The Queen of Mages

by Benjamin Clayborne

Dardan had grown so used to the rural tranquillity of Stony Vale that he was shocked to find a battle in progress there. There were royal soldiers everywhere, that much was evident, but they seemed to be outnumbered by swarms of townsfolk. It looked as if the whole of Stony Vale had converged on the square. And there was a Warden—no, two of them, but one seemed to be keeping out of the fighting. The other one—was that Garen he was holding? And there was Amira, facing them down! What in the black spirits was going on?

  When the dark-haired Warden put his sword to Garen’s throat, Dardan dismounted and drew his own blade. He’d been lurking just beyond the square, unnoticed, and left his horse there. He watched as the Warden backed toward a wagon at the edge of the square, which had another soldier sitting in the driver’s seat—but that man’s attention was on the battle as well.

  Dardan crept forward, praying his footfalls would remain unheard. And then Amira saw him and gasped. Dardan lunged forward, because the Warden had noticed that Amira had seen something, and he began to turn. Only because he was slowed by having to drag Garen with him was Dardan able to strike in time—Caretaker, don’t let my sword hit the boy—and knock the Warden’s blade away.

  He regretted having to shove Garen to the ground, but he needed him clear of the Warden’s grip. With a shout and a lurch Dardan barrelled toward the surprised Warden, flashing his steel every which way, surprising the Warden—and himself—with his ferocity. But the Warden was clearly much older, and much more experienced. Within seconds, Dardan realized that his moves were being easily anticipated.

  The Warden might have overpowered him given enough time, but instead he reversed a slash, nicked Dardan’s sword arm, and then turned and ran for his horse. Dardan had tried to jerk away from the strike, and stumbled to one knee. The pain came on slowly, and he clamped his hand over the wound. Only when the Warden had ridden away did he turn to survey the scene.

  Amira ran to him, arms outflung. Dardan scooped her up with his uninjured arm, into a short, passionate embrace. Too soon he lowered her down, and together they faced the square.

  Garen stood now, massaging his wrists with hands that looked like they’d been scalded. Dardan would ask about that later. Angry townsfolk thronged the square, and there were many motionless bodies on the ground. Some of them were royal soldiers, but a sickeningly large number wore common dress.

  The soldiers who remained standing had thrown down their swords in the face of a swelling mob of townsfolk wielding brooms, shovels, wood axes, and kitchen knives. Among the small cluster of soldiers, who stood pressed against the wall of the inn, was the other Warden, a man with white hair. Dardan recognized him as they drew closer; they’d met at the summer ball. He fished deep down into his memory for the man’s name. Iris, or something.

  Dardan saw Constable Adams frantically trying to calm the angry townsfolk while Magistrate Baxter stood beside him, arguing with the Warden. Hugh Hamm was there too, holding a longbow. Those in the crowd who looked at him did so with awe on their faces. What was that about?

  The crowd parted for Dardan and Amira as they approached, letting them get in close to the trapped soldiers. Garen stayed close by Amira’s side, Dardan noticed. He ignored that and focused on the magistrate. “What happened?”

  Baxter cut off his tirade and looked at Dardan. His face was red from exertion and anger and fear. “You picked a fine time to show up!”

  “He saved Garen’s life,” Amira spat at the magistrate. She turned to Dardan. “These Wardens came looking for us. Edon sent them to recruit mages.”

  “I’ll deal with you next,” Baxter snapped, clearly near the end of his rope. But Dardan had no care for the man’s state; he wanted answers and he wanted them now.

  Amira gripped his hand tight. “The Wardens knew who we are.” She glanced at Constable Adams. “And I’d wager he does now, too.”

  Baxter looked at Adams. “What? What is she talking about?”

  Adams’s eyes darted from Amira to Baxter. “I—they—”

  Dardan was glad to see the man flustered. He drew himself up, ignoring the throb in his arm. “We concealed our true identities, but now that must end. I am Lord Dardan Tarian, Count of Hedenham.”

