“Autumn,” Ryker whispered and drew in a fresh breath. In the moonlight he looked ghastly pale and wan, his skin paper-thin. “Go on, Princeling.”
He vanished in a twist of blackness leaving Nolen to gather his surroundings. He heeled Shibaler east and wondered, ‘What will be worse, finding a rumored legend Class Ten, or releasing one?’
Chapter 6
Secondhand Lael of Castle Jaden had a strong reputation for being the model of calm, which was ideal for a man in a tremulous position. Handling the Head Mage’s schedules, the Council’s positions, and Jaden’s affairs were arduous and required a great deal of multitasking. But Lael managed them all and was often the face of Jaden when the Head Mage was occupied elsewhere. Lael was most often behind his desk with a stack of papers or an open book which he read in his down time. He obtained a reputation for knowing everything though that was far from the truth.
This was one of the few times in his career, that instead of bedding down with a tome, he ran through the halls of Jaden as if fire was on his tail. ‘Fire would be better,’ he thought, skidding around a corner and slammed against a banister. There were footfalls behind him, but he was not being chased. He took the stairs two at a time, thankful for his youth. In all his days as Secondhand, he could never remember a moment of such urgency.
The ring around his middle finger had sent a jolt of warm pain up his arm as he slept, lurching him into the waking world, for somewhere a ward tripped. He wore more than one ring, and it took him a moment to sort through which ring pulsed an alert.
Lael burst through the doors to the Head Mage’s quarters. The large oval anteroom branched into two separate apartments and he headed towards the right, pushing through the door that led to a wide hall. He dashed through the long study, snatching a flame from the smoldering coals in the hearth, but Casimir was already awake in the study as he tied a robe around his waist.
“I felt it pull,” he said quickly. “Who attempted it?”
“No attempt. Ryker Slade is gone,” Lael said breathlessly. “The guards are dead. I just went down, and Ryker is gone.”
The Head Mage took the news with the calm dignity his office required. “Who else knows?”
“Councilman Galloway.” Lael bent a little at the waist to breathe easier.
“Assemble the Council at once. Tell no one else, or there will be mass panic. Do we have enough Class Sixes to sidestep?”
“Not in the castle.”
“Then send a rider to Lady Aisling and Queen Challis—I do not trust a pigeon with this information. Have someone bring Councilwoman Selene and Councilman Kieran in.” Casimir gripped the edge of a small writing desk in the corner and sank into the accompanying chair. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“Lock up the gates. Admit and release no one until we can attain more information.”
“People will suspect something is amiss.”
“Yes, but they will have to be content for the time. We cannot keep a secret like this for long, and the sooner we can welcome Mages here for their safety, the better.”
‘Provided Ryker is not still within our walls,’ Lael thought, knowing the Head Mage thought the same. Once people learned of the Arch Mage’s release, Mages would flock to the castle for protection. It was the safest place in the continent—unless Ryker was still within the walls.
“Casimir, what do we do if he attacks?” Lael asked his voice just above a whisper.
The Head Mage shook his head and smoothed back his white hair. “I have said it once, and I will say it again: I need Mage Gabriel here with me. I have no time to spare, and I need him here all the more now. He is all we have to hold Ryker off.”
Casimir had been searching for the boy for months now. “Yes, but Ryker is legendary for being powerful, and he has years more experience than Gabriel.”
Casimir shook. “What gave Ryker his power were his elite four Arch Mages and the fear they brought with them. Strip that all away, and he is still just a man.”
“A man unusually powerful for his time,” Lael inserted as Casimir strode to his dressing room. “No one knows where Mage Gabriel is. Last word was he vanished after his father died.”
“Mage Cordis went missing,” Casimir corrected. “I do not know Mage Gabriel’s location, but Aisling may have remembered something since last we spoke. Send her a pigeon and ask for anything she may offer.”
“If we were to get word out of Ryker Slade’s awakening, Gabriel may come to us.”
With a gaze of reckoning, Casimir met his Secondhand’s eyes. “Let us do precisely that.”
