Chapter 12

The Greatwinds find themselves before the Greatmage once again. This time, a wind strays far enough to absolve previous bonds and further splinter a family.

Chapter 12

           The fires burning in the Greatmage’s sanctum of Undershadow were all blazing. Even the torches along the wall, normally minor flames with little movement, were dancing with a rare fury. Antaleone the forty-ninth was on his stone throne, meditating as his firewall roared around him. A few flames whipped inward and caught his skin, a searing that exhilarated him. But there was no true joy in him now. There was only frustration and uncertainty. He hadn’t met Perriodon Nord in the flames for quite a few nights. It was cause for concern.

           The Greatmage waited, and he thought, and he absorbed the strength of the fire around him even as he himself expelled it. In his lap he held Leone’s Tome, taking it from his son for yet another session. The flames caught the parchment just as they caught the skin, but they did not catch fire. The pages were as bewitched as his pawn Nord, the sorcery of ancient mage power coursing through them. And the Greatmage was tapping into it with unrequited success. Each section of Leone’s Tome held the key to mysteries of fire sorcery that had long been forgotten and thought lost. It was time to bring them to light again, and the Greatmage knew that such was his destiny.

           Nord was his first accomplishment. It took time to penetrate the adept’s fire. The man spent plenty of time at his hearth. That was not the issue. Any Greatmage could be present in any fire, and any eyes can look upon that fire. Becoming the warmth was the real trick. As it ran through Nord, comforting him and weakening his mind and his senses until finally it entered the mind, the Greatmage did much the same. He gave Nord a sense of power, using a poor engineer as his own pawn in turn. Little did Nord know that he was a very minor part of the grand scheme. Perhaps the ally could be of use in the future, after he received sanctuary at Scorchfort and became more integrated. But it was the present that mattered now. And while the Greatmage wasn’t sure of Nord’s comings and goings for a few days, he was sure that the cogs were still turning. Lightning Bay’s time was coming towards its end.

           His phoenixes were growing exponentially in size and strength. Servants had gathered ashes from the forgotten caverns of Deadflame years and years prior. Those ashes were enchanted, a portion of the first flame living in them. The Greatmage’s two Majestics, one of which he bestowed unto his son, were born from the ashes. Once they were grown enough, they mated, and the first phoenix flock in recorded history was set to take flight. It was a sight that hadn’t been seen in this realm in centuries. Still it remained a secret. Very few people had heard of them, especially beyond Blazelands, and even less had seen them. They would serve as reminders to the entire realm that fire was always the greatest of the elements, and as enforcers to those foolish enough to think otherwise. His next fiery plot would be a delicate one. Unseen, it would ensure nothing less than complete submission.

           “Greatmage,” a voice came from behind him. He looked up unexcitedly, and looping around the outer rim of the fire came Arroyo. “Nassio Ryson, Liaison to Windhaven, has arrived. He awaits you above.”

           “Mmm,” the Greatmage murmured. “Have the servants shower him with a feast and drown him in firewine. I require more time.”

           “Yes, Greatmage.”

           “Tell me, Arroyo. In his face… could you read good news or bad news?”

           “Bad,” Arroyo said without hesitation.

           The Greatmage sighed. “Very well. Inform my son and Jannish that their presence will be required when I meet with Ryson.”

           “Yes, Greatmage,” Arroyo nodded before making his ascent back to the world above.

           The Greatmage waited, and thought, and burned.

           His chamber door stayed unlocked, but Gustavo had little reason to venture from his room. They no longer brought him food. So it was up to him to go fetch his own from the kitchens. Otherwise, he would have perished. It was no easy thing, leaving the small comforts to which he had grown accustomed. The fear that gripped him every time he reached for the door was still so real and present. His hand shook and his eyes stayed down. He knew that in the hall two guards waited for him. There was the rare occasion that only one guard was present. At first, Gustavo wanted to see this as an opportunity to gain the upper hand. He wanted to kill the single guard and escape. Then his logic snapped him back to reality. There was only one man with him at that moment, but he was surrounded not only by the entire might of Leonia, but the harsh vastness of the Blazelands and the hopeless void of the Great Chasm. Venturing out would end ultimately in death. The manner of it depended on how far he traveled.

