The Queen of Mages

by Benjamin Clayborne

By unspoken agreement, Amira and Dardan did not discuss the disaster in Seawatch. He was mortified at having fallen for Eltasi’s trap, even if they had escaped. Amira was focused on searching for mages, and simply did not bring it up.

  Dardan was grateful to let those memories recede each day. He had felt so accomplished after negotiating to meet with the duke, and especially after returning to Stony Vale and helping set matters right there. It shamed him to think of it.

  They spent the next weeks canvassing the Dukedom of Seawatch, scouting every town and village they could find. Amira and Garen watched for the spark, that line of silver light they said they could see. As far as they knew, no mage could hide from them; if they could see a person, they could tell.

  Despite Warden Iris’s protestations that he would not assist them in searching for mages—he was merely escorting them until such time as he could determine how to (honorably) force Amira to return to Callaston—he slowly slipped into the role of bodyguard and man-at-arms, advising them on where the most protected spot was to make camp, or how to avoid dead-ends and chokepoints in towns and villages. It did not help his cause that Amira frequently asked his opinion on such matters. Sometimes she resorted to suggesting something obviously dangerous, and Iris simply did not have the cruelty in him to let the woman make such a blunder. It fascinated Dardan to see the full force of his wife’s charm turned against another target.

  Dardan didn’t feel like he had much role at all now, aside from helping navigate from one town to another. In his youth he’d studied maps not only of Hedenham County, but the rest of the Dukedom of Thorncross, as well as neighboring dukedoms. Count Asmus had said it was important to know nearby lands, but Dardan had just thought it was fun poring over the maps, with their odd marks and intricate details.

  From the city of Seawatch they went north to Braenar County, whose mazelike crags bordered Vasland. Iris advised against going deep into the crags in order to search the villages there for mages; they’d likely run across Vaslander raiding parties, which would be nothing but trouble. After Braenar they went southwest into Vannar County, and then south through Youngs County toward the Stormrest Hills. Crossing those storm-wracked hills in the deepening cold would have been much too dangerous, leaving them to go around to the east or west. West would take them into Everfleet County, which was in Thorncross and closer to Edon. Neither Amira nor Dardan had any interest in that.

  At least Eltasi hadn’t sent men after them, or prevailed upon the royal army to hunt them down. Still, Dardan couldn’t help but look over his shoulder several times each day.

  Thus they found themselves, in the last days of autumn, travelling down the coast road, into Barrowmere County in the Dukedom of Tidemere. And by now their party had doubled in size.

  First they had come across Francine West, a wisp of a girl from a farm in Vannar County. Garen had spotted her spark as they passed her farmhouse; she lived there with her father, who beat her and yelled constantly. She had been all too glad to abandon the brute and join them when she found that there were others who shared her power. Francine had been terrified to reveal it to anyone, but when Amira confronted her, the girl wailed with joy and at once told her father to go stuff himself. For a girl with such a meek physical presence, she turned out to be rather blunt and chatty. Garen took a shine to her at once, which suited Dardan just fine. Even after their night out in Seawatch, Garen had still paid what Dardan considered to be undue attention to Amira.

  Next had been the twins—not sisters, not really, but so alike in aspect with their black hair and pale skin that Dardan suspected they might have been separated at birth. They’d found Sophie Williams and Emma Powell in villages fifty miles apart, the former accused of witchcraft and sentenced to hang by terrified townsfolk, and the latter hiding in a barn for fear of a similar fate. Emma had taken some coaxing, thinking it was a trick by the other townsfolk, but with smiles and encouragement Amira brought her around.

  Lastly had come Vincent Barnes, a hulking young man with an honest face, whom they found in a fishing village where the Stormrest Hills met the sea. Vincent had been tromping about angrily when they found him, shunned by the other townsfolk. They’d been too intimidated to attempt to hang him as Sophie’s fellow villagers had tried, but still he found no love amongst them—his own parents had thrown him out—and was as glad as any of the others to join Amira and her growing band.

