The mage stared down at her, regret schooled behind a cold mask. “Make me. You said you could defend yourself.”
Mesiande tried to buck him off, to knee him and even tried to twist her wrists free, but he held her firmly and she could not break his hold. “Alador, please? You’re scaring me.” Her shrill tone pierced the air between them.
He wanted to apologize; to take back the words he had said. He sat up, now straddling her as he let go of her wrists. Alador regretted the fear he saw in her eyes, but he did not know how else to convince her. “I'd never force you, Mesi,” he said, trying to minimize any pain he had just caused her, “but I may be the only man in the city who can say that.” She stared up at him, wide-eyed and he could see the tears forming. He knew he had brought her fear to the forefront.
“I'd risk that for you.” Her tone held a begging edge. She desperately clutched the front of his shirt.
“I won't let you.” He moved to pull her up into his arms, pulling her close despite her slight resistance. “I am sorry I scared you, but you refuse to see the danger you would be in if you stayed here.” He buried his face in her hair as she trembled against him. “Go home, Mesi. I can do this, but only if I know you are safe.”
“I can’t without Henrick, and you sent him away,” she pointed out petulantly against his shirt, hiding her face against him.
Alador swore as he realized she was right; there was no way for him to get her to safety. He did not know the spell that Henrick used to travel. Alador inwardly cursed his temper. He was going to have to eat his words to some extent with Henrick. “Mesi, I’m going to have the housekeeper bring you a bath. I need to see Sordith.”
Mesiande flashed him a look of triumph despite her wide-eyed and pale state, knowing, for the moment, that she had won. Alador did not miss that look. He had pushed her fear forward only to lose in the end, and felt like he had been a total ass to her for nothing. She scooted to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Don’t think this changes anything, my love. You are going home.” His words were emphatic as he tapped her nose with his finger.
“How do you suggest I explain my sudden disappearance to my mother and the village?” she challenged. Her question was clearly pointing to another reason to stay.
He paused for a moment, not sure what she could say to explain her sudden absence. “Tell her you were lost,” he offered.
Mesiande laughed, slowly recovering from the shock he had given her. “Alador, you know no one will believe that.”
Alador sighed. “I will think of something.” Realizing that, while he was covered, he would need something a bit more formal and protective, he called on his magic to dress in more than bedclothes. Alador caught her wide-eyed shock in the mirror and smiled. “Mage, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.” Her words were low and stumbling. “It is… it is just odd to see it happen with so little effort.” She was obviously biting back turns of Daezun training that magic was evil.
“A weapon is just that, a weapon. It is how one uses it that matters.” He found himself repeating his own lessons.
“Tell that to the family of the men you killed...” she argued, her voice trailing off.
Alador sighed. “I will try to keep that in mind. Remember, Mesi, every man that falls in battle to a sword also has a family. It is no different.”
She nodded, but said nothing more. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. He could feel her eyes following him as he turned and left her in the rooms.
He was not immediately able to find Sordith. A servant told him that the Trench Lord was out, but that Alador could wait for him in his office. He was able to arrange for a bath to be sent in to Mesiande before he was left alone in the office of the rogue he had just discovered was his half brother.
He wandered down the shelves eyeing the exotic items from other lands. It was rather an impressive room. For its size, there was little in the way of furniture. It could have easily been split into two rooms, yet there was nothing but the desk and chairs surrounding it. It had an oppressive feel, even without Aorun behind that desk.
Moving to the wall of weapons, he examined a few he had never seen before. One of these was a strange, spiked device. Several of the sharp protrusions covered the head, with one longer one sticking straight out the end. Its wooden handle was reinforced with a band of iron where the ball joined the shaft. He fingered the sharp spikes before moving on to another.
The next weapon was the length of a quarterstaff, but where he would expect it to end, there was something resembling an axe blade. Alador touched the blade, wondering about the thorn-like hook on the back of the blade. By the look of it, it had seen battle before it had retired to Sordith’s wall.
