She glanced at him again. His face was in the book, but his eyes did not move. Quietly, she reached a hand out and gently gripped his forearm. His head snapped up, and he inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I was elsewhere.” He loosened his collar and seemed to realize the sleeves of his shirt were in the wrong place, so he hastily rolled them up mid-forearm. Mikelle noticed this was something he always did, and she finally understood why. He could not stand anything touching his wrists where the Castrofax once lay, and she often saw him strike a finger down his neck to make sure it was unbound. Mikelle was certain there was much going on in that head no one was aware of.
He may put on a bold face, but he was still wounded.
Chapter 2
Some people saw Atrox Manor as a refuge, a monolith to document the architecture of the Third Age, a hideaway perhaps, or even a prison. Ryker Slade saw it as home. In the height of his day it was filled with his followers, bustling with activity as they slowly took down the kingdoms to raise their own. Nowadays the manor was quiet. The main inhabitants were pretty Mages who saw to his orders, plucked from their homes and transplanted in his. He had taught them early on to not make a fuss.
His only guest was a quiet man who could be easily overlooked if he wished. Arch Mage Pike Bronwen was a brilliant man, a Creator, and wielder of Earth, Spirit and Void in a Class Ten. He rarely used Void except to travel. Earth was his best and most valuable Element. Pike was their defender in battle and the Creator of the Castrofax, Excellyons, and a dozen other objects of Elemental manipulation. While stories said Ryker made the Castrofax, it was actually Pike acting on Ryker’s idea.
Ryker strode into the great room, bombarded by the sudden glare the snow kicked up into the wall of windows. He blinked as he took a seat near the fire. Pike sat not far away with a set of thumb rings in his hand, twisting strings of Earth into them. Ryker thought of him as an excellent vintage of wine: he got better with age. He was handsome and rugged, with a neatly trimmed goatee flecked with white, dark eyes behind a heavy brow, and a constant collected demeanor. Pike had an arsenal of a thousand patterns and the strength to make them efficient. Each year he added to them.
“Have y’ ne found a torc yet?” Ryker asked and clicked his cheek.
Pike put a hand on his neck. “No, I have no’ made it t’ Aidenmar.” Aidenmarians of noble class distinguished themselves with a metal choker that almost touched in the front, braided or hammered, or set with precious stones. While it sometimes resembled a Castrofax, Pike had built a failsafe release into them and did not fear metal around his neck. “I migh’ go tomorrow.”
“Do y’ think your strength has returned?”
“Oh, aye, nearly.”
Nearly two months previous, Ryker had finally summoned the tools needed to raise a spirit. While he was exceptionally powerful in Spirit and Void, he needed unlimited power of all the Elements to do it. When the Gabriel boy fetched the Silex for him, he had the tools. It had taken him a month to find the bodies of Maxine and Pike, and with the bones as an armature, he could build muscles, ligaments, veins, organs, skin and even hair. As soon as a body was built, all he needed was to summon their spirit from the grave. Maxine had come first and easily, taking to her new body with her legendary grace and power. Pike, at least a score older than she, had not recovered as quickly.
Maxine had left them after two weeks to return to her mansion, a white colossus hidden in the Gray Mountains. Pike’s home had always been Atrox Manor, and the men remained behind to further their research. In order to raise a spirit, Ryker needed the correct bones to lay the foundation, and he had no success finding his remaining two Arch Mages. The only notation he could find was mention of Evony Mitexi who fell in Cendalisia, but there was no mention of a grave. Of Dorian Lark, his destroyer, there was nothing.
Pike clinked the rings into a pocket and withdrew a brooch from another, always working out new patterns. What he lacked was creativity, but Ryker supplied ideas when able.
“I tested the wards on Castle Jaden last night,” Ryker offered. Pike raised his eyes. “The boy added new ones.”
“Paranoid, tha’ one.”
“There is an unfinished wing in the south mountain dug straight int’ the rock, walled off, ac abandoned without much warding. I hoped the boy hadn’t found it, but he did ac set up a dozen new wards.”
