Ultimately, one walks this path alone.
Those who try to walk beside you are either
a hindrance or a tool for working your own ends.
—Malakin Keris, Telborian wizard king
Reigned 610 BV–572 BV
Night filtered through the pines which Cadrissa had been walking through with scant rest since she’d awakened in the roc’s clutches. Sweat had become like a gown upon her skin, reminding her of the other difficult treks she’d made through the Marshes of Gondad and Taka Lu Lama just days earlier. At least she wasn’t sloshing through water and jungles.
She’d stayed silent since their start, deep in thought and enjoying the unspoiled beauty around her. As in many things, reading about Arid Land was nowhere near the same as actually walking through it. Some things had to be experienced rather than explained. This line of thinking had caused her to ponder the life of an adventurer for a short while. But if she’d known saying yes to Gilban and Alara back in Haven would have led to all of this, she would have given the matter a greater amount of consideration.
“I need to rest,” Cadrissa stated meekly.
“Again?” Cadrith was less than pleased. The lich slowed to a stop while spying the tops of the trees. “We should be there soon. The darkness will only help our efforts.”
“Well, I’m going to need some rest before then.” Cadrissa collapsed with her back against a nearby trunk. “I can’t keep this up forever.”
“You won’t have to.” Cadrith’s comment was far from comforting.
“Just what do you need me to do anyway? If you’re a wizard king, I can’t really be of much help.”
Cadrith slowly stepped toward Cadrissa, his unliving body no more the worse for wear from their long hike. One advantage to being a lich, she supposed. Another was his chilled aura that helped to cool her down.
“The sooner I reach Galba the sooner we can part ways.”
“You never told me who Galba was.”
“The last gatekeeper on my path.”
“The path of power?”
“There’s no other path to speak of, and in just a short while I’ll claim the ultimate reward from it.” A lone owl’s hoot pierced the thickening night. “But that isn’t the path you’ll walk, is it?” Cadrith leaned forward on his staff with a glare that made her stomach turn. “You’re the curious sort . . . bound to the path of knowledge just like she was . . .”
Revelation dawned on the wizardess. “The clothing in the tower—those other robes—and the baby clothes . . .” Her tongue stopped moving when her gaze drifted to the infant skull adorning the lich’s staff.
“Which are nothing to you or me.” Cadrith straightened to his full height, his face more stone-like than before.
“Then why keep them?” She bit her lip when she realized she’d spoken aloud.
Cadrith’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Because at the time they had a purpose. But they, like other things, will soon outlive that purpose.
“You’ve rested enough,” he said, turning on his heel. “If you keep your mouth shut for the next couple hours I might allow you to sleep for the night.”
Cadrissa remained seated as she watched him depart. When he started to disappear amid the trunks and darkness, she forced herself to stand. Though throbbing and sore, she commanded her feet forward, hoping what Cadrith had said about sleep was true. If she was to be of any good to anyone—including herself—she needed to be as prepared as possible. That meant having her full strength and mental faculties about her. Which meant having to soldier through these next few hours. Dradin have mercy.
Somehow she persevered, and at last the two of them came to a halt. From what she could tell nothing really stood out from anything else she’d been seeing all day. She didn’t think that was a good sign for gauging their progress, but was too tired to give the matter any further thought. Finding a rough patch of open earth, she fell like a sack of rocks.
Cadrith located a spot a few paces from her and took a seat, resting his staff atop his crossed legs. He wasn’t far enough away to keep his cold aura at bay but at this point she didn’t care. She worked her cloak into a suitable pillow and yanked her boots from her sorely vexed feet. Cadrith watched with mild interest, like a tree himself.
“How much further do you think it is?”
“We’re close. You’ll need to be ready.”
“For what?” she asked, leaning on her elbow.
“Sleep fast. I want to be moving before first light.”
She was too tired to press for more. Since a new day would be fast upon them, she lay down to take what slumber she could. She’d worry about the matter of food and water tomorrow. She didn’t want to push more than she already had and knew even Cadrith would have to allow her some water—and maybe food—before long. He wanted her at or close to her best . . . at least for the time being. The only question was what spell did he think she was able to cast that could be of any help to him in getting to Galba?
