Madness and Magic- The Seers' War

by Greg Curtis

  She wasn't sure how she felt about that. For that matter she wasn't sure how J'bel felt about it. But it would bring a measure of peace to the world, and some justice with it. And he like the rest of his people desperately wanted her uncle to pay for his crimes. For that alone he would have wed a stranger. He would probably have wed a tree!

  “What's not right?” The seamstress asked awkwardly, her mouth full of pins.

  “There's nowhere to put my guns!”

  “You're not supposed to carry weapons to a wedding, Girl.” The seamstress told her tiredly. And then she corrected herself. “Your Highness.”

  Dariya sighed. All week, ever since the announcement had been made and the invitations had gone out, people had been doing that. Trying to work out what to call her. She didn't know herself. Things had been so much easier when she'd worn a uniform. When all she'd had to do was worry about training a few recruits or riding the border.

  But she kept from snapping at the woman. She was just confused. Everyone was. The people had gone from having no King and no one to take his place and a war on the horizon, to having a Queen in their midst. One they'd never heard of. One who'd never issued a single decree in her life. And worst of all, one who was the daughter of Amberlee the Wicked. No one knew what to think, but given her mother’s notoriety they would have good cause to be worried.

  “I'm always armed,” Dariya told her. “I'm a rider with the Order of the Friends of the Golden Concord. I have to stand ready at all times.”

  “Not anymore,” the woman told her. “Now you're the Queen. Queen Dariya. And queens don't carry weapons. They have soldiers to do that for them.”

  “Balls!” Dariya cursed quietly. She didn't want that. Besides, this was likely to be a rather unusual wedding. There were already guests arriving. The advance guards for all the noble houses were already here, most of which she assumed would include assassins. Every one of the nobility wanted her dead. It was a pity for them then, that the wedding was being held in a small, remote city where they had no holdings instead of the capitol, and that security was being organised by the Fae.

  Security could be seen everywhere. The city gaol was already full as the wardens and the city guards stopped everyone entering Cedar Heights and checked them for weapons. They weren't even being arrested. Just locked away for the next two weeks. None of the Houses knew what to do about it. They'd never expected to have to face the Fae, and they couldn't just bribe or threaten the wardens to let their assassins and agents enter. Worse than that, they didn't know how to deal with magic. They simply didn't know how to get around it. Because magic was a joke. Or it always had been in Grenland. And now it was everywhere! How did you conceal a weapon from someone who didn't need his eyes to know it was there? And how did you murder someone who was protected by it? She almost felt sorry for them. But then most of them were probably trying to kill her before she married this new man they'd never heard of and made him their King – so perhaps she shouldn’t feel all that sorry!

  “Now be still your Highness, or I'll prick you.”

  “Fine!” Dariya sighed. This really wasn't right. Here she was, suddenly elevated to the station of Queen in Waiting and being told off by a seamstress!

  “May I interrupt?” A man's voice came from the stairs.

  Dariya turned to see her husband to be walk into the room, and she couldn't help but think that he looked remarkably calm for a man who was about to be married to someone he didn't really know. But he also looked handsome. Tall and regal. In fact, he looked like a King.

  “Of course your … Sir.” The seamstress bowed nervously.

  She wasn't alone in being nervous and confused around J’bel. Everyone was. No one knew what he was or how to address him. Was he a prince soon to be a King? Was he already their King? In which case they had to be absolutely obedient. Because kings were capricious and powerful. One word from the King and they could be swinging from a gallows. But he was also Fae and so couldn't be King. Everyone knew that. It was why they couldn't work out how to address him. And probably why he was spending most of his time hidden away in the Mission.

  “Please, it's just J'bel.” He smiled at the woman. “Especially when I've come to make your job a little harder.”

  “Harder?” The woman stared at him, and then looked at the parcel he was carrying. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. It also made a quiet clinking sound.

  “I'm afraid so,” he smiled. Then he handed her the parcel. “This is to go under the dress. It just arrived from the artisans.”

  “Under the dress?” The seamstress quickly started pulling off the twine and then unwrapping the paper until she discovered the mesh inside it. Then she stopped and stared.

  Dariya did too. It was a chain mail vest. Much like the ones she used to wear when she rode the border, save that this one had been taken in to fit her a little more snugly. Form fitting chain mail – that was new!

  “Ahh, J'bel, thank you. But it won't stop a bullet.” She hated to be critical of a gift, but she knew it wouldn't do what she needed. The chain mail would stop a knife, and if it had been covered in leather, an arrow too. But a bullet was an entirely different matter. And she was going to be standing in the centre of the city, in front of everyone. Her best protection lay in hoping that the guards and the wardens had done a good enough job in ridding the city of weapons and assassins both.

  “This one will,” he smiled some more. “We had our best enchanters working on it. It could take the full fury of a cannon at five paces. Nothings getting through this.”

