The Magus (A Chronicle of Rebirth Book 1)

by J. M. Fletcher

  “I think that can be accommodated, if that is your wish.” He held out his hand indicating to keep walking with him.

  She resumed following him. “It is- I think I can handle it alone.”

  Elian led her past the final guard post leading down to the royal balcony and the Magus. “I believe that. You didn’t break down and become a mess; you handled it and got through the day with great strength.” Continuing from the stairs to the open space of the balcony the moon rose. “When you go to supper this eve, have trust in our Magus, and don’t have any fear in telling him things.” In a comforting manner, he put his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, and you’ll feel better for it.”

  “I’ll heed your words, and I’ll let my evening with our Magus go where it will.” She smiled “Thank you Elian,”

  “You’re welcome,” he gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Have a good eve and be well.”

  “You too, Elian.” Watching Elian ascend the stairs in the last fading light, Nelina turned back toward the light coming from the tower where Ru’ark was waiting for her. The sounds of the day were distant from the royal balcony, and the water cascading from the fountains were more prevalent in her ears as she passed under the arched halls toward the Magus door.

  The guard opened the door to the chamber. “Madame,”

  Walking in, Nelina stopped in front of the table with a light curtsy, unsure of how she should act. “Magus,” she heard the guard close the door behind her.

  Ru’ark already seated at the table had been waiting for her. “Ah, there you are Sweetling,” His deep blue eyes drank in her appearance while motioning to the chair near his. “Do sit down and join me,” It was his first time seeing her in the blue dress embroidered with his sigil and accented in silver trimmings which was as a close match to his own robes.

  “Thank you,” she sat down noticing the plates and cups differed greatly from the wood or metal ones, which were the standard. “What are these made of?”

  He could hear the curiosity in her voice “Agate, is the name of the stone used to fashion the plates, and the goblets were created from the Sands of Valaier, a city long gone before the first brick of Danthamore’s walls were laid.”

  “They are beautiful,” Although she was happy to be at the evening meal with him, she was going to have to talk to him about Gwen.

  “Are you hungry?” He started filling his own plate with roasted hen, blackberry sauce, buttered bread, and carrots.

  “I am, it has been a long day, and it is one that I need to speak to you about.” It was a start to broaching the subject of Gwen.

  “You should eat,” he picked up her plate and filled it with identical fare to his own. While holding her plate his eyes flashed pure black triggering the properties within it, and then set it back down in front of her. “And, yes, we have a bit to talk about to say the least, but you need not fret over it either.”

  She relaxed a little feeling more at ease. She tasted the chicken, which was a perfect temperature and flavor along with the other foods on her plate. “This tastes exceptional.”

  “Good,” Ru’ark picked up her goblet filling it with a sweet red wine, his eyes again glazed over for a brief second to solid black orbs.

  The sweet red wine was her favorite, and after taking a hearty drink she set it down with a grin. “Unless I’m a woman who is claimed by madness, I swear by the God of All that the goblet cools the wine, and the plates makes one’s meal better to taste.”

  “Indeed, they do, ” he laughed, “They are similar to things we have in Aghadine.”

  She ate another bite of the bird meat. “Food then, tastes this good just because of the plates?”

  “Not entirely, a touch of my energy is required.” He drank some of his wine then resumed eating his chicken. “There’s this too.” His fingertips moved as a few thin tendrils of smoke slunk across the floor to touch the painted clay pot in the far corner of the room. Immediately, an instrumental melody sprung forth, which echoed from the spiraled pot. The tune itself was nothing like she had heard before with its gentle flow accentuated with sharp intricate breaks. To her, the instrument sounded similar to a lute or in other lands, what was known as a paddar which was a favorite of minstrels and performers.

  She watched carefully, and this time she caught it, his eyes glossed over darker than the obsidian stone of the palace. Although it was disconcerting, she did not care. “Your eyes, are you okay when that happens to you?”

  “Of course I am, it’s just how my energy weavings work.” Ru’ark bit into his bread.

