Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) by Richard Innes Page B
Authors: Richard Innes
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why after spending that time with her. It was as
if the night was her natural element.
Celia gathered her petitioner notes, mostly names and
requests that would go on to Zazaril. Most would have to be ignored, but
sometimes the notes taken revealed something of interest to her mentor, and the
people were summoned and their requests granted. She placed these in the
cherrywood box at the end of the table. She nodded to the other wizard on
petitioner duty, an older man named Theus, with greying hair, a strong chin,
and thoughtful eyes. He had the habit of wearing deep red robes, and today was
no exception. He nodded back to her. She slipped out the back door and made
her way to the dining hall.
It was early, but she could smell dinner being prepared in
the large kitchen off the dining hall. It smelled of roast ham and warm
bread. She took a seat by one of the windows and settled in to wait. She
pulled out the tome she had found in the small archives vault the embassy kept
in the basement two nights before. It was titled Treatises on Modern Magic and contained over a dozen essays written well over a hundred years ago; one by
Widune the Wise, one by Sarisha’ala of the Emerald Court, one by Vicalas
Ardasha; all respected wizards of their time.
Turning to the passage she had marked the previous evening
in the essay titled The Comparisons Between Ancient Goralonian Blood Rituals
and the Not-So-Modern Magic of Magestones , she read the passage by Widun that
had caught her interest.
To compare Goralonian blood rituals to magic created with the
quafa'shilaar, is to compare a mule with a tree; neither will move, but for
different reasons; the mule, because it is stubborn and set in its ways, and if
you’re not careful it will kick you; the tree, because it follows the laws of
nature, and will bend when required, but only so far before it will break. The
mule, if cajoled or beaten may move, but if your concentration wanders you may
find yourself someplace you did not wish to be. From the tree, you may take
small branches, and burn them in your fire, but if you’re not careful, your
fire may consume the tree, leaving you without a source of warmth.
Celia thought this through, but came to the same conclusion
she had the night before; blood rituals were dangerous and possibly
unpredictable, which she already knew from her studies of ancient magic while
at Mahad’avor. This passage also indicated the quafa'shilaar had limits.
Celia was not that strong in her sorceress’s magical power, but she also had
not tested her limits beyond what was required at Mahad’avor to gain her
magestone. This passage seemed to indicate that one could burn out the
magestones. Was that true? What did it truly mean? How? Or was it the
wizards who burned out?
She continued to read until the server brought her dinner to
the table at least a full bell later. She was so engrossed in the tome she only
noticed the other two that sat at her table when she looked up to her meal.
She looked around the room, shaking the chill off from the last passage she had
read, by Sarisha’ala of the Emerald Court, a respected elven sorceress:
Based on the magical entropy the elvish race has experienced
in its inherent magical nature since the spell-storms of the great Elf-Orc war
from 526 to 534 PC (post cataclysm), it begs to question if the magic of the
entire world is in jeopardy of decline, or complete entropy – if so, is the
result a null-state or a Apocalypse event?
Based on her knowledge of history from her classes, Celia
did the math quickly and determined that the great war mentioned by the elven
sorceress was just over two-thousand years ago. If the elvish people were part
of the inherent magic of the world, and they had caused some sort of imbalance
in nature that had caused the entropy that was affecting their entire race, and
that had grown worse over the last two millennia, how hard was it to believe
that you
if the night was her natural element.
Celia gathered her petitioner notes, mostly names and
requests that would go on to Zazaril. Most would have to be ignored, but
sometimes the notes taken revealed something of interest to her mentor, and the
people were summoned and their requests granted. She placed these in the
cherrywood box at the end of the table. She nodded to the other wizard on
petitioner duty, an older man named Theus, with greying hair, a strong chin,
and thoughtful eyes. He had the habit of wearing deep red robes, and today was
no exception. He nodded back to her. She slipped out the back door and made
her way to the dining hall.
It was early, but she could smell dinner being prepared in
the large kitchen off the dining hall. It smelled of roast ham and warm
bread. She took a seat by one of the windows and settled in to wait. She
pulled out the tome she had found in the small archives vault the embassy kept
in the basement two nights before. It was titled Treatises on Modern Magic and contained over a dozen essays written well over a hundred years ago; one by
Widune the Wise, one by Sarisha’ala of the Emerald Court, one by Vicalas
Ardasha; all respected wizards of their time.
Turning to the passage she had marked the previous evening
in the essay titled The Comparisons Between Ancient Goralonian Blood Rituals
and the Not-So-Modern Magic of Magestones , she read the passage by Widun that
had caught her interest.
To compare Goralonian blood rituals to magic created with the
quafa'shilaar, is to compare a mule with a tree; neither will move, but for
different reasons; the mule, because it is stubborn and set in its ways, and if
you’re not careful it will kick you; the tree, because it follows the laws of
nature, and will bend when required, but only so far before it will break. The
mule, if cajoled or beaten may move, but if your concentration wanders you may
find yourself someplace you did not wish to be. From the tree, you may take
small branches, and burn them in your fire, but if you’re not careful, your
fire may consume the tree, leaving you without a source of warmth.
Celia thought this through, but came to the same conclusion
she had the night before; blood rituals were dangerous and possibly
unpredictable, which she already knew from her studies of ancient magic while
at Mahad’avor. This passage also indicated the quafa'shilaar had limits.
Celia was not that strong in her sorceress’s magical power, but she also had
not tested her limits beyond what was required at Mahad’avor to gain her
magestone. This passage seemed to indicate that one could burn out the
magestones. Was that true? What did it truly mean? How? Or was it the
wizards who burned out?
She continued to read until the server brought her dinner to
the table at least a full bell later. She was so engrossed in the tome she only
noticed the other two that sat at her table when she looked up to her meal.
She looked around the room, shaking the chill off from the last passage she had
read, by Sarisha’ala of the Emerald Court, a respected elven sorceress:
Based on the magical entropy the elvish race has experienced
in its inherent magical nature since the spell-storms of the great Elf-Orc war
from 526 to 534 PC (post cataclysm), it begs to question if the magic of the
entire world is in jeopardy of decline, or complete entropy – if so, is the
result a null-state or a Apocalypse event?
Based on her knowledge of history from her classes, Celia
did the math quickly and determined that the great war mentioned by the elven
sorceress was just over two-thousand years ago. If the elvish people were part
of the inherent magic of the world, and they had caused some sort of imbalance
in nature that had caused the entropy that was affecting their entire race, and
that had grown worse over the last two millennia, how hard was it to believe
that you
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