by Greg Curtis
Strangely, tired as he was, he wasn't able to sleep. He was too lost in thought as endless questions had assailed him for which he had found few answers. And top of the list was who the woman was. But maybe now he thought as he heard the eagles coming closer, he might get a few answers.
It wasn't long before he heard the eagles landing nearby and waited in his circle until they arrived, determined not to take his attention off the prisoners for even one moment. But then he did when he realised that one of the new arrivals was running toward him. It was Caris.
“Baen, dear one!”
Baen barely managed to turn around to face her before Caris was upon him, holding him close. And despite his best intentions of keeping his thoughts on the task at hand he was hugging her back and laughing. But in fairness the prisoners weren't doing anything and he had missed her. Especially since his enchanted stones had stopped working.
“What are you doing here?” He finally asked her as the other Fae went to the prisoners.
“When I heard you'd been in a battle with one of our own, I had to come. You could have been hurt. You're still far too young for a battle like that.”
“It wasn't really a battle,” he told her. “More of an ambush. I didn't give them the chance to fight back. And now that your people are here, she'll never get that chance again.” He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the threat would now be neutralised. He was glad too that he could see no sign of that awful red line that had been around her neck. No sign of scarring either. The healers had done good work.
He expected that Estor – at least that was who he assumed she was – would hold a lot more information which the Fae would have to extract. But even though she was still unconscious and her magic had been contained, he worried that she was still dangerous. Still, any danger she posed would be less against her own people, which was why he was glad that they had flown out from G'lorenvale to bring her home. The Duke he could handle. It was the woman that worried him.
“Still, if she is as powerful as you say, you were fortunate to defeat her.”
“Cunning, would be more accurate. I struck like a thief in the night and gave them no chance to fight back. It wasn't exactly a noble fight. But it had to be done.” And he was glad to have won it. The woman had surprised him with her strength.
“Her power is truly so great?” One of the others asked suddenly.
“At least as powerful as mine. And my rune-craft has been growing these past years. I have been studying.” He waved in the direction of his circle and his small army of elementals still faithfully guarding the prisoners. “I don't think I could have bested her in a fair fight.” And if she'd known he was there, things would have been very different he suspected.
“Do you recognise her?” Baen pointed at the woman.
“No. I don't know either her face or the name Estor. But I sense in her a deep pain. The sort that leads to dark places. You are sure she is the one behind the attack?”
“Certain? No.” Baen admitted. “But when I saw her and the Duke together as partners and perhaps even as friends, and realised that she was the one providing the Duke with his magic and presumably the raiders, it seemed likely. The Duke after all seeks the throne of Grenland. What need would he have to invade G'lorenvale? It does not help him in his quest. Not if he does not gain his magic from the blood and bone of the Fae, but rather from her hand. And her magic is similar to mine. She distils rather than enchants potions but she also enchants traps and rings. And all those raiders carried potions with them. I'm fairly sure she provided them of her own free will.”
“We will investigate,” the man replied. “We will learn who she is, have no doubt.”
“Good.” Baen had hoped they would. Because there was a mystery there that needed solving. Perhaps the answers they found would help fix things. Still, just getting the Duke to a magistrate's office should set things on a more even keel. If the King no longer had to fear his uncle's return or imminent death, then his decrees should return to something more usual. Something that didn't entail the persecution of anyone who had a gift.
“Mistress!” One of the others called to Caris unexpectedly as they were talking. The man was standing over the prone body of the woman who for some reason he had turned over so that she was lying on her front. “You should see this!”
Caris naturally went to him, and Baen followed, wondering what was so important that the man should interrupt their reunion.
“Oh!” Caris paled as she saw what the young man was pointing at. Then she turned to Baen.
“This mark, you put it on her back?”
“I did,” he admitted, wondering why it mattered. “I didn't like doing it, but it had to be done. It was better than killing them.”
“But where did you get it from?” Her expression had unexpectedly grown serious.
“A book. Ingrim's Ancient Binds or something like that. It's hundreds of years old and based on runes and symbols hundreds of years older still.”
“It's not good.”
“I agree. It's a fearsome enchantment. It places a distance between the caster and their magic.” Baen was starting to worry. She looked so anxious all of a sudden. As if he'd done something wrong. But he was sure he hadn't. He'd done the very best he could. Still, all of a sudden he felt the need to defend himself. Even when he didn't know what from.
“What else was I to do? I could not leave them as they were, and I would not kill them. They were helpless. I had not brought cold iron with me as I was not expecting to find anyone other than the Duke and being human he would be immune to it anyway. So I used it.”
“And you spoke the prayers?”
