Maggie Furey - Shadowleague 3 - Echo of Eternity

ECHO OF ETERNITY - SHADOWLEAGUE 3 - MAGGIE FUREY

ECHO OF ETERNITY

The Curtain Walls have fallen—leaving the world of Myrial vulnerable to

unknown enemies from other realms. A slaughter by brutal winged invaders

has left the city of Tiarond reeling, and the laws governing reality itself no

longer seem to hold.

Under the rule of a renegade leader, the Shadowleague slowly gathers itself

together from its tattered remnants and braces for a devastating attack meant

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ECHO OF ETERNITY - SHADOWLEAGUE 3 - MAGGIE FUREY

to shatter it forever. Missing is a ring, the symbol of Myrial’s divine

power—and a reminder to its new ruler of the part he played in the collapse

of the Curtain Walls. It must be found before his secret is discovered.

Missing also is the one man whose mind holds the Dragon Seer’s knowledge

of all tribal memories.

Two warriors and a firedrake embark on an urgent mission to find

him—before the Dragons do.

When all hope seems lost, a young boy points the way to an amazing

discovery. Caverns beneath Tiarond hold ancient artifacts that just might be

the key they’re all searching for—but which they may be sorry they’ve

found....

Between a rock and a hard place . . .

Finally, Dark appeared to have come to a decision. He turned aside from the

route they had been taking, and followed the curve of the slope around the

bottom of a steep hill. Suddenly, the unnerving glow of the Curtain Walls

was straight ahead. Scall’s mind quailed from the sight, refusing to believe

they could be heading directly for that glowing barrier. What would happen

to someone who rode right into such sheets of frightful energy? Would he

survive the experience?

Scall very much doubted it. Dark, however, appeared to have other ideas.

With his goal clearly in sight, he picked up the pace, dragging a reluctant

captive, on his equally reluctant horse, behind.

Suddenly, the shrieking in the air that Scall had assumed to be the wind grew

louder—loud enough to drown out the buzz of the Curtain Walls—and he

recognized the shrill, discordant voices which had haunted his blackest

nightmares ever since he had left the city. The winged fiends from Tiarond

were coming, and here he was, penned in this bottleneck of a valley like a

cornered rat.

Scall’s mouth went dry. Panic caused his heart to thunder in his chest.

Desperately he tried to move, to speak, to warn Dark of their peril, but the

Summoner’s hold on him was too complete. All he could do was sit

helplessly in the saddle, and wait for death to come plummeting from the

skies...

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ECHO OF ETERNITY - SHADOWLEAGUE 3 - MAGGIE FUREY

Books by Maggie Furey

Aurian

Harp of Winds Sword of Flame

Dhiammara

Heart of Myrial

Spirit of the Stone

ECHO of ETERNITY

BOOK 3 OF

THE SHADOWLEAGUE

Maggie Furey

BANTAM BOOKS

ECHO OF ETERNITY

A Bantam Spectra Book / July 2003

Published by Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc. New York, New York

Map by James Sinclair

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

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ECHO OF ETERNITY - SHADOWLEAGUE 3 - MAGGIE FUREY

means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by

any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission

of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address:

Bantam Books, New York, New York.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this

book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the

publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment

for this “stripped book.”

Bantam Books, the rooster colophon, Spectra and the portrayal of a boxed

“s” are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

ISBN 0-553-58575-4

Manufactured in the United States of America Published simultaneously in

Canada

To my new girls, Freda and Sparkle. Welcome to the family.

CONTENTS

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Map

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ECHO OF ETERNITY - SHADOWLEAGUE 3 - MAGGIE FUREY

CHAPTER 1

To the Rescue

Everything looked the same as usual. The scattered buildings of the

Loremaster community were unchanged, their lichened grey stone blending

with their surroundings as though they were a natural part of the landscape.

