The Castrofax (13 page)

“Kieran,” Ryker said, rolling the man’s name
over his tongue and made a clicking noise that caused his captive
to jump a little. “Tell me more of this Class Ten.”

“I…know nothing,” the man stated with a thick
backwoods accent recognizable even in this Age.

“Shall I repeat mineself t’ hear the same
answer?” he asked and stopped. Councilman Kieran marked his
movement and stuttered a little, dripping spittle and blood down
his once-nice green coat.

“I know little,” the man said and tried to
adjust his hands that were well secured behind his back. His
fingers bound to each other. “I tested him near four years ago and
‘aven’t seen no sight of him since.”

“Tell me more of his power. What Elements
does he wield? Does he have any special skills? Which is his best
Element?” he asked calmly. To his dismay, his captive said nothing.
It seemed the man was not yet broken.

Ryker abruptly about-faced while unsheathing
his belt knife and grabbed one of the Mage’s fingers. Kieran had no
time to protest as Ryker severed an index finger at the second
knuckle. The man screamed in agony, throwing his head back. His
voice echoed through the stone room. Ryker threw the finger at his
feet and brushed the blood off his hands.

“If I ask again, y’ will lose the whole hand,
joint by joint.”

The Councilman bit his lip holding back
fierce tears. A Mage without hands was like a racehorse with a
broken leg. “Will you let me live?”

“If I like your answers.”

“Please, I have a wife and babes.”

“Go on then.”

Kieran squeezed out two tears. “His…his best
Element was Spirit.”

Ryker gave an approving nod and began his
circling again. “Continue.”

“H-he is a Creator as well, the…the only
Creator left alive.” His face paled a little more as the blood
leaked from his finger.

“His Elements,” Ryker prompted and stopped.
The man jumped a little, but he fell silent. Ryker took two strides
forward and grabbed him by his shoulders, tilting the chair back.
“Which Elements does he wield!” he yelled into the Mage’s bloodied
face.

“Please,” Kieran whispered.

Ryker grabbed his other ear and unsheathed
his blade violently.

“Air!” Kieran yelled as the blade touched
him.

“Ac which others?” Ryker snapped.

“No, Air is the only one he
doesn’t
wield,” Kieran whimpered, tears starting anew. Ryker’s pushed
Kieran back. The chair’s legs buckled, and he fell to his side.

“Void as well?”

Kieran spat blood from his lips. “Void was
lost to the Ages when the Library of Karth burned.”

Ryker put a hand on his face that left a
smear of blood across his cheek.
‘Quad-wielders were rare even
in my days,’
he thought. “Amazing what the bloodlines spit out
if mixed correctly,” he muttered and faced the man who was trying
to ease the twist in his shoulders. Ryker knew his hibernation left
him waned, so he did not chance lifting the man back up. “Tell me
more. Why was he kept a secret?”

The Councilman lifted his head from the
puddle of blood his ear formed. “It is said he is protecting
someone. We know not who.” Kieran’s tone slurred a little. “He
wished us to keep him secret so…others would not seek him out
and…in turn find his charge.”

“Surely y’ must know who this ward is since
y’ are a member of the Mage Council,” Ryker scoffed. “Or is that
false as well?”

“We were not told. I doubt the Head Mage
knows since the ward is not a Mage herself.”

Ryker shot his eyes to the ceiling. “Herself?
And yet y’ do ne know anything.”

Kieran blinked a little, seeming to lose his
bearings. “I do not know, but I suspect. I thought it might be the
lost Princess of Anatoly.”

“Aye, Kindle Novacula. I have heard of
her.”

“No, not her. The daughter-heiress, Robyn
Bolt.”

Ryker had not heard much of her.
“Explain.”

“Wh-when Queen Rincarel Bolt died, her sister
Miranda Novacula took the throne, but there was a plot to kill
Bolt’s daughter and secure the…Novacula’s power. Before Her Grace
died, the girl vanished.” Kieran coughed and spat out a wad of
blood. “Some say she died, some say she was captured, and others
say she lives freely.”

“Why has she ne taken the throne?”

“She is not old enough…though she should be
before winter arrives.”

