Bloodmage

by Stephen Aryan

  “The stuffy formalities will come later, but I thought we should meet first and talk,” she said before pointedly glancing at Talandra’s guards.

  “Thank you, both.”

  They took the hint and stepped outside, firmly closing the doors.

  “How was your journey?” asked Morganse, taking a seat and gesturing for Talandra to sit down opposite. Talandra waited until Morganse was settled before sitting down.

  “Long and tiring, your Majesty,” said Talandra, which technically was true. It had meant a few nights sleeping outdoors in a tent.

  “Formalities and rituals weigh on me after a while. Please, call me Morganse in private.”

  “I’d like that, Morganse,” said Talandra with a smile.

  “I remember that journey from Seveldrom to Yerskania. I did it when I was a girl. My father took me with him all the way to Charas as part of a trade delegation. This was almost forty years ago, before you were born. I think your mother was pregnant at the time.”

  “Did you meet her?” asked Talandra, trying to dislodge the catch in her throat.

  “Briefly,” said Morganse, staring off into the distance. “She left quite an impression. She was beautiful and very kind. You look a lot like her. So how many weeks along are you?”

  Talandra thought about denying it but changed her mind.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Morganse’s laugh was a rich sound that filled the room with warmth. “Not at all, but after four children and a few grandchildren, I know all the signs. I’ll leave you to your rest in a minute, but I wanted to talk to you briefly about a few things.”

  “Like men and women in gold masks?” suggested Talandra.

  “Yes. In the last two weeks, eight children from Perizzi alone have left for Shael.”

  “I assume your agents saw the children arrive safely at the Red Tower?”

  “They did. Everything the new Seekers have promised seems to have happened, but that doesn’t mean I trust them.”

  “Nor me,” admitted Talandra. “Half a dozen children from Charas recently made the journey. So far my agents have seen only two Seekers in my city. There might be a couple more, but not many.”

  “They’re stretched,” said Morganse, mirroring Talandra’s thoughts. Whoever had taken over the Red Tower was doing their best, but they were still few in number. It explained why she’d not heard any reports of masked people in the countryside, visiting towns and remote villages. Morganse had shared similar information with her about Seekers only appearing in Perizzi.

  “If we take them at face value then what they’re doing will save lives,” said Talandra.

  “True. So, the question becomes, do we publicly support them in their efforts?”

  They both understood that eventually the public would become aware of the masked Seekers and would expect a formal response from their respective Queens. The real problem was they had no way of knowing what the children were being trained for. The optimist in Talandra said that in a few years the Red Tower would be strong again and if someone like the Warlock should appear, she and other rulers could call on them for support.

  The pessimist in her worried that those in charge could be teaching whole classrooms full of children to hate their own people, creating a hundred new Warlocks. She could suddenly see the wisdom in what she’d always thought of as barbaric branding of magic users in the desert kingdoms.

  “I can see from your expression you share my concerns,” said Morganse.

  “If only there were some way we could send in an agent. Someone to report back what was happening inside the Red Tower.”

  Unfortunately few people with sensitivity to magic made it past their teenage years without some training to control their power. Accidents were common, with some children dying in their sleep and others simply exploding with power, often killing their family in the process. Those who did become adults without training often had such a tenuous link to magic they could ignore it and live normally. Despite the time she’d spent with the Battlemages during the war, Talandra still knew so little about how magic worked.

  Not for the first time she regretted how things had ended with Balfruss. More than that, she hated how his name had become a curse, a word people would not say out loud for fear of attracting his attention. No one seemed to remember that it was Balfruss who had defeated the Warlock and if not for him the war would not have ended when it did.

  “I think this requires more thought and a longer discussion,” said Morganse. “Perhaps we can talk about it later.”

  “I agree.”

  “I also wanted to ask you about the other personal matter we discussed,” said Morganse, staring off into the distance. For the first time since entering the room she looked uncertain and a little afraid.

  Talandra’s wasn’t the only family that had been affected during the war. Although Morganse’s son had not been murdered like Talandra’s father, she’d still lost him. The country had also lost a future King, as he should have taken the throne after his mother.

  In the final days of the war the Crown Prince had boarded a ship and sailed away. Since then, using their combined network of contacts, they’d been tracking his movements as best they could.

  “After spending almost six months in Drassia, my contacts tracked him sailing north. I believe he made port in Zecorria,” said Talandra.

  “I have two contacts that report seeing him around the capital, Herakion. Then he seemed to disappear for three months before resurfacing. Do you know where he went after that?”

  “He came to Seveldrom, to Charas,” said Talandra, passing Morganse a note she’d received from a local agent. “He stayed in the capital for two nights and then travelled east towards the desert.”

  Morganse sat back to ponder this latest bit of information, her frown growing deeper. Talandra didn’t think the Prince’s movements were random. He wasn’t aimlessly wandering from place to place, but so far her agents couldn’t uncover the reason. From Morganse’s expression she also hadn’t determined why her son was travelling across the continent.

  “I’ll leave you to your rest,” said Morganse, coming out of her reverie. Her smile was genuine but her eyes were still distracted. “I hope we can talk again soon.”

