Primal's Wrath: Book VI of 'The Magician's Brother' Series

by HDA Roberts

  Adriata’s lips tightened and she cleared her throat.

  “A fair point,” she said grudgingly. “Put forward as if by an upright baboon and poorly articulated. But a fair point.”

  I frowned, "You can't be civil for more than ten seconds at a stretch, can you?"

  "Why would I? You're only a barbarian," Adriata replied with a small smile, something of her old fire coming back into her expression.

  Kron sighed and shook her head. "That was all useful information, but why does it make him a threat now? Lord Shadow broke his power at Camelot, along with Camelot itself. The High Prime in Unseelie was destroyed. What’s left?"

  Adriata rolled her eyes. "What marked Myrddin out wasn't his skill as a Magician, though that was always prodigious, it was his skill as a politician. In his day, he had alliances everywhere; Magicians, creatures of light and darkness, demons, lower angels... he had his fingers into everything. The only way we came close to winning was by expending vast resources distracting and bribing those allies. Why do you think you two never even heard about the Siege of Camelot?”

  Kron blinked hard at that revelation. Killian’s mouth actually dropped open. Even I was impressed. Myrddin was a master of the long term strategy, sure, but apparently Adriata was no slouch either!

  “My point is that Ambrosias is the ultimate networker. If we hadn't moved very carefully, and prepared perfectly, he would have crushed us, even with my entire Realm set against him.”

  She turned to look at me in particular.

  "He will be moving against you now. He'll be placing his pieces, assembling his allies, and he'll come at you sideways, where you least expect it; at that which is most precious to you. And never, never doubt that because he is diminished in personal power that he is not a threat. He still has all his knowledge, all his charisma and skill at manipulation. He will find a way around his setbacks and, unless you are very careful, he’ll reclaim that cursed Dagger, he’ll pick up where he left off and then we’re all dead.”

  There was a long, tense silence after that pronouncement.

  "It's not like we disagree with you,” Killian said, “and the second we find him, he'll be going in the slammer, believe me. It's just that we can't find the bastard, and we've looked!"

  "He's shielded from Scrying, Time Magic, basic Mage Sight... he's had a long time to learn how to hide, and he's very good at it," Kron added.

  "Then you will all have to start preparing, because when he finally strikes, and strike he will, there may not be enough of you left to stop him from getting what he wants,” Adriata said.

  "He won't get that dagger back. I have it very well guarded," I offered.

  "That won’t be the only trick he has up his sleeves. You have to be ready," Elora said. “And I would also prepare for the fact that he will have suborned others to his cause. People that will make it hard to get at him without courting disaster. That’s his speciality.”

  Kron looked a bit worried for a moment, but she nodded.

  "Anything else?" Kron asked. I think she was just hoping that there was no more bad news.

  "Resumption of trade," Elora said. "Using the last set of terms, if possible."

  I stifled a groan, because Kron's eyes had lit up, all tiredness gone in a flash. That meant negotiations were in the offing, I knew the look. You wouldn’t believe what I’d had to go through the one and only time I agreed to play Monopoly with that woman...

  I did my best to stay awake, but I didn't have any Pixies to play with this time (Miss Jenkins had just finished making a new batch of their favourite pudding, and they were still in food comas). It took two hours for them to decide that they would essentially just use the same old damn trading agreements. Two hours I could have spent doing anything else.

  "Good," Adriata said once the final handshakes had been exchanged. "Now, there is just one further item to discuss."

  The tone in her voice made me want to leg it. I just knew this wasn't going to end well for me...

  "Our daughters intend to disgrace both our hou-"

  Elora coughed loudly, earning her a glare.

  "Oh fine. Our beloved children have decided to forge a new destiny together and intend to undertake an errantry as... partners," that last word spat even harder than ‘Magicians’ had been.

  Evelina and Gwendolyn smiled happily, looking over at each other, their eyes dancing with excitement.

  "For the humans at the table, an errantry sends a Sidhe out into the three worlds, to explore and learn who they are before undertaking their duties to their kingdoms. This is supposed to be a solo undertaking, but naturally these two are so ridiculously intermingled in each other’s idioc-“

  Another pointed cough, which just made the glare worse.

  "Fine!" Adriata snapped, which made the girls smile wider. "Generally, a Sidhe Noble takes a small property and runs it for their own maintenance while searching out opportunities and experiences in the wider worlds. Because neither of our Houses can agree to a place in either of our realms, we’ve compromised in a way that makes everyone equally miserable, and agreed that their errantry should be based from a neutral location. A place in neither of our realms, but which would allow them to visit either of their families whenever they wished. It's going to be with-"

  Another not so subtle clearance of Elora's throat; I could hear Adriata's teeth grinding.

  "If it would be permissible,” she growled, “I would like that home to be here, under the protection of someone clearly willing to do stupid things to keep my daughter safe."

  Adriata turned to glower at me, while Elora, Gwendolyn and Evelina stared.

  See? Complications; every time I come to one of these things...

  Well, it wasn’t as if there was any version of me that would have turned them away. I considered those two girls parts of my extended family, after all. And besides which...

