Mageborn 05 The Final Redemption

by Michael G. Manning

  Moira intervened at that point, “I think what Gareth is trying to get at is that there was a lively shipping trade back then, between Lothion, Gododdin, and Garulon. While most of the mariners stayed within coastal waters, some did venture farther on missions of exploration, including a few wizards. Nothing as substantial as the place you describe was ever found.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be found. The man who created it wanted to be certain of that,” I informed her.

  She scowled at me, “Perhaps it would help if you revealed your source of information. Obviously you have discovered something, but we can’t assess its reliability without knowing more.” The set of her jaw hinted at controlled irritation, hiding just below the surface.

  As so often was the case lately, I was tempted to react violently. That’s not normal, I wasn’t like this before. I struggled with my anger, waiting until I had a firmer grip on my words before replying, “I have a lot of information now, but I will not share its source, other than to tell you it was a family secret.” A family I am not truly a part of. “What I can tell you is that my ancestor, the man who created the Elentir Mountains, also created this island. And for reasons very similar to your own when you hid your daughter, he made sure it would never be discovered accidentally.”

  “If it isn’t there, we may have to swim back,” observed Gareth. “After flying a full day out I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to make it back to shore.”

  I took my gauntlet off to let him gauge the power I had taken from the Iron Heart Chamber. “If necessary, I can get us back.”

  Noting the immense power I was radiating, Gareth made a different observation, “You don’t need us at all. Why do you insist on dragging us along then?”

  “You are the last living archmage, dragon or not,” I said. “There are things there you should see. I may not be able to defeat Mal’goroth. I may not be able to fulfill Illeniel’s promise. If I can’t do both, the world is forfeit. You are the best hope of success if I fail. That is why I’m dragging you along.”

  “Those are things to share with a friend, an ally, not a slave,” he remarked.

  “I don’t have those luxuries anymore. I’m gambling that you will prefer to pick up where I left off if I cannot complete these things.”

  A deep rumble came from the dragon. “You assume too much regarding my intentions.”

  I don’t think so. Not after what happened last night with Moira Centyr. I kept my thoughts to myself, though. “Let’s get going. We’ve talked enough,” I told them.

  Gareth snapped his teeth together with a loud crack, an action that I assumed meant he was angry, but before he could respond Moira held up her hand. “Arguing won’t do us any good. We may as well see what this hidden island of his has in store for us,” she said in a calming tone.

  “If it is there,” grumbled the dragon.

  “As hard as it may be to believe, he hasn’t shown himself to be a fool yet. Do you really doubt him, or do you just like bickering?” she asked pointedly.

  Gareth gave her a hard stare before bending his foreleg for us to climb up. Muttering under his breath I could hear, “He’s still an asshole.” Considering the volume of a dragon’s mutter, I had to assume he meant for me to hear him. I ignored the slight and took my place on his neck, a bit in front of his powerful shoulders.

  It was an accurate assessment of my disposition these days, I admitted inwardly.

  If Moira replied to him, it was silently and without including me.

  ***

  We had been flying for an hour with the sun at our backs and the endless water stretched out for what seemed forever in every direction. The silence, except for the tireless beating of Gareth’s wings, had become comfortable, and my thoughts had been drifting. Considering the past, my mistakes, my family, I wondered where I had gone wrong. Correction, where ‘he’ went wrong.

  I was surprised when Moira’s thoughts broke into my reverie, There are some things you should know.

  I raised a mental eyebrow but didn’t bother to formalize my question.

  As you already know, the Centyr family was long known for their ability to create magical sentience. While you are not the result of a deliberate spell such as I might have woven, the nature of your condition is very similar.

  I smiled inside my armor. I’m not a gambling man, but I’d be willing to bet you’re about to give me bad news.

  She glanced backward, and I could see the seriousness of her expression. I couldn’t help but admire the improvement in her now human face. It conveyed her emotions much better than the stone and earth had.

  The Centyr wizards had centuries to practice their craft, experimenting with our special gift, learning how to create stable personalities, she began.

  Does this have something to do with the reason you didn’t use live humans when you created the Shining Gods? I asked.

  Yes.

  I had already spent considerable time combing through the memories of my ancestor. Primarily the parts regarding the way he devised his enchantment, but also some of his conversation with the original Moira Centyr. The primary reason was because of the cruelty involved in trapping a human soul. You would essentially be killing a living person and caging their soul. Isn’t that what you told my ancestor?

  Now it was her turn to be surprised, and the emotion was easily read in her reply, How would you know that?

  I told you, my sources are private, I answered calmly. In any case, I already know what’s happened to the real Mordecai. There isn’t much I can do about it now, but when the time comes I plan to release him if I can find a way. Because of Lyralliantha’s order I couldn’t relay the fact that I already had a method available to do so, but I had considered telling her once I was free of my compulsion.

  There is more to it than that. Minds created from magic tend to be highly unstable. Even among the Centyr, it was a mark of great skill to create one that remained stable for more than a few years. Very few of us could manage one that showed true resilience.

