The Umbra Council

  We, the Umbra of the Moon, shall remake this world. We shall work in the darkness to create a new day, a new Mani, and a new order. We shall forge an unbreakable world, untouchable by the shadow that looms afar, whether it take ten years or another thousand. This we swear, by the blood of Mani.

  — Pact of the Umbra, paragraph one

  (Norvaen 16, 997—Dusk)

  Archlord Domon watched the party leave and then departed with his retainers for the Ti’Vaeth Citadel. He talked with them as they went, keeping the appearance of interest in such topics as the joust that Lord Humphret’s son was having that day.

  Inside, his mind was working—working on something else. He was always thinking, always planning, even when he spoke with others, when he made judgments on petty border disputes, even as he slept oftentimes. Today, Domon could think of nothing other than what would come of his alliance with Nytaea. . . .

  All that time, and they did have the girl, he thought. Perhaps Kalceron had been worth something, setting the events in action that would eventually end in the girl coming out into the open. But he never would have imagined they’d bring her here, of all places. Hopefully they would be able to accomplish their goal and make it all the way to the Gate on the other side . . . Domon had a lot riding on that one thing.

  Later that evening, the Archlord bid his retainers good day at the palace and withdrew from his audience hall for his inner chambers, which lay directly behind. If they needed him, they would call, but this was the time of day when he had no duties pressing him, and he disliked company.

  Besides, there would be company enough soon.

  Shoes off and dressed down, he took a seat in his high-backed reading chair near the already-crackling fire in the hearth. He let out a contented sigh. With no scrolls to read right now, he simply pondered the pact he had just made.

  Those Nytaeans . . . it galled him to have to cede such a thing as liberty to those rebels, although in truth he could have still flatly refused. But they had pointed out flaws in his plans and matters of great importance regarding Mani and his thousand-year deadline, and he needed someone competent to help him in this new task. It was potentially worth almost anything in the world. But would it be enough to stop the Silver Beast?

  Absently, he rubbed at his right arm, massaging the sore muscles from his exercise the previous day. That silly romp had actually been quite fun minus the torque that girl had and the bruises on his knuckles from the solid wood table and the collision therewith. Such raw behemoth strength . . . he could only imagine what power the Gaians truly possessed. If only he had been able to meet her mother before she died. There was a secret there that Rhidea had been keeping close to her chest.

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  Domon reached out and pulled an emerald orb off his desk, just the size to fit nicely into the palm. It was one of his treasures, perfectly matching one that he had sent with Kymhar. It was no great secret, just a tool to communicate with his favored servant and check up on their progress. The orbs had been crafted by Domon himself, for his specialty lay in imbuing objects with power from various sources. With his range of Authority, and a bit of Dark Magic, he was able to experiment and invent all manner of useful devices. Many magi seemed to think magic a tool sufficient in itself, not worth bothering to experiment with and try new things. Idiots, all of them. Rhidea was one of the few with any real talent—she always had been, she and that Kallyn Kalceron. . . .

  Domon rubbed the emerald absently. In a few minutes, the Umbra Council would reconvene and discuss the new happenings, but he wouldn’t tell them everything. Not just yet. Lhiard would be curious, and Lieda . . . well, he would see if she even made it or not.

  Domon got up from his seat and changed into his dark attire for the monthly Umbra Council. Approaching the back wall of his room, he slid his hand along the side of a bookshelf and used a small bit of Coaction to slide the lock. He then shoved the shelf to the side. It slid on oiled rollers, revealing the path to his meeting hall.

  He stepped inside, passing through a doorway into an octagonal chamber dominated by a central table, made of stone raised directly out of the floor by earth magic. A stone chair stood right beside him, and eight candles sustained by magic lit the room from the eight corners of the table. Two other magi stood around the room, leaders of Kystrea whom he greeted with small nods: Kyal, Lord of the province of Imdek, and Lhiard, Lord of Uphel. Within a minute, Lord Tyiv of Dotham—an upper-class noble, not a governor—arrived, and shortly afterward . . . there she was.

  Lady Lieda teleported in, holding her own crystal. She murmured an apology for her tardiness, noticing that she was the last one there.

  “So, you made it, Lieda,” came Lhiard’s high-pitched voice from across the room. “Looks like that makes all five of us, then. We all know who will never be coming back now.”

  Lieda didn’t so much as flinch at the mention of her late husband. Of course, Domon knew that she had despised him for a while. If only she knew what a pathetic hound dog she was, licking at the heels of those higher . . .

  The Archlord clapped his hands. “Let’s begin, then. We have some news to discuss. You see, a pact was formed just yesterday between me and Nytaea. This pact will allow them to keep their freedom and secede from the Empire of Kystrea.” Gasps followed his announcement, but he held up a hand to silence the four. “However, I only agreed to it on the condition that a certain party of magi from the city-state partner with me—with us—in fulfilling our goal of uniting the world.”

  No need to tell them that he had been backed into it.

  “And how, my lord, can they possibly help us achieve that?” came the raspy voice of Lord Tyiv.

  Domon looked toward the smaller man. “The Wandering Mage herself is among those who pledged their help. I believe that they can cross the Great Chasm and find the Gate for us. Of course, I’m sending them off with one of my best retainers, skilled in espionage and stealth among other things, and he will be keeping tabs on their journey’s progress and making sure that things go smoothly.”

  “My Lord,” Kyal said in a worried tone. “This is truly worth giving over one of our kingdoms, one of the oldest and most powerful?”

  One of my kingdoms, Domon thought. But he didn’t say this. Instead, he simply nodded and said, “Yes, it is.”