Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) (10 page)

Shaun frowned and looked down, his jaw-length hair falling where it pleased. “Because t’ey forgot what it was to be free, or because t’is is t’ best life available.” He slid down the wall onto the bench with Mikelle.

“I…I have vacant rooms in Castle Jaden. Thousands.”

Shaun shook his head. “T’ese people will not leave wit’out good reason.” Mikelle slowly lifted her arm and passed it in front of Shaun’s face. He gently took up her wrist and gave it back. “I have tried to convince t’em for t’ree years.”

“But if you are their leader…” Lael trailed off, breaking into his loaf.

“I am not t’eir leader. I spearhead t’ revolution.”

Mikelle drew her arm up slowly to pass before his eyes again, but she got as far as his chest before he gently gripped her hand and set it beside him, holding it. “I’m blind, but I can still see,” he said, looking right at her eyes. She glanced at their hands with a sly smile.

“How many people do you command?” Gabriel asked.

Shaun shrugged. “A hundred or so.”

“Will you let me try to convince them?”

“Oh, aye, if you fancy, but t’ey are not all plush Jaden Mages.”

“Then we’ll have something in common.”

Chapter 10

Robyn paced a small circle around the furniture in her study. Fatigue waned every muscle and her strength. She braced a hand on a chair and took a deep breath, chiding herself to be stronger, but she felt just as weary.

The fatigue had come on slowly over the past week. At first she thought it was poor sleep, but she was sleeping more than ever and still woke in exhaustion. She declined dinner requests and only saw people in her study. She began to worry something was truly wrong. No amount of water or food would alter her state, and she woke each morning feeling a little worse.

She went to her desk and gratefully took a seat to stare at the reports without interest. Gabriel had shifted her army to the Myron Islands weeks ago, and they sent the Shalabane back to their lands by force. She had long ago elevated Lieutenant Lex Shepherd to the title of Commander and put him in charge of a legion. He had proved to be as valuable in battle as his father General Calsifer. Robyn spent weeks rebuilding the island’s political system that had been annihilated. She also had to return a section of troops to Arconia. The Shalabane had turned their focus there, and it would take several more days until they were ready to sail.

Yet, the more she gave, the more people wanted. She told herself it was because Miranda made promises and never followed through, but it seemed like nothing was ever good enough.

Her guard outside opened the door to permit Lady Aisling dressed in a high-neck yellow gown carrying several scrolls.

“Did you sleep poorly?” Aisling asked with a concerned tone as she walked up.

Robyn put a hand on her forehead. “I…I think I am ill.”

Aisling sat. “You have looked pale for days.”

“I have felt badly much longer.”

Aisling raised her hands. “May I delve?” she asked, and Robyn nodded. Aisling took her time searching before finally leaning back. “I feel nothing wrong. It is likely a cold. I will have the kitchens send up soup and herbal tea and see if Prince Balien can mix something up. Do you feel well enough to be up today?”

“Yes, I can sit. Tea would be lovely.” She leaned her forehead onto her hand and shifted over papers.

“Are there any other symptoms?” Aisling asked as she stood. Robyn shook her head. “I will return with tea then. These are deeds from Myron for you to sign later.”

“I will tend to them. Spirit Mages cannot heal diseases can they?”

Aisling shook her head. “Do not tax yourself until you feel better. I can manage in your absence.”

Dimitri sat with his head in hand, slowly turning the pages of an ancient book. A glowing orb sat beside him in a lantern casting blue shadows on the dark walls of the cavernous room. His eyes skimmed the page in search of uppercase words starting with ‘D’, but he was having little success.

It had taken Demi over a week to get a meeting with the Head Mage, one that proved successful. He liked the Head Mage and was wroth to lie to him, but he would do whatever it took to free his mother. Demi claimed he wished to search for more Void patterns and needed access to the Forbidden Section, and the Head Mage had finally agreed after much convincing. But Demi had no intention of searching for Void.

