Archon's Hope: Book III of 'The Magician's Brother' Series

by HDA Roberts

  "Belle, shush," I said.

  "Alright, alright, no prodding. You and Cathy are doing enough of that for all of us, I'm sure."

  Cathy went beet-red and let out a strangled squeak.

  "Oh, now look what you did," I said, rubbing her back again, which has worked in the past when she's gotten embarrassed enough to lose the ability to speak.

  "Mister Graves? A word, please?" not Hopkins for once. It was Mister Kenilworth, the headmaster.

  He was a tall, thin man with grey hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He wore tweed and brown shoes. He was a good man. A little wishy-washy, a little easy to manipulate, but a good man.

  "Of course, Sir," I said, "see you all later."

  "You bet, Lover-boy," Belle said, which made Cathy squawk again.

  I followed Kenilworth into the Square and through to the West Corridor, which branched off into the Residence, which was a large red brick building containing meeting rooms and most of the school's administration staff.

  "There's a woman here to see you, she's the mother of a couple of your friends, apparently," he said, opening the maroon door to his office.

  There was an attractive woman sitting behind the desk, a very attractive woman, truth be told. She looked no more than twenty-five and had blonde hair, expertly styled into a tight pattern, astonishingly blue eyes, perfect, pale skin and sensuous lips. She wore silk, dark and expensive, along with gold, pearls and diamonds, tasteful and immaculate. She was a very impressive woman, all poise and precision.

  She was also a Magician, a Sorceress and a powerful one. I felt Water Magic.

  And she had a dog with her, big, black and thin, like a wolfhound with smooth fur. It seemed to warp as I looked at it. Whatever that thing was, it was definitely not a dog...

  "Mathew Graves, may I introduce Mrs Arianna Hellstrom?"

  Chapter 5

  Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic...

  "Dear Mister Kenilworth, would you give us a moment?" she said, her voice gentle and soothing.

  The dog yawned, and I thought I smelled sulphur, which immediately sent my heart beating faster than I'd have liked. Sulphur is generally associated with things like Demons (and certain other planar thingies that aren't as scary but I'm erring on the side of paranoia), and I'd had enough of that nonsense to last ten lifetimes, thank you.

  "Of course, Mrs Hellstrom," he said, bowing as he left.

  Hellstrom stood and offered a hand, "Mister Graves, I've been looking forward to meeting you."

  I took it and shook gently. She resumed her seat, waving me at the one next to her.

  "What can I do for you Mrs Hellstrom?" I asked politely.

  "Straight to the point, I like that," she said, picking up a small teacup from a saucer on Kenilworth's desk and taking a delicate sip, "And it's Duchess Hellstrom, actually. Your Grace would be preferable. You attacked my son."

  She said it all in the same even tone. I leaned back in my chair and continued to watch her, giving away nothing as I made sure I had shields ready to go.

  "What, no denials? No protestations?" she said. Her voice was very soft, a little inviting, just a hint of mystery. It didn't fool me for a second.

  "What would be the point?"

  She grinned, setting the cup down, "You assume that I'll automatically believe my children?" she said, "A safe assumption. But why don't you tell me your side anyway?"

  "Do you know that your son's using the Black?" I asked instead.

  She tensed, "That's a serious accusation," she replied, her voice not so friendly anymore.

  "I'm not accusing. I'm telling you that you need to act now. It's already in deep, I can feel it."

  "Say that in public, and I'll call you out, understand?" she said, her voice now low and dangerous.

  "Like mother, like daughter. I'll tell you what I told her. I don't duel. I don't need to," I said, meeting her icy gaze with one of my own.

  "Your arrogance will be the death of you, Graves," she said. I could feel her gathering power.

  "And if you aren't very, very careful, your son will be the death of you. I have no agenda. I don't care about politics or power, I've had more than enough of the former and I have plenty of the latter. No, I care about a stupid kid messing around with the Black and causing pain when he turns."

  The dog looked at me and cocked his head, his ears perking up. The look in his eyes made me think that he understood me, which was a little disconcerting.

