Consequences (Majaos Book 2) Read online

  Consequences

  (Majaos Trilogy Book 2)

  Eilidh’s company of friends has splintered. Rochelle is hunting for clues in the magical capital, Merlyon, assisted by the strange old man, Artisho. The war is outside the barrier, the politics are on the inside...and the danger is everywhere.

  Phaer is returning to his people – the people who despise him. They’ll execute him and he knows it…unless he’s killed on the way. The obsidian dragon Loric is seeking the mysteries of the Penta Drauka quest, while silver Callie embraces her true self, but in these days of Ancient magic, the world can be a dangerous place…even for dragons.

  Meanwhile, Eilidh leads a band of four on a mission to a golden temple of the dead, at the behest of a sage known only as the Wise One. Will she find the answers she needs, the key to success…or just whole heap of trouble?

  They may fail, they may succeed, but either way…there will be consequences.

  Prologue

  Merlyn was the greatest mage in the world: a man of great wisdom and experience, but also one with a great responsibility, a great burden. The magic was dying. It had ever been a weak, insubstantial force in this world and now it was nearly spent. For years now, while others had made futile attempts to preserve or revive the magic, he had been scrying for a new home across the cosmos. The relocation plan was ambitious. He called it his Great Endeavour. It was little short of madness - something he had been accused of more than once. Now he was about to attempt something scarcely less ridiculous: a meeting with other magic users from across the world.

  Mages were a solitary, secretive people by circumstance if not by nature. They met rarely, if ever, and when they did it was not often a peaceful encounter. Merlyn believed that needed to change, especially now. Therefore he had sent a message out to wherever magic still clung to the world, seeking out magic users of all kinds. The message was cryptic, since he dared not risk revealing too much. It simply requested in the strongest possible terms, an audience on neutral ground that was sacred to them all: the Great Stone Circle. It was a prudent choice, since no mage would ever harm another within the Circle. Especially not at the time of the meeting: sunset - the time-between-times when it was neither day, nor night; neither dark nor light. It was imperative that this meeting pass peacefully.

  So it was, then, that at that sacred time on the appointed day, in that most holy of places, mages came from distances great and small, gathering at the behest of the wizard Merlyn. Some came because they feared or respected Merlyn. Some came because they believed in the concept of sharing magical knowledge. Some came to voice grievances or outrage at being summoned thus. Others came because they dared not risk a rival gaining an advantage by attending while they stayed away in ignorance. Still others came because they were simply curious. Motives were many, but absences were few and that was what counted in Merlyn's eyes. In the outside world, some of these mages were rivals - even enemies - but here they met in peaceful tolerance.

  Satisfied, and indeed gratified beyond all expectation, Merlyn strode into the crowd, coming to stand by the central standing stone as the last red and purple tendrils of the sun faded into black. Thus began the very first Council of Magic in history.

  “I welcome thee, one and all,” boomed Merlyn's deep, resonant baritone. He was dressed in a humble robe of coarse sackcloth dyed red in the blood of a sacrificial virgin lamb. It was by far the simplest garment of any worn by the assembled crowd. None would dare do otherwise. In all other walks of life in this world, status was symbolised by clothing. A rich noble wore expensive trappings to demonstrate his superiority over the simple farmer, who in turn wore greater finery than the hired stable hand, and so on down to the lowliest slave. In the world of magic, this worked in reverse. A novice would wear fancy attire, and gradually shed his earthly trappings as he grew in the magic. It also served a practical function - in many places, magic was reviled and those who practised it burned. The lack of earthly finery made it easier to move in the world unnoticed. They did not stand out in a crowd. Indeed, mostly they were paid little or no attention whatsoever. This suited the magic-users very well. Merlyn was the greatest wizard of his age and so he had shed all but the barest of earthly possessions.

  “Prithee, I beg thine indulgence for not sparing greater detail in my missive, but rest assured that this is a historic meeting of the utmost importance to us all.” “If it be thine intention to engender our fullest attention, Great One,” said a female voice, in a neutral tone, “then thou hast succeeded. What, pray tell, is this dire event of such universal consequence?”