‘
That explains the Princeling’s timing ac
urgency.’
Ryker began his pacing again, stepping over the man’s
head. “Where are the rest of mine Castrofax?”

The Councilman’s breathing stopped for a
moment. “I do not know.”

“How many does Castle Jaden hold?”

“I’ve never heard it said.”

“Do you know how many I have?” Ryker asked
and clicked his cheek. “Two, which means there are four what Jaden
may possess. Would y’ like t’ wear one, Councilman? Have y’ ever
seen a man wear
two
Castrofax? I have; it’s quite amusing. A
man loses his senses par a time, then begins t’ shrivel ac wane as
his body fights against itself. It is quite against nature, but is
it ever entertaining.” He gave a mad laugh and for a moment seemed
to lose his own senses.

Ryker clicked a cheek and took a knee beside
the Councilman’s head. The leather in his new boots creaked loudly.
He had always loved the feel and looks of boots and had been rather
disappointed when the Third Age fancied short shoes and slippers,
but what was old was always new again. He took a fistful of the
man’s stringy hair. “I know there is some small part of y’ in there
what still bears hope par your rescue or par justice perhaps, but I
will tell y’ mine secret before I kill y’. I gave a Castrofax t’
your Princeling, the Nolen boy, ac he is going to put it ‘round the
neck of the only man what stands against me. Be glad y’ die today,
par the world will be bleak when I rise.”

The Councilman squirmed and tried desperately
to pull his hands free. Tears fell freely. “At least let me kiss my
babes one last time.”

“I will send y’ in their direction,” Ryker
smiled wickedly as he pulled the shiny Excellyon from his doublet.
The Councilman knew what the medallion was tried all the harder to
pull free. He sobbed, reaching out with his bound hands to feel for
any Earth energy he may have missed in his earlier searches.

“Please,” he blubbered as Ryker slipped a
string of Spirit through the metal and it into Kieran. Slowly,
energy from the man seeped into the medallion. Kieran’s struggles
became less forceful, and his head eventually fell back into its
puddle. “May the stars fall upon your head,” he cursed with his
last breath, and died.

The little energy collected, Ryker brushed
his hands and left the room.

After a few preparations, he flipped together
a pattern and located Nolen to appear in his tent. The Prince was
still awake, picking his teeth with a knife in the dark. He jumped
when Ryker appeared, cutting his upper lip.

“Y’ have gone a half-day too far east. Double
back north. If y’ reach a town, y’ have gone too far.”

“Jensanisbel?” Nolen asked, grabbing a cloth
to stem the bleeding. Ryker did not know or care, so he said
nothing and waited for the Prince to confirm his directions. “I
will go. Give me time to send for my army to bring him in.”

Ryker thought that was reasonable, and was
even a little impressed the Prince had his own army. That was
something he would build in time. After all, it was his army of
followers in the past that gave him true power. “Send par Spirit
Mages. He will most like ne go easily.” Nolen gave him a glare that
said he already knew that.
‘Y’ have gumption or foolishness par
a brain.’
“Next time I see y’, it better be with a captured
Mage—or I will find another neck par the Castrofax.”

Nolen’s glare wavered, and he gave a sharp
nod. Ryker vanished without healing the Prince’s wound and returned
to his home. Atrox Manor stood for Ages high in the Gray Mountains.
He hid it with a large illusion-pattern, and preserved it as the
day it was finished. Here, no one could locate him or the pretty
things he accumulated. Making his way down into the cellar, he
visited one of those pretty things who called herself a
Councilwoman.

Robyn crouched up in a tree perch and watched
as the party of riders passed. It was unusual to see men off the
road, and Gabriel’s wards sent warnings to him minutes before they
trotted close. She kept an arrow notched in her bow. She had been
foraging for roots when Gabriel came running and practically
boosted her into the nearest tree. He stood not far off in his
tiger form, crouched in the darkness of a bush. They found people
were far more likely to leave the area alone if they saw a wild
animal as massive as he. He flicked the end of his tail like any
cat hunting prey would and watched the men ride passed.

‘
Twenty two men,’
she counted,
‘twelve packhorses laden enough for a long journey,’
she
mused, searching for the leader. She could not decide if it was a
hunting party or marauders, for they were surely not settlers or
emissaries. Perhaps they were merely travelers. By the direction
they took, they skirted around Jensanisbel.

