Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2)

by D. H. Aire

  The captain knew this was his last chance. If they failed, he would die in agony. Fenn du Blain, Trelor’s ruler, in everything but name, would see to that.

  Thomi heard a sound late that night and rose half-dressed from bed. Walsh instantly awoke and began to sniff the air. “You sense it, too?” the boy asked.

  The ogre hefted a thick wooden club and went to the door. He paused, yanking it wide.

  Amira gasped, “Uh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Sighing with relief, Thomi smiled, “It’s all right. What are you doing?”

  She emptied her pouch on the table, next to the fletched arrows she had

  brought. Grinning, she said, “It’s harder than it looks.” She held up an

  arrow. “Care to try?”

  “Try what?”

  “Switching out this, for that arrowhead.”

  He picked up one of the black metal arrowheads. “What is this?”

  “Oh, something I picked up the other day.”

  He sat down, “Okay.” He drew his knife and pried lose the standard arrowhead and worked to replace it with the black one. A moment later, “See?”

  She pushed the rest toward him, “Only a dozen more to go.”

  He grimaced and held out his hand. She gave him another black arrowhead.

  It was only later that Thomi realized that Walsh was watching him from the doorway. Thomi put down the last arrow. “Walsh, what’s wrong?”

  The ogre suddenly tensed, then turned and ran down the corridor. Amira grabbed up the quiver and the arrows as she raced after Thomi who chased his rather large friend.

  The other ogres came from throughout the keep and climbed the parapets. Walsh led them to the wall furthest from the gate. Thomi looked hard and abruptly noticed that the entire Imperial training cadre were hunched warily along that section of the ramparts. Talik gestured to them to stay back, then took a deep breath and spread his hands wide.

  Light blazed above them, dazzling their eyes. “Now!” Talik cried.

  As one the guards rose with their bows notched and let fly. The ogres grabbed the rocks stacked along the length of the wall, then leaned over and threw them. The screams were terrible even as a few dark forms managed to reach the lip of the ramparts, while most of their companions literally were felled, dropping to their deaths.

  Walsh tossed a stone in the air, then hit it resoundingly with his club. The stone struck the foremost figure squarely. His scream rang in Amira’s ears. She hid her face in her hands. Thomi put his arms around her. “It will be over soon.”

  She trembled, knowing that voice. It had said those very words in her dreams that night, which woke her. “You’ll need these, Thomi,” she murmured.

  He blinked, then left her to grab a bow, which she quickly strung, tossing him it back to him.

  His voice echoing from her dream had a deeper timber. She shook her

  head and saw Talik rush across the rampart toward one of the legionnaires, who screamed in agony, yet there was no mark on him.

  Talik pointed and shouted, “They’ve a mage! Get back!”

  A stream of viscous green fluid flowed up the side of the battlement and continued to flow over the now shriveled legionnaire. A bolt of fire shot from Talik’s fingertips and struck the vile stream, which hissed. A green tendril shot forth back at Talik. He cast a warding and the tendril stopped only a foot from him.

  “It’s attracted to magery!” Talik shouted.

  Amira’s gaped, then shouted, “Thomi, use the arrow!”

  “Um, I only know how to string them!”

  “Well, it looks like you’re about to learn!”

  He did as the tendrils sprouting, surrounded and cocooned Talik’s warded form. Thomi drew the string to his ear as Amira tossed several more arrows before him. His arm wavered, then steadied.

  The tendrils squeezed Talik’s warding shield, sparks showered. Amira’s chainmail began to swirl in fluid. She spread her arms and – saw the mageborn feeding the tendril far below and the commandos climbing without ropes or ladders.

  The tendril suddenly released Talik, turned, drawn to the High

  Magery of her scrying. Talik slumped feeling drained.

  Thomi let fly. Black metal and spell met. The resultant explosion knocked Thomi off his feet and the tendril burst into flame.

  Amira saw the mageborn below shriek in agony as the tendrils flamed and raced back to their mageborn source.

