Chapter 14
Mark and Talia arrived on the patio at their cottage and were given a rousing cheer by most of those who were gathered about, which included their four comrades-at-arms, Stripe, Scout, and the Hilian elves. Kragorram, Povon, Silaran and Equemev were lounging on the smooth, sun-warmed stone of the gentle slope to the left of the patio, surrounded by elves who had been eagerly engaging them in conversation. Stripe was stretched out in the center of the patio, luxuriating in the attentions of another circle of elves, who admiringly gave him rubs and scratchings. Scout was perched on the peak of the cottage’s roof, calmly observing all, while two of the Atoning sat on the roof beside him, one of them gently scratching him under his beak with a fingertip.
“Thank you.” Talia called to them, and she and Mark gave them a smile and a wave.
Hilsith and the Healers who had worked with her on the injured from Winghoof were circulating about, examining the elves, offering a few words, and casting the occasional minor cure, and now the elven Healer hurried up to the patio and began casting diagnostics on the two of them, then stopped.
“Mark, do you have the tine band?” she asked.
“No, but I know the frequencies, and I can use the spell Yazadril used to make it.” he sighed as he and Talia took a seat at their breakfast table. He picked up the table and set it aside, pulled Talia’s chair over so she was sitting cuddled against his side, and cast a spell that vibrated his skull as the tine band did, but slightly less so. “There. How’s that?”
“Excellent.” Hilsith nodded absent-mindedly as she resumed casting diagnostics. When she finished, she nodded, and offered them her hands. She gave theirs a warm squeeze as she smiled encouragingly at each of them in turn.
“You are as healthy as it is possible to be, both physically and emotionally, for young adults of good heart who have just returned from their first taste of war. You can expect to experience strange emotions over the next few days as your mind comes to terms with it; sadness, anger, fear, guilt, pride, relief, and the joy of being alive. Try to recognize that these emotions are a normal part of the adaptation process, and try not to let them overly affect your behavior or your decisions. Simply let them run their course, and know that they are temporary. Know also that you have been spared the most common and devastating blow suffered by warriors, since not one of your comrades-in-arms were killed. At this moment your emotional resources are quite depleted, though they will recover quickly. Still, it would be best if you could manage to stay out of trouble for a few days.”
“Thank you, Hilsith.” Mark nodded as he dismissed his spell. “I think I already knew all that, but it’s nice to have it confirmed by a professional. How are the others?”
“Fifty-nine elves suffered minor magical backlash when the Shield around the decoys was disrupted. They’ve all been treated, and they’re fine now. My colleagues and I have perfected the treatments we used after the Winghoof attack, and were able to use them much more quickly and effectively this time.
“Also, Silaran and a few of the elves suffered a bit of after-battle emotional shock, mostly among the Volunteers, there was some vomiting and what have you. One’s first exposure to violent death can be a trying thing, and one never knows how a given person will react. Some of history’s most valiant warriors learned the hard way to never eat before battle, in order to prevent losing their meal afterward. But our injured are all young and resilient, and with the minor treatments they’ve received, they should not be unduly troubled by their experience.”
“Good. Thank you.” Mark nodded, and stood to address those gathered there, who had been silently following the conversation.
“You all risked death for us today. Some of you were injured on our behalf, both here and in Kletiuk. There… There can be no greater act of friendship or dedication than that. I’ve never felt so… honored. I can’t think of anything to say that does justice to the emotions I’m feeling for you all right now. Thank you. I thank you with all my heart. And if there is ever anything I can do for any of you, you only have to ask.”
He faltered, and looked down to Talia who stood beside him, one arm wrapped around his upper thigh, her other hand on her hilt.
“We have achieved three great victories today.” she stated, smoothly carrying on as he left off. “We prevented an assassination that would have killed many Kleti within the courtyard of their Hall of Government, we defeated eighty-eight wizards and warriors of Venak and the conspiracy, and most importantly, we captured twenty-four of them and sent them to The Hall of The Just Alliance, where they were immediately placed in stasis by The Grand Council of Xervia. That is, all except for the six whom Povon first captured, whom she placed in stasis before they were sent. We took this precaution in case any of them have trapped themselves with memory-blocking or self-destructing spells to prevent their being interrogated.
“One by one, they will be released from stasis for the tiniest fraction of a second, just long enough for them to be examined for traps. Then, when those traps are recognized and prepared for, they will be released from stasis again, and any troublesome spells will be immediately removed. They will then be Compelled to swear to truth and justice upon the Truthstone of Falgaroth, and then thoroughly interrogated. We will thus gain very crucial intelligence as to conditions and happenings in Venak, and within the insidious conspiracy.
“Your efforts today were magnificent, and you have justly earned the gratitude of everyone in The Just Alliance. Before today, we were simply citizens of Hilia. Today, we are also a battle-tested military force, and a formidable one at that.
“Now, we’ve about fifty minutes to visit with you before we have to start getting ready for Mark’s birthday celebrations. Myself, I could do with a light snack and a tall glass of ice-cold bumbleberry wine, and I imagine many of you feel similarly, so we’ll arrange for refreshments to be served.
“And of course, you were all suddenly interrupted by our call to battle, so if any of you have other activities that you wish to return to, feel free to do so. If we don’t get a chance to speak to any of you here, we’ll try to do so later at the party. Again, thank you all. You have our most heartfelt appreciation.”
She and Mark made their deepest and most ornate bow, and held it for a long moment.
When they straightened, almost all of the Atoning, which was most of the elves present, disappeared in a rapid series of flashes. A minute later two of them returned with a huge table loaded with food and drink, then they were gone again. Of that group, only Sheramiv and Relgemit remained.
There was a moment of expectant silence, then Balen spoke with careful courtesy. “My Prince, we can intuit that you are troubled, as some of us are, by today’s events. Please, let us ease your spirit, in the elven way.”
“The elven way? Beyond the use of Tranquilities, you mean?” he asked.
“If you give us your leave, we will sing, and we will dance, while we rub the stress from your tense muscles, and tantalize you with delectables.” Balen stated, her smile encouraging. “We’ll all take a turn in the giving and receiving of comfort and relaxing pleasures. We will celebrate life. We will forgive our enemies for attacking us, and we will forgive ourselves for taking lives in the cause of justice. We will… zhenshimlaia… In this language you would say… uh…”
“We will purify our souls and our emotions of the taint of darkness forced upon us by the cruelty of others.” Sheramiv supplied. “In ages past our people had very elaborate traditional ceremonies and songs for zhenshimlaia, that were performed according to exact procedures, but that was before the gods withdrew. We still sing the songs, but now the activity is far more free-form and spontaneous.”
“That… sounds wonderful!” Mark’s grin slowly spread upon his face. “What should I do for this zhemsum… What is it again?”
“Zhen shim LAH yuh.” Balen pronounced with exaggerated clarity, and smiled with restrained delight. “And for now, you and Talia
will simply relax and enjoy, as will those of us who were most stressed by the experience. When you feel completely refreshed and you have seen what we do, you can offer your attentions to those who have been granting you theirs, or join in the singing and dancing.”
“Zhenshimlaia. Relax. Got it.” Mark grinned, as a dozen of the Devoted lifted Talia with gentle Levitations. They tried to Levitate him as well, but it didn’t work since he’d deactivated the vibration spell, so he simply Levitated himself. The elves giggled and guided their floating forms to the largest of the oval lawns by hand.
“I’m surprised that you young High People are all that familiar with the tradition, since your nation has been at peace since long before you were born.” Hilsith commented as they moved downslope.
“We learn it in school.” Talia told her. “And though none of us has truly needed zhenshimlaia before today, we practice it because it’s fun.”
Soon everyone was in place, Mark and Talia and a few of the elves lounging comfortably in mid-air three feet above the center of the largest lawn, Balen and some of the Devoted interspersed among them, while the rest of the elves formed concentric rings around them. Sheramiv, Relgemit, and Hilsith took their places in the circles, while the Healers of other races gathered beside Kragorram, Povon, Equemev and Silaran.
Balen addressed those observers as stillness settled upon the gathering. “You are welcome to observe or to participate, as the moment moves you.”
“Thank you.” Povon said with a gracious nod, speaking for the group.
“We begin.” Balen stated as she smiled, closed her eyes, and turned to the center. With a wave of her hand to set the time, she and all the elves began to sing, and those who stood in the circles began to dance with flowing grace. The melody was complex, yet sweet and soothing, and soon multiple harmonies were added; softly swelling, then fading back into the volume of the melody in overlapping waves of sound. Each ring of dancers used slightly different movements that complemented each other with breathtaking beauty.
Then Mark was distracted from that as dozens of tiny hands began expertly rubbing the tension from his muscles, and tantalizing his sense of touch with subtler caresses. He groaned in pleasure and relief and closed his eyes, and a wave of complete relaxation came over him. For a quarter of an hour he simple floated in complete lethargy, immersed in the singing, enjoying the occasional sips of beverages and tidbits of delicacies the elves held gently to his lips, each a surprising and delicious sensation.
Then he realized that Talia was floating right above him and caressing his face, and he opened his eyes to see her smiling down at him, her eyes only a foot above his.
“Would you care to dance with me, my love?” she giggled.
“I would.” he grinned.
He swung his feet down and stood as she alighted beside him. She led him to the first ring of dancers, who made room for them in the ring. He realized that their movements were the simplest, with only the steps and gestures that were the basis of the dance, and that each ring around that added more variations on the theme. Tentatively at first, then more confidently as Talia guided him over their Link, they became part of the great dance. The most talented and enthusiastic dancers moved through the air above it all, improvising as soloists, duos, and small groups. Servers with trays of food and drink danced smoothly through it all, and those who partook of their offerings did so without interrupting the flow.
Mark began humming along with the melody as he joyously danced, his deep bass adding a fullness to the chorale.
On the slope beside the lawn, Silaran danced with Equemev in the graceful, athletic, prancing style of The People of Morning, their hooves adding a perfectly timed and delicate percussion to the song as they tapped upon the stone.
When Mark and Talia were moving to the second ring and adding their embellished movements, Kragorram and Povon leaped into the air, cleared the aerial elven dancers with two synchronized wing beats each, and began their own dance above it all. Their long and sinuous bodies intertwined in such a complex and sensuous manner that only their contrasting colors prevented it from being confusing to the eye.
Mark noticed that the gathering had grown. Yazadril and Nemia were dancing with Hilsith in the second ring, close to Dalia, Bezedil and Alilia. All the Healers had joined the dance except the old giant and the copper dragon, who stood by observing with a concentration worthy of a miraculous new kind of Healing, even as their toes tapped with the tempo of the music that surrounded them. Perhaps two hundred of the Atoning had overcome their shyness at being in Mark’s presence enough to return and form a new set of circles on another lawn, since there was no room for more on the main one.
Mark cast a quick Speaking. “Sheramiv, I think this is something all the Atoning should share, if they can possibly be spared from their duties. Call them back. Make it an order if necessary.”
“I agree, and I will!” she laughed.
Soon every lawn had circles of singing, dancing elves, and at the center of each were those who were administering comfort, and those receiving it.
When Mark and Talia began to pleasantly tire from their exertions, she led them one by one back through the inner circles and their easier movements. When they reached the center again, they joined those who were giving comfort to others. Mark expected that there would be a rush of the Devoted moving to the center to be massaged by him, but the patience and courtesy of the elves was greater than that, and there was little visible change in the complex flow of people through the gathering.
By then he was familiar enough with the music to improvise bass harmonies in counterpoint to the melody, and as he found himself administering to a pretty young elfess, he sang to her joyously and wordlessly, simply using various vowels to play with the notes. She gloried in his attentions as he massaged her shoulders and back with his fingertips, adapting a gentler version of the Ranger’s rubdown techniques he’d used after weapons practices. It never occurred to him to translate the Elvish lyrics he was hearing, since the emotion of the music was so pure and obvious in the sound itself.
Half a minute later she floated out of his reach and into Talia’s, and she gave him a smile of pure and profound gratitude as another took her place.
So it continued, until Talia’s thoughts murmured in Mark’s mind. “We have to go soon, my handsome prince.”
“Do we have time for me to zhenshimlaia you first?” was his chuckled thought in reply.
“Yes, and for me to return the favor.” she giggled as she floated up, turned horizontal to lay relaxed with her back beneath his strong hands, and stretched luxuriously at his comforting touch.
When she bade him to switch places, she augmented her physical strength with subtle spells of Force, so she could give him the strong, deep-muscle rubdown he hadn’t felt in months. She chuckled at his deep groans of heartfelt appreciation.
“Now we really have to go.” she smiled as she finished. “We’re a few minutes behind schedule, so we should hurry a bit to catch up.”
She turned and cast a Speaking to everyone there. “Thank you all, so very much. Please, continue, and we’ll be back in about an hour.”
She then narrowed her Speaking to a select few. “Father, is everything ready?”
“Yes.” Yazadril replied. “Your destination has been protected by a small-scale version of the entire system of Wards around Hilia. At the moment of your Translocation, thousands of decoy versions of you will be Translocated to similarly Warded Locations all over The Just Alliance. You will be safe, and maybe we’ll catch a few more conspirators.”
“Thank you.
“Mark, we’ll change into something semi-formal, and then I have a surprise for you.” Talia then brought them both to their bedroom inside the cottage.
“How can you have arranged such an elaborate surprise, when I’m practically aware of your every thought?” he laughed as he rummaged through a chest of clothing. “I’m certainly aware
of every spell and Speaking you cast.”
“Actually, unless you make a specific effort to do so, you’re not aware of my every thought when we’re not actively Linked.” she laughed as she instantly changed clothes with a spell. “And if we don’t wish it, you’re not privy to the Link I share with Ria, or to communications she has with others, like my father. After the way we planned for the attack today, you might have realized that.”
“I see.” he chuckled as he drew on a fresh kilt of dark brown weave.
Soon they were ready, he in a white silk shirt with pearl buttons, a gold hairclip, and a jacket that matched the kilt, she in a simple blue silk belted summer dress that fell to her calves, with some of her hair artfully arranged in ringlets atop her head and held with gold pins.
“We’re going to be Translocated by Alliance military personnel.” she informed him. “Simply be passive and let it happen, so that as little of our magical and psionic auras are associated with the spell as possible.”
“Right.” he nodded.
“We’re ready to go, Father.” Talia informed Yazadril, and a moment later they were elsewhere.
They appeared on the front lawn of a property that was just large enough to be considered a walled estate, in front of a stately two story home that was just big enough to be called a mansion. They could sense the abundant power of the Wards that made the air seem to subtly sizzle around them. It was night at their destination when they arrived, and the scene was lit by dozens of gas torches brightly wavering in the summer breeze at the tops of eight foot tall steel posts. The lights were placed every twelve feet along the top of the estate walls, and on either side of the paved drive, which curved from the main gates to the front of the house, and continued around the side to the yards in the rear. The sounds of a city in the midst of a busy evening were heard drifting faintly over the ten-foot walls. The home was of red sandstone blocks, and featured well-proportioned simple lines lacking any ornate detail, and large multiply-paned rectangular windows. The double front doors were only two steps higher than ground level, sheltered beneath an arched portico.
“A pleasing style for a home, I think.” Talia commented. “It makes no pretensions of grace, instead offering an aesthetic simplicity and a welcoming solidity.”
“I’ll say it offers solidity!” Mark chuckled. “The place is a small fortress!”
“Oh? How so?”
“Look at the windows. You can tell from the depth of the lintels that the walls are at least three feet thick, and notice that the panes aren’t just held in place by lead, they’re set into a gridwork of steel bars. The shutters are six inches of solid oak, and they can be closed and secured from inside by those hinged rods at the bottom.”
“Ah.” Talia nodded.
“So, are we going in?” Mark chuckled.
“No, actually.” Talia smiled, suddenly shy. “We’re attending a gathering behind the house. We arrived here in the front so that none would be in danger if the conspiracy managed to attack us upon arrival again, though we considered that next to impossible.”
“I thought the party was at Hilia.”
“It is, and we’re going back there in an hour. This is something extra. Something special.”
“Well then, shall we go back there and attend it?” he laughed, sweeping her up in his arms and giving her a quick kiss as he began following the paving stones of the drive around the house.
“Mark, wait a moment.” she asked, her mood still happy yet pensive. “I wanted this to be a surprise, but now I worry that it could be such a surprise that it would be a shock. And I think you may need a moment to prepare yourself. So I’m going to tell you who we’re here to meet.”
“All right, I’m intrigued now.” he smiled with raised eyebrows. “Go on.”