  Disowned by their families, spurned by their friends, adrift in an increasingly hostile land. Relieved as they were to have found someone who would accept them, the new mages did not all instantly become best friends. There was mistrust and bickering, but between Amira’s charm and Dardan’s stern admonishments, the newcomers eventually became something like companionable.

  ———

  Dardan shook the snow off his cloak. “I thought the coast was supposed to be warmer than this.”

  “The western coast is, dear,” Amira replied, taking his hand as he helped her down from her mare. “It barely snows at all in winter there.”

  Dardan grumbled. “It’s not even winter yet, not until after Remembrance and Wintergift.” But almost; Remembrance began in two days.

  Here, on the outskirts of Elland, gales came in from the sea with bitter regularity, smashing against the Stormrest Hills. Fresh snowdrifts taller than Dardan marched up the ridges, unblemished as yet by footsteps of man or beast. The days had almost reached their shortest; at night the temperature dropped precipitously. Soon Wintergift would come and winter would truly begin.

  He and Amira had gone into the nearby village of Breaker Stand to search for news and try to buy supplies. They’d heard nothing of interest; in the snow, travellers were increasingly rare. Food was hard to find—at any reasonable price, anyway. Travellers seeking provisions at this time of year always found prices cruelly inflated.

  Dardan was not pleased by how little of their coin remained. Feeding all these mages was getting expensive—not to mention the horses. Certainly they could hunt and forage for some of their food, but with the early snows, such resources grew scarce.

  Darkness had fallen upon them by the time they returned to the stand of bare poplars where they’d left Warden Iris and the other mages. Several figures were gathered around the campfire. The ground in a wide circle around it had been cleared of snow; a simple task, since Amira and the other women could use their power to warm the ground, melting the slush and ice in seconds. They’d even figured out how to dry snow-soaked branches, turning damp wood into timber suitable for a fire.

  Dardan heard a sharp crack in the distance, and then another. That must be Vincent, off practicing with his power. He’d said he was afraid of hurting someone and practiced alone much of the time, no matter how Amira insisted that they all train together.

  Amira faced Garen. “Have you all been practicing?”

  “Yes,” Francine said, rushing over. “Look! Look what I figured out!”

  “You’ll like this,” Garen said, smiling wide. Francine had taken his hand, Dardan noticed.

  Dardan watched as Francine concentrated, staring into space. Then she looked over at Amira, as if for approval.

  Amira gasped. “Remarkable! How did you do that?”

  “Dare I ask?”

  Amira turned to Dardan. “She can create a new bead while the first one is still dissipating. It’s amazingly quick!”

  The implications failed to settle upon Dardan. “I shall assume that is a good thing.” He stalked away, leaving them to discuss their mysterious magic. The cold and dark discouraged him, and he lay alone by the fire while Amira conferred with the other mages, wondering not for the first time where this road would end.

  After a while, she came and knelt on the muddy ground beside him. “Are you all right?”

  “No, I am bloody well not all right,” he snapped, and sat up. “We’re sleeping on frozen mud. We’re a month out of Seawatch and have barely four new mages to show for it. An army to make men tremble, surely. And in case you
forgot how to count, we’re down to the last coppers in our pockets. How exactly did you expect to feed all these people?”

  Amira drew back, startled. “What is this anger? You know we have no choice! What would you have us do? Go back to Callaston and politely ask Edon if he’ll leave us be?”

  Dardan grunted and lurched to his feet. “Never mind.” He stomped off into the night, until the campfire was a faint twinkle among the leafless trees. Couldn’t she see that this whole arrangement was doomed? Couldn’t she see that he needed her more than these strangers did?

  ———

  Their camp was only a half day’s ride from the count’s seat at Elland. The city had an encircling wall that sloped down toward the seaside. As in all sensible port cities, the docks sat outside the wall. Amira seemed optimistic that they’d find at least one more mage in a city this large, the largest they’d visited since Seawatch.

  Dardan had spent the whole morning avoiding her. He regretted how he’d acted the night before—the clarity of daylight always threw nighttime actions into sharp relief—but today pride was his armor, and he would not apologize.

