Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2)

by D. H. Aire

  Mother Knows Best

  Chapter 53

  The Lady Mother smiled thinly as she carefully warded Esperanza. The young woman groaned as Amberlet’s guards tried to tear off her chainmail, trying to search for hidden talismans or charms which she might use to try to free herself.

  “Ow,” she said yet again.

  “It won’t come off,” one said to the other.

  “Well, we’ll just have to tie her up and get a binding ward.”

  “Uh, you have one?”

  “Idiot! I thought you did!”

  “Ah, I won’t tell Lord Amberlet, if you won’t.”

  “Argh, help me tighten the bindings, then go get one –– fast!”

  She tried to explain, but that only made nearest strike her before the other hastened from the room to get the binding talisman. He returned only moments ahead of Lord Amberlet and the elvin lady.

  All Esperanza could do was stare at the Lady Mother, who finished her spell. No sound issued from her mouth, Esperanza’s bindings were apparently very inclusive.

  The Chancellor frowned, “Do you really think this necessary?”

  “We should take no chances, particularly with her Faeryn lover on the loose,” the Lady Mother cautioned, then gave Esperanza a quick, wicked, smile.

  “Lover?” Amberlet rasped.

  “Surely you do not doubt that it was the Faeryn who turned her from proper magery and to evil?”

  Amberlet’s gaze clouded. “I put nothing past the heretics.”

  “Leave me alone with her and I will get her to admit the truth.”

  “I –– uh –– I can’t permit torture. That must be the Lyai’s decision.”

  “How can you trust that he will not feel sympathy for her? Is she not beautiful?” she asked as the old elf glanced at Esperanza uncomfortably. “The Lyai is practically a child!”

  “I know that, but…”

  The door burst open. “What is this?” The Lyai demanded. His bodyguards entered with their bane sword drawn stood taking defensive positions around him.

  The Lord Amberlet stared and stammered, “Your Grace.”

  “Why have you done this, Amberlet?”

  “She’s an assassin, Your Grace,” he replied. “She’s a servant of the Demonlord, himself. The Lady Mother barely arrived in time to warn us!”

  “Lady Mother, you are far from your Tower. Why did you not seek me out immediately?”

  She bowed graciously. “Your Grace, I would have done so long before now had not this traitorous woman come here so quickly. I pray we can unravel her foul plans as soon as possible. Your life is in terrible danger!”

  “From her?” he muttered. “Bound and warded? What harm can she expect to do me? Leave us now. I will speak with you after learning the truth for myself.”

  The Lyai raised his hand and chanted an elvish word of power. Magelight bathed her bound form. “Young lady, you will give me your Oath, compelling you to tell me the truth.” He gestured for one of his guards to remove the binding talisman.

  The Lady Mother’s gaze narrowed as she felt the warning sting of an ancient and great mageries. She bowed, “As my lord wills.” She nudged Amberlet to accompany her, thinking furiously. She suddenly knew what must be done. The moment the talisman was removed and the scryer was freed to speak the Lady Mother cried

  out in seeming agony, “She’s breached my wards!”

  Amberlet shrieked, “Stop her! She’ll kill the Lyai!”

  Galt stood next to Dustin in the hallway and stiffened when he heard the woman’s cry. He raced forward into the room, unsheathing the black sword as one bodyguard bodily shoved the Lyai backward. The other raced toward the furiously struggling Esperanza, who stared at the sword in Galt’s hands, “GALT, NO! SHEATH IT!”

  There was a terrifying explosion as the Lady Mother finished whispering a

  deadly spell. The guards were flung off their feet dropping their bane swords, one of which almost cut Galt as he dove through the explosive.

  The Lord Chancellor shouted for help as he found himself on the floor.

  Galt squinted, trying to find their nemesis, then he saw Lady Mother stagger to her feet, her ears ringing. Uncertain what had happened, she knew she had to stop Esperanza. She shouted a spell and raised a wraith, its form appeared amidst the smoke and falling dust from the ceiling. It coalesced, taking form as the Lady Mother pointed and cried, “Kill her!”

