“The magics they performed that day consumed them, and broke the very world. The crack that swallowed all of them remains impassably wide to this day, forever shutting us off from the High Lands and her people. Elves, Dwarves, Northmen, Halflings – once friends and allies, reduced in that single moment of destruction to mere characters in the songs of bards. They are lost to us on the far side of the Impasse. But in spite of the cost, after a thousand years, Phelwen Semaj was finally defeated.”
“Survivors rebuilt their cities and lands, trying to erase all traces of his reign and protect themselves from the remnants of his armies. And as survivors often do, some of them took their efforts too far. Over time, many forgot how magic had saved them all, and became determined to ensure that no one could ever repeat Semaj’s reign.”
“Most of the men now in power view magic as a threat. Not everyone, of course, but none more so than Jayden Korith. What his father began in the West, Duke Korith campaigns to bring to all— death to magic users, wherever we may be. He’s found support here in the Midlands, and though our own Duke hasn’t officially condemned magic, the people take matters into their own hands more frequently than not.”
“And this is the world you find yourself in, Dweller. The Lich King rules by fear even after his defeat, and the smallest of magical talents is the greatest of threats to the powers that be.”
Melody’s head was spinning.
Rhodoban drained the last of his water, and took her empty mug with him when he stood to fill his own.
I don’t know what to say.
“You need say nothing. I gave you the history for the same reason I give it to anyone – so it will not be forgotten, so that we may work in our lifetimes to restore magical balance.”
The door beside the fireplace closed softly – Melody hadn’t heard it open.
“Husband, do let your guest rest before you continue. She is positively weary.” The speaker was a slender young woman with pale gray eyes and a magical aura unlike anything Melody had ever seen. Only when she tucked her shimmering hair back to lift one of the babies clinging to her skirt did the point of her ear become visible.
“Aellielle! My Elven goddess, my beloved wife … Did we disturb you?” Rhodoban embraced the woman and scooped the other baby into his arm. The children were obviously twins, each with their mother’s exuberant magical aura and reckless curly halos of blonde hair over their delicately pointed ears. Aellielle stood on tiptoe for a kiss.
“You never disturb me, husband. We were simply hungry.” She handed the other child to Rhodoban and turned to Melody. “Welcome to our home,” she said. “I am Aellielle, and the babies are Kedra and Kendon. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Melody stood and curtsied, nearly losing her footing when a wave of dizziness struck.
“This is Melody, Ael.” Rhodoban spoke around a mouthful of his son’s fist, spinning the babies around until they squealed with laughter. “The one I told you about last night, the Dweller.”
Aellielle nodded, frowning, and motioned for Melody to sit. “I can do little for the appearance,” she said, “but I might be able to ease your pain. Shall I try?”
I would be grateful, Melody sent. It does hurt.
If Aellielle was shocked at Melody’s words in her thoughts, she didn’t show it. She simply reached out and stroked her fingers across the neatly stitched cuts and fierce bruises - and the pain vanished, along with the dizziness.
Melody’s eyes widened. Thank you!
“It is a small thing. Come, will you help me prepare lunch? Rhodoban will amuse the babies.” Her husband was already on the floor with his son bouncing happily on his stomach while his daughter busied herself with unlacing his boots.
Of course, Melody agreed. She glanced over at Aellielle. You’re ... an Elf?
“Yes. There are a few of us that remain in the Lower Lands, though practically none choose to reside in the cities.”
Melody accepted the hard loaf of bread and the knife. But Rhodoban said …?
Aellielle fetched some apples from a cupboard. “My ancestors were on this side of the Break and had no way to return. They survived, as most users do, in the wild places where the fearful do not go. There are still too few of us.” Aellielle could not keep the sadness from her voice.
“Ael is one of a kind,” Rhodoban said as he played peek-a-baby with the twins.
“Will you eat with us, Melody?” Aellielle asked.
Melody nodded. She had already sensed Jovan’s concern at her absence, and it was getting worse, but she didn’t want to leave these people, not yet. She hummed softly to herself as she sliced the bread, reaching for Jovan.
I am safe, she sent him, receiving only rapid impressions in return. He was wildly anxious, curious, worried for her— but he was not angry. I’m in no danger, she promised. I will return soon, I’ll explain then. She held their connection until she felt his acceptance, and a brief sense of obligation. There were things he needed to do, he was relieved she was safe.
“Music!” The baby girl, Kedra, had stopped her game with her father and was staring wide-eyed at Melody. Kendon, too, had stopped to watch her. Self-conscious, Melody let the sound fade.
“Indeed,” Rhodoban agreed. “Do you sing?”
Melody carried the plate of bread and cheese to the table. Some, she sent.
“Ael is a wonder on the harp,” he bragged. “Between the two of you we could have quite the gathering tonight.”
Aellielle kicked him lightly on her way to the table with the bowl of fruit. “Don’t be rude. The girl has other things to do beside entertain your friends.”
Melody picked up Kedra, who had wobbled over to cling to her skirt. I don’t mind, she told Aellielle. She smiled at Kedra, who smiled back, and Melody’s mind was made up. I’m not needed right away.
