She chuckled throatily at that. "I think I like you, John. We're heading to Goldenwheat Province, just below. Why don't you join us?"
John smiled, feeling strangely energized after their conversation, and oddly certain that the captain wasn't going to turn him in, execute him, or otherwise stab him in the back. "Sounds good! Just hold on a minute and let me collect some... ahem, trophies. Proof I did what I was paid to do."
The captain raised a curious eyebrow before catching John's gaze once more, and his thoughts as well. "Ears? Barbaric."
John shrugged. "I wasn't the one negotiating." He then groaned, gazing about the field as the troopers murmured in growing unease.
"Captain, the bodies, they're all disintegrating!"
And it was true. All of them were shriveling up before John's eyes. Taunting him, it seemed, as even the ones mostly preserved corpse would crumble to powdery skin and bones the moment he approached. He gave a rueful chuckle. "No bounty for me, I guess."
The captain quirked an eyebrow. "I'll certainly vouch for your kills, John. This infestation is why we were summoned here in the first place." Her gaze hardened. "Let's hope our wounded don't become fresh living corpses themselves."
More than a couple of men shuddered at that.
"Calm yourselves!" the captain snapped. "You all know my relationship with the mayor. Though admirably modest for her station, she and her husband are both mages who have elected to avoid the dreadful politics their kind are plagued with. But don't let their humble trappings fool you. Their powers are considerable, and they are among the many mages that we count as allies in our quest for a peaceful Jordia."
John's eyes widened. It seemed the Everwoods were playing for both teams.
"As they should, John. Only fanatics and fools insist on opposing us, trying to reignite conflicts long since decided. Wiser mages with a degree of Personal Resonance Mastery will always be welcomed by the Dominion."
John frowned. Was it really that simple?
"If you're not trying to start an insurrection or otherwise sticking your nose in that God-awful succession, then yes, John. It really is that simple. Do you have any idea how many Highlords are eager to count gifted mage-healers among their staff? So long as they have even rudimentary control over their emissions, they'll be given a grand chateau of their own, complete with servants, pampered like lords themselves! After all, a healer can restore in hours or days what it takes regeneration vats months to repair, assuming the caster is a master of his or her craft. Almost every Highlord savvy enough to truly appreciate the potential of mages hopes to win trust sufficient to gain access to, well, whatever arcane secrets extend their lives without the use of rejuvenation vats. To say nothing of all the other odd knacks various wizards have that could give a generous patron a fantastic edge in trade, negotiation, or espionage."
John blinked, flashing a smile as he rode beside the captain, putting his one summer of horseback riding to good use, though he had no doubt his horse was following her herd, and he just along for a ride. "You seem to be pretty well versed in politics and magic both."
Greenfield chuckled softly as they entered town proper once more. "Let's just say I had a very well-rounded childhood." She shrugged. "Had things been different... and I believe that's the mayor, just ahead."
Elowin Everwood's pinched gaze eased into a relieved smile as Greenfield's forces eased to a halt, the captain saluting the mayor. "Fifth regiment answering Goldenwheat's distress call. How may we be of service?"
But Elowin was having none of it, wrapping the dismounting captain in a fierce hug. "Where have you been, Agneta? I've been trying to reach you for ages!"
Agneta Greenfield smiled. "I'm sorry, Elowin. I would have visited much sooner if I could. As it stands, I only received your distress signal the other day. The electromana storms have gotten so bad that not even the Hyperion telegraph network gets through. And actual televised signals? Forget it."
Elowin nodded. "I had feared as much. It's the only reason I resorted to Terran adventurers."
John smirked. "I'm right here, you know."
Agneta nodded. "And he did well, Sister. We were ambushed in the woods, in the clearing two miles before town, right where it branches out. These lancing sabers are absolute rubbish in the madness of melee. If nothing else, the death of several of my men will force those bastards in supply to listen!" She shook her head. "But enough of that. Please, Elowin, tell me your husband is available? Six of my men took serious injury, and from what our chance-met companion has told me on the walk here, should those wounds fester, the results would be..."
