by D. H. Aire
The warder found Greth between them. Damn.
#
“Mother Shaman.”
“Fri’il,” De’ohr said, sitting down on an intricately carved bench along a side hall guarded by a half dozen Cathartans. “Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand,” she replied, gently bouncing Ri’ori in her arms, “thank you.”
“Very well… Fri’il, you know Vyss is in hiding back home.”
“You told us you had a vision. He couldn’t leave Cathart and fulfill the prophecy.”
“Yes… which is true, I just left a few things out.”
“Such as?”
“None of the members of our Shattered House will ever return to Catha.”
Fri’il nodded. “None?”
“No member of the Shattered House will ever return… and unless the Curse is broken, I fear, our House will spread the Curse the Empire,” De’ohr said and sighed. “I also saw something more… I saw Vyss wielding a black sword.”
“A what?”
De’ohr frowned, “You wouldn’t know where we could find a black sword, would you?”
“What exactly do you mean by… a black sword?”
Canting her head, De’ohr said, “The black sword of our ancestor, Lord Kyrr.”
“Oh… Kyrr’s sword. I’ve seen it on an old tapesty or two back home.”
“You will take that sword to Vyss in Cathart and see to it he fulfills the prophecy.”
“No… I’m going nowhere at your whim. I’ll not leave my daughter.”
“What I ask is not whim. I know how difficult it will be; leaving husband, house, and your babe, but Vyss was your husband once. He will die… and you dedicated years of your life to help us save him. Now you must save him and us all.”
Chapter 21 - Mother Calling
Raven bounded into the cell as Cle’or entered with sword drawn. The prisoner was bound and unconscious in warded chains with two warders facing him on either side. “Any chance he’s feigning this?”
Raven sniffed the prisoner and shook her head.
George entered, his staff glowing as Se’and followed him in. “His brain wave functions show he’s not faking this, either.”
:What did they hit him with? An anvil?: Staff asked. :The healers also did not heal all his injuries, but he’ll live:
“Likely for good reason,” George muttered. “Begin scan.”
:Acknowledged.:
Raven moved to George’s side as a soft beam of light shot from the computer staff’s tip and ran from the top of the bowed head of the prisoner to his feet, then back again.
“That the cloak he was wearing?” George asked.
“Yes, Milord,” one of the warders replied.
The beam shot from the tip of the staff and settled on the cloak. :The scan is being resisted.:
“Increase steri-field strength around it and increase scan level,” he muttered, eyes half closed.
:Implimenting.:
Smoke started to rise off the cloak, only to be trapped in what appeared to be a bubble. The smoke recoiled, focused and struck the protective field, which flared.
:George.:
“Je’orj,” Se’and muttered, having seen its like once before.
“Oh, joy, we’ve a demon,” George said as he drew his discolored dagger and set the blade against the unconscious prisoner’s cheek, which began to blister.
The smoke recoiled as Raven growled.
“Demonic possession…” Se’and muttered.
“Someone’s into very dark magic and in the Demonlord’s employ, no less,” George said.
“FREE… ME,” the prisoner rasped.
“Now, whyever, would I be foolish enough to do that?”
“FREE ME… OR DIE, HUMAN.”
“Is that what the geas demands of you? I thought your task was to kill Lord Hayden?”
The smoke roiled and the prisoner jerked and shouted, “YOU… KNOW… NOTHING.”
“Oh, I’ve been learning a lot,” he replied. “My friends here are rather skilled at wardings and can bind you in ways you will find most… enlightening.”
“YOU CANNOT HURT ME, HUMAN,” it said, forging a stronger link with it host.
Staff flared. “Really?” George said.
The warders each found themselves raising a gloved hand.
“Staff, link… Cle’or, Se’and, get behind me.” They hastily complied as abruptly did Raven, thinking it wise.
:Linking… networking…: stated Staff.
Uh, what’s going on? An adolescent male mind voice asked.
