Human Mage: Book Three of the Highmage's Plight

by D. H. Aire

  “That does not really surprise me, Majesty.”

  Frowning, she said thoughtfully, “You really do not wield magic?”

  He sighed, “I have been developing some interesting theories about magery, but that is not the same as being what I most certainly am not.”

  “Then what is it you do?” uncertain whether she really wanted an answer from this ‘human.’

  He closed his eyes, “Observe.” The staff in his hand flared; the chair upon which she sat rose into the air. She clasped the armrests tightly, finding herself rocking ever so gently. “Put me down, mageling!” she commanded.

  Her chair settled instantly and lightly back down. “What are you?” she gasped in wonder.

  “Only a man, Majesty.”

  The Empress abruptly gestured him to sit and casually touched her ring. Where no chair had been, there was a chair upon which he, without hesitation, sat.

  “If what you are is a man, must I fear the sudden mageries of mankind?”

  Shaking his head, “Do you truly fear such a simple demonstration? Perhaps, I should explain how it was accomplished?”

  “Ah, not necessary, or my wont... Mage theory was a bane Alrex seemed particularly intent I must learn as a child. I need hear no explanations. That is what advisors are for in any case... Just explain to me how you discovered such gifts.”

  “I cannot take credit for discovering such talent. They exist to one degree or another in everyone— at least every human being to my knowledge.”

  The Empress leaned forward, “Explain.”

  “Perhaps, it would be best if I explain my origins?”

  She nodded, having little doubt that she was about to find out what scheme Highmage Alrex had set in motion and feeling with a certainty that she was not going to like what she was about to hear in the least.

  As George began talking about a distant land called Yurope, she knew she had not been wrong.

  Breathing hard, he stumbled into a well-lit corridor, seemingly from nowhere. He looked behind him warily clutching his staff tightly with both hands, taking a deep breath. He looked about him, trying to ascertain just where he might he. Vaguely, he heard music and what sounded like a gathering of hundreds of people, when he smelled the sweet aroma of food.

  The scent brought his terrible hunger to the fore. It seemed like days since his last meal. His whole body shook with a wave of exhaustion as he leaned more heavily upon his staff. Answers could wait, finding food was the first point of order, later he would discover just what had happened to him.

  Fighting off dizziness, he headed down the corridor toward the source of the sounds and smells. A tapestry hung across the archway at the end of the passage. Warily, he glanced past its edge and stared. There was certainly quite a party going on. He straightened his cloak and smoothed out his jerkin. Well, at least the cloak would be some help, he thought as he closed his eyes and concentrated. The cloak immediately seemed to take on an elegant luster, making him look less ragged than he felt at the moment. Taking a deep breath, he strode past the tapestry and joined the party.

  Grendel gestured, “How those wives of his must starve him.”

  Those about him laughed, noting the focus of Grendel’s attention. The human mage, the unwelcome newest Candidate for Highmage of the Empire, stood wolfing down food at the buffet. “Now he seems one to foster great confidence, does he not?” muttered Tristan y Tane, the provincial ambassador.

  Grendel nodded, with a slight frown. “I thought he had gone after that apprentice of his.”

  Tristan nodded, “One of Empress’s guards escorted the youth out after that little scene with the apprentices earlier.”

  “Hmm,” Grendel muttered to himself, touching the charm at his neck ever so casually.

  Stenh offered Rexil another piece of cake. The lad stared at him with the most uncertain of smiles, “Uh, thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, enough of that, we must make this look good... Aaprin, they would expect me to release you by now. After all, you have always been a favorite of mine and you were the one wronged…” he glanced at Rexil, who paused with food midway to his mouth, and Rexil breathed a sigh of relief. The Guard Captain laughed heartily. Master Deylon nudged Stenh, “Stop trying to frighten the lad. He did just as you wished, Master.”

  Stenh nodded, “Rexil, you’ve great potential and a fine mentor here— but I’ll have no more of your old games at Apprentice Aaprin’s expense... Keep in mind, his Master may not be as pleasant a soul as I.”

