Gabriel flicked his eyes to the main door searching for his father. “I am needed here.”
“They need a trained Mage, and while you know many patterns, you do not yet bestow the strength to handle the bigger ones. Castle Jaden will increase your endurance and your ability. The sooner you go, the sooner you return as a force to truly protect if needed.”
Gabriel bit his upper lip and gazed through the door at the faint outlines of servants milling forth. “Balien would be most cross if I endangered his sister.” He sighed as he debated inwardly until finally raising his eyes. “I will go with you.”
Dagan nodded. “I will make arrangements. We will leave at the end of the month.”
He strode off into the manor, and Gabriel followed. The maw of the manor drew him in. Inside the dark gray stone and warm polished wood were almost kin to him and the smell of books and tapestries their essence. The atrium echoed with far-off voices, the sounds of creaking leather from chest handles, and the scuff of boots on carpet mingling together. Gabriel’s room resided in the right wing, but the new sounds came from the left, so he shouldered a bundle from the large pile of luggage at the door and made his way upward.
While long, Urima Manor was not unusually tall. The first floor held the entertaining rooms, the second sleeping chambers, the third bore servant’s quarters, and the twin parapets made up the forth level of look-out rooms. It was shaped like a boxy “S”, with the courtyard in the front and a magnificent garden in the back. Cordis tended to all the plants and had a special love of everything growing.
Urima Manor had been his father’s since Gabriel’s birth, and Gabriel had known no other home. It was a remote place outside Hollow Downs and many days’ ride from the capital, which made it ideal for privacy. The closest neighbors were ten miles east, and the nearest main road skirted around them to avoid the forest. As far as Gabriel was concerned, the manor was the safest place to be. Of course, everyone knew Castle Jaden was safer with the thousands of wards and Mages to contend with.
Gabriel followed the feminine voices down the long hall, passing between the beams of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Each burst of light threw bright reflections of his white blouse against the walls. He squinted through each window, unable to avoid the beams. The plump woman had a unique, boisterous laugh, and he followed it to the threshold of a door where servants bustled by.
“Tea, Master Gabriel?” a woman asked as she glided up with a tray full of cups and dishes.
“No, Haddie, thank you.” She bowed her head and slipped inside.
The room was one of the finest Urima boasted, with rich furnishings, a large hearth, and enough space to dance. The older woman stood in the center pointing and instructing where things went as Cordis circled around her, insisting she should rest and stating supper would be ready soon. “Honestly, Professor, my cook has nearly lost her fingers twice chopping vegetables for this event.” The woman hardly cracked a smile as she twirled a servant around and pointed him towards the dressing chamber.
“Professor, where would you like this?” Gabriel asked as he walked in. She stopped to survey him with a calculating gaze and smiled with a pinched expression. Her old-fashioned, pressed garb and the absence of gilt other than the silver chain gave him the impression of a woman who rarely enjoyed herself and sought the solace of tradition.
“Lady Mage Aisling told me much of you, young man,” she said with a husky, respectable voice that offered no love. “It seems she did not do you justice.” She folded her arms, and the tension went out of the room as if she had sheathed weapons. “She informed me you were showing progress in the Element of Earth.”
He was not sure if it was a question, but he nodded, “Yes, Professor.”
“I hope it impresses me. We will be observing the Mages in depth as soon as we are settled, and you will make an excellent case study.”
He hid the uncomfortable sneer his lips tried to skew. “The package, Professor?”
“Ah, yes. It goes in the sitting room,” she said pointing down the little hall that adjoined the chambers. His relief was palpable as he exhaled obnoxiously. He pitied his father before pitying himself. ‘A case study?’
In the small sitting room, Gabriel found Haddie pouring tea for the golden-headed creature in gray. Robyn cast her eyes down at the table, looking like a bird with broken wings.
“I think I’ll have that tea, Haddie,” Gabriel whispered as he stepped in and set the package down. Robyn raised her eyes as he seated himself across from her in a handsomely worn crimson chair. The room smelled like parchment and old fabric, with the mellow aroma of cinnamon and apple from the tea. The servant quickly finished doctoring his tea the way he liked and slipped out.
Robyn picked her tea up holding his gaze as he reclined back in the chair, his long legs thrown out and crossed before him.
“You’re not happy to be here, are you?” he asked, though it was more a statement.
She screwed her lips as if humoring him and took a sip of her tea, casting her gaze outside the window. “You are rather stupid if you think I am.”
“I lost my own mother,” he stated, leaving his tea untouched. “I never knew her, or really anything of her. Father doesn’t speak of her, but I know the absence of a mother.”
Robyn’s lips thinned and trembled and hid them behind her tea cup. Gabriel once heard royalty never cried, and Balien proved so in the two years spent with them. Robyn lowered her cup to reveal a sturdy expression. “I am sure I will enjoy it here.”
“It’s boring. There’s not much to do besides grow things and learn histories.”
“I enjoy my histories,” she said, all trace of trembling emotion lost.
“Well I hope you enjoy Mage history. Because the frightening woman with the eagle stare informed me I am to be studied by you.”