  "They already have an open invitation to make a home anywhere I hold dominion," I said. "And if they want to live with me-"

  "Don't be ridiculous, they'll be living with me most of the ti- stop that infernal coughing, I'm shutting up!" Adriata said, subsiding into what looked distinctly like a pout after Elora broke her flow again.

  "If you want to live—or stay—here, or at Blackhold, you are both more than welcome, always welcome."

  The pair beamed at me, even Evelina's smile wasn't as sarcastic as usual.

  "We will make arrangements," Adriata said, still looking thoroughly put out about just about everything.

  And that's how I ended up with two former fiancés living with me.

  I could practically hear Tethys laughing at me already.

  Having said that, bearing in mind Tethys' own preferences for pretty young women, I couldn't imagine she'd be laughing for long before she simply started drooling like a hungry wolf coming upon a plate of freshly cut t-bones.

  Chapter 41

  After the conference, and all its dreadful revelations, I’ll admit that I felt a little nervous as the days went by and there was still no sign of Myrddin. It was like my world was taking the deep breath it needed to really start screaming at me, and that was not a pleasant feeling.

  I might well have brooded myself into quite a state if I didn’t have the distraction of two Princesses making arrangements to move into my house. They were like little whirlwinds, measuring this and jumping on that, poking their pretty noses into everything from the linen cupboard to the pantry.

  From what little I could gather, they were preparing to move two small palaces-worth of stuff into rooms that couldn't possibly hold even a fraction of it. I decided, as was only sensible, to have as little to do with the process as possible and delegated the whole thing to the butler (who I then had to give a raise. The poor bastard looked like he’d aged a decade in just those few days as the Princesses drove him half way round the bend).

  Eventually, though, they left again, promising that they’d be back to stay in about a week, but girls and packing... it could
be a year or two before I saw them again.

  It was great to have them around; they made me laugh and took my mind off my worries in the best possible way. Alas, though, they could never completely banish the shadow Myrddin was casting over my life. Even before the Queens’ warning, I’d known that he’d eventually return with a plan to put him back on top, and I’d known it would be clever.

  But in all my worst-case scenarios, I hadn’t suspected just how clever, or how ruthless, he would be.

  It started with a summons.

  I'd just finished my first class of a new week, a few days after the conference. I was wandering around campus in search of lunch when a pair of men in dark suits approached me. They looked relatively young and well proportioned, their toned figures badly concealed by their clothes. They were otherwise completely nondescript, average looks, dark eyes, dark hair.

  Cassandra was immediately on-edge, but neither of them made a threatening move, so she didn't reach for a weapon.

  One was a bit taller and slightly older than the other, with a sprinkling of grey at his temples. He moved a little closer.

  "Lord Graves,” he said with a short bow, “I am here on behalf of the Conclave. An urgent matter has come up; I'm to escort you to the Foreign Affairs Sub-council, if you would be willing?"

  Keeping his movements slow and smooth, so as not to spook Cassandra (sensible of him), he pulled a thick, cream-coloured envelope from his jacket and handed it to me.

  My name was on the front in beautiful calligraphy and there was a broad seal on the back. I checked it, running my Magical senses over it. The Seal of the Conclave was a pair of crossed staves behind a castle, the words 'A tenebris ad lucem' written in scrollwork below (which means 'from darkness to light', by the way—very Shadowborn-friendly). The impression could be faked, but not the Magical signature behind it. I'd been taught to recognise it, in case anyone should try to pull a fast one. It was genuine.

  I broke the seal and read the note, which was essentially just what the man had said: Please come to Conclave as soon as possible to consult on a matter of greatest import. It also mentioned matters of security and lives on the line in very vague terms. I figured that I'd better go.

  "I can Portal us there," I said, handing the letter to Cassandra, who also checked its authenticity, just to be on the safe side (nobody was taking chances these days).

  "We have a car, Sir, it will get us through security faster that way, time is of the essence."

  I would have argued; after all, what could be faster than a Portal? But if time really was of the essence, then I'd be better off just going along rather than talking about it.

  More fool me...

  There was a black Mercedes parked just outside the campus gates, a driver behind the wheel. One of the men with us got in the front while Cassandra and I squeezed into the back seat with the other. As soon as the doors were shut, we were driven off... straight into lunchtime traffic.

  By the time we were done getting through the press of cars, I may as well have walked, but that was hardly my problem, so I just yawned and dozed while I waited.

  The Conclave Building was seven hundred years old, tall and elegant, a masterpiece of Gothic architecture, but still comfortable and cosy within, at least in the working areas; the Grand Chamber was quite intimidating if you weren't used to it, but that was the idea. The exterior (which I rarely saw, thanks to Portals and Shadow-Gates) was a facade of arches, rose windows and flying buttresses, making it look almost like a cream-coloured hybrid of Notre Dame and the Palace of Westminster, if someone had squashed them together and bent them into a cylinder.

