Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) (18 page)

He shook his head and pushed himself off the doorframe. Slowly he walked down the hall, each footstep echoing finality. He ran the discussion over in his head, and it brought tears to his fragile eyes, so he paused and pressed his forehead against the wall as he composed himself, taking long breaths to still his racing mind.

He stepped through her study and went to her bedchamber door, knocking before letting himself in. She lay propped up in bed, a lantern by her side and a book open in one hand. She smiled as he closed the door behind him and set the book aside, but her lips quickly frowned as her face searched his.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand up in both of his, lowering his head as he composed himself. He managed to keep most emotion from his voice, but the tears glossed the rims of his eyes as he looked up.

“Robyn,” he whispered. “Balien is dead.”

Chapter 21

Robyn did her best to compose herself as men carried Balien’s body through the ballroom on their shoulders. His stretcher draped red and gold cloths with black roses at his head and feet from the Earth Mages in Jaden. His crown which he rarely wore, a gold circlet with five slender peaks, perched on his cold brow, and in his hands was
Harbinger
, his gold sword that no more than two months before had saved his life from a falling boulder. It had laid across the room from his bed that fateful night, unable to save him.

The ballroom was silent as thousands watched the procession. Mages had come from Jaden, distant family members from all reaches of the lands had been sidestepped or shifted in. Dignitaries and officers flooded the room. Robyn’s cousins Andolyn, Talon and his wife Ginjer stood near the front of the room. Tears flowed abandoned down Andolyn’s face.

Gabriel would have carried the stretcher by himself, but he opted to stand beside Robyn, for she needed him more. He held her hand tightly, his face blank but composed.

The bearers carried Balien to the dais on the far end of the room, setting it atop a long marble alter. Robyn dabbed at her eyes and took a deep breath, giving Gabriel’s hand one last squeeze. Keeping her head straight to prevent the crown from slipping, she took the stairs to the top of the dais. The crown was extra heavy today.

She stood before Balien’s pale body. The cold of the vaults had kept him preserved, but there were circles around his eyes, and his lips were so white. She swallowed the lump in her throat and faced the sea of people.

“Prince Balien Bolt,” she began, feeling the name catch her tongue, making her voice waver, “was an exceptional brother.” She pulled a kerchief out and held it to her mouth a moment. Notes of others weeping and sniffing in the crowd reached her.

“He was valiant in the battlefield, excellent in combat, and knew the politics of the palace well enough to maintain my rule before I could take the throne. He was a rare ally to have, and some of you benefited from his skill in horticulture. Many in the palace knew him as a man to turn to when they were in need, and he always gave without hesitation. My brother, while not gifted with a Mage’s ability to heal, mended more people here than I can count.

“He always sought out the weary to ease their burdens, or offer comfort. When our father died, Balien stayed up with me all night as I wept, being strong when I could not. His steely resolve was honed at an early age, and only grew as he did.

“He was a born leader, both in the palace and on the battlefield. People always gravitated to him, and this place will be void without his company. Our soldiers will be at a disadvantage without his training.

“He balanced the Novacula reign in my absence, so I had a throne to take when I came of age. In doing this, he kept Mage Nolen’s strength at bay long enough for me to assume the throne. It cost him his life.” She wiped the tears and lowered the kerchief. “He was murdered by the man he fought against for so many years, his own cousin.

“Today is reserved for mourning, but tomorrow let it be known that whoever brings me Nolen Novacula dead or alive will be awarded a Lordship and estates in the Glover Region.” She delivered the order with strength in her voice, keeping the wrath back. Her body was still weak from the poison, but she had rested for days, and the authority had returned to her despite the threatening grief. She had wept in Gabriel’s arms for what felt like an hour when he told her.

Faces in the crowd called for vengeance, while others were too disbelieving to wish for anything. The death had fallen heavily on Aisling who had been so close to him. She stood with a composed posture at the front, but tears rolled down her face partially hidden by a dark veil. Cordis held an arm around her shoulders without expression.

Robyn faced Balien again and put a hand on his arm. “Goodbye, brother,” she whispered, tears finally spilling over her rims. She descended the dais to make way for a procession.

Gabriel stepped up behind her to pay his respects while others lined up slowly. He paused looking down at his friend, and she saw his emotionless face betray two tears down his cheeks. He put a hand on Balien’s head and slipped the crown loose, mussing his combed hair. She smiled faintly. Balien’s hair was ever untamed and it did not look right fixed so perfectly.

