The Council of Whitestone
Garron breathed deeply, letting the fresh air seep into his lungs and press his ribs outward, stretching his torso. He rolled his shoulders and squinted in the morning light. It was hard to describe the effect open air and sunlight made inside him. He’d been in the dungeons for so long, and the sun touched his skin for the first time in months. Standing on the balcony overlooking Whitestone, Garron let a tear escape.
He heard people arriving inside the council chamber. Representatives from across Tarrine were gathering to discuss the situation. It amazed him what his cousin had done in his short time as king. For a moment, Garron wondered if he could have done the same.
No. You couldn’t have, he thought. You were too busy letting a sorcerer twist your mind. You were weak. Pernden was strong. That’s the difference.
A series of boisterous greetings erupted in the chamber behind him. How people from different races knew each other and shared a bond he had never thought possible before the wicked sorcerer from Kelvur had come fascinated him. In a strange turn of events, something so terrible had brought peace amongst the peoples of Tarrine.
How does such a great threat unite a people so? Garron wondered. It is a great mystery.
Suddenly, the curtain wafted wide, and Ellaria strolled out. She didn’t say anything but placed her hands on the railing of the balcony and leaned as though it were the only thing holding her up. She blinked several times and bit at her lip, trying to compose herself.
“Are you alright?” Garron asked softly, stepping toward her.
A short huff escaped her lips, and her chin quivered. She shook her head and turned away as the tears conquered her tightly squeezed eyes.
“Ellaria,” Garron said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
Before Garron could say anything else, Ellaria turned and melted into his arms.
Garron held her awkwardly in the first embrace he’d experienced in months. He brushed her flying red hair back with his hand and squeezed her tightly.
“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now,” he consoled her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling herself away and wiping the tears. A pang ran through Garron. He immediately missed the embrace.
“No. It’s alright,” he said. “It’s a strange thing. I remember when I thought Orin was dead. It was an amazing surprise when he returned, and you were one of the ones who brought him back to us.”
“But we don’t know what’s happened to Merrick. He could be dead. He could be hurt. There’s no knowing.”
Garron nodded. “Here’s what we do know: there is a whole room of folks in there right now who are going to figure out a way to get him back. And I have no doubt they will.”
Ellaria bobbed her head, sniffed, and wiped her face again. She blew out a determined breath and nodded to Garron as though she believed his words.
Her face shifted into an awkward half-hearted smile. “I came out here to get you. They’re ready to start.”
Garron winced. Aside from the fact that he’d enjoyed feeling the sun on his face, he’d also been on the balcony to avoid the gathering crowd. Since his imprisonment, he’d only interacted with Pernden, Dona, Ellaria, and Orin. Garron wasn’t sure how to face the people in that room. How could he? He’d been the source of so much pain.
As if Ellaria could read his thoughts, she reached out and squeezed Garron’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll do this together.”
Garron took one last glance across the city of Whitestone and followed Ellaria through the curtained doorway.
“There’s one last thing,” Smarlo said to the gathering.
The orc mage had recounted the events of the attack in Calrok as best he could. Ralowyn filled in the details of the story where she had been directly present. Most listened in silence, nodding here or there. Occasionally, someone gasped in surprise. Overall, the people in the room listened with great interest, trying to wrap their heads around all the details.
Garron could hardly believe all he had heard.
From his robe, Smarlo produced the tiny piece of parchment. The markings on it appeared to be different from the last time he’d looked at the piece. He shook his head and laid it out on the table. “This piece of parchment is the blank one I mentioned before.”
Everyone around the table leaned in for a better look. Garron, however, leaned further back. A foreboding feeling made him seek to get as far from the paper as possible—as if the slip of parchment radiated a repelling force.
“It doesn’t appear to be blank,” Pernden said, a confused look on his face.
Lanryn gasped and turned to Ralowyn, who sat beside him. “Is that what I think it is?”
Ralowyn nodded to the elf mage but said nothing.
“Dark tongue,” Argus murmured. The old dwarf stared at the parchment in disbelief.
