Highmage (Highmage's Plight Book 4)

by D. H. Aire

  “What was she doing at Court? She has never had anything to even remotely do with the Empress,” Grendel raged.

  “It will not matter. Krahiel knows events are in motion and that we will free him soon enough. He will not talk. Even with the dwarven auxiliaries and these reports of old legionnaires suddenly appearing in the city, Lord Hayden will take this city with the might of three provinces at his beck.”

  Tett stared down the street at first thinking they were going to have another mob to contend with, then yelled, “Lady Cle’or!”

  Spiro rushed up the ladder to the top of the estate wall as the new gate was hinged into place, “What’s…” One look told him. “Well, this will call for a new ballad.”

  Cle’or with sword drawn ran from the front door with Andre secured behind her. “What is it?!”

  “I don’t think you are going to need that,” Spiro called down, grinning.

  She sheathed her sword and climbed, reaching his side she stared. “Oh…”

  Several hundred women in black livery drew to a halt behind Mother Shaman De’ohr. “Greetings, Cle’or.”

  “Mother Shaman.”

  “I have foreseen that Lord Balfour is currently in residence. Please ask him to grant us an audience.”

  Inside the house reflected through their link, Fri’il shouted, “Bal, De’ohr is here!”

  “What!?” Me’oh shouted.

  Me’oh held Balfour’s hand as they came down the stairs behind Fri’il, who cradled her daughter in her arms. Juels walked behind them, carrying Rachiel. “Milord, you are looking well.”

  “I will be very busy soon enough it seems,” he replied.

  “Fatherhood appears to agree with you.”

  “Thank you… so what brings you here?”

  “I bring sad tidings. My brother, Lord Ryff, is dead.”

  Cle’or lowered her head, realizing things were worse than she had feared, as Fri’il and Me’oh stared in horror.

  “What happened?”

  “He was murdered. Our House is Shattered. Most of us have fled Cathart and come here.”

  “You abandoned Vyss?” Fri’il rasped.

  “It provided his only chance,” De’ohr replied, “this I foresaw. He is in hiding as is his mother. The Lords hunt him, but will not find him.”

  “Hunting him?” Cle’or said angrily. “He’s a Secondson. They should be feting him! He can fulfill the prophecy and end our Curse.”

  De’ohr sighed. “They fear change… the mere idea that Sisters could expect to bear male children in greater numbers terrifies them.”

  “But your people will die out,” Balfour said.

  “We’ve survived thus far…” De’ohr replied. “So they think we will continue to.”

  “Who had father killed?” Cle’or demanded, tears blurring her vision.

  “I do not know. My visions are blind to that, which almost led to complete disaster. We barely got out of Catha in time.”

  “My daughters?” Me’oh asked.

  “Mahr is here in the city,” she replied. “Of your younger daughter we’ve had no word. Her group missed the rendezvous. We could not wait for them any longer and the Sisters in charge should have led them on to Hollif, but we have not had any word of that, either.”

  Balfour cleared his throat, “So, if I understand correctly, you’ve brought the entire House here.”

  “Yes, and we’re at your service, Milord.”

  He glanced at Me’oh, “Uh, just how many people are we talking about?”

  “Two thousand three hundred and twenty-six.”

  “All at my service?”

  “And Lord Je’orj’s, of course,” she replied, smiling.

  “Uh huh… Cle’or, Me’oh, conference… now.”

  Se’and was arguing with Je’orj privately, the Empress and Lonny retreating into an Underhill extension of her suite. “George, she’s as much your wife as I.”

  “Oh, I don’t disagree with that.”

  “Why do you have to be so stubborn? This is your world now, not this Earth which gave birth to you. You know that Fri’il loves you and I’ve seen the way you look at Ri’ori!”

  He leaned on his staff.

  “Everyone loves you, your steed who has apparently waited centuries for her destined rider, even those miscreant apprentices you’ve taken on adore you.”

  “And I care for them all, which I’ve demonstrated time after time.”

