I smiled, but wisely didn't say anything.
She blew out an irritated breath. "All right, I'll drop it. So my father knows that you'd never marry me without permission. Does your family know about this oath?"
"I never told them," I said easily. "Guin did, though."
"Then there's no way for me to tease them with a fake wedding ring," she lamented.
She was still on that? "No, probably not."
"You're taking all the fun out of this, Garth."
I rolled my eyes. "Your father did that, not me. Now that you're satisfied, can I have breakfast?"
"Lunch," she corrected. "It's past noon."
I didn't care what meal of the day it was, I just wanted food. "Lunch, then."
Chapter Eleven: Mages
I'd gotten a chance to have that bath, and into some clean clothes. De Lien was fussing around me like my own mother, keeping people at bay long enough for me to get cleaned up. Then she practically dragged me into her kitchen, intent on shoving food down me (not that I was complaining). I was just sitting down to eat a late lunch when the Magus came in.
Magus Tyvendor wasn't exactly what I was expecting. For one thing, he looked more like a blacksmith than a Mage. His large, solid build and slightly ruddy skin probably had something to do with that impression. And his eyes were penetrating, so much so that you felt like he was examining your soul when he looked at you. That was hardly a comfortable sensation.
He bowed slightly in greeting, hands splayed out to either side. "Tyvendor, Air Mage from Coven Ordan. We seek the balance."
I gave him a half-bow from my seat. "Rhebengarthen, Earth Mage of Hain. Thank you for the gift of your name."
"Do you mind if I join you, Magus?" he asked politely.
"Not at all, please do." My curiosity was eating at me, but my stomach was threatening to revolt if I didn't feed it soon. I compromised by taking a quick bite while the Magus sat down, then asking a question. "Chatta's told me your history, and a little about your purpose here. Why are you so interested in the magical politics of this continent?"
"We've always considered Hain and Chahir to be home," Tyvendor answered slowly. By the way that he was watching me, I gathered that he hadn't been expecting that question. At least, not yet. "Some of us would like to return and live here."
"Why have you waited until now?" I really wanted the answer to this question. Why had they waited until Mages appeared again?
"Actually, your awakening was a catalyst," Tyvendor admitted. "We've been toying with the idea of returning home for generations now, but we didn't feel it wise to do so. Bromany demands a great deal of our time and talents—we didn't want to alert Chahir or Hain to our presence, and have them do the same thing. No one wants to be caught in the middle of a tug of war."
I understood what he meant perfectly.
"When Mages began to appear again, we thought it safe enough to announce ourselves. Neither Chahir nor Hain could demand our services when they already had Mages of their own." He grimaced. "Or so we thought. We were naïve—we had no idea what the situation would really be over here."
"I'm glad you came," I told him honestly. "We can use the help."
"So your King told me, although you seem to have adjusted to your magic quite well." Those light blue eyes were sharp and appraising. "This barrier that you erected over Q'atal is very impressive."
I squirmed a bit, uncomfortable under this praise. "I had a lot of power to draw from—that helped."
"You had a lot of power to draw from, which probably made the whole situation harder to manage," Tyvendor corrected in dry amusement. "Don't tell me otherwise. I know better."
De Lien turned around sharply. She had been doing something at the kitchen sink, but was obviously listening. I didn't need to look at her face to know that her suspicions were aroused. I carefully side-stepped the issue. "So it's sound, then? I haven't had a chance to check my work."
"Perfectly sound. I went over it thoroughly. That doorway you created was a particular stroke of genius. I didn't know you could leave a hole like that in a barrier without the whole thing coming down on your head. How did you manage that?"
"It's the trees," I explained after swallowing another bite. The food was really good, but I wasn't giving it the attention it deserved. I was too caught up in the conversation. "This forest has been around for a very long time. It's soaked up the energy of the ley lines under it. I was able to anchor the barrier in two specific trees, building the barrier up around it."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Would that make the trees the keystone? That's dangerous, you know. What if someone tries to chop down those trees?"