Though the usual bank of low cloud hung over the Upper Lake, the waters of

the Lower Lake glittered in the pale, cool sunlight of an early-autumn

morning. The great oak forest that cloaked the steep southern slopes of the

valley was resplendent in bronze and gold, and fallen leaves lay like hoarded

treasure across the paths and down to the shores.

It could have been any normal day in Gendival had it not been for the

strange absence of inhabitants. At this hour, both in the Shadowleague

settlement and the village beyond, people were usually going about their

business, sparing time from their errands to stop a while and engage in talk.

Today, however, was not a normal day. Cergorn, the Archimandrite, was

grievously wounded and barely clinging to life. Amaurn the renegade had

returned, and had proved to have a number of covert supporters in Gendival.

There had been a titanic battle between two Senior Loremasters: many legs,

and the mantislike Skreeva—the former a supporter of the renegade Amaurn,

and the latter a Dragon-folk spy.

In the aftermath of these events, an uneasy, unnatural quiet had fallen. The

villagers were at home with their families, aware that the future of the

Shadowleague hung in the balance, and keeping out of the way while its

members settled the differences that had split their ranks. The Senior

Loremasters—those few who remained in Gendival—were convening at the

lakeside. It would be up to them to make sense of the last few hours and pull

the Shadowleague back into a cohesive team.

It was one meeting that Veldan would be glad to miss. She considered

herself, Kaz, and Elion extremely fortunate to be heading out of the

settlement. With luck they would be far away before anyone got round to

considering the part they had played in Amaurn’s sudden bid for power. And

hopefully, by the time they returned, all the fighting would be over and the

important decisions made. On Amaurn’s instructions, they would travel

downriver to the coast to find their lost companions Toulac and Zavahl, who

had been kidnapped by agents of the Dragonfolk. Zavahl carried in his mind

the spirit of their Seer, guardian of the tribal memories, and the Dragons

wanted him back. The Shadowleague, however, were desperately in need of

the information he carried, and Amaurn wasn’t prepared to let him go.

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Veldan, Kazairl, and Elion parted from Amaurn on the lakeshore. “Are you

sure you don’t want us to stay, and explain to the Afanc about Zavahl and

the Dragon?” Veldan asked in mind-speech. The lake monster was the only

other Senior Loremaster in Gendival at that time. Given his close friendship

to Cergorn, she had a feeling that he would object in the strongest possible

terms to this interloper from the past, and he would be a good deal less easy

to persuade than the other Loremasters. Though Amaurn had managed to

snatch the reins of power from Cergorn, whether he could hold on to them

remained to be seen.

Amaurn shook his head. “I’ll manage Bastiar—and any other objectors.” His

face was set and bleak, as though he had pulled the mantle of Lord Blade

around his shoulders once again. Veldan shivered. It was as though the

moment of closeness that they had shared in the aftermath of the battle had

never existed. “You and your friends get out of here,” he continued, “before

you become embroiled any further. I’ll have Bailen send messages

downriver to arrange for your transport. Just get Zavahl back. Everything

depends on that. If we can show Bastiar that we were right, and Cergorn was

wrong, then even he cannot deny my claim.”

He turned away and looked out across the waters of the lake. Veldan and

Elion exchanged a glance, she raising her eyebrows and he replying with a

shrug. Clearly, they had been dismissed.

The firedrake snorted loudly—there was no need to ask what he thought of

Amaurn’s attitude. “It’s a good thing for him that the Wind-Sprite isn’t

here,” Kaz muttered. “He may be able to get round the Afanc, but Shree

wouldn’t allow him to take over from her partner.”