The ability to wield magic was an inherited trait. Some believed it was passed on from the dranors, who many claimed were the forefathers of mortalkind. The handful of mortals who took the time to develop the talent for magic were able to wield influence and control over the sixteen cosmic elements. This was made possible by the strength of will, spirit, and inherited cistern of ability—often called a well—residing in each mage. It was this threefold force that made it possible to cast spells. However, the vessel that cast them was still given to the limitations of mortalkind. They also needed rest in order to recover from the pressures placed upon them during spellcasting.
Practice in making use of magic allowed a mage to grow in strength and ability. Their well was like a muscle in many ways: the more it was stretched—the more it was worked—the stronger it became, and the longer it could supply energy to the spells a wizard desired, for as long as their spirit and will could hold out. These, too, could be increased with continued effort, but it didn’t come easily. That was why magic was so disciplined and regimentally focused in nature.
If one let their craft slip long enough, they’d find their grasp of what they once had known greatly diminished. Cadrissa had learned this lesson at the academy, as she watched too many students take time off from their studies only to return weaker than they’d been before they left. It was this revelation that made her resolve to always be a student. And this experience with Cadrith was certainly going to teach her much . . . if she was able to survive it.
“It feels more like a tomb than a temple,” said Kendra. Cadrith had to agree. Of course both of them had had a hand in making it that way. Raston had sent them there earlier in search of some information, and they’d all eagerly complied. Well, most of them did. After the initial fighting, it was only he and Kendra who had remained to complete their mission. And because of that they were now able to make use of something else they’d discovered in the unique opening presented to them.
Endarien’s mountaintop temple was unchanged since that last visit. The fires had long burned out, of course, but the dead remained just as they’d fallen. Most had rotted away or been picked clean by the birds that called the mountain home. Fed upon by the very creatures they once revered—a fitting irony, he supposed. The stench of death was still present, but not as strong as it could have been, thanks to the birds. An ashy dust coated a few places and tainted the air, but he didn’t pay it much mind.
“Not too much of a surprise given how few hold to Endarien these days,” he said, peering at the hole in the ceiling where the Storm Lord had cast a bolt of lightning that had killed one of their fellow mages during their previous visit. While it might have frightened the others with them, it hadn’t stopped Cadrith from discovering the secret hidden in the chamber. “If this keeps up, it’ll be even easier to raise in rank once we return.”
He and Kendra had hurried to the temple and the hidden room where they’d first encountered the ancient dranoric knowledge and mosaic. Raston had coveted such insight and Cadrith had learned why. With his master away, and only Kendra and himself the last living beings inhabiting Raston’s tower, he felt it was time to follow the final part of his path and claim the ultimate reward. The longer he stared at the opened wooden door behind the remains of what had once been a statue of the great Endarien, the better he felt about doing so.
“A dranoric artifact in a temple to Endarien,” Kendra pondered aloud as she approached the door, enacting a spell that brought light to the previously hidden room. “It’s still amazing to think about.” Even from where they stood the two wizards could clearly see the circular mosaic on the wall facing them. “Imagine how long it’s stood there, and now here we are before it,” she said, clearing the threshold.
“Built in part to defy the gods,” Cadrith said as he joined her. “Fitting, I suppose, that we seek to do the same.” Everything was falling into place. He had command of the Mirdic Tome and knew how to operate the portal; and while he and Kendra waited, they’d grow in power before returning and laying claim to the throne.
“Just as you seek to defy your master.” Cadrith and Kendra spun on their heels, surprised to see Raston glaring at them from the temple’s battered entrance. Well . . . glaring as much as his ruined features could allow. He thought Raston’s eyes would go any day now, as there wasn’t much of anything left holding them in place. “So you’ve gone from wizards to thieves. But then I gave you ample opportunity to act, didn’t I?”
“We didn’t have time to wait.” Cadrith did his best to make himself sound obedient. He’d become quite skilled at doing so over the years and found himself falling back into it rather easily. “We’re closer to the end than ever.”
“Indeed we are.” The frigid chill that always flowed from the lich’s core fell upon his former pupils as Raston passed between them en route to the mosaic. “That’s why I wrapped up a few remaining things before I came here myself.”
“Then we can all leave together.” Cadrith noted the optimism on Kendra’s face and pitied her. She was still hoping this would end well. He knew better. It was clear what was going to follow. The question was, what was he willing to do about it?
“While you’d like that, I can’t allow it,” said Raston. “You’ve both outlived your usefulness, and I won’t permit any more competition.”