"Catastrophic." Elowin swallowed. "Marcus maintains the ward around the central keep, Sister. It's the only thing keeping those horrors at bay when night falls. Were it not for the food stores and enchantments within, I fear our situation would already be perilous."
John blinked. Sisters? He frowned, squinting, suddenly seeing the similarities in their features. They looked more like cousins than sisters to his eyes, but they were definitely related.
"Same pride, different mothers, and we're almost a century apart in age," Agneta explained. "Now quit staring and thinking at me with such surprise, John. It's rude."
John flushed. "I'm sorry. I have no idea how to control the volume of my thoughts."
Elowin caught Agneta's gaze as they made their way up to the keep, the soldiers having already gone on ahead with the mayor's assurances that her husband Marcus would treat the injured soldiers right away. "He really saved you?"
Agneta nodded. "It would have been bad, Sister. I've been dancing with command for our old sabers back, or just to kit us up like knights of old, and boy did I get an earful for making that request." She chuckled softly. "Those damned popinjays are more concerned with shiny parades and pristine uniforms than keeping the frontier secure. It's like they've already given up on it! They do nothing but sit around and bitch about the succession. At least now those bastards will have to okay my request, and if I'm lucky, I can even push for some proper steel armor. None of the rebels bother with blasters anyway, and a crossbow bolt will tear right through our sorry excuses for shields and armor, even if it can deflect lasers and the odd saber blow."
Elowin swallowed, forcing a smile, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I am sorry that things are so rough for your unit, Agneta. I wish you'd just leave. You have your forty years, but now, now..." She broke down into sobs as Agneta paled.
"Phoebe's mercy. Those monsters took Mary!"
"You could always read me so well, Sister. But my angel isn't the only one. Thirty children are missing. And only because my daughter's screams echo through my mind all night long do I have any hope that she's alive at all. As much as it leaves me in tears to hear, at least I know that she's still human!"
Elowin could hold back her sobs no longer. Agneta's golden eyes flashed with sudden heat. "I swear by all that's holy, I'm getting Mary back. I'm getting all those children back!"
Elowin seemed to melt in her sister's arms, Agneta bothered not at all by her sister's weight, carrying her effortlessly up to the keep, her horse following docilely behind. She caught John’s gaze. "Are you with me?"
John jerked a nod. "Sure as shit, I am. Let's find that goddamned nest, save the kids, and stake every last one of those fuckers!"
Agneta flashed a faint smile. "Cursing like a soldier, with a heart as noble as my son's. I knew there was a reason why I didn't run you through. Alright, John. Thank Phoebe the keep has no mandate to retire old equipment. I'll properly kit up my troops, and we'll all head there at first light."
John blinked. Agneta was a mom? Intellectually, John knew that Jordians, especially Highlords, savored a youth that lasted centuries, and would rejuvenate themselves in special high-tech vats every 200 or so years. Just some of the trivia the entire internet was ablaze with, the whole world falling in love with Endless and the characters within, like a favorite soap opera, even if only a fraction thought it anything more than a game. Mitch
would roll his eyes like it was the most boring topic in the world the few times John would think to bring it up, his father looking outright angry whenever John mentioned anything to do with Endless.
Only now did John understand why.
And everyone had their favorite villains too, of course; the former special forces soldier purportedly responsible for thousands of deaths, with a massive bounty on his head and government orders to be shot on sight on both worlds, being perhaps the most popular. Though why the former soldier had so much heat on him if it was all just a game was never explained. But Valor Hunter’s antics were now followed almost religiously by his fans and fiercest opponents alike, being compared to Napoleon or Genghis Kahn on Readit as much as he was Hannibal Lecter or Charles Bundy on television.
Probably because, in their heart of hearts, more than a few people knew the invasion was real. A tyrannical, mind-reading Overlord had taken over Earth, and everyone secretly hoped a human could turn the tables and take Jordia's throne.
John shook his head. It was strange how he had completely forgotten that player even existed, until Mason had mentioned him just the other day.
Agneta abruptly stopped, grabbing a startled John's wrist and squeezing.
John winced as the captain’s eyes blazed into his own. Her words chilled him to the quick.
