Keys of Awakening

RAVANAS ( C A L L I N G )

The Third Power of the Arcanum

Ravanas is an Active power.

Having learnt the True name of something, the ability to Call it follows. True Calling is not accomplished using sound alone, it is achieved while the Caller is in a state of oneness with that which is being called – the audible form often manifesting as a chant or a song.

Application: Ravanas can be used to summon creatures or forces to do one’s bidding. Once their True Name is known the Caller resonates with the Name’s vibration and the creature or power so summoned has no choice but to come into form.

(Note: for the summoning of higher beings one cannot use the power of Ravanas)

A practitioner of Ravanas is known as a Caller.

From The Arcanum of Wisdom – Introduction for the Initiate

Illiom had anticipated stepping out into daylight and so was taken aback to find that Iod had set while they had been with the Awoken. The dim outline of the nearby temple lay enshrined against a black, star-studded sky.

Daughter Ciara seemed to have been even more affected than the rest of them by the Awoken’s departure. On the way in she had treated the visitors with friendly respect and had spoken of the Awoken with awe. Now that the Awoken was no more, it seemed to Illiom that Ciara had transferred her devotion to the Chosen.

The reverential way she looked at them, and her deferential behaviour towards them, made Illiom squirm.

When the Daughter opened the outer gate, Tarmel hastened to Illiom’s side, seeking silently to know that all was well. She reassured him with a light touch for they had been gone for longer than they had anticipated.

They were soon mounted and riding back towards the Keep, and all Illiom could think about was her Key. She wanted to look at it, hold it and study it, fathom its mysteries.

She resisted the impulse to pull it out for she did not wish to draw attention to herself. Yet, her longing to hold her Key remained unabated as the party wended their way back towards the Draca’s Palace.

Later, as they were walking through the Keep, a remark from Sereth drew Illiom’s attention.

“What did you make of her comment about … what did she call that thing? A serenstone or something like that …?”

Illiom had no idea what he was talking about.

Scald expressed her thoughts exactly.

“What stone? What are you talking about?”

Sereth’s reply held a note of annoyance.

“Come on, Scald! You were there. Were you not listening? She said that eventually, after we secure all the Keys, we would need to travel west but would have to …”

“She said nothing of the sort,” Scald interrupted.

Sereth eyes opened wide.

“How could you not have heard her say that? She repeated it three times …”

Scald was shaking his head.

“No, what she did say three times was that, when it came down to it, we would have to leap into the mouth of death itself!”

Illiom looked between her two companions in complete confusion.

Sereth was becoming uncharacteristically short-tempered.

“I do not know what cavern you were in,” he said, enunciating each word emphatically, “but in mine, that was not what happened at all.”

“You stupid vagabond!” Scald snapped back. “Nothing of the sort was ever mentioned, I tell you …”

A heavy hand descended upon Scald’s shoulder then and shoved him over to one side, interrupting his outcry. Malco positioned himself between the two men.

“I do not know how many times I have to say this, Scald, but here it is again: shut up and listen.”

He then turned to Sereth.

“You too, Sereth. Something is amiss here, because I did not hear her say either of the things that you are claiming. What I heard was something entirely different …”

Elan was nodding vigorously.

“Yes! Same for me!”

With that, everyone started talking at once. Azulya interrupted them with an imperative edge in her voice.

“Can we stop all this bickering? It is clear that there was more to this encounter than we thought. Argolan, what did you hear?”

The Shieldarm’s eyes scanned their faces before answering.

“I did not hear the Awoken speak at all,” she admitted at last.

Sereth began to laugh softly.

“What is the matter with you?” demanded Scald with a disapproving frown. “This is no laughing matter!”

But his words only fuelled Sereth’s mirth; the levee broke and with a loud splutter, his laughter burst from confinement.

“We should go to Provan with this,” Azulya suggested, ignoring both of them. “We should ask him.”

“Yes,” Illiom agreed. “We also need to let him know that she is gone …”

The fact that each of those present had a very different experience in the cavern beneath Sudra’s Temple did not really surprise Illiom – far from it – the possibility excited her. By contriving to speak simultaneously with each of them in a personal and private way, the Firebrand had gifted them all with much more information and understanding than might otherwise have been possible.