Gabriel made way for Aisling and Cordis, and stepped down beside Robyn. She melted into the shadows, unwilling to accept condolences from anyone. Gabriel stood blocking her view to Balien, so no one would bother them and dried his eyes.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, “that I could not save him.”

She gripped his forearm. “Do not be ludicrous. This is not your fault.”

His face looked tortured from within, but he shook his head as if dispelling anything he was about to say.

The procession lasted hours, and when it was over, Balien’s body was carried to the catacombs within the palace. He was laid to rest beside his father and mother, sealed up within the stone tombs. Robyn was exhausted when she returned to her rooms with Gabriel.

“Have you been Classing these past days?” she asked with a weary voice, pouring herself a goblet of wine. She lifted one in his direction, but he shook his head.

“Not yet, that begins tomorrow.” He sank into a seat before the hearth and lit it with a snap of his fingers. “We’ve been making sure the Gaelsins are educated enough to lay more than a few patterns.”

“Are they so uneducated?”

“They know patterns dedicated to their craft, stoking fires, cutting stones, or watering and harvesting plants, but when it comes to battle, they know nothing.”

“That will present you with a problem if you plan to use them to fight Ryker.”

He shook his head. “I will fight Ryker. They need to know how to defend themselves if I fail.” He reached out and took her hand. “I…know a pattern to summon a spirit from the spirit world. If you ask it of me, I will summon Balien.”

Her brows rose, but his face was not excited. “I…would like that…but I cannot. I have said my goodbyes.”

He nodded with a faint smile. “That is very noble of you.”

She snuggled under his arm and sat in silence. “I must set sail for Arconia in two days.”

“I can shift you there, you know.”

“I must make port at several stations along the way and see how my kingdom fairs. Perhaps I can shift back when finished with the Eventide celebration. Will you attend with me?”

“I will try, but I fear my duties will keep me in Jaden.”

She pressed her head against his chest and listened to his beating heart. They sat there for the rest of the day, telling stories of Balien and better times.

Chapter 22

Dimitri slouched into the plush chair outside the Classing room, twining his fingers around a slender chain in his pocket. He wasted days and days trying to discover where Dorian Lark’s head had been stowed and lost precious hours when he could have been studying for his Classing.

Demi was still left with the Excellyon in his pocket. Further research proved the relic had great power, but one he had no access to it. No matter how many patterns he looped through it, nor how he wore or held it, it did not yield its hidden energy. He heavily considered asking the Head Mage for help, but it would reveal his associations with Ryker, and Demi could lose everything. He did, however, have a plan.

A tall, slender woman with her hair in a twist emerged from the Classing room. The Council had been Classing all day, but she did not look weary. She would by the time they were finished with the thousands of Gaelsins. They chose them at random as to not offer preference, but since it was Demi’s birth anniversary, he was due today.

“Dimitri Whitestone, ah, yes, Malain’s son. How are you adjusting to the castle?” she asked.

He stood swiftly. “Very well, Councilwoman.”

“We will now begin your Classing. We will test your skill, knowledge, strength and energy. Try to relax and show us the best you can do,” she gripped his shoulder. “You look terrified.”

“Yes, Councilwoman.”

“They all are,” she smiled and opened the door, leading him to a set of stairs built into a large oval table. She took her seat and motioned for him to step up.

The Head Mage sat at the other end with a patient look and nodded a greeting to Demi. He immediately began by laying a Fire pattern. Demi drew from the lanterns in the wall and formed a barrier of fire around him. Balls and lines of flame circled him as if he was the campfire. He formed a whip with expert control. A woman sitting beside the Head Mage shot her eyes to him when the whip was formed, but the Head Mage remained cool and unaffected. Demi gathered the flames and expunged them, pulled heat from the lanterns, and sent it into the table. He skipped fire across his skin and turned flames in his hand from orange to blue. A dozen patterns in, the Head Mage raised his hand for halt.

“Can you attempt a branch-toss-pattern?” he asked.

Demi quickly formed a ball of fire and threw it to the sky. It broke apart in twenty branches.

“How about a snap-pattern?” the Secondhand asked.

Demi obliged, forming a small sphere of flames and slapping it down on the table where it exploded. He held the flames close to keep the Council safe.

“And a boil-ward?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know tha’ one.”

The Head Mage drew from the flames and laid the pattern. Demi replicated it successfully.The Head Mage nodded and smiled. “Well done, Demi. I will meet with you as soon as we reach a decision.”

Demi bowed and showed himself to the waiting room; separate from the first waiting room. He should have been excited or at least anxious waiting for the verdict, but he was wrapped in his next plans. He hardly even realized the Head Mage walk in.