By the end of their simple meal, Melody’s lap was full of yawning babies, and her eyelids were heavy.
“You’re exhausted,” Aellielle noted. “Dreamwalking takes its toll. Would you like to rest with the children?” Kedra was already asleep, one fist clutching Melody’s braid, and Kendon blinked furiously, struggling to avoid his naptime.
“You can use our room,” Rhodoban volunteered, reaching for his son. Kendon clung to Melody’s neck, yawning again. “You’ll need the bed space,” he laughed.
I hate to impose ... Melody was tired, and the comforting warmth of the babies was making her homesick.
“You are welcome to stay. Come.”
Melody stood, balancing her sleepy blonde cargo in each arm, and followed Aellielle through the door beside the fireplace. A sloped corridor opened into a chamber containing a bed that dwarfed the cot at the Inn. Melody was asleep in minutes, a baby resting on either side of her.
25
“You are telling me, then, that you failed. You learned nothing, and you injured the girl? Is my understanding correct?” Garen’s voice was even, and he seemed calm to the two who stood before him. So calm, in fact, that the young woman saw no need to show him respect.
“Weren’t nothin’ to find! Nosy chit deserved more'n he gave her. Now back down and pay us our due!”
The Chancellor ignored her; his gaze fixed on the huge man in front of him. “Is my understanding correct?” he repeated quietly.
The man’s face drained of color as he began to understand what their failure meant. He swallowed, his throat tight, unable to turn away from the Chancellor’s intense stare. Finally, reluctantly, he nodded his head.
Uncoiling, Garen struck the man in the face so forcefully that the whole room echoed with the sound of breaking bones. With a scream, the man dropped to his knees, blood pouring from his nose, mouth, and eyes.
Garen turned his back and flexed his knuckles, smiling at the twins flanking the large desk.
“Remove them,” he said, pausing for a heartbeat before sidestepping the girl's predictable lunge. She slammed into the desk and whirled with a shriek, her teeth bared and a knife in her hand.
“Bastard!” She feinted to the left and came up under his right side, but she never stood a chance. Garen neatly disarmed her and twisted her arm behind her back, pressing his lips alongside her ear. He was still smiling as he whispered to her. She screeched and struggled, but within seconds she stood silent in his arms. Her eyes, once fierce, were vacant. Whatever had been in her mind to begin with, nothing remained.
Garen looked at the twins, releasing her. “Now you may remove them, my friends.”
Tovar touched the girl's shoulder and she went where he guided her, docile as any trained pony. The large man choking on his own blood did not need the encouragement of Tomal's boot to heave his massive bulk up and out the door. Tomal gave it anyway.
Corben stepped around the motley duo on his way into the room, looking from them to the considerable amount of fresh blood on his Lord Ving’s intricately woven rug.
“Oh my … What did you— I’m sorry.” The steward struggled to regain his composure. “Chancellor Garen. Master Jasper has arrived, and there is a young man called Casius insisting he speak with my Lord Ving.”
Garen beamed a wide smile and sat directly on the desk, swinging his feet. “Well then, Corben, let’s not keep Master Jasper waiting. Send someone to fetch Lady Kallisti for me, won’t you? Summon Ving as well, and the two of us will see the young man when I am ready.”
"Yes, Chancellor.” Corben bowed, frowning at the blood, and backed out of the room. He nearly collided with Tomal, who deftly avoided both the steward and the blood, and took position behind Garen. The Hunter had just enough time to deliver his whispered report before Corben ushered in the leather master.
Jasper cleared his throat, nervously glancing at the dark, wet stain on the fine rug. He wished he didn’t think it was blood. “This one’s just the sample, m’Lord,” he said. “I brung it for your approval, before I assemble the fine one your Lordship commissioned. It should be the size you need.” There was something unpredictable and not at all pleasant about this Lord Garen, and the old man wanted nothing more than to be back in his workshop and away from him.
Garen held up the strip of leather with a disturbing smile. “You are truly a conscientious artisan, Master Jasper. This will do nicely for the moment. What of the final product? Time is of the essence.”
Jasper had no idea what a conscientious artisan was, but Garen seemed satisfied, so it must not be bad.
“The pieces are ready to cut, my Lord, if the sample is to your liking. Then I’ve only to stitch them,” he said. “That one there’s a bit on the stiff side, but my apprentice has been softening the leather on the other all night. I can have you the finished one, say, by morning? The lock is a much higher quality on the other one,” he added apologetically. “Flat locks is not all that easy to come by.”
The Chancellor flexed the leather in his hands, feeling the stones under the layers. These were substitutes, of course, not his matched, enchanted crystals. Those were for Melody alone, and Garen thrilled to think of the power they would give him over her.
“The key, Master Jasper.”
“Yes, of course, my Lord.” Jasper handed over the key as Lady Kallisti and Lord Ving were shown into the room.
“Wait but a moment, Master Jasper, and I will tell you if the product is satisfactory. Kallisti, be a love and come here.”
Her violet eyes sparkling, Kallisti approached Garen with a lovestruck smile, ignoring the worried look of the leather crafter beside the desk.
“Turn please, I wish you to model this for me.”