“Do you know how to read it?” Smarlo asked.
“No,” Argus replied. “Not many can. The letters of dark tongue are always shifting. One cannot read it like a normal inscription. One must be in a certain … state.”
Smarlo sat back in his chair, disappointed. He scratched at his long green ear. He had hoped Argus, being a well-traveled mage with great power and knowledge, would be able to translate the note.
“Is there a way to induce this state?” Lanryn asked.
“It is not so simple,” Argus sighed. “Only one who has been touched by the dark magics can read it. And even if one of us were, I do not know how it works.”
“This parchment is the last clue we have,” Smarlo said.
“I wonder if I could read it if we knew how,” Ezel signed to Coal.
“Bah,” Coal waved the notion away with a grumble. “We’re not even sure the sea witch used dark magic on you.”
“What sea witch?” Garron asked.
All of a sudden, the room went quiet, and all eyes fell on him. Garron shifted nervously under everyone’s stares.
“How did you …” Coal murmured.
“Can you understand me?” Ezel signed.
Garron’s eyes darted to each side, avoiding the little gnome’s gaze.
After a long silence, Argus Azulekor spoke again. “Was there a sea witch in the story that I missed?”
“No,” Coal said. “Ezel was asking if I thought it possible that he was touched by dark magic when the sea witch saved his life all those years ago, but that’s a story for another day. We need to figure out a plan to get Merrick and Karnak back.”
Garron was thankful for the change in subject. As the conversation continued, he looked across the table at Ezel. The deep gnome stared at the man in bewilderment from his chair, which was piled high with books to elevate him above the table’s edge.
“There’s more going on here than we understand,” Pernden put in. “I agree that we need to find our friends. It appears that our dealings with the sorcerer Jaernok Tur are not yet finished.”
“And how do you propose we get across the Gant Sea to save them, my King? We don’t even know how far Kelvur is,” High Commander Mattness said. “Attempting to fly our griffins, or even the pegasi, could mean certain death.”
“What of the mirrors?” Ralowyn asked Argus.
“I dare not attempt anything with them,” the old dwarf said.
“We still know very little about them,” Lanryn added. “I have been searching the annals at Loralith but have yet to come across even a mention of the Alkhoren Mirrors.”
“That’s why I’ve brought Captain Tin,” Orin cut in.
Everyone turned toward the captain, except Ezel and Garron, still locked in a staredown. Garron heard none of the discussion around them. The little gnome’s look captivated him. Slowly, Ezel signed, “Can you read the parchment?”
I don’t know, Garron thought with a slight shake of his head.
“Why don’t you look at it?”
“I’m afraid,” the man signed back, though he did not realize he’d done so.
Ezel started, surprised by the man’s response. “How …?”
Garron looked at his own hands, wondering how his mind had known how to maneuver them in reply. His thoughts raced. What was happening to him? He had no explanation, only that he somehow understood the gnome’s language.
Fear gripped him. A great pull urged him to look at the parchment on the table. His body tensed in revulsion as he blinked and twisted to get the parchment further from the corner of his eye.
Ezel’s eyes glanced between the parchment and the man. “You may be the only one of us who can read it. You must. It may be the difference between life and death for our friends,” the gnome signed.
“I can’t,” Garron signed, a pleading expression on his face.
Suddenly, Ellaria placed her hand on his arm. Her emerald eyes pierced his own, and the warmth of the woman’s hand on his arm strengthened him. Garron swallowed his fear.
He glanced once more at the gnome across the table. Ezel nodded, urging him onward.
Garron turned toward the parchment. His eyes widened as the inked letters appeared to have mirrored shadow letters a couple of inches above the parchment. He stared hard at them as the markings faded in and out of view, shifting and morphing into words.
Pernden rubbed his temples and asked, “Captain Tinothe, can the Sellena even make the voyage across the sea?”
The others paused, and the elder man scratched at the stubble on his chin. “There may be no other ship in Tarrine that can.”
“Would you take us to Kelvur?” Orin asked frankly.
