Highmage's Plight (Highmage’s Plight Series Book 1) (22 page)

She fell with a stunned groan. Thomi stood shocked at the scene as Cle’or came out of hiding. 

“You didn’t hurt my mother did you?”

Cle’or blinked in confusion. What kind of place was this?

Se’and awoke lying in a small metal cage. It gave her barely enough room to sit up. Straw covered the floor, making her itch.

“You’re awake. I was growing worried.”

She glanced back at Balfour, “What’s happened?”

He shrugged, “What do you think, Me’oh?”

No matter how hard Se’and tried to crane her neck, the older Cathartan was out of her line of sight.

Me’oh chuckled grimly, “We’ve walked right into a trap again.”

“Where are you?” Se’and muttered.

“Up here, hanging from the ceiling.”

“Je’orj?”

“We’re the only ones in here,” Balfour concluded. “Wish I knew how this happened. Lord Raslinn was so kind to me when I was here before.”

Se’and grimaced, “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think back. Was he really so kind to you?”

Balfour hastily replied, “Of course, he was!” His vehemence surprised him. He took a deep breath and concentrated. A wave of dizziness filled him, leaving him confused, uncertain what he was trying to do.

Me’oh saw his reaction and nodded, “Se’and, you’re right. He’s been bespelled with a false memory.”

“What are you talking about?” he rasped.

Se’and shook her head, “Likely your every memory of your visit through here is false. If Je’orj were here he would likely tell you to just keep repeating that to yourself.”

He shrugged, feeling dizzy again. He hardly heard her, the word false ringing through his mind. “False?” he muttered, then his eyes widened in anger. “False. False memories! How dare he?!” He had a sudden terrible headache. “False memory,” he mumbled.

Me’oh shouted at him, “Balfour, are you alright?”

He slumped forward, then shook his head, “I… I remember. Oh my, I remember it all.”

There was laughter as the door opened, “Delightful!  You’ve broken the enchantment! I must admit that that is quite impressive.  None who have travelled this way ever have.” 

Balfour stared at Lord Raslinn and for the first time saw him as he truly appeared. He was no elf. The sallow skinned, pointy-eared, seven-foot-tall goblin chuckled mockingly. “You told me so much of the goings on at the capital, and your story of failure was so sad. Yet at the time I released you, like I must so many others, I could not imagine any further value from so miserable a creature. How ironic! Here you’ve brought me my master’s greatest desire.”

Se’and quietly tested the bars that caged her as their enemy continued to gloat.

“The death of the human mage will be so sweet added to my part in the coming invasion! Guards, take this one to the gallery!”

Her cage was roughly hefted and carried out as Balfour shouted, “Let her go!”

The goblin mage laughed, “Oh, you shall have your turn later!”

George jerked, awakening with a start. He lay in a sumptuous bed, but had no idea how he had come to be here. Then Fri’il entered carrying a tray of food.

“Oh, you’re awake. We were getting worried.”

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Niota, the keep at the edge of the Empire. Don’t you remember?”

Bleary, he shook his head. “Where are Se’and and the others?”

“Eating dinner.” She sat beside him and offered him a drink.  The beverage was refreshingly tart, reminding him of a favorite drink he had not had in a very long time. Abruptly, he felt dizzy and lay back. There was something else he should remember, but what was it?  It was so strange. He felt so tired.

Fri’il smiled warmly, her gaze slightly out of focus.

Thomi chaffed his wrists as he limped along at Cle’or’s side. “Is there another way inside?” Cle’or asked.

“When my mother does not return they will send someone else.  You must leave this wicked place!”

Cle’or paused beside him. “Listen, Thomi, my friends are in trouble. If I don’t help them no one will.”

A bell was rung and raggedly dressed people, young and old, hurried toward the main hall across the courtyard. Trembling, the boy gestured toward the sound.

“You hear that? They are already as good as dead.”

She shook his shoulders, “Just tell me how to get inside without attracting attention. I will do the rest.”