“I hope you are just curious and not choosing a weapon to kill me with.” Sordith’s lazy drawl caught Alador off guard. He had not heard him even open the door.
Alador reflexively drew power to his hands as he spun about. Sordith immediately put his hands out to his sides to show they were empty, answering not only at the obvious pull of power, but also the look in Alador’s eyes.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Alador hissed.
“Yes, noted. I will point out, however, that you are in my office, and clearly not paying attention.” Sordith lowered his hands as Alador released the power he had pulled.
“You move without any noise,” Alador countered.
Sordith smirked. “Yes, takes a bit of practice, but it is now a habit I don’t even think about.” Sordith shrugged and moved closer.
“It is time we talked,” Alador simply stated.
“Is it a family trait to point out the obvious?” Sordith ginned mischievously. “I didn’t think it would take too long for you to gather your wits. Come, I’ve a more comfortable room, and we can share a drink.” Sordith gestured to the door that Alador had come through with the servant.
He led the way to a sitting room that was warm and simply furnished. Alador looked around, taking in his surroundings before he chose a chair that seemed less likely to allow someone to sneak up behind him. Sordith brought him a glass and pointedly took a drink before handing it to Alador. “I know you don't trust anyone or anything at the moment, and I know you don’t drink, but I think you’ll find this to your liking.”
Alador took the drink and sipped it carefully. It was sweet, even though it still had that scalding burn to the throat indicative of strong liquor. He coughed a bit before smiling over to where Sordith was sitting down with his own drink. “Bites a bit,” he murmured. He cleared his throat.
“Does it? I guess I have been drinking so long, I barely notice.” As if to make his point, Sordith downed a third of his glass before he set it down beside him. “Where would you like to start?”
Alador thought about it as he sipped from his own glass. “I have this habit of causing harm to those that I find I actually need,” he admitted.
“Henrick?” Sordith did not appear to need an answer, but he sounded sincere.
The mage nodded. “I now realize that I need Henrick.”
“For what? I think you made your points rather clear when you sent him on his way,” Sordith pointed out.
“To send Mesiande home. I can’t let her remain here. If Luthian ever got word that she exists, that she is here, he would use her against me. I know myself well enough to know that it would work,” he admitted. He was taking a leap of faith here, but Mesiande had made a good point. He needed help, and Sordith had kept his promises so far, even if he had been a bit late.
“You rather effectively shut that door.” Sordith looked rather amused.
“Hence my coming to you for help.” Alador sighed in frustration. “Is he still here?”
“Nope,” Sordith answered smugly. “He has returned to the fifth tier.”
Alador sighed with a mixture of relief and frustration. “Then I’ll need to go to speak with him. He is unlikely to return, as angry as I made him.” Alador t
ook another swig at the thought of the coming discussion.
Sordith sat back in his chair as he put his hands lazily behind his head. “Alador, has it occurred to you that you make half of your own troubles?”
Alador looked into his glass, swirling the amber liquid. “More than once,” he admitted.
“You know, they say it is a sign of madness to repeat the same errors over and over again and learn nothing from them.” Sordith’s light teasing tone held a serious edge.
Alador was quiet for a long moment as he continued to swirl the liquid in his glass. “I didn’t used to be like that. Since I came into my power, this anger seethes in me that just seems to have a mind of its own.” He looked up.
Sordith moved his hands back to the desk as he looked at Alador more seriously. “If you don’t get control of it, then one day, you will be in a situation where no one is there to rescue you from the path of wreckage you created.”
Alador considered this carefully. Sordith was right: there had always been someone there to minimize the damage caused by his willful and angry actions. “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he promised. He was, however, sure that there would be other incidents. When he got angry, he often acted without taking the time to think through the possible consequences.
“I will get you some clothing similar to my men, with my insignia. Luthian is looking for you, and it is unlikely he knows you are on your feet.” Sordith picked up his glass, eyeing the contents. “I would also suggest you don’t go until tonight.”
