He smiled. “Thank you for this one.”
She put a kiss on his cheek, each time getting a little closer to his mouth. “I want to take you somewhere tomorrow. Meet me at the reservoir, and I will shift us there.”
She sank a delve-pattern into his collar bone and topped it with a pattern to heal the nerves. Her hand lingered on his chest a little wistfully. With a grin, she vanished. Gabriel seized Void and returned to Jaden, undressing as he went into his bed chamber.
“Where do you go at night?”
He spun at the voice, his cloak dropping to the floor as he brought his hands up, but it was only Mikelle. She watched him from her chair by his dying fire with Coal on her lap.
“You’re gone every night. Where do you go?”
“To train.” Gabriel tried to dismiss her.
“With who?”
“No one.”
“Are you going to Arconia?”
“No, Mikelle,” he sighed as he walked to change. “Why are you even here?”
“I feed the cat in case you haven’t noticed, and he is positively starved for attention.”
“How do you know I’ve left?”
She held up her hand. “Wards on the door. I know when you’re here and with how many. Are you sure you’re safe?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he replied as he pulled a shirt on. He picked Coal up off her lap. “Go to sleep,” he said as he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Gerwin Graveyard was in ruins, as was much of Cendalisia. Cendalisia stood for several Ages, but time had wasted her away. Now only a small part of the city was inhabited, reclaimed by Northmen from the Reglajae.
Ryker and Pike walked silently with two Earth Mages in tow, casting lights on the grave markers. Most graves were set above ground in highly stylized stone tombs, but they belonged to the rich. The grave they sought belonged to a woman burned as a criminal. She would be buried without fanfare.
“There is a chance some o’ her bones have been compromised by fire,” Pike said quietly as he picked their path through the weeds.
“I can repair them,” Ryker replied. “I have no limitations.”
They walked silently to a section of buried graves, each marked with a single name. Fanning out, each one searched for a name or symbol that would lead them to Evony Mitexi. Even though Ryker still had a piece of her for the searchers-pattern, it would not work on a dead body.
This was the second day they spent searching. Gerwin Graveyard was much larger than Ryker remembered, and criminals and paupers had been buried haphazardly in two locations.
“My lord?” one of the Earth Mages asked after a few hours. “Was ‘Mitexi’ ever spelled with an ‘s’?”
Ryker made his way over to the small gravestone. “They did ne even get her name right. Ne wonder the kingdom fell. Pike!”
Pike made his way over with the other Earth Mage and looked at the inscription that plainly read ‘Mitesi’. He lifted clumps of dirt out with a pattern while the women set patterns to sift through the silt for any sign of bones.
It did not take long for small charred bones to appear. At first it was a few finger bones that gave way to a broken arm, but soon a skull could be seen, cracked and fractured from the heat and pressure. Ryker counted them off as they were pulled free. He would need as many as possible to make a functioning body.
The Earth Mages worked silently, their wills beaten out of them long ago. They did not even look for escape while out of the manor now. One by one they pulled the bones out of the grave, laying them on a sheet. Pike looked over their work, making a note of which ones were still missing.
Ryker had done this sort of thing many times through the Ages. He had dealt with every issue. Sometimes bones were missing, sometimes they were smashed and mixed, but he found a way to put them together. Bones could be regrown once he had blood beating through them, and years of practice taught him to recognize every fragment of bone. Though this Arch Mage was horribly broken, Ryker could put her back together by hand—which would take a while. It was an art.
“Where do we stand?” Pike asked, pocketing his hands.
“I think we have everything,” Ryker responded. “We are missing a few fragments but I can make them new.” He carefully gathered them up and shifted back to Atrox Manor.
Ryker stole away to solitude and laid her bones out on a table, arranging them accurately. There were hundreds of small fragments that he painstakingly went over and set beside their proper homes. It seemed he worked for hours before Nolen entered.
“When did y’ ac Maxine arrive?”
“A mug of wine ago. Am I interrupting?”
“Nay, nay. Have y’ found anything on Arch Mage Dorian?”
“I have exhausted the books we held. I fear the knowledge we seek is in Jaden, or possibly the library in Kilkiny.”
“As do I.”
“But I come on different business. I think now would be the best time to strike the Head Mage again.”
“I do like your forward-thinking.” Ryker clicked his cheek. “What do y’ propose?”
“You promised me the Anatolian throne if I brought you the Silex. Now is the time to remove Robyn Bolt and let me take what is mine.”
Ryker nodded. “How would y’ like her dispatched?”
“Poison. The same way my father poisoned her mother.”
Ryker looked up from a fragment of femur. “I read she died of a blood disease.”
“That is what people thought, but my father poisoned her, so my mother could succeed her. I could give her a small dose that will make her sick, and when the time is perfect, I can kill her.”
“Y’ come from a long line of forward-thinkers. I like it. Give me a few days, ac I will make the necessary plans.”
“Thank you,” he said with a respectful bow, leaving Ryker to his work.
