They turned to a handsome man with dark brown hair slicked back. The dark eyes hid under a heavy brow, and a full goatee surrounded thin lips. He looked regal in a handsome green coat with a high collar that revealed a golden torc encircled around his neck, a common Aidenmarian piece for Mages and royals. Clenched in his hand was a black Castrofax made in a wavering circlet. “Pike Bronwen, the man what made the most feared items in Mage histories.”
“They have all been lost.”
“Nay, naught all them. Jaden has some Castrofax ac a few other relics. I’m sure of it.”
Across the atrium stood another painting of a pretty man with a chiseled face and dark deep-set green eyes. His blond hair brushed his collar, and parted left to frame his eyes. The painting was full-size and stood as tall as Nolen. His boot crushed a human skull.
“Dorian,” Nolen stated. “Green and blond are a strange combination.”
“He’s a Gaelsin.”
Nolen raised a brow. “A what now?”
Ryker pinched his lips and brows. “From Tintagaelsing, across the Greynadaltyne Mountains.”
Nolen felt flustered. “There are no people on the other side of the mountains.”
“Boy, y’ best bet there are. There are tunnels run under the Grays par a hundred miles what used to connect the kingdoms before the Mage Wars.”
“I never knew,” Nolen whispered.
Ryker shook his head and clicked his cheek. “I’m right amazed at how much knowledge has been lost over this last Age.”
He pointed to the last portrait of a small woman. She was Shalabane with dark olive skin, black hair and a wide mouth. Four ribbons adorned her forehead, laced back into her hair in bands of red, blue, green, and gray. She had a sour look and wrinkles around her eyes and lips, the eldest of them Nolen judged, dressed in a loose, brocaded shirt with patterns of flames through it.
“Evony Mitexi was as fast as she was mad. She controlled all Elements but Spirit. She had a right touch of madness t’ her, but she knew how t’ use the Elements, t’ create pain in ways Spirit Mages could never attempt. Loyal, she was ac did what I told her.”
“Why was she mad?”
“Elements as powerful as hers take the toll on the mind if ne handled well, ac she did ne handle it well. Your Mage would like follow the same fate, since y’ don’t know how t’ manage power as great as his in this Age.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Where do we all come from? Y’ do know the stories of the first Mages, aye? Don’t be a-telling me, y’ haven’t been told the histories.”
“I know them, but they are just myths.”
“All myths come from truth, boy.” He wet his lips with wine. “In the time before times there were men, ac there were the Elements. The wind, she raged without control, ac the ocean broke twice daily by the moon; fire burned without boundaries, the green things spread over all, ac the people perished young while their spirits filled the ground.”
Nolen nodded. “And so the people created the Elements to control them.”
Ryker smacked Nolen across the back of his head. “Ack! Nay, that is ne the tale. It was the Elements what created themselves. Listen more ac speak less.” He motioned to a hallway where a set of tapestries hung, and as they walked he began the story again. “The Elements knew they were too powerful to rule without help, so they banded together to create six in the image of man ac filled one after t’other with one Element.”
He stopped before a tapestry with six figures stitched in various positions. “Wind whipped herself together t’ form a woman with pale skin, silvery hair, ac pale eyes who moved more gracefully than any creature ever born.” He pointed to a pale figure standing on a mountain, her hands raised and her dress billowing. “Earth drew a woman tan ac dark hair with black eyes like coals. Water used the moon t’ pull a lady from the tides of a rocky coast. A red-haired pale beauty with the ocean in her eyes, lithe ac winsome whose tongue spoke in songs.” He gestured to the two people in the tapestry, the lady cracking the soil open, and the woman standing on the waves.
“Fire drew from deepest depths of the earth where the flames burn hottest, ac formed a man with black hair ac eyes like emeralds, dusky skin ac powerful limbs. Spirit pulled together a piece of each living being, ac wrapped them together t’ form a stout man with brown hair ac eyes like night.” The man picked out in white in the tapestry hung in the air, his arms spread wide.
“They said he fell from the stars.”