  Gazing with her unseeing eyes at Thomi, she cried, “You must shoot their mage before it is too late.”

  “That’s all well and good, but don’t I need to see him?”

  The keep quaked.

  Walsh shouted, “Here –– Thomi!”

  The boy hurried up to the higher battlement, bow and three of the arrows she had thrown him clutched in his hand.

  She saw him atop the battlement. Saw the next wave of invaders scaling over the wall, daggers drawn. Several lost their footing to the quaking and fell backward into the night clutching for the reaching hands of their

  fellows –– only a few succeeded –– the rest fell, screaming.

  Ogres and legionnaires stumbled forward as they moved to engage the new enemy. Thomi positioned himself over the parapet and drew. The ground beneath his feet steadied. Amira abruptly saw through Thomi’s eyes as he drew back to his ear, targeted the point below where the mageborn glowed to her sight as a number of his men fell from down the length of the stone wall, knocking the Trelorian soldiers guarding him off the road and the rest of the way down the escarpment.

  The mage looked up and met Thomi’s glowing gaze in the distance. Thomi released.

  The mageborn sorcerer laughed, cast his warding spell to block the arrow, then gasped as the spell had no effect. Well, at least not the effect he expected.

  There was an explosion that momentarily blinded him and all his men. However, Thomi was not. He drew his next arrow and let fly and notched his last arrow. He blinked past the glare, which was

  dimming, sensing Amira directing his sight yet again.

  He loosed as the mage’s illusion faded, revealing one of the goblin Raslinn’s determined ilk. The first arrow struck, exploding against his wards, knocking him a step back. He heard the whistling passage of the second arrow too late to do other than partially ward himself again. The explosion this time was nearly on top of him. Making him tumble back down the road. The last arrow struck his enchanted mail. Flame burst around him, sending him plummeting off the edge to his death with an inchoate scream.

  Amira had one last seeing, a commando’s hand reaching over the wall for Thomi’s throat. Before she knew what she was doing, she raced up to Thomi’s side, leaped passed him, stabbing her knife into that hand as it reached over the stone.

  The man cried out.

  Walsh rushed to their side, reached over and grabbed the Trelorian soldier. He threw him down, knocking off one of his fellows climbing up behind him. They both screamed on their way down. The legionnaires let fly with their arrows. There were many more screams.

  The last of their attackers were overcome and several legionnaires lay dead,

  others were wounded. The remainder were moving, though exhausted,

  trying to help the living as best they may. Ogres carried the worst hurt down from the battlements to Talik, who struggled to heal them.

  The remaining Trelorian soldiers fled back down the Imperial Road to the lands below. Their retreat so hasty that they knocked many of their fellows off the narrower sections of the path. They fell screaming, which only added to the chaos.

  Thomi stared at Amira, “You were in my mind.”

  “You needed to know where your target was.”

  “Uh, thanks,” he muttered.

  She smiled. “You definitely handled that bow better than I could.”

  He grinned, then they went to talk with the Archmage.

  The legionnaire he treated gasped as his wounds vanished. Talik

  swayed as a
youngling ogre offered a steadying hand. “Well, Lord

  Niota, they know you’ve a mage here now.” He coughed as an ogre with a wicked cut down his arm sought his help. “And that the Empire has truly reclaimed this place.”

  “Then we’ve won,” Thomi said.

  “For now,” Talik replied, then took a deep breath and focused on the ogre’s injury. The cut glowed and healed, slower than the exhausted Archmage liked.

  At which point, Amira’s chainmail swirled once more and she saw. She screamed, then collapsed at Thomi’s feet. He knelt beside her, “Amira!”

  Walsh looked at his fellows as they listened to NI–O–TA lay claim the elvin girl. He bent and picked her up and carried her inside the keep as Thomi demanded, “She’ll be all right, won’t she?”

  “She –– be –– fine.”

  “Uh, Walsh, where are you taking her? Uh, Walsh, that’s my room.”

  Pausing, the ogre considered his words carefully, “Bed –– soft.”

