by D. H. Aire
“I’ll go home this in—”
“No, you must not! I fear for you outside these walls. Your gift is too new a thing for many to feel comfortable knowing it is a human talent you wield. The Elfking must have followers within the city if he has been able to manifest in any way.”
“I’ll be fine, Uncle.”
“Stay until one of those wives of yours comes for you!”
The Imperials could be heard beginning to search for the Master of the Hall. “Ward your life, child of my sister. Promise me you shall not go unescorted from this Hall!” Shrugging, Balfour acquiesced, “As you wish, but have things gone as awry as you fear?”
Ofran opened the chamber door, “I would gladly be wrong in this.”
The Imperials rushed to the elder healer at his shout, “Who dares disturb the peace of this Hall!”
Chastened, they bowed low. “The Empress requests your presence, m’lord,” stated the Captain.
“So, why are you just standing there? Get me a proper coach. Let’s be off this instant!”
Balfour watched as the party hurried outside. The moans of patients echoed with the sound of their booted feet across the floor.
Etched in black, the form of the Highmage lay motionless.
“He has been quite busy today,” a melodic elvin voice said behind her.
Carwina instantly turned a weary head in surprise at the unwelcome intrusion. The archmage, Regis, merely smiled at her fondly, “He appeared before the Guild today— at a most opportune moment.”
Angrily, Carwina stated, “And it nearly killed him!”
Regis gently put his hand on her shoulder, “Cousin, I’ve little doubt it was a near thing on a number of levels.” She hugged him and sobbed, “Why is this happening?”
“None of us can afford to struggle alone any longer, little one. Your brethren will abide here, hence.”
Carwina tensed, “No... I’ll not allow it. No one can be trusted alone in his presence. It’s too near a thing.”
Regis shook his head, “A few old cousins visiting might ease your burden.”
She blinked, looking terribly tired, “But the old ones never leave the Grove’s precincts.”
“They love him, Wina. Do you think they could ignore his struggle? He is the very heart of our beliefs. Man and elf united, bound together not as adversaries but as one people –– that was our answer for a lasting peace. He-Who-Dwells-In-the-North has a hate that has grown boundless, it has consumed him… Only the Highmage, the Gate, and what meager powers remain to us can balance that evil.”
Carwina struggled to turn away from him. This was her fight, her father. Highmage he may be, he was first, and foremost, her father. This was her battle against the dark and she meant to win it.
Regis nodded. “You are as stubborn as your father.” He bent and kissed her brow before she realized his intent. He grabbed her arms as she collapsed.
Three elderly elves peered from the doorway, “Archmage?”
“Come, watch over your charge. Let no one prevent you from your task.” Regis hefted the unconscious elvin woman into his arms and carried her out of the room.
The elves behind him took positions about the bed and began their song.
The Imperial Guards and the servants frowned as the score of elderly elves settling across the house began to murmur, echoing the song’s chant that suddenly reverberated throughout the structure.
Regis settled Carwina upon her bed. The strain upon her face had faded, the song’s soothing effect aiding her recovery. He turned sadly away, knowing that Alrex’s death was still certain. “Alrex, I would not have had your strength...”
First Day
3
The gentle knock at the door woke Aaprin. Me’oh smiled at the waking lads and said, “Good morning. You have roughly a half hour before breakfast. Best get a move on.”
Aaprin groggily sat up in bed as Revit and Terus groaned and turned over to go back to sleep. “None of that you two— we face our new master today.”
“I’d rather go back to sleep,” Revit quipped as Terus heartily laughed.
Aaprin tossed his pillow at Revit, who immediately rose sputtering, threatening to toss the offending item right back. “I’ve always loved having you two as dorm mates, but I’ve a strong suspicion…”
“…That we’ll never grow up!” Terus finished for him as he threw his pillow at Revit’s back.
The fight between the laughing pair was on. Aaprin caught his pillow on the return, set it gently down and gathered his things for a quick bath. He paused at the door, “Well, you coming or not?”