Experiences were shared for the remainder of the walk. They agreed on certain things: they had all seen the Awoken sitting on that spur of rock jutting out over the void, had all heard the mountain’s rumble, and had witnessed the Firebrand giving Illiom the fourth Key. They had all heard the Awoken’s parting words and seen her consumed by the fire.

The differences in perception related only to the content of the words that she had reserved for each of them. The uncanny thing was that each believed the Firebrand had addressed only them and them alone.

Illiom also noticed another thing: after the exchange between Sereth and Scald, no one had offered to share what they had heard. And even more to the point, no one had asked. Illiom knew why she did not pry: it was because of the Awoken’s final warning that it was not yet time to speak of hidden matters.

She knew then that they had all received that warning.

The hour being past midnight, they deferred seeking the Draca’s counsel till the following morning. They had gone to scrounge some food from the kitchens and had just sat down to eat when Scald suddenly slapped his forehead.

“Dreel!” he exclaimed. “With all that has happened today I almost forgot about the dwarf; we are meant to meet with him at noon tomorrow … today I mean, to buy the moss.”

Elan looked up from the plate she had been filling.

“What moss?”

“The moss that the Prince used to change his appearance …”

“Arukala?” asked Argolan.

“Yes, Arukala.”

“And you did not think it sufficiently important to tell the rest of us about this?” asked Malco.

Scald threw back his cowl and glared at the Blade with a fury that froze Illiom. Scald rose to his feet, but Azulya’s hand checked him, aborting his backlash before he could release it.

“There is no advantage in baiting one another,” she said, mildly enough. “You two have been at odds for too long; it is time that you stopped this antagonism. It weakens us and undermines the cohesion we need for this quest.”

Malco, who had also risen to his feet in mirrored response to Scald, now turned his glare upon the Kroeni.

“Oh, and I suppose this advice comes directly from the Key of Unity itself, does it?”

Azulya did not take the bait. She stared at Malco until the other looked away.

“Fine,” he said, sitting back down.

He made a show of gathering food onto his plate and did not look at either Azulya or Scald, but Illiom could see that he was still angry.

Azulya had managed to interrupt the clash between the two but it was obvious that the confrontation had merely been postponed.

After a silence, Elan coaxed Scald into explaining what had happened with Dreel. Illiom’s attention drifted.

Her preoccupation was with the word inscribed on her Key; she hungered to know its meaning and could barely wait until the next morning. With her new found knowledge of the Seventy Third Fragment, she knew that it had to be one of the four unclaimed Keys: faith, passion, will, and courage. Which one was hers?

She played with the words over and over in her mind, tasting their meaning, trying to glean which one resonated the most for her. Faith was a little insipid and will, well, she was certain that she had an abundance of that. Passion was noticeably lacking in her life, so that could be the one she needed the most. But courage also held a strong quality that she held in high regard.

Her Key must be the one of Courage then, the one that opened the Door of Fear. Was she not riddled with fear? Was courage not the quality that she needed the most in her life?

Surely, there had to be a reason behind the allocation of a specific Key to each of them; it could not be random chance, without any meaning or consequence, could it?

Illiom considered the Keys they already had, to see if she could divine any link between them and their keepers. Undina’s was the Key of Clarity that opened the Door of Illusion and led into the Hall of Wisdom. Malco’s was that of Forgiveness that opened the Door of Hatred and admitted into the Hall of Love. And then there was Azulya’s, the Key of Union, which opened the Door of Separation. What lay beyond that was anyone’s guess, for it was the only Hall in the whole Fragment that remained unexplained.

“Maybe we should ask Provan for more information about the Keys,” she said out loud when her musings led to nothing useful. “It might be helpful to understand their relevance to each of us.”

Several faces turned towards her.

Scald’s glance was doubtful, as was Malco’s, and Illiom realised in that moment that, although they often clashed, the two men were quite similar in many respects.

“Hmm, I am not so sure,” Sereth said, his gaze fixed upon the hall’s ceiling. “So far the Draca have been less than forthcoming about the Keys. What makes you think Provan will be more helpful now?”

Illiom shrugged.

