The Severed Realm Read online

  The

  Severed Realm

  The Riven Gates

  Volume Two

  By

  Michael G. Manning

  Cover by Amalia Chitulescu

  Map Artwork by Maxime Plasse

  Editing by Grace Bryan Butler and Keri Karandrakis

  © 2018 by Michael G. Manning

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-943481-27-9

  For more information about the Mageborn series check out the author’s Facebook page:

  https://www.facebook.com/MagebornAuthor

  or visit the website:

  http://www.magebornbooks.com/

  Chapter 1

  It had been more than two weeks since the funeral, and despite Chad Grayson and his liquid encouragement, I hadn’t done much. Most of the Thornbear family had moved to Albamarl and were now staying in the Hightower residence within the city’s massive bailey. Only Gram Thornbear remained in Cameron, but as Chad had predicted, I had my suspicions he might be considering asking me to release him from my service.

  Gram’s fiancée, Alyssa, was still working for me as maid, but her probation would end soon, and I had no doubt she would follow Gram wherever he went. I had intended to talk to Rose before the move, to apologize, but she had been gone before I had recovered from Chad’s ‘counseling.’

  My family was still in mourning for their mother, but my youngest, Irene, seemed to be taking it the hardest. She still felt responsible for her failure to save Penny from the monsters that had wounded her, and it didn’t help that her closest friend, Carissa Thornbear, had moved away.

  Chad and Cyhan both had dragons now, but I saw very little of them. They had taken to the wilderness, ostensibly to ‘patrol,’ but I had a feeling they were up to more than that. My intuition told me that Cyhan was probably helping the hunter adjust to his dragon-bond. Cyhan had never had a dragon before either, but he had had an earth-bond once, so he was already acquainted with the difficulties that came with having extreme physical strength.

  Matthew had been keeping himself locked away, losing himself in whatever project he was currently working on. I hadn’t spoken more than a couple of sentences to him since Penny’s death. He had made it clear that he held me responsible for Penny’s death, and the wound was too fresh for me to approach him. I would have worried more about him, but Karen kept a good eye on him. She was still traveling, expanding her horizons during the day, but she stayed with us in the evenings. More specifically, she slept in his room.

  I wasn’t sure how Penny would have felt about that. We had both worried he might never find someone, and my wife had liked Karen, but she might have balked at allowing them to be so intimate without some sort of official betrothal.

  Moira had spent the first week after the funeral in her room, refusing to engage with anyone, but after that she had come to some sort of decision. I wished I knew what it was. She had left for the city of Halam. I thought she might be helping her friend, Gerold, the new King of Dunbar, but I had no real idea.

  My youngest son, Conall, now Sir Conall, was in Albamarl. Of all my children, I thought perhaps he blamed me the least, but he was hiding from himself. He had been named the Queen’s Champion for his service, saving her life during a recent assassination attempt, and as a result was a minor celebrity among the members of the Queen’s Court. As a younger son, and a middle child, he probably welcomed the attention brought on by his newfound fame.

  Irene kept herself busy with Castle Cameron, and her resolve served to keep the people organized and motivated. She spent most of her days there, using her power to assist in the removal of tons of stone rubble that stood in the way of rebuilding our ancestral home. They had finished clearing the last of it yesterday, and now she was moving on to the outer wall, which had also been partly demolished.

  The obvious conclusion one could draw from all of this was that I was a terrible father. If someone had said that to me a few weeks ago, I would have argued with them, but now I was inclined to agree. Penny had been the glue that held our family together; that was painfully apparent now that she was gone. If I had been a good parent, it was only because of her influence.

  Today would be different, though. I had spent the last few days consulting my memories of what Castle Cameron had been like previously and sketching new plans. The new keep would be larger and stronger, with a better layout. The old one had been originally constructed over three hundred years ago, and later owners had added to it and remodeled parts, resulting in a somewhat chaotic floorplan.

  Building a castle, or even just rebuilding one, was an undertaking that would ordinarily consume years and thousands upon thousands of hours of labor. Building the keep I had planned would be impossible, if it were left to traditional techniques and stone masonry. But I didn’t plan to build it—I wanted to try something new. I would grow it.

  I couldn’t help but remember something I had once been told by the shade of Moira Centyr, “Listen to me, son of Illeniel, and I will tell you what I learned at great cost, once, long ago, ages before you were born. The ability to destroy is the least form of power, though it is the first form that any power will take. Even an infant is able to destroy things, weak though it may be. Using your talent to build, to create, or to restore, those are the greater forms of power; and those forms require time and cultivation to mature.”

  I had later helped her to regain some of her humanity, giving her a body of flesh and blood, and she was now married to Gareth Gaelyn. Unfortunately, she and I were no longer friends, but I still treasured what she had taught me. My life might have turned out better if I had paid closer attention to that particular bit of wisdom; for example, if I had spent more time finishing Penny’s armor instead of running off to destroy ANSIS.

