Katrina picked up the quartz crystal. Just small enough to fit into a container six inches along each side, its facets were irregular, but highly polished, its edges unpredictable, but sharp and well defined. Unlike many crystals, there were no internal flaws visible, and she could see her palm easily through it, refracted and bent into an impossible shape. The high pitched whine that the quartz had been emitting faded instantly.

Holding the crystal so that she was looking through it to the fire beyond, she saw the pattern of light within it shift and warp, finally taking the form of a face, wavering in time with the unsteady glow of the flames.

“My Lord,” Katrina said softly. “How may I serve?”

“How is it?” Tiernach’s voice was distorted, as if he was speaking from the other side of a door, but easily recognisable as his eyes gleamed from the heart of the crystal.

“Alive,” the leonin shrugged. “Docile, as ever, though it does have a damned habit of scratching that collar.”

Tiernach frowned. “I thought I told you to train it otherwise.”

“I would if I could!” Katrina looked exasperated. “But it’s remarkably hard to find anything that hurts it, and it’s about as intelligent as a brick!”

“It is probably,” Tiernach smiled thinly. “More intelligent than you, as I am sure you will find out if that collar comes loose. If that happens, then I assure you that in the unlikely event you survive that, you will not survive me.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” Katrina sounded resigned. “I will see if I can find a smith suitably skilled to make a goad of sufficient size. May I ask how you have been faring recently?” she asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

“My father will be on his way as soon as he hears word that your attack has been successful.”

Katrina’s eyebrows shot upwards. “I had not anticipated that...”

“Nor I, however I believe it will prove useful.”

“Useful, my Lord?”

“Exactly. It will be far easier to assume control of the kingdom in his absence.”

“Of course,” Katrina nodded slowly. “But how should I receive him here?”

“You won’t,” Tiernach stated simply.

“I won’t?”

“Of course not,” Tiernach snapped. “The attack fleet will arrive within two days. You’ll run every barbarian out of that city the moment it appears on the horizon. Immobilise the local militia in whatever way you see fit that won’t allow them to free themselves before the troops land. They’ll walk into the city, and take it over with no resistance. All reports will tally up, and my father will assume that the barbarians fled in terror at the sight of his troops. Deepsby will genuinely be under my father’s control, and the Freelands will continue their campaign against him none the wiser.”

“And by the time anyone figures out what really happened...” Katrina said softly, sounding impressed. “It won’t matter.”

“Precisely,” Tiernach nodded. “Leave your instructions with the barbarian chiefs, and return here quickly. Bring the dragon, I do not want it in view of the attack fleet.”

“Very well, my Lord,” Katrina smiled, then suddenly giggled, her face contorting with laugher. Tiernach frowned at her. “I’m sorry, my Lord, it’s just that... Stop that!” she barked to the lupari kneeling by her feet. Hastily, he withdrew his left hand – the right being restrained by a sling – from working the scented oil between her toes, his gaze downcast.

“I trust you have found some amusement among the locals,” Tiernach said dryly, one eyebrow arching upwards.

“Yes, my Lord.” For some reason Katrina flushed, and she looked away angrily. How dare he make her feel so!

“Well, then I am sorry to break you away from your entertainment,” the prince went on flatly. “But return quickly.”

“Understood, my Lord. Should I make arrangements for an alternate commander in the meantime?”

Tiernach shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. They only have to sit there for one or two days until the fleet arrives and then run away. My father will arrive two weeks after, and he will lead from there.”

“But, will he...”

“He will do exactly what I want him to. I will make certain he is only fed the right information. He’ll think he’s fighting the war his own way, and winning. At least he can have that satisfaction.”

“For now,” Katrina added.

“Yes...” Tiernach’s eyes narrowed. “For now.” Sooner or later, he knew he was going to have to officially end Maximillian’s reign. It was not a day he particularly looked forward to. His father had done well for the kingdom, brought much prosperity to the people. It was a shame, he reflected, but it couldn’t be helped.