“I do not know, but I would certainly welcome more understanding than I currently have …”

“Well, yes, I am sure we all would,” Azulya agreed. “We know so little, and yet maybe that is exactly how it should be right now, given all the warnings that we have received.” She shrugged. “Maybe some of the information that is presently hidden will reveal itself later, when it is actually needed.”

Elan nodded absently.

“I was just remembering what is written in the Eighth Fragment, when Sudra tells Iod that: ’I shall build a temple within the stone fortress of the highest mountain in Âtras. Seven Halls will have to be crossed to reach the Orb. Seven formidable Doors shall seal the seven Halls. Seven Keys I shall deposit into the hands of worthy Keepers.” She glanced around meaningfully at the others before continuing. “A guardian I shall summon to preserve the Orb from falling into unworthy hands …” The priestess’ eyes grew wide as she recited the words of the ancient Fragment. “I know that we are beset with riddles and questions and yet I cannot shake the feeling that we are getting closer. It is even more than that, more than just a feeling ... I know that this is our destiny; to retrieve the Orb and to bestow it upon the world, as Sudra had intended …”

Sereth pulled a face.

“With respect – I am not sure that even a Daughter could know what is on the mind of a Goddess …”

“Well who else would you ask, then?” she demanded, her voice becoming shrill with distress. “A minstrel? An artist? Or maybe you had a Blade in mind or, even better, someone who has lived alone in the mountains for years on end?”

Sereth held up a hand.

“No, I am not saying that any of us has the answers – but it seems a high claim for any mortal to say that they know the mind of a god!”

Azulya stepped in before Elan could react further.

“I do not think that it matters much to our purpose what the Goddess intended; after all, the Prophecy makes no mention of Sudra. What I would really like to know is how the Adepts tie in with all of this. What is their role?”

The silence that followed clearly revealed that no one knew the answer to that question.

“The highest mountain in Âtras …” mused Sereth. “I wonder where that is …”

“West,” Scald said, as if he was uttering an expletive.

Malco snorted.

“I am not entirely sure that I like the sound of that guardian …” he said. “It sounds like yet another obstacle, and one put there by none other than a Goddess! Bad news, I say.”

Sereth brushed the Blade’s concerns aside with the flick of a hand.

“Why not just leave that worry until we reach the Temple of the Orb. We have several hurdles to cross here and now without worrying about the ones that await us beyond the horizon.”

The next morning nothing went as they had planned. Draca Provan was nowhere to be found and when the time of their appointment with Dreel grew near, they had to abandon their attempts to find the King of Iol. So together the Chosen and their Riders made for the crossroads where they had agreed to meet with the dwarf.

Dreel was already there but as they approached, Illiom saw that the dwarf’s expression was set into lines of dejection.

“I’ve been able to secure less than half of what you asked for,” he announced without preamble. “My sources tell me that the rest should be available by next moon …”

“Next moon!” Malco cried out. “We could be on the other side of Theregon by then.”

Dreel shrugged regretfully.

“Sorry, but this is completely out of my hands. It‘s the best I could do … I mean, I don’t actually harvest the stuff myself, you know.”

The dwarf looked down at the small package in his hands.

“So, do you still want this? And do you want me to see if I can get more for you? Mind, if you were to dangle a larger sum in front of me, I might just be able to pull the right strings and make sure that more is harvested quicker.”

Scald threw his hands up in the air, turning away.

Malco loomed menacingly over Dreel.

“I knew it!” he shouted at the dwarf. “Money is it? You know, I have half a mind to dangle you over that chasm. Shall we see if that speeds things up a little?”

Sereth laid a restraining hand against Malco’s chest.

“Malco … what is the matter with you? With each day that passes you seem to be becoming more and more like Scald …”

At this, Malco bared his teeth and Sereth – wisely, Illiom thought - reclaimed his hand.

“I do not care to be compared with him,” the Blade spat the words into Sereth’s face.

“Well then, for the love of Iod, stop behaving like him!” Illiom shouted. “Can we stop all this squabbling? Please! Do we not all want the same thing?”

She was aware of several sets of eyes boring into her in surprise at her uncharacteristic outburst. But Illiom kept her gaze levelled at Malco, until the Blade gave a sigh and nodded.

“Yes, yes, of course; you are absolutely right,” he admitted. “I will just … stay out of this particular negotiation.

