The Hunter's Gambit

by Nicholas McIntire

  Bael sighed, “Not well. The Angelus worked dutifully to hide every little piece away and Dalita is not very charitable towards our kind.”

  “Perhaps there is another way, Master. Perhaps….”

  Bael raised a cautionary hand. Sammul dropped his gaze immediately.

  “Forgive me. I meant only to seek your interest to the best of my ability.”

  “I appreciate your concern. But for the moment I have things well in hand. Now then,” the Master said, fixing Sammul with his frigid gaze, “what news of the Prince?”

  Sammul swallowed hard. “I’ve just come from the Queen’s chambers. It would seem that Jonas has assaulted a noblewoman in the Palace. With the Archanium.”

  Bael’s mouth crooked into a smirk. “So, the little whelp has found his wings. I’m not altogether surprised, but I must say, I didn’t expect him to be a violent man. Certainly not against a helpless woman.”

  Sammul nodded, “The Prince has…a bit of a temper. I don’t believe the girl was aware of his abilities. Either way, it serves our ends nicely.”

  The Master nodded, “I am curious, though. If Jonas could lash out with so little training, that speaks to his power and to his path.”

  Sammul groaned inwardly.

  Each Magus traveled a different meridian through the Archanium. It was often easy enough to guess at the abilities one may have from the meridian they trod. But Jonas had hardly wielded the Archanium long enough for such things to be apparent.

  Still, his future actions would speak to his direction whether he liked it or not.

  “But it isn’t important right now. Watch him. We have bigger problems to deal with.”

  “Master Bael, if I may–”

  A knock at the door cut Sammul off.

  Bael rose. Sammul felt the other man fill himself with the Archanium.

  “Answer it.” Bael commanded.

  Bertrand Perron stalked through the halls of the Voralla. He edged past startled Magi and their Knights. The Knights watched him casually enough, though their hands strayed to hilts as he passed.

  Perron ignored them as he moved through the maze-like fortress, heading upwards towards Sammul’s chambers.

  He was on the edge of outrage, but his pragmatism still held sway. He needed advice, and at the moment there was only one man he could think of who might offer more than sycophantic drivel.

  The Prince’s attack on his daughter was still sending shock waves through him, and yet it also created a great many questions. Yes, it was outrageous that the man had attacked Eleina. Worse still, it revealed the Prince as an Archanium Magus. The last thing Perron wanted was to ally his line with anyone connected to the Archanium.

  The stigma among the higher houses of nobility would be unbearable.

  But with the union came power. Power that would be impossible to deny as long as the Belgi line held the throne.

  That thought struck him as unusual even as it passed through his mind. Of course there were other roads to power, but he’d never entertained notions of deposing his monarch. Such things were messy at best, and the instigators rarely remained in power long.

  He arrived at Sammul’s door and knocked tentatively. He was as unsure of Sammul as any noble, yet the man seemed to think in a surprisingly similar fashion.

  The door swung open.

  Sammul smiled. “Chancellor Perron. What can I do for you?”

  Perron stood as tall as he could, “High Magus, I have some matters of grave importance to discuss with you. Are you free at the moment?”

  Sammul bowed, stepping away from the door and inviting Perron in. This was going very well so far.

  Sammul took a seat in a large chair that had seen better days. Perron frowned. It seemed unusual for a man in Sammul’s position to have anything in his rooms that was less than opulent.

  “Can I offer you some brandy?” Sammul asked dryly.

  Perron shook his head vigorously, “Thank you, but no. I need a clear head for this.”

  Sammul sat back into his chair, “You’re here about the Prince’s little incident.”

  Perron stiffened. “I am indeed. Though I’m a bit surprised the news reached you so swiftly.”

  Sammul snorted, “Chancellor Perron, the news has already swept the Palace. Surely you know that it would have reached the Voralla just as quickly. In fact, I’ve just returned from an audience with the Queen.”