           His family was still in Leonia, as well. He wasn’t sure of their conditions, or where to locate them, and the burden of leaving them behind would be too much to bear. His mother had already lost her husband and been separated from her sons. Gustavo wasn’t even sure if they allowed Zephyra to stay with her mother. It was likely she was a woman on the brink of death herself, a finality that would allow her to reconnect with her love. Perhaps that was the escape she desired.

           On this afternoon, Gustavo’s stomach beckoned him to eat. It had been two days since he had left his room. He had barely slept. He had barely moved. He only stared at the ceiling and thought, about his mother and his sister and his grandfather locked away somewhere and his brother. Gustavo was free to roam the halls of Leonia’s grandest edifice on the edge of the Great Chasm. At first he spent some time looking for his brother, peeking into every room he passed and asking random servants and guards for information. They all ignored him. He roamed the halls, surrounded by fire and men who could create and control it on a whim. Yet he felt such a cold distance from everyone. It was a taste of torture Gustavo had never known.

           He was angry that Samiel didn’t seem to have the same desire to speak to him. It was true that Gustavo would try to talk some sense into his foolish younger brother, so keen on his acceptance into this harsh world. And while Samiel wouldn’t want to hear that, he should still want to see his blood. It took a few days of helpless wandering and restless time in between for Gustavo to grow a disdain towards his brother that now seemed to go in both directions. Samiel was not an enemy, no, but he certainly was not a brother anymore.

           Gustavo rose to his feet and walked somberly towards the door. His stomach seemed to be trailing behind; it was so empty and weak. All of the food here was wretched, almost raw meat that the cooks prepared with reluctance at his request. He wanted to eat. He was sure that death would come soon, either driven by his own insanity or that of the Greatmage. But it wouldn’t be at the hands of hunger. His ending would be more memorable than that. There were two guards outside his door this time. One was sitting on the ground, his back against the wall and his head rolling back, waiting for sleep to take him. The other stood casually next to the door.

           “Where are you going, boy?”

           “The kitchens,” he said, looking up at the one who addressed him.

“We’ll bring you something,” the sitting man said.

           “I wish to get out of my room for a bit,” Gustavo lied. When he was in the room, he felt wrapped in a cocoon, trapped but comfortable, safe. But once he was out, he had no desire to return. Even though he was only a step beyond it, it was enough to renew the majority of his strength.

           “Very well,” the standing man said as the other joined him on his feet. “This way.”

           “No,” Gustavo said as the guard started leading the way. The other would walk behind him. “I’d rather go right.”

           “There are stairs leading directly to the kitchens below just around this corner,” he motioned to the left with his finger. “The other way only takes you to the next floor down. Either way we’ll end up back at the stairs that I’m taking you to.”

           “You’re not to treat me as a prisoner anymore. Those days are done. The Greatmage himself has granted me the rights of an allied visitor,” Gustavo retorted. “If you wouldn’t like to go right, I will go by myself. You have three options. One, escort me wherever I’d like to go within my limits. Two, force me back into my room and make me prisoner once more. Three, let me roam the halls by myself and stay here to rest. The last two options will require you to answer to the Greatmage, a thing I would wish on only a few select people, neither of whom is you two men. What is your choice?”

           The guard let out an annoyed breath and then looked at his partner. “Lead the way, you.”

           And so the man who was sitting walked, further from Gustavo’s room with every step. His tirade on the two men was invigorating. But now he had to act like he still had a purpose, a reason to lead these two men in a direction that most likely served no real purpose at all. Gustavo stood with his spine erect, his footsteps heavy and his arms moving back and forth with gusto. He let a lightness shine from his face, and he observed these ancient halls with a new, albeit mostly feigned, appreciation.