“He was formed in the sky. T’ some he rightly well had fallen from the stars. Lastly, Void raised a man from the shadows, created with the energies of the dead spirits, with white hair ac eyes ac black skin, a fearsome creature t’ behold.” The dark man in the tapestry stood out with his striking eyes, standing proudly in a corner of the piece.
Ryker moved them to another tapestry where it seemed something terrible had happened. “We named them by their Elements. They bred together, birthing litters by the dozens in short time ac never aging. Years passed ac the Mages, children of the Elements, spread across all the lands. Many bore multiple Elements, ac there was a time when some controlled all six. But a day came when Spirit ac Void disputed against each other. Opposites rarely agree.”
The Elements were scattered in the tapestry, running or flying away. Void with the black skin and white hair fought with Spirit in the pale clothes. It seemed Spirit had struck the final blow.
“Spirit consumed his opposite ac absorbed the power of Void. On that day, all who wielded Void ac lacked Spirit dropped dead. Today, all Spirit wielders can use Void once they opened it, par one could ne be without the other. Though Spirit thought himself clever killing his opposite, he was cursed t’ spend eternity with what he hated. Y’ say in this Age what there is ne greater Element from one t’ the other, but Spirit is the most powerful because y’ have the capabilities of Void.”
Nolen studied the tapestries. “I have never seen a dark-skinned person.”
“That was because they all fell dead that day.” He pointed to a strange map in one corner and a broken map in the opposite. “Earth broke the land ac drove it apart t’ protect her people. Water raised the seas to form the Dahrry Sea and the Dorna Cel. On that day Arconian was created when a tear in the sea floor ripped up fires from the earth. Air whipped the winds around the Greynadaltynes t’ make them impassable t’ protect her kind. T’ this day y’ can still see the markings in the Mages t’ know which Element they sprung from. Y’ are Spirit born, as are most, though y’ have a touch of Fire in y’.”
“How would you know all this? Were…were you there?”
“Boy, par all y’ know, I verily may have been.”
Casimir sat behind the desk that entertained hundreds of Head Mages before him. The rich dark wood carved flowing vines to match the grain. Bits of lapis and mother of pearl inlaid in the carvings, and atop it was a well-polished white marble slab with several holes cut through for ink wells, oil wells, and writing utensil holders. Casimir would miss the old desk and the matching chair set with crimson velvet.
What was left of the Council stood before him. Lady Aisling and Queen Challis could not make the journey, and Kieran and Selene were dead, leaving Galloway, Adelaide, Markus, Dagan, Penny, Lewis and Secondhand Lael to make the decisions. Some were still shaken from Ryker Slade’s visit, but it strengthened the resolve of others. Casimir rotated a gold band studded with uncut emeralds between his hands subconsciously as the remaining few took their seats.
“I have dallied too long,” he said at last and set the crown in his lap. “And I fear we may be too late. The only hope we have to fight Ryker Slade has always been Mage Gabriel.”
The room stirred and Lewis quickly stood. He was the oldest Councilman and managed the castle’s infirmary. Brilliant as they came, brilliance often had a price, and his was social awkwardness. For a man who seemed usually distant, he was focused for the moment. “My lord, you cannot propose we help him find the Silex. It would undo all
Mage Gabriel could hope to complete before he began.”
Casimir nodded. “True, but that is not what I propose.” Lewis remained standing, his old eyes attentive. “We are going to kill Gabriel.”
The room fell silent but for Penny’s sharp gasp.
“It is widely known no Mage can be returned from the dead, but that is what the histories have told us,” Casimir began and stood, his knees creaking. “What your history books do not say is death can be undone. We do not know why the Silex was created, but I can tell you its greatest resource is life restoration. Yes, it imbues Class Ten power on the bearer, but death can only be undone with all Elements—and most especially Spirit’s hidden sister Void.” He paused to give them a moment to absorb his words. “That was one of the reasons Void was banned, and we speak not of it. We need to find the Silex, kill Gabriel, and return him to life without his binds if we want a hope against Ryker.”