  "My son will be the First Shadow, Mister Graves. You will not interfere with that," she said.

  Oh, not good. She thought it was a competition! How does she not know that you either are or you aren't?

  "I feel like we're having two different conversations," I said, trying to pull this back from the brink of disaster, "the Black is dangerous. Ten times as much to Shadowborn. If he uses any more, it's going to become an addiction, and then he'll turn! It's evil, and he's going to end up the same way!"

  She called water out of thin air, razor sharp shards that flew at my throat. I called Will and the shards shattered.

  "Stop, please! I'm only trying to war-"

  Force, lots of same, precise and powerful. My Will bent under the strain, and I had to reinforce the link to keep her from tearing a hole in my shoulder.

  Now, there were a number of ways I could have played this. Dispel, shields, shadows, Force, Light... a few others.

  I decided on the smart approach.

  "Help!" I shouted, "Help, she's gone insane!"

  She immediately stopped, glaring at me like I was something hateful.

  "When my son comes into his power, you're going to die like all the other Shadowborn scum," she said acidly, letting her magic drain away. Neither of us had even left our seats.

  "He's Shadowborn, too," I reminded her.

  "He's better!" she snapped, standing now, her tone desperate, "He's pure blood of the line! You are nothing compared to the likes of him!"

  The door slammed open, and I adopted a fearful expression.

  "Sir, she threatened me," I said in my smallest voice, "she called magic."

  Kenilworth's eyes narrowed.

  "Is this true?" he asked Hellstrom.

  "I don't answer to sheep," she said, turning blazing eyes on my headmaster, and just like that she was gone with a crack of displaced air, the dog, too.

  I sagged and released a held breath.

  "Are you quite alright, Mister Graves?" he asked, his expression concerned.

  "Yes Sir, thank you. You came just in time. Even someone like her would think twice before assaulting a kid in front of witnesses."

  "I think I should call the police," he said after a moment's thought.

  "Call Miss Hopkins first, Sir. From what I gather, the Hellstroms aren't really the sort the police can deal with."

  "Yes, yes," he said, sitting down heavily, "quite right."

  I had to recount what had happened twice, once to Kenilworth and once to Hopkins, neither of whom were happy, but I was sent on my way without expulsion or detention, so I called that a win, even if Hopkins gave me a look that promised a good telling-off later. I rubbed my eyes as I walked out into the square.

  "Did you mean what you said in there?"

  The voice was cultured, aristocratic almost. I turned to see the black dog sitting on its haunches under my favourite oak tree.

  "Every word," I replied, "Mister...?"

  "Grontor," he said, bowing his head.

  "Mathew Graves," I said, matching the bow with one of my own.

  Talking dog, unusual, narrows it down a bit, probably a Fairy creature of some sort. Word of advice, be polite to Fairies. There are very strict rules of etiquette which protect both you and them from misunderstanding and if you break them they take the hump something vicious. That can mean anything from mud coming out of your shower for a month to your genitals suddenly disappearing, depending on who you annoyed. Probably not as much of a problem for a Magician as it would be for a human, there are tr
eaties, but a lot of these creatures are immortal, and even Sorcerers get old and feeble eventually.

  "A polite Sorcerer, how unusual," he said with a doggy grin.

  "My mother always taught me that manners cost nothing, but rudeness can cost you everything. May I sit?" I gestured at the grass across from him.

  "A wise woman, your mother; and by all means."

  I sat facing the creature. Normally I'd use Mage Sight, to discern a little something about his nature, but I was careful not to use any magic here. Fairy creatures object to human magic, it's too different. Human magic is surprisingly scientific, almost impressively Newtonian. It's physics and chemistry, matter, bonds and energy. Fairy Magic is more like the magic you read about in old Fairy Tales, where emotion, belief, purity and intent matter as much as knowledge and skill, even more so sometimes. They are two very different types of power, and neither human or Fairy Mages can completely comprehend the others' abilities. Some human Mage children have been able to use Fairy Magic, but that's because their minds are open and pure. After so much time with Tethys, my mind is so dirty I wouldn't be able to cast a Fairy cantrip (I exaggerate, but you get my point).