           “The stairs to the next floor down are left?” Gustavo asked curiously. “Or right?”

           “Right,” the man behind him said. “Only to the floor below, not the kitchens on the ground level.”

           “Yes, yes,” he waved him off. “My hunger has been replaced by a thirst for knowledge. How old is this… palace?”

           “It is no palace, child,” he sighed. “It is the great fortress built by Leone, the first man to harness the power of our hallowed element.”

           The steps were steep and the walls narrow. Gustavo had ventured down them before, but he walked slower this time. Each stone, he thought, likely had a story behind or within it. Some had cracks, others chips. A few looked untouched, while even more were missing chunks or had been blackened by fire. At the bottom of the stairs they emerged into a hall that was wider, with doors placed more sparsely in the wall. It was better lit, and had two servants and two guards roaming it at all times, or at least Gustavo had noticed. He walked down it at the slow pace that his first guard set.

           “Will you hurry it along, you dote?” the back guard pestered.

           The front guard stopped in his tracks and turned around. “What difference is it to you?”

           Gustavo took this pause to turn and look into the open doorway next to him. The double doors leaked into a large chamber whose furthest wall was nothing more than a waist-high barrier dug out of the Great Chasm. In the center of the room stood Alheena, her robe opened enough to expose one of her curvaceous breasts and her growing belly. In front of her, bent at the waist so his face was in line with the belly, stood Samiel. He had both hands on the bump, rubbing it slowly and softly.

           “Did you feel him yet?” Alheena asked. By this time, Gustavo had found his way to the threshold. The two guards took notice of his fixation and now stood behind him. “He kicks most often in the afternoon.”

           “Yes, I feel it,” Samiel said, smiling. “And you said… he?”

           “Mmm, yes,” Alheena relished.

           “How do you know?”

           “I am only a woman, unable to harness the power of fire. But it resides within me, and it courses through this child… this boy… and he will unleash it upon the world.”

           “He’ll grow to be a great man,” Samiel said, standing up to meet Alheena’s eyes. “One of knowledge and strength.”

           “Of wind and fire,” Alheena whispered as she closed her robes. “The first of his kind.”

           “The brother I never had,” Samiel whispered back.

           “You b*****d!” Gustavo shouted with a kneejerk reaction.

           They both turned to him. Alheena stayed where she was, but Samiel took a few steps forward, closer to his brother. He also shifted to the side a bit, standing in front of Alheena.

           “We’re both b******s now, Gus,” Samiel said coolly. “Father is dead.”

           “He still lives in me,” Gustavo said, tears forming in his eyes. They were born out of more anger than sadness. “Have you forgotten so quickly?”

           “I forget nothing,” he replied indignantly. “I adapt, and learn more, and strive for greatness. But I never forget.”

           “That child is an abomination,” Gustavo said through gritted teeth. “Even the simplest fool would know that. Father would�"”

           “Father planted this child inside Alheena, forsaking his vows to mother,” Samiel lashed out. “He will know his father no more or less than we ever did.”

           Gustavo lunged forward, avoiding the grasps of the two guards just before they caught him. Samiel planted his feet as Alheena backed up a few steps. The two boys collided, and their anger and disdain had to be equal. Neither got the upper hand. They struggled with each other, gripping robes and rags, spewing hate forth from their eyes as their faces reddened and their breathing hastened.

           “Guards!” Alheena screamed, just as they subdued Gustavo.

           They dragged him backwards, back to the doorway. Alheena came up behind Samiel and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

           “Take him from here!” she spewed. “I will speak to my father about the manner in which he will spend the rest of his days here.”

           Samiel fixed his robes as the two guards pulled Gustavo from the room, trying to calm him as they took him back the way they came. Alheena walked around Samiel to stand before him again. Their eyes locked, and Samiel found calmness and comfort surprisingly fast. Alheena brought her arms up over Samiel’s shoulders, lassoing his neck and pulling him in for a hug. Her belly, round and full, pressed against him, and there they stood, quiet and intertwined with a third heartbeat between them.