  Several of the townsfolk gasped, and a few bowed or curtseyed all of a sudden. A few looked skeptical. Baxter’s eyes bulged, and Adams somehow looked even more craven. Even Garen gaped at them. Among them all, only Warden Iris stayed impassive. If he was frightened by being unarmed and surrounded by hostile townsfolk, or intimidated by being in the presence of a count, he didn’t show it.

  “Now all of you be quiet,” Dardan ordered in his best imitation of his father’s voice of command. He heard how his own voice sounded like his father’s, and his heart was suddenly battered by a mixture of anguish and pride.

  As if reading his thoughts, Amira murmured, “You knew?”

  “I heard of it in Seawatch. We will speak later. Tell me what happened here.”

  In a rush, Amira recounted the day’s events: the arrival of the Wardens and soldiers, the confrontation at the inn, Warden Iris’s visit to the cottage, and what she’d found in the square. Hugh Hamm blushed when she described how he had heroically—foolishly, Dardan thought—attacked the soldiers, to try to save Garen.

  “You are lucky to live in a town willing to stand up to armed men,” Dardan said to Hugh. “But what you did is a crime at the very least, and the king’s men will not likely let it be.” The big woodsman’s face fell at this, and several of the men and women standing near him seemed affronted by Dardan’s suggestion that Hugh had done something wrong.

  He had no intention of helping justice find Hugh Hamm, of course; by any moral standard, Hugh had done right, protecting Garen from the unjust threat of death imposed by Warden Penrose, in the name of the king. But Edon would not likely see it that way.

  Baxter’s whole aspect had changed by now. He nodded his head subserviently. “M’lord, what’s to be done with them?” He jerked a thumb at Warden Iris and the five soldiers with him. A couple of the men had taken minor injuries. Warden Iris was unscathed.

  “What was his role in all this?”

  “He stayed out of the fight, and when he saw it was going badly for them he shouted at the soldiers to throw down their weapons, which they did.”

  Dardan looked at Iris. “You surrendered?”

  “I saw no reason to countenance further loss of life. Excuse the apparent cowardice, but this plan to coerce m’lady by threatening the blacksmith boy was of Penrose’s devising, not mine. I objected, but he was my commander.”

  “So you were simply doing as he ordered, when you knew it to be wrong. You were correct; that is cowardice.”

  Iris stared back uncowed. “The dead cannot make things right.”

  Amira gazed oddly at the Warden. Dardan sighed. Another thing to ask her about privately. “Enough. Strip them of their armor and take them to the cell in the magistrate’s office. I will decide what to do with them later.”

  Baxter, Adams, and several eager townsmen surrounded the soldiers and helped remove all their armor. Despite his designation as the enemy, they handled the Warden’s silvered plate with extra care, and their eyes passed reverently over the sword-and-scales sigil on the pauldrons.

  Dardan’s arm had begun to throb, but he had more to deal with first. There were two or three wounded soldiers still alive, too weak or injured to have been gathered to Warden Iris. One of them was clearly doomed, his gut a bloody mess; he might last a day or two. Dardan told the flock of townsfolk following him that the young soldier should be made comfortable somewhere. Henry Salton, the innkeeper, magnanimously volunteered his rooms for the injured. The other soldiers could be nursed back to health, although one of them, a black-haired lad even younger than Dardan, would probably have a lame leg for the rest of his life.

  Several townsfolk had been injured, too, but they’d already been whisked away to their homes to be treated by family. The town had no surgeon, only a few goodwives who
had experience dealing with the injuries common to small towns everywhere. Dardan could do nothing for those injured folk.

  That left the worst. There were half a dozen dead townsfolk in the square—no women or children, the Caretaker be thanked, but that hardly made it better. These dead would be dealt with according to old rituals. Their bodies would be carried up the slopes of Caddair Tuol, to be consecrated and buried beneath cairns, to rejoin the earth and pass into memory.

  The bodies of the dead soldiers, by contrast, were heaped in a pile on the road leading out of town. They might end up retrieved by the nearest garrison, to be given a proper burial. Dardan felt a twinge of responsibility toward them, poor lads under a brutal commander, but he had other priorities just now.

