Bloodmines: Cheryl Matthynssens

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  “And yet you took three days to arrive,” Luthian pointed out as he crossed out a line that did not quite deliver the tone that he wanted to sway the council.

  “I was not able to disappear without losing my cover as the carefree enchanter. I had to leave the village properly, and leave my wagon hidden.” Henrick moved to the wine decanter without asking for permission. He poured himself a glass and drank it all down.

  Luthian was scowling at Henrick’s continued lack of proper decorum. “If you were not my brother…” he began as he laid down his quill.

  “Yes, yes. I would burn where I stand.” Henrick waved a hand dismissively then refilled his glass. “You know how draining travel spells are. Surely you would not deny me a bit of respite.” He smiled charmingly at Luthian and took a slow draw from the glass. “Now, what is so urgent that you demanded my immediate return? Are we under attack?” Henrick sounded almost hopeful.

  “It is Alador.” Luthian’s arms crossed as he watched his brother carefully.

  Henrick immediately sobered his banter. “What happened?” he asked with genuine concern.

  Luthian noted the change. Perhaps he could manage his brother through Henrick’s care of his bastard son. “Aorun chose to eliminate Alador, despite his relationship to me.” Luthian’s announcement was purposefully misleading. He wondered if Henrick knew the level of power his son would possess once it reached its full potential.

  “Alador is dead?” Henrick’s face had paled as he lowered himself into a nearby chair.

  Luthian watched closely, noting the changes in his brother’s tone and manner. “Aorun is the one that is dead. Alador is barely better off. Before you ask, it is not a matter of healing, but rather one of magical drain.”

  “So Alador is Trench Lord?” Henrick asked. He slowly took a sip of wine as his eyes searched Luthian’s.

  “No. Aorun’s second, Sordith, intervened, and was the one to actually overcome the Trench Lord. That whelp reigns as Trench Lord now.” Luthian’s tone caressed “whelp” with the level of aggravation that Sordith had inspired. “He has claimed protection of your son and will not release him to me. While I could have pressed the issue, I was not sure that it was in Alador’s best interest.”

  Henrick did not respond at first, and the silence was filled with the crackle of the fireplace and the coastal wind howling outside. Henrick set the glass down on the small table beside him and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “You have seen him?” he asked in a lowered tone.

  There was definitely a connection between Henrick and his son that Luthian might be able to use. “Yes. I went to the Trench myself to ascertain the level of damage,” Luthian admitted.

  Henrick raised an eyebrow at this. “I see. What did you discover?”

  Luthian nodded and continued. “His hair is significantly lightened with a substantial strip of drainage from root to tip. He stares mindlessly into nothing, and can respond to commands in body, but there seemed to be no response from the man himself. The healer reported that this is not a matter of healing, but one of will and magic.” Luthian response was businesslike.

  “So he is lost to us, then.” Henrick sat back seemingly defeated. “I know our plans rested on his strengths as a Guldalian and a storm mage.”

  Luthian cocked his head curiously at Henrick’s use of the term ‘our plans.’ He had never heard Henrick speak of it as a joint matter before this. He quickly checked his own thoughts to avoid revealing his curiosity. “Not necessarily. He does not trust me due to a rather…” - Luthian paused to decide how much he should share - “...unfortunate disagreement. I found out he had been faltering his abilities around me . The healer says that he might respond to one he trusts. My research has found that there have been some instances where a strong mage under distress and weakening can withdraw into his own mind for protection. I did not seek to see if this is true, for I think my touch would drive him deeper.” Luthian rose and went to refill his own wine glass.

  “Where is he being held?” Henrick asked as he picked up his own glass, swirling the wine as he absently stared into its depths.

  “In the Trench Hall itself. Sordith…” - Luthian growled out the name - “has taken a liking to him, which is to our advantage. He will have more protection than just you or me. We cannot keep the eyes on him that a Trench Lord can and still let him train in the guard.” Luthian had learned a long time ago that if one path to his plans did not seem to be working, it paid to adjust them quickly and take a different path. His ability to analyze situations on the hoof and adjust his plan of action accordingly had been instrumental in his rise to the rank of High Minister.

