Chapter Seven.
Callian watched with a sense of excitement as the Merfolk and Centaurs greeted his grandfather, he could not hear what they were saying from this distance and remembering his grandfather's warnings dared not use his Magic to listen in on their conversation in case they detect the intrusion. The warn reception Denevan and Belor received from the Mer Chieftain was a welcome sight and the good cheer that flowed from him gave him hope for this meeting, however, the Centaurs seemed to take offence at the joyful reunion between old friends and the horse-man's harsh snorting and powerful stomping could be heard even from this distance.
His mother's quiet voice pulled him from his observations as Amerytha uttered a curse. "Blessed Magic! That is Chromis, he was one of the most hunted beings in Britain in the last War."
Callian stared at the Centaur that his mother indicated, it appeared to be one of the huge warriors that stood still and silent behind the gathering of Elders. Even from where they stood Callian could see the Centaurs cold gaze sweeping his surrounding, in one huge hand, the horse-man held a spear that glinted in the afternoon sun.
Silver runes had been etched into the blade and haft that seemed to blaze with a cold light, there was a part of him that itched to get a closer look at the spear and he knew he would be searching for the Centaur later. He continued to look at this Chromis for a while longer, his keen eyes tracing the runes when he found the powerful being's cold gaze boring into his own.
He found himself unable to look away as Chromis stared deep into him as searching for something that only he could see, Callian could not sense any Magic being used but regardless he threw more of his power into his mental shields as he continued to hold the Centaurs gaze.
A smirk danced across the Centaurs face before he gave a slight bow of his head in Callian's direction, he heard his mother let out a relieved sigh as she placed a hand upon his arm.
"Well done, my sweet boy. I was unsure of how he would react, the last time I met him he had taken apart an entire party of the Dark Lords forces before retreating to Merlin only knows where...His hatred for men is legend."
Callian found himself letting out a relieved breath, only to gasp as he watched a wizened old Centaur lash out in a brutal kick that knocked another of the Elders down into the rest of its companions. About him, he could feel his grandfather's Apprentices reaching for their Magic, the familiar feel of weaves beginning to form as they prepared to defend their master.
Callian was only seconds behind them as he quickly formed balls of pure force in his hands, at his side Harry had instinctively reached for his wand while Adria and Hermione had slowly done the same as they moved next to their parents.
Amerytha slowly raised her hand as she too gathered her power, however much to their amazement the old crone turned and began to shout down its fellows before they watched as both Denevan and the ancient Centaur offered their hands in friendship.
Slowly the Magi dismissed their spells as a cheer went up from the Merfolk, Callian found himself letting out a sigh as his grandfather led the leaders of their respective races back towards the festivities and the large central pavilion that had erected for them.
Slowly Callian fell into step behind them but he felt eyes lingering upon him as he walked and he saw Harry too casting his gaze about, moving closer to his friend he leaned in close.
"You feel it as well?" He uttered in a whisper, his eyes never stopping their search as they roamed over the crowds.
They had just reached the large open-sided pavilion when Callian spotted the figure clad in a black cloak with their hood drawn up to cover their face, all that he could make out of the figure was a thin wispy goatee that lay like silken cobwebs upon the person's chest.
Following his gaze, Harry looked upon the cloaked figure and he faltered in his steps.
"Who is that?!" He hissed in alarm, his eyes never leaving the stranger.
A glint of silver in the afternoon silver drew Callians attention and he reared in alarm as he recognised the figure, slowly he placed a hand upon Harry's shoulder. "They are an ally of my family, there's nothing to worry about." He offered the figure a low bow of his head before he ushered Harry on, they had fallen behind he realised with a start and it would not do to upset their guests.
Hurry to catch up to the rest of their party, Callian quickly reported their added visitor to his grandfather and mother who seemed momentarily shocked but put the issue aside for now.
Callian found himself letting out a small gasp of surprise as he got his first look into the pavilion.
A long wood fire burned merrily in the centre, thin wisps of sweet-smelling smoke drifting up through an opening in the roof. Several spits had been erected over the flames, huge, fat hogs slowly rotating off their own volition as several of Belors household cooks coated them with a honey glaze. Large tables had been laid out, already full of fruits, salads and platters of seasoned meats and spiced fish as Denevan invited everyone to help themselves. He idly noted the large decanters of wine and brandy and casks of ale that littered about them, he had to fight a grin as he watched several of the dwarves already helping themselves to foaming flagons of the dark ale they seemed so fond of.
There was no high seats or chairs of any kind, just laden tables and thick rugs and soft cushions for all to sit upon, Callian could only think his grandfather and father wise for this as it put no one above any other. Here and now all sat as equals as they helped themselves to food and drink as members of the four races talked freely for the first time in centuries.
Making their way towards his mother and grandfather, Callian and his friends had just taken their seats with a variety of trays full of spiced delicacies and sweet fruits when he found the gaze of the wizened crone following them.
Looking up into those black eyes was one of the most disconcerting experiences of his young life, he had the sense that nothing was able to hide from the Centaurs gaze.
One by one the ancient looked at them all, each of them feeling as if the Centaur was prying through every facet of their being.
Callian threw everything he had behind his mental defences but it did nothing to quell that probing gaze, when he saw Hermione and Adria begin to cower, he had enough and deftly weaved a shield into existence about all of them.