Pernden watched the captain take stock of his younger brother. The old captain’s face lightened, and it seemed to the king that the elder man had taken a liking to Orin.
“I would be willing,” Captain Tin said, with a pensive nod. “But my crew are fishermen. Best any of them have done is fight off pirates, and most of them are too young to have experienced even that. The ones who have are too old for much fighting.”
“Of course,” Pernden said, taking the opportunity to build some rapport with the man. “We will send a squadron of guardians with you.”
“The Talon Squadron will accompany you,” Nera said.
Pernden felt as though the blood drained from his body. Dread swept over him. “No,” he blurted.
“No?” Nera and High Commander Mattness asked at the same time.
“No …” Pernden repeated. But for the life of him, he could not string more words together.
“The Talon Squadron is the best-equipped squadron in the Guard for such a mission,” Nera pressed.
“My King, it is the most obvious choice,” Mattness added. “Talon is the only squadron to send on a mission with so many unknown variables. As the High Commander, it is my duty to ensure the optimal results for any mission. The only squadron right for this mission is the Talon Squadron.”
“I …” Pernden had no argument. They were right, of course. He stared at Nera, not wanting her to go.
She understood his unspoken words, drew her lips together, and nodded solemnly.
“‘A beacon in the dark can guide the march.’”
Pernden turned to his cousin. Garron’s gaze was glued to the parchment in front of Smarlo as he spoke. The room fell silent for the second time at his cousin’s words.
“What did you say?” the king asked.
“‘A beacon in the dark can guide the march,’” Garron said in an exasperated tone.
“He reads the parchment,” Argus whispered.
“Shh,” Garron hushed him. “There’s more,”
Everyone in the room held a collective breath and leaned forward. Pernden stared, dumbstruck. What is this magic?
“The rest of it doesn’t make any sense …” Garron trailed off.
“What does it say?” Pernden prodded.
“‘From the mouth let waters flow. Release the tide to flood below.’”
“Some sort of riddle?” Lanryn’s face scrunched as he turned to the other mages.
“Perhaps …” Argus mumbled.
“Something to do with the mouth of a river?” Ralowyn suggested. “Perhaps they intend to send ships?”
“Sea vessels don’t tend to do well on rivers,” Coal pointed out.
“Nor do river boats do well on the sea,” Orin grumbled, thinking back to their bumpy travels on the Lady Leila in the Tandal Sea.
“Aye,” Coal nodded.
“‘A beacon in the dark’ could be the stars. Sailors use the stars to navigate the waters at night,” Captain Tin said.
“Maybe an army plans to strike at night,” Commander Mattness suggested. “Maybe they plan to march on a certain night when the constellations are aligned?”
“I don’t understand the part about flooding below,” Coal said. “A wizard was able to save us on the stormy Tandal Sea by using powerful magic to create a tunnel for us to pass through in safety. I doubt the sorcerer has magic as great as a wizard.”
“Dark magics are strange magics,” Argus pointed out.
The conversation went in circles for a long while as Pernden pondered the words. A beacon in the dark can guide the march. From the mouth let waters flow. Release the tide to flood below.
Everyone in the room seemed to have some input on what the riddle could mean, except Smarlo. Pernden stared at the orc mage. The slender orc’s long green ears twitched as he sat deep in thought.
Suddenly, Smarlo looked up, and his eyes met the king’s. His face blanched, his usual green seeming less bright and more sickly.
“Silence!” Pernden shouted. All talking ceased. “What is it, Master Smarlo?”
The gathering turned toward the orc.
“I didn’t consider it at first, but it just dawned on me,” he said quietly.
“What is it, Smarlo?” Ralowyn asked in an encouraging tone.
“The stone-faced creature, before he was killed, said something about the tide of war washing us all away.” He paused, trying to piece everything together and relay his ideas in a coherent way. “What if the flood is an army?”
“But how does an army cross the sea underwater?” Coal asked incredulously.
“They don’t,” Smarlo said quickly. “Unless they’re under the water.”
