Archon's Hope: Book III of 'The Magician's Brother' Series

by HDA Roberts

  Archon's Hope

  Book III of 'The Magician's Brother' Series

  HDA Roberts

  Copyright © 2018 HDA Roberts

  All rights reserved.

  Any resemblance to any person living or dead is unintentional.

  Cover by Warren Design

  Chapter 1

  Bearing in mind how my problems tend to creep up on me, it should come as no surprise that my latest brush with annihilation began well before I had even the slightest clue it was happening. It wasn't that I was unused to nasty surprises; it was just that I was really caught unawares by this one.

  I landed outside the Conclave Building in a cocoon of shadow, two weeks before the end of my summer holidays; the day before my eighteenth birthday, actually. I was dressed for overly formal idiocy, in a dark suit with a scholar's gown over the jacket and the purple hood of a Sorcerer draped over the back. I felt like a kid in his father's clothes, this wasn't anywhere near my comfort zone. Before I landed, I made sure that a half-decent pair of sunglasses covered my moderately terrifying red and black eyes (best not to scare the villagers, they have pitchforks, you know).

  My English teacher (and I suppose Magic teacher, oh, and also an Archon, if you haven't been paying attention), Miss Hopkins, was waiting outside the front doors for me.

  "Where the hell have you been?" she asked without preamble.

  She was an attractive, young looking, woman dressed in a business suit with her own gown over the top, but her hood was white (the Archons' colour) and pulled up over her head. It had some discreet Space-warping spells on it to keep her face hidden, as she didn't want to be outed as an Archon, not until the First Shadow turned up, anyway.

  "At the movies, if you must know, which was twenty miles away from my good clothes; which was in turn more than a hundred miles away from here. So I think I made relatively good time, bearing in mind you called me less than an hour ago, thank you very much," I replied, releasing my shadows.

  She sighed, rubbing her eyes under the hood, "This is important, Mathew, Councilman Thorne is putting a motion before the Conclave today, and it's regarding you."

  "Me? I haven't done anything... lately," I said, hopefully not too sheepishly, "What's it about?"

  "Nobody knows. Nobody will tell us. It's annoying. And that's not good, Bart doesn't react well to annoyance."

  Bartholomew Killian, otherwise known as Mortis, The Archon of Death, is not a fellow you want to annoy. None of them are, really, but him especially. I'm no slouch in the magical department, but he could kill me six different ways with his pinkie-finger and I'd never know he'd done it until I'd keeled over.

  And why were Magicians of that power level interested in keeping me informed, you ask? Well, simply put, they were looking for their long-lost brother, the Archon of Shadow. They had a whole ludicrous plan that involved drawing him to my school. I didn't like it, but they were technically my heads of state, so I had to do as I was told. Personally I still bend knee to the Queen, but whether or not they have the legal authority to demand my cooperation doesn't really matter; they're still Magicians way more powerful than me, and I like breathing.

  "What's the worst that could happen?" I asked, following her towards the Conclave Building's front doors. The building itself was a vaguely circular slab of intricately carved and enchanted marble, built almost like the Coliseum, only the hollow centre was smaller and used for slightly less bloody pursuits (but then it is government, so it's not that much less bloody...). It was right in the middle of the city of Stonebridge, and was the seat of the Archons' power in Britain.

  "The worst? You get put on trial, convicted and sent to the Farm for assault, grievous bodily harm, robbery, trespassing and whatever other trumped up charges they want. They're scared, Mathew, scared of you."

  "Oh, not this again," I complained.

  There had been steadily increasing mutters about a new Shadowborn Sorcerer knocking about the place (me), and since they all go bad, and in fact monstrously so (Black Death, Great Fire of London, various civil wars, genocides, ancient terrors of the world, that sort of bad), those mutters had all been along the lines of 'lock him up before he kills us'.