            Jannish D’Urian had arrived first to greet Nassio Ryson. Jannish was a natural entertainer with abilities rarely found in a mage without a long family lineage. His growth alongside the Greatmage’s son had allowed him to rise into the small circle closest to the great fire descendant. His appointment to caretaker of Leonia was an honor, but more so a duty. It meant he was expected to take on the accommodating of men such as the one sitting before him until such time as the Greatmage was ready to visit with him.

            Nassio wasn’t bad company. He was just underwhelming. He was a wind mage, one of the few who could access Leonia as he pleased. His true talents allowed him to be little more than a servant; only he was that to two lords instead of one. Nassio traveled more than anyone between the mage factions. Liaisons had the unenviable task of always being wanted in two places at once. The man’s mind was easily bent, but no one in Leonia was sure where his allegiance would lie if it were a matter of life or death. Jannish was certain that it lie with Leonia. The threat of a raging fire was more intimidating than the blowing of the wind.

            “Have you had the chance to see your family recently?” Jannish asked as a servant poured firewine into a goblet.

            “Not in months,” Ryson responded, swallowing his mouthful of food. “It’s been quite a busy time for our people. Exhilarating, really.”

            Jannish cringed at his phrasing of our people, but he hid it on the inside. “That is unfortunate. I’m sure that soon the Greatmage will be more than happy to grant you a leave to spend time with your wife and… daughters, correct? Still quite young?”

            “Yes, sir,” he nodded. “Six and three… nearly four.”

            “I hope the urgency of our business is subsided in time for you to see her turn four.”

            “Thank you, sir,” Nassio smiled as he took another spoonful of thick beef stew into his mouth. He chewed the tough meat, taking a gulp of firewine with it to help break it down more.

            “Ah, dear Nassio!” Antaleone exclaimed as he entered the dining hall. The future Greatmage looked joyous at the sight of the man. Jannish knew he was faking it just as much as he was, but he smiled along all the same, grateful that the mindless banter could come to an end.

            “Antamage” Ryson said, standing and bowing. “Greatmage.” He did the same as the older Antrum stepped into the room, Arroyo and Ayorro flanking him.

            “Please, sit,” the Greatmage said, taking his spot at the head of the table as his two guards remained standing behind him. “My apologies for the delay.”

            “Quite all right, sir,” Ryson said. “The food and wine were needed more than I knew.”

            At that, he backed away from his near-empty bowl. Two empty plates also sat in front of him. He was full, and jolly, but there was still a weight on his mind. All three of the fire mages sitting with him picked up on it.

            “What news from Windhaven, Ryson?” Jannish asked casually, wanting to get down to it much more than he showed.

            “Lord Enzio held court some days ago,” he began.

            “The usual issues?” young Antrum asked. “Grasses not high enough, grain not plentiful enough?” The group chuckled.

            “There was some commotion,” Ryson started, “at the beginning of the court. It was over the manner of Gale’s abduction… and her village… and Guyanno’s… demise.”

            “How did the commoners of Whisperwinds learn of this?” the Greatmage asked.

            “By blackbird, a few days prior,” he answered. “It told of Guyanno’s sentencing, and the plan to bring Gale and her daughter to Leonia. They were taken and the village destroyed just before the unit sent to procure their safety arrived.”

            “A blackbird sent from Leonia?” the Greatmage shook.

            “Yes, sir,” Ryson nodded. “There was a fear amongst the court that they would suffer the same fate as those villagers. Lord Enzio quelled those fears, and explained as best he could that Gale’s fate was tied to Guyanno’s, and his fate was that of a non-believer and traitor.”

            “Did that truly quell the fears?” the Greatmage leaned in.

            “For most, it seemed.”

            “Who was not convinced?”