  “Oh, well, good, I wouldn’t want it to hurt you.” She was fond of the cooked carrots with butter. “The music by the way is much better than what I’ve heard in the Inns before.”

  “I’m rather fond of it myself.” He drank his wine, savoring both the flavor and the moment. “Tell me about your day.”

  She swallowed down her bite of carrots. “My day was horrible.” Folding her hands in her lap, she stopped eating. “Lucas tried to force himself on me, and your slave Gwen was a part of it.”

  Picking up his cup, he washed down another piece of his chicken. “Yet, you are sitting here rather untouched by it.”

  “Mayhap I’m supposed to be more upset.” She bit her lower lip. “I was crying earlier but I stopped. Elian talked to me, he helped me to use my armor as a point of strength and to finish the day’s training.” Shrugging, she picked up her goblet mulling over if she was fond of it. These were nice, but if she drank what she wanted to, it would give away how anxious she was on the inside; with a wooden cup you could not see through it did not betray that. “If I was a man in a fight, I’d be expected to get over it and move on,” sipping her wine she set it down. “Letting it tear me apart isn’t going to help me heal.”

  “It isn’t, is it?” Her response gave him his answer and he raised his voice. “Guard,”

  The man outside the door was one of Ru’ark’s personal guards. “Magus?”

  “Fetch me, Gwen,” he tasted the cooked carrots.

  Nelina unsure of what he was doing went back to eating her meal.

  The guard wasted no time in returning with Gwen and stood behind her. “Gwen, as you requested Magus.”

  “Ah, yes,” His unmerciful gaze swept over Gwen. “There are disturbing charges brought forth against you and Lucas, and Lucas has paid with his own flesh thus far.”

  “Magus, it is a lie, she lies! There has been no conflict until she arrived here!” Using her hand in a sweeping motion, she pointed to Nelina. “She throws herself at Lucas,” her eyes shot over to Ru’ark. “Not to mention your Captain of the Guard, Lord Elian!”

  “Yet, the woman you accuse insists on walking with Adar, if seducing Lucas was the goal, why do that?” His sharp blue eyes cut into her demanding an answer.

  “I cannot be expected to know her mind.” Stammering, Gwen became unsure of what else to say.

  “Were you not a moment ago telling me that Nelina was throwing herself at Lucas?” He refused to tolerate another lie from her. Standing up and taking a few steps toward her, he explained her upcoming fate. “You’ll be sold to one of the slave traders who will send you into the pens. Afterward, you’ll be put up on the block.”

  “If you do that, I’ll be used so badly the whorehouses won’t take me.” Falling on her knees, she begged, “Magus, I beseech you not the pens,”

  “The pens?” Nelina was horrified. “There? You’re going to send her there?”

  “Indeed, a fitting consequence.” He could smell Gwen’s fear.

  “Does it have to be the pens, mayhap just the block instead?” The block was humiliating for a woman to endure and Nelina had feared that same thing happening to her before coming to Ru’ark.

  He smiled at Gwen letting her know that he intended to carry through with it. Turning around, he went over to Nelina and pulled his chair next to her and held her hands in his own. “You are not responsible for her going to the pens, she chose it.” He kisse
d the back of her hands. “You’re trying to take a weight on your shoulders that does not belong there. I own Gwen, not you.”

  “But the pens-” she did not get to finish making her point to him.

  He held her face in his hands. “My feelings and desires run stronger for you than they have for any other woman I have met in my life.”

  Nelina with a slight turn of her head pressed a gentle kiss into the palm of his hand.

  He gave her hand a light squeeze. “However, my decision is final, and I will hear no more about it Sweetling.”

  Nelina nodded to him, intending to remain quiet.

  Leaving Nelina, he returned to the condemned woman groveling on his floor. “Because, Gwen we both know that I’m right, you would not hesitate to put her in the pens..”

  “No, No, I could never do what you are doing to me.” Gwen still kneeling with a tear stained face pleaded, “Anything but this, Nelina help me.”

