Jaunten (Advent Mage Cycle)

by Honor Raconteur

  I probably would have found the right door to King Guin’s chambers even without Chatta’s directions. It was more elaborate than any other door in the hallway, with beautiful inlays of different kinds of wood inside the door. I knocked on it softly, not wanting to wake up anyone who was still sleeping. A moment later the door opened to reveal a slightly rumpled King. He was barely dressed in black pants and a loose white shirt, looking more like a man who had just stumbled out of bed and into the first clothes at hand than a King. “You wished to see me, sire?”

  A flash of relief came over his face. “Yes, come in.” He held the door open long enough for Night and me to enter, then closed it behind us.

  The first room was actually some sort of mini-parlor with a single couch and several comfortable chairs. He gestured me into one of them, which I took gratefully. It had been a long night, and right now all I wanted was a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

  “You brought them here safely?” he enquired as he sat in a chair next to mine.

  I absently patted Night’s neck as he came to stand next to my chair. “Yes, sire. I had a little trouble leaving the city, but we’re all fine.”

  The man knew me well enough to pounce on the cryptic reference. “A little trouble?” he parroted. “Expound on that, please.”

  “The city guard detected me,” I explained while trying to suppress a yawn. “They sent a squad to halt our leaving the city. I had to bury them in cobblestone to convince them to leave us alone.”

  His eyes went a little wide. “…are they still alive?”

  “Of course! I left their heads above ground. Someone can dig them back out again.”

  “Of course,” he stated in growing amusement. “I didn’t realize you could do that, Garth.”

  “Dirt and stone can be molded and shaped for many uses,” I pointed out. “Trapping people in solid dirt is relatively easy. I hope that the encounter will not cause trouble for you. I did make every effort to talk my way passed the City Guard, but their Captain refused to yield.”

  He waved this away. “On the contrary, I can probably use the event to my advantage. You look exhausted, Garth.”

  I had been up for twenty-four hours straight at this point, and used quite a bit of magic besides. I was bagged out. “I would like some decent sleep.”

  “I ask only that you help set up wards around the building first, and then by all means rest.”

  …ah, I had no idea how to do wards. Erecting wards around myself, or another person, those I could do. There was a vast difference between those wards, and the wards that you would put up around an entire building. I didn’t tell him that, however. I’d ask Chatta and Kartal for a quick tutorial session, before we set them in place. It was probably time I learned how to do wards on a building anyway. “As you wish, sire.”

  “I would very much like to meet your family,” he offered, after a moment’s thought. “I am curious about them. Bring them to my chambers, so that we can have breakfast together, tomorrow.”

  What was he up to? There was more to this meeting than just mere curiosity. But I suppose I’ll figure that out later, when my brain isn’t dead. I just nodded in acknowledgement. “I’ll see to the wards.” Rising, I gave him a polite bow and made my way out of the room.

  “Garth.”

  I turned at the hail, brow cocked. “Sire?”

  “While you are here, make it blatantly obvious who and what you are.”

  …why? “I assume that there is a reason for that?”

  “You assume correctly.” The smile on his face was not at all nice. “I want to drive it home that Chahir has people of magic being born.” As something of an afterthought, he added, “And if you sense anyone nearby with magical potential, don’t hesitate in bringing them here under my protection.”

  At that I had to smile. That was something that I would do gladly. “Yes, sire!”

  He smiled back and shooed me off. “Go! You need rest.”

  Didn’t I know it!

  ~*~

  Turns out, there’s a very sound reason why the Professors never focused on building wards with me. It falls perilously close to that “subtle magic’’ border. When I told Chatta about my orders, she gave me a rather dubious look.

  "I'm not sure about this, Garth," she finally stated truthfully. "Using your magic to build the wards could actually be very beneficial. It would keep your family safer for one thing, since they are genetically connected to you. Your power base should be in tune with them, and more easily detect any threat to them. The wards most certainly would be stronger if you helped construct them, but this is a very delicate and intricate process.”