“We have given you the Class of Six,” he beamed.

Demi held his breath as his eyes widened. “But why? I’m as educated as a Gaelsin.”

The Head Mage frowned a little. “Because you are very strong in Fire, not because you do not know everything there is about your Element. That can be learned, but you are born with your strength.”

Demi nodded. “Head Mage, I wonder, where is Dorian Lark buried?”

The Head Mage leaned back and furrowed his brows. “A bit of an odd question, Demi.”

“It’s just tha’ I’ve been researching in the Forbidden Section since we last spoke, and I cannot find anything of his resting place.”

“I believe he is buried here.”

“All of him?” Demi asked. “I read somewhere he was beheaded, and back in tha’ Age people took them as trophies.”

The Head Mage gave him a dismissing smile. “I wouldn’t worry yourself about it.”

“It’s just that I also read in order t’ bring someone back t’ life, you need the whole body, all the bones. I want t’ make sure we have them so the Arch Mages don’t.”

The Head Mage seemed a bit more intrigued. “I can personally allay your fears.”

‘So you do have the head.’
Demi lowered his voice. “Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“The skull of course.”

“No.”

Demi reached into his pocket. “Oh, I forgot t’ give you this earlier. I found it in one of the books.” He pulled out the Excellyon and dangled it on the chain. The Head Mage reached out his hand with a look of amazement, but Demi pulled it back. “Can I see the skull?”

The Head Mage gave him a flat smile and took the Excellyon with a surprisingly quick snap of his wrist. “Pike’s,” he whispered.

“You know it?”

“I thought it was lost to the Ages.”

“Do you know why I can’t use it?”

The Head Mage shrugged. “I cannot either. I believe they are bonded to their owners.”

‘They. You have more than one.’
Demi smiled. “Thank you for the Class, Head Mage.”

The man in white gave a bow of his head and pocketed the Excellyon. “Thank you for finding this.” He gestured to the door before politely returning to the Classing room.

Demi booked it straight for the library. If the Head Mage had the skull, and the specter could move through walls, there was a chance he had seen it. Ignoring his Class and his father waiting, he rushed off into the snow.

It seemed all Gabriel’s waking hours were devoted to Classing. He only paused for meals and sleep. Even those were growing shorter each day. Surprisingly many Gaelsins had come from outlying cities in Tintagaelsing where they received a substantial education in their Elements like Shaun, but for every one like him, there were ten more who knew precious few.

He instated a schooling system to pair Gaelsins with Jadens, switching every few days to ensure the Gaelsins trained in as many patterns as possible. It soon became evident, however, that they knew some patterns Jaden Mages had never seen. There were practical patterns to mix mortar and make paint, while others grew crops rapidly. Few could have been used in battle.

Gabriel put on whatever clothes his hands touched first, rubbing his eyes as he mechanically dressed sloppily. His exhaustion prevented him from dwelling on Balien’s murder and quenched the desire to shift to Maxine and wring Nolen’s location from her. She was still unaware he could search her, and he needed to use that to his advantage, not to his wrath.

“Are you awake?” Mikelle’s voice called from behind his door.

“Not really,” he replied, running a razor-pattern over his cheeks. She let herself in, looking alert and cheerful in a dark green dress. Silver stars pinned up her hair.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Take your perkiness elsewhere.”

“Don’t be so taciturn.”

“I hoped you forgot that word.” He shouldered his coat when Mikelle made a click with her tongue and halted him. She stepped into his dressing room and emerged with another coat. He looked to see he had matched gold-trimmed trousers with a silver-stitched coat, which was apparently the worst fashion taboo. She handed him a gold-embroidered coat stitched with flying birds in negative space. He could not have cared less.

“Have you seen Shaun training?” she asked and smoothed the shoulders of the coat. “You should. Grab a roll and come with me.”

“I’m Classing him today, and I’m supposed to remain absent so I do not accrue bias.”

She patted his arm. “Grab a roll and come with me.”

He followed her out onto the balcony and looked to where she pointed. Many of the roofs of Castle Jaden were flat and used for gardens, but there were several designated for training. Mikelle gestured to the Air one not far away.

Shaun was already fast at work, running through the stone obstacles dotted over the roof. Brunet opponents hid behind the stones and walls, gray patterns in their hands ready to be released.

Shaun suddenly jumped onto a stone and launched himself ten feet into the air. Spinning with two patterns in his hands, he flung them down; one at an opponent and the other beneath him. Stone exploded beneath, but he remained hovered in the air sinking ever so slowly. Gabriel felt the roll in his mouth lose taste as his eyes widened. He had seen an Air Mage hover once before, and she was a Class Ten.

