Once more, Therelin and Kren traversed the familiar road betwixt Soros and Noress-That-Was. Although they had resolved to indeed visit Master Nolicrin next, their friendship with Lord Dakhu Lefayo warranted a report of their continued efforts. Along the way, Therelin slipped into yet another vision, this time of a gently-forested hill—with not another detail of note to set it apart from a dream. It was only the recurring symbology of the hill that placed it as a vision at all.
Upon their return, Noress-That-Was remained unchanged. Ships thronged about the harbour, unwilling to risk the shore in many places where the submerged, centuries-old ruins lay in wait. Unlike their last arrival in Noress-That-Was, they were not made to wait upon reaching the stronghold estate of the late Matriarch Haladia. The guards recognized them and allowed them entrance to Lord Dakhu’s archives.
Lord Dakhu was busy speaking with the research aide of a fellow lord when they arrived, but he smiled excitedly, welcomed them back with a word, and then urged them to look for the letter on his desk while he concluded his business.
The letter was from Brother Artus of the Atmos Septi—Dakhu’s contact in Saanazar who had once mentioned the House of Kiaraka by name. Somewhat anticlimactically, the missive contained nothing more than what they had already learned. Artus knew that it was once a home of Bal’nored, it had become a school for warriors with enchanted tools and impressive skills, and that he now suspected Tarro to be its current owner.
“Therelin!” called Dakhu as he returned to his office. Therelin lowered the letter and clasped hands with his elder friend. Dakhu went on: “Welcome back! I’d ask you how Soros is, but I think you may want to hear some of my other news first…and you may want to sit for this.”
A tingle of dread slipped down Therelin’s spine as he planted it against the wooden back of a chair.
Dakhu, seeing the looks on their faces, spread his ink-stained hands to present them with two options. “Do you wish to hear about Lord Gallendris first, or about the Isle of Dusk?” His voice did not present either option as the good news to weigh against the bad.
“Gallendris first,” Therelin decided. He dreaded news that Lord Gallendris had fallen into league with the Conclave and Tarro, as some disastrous solution to the questions they had sought for so long.
Instead, Dakhu told them, “News arrived only yesterday…there was an attack in the streets of High Raena. Lord Gallendris was there, on his return journey, and—I’m sad to say—he was killed. We don’t know who is behind it, but I imagine you will have a theory…?”
Therelin bolted to his feet, nearly knocking back his chair. Gallendris—dead? He paced to the side, his mind reeling. It was as though, after months of seeking the Isle of Dusk that first time, the Isle had been wiped from Gethra, its secrets never to be revealed to him. This undertaking had driven him from youthful ignorance into what he saw as a critical role among the magicians of Gethra.
He turned back to the others to see them awaiting his thoughts. “There’s not enough evidence to say for certain. If I’m speculating, there are two suspects: Tarro, or…perhaps his old comrade among the Conclave…” he trailed off once more, thoughts trying to connect Farek’s yet unknown deeds at Kiaraka to this sudden, tragic, end. He sat down once more. “And what about the Isle of Dusk?”
Dakhu shrugged. “At least it’s not all bad. It turns out that Tarro was actually repelled that day that he attacked. We finally heard from magicians who did not flee, and have since Journeyed to spread the word. To paint a clearer picture, Tarro was joined by Havard—a well-known magician from Kedar Port—but the duo was stopped by those on the Isle. And it seems—for some reason, Tarro took the Tether with him when he fled.”
Therelin glanced at Kren, bewildered. He remembered the chaos of Tarro’s attack, that day of the summit. Tarro had been thwarted? But the Tether was in his hands now? “Does that mean we’re no longer bound by the Vows—that the Isle of Dusk is no longer controlled by it?” Therelin asked.
“No, no,” Dakhu clarified. He rubbed his scruffy cheek. “The Tether will continue to hold the oaths that were spoken by it—and you name the Isle of Dusk when you spoke the Vows, so they will hold thusly. So far, we’re not clear on what Tarro intends to do with the Tether. He might have his underlings swear by it—or he might simply want to withhold it from us.”
“Do we know which magicians drove Tarro from the Isle?” Therelin asked. It seemed a momentous triumph.
“Those who stayed played a role, certainly, but there were reports they were joined later in the day by Rattar, the Grand Mage of Numa’nakres, who had come for the summit,” Dakhu explained. He smiled. “A formidable mage.”
Therelin leaned forward, cupping his chin in his palms. There was much to consider.
“The Spell Chime is still dark, though,” Dakhu added. “Reports from daring magicians have revealed that ships now surround the Isle—Tarro’s fleet may succeed where their ruler did not, due to sheer numbers.”
This time, it was Kren who interrupted the contemplative silence. “Wait, if his fleet was on the way, why did Tarro attack first? Especially if there was a risk of failure?”
“There’s little that makes sense, these days.” Dakhu leaned back in his chair, folding his hands.
Therelin shrugged. “It must have been because of the summit? If his fleet couldn’t arrive in time to disrupt the meetings, he might have gone ahead to ensure we remain disorganized. A goal he accomplished in any case.”
“But it sounds like he Journeyed to escape death at the hands of the defenders—we might not see Tarro for months—years even,” Kren explained, though they all knew how Journeying worked—and the stakes that came with such a dangerous circumstance. “Would he waste all that time just to break up the summit?”
This time it was Dakhu who offered insight: “Rattar is by no means a regular at such summits—Tarro may simply have been caught off guard. All we can do is speculate.” He paused and sipped a wine glass. Kren and Therelin had barely touched their own. Dakhu raised his eyebrows and regarded them with interest. “What about you two? How was your visit to Soros?”
Splitting the details, Therelin and Kren told Dakhu all they had learned from Yolen and Lady Jannia. As they began to bring the story to its conclusion, Kren asked their colleague, “Did Devender come through here recently? Seems a likely place to stop on the way to Soros.”
With a smile and a nod, Dakhu confirmed it. “Yes, actually. Master Akursh—as he’s known formally—spent a week or so here. He studied a few harmless books in my Archive, introduced himself to the court and so on. Then carried on his way. This would have been—oh, early last year?”
Kren blinked, rolled his head thoughtfully, and then muttered, “Hmmm…maybe it’s nothing then.”
“What is it?” Therelin urged.
“Well, I had considered that maybe Devender—and the Conclave—had somehow orchestrated Lord Gallendris’ trip, or the events that unfolded there,” he rambled. Then he looked at them with a pained expression. “But the timeline just doesn’t seem to fit. If Dakhu’s estimate is right, Devender would have reached Soros after Lord Gallendris returned.”
They pondered the conundrum for a while. Therelin had been hopeful to one day meet Lord Gallendris and learn his perspective on this war, but now that dream had died with poor Farek. Perhaps tracking down Devender was the next best thing, but seemed far more dangerous. Kren and he explained their plan to meet with Master Nolicrin next, and Dakhu affirmed it was a wise course to pursue. As he had promised Jannia, he assured Dakhu they would keep him in the loop insofar as their circumstances allowed.
Before departing from Noress-That-Was that very evening, Therelin borrowed some of Dakhu’s stationary to pen a letter to Lady Gallendris and offer his condolences. As a small comfort, he vowed to send her anything he learned of Farek’s death, and then sent the letter on its way with the servants.
Then, sharing an earnest farewell with Lord Dakhu, Therelin and Kren brought their gifts to bear and vanished from the dusty archives of the old, half-sunken city. Therelin only hoped their visit with Nolicrin went better than his own last encounter with the master magician.