“What prayers? There were no prayers. It's just a spell.” Wasn't it? But when he looked at Caris and saw the worry in her face, he wondered that it might not be. Prayers? They were things for priests to deal with. And he was no priest. He had spoken no prayers. He had spoken nothing at all!
“It's not just a spell.” She studied him closely. “It's a mark of the Reaver. A demon's curse.”
“The Reaver!” Baen was shocked. But he quickly controlled his reaction. “I spoke no curse. I made no prayer. I said nothing at all. I simply copied the enchantment directly out of a book and crafted it into a brand which my elementals then placed on the backs of them. As far as I can tell it worked perfectly, just as an enchantment. Some of the parts of the enchantment are somewhat arcane and didn't make much sense to me. But it didn't seem to matter.”
Caris was quiet for a few moments as she thought his words over, until finally she came to a decision. One that she clearly didn't like.
“Baen. Dear one, your words may be true and I'm sure you believe them. But you should never have used this marking. It has to be investigated. Even if you used it only as a basic enchantment, there could still be consequences to you. Serious ones. You can't invoke the essence of a demon and not expect trouble. You need to return to the Glade.”
Baen swore under his breath. He didn't want to go back there now. And he didn't have time either. But he also knew Caris. She would never lie to him. If she said she believed he might be in danger, she meant it.
“Caris I cannot return there. Not now. I have to get the Duke to a magistrate so that they may in turn take him to the King. And then I have to return home and continue changing King Richmond's decrees for as long as I can.” Did she even know about that, he wondered? He hadn't thought to ask.
“I'm sorry. But lives depend on me. The lives of those like me with gifts. And the longer I can keep blocking the King's decrees and substituting them with my own, the more will get to safety.”
“I promise you, I will head back to Illoria the moment my scheme has run its course, and you may examine me to your hearts content. Maybe in a few more weeks. But until then, I must continue my work. And I do not feel any taint within me. Nothing of darkness. Nothing new.”
“And I'm sorry too.” Caris wrapped him up in her arms again. “I truly wish that that were enoug
h. That I could believe you.”
Even as Baen was about to ask her what she meant he felt a sting in the back of his neck. He turned hurriedly to see what had stung him, but Caris held him tight, preventing him from twisting around. And it was then that he saw the pain in her eyes and understood.
“What have you done?” He tried to ask her, but already it was an effort to push the words out. His tongue felt thick. It wouldn't quite obey him as it should. And hands, strong hands suddenly grabbed him from behind.
“I'm so sorry!” Caris told him as the muscles in his legs began to go weak. There were tears forming in her eyes. “If there was any other way.”
“What …?” He tried again to get her to tell him what she'd done. What was happening. But he couldn't. It wasn't just his mouth that was failing. Nor even his legs. The world was beginning to spin and he couldn't seem to stop it.
Suddenly he found himself staring at the stars and the moon, wondering what had happened. It took him a moment to realise he must have fallen. And another to understand that they'd drugged him. They'd betrayed him! He just couldn't understand that. Not Caris! Never her! She just wouldn't do that!
But as the night grew darker still and her face and those of the others floating in the sky above him became fainter, he knew she had. He just didn't know why. All he knew was the pain of having been betrayed by her. And the worry that he might not wake up.
After that he didn't know anything at all.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Life in the wizard's house was by turns both astonishing and boring. Dariya was constantly coming across things that surprised her. Some even shocked her. It was magic mostly. Baen Walkerton was a wizard of great ability. But he also lived a profoundly boring life. She was used to getting up at the first crack of dawn and setting off on whatever mission she had been assigned. He on the other hand would probably rather read a book. He also seemed to have no end of comfortable chairs. Why did any man need so many chairs? How many places could he sit down? And how many books could he read?
Clearly they were two very different people.
But at least he seemed was less batty than his Aunt Millie. He was certainly less annoying than his great uncle who never seemed to stop talking to himself and swearing at her. And apparently far less of an embarrassment than his Aunt Martha who periodically went riding naked through the city, shooting off pistols. At least so she had been told. That had to count for something.
Thankfully he would be back in another day. Five days she had been told. After that she could return to her own life – what little of it remained.
She wasn't happy with her current lot. She was no longer a rider with the Order. It had been the only life she'd known for a very long time. It was still the only life she wanted. Now it was gone and they were threatening her with a new one – Queen. She really didn't want that. Even if she was truly born to that life as they claimed, she hated the thought.
And yet if it became necessary for her to take up that mantle, could she refuse? It was one of the questions that weighed on her.
“Moping around again?”
She turned as she heard J'bel's voice coming from behind her and saw him walking out of the stairway housing. He had been coming every day to check on her.
“Not moping. Just wanting to do something. To get out of this place.”