“We are within the city of Belinhome, capitol of Finitra, and this is the manor of retired Finitran army colonel Markhan Reginus Longstrider the Third, your paternal grandfather. Awaiting us behind the manor are all of your surviving close relatives. On your father’s side, your grandfather and grandmother, their three surviving sons and two daughters who are your uncles and aunts, their spouses who are your aunts and uncles by marriage, and a total of eleven cousins. On your mother’s side, you have an aunt; your mother’s sister, and her husband who is your uncle by marriage.”
Mark’s jaw dropped.
“Now I’m glad I told you before we went back there. You appear to be shaken.” She considered sharing his thoughts, but at this moment it felt like that would be intrusive.
He looked over to where the drive led around the side of the house, then back to Talia. He gave her a gentle kiss, and set off along the drive.
After two paces he broke into a jog, and within six more was sprinting with a speed that Talia found both surprising and exhilarating.
As he rounded the front corner of the house, Talia clutched tight in his arms, a young boy’s voice was heard calling with excitement. “Here they come! Running!”
Mark slowed to a walk as they came around the rear corner and emerged from the relative darkness at the side of the house.
Dozens of paper lanterns were strung over a large table covered with white linen and enough dishes of food to constitute a feast. The gathering of twenty-five humans was further illuminated by a row of the tall gas torches along the back of the house, and a bonfire in a stone pit. Many had obviously been taking their ease in simple whitewashed wood plank chairs, but they were all on their feet to offer their greeting now.
There was a brief moment of silence, then a cheer was raised by a young couple and joined by the rest of the young adults. The older adults wore the same expression Mark did as he strode to join them; a tearful grin, reflecting both the joy of meeting and shared grief for those who were so painfully absent.
Talia was struck by the fact that every male present except one looked much alike. She guessed that the exception, a portly and ruddy blond fellow in his mid-forties, would be the only male from Mark’s mother’s side of his family, his maternal aunt’s husband. The rest looked a lot like Mark, though not nearly so closely as they resembled each other, since all of them had the same shade of brown hair, they had the same muscular build, and the adults among them were uniformly within an inch of seven feet six inches, about nine inches shorter than Mark.
Then she and Mark were being soundly hugged by his grandparents; the eldest of the similar males who had shocks of white coming in at the temples of his chestnut-brown hair, and a six foot, six inch tall woman with thick gray hair who appeared to be in her mid-sixties.
It was an emotional scene, and Talia was caught up in it as those around her laughed or cried or cheered. After a moment though, she began to feel a bit claustrophobic from being completely and tightly enclosed up to her neck within the embrace of the three huge humans. The feeling grew quickly, prompting her to respond with a quick wiggle and a shove and a gentle touch of Force, and she popped up from between them like a squeezed watermelon seed.
She landed with an agile twist on an invisible surface four feet above the ground, as Mark and his grandparents stepped back in surprise, and children giggled.
“Ah, sorry about that, but I think I’d better give you my own hugs.” she said as she quickly stepped over to hug Mark’s grandmother around her neck. “Sharing Mark’s was a bit overwhelming.”
“You’ll have to excuse us, lass.” the rangy matron chuckled as she returned the tiny elfess’s hug with careful gentleness. She spoke Common with a strong Finitran accent. “We must’ve half smothered you.”
“Quite understandable.” Talia happily returned, a bit embarrassed by her action and relieved that it hadn’t been taken badly. Then she had to giggle as Mark and his grandfather shared the fierce, backslapping embrace of strong men caught up in strong emotions.
“It’s so damn good to have you here, my lad.” the elder Mark emphatically stated as the two stepped back and gripped each other’s shoulders
with both hands.
“I’m sorry we haven’t been by sooner, Grandpa.”
“Bah, we know you’ve been busy, and you’ve only been out of the wilderness for five days.”
As Mark embraced his grandmother, Talia stepped to his grandfather. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Colonel Longstrider.” she said as she hugged him around his neck.
“And I’d be pleased if you’d call me Grandpa, my lass. Welcome to the family.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you all know who we are.” Mark grinned as he and his grandmother finished their embrace and he turned to address the gathering. “And I know who all my aunts and uncles are, and most of my cousins, from the occasional letters we’ve exchanged. But Talia doesn’t know you yet, and I could stand to have my memory refreshed. So, let me proudly introduce my most loved and loving wife Talia, Princess of The High People, reigning Princess of Hilia, and a formidable wizard in the militaries of our country and The Just Alliance.”
“Princess Talia.” the patriarch grinned with a crisp bow. “You’ve met my lovely wife Sana. This is my second eldest son Wittan, named for the late king, his wife Koran, their son Dren, and their daughter Petha.”
“It’s really spooky how much you look like my pa, Uncle.” Mark quietly observed as he and Talia exchanged quick embraces with those four.
“Just two years between us.” Wittan nodded soberly, then grinned. “Mind you, I had the sense to stay out of the army, and the luck to find a happy marriage six years before Markhan. Karna and I married when we were just eighteen. My boy Dren here’s twenty-two, and he’s been chosen by his namesake King Dren to represent our nation at an important tournament soon. I guess the sense skipped a generation, as he and Petha have both been in the army since they were old enough to sign for their own careers. Damn, I wish Markhan were here to tease me about it now. He would you know.”
“I’m sure he would.” Mark nodded with a wistful smile. “He was proud of his service and the skills he learned from it.”
So it went; as each of Mark’s Father’s siblings were introduced with their wives and children, comments were exchanged that served to remind Mark of what he knew of them from his parents’ stories and correspondence, and to give Talia a little insight into their personalities.
Last to be introduced were Mark’s Aunt Tilfi; his mother’s sister, and her husband Harrik; the portly blond gentleman. Tilfi seemed hesitant, but when Mark enfolded her in his embrace, she warmly returned it. Then she took his hand in both of hers. “I’m glad to meet you, Mark. I wonder how much Helem told you of me?”
“That you were two years older than she, and that she loved you dearly, though you didn’t tend to spend much time together due to having very different interests.” Mark told her. “She said that your mother had died of pneumonia when you were girls, and that your father was a trapper, and that he and the women of the valley had co-operated in raising you both until you were seventeen and she was fifteen, when you defied your father to run off with the trader’s son.”
“That’s the truth of it.” she nodded. “Tell me, do you know how much longer it was after that when my father died? And how he perished?”
“Mom said he was buried by a winter avalanche the season before she went down to the lowlands to meet my father. She was seventeen then, so it must have happened about two years after you left.”
“Ah. Helem and I exchanged a few brief letters over the years, but she never wrote about that.” Tilfi softly revealed. “Harrik and I were married the day we made it to Belinhome from Shinosa, and set out the day after that for the wine lands to the south for a load of fine bottled vintage that had to be back here within a month. We eventually settled into a regular route north to the border with The Warm People and back, twice a year.”
“And you became a wizard?” he asked. “I can see the glow of your power.”
She smiled, but shook her head. “A Healer. It took me sixteen years to get my guild certification, studying here for just three months every winter, but it’s a great profession for a traveling trader’s wife. Helem and I corresponded just enough to know that we were both very happy and contented with our lives, and that was enough. I always thought that someday I’d go back and visit her.”
“You resemble my mam more than she led me to think you would, Aunt Tilfi.” he quietly commented, noting her deep brown eyes so much like his mother’s, and the same thick black hair he’d inherited from her.
“Yes, well, we used to think we didn’t mix much because we were so dissimilar. Now I think it was because we were so alike.”
“Ah. Today is… Today is the first day I think I’ve started to come to terms with my family being gone.” Mark hesitantly revealed. “But sometime later, when I’m… more at peace with it, I’d like to give you a Reading of my memories of her.” he looked around the gathering. “And to give all of you my memories of my father’s life in Shinosa. They were all very happy times, except for the very last.”
“We could receive no finer gift.” his grandmother smiled.
Harrik grinned and offered a meaty hand. “I only met your mother once, so my status as your uncle might not count for much, but I’ve followed your adventures and exploits with interest these last few days, and I want to say I’m damn proud of you, both of you!”
“Thanks, Uncle Harrik.” Mark smiled as he shook hands with the man.
Talia unabashedly hugged both Tilfi and Harrik in turn, then proudly returned to Mark’s side as there was a pause in the conversation.
“We have your things from Shinosa here.” Sana gently informed Mark. “In the rooms above the carriage works there.” She indicated a darkened outbuilding further back in the yards.
“Oh. Thanks Grandma. Is it all, uh, intact?”
“It is. Some of it had weathered a bit, but we fixed all that. While you were missing, we finished some things. There were some dresses that your mother had obviously been working on with your sister Shelvy. The girls here and I, we all worked together on finishing them.”
“There was a pair of skis and poles that we figured Markhan had been working on with your brother Steb.” Wittan gruffly added. “And a harp we took as being matched to your fingers. Pa and me and the boys here finished ‘em up. Took pride in it too. Damn fine craftsmanship. Had no idea you were still trekking through the mountains then. Helped us remember your pa though. You could always tell his work.”
“Thank you, all of you. That was very thoughtful of you.” Mark nodded. “But I think I’ll look at those things another day.” There was another brief pause.
“This is a bit strange for me.” he chuckled. “It’s like I had three separate lives; Shinosa Valley, my trek south, and the last few incredible days since I met Yazadril. The trek was a separation between what came before and what came after, and there was nothing in common between the before and after. But now, seeing all of you here with Talia, that brings it all together, and suddenly I only have one life again. It’s good, but it’ll take a bit of getting used to.
“You know what the most disconcerting thing is? The fact that it’s night here, and a few minutes ago we left a bright late morning in Hilia. I’ve traveled around the world so much in the last few days that I’ve almost completely lost my sense of what time it is, but it sure doesn’t feel like it should be dark yet.
“I imagine you were all planning on joining us at my birthday celebrations there, and when we left there was a wonderful elven celebration of the joy of life in song and dance going on, and it probably still is. Would it be all right if we all went there now? We could bring this lovely and delicious smelling feast you’ve prepared.”
“That would be fine, except Mark here…” Sana began, but her husband interrupted her and placed a re-assuring hand on hers.
“No, you’re right, my dear wife. That would be fine.” He turned to his grandson. “The thing is, I’ve had a few battle experiences that’ve left m
e less than fully trusting in the process of Translocation, and magic in general. A bungled Translocation can be the kind of disaster that scars your soul to see. And it’s a long way to Hilia, and you’re both pretty young yet. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Absolutely.” Talia assured him. “Mark and I will cast the spell together, and we’ll both be double-checking each other’s work, while Ria triple-checks us both.”
“Good.” the patriarch nodded. “Most any other time, I still wouldn’t let myself be zapped halfway around the world, or even halfway across the yard. But this is a special occasion. A very special occasion. So I guess I’ll suck up the mustard one more time. Twice, if I want to get back here again before the year is out.”
“I’ll be attending in uniform with King Dren a bit later.” Dren said with a smile and a crisp salute, then stepped back a bit.
“We’ll see you then, cousin.” Mark grinned as he returned the salute.
“Could we have everyone move closer to the table, while we check weights and volumes?” Talia asked as she and Mark let their sense of magic encompass the immediate area, and quickly examined the people and objects they planned to transport. “And there are some loose items under the table?”
“Best bring those.” one of Mark’s young cousins advised with a huge wink.
“Thank you, ah, Migby, right? You’re twelve, Sanan and Dalev’s daughter?”
“That’s right!” the girl nodded happily, pleased that the elven princess had remembered.
“All right then.” Talia smiled and nodded as she and Mark closed their eyes in concentration, and cast their awareness around the world to their patio on Hilia.
“How many of us can you take each trip?” Karna asked.
“GODS!” Mark the elder barked in surprise at a flash of cold almost too brief to be perceived, immediately replaced by Hilia’s bright tropical sunshine.
“Why, all of you, and the table too.” Talia laughed, raising her voice a bit to be heard over the hundreds of elves who were still enjoying zhenshimlaia on three of the lawns, or lounging and chatting on others.
“Oooh, look, there’s Stripe!” Mark’s cousin Vimma exclaimed, and the six-year-old girl ran fearlessly over to the huge cat, closely followed by the rest of the young children.
The girl’s mother, Mark’s youngest aunt Nilla, drew breath for a shriek, then barely held it in check when the beautiful twelve hundred pound animal merely rolled over to expose his belly for scratching, and emitted a thunderous purr.
“It’s all right, Stripe was trained to guard our children with his life.” Talia assured her as all the children began petting, scratching and climbing on the patiently enduring Sleng cat. “And it appears that until we have children, he’ll consider Mark’s cousins to be a worthy substitute.”
“He’s absolutely magnificent!” Nilla stated as the entire group moved over to admire Stripe, and to make sure the children behaved themselves with the powerful feline.
“Here comes Scout. Mind he doesn’t startle you.” Mark warned as he held up his arm to catch the great silver and black eagle, who came in fast, back-winging hard for control and to shed his speed. His widely spread feet impacted Mark’s firmly braced forearm hard enough to spin them a third of a turn, he gave one more wingbeat to stabilize his balance, and only then did he carefully grip his master’s arm with his claws as he fussily folded his wings.
Most of Mark’s family had ducked out of the way of this performance with laughing shrieks and exclamations, and now they moved back as Scout struck a regal pose for them.
“He knows when to show up for his share of the attention!” Mark laughed as he gave the bird a scratch under his beak.
“He’s beautiful!” one of the children breathed in amazement.
“And now he wants down!” Mark noticed as Scout began readying to jump off his arm.
He crouched to lower the bird to the paving, and the eagle hopped off, re-settled his feathers with a shake and a ruffle, and looked expectantly at nine-year-old Jind with his head cocked to one side. The boy crouched down for a closer look, mesmerized by the sight.
“Can we pet him?” Jind asked without looking away.
“Sure, just be sure to avoid his wings and tail, and to always go with the grain of his feathers.” Mark smiled as he knelt to demonstrate.
Talia noticed his adolescent and teenage cousins gazing with fascination at the Elven gathering. “This kind of gathering is called zhenshimlaia, and is considered good for the soul. Feel free to join in if you’d like, and you will be warmly welcomed. The dance movements are easier in the inner rings, so you might want to start there.”
“Are they allowed to do that?!!” Migby asked in adolescent amazement.
“What?” Talia asked, trying to follow what the girl was looking at.
“That!” the slim brunette pointed, and laughed. “Those in the middle there! They’re all almost naked, and they’re rubbing each other all over the place! I mean, not everywhere, but pretty close!”
“Ah. Well you must understand that Hilia is a tropical place, and even humans tend to wear very brief clothing in such weather. You’re lightly dressed for a Finitran evening, but if you join those dancing there you would be sweating and rolling up your sleeves in only a few moments. Beyond that, Elvish culture is far less physically inhibited than your own. So yes, they’re allowed to do that, or even to fornicate on the lawn if they should so choose, though they would not, out of respect for Mark’s sensitivities on the matter.
“You will not be asked or pressured in any way to do anything that makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable, and if any of us should unintentionally contravene a human taboo as regards your person, communicating that by the slightest word or gesture would be immediately respected, and the contravention will cease immediately.
“On the other hand, if what you see makes you uncomfortable…” she paused to giggle a bit, “Well, you have the right to look away. Besides, though there are elves who will make a sexual occasion out of any event, what you’re seeing there is not sexual. It is communal healing, and the joy of shared sensation, and many other fine things, but those who become sexually aroused by it will almost certainly withdraw to a less distracting location to explore those feelings further, and be completely open about doing so.”
“Go on, go play with the elves, they’re not going to bite you!” Sana urged with a smile and a shooing motion.
“Yes Grandma!” Migby laughed, but she and Mark’s four teenage cousins were still a bit hesitant.
“Balen, Zayobod, if I could have a moment of your time?” Mark asked as he stood, seemingly addressing thin air.
This proved not to be the case as those two elves appeared in the closest open area on the spacious patio, some twenty feet away, and nimbly hurried over. “Yes Mark?” asked Balen, who had just managed to arrive first.
“All these fine people are my family from Finitra. These five are cousins who’d like to enjoy some of this fine celebration we’re having. Would you and your cohorts be so kind as to be their guides to all things Hilian and elven while they’re here?”
“We would be delighted to do so, my Prince!” Zayobod grandly declared, and since he was only wearing a swimming clout, he immediately conjured a wide-brimmed purple hat onto his head, complete with a long blue feather, only so he could sweep it off with a flourish as part of his ornate and gallant bow. He straightened with just as much panache and replaced it on his head, whereupon it disappeared again.
This performance drew a laugh all around and a considerable lightening of the mood.