Grimly, he took her hand and led her, “There is only one way I can think of, but your only chance is if I’m with you.”

Thomi took her to the rubble of a fallen building and they were able to slip past a broken doorway by crouching. Torches bracketed one wall and Cle’or lit one then followed Thomi into the dark corridor.

After a time they reached an intersecting passage. Something growled in the darkness as Cle’or drew her sword and spun to confront it. A massive arm pushed her back, sending her sprawling. It shambled forward as Thomi shouted, “No, Walsh! It’s all right! She means you no harm!”

Cle’or gaped as the hulking eight-foot-tall ogre paused and turned to the boy, then smiled crookedly, “Tho-mi?”

“It’s me, Walsh! She rescued me!”

The ogre gave a sob and brokenly explained, “Mara… said… master… kill…you…unless…’

“I know that, Walsh!”

The ogre quickly lifted the boy off the ground and hugged him.  “Tho-mi…live. Only friend…not…die.”

To Cle’or’s astonishment, Thomi fervently hugged the creature back. The ogre gave a soft croon of pleasure. “Put me down now, Walsh. My new friend and I must get into the hall to try and save her friends!”

A bell rang out again and immediately the ogre stiffened and set the boy down. “He…summons.” His gaze grew distant. “He…wants me kill.” The ogre shook himself, “Tho–mi…must go! Not safe!”

The bell echoed once more and the ogre took an involuntary step away, then another. The boy took Cle’or’s hand and led her down the passage opposite the retreating ogre. There were tears in his eyes. “We must hurry! There is little time!”

“What do you mean that he’s gone?” Raslinn rasped at the cowered woman Mara, who sported a sizeable bump on her head.

“I went as you commanded, Master! Then I was knocked unconscious!”

“Fool! Guards! Find Thomi! I’ll not have this spectacle ruined!” Then he looked at the woman darkly. “Your punishment should at least prove amusing.”
 

Raven blinked sleep from her eyes, no longer in human form, but in her beast shape. About her neck she wore a jewelled collar. She tried to shake it off, then willed herself to change but nothing happened.

Light suddenly filled the pit around her. The walls were lined with seated people, staring at her in fascination. She heard a grim laugh then saw the goblin come into the light.

“You are collared to our dark master’s will once more, were-child!” 

Raven growled at Raslinn. 

“You will do my will! And since you must be famished, here is a morsel for you.”

He drew a frightened woman up beside him and callously tossed her screaming into the pit. “Enjoy!” he shouted and turned to the staring, raggedly dressed crowd, who abruptly applauded. 

“Good, that’s better,” he preened. “That should teach the dratted boy the price of daring to disobey me."

Cle’or and Thomi heard the screaming as they came out behind the seats lining the pit. Thomi stared from their vantage in horror. Cle’or’s gaze narrowed as Raven in beast form shuddered and rose at the sight of the terrified woman.

Raven growled, then took half a step forward before twisting about, fighting the geas placed upon her.

Raslinn shook his head, “This will not do at all.” He raised his left hand. “Lower it!”

There was a creaking noise from high above. Cle’or watched a cage bearing Se’and swaying into the light. 

“This should serve as incentive, my pet! Now kill the morsel before you!”

Raven howled and bit at the air.

A stooped old man guarded the door to the others’ cell. Balfour closed his eyes and mentally reached out to him. The man suddenly began breathing hard, then glanced sheepishly into the room. He looked up at Me’oh and muttered, “My, my, what a lovely specimen.”

He took his key and opened the door. The old fellow’s face was flush as he entered. His clawing hands reached for Me’oh ankle. She kicked at him. 

“Feisty. I like that.”

Me’oh glanced at Balfour and frowned, noting his deep look of concentration. She suddenly smiled, “You want me? That’s too bad since I’m locked in here.”

“So? I’ve the key?” he held it up. “Just promise me a kiss?”

She grinned, “Just a kiss?”