With that, he turned on his heel and walked a few steps away from the group.

Feeling that the crisis had been averted, Dreel took the initiative.

“Here, I’ll tell you what I can do,” he began in an appeasing tone. “Pay me forty florins now for the amount I’ve got here,” he said, bouncing the package in his hands as he spoke, “and I’ll do my best to secure the rest. When I have it, I’ll deliver it to you personally, and then you can pay me the remaining eighty. Sound fair?”

Dreel had delivered this offer with such an expression of honest candour that Illiom almost laughed.

The Chosen exchanged glances. Azulya nodded, Malco shrugged as if the matter no longer concerned him. Scald shook his head, but held his tongue. And so it was agreed.

“How do we contact you if we have a need?”

The dwarf grinned knowingly.

“Why, just ask anyone,” he said with a satisfied smirk. “Ask for Dreel, and Dreel will find you …”

They concluded their business with the dwarf and Scald secreted the package of Arukala carefully under his robe. They then made their way back to Maularahad’s Keep to resume their search for the Draca but found that there was no need, for as soon as they crossed the Keep’s threshold a messenger intercepted them.

The King was waiting for them.

They found him in the Pentangle, sitting on his marble dais. He was alone.

“More news from the north,” he said, the moment they were within hearing. “An Evárudani trading ship docked at one of the Kroeni harbours has been overrun by what Kroeni officials described as ‘unidentified rogues’. They overpowered her crew, inflicted a number of atrocities upon them, plundered the vessel of valuables, threw the surviving crew and traders into the hold and towed the ship out to sea where it was torched.”

Undina released a small, fearful gasp.

Illiom’s hand flew up to cover her mouth while the other came to rest over her stomach.

“King Ollord has taken the trouble of sending a personal apology to Cevaram, reassuring the regent that those responsible will be brought to justice as soon as they are apprehended.”

“Surely they do not believe that!” Scald said. The Chosen pushed back his cowl; the unscarred skin on the right side of his face looked almost white.

Draca Provan shook his head.

“Of course not. Before dawn this morning, a fleet of Evárudani ships attacked Daralvisor Harbour. Several Kroeni vessels were sunk and all of the warehouses lining the foreshore were set ablaze.”

Provan waited a few heartbeats before continuing.

“To all intents and purposes Kroen and Evárudas are at war.”

Illiom searched the faces of her companions and saw there different reflections of her own reaction. Malco’s jaw had hardened and his eyes had narrowed. Like Scald, Elan had blanched at the news and her lips moved in what might have been a silent prayer to Sudra. Azulya held her chin high, but her cheeks were lined with tears.

War.

That which was most feared was once more loose upon the land. Soon word would spread from mouth to ear, from town to village to backwater; until no one would be spared this black tiding.

“Is it official?” asked Argolan.

Her eyes were the colour of steel.

“Not yet,” Provan answered. “But that is mere formality now. Already I fear for the lives of any Evárudani traders still stranded in Kroen. War is once again upon us, and this time it will not end until some deeper matters are laid to rest, once and for all.”

They were all silent, struck dumb by the Draca’s news. Provan raised his face towards the light of Iod that was filtering down through the canopy overhead.

“Menalor has already spoken with you and I am sure you understand that this war is about far more than meets the eye. Can you see how carefully it is being orchestrated? How events are being spun into a sticky web of deceit to ensnare the whole of Theregon?”

His questions remained unanswered and the silence hung heavy upon them.

“How goes your business here in Calestor?” he asked abruptly, changing tack. “Are you achieving all that you came for?”

On sudden impulse, Illiom pulled her Key out from the deepest pocket in her vest. She stood and offered it to the Draca.

The red gem soaked her arm as if she had dipped it in blood.

“Ah, the Key of Faith,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You will need plenty of that soon enough.” Provan reached for the Key but his hand stopped short of touching it.

Faith?

Illiom looked at her glowing Key, the very first Key mentioned in the Seventy Third Fragment. Of all the remaining Keys, faith was the one she related to the least. What did it open?

Illiom’s mind had gone momentarily blank. It took her a few moments to recall the order of the Keys in the Fragment. The Key of Faith opened the Door of Doubt and gave access to the Hall of Manifestation.

