindington and you could very well be a spy working against us.”

  “I’m not!”

  “We will see, young Urrith. For now, join Janning and he will get you to food and a place to sleep. I suggest you indulge yourself while you can, for your time here comes with a cost.”

  “It seems everything has a cost,” he moaned.

  “Life is tricky that way.”

  Janning placed his hand on Urrith’s shoulder and pushed him back through the stone wall. The young warrior shook off the odd feeling of being crushed, deciding that he didn’t much like magic so far. As Janning took him down another winding path, Urrith considered the times in his life he had encountered magic, and as he did, he realized that he had never really seen it at all. Or, at least he had never seen a blatant use of magic. No spells had been conjured before his eyes or anything. He didn’t like the idea that words could hold the power to shape the world around him. The concept made his training feel useless.

  The kitchens were quite an experience for Urrith. Mages used their skills to prepare and serve the meals. In many ways, it was a place for them to show their prowess and finesse with certain magics. For instance, it took a team of six mages to brew a pot of tea, and watching them left Urrith’s jaw dropped open.

  The first mage took a round metal tray and set it on a wood table. He spread his fingers out wide with his middle fingertips touching, but his palms facing his chest. “Wrash’bnar korrithaur wraffentoen presh!” As he intoned the words, he slowly lifted his hands upward while curling them together until his thumbs touched. As Urrith watched, the metal tray warped and stretched upward into a crude teapot without a lid. The next mage waved her hands in a dramatic rhythm, casting, “Forrithur happsenar drefficant pe’arro.” Above the makeshift pot a mist coalesced and released a flood of tiny droplets.

  Two air mages joined their skills to levitate the filled pot in order to move it over to a metal grating. “Wesshian corribus etthena kaie.” Then fire was set below with rapid finger flicks and an incantation of, “Hekkontar querralan frai,” from the eldest of the mages working on the tea. At last, a wispy-haired woman crushed a set of herbs over the pot and let the bits sift into the boiling water. “Retricorius frethinius kaie broshe.” Within seconds, the room filled with the lush fragrance of the steaming tea.

  Urrith blinked at the ordeal a few times before shaking his head. “That was… really a waste of time and energy, wasn’t it?”

  Janning smirked. “I suppose it depends on how you view it, little one.” Urrith cringed with the new moniker. “It’s like when you spar or lift weights to become stronger. To an outsider, it looks ridiculous to perform such tasks for they don’t really accomplish much. But they make you stronger, and so you repeat them over and over again. It’s much the same here. We don’t always use our spells to move through walls and such.”

  “I’m both curious and baffled by what must be needed to make a stew.”

  This time Janning laughed. “Beast mages to tame the creatures used for their meat. Sometimes healers withdraw the body’s natural healing ability to kill the animal. Sometimes an air or water mage will suffocate or drown the poor thing. Nature mages, like here with the tea, release the most beneficial nutrients and flavors from the vegetables and herbs. And so on.”

  “And this helps you become better mages.”

  “Indeed. Now, I assume you are hungry? Shall I have a meal prepared for you?”

  Urrith nodded slowly. “As long as I don’t have to watch them make it. I think I’ve had enough magic for one day.”

  “Oh? You don’t support the arts?”

  He knew he had said something dangerous and he hoped it wouldn’t be held against him. “I never really saw much of magic, so this is all just a bit new for me.”

  “I see.” Janning didn’t seem too pleased with Urrith’s answer. “Very well, then let us go sit over here so you can idly wait.” They shifted over to another section of the kitchen and the mage had the youth sit with his back to the others so all he saw were random flashes of light on the wall. “Once you’ve eaten, I will take you to sleeping quarters. I will also ask Vinke to sit outside your chamber, should you need anything.”

  He was seventeen, but even Urrith understand what that meant. “I won’t wander around; I promise. You don’t need to post a guard.”

  Janning smiled sadly. “Yes we do, for we don’t yet know where your loyalties lie, in terms of our pursuits. Frethia told you a good deal for a stranger, and you need to think about the repercussions of what she said. If you feel that you can support us, then you’re welcome to remain under our protection while we discern how you may be the most useful. If, however, you have no wish to help or if, in fact, you intend to bring us harm, then have Vinke escort you from this place to a haven above ground. Then, you will never see us again. Under pain of death.”