  Nelina did not intend to defend Gwen and risk losing Ru’ark’s favor, he had made it clear it was not her decision to make.

  Ru’ark held out a coin pouch and scroll detailing his ownership of Gwen to the waiting guard. “Here, give both of these to the slaver of your choice along with the pitiful creature whining at my feet.”

  “At once Magus,” The watchman yanked Gwen up by her upper arm. “Let’s get going,”

  Nelina was fixated watching the guard drag out Gwen. The moment she and Ru’ark were alone, she too stood up from the table. “If it pleases you, perhaps we could retire for the evening?”

  “I’m amicable to that.” Unlike Nelina, he had no distaste for Gwen’s upcoming suffering.

  The two after leaving the evening meal made their way to her chamber in silence.

  Ru’ark sighed. “Quiet, I see,” irritation for the first time toward her swelled inside him at her being unappreciative.

  Turning around and stepping in front of him, she forced her green eyes upward with her tears welling up. “Forgive me, I’m sorry that you had to do that because of me.”

  His resentment faded as his tone shifted to a kinder one. “Then, you understand the necessity?”

  She nodded her head. “It never would have been okay with Lucas or Gwen, no matter what I ever tried to do.” She cried harder. “Because of you, they cannot harm me anymore.”

  “I regret that they hurt you at all.” He wrapped his arms around her.

  “Elian was right, my mistake was in not coming to anyone sooner.” She held him tighter.

  “I agree with Elian, however, I also believe you have learned a lesson from it too.” His hand caressed the back of her head to comfort her.

  “I did, I swear I did,” her bloodshot eyes looked into his “I trust you,”

  “While you are beautiful to one’s sight, it is in who you are where I find your perfection and allure to be.” He wiped her tear stained cheeks. “I stand humbled by the depth of your heart and that you give it so freely to me, and me alone.”

  “I could never want anyone but you,” she broke into tears again. “I mean that,”

  “I know,” when he picked her up, she wrapped her arms around his neck leaning in against him while he carried her to the bed laying her down. “Your day has been a long and tiring one, it’s obvious you need rest.”

  “Please, stay with me.” She did not want to be alone.

  “Very well, Sweetling” He disrobed and climbed into the bed, putting his arms around her, and she curled right into him. Holding her, a part of him wished she was not who he needed her to be. While he had never intended to take a wife, he desired her like no other woman. Dreams of her as his concubine in Aghadine found him when he slept most nights. In his waking hours in this new world, he often indulged thoughts about what their life could be together. Embracing her, he closed his eyes, letting the smell of her hair and perfumes lead him into drifting off to sleep.

  “No! You can’t!” screamed Gwen.

  “Yer going in there, the Magus demanded it,” The slaver, a friend of Johan’s, did not intend to jeopardize losing the Magus’ favor since Johan had left slave trading altogether.

  She had never been this close to the heavy well-worn timbers of the pens. Many arms reached out in desperation clawing at her while being forced closer by the slave trader. The men in the large cage were eager to have at Gwen, since women as pretty as she were not provided to them, but instead sold to the whore houses.

  Gwen stumbled after the slaver’s hand pushed her into the cramped slave cage. Immediately, dirty hands touched her hair and breasts as the different men fondled her. “Stop!” She attempted to bat their advances away to no avail.

  “I get her first,” One of the bigger men grabbed at her and tore off her dress.

  “Don’t!” She pleaded, “Or at least you, but not the others, I won’t fight you.”

  “You’re not going to fight me anyway.” He held on to her arms pushing her up against the bars of the pen to have his way with her.

  The slaver laughed amused, “Extra food for you men if you keep her good for the block on the morrow.”

  After the first man was done with her, the rest of the men all took their turns after that. The promise of a good meal was worth keeping her physically intact. Before too long Gwen lost count of who was ravaging her, with the hands of those waiting their turn constantly grabbing at her exposed flesh. The night dragged on, and she was grateful when the rising sun streaked the sky with the early morning colors of dawn. It ended when the slaver pushed the last man off her.

