Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4)
Read Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) Online
Authors: Jenna Van Vleet
Chasing Bloodlines
The Father of the Fifth Age Book Four
By Jenna Van Vleet
Edited, Produced, and Published by Writer’s Edge Publishing 2014
All rights reserved.
© 2014 by Jenna Van Vleet.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Other Books by Jenna Van Vleet
The Father of the Fifth Age series
Dedicated to: Lance Conrad, a powerful author and even better friend.
Chapter 1
The Prince of Arconia held out a goodly long time before finally divulging what Arch Mage Ryker wanted to know. By that time, however, it was certain Queen Robyn had already made it safely behind Jaden’s walls. Ryker left the boy to fester unhealed and washed his hands of blood. Prince Virgil would be useful again later.
Ryker sought out Evony. The Arch Mage had taken to her new body with great speed and was already on her feet. Ryker found Evony in the great room, slowly pacing before the windows. She dressed in traditional Shalabane garb: a long flowing tunic, loose silk trousers banded with a braided belt, a short colorful coat, and wrapped boots, all in deep rusty orange hues. Her back hair tied in a bun on her head, a sharp comb sticking out the side. The only part of her ensemble she did not wear were the ribbons of her Elements around her forehead.
She smiled when she saw Ryker. He had been able to smooth the years from her cheeks, but the eyes were still old and wizened. She looked in her thirties, rather than her true age a score older.
“How fare y’?” he asked, clicking his cheek.
“Wondrous well,” she nodded. “I hope to see Dorian soon.”
“As do I.” Evony was terribly powerful controlling every Element but Spirit, but her power had waned on her senses long before Ryker first met her. Usually, he was able to teach Class Tens to handle the power without letting it tax their minds, but she was beyond his help. She was a wildfire when not under his control, but he reined her in with a simple command or a sturdy look. Now, she was a dutifully contained explosion, ready to snap where he sent her.
She had been his interrogator. Despite having no control over Spirit, she tortured information out faster than Ryker on many occasions. She knew the plants and animals that packed poison, knew just how much water the body could hold without drowning, or how much to draw without stopping the heart. She could suffocate and immobilize, burn just the right nerves to cause the most pain, and adjust the body temperature to the edge of death.
She did not so much torture people as she did hold them over the precipice of the spirit world and give them the option of divulging information.
“There you are,” came Maxine’s familiar voice behind Ryker. He turned to smile but saw her glum expression, and frowned.
“What is the matter?”
She took a seat. “I failed you.”
“How so?” he asked, beginning to worry.
“The Head Mage did not fall for my wiles. I played him as we discussed, and he played me back.”
Ryker smirked. Maxine was not a woman who took failure easily.
“But he achieved the white hair,” she grinned. “I told him it was Void mastery.”
“Excellent. Did you a’ least get under his skin?”
“Oh, aye, and all over it a few times.” Her eyes glazed over for a moment. “I nearly had him last night.”
“How many patterns did y’ teach him?”
“Only enough to whet his appetite.”
“And the searchers-pattern?”
“Oh, of course not.”
“Y’ never did find that Secondhand ring did y’?”
“Nay, it was lost when I was mummified.”
He nodded and clicked his cheek. “How far is he from breaking?”
She smiled wistfully. “Not fa’.”
“Very good. I want y’ to come with me to Arconia. It seems the Head Mage has captured their Prince ac is going to execute him.”
“Is that so?” Maxine smirked and stood. “I have not seen Shshonan Palace since it was completed.”
Ryker took a cream pillow and pulled the threads apart. He put them back together over Maxine’s shoulders to dull the seductive effect of her low-cut dress. It did not help much. He adjusted his black and white coat, bade Evony farewell, and took Maxine’s hand to shift them across the lands.
For a while nothing but blurred trees and smudged towns blew by, but to reach Arconia, they had to travel under the sea. The world became strikingly white as they shifted into the depths of the ocean. Outlines of ghostly animals brushed by as white too faded to pale gray and darkened. Arconia was made up of a dozen extinct volcanos that shaped the earthen floor, drawing the land up at a sharp angle. In some places heat still bubbled from the ground, threatening to build other islands.