  Thomi frowned and said, “Uh, fine, give her my bed, then!”

  Seeking an Audience

  Chapter 52

  Galt saddled the mount as half asleep apprentices gathered provisions for his saddlebags.

  “Where are you off to?” Talik’s old servant, Hynrik, demanded, coming out of the main building.

  “Oh, I’m pulling a Talik,” Galt replied.

  The old man frowned, “That why you’ve ordered the other Faeryn here to stay in Lyai.”

  “Trust me, Hynrik. You really don’t want to know.”

  ‘Hurry,’ the voice urged.

  “I’m going!”

  Hynrik frowned, but Galt had already turned his back and finished casting an illusion of invisibility as he left the Faeryn Hall’s grounds, knowing the last thing he needed was for anyone to be scrying on him –– particularly at a time like this.

  An apprenticed yawned, then asked, “Hynik, who was he talking to?”

  “I don’t think either of us want to know. Not when he’s assuredly pulled a Talik.”

  “Uh, Je’orj, I really don’t think this is such a good idea,” Se’and muttered.

  “It likely isn’t,” he replied, leaning on his staff. “But Master Terhun seemed rather insistent, dear.”

  Archmage Constandine’s Guild representatives were watching them. A few had their hands on their dagger hilts.

  They worked their way through the outer Provincial Courts to the inner one over the course of hours. Raven and a fake bandaged Fri’il, both dressed as servants, carried along their master’s sample wares.

  Staff never stirred. Then again between Se’and and Fri’il they had a lot of

  throwing knives concealed but readily accessible.

  Dustin spent the night in Faeryn Hall, which was little more than a former inn where Talik called meetings and gave guests lodgings. One of Dustin’s duties was to see to the place’s maintenance twice a week. The Faeryn tended to congregate here most evenings and Dustin figured that there was no better place to try to ascertain what Master Galt’s interest in the healer might be when Galt found him.

  They felt the sudden drawing on the Hall’s ancient wards –– something keyed to their Archmage. It was only for a moment. Dustin took in a quick breath and heard someone with a very lovely voice say, “The Dark One’s likely not having a good day today, either.”

  He turned and saw Master Galt with a lovely young woman in elvin chainmail of all things. “My bet’s on Talik.”

  The young woman smiled.

  Galt grinned at Dustin, “Ah, just who I am looking for?”

  Nervously, Dustin feared what the Master would surely ask him about his interest. But what Galt said had nothing to do with that. Instead, he asked Dustin for a favor, a particularly thorny one.

  “Who, me?”

  “As Talik’s protégé you can deliver the request – directly to the Lyai.”

  “But –– a request for an audience has to go through official channels...”

  Galt smiled wickedly, “Of course, but we both know what will happen when I try that.”

  “Lord Amberlet will forestall it simply because…”

  “Talik, the Heir Designate, happens to be the Faeryn Archmage of

  the Province, and has been accused of providing secrets to the

  Empire’s enemies… secrets that have been scryed out.”

  Dustin swallowed. Why did these things keep happening to him? “This is that important?”

  “On my honor, young journeyman.”

  Dustin took the letter and headed for the palace, already having decided that his best chance of getting the letter through to the Lyai would be through Terhun. Well, it was time to make some demands of his own wasn’t it? Well, it should, he kept telling himself all the way to the palace.

  #

  Esperanza entered the Provincial Court with Galt at her side. He was

  dressed flamboyantly as a mage and bore the sheathed black sword across his back.

  The herald immediately reported their request to Lord Amberlet, chancellor of the Lyai’s Court and the former regent to the Lyai, who had recently come of age. “Ah, Master Galt, there you are. And this would be?”

  “Scryer Esperanza of the Consecrated’s Tower,” he replied.

  “Lord Chancellor,” she bowed. “It is urgent I speak with Lord Lyai on a matter of gravest urgency.”

  He frowned. “Galt, the Lyai has agreed to see her –– but you must leave. I’ll not have His Majesty criticized for involving himself with a Faeryn mage.”

  “Even one sent here by the Heir Designate?”

