The Treaty

  Lastly of all went Nytaea, home of the mage soldiers. They had the strongest military of all other states, and did not take kindly to their freedom being taken. But they were no match for the combined might of the other twelve states joined together. Finally, after the last of the Joining Wars, Nytaea came under control of Archlord Domon and he set up Edrius Kalceron as her ruler. Satisfied, Domon called an end to his economic and military wars and began setting his new empire in order. Truth be told, he has not been a harsh emperor since. It remains unclear why Domon wanted all of Kystrea so badly. . . .

  — From Secrets of Mani, by Sor the Lark

  (Norvaen 15, 997—Sunset)

  A short time later, Kaen, Rhidea, Mydia and I sat in one of the Archlord’s private audience rooms, seated around a half-round table. Two imperial guards stood watch outside, along with Inno, Ruel and Kath. It wasn’t that we didn’t trust those three, they just weren’t fully a part of our mission and we wanted Domon to feel like he could have a private discussion with us.

  Domon sat regally but with a somewhat . . . resigned air. His head was slightly bowed, clasped hands clenched a little too much. His chair was on the flat side of the table, its back away from the door, and it was tall and just that little bit grander than ours. That little bit made all the difference sometimes, but not today.

  “So, as promised,” he said tiredly, “I’ll give you the whole story. But where to begin? One hundred years ago, I forged this empire of Kystrea under one banner. Thirteen, and yet one. The other warlords I made rulers of the other twelve city-states, while I remained in absolute control of Ti’Vaeth and its surrounding lands.

  “Then I began to search for the key to Authority. For nine hundred years, our people had possessed magic, yet we knew so little about it. Most of the ancient texts say that it was a gift to humankind by the gods of long ago, but a gift for what? And why? Who are these gods? At that point, the Wellspring was not such a well-guarded secret. Just forbidden. The water pouring forth from the Well was far stronger then, and possessed a thick, vibrant power.” Domon sounded wistful as he said it. Then he continued:

  “I forced my way into the Well, against all advice from advisors. There, I found a wealth of knowledge. The deeper I dove into it, the more I discovered. It appears you’ve seen the mural? The High Legaleian was easy, but eventually I was able to puzzle out some of the Gaean writing as well. There are also other snippets from ancient Legaleian writers left on the pillars.

  “One thousand years ago, we came from a world called Gaea. This world, Mani, is not our home—it is the exile. An exile from something I still do not understand. But it had to do with the evil force depicted as a dragon, which came from the golden world—a “moon” as the pillar writings called it. It would seem that the living force we call Silver overtook this “moon” shortly before, or in preparation for, our exile here.

  “The Wellspring was originally given by a powerful being, a god or gods, perhaps someone from Gaea. I know not, but it seems the Wellspring was transported from Gaea to Mani somehow, and it was what made life possible here on Mani. But its power has been waning ever since its arrival, a well-documented phenomenon that corresponds with the increasingly unbalanced birth rates of boys and girls.

  “To summarize, we had two issues: our Wellspring was failing, and a force from another world posed a large, potentially existential threat to Mani. I gathered together a group of inner advisors over the last century. Edrius Kalceron was one of them, but . . . he was consumed in the end by his own greed. We gathered under one purpose—the salvation of Mani.”

  “The Umbra Council,” I whispered. “That’s what you were after?” Somehow, that didn’t make them seem any better.

  He nodded soberly. “We wanted to guard the secrets of Mani while also guarding Mani itself from this threat.”

  “Of course,” Rhidea said smoothly, taking my opportunity to respond. “And from there, Domon?”

  The Archlord paused just long enough to convey his annoyance at being prompted. “Well, we plotted for years in the shadows, a coalition of rulers, few though there were of us. Meanwhile, I harnessed the power of the Well to create a Dark Magic that is far more potent than most of the natural forces of life here on Mani. Remember that, without magic, our world would have no life at all. Now, the power that our world does have was clearly limited, but we saw fit to make use of this limited power in order to better protect Mani from the coming threat.”

  “Which is?” Rhidea prompted with a hand motion. “Is there an actual monster coming to attack us? Are the Gaeans themselves going to invade? Is there a way for them to access this world directly?”

  He pursed his lips. “The writings spoke of a malignant force from the other world that seeks to wipe us out. It seems our ancestors did something to anger this evil, and one day it will catch up to us. The ancient Legaleians wrote of a . . . doorway . . . on the other side of the world. A gate from our world to another, presumably Gaea.”

  “The . . . other side of the world?” Mydia repeated.

  “Yes,” said her teacher. “Far beyond the Sea of Emptiness.” She leaned forward. “And this other world, Domon, what do you know of it?”