“What a show-off!” Balen giggled as she rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation and turned to the waiting five. “I’m Balen, I’m nineteen though I probably don’t look it to you, and you would not believe how much fun there’s going to be here today! This zhenshimlaia is almost over, though there’s still time to join in if you want to, and all the official stuff doesn’t start for ove
r an hour, so we have time for swimming or climbing or reef diving or we could go to the beach or see the jungle or go flying…”
“You can make us fly?!!” Petha exclaimed incredulously, interrupting Balen’s stream of words. “Do you know how much that would cost at home?! Per minute? You bet, let’s go flying!”
“It would be our pleasure!” Zayobod laughed as he offered her his arm. “We’ll assign each of you a personal wizard! All of us Volunteers are from The Nine Valleys, you know, where such entertainments are as free as the air to breathe!”
The seven trooped off, eagerly discussing the possibilities, even as many of the Volunteers broke off what they were doing and moved to join the two elves and their charges on the highest lawn.
Sheramiv appeared with two of the Atoning and enough wicker chairs for thirty people in six neat floating stacks.
“I took the liberty of bringing some seating.” Sheramiv stated as the other two distributed chairs.
“Thanks, but before I use one, I think I’ll partake of this delicious smelling feast my family has so graciously provided!” Mark said as he stepped to the table and began preparing a plate. “Suddenly I’m starved!”
“Let me get that for you, my lad.” his grandmother admonished as she deftly took the plate from his hand. “I imagine you like everything your father liked?”
“I do, Grandma, thanks!” Mark chuckled. “It’ll be great to have Finitran food again! It’s been a while, and while I’ve been eating like a king the last few days, it’s just not the same when you don’t know what any of it is!”
“I thought that would be the case.” Sana smiled. “That’s why the girls and I made the same things you’ve probably had on every midsummer’s eve of your life. We cooked it all up from scratch too. Now you boys sit down and we’ll serve up.”
She and her two daughters and three daughters-in-law swung into action with practiced ease, and the two Atoning obliged them by providing small patio tables that matched the chairs for each of the diners.
“If any of you would like something different, feel free to partake of anything on this table of elven fare.” Talia invited, indicating the refreshments table that had been kept freshly stocked, and looked as tantalizing as it had when it had been produced. “Most of the dishes are intended as snack food or light fare, but it is fully nutritious, and Mark has yet to find any of it less than delicious.”
“Ya, and that way you’ll leave more of this delicious normal food for me!” Mark jested. “If I preserve it and ration it carefully, it might be enough to keep me free of cravings for a year! Sweet Mother of All, have I ever missed this stuff!”
“That’s fair, since as delicious as it is, we eat that stuff every week, or at least twice a month!” Wittan laughed as he accepted the plate his wife handed him, and moved to the elven table to augment his meal with tidbits, and a tall frosty glass of elven bumbleberry wine.
“I want to go flying too!” nine-year-old Jind suddenly complained. “How come Migby gets to go and I don’t? How come she doesn’t have to eat supper yet?”
“We’ll see about it after supper.” his mother Sanan pleasantly told him, then raised her voice a bit to be heard out on the lawn. “Migby! You and your four cousins had better eat before you run off to do whatever! It’s past time for supper, in Belinhome at least!”
“Prince Mark, may I make a suggestion?” Sheramiv asked.
Mark’s mouth was too full to answer, so he nodded and waved for her to continue with his table knife.
“As I mentioned at The Living Palace soon after we met, there are four of us among the Atoning, all males as it happens, who have dependent children at this time. It would be a kindness to their four children to allow them to visit here today, to see how their fathers serve and to gain an understanding of what we’ve been doing since we swore to you. Such things are not always easy to explain to children who have a parent who is suddenly absent most of the time.”
Mark finished chewing, deep in thought, and swallowed hard. “Gods, I never even thought.” he muttered, then turned to his youngest cousins. “Well, what do you think, kids? Would you like to meet some elves your own age, or close enough to it?”
“Sure!” Jind shouted, and the rest happily agreed.
“Sure, bring the four tykes and their parents by, now if they’re ready to eat, or after we’re done if they’re not.” Mark told Sheramiv. “And I want it known among the Atoning that I won’t have them neglecting their families in order to serve me. Their families have nothing to atone for, and it’s unjust for them to have to share in the atonement by being deprived of the presence of a family member. Have the Atoning with children serve no more than a third of the time in a work week, just like any guildsman in Debivin, with the same days off.”
“It will be known.” Sheramiv solemnly nodded.
“Are you married?” he suddenly asked.
“I am, as are almost all of the Atoning. “ she nodded again. “Though none of the Volunteers have wed yet. And before you speak more on the subject, you should know that my husband is mightily displeased with me right now, and has been since the moment at your wedding when he knew that I had forsworn the vow of your invitation. When Yazadril put me back in my place, my husband told me that I had shamed him and our nation, and he has not spoken to me since. And justly so. I know I still have his love, but it will be a very long time before I earn his forgiveness. Most of our spouses feel the same.
“I’ll have the four children and their mothers brought by when your meal is finished.
“And now, with your permission, there are things I must oversee. But first…” The First Minister of Hilia turned and laid a finger on Ria’s hilt for a moment. Talia did the same, and the two exchanged a nod while Talia grinned.
“Excellent. Thank you Sheramiv.” Talia nodded again.
“One more thing before you go.” Mark said as Sheramiv prepared to Translocate. “You once told me that we had better things for the Atoning to be doing than managing small hotels, yet we have them bringing chairs.”
“Yes, since only the Volunteers and the most capable security personnel among the Atoning are allowed to serve you personally, for security reasons. Though the trustworthiness of many can be verified by the Marking of Osbald’s Oath, few of them are qualified to offer protection to you and your guests. Where we can arrange it, we take no chances with your well-being, or that of those who are dear to you. This is unaffected by there being other strong protections in place, including the Hilian Wards.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you.” Mark nodded.
Sheramiv took this as a dismissal, and disappeared.
“Do you know what ‘Reginus’ means, my lad?” his grandfather asked while buttering a hot crusty bun.
Mark had already taken another bite of his roast, and simply shook his head no.
“It means king, lad. King, in Old High Debivinian. And it suits you.”
Mark almost choked on his mouthful. “Please!” he finally laughed when he could. “Don’t tell me there’s some ancient prophecy that one of us with that name was destined to hold a crown! It’s spooky enough that the seers named us key to the nexus!”
“No, no, quite the opposite in fact.” the elder Mark chuckled as he spooned gravy onto his bun and took a big bite of it, which he finished before he continued.
“My grandfather didn’t take that name because we had a king in our future, but rather because we had one in our past! Some sixteen hundred years ago Finitra was divided by civil war into three smaller kingdoms, when the old king died without a clear heir. One of the three was ruled for some sixty years by our ancestor Markhan Reginus, which as I say means King Markhan in Old High Debivinian. He and the other two kings then made a deal to re-unite Finitra under King Wittan’s ancestor, beginning the present dynasty, which includes our reigning monarch King Dren. This unity was necessary to curb the aggressive intentions of the Kings of Bhia and Iktra of that t
ime. As part of the deal, our ancestor was given a non-hereditary title and the ownership of vast estates down south, perhaps a third of which are still intact and are run by my father, your great-grandfather, spry old goat that he is at the age of eighty-four. And our ancestor agreed to give up his name, Markhan Reginus, as a show of loyalty to the new regime, and he took the name Longstrider.
“Then, long centuries after all that, my grandfather performed a brave act of valorous service for King Dren’s great-grandfather King Gan, the nature of which has never been revealed from a state of military secrecy. Out of gratitude for this brave unknown act, King Gan finally granted my grandfather, Kees Longstrider, the right to use the old family name again. He thus became the first Markhan Reginus Longstrider, amidst much pomp and ceremony. And that’s why we’ve passed the name down to every firstborn son ever since.”
“Fascinating.” Mark nodded. “I wonder why my pa never told me that.”
“Well, it doesn’t mean much, except to us, and it’s not wise to have it well known. We Longstriders are well liked and well regarded, and we have our own magic, we’re handy in a scrape, and we tend to stand out in a crowd. If we bandied that story about, some fool would be proposing we take the crown as usurpers every time King Dren did anything that was unpopular, and then we’d have to prove our loyalty all over again, every time. It can be unhealthy to have a name that means king, my lad.”
“Good point.” Mark nodded as he started in on a huge wedge of sweet yam and berry pie. “How do you mean, Longstriders have their own magic?”
“Well you might not have had a chance to notice in the isolation of Shinosa Valley, but generally men my size, let alone yours, find that they’re bigger than a human man should be. Every man I’ve met outside our family who was my height and who had any athletic ability at all was as skinny as a post, and those with both my height and my weight often barely have the strength to lift their own weight out of a chair. And they tend to be built a bit funny. Except Longstriders. And that’s been true for at least sixteen centuries since the first Markhan Reginus.”
“Generally, the smaller an animal or a person is, the stronger they are for their weight.” Karna explained. “Thus very large men generally lose agility, quickness, and endurance, compared to smaller men.
“This isn’t so for Longstrider men, as it would be without the magic, subtle though it is. You’re all as spry as men half your size. The same is even more true of the giants; without their inherent magic they couldn’t even lift their own bodies out of bed.
“And Longstrider men breed true, but on the male side only, and their magic doesn’t affect girls at all. Thus all of your Grandpa’s sons, and their sons, are his same size and look almost the same as he does. His daughters look just like his wife, since his magic prevents his seed from affecting them, so the maternal characteristics are passed on complete. His daughters and their husbands produce children that are a normal admixture of both parents’ characteristics.”
She smiled a bit self-consciously. “I was curious about it after I married Wittan, so I did what research I could on the subject.”
Mark looked around as he finished eating. “That all seems true, except for me. I don’t look just like my pa did, even though he did look almost exactly like Grandpa, as you say. I got some of his looks, and some of my mam’s, and so did Steb and Shelvy. And I’m bigger than my pa too, and Steb would have been within an inch or two of me, and Shelvy would have been almost as big as Pa.”
“She’s right about that magic affecting you though.” Talia commented. “There have been a handful of other men in history who were your size, but I doubt any of them could have sprinted around the house like you did today in Finitra, or wielded a sword with half the quickness you showed in Kletiuk, even if their swords were as light as GrimFang.”
“As I see it, there are two possible reasons for the pattern being broken with you and your siblings.” Karna explained. “If you were in any way less than your father and your grandfather, that is if you were smaller or weaker, or less intelligent or talented, I would conclude that the Longstrider strain had finally weakened over the many generations. But that’s obviously not the case, and if anything the opposite is true. We can therefore conclude that the breeding quality and magic of your mother’s bloodline was so powerful that it was able to blend completely with your father’s Longstrider blood, producing something new that's an improvement on both lines. And though your mother displayed no magic talent, this is supported by the fact that her sister, your Aunt Tilfi here, has more than enough magic to have mastered the arts of Healers. That level of power could have made her a journeyman in the wizards’ guilds, if she’d been so inclined.”
“Thank you for saying.” Tilfi smiled. “And I think you’re right. That’s all consistent with everything I’ve learned as a Healer.”
Mark nodded and ran a hand through his hair as he set his empty plate aside. “Damn.” he quietly cursed. “That means that Steb and Shelvy’s deaths are an even greater loss than I’d thought. Either one of them could have had the same knack with magic that I’ve got. They could’ve been great wizards, and neither of them were any more aware of it than I was at the time.”
Karna set her plate aside, stood to walk over to Mark, and leaned down to give him a supportive hug. “Nothing could have made your brother and sister’s deaths be any more tragic a loss than they were, my fine nephew. But it was very unlikely that they would have shared your gifts. Even one magic user every third generation would be a lot for the most gifted of human families, and more than one in a single generation would almost be a miracle. Thus Tilfi got the gift, while your mother Helem did not, though her blood was strong enough to fully blend with a Longstrider’s.”
“Ah. Thanks Aunt Karna.” Mark smiled as she stood and took his hands for a moment. “It’s a funny old world we live in, isn’t it?”
“It surely is. At the heart of it all, blind chance determines almost everything.” she agreed with a compassionate smile, and returned to her chair, where she exchanged a quick hug and kiss with her husband Wittan before resuming her meal.
“We have visitors arriving.” Talia smiled as she stood, as did Mark. “Can we have that end of the patio cleared for a moment? Thank you.”
Those closest to the west end of the patio moved toward the center, bringing their chairs, tables, and children with them. Sheramiv Translocated into the open space with four elven women and their four children. With his recently gained knowledge of elven development, Mark guessed the young elves ranged in age from about six to fourteen years. Sheramiv began to lead them over to meet Mark and Talia, who rose to meet them halfway.
Sheramiv opened her mouth to speak, but one of the mothers beat her to it. “Good day Prince Mark, Princess Talia, I am Chingla. We thank you for the mercy you’ve shown to our worthless husbands, which is surely more than they deserve after the blatant stupidity they displayed at your wedding.” she said with a sweet smile, which made Sheramiv wince visibly.
Mark smiled in return and offered a gracious bow. “We’re pleased to meet you all. I’d like you to know that I wouldn’t have suggested the Atoning’s vow of service, or any other punishment beyond a stern lecture. Though I was glad enough to accept it when they proposed it and Prince Yazadril suggested I do so. At any rate, I’m very sorry to have been part of events that have in any way detracted from your happiness, or that of your children.”
Chingla giggled and made a graceful curtsy “Thank you, gracious prince. You are most charming, and it’s a joy to hear the richness of your voice again. And it’s kind of you to allow our children to see where their fathers spend their working time these days.”
“A stern lecture, you say!” one of the other elven mothers laughed. “My idiot mate is nine hundred eighty-seven, and if he hasn’t learned wisdom by now, I doubt a stern lecture would penetrate his thick skull!”
“Sheramiv here explai
ned that you’d like our children to meet your young cousins.” another revealed. “A wonderful idea, since meeting new playmates is such a rare treat for elven young, our birthrate being what it is. If you’d like, we would be glad to provide childcare for the bunch of them today, so that your aunts and uncles can be free to enjoy your birthday celebrations. You can be sure we’ll keep them all safe and well entertained.”
“A generous offer, which you’ll have to discuss with my aunts and uncles.” Mark laughed, and turned to his young cousins. “How about you kids introduce our new friends to Stripe and Scout?” he asked.
This drew enthusiastic agreement from all nine young, who were soon engrossed in lavishing their attentions upon the two pleased pets while getting to know one another. Their mothers sat close by, happily engaged in a discussion of children and their rearing, and how they contrasted between their two races.
“As I said my lad, Reginus is a name that fits you well. You’re a fine prince, and you’d make a fine king.”
“Thanks Grandpa.” Mark said as he and Talia resumed their seats. “Of course, I learned almost everything I know from my pa, and he always said he learned most of what he knew from you.”
“Bah!” the elder Mark grinned and waved dismissively. “Your pa was a damn fine soldier, plain and simple, the same as me, and I’m sure you did learn much of value from him. But that little speech you just made, you didn’t learn that from us. Markhan and I, we’re as well-spoken as the next man, but we couldn’t come up with a phrase like; ‘in any way detracted from your happiness’, not if you gave us a year’s wages and set fire to our feet! The same’s true of that fancy bow you do. From what I remember of your mother from her months in Belinhome before she married Markhan, I’d say you learned it from her.”
That set Mark back a bit as he thought about it. “You know, I have to say you’re right.”
“No doubt of it.” Tilfi agreed with a bit of a smug smile. “Helem always said she didn’t care if she married a trapper or a prince, but she intended to be fully prepared for either eventuality. She could be a stickler for etiquette when she chose to, and she could play the lady with the best of them. I’ve no doubt she made sure you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in formal company.”
“That’s very true.” Mark nodded. “I guess it’s just easier for a boy to remember his father’s lessons in honor and tradecraft than his mother’s lessons in proper manners and keeping your sleeves out of your soup. But now that I think about it, they’ve both been as valuable to me in the last few days. The last couple of months, I felt like my mother’s spirit was still watching me, encouraging me, hoping I wouldn’t disappoint her. Less so since I met Talia though.”
“And now I must heed the manners that my own parents taught me, since they’ll be here with the rest of my family in a few moments!” Talia laughed as she gave Mark a quick kiss on the cheek. “Which means that the planned events here will be starting in about five minutes.”
Mark glanced around and noticed that the zhenshimlaia had long since dispersed, and that the Atoning had left, presumably to return to their duties and assignments. A few of the Volunteers remained on the lawns, but they were in the act of standing and gathering just below the patio. The rest of them flew into sight from around the mountain in a laughing and yelling aerial pack, and landed in groups amidst their compatriots, along with the five cousins they were guiding. The sun was just reaching the peak of high noon overhead, and there were rain clouds gathering on the northern horizon.