  Henrick drained the remaining contents of his glass and rose. “I will go to see him immediately.” He started to turn away, but looked back with a smirk. “With your permission, of course, High Minister.”

  Luthian rolled his eyes. “Just see to it that we get him back, Henrick, and you might live another turn.” Luthian’s words held an edge of truth.

  “Your repeated threats are becoming tiring Luthian.” Henrick turned to face Luthian fully. “I am ready for that day any time you dare, brother.” Henrick’s resolute response lingered on the air between them.

  Luthian realized that his brother spoke the truth. He was ready for the battle for power whenever Luthian decided to make his move. Luthian was thankful at the moment that he had already decided to have Henrick assassinated. He did not like not knowing the true strength of his adversary.

  “I will keep that in mind,” Luthian promised. Luthian held Henrick’s gaze till Henrick finally dropped his in deference and turned to stride out the door.

  After his brother was gone and the Blackguards retook their posts, Luthian looked up from the wine glass he was holding. “Get me Severent,” he ordered. It was time that his Master of Knowledge did his job.

  Sordith looked over the damage reports from the recent riot. It was not lost on him that it had occurred at the bottom of the steps that the High Minister had taken out of the trench. He had no doubt that Luthian had tossed those tokens knowing full well what would occur. He made a note on the bottom of the council invoice for the damage. One of the vending stalls had been destroyed, three were dead, and the miners had refused to work for a half-day because of harm that had befallen family members. Sordith doubted he would receive the compensation, but it would send a message to Luthian that he was fully aware of who was responsible.

  His mind turned to what had brought Luthian into the trench in the first place. Sordith had been expecting Henrick for days. He was frustrated as neither he nor Keelee had been able to provoke any mental response from Alador. Sordith had even tried pain, but Alador had not even flinched. He had given up hope. If he did not hear word from Luthian or Henrick by the week’s end then he would put the boy out of his misery. The life that Alador was living was no life, even if it had been only about a week.

  When his door opened, he looked up to see Owen standing there. He sighed with exasperation. Owen had become like a big puppy dog since Sordith had become Trench Lord. “Yes, Owen, what is it?”

  “I think that Guldalian man that you been looking for finally bothered to show up.” Owen’s tone made it clear that he did not approve of mages at all.

  “Well, show him in then.” Sordith shoved his annoyance aside and waved Owen out the door. He was finally going to introduce himself to the man he believed to be his father. More importantly, he hoped that Henrick could find some way to help Alador.

  His mind was racing as to how to present himself to Henrick. How to present the whole situation? How much did he dare share? Could Henrick really be trusted? He wanted to believe that Henrick was a man of honor, but the truth was that he was related to Luthian. That fact right there made the whole situation murky. He moved around his desk as his door opened. Henrick strode in and straight to Sordith, stopping just short of the Trench Lord. Both men were quiet for a long moment as each assessed the other. The mage was dressed in the ro
bes typical of the mage caste. The black material contrasted with the gold trim. His long black hair was held back by a simple band, much as Sordith’s own.

  “I understand that you are holding my son.” Henrick’s tone held no accusation, but there was a tension to his whole presence that Sordith did not miss.

  “I would prefer to say that I am protecting your son.” Sordith’s soft answer was intended to lower the mage’s level of intensity.

  Henrick paused for a long moment. “Protecting him from whom?” Henrick’s eyes were now directly locked with Sordith’s.

  Sordith looked at him very carefully. “If you have to ask that then you are either one of those I need to protect him from,” Sordith crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk, “or you’re as blind as a bat.”

  Henrick wrinkled his nose in annoyance. “I know who the boy needs protection from and why. I wonder why the Trench Lord gives a damn.” Henrick had yet to move from his chosen spot, rooted as firmly as a tree.

