by Eric Vall
“He murdered the head of the Order!” Aurora croaked, still slumped on the ground beside Cayla and I. Tears actually filled her emerald eyes, though none were allowed to escape down her cheek. The half-elf sniffled and dashed the back of her wrist against her eyes.
“Yes, the man who revealed himself to be a treasonous bastard,” Temin intoned with a dark expression on his face. He looked down at his slain advisor, and his brown eyes shone with contempt and disgust.
“What?” Aurora blurted and then shook her head. “No, no, Abrus wouldn’t… he just wouldn’t. He loved Illaria. His life’s work was protecting her.”
“He would, and he did,” I said gently. I reached over Cayla and put my hand atop the half-elf’s. “He admitted it himself.”
“But why?” the blue-haired maiden demanded. Her eyes still glittered with unshed tears, and even though I could see her try to fight it, her lower lip trembled.
I had to remember that no matter what I thought of the bastard, he had, in a way, saved Aurora’s life as a child. She was indebted to him. She cared for him. The truth wasn’t going to be easy to hear.
“Look,” I said, and then I reached out, fumbled across the dead mage’s chest, dug around under the collar of his robe, and then yanked off the amulet that had made me realize the truth. Maybe the jewel could help Aurora see it, too.
“What is this?” the half-elf asked as I dropped the crimson gem in her hands.
“I don’t know exactly,” I explained softly, “but look, it bears the same mark as the basilisk.”
I pointed to the strange black markings on the gem, and Aurora inhaled sharply as she saw that it was identical to the one on the basilisk's skull.
“Was he controlled by the magic?” my lover asked.
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “It might be impossible to ever find out now. He could have been a puppet, or he could have been the one pulling the strings. Either way, he was trying to seize power. He wanted Temin to think the elves were behind this so that a war would break out with the Nalnorans. He… he called the elves savages.”
That one word struck Aurora worse than a physical blow. Her hand twitched upward as if she meant to touch unconsciously at her ear. She pursed her lips and swallowed so loudly I heard her throat click.
“B-but what about Illaria?” she demanded. “The people--”
“Abrus didn’t care about them,” I said with a shake of my head. “He called non-magical people ‘filthy peasants’ and said their role should be to serve mages because we have all the power. He hated me for offering the king guns. He hated that I was giving power to non-mages. He was a racist, Aurora, I’m sorry. If I didn’t kill him, he would have murdered all of us, the king included, and who knows what would have happened to Illaria then?”
The half-elf bit her lip and looked back to the body of the man who had given her a family, agency, and power when she was just a weak, orphaned outcast. Then she looked back to the amulet in her palms, and a tear slid down the bridge of her aquiline nose.
I could see how much this terrible revelation hurt her, and I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms, but then Cayla spoke.
“I am concerned about what may happen to Illaria still,” the princess said with a frown.
Aurora and King Temin looked at her in puzzlement.
“What do you mean?” the king asked. “He is dead. The kingdom is safe.”
“But what of his master?” I questioned, and Cayla looked to me with a nod.
“Precisely,” she replied gravely. “Abrus admitted that someone else was involved, someone who was in charge. He called him a ‘master.’ That means there is more to this than just Abrus trying to usurp the king’s authority and grab power. And what of the attacks in my own kingdom? What purpose would Abrus have in attacking a small nation of farmers?”
“Fear mongering?” I offered. “He was using Cedis to put more pressure on the king so that Temin would declare war on the Nalnorans more readily.”
“Perhaps,” Cayla said with a frown. “Regardless, with all that has happened, I must return to my kingdom. My father needs to know what has transpired, and we need to prepare ourselves for any retaliation from this mysterious master.”
“Illaria must prepare, too,” Temin declared, and then his brown eyes met mine. They were more serious and intense than I have ever seen them. “Now more than ever I need your assistance, Mason Flynt. If in fact there are dark, ancient, magical forces working against my kingdom, I need however many weapons you can give me as quickly as possible.”
“I can meet with the royal blacksmith before sundown,” I said with a nod. “The Oculus’s as well.”
“No,” Temin said sharply, and he frowned severely. “No one from the Order can be involved with the production of the weapons.”
“With all due respect sir,” I began, “I believe Abrus acted alone. The rest of the Order mages are loyal to Illaria, to you. If you start dividing your citizens, treating them suspiciously or poorly, that is what is going to weaken your kingdom, sir. You cannot let your anger lead to rash decisions.”
I could tell that Temin wanted to argue, but then he merely sighed and rubbed tiredly at his face.
“You speak both logic and truth,” the king grumbled. He then met my eyes squarely. “So, then, what would you have me do?”
Something in my chest preened at the king asking me for advice, but I shoved down my pride. Now wasn’t the time.
“Help me gather all the blacksmiths in Serin by tonight,” I replied firmly. “Send out a royal decree or something. I will give them my schematics for the weapons and also the machinery and molds so they can begin making pieces for themselves by tomorrow.”
“Very well,” the king agreed with a nod, “what else?”
“You must speak to the mages of the Order and inform them what has happened,” I said gravely.
