put its prototype equipment in place to siphon away the
power of the Threads, it would endanger the dome. The dome, according to Mrillis, had to be
dispelled and unwoven from the inside, from Lygroes, or the resulting chaos as it fell could not
only tear apart Lygroes, but damage the rest of the world. It could go back to the poisoned,
devastated landscape that had been Moerta and Flintan, the lost Encindi continent, before the
Rey'kil learned to tame and gather star-metal.
"You know, we always talk about great quests to save the world," Karstis said, when
Grego finished. "We never figure it will really happen."
"Brace yourself, Valor. You're being asked to pledge yourself to the service of the true
Warhawk. Emmi depends on you and Shalara to recruit and teach the others, and lead them down
the tunnel to Lygroes in two days. Can you do it for Emmi Rakkell, if you can't believe in
Emrillian Warhawk?"
Karstis' face grew stern, hardening, and his shoulders straightened. His gaze locked with
Grego's, then he lifted the browband to settle it on his forehead. To Grego's relief, green and gold
light shimmered, twining around the braided strands of star-metal, swirling around the decorative
knots at the temples.
"Two days. Don't start the war without me," Karstis said, and reached to shut down the
link.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Grego muttered, as he cut the link from his side and ran to
snatch up his bags. Other than the Archaics costume he wore now, all his clothes and armor and
weapons for the journey were already packed and waiting at the stables. He had come home to
gather up the tools he would need for his future duties: five datapads, extra power cells, and
duplicate data chips containing all the information he had spent moons deciding was needed to
teach someone just learning about the history of civilization.
Grego slung his bags over his shoulder and turned to leave. He tried to see his
comfortable home with all its modern conveniences through the eyes of someone from the time
of Athrar Warhawk. Someone who was used to magic to accomplish basic, everyday tasks,
might consider his technology crude and inefficient, or at best would be fascinated with modern
living with all its bright lights and odd sounds and toys.
"Estall guard us," he whispered, as he tapped the controls that would put the house into
power-save and security modes within five minutes after he walked out the door. If Kayn came
looking for him, it would take him a few hours to get in. That much of a delay wouldn't be much
help to the cause, but at this end of history, every little bit would help.
Grego was acutely conscious that the tunnel under the sea didn't just connect two
continents, but it stretched time at one end and sped it up at the other. Only two days of hurried
travel would take them to Lygroes, but by the time they got there, the fleet would be halfway to
the Death Zone, preparing to begin draining power from the Threads. The disappearance of one
of the scientists leading the project wouldn't do much to halt or slow the schedule.
For good measure, he took off his wrist unit, powered it down and left it in the
gardening shed at the edge of his property. No one could track him now, except by remotely
accessing and powering up his datapad. He would be leagues away, under the sea, hidden inside
a tunnel lined with star-metal, before anyone even thought of that tactic. And Mrillis' spells to
nullify all technology within and around the tunnel would heap more frustration on their
enemies.
Lights blazed only in the windows of the staff living quarters when Grego reached the
Rakkell house. With moonlight slanting down over the towers and crenellated walls, the old
house looked like a castle. Now that he thought of it, Emrillian would make a perfect captive
princess. Mrillis was a mysterious old man, the perfect reclusive wizard.
Grego would have enjoyed his fancy more if it hadn't been so very close to the
truth.
Movement and noise came from the
power of the Threads, it would endanger the dome. The dome, according to Mrillis, had to be
dispelled and unwoven from the inside, from Lygroes, or the resulting chaos as it fell could not
only tear apart Lygroes, but damage the rest of the world. It could go back to the poisoned,
devastated landscape that had been Moerta and Flintan, the lost Encindi continent, before the
Rey'kil learned to tame and gather star-metal.
"You know, we always talk about great quests to save the world," Karstis said, when
Grego finished. "We never figure it will really happen."
"Brace yourself, Valor. You're being asked to pledge yourself to the service of the true
Warhawk. Emmi depends on you and Shalara to recruit and teach the others, and lead them down
the tunnel to Lygroes in two days. Can you do it for Emmi Rakkell, if you can't believe in
Emrillian Warhawk?"
Karstis' face grew stern, hardening, and his shoulders straightened. His gaze locked with
Grego's, then he lifted the browband to settle it on his forehead. To Grego's relief, green and gold
light shimmered, twining around the braided strands of star-metal, swirling around the decorative
knots at the temples.
"Two days. Don't start the war without me," Karstis said, and reached to shut down the
link.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Grego muttered, as he cut the link from his side and ran to
snatch up his bags. Other than the Archaics costume he wore now, all his clothes and armor and
weapons for the journey were already packed and waiting at the stables. He had come home to
gather up the tools he would need for his future duties: five datapads, extra power cells, and
duplicate data chips containing all the information he had spent moons deciding was needed to
teach someone just learning about the history of civilization.
Grego slung his bags over his shoulder and turned to leave. He tried to see his
comfortable home with all its modern conveniences through the eyes of someone from the time
of Athrar Warhawk. Someone who was used to magic to accomplish basic, everyday tasks,
might consider his technology crude and inefficient, or at best would be fascinated with modern
living with all its bright lights and odd sounds and toys.
"Estall guard us," he whispered, as he tapped the controls that would put the house into
power-save and security modes within five minutes after he walked out the door. If Kayn came
looking for him, it would take him a few hours to get in. That much of a delay wouldn't be much
help to the cause, but at this end of history, every little bit would help.
Grego was acutely conscious that the tunnel under the sea didn't just connect two
continents, but it stretched time at one end and sped it up at the other. Only two days of hurried
travel would take them to Lygroes, but by the time they got there, the fleet would be halfway to
the Death Zone, preparing to begin draining power from the Threads. The disappearance of one
of the scientists leading the project wouldn't do much to halt or slow the schedule.
For good measure, he took off his wrist unit, powered it down and left it in the
gardening shed at the edge of his property. No one could track him now, except by remotely
accessing and powering up his datapad. He would be leagues away, under the sea, hidden inside
a tunnel lined with star-metal, before anyone even thought of that tactic. And Mrillis' spells to
nullify all technology within and around the tunnel would heap more frustration on their
enemies.
Lights blazed only in the windows of the staff living quarters when Grego reached the
Rakkell house. With moonlight slanting down over the towers and crenellated walls, the old
house looked like a castle. Now that he thought of it, Emrillian would make a perfect captive
princess. Mrillis was a mysterious old man, the perfect reclusive wizard.
Grego would have enjoyed his fancy more if it hadn't been so very close to the
truth.
Movement and noise came from the
Similar Books
