Well Armed Brides: A Novel of the Highmage's Plight (Highmage’s Plight Series Book 5)

by D. H. Aire

  “Uh, I’m not the only one here for insubordination.”

  The sergeant handed him the key, “Somehow, I think Lord Sianhiel’s orders include them, too.”

  #

  The shaft was wide and the lift obscured the depths of the cavern that led to Bastian at the base of the Imperial cliff.

  The Major’s return, riding double on the the tallest horse any of them had ever seen, proved rather unwelcome to the newly raised captain in charge. The Major saw him blanch. “Load supplies for the drop!”

  The captain drew his sword.

  The unfamiliar gray haired sergeant drew his bane sword. “By order of the Empress, you will obey the Major’s lawful order… You, captain, will drop the sword and come with me to explain yourself to the Marshall General.”

  “The who?” the captain asked. “There hasn’t been a Marshall General in centuries.”

  The major dismounted, “We’ve finally received reinforcements and a new commander, who no one will gainsay, to boot. Oh, the Highmage is here as well.”

  Other members of his senior, officially insubordinate, staff dismounted from the animals they had commandeered.

  The captain’s face went ashen, which is when the Major knew… just knew. He punched the captain in the jaw and the man crumbled. “I’ve got to go home… Sergeant, I need an escort to serve as witnesses. You, men, I want that lift stacked high and sent down yesterday, and send a message under my seal that we’re under new management.”

  The veteran sergeant offered his arm, “Sir. You three, accompany the Major!”

  #

  In the officers’ mess, Sianhiel shook his head. “You call yourselves Imperial officers?”

  “Sir, we had our orders,” one of the immaculately groomed senior officers in the Officers’ Mess stated as the last of the scantily clad waitstaff headed out the back door past the official staff.

  “Truth,” his newly arrived companion muttered as a cowled, black robed, mage stood like a bodyguard behind him.

  The officers frowned hearing that.

  “So, you felt it appropriate to just strand our people down there; neglect to provide reinforcements or supplies?”

  “du Blain murdered all our troops in the Northlands.”

  Truthsayer shook, then said, “Falsehood. Falsehood.”

  Sianhiel turned to stare at him.

  Truthsayer shrugged, “Don’t ask me what it means.”

  The surrounded officers stared.

  “You. That your reason, too?”

  The senior officer swallowed. “Yessir.”

  “Lie.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  The prisoners looked at each other.

  “Yes, I’m a truthsayer,” the man said, “and I’ve apparently been appointed the Empress’s ambassador to Fenn du Blain. Now, have you, sir,” he asked, “committed treason?”

  “No.”

  “Lie.”

  The prisoners went pale. The black robed and cowled figure pointed and the elfblood officer choked, “What did he do?”

  “Cut you off from accessing your magery,” Sianhiel said.

  “Truth.”

  #

  As they prepared to shift the supply filled lift into position above the cavernous brick surrounded hole, one of the graying veteran Legionnaires rode up with a message addressed to Bastian’s Commander.

  “Hold up!” their senior officer shouted.

  The Legionnaire handed over the warded message cylinder and placed it into a chest marked with the legion’s insignia.

  “Let’s get this positioned for the drop.”

  Moments later they cut the ropes to the pulleys. The lift hung there a moment, then lowered into the depths, then vanished with a flash of light. The veteran muttered, “I’m so looking forward to riding that again after all these years.”

  #

  The warder returned to the Highmage’s party as their Legionnaires manned the Citadel’s walls. Rexil reported, ‘Highmage, three officers have confessed to treason… five to criminal acts. All of them have admitted to rape. Plus, most have been blackmailed for indiscretions and rather large gambling debts. Apparently, spying and blackmailing each other is something of a game among the General’s staff.’

  Aaprin grimaced and sent back, ‘Graymantel should rot in the Empress’s dungeons for his part in this.’

  ‘Lord Sianhiel asks that the elfbloods all be taken to legion stables and left to the steeds to deal with.’