“I will need a few hours to make arrangements here before I can leave,” Katrina interrupted his thoughts.

“That will be acceptable,” Tiernach nodded. “Now, I have matters to attend to. I shall expect to see you within two days.” With that, he draped a cloth over the crystal on the stand in front of him, knowing that it would terminate the communication. He sat back in his chair, glancing around his study while he thought.

One week, then. At the end of that time, Maximillian would leave the city to lead the army, and he must make his move. The move the Eye demanded. It made his stomach clench to think about it, but it couldn’t be helped. Maximillian, Kaja, Aleana... none of them were going to be at all happy about what he would do, but it wouldn’t hurt any of them, he would make sure of that. In the end, it would be to their benefit as well. After all, one who knows the secret of immortality can give the gift of life itself... they would forgive him. Eventually.

Tiernach knew this place.

This was Karan Fuur, the cave of silence, on the northern shore of the highlands.

The dark cavern arched above him, the sound of the ocean muted to a hissing echo that rebounded between the grey stone walls.

Desperate to find a way to tame the vengeful power of the dragons, in this cavern the magi had brought about the first of the victories that would swing the tides of the Dragon War. A message had been sent, requesting a representative from each of the four dragon clans, promising negotiations for peace.

And peace, of a kind, had been granted to the four who arrived that fateful day. Although unable to truly defeat the dragons at that time, the magi had been able to contain them, to seal them, to lock them away from the passage of time. There, they stayed, unmoving, unknowing, unfeeling and ageless, while the war continued in the world above.

The discovery of this cave had caused great consternation within the Brotherhood. They knew that here, at last, lay the power they needed to accomplish their goals. Now, all they must do was seek out one with magical knowledge who would dare to work with them.

They had found Tiernach. Innately gifted in the art, yet having abandoned the teachings of the Order, ever seeking a greater power. Where once four dragons had been sealed in Karan Fuur, only two  remained, their brethren now a part of the Brotherhood’s army.

The Dragon Staff. The greatest and most terrible weapon of ancient times. Broken and shattered in the last of the battles, only two fragments had thus far come into Tiernach’s possession – in fact, they had been in his possession since he was born. Gemstones, some thought them, perhaps a wondrous metal… but it mattered not. How ironic that such powerful artefacts should be deemed mere treasure, the centrepiece of the royal collection.

Creating fakes had not been overly taxing, and neither guards nor viewers knew that the fragments had been replaced. Now the originals resided quietly in Tiernach’s workshop, in a large cabinet, upon two small wooden stands. Rock? Metal? Wood? It was impossible to say. The fragments were fragments of the Dragon Staff, and no other description fitted them.

On inspection, one might notice that each had a number of jagged sides, sharp and raw, but that both had one side that was smooth. Looking closer still, the observer might see that the smooth side of each seemed similar, a delicate writing visible as if from a considerable depth under the surface, though there was no portion of the stone that seemed remotely translucent. Holding the stone to the light, the observer might see how it ran like liquid luminance along the lettering and the cracks in the rough edges, as if the fragments themselves were drawing the light in, releasing it only when and how they saw fit.

Speaking the ritual words was simple, just rote repetition of what he had memorised. Grasping the stone however, was a shock he had not been expecting at all. It was like plunging his arm into ice water, a flare of numbing pain, a flash of light, and then chaos broke out around him. Every thought, every memory, everything that he was seemed to streak before him, whirl around him, being examined and analysed.

Falling to his knees, Tiernach grasped his head in his hands, feeling as if his sanity were to be torn from him by the terrible sensation of being so forcibly laid bare, a cold fire raging within his skull.

Somewhere from deep inside him, amidst the whirl of confusion that reigned around him and within him, a small voice called out. “No!” the sound almost lost in the chaotic jumble that filled his head, Tiernach barely recognised the voice as his own. “No! I will keep control!”

“You will not. You have not the strength,” the reply was a deafening whisper, echoing throughout every corner of his mind.

