The Castrofax (27 page)

“How does this concern me?” Miranda asked,
folding her hands.

“Your actions have consequences,” Aisling
answered, clipping every word.

The Queen straightened. “Are you threatening
me?”

“I did not think that sounded like a threat.
Did you, Prince?”

“No more than a helpful reminder, I
think.”

Miranda eyed them like a cornered mouse eyes
a clowder of cats and swiftly carried off in a whisper of
skirts.

Aisling went back to her work soundlessly,
and Balien continued circling. It was not long before a red-faced
older man with a nose too big for his heavy brow ran up. He wore
the yellow mantle of the healer Mages. Aisling admitted him and
gave him quick instructions to work on the right shoulder. He
passed his eyes over Gabriel with a grim look, but knelt wordlessly
and began slowly healing. By the strength of his patterns he was
likely only a Class Three, but most Battle Mages were of lower
Class. Ten minutes later a young woman in divided skirts with
short, corkscrew brown hair joined them to work on the left
shoulder, quickly followed by two more men of middle age, both
balding. By the time Lex returned, seven low-Classed Mages and
Aisling worked on Gabriel who still had yet to wake. Lex also
managed to find a Water Mage who worked fluids down Gabriel’s
throat and washing his skin.

Aisling grew weary, so she sat back and gave
herself a moment to rest. She knew each man and woman did the best
they could, but she could have done better alone had she the time
and stamina. She knew Gabriel would be left with lasting
damage.

Night fell and torches lit along with a fire.
Food and drink were brought up, but few were in any mood for
anything other than a stout brandy. They settled for wine and
bread. By the time the last wound was sealed, the sun had nearly
rose.

“Can we stay ‘til he wakes to make sure we
missed nothing?” a woman asked.

“There is no telling when he will wake.”

“It might be soon, actually,” Balien said
from his seat by the window. “The draught I gave him to keep him
under should be wearing off.”

“Since you are weary, you may wait another
hour,” Aisling permitted. She stayed by Gabriel’s head. One by one
the Mages stood, gathered a bite to eat and drink, and waited by
the fire.

Aisling was the first person Gabriel saw when
he opened his eyes. He sucked in a breath and slowly exhaled when
he realized he was no longer in the dungeons. Her hand on his
shoulder moved back and forth gently. “You are safe,” she said
softly.

He raised his hands, passing them over his
stomach before looking down. “I’m fixed,” he said with a shocked
expression. His voice was weak, and his face still pale, but he
seemed to be in control of his mind.

“You have many people to thank for that.
Would you like to meet them? They would like to meet you.”

“Yes, but what happened?”

“You passed into unconsciousness in the
dungeons, I brought you out. We have been healing you for some time
now.”

He lifted his torso to sit up but only made
it as far as his elbows.

“He’s awake!” a man called from the fire.
“How do you feel, m’lord?”

Gabriel flexed his hands. “Well,” he replied
with a faint voice as several Mages stepped up.

“Did you—you did not say anything about…”
Aisling began and trailed off.

“No, he got nothing out of me.”

“How did you withstand it, sir?” a man well
old enough to be his father asked.

Gabriel looked up at the faces with an unsure
gaze. “I willed myself to resist.” He pushed the blanket off his
chest and looked down at his torso. “You all did this?”

“Your back is fixed as well,” Aisling said as
he reached a hand to touch his shoulder.

“I am indebted to you,” he said. His gaze
locked onto a wristlet for a moment.

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” the
Water Mage asked, and Gabriel nodded.

“Help him up, will you?” Aisling asked the
men.

“I’m not a child, I can stand,” Gabriel
objected, but failed on his first attempt. Two men hauled him to
his feet and supported him as Gabriel held the blanket around his
waist. His steps were slow, and he hung his head as the change of
elevation taxed what blood he still had in his veins. Balien walked
backwards with a flask of water urging Gabriel to drink it all.

Aisling turned back to the other Mages. “I
thank you for your actions today. You are all most honorable.”