Galloway rocked back on his heels. “Do you have books on the Silex’s location as well?”
“No,” Casimir replied with a nod. “I do not need books. The Silex’s location came to me five years ago in the hands of Princess Kindle Novacula.” He slowly paced around to the front of his desk and leaned back against it. “Kindle is a weak Mage, only a Class Two, so she knew she would have to work hard to achieve respect as a Mage. She was apprenticed in the library working in the restricted section when she came across a bookmark in a tome on ancient passageways in castles. It was the bookmark itself that set the bearing and marked location.”
“You know where the Silex is.” Penny said breathlessly, a tinge of fear in her round eyes.
“I know where the Silex is.” The energy in the room tensed as everyone yearned for the question answered, but nobody dared ask. No matter, he would not tell them; not with Ryker bent to kill for the information. He knew his life was jeopardized by revealing this knowledge, but they had to know. “We must travel to Anatoly City as soon as possible and bring Gabriel with us.”
“Do you know how to use the Silex to return the dead?” Markus asked, leaning against the cold hearth.
“A Spirit and Void pattern will make it work.”
“Have you opened Void?”
Casimir felt his insides tighten at the idea of it. Void was not an easily attainable Element. The way to unlock Void had been cut and burned from history books. No one could attempt it. “No, but you must ensure I am the one who kills Gabriel in the end to make everything work.” He looked at Lael. “Do we have enough Class Sixes to sidestep yet?”
“No, we are missing a Fire Mage.”
“We cannot waste any more days. We must be on the road day after next with as many strong Mages we can afford to leave the protection of the walls. Can I count on you to rally the Mages?”
They nodded slowly. He knew they did not want to leave the safety of Jaden, and he truthfully did not want to either, but he had the protection of generations to think about. No man expected to die when they awoke on their final day, and Casimir had lived a full, rewarding life with no desire to leave any time soon. He twirled the emerald-studded crown in his hands. His fear of death kept him from acting for so long, but death was much closer than he admitted. He knew what he must do from the moment Lael reported Gabriel’s fate, but Casimir feared the outcome and the Arch Mage with a vendetta. At this rate, it was likely Gabriel was already broken. With a broken Class Ten, he did not know if he could rely on Gabriel, but he had no one else to believe in.
“You are free to leave. Lael, abide with me a moment.”
The Council filed out, some of their energy sapped. The task they had was daunting, for so many Mages had come to Jaden to escape the lands, not traverse back out to them. Lael stepped to the center of the room patiently. The man had grown leaner over the past weeks. He was already slender and hard, well fit despite the hours spent sitting behind a desk.
“We need to discuss what will happen if I fail,” Casimir said lowly. He could see the doubt skirt across Lael’s face. He crossed the room to a set of shelves and pulled out a small chest. “You will find my will here, my selection for the next Head Mage, and letters for him.” Lael gave a sad nod. “I am planning something, Lael, and you need to know of it.”
Lael nodded. “Where would you like to be buried? With the Head Mages or your family?”
“Put me beside my sweet Evelyn.” After all these years, he never forgot her fair face, ebony hair, and the way her eyes would fix on his like firebrands and burn straight into his core. Her voice had faded from his memory long ago, but he remembered her smile. He took the Head Mage Seat because of her—because she was no longer there, and he had to distract himself somehow. Their child lasted but a few hours before he died as well. For all his strength and skill as a Class Six healer, Casimir did not know how to mend kidney diseases. After her skin and eyes yellowed, she maintained just enough energy to birth the child, all the while whispering reassurances to him. It was forty years ago, but the wound was still as raw as the day it was cut. “Yes, put me beside her.”
Robyn and her party pushed hard for two days, stopping early the second evening. They set up a ragged camp to warm by the fires, passing wine and meat between them.
Robyn had grown to know the men a little, learning their histories and reasons for joining. Word had not spread that she was the Princess, but they knew she was in charge and would supplement their trials with coin. She earned their respect by shooting the doe that fed them tonight.
