At Randhorn Court

  Water is the very essence of life in our world. But in a most fascinating way, water is also the source of magic. Or one could say . . . magic is the source of water, and water the source of life. Evidence points toward there being no life here on Mani at all until the introduction of the Wellspring of Life.

  — From Secrets of Mani, by Sor the Lark

  (Firvaen 5, 997—Waning Day)

  Within a week of riding, we came upon the capital of Nemental. Randhorn was a great city, but perhaps a little less great than I had been expecting. Despite being the king’s capital city, it was no more impressive than Nytaea, with walls slightly shorter. The stones used to build it were of a sandy color, not gleaming white. I shouldn’t have been surprised, as Nytaea had once been a prosperous nation of its own, but that was long ago, before the Archlord took over Kystrea.

  Nemental was one of a few nations scattered at the edge of the Empire’s grasp, ones which were never in the Kystrean Alliance before the Joining Wars or which Archlord Domon had simply never bothered with. Yan’Vala was hidden away in the rocky canyon lands to the north, so it didn’t have much to offer. On the southwest coast, there were Lygellis and Torlega, which had also somehow escaped the Archlord’s grasp.

  Rhidea led us right up to the castle and had us leave our horses with a couple of young grooms at the stables. The rest of us were to stay put while Rhidea went in to request an audition with the King. She had taken but a few steps, however, before she turned on her heel with that look of having forgotten something. “Lyn, Mydia, come with me.”

  I looked to the queen and shrugged. She shrugged back, and we followed our mentor. A servant opened the ornate doors for us with a polite, “Lady Rhidea,” and we entered an elaborate entry hall, somewhat similar in design to that of the Nytaean Palace but decorated differently, with more hanging plants and artwork and less gilded trim.

  Another servant, noticeably surprised to see Rhidea’s familiar face, informed her that he would show us to King Fenwel, who was open for petitions right now (and certainly for the legendary Wandering Mage, as he made sure to add). We let him guide us to the King’s Hall, even though Rhidea could certainly have gotten us there just fine by memory. After all, it hadn’t been that long since she’d been here, right? Had there been a falling out?

  At length, we reached a set of large, oaken doors with brazen handles, one of which the servant opened for us. “Right this way,” he said politely, waving us inside.

  At the end of the long, spacious hall, under the farthest arches, there was situated a majestic throne, and upon the throne sat, presumably, King Fenwel. His hair was thick and white, like mine—though I had hurriedly gone back to dying it via Mydia’s Perception Coaction after Lord Kalceron had dispelled it—and his long beard was the same color. He looked like a very noble, wise king, and my immediate instinct was to trust him. He was well-built, or at least looked to have been strong in his youth, though the years had clearly taken their toll on him, and if he had magic, he did not use it to make his visage any younger in appearance. Above all, he looked . . . tired, but he brightened when he saw who it was that had paid him a visit.

  “Ah, it’s you, child!” He seemed ecstatic to see the mage.

  “Yes.” Rhidea knelt, and the idea of her doing that for even a king was so peculiar that I instantly did likewise. Mydia knelt as well. “It has been a long time, my king.”

  “Yes, indeed. It is good to have you back, Rhidea.” The King smiled. “I trust your search has gone somewhat positively these last years, to allow you to return once more to Randhorn?”

  Well, it appears there was no falling-out, I noted.

  “You assume correctly, King Fenwel . . . in part, at least. We shall have to talk more, but for now, allow me to introduce Queen Regent Mydia of Nytaea.”

  “Queen Regent,” the king mused. “Hmm, so the rumors are true . . . If she is anything like her father, then I want her out of my castle. But if she takes after her mother more, than I think we should get along fine. My lady, how old are you?”

  “Twenty years, my lord,” she answered in a somewhat reticent voice. I could see that the mention of her father had brought back a shadow of sorrow.

  “A grown woman, then, is that right? Well, my dear, I have but one question for you—do you like broiled mushrooms and rutabagas?”

  The new queen looked understandably taken aback. “Together? I can’t say that I do . . . Your Majesty.”

  King Fenwel laughed. “Good, good. That’s very good, child, because I don’t either. What a horrible dish. At least you tell the truth. You must be all right. One would be surprised to hear how many claim to love broiled mushrooms and rutabagas when the question is posed to them.” He pointed at me, then. “How about you? Do you like it?”

  “I . . . uh . . . no, your majesty. Probably not.”

  “Good, good. You must be all right, too, then.”

  “The king has the same ability of Truthseeing that I have,” Rhidea told us, “But stronger. He’s only jesting about the rutabagas.”

  “Quite right, my friends,” said the King. Addressing me, he asked, “Now, who are you?”