Faith?

She curbed her disappointment, however, and looked up at the Draca. “Provan, the Awoken is gone ...” she started.

But he was already nodding, and if there was any sadness in the movement, it was well veiled.

“Yes, I know ... just as we all must leave when our time comes. It is no different with those of her ilk. But on the topic of leaving … it is not my wish to rush your departure, but time wasted now may well be measured later in a greater loss of life.”

He passed a hand over his mouth.

“There is an Evárudani ship down in Flax – the nearest thing to a harbour that we have near Calestor. It is no more than four leagues south-west of here. Its crew have not had wind of this dreadful news yet and they will not know until someone from Calestor brings it to them, which will likely happen soon enough. When it does, I have no doubt that they will set sail for home as quickly as they can manage it.”

Provan peered intently into each face, as though he could actually see them.

“This is an opportunity for swift travel that will not come your way again and my counsel is that you seize it.”

From the folds of his tunic the Draca produced a message cylinder.

“Give this to the ship’s captain and your passage to Evárudas will be assured. The Varagan Draal starts at sundown tomorrow, so you will have all day to go down to Flax, pay for your passage to Cevaram and still be back in time for the Trial.”

Argolan took the cylinder from the Draca.

Things were moving fast again. They had been in Calestor for only three days and already they were being prompted to move on.

Illiom felt a pang of regret; she liked it here, much more than she had ever liked Albradan. The freedom that she felt amongst the Iolans was something that she was not used to and she would have liked nothing better than to spend more time in this land that embraced magic, where no one would ever dream of branding her as a witch.

“I understand that, given a choice, you might have wanted to spend more time with us than this incident will now allow,” Provan commented, as though in direct reply to her thoughts. “But the events that have now been set in motion will not wait upon anyone’s whim.”

The party stirred, for the audience seemed to be over.

“Not so fast,” Provan said with a small chuckle. “Before I let you go I would hear how your audience with the Firebrand went.”

The Chosen exchanged glances.

“Well,” Azulya started, “it seems that each of us has a different tale to tell. We all agree on much of what we saw, but have different accounts of what was actually said ...”

The Draca threw back his head and laughed.

“Oh, I do love her so ...” he said, once his laughter subsided. “But go on; tell me what you remember, for the Firebrand’s counsel is seldom straightforward.”

Azulya hesitated, and Scald cut in before she could speak.

“I did not like what she told me. She spoke of a time when we would be trapped and surrounded, without any apparent route of escape. She counselled that there would be just one path, one that we would not ordinarily consider, for it could only lead to certain death; and yet her counsel was that that was precisely the path we should take … she referred to it as a ‘necessary leap of faith.’”

Draca Provan turned his face towards Illiom.

“There is that word again,” he remarked, then turned back to Scald.

“A paradox within a riddle; you must be privileged,” he said and then shrugged. “I cannot expand on this for it is closed to me, but it seems like something that you would do well to remember, when the time comes. You must watch for a time when those conditions become true.”

Clearly disappointed by the Draca’s response, Scald shook his head.

“So if the time is not right and we mistakenly follow those instructions, then what we will get is certain death? Useful! What kind of advice is that?”

Provan smiled innocently.

“Then you had better use your discernment carefully. What else did she say?”

Elan went next.

“The Firebrand said that nothing could prepare us for what we would find within Sudra’s Orb. She said that the ordinary has no place within the Orb’s Temple, let alone within the Orb itself …”

“Within the Orb itself?” Provan interrupted, looking puzzled as well as keenly interested. He contemplated the words, seeking their meaning. In the end he just shrugged. “What an interesting choice of words … but please, continue.”

Elan shook her head uncertainly.

“I am not sure that I understand this, but she also said that only when dark and light could no longer be separated, or one distinguished from the other, would our quest be complete and the first part of our service accomplished. She seemed to be implying that there was more to follow …”

Provan nodded.

“Then it does seem that you have embarked upon something even larger than you had initially expected!” His words were full of laughter, which caused Scald to frown in response. “Do you remember the discussion that you walked into when you first arrived in our city?”

There were several nods in response.

“Were we not talking about the balance between the light and the dark?”

For herself, Illiom was struggling to remember all that had happened just yesterday, let alone what had been said three days ago.