  That didn’t sound encouraging. What exactly do you mean by ‘resilience’? I asked.

  Long lasting mental stability, the best of us could create complex minds that would remain stable indefinitely, similar to a living person’s, she clarified.

  Then why in the hell would you use them when you created the Shining Gods?

  She sighed mentally, I was one of the best. It was thought that they would remain stable for as long as they were needed, perhaps even forever.

  Well, you royally screwed that one up then, I admonished her. I’m glad I’m not your handiwork, although you still seem to be holding up well.

  I was perhaps her best work, and I have spent much of the past millennium sleeping, until Mordecai arrived anyway. I do not think you will fare as well, she informed me bluntly.

  So I’m likely to go insane. Where have I heard that before? I asked sarcastically. Much of my early career as a wizard, Mordecai’s career anyway, had been spent fretting over the voices that everyone thought indicated incipient insanity.

  She shook her head. This is no joke. Given your unusual origin I cannot guess how long it will take, but you already show signs.

  Signs?

  Irrational anger, violence, behavior not in keeping with your original’s personality, she explained.

  From what I can recall, he frequently became irritated when he was under stress. I don’t think I’ve been that different, I countered.

  Did he ever try to kill a friend? Cyhan’s wounds did not seem minor.

  That was in the heat of combat, I retorted, he was out to kill me.

  Yet you were in no danger from him.

  I could feel myself growing steadily angrier at the conversation. He killed innocents. I was referring to the ‘real’ Mordecai.

  Only by accident, she rebuked me, or when it was unavoidable.

  I fought to control myself. What do you suggest, ‘Oh Sage’? I asked bitterly. You must have some wisdom to guide me.r />
  Unfortunately, I do not. You must work quickly.

  I growled in frustration. Even as an immortal the universe seemed keen on denying me the time I needed. On the bright side, insanity can’t be worse than what I’ve been living with so far, I thought, but I kept that one to myself.

  Chapter 17

  Elise Thornbear stepped carefully from the carriage while one of the footmen hovered nearby, watching to see if she might need a hand while she descended the short steps. She nodded gratefully toward him, but despite her middling years she needed no assistance, she was still quite hale.

  She had come to see Genevieve, the Queen of Lothion and her closest friend. In fact, that had been her main reason for moving to Albamarl. With her husband gone and her son busy with his new family, she had found much more to keep herself occupied moving in the rarified atmosphere that surrounded the royal court.

  While she had kept the news of Mordecai’s secret letter quiet, at least in regard to Penny, she felt that James should be aware of it. It would make an excellent topic of discussion with Ginny in any case.

  As she crossed the courtyard she noticed a sturdy fellow, mostly bald, with a sallow complexion. He was entering his own carriage and while she was certain he must have seen her arrive; he took care not to look in her direction—probably with good reason, for she recognized him.

  Addicus Shreve, she thought, naming him internally. Why is he here? Her heart sped up as she considered the implications. Pausing, she moved to address the head groomsman, “Excuse me young man, who is that gentleman leaving just now?”

  The man was startled but answered readily enough, “Alan Shenwick, milady, a logistics consultant hired by Lord Hightower.”

  “I see,” she said mildly, though the man’s words had alarmed her. “How long has he been coming to the palace?”

  The groom looked uncomfortable, “It really isn’t my business to consider these things, milady.”

  Elise gave him a charitable smile, “I understand you aren’t encouraged to gossip, but I’m to meet with Ginny today and I think she might remember the fellow you just pointed out. Surely you could speculate a bit for me?”

  “Ginny, milady?”

  She gave him a slightly sterner expression. “The Queen, Genevieve,” she said to clarify.

  “Oh!” he replied, eyes darting to the side anxiously. “Begging your pardon, the man has been coming for several weeks, though I’m told today was the last day of his commission, so he probably won’t be back.”

  “Thank you,” she answered graciously, before turning away. She struggled to keep her steps modest and evenly measured as she began making her way from the courtyard. Her deepest impulse was to scream and run, but she knew panic would help no one.

  She stopped as soon as she had entered the main palace and a glance got her the attention of the chief chamberlain, a man named Adam. He came over quickly enough, bowing his head subserviently. As the chief among the palace staff he was a man of considerable power and influence, indeed, these days even many noble visitors hesitated to trouble him without good cause. Otherwise, the wait for an audience with the king could take considerably longer than it might if he were more favorably inclined.

  Of course, he knew Lady Thornbear quite well since she visited almost daily. “Do you need something, milady?” he asked submissively.

  “You are most observant,” she said, complimenting him. “I will be seeing the Queen shortly, but I’d like you to relay a message to His Majesty, as well as his daughter if she is here today.”

  “What message, milady?”

  “It is private, so if you’ll provide me with pen and ink…,” she said, letting her sentence trail away.

  In no time at all he had brought a sheet of parchment and one of the newer steel tipped pens. She wasted no time drafting two identical notes, one for James and one for Ariadne. Folding them she passed them to Adam’s waiting hand. “I trust you will not read them or allow them into any other hands but theirs,” she said sternly.