  When a building was as old and venerable as this, steeped in so much history and thrumming with purpose, one wouldn’t think that it would have much in the way of underground parking, and yet the Conclave Building did, and quite an ample supply, too. We slid down a ramp lined with trees, through a wide archway that tapered to a point, and into a chamber that looked far more like a church than a garage, with arches and statuary everywhere, features that didn't blend very well with the neon-yellow paint which marked out the parking spaces. The lines had been sprayed onto perfectly fitted flagstones and looked vaguely sacrilegious, if you asked me.

  We parked next to a lift (another modern addition, not that I was complaining, it wasn't like I loved stairs), and we got out. The Conclave men were moving with more urgency now, looking around as if for threats.

  The lift took us up a floor, and the men hustled us along a set of winding corridors until we arrived at a pair of wooden doors close to the core of the building, near the Conclave chamber.

  "If you'll wait just a moment, my Lord?" said one of our escorts.

  I nodded and he darted through the doors. He wasn't gone long before coming out again.

  "You can go in now, but I'm afraid that your Warden will have to wait here, my Lord. This summons concerns a matter of some... delicacy," the man said.

  I looked to Cassandra, who shrugged and finally nodded, taking up a position opposite the door with her arms crossed. To someone who didn’t know her, she would look relaxed, but I noted that she was standing with her hands near to the grips of her pistols. Her warning was clear: something's fishy.

  I agreed. We hadn't seen a single person on the way here except for security blocking the feeding corridors. I began to grow a little worried.

  The two men who'd fetched us opened the doors for me and then shut them behind me with a very heavy thud. I felt Enchantments snap on as the two pieces of wood made contact. Nothing too enthralling, just basic Muffling Enchantments that would prevent sound from leaving the room, and a simple Telepathic disruptor to prevent remote bugging of someone's brain.

  The room was semi-circular, panelled in wood, with a raised arc of conjoined wooden desks in front of the curved wall. A small podium stood in front and below them. The room was dimly lit, with most of the light projected down at the small podium and the seven men and women at the desks.

  I didn't recognise any of them, but a cast of Mage Sight told me that they were all Magicians, two women, five men, ranging from mid-range Wizards all the way up to a high-end Sorcerer; he was the one in the middle. They all looked to be older, late fifties to late sixties, which likely put them in their second or even third centuries, fifth or sixth for the Sorcerer. They were dressed in dark suits under the robes of Practicing Magicians. The medals on their hoods were quite the collection of Affinities, specialisations and qualifications. It made me think about updating my own, but when you’re wearing an Archon’s white hood, there wasn’t really much point in slapping anything else on there, I’d just end up looking like a braggart.

  As I made my way further in, I noticed that the Sub-council weren’t the only Magicians in the room, there were also four other Sorcerers, dressed as security, standing at the back, in the gloom.

  They were standing just like Cassandra had been a moment ago; trying too hard to look relaxed.

  Something really smelt funny now.

  I approached the dim circle of light around the wooden podium. There was a truth stone waiting there, perched on a red velvet pillow.

  "Welcome, Lord Graves,” said the Sorcerer. He had grey hair, thinning at the crown and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were dark and intelligent, and there was a certain expression on his face, like he was trying to hold in a laugh and not a pleasant laugh either; a nasty one. The look rather reminded me of an angry clown. "We're sorry to have dragged you in here on such short notice, but it's rather urgent. Would you be so kind as to take the podium?"

  I did as I was told.

  "My name is Lucas Haughter, I'm the Councillor in charge of Foreign Affairs, and I'm sorry to burden you with this nonsense, but there have been some complaints made against you. I'm sure that it's all been blown out of proportion, and we can have all this sorted out in an hour or so, if you'll forgive the intrusion?"

  Well, maybe my first impression was a bit pessimistic. The fellow actually seemed quite pol
ite and even reasonable. It wasn’t exactly the urgent problem it had been made out to be, nor did there appear to be lives on the line, but political types thought differently. Maybe this is what life-and-death looked like to them?

  "Of course, anything I can do to help,” I said.

  "Splendid! The first issue regards your recent trip to Africa, the Sahara, I believe?"

  I nodded.

  "Ah, yes, I have the report here. It says that you engaged and murdered an African Magician-"

  "What?! No, I most certainly did not!" I protested, "Firstly, if we’re talking about the first man I met, he engaged me, not the other way around, and I certainly didn’t kill him, the parasite did."

  That was the fellow I assumed he was talking about, anyway. Nobody else had died in my presence, after all.

  "Parasite?" Haughter frowned, picking up a sheet of paper. "This report states that there was no trace of anything like that anywhere near the site. Further, the autopsy report says that he died from complete Mental and Metaphysical implosion, resulting in massive internal haemorrhaging. And your Magical signature was found on the body."

  "My Magic removed all the organisms in the area, the bodies included. Surely your Scryers were able to determine that?"

  "The local investigators were unable to determine anything of the sort. All we know is that your Magical signature was found on a number of bodies. That leads to some rather ugly conclusions, I'm afraid, Lord Graves, and the African Triumvirate is baying for blood. You did kill a number of their citizens, after all."

  "No I didn't! They were already dead when I arrived," I said, now thoroughly perplexed.