  They came to Elland’s north gate. The men there asked for the name of each person entering the city, and what business they had. The guardsman looked up sharply at Dardan’s name, and asked him to wait a moment while he fetched his captain. He returned a moment later with not one but four men, clad in the deep blue and sea green of House Bahodir. “Count Dardan Tarian?” their captain asked.

  Dardan nodded, tensing a little. “I am he.”

  “Count Razh Bahodir expects you, m’lord. If you will follow us to the keep.” The guard captain bowed and gestured through the gate.

  Dardan’s horse must have sensed his unease, for it shied back a little. He turned to look at Amira, who wore a deep apprehension on her face. “Excuse us a moment,” he said to the guard, and sidled over to his wife.

  “They’re expecting us?” Amira said. She almost managed not to glower at Dardan. Almost.

  “We haven’t been making much effort to hide. A messenger from Seawatch could have gotten here weeks ago. The whole eastern half of Garova could know of us by now.”

  Warden Iris came over on Hawthorn. His hand rested on the pearl-pommelled grip of his sword, but somehow he looked as if he had no intention of drawing it. Dardan knew that was a lie. They’d been threatened a time or two on their journey—bandits, wolves—and Iris was always ready to face threats. “I should like to point out that this could obviously be a trap.”

  “We outnumber them,” Amira said.

  “Yes, and quite clearly. So much so as to lull us into complacence.”

  “We can’t very well turn around and leave,” Amira said. “We still need to buy what supplies we can. Food here should be a little cheaper than out in the smaller towns.”

  “We’ll go in,” Dardan decided.

  Iris nodded curtly. “Keep your eyes open. No blind alleys.” Was he also reminded of Duke Eltasi’s ambush in Seawatch? The Warden still insisted that Eltasi’s attempt to kill him had been incidental. Perhaps only if he were actually killed would he then believe that their enemies did not care one whit for his oaths.

  They followed the guards into the city. Dardan’s nerves buzzed as he watched the streets for hidden dangers. But they stayed on the wide, well-trafficked streets of Elland; the guards did not try to lead them into any narrow alleys.

  The other mages surrounded Amira like an honor guard, riding their motley assortment of mounts. Aside from Garen, who’d been to Seawatch, none of them had ever been to a town even half so large as Elland, and they gawked at the crowds and the tall, tightly-packed wooden buildings.

  Teams of men with shovels scraped snow from the roads. It hadn’t snowed since yesterday morning, so they’d made good headway, but there was still a thick layer of muddy slush. A glob kicked up by the guard captain’s horse splattered against Dardan’s boot. They hadn’t been planning to meet any nobles; Dardan hoped they wouldn’t seem too messy and travel-worn when they were presented to Count Razh Bahodir.

  Dardan knew of the count, but had never met him. He could not be a soft man; he ruled a county thrice the size of Hedenham. Would he be kind, cruel, fair?

  The count’s keep in Elland was round and squat, not even as tall as Foxhill Keep, but surrounded by a double ringwall and moat. The keep and its defenses sat in the center of the city, and were built of the same shiny gray seastone as the city walls. Mundane attackers would have a great deal of trouble getting to the keep, though a male mage—like Vincent or Garen—could tear the whole thing down in minutes. Which might happen, if they had to flee in a hurry.

  The guards at the keep’s gate stood aside to let the party through. The keep’s stables were in the outer ring, so they dismounted and walked the rest of the way, keeping close together. Dardan could not tell for sure, but Amira and the other mages seemed to have that air of grim concentration they got when practicing. He prayed they would keep their power in check unless an actual threat presented itself.

  The guard captain asked them to wait in the keep’s drafty entry hall. When Dardan felt a sudden warmth settle on him, he realized that one of the mages must be warming the air. He glared at Amira and mouthed Stop it! Was she so foolish as to use her mage power just as they were to meet Count Bahodir?

  But she shook her head and looked back. Francine was staring blankly into space, and after a moment both she and Amira grimaced, clenching their teeth. Garen snorted, grinning. Dardan stewed, mystified by their private shared language.

  His silent ire was interrupted by loud, booted steps from the grand staircase ahead of them. Down the stairs came a young man wearing fine white furs over a gray mantle. He had long, pale blond hair that fell around his shoulders, and eyes an even darker gray than Amira’s.