  The Archons, who turned out to be quite a decent sort for incalculably powerful Magcians, weren't having that, but they were still rebuilding their political power base after their absence, and their authority was a little shaky at the moment. Hopkins had told me that Killian wanted to make an example or two, he and Lady Vanessa Kron (Lady Time) were the two oldest of the five, and they favoured a more... old-world, pyrotechnic solution to these problems. Hopkins and Lucille Palmyra, (The Starborn Lady and the Lifeweaver respectively) were cautioning against burning anything down, and they were just managing to keep the others in check, probably for no other reason than they didn't need the negative publicity that mass arson would bring down in a media savvy age.

  However, this meant that the Conclave now thought that they had a chance to put the Archons in their place, and things were starting to get a little tense as the people desperate to hold onto the power the Archons had vacated (the Conclave Primus and his Theologian Party), clashed with its rightful owners.

  And it would appear that yours-truly was going to be caught between the resultant broadsides (when you're dealing with this sort of firepower, that's not a great place to be).

  "Yes, this again," she said, rounding on me, "and you are going to have to take this seriously. Thorne is a powerful man, and he lost his daughter during the last Black Rising. He hates all Shadowborn with a passion. And he's a friend of the Faust family, which can't help."

  My upper lip twitched just a little as I heard the name Faust. Neither the family patriarch, Lord Faust, nor his granddaughter, Jocelyn, had endeared themselves to me. Looking forward to the day when I settle those accounts, actually.

  "Mathew, shadows!" Hopkins hissed; inky black coils had started leeching from every darkened patch as I experienced that sudden flash of remembered pain.

  "Sorry," I said, embarrassed, sending them back with an effort of Will.

  "No, I'm sorry, I know that you and the Fausts have a complex history," she said, patting my shoulder.

  I shrugged and followed.

  "Now, keep calm and don't let him bait you. When it's your turn to speak, just be yourself and try not to scare anyone," she said as she led me into the foyer.

  "I could stand there and recite 'James and the Giant Peach', and people would still be scared. I really think it would be better if I just stopped coming here," I said.

  "Like hell you will!" she replied, "You have every right to be in that chamber. If there are bigots around, then they will just have to make their peace with that."

  "Ah, so that's what you're after," I said with a sigh.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You want me here to get people used to the idea of having a Shadowborn around again for when your brother turns up."

  She rolled her eyes, "You and that martyr complex of yours. I am not staking you out as bait or using you as a political minesweeper, nor would I. Like it or not, you're going to be part of the Conclave's workings for a long time. You are a Sorcerer, after all, and the Crow Faction thinks that they work for you. So you'll have to turn up at least some of the time, and I'll be damned if I'll let you get heckled or treated like a sub-human when you do. And while it's true that when the First Shadow does reveal himself, you will have laid the ground work, that is not the reason I'm making a fuss over this, and you know it. So stop being such a little girl."

  I sighed again as we walked up the big staircase onto the m
ain level. There were another two sets of stairs to my left and right, stone like the one we'd just come up. The building was part palace, part parliament building; grandeur and function blending into something awe-inspiring and rather magnificent. Mages of various stripe were walking hither and thither, about some errand or another. Most of the building's inhabitants would already be in their seats for the Conclave, so anyone out there would be a lackey of some sort.

  "Alright, remember, Thorne may not hold the title, but he's the Primus in all but name. He's the power behind the throne, he'll do the talking, and he speaks for the Conclave. Keep that in mind, please? And I'm begging you not to cause trouble today," she almost pleaded.

  "I don't know, I'm pretty bored," I said levelly.

  "So help me, Mathew..." she said, turning back to me.

  "Alright, alright, I'll be good," I said with a mischievous grin.

  "I swear, of all the problems I have to deal with, you are the most irritating!"

  "I would point out that I was just minding my own business before you turned up and ruined a perfectly pleasant, quiet existence with your intrigues and your Archon-nonsense," I replied.