Gritting his teeth, his jaw locking firm, the young leonin looked around him at the whirl that was his past and his present. He had come too far to be defeated by this. “I will prove my strength!” he shouted into the echoing void, his words swallowed by the maelstrom that was his life.

As if taking up the challenge, the chaos around him condensed, formed grasping coils that locked around his wrists and ankles. The magic pulled. Hard.

The pain was so intense that Tiernach’s scream was silent, his head thrown back in wordless agony even as he fought against the force that sought to rip him asunder. It is in my mind, the thoughts surfaced from deep within, bubbling to the surface of his pain filled world. This is not a fight of strength of body, but of spirit. That thought allowed him to force a calm, even as he felt his joints straining in their sockets, every bit of training he had received, everything he knew about how to control magic being put to the test as he struggled to find that relaxation of mind that is so necessary for magi.

“No,” he whispered, and pulled back against the magical force that bound him. “I will not be destroyed by you,” his limbs trembled with the strain as he poured every ounce of his will into pulling against the magic of the stone. “I will not!” Summoning his deepest reserves of strength, he had forbade the stone to do him harm, commanded it to obey his will.

With an inarticulate shout, Tiernach found himself sitting up. The room about him was dark, silent, empty.

A dream.

No, a memory. The cave of dragons, the agonising battle for control over the broken piece of the staff. All had happened, the events seared into his memory forever.

He was sweating. Angrily he stood, locating a towel and drying the cold sweat from his body before sitting back on the edge of the bed. Stupid. What was done was done, why should he still dream about it with such anxiety? How pathetic.

But still… the power of the Dragon Staff had been something far beyond his expectations. While that one fragment now responded to him as its master, its partner had yet to be brought under control.

It had been the Brotherhood who had demanded that Tiernach do more than study the fragments. Eager to begin his plans, the First had pressured Tiernach daily about his progress. Tiernach had no choice, as the First well knew. He hated the Eye, hated what it contained, loathed it with every fibre of his being... but he must have the knowledge. No matter the cost, he must know. The shadow of death must no longer cast him into darkness, must not be allowed to threaten those he cared for, and the Eye was the only thing in the world that knew how – its mere existence was proof of that. A dark and fearsome lifetime had gone into its creation, and it had become the great triumph of its maker, his last, most wondrous, and most terrible work.

The blood of one thousand people stained the glittering ruby. One thousand innocents whose lives had been taken in the great quest to create the Eye. One thousand minds taken and melded and corrupted to form a stable sanctuary for just one. One mind that would survive intact, long after its body had decayed and left this world, preserved for as long as was needed within that terrible creation.

And now must begin a journey that would end with that soul being reborn. Tyrandius tired of his entrapment within the eye, and had found his way out. The deal was simple – freedom, and an empire, in trade for immortality.

Freedom. The freedom of a body to once again walk upon the earth, to breathe the air, to taste the wind. A body that no living mortal could provide. His essence bound up with those who had died to form the Eye, Tyrandius could no longer live as any of the eight races. Only one race held the innate magical power to contain his burning power.

And the Dragon Staff was the key.

To control dragons, that was possible, even with the fragments separate, Tiernach was sure. The body would be easy to obtain. But to unite a soul with a body that was not its own... to totally destroy the native mind, to merge the body with another... only the complete staff could do such a thing.

And yet, Tiernach thought later that morning as he entered his workshop, there were still many fragments unaccounted for. These two, he opened the cabinet at the side of the room, his gaze lingering upon the glittering fragments inside, were all he had. The others must be tracked down if the plan was to be a success. And then he must face them. Each and every fragment, he felt certain, would retain enough of its magic to challenge him to prove he had the power.

It was not a process he looked forward to. Perhaps... yes, it could wait. Let the Brotherhood establish a power base using the dragons they had. Let all other problems be resolved, and then perhaps Tiernach could turn his entire attention to the reassembly of the staff.

“Hello, Tiernach.”

“What?” the leonin slammed the cabinet closed and turned, glaring at whoever had dared to approach him unannounced.

