He’d had to put out wider calls for mages. There had to be Julatsans scattered across the continents, those like himself who rarely visited the College but who owed their lives to it nonetheless. He’d even sent word into the Southern Continent of Calaius, to the elven homelands where so many Julatsan elves had returned over the years, bleeding Balaia of a crucial resource. The Gods knew what the state of their magic would be. Ilkar only hoped their Julatsan Lore training hadn’t lapsed with the passing of time. It was becoming increasingly clear that he needed them badly.
‘Ilkar!’ called a voice from below. He leaned forward. Pheone, her brown hair tied up in a bun and her long young face smeared with dust and sweat, looked up at the parapet, her green dress flapping gently at her ankles. She was a fine mage but inexperienced, and lucky to be alive after surviving the rout of the Dordovan relief column during the siege of Julatsa at the height of the war.
‘How’s it going?’ he asked.
‘The cladding on the long room is complete. A few of us thought we’d run a test. Release a little pent-up emotion, if you know what I mean. Care to join us?’
Ilkar chuckled. He hadn’t cast an offensive spell in four years. He flexed his fingers and hauled himself to his feet.
‘I don’t mind if I do,’ he said. He brushed stone chips from his tan breeches and the dark leather jerkin that covered his fawn shirt and headed for the stairway.
A feeling of energy caused him to look up at the sky. A bolt of lightning, pale as straw and angry, arced in the unbroken blue heavens, its report echoing dully in his ears. Another flash, and then a third, broke the peace of the day. He frowned at the repetition of the startling and worrying sight.
Ilkar descended the stairs, resolving to mention the subject over supper. Someone, he expected, could provide an explanation.
The Unknown Warrior sat in a chair beside the sleeping form of Jonas. The boy had spent a quieter night than his father, who had come home not long before dawn. And though he had slipped into bed next to Diera to try to grab what little sleep he could, his mind had churned over Denser’s words, and kept him from his dreams. Shortly after Diera had risen in response to Jonas’ cries, to feed and comfort him until he slept again, The Unknown had ceased his endless turning and come to sit in the calm of Jonas’ room to give his wife the chance of uninterrupted rest.
And sat he had, while the sun rose above the horizon to cast cool light over Korina, listening to the gentle breathing of his six-week-old son, still bearing the after-effects of the slight cold that had given way to his touch of colic. He was a strong boy and The Unknown was glad of his brushes with illness; they would benefit him in later years much as they had his father.
Watching Jonas squirming as he fought to change position, his little hands pushing at the soft white blanket that covered him to the top of his chest, he felt both a stab of fear and a kinship with Denser that no man without a child could fully understand. He didn’t even have to ask himself how he would feel if it had been his child that had disappeared, with or without its mother. And he didn’t have to ask himself what he would expect from his friends should that happen.
But going with the Xeteskian mage, as he had to, carried the risk that he wouldn’t see his wife and his own son again. And he would be breaking his promise to Diera - that The Raven would never ride with him at its head.
The Unknown sighed and read again the letter Denser had given him, looking forlornly for clues as to what had him so worried.
My Dear Husband,
I know this letter finds you unopened because the eyes of the Dordovan Council are blind to all that is most apparent. I have been feeling for some time that the masters here are failing Lyanna and her health is at risk from the mana she attracts but cannot properly control.
She misses you terribly at times but seems to understand that you cannot be here, without fully grasping why. One day, I hope we can tell her together but perhaps that is asking too much.
I expect you’re wondering by now where we have gone and why I did not contact you by Communion with my increasing worries, but it is difficult when you are removed from the day-to-day life of our beautiful child. Besides, this is something that we must do alone, without the council of those who might deflect us from our path. Lyanna knows it. I know it too.
Right now, I can imagine your anger. I knew the Dordovan Council would hide my leaving from you. My only regret is that I am not there to see you humbling Vuldaroq. Please understand that only I can accompany her - to involve you would have exposed us all to danger.
I want you to know that we are protected and going to a place where Lyanna can learn in safety the craft for which she was born, and still enjoy being the delightful little girl she is becoming, more so every day. There are those who understand her talent and wish to nurture it. I have felt them - they are benevolent minds and Lyanna is very happy at the prospect of meeting them. I think that we can help them too; they do sound old and frail despite their power.
I can barely contain my excitement now. I think we have found those we so fervently hoped were still alive. Or rather, they found us. It will be a long journey and not without its risks but please don’t worry about us.
I will send word as soon as I can and when Lyanna is settled, perhaps we can meet again. For now, I must say goodbye. We have both shed tears at the thought of how long we might be apart from you but it will be for the best for us all.
Lyanna will be the first true mage, I know it now. And that means we can begin to build a better future for us all.
Wish me luck and love. One magic, one mage.
Yours forever, Erienne.
Something in that text had bothered Denser more than mere worry at the journey Erienne had determined to make with their daughter. And it had to do with the Dordovans’ apparently urgent desire to find them and return them to the College. Denser was anxious to meet up with Ilkar, with all of The Raven but Ilkar most of all, and The Unknown had had to order him to rest.
And now the new day was full and Korina swarmed with life. There was much to be done and while The Unknown couldn’t help the thrill that coursed through him, he hadn’t the faintest idea how they would find one mage and her young child in this huge world. All they had was a letter, a starting point and a vague hinting of ancient magic he had neither heard of before nor understood. But if Denser thought it was important, The Unknown wouldn’t question it. Gods, how they could do with Thraun; but Thraun was lost to them all.
He stood over the crib and smoothed a wisp of blond hair from Jonas’ face before leaning in to kiss his pale forehead.
‘I won’t be away long, little one. Look after your mother for me.’ He straightened and faced the door. Diera stood there, wearing a loose-tied bodice and a blue working skirt. Her fair hair tumbled across her face but it didn’t hide her expression. The Unknown walked to her, making to speak but she raised a finger and placed it on his lips.
‘Not yet, Sol. Tell me later. But if you must go, you can give me your next hour.’ Her mouth turned up and she kissed his lips, her tongue darting into his mouth to twine with his. After a while he drew back, his hands on her upper arms.
‘Jonas will wake. And besides, I know a more comfortable spot.’ He took her hand and led her to their bedroom.
The wind savaged the forest, tore roots from the ground and brought branches crashing to earth with terrible force. The trunks of young trees blew about the Thornewood like twigs, smashing everything in their path until they too shattered, sending lethal splinters to whirl in the maelstrom.