:Rexil, do not concern yourself.: Staff transmitted.
Um, Rexil… Shannon thought.
Hey… another adolescent mind voice rasped.
Oh, my, there’s an up and a down… Um, hi, a femine voice mentally shared.
Hi… that other voice replied.
::System power levels rising ::
::Shield strength increasing.::
::Weapons online.::
What? Shannon said.
What weapons? Rexil wondered.
:Please, do not be alarmed.: Staff said. :However, I suggest you read the manual.:
What manual? They chorused.
George stepped back as the unconscious prisoner trembled and his head jerked back. His eyes opened as the trapped smoke grew dense forming a face. “Archmage Kolter set the geas, I see,” George said.
“NO, I CANNOT BETRAY MY MASTER!”
“But you already have,” George replied.
“NO!”
The prisoner’s body trembled as the trapped cloak writhed like a snake and George stabbed down with his blade and cut what looked to be a black inked rune tattoo at the base of the prisoner’s neck. There was a blinding explosion as the demon lost its link to its elfblooded host.
The trapped smoke above the cloak caught fire and the cloak turned to ash. NOOOOOOOOO…
The elfblood’s body fell limp. Raven went over and sniffed him.
The warders stared.
:And that’s how you deal with demonic possession.:
Acknowledged, the warders heard around them.
“If you’d be so kind as to finish healing this fellow, I have a feeling that he will pose no further threat to anyone… at least, anyone loyal to the Empress.”
“But do not take any chances,” Cle’or said as Se’and waved her hand in front of her face, coughing.
#
“Any of the family around?” Talik asked.
His wife, Fleural, glanced about the gardens. The party and festive mood were rather muted, but the orchestra played on; although, no one danced. Lord Senian and his wife were eating across the way. Gallen, Ander, and Aaprin looked as if they were more on watch than trying to enjoy their honeymoon, as it was.
Talik nodded to Aaprin, who nodded back.
Fleural whispered, “There.”
The Faeryn archmage of Lyai glanced to their left. The elfblooded gentleman in question was dressed as a member of the merchant class, someone of the Lower Imperial Court hierarchy.
Ruke noted their interest and came over, which meant an armed escort of black liveried teenage young ladies, who marched almost in lock-step. “Would you like an introduction?”
“You know the fellow?”
“No,” he lied, “but Master Terhun does. So what interests you in Lord Llewellyn’s spy at Court?”
Talik took his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips, “My beloved, Fleural, tried to kill me last night.”
The Cathartan teens bristled and became very wary. “Down, ladies,” Ruke said, “there was a lot of that going on last night.”
Fleural looked from one to the other, shrugged, “Since I was supposed to marry Senian. Talik wasn’t the one I was supposed to kill.”
“Lucky me,” Talik said.
“Uh, did you use a healing spell?” Ruke asked as Mahr frowned.
“Only on the broken ribs and my nose,” Talik replied. “You can’t even tell, can you?”
Ruke shook his head.
“And on my wrist,” Fleural added.
Ruke nodded, “Isn’t love grand… I heard someone tried to kill Senian last night.”
“Oh,” Fleural said, “but he seems hale enough.”
“Yes, apparently someone killed the assassin, who turned out to be the new palace guard captain.”
“Her Majesty has been going through a lot of palace guardsmen lately,” Talik said as Fleural’s eyes widened, reassessing the adolescent before them.
“How do you know that?” Mahr whispered to Ruke.
“Oh, I hear a lot of things…” he replied.
The liveried young ladies behind Mahr glanced at each other, re-evaluating Ruke yet again.
Ruke said, “You wouldn’t happen to want that fine gentleman to send a message?”
Smiling broadly, Talik said, “Oh, Fleural and I will have a talk with him, soon.”
“One he won’t likely forget,” Fleural said.
“Is she Cathartan?” someone whispered behind Ruke.
“Close enough,” someone else muttered as Mahr glanced back and glared.
