Chapter 17- The Rift
When Garn could see again he spun in a fast circle, looking around the Great Hall and tried to assess the damage.
To his astonishment, there didn't appear to be anything too terribly wrong. That is to say that no walls had been blown apart, no people had been killed. Of course a couple of tapestries and streamers had fallen from their rather precarious positions along the wall or ceiling. But as to the structure itself and the people gathered inside, there didn’t seem to be any serious damage.
Checking on the people still sitting at his table he was surprised to see Braxin Balinvain no longer around. He was even more surprised to see the King, Lord Timoth sprawled in his throne-like chair with his head resting down on the table.
Wasting no time, Garnthalisbain rushed to the king’s side and propped the larger man back up in his chair. His eyes were closed and the expression on his face was twisted in fright.
Pressing two fingers against the side of the king's neck, Garn held his breath and waited. Within moments he was rewarded with the feeling of the elder man's pulse, beating strong and true. Much relieved, the mage reached into his robe and fumbled around in one of the inner pouches. He withdrew his small container of sharp smelling salts and spices. With a sharp twist he un-stoppered the bottle and waved it beneath the king’s nose.
"Timoth!" came the sharp feminine cry behind him. Checking over his shoulder Garn saw Queen Teixiara rushing towards her husband. All dignity seemed to have been thrown out the door as the folds of her skirt and gown flapped along behind her as she ran. Behind her ran Sir Terius and his wife, the expression on their faces grim.
Lord Timoth snorted violently, spasming forward in his chair. Garn placed his small hands on the king's chest and tried to hold him steady in the chair. His frail arms quaked with the strain, but he did manage to complete the task. The king's iron grey eyes were wide open but they seemed to have trouble focusing on anything.
Then the Queen was there. She dropped to her knees beside her husband and gripped at his arm fiercely. Tears had begun to trickle out of her eyes and the make up on her lower lip was smudged from where she had been chewing on it. "Is he all right?" she asked Garn anxiously.
Garn held one hand out to her palm up to try and calm her down. "I'm sure he'll be fine, milady. Just give him a couple of minutes to recover. This must have come as a great shock to him."
Terius and Seranna came trotting up at that moment. "Is he .." the knight began.
"He'll be fine if you people would let me help him!" Garn snapped more viciously than he'd intended to. But it got his desired effect. They all shut up quite nicely.
A few minutes later Timoth came to his complete senses and was busy looking around and asking questions. "Thank you, good mage," he said with a nod towards Garnthalisbain. "But I am all right now." He looked around the table briefly and frowned. "Where has Braxin Balinvain gotten himself? At this time of crisis he decides to run off?"
Garn bowed in acquiescence. "I am uncertain where the wizard has gone, milord. However if you would like to avail yourself of mine and my associates advice and opinions, we would be honored to do so."
Lord Timoth nodded in agreement. He gestured towards the spiral staircase in the back of the Great Hall. "Very well, young Garnthalisbain. Gather those of your associates that you think will be of value for such a conference and bring them up to the balcony." He turned to Terius. "Send for Havar and whichever of your men that you think might be of value for this meeting. If you see Balinvain, inform him of the occasion and of my displeasure at his actions of late. Also, clear everyone out of the Hall and send them home." He rose unsteadily to his feet at first, then closed his eyes and forced himself to be stable. He kissed his wife gently. "You'd better head back to check on Terran dear. I’m certain that all of this... chaos, has upset the young one."
Teixiara nodded silently and walked off with Lady Seranna close behind her.
Terius spun on his heel and trotted off into the crowd, looking for his men and shouting out orders. Garn gracefully waded into the same crowd and looked for his friends.
Not for the first time, Garn wished that he could have been just a little bit taller. He wasn't short, exactly. Just below the average in height. That however did make it difficult to see over, much less through a crowd of milling, frightened people, many of whom were frantically screaming at the top of their lungs.