Chapter 7
Gabriel sat across from Robyn at a table in their back yard, basking in the afternoon sun with a mug of cold ale in one hand and a black tile in the other. Robyn peered at the black and white tiles before them, twirling one in her hand that was black on one side and white on the other. It was an old game of chance and strategy called Divided Kingdoms, or more simply Tiles. Two players built a kingdom of black or white tiles, each with lines or circles that interlocked with other pieces. While Robyn played as the white kingdom, she could play a white tile on Gabriel’s black side and mess up his strategy. The two kingdoms of black and white interlocked in the center, and black was slowly gaining ground on her.
Robyn put a white piece with a right-angle line on it next to the ‘wall’ he was building. His direction cut off, he gave a low huff. She was very good at the game; as well as she should be if she wanted to be a good Queen.
Robyn drew a new tile from the box and turned it over in her hand. She swirled her tea with the other, a habit she did subconsciously. Gabriel placed a black tile trying to gain some ground.
“You are going to lose,” she said slowly, eyeing the board as she held the tile delicately between her thumb and index finger. “You’re too focused on expanding and not defending.”
“I do it my way; you do it yours,” he replied and swigged his ale.
“That is why you lose.”
He looked at the tiles again. The game ended when tiles ran out or when the player could no longer place one. The rules said tiles must be placed in sequences of forward then back, except when a tile was placed on the opponent’s board. She pointed to the piece in his hand.
“You have to put that in a forward position, and you have none.”
He grimaced. The last piece he played was on her kingdom, and rules said he had to now play on his own, but as she so correctly pointed out, he was out of spaces. He conceded and leaned back in his chair. “What would you ask of me now?”
She put a slender finger on her lip and looked up as if thinking, but he knew she already had a question. Since they never played the game for money, they decided long ago the winner would be allowed to ask one question, and the loser had to answer truthfully. ‘A right dangerous game,’ Gabriel thought.
“I can’t decide,” she sighed and tapped the finger. He knew this ploy too. She would play sweet and innocent, and he would let her ask two questions.
“The eve is young. I am sure you’ll win another round,” he replied with a grin. She hid her disappointment well, being one to usually have her way.
“How many maidens have you kissed?”
Gabriel choked on his drink and wiped his mouth with a sleeve. “What kind of a question is that?”
“Ha!” she exclaimed and pointed a finger at him. “Answer it!”
He brushed off the front of his shirt. “Look what you made me do.”
“Answer it, or I get to ask another question.”
“Three,” he replied. “Each one prettier than you.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she grinned. Without a word she collected the tiles, leaving the two red starter tiles, and put them back in the box. They began again, each tile carefully laid. He felt Robyn’s eyes on him as he thumbed a piece, planning his next move. He knew she wanted something more.
“When I win this round, I want to hear the story of when you received your Class.”
He smiled. “If you win, and you’ve heard the story before.”
“Yes, but not in years. I heard bits of it when you returned, but that was nearly four years ago.”
“When I win, I will answer your question if you give me a massage,” he said and flexed his fingers.
“Then I will let you win,” she quipped and put another piece on his side to form a road.
They played until the pieces ran out and tallied up the points: two for every finished castle, one for every road, army, settlement, forest, lake, and river larger than four tiles, and an extra two for every wall surrounding a castle. He won.
She stretched out her hands. “What will it be today?”
He rotated a wrist at her. “Hands to the shoulders.”
She nodded and gestured him to take his shirt off. He did gladly and draped it over his leg. Moving her chair she took up one of his hands and began working on it. Before Gabriel turned sixteen, Mage Dagan whisked him off to Castle Jaden. They expected his training to be no more than two years, but three years later Gabriel returned with thousands of patterns in his memory and left a physical toll on his body. The constant use of his hands left him stiff. If not loosened every few weeks, the strength of the Elements often knotted up his muscles. Robyn’s handler Beatrice taught the Princess everything she could about the body. When Gabriel returned from Castle Jaden, a Spirit Mage accompanied him. After Lady Beatrice accosted her in the hall and pleaded for her information, the older Spirit Mage taught Robyn the skills of massage.