“Archmage, please, don’t,” Ruke said. “Let Master Terhun deal with this… not everything is at it always seems.”
Talik frowned, nodding.
#
The Llewellyn spy at Court saw one of his colleagues trying to catch his attention. “My dear, I think it best for us to… take our leave.”
“I am feeling a sudden chill,” she replied, trying to ignore the glances of the Cathartan teens standing near Archmage Talik and his new bride.
Once inside the Great Hall, which had been set up for a theatric performance, they sought the nearest exit only to find their way blocked by a pair of warder mages and an escort of Imperial Legionnaires.
“Milord,” the Legionnaire sergeant said, “Lord Terhun, would like a word or two with you.”
#
A courtesan whispered to the much older man at her side, “I think Llewellyn’s new factor has just lost that new Imperial contract.”
“Terhun is playing games within games.”
The courtesan nodded.
“Ruke also seems to be handling matters rather well.”
“It could have gotten rather awkward,” admitted Harlequin.
Gabriol, Prince of the Thieves Guild, nodded. It had taken time to infiltrate the opposition as a favor to Master Terhun, but they were profiting by it.
Harlequin brushed a hand away from the concealed hilt of the dagger up her sleeve. “I never realized how exciting life at Court could be.”
#
“I hope you don’t mind, but luncheon here is a bit more private than at the reception,” Balfour said.
“Let’s just hope there’s enough room for the unicorn,” Carwina said as she hastily began helping Balfour move furniture.
Me’oh crossed the room and laid Rachiel in the crib. “The buffet smells lovely.”
Lawson closed the door as Greth crouched. “I wouldn’t mind a bowl of caf.”
Carwina blinked, then took a bowl and poured him some. “Too much, um, may make it difficult to sleep.”
Greth grinned, “One or two bowls a day doesn’t seem to keep me too awake.”
“No, a dozen girls, apparently, has on occassion, though,” Lawson said.
“Ha, ha, ha,” the troll replied, “guarding girls afraid to leave camp in the middle of the night with a trowel never seemed to wake you, I recall.”
“Ah, well,” Lawson replied, shrugging.
“Enough, you two are worse than Je’orj and Staff,” Balfour said. “Now, let’s chat about what brought you from the Great Waste to the Capital.”
Casber frowned as Lawson grinned, “Why, we just thought George might be in more trouble than he could handle by now.”
Me’oh shook her head, “I appreciate your rescuing my daughter and her friends and Bal’s nephew here, but somehow I don’t believe that for a second.”
Greth glanced at Lawson. Casber petted the unicorn’s flank, not noticing that the dragon scale wrapped around his arm had loosened or the tendril that crept toward the crystal hanging from the boy’s neck.
“Mother wishes to have a chat with Staff.”
“What?” Balfour and Me’oh chorused.
#
The rock orbiting the world was in actuality an old stealthed satellite, one of several the crashed colonizer launched before making a forced landing. Many of the others had not. They had been destroyed in the ancient war.
It received a burst signal and transmitted back the last signal it had received, then read the message it had received and followed its instructions. For now it watched and waited for the tracking signal on the planet below. Once it was had line of sight directly above the source of that signal again, it would collect the message to be relayed back to the revived central command node.
#
Fri’il breastfed her daughter in their suite, considering the Mother Shaman’s vision and what it would mean. “How can I leave you, little one?”
She had tears in her eyes as Ri’ori suckled.
“If what De’ohr says is true, I cannot let the Curse loose across the Empire as the Shattered begin to seek new lives in this land… and I cannot let our people die.” She lowered her head and kissed the crown of her daughter’s head, her tears loosed. “Je’orj, I can’t even say goodbye…” Knowing if she did, he would stop her.
There was a knock at the door. “Fri’il,” the Mother Shaman said, “it’s time.”
Chapter 22 - Some Wedding Gifts Are Best Returned
“I am not going to miss skipping the rest of the party,” George said as they returned to their suite.