Harry continued to stare into the Centaurs eyes but his hand rose seemingly of its own accord and fell upon Callian's shoulder, almost immediately the Blackwood heir felt a river of power flood into him as Harry instinctively joined his magic with his own. Where before only a faint distortion marked the existence of the barrier surrounding them, now it held a pale blue glow as it rippled about them in a protective dome.
Silence fell about them as the other occupants of the pavilion noticed the swelling Magic, finally, the penetrating gaze softened and the crone let out a rasping cackle as if he had found the answers he sought.
Turning his long face towards Denevan and Amerytha, the crone grinned at them revealing teeth stained a deep blue.
"You have raised your younglings well," his gaze took in the parents of all the first years. "All of you have. I see strength in them and courage that rivals the heroes of old"
One gnarled finger jabbed towards each of them.
"A healers heart," he barked as he held that crooked claw towards Adria, slowly the pointing finger moved to hover over Hermione. "A scholars mind."
Harry continued to glare at the Centaur as the ancients blue toothed grin bore down on him as he moved to point towards the boy. "The Shield against the Dark."
Slowly that gnarled finger moved until it was pointing straight at Callian. "The Sword that will remake the world."
The tent was deathly still as the world seemed to be holding its breath, the Centaurs seemed to filled with a jittery excitement as the wizened Elder clambered to its feet from where it lay amidst a pile of soft cushions.
On shaking legs it moved towards them as if gripped by some unseen power and Callian threw even more of his magic into the shield about them.
The Centaurs eyes rolled back in his head as he pressed forward, his gnarled hand still pointing towards them all as its voice took on a deeper, ominous quality.
The Arbiters of Fate awaken.
At their hands, nations rise and Empires fall.
Fire and blood will flow like rivers in their wake,
Darkness walks with them like a second shadow.
It will hound them. It will seek to silence them.
Out of the ruins of War, a new dawn may rise,
Heralding an Age of Magic unseen since the Gods walked the world.
Slowly the Centaursarm dropped and the Elder seemed to stumble as it moved back towards its cushion pile, about them the Centaurs went wild as they cheered and reared.
Callian had yet to drop his shield and he could see others about the pavilion holding their own protections in place as they backed away from the seemingly crazed horsemen, slowly things died down as the huge figure of the Centaur that Callian had seen guarding the elders stepped forward.
Holding one hand up high, Chromis waved for silence among his kinsmen. "Peace my brothers," looking about the tent at the anxious faces he could see the Centaur bowed his head in apology towards the direction of Denevan, Belor and Khurlmor.
"My people mean no offence," Chromis looked towards them as Callian still held the barrier. "Nor did we mean to startle the younglings, among my people a foretelling is a joyous thing. A sign that the Gods look down on us with favour, to have one upon the solstice an even greater occurrence and is seen as a thing of great honour."
About them the Centaurs still seemed full of good cheer as any hesitation that they had harboured fled with the words spoken by the wizened ancient, slowly Callian cut off feeding power into his shield and the magic slowly faded away.
Harry and Callian quickly ushered the girls to the waiting arms of their mothers, with a last look at their friends' worried faces the two of them moved to stand with Denevan and Belor who were looking at the weary Elder upon the floor.
The Dwarf was the first to speak as he turned to look at the two of them as they approached, Callian found himself unable to read his father's familiar face as he looked at them.
"No harm was done, just took everyone by surprise is all." Chromis bowed his head low at the Dwarfs quiet words, all knew that was as far as the Centaurs were willing to go in offering an apology.
Callian found himself wondering just what was going on, had the Elder been referring to them when he had spoken. The words seemed to hang heavy in his mind as if they carried a great weight to them that forced them to linger.
His Grandfather had yet to speak, the man just continued to try and bore a hole into the ancient Centaur with his gaze.
Callian shared a brief look with Harry, his friend just shrugged his shoulders in turn before Denevan cleared his throat loudly and ushered everyone to return to the festivities.
Callian made to speak to his grandfather but the old man turned to look at him with an unreadable expression before his eyes shifted to Harry and then to the girls besides their mothers.
Slowly his face softened and Callian felt himself relax as Denevan lowered himself to their level as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders and gave it a firm squeeze, Callian could not tell if he did that to reassure them or himself at that moment.
"Go and enjoy the festival with your friends, Belor and I need to talk to Magthen but we shall be along shortly." Looking at Callian, Denevan indicated the gathered group of concerned parents. "Your mother will no doubt be reassuring our guests but tell them I will explain everything to them this evening."
With that, he stood and began to walk away from them but stopped after only a few paces and called back over his shoulder. "And send word to Jastor to begin the preparations for the festival, I want everything in place for the Gathering."
Callian could only nod as watched his grandfather walk away, but his eyes moved slowly to take in the still exhausted Centaur laying upon the cushions as the creature seemed to be busying itself by stuffing a handful of blue herbs into its mouth. It seemed that this Magthen had answers to the questions that were churning through him at this very moment, he may have to seek out the Centaurs when he returned to the school and try and find the answers he sought.
However, one thought lingered above all in his mind.
Just what did it mean to be an Arbiter of Fate and why did that title send an unpleasant shiver down his spine.
After sending one of the Dwarven servants off with a message to Jastor, Callian joined his mother in comforting the worried parents of Adria and Hermione. It took a little while to reassure them all that there was nothing to be concerned about as he coaxed them all into enjoying the wonders of the festival, slowly everyone relaxed as fast music, good food and drinks of every sort flowed like water.
Callian watched from afar as his grandfather and Dagün discussed whatever it was they were talking about, but soon he too was lost amidst the good cheer of the crowds.