Quickly realizing the futility of his current endeavor, the mage began to look about for something to stand on. Finding nothing in the way of furniture close by, Garn resolved himself to stepping gingerly up on the unconscious body of one hefty individual dressed in green.
"Sorry about this," he muttered as he got the leg up. With a grim look on his face, he began to scan over the heads of the milling, colorfully dressed crowd of people.
Within moments he had spotted Hal's head over the rest of the crowd. It had taken the mage a moment to recognize him with hair groomed and tied back, but then he'd asked himself how many other people were that much taller than the average person. Getting a mental verification of the big man's position, Garn hopped down off of the gentleman and offered his thanks before moving on.
As he tried to maneuver his way through the crowd, one woman with short brown hair through herself into the mage's arms screaming. "The world's coming to an end!" her voice warbled right into Garn's face, splattering him with drops of spittle. She writhed about frantically, whipping him with the ends of her hair at times. "What are we going to do?" she screamed, reaching a new octave and consequently making the mage realize that he had a splitting headache.
With the same calm precision and determination with which the mage did everything, he leaned as far back as he was able and slapped the woman across the face. She cried out once more and then was quiet, pressing both hands to her face and staring in disbelief.
Garn noted with distaste the revolting amount of make-up that had come off on his hand. He reached out and wiped off as much of it as he could on the woman's dress. He spoke calmly and precisely, with only a small amount of irritation. "The world is not coming to an end, all right? Now why don't you go run off somewhere and find a gentleman who's as drunk as you are and find some way to spend the rest of the evening without getting on my nerves?" With that, Garn spun on his heel and walked away, wiping at his face with a handkerchief that he withdrew from one sleeve.
Behind him he heard the woman sputter a few times in disbelief before finally saying. "Well, I never... And me? Of the royal family of Dancivar! Why I... " Garn stopped listening at that point and moved along.
Garn tried to go over the event that had happened in his mind as he waded through the wall of people. What he remembered was ordering yet another glass of that fine red wine when he felt a sudden surge of magical energy flood his external senses. This was at least half a minute before anyone else seemed to have any sort of reaction what so ever. He had rose to his feet and was looking... which way? Which way was he looking? He was sure the energy was coming from a specific direction, but which direction was it?
Then the blinding light hit, white to crimson. He blacked out for perhaps a second, heard the laughter and came back to his senses, collapsed in his chair. Balinvain was gone and the King was out cold.
Wait. Balinvain! Garn thought. If he's half the wizard that he's supposed to be, he should have known about the disturbance even before I did. I mean, I know I'm good. But I'm not that good, am I?
As Garn mulled over this dilemma, he also tried to remember what Balinvain's reaction had been as Garn felt the surge.
Okay. He looked at me, I'm sure of that. Then I turned in the direction of the magic … behind me! Okay, fine. Now, I know which direction, but that can wait. There was a bizarre expression on his face. Just what in the hell was it? What does it mean? Does it mean anything?
Garn slid between a group of people that were busy holding onto each other for dear life as he thought. One of the men shoved at him, knocki
ng him off his stride and his train of thought. Suddenly irate, Garn spun around and faced the man.
The individual in question was reasonably tall and considerably more well-built than Garn. He loomed over the long haired mage and sneered dangerously. Garn took a step back and scowled up into the man's face, holding both hands in front of him shaped like claws.
Then a slight shadow loomed over them both. The man looked up , over the mage’s head. The confident expression on his face dissolved and was quickly replaced with one of concern. The man tried to grin and stammer out a joke of some sort but couldn't seem to make any intelligent sound come sputtering out. Abandoning any semblance of decency or decorum, the man turned and left in a considerable hurry.
Garn slowly turned about, preparing himself for the grand chewing out that he was going to give whichever one of his friends was standing behind him. Ceorn stood there with a grim expression on his face. Then seeing the mage looking up at him, he smiled broadly. “No worries, I know you could’ve taken’ him.”
Garn opened his mouth to begin the verbal abuse but stopped as he looked at Ceorn's expression more closely. As if a torch had been suddenly lit right before his eyes, the answer to his question hit him. And along with it came a slew of other questions and possibilities that it raised.