  He repaired to the inn’s common room, and none other than Helen Walker helped clean and bandage his arm. Amira’s hands still looked a little red; she explained that she’d used her power in a hurry to cut Garen’s bonds, and the heat of it must have scalded her. Someone brought her a basin of cold water to soak her hands in.

  Dardan was relieved to be with her again, but they still needed to have a private chat. “Please excuse us for a few minutes,” he said. Everyone except Amira headed for the door. If a count wanted an inn’s common room to himself, he could have it, as Count Barnard had demonstrated in Tyndam.

  His wife met his eyes only for a moment, then looked away. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’ll heal. And you? Uninjured?”

  Amira nodded. Still she would not look at him.

  “I suspect you already know what I will say.”

  Now she met his eyes, and already he could see a little of her fierceness rising to the surface. He waited patiently.

  After a long minute she sighed. “It was not my fault that—”

  He slammed a fist on the table, startling her into silence. “You did not make them come here and threaten Garen, is that what you meant to say? Indeed, it is true; those men are responsible for their own actions. But you must be a great fool to think that you bear no blame for those dead out there. Imagine if you had kept your silence, kept your power concealed from all except Garen and the Walkers, as we had originally agreed. Those dead out there might still live.”

  “They already knew who we were!” she said. “We didn’t alter our given names. If Warden Penrose showed up asking after an ‘Amira’ and a ‘Dardan,’ do you think Constable Adams would have magically forgotten us, even if he had no idea about my power?”

  “Then it was folly to stay in this village at all,” Dardan countered. “I know how important it is to you that you found someone else like you—by the Caretaker, I’ve been just as isolated all this time, surrounded by strangers. And so you insisted we stay here, that you and Garen might learn about your power from one another. Was it worth the deaths of half a dozen of Garen’s friends and neighbors? Is your happiness so much more important than their lives?”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes, and Dardan felt guilt at saddening her. She did not look away now, not even when the tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks. “I would think my happiness would be important to you, my lord.”

  That last had a sting to it. Dardan took her hand. “Amira, my dear. My love. I say what I say because it needs being said. I do not take pleasure in causing you misery. Far from it.” He heard his own voice waver, and choked down the lump in his throat. “But you do have this power now, and you must consider what can come of it. You helped this town, and for that they will be ever grateful, but you also brought death and ruin upon them. It would be monstrous to take credit for the one and reject responsibility for the other.”

  For this, she had no response. Her hand slowly slipped from his.

  There was nothing else to say on this topic. Amira had stopped her argument, and had not fled in a fury, which Dardan was coming to learn meant that she knew he was right. And over the course of a minute, a transformation occurred: she scrubbed away her tears, the color faded from her cheeks, and even her posture straightened. “We must leave at once, then, before Penrose returns with reinforcements.”

  Dardan nodded. “I learned other things in Seawatch, besides the news of my—my father.” The lump in his throat returned for a moment, but he fought it away again. “I contacted, through a roundabout method, Duke Eltasi. He will see us if we come, and hear our plea.”

  Amira’s eyes sparkled, with an inner fire Dardan had missed. “He will help us?”

  “I think it likely. But first we have to get there. You may need to demonstrate your power for a few people. I seem to recall you have few concerns about that.” He knew it had been a little cruel to say that last, but he could not help it.

  Amira in response pursed her lips at him. “Thank you for reminding me,” she said flatly. “What if Duke Eltasi doesn’t help us?”

  Dardan shrugged. “Then we move on. South, perhaps. There are other dukes. We will likely be on the run for quite a while, but with your power, it will be very difficult for Edon to stop us.”

  “Unless he tries to hurt someone like Garen again. Like Garen…” She trailed off, looking at the window. “He should come with us.”

  Dardan blinked at her. “For his own safety, I suppose that makes sense. I hadn’t considered that anyone else might join us. But will he want to leave?”

  “You haven’t spent much time with him. He longs to see the world. Certainly he loves it here, his friends and family and all, but he knows it is a small village in a big realm.”