  ‘And the others?’ Cl’eor asked, her anklet aglow.

  ‘The stockade for now,’ Shannon answered.

  Gallen glanced at Aaprin. “He’s the Marshall General. The Empress will not gainsay his justice.” She then turned and gave Aaprin a brief hug, who appeared like the Highmage clutching his staff close.

  Ander looked downcast, “It’s not going to be any easier dealing with Bastian.”

  “Our, uh, friend will be here soon enough. He’ll deal with that,” Aaprin said, hoping it was true.

  “In the meantime, we’ve a job to do,” Gallen said.

  The warder nodded.

  #

  Bastian was a living hell. Crowded with refugees fleeing Fenn du Blain’s ravages of what had been the Kingdom of Gwire, low on food and supplies. Their healers were dropping from exhaustion.

  Captain Duff stared at the besieging force. Arrayed were dozens of siege engines. Another ballista loosed. The stone it threw arced and dropped toward Bastian, where it met the ancient wards, which flared. The stone pulverized, dust and small rock slid down the curved ward, leaving a trail of orange sparks. Another ballista loosed. The captain briefly shut his eyes. When those sparks were red, the wards were close to failing. Then the fun would really begin.

  “Sir! Supplies just came through.”

  “What?”

  “Two messages for you, Sir. One from Major Maylik, the other… not sure whose seal this is.”

  The captain frowned, taking the cylinder. “Got me.” He popped open Maylik’s, read what simply said, “Duff, There’s been a change in management topside. Help’s on the way.”

  Shaking his head he opened the other and read, eyes widening.

  “Sir?”

  “Well, now I know whose sigil this is… General Graymantel’s been arrested for dereliction of duty and on charges of treason.”

  “That’s nice. Perhaps they’ll let us throw him over the wall, so du Blain can have fun with him.”

  The messages turned to ash. Captain Duff shook his head, “No, apparently something else is afoot.”

  The wards rippled red.

  “Then they’d best send us a lot of mages because the wards are not looking well.”

  Duff nodded, “We need to unload and send up all the injured and children we possibly can.”

  #

  The warder mage had gone exploring and was drawn to the hole to Bastian, where the Legionnaires were working feverishly gathering up supplies to send down. “Rexil, do you feel that?” Shannon asked as her companion floated beside her through the mist as they peered into the hole’s depths.

  “You mean that the tunnel isn’t one?” he asked.

  “It’s like the tapestry in the Academy’s Great Hall was. It’s an entrance to an Underhill realm,” Shannon said.

  “Which means we may be able to manipulate it… with a bit of help.” He edged toward the comm unit. “Aaprin, Gallen!”

  #

  “You’re certain?” Lord Sianhiel asked after the Highmage endorsed the warder’s idea.

  “It’ll work,” Rexil answered, “we just need to link from this side to the Highmage and Staff… and a training cadre.”

  “Highmage, I can’t allow you to leave the Empire,” Sianhiel said as Cle’or and Andre looked on.

  “I thought Bastian’s officially part of the Empire,” Aaprin replied. “So, you won’t have to explain that to Her Majesty.”

  The warder said, “If there were anyone else I could link to… but I’m
the only warder here and the… Highmage and Staff… are the closest thing to another warder there is.”

  Aaprin met Gallen’s gaze.

  She nodded.

  Sianhiel shook his head, “I’ll look into finding the resources we’re going to need to pull this off.”

  #

  “Major Maylik, you all right?” the captain asked.

  “I am now,” he replied. “My recent successor isn’t doing so well anymore, though.”

  The captain frowned, “Your family…”

  “Graymantel upgraded the bastard’s accommodations… They didn’t get away in time.”

  “Oh… They all right?”

  “Now that I’m back they are.”

  “Yessir.”

  Maylik smiled grimly, “Report on our status.”

  “Lift’s back on its way up.”

  The captain saw Legionnaires coming to attention as carts from the infirmary began arriving. “Sir, it’s the Highmage.”