  Aaprin saw the look on Rexil’s face and forgot he was even angry with Master Stenh for arranging the incident.

  Deylon then shooed Aaprin out of the room and off he went back to the festivities.

  Passing back through the archway, he remembered to look a bit chastened as he entered the crowd. The orchestra was beginning a new tune even as he began to wend his way back to Balfour and Me’oh, then stopped abruptly, puzzled. His master stood by the buffet, eating with food halfway to his mouth and staring at Balfour and Me’oh incredulously, stupefied.

  There was a look a panic on his face as he turned left and right, clutching his staff in a death grip. His master was staring him at him in the face, eyes incredibly wide, then suddenly, his master was hurrying from the hall toward one of the nearby tapestries.

  Something was terribly wrong, Aaprin realized, wondering where Se’and could be. She would not have left him alone.

  Instantly, he made his decision and moved as swiftly as he could through the crowd in the direction his master had gone.

  “My lord,” muttered the herald respectfully.

  Senason turned, “Yes.”

  “The Empress would like to see you in the West Chambers.”

  He nodded in relief, half afraid that the Empress had left because of things he had said. The human worried him inexplicably. It was he who must be the next Highmage, not the human.

  Only a pure blooded elf could do what had to be done to save the Human lands from the depredations from the North. The halfbloods had led the Empire to their current straits— Grendel could only offer more of the same. Je’orj du Bradelei would prove an utter disaster.

  Senason spoke briefly to a dozen members of the Court as he headed toward the tapestry covered corridor, which led to the private West Chamber. Senason, with the faintest smile, thought of the Empress, his lover, and his best means to the Highmage’s Seat. Soon, it would all be his.

  With a rising sense of urgency Aaprin saw his master pass out of sight behind the tapestry.

  “Excuse me... Pardon me...” he rasped as he rushed to follow. He hurried past the tapestry and stopped to gape.

  Senason frowned noticing the tapestry swaying from the passage of the man who had just passed him.

  He also passed through, calling to the apprentice who stood hesitantly in the middle of the corridor. “You, there. What are you doing here?”

  Empress

  4

  “I made my way across your Empire and really have only a single desire. I wish to return to my home. To do that, I have to go back through the Gate…”

  “Which is impossible,” the Empress stated with a firm shake of her head. “The Gate is sealed.”

  George nodded, “I was brought through it; therefore, I should be able to go back.”

  “Has Alrex given you any indication of that?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Uh, it would take too long to explain.”

  The Empress glared at him.

  He sighed and opened his mouth to voice an answer, when— flash. In intense pain he fell into the depths of unintended rapport. The universe beckoned, the Gate seemingly opening beneath his feet.

  Staff flared, raising barriers against the wave of rapport seemingly out of nowhere. Freed, George crumpled to the floor. A terrible weariness and a sense of aloneness inexplicably filled his mind. He stared, unseeing, as the Empress rushed to kneel at his side with a cry for help.

&nbs
p; The door that had faded from existence reappeared. Se’and burst forth, the Guards a step behind her. The Empress trembled as all around them light dimmed and something sought to fill the room. Se’and grew dizzy as she halted beside Je’orj, her hand unceremoniously dropping to the Empress’s shoulder.

  FLASH! The otherly presence was gone. Staff’s barriers locked firmly into place. George groaned, struggling to sit up, raising hands to his head.

  The guards looked about, warily. “Majesty, are you well?” asked their senior.

  The Empress looked around her wide-eyed. “I think so... What happened?”

  George mumbled, “Staff, opinion.”

  :Insufficient data. However... that appeared to be the Gate.:

  “Milord,” Se’and whispered, helping him to stand.

  The Empress turned away from him, fighting back sudden tears. Something tore at her mind, “By the Light, no!” she yelled, then limped to her chair.

  George stared, feeling her overwhelming grief. “Your Majesty?”