She obeyed, facing the room, straight and proud, the center of attention. Her smile faltered when the leather encircled her neck, too tightly, and locked into place with a click.
Garen addressed the room. “It looks simple, doesn’t it?” he asked, lifting Kallisti’s chin with one hand to show off his prize.
She pulled away, furious, and to her surprise, he let her go. She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of his casual treatment of her – but no words came. The leather was so tight her blood pounded in her ears, and she feared she would pass out.
“But with this,” Garen continued, “I will conquer the fears of the Duke.”
Kallisti swayed, trying to tug at the constricting leather, but unable to reach the lock without making it so tight that it blurred her vision.
“Have a seat, girl.” Garen pressed her to sit in one of the chairs beside the desk. “It’s easier if you be still,” he whispered. He turned to the silent onlookers. “Master Jasper, you have surpassed my expectations. I expect the finished product in my hands by nightfall. You are dismissed.”
Jasper bowed out of the room, putting the frightened face of the young lady out of his mind as fast as he could. The promised price of the finished collar would feed his family for a year, he told himself. Maybe longer. Whatever unsettling purpose Chancellor Garen had designed it for was none of his concern.
Kallisti’s head spun. The only thing that didn’t make her feel faint was sitting very still, as Garen suggested, but only if she took low, shallow breaths. She had no choice but to sit here before all these people and wait for him to remove the hateful thing.
Ving was as speechless as the pink-faced young lady in such distress beside his desk, and he approached Garen with a worried glance over at her.
“Lord Garen, surely now that your point has been made—”
Garen’s smile did not slip, but his voice was flat and cold as he moved to sit at Ving’s desk. “Take your seat, Sedrick, and we will listen to the young man Corben is going to fetch for us.” A glance from the Chancellor reminded Coben of his duty, and the steward hurried out of the room. “He wishes to speak to you, and I wish to hear what he has to say.”
Ving sat. Tomorrow, he told himself. The tournament begins tomorrow; this madman will be gone in a week. Patience.
“Master Casius, my Lord Ving.”
Master Casius was a thin young man in a gray cloak that had seen better days, who was only slightly surprised by the number of people in the room. His eyes lingered on Kallisti as he bowed low, sweeping the hood of his cloak back to reveal thick black hair and sallow skin.
“My Lords,” he purred, and stood straight under their examination.
Ving recognized him immediately; he had dealt with the pricey young informant before. “What news, Casius?” He spoke first, risking the Chancellor’s wrath but wishing to speed the process along. He wanted nothing more than return to his chambers with a deep goblet of wine.
“As you know, Lord Ving, I have been only too happy in the past to provide you with valuable information regarding the events in your fine city,” Casius began.
Garen disliked him immediately; Ving could sense the Chancellor was very close to having the young man thrown out.
“Straight to the point, Casius,” he said. “I am aware of your usefulness, and your price.”
If Casius was displeased at the interruption, he did not let it show for more than an instant. “As you wish, my Lord Ving. It came to my attention that you and your guest were interested in a certain young woman, accompanied by two men, who may be in town for the tournament. I bring you news of all three.” That got their attention, he saw; the man seated so comfortably in Duke Ving’s chair even took his boots off the desk and sat up straight to address him.
“How came that interest to your attention, Master Casius?”
Casius looked over at Kallisti with a knowing smile, and brought his gaze back to the Chancellor. “A young lady whose delightful acquaintance I made several days past, Lord.”
Garen glanced at the squirming Kallisti, and decided the young lady would regret that particular dalliance. “Who else have you told about this trio, and my interest in them?”
“No one as yet, Lord. My loyalty to my Lord Ving is unquestioned.” Casius clearly believed he held the upper hand in these dealings.
Garen ignored the implication. He resisted the urge to simply push the irritating young man into telling everything he knew so he could be disposed of.
“What news, then, did your loyalty inspire you to bring us this day, Master Casius?”
Seeing the sly hesitation of the face of his informant, Ving spoke up. “My guest rewards loyalty even more generously than I, Casius.”
Casius nodded his acknowledgement to Ving, but kept his eyes on the guest, obviously the more powerful of the two.
“I am certain that the girl is a witch. She has something to do with the local users here in Foley, I followed her to their lair just this morning. I am also certain that her companions lack magical abilities of their own – but are well aware of hers. I do not believe the three are related, I’m sure the larger of the men she travels with is in love with her, and were I to speculate, I would say her magic is related to her voice.” Casius finished his report and waited expectantly.
Garen let him wait.
The information could be used to his advantage, to be sure. The Duke might be so pleased with his prized Chancellor for destroying a hidden nest of magic users that he would overlook the fact that Garen did not produce the body of his wife’s daughter, as he had been sent to do.
The amount of information this one unimpressive man had been able to gather in such a short time, though, was of concern. And how many other times had Kallisti let her tongue run loose? Garen may need to act sooner than he had anticipated.
“You know of the location of the users?” he asked Casius. “Without doubt?”
The young man nodded. “I do, m’Lord. They’ve long hidden under the town in basements and sub-basements, but left no traces for me to follow. The witch you’re after, though, led me straight to their door this morning.”
Awaken Page 18
