The Warlock Senator (Book 2) (8 page)

“I knew the moment it was cast. Magic of that magnitude is not performed in secret.”

“Then why didn’t you do something?” Leanor asked.

“The spell was already cast, there was nothing for me to do but watch and see how it played out.”

Leanor nodded. “I do not have time to dwell on the past,” she said. “I am here because of my eldest son. I fear that he will lose his life as well, and then I will be left with nothing. Can you help me protect my son?”

Hairen cackled. “Eldrik is not
your
son,” she said.

Leanor held her breath, afraid to ask for the explanation.

“Silvi worked with Merriam to perform the spell you desired. They used magic to switch your dry, barren womb with the fertile womb of another woman. That woman, had already conceived with her own husband.”

“Who?”
Leanor stammered.

“Lady Lokton,” Hairen replied.

Leanor stumbled backward and threw her hand out to steady her as she slumped down onto her bed. “Why?” Leanor asked. “That makes no sense.”

“Silvi and Merriam thought if you bore a child that resembled another man, then Lord Cedreau would divorce you, and you would be forced to live with the child on the street.” Hairen sighed. “They may have tried to curse you, but not in the way things turned out.
”

“Then why have things ended up as they have?”

Hairen arched a brow and her gaze focused on a distant point. “They were foolish, dabbling in magic they did not understand. That kind of magic demands its own price.”

Leanor felt her pulse slow. Her head became heavy and her breathing quickened. Darkness encroached upon her. Oblivion
itself threatened to consume her. Then she remembered her eldest son. “No,” Leanor said as she willed herself to remain conscious. “Eldrik is
my
son. I have fed him, clothed him, and loved him. He is my son!”

Hairen sighed. “Will he love you after he discovers the truth for himself?”

Leanor narrowed her eyes at Hairen. “After all that I have suffered, I will not let any harm come to Eldrik.” Leanor stepped within a hair’s breadth of Hairen’s face. “If you try to tell him, there is no magic on this plane that will save you from my wrath.”

Hairen gently patt
ed the air before her, shaking her head. “I have no intention of telling the boy.”

“Then you and Silvi and Merriam should have no issue with me.”

“It isn’t that simple,” Hairen pointed out. “Have you heard of Tukai’s prophecy?”

Leanor squinted for a moment and then her mouth fell slack and she gasped. “No, you don’t mean the prophecy was about
Eldrik
?”

Hairen nodded soberly. “Who else could it be about?” She paused a moment. “I would wager he has already left for
Drakai Glazei to hunt Lord Lokton down and enact his revenge.”

“I thought that prophecy was about Erik,” Leanor said.

“Erik is not Lord Lokton’s son, not by birth anyway. However, Eldrik is a Lokton. You may have raised him, but Eldrik is not yours.”

“Curse that warlock!” Leanor shouted.

“The warlock only saw what is to come, he did not make it so.” Hairen paused and locked eyes with Leanor. “Your choices have led you to this tragedy,” she added coldly.

Leanor rose to her feet, gathering courage and strength from her anger and hatred. “I am leaving now,” she said.

“You have decided not to ask for my help?” Hairen inquired sarcastically.

Leanor walked forward and leaned in close to the old witch. “For all of the things you did for me, for taking me off the street and giving me a home, I thank you. Those things are why I am willing to leave peacefully now.” Leanor’s eyes narrowed hotly on the old woman. “But, if I see any of you again, I will not think twice about ending your existence. From now on the coven exists only because I allow it.”

“Do not make idle threats, child,” Hairen warned.

“I am Lady Cedreau,” Leanor said sternly. “To interfere with my son is to invoke the wrath of House Cedreau on your heads. You will let Eldrik alone, and you will stay far away from me, or else I will bury all of you.
” Leanor pushed past Hairen and stopped just short of exiting the chamber. “One more thing, Hairen,” Leanor said. “It isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”

The carriage lurched to the side suddenly, throwing Senator Bracken to slam his shoulder into the velvet padded interior wall of his transport. His eyes bolted open and he quickly steadied himself as the carriage continued to rock side to side for a few moments before finally stabilizing. He reached up with his right hand and shoved the silken curtain up just enough to stick his head out the window. The cool, late afternoon air greeted him with the scent of fresh mud mixed with pine needles.

“Sorry, Senator Bracken,” the driver called out from the front of the carriage. “There was a storm here last night, and it created a few ruts and holes in the road.”

Bracken curled his lip back and barked back “Well see to it that I am not thrown about like a silly doll on the back of a farmer’s cart. You are at least that competent, are you not?”

“Yes sir, I will do my best,” the driver shouted back dutifully.

“Good,” Bracken snapped. “The last thing you want is for me to take the reins from you, I assure you.” Bracken caught movement approaching out of the corner of his eye. He turned his face just as Captain Thorgrave pulled up alongside the window atop his stallion.

“Is there anything I may do for you, Senator Bracken?” Captain Thorgrave asked.