            “Ruxson Chadwick,” Ryson answered. “And the Grandseer.”

            “Evest’s cousin?” Jannish prodded. “Both men are high in Evest’s ranks. Onvolio is the seer’s name, is it not?”

            Nassio nodded at the latter. “Guyanno is their cousin, too.”

            “Was,” Antaleone corrected. “Guyanno is dead.”

            “Where is this Ruxson now?” the Greatmage moved on. “In chains, I hope.”

            “He fled,” Ryson informed them.

            “Alone?” Jannish asked. He was growing weary of this back and forth. “Tell us it all.”

            “He fled with Onvolio, and four other wind mages,” Ryson said. “And two children, who escaped Gale’s village.”

            “When?” the Greatmage leaned in further. “And to where?”

            Ryson sensed the thickening tension in the room. “The day of the court. Onvolio took the children west, and Ruxson took the men north.”

            “Across the Retreat?” Jannish asked.

            “Their plan is to travel into the Blazelands,” Ryson said. “They seek Gale and the girl.”

            “That is folly,” Jannish grinned. “The girl is elsewhere.”

            “The priestess who informed us had spoken with Guyanno after he was sent out of court, along with the old man and the children. He moves in stealth, and our riders have not been able to trail them.”

            The room fell quiet. The Antamage and Jannish looked down at the table. Nassio looked back and forth between the three men. The Greatmage only glared at Nassio.

            “You will rest here tonight,” the Greatmage declared. “At dawn, you will ride to Windhaven with all the gusts behind you that you can muster. You will inform Lord Enzio that he and any other faithful men of the wind, and their women and families, are to come to Leonia and make the Blazelands their home. My phoenixes will fly them all over the chasm in turn. This exodus will prove to me their worthiness, and ensure their safety in the upcoming war. After that, and after this campaign into Lightwater, Craxell will spread his flames over Whisperwinds, and those who still call it home will suffer the same fate as the grass.”

            “War?” Ryson asked.

            “It will start at Greatfort,” the Greatmage said. “And end with all bending the knee. Deliver this news, and send our allies to me and to safety. Leave the rest to rot. Understand?”

            Nassio saw the fire in the Greatmage’s eyes. He knew the seriousness of it all. “Yes.”

            The Greatmage rose to his feet and walked away from the table swiftly, his guards tight behind him. Still at the table, the three remaining men stood next. They all nodded at each other, and after Jannish and the Antamage left Nassio by himself, he let out a deep breath of relief. He brought his robed arm to his head, and wiped the dripping sweat from his brow.

            Her dreams shifted from Guyanno to Zephyra, from loving comfort to harsh isolation. The conditions they had her in were bearable at first. She at least had her daughter. But since Zephyra had been taken away, Gale’s mind and her heart had started to deteriorate. The sun never shone and the weather never changed. It was depressing to look out the window. A plain gray slate blanketed the realm, much the same as it blanketed Gale’s spirit.

            Every day they told her she could do as she pleased, under the eye of guards. And every day she did the same thing, lying on her bed and sitting in her armchair. She counted the hours, the minutes, the seconds. Servants brought food and fresh linens and feminine scents to try and brighten her disposition. Still, the days dragged on and the nights were torture. There was nothing but silence to keep her company. The wind had never been very present in the Blazelands, but now it had disappeared all together. She hadn’t heard or felt it since Guyanno’s condemnation, something that seemed a coincidence at first. Gale’s breath seemed like the only moving air in all of Leonia. Even that was sparse and labored.

            The knocking on the door was unexpected, but wholly welcome. Gale was used to servants barging in at whatever time they pleased without warning. She got up from her chair, looking out the window to see the same dulling gray that hadn’t yet gone slate or black. It was the afternoon still. Upon opening the door she was greeted with Antaleone’s smug, serious face. Behind him stood the two guards that were often by her door, their expressions even more void of emotion.

             “Your presence is requested in Undershadow,” the next Greatmage said. “My father wishes to speak with the Greatwinds.”