  “Of course, milady,” he returned solemnly.

  “Very good,” she acknowledged. “Now if you will excuse me, I must be seeing the Queen now.”

  “Would you like an escort?” Adam asked promptly.

  She smiled, “I know the way, and an escort would merely delay me. I’m sure the guards know me well enough by now.”

  She was, of course, correct. No one troubled her on her way to the private part of the palace reserved for the royal family and their closest friends and retainers. Most considered her the ‘de facto’ lady-in-waiting for the Queen, though she did not actually hold that position. A variety of men-at-arms bowed respectfully as she passed, but none questioned her. She reached Ginny within less than five minutes, walking at her fastest pace to cover the distance. The palace was quite large after all.

  Genevieve smiled when she saw Lady Thornbear enter the room. Gesturing to a tea tray that had just been brought in, she greeted her friend, “Elly! You should try one of these scones. The cook says he’s found a new recipe and I hear…”

  Her words cut off abruptly as Elise dashed across the room to bat her hand aside, knocking the pastry she had held to the floor.

  Shocked she started to exclaim, “What in the world has…”

  Elise shushed her with a sharp look, holding one finger to her lips. “Are we alone?” Her eyes moved sideways to indicate the sides of the room, an unspoken reminder of the hidden guards that kept a watch over the royal family in virtually all areas of the palace.

  Genevieve pursed her lips and then rose gracefully from her seat. She walked toward the door, looking back to make sure Elise was following her. They passed through two more rooms before greeting two guards as they entered the most private area of the royal living quarters. Once they were inside and the door was closed she questioned her friend, “Alright, Elise, what’s got you so worked up?”

  Lady Thornbear wasted no time. “As I left my carriage today I spotted a man I recognized, someone I knew from long ago, before I met Gram. I questioned the groomsman, and he told me that he’d been working in the palace for the past few weeks.”

  The Queen frowned, “Someone from the place where they had you working or…”

  Elise shook her head negatively. “No, someone from the church itself, one of my teachers,” she clarified before adding the final nail, “their master poisoner.”

  Genevieve’s eyes opened wide. “They aren’t even supposed to be in the city, how would they get such a person in here?”

  “I don’t know Ginny. The man has never been widely known. Only his students ever met him within the church itself, otherwise I wouldn’t even have known who he was. Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t tried something like this before, unless they were worried about further retribution,” said Elise. “But then, Mordecai is gone now, and there’s a lot of growing support for the four churches with these new miracles.”

  “Enough,” said the Queen. “What do you think he might have done? We have tasters, and the kitchen staff are carefully watched.”

  “I don’t know. There are a dozen different things they might try. Poisoning you and James are only the most obvious, and there are poisons that take days or even weeks to show their effects; tasters won’t guarantee your safety,” answered Elise. “The first thing we need to do is make certain that James and your children know. None of you can eat or drink anything that has already been prepared for you, nor can you eat anything that is expected to reach your plates. That means dining with friends or getting your meals in some other unexpected manner. Your routine sources are the ones that are most vulnerable.”

  Genevieve responded, “I’ve already had my morning tea and that wasn’t my first scone for the day.”

  “They may have been safe. We don’t know when, where or even who they plan to poison,” said Elise. “You might want to empty your stomach anyway.” She gestured toward her own throat with a single finger.

  The Queen grimaced but nodded.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” She went to find a chamber pot.

  While Genevieve was occupied Elise kept herself busy by borrowing the use of the writing desk. She penned another short missive before taking it to the guard outside the door. “Please have this carried to Sir Dorian Thornbear, my son. As of yesterday, he was staying at Lady Rose Hightower’s house…,” she finished by giving him the address, even though she had written it on the outside of her note.

  “Forgive me, milady,” said the guard, after patiently letting her finish, “I am not allowed to leave my post under any circumstances. There is a bell pull to summon one of the servants for other purposes…”

  “I don’t have time to wait. Find the chamberlain; tell him the queen wants this sent by runner immediately. Not the regular mail, she wants a runner sent now,” she used a tone indicated she would brook no delays.

  Giving his fellow guardsman a look, the fellow took the note and promptly left.

  Lady Thornbear turned to the second guard, “What’s your name?”

  “Jonathan Greenly, milady,” he answered promptly.

  She nodded, “Do not report your fellow guard for leaving his post, do you understand? I know how you people operate. If he gets in trouble for obeying the Queen’s order I’ll see you whipped and your commander can be damned. Have I made myself clear?”

  The man swallowed visibly, “Yes, milady.”

  She gave him a gracious smile and closed the door. When Genevieve returned from her purge Elise spent a few minutes explaining the notes, both to Ariadne and James as well as her newest note to Dorian.

  The Queen took in the information quickly. “My daughter is going over some of the royal accounts this morning, so she’ll probably be with the chief factor and the head accountant. James won’t get your message for at least an hour though; he’s meeting with Tremont and some of the other lords this morning. Your note will most likely be held at the door until he finishes with them,” Genevieve informed her.