“That sounds like moping to me,” he told her a little bluntly. He was not a man given to tact – which was odd considering that he was part of a diplomatic Mission. “You should enjoy your time here. Relax. Do as Master Walkerton asks.”
“I should be training my students. Riding patrols. Not sitting here shepherding the wizard's half mad relatives around and swapping messages on the legs of pigeons!”
Though she had to admit, the gambit was brilliant. King Richmond had to be pulling his hair out as he tried to work out why the realm wasn't following his commands. Baen was a clever man. But as she stared out over the city and the forest growing in the streets, she did have to wonder if he was a little mad too.
This sanctuary idea he'd come up with – it wouldn't work. Sooner or later people would come along with axes and chop the trees down. And whoever was taking shelter within their embrace would be exposed. And yet the trees were fifteen feet tall and growing higher every day. Baen’s Aunt Millie didn’t seem to understand that they were surely due to be felled shortly.
“And it's that that I came to speak with you about.” J'bel sighed quietly as he walked over to stand beside her at the balcony railing. “There is a problem.”
“A problem?” She didn't like the sound of that. “He wasn't able to capture my uncle?”
“Actually from what we were told this morning, he did. He caught him, and with your uncle a Fae woman. They say they believe she is your Estor. His old tutor is apparently still alive and feeding him potions to grant him his magic.”
“Estor's alive?” Dariya was shocked by that, though really she didn't know why she should be. She'd never seen the woman. She'd been killed before she'd even arrived at the castle so she understood. Still rarely had a day gone by when her uncle didn’t boast of how he'd killed her and stolen her magic. Now she he was being told the woman was alive and her uncle had been lying all along? It didn't make a lot of sense. For a start, why would he have bothered lying about that? To her of all people?
“It would seem so.” J'bel shrugged. “She is being brought back to Illoria for questioning and no doubt answers will be found.”
“Good. And the wizard will be back here tomorrow and I can return to my life?” But even as she asked she knew the answer wasn't going to be the one she wanted to hear.
“I'm afraid not.” J'bel squirmed a little as he stood there beside her. “as I said, there's been a problem.”
“What sort of problem?” Already Dariya was feeling unhappy. She wanted to be gone from here. Mortimer was out and about, wandering through the tree filled streets, talking to himself and bothering the poor people of the city. But soon he would be back to bother her and probably demand food. Then she had to go and take a walk with Aunt Millie and listen to more fashion advice from a woman wearing cobwebs and mould. She wasn’t looking forward to any of it.
“Unfortunately it seems that Baen Walkerton has been using some form of dark magic. Demonancy. And he is being brought back to Illoria as well to be assessed.”
“That doesn't sound like him,” she commented. And then something in what he'd said hit her. “Did you say he's being brought back? Against his will?”
“From what I can gather, it seems so.”
“By the Lady – you can't do that! The wizard for all his faults is human. He is from Grenland. He cannot simply be abducted back to G'lorenvale. That's a violation of the Golden Concord!”
But why was she telling him that, she wondered? Especially when he wasn't the one who had grabbed the wizard or even made the decision.
“Actually he is a man of two worlds. Many years ago he wandered into our Realm and asked to be guided in his magic. His gift was powerful, his need great and he seemed sincere in his desire to live among us. So the decision was made to allow him to stay and he was given a home. He became a thane. The fact that he then left does not change the fact that he is one of us. He must answer to our laws no matter where he is. He is Fae.”
“Oh.” They were claiming him as their own? Dariya found herself taken aback by that. She had to think about what he'd told her. She knew all the terms of the Golden Concord and could not only recite them, she could place any action within their framework and decide whether it complied or not. Now what had seemed so clear cut a moment before, had become frayed. She wasn't sure if J'bel was right or not, but the simple fact that she wasn't sure suggested he had an argument on his side. Something else occurred to her though all the gifted people heading into G'lorenvale were going to be expected to live by their rules. That was expected. But those rules would continue to bind them even if they later decided to leave? That wasn't. She dou
bted any of them understood that. Still, even if it was explained to them they would still agree to the deal. In the end they had no choice.
“So, I need to spend some more time here, dealing with these damned pigeons?” She turned to more practical matters to take her mind off the other questions. “And the demented Walkertons? How long?”
“How long indeed?” J'bel shrugged. “We don't know and we can't help.”
“We can't advise you on Baen's situation because we haven't been told. We cannot be involved in any way with his pigeons or the trees. That would constitute interfering in the running of Grenland – a clear violation of the Concord. Baen can do it because he is also of your people, and though it surely breaks many laws, it's not our place to enforce the laws of this land.”
“At the least I'm told it will be a couple of weeks. It could be much longer. And there is a chance he might not return at all.”
