Gavin nodded as he scratched at his chin. “So…you seek power.”
Jasper was quick to shake his head side to side, saying, “Oh, no, sir! I seek knowledge. I don’t know if I’ll ever know why I was born with this power and my sister or my mother wasn’t; from everything I’ve read, no one knows why wizards are wizards, but I want to explore this and understand it as best I can.”
“Tell me about your family, Jasper,” Gavin said.
“I’m the oldest, and it’s just my mother, my sister, and me. My father…well, I never really knew him. Mother told me he was a leatherworker, and we were traveling to the capital where he was going to open a shop. My sister was still a babe. I wasn’t much older. Mother said they came on us out of the forest while we camped. Father fought them off, but he was so wounded he didn’t make it. We made it to the capital, and Uncle Fallon has been helping us ever since. Mother doesn’t really like it, but she’s been so busy raising my sister it’s been difficult to find paying work.”
Gavin nodded. “I’m sorry you never had the chance to know your father really well, Jasper. Do you know what happened to the bandits who attacked your family?”
“They ran into a mounted patrol as they fled my father. The patrol brought them back to our camp to verify the truth of the story the bandits told them, and a week later, they were hung for banditry in Thartan.”
“Well,” Gavin said, “that saves me from having to track them down, then.”
Astonishment dominated Jasper’s expression as he looked at Gavin, saying, “You’d track them down…even after all this time? I mean, I was barely walking when it happened.”
“I can’t promise I would’ve been successful, but oh yes. I would certainly have spent effort and resources to learn if any of them still lived yet and correct that if they did.” A silence descended on the table for several moments before Gavin resumed speaking. “Very well. You should be aware that I no longer have any apprentices. Those the people of the city at large know as ‘the Apprentices’ completed their apprenticeships a few days ago. Are you certain you want to become my apprentice?”
Jasper nodded.
“So be it. Under the authority vested in my by Article 23 of the Arcanists’ Code, I hereby name you, Jasper, to be my apprentice as was in the old ways. As I expect you to devote your full time to the tasks and studies I assign you, I will pay you a monthly stipend to ensure your needs are met. Any surplus is yours to do with as you choose.”
“Did you pay your former apprentices a stipend, sir?” Jasper asked.
“I did not.”
“Then, I won’t-”
“Jasper, my mentor paid me a monthly stipend during my time with him, and my former apprentices are the Heirs to the Great Houses of Tel. The stipend my mentor paid me—and I will pay you—would have been little more than a rounding error to their finances.”
“Oh.”
“You’ll start tomorrow. I’ll have Wynn work with you to get an understanding of what you already know, and we’ll work out a study plan from there. Oh, that’s something else. You won’t be working with me exclusively; for a while, at least, you’ll split your study time between myself and my former apprentices. I want them to have some experience teaching others. Is this a problem?”
“Oh, no, sir…but if they’re not your apprentices anymore?”
Gavin smiled. “Just because there’s nothing else I have to teach them doesn’t mean there’s nothing else for them to learn.”
Just then, the door to the basement flew open and slammed against its stop. Heavy footfalls heralded the arrival of a Wraith in plain clothes who had been watching the house.
“Milord, come quickly,” the Wraith said. “There are fighters assaulting the palace gates!”
Chapter 32
Gavin stared at the woman for no more than a heartbeat. He was out of his chair faster than someone could snap their fingers and striding toward the staircase.
“What information do you have?”
The woman shrugged. “Not much. A group of people dressed like a mix of refugees, itinerant traders, and such charged the gates. The Cavaliers are trying to beat them back far enough to lower the portcullis, but the last I saw, it was a stalemate.”
By now, Gavin was taking the stairs two at a time, and Fallon and Jasper were just starting to stand.
“What should we do?” Fallon asked.
Gavin stopped at the landing in the middle of the stairs and looked at his two guests. For a heartbeat, he was silent but then said, “Wait here, or maybe visit a bakery for a pastry. My people and I will handle this.”
Xythe followed the message runner through the streets of the Vushaari capital. In many ways, it felt very odd to be outside and around people after all the years of her youth, but her parents had told her she needed to follow her heart and dreams…which meant finding Kirloth and begging him to teach her. Myriad scents assaulted her as they entered the markets, and Xythe smiled as they passed a particularly fragrant bakery; she had always loved the scents of fresh bread and pastries.
“The street leading to the palace is just up here,” the runner said.
“I appreciate you helping me find my way,” Xythe said. “This place is both like and unlike my home. I fear I would’ve been lost beyond hope, were it not for you.”
The young man blushed. “You’re welcome. It’s what I do. I want to start my own courier business when I get older…if I can find the coin for it.”
“Before we part, give me your name and details on how to find you. I shall speak of your kindness and goals to my mentor…if he will have me.”
The young man stopped short and stared at her. “You would mention me t-to Kirloth?”
“Is this unwise? What little I interacted with him in my homeland, he seemed to be a very kind soul. Was I wrong?”