  He grimaced. “Too little. I know our people originate from Gaea, but also that another people dwell there, possessing a power that we do not. Whether they and the evil that seeks to destroy us are one, I do not know, nor whether they possess magic or not, but they likely have the capacity to wipe us off the face of Mani. There are numerous materials such as iron mentioned in the old texts, ones that do not even exist on Mani, and given the pathetic amount of advancement the average Legaleian scholars attempt to make in our tech-nology . . . I think it’s safe to say that their technology and weaponry are far advanced beyond our own.”

  Rhidea furrowed her brow in thought, appearing displeased at his words. “You may be right. The question that remains is what to do about it? You seek salvation from within, while we seek to restore balance by making a voyage to Gaea to understand the problems facing Mani and create a solution.”

  “Indeed,” said the Archlord. “Perhaps I was rash to not listen to you before now. But . . . there is something I must know first: is this girl is from Gaea?”

  My breath caught briefly. I’d known it was coming, but there was nothing like that moment where your powerful enemy suddenly finds out your deepest secret—particularly one like that.

  “That is . . . our going theory,” Rhidea said slowly.

  Domon squinted his eyes at me. “So, what are your powers like? Did you really fight my Authority with only brute strength? You, a mere twig barely grown?”

  My face reddened slightly, not because what he said was an insult. Perhaps it was just the attention on me. “I did,” I said in a strangled voice. Then I coughed and continued, “I was born this way. I’m . . . strong, at least stronger than I look, and . . . when I really need it, it’s like I have a secret well of power that I can draw upon. It gives me incredible strength in return for great fatigue and hunger soon after.”

  “Fascinating. And when did you discover that you were different? Did you hide this from others as a girl?”

  I nodded. “I’ve known since I was little. My hair is also normally white without dye or illusions, and it gives me away pretty quickly.”

  Domon’s face showed surprise, indicating he hadn’t thought that I might be wearing an illusion. But, evidently believing me, he didn’t seek to remove it now.

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  “I found her in the Nytaean Palace,” Rhidea explained. “It is a long story, but Lyn and her friend here had a personal goal, someone they wanted to rescue from the prisons. I helped them, and it spiraled out of hand. The rebellion happened that day, and it all went to chaos.”

  Well put, I thought to myself. No need to tell the Archlord exactly how big a hand we’d had in orchestrating it all.

  Domon simply nodded, taking in this information. “So, you know my story and I know yours. Now is the part where we strike an accord, yes?”

  Rhidea nodded, preparing to speak, but I interrupted:

  “Wait. What about the poem?”

  Rhidea and Domon both frowned at me, and I recited word-for-word the ancient poem inscribed below the mosaic:

  ‘To take the bait a world away,

  A Wellspring hid amongst the grey.

  We wait, remember, for the day,

  For one millennium we stay.’

  “If . . .” I swallowed. “If the bait has to do with these monsters, or whatever is out to get us, and that was our cause for migrating to Mani, then what does it mean about one millennium? It’s the year 997 right now.”

  Rhidea gave me a speechless look before turning to the Archlord. “Domon?”

  He licked his lips. “I have a theory on that. A few, but one that I think is more likely, and it ties into the Umbra Council’s plans. The Wellspring could have been given to Mani with the intent to take it back after a thousand years, or it could be a reference to the lifespan of the Wellspring—that it is projected to shut down after one thousand years.”

  “Which would make sense, since we’ve been losing magical strength on Mani for centuries already,” said Rhidea.

  Domon nodded. “But I think it is more likely a reference to an accord made between the Legaleians and the other people of Gaea. To the effect that we can come back after one thousand years, because the danger should be over. A thousand-year banishment.”

  “But you don’t think the danger is over,” I said.

  “Correct. I do not trust the people of this other world. I would rather prepare and wait it out until the thousand years have passed and see what comes. Which is why . . .” He sighed. “Which is why your plan is a good one. We can work together to find Gaea, and then see what is actually going on. And yes, we can make an accord sparing Nytaea from military invasion.”

  Rhidea snorted. “I fail to understand how it never occurred to you that our goals are so similar. But in order to move things forward . . . we will volunteer to venture out across the world and find this gate. If you will work with us, Archlord Domon, I think we can discover what we are both looking for: a true and lasting solution to the plight of Mani, both domestic and foreign.”

  The golden-haired emperor drummed his fingers on the surface of his desk, nodding his head. I could tell that he didn’t like ceding his plans to anyone. He liked power. That was why he had been ready to have us all executed just for discovering his plans. “Very well. Had I known you were so foolhardy, I may have offered my help to you sooner. I’ll send you off, but only with my support.”

  “Excellent,” Rhidea said. “Now we just have to discuss an agreement between the Kystrean Empire and Nytaea. Mydia, heiress of House Kalceron, will be Nytaea’s representative. . . .”

  After a long session of planning and a subsequent meeting with some of Domon’s highest advisors, we had a pact mostly outlined. He would send us off with an elite soldier as well as a few magical trinkets of his own creation (which we would see on the morrow).