“What kinds?”
“The kinds what connect t’ a person ac alert them when touched. No sneaking in there.”
“Doesn’t Maxine have a ring t’ get pas’ wards?” Pike asked.
“Nay, she says it was lost when she was mummified. Lost int’ someone’s pocket.”
Pike scratched his head. “All I could fashion would be another Unwind. I don’ know how the Creator did it.” Despite being brilliant, Pike had his limits, and contrary to popular myth, Pike had not created the Medallion of Unwind.
“Would y’ ring par Anabel?”
Pike drew strings of Earth from his chest and sank them into the floor, snapping two between his fingers. Somewhere a bell tinkled in the distance. They heard steps on the staircase moments later. Anabel entered in a loose dress of rust, a pinched expression on her face. She was a Fire Mage with brown hair falling to her collarbone, young enough to still be pretty but wise enough not to provoke them. Ryker pulled her out of her home in Aidenmar to be his cook, and though she tried to poison him at least once, she was excellent behind the stove.
“Tea,” Ryker stated. “Bring four cups.”
Her face was blank, and she nodded her head. Ryker knew she pinched her lips to not spill a tirade. She left behind two young children and a teen, claiming their father had died a year before. Unfortunately, she was still not broken.
“Will Maxine join us?”
“She ac Nolen, I think.” Ryker pulled threads of Spirit from his chest and laid a pattern that he quickly shot through the wall southward. Maxine appeared a few minutes later, towing the Air Mage with her.
Maxine was the loveliest woman Ryker had ever seen. She had a long slender figure, full hips and ample bosom with a pretty heart-shaped face. She was lithe and winsome, graceful and elegant, and the absolute best manipulator the Ages had birthed. Her color of choice was red, and she was almost always draped in a shade of it.
“Good morning,” she said in a smooth tone, her accent slight. “Pike, how well do you fair today?”
“Better, my dear,” Pike smiled and stood to give her a bow as was ancient Aidenmarian custom. “I have fashioned you a new bead.” He withdrew a cloth from his pocket and slowly unwrapped a dark green bead no larger than a pea.
“Delightful,” she smiled radiantly and unclasped the back of a gold necklace. “And Ryker, how fairs my lord?”
“Well,” Ryker nodded, watching her thread the bead onto the necklace that already contained two. “Nolen, what do you have for me?”
The ex-prince was almost dwarfed by Maxine’s power. The woman could enter a room and make one forget there was anyone else. However, while a weak Class Five in Air, Nolen had proven he had the skills and tenacity to capture, enslave, and break a Mage twice his Class. Nolen was a handsome man, and had he not been, he would not be in Maxine’s company. She had been sure to dress him in the best clothes that befit one of her consorts, and today he wore a tall-collared black coat trimmed in green.
One of Nolen’s fingers lay marked in the center of a book, and he lifted it when Ryker spoke. “I recovered a book that states Arch Mage Evony was captured in Cendalisia in 3213—”
“When?” Ryker cut in. “That is almost 300 years after the Mage Wars. I thought she died a year after them.”
“No, tha’ was me,” Pike muttered discontentedly.
Maxine shot him a consoling look, well aware Pike had been captured after the Mage Wars by Jaden and tortured to death.
“The book states she appeared in Cendalisia and began arbitrarily tearing the city down, but she was taken by their Mages. Upon disc
overing her true identity, she was burned at the stake, and her bones entombed in the…” he flipped the page, “Gerwin Graveyard.”
“Is there anything left of Cendalisia?” Maxine asked Ryker.
He shook his head. “It is ruins, like all the others.”
“At least we have a place t’ look,” Pike replied. Anabel entered carrying a tray of porcelain and began mixing their cups.
“My dear Maxine, I have a proposal for y’,” Ryker said as she took a cup. “I want y’ t’ get int’ Jaden.”
Nolen made a scoffing noise, but Maxine only smiled. “Through the front gates?”
“Do they know your face? Portraits are never quite accurate ac fade.”
She grinned wickedly. “And what would you have me do?”
