Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2)

by Brian W. Foster

  Dylan told her help was on the way, but his face must have displayed his indecision.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Really?”

  He let out a long breath. “The mayor needs to talk to me, but my place is here with you, at least until we know Jeffry is okay.”

  “Go,” she said.

  “But—”

  “Go. Tend to business.”

  “You’re sure?” he said.

  Mari nodded. “Just hurry back, okay?”

  Still unsure he was doing the right thing, he joined Sergeant Pruitt, Mayor Williamson, and the three militiamen who escorted Myles and his son. As they walked toward town, Dylan explained that Xan, Lainey, and Brant were also mages, meaning that anyone who hadn’t gotten sick during the plague was probably one as well. Dylan would have to go to each person, test them to confirm their ability, and break the news to them.

  He couldn’t think of a less pleasant task, but duty demanded it be done.

  “I’d appreciate anything you can do to help,” he said to the mayor.

  “Don’t do it, your honor,” Myles said. “Only the queen can overturn the law, and she hasn’t. Your townspeople risk execution.”

  “I’ve held my post for a decade, young man,” Mayor Williamson said. “Believe me when I tell you that I fully understand the situation. You, on the other hand, are neglecting the fact that Duke Asher is my liege lord. I cannot, and will not, gainsay his direct order based on what Queen Anna may or may not do.”

  Myles shook his head. “Your honor—”

  “May I finish?” the mayor said.

  Myles had the decency to look chagrined. “Sorry, your honor.”

  “Since the duke’s orders countermand the queen’s law, however, I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t send a courier to Escon confirming Her Majesty’s wishes in the matter. In the meantime, Dylan will remain free to fulfill his duties.”

  “And if the queen wants the law upheld?” Myles said.

  “Her orders, obviously, hold higher precedence than the duke’s and will be honored.”

  “That sounds fair, your honor.”

  Dylan tensed. His life was in jeopardy. Again.

  On the plus side, though, Lady Ashley was as formidable a person as he’d ever met. If anyone could convince the queen to pardon the mages, it was her. As long as Xan didn’t do something idiotic to get in the way, things would probably turn out just fine.

  Considering Xan’s general disdain for nobles, though, the chances of him behaving were … slim.

  Dylan grimaced. Yeah, they were all pretty much sunk.

  But there was no sense dwelling on what couldn’t be controlled. He had a mission to complete. “And you’ll have the town council issue an official proclamation endorsing my actions?”

  “That I will,” the mayor said. “The town will extend you all possible cooperation.”

  “But?” Dylan said.

  There was one coming. There had to be.

  “But …” Mayor Williamson smiled. “You will not take any permanent steps until after we hear from the queen. Understood?”

  He had to be referring to getting potential mages to surge.

  “No problem there,” Dylan said. “I’ve only been ordered to find them. Anything else, I’ll leave that to whoever the duke puts in charge.”

  “And you, mage hunter, will be released contingent upon your agreement not to interfere with recruitment,” the mayor said. “Do I have your word?”

  Myles shrugged. “As long as he’s not actively creating mages, I suppose I have no objections.” He paused before turning to Dylan. “You said you had to test each person, right? You have the ability to confirm that someone is a mage?”

  Dylan hesitated before answering. He didn’t know exactly what the mage hunter was getting at. “Yes.”

  “Maybe we can help each other,” Myles said. “I track mages from rumors of magic use, but I can’t just trust that the stories are true. Like I did with you and the rocks, I usually set a trap to catch the accused in the act. There are these three people, though … I could never confirm my suspicions.”

  “You want to bring them here for me to test?” Dylan said.

  “That’s the plan. For each that you confirm, I get one gold.”

  Dylan looked the man’s ragged clothes over. An entire gold per mage? Right. He frowned. “No thanks.”

  “What?” Myles said. “You just practically begged for help not five minutes ago.”

  “Begged?” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Tell you what … you look like you could use the coin. I guess I could spare a copper for each mage you find for me.”

  “A copper! You’ve got to be kidding me. Nine silvers. Minimum.”

  They got down to haggling, eventually settling on a single silver per. Dylan hid a grin. He’d have the duke reimburse him … at a much higher rate, of course.

  Soon after the agreement was reached, the mage hunter and his son departed, making plans to return to Eagleton in two weeks, and with that business out of the way, Dylan and Sergeant Pruitt followed the mayor to his office.

  After sitting behind his desk, he frowned. “Maybe my news is best left for the duke only.”

  “If there’s a threat,” Dylan said, “the sergeant and I need to know about it.”

  “Believe me, there is one,” the mayor said, “but with the pass snowed in, it’s not likely to hit before spring. Even if you are still here, throwing you—mage or no—and a few soldiers at it would be like me trying to blow away a snowstorm by breathing hard.”

  Besides the high passes leading to Ruferburg, the only one snowed in would be Eagle Pass, which led to the tribal lands. Was the mayor expecting another attack? The last one would have destroyed the town if not for the Eagle’s intervention, but that was over seventy years ago with not a peep of trouble since.