He had laughed himself silly when Harry had been swept off his of his feet by one of the female Mer, he soon joined him by twirling a laughing Beverly Clearwater into the fray as a lively tune as started.
Night descended quickly and soon the festivities wound down as a sense of expectation swept through the crowd, soon the people started moving towards the clearing the four races had met in only a few hours previously.
Callian led his friends and their families towards his mother as she stood in the centre of the press of bodies, about them his grandfather and the Apprentices guided everyone into position. Callian could see several covered objects sat near Jastor as the older wizard careful worked over an intricate ritual circle that looped and curled under their very feet. About the meadow, other smaller circles had been created all linking back to the central circle being worked upon by his friend.
The intricacy of it was mind-boggling, the control and concentration that was needed to even activate something on this scale were monumental. Carefully he lifted one foot to see the several arcane sigils scorched into the ground, leaning closer he could see the faintest glint of a single unbroken line of silver dust running through them.
A small part of him wanted to send his magic running along that line, to feel out and connect with the ritual but he held himself back as he knew that he could potentially ruin everything before it even began. Working alongside his mother he helped to guide everyone into position, the Clearwater and Grangers' were shocked when they were being invited to participate.
He could hear them questioning his mother as she had the stand before a sigil on the floor.
"But My lady, we have no Magic of our own. How can we be a part of this?" Evelyn asked with some trepidation in her voice.
His mother placed a comforting hand upon her arm before explaining. "One of the greatest laws of this universe is that life can not exist without the spark of Magic to ignite it. There is Magic in everything, from the air you breathe to the food you eat. So while you may not have enough Magic within you to actively add to the Gathering, you can still participate in the Ritual. Callian and I will link everyone together and connect with the greater assembly."
His mother pointed towards the rest of the meadow where they could see a grey-clad individual with every group. "Each Apprentice will link to my father, and he alone will guide the flow of Magic into whatever it is they have concocted this year."
Offering the women one last smile she took her place in the Circle after checking to ensure that Callian had positioned everyone correctly.
Receiving a nod from his mother Callian began drawing on his Reservoir, he carefully reached out with a thin filament of power that he connected with Harry at his side. He watched his friend shiver before Harry used his fledgling control of his Magic to twine threads of his own power with Callian's.
It was a fumbling attempt but he gave Harry a small nod of appreciation, his friend repeatedly surprised him with his aptitude for spellweaving. Guiding their combined thread he reached out towards Adria next, the girl's eyes darted towards him as she felt the Magic connect with her.
To Callian's mind, he saw Adria clearer than he ever had with his mundane senses, the bright glow of her Magic pulsed throughout her body giver her a ghostly image to his arcane sight. Slowly he pushed his Magic into her eliciting a quiet gasp from the girl as he deftly pulled threads of power from her and twined it with his and Harry's own before he drew that pulsing cord ever onwards, Hermione was a beacon of pale light as she waited excitedly for the upcoming events.
Her mind was too preoccupied for her to notice the swelling power reaching out to her but she definitely felt it when he pulled her into their joining.
Callian took a moment to gather himself as his head swam with the feel of their combined power, he could sense the others clearly through their shared Magic and knew they could feel him in kind even with their own limited control of their power.
About him, he could feel the gathering torrents of magic and fought to ignore the sirens call that threatened his concentration.
Gathering himself he reached out pulling Penny along as he all drew them all towards his mother's familiar calming presence, Amerytha for her part merely smiled as she accepted the combined cord of five young Magi before she gathered the parents of his friends into the joining of Magics.
Callian watched as if from a great distance as all the Muggles had silent tears trailing down their faces as they felt the wondrous power that had been just beyond her reach for the first time.
The swelling Magic continued to churn about them and for the first time in what seemed like an age, Callian let the full might of his Magic free of his control, waves of arcane power rippled from him as he sent a mental command throughout the Circle urging his friends to do the same. One by one they did, hesitantly at first but soon enough they joined him in letting themselves cut loose.
Penny despite her years was the least of them as her power flared about her like a small bonfire in the night, Hermione and Adria were like the rising sun in comparison to her small flame. The light of their powerful Magic was beautiful to watch as they all but glowed as their power flared about them visible to his mind's eye, Harry however was a near match for his own as his friends light was like a star beside him.
But for all their seemingly potent Magic they were nothing compared to those about them as the adult Magi, Mer, Centaurs Dwarves spread out across the meadow bloomed like great nebulae in the void. Looking towards his mother he watched as she slowly released her normally rigid control of her gift, The glow of her Magic continued to grow until before him stood being of pure light and power that rivalled some of the brightest about them.
He watched in awe as his mother skillfully guided their combined might into the literal floods of power feeding into the heart of the ritual.
He had been almost overwhelmed by just their small circle of joined Magics, to feel the might of so much potent Magic was euphoric. He felt like he could level mountains or become a God with only the barest fraction of that accumulated might and he was on the outskirts, what his Grandfather must be feeling as the nexus of it all was unimaginable.
Slowly the flow of power began to level out and they could only watch as if by some unheard command the Apprentices about his grandfather began the beginnings of a powerful Weave.
Thick, pulsing threads of arcane power began to coalesce before them, the magic so strong that they were visible even in the mundane world as they began to form such a complex enchantment Callian could barely understand only the smallest fraction of it. The longer he stared the more a sense of familiarity began to grow within him as he watched the weave twist upon itself, knotting itself into a seemingly solid mass of multi-hued light.
