* * *
Within the hallowed halls of Ri, the world's first city carved into a mountain, walked a stern-faced woman. Not far away stood a very different kind of hollow mountain. The contrast was an unwelcome reminder of past and, more important, present weaknesses. Without the advantage dragons afforded, the Heights would have fallen long ago. Casta Mett had no love for dragons, but she did appreciate their tactical advantages. The Zjhon were limited to mostly metal, wood, canvas . . . and magic. The last part kept Casta focused. Argus Kind had already assembled the greatest collection of magical artifacts ever known to exist, and sometimes he let her bathe in its power. Other times, he did not. Sent her to find her own replacement, she was allowed naught but the magic she brought into their relationship. Lord Kind said that was itself a kindness since he did not let anyone else retain magic. She was no ordinary soldier. She was Al'Zjhon. She did his bidding, and he needed her to be effective.
Fingering a worn artifact, she once again appreciated the power it granted. Agger, on the other hand, knew nothing of magic. His specialty was tracking people. Her specialty was tracking magic. The two did not always mix well. The boy he and Grunt had taken looked a little odd, with big ears and dark freckles, but not a lick of magic. Identifying other people who can use magic was not among her talents, but she had worked out a simple test using her artifact. When Agger and Grunt presented the boy to Argus, he used a similar test. Holding a sparkling bauble in one hand and Azzakkan's Eye mostly concealed in his other, he watched the boy's eyes. The boy followed the sparkling bauble and never even glanced at the other hand.
"I don't even know why I waste my time," Argus Kind said. "The only thing you two ever brought me was her." He pointed his thumb at Casta. "And my patience with her is wearing thin. Watch her closely. She's withholding information."
Few things were worse than having someone talk about you as if you weren't there, but having the king insinuate she was a traitor put her on more dangerous ground than she had anticipated.
Argus turned and regarded her. "Come on, then. Show me the trinket you've brought me to satisfy my appetite for power."
Again, she was caught off her guard. Fondling the small metal device she'd been holding for that exact purpose, she questioned whether to give it to him or not. He would have her searched, and she had no desire to go through that again. Instead, she essentially admitted her guilt by handing him the mechanical box.
"And let me guess. This won't actually be of any use to me in the war, but it is if great historical value."
It was true. It wasn't her fault not all artifacts were weapons. And magic was magic. The artifact she used to find magic made no distinction based on the purpose of any given artifact, only that it contained a certain amount of power. Such was the mechanical box.
"When the goddess returns to the skies," Casta said. "This machine will tell you how many comets will be in the sky on any given date and the size of the largest."
"I'm certain that will be quite useful in a couple thousand years, but it does me little good. Why did you bring me this?"
"I was drawn to it by the residual power it holds. I thought it would make a good addition to your collection."
"This is war. I need potent magic and a better way of finding it. No more useless trinkets. Bring something or someone useful, or don't come back, any of you."
His words stung. Even though she knew not to expect kindness from him, she had not expected open contempt. Always before she'd held his favor by leading him to fantastic stashes of magical items. Now fewer things remained to be found, and he'd caught on to her turning a single discovery into many smaller ones. Other collections of ancient artifacts were hidden on the Firstland and elsewhere, but Casta Mett had seen how devastating some of those items could be. No matter her ambitions, she did not want anything capable of destroying the world falling into Argus Kind's hands. He was just the kind of egomaniac to destroy the world because he couldn't have everything he wanted.
"Perhaps we should deploy the magic we've already found and put an end to the dragons once and for all," Casta said, despite knowing it was a dangerous subject. It would solve their biggest problem.
Argus Kind looked at her as if she were the greatest fool of all. "We've nearly won the war without using a single magical attack. We've fought fairly, while keeping our greatest weapons in reserve." The madman smiled at her, oozing vileness. "There is only so much magic remaining in this world, you fool. The ancients left us the smallest scraps, and you would have me squander them. When the magic is gone, it's gone. Human life is cheap in comparison."
"Should we dispose of the kid, then?" Agger asked, still gripping the frightened boy's shoulder.
"Not yet," Argus said, and he held the boy in his dark, piercing gaze. The boy shrank before him. "What's your name?"