  Perron nodded coolly, “And what did she say?”

  Sammul quirked a smile. “Her Majesty was very quick to condemn the Prince’s actions.”

  Perron leaned forward.

  “She has accepted that everyone now knows the nature of Jonas' abilities. As such, she has declared his behavior as that of any adept put to the test during a passionate situation. That is a common way of discovering a connection to the Archanium, though usually not in a man of Jonas' age. She is also going to allow his Knight quarters near the Prince.”

  Perron froze. “Knight? What are you talking about?”

  “There is a certain captain in our Legion, one who was most auspiciously promoted, Chancellor. He performed a great service for the Crown. A service that was beyond the realms of human capacity.”

  “But not of an Archanium Knight.” Perron muttered.

  Sammul smirked. “A peasant by the name of Drago, I believe. Allegedly the rank was bestowed because of his bravery on behalf of the Crown. He saved the Princess from a very untimely death. An orchestrated death.”

  Perron’s eyes flashed with shock.

  “Orchestrated? But how do you know…. Good gods, Sammul. Surely you were’t involved in something so…fiendish.” Perron’s alarm was rising higher and higher the longer he stayed in the chamber. What manner of man had he placed his confidence in?

  A new voice broke like the tide across Perron’s ears, “He was, but I am more to blame than my little puppet.”

  Perron spun as another man fluctuated in and out of the shadows.

  A short man with flaming gold hair and eerily familiar emerald eyes stepped forward. He was wearing a heavy black cloak, but his movement belied that of an assassin.

  He moved with a sense of purpose. A sense of danger.

  “You are Chancellor Perron?”

  Perron could only nod under the power of that gaze.

  “I am Bael.”

  Perron realized that he was clenching his jaw.

  “I know who you are.” he managed. “You favor your mother more than your father.”

  Bael laughed, “Aren’t you perceptive, Chancellor? But I’m afraid my father is no longer with us. His death has provided me with a new opportunity to, shall we say, change the rules a bit?”

  “I’d sooner be pecked apart by crows than ally with the likes of you.” Perron snapped.

  Bael arched an eyebrow. “Really? Let’s test that, shall we?”

  Darkness surrounded Perron. He opened his mouth to scream, but he heard only laughter.

  Jonas reclined in his study, pouring over a book on the different social interpretations of the Archanium. It was a challenge to truly understand, having only recently learned to embrace the Archanium like a Magus.

  The Ri-Vhan also used the Archanium, but in a very different way, the angels of Dalita another still, and the Ul’Brek in Fanj yet another. It was all very confusing and in many ways much more complicated than Jonas was capable of understanding.

  At least, for the moment.

  Aleksei sat not a pace away, his eyes studying a volume of military history.

  Jonas had been surprised enough that his Knight was literate. The rural folk so often prized labor over education.

  But Aleksei’s tenacious drive to learn was more shocking still. Upon hearing of Jonas' extensive personal library, Aleksei seemed to find endless pleasure in seeking out the histories and tales that made up the library, devouring one after another.

  Jonas could not have been more pleased with the man.<
br />
  At the moment, his Knight was engrossed in the history of the first Archanium Magi who freed themselves from the Kholodym Dominion. Jonas glanced at the title and smiled.

  Richter. One of the greatest heroes in history. The first Hunter. A Magus. A saint.

  Born in a time when there had been no need of Knights. A time when the Magi themselves had been such terrible weapons with both sword and Archanium that the world trembled in their wake.

  Fitting enough. Jonas thought.

  There was much in Aleksei that Jonas did not understand, but more that filled him with pride. The man was his Knight.

  Jonas had met with a certain amount of jealousy when Aleksei was acknowledged as his Bonded. The other Magi were surprised enough to discover their prince’s true abilities. To find his Knight to be such a jewel in the brambles was another shock altogether.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Jonas glanced at Aleksei, but the Knight was engrossed in his book.

  “Enter.” he called.