“Looks like rain.” he commented. “They say it does that a lot here in the afternoons, as I recall.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t get rained on.” Talia laughed, just as Yazadril emerged from the door of the cottage, followed by Nemia, Hilsith, Dalia, Bezedil, and Alilia.
Yazadril was resplendent in his formal armor, Mountainfire sheathed on his back, though unlike the last time he’d worn them he was without the crown of The High People. The elves who accompanied him were also dressed somewhat formally, and Alilia wore her Battle Wizard’s uniform, less her staff of office.
Somewhat to Mark’s surprise, his Finitran relatives all smoothly stood and bowed or curtsied together, and his grandfather snapped to attention after he straightened and saluted Yazadril crisply before offering his greeting.
“Commander. A pleasure to meet you and your family.”
“Colonel Longstrider.” Yazadril nodded as he returned the salute, then he grinned and offered his hand as a human would. “We’re pleased to meet all of you as well. All of us Mark’s family, gathered to celebrate his birthday. I hope we get to know one another well, and to that end I propose that we make it an annual tradition.”
“Your family and mine, to meet on Mark’s birthday? Seems a fine idea to me!”
“And a fine idea it is, if I say so myself, for it will enrich us with fine friends and happy times.” Yazadril pronounced as he turned to Mark and Talia.
“Excellent work today in Kletiuk, far more so than anyone expected of you and your little company. You have silenced those who speculated that as a military force you were dilettantes, and we are reaping a fine harvest of knowledge in the Hall of The Just Alliance. I’m very proud of you both, and as proud of every member of the Hilian military. Your prowess brings honor to The Just Alliance.”
He turned to address the gathering. “We’ll all have a chance to make introductions and mingle in a few minutes. Mark’s birthday celebrations are about to begin.
“Talia?”
A hush fell as she floated up to Mark’s eye level and faced him with a loving smile, and offered him her hands, which he gently enfolded within his own. The Volunteers and Finitran cousins on the highest lawn joined those on the patio in granting the young couple their complete attention.
“Mark my love, my beautiful husband, happy birthday. Today you are seventeen years old, which is an amazing fact in itself. I had originally envisioned a birthday celebration similar to what we’ve enjoyed so far, a gathering of family and friends to share happiness and fun and the joy and love of each other’s company. And in about three hours we’ll return here with a few more friends, our family, and the Volunteers, and we’ll continue to enjoy exactly that.
“But there are a great many who would like to celebrate your birthday, and to give you gifts, and many of them would like to make this a great event of such magnitude that it will be remembered for eons.
“We’ve achieved a compromise of sorts, in that I’ve made everyone promise to try to keep the atmosphere casual. But there is greatness here today, that’s certain.
“There was a danger that almost every person from every race on every continent in The Just Alliance would send you birthday presents. Billions of them. They were filling rooms at a startling pace, for the sheer volume of them was staggering, and a great deal of our facilities would have been dedicated to their storage. We had to send them back, along with pleasant little notes explaining our refusal. Before we began doing so, we calculated that you’d have been sent over nine hundred times as much wealth and goods as we received as wedding gifts. I thought that would have been more than a little ridiculous, and I hope you agree with what I did.”
“I do!” he laughed.
“In the end, I decided that only your family would give you presents, and that anyone else who wished you a happy birthday could contribute worth or effort to one of our existing and ongoing projects. Those include the completion of facilities here. I allowed that if they also wished to contribute well-thought improvements or additions to our projects, that would be fine, so long as they had the approval of Sheramiv’s architectural teams. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what that has led to. For instance, consider that large bush at the corner of the cottage.”
She smiled and led him there by the hand, walking on four feet of air. “The bush that was here has been replaced by an Illusion of a bush, used with silencing spells to hide construct
ion that was taking place here this morning, while we were eating breakfast. I dismiss the Illusion, thus, and you see that the front wall of the cottage has been extended four feet, and within that wall is a door. The door isn’t really noteworthy.”
“I see.” Mark chuckled. “Just a door to the other side of a wall that you could walk around in two seconds.”
“Not quite.” Talia teased. “For while the door is not special, the doorframe is very special indeed, for it houses one of many similar gifts given to you by the Kwetkerthok. Or rather, improvements to the facility that the gargoyles have provided in honor of your birthday. It houses a spell heretofore unique to that race’s constructions; an Addressable Permanent Translocation Plane, or Plane door in conversational terms. Here beside the door are several addresses carved into the stone, and this drilled sapphire slides up and down on its platinum rod, indicating which of the addresses is on the other side of the Plane door. I’m told the sapphire is immovable while the door is open. Right now we’ll leave it at the top selection, the Grand Hall.”
She turned the doorknob and swung the door open, revealing the cavern at the bottom of the stairs below the cottage. “When the door is set for the hall, we can walk through the doorway directly from here to there. And we’ll do so now. If you would all accompany us?” and the grinning elfess led Mark through the door. He felt no particular sensation beyond a bit of a tickle of his sense of magic, otherwise it seemed no more than walking through any other door.
The doorway they emerged from was situated just left of the stairs, and the huge room they entered had finished the transformation they’d seen in progress a few hours earlier. Great arched doorways now ringed most of the room, and it seemed like a quarter of the wall on the south side had been removed from the floor up to the marble ring atop the columns. In that quadrant, between and above freestanding double doorways, there was bright blue sky above with the distant ocean below, and the occasional cries of birds and monkeys were carried in on a fresh sea breeze.
Mark knew that what he was experiencing was impossible, since half the rock of the mountain lay between that side of the room and the surface in that direction.
“I assume they didn’t really dig most of the volcano away to make a big window, did they?” he asked incredulously.
“No.” Talia laughed as she led him toward the center of the room. “It’s an Illusion of what you’d see if they had, transmitted from the surface as it happens. The sound and breeze come through Displacement Planes; smaller, simpler versions of the doorway we just used. If you walk over and touch it, the wall there is still solid rock. There are different versions of that in every fully underground chamber and corridor, so it’s all light and bright and airy. Gifts from The People of Morning.”
“Wow!” Mark marveled, then realized that there were dozens of people of every race gathered in a large semi-circle around the center of the room within the pillars. By now everyone who’d been at the cottage had filed through the Plane door and gathered behind them.
They passed between the pillars, and Mark couldn’t help looking up, his eyes drawn by the millions of tiny prisms that composed a ring-shaped chandelier twenty feet in diameter. It shimmered in waves and tinkled delicately as it was moved by the barely-discernible breeze.
Their group joined those who waited near the center of the room.
“My knowledge of the window Illusion and the Plane doors is almost all I’ve learned of the many modifications that have been made to the plans for Hilia since we last saw them.” Talia said as she indicated Sheramiv. “Thus it falls to our First Minister to describe them further.”
“Thank you, Princess.” Sheramiv smiled.
“Your Majesties, you have empowered me to operate the government of Hilia, including the approval of constructions and the appointment of personnel, and I have done so. Plans and finances for constructions on Hilia have been updated and expanded almost every hour since we first met at The Living Palace.
“Even before yesterday, the generosity of the people, organizations and governments of The Just Alliance was unprecedented, and colossal. Contributions of currency, materials, and effort were unstinting, from every corner of the world.
“However, yesterday morning Princess Talia bade me to announce that birthday gifts and presents for you would only be accepted in the form of contributions of worth or effort toward your existing projects. Since then your projects’ rates of completion, as well as your prosperity and that of this nation, have grown by orders of magnitude. Your treasury is now sufficient to pay for all of your vastly expanded and enhanced facilities both here and overseas. However, since almost all of the effort and materials were contributed, and the rest is already paid for, those funds are now surplus. You understand that this leaves The Principality of Hilia in a very enviable financial position indeed.”
“Huh.” Mark grunted with raised eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we give that money back, if we don’t need it for the purpose it was contributed for?”
“Much of it was donated anonymously.” Sheramiv stated as she shook her head. “And after refusing so many birthday gifts, instead directing people to contribute to the construction funds, we truly risk offending a great many if those contributions are also refused. Instead, I join all those who contributed in wishing you a very happy birthday.”
“I see. Thank you. And I do sincerely thank all the contributors for their generosity.”
“You are most welcome, your Majesty. At any rate, the completed projects I will now unveil are magnificent gifts indeed, given by many, who are all pleased and proud to have taken part in their completion.
“First, the Academy of Cavalry of the Hilian University of The Just Alliance, at Winghoof Estate in The Empire of Sming. It is being overflown at this moment by one of our staff, and we will cast an Illusion of what is seen by her eyes. Can I have everyone please move back from the center of the room a bit.”
They did, then gave a round of applause as a twenty foot wide area of the floor there became a moving picture of Winghoof as seen from a few hundred feet up. There was a magnificent sunset in progress there, revealing herds of hundreds of fine horses running over hilly pastures, then a vastly expanded area of corrals and barns, then four new large two-story buildings in an open block around a complex of runs and yards, and finally the previously existing yards and buildings of the guest ranch. Between the Academy and the ranch house were gathered a crowd of almost a thousand humans mixed with a few dozen elves, a handful from other races, and a young white dragon. They held two huge banners stretched taut above their heads; one read ‘Congratulations Mark and Talia!’, and the other ‘Happy Birthday Prince Mark!’. As the flying viewpoint approached, they cheered mightily, and the dragon roared and blew a great ball of flame straight up.
“The facility’s staff, and those who worked on its construction.” Sheramiv announced. “And a few who contributed horses.”
The viewpoint circled above the scene, and Mark couldn’t help calling out; “Thank you!” and waving, then he sheepishly laughed at himself. “They probably can’t see me, can they?”
“No.” Sheramiv chuckled. “But they know that all of us are watching, and they’ll be able to see recordings of this presentation later, so they’ll hear what you say then.”
“Ah. Good.” he grinned as the Illusion ended.
“Also completed recently today, with expansions and modifications; The Hilia-Heartwood Academy of Healing, a facility of The Faculty of Healing of The Hilian University of The Just Alliance. It has facilities for nine hundred patients and six hundred students. As it’s night there, I present this structural Illusion.”
The gathering applauded as a semi-transparent beech tree appeared, tall enough to brush the intersection of the arches overhead. It was riddled with installations from the highest major branch to the roots that spread horizontally at ground level, both within the wood and built onto the outside of it. By the size
of the rooms, Mark judged the real tree to be about eight hundred feet tall, and perhaps eighty feet in diameter at the base of the trunk.
“I now bring your attention to the branch of the Hilia-Heartwood Academy that is dedicated to new mothers and young infants, via a fully reciprocal Projection.” Sheramiv stated as the structural Illusion faded, to be replaced by a life-size group of six elves, four humans, a dwarf, a selkie, and a giant who sat cross-legged. The rest stood, and they were all gathered around a dark-haired human woman in a white gown who was seated in a chair and holding a lightly-bundled infant. “That means that they can see and hear us as we see and hear them, Your Majesty, though they are illusory.”
The illusory group smiled and waved and called out; “Happy birthday, Prince Mark!”
“Thank you!” he called and waved in return, which made him feel a bit awkward, as it seemed like he stood only ten feet from them. He realized it was because he felt the urge to walk over and shake hands or something, and he chuckled at himself.
“Permit me to introduce Citizen Willia Sneg, of Bhia, and her son Tog.” Sheramiv indicated them with a warm smile. “Less than an hour ago, Tog became the first child to be born at the Hilia-Heartwood Academy of Healing. Healers in Bhia doubted that either he or his mother could survive his birth, for there were severe complications, yet this team of Healers brought them safely through the experience, and fully restored their health and vitality as well.”
Mark and Talia went over to get a close look at the baby as his mother held him up a bit to proudly display him.
“He’s beautiful!” Talia cooed at the sight of the tiny sleeping infant.
“Thank you.” Willia grinned.
“Happy birthday, Tog.” Mark softly murmured, his grin as wide as his face could hold, then he straightened and faced the Healers. “Thank you.” he told them sincerely, and they smiled and nodded graciously before the whole group disappeared.
“And now, I present our university’s Faculty of Skilled Trades; The Hilian Trades and Crafts School at Juncture, where the borders of the three empires of Debivin come together, again, seen through overflying eyes.” Sheramiv announced as Mark and Talia moved back to their places.
An illusion appeared on the floor, showing a huge campus composed of two rings of twelve large buildings circling a round area of parkland. Though it was in the midst of the darkest hours of the night, the campus was extremely well lit by hundreds of elven Light spells. A gigantic banner covered the entire front of the building closest to the road that served the school, and read; ‘Grand Opening 07 01 01 AJA’.
“This school was originally planned with six buildings.” Sheramiv informed the gathering amidst another round of applause. “It is now complete, as far as its plans had progressed up to two hours ago. However, a third ring of buildings has been proposed and approved within the last hour, and they will be constructed tomorrow. With thirty-six of these structures serving almost seventy thousand apprentices, this will be the largest trade school on Kellaran.”
“What do the numbers on the banner mean?” Mark asked.
“That the grand opening of the school will take place on the seventh day of the first month of the first year of The Age of The Just Alliance.” Sheramiv explained. “This follows the new calendar convention that was proposed by Mileemi of Thon yesterday, and it eliminates a great deal of confusion, since almost every nation of every race used different dating before the founding of the Alliance, which is counted the first day of the new age. Adoption of the new dating has been swift, due to the pressures of impending war. Otherwise it would likely take decades to forge such universal compliance.”
“That’s good thinking.” Mark nodded.
“The fortifications and minor modifications at your other properties are also complete.” Sheramiv continued as she banished the illusion. “Including the modifications to The Queen of Waves. But since they are for the most part unaltered in appearance since you last saw them, we save the time of showing them. The facilities and modifications at Focus Mountain are almost complete as well, but you will see them in person a bit later.
“That leaves only the presentation of the completed facilities here at Hilia, but before we get to that, I present Prince Dizil of The People of Rain.”
That beaming tropical elf wore a white tunic and sandals that contrasted brightly with his black hair and skin, as did his pearl studded gold crown of office.
“Happy birthday, Prince Mark, and good day, Princess Talia.” Dizil grinned as he stepped forward, holding an ornate parchment clipped to a mahogany writing board. “I have here the treaty, based upon our verbal agreement, that formalizes and finalizes the transfer of the property and sovereignty of the island of Hilia from my nation to The Principality of Hilia. Do you have the payment?”
“We do.” Sheramiv smiled, and waved forward two of the Atoning, who were towing a small and ornate marble chest that was supported by a Levitation. They presented it and opened the lid, revealing the glint of gold. “One thousand one ounce gold Hilian Crowns, the first coins minted as Hilian currency.”
“That’s a surprise to me, that we’re minting our own money!” Mark noted as he took a quick look at one of the coins, struck on one side with a bust portrait of he and Talia wearing similar ornate crowns and smiling into each other’s eyes, and on the other with a map of the island with the sword-star of Hilia in the center. “Nice!” he grinned as he replaced it in the chest.
“We are honored.” Dizil nodded. “The payment is made and accepted. Both the coins and the chest will be treasured by my people for their historical significance. We’ll leave them on display here for the next seven days, along with our copy of the contract, so that they may be viewed by your citizens and guests.” He held the writing board with both hands as he cast a quick spell to copy it, and when he moved his hands apart they each held one, complete with the treaty and a quill pen clipped on. “Our signatures will stand to seal our agreement for all time, and will be witnessed in the third party by Prince Yazadril of the High People, First Commander of the Militaries of The Just Alliance.”
He handed one of the boards to Mark, they each signed, then Mark passed his to Talia as Dizil passed his to Yazadril.
When they’d all signed both copies, Yazadril spoke. “Please remove both copies of the treaty from the writing boards and place them back to back, thank you, now the four of us shall grasp them both, one of us on each edge, with our right hands. Thank you.”
They held the parchments high, and Yazadril drew Mountainfire. He held it hanging point down beneath the treaty with his left hand, and loudly intoned; “As it is written, so let it be, forevermore!” and drove the great sword’s point into the floor with a loud clank, which triggered a bright wave of elven binding, and a round of cheering and applause from the gathering.
“It’s amazing that you don’t chip the floor when you do that, Yazadril.” Mark smiled as Sheramiv took the documents from them.
“Ah, well it’s magic, you see.” Yazadril grinned with a wink as he sheathed his sword.
“Now, since I agreed during our original discussion to furnish you with the history of Hilia, as far as it is known, I have had this fine book prepared for you. The last page is the best.”