  "And I'm not very good at delicate or subtle," I acknowledged with a sigh.

  Kartal stirred from nearby. He and Chatta had been in the foyer, preparing to raise the building's wards when I found them. He left the sigil he had been drawing on the floor and stood up to join us in the conversation. "Actually…I think we can include him. Or more precisely, you and he can build the wards, and I can cast the final spell to finish them."

  Chatta quirked an eyebrow. "Why just us?"

  "The two of you are very comfortable with each other," he explained with almost exaggerated patience. Apparently he thought she should have already figured this out. "To put it bluntly, you are already in harmony with him and his magic. I would just throw the balance off."

  He had a point. Chatta and I were so accustomed to working together that it would be fairly easy to blend powers—Kartal and I would probably react like fire and oil.

  Chatta was nodding thoughtfully. "Good point. All right, Garth, here's how we'll do this."

  For the next five minutes I was taught the spell, or I should say the melody of the spell. I had read that the oldest spells used music, in order to harmonize and combine different forces. Apparently doing the wards on a building was very old magic, because this one was in song form. I had a respectable enough voice, and Chatta's voice was a crystal clear soprano, that was very pleasant to listen to. It was easy to learn how to incorporate our two voices together in the warding song.

  "All right, I think you have it." She smiled at me, and gave a quick glance at Kartal. He had been occupied drawing a sigil while I was taught the spell. She nodded when she saw that the sigil was now complete. "Now, I'm going to sing the first line. When you join in on the second line, I want you to just call your power to the surface. Don't do anything with it. I'll draw upon it and direct it."

  I thought I understood now where she was going with this. "I'm actually going to be your wand during this spell, aren't I?"

  "I hadn’t thought about it that way, but that's a rather accurate description," Kartal approved. "Are we ready?"

  "Ready," Chatta confirmed. She hummed softly then started to sing.

  "Magic we are gifted with, we call thee—”

  I joined in, leaving my magic as close to the surface as I dared.

  "Join with the very stones; protect those that reside within—”

  I felt her touch, felt her guide the power that I offered into the stones of the building itself. It was a deeply enthralling, sensual sensation. Her touch was light, but persistent and even. I felt like trying to extend more to her, because she surely couldn't accomplish anything with the pitiful amount of energy she was drawing from me. One glance at her face made me hesitate in opening myself any further, however. She was stark white, and her expression was labored and pinched, as if it were taking every wit of her concentration to do what she doing now.

  "Let no person with wrong intent enter.

  Magic we are gifted with, we call thee—

  Protect those that dwell within."

  I felt the change in the magic as soon as Kartal cast the final spell. It had flooded the building before this, but now it became embedded in the mortar itself. They truly felt like wards now.

  I shut off my magic again, and turned to Chatta with a smile of satisfaction. One look at her, and my smile vaporized. Chatta l
ooked drained, with little more coloring than a corpse. She was swaying dangerously on her feet. Without hesitation, I darted forward and caught her around her shoulders, bracing her body against my own. "Chatta?!"

  Kartal spun about, no doubt alerted by the alarm in my voice. "I was afraid of that," he growled as soon as he got a good look at her. "Garth, why do you have to be so bloody powerful?"

  I felt like he had sucker punched me. "This is my fault?"

  "It's not your fault," Chatta denied in a hoarse whisper against my chest. "It's just very difficult to channel your power. I'll be fine with some rest."

  I didn't entirely believe that. I think I had overloaded her with power, unintentionally, and she was trying to make me feel better about it. I also think it would take more than ''some rest'' for her to recover completely. Guilt was coming in at a gallop, spreading like poison in my chest. Mentally kicking myself for not being more careful, I considered her for a moment. She needed rest, but I didn’t feel comfortable with putting her into her own room. She needed to be some place that someone could keep an eye on her.

  Mom.

  My mom could do that—why not? I could just put Chatta into the room that was set aside for me. I would borrow one of my brother's beds for a quick nap, and Mom could easily watch over Chatta that way.