  Today I would create something new, build something stronger than what I had allowed to be destroyed.

  “Are you sure about this, Dad?” asked Irene, looking up at me worriedly. “I’ve never been your miellte before.” The word miellte meant ‘watcher,’ and it was the traditional term for a wizard tasked with keeping an archmage from losing his mind while using metamagic.

  I had used my gift without taking such precautions too many times to count, but there was no reason for me to take risks when help was at hand. “You’ll be fine,” I told her. “Just watch me, and if I seem to be drifting too far, talk to me. Our minds will be linked, so I will hear your thoughts no matter what. You remember the spells I taught you?”

  She nodded, and then added, “But I’ve only been a mage for a few weeks.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I replied. “Being a miellte isn’t a job that requires a lot of skill. The most important thing is the relationship between the archmage and the person acting as miellte. Being my daughter makes you almost perfect for the task.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you. It will make the connection stronger. No matter how lost I become, I’m less likely to ignore your warnings,” I answered calmly.

  I could see the fear in her eyes, the self-doubt. She had lost her mother, and now she feared losing me as well. If I did screw this up, she would be far worse off, but my hope was that if we succeeded she would regain some of her confidence. “Are we ready?” I asked.

  Irene’s eyes unfocused for a moment as she used her magesight to search our surroundings once more. “The courtyard is clear,” she answered.

  Taking her hand in mine, I linked my mind with hers, and then turned my thoughts inward, opening the gates of perception and letting the voices of the world seep into my
soul. Within me, etched with crystalline perfection, were the plans I had laid out for the new keep. Ignoring all the other voices, I focused on the drumbeat of the earth, absorbing it, making it mine.

  My awareness expanded, sinking into the ground. To accomplish what I wanted would require delicacy and precision. Deep below the castle was the Ironheart Chamber, the prison-trap I had once used to trap Karenth, the god of justice. Much of his power was still contained there, and it was important that I not allow the work I was doing now to disturb it. If the enchantment was damaged, it might explode, destroying not just my castle, but the entire region.

  Farther down was the molten sea that would provide the raw materials for my new castle, but that sea wasn’t yet suitable. I made it a part of myself, and then began to draw it up, filtering it with the knowledge contained in the frail flesh and blood brain that stood on the surface. Iron, nickel, copper—these were things I could use.

  The ground began to shake, evidence of a lack of control. Smoothing the rough edges of my mind, I brought the shaking to a stop. I had to be fluid, flawless, and perfect as I poured the blood of the earth into the shapes I desired.

  ***

  Irene stood beside her father, feeling small. She was not particularly short for a girl her age, but standing next to him made her feel diminutive. Once the bond between their minds formed, she felt better, safer, but that illusion vanished quickly as his mind grew distant, changing into something alien. She saw it all through his eyes, but being human, much of it was incomprehensible to her.

  Her father’s hand grew hot, so hot it began to burn her skin, and she gasped when she turned her eyes on him and saw that his body was changing, turning to stone. He had forewarned her of this, so she chanted a quick spell to protect herself from the searing heat.

  The ground trembled for a minute or two before becoming still again, and then she saw a blazing white fountain erupt from the center of where the keep had once stood. It sizzled as it came into contact with the air, throwing sparks in all directions and filling the air with an acrid odor. Irene chanted another spell, building a shield that would not only protect her from stray sparks but also filter the air and keep it clean enough to breathe.

  Her father’s mind was nearly gone. The stone statue standing beside her was merely a remnant—it contained only the tiniest amount of whatever it was he had become—but she clung to it, not just with her hand, but with her heart and mind. I’m still here, Father. Don’t forget me.

  There was no response, but the glowing fountain of liquid metal rose higher, climbing into the air like a golden serpent. It snaked back and forth, and parts of it began to solidify into reddish-orange metal shapes. More continued to pour forth from the earth, as the bones of a massive structure slowly formed in front of her.

  Minutes passed into hours as it grew into a towering construction of heat and metal. She grew tired and her legs grew weak. As the day wore on, she sank to her knees, still holding onto the statue and wishing she had thought to pee before they had started.

  Eventually the metal stopped, and a crackling sound filled the air as a new substance emerged. This new substance was a bright orange, flecked with black—liquid stone. It flowed up and around the metal framework and filled the spaces in between. The sun gradually dropped below the horizon while the keep continued to take shape.

  The moon was high in the sky when the stone portion was finished, and Irene felt certain they were almost done, but it wasn’t over. She wanted to cry when sand and soil began to rise from a dozen points around the new keep, flowing in to smother the burning rock. Father, I’m tired. I can’t keep this up, she entreated him silently, but again, there was no response.

  The sand and earth buried everything, but it didn’t stay still. It moved, shifting and pressing on the leviathan of stone beneath it. The moon set, and darkness covered the world, but her inhuman father’s work went on ceaselessly.

