The Magelands Epic: Storm Mage (Book 6)

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘Indeed they are.’

  ‘Did your pet mice all die or something?’

  She squinted at him. ‘Of what?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Then why would you say such a thing?’ Kelsey said. ‘What possible type of affliction could end the lives of seventeen mice in one day?’

  He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You didn’t kill them, did you?’

  ‘No,’ she said, sighing. ‘I freed them. Now, help me pick up these cages.’

  He leant over and picked them up.

  She frowned. ‘Your hands are bigger than my head.’

  ‘You freed them?’

  ‘You know,’ she said, starting to walk along the path towards the mansion, ‘I’m sensing a lot of improvement in you. Sometimes when I say words, you actually seem to be able to understand them. Well done.’

  He caught up with her, grasping onto the cages.

  ‘Why did you free them?’

  ‘Ahh, that’s better. A question, rather than just repeating what I said.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Probably best if I don’t say. It would only confuse you. All will become apparent soon.’

  He shook his head at her. What had he done to deserve such an annoying sister?

  ‘Have you chosen, then?’ she continued as they rounded a corner and the mansion came into view.

  ‘Chosen what?’

  ‘Which lucky girl will be invited to escort you to the dance?’

  He smiled. ‘Not sure yet. What about you? Has anyone asked you to go?’

  ‘Little Billy did,’ she said. ‘Strange boy. I, of course, declined.’

  ‘Why? You probably won’t get too many offers. Most of the school thinks you’re weird.’

  ‘My dear brother, have you ever known me to dance? What a ridiculous concept. Besides, what would be the point?’

  ‘The point of what?’

  She glanced at him sideways, a curious smile on her lips. ‘You’ll see.’

  Keir halted on the path. ‘Have you had a vision?’

  ‘I’ve had several; though not as many as you seem to think.’

  ‘Can I ask you something? What if you have a vision of something bad happening, can you stop it?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘The visions can never be stopped. Never. If I try, then it happens anyway. I don’t try, not any more. I just accept.’

  She kept walking, and he hurried after her. To the side of the mansion was a small carriage, with two hazel mares at the harness.

  ‘Visitors?’ he said.

  Kelsey said nothing, her shoes crunching over the gravel of the mansion forecourt. Keir drew level with her as they approached the back porch of the great house. Aunty Celine was standing on the covered veranda, watching them.

  ‘Shit,’ muttered Keir. ‘Something’s up. What have you done, you little brat? Are you in trouble?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, I suppose I am, yes.’

  ‘Keir. Kelsey,’ said Celine as they ascended the steps to the veranda.

  ‘Good afternoon, aunty,’ said Kelsey.

  ‘Put those cages down,’ Celine said to Keir.

  He shrugged and laid them on the ground.

  Celine sighed, her face tense. ‘Some people are here to see Keir.’

  ‘We saw their carriage,’ said Kelsey.

  ‘Best if you stay out here, I think, Kelsey,’ Celine said.

  The girl frowned. ‘I will if it doesn’t affect me in any way. Does it affect me?’

  ‘I suppose it does,’ Celine frowned. ‘It affects us all. Come on, then.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Keir. ‘Who are the visitors? Aren’t you going to give me any warning about what I’m walking into?’

  ‘No,’ said Celine, ‘because I want to see the look on your face.’

  Keir swallowed. What could it be? Had they found his weed stash? He hadn’t beaten anyone up recently, so it couldn’t be that.

  ‘Come on, brother,’ said Kelsey, grabbing his arm and pulling him along, ‘and remember to live in the moment.’

  Celine led the way through the wide, airy corridors of the mansion until they reached a large reception room. Inside, though there was enough space for fifty, most of the room was empty, except for a small group sitting by the bay windows. Keir noticed his father first, and his sombre expression a second later. Before Keir could even think about reading his father’s mind, he heard a low cough come from the others in the group. Three people sat on a couch opposite Killop; a man, a woman and, squeezed between them his old girlfriend Jemma, her eyes lowered and almost closed. Keir frowned, then saw it – a small bulge around her middle. His heart froze.