Ceorn clapped a hand to his smaller friend's shoulder. " 'Are you all right, lad? I figured you’d have somethin’ to say by now."
Garn grinned up at the kelt then punched him softly on the arm. "I just like to keep you guessing, Ceorn. You know that." Then he looked beyond him and scanned for the others. "Where's everyone at? I need to talk with them."
Ceorn shrugged and swung his gaze around. "I'm not sure. They're around here somewhere."
"I saw Hal over that way just a few minutes ago," Garn pointed.
The kelt rose up on his toes and scanned. Then he smiled again and waved. "Don't move, lad!" he shouted over the din. "Me and the mage 're comin'!" Then he rocked back on his heels and nudged his friend. "I found 'em."
Garn snorted in disgust. "Clearly." He started to make his way through the crowd again. "Come on."
Ceorn stepped in front of him and began to clear the way with a couple of well-placed elbows, scowls or grins. "If'n you don't mind, Garn. I think I might be a bit better at this." Garn grimaced but was forced to agree.
In just a few moments the kelt led the way until they were in the small clearing of people around Hal. He was standing stock still with a woman collapsed in his arms. Garn was initially surprised to see that it wasn't Renora. He was even more surprised to see that it was Tasha. And just when he didn't think that he could have been surprised any more, he saw that Tasha was sobbing uncontrollably.
Hal's face was twisted with remorse. "Garn!" he cried out when he saw the mage. He gestured to Tasha with his head. "Help her!"
Garn rushed forward and took Tasha's arm. She flashed her gaze towards him in alarm then was visibly relieved when she recognized him. Without a word, she reached out with one arm and pulled him close as well.
"What happened?" Garn spat accusingly up at the big man.
Hal shook his head in dismay. "I don't know! There was this light and then this laughter and... "
"I mean to Tasha! What happened to Tasha?"
"I still don't know. When I was able to see again, she was just there. Holding me and crying." Concern openly displayed itself on Hal's face, warring with a look of frustration at his inability to do anything for her.
Garn looked around in disgust. "Well this will never do. She needs a place to sit and calm down." He gestured towards the kelt. "Ceorn, lead the way back to our table. Hal you carry her there if you have to.”
Ceorn leapt back into the dwindling throng of people and cleared a path. Garn carefully disengaged himself from Tasha's grip and left her to Hal. With infinite tenderness, the big man took her up in his strong arms and carefully carried her along, cradling her as if she were one of the twins. Tasha wrapped her arms around his neck and continued to sob uncontrollably.
Reaching the dais where the table was, Ceorn appropriated the King's chair and swung it around. Hal gently placed her down on the cushioned seat and tried to pull away. Tasha however a grabbed a hold of his hand and refused to let go. Hal nodded in acquiescence and dropped to one knee beside the chair, continuing to hold her hand.
Garn waited a few minutes to allow Tasha the chance to calm down before beginning his questioning. "You want something to drink?" She nodded softly. Ceorn stirred and grabbed at the wine bottle on the table. He quickly filled up half a goblet and handed it to Garn. The mage held it out to Tasha carefully. She gently took it and sipped at the dark red liquid.
Tasha took a few more little sips before smiling slightly. "Thank you," she whispered as she set the goblet down on the arm of the chair.
"Better now?" Garn asked as Ceorn caught the goblet just before it tipped off the chair and spilled to the floor.
Wiping at her eyes with her free hand, Tasha nodded. "A bit."
"You sure?" Hal asked anxiously, concern still obvious on his face.
She smiled at him warmly. "Yes, Hal."
Garn raised an eyebrow at the two of them but didn't say a word. He did file away in the back of his mind the need to speak with Hal about women and his timing with them. That done, he began his interrogation.
"So Tasha, what happened to you in last few minutes that didn't happen to the rest of us? You're not typically this much of a crier, as far as women go."
Tasha let the obvious jibe go unnoticed this once. "I'm not sure," she began.