  “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in Alador,” Sordith drawled out. “After all, without him, I wouldn’t be the Trench Lord.” Sordith noted Henrick’s displeased look and expelled a long sigh. “We could argue and discuss all day why either of us gives a shite, but that’s not helping your son,” Sordith said, attempting to focus the mage’s mid on what mattered most.

  “For me to help him, I need to know everything that happened, or at least as much as you know.” Henrick clasped his hands behind his back. “Leave no details out. It may make a difference in what my next step should be."

  Sordith hesitated. He didn’t know if he could trust Henrick, but he did know that Alador was as good as dead in his current situation. “I came through the door of the room that Aorun had Alador in. The man was strung up from the ceiling. It is a set up that Aorun used for torturing those that had failed him. One of Aorun’s men was kneeling over Alador’s bed servant, clearly intent on ravishing her right there. I watched as that man seemed to crumble into dust.” Sordith shuddered at the image of Jayson’s hands literally falling off, and the rest of his body collapsing in on itself.

  “Once the man was nothing but dust, the room immediately began filling with water. I was a bit busy, after that, dispatching Aorun...” Sordith eyes became vacant as he relived the battle and his own panic at being held beneath the water. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing.

  “By the time I was sure that Aorun was dead, the water was already to my knees. I got Alador’s feet released, but the water just kept rising. I tried to distract him by shaking and calling out to get him to stop.” Sordith returned his focus to Henrick who was listening closely. “It was as if he wasn’t even there. I finally sapped him, and once he was out, the water stopped rising."

  Henrick frowned. “The young fool!” Henrick spat out finally. “I told him… I warned him not to kill in that manner.” Henrick put a hand to his eyes and let out a long sigh. “I will need to see him.”

  “I figured you would.” Sordith kicked up off the desk. “Come, I will take you to him right now.” Sordith led the way out the door to the inner hallways. As usual, there was no sign of servants, and their footsteps were audible in the stillness.

  “He is biddable,” Sordith continued. “If you tell him to stand or sit, he will comply. It is like watching a dead man move, such as in tales told to scare children at night.”

  “Yes, either one of two things has happened, and I am hoping for the first,” Henrick broodingly stated as they moved down the hall.

  “Care to enlighten me?” Sordith glanced over as Henrick moved up beside him.

  “He has either withdrawn into himself for protection from the pain and anguish, or he burned out his mind and he might as well be dead.” Henrick’s matter of fact words still showed obvious concern. “I had warned him not to kill in such a manner. It twists the mage internally in ways that I cannot heal or help. He will have to find his own way back.”

  “I believe your son thought he was about to die anyway. A man pressed into a corner will fight back the only way he knows how,” Sordith pointed out.

  Henrick fell silent, and Sordith did not press him. He could tell that the mage was sorting through what he knew so far. Sordith opened the door. “He is in here.”

  Keelee stood up from where she sat on Alador’ bed, and upon seeing Henrick, she dropped into a deep curtsy. “My lord,” she murmured softly.

  “Always a skirt,” Henrick groaned with a frown. His eyes roved over Keelee. “At least the boy has good taste.”

  Sordith grinned. “I hear those traits run in the family.” He glanced at Henrick, who was also known to be a lady's man. It was one of the things that Sordith’s mother had mentioned when he had asked about his father.

  Henrick just smiled. “Excuse me, my dear, but could you leave us?” Henrick motioned for Keelee to leave the room.

  Keelee looked at Sordith. He nodded once and held the door for her. “Don’t worry, I will let you know what is to happen when we are done,” he whispered in consolation as she passed him.

  Sordith closed the door and noted that Henrick had sat down beside Alador. He watched as Henrick put a hand on either side of Alador’s head. Moving closer to see better, he noted the strange light forming around the two men. It had a red hue to it, and Sordith’s hair stood up all over his body. The smell of metal filled the air as the temperature seemed to rise around him. Sordith’s hands went to his swords, ready to interrupt if he felt the need.