She held his wrist in one hand and ran her thumb over his forearm, twisting the arm to get around his elbow. The muscles were tight, unwilling to release, but after enough passes they loosened. He winced every now and then.
“The story,” she prompted. “And with details this time.”
“Right, let’s see. It was four days before my twentieth birth anniversary….”
A Mage prepared for their Classing as soon as they came into their Elements. It was usually after puberty, and it was never taken lightly. Once given by the Mage Council, a Class could never be changed. Their training was usually kept quiet to prevent bias, but the Council was full of intelligent men and women. They were not blind and usually knew a story or two before Classing the Mage, some having trained the Selects themselves. A Mage-Select spent years training and studying at Castle Jaden to absorb all the patterns they could to display their skills.
Gabriel traveled alone to Jaden, a two-day trip on a fast horse. His old Earth teacher Mage Dagan had been given a Council seat years before. Other than he, Gabriel did not know if the Council knew his full potential. It was important that each Mage-Select come to the Council unblemished and unbiased as to not sway the vote.
On the day of his Classing, he dressed in a pressed white shirt, a handsome black vest, long black trousers, and simple canvas shoes. Mage Aisling met him at his door. He knew her well, having seen her several times in his childhood and, and spending much time with her when he trained in Jaden. She was a noble woman if ever there was one, and she had a lovely calm energy about her.
She wore a fine high-necked dress of white suede and blue velvet. Her hair pulled up in her signature twist, and she gave him a warm smile. They spoke as she led him to the testing room, explaining what to expect.
“Be yourself,” she told him giving his arm a thoughtful squeeze, and she slipped through the doors to take her Council seat.
The doors opened with an Air pattern minutes later, and he stepped into the large circular room. Lit torches lined the walls, two water fountains bubbled to his sides, and numerous potted trees and plants stretched out their energy to his senses. The room had a large hole in the roof to give access to the winds, and the Council willingly let the Mage-Selects use their energy for Spirit manipulation.
In the center of the room the ten Council Members and the Head Mage sat at a large oval stone table. Head Mage Casimir Brynmor was a kindly older man with a tightly-trimmed beard and full head of white hair. The smile lines around his eyes placed him well into his sixties, but his youthful personality made him seem younger. He draped in the white Mage cloak reserved only for Head Mages and bore two thin white ribbons around his forehead, symbolizing the narrow path of the leader of Mages. He stood and gestured for Gabriel to stand at the opposite end of the table.
“Welcome, Gabriel Lenis,” Casimir greeted with a calm voice. “You come to us today a Mage-Select, but you will leave with the title of Mage and a Class that befits you.”
He pointed to the man on his right, a Class Five Fire Mage and Secondhand of Jaden, Lael. He was a man in his mid-thirties with brown hair slicked back with oil, narrow blue eyes, a straight jaw, and dark thin lips that were almost considered pretty for a man.
“It is a pleasure to have you with us today,” Lael said, a line that was undoubtedly rehearsed but sounded sincere.
To the Head Mage’s left sat a beautiful woman in a blue gown that hung off her shoulders. Her brown hair was unnaturally curled and fell over one shoulder. Her bright eyes fixed on Gabriel as her lips toyed a smile. Gabriel recognized her as well. Having seen her only once, her reputation as Queen Challis of Cinibar preceded her. Cinibar shared its northern border with Anatoly, and the kingdoms had allied longer than anyone could remember. Queen Challis was also a Class Five Water Mage and must have been quite a magnificent woman to be Queen and Council Member. She sat as the Head Mage’s scribe, his unofficial left-hand.
“I am delighted to finally meet you face to face,” she said with a deep, soothing voice.
The Head Mage took a moment to introduce the others, names Gabriel forgot but for a few, recognizing only Dagan and Aisling. Of them, there were only two with Classes above Five, and only two that wielded more than one Element. They all gave him polite smiles and greetings, dressed in fine garments befitting their status.