  “Time for the block for you, you’ll be the first one of mine up there today.” He pulled Gwen still naked outside of the pen. “They didn’t leave a stitch of clothing on you, did they?”

  She winced her body was sore from all the rough handling. Two of the slaver’s men rinsed her off for the block cleaning her mud caked hair and wiping her clean from her night in the pen. It was a short walk to the wooden block in the center of the Slave Square. Although it was early yet, a crowd began to gather waiting for the first auctioning. “I’ve been on the block before,”

  “Good, then ya won’t give me trouble, born to the slave caste, eh?” Chuckling, he put the rope through the steel circle part of her collar and brought her up to the small, raised wooden platform. There was already a crowd gathered, and a few buyers came up to inspect his newest item for sale.

  Gwen stood still as different potential owners checked over her body, teeth, and hair as it was a grab and buy auction.

  “I’ll buy her, I’ve got fifty crowns if you sell her to me.” Tristan had been sent here by the Archcount Doughal with explicit instructions to buy the girl.

  “That’s it?” Chuckling, the slaver slapped Gwen’s raw bottom. “You aren’t getting any of that, I got paid more for putting her in the pen.”

  The Archcount was expecting Tristan to get the best price, but others from around the platform had bid against him.

  “Eighty crowns here!” shouted one man excited.

  “I’ll give you a hundred crowns for her!” was the retort by another short, balding man also seeking to purchase Gwen.

  The bidding crept higher and higher, for a chance to claim the woman who was once the property of the Magus. Everyone, including Tristan knew what the Magus had paid for his most recent slave from Johan.

  A counteroffer to the other two yelled out. “One hundred and sixty crowns!”

  “Two hundred crowns for the plump trollop!” Was another person’s voice joining in trying to buy Gwen.

  After hearing the last man, Tristan slipped out the pouch the Archcount had given him. His orders were clear to acquire the woman. He tossed the pouch up to the slaver. “These should close the bidding since conch pearls, are the rarest to come by.”

  The slaver nodded, holding the small purse with the six pearls tight in the palm of his hand, his eyes grew wide, “She’s yours, for all of the pearls.”

  “Aye, they are all yours.” Tristan helped Gwen down from the block as
the next slaver moved to take her place.

  The trader unlocked Gwen’s collar and signed a scroll. “And the owner’s name?”

  “Leave it blank.” Tristan undoing his cloak, put it around Gwen’s shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she clutched the cloak tighter to cover her nakedness.

  “There you are,” he handed the scroll to Tristan “G’Day”

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Tristan helped Gwen walk as they both left the slave quarter to take her to Lucas.

  While being led away from the bustling activity for the next sale she glanced up to Tristan. “You’re taking me to Lucas?”

  He did his best to reassure Gwen. “In time, you’ll see your Lucas. Unfortunately, he has a great deal of healing to do. Today, you’ll meet your new benefactor Archcount Doughal.”

  Agnar and Celeste were having their morning meal in the royal solar as they often did. The morning air was cooler than the last few days since the summer months were winding down. The royal solar displayed furnishings and finery more lavish than the ones in the eastern part of the palace which was held by the Magus Ru’ark. Many of the vases and artworks were from hundreds of years ago, having survived through generations of the Kings and Queens of Danthamore. The edge of the reddish brown wood table gleamed as the morning sunlight shone through the window. Finely woven tapestries lined the walls depicting scenes from times of the past.

  Agnar, with brown shoulder length hair peppered with gray, sat dressed in his royal dark blue riding attire for his morning horse ride. It was something he liked to do after taking the morning meal. Celeste, wore an extravagant pale blue silk gown with sapphires adorning her neck and a matching gold crown also trimmed in sapphires with her chestnut brown hair pinned up underneath. The two were almost finished eating when the Captain of the Royal Guard, Orson, requested an audience with them.

  Orson was an older man, well into his late-middle life years with short white hair. His polished plate armor and black and gold cloak signified his position as the Captain of the Royal Guard. He bowed respectfully, “Your Majesties, A moment of your time if I may?”