The Archmage Unbound

Photography and Cover by
Donna Manning

Illustrations by Michael
Manning

© 2012 by Gwalchmai Press,
LLC

All rights reserved.

Printed in
the United States of America.

For updates, maps, and character
portraits visit the author’s facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/MagebornAuthor

I would like to dedicate this book to my family. They provide a
lot of inspiration for me, in particular my wife, who often serves as a role
model for some of the feistier female characters in the novels. I’d also like
to thank my proof-readers. Their input made this a more enjoyable reading experience
for all of us. You know who you are.

I walked carefully down the stone stairway leading
to the lower parts of Lancaster. Although I had spent considerable time in the
castle during my younger days I had never dared venture into these places
before.

James Lancaster was well known as a fair and
equitable lord; consequently the dungeon of Castle Lancaster had seen little
use during his lifetime, aside from the occasional thief. Recently the war
with Gododdin had changed things, but not as one might expect. There had been
no prisoners in that war, I had seen to that. The memories of that war were
still fresh and I frequently woke trembling at night, though I rarely
remembered the dreams that disturbed my slumber.

Today I had come to remedy one of the problems that
had been held over from that war. One of my allies, a man I had come to
consider a friend, had turned against me near the end. It was no simple
betrayal though, Cyhan had had his reasons. Considered from a different
perspective it might be said that I had betrayed him, rather than the reverse.
The warrior locked up here had acted according to his honor and the trust given
to him by the King, a king who had already declared me an outlaw. In fact the
more one looked at the situation the less Cyhan deserved the cell he was
currently locked within.

None of these thoughts were new; I had mulled them
over almost daily since the end of the battle outside Castle Cameron. I should
have come sooner, but a thousand more urgent matters had kept me away and when
I did have the rare free moment I procrastinated. This was not a conversation
I looked forward to.

I stood now outside a heavy wooden door and with my
mind I could sense the other man waiting within. He had heard me coming long
before I reached the door, but that was no surprise. Being almost completely
empty the dungeon was very quiet, and every sound seemed magnified. I had come
alone though James had urged me to bring several guards with me. The last time
I had faced Cyhan he had been hell bent on sending me to an early grave.

I had declined the offer of guards. I wanted to
talk to him alone. Besides, if he did attempt violence I doubted guards would
be much help. The veteran fighter was quite possibly the most skilled and
dangerous warrior I had ever met. If I couldn’t stop him the guards would just
be additional casualties. I would have brought someone like Dorian with me if
I had thought it might come to that.

Taking a deep breath I removed the bar and with a
thought and a word unlocked the door. I hadn’t brought the key, but locks were
rarely an impediment for me anyway. The smell within was anything but
pleasant. The man I had come to see was sitting at the far side of the room
and he watched me intently as I stepped into the room but made no move to rise.

I looked him over carefully. Cyhan appeared ragged
but in good health. James had made sure he was provided with clean water and
decent food. His hair was unkempt but I could tell he had been doing his best
to wash himself occasionally. A man such as Cyhan wouldn’t let himself fall
into despair. “You look like shit,” I told him casually. Normally I like to
start conversations with a compliment, but none had come to mind.

His face crinkled for a moment, an expression almost
like humor passing quietly over his features, but it was gone before I could be
sure. He declined to respond.

“I am here to settle things between us,” I added.

“You must have set a date then,” Cyhan ventured.

I almost asked him ‘for what’ before I realized he
meant for his execution. “I don’t plan to execute you,” I replied.

“Then you’re a fool.”

“I wonder that you never became a councilor to the
king, your charm is wasted as a warrior,” I answered sarcastically. “I came to
offer you some choices.”

“Forget it. I have done as I swore to do. My
choices were my own, and unlike some I have kept my oaths.” His gaze was
piercing as he said this. It was a deliberate attempt to goad me into anger.

“The last time you used that one on me I lost my
temper. Don’t waste your time with that tactic,” I said. Actually the last
time he had called my mother a ‘failure’ and I had tried to attack him. Too
many things had happened over the past few months for me to lose my cool over petty
insults.

“At least you’re learning,” he responded. “Still, I
will not change my stance. Your only choice is to kill me.”

“
I
will decide what my choices are,” I said
calmly, “and you will listen to what I have to say before you make your own
choice.”

He didn’t waste words by bothering to answer.
Instead he stood up, a slow careful motion that carried a subtle hint of
menace. I watched him intently but continued talking, “The king sent me a
message the other day.” I could see that I had the older warrior’s attention
and his body language conveyed a sense of interest.

“And?” he asked.

“He wants to meet… secretly. He didn’t state his
reasons, but I expect he wants to find a way out of our awkward political
situation,” I elaborated.

“He wants you dead. Your victory here created as
many problems for him as it solved,” Cyhan replied.

“I didn’t think you still cared.” My remark was
sarcastic but my intuition told me that it might not fall far from the truth.