Garn hung his head and sighed. "You're not much more help than Hal," he muttered as the big man shot him a hurt look.
"After the light hit," Tasha continued. "I felt my... My abilities just sort of come alive. I don't remember if I did it on purpose or not, but I suppose I must have. I've never just had them take me over before."
"Did you have another vision?" Garn prompted.
She nodded. "It seemed I was seeing three things at once. At first I saw Xir. He was angling his staff and directing his energies. I don't know how I know this because the energy was still shooting off in every direction. But, I know he was. I could feel it." She took a deep breath and went on. "Then I saw, at the same time, a man dressed in red robes. I think he was a man, but it was hard to see much that was distinguishable. He was sitting in this throne just writhing in pain and screaming. He was sitting in this throne in some castle or possibly a cave or... I don't know what. He was covered in the same energies as those that came from the staff. He was in such pain. But he kept saying that this was what he wanted, and that he couldn't stop."
She paused.
Garn pressed her. "And the third thing?"
Tasha looked as if she was about to cry again. "The third was of the woman, the one with the cat?" Garn nodded in recognition. "She was standing next to this mountain, literally standing next to it. Her head was at eye level with its peak. At its peak was what appeared to be a fortress of some sort. Above it roiled dark grey clouds that billowed and writhed with crimson lightning. From the fortress as well came more of that crimson light. And the woman... she .. she was... "
"What?" Garn prodded frantically. "She was what?"
"Crying. She was crying, Garn!" Tasha had begun to look a little teary eyed again.
Garn somehow seemed to find the ending of the story to be somewhat anticlimactic. He cleared his throat before going on. "Uh, not to sound insensitive to the pain that you're feeling Tasha. But is that it? The woman was crying?"
Tasha shook her head. "No. You don't understand. Outside of the cloud there seemed to be a coalescence of the energies. It grasped and clawed at... At the sky itself. I know that sounds crazy but it's true all the same. Then … Then the sky seemed to be .. Pulled apart? It was as if the sky was a piece of fabric that just couldn't take the strain anymore and was torn apart at the seams."
"What was on the other side?" Garn asked
anxiously.
"I couldn't see. It was all just that same crimson color. The woman kept reaching out to it, wanting to close it shut. And she could have! I know she could have! But something was holding her back. And that caused her so much pain that she cried. And she never cries, I know that just the same as I know what happened. Her face was just filled with sorrow at the restrictions placed upon her." Tasha paused again. "And then she spoke to me.
"She said 'You must seal the Rift, Tasha. The Book of Korum is the only item in the Lands with knowledge of how to do this. You will need all of your strength and all that of your companions to be able to complete this task.' Then she showed me this image of a mountain. A lone mountain in the middle of wide grassy plains. 'At the peak of this mountain,' she said. 'You will find the book. But beware, for there will be great danger once you reach this place. And even the strength of you, your companions and those companions you have yet to meet, may not be enough for you to survive this part of your quest.' And then she left, leaving me with nothing but the sound of her crying ringing in my ears."
Garn let the information swell over him and frowned at the implications. He glanced up at the balcony where they were supposed to meet Lord Timoth and the others and grimaced. "I hate to ask it, Tasha," he began before she smiled.
"But you're going to ask it anyway, right?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Garn chuckled. He gestured towards the balcony with his thumb. "You have to tell that story again to a much less sympathetic audience. The King wants us to go up there and discuss with him what we think just happened. And now that we know, we might have a rather serious problem on our hands."
Ceorn laughed grimly. "You can say that again."
There was a commotion off to the left and a rapid series of footsteps. Hal's eyes widened in shock and he rose to his feet, dropping Tasha’s hand in the process. She started at his sudden motion and stared up at Hal wordlessly.
Renora threw herself into Hal's arms and hugged him fiercely. "Oh thank the Gods you're all right, Hal!" she began. "When I could see again and the laughter stopped I couldn't see you anywhere. And I was so worried that something happened, and... "
Hal tried to quiet her down. "I'm fine, Renora," he said even though his face said something radically different. "I’m fine."
