Bloodmines
Volume Three of
The Blue Dragon's Geas
by
Cheryl Matthynssens
Copyright © 2014 Cheryl Matthynssens
All rights reserved.
ISBN:1505863449
ISBN-13:978-1505863444
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to give special acknowledgment to Katherine Roos and Alex Hunt, my editors, as they contributed a lot of suggestions and questions that helped this novel to flush out and kept me going throughout Chemotherapy and its side effects.
Also to Heather Scoggins that labors over my cover art to make it fit the feel and tone of the book. I love her rendition of Keensight on this cover. You can find more of her work at:
ursatomic.deviantart.com
I also wish to acknowledge my readers. It is through your feedback on my Blog, Goodreads and Amazon that I have been able to improve my storyline and writing skills.
Independent writers rely on word of mouth and reviews by you, our faithful readers. We do not have a large publishing company promoting our work. It is all by word of mouth and social media work that our names are known at all. Please support Independent Authors by posting your reviews. I welcome all review be they negative or positive. It helps me refine my skills and take a look at sections of my work from a different perspective.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Chapter One
“The Trench Lord has arrived, High Minister. Should I show him in?” The servant bowed low then waited for the High Minister, Luthian Guldalian, to respond. His hands were clasped behind him, knowing that more words would be met with irritation at best, or punishment, if he was less lucky.
Luthian considered carefully how to approach the Trench Lord, Aorun, on the matter of his missing nephew, Alador. The man had not hidden his distaste that Luthian’s nephew was a half-breed. “Yes, send him in, and bring a tray of sweets and cheeses,” he answered, his back to the servant.
“As you command, my lord…” The servant left swiftly, silently shutting the door behind him.
Luthian drained his cup and eyed the failing light outside. The mist swirled in gauzy, dancing curtains, muting both the lights and sounds of the city below. He moved back to his large, wooden desk and set his wine glass down. He shuffled through the parchment notes as he slipped back into his chair.
Luthian knew he was missing something, but he was not sure what. How did a half-Daezun just disappear in a city full of guards? He glanced outside at the swirling mists and back to the reports. It was but one of the issues he would need to discuss with Aorun. The room had taken on a chill from the insidious dampness of misty sea air. Luthian waved his hand casually to the fire place and the fire roared up in response.
There was also the matter of the breeding stable that he needed to address with the Trench Lord. Someone had killed the Stablemaster, and he had conflicting information as to who was responsible. Some of those reports indicated that the men were Aorun’s; but the Trench Lord had earned a great number of slips supporting the stable. It did not make sense that he would destroy a consistent source of income.
When the door opened and a man was shown in, Luthian rose in confusion. It was not Aorun, but his right hand, Sordith. “What is the meaning of this?” The outrage in Luthian’s voice was palpable. “I sent for the Trench Lord. He does not deign to answer a summons now?”
“And so you have him." Sordith gave a dramatic bow and rose with a hint of flourish. “Aorun is dead,” he said, his manner flamboyant, and his tone holding no remorse.
The High Minister blinked a few times. He knew little about Sordith. Aorun had commented on the man’s brilliance when dealing with matters of business. In his simple statement, Luthian recognized that he had to be both intelligent and deadly. Aorun had been a highly skilled swordsman...
He eyed the man. Sordith was simply dressed in black and gray: hardly an outfit of status, and yet, as Luthian rested a studied eye on the other man, he noted that the material and work were exquisite.
Luthian slowly sat down and indicated a chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Please sit.”
Sordith slipped gracefully into the chair. “You have a need that the trench has not met, Minister?” Sordith crossed his arms over his chest.
“I have…” he corrected his verbiage, “...had many matters to discuss with Aorun." He eyed Sordith, the assessment in his gaze not hidden.
Sordith smiled. “Then let us discuss them. There were few matters of Aorun’s that I was not completely privy to."
Luthian frowned. He would not give an ounce of trust to this rogue with the easy, charming smile. He had learned long ago that a man with a charming voice and easy smile often had much to hide, especially since that smile did not reach the new Trench Lord’s eyes.
“Let us start with the stables. I have reports that Aorun was responsible for the death of the Stablemaster and the loss of many of my breeders." Bluntness, even to the point of crudeness, Luthian decided, might rock the other man’s too-relaxed composure.
Sordith sat back with that easy manner, his elbows rested on the armrests as he tapped his fingers together. “Alas this is true,” he said. “Aorun had become increasingly unstable in his last few weeks. His fixation on the destruction of your nephew became…” - Sordith paused looking for the right word - “…an obsession; and with it, he adopted a total disregard for the duties of his station. When he learned that your nephew had been accepted into the stable with open arms, I fear he flew into a rage and ordered the death of the Stablemaster." His eyes met Luthian’s evenly.
Luthian picked up his glass and stood to move to the wine decanter. “I see,” he said as he filled the glass. He hadn’t known Alador had visited the stable. The dates did line up with the evening that Alador had been stabbed from behind.