The tome Prince Dizil magically Retrieved and held to Mark was finely tooled and gilded, the covers were two feet long and eighteen inches wide, and it was three inches thick.
“Why Prince Dizil, thank you!” Talia smiled as she stepped forward to accept the book. “How kind of you to gift us with this! Of course, we can’t give the appearance that you’re trying to tiptoe around our request to not give Mark birthday presents, can we?”
“Of course not, that wouldn’t be best at all!” Dizil laughed.
“The Illustrated History of Hilia.” Talia read. “Apparently, our island has a much more extensive history than I would have guessed!”
“Not really. The first chapter details it’s di
scovery and subsequent use as a storm haven and resupply source for fresh water by various ships over many millennia, and you should save the second chapter to read later. It’s the story of how Hilia came to be an outpost of my nation, and it’s quite an amusing story. The third chapter is quite slim, and details the various patrols our Sentries made here and the occasional pirates they rousted, the fourth is a detailed analysis of the development of the stone and the life of the island since its volcanic heart first rose above the sea. The vast majority of the book is a detailed accounting of events of note that have occurred here since you became Hilia’s monarchs.”
Talia opened the book to its last page, and Mark read over her shoulder, then they both burst out laughing.
“There is a subtitle at the top of the last page that reads; The Seventeenth Birthday Celebrations of Prince Markhan Reginus Longstrider, thus identifying the chapter!” Mark whooped, relieving the puzzlement of the gathering. “There’s a nice picture of Talia receiving this book from Prince Dizil a moment ago, done to look like a masterfully realistic oil painting, as one would expect in a fine history book! The last words printed on the page are what he said just before she opened it; ‘The vast majority of the book is a detailed accounting of events that have occurred here since you became Hilia’s monarchs.’!”
“It will update when the book is closed, up to the moment before it is next opened.” Dizil explained.
“Thank you! It’s wonderful, and very thoughtful of you!” Talia laughed.
“You are most welcome.” Prince Dizil said with a bow, and turned to Sheramiv, who took up the thread of events again.
“All that remains to be done here, in your Hall of Thrones, is to display the finished facilities of Hilia.” she stated. “The spell of Illusion that will be used to display them is contained within two items. Here with the items is one of their crafters; Osbald, Emperor of the Humans of Thon!”
“Emperor Osbald! What a pleasant surprise!” Talia laughed.
“And an honor!” Mark added, as that worthy gentleman allowed himself to become noticeable, and stepped forward.
He bore a warm smile, and a black velvet covered case with about two cubic feet of capacity. “Thank you, I’ve looked forward to meeting both of you. Your nation and your reign have begun without your having been crowned in a grand coronation ceremony, but I’m one of those who think that the informal atmosphere you prefer may be a far more appropriate tradition for the nation you are building here. In that spirit, I give you these.”
He opened the case, and displayed on black velvet within were two magnificent crowns. They were identical except for size, and artistically encrusted with diamonds, rubies and sapphires, each centered with a huge dark blue star sapphire with the sword-star of Hilia centered naturally within the stone.
“The crowns of nations are items of power, due to their worth, the magic that imbues them, and their centuries of history.” Osbald stated, amidst the quiet oohs and ahs of exclamation. “They carry the history of their nations, and while the history of your nation is still rather short, they also carry the history of their crafters’ years of experience. And these were crafted by twenty-four Masters of Wizardry, each of whom is, like myself, a reigning monarch of long standing and experience. And besides, by dividing the work among so many of us, each of us needed only a short diversion from our busy schedules.
“I myself was a jeweler on the project and crafted the metals, and I contributed a few spells, not the least of which are those that ensure that these will always remain light, comfortable, and securely in place, no matter how long and eventful, or uneventful, your state occasions may be.
“I am most proud of a property I had no hand in endowing. They are certified by The High Circle of Spell Casters of The Just Alliance as Eminent Artifacts of Power and Justice, and as such, an oath of justice sworn upon either of them will be sufficiently binding to merit being denoted by the Marking spell that serves as passport to The Just Alliance. The pictogram that appears will be of your crown centered before the sword-star symbol.
“There’s a card from all of us in the bottom of the case.
“Now, if you will allow me, I will fit these to your brows, and I will establish a Link with you, in order to instruct you in the use of their spells.”
Osbald set the case aside and Levitated it, then visibly hesitated in the act of lifting Talia’s crown out as the Link was established. “My my, what an experience! The quality and depth of the Link you two share, and of Talia’s Link with Ria, are both quite refreshing!”
“We’re grateful for this chance to share your thoughts, Osbald.” Mark told him. “While we’re doing so, we have quite a nice selection of spells between us now, and I could pass you any of them in a usable form in a few seconds. Judging by your apparent skill, I’m sure you’d be able to take quite a few. Of course we hope that you have a few to offer in trade.”
“Certainly, and thank you. I have a few things I like to keep to myself, but you can have your choice of these, and the ones in your crowns are these. Now as for yours… Ah, you have an amazing selection! Of course I know many of them, or things that are functionally similar, but these magecraft works are intriguing. I’ll learn these twenty-eight… twenty-nine spells. Thank you! And you already have your selections from my repertoire! Masterfully done!”
“Thank you, Osbald. Your selection is formidable, but we managed to choose a few dozen things we’d like to work with. And it’s a genuine pleasure sharing with someone who can think over a Link even faster than I can!”
“Good selections you made, but on the other point, you’re a flatterer. I could neither pass nor retrieve spells with anything close to your deftness at the task, and it’s obvious you’re just stretching your wings. It’s been a pleasure working with you. We’ll have to do it again soon.”
While this psionic exchange had been going on, Osbald had placed Talia’s crown upon her head. Mark had gone to one knee to allow the same to be done for him, but he held his head high and grinned. Now he stood as Osbald ended the Link.
“Sheramiv waited to reveal the developments here at Hilia in order to allow you the use of the spells for the display of your realm that are embedded in your crowns, since they are of particularly high quality. Why don’t you try them now?”
Mark and Talia did so, and an eighteen foot long model Illusion of the island appeared floating two feet in the air in the center of the room.
“It’s adjustable in dimension, area of focus, and time.” Osbald revealed. “Why not make it bigger? Don’t worry about us, we’ll just wade through it.”
The Illusion grew until it filled the entire area between the pillars.
“Wow!” Mark breathed. At this size the volcano was ten feet high, and on its shallow slope was the cottage, the patio, and a tiny but easily discernible view of Stripe laying there and grooming himself.
“Now use the interior view.” Osbald suggested, and the Illusion became semi-transparent.
They could now see within the cottage, and through the stone to the stairs that led down and the chamber they were in. Mark waved his arm, and the tiny illusion of him did the same simultaneously.
“Your crowns don’t know the land yet, so they only show the parts that you two are aware of.” Osbald explained.
“Most of these gathered here are representatives of the crews who have worked on the constructions here, eager to see your reaction at the unveiling.” Sheramiv smiled. “Allow me to pass you my knowledge of the facilities. But not all at once. Here are the hotel facilities and apartments for staff members and residents, all excavated beneath the surface of the outside of the volcano, all equipped with hidden doors and windows to the outside to maintain the existing natural look of the mountain. The top third of them on the south side are reserved for diplomats and their staff.
“As you can see, we have chosen to use various shades of white marble throughout all of the facilities, in o
rder to brighten the ambiance and to contrast with the black obsidian of which Hilia is composed. This also gives every facility in the nation a certain stylistic unity. On the other hand, there is a great variety in the ways that the marble and the obsidian have been decoratively shaped and carved, and the representative styles of stonework of every nation can be found here. The emplacement of abundant indoor plant life is the other feature that we have insisted on being included in the décor of every facility. It adds the warmth of life to the stone of the rooms and corridors, helps purify the air, provides pleasant scents, and improves our balance of trade, since every indoor plant produces food or useful products, and none are purely decorative.
“Here you see the library, university, and embassy facilities that have been excavated from the wall inside the crater, the entire surface of which is now emplaced with concentric layers of balconies, each accessed by arched doorways and double glass doors. The floor of the crater is now manicured parkland, and the plants that grew there naturally were used in the landscaping. Within the mountain, we have recreation and entertainment facilities, and below that retail shopping and trade, below that manufacturing. All told, over one hundred and sixty levels from the rim of the crater down to sea level.
“Now apart from the great beauty and scale of these works, do you notice anything in particular about all this?” Sheramiv asked with a teasing little smile.
“Only that they’ve pretty much hollowed out the entire island, clear down to sea level!” Mark exclaimed in wonder as he and everyone else walked through the Illusion, looking it over. “Those doors at the bottom of the crater wall are huge! The rooms inside are big enough to house dragons!”
“True. Those facilities are indeed meant to be usable by our draconian guests. And we have removed almost seventy percent of the volume of the stone.
She grinned and waited ten patient heartbeats before Mark asked the question. “So what did you do with all the stone?”
“In order to show you that, you will need to shrink this illusion by half, then expand the focus to show the sea for a mile in every direction around the island. Thank you. Now I give you my knowledge of the contours of the seafloor and the reefs that surround Hilia.”
“I take it the stone was dumped into the ocean beyond the reefs?” Mark asked.
“Not quite dumped, but set into the sea by a consortium of crafters of the Selkies, the Kwetkerthok, and The Hidden Nation. They first excavated these tunnels from the lower floors of the manufacturing levels inside the mountain, to the surface of the stone twenty feet below the sea, and they built this.”
The illusion showed a long stone building almost a hundred feet in length set into the gentle slope of the sea floor outside the ring of reefs. It had an arched profile and rounded ends, and was connected to the interior of the island by one of the tunnels. Much of its surface was made up of large round windows that emitted a cheery yellow glow.
“Its tunnel and interior were allowed to fill with water during its construction, then upon completion it was pumped out, and is now completely sealed and dry inside. Once the consortium had proven their concept, they used the rest of the tailings from the excavations on the island to build these. Every time excavations inside the mountain were expanded, they were provided with more building materials with which to increase the scale of their project.” Sheramiv continued, and a city appeared in the sea all around the island.
The scattered domes in the shallow water between the beach and the reefs were fairly small, half the size of the cottage and just extending into the air above. Corridors shaped like tubes, their surfaces almost half window, branched out and wove through the reef to the huge domes in the deeper sea beyond. Though the water there was over one hundred feet deep, the tops of most of these great installations also extended to slightly above the surface, each with six to eighteen floors or levels contained within.
“Sweet mother of all! That’s incredible!” Mark breathed.
“We do like to think so.” Sheramiv stated proudly. “Take some time to look it over, for when you’ve done that, Talia will lead us to the next stage in today’s festivities.”
“There’s as much room under the sea as there is on the island!” Talia marveled as she waded around in the illusion, looking down at it and holding Mark’s hand. “What will we have in it?”
“More hotels, homes, halls, public spaces, classrooms, embassies, entertainments, businesses, factories, and warehouses.” Sheramiv answered. “At capacity we will have a population of almost two million, counting staff, faculty, residents, students, and of course, paying guests. And we’ll fill that capacity within two days.”
“It’ll take us a year just to explore it all!” Mark stated in admiration.
“If you wish to see every inch, perhaps, but to see it in general would not take long. Over two hundred Plane doors have been installed throughout the nation, some of them of large size, so one can get directly to where one is going.”
“Why not just use regular Translocation Plates?” Talia inquired.
“The Plane doors are far more convenient for movement about the island, but standard floor-mounted Translocation Plates are used in several places for their greater security and magical efficiency, to connect places on the island to distant locations around the world. For instance, rather than try to obtain a copy of every single book for your library, not to mention building facilities to store them all, we have Translocation Plates within the library that allow travel directly to the other great libraries of the world. Similarly, they connect our university to other institutions of learning all over Kellaran. Practically speaking, they are all now one great world library, and one great university. And the embassies here are each supplied with a Translocation Plate to the seat of government in their home country.
“Frankly, you would not believe the cost of all these installations, or rather what they would have cost us if purchased on the open market. The Plane doors, Translocation plates, and permanent Illusions of outdoor exposure are particularly expensive. I’m an experienced government financial officer, and even I’m flabbergasted at the intense concentration of wealth that your nation now represents! You could build half of the city of Bojoston for the cost of what you see here, and that metropolis is home to twenty-three million people!”
“By the source.” Talia breathed as she looked around the display. “How do we even begin to express our gratitude for all of this?!!”
“Simply say thank you, and let it run.” Yazadril advised. “The educations, diplomacies, vacations, and lives that will be enjoyed here will allow Hilia to give back to the world all the value you have received, and more.”
“Wise advice indeed.” Sana agreed as she and Mark’s grandfather rejoined them.
“Then we’ll accept it gratefully.” Mark grinned, and turned to the builders’ representatives. “Thank you. We thank you with all our hearts, all of you who’ve worked on and contributed to this wonderful great city you’ve made of a tiny island paradise.”
“And the best part is, so far as you can see from outside, it’s still a tiny island paradise, pristine except for your cottage and its grounds!” Equemev commented as she and Silaran entered from one of the double doors, their shoes no louder on the stone than many of the boot heels of some of the humanoid guests.
“Notwithstanding the inside of the crater that is.” Silaran added. “But then, that can’t be seen from the rest of the island, unless one is flying quite high.”
“Hi, Silaran, Equemev.” Talia called as they approached, the seafloor of the illusion at their ankles. “I take it our red and silver friends are following this as well?”
“We are, from inside the crater.” Povon psionicly informed them. “We were smart enough to secure unobstructed views while it was still possible to do so!”
“Pardon me?” Mark asked.
“It’s time to move on to our next activity, before Povon gives away the sur
prise!” Talia laughed, and she addressed the gathering as she and Mark dismissed the Illusion. “Please follow me, if you would. We’ll take the Plane door to the crater floor.”
As they approached it, a sentry of the Atoning in a white and gold uniform closed the Plane door, reset the sapphire to the address of the crater floor, re-opened it, and preceded them through into bright early afternoon sunshine.
They emerged from a freestanding marble doorframe on a flat-topped hillock beside the small lake, close to the center of the floor of the bowl. Every inch of space on the white marble balconies that rose one row above another up the bowl’s steeply sloping wall was covered with people of every race, as was much of the parkland around them. The lake was full of selkies, and all the way around the crater’s rim high above, hundreds of dragons perched shoulder to shoulder.
As Mark and Talia came out the door, the huge bowl resonated and shook with the cheering and applause of all those assembled, and the ring of dragons above supplied fire and smoke with their roars of approval. Mark and Talia smiled and waved all around as they moved away from the door to clear space for those who followed.
“We are over here!” Kragorram called and waved, his great voice unmistakable above the gradually-quieting roar of the crowd, and Mark waved back. Kragorram and Povon were ensconced on the patio before one of the dragon-sized pairs of doors on the lowest level of the wall, surrounded by half the Volunteers and a quarter of the Atoning. Equemev and Silaran trotted over to join them.
Once everyone had emerged from the throne room, Gorsh approached Mark and Talia and held up his arms for silence. He waited for a few moments while the noise barely faded, then cast a quick mass Speaking to everyone present. It was an impressively casual display of prodigious ability, since Mark estimated that there were over half a million people watching.
“Your attention please.” Gorsh called by voice and spell, and his Speaking was of sufficient power to gain him the silence he desired. Yazadril came and stood beside him as he turned to face Mark and Talia. “Hello Talia. Happy birthday Mark.
“Prince Mark, you see assembled around me some one hundred and twenty male elves, all of whom care deeply for my son Bezedil, or Yazadril’s daughter Dalia, or both.” Gorsh sincerely announced. “We are deeply indebted to you for their lives, which you have saved. As a meager token of our deep feelings of gratitude and joy at their return to us, we have chosen to offer you an event of companionship, celebration, and entertainment, which we have provided by organizing a great tournament in your honor. A great tournament deserves a great audience, so you see here assembled on the balconies and above them, and swimming in the lake, those who worked to build the facilities here, as well as many who are your faculty, students, staff, diplomats, and guests. On the floor of the bowl here, along with our group and yours, are leaders and monarchs of the nations of The Just Alliance, together with the young warriors and spell-casters who have been chosen to represent their nations in the tournament, and their trainers and teachers, who will advise them.
“The greatest tournaments are held in Felion, contested for the crowns of empires, and we went there for their advise on the enterprise. They gave us excellent suggestions on how to proceed, and Empress Emeroth of Verzaclon suggested the format for the tournament that we eventually adopted. She spoke of a conversation that she shared with you just after the founding of The Just Alliance, where it was suggested that it would be nice if all the martial races in The Just Alliance were equally represented in the elite forces of Hilia by two from each race, a mated male and female, as your companions in The Six of Hilia represent the races of dragons and unicorns. I believe that you allowed the possibility that you might form such a unit in the future.
