The Blackguard (Book 2) (26 page)

Alador nodded pushing away his mug. He rose to his feet. “I had best make my way to my father’s before he becomes concerned.”

Sordith looked from mug to Alador, and then back. “You going to drink that?”

Alador shook his head. “I’m not much of a drinker, truth be told.”

Sordith frowned, grabbed the mug, and upended it. He slammed it down on the table. “Never waste a pint, my dear man. Bad luck.” With that, Sordith rose and headed through the crowd. Alador was still shaking his head as the man slid out the door. He pulled on his cloak and followed suit.

Alador arrived at his father’s lost
in thought. He didn’t knock anymore; it was his home, too. Actually, it was the only home he knew now, other than the small room in the caverns. Alador delighted in these times away, though he was also glad to be taught at the Blackguard. The things he’d been learning were important, and his instructors were good at what they taught. He knew his mastery of magic was tenfold what it has been upon his arrival. Alador had a lot to learn and a long way to go, but he was motivated.

However, this afternoon his thoughts were on Sordith’s words. Was this a trap? The man had seemed sincere, and deep inside Alador felt like he could trust him though he couldn’t explain that to anyone. He wasn’t quite sure himself as he made his way to his father’s
study.  As usual, the room was warmer than the rest of the house.

His father sat by the fire his pipe in hand and was reading. He looked up as Alador entered and put down his book. “You are late.”

“I had some business to attend.” Alador liked the way his father would make simplistic statements of the obvious.

Henrick eyed him and frowned. “Everything all right? I can wait to go east if you wish. I know your mother will be disappointed, but I can make it up to her.”

“No, no, you go ahead and go. Besides, I want you to check and make sure that everyone is all right.” Alador didn’t add that he was looking forward to sometime in the house by himself. Even the servants would be away a great deal visiting their own families.

Henrick paused to puff on his pipe, clearly considering. “She still has not written?” Henrick eyed his son with genuine concern.

“No. Almost ten weeks, and still nothing.” Alador plopped down into the chair dejectedly.

“I am sure she is fine. You knew your magic might come between you.” Henrick moved over to the fire to tap out his pipe. He returned to his seat to repack it, pulling out a bag of tobacco.

“I know. I guess I just thought…That it wouldn’t matter. Maybe I shared too much, too fast.” Alador leaned forward, putting his face in his hands. “I am so tired.”

“You know, if you wanted to send that body servant my way so you could get some sleep...” Henrick trailed off and grinned, looking at his son, his tone teasing as he lit his pipe again.

“I am not sharing a woman with my father. That’s just…wrong.” Alador looked over at Henrick though his head was still in his hands.

Henrick just smirked in response. “What do you want to do today?” he asked, “We could play a game of stones or just talk.”

“No, I really need to learn one thing before you go. There’s a kind of magic we haven’t talked about yet, and I think that I might have encountered it. This person doesn’t really like me, and I’d like to know how to counter it.” Alador sat back up, having come to the realization that he was going to help Sordith. “I think this man can change someone’s will.”

Henrick looked at him for a long moment. “Someone in the guard uses such magic?” he asked, his tone soft and deadly.

“Not exactly.” Alador didn’t want to tell his father of his plans in case he was aware of this slavery. Besides, if his father was away, he could deny any responsibility or involvement should Alador and Sordith fail.

“Alador, such magic is forbidden even by the Lerdenians. Taking the will of another uses dark magic that even the dragons frown upon.” Henrick sat his pipe down in a bowl and looked at his son. “If what you say is true, I need to know who.”

“Wait, what? My magic can kill. A death mage’s magic is designed to kill. How is this considered dark magic when magic actually used for killing isn’t? That doesn’t make sense.” Alador did not understand this at all.

“A man who carries a sword is not necessarily a killer. It is the heart of the man that determines his nature, not the weapon he carries. A sword cannot kill unless it is drawn and used. A man with a deadly poison
has but one intent, and that is to kill. So it is with magic; it is the heart of the mage that determines his nature, not his gifts of sphere. This Jon you’ve spoken of could kill quite easily, but does he?”  Henrick dropped into that tone of teaching he used on their half-days. He rose from his chair to stare into the fire.

“No, not that I am aware of. I’ve never seen him hurt anyone around him, though I’m quite aware that he’s capable of doing so.” Alador watched his father, trying to wrap his head around this new information. He’d always heard whispers of dark magic, but to him…if you could kill with magic, wasn’t it all dark?

“Like an assassin who has figured out how to harness nature to create a deadly poison, some mages figure out ways to twist their gifts with only one purpose: to harm or enslave another. To take the will of a person away is to take away their ability to defend themselves, and that is against the laws of nature,” Henrick answered, running a finger along the marble mantle.