Tasha watched the two of them for a brief second before swinging her gaze back to Garn's. "Has there been any sign of Ambori?" she asked, though Garn was certain that she couldn't have cared a lick about the bard's well-being at that point.
Ambori actually stepped up behind the mage then. He looked a bit worse for wear with his hair completely messed up and there was a dark red stain across the front of his yellow and blue striped shirt. But he smiled at the sight of his friends. "I'm right here, milady. And am so glad that you care."
Garn looked at the bard and grinned wryly. "Don't bet on it."
Tasha stiffly rose to her feet. "Well, I suppose we should go on up to the balcony then. No sense in keeping the royalty waiting unnecessarily, don't you think?" No one answered. She stepped away from the chair and stopped in front of Hal and Renora. With a slow, careful glance, she looked at him. "Are you coming, Hal?" she asked quietly.
Hal opened his mouth to reply but Renora spoke up first, turning to look at Tasha as she did so. "Do you really need him?" she asked, honest fear in her eyes. "I'm just so nervous over what happened that I really don't want to be alone right now. But, if you really... "
Tasha cut her off with a wave of her hand. "No, that's all right," she said with little to no emotion in her voice. She looked into Hal's now blue-grey eyes and regarded him coolly. "Hal, you don't need to come with us right now. You can escort Renora back to her chambers and... And we'll fill you in tomorrow on what the King says."
Opening his mouth to say something, it died in his throat as Renora cast a glance back up at him fearfully. He flicked his gaze from Tasha's to Renora's for a second before nodding wearily. "As you wish, milady."
Without another word Hal took Renora's arm and walked off.
Seeing the look of... whatever in Hal's eyes, Garn was ready to believe that Tasha would change her mind at the last minute. However, she took a deep breath and waited for them to get completely out of her sight before heading towards the spiral staircase and the balcony above. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she snapped.
As one, the three slightly confused men trotted after her.
The red carpeted staircase wound about itself three times before revealing a set of silver inlaid double doors. Tasha opened them wide and strode out into the chilly night air and onto the balcony. The others followed along behind.
The balcony was very wide, extending at least forty feet out from the wall of the castle itself. It was made out of the same marble as the rest of Southmoor Castle and was carpeted in red. There were twin statues of peregrine falcons on each side of the balcony facing out into the night; silent protectors.
Lord Timoth leaned against the railing, both hands resting on the marble stonework and his gaze sweeping across his domain. Sir Terius stood near him, both arms folded across his chest and one leg resting on a lower portion of the barrier. Havar, the Lord Chancellor sat at the lone table. He was dressed in the same robes as before and held a scroll pad and parchment in his lap. A quill and inkwell rested on the table proper, waiting to be used.
At the sound of their arrival, the King turned around and regarded the group. "Where's the large one?" he asked.
"He couldn't make it," Tasha cut in. "A personal matter."
Lord Timoth frowned at her for a moment. Then he nodded. "A pity. I was looking forward to... " He broke off abruptly, piquing Garn's curiosity. "Well then gentlemen, and lady. Does anyone present have any idea as to what just happened here?"
Tasha raised her hand slightly and stepped forward. " I do, milord."
Timoth eyed her curiously. "Really," he said. He strode over to the table and sat down in another chair. "And that idea would be?"
"Well, your Highness," Tasha began, clearing her throat. "It's like this..." And she then went on to describe the entire purpose behind their journey to Southmoor. Starting with her first vision of Xir and finishing with her most recent. That done, Timoth was curious as to whom Xir was. Garnthalisbain stepped in then and related the tale of Xir and his twin back in the times before the glaciers. The mage was astonished when Havar expanded on his recounting with historical details unknown to him.
After all the talking was done Timoth was very quiet. He didn't say anything for a great long while as he scratched at his chin with the fingers of one gnarled hand. For a frighteningly long moment, Garn was afraid that he didn't believe a word of the story and was about to have them clapped in irons. Then he got himself under control, realizing that Timoth had just witnessed proof to everything they'd said.
