Sorceress Edna wasn’t shy about sharing her own. “This is bad, very, very bad,” she kept repeating until they had reached the castle, whose walls were charred and smoking from the fires caused by the fallen torches.
Aldwyn looked to the front of the grand hall, where the queen was standing at the head of a long, crescent-shaped table, five chairs to her left, another five to her right. The men and women occupying the chairs wore different-coloured wizarding robes, all distinct to their local region. Each was accompanied by their familiar – ranging from the common pot-bellied weasel to the truly bizarre wall-crawling dingo.
“Those ten sitting on either side of Queen Loranella are the council elders,” Dalton whispered to Marianne. “They represent each of the ten provinces of Vastia.”
The room itself was grand, with high-vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows, the largest of which depicted a swirl of silver dust rising up above the Peaks of Kailasa. Hundreds of notables had gathered to fill the benches that stretched in long rows across the hall. Wizards and non-spellcasters alike sat side by side, waiting impatiently for answers.
“The spirits from the Tomorrowlife have come back to curse us,” a voice shouted from the crowd.
“No, it’s an estriutus burst ,” another citizen interrupted.
“I’ll wager my goat farm that those ore miners in Kailasa struck a spell vacuum – sucked all the magic out of the world!” said a country villager. Aldwyn thought his theory even more desperate than the first two.
“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” said Queen Loranella in a steady voice that was comforting in spite of the gravity of the situation. “This is neither a cosmic event nor an accident. It’s a purposeful attack, and a focused one at that: not all magic has been displaced from Vastia, only that cast by humans. And it is no coincidence that animals have retained their gifts. I am certain that it is an animal who is responsible for bringing this dispelling curse upon our land.”
Aldwyn knew just who the queen was talking about.
“Paksahara,” Queen Loranella continued. “A spell so powerful and encompassing could only have been cast from the Shifting Fortress. And since she stole my wooden bracelet, Paksahara is the only one with the ability to harness its powers.”
Aldwyn had been told of the Shifting Fortress, a secret tower whose location changed each day. From the top of the Fortress, powerful spells could be cast that affected all of Vastia. He knew that while under the control of the queen, the Fortress had been used to protect the lands – but he shuddered to think how Paksahara would wield its ancient magic.
“Well, I will not just lay down my wand and give up,” a bearded wizard called from the crowd. “I’ll defend myself with sword, and shield, and bare fists if needed!”
“Urbaugh won’t be the only one. I’ll be at my brother’s side,” said another citizen in the hall, who definitely shared a family resemblance to the bearded wizard. “Who here is frightened by a carrot-eating hare anyway?”
Defiant laughter briefly lightened the mood. They wouldn’t be laughing, Aldwyn thought, if they had seen Paksahara’s skills of sorcery or the coldness behind her pink eyes.
“Her spell will never hold!” shouted a townswoman. “This will all be over by the morning’s sun.”
These boasts, as unsubstantiated as they might have been, still seemed to lift the morale of the masses and rally the hall.
Queen Loranella raised her hand to quieten the people. “I’d like to hear what the council—”
Just then, what sounded like nails scraping across a mirror screeched through the hall. Aldwyn looked up to see the circular pane of stained glass – the one that depicted the Kailasa mountains – begin to transform. The triangles of different-coloured glass began to shift, rearranging on their own to form a different picture – that of the grey hare,
Aldwyn looked to the front of the grand hall, where the queen was standing at the head of a long, crescent-shaped table, five chairs to her left, another five to her right. The men and women occupying the chairs wore different-coloured wizarding robes, all distinct to their local region. Each was accompanied by their familiar – ranging from the common pot-bellied weasel to the truly bizarre wall-crawling dingo.
“Those ten sitting on either side of Queen Loranella are the council elders,” Dalton whispered to Marianne. “They represent each of the ten provinces of Vastia.”
The room itself was grand, with high-vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows, the largest of which depicted a swirl of silver dust rising up above the Peaks of Kailasa. Hundreds of notables had gathered to fill the benches that stretched in long rows across the hall. Wizards and non-spellcasters alike sat side by side, waiting impatiently for answers.
“The spirits from the Tomorrowlife have come back to curse us,” a voice shouted from the crowd.
“No, it’s an estriutus burst ,” another citizen interrupted.
“I’ll wager my goat farm that those ore miners in Kailasa struck a spell vacuum – sucked all the magic out of the world!” said a country villager. Aldwyn thought his theory even more desperate than the first two.
“I’m afraid it’s worse than that,” said Queen Loranella in a steady voice that was comforting in spite of the gravity of the situation. “This is neither a cosmic event nor an accident. It’s a purposeful attack, and a focused one at that: not all magic has been displaced from Vastia, only that cast by humans. And it is no coincidence that animals have retained their gifts. I am certain that it is an animal who is responsible for bringing this dispelling curse upon our land.”
Aldwyn knew just who the queen was talking about.
“Paksahara,” Queen Loranella continued. “A spell so powerful and encompassing could only have been cast from the Shifting Fortress. And since she stole my wooden bracelet, Paksahara is the only one with the ability to harness its powers.”
Aldwyn had been told of the Shifting Fortress, a secret tower whose location changed each day. From the top of the Fortress, powerful spells could be cast that affected all of Vastia. He knew that while under the control of the queen, the Fortress had been used to protect the lands – but he shuddered to think how Paksahara would wield its ancient magic.
“Well, I will not just lay down my wand and give up,” a bearded wizard called from the crowd. “I’ll defend myself with sword, and shield, and bare fists if needed!”
“Urbaugh won’t be the only one. I’ll be at my brother’s side,” said another citizen in the hall, who definitely shared a family resemblance to the bearded wizard. “Who here is frightened by a carrot-eating hare anyway?”
Defiant laughter briefly lightened the mood. They wouldn’t be laughing, Aldwyn thought, if they had seen Paksahara’s skills of sorcery or the coldness behind her pink eyes.
“Her spell will never hold!” shouted a townswoman. “This will all be over by the morning’s sun.”
These boasts, as unsubstantiated as they might have been, still seemed to lift the morale of the masses and rally the hall.
Queen Loranella raised her hand to quieten the people. “I’d like to hear what the council—”
Just then, what sounded like nails scraping across a mirror screeched through the hall. Aldwyn looked up to see the circular pane of stained glass – the one that depicted the Kailasa mountains – begin to transform. The triangles of different-coloured glass began to shift, rearranging on their own to form a different picture – that of the grey hare,
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