Jaunten (Advent Mage Cycle)

by Honor Raconteur

  Arden blinked, and then a slow grin took over his face. "So that stuck in his head, eh?"

  "Very much so," she responded with a smile of her own. "I told him that was rather profound, and he told me that he couldn't take credit for it. He also said that he can hear your voice saying it in his head because you said it to him so often."

  "I repeated a lot of things with Garth," Arden reflected with wry humor. "He's so quiet that I wasn't sure what penetrated and what didn't."

  "I wonder where he got that from," Jaylan drawled with a pointed look at her husband.

  "Yes, I wonder," her husband drawled back with a wink.

  The door to one of the bedrooms chose that moment to open and a slightly disheveled Garth stumbled out into view. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, took a quick look around the room—and stopped on Chatta. The expression on his face instantly turned troubled and guilty.

  Chatta rolled her eyes, and got to her feet. Obviously she would have to deal with this now, before any ill-conceived notions became permanently lodged in Garth's head.

  ~*~

  I was relieved to see Chatta seated at the table with my family, but I didn't like the slightly pale cast to her skin. Guilt immediately swamped me when I saw her, and my face must have said something to that effect, because she rolled her eyes before quickly crossing over to me.

  Reaching up, she caught my face between both hands, ensuring that she had my full undivided attention. "Garth, stop that immediately!"

  I opened my mouth to protest, and snapped it shut, when she gave me a sharp look.

  "I mean it. You did not do anything wrong! Yes, you are incredibly powerful, and yes, I did overload on that power, but it had nothing to do with you. You are not responsible for everything. AM I CLEAR!?"

  With that intent look in her eyes, I had to believe her. Slowly I nodded. "All right. But I don't think we should do this again."

  "If, and when, the situation demands it, we'll be far more careful next time," she assured me, with a slight smile.

  "But you are all right?" I asked anxiously. I wouldn't put it past Chatta to pretend that she was fine to alleviate everyone else's worries.

  "You worry-wart!" she exclaimed in fond exasperation. Dropping her hands, she hugged me instead. "I'm fine, all right?"

  For just a moment I held her close, allowing the knowledge to seep directly through my pores and into my soul. I never wanted to be scared like that, ever again. Then I drew in a deep breath, and forced myself to let go. "Okay." I managed a smile for her.

  "Good. Now come on, I'll bet you're starving."

  As Chatta led the way back to the table, I looked over at my family. Everyone had been watching my conversation with Chatta with the greatest of interest, and no small amount of speculation, if their expressions were anything to judge by. I could have explained to them that Hainian culture was much more physically demonstrative than Chahiran, and Chatta was especially touchy-feely, but I didn't feel like it. Maybe later.

  I just sat at the table, loaded up my plate with food, and commenced shoveling it in, with great vigor.

  "How did your conversation go with the King?" my mother asked with sharp interest.

  I had to swallow a mouthful of food before I could answer. "Fine. He wants to have breakfast with everyone tomorrow."

  You'd think I'd announced that I was going to set the room on fire judging by people's reactions.

  My siblings were sputtering incoherently; my father's jaw was hanging far enough to touch the floor, and my mother was staring at me in horror. She at least was still coherent enough to demand, "He what?!"

  "He wants to have breakfast with the family tomorrow," I answered calmly. "He wants to meet everyone."

  "Garth, tell me you didn't say yes!"

  I blinked at her, at a loss for this kind of reaction. Well, maybe she was nervous about eating with royalty. "Why? He's a very good man, Mom. And he wants to meet everyone. Don't worry about impressing him; he's not pompous or anything."

  Chatta, seated next to me, had her head buried in both hands and was shaking it back and forth in obvious disbelief. "Garth, how can you live sixteen years in this world and still be so clueless?"

  I frowned at her. "What did I say?"

  She ignored me and turned back to my parents, tone soothing and calm. "Don't worry. King Guin is very easy to get along with. My family has known him for years. And he's not the type that you need to worry about impressing. He has a way of making you feel right at home. I'm sure you'll be fine tomorrow, when you meet him."