  “Then thank you.” She could have argued. Despite all she'd seen Dariya still didn't completely trust magic. But it was armour of some sort and if it worked as he claimed, she would be pleased. Even if it wasn't her uniform or a good solid leather jacket.

  He was calm she noticed. Which was odd when he too was going to be in the firing line – until people spotted his golden skin and realised the implications. But then he was always calm. Relaxed. He didn't even seem to mind it when people sometimes called him Jeb. It wasn't his name. It had only been on the invitations because when people read it they instantly thought he was human and that he would soon be King Jeb. It was why so many people were coming to witness the wedding. And the more that came and witnessed it, the more would hear her speech. But if the name bothered him, he never let it show.

  “How are things going?”

  “Good. Four more Houses have sent their advance parties to the city and half a dozen more would be killers are disarmed and sitting in the gaol. Baen and the others are setting out endless enchantments, and the carpenters are making good progress on the stage. Things are running smoothly – with one or two minor exceptions.”

  “Minor exceptions?” She had to ask.

  “Millicent Walkerton wanted to prepare the food for the guests. Said it was her civic duty. We stopped that and asked her to do the flowers instead. Now the entire city centre is blooming. She even found a way to make flowers grow out of walls! The woman's gift is prodigious.”

  Dariya had to choke back laughter as she imagined the scene – but she didn't completely succeed. Half the city was already a forest and the other half was now a flower garden? She only wished she could see it for herself. But she had been locked away in the wizard's magical fortress and would remain there until the day of the wedding.

  “Well at least she's not cooking!” she replied, drawing a smile from J’bel.

  But really she thought, what was it with the Walkerton family? Baen kept talking about madness and magic running through their family, but surely no other family in the world was so cursed with those things. Not to the extent they were. They needed to be taken in hand. Not that that was her responsibility.

  “And how are you? With all of this?” She gestured around her, helplessly. “Because if it really upsets you, another member of the Fae could take your place.”

  “I am head of the Mission,” he told her. “And besides, it will be an honour
to be married to a Friend of the Order in whatever capacity.”

  “But does this interfere with your life? I mean, I never asked. But do you have a woman?” If he did, she couldn't imagine that if he did that woman would be very happy about things. “For me this is nothing. I'm saving my own skin and I never expected to marry anyway. But other people have lives.”

  “Nothing?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “I hope you will not be so cavalier about such things in the bed chamber!”

  “What?! But –?!” She started to splutter as the heat unexpectedly rose in her face. “I mean –!” Then she saw the laughter in his eyes.

  “You know, there's more than one way this can end. And I think I would make a good-looking widow!” she told him cheekily.

  “You would make a good looking anything,” he answered her. “But I think I'd prefer you as my wife.”

  Dariya blushed. She hadn't expected the compliment and for a moment it left her as giddy as a young girl. But she quickly controlled herself. “And you would almost make a perfect husband. But a perfect husband would know better than to watch his future being fitted for a dress.” Which, when she thought about it, didn't make a lot sense. But it was all she could think of. Especially when the heat was rising in her face again.

  “And you will make a perfect pin cushion if you don't stop moving!” the seamstress butted in. “Lady.”

  “Then I shall take my leave and join the others on patrol through the city.” J'bel announced. “I only came to bring you the chain mail.” He turned around and started walking back toward the stairs. But then he stopped and turned back to her. “But you really do look pretty in that dress.”

  With that he was gone and Dariya was left standing there, blushing like a silly little girl, and wondering just what had happened. Did he want this marriage to be something more than simply a show? And if he did, what did she do about it? Because she simply didn't know. Suddenly though, she was interested in finding out.

  Chapter Forty Three

  It was quiet in the warehouse. But Baen knew that that didn't mean anything. There might be no one working these days with half the city overrun by trees and the other half, flowers, but that didn't mean there was no one around. And the people they were hunting weren't the type who made a lot of noise. Baen studied the huge empty space carefully, checking for anyone who might be hiding behind the various crates.

  “You know you really need to speak to your great uncle,” Nyri told him quietly as she studied the warehouse with him.

  “What's he done this time?” But really, he already knew. It was Great Uncle Mortimer's mouth that was the problem. He simply couldn't keep it closed. And he'd undoubtedly said something he shouldn't have.

  “He keeps talking about babies.”

  “Babies?” That seemed odd.

  “Our babies,” she clarified. “He keeps saying they'll be little monsters like their parents!”

  “Oh!” Baen knew his great uncle was having problems. His future had been shaken to pieces and was only now starting to reform into something new. One that apparently involved him and Nyri having a family. But he was less worried about the future his great uncle was starting to remember and more worried by the fact that he was remembering one. If he was recovering, then so too were the Duke and Metea. That could be a problem.