  :And you adored Revit and Terus enough to send them to boarding school.:

  George winced, knowing the jibe was not fair, even as Se’and said, “Yet you really think to take the Gate home?”

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “Fine, then why not just bed the Empress. Get it over with. The Gate will be yours. You can leave! Or does what will surely happen once you do, give you pause? Our House will die aborning… without male heir, to say nothing of this Empire, the lands beyond, or the Empress, who is beautiful beyond measure, she my Sister now.

  “She needs an heir as much as this land needs a Highmage to fight the Demon in the north. Or does this civil war make the great arche-ologist, you apparently are, quake in fear? Not just Grendel, but Lord Hayden would take by force that which is not rightfully his.”

  Thunder shook the window.

  “What? Nothing to say? Even the skies grow angry.”

  “Se’and…”

  “What?” She paused, going pale. “De’ohr… why is De’ohr here?”

  “Se’and?” he grabbed her as she trembled, then nearly dropped to her knees.

  “Oh, no, please no.”

  ‘George!’

  “I see,” he muttered.

  Fri’il was crying as De’ohr said, “With the House Shattered we had nowhere else to go. Ryff’s enemies will not benefit from their foul murderous act. That leaves but one branch of the line, this one for us to seek out.”

  Cle’or stood stiffly as Balfour said, “Why? We have little to offer you.”

  “My lord, you have everything to offer us and in return, we are yours and Lord Je’orj’s to command.”

  Gasping between sobs, “You don’t understand…”

  “What, Se’and?”

  “The House is Shattered… They are desperate… You must help them… Oh, Father.”

  He brushed away her tears and tilted her head up and kissed her, holding staff behind her back. It flared.

  Fri’il and Cle’or jerked, touched their lips, then lowering their hands said in unison, “Bal, promise them our aid in return for their support of Her Majesty.”

  De’ohr and everyone else in the room stared.

  “Je’orj?”

  “Yes, it’s me. You don’t understand and I’m not sure I do, fully. But family helps family. We’ll deal with the rest later, if that meets with the Mother Shaman’s approval?”

  “It does, Milord.”

  Fri’il and Cle’or turned to stare at each other.

  The link faded and Se’and sobbed, “They murdered him… murdered my father.”

  “I’m so sorry, Se’and,” he whispered, holding her tight.

  She pounded his chest, “And now you offer my family succor, yet you would leave us?”

  “Se’and…”

  “Bed her and be on your way then! Our House will be shattered like… oh…”

  “Se’and, I’m not abandoning you.”

  She struggled, tears streaking her face. “Leave then. Just take the Empress to your bed and be done with us!”

  “No,” he said, tears in his eyes.

  “Why, damn you? Why not?”

  “Because I love you that’s why, not her… not Fri’il or anyone else that way.”

  She stared, “You love me?”

  ‘You’ve gone and done it now, George.’

  “Yes,” he said too softly.

  She pounded his chest, “And you’re going to bed that… that… elvin…”

  Eyes wide, he gaped.

  “Never even dallied wi
th me? You slept with Fri’il. I practically pushed her into your arms and you’ve loved me the whole time!?”

  She slapped him, then grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. The next thing he knew she tripped him and…

  Chapter

  34

  Fri’il’s eyes widened as Cle’or shook her head.

  De’ohr was staring at them as Spiro pelted her with questions for the ballad he would write of the Shattered House and the Highmage’s who would claim them. Balfour muttered to Raven, “Well, what do you make of this?”

  As Juels held Ri’ori, her eyes danced with glee. Raven shook her head, then bounded from the house, shimmered and changed, taking wing, soaring upward. She soon flew toward the palace.

  Andre scratched Rachiel’s chin and whispered, “Shh, shh, everything well, I think.”

  Me’oh walked up to the Mother Shaman. “De’ohr, what of my daughters?”