“Politely introduce yourself t’ the Head Mage.”
“Oh, I would like that. Nolen has told me so much of him.” She smiled over her teacup, formulating plans behind her cold blue eyes.
“I want t’ know how the castle fairs under his control, how many people are within, ac what they know of us. While you’re inside, try ac snag a piece of the Head Mage ac tell him we send our greetings.”
“I could leave immediately.” She straightened and set her cup down.
“Just don’ get captured,” Pike offered.
“Aye, you’re alone if y’ do.”
She stood and swished her red skirts defiantly. “Dear men, I can talk my way out of anything.” She paid each of them a fond glance. “Keep Nolen busy while I am gone.”
She seized Void, and her tightly curled blonde hair turned white and seemed to lift up at the ends. Her eyes devoid of color, she laid a black pattern and vanished.
Ryker took a sip of his tea and looked up. “Nolen, see if y’ can find maps of Cendalisia in the library that mark the graveyard.”
Chapter 3
“I do not have time to sit for a portrait,” Gabriel stated as he strode the halls with Councilman Galloway. “I have a mountain of books to read.”
“It is customary t’ have one painted in the first few months of your rule,” Galloway replied with a matter-of-fact tone. Dressed in a blue velvet coat belted in leather, he had a matching hat that sloped to one side. “I already have an artist set up in your sitting room.”
‘What you mean to say is you want a portrait painted now because you do not think I will live to see the next year.’ “I was planning to go to Anatoly this afternoon.”
“Humor me.”
“Can I at least be painted reading?”
“No, but I will have someone hold a book open, so you can read while he sketches.”
“Very well,” Gabriel sighed. “When will I be permitted to wear hats as ridiculous as yours?”
“My Head Mage, you could not pull the look off.”
They made their way to Gabriel’s quarters, finding Secondhand Lael behind his desk in the anteroom as always. The circular chamber was made of dark wood and covered floor to ceiling with books, relics, and portraits of previous Head Mages. In the center sat Lael’s mahogany desk neatly organized. He stood and gave Gabriel a nod.
“Mage Shayleen made a marvelous discovery,” he said and opened a palm to gesture behind them. A boy-slender girl stepped from a set of books on the wall and gave Gabriel a beaming smile. The Arconian had agreed to accompany Gabriel in order to better learn his language and to study in Madison Library. In the past months, she had blossomed into an astute girl with a knack for speed reading. An Anomaly, a Mage born to a family of non-Mages, she and Gabriel shared a title.
“I am surprised you are not covered in paper cuts and dust,” Gabriel smiled, extending a hand to kiss hers.
She tittered. “I found the pattern you have been questing for; the shift-pattern.” She unfurled a rolled scroll. Sketched in precise images was the traveling pattern. Gabriel beamed as he took it up and raced over the pictures.
“This is brilliant; well done, Shayleen.”
She grinned and gave him a small curtsey, and Galloway expertly steered him towards the sitting room.
Robyn twirled the ring on her finger as she listened patiently to Ellian her palace keeper, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Gabriel fashioned the ring to spin an interlocking pattern that would summon him were she in danger. She seriously considered using it. It had been days since she spoke with Aisling about the state of her silver mines, and still nothing from Gabriel.
“I have sent some of the kitchen staff home for the winter, and they will remain until spring when they can sow their fields and….”
The guard at the door straightened, the first sign someone was in the hallway, and Robyn eagerly—but collectedly—glanced at the door. Gabriel never knocked, so if the door burst open, it was him. He was bound to be skewered by her guards at some point.
The door flew open, and the guard grabbed his halberd but paused when he saw white. Gabriel strode in, a beaming smile on his perfect face, swathed in white and silver like a skyward star. Robyn rushed to meet him, embracing him tightly and kissing his cheek. “You stayed away too long.”
“I know,” he agreed and released her. He looked drawn around his eyes, but his smile was genuine.
“How long can you stay?”
“Until tomorrow morning, unless I am summoned back.”