At long last Lord Timoth opened his eyes and regarded the party. "Well," he said. "That's quite a tale. One that under most circumstances I would have laughed at and had the storytellers escorted out the front gate." Than he laughed. "In this case however, I find myself forced to believe you." He shook his head briefly and turned to Terius. "Well then my friend, what do you think we can do about this?"
Sir Terius grimaced distastefully as he pondered the situation. "I'm not certain Timoth. On one hand, I see the grave necessity of finding this Book of Korum as soon as possible to end the threat of this Xir from entering the Lands once again. And yet, I have few men to spare for such a quest. As I mentioned in my report earlier today, there are armies of highwaymen and other species gathering on the roads these days. As it is, I will be hard pressed to send out enough bands of knights and foot soldiers to keep those annoyances at bay while still keeping the castle defenses up and running." Then he looked at Tasha, Garn and the others. "And yet, I find it impossible in my own mind to send these good folks out without some measure of support."
Lord Timoth agreed with a sigh. "I understand." He sighed again and thought for a moment longer,
looking up into the sky. "I wish Hevanos were here, he would know what to do."
Terius nodded gravely. "Yes, milord. He would be a great help at this time."
Garn stepped forward. "Pardon me, lords. But if this man would be of such assistance, why don't you summon him to give his help?"
Timoth's eyes flashed with hurt and he glared at the mage. "You do not know what you ask." he muttered angrily.
The knight was more conversational about it. "Hevanos was Timoth's brother. He was the hereditary Lord of Eastwall and Protector of Southmoor. Whenever there was a disaster afoot, the Protector would go with a contingent of soldiers and put it to rest. Hevanos and his family died a number of years ago on a leisure trip, murdered by a group of highwaymen."
"Thirteen years ago," the king muttered beneath his breath. "Thirteen."
Havar spoke up for the first time during the meeting. "What I don't understand is why you people? I mean, I'm certain that you're very talented at what you do. But why you? What is so special about you?"
Tasha found herself shrugging helplessly. "I don't know."
The doors to the balcony were thrown open, loud in the open air. Framed in opening was the wayward knight Krehgal and the Court Wizard, Braxin Balinvain.
Terius' eyes flashed angrily. He strode forward and glared at the arrogant young man. "I do believe that I had confined you to quarters for the evening for conduct unbecoming of a Knight, Krehgal. Do you wish me to increase that disciplinary action for direct disobedience?"
Krehgal glared right back at his superior, folding his now perfectly healthy arms across his chest in a pose of defiance. "Since when is the Prince of Southmoor not invited to meetings involving the well-being of our Country? I wouldn't even have known about this if our loyal Court Wizard hadn't informed me of it."
Tasha snapped her gaze to Garn. "Prince?" she muttered worriedly.
Garn shrugged helplessly. He hadn't known either.
Timoth rose form his chair and pointed at Krehgal in a fury. "Since when were children ever invited to a meeting of this importance?"
"I am not a child!"
"Your actions of late, including your embarrassing incident today involving the refugees seeking aid and our guests certainly prove otherwise!"
Krehgal looked about to strangle himself the way his hands clutched at the neck of his tunic. "I had a right! I had saved that woman's life from those highwaymen. It was my right to have my way with her! I would not have hurt her, just merely... "
"That is enough!" Timoth shouted. "Listen to yourself talk. Just listen. What has happened to you my son? You didn't use to be this way. You used to be such a pleasant boy who never said a wrong word to anyone." Tears began to form in the big grey eyes. "Have I neglected you so much, my child? Has my marriage to Teixiara done so much to you?"
Krehgal seemed to calm down slightly, at least enough to regain control of his dignity. Braxin Balinvain touched the frustrated young man lightly on the back of his shoulder. Garn felt a slight surge of the Power and suddenly Krehgal’s face flashed again in rage.