  Ruke rode double with Mahr at his back with his escort of young black liveried bodyguards through yet another Tier gate, passing armed dwarves and a scattering of Imperial guard under an exhausted looking captain.

  An elflord rode up behind them with an escort that seemed less than pleased to have to ride behind humans. “Make way!” the elflord shouted.

  “Imperial messenger,” Ruke shouted back.

  “Human, make way, I say!”

  Mahr made a gesture and they all suddenly wheeled their mounts around. The elflord and his party drew up short, cursing. Za’an announced, “You would interfere with an Imperial messenger at your own hazard.”

  “Fool human, who rides with girls with swords who obviously know not their worth… we will take this message to the palace you mentioned.”

  Lighting cracked in the distance as the sky grew darker.

  Ruke noted the livery, knew it for a Great House that had not voted in favor of Lord Je’orj. “Give the message here, boy!”

  Click, clack… click… click.

  Ruke raised a hand, “Milord, best you go back to your Household and reconsider your allegiance to Lord Grendel.”

  “You stupid human!” He began to sing out a spell as the arrow knocked him off his horse. Flit, flit, flit, three others fell, crying out as bowmen rose from the nearby rooftops, silhouetted by the waning starlight behind them.

  The elflord cursed, rising, and sang out once more as he broke off the shaft sticking through his ribs. There was a shriek and the pounding of wings. The elflords words were lost as the pale falc clawed his face.

  He screamed as the men sought to rally only to fight rearing horses, crying from pain as shafts struck them. Those that fell, rose and ran. Injured horses as well as abandoned men, milled. “Leave him, Raven!”

  Ruke turned as a dwarf came out of the shadows and bashed the bleeding lordling on the head with his hammer. The elflord slumped. The dwarf grinned, “What do you want us to do with this one, Boss?”

  “Gather the horse and find the injured a healer, we’re going to need those mounts all too soon,” said an elf with a disfigured hand as he strode forth out of the shadows. “Ruke, I see you’ve made some friends.”

  “Lucian, what are you doing?”

  “That’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately,” he replied.

  Ebb scurried down from the nearest roof as the Cathartan watched warily. “Hey, Ruke, you’re overdue.”

  “I’m going to report now.”

  “Miniature Cathartans… definitely a reason to be reporting late,” he said, chuckling.

  Mahr said, “I take it these are friends.”

  The former urchins above them chuckled as he replied, “Most definitely.”

  “Se…and,” he murmured as she knocked him down.

  “You are not getting away from me this time!”

  ‘George, I’m falling!’

  “Shut up, Staff,” Se’and cried. “You’re distracting him.”

  “Ouch,” George cried as his computer rolled to a stop. “Se’and, stop that!”

  “Oh, no, loverboy… Fri’il, get out of my head, I don’t need any advice!”

  Cle’or nodded as she boiled more water for tea, “Fri’il, really, I think she’s matters well in hand.”

  “But he’s wily!”

  Juels stared and whispered something in Ri’ori’s eyes. The baby burbled as if agreeing wholeheartedly.

  De’ohr glanced at them from the other room as Me’oh offered her refreshment as and it began to rain. Scores of Sisters came inside, while others made for the barn. The dwarves gestured for them to join them under the cook tent.

  Fri’il and Cle’or suddenly paused and smiled at each other, “Now that’s more like it.”

  Grendel cursed the storm, knowing he had lost any chance to take the Empress as his prize this night. But she would be his soon enough. The human had not the resources to defend the city with so many of the Houses against him, and the Empress depending upon ill trained or retired legionnaires.

  He did not like at all the looks Archmage Kolter periodically gave him as fewer of those allied to him came to their lair. As long as they remained Underhill and too frightened to take a side, Lord Sianhiel and the Empress’s puppet, Lord Lyai, would not have enough magery at their beck to forestall Hayden’s forces from taking the city in but a day.

  The Empire and the pretty Empress would be his at last.

  Se’and nudged him as it thundered and rain poured against the wide window that oversaw the gardens. “What?”