The three Loremasters set off back up the wooded slope toward their own

hillside dwellings. At Veldan’s side, the firedrake rumbled softly in his

throat. Clearly, there was a lot he didn’t like about this business—which was

no surprise, as she found herself harboring the same doubts. How had it

happened so quickly, the transformation from Blade the foe to Amaurn the

ally? It felt as though she and Kaz had been swept away in a torrent of

circumstances, and had been too busy fighting the conflicting currents and

trying to keep their heads above water to know, or care, where they would be

washed ashore. She couldn’t understand how they had ended up supporting

Blade, yet somehow it had happened, and now they would have to live with

the consequences. Waiting until Elion had left them at the fork of the path,

heading for his own home, she mentioned her misgivings to the firedrake.

He tilted his head in a draconic shrug. “Me too. Well, we won’t be the only

ones.”

Veldan glanced back over her shoulder, toward the settlement. “True. And I

don’t think Blade, or Amaurn, or whatever he wants to call himself, is home

and dry yet. Now that all the excitement has died down, there are a lot of

doubts flying around.”

“Doubts?” The firedrake snorted. “You mean they’re scared out of their tiny

wits.” He stopped for a moment, turning his great, glowing eyes on his

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partner’s face. “What do you think, Boss? Honestly?”

Veldan shook her head. “I don’t know. I can scarcely believe I could support

a man who has been capable of such ruthlessness, but I do. I don’t trust him

entirely, but I think Gendival needs new blood and new vision right now.

What worries me, though, is that he seems so familiar, somehow. Even

though I never met him before, I feel as if he’s always been there,

somewhere in the back of my mind, just waiting to emerge. Does that make

any sense to you at all?”

“Are you crazy? Of course it doesn’t!” snorted the firedrake.

“You’re probably right.” Veldan sighed. “All my life I’ve had the tale of

Amaurn the renegade held up before me as an example and a warning. In a

sense, I grew up with Amaurn, and that’s probably why he seems so familiar

now.”

“It’s as good an explanation as any,” the firedrake agreed. “And you’re tired,

Boss; no wonder you’re not thinking straight. There’s enough to worry about

in this Amaurn business as it is, without clouding the issue with fancies.” He

turned his head to look at her. “Just think about it. Firstly, the world’s in a

state of crisis, and we need to take some kind of positive action. Secondly,

Cergorn wouldn’t listen when we tried to tell him that the Dragon Seer was

trapped inside Zavahl. Thirdly, it turns out that Amaurn was a friend of your

mother’s, so it’s natural that you’d want to trust him. Fourthly, he offered to

help us save Toulac and Aethon, not to mention the Heirarch, when Cergorn

wouldn't. We have enough reasons to make us change sides without

worrying about mysterious feelings.”

“I suppose you’re right. Anyway, it won’t make much difference what we

think. We’d better leave the problem of Amaurn to the Senior Loremasters

right now, and attend to our own affairs.”

Veldan’s mind leapt ahead to their journey. By this time, Bailen would be

sending messages down the river, and a boat would be waiting for them at

the nearest settlement of the Navigators. These river traders were an

essential part of life in Gendival. The realm consisted mainly of mountains

and lakes, and the land was so wild and broken that the easiest way to get

from place to place was by river. The Navigators were nomads of the

waterways; they built locks, they dredged the shallows, and in truly

inaccessible places, they constructed portage ways and transferred their

goods to smaller boats that could be hauled on rollers by sturdy horses. All

up and down the rivers they carried news and goods, and sometimes

passengers. Their great sailing barges even went to sea, trading along the

coastlines as far as the Curtain Walls would permit, and like all the natives

of the Gendival realm, the Navigators worked to support the Shadowleague

whenever necessary.

“It’ll make a nice change,” Kaz remarked, “to float down the river at our

ease and let somebody else do the work. My poor old legs have been

practically worn down to stumps, these last months.”

“Make the most of it,” Veldan warned him. “With the Curtain Walls still

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failing, our work is far from done. Somehow I get the feeling that Amaurn

will have plans for us when we get back.”

“If he’s still in charge when we get back,” the firedrake snorted. “He hasn’t

convinced Bastiar yet.”

There was a harsh edge to Veldan’s laughter. “Want to bet on it? Let’s not

forget that Amaurn is still Lord Blade, and a man doesn’t change overnight.