Luthian stared into the wine glass, lightly swirling the contents. Had Aorun tried to kill Alador that night, before he went to the stable? Realizing a heavy silence had filtered into the room, he turned. Keeping his eyes on Sordith, he moved to his chair and softly broke the silence. “I had considered the man more reliable than that,” he admitted.
“I do not think any Trench Lord is completely sane - a consequence of the position..." He winked at Luthian, his manner still light.
“What of you?” Luthian asked with no trace of an answering smile. Luthian did not like things being wrested from his control; this necessitated a shift in his planning that he had not anticipated.
“Oh, I am hardly sane. It is what makes me so efficient. Those around me never know what I am capable of doing." A note of seriousness crept into Sordith’s voice. “And before you consider removing me from the position, do your research. There is currently no one nearly as capable as myself. Remove the pan and you may find yourself in a fire that could consume a considerable section of the city.” Sordith was issuing a warning, of that there was no doubt.
Luthian sat back in his chair, his hands steepled before him. “How did Aorun die?” he asked, suddenly shifting the conversation.
The direct question brought a frown to Sordith’s face. He took a moment to consider his wording. “He fell upon a dagger and drowned. Which action actually caused his death is debatable.” A deadly tone crept into his words.
“In the back then…" Luthian looked disappointed.
The Trench Lord rose to his feet. “How dare you insinuate such a thing. He saw the blow coming all right, and had time to get in one or two of his own."
“Sit, Sordith,” Luthian commanded, waving at the man to sit down. Wh
en the other man did not sit, the High Minister added softly. “I apologize for the slight. I have another two matters that need your direct attention."
Sordith appeared slightly mollified and sank slowly into the chair. Luthian realized that if his words were true, this was a man with some notion of honor. His offense had appeared genuine. Luthian watched him before speaking further, weighing again how to approach his concerns.
“My nephew is missing. He left the caverns with another guardsman, and neither has returned. It is imperative that I locate him." Luthian frowned. “The only thing I can think of is that they left through the trench gate. I know you keep track of comings and goings; has there been any word of Alador Guldalian?”
Sordith crossed his arms and frowned. “I am hardly your babysitter, Lord Minister," he snapped sarcastically.
Luthian’s eyes narrowed. “You are trying my temper, Sordith. Do not forget that the Trench Lord still answers to The Council, and therefore, to me.” Luthian’s low growl had been meant to intimidate, but he noted that it had not shaken the man at all. “I am not asking you to watch him; I am asking you for information on his movements out of the city, which is a function of your office.”
Sordith smirked at the noble. “Well, then, let me please you. Your nephew is not missing. He is in my protective custody.” Sordith leaned back, arms crossed. That easy, roguish smile and the smooth manner were gone, and for the first time Luthian saw the real man.
“In your custody…?” Luthian blinked a few times in genuine surprise. “Just why is he in your custody?”
“Aorun had him. I had not planned to remove Aorun yet, but the man forced my hand. I found your nephew strung up like a fresh prang, and Aorun had been at him for a while. He was near death when I finally got him down.” Sordith’s tone was factual. His arms remained crossed as he eyed the powerful man in front of him.
“Release him to me; I will see he gets proper care.” Luthian’s face showed actual concern. His mind was racing. Aorun had not only made an attempt on his nephew’s life; he had been torturing him. He had thought the man smarter than that.
“No." Sordith met the High Minister’s eyes levelly. “He is safer with me, at this time, as I don’t know who else is seeking his life. I actually like the boy. Obviously, I am doing a good job, as you did not even know where he was.”
“You think I cannot protect my own nephew?” Luthian rose, now the one to take offense.
“I would point out, my lord, that if not for me,” Sordith argued, refusing to rise, “your nephew would be dead at this very moment. Might a moment of gratitude be appropriate? Did you not say you were worried about the poor boy?” Sordith plucked at some lint on his pants before he looked back up to meet the eyes of the High Minister.
Luthian’s cold gaze rested in Sordith’s for a long tense moment before deciding not to argue the point. He sighed, and asked instead: “What of his companion?”
“Betrayed him, and now dead as well. I made sure that no one but Alador walked out of that room.” Sordith’s level answer brought Luthian back down into his chair.
“How is he?” Luthian asked with genuine concern. “I can send healers." He needed that boy. Many of his plans rested on the potential magic that Alador seemed to possess.
“I have already seen to that. The damage left seems to be of the soul. The healer stated she can’t undo what his mind has done. Only time will tell if this will heal at all.” Sordith glanced out the window past Luthian. “She suggested someone that he trusted might be able to return him to a level of… awareness.” Sordith’s eyes returned to the High Minister solemnly. “I will send word when he can communicate again. If you want to help him, I suggest you send for his father.”
Luthian’s face fell farther. He had purposely cast doubts into the boy’s mind as to the trustworthiness of his father, Luthian’s own brother. It was doubtful that, if Alador’s mind was damaged, Henrick would be able to help. However, Henrick might know who the mageling did trust.
“I will do that." Luthian gulped down the rest of his wine. He moved to the side board to refill his glass.