“Oh, no! It isn’t that at all. It’s just he has the ears of the King and Crown Princess. I never thought I would come to the attention of someone like that. That’s a greater kindness than I could ever hope to repay.” A commotion drew the young man’s attention, and he moved to stop a town guardsman. “Jeth, is something wrong? Why are all these people-”
“Apologies, Brant,” the guardsman said. “A mass of people have assaulted the palace gates, and they’re calling in anyone available. You shouldn’t be anywhere near there.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Brant turned back to Xythe. “I don’t think we’ll reach the palace gates.”
“Yes, I heard. Tell me how to reach the palace gates. I shall help with the defense, but I would not have you endangered.”
“Uh…I’m not sure. You’re my responsibility.”
Xythe smiled, which given the rows of flesh-rending teeth might not have been the best choice. “Child, I have more years with my blades than your defenders have been alive…and my people were created for battle. Tell me how to reach the palace gate.”
“Have your people set up on the roofs and high locations around the fighting with bows and crossbows,” Gavin said, as he and the female Wraith exited the house. “I don’t want you to be noticed, but if targets of opportunity present themselves, there’s no reason not to take advantage.”
The woman nodded and moved off to collect her fellows.
Gavin turned left and headed for the palace. It wasn’t long at all before he heard the sounds of fighting, and he soon turned a corner and found himself looking at the back of a mass of people fighting with the Cavaliers to breach the palace gates. There were more fighters than could conveniently attack the gates, and those toward the rear served as a guard to protect against being flanked. Several noticed Gavin as he moved to the center of the street and maintained a steady pace toward the gates. The fighters started to gather, watching Gavin.
“Well, I suppose they should know who they face…at the very least,” Gavin whispered. He squared his shoulders, focused his mind on his intent, and invoked the Word, “Thyphos.” Thirty feet above Gavin’s head, the fifteen-feet-wide battl
e standard of Kirloth flashed into being, bright enough to stand out well against the morning sun.
The men stopped, staring at the glowing standard. They glanced at one another, and more than one glanced around as if trying to find a side street that would allow him or her to slip away. Gavin’s eyes scanned the crowd as he waited for them to make a move, and he heard footfalls at his side. Glancing to his side, Gavin saw a tall figure in a brown traveling robe.
“Master Kirloth,” the figure said, the voice eerily feminine, “I have traveled from my homeland to beg you to teach me. I am Xythe; I do not know if you remember me.”
“I’m afraid I’m not in a position to discuss much right now,” Gavin said, the most of his attention on the would-be fighters watching him. “I have this little problem to deal with.”
“I would assist you, if you’ll permit it.” Xythe said and removed her robe.
Gavin spared her a quick glance, his eyes flitting across the various weapons he could see. “Ah…why not. I wouldn’t want you to be bored.”
Xythe drew two short swords that would’ve been full-length longswords for anyone Gavin’s size, and her lips drew back in an almost-feral grin. “When do we commence hostilities?”
Gavin started to speak, but more noise behind him drew his attention. He looked over his shoulder and saw a sizeable force of Cavaliers and town guard turn the corner. “Xythe, we need to step aside to make room for our friends. I’m sure they wouldn’t like it if we didn’t share.”
Now, the fighters ahead of them looked even more unsure. In a gradual progression from the center of the group to the outer edge, the fighters laid down their arms one-by-one and knelt, lacing their fingers behind their heads.
The Cavaliers leading the town guard arrived, and Gavin looked to the officer in charge. She wasn’t someone Gavin recognized.
“Not my preferred method of starting a day,” Gavin said, his tone conversational.
“No, not at all,” the Cavalier said. “Is this Dracon with you?”
“Yes. Her name is Xythe, and she has traveled to seek apprenticeship with me.”
“I’ve never known wizards to be much fighters,” the Cavalier said, “no offense.”
Gavin smiled. “By and large, we’re not…but I have a feeling Xythe will surprise you. After all, the Dracons were created to be shock troops during the Godswar, and they haven’t let their training slip.”
“Sergeant,” the Cavalier said, “have the town guard take charge of those surrendered combatants. I want them treated well and with honor; we’ll want to interrogate them later.”
Several town guard started moving toward the kneeling fighters when several in the back ranks of those trying to break through the gate turned and saw them. Gavin recognized the threat they posed to their surprise flank attack and knew moments counted. He snapped his fingers, saying, “Go, Xythe!”
Xythe went straight to a sprint, running all out. As she neared the kneeling fighters, she pushed off with her legs and vaulted over them, resuming her sprint as she touched the ground once more. In less than a minute, she reached those fighters who had turned and started cutting them down to keep them from alerting their fellows.
Xythe’s blades danced through blocks and strikes, and the rear-most ranks of the fighters fell like wheat at harvest before her. When a fighter in front of her spun and drew back his blade, Xythe didn’t hesitate. She leaned down, turning her head to one side and used her razor-sharp teeth to rip out the man’s throat in a geyser of blood all while cutting down another fighter with each sword. She spat out the remains of the man’s throat as she lifted her right foot and kicked the corpse into the back of the next fighter.
“By the gods…” the Cavalier at Gavin’s side whispered. Gavin glanced her way and saw she was a little pale.
“Yup…just think what it would be like if we had twenty of her people.”