  Tears pouring down her face, she blearily met his gaze, “Senason’s dead... My love is dead.”

  Heads turned as the Empress stiffly entered the Hall, the human mage and one of his Cathartan companions at her side.

  A number of guards fanned out in all directions, then they heard a terrible scream. A woman servant rushed through a tapestried entrance into the hall, crying out in horror. She pointed behind her fretfully, “In there! In there!”

  Imperial Guards, Bane Swords unsheathed, rushed to investigate as the Empress gestured for the crowd to make way. A few moments later a guard called out for a healer to be summoned.

  Master Ofran and Balfour pushed their way forward. “We’re healers!”

  An oddly subdued recently returned young Aaprin was left behind beside Me’oh and the Lady Rowena. The lad was pale, staring at the tapestried passage. “Miladies, excuse me. I feel unwell.”

  Me’oh frowned, touching his forehead and looking into his slightly fevered face, “I can accompany you outside.”

  “No! Uh, I’ll be fine... I just need a breath of fresh air. I’ll be back soon.”

  Me’oh glanced toward Balfour as he entered the covered passageway. “Fine, but if you do not feel any better, come right back. Balfour can take a look at you if need be before we go home.”

  “Yes, m’lady,” he hastily replied, then hurried off through the crowd.

  The Lady Rowena ignored the exchange between the apprentice and the Cathartan. Her gaze wholly focused upon the Empress at the human mage. So that is where he really went off to, she realized.

  Balfour gasped at the sight before him as Ofran knelt beside Senason, already knowing that the elf before them was dead, his blood pooling at their feet. They looked at each other as the Empress’s herald appeared; forbidding entry to the outside until such time as it could be assured there was no assassin about.

  The elderly herald practically hissed orders, as the guards secured the area. The guardsmen began searching the rooms along the corridor, while others took positions throughout.

  “The wards would have indicated the use of magic, would it not?” Balfour asked his uncle as he bent to examine the fatal wound.

  Ofran nodded, replying without looking up at the guardsmen. “Was there any fluctuation in the wards?”

  “None reported, Master,” the ranking guardsman replied.

  “Which would seem to indicate a mundane means of murder.”

  “Seemingly so, Sergeant. Seemingly so,” Ofran answered with a brief glance to Balfour. “Note the pattern of the cut, lad.”

  “It’s not what I might expect from, say, a stiletto.”

  “No, it is much longer than such a blade, but thinner... Look how deep it appears to have reached.”

  Balfour closed his eyes and let his thoughts flow up the length of the cut. “He was killed instantly, Ofran.”

  “That is as I judge... Dead, possibly as little as five minutes ago.”

  Lifting his head, Balfour looked around. The Sergeant heard Ofran’s comment and shouted, “The deed was done just minutes past. The assassin cannot have gotten far!”

  The guards quickened the pace of their investigation, using their Bane Swords to seek out the telltale sign of magical means of egress.

  The Guard Captain arrived, ordering, “Have Master Stenh brought here immediately.” Kneeling beside the healers asked, “What do you make of this, Master Ofran?”

  “Apparently, he was stabbed to death. But by what weapon, I cannot judge... Also, puzzling is the fact that he faced his attacker and was killed in an instant before he could possibly react to the threat against his person,” Ofran commented, while Balfour nodded, bemused by the same indications his uncle was noting.

  Lowell, the Empress’s herald, came forward, “I cannot delay the Empress much longer. With the assassin likely still about, I would prefer reporting to her what you have ascertained elsewhere…”

  “No need,” the Empress said behind them, George and Se’and at her side.

  “If I may be of assistance?” George offered.

  The Empress looked wan as she stared at the body. George stepped forward. His staff flaring as Balfour and Ofran rose, moving aside. “Scanning,” George muttered to himself. Before him the corridor took on a different light. He walked up and down the passage, examining the walls, frowning, his gaze unfocused. His voice a bit stilted, he stated, “There are definite traces of a recent outflow of energy from this point,” he said, glancing at the Empress, who nodded. “It masks everything else around it.”