Wisely Sordith did not make a sound. The door opened, drawing both of their attentions, and the servant brought in the tray of food that Luthian had ordered. Luthian indicated to set it on the desk, then turned to look at Sordith.
“May I get you a drink?” he asked.
Sordith grinned widely. “I was afraid you’d never ask. Whatever you are drinking will be fine."
Luthian eyed him. They both knew that his preference was for a very old, fine vintage. There were few bottles left, and they were expensive, when he could find them. The Trench Lord had found a source, but Luthian paid dearly for it. Aorun had always wanted a hard, bitter brew that burned one’s very stomach. Odd, Luthian thought, to find culture in a leader of the trench. In the past, such men were usually hardened and unrefined.
Luthian filled two glasses and turned to hand one to this new player. He handed the glass over as Sordith was popping a chocolate into his mouth. The High Minister returned to his seat, his mind having to calculate swiftly, given the turn of events. He was relieved that Alador was in the city, but disturbed to find out he was in the custody of the Trench Lord.
“I will want to see my nephew, if nothing more than to assure myself that you have been honest and forthcoming.” Luthian sat down as he spoke.
“As long as you understand that he won’t be leaving my custody until I am sure he is safe. I will protect him as if he were my own blood," - Sordith eyed the High Minister coldly - “…even from his own kin.”
Luthian studied him. He was fairly certain that he had just been threatened, but the matter-of-fact way it had been delivered left him with at least two clear choices: kill the Trench Lord or remain silent on the issue. He chose neither.
“I understand your position if you have taken a liking to the boy. However, Sordith, do not forget my authority. You dance around what is proper like a weasel in a hen house.” Luthian’s tone made his own point clear. “You just inferred I would hurt my own nephew.”
“I assure you, my lord, your authority was not in question.” There was a dramatic pause, raising the tension between them. “But you and I both know that keeping murder in the family is commonplace within these walls.” Sordith toasted the High Minister. "Now that we understand one another…,” - Sordith paused to pop a piece of cheese in his mouth - “what is this other matter that you specifically need me to address?”
“I need you to kill my brother, Henrick.” The simple statement lay between them.
“Speaking of murder in the family...” Sordith mumbled. The rogue slowly set his glass down. “Do you realize what you are asking? You want me and my men to kill one of the most powerful mages in the city: a fifth tier mage known to wield fire with a great deal of skill. We hardly have the skills to take on a full blown mage without severely damaging the city.” Sordith leaned on the desk, tapping thoughtfully.
Luthian watched the man calculate. He knew that murder was just as commonplace within the trenches. If there was a way it could be done, the Trench Lord would know it.
“It is going to come with a high price.”
“I will pay what you ask, I do not care about the price.” Luthian frowned. “I would prefer, however, that it looks like an advancement attempt by a fourth level mage. Frame one, for all I care.” The High Minister paused. “Given this recent development with Alador, waiting until you feel the boy is stable should give you enough time to plan something subversive enough to catch my brother off-guard."
Sordith eyed the mage. “You will pay whatever I ask?” Sordith tipped his head and stroked his chin, considering the High Minister’s words.
“Yes, yes. The price is of no concern to me.” Luthian waved his hand dismissively. “Henrick is moving against me, and he is sufficiently skilled in politics to make me uncertain of his next move. I prefer removing the head of a snake before it strikes.”
Sordith slowl
y smiled. “Agreed! I will see to his removal after Alador is hale again.” Sordith took a slow sip while noting the relief on the High Minister’s face. “Tell me, my lord, why don’t you see to your brother yourself? If tales are true, you are the stronger.”
Luthian sighed. “I, like you, have a concern for the city. Such removals are punished if done too obviously. Two fire mages battling it out is not likely to go unnoticed. In addition, my position with the council would be weakened if they believed I had attacked Henrick outright. He is, unfortunately, well liked.” The fact clearly exasperated the mage.
Sordith frowned. “Why don’t you just poison him?”
“I have made three such attempts, and yet, as you know, the man still walks freely. He must have some spell of protection against such strategems.” Luthian frowned. Try as he might, he had yet to detect any active spell when he had made such attempts. It did concern him that there was never any sign of active spells in his brother’s presence. Henrick’s hair also did not bleach from his use of magic: he maintained the same dark hair with which he had been born. If Henrick had found a rejuvenation spell, then he was not sharing.
Luthian had found ways to slow the ravages of time, but Henrick seemed to be completely immune to their taint, a fact that added an additional concern for Luthian. How many other skills had Henrick managed to harvest that Luthian remained unaware of? The one disadvantage of getting his brother out of the city and underfoot was that he then had first pick of the bloodstones from the villages with miners.
Sordith tone became casual. “Most puzzling that the High Minister is unable to remove such a spell. Don’t you think that a bit worrisome?”
Luthian’s eyes came up swiftly to Sordith. His whole body stiffened at the inquiry. He saw no animosity or disrespect on the man’s face, yet the High Minister heard the verbal stab that definitely felt as if there was intent. “Give me the trench reports,” he snapped.
Bloodmines: Cheryl Matthynssens Page 1