“The idea prompted a great deal of spirited debate on the question of fighting beside one’s closest loved one. Would it be a detriment; the danger to the loved one’s life distracting from effective combat, or a benefit; each couple’s love and close relationship motivating them to fight harder for each other than for any others, and with better co-ordination?
“Perhaps we will shed some light on the question, for today’s tournament will pit young mated couples against other mated couples of their own race, for the completely hypothetical right to represent their race in that non-existent Hilian fighting unit.”
They all shared a bit of a chuckle at that.
“The People of Morning and The Just Draconians know that their races are already well represented in your military by your companions in The Six; mated couples of warriors whose skill is proven, and whose place is guaranteed by their personal friendship and contracted service, so those races will not be represented in this tournament. This is fortunate from an organizational standpoint, since even this arena is far too small for such contests among those mighty peoples!
“Some contestant couples are a warrior and a wizard, each a specialist, but more often they each have some skill in both fields. We have pairs of giants, dwarves, gnomes, gargoyles, and selkies, but there was some question as to how humans and elves should be represented.
“Some said that you two are commanders, and that all of the races should be equally represented among your elite soldiers, and so we will have pairs of humans and elves competing to represent their races.
“Others count you among your forces, and argue that for your races to be equally represented among your elite forces, that is; one of each gender of each race, you should add another couple who are like yourselves in being a human mated with an elf. Though I would never have believed it so common, we actually have eight such couples who are qualified to compete here; six pairs from the empires of Debivin, one from The Stone Islands, and one from Semcel, the port of The Sea People in Kletiuk. Those eight couples will compete amongst themselves.
“For two hours all the competing couples will engage in contests of pure skills that are considered important in the militaries of their races; that is humanoids will compete in archery, swordplay, spellcraft for attack and defense, and so on, while couples of selkies will engage in contests of aquatic combat skills, underwater sabotage, et cetera.
“In the final hour of the tournament, the best four couples from each race will face each other in simulated combat, that is; combat by simulacrums.”
He turned and addressed the delegations. “And now, contestants may proceed to the venue of their first scheduled event. I know you will all compete with great honor. Good fortune to you all.”
He led a round of applause as each race’s contestants and coaches dispersed to the many event sites scattered about the crater floor.
Then he addressed Mark and Talia again, this time without his spell of Speaking. “The contestants arrived here only minutes ago, after completing their warm-ups and final preparations in their own countries, and they have been supplied with the schedule of events. Competition will begin quite shortly.”
He withdrew two small booklets from an inside pocket of his jacket and handed them over. “These are programs, complete with the event schedule, a map of the venues, and the lists of contestants. As scores are posted by each contestant for each skill, they will be listed in the program.
“We’ve planned an efficient route by which to tour the many events, and we would be pleased if you would allow us to conduct you upon such a tour.”
“Thank you Gorsh, and thank you to all of you who’ve helped with all this.” Mark offered as he opened his program.
“It’s a very interesting format you’ve chosen.” Talia commented as a group of the tournament’s organizers began handing out programs to all who wanted them. “Choosing mated couples as contestants, I mean.”
“It is, and I don’t mind telling you that there was an incidental and crucial reason why it was chosen. When we first let it be known that we were planning to hold a tournament in your honor here on Hilia, the response was staggering. Millions of potential contestants inquired into participating, and the sheer logistics of the eve
nt were on the verge of becoming unmanageable. However, out of all the world-class wizards and warriors there are, few are also mated to another of such formidable skill, and can prove to have been so mated for at least six months, which was the criteria we finally settled upon. This allowed us to keep the scale of the event within practical limits.
“Now, this would be an opportune time to order refreshments, should any desire to do so before the events begin. Then we’ll move over to the lakeside for the first event on our tour, the Selkie aquatic emplacement competition.”
That event featured the otter-like contestants leaping from the dock wearing a weighted pack, swimming an underwater obstacle course, attaching their pack securely to an anchored wooden plank with adhesives, and swimming back through the obstacle course to the dock, where their elapsed time was recorded. The water was spelled to be almost perfectly transparent and waveless, and Mark and Talia cheered them all on, fully aware of the deadly effectiveness of the mine-laying techniques that were demonstrated.
Most of the events the gargoyles contested involved flight, and every race except the selkies had at least one such event, so the air in the crater and above it was the site of many impressive displays of skill.
The next two hours passed quickly as they strolled about the parkland, watching the events, enjoying casual and interesting conversation, and meeting some of the contestants and rulers of nations.
At the end of that time, scores were tallied and posted, and the best four couples in each category were announced.
“Cousin Dren and his mate made the semi-finals, and I didn’t even realize he was competing!” Mark noticed. “They placed third! I take it that he avoided saying that this was the tournament he was looking forward to attending, in order to not spoil the surprise of it.”
“That’s so.” his grandmother nodded. “He and his girlfriend Mandri have been dating for about nine months. Still no announcement of an engagement, however. She’s his platoon’s battle wizard, and a fierce little firecracker of a girl as well.”
“Dren didn’t want his relationship to Mark to be known, so as to not affect the objectivity of the judging.” Wittan said. “He and the rest of us from Finitra have carefully avoided mentioning it for that reason, for which he also registered as Dren Finiak, Finiak being his middle name. Now that the judged events are finished, he has revealed his surname.”
“Wise thinking.” Nemia said.
“What is ‘combat by simulacrum?” Tilfi asked.
“Each contestant will be deeply Read by a circle of Shiganzhu Battle Wizards, who are supplying the service and are expert at the spell.” Gorsh explained. “When it is cast upon a contestant, their consciousness will be projected into an exact Illusion of themselves. Their senses will unable to discern that they are not within their own bodies, which will appear to be sleeping. Though the simulacrums and their equipment are Illusions, their blows, missiles and spells affect each other exactly as they would in true combat, and are perceived by the contestants as real, without truly endangering them, or the audience, or the facilities. Even such sensations as fatigue will be faithfully reproduced, and those who can finish their semi-final bouts quickly will have the advantage of being less fatigued in the final, exactly as they would in true combat. They can also use simulacrums of any mundane or magically spelled weapons, items, or armor, provided they truly own such an item and have used it often enough to be completely familiar with it.”
“What a brilliant idea!” Tilfi marveled.
“I cannot help but agree.” Yazadril smiled. “Some of our newest elite soldiers are finding it to be a very useful training tool as well. A very difficult spell though, requiring several Master-class wizards to cast it.”
“Is it to be a simulation, or a game?” Alilia asked.
“How do you mean?” Gorsh replied.
“If it is a simulation, they must behave as if their combat here is real, including being sure that their struggle does not endanger any of the many innocents spectating here. If it is a game, they can take cover behind the crowd, since no one will be endangered by it.”
“Ah. Neither of those is exactly the case.” Gorsh said. “While in the simulacrum, they will not perceive incidental persons, to reduce the complexity of the spell. So far as they will be able to tell, there will be no-one here during the match except their partner and their opponents, though they will perceive the facilities and physical objects, and can use those for cover. The semi-finals will be held in two sets; all the pairs who placed second in the skills competitions will face the third placed pairs simultaneously, and the contestants of each bout will not even perceive those who fight in other bouts right beside them, though we will see them all.
“Then first place finishers will face those who placed fourth in the next semi-final set. Time permitting after that, the final matches will be held sequentially, as each will surely deserve our undivided attention.
“One moment.”
Gorsh cast his mass Speaking again, and held up his hand.
“Congratulations to all of you who have advanced to the final rounds of the tournament. Condolences to those who did not, who have our gratitude for the fine quality of your efforts. Even those with the lowest scores displayed championship skill, and the differences between the highest and lowest aggregate scores was very slight, ranging from an eight percent spread among the Kleti, to only three percent separating first and last among the Bojudai.
“As we conduct the first half of the semi-finals, I ask all of you who are watching to control your natural reactions to the illusory combat that will be taking place all around you. None of it can harm you in the slightest, but it can startle you and block your vision. If a huge illusory fireball explodes around you, for instance, do not let it startle you into misstepping so severely that you fall over your balcony’s railing, which the illusion may be obscuring from your view. If simulacrums fight quite close to you, please move as much as is practical to prevent blocking the view of other spectators.
“Contestants, you may begin when ready.”
A quartet of gnomes immediately appeared in the air above, all marked by the subtle blue glow that was commonly used to indicate spellcraft to observers, flying with the agility of sparrows, spells flashing and blasting and crackling. Their appearance was greeted by a huge roar of cheering and exclamation from the audience.
Then four dwarves began their combat near the edge of the crater floor, two of them taking cover behind a marble fountain as the other pair took to the air amidst an exchange of arrows and spells. The pair on the ground were passing like ghosts through the spectators, who hurried to get out of their way with a series of outcries.
Then there were combatants in every part of the arena and the air within it as the other six matches commenced. Four of the bouts were over within seconds, and Mark missed most of those while trying to spot his cousin Dren’s match, which he failed to do.
“I’m glad their wounds glow red instead of bleeding.” Bezedil commented as he watched a match among giants that had closed to sword work, blows, and contact spells. “Some of this would be rather gory the other way.”
“To us, their wounds glow red, but to them, they bleed, their guts spill and their bones break.” Gorsh stated, his eyes locked to the same match, since it was taking place within thirty feet. “And their pain is as terrible as it would be from real wounds. Thus it is a true test of their mettle when faced with bloody battle.”
“By the source!” Dalia exclaimed. “Do they fight to the death?”
“To their simulated deaths.” Yazadril chuckled. “Unless they surrender, or are rendered unconscious or otherwise incapacitated. If one of those happen, the simulacrum spell is ended.”
“Don’t look so shocked, my love!” Nemia teased as she hugged Dalia with one arm. “Your sister faced true battle and real blood just this morning. Better for these that theirs is simulated.”
“It was disgusti
ng.” Mark quietly rumbled. “Using GrimFang against those dwarves... Afterward I looked at Talia, and looked down at myself. We were covered in blood and offal like we’d been swimming in it. She spelled us clean a moment later, but I’ll never forget that.”
“I never thought to shield us against splashing blood.” Talia said with a bit of a shudder. “I’ll never make that mistake again.”
One of the male giants was taken out by a poisoning spell and disappeared, and his mate flew into a rage. She charged her opponents with berserker fury and struck them down with four mighty blows of her sword, even as her face was half burnt away by magical fire. Her opponents vanished, and she raised her sword high with an awful scream of rage and pain and victory, then she was gone as well.
Mark was shocked to his core when he, Talia, and most who were close to them were splashed with cool water by a Selkie bearing a short sword who leaped out of the water and onto the shore closest to them in an eruption of spray. A fraction of a second later another followed with another splash, and immediately stabbed the first in the back with a slim barbed lance. The defeated Selkie vanished, and the victor had time to bow in the direction of Mark’s party before his simulacrum ended.
“How do they make the water splash, when they’re not really there?” Mark wondered.
“The interactions of a swimming Selkie with the water are too complex for Shiganzhu wizards to reproduce accurately.” Yazadril informed him. “So they augment the Selkies’ simulacrums with physical reality constructed of shaped Force while they are in the water. Quite clever of them, actually. And of course the wizards have the capacity available to do this because Selkies use the least magic of any race, so reproducing it in the simulacrums is a light load.”
There remained only one bout still being contested. Two gargoyles flew around each other as they jousted with spears, their mates already fallen. For six long and exciting minutes they failed to make a decisive strike, then one forced the other to fly into a balcony railing at high speed, ending the match.
“That was skillfully done.” a man said to Mark’s left.
Mark turned to see that it was his cousin Dren, accompanied by a slim blond girl who lacked only pointed ears to pass for an elf, being just under five feet tall with delicate features and hazel eyes. “There you are! I tried to watch for your match, but I missed it. How did it go?”
“We won.” Dren grinned. “We’re at leisure until the second set of semi-finals is done, so I thought this would be a good time to introduce you. Mandri, I present my cousin Mark and his wife Talia. Mark, Talia, I’m pleased to present my true love Mandri. Since she was almost exclusively responsible for our victory, I’ll let her tell you what happened.”
“It was easy.” Mandri grinned. “I used an invisibility spell on us, and a spell that cloaks magic, so they couldn’t detect us without casting spells specifically to find us. I had ours cast already, just waiting to be triggered by the simulacrum spell. So when our opponents’ simulacrums appeared and they didn’t see us, they assumed for a moment that our simulacrum spells were simply a bit slower in the casting, just as we hoped. We knew we had enough power in our swords to penetrate their Shields if we used hard, fast, straight thrusts, so we just tip-toed over and stabbed them. It was Dren’s idea, so really, he deserves the credit. That kind of thing only works once, and then word gets around about it, but a victory’s a victory.”
“Well congratulations!” Mark told her as he carefully shook her tiny hand. “Would those be Ashrab’s Amazing Aura of Invisibility, and Poshta’s Power Cloak? We just learned those from Emperor Osbald a few minutes ago.”
“Yes they would, actually!”
“Human spells have the most interesting names, by far.” Mark chuckled. “The basic elven illusion spell is simply called Illusion, but it’s human counterpart is called Boffrin’s Befuddling Visual Deception. Quite a different mindset to them as well, compared to elven spells. Funny that I know a great deal of elven magic of both kinds, a few draconian spells, even the unicorn version of Movement, yet I didn’t know any human spells until just a couple of hours ago, and I still haven’t cast any of them yet.”
“You’ve had a unique education.” Mandri told him admiringly. “And a shockingly quick one, from what I know of it. I’ve seen the Revealing of your battle this morning, and that was some amazing work.”
“Thank you.” Mark nodded.
“The second set of semi-finals is about to begin.” Gorsh told them.
A moment later all eight bouts started simultaneously, and the crowd roared anew. These matches were finished even faster than the first set, for only the gnomes’ match lasted longer than eight seconds, and it was done in less than a minute.
“As I expected.” Dren nodded, checking the results in his program. “Five of the eight teams who came second at the skills defeated their third-placed opponents, but all eight couples who placed first were victorious over those who finished fourth. Only the gnome pair had trouble with it, reflecting the closeness of their scores.”
“We have to go.” Mandri said. “The final matches will begin soon.”
“Good fortune.” Talia smiled as she exchanged handclasps and polite kisses on the cheek with the girl.
“They might need it.” the elder Mark commented with a worried look when the two were out of earshot. “The two they face are with a Thon division known as The Fist of The Empire. It’s a reward posting for the best they’ve got, and they’re under the direct command of Osbald himself. They’ll know as many elvish spells as human, and I doubt Dren and Mandri are very familiar with those. They’ll make a good fight of it either way, that’s certain.”
“It is time.” Gorsh stated, and cast his Speaking.
“It is now time to decide the victors of this tournament, which has truly been eight tournaments.” he announced. “The order of the final matches was decided by the total elapsed times of the semi-final matches. The two couples of the Kwetkerthok required the most combined time to achieve their semi-final victories, and they will face each other in the first final match. The pairs of elves had the quickest victories, and they will be rewarded for this by having the most time to study their opponents and to plan tactics, since their match will be the last one to be contested. All of the final matches will begin at the center of the arena except the Selkie final, which will begin at the end of the dock. There will be a one-minute interval between each match.
“Finalists of the Kwetkerthok, take your places.”
A space a hundred feet wide had been cleared at the center of the crater floor, and on either side of that stood a circle of giant wizards. A pair of gargoyles sat cross-legged on the grass within each circle of giants, and nodded their readiness.
“Begin!” Gorsh called, and the gargoyles slumped into unconsciousness as their illusory selves appeared in the clearing, and the huge crowd of spectators roared louder than ever.
One pair immediately leaped into flight, but the other held their ground and threw magically accelerated war darts as fast as they could pull them out of their packs, and the two flyers were shot down before they’d gained ten feet of air.
The gnomes’ final followed, and both pairs of small folk shot into the air as soon as it began and charged one another at high speed as they launched a barrage of spells. The female of one pair was killed by a Concussion as both members of the other team were wounded by Force bolts, then the felled female’s mate slammed into his weakened opponents in mid-air, breaking one’s neck with a kick while stabbing the other in the torso with a slim dagger he wielded like a saber. That stab wasn’t lethal, but the next one finished the match an instant later.
The Selkies were next, and as they took their places within the circles of wizards, Yazadril commented on their upcoming match.
“The larger pair are the better fighters, and will try to keep the contest on the dock. The smaller two are better swimmers, and will strive to bring the fig
ht into the water.”
