“This is our last day in Farmin,” he announced. Several of the mages opened their mouths to object, but the Mage halted it all with a simple raising of his hand. “Our work is never done, but we have no more time for Farmin.” He turned his gaze towards the elven healer. “Eulena, I want you to lead the group northward. You may travel along the Federation Highway, or use the trails through the Dark Forest, whichever you think is safer. Do not call attention to yourselves. Times within the Federation are soon to become more dangerous than they have ever been.”
“Where will you be?” asked Atule.
“And where are we going?” asked Kalmar.
“I am needed elsewhere,” answered Fakir Aziz. “I will rejoin you soon. As for our destination, we will head towards Giza. That is all I can say at the moment.”
The Mage turned and left the room. Kalmar immediately rose and returned with four fat pouches of gold. He upended the pouches on the table, spilling gold coins out in front of him. Atule raised an eyebrow as he watched the young mage from Korocca count the coins and separate them into two piles.
“That is a fair return on my diamond,” stated Atule. “What will you do with it?”
Kalmar took the smaller pile of coins and placed them into one of the pouches. He tied the pouch closed and slid it across the table to Atule.
“That is a small return on your diamond,” stated Kalmar, “but it is enough to get us started in Giza should we make it that far. I would like you to hold onto it.”
Atule tied the pouch to his belt, but he still watched Kalmar closely as the young Koroccan put the rest of the coins into the other three pouches. When Kalmar tied those three pouches to his own belt, Atule’s eyebrow rose again.
“That is hardly a fair split of our efforts,” Atule remarked.
Kalmar rose and looked at the mage from the jungle. “I am going to find Bacar and give him the gold.”
“You are going to give gold to a thief?” quipped Atule.
Kalmar merely smiled and left the building, but Zynor answered the question. “Bacar is no more a thief than we are. He takes money from the rich to aid the poor. So do we. The only difference is that we give the rich potions to make them feel better about parting with their gold.”
“Bacar is as fine a man as you will ever be,” taunted Crystil. “At least he is honest about his shortcomings.”
Atule sighed deeply and shook his head. He rose from the table and disappeared through the curtain.
* * * *
The Cliffs of Ranool rose over one-thousand feet from the surface of the sea to form the southern side of the Needle. The face of the cliffs was stark, but there were a few caves, although the sheer rise of the face made those caves inaccessible to all but flying creatures. There was, however, one cave unseen by the ships moving through the narrow straight. It had no visible entrance because its opening was well below sea level. The inside of the cave was roomy, and it had several small tunnels that provided light and air while keeping prying eyes away. At night, even a fire was acceptable as the winds flowing through the Needle would quickly disperse the smoke and avoid giving away the hiding place.
Captain Gomery sat idly in the cave, staring at the large pool of water in the center of the chamber. His love for Haditha had kept him content over the months they had hidden in the cave, but he found himself thinking about the Alceans more and more with each passing day. He wondered if any of them were still alive, and what they might be doing. He wondered if the war between the two continents had started yet. Or was it already over? It was not as if he was growing tired of being with the water witch. He still loved her deeply, but his uneasiness grew stronger with each change in the tides. He did not know what to make of it.
A loud slap snatched the captain from his thoughts. He looked down to see a large fish sliding across the rock towards his feet. He stopped its progress with his foot and then let his eyes return to the pool. Haditha, in her mermaid form, stared back at him.
“Where were you?” she asked softly as she pulled herself out of the pool of water.
“What do you mean?” asked the captain, confusion evident in his voice. “I haven’t gone anywhere. I cannot.”
“But you can,” Haditha sighed as she changed her form into the old woman from the Endless Swamp. “You travel in your mind, and I know that you were somewhere else when I returned. You did not even notice me when I surfaced.”
“I am sorry,” apologized Captain Gomery. “I can’t stop thinking of the others. It gets worse every day.”
“I understand.”
Captain Gomery raised an eyebrow in surprise. He was sure that Haditha would immediately take his words in the worst possible way, as if his love for her was no longer strong.
“I suppose it is a failing of humans to require contact with one another,” he offered sheepishly. “I still love you dearly.”
“I know,” Haditha smiled tautly. “You have proven that beyond question. I have spent so many years in isolation that I forget how it felt in the beginning. I am wrong to subject you to this.”
“It is not wrong for us to desire to be with each other,” countered the captain.
“No,” agreed the water witch, “but it is selfish. The others need our help.”
“We do not even know if any of them are still alive,” frowned the captain. “How can you say that they need our help?”
“The feelings of anxiety are not yours alone,” admitted Haditha. “We are being summoned to the Isle of Despair.”
The captain frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” the water witch replied candidly, “but I know it to be true. A force more powerful than anything I have ever known is causing our anxieties. I have found myself wondering about the Alceans and how they are doing. That is not natural for someone like me. It is clearly a command to return to your people.” The water witch nodded towards the fish she had thrown towards the captain. “We will have a fine meal this evening and then depart for the Isle of Despair.”
* * * *
The dwarven mages of Tarashin were a varied lot. Some were male, and some were female. Some were old, while others were young. They came in all shapes and sizes, but they had one thing in common. All of them were well versed in the magics of strengthening metal and cutting into rock. Metal and stone were the mainstay of dwarven life, and dwarven magicians seemed to have an innate ability to perform such magics. A few had taken their mastery of the arts far beyond those rudimentary offerings, and they had often tried to interest the others into expanding their knowledge. The result of those efforts had been the creation of the Magicians’ Guild. The guild met once a month, and magicians took turns teaching new spells.
Dorforun was the current leader of the guild, and a frequent lecturer. He was extremely tall and lanky for a dwarf, which had precluded him from working in some of the more enclosed spaces during his earlier years. As a result, he had spent more time studying old magical scrolls than most of his kinsmen. Over the years he had amassed an amazing knowledge of magic, and he was eager to share it with the others.
On this particular day, Dorforun was speaking before the guild about a spell that could create flexible watertight seals. While the process of creating the seals was complex, manipulation of the seals after their creation was amazingly quick and simple.
“As you can see,” summarized Dorforun, “the seals can be quickly expanded or contracted. Other than our little display basin here, can anyone think of uses for these seals?”
“The obvious use is for sealing doors where water might intrude,” stated one of the dwarves.
“That is obvious,” snorted another magician, “but there are other potential uses. The generous amount of expansion and contraction suggests another use to me. If these seals are strong enough, they could be contracted and fitted into a crevice in the rock. They could then be magically expanded, forcing the crevice to widen.”