“What?” the dwarf blurted. His face scrunched, and he tugged at the braid in his black beard as though the act might help his brain comprehend what in Finlestia the orc was talking about.
“The Underrock …” Ralowyn said, her eyes widening.
“Exactly,” Smarlo said. “Argus, the magic you used for the Shells of Callencia—can a similar magic be used to set a beacon that someone could sense from far away.”
“Well,” Argus hemmed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t seen such a thing myself, but it’s conceivable.”
“Smarlo,” Pernden cut in. “What am I missing?”
The orc glanced at Ralowyn who nodded a reluctant affirmation that she was reaching a similar conclusion as the orc.
“In ancient writings, magical incantations have been described as flowing waters that come from the mouth,” Smarlo explained. “I think the parchment is instructions for someone to utter the words of an incantation to light a beacon. Well, not really light it, but activate it somehow.”
“What kind of beacon and where?” Pernden prodded, tired of riddles.
“A beacon that would help an army navigate the maze of the Underrock.”
“The Underrock?” Captain Tin asked, his mustache bristling.
“Yes,” Smarlo continued. “The Underrock expands far below our feet and is made up of the deepest caverns and tunnels in our world. Grave dangers and wicked creatures lurk there. Most mines do not reach the depths of the Underrock. The cave systems span miles and miles in all directions like a vast web. No one knows how far they reach. The Underrock could reach every part of Finlestia for all we know.”
“Is this even possible?” Pernden asked. “Could an army use the tunnels of the Underrock to come into Tarrine? Even under the Gant Sea?”
“I don’t know,” Smarlo said. He hesitated for a moment. “I’ve been reading a tome by the old master miner Kanjor Pukra. I’ve been fascinated by some of the things they witnessed in the mines of northern Drelek. He mentioned a mine where they dug into a cavern underneath an alpine lake. It’s entirely possible that the Underrock has tunnels that traverse underneath the sea.”
“And they could lead the army here?”
“Wherever the beacon is, as long as someone started the beacon with the proper words they—” Smarlo jumped to his feet. “The dark tongue in the mines of Calrok! That’s why the assassin is still there.”
“Master Tan-Kro,” Ralowyn said, also leaping to her feet.
“I told him exactly where I’d found the dark tongue. If the assassin hadn’t found it yet, she could have followed Master Tan-Kro. I may have sent him to his death.”
Debate and deliberation ceased after they realized the implications of the dark tongue on the parchment. They decided to tackle the threat on three fronts: Calrok, Whitestone, and Kelvur.
Nera gathered the team going to Kelvur. She would command the expedition on the trek across the sea with the help of Captain Tin. They decided to separate the holders of the Shells of Callencia in hopes that they would be able to communicate more effectively than the normal pigeon or raven message carriers.
“Do you think the shell will work across the sea?” Nera asked Lanryn.
“Truly, I do not know. We have had no chance to test it,” the elf mage confessed.
“Perhaps you can use your wand to strengthen the shell’s abilities,” Ralowyn suggested.
“Perhaps,” Lanryn replied with a contemplative look.
“Boehlen’s Beard! Why are we standing here, jawing?” Coal blurted. “We need to get out there.”
Nera bit her lip, reminding herself to respond with patience and compassion. She knew the dwarf was worried about his friend. Pernden had assigned her command of the mission, though, and it was her responsibility to make sure the mission was a success. To her, that meant coming home with everyone alive, if at all possible.
“Be patient, my friend,” Nera said to the dwarf. “We have much to prepare in a short time. Or would you like to get halfway across the sea without provisions and starve the entire crew?”
Coal grumbled to himself but said nothing audible. Orin nudged the dwarf, and he quieted.
“Captain Tinothe,” Nera turned to the elder man.
“Tin is fine, ma’am.”
“Captain Tin,” she said with a nod. “How long will it take to procure the necessary provisions for such a journey?”
“Well,” he hemmed. “I don’t know how long the journey will be, but Whitestone’s market is impressive. I’m sure we could gather everything here, and if you know a good wagoner, we could be off to Kane Harbor to load the ship by morning.”
