They stopped at a military checkpoint close to the Evergreen Palace, one flanking the massive Golden Court and well within the prison's palisade. The prison itself was crafted from burnt orange granite. Narrow, barred windows were sparsely placed along the two story building. The columns before the Golden Court were carved in the likeness of autumn trees, mostly bare of leaves, and images of King Holly, the Argosian deity of autumn and winter, those seasons of death's slumber.
As they climbed out of the carriages a group exited the prison- six of the Praetorian Guard escorting a bound prisoner to the Court's execution grounds.
Kalla's eyes narrowed as she looked over the prisoner. His gait was proud, his head held high. The man wore the tattered, disheveled remains of a Guard uniform.
The uniforms consisted of a dark green tunic, black breeches, and black boots. A chain-mail vest of snakeskin was worn over the tunic. This was no ordinary snakeskin. Crafted from the skins of armour snakes, it was a very fine, lightweight, and flexible. A dark iridescent grey in color, snakeskin armour was strong enough to stop most weapons. A black surcoat open to the front, with the Trinity Claw of House Sykes embroidered on the back, was worn over the mail. Each Guard had a sword belted at the waist, and a holster slung across their backs held the trade-mark weaponry of the elite Praetorian Guard- a short-barreled rifle.
The Praetorian Guard were the best of the Argosian military, and the personal Guard of the Emperor himself. Kalla wondered what one of them could possibly have done that warranted his execution. She also knew that Manny could do no worse for a magister, if the man would accept. She reached out and touched his hand, reforging the link between them, even as the Guards shoved the prisoner to his knees against the inner wall of the palisade that surrounded the Golden Court.
“Time to learn to throw your weight around, Lord kyl'Malkador. That man is one of the Praetorian Guard. You could find no better choice, save among the Harriers of Arkaddia. And trust me when I say that might make the Khan a bit upset at the moment,” she said with a dry laugh.
Manny swallowed hard, but took a decisive step forward and when he spoke, it was in a strong voice.
“Stop!” The young Healer's voice rang across the courtyard. The Guards froze and looked over at Kalla's group. Their guides spun around, agitated. Before they could say anything, Manny was already striding from the path, crossing the courtyard to where the prisoner knelt. The man looked up as the mage approached, his face tired, but fiercely proud. The captive Guard was an older gentleman, his black hair turning a gunmetal grey.
The Guards had backed off, scowling at the mage. Kalla was too far way to hear what Manny said to the prisoner, but they exchanged a lengthy conversation that earned several angry looks from the Guards. Finally the man nodded wearily, bowing his head as Manny crouched down before him.
Manny made a small gesture and the man's shackles fell away. The prisoner shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his wrists, but remained kneeling where he was. He didn't flinch as Manny reached out and placed hands to his face. A few moments passed, then Manny rose to his feet, offering a hand to help the man up.
The dignitaries frowns deepened as Manny spoke with the Guards, then disappeared into the Golden Court with them, followed by his new magister. Unmoved by assurances that Manny would be brought to the Evergreen Palace, Kartoff insisted that they be allowed to follow him. Their guides finally gave up and escorted the Dashmari into the prison. The Guards inside took them to a room where Manny waited while his magister was cleaned up and properly clothed.
“I see you found what you were looking for, Lord kyl'Malkador,” Kartoff said.
“Yes, my Lord. I thank you. If not for your intervention, I wouldn't have gotten this far,” Manny replied. “Lukas Aricsson, former Praetor, accused of treason and attempted assassination. He tells an interesting story though. Says he wasn't trying to kill Emperor Sykes, but rather Grosso, who is apparently interfering with the Imperial Court.”
As if speaking of him had summoned him, voices outside the door heralded the arrival of Lukas, looking much more presentable than he had outside.
The former Praetor was dressed in a Guard uniform sans the surcoat. A shortsword hung at his side, balanced by a bullet pouch on the other side. One of the rifles rested against his back. Lukas bowed to them, his movements deadly grace.