  “You’re right,” Dardan said, letting a little heat seep into his voice. “You’ve spent quite a lot more time with him than I have.”

  Amira caught his meaning, and blushed a little. “Nothing untoward has happened. I promise. We are simply… two apprentices with no master.”

  “I believe you,” Dardan said, “but I will have to ensure that he does not have the wrong idea.”

  ———

  They found Garen out in the square, surrounded by townsfolk, answering the same questions over and over: Hadn’t he been frightened? What did the soldiers want? Why didn’t he just blow them up?

  The crowd parted when Dardan walked up with Amira at his side. “Garen,” he said.

  “Uh—m’lord,” he said, going uncertainly to one knee. “M’lady.”

  “No!” Amira said. “Never that. Not you. Do you understand?”

  He rose again. “Yes. Amira.” He eyed Dardan. “M’lord,” he repeated tentatively.

  Damn the girl, what was she thinking? She was a noble, and Garen was a commoner. Whatever power they shared was no reason to suddenly dispense with their stations. Could she not go five minutes without some impulsive act?

  “I think you know that you cannot stay here,” Dardan said to Garen. “Warden Penrose knows who you are, and will likely return with an entire regiment. Even you would have trouble fighting them all off.”

  “I—I understand. I think. My family…”

  “There is little to be done. I know that your work for Master Orville helps provide for them, and they will lose that income. I can donate some of our gold to help make up for it.” Dardan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was silly; Garen was not even a year younger than him. But like all Garovans, he’d been born and bred to respect—and obey—the nobility. He could not let Amira forget that, either. “You ought to come with us. Best pack your things and be ready to go at once.”

  Garen took several long breaths, then straightened himself up and nodded. “I will. M’lord.” He turned and ran off toward the Walkers’ house.

  “What about the soldiers?” Amira asked.

  Dardan had already given it some thought. The enlisted men could simply be set free, to make their way to the nearest garrison, and let the king’s army deal with them. He didn’t think they’d be likely to make trouble, or turn to banditry; they’d done nothing wrong and their superiors would gladly welcome back trained men who had been briefly detained.

  But the Warden was an entirely differe
nt story. “Excuse us,” Dardan said to the crowd of townsfolk that surrounded them, and led Amira over toward the magistrate’s office. When they had privacy again, he stopped and faced her. “I saw you staring at Warden Iris earlier.”

  She glared at him. “Must you suspect me of being faithless with every man I come across?”

  “Actually, I’d thought no such thing,” he said evenly. “But now that you mention it…”

  Now she looked mortified and furious, and he had to laugh. “I apologize, it was only a jest. What I meant was, is there something you had in mind for the Warden? From what was described of the battle, he seems to have avoided killing anyone, and tried to put a stop to it.”

  Amira looked away for a moment, still annoyed at him, but her response was calm. “He expressed regret for Penrose’s behavior,” she said. “What he said earlier, about making things right…”

  Dardan didn’t quite understand. The Warden would no doubt have useful information; they should at try least interrogate him. He shrugged and led his wife to the magistrate’s office.

  The office was one long chamber, with a pair of desks up in the front, pushed up against opposing wooden walls. In the back was an iron-barred cage, firmly bolted to the walls, containing Warden Iris and the other soldiers. Some of them sat on a hard wooden bench, but Iris stood straight, watching Dardan and Amira.

  Magistrate Baxter was there, and a few townsmen who were serving as temporary deputies. Constable Adams was missing, and Dardan did not mind one bit.

  “Count Tarian,” Baxter said, rising from his desk and bowing hurriedly when he saw them.

  “Magistrate. As I am not the count of Elsingham, by rights I have no authority over those soldiers. However, a wise and just man would have them escorted to the Seawatch road, and then let them make their own way. The nearest garrison is just outside the walls of Seawatch, and they will no doubt find a warm welcome there.”

  “That is… reasonable, m’lord.” In short order, the soldiers had been released from the cage and sent off with a party of townsfolk—twenty men, eager to volunteer, and including Baxter, to make sure that the soldiers met with no accident along the way. Some of the townsmen had lost friends or family today, and it would not do for them to seek revenge.

