Human Mage: Book Three of the Highmage's Plight

by D. H. Aire

  “They are not the only threat,” Me’oh added, fervently.

  “The Demonlord nearly killed you yesterday,” Balfour reminded him. “That alone argues for Cle’or’s cautiousness; although, I heartily agree that we can’t let this interfere with our responsibilities. I, for one, will not let it!”

  “No one is asking that, Husband,” replied Me’oh. “But I’ve spent a great deal of time in the Healer’s Hall. They have no great love of what you can do. Human talent is not something that they cannot accept or willingly credit— and that must be taken into account.”

  Wearily, George answered, “Cle’or, do what you must to assure our safety. Alrex has really left us with no choice.”

  “That will be all for now,” Se’and stated.

  Revit and Terus were perspiring heavily as Aaprin worked hard not to gasp like a fish out of water after the thorough workout they had just completed.

  “Wash and change quickly, your next class will commence in fifteen minutes.”

  Bedraggled, they exited, Revit whispering to Terus, who glanced over his shoulder warily.

  Behind them, Fri’il asked Se’and, “So what do you think?”

  Se’and bemusedly shook her head, “Revit, you know, reminds me a little of Vyss.”

  Fri’il shrugged, “It’s probably that blond hair of his.”

  With a slight frown, Se’and nodded, replying, “Teaching the boys is going to be quite a challenge. Think you’re up to it?”

  Resting her hand upon her stomach, Fri’il grinned, “Our practice sessions will be curtailed long before that time arrives...”

  Raven shimmered back to beast form before the doors to the Grand Hall opened and the three lads returned. She watched them warily, noticing how tired they looked. Me’oh called after them that she had juice awaiting them when they came back down.

  Balfour grinned at George. “So, I’m to play teacher... Any idea of just what I have to work with?”

  George replied, “Test them. I’d be very interested in your evaluation before I meet with them this afternoon.”

  When the three returned, Balfour was seated upon the floor. “I hope you’ve had a chance to catch your breath. Cathartans can be rather demanding teachers.”

  Revit and Terus hesitantly sat at Balfour’s urging, while Aaprin seemed much more relaxed, which perhaps could be attributed to the fact that Balfour’s elvin features were so prominent, making the moment more familiar to the elvin trained youth.

  Balfour smiled and asked them to raise their hands.

  Their bared arms showed healing cuts and scrapes. “Those must have been quite painful,” he offered.

  Terus’s eyes narrowed as he replied, “Lucky to have the pain, Master. Might have gone much worse at the Mage Guild.”

  “So it may well have,” Balfour acknowledged, then closed his eyes and concentrated.

  An eerie sensation made Terus start, then Revit and Aaprin. “You can put your hands down now,” Balfour stated, opening his eyes languidly. “Look at them.”

  Revit gaped, “My cuts are gone.”

  “So are mine! You uttered no spell— and I felt no magic. You’ve the human magic,” Terus exclaimed as Aaprin gazed back Balfour oddly, a vague memory nibbling at him.

  Balfour smiled, “I must admit, I’ve no elvin gift at all— and I very much expect that’s true of you three in full measure. Would you like to test that?”

  The boys nodded as one, Balfour’s smile broadened. “Then let us begin with a simple exercise. Close your eyes. I want you to lie back and relax. For now just listen to my voice...”

  When Aaprin opened his eyes he could not remember where he was, then memory returned. He had been looking into his body, watched his beating heart, seeing his blood course through his veins, and staring at the incredibly crowded world that was the cells of his skin.

  Balfour knelt and touched his shoulder and smiled reassuringly, “That’s more than enough for you today. Don’t try to explore on your own— though, I’ve reason to know how tempting it is. It’s important to have a monitor at hand— now help me bring these two around. Neither have your maturity. Though, I am quite impressed with their potential.”

  Aaprin sat up slowly and shook his head, “What? How can I help?”

  “Go to his side there. Gently call his name, then shake him if there appears no response.”

  Aaprin did as he was bid as Balfour knelt at Revit’s side.