  At some point, Irene’s desire to relieve herself had disappeared, gradually replaced by sensations of thirst and hunger. Something was wrong. She knew it. It shouldn’t have taken this long. She still felt the presence of a strange intellect in the stone, but she couldn’t say for certain that it was her father anymore. If he was gone, it was her fault. It had been her job to keep him anchored to his humanity.

  Dawn had come by the time the sand started receding, disappearing into the earth, leaving behind a gleaming black edifice. It hardly mattered to Irene. Sitting on the ground next to the pillar of stone that had once been her father, she felt hopeless. Her arm was numb and aching from being held raised over her head for hours, but the real pain was in her heart.

  She had failed. Mom, I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it. Now he’s gone too. The world went silent as she bowed her head and closed her eyes. After a time, she lapsed into unconsciousness.

  Sometime later, someone found her. Irene felt herself lifted, cradled in strong arms. Long hair tickled her face, and when she opened her eyes she finally understood. I’m dreaming.

  Her mother was carrying her, a look of concern on her face. Irene stared up at her, thinking, If this is a dream, let me stay asleep a while longer.

  Eventually Penny stopped and knelt, setting Irene down on a cold stone floor. “Sorry, sweetheart, I wanted to take you home, but I couldn’t find the way. It looks like the old entrance is gone. The keep is completely changed. Rest here until your father returns.”

  “I lost him, Momma. He can’t come back,” said Irene sadly. “I lost both of you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Penny, stroking her daughter’s hair. “He’ll be back, I promise you. You did well.”

  “This is just a dream, isn’t it?” said Irene.

  Penny nodded. “Yes, but sometimes dreams are just as important as the real world.” She sat down next to her daughter. “Have you eaten?”

  Irene shook her head. “No.”

  Her mother scowled and then sighed. “Your father—I’d love to give him a stern talking to right now. Tell him I said he’d better take better care of you.”

  Irene sniffed, trying not to cry. “He’s not doing so well, Mom. Things aren’t the same since, since you…”

  “Shhh, I know. But he still needs to snap out of it. He has a lot of people to help him, if he would let them. What are your brothers and sisters doing?”

  Irene started talking, giving her mother a summary of what had been happening, describing the distance that had grown between her siblings. The more she talked, the more agitated her mother became.

  Eventually, Penny stopped her. “So they’ve just dumped everything on you? That isn’t right. The oldest should be the one to step up first!”

  “Well, Matthew is—”

  “I know exactly how he is, but what about Moira?” Penny paused and then growled softly to herself. Then she spoke again, “I know what you need to do.”

  “What?” asked Irene, hopeful again.

  “Talk to Rose. She knows how to handle them, and she has more than enough spine to slap your father into shape,” said Penny.

  “She’s gone,” said Irene, tears welling again. “They got into an argument, I think. She moved back to Albamarl with Carissa and Elise.”

  Penny looked thoughtful. “Hmmm. He told me they had a fight, but I didn’t think it was that serious. You need to go to the capital, then. Talk to her, explain things, just as you did with me. She’ll understand.”

  “I don’t think so, Mom. She won’t listen to me…”

  “Then tell her I said it, and if she doesn’t fix it, then I’ll haunt her!” snapped Penny.

  “But this is a dream. I can’t…”

  Penny put a finger over her daughter’s lips. “I already told you. Sometimes dreams are more important than what we think is real. Trust me.”

  After that she held her daughter, the two of them leaning against the cold stone wall until Irene dri
fted off again.

  Chapter 2

  I woke up cold, stiff, and sore. My right arm had gone to sleep, and my back was explaining to the rest of me that it wasn’t going to take this sort of treatment anymore. Glancing around, I realized I was in the bailey. How the hell did I get here?

  My last good memory was of the construction of the castle. I had gone deep into the mind of the earth—too deep, perhaps. Usually I could at least recall the return, but this time it was just a blank after a certain point.

  Irene was leaning against me. Had she brought us here after I finished? It bothered me that I didn’t know. I tried to ease out from under her, but as soon as I moved, she groaned and opened her eyes. “Dad?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I told her. “Did it turn out like I planned?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How did we wind up in the bailey?” I asked.

  She frowned. “I had a strange dream.”

  I grinned at her. “So, you dreamed us here?”

  Irene shook her head. “I don’t think so. I was carried—that was you, right?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. I get really weird when I go that deep. I don’t remember much. Let’s go home.”

  The heat radiating from the new keep engulfed us as soon as we left the bailey. It felt similar to being in an oven, or at least as I imagined it would feel if I were ever inside an oven. That was one of the few forms of torture I hadn’t been subjected to yet. Give it time, I thought. Sooner or later someone will find a way to remedy that gap in my education.

  We hurried into the transfer house and took the newest circle back to our hidden home in the mountains. Lynaralla found us within moments of entering the house.

  “Welcome home,” said the She’Har girl.

  There was something odd about her appearance, but it took me a moment to figure out what it was. “Lynaralla, why are you wearing an apron?”

  “It seemed prudent to wear the proper protective gear for the task,” she answered.