  “Impossible!” averred the Guard Captain. “The wards would have noted it.”

  George paused and pointed, “Raise your Bane Sword and look carefully at the blade, Captain.” Then off he walked, continuing his strange investigation.

  The captain frowned and raised his sword, but noted no glow of warning. “Nothing.”

  George came closer and said to the blade, “Ware.”

  The blade momentarily glowed an unnatural red, then showed no further sign of magery’s presence. The Captain cursed and George said, “Amazing what you learn when you treat things with a bit of respect.”

  :You are one to talk,: Staff whispered in his mind.

  “Ahem,” he replied, apparently clearing his throat as the Empress watched.

  Master Stenh arrived at that point, taking in matters at a glance, “Captain, carry the blade along the length of the passage. See what else it may detect. The wards may be more limited than we have ever known— or perhaps, as everything else in this age its magic is weakening.”

  “Or,” suggested Ofran, “is the magery of the sort that does not concern the wards like a healer’s magery…”

  George leaned forward, pausing before a joint along the floor and wall. Concentrating, he reached out, his hand suddenly aglow. Something went click and a hidden door silently swung wide. The guards rushed forward as George stepped back, his staff abruptly blazing, lighting up the secret passage.

  The Captain shouted to his men, “Follow where that leads!” Two guards took torches from along the hall and hurried inside.

  George turned, “Follow the tracks in the dust. Though, it appears to be only a single set, coming and going. Tell us if you note any others farther along –– and bring out anything that may have been left behind along the way.”

  The Empress’s Herald frowned, “That passage should not be here.”

  “I will want to review the palace plans, Lowell. And you will also report to me the names of all who have access to them,” the Empress commanded.

  The elderly herald bowed, “Yes, Majesty,” then left.

  “If I may offer a suggestion,” George said to the Empress as Master Ofran moved to the elvin woman’s side, “perhaps, we could adjourn to one of the meeting rooms to discuss our findings.”

  The Empress nodded to her escort and proceeded to the nearest meeting chamber with George and Se’and, the healers, and Master Stenh in her wake. Once in
the room, which offered several plush chairs and a serving table, the Empress sat, “Send for tea.”

  A guard nodded and called for a servant outside.

  “Processing,” he muttered as the Empress gestured and Se’and moved a chair closer to him. He glanced back, disconcerted. Apparently this Empress was less formal than ones he’d read about.

  At a gesture from the Empress, the guards barred the door, leaving the gathered group of Master Stenh, Ofran, Balfour, Je’orj and Se’and to confer in private. Angrily, the Empress faced them and rasped, “So, what do you make of all this?”

  Wryly, George rubbed his chin and asked Balfour, “Did you get samples?”

  The elfblood heater nodded. “Yes and no, Je’orj. There were no fibers or even metallic traces— nothing to give us some hint as to the weapon used.”

  “None, whatsoever?” George asked, frowning.

  Balfour looked at his uncle, “Did you notice anything peculiar about the cut?”

  “The weapon was incredibly thin, if that’s what you mean,” Ofran replied, slightly puzzled by the question. “Nothing else odd about the wound,” Balfour asked cautiously.

  “There were no indicative magical traces.”

  Balfour smiled, “But there was in the blood spilled upon the floor...”

  “What?” Ofran exclaimed.

  “Go look for yourself. I almost missed it, but I was careful to sample everything,” he glanced at the staff in Je’orj’s hands, which abruptly seemed to twinkle with a warm glow.

  :You are progressing nicely, Balfour.:

  “Thank you,” the healer muttered softly in reply.

  The Empress shook her head as Master Ofran hurried from the room to look at the blood stains one more time. “If what you said is true, healer. What does it prove?”

  Balfour glanced at George, who replied, “It proves the presence of a weapon that had a magical origin, possibly to make it appear mundane.”