  Moments later the two were wide-eyed.

  “Wow.”

  “That was great!”

  They were greeted minutes later by a rather impatient dwarf with a leather satchel across his broad shoulders.

  He frowned at them. “Name’s Spiro. So you’re Aaprin, Terus, and Revit.” They nodded, wondering what skills a dwarf might actually teach. “Know anything of music?”

  “We sing,” Aaprin stated flatly, wondering what all this was about.

  “Sing, fine,” Spiro acknowledge half-heartily. “But can you play?” They looked at him blankly, Spiro inwardly groaned. “Can any of you read musical notation?”

  Aaprin frowned, glancing at Revit and Terus, who instantly began to look bored— never a good sign from the two mischievous youths. “No, sir,” Aaprin answered.

  The dwarf grew angry, “Elves…” Then he noticed the odd look of the blond haired youth. Spiro marched up to him and stared him in the face. “Hmm, at least you’re human. That should mitigate some.”

  Terus harrumphed as Revit quietly stared at the dwarf’s attention. The dwarf abruptly began to sing and pulled a flute from his satchel. They could feel power rising from the music, inherent in the dwarf’s song.

  “But dwarves have no magic,” Aaprin heard himself mutter.

  Spiro laughed, raising his flute to his lips, “I recall saying that to Abernathy right before he threw me into Bardic training.” He blew a few lilting notes and Aaprin felt a breeze pat his sleeve. Revit grunted as an unseen force brushed his cheek. Terus gaped in astonishment as he rose inches off the ground, then settled.

  “Now that I’ve got your attention, come over here. I have flutes for each you. You will first learn the range of sounds of this instrument, then learn musical notation, musical theory, and, um, Bardic history. Your master will teach you of human magic— but know that I’ve enough talent to ward against any apprentice pranks.”

  Revit glanced at Terus, wondering what other surprises might be in store for them. The flutes thrust into their hands made contemplating music lessons all the worse.

  “Enough,” Spiro finally said grimacing as their initial lesson concluded. “I may have had worse students, but I can’t remember when. Lunch is nearly upon us, and I, for one, intend to eat my full share of the cooking. Otherwise, my wage for this is entirely too small!”

  The lads were entirely too pleased to hand him their flutes and hasten from the hall. Terus muttered something starkly elvin to the oldest of the three, which brought a stern glance in response as a veiled glance over his shoulder.

  Spiro grunted, “Se’and, how I let you talk me into this? Blamed elves, anyway!”

  Cathartans

  5

  Me’oh called from the kitchen as Cle’or entered. “Cle’or, ask them to remember this is our home.”

  The dwarven Tett peered through the kitchen door as Cle’or shrugged her shoulders, clearly amused by the sense of being invaded by the axe wielding little people. “Never fear, Lady Me’oh. I’ll remind them of their proper place. After all, Cle’or’s appointed me Senior Warden.”

  Me’oh could not help but laugh at Tett’s bellow to his fellows. “Cle, you’ve done it now! I’ll not see to feeding that whole— decidedly short army.”

  Incredibly, the din outside actually seemed to quiet.

  “Well, on that score at least, they claim only the need of the well for water.”

  “Don’t you believe it,” Balfour said, coming down the stairs, “dwarves are notorious for their capacity to eat. Cle’or, I do h
ope that their arrival heralds the fact that you’ve secured a coach for me to the Hall.”

  “Aye, m’lord— and an escort of sorts.”

  He sighed and offered Me’oh his help in organizing the lunch platters. “Revit, you other boys, don’t try to slip past, come in here and help. Take these to table. Terus, please pour the juice… Ah, thank you, Aaprin, that’s a good lad.”

  Me’oh moved to heft a tray from the oven. “No, allow me,” Balfour hastened to offer. “You do too much.” She grinned at him, “But it’s you who plans to attend the Healer’s Hall til midnight.”

  He snorted and replied, “The Healer’s Oath is no less binding than your own.”

  She kissed his cheek as he closed his eyes a moment. He felt the growing life within her, hale and strong. “Don’t just stand there, Husband, get that to table –– or are you helping for naught?”

