Ringwall's Doom. Wolf Awert

any of you tell me where he is, or the last time he was seen?”

      The magon’s tone had not lasted for more than a sentence. He was angered, and he showed it.

      “I have felt a weakening of the circle for only a few days,” Queschella answered. She was the Archmage of Water and the only woman on the council. “I never considered it important; Brother Nill’s contribution to the circle’s power was never great,” she muttered with a disapproving glance at Ambrosimas, who showed no sign of having listened.

      “Although, the blame is not his own; the young man had no example to follow in that regard,” Nosterlohe added haughtily.

      Ambrosimas remained impassive.

      Bar Helis slammed his fist down on the magical Onyx. “Enough. We all know what to think of Brother Ambrosimas, but our dear Archmage of Thoughts is not what we’re here for. We were talking about our Brother Nill.”

      My Brother Nill, your Brother Nill, our Brother Nill. Don’t make me laugh, you puffed up, pompous prattler, Ambrosimas thought. He did not have the time to finish his thought; Bar Helis rode his attack in a full gallop.

      “I agree with you, Sister Queschella. Nill’s contribution to the circle was small. But if I may remind you all, the boy succeeded in killing Mah Bu, and Mah Bu was an archmage. Powerful and experienced.”

      Bar Helis observed with satisfaction that several faces around the table darkened.

      “Mah Bu was a fool, and now he’s dead. Of course his experience was undeniable. But the powers of the Other World cannot always be tamed. Every Archmage of the Other World lives a dangerous life.” Ambrosimas’ voice was flat and dispassionate. Such an Ambrosimas was a new appearance at the High Council, and everyone wondered what game the Archmage of Thoughts was playing this time.

      “Is that right? A fool, was he?” Bar Helis flared up. “To me, there are only two explanations. Either Brother Nill received aid from within the council, or…”

      Bar Helis did not have the opportunity to finish his sentence. Beneath the weight of this accusation the Onyx heaved and fired flashes through the room. Gnarlhand leapt up and laid his hands on the stone, sending all his power into the cracks. He would not be able to save it again.

      “Magon!” he shouted agitatedly. “You cannot allow such suspicions to spread! We need the stone.”

      The magon jerked up. Nobody knew where he had been in his thoughts. Several of those present noted that his face had gone gray. His features were, as always, straight and angular, but the skin sagged a little here and there. The visions must have cost the magon dearly.

      “We should hunt Nill down and force him to admit he is the Changer.” Fiery in spirit and mind, Nosterlohe always preferred quick and effective solutions, but the magon disagreed.

      “You think it is so easy. Nosterlohe! Bar Helis! You seek the Changer and so everything unusual is your quarry. But the world is not so simple, fate is not so transparent. Even if our brother is the Changer, he does not know it. No one could live with the knowledge that they must one day destroy the world. Questioning will lead nowhere. And remember, Brothers and Sisters, my visions have not changed. The figure has barely left the mists, and all around him rages the din of war. These images do not match Brother Nill.”

      “Why give fate a chance?” To everyone’s surprise Nosterlohe did not give up. “As easily as we made him an archmage, so too can we banish him from our midst. Thoroughly, if you understand my meaning. We would be rid of many troubles and could focus on more important things once more.”

      The Onyx understood Nosterlohe’s meaning and creaked ominously.

      Ambrosimas’ voice added little. “Such as?” The acerbic derision cut through his densely-woven aura.

      “Brothers,” Gnarlhand said soothingly. “Our disunity has broken the Onyx once before. What do you think will happen if we decide to eliminate one of our own?”

      The Onyx had stopped sending out the bolts and flashes. Its sudden silence was only interrupted by an occasional crackling.

      “There is, of course, another possibility.”

      Ambrosimas had chosen to speak in thoughts, countering Nosterlohe’s loud voice with his own silence. A wave of pale blue light shot through the Onyx. In silence there was often more strength than in thunder.

      “The Archmage of Nothing was chosen by fate, and is on our side. He will know what to do. We should let he go wherever he wants. He will guide us to the right place and show us what he seeks. I will send a follower after him, so quiet that even the snakes cannot feel its steps, so quick that the wind believes it doesn’t exist.”

      Bar Helis’ expression darkened further still, and sparks shot out of the stone before him, but it was Murmon-Som who spoke.

      “Nill, our savior and the answer to destiny itself. Please, Brothers. This is children’s talk, fairy-tales for the gullible. And to send a follower after him – as if we are a horned husband, jealously running after an unfaithful wife. Brother Ambrosimas, please.” Murmon-Som smiled. Several archmages chuckled, and Ambrosimas’ aura grew denser. “But there is one more thing to consider, something none of us can explain.”

      Eight pairs of eyes looked expectantly at Murmon-Som. Only Ambrosimas kept his gaze fixed on the Onyx.

      “It is the magic of Nothing,” Murmon-Som answered the unspoken question. “It entered into our world, found a place in the Sanctuary and pushed its chair into our circle. In the beginning, I heard, it was just a small space between two chairs. As long as we fail to understand why the Nothing is among us, and Brother Nill is the only one who is in no danger when contacting this mystifying magic, it would be unwise to… remove him. I therefore suggest we send out our hunters and beg Nill to return. Should we still believe Nosterlohe’s idea necessary, we might yet act upon it at a later date. But in a time of such danger as we are in now, when our entire future hangs in the balance, we would do well to keep our young archmage at our side. At all times.”

      Murmon-Som’s words crept across the table and unfolded their potential slowly, like a delicate poison. The first heads began to nod in agreement without noticing it, for none of them liked Nill’s absence. Others saw only precious time lost and hesitated. In the end, even Bar Helis agreed.

      Murmon-Som hid his satisfaction masterfully, aided in no small part by his sickly appearance. Rarely were the eyes of the council upon him, and if they were, it was a mere formality. The shadow Mah Bu had cast upon the circle was long, and Murmon-Som would need time to be heard. He did not mind. Being underestimated was a strength he could use.

      Only the cracked Onyx spoke a different language. It had thrown wild sparks when Bar Helis’ passion had got the better of him. It glowed in a pale blue light before the chair of Nothing, as though Nill was still there. Only in front of the magon and Keij-Joss it showed nothing but a gray shimmer, and it seemed to avoid Ambrosimas altogether. Occasionally there was a flash of light in the darkness, or a crackle along the fractured edges. Murmon-Som looked over at Ambrosimas concern. At first it had bothered him that he could not read the Onyx – now it was a real worry. But he seemed alone in this; the others did not appear to care.

      After a short moment in which those present either followed their own thoughts or waited attentively for a decision to be made, the magon arose from his chair.

      “All have said what they had to say. Nill, our Brother and Archmage of Nothing, is still at his core a mage, and the place where a mage fulfills his duties is in Ringwall. My patience is at an end. Bring him back. I will remind him of his duties personally.”

      His use of the word “personally” drove shivers down many a spine. It had never been a good idea to anger the magon, and this time he was quaking with rage.

      “I would like to make a suggestion.” Murmon-Som did not intend to let his opportunity slip. “As no one knows where our brother is, nor in what sort of danger