  “I’d like that,” said Talandra.

  She’d just settled down and was starting to doze off in the chair when there was another knock on her door.

  Roza came into the room before Talandra had a chance to speak. She looked flustered and agitated, and sat down without asking permission.

  “I was discreet, no one saw me come in,” said Roza, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind an ear.

  “Has something happened?”

  “Katja has secured her invitation to the banquet. I’ve also managed to get a couple of extra agents inside the palace.”

  Talandra raised an eyebrow. “But?”

  “There are still players we haven’t been able to identify. We still don’t have the full picture.”

  “You think we should tell Queen Morganse.”

  “At such an important event she will have her own people in the palace. We could combine our efforts.”

  Talandra took a few minutes to consider it, weighing up the alternatives before coming to a decision.

  “For now, I think we should keep this to ourselves. While I trust Morganse up to a point, there’s no way to know if any of her people have been compromised. Their first priority will be to protect their Queen. I don’t want to be left behind and forgotten if things start to unravel. At least this way I know my people will be looking out for me.”

  “I have a number of agents inside the palace, plus all of your royal guards have been briefed,” said Roza. “There’s also the other idea we discussed. I think it would be prudent, just in case.”

  “I agree. See that it’s done,” she said and Roza sighed with relief.

  Talandra knew it was a risky plan, but despite their best efforts to identify all of those
involved in the plot to assassinate her, some remained hidden. At least she knew she was walking into a trap. She put her trust in her people, their ability to protect her, and the contingencies they’d made. It didn’t sound like much, but Talandra also had a few tricks up her sleeves and would not be caught unawares. If anything, what would normally be a tedious and lengthy banquet might prove to be the most memorable she’d ever attended. She just hoped it wouldn’t be her last.

  CHAPTER 36

  It felt to Choss as if his lungs were burning, but he did his best to ignore the pain and keep moving at a steady jog. The cracked and broken ribs were healing, his arm ached less than before and his leg constantly throbbed with pain, but worst of all was his head.

  The physical pains of his body were familiar, comforting in their own way, as they followed a certain path. He knew what came next in the cycle of bruise, broken bone, sprain and torn muscle. By simply looking at the colour of a bruise, experience told him when it would recede and fade from angry purple to yellow and green. He knew the familiar itching meant the bone had started to knit back together and soon it would be ready to bear more weight.

  The path of recovery for the imbalance in his head could not be so easily charted. Choss had no illusions. He knew there were many people more intelligent than him. He’d worked for some and had not tried to keep up or pretend they were evenly matched. But equally he’d also thought he knew himself well enough that it made him difficult to manipulate.

  Everyone had a weakness, a flaw in their character, or a passion that made them blind and easy to control. At some point the arena had become his life and then his obsession. He had forsaken and ignored opportunities thrust under his nose in order that it succeed and become legitimate. Some had been there for years and he’d not done anything about them, his biggest regret being Munroe. Thoughts of her touch as she’d nursed him lingered in his mind. The feel of her lips, the warmth of her breath, the taste of her skin.

  Choss stumbled but quickly righted himself, focusing his mind on the present. He’d done it to himself. By keeping people at a distance, by isolating himself from his friends, he’d created a void which he’d filled with the arena. Eventually friends had stopped asking him to join them for a drink or a meal and he hadn’t even noticed. The only people he saw every day were those connected to the arena like Vinny and Jakka, but each of those had families, friends and lives. He had nothing else.

  “Are you all right?” asked Fray, jogging a few steps back.

  “Just thinking,” said Choss.

  “Do you think Don Jarrow will believe us?”

  “We’re about to find out,” said Choss, pointing at the tall theatre in the heart of Don Jarrow’s territory. Men and women armed with crossbows saw him coming and Choss slowed to a walk as they came into range.

  “I need to see Don Jarrow,” he said to a tall woman with red hair. He recognised her as a second to one of the Gold, not normally someone who’d guard the theatre. A quick look at all of those nearby showed him faces he knew well. The most loyal and trusted that Don Jarrow could rely on, not people who might have been tainted by his traitorous wife. Perhaps he already knew.

  “It’s not a good time,” said the guard.

  “This is important. It’s about Don Kal,” he insisted. The guard glanced at Fray, her hand twitching on her crossbow. “Give her your sword, Fray.”

  To his credit Fray didn’t argue. He unbuckled his sword belt and passed it across to the guard, together with two daggers. She still patted Fray down thoroughly while two other guards watched, nervously clutching their swords. Choss spotted two archers looking down at them from nearby rooftops and a few spotters as well. A direct assault on Don Jarrow at the theatre seemed unlikely, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Choss passed across his punching daggers and for a moment thought they would search him as well for other weapons. The others looked to the redhead for guidance but she shook her head.

  Inside, the theatre was more crowded than Choss had ever seen it before. Weapon racks leaned against the walls and most of them were already empty. A huge pile of arrows sat off to one side and several people were stuffing their quivers full before going out the back door. Several Gold were giving orders, grouping men and women together before directing them to points in the city. A huge map had been set up on a table in the centre of the room where Don Jarrow and several men and women stood around it. Vargus had positioned himself a few steps back from the huddle, but they’d left a space so that he could see the map. His experience would be invaluable in such a situation.