Grinning, and now wide awake, they hastened to follow. How predictable, Aaprin thought as they walked down the hall to the bathing area.
Their master’s beast watched the three from the foot of the stairs. As Aaprin passed the head of the stairs, he glanced down and met the beast’s eerie gaze. There was a look of fierce intelligence in that wolfen face. He hoped it was not thinking of them as breakfast.
“Balfour, do be so kind as to stay here today,” Se’and stated in a voice that brooked no argument.
The elfblood healer looked at her quizzically, “Don’t tell me, you think harm could come to me within the Healer’s Hall.”
Cle’or coughed, “They took ill to Me’oh’s continued presence in the herbalist den and they have tried to bar me from the Hall.”
Balfour glared, “You threatened the wardens, Cle’or. And as Me’oh’s pregnancy advances, I’ve told you I preferred her away from the Hall’s pharmacopoeia.”
Coming down the stairs, the three apprentices hesitatingly found themselves confronting an argument between the black liveried Cathartan women and an elfblooded man robed as an Imperial healer.
“Ah, Je’orj’s apprentices come to witness the daily routine,” Balfour commented with a reassuring smile toward the uncomfortable trio.
Me’oh called from the kitchen, “I really would appreciate a hand with the juice, fruit and eggs.”
Cle’or set herself staunchly in front of her lord husband, “Stay in the house today. I have made proper arrangements with the dwarves to see to your safety.”
“Under your most able supervision, no doubt. However, their presence will be no more welcome than…”
Cle’or grinned, “The masters will not even note their presence. What is one more servant or one more patient on the ward to cause concern, huh?”
Frowning thoughtfully, Balfour nodded, “That might actually work... But I’ve mid-morning rounds, which I shall not forsake.”
Aaprin ushered Revit and Terus quickly away from the argument and into the kitchen, where Me’oh pointed out the items to be taken to table. The argument without grew louder.
“ENOUGH!” George shouted. “Can’t a person get any sleep around here?”
Se’and and Cle’or bowed as Je’orj blearily came down the steps wearing a cloth robe. Fri’il glared at Se’and in mute accusation a step behind their lord.
“Morning, Je’orj,” Balfour said with a rueful shake of his head.
“So now you know what its like,” George replied.
Revit and Terus set the platters on the table as Balfour shrugged and gestured Master Je’orj to sit. “You must be exhausted. I thought you’d sleep at least til noon.”
“Don’t even let me think it,” George snapped taking the seat Se’and offered him at the head of the table.
Aaprin held a brimming pitcher in his hand, pausing awkwardly, he stepped forward, “Uh, Master, would you care for some juice?”
The man looked at him as Cathartans grinned. “Please, and don’t wait on your breakfast. Sit, eat.”
“Such manners in the House— and not here even a day,” Me’oh commented as she brought the last platter from the kitchen. As the boys took seats, Se’and leaned over and kissed Je’orj on the cheek, “Good morning, husband. I take it that hunger drove you from your bed.”
He glared at her and tried to appear less anxious to eat than
he was. His staff’s glow seemed faded as if its energies had been equally depleted. Se’and was pleased to see Je’orj begin to eat as the boys began to heap their plates high.
Raven resettled herself beside George’s chair. He looked down at her thoughtfully and opened his mouth to say something to her, when she vigorously shook her head. He eyed her curiously, then shrugged.
Fri’il took the seat at Je’orj’s right and watched the boys eat with some amusement. Cle’or pointedly ignored their table manners and said to Balfour, “If you choose to risk yourself, then you will accept me as your escort.”
Grimacing, Balfour turned instead to the lads, “This place must seem a far cry from the Academy.”
“Mmm,” Revit and Terus mouthed almost in sync, “this is pretty good digs.”
“Better than the Academy.”
“Sick of that plaster they fed us.”
“Don’t you agree, Aapy?”