  “They . . . called me . . .” I bit my lip, unsure of what to say for some reason. Finally, I cleared my throat and answered, “Lyn. Lyn of Nytaea, Your Majesty.”

  “Lyn? Well, that is a pretty name, now, isn’t it?” His reaction was the same as Rhidea’s had been.

  “She is an orphan from Nytaea,” Rhidea informed him.

  “Is that right? Well met, child.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The King looked at Mydia. “I am sorry for your loss, truly. And especially for that of your mother and brother years back. I knew them quite well.”

  Mydia seemed surprised to hear that. Had he known them before her time?

  “Thank you,” Mydia said hoarsely. “But . . . he wasn’t much of a father. He never loved me. Kallyn, maybe, although even for him . . . I don’t think that my father could find any love in his heart.”

  “Who was it that finally killed him?” King Fenwel asked Rhidea. “My sources didn’t say.”

  “I did,” the Wandering Mage replied. “He challenged me to a duel. Before we were even done, he turned on his own daughter. I executed him in the ancient fashion of magi.”

  Fenwel shook his head sadly. “He would truly try to harm his own trueborn child? How saddening. The world is a dark place, I am afraid. Well, Rhidea, how many more have you in your company?”

  “Just seven more, my lord.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is that all? A pity. I suppose you were busy tidying up from all the chaos. I trust you didn’t cause such insurgencies in every place you visited?”

  Rhidea smiled. “No, my lord. Fortunately not. It was mostly for the girl, Lyn, whose friends had been imprisoned as hostages to lure her to the Palace, to Kalceron.”

  “Oh?” The white-haired king laughed drily. “You overthrew a tyrant and caused all that ruckus just for her? Why did he want her so badly?”

  Rhidea glanced between me and the king. “She is . . . a most interesting specimen; relevant to my mission, in fact. Perhaps we could speak more on this later?”

  “Yes, yes. Please, let everyone get situated. I will have rooms prepared for all of your friends. I’ll tell the cooks to make an extra big dinner tonight. We shall celebrate!”

  “Celebrate what, sire?” Rhidea asked, tongue-in-cheek.

  “Do we need a reason?” He waved a hand in the air as he searched for a reason with meaning to it. “The . . . the Wandering Mage has come back to Randhorn! And with fine guests in tow, no less! There you go—reason enough. Now go soak in a hot bath or something. You know—hospitality. My castle is your castle.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” Rhidea led us out of the King’s Hall with a half-smile, and we returned to fetch the others. The servants informed us that they would escort us to some pre-readied rooms.

  Kaen and Cort Flanning settled with sharing a room, and Phoebe and Mandrie stayed with Teli and Julia, while I got to share Mydia’s fancy one and Rhidea reclaimed what was apparently her old room. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had a home in every country across the continent. Syneria, the snooty scholar girl, was an object of some jealousy, as she got to stay in her own room amongst the Randhorn scholars.

  Mydia had offered to let Julia and Teli go free from her service if they wished, but they both agreed to stay on. Julia had thanked me profusely for managing to pull off what she’d thought impossible by freeing her from her indentured servitude to House Kalceron. The ironic part was that, though our rescue operation had ended with her and Teli being freed from the castle, their freedom lay in the afterthought that was the regime change—for Mydia laid down new rules regarding Palace servants—not in their being physically set free.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Kaen and Mandrie were just happy to be together after all that time of separation. She and Phoebe were recovering well thanks to Mydia’s healing.

  That night, King Fenwel held a great feast in our honor, inviting many of the nobility in the city. It was actually a happy occasion, unlike what I had seen of those held at Lord Kalceron’s Palace. There was more to a joyful feast than good food and some stringed instruments. I suppose it helped when the king himself seemed genuinely pleased to have us. It was . . . amazing.

  After dinner, there was some discussion—mostly light stuff, with no big secrets or details shared about the recent events at Nytaea. Many of the nobles were curious, but they knew better than to pressure the Wandering Mage. Rhidea told some stories of the places she had seen and the castles and palaces that she had visited. People ooh-ed and ahh-ed when she told of the beautiful foreign cities, and booed when she called any place more beautiful than Randhorn. Then the other dinner guests began to trickle out. I got to meet some of them as they left, but most of the names passed right over my head.

  Once most of the dinner guests had left, all except for King Fenwel’s most trusted advisors, we got down to brass tacks. In discussion of the prospective alliance, we learned a bit more about the reason behind Rhidea’s long absence from Randhorn after becoming high magister. Apparently, she was indeed still high magister, at least in technicality, despite her having been away from her office for a long spell. All of the court officials tread lightly around her, and even called her, “My Lady” and other such titles. I knew from my own experience, watching her slay the great Lord Kalceron, that she was a very powerful mage, but her reputation was widespread from one end of the continent to the other.