  Dardan asked Warden Iris to stay, and he obliged, waiting patiently until Baxter and the other men were gone. Dardan invited Iris to sit in the front of the office. Amira stood behind Dardan, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She had not moved out of arm’s reach since their first embrace, he’d noticed, not even during their argument at the inn. It felt good having her near.

  “Warden Iris,” Dardan began. The other man had not donned his armor yet, and wore only a simple gray linen shirt and trousers. His silvered plate and his sword with its pommel capped in mother of pearl lay in a pile back by the cell. “If you will, I would like you to tell me everything you can about the mission King Edon sent you on.”

  Iris was no man to be cowed by nobles, as the magistrate had been. Wardens were taught to respect the nobility, but the unthinking obedience was hammered out of them in their training. Dardan figured that politeness would gain the man’s cooperation more easily than threats or demands.

  Iris pursed his lips for a moment before he began. If he held any reluctance to provide information to them, he did not show it. “It was after our return from Vasland. His majesty dispatched us on a mission to find and gather mages to him, such as m’lady here.” His eyes darted to Amira for an instant, but then they locked onto Dardan once more. Dardan was surprised that Iris did not stare at his wife. Every man stared at Amira at one time or another. It had made him jealous at first, but Dardan was learning what a valuable tool it was to have a distractingly beautiful woman at his side.

  The Warden went on. “His majesty gave us special instructions to seek the pair of you, by name and title. We departed east from Thorncross, and by investigation tracked you through Tyndam Town and east along the Seawatch road. We did not know you were here in this village until we arrived this morning. Constable Adams recounted the events since your arrival, including the various demonstrations of m’lady’s power.”

  “You passed through Tyndam Town?” Amira asked. Her voice was tight, Dardan could hear, and he wanted badly to turn and look at her, but he kept his eyes on the Warden.

  “Yes, m’lady. And…” Here he paused for a long while. He was clearly struggling with something. “I fear that I may seem a man who tries to avoid responsibility for events I am involved in, what with all my denials about the perfidies committed by Warden Penrose. So in that vein, please forgive me for what I am about to tell you. We went to Tyndam Town, and by our investigation learned that you two had been there and met with Count Barnard Kirth. Count Kirth said that he had treated you as guests befitting your station, and claimed to have no knowledge of your power. But then Penrose questioned Count Kirth’s valo separately, and broke the man. He revealed all. Count Kirth knew of your power, knew that Edon hunted you, and not only let you leave, but threw you a wedding feast.” He hesitated another moment; Dardan saw him gulp. “Warden Penrose charged Count Kirth with treason and executed him.”

  Amira emitted a strangled cry, and her hand clamped hard on Dardan’s shoulder. His own spirit roiled with shock and outrage. “And I suppose you had nothing to do with it!”

  Warden Iris shrugged. “I advised him against it, but he was my commander. It is not so easy to break my oaths merely because my conscience comes calling.”

  “What happened next?” Amira said. Now Dardan looked up at her. Fury was written on her face, and he squeezed her hand until she met his gaze. He needed to make sure she didn’t do something drastic like kill the Warden in a rage. She seemed to sense this from him, and nodded slightly.

  “The town was in an uproar. Penrose threatened them all with treason if they tried to do anything. He told them to manage the succession and get on with their lives. Still, we departed the town with haste, before any kind of revenge could be organized. I suspect that I will not ever again be welcome in Tyndam County.”

  “At the very least,” Dardan said. “What then?”

  “We went south to the Seawatch road, and east in this direction. We found a few inns along the way where you had stopped, and the innkeepers remembered you. You specifically, m’lady,” he said, glancing up at Amira again. “Your beauty was oft mentioned.” And here Dardan noticed that Mason’s eyes finally lingered on Amira, if just for a moment. He looked at Dardan again and continued. “As to our other purpose, we found no other mages, which suited Penrose just as well, for he wanted to find you above all, sensing that it was the most important part of our task. I must apologize, for it was my suggestion to turn down the road leading here, while Penrose wanted to go straight on to Seawatch. I was surprised when he agreed, for he did not much care for my counsel.” This last came out with some bitterness. Dardan wondered what was behind it.