“I think you will be the undoing of mankind and I swore
to put an end to you if the bond were broken.” He paused for a moment before
adding, “Still, if things were otherwise I would gladly call you ‘friend’.”

I almost choked. That was as close to an emotional
confession as I had ever witnessed coming from the stalwart trainer. I covered
my shock with a short laugh. “You never fail to surprise me. Honestly, I’m
starting to think you’d try to kill your own mother if she were in my position.”

He gave me an even stare that answered the question
better than any amount of words could have done. As unsettling as that thought
was, at least he was consistent. I went on, “Do you honestly think I’m still
going mad? It has been over a month since the bond was broken.”

“How would I know? Madness can take many forms.
Are you still hearing the voices?” he asked. I could hear an honest curiosity
in his voice.

“Certainly… I hear them constantly now. I’ve become
quite used to it. It isn’t nearly so unsettling once you realize what the
voices represent,” I said calmly. In truth I could hear the deep thrumming of
the earth below us even now, and the air brought a quiet murmur I had come to
associate with the wind. The world itself was alive, and I could hear it
whispering softly to me with a thousand voices. Now that I understood what I
was hearing it wasn’t nearly as frightening as it had initially seemed.

A shadow passed over Cyhan’s face as I spoke and he
turned away. “Tell me… what do they represent?” His voice was even but my
senses easily picked up the growing tension in his body.

“The world is alive and those who have the right
sort of ears can hear it speaking. That’s all,” I said.

“You say that and still expect me to believe you are
not mad?”

“The wizards before the sundering didn’t have the
bond. Some of them could hear the voice of the earth… and they could call upon
it for aid. Moira Centyr didn’t defeat Balinthor with mere wizardry,” I
answered.

“Lies! Did some dark spirit whisper these things to
you, to convince you your madness was power?” Cyhan turned to glare at me and
his face was lit with anger.

“No. I read them, in a book of history written not
long after the sundering itself. My father’s house has an extensive library
well protected from revisionist priests and politicians.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like… whether you choose to
believe it… or not, is entirely up to you,” I said calmly.

“I couldn’t possibly believe that,” he said.

“Of course you can’t. In order to accept that you
would have to face the possibility that much of what you were taught is a lie,
that the very truths that you based your oath upon, that you have lived your
life for… were false.”

“You’re wasting your time,” the older man growled
under his breath.

“Answer one question for me. If you believed me… if
most of what you had been taught was shown to be false… what would you do
then?” I asked.

Cyhan paused for a moment and I could see him giving
it serious thought. Something approaching sadness settled in his eyes for a
moment before he answered, “I would fulfill my oath.”

“What folly! What meaning does honor have if it
does not serve reason?” I exclaimed.

His face was deadly serious when he replied, “Honor
is all I have and it means nothing if I could change my oaths at a whim.”

“It is worse than nothing if it doesn’t answer to a
man’s conscience!” I spat out. For all my reserve the resolute warrior in
front of me had finally managed to rouse my ire. Not that my anger had any
discernible effect. “I can’t believe I thought you might possibly listen to
reason.” Turning away from him I stepped back into the corridor. “Come on,” I
said, gesturing for him to follow, “it’s time for you to leave.”

He stepped out into the hallway behind me. “You
really are a fool,” he muttered.

I didn’t bother to look back at him, “Don’t push
your luck.” With my extra senses I could see him looking around as he followed
me up and out of the dungeon; even now he was looking for opportunities…
whether they were for escape or murder I didn’t want to know. I led him
through the castle halls and eventually we emerged into the sunlight of the
castle yard.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“The stables,” I replied, not bothering to explain
further. A few minutes later we reached the stable and I told the groom to
fetch my horse. I had ridden to Lancaster that day, rather than use the
teleport circle.

Cyhan raised an eyebrow as I handed him the reins, “What
sort of game is this?” he asked. I could almost hear the unspoken ‘boy’ at the
end of his sentence. At some point during the war with Gododdin he had stopped
adding that to his sentences when he spoke to me, but some habits are hard to
break.

“The king wants me to meet him at a small village
named ‘Tilbrook’ in two weeks’ time,” I said. “I need to send him a reply and
I’m short on messengers. I figure returning you to his majesty’s service will
serve that purpose and get you out of my hair.”

“You want me to tell him you’ll be there to put your
head in the noose?”

“I don’t intend to go. Tell his majesty I will meet
him in his chambers within a day or two of your arrival,” I said.

“I doubt that he’ll welcome that message. If you
intend to sneak into the royal palace it might be wise not to warn him you’re
coming,” he suggested.

“For a man that wants me dead you’re remarkably full
of advice,” I responded. “By warning him in advance I’ll be able to give him
three messages at once. The first being that I can come and go at will,
whether he is forewarned or not, and second that I am a civilized man… otherwise
we would already be looking for a new king.” I stopped there.