  “Truly, madam, events are dire indeed,” Merlyn agreed. “The erosion of magic is happening slowly and quietly, not suddenly and forcefully, but that doth make it all the more dangerous. However, universal it is not,” he argued, “as ye will see. Let me be plain: I hath called ye all here to discuss the future. Our future. The future of all magic.”

  “It will be a short meeting, then,” said a derisive shaman from a land far to the South; a man with ebony skin, shaven head and a muscular upper body of which many a warrior would envious. “For I see no future at all for us or for magic in this world.”

  “Though thou knowest not, sir, thou hast squarely hit the mark. It is true that the magic of this world is dying and doth seek to take us with it, but perhaps it need not be so. That is what I hath asked thee here to discuss.”

  That caused a stir. Could it be true? They wondered. Had the Great Merlyn found a solution to their plight? Was it even possible?

  “Er...E-excuse me, er, ssir?” It was a nervous young apprentice from the land of the Cymru. Artemis by name, Merlyn recalled. “W-what a-answer dost thou pperceive?” “An excellent question,” Merlyn smoothed, encouragingly. A true apprentice was a rare th ing these days, since there appeared to be such a bleak future for magic. If only the lad could see true success in magic, it would do wonders for his self-confidence. In the meantime, a few simple words would have to suffice. “The answer is all around thee, or should I say, above thee. Look above; what seest thou?”

  “Why, I see only the night sky,” said the beautiful, exotic, raven -haired sorceress he had always found so beguiling. She hailed from the Emerald Isle just across the sea. “The stars in the heavens, like the jewels of the gods, so they are, aloof from our mortal concerns. What dost thou seest?”

  “I see as do you, Lady Ganieda. The stars in the heavens; but mere jewels they are not. I have discovered, as I long suspected, that each one is, in fact, a sun like ours, shining down upon worlds like ours. Like, yet unlike. Long have I gazed at the stars and probed for magic, for surely it must exist elsewhere. Alas, it would appear that magical worlds are rarer than I had hoped. Indeed, I was close to giving up when one day I was met.”

  “Met? Met by whom?” The voice was lost in the crowd and Merlyn could not see the individual to whom it belonged. He let out a long, slow breath as he considered his response. “'Tis not an easy thing to explain. Even now I know not what words will suffice. Let us simply call it a vision - no, a visitation; a visitation from...an angel of magic, perhaps.” He hid a private smile at his choice of imagery. “This `angel` didst guide my gaze unto a world of such magic as thou hast never felt before. A magic so potent that every living thing doth pulsate unto its rhythm. In this world, magic users such as we wouldst be a minority group no longer, distrusted and hunted, burned at the stake by society's majority. We wouldst be the majority!”

  “That sounds like a wondrous dream, aye that it does.” Ganieda softened her scepticism with the smile that danced in her green eyes. “But how do we know that is not all it is? Can you show us this world so we might judge for ourselves?” Privately, she was inclined to accept
Merlyn's word. He was nobody's fool and would not make such a wild claim if he could not back it up. He was ruggedly handsome, with short dark hair and a toned upper body. She often laughed to see the old man with long flowing white beard that was his favoured form in the world of ordinary mortals. They could not handle the truth that he was Emrys - Ageless. It was, according to legend, a consequence of the unique circumstances of his birth. His mother was of the long-lived Faerie race - as was Ganieda herself and young Artemis of the Cymru. Merlyn’s father had been the late, great Taliesin, Penderwydd - Chief Bard, who had possessed the power to move heaven and earth with his voice. Indeed, legend had it that Merlyn had, in fact, been stillborn and that his father sang his own life essence into his baby son, knowing the cost would be that of his own life. Who could say what effect this unique convergence of magic could have on a new human life? In times past he had been known as the Great Myrddin Emrys; Merlinus Ambrosius to the Latin speakers. Among magical circles these days, he favoured the form, Merlyn.