Casimir took his seat. “Please begin when you are comfortable, and I will tell you when to finish.”
Gabriel began with Earth, pulling green strings from his chest. He displayed speed at first, causing the plants to creep up the walls and drawing them back to their planters. To show accuracy he grew a cherry tree in the center of the table. It bloomed and dropped its petals. Before they could touch the ground, he killed and crumpled them, turning them into dust. He pulled around one arm and displayed a hardening cocoon-pattern. Letting the dust fall, he laid a Harlon-shot pattern and flung hardened balls of earth around the room with each stamp of his foot. There were other patterns he could not display to their full extent, some would cause the earth to ripple or stones to roll, but he gave a small taste to show he knew them.
Casimir called for halt. “You have excellent control. Is there anything else you have for us to consider?”
“Yes, sir, there is,” Gabriel answered, and to the great astonishment of the Council, he pulled blue threads from his chest, identifying him as a Water Mage. He drew from the clouds rolling outside and made it rain, catching the water before it landed on the Council but letting it fall on himself. He used a sapping-pattern to pull the water from his clothes and froze it into a spike on his arm. Slamming his arm into the table, the spike shattered shards into the air. He evaporated the flying shards before they could hit anyone. With permission he drew water from someone’s body, and returned it through the skin. He formed a small wave that ran around the room to sweep the floor and used a percolation-pattern to filter the water. He demonstrated a small cyclone and shot jets and ice balls before Casimir called for halt.
The Head Mage looked pleased, and the Queen to his left did nothing to hide her pretty smile. “I see you take after your father,” Casimir nodded.
Queen Challis straightened a little. “Could you show us a Harrian-block pattern?” Gabriel acquiesced, laying the pattern that froze the surface of water. “Do you know the temperate-pattern?” Again Gabriel wove the proper lines to prove he knew his material.
“Excellent,” Casimir nodded. “If you will please leave us, you will b
e presented with your Class later.”
“Thank you, Head Mage, but I am afraid I am not finished.” Gabriel said with a slight bow of his head. The room fell silent, embarrassed that Gabriel had either not understood his place or did not know the procedures.
The Head Mage hid any irritation he may have felt. “Was there another pattern you wanted to show us?”
“No, my lord, not a pattern,” Gabriel smiled.
Before the Council could process his words, he threw out his hand with a blue Water pattern and doused the flames of the torches on the walls, casting the room in darkness.
“Can it be?” a young woman whispered to his left.
He snapped his thumb and middle finger together, and from his digits a flame sprung before his face. A man at the table gasped, and Lael visibly gaped, but Gabriel only smiled. In his lifetime no Mage wielded three Elements, and he knew the amazement going through the Council’s heads. It was enough to make his pride swell.
He let the flame spread over his body, incasing him in a fire that would never burn. He changed the flames from orange to blue, and shot them from his body before drawing them back in. While Earth was a solid Element that often involved using legs and feet in patterns, and Water required graceful arm and torso movements, Fire was a powerful Element that involved jarring movements of the arms and sharp jerks of the hands and torso.
He created a fire-whip and threw it around him. He stopped things from burning and charred other objects to unrecognizable shapes. Before Casimir called for cease Gabriel created small butterflies of fire that fluttered to the extinguished torches and relit them.
Casimir turned to Lael, the foremost expert in Fire, and waited for the man to regain his senses.
“Uh…stars,” Lael muttered and straightened, adjusting his coat. “Could I see that fire-starter pattern again? I never thought I would see it in my lifetime.”
Gabriel laid the small pattern of only two red strings in both hands and snapped them to life. “Do you know the deflection-pattern?” Lael asked and drew from the flames in Gabriel’s hands, forming a small ball of fire. He tossed it at Gabriel who easily pushed it aside. Lael gave a nod. “I…I have no more questions,” he laughed.
The Castrofax (Book 1) Page 7