“Me?” Temin looked surprised. “Shouldn’t that come from you or Defender Solana?”
“We can accompany you, but you need to be the one to speak,” I said resolutely. “There is already a divide between the Order and the other, non-magical citizens of Illaria. If you do not try to bridge that divide now, it will only worsen. What you and everyone in your kingdom need to remember is that the mages are still your people, King Temin. You must care for them just as if they were like all the rest of your subjects.”
The king sighed. “Alright, I see your point. Anything else?”
“Yes,” I said as I raised my chin defiantly, “you must let me and Aurora accompany Cayla to Cedis.”
“Mason, we are needed here,” Aurora argued as she spoke up once more. She still looked a little lost, but some of the fierce warrior I had first met in the woods had returned to her face. “Illaria, Serin, and the Order need us during this… time of transition.”
“I know,” I replied gently, “but we’ve taken care of the immediate problem here in Illaria. With Abrus dead, whoever this master is will probably need to reassess and regroup. In that time, the blacksmiths will have Temin’s men armed to the teeth, but Cedis is still vulnerable. We have to help them.”
I looked back to King Temin and added, “And perhaps we will find more answers in Cedis. Answers like who this master is and what other nefarious plots he might have lurking in the shadows.”
Temin frowned, and a vein pulsed at his temple. I could tell he was torn.
“Three days,” he finally announced at length. “Remain in Illaria three days to oversee the start of production with the blacksmiths. Then, you have my blessing to travel to Cedis and find some answers.”
I looked back over to Cayla. “Is this agreeable?”
“I should return now,” she mused with a worried expression, “and you can follow after you have finished.”
“Or,” I offered, “you could also wait here in Illaria, and at the end of the three days, I’ll have my mechanical steed ready for travel. You’ll still reach Cedis quicker, even if you wait.”
The king
look puzzled at my mention of a ‘mechanical steed,’ but I didn’t offer any further explanation.
Cayla bit her lip as she considered my offer. Her eyes went first to Abrus’ body, then to the basilisk’s, and then toward the back of the workshop where my bike’s frame was hidden.
“Okay,” the princess finally agreed, “I will wait, and we will travel together.”
“Then we have an accord,” Temin declared and clapped me on the shoulder.
Chapter 16
Before we returned to the capital, the first thing we had to take care of was Abrus and his betrayal. Since we did not know if there was still rune magic tied to the Lux Mage’s corpse, we decided we couldn’t risk bringing it back with us to Serin. At the very least, we gave him the dignity of a funeral pyre before Aurora, stiff-lipped and with her emerald eyes as cold and sharp as glass, burned his bones to ashes.
I did tuck his strange crimson amulet into my pocket though. It could possibly give us more answers in the future.
We all then returned to the city. Temin gave us the courtesy to see to our injuries and find new clothes and a hot meal before he announced a royal summons to the castle courtyard. He sent a veritable army of couriers and page boys into the city with his decree: anyone and everyone, even the poorest in the tradesmen’s quarter, who could make the journey to the castle was called to attend the royal announcement at sundown. This also included the mages of the Order.
“Wouldn’t it be more prudent to solely invite the nobility? It will not be very… comfortable if half of the tradesmen appear. The castle courtyard is only so big, sire, you must think of the smell! A-and the potential diseases of course,” one of Temin’s advisors fretted in the king’s council chambers an hour after we had returned covered in blood and ash. I couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he was a small and nervous fellow, and after the day I had, he grated on my nerves.
“This news will affect all of Serin and Illaria,” Temin declared firmly as he glared at his advisor. “The people, all the people, deserve to know what has happened and what may come in the near future.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” the advisor simpered with a bow, and that was the end of the discussion.
While the general summons for the sunset decree filtered throughout the capital, I was to meet with the royal blacksmiths in King Temin’s castle. So, after the king had provided us with food and a change of clothes, that is where I went.
Or tried to at least.
“You should accompany us to the healer first,” Cayla argued with a frown as we stood at a fork in the castle’s hallway. She and Aurora were headed to the infirmary so the healer could examine their injuries.
“I’ll join you later,” I reassured her. “I want to speak with the blacksmiths as soon as possible so that they can begin production.”
“An hour’s delay would not matter,” Cayla said. She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled me with a disapproving stare.
“Exactly,” I replied with my best cajoling grin, “so I’ll see the healer in an hour.”
The princess narrowed her eyes at me, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I’m alright,” I said as I reached out and gently touched her arm. “You and Aurora were unconscious for a time and have head injuries. That needs examining. I’m only scraped and bruised, so I think I’ll make it.”
“Fine,” the raven-haired beauty pouted, “but do not come crying to me when you pass out because of your own stubbornness.”
With that, she spun on her heel and marched down the hall toward the infirmary. I found myself a bit distracted by her long legs and pert ass, but then Aurora spoke, and I turned to face the elven woman.
“She is only worried for you,” Aurora remarked as she pushed herself off the wall a few feet away. The half-elf had been quiet and reserved since we returned to the capital. It didn’t sit right with me.