  “Did you hear the palace bell? Do you realize she’ll be back soon?!”

  Shaking his head, he rose from the floor as Se’and hastily gathered her undergarments, threw on her dress, glanced at the rumpled bed, then back at her lord. “Oh, my… go in there, shower, and get cleaned up and give me your clothes. You’ve torn them.”

  “I tore them?”

  She stamped her feet, “No time to argue. There’s a nice robe in there for you.”

  “There is?”

  She took his clothes from him, backed toward the door, “She’ll be back soon.” She left with all haste.

  He picked up staff, which muttered, :Women.:

  “Don’t you start.”

  Servants entered, pushing a cart with flowers and dinner for two, one called to the other, who paused to hastily help straighten the sheets as George closed the door to the bathing area which was larger than the bed chamber.

  He turned the handle on what was definitely not a primitive shower. Water cascaded on him as he lathered with the soap and washed his hair. He luxuriated under the instantly warmed water.

  “What happened?”

  “Lonny, I’m naked.”

  His red haired steed frowned, “You see me naked all the time.”

  “Normally when you’re a horse.”

  “Raven is right. You people are crazy over fabric.”

  “Lonny, please.”

  She handed him a towel. “Her Majesty is waiting for you… Do not tell me that you… did anything on the Empress’s bed.”

  “Most definitely not.”

  :Se’and threw you off it first.:

  Lonny raised an eyebrow. “Lord Je’orj, you will properly romance Her Majesty.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Now pass me that robe.” He glanced about and saw a pair of slippers, which he put on.

  “Romance like horses do,” she said and off she walked.

  “Um.”

  :I think Babylon has an odd notion of romance.:

  He crossed the ripple in reality and joined the Empress, Underhill.

  The palace was laid out before them, turning to present a view of the capital city under the stars. “Beautiful, is it not?”

  “It’s lovely.”

  “I see Se’and got you to clean up properly and accept the present of the robe.”

  “Uh, yes, she was rather adamant about it.”

  “You mean she stole your clothes.”

  “You could say that,” he said, nodding.

  She smiled, “She is
a fascinating woman. She seems to be quite a bodyguard.”

  “Rather deadly when crossed.”

  “So am I… and I will not let the Empire fall from within or that traitor get away with what he did to Carwina.”

  George nodded.

  The Empress gestured to the bottle of wine and George poured. :Wine and dine her, that’s the trick,: Staff half-whispered in his mind as he ignored the comment and raised his glass to her.

  “This is rather awkward, isn’t it?” she admitted.

  “More so because I do not even know you name.”

  She laughed, “I am the Fifteenth Empress in the more than four thousand year history of the Aqwaine Empire. In all the Imperial decrees I am referred to as Fifteenth.”

  “Not exactly a real name,” George commented.

  “My line bears the name Aqwaine and I was Lady Aqwaine while heir… but mother told me once that, well, father called me Lorraina as a baby.”

  “Lorraina… Now that is a lovely name, fit for an Empress.”

  She smiled, nodding, “Would that I ever heard it from his lips.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “All I ask is that our heir know her father and that you choose a name as lovely.”

  “Why not you?”

  “I? That would be against all tradition.”

  “There are some traditions in need of changing.”

  “It is tradition that has allowed this Empire to survive, Lord Je’orj.”

  “Is that why Academy trained mages must pronounce spells and Faeryn mages have no need?”

  “Highmage Faeryn was innovative and saved the Empire during my granddame’s reign… But his actions nearly brought the Empire to civil war.”

  “How was magery done in the early days of the Empire?”

  She sat back, “By spell, of course.”

  “Really? How do you know?”

  “We’ve grimoire, histories, and ballads, of course.”

  “Are the grimoire as old as four millennia?”

  “Of course not. Such things have long ago been lost or destroyed by time.”

  “My apprentice, Aaprin, read many things during his days in the Academy, he once thought during one of our lessons that things had changed as elfbloods joined the mage ranks.”