Therelin 48

The first summit of Tempest Tower was held in the courtyard, amid the tents and campfires that assembled before the steps into the Keep. Therelin, joined by Maia and Kren, joined the crowd of magicians. They noticed Devender standing near Irrith—another familiar face from the Isle of Dusk, though Therelin had never spoken to the high-ranking Conclave mage. Master Byranim, standing closer to the steps, gave Therelin a wave when he noticed him.

Atop the steps stood a few guests of honour, including their hostess, Mistress Lathien of the Tower. As one of the preeminent sorceresses on the Council, the late-middle-aged woman was dressed in an intricately embroidered shawl, draped over a steely blue robe. Therelin recognized Grand Mage Rattar standing next to her—hairless head and wrinkled features unmistakable. The second man was unknown to Therelin, and much younger than the former.

Mistress Lathien began with some introductions. “Welcome, all. I am Mistress Lathien of the Tower, and we are joined today by Grand Mage Rattar of Numa’nakres and Master Droelin of the Circle.”

Therelin raised his eyebrows and glanced at Maia. She seemed just as surprised. The Circle, as Therelin understood it, was not frequent at public meetings, even among magicians.

“It has been a tumultuous—nay, disastrous—year for our kindred,” Lathien declared, moving into her opening remarks. “First, we’ve witnessed the outbreak of war and chaos the likes of which haven’t been seen in decades. Then our most sacred place was attacked by a veritable warlord and many of our brothers and sisters lost. Now, we face prosecution across all the lands as the Tether has faltered and word of our works has spread. Just yesterday we received news of witch-hunts at the Eye of Maga, while Master Droelin has told us of fresh unrest in Varravar against his fellow rulers and him.”

Therelin took the news in stride. It was concerning that magicians who had done nothing manipulative might suffer due to the consequences of those who had, but he was not surprised that the loss of the Tether was causing such chaos.

“And what of Master Gravagan?” Conclave mage Irrith called out. “Has no one seen or heard from one of our most reputed magicians?”

Someone else taunted: “More like ‘most controversial.’”

“I would turn that back on you,” Grand Mage Rattar said, before Irrith could respond to the haggler. But then it dawned on everyone that he was not looking at the haggler, but at Irrith. “What did your master know of Tarro, before all this began?”

“Gravagan knew as little as the rest of us—next to nothing,” Irrith retorted.

The debate lulled a moment, but Therelin could stay silent no longer. He boldly offered his voice: “I believe I can supply some information as to Tarro’s background.”

Kren groaned, as all eyes turned on them.

Lathien looked down the steps at Therelin with raised eyebrows. “I was going to rein this back in, but this is one of today’s topics. We must all share what we know. Please—it’s Therelin of Keth, correct? Go ahead.”

Therelin smiled and gave a bow of his head to all the onlookers. “It is,” he said, of his name. “I’ve only been researching this since the attack on the Isle. Since then, I’ve learned that Tarro was one of Bal’nored’s apprentices.”

“Bal’nored?” someone asked, their voice astounded.

“Next it’ll be: ‘Tarro is more legend than man,’ just like his master,” mocked another in the crowd.

“Do you have proof of this?” asked Master Droelin, his first words in the summit. He was a middle-aged man, with the first signs of balding in his brown hair. He looked at Therelin without disrespect—but rather with honest curiosity.

Therelin had to move on—he could not prove the existence of Bal’nored. “Regardless of the truth about Bal’nored, the stories I have uncovered link Tarro, Bal’nored, and a place called the House of Kiaraka. And I have found irrefutable proof that Tarro was there for many, many years.”

This time, the crowd was silent. The House of Kiaraka was new to them, unlike the eclectic stories of Bal’nored.

Therelin took a deep breath. “Lord Gallendris of Noress-That-Was tracked an assassin from his homeland to the House of Kiaraka, where he crossed paths with Tarro, before any of this began. The result of this meeting was the burning of the House of Kiaraka,” he revealed. “Just this year, Lord Gallendris was murdered by assassins. We have no proof, but it seems to be that his death was at Tarro’s hands—revenge. Now Tarro wages war and boasts of building an age devoid of meddling across borders. This attack at Kiaraka—however unreasonable—is what drives him.”