“I’ve never seen the like,” Mikelle whispered.

Someone flung a coil of air at Shaun, and he threw the hand supporting him up. Rather than falling to his feet, he flipped backwards and flung his arms out, landing solidly in a splayed position that offered excellent balance and defense. One arm came up and swallowed the coil with a vortex of wind while the other flung a spiraling pinwheel that knocked a man flat on his back.

Shaun sprung forward with expert agility and landed on his hands, propelling himself into a twist as he came to his feet with a net-like pattern between both palms. He moved so fast, Gabriel had not seen him lay the pattern. It caught two attacks and reversed them. He bolted and jumped atop a wall seven feet tall and flung three patterns to opposite sides. His opponents ducked and scattered, throwing shields and attacks to defend themselves.

“He’s flexible,” Mikelle smiled. He glared down at her, and she gave him her best sly grin. “Very flexible.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

Shaun jumped high hitting the ground hard, and he kicked up a tremendous cloud of dust in a circle. Gabriel’s vision obscured; he leaned forward in anticipation. His breakfast was long forgotten.

The debris came rushing back rapidly and covered Shaun head to toe in moveable concrete armor. He stepped carefully on the balls of his feet, both hands up, as he felt for his opponents. One woman behind a wall flew to her back.

Someone struck a rod of compressed air to his back kicking up a small cloud of dust, but he swung a foot and bent back, dodging the rod and kicking a pattern at the man with his heel. Gabriel ran a hand through his hair and gaped.

Mikelle grinned. “Watch this. Shaun,” she said calmly. “Come join us.”

It took a moment, but Shaun dropped the armor and bowed a head to each of his companions. He threw three patterns out over the side of the building, and taking a running jump, he leapt off the building and hopped on seemingly nothing. Casting the same disc-like pattern out in front of him, he came to their balcony. People in the courtyard watched with amazed faces. Many of them were Jaden Mages.

“How…?” Gabriel breathed.

“How what, mate?” Shaun shook any remaining dust from his hair.

“How did you hear her, for one?”

“Voices carry, and I listen carefully.”

Gabriel flicked his hair out of his eyes. “I’ve never seen anything like that. You shot a pattern with your foot.”

He shrugged. “Can’t everyone?”

“No.”

Shaun straightened. “Oh. Sorry, mate.”

“How did you manipulate the air to hold you up?”

“Air’s power is underrated. It’s very strong. If it can hold up a building while it’s being built, you best bet it can hold a person for a few seconds.”

Gabriel never looked at Air with great interest, mostly because Air Mages had been his main tormenters and partially because he did not control it. “That was excellent to watch. Your Classing is this afternoon.”

“I’ll be t’ere.”

Shaun left them to return to the sparring roof, and Mikelle slipped her hand through Gabriel’s arm. “Quite a catch, that one,” she whispered.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he smiled. “I will be in to Class as soon as I can. Robyn is setting sail this morning, and I need to say farewell.”

“She’s sailing? She knows you cannot search her on water, yes?”

“Yes, we’ve discussed this in depth but she insists. I wanted you to go with her, but I need you here.”

She put her head on his shoulder. “Tell me that again.”

“Oh, pull yourself together, woman.”

“I am almost out of chocolate, by the way.”

He released her arm at his door. “Shame you can’t sidestep!” he grinned and dodged a kick. “Lael, I’ll be in Anatoly for a bit.”

“Very well,” Lael waved.

Gabriel threw on his Mage cloak and stepped through the hinge. Searching her, he zipped towards the Ellonine. Robyn stood on shore as he asked her to, and she smiled with a kiss when he appeared. It did not escape his attention that Balien should have accompanied her, and the familiar crushed heart tensed his chest as his friend came to mind.

“I wish you would let me shift you.”

“You can wish me your best,” she smiled.

He huffed and took her arm into his. “You have my best. Summon me as soon as you land. I will come if I can, but just let me know you made it.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

He stepped her onto the gangplank and walked her aboard the immense vessel amassed with retainers in travel clothes and sailors in white shirts and brown trousers. The ship’s hold was stocked with gifts from Jaden and Anatoly, wine, cloth, seeds, a few Aidenmarian brood mares and a stallion, oils and candles, Milena blades, and hastily-made Megen Street linens. Eventide marked the end of winter and the first day of spring, but for Arconians it was a large celebration. Anatoly and Jaden had few holidays.