He encountered precious little information about the Arch Mage Dorian Lark, Ryker’s destroyer that died an Age before. There were plenty of passages written of Ryker Slade and Maxine Flint, but of the rest there was little. Demi furtively searched page after crumbling page, pulling books off the shelves written in the time Dorian died. None seemed to detail what he needed.

Demi could not shake the unnerving feeling of being watched down in the catacombs of Madison Library. He was certain there was no one, but every now and then he thought he heard the turning of a page. Whenever he looked, he saw nothing. Today he was tucked in a small room carved from the mountain, and it was not possible to hold a second person without him seeing them enter. Still, his neck prickled now and again.

He shut the book and picked up another with a thick spine. When he opened it, something clattered to the table. He started with a fright, fearful it could be one of the massive bugs he had seen crawling about. Demi breathed a sigh of relief saw it was a small medallion on a chain. It held an emerald as large as a fingernail in the center surrounded by simply-carved silver. When he touched it, it gave off a faint hum, as if something inside vibrated.

He flipped open the book and searched for key words, coming across notations on the Mage Wars, but there was no mention of the strange medallion.

He turned another page with a sigh.

“Cannot be
that
bad.”

Demi jumped from his seat and flung it back with a cry of surprise. A figure looked down at him. “Stars above!” he exclaimed, looking
through
the pale gray man. “A specter!”

“Ye are down here all day, every day. What do ye search for?” he asked quietly.

Demi pressed himself against the wall. The specter folded his arms and gave him an impatient look. “Did Ryker send you?” the boy gasped.

“I am not one of his specters. Peel thineself off the wall. What do ye look for?”

Demi slackened a touch and stooped to right his chair. “Information…on the Arch Mages.”

The specter nodded and turned to a shelf. “Which one?”

“Dorian.”

“What about him?” the specter traced a finger over several spines of books.

“Where he is buried.”

The specter stopped and turned. “Ye do not need to be here for that information. Ye need to be in the necropolis.”

Demi paused. “Dorian—is buried
here
?” he exclaimed.

“Aye, most of him.”

“Where is the rest?”

The specter shrugged. “The Head Mage would know.”

“And this?” Dorian held up the medallion. “What is this?”

The specter frowned, squinted, and vanished only to emerge through the wall a few moments later with an open book. He flipped the pages setting the open book on the table. “Ye have thineself an Excellyon. Pike Bronwen’s by the looks.”

Demi slipped the medallion into a pocket. “Thank you, specter.” He gave a proper bow and dashed out.

Chapter 11

There was no place to stay within the slums, so Cordis found them rooms in an establishment outside. As soon as Gabriel deposited his gear and horse, he marched back into the slums with his Council close behind.

Mikelle looped her arm through Shaun’s as they walked and saw him smile just a little. He walked with his face turned down as the gray pattern flitted around him, and he moved with expert agility despite his blindness.

“What is this pattern?” she asked, walking behind Gabriel who greeted every Mage he could find.

“I…I’m not sure what it’s called,” Shaun replied. “But I can feel t’ air around me.”

“Even the cobblestones in your way?”

“Wherever t’ air touches. I can tell t’ fabric of your dress by t’ air between t’ weave, or where t’ city walls are weakest. I just cannot tell you of colors.”

“Do you move that pattern with your mind?” Gabriel asked, looking back.

“I do.”

“You must be very strong to manage it.”

Shaun shrugged. “I’ve been using it so long, it’s second nature.”

“We’re you blind from birth?” Mikelle asked.

Shaun smirked darkly. “No, no t’is was deliberate.”

“You were blinded? When?”

“About five years ago.” He paused and pointed to a small house with a cloth door. “You’ll want to pop in here and talk to my mate Rillen. Let me introduce you.” He released Mikelle’s arm and slipped into the home, motioning for Gabriel to follow.

“He’s a pretty one,” Cordis whispered.

“He is ever so fair,” Mikelle whispered back. Lael grimaced and walked to join the other men.