They said their thanks and took their leave,
giving proper bows before exiting. As they left, a rookery page
trotted in with three bird scrolls for her. She slowly walked to
the washroom, unrolling them as she went, standing in the doorway
of the brightly lit room. The bath was already turning murky.

“Here are your pardons from the Head Mage,”
Aisling said and held up the scrolls. “He saw fit to send three in
case the birds did not reach us.”

Gabriel ducked his head under and came up.
“Where is Nolen?”

Balien shook his head.

“He is going to be mad you brought me
out.”

“He’s going to be angrier you kicked him,”
Lex called from the room.

“He will be more livid about his Air Guard.”
Balien stated grimly, leaning against a far wall. “The counts
finally came in. Do you know how many of them you killed?” Gabriel
shook his head with a look that said he did not want to know.

“Any word from Robyn?” he asked and picked up
a scrub brush. Aisling shook her head.

“I must rest,” Aisling said after a moment of
silence. “I will leave you until tomorrow. Nolen will not be so
foolish to come for you again, so stay abed. You lost a great deal
of blood and it will take you a while to recover.”

“Thank you for coming for me, Lady Aisling,”
Gabriel said with a small smile of gratitude.

She felt herself choke up again, but she said
nothing. With a bow of her head, she slipped away.

Fire Mages were hard to bend. Of all Mages,
those wielding Fire were the fiercest, which was why Ryker liked
them the best. The Class Four woman that stood before him had not
broken, but she was not far off. She held a silver platter with a
finely polished tea set and waited for Ryker to motion for her to
set it down. She was not broken, but she was smart enough to know
not to provoke him.

Ryker found her in the city of Aidenmar and
stole her in the dead of night. She put up quite a fight, but he
could of step between worlds. As soon as she screamed something to
her children, she was miles away from her home. She called herself
Anabel though he never had a knack for names. He would kill her,
but at the moment she was a decent cook.

Atrox Manor had been built back in the Third
Age and preserved by countless many patterns. She was a stout
structure built with two wings and many stories with tall ceilings,
reaching high in Third Age style. The great room where Ryker
resided was built with magnificently large windows to maximize the
view of the surrounding mountains and plains of Anatoly far below.
Two fires on either side of the room spilled heat into the room,
fueled by his Fire Element. The manor was often cold because she
sat so high in the mountains, higher even than Castle Jaden.

“Set it there,” he motioned to Anabel. She
was dressed in what garments he saw fit to provide for her, and
today was a burnt orange peasant dress that did not fit her so
well. He saw that all his captives wore the color of their Element,
so he did not have to remember. “Fix it how I like.”

Throughout the Ages tea was the one thing
that remained the same. Some Ages liked tea with milk, others with
honey, but they never changed the flavor of a good Cinibarian black
or a Desuldane green. Ryker found tea to be one of the few things
he truly enjoyed and had several cups a day.

“Will he be having any?” she asked levelly
and motioned to the man lying on the floor beside Ryker’s
high-backed chair. She was making a joke, but he did not like
humor.

“Nay, I do ne think he will be. Do y’?”

“No,” she finished stirring his tea and
brought it to him on a porcelain saucer.

“Did y’ try ac poison it this time, or did y’
learn your lesson the first?” He took it from her and smelled the
aromatic leaf mixed with bergamot root.

“It is clean,” she replied and backed away
from him. Her face was smooth, but her eyes were angry. She left
children behind, and her husband had been missing for many months.
She wanted to return home, but Ryker had no intentions of letting
her leave.

“Y’ may go. Have dinner ready once the sun
sets.”

“Yes,” she replied, adding something rude at
the end he did not quite catch. He let her get away with it now,
but he would teach her better later. His pets did not undermine
him.

He returned his attention to the man on the
floor near his chair. On Ryker’s evening romp the through Parion
the night before, he found the kingdom had very few Mages left. But
there were a few living in houses designed for them. It seemed
people could go to these houses and hire the Mages for help. He
snickered at the thought of Mages being hired for anything. At the
Spirit House, he found a pretty brunet girl with olive skin, but
when he tried to take her, a young man had jumped him. The fool
learned quickly that Arch Mages were not to be surprised.