  #

  The Highmage leaned on his glowing staff and peered over the edge. The staff flared, the darkness rippled and the lift was suddenly there.

  Major Maylik yelled orders and his Legionnaires helped the children step down and began evacuating the injured on their pallets.

  The Highmage turned, “Sorry, if I rushed that.”

  “It’s never done that before,” Maylik said.

  “Expect new orders from Lord Sianhiel,” the Highmage said as he returned to his battle steed, his Cathartan companion holding the reins for him.

  #

  Truthsayer frowned as his steed started to follow the shackled prisoners to the stockade. He hurried after the black steed, “Now what are you up to?”

  Grendelsteed looked at him with a gaze that seethed with anger and… remorse.

  Truthsayer shook his head, “Don’t look at me like that.”

  The steed turned and plodded after the former officers. Truthsayer ran after him, “You, of all people, are not judge and jury.”

  Glancing back at him, the steed shook his head, then made him run faster to keep up.

  #

  “Hey, you can’t bring that horse in here!”

  Truthsayer fought to catch his breath. “You try to stop him, then.”

  The jailer tried. The steed barreled him aside and slammed into the warded bars, which gave way and crumbled. “That’s… that’s not possible!”

  “Falsehood,” Truthsayer muttered, helping him to his feet. “You and I had best stay here. Am I right in assuming that your former general only promoted elfblood officers to his senior staff?”

  The jailer frowned, “That’s the way it is here. The best a human can do is make sergeant… and until recently housing elfbloods like them here? Well, it never happened.”

  #

  Graymantel paced his cell, calling down the row to his senior staff, “When the Empress learns of this, she’ll strip her neophyte Marshall General and set this to rights!”

  The others didn’t answer, just glared at each other.

  At the sound of hooves, Graymantel tried to peer through the bars. He stared up at the black horse and muttered, “This Marshall General is arresting horses for treason now.”

  It paused in front of his cell, pressing up against it. The stallion’s eyes watered. The bars bent and the former general edged back in astonishment.

  Chapter 36 - Marginal Lives

  Graymantel cried, “He bit me! Get away from me! Ow… stop.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “There’s a warhorse… I think it’s somehow broke through the wards.”

  Sounds of a horse kicking could me heard, then nothing more from Graymantel. Soon they saw the huge black horse themselves, and their screaming echoed.

  #

  The jailer tried to run down the corridor. No sooner had he reached where the bars were broken than he found himself trapped, unable to move.

  The screams brought other Legionnaire jailers who paused and stared.

  Truthsayer held up his hands, “This isn’t my doing.”

  “What’s going on?”

  The jailer mumbled something.

  “What did you say?” a sergeant asked leaning closer, only to hear the fellow mumble again.

  Everyone looked at him. Shrugging, Truthsayer replied, “I think he’s trying to tell you that there’s this really big black horse meting out justice back there.”

  “Really?”

  They drew their swords.

  “I’d put those down,” Marshall General Sianhiel said, “Or you’ll spend the rest of your lives in the Empress’s dungeons.”

  The presence of his personal guard settled the matter as the former senior officers screamed about a demon in their midst.

  Sianhiel looked to Truthsayer, who merely said, “Close enough.”

  #

  Grendelsteed was much calmer as he accompanied the Marshall General, who was careful to keep outside of nipping distance from the steed, and Truthsayer. “The Highmage and the warder have a plan, which I cannot say I’m really comfortable with.”

  The steed snorted.

  Truthsayer smiled, “Truth… So, I take it we’re going to do something foolish.”

  “Very, which is why I’m taking a lot of Legionnaires… all veterans,” Sianhiel said. “I fear we’re going to need them.”

  #

  Word passed through the Margins like a wildfire. Graymantel was no longer in charge. His successor, a man riding a very large warhorse and what had started as a hundred and twenty Legionnaires and was now down to ninety came back down the Aqwaine Road.

  Women watched from windows and balconies, some holding babes in their arms, others dressed provocatively.