“Lord kyl'Malkador, Your Grace,” Lukas said. He bowed deeply, fist to chest in the Argosian way. Eyes the color of evergreen pines assessed the four Dashmari. His voice held the easy drawl that characterized most Argosian speech. Quick as foxes in their thinking, yet most of Argoth's citizenry drawled their words in a lazy tone, hiding just how cunning and clever they could be. Kalla hid a smile. It had been a long time since she had heard an Argosian with such a pronounced accent as Lukas'. If she had to wager a guess, she'd say he was from northern Argoth.
“Well met, Magister Aricsson,” Vander replied. The man winced, a mere tightening of the skin around his eyes, but Kalla caught it. He was still trying to figure out how he felt about his new situation.
“Sir Lukas, you will be traveling to the Evergreen Palace with us. Is that going to be a problem for you?” Vander asked. Lukas winced again, but shook his head.
“No, Your Grace. Emperor Sykes will likely not be pleased, but I have been fairly claimed as a magister of the Kanlon. I am grateful for a chance to maybe put things right.
“I will warn you though, Your Grace, that there is another mage here already, interfering where the magi are forbidden to interfere,” Lukas said, voice tight with anger and tension.
“Yes, Lord kyl'Malkador has shared that with me. Perhaps we will be able to do something about that, in the end,” Vander replied.
“I would be in your debt,” Lukas said with a bow. Now that Lukas was done, the Guards lead them back to the waiting dignitaries.
“I think we are finished here. Please, do lead on,” Vander said. They scowled at him, giving Lukas an even more unfriendly look. Kalla guessed that news of Manny's new magister would precede them to the Palace and Sykes would be fully aware of the situation long before they arrived. She hadn't missed the Guard that had spoken to their guides, then took off at a trot.
As they filed out of the prison and started up the wide avenue that would lead them to the Evergreen Palace, the three magisters spread out to surround Kalla, 'Kartoff' and Manny. Lukas easily and instinctively worked with the two soldiers, not realizing that they were magisters as well. Kasai took the point of the protective triangle, Aleister the left and Lukas the right. A phalanx of the Guard surrounded them, ostensibly as an escort.
The group rounded the corner, turning onto another broad avenue. The Evergreen Palace dominated the street's end. Carved from a dark green granite, the Palace rose in elegant tree towers, Trinity Crown banners snapping and fluttering from the tops.
Columns before the Imperial Palace were carved with images of green thriving trees and depictions of King Oak, the deity of spring and summer, the seasons of life's exultation. Two rows of Royal Pines lined the sides of the avenue, while a single row of giant Regal Oaks ran up the center. The street was broad enough for columns of soldiers to pass up or down either side. Nearby a small river burbled, an offshoot of the great Algassey River.
More of the Praetorian Guard stood at attention before the Palace. They bowed as the procession approached them. A tall man stepped forward. He was dressed in pants and tunic of a hunter green. The collar and sleeves were embroidered with gold thread in a tiny leaf pattern. Over this he wore a black tabard with the Trinity Claw on the back.
“Greetings, Emperor Kartoff, and welcome to Imperia Argosia. My name is Owyn Jacobsson, Castellan of the Evergreen. If you will please follow me, the Emperor is waiting to meet you.” Owyn paused. His eyes narrowed as his gaze settled on Lukas.
“I must, however, ask that the mage and his… magister remain here. The servants will take them to comfortable quarters.”
“We would be delighted to accompany
you. All of us, that is, for I am afraid I must insist that the mage stay with us.” Vander moved so that both Manny and Lukas were behind him. “I have invited him to join my party, thus making him my responsibility. Until we should choose to part ways, he is of my pack and entitled to the same such courtesy as the rest. Are you implying that I should also let my soldiers be taken to 'comfortable quarters' as well,” he asked in a flat voice.
“No, Your Grace. The soldiers can accompany you. They are Dashmari. The Mage is not…”
“Who are you, to tell me whom I can consider pack, Castellan? I value his company and he is mine to protect. If this is how I am to be treated, I think I may as well leave now and curse the fact that I have traveled so far,” 'Kartoff' growled.
Owyn's jaws tightened and Kalla could almost hear his teeth grinding. She wanted to laugh, for Vander's performance was wonderful. He was a good actor, she had to give him that. Through their bond, she felt Aleister's amusement as well. The Castellan came to a sudden decision and nodded abruptly towards Vander.
