He set the bottle down and returned to watch the arrow wound. It closed up with a creeping growth of new flesh which had always amazed Sordith. When at last the skin appeared to cease its snaking movements, the skin still appeared fragile.
“You are either going to need to be careful or take another potion. I think this would break open without too much effort,” Sordith cautioned.
Henrick cleared his throat then answered with hoarse tones. “It is better that way when I go to see Luthian. A little blood and damage will further set the plan we follow.” He paused for a moment. “I will take a potion with me. If it breaks open, I can take it after I leave,” Henrick breathing was still labored.
“What if he takes your challenge?” Sordith asked.
“He won’t.”
“How can you be sure?” Sordith was not as certain as the mage that the High Minister would back down from a challenge.
“He doesn’t like witnesses. Alador will be there. He will not strike down the boy’s father in front of him, even if Alador has expressed his dislike of me. Luthian is not stupid.” Henrick gave a wry smile. “At least he thinks he is not. However, he will not give leverage to the mageling.” Henrick gave a slight shake of his head.
“I wondered why you insisted that Alador was with Luthian. I thought it was to keep him out of harm’s way and innocent of these matters.” Sordith grinned. He wondered, at times, which of them had the more devious mind. Though, in fairness, Henrick had more time on him.
“You had best go.” Henrick sat up straight, the movements stilted. “You smell of smoke and battle, as we planned. You have the wounds to show you were here.” Henrick paused surveying the room.
“I will see to the proper disposal of this garbage with many witnesses.” He waved at the bodies as he spoke. “I shall cry foul and declare to all that will listen that someone tried to assassinate me.” Henrick returned his gaze to Sordith. “You have that black mage lined up to take the fall?”
Sordith grinned. “Of course, found the most Dethara loving mage I could seek out.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He has been bragging about moving up soon, too, so it was easy to plant the evidence. He will take the fall, and we will rid ourselves of a death mage.”
Henrick nodded his approval. “The more of them we can get out of Silverport, the better.”
“You still haven’t told me why you have this sudden hatred for death mages,” Sordith pointed out.
“Who said it was sudden?” Henrick cracked a smile.
“Well... I… With the appearance at the ball.” Sordith stammered.
“Let’s just say I have more motivation since the Priestess of the Black Sphere made her appearance. It never bodes well when those of the gods begin to meddle in affairs of mortals, let alone a single city.” Henrick took a deep breath, the potion continuing to ease his pain.
Sordith nodded. He had seen the look of surprise on both of his kin’s faces that night. He had seen the fear in Luthian’s eyes. There was more to this matter of the priestess than the two men were telling him. No matter, he thought, he had other ways of gaining information.
“Go, before the smoke draws unwanted eyes,” Henrick commanded, slowly rising from the chair and indicating the smoke filtering out his veranda. “I suggest you take the servants’ exit.”
Sordith nodded. He made his way out and down the hall, taking the back passage. He had no concern leaving Henrick to whatever explanation that he had concocted for his neighbors. He, as the Trench Lord, had his own dramatic performance to enact, one of being beaten off by a fifth tier mage.
Chapter Two
“Alador!” The sharp call made the man in question jump. “Pay attention.”
His eyes snapped back to his uncle. His mind had been on Henrick and Sordith. What if the ruse had been discovered? What if Sordith had chosen too many men, or ones with too much skill? His gaze refocused on his uncle, and he realized that Luthian was staring at him.
“I am sorry, Uncle, I fear you are right; my mind was not on your lesson.” Alador rubbed his eyes. “I do apologize.” He sat forward to scrutinize the spell book that his Uncle had been teaching from the last couple of hours.
Luthian looked over at Alador and shook his head. The mage’s eyes narrowed as they raked over the younger mage. “What could be of such weight that it is bigger than learning how to shield from spells? You will need this defense if you are to take a home on the tiers.” Luthian snapped the book shut. “Share the weight on your mind, for clearly until you do, we will get no work done today.”