All at once, the crowd started peppering Therelin with questions. “How old is Tarro, then?” asked one voice. Another demanded, “Well, is he done fighting, since he killed Gallendar—Galleniss?” A third asked, “Who struck first—Tarro or Gallendris?”

“Order, please,” said Grand Mage Rattar. He did not raise his voice, but his tone cut through all the others and silence fell again. “Lathien, with your permission—why don’t we take a short recess? We should speak to this Therelin in greater detail before proceeding.”

“It is an open forum, but there is much to consider,” Lathien said. She mulled it wordlessly for a moment, then looked back down at the crowd of magicians. “Therelin? What do you think?”

Therelin looked around at all the wanting eyes. “For those of you with questions, I have told you more or less all that I know. I only researched this for a short time—since the attack on the Isle of Dusk. But perhaps a recess is in order, to assess what path we should pursue.”

“Very well,” Lathien decided. “If you’ll join us?” she asked Therelin. Then addressing the gathering, she said, “To the rest of our guests: do not wander far. We’ll resume soon.”

Therelin looked at Maia and Kren, but it was clear the masters wanted to speak with him in private. Kren patted his shoulder and wished him, “Good luck,” which just provoked Maia to grin. It wasn’t likely Therelin would face any danger.

He followed the three mediators within the keep, where they found an empty study room to house their discussion.

“Therelin—my name is Droelin,” said the Circle magician, as soon as they were within. “Thank you for speaking with us.”

“I am Rattar,” introduced the Grand Mage.

“Thank you for including me in the summit,” Therelin said, timidly.

Lathien sat at the table in the room and looked at him. “So, you have been on quite the quest for information, it seems. Bal’nored was a risky way to begin the story. There is much speculation about his reputation.”

“It was risky,” Therelin admitted. “But it was a story about Bal’nored that contained the first—and only—mention of Tarro’s name. It so rarely appears in writing.”

Rattar was listening broodingly, chewing his lip.

“Was it an account that Bal’nored still lives?” Droelin asked. “Or is Tarro that old?”

“The account I read referred to events over a hundred years ago, where Bal’nored met Tarro as a child and took him to be his apprentice. However, there isn’t much more detail than that. The source was mostly focused on Bal’nored’s adventures.”

“It mentioned Tarro by name?” Lathien repeated, raising an eyebrow. “It seems impossible to refute this, then. Rattar, do you know anything about this? Your Emperor is believed to be as unaging as Bal’nored—and, we are now to believe, Tarro.”

Rattar took a deep breath. “I dreaded this, but I ought to be as frank as our valiant young friend,” he said, giving Therelin a nod. “I am growing concerned for my Emperor’s safety in all of this. Indeed, that is the very reason I have ventured east from my homeland.” He seemed uncertain if he could—or would—say more.

“This fight against Tarro is for everyone’s safety,” Therelin explained. More secrecy, he thought, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. “Is your Emperor’s safety more important than everyone else’s?”

“Yes, it is,” Rattar said, bluntly. He sighed. “My homeland has seen 300 years of peace, solely because of Emperor Tag’na. This war with the Great Isle is severe, yes, and I hope to end it—but ending this war will not end the conflicts that plague this part of the world. The defeat of Tag’na, on the other hand, would mean the onset of conflict in my part of the world.”

“And if the rest of us are defeated, you believe Tag’na alone could fend off Tarro’s armies?” Therelin demanded, incredulously.

“No—which is why I am here, ensuring that Tarro is stopped,” Rattar growled, growing fierce. “Mind yourself with me, youngling! I was the one who stopped Tarro from killing everyone on the Isle of Dusk. If I believed in doing nothing, I would not have left the comfort of my home—and all those I hold dear!”

Lathien raised her hands. “Friends, please,” she interjected. “Let’s keep in mind that we are on the same side.”

“Let us, then,” Rattar repeated. He shook his head, as though to clear it. “I only meant to say that I do not want my master’s weaknesses divulged to the public.”