The men passed, and she waited another ten
minutes before she sheathed her bow and climbed down, stuffing the
arrow into the elk hide quiver Gabriel had made for her years ago.
Gabriel walked out to her, and she took a handful of his soft fur
between her fingers and stroked down his back. He gave a momentary
shiver and sighed, so she continued.

“Should we find something for dinner?” she
asked. He rolled an eye to her and blinked a sign for yes. She
hopped up on his shoulders and as soon as she was secured, he took
off at a gentle trot in the opposite direction of the travelers. A
cat moved in a much smoother rolling gait than a horse, and she had
become quite accustomed to it over the past two years. She learned
how to grip his ribs with her thighs and pull her calves around him
but back far enough to avoid his forelegs. Practice let her ride
without gripping the scruff of his neck. She could balance quite
easily on him, becoming one with him.

They trotted to their favorite game trail,
and he hid them in the shadows. She slipped to his side, and he
eased himself down, always watching the trail with vigilant tiger
blue eyes.

“We are nearly a month and a bit out from my
twentieth birth anniversary,” she whispered after a while. “When do
you think we should return to Anatoly City?”

He looked at her and stuck his tongue out,
reminding her he could not speak in tiger form, and she smirked and
scratched his head. He returned his eyes to the trail, the toes of
his paws moved every now and then as he practiced a pattern she
could not see. Human fingers and cat paws were very different, and
he trained the paws in a few patterns should he ever need them.

“I should like to return soon. It is bad
enough we’ve made no contact with Lady Aisling in years. She
probably thinks us dead.” He made a huff and flexed his whiskers
forward, a sign that he disagreed. “It will take time to adjust to
palace life and get the subjects to recognize me as the heiress. I
will need the backing of the army and my family, not to mention the
powerful houses before I can truly be seen as Queen.” She paused as
a squirrel chattered and waited for it to come closer. “I would
like to return within the week.”

He turned his head and fluffed his whiskers
again. She knew he liked the solitude. Once she took the throne,
there would be no adventures in the forests or nights by the
campfire spitting rabbits, or games of Tiles which she swore he was
letting her win at. He said he would stay with her, but it would be
terribly doleful for him to be cooped up in a palace all the time
with nothing to do but follow her around. As much as she wanted to
stay in the quaint cottage, she needed to take the throne. Despite
being secluded from news, even she knew Queen Miranda was not
adequate, and she would be stepping up to stitch together a fraying
kingdom.

“Think of what new adventures we could have,”
she said quietly. “Kilkiny Palace has been built upon over the
Ages. There are hidden passages and rooms that haven’t been seen in
years. When the work is done for the day, we could go exploring.”
She realized how infantile it sounded, but part of her yearned for
adventure as much as he. She would grow into the role of Queen, but
she would always retain her youthfulness that loved the quests.

He stretched a paw out and laid his head on
it, keeping one eye on her and one on the trail.

“Will you really stay with me?” she asked.
His eyes met hers, and he blinked. As much as she wanted him to
remain with her, she knew it would be selfish to keep him for
herself. A Mage like him had been unseen in far too long and once
knowledge of his existence spread, so would need for him. While
Class Five Spirit Mages could mend broken bones and stitch wounds,
she had seen him reattach a finger and reform a crushed skull.
Everyday people received ghastly wounds and knew there was no hope
for them. With his existence known, people could now receive
healing for previously impossible things. Perhaps she could make
him court physician.

‘
That would restrict him too much,’
she thought.
‘I would only be tapping one Element, and I am sure
he would grow bored lighting my fires and keeping my baths warm. If
he had not been born so strong, we would not have this problem;
then again, he would not be here if he was weaker.’

He nudged her with a paw and looked to the
trail. A badger wandered into their vision. She waited until it
came in line with the angle of her bow and sent an arrow through
its brain.

She did not stand to retrieve it, so Gabriel
remained where he was. “I think it would be best if you return to
Castle Jaden when I take the throne.” He raised his head in alarm,
and she put her hand up. “I would be selfishly squandering your
power, and it would be unfair for me to keep you to myself when
your kind needs you.”