  A maid hurried in and made a deep curtsey. “Begging your pardon, Highness. But Chancellor Perron requests–”

  Perron stormed past her, shoving the girl to the side. She caught herself against the wall, staring up at the Chancellor in fright.

  “Jonas Belgi, you will declare your intentions here and now!” Perron barked.

  Before Jonas could open his mouth, Aleksei moved like liquid from his languid position. He was suddenly standing an inch from the Chancellor’s face. Jonas felt his heart skip a beat.

  The man moved so fast.

  “You are in the chambers of the Prince,” Aleksei growled, “and you will act accordingly.”

  Perron’s face reddened. “What…what is this nonsense?”

  Jonas realized that the Chancellor was addressing him.

  “Chancellor Perron,” Jonas said icily, “I believe Captain Drago just made his point very clear. You will treat my servants with the utmost respect. I take any affront to them as an affront to myself.”

  Perron’s face reddened but he silenced himself.

  “Aleksei, let him enter.”

  The Knight glanced at his prince before turning to the servant girl. She was weeping as he led her from the room. Jonas could hear the Knight whispering to her all the way.

  “What do you want, Bertrand?” Jonas demanded the moment they were alone.

  Perron bristled, “I want you to honor your half of the contract, Highness.”

  The man practically spat the title.

  “I have an Archanium Knight, as you are no doubt aware, Perron. Yet you still wish me to pursue a marriage to your daughter? A woman I assaulted?”

  “That is beside the point.” Perron insisted.

  “Is it?”

  “Highness,” Perron growled, “we both made a contract. And since I have fulfilled my end…”

  “Fulfilled your end?” Jonas demanded. “You have done precious little to aid the Belgi line. You have demonized the Magi for the same powers you would seek out in a time of war. You have directly opposed the Queen in every move she has made. Tell me, Lord Perron, what has ‘your end’ of the contract netted me?”

  Perron breathed heavily. “I took a very important stand on Magi and the use of fire.”

  A bright flame ignited between them.

  “And how does that benefit me?” Jonas snarled.

  Perron gasped.

  Jonas stared past the tiny flame and into Perron’s wide brown eyes. “I used the Archanium against your own child. As a weapon. Where is my trial? Where is the outrage you displayed against the Magus Ilyana for lighting such a simple fire? Hardly the same as my own display. And yet here you are demanding I marry your daughter?

  “You know what I am, and what I may become, Chancellor. People like me, like Ilyana, have a responsibility to protect this realm. But I would be lying if I failed to mention our shared concern. Archanium Magi were enslaved for a thousand years, doing the work of evil men for no greater crime than the unlucky happenstance of our birth. I believe I speak for every Archanium Magus, trained or not, when I say that we all have a vested interest ensuring that such things never happen again.

  “I’m not saying this to threaten you. But I want to be absolutely clear when I tell you that I will not tolerate further persecution of Magi in Ilyar.”

  Jonas snapped and flame vanished. “Our contract was one of mutual benefit. You have yet to aid my political designs. I, on the other hand, have worked very hard to place you in a position of power. You have abused that power. As far as I am concerned, our contract is now void.”

  Perron opened his mouth, but Jonas raised a hand. “The situation has been turned to your advantage, Chancellor. I would strongly caution you to welcome that and let things be.”

  Before the Chancellor had a chance to renew his protests, Aleksei’s hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

  “Lord Perron, I think it’s best if you leave now.”

  Perron was in a whirlwind of confusion. He had completely lost control of the situation, yet he was still trying to retrace his steps to discover where it had all gone of wrong.

  And then he was standing in the corridor, staring at the intricately carved door to the Prince’s chambers. It hung at a slight angle from the cracked wood of the frame. The detail was immediately lost in the storm of his thoughts.

  He wandered to his chambers in a disoriented fog. His plans seemed to be crashing around him and yet he felt powerless to even lift a finger in dissent.