“To use the cover of darkness,” Alador nodded his agreement.
“No, to give Henrick more time to calm down.” Sordith grinned and toasted him before he took a drink.
Alador grimaced. As he assessed Sordith, he was fairly certain that the man was older than him. He definitely had similarities to Henrick. “Tell me, how are we brothers?”
Sordith took a musing sip before he began to speak. “My mother was a third tier mage. She had high hopes of bonding with a higher level mage, and had the beauty to make it possible. When I was old enough to ask after my father, she wouldn’t tell me anything...” Sordith drained his glass and got up to refill it.
“One night, she was drunk and her tongue loosened. She spoke of a fire mage that she had fallen deeply in love with - his mesmerizing eyes, his smooth skill with words.” Sordith turned back to look at Alador. “She must have realized that she had said too much because she switched the topic and refused to return to it. It was enough, however, for me to begin looking. I knew it was a fire mage. I knew he was a smooth talker and good-looking.”
He returned to his chair, seeming to ponder the depths of his glass before speaking again. “She died about a turn later. I think back, and I am sure it was from a broken heart. She just slowly wasted away.” Sordith was still staring into his glass as he spoke. “On her death bed, she made me promise that if I ever found him, not to blame him. She admitted she had thrown herself at him, and that she had never told him she had a child.” Sordith took a deep drink.
The fire in the near wall crackled in the silence as Sordith sought for words. “I never thought about looking to the Guldalian brothers. It seemed unlikely that she would cast her hopes so high. But the more I followed the two of you, the more I realized that there were similarities in her words, his looks and myself that I could not ignore,” Sordith’s soft admission was filled with sadness.
“But you don’t have magic?” Alador probed. “The magic in Henrick is very strong.”
“But not in my mother. I suspect that I inherited the lack of magic on her side.” He smiled as he looked up from his glass. “…Though some say my abilities stem from a different kind of magic.” He looked up and winked at Alador. “I definitely have the same charm with the ladies if I choose to use it.”
“So you suspect that you are my brother, but you don’t have any proof…” Alador considered Sordith’s words carefully.
“No. I can’t be certain we are brothers. However, I feel sure enough to call you brother.” Sordith saluted him with his glass then drained it.
Alador looked down at his only half-empty glass. One thing was certain: Sordith drank like his father. “I am sure enough as well. I would like to feel there was one person I could trust.”
“I think you have more allies than that.” Sordith pointed at Alador with the empty glass as he frowned.
“I do? Henrick has proven I cannot trust him to be straightforward. Mesiande, well she cannot stay here.” Alador could name no others.
“You forget that paranoid death mage,” Sordith pointed out. “It has been all I can do to keep him from storming in with poisons at the ready.”
“Oh,” Alador closed his eyes as he contemplated Sordith’s addition of Jon. Alador had forgotten Jon with the sudden jerk back to reality and discovering Mesiande here. He nodded slowly, realizing that he did trust Jon, as much as he could trust anyone right now. “I guess I had best speak to him. He might actually do that. I will send word to Jon that I’m all right and that I'll see him soon," Alador added.
“Well, that is assuming you and Henrick do not come to blows.” Sordith grinned at Alador. “I am fairly certain that that would be an encounter of note.”
Alador rolled his eyes. “I’ve no doubt my father could easily best me. I don’t plan to be that stupid.”
“You never do,” Sordith quipped, “do you?”
Chapter Eight
Alador sat on the bench by the door out of the Trench Hall. He was dressed in grays and blacks, as were most of Sordith’s men. He had a grey cloak with a large cowl, the back boldly proclaiming the mark of the Trench Lord. Though, he had to admit, having a sword at his side was the most reassuring thing at that moment.