"They'll get the shock of their life," I answered, chuckling at the mental image that had popped up in my head. I could just picture some poor sod trying to chop down that tree with an axe—and getting blown out of his boots in the process. "Those two trees are sheer power—just touching them will make your hair stand on end. Trust me, you can't cut them down."
He gave a noncommittal "Hmmm."
"Garth, aren't you finished yet?" Night stuck his head into the doorway.
"Will you be patient?" I replied in exasperation. "I've barely been up an hour! And I'm starving."
"Everyone keeps asking me questions about you. I'm tired of repeating myself," he complained.
"Is this your Nreesce?" Tyvendor was staring at Night with a strange expression on his face.
I found it odd that in the past two days he hadn't met Night yet. "Yes, this is Night. You two haven't met?"
"I'm afraid I was too distracted studying the barrier to get more than names," Tyvendor apologized.
"Then let me do the introductions." I waved a hand between them. "Night, this is Magus Tyvendor, Air Mage from Coven Ordan. Tyvendor, this is my Nreesce, Night."
"Pleasure, Magus." Night was returning Tyvendor's scrutiny like for like.
"I hope you don't think this impertinent, Night, but who was your mother?"
"Advent Eve."
Tyvendor went rock still, and he made a strangled sound like a duck choking on a cracker. "Are…you her only son?"
Night exchanged a glance with me—why was he asking this?—but answered. "Yes, I am."
"Trivoxor," Tyvendor breathed shakily.
My fork dropped out of my nerveless fingers, clattering to the plate. "How did you know that?" I demanded sharply. Only four people knew of Night's true name—including Night and me—and there was no way that either Professor O'danne or Professor Bryer would tell Tyvendor this information.
Tyvendor had to swallow twice before he could get words to come out of his mouth. "There is a prophecy, from before the Magic War. It…mentions him."
I looked to Night to see his reaction. My brain was too stunned to think up a rational response. My Nreesce looked just as pole-axed. I wanted to demand answers, but didn't feel comfortable doing so with De Lien in the room. Not that I didn't like her, but—this was not a secret that should get out.
She must have sensed this. De Lien left the sink, patting me on the shoulder as she passed me. "I think you need some privacy."
I smiled at her gratefully, only relaxing when the kitchen door was shut. Then I turned back to Tyvendor, pinning him in place with my eyes. "What do you know of the prophecy?"
He licked dry lips, a little nervously. For some reason, he was staring back at me like I had just sprouted a second head. "You've read it?"
"Yes." I didn't feel like elaborating any further.
"A great deal of knowledge has been lost in Hain. Let me recite it, just to make sure we're talking about the same thing."
I thought that a sensible idea, and nodded for him to continue.
With a deep breath, Tyvendor recited calmly, "The Mother shall give birth, and her son will be named Trivoxor. Blood shall be mixed with his coming; strangers shall seek him. A Rider shall be chosen. Great power shall be his, and all shall know his name. When Trivoxor has chosen a Rider, the Balance will be restor
ed. The son will be named Trivoxor and blood will be mixed with his coming."
I felt a cold shiver run up and down my spine. What he had recited was word perfect for the prophecy I had read, nearly two years ago, except for that one sentence.
"Repeat the last part," Night requested. To my mental ears, he sounded a little…disturbed.
"When Trivoxor has chosen a Rider, the Balance will be restored. The son will be named Trivoxor and blood will be mixed with his coming."
"Garth…that's not the prophecy you read to me."
"It's a little different," I agreed. "Tyvendor, the part about the Balance being restored when Trivoxor has chosen a Rider…where did that come from?"
"It was in the original texts that came with my ancestors," he answered with a helpless shrug. "You have a different version?"
"Yours was nearly word perfect, except that sentence." And that sentence was giving me the creeps.
"The Seer who gave the prophecy was one of my ancestors," Tyvendor said this while keeping a careful eye on both of our faces. "I believe it to be the most accurate version."