  "May I ask if Duchess Hellstrom was aware of your nature? Only she doesn't seem like the type to tolerate different Magics in her midst."

  He snorted, it reminded me of Burglar, "That woman is so blind I could have sprouted wings and started peeing rainbows and she still wouldn't have noticed my power. I'm surprised you did, actually. Very few humans, even Magicians have that sort of sensitivity. It's what allows my kind to make such good observers. Do you know of my people, Magician? Those who watch?"

  "No, I'm sorry. But I don't know too much about the Fairy peoples."

  "I'm not quite of them. My kind are separate, but just as old, and we do work together from time to time. We... watch, observe. We attach ourselves to people of note, people capable of great change, for good or ill. That's why I'm with Hellstrom, distasteful though she is some of the time."

  "My sympathies," I said with a small smile.

  This was quite the revelation. Fairy(-ish) creatures in the form of dogs, watching and observing powerful people, it was certainly interesting. I'd never heard of anything like this before.

  Grontor nodded again, looking me over.

  "I wished to speak to you because you are of the shadows, and yet I sense little darkness inside you, it is perplexing," he said, ruining his aura of mystery by scratching his ear with his back paw, which made me smile, "Tell me, would you stop the Black spreading, if you could?"

  I thought of Cassandra, of the stories she'd told me about the great Black Magicians and what they'd done on their quests for power.

  "Yes. I'd do all I could."

  He nodded again.

  "Why?" he asked, "The Black, as you call it, would welcome you, make you unbelievably powerful. You might even have the strength needed to control it, endure it. Why fight against it?"

  "The power isn't worth the cost," I said with a shiver, suddenly feeling cold, "and I'm already powerful enough to be going on with, thank you."

  He emitted a great barking laugh that startled me, "Apologies, Mister Graves. It's just that I've never heard a Magician say that he didn't want more power. It's... refreshingly unusual. And I think that you'll do nicely."

  "Do? Do for what?"

  "Not my place to say," he said, standing up, "It was nice to meet you, Mathew Graves. I'm sure we'll meet again."

  He vanished before I had a chance to reply, leaving me confused and worried.

  I told Bill and Cathy what had happened, and Cathy bubbled over with questions. She's a bit of a Fairy-nut, and would kill to see a unicorn, but anything of the sort will do. She had dragged Bill and I into the woods on just the feeble rumour of one, something none of us are inclined to repeat; it was a fiasco. Anyway, as soon as I finished telling them about it, they started worrying.

  I had now managed to make enemies of two of the oldest and strongest British Magical Dynasties, the Fausts and the Hellstroms, which wasn't good. The Fausts may be weaker than they'd been in centuries, but Jocelyn had already started rebuilding her family's reputation (not to mention their power base), so there was likely to be trouble from that quarter eventually. The Hellstroms had enormous clout in the Conclave, with allies and contacts in every faction, right up to the Primus himself, according to Tethys.

  And that didn't take into account the Thornes, who weren't as powerful as the Fausts or the Hellstoms, but who had their own alliances, and so were more than strong enough to give me a problem if it ever came to a vote over my future.

  I thought all this through as Bill and Cathy were talking about it, mostly keeping my thoughts to myself. It wasn't long before I felt Cathy's attention on me, and I turned to see her eyes smouldering in a very interesting way.

  "Hello," I said with a smile.

  "Hello," she replied, "want to... come for a walk?"

  "Walk?" Bill said, "Since when do you walk? The last time we walked we had blisters on our blisters... and you don't in any way mean 'walking' do you?"

  Cathy shook her head, her eyes on mine all the while.

  "I think I have some reading to do," Bill said, making a rather rapid departure.

  Cathy took my hand after we'd deposited our trays and led me out to the woods on the far side of the school to the playing fields. It wasn't a forest by any means, just some Pine, Ash, a few Beech trees and a handful of Oaks, the floor was lightly covered in mosses and dying leaves. It was quiet there, with a few birds and some ambitious squirrels that hadn't settled in for winter yet.