  ‘Son,’ said his father. ‘Please sit.’

  Keir took a seat next to his father, his eyes never leaving Jemma. He heard Kelsey sit down at his side.

  ‘Would anyone like tea?’ said Celine.

  ‘Can I smoke?’ said the man on Jemma’s left.

  ‘Of course,’ said Killop. He turned to face Keir. ‘This is Oder and Wendy of Hold Fast, and their daughter Jemma.’

  The man lit a cigarette, his hands shaking as he pointed at Keir. ‘You did this to my daughter. You’ll do right by her, boy.’

  ‘Did what?’ said Kelsey.

  ‘Jemma is four-thirds pregnant,’ Killop said. ‘Are you the father, son?’

  ‘Of course he is,’ said Oder. ‘Do you think my daughter’s a liar or a whore?’

  ‘Please, friend,’ said Killop, ‘it’s important that Keir admits it. I want to hear him own what he has done, and I’m sure you and your family want to hear it as well.’

  All eyes turned to Keir. He heard Kelsey choke back a snigger. The little brat was loving this.

  ‘Come on, son,’ said Killop. ‘Are you the father?’

  Keir stared at Jemma. She was keeping her eyes closed so that he wouldn’t be able to read her; she knew all about his vision powers, and he had used them to tease her many times over the course of their brief relationship. Four-thirds pregnant, he thought. That tied in with when he had been dating her, and he knew that she had been faithful, he had made sure of it. The child was his.

  ‘Yes.’

  Jemma’s mother started to cry, and a tear slid down the face of Oder. Killop sighed deeply.

  ‘Now we need to think of the best course of action,’ his father said, ‘but before that, I want to be alone with my son.’

  Killop stood. Keir glanced up at him for a moment then got to his feet. He was still an inch or so shorter than his father, but the two of them towered over everyone else on the estate. Killop nodded and walked away, heading for the door. Keir strode after him, trying to keep his composure. His breaths were coming in thick gasps, and he felt a cold sweat running down his back. He cursed inwardly. He should have denied it; should have protested loudly that Jemma was a dirty liar, that he had never touched her; that she was framing him for the Holdfast name and wealth.

  His father stopped at the door to his study and they entered. Keir was shown a seat as Killop took a bottle from a shelf and sat in his armchair. He poured whisky into two glasses.

  ‘Can I smoke, father?’

  ‘Fuck it,’ Killop said. ‘You may as well. And I know you smoke weed.’

  Keir shrank a little into his seat. He had never heard his father swear at him before in his life. And had he just said that it was alright if he smoked weed?

  His father passed him a glass of whisky.

  ‘I imagine,’ he said, taking a sip, ‘that this will be the easier of the two talks you’re going to get from your parents. I’m angry, disappointed, but we have to make the best of it. Four thirds, eh? Is Jemma younger than you?’

  ‘By a third.’

  ‘So you were both sixteen, at least,’ Killop said. ‘It could have happened to me. I was lucky, you’re unlucky, but the baby will have everything it needs; the family will look after you and Jemma. I’m going to ask Oder and Wendy if they want to move into the mansion, along with Jemma, to
make it easier for when the baby comes.’

  Keir withdrew a stick of dreamweed and lit it, his father watching him.

  ‘So like your mother,’ Killop said. ‘The defiance. The weed.’

  Keir said nothing as the dreamweed calmed his nerves. He knew he was doing a good job of looking confident, but his mind was in turmoil, and a sick feeling was festering in his stomach.

  ‘Do you love Jemma?’ his father said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I didn’t think so. A shame. Obviously. Still, that doesn’t in any way abnegate your responsibilities. She’s going to have to live with what’s happened, and so should you. You did this thing together. The child will be half-you and half-her. Everything in your life is going to change.’