Sordith had sent Owen up with the gear and to give Alador some sword practice. As he sat there thinking, he realized that Owen might have gone easy on him. The mage hurt everywhere that the large man had struck a blow. As big as Owen was, he suspected that had Owen not pulled his own strength, he would bear a broken bone or two. He had to admit that the few days in bed had contributed to a loss of strength and swiftness.
Sordith had arranged for the three of them to go see Henrick. Owen was coming to guard the door, and Sordith was going in with Alador in an attempt to make peace with Henrick. Alador was unsure of how he was going to manage this feat. His feelings about his father had not changed, yet he needed the mage’s help. Something told him that he, himself, was going to be more of a problem than his father’s reactions.
When the door opened down the hall, Alador stood. Sordith strolled in looking quite formidable. He was not sure how the man did it. He did not seem to be excessively armored and yet, the new Trench Lord was quite intimidating. Sordith had his hair smoothed back to the base of his neck. His leather pants and jerkin were oiled to a sheen, making the black contrast sharply with the deep blue shirt beneath. His waist bore a contrasting blue leather belt, embroidered with white emblems that Alador did not recognize. Alador’s eyes came to rest on his brother’s weapons last. The hilts bore matching dragon heads, each with eyes of glistening red stone.
Sordith followed his brother’s eyes and pulled the right blade with his left hand with a bit of a flourish. He flipped in his hand and offered the hilt to Alador. “I had them specially made for me, I just received them.”
Alador took the blade into his own hands, marveling at the craftsmanship. The blade resembled a flame and the steel had somehow been yellowed, save for three barbs near the hilt at the top side, and they moved from yellow to red at the tip of each barb. “It seems more a weapon for court,” Alador commented. Then he touched the barb and realized while it might look ceremonial, it was sharpened with precision. He winced as a bead of blood formed on his finger tip.
“It is supposed to: to deceive my less astute enemies and convince them I am nothing but a glorified dandy: after which, they would soon realize their folly in underestimating me.” Sordith’s wicked smile gained an answering one from A
lador. “You ready?”
Alador sighed heavily, the dread evident in the hissing air. “As I ever will be...” Alador handed Sordith the blade. “I don’t like having to eat my words when I meant them.”
“Yes, perhaps you should consider stilling that tongue of yours. Seems to get you into a fair amount of trouble,” Sordith reminded him, followed by a wink.
Alador could not help but like Sordith, and he sincerely hoped that he was really his older brother. “I have been told that ever since I found that blasted bloodstone. Sometimes, I wonder if the dragon was in it and not just his magic.”
“Is that possible?” Sordith asked as he sheathed his blade.
“I don't honestly know,” Alador admitted.
Owen looked between them curiously. “I hope it ain’t possible,” he grumbled out. “Cause you sent me to beat on him.” Owen looked at Sordith with concern. “I don’t want any dragon breathing on me.”
Alador gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t worry Owen, it only seems a problem when I get angry.”
“Noted: don’t make the little mage angry,” Owen said as he looked down at Alador.
Sordith grinned and opened the door. He led the way down from the Trench House, and both Alador and Owen fell into step behind him. It was clear by Sordith’s pace that the Trench Lord was on a mission.
Alador marveled, however, at Sordith when they reached the populace that lived within the Trench itself. Sordith stopped and asked a washerwoman about her day. He stopped at a sweetmeat vendor and purchased one for all the little urchins that had gathered about him. He gave some extra slips to the filthy merchant making him promise to give every urchin a sweetmeat for the day. He reminded him to make sure to only give one to each. The people actually smiled as the three passed through.
Alador had kept his cowl up, his face barely visible, and was relieved when he seemed to draw no unwarranted attention. Sordith was putting on quite the show of loving lord, so all eyes were drawn to the flash and smile of the new Trench Lord and his pouch of slips. Sordith could have easily made his living as an entertainer, Alador thought. His easy manner and quick comebacks gained a smile from even the most hardened face they passed.
Bloodmines: Cheryl Matthynssens Page 7