  Ganieda had met him long ago, in the forest near her father's home, when both were only barely out of adolescence. She smiled at the memory - he had not looked so regal then. He had just escaped from the Bean Sidhe; dirty, smelly and naked but for the skin of the wolf he had slain. Wolf Boy she had called him then, but she had been instantly fond of him. Years later, when her powers had grown beyond what she could hide from her people, Merlyn helped her fake her own death to end the witch-hunt. Perhaps if things had been different, the world more accepting, a romance might have been possible. Perhaps, if he was now suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting, there could yet be a chance. But she could not allow her feelings be known to others. There were those who would suspect collusion and refuse to listen on no further grounds than the fact that she was in favour. She had to at least give the appearance of scepticism, but still she could phrase it tactfully - play the diplomatic role. That was her best chance to help, she thought.

  “Thou art quite right, my Lady,” responded the great mage to her request. “In fact, I have prepared for thine eminently sensible point. Behold the world of Majaos!” The wizard gave the assembled crowd the co-ordinates for their scrying magic. So, they all looked for themselves and felt the magic emanating from that blue-green bauble so far away. Some insisted on performing a myriad of magical tests and Merlyn allowed them time and space to satisfy themselves. In the end there was only one conclusion that could be reached: Majaos was real and it surpassed all their expectations. That agreement was a start, but far from an end.

  “What hopest thou to gain from showing us this?” Someone demanded. “What do I hope to gain? Why, I doth propose to make this world our own!” There. It was said. No going back now. The genie could not be put back into the bottle. Now all he could do was sit back and wait for the inevitable reactions.

  * * * * * A stunned silence had descended upon the Great Stone Circle at Merlyn's revelation. Even for Ganieda, hearing the words had been profound. To leave this world and seek another, it was incredible, unbelievable! And not everyone approved. There were many objections. Some couldn't imagine that such an undertaking was possible. Merlyn insisted that while it was true that even with magic, one could not do the impossible, he was confident that a solution could be found if they worked together and did not waste their energies by focussing on the enormity of the problem.

  Another group were against interfering with another world. “There ar e people there. People who are different from us - not human. How can we know what effect we will have on them and they on us?”

  Of all the points, Merlyn had the greatest respect for this one. It was a valid objection, but he was convinced that in many ways these other races were not so different and strange as they first appeared. Merlyn and many others were excited and fascinated by the prospect of co-existing with these other races, sharing knowledge with them.

  Inevitably, there were those who would be conquerors, seeking to take this world called Majaos by force and enslaving the `backward` indigenous species. Merlyn was quick to make it known that any such attempt would be faced with his wrath. He wasn't naive enough to expect that to be an end to it, though. It was a danger that would have to be faced and fought if and when the interworld jump proved successful. One thing at a time. It was foolish to worry about tomorrow’s meal when today's predator was at the door.

  Some refused to believe that mag ic was dying at all. “Everything goes in cycles,” said a spokesman for that faction. “As the moon doth wax and wane, so the magic is surely waning only to wax again unto its full glory.”

  “How long would you have us wait, you great lummox?” Ganieda demanded. “A decade? A century? Until the beginning of the New Age? And all that time we act like the ostrich, hiding our heads in the sand, saying `All our troubles will go away by themselves, so they will`! Aye, and pigs might fly!”

  Of course, there would always be those who advocated the status quo. “We should take no action that might interfere with forces that we do not understand.” Merlyn had heard enough and called for order. “This is a momentous decision,” he declared, choosing to drop the archaic speechin favour of a more modern but still formal mode of address, “and ye all have thy points of view. I cannot force ye all to act if it is not thy will. But I am determined to seize this chance of a future for magic. It is my hope that those who think in a likewise manner shall remain here that we might pool our knowledge and experience of magic, to find a way to reach our new home. There is a time limit, for I fear the magic shall not survive here for much longer. If the magic falls below the level required for this spell, and we are still here, then we will have missed the boat. We will die here in a world devoid of that which we all hold most dear. I will not allow that to happen! I say that I and those with me, shall make the attempt ere the sands of time run out. We will succeed and embrace a new life, or we will die with honour, sure in the knowledge we did all we could. Those who wish to join me know this: I intend to depart this world with the fires of Beltaine next year. Those who wish to stay in this world, ye all are free to leave with the dawn, but ye shall have no part in our journey, successful or no. Decide and decide quickly: Work with me, take a chance with me, or leave and refuse to try, always wondering what might have been. Choose now.”