  Chuckling, he hustled out.

  When George came down, and Raven in beast form descended with Se’and marching protectively at his back.

  Spiro chose a seat at the table and glanced at the juice being poured. “Bah!” he shouted. “Promised a meal, I was. Proper ale is the least a dwarf should expect.”

  Se’and glared at him as Me’oh strode from the kitchen, “The best reason to keep supplied!”

  Spiro took the mug from Me’oh’s hands. He cautiously sniffed it, then tasted it. “Good enough,” he muttered grimly.

  Eyebrows raised, George sensed much more than the dwarf’s privately expressed delight. Unspoken noise practically smote him between the eyes. Concentrating, George willed a firmer mental rapport; the staff leaning against his chair instantly began to glow. Internal peace beckoned as his mental barriers adjusted to counter the din.

  Fri’il was last to the table. Yet, one other place was set, Aaprin suddenly realized. Revit and Terus met his curious glance as Fri’il looked to the beast now curling up at their master’s side.

  Strange, thought Aaprin, an extra place had also been set at breakfast. He had thought it was meant for an unexpected guest, but now he was not so certain.

  As Spiro heaped his plate high he said, “So has the Imperial representative come by yet?”

  Se’and immediately stiffened, glaring at the dwarf. The dwarf’s manner had reminded the boys that there was food to be had. They liberally helped themselves as Je’orj paused to look at Se’and, “An Imperial representative? Have I missed something?”

  Spiro blinked and smiled crookedly, “Uh, you didn’t know, Milord?”

  Se’and cleared her throat, while Cle’or studied her closely. Me’oh and Fri’il chose to concentrate on the food presently on their plates.

  Balfour sat back, “Okay, the march of dwarves outside has made the morning enough fun. What’s next?”

  “Uh, Lord Husband, while you were away Fri’il attended to a minor matter at Court.”

  “And just what might that be, Fri’il?” George asked.

  The young woman coughed, “M’lord?”

  “What Imperial Office did you visit?”

  “Mm,” Fri’il mumbled, glancing at Se’and hastily, found a decided lack of support, then added, “Uh, that would have been the Imperial Registry. It’s managed basically by Imperial scribes.”

  He waited as Aaprin leaned forward, curious, while Revit and Terus glanced at every face. “Why is someone from the Registry coming here, Fri’il?”

  “Well, actually he’s coming to see Se’and, my Lord Husband,” Fri’il replied tentatively.

  George’s eyes widened slightly, but not more so than his apprentices, who whispered to one another, “Lord Husband?”

  “But aren’t you her husband?” Revit asked his Master, gesturing to the thinly smiling Se’and.

  “Yes,” Se’and stated.

  “No!” he replied.

  “Both of us,” chorused Fri’il with her.

  “But people don’t have more than one wife in the Empire,” Terus stated flatly.

  “That’s fine because I don’t,” replied George, defiantly.

  “Just lots of mistresses,” Revit added, smirking. George and Aaprin’s glare ended the smirk. Revit gulped.

  “Ahem, you can appreciate our dilemma, then,” Se’and stated. “Only Fri’il’s visiting the Imperial Registry could properly attend to it. The representative’s visit is mere formality.”

  George shouted, “Se’and, what have you done?!”

  “Why, only what was proper. Our Household has been, discretely, registered as a consular arm to the House of Vyss Secondson of Catha. The inconvenience that might otherwise have resulted regarding Imperial law will, therefore, not apply to those of the House.”

  “You’ve two wives?” Revit asked, glancing at Fri’il, who looked askance at the incredulous expression on his Master’s face.

  George’s reply was a decisively, “No... but that doesn’t seem to deter them one bit.”

  “Balfour’s your husband,” Terus said, slightly puzzled, gesturing at Me’oh.”

  “And Cle’or’s,” she replied.

  “Oh, don’t look so shocked, you three,” Me’oh said. “Our land is quite different from life here in the Empire or throughout the Crescent. There are less than a hundred Households remaining in Catha. Our lords are few –– very few –– and our species survival hinges upon them.”

