Centyr Dominance
By
Michael G. Manning
Cover by Amalia Chitulescu
Editing by Grace Bryan Butler
© 2016 by Michael G. Manning
All rights reserved.
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Chapter 1
Moira Illeniel studied her companions. They stood close to her in the near darkness of the castle courtyard. It was still some hours until first light.
“Are you sure this is wise?” asked Gram. His new dragon, Grace, rode on his armored shoulders. She was still small, having hatched only a few days previously, but she already weighed close to fifty pounds. The young warrior gave no sign of noticing her weight.
Mordecai’s creations, the dragons of Lothion, grew quickly. Grace would probably be larger than a horse within a couple of weeks, and she would be large enough to ride soon after that. Today though, the two of them would ride with Moira, atop her dragon, Cassandra’s wide back.
Matthew stood next to him, looking upward with his natural sight, although it was too dark for them to see anything. Instead his magesight roamed outward, hoping to detect the approach of his dragon, Desacus.
The Countess will be angry once she realizes we have gone, noted Grace, broadcasting her thoughts to all of them. And I can’t say that I blame her.
“Someone has to find Father, and the people need her,” said Moira, repeating her earlier argument. “We have to go.”
Chad Grayson spoke, “And she’ll be rightly pissed when she discovers ye’ve tied her hands. Once the two of ye have left, she’ll be forced to stay close to home.”
“We are much better equipped for this search,” pronounced Matthew. “She’s better suited to handling the task of ruling here.” He turned his face toward the hunter, “No one is asking you to come.”
Chad’s features grew irritated, “Might as well sign my arrest warrant if ye leave me here.”
“No one knows you had any part in this,” observed Moira.
“Heh!” chuffed the ranger. “That dark witch will suss it out before the day is done, and they’ll have me before the Countess soon after. Ye might as well put me in chains yerself.”
“Mother wouldn’t put you in chains…,” began Moira, but Gram interrupted.
“Dark witch?” said the broad-shouldered knight.
“Yer mother, Lady Hightower,” clarified the woodsman. Lady Rose Thornbear had inherited her father’s title, and while Elise Thornbear still lived she was properly called Lady Hightower rather than Lady Thornbear.
Gram and Chad had worked together long enough that the hunter’s rough words rarely bothered him anymore, but he was still puzzled. “Witch? My mother doesn’t have any magical ability.”
Chad squinted in the dim light, “I ain’t so sure o’ that. She always kens more than any person has a right to know. It makes a man nervous when she looks into his eyes.”
Moira smirked at that, but only her brother could discern the expression in the dim light. Matthew was nodding in agreement.
“It could be that she conspires with dark powers,” suggested Matthew with an air of mock seriousness.
Gram was agape at that. “Really? I’m surrounded by wizards, and you’re suggesting my mother’s a witch?”
Moira laughed softly, keeping her voice low, “You have to admit it’s uncanny what she figures out, Gram. I have magesight, and she still knows more than me about what’s going on in people’s heads.”
Gram knew they were teasing him by then, and he certainly understood how frightening his mother’s powers of discernment could be. “She wouldn’t have you locked up,” he stated firmly, directing his remark toward the hunter. “She’s not vindictive.”
“That’s as may be,” said Chad, “and I ain’t so sure of it, but the Countess is most certainly temperamental. Once Lady Hightower outs me, Her Excellency might well put me in chains for letting her young cubs run off on their own.”
“It still might be wiser for you to take your chances here rather than come with us,” said Moira.
“And that’s exactly why I’m comin’,” responded Chad. “None of ye are old enough to have the sense of a goat.”
I hope you aren’t including me in that assessment, Master Grayson, responded Grace mentally.
His reply was drowned out by the sound of beating wings, Cassandra and Desacus were descending. Once the massive creatures had landed the group split up. Moira, Gram, and Grace climbed aboard Cassandra, while Matthew and Chad took spots on Desacus’ back. Soon they were winging their way carefully to the east, heading in the direction of the mountains where Mordecai Illeniel had disappeared.
As they flew the sun slowly appeared on the horizon in front of them, setting the sky aglow with red and orange hues. Gram and Chad were white knuckled, clinging desperately to the rough scales of their respective dragons as they rode behind Moira and Matthew. Grace was considerably more relaxed; even if she were dislodged, she could fly on her own.
Several hours later they landed on the southern slope of one of the smaller mountains.
“This doesn’t look promising,” said Gram, studying the stony ground. It would be hard to track anything there, assuming they found any sign of the lost Count to begin with.
“You’re sure this is it?” asked Matthew.
Moira nodded. “This is the area. All of my spell-beasts returned except the one assigned to this region.”
“Bitchin’ about it ain’t gonna help,” remarked Chad. “Let’s spread out and start lookin’.”
The dragons took to the air once more, circling to study the terrain below. The humans did likewise, albeit much more slowly since they were now on foot. Matthew and Moira studied the terrain with their magesight, while Gram and Chad looked for more mundane signs.