  "You will teach us Hainian manners?" my mother pleaded in a thin voice.

  "No need, he's very well versed in Chahiran customs," Chatta answered with quiet reassurance. "And I'm sure that he wants to meet you because he likes Garth so much. He's very accustomed to your son being blunt and honest—actually, Guin prefers people to act that way. Just respond normally to him and you'll be fine."

  I never have been nervous in Guin's presence, so I couldn't fathom their reactions at the prospect of meeting him. Obviously I was out of my league. So I just ate, stayed quiet, and let Chatta do the reassuring.

  ~*~

  I’ve never seen my parents such nervous wrecks before.

  It’s rather entertaining.

  Not that I was about to show any amusement. My mother would kill me. No, I kept a straight face as I introduced my family to Guin. I think it helped that he was wearing a somewhat informal Chahiran suit; it made him seem much more approachable. As we sat down around the breakfast table in his suite, the tension was so thick you could have sliced it with a knife and served it up on a piece of bread. Well, it looked like it was up to me to clear the air.

  I was still trying to think of something to say when Guin faced me, a muted twinkle in his eyes. “Delheart tells me that you tricked him.”

  I plastered an innocent expression on my face. “Surely ‘trick’ is too strong of a word,” I objected mildly.

  Both of my parents were looking at me suspiciously.

  “Garth?” my mother infused the demand of “what did you do?” in my name alone.

  “Delheart is Chatta’s father,” I explained. It was hard to keep the satisfied smirk off my face. “He approached me a few weeks ago, worried about Chatta traveling with me, alone.”

  “He was right to worry,” Guin pointed out with a slight arch of his eyebrow. “If you were ever in Del’Hain for more than two days at a time, you’d understand why.”

  And what did that mean? I made a mental note to enquire later. I still had a semi-accusation to deal with now. “I couldn’t always guarantee we would have an appropriate chaperone, like he wanted,” I continued in a reasonable tone. “The oath was a good compromise.”

  My father’s face cleared. “You gave an Oath of Protection?”

  I nodded. Can’t smirk, can’t smirk, can’t smirk…

  My mother looked to Guin in confusion. “How is that considered trickery?”

  “Garth can travel with Chatta anywhere, anytime, because of that oath,” Guin pointed out. His eyes were twinkling again with subdued mirth and mischief. “And her father can’t offer one word in protest.”

  This time I couldn’t quite subdue my smirk.

  Guin caught my expression and started chuckling, a warm deep sound that was pleasant on the ears. “It was an absolutely inspired idea, and rather clever.”

  “I was rather proud of it,” I acknowledged with (admittedly false) modesty.

  Xavier reached over and patted me on the back. “I’m proud of you, little brother.”

  I grinned at him, but my focus was still on Guin. “Delheart isn’t truly upset, is he?”

  “I think he was more irritated that he was outmaneuvered by a political novice than anything else,” Guin refuted with a cheerful smile. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

  Well, that was a relief.

  Topics turned to other matters then, with Guin filling in more of the details surrounding my time in
Hain. I tried to stay out of it, letting my parents talk with him more, so they could form their own rapport with the man. By the time that the meal was over, the atmosphere was much more relaxed.

  “I’m afraid that I must take my leave now,” Guin said with genuine regret. “There are meetings that I must attend shortly. But I hope that you will have breakfast with me again in a few days?”

  My mother was the one who answered with a warm smile on her face. “We’d be glad to.”

  “Good, I’ll send word to establish a firmer time.”

  That was pretty much a cue to get up and leave, so we all rose. Guin caught my attention with a raised hand, so I hesitated in following my family out of the door.

  “I’ve asked Chatta and Kartal to do a scrying,” he informed me in a low tone. “They’ll be searching for anyone with magical talent outside of the city. With your earth traveling method, you’re the fastest here. I expect you to stay nearby, and at their disposal, if they find anyone. Bring them directly back here, under my protection.”