Aaprin swallowed hastily, finding everyone suddenly looking at him curiously. Me’oh’s eyes were sparkling with repressed mirth. Balfour was grinning, but it was the pensive look on his new master’s face that worried Aaprin most, “It’s, uh, quite nice here, actually.”
Se’and shook her head and announced, “Well, since you are all up and about. I suppose we’d best commence your orientation and introduction to the Household.”
“Don’t scare them, Se’and,” George remarked. “Life here is not going to be so regimented. I’m in charge of their studies.”
Se’and smiled. “Actually, since they’ve been added to the House, I’ve made certain arrangements.”
“You have, have you?” George muttered darkly.
:George, it is not as bad as you are imagining,: bespoke that voice in the ether that so disturbed Aaprin, who nearly choked hearing it.
George glanced sidelong at his seemingly wooden staff, “Okay, what have the two of you cooked up?”
“Se’and and I shall be their weapons instructors,” Cle’or averred.
Revit’s eyes went round. “But we’re mage apprentices,” muttered Terus, “not apprentice guardsmen.”
The look Cle’or gave the elvin lad left him breathless and pale. “A blade in your back kills you just as dead as any infernal spell.”
Balfour raised his hand, “Point taken. Je’orj, you can’t argue with that.”
Sitting back, George glared at Se’and, who was looking entirely too smug. “What else have you concocted?”
“Hmm? Oh, I’ve noticed the interest you’ve taken in the dwarven arts. Spiro has agreed to instruct them,” she replied.
“Fine –– though, I’m surprised at his willingness,” George said.
Fri’il coughed, “Spiro is much enamored with the idea of being of service to the ‘Dwarf-friend,’ Milord.”
“It certainly made for an interesting bargaining session,” Me’oh muttered.
The look that got from George as his lips moved to echo the term ‘bargaining session’ drew a cautious response from Se’and who whispered, “Later.”
“Any other instructors, I should be already aware of?” George asked.
“Fri’il has agreed to instruct on House etiquette,” Se’and replied as Fri’il chuckled.
Aaprin gaped, forgetting the egg on his fork as his master slowly turned and said, “Don’t tell me you intend to dress them in black!”
Fri’il rasped, “Of course not. They’re boys!” Revit and Terus looked at each other wondering just what that meant.
Looking relieved, George shook his head and went back to his breakfast. I really don’t want to know, he told himself.
Staff added cheerful, :Oh, this should be good.:
Apprentices
4
:It could be worse,: Aaprin heard bespoken to his master.
“How?” George mumbled.
Silence descended as the meal continued. Feeling sated, Revit and Terus sat back and eyed Aaprin. The older boy anxiously waited as Master Je’orj set down his final cup of juice. “Order for the day,” he said almost wistfully.
Grinning, Se’and nodded, “Thank you, Milord... Me’oh, duty is yours today. After the apprentices help you clear, they are to report to the Grand Hall. First hour will be with Fri’il, and myself. Second hour will be with Lord Balfour. The third hour shall be their time with Journeyman Spiro.”
“The House meeting will take place here in the meantime, milords. You are invited to attend. But I see no reason to tax your strength. Me’oh shall represent the House’s interest regarding policy that must be set— after all, we’ve three new protégés to consider. After lunch, Lord Je’orj will be with the apprentices. Oh, please be advised that visitors are expected. House security is to be considered at all times. Should anything happen that is in any way suspicious report it immediately to Cle’or or myself. No one accepts sole responsibility where the safety of the members of this House are concerned. Is that understood?” She said pointedly to the boys, who nodded. “Very well. Everyone is dismissed to duties.”
Aaprin hesitated a moment as the Cathartans rose, then remembering his assigned duties, began helping to clear the table.
Revit and Terus hastily gathered plates as the beast rose on its haunches and glared.
George stroked her mane and whispered, “Shh, everything’s fine— at least as fine as it ever gets.”
Se’and stood hands on hips and glared at him.
George smiled faintly. “House meeting, then business meeting. Se’and, what have you gotten me into now?”