  “Don't worry about it. He's just being contrary. I'm sure our children will be perfect little tykes!” He smiled cheekily at her.

  “You think we're having children?!” She turned and stared wide eyed at him.

  “Well, not right away. First, we want to enjoy ourselves a bit! It can take months or years of enjoyment before little ones come along. We can start tonight if you want!”

  Her stare suddenly turned icy. “And I suppose that's what you believe passes for wit?!” She told him coldly.

  Baen had to think for a moment as he realised she wasn't impressed by his attempt at humour and he was going to have to dig himself out of another hole. But then nobody was impressed by his wit lately. He seemed to have discovered a talent for upsetting people. “Have you met my family? That is wit for the Walkertons!”

  And the sorry truth was that it was. She'd met his Great Uncle Mortimer, his Aunt Millie and his Grandpapa. She surely knew they were difficult people. She'd also seen his Aunt Martha, so she also must know there was rampant insanity in the blood line. Given these facts, surely an unfortunate joke now and then shouldn't surprise her too much? Actually, he thought, he was doing quite well for his family.

  Nyri's answer was an untranslatable noise. One he preferred to remain that way. But really, it was her own fault. She was running in all directions herself lately. Each time he was reported as dead she seemed to fall to pieces around him. Now he was making poor jokes and she had turned icy? But what did he know? She was a woman. Men weren't supposed to understand them!

  Baen shook his head and then turned his attention back to the job at hand – rooting out assassins. He held his staff at the ready and advanced cautiously into the warehouse. Though he was heavily warded he still had to be careful. These were not simple brigands they were dealing with. They were skilled. And they didn't just use guns and knives. They had poisons and darts. Sometimes they set traps. There had been injuries, even when the city guards and wardens were patrolling in pairs and prepared for whatever was out there.

  As he advanced he kept casting an enchantment of hidden malice. It was one of the newer spells he'd been practising lately and caused anyone who had malice in their heart to give off a glow. In the darkened warehouse, he thought it would help. Though of course like all magic it had it limits. The glow would not show through solid objects, so those affected could still hide from them. And those who did glow might not be assassins. Some ordinary people had black hearts too. He'd discovered that when the Mayor had walked within range of the spell. By the Lady did that man hate him! Especially when he smiled politely!

  Three days to go, he told himself. Only three more days and then this would be over. Things could go back to how they'd been. He might even be able to start selling books again. Though that seemed unlikely.

  Nyri abruptly pointed at a purple glow in the distance behind a pile of crates. Actually, he could see a purple glow and a dark red one. Two people. One of them was filled with hatred and death, the other with just the usual sort of malice.

  “Up and out you two!” he called to the pair hiding behind the crates. “Time to go to gaol for a few days. Because you aren't getting away.”

  “Bastard!” one of them – a women yelled at him, and then shot a blast of lightning straight at him.

  Fortunately, his staff caught it. It had a brand-new syphon spell on it that absorbed hostile magic. With it nothing could hit him. No elemental magic anyway. But the fact that a spell had been thrown did mean they had a spellcaster of some sort to deal with.

  “That's not going to work!” he called to the woman, even as Nyri threw her spear at the crates she was hiding behind. It smashed into them and a heartbeat later they exploded in a shower of sparks and black smoke even as her spear flew back to her hand. It was a powerful weapon she was wielding.

  But the woman wasn't bothered and her answer came in the form of a charging hell hound breathing fire.

  Baen froze for a moment when he saw the beast racing toward him, before casting one of his most basic enchantments – force. One simple gesture and a heartbeat later the beast was hurled back toward its summoner, something she clearly hadn't prepared for.

  Suddenly there was shouting and screaming from behind the cloud of black smoke that had once been a pile of crates, and he guessed the woman was having to deal with the monster she had called. She hadn't been ready for that.

  It gave him time to cast his own attack. Baen gestured and sucked all the air from where they were hiding, creating a vacuum.

  Moments later there was no more smoke and no crates either. Just two soot covered figures collapsing to the ground, choking as they struggled for breath,
and a hell hound already dying. The battle was over.

  Or at least he had thought it was. Without warning the heavy wooden floorboards under his feet abruptly tore themselves free from the joists and started hitting him. Unfortunately, none of his wards were designed to protect him from angry timber!

  Shite!” Baen danced back quickly, but not quickly enough, and took several nasty blows before Nyri threw her spear again and the timber vanished – along with the floor. But by then the woman had countered his enchantment of vacuum and he could see the pair starting to get up again.

  So he smashed them again. Baen pulled together a wave of Force and threw it at the assassins. It was a hasty cast, nothing more than a wave of force tearing out of his staff, but it was effective. Even before they'd made it to their feet, the women were tossed into the air and then thrown into the far wall. Hard enough that he heard them cry out, just before the wave of Force came hurtling back toward him, presumably reflected by some ward.