            “My boys?” Gale asked, looking overjoyed while trying to present a look of skepticism.

            “They will be present, yes,” he answered, uninterested. He then turned and looked at the two guards. “You are relieved. Come now, Gale.”

            She walked behind him, looking about like a fascinated child, looking for one of her own. Her hall soon opened into a large antechamber. It was the grand entrance of Leonia’s fabled fortress, a circular spire with stone steps built out of the stone walls. Up and up they went, to the great looking tower. It was said to be the only place a man could stand and see the Great Chasm in all directions. Every time Gale walked through this area, she looked up, wondering if that were true, pondering if she would want to see the whole of the hole that swallowed her husband.

            “This way, Gale,” Antaleone said, grabbing her arm and guiding her, pulling her focus from the small black speck that the room turned into so high above.

            They walked back, deeper and deeper into the fortress, further and further from the great entryway. Steps always took them down, never up, and eventually there were no signs of the outside world. Windows were not dug out this deep. Air did not flow; it stifled. Gale felt herself wanting to choke, and nearly did when they reached the bottom of another long set of marble stairs. There stood Gustavo, his hands bound, the vigilant eye of Jannish D’Urian behind him. Gustavo did not see her, but Samiel did. His hands were free, his eyes roaming, Alheena and Skalla Antrum flanking his sides. Samiel glared at his mother for some time. At first she wanted to burst out and scream his name. But it didn’t take long to see that his face had changed. Not the features themselves, but the way he presented them. He held his chin higher, his eyes wider, and his mouth grimmer. Gustavo caught his brother focusing on something, and so he turned. Gale turned her focus to her oldest child, and in his face she saw the same burden she carried.

            “Gus!”

            “Mother!” he yelled, turning to face her just as she reached him to pull him in for a strong embrace. She kissed his cheek over and over and over and then put her hands on his arms.

            “Are you okay, Gus?”

            “Are you, mother?” he replied.

            “Yes,” she lied. “I’m okay.”

            “Hello, mother,” Samiel said casually.

            She turned. “You look well, Sam.” Alheena was grinning, rubbing her belly.

            “Kind of you to notice,” he said. “I’ve been treated well.”

            “You alone,” Gustavo snorted.

            “He belongs here,” Alheena sneered. “Never has wind been so welcomed in these deep reaches of Leonia. Not even your father’s.”

            There was a large round stone before them, and it began to open. As it slid sideways, Gale and Gustavo took their burning eyes off Alheena and watched as a wall of darkness greeted them. Skalla walked through the tension and headed into the tunnel.

            “Come now,” she said.

            Jannish walked in next, sure to push Gustavo along in front of him. The boy moved with a less ambitious gait. Antaleone led Gale in next as Samiel and Alheena brought up the rear. The group descended down, deeper and deeper, torches lighting and extinguishing as they approached and passed them. Jannish disabled the fire gates when he reached them and the group walked through the warmth that still radiated from the flaming wreaths. Fires roared in the large main chamber of Undershadow, and the Greatmage waited. Behind him, Ayorro and Arroyo held Greywind’s arms. The old man lifted his head at the sound of new footsteps.

            “Gale… boys…” he whimpered.

            “Father,” Gale said, admiring the man who had been more a father to her than her own.

            “Are they treating you well?”

            “They’re walking straight with no blood trailing behind them,” Alheena snapped. “We are not barbarians.”

            “Enough,” the Greatmage said, wanting to diffuse the situation before it grew. “Jannish, remove young Gustavo from his binds.”

            “Yes, Greatmage,” he obliged, undoing the boys’ hands. “I only wished to avoid another situation between the boys like�"”

            “I am well aware of what happened,” the Greatmage interrupted. “And I am more understanding of Gustavo’s actions than anyone would think. You’ll remember your brother, Jannish. Blood always looks the same but often flows different.”

