but passed to our brother a message, pleading that it be delivered to the Mother herself. Our brother tried to gain more, but whether from ignorance or fear, the boy said nothing more before he fled.”
“Read what it says,” the Mother said.
“Of course.” Al-Thinneas pulled from his robes a small round red leather case. Opening one end, he slid out a bone tube. Its seal had already been broken, and from it he withdrew a parchment, unrolling it before him.
“It is written in the lost tongue of the Evarun. Ras Dumas, indeed, took no small care in giving this message to us.”
“Read it,” the Mother urged.
“It’s but a single word,” Al-Thinneas said, and then paused. “Magedos.”
The silence returned as Al-Thinneas sat down.
The Mother waited as one by one the whispered questions began again between them all. She waited until the whispers fell away and only silence remained again.
“Ras Dumas sends us word of where his own House stands,” Maedelous quipped.
“No,” the Mother said. “It’s more. Magedos is more. It’s the place where the Giver fell. It’s where the Dragon can be defeated again.”
“Then the Giver has returned,” one of the knights in the gathered Synod cried out.
Chaelus stared into the dance of the flames. The chatter of the gathered knights erupted into flames of their own. The circle around him widened. They did not speak of him by name. Surely, they would not speak of him.
“No,” the Mother said, silencing their growing murmur. “The Giver has not returned.”
Chaelus looked up. Al-Aaron’s words of prophecy felt heavy upon him.
The Mother’s stare fixed upon him.
“But I believe we have been given the way to prepare for him,” she said.
Chaelus could read nothing in her eyes, nothing to tell him what she, in fact, believed. Yet it was certainly more than what she claimed before the gathered host.
“Or perhaps it’s an invitation to our slaughter,” Maedelous said. “It’s folly to believe in such madness. Surely this is a trap that Ras Dumas laid before his death.”
“Perhaps,” the Mother said. She pulled her shawl close again. “But it’s no secret that it was in the valley of Magedos that the Giver fell. His blood still remains there, and by the words of the prophecy, it is by the blood of the Giver that the Dragon will be defeated.”
Chaelus stepped into the circle. The heat of the fire and the stares of those around it pressed like a cutting knife. “I was told by Al-Aaron that when the Dragon is destroyed, the Pale will be restored, and with it my kingdom.”
No voices replied, only the returned silence and the crackling song of the fire.
“You speak words of prophecy well,” the Mother proffered.
“But are they true?”
“Yes.”
“They are words of blasphemy!” Maedelous exclaimed.
“Perhaps blasphemy is the only way,” the Mother countered, unmoving, measured.
“He’s not worthy!” Maedelous argued.
The Mother looked at Chaelus. “Nor does he believe we are.”
Chaelus girded himself as Maedelous unveiled his eyes to him. Cold fire burned within them.
“He’s a barbarian,” Maedelous said. “He’s not a man of Rua. He’s not Servian!”
“Nor was Talus before he was raised and the last Giver he became,” the Mother said. “Indeed, a prince turned thief he was and a soulless man, stoned to death before he was raised.”
“I don’t claim your prophecy,” Chaelus resumed, “but I will do what I must to restore my father’s House. I will do what I must to regain my throne. And if I must go to Magedos to do it, then I will slay the Dragon there. I only ask that you show me the way. Or do not. But if Rua is with me and you are not, than pray that you stand aside.”
The Mother’s soft voice drifted. “You will meet the Dragon in Magedos. But you cannot do it
“Read what it says,” the Mother said.
“Of course.” Al-Thinneas pulled from his robes a small round red leather case. Opening one end, he slid out a bone tube. Its seal had already been broken, and from it he withdrew a parchment, unrolling it before him.
“It is written in the lost tongue of the Evarun. Ras Dumas, indeed, took no small care in giving this message to us.”
“Read it,” the Mother urged.
“It’s but a single word,” Al-Thinneas said, and then paused. “Magedos.”
The silence returned as Al-Thinneas sat down.
The Mother waited as one by one the whispered questions began again between them all. She waited until the whispers fell away and only silence remained again.
“Ras Dumas sends us word of where his own House stands,” Maedelous quipped.
“No,” the Mother said. “It’s more. Magedos is more. It’s the place where the Giver fell. It’s where the Dragon can be defeated again.”
“Then the Giver has returned,” one of the knights in the gathered Synod cried out.
Chaelus stared into the dance of the flames. The chatter of the gathered knights erupted into flames of their own. The circle around him widened. They did not speak of him by name. Surely, they would not speak of him.
“No,” the Mother said, silencing their growing murmur. “The Giver has not returned.”
Chaelus looked up. Al-Aaron’s words of prophecy felt heavy upon him.
The Mother’s stare fixed upon him.
“But I believe we have been given the way to prepare for him,” she said.
Chaelus could read nothing in her eyes, nothing to tell him what she, in fact, believed. Yet it was certainly more than what she claimed before the gathered host.
“Or perhaps it’s an invitation to our slaughter,” Maedelous said. “It’s folly to believe in such madness. Surely this is a trap that Ras Dumas laid before his death.”
“Perhaps,” the Mother said. She pulled her shawl close again. “But it’s no secret that it was in the valley of Magedos that the Giver fell. His blood still remains there, and by the words of the prophecy, it is by the blood of the Giver that the Dragon will be defeated.”
Chaelus stepped into the circle. The heat of the fire and the stares of those around it pressed like a cutting knife. “I was told by Al-Aaron that when the Dragon is destroyed, the Pale will be restored, and with it my kingdom.”
No voices replied, only the returned silence and the crackling song of the fire.
“You speak words of prophecy well,” the Mother proffered.
“But are they true?”
“Yes.”
“They are words of blasphemy!” Maedelous exclaimed.
“Perhaps blasphemy is the only way,” the Mother countered, unmoving, measured.
“He’s not worthy!” Maedelous argued.
The Mother looked at Chaelus. “Nor does he believe we are.”
Chaelus girded himself as Maedelous unveiled his eyes to him. Cold fire burned within them.
“He’s a barbarian,” Maedelous said. “He’s not a man of Rua. He’s not Servian!”
“Nor was Talus before he was raised and the last Giver he became,” the Mother said. “Indeed, a prince turned thief he was and a soulless man, stoned to death before he was raised.”
“I don’t claim your prophecy,” Chaelus resumed, “but I will do what I must to restore my father’s House. I will do what I must to regain my throne. And if I must go to Magedos to do it, then I will slay the Dragon there. I only ask that you show me the way. Or do not. But if Rua is with me and you are not, than pray that you stand aside.”
The Mother’s soft voice drifted. “You will meet the Dragon in Magedos. But you cannot do it
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