Arconia suddenly reared up in their vision. Rabier was a rich city, brought on by the natural wealth of their lands. Less than an Age old, it was new compared to the rest of the world and had not fallen into disrepair. Shshonan Palace was smaller than Kilkiny, but far grander in splendor. It was a tall structure and locked with dozens of bridges from one turret to the next, all in black and white. Bold towers capped with spiraled black and white bulbous roofs came to a point, built in staggered steps all around.
Ryker deposited them in the courtyard to the great astonishment of the guards in green livery. Soldiers raised their halberds as they approached. Maxine, on Ryker’s arm, marveled at the structure as he led her forward. Neither of them spoke Arconian, a bastardized compilation of Bodelin and the native Arcon, an extinct culture. However everyone understood Mage.
Ryker laid a glow pattern as he approached a set of black doors. “I wish to speak with your King.”
The men looked between themselves, and one slipped inside. He returned minutes later with an older soldier with gold circles on his collar.
“I help,” the man bowed.
“I seek an audience with your King.”
“Ah, King, yes. Very busy.”
“Ne too busy par me.”
The man frowned. “Too busy.”
“This concerns Prince Virgil.”
“Pansa Virgil?
“Danger.”
“Oh,” the man nodded and waved them in.
The palace was just as lovely inside, with black and white tiles and black stone walls trimmed with gold fixtures. The soldier’s canvas boots made no sound as he marched them through the halls, flanked by two guards. Dignitaries paid them little mind, but the men stared at Maxine. Ryker glanced down to see her shawl had fallen off a shoulder—on purpose no doubt.
“Wait here,” their escort stated and slipped behind a door. He was gone for some time, and Ryker debated shifting them in. But he finally reappeared, bowed, and opened the door.
It led to a dark hall lit by candle sconces that led to a shiny black door. A soldier with five blue bars on his collar—the sign of a Water Mage—guarded it. He opened the door to reveal a small round library with slender windows. An older man with a neatly trimmed white beard sat below a window reading. He looked up as they stepped in.
“Your Grace, I am Mage Anlin, ac this is my wife Mage Merisa. Thank y’ par seeing us on such notice.” Ryker bowed.
“I am King Victor. Please sit. You bring word of my son?” His voice was deep, and his accent slight. He spoke with a commanding air as he gestured to seats. “Wine?”
A girl in black stepped off the wall startling Ryker for a second, for he had not felt her kinetic energy. She poured two goblets made of thin horn.
“You have come far to bring me news,” King Victor said and closed his book. “What warrants such a journey?”
“I fear your son is in great danger,” Ryker plied as he took his wine. “The Head Mage has captured him.”
The King frowned. “The Head Mage? Oh, yes, now I understand. The man my wife slighted and the Head Mage are one and the same. How do you know these things?”
“We are Mages under his rule.”
“And what will your Head Mage do to my son?”
“Execute him in a week.”
The man rubbed his eyes with a hand. “Was this Queen Robyn’s doing?”
Ryker proceeded cautiously. “I do ne think so.”
“So the Head Mage took him without warrant.” He stared deeply into Ryker.
“Aye, it seems such.” Ryker replied with a controlled calm.
King Victor leaned back against the bookcases. “Castle Jaden has never been breached. I would bash my armies against his walls until we were nothing left.”
“Y’ would not need t’. Arrive a’ his doorstep, ac lure him out. Bring enough Mages t’ make a clean kill. I warrant y’ still have the ladies what visited him already. Do y’ have enough Mages to sidestep to Castle Jaden?”
He tapped his fingers on his book. “Yes. Why did Mage Mikelle not come to tell me this?”
“She was occupied elsewhere.”
“What motive does the Head Mage have?”