Alador considered this very carefully. “So magic that steals the will of another is in the class of dark magic. What else falls into this category?” He was weighing his father’s words very carefully.

“Blood-based magic is one. While a mage cannot absorb the powers of another mage as they can a dragon, they can use that fresh blood for a short time to enhance or bring about a deadly spell. Mages using blood are put down the moment they are discovered.” Henrick’s tone had hardened as he spoke of this.

“Anything else I should be on the watch for that falls into this category of forbidden magic?” Alador eyed his father intently. Henrick obviously had some experience with confronting such a mage; his tense posture made that clear enough.

“Any spell that can twist the heart of a man against his own nature, Alador. I have heard of dark spells that could make a man take his own life. I have heard of dark, hidden spells that, in the right situation, will set off a series of spells and create a killer out of a simple servant. You have avoided my first question long enough. Who is using such spells?” Henrick turned to look at Alador with an intensity that made Alador lean back in his chair.

“I don’t know yet. I’d hate to accuse a mage without proof…it’s just a rumor,” Alador murmured. “But if it turns out not to be, I will come to you immediately. Until then, how can I defend myself against such a spell?”

“One’s will to do the opposite of what the mage wishes will work if the desire is strong enough. In addition, if you know such a spell is coming, a simple mage shield will work. The problem is few know that such a spell is coming. It’s often put into a simple item that draws the focus of the victim, something harmless or beautiful.” Henrick looked totally disgusted. “I expect you to come to me if such a mage exists; I will drag the carcass before the high council itself.”

“What if it’s someone connected to Luthian?” Alador asked softly. “What if he’s involved?”

Henrick paused at that question. “Than the matter is not so simple. I would have to be sure my evidence was absolute, or remove the mage in question and attempt to leave no trace. But Luthian would not cross this line,” Henrick stated, but he hesitated just enough to show his doubt.

“Well, let’s hope this rumor is wrong. I still need to know more of this dark magic and how to defend against them,” Alador reminded softly. He
still had no doubt that if the mage Sordith spoke of could use such spells, then his uncle knew about it.

“Then let us retire to my casting room.” Henrick turned and headed for the door. Like Luthian, he’d had a room built specifically to protect the rest of the house from whatever happened inside; if a spell misfired, the room would contain it. That was where they usually worked on Alador’s spells, as he had a tendency to pull from more than he intended.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in practice, Henrick throwing up different variations of spells and forcing Alador to defend against them. He used spells that might resemble the ones they’d spoken about, not an exact representation, but close enough that Alador got the basic idea. By dinner, they were both exhausted and ravenous; between the two of them, they ate a whole roast, a bowl of mashed tubers, some sort of salad of vegetables and warm dressing, and an entire pie.

Chapter Twenty

Ala
dor spent the next two days practicing the different deflections his father had taught him. He had learned that, as with a sword, sometimes the easiest defense was not to meet the spell head on, but to let it slide around him. It took less power and less time to create a wedge that let a spell envelope around him, but not touch him.

Keelee was unusually attentive over the last two days. Not that she wasn’t attentive to his every need and seemed to know how to predict it, but this was different. Alador decided to confront her with it the morning of his next half-day to Luthian’s. He dressed in the clothes she’d laid out and as she gathered up yesterday’s and headed out to wash them, Alador gently reached for Keelee’s arm before she could leave, ensuring his grip was firm.

“We need to talk.” Alador’s voice was kind and his grip, though firm, was also gentle. “Set those down for a moment. You can go while I am on duty.” He had guard post this morning and was excused from his classes.

“Oh, if you wish,” Keelee murmured. She set the clothes down and moved her body close to him, her palms immediately trailing up Alador’s thighs. “You should have thought of that before you dressed,” she murmured against his neck.

Alador sighed and moved her back away from him. “I mean actually have a conversation, Keelee.” He turned and led her to sit on the bed, pressing her gently down and then sat down beside her. “You’ve been…Different the last few days. What’s wrong?”

K
eelee fell silent. The wringing of her hands in her lap made it clear that, as Alador had suspected, something was amiss. She didn’t respond, her hair creating a curtain of black, silken strands around her bowed head. Her body was tense beside him.

Alador reached in past that curtain to tip her chin up to look at him, and frowned when he saw tears in Keelee’s eyes. “Talk to me. You may be my assigned body servant, but I thought we were friends. You need to talk to me.”

“You would not understand,” she whispered.

“I have had to deal with some pretty strange things in the last four months. I think you can trust me to at least be open-minded,” he offered. His thumb gently caressed her bottom lip.  She was so beautiful and, in so many ways, seemed so fragile to him. She was a stark contrast to Mesiande.

“I sometimes dream things, things that come true,” she murmured slowly, raising her eyes to him. There was real fear in them and a tear slid down her cheek. “I dreamed that because of me, something horrible is going to happen to you.” She whispered choking back a sob.