"You think dangerous thoughts, boy. Did you not remind me of my son, had you not saved the lives of my men, were you not willing to charge headlong into danger at first light to rescue children you have no ties to..." She gave an angry shake of her head. "Silence your mind. Say and think nothing until we get to my quarters."
John gulped and nodded. Shit, was she really able to read him so well?
"Yes, John. You're very loud. Which means you actually have potential that no one ever bothered to train. A problem we need to rectify as soon as possible.”
Later that night, after being squirreled away in a comfortable suite John learned had once been quarters shared by Agneta's family many years ago, he found himself wilting under the hard gaze of a woman he both admired and feared.
"Eat, John. Elowin's cooks are some of the best you'll find in the South."
John grimaced, forcing himself to take a few mouthfuls of a rather delicious curry full of unidentifiable meat covered in a tangy orange sauce that left a warm glow in his mouth and a craving for more. He blinked, surprised to see his bowl empty so fast.
And there Agneta sat, gazing at him so silently, reminding him for some odd reason of mystic masters helping young initiates to harness their inner qi. Agneta quirked a smile. "Not quite, John. But I'll do my best to teach you what you need to know to avoid losing your head over a stray thought."
John paled, lowering his gaze.
"That's right, child. This is no game. What I said before was true. No mage or adventurer has anything to worry about, if they keep their noses out of politics and other affairs that are of no concern to them. Adventurers harvesting Silbion or Elementium resources in dwarven ruins or ancient woodland groves that they alone can access are enough of a boon to the Dominion that we try to overlook their exasperating eccentricities. And for all that they are recently conquered, their minds are shielded by the magics animating their synthetic bodies, so their thoughts will offend no one. As long as they're not actively picking fights with Highlords, they have little to worry about."
She gave a pitying shake of her head. "You, on the other hand, are really here. Which means you can't parachute out, and your thoughts are bare for any Highlord to read."
“And you can read me perfectly. Doesn’t that make you a Highlord?"
Agneta flashed a bitter smile. "I'm a loyal soldier of the Dominion, valued for my skills, and like as not to escape censure or the arbitrary discipline of men in power who will ignore my transgressions, so long as I never directly oppose them." She sighed, leaning back. "It's an unspoken understanding. I never got involved in the deadly games of politics that doom so many clans. I never chose to duel for rank or prestige. I, like many of my kind, chose to serve the Dominion in ways other than seeking to claim a noble title. But my blood is noble. Do you understand, John? I am given an unusual measure of respect, and perhaps a faster track to rank and prestige than even a rich merchant's son would be, and no Highlord would think to challenge me, for all that once I was courted quite earnestly. Because it is understood that I am a threat to no one, that I am an asset to all, and that I will never offer or accept duels for rank or privilege."
“I think I understand,” John said. "You bowed out of the game, and other players respect you for not being a thorn in their side. If anything, it makes sense for them to offer comfortable alternatives to as many Psionicists as they can. Peaceful, productive citizens bettering their worlds are a hell of a lot more useful than dozens more Highlords contesting for limited resources because they're offered no alternative means of living their lives with a measure of respect or dignity."
He grinned as various truths suddenly clicked into place. "And the same is true for your sister, right? She's a talented mage, I’m guessing, considering her ability to gate me here. But she's made it adamantly clear that she's no Highmage, referring to herself only as the town mayor. Did she bow out of the games mages play, just like you deferred risking your neck in the games Highlords play?"
Agneta dipped her head. "You have good insights into the nature of things, John. That's a rarer trait than I'd like to admit." She flashed a gentle smile. "I think you'll have a lot to offer your future pride one day, so long as we can keep your head on your shoulders long enough for you to form one."
John blinked. "Pride?"
The captain nodded. "Assuming you adapt to our customs and mores, assuming you find prospective mates able to look past your strange gaze and see the noble heart beating within. But to get that far, we'll need to teach you the basics of warding your mind.