“I said hello,” Fellirion cocked his head to one side, smiling slightly in that disarmingly simple way.

“Yes…” Tiernach blinked, uncharacteristically flustered and struggling to work out an appropriate reaction to the old man’s unexpected appearance.

“Oh come, come,” Fellirion made his way towards the leonin, his staff tapping against the wooden floorboards. “I know you’ve been treated like royalty ever since I last saw you, but I should have thought you’d at least remember basic manners,” he smiled.

Tiernach sighed. “Hello, Fellirion.”

The man looked disappointed. “It used to be ‘Master Forester’.”

“A long time ago,” Tiernach returned, pacing to stand in front of the window, looking outwards across the courtyard of the palace. “You are not my teacher any more.”

“More’s the pity. You were a good student, could have done well with a little more time and study…” the old man sighed, examining several glass jars on a shelf along one wall. “Could have done well,” he repeated absently.

“What are you doing here?” Tiernach asked bluntly, turning to face Fellirion, his arms folded, his brow drawn into a frown.

“Oh, just paying a visit, seeing how things are,” moving on to a stuffed eagle on the mantelpiece, the old man prodded it’s beak with a finger.

“I see…” the leonin sounded suspicious.

“Are you sure that’s quite dead?” Fellirion frowned at the eagle.

“It has been for the last two years,” Tiernach sighed. “I don’t see that changing.”

“Hmm,” Fellirion frowned a moment longer, then looked up. “What was I saying? Oh, yes,” he moved over to the rack of shelves on the other side of the fireplace. “After all, these are troubled times, and since they did make me the official representative of the Order, it seems to be my place to visit both sides and attempt to play peacemaker, so to speak.”

“So go speak with my father,” the leonin said caustically. “Any peace that’s to be made must be made with him.”

“Your father,” Fellirion said, leafing through a book he had taken off one of the shelves and raising an eyebrow. “Has made up his mind. I cannot change that.”

One side of Tiernach’s mouth curled upwards. “Yes you can.”

Fellirion glanced up at the leonin, one eyebrow twitching ever so slightly. “Perhaps,” he shrugged. “What is important is that I won’t change his mind.”

“Why?”

The man shrugged. “Not my style,” he said simply. “Too messy, and I seem to have misplaced my book of cleaning spells.”

In spite of himself, Tiernach smiled a little as the old man bent to peer at a small stuffed animal on one of the lower shelves. “What do you feed this on?” he asked.

The leonin fought to keep his eyes from rolling skywards. “Nothing,” he said calmly. “It’s dead.”

“Really?” Fellirion prodded the small animal with a finger, and it fell over. “Oh dear, I hope it wasn’t anything I did…” he glanced concernedly at Tiernach.

“I doubt it,” the leonin said dryly. “Unless you were here last year when the taxidermist was working on it.”

Fellirion looked around at the walls. “I don’t think so…” he said slowly. “I think I would remember this place.” He tottered over to the cabinet against the back wall. “Don’t you have anything decent to eat?” he asked, tugging on the door handles.

“Don’t!” Tiernach had crossed the room and slammed the door closed with one hand in less than a heartbeat. “Poke around in there, old man,” he narrowed his eyes. Had he seen?

Fellirion looked up at the leonin for a moment, looking rather surprised. Then he frowned. “Black doesn’t suit you,” he commented, shuffling away to look at the large picture hanging by the window.

“It suits my mood,” Tiernach said acidly, his ears lowering to a threatening half-mast.

“Well, I suppose this isn’t the finest hour for your family,” the man sighed. “War’s a dirty business. Are you sure you don’t have something to eat in one of these cupboards?” he started towards another cabinet on the other side of the room.

“Nothing at all,” intercepting him, Tiernach put himself between Fellirion and the cupboard. “This is, as you may have noticed, my study, not the kitchen.”

“Oh. Then why does it have knives in it?” the man looked around suspiciously.