As he predicted, the smaller pair leaped off the dock immediately, but the female was spitted by a thrown javelin before she struck the water. Her mate’s slight edge in aquatic agility was not enough to prevent him from being overwhelmed by the larger pair when they caught him at the bottom of the lake and attacked him with short swords. When he disappeared they had time to shoot to the surface and leap clear of the water in matching graceful arcs, and their simulacrums ended just before they would have entered the water again.
The two couples in the giants’ final exchanged spectacular barrages as soon as they appeared. On one side the female cast spells in quick succession, while the male shot six-foot arrows from his giant longbow, and the arrows exploded on impact with shocking loudness. Both members of the other team cast spells, but their Shields were soon overwhelmed and an explosive arrow sent them both careening wildly through the air, to land crumpled and defeated.
When the dwarves’ final began, one couple took to the air, and the female cast Firebolt spells while the male threw javelins that impacted with a loud crackle and a bright momentary arc of electricity. The other pair remained on the ground and on the defensive as the female Shielded against the Firebolts, and the male skillfully deflected the javelins with two small steel shields strapped to his fore-arms, oblivious to their crackling discharge. When the javelin thrower had cast all six of his missiles, the male on the ground brandished his axe and yelled defiantly at the pair in the air.
“Does anyone know what he’s saying?” Mark asked.
Yazadril answered. “He says; ‘We fear not your magic! If you wish to defeat us, you will have to come down here and taste my axe!’ His mate appears to be a defensive specialist, and she could likely hold that Shield for a week.”
The pair in the air made a diving attack, the female bracing her spear as the male drew a spiked war-hammer, but as they closed with their opponents they ran into a wall of invisible Force, crumpling and injuring them both, and the axe-wielder dispatched them with two quick swings.
When the human finalists took their places, the tension among Mark’s family increased noticeably as their eyes followed Dren and Mandri into their circle.
Their fight lasted only an instant, for almost as soon as the contestants appeared in the clearing, Mandri felled her male opponent with an intense beam of power that gave off violet light, then she and Dren vanished. Even as her female opponent was raising her arms in victory, Mandri came out of the simulacrum spell cursing loud enough to be heard all over the arena, though she ceased her tirade when Dren wrapped her in a consoling hug.
“What happened?” Wittan asked. “Did anyone see why they lost?”
“I will check.” Gorsh said, and cast a quick Speaking to the senior Shiganzhu Battle Wizard.
“Dren and Mandri were felled by a spell known as Karbak’s Needle, by which the caster’s entire reserve of available power can be cast as fast-moving Force that is concentrated on an area no larger than the cross-section of a hair. As the name implies, this virtual needle of Force is able to penetrate most shielding both magic and mundane, and upon reaching the soft interior of the body of the foe, it expands to sufficient diameter to inflict fatal damage. A very difficult spell to cast, but even more difficult to defend against.”
“I see.” Wittan nodded, his disappointment for his son evident on his face.
“Here’s an interesting match up!” Alilia commented as the mixed couples of an elf and a human took their places. “I know of the two elves, and in both cases I’m very surprised to see that their mates are human! That dark-haired fellow is Dulyamil, the leader of the elven criminals of the plains of Debivin! I suppose he must have reformed himself and sworn Osbald’s Oath, or he’d never have made it past the Wards, or Relgemit’s security forces for that matter.”
Dulyamil was the heftiest elf Mark had seen. At five and a half feet tall, he must have weighed one hundred and seventy-five pounds, most of it in the form of hard and well-shaped muscle. His human mate likely weighed the same, as she was over six feet tall, and looked as fit as anyone Mark had ever seen. She had her long light-red hair tied back in a ponytail, and both of them wore simple sleeveless white tunics, though that was no indication of how they might choose to be clad as simulacrums.
“You may recognize the female on the other team, though she looks much different in her armor.” Alilia continued. “She is Vinya, daughter of Prince Binyacim of The Stone Islands, and she was chosen as one of your bridesmaids for being one of the most powerful wizards of the elven race. As for her mate, if I had not been told he was human I would assume he was an elf. He must be less than five feet tall and lighter than Bezedil, and with his helmet over his ears, who could tell?”
The match began, and was spectacular. It was very apparent that far more magic was cast in this final than in any preceding bout. All four were obviously expert and powerful wizards, and all four used short range Translocations, something that had not been done in previous matches. The maelstrom was impossible to follow as it happened, a storm of fire and thunder, heat and cold, light and lightning, cast from and toward every corner of the arena. The din of battle ended twenty-three seconds later, and when the smoke had cleared, the simulacrums of Vinya and her mate were gone, while Dulyamil and his mate stood unscathed and victorious. Surprisingly, their simulacrums were wearing no more than the white tunics they’d dressed their physical selves in.
Like most of those around him, Mark couldn’t help but cheer and applaud their triumph a bit more enthusiastically than he had some of the others. “Wow! That was really something!”
“I’ll say! My ears are still ringing!” Talia laughingly agreed as she rubbed an ear.
“The winners never took a scratch in all that!” Nemia enthused. “I’d never have believed that if I hadn’t seen it!”
The enthusiastic recounting of what each person had seen happening in that match continued until the contestants in the last match took their places within the circles of Shiganzhu wizards. The elven final featured two pale sandy-haired mountain elves of The Lava Shapers of Xervia, versus two dark tropical elves from The People of Rain in Felion.
Theirs was the strangest match of the day. The four simulacrums appeared, one couple on each side of the central clearing, and initially none of them did anything at all. They stood absolutely still beyond a slow turning of their heads from side to side, their eyes closed.
Dren and Mandri rejoined them then, and Mandri noticed the puzzlement on Mark’s face, so she explained what was happening. “Both pairs have done what we did in our semi-final, and made themselves as undetectable as possible. And you can bet those elves are even better at it than I was. Of course we can still see them, since they’re only simulacrums. Now it’s a chess match. They could cast powerful spells to detect the other team, but those spells would themselves be detected as they were cast. Likewise if they use too much power to hide themselves. So it’s a contest of subtleties. The less power they expend, the less likely they are to be detected, but the harder it is to detect the other team.”
Then the tropical female opened her eyes and cast a Fireball directly across the clearing. The two Lava Shapers quickly turned their backs to it while crouching, hunching, and covering their faces with their arms. They were caught in the edge of the blast, their backs began glowing bright red, and they shuddered and squirmed a bit from the pain they were feeling, which must have been intense.
“Those two Xervians are in trouble.” Alilia pronounced. “I think their attacker was just guessing that they would have appeared directly across the clearing, but it was a good guess. Thus she cast Fireball, which is slow for an attack spell but affects a large area. Now, she is correctly gambling that she has scored, and she and her partner are putting more power into their search.
“If the Xervians make so much as a peep, or any large sudden movements, they will quickly be detected and defeated, but they are
displaying formidable determination and self-control. It required incredible discipline to not flee the Fireball by magical means, or to Shield against it, which would have betrayed their position. They must be suffering from a great deal of pain, but if they can remain silent and still long enough to Heal sufficiently to make a strike, they have a chance. The Rain pair are showing a moderate amount of power, and they have failed to move from the location they cast the fireball from.
The tableau held for over a minute, during which the crowd yelled and cheered and called instructions to their favorites, none of which was audible to the contestants. Then the pair from the People of Rain slowly rose a few inches clear of the grass, and gently drifted to their left.
“A smart move.” Yazadril commented. “The power use of that minor Levitation would be hard to find behind the detection and hiding spells they’re casting. Certainly less detectable than leaving footprints in the grass. And the Xervians appear half-healed already.”
He’d no sooner finished speaking when the pair who’d been burned suddenly turned and straightened and cast a spell that showed as an expanding cone of pink light, targeting the point of origin of the fireball. Their targets had only drifted four feet from that position, and the pink spell was almost instantaneously effective, allowing no time to make a response, as well as being twenty feet wide when it reached them. The Felion elves were consumed by it, and their simulacrums ended.
The crowd erupted as the tension of the match was released.
“That was bravely won!” Mark called as he added his applause to the rest as the victors shakily rose and bowed to the crowd in each of the cardinal directions.
Gorsh let the noise gradually diminish before he again raised his arms and cast his Speaking. “Congratulations, to all our winners! We will conduct an awards ceremony in a few minutes, and…”
“One moment.” Dulyamil called as he and his mate approached, having cast his own Speaking so that he was heard by all.
“What can we do for you, former Prince of Thieves?” Yazadril drolly asked.
“We have yet to determine an answer to the question of whether it would be better for Hilia to recruit a pair of elves and a pair of humans, or whether Prince Mark and Princess Talia would be better served by maintaining a more perfect racial balance among their forces by recruiting another mixed-race pair such as themselves. Meri and I believe the latter to be the case, and to demonstrate the truth of our conviction, we propose to challenge the winners of the human and elven competitions. Simultaneously.”
“You two would fight all four of them at once?!” Mark asked in surprise.
“Exactly, your majesty.” The muscular elf grinned cockily and bowed again.
“Well first of all, this entire racial balance issue is a bit moot, since after today, I have to consider all the elves under my command to be as elite as warriors as I am.” Mark grinned in return. “If anyone thinks the spells they cast half-way around the world were any easier work than what I did, they’re wrong. And we’re not in a position to recruit sixteen hundred and eighty-one fighters from each race in order to achieve racial balance in our forces. But since this is all hypothetical anyway, if they’re willing to accept your challenge, I’ll admit I’m curious to see how it goes.”
By this time the human couple from Thon and the Lava Shaper elves had made their way over.
“You’ll have to pardon my saying,” the human male abruptly addressed Dulyamil, “But your win in your final didn’t appear exactly effortless! What makes you think you can beat us and these fine elves as well?!”
“We were holding back, that the contest would be challenging.” Dulyamil casually admitted. “Thus we fought with no weapon, armor, or spelled item, instead relying on our wizardry alone, though our opponents were brave, skilled, powerful, and equipped with a small arsenal.”
“Bah! There is no motivation for us to accept your challenge!” the female elven champion declared. “If you lose, we gain no honor or pride from a victory where we outnumber you two to one! And if you should somehow win, we are humiliated as we could never be by a loss in an even contest!”
“We will wager our unquestioning service for a year, and our entire worth, which presently equals just over one billion gold Kuth Nikmarks in funds, properties and enterprises, against nothing more than your pride and honor.” Meri coolly stated.
Dulyamil glanced up at his tall blond mate with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile of surprise, then nodded in agreement. “Of course. One would think that to be sufficient motivation to accept our challenge.”
“We don’t need more wealth than we have, nor am I certain I’d wish to associate with you, even to the extent of directing you in our service.” the Thon woman declared. “On the other hand, I’d like to beat your silly ass, just to remove your smug expression. And meaning no offense to these fine elves, but we won’t need their help to do it. We’ll accept your challenge on an even basis, and you can keep your service and worth.”
“Ah. This is not going as I’d hoped.” Dulyamil said as he lost his smile, and bowed respectfully to the woman. “It is not our intent to offend you, or to disrespect you in any manner. And I’ll admit that the point of Hilian military racial equality is merely an excuse. We merely hope to prove our full worth as warriors by this exercise, and to demonstrate a few of the more impressive tools we own. We do this to convince our hosts of our value, for we truly do hope that they will acquiesce to our request to join their ranks. All four of you are fine people and great warriors, whom we would be glad to have at our backs in any battle, but if we strive against you with our utmost effort and all of our available resources, you will need to co-operate as a quartet while fighting at the limits of your skill and power in order to have an even chance of defeating us.”
“Well that’s some sweet talk, but your girlfriend here sure looks like she’s taking it a damn sight more personally than that!”
“I apologize.” Meri gritted. “I have anger, but it is not directed at you. We have been insulted by those who have said that our category was an easy one, since only eight couples entered. It has been insinuated that we are therefore less worthy of respect than the winners of the other competitions. Dulyamil is not bothered by this, but I am of a more sensitive type, though I do share his motivations in this as well. A week ago I’d have repaid those critics with a few well-placed bruises, but we’ve since sworn the vow of justice, so now I must be content with silencing them with a decisive victory in this challenge.” She held up her hand, showing her rings. “And I am Dulyamil’s wife. I am not his girlfriend.” she finished with a frosty glare.
“Now hold on here, let’s keep things civil.” Mark rumbled as the Thonian drew breath for a retort. “Yazadril, what do you think? Is all as it seems, and do these two really have a chance against the other four at once?”
Yazadril hummed an intricate series of notes for five seconds as he took a fairly quick Reading of all six potential contestants. “They speak the truth, concerning both their motivations and their prowess. They feel no disrespect for these four, beyond Meri being a bit miffed at that girlfriend remark. And in my opinion, which is as qualified as any, they are correct in their estimation of the outcome. The four would need to fight hard and co-operatively to have an even chance of victory, and if they achieve it, none would dare say that it was not a worthy challenge to do so.”
“Well there you have it.” Mark nodded. “Now that that’s established, there’s no need for the challenge. I want you all to know that this has been great fun, I’ve enjoyed every minute of this tournament. And before we proceed with the awards ceremony, I’ll have you know that we have room in our military for sixty-four more fighters at least. If any of the couples who were semi-finalists or finalists wish to join our forces, we’d be delighted to have such excellent additions to our ranks, and you can report to Commander Relgemit after the awards ceremony. Provided you have permission to do so f
rom your present commanding officers of course, if you’re presently serving elsewhere. I don’t know if we have positions available for any other contestants who didn’t make the semis, but if any of the rest of you would like to join, please inquire tomorrow with First Minister Sheramiv.
“Now why don’t you six exchange some mutual congratulations at your success, and we’ll move on to the celebrating part of the tournament!”
Dulyamil and Meri looked disappointed at being unable to further display their prowess, until Talia remarked to them; “For a real challenge, remember that you’re in the Hilian forces now. We’ll see how you do in training exercises against Kragorram and Povon in the days ahead.”
Meri’s eyebrows rose, and she turned to her husband with a bit of a smile. “My love, I believe we have been successfully rebuked.”
“Yes. Perhaps we have been a bit arrogant, when looked at in that light.” he agreed with a sheepish grin.
“Well, I apologize for the girlfriend remark.” their antagonist said as she offered her hand. “And congratulations on your win and your recruitment.”
“Thank you!”
Mark was distracted from that by Gorsh, who opened the case he was handed by another elf as he announced; “The trophies.” and displayed sixteen gold badges in the form of the sword-star of Hilia, nestled on dark blue silk. “Each engraved on the reverse with the names and nations of the champions, as well as the particulars of their victory at this tournament.
“Would you care to make the presentations, Your Majesty?”
“Certainly, if Her Majesty will join me in doing so?” he asked of Talia.
“Certainly!” she laughed as she took his hand and kissed it.
“Aren’t I supposed to do that?” he chuckled.
“You are, and so am I.” she giggled.
“I will remember that.” he nodded and grinned as he kissed her hand in return.
Most of the hillock was cleared for the presentations, and Gorsh called for the winners of the Kwetkerthok competition to attend.
As that pair slowly flew over, grinning wide enough to reveal all of their stony gray teeth and waving to the cheering crowd, Mark asked of Gorsh; “Do we just hand these to them, or are we supposed to pin them on somehow?”
“I suggest you hand them, so that they may admire the design and read the back. If they wish to wear them upon their chest, they can be pressed on, and the back of the medal will adhere to them.”
The two gargoyles landed and bowed ornately with sweeping swirls of their wings. As they were handed their awards, the monarchs of Hilia bowed to them, and smiled, and offered their congratulations, as the crowd roared their approval. “Thank you Your Majesties.” The female offered for both of them, and they politely backed up four paces before turning and flying back to their places.
The eight pairs of awards were soon distributed to the champions, and then Gorsh addressed the assembly one last time.
“Thus ends our tournament, held in honor of Prince Mark. We hope that all have enjoyed the amazing displays of ability as much as we have. To you of our audience, thank you for attending. To you who participated, thank you for competing.”
“Yes, thank you so much!” Mark grinned as he and Talia waved all around.
Finally people began to leave, while many on the balconies came down to the floor of the bowl to join the dancing, carousing and celebrating that was beginning there.
“Gorsh, Yazadril, all of you beloved of Dalia and Bezedil, I am indeed honored by the wondrous event you’ve produced.” Mark told them sincerely. “As I’ve said, I really enjoyed it, it’s been as much fun as pretty much anything I’ve done, and I’ve really enjoyed your company as well. As a way of saying thanks for Dalia and Bezedil’s well being, I couldn’t think of a better one. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” Gorsh smiled.
“Still, I bet it wasn’t as much fun as the thanks the girls give you!” Bezedil chuckled, and many joined his humor as Mark blushed bright red.