  “Veterans,” one young woman said, peering from behind curtains. “He’s sent men out to their old haunts.”

  Sitting in a once plush chair, the Dowager leaned back. She held her white wooden cane across her lap, ignoring the cup of tea beside her on the side table. She glanced at her guests. “Graymantel’s left us alone… Lord Sianhiel is one of the Empress’s darlings; I’ll grant you a scrupulously honest one.”

  “The Empress is not like her mother,” the mage said

  “No, Talik, I dare say, she would never have married a human,” she chuckled.

  “Milady, as to our, uh, proposal.”

  “If it were anyone else but you as Faeryn’s heir, arriving in an Imperial coach with such lovely, unusually tall horses, I doubt I would believe this was Her Majesty’s idea, at all.”

  Talik glanced at his wife, smiling, “I know it’s rather unusual, but we’ve worked together for a very long time.”

  The Dowager sipped some more tea.

  “Who actually proposed this?”

  “The Empress.”

  “Truly? Not that spy of hers?”

  “Master Terhun may have made a suggestion or two.”

  The Dowager nodded, “You ask a great deal of one poor woman long in exile.”

  “We were told to tell you that the Empire needs all the help it can get,” Fleural admitted.

  “So says someone I am told is a trained assassin,” the Dowager said.

  “Better to protect my new husband,” Fleural replied.

  “Talik, I hope you know what you have done.”

  “Milady, we’re well and truly bound,” he answered.

  Nodding, she turned to her young companion at the window. “Send word to our friends. All debts are due.”

  #

  “Well, I never thought to see you again,” the woman with a knife in her hand said. “It’s a little early to open the bar.” She gestured behind him and her two bullyboys closed and locked the door. “Enri, you really should have brought some friends.”

  He grinned, “Now, Stellara, don’t be like that.”

  “Don’t, ‘now, Stellara,’ me, Enri. The days your sweet words swayed me ended when you retired and took that young thing with you.”

  “She’s a fine girl, who dese
rves better than me and better than living another day in this hell hole.”

  “And, I’m not?”

  “No, which is why I liked our time together so much.”

  “I bore you three kids, you bastard!”

  He shook his head, knowing he had sired none ever, but that didn’t matter. He had a job to do. “The boys aren’t around, are they?”

  “No…”

  “They’re in a gang, aren’t they?”

  She glared. “Of course, they are.”

  A little girl peered from the door to the kitchen.

  He frowned.

  “That’s our granddaughter. Saerana, what did I tell you?” she shouted, “keep out of sight and clean that floor!” With a squeal, the girl ducked back. “Our little girl had a boy problem, which has gone away permanently…”

  “Where is she?” realizing the dark haired girl looked nothing like her “grandmother.”

  “She died in childbirth,” she replied, her gaze suggesting that was only part of it. “I keep the little minx close. She’s at that age to become a problem. The boys have been sniffing around her.”

  He nodded, knowing the girl could be no more then eight, wondering who this child really was.

  “I’ve an offer for the boys and their friends… and our, uh, granddaughter.”

  She frowned, “What kind of offer?”

  “Saerana likely needs weapons training if you intend to leave her this place one day.”

  “Training? They brought you back as a Master Sergeant?”

  He drew his bane sword, which had the advantage of making the bullyboys shy back. “Training cadre.”

  “The Legion doesn’t accept girls.”

  “The Empress has had a change of view on a, uh, number of issues.”

  “I can see why you’d be interested in the boys and their gang friends… But the Legion taking children?”

  “Funny thing, we all know kids grow up fast here and having lost so many Legionnaires, the Marshall General’s willing to try training, uh, much younger recruits.”

  “He wants kids?”

  “We’ll teach them to read and write,” he said, thinking they would need all the underpriests from the Citadel’s Temple of Knowledge.

  “Read and write,” she muttered, glancing back at the kitchen, barely literate herself. “You are serious.”

  “Very… but it’s not going to be easy for her.”