  "Just get to the gallery!" she replied testily, walking to the big wooden doors that led to the ground level of the Conclave Chamber.

  I smirked (once I was sure she couldn't see) and walked up the closest set of steps, and then up another level and another, all the way to the top before stepping out onto the Sorcerer's Gallery. The Conclave Chamber was huge, an hall with three levels containing multiple tiers of seats, the bottom was where the actual Conclave sat, a few more than two hundred ministers seated with a dais at the North end, on which there were five seats, four of which were occupied by the Archons. The fifth seat, on the far left, was left vacant with a white hood over the back bearing the vertical-slit eye of the Shadow Mages; the same one I wore on the front of my hood. Hopkins, Killian and Palmyra had their hoods up, their faces concealed, but Kron's handsome features were on show.

  She really was rather attractive in a severe sort of way. She was pale, with dark eyes and an intense expression, lithe rather than full-figured. She radiated a kind of steady competence that I always found reassuring. Her fingers tapped idly at the hand-rests of her seat, and the ceremonial armour she wore shone in the subdued light of the chamber. She was the only one who wore armour, the other three wore business attire. She was also the only one with an obvious weapon, a silver war-hammer resting on the ground, head down. If any of them was a pure warrior, it was she.

  The main floor had three gallery levels set above it, the one immediately above the Conclave chamber was set aside for envoys and dignitaries, and had quite a few people in it; the Archons were something of a draw, after all. Above that was the level for visitors; normal people (called Pureborn by polite Magicians) usually journalists and anybody else from the community at large that wanted to view a Conclave meeting. Above that was the level for observers who also happened to be registered Magicians, and the most comfortable sections were set aside for Sorcerers such as myself.

  If I had to tolerate politics for hours at a time, at least I could do it with my bottom on a comfortable chair; settee, actually. I sat down on one close to the front, where I'd have a good view, and settled in. There were maybe half a dozen others in my section of the gallery, most wore hoods, and most moved to the far side of the space after I'd sat down.

  Except for one figure, who made her way over and sat down next to me, pulling down her hood. I looked over and my face broke out in a smile.

  "What brings you out here?" I asked as Captain Cassandra Vaillancourt of the Archive's Keepers pulled me into a hug before looking me over.

  "A spectacle, most likely," she said.

  Cassandra and I shared a very strange friendship. She hated Shadowborn, really hated them, but I'd managed to persuade her that I wasn't so bad. She actually liked me and I must confess to being rather fond of the battleaxe. She was one of the most inherently decent people I've ever met, which was doubly impressive when you know how her life began (a major contributing factor in her hatred of anyone that would, could or does use Black Magic). Because of that, and at complete odds with just how much of a phenomenally dangerous woman she is, I was rather protective of her.

  She was tall, with classically beautiful features, striking eyes and dark hair. I should have spotted the crimson of her Wizard's hood, but I tried not to look too much at the others in the gallery, most of whom wouldn't even speak to me on account of my affinity.

  "Hopkins did mention something about an impending cock-up," I said as we sat back down, "I wasn't really paying attention."

  I could feel her roll her eyes, "You shouldn't be so cavalier," she said, elbowing me in the ribs.

  We chatted, catching up as the Conclave started their afternoon business. There was some motion about the S.C.A.; another about the Ley-line Pathways, a construction which was supposed to provide teleportation across the globe, but hadn't worked since the fifteenth century; another order of business concerned relations with one of the Fairy Courts.

  I ignored most of it as Cassandra told me what she'd been up to. The part of the afternoon relevant to me began just as she finished telling me about an ambitious, yet half-witted, book thief who'd very nearly managed to get away from her Archive with a rare edition of a fairly basic spell book. The Keeper who'd almost let him get away with it, who'd been seduced by a roguish smile and a quick fumble in an alley, was now in rather hot water and was looking at the next five years on the night shift (something which hadn't existed before I broke in, which I was actually rather proud of).