“Very well. He may stay with you,” Owyn said reluctantly. Vander gave him a grin, baring long canine teeth. The Dashmari sported prominent fangs, another legacy from the frost wolves. The Castellan paled slightly, instinctively understanding the implied threat in Vander's gesture. It was a look that, while neutral or mirthful for most people, for a Dashmari, said 'I'll be more than happy to rip your throat out, if you keep annoying me.'
“Thank you, Castellan,” Vander said in a polite voice. Through the entire exchange, Manny had stayed silent, apparently trusting Kalla's judgment that he would be safe in the Dashmari 'Emperor's' hands.
Accompanied by their Guard escort, the followed Owyn to the Emperor's throne room. As they approached, another of the Guard, posted outside the throne room, rapped on the massive golden tree-wrought doors with a heavy, metal-tipped staff. An answering rap came from the other side, then the doors swung inward, pulled open by more of the Praetorian Guard within.
Lord of Leaves
Evergreen Palace, Imperia Argosia, Argoth, Year of the Mythril Serpent, 2014 CE
Kalla's eyes were immediately drawn to the Evergreen Throne, crafted from a living Royal Pine that rose to the very top of the vaulted ceiling. A skylight above the throne let in light, and several times a day servants watered the stately tree. Upon this throne sat Elim Sykes, Lord of Leaves and Emperor of the Argosian Empire. Sykes wore an outfit similar to the Castellan, but of a much richer cut and without the tabard. A golden crown, woven in the shape of entwined leaves rested upon his head. Winks of green fire drew her attention to two rings on his hands, emeralds set in gold. One was the Imperial signet ring, the other a beautifully crafted oak leaf.
Before the throne, flanking it to either side, stood the current Praetor, and a woman in the uniform of the Argosian Fleet. Behind the woman stood a man who regarded them with lazy indifference.
The Praetor looked much like the Guards, the only difference in uniform being that his surcoat was edged in gold. He wore an oak leaf ring like Sykes', carved from carnelian, rather than emerald, and a Trinity Claw engraved in amethyst, the color of the Guard's rings. He was younger than Lukas, his hair still jet black. Bittersweet brown eyes regarded them with an impassivity that was frightening from one so young.
As they drew closer, Kalla's eyes widened slightly as she got a better look at the woman to Sykes' left. She wore the same ash-grey uniform that Ventaal did, but the braiding at her sleeve cuffs was different. The uniforms bore the Trinity Claw upon the right shoulder and the Flagship emblem upon the left. Ventaal's was a stylized silver elephant with an orb curled in its trunk. This lady had a golden bird clutching branches in its claws and was none other than the Fleet Admiral herself, the captain of the Grand Flagship Phoenix. Like all in the Fleet, she wore a ruby Trinity Claw ring. The Fleet Admiral caught Kalla's gaze and inclined her head politely.
The man behind the Admiral wore steel-grey robes with the same golden bird on one shoulder. An eagle and snake emblem graced the other. This man, then, was the sa'mir or Chief Technomancer, of the Phoenix. The Technomancers were a part of the Fleet. Magick users with a more technological bent, they served Mercurius, the Argosian deity of magick and the martial world.
Kalla was honestly surprised that the children of the Clockwork God would suffer another magick-user to interfere with their Emperor, and she prayed a quick prayer that Grosso had not managed to corrupt the se'tov, the leaders of the Technomancers. A flagship's Chief Technomancer could overrule the Admiral and take control of the ship, quite literally, if the sa'mir happened to be an Old One or had an al'raj with them. It would do them no good to free Sykes, if the Technomancers went rogue.
The Kanlon held an uneasy peace with Argoth's magick-users, but if it came to a true fight there was no doubt in the Healer's mind as to which group would win…
Sykes rose as they approached, stepping down to stand between Praetor and Admiral. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Manny and Lukas, but he chose to ignore the presence of his former Praetor.
“Greetings, Emperor Kartoff, and welcome to Argoth. I trust your visit thus far has been satisfactory. Night draws near. Will you, perhaps, join us for dinner and we can discuss business matters upon the 'morrow? No doubt you are tired after your travels.” Sykes asked.
“Greetings, Emperor Sykes. Well met. We would be honored to join you. As you say, business can wait,” Kartoff replied. He stepped back and gestured to Manny. “May I introduce Manny kyl'Malkador?”