Chapter 22
Gabriel was eager to meet Maxine that night. He still did not trust her, but she had never tried to harm him or cause him grief. She had done everything to make him comfortable around her—which was suspicious. It was exactly what he would do if he was luring someone into a trap.
He met her at the reservoir—still unclear how she made it into the castle—and she shifted him to a special location. He half expected to end up in an incanted room or behind disparage-shift wards, but she took them to a set of ruins.
“Where are we?” he whispered as he looked around. All around him were fallen structures, some retaining as much as three levels. Others were reduced to their foundations.
“Shalay Le’Inchanna.”
His head immediately snapped west. The mountains were not there. “I have been meaning to come to this side. What happened here?”
“We did,” she sighed. “After Echoveria fell, we hibernated for a few hundred years, woke and massacred Luxantine, hibernated and took over Shalay Le’Inchanna. The King wizened up in the end and ordered his army on us. There were more than just the five of us at that point. We destroyed the city and hibernated again to a time you refer to as the Mage Wars.”
He nodded as he looked around at the mass destruction. Despite the debris, they stood in a paved clearing. “Was this the palace?”
“It was.”
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Oh, an Age and a half, or so.”
He walked around getting his bearings. He extending a tendril-pattern to feel for anyone else nearby. It was the perfect place for an ambush, but only a few animals skittered around.
“I have something special to show you tonight,” she said and unbuckled her cloak, revealing a backless dress.
He holstered his hands. “As always, I’m impressed.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed with a smile. “Head Mage, you will make me blush, but the dress is not it. You will, however, want to remove your own cloak and coat, and shirt if you are comfortable.”
He chuckled and shucked the cloak and coat off, folding his arms over his shirt with a challenging look. She grinned
but said nothing.
“This is my very favorite Void pattern, as it was with most people.” She seized Void and set the pattern before him. “You may have read that high Classed Air Mages could fly—it is true, I can,” she paused and fueled it, “With this pattern, you can, too.”
There was a whisper of ripping silk, and suddenly two massive white wings spread from Maxine’s back.
Gabriel took a step back and raised his hands ready for battle, but held and stared. He had seen drawings of such things in old manuscripts but thought them to be fabrications of a creative mind. She gave them a little flap. They were white, but the edges and tips were deep red.
“See why it is my favorite?” she grinned. “It alters a transformation-pattern and selects just the wings to create. We call it the wings-pattern. There are several variations, but the feathers are my favorite. As you can see,” she pulled them in and extended one at a time, “I have full control.”
“I want to try,” he replied eagerly and laid the same pattern. Gabriel needed only one correction before he fueled it. His shirt pulled against his neck, and the fabric ripped down the back. A new weight suddenly bore on him. They were surprisingly light, and he immediately felt the connection his brain made with them, much like the tiger tail would.
Maxine gasped and put a hand over her mouth. He glanced at her as he flapped them back and forth slowly, but rather than surprised, she looked horrified.
He stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“The color,” she whispered.
He looked back. They were black. Dark as pitch. “Is that bad?”
She lowered her hand. “Wings reflect our deepest emotions. Most are white with a tinge of another color.”
“Am—am I wicked or evil?”
“No, you are tortured.”
He straightened his spine. “How so?”
She put a hand on his arm. “You spent a month in a Castrofax, Head Mage, I should have expected this.” She took up the edge of his massive wing and looked closely at it. “But I do like the black on white.” She stroked his jaw with an affectionate touch.
“Flying is complicated and dangerous. It would be better if you controlled Air to help with propulsion and manipulating currents, but we can still make it work. While up and down is no problem, when turning use your arms and legs. Be very careful if you are laying patterns while flying. It will alter your course. Our wings are strong enough to hold our bodies but not much else, so you cannot carry another person or great baggage.
“I am going to take you up first and we will glide back together.”
Gabriel grinned, stamped his foot, and threw himself into the skies with a Harlon-shot column of earth. His massive wings pumped him into the twinkling night sky as if the stars pulled him to them. A flash of red to his left announced Maxine as she cut a tight circle around him.
“A bit eager, are we not?” she called. “Try to bank left now.”
He obliged and felt the air move over him, whipping his shirt and hair. He had briefly tasted Air when touching the Silex, and it had been an enticing Element. This was as close as he could come to attaining it. “Bank right. Get in the habit of using your feet. Try it again.”
“Instinct tells me to use my arms.”
“Ha! Instinct. We will discuss more of that tonight. Use all limbs, but learn with the legs first.”
He listened to her instructions and tried several maneuvers, gently sailing through the air to feel the currents.
“Wind comes off the plains in the mornings, and mountains in the afternoons. Always know where you are when you intend to fly. Dark ground, like roads and some cities, create thermals of heated air that will take you higher.”
She talked him through several more movements and left him to feel the air himself. From here Gabriel could see a small town in the distance. Tiny fires illuminated the black landscape. He wanted to go upside down, but she said that was for another day.
“Try and land now,” she called, coming alongside him. “There are two ways. You can spiral down slowly, or you can reduce your altitude and flap as you land, like birds do.”