The Draca continued.

“I would say that the Awoken’s comment has to do with that very balance; only, in this case, at a much more personal level.”

Provan stopped talking suddenly. He lowered his head and then nodded slowly, as if in response to a voice that no one else could hear.

“But this is not terribly useful to you right now. The things you need to know will become apparent at the right time, when you experience them, and not before. There is a great gulf between thought and direct experience, one that cannot be bridged …”

The Draca was silent for a moment.

“Azulya,” he said suddenly and turned towards the Kroeni. “There is something that you wish to say?”

Azulya nodded.

“I did not hear the Awoken speak at all,” she started. “Instead, while I was on that ledge with her, I … had some sort of a vision or a dream, I am not sure which. I saw a vast and turbulent sea that was teeming with death. I do not know how I knew it to be so … just that it was. In the middle of this sea there was a small cluster of barren islands that jutted out of the waters like great fangs. One stood out, towering above the rest; it oozed red blood into the waters all around. It was … it was so disturbing I was left breathless afterwards.”

Azulya shuddered before continuing.

“And it was not just blood. Pure malevolence tainted the sea all around it. On the very peak of the island there was some kind of a building that may have been a castle. In any case, something shaped by human hands. I recall that the stone of the building was indistinguishable from the rock of the island … it looked carved rather than built …”

Azulya closed her eyes.

“I circled around the island a number of times, each time coming closer ... until, in the end, I saw an opening near the water’s edge, a crevice so well-hidden it was nearly invisible.”

She had raised her hands and steepled them in front of her closed eyes. “The vision took me into that darkness and then … nothing more.”

Azulya stopped short.

Provan’s expression was unfathomable.

He nodded in the Kroeni’s general direction, but when he spoke his words were not directed to her alone.

“Everything the Firebrand has said or shown you is about what lies ahead, waiting upon your next move. What she has given you is greater than anything anyone else could give you, for it instructs you without putting you in any jeopardy prematurely …”

“Here we go again!” Scald protested. “I do not like it when people talk of premature danger! It implies that one day it will stop being premature and it will finally catch up …”

Draca Provan cut him off.

“Scald, do you really enjoy this role of drawing negativity upon yourself? It may serve you to find out why you do so … I am sure that the truth you discover will be entirely fascinating ...”

Scald’s eyes had grown large at the Draca’s mild admonition, but he clamped his mouth shut and spoke no more.

“To be alive is to be in danger ...” Provan continued, addressing them all. ”In danger of dying, of no longer being alive. When we are not ready to meet it, death can be a daunting and terrifying thing. When we are ready, it becomes just another passage, and an exhilarating one at that.”

Scald looked dubiously at the Draca but continued to restrain himself.

“Anyone else?” Provan asked.

Sereth nodded.

“What she told me also made little sense. She said that before we leave Calestor, we would do well to secure a serenstone, whatever that is …”

Surprised, Provan turned to face Sereth.

“Seren’s Stone?” he asked, astonishment in his eyes. He laughed with pleasure. “She is gone and she still manages to surprise me! My, my … who would have thought that someone would come for that old thing, after all this time …?”

Illiom leaned forward: she knew that a story was forthcoming and she did not want to miss a word of it.

“Only one man has ever ventured, or so he claimed, into the lands to the west of Iol, into the area referred to as the Forbidden Lands, and returned from them alive. His name was Seren Vollic and he was not in a very good state when they found him. He returned alone and on foot, the others in his expedition having long since succumbed to the rigors of the desert: to heat, to thirst and other dangers. By then Seren was no longer quite himself; he kept raving about an invisible barrier that could not be breached … a barrier that prevented entry by killing anything that came near it …”

Provan waited for a breath or two before continuing.

“You might well ask yourselves that, if such a barrier existed, and was truly invisible, how did Seren know to even speak of it? Seren largely ignored his questioners, including myself. The only thing he repeated over and over in his ranting was that ‘death betrayed the barrier’. Make of that what you will. But what most of his contemporaries surmised was that the poor man had lost his mind. They stopped listening to what he had to say or, if they still listened, they stopped taking his ramblings seriously.”

The Draca rubbed his chin between thumb and finger.