"Destin Brightwood," the boy answered in little more than a whisper.
"I'm going to ask you a simple question. Don't lie to me, now."
Destin shook his head emphatically.
"Who is the strangest kid at school?"
The boy cocked his head in confusion.
"Someone who sees things others don't or hears things others don't or talks about magic?"
"The strangest kid at school is Aric Brilhelm. He eats glue."
The gathered Al'Zjhon withered under the king's gaze. Casta had not overlooked Deacon Rex's absence. She almost missed his greasy smile. Almost.
Argus turned to Agger and nodded but stopped when the child spoke. "The weirdest kid in town don't go to school, though. He got in too much trouble."
"What's his name?" Argus Kind asked, his voice almost laughably sweet. If the boy knew how many deaths this man was responsible for, he might have fainted.
"Emmet Pickette," the boy said. "He lives in Quarter Yard, in the residential district."
Agger and Grunt exchanged a glance, neither smart enough to know they were being read. Casta shook her head, ashamed these men were called Al'Zjhon. It lessened the honor.
"He said there was magic in the old library and got caught snooping around."
These words might as well have been a whistle.
Argus sat rigid in his chair. "You had this boy and lost him, didn't you?"
"We never actually had him, Your Highness," Agger said.
Argus rubbed his temples.
"We did chase after him, but we . . . uh . . . lost him."
Everyone knew better than to mention certain things around Argus Kind, and the man had a keen sense for when someone was intentionally avoiding saying something.
"How did he get away?" Argus asked, his voice deceptively calm.
Casta worried someone might not leave this meeting alive. There was a chance it would be her.
"By dragon," Agger said, keeping his eyes down.
Howling with rage, Argus Kind unstrapped his mighty axe. In a single, fluid motion, he hefted it and hurled it at Agger's head. The man ducked just in time to avoid decapitation; the wooden bench behind him did not fare so well.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Agger said. Casta had to admit the man had guts. He pulled the axe free and returned it to his king, handle first.
Argus was silent for a long moment. When he did speak, his voice was like rock on stone. "Casta Mett, you will track down this Emmet Pickette and bring him to me."
Already, plans formed in her mind.
"Agger, you and Grunt go along with her and make sure she doesn't kill the kid. If she kills the kid, I'll kill all three of you. Is that clear?"
Several plans were discarded, and new ones formed in Casta Mett's mind. It was a dangerous game. She had little choice but to play it well. Fortunately for her, she didn't like kids.
When Argus Kind stormed from the hall a moment later, relief washed over all of them.
"I can't believe I'm stuck with you again," Agger said after a deep breath. "I'm a tracker and you're a noisemaker."
"Yeah, but I come in handy at times," Grunt said, his gr
in never fading. "Remember the time I took that guy's wrist apart using just these two fingers?" He held two thick, meaty fingers in the air and rubbed them together in a way that made a series of pops. Casta had seen him do it, and the sound of it almost made her sick.
"I guess we're following you," Grunt said, looking at Casta.
"I could do without your help," she said.
"That's 'cause you're gonna kill the little bugger rather than allow yourself to be out of a job," Grunt said.
"And a head," Agger said. "Deacon says you are hiding magic from Lord Kind. Can you imagine if someone else shows up and starts pointing out all the things you've been hiding?"
Everything he said was true. Casta Mett considered going after one such object herself at that moment. It would make short work of her colleagues, and would likely be a match for Lord Kind himself, but she was not quite ready for that. "We leave within the hour," she said.
"Where to?" Agger asked. "I'd like to know how to pack."
Grunt giggled.
"A gift from the gods, capable of overcoming the destroyer, shall fall," she said by rote.
"You're going to chase after myths and legends?" Agger asked, appearing truly astonished.
"What will come will come," Casta said. "Those who seek magic, knowingly or subconsciously, will be drawn there, just as I am. We will see what is myth and what is legend."
"What do you want to do with him?" Grunt asked, pointing at the boy who had been trying to become invisible.
"Killing him is too much like work," Agger said. "Let him do it himself." The man turned the boy around and handed him a small knife. "That's all you get. Now run!"
Grunt growled at the boy and snapped like a chained dog.
Casta Mett didn't care. This wasn't the boy she needed dead.