Tighter and tighter the Magic was folded upon itself until there before them hung a weave as large as a chickens egg, Callian watched as his grandfather plucked the weave from the air and brought it towards a familiar pulsing crystal that had been covered by a heavy cloth. The ominous red hue that had been there only days previously was still present and if anything looked to have darkened into a bloody red colour, Denevan gently melded the weave into the stone and the collective participants of the ritual waited with baited breath for the Magic to be accepted by the crystal.
Mere heartbeats passed before a sudden pulse of Magic was felt by all present as the Crystal glowed brightly as the Weave and enchanted stone became one.
Callian watched as his grandfather gingerly picked up the floating stone as he waved his hand towards another larger object covered by thick canvas, the coverings simply ceased to be as his grandfather vanished them to reveal the prone form of an armoured suit of titanic size laying upon a stone plinth.
As Denevan approached the suit, two Dwarven rune-smiths rushed forward to remove a section of the chest plate. From where he stood Callian could not quite see what lay within the massive suit of arms but he thought he could glimpse the glint of white bone within.
Carefully Denevan placed the large crystal within and stepped back as the Rune-smiths returned the armour covering, working in concert the Dwarves began to etch delicate runes into the seams of the armour which glowed a fiery orange in the evening gloom before they faded to reveal only the glint of worked the metal.
Once the Dwarven artisans had finished they retreated as Denevan raised his arms as he began gathering more threads of power to him as he wove several complex spells into existence about the armoured form, all about them they could feel growing pressure as a strong wind began to pluck at their clothes.
The pressure soon reached a peak as it crashed over them like a wave as a bolt of lightning roared down from the heavens, striking the armoured form with such intensity that Callian would be amazed if there was anything left of the armoured giant other than a slag filled crater.
The world turned white as the lightning continued to hammer into the ground with earth-shattering force, even closing his eyes was little solace against the brightness and he found himself blinking away spots when the light show finally ended.
Once his vision had cleared enough to actually witness the aftermath of his grandfathers spell he found himself lost for words, the ground was scorched and glassy for a dozen feet around the plinth from the intensity of the lightning strike.
However, where he had been expecting a slag strewn mess as the only reminder of the armoured form, he found himself staring at thousands of small runes that glowed the fiery orange of forge-light.
A low keening cry echoed about the meadow as Denevan moved towards the armoured giant, Callian could only watch in morbid fascination as his grandfather pulled a knife from the folds of his robes and with a quick slash across his palm let the blood fall across the rune-covered chest plate.
Almost immediately the keening cry cut off before the armoured form slowly rose into a sitting position. Slowly and silently the armoured form rose to its feet, no sound was heard as every eye was riveted upon the behemoth that towered over them. Standing close to eight feet tall the figures visored helm turned to stare at Denevan with a stillness that was unsettling to watch, at a command from his Grandfather the giant moved off to stand beyond the confines of the ritual.
Callian could only share a dumbfounded look with his friends as they tried to follow the constructs path, never had they witness such a thing. The Magic that had been used to create the construct was immense and if Callians suspicions were correct, the giant armoured figure making its way across the meadow was created with a similar sentience that had been infused into the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts.
They did not have long to dwell upon it as Denevan began to lead them into another weaving. The swirling nexus of power floating about them was barely diminished despite the immense amount of Magic that gone into the giant's creation, one by one they began to follow after this master of the Arcane Arts.
Each of them shaping the Magic as if they had been doing it all of their lives, with a start each of them in turn realised they had been doing just that. From the moment of their births, they had been instinctively drawing upon their Magic, calling it to them and using it in every aspect of their lives. Through their shared connection Callian could feel the sense of foolishness they felt for not having recognised that fact.
Callian could not help but feel a sense of pity for those that clung to theirs wands, simple though they may seem foci were incredibly complex creations that the Romans had discovered from the ancient Greeks and had used to great effect in expanding their empire. But in order for the Romans to field greater numbers of Magi during their expansion, they had lost much of what made Spellweaving so versatile, the fundamental ability to delve into ones own Magic and shape it to their desires.
It also had the unintended side-effect of limiting magicals into believing in a wand being needed to wield their Magic instead of working hard to connect with their own power, he knew many of his peers at school viewed him as an aberration for his gifts but he revelled in the fact that he was not limited as they were.
Harry had admitted as much to him of similar beliefs after just a few of their lessons, across their shared bond he could sense the beginnings of similar thoughts from the girls. He smirked as he thought that he may have a few more willing to learn from him once they returned to the school, for now though he helped to guide them as best he could as they all basked in the glorious flow of Magic all bout them.
They continued the ritual for what seemed hours, shaping thick bands of power into enchantments that were then infused into weapons and armour or delicate gossamer-thin filament that were carefully applied to jewellery or clothing.
Soon people began to drop out of the ritual, fatigue claiming them as their bodies shivered from the taxing effects of wielding such power. The muggle parents of his friends were the first to pull away quickly followed by several of the Mer and Dwarven members that had participated, but slowly more and more pulled away from the Gathering until only the strongest Magi, be they man, mer or horse-man.
Callian felt Adria and Hermione reluctantly pull away several long minutes after an exhausted Penny until only Harry, his mother and himself were left of their circle, he began to feel the beginnings of a headache forming as he continued to add his Magic to the collective but eventually both he and Harry pulled away before they exhausted themselves completely.
Much to his surprise, Callian found there were few left within the confines of the ritual, mostly his Grandfather and his Apprentices along with his mother and the majority of the Centaur Elders.
