WINTERDAY, 5E1010
[THE FINAL YEAR OF THE FIFTH ERA]
As the snow blew and a chill wind rattled the sides of the barn, with cold air drifting in through the cracks, Pipper ran up the long slant of the rope tied between the first stall and the hayloft above the far end. Binkton, not needing to look at the five balls he kept in the air, their graceful arcs crisscrossing and not colliding, watched as his cousin made the ascent.
“Well and good, Binkton,” said Uncle Arley. “Give them over and we’ll revisit your sleight-of-hand skills.”
Binkton waited until Pipper reached the top and alighted on the loft and turned and bowed to an imaginary audience below. Then, one after another, Binkton let fly the balls to Arley, the eld buccan gracefully catching each of the colored spheres and dropping them into the box at hand.
Pipper then slid down the length of the line and backflipped to the floor planks just ere reaching the end.
As Pipper stepped over to watch, Arley said, “ ’Tis claimed the hand is quicker than the eye, yet I say, not so. Instead, the art of successful legerdemain is twofold: distraction and a stealthy touch, like so.-Oops!” Arley dropped a fetter that fell with a clang, and both Binkton and his uncle bent down to pick it up. As the stripling rose with the irons in hand, Arley said, “Thank you, bucco,” and he took the shackles while at the same time giving over to Binkton the lad’s own belt.
Pipper laughed and clapped and said, “Nicely done, Uncle.”
Somewhat embarrassed, Binkton scowled as he rethreaded the belt through the loops on his breeks.
“Now, since there are two of you,” said the eld buccan, “the filcher can slip the taken object to the other, and, when accosted, the filcher can show he hasn’t got it.”
Arley then demonstrated how this was done, this time using Pipper as the dupe.
For the next candlemark or so, uncle and nephews practiced this form of trickery, until Arley seemed satisfied that they had got it right; then they moved on to other sleights of hand.
Time after time, Arley put the striplings through their paces, as he had been doing ever since they had come to him, or so it seemed. With both sets of parents lost in the raid upon Stonehill some four years back, he had inherited these two rascals, being their only remaining kin, and a granduncle at that. It was when he had shown them a few of his skills that they had insisted on learning all he knew, after which, they maintained, they would see the world.
Oh, well, perhaps someday they would, yet Arley hoped it would be in different and less perilous circumstances from those in which he had done.
And so, he set out to teach them all he knew of the picking of locks and pockets, of misdirection and stealth and guile, of walking upon ropes and swinging through the air and other feats of aerial skill, of trickery and sleights of hand, and of making something seem other than it was.
“All right, buccoes,” he finally said, “that’s enough for the day. Now, let us go have some warm soup.”
With that, they made their way through wind and snow to the stone cottage at hand, a cottage a league or two north of the small town of Rood in Centerdell, the Bosky.
10
NEXUS
WINTERDAY, 5E1010, TO YEAR’S START DAY, 6E1
[THE LAST DAYS OF THE FIFTH ERA,
TO THE FIRST DAY OF THE SIXTH ERA]
On Year’s Long Night the brigade of Elves at the Black Fortress held no ceremony to celebrate the passing of the seasons. Instead, throughout the day they had gathered the dead and laid three great pyres outside the killing grounds: one for the fallen Elvenkind; a second for the slain Mages; and a third one for Black Magekind as well as the corpses of the Foul Folk, including those mutilated cadavers found in the vile sanctum below. Too, Healers tended the wounded, bearing some back across the in-betweens for further treatment in a less noxious place than Neddra.
That night under the black moon, Elves sang their slain into the sky; Mages mourned their fallen by conjuring brief images of each within the flames to rise in the smoke and vanish; none shed any grief whatsoever for Black Magekind or Foul Folk.
The following day, messengers were sent beyond the in-betweens, and Mages came to replace those who had been slain and those who had expended much of their ‹fire›, the latter to return to Vadaria to ‹rest› and regain their life essence. Aylis was not among those who had spent a deal of her ‹fire›, for the conjoinment of her nine for her aethyrial spy mission had spared her greatly. So she stayed at the fort with Aravan to help with whatever she could. Elves also came to replace those of their Kind who had been slain. Supplies as well flowed to the fortress, for much would be needed to maintain the outpost.
Bair had crossed into Adonar, where swift Hunter loped toward another in-between, a difficult crossing that connected the circle of stone to its counterpart on Mithgar. Yet Bair planned for Hunter to pause at any Elvenholts along the way to the stone circle; at these the Silver Wolf would briefly become Bair to spread the word of the victory. But at the stone circle in Adonar, Bair would step in-between unto the land of Lianion, now called Rell. From there Hunter would head north, intent upon reaching Arden Vale, where he would tell of the fall of the fort and name the casualties taken. It was in Ardenholt where Riatha and Urus waited, for they had taken on the task of governing the vale while Inarion and others joined the assault on the Black Fortress.
Even as the word went forth across Adonar and Mithgar and Vadaria, the allies on Neddra spent twelve full days-all the days of Yule-making the Black Fortress habitable: Animists sent the ubiquitous vermin to flight, rats and mice scrabbling away, while insects and serpents and worms and spiders went flying and scuttling and wriggling after, a veritable horde of fleas and lice coming last. Elves carted various items out into the lands beyond and set them ablaze, although they retained serviceable furniture. After chambers were temporarily emptied, Alamar and his kind then scoured them with vortexes of boiling water. And as the fort was cleansed, Alchemists and Seers examined the abandoned tomes and scrolls and other writings, as well as the devices found in laboratories and various chambers, keeping some, destroying others, setting others aside for further study. Seers also used their powers of ‹sight› to sweep the corridors and rooms for hidden doors and panels and such, and in this manner they discovered the escape passage most recently used by a long-haired Black Mage. Where he had gone, none knew, though they managed to ‹see› his flight out and away and south to the in-between to Mithgar. After that he had used his own power to completely obscure his trail.
When the fortress was clean enough to be lived within, Elves moved furniture back into chambers, and all settled into their assigned duties.
The battle had begun and ended on First Yule, the day of Year’s Long Night, and now it was Last Yule-Year’s Start Day-the first day of the first year of the Sixth Era. And after dinner on this new beginning, Arandor and Alamar sat down to review what was yet to be done, Aravan and Aylis joining in.
Alamar poured each of them a glass of dark Vanchan wine from a bottle he had been saving for the occasion.
“To victory,” declared Alamar, lifting his goblet.
“Aye, to victory,” replied Arandor, raising his own, but Aravan looked into his glass and added, “And to absent friends.”
Arandor took a sip and then said, “We’ll not hold this fortress unless we remain vigilant and well supplied.”
Alamar nodded but said nought.
“Logistics,” said Arandor. “Food and drink are now coming in from Adonar along with a supply of arrows and other such armament. Vadaria, too, is sending goods. Yet, Alamar, art thou certain that Magekind can do nought