  I nodded to show my understanding.

  “Good. And I’ll want you at the Magic Convocation two days from now. Dress formally, and make it obvious to a blind man, who, and what you are.”

  That…was a very interesting order. “May I ask why?”

  “They’re trying to bury their heads in the sand,” Guin explained simply. “I’m going to force them to acknowledge the truth, even if I have to drive it into them with a fifty weight hammer.”

  Ah. I was beginning to see. “And I’m the hammer, is that it?”

  Guin out and out grinned at me. “That’s it precisely.”

  Well. As long as I had a purpose in life. “What time?”

  “Noon, or just before it.”

  I nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  ~*~

  “Garth!”

  There was a note of panic in that call, so I spun around quickly, searching for the cause of anxiety. Chatta had her robes lifted up to her knees, and she was running at full speed in my direction.

  This did not look good. I moved quickly across the courtyard to meet her half way. She was moving so fast, I wasn’t sure if she could stop without crashing into me. I reached out and grabbed her shoulders, to help steady her, as she unceremoniously slid to a halt. “What is it?”

  “Ten miles north of here,” she panted out, “woman and child—magical—going to be—burned to death—”

  That was enough information for me. “Night!” I called urgently.

  My Nreesce had been charming my mother into feeding him peanut butter, but at my call he quickly trotted over to me.

  “We need to go rescue two people,” I explained quickly. “There’s no time, so we’ll have to take the earth path.”

  Night hated traveling through the earth, and he shuddered in revulsion at the very prospect. It was a testament to how much he had matured, that he didn’t argue, and just nodded grimly.

  I kicked off from the ground, gaining enough momentum to scramble onto Night’s back. As soon as I was seated, I drew on the magic in my core and sank us both into the ground.

  A cocoon of magic engulfed us, protecting us from the surrounding rock, and allowing us to breathe. The earth melted and flowed around that web of power, sliding quickly past us. I took a moment to mentally project my mind forward, searching for the strong auras that magical people emit. It didn’t take long to find them. They felt hot, almost too hot, the way that a hearth fire does when you are sitting too close to it. From what I could tell, they were surrounded by a lot of people. Not good!

  The beauty of this method of travel is that it only takes minutes to travel miles. I barely had a fix on the woman and child when we were right next to them. I altered speed and direction, moving us up so that we could break the surface.

  I could almost feel Night’s relief to be above the ground again. I didn’t spare him a lot of attention—my focus was on the people around us. Horror was the predominant expression, as they rapidly backed away from Night and me. They were in complete disarray, stumbling and tripping over each other, in their panicked withdrawal.

  At first I didn’t see the people I had come here for. But I heard the screams of pain and fear, and I smelled smoke. Following nose and ears, I turned until I saw them—a young woman in a dirty white dress, who couldn’t be much older than I, and a tiny frail little boy tied to a post next to her. He couldn’t have been more than three years old.

  All around them were stacks of wood, some of which was already ablaze.

  My blood ran cold at the sight. Those flames were high enough to actually harm them. I was an Earth Mage, I couldn’t do much with fire, but I could certainly put it out!

  I raised the dirt near the fire, and quickly buried the flames, immediately extinguishing them. Only then did I slide off Night’s back, and approach the people I had come to rescue. My blood boiled as I moved. Burning someone to death was so base and barbaric. There was no rationale, no logic that could possibly excuse it. Murdering a woman and a three year old child, because they possessed the ability to wield magic, to my mind was nothing but pure evil!

  No one even dared to breathe as I quickly strode forward, magically shifting the buried wood out of my way. As I got closer, I took more notice of the woman and boy. She was young—so terribly young, barely old enough to be a mother. Her light hair was hanging in disheveled strands, face flushed and streaked with dirt. Relief and terror warred across her face as she watched my approach. The little boy next to her was frankly terrified, with loud sobs pouring out of his mouth.

  Someone was going to pay for this. Dearly.