  Amberlet grimaced, “Until the day he’s been cleared of the charges against him, policy is policy. Now leave us.”

  Galt bowed, “So long as you take her immediately to Lord Lyai.”

  “Oh, I shall, I promise.”

  Esperanza had not liked the old elf’s smile, but her message was too important to doubt herself now. Lord Amberlet led her into his offices and gestured for her to speak. “I’ll not bring you to Lord Lyai

  without knowing the reason for this impromptu audience.”

  She hesitated, then told him of the Lady Mother’s treason. How Niota had been deliberately mis–seen in their scrying by a powerful spell of illusion. Even now, Niota was under siege by enemies of the Empire.

  “This is a horrifying tale you tell, young lady.”

  “That is why the Lyai must send more troops immediately. The fastness resists the Trelorian troops, but the Lady Mother must be stopped before her mageries can harm anyone further.”

  Amberlet sighed, “If you are to be believed.”

  “I swear on…”

  ”But she stands already foresworn,” the Lady Mother announced stepping through a side door. “It is as I told you, Lord Chancellor.” Esperanza gasped and raised her hand to voice a spell and only a strangled sound was uttered. “See? Esperanza would raise a foul conjuring in your very presence, Milord! She has joined Lord Talik in darkest treason. She has poisoned our scrying and would see you send troops away from protecting the Lyai. This tale of Niota under siege is a total fabrication.”

  Esperanza turned to run as the door opened behind her. Imperial guardsmen strode forth, then dragged her, helplessly, away.

  Amberlet is being far too helpful, Galt thought to himself as the Lord Chancellor led Esperanza away. He looked about him and noticed the approach of the next petitioner. Two Guild mages entered the room and raised a warding blocking the exit behind him.

  The enchanted dagger was highly toxic, and the man’s drawing it was Galt’s only warning. Instinctively he grabbed the black sword’s hilt and only partially drew it before the assassin’s magery was loosed.

  The spell and metal touched. The enchanted dagger shattered. The explosion deafened them shaking the walls and floor. The assassin was flung backward to the hard stone of the far wall. The assassin felt his neck break just before he died, even as Galt was brought to his knees and released his grip
on the sword, which snicked back into its sheath.

  The floor shook as Amberlet watched the traitor carried away. “What in the Empress’s name was that?”

  The Lady Mother frowned, “I don’t know. But I think we should find out.”

  Amberlet gasped, “Oh, no, it must be Galt!”

  They ran, but it was too late. Lord Amberlet shouted at the guards to alert the Imperial mages that Galt was a rogue and had to be brought to justice. The guards rushed to obey. Two Imperial mages lay unconscious from no imaginable cause, and a corpse lay sprawled not far away.

  Terhun stared at the message Dustin handed him. He had torn the envelope open before the young Faeryn mage could argue.

  “I’m sorry for the delay, but I’ve waited hours to see you!”

  The Imperial agent read it and blanched. “Drat –– the Lady Mother arrived here earlier today. She’s been in conference with Lord Amberlet ever since.”

  The floor trembled. Dustin paled. “Galt.”

  “Your friend is in a great deal of trouble –– we’ve little time! Come with me!” They ran down the corridor.

  The Lyai turned at the noise. His bodyguards drew their bane swords as the figure ran across the room toward the far door, then noticing where he was and hastily stopped. “Uh, beg pardon, your Majesty. Just passing through.”

  Blinking the Lyai stared at the mage, then recognized him, “Galt?”

  “Hmm, you do remember me. It’s been a long time. Did you get my letter by any chance?”

  “Letter?”

  “Uh huh, I’ll have to have a long talk with Dustin about that.” The far door opened and Terhun raced in with the young journeyman mage in question at his heels. Galt smiled, “Ah, good lad, but I think you are a bit late delivering my message.”

  Dustin swallowed and nodded as the Lyai, his guards, and everyone else in the room stared at one another. Terhun broke the tableau by clearing his throat, “Majesty, we seem to have a bit of a problem…”