  He stopped for a moment, looking over his visitors, them came down the last steps quickly. “You must be Count Tarian,” he said.

  “Count Bahodir, I presume,” Dardan replied, bowing as befit an equal. Equal? Ha! He has an actual realm to govern.

  “This must be your lady wife,” Razh Bahodir said, taking her hand and bowing slightly. Up close, his face seemed bony and misshapen, but there was a keenness behind his eyes. Mostly, Dardan was astonished at how young Razh looked. The count was roughly of an age with Dardan; the previous Count Bahodir had died a few years earlier.

  Amira smiled obligingly, but her eyes were as icy as the air outside. “My lord,” she said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Not at all,” Razh said. His voice betrayed no nervousness. “You all look quite weary. Perhaps some refreshment is in order.”

  Razh watched them intently as his house major ushered them all into a sitting room, decorated with such detail that Dardan almost forgot they were in a fortress, not a manse or country house. Iris eyed the walls carefully, presumably searching for murder-holes to mirror the ones they’d been ambushed with in Seawatch.

  The young mages stood around awkwardly for a moment, until Count Bahodir came in behind them and insisted that everyone sit, as they were all his guests. He watched the mages carefully, though, never turning his eyes away, and after a moment his mouth quirked into a smile. But he said nothing else until food and drink were brought in, a blessedly short time later. The tension in the air utterly suppressed Dardan’s appetite.

  “Well. I have been looking forward to your arrival for quite some time,” Count Bahodir said.

  “And why is that?” Dardan said. He almost wished Razh would ambush them or something; the anticipation was driving him mad.

  Razh gave a toothy grin and turned his head to the side.

  All the mages gasped, and in a moment Dardan realized what it must be: Count Razh Bahodir was also a mage. The silver light! No wonder he faced us the whole time.

  Razh laughed. “I would have preferred to demonstrate more directly, but alas, I do not want to destroy the room my beloved house major has spent so much effort decorating.�
��

  “How long—?” Amira stuttered, still recovering from her amazement.

  “Since early autumn. I had the most dreadful headaches, and then I could see this, this sort of fire in my mind. It took me some time to figure out how to use it, and I nearly burned down the stables when I did.”

  “The headaches seem to be common to all of us,” Amira said. “They last a few weeks, and then the power manifests—oh, we have so much to discuss!”

  Dardan’s jaw set. Another distraction. Amira was elated, of course. Would they ever be able to spend time as husband and wife again? Were they doomed to endlessly roam Garova, building up an army until battle became inevitable? Dark clouds came over him, and he drummed his fingers absently on the table as Amira and Razh and the other mages all talked shop. Dardan stole a glance at Iris, who had fixed Bahodir with an annoyed stare. Perhaps Iris was upset by finding another noble who was a mage, as if nobles should not be sullied by such misfortune. For once, he sympathized with the man.

  After some time, Count Razh addressed Dardan. “My lord, you and I have much to discuss as well. Perhaps we should retire separately for a time.” He stood up, and everyone else did as well, although Dardan’s petulance got the better of him, and he waited until last to stand. If Razh noticed, he didn’t show it. He addressed all the others. “Please feel free to rest here. My house major will arrange rooms for you all.” He turned to Dardan. “If you are ready?”

  Dardan nodded curtly, and followed Razh from the room, Razh’s aged valo trailing behind. Dardan still missed the presence of his own valo, but said nothing. Liam was a hardy man; Dardan still held hope that they would meet again.

  He wondered what Razh wanted. Mage or not, any ruler worth his salt knew how to play the game. Count Bahodir might seek to control them, or threaten them… Dardan steeled himself as they came into Razh’s office and settled into supple leather chairs. Razh left his valo outside.

  “You’re a brave man, Tarian. Fighting a king cannot be easy, magic powers or no.”

  “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to fight him,” Dardan said.

  “No? Isn’t that your goal? To put together enough of us—‘mages,’ I like that word. I assumed your plan was to put together enough mages to try to overthrow Edon.”