“But we stayed with you all this time, put up with you and all your ways—even served you well.” From the corner of his eye Cadrith watched Kendra’s countenance fall. For a moment he wanted to reach out to her—to comfort her—but shoved the thought aside. This wasn’t the time for such things. If they were going to achieve what they’d set out to do, it was time for each of them to look to a greater goal and put personal need aside. And right now that greater goal was surviving Raston’s wrath.
“Yes, but I no longer have need of you.” Raston focused his eyes on Cadrith as what flesh remained on his skull stretched into a smile. “Just as Cadrith thought to use me, so I’ve been using you—and it’s paid off well. I’ve had my research advanced, making the progress needed to bring us all here. So now”—the lich stretched a gloved hand his way—“if you’ll return what you stole from me, I might let you live.”
Cadrith knew it was a lie. Just as he knew there was nothing under his master’s gloves but frail, bony digits. He’d offer the same thing were he in Raston’s position. He knew how valuable the Mirdic Tome was. Even the short study he’d made of it showed there were greater things to be discovered that would allow him to rise even higher than Raston in power and place.
“You really trust us alive with your tower?” Cadrith stalled for time.
“Even as I speak, all items of note are being taken into the Tarsu’s charge, which I can retrieve after I’ve returned.”
“So then all you want is the throne.” Things were finally clear to Kendra. Good. The sooner she saw the truth, the easier it would be to help her embrace it, turn away from the foolish path of knowledge, and commit to the path of power—the only true path for any wizard to follow.
“That’s all it’s ever been about; all this—and you—were just a means to its end. Even my becoming a lich was only to buy time. Something you’ve both run out of.” Cadrith watched the empty sockets on the infant skull atop Raston’s staff glow with a strong purple light.
Before either of them could react they were enveloped with a flash of that same light and frozen in place. It was a simple spell, but cast from a powerful wizard. It would take Cadrith time to unravel it—if he could find a way to do so without being able to move or speak. As it was he could barely draw breath.
Raston raised his staff, beginning the spell to activate the mosaic. “Kelram Kor! Nuth-ral ackleem ishrem giltan giltan ock-roth!” Cadrith watched the tiles spin and turn with a violet light. He was going to do it. Raston was actually going to beat him. He’d open the portal, kill him and Kendra, take the tome, and leave them to rot. He’d been so close. So close.
A massive explosion suddenly shook the room, accompanied by a blinding white light. For a long moment all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Eventually, his eyes focused. He found himself lying on the debris-strewn ground with bits of rock and other pieces of the room where he and Kendra had been standing scattered all around them.
He noticed a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but he could move again. Whatever had happened broke Raston’s spell. Which meant he’d survived. But not for long if Raston was still about. Leaping to his feet, he immediately focused on Kendra, who lay prone a short distance from him.
“Kendra?” He raced to her side. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyes opened with a dazed flutter of lashes. “A-am I in Paradise?”
“Not yet. Are you hurt?” He cautiously helped her up, checking for anything that might show she was more wounded than she appeared. Miraculously, the two of them had survived the explosion in fair condition.
“I’ll live,” Kendra said, looking over Cadrith in turn. “And you?”
“The same.”
“What happened?” Kendra made a study of the once hidden room. What remained was a fragmentary wall which did little to cloak the mosaic from view. It wasn’t much use to anyone now. A large crack had torn across it like an open wound.
“Raston failed and destroyed our escape in the process.”
“And Raston?”
“I don’t see him.” Cadrith couldn’t find any sign of his former master.
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“Probably.”
“Then why didn’t we join him?”
“I don’t know.” It was a good question. One he’d ponder later. Right now they had to refocus their plans.
“So . . . we’re stuck here?”
“Only for the moment,” he said, starting to leave. “But if what he said was true about the Tarsu at the tower, we have to get back before everything’s gone.” They didn’t have a lot of time. He wasn’t sure how long the Tarsu had been in the tower, and if they were of sufficient number, they’d pick the place cleaner than the birds did the bones scattered around the temple ruins.
“But why would he turn to the Tarsu?” Kendra followed.
“I don’t know. But maybe we can strike a deal—”
“Hardly.” Raston’s voice drew Cadrith’s attention to a pile of debris at his feet. There, nestled in some of the rubble, was a skull with red flaming sockets. He was amazed he’d missed such a thing in his previous sweep of the room. “You won’t find the Tarsu to be that hospitable—at least not without me standing at your side.”