“Yet Seren was a man not without gifts. In his youth he had studied Alchemistry and had become quite adept in that pursuit. From that day - the day of his return - Seren became obsessed; he dedicated all of his time, energy and resources to just one end: to create a tool that would breach the barrier that had thwarted him. In the end he claimed to have succeeded and produced what he called his Breaching Stone, but by then he had unfortunately grown too old and feeble to test the stone for himself. Also, by then, his reputation was such that when he sought someone to go in his stead, he met only laughter and derision. He died without testing his discovery, but before his passing I visited him and it was then that he entrusted the stone into my care. I remember reassuring him that one day it would be tested and it would now appear that the day has finally arrived.”

Provan paused again, his hand moving up to sweep over his forehead and his bald pate.

“Of course you cannot be certain that the stone does what Seren intended it to; nor do I have any instructions in how you should use it … but if the Firebrand has directed you to bear it, then have it you must, and its purpose will hopefully become revealed to you.”

Illiom had been listening quietly, her mind following trails of its own. She gave voice to these now.

“Why are they called the Forbidden Lands? Is there a stricture against going there?”

“No, there is no stricture. But no one has ever succeeded in travelling west or, if they have, they have not returned to speak of it. In fact, even though Seren met with nothing but ridicule since his return, no one has ventured there since … nothing is known of what lies west of Theregon. Ancient lore speaks of a Land’s End, an unsavoury place where the earth comes to an abrupt and impassable abyss, where only spirits and demons abide; but to my knowledge, no one has seen this Land’s End either. As I said, no one has gone into the Forbidden Lands and nothing has ever come out of them …” The Draca hesitated before qualifying. “Well, not for a very long time, anyway.”

“What about by sea?” Illiom asked. “Have any vessels ever tried to sail west?”

“Yes, of course! Long ago some attempts were made. However, when the ships that set out did not return, all efforts ceased. The price was too high and the risk too great. This has been the case for so long now that it has become part of Iolan parlance. The saying ‘going into Forbidden Lands’ or ‘going west’ has become tantamount to saying ‘going to one’s death’ and is used solely to refer to choices or decisions that can only lead to inevitable catastrophe. No one attempts to go west, not even fishermen when their catches are too meagre … and since no one knows where the exact point of no return lies, they prefer to give the general direction as wide a berth as possible. Fishermen are a good example; they always prefer to remain within sight of the coast and no one strays further than that.”

“From lands forbidden a fell hand shall near and poison weak minds with deceptive thought …” Elan spoke softly, quoting the Prophecy.

Everyone turned to look at the priestess.

“Draca Menalor has told us about the Wizards of old and the darkness that sought to destroy them. So it seems that there is something in the Forbidden Lands after all and, if the Firebrand speaks truly, that is where we will eventually need to go.”

“Yes, eventually. But for now it would be wisest just to focus on the task at hand. Complete what business remains unfinished here, book your passage on the morrow, attend the Varagan Draal in the evening, and then be ready to leave for Flax again later tomorrow night.”

Soon afterwards the Draca left the Pentangle.

As soon as they were alone, they tried to determine how to proceed. Scald made his decision immediately clear.

“I will not spend another minute talking, listening, scheming, conjecturing, planning, or guessing,” he announced, rising to his feet. “Wind, if you want to come with me you had better do so now, because I am leaving.”

His Rider quickly fell in behind him as Scald stood to leave.

“Scald, wait!” Argolan called out.

The Chosen turned to look at the Shieldarm.

“Argolan, if you have a mind to stop me …”

“Nothing of the sort, Scald, but we must make some arrangements to depart early in the morning, by dawn at the latest, to go down to Flax. We should meet outside the Keep at sunrise, by the same entrance we came through when we first arrived.”

“Done,” Scald nodded. With that, he turned away and strode off.

Azulya was the first to break the silence that followed his departure.

“I am with Scald for once. We may not get another opportunity to do this, so why not each of us wander our own way until the morning?”

She met no argument.

Tarmel fell into step beside her as Illiom began to walk back towards the Keep.

“So what will you do?”

“Like Azulya said, just wander,” she replied with a smile. “Savour this brief freedom of not having to do anything at all.”

The Rider nodded and followed her out into the heat of the afternoon.