  I gently lifted Chatta into my arms, unnerved at how meekly she permitted the maneuver. Usually she was too independent to allow such a move, without at least a few well chosen words of protest. She was really worse off than she was letting on. With a soft sigh, she let her head rest on my shoulder, and then went completely limp, sound asleep, or unconscious.

  Kartal touched my arm to get my attention, eyes narrowed. "Where are you taking her?"

  "My family's rooms," I answered evenly. "My mother can help me keep an eye on her until she's properly recovered."

  He considered that for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Fine. She'll be starving when she wakes up; the customary price for overtaxing your magic."

  I nodded curtly, appreciating the fact that he wasn't lambasting me for my mistake. I felt guilty enough as it was.

  Chatta was a comfortable weight in my arms, as I carried her up a flight of stairs, and down the long hallway to my family's rooms. I had never really realized, until this moment, exactly how small she was! The sheer force of her personality made her seem…larger wasn't really the word. At this moment she just seemed fragile and vulnerable, as I gazed down onto her sleeping face. I felt like an absolute, self absorbed, brain dead fool. Why wasn’t I able to sense how severe a strain our shared bond was having on her entire system?!

  When I finally reached the right door, I was nearly drowning in guilt and remorse. I knocked on the door with my foot, and a moment later the door was opened—by my father. Da took one look at the situation and his brows fused together in a fierce frown. "What happened?"

  "I'm an incompetent idiot, that's what happened," I replied tonelessly. When he shifted aside, I entered the room fully, still cradling Chatta against my chest. "Which room is mine?"

  His dark look hadn't let up, but he pointed to the right door. I'd barely taken two steps towards it when my mother appeared out of a different door, took in the situation, and sprinted to my side. "Garth, what happened to her?"

  "I was helping her with a spell," I explained as succinctly as possible, "and I overloaded her. She's…" I had to swallow hard past the huge lump in my throat before I could continue. "She's going to need several hours of sleep and a hearty meal when she wakes up. I brought her here so you can watch over her for me."

  "You overloaded her," Dad repeated in a painfully neutral voice.

  "I didn't realize I was doing it." I lifted pain filled eyes to his face. "Da, I could never hurt her on purpose—”

  He sighed, and the anger bled out of his face. "Busted buckets, son, I know that! You just looked so guilty, I figured you'd done something stupid."

  "I did do something stupid," I whispered bitterly. Shaking my black mood off, I continued to the room. I would kick myself a thousand times for my ineptitude later; right now I had to see to Chatta.

  With the utmost care I placed my best friend on the bed, arranging her arms and legs so that she was situated comfortably. I didn't realize that my mother had followed me in, until she removed Chatta's shoes, and smoothed a soft blanket over her sleeping form.

  "Come, Garth," she urged, with a gentle tug at my sleeve. "You can rest on Braeden's bed for now. You need your rest too."

  I reluctantly let myself be guided out of the room. "You'll keep an eye on her?" I entreated.

  "Of course," she assured me gently. "Go rest; you're exhausted!"

  I obediently went to lie down on my brother's bed, but I wasn't sure how much rest I would get.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Power

  Chatta awoke with a gasp, her head still spinning with visions of rocks sailing through the air. The earth was moving underneath her feet, and an incomprehensible amount of raw power was singing an operatic solo through her vibrating nerves. This was so utterly alien from her usual dreamscape, leaving her out of phase, confused and disoriented. With a start, she remembered what she had been doing right before passing out in Garth’s arms. Apparently tapping into an Earth Mage’s magic had some startling side-effects. She growled in vexation. “Garth, you’re such a corrupting influence!”

  Tentatively, she sat upright, amazed she didn’t feel tired or absolutely devoid of energy. Actually, she just felt ravenous. Her stomach was threatening legal action against her mouth, for non support. Glancing about, she realized that this was not the room she had taken for herself…hmmm.