“Is that all she told you? She told me she will send for a dancing instructor since I now have a partner. It is a shame you are not a Water Mage. It is said they are the most graceful.”
Gabriel pointed a finger on the armrest in protest. “I do not dance.”
She gave a childish laugh. “You will.” He would have argued but once again she was thoroughly in charge of the conversation. Instead he leaned forward and lifted his teacup from its saucer with a look of acquiescence. “Though, you may not have the chance. Mother sent me away for fear I would be killed. I might have been followed, and you would no longer have a dance partner.”
He stared at her befuddled. “That is a bleak attitude to have. You are safe here. There are two Classed Mages and I am not untrained myself. Are these dark thoughts something I will have to deal with for the next ten years, or is this a fleeting feeling?”
For a second the stern façade cracked with a snicker, and he saw her eyes sparkle. It seemed Balien had left out details about his younger sister. For a moment she appeared as the ten year old girl she was, not the royalty she had been shaped into. “I would like to see you plucked from your life and do better.”
Feeling accomplishment in breaking her mask, he smiled and nodded. “I doubt I could.”
Chapter 2
Robyn was not a girl to be trifled with or underestimated, though most people insisted on doing so because of her youth. Her tutors always treated her with a certain delicacy that taught her to despise them. It was no different in Urima Manor. It was not long before she learned Gabriel’s hiding places and vanished into the woodwork to avoid her lessons.
They usually sent Gabriel from his training to find her, but she was getting more stealthy and quieter as the weeks progressed until finally, Gabriel could not find her. She grinned as she watched his bemused face search the dark corners. It was only after he passed her that she stretched a hand out from behind the marble statue and rapped his shoulder.
“You missed me.”
He turned his surprised face to see her in the shadows. “Impressive. As reward for your winning, I will not tell them where I found you.” With a firm hand he gu
ided her back to her studies in the library. “You’re more like your brother than he let on,” he whispered before closing the oak door.
During her lessons of socialism, equalization, commerce, industry, needlepoint and party-giving, Robyn watched through the windows as the Mages practiced. Of the three Mages, Dagan moved with the most experience, though he was younger than Cordis. He was an interesting study since his motions were deliberate and connected. Though Robyn could see nothing of these patterns they spoke of, something only Mages could see, she saw the outcome of sprouted trees or crumpled rocks and bent branches. Cordis was amusing to watch, for he was serious when laying patterns, a character trait much unlike his usually jovial self. Gabriel seemed to be a mix of the two. Amusing in conversation, he became serious and fluid as he moved his hands to lay unseen threads, shifting his whole body in a dance only Mages understood. Sometimes they stomped their feet and shards of stone or clumps of dirt shot from beneath them. On other occasions they would throw out their hands and snap their wrists to create an explosion of blossoms from the poor tortured cherry trees. It was frightfully entertaining.
“Robyn, you are not listening,” Professor Magin stated one afternoon as they sat in the library. The sun painted yellow squares on the dark wood behind the Professor as she sat with a book in her hands. “Child, I expect you to listen when I lecture.”
“But I do not care about castles outside my kingdom,” Robyn replied with a weary tone.
“If you should listen to any lectures about profound structures, it should be this one. You have two—someday three—Mages who call Jaden their home, and it would be admirable of you to understand their culture. Tell me three things concerning Castle Jaden.”
Robyn crumpled her fingers together. She really had not been listening to the lecture, but sometimes Gabriel spoke of it. “Jaden is the smallest but the most powerful of kingdoms since it houses the Mages. Mages bred themselves out of High Classes after the Mage Wars made it acceptable to marry non-Mages.” She rolled her eyes up, trying to think of more. “The Castle has never been breached and is rumored to be the safest place on land.”
Magin glared at her. “You have been talking to Mage Cordis. I said none of those things. Now, listen this time. Castle Jaden was founded by Class Ten Cornel Jaden in 1555 when he purchased land from Eccoveria, what is now Anatoly. Jaden did not become its own kingdom until 2020 when the castle was completed….”
“I don’t want to learn of castles, Magin. I want to study the Mage Wars!”
“Don’t? Sweet stars, you have been talking to Cordis too much. Alas, he would be the man to speak with about the Mage Wars, but he is busy.” She nodded her head outside and Robyn followed with a longing gaze.
Father and son stood with their backs to her. Dagan walked up with an open book, speaking words she could not hear and gesturing to sketches on the pages. Robyn had seen many books with sketches in their library that showed how patterns were laid and how the body moved to manipulate them. Dagan set the book on a stone table and made several large-armed gestures before stopping and shaking his head. The earth gave a slight tremble as he moved, and Robyn braced for excitement only to be disappointed.
Cordis pointed to the book as Gabriel folded his arms, speaking for a few moments. Gabriel shrugged and nodded before unlinking his arms.
“Robyn.” Magin stated.
“Wait,” she whispered, sensing entertainment on the horizon.
Gabriel took a defensive stance, and with great care and seriousness, laid the unseen pattern. Dagan and Cordis backed up as he worked, and with each step their faces grew more surprised.
“Robyn.”