Alador tucked her raven hair behind her ear. “I’d be the last one to judge someone because of their dreams. Do they always come true?” His tone was gentle and he wiped away a lone tear.

Keelee slowly shook her head. “I can change them sometimes,” she admitted. “But they usually come true.” Her eyes were so full of tears, he wondered how they didn’t spill over.

Alador gently tried to reassure her. “Well then, we’re forewarned and we’ll be careful. Do you know what it is that you do that causes this horrible thing to happen, or what this horrible thing is?” He reached over and pulled her against him to reassure and comfort her, kissing the
top of her head gently and running his hand up and down her back.

“No, I only know because of me you will be horribly hurt,” she whispers. “I do not want to cause you pain, Alador. This is the happiest I have been since I came to an age where my father’s tier was no longer my home.”

“About that. I would have thought your father could choose to have you live on his tier. Doesn’t he want you to?” Alador frowned wondering how anyone could send Keelee away.

She was quiet for a moment and turned her face into his shirt. Her soft words were barely audible. “He does. Very much so. But to be honest, it was safer for me to work in the High Minister’s house than to remain on the
 second tier. Not everyone seeking a mate does so kindly, and I did not wish to put my father’s business in harm’s way. I have found no one I would want to set up a home with,” Keelee admitted. She gave a soft sigh. “Well, maybe Flame. I do rather like him.”  She smiled with those words, twisting her hair between her fingers absently.

Alador felt a strange twinge of possessiveness, despite having given them his blessing to spend time together. His arms tightened around her reflexively. “If you want to move in with him, Keelee, I wouldn’t stop you.”

“Maybe one day. Unfortunately, Flame doesn’t seem the type to settle on one woman.”  Keelee sighed against his shoulder. She looked up at him, those eyes catching him as usual.

Alador considered Flame’s reputation. “No, you’re probably right. At least, not yet.” He kissed the top of her head again and slowly let her go. “I had best get going. Since you know something’s coming that’s going to cause
me pain, let’s see if we can minimize that. I don’t want you to go out of the caverns without me or Flame.” Alador slowly set her upright as he considered. “I can’t think of what you could do that would cause me pain unless you were hurt. So, let’s make sure you stay safe, all right?” He tapped her nose gently and forced a smile. The truth was, he was a bit concerned about her dream, but he couldn’t stand to see her so upset.

K
eelee smiled back up at him uncertainly. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hands. “All right. I hope your day is restful. I will get this laundry done and go see my father. He likes it when I come to cook for him.” She rose, ever the example of grace, scooping up the laundry she’d dropped.

A
lador watched her go with a concerned gaze. He couldn’t think of anything she could do that would cause him harm; he’d seen her practicing spells, but most of her abilities lay in simple cantrips. Keelee had never shared dreams before, but with Renamaum haunting his own quite regularly, Alador was hardly going to discount hers.

Standing outside the cavern to the Blackguard stronghold was the most boring duty of those he sometimes was given.  Few came to the gaping cavern opening and those that did were there on business.  Most of the day was spent staring down to the corner of the tier. If he were lucky, he would get the harbor side of the opening.  At least then, he could watch the docks, as well.

After Alador had finished guard duty, he scooped up his cloak and headed out of the caverns. He’d made sure his council pass was visible before he even left the water sphere halls.  He was in a fair mood; his uncle had promised a night without feasts or entertaining. Alador had known for some time that his uncle was showing him favor because there was something he either needed or wanted.  He didn’t know what this secret desire was, but he knew it had something to do with the whirlpool spell. The way Luthian had spoken on Alador’s last half-day, suggesting they speak privately at his next visit, made Alador fairly sure that tonight was the night he’d find out.

Alador spent the entire walk up to the top tier lost in thought. Between what his uncle wanted from him and the thought of having to take out Luthian’s stable lord, Alador
had a lot on his mind. He had no doubt now that he was going to help shut that stable down, but he didn’t know where that would leave him with his uncle. He hoped he and Sordith could manage it in a way that his uncle would never know it was him, but that would mean killing anyone that would dare speak of it, and Alador struggled with that thought. Another part of him didn’t care if Luthian found out. With each passing week, he had come to admire his uncle’s skill with politics and subterfuge, but he hated him for the foul creature that he truly was under all that snakelike charm.

The door was opened for Alador before he ever reached it. The guardsmen were all Blackguard, but he didn’t recognize any of them; he supposed that only those that had graduated to an assignment were allowed to guard the High Minister. Alador made his way to his room that he had been allocated for when he visited. As usual, a robe was laid out waiting for him. He quickly divested himself of his armor and washed up. He had been on duty at the port gate earlier that day, so the wash was needed. His uncle didn’t like him wearing weapons, but Alador still kept a boot knife on him at all times regardless. He did not trust his uncle, and even if he had, Luthian had a great deal of enemies that would gladly supplant him if they could.