The day dragged on slowly, while the dry mountain air grew steadily hotter. It was shortly after noon when Gram spotted the cracked granite stones that indicated a place where something had struck the mountainside with tremendous force.
There was no discoloration of the rocks, but the shear lines were fresh and sharp, a subtle contrast to the more softly weathered stones around them. He was too far from the others for them to hear him, so he sent his thoughts skyward, calling to his dragon. Grace, I think I’ve found something.
The small dragon passed the word along to the others, and in less than a quarter of an hour they had gathered around his find.
“I don’t see anything,” said Matthew.
Moira felt similarly, but her brother’s confidence annoyed her, “I’m not a tracker so I wouldn’t presume to make assumptions.”
Matthew glared at her, but Master Grayson spoke first, “No, the lad has found somethin’ here. Look at the edges, do ye see that?” The older man ran his finger along the sharp granite.
“They’re more jagged,” said Matthew, rubbing his chin.
As if he hadn’t just said he didn’t see anything, thought Moira. “Can you tell what happened?” she asked, keeping her irritation to herself.
Gram and the huntsman exchanged glances. “We’re on a mountainside, and it’s been over a week now. Anything more subtle than this is probably long gone,” admitted Gram.
“Still, it gives us a place to work around,” suggested Chad.
Moira closed her eyes, expanding her senses outward. Beside her, she could feel her brother doing likewise. At first she felt nothing unusual, but after a minute she found something. Using her aythar, she invisibly highlighted the spot to draw her brother’s attention to the area. “Do
you see it?” she asked aloud.
“The start of a cave,” he mumbled in agreement. He pointed downslope for the benefit of the two non-mages.
Moving carefully, they made their way downward, studying the rocks as they went.
“I can’t see shit,” complained Chad, looking at the area around his feet. They were near a large boulder which, along with a sturdy bush mostly concealed what appeared to be a small recess in the mountainside. “If he went in there is anyone’s guess.”
“He isn’t there now,” stated Moira, “unless it goes farther in than I can sense. Hopefully, we can find something to tell us where to go from here.”
“An’ what if we don’t? What if we find whatever put yer almighty father down? How’re we gonna handle somethin’ like that?” said the hunter.
Moira glared at the dour ranger, biting her tongue rather than respond immediately. She already wished he hadn’t come with them.
“There’s nothing in there,” observed Matthew. “Nothing powerful at least, although I can feel something odd.” His eyes held a distant look.
“Some sort of trace aythar,” agreed Moira, “but it smells strange.”
“Smells?” asked Gram.
“We don’t really have proper words for what we sense with magesight, so I just borrow whatever seems to fit,” she explained. “This has an unusual flavor, like some sort of magic I haven’t seen before.”
“Then it’s probably a trap,” advised Chad.
“You think everything is a trap,” said Gram, hoping to lighten the mood.
“An’ I’m never disappointed,” replied the hunter, “only pleasantly surprised when I’m mistaken. Better that than the other way ‘round.”
“It isn’t a trap,” pronounced Matthew.
“Ye can’t know that,” argued Chad.
The young wizard gave him a flat stare, “I know. I’m familiar with this magic.”
Moira’s brow wrinkled as she listened.
Matthew understood her question, and in response he pointed at his upper arm, tracing a line across the area just below the shoulder. “Remember?”
That’s where I had to reattach his arm, she thought to herself, after he practically amputated it. The reminder brought with it the memory of the strange aythar that had lingered in Matthew’s workshop that day. Moira nodded before adding, “That isn’t reassuring.”
Her brother sighed. He should have known she wouldn’t understand. “I need to examine whatever is in there if I’m going to figure this out.”
“It’d be more prudent to tell yer lady mother first…” suggested the hunter. “We probably ain’t ready fer whatever’s in there.”
“He’s already fought one god and won,” noted Gram, and with another word he activated his sword. Scales of shining steel appeared in a cloud around the hilt and rapidly began covering his body. Within moments he was covered in glimmering armor.
Moira felt a hint of recognition as the scales began winking into existence. The aythar was similar to what lay within the cave.
“An’ his father fought more’n that and look what good…” began Chad, but Gram wasn’t listening. With his armor on, the young man was already making his way into the cave. The twin wizards filed in behind him. Feckin’ kids, groused the hunter silently.
The back of the niche held a tall but narrow passage. The dark crack was perhaps ten feet from top to bottom, but it was only two foot wide at its broadest point. The bottom was narrow and awkward to step on, threatening to trap their feet or twist an ankle. There were places on either side where the stone was scorched. Ragged grooves indicated the claw marks of something impossibly strong.
“I don’t think the opening was originally this wide,” suggested Gram.
Ye think?! quipped the hunter mentally. He kept his mouth shut, however. He was too busy trying to figure out how he would use his bow if something came at them from the darkness. It was on his back, with the string across his chest to allow his hands the freedom he needed to clamber through the awkward passage. If anything happened, he would be hard pressed to respond in any meaningful way. Worse, the entry was so difficult it would make any sudden retreat impossible.