Alador’s mind was frantic to find something other than what had really occupied his thoughts, then grasped at the first thing that came to his mind. “The lady at the ball. The one that came in when you were dancing with Lady Aldemar. Who is she?” Henrick had advised against questions, but a part of Alador wanted to know her connection to Luthian.
Luthian’s gaze left Alador as he stared at the spell book before him. The long pause only emphasized the nervous plucking at his sleeve. “Lady Morana,” he began quietly, “is the high priestess at the Temple of Death.” He reached for the wine he often kept close at hand and drained the cup.
“You have temples to the Gods?” This caught Alador’s attention as he had not expected such reverence in this city.
“Not all the Gods have temples, but the one to Dethara was finished about eight turns ago, and Lady Morana was chosen as its high priestess. It is a magnificent place set back into the mountains,” Luthian said absently, toying with his empty wine goblet.
“Who paid for such a place?” Alador figured that such a building had to come at a high cost.
His uncle stiffened then cleared his throat before answering. “I did,” Luthian admitted. “The priests of Dethara approached me with an offer. Despite my being of the fire sphere, they offered blessings on Lerdenia and protection from plagues and rot in exchange for a place to pay homage to the Goddess.”
“Yet, you did not seem pleased to see her,” Alador pointed out. “If this priestess has given such a blessing on our people then one would think you would be glad to see her.” He had a million questions, but for now, he was going to have to step carefully.
“You would think.” Luthian looked up at Alador then back down at his spell book. His words took on a cold, hard edge. “Sometimes, when you lead people, nephew, you make difficult choices in which there is no real clear, right answer. At the time, such a blessing on the people seemed a boon which I could not reject.” Luthian played with the cover of the book before him as he blew out a long stream of air. His posture relaxed a bit.
Alador waited, but after a long period of silence, he cautiously asked, “And now?”
“Now, I have discovered that some blessings come with hidden costs. Never forget that.” Luthian looked at Alador, the mask of teacher slipped back onto his features. “People will offer much to gain what they want, but often what they honestly seek is not on the surface of their requests and generous praise.” Luthian got up and moved away to refill his goblet, then walked back to the crackling fire near where they were sitting.
Luthian stared into the flickering flames of golden yellow. “Lady Morana has continued to gain in power and followers since the day the temple opened. Black dragons now nest in caves that her priests opened up for them far above the temple. She is not anyone I can cast aside lightly.”
Luthian’s words became soft more as if he were speaking to himself. “First, she has power and influence. Second, what would Dethara cast down upon our people if I were to act against her followers?”
Both men were quietly considering his words for a long moment. Luthian turned back to look at Alador. “Tell me, nephew, with that quick mind of yours, what would you do?”
Alador blinked a few times in surprise as he stared at his uncle. This was a side of the man that he had never seen. He had always imagined the High Minister as fearless, but there was a resignation of defeat in the way he spoke about Dethara. In additio
n, Luthian had just asked him for advice. The man confused him at times. Luthian seemed bent on conquest and power, yet here he was showing a concern for his people.
He thought about the situation as he rose and moved to his uncle’s side, scooping up a few sweets as he passed the table where the wine decanter was also placed. “I would declare that the temple must be self-sustaining, now that it has had time to gain its footing,” he offered. “At least then, their claws are not in your coffers.” He stared into the flames, as well, considering. “I would try to balance the error by offering land and supplies to other spheres, assuming they have similar representatives.” He popped the sweets into his mouth.
“Fine thoughts.” After a prolonged pause, Luthian looked over at Alador. “Stay away from the Lady Morana,” Luthian advised. He put a hand on Alador’s arm, clutching it tightly. “If she gets her claws into you, there will be no release from her demands.”
Alador winced at the emphasis of claws into the flesh of his arm. “Are you afraid of her, then?” Alador met his uncle’s gaze evenly.