“A small party of us are off to Focus Mountain, to see the new facilities there.” Talia announced. “We’ll meet the rest of you out by the cottage in a few minutes. Bye for now.”
With that, she triggered a co-operative group Translocation, and they appeared in the late afternoon sun, high above the blue bowl, which Mark immediately realized was now a perfectly smooth and symmetrical concave lens.
He took over his own Levitation from Talia and drifted over a few yards, seeking the focus by feel.
“Careful!” Grakonexikaldoron sharply cautioned, just as Mark yelled.
“AH! Damn!” he exclaimed as he suddenly backed up. “That’s intense!”
“We thought it might be.” she nodded, with a gravely snicker. “Here is a spell that should allow you to see the raw form of your power.”
“Thanks.” he nodded as he and Talia considered the spell for a moment, then Mark cast it. Suddenly he could see the sunlight as bright blue, and he could see the more intense blue light reflected from the bowl like two sections of cones with their points touching at the focus, where it was so bright it was hard to look at.
“We suggest you start in the narrow part of the upper cone of light, and explore moving toward the focus with great caution, for it is now tightly focused indeed!”
“Please postpone that.” Somonik requested, and Mark saw that the ancient white was sporting a new sword, one almost as impressive as Kragorram’s. “We are gathered, all who were present when the gods spoke to us except the Eldest, and we can speak freely here. We meet to share what has been learned during our researches into the nature of divinity. We should be quick about it, if we may.”
“It can be stated pretty simply.” Dalia said, a bit cautious in speaking before the group. “What little the sources all agree on that is, so we can trust it with fair certainty, such as it is.
“The process of becoming a god comes in waves of power and understanding. It can start with either one, but a candidate, that is anyone with the potential to do this, will reach a crucial understanding or gain a crucial power. It is never the same; each god finds their own first power or first great understanding. It can take a very long time to find that first crucial trigger, or it can happen suddenly by accident. Then one leads to the other in accelerating waves. That is, the crucial understanding is knowing how to gather power, and the crucial power is used to gather more information, knowledge, and understanding, which leads to more power, which leads to more understanding, over and over, faster and faster, until suddenly you’re a god. And that’s it. Sorry if I didn’t phrase it that eloquently. I’d have done better in Elvish.”
“You have imparted the knowledge with clarity. Thank you.” Somonik told her kindly. “I must go and attend to my schedule. I caution you again, speak of this only with each other, and guard your words and thoughts. If we do discover the secret of gaining divinity, we may not wish it to be widely known. We will speak again at the meeting of The Just Alliance in a few hours.
“Before I go, I will say; happy birthday, Mark. Your group was brilliant in battle today. Farewell till later.” he concluded, and then he was gone, as was Tithian, with a quick and wordless psionic farewell.
There was a moment of silence.
“Well Gran, I have to thank you for this wonderful work here.” Mark said as he slowly rose twenty feet, then drifted into the cone of blue light. “Even here it’s far more intense than the focus used to be, and I’m twenty feet above it!”
“Excellent.” The gold dragon nodded, lazily waving her wings against the breeze. “We would very much like you to return here when it is night. You may be able to detect which stars are sources of magic, by their reflection in the bowl. Meantime, when you have refreshed yourself in the reflection, we will see the new installation on the north rim.”
Mark ever so slowly descended toward the focus, coming within eight feet of it over the next minute before the sudden sweat on his
brow warned him that he was becoming saturated.
“That is really intense!” he stated as he flew to the side, out of the reflection. “When you get that close to the focus, you lose the pleasurable aspect of the sensation, like a nice hot bath that gets too hot. Or rather I do, I guess.”
“As we suspected. Such is also the case for us, when using reflectors to concentrate the Source of conventional magic.”
“Let’s take a quick look at the new building and go back.” Talia proposed. “Mark’s youngest relatives will be ready to fall asleep at any time, and their parents will want to take them home to bed soon.”
“Ah. That being the case, why not save seeing the facility here for another day?” Gran proposed. “You’ve already seen monumental unveilings today, including the finished reflector, and there’s a great deal to see in the installation.”
“I’ll go with that plan, I think.” Mark nodded. “Are you all coming back to Hilia for the rest of my birthday party?”
“We are.”
“Well then, I guess we’re off!”
“We’ll get the transport this time.” Yazadril offered, and he and Nemia together cast the group’s Translocation.
They arrived in the air above the largest of the cottage’s lawns and then landed on it, a location chosen to allow all of them to gather around and speak together, including the dragons, which would have been difficult on the patio. Mark’s family rose from the patio and ambled down to join them as a few of the Atoning Levitated the light tables and chairs along behind them.
Mark grinned to see his Finitran family fully mingled with his new family and most of his new friends.
“So by the way, Mark, Talia.” Yazadril opened as they all settled comfortably. “I have a few quick questions from an Inspector Rayn that I’d like to pass on, if I may.”
“Sure.”
“He’s sure you only cast one spell of Speaking before you went to Kletiuk to fight, and that was to Overlord Senchak. How then did you plan the battle with the others here of the Six and your elven Battle Wizards?”
Most of the Volunteers preened with pride at being called Battle Wizards by him.
“You don’t have to cast a Speaking to talk with Povon.” Mark grinned. “You just have to think real hard about her and her name, and she hears you. Then we all Linked through her.”
“I certainly hear it when it’s you two and Ria doing the calling as a Linked trio!” Povon chortled.
“I see.” Yazadril smiled. “And some experienced spell casters have stated that you could not possibly have cast as many spells as you did during the second wave’s attack, considering the short duration of time involved and the sword work you were performing simultaneously.”
“True. I cast some, the blessing we’ve made from the curse cast some automatically, of course Ria was casting a lot and I may have been mistakenly given credit for some of those, and contrary to comments I’ve heard about the dwarves’ analysis of the battle, Talia and the elves here did more than provide defense, they cast some attack spells too.”
“I see. And finally, having discovered such innovative and effective tactics, why did you decide to allow the release of such a detailed analysis as the Kleti Revealing to the public, knowing that your enemies are likely to be studying it closely?”
“Ah. Well, the Kleti analysis was accurate about the gist of events, but it only identified the most common of the spells we used, and it was wrong about enough of the details to be of limited use to the enemy. And as far as our military potential is concerned, what we did today was our baby steps. I doubt we’ll do much of that again. We’ll have far more effective tactics next time.”
“Perhaps. You certainly broke new ground with your baby steps. Fighting as such a deeply Linked unit is new, as is anticipating your enemies’ Translocations.”
“Well, we will do those again, but they’re hard to copy or counteract, and they were both obvious to any observer anyway.”
“True.”
“Perhaps you’d do me a favor in return, Yazadril?”
“Oh? What is it?”
“I’m becoming very fond of all the elves who’ve been helping us, including the Atoning. Among other things that have brought us together, we were all in each other’s minds today as we fought for our lives, and that’s a special bond. I think what the Atoning did to me at our wedding was a safety violation, not a crime, since they intended no harm, and what happened was not what they intended. I think that their vow of lifelong service to me is far more atonement than they deserve, especially considering what lifelong service can be with an elven life span. Yet they have the unknown eventual judgment of The Council of The High People hanging over them like a sword above their necks.
“I’m asking you and The Council of The High People to end the threat against my people, by showing mercy or by any other means you might consider. In any case and however they may judge, I ask that a decision be made quickly, not only as a mercy in itself, but so that my staff are no longer distracted by this possible impending doom. I ask this as a friend to you and to The High People, and to the Atoning, who are my people. I also ask it as Prince of Hilia, but I want it clearly understood that I do not ask it as Key to The Just Alliance, nor even suggest it as such. This is a matter between us, and doesn’t involve the alliance.”
“I also ask this, most sincerely and humbly,” Talia added, “As a person who appeals to the goodness in the hearts of The High People’s council, and as Princess of Hilia.”
“I see.” Yazadril nodded thoughtfully. “And I agree with you, and I will tell them so, in addition to conveying your words verbatim. Though I am not one of those charged with deciding the case, since I am too close to it. One moment.”
He effortlessly cast a multiple Speaking around the world to The Nine Valleys, and ended it a few seconds later. “They’ll get back to me shortly. A few had gone to bed already.” he snickered.
“I must say that your request is wise rulership.” he continued. “As was preventing that uneven challenge earlier. It was unlikely that it could have gone ahead without resulting in hurt feelings at the very least.”
“That’s what I thought.” Mark nodded.
“We should have won that damn match!” Mandri suddenly stated.
“Oh? How so?” Talia asked.
“I blasted the wrong one out of nervousness, like an amateur!” Mandri revealed in exasperation. “I was supposed to blast the woman, who’s their primary wizard! My bolt was a lot faster than her needle spell, and if I’d taken her instead of her husband, we’d have beaten him easily after that!”
“My condolences.” Talia smiled. “I’m sure we all make fewer such mistakes as we gain more experience.”
“I know, and I appreciate your saying, but it still frustrates the socks off me!”
“Are you one of those who’d like to fight for Hilia?”
“No thank you! I mean I’m sure it’d be great, and this would be a wonderful place to live, but we could never give up our life in Finitra, or the closeness of our families and our friends in our platoon.”
“Of course.” Talia smiled. “I’d never have moved away from The Nine Valleys if I couldn’t Translocate back there at any moment.”
“The Council of The High People has reached a decision.” Yazadril announced.
“Just a moment Yazadril.” Mark asked. “Sheramiv, gather the Atoning. I’m sure they’ll all want to hear this.”
In less than a minute over fifteen hundred of them had arrived, half via the Plane door at the edge of the patio.
“All of the Atoning who will attend are here.” Sheramiv announced. “The rest are listening via my Speaking.”
“In the matter of those who cast Compulsion upon Markhan Reginus Longstrider the Fifth within Laylas chapel four days ago. You all stand convicted of gross negligence and misuse of wizardry, as well as being publicly forsworn of your vow of invitation to the wedding. You ar
e hereby remanded for sentencing to the custody of Prince Mark of Hilia, may his judgment be merciful upon you. Beyond that, you are forgiven by The High People and their governing Council, at Prince Mark and Princess Talia’s request, and in their honor.”
“And I judge that you’re completely free and forgiven.” Mark stated. “I know that doesn’t release you from your vow of service, but you made a mistake and it’s over now. Let none cast any further aspersions on your characters and reputations over this matter. Let it be behind you, and from now on, hold your heads high as Hilia’s finest, which you fully deserve to do, because you’ve earned it. You will no longer be known as the Atoning, from now on you’ll be called The Atoned.”
The Volunteers cheered these announcements, while the Atoned mostly cried happily and hugged each other. Some came forward to offer thanks to Mark, a tearful Sheramiv first among them.
“Thank you, Father.” Talia quietly said as she hugged him. “This means a lot to us.”
“Like I said, it’s wise rulership.” he shrugged. “On both our parts, for that matter.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Strange that Hilia already has many times the population of The Nine Valleys. Mind you, we are allowing more immigration now, so our population will grow, if not by the leaps and bounds yours has here. Things are changing so quickly. When I think of the mistrust I held for humans five or six days ago, I can only shake my head in chagrin.”
“Your concept of justice will now be that of Falgaroth.” Grakonexikaldoron quietly rumbled, quoting Somonik. “That makes all the difference, doesn’t it? Many of us who’ve sworn to justice recently have had to realize that previously we were not as just-minded as we believed.”
There was thoughtful agreement with her sentiment, then Holanam handed Mark a harp and asked that he play and sing the song he’d sung at his wedding.
“Well if you think I should, I’m sure it’ll be good luck for me to do so!” Mark laughed as he took the harp and seated himself on an available chair, and began warming up his fingers with some quiet scales exercises. “By the way Holanam, I’ve been wondering as a matter of academic interest in the effectiveness of your powers, what were you and the others of The Unthinking Impulsives doing during the failed assassination attempt at Winghoof the day before yesterday?”
“We were still in the Palace in Thon. We’d chosen to tarry awhile in an unused staff quarters.”
“I’ll bet you were fornicating!” Talia laughed, prompting a wave of laughter all around, especially among the humans.
“Actually, we were doing exactly that.” Holanam sheepishly admitted, to even more laughter. “But we were in the Link today with the rest of the sworn Hilian elves.”
“I know, and it was wonderful to have you there with us, lending your power and sharing our risk.” Talia smiled.
“We tried to add our magic luck to the Link too, so we all could share it, but I don’t know if it helped any. Our precognitives tried to help Povon know where the incoming Translocations were going to be as well, and they think they could feel it having an effect.”
“They may have, though if so it was a subtle one.” Povon mused. “Mind you, at times like that even the tiniest advantage can be crucial in saving a comrade’s life, and I’m truly thankful for all of your efforts. I’m becoming very fond of all you elves, my companions at arms in the forces of Hilia. I realized that last night at the gathering for Dalia and Bezedil’s return, and it surprised me a bit, and pleased me as well. Working Linked with all of you today was a wonderful experience, and for a psionic like me, a Link like that never truly ends. I will always be a tiny bit aware of every one of you, your locations and well being, as I am aware of Mark and Talia, Equemev and Silaran. Not nearly as aware as I am of Kragorram, but if any of you are ever truly distressed, I will know it. And as Mark said, if you call to me with concentration, I will hear it passively, without either of us casting a spell.
“It’s funny, I’m not even that close with my own parents, psionicly or socially. I haven’t seen them or spoken to either of them for over two thousand years. Suddenly I’m a bit saddened by that, and feel I should visit them soon.”
“We zhould.” Kragorram rumbled as he gently wrapped his tail around her shoulders. “We zhould vizit my parentz az well. I love you Povon, and if you will agree to marry me, we can announze our betrothal when we vizit. Following the tradition of many fine peoplez, I have made for you a token of my intentionz.”
He opened his hand to her, and suddenly held a dragon-sized gold ring bound in a fine network of titanium for strength, and set with the most massive fire-brilliant cut diamond anyone there had ever seen, not excluding Grakonexikaldoron, though it was small enough against the rest of the ring to seem delicate in appearance. “Will you be my wife, Povon, though it is not a Draconian tradition to marry? I know it iz zoon and zudden, but I love you too much to wait.”
Povon could only gape at him for a moment, then she wrapped herself around him with an embrace that entwined him with all six of her limbs as well as her neck and tail. “Of course I’ll marry you, my love! I love you so much, and I’ve never felt so flattered in my life!” she cried in tearful joy, and everyone there gave them a mighty cheer.
Mark chose that moment to begin his song, augmenting it’s volume enough to be heard by all, and dancing was begun here and there as a few sang along.
“Congratulations!” Nilla offered the happy dragon couple.
“Thanks.” Povon grinned, still hugging her new fiancé for all she was worth.
“I notice the youngest children aren’t here.” Talia remarked. “Are you going to have to take them home to bed soon?”
“No, we bedded them down in the cottage for now, and the elven children with them, whose parents were glad to watch over them all.” Nilla told her with a grin. “We can stay and party for a while.”
And they did, for another two hours.
Halfway through that time, Talia, Nilla, and Sana fetched the birthday presents Mark’s family had brought from Finitra from under the table that had held the feast, and everyone watched while he opened them. They were ordinary items; shirts, breeches, kilts, shoes, a pocket knife, a fishing rod, a small wooden chest, and similar things. Each of them had been handcrafted by one of more of his newly-reunited family, and for that reason he treasured them more than any gold or jewels.
Finally everyone said their farewells and went home, and the humans were assisted in this by volunteers of the Atoned, who accompanied them and supplied Translocation.
Mark’s grandparents were the last to leave, and just before they did, Mark offered his grandfather the position of head of the Military Faculty of the Hilian University.
“Huh. An interesting offer, my lad. I’ll have to think about it.” was the patriarch’s reply.
“We’ll talk to you soon.” Mark promised as his grandmother gave him one last kiss on the cheek, and a few moments later he and Talia were alone.
“Well, I figure we have about four hours to get some sleep before we have to get ready for the meeting of the alliance.” he mused as he swept her up in a hug and carried her to the cottage.
“Or we could get two and a half hours of sleep, and spend ninety minutes with six of the Volunteers, who wish to thank you for my sister’s life as our goddess directed.” Talia giggled. “Remember my six friends who served our dinner at our wedding? It’s their turn, and they’ve agreed to share it. Do you really have the heart to turn them down?”
“No, we wouldn’t want to disappoint those dear lasses, I suppose.” he chuckled as he ducked under the top of the doorframe.
“I’ll let them know.” Talia grinned.
The six giggling and nude elven lasses were already eagerly waiting for them when they reached their bedroom.