  Moria was nearby. Now that I'd recognised her, I often felt her around and about, either in her more spread-out form, which was essentially just a denser pocket of air, or in her more common disguise of a wren. She was a reassuring presence, kind and affectionate.

  Cathy led me deep into the small wood until we fetched up against an old Oak. She wasted exactly no time shoving me up against said tree and pressing her lips and body to mine. My arms went around her, and hers around me, and we sank to the ground, heedless of the damp and mess. She made happy little sounds as we kissed, and I felt all my problems melt away as she held me.

  And, as it turns out, my little Cathy was quite... aggressive. We were taking things slowly by unspoken agreement, but my goodness, was she into it, and going right up to the limit. Not that I'm complaining, not at all. It was just so surprising, and wonderful, and just that little bit naughty, which made it even better...

  It was hours before we realised that we'd missed dinner, more before we cared that we'd missed Chapel. It was only when we started shivering that we gave some thought to heading indoors. I offered to light a fire, but Cathy said it would draw attention. So I offered my hand and helped her up, and we kissed one more time, hungrily, before heading back, hand in hand, Cathy already starting to panic about getting in trouble for missing things.

  That was an amazing week, the best one of my life, to date. Nothing compared to it. Though I must admit that both Cathy and I dropped the ball (big-time) when it came to our school work. We went from top of our classes to mid range almost overnight, doing what amounted to the bare minimum in order to have more time together. The teachers noticed, and I think that they thought we were on drugs or something, and tried to talk to us. We both said we'd try harder and then simply didn't.

  This was doubly strange, as Cathy had a competitive streak a mile wide, and pouted when I beat her at anything, and now she couldn't have cared less if she'd tried. I must say that I quite liked this more carefree outlook of hers, and I think she was happier too.

  Saturday found us, and Bill, under the Oak in the Big Square with our laptops (Cathy had reverted to her spare while her good one was being fixed in Stonebridge). We were playing Starcraft 2, and I was losing badly to a Cathy-Bill axis of Zerg evil.

  I'm fairly certain they were cheating, I was losing that badly.

  "So this is how Shadowborn spend their free ti
me?" Agent Kraab of the S.C.A said from behind me.

  I turned to look at him, and was almost immediately swamped.

  "That is terrible sportsmanship," I said, with a glare at my friends, before standing up to shake hands with the man, "What brings you by, Agent Kraab?"

  Kraab was a Sorcerer, and a damn impressive Battle Mage to boot. He headed the Stonebridge division of the S.C.A., the Supernatural Crimes Authority (Magician police, if you prefer). He was dressed in a charcoal pin-stripe suit with a white shirt and dark tie. He had chiselled features and dark, greying hair. He looked a strong and vital forty, but was centuries older. He'd normally be found in company with his partner, Agent Knowles, but she wasn't with him that day.

  "I have been reduced to the role of messenger boy, and I am rather put out by the whole thing, truth be told," he said, reaching inside his pocket so that he could hand me a thick, cream coloured envelope made from expensive paper and bearing a red wax seal, which had the crossed roses of Thorne's family crest on it (Tethys' information again).

  "You mind if I...?" I asked, indicating the letter.

  "No, go right ahead, I'm supposed to wait for your reply."

  "Can't you tell them to get stuffed?"

  He chuckled, "If only. But they are my boss' boss, and I enjoy employment."

  "But why you?"

  "There was some worry that you'd curse someone you didn't like, what with the current tensions."

  "Tensions?" I asked, snapping off the seal.

  "You didn't know?" Kraab asked, his eyebrow creeping up quizzically.

  I shook my head.

  "They want you brought in for telepathic questioning and a statement of intent," he said, "there's a motion on the Conclave floor right now."

  "You can't be serious? They can't order that without a warrant, and they can't do that without an active criminal investigation."

  "They can try," Kraab said, "and they might succeed, too, which would cause problems because the only Conclave approved telepath in Stonebridge is Knowles, and she's already flat-out refused to carry out the interrogation."

  "So what's this?" I asked, opening the letter.