To his magical senses they blazed like miniature suns as they continued to feed power into the Gathering, he marvelled every year at the strength displayed by his family and their cohorts and knew he was a far cry from being close to what these titans were when it came to wielding Magic.
However, even their prodigious talents could not continue forever.
Slowly more and more of them fell back until only a handful remained, his Grandfather leading them as he folded and compressed the remaining Magics of the ritual tighter and tigher.
A golden glowing orb of pure Magic had begun to form before Denevan as his Grandfather directed the last trickles of Magic into a single point.
Callian felt his mouth go dry as he looked on in shock. "That's a point fold construct..." he breathed, his friends turned to look at him in confusion so he quickly explained.
"My Grandfather has taken the remaining power of the Gathering and weaved it upon itself forcing it to compress tighter and tighter." He took a deep breath as he stared out across the meadow. "The Magic becomes ever more dangerous the tighter the compressions force the layers of the weave against each other, with how tightly the Magic has been wound I wouldn't be surprised if there was enough power in that construct to level half of London."
He had everyone staring at him now as he explained just what was happening on the field, however, Callian watched as Denevan sealed the construct with the last wisps of power from the ritual and gently infused the point fold construct within a large gemstone that was marked with several glowing runes. Callian looked on as Denevan, stumbling shakily made his way towards the equally exhausted Magthen.
With trembling hands Denevan gently handed the Centaur the glowing gem, Magthen for his part just stared at it in awe. Callian suspected the wizened ancient was well aware of just how potentially devastating the Gemstone he was holding actually was, the Centaur bowed low to Denevan before he held aloft the artefact and let out a braying call that had the rest of his people cheering loudly in return.
With the ritual complete, many found themselves too exhausted to continue with the solstice festivities and just sought a place to lay their heads for the night. His mother had already made preparations and had arranged for various temporary habitats built for their many guests.
Small pools of warm water steamed in the cold wintry night as they were lit from within with faintly glowing blue and green stones, the Mer were gurgling away in enjoyment as they coiled up within the depths of the water away from the sharp biting chill that had quickly descended over them.
The Centaurs had been given large yurts made of thick cloth that held back the winds, Callian managed to peek into one of them as they passed and watched as a couple reclined on a large pile of plush cushions, their legs folded beneath them as they relaxed after the tiring events of the Gathering.
He was hurried along with a swat around his head from a chuckling Belor as the Dwarf led him and his friends back to the Castle, his mother had bid him goodnight and he knew that she would be a while before retiring as she was busy managing their guests.
Little was said as they wearily made their way back along the bridge, all of them still revelling in the after-effects of channelling such power as they had during the Gathering.
Even the Granger and Clearwater parents stumbled slightly as they walked and it didn't take long for them all to find their beds and collapse into them in various states of undress.
Callian stood alone atop the highest tower of home as he watched his faithful familiar dive and swoop after several startled robins, the bird had been nesting within the trees of his family's private courtyard far below and had found themselves the unfortunate focus of Faenir's attention.
The winter winds tugged at his clothes, seeking a way beneath the fur-lined leather jerkin, but he found himself enjoying the chill. He had always preferred the winters cold to the heat of summer, Tyrna claimed it was because he had been born in the last month of the year and that he had felt the touch of the Queen of winter but he had paid her talk of Gods' little heed.
The sun had yet to rise but he had been awake for several hours already, he had found himself walking the familiar halls without a care as he basked in the afterglow of the Ritual. His friends had yet to awaken and he was in no rush to break his quiet reverie, for several long months he had barely been aloud a quiet minute to himself. While he would never turn his back on his friends, this was one of the few times he could just relax away from everyone and allow himself to regain a sense of balance.
Before Hogwarts he had only really interacted with those older than himself, dealing with the intricacies of Magic that would leave most of his fellow first years stumped if not scared out of their minds. His grandfather had encouraged this by urging him to learn all that he could and he had gladly thrown himself into his studies, but now as he conjured a small flame that danced about his fingers he found himself wondering at just how much this set him apart from others.
When Harry had all but begged him to teach him the Art of SpellWeaving he had found a kindred soul in the Potter heir, their friendship had bloomed quickly and was one of the highlights of his time at Hogwarts. He dearly hoped that Adria and Hermione would also take him up on the offer to learn from him because he found the thought of them stagnating like the rest of the magical world abhorrent.
With a thought he conjured several more small flames about his hand, the weave so familiar to him they took only seconds to produce.
He craved to be able to do this with all the weaves he was capable of, becoming so familiar with the flow of Magics that they took but a thought to accomplish. He vividly remembered his grandfather controlling the monumental flow of power the previous evening with an ease that was staggering, that much power would have burned out a lesser wizard and he doubted few in living memory could have done such a thing.
The longer his thoughts dwelt upon the Gathering the more he pictured himself leading the ritual, wielding power that would make even the gods themselves quiver in fear.
As if in answer to his thoughts the amulet of Delvaryn about his neck seemed to grow warmer against his skin, gingerly he reached up to touch the amulet aware of just how scolding hot the amulet had grown all those weeks ago in the headmaster's office.
As he held it within his hand he felt...something.
He could not quite place the uneasy feeling that settled over him, but it felt as if every he was being watched by something immense and powerful and far beyond the scope of mortal understanding. Looking about the tower top he was surprised to see that there was no one or nothing about him, he felt it then as his hand still clung to the symbol as it hung upon its chain. Looking down with a strange sense of trepidation Callian found his eyes looking into the open eye within the mountain and that is when he felt it.
