Dreams of Darkness Rising by Ross M. Kitson

in their cases on the right. A drinks cabinet made from the bones of a mountain giant was situated adjacent to the desk. Inkas-Tarr poured himself a goblet of white wine. Scowling at its slight warmth he muttered a few arcane words and crystals of ice formed on the exterior of the goblet, bringing the required chill to the Feldorian vintage.
    A cloud of blue smoke drifted through his open window, borne by the ever-present gale that buffeted his tower. He finished his wine and returned the goblet to the bone cabinet as the vapour coalesced into a human figure.
    “Ekra-Hurr, your arrival is most timely. Can I offer you a beverage?” Inkas asked.
    The wizard before him was younger by thirty years and well built, his toned muscles amply filling his grey robes. His bald head was dotted with sweat from his long journey to the Enclave and he delicately took a silk handkerchief from his brown sash and wiped his forehead. 
    “Perhaps a touch of wine then, master. Your taste is usually most discerning,” Ekra-Hurr said.
    He politely took a goblet of wine from the Arch-mage and drank it thirstily. Inkas-Tarr waved his bony hand and a heavy mahogany chair drifted through the air and landed next to the young wizard.
    A short silence ensued as Ekra-Hurr visually explored the chamber’s treasures. The Arch-mage observed him keenly. Ekra was one of his most able young ferenge, a protégé who had ascended the ranks swiftly since his Bonding. His gem of power had been a particularly beautiful diamond that had returned to the Enclave on the death of Movor-Hirr, Inkas’s own mentor. The Archmage was convinced he could be trusted with the task at hand.
    “Master, may I enquire as to the reason for my somewhat secretive recall? I had been making some headway with the Netreptans against the Blood-gullet tribe in the mountains. I presume master Bardit-Urr had conveyed my reports to you?”
    The Arch-mage nodded, his pale eyes boring into the younger mage’s own. He had recalled Ekra from his assignment tackling a savage tribe of mountain giants that had been attacking the Netreptan settlements on the eastern edge of the Cloudtip Mountains. It had been a calculated risk to bring him back but his other brown sashes were either embroiled in the Choosing or on more vital missions in Eeria and beyond. The gamble was whether the Netreptans would raise the sudden withdrawal with one of his silver sashes. Two he could trust, one was of uncertain integrity and the last, Bardit-Urr, was a viper in the Enclave.
    “Indeed he did, in a succinct manner. You should be congratulated on your victories there. I am sure our Netreptan neighbours will be delighted with the aid of the magic that was once solely their domain,” Inkas-Tarr said.
    The statement lingered in the air.
    “Yet still I am returned to the Enclave…”
    Inkas-Tarr stroked his beard. Blessed Torik, let me take this chance on the boy, he thought.
    “Your recall here is to remain a secret, Ekra. I wish you to undertake a task for me. It would be a great favour.”
    Ekra-Hurr leaned forward in his seat his eyes alive with curiosity.
    “I have been investigating an item of great interest to myself and the Order over the last few months and have been obliged, with the Ni-Faris being in our Order this autumn, to suspend my research. The item has returned to its owner, Lord Ebon-Farr, at the Keep and although he reassures me of its security I would feel… more satisfied were we to also provide some protection.”
    “Lord Ebon-Farr has consented to this?” Ekra asked in.
    “Not exactly...my old friend is set in his ways and rightly proud of the impregnable nature of his ancient halls. Talis would not accept help even if it were his own idea. This protection shall have to remain covert.”
    Ekra shifted with discomfort in his chair.
    “Master, the scandal if this should emerge. Your place on the council…”
    “Is hardly your concern Ekra,” the Arch-mage said. The boy was