Senator Bracken regarded Captain Thorgrave wearily. “No, captain, there isn’t,” he said quickly. Senator Bracken then arched his right brow and peered down over his nose at the captain. “If I had been in need of your assistance, I would have informed you myself.”

Captain Thorgrave nodded dutifully and slowed his horse to allow the carriage to pass without another word.

Senator Bracken flicked the curtain back over the window and slumped into the pillow backed bench with a sour grimace across his face. He hated to travel this way. He was sick of the pageantry, the sycophantic boot-lickers, and the horribly tortuous snail’s pace it forced him to suffer. He would much rather open a portal and be done with it. But, he couldn’t afford to expose himself. As it was he found it difficult enough to mix his own mercenaries with the standard escorts such as Captain Thorgrave. Always needing to stop in a village for food as a pretext for getting his prisoner alone in the back of the prison transport was getting to be quite exhausting.

So, he played the part of a pompous senator. He employed
a garish entourage and employed full military protection on occasion when he traveled beyond Drakai Glazei’s walls. This visit had been trickier than most, with the need for his military detail to join with him after he had already been travelling, but the soldiers knew better than to ask questions of a senator, and the mercenaries cared little as long as they were paid. Arresting Lord Lokton was the first time he had actually used his military escort for something productive, however. He knew other senators that used their escorts to pick up food from the market, or even to finish yard work that their regular household staff had done improperly.

“Senators,” Bracken grumbled while
wiggling himself back into a comfortable position in the cushion. “All of them corrupt and too preoccupied with their own petty self-interests to have any real power.” They only had the appearance of power, he knew, perhaps with the exception of Senator Mickelson. He was a fairly young senator who seemed genuinely ethical, but his influence was still too small to pose any real threat to Bracken. His family had never been impressive to begin with, and Bracken often wondered why that family had ever been chosen to serve in the senate.

He straightened his left sleeve and shifted in his seat again, finally finding the groove he had been creating during the last couple hours of his nap. As he closed his eyes he thought how pleasing it would be to finally rip off
his false identity. He could see the other senators’ reactions. They would all stand dumbfounded with their drooling, wrinkled mouths hanging open and not the slightest clue what to do. Many of them were already close enough to him that they would likely remain as supporters, but what of Mickelson and the few that had thus far resisted him? What would they say? What would they do?

Likely nothing, he knew. What could they do in light of his fully revealed power? For now he played the part of a waiting pit viper. He would bait the trap
with Lord Lokton. The Keeper of Secrets would have to come. Not only would it discredit Lepkin and his position to ignore the summons, but Erik would demand his father’s rescue. Bracken smiled wickedly and cracked his knuckles as a bit of blue fire danced across his fingertips. Master Lepkin would come to rescue Lord Lokton. Then, Bracken would be able to spring his trap. He would kill Lepkin and Lokton in the same day, and destroy any chance Erik might have to grow powerful enough to defeat him.

The warlock senator closed his eyes and savored his anticipated victory. The master would be pleased, and the warlock would be closer to achieving his innermost desires.

“We are approaching the city!” a shout came from outside.

Bracken opened his eyes resentfully. “Perfect timing,” he grumbled. He popped his head through the window again and looked up just as the carriage rounded a curve in the road. The late afternoon sun glinted off the copper flecks speckling the black granite walls of the city. The walls stood a foreboding forty feet tall, affording a great vantage point at each of its several towers for the garrisoned forces. Only the king’s tower rose above the walls enough to be visible from the road. The great, square spire reached three times as high as the walls, casting its great shadow over the whole valley during sunsets, and creating a sparkling focal point at dawn.

The lower levels of the king’s tower housed the main government store houses, living quarters for the garrison, a throne room in which the king could hold court, and a few feasting halls as well. All of these seemed insignificant with the uppermost levels in Bracken’s estimation. The twelfth floor housed the king’s bedchamber, but it also held the king’s library, orrery, and, most importantly, there was a special pedestal atop the tower which had allowed the king to summon the dragons in ancient times. The top of the tower was built specifically for this purpose, Bracken knew. In days of old the dragons would take turns perching atop the tower and providing counsel to the king, directing the affairs of men and, when necessary, launching offensives from above to maintain order.

Bracken had only seen the top of the tower twice. Once upon the king’s ninetieth birthday, and again when the king called a select council to discuss how the kingdom was to continue without a king after their lord’
s imminent death. The king had advised the senator’s present to create a list of potential heirs from among the various nobles of the land, but he had not chosen any of them. Instead he reminded the council that in the event he died without an heir, the kingdom would be ruled jointly by the senate and the Keeper of Secrets.

The warlock snarled as he recalled those words. The time for Lepkin’s death could not come soon enough!

Bracken eyed the top of the king’s tower. The king hardly ever came down from the top level now. On the rare occasion he did, he had to be carried by several of the king’s guard, his bodyguards and special police, in order to descend the great staircase to the lower levels. He usually only went to such efforts for the summer and winter solstice festivals so the people of Drakai Glazei could see their figure head still breathed and walked among mortals. Bracken didn’t mind. The old king had ceased interfering with matters of state a couple of years ago. Sometimes his advisors and ministers did so on his behalf, but he was never directly involved anymore.