The sense of that probing gaze was coming from the amulet.
He detected a faint sense of some emotion from it before suddenly it became scalding to the touch and he let it go with a yelp of pain as the sense of being watched retreated.
He did not move as he stared down at the symbol.
He and never spoken of what had transpired in the Headmasters office, but now as he continued to stare at the symbol of a Dwarven God he felt a need to understand just what was occurring.
The sharp cry and flap of leathery wings broke him from his thought as Faenir landed upon the smooth stone of the parapet.
Pain?
The question floated through his mind as the dragon cast its amber-eyed gaze over him, searching for harm or signs of injury.
Callian could only shake his head towards his familiar as he gently scratched under Faenir's chin, earning a rumble of pleasure for his efforts. "Nothings wrong my friend, just surprised by something is all." He offered as an explanation to the inquiring thoughts probing at his mind, "Although I think we need to speak to my Dagün or one of his priests at the very least."
His friends were still asleep and would be for several more hours when he made his decision, offering his familiar a smile as he placed a kiss upon the creatures head he sent a thought along their bond.
Want to fly?
Faenir gave a cry of joy that brought a wider smile to Callian's face before he took wing, taking several long steps back he stared at the lip of the parapet as he prepared his spells as he watched his friend circle high overhead. The last time he had done this his mother had scolded him so badly he had thought she had turned into a dragon herself, his Dagün had tanned his hide such that he had trouble sitting and his grandfather had restricted him from the Library as punishment. However, there was a part of him that had craved the feel of the wind rushing past him once more.
Standing there a smile growing across his face as Faenir rushed past him and he felt his familiars joy at taking to the air with him, without another thought Callian ran forward as he launched himself into the air pushing off the lip of the parapet he sailed out into open air.
He grinned like a mad man as he sailed out into the open air. He did not wait long in casting his first spell, the effects were immediate as his body lightened to such an extent that he felt the winds buffeting him back into the air.
Letting out a yell full of excitement, he let his next spell fly causing a thin wedge of Magic to form before him splitting the air in his path.
He shot like an arrow through the air as he angled himself to point head first towards the great bridge of Castle Blackwood, a streak of scarlet shot passed him before Faenir opened his wings to slow himself until they were side by side.
He revelled in their shared joy as they cut through the air, in short order, they were flying high over the surrounding walls of the Castle and out across the bridge far below.
He could see a few souls meandering about this early in the day and laughed loudly at the few exclamations he heard when they caught sight of him, soon he was sailing out across the forest and nearing the meadow when he felt the Magic of his spells beginning to fade. With a grin of excitement, he brought his knees up just as his spell faded and he plummeted towards the cold, hard ground.
He could hear screams of alarm as he dropped from the sky, he paid them little heed as he cast his last weave and his deadly descent became nothing more than a gentle glide down to the ground. He did not even stumble as he touched down, just walking away with a nod of his head to those gob-smacked faces he could see as he offered them a cheeky wink before he began to head down the road towards the Dwarven hold of Kar Zurent, his familiar landing gracefully upon his shoulder as he walked away.
The road held only a few travellers as he made his way towards his Dagün's home, he could have taken one of the portal circles that his Grandfather had linked to the home of the Stormanvil Dwarves but found himself enjoying the winter morning.
It was roughly a two-hour walk to the doors of Kar Zurent from where he stood and he spent that time just chatting idly with Faenir as he practised a few minor weaves, the sun had just begun to rise by the time he found himself nearing the low hills and the towering fortifications that marked the boundary of the Dwarven hold.
Towering walls of gigantic stone blocks, easily as tall as a man and placed with such skill and precisions that they needed no mortar to bind them together rose before him.
Fifteen foot thick and twenty-foot high and topped with tall, broad crenelations that easily shielded its Dwarven defenders from head to toe, the outer walls were truly impressive.
He had to stare in awe at the many murals and relief carvings that had been cut into the stones by the skilled masons of his fathers hold, every time he passed this way he found some new detail that he had not seen before. He had always marvelled at the Dwarven tendency to put such effort into every working they undertook, he remembered fondly watching his Dagün spending days agonising over an anvil as he worked to remove flaws that only he could see within his work.
A large rectangular opening in the shadow of the squat gatehouse above was the only way through the wall, he waved his hand towards the guards he could see at their posts and received a few cries of welcome once they recognised him.
Stepping into the gloom of the gatehouse he let his fingers trail over the stones, lightly tracing the images carved there that revealed important moments from Dwarven history. From their creation at the hands of the Forge Father, Kaladin and their endless walks through the bowels of the Earth. To their conflicts with man, goblin and beast and the heroic Kings and warriors that arisen to lead their people to victory. He traced the outline of the great peak of Karad Dumal and the founding of the heart of the Tyrzahn Empire. Soon he had passed through the Gateway and he had to squint against the morning light once he stepped beyond and took in the great monolith that stood several feet away.
Here was the great door stone. Engraved with countless protective runes, the huge slab of granite was as thick as the wall and designed to slide seamlessly into the open gateway behind him.
Once in place, it would take a team of giants to move it and even then it would be slow progress, he made his way around the stone monolith idly tracing the runes engraved there with his fingers once more.
He had made it a point to learn the runes the Dwarves used in their rune-smithing and had been amazed to learn that they were the basis of what modern magical enchanting was founded upon, however, the dwarven skill in the art far surpassed the limited enchantments of today's Magi.
