Since then, there has been no irionite in the Five Duchies. Few modern
magi have heard more than legends about it. Much of the lore about it was
lost during the invasion. While it is rumored that some of the old Imperial
families managed to preserve some within their secret cabals, the green
amber itself was nearly mythical until a decade ago, when the Mad Mage of
Farise used a tiny chunk of it to start sinking Ducal warships and upsetting
the lives of thousands of Ducal citizens (myself included) in a nasty little
war.
And now a goblin shaman had gotten a hold of a witchstone more than
twice as large as the Farisian fragment. And the gurvani didn't have all of
the noble and idealistic restraints on its use that the Magocracy or Farise
had – and even less reason to like us, after the Goblin Wars. If there were
more stones like this from where the shaman came from, there would be
more trouble. A lot more.
I tried to explain what I had found to Sire Koucey and Sir Cei as well as
I could, but the understanding a country knight has for such esoteric matters
is minimal. Koucey looked thoughtfully at the stone while Sir Cei prepared
to dispatch scouts into the mountains, searching for any more signs of
gurvani activity.
Very carefully I reached down and scooped up the stone in a cloth.
What little is known about the stones suggest that they have a kind of
sentience of their own, or at least a magical connection with their wielder. It
seemed imprudent to allow my bare skin to contact it. I carefully wrapped it
and tucked it into a pouch on my belt.
Koucey looked confused and disturbed, as he should have been. "What
is such a potent implement doing in the hand of a goblin witchdoctor?
Surely those beasts don't know its power."
I shook my head. "My lord, the gurvani have inhabited these hills long
before our ancestors came here. And it is said that the reason that the
Duchies, and the Empire before them, have produced so many magi while
other lands have but few, is that the forests and mountains where these
creatures live have some magical essence that flows downstream with the
rivers, and thus invigorates the natural talents of our people. I grew up on a
riverbank myself, though there didn't seem to be anything particularly
special about it."
"Yet despite all his power you slew this one without too much
difficulty." He said it as if it settled the matter.
"No, my lord. I slew him because I took him by surprise, and he was not
expecting a trained warmage to attack, only helpless villagers running in
fear. Had I been a second later, or even a little less aggressive, he would
have erased this village from this valley like a child stomping on an
anthill."
Sire Koucey looked down at the shaman's corpse with new respect, and
not a little fear. He sighed heavily.
"I feared that the goblins had been stirred up. There have been signs. It
happens every few decades, or so. Usually a few raids are sufficient to
convince them to keep within their holes and away from our frontiers. I
never heard of them attacking in this strength, nor this deep into our
country. What is your advice, Master Minalan?" asked Sire Koucey calmly,
as if we were discussing cattle over a beer in the market.
"I would like to think that this is a mere raid for food or treasure, but the
evidence here doesn't support that," I said. "This looks more like a war
party scouting our defenses, not a chicken-stealing adventure. And it is
unlikely that this was an isolated event, as much as I would like it to be so.
My lord, if the gurvani are on the move, and they have more of these
witchstones, then all of your people are in peril. I would look strongly to
their defense."
That settled the matter. "Sir Cei," the old knight snapped.
"My lord?"
"Prepare the castle for siege. Send word to my brother to do likewise at
Brandmont, and dispatch riders to the Towers to make ready. Summon the
militia to service, and break out the armory for immediate drill. Have
sentries posted at each village, and send a message to the Lords of Presan
and Gans informing them of the situation. They will send word to Count
Ramoth and the Duke."
"Aye, milord."
And, just like that, we were at war.
"Minalan, I am going to ask you to investigate this matter on your own.
You seem to know what you are doing."
"Yes, Sire. I shall begin at once. I shall take that stone back to my
laboratory for study. Perhaps some answers may be gleaned from it. And
under the circumstances, I feel a trip to the north of the valley would be
wise."
Koucey looked startled. "You mean to involve the Tree Folk?"
"The Tree Folk are involved only in what they want to be, my lord. I
merely wish to put a few questions to them. Their long acquaintance with
the area might prove useful."
"As you wish," the knight said, slowly, scratching his bald pate.
"Though I don't know what kind of help they can provide."
"Something, perhaps, some clue. They are wise and have long haunted
these vales. If they will treat with me, they may shed some light on this. I
dearly hope so, or we are likely all doomed