He hurriedly put the key in the lock and turned it. Me’oh kicked outward sending him sprawling. He shook his head to clear his addled wits. “What am I thinking?” he muttered.

“Sleep now,” Balfour whispered in answer. The man’s eyes shut and he slumped to the floor snoring lightly. Balfour opened his eyes as Me’oh hastened from her cage and grabbed the key.

“Give a girl some warning next time,” Me’oh said.

Balfour took a deep calming breath, “Nice work.” 

Moments later they were both free. Me’oh thoughtfully closed the cell door behind them, wishing the man well in his slumber.
 

Raven raced forward and swatted her prey. The woman cried out in fear, “Please, master, no!”

“This is the boy’s fault! You knew what I wanted from him and you let him escape!” he responded.

Raven leapt. The woman fell backwards as Raven’s gaping jaws snapped just inches from her throat.

She struggled to fend off the beast. “No! Please!”

Intelligence flashed in Raven’s eyes and she turned her gnashing teeth to the side.

Thomi stepped into the light and faced the goblin, “You wanted me here?”

Raslinn stared incredulous, raised his hand, and muttered a half-heard word. The geas instantly restrained Raven’s attack.  “Who freed you?”

Thomi laughed, “What? You didn’t appreciate my little trick?”

“Boy, do you want to join her?” the goblin mage shouted.

“Release my mother and I’ll order Walsh to obey you.”

The goblin glared at him, then shouted, “Throw down a rope, then make ready to release the ogre. The main event is about to commence!”
 

Thomi took a deep breath as his mother was helped from the pit. He then looked worriedly across its length. A thick wooden door was raised. The ogre stepped into the pit and saw the waiting pale beast with a black mane.

Raven growled at him as Thomi winced.

“This will be a fight to the death!” the goblin mage shouted. “To the winner goes the morsel!” he added laughing, gesturing at the glaring Se’and.

The ogre glared at the self-styled Lord of Niota. The goblin smiled and uttered an elvish word. Stiffening in pain, the ogre bellowed, then the mage pointed at Walsh.

“Beast, kill this creature!”

Raven raced across the pit.

“Walsh! Defend yourself!” Thomi cried as the ogre grimaced and met the beast’s charge.

Cle’or had sidled away from Thomi. The audience’s attention was completely focused on the scene before them. She drew two throwing daggers and moved to a position directly behind her target. The voice of the elf in her dream whispered to her an idea. Her eyes widened.

 Se’and, dangling above the monstrous battle, beat futilely on the bars, gaping at the fight her ward found herself in. “I have to get out of here!”

Something came through the bars and landed beside her. Se’and stared at George’s discolored metal dagger. She dared not glance about and draw any attention. Cautiously, she edged toward the knife, then hefted it and moved to pick the cage’s lock.

The ogre groaned as Raven’s claws cut his arm. He flailed his other arm, striking the beast and sending it toppling end over end.  She shook her head as she rose with a scream of rage.

The ogre shambled in a lope toward her, swinging his fists like a mace. Raven ducked then jumped and bit down hard on its heavily muscled bicep. In agony he turned and slammed her to the ground. As she held on with her teeth clamped, the ogre twisted and slammed her again and again.

The crowd cheered. Half dazed, Raven let go and hastened a few steps away. When she came up, the ogre was staring darkly at her, blood streaming from its arm and from the cuts it had taken. 

George felt drugged. He blinked, doing his best to move, to concentrate. He fought the haze and found Fri’il seated at his side. She straightened, “Thank the Lords! We thought we had lost you! You’ve been fevered for days!”

“Fevered?” he mumbled. He mentally reached out for rapport and didn’t find it. His computer staff was originally intended as a tool, an extension of his mind, but since falling into this world it felt more like it was the other half of himself. Without it, he felt incomplete.

She brought a drink brought to his lips. He shook his head violently, spilling it all. 

“Oh, my, look what you’ve done?” She dabbed at the spill, then bent and kissed him passionately.