“Good. Go,” Nera said. “I’ll have the Talon Squadron ready and arriving in Kane Harbor by first light.”
Captain Tin gave a slight bow to Nera and whirled for the exit.
“Orin, I need you to hire a wagoner. Ask Master Feink if you don’t have someone in mind. He should have a good idea who would be interested in making the trek to Kane Harbor tonight.”
“Yes, Captain,” Orin replied, his guardian training kicking in. “Anything else I can do to help prepare?”
“Captain Tin will need help in the market. You know where everyone is. Once you solicit the wagoner, help the captain. Ezel, can you help them?”
The little gnome looked from Nera to Orin to Coal. “I’m not going with you,” he signed.
“What?” Coal barked.
“I don’t understand,” Nera said.
“He’s not coming with us,” Orin explained.
“Not coming with us, my foot,” Coal grumbled. “What do you mean you’re not coming?”
Ezel hesitated then signed, “The last thing the crew of the Sellena needs on such a treacherous mission is me on board. They’re going to be scared enough. I’ll only make things worse for them.”
“That’s just foolishness!” Coal signed back emphatically. “We’re going to need you out there.”
“You’ll already have two magic wielders in Ralowyn and Lanryn. You’ll be fine. They’re both skilled mages.”
“What about Merrick?”
“Merrick has a whole squadron of the Griffin Guard coming to rescue him, not to mention Orin and you,” Ezel signed.
Coal paused, breathing hard. His signing softened. “But what about me? What am I going to do without you? We’ve always done things together. We’re a team.”
Ezel stepped closer to the dwarf and patted his oldest friend on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. There is no one I have more confidence in than you.”
Coal’s nose twitched. He sniffed and wiped the tickle away from his nose onto his sleeve. “And what about you?”
“I think I can help Garron. I don’t know how yet, but I feel I’m supposed to help him,” Ezel flourished and nodded toward the man.
“Well, off you go then. And keep yourself safe. I don’t want to have to save you after we find Merrick,” Coal said aloud with another sniff. He cleared his throat and turned back to Nera. “I can help with the captain. Ezel will be going with the others.”
“Alright,” Nera said. “Let’s get to it then.”
“I am going with them to Kelvur,” Ellaria growled.
“You can’t,” Pernden said with a deep sigh. “I need you to go to Calrok with Garron.”
Ellaria let out an incredulous laugh. “Me brother is out there somewhere, and he needs me help!”
“I’m sending the best people I can to find him.”
“And that’s why I’m going,” she sneered.
“Do you think I like any of this?” Pernden snapped. “Do you think I want to send Nera across the sea to where that monster lives?”
Ellaria took an unintentional step backward toward the railing.
“I’m sorry,” Pernden said. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do so we can do the right thing.”
Ellaria slammed a fist on the balcony railing. Tears streamed down her face.
“Nera is the best of the best. You know how much Orin and Coal and Ezel love Merrick. And tell me you don’t feel better knowing that Ralowyn will stop at nothing to find him,” Pernden implored. “But I need you with Garron. I can’t go with him to Calrok. Dona has no fighting ability. No one else has spent any time with him except you. No one has helped him heal as much as you have.”
“He’s me brother,” Ellaria choked out.
“Let me take care of your brother. You take care of my cousin.”
Pernden’s eyes softened as he stepped next to the young woman.
“Just yesterday you had him in prison. What changed?” Ellaria asked.
“It’s hard to explain.” Pernden stretched, massaging the sides of his head, and ran his hands through his hair with a deep sigh. “His first thought when I told him what was going on was that we needed to rescue Merrick and Karnak—two people he’s never met. After that, he said we were going to need all the help we could get. It’s like he knows something we don’t, or at least senses something we don’t. I thought he might be able to add something to the meeting. Did you know he could read dark tongue?”
Ellaria shook her head. She thumbed the green stone hanging around her neck. “Every time I’ve visited him, I start by grabbing his hand and reaching within using the magic of this stone. At first, everything felt thick and heavy, like wading through the mud in a bog. Over time it got easier, as though the fog was lifting and the air was getting lighter. It’s hard to explain.”