  “My Sire made a gift of us to Balfour and Je’orj for saving the life of my brother, Vyss,” Se’and added, “who was near death. My Sire is immensely wise, and reasoned that the Bonding was necessary. Thus, we are Bound to protect our lords as if they were men of our land, wielding dagger and sword in their defense as required. The giving cannot be undone by any means— in this way, we have become wed to our Lords, who we must guard from harm.”

  Cle’or firmly nodded as the apprentices gaped. Spiro actually had forgotten the food before him. What a song this shall make, he thought.

  Je’orj muttered under his breath. His staff instantly glowed. Yet, nothing seemed to dampen the dizzying thoughts and feelings welling around him. The experience was as painful as the Highmage’s Summoning which had brought him half way across the face of this world.

  The knock at the door saved the boys from having to help clean the dishes.

  “Uh, best you boys join Lord Je’orj in the Grand Hall.” Revit and Terus were more than happy to comply; although, Aaprin cast an uncertain look back at Me’oh and heard her whisper to her Sisters, “I have the feeling the less he sees of this the better.”

  The Imperial representative swallowed nervously, glancing back first at the wary dwarves apparently patrolling the grounds. Then he realized that Cle’or had opened the door before him.

  He gaped at the black liveried Cathartan He stared at her fierce faintly battle-scarred cheek and paled at noting the array of hiltless throwing knives she seemed to display. To make matters worse, she actually tried to smile reassuringly at him.

  Se’and quickly took charge and steered the man garbed in an Imperial Service cloak to the table, fearing he might faint –– he had gone that pale.

  “Uh, I’m here to, uh, confirm that—”

  Fri’il nodded, “I offered a letter with our Cathartan credentials at the Registry two days ago.”

  “Hmm, oh, yes, most certainly.” The Imperial representative hurriedly added, “I, myself, did the necessary research, which surprisingly was not as difficult as I at first considered. It seems that, about a year ago, another Cathartan House sought to establish their credentials with that, uh, identical letter, but they, rather quickly, withdrew their petition.” Fri’il glanced at Se’and, who never blinked as the representative continued, “It seems that they left within a day of their very arrival. Oh, it was all quite irregular. It made matters in the Registry quite difficult once the process started, but on the other hand, it benefited your petition. No legal history to have to research through the Archives, you understand.”

  Se’and merely nodded sympathetically. “And how much longer will it take befo
re our House is fully recognized?”

  “Oh, your consular functions are probationary for up to six months, or until we receive word to the contrary from the Imperial legate in Catha— if we have one. We do have one, do we not?”

  “To the best of my knowledge, no.”

  “Well, six months is the probationary limit. Should we learn that the presented document and consulate is illegal, the stiffest penalties will be imposed,” he tried to say with stern authority, but his voice quavered. “Uh, this residence, as recorded by the young lady here, is considered foreign soil. All laws and rights as citizens of Catha pertain here. We caution you against granting legal sanctuary. It complicates matters at the Registry terribly, you know.”

  Se’and simply nodded, while he unrolled his scrolled document. “I must ask you the purpose of this consulate within the Imperial Capital. Merely a formality, you understand.”

  “Of course, we intended to represent the trade interests of our land here in the Capital. Should it prove necessary, a Lord-by-Bond shall represent us at the Imperial Court; otherwise, I am the official consul.”

  The representative nodded, marking the statement on the parchment. “Please read the document for any errors or omissions, then sign here.”

  She did, and he countersigned, taking the Imperial symbol from the chain about his neck. He affixed the seal, then took a deep breath and uttered an elvin word. From the impressed mark outward the parchment crackled and split.

  The representative bowed, “Lady Consul, I present you now with your copy. It is an exact duplicate of the original and neither can now be changed in any way.” Once done, he glanced about him anxiously, “Uh, you must excuse me, but I’m expected back at the Registry.”

  He left hurriedly as the Sisters looked at each other wryly. Once the door closed, they grinned.

  Part Six:

  Human Lore

  1