Page 50 of Path of the Dark
16
Dark Intent
A GRIN SPREAD across Gael’s face.
Bending close to the parchment, he reread the line he’d just translated. He needed to make sure he’d got the details right. There they were, the words scrawled in a sloping style that made them hard to read, the ink faded with age.
Excitement pounded through Gael. Reaching out, he traced the words before him with a fingertip.
The words that spoke of Stynix.
Valgarth, The Shadow King, hadn’t needed to use it, for as a wielder of both the Light and the Dark, he was powerful enough. However, he’d studied at length for a way to create an invincible enchanter bodyguard. Stynix had long been known for its ability to enhance an enchanter’s powers. Unfortunately though, the mineral, mined deep in the Black Mountains to the north of Rithmar, was dangerous. You only had to take it a couple of times and you’d start bleeding from the nose. If you kept taking it, you usually choked to death on your own blood.
“Finally,” Gael whispered to Shade, his voice catching. The grey rat sat upon his shoulder, her long tail tickling his neck. “Weeks and weeks of searching … I was beginning to think Irana lied to me.”
I told you she hadn’t,the rat whispered in his head.
“Aye, and you were right,” Gael admitted. “However, her death was a major setback.”
Last winter Gael had approached Rithmar’s new High Enchanter. He’d heard she was frustrated by the weakening of the Order and sensed he’d found an ally. He’d been right. Ambitious and ruthless, Irana had been eager to join him. Together, they’d lift the Order of Light and Darkness to greatness.
Unlike Gael, Irana had been fluent in the old tongue and had agreed to translate the parchments he’d found. After a few weeks she’d sent word to him in Dûn Maras, letting him know she’d discovered how to utilize Stynix effectively and that she would explain all when they next met.
It was a pity she lost the Stynix she’d collected for us,Shade continued, her voice soft and sibilant in his head.I wonder what King Nathan did with it?
Gael frowned. Indeed, Irana had made a special trip up to the northern city of Errad to procure the mineral. It had been forbidden to mine Stynix for the past decades, but she’d managed to get hold of some. On the way back to The Royal City, other enchanters of the Order attacked her on the road and killed her.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, a sour edge to his voice. “As long as he doesn’t suspect I was working with Irana.”
Gael had already been in The Royal City, awaiting Irana’s return, when he’d heard of her death. He’d acted swiftly, cloaking himself in shadow and stealing into Irana’s study, to take back his parchments. He’d been bitterly disappointed to see that she’d left no written translation. Not only that, but he’d been forced to go into the mines of the Black Mountains to obtain a sack of Stynix for himself. The whole mess had put him back months.
So what does it say?Shade pressed, her whiskers twitching.How did Valgarth manage to utilize the mineral without killing all his enchanters?
“He discovered that mixing Stynix with equal parts of Thrace would neutralize the dangerous side-effects of the mineral without reducing its enhancement,” Gael replied, scratching his chin.
Thrace … that shouldn’t be difficult to find.
Gael leaned back in his chair and thought hard. If he remembered correctly, the mineral—mined in the Shadefells—was most commonly used in paint. Shade was right; it wasn’t rare. “Aye,” he murmured. “There’s sure to be a mineral merchant in Veldoras who stocks it. I’ll go out this afternoon and pick some up.”
Tucking the parchments back into their box and locking it tightly, Gael lifted Shade off his shoulder and placed her on the desk. Rising to his feet, he shrugged out his shoulders, which were knotted after sitting hunched over for hours.
Another wide smile stretched Gael’s face. His physical discomfort no longer bothered him, not when he’d found the answers he’d been seeking.
“It’s done.” He glanced down, meeting Shade’s crimson gaze. Then he reached out a hand so that the rat ran up his arm. “Come … a find this great needs to be shared.”
Saskia was leading the enchanters of the Light through their paces when Gael emerged into the courtyard. Some of them possessed surprising speed or flair.
Casting a glance across to where those of the Dark stood nearby, watching the drills, Gael noted that their expressions were no longer mutinous.
The first few days of training had nearly driven him mad, but yesterday they’d had a breakthrough. He’d thought about what these people really wanted—what he could give them. They respected their High Enchanter, but they grew increasingly frustrated with the hate and distrust heaped upon them by the citizens of Veldoras. If anything, the Anthor occupation had turned the populace even further against them, as if they were somehow to blame. It had made many of the Order bitter.
They owed the folk of this city nothing.
Gael had shown them the promise of a different future. He spoke of Reoul of Anthor’s plans for the Order. Under Gael’s tutelage they could become great again. Those who spat at them in the street would be punished. When they were ready, they would be invited to sit on the king’s council. They would have a say in the future of this kingdom.
They were audacious, yet empty promises—Reoul had said nothing of such things—but Gael knew he had to be bold. He had to give these enchanters something to work toward. They cared nothing for the glory of Anthor, only their own future.
It was understandable. Most folk were like that.