A young woman came up and bowed. “If you’re looking for a builder, I can offer my talents. Or perhaps you need a cleaner? I can do bot’.” Around her neck was a blue-and-green collar twined together.

Mikelle put a hand on her shoulder. “You are made for things much greater than serving non-Mages.”

“But…do you need assistance?”

Mikelle wiggled her fingers and drew a ball of ice into her hand.

The girl’s eyes widened as she quickly clamped her hand over Mikelle’s. “Don’t,” she whispered. “T’ey will see you.”

“Who?”

“T’ sell-outs,” she breathed. “T’ey will see you impersonating a lady and have you flogged or worse.”

“I
am
a lady. I sit on the Mage Council in Jaden. I am the Head Mage’s left-hand and best ally.”

The girl looked to argue, but her eyes fixed on Mikelle’s brown hair bound up in twirls atop her head. “I believe you, m’lady, but t’ey will not.”

“You t’ere!” a man shouted, and the girl flinched and spun. A tall man in black holding a folio marched up toting a smaller man behind him. “T’is t’ one?” He asked and the smaller man nodded. “You used a Water pattern and are out of your collar. What is your number?”

Mikelle straightened as Galloway, Lael and Cordis stepped up beside her. “I am a free Mage,” she snapped.

The man looked befuddled for a moment. “T’at is not possible.”

“Do I look or sound like I’m from here?”

“I’ve seen all t’ tricks,” he reached out to grab her arm when all three men of the Council stepped between them.

“Good sir,” Lael cut in. “We are not here to cause trouble. We are Mages from across the mountains seeking alliance with your people.”

“Set foot in Tintagaelsing, and you are property of t’ King.”

Gabriel stepped out from the home with Shaun and two men behind him. “Forgive my Mages,” Gabriel said and stood in front of Mikelle. “We are just becoming acquainted with your ways.”

“You’re missing a collar.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “I wear
no
collar.”

The man drew a long rod from his belt. Shaun moved with expert agility to intervene, but the man drew it up and stuck Gabriel in the hip. Gabriel gasped in pain. His muscles tightened as his nerves spammed. The sensation caught him off-guard, but Gabriel threw out a hand, pointing at his attacker. Blue crackles of lightning shot from his fingertips, breaking the connection with the rod though he had not laid a pattern. His attacker in black fell to the broken cobblestone.

“What was that?” Gabriel winced.

“Harnessed electricity. What was
t’at
?” Shaun asked, gripping Gabriel’s arm with both hands to help him straighten.

“Electricity transference.”

“T’at should have knocked you senseless.”

“I know how to handle pain,” Gabriel replied and stepped up to his attackers. The smaller man in black stepped back. “You tell your masters they have to come through me now,” Gabriel hissed, and the man rushed off.

A crowd gathered and stood with inquisitive expressions, watching Gabriel’s next move. “T’is is your chance, mate,” Shaun whispered.

“Mages, I am Class Ten Head Mage Gabriel of Jaden across the mountains. I wield all Elements but Air, and I am here to free you from this oppression. If you would have it, I would gladly welcome you to Castle Jaden.”

Some looked skeptical, others looked outright frightened, but a few looked to Shaun for guidance. “I endorse t’is man,” he stated. “Spread t’ word.” He laid a pattern with many points and suddenly fueled it. Dozens of gray lines shot throughout the streets. “We best get inside before t’at Mage comes back wit’ more.”

Shaun took Mikelle’s arm and drew them all down a slender alley. His pattern followed him, and slipped down a few stairs to show them to a door. Inside was a dark but cozy shop similar to a hop house. Shaun led her to a table and motioned for the rest to sit.

“I did not know you were a Class Ten,” Shaun whispered, half in surprise, half in amazement. “Are t’ rest of you Class Tens?”

“Alas, no, our Head Mage is an Anomaly,” Markus replied. “The rest of us are mostly Fives.”

Shaun mouthed the word and wrinkled his brow. “Are you allowed to breed with non-Mages?”

