Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) Read Online Free PDF

together to secure the destruction of the corsairs’ lair. Ever since, it seemed that the Tormalin magewoman’s intuitive grasp of quintessential magic’s complexities had deserted her.
    Quintessential magic could only be wielded by four mages working together to double and redouble their united strength in a nexus of sorcery uniting their affinities with air, earth, fire and water. Its secrets were among Hadrumal’s most closely guarded lore.
    Ever since that catastrophic night, Jilseth found herself wondering what other secrets were hidden in books and scrolls held in the wizard isle’s tallest towers? Had the Masters and Mistress of the elements known that Planir could unite four separate quartets of wizards into one still greater nexus? Did they understand how he had been able to control that immense magic, an order of magnitude stronger than the quintessential magecraft which Jilseth had always been told was the summit of Hadrumal’s wizardry?
    It had been the only way to defeat the murderous magic wielded against them by the renegade Mandarkin mage who had sought to claim the corsairs’ island and to enslave hitherto-unsuspected Aldabreshi mageborn for his own vicious purposes. So the Archmage had explained, offering his regrets but no apology to those who had suffered as badly as Merenel.
    ‘I don’t believe that the problem is with our nexus.’ Mellitha studied the silver-gilt arm-ring.
    ‘What nexus?’ Velindre retorted. ‘We cannot—’
    Mellitha looked across the table. ‘We know that a precise combination of all four elements must have ensorcelled the thing. I am beginning to suspect that this particular blending has also been crafted to disrupt any subsequent union of wizardry which might seek to nullify the spells within it.’
    Jilseth decided she could leave Merenel’s temper to cool while she learned what she could from these far more experienced wizards. There were few to rival either magewoman, even in Hadrumal. Velindre had been widely expected to rise to the rank of Cloud Mistress not so long ago. All the wine shop sages agreed that Mellitha could become Flood Mistress whenever she chose to challenge Troanna, even after her decades away from the wizard isle.
    Perhaps Merenel felt even more out of place than Jilseth sometimes did, caught between these two who could boast elemental understanding and expertise so vastly outstripping her own.
    Then she realised that Velindre was looking at her intently, a frown of concentration sharpening the woman’s angular features.
    ‘The underlying sorcery is tied to the metal and the crystals, making this inherently an earth-magic artefact. You should focus your affinity on it alone while we three ward you and the piece alike from other elemental influences.’ Velindre glanced towards the closed door, her lips thinning with irritation. ‘If we can persuade Merenel to rejoin us.’
    ‘I’ll try,’ Jilseth temporised.
    ‘Let Merenel rest for the moment.’ Mellitha rose, gracious despite her comfortable curves and the years threading silver through her chestnut hair. Her costly green silk gown rustled as she picked up the silver-gilt arm-ring and carried it away to a side table. She returned with a shallow silver bowl and a finger-long purple glass vial.
    Resuming her seat, she rested her fingertips on the bowl’s rim. Beads of water swelled in the base, wrung from the empty air to swiftly fill the bowl. Mellitha let a single drop of blended oils fall from the little vial. Emerald magelight suffused the water and then the spell called up a vision of some featureless sea.
    ‘We’re already losing the daylight.’ Velindre shook out the loose sleeves of her azure tunic, cut in the flowing Aldabreshin style so common in this port city, and cupped the bowl with her long-fingered hands. The sun’s afterglow gilded white-tipped wavelets two hundred leagues and more away. The Archipelago’s more swiftly falling night would soon shroud those southerly