Fri’il knelt and brushed his cheek with hers, “Se’and sees to the needs of the House.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered seemingly to himself.
Staff glistened sympathetically.
Me’oh thanked the boys for their help and ushered them out into the Grand Hall, which lay behind the oaken doors in back of the dining area. The clash of arms had been a muted echo from the kitchen that Aaprin had wondered about as they finished their assigned chore. Now, in the room it was like thunder. Se’and and Fri’il sparred, seeming to dance across the spartan room, moving in a point counter-point. Se’and made an approving nod and bowed, which a grinning Fri’il returned.
Slowly, Se’and turned to face the three gaping apprentices. “Well, don’t just stand there as if you’ve nothing better to do. Come over here.”
Revit and Terus half stumbled forward at Aaprin’s ungentle shove. “I’ve little doubt you had any weapons training other than to wield a butter knife,” Se’and commented, looking at them appraisingly. The boys nodded vaguely. “Well, I won’t hold that against you. I’ve no intention of putting anything even as simple as said butter knife in your hands today.”
Aaprin sighed with relief and Revit and Terus gradually relaxed as Se’and and Fri’il smiled reassuringly. “You need to understand something very important,” stated Se’and. “As long as you are members of this House you bear a responsibility to not only defend it, but defend yourselves as best you may.
“Look about this chamber. You see walls, ceiling, and floors, this house is but a structure. A Cathartan House is much more. For many it is a place of reflection and refuge, a hope for humanity. Every person in the House is part of the whole… every human life, cherished. Ours is a fragile existence. Among my people there are few men due to the Curse that threatens mankind with extinction.
“We can take no chances on the loss of a single Lord— the House might well fall because of it.”
“But that’s there,” Aaprin muttered.
Se’and shook her head, “One son in a generation that is all a House can hope for. I can expect to bear daughters— as can Fri’il or Me’oh. And, I have a few thousand sesters.”
“Sesters?”
“Half sisters,” Fri’il said, “like Se’and and Cle’or.”
Terus looked doubtful as Revit nudged Aaprin, “Must be fun at birthdays.”
Fri’il took an angry step toward the offending boy, but found her way barr
ed by the quicker Se’and, who smoothly shoved Revit right off his feet.
Startled and indignant, Revit sputtered at such treatment. Se’and looked down at him, hands at her hips, “Balance is one of the most important lessons you shall learn here.” Looking to the two other gawking boys, she added, “Oh, and as I was saying, my homeland may be considered legend here in the Empire,” Terus carefully helped Revit to stand as Se’and blithely continued, “but a Cathartan House now exists in this place. Such an entity is precious and very fragile— that reality makes what we shall teach you all the more important. Treat it as such and you shall do well.”
Fri’il nodded as Se’and motioned for her to begin, “Cathartan beliefs reflect our choice of weapons and skills to be used in defending ourselves and our House. The body and mind together form the foremost weapons in our arsenal. They can be trained to react instantly to contend with any threat. That training begins this morning. Best loosen your garments and remove your shoes. We will begin with basic exercise before commencing the most elementary training.”
Terus rubbed his chest where he had been pushed. Revit muttered, “Later.” The wisp of a smile did not go unnoticed by either Aaprin, who glanced ceilingward, or Se’and who smiled more broadly.
Rising off her haunches, the beast shimmered. George sat back and considered those seated around the table before him as his shape-changing foster daughter came over to him her arms outstretched. He briefly frowned, knowing that asking her to put on some clothes was a hopeless task. “Oh, all right, come on, then,” he muttered hefting her up to his lap.
She hugged him, worried.
“Everything’s fine,” he said to her comfortingly.
“No,” she whispered, then concentrated and gave over to him mental images of men in shadows, watching from alleyways, windows, or simply loitering across the street.
He sighed and caressed her cheek as Cle’or averred, “She knows. She’s scouted since dawn. The danger is real. You are now a candidate for Highmage –– and not of elvin blood. For now, they merely observe, but that may not long forestall those who truly mean you harm.”