“It doesn’t…” Tiernach forced his voice to calmness, feeling his tail stiffen in annoyance. “Have knives in it. There are no knives in the entire room.”

“What are those things then?” Fellirion pointed to the wall above the fireplace.

Tiernach took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before replying. “Those are swords. Old swords. Family treasures, in fact.”

“Really? Can’t see why, piddly little things…” the man muttered. “So no food?”

“No,” Tiernach gritted his teeth, and kept himself between the old man and the shelves as the old man seemed to be considering another inspection.

“And no knives?”

“No food, no knives, no forks, spoons, plates, platters, saucers, mugs, jugs, glasses, cups, or goblets,” the leonin growled.

“Not even a flagon of mead?”

Tiernach’s fists clenched. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “And now, as much as I have enjoyed your visit,” he went on, forcing an icy calmness into his words. “I really have things I must be doing, as I’m sure, do you…”

“Oh, yes, of course, I quite understand,” the old man nodded obligingly as Tiernach steered him towards the door.

“You!” the leonin shouted urgently, opening the door and spotting a passing servant.

“Highness?” the maid looked deeply shocked to be addressed directly by Tiernach.

“Take,” he gritted his teeth. “Master Forester,” he tried to ignore the beaming smile. “To the kitchen. See that he is given a meal of whatever he would like.”

“Of course, your Highness,” the maid curtsied. “Sir?” she asked, looking up at Fellirion.

“Delighted, my dear young lady,” the man beamed, following her along the corridor. “Goodbye, Tiernach,” he called over his shoulder. “Hope it all goes well with the war!”

“Indeed…” the leonin watched the retreating man until he and the maid had vanished around a corner. “And if I ever see you again…” he closed the door and paced over to the cabinet. “I will make my face the last thing you ever see,” he growled, opening the cupboard doors. Had the man seen the Staff’s fragments, he wondered. What if… he caught the thought and mulled it over for a moment, and then laughed harshly. Once perhaps, Fellirion might have been a threat, but now… he could see why the Order had decided to use him as their representative. It was, after all, the most harmless way to get him out of the way without upsetting him.

“Fellirion?” the sciurel peered sleepily at the distorted image of the old man as it danced across the surface of the water.

“Jan, excellent, I was hoping you would still be awake.”

“I wasn’t,” she replied testily, rubbing her eyes and shivering so that her thick tail trembled from base to tip. “And why are you so fuzzy?”

“My hair always goes like this when I’m tired. No, seriously, that is exactly part of the problem I am contacting you about.”

“Communication crystal drained?” Jan raised an eyebrow, rubbing the other eye.

“Not yet, but it soon will be, breaking through the interference around here will drain it dry in a few minutes, I fear. Listen, Jan, it’s important that you hear this. Tiernach has two fragments of the Dragon Staff.”

“What?”

“The Dragon Staff, Jan. Just like the fragment in Sanctuary, only he has two of them.”

“You’re joking.”

“I am not joking. Why do you think I’m having such a problem talking to you? Without the proper shielding in place, those things are disrupting every spell for miles.”

“And you think that’s what set the detectors off? That Tiernach...”

“I don’t know for sure,” Fellirion’s image wavered violently for a moment. “But possibly. Very probably, I feel. And I cannot help but wonder if he is connected with the hostilities between the Freelands and Lordenor either.”

“That is not our problem,” the sciurel shrugged, her purple dressing gown creasing around her shoulders. “Not a magical issue. You know the council won’t help you there.”

“But it is our problem if he is using those fragments!”

“Using them? Now you are joking! Nobody has gained mastery over the fragment in Sanctuary. It can’t be done, the magic was too disrupted by the split. The spellpaths are shattered, broken, complete chaos. It was always designed to protect itself, and in the state those fragments are in... it’d be suicide!”

Fellirion looked strangely uncomfortable, clearing his throat in a way that made Jan narrow her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Think about it,” he said quickly, before she could ask anything. “The disruptive range of the fragments is large, yes, but not large enough to account for the change we’ve all felt, not sitting passively in a cupboard. If it were, the detectors would have been ringing for years.”

