Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy by Cas Peace Read Free Book Online Page A

brain had returned to normal. His confidence was only restored after two more days of careful experimentation.
He knew Cal was relieved to see he’d recovered; his Apprentice had been hovering around him even more than Rienne did. Now the two of them stood side-by-side in the cellar, preparing to open another portway.
     
Despite the risks of opening a breach in the Veils in a populated area, Taran felt safe building the portway in the cellar. He was hidden from prying eyes and the cellar’s thick stone walls and deliberately concave floor helped contain the small leakage of Earth element he wasn’t yet strong enough to control.
     
The Staff still lay in the center of the floor. Taran didn’t want to touch it again and he had forbidden Cal to do so. His intention was to raise Earth force directly under the Staff and form the portway with the weapon already inside. Once the Veils were breached, he would use his metaforce to push it through to Andaryon. He did worry that it might damage whoever picked it up, but he forced himself to ignore his conscience. He had to get rid of the Staff.
     
Now the two men stood side-by-side, eyes closed and arms outstretched, palms facing downward to direct the flow of metaforce into the rock of the floor. Quieting his mind, Taran felt deep within until he could access his psyche. Its familiarity surrounded him, flooding him with metaforce.
     
Turning his attention to Cal, Taran could feel him doing the same. Cal was slower, less confident, but his strength was growing. Soon he was ready and Taran felt him give control of his power to his mentor.
     
Linked to Cal, Taran isolated the areas of their psyches that were attuned to the element of Earth. His senses sank into the rock beneath his feet, calling to the forces buried there. With a thrill that never failed to move him, he felt the weighty rise as the primal element responded to his call. Trying not to lose concentration, he drew it into the shallow depression in the floor. Slowly, as he called for more power, sluggish tendrils of Earth force began to lick at his feet.
     
Opening his eyes, he nodded to Cal. It was his Apprentice’s task to mold this energy into a spherical portway, but it had to be done slowly and carefully so no gaps appeared in the construction.
     
When Cal had completed the portway, he opened his eyes, looking to Taran for approval. Forming portways was his latest achievement and he was proud of his new ability.
     
Taran smiled. “Well done, Cal.”
     
He anchored the structure within the substance of the Veils so it would remain firm. Pushing aside the slight headache he always felt when expending power, he drew a breath and prepared to activate the portway.
     
The Staff still lay quiescent; it hadn’t reacted to the primal element. But when Taran’s metaforce touched the portway, there was a subtle change. Frowning, he glanced at Cal, but his Apprentice hadn’t noticed. When he looked back at the portway, his skin began to crawl.
     
Slowly, ominously, its color was changing. Usually portways were translucent, an opalescent mist shot through with the odd spark of silver or gold, occasionally red. This one, however, was beginning to take on a greenish tinge, much like the color of the Staff. Taran didn’t like it one bit.
     
Either Cal sensed Taran’s unease or he finally noticed what was happening. He shot Taran a look. “Why’s it doing that?”
     
Taran bristled at the question. “How should I know? Maybe it’s something to do with the Staff. It’s an Andaryan artifact, who knows what effect it might have? Let’s get this over with, Cal. The sooner that thing’s back where it belongs, the happier I’ll be.”
     
Cal raised no argument and Taran turned back to the portway. Exerting his will, he drew power to activate it. The shimmer grew hazier, as it should, but the strange color intensified. Taran felt prickling down his spine and tried to ignore it. Gently, he put pressure on the