  There was the sound of male and female voices on the other side of the partially open bedroom door. Suspicions quirked; Chatta rose and moved silently toward the door before peering out into the main room. Ah, just as she suspected. Garth had taken her to his family’s suite. A meal was being laid out on the table—either the noon meal or the evening meal, she wasn’t quite sure. How long had she slept, anyway?

  “Ah, she’s awake!” It was Braeden who spoke…at least, Chatta was pretty sure it was Braeden.

  Apparently she’d been caught. With a slight smile she pulled the door all of the way open and went to join everyone. “Hello. How long was I asleep?”

  “A few hours,” Garth’s mother—Jaylan?—responded with a concerned look. “Are you feeling all right? Garth said that you would need several hours of sleep.”

  “I’m fine,” Chatta assured her. Mentally she was blessing Garth for making her practice Chahirese so often. His family had a very unique accent that was testing her linguistic skills. “Well, I am very hungry. Is Garth awake yet?”

  “Nah, he’s still sound asleep,” the other brother—Xajen?—answered with a casual flick of the hand.

  “I think he has good cause,” Chatta observed wryly. If she had been up for an entire day, and worked as much magic as Garth had, she’d probably still be asleep two days from now!

  “Come join us,” Jaylan invited with a warm smile.

  Chatta settled in at the table with the rest of the family, silently studying everyone around her as she filled her plate with food. Garth’s father, Arden, was remarkably similar to his son in personality. He was quiet, for the most part, and when he did say something it was either dryly humorous, or an acutely accurate observation. The two brothers could tease a body to commit murder and mayhem. Xajen, the eldest, was fair and handsome—and knew it. Braeden was slightly shorter, and quicker of wit than his elder brother (probably a trait developed in order to survive the constant teasing of an older sibling).

  “Garth said he met you the first day he was at his school,” Kaydan observed with a probing smile.

  “I was asked to show him around the Academy and help him get settled,” Chatta agreed. Mentally she rolled her eyes—Kaydan was roughly fourteen years old, and most girls of her age really had only one thing on their minds; romance!

  “And you just decided to be frien
ds with him?” Kaydan wasn’t about to let it go at just that.

  This time Chatta did roll her eyes. “You must be joking. Not only is he good-looking, but he’s very polite and a lot of fun.” Turning her head slightly, Chatta winked at Garth’s mother. “My congratulations on raising such a complete gentleman; they are a dying breed.”

  “Garth was the easiest one to raise,” she replied with sparkling eyes. “The other three, however…”

  There was a chorus of indignant squawks from the other siblings, which made Chatta laugh.

  "What did my son do that taxed you so much?" Arden inquired with a faint frown.

  "He didn't do anything," Chatta corrected firmly. "Garth, as a Mage, has a tremendous amount of power, and much more power than I could ever control. I was using his power to set the wards up, and tapping into him like that was not an easy task. It wore me out."

  Arden's frown hadn't eased much. "He said that he overloaded you."

  "Oh, he would blame himself for this!" Chatta growled. Rubbing her temples with her fingertips, she started planning on how to convince her very dear, idiotic friend that he didn't do anything wrong. "No, he did not overload me! He is just far too powerful. I was totally unprepared to meld powers of that magnitude. I have never experienced such a vast repository of magical power before; no one has."

  "So…he's really that strong?" Braeden was watching her out of the corner of his eye, and his face was almost carefully neutral.

  "Yes, he really is. I'm grateful that he's not the kind of person to abuse such power; otherwise, it could be an absolute nightmare." A brief vision of Kartal being a Mage, instead of Garth, chased its way through Chatta's head. She almost shuddered in dread at the very thought. No, it was much better for Garth to be the Mage. She looked up with a smile for the two slightly worried parents at the table. "Actually, Garth is rather famous for not using magic to solve every problem. Someone once asked him why he didn't use magic, and he said, 'It's not what a man is capable of doing, but what he chooses to do that is important.'"