  As for me, I was exhausted from my exertion of power during my match with Domon. I had used the very utmost of my strength, and even that short burst was enough to take the wind out of my sail. Whether it arrived immediately after or a few hours later, the backlash always came. One of the servants whom the Archlord had assigned to us pointed me toward a place with a bed to lie down, and I dropped onto the mat without a care to strip off more than my dirty boots.

  ??

  “Lyn, it’s been a while.”

  I turned to see her there, right beside me: White, the dream girl. She lay on her side in the silvery field, one arm propping up her chin, picking at some little flowers that grew amongst the pale grass. She looked from the flowers to my face, almost bashfully but more like . . . yes, I knew that emotion: she felt neglected . . . rejected.

  I was kneeling beside her, wearing a long gown of pure white. “I’m sorry,” I said awkwardly. “I mean, I can’t really just—control it. I dream when I dream. You’re . . . still not going to tell me who you are, are you?”

  She shook her head in a pouty way.

  I sighed. “Nor why I keep having these dreams? White?”

  White looked up, a frown wrinkling her perfect, childlike face. “White?” she repeated. “That’s new.”

  “Well, you’re . . .” I gestured to the girl, her skin, her hair, her cute little pasty-white dress. “You’re, you know, just sort of . . . white.”

  She giggled. “Yes, but so are you, silly!”

  I looked down at my own white dress and then pulled a long lock of my hair into view, seeing that is shone brilliant silvery-white in my dream—no dyes, no illusions.

  “Well, you can call me whatever you want,” the girl chirped. “I’ll always be here to help you out when you need it.” She rose to her feet.

  “Wait!” I protested. “You’re not going to show me anything tonight?”

  “A memory? Just say the word, Lynx, and I’ll fetch you one.”

  Lynx . . . “I-I don’t know,” I said sadly. “I’m not the one with the memories. I can’t—”

  “Yes, you are!” The girl said indignantly. “You really don’t get it. Well, whatever. I’ll see you next time, Lyn!” With that, she turned and skipped off.

  “Wait—” I began, but it was no good. The girl disappeared into the distance, leaving me in the field of waving grass.

  ??

  (Norvaen 16, 997—Dusk)

  The next morning, we stood ready to embark on a riverboat at the southern pier of Ti’Vaeth. We would be taking the vessel down the Ardencaul to Nytaea. I still didn’t fully understand how it worked, but apparently earth magi had long ago dug out long channels from the lake to each of the Four Rivers, creating a direct path from Ti’Vaeth to most provinces of Kystrea, as well as the outlier kingdoms like Nemental and Lygellis. The water from the Wellspring rained down and also sprung up from underneath, both filling the lake and supplying the water of the rivers and their tributaries.

  When the Archlord said he would send help with us, though, I hadn’t expected him to mean an assassin bodyguard. Kymhar was a tall man, wiry and wearing so many extra layers of clothing that he looked like he’d be overheating in it. His face was like a mask, expressionless as Mydia’s childish paintings, and he had a . . . presence about him. Or a lack thereof. He seemed to exude danger. He carried at least a dozen sharp objects on him, ranging from his curved, single-edged sword to daggers, to a strange type of throwing knife which Kaen called a kunai. His shoulder-length black hair was tied in two places, one above the other.

  He was one of the Archlord’s best assassins, known collectively as the Dalim. He was tasked with accompanying us to the edge of the world and beyond.

  Another gift from the Archlord was a nondescript leather bag containing three orbs of Dark Magic. He said to use them only in a pinch. Our discussion with the Archlord had led to some eye-opening, and surprisingly satisfying, conclusions. We now carried with us a list of stipulations from Archlord Domon to the city-state of Nytaea, a tentative proposal including the conditional promise to call back his armies and not invade. Some of these things would be made public while others, such as our own personal, updated quest, were to be kept to only the most trusted acquaintances of ours and the new leaders of Nytaea. Domon had agreed to “Hold off and see what may become of this fledgling nation—if they agree to work with me.”

  We couldn’t have hoped for a better resolution. I almost felt foolish for the ways we had tried to get into the Well, going under Domon’s nose, before I remembered that he had not been willing to parley with Rhidea or hand over information until after we had proven that we were not only motivated enough to go through all that work to sneak in, but that we had . . . me, the very proof of his life’s work, in our party. So I supposed the arm-wrestling paid off.

  Sol was buried far behind us, already beyond the western horizon. It cast a glowing silhouette over the lake, creating a shimmering tapestry of color on Lake Lucia’s surface as the light played on the surface of the water, reflecting off the misty dome that surrounded Ti’Vaeth. Mydia, as usual, was the first to break the silence:

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  We all looked to the princess—or, well, queen—as though she were not supposed to have spoken. I nodded slowly.

  The captain of the riverboat called out and a bell rung. “That’s our cue,” said Kaen. “Let’s be off.”

  The End of Part Two