Gabriel moved his arms in circular motions, stopping and drawing his hand back twice as if pulling something. She watched with rapt attention, ignoring Magin as he slightly bent in the knees. Suddenly the earth gave a tremendous roar and sprang up around him in a circular dome that swallowed him. The top of the dome twisted soil, grass, roots and stones together in a grinding mass that slowed and stopped. Robyn found herself on her feet squealing with excitement as her eyes flicked to the Mages and the dome. Cordis and Dagan stood with limp arms and open faces, staring at the place where Gabriel had been swallowed up.
Slowly, the earth began to shrink back to the garden to reveal a whole and hale Gabriel in the center, his arms level with his waist as he pushed the earth back down. His hair and shoulders were dusty but he was unharmed, and with a quick shake of his hair he looked normal once more.
Cordis and Dagan exploded in excited tones, closing the gap as they gestured and pointed, unsteady on their feet. Gabriel seemed to brighten at their congratulations and smiled. Cordis grabbed the book and pointed to a picture before shifting back a page, then stopped and gaped at Dagan. ‘Eight,’ he mouthed. That much Robyn could tell.
“What does Mage Cordis mean by eight?” Robyn asked, turning to Magin.
“Did you not see?” Magin posed. “Mage Dagan is a Class Six and failed when attempting the pattern, but Gabriel succeeded. There are a thousand patterns only certain Classes can perform and fuel properly. Many have been lost to the Ages as Mages bred themselves out. It seems young Master Gabriel has succeeded in a pattern made for Class Eights.”
“This is fantastic,” Robyn breathed. “How many Class Eights are left?”
Magin smirked, then the smirk slipped as she realized the question was seriously asked. “There are none. And there are no Class Sevens either. The highest Class attainable for hundreds of years has been a Class Six, and even those are dwindling.”
“Then this truly is fantastic,” Robyn whispered and looked back outside to the men in their revelry. “When did the Classes start dying off?”
“Back in the Third Age after the Mage Wars. As you rightly stated, the Mages were given permission to intermarry which began watering-down their long bloodlines. With every generation they grow a little weaker. First the Class Tens vanished, soon followed by Class Nines. By the time the more powerful houses tried to instate new rules to riposte the old laws, it was too late to rebuild the bloodlines, and finally the Class Eights vanished. This took over a thousand years mind you; it did not happen in a generation.” Magin closed the book on her lap with a pleased look. “If Master Gabriel does prove to be powerful, it will mean great things for their race.”
“But his father is only a Class Five. Who is his mother?”
Magin gave a shrug. “No one knows. It has been a secret of the Lenis line since Gabriel’s birth.”
“But you said yourself the highest Class attainable now is Class Six, so how could a Class Five produce an Eight?”
Magin chuckled. “That is a question for Mage Cordis, but I have read of Anomalies, Mages born of strange talents in desperate times. Though, for years there have been rumors of secluded groups of Mages that never dwindled. Perhaps our Master Gabriel’s mother truly is powerful.”
Robyn watched the men retreat to the manor and heard their faint carousing voices down the hall. She wished they would come share their excitement, but they faded away and left her to her studies without escape.
It was not until the sun touched the tips of the Gray Mountains that Magin let her go. She walk off in dignified fashion to find the Mages, wishing she could run but that was unladylike. Cordis had a favorite study tucked back in a corner where he usually spent his quiet days, and as she suspected, she found the men within talking in joyous tones.
The room was plastered with dark wood panels and shelves which sat dozens of books and trinkets. Each had a story she did not know. The furniture was old and lovingly worn, made of a faint blue canvas matched with yellow cord trim and leather pillows. It smelled of dust, leather, and cigar smoke with another scent she could only describe as man.
Gabriel sat in a chaise with a leg propped up over it, leaning into the corner with a goblet dangling from his fingertips. Dagan sat in the bay window in a relaxed fashion, his back not so straight, his shoulders loosened, and his coat folded aside leavi
ng him in his shirtsleeves. Cordis sat with his back to her and turned as she entered. He was beaming and red in the cheeks, likely a result of the goblet of ale perched on his thigh. “Roby!” he exclaimed as she stepped in. “Did you see it?”
Robyn rounded his chair to address him to his face. “I did,” she nodded. “It was explained to me that it was a grand achievement.”
“Grand is an excellent word for it! Come, sit with me,” he beckoned. He set his goblet aside and lifted her by the waist to sit on his thighs as he had on several occasions. Being dawdled like a child was not something princesses did, but she found herself yearning for the embrace of a father-like figure. Her own father died nearly eight years beforehand.
“You witnessed a remarkable thing,” Cordis beamed. “And it will be beneficial for you in the future. The stronger a Mage you have to protect you, the better. Within five years Gabriel will have a proper Class to his name and will be able to take the title of protector from me.”
Robyn felt her heart quicken. “Where are you going?” she asked in a shrill tone.
“Nowhere, of course, but the stronger a Mage to stand by your side the safer you will be.”
“Your parents would appreciate it,” Dagan said before taking a sip of wine. The servants in the manor had been told she was the daughter of rich ship builders from Iosberg who came under threat from the Shalabane, the land-grubbing, ever-invading country across the ocean. The three men in the room kept the ruse alive at all hours.
The Castrofax (Book 1) Page 2
