Dragon Hearstone > Chapter 2–The Grand Council

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An hour later, Brecc found himself on the floor of another small room, different than the one he had left.

Dathon looked down at him, a rare grin on his face. “Welcome to Dorchadas, home of the Grand Council.”

Brecc sat up, and his head spun. Trying to contain his nausea, he asked, “How could that be? Dorchadas is at least a week from Bretagne.”

“By horse, yes, but we traveled by portal.” He turned and walked toward the door at the room’s far end. “Come, we have much to do.”

Clawing up to his knees, Brecc stood. But then his knees buckled, and he fell against the passage wall. “Wait.”

Dathon opened the door, then turned and looked back. “The portal is difficult if you have never done it before.”

Catching himself, Brecc felt along the wall until he reached the door. “Where are we going?” he asked.

Dathon stared at the ceiling in annoyance. “To gain an audience with the Council.”

Brecc tried to nod, but his stomach lurched, and he vomited on Dathon’s boots.

The Magus grimaced. “But now, of course, we must change our clothes.”

* * *

In the anteroom of the Council chambers, Dathon paced incessantly, glancing only briefly at Brecc, who stood on a portico looking across many rooftops of the capital of Finoral. For two days, the Council had been considering his proposal. Then, just after dawn, he had been summoned, only to sit and wait. Meanwhile, the hours and the opportunity continued to slip away. Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a messenger ushered them into a small, windowless room. Shadows danced on the walls as candles flickered.

Dathon stood rigidly in front of a large wooden table, behind which sat seven men. He knew the Council well, and they stared at him with rigid, creased faces evoking no emotion. In the middle was the Council elder, Aranius, a thoroughly gray-haired and bearded man with many lines and wrinkles on his withered face. He leaned forward, cupping his chin on his intertwined hands.

“We have carefully considered your proposal,” Aranius said in a raspy voice, “and have concluded that it has merit.”

Dathon struggled to suppress a grin.

“However,” the Head Councilman continued. “We will change some aspects to better suit our needs.”

Dathon’s face froze. What changes?

“Your proposal has a high potential, and the council is interested in seeing it succeed. Therefore, we are taking a more direct role in ensuring this plan is carried out. You will be assisted by our representative, Viperious, who will ensure you get all the help you need,” Aranius said.

The figure to Aranius’ right stood and leaned forward. Candlelight lay upon his lean and angular face, giving it sharp edges and deep shadowy hollows. He looked over at Arianius. “With your permission, Your Excellency, I need to speak with Dathon alone.”

Arianius nodded and tapped his staff twice. “Very well, the Council is dismissed.”

Chairs scraped across the floor as the Council members rose and left the chamber. One of the members assisted Aranius out a side entrance. Finally, all that was left was Dathon, Viperious, and Brecc.

* * *

Viperious strolled around the table. “Tell me, Dathon. What happened in Bretagne?”

The Magus’ face grew warm. “We were betrayed—”

“No,” Viperious replied, cutting him off. “Because of you, Bretagne is lost to us. The price for failure is death.”

Dathon’s heart began beating wildly and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

The Councilman’s eyes settled on Brecc. “Do you believe in second chances?”

After clearing his throat, the man answered, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Viperious’ eyes shifted back to the Magus. “Then you’re in luck because I do too.”

Dathon raggedly exhaled as his pulse rate slowed.

Viperious turned away and scooped up a scroll off the table. “We are going to implement your plan immediately.”

Dathon had hoped for that but saw no way it could be done quickly. “It’s going to take weeks to get everything in place.”

“The Council has authorized me to do everything necessary to ensure success.”

“So, your approval is all we need to move forward?”

Viperious stuck the scroll into Dathon’s hand. “Yes.”

On the one hand, Dathon felt a surge of satisfaction. Not having to worry about Council approval would significantly speed up events. But this was so unlike the Council. What was happening? It smelled almost like an act of desperation.

Viperious seemed to read his mind. “The Council is very concerned about having a stable government in Bretagne, one that is strong enough to resist outside interference.”

“The Nagun can be defeated,” the Magus retorted.

“They are the least of our worries. The bigger threat is from Drachnor.”

Dathon pursed his lips. Rumors had reached him in Bretagne of a dark wizard uniting Drachnorians. “You aren’t putting faith in gossip, are you?”

After a glance toward the side door, Viperious replied. “Are you aware that Brother Assiduous was murdered on his way to Tenoach?”

What has that to do with anything? “No, but I’m aware that area is hazardous. Did you catch who did it?”

“No, but we know who she is.”

“A woman killed him? Was it an assassin?”

“It was Faline.”

Dathon furrowed his brow. How could anyone believe that mythical she-witch of legend was alive? Moreover, how could someone from the Council promote such a heretical fantasy? “You believe this fairy tale?”

“Ignoring her existence is the fairy tale. We know she exists. One of Assiduous’ guards provided evidence.”

Dathon shook his head. “That’s hardly credible. Blaming Faline for failing to do his task sounds like an excuse.”

“So we also thought, but I extracted the memories from his mind myself.”

A chill ran through Dathon—more heresy. Mind sifting was a dark art–forbidden magic–which also killed. “Why would you resort to such measures?”

“We had to be certain that he was speaking the truth. But now we have no doubt. Faline has returned, and she is focused on Bretagne.”

That explains why my plan has the Council’s backing. Dathon unrolled the scroll and scanned the contents. Mostly, it remained unchanged, but the timetable was greatly accelerated. “We are going to need to contact the Brotherhood.”

“I have already done so. Prepare to leave by this evening. We must be in Tenoach by tomorrow night.”

Dathon nodded, then turned to look at Brecc. “Then we must travel by portal again.” The man’s face nearly turned green. “Do not eat anything before we leave,” he added.

The Magus then smiled thinly as the rest of the color drained from the man’s face but felt bile rise in his stomach. Despite his plan becoming a reality, he now had unwanted baggage. At that thought, he cast a glance at Viperious.

The man nodded. “You may go.”

Dathon grabbed a sweating Brecc by the arm. Together, they marched toward the door. Even as resentment simmered, the Magus pushed it aside. He was getting his chance at redemption and would succeed, regardless of who might get in the way.