  After what seemed an eternity, Henrick’s hands fell away. “He has walled himself off. He is in there, but he seems to be locked away in a world that is pleasant to him. My attempts to push through the barrier his mind has created failed.” Sordith saw mystification in the mage’s face.

  “Alador should not be able to keep me at bay.” The obvious concern and confusion only increased as Henrick seemed to contemplate this statement.

  “How do we get him out? The healer said someone he trusted. I would think that would be you.” Sordith frowned at Henrick. “Wait! Why, may I ask, does your son not trust you?”

  “I can think of several reasons at the moment, not discounting the fact that Luthian has been at him.” Henrick snarled. He returned his gaze to his son. “But I do know one person that he trusts without reservation. It is possible that she could reach him.” Henrick rose off the bed, staring down at Alador.

  “Well then, let us fetch this woman. The longer he is like this, the weaker he becomes,” Sordith pointed out with no little urgency.

  “Yes, well, there is a bit of a dilemma around that.” Henrick sighed with frustration.

  “What is that?” Sordith moved to Henrick.

  “She is about three weeks away over land, and she is unlikely to want to let me use magic to bring her.” Henrick rose from the side of the bed.

  “Then be convincing,” Sordith growled out.

  “Have you ever tried to argue with a Daezun woman who is set in her ways?” Henrick asked. His face contorted as if such a memory assailed him. Henrick began to pace at the foot of the bed. .

  “Then use that Guldalian charm, because, by your own words, it is the only chance Alador has got,” Sordith pointed out.

  Henrick nodded. “I may have to resort to a bit of…” - The mage grimaced before continuing - “...forceful persuasion, but I will fetch her.”

  Sordith watched as Henrick tucked Alador in with all the care of a doting father. A sense of relief washed through him as he did not see the calculation that had emanated from Luthian. No, the one thing that he was sure of now, as he observed Henrick with Alador, was that the man had some genuine concern. “Let me show you out then, for time is wasting.”

  Henrick nodded and followed Sordith led him back through the hall. The Trench Lord personally walked the mage out his door. “I will keep him safe and fed till you return. I assume you will be able to convince your brother that moving him is unwise?”

  Henrick smiled at Sordith. “I do
not plan to report to him at all. I will be back as soon as I can.”

  The two men shook hands, and Sordith watched as the mage hurried down the stairs to the trench floor. He smiled at this first meeting with Henrick. He decided that he rather liked the man. The Trench Lord was so lost in his musing that, for a moment, he did not notice those below looking up at him curiously. Sordith gave them a stern glare and was satisfied with their hurried return to their own tasks. He pivoted and went back into the Trench Hall, considering all that he had heard and observed.

  He decided that, when Henrick returned, he would share with him that Luthian had contracted with Sordith to kill him. A man deserved to know when he had a target on his back.

  Chapter Five

  Following Henrick’s departure, Sordith spent two days working on shipping accounts and routing goods to the appropriate tiers. In many ways, he was more of a port manager than anything. Slowly, he was improving things in the trench. He had upped the price for simple things to the upper tiers, such as blankets and base food. He had then routed the equivalent goods to those in the trench, and reduced the price to his cost for the denizens in the dark reaches of Silverport.

  This, in turn, had allowed some people to purchase enough supplies to leave the city, and to homestead in the countryside. By reducing the population of the trench, he could already see a shift in the mood of those who remained. Those that had chosen to pioneer outside the city were given a contract for trade should they choose to implement it. Over time, that ought to increase the amount of native food and trade goods coming into the city rather than the dependency on the port that was beginning to develop. Prices were higher for goods shipped from coastal cities and the other lands.

  The Trench Lord sat back as he eyed the numbers. He had tried to convince Aorun that this was the way to run the trench, but Aorun had been more interested in lining his own pockets. Sordith saw no need for that, as he was in this position for life, and he had everything he needed. More slips in his own pockets seemed a waste when people outside his door were starving.