“Greetings, Lord kyl'Malkador. Welcome to Argoth,” Sykes nodded to the young Mage.
“Lord kyl'Malkador is my guest for the time being. You will have no objection to him joining us, né?”
The slightest of grimaces flitted across the Argosian Emperor's face, gone as quickly as it had come.
“Of course not, Emperor Kartoff,” he replied.
Kalla tensed as a whisper of power curled through the throne room. She shivered as the power caressed her, assessing her, then discounting her. The Healer recognized the feel of it. Solidor's former Tem' was somewhere within the Evergreen Palace, though not close enough to locate.
Before her, Kalla saw an almost unnoticeable tremor run through Vander as the power touched him. Beside her Manny shivered, glancing around nervously. The Technomancer's eyes narrowed and he scowled faintly. Clearly he could sense the mental intrusion and disliked it. Grosso's power receded, apparently satisfied enough that they were what they seemed to be. No doubt he would seek out Kartoff later and then what would be, would be. Sykes and those with him noticed nothing different, or if they did, they didn't betray it. Kalla sighed with relief as the rogue mage's power faded away. The Fox's own brand of magick had held firm against the inquisitive intrusion.
“If you will please follow us then.” Sykes gestured towards a door past the throne. He turned to follow his Praetor, the Fleet Admiral and her sa'mir falling behind him. They ended up in a small dining room just perfect for a group their size. Servants seated the group, Dashmari soldiers included, and in due order came bustling back with a dinner of potato dumplings, baked partridge and a mix of sautéed squashes.
Apparently Grosso had at least told them to allow the Dashmari soldiers to dine with their Emperor. It would have been seen as a weakness for them to actually stand guard over Kartoff, undermining his authority as an alpha able to take care of himself. They were guards, yes, but they were also his pack. As lesser wolves they would not eat until Kartoff had, but they would eat with him. She also realized that the Argosians had subconsciously picked her as his second, his Dashtela. Kalla fought the urge to laugh hysterically at that notion and earned a covert worried look from Aleister.
Dinner passed with little incident. Kalla, and the magisters, paid a watchful attention to the goings-on, though little mind was paid to them. She learned that the Fleet Admiral's name was Tabitha Ryansdottr, her sa'mir was Lefellus, and the new Praetor was James Everettsson.
Nor did Sir James
care for Lukas' presence, but the newly raised magister steadfastly ignored the younger man's veiled hostility. Sykes, for his part, chose to ignore the former Praetor, but the Healer sensed his tension. From Lukas, she sensed a great deal of bitterness. Sykes was a man he had once called friend, and his misconstrued actions to protect Sykes had shattered the bond between them. What Kalla would like to ask Lukas was why a truth-read on him not been done by one of the Technomancers.
The tense meal finished and Sykes himself led the Dashmari to the quarters that had been arranged for them. It was a large room from which most of the furnishings had been hastily removed. Piles of blankets and pillows had been left for the Dashmari to make their own pallets, and the Healer realized with a start how very similar the Dashmari were to the Arkaddians in that respect, preferring nests on the ground to beds with mattresses. Kartoff gestured for Manny to precede him into the room, preventing any attempt to separate the mage from his group. Sir James started to protest, but Sykes stopped him with an upraised hand. The Praetor subsided into angry fuming, but said nothing.
“Emperor Kartoff, could I perhaps speak with you privately for a moment?” he asked. Kartoff followed him down the hall a short bit, out of earshot, but still within sight of the Praetor and the Dashmari soldiers. The two briefly conversed, and the groups parted ways.
Vander gave a sigh of relief and leaned against the closed door. “Emperor Sykes would like me to know I am harboring a traitor. He understands that Lukas is now magister, but thinks I would do well to watch my back.”
Lukas snorted. “I have no intention of harming either you or Emperor Sykes, Your Grace,” he drawled. “The other mage, however, he's a different story, he is. If I get another chance at him, I intend to take it.”
“I wouldn't advise that, Sir Lukas,” Kalla said quietly. “If something should happen to you, your mage will share it with you. And if you should die, he would feel it very clearly. Rest assured, things will be taken care of, one way or another.”
Empress of Wolves (Evalyce Worldshaper Book 3) Page 2