  “And thus today’s events. Well. What are we to do with you?”

  Iris looked pointedly at him. “My oaths require me to insist that you surrender yourselves to me at once, and accompany me back to Callaston.”

  “An option that we will clearly not allow.”

  “Clearly.”

  “I have a better idea,” Amira said. “Come with us.”

  Iris leaned back, as if struck. “What?”

  “What?” Dardan echoed. He rose to his feet and glared at her. “Amira, what in the black spirits are you talking about?”

  She stepped over to Warden Iris. Now he stared at her as she came to a halt just before him. “We are departing Stony Vale. Forever. The other mage, Garen, is coming with us, as he clearly cannot stay here either. But I think you no longer want to serve the king. I think you are caught in a struggle between your oath and honor, and what you know in your heart to be right.” She paused, and tilted her head a little. “What did you see in Vasland?”

  Iris licked his lips before speaking. “Essentially, his majes
ty invaded Vasland, killed thousands of them, and lost only a handful of men. The fortresses in the high passes were nothing before his power. The Vaslanders in the lowlands beyond were scattered like leaves on the wind. We were there perhaps a week before he decided that his message had been gotten across.”

  “And what did you personally do there?”

  Iris was silent for a long time. He looked away from Amira several times, but always came back to meet her gaze. “I mourned the dead.”

  An even longer silence stretched, as Dardan’s wife and this strange, affectless Warden stared at one another. She was the one to break it. “So Edon wants to gather mages? Then so shall we. To fight him, perhaps. Maybe only to discourage him from trying to find us. Maybe just to defend ourselves. A Warden at our side would be a great asset in such a search.”

  “I will not forswear my oaths, m’lady.”

  “And yet you cannot fulfill them. I would kill you, or myself, before letting you bring me to that monster. I daresay Edon wants me alive, does he not?”

  Iris’s silence gave the answer to that. His mask of equanimity was beginning to slip, Dardan thought.

  “Then consider it an extension of your mission. You cannot bring me to Callaston. You cannot simply abandon me and go back a failure. So accompany us, and maybe some opportunity will present itself to you.”

  “While you gather mages to oppose the lawful king.”

  Amira shrugged. “Your choice lies before you.”

  Dardan’s mouth hung open. Amira wanted to create a mage army of her own? And bring this hostile Warden along? But there was a spell here, between her and the Warden, and something prevented Dardan from saying anything that might break it.

  The Warden’s eyes glinted. After a long, tense moment, he nodded. “Then I will accompany you. But make no mistake: I am not your creature. I serve the king, and my Order.”

  “I would have it no other way.” She held out a hand. Iris hesitated, but took it, and rose. “There is one other thing I must insist upon. While you accompany me, you must swear that you will do nothing to harm myself, my husband, or any other companion of mine.”

  Iris jerked to a halt. “What?”

  “I cannot have you with us if there is any risk of you bringing us harm. Swear that you will do as I asked. I will trust that you will hold true to your oaths.”

  Dardan stared in amazement. Did she really think this Warden could be trusted so easily?

  While Warden Iris mulled over this latest demand, Amira continued on. “I’m afraid that if you refuse, I will insist that Magistrate Baxter keep you locked up here for, oh, a few weeks. Long enough for you to lose our trail.”

  Perhaps Iris simply couldn’t believe her hubris, but after staring for nearly a minute, he nodded again. “I swear I will not do anything to harm you or your companions. So long as I accompany you on this journey of yours,” he added. “Do not think I will refrain forever.”

  “I believe that you mean every part of that oath,” Amira said. She let go of Iris’s hand and turned to her husband. Dardan stared down at her with disbelief written plain across his face. If anything, she seemed to be grinning at him. “We had better get going. Garen is out in the square, waiting. I can see his spark.”

  He took her hand and stepped close. “You are mad,” he murmured to her.

  “Yes.” She gave him a quick kiss and went out into the square.

  CHAPTER 30

  KATIN