Alador slipped on a light blue robe. Of the colors his uncle chose for him, he found he liked blue best; he’d always liked it by the water, but now with the powers of a large sea dragon, Alador found himself even more partial to things that reminded him of any body of water. He checked himself in the mirror. He’d started growing his hair out at his uncle’s request; now it was at an irritating length, unruly and always in his eyes. Last week, he’d given up and used magic to make it long enough to pull back to the nape of his neck. Alador took out the hair tie and slicked his hair back with a little water, attempting to tame the unruly locks.

Satisfied that he looked like a proper mage, Alador set out for the practice room. He was met by a young woman who whispered swiftly that Luthian was waiting for him in the library.  This was unusual, usually Luthian joined him at his studies.  He nodded to the young woman and turned to set off in the direction of the library.

It never boded well to keep Luthian waiting as it seemed that he ran his life on a strict timetable. When he reached the library, he knocked on the door, as was his uncle’s preference, and waited for one of the guards inside to open the door for him.              When he entered, Luthian was sitting before a warm fire with a small table loaded with food set between the two chairs. Alador bowed low before Luthian. “Uncle, ever a pleasure to see you.” Alador smiled with the same oily charm his uncle often used.             

Luthian smirked into his glass of wine. “Liar.”

Alador smiled and slid into a chair. “I learned only from the best, sir.”

“How goes your training this week?” Luthian asked, as was his custom. His tone and casual manner had become commonplace.

“Nothing new this week. I’ve been practicing the maelstrom and learning the spells of lightning and combining that energy with water. I love working with the elements of a thunderstorm – I find them most intriguing.” Alador poured himself a cup of tea.

“Can you create a storm yet?” Luthian asked watching the young man before him.

“No. I’ve not even been able to form a small raincloud yet. I am still quite early in my studies, Uncle. I pray to the gods you would not expect me to master that in less than a season?” Alador looked up at him curiously. “I was quite excited to master the whirlpool.”

“I suppose I am impatient,” Luthian admitted. A tight smile graced his lips, but not his eyes. “I have plans, and I need a strong storm mage to make them come to fruition.”

So this was it – he had need of Alador’s powers for something specific. “What plans? Perhaps if I understood what you were seeking, I could focus my learning to help you meet your goal.” He presented himself as the ‘ever-willing-to-please’ pupil but deep down he suspected that Luthian knew it was as much an act as his doting uncle routine was.

Luthian set down his wine glass and sat back in his chair. His fingers tapped together; the man was clearly considering what to share with Alador. “There is a country in the Otherlands that has a large fleet with the capacity to infiltrate our shores. It is my suspicion that a recently lost trader vessel was not lost to the ocean, but to their fleet.” He looked at Alador with such intensity that Alador’s cup stilled in his hand. Luthian’s voice quieted and he stared past his nephew, as if imagining the immensity of the storm he sought. “If a mage could bring a storm, he could protect our shores and drive this fleet
onto the rocks. You would be a viable protection to the isle, Alador. Or, should we decide to stretch our own wings beyond the isle, a valuable person to have at my side were we to encounter any resistance.”

Alador sat for a time, watching his uncle, forcing himself to take a drink of his tea. He did not miss the look of greed in his uncle’s eyes, nor the licking of his lips as he finished speaking of resistance. “Surely, you have other storm mages?” He asked the question with a boy’s simple curiosity.  However, his eyes were locked on his uncle with a far more discerning gaze than the tone of his voice implied.

“None that can manifest a strong enough storm to crush an attacking fleet. It is my hope, nephew, that this large stone of yours has given you enough power to protect this isle before the enemy can ever set foot upon it.” Luthian had not moved from his relaxed position, confident in his words as his fingers tapped together.

“What of your own vast power, Uncle?” Alador flashed him a look of admiration.

Luthian’s eyes darted to him. “Do not think I am too weak to do such – that is not the problem. A fire mage could bring fire down upon such a fleet and yes, he could wreak much havoc.” Luthian put a hand out, palm up, and it filled with a ball of dancing fire. “But if their ships have mages, they could shield against such fire just as easily.” He closed his hands dramatically, snuffing the fire. “But a storm? Few would suspect a mage behind a storm. There have only been a few in history who could draw such mastery from the elements.”

Alador carefully set his teacup down and picked up a bit of cheese, tossing it into his mouth and chewing before speaking. The tension between them was thick. “Such a mage could also destroy Daezun crops, drive
them into the ground with pelting hail, and flood them from their riverside villages.” He picked up a cake and sat back to watch his uncle.