  Rhidea had left with King Fenwel’s blessing to search the world for clues to the mysterious recent waning of Mani’s magic, and had lastly come to the city of her birth, Nytaea, in her hunt. She and King Fenwel had studied books of old stories, practically legend, which spoke of the origins of our world.

  “And Gaea,” the king added soberly, to the confusion of most of those present.

  I glanced around at my companions, searching for a hint of familiarity with the word, and settled on staring distrustfully at Rhidea.

  “That would be the name of an ancient land,” she said, fixing a meaningful gaze on us. “Some say Gaea is our place of origin, while others call it a myth.”

  “A mythical . . . continent?” Mydia asked.

  Rhidea shook her head. “No. Scholars have never been certain, but presumably it is an entirely different world. Human history on Argent began only one thousand years ago, after all, so it would make sense if we somehow came from another world before that.”

  “Right,” I said, “but how would we just come here?”

  The king laughed. “If only we knew that.”

  There wasn’t much more said on the topic, to my frustration. I wasn’t certain I believed any of it. After the discussion, we all trickled away from the table to find our way to our rooms again. I slept very well that night (a luxurious featherbed helped with that).

  The next day was our big tour of King Fenwel’s court. Imagine that—me being shown around a castle as an honored guest. I had been all over the Nytaean Palace in my short career as a maid, to be sure, but that was different from the life that I now led. I was a lowborn girl off the streets. I had thought myself to be living in luxury as a handmaiden to Princess Mydia, but now I was free and had it almost as well as she herself.

  The queen and I finally had time to talk as near-equals, chatting ofttimes for hours. Kaen joined in as well, along with Mandrie, Phoebe and the two royal handmaidens. Mydia became a sort of adopted sister to us. Mandrie and Teli got along great, although Phoebe mostly kept to herself, pretending she didn’t like it here when Mydia wasn’t looking. Phoebe and Julia seemed to share similar dispositions. Julia and the two younger girls were both shocked and intrigued to hear all that we had been doing behind the scenes at the Palace. Even Mydia had been largely in the dark for most of the time of our friendship at the Palace, and Julia had hardly known anything at all about me.

  Cort and Syneria got over their stuffiness and became more talkative. They warmed up surprisingly quickly to us, though they soon found the castle’s resident magi to be of more similar tastes.

  Not long after our arrival at Randhorn, I was alone with the blonde mage and Mydia when a new topic came up. “So . . . have you given any more thought to Ethas, Mydia?” Syneria asked.

  I looked quizzically at my new queen.

  Mydia snorted, not the derisive sort but rather in a way that said she had forgotten about something. “Not . . . enough, probably. But I am thinking he’s the best choice.”

  “Mydia,” I said in mock indignation, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Both women looked at each other and laughed, faces reddening slightly. “Not like that, trust me,” Mydia replied, waving her hands. “Syneria’s the one who’s marrying into his family. Ethas Gandel just happens to be my best choice for regent at the moment. He’s a distant cousin of mine.”

  I nodded, turning to Syneria. “You’re engaged already? You look like, what, sixteen?”

  She raised her chin. “Sixteen and a half. But no, I’m not the one getting married! Why do you think I’m out here in Randhorn, if not to avoid the eligible bachelors?”

  It was my turn to laugh.

  “It’s my elder sister, Aldyr Tolruin,” she said.

  “Ah.” That made more sense.

  To be honest, I didn’t feel as though I fit in with any of the scholars. Sure, they all wanted to meet me, to get to know Rhidea’s new star pupil, and I did seem to have great Aptitude in the fire branch, but . . . all they wanted to do the rest of the day was study. I couldn’t hold myself still now that I had freedom, not to mention my reading skills were still only a step above abysmal. I made myself study when Rhidea said to, slogging through an assigned book while keeping to our daily lessons (and literacy lessons with Mydia). Whenever I asked about Gaea, Rhidea would say dismissively, “All in time, child.”

  I basically split my life in half at this point, dividing it between making Rhidea proud with my studies, and trying as hard as I could to avoid them—which I did by running around the castle and climbing towers when no one was looking, and asking Kaen to show me how to handle a weapon. He had learned quite well the way of the sword and the spear, and had quickly risen to taking finer instruction on different sorts of combat. (He had also, he admitted, stolen that lovely blade he’d been carrying around, but Mydia gave him official permission to keep it.) The training translated very nicely to using my abnormal strength efficiently. He taught me how to punch so that the knuckle bones did not get crushed, how to kick with the ball or heel of the foot, and quick defenses to common attacks with various weapons, and with none at all.