“Why would I be concerned that you’ve taken up with a whore, father?” Krehgal spat with venom.
Terius and Havar couldn’t restrain their gasps of astonishment. King Timoth seemed to swell with emotion.
Father and son were heavily into an argument once again and the court wizard stepped back with a slight smile on his face.
Well, that answers one question.
Garn quickly stepped in between the quarreling family members and raised his arms out to the sides. He manipulated a small portion of the Power that was his to control and amplified the sound of his own voice until it flowed over the din upon the balcony. "STOP!"
Every person on the balcony froze in place, shocked into silence.
Garn extended one finger and pointed to the wizard. "Braxin Balinvain. I have some questions for you."
The mousey wizard took a cautious step forward and regarded the young mage curiously. With his keen eye, Garn spotted the droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead. "And those would be, youngling?"
Garn lowered his arms and hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Before the lights began and the world went crimson, you and I were speaking. I got a very good look at your face when I felt the Power begin to surge. In that moment I was so astonished that I reflexively stood from my chair and turned in the direction it was coming from." Garn paused and stared at the wizard coolly. "Do you remember what you were doing at that time, Braxin Balinvain?"
The wizard began to smirk. "During such a momentous event it impossible to remember every small action one might have... "
Garn took a step forward, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "You were smiling, Braxin Balinvain. Why do you think that was? Were you, perhaps so overcome by the surging of elemental energies threatening to rip our world asunder that it brought you joy?” Garn took another step closer until the two mages were mere feet apart. “Or did you know this was coming?"
Lord Timoth took a step forward from the balcony rail. "Balinvain! Is this true?"
"I find myself accused by a hedge mage from some Vineyard across the sea and must defend my actions?" Balinvain sneered, though sweat beaded more noticeably upon his brow. “My liege, I must protest this …”
"Another thing," Garn went on. "You wouldn't happen to have any sort of a hold over the good Prince would you?" Balinvain’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at Garn. "I only ask because I felt another surge of the Power as you touched him just a moment ago, right before he went into a tirade if I recall."
Krehgal stepped forward indignantly, his face red and florid. "Are you suggesting that I... "
"Shut up!" Balinvain muttered. The prince meekly complied. Then realizing what he had done, his face froze in alarm.
Garnthalisbain took another step forward. "You're really lousy at this intrigue stuff Braxin Balinvain. I'd suggest that you should have stuck to your magic, but I'm assuming that you aren't any better at that."
Braxin Balinvain’s face twisted. He took a rapid step back and wrapped one arm around the throat of a now surprisingly tranquil Prince Krehgal. He thrust one hand out at Garnthalisbain who could feel an incredible level of Power that was suddenly being built up. "Damn you!" the wizard growled as a sheet of lightning erupted from his fingertips.
The bolts seemed to strike against and glance off an impenetrable wall inches away from the mage's frail form. Nevertheless, Garn was flung through the air until he slammed heavily into the base of the balcony’s railing. He grunted painfully to himself, and waited for the sheets of electricity to stop crackling about his impromptu shield.
By the time the energy had dissipated and Garn was able to lower his shield and take a look around the balcony, Balinvain and Krehgal were gone.
Tasha was at his side in a second. "Are you all right?"
Garn slowly made his way to his feet, with Tasha and Ceorn both helping him. He grimaced at the waves of pain that screamed in his back as he did so but managed to ignore them. "More or less," he muttered.
"Is there anythin' we can get you lad?" the kelt asked.
Running his fingers through his hair, he noted without a great deal of surprise that it was now standing more or less on edge from the static charge. "Yeah, a hair brush and a cold glass of whiskey."
Ceorn snickered as he trotted off to comply.
Tasha gazed at her friend curiously. "Are you sure you're all right?"
Garn thought about it for a moment than shook his head. "Nope."
She looked at him with concern. "Will you be all right?"
Garn’s lips peeled back in evil grin. "I will be once I get the chance to kick Braxin Balinvain's mousey little ass!"