General Calsifer set his bedroll beside hers as her cousins and the contortionist girl made their beds nearby. A spit with a leg of venison already crackled over the fire. It dripped oil into the flames, filling the air with mouthwatering scents. Robyn slipped off her soft lace-up boots and sat back on her mat, sore from riding for so long. The hobbled horses milled around behind her, munching rhythmically as night set.
Calsifer cut her a haunch of meat, and she tore apart loaves brought from the manor. “We are making good time.” She did not think so, but she appreciated his optimistic thinking.
The same question had been gnawing at her for days, and she finally worked up the courage to ask, “Do you think Gabriel will be broken by the time we arrive?” If she arrived to find him broken it would change her plans. She wondered what she would do if she found the man she loved an empty shell, his insides scrambled and drained.
Calsifer took an extra-long time chewing his bread and even swallowed a draught of water before glancing at her. “It is possible,” he replied in his deep voice. “Prince Nolen has a knack for pain infliction and domination, but your Mage has a will of his own and knows you are safe.” Robyn knew the comment meant the General wanted to stay out of Anatoly City, but she was not about to back out now.
“What will we do if he is?”
The General fell silent for a while, picking his words carefully. “We would order him to come with us, and he would. That is how you will know if he is truly broken.”
She nodded with a soft exhale. Andolyn shoved several onions into the coals and left the camp while Talon looked to be already asleep. In the other circles someone was telling a rousing story, and two others laughed. “You don’t like the Shalabane boys, do you?” she said more as a statement.
“Am I so transparent?” he asked, and she shrugged. “I have no love for Shalabane.”
She did not either. They were a sad race led by cruel Emperors who constantly sent ships to her shores. She did not know the full extent of it, but the General had hinted to some wharf towns overrun by colonies of the olive-skinned people with their sharp language. “Why?”
“I suppose since you will be Queen, you should know my story, but do not let it sway your opinion. Did you know I am a married man?”
The question took her aback. She never remembered seeing him with a woman or ever heard of a lady Calsifer. She shook her head.
“I married Daneya in my prime, twenty three years ago last spring. This was back when I was a Captain-Commander, before your father
King Eirian began his battles against Shalaban. We had a small estate on a good spot of land on the Ellonine in the Glover region. Do you know it? She gave me a son, a sweet lad with a baby-face and a laugh to melt your heart. We were so happy, but that was before the skirmishes.
“I accompanied your father on many battles along the coast and watched as week by week the Shalabane ships sailed further up the Ellonine and the Tributine Rivers. I knew Daneya could be in danger; it was always forefront of my mind. We drove them back eventually as you know, and I did not return until the battle of the Red Moon that took your father’s life.” He paused and stared into the flames. “I returned to an empty home. The door was broken in, the place raided, Daneya gone. I found my son who was six years of age with the closet neighbors. They told me Shalabane raiders ran a barge onto a sandbank miles downriver and pillaged to cut their losses before their ship came free days later.”
He picked at his bread and put his elbows on his crossed knees. “I never found her. I have nothing but loathing for Shalabane. I hope she died that night, but I lay awake sometimes wondering if she is still alive, tortured, torn from her life, and hoping I come for her.”
She sat in horrified silence. Shalabane soldiers had a reputation for being disorderly and cruel. She could only imagine the end the poor woman came to. “Was your son wounded?”
“No, he ran miles inland to a plantation of good people. We had a serving woman at the time, and she was found in the river downstream with her throat cut.” He took a swig of water from a skin and looked at it as if wishing it was something stronger. “I hope Daneya is still alive for my sake, but for her sake I hope she died that night.”
“How long has it been?”
He thought back. “You were two when your father died, so it was near eighteen years ago. She had sandy hair, a bit like yours but not as yellow.”
Robyn had little appetite now, and she searched for a new subject. “Did you see my father die?” It was another question she had few answers to. Her father had been a well-loved man by those who spoke of him, if not a little proud, and she knew only that he died when a castle he defended was breeched. All she had of him, so she was told, was his dark flashy eyes unlike her mother’s which were faint hazel.
The Castrofax (Book 1) Page 27