Therelin, feeling somewhat chastised, offered: “I did not mean to press in that regard, Grand Mage. I only meant to keep in mind the good of us all.”

“I understand that,” Rattar said, with a nod. “Perhaps consider it this way then—it would not be in the greater good for my Emperor’s secrets to be released to a land of schemers. We must not allow the downfall of Tarro to also be the downfall of Tag’na.”

Therelin understood the dangers of revealing Tarro’s powers—he would not want a dozen more to spring up in Tarro’s stead, nor did he wish any harm to befall the Emperor of Numa’nakres. But he knew in his gut that no Emperor’s life was worth thousands of others. That being said, he did not know how to respond. Rattar was his senior in age, perspective, and skill—and he knew Rattar wanted to do good in their fight. Debating the point further seemed like it would devolve into an unproductive conversation about politics, so Therelin instead said, “I can appreciate your stance, but Lathien is right. We had best move on and decide what to do with all of this.”

Droelin, however, was not done with the last point. Deep in thought, he murmured, “So, do you know Tarro’s weakness?”

An uncomfortable moment of silence followed, then Rattar answered, “I do.”

“Will you reveal it?” Droelin asked.

Rattar sighed. “Only if it becomes obvious that that is the only way to defeat Tarro, once and for all.”

Droelin inhaled aggressively, clearing unimpressed.

Full of frustration, Therelin had to remind himself that Rattar was their best defence against Tarro at the Isle—his contribution to defeating Tarro should not be overlooked.

Seeing even Lathien shake her head, Rattar raised a hand. “Listen. Tarro must be on the defensive now—he may even be dead, after the Isle of Dusk. The next step in his downfall is not a battle of magicians—it is the defence against the madness Tarro incited. When the time comes to kill him, I will be there.”

“And if—though I do not will it—you fall, before then?” Lathien asked.

“These secrets will not die with me,” Rattar assured them. “I will pass them on, as soon as I deem it too dangerous not to. And—if you so doubt my judgement—I am not the only one who knows them. Seek out Emperor Tag’na. If Tarro is my death, he will be eager to aid you.”

“I respect your position, but again, I agree with Lathien,” Therelin said. But he knew they could not sway one as powerful as Rattar. “That said, if these secrets would not be lost in the event of your untimely demise, I am content to move on.”

Droelin let out his pent-up breath. “Very well,” he said, impatiently. “Our plan was to exploit what we learn about Tarro, but it seems that is no longer the ideal path. So, Rattar, how do we ‘defend against the madness’, as you said?”

“That is why I am here,” Rattar murmured, relieved to be moving forward. “I had hoped to find Gravagan in Saanazar, but no one seems to know his whereabouts. I apologize, Lathien, but I cannot stand him—still, I had hoped his multitude of connections would help us form a war plan with the allies of Radregar.”

Lathien smiled. “He is an acquired taste—and one I dearly hope is not lost,” she said.

“Without him, I came here in search of such plans,” Rattar explained.

“I agree this is the right way forward,” Therelin offered, but he felt quite out of his depth. He had provided the answers they wanted, which was, he imagined, the only reason he was within their privacy. “With my experience, I can’t speak much more about war plans and such, nor about Gravagan…but much has come of my efforts to seek information about our enemy. I think we should continue dedicating some of our resources to similar endeavors.”

“I think that rings true, no?” Lathien asked, drawing nods from the others. “But it’s probably time that these plans are brought back to our peers, if you all agree?”

“Very well,” Droelin said. “We’ll posit that some of our brothers and sisters focus on aiding the allies, while others continue investigating Tarro?”

This drew a scowl from Rattar, but he could not force them to turn a blind eye to Tarro. In the very least, they ought to uncover what had come of his defeat on the Isle of Dusk. Therelin followed the powerful wizards back out to the courtyard, where the crowds quickly regathered. The rest of the summit unfolded as they had suggested—with the foundations of a few plans, each focusing on a different goal. By the end of the meeting, the organizers were dividing magicians into teams.

It felt like progress, but Therelin again felt discouraged. Would he one day have to quest to Numa’nakres to uncover Tarro’s weakness from a proper Emperor? It seemed secrecy bounded these magicians at every turn.

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