His path carried him onwards and he passed two more such walls, each taller than the last as the foothills about Kar Zurent grew ever steeper.
Finally, he reached the outer slopes of the Dwarven holdfast.
Nestled at the base of a large range of hills named the Horncrags for the prominent spur of granite that jutted into the air from atop the greatest hill, standing tall and proud above the surrounding landscape.
Before him lay the entryway into the Dwarf city of Kar Zurent, squat and bulky it sat proudly as if in defiance of the foreboding forests that pressed in from all sides. Callian had always mused that Belor had designed the entryway to invoke the feeling of a Dwarf Lord looking out from its stone throne, his father would never agree or disagree with him but his smile had told him that he had been on the right track. The sun reflecting off of the silver waters that poured from the centre of the great fortifications pulled him back to the present. As he made his way up the sloping road that would take him to the Passageway of Kings, he marvelled as each slab beneath his boots was carved with the beautiful geometric patterns that were so indicative of his father's people. As he passed before one of the great fortresses that sat upon either side of the Silver Falls, named for the polished steel plates that had been set behind the waterfall to make it glow in the sunlight, he again found himself studying the murals that had been carved into the stone. However, he found his eyes travelling up to gaze at the three gigantic forms that had been sculpted into the likeness of the three fathers of the Dwarven Pantheon. To the left stood Harn, the Axe Bearer. Lord of War and conflict and the deity every Dwarf prayed to before raising their blades to an enemy.
In the centre stood Kaladin, the Forge Father and under whose hammer the Dwarven people had been forged. Here was the leader of the gods and in honour of him Belor had insisted a hammer of Mithral be forged and placed in the statue's grip, but Callian found his eyes falling on the next figure.
Delvaryn, The Dwarven God of knowledge and Seeker of Secrets and the reason for Callian's visit. About his neck the amulet bearing the Gods symbol seemed to hang heavy as he stared up into the cowled face of the figure, the masons of Kar Zurent had fashioned the God's face to be hidden in shadow and their work was exceptional as always. All he could make out of the Gods features were the thick beard that hung down to the giants statues knees, yet to his mind, it felt as if he could feel the statues cold stone eyes following him as he began to walk down the Passageway of Kings.
He pushed the thought from his mind as he looked up into the stony face of his beloved Dagün, Standing tall and proud as he glared down at all who walked beneath his shadow. Behind the statue of Belor, he could make out the smaller man-sized figure he knew to be Tyrna and beside her stood two more figures that had been carved in the likeness of their true-born sons. Callian smiled at the familiar features off Tyrn and Delmor, each had set out to forge their own legends and last he had heard Tyrn had travelled to the Arabian deserts in search of their distant kinsmen who dwelt beneath the sands while Delmor had set out on a pilgrimage into the deep dark beneath the world.
Moving on he found his gaze travelling from statue to statue on either side of the passage as he walked in the shadows of all the kings of Clan Stormanvil that had come before, it was an unbroken line that went back millennia to the times of the Tyrzahn Empire and beyond. While Kar Zurent was a relatively new holding by Dwarven standards, being only a few centuries old, it was still afforded a great deal of respect by all the Dwarves of the British Isles.
Making his way through the open stone doors he followed the familiar cavernous hallways and corridors towards the personal chambers of his foster family, the guards that lined the corridors and stood at attention at every junction saluted crisply as he passed and with a nod towards the door guards he was made his way into the Lord's apartments.
He found himself in a darkened room and he had to conjure a small orb of light to prevent himself tripping over the gloom, his light revealed Belor sitting in a chair holding his head in his hands as he winced at the bright light that now filled the room.
Callian could only smile at his clearly worse for wear Dagün, altering his weave he dimmed the light until it was just enough for him to see by before he plopped himself into a chair beside the Dwarf as he made a point of putting dragging several platters of food towards him causing Belor to wince as he buried his face in his arms at the grating noise.
He heard a muffled grumble coming from the Dwarf but he could not quite make out what he was saying as Callian kindly moved the platter full of warm, crispy and more importantly greasy bacon towards Belor with a grin.
The Dwarf groaned as the smell of the food hit his nose and blindly pushed it away causing Callian to laugh as the platter nearly fell from the table, slowly Belor raised his head to glare with one baleful eye. "I raised yeh better than to pick on a Dwarf when he's had a bit too much ale" Belor winced as he spoke but Callian just grinned at him as he filled two cups with water from a pitcher in the centre of the table before passing one to his father.
"Aye, you did. But you also had me learning from Ironmane and I've seen that Dwarf spend half a day having the recruits train in the Great Forge when they were too far gone into their cups."
Belor winced with a groan as he remembered the mess that had been left behind after his old friend had finished with his warriors, the stench of vomit had lingered for weeks after and even Denevans magic failed to get rid of it for long.
Heavy footfalls could be heard heading towards them before the apartment doors slammed open spilling light into the room, Belor groaned loudly before diving back into the sheltering darkness of his arms. Tyrna stood outlined in the doorway a stormy look upon her face as she stared at her husband, although she brightened considerably when she noted Callian and greeted him loudly as she stomped her way across the chamber.
Callian could only laugh as he heard the chuckles from the guards outside as Tyrna slammed her hands down upon the table eliciting a pathetic mewl from his Belor.
"It's what yeh deserve for being such a fool. I don't know how much yeh and Khurlmor drank in the end, but I left yeh to it after yeh started mixing yer strongest spirits with that fermented gut-rot the Mer make. I warned yeh but yeh wouldn't listen to reason."