Ten feet in, the floor widened and they were able to walk again, rather than scrabble along.
“It goes farther back than I thought,” said Matthew.
“Hold on,” said Moira. Lifting her hand, she focused her will, producing a small insect-like creature of pure aythar on her palm. Once the shape had formed, her mind twisted the strands of aythar that composed it until they began to pulse and thrum with life. Thousands of complex connections formed within the tiny beast in no more than the span of a minute, guided by the young woman’s instinct.
Matthew watched her manipulating the aythar with undisguised curiosity, and perhaps a touch of jealousy, although he would never have admitted it. His sister’s Centyr heritage gave her the ability to do some things that seemed patently absurd to his rational mind. After a moment, he felt the tiny beast’s mind awaken and begin to communicate with Moira’s.
She held her arm out, and the creature leapt away, taking flight on delicate wings. It flew into the darkness and was almost immediately lost to sight. It remained quite visible to magesight, though. It sent a steady stream of descriptions and mental impressions back to her as it ranged outward to the limits of her senses, using its perception to extend her range.
“There’s nothing else here,” she told them after a few minutes. “Or if there is, it’s nothing my pet can discern.”
“Anything new in the area where the traces are?” asked Matthew.
That place was less than a hundred yards from their current location and well within both of their perceptual ranges. Moira’s pet had revealed nothing new about that area.
“No,” she responded. “But there are no other traces deeper in. Whatever happened here, that’s probably the extent of it.”
“Let’s go have a look for ourselves then,” said Gram, his voice oddly muted by the metal armor that covered his face. It was easy to forget it was there. The enchantment made the parts that covered his face transparent to the point of invisibility, but they still altered the resonance of sounds coming and going.
Maybe I should fix that, pondered Matthew, but if I do, the armor might completely ignore sonic attacks. It might be possible to selectively ignore the sounds produced by his voice while filtering non-native sounds, but then he’d be effectively deaf. Someone punched his shoulder then.
“Hey, dumbass, let’s move,” said Moira. “You’re blocking the way.”
“I was thinking about something,” he answered angrily.
Moira leaned closer, already incensed, “It would be nice if you did your thinking when you weren’t standing in front of everybody.”
“You’re such a jerk, Moira,” he spat out reflexively.
The words were nothing unusual, but she felt a familiar pain at their utterance. I’ve always tried to look out for you, and you do nothing but attack me as soon as you’re the least bit inconvenienced, she thought. “I’m a jerk?!” were the words that actually came out of her mouth. “You’re the idiot who cut off his own arm! Maybe I was being a jerk when I put it back on for you?”
Gram separated them and moved into the space between them, “Let’s argue about stupid shit after we find the Count.”
“Perhaps one of ye would be so kind as to make a light?” asked the hunter from the rear of the group. “I can’t see a gods-damned thing back here.”
Matthew closed his mouth even as he created a light on the end of his staff. Moira created two small firefly-like creatures, each carrying a similar light. They buzzed ahead and illuminated the caverns in front of them.
“Show off,” said Matthew with some irritation.
The hunter ground his teeth in annoyance at their continued bickering. “Worst feckin’ twins I’ve ever known,” he said softly to himself.
“She’s adopted,” said Matthew.
M
oira gave her brother a look that promised future retribution even as Chad wondered to himself, How did he hear me?
Gram answered his unspoken question, “The dragons give all of us unbelievably good hearing.”
“Now, if they would just make the lot of ye smarter too, I’d be eternally grateful,” responded the hunter.
Gram responded by pushing past the twin wizards and moving forward into the passageway. They followed him, saving their argument for later, while the hunter brought up the rear.
Two offshoots led to dead ends, but Moira warned Gram away from them, and they continued until they came to the chamber that held the strange traces of aythar. It was a larger cavern, some twenty yards across and nearly forty in length. Water lay in a shallow pool to one side, but it was a flattened area in the center that drew their attention.
The floor appeared to have been melted there, and it was readily apparent that it hadn’t been from some natural geologic process. Moira and Matthew both moved to the spot, their faces rapt with concentration.
Damned magic, thought Chad, but then his eyes spotted something off to one side, a ripped and torn tabard. Gram followed his eyes and picked it up before he could say anything.
Moira considered the traces of aythar with curiosity. The cave was full of them. Something momentous had occurred there. The feeling they carried was indeed similar to the magic that lay behind Gram’s sword and the magic she had felt the day Matthew had accidentally severed his own arm. Even so, she could make no sense of it. She turned her attention to Gram and the ranger. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Someone’s discarded livery,” offered Gram, holding up the ragged cloth.
Chad frowned. Something seemed off to him.
“I don’t recognize it,” admitted Moira.
“It represents the Earl of Berlagen, in western Dunbar,” explained Gram.
Moira gave him a surprised look, “How did you know that?”
“I may not be as bright as some, but Mother made me memorize the crests of every known house in Lothion, Gododdin, and Dunbar,” answered the young knight.
Centyr Dominance Page 1