            “The deserter,” Jannish whispered under his breath. “Coward…”

            “Why did you bring us here?” Gale interrupted, growing increasingly uneasy.

            “Dear Gale,” the Greatmage said, approaching the woman. “Your firstborn tried hurting your younger son, simply because he was showing affection to the child growing within my darling Alheena.”

            Gale looked at her son standing next to the pregnant daughter of the Greatmage. She felt sick, and wanted to shake with anger and cry out in despair, but she didn’t. She only looked back at the Greatmage and asked, “What of it?”

             “I only wish to seek a mother’s justice,” he answered simply. “Do you punish the son showing love to your enemy, holding onto his humanity… or do you punish the son destined to become a shell of a man, a weak and heartless wretch who already wishes death upon an unborn child? Which, Gale… which do you punish?”

            He had crept closer to Gale while he talked. She felt the heat on his breath. “Neither.”

            “Neither,” the Greatmage seethed. “That is the answer of perhaps the true great rogue we’ve allowed to roam these ancient halls. I wonder Gale, who is the man aiding you from here in Leonia? Is it Nassio Ryson, that swindling wind mage? Another of the small handful of wind mages we were foolish enough to trust? Or was it your son, the one who hates us so much, despite our hospitality, that he would jump at any opportunity to tip off the Windlord and the people of Whisperwinds? Or was it your other son, the one who fits in wonderfully and belongs here, but then proves it to be only a very wonderfully crafted mirage? Tell me, Gale. I think you know more than you’re letting on. The sooner you tell me, the lighter your punishment.”

            “But worse still for he who actually carried out the deed,” Skalla said with a cackling chuckle. “It must be that Ryson. Who else has such knowledge of our tactics in advance? Let him rest here tonight, knocked out on firewine, but don’t let him leave in the morning.”

            “Don’t let him wake at all,” Alheena suggested.

            By this time, the Greatmage had walked back to his original stance. “Boys,” he started, looking at the two young Greatwinds on either side of their mother. “You have been guests in Leonia for some time. Your allegiance long stood with Whisperwinds. Tell me what you know.”

            “I know nothing,” Gustavo said.

            The Greatmage turned to Samiel.

            “We were never privy to the goings on of Leonia. We were kept separated from everything. Our father sheltered us like lepers.”

            “You heard nothing of our plans to bring your mother and sister here? Nothing of your father’s condemnation?”

            “If I had, I would not have used a blackbird,” Gustavo spat. “I would have used a blade.”

            “Yes, how valiant and noble,” the Greatmage grinned. “And remember, that when I find out the truth, I will not use a blackbird, nor a blade, nor a public condemnation into the Great Chasm. I will use fire.” He started to pace back and forth. “I will start with Nassio Ryson, on the ‘morrow. And I will call innocent Zephyra back to Leonia, and she will be next. Perhaps by then someone’s tongue will loosen and�"”

            “It was me, you flaming fool,” Greywind said behind him, exasperated. “You thought that a prison could keep the great Greywind from a few blackbirds? They come out of curiosity at first, and then I feed them bits of my bread I store away at the end of every meal. It is easiest for a mage of the wind to bond with a creature of the sky, and even easier for a mage of my experience and skill.”

            “That may have been the wisest decision you ever made, you old fool,” the Greatmage said. He had closed in on Greywind as he spoke. “Your heroism, however, proves to me that no Greatwind can be trusted. Jannish,” he said, turning to meet eyes with him, “throw them all in cells. The deepest ones.”

            Gustavo started struggling at that, but Jannish was quick to subdue him and reattach the bonds to his hands. Antaleone bound Gale, who had simply started sobbing at the Greatmage’s decree. Alheena and Skalla remained still, Samiel between them, the look on his face unchanging.

            “All of them,” the Greatmage said. “Arroyo, the younger boy…”

            The unflinching guard paced towards Samiel. Alheena stepped forward. “Wait. He is no longer one of them.”