It made a senator’s life extremely easy, and had given Bracken several opportunities to solidify his own power.

It had also given rise to a smattering of smaller factions throughout the kingdom, but Bracken did not concern himself with them unless they could offer him something in return. He found that most nobles were like senators, too selfish and greedy to meaningfully serve any master other than their own base desires. The warlock had found a few nobles he could trust, and the rest he ignored, knowing that their efforts would amount to little more than the sting of a single ant when compared with his power, let alone the might of his master.

Bracken smiled and turned back to beckon for Captain Thorgrave.

“I am at your service,” the captain said dutifully as he trotted his horse up alongside the window.

“I do not wish to be disturbed by fanfare and parades today, Captain Thorgrave,” Bracken said.

“Very well,” the captain replied. “What would you have me do?”

“Make it known that I wish only to deposit our guest into the garrison dungeon. Have him watched by a triple guard, and keep him in irons. Then I wish to simply go home, eat, and sleep. I have a l
ong couple of days ahead of me.”

“By your command, sir,” Captain Thorgrave said. “I shall dispatch my lieutenants ahead of us to make the necessary preparations.”

Bracken sneered at the captain. “I don’t care to be bothered with the details, just get it done.” Senator Bracken pulled his head back inside the carriage and tried to steal a short nap before they made it to the city gates.

*****

Braun hung close to the oak branches supporting his weight high up in the great tree. He had managed to get ahead of Senator Bracken’s convoy enough to set up a small camp just inside the forest that flanked the northern road. His perch afforded him a great view of the valley, and he never took his eyes from Lord Lokton’s wagon after he had caught sight of it. A pair of sturdy, bearded men stood on platforms on the wagon’s side and a driver followed Senator Bracken’s gaudy white and purple carriage from the forest road to the paved stone road through the valley that led to the gates of Drakai Glazei.

He was too far away to see Lord Lokton of course, but he still felt as though he could sense his master’s sadness as the heavy, iron plated wagon lurched on the road behind eight powerful draft horses. The great wheels were even covered with iron. Even if Al had not offered an alternative plan to rescue Lord Lokton, Braun knew there would be no way for a single man to break a prisoner from that wagon. It would take a small army to hack their way inside, and that was to say nothing of the complimentary military escort.

Braun waited not only until the wagon had disappeared behind the gargantuan iron gates of Drakai Glazei, but also until the sun began to set before he descended the tree and started on his way to the city. The sky was ablaze with purple and pink clouds above the city’s black granite walls. His horse trotted along the paved valley road with a perfectly rhythmic
clippity-clop, clippity-clop
.

He passed a couple of local farmers who were driving their carts
in the opposite direction, obviously going home for the day. Braun would wave if they waved first, but he didn’t slow his pace. Even when one of the farmers called out with cheap bread and vegetables, Braun pushed on.

A trio of guards raised their hands and asked for Braun to bring his horse to them before they allowed him to enter.

Braun pulled back on the reins and swung his leg over the side of the horse as he slid off and greeted the guards.

“Name and business in
Drakai Glazei,” one of the guards demanded.

“I am Braun Gerble,” he said. “Sergeant-at-arms for House Lokton.”

The guards looked to each other for a moment. One of them offered a crooked smile. “You aren’t planning on busting your employer out of prison are you?” he inquired with a chuckle.

Braun shrugged. “If I was here for that, then I think I am a little ill-prepared, don’t you?” He watched the guard’s smile straighten and sour for a moment.

“I should warn you that he is heavily guarded, and we will not tolerate troublemakers in Drakai Glazei,” one of the other guards said.

Braun scratched the left side of his face and brushed a hair from under his nose
. He was unimpressed. “I doubt the city needs to worry about one man armed with only a single sword and a hunting knife,” Braun commented. “I am here to uphold House Lokton’s honor, nothing more, nothing less.”

“They won’t let you in the trial,” the third guard stated. He stepped closer to Braun and raised a hunk of jerky to his mouth, taking a big, tough bite while he sized Braun up. “Still, if your nobleman demands you follow him all the way to the gallows, who are we to stop you?”

The other two guards looked to the third. “Shall I check his sword?” one of them asked.

“Nah,” the third said just before he swallowed the half-chewed bite. “Just let him in. If he is fool enough to raise trouble, then that’s his problem.”

Braun smirked and offered a hand. “May I have the pleasure of your name?” he asked.

The third guard scoffed. “No, you can’t.” He took another bite and walked away.

“Alright, sign or make your mark here in the log,” the first guard said as he produced a thick book with creaky, breaking binding.

Braun took the quill from the middle of the book and placed his name at the bottom of a long list of names. “Do I sign upon departure as well?” Braun asked.

“Yes, you will see a guard house on the inside of the gates. That is where you will stop before departing Drakai Glazei.” The first guard took the log book back, closed it, and walked away.