  As it turned out, it was not quite as simple as that. Merlyn, true to his nature, consented to allow those who were undecided three days and three nights to make up their minds, during which he and his followers did all they could to persuade them to this noble cause. In the end, of those mages who had attended the meeting, close to three-quarters chose to stay and work together. Taking into account those who were absent, Merlyn reckoned on a support of over two thirds of all magic users. The first session of the Council of Magic had begun with promise. Now all that remained was to make it a success.

  * * * * * The days lengthened and the wind warmed. The moon moved through its phases until one evening, as it rose full in the time-between-times, they made their final preparations. As dawn approached, they observed the rite, which marked the year reborn: the kindling of the Beltaine fire.

  On that day, all other fires were extinguished so that the Beltaine flame, pure and perfect, might be the mother of all flames throughout the year to come. Each year, in days gone by, this fire burned without cease, and anyone needing fire was given live embers from the Beltaine bed so that each settlement received warmth and light from the same pure source. These days, only the Learned observed the Beltaine ceremony.

  Those mages who had stayed to work on the Great Endeavour, gathered at the Great Stone Circle, watching with baited breath, waiting to see Merlyn light the Beltaine fire. They prayed it would light first time, providing a good omen for their flight to a New World. Merlyn's sackcloth garments were gone, replaced by robes of fiery red, covered in silver runes, golden pentagram medallion glittering along with the golden torc of a king that he wore, as they caught the light of the full moon. Omens good or ill, and they would still make the
attempt, for it was their one last hope of a future. “Better to die trying,” Merlyn had said, “than wither away here.”

  Accordingly, by the silvery light of the moon, they gathered the Nawglan, the nine sacred woods whose unique properties produced such wonderful benefit when brought together. They obtained a goodly quantity, which they bundled with strips of rawhide. In the centre of the Circle, they placed the bundled wood on a lamb's white fleece.

  Before dawn, the company assembled in prayer to the gods, lifting their voices to properly present the Nine Sacred Woods as the Nawglan offering:

  “Alder of the marshes we bring, Foremost in Lineage, for assurance.”

  “Hazel of the Rocks we bring, Seed of Wisdom, for understanding.”

  “Willow of the Streams we bring, Moon Goddess, for fertility.”

  “Birch of the Waterfalls we bring, Lofty Dreamer, for high-mindedness.”

  “Ash of the Shadows we bring, Stouthearted, for honesty.”

  “Yew of the Plain we bring, Bringer of Death, for rebirth.”

  “Elm of the Grove we bring, Great Giver, for generosity.” “Rowan of the Mountains we bring, Mountain Lord, for Justice.”

  “Oak of the Sun we bring, Mighty Monarch, for Benevolence.” They could not use magic to light the Beltaine fire - that would be to cheat the omens portended by the ceremony. Would the Beltaine fire be lit first time? In silence, then, there in the time-between-times they kindled the flame. Gripping the greenwood bow, Ganieda drew the gut line, spinning the length of rounded yew in the deep-cut notch of an oaken bole. At the first glow from the wood, Merlyn applied the dried plant called tan coeth, which caused the infant flame to burst bright and blush crimson - as if drawing life from the very air.

  Merlyn had done this countless times before. But this time, as he touched the tan coeth to the wood, the spark glimmered brightly for a moment, and then died in a wisp of smoke. Ganieda saw the flame fail and drew her breath in sharply; the bow fell from her fingers and her face turned white. Merlyn's heart lurched in his chest.