‘I must leave you now and share this news with the other three Eminences. I command you to carry on cleaving the piece of raw moonstone. Bespeak me at once with the results of the operation.’
He slithered out of the workroom with surprising rapidity and made his way to the castle’s Chamber of Audience – formerly the Conjure-Queen’s throne room – where his colleagues were in conference. Almost all traces of human occupation had been eradicated from the Mossland fortress of Fenguard by its new inhabitants. The doors were now enlarged to allow ready access to huge bodies and the windows were smaller to conserve the delightful boggy ambiance favored by Salka sensibilities. A coating of black mold softened the harsh stonework of the stairways and passages; rusting iron wall-sconces that once supported torches or oil lamps now held amber globes full of luminous marine organisms; the floors of the public areas were carpeted with decaying reeds and sedges from the fens, while the private rooms and the Chamber of Audience had more desirable floor coverings of fragrant kelp and other algae.
The erstwhile royal dais, lit by pendant bowls of glow-worms, had been enlarged to contain the seaweed-heaped golden couches of the Eminent Ones. These were pushed to the very edge of the platform so that the reclining Salka leaders could study a large map laid out on a low table crafted of whalebone. The map, a three-dimensional work of art depicting High Blenholme Island in relief, was an ingenious mosaic of sea-unicorn ivory, pearl-shell, and many-colored amber. Its rivers and bodies of water were indicated by shining bits of turquoise or lapis, and the salient features were labeled with small gold plaques. Golden figurines of miniature warriors – some Salka, some human, and some mysteriously shaped – were scattered about the map surface. Model ships, as intricate as fine jewelry, clustered in separate flotillas on the lapis sea.
As Kalawnn entered, the four persons bent over the map lifted their great heads. The aged Conservator of Wisdom looked vaguely startled, the First Judge bestowed an ironic smile of greeting, and the Supreme Warrior, mighty Ugusawnn, seemed even more truculent and grouchy than usual. The fourth Salka, a sage of middle rank who had been pushing the tiny figures about the map with a golden pointer and lecturing the Eminences, bowed his head to Kalawnn and stood in a respectful pose. The Master Shaman recognized him as Peladawnn, a military strategist.
‘You may leave us,’ the shaman commanded. Peladawnn nodded and wriggled off.
‘Well, colleague,’ the Supreme Warrior rumbled, ‘it’s high time you condescended to join our little planning session. I was just about to explain my new idea for breaking the impasse at Beacon Lake.’
Ugusawnn had returned from the encampment a tennight earlier when it became evident that the army’s advance was hopelessly stalled, leaving his subordinate generals to manage the tedious holding action.
‘I’d be most eager to hear your plan,’ the Master Shaman said. ‘But first, I must give you tidings of the utmost importance. The Great Lights have bespoken me a message.’
‘Ahrooi’ cried the other Eminences. Such a direct communication was virtually unheard of.
The rotund First Judge took a hasty gulp from a golden chalice. ‘What did they say?’
Before answering, The Master Shaman inserted one tentacle into his gaping mouth and pulled the Known Potency from his craw. He lifted it high and it glistened with his own body fluids, a small moonstone carving of a ribbon twisted strangely into a figure-eight that had only a single side and a single edge. Kalawnn held it delicately between four clawed tentacle digits. Its soft glow pulsated slowly.
‘The Potency reacted in a strange manner to the message. Therefore, I will temporarily remove it from my person.’
The Conservator and the Judge murmured apprehensively. The Supreme Warrior said, ‘Just get on with it, Kalawnn!’
‘Humans have discovered the second Moon Crag.’
‘Ahroo!’
‘It is situated atop the immensely high mountain known as Demon Seat,’ the Master Shaman said, ‘just south of the Didion frontier, near Castle Vanguard in Cathra. The Great Lights once again became aware of its location when the detestable Likeminded Remnant used the crag to channel sorcerous Sky power to a human petitioner.’
‘You believed that, Kalawnn?’ The frail Conservator of Wisdom spoke in a labored wheeze. ‘More likely, the Lights have known all along where the second crag was. Only their Likeminded enemies’ unexpected discovery and use of it has prompted this warning to us.’
‘Who cares why they saw fit to finally tell us about it?’ the Supreme Warrior trumpeted. ‘Now we know! And perhaps this second crag has a better grade of mineral than the pitiful crumbling stuff we were able to salvage in the Barren Lands.’
‘At such terrible cost,’ the Conservator lamented, ‘only to find that it is virtually useless for creating new Sigils of Supreme Power.’
‘Perhaps not as useless as you think,’ Kalawnn said. ‘My workers are cleaving the best piece at this very moment, seeking to free a small perfect portion of mineral from the worthless matrix. If they are successful, we’ll be able to make at least one new Great Sigil. We shall have to decide which one is the most appropriate. For practical reasons, it should be a type that is not too difficult to carve.’
‘A Destroyer!’ Ugusawnn cried. ‘A simple wand. What could be easier than that? And what is more appropriate than the deadliest moonstone weapon of them all?’
‘Recall that Destroyers are also the most perilous to those who wield them,’ the Conservator said. ‘During Bazekoy’s invasion, numbers of our bravest warriors perished when they tried to conjure Destroying power in a manner that the Lights deemed presumptuous or excessive. The sigil acquired a dire reputation amongst our ancestors for that very reason.’
The Judge said, ‘Even the wily human villain Rothbannon was reluctant to make use of the Destroyer he tricked us into giving him.’
Kalawnn inclined his head. ‘We should also keep in mind the heinous fate that befell Queen Taspiroth of Moss, Rothbannon’s descendant, when she tried to use the sigil wrongly. Her husband King Linndal, my friend and colleague in sorcery, was driven mad by horror and grief after the atrocious tortures wreaked upon the queen’s body before her soul was consigned to the Hell of Ice.’
‘What in the world did the wretched woman attempt to do with the sigil?’ the First Judge inquired with clinical interest. ‘Knock the Moon out of the sky?’
‘Worse,’ Kalawnn said. ‘She was angered by certain – um – activities carried out by the Salka bands inhabiting the Little Fen. So she commanded Destroyer to kill every one of our people then dwelling on High Blenholme Island.’
‘Ahroo!’ the other Eminences exclaimed, aghast.
‘If such a terrible deed had taken place,’ the Master Shaman continued, ‘the minor sigils worn by those Salka would have died with their owners, depriving the Great Lights of the pain-energies they crave.’
The elderly Conservator of Wisdom digested this piece of information with a thoughtful frown. ‘But how are we to know which commands are safe to give this deadly sigil? I recall no guidelines for Destroyer’s use.’
‘There are none,’ Kalawnn admitted. ‘Whoever was chosen to use the Great Stone against the enemy would put his own life and soul at risk, in addition to suffering a tremendous pain-debt. We would require a daring and selfless volunteer…or even several of them, if the worst should happen. Of course, we might abolish the Lights’ control of the Destroyer by means of the Known Potency, as we originally planned. But then the limitation would prevail.’
‘A single abolished Destroyer,’ the Judge said, ‘even when used to best advantage, might not suffice to win back the rest of our island.’
‘It would grease the skids of victory,’ the Master Shaman said, ‘terrify the foe, and give our troops needed encouragement. Later on, if we manufacture more Destroyers from this second Moon Crag, the limitation will no longer be a serious factor.’