Belor just groaned more as he wrapped his arms tighter about his head and Callian turned a concerned eye towards the dwarf he regarded as a second mother.
"Isn't there a potion you could make to help Da.?" He asked after a few long heartbeats.
Tyrna just offered him self satisfied grin as she sat and began to load her plate, waving a handful of the greasy bacon towards a decidedly green looking Belor while her grin took on a wicked edge. "Oh aye I could, but then this fool would never learn his lesson. Anyway," Callian could only smile at her sudden shift in disposition. "I must say it's nice to have yeh over for breakfast, we haven't done it in so long."
Callian just laughed at Tyrna's polite response after her comments about his Dagün and he decided that she was as good a source of knowledge as he could possibly find.
"About that, I didn't come here just for the fine food."
Tyrna gave him an appraising look as she slowly fed a piece of cheese covered mushroom into her mouth. "I take it this has something to do with yer friends then?"
Callian just shot her a quizzical look before he shook her head. "No, nothing to do with them...Although, you now have me thinking it should."
Tyrna looked mildly surprised before she explained about talking to his mother about the potential vassalage with his friends. "I just think it's a little early to be offering yer friends such a valued position, the repercussions among yer own kind will be bad enough and that's not even considering the alliances Denevan is forging. Now yer grandaddy has never paid them fools in the Ministry much heed and correctly so if I do say so, but things are happening that even the wisest of us could not foresee and I want yeh to think long and hard about the trouble yeh could bring to their door if they take the Oaths. I just thought I would give yeh my thoughts on it is all and hope that they know what they could be stepping into."
Callian stared at her for a few long heartbeats of silence before he bowed his head in acknowledgement of her words. "Believe me they are beginning to see the prejudices that are rife within our world, I have already gone over the good and bad of taking the Oath with Adria and mother tells me she has done the same with the Grangers..."
He trailed off as he stared at some point far in the distance that only he could see.
Eventually, he focused back upon her and Tyrna could not help but see a glimpse of the man he would one day become at that moment, he seemed suddenly so much older than the young form before her as he spoke.
"I do not want them to be held back because of some foolish notion of blood status. They are both already so much more than the majority of the first years, it's frankly ridiculous that any would question the offer." He snorted derisively as his thoughts turned to their society. "I know there will be some that will look to curb what they see as the lower classes climbing the ranks but I simply don't care, I will take care of me and mine first and foremost. The rest can go hang for all I care."
Tyrna leaned back in her chair as she watched the young boy before her with a critical eye, she had seen hints of the boy's protectiveness in the past but to see it now made her old heart warm with pride.
Giving a bow of her head in silent acquiescence she continued to slowly break her fast, silence remained between them for several long seconds before a grating snore sounded from Belor as they both looked to see the dwarf snoring away while he drooled onto his plate.
Callian chuckled as his Dagün unknowingly broke the tension that had lingered about the room, turning back to face Tyrna he offered her a small apologetic smile. "I actually did come here for advice, just not about that."
Tyrna merely raised one thick eyebrow in return, as she patiently waited for him to explain. Callian silently pulled the amulet that Denevan had crafted for him from under his shirt, holding it up by its chain he stared at it with an unreadable expression before he turned to look back at Tyrna.
"This is what I came to talk to someone about..."
Tyrna leaned forward as he reached across the table to study the symbol of Delvaryn as it seemed to glow in the dim illuminations of his Magelight. Tyrna frowned as she ran a finger over the open eye. "This is Belor's work, yer Da has always had a skill with the delicate pieces. I take it this is what he made for yeh before yeh left for school?"
Callian nodded as he looked to the Dwarf asleep beside them.
He seemed to struggle to find the right words before he let out a sigh of frustration and began to detail the strange occurrences that had been happening with the amulet.
"It was like someone was there watching me, I could feel them as if they were standing just behind me but...no one was there, Tyrna. I looked for them with my Magic as well as my eyes, but then I felt it and it scared me. Something that powerful outstrips anything I have ever felt before, even grandfather seemed insignificant before whatever it was I sensed and I'm certain the feeling came from that." He finished by pointing the symbol he had now placed between them.
Tyrna eyed him with a critical eye as he sat there staring at the symbol of one of her Gods as if it may bite him.
"As your Da tells it, Delvaryn spoke to him long ago, telling him to find yer granddaddy. From that have come some of the greatest bonds of friendship I have seen, maybe he seeks to speak to yeh to. To help guide yeh for some reason we can't see yet. Why one of my Gods is trying to help a human I can't answer, but know this; among my kind, many would gladly give up every piece of gold and precious gem they have to even glimpse a message from one of the Three Fathers."
Words failed him as Tyrna handed him back the amulet, he could not understand why one of the Dwarven Gods would be interested in him but he got the sense he should allow things to run their course for now. However, if he began to feel too uncomfortable with it all he would seek his Grandfathers counsel, he had to hope that his grandfather would be able to help.
Thanking Tyrna he levitated his Dagün back to his bedchamber despite the Dwarf women telling him to leave him where he lay and travelled back home via the Portal circle located within the hold.
By now the sun had well and truly risen and he joined his friends for breakfast, despite the good cheer and hearty food his mind was focused on other things as he idly toyed with the symbol of Delvaryn through the material of his tunic. He knew his friends were curious as to his strange mood but with a shake of his head, he tried to enjoy the time he had left with his friends before they left to attend their own holiday festivities.