“Listen to me, boy.” Luthian searched his nephew’s gaze. “There are few things in the world that brings me fear,” Luthian’s tone was more of a cold hiss as he continued. “Lady Morana is one of them.”
The uneasy silence lay between them for a long moment. Alador shifted; the closeness that had manifested between them was discomforting. He pulled away from Luthian, not liking that for a moment he had felt a sense of kinship. “Well, let us hope she stays buried in her mountain temple,” he quipped.
Luthian chuckled slightly. “Somehow, I think she will find her way exactly where she wishes to be.” He led the way back to the table.
Alador winked at his uncle as the older man glanced at him. “What woman doesn’t?”
Luthian grinned at him. “Yes, what woman does not,” he agreed. He moved back to the table. “Enough of the fair Lady Morana and her ample charms. Let us return to this spell.” Luthian’s tone became firm and commanding again.
Alador groaned. “Uncle, you have been drilling me on this spell for hours.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear I will shield myself in my sleep, and shove some fair maiden out of my bed.”
“Really?” Luthian’s long drawn out question seemed to follow his finger as it traced the symbol on the front of the book. He did not even look up as his hand shot up and fire flew from his fingertips straight at Alador. The stream of fire shot straight for the mageling’s chest.
Alador almost did not have time to form the shield. His hands flew up as if to ward off the flames. The line of fire hit a wall of shimmering water and steam hissed into the air as the flames parted and snaked to either side of him.
Luthian cut the line of fire at the first hiss of the shield. “Very good.” He grinned coldly as he clasped his hands behind him. “But the shield cannot always be made of water, nephew. While that works with me for fire, a wind spell would just push such water into your face. You ‘must’ make the shield out of power and not your element.” He circled Alador eyeing the pattern of water on the floor.
“How am I to reach for power when my element is always around me? I can feel water’s call even from a distance.” Alador shivered as if chilled. Alador moved to Luthian, his curiosity piqued.
“So does power, boy. We are not limited to our spheres when we know this. You can use power as a replacement for your element. Some spheres use that source of power more than any element. If you had been listening, you would know this.” The older mage let a heavy sigh escape as he shook his head. “Apparently, I lost you at least an hour ago.” Luthian smirked.
Alador had the grace to look guilty. Luthian, as of late, had been trying hard to teach him and Alador did not sense much deception. The lessons he was giving were far different from those inside the caverns of the guard; most of which were direct spells of combat. Perhaps his ruse was working, but it was equally possible that Luthian was playing him as well.
“I need to understand something. It plagues me and only you can answer it,” Alador said.
Luthian sat down at his chair at the table. “It seems many things plague you, today. It is better you learn to keep your mind on the task in front of you. Distractions can kill a man.” Luthian glanced up at Alador and grinned. “What is your question?”
“Why two forces? You have the Lerdenian army. Many of them have lower magical skills in addition to their military training.” Alador paused, struggling to ask exactly what he wanted to know without revealing his intentions. “I know from tales of the war that your council keeps them well trained, and that there are standing garrisons around your territory. Why create the Blackguard separately? Why not make it one force?” Alador sat down beside his uncle.
“It is a matter of attitude to be honest.” Luthian mused as he took a long sip of wine. “Many in the Lerdenian army turned to a military life when they could not advance in magic. So to them, it is a home of last resort.” Luthian set the glass down and sat back, arms crossed as he considered the question further. “If you train these soldiers in magic they don’t know, you would soon find them jostling about for position and power. There is nothing more intoxicating than an increase in power to a Lerdenian. The feel of harvesting a bloodstone of any weight is often described as better than any fine woman in your bed.”
Luthian paused as he seemed lost for a moment: his eyes glazed and he let out a soft sigh of pleasure. “To feel that power racing through you, you would do anything to feel it again.” Luthian’s words were low, and his eyes closed with some unseen vision. “Unfortunately, it is never quite like that first stone you pull,” he murmured.