The man was now on the edge of death, his
lungs nearly collapsed as blood filled his chest cavity. As the
blood deviated from his veins it, it pushed his trachea to one
side. The veins in his neck were filling up fast. They would reach
his brain soon and kill him. Ryker sipped his tea.

When the man finally died, Ryker was ready.
His eyes suddenly became white, and he reached a hand down to grab
the man’s head, but he did not seize the body. Instead he reached
through the skin to the white-blue spirit of the man himself.

To Ryker’s vision, the world of reality
changed to an afterimage of what truly was. The white fire became
black, the brown walls changed to white, and the snow outside
became as dark as sin. The only objects that did not change were
people, retaining their white skin. The change in vision was a
consequence of stepping into the spirit world and branching the
planes of reality.

“What will we do with y’ then?” he mused.
Long ago he discovered how the layers of the spirit world joined
together with the waking world and allowed for manipulation. One of
the things easily manipulated were the spirits themselves who were
fully conscious beings of once-living people. Ryker could alter
their state of awareness and insert his own will. Once changed,
these spirits could be released into reality and denied their
rightful existence in the spirit world unless defeated. The common
folk called them specters, and it was rare for one of them to slip
pass the veil of reality. It was even rarer for them to have
substance.

Substance was the first change Ryker gave,
making the man solid as he took away the spirit’s self-awareness.
Next he changed the man’s hands, turning them into weapons that
would electrocute with a touch. He smiled as he worked, feeling the
tax on his stamina. This would be the fifth specter he released
into the world. He was most chagrined to feel his fiery
Councilwoman slip back into the spirit world, but the Councilman
with a stony kiss was still out walking.

He laid a pattern, and both he and the
specter disappeared out of the manor, moving the world around him
in a lost form of travel called
shift
. The Mages of today
had grown so weak and stupid, losing so much of their former
knowledge.
‘That’s what happens when y’ breed yourselves
out,’
he smiled.
‘Funny, that
was
why I started the
Mages Wars.’

He dropped the man outside a town close to
Anatoly City and continued on, searching out the Mage Prince Nolen.
Ryker could not say he liked the boy, but allies were what made him
strong in the previous years, and he would need as many as he
could. So far the Princeling had done what he asked, even going so
far as capturing the Class Ten. That was something he certainly did
not expect.

He found Nolen in his rooms, dressing in new
clothes. His former apparel was balled up on the floor, stained
with blood. Nolen gave a little start, still not used to the sudden
entrances. Ryker liked that he kept the boy on edge.

Nolen pulled on his shirt, stuffing it into
his unlaced trousers. “My lord,” he said with a proper nod of his
head. The boy was respectful; that was notable.

“I came across some information y’ might like
regarding your sister,” Ryker said and folded his arms. Since his
hibernation, he had been able to exercise and dine on his favorite
rich foods. His body had filled out like he was supposed to. The
sun had even warmed the color back into his skin.

Nolen stopped lacing up his trousers.
“Kindle? Have you found her?”

“Nay, but I know someone who can. Do y’ know
Councilwoman Selene, ac Queen Challis?” Nolen nodded and finished
lacing up. “They were fond friends once—before the Selene woman met
an unfortunate end—ac would y’ believe she quod Queen Challis knows
where your sister is? She claims the Queen ac your mother were once
quite close, ac your mother let slip where little Kindle is,
ac
she told me
why
the girl was sent away.”

“Did Selene know Kindle’s location?”

“Nay, she only told me the Queen of Cinibar
quod she knew the location.” He rocked back on the heels of his
boots that gave him an extra inch and a half of height. He was a
tall man back in the older Ages, but this Age seemed to have
sprouted much taller people. “Seems this Councilwoman had quite a
lot t’ say. They always do before y’ kill them, thinking their
information will save their lives. She quod some very interesting
things about the Silex as well.”