  He shut the door behind himself and walked to the hearth, bracing himself against it as his mind raced.

  “Don’t be too unhappy, Chancellor.”

  Perron tensed when he heard Bael’s voice behind him. He turned angrily on the Magus. “You said this would be a victory. You said–”

  Bael raised a hand and Perron’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

  “Chancellor, I said that this confrontation would serve to benefit you. And it has. You now know your true allies, and those who are false have been revealed. You stand at an important crossroad. Do you continue to toil under the yolk of a monarch who distrusts you? A woman who has thrown your every edict and judgment aside to suit her own personal lust for power?”

  Perron eyed the Magus suspiciously, “What are you proposing?”

  Bael shrugged his shoulders, “At the moment you are at a severe disadvantage. You command no Magi, you have no ability to barter with the Voralla. And whatever Sammul says, his Magi are more tied to their queen than to him.

  “But imagine, for a moment, that you had Magi of your own to command. Powerful Magi. Men and women more weapon than human. Would that level the playing field?”

  Perron’s eyebrows shot up, “You know of such Magi?”

  Bael laughed, “Chancellor, the Voralla is hardly the only place Ilyari adepts find training, merely the largest, the most prestigious.

  “But not every adept can travel to Kalinor. In the years since the war, quite a few groups have appeared here or there. None with a tenth of the Voralla’s numbers, of course. But we do exist.

  “Imagine, Chancellor, the bargaining power we could lend you.”

  Perron frowned, “But you said their numbers don’t come close to equaling the Magi under Andariana’s command.”

  Bael leaned forward and smiled, “Some pieces are worth more than pawns, Chancellor. The abilities of those in the Voralla are practically without value. The power of my Magi far exceeds the Queen’s pawns. We are the wheat, they the chaff.

  “And what if I told you there was something else? Something even greater? Something that could stand up to every Magus in Ilyar, and still emerge victorious?”

  “You have knowledge of this?” Perron whispered.

  “Soon enough, Lord Perron, I will command it. But for now, we must be patient. Everything due to men like us will come, but only at the appropriate time.”

  CHAPTER 19
r />   A Feast for Volos

  LORD SIMON DECLAN gazed out the carriage window, his thoughts deeply troubled. Beside him, Lord Arred Bazin was muttering to himself. Declan caught a phrase here and there, but his own worries dominated his mind at the moment.

  Chancellor Perron had summoned both of them to his private townhouse in the city. That in itself was not terribly unusual. The Chancellor often requested certain nobles to attend him at his residence, whether to discuss trade negotiations between individual holdings or to discuss politics in general.

  But as they rode past the Palace gate, Declan noticed at least three other carriages, each bearing the coat-of-arms of another major House. More curiously, each major House he’d seen represented lands that directly bordered either Perron’s own or those of his closest allies.

  Bazin’s frown proved the other man was more troubled by this than he, but Declan had to admit that inviting so many nobles, each a Head of House, on the same night spoke of either stupidity or arrogance.

  There was a gentle rap on the glass and Declan realized that the carriage had pulled to a halt. He straightened and glanced at Bazin.

  The man was composing his face into a calm, stony mask.

  Declan was worried for his friend. Unlike many of the members of Parliament, Arred Bazin did not wear the mantle of nobility easily. He had far too much heart and too little sense for the rigors of life in Kalinor.

  The door opened slowly and Declan stepped out into the crisp autumn air. Night was falling on the city, bringing with it an undeniable chill. Declan was determined to ignore it as he made his way to the well-lit threshold of Perron’s townhouse.

  The House of Declan was not nearly as wealthy or powerful as many of the Houses gathered here, but what he lacked in resources he made up for in sharpness of both thought and speech.

  He paused at the door only long enough to allow Bazin to catch up to him. The two men had long been friends but more than that, they were well-known allies. At the moment, Declan wanted to remind some of the more powerful Houses that he was not without his own alliances.