  Behind Don Jarrow on the platform sat the two throne-like chairs. His wife’s absence highlighted the betrayal to Choss but no one else seemed to have noticed.

  More men and women filled the first tier of seating above Choss’s head. All of them were armed and restless, awaiting orders that were gradually being given out. The air was so thick with tension it felt as if he were wading through a river to reach the table.

  Don Jarrow and one or two glanced up as he approached, but they quickly turned back to the map.

  “I want at least two people on every roof in this area,” said Don Jarrow, stabbing the map with a thick finger. “And get me another dozen runners. Pull in the Paper jackals if you need to. As long as they’re fast.”

  Don Jarrow looked up again at Choss and made a dismissive gesture to those nearest, who stepped away to give him some privacy. Vargus didn’t move from his post, but he did turn slightly so that he could keep Choss and Fray in plain sight. His right hand remained resting on the hilt of a dagger on his belt, and the expression on his face wasn’t one Choss had seen directed at him before. It took him a moment to realise it was suspicion. Vargus no longer held him in high regard.

  “I was angry with you for a while,” said Don Jarrow, which drew Choss’s attention back to him. “But then I realised she’d fooled and manipulated us all.”

  “We went into the meat district and—”

  “Was she there?” asked Don Jarrow, cutting him off. Somehow he already knew. Perhaps his wife’s prolonged absence had confirmed Don Jarrow’s suspicions or maybe she’d left him a note. Either way it seemed pointless for Choss to dance around the subject since the Don had brought it up.

  “Yes. And Daxx was with her.”

  Don Jarrow grimaced. “It doesn’t matter. She only took about two dozen people with her. Even with them, Don Kal can’t attack all of the Families. Not at once. They’ll come here first on her orders and we’ll make them suffer.”

  “There’s more bad news,” said Choss. “Dońa Parvie and her sister have signed up with Don Kal.”

  Don Jarrow’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open before he regained control. He lowered his head to the map, hiding his surprise from the many faces watching. Now wasn’t the time to show weakness. It could prove deadly. If Don Jarrow couldn’t protect his people then someone else would remove him and try to do a better job.

  “Parvie’s people were filtering into the square while Don Kal gave a speech.”

  “She and her sister always were sneaky rats,” muttered Don Jarrow. “They must think he’s going to win, otherwise they’d just sit back and pick through the bones.”

  “If I were them, I’d send some people here and some against another Family,” said Choss.

  Don Jarrow shook his head. “No, they’ll send everyone here first, try to recruit those who might be loyal to my wife,” he said with a sneer. “They’ll kill everyone else and then move on to the other Families.”

  “Could you go to the other Dons? Ask them for help?”

  Don Jarrow considered it. “Don Lowell won’t help. He’s not lived this long by sticking his neck out. He’ll barricade himself into his district and emerge when the fires have burned out. And the Duchess, she’s not one for direct assaults. She’ll keep her distance, work behind the scenes and make deals to keep herself safe. No, we’re on our own.”

  Don Jarrow frowned and stared at the map, trying to find something
that he could use to his advantage. There was another obvious suggestion but Choss doubted many would dare put it forward. He had little to lose and was already held in low regard so it seemed worth the risk.

  “What about asking the Butcher for help?”

  At first Choss didn’t think Don Jarrow had heard, as he kept staring at the map, but eventually he looked up. His eyes were furious and Choss was suddenly reminded of how Jarrow had earned his position. All too quickly the rage drained away as reality set in. If he wanted to survive and protect his territory then he would have to compromise.

  “We all told the Butcher to keep his distance with this business and he agreed,” muttered Don Jarrow, in a low voice so that it didn’t carry to the many ears nearby. “If he does help us there will be a cost. What puzzles me is that all of this isn’t like Don Kal.”

  “Don Kalbensham isn’t giving the orders any more,” said Fray, stepping forward.

  “Who’s this?” asked Don Jarrow.

  “Fray. He’s a friend. He also has some magic.”

  As soon as the word left his mouth Choss thought it might have been a fatal mistake. Before he had a chance to say anything more, Vargus had drawn his sword and pressed it against Fray’s neck. Without turning, Choss heard the creak of a few bows and felt several arrows pointing at his back.

  “We came here to help you,” said Fray.

  Don Jarrow glared at Fray. “I don’t know you. And right now,” he continued, pointing at Choss, “his judgement can’t be trusted. So speak quickly before I lose my temper.”

  “Don Kal is dead. Someone has taken his place and they’re giving the orders.”

  Don Jarrow shook his head. “His people wouldn’t switch allegiance that quickly.”

  “They can’t tell the difference. The new leader looks exactly like Don Kal.”

  “Is this a game? Some kind of a joke?” said Don Jarrow, quickly losing patience.

  “It’s true,” said Choss. “Fray can see things with his magic.” Don Jarrow shook his head. “I thought better of you, Choss. Not a man that could be fooled twice so easily.”