“Sounds like we both have a lot of inexplicable feelings.” Pernden huffed as he leaned onto the railing. “Ellaria, I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing with my cousin. I know I’m sending the best people to find your brother. But the only way I can send the best people to Calrok is if you go with Garron. He’s the only one we know who can read dark tongue. So, he has to go. But what if he isn’t completely free of the sorcerer’s grasp? You’re the only one who can help him.”
Ellaria exhaled a deep sigh and leaned down on her elbows next to the king. She said nothing for a long while. Pernden wondered what she might be thinking. He was asking a lot from her, but what choice did he have? The whole situation had come crashing into his lap.
“They are the best, aren’t they?” Ellaria asked softly.
Pernden turned toward her. “They really are.”
Ellaria gnawed at the inside of her lip and nodded as though she were trying to keep herself from breaking into sobs. A single tear slipped out and rolled off her chin. She quickly wiped it away, stood up straight, brushed her red hair out of her face, and said, “I’ll go.”
Garron listened intently as Argus and Smarlo discussed some nuance of the Shells of Callencia that he did not understand. Argus was going to stay in Whitestone so that those in the city would have a way to communicate quickly with the others. It had been a critical factor in their victory against Jaernok Tur when they’d run him off before.
How did I get here? Garron wondered to himself.
Just that morning, Pernden had released him from his cell. He wondered if he wouldn’t rather be back in it. He hated that he could read dark tongue. He didn’t even know how he was able to do so. Though he still didn’t understand how he could read the Nari inscription in Kel Joran’s lost notes, that ability was much less menacing than the evil dark tongue.
Little fingers nudged his hand. Startled out of his own thoughts, Garron turned to see Ezel standing next to him, half the man’s height.
“Are you alright?” Ezel asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m fine,” Garron lied. He caught himself quickly and signed, “It’s just a lot.”
The deep gnome smiled at the man. “It always seems that way.”
Garron smiled back at the gnome. That was another thing he didn’t understand. How am I able to understand his language?
Ellaria abruptly popped up on his other side. “We about ready to go?” she asked.
“We?” Garron asked, stunned.
“Aye,” Ellaria nodded. She grabbed Garron’s arm and squeezed. “Who’s going to babysit you if Dona stays here? I’m pretty sure she’d miss Len far too much.”
“Who’s Len?” Garron asked.
“Her husband, you dolt.”
“You knew Dona had a husband?”
“Aye. Don’t tell me you never asked her about Len,” Ellaria scolded.
“Well … I …” Garron stumbled over his words and looked to Ezel for help.
“I don’t even know who Dona is,” the gnome signed and shrugged.
“Wow,” Ellaria said with a disbelieving nod at Garron. “Looks like you need more hand-holding than I thought.”
Garron gave her a sheepish grin.
Having finished his conversation with Smarlo, Argus turned to the grey gnome. “Ezel, what are you doing over here?”
“I’ll be going to Calrok with Garron,” he signed.
“With me?” Garron repeated aloud.
“What was that?” Argus asked.
“He says he’s going to Calrok with me,” the man shifted quickly. “With us.”
Smarlo and Ezel exchanged looks for a moment. Then, the orc mage grinned and said, “How far we’ve come.”
The gnome’s hand flipped quickly.
“How far, indeed,” Ellaria translated for the orc.
Garron gave Smarlo a curious look.
“I threw a concussive potion at him when we first met,” Smarlo confessed with an awkward shrug. “And her, actually. Sorry about that,” he said to Ellaria.
“We didn’t know we were on the same side yet.” She waved it off.
Smarlo nodded his thanks for her forgiveness.
“Well, I’d better head to the Whitestone Library and see Mistress Leantz before she heads home for the evening,” Argus said. “I’d like to take a look at some of the scrolls there. Swift flight to you all.”
And with that, the dwarf mage hurried off, his blue cloak fluttering behind him.
“Oh,” Garron started. “That reminds me. I’m going to need a ride.”