If it comes to a contest, I’ll back him against Afanc anytime."

When Kaz and Veldan reached their home, they found the indefatigable

Ailie already there. While they had been down by the lakeside, the innkeeper

had clearly been busy. She was in the middle of making breakfast, and the

glorious smell of frying bacon filled Veldan’s kitchen. The innkeeper looked

up as they entered. “Just in time,” she said cheerfully. “But where’s Elion

got to?”

“Gone back to his own house to change and get a few things together.”

Veldan had to swallow hard before she could get the words out. It had been a

long, eventful time since last night’s supper, and her mouth was watering at

the smell of the food.

The firedrake was stretching his neck out as far as it would go to sniff at the

bacon in the pan, oblivious to the spits of hot fat that stung his nose. “What

about me?” he demanded. “Veldan, ask her if she brought anything for me.”

“Shut up, Kaz.” Veldan cast a despairing look at the frying pan. “Ailie, this

is tremendously good of you, but we have to leave as soon as possible. The

Navigators will have a boat going downriver this morning, but they won’t

delay too long, because of catching the right tides at the estuary. We just

haven’t got time for breakfast.”

“That’s all right,” Ailie said tranquilly. She began to fish crisp, brown

rashers out of the pan, slipping them between the halves of round, flat

loaves, split lengthways. “We can take these with us and eat them on the

way.”

“We?” Veldan’s eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. For the first time,

she noticed several bags and bundles that had been stacked neatly in the

corner. “And just what are those?”

“Oh, that stuff isn’t for me,” Ailie told her. “Well most of it isn’t. I brought

that disreputable sheepskin coat Toulac is so attached to, and one of my

dad’s old coats for Zavahl, plus a change of warm, dry clothes for the pair of

them. Then I thought we should take some food, and blankets, and—"

“Now just hold on there, Ailie. I really appreciate all your help, but I can’t

possibly take you.”

“Whyever not?” Ailie interrupted. “If this had been one of your normal

missions, I would agree with you. I’m no Loremaster, and I don’t want to be.

But this time you’re only going to pick up Zavahl and Toulac. We’ll be

traveling by boat most of the way, and we aren’t even going outside the

Gendival Curtain Walls.”

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“But Cergorn doesn’t let villagers—”

“Oh, stuff Cergorn,” Kaz interrupted with a snort. “He’s not in charge

anymore. For goodness sake, Veldan, the woman has food! Bring her along.

And you forgot to ask her if she had any breakfast for me.”

With a laugh, Veldan surrendered. “All right,” she said aloud to Ailie as well

as the firedrake. “It’ll be a joy and a revelation to have someone with us who

can cook, for a change.”

The innkeeper grinned. “I knew you’d see sense.”

Leaving Ailie to finish packing up the food, Veldan went to throw together a

few things of her own. Although a quick wash and a change of clothes made

her feel better, she couldn’t keep her thoughts from dwelling wistfully on a

steaming bath followed by her soft, warm bed. Stifling a yawn, she splashed

cold water on her face. You can sleep on the boat, she told herself. Once we

get going, there’ll be plenty of time.

At that moment, she heard the sound of voices. “Slimebag’s here,” Kaz

informed her, but she noticed that the usual venom had vanished from the

epithet. Wisely, Veldan said nothing, but hurried back to the kitchen, where

Ailie was using Elion as a packhorse, and loading him up with her collection

of bundles.

“What did you bring?” Elion was grumbling. “The entire contents of the

inn?” Turning away from the innkeeper, he glanced across at Veldan, and

she saw the faint line of a frown between his brows. “Is this wise?” he asked

her in the silent mind-to-mind communication of the Loremasters.