  I truly enjoyed all of the time spent at Randhorn Castle, and I almost wish now that it could have gone on longer, because it was so peaceful. . . . At any rate, even there at Randhorn, as I said, I was reading up on the workings of our world, its magic, and the slow disappearance thereof.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. I didn’t want to accept that I was a part of it all, yet instinct told me I was.

  On the tenth of Firvaen, Rhidea and King Fenwel summoned Mydia and me. We had been chatting, but now stopped and went to see them, only to find Kaen already there. What is going on?

  “There you are,” Rhidea said in a tone that had no brightness in it. She got down to business quickly. “It is time to talk about Gaea.”

  Ah. . . . “Finally,” I muttered wryly.

  Rhidea flicked a glance my way. “Indeed. Our world is falling apart, expiring . . . dying. We need to do something.”

  “Rhidea has it right,” agreed Fenwel. “We have deemed it time to stop putting off what must be done.”

  “Which is?” I asked. Kaen and Mydia kept silent, taken aback by Rhidea’s sudden announcement.

  “We must find the Wellspring of Life,” said Rhidea.

  “Wellspring of . . .” Kaen glanced my way confusedly.

  “The legendary source of all magic on Mani,” I said. “Right, Rhidea?” I had read about it in a book.

  “That is correct. The source of all magic and life here on the face of Mani.” The red-haired mage held up a long finger for emphasis. “Said to have been placed there by the creator himself. It lies far to the west, in Ti’Vaeth, the capital of Kystrea.”

  “The Wellspring of Life,” Mydia murmured.

  Rhidea nodded, as though the queen’s words had been a question of its existence. “Without it there would be no life on Mani. Its power is weakening, and Mani is dying as a result. We need to discover the reason for that.”

  Kaen frowned. “Why? What does this ‘Wellspring’ actually do? Is it a literal well? Like a water well?”

  “Yes. The Well is the only source of water on the entire face of Mani. From it spring the Four Rivers: Yartel, Gantz, Rudaens and Ardencaul. The Wellspring gushes up and feeds the rivers continuously. Without the Well, there would be no water on Mani, and thus no life. Its streams have lessened, affecting many different areas of life across the world, resulting in food shortages and crop failures, sickness. . . . But the Wellspring is also the first source of magic on Mani. Without it, it is said that magic would cease to be. And its power is waning.”

  “But wouldn’t that just affect water magic?” asked Kaen.

  “Nay,” said King Fenwel. “Water is indeed the greatest element, but all elements can only be manipulated, whether by Coaction or Authority, by the power of the Wellspring.”

  “So . . .” I fingered my silver ponytail, staring thoughtfully down at the floor. “The origin of magic and life here on Mani must have taken place at the same time. They’re tied together.”

  “That makes sense,” said Mydia. “If the Wellspring was placed on Mani by a higher force through magic, then said magic would surely affect the whole world.”

  Rhidea nodded approvingly. “Precisely, my dear. It changed our entire world. Or at least . . . so the ancient scholars seem to have believed. No one knows for sure.”

  “That’s what it said in my mother’s book,” said Mydia.

  “So . . . you mentioned finding the Wellspring,” I said carefully. “But, as you said, it’s in—”

  I cut off as King Fenwel chuckled.

  Rhidea grimaced. “It’s not that simple. The fountain that springs up in Ti’Vaeth is hard to miss—in fact, any polestone will point you right to it—but the actual opening of the Well . . . I have never found the entrance to it. Mostly because Domon keeps his palace heavily guarded and one must get into the deepest underbelly of the Hall of Eternity, at the center of the Ti’Vaeth Citadel, to find it. But I know that it is somewhere deep beneath the Capital City, walled in by the Hall of Eternity.”

  “So we’re going to Ti’Vaeth?” Mydia asked in hushed excitement.

  Rhidea smirked. “We? You are soon to be resuming control of a kingdom, my dear child.”

  Mydia opened her mouth and paused. She was about to speak when Rhidea continued.

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Rhidea turned to her liege lord. “Have we finished all of the preparations?”

  The aged king nodded. “Yes, Rhidea. I will send Christoff with a battalion of one hundred spear soldiers to supplement Nytaea’s troops and bolster the defense forces in return for Nytaean spices. We’ve arranged the necessary . . .” He began to rattle off a long list of political, economic and military details cited in a treaty document, which Rhidea and Mydia pored over with him.

  Kaen and I looked at each other with bored expressions. Political stuff, I mouthed to him, eliciting a small smile.

  Before long, the meeting was adjourned, and we were introduced to Lieutenant Christoff, a man of middling height and a proud bearing whom the king trusted. He was to travel with us back to Nytaea and station his troops there.

  The next morning, we would set out.