  I started talking to them both in soothing tones before I reached them. People in pain aren’t known to think rationally, and they were both scared. I’m not sure if they were even thinking at all. The woman might not fully realize that I was here to help. “I am Rhebengarthen, Earth Mage of Hain. I’m here to take you to safety.”

  “My son—” she choked out. “Get my son first.”

  It didn’t matter who I freed first, they were both coming with me. If it eased her worry, then I could cut the boy loose first.

  Pulling my bon’a’lon from its holster at my waist, I triggered the spell. I could almost feel the watching crowd jerk back when the weapon snapped out into its full imposing length. That was perversely satisfying. However, mother and son were terrified too, and that wasn’t a good thing. “Sorry,” I apologized with a slight smile. “I don’t have a dagger on me. Hold still, I don’t want to cut you.”

  They both froze, rigid as marble statues. With utmost care, I sliced the ropes holding the boy bound, and shifted my position slightly, so I could free his mother as well. Almost as soon as he was free, the boy turned and clung to his mother’s legs. The moment her hands were free, she returned the embrace, just as fiercely.

  Oh yes. Someone was definitely going to pay for this!

  “Good mistress,” I had to touch her arm to get her attention and repeat myself before she responded. She blinked tears from her eyes, looking up at me almost shyly. “I’m going to put you on Night,” I gestured to where my Nreesce was standing, guarding my back, “and then we can leave.” As an almost afterthought I asked him, “That is all right?”

  “Under the circumstances, I’ll allow it. You’d better hurry, the crowd is getting restless,” Night advised.

  I was afraid of that. As I led them away from the stakes, the woman flinched in pain. I scanned her quickly, and it didn’t take long to figure out the source of that expression. Her feet and calves were extremely red—burned. She had been closer to the fire than the boy, close enough to be hurt by it. I was mentally kicking myself for not noticing earlier. I stopped, looking at the boy. “Your mother is hurt,” I told him quietly. “I need to carry her to my horse.” I mentally apologized to Night. “Sorry, I doubt he knows what a Nreesce is.”

  “I’ll let it slide,” Night drawled back. “This time.”

  Brat! I released the bon’a
’lon and put it back on my waist to free my hands up. Very reluctantly, the child let go of his mother. I carefully lifted the woman into my arms. She was blushing profusely at being carried by me, a stranger, but there was no help for it. She couldn’t walk with her feet like that.

  “What do you think you are doing?!”

  My head snapped around. A man in his early twenties stood slightly apart from the crowd, his short frame tense with anger and outrage on his face.

  “Good mistress,” I asked softly, “is that the man that betrayed your secret?” I had a hunch that it was.

  “Yes,” she whispered back brokenly. She couldn’t meet my eyes.

  Oh good. I have someone to blame.

  “What do you think you are doing?!” the idiot demanded again in outraged tones.

  I ignored him for a moment, putting mother and child on Night’s back. I had to cheat a little to reach Night’s back—why does he have to be so ridiculously tall?—by raising the ground under my feet a foot or so. She wasn’t entirely comfortable on Night’s bare back, making me wish that I’d had time to saddle him before leaving. A saddle would give her something to cling to. The crowd around me was starting to mutter angrily, but I didn’t acknowledge them as I scooped the boy up and put him in front of his mother. Once they were both settled, I turned back to the angry man confronting me.

  I wanted to make him pay. I wanted him to know exactly the terror that he had intended for his victims. But I didn’t want to lower myself to his sadistic level either.

  From the ether of desperation, inspiration struck me squarely.

  Ooh. That’ll work!

  A smile of fierce anticipation crossed my face. I manipulated the ground under the man, so that it shot him up into the air, tossing him in my direction. He landed flat on his face with a most satisfying thud.

  As he struggled to his feet, I drew my bon’a’lon again, deliberately nicking my thumb as I did so. Before the man had completely regained his feet, I spun the bon’a’lon around and shallowly cut his cheek. He fell back with a hiss of pain, hand automatically covering his face.