“I'm sure that given enough time, when you truly understand how terrible a strain this unnecessary struggle for succession has put on our planet, when you consider the tens of thousands already dead, and the hundreds of thousands that will perish before all is said on and done, you'll realize that youthful dreams of rebellion aren't worth the sea of grieving parents that will mourn their children's deaths for centuries to come. But until you've achieved that degree of maturity, best we shield your adolescent mind for those who would rush to judgment before realizing you're just a boy of 17 summers."
John winced, lowering his head, having no idea what to say to that.
"Good. Being flexible enough to realize that opposing truths can be simultaneously valid in the chart of our existence is a major part of what it means to be an adult. And now for your first lesson as an unclaimed child of noble blood. I want you to picture a castle in your mind's eye."
John frowned. A castle?
"Yes, John. Absolute focus is vital. You must visualize building each stone of your tower. It can be small to start with, perhaps the size of a hut, surrounding you on all sides. For some, it helps to see it as hardest granite. Others prefer the metaphor of darkest shadow, one's foes left lost and confused, trying to peer through utter darkness. Though of course, we are not Dauda."
She smiled at John's curious look. "Never you mind, John. Just pray that you never run into them. Now quit admiring my figure and focus on your Castling."
He flushed at her gentle laughter.
"Thank you for the compliment, though. It gives me hope that I might one day be chosen to form a pride again."
John blinked. "Why wouldn't you be?"
She flashed a sad smile. "I'm almost 200, John. Thank the goddess I still have my vigor, and not one gray hair mars my brow. My father's people are unusually long-lived, even for our kind. But it will be a few decades at most before age abruptly shows itself, and I will have no choice but to face the rejuvenation vats."
John blinked. "You're reluctant to become young again?"
“It’s complicated, John. But yes, I have reservations. Part of it
is my Southern heritage, and my sister's sentiments as well. To be fair, the vats could buy me many, many centuries. At least three safe rejuvenations, an extra 600 or more years all but guaranteed. But it takes a drastic toll on one's magic potential, even one's ability to connect with and truly feel a part of their environment." She chuckled softly. "Unlike my sister, I'm no mage, but even I know my connection with the forest is exceptional. Had I not sensed the disharmony in the woods around us and reacted in time, those horrors would have butchered us cold."
She gazed out the window, smiling fondly at the rustling trees some distance away. "When I'm in the forest, I feel a certain arboreal vitality filling me with vigor and well-being, even if it's never manifested itself as any spell. My sister recognizes it as well. In fact, I'm sure it's that vitality that's responsible for my never losing a child I carried, which is increasingly rare for female Jordians, especially those in the North."
John blinked, impressed. "But you look so young. Honestly, to me? You look incredible. If you don't mind me asking, how many children do you have?"
She grinned with a mother’s pride. "Four. And all of them happy and content, having reached their majority with lives blessed by fortune and love. They are as peaceful and good-natured as I could have hoped for, all of them bowing out of the deadly games that kill so many of our kind." Her gaze grew sad. "When my youngest made it clear he wanted to see the stars as a captain of his own starship and had no interest in entering the arena of Highlords alongside his father, Daniel did not hesitate to give him his blessing. And I will be forever grateful for the love he has shown all four of our children, even if he divorced me soon after, saying he needed a fighter for his heir."
John swallowed, sensing a sudden surge of hurt and regret, instantly hidden a heartbeat later.
Agneta chuckled ruefully. "I don't know why I'm sharing all this with you. Perhaps your eyes draw me in. Regardless, in just a few decades, I, too, will need to make use of the vats, and my connection to the land will wither. Perhaps it will remain in stunted form for a rejuvenation or two, but eventually, I will lose it all. And the ugly truth no Highlord admits to openly is that fertility is drastically reduced after the first rejuvenation. No matter that I had four healthy offspring in the time most Highladies have one, I will be passed over for younger, fresher maidens to join a Highlord's pride. And men of lesser blood, it grieves me to say, would forever be uncomfortable with anything save the briefest of dalliances, always afraid and unnerved by my ability to peer into their minds, to sense their secret thoughts, the vicious dark fantasies they keep in check, displaying for the world only the best sides of themselves." She gave a sad shake of her head. "As if I even cared. As if anything mattered more than a husband's love and their oath never to harm our pride."
Queen Killer Page 13
