Lighter Days, Darker Nights (Rune Breaker)
Page 22
Tolere chuckled. “Yes, but beyond the gold he sends to keep the coffers topped up, Crossius hasn't been on this island for more than twice as long as you've lived.”
“That's just what he said, Master.” said the boy with the wide-eyed expression of a child desperately trying to relate their side of the story before punishment. “He said it's been nigh on twenty years, and that I should run and tell you he was coming.”
“Who told you this?” Tolere asked, resisting the urge to heave a sigh.
“Why Lord Crossius, Master. He said he'd be here in an hour.”
Tolere gaped like a fish on the deck of a ship for a long moment. It couldn't be! After two decades of efficiency and bliss, it was all just going to be torn from him again? He's gotten used to the life of an autonomous steward, and now he was expected to return to the life of a servant?
He suddenly knew what he needed to do that day: drink. There was half a bottle of the local brandy in his desk. Like a flash, he went for it, half-shouting to the boy to order the household staff to assemble for presentation in the receiving hall before diving into the fermented salve for his soon to be battered pride.
***
Mon Sulus Kime was a meritocracy that judged its members on their accomplishments in spellcraft with very complex and strict views on what types of spellcraft had merit. But even in the unusual system of hierarchy that existed in the Kimean Isles, an aristocrat was an aristocrat, and Lord Crossius lived up to expectations by arriving two hours after his underlings were all expected to be ready for him.
The household staff was arrayed in neat ranks according to their station in the receiving hall when the retinue finally arrived.
Tolere watched their arrival with trepidation and more bitterness than was healthy, but managed to maintain his best posture. He was front and center as the main doors were opened. Storm winds rudely preceded the lord, lashing the servants nearest the doors with cold rain. Just behind it came the oddly small procession of Nhan Raduul's long absent master.
Lord Ienstadt Crossius entered without a herald to announce him. Tall and thin, he looked much like Tolere remembered him from years ago; the same weak jaw and narrow nose, the same pale skin, and impassive, unchanging expression. His taste of clothing still hadn't changed either. In place of the light, close fitting style preferred in the hotter climes of the islands, Crossius wore extravagant robes in the style of Mindeforme. The only sign that time held any sway over him was the silver that now colored his normally black hair.
He, of course, was as dry as a desert at noon, thanks no doubt to the spell that hovered above him, occasionally flashing a translucent red and revealing a shape not unlike an enormous jellyfish when the gusting wind drove rain in his direction.
Also with him was his bride, the Lady Milfine. In all his years serving the couple, Tolere couldn't recall ever seeing her face. Like her husband, she adopted the robes of Mindforme, but she also supplemented it with a hood that covered all but her eyes; and a veil that covered those. It was a practice she claimed was from Callen, but Tolere had never heard of such a thing.
She stood in the protection of the barrier, alongside a new face in the Lord's company: a young woman.
This one was dressed expensively, but in a practical manner: a fitted shirt, dyed dark blue with ivory toggles, heavy trousers of the same color, tied together with a white satin sash, and a spider-silk cloak in white. Her hair was golden, the color storybooks gave to princesses, but she kept it in a utilitarian ponytail held in place by metal decorations of some sort. On her shoulder perched a fantastic specimen of tropical bird; a green, blue and yellow creature whose long tail trailed down the woman's back.
Behind them came porters, hauling the usual array of chests and oilcloth wrapped packages. Four young men were also carrying something concealed by a tarp and supported between metal poles. By the care they took with it, Tolere was certain they had either been bribed or threatened in regard to its handling.
At his signal, the whole of the household genuflected to their lord as a sign of respect.
Crossius drew up short as if he originally intended to walk right through without stopping. Soon however, one thin eyebrow raised and he gestured out of hand. “Rise.”
The servants slowly did as told. Tolere scrambled to standing and hurried forward like an eager dog. It was humiliating, but that was life in the Kimean Isles.
“My lord! We are most grateful that the day has finally come for you to return to us.” He stopped a respectful distance away, “As you directed, I have acted as steward in your absence and I dearly hope that you are happy with what I've done these past few years.”
“It will do.” said Crossius, then he stepped to one side and indicated the young woman. “This is my ward, acquired during my travels; Layaka Emeries-Partha. Her word is to be considered my own.”
Layaka nodded once and went back to openly leering at one of the maids.
Tolere made silent note of that. In any other nation, that look might merely indicate dalliances with the help. In the Kimean Isles, it was just as likely the precursor to the maid becoming a test subject for some new spell that might turn her into a monster, or leave her in agony. He knew everyone who worked in the keep, and resolved to schedule things so that this Layaka person couldn't arrange any unfortunate accidents or false criminal accusations for the young woman.
Crossius continued. “I trust the keep's garrison is still manned and operational?”
“Of course, my Lord. Three dozen highly trained soldiers, backed by a corps of six military magi.”
“Excellent. Order them to prepare to be reinforced. I will be bringing mercenaries onto the island via the teleportation array over the next several days. Have them on high alert: while I do this, the island will be vulnerable to scrying and enemy teleportation. Oh. And do you still remember the operation of the keep's magical defenses?”
Tolere stared blankly, his mouth working on automatic. “Yes, my lord. A-are we at war?”
“Good. Train three people you can trust in their operation and activate everything.” Lord Crossius's face remained just as impassive as ever as he spoke, like a mask. “And oh yes, war is coming. A power beyond the scope of your imagination is being brought to bear on this island.”
Before Tolere could speak, Crossius was off and moving again, heading toward the central spiral staircase that serviced the keep. Along the way, he turned and pointed to the men carrying the tarp covered thing. “You. Come with me. I need to find a safe place for that.”
Milfine followed after with Layaka not far behind. As she moved forward with a grace that seemed akin to floating, there was a faint scraping of clay over the stone floor. “'A great power is being brought to bear on this island'” She echoed sarcastically once they were out of earshot of the servants.
“In no way is that a lie.” Crossius replied. “I only neglected to mention that 'here' is exactly where I want that power to come.”
Also by Landon Porter
Rune Breaker
A Girl and Her Monster
Lighter Days, Darker Nights
The Path of Destruction
Evil Unto Evil (Coming Soon)
The Descendants
Collection 1: We Could Be Heroes
Collection 2: Tome Attacks
The Complete Volume 1 (Coming Soon)
About the Author
Landon Porter is a proud geek who enjoys comic books, roleplaying, and gaming. He knows a d20 from 2d10, the Konami Code and why Pi Day is March 14. A fan of all things Fantasy and Sci-Fi, he's been writing about them on the web since 2002 and has been telling stories since before he could write at all.
If you would like to be alerted about new releases and projects by Landon Porter, sign up for his free newsletter, or follow him on Twitter @ParadoxOmni Also, check out descendantsserial.com for more work from Landon Porter.
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