That wasn't the answer that I wanted to hear.
"That was another reason that we came here," Tyvendor continued, when it was obvious neither Night nor I would say anything more. "We knew that Advent Eve had to be very old, if she were still alive. We wanted to find her son, and figure out if he had chosen a Rider or not."
"And if he had?" I kept the question neutral.
"Then we were certainly going to keep tabs on them both." Tyvendor met my eyes levelly. "Can you blame us, considering the nature of that prophecy?"
"No," I sighed heavily. "I can't." After a moment of thought, I added, "Can you tell me what it means?"
Tyvendor snorted, amused. "The wonderful part about prophecies is that they can be interpreted a millions ways, and only hindsight will tell you what they really mean."
That was unfortunately true.
~*~
There was an unexpected side effect to the barrier that I hadn't foreseen. I knew that the Q'atalians could pass in and out of the barrier with ease, of course. I designed it that way on purpose. What I hadn't known was that they could feel it when they passed through. More, that apparently it felt oddly pleasant to do so.
After my late lunch with Tyvendor and Night, I went out to see for myself what my handiwork looked like. The first thing I saw was a group of children, ranging from perhaps three years old to thirteen, all jumping back and forth through the barrier and squealing with delight.
"They've been doing that since yesterday," Night said at my elbow. "Apparently, it never gets old."
"They can feel it?" Most non-magical people couldn't feel magic at all, unless it was in vast quantities.
"I think it's because of their empathy. They certainly feel something when they pass through."
I found that very interesting.
With eyes and magical sense, I took a better look at the barrier. It was shaped like a huge dome overhead, transparent for the most part. If you looked at it in the shadows of the trees, you sometimes caught a hint of green in the barrier. I tested it in a few places, but Tyvendor was right. The barrier was perfectly sound.
"Garth!"
I turned, looking behind me. Shad was approaching at a quick lope, but he was smiling slightly, so I doubted that he was looking for me because there was some sort of emergency. It took him only a few moments to catch up to me, and he stopped, not even breathing hard.
"Xiaolang wants to leave tomorrow morning," he informed me.
I blinked at this. "So soon?" I expected for him to want to stay longer, all things considered.
"We've already been here five days," Shad reminded me. "And we weren't supposed to come up here to begin with. I think Xiaolang is feeling like he's neglecting his duty to Chahir."
Knowing Xiaolang, that was probably exactly what he was thinking. "Hmmm. Well, all right."
Without any transition, he changed subjects. "Did you say something to Chatta?"
Apparently while I was sleeping, Shad had met Chatta. I wasn't surprised by this, as Shad had proven to be a true people person. I didn't know why he was asking me that question however, and eyed him sideways. "Why?"
"Because she keeps muttering darkly to herself. She wasn't doing that until you woke up." Shad had both eyebrows arched, expectantly waiting for my response.
Curse his observant hide. I kept my answer short and concise. "I gave her father an Oath of Protection. She just found out about it."
Shad whistled softly. "I haven't known her long, but she strikes me as the independent type."
"Why do you think I kept it to myself for so long?" I grumbled.
Night was snickering, not even bothering to hide his amusement. "She didn't take it well, did she?"
"I got yelled at," I admitted darkly. It was a miracle he slept through it.
"It probably wouldn't have been as bad if she hadn't been caught in that Mage battle of yours recently."
Drats, I hadn't thought of that. That experience probably was making things worse.
"What Mage battle?" Shad had his ears perked, nearly bouncing with curiosity.
I let Night tell him the story, as I didn't wish to relive that experience, even in my head. The first time was bad enough. I was more focused on what Shad had said. Chatta was still upset about the oath? I couldn't do much about that, as there were only two ways to be absolved of that oath. Either her father could release me, or I died. That's it.
I sighed ruefully. And here I thought I had been so clever, giving that oath. I didn't regret doing it, by any means, but it sure put me into a sticky situation with my friend.
Shad clapped me on the shoulder, bringing me back into the present. "You do get into the most remarkable trouble, Garth."