  Keir felt like he was going to throw up. He sipped the whisky, the warmth trickling down his throat. He pictured Jemma at nine-thirds pregnant, and shuddered, then imagined the birth. Would he have to be there? Nappies, crying, baby-sick, snot; he remembered Corthie as an infant and how his arrival had turned their house upside down; the smells and runny noses.

  ‘Can I still go to the New Year dance?’

  His father raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m going to put that question down to shock.’

  Keir vomited onto the carpet.

  ‘That’s Jemma’s family gone’ said Celine as she came out onto the veranda where Keir was sitting smoking a cigarette. ‘We told them you needed more time to think everything through.’

  Keir didn’t acknowledge his aunt’s presence, his gaze on the buildings of the estate. She sat next to him.

  ‘It’s not the end of the world, you know,’ she said. ‘Just think, in less than half a year there will be a new baby around the house.’

  He frowned. ‘Around the house?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Celine said. ‘They accepted your father’s invitation to move in. We’re going to put them all on the ground floor, in the guest suite. They’ll be comfortable there.’

  Keir hung his head.

  ‘The next step,’ Celine went on, ‘after we’ve told your mother, is to write to the university in Holdings City, to ask if your application can be put on hold for a year, maybe two.’

  ‘What?’ he said, his eyes wide.

  ‘Come now,’ Celine said, ‘you can’t possibly think that you’ll be moving out and going to university in a few thirds.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s not. Life can be hard sometimes, and remember that Jemma has to give up her dreams as well.’

  ‘This is bullshit; I’ve been planning university for years. I could still go, if you and father look after the baby.’

  ‘The days of us cleaning up after your mess are over. You keep telling us that you’re a man, and now it’s time to prove it.’

  Keir jumped to his feet. ‘How dare you! You, a mere housewife who happened to marry my uncle to become a Holdfast – you think you can tell me what to do?’

  Celine shook her head. ‘Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?’

  ‘You can’t stop me going to university.’

  ‘Maybe not, but your parents can.’

  ‘My mother would never agree.’

  Celine smiled. ‘Let’s put that to the test, shall we? Your mother will be here for New Year; why don’t you present your case to her when she arrives?’

  Keir thought of his mother’s reaction to the news and his heart sank. He dreaded seeing her face, and the anger in her eyes. He had always been her darling boy, and he remembered listening to her hopes for his future; hopes that hadn’t included getting a classmate pregnant. He lowered his eyes.

  ‘The grown-up thing to do,’ said Celine, ‘would be to accept the situation, and make the best of it. Jemma seems like a nice girl, between the two of you, you should make good parents if you work hard at it.’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Keir. ‘Every word you say makes me want to scream. You’re ruining my life.’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate; you’ll live.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ he cried. ‘How could you? You’re old and useless, and have never done anything with your life except leech off the Holdfasts. You should have left when Uncle Vince died, but instead you hung around because no one else wanted you. You’re glad this has happened to me; glad that my life is over, so you can see me reduced to your level.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ Celine said, rising and wiping her cheek, ‘you’re not a very nice person.’

  He glared at his aunt as she left the veranda and disappeared back into the mansion. He felt a flash of guilt at the sight of her tears, but tried to ignore it. Why was everyone against him? All he wanted to do was go to university and prove himself; he had so much potential, and yet everyone was conspiring to hold him back. He needed to speak to his father. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

  He rushed into the house and headed for his father’s study. He passed a couple of servants, who eyed him with knowing glances, and his temper burned like a candle. He felt his fire powers tingle in his fingers and, without meaning to, a couple of the lamps in the hallway flickered at his unspoken command. He had told no one about his secret, wanting to practise and practise until he was good enough to really amaze everyone, but his progress had been slow.

  The door to the study was closed when Keir approached, and he opened it without knocking. His father was sitting in his armchair, gazing out of the window, a glass of whisky in his hand.

  ‘Son,’ he said. ‘Have a seat.’

  ‘I know what we need to do,’ Keir said. ‘Just hear me out.’

  His father nodded, his expression closed.