“Does that mean you want to head out immediately?” Se’and asked ever so innocently.
He glanced at her sidelong, “After a, um, suitable farewell to Her Majesty.”
Cle’or shook her head, “In other words, we’ll keep up appearances in the meantime and slip out before anyone’s spies take note.”
Raven suddenly bounded toward the door down the hall and whimpered. Eyes widening, George hurried forward past two Cathartan guards rather than Imperials who should be on duty. Entering the room, he stared at De’ohr and the woman holding a crying Ri’ori in her arms.
“De’ohr… what are you doing here?”
“Why, waiting for you, Lord Je’orj.”
Se’and took Ri’ori and glared at the Mother Shaman as Cle’or asked, “Hen’ya, what are you doing here?”
The dark haired Cathartan shook her head. “I heard Ri’ori needed a milk mother.”
“Where’s Fri’il?” George rasped, Staff flaring as Cle’or checked the bathroom.
De’ohr sighed, “Fri’il is on her way back to Catha.”
“What?” George rasped.
“De’ohr, what have you done?” Se’and shouted.
“I told her the truth… I have foreseen what has begun. Or has Ruke’s coterie of followers escaped your notice?” the Mother Shaman replied. “My House is shattered and as we splinter into little families like your own… we’re going to spread the Curse. Given enough time, there will be fewer and fewer males being born here in the Empire unless Vyss fulfills the prophecy as a Secondson.”
“You told her that and she’s just run off without concern for Ri’ori? I don’t believe it,” George said, his voice quavering, “She wouldn’t… She couldn’t.”
“She can with Kyrr’s black sword,” De’ohr replied.
George sighed, “Then she hasn’t left the city yet.”
“Go after her then… oh, but you have other commitments, don’t you? After all, you have another problem to deal with.”
Se’and glanced at him, “We have to go north.”
Shaking his head, George replied, “No, family first... We’ve another option that can buy us some time.”
#
The palace’s main gate portcullis was secured and barred, guarding by Imperial Legionnaires.
A crowd of wedding guests was gathered watching from within the grounds as festival revelers stared from the Second Tier side, wondering what was going on. Cathartans were serving as additional security along the walls, which opened the way for Fri’il to scale the wall unofficially observed from the eastern side and reach the top. When she glanced down, a number of battle steeds were gathered below, including her own mare, who looked up at her and nodded.
She smiled appreciatively, then dropped onto their backs and edged over to her mount’s back. The group of steeds turned with her mare and moved as quickly as they could downTier.
#
“Aaprin and Gallen,” George said, Raven padding along at his side and Cle’or marching as escort, “just whom I need to see.”
“Milord?” Aaprin said as Andre stood guard behind them after their having been quietly summoned by a herald for an audience with the Highmage in one of the conference rooms off the Great Hall.
“Cle’or, what do you think?” George said.
“It could work, if I accompany them… It’s Raven that I’m worried about,” she replied, giving Gallen an appraising look.
Gallen glanced from the Highmage to Aaprin, “Uh, why do I get the impression I’m not going to like whatever you two are planning?”
:Because you are not,: Staff said.
#
The dwarves at the gate stepped aside as Fri’il and the battle steed arrived through the parting throngs enjoying the festival. Once safely in the courtyard, she dismounted and headed past the black liveried Cathartan guards. “Lady, is everything all right?” the senior woman in charge asked.
“Fine, I just came to gather a few things.” And the spare sword from the attic that I have had trouble remembering exists.
#
The Empress frowned, “Se’and, where’s Je’orj?”
“He asked me to speak with you… we’ve little time, Your Majesty.”
Lonny shook her head, “What’s wrong, Se’and?”
“Fri’il’s… gone.”
“What?” the Empress said.
“Mother Shaman De’ohr’s told Fri’il that only she can save my brother… so that he can break my people’s curse.”
Shaking her head, the Empress said, “I’m sorry, but Je’orj must go north… Fri’il is a grown woman, after all.”