  Galt did the only thing he could. He threw the black sword at the thing with all his might.

  The Lady Mother felt the wrongness, sensed her minion’s recoil, then fear, as the dark sword was cast spinning toward it.

  The blade struck just as its deadly ebony touch reached Esperanza. The creature exploded out of existence, rending the Lady Mother’s energies at the same time. She cried out in agony that was no longer feigned.

  Coughing, Galt struggled to his feet as Dustin struggled to rise off the floor yet again, “Master Galt!”

  “Here,” the Faeryn mage croaked, half stumbling amid the rubble.

  Dustin reached him quickly. “See to the Lyai,” he heard himself say distantly.

  Esperanza’s chair had been knocked over and her chainmail felt strange. Frost covered it where the wraith had touched it, but shaking her head she realized she was all right. Then she was being untied. “You all right, Milady?”

  She turned head and muttered, “Majesty?”

  The young elflord smiled at her, “And you likely thought Galt had such a good plan.”

  The Faeryn master retrieved the black sword and sheathed it, saying, “Esperanza, great safety tip.”

  Amberlet was coughing as Dustin helped right Esperanza’s chair. One of the Lyai’s surviving bodyguards helped the Chancellor rise. “Are you all right, Your Grace?”

  Galt took a deep breath and knelt by the slumped Lady Mother, who was

  writhing in pain.

  The Lyai removed the talisman binding Esperanza, muttered, “Duty calls,” and strode across the room to the semi–conscious figure. He set the binding talisman on the Lady Mother. “Cart this traitorous woman to the most strongly warded chamber we possess!”

  Esperanza stood up, her legs feeling wobbly as Dustin helped steady her. That’s when she felt terribly cold and fainted.

  Galt grasped Dustin by the arm, shoved him aside and knelt beside the scryer. Her chainmail was changing, flowing like water and in its reflection he glimpsed… He shouted, “Go to the Healer in the Lower City. Bring him here as quick as you can!”

  The Lyai rushed over, “What’s wrong?”

  “The wraith’s done something to her.”

  Swallowing hard, Dustin ran as fast as he could, hearing the Chancellor muttering, “I – I don’t understand.”

  The Lyai shouted, “Get out of my sight, you old fool!”

  Dustin did not know how he could reach the Lower City fast enough until he noted the carriage with the Scryer’s Network’s markings. The driver gaped at him as he leapt to the seat and took up the reins. “Hey, you can’t do that! Get down from there!”

  “Make way!” Dustin cried while kicking free the brake. “By order of the Lyai!”

  The guards quickly got out of his way as the horses raced forward out of the palace’s courtyard.

  Amira remembered a nightmare. She was to be bound to this land forever –– and wed by the will of the spirit of the keep to the boy with his ogre bodyguard. She was to be bred for Niota’s line. It was monstrous.

  It was full morning when she heard her name being whispered. “Esperanza?” she muttered.

  Niota is safe I see.

  Amira looked about her, trying to ascertain from what vantage her dearest friend was scrying her from. “It was Talik that sensed them first.”

  You will need to form a proper Tower and reform the Scryer’s Network that has been broken by treachery.

  “You will come here then? Between the two of us I…”

  No, I’m sorry I don’t think that is t
o be my fate. Amira, you are strong. Niota is stronger for your presence there. I can feel it. I have accomplished what I set out to do. Goodbye, my friend.

  Amira felt the link between them fade and shivered. She felt a terrible sense of foreboding. She began to run, “Master Talik!”

  “There is little I can do, Milord.”

  The Lyai had the elvin woman set in his own bed. “But, but she looks physically unharmed,” the Lyai rasped, thinking that she had been young and beautiful. Now all that was changing. Esperanza was

  growing winkled and haggard with age.

  ‘Galt, draw the sword and place it by her side.’

  “Will that cure her?” he muttered under his breath.

  ‘No. But it will slow the curse’s progress.’

  “How long has she?” the Lyai asked as Galt did as the voice bid.

  The healer replied, grimacing at the sight of the sword. “I’m sorry, but I cannot say –– the magery that has done this is like none I have ever seen.”