  ‘The priority,’ Keir said, ‘is to protect the Holdfast name from scandal. Mother has many political enemies that might use this to hurt her, and we cannot allow that to happen. Luckily, we are rich enough to make it all disappear. Pay Jemma’s mum and dad a small fortune to take their daughter away and order them to never speak of it to anyone. The River Holdings would do, they could live there and no one would know them. They’d have good lives, and the Holdfast name would remain untarnished and free from malicious gossip. We could carry on as if nothing had happened.’

  His father sat for a long moment, his eyes directed at the view from the window as he sipped from his glass. Keir smiled. The old man was thinking over what he had said. Surely he would come round once he saw the sense in it?

  ‘What you are saying is cowardly,’ his father said at last. ‘Cowardly and foolish.’

  Keir stared at him, hatred twisting his face.

  ‘Cowardly because you want to wish your responsibilities away,’ his father went on, ‘and foolish because you’ve forgotten something important.’

  ‘What?’

  His father glanced at him. ‘What if the child has the same powers as your older sister?’

  Keir’s mouth opened.

  ‘You keep talking about the Holdfasts,’ his father said. ‘A family of mages. Me and your mother, and our half-Holdings, half-Kellach Brigdomin children. Karalyn might be the only dream mage, but you all have the potential within you. It would be wise to keep everyone with this bloodline together. Your child needs to be brought up here, not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because of what that child may become. Do you understand?’

  Keir fell into a chair and put his head in his hands.

  ‘It’s Jemma I feel sorry for,’ his father said. ‘If the child does turn out to have Karalyn’s powers, then she’s going to need a lot of help. Hopefully the odds are against it. Still, even if the baby’s not a dream mage, to have to go through pregnancy and giving birth at her age…’ He shook his head. ‘I wish you’d been more careful.’

  An old feeling of dread and anxiety formed in the pit of Keir’s stomach. Memories of his own troubled childhood, after being scoured as a baby by his sister Karalyn, threatened to resurface, after being suppressed for so long. Tantrums, hitting, biting; having to be restrained by his father after almost strangling his baby sister Kelsey in a fit of un
controllable rage. The shame of being slow in class, and of the stutter that had plagued him until he had turned fourteen. The shy, unhappy boy of his youth had been hidden away for years, locked in a corner of Keir’s mind, never to be released.

  He shook himself. No. He wasn’t the same. His vision powers, his height and strength, and his looks; and now also the knowledge that he was a fire mage. That was who he was, not the pathetic loser that was too embarrassed to even speak to girls, let alone get one pregnant. That was something to boast about, at least. If he was to be a father, then people would treat him as a man.

  Keir stood and left the study without a word. He had walked into the room confident that he had the answer to his problems, but had retreated, beaten by his father’s oppressive logic. He felt his eyes moisten as he began to realise that he was trapped. His parents would force him to give up everything. He hated them all – his parents, Celine, and Jemma and her stupid family. He found himself back outside, the evening air beginning to cool. A fresh breeze was blowing in from the west, and he caught the scent of the open plains. He turned, and made for the courtyard. At least Monty wouldn’t nag him about what to do. The stables were quiet, and Keir slipped in through the main entrance. He walked up the central passage until he reached the booth where Monty stood. He opened the half-door.

  ‘About bloody time,’ Kelsey said. ‘This place stinks. When did you last clean out Monty’s stable?’

  He gazed at his sister, sitting on a stool by Monty’s right flank. Behind her was stacked a large pile of luggage.

  ‘I made a list,’ Kelsey said as Keir continued to stare, ‘but I had to get a bit creative. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to bring with you, so I focussed on the essentials: money, clothes, weed…’

  ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  Kelsey grabbed hold of her head, her fingers grasping her dark hair. She made a strange, low moaning sound.

  ‘You are so exasperating,’ she said, her eyes wide, ‘why can’t this be simple? Why can’t you just listen to what I say? Could anything be worse that having to live through the same frustrations twice over? The first time in a vision, the second time for real. Sometimes I get confused between the two, and your stupidity only makes it worse.’