  Urrith stared at the older man and blinked a few times in surprise at the announcement. “You would let me leave, knowing I might try to return and take you down?”

  “Good luck finding your way back in,” Janning grinned. “Vinke is a master in earth magic. He won’t be bringing you to some stairwell, you see. No, he would raise a platform and mash you into the earth and deposit you safely up above.”

  At first it sounded terrible, then Urrith realized he had already experienced the sensation. “Like when you pushed me through the wall.”

  “Precisely. But on a grander scale, is all.” Two plates were put in front of them by one of the kitchen mages and Janning lifted a fork to start eating, but before he took a single bite, he added, “Please keep this in mind, young Urrith. If you choose to stay, it must be because you are willing to support us. If we later learn that you are here under false pretenses, there will be severe penalties. And I do assure you, there are worse things than death.”

  Urrith gulped, then found a way to mechanically eat his meal.

  Chapter 16

  Carrus’ Support

  Kitalla and Carrus left the Hathren castle with a contingent of sixty fighters, only ten of whom had traveled with them before. The rest were soldiers of Hathreneir who believed in their king more than anything else. They accompanied Kitalla because Prethos had required it of them.

  She waited until they were safely away from the castle before turning to them and giving warnings and orders. “There are five of you to every one of us,” she noted, “but I requested this on purpose, because none of you stands a chance at defeating me. I thought if you had a lot of allies here, you would cooperate more. So I’ll give you a few minutes to sort yourselves out. Five of you to one of my men, not including me or Carrus. Go on, now, don’t dawdle.”

  “Our liege bade us follow and obey you, but this task is ridiculous,” one of them complained.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know all of your names yet. Are you one of the king’s generals? A chancellor? A page? A champion of food? Scrubber of halls? Anything? Ah, I see. You’re a grunt. Do what grunts do, and obey.”

  The man stammered, then shook his head, turning to his companions and splitting up as ordered. Carrus, however, looked at Kitalla with concern. He hadn’t known her particularly well, but her behavior seemed unusual.

  “Now that that’s all settled,” she said once the men and women had segregated into ten groups, “I’m going to take a page out of Ervinor’s book and, let me tell you, that really means something, because there aren’t too many books I’ve even read, much less model my tactics after.” She waggled her fingers in the air and
continued, “Now that you’re in ten groups, pair up into five groups.” She waited while they did so. “Good, now… You,” she said, gesturing to one set of fighters, “you’re the Nightingales. You stay to the north of us. You,” she said, pointing to the next set, “are the Eagles and will stay to the east. Wrens are to the west. Sparrows keep south. The rest of you are Ravens and will secure the center. Datch, Merrlis, Yllina, Paerra, and Ferithor… you’re the captains of each group, respectively. You all report to Carrus.”

  At this point, everyone was confused, for the five captains she had named were loyal to the king and not to her. The ten fighters from Ervinor’s army were taken aback and they required every bit of discipline not to say something. Likewise, Carrus adopted an expression as if he had known of this decision beforehand, but it took all of his restraint not to look at her like she was crazy.

  “Is there a problem?” Kitalla asked. “I’m quite willing to accept complaints at this time.”

  “I didn’t ask to lead some stupid group,” Merrlis whined, his face curled into a snarl. “I’ll follow and fight because the king asked me to. That’s all. Find another lackey.”

  Carrus rose up to his suddenly appointed role with haste. “You will address me, captain. You will not speak to Chancellor Kitalla directly if it involves matters of combat or your task. You will not question the orders of your superiors, soldier. Do you have a problem?”

  Merrlis looked at the enraged man and shrugged. “Why would you put someone like me in charge? It’s stupid.”

  Kitalla waved her hand toward Carrus, thanking him for whatever he was about to say but dismissing it too. “If you are unhappy with my decision, then let us work this difference out. First, I will not debate the finer points of my decision with you. Second, you will merely obey because it is expected of you. Third, if you cannot abide the first two rules, then you may battle with me right now and try to kill me. That’s the only way you will be released from your duty, Merrlis. You will have to render me inert.”