He opted for the second suggestion and made a decent running landing. Maxine alighted gracefully in one place to demonstrate how it should be done.
“Why are yours red?” he asked as he couched his wings above his head.
“Desire, of course.”
“What other colors are there?”
“Many. Gray for powerful, green for stable, purple for enlightened, yellow for fearless, orange for ferocious, blue for collected.” She shrugged a shoulder. “There are many variations, but they usually incorporate white which indicates a sense of practicality, happiness, and control. It has been a very long time since I saw all black.”
Gabriel seized Void and cut the pattern, returning to his normal state. “Are there other variations of transforming patterns?”
“You mean, you want claws and a tail? No, wings is the only one I know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I already have those,” he grinned.
“I hear you take the shape of a tiger. I trust you know my shape.”
“They call you the Leopard of Luxantine for a reason.”
She made a mocking cat’s meow and clawed the air. “You wanted to know more about Class Ten instincts. I think tonight is a good enough time. You will want to sit for this.”
He screwed his lips into a suspicious grin and perched against a wall.
“Class Ten Mages are built for breeding,” she began. “Our instincts are heightened, our desire is intensified, and we are incredibly fertile.”
“Explains a lot.”
She harrumphed. “Some Class Tens choose to contain their desire as you have done; others do not.”
“How fertile?”
“Every woman, every time.”
He tossed his hair out of his face and stared at the ground. ‘Nine women. Nine children.’
“We often produce twins.” She continued.
‘More than nine children?’ At best he expected two or three.
“I am sorry it had to happen that way,” she said quietly.
He broke his connection with the ground. “Can Void read minds now?”
“No, but I can read faces.” She stood before him, her slippers between his boots. “I hope you can fo’give yourself someday.”
‘So do I.’
“What part of you do I have left to heal?”
She had done a wondrous job stitching his nerves back together, but there was one place she avoided on purpose. He pulled his shirt off over his head.
Maxine brightened and intertwined her fingers, “Do you truly trust me?”
“I do.” Slowly, he turned his back to her. ‘I don’t.’
She touched him gently, skipping over his skin as she trailed a line. “May I look with a reveal-pattern first?” she asked with a wavering breath.
“I…I’m not sure you want to.”
“No, I do. I need to know.” A moment later his skin glowed nearly completely white, and she gasped. “You…how…how did you endure this?”
He knew without looking what kind of healed scars his back held. Nolen had beat him so hard he nearly flayed him. He brought in a Spirit Mage to heal the damage as best he could, and thrashed him again. That did not include the night on the pillory.
“I would not break,” he replied, clipping every word.
Her fingers traced marks to the small of his back where the raised muscle had protected the spine beneath. “There is a circular mark here.”
“Iron brand.” He replied.
She ran her finger along the hem of his trousers, pressing down ever so slightly but without prying. The lines extended past them, but not too drastically. Rather than beginning to heal, she put both hands on his hips and turned him around.
“Is this the mark that killed you?” She pointed to a star shaped scar. He nodded. “And this is where Nolen stabbed you in the dungeons?”
“You are
well informed.”
Her fingers alighted on his hip. “Knife?” At his nod she went to his side. “The spear that took you in the Battle of the Stars? And here, the arrow.” Her fingers went to the left side of his face where he had multiple cuts to his lips, cheek, chin, and eye. “Nolen. This was no way to break someone. How did you endure it?”
“I had someone to fight for.” He said it without thinking, and the sinking loss sagged his chest. She did not see the glisten rise to his eyes and mercifully turned him around to repair his back. He could feel the nerves mend, feel the air and heat, feel the true presence of her hand on skin. It was invigorating.
It only took her a few minutes, but he knew if she wanted, she could have done it in seconds. ‘What is your end game?’ Slowly, she dragged her fingers from shoulder to hip, then repeated it on the other side with her nails. Gabriel could not help but shiver.
He turned to face her. “Thank you,” he began, but she grabbed his face with both hands and pressed her lips to his. He did not think to react, letting instinct take over. Wrapping an arm around her slender waist, he pulled her closer. For a blessed moment, everything washed from his mind, and it was simply the two of them with no distractions.
She had been correct—Class Ten instinct kicked in. It was not the first time he noticed it, but this time was different. This time he did not fight it. He abandoned restraint and melded with her, the only Class Ten woman he would ever have.
She finally broke loose with a genuine smile and released her grip in his hair. “I hope to see you here again, Head Mage.”
“Call me Gabriel,” he whispered.
Her grin twisted as she tried to fight it. “I hope your dreams will be as sweet as mine, Gabriel.” She gave him a hot gaze, and with a flash of white eyes, she vanished.
He collected his clothes and shifted back to Castle Jaden. He felt no remorse, for it had not just been for pleasure, but for work. Twined around a finger was one of Maxine’s curly blonde hairs.
He alighted in his room and immediately stopped when he felt kinetic energy nearby.
“Half-dressed?” Mikelle asked. “What will it be tomorrow, just your boots?”
“Good night, Mikelle.” He strode into his bedchamber.
Unlocking Void (Book 3) Page 15