“Jealousy. Prince Virgil offered himself t’ be Queen Robyn’s betrothed. The Head Mage was wroth with jealousy when she chose your son. The Head Mage has robbed y’ of your peace treaty.”
“Showing up on his door will not aid that.”
“Nay, Queen Robyn is furious. If y’ can save Prince Virgil, I have ne doubt she will sign your treaty.”
The King looked to the girl on the wall and snapped off something they did not understand, but the girl politely nodded and left.
He turned to Ryker. “One week, you said?”
Gabriel slipped peacefully from his dreams for the first time as long as he could remember. He lay there for some time running over the events of the previous night.
‘Today I face the Council.’
He sat up and saw Robyn curled with Coal on her pillow, tangled up in her hair. She opened an eye and smiled. He leaned over and kissed her cheek before rising to bathe and dress. He chose a vest made of sturdy canvas to look like well-fitted armor, for today he would do battle against his Council and fight for the Head Mage Seat.
“Your hair is getting long,” Robyn commented as he emerged.
“I’ve had bigger things to worry about,” he replied.
“You should wear the trousers with stripes up the outer seam. You look taller and more imposing.”
“I don’t need fashion advice.”
“Are you going to get someone to seal that wound for you?”
He nodded. “I put together a dress for you with the remnants of your clothes and some of my garments. Please excuse me.”
He slipped into his study, but Mikelle was not there. His heart sank. By now she would have already told Lael, and he would be rounding up the Council. He sauntered into the anteroom slowly and Mikelle stood before Lael’s desk. Lael was bent over, a hand across his mouth as he stared at the desk. Gabriel swallowed and stopped in the doorway.
Lael looked up and his hand fell away. “Good morning, Head Mage. It seems Mage Falon is ill, so I think I am going to have you train with Mage Derinna after breakfast.”
Gabriel looked at Mikelle with wide eyes. She slowly rotated to show his breakfast perched on her opposite hip.
“I—I heard Mage Malain arrived last night,” Gabriel replied, “and as he is the only other known Creator, I would like to meet with him as soon as possible.”
“Very well. I will send him a summons. Do not let me keep you from your breakfast.”
Mikelle smoothly walked past Gabriel and slipped into his sitting room as he closed the door behind. “You didn’t tell him?” he breathed.
“I reconsidered.”
“But why?”
“Because being Head Mage is not easy, and sometimes I forget you keep secrets to benefit us all.”
He grabbed the tray from her hip and set it aside. He wrapped her in both arms tightly. “I don’t deserve your friendship.” He kissed her forehead.
“Chocolate,” she muttered through his clothing. “Did you lie with her, truly?”
“I didn’t,” he released his grip, but she held on. “I’m not sure I could have.” She squeezed him all the tighter.
“I assume Robyn is still here,” she released him and took up the tray again.
“She is.”
“Did you finally make nice with the surrounding kingdoms?”
“Don’t patronize me, woman.”
“Don’t be so taciturn.”
“I don’t think you know what that word means.”
They walked into Gabriel’s study. Robyn was dressed, holding Coal. “I’ve not seen him look so happy in a while.” Robyn said to Mikelle, “What did you slip in his tea?”
“Liquor,” Mikelle smiled and set the tray down, “and heavy narcotics. Right now he thinks he’s a princess. Tell him he looks pretty.”
Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need more male friends.”
“Speaking of which, have you seen Balien recently?” Robyn asked as she took a seat at the table Mikelle set.
“A week or so ago?”
“He’s been in battle since.”
“I have a Spirit Mage out there with a line to me. If Balien is in jeopardy I will be summoned.”
They took their seats and lifted lids to porridge, eggs, ham, and stewed tomatoes.
“I will be meeting with Mage Malain this morning,” Gabriel said as he spooned his plate. “I assume I will be thanking him for transporting you. Anything else I should know about?”
Robyn took the opportunity to sip her tea an exorbitantly long time. “His son Demi is coming up on his twentieth birth anniversary, and he is a very accomplished Fire Mage.”
“And?”