  Galt growled at the healer. “The sword will slow its effects. I just pray he gets here in time.”

  Terhun frowned, entering the chamber. “Who?” There was only one stranger in the city he could think of that might challenge this woman’s fate.

  “Oh, a healer of greater skill than any I have ever heard tell of –– a healer worthy of Faeryn mastery.”

  The Lyai’s healer grimaced. “There is no such thing as a Faeryn healer!”

  “Perhaps not,” Galt offered. “But this one’s skill would impress even Archmage Talik –– so should you not accept him, we shall most graciously.”

  Balfour looked up from the young boy, whose arm he had just healed. His father was offering to buy him an ale that night as payment. “Cle’or,” he whispered, hearing someone running up the stairs.

  She tensed, seeing the Faeryn journeyman mage come to the door. “Master Healer!” Dustin cried, out of breath. “You must come with me. Come with me to the palace. I fear there’s little time!”

  Balfour grabbed his things and the two of them ran shouting at Me’oh that they would return as soon as they could. Dustin hurried them, “I’ve a carriage waiting!”

  Esperanza dreamed. She knew she was dying, felt her life force

  ebbing. She said goodbye to Amira, having been afraid that perhaps she had left her friend to as dim a fate as her own.

  Yet, seeing Amira in Niota buoyed her. She knew that all would be well there now. Her spirit was as strong as the stones of that keep. She would form a tower there, a place from which they could watch all the Lowlands, including part of the northern Crescent likely better than their fellow scryers had watched the Northlands in recent years.

  She flinched, feeling a stinging sensation, which became an unbearable itch. Is this what it feels like to die?

  I would hazard not, averred a voice in her mind.

  Esperanza thought she knew that voice. But from where?

  Talik came running with young Thomi not far behind. “Amira, what’s wrong?!” Talik shouted.

  “It’s Esperanza! She’s dying!” Amira cried sitting up in bed, then shrieked, “Where are my clothes?”

  “What’s going on?” Thomi shouted worriedly. “Is it another attack?”

  “What happened to my mail?” she cried.

  Talik glanced at the lad, who hesitantly replied, “Uh, well, I was sitting at your bedside, and pushed back a strand of your hair.” She was glaring at him. “That’s when… well… uh… your mail turned to water and, uh, splashed all over mine. But a moment later I was dry. That was really odd.”

  “His mail’s thicker than it was.”

  “You’re wearing my mail?” she muttered.

  “Um, I, uh, think so.”

  She held out her hand, “Give it back!”

  “Uh, how?”

  Talik chuckled, then said, “Yes, how?”

  She beat her arms on the blankets, “How am I supposed to know?” Then she remembered. “Oh.”

  “What?” Talik asked.

  Amira blushed. “Never mind, it’s not important. It’s Esperanza I’m worried about,” Amira replied hastily. “She came to me in my dreams. I felt her dying. I must scry her immediately –– but we’ve no links up, and Lyai is too far away for me to do it alone!”

  The Faeryn Archmage nodded, “What do you need?”

  She swallowed, then gestured, “Only him.”

  “Me?” Thomi muttered.

  Nodding, she muttered, “You and a large bathtub.”

  Walsh shambled across the room and opened a door, “Tub.”

  Talik said, “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

  Thomi muttered, “Huh?”

  She looked at Thomi, “Go in there and stand in the damn tub, then take off that mail.”

  The boy hesitated.

  Walsh gave him a gentle push, “NI––O––TA –– help.”

  “Quickly!” she shouted as Thomi paused in the bathroom doorway. He hurried to the bathtub and climbed in, then began undressing.

  Amira glared at the ogre, “Turn around!”

  Sheepishly, the hulking creature did so. She climbed out of the bed, knowing that she was trapped by fate.

  Walsh knelt and pounded his fists upon the room’s stone floor. “Ni –– o –– ta!” He sang. “Ni –– o –– ta! Scry!”