"It's a gift," I drawled.
He laughed, eyes sparkling madly. "Well, she'll forgive you. Eventually. In the meantime, do you want to spar with me?"
"Are you up to it?" I asked in concern. He had been entrapped in a crystal a bare week ago.
A wicked grin crossed his face. "I'll prove it to you."
~*~
Twenty minutes later, I dropped to the grass, thanking any god, goddess, demi-god or guardian that came to mind that the day’s sparring was done. Shad wasn’t really more advanced than I was (although he knew more dirty tricks than I did)—the man was just too bloody fast! The brief amount of time I sparred against him had told me plainly that he was MUCH better. Considering that he was supposedly "convalescing," that was just humiliating.
“Not bad, Garth,” Shad congratulated me.
“Shad, do me a favor.”
“…what, tote you inside?”
“No.” I cracked open an eye to glare at him. “At least pretend to be breathing hard.”
Bright laughter spilled out of his mouth. “Next time, I promise.”
“Thank you. Being whooped by you is bad enough, but you’re not even breathing hard! It’s…ridiculous!”
"So do you agree that I'm better?" he enquired sweetly.
I cracked open an eye to glare at him. "I'll agree that you carry your age well, old man."
He tsked me cheerfully. "You shouldn't say that, Garth, because this old man ran rings around you."
I wanted to retaliate, I really did…but he was right, and we both knew it.
Shad sighed mournfully. "I suppose I'm going to have to train with Xiaolang to get any real competition."
"I can always fight you as a Mage," I offered with a beatific smile. "That should keep you hopping."
He eyed me suspiciously. "I'll pass, thanks."
"Now Shad, don't be like that," I said condescendingly. "I won't hurt you. Much."
"Yes, it's that 'much' that concerns me. I like having all my limbs attached."
"Are you two done beating up on each other for the day?" Chatta was a few feet away, a glass in each hand. My eyes focused on that water, throat aching and parched.
"Is one of th
ose for me?" I asked eagerly.
"It certainly is."
I was up and at her side in two seconds flat, guzzling down ice cool water with relief. Ahhhh. That was so good. I handed the glass back to her with a smile. "Thanks."
"You're quite welcome," she responded as she handed the other glass to Shad.
Shad gulped his down just as quickly before handing it back. "Thanks, beautiful."
Chatta didn't even blink at this endearment. "Anytime, Cezza."
A frown gathered on my face as I looked between them. Beautiful? Cezza? Why was she calling him a sweetie? What was going on here? Did something happen while I was out those two days?
"I came to fetch you," Chatta informed me. "Tyvendor wants a word before he returns to Del'Hain."
"He's going back already?" I asked in surprise. I'd barely gotten a good conversation in with him.
"I think he's worried about leaving his two friends with all the work," she admitted. "Anyway, he's in the main hall."
I really wanted to dig into this "beautiful" and "cezza" thing, but now obviously wasn't the time. I made a mental note to investigate later.
Tyvendor was indeed waiting in the hall for me. I was barely within hearing distance when he started talking to me. "Magus, I need to leave soon. I've gotten a message from Del'Hain, and my friends there are a little out of their depth with something. They need my help. I'd like to talk to you more, however. Is there any way that you can come to Del'Hain soon?"
"I can't promise that," I refuted with a helpless shrug. "I'm caught up in my own project in Chahir. But I can promise you that I'll speak to Xiaolang about it, and see if we can't find a day, or at least a few hours, for me to pop back over and have that conversation."
He looked faintly relieved at this. "That's all I ask," he assured me.
There were still a lot of questions that I wanted to ask him, as well, so I fervently hoped that I might be able to return to Del'Hain soon.
Chapter Twelve: Possibilities
It was…difficult to be back in Chahir. I'd gone from Q'atal—one of the most loving and beautiful places in this world—to one of the most paranoid, and I was definitely feeling the difference.
Magus (Advent Mage Cycle) Page 17