  “Magic is being used again,” Dylan said. “Combat. Battles. What if the whole mess devolves into another wizards’ war with cities being blighted? How can you compare any threat posed by the tribes to that?”

  The mayor tensed. “You don’t know the true history, the true danger. Even thousands of good, innocent people dying pale compared to the evil …” He shook his head. “Something showed up in town a fortnight past that means more trouble than all the mages in existence, and we don’t have an Eagle to stop it this time.”

  Sergeant Pruitt spat. “You’d better tell me more about this ‘evil.’ ”

  The mayor hesitated, clearly worried. “I’ve sent a letter to Duke Asher. Let’s see what his response is.” He wasn’t prone to hysterics or easily frightened. Whatever had him so concerned must be dangerous.

  Dylan shut his eyes. Great. If Dastanar didn’t kill him, the queen might, and if she didn’t, a new threat was queuing up to do the job.

  41.

  Dylan waited outside the apothecary shop.

  He should just go in. Definitely. Better than just standing around. But it wasn’t like he could help, and when Master Rae ran the place, only parents or spouses were allowed to watch him fix someone up.

  Dylan stepped toward the door. Mari would probably feel better if he were there, though. On the other hand, distracting the apothecary at the wrong time might be bad.

  He hesitated.

  Argh!

  Blast it! He was going in.

  As he reached for the handle, Mari opened the door, her eyes red and puffy. She ran to him, and he threw his arms around her. Their bodies molded together, and she sobbed on his shoulder for several minutes before she stopped crying and wiped the tears away.

  “Is Jeffry … uh …”

  “He’ll be okay,” Mari said.

  Dylan let out a relieved breath.

  “I could have lost him,” she said.

  True. And it was all Dylan’s fault. If not for him, her brother would have been safe on the farm, and she’d be in Escon, probably attending balls and dinners and other such nonsense.


  “You should go back to Asherton,” Dylan said. “Even better, go home.”

  She tore herself from his embrace. “You want me to go?”

  “I don’t want you to … Well, I do want you to … I mean, if I had a choice, you’d be safe and with me, but it’s not safe with me.”

  “You don’t want me with you?”

  “That’s not what I said!” he yelled.

  Brant would have handled the conversation so much better. Blast, even Xan would have.

  “That is what you said!”

  “I love you!” Dylan yelled. “I want to be with you. I want to marry you.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed.

  “I don’t want you or your family to be hurt, though, and I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said. “Everything just keeps getting worse. The threat of execution still hangs over my head, and the duke wants us to kill Xan. I keep sensing magic use, meaning he’s alive and not in hiding anymore. Will I have to help hunt him down? He’s my friend. We grew up practically as brothers. Not to mention, he’s a rads-infested wizard, for blast’s sake! And none of that even touches on some new threat the mayor’s worked up about.”

  “Dylan …”

  “With all that coming, I’m focusing on my happiness? A wife? Starting a family? You’re all I can think about. It’s selfish! And I’m putting you in danger … That’s not okay!”

  “Did I ever tell you about my cousin, Eloise?” she said calmly.

  He shook his head.

  “She died when she was just fourteen. Got sick one day. A week later, she was gone.” Mari looked at Dylan expectantly.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There was no magic. No people chasing her. She. Just. Died. The same thing could happen to you or me at any time.” She paused, and her words hung on the air. “If you love me, love me and stop being scared.”

  “Mari … I …”

  “You’re cautious by nature, and that’s okay. In fact, that’s a good trait for a husband. Better than your friends who rush headlong into danger without a second thought. Sometimes, though, you have to risk something to gain something.”

  “But …”

  “But what?” she said.

  He wanted to object, but she was right.

  “Nothing,” he said. “You’re worth the risk. You’re worth risking everything.”

  Her smile lit up her face. Practically lit up the world. “Good answer.” She kissed him.

  “I guess all that’s left is to introduce you to my parents.”

  * * *

  Dylan patted Clover’s neck.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he said. “He’s not usually so skittish.”

  They weren’t far from Dylan’s house, and truthfully, he didn’t begrudge the extra time spent calming the horse.

  “Uh huh,” Mari said.

  “What?”

  “He’s worried because you’re worried.”

  “Why would I be worried?” he said.

  “I’m assuming you’re afraid your parents won’t like me.”

  “Not like you? They’re going to adore you!”

  She shot him a withering look, and he turned away. Did girls get a special class in how to deliver those? Both Mari and Lainey were way too good at it.

  Great.

  “You are beautiful and smart and kind,” he said. “Any parent would be crazy not to want you as a daughter-in-law.”

  “But?”

  He sighed. “My family is … business oriented.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I guess it’s that … you know …” Dylan didn’t understand why the words were so hard to spit out.

  “I’m just a farmer’s daughter.”

  “How can you be so calm about all this?”

  “Dylan, you keep telling me how much you want to be with me, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s the important thing, not what your parents think or my parents think or the duke or the queen.” Mari gestured to a man as they rode past him. “Or that guy walking his dog.”