“It would be a slaughter,” the Cavalier said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Xythe was now well into the fourth rank from the rear and those at the extreme sides around her were gathering to surround her. TWANGs of crossbows and bows erupted from the roofs of the buildings all around them, and quarrels and arrows cut down many of those who were moving to surround Xythe.
Gavin saw several still standing, and he focused on the fighters assaulting the gate as a whole, invoking the Word, “Thraxys.”
Those few remaining from the four, rear-most ranks collapsed to the ground dead, and some thirty more ahead of Xythe joined them. By now, no more than three ranks of fighters remained between Xythe and the gate, and they realized in short order they had been flanked.
“I think it’s about time for you,” Gavin said. “They look about ready to rout.”
The Cavalier nodded and drew her sword. She held it high, shouting, “For Vushaar and the King!” Those Cavaliers behind her took up the cry, and the entire group of them charged the gates.
Faced with a bloody demon of claws, teeth, scales, and blades in their midst—soon to be joined by upwards of a hundred Cavaliers—the fighters began shouting their surrender. Of the three hundred fighters that began the assault on the palace gates, a little less than seventy-five surrendered…and not even half of those were uninjured.
Chapter 33
A whirlwind of activity subsumed the palace complex in the days following the attack. While the quick response of Gavin and Xythe ensured the attack was short-lived, the attack still wounded or killed Cavaliers. Several artisans collaborated to repair what little damage to the gates existed, and several cleaning crews expended a great amount of effort swabbing the blood off the paving stones right outside the palace gates.
About a week after the attack, the king held a ceremony and banquet to honor all those who rushed to defend the palace gates…including Gavin, Xythe, and Gavin’s former apprentices. The ceremony was a brief affair, with all due gravitas and gratitude from the King, and the banquet was a pleasant and stately affair for the necessary mingling such an event almost demanded.
“Oh, my,” Kiri said in a hushed tone as she leaned close to Lillian. “Gavin is not pleased at all with my father calling him out in front of everyone, is he?”
Lillian chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. The only reason—the only reason whatsoever—Gavin agreed to appear and accept the award your father presented is that he didn’t want us—Mariana, Wynn, Braden, and Xythe—to be passed over as well or feel like we had to refuse. I was there when the royal courier arrived with Gavin’s invitation, you know.”
“You never told me that! What did he do?”
“When he opened the envelope and read the invitation, I swear I saw his eyes flash—literally flash—and the invitation erupted in flame. I never heard or saw him invoke a Word. He just suddenly held a pile of ash in his hand. I thought the courier was going to pass out or soil himself. I guess Gavin realized what he’d done, because then, he invoked a Word that reconstituted the invitation in its pristine condition. Let me tell you; the courier looked beyond terrified at that point. Gavin looked at the courier, took a deep breath, and said, ‘Tell him I accept.’ The courier bolted out of the basement like he feared for his life.”
“Oh, that poor boy,” Kiri replied, failing to contain her mirth. “I’ll have Father give him a bonus; I’d say he earned it.”
“I really love the string quartet. Do they host concerts or anything? I could sit and listen to them play for hours.”
On the opposite side of the banquet hall from Kiri and Lillian, Count Varkas held court with a number of sycophants and toadies, a crystal glass in his hand and oft refilled.
“What’s your take on the state of Vushaar, Varkas?” Joric Torgunson, Baron of Torstead, asked as he lifted his own glass to his lips.
“I tell you, Joric, I cannot see as how anything other than base sentimentality guided the King to re-affirming his daughter as the Crown Princess…especially now that she’s a slave of all things. There’s no hope of continuing the dynast
y, unless he takes a new wife and disinherits Kiri, and we’ve never held to that silly nonsense of adoption. Blood is all that matters, as it should.”
“I thought you voted to support her re-affirmation as Crown Princess in that Privy Council meeting.”
“Ha,” Varkas barked. “I only did so because the peasants and the merchants forced my hand by speaking before me. I don’t know how anyone could ever conceive she’ll have what it takes to lead this country. Why, the only place that wench deserves to be is in my bedchamber, begging for mercy.”
A hush radiated outward from Count Varkas and Baron Torstead, and those around them started drawing back until they were singled out by a ring of empty floorspace bounded by offended expressions all around.
“Look at these sheep, Torstead,” Varkas said, his voice still a bit raised as he gestured around him with his glass. “Every one of them acts like Terris Muran is still a man to be feared. How long do you think it will be before they finally see his time is ending?”
“Not everyone here is a sheep, Varkas,” Baron Torstead countered, his eyes looking over Varkas’s right shoulder.
“Oh? Surely, you don’t think I should fear the King?”
“Everyone with any sense fears the King,” Torstead said, “but no. There’s someone about whom you should have far more immediate concerns.”
“Really? Who?”
Baron Torstead jerked his chin to point over Varkas’s right shoulder, saying, “Him.”
Varkas turned, swaying a bit and sloshing his glass. He found one face not expressing surprise or offense. That face was granite for all it expressed anything, and the cold, passionless glare carried a far more effective doom than any of those surprised or offended.
Into Vushaar Page 20