“I think your days of standing at anyone’s side are over.” Cadrith tried to hide his amazement at the sight. He failed. Raston should have been dead, crumbled to bone and dust like the rest of his body, but yet here he was—part of him, anyway. It only made Cadrith want to devour more of the Mirdic Tome and lay hold of all its secrets. Not far from the skull was Raston’s staff. Cadrith summoned it to his right hand while causing Raston’s skull to hover before them with his left. “And you’re hardly in any position, let alone condition, to worm your way into anything else.”
“Don’t be a fool, Cadrith!” The skull’s jaw opened and closed as if it still had muscles and tendons working the bone. “You don’t know everything—”
“Maybe not yet. But I will. And then—”
“It’ll be too late. The Vindication will come. You’ll be helpless before it.”
“I’ll never be as weak as you,” he said and formed his left hand into a fist, tapping into his well with all his hate and wrath. No protest or scream escaped the lich’s lipless mouth. The red tongues of flame simply winked out of existence as the old bones disintegrated into grainy dust, falling onto the debris-strewn floor below. He waited a moment, making sure there was nothing left of his former master—or anything else that would stand in his way.
Confident Raston was truly gone, he stormed from the temple, taking a strong hold on his new staff as he did so. It felt right to him, like it should have been his from the very beginning. Between the staff and the Mirdic Tome he’d have more than enough resources and power to tap into when the time came. He was now fully his own master, with a clear path to his final ascent into the highest ranks of power and glory.
Cadrith found himself again in Arid Land at night. He couldn’t say he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t need to anymore. It was more accurate to say he’d been lost in the past. It had been happening more often than he liked of late. He needed to be alert. While he might have been at the doorstep of triumph, it still wasn’t guaranteed. That’s why he made sure he’d kept his staff all these years. Taking it from Raston was one of the wisest things he’d ever done. It had helped keep him secure in the Abyss, after he’d weakened over the centuries. Now it would help make this final part of the process possible.
According to Raston, he’d created the staff from the skull of an infant godspawn. The offspring of a god or divinity and a mortal were rare, but there were many tales about them if you knew where to look. He’d thought it was mere boasting on Raston’s part at first, but upon reading the Mirdic Tome discovered how such a thing was possible. Now, having wielded the staff for so long himself, he knew his former master’s claims were true.
He’d never learned who sired the child, nor had he cared enough to investigate further than Raston’s notes that gave a semblance of a story. A woman had come to him seeking money for the infant. Raston had enough sense to see the potential that was there. After using it for a few experiments, he took the godspawn’s life and had its skull crafted into his new staff. While the staff resembled other enchanted objects of the age, it held a powerful secret that could be unleashed as a matter of last resort.
The godspawn had been killed in such a way as to tie its death throes and part of its potential power into the staff itself. When called upon, the staff could unleash the full fury of those throes and power on anyone or anything the wielder desired. Neither Raston nor Cadrith had used this raw power, since it would take the staff and possibly its wielder with it, but it was a suitable weapon against the most powerful of foes if and when needed. He’d been tempted a couple of times to tap into it but was glad he’d resisted. Doing so kept him free to use it with Galba when the time was right. He knew he wasn’t going to take the throne without a fight, and the staff would make sure that fight was brief at best.
He watched Cadrissa sleeping, noting how well she’d fared so far. He’d pushed her hard, he knew, but he also understood he had to be wiser about doing so in the future, lest he risk her life too soon. Her questions were starting to become annoying, but he soldiered on. Once they got to Galba it wouldn’t matter. She’d have served her purpose and he would finally have his prize. Contemplating the time to come and all the glory and power he’d soon embrace held his focus until the darkness faded into dawn.
“Get up,” he said, giving Cadrissa a kick. When she was too slow to respond he thumped the end of his staff against her head.
“It can’t be morning already,” Cadrissa said as she rolled onto her back, putting a hand to her eyes to keep out the light.
“We’re close now. We need to keep moving.” He watched as she forced herself to her feet, standing as strong as she could, preparing for what was next.
“How close?” the wizardess asked, running a hand through her tangled hair and bringing another memory of Kendra to mind.
“Close enough,” he said, stepping from Cadrissa’s side. “I assume you’ve been taught how two wizards can combine their wells for greater effect?”
“I’ve been told it’s dangerous.”
“To fools, perhaps. But with skilled mages it can be a great boon.” Cadrith watched her eyes widen as understanding of what he was proposing dawned across her features.