  “I don’t know,” Dylan said. “That guy walking the dog is pretty influential. If we could get him on our side …”

  She tried to glare at him again but couldn’t hold it. Instead, a wide grin split her face, and both of them ended up laughing. By the time they stabled their horses behind his parents’ house, he felt much better. Once inside, Morris took their cloaks.

  “Where are mother and father?” Dylan said.

  Morris stood stiff and spoke in his usual stilted tone. “They request your presence in the study once you’ve freshened up.”

  Mari frowned but held her tongue until they’d walked out of Morris’ earshot. “You’ve not seen your parents in almost seven weeks, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “They didn’t meet you at the door,” she said.

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “Instead, they have the butler pass along a formal request?”

  “Ready to run away scared, yet?”

  “I told you, Dylan d’Adreci. I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”

  “So you did. And so you are.”

  As frigid as the welcome was, they both appreciated the opportunity to wash off the dirt and grime from the road and change into fresh clothes, and Mari sure seemed relieved to be putting on her best appearance for her first impression with her future in-laws.

  “Ready?” Dylan said, taking her hand.

  She smiled. “Ready.”

  They strode hand in hand into the study. His mom worked a needlepoint while his father took the top paper from a stack on his right, examined it briefly, and signed.

  His father placed the sheet on a small pile to his left. “I’ve studied the contract you drew up for the duke, son. Fine work. Fine work indeed.”

  Dylan nodded.

  “It appears introductions are in order?” his mother said, not looking up from her stitch work.

  “May I present … Marisol Greenfield.”

  “Please call me Mari.”

  Dylan’s mom nodded. His father went back to his papers.

  Okay, then. Chilly but no outright hostility, at least.

  “Marisol,” his mother said after a long pause, “tell me about yourself. What do your parents do?”

  Straight to the point.

  “They’re farmers.”

  “Not just farmers,” Dylan said. “They own the biggest house I’ve seen outside the nobility and many square miles of fields. And their barn! Painted it is.”

  His mother tore out a stitch. “With all this wealth of theirs, have they expanded business interests? Into clothing, perhaps?”

  “My pa says that Greenfields belong to the land, and the land belongs to the Greenfields. Anything else is putting on airs.”

  Pa? Since when did she refer to her father like that. And “putting on airs” and “belong to the land?” Was she trying to make things difficult?

  “I see.” His mother still hadn’t looked up from her needlepoint.

  “Dylan, son, what your mother is trying to say is that, while this girl—”

  “Mari!”

  His father nodded graciously. “Mari seems like a fine young lady, but we were hoping for something … different … for you.”

  So much for no outright hostility. Civil and polite outright hostility granted, but still outright hostility. Well, if that was what they wanted, Dylan could give as well as he got. “I’ve been a dutiful son, meeting and exceeding your expectations at every turn, but this matter is not up for negotiation.”

  His mother finally looked up, and he met her eyes.

  “She is everything I could ever hope for in a wife and more. It is your turn to meet my expectations, and I fully expect for you to welcome Mari into our family.”

  “Dylan Samir d’Adreci, you will not talk to your mother and me like that!”

  “Who’s going to stop me?” Dylan propelled t
he pen from his father’s hand. It anchored itself to half of its length in the wood ceiling.

  His mother eyes went wide, and his father looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

  “Oh, and by the way, I’m a mage.” He paused. “In fact, that’s what I am—a mage. Not a merchant. I couldn’t care less about advancing your business. There’s war coming, for the Holy One’s sake. If the three kingdoms no longer exist a few months from now, who will you sell dye to?”

  “Dylan, son, calm yourself,” his father said.

  “I will not.” He grabbed Mari’s hand. “I’m leaving.”

  As he practically dragged her from the room, she pulled away and turned back to his parents. “One thing I forgot to mention … my father, the farmer, is actually Lord Greenfield, a noble.”

  And they left.

  42.

  Xan tripped.

  Not a good way to enter an inn. He’d wanted to escape notice. Be a nameless, faceless traveler who set no tongues wagging.

  His hands darted out and found the sides of the doorway, only just keeping himself from crashing face first to the floor.

  He looked up, his heart pounding. Yep. Every eye was on him.

  After two days of pushing that blasted heavy cart, he was dead on his feet. Even if he ate a handful of seeds, he’d not be able to take another step. All he wanted was a hot meal and a bed.

  Instead of remaining anonymous, though, his clumsiness had led everyone to notice him. He grimaced. Really, he should just eat, buy a horse, and get back to the ravine where he’d hidden the wagon.

  But a night spent in a real bed sounded so, so good.

  He fingered a bag hanging from his belt. Money wasn’t an issue. The best room in the inn was his for the asking, considering he literally minted his own money. Okay, so the gryphon scrawled on it was shaky at best, but he’d still melted the coin himself and fashioned a crude stamp to etch it. Pretty neat.

  Forget doing the prudent thing. He wanted to sleep in a bed, and he was going to sleep in a bed. A night’s relaxation would do him good.

  After paying for a room, Xan made his way to a table in the back corner of the room and ordered a meal, choosing to drink water since, with his fatigue, even watered-down ale might have sent him right to sleep. He glanced around the room.