‘You’re the Master Conjurer. Conjure it in your mind the place where the dragon landed us on Sorcerer’s Isle.’
Having no better idea, Laromendis closed his eyes and envisioned that location as best he could. Suddenly a shot of energy ran up his arm, causing him to jerk his hand away. ‘Ow!’
‘What?’ asked Gulamendis.
Shaking his hands a little, his brother answered, ‘Nothing. Just a little—unexpected shock. As if I had touched metal on a very dry day.’ Tentatively, he returned his fingers to the spots and said, ‘It’s not so bad if you expect it.’ Closing his eyes, he again tried to concentrate on Sorcerer’s Isle.
After a full minute he took his hand away and said, ‘No, something’s not right.’
‘What?’
‘If I knew, I’d be a galasmancer, not a conjurer.’
Gulamendis sat, opened the journal and began turning pages. ‘This is probably futile, but let me see if there’s something I’ve missed.’
His brother sat down a short distance away, content to wait and rest. While they had endured little physical exertion since escaping the battle with the demons, the stress and lack of sleep had taken its toll. Laromendis wished he could sit on something more comfortable than a rough patch of basalt. He ran his fingers over the finely grained dark grey rock and then inspected the edges. On the tips of the stone was a powdery dust and it glimmered with tiny fragments of crystal. He let his eyes wander over the landscape, noticing a glint of light here and there as the afternoon sun reflected off exposed outcroppings of crystal or rhyolitic glass. He could see a vein of obsidian running through the rock face not too far from his uncomfortable perch. Ages ago, water had started to seep through an interstice in the rocks, and at some point in time a portion of the hillside had slid away, exposing a record of this region’s geological history. The mineral riches of this violent place had drawn the taredhel here. He wondered if the demons had come for the same reasons, or if they had merely come because their enemies were here.
There were so many things Laromendis didn’t understand. From any perspective the war with the demons had been lost the moment it started, for the only magicians with demon lore had been the members of the Circle of Light. Only the few who had avoided the destruction of the Circle centuries before or those who, like his brother, had gleaned their knowledge in isolation, had survived to come to the aid of their people. Not for the first time Laromendis was visited by a deep, bitter resentment over the Regent’s Meet and their policies.
Perhaps Loremaster Tandarae was sincere, and some progress could be made, or perhaps it would only take violence to change things. As fatigue washed through his soul, Laromendis closed his eyes for a moment, as he realized his thoughts were academic unless his brother could come up with a way home.
He turned his mind to wondering what they would do if Gulamendis couldn’t activate this portal. Would there be any possible way home in the old taredhel fortress, many miles to the south? Even if there was a working portal, would it take them back to Hub? And if they got to E’bar, would death be awaiting them as they stepped through the portal? For the first time in years, he felt defeated.
‘I have it,’ his brother said softly.
Laromendis sat up straight and said, ‘What?’
‘I know why the portal isn’t working.’
‘Why?’
Rather than saying anything, Gulamendis scrambled a few feet to the base of the device and opened it to reveal the crystal. He removed the stone, then opened the small bag on his belt and took out one of the crystals he had taken off the dead galasmancer on Hub. He inserted it into the receptacle and closed the latch. Looking at Laromendis, he said, ‘Now try.’
Laromendis came to his feet, put his fingertips in the depressions and was instantly overwhelmed by images. He closed his eyes and said softly, ‘I see things.’
Gulamendis said, ‘That shock you received was designed to let anyone operating the device know that the crystal lacked sufficient energy to make the device work.’
Laromendis took his fingertips away and laughed. ‘Of course. There are no symbols, no markings, nothing…’ He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and saw tumbling landscapes. ‘I feel as if I’m flying over worlds,’ he said softly. ‘Desert, mountains, oceans…’
‘Try to steer it. Like a ship at sea.’