“You can’t be serious. Why would a wizard king want to combine his well with someone so much weaker?”
“It’s time for you to earn your keep. We’re going to cast another spell that will take us right to Galba.”
“I thought you did that before.” She was getting bolder the longer she was with him. Hopefully, questioning was all she was being emboldened to do.
“We need to make better time. Now that I’ve seen the lay of the land I can better pinpoint where we need to go.”
“I still don’t see why you need me,” she repeated. “You could have done all this on your own.” Cadrith watched another epiphany flash across her face. “You can’t cast any spells, can you?” She didn’t even try to hide her glee. “You haven’t cast one spell since we were attacked by the roc. Why else have we been walking all this time? If you were in such a hurry, you’d have cast another spell, and we’d have reached Galba a long time ago.”
A very clever girl. “Just get ready for the spell.”
“No,” Cadrissa said, defiantly crossing her arms.
“What?” Icy rage rose from the lich.
“You need me,” Cadrissa continued firmly, “and I want some answers.”
“So this is your attempt at a threat?”
“A bargain. I want to know what’s going on, why you abducted me to begin with, and why you’re trying to get to Galba. In return—”
“I’ll give you one more chance,” he said, towering before her and making sure to lock his gaze on hers. It helped to have eyes again to do this, which he made sure were glaring with hints of danger if she continued this foolishness. He needed to be as dramatic as possible if he was going to bring her to heel and have done with this tantrum.
For a moment they just stared at each other, unflinching in their resolve. Cadrissa did her best to remain strong, but Cadrith knew she was bluffing. “Prepare yourself to combine a spell. If you do, you’ll have all the answers you’ll need.” Cadrissa held his gaze for a moment longer before crumbling with a sigh. “You’ll need to open your mind and focus on the center of power close by. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” She sighed once more. “But this isn’t a safe practice. If we—”
“Just do as I say.” Cadrith masked most of his rage with a stoic but stern tone. He’d won; there was no need to risk stoking a new round of rebellion.
Cadrissa closed her eyes.
“Ready?”
“I think so.”
He drew still, focusing on his own well while reaching out from it toward Cadrissa’s. While he was blocked from casting any magic on Arid Land, as Cadrissa had deduced, he could still dip into the well of another to cast spells. She was right that it wasn’t the safest of ventures—for either participant—but being the greater skilled and more powerful, he believed he could minimize any potential threat. The added natural benefit which Cadrissa brought into the equation only bolstered his confidence.
Reaching up and dipping into her well, he siphoned the energy he needed, first casting a simple location spell for Galba. It was easy enough to find. In a land where magic isn’t known or practiced, there could be only one source for the swell of power he detected. They were closer than he thought! All the better. It would make for a less taxing spell, leaving Cadrissa available to tap into again once they’d arrived. Now that Galba had been located, he just needed to enact a transportation spell, which he began speaking. Both he and Cadrissa were enveloped in a violet aura before becoming transparent and fading away into nothingness.
Cadrith materialized a moment later with Cadrissa beside him. She had the look of one who’d been dealt a hard blow to the stomach—slightly hunched over, trying to catch her breath—but otherwise appeared fine. Once he fully materialized, Cadrith quickly sought Galba’s stone circle. They must have materialized almost right on top of it. But all he saw were trees . . . some of which were vaguely familiar. It wasn’t until he saw the outline of the dead roc, about a hundred yards behind him, that all the pieces fit into place.
He stabbed his staff at the earth with a murderous bellow.
“We’re back where we started . . .” Cadrissa was confused as well as concerned.
“What did you do?” He glared at Cadrissa.
“N-nothing.”
Grabbing her by the collar, he yanked her forward so they were face to face. “What did you do?” he said again, slowly and with more force.
“I just focused on the source of power, like you told me.”
“Then we should be at the stone circle, not back where we started from!”
“I did everything you said,” said Cadrissa defensively.
“So then tell me. How did we get here?”
“I don’t know.” Her face had grown even paler and her lips were as thin as knife blades.
He tossed her aside in disgust. He was so close. It was all in reach, and now this. It was Galba. It had to be. Cadrith had known she’d be a hindrance to his magic but thought to get around it with Cadrissa. It seemed Galba wouldn’t be so easily conquered. And he wasn’t going to be so easily defeated. He’d play her game if that was what it took. In the end he’d have his prize.
“Get up,” he said, uprooting his staff. “We have a good day’s march before us.”