Collecting himself with a shudder, his eyes snapped back to Alador. “Half-breeds, such as yourself, do not seem to feel this, so there is no constant desire to find more and more. In addition, while there are exceptions, most are grateful to find a place where they are accepted. Few Lerdenian are grateful they are in the military.”
“So you can train them safely without worrying about distractions for power for the most part.” Alador mused. Alador gave a small, distracted chuckle before speaking again. This time his tone took on a cold edge. “But it seems to me the bigger reason is this sense of gratitude that you are hoping for, yet Uncle, there are stories of horrible brutality suffered at your hands before I joined the guard.” Alador looked at him with dark scrutiny, attempting to hide the disgust he held.
Luthian looked over at him; his face was blank of any emotion. “I was determined that they would respect my authority. At the time, I did not care if it was genuine or out of fear.”
Alador was surprised that his uncle had not tried to downplay that more. “And now?” he asked.
Luthian sighed almost as if the conversation were now boring. He began to flip through the pages as he spoke. “Now the guard is large enough on its own that stories of what could happen are enough.” Luthian opened the spell book back to the pages on shielding spells.
Alador shook his head; disgust written openly upon his face. He did not try to hide it as he was finding a truthful path far more effective with Luthian than deception had been. Luthian looked over and stopped flipping through the book.
“Your displeasure is evident, nephew,” Luthian drawled out.
“I was not trying to hide it.” Alador looked over and met his uncle’s discerning gaze.
“You learned to fight in the guard. You took on Aorun in his own home over a bed servant. Yet, you stand in judgment of my harsher hand.” Luthian sat back as he steepled his fingers. He eyed Alador with a bit of amusement. “I find that curious.”
“I use violence because I have to in order to defend myself, to protect those I have come to care about, and in your cause…” Alador paused.” “...Because I am ordered.” He looked from his uncle’s fingers to his face. “You use it as a means of manipulation and control. It is ‘that’ which I find distasteful.” Alador moved away from his uncle in disgust; the bonding between them slipped away.<
br />
“When you are in control of many people, the threat of what you ‘could’ do is greater than what you ‘would’ do. But to get that mindset into people’s minds, it requires a sacrifice of a few for the good of the whole. Much...” Luthian appeared to search for words as he spread his hands to indicate a flat surface. " ... Much like you must pull seedlings from the row in planting to thin out the weaker stalks and leave room for the healthy to grow. The sacrifice of the few gives the outcome of a far stronger and healthier yield.”
Alador wanted to dispute his uncle, but he did not dare push back to hard. If he did, the growing openness between them would cease, and all of Alador’s plans relied on Luthian extending him some basic trust.
“I will consider that,” he hesitantly conceded.
“I advise not too closely.” Renamaum snarled, surprising Alador. The dragon had been quiet for some time.
At that moment, the door to the library flew open with such force that Luthian rose sending his chair skittering backwards, and Alador rose and turned with spell in hand. A ball of lightning glimmered in Alador’s; matched by a ball of fire in Luthian’s. Henrick stepped into the doorway. He looked far more furious than Alador had ever seen him, and even though he knew this part of the plan; he took a step backwards.
“You…” Henrick stomped into the room with two armed Blackguards at his back; both with swords drawn. “...Double-crossing, cowardly, conniving bastard!” Henrick snarled. His hand was pressed to his side, and Alador could see the blood on his fingers.
Alador let the spell fade from his hand and took another step to the left to avoid being so close to Luthian. Henrick had been certain that Luthian would not accept a challenge, but both Sordith and he had not been so certain.
Luthian let the fire fade from his own hand. “Why brother, it would appear you have been hurt. I will send for a healer,” Luthian offered with an edge of concern. “I am a bit confused as to why you are calling me names.” Luthian let a look of puzzlement set onto his face and, Alador had to give him credit, it was rather believable.
Pseudo-Dragon (The Blue Dragon's Geas Book 4) Page 2