She replied in mind-speech with an almost imperceptible shrug. “What harm

will it do? As Ailie was quick to point out, this isn’t like one of our normal

missions.” She grinned slyly. “And since she gets along so well with Zavahl,

it should be greatly to our benefit to have her along.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.” Aloud, for Ailie’s benefit, he

added, “Let’s go then, before I collapse under the weight of all this

baggage.”

They walked down through the trees to the bottom of the hill and turned

right to follow the river as it flowed out of ; the valley, which began to

widen as the settlement was left behind. Stubbled harvest fields and green

meadows had replaced the shining lakes. Farther down the valley, cows and

sheep were browsing peacefully in the cool autumn sunlight, but first, not far

from the outskirts of the village, there was a cluster of neatly kept stables

and barns, and horses grazed in the surrounding fields. Elegant heads were

raised as the Loremasters and Ailie approached. Unlike the beasts in the

realms outside, the horses of the Shadowleague were far too accustomed to

the presence of the firedrake to be afraid. They all seemed to sense that he

was not permitted to eat them, but Kaz always seemed to fascinatethem,

nonetheless.

The proximity of so much food, however, was driving the firedrake wild

with hunger, so he elected to wait outside while the others went on into the

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stable block. As Veldan and her companions walked into the neatly swept

yard, they were met by a square-set, stocky man with bristly, greying dark

hair and a pugnacious jaw. He emerged from the stables with a hayfork in

his hand, and when he saw Elion, his knuckles tightened around the shaft of

the fork. “Not you again! How dare you show your face back here?”

The Loremaster edged backward, trying to put Veldan and Ailie between

himself and the stableman, but the two women were having no part of it and

drifted away to the side, leaving Elion to his fate. “Er ... Look, Harral,” he

muttered. "I'm really sorry about the chestnut..."

Harral’s black, bushy brows were singularly effective for scowling. “Sorry?”

he barked. “You’re sorry?. Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? Against

my better judgment, and on Cergorn’s orders, I let you have the best mare in

the place, the darling of my heart, the apple of my eye. And you, you

incompetent buffoon, YOU GO AND LOSE HER!” His face had turned

brick-red and veins were standing out on his neck and forehead.

“But I brought you a replacement,” Elion protested weakly.

“You call that a horse? That ill-favored, iron-mouthed offspring of a donkey

and a cow?” Harral brandished his pitchfork menacingly, forcing Elion to

step back from the flashing tines. “I had plans for that mare, you moron. She

was going to be the foundation for an entire line. I should never have given

her to you. If the Archimandrite hadn’t...” He broke off at the mention of

Cergorn’s name, and changed tack abruptly. “Do any of you know how he

is?”

Veldan shook her head. “The healers are working desperately to save his

life. That’s all we’ve heard so far. We’ll just have to hope they succeed.”

She was surprised at the strength of her feelings. Despite the recent conflict

between them, Cergorn and his lifemate had always been a strong, sure

presence in her life. Though they had not been on the best of terms lately,

and though she no longer felt that he was the best choice for the role of

Archimandrite, she owed him far too much to wish him any harm.

Harral muttered an oath and spat on the ground. “That thrice-cursed

renegade Amaurn! Why couldn’t he have stayed away? If only we’d

managed to kill the slippery bastard the first time around ...”

Veldan, her curiosity piqued, was longing to ask him more about the events

that had taken place back then, but time was pressing. The Navigators

wouldn’t wait for passengers. Down near the mouth of the river, the estuary

waters were strongly tidal, and if they reached it at the wrong time, their

progress could be held back by hours.

Harral also knew better than to delay the rivermen. “Well, I’d best let you

get away,” he said. He beckoned impatiently to the lad who was leading out

their mounts. “Hurry it up, Sem! These folk haven’t got all day.”

They were taking four horses, because they would need mounts for Toulac

and Zavahl, if all went well. Ailie had her own plump dappled mare called

Daisy. Her bundles were loaded and secured on one of the spare beasts,

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Maggie Furey - Shadowleague 3 - Echo of Eternity

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