  "Order, order," Kron said loudly, as the final debate came to an end, "the Seat recognises Councillor, the Lord Thorne."

  He was a tall man, handsome and strong. He wore a dark suit under his robes and a purple hood with a stylised lightning bolt on the front. The edges were covered with a couple of dozen pendants and decorations indicating skills, qualifications and specialities. Mine had a few, but nothing like that many. His Aura told me that he was an Air Mage, and a good one at that. Not a Battlemage by any means, but still powerful; and no Sorcerer as old as him wasn't versatile. He'd be dangerous if he ever came after me directly.

  "I wish to call this council's attention to a viper in our midst, a monster in the making," Thorne's voice was deep and strong, carrying well.

  "Laying it on a bit thick, isn't he?" I whispered to Cassandra.

  "Shh!"

  "I refer, of course, to Mathew Graves, the Shadowborn Sorcerer. This man, at the age of seventeen, has already proven himself more dangerous than many of our Battlemages. I quote from a report, written by Jeremiah Kraab, Chief Investigating Officer of the S.C.A.. here in Stonebridge: 'As a Sorcerer, Mathew Graves is an impressive young man, talented and very clever. But as a Shadowborn, he is a danger that might well prove beyond the capacity of my department to deal with alone.'. This, honourable councillors, from the man charged with defending this city!"

  There was muttering from the Conclave, many councillors stood, waiting to be recognised, many from the Crows, the faction of well-meaning lunatics who think I'm the new Dark Lord, the poor idiots.

  But Thorne wasn't finished.

  "We know, it is a fact, that Shadowborn eventually taste the Black. It is a fact that a Shadowborn Sorcerer who tastes the Black becomes a blight upon the land. These are incontestable, irrefutable facts. Graves is going to kill thousands, it is only a matter of time. Think of what he has already done! Andromeda Caine, defeated by him in personal combat, along with her entire hunting party. He's bonded with the Grimoire, he's amassed a power base that includes Lycanthropes, factions of this very council, and even a Succubus, if the rumours are to be believed!"

  "Someone's been talking out of school," I said, turning towards my friend.

  Cassandra looked... miffed to say the least. As protective as I am of her, she was at least as protective of me, and she was getting more and more pissed off as time went
on, I could feel her power start to flare and spike as she got angrier.

  "Easy," I whispered, squeezing her hand, "it's just words."

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She squeezed me back and nodded once, her temper back under control.

  "If my sources are correct, he even managed to corrupt the captain of the Grimoire's guard. There's even talk that she gave him access to it in exchange for promises!"

  "You come up here and say that!" some idiot roared.

  Oh, right, me. That idiot.

  I was on my feet, glaring down into the Conclave.

  "The Seat recognises Mathew Graves," Kron said, turning a slightly smug eye on Thorne, who blustered a bit at being interrupted before sitting down.

  I took a moment to calm myself. I could feel Cassandra smirking next to me. Well, I suppose I'd rather earned that after disregarding my own advice...

  "As a Shadowborn, I've become used to a certain amount of prejudice when I mix with our society," I began, my voice amplified by the discreet enchantments built into the chamber, "Even so, I have been fortunate to encounter people, good men and women, who have been willing to look past the facts of my birth, and so I have made friends. I am honoured to number Captain Vaillancourt among those friends. She, and those like her, are people of integrity, who have been willing to give the benefit of the doubt to someone who others consider a monster on sight. And you want to vilify them?"

  I made sure to glare right at Thorne, "Insult me if you want, make me out to be a monster or a thug; at this point, and after months of getting snubbed by you and yours, I really don't care. But come after my people, and you and I will have a problem. I say this to anyone else in here who may think me a Black Magician in the making, nothing is more likely to bring that out of me than going after the people in my life."

  "How dare you?!" Thorne shouted right back, "You piece of Shadowborn filth! You come into this place and you threaten it's councillors-"