“Like I told her, I’m fine,” I said with a frown, “I’m more worried about her… and you.” I reached out and gently pulled the blue-haired maiden to my side. “How are you doing?”
“Minimal damage,” Aurora shrugged as she averted her eyes. “I am already healing.” She gestured to the bruise below her eyes that had already begun to fade and the split in her lip that had almost completely healed over.
“That isn’t what I’m referring to,” I said quietly as I settled my hands on her hips. I reached up tentatively and cupped the half-elf’s beautiful face. She looked like she wanted to pull away for a moment, but then the fight left her, and she turned her face to nuzzle into my palm.
“I am still attempting to process it all,” she murmured quietly. “I have known Abrus almost all my life. To think that this entire time he’s been plotting something like this…” She shook her head sadly and then lifted her emerald eyes to mine. “I should have noticed something. I should have been able to stop him.”
“You were close to him,” I reasoned as I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Too close to see his faults. This burden does not fall on you. He had the entire kingdom fooled.”
“I do not think that makes things better,” the half-elf sighed and then stepped away.
“What can I do for you?” I asked with a frown. “Name it, and it’s yours. I hate to see you hurt like this.”
Aurora smiled tiredly at me. “Just continue as you are, Mason. Your presence alone gives me strength. I will recover. It will just take some time.”
“Well, I’m here for whatever and whenever you need me,” I promised solemnly.
“Thank you,” the blue-haired maiden replied. She rose to her tiptoes and kissed me gently. She tasted of salt and ashes. When she pulled away, she studied me carefully and added, “You are a good man, Mason Flynt.”
“I try to be,” I responded with a grin. Then, I nudged the half-elf carefully down the hall in the direction Cayla had disappeared. “Now, off you go to the healers. I will see you after I meet with the blacksmiths.”
“You should take these with you then.” Aurora reached out and pressed something into my palm. When I looked, three silver berries stood out stark against my skin.
“Tiorlin berries?” I asked puzzled.
“The last,” Aurora replied with a sly smile as she began to walk backward down the hall. “I believe you will need them more than I today.”
My sore and drained body almost wept in confirmation.
“You’re the best,” I called after the blue-haired maiden sincerely, and then I popped the berries into my mouth as I prepared to face the rest of the day from hell.
Thankfully, the palace blacksmiths were anything but dull. There were four of them in total, all burly, bearded, mountains of men who stared at me unimpressed when I introduced myself. We stood across from each other in one of their workshops, and around us apprentices kept the forges going as they went about their tasks.
“Hello,” I said with a respectful nod. “My name is Mason Flynt. I--”
“We know who you are, metal mage,” one of the blacksmiths interrupted. He had a mane and beard of bright red hair and a scar that bisected his large nose. “Odger told us of your powers, and how you commandeered his workshop for days on end.”
The ginger-haired blacksmith leveled me with an accusatory stare as he added, “That better not be why we have been summoned here.”
I winced at the mention of the Oculus’s blacksmith and waved my hands. “No, no. I’m not here to take your shops, although I should mention I returned Odger’s to him in prime condition.”
None of the blacksmiths looked particularly swayed by that statement.
“So why are we here then?” the ginger grunted as he crossed his tree trunk arms over his barrel chest. I guessed he was their unofficial spokesman.
“You are here because a new threat has come to Illaria,” I replied seriously. I stood up a little straighter and adjusted the strap of the leather bag I carried. “And the king has commissioned more weapons to be made in preparation
. I’m sure you have heard of the beast attacks in the southern counties.”
The ginger-haired blacksmith frowned. “Aye, we have, but the Order has been tasked to investigate those. What kinds of weapons could we possibly make that is more powerful than their magic?”
“I’m glad you asked,” I said with a grin. I slipped the long, leather bag off my shoulder and set it down on the table beside me. With perhaps a little more flair than necessary, I revealed the several unloaded rifles and revolvers inside.
The blacksmiths leaned forward curiously.
“Is this the weapon you used to slay the hydra?” one of them asked, a black-haired fellow with a tight goatee.
“One and the same,” I nodded. “It also slew a basilisk several hours ago.”
The four burly men looked up at me in shock.
“How?” the ginger demanded with a skeptical look. “I see no blade or poison.”
“All the answers to your questions are in these pages.” I dug to the bottom of the bag and extracted Elias’s notes and schematics. “Everything you need to know about production and assembly.”
The ginger took the papers from my outstretched hand and flipped through them while the others read over his shoulder. After a moment, the ginger looked back up at me with something almost like respect in his eyes.
“You made these yourself?” he asked.
“With a little help from the watchmaker Elias Sayer,” I admitted. “He understood the finer mechanics better than I did, but the concept was mine, a vision gifted to me by the gods, and I crafted all the pieces by hand. Obviously, you will have to use more traditional methods, but I can make each of you molds for the pieces, and I can show you how the weapons operate and what materials you’ll need to make them deadly. They also run on a special type of incendiary fuel, a powder. It’s made from several different ingredients, and I will give you the recipe.”
The blacksmiths studied the pages again and then shared a look between them. They seemed to come to some silent consensus because the ginger nodded and then met my gaze squarely.