  “My plan? This was all my lady wife’s idea. You’d have to ask her.” Dardan could feel the anger in his own voice, but he could not fight it down.

  Razh paused for a moment before continuing. “Ah. Well at least you have the excuse that no one has ever assembled an army of mages before.” He grinned. “I shan’t press you any more on that topic, then. If you would, tell me how you came to be here.”

  Dardan made a quick sketch of their journey since Hedenham, and glanced down at his marriage rings as he spoke. One true, one borrowed. Dardan clasped his hands together to keep from tapping them on the armrests, and changed the subject. “May I ask, how long have you been the count?”

  “Nearly five years,” Razh said. “Old Patric there was my da’s valo, and my father passed just as I turned sixteen. I kept Patric on rather than try to find someone closer to my age, although I suppose Patric will retire eventually, and then I’ll have to find a new valo anyway. A good valo’s worth his weight in gold, father always said.”

  Dardan snorted. “Don’t let my Liam hear you say that, if you ever meet him. He’d get even more insolent than he already is.” His cheer drained away almost instantly. “Forgive me, but I’m weary after our travels.”

  “Of course, of course. Rest is of paramount importance.” He nodded sagely, which looked absurd on a man so young, but he’d been ruling a county on his own since Dardan was still mooning over that farrier’s daughter. “Well, we can concern ourselves with logistics later. For now, you are my guests, and I would be most pleased to host you and your party here through Wintergift, at the very least.”

  Dardan blinked. “That’s all?”

  “What’s all?”

  “I… forgive me, but I had expected you to… demand something of us.”

  Razh drew back, astonished. “Dear me. Is that how things are played in Thorncross? Counts in competition with one another?”

  “Well, it depends on the counts. My father was never very fond of—never mind. Surely you must realize the importance of your—of mages,” Dardan said. “The world will change a great deal.”

  “No doubt, but I already have my hands full with the usual duties of ruling a county. I haven’t the time or inclination to engage in some sort of… machinations! I’m simply pleased to find myself in the presence of a group of people my own age.”

  “Come again?”

  “My sisters are five and ten years older than me, and they still treat me like their little brother, even though I am their lord. I have distant cousins my own age but they are far away. You saw Patric; he’s as old as my father was. You and your wife and the other mages are my own cohort. Age-wise.” He stood and came around the desk to face Dardan directly. “You’ve nothing to fear here, I promise. It seems that I am in as much danger from our king as you and your friends are. I cannot say I’ve heard terribly much about House Tarian, but what I have heard is all good. I cannot say the same for Edon. Nothing would please me more than to host you here, and I swear there is no ulterior motive to it.”

  “I don’t want to impose,” Dardan said automatically.

  Razh laughed. “No, no, think nothing of it. This place is half-empty most of the time, with our ancestors all gone to join the Caretaker.” He hesitated for a moment as a sadness flickered across his features. “I mentioned my sisters; they live here as well. Both unmarried, but don’t get any ideas.” His grin had returned. “I’m sure they’ll be as glad of the company as I am.”

  They went back downstairs. Afternoon turned to evening, and Razh treated the entire party, even the commoners, to a fine dinner in the castle’s great hall. He seemed to consider them all his new brothers and sisters, and did not stand on his station.

  A chilly bedchamber was secured for Dardan and Amira. His desire to get a good night’s rest in a real bed butted up against his expectation of Amira’s cold shoulder. She hadn’t smiled at him once the whole day, and made no attempt at conversation as they dressed for bed. That put Dardan in an even worse mood, so he merely said a brusque good night and climbed under the blankets.

  ———

  “Remembrance is always quite festive in Elland,” Count Razh said over breakfast the next morning. “We work hard in Barrowmere County, and the people deserve their rewards.”

  Dardan and Amira spent the days of Remembrance relaxing in the relative luxury of Count Razh’s castle. The count was fond of creature comforts and made sure that the Tarians and all their party could enjoy them as well. Even Iris seemed to relax a little, which meant that when he stood stoically against the wall, his hand was not on his sword.