            “We thought the same of Guyanno,” the Greatmage dismissed her.

            “He thinks of me as a mother now,” Alheena pleaded. “And my baby as a brother.”

            “Boy?” the Greatmage addressed Samiel. The whole of the room was looking at him, Gustavo most intently.

            “I wish to absolve myself of all bonds with the Whisperwinds, but most importantly, my family. I am yours, Greatmage.”

            “B*****d!” Gustavo shouted, and Gale’s sobbing had turned to wild cries.

            “Gag him,” the Greatmage said, and so Arroyo stepped to Gustavo instead, nearly choking him with dense linen. “Prove it, boy.”

            Samiel stepped forward. “A windwhip, perchance?” His eyes were laced with malice as he glared at Greywind. The Greatmage nodded, and Ayorro moved to the nearest wall. On it hung a windwhip, a trophy from some forgotten conquest. Samiel soon had it in his hand and swirled it above his head in a great circle. “Aside, Greatmage.”

            And so the Greatmage moved aside, out of the path of the wind torrent young Samiel conjured and sent forward. Greywind, tears in his eyes, stared back at his grandson. Otherwise the old man’s face was etched in stone, a look of disappointment but acceptance. The windwhip sent the feeble Greywind off his feet, and he flowed with the moving air, like a leaf in a storm, out through the huge opening in the wall and into the Great Chasm. He wasn’t screaming, and whatever noise he made when he reached the bottom could not be heard. All that echoed through Undershadow was Gale’s crying, which had now brought her to her knees, and Gustavo’s inaudible slurs.

            “Arroyo, Ayorro,” the Greatmage said. “Take Gale and Gustavo to their cells.”

            It was as simple as that. With one crack of a windwhip, the family fractured even further. Perhaps it was broken altogether. Gale pressed herself as close to her last child as possible, but the two guards tore them apart and pushed them back out of Undershadow. Samiel returned to his spot by Alheena and Skalla. Jannish took a few steps closer to Antaleone. They all watched the Greatmage move closer to them, and as he did he spoke, trading glances with each of them.

            “Almost everything has fallen into place. Once Nassio Ryson leaves on the rising sun, it won’t be long until a great mass of Whisperwinds makes their way towards the Blazelands, where I can truly make them ours. However, Ryson will not be the only one dispatched from Leonia in the morning.”

            “Where would you have me, father?” Antaleone said, stepping forward with a bow.

            “You will go to Scorchfort, yes,” the Greatmage nodded, “and oversee their progress. I, however, will finally venture to the Shadow Islands.”

            “Shadow Islands?” Alheena gasped. Even the men in the room looked shocked.

            “With what purpose?” Jannish asked. “I thought that was a passing fancy, Greatmage?”

            “I wish to bring them to our cause,” the Greatmage answered. “Our success is hinged on their support. Their prowess in the sea is undeniable, and I can’t justify ignoring them.”

            “You will bring Arroyo and Ayorro with you?”

            “No. I wish not to intimidate the islanders. I wish to speak with their leader, and I wish to… persuade.”

            “It is folly, father,” Antaleone argued.

            “I will travel by my Majestic,” the Greatmage said calculatedly. “And I will fly to Scorchfort quickly thereafter, with the final piece of this puzzle ready to slip into place. And our enemy will not see the full picture until it is too late.”

            Antaleone looked at father, uncertain. “What of your man at Lightning Bay?”

            Frustration crept over the Greatmage’s face. “You are all dismissed.”

            They left, huddled in a small group, and the Greatmage immediately turned and walked back to his stone throne. He sat, and slowly raised his hands, and the fire rose with them. It surrounded him, almost engulfed him, but ultimately comforted him. He sank into his seat. His muscles relaxed, lastly his mind. It searched for Perriodon Nord’s presence, and soon felt it. The fire burst upwards, further blackening the stone ceiling, as the Greatmage grinned and prodded deeper into Nord’s exposed mind, returned from its brief departure.