She grabbed his hands, noting the sliver-thin rings he now wore. A few on each hand, each one linked to a ward in Castle Jaden.
“Greetings, Mistress Ellian, I fear I have interrupted you.”
Ellian stood, a stout older woman with a perpetually intense gaze. “No interruption, Head Mage. I will leave you two be. Mistress Marya will be so happy to hear you are staying for meals. I will go tell her forthwith.”
Knowingly, the guard followed and stood outside the door. There was no one safer for his Queen to be with.
“Are you well? It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you,” Robyn said, adapting her old contractions.
“It’s a lot of work leading a race of people,” he chuckled and tossed his black waves out of his eyes. “So many meetings with so many people that want so much from me.”
“And I thought I was the only one who felt that way.” He smiled but didn’t mean it. She gripped his hand tightly. “How are you, really?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You endured a great taxing ordeal, and it’s only natural to still feel the effects of it.”
He looked away. “I still don’t know what you mean.”
She sighed inwardly. Rather than prodding, she stood and filled two goblets of hot wine from the fire.
“Don’t you have servants to do that?” he grinned.
“I cooked in a more primitive range for two years—I think I can handle pouring wine.” She handed him a mug and sat close beside him.
“Do you ever…ever wish we had never left that cottage?” he asked quietly.
She saw the regret in his eyes. “All the time. But we have duties elsewhere.” So much of her wished she could wake up every morning and have him all to herself like she used to. She wished even more to keep him beside her. “Speaking of which, I have a favor to ask of you.”
He raised a brow as he sipped his wine.
“The Rincarel Silver Mine is empty.”
He made a thoughtful humming noise. “I know a pattern to find silver. I’ll strike another load.”
“I couldn’t thank you enough.”
“You could marry me.”
For one moment so fleeting she may have imagined it, she felt unsettled at the idea. “When?”
“When I kill Ryker and everyone he’s raised from the dead.”
“You have no timeline for that. I could be old and barren by then.”
“Yes, but I need to focus on fighting and not playtime with Robyn.” If he noticed her blush, he did not say. They sat in silence as he stared into the fire. She saw his eyes glaze over, an increasing occurrence. She poked him to bring him back to the real world. Gabrie
l’s eyes flickered, and he said, “Do you know how much granite the City has right now?”
She sputtered for a moment. “Why—yes; 100,000 tons.”
He frowned and flicked his fingers, counting. “That should be enough.” He downed his mug and stood. “Let me take Lace into the mountains and see if we can find any silver before supper.”
She grabbed his wrist, gripping tightly, and she pulled herself up. But her ascent was abruptly stopped when Gabriel wrenched his arm away with a sudden gasp. She fell back into the couch wide eyed and astonished. Gabriel shook his hand and paced a single tight circle as he sucked air through his teeth. Remorse painted over his face.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Are you wounded?” she asked.
“No, no it’s not that.”
She stood swiftly with a concerned expression. “What is it then?”
He extended a flat hand as if silencing her. “It’s nothing.” He closed his eyes and swallowed. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
With that, he strode from the room.
Lace looked much better than she had that morning, so Gabriel did not feel as bad taking her into the cold mountains. Thankfully, he returned triumphantly with a chunk of silver from a lode twenty miles south of the Rincarel Mine. Robyn showed no animosity towards his outburst when she saw the glimmering metal. However, she had changed her garments, and the Eagle Crown was on her head when he arrived.
“The Prince of Anatoly arrived in the harbor this morning and requests an audience with me,” she explained as she adjusted the sweeping wings of the crown. A maid fastened a string of pearls around her neck, and Gabriel inwardly shuttered, striking a finger down his own, making sure it was free.
“Would you have me attend?”
“I would.”
He turned to the mirror and straightened his coat. Robyn stood, bathed in a flowing dress of deep copper. She wore it deliberately to match the color of the Eagle Throne with its sweeping wings, giving her the illusion of grandiose majesty. He offered his bent arm to escort her to the throne room, and she took it very gently.
Unlocking Void (Book 3) Page 2