“We are.” Gabriel nodded.

“T’at explains it. We are not permitted to marry anyone but a Mage.”

“So you have retained the bloodlines,” Lael said with a hint of a smile. Shaun nodded emphatically. In his upturned palm, he held the pattern with a dozen lines that were beginning to fade in places. He brushed a thumb around it to feel which lines were transparent.

“I’ve heralded my mates to join us here. T’ey will want to hear what you have to say.” He took a seat beside Mikelle. “Your accent is different t’an t’eir’s.”

“I’m from Arconia, across the sea,” she smiled.

“T’ Dorna Cel?”

“The Dahrry Sea, on the other side.”

“By my lady,” he said in a tone that marked it as a curse. “I sailed t’ Dorna Cel but never far enough to reach t’ lands on t’ other side.”

“You were a sailor?” she asked.

“Aye, before t’is,” he pointed to his faded eyes.

“What happened?”

“T’at’s a story for anot’er day.” He stood as several men walked in and greeted them by name, introducing them to Gabriel. Each man looked worn, wearing basic garments and a touch of dirt. Mikelle felt out of place in such finery. Most men were surprised to learn Gabriel was a Mage and had a hundred questions about his garb, hair, and some about his height. Most Gaelsins were shorter, a sign of malnutrition. He politely answered all he could.

Mikelle watched Shaun mingle, greeting with a handshake or an embrace, all with a delighted expression. He knew how to play a crowd as well as any ruler. His clothes, while loose-fitting, were styled to be that way she decided. It was not the first time she had seen Air Mages wear movable clothing to better feel the air around them. She wondered how slender he was under them, then blushed.

“Non-Mages pay you for your work but not your wares?” Gabriel asked a group of men. “That seems backwards.”

“As we’ve been saying for years,” someone from the crowd said.

“T’at’s not t’ half of it, m’lord,” said another.

“No ‘my-lords’ here. We are equal,” Gabriel said with a raised hand. “Tell me the rest.”

Shaun finally let the pattern in his hand vanish and gathered their attention. He explained who Gabriel was and why he and his Council was here. The Council watched on silently as Gabriel stood with his arms folded and nodded when appropriate.

“I should like to see t’is Jaden before I make rash decisions, but it would take mont’s,” a man said when Shaun finished.

“Not so. I can have you there in a minute with a shift. And I’m sure you have strong enough Mages to handle the sidestep-patterns.”

Shaun frowned. “Don’t know those.”

“I would gladly show you Castle Jaden if you permit me,” he said and seized Void, making more than one jump in surprise.

“Void Mage,” someone whispered to Shaun who smiled.

“You know of Void?” Lael asked.

“Some of us are permitted to learn it. T’ King selects a few Mages each decade.”

Gabriel extended a hand. “Make connection with me, and I’ll take you there.”

Several men came up to grab his arm including Shaun, and Gabriel vanished.

“The pretty one likes you,” Cordis whispered as he leaned into Mikelle.

She patted his hand. “All men like me.”

The Council rose to speak with the rest of the men and few women who gathered. Soon the other patrons of the hop house were busily invested in their conversations. When Gabriel returned, the Gaelsin companions shouted with elated faces and a dozen stories to retell. Shaun was one of them. He sought her out.

“You call t’at place home?”

“It is now. Gabriel rescued me from a dreary life.”

“Do you trust him?”

She put a hand on his shoulder and drew him closer as the room grew louder. He was perhaps an inch taller than her, and she leaned in to whisper. His skin smelled savory. “He stepped in front of a spear meant for me.”

Shaun drew closer. “How badly wounded?”

“Oh, it killed him.”

He opened his mouth but closed it again as he thought. “It seems we all have our stories.”

“To answer your question, there is no safer place to be than in the same room with that man. I trust him with my life, for so far he has done his utmost to protect it.”

She released his shoulder, but he did not break away. “But should I trust you, lady Mikelle?” he whispered, his breath brushing her neck.

“I certainly don’t.”