  The days remained chilly, but the denizens of Elland wasted no time in decorating for Wintergift. Pine trees were raised at every large intersection, decorated with the traditional strings of beads and dried beans and fruits. Smoked sausages hung from the branches, and every night, torch-bearing crowds gathered around the trees to dance and drink and eat and sing songs recounting events of the year just past. The mood was contagious, and even Dardan needed little encouragement from his wife to venture out and join the festivities. The other mages trailed along like a family of ducklings.

  The crowds grew as the five days of Remembrance wore on. On Wintergift Eve, Count Razh hosted a banquet in his great hall, and dozens of merchants and guildmasters and barons of Barrowmere County were invited. Dardan and Amira were the honored guests, and Francine and Garen and the other mages were given places at the high table. Count Razh even cajoled Warden Iris into sitting and enjoying himself. Dardan found it easy to ignore the stares and whispers of the guests, some of whom he suspected had come only to see whether mages really did have horns and leathery wings—so went one of the more absurd rumors.

  A
t midnight, a series of deep clangs reverberated in the air, bells sounding at temples across the city. Dardan had gone through several cups of wine, and so only hesitated a moment before he swept Amira into his arms and buried her laughter in a kiss.

  Embraces were exchanged all around, even between strangers. Dardan kissed Francine and Sophie and a baroness and a merchant’s wife. He felt only a little jealous when Amira kissed Vincent and Count Razh and even Razh’s grumpy old valo.

  Wintergift saw their whole party trooping through the streets in the sharp morning sunlight. Count Razh led the way, hurling handfuls of coppers and candies at the children who swarmed around them. A last gasp of autumn warmth had all but cleared the streets of snow. Dardan’s nostrils tingled at the sea breezes. The new year had dawned, and winter had finally come, if only in name.

  Amira tugged at his arm as they walked. “Dearest, I have something for you.” She reached into a pocket of the fur-lined cloak Count Razh had gifted to her and withdrew a tiny box wrapped in silver thread.

  Dardan gaped, feeling embarrassment and surprise. He hadn’t even thought to get his wife a gift. They’d been on the road so long, on the run from Edon, that the idea of properly celebrating Wintergift had never crossed his mind. “Amira, my love, I—I didn’t—when did you—”

  She laughed. “Stop floundering about and open it!”

  He took the box and undid the thread. Inside he found a small figurine, half shining silver and half polished jade. It was in the shape of a northern mastiff.

  Amira clasped his free hand in hers. “The mastiff for our house. Silver for the mines, green jade for the fields and farms. The wealth of Hedenham, our county. It will be returned to us. I swear it.”

  Pangs of memory struck him. Dardan let himself breathe until he felt steadier. He wanted nothing more than to return to Hedenham, and take his rightful place as count, but… Was this meant as a peace offering, to mend the rift between them? How was a trinket supposed to salve that wound? “Thank you,” he said at last. Amira smiled broadly and leaned up to give him a kiss, then turned to attend to Count Razh as he pointed out some guild hall up ahead. Dardan felt like throwing the little mastiff into a gutter, but slipped it into his own cloak’s pocket instead.

  ———

  He received a significantly more welcome gift when they returned to the keep. A man and a woman waited patiently in the entry hall, and it took Dardan a moment to recognize them.

  “Liam,” he breathed. Amira shrieked and ran forward, clutching her vala in a tearful hug that Katin just as eagerly returned.

  Dardan could not help but embrace his own valo, a man he hadn’t seen in more than a season. Liam seemed rougher, gaunter, less full of the confidence and vigor that had always marked him. “Where on earth have you been, man?”

  Liam stepped back, and Dardan recognized that old grin. “Here and there. You seem not to have done too badly yourself.” He glanced about Count Razh’s entry hall.

  Dardan introduced the returned valai to Count Razh, who loudly thanked the Caretaker for reuniting them with their masters, and ordered his house major to find them rooms at once.

  “Thank you, of course,” Dardan said to Razh, “but I fear we’ve trod upon your hospitality too long already.”

  “Nonsense,” Razh said. He promised to feast them all again that evening, and left the Tarians to catch up with their valai.

  CHAPTER 35

  KATIN