  The keep’s wards flared and the air shimmered. NI––O––TA watched the young elvin woman cross the room. Saw his young lordling finish stripping out of his elvin mail, then glance to the doorway. Thomi gaped as Amira approached him and climbed into the tub, moved to stand opposite him.

  NI–O–TA heard the vibration of her words, “So, the two of us are

  bound. Both of us to this ancient place. But don’t be getting any ideas, boy!”

  “Me?” he said with a squeak.

  She reached across to her and drew her close and hugged him, “Watch those hands, boy.”

  “Uh, yes… Ma’am.” The tub was filling with water as the chainmail melted away like ice.

  “Call me Amira,” she muttered as the water rose. “After all, we’re getting married.”

  “Married?”

  She lowered her head and kissed him as the waters suddenly welled, enveloping them.

  NI––O––TA exulted. Its line now lived –– and would continue.

  The Scrying Tower beaconed and the ground trembled for leagues.

  Trelorian troops were being exhorted back up the narrow road on pain of death by their Captain, who knew failure we bring a fate worse than mere death.

  They trudged forward; the earthquake caught them by surprise. The road gave way and hundreds plunged to their deaths.

  The Scryer’s Network had long been suborned, but no longer. Those tasked with watching felt a bright light to the east. They saw Niota –– refugees, troops, more than two score ogres, and the Trelorian army, whose soldiers were falling to their deaths for the Imperial Road.

  The light flowed westward toward the city of Lyai.

  Scryers in their midst began screaming as the light overwhelmed them. They fought to defend themselves with darkness as their colleagues gaped in horror, knowing them for minions of the Demonlord.

  Amira focused her scrying, concentrating on reaching Esperanza as Thomi fought for breath. He broke through the water for a moment and filled his lungs with air as the scrying waters flowed over them once more. He turned back and kissed Amira, feeding the air she desperately needed in order to prolong her scrying.

  Thomi instinctively drew away for air, yet again, and again as his blood sang with NI––O––TA in his veins and the spirit of his destined mate.

  Balfour took one look at the withered old woman and shuddered, wondering how he could break the spell. Cle’or’s gasp is what drew his attention. She was staring at the black sword that Galt had laid beside her.

  “Kyrr’s sword,” she muttered.

  He realized, even as he felt it having an effect, although a minor one,
that it was similar to Je’orj’s anti–magical blade. “You’re not Staff,” he muttered

  to himself, “but let’s see if there is more to you than meets the eye.”

  Cle’or ushered everyone back as Balfour touched the hilt of the sword, then reached out with his mind. Esperanza’s whole body trembled. Balfour felt a presence tied to the sword ––something he felt he should know.

  The link flared in his mind. He and the blade were one. According to Dustin, Galt’s odd bane sword had sundered a wraith’s death magic, a piece had leapt into the woman, aging her. Had she been fully human she would already be dead. Her elfblood meant a significantly longer lifespan for it to feed upon. Now it was only awaiting her death.

  It was elusive. Esperanza thrashed even as Balfour rasped, “Cle’or, keep everyone away. No one must touch her.”

  Cle’or shoved them back.

  The Lyai looked anxiously at those sharp blades and considered disobeying this newcome healer’s word. His guards could surely deal with her easily enough, yet the look of stillness and understanding on Galt’s face gave him pause. Cle’or nodded respectfully as the Lyai gave a mocking bow of acquiescence, then she turned back to watch over Balfour.

  “Where are you hiding?” Balfour muttered ever so softly.

  There, whispered that other presence bound with the dark metal sword.

  Balfour tensed, trying to ascertain where the presence was, then sensed it.

  Ni–– o –– ta, Ni –– o –– ta, Ni –– o –– ta scry, he heard faintly but clearly: It hides there!

  It was a tiny speck of darkness, hiding amidst her beating heart. He took the sword, touching its tip to her heart, then stabbed. Blood fountained as Esperanza screamed and the metal pierced the splinter of the wraith.

  Voices cried out as Balfour was rocked backward as he withdrew the sword point and focused on healing heart and tissue in an instant. Once done, he collapsed. Cle’or, ever quick, caught him before his head could hit the ground.

  Prejudices

  Chapter 54