“Then…”

“I don’t know,” his image flickered again, and the sciurel had to resist the temptation to prod the water while she waited for it to return.

“Why don’t you take them off him then?” she asked as the old man’s visage became visible again.

Fellirion’s eyes closed sadly. “I can’t, Jan. The staff was designed to protect itself, but it was made to protect its owner too. In fragments of that size lies the power of several magi of my level.”

“Then I will tell the council,” the sciurel said. “And we will…”

“Go up against dragons?” Fellirion asked.

“Impossible,” the sciurel said flatly. “He’s a talented young man, but he can’t have the power to…”

“But the Dragon Staff does! Influencing dragons is what it was made to do, and what I believe it may well be doing again.”

“That would explain a few things...” Jan said, casting her mind back to the events of earlier that summer. “But it’s unlikely, you will agree… where would he even find a dragon now? There haven’t been any for centuries, everyone knows that! He can’t have a dragon!”

“Can we afford to be wrong?” Fellirion asked simply, his expression sad. “Can we really afford to be caught unawares because we didn’t believe it could happen?”

Jan hesitated for only a moment. “I will tell the council immediately,” she said quietly.

“Excellent,” Fellirion nodded once, and blew softly over the quartz crystal in the palm of his hand. Jan’s image faded as the quartz clouded over, opacifying as the last of its magic was depleted.

He looked up at the chestnut mare peering over his shoulder.

“Nothing more to see, I’m afraid,” he said quietly. “That’s the last use I’ll have out of that,” he said, dropping the white quartz carelessly into a pocket. He looked thoughtfully up at the starry sky. “It’s just you and me now,” he went on. “And we’ve a long road ahead. I need to get back to Sanctuary as soon as possible, I can tell you now that there are those who won’t listen as well as Jan…”

Reaching into another pocket he withdrew the model ship he had shown to Aleana. He opened the hatch at the back and tipped the contents into his palm. One scroll of parchment, sealed with Aleana’s crest, and one loose note wrapped around it. He read the note aloud.

“Dear mister Forester, I do truly thank you for your efforts, and since I expect our meeting will have been both brief and public, I wish to put that in writing.” The old man smiled slightly. Returning the model ship had been an excusable reason to meet again, but to have spoken long would have seemed odder than strictly necessary, and it was attention he could do without.

“The letter to Troyston Goldwood tells everything I have already told to you, and contains the list of the nobles you asked for, and which you will also find on the back of this note.” Fellirion turned the parchment over and scanned the names briefly, nodding to himself.

“I am however, uncertain how much more use I can be here. It is evident that the Freelands have already committed to war, as has my father committed to responding in kind, neither of which I can prevent. Nor can I accuse those nobles on the list of any action not sanctioned by my father, as I have no firm evidence. I must state again that there may be valid reasons why they have not been able to commit a greater number of troops to my father’s army. As I have no military standing, there is no reason I would have been informed about such matters.

“Although it is my understanding that the Council of Magi do not interfere in affairs of state, I would be grateful if you would relay any decision or information relating to the current crisis that you are privy to. It may be that you will have more insight into matters than I. Should you find information of use in bringing peace back to our nations, I stand ready to assist you in any way possible.

“I thank you again for your efforts, and I hope that we may have further contact in the future.

“Aleana Irontooth.”

“Poor girl… she has no idea what she’s getting involved in. I rather wish I hadn’t encouraged her, but it’s too late for that now I suppose.” The mare snorted her agreement. “You think I should have found someone else?” A momentary non-committal look, then a shake of the head.

“I agree,” Fellirion murmured. “I think she will be a valuable asset, though I fear delivery of her message will have to wait. It can’t be a priority now, there are bigger things at stake… How do you feel about a night time walk?” he asked. The mare snorted again, a stubborn expression across her long face. “You do realise how important this is?” A rumble, but this one of acquiescence. Looking grumpy, she rose to her feet and permitted the man to climb into the saddle.