A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals) (29 page)

“That’s not funny,” Vye said to Argos.

“Do I strike you as the joking type?” Argos retorted.

“Now you’re mocking me,” Vye insisted.

“I know not what you mean,” Argos insisted. “That is the man who was with Frost the day we captured him. And I have not seen him since.”

“Will you let me go, so I can finish this?” she asked her old enemy...

---

...Vye sipped her tea. Back on the couch in the room with the fireplace. It was bitter this time. Too much lemon. Frost, the older Frost, was still stoking the fire, as if that’s all he ever did. He noticed Vye was back in the room.

“Well?” he said, “Any luck?”

“Yeah, I know who we’re looking for,” Vye said, “Though I’m having trouble believing it myself.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know what his real name was,” Vye said, “But I knew him as the jester. I called him Flopson.”

Chapter
53: Out of the Volcano, Into the Tidal Wave

Eric opened a portal, transporting himself, Landora, Duncan, and Nuria to the home of Xerxes and Xanathos, who were more commonly referred to as The Twins. Eric’s first students since he’d started training Landora. Two fifteen-year-old boys, identical despite their best attempts to be different. They weren’t as powerful as Landora, and probably not even as versatile as Nuria, but they could use magic, and that was something Eric needed desperately.

As soon as the Twins were packed and ready, Eric opened another portal, this time to the Volcano. He was worried about opening two portals just before he would be opening a much bigger, much longer-lasting Gate, but they needed to move fast. They arrived at the volcano as the sun rose above the highest of the mountains.

But Duncan couldn’t see the sun. Because the smoke coming out of the mouth of the volcano was so dense it felt like midnight. He knew nothing about volcanoes, except what he had read a decade ago in a class. But he didn’t need books to tell him what his feet were telling him. The ground was shaking. This volcano would go up in minutes.

The Turin army was assembled across the black rock. To their credit, they were trying to move off the fiery mountain, but there was no way to get them clear before it erupted. They were relieved to see Eric and the others appear.

“Everybody get ready!” Eric called before turning to Duncan. “Where are we sending them?”

“Anuen,” Duncan said.

“Why!?” Eric demanded as he began to move his arms to open yet another Gate.

“I have reason to believe the enemy will attack that city,” Duncan called over the roar of the mountain, “He can’t attack Sayil right away with a traditional army. You guys are too deep in the forest. So if you’re going to move an army anywhere, that would be the place to land.”

“Very well,” Eric said, finishing the ritual, “We’ll go to Anuen. But you better go first. I don’t want to send a Turin army to your capital without someone to explain what’s going on. Especially after what happened to the Queen.”

“Agreed!” Duncan yelled. The volcano belched a new cloud of dust and soot. For a brief moment, he thought he saw someone else, floating through the smoke high above the volcano. But he didn’t have time to think about it. They were seconds away from disaster.

“Nuria! Help Eric as much as you can. I have to go first.”

Nuria nodded. Already, she was getting in position next to Landora and the Twins, ready to lend her aide.

Duncan almost couldn’t see the Gate at first, since it was primarily outlined in smoke. But when the other mages added their power to the spell, it widened, and Duncan could actually see a faint image through it. He could see the shores outside the Castle Anuen...

“Good luck!” he yelled, “Everybody, follow me!”

And he ran through.

The Turin army, usually a very disciplined force, charged for the exit. They could only get through four or five at a time, and the logjam was made worse on the other side, since they stumbled upon one another at the entrance. It was everything Duncan could do to get them to clear out in an orderly fashion.

And then the volcano burst. No longer content to fire black smoke into the air, it exploded. The opening at the top cracked wider as the surrounding rocks were consumed by the magma. The mountain vomited up its molten core.

Landora had to think fast. She turned away from the Gate, and instead concentrated on covering the troops in their retreat. She couldn’t do much. Some of the soldiers were consumed by the fire and there was no way she could help. There simply wasn’t enough power available to her to save everyone.

And the Gate narrowed as she turned away, reducing the speed of their retreat. And now the fire that had been shot up into the air was raining down on them. Nuria had to turn to help Landora protect what was left of the army. And still their numbers dwindled, and still the Gate got smaller.

“We’re not going to be able to get everyone out!” Landora shouted over the thunderous din.

“We’ll get as many as we can!” Eric called back.

The soldiers ran, stumbling, tripping, trying to reach the shadow portal. There wasn’t room for everyone, but there was still time for each of them to hope he wasn’t one of those left behind.

That was when the earthquake hit.

Everybody lost their footing. Every single person on that mountain. All five mages. The hundreds of soldiers. Everyone. The ground beneath the mesa had given way. And the volcano erupted again.

The Gate almost shut completely. Eric was sprawled out on the stone floor. He held his hand out, keeping the Gate from closing. But he was alone. Xerxes had been knocked out by the tectonic shift. And Xanathos was crawling to his brother’s side. Landora was lying on her back, facing up into the black and red sky, trying to keep the firmament from crushing them all. Nuria was healing her own broken leg.

“We’re out of time!” Eric shouted. And he was right. “Xanathos, get your brother through the Gate!”

The standing Twin cradled his unconscious Twin and ran through the Gate. Landora could see the lava streaming down the side of the hill on all sides. There was nothing more she could do. No amount of energy she spent would save anyone.

“Landora! Nuria! Get out of here!” Eric shouted.

Landora helped Nuria to her feet, racing to the Gate. Once they were clear, he could see his true enemy. Not the volcano, but Helios, who, with the power of the fire of the sun, had urged the mountain to explode. The evil mage hovered high in the air, summoning a storm of lava from the bowels of the earth.

Eric knew he was out of time. But he also knew Helios was in deep concentration. He would never be more vulnerable.

“Archers!” Eric shouted, pointing up at the hovering mage, “Shoot him out of the sky.”

The ground shook. The fiery rain stormed down on everyone. But there were still more than a hundred archers, and they had still been practicing for years. They shot a volley up at Helios. He ignored them. Arrows had never hurt him before. Why would they hurt him now?

But the Turin archers hadn’t used their regular arrows. They always carried one flammable arrow in their fletchers. Usually, someone would have to walk around with a torch to light all the points. But the volcano made it much easier. As each arrow rose into the thick, heated air, they blazed to light.

Now Helios knew he was in trouble. He put up his defenses, preparing to deflect the burning ammunition. But Eric had counted on that. He knew that a hundred flaming arrows would distract his enemy. Eric sent a jet of magma flying at Helios’ head from the other direction.

Helios deflected the arrows with one hand, holding up his magical barrier as best he could. He stretched out his other hand, instinctively hoping to deflect the stream of fiery death...

And that’s when he remembered he didn’t have another hand. It was the limb Vye had severed. The one he had never bothered to replace.

The slag torrent connected with Helios. He had survived two thousand years as a villainous mage. He had waited patiently, honing his skills, until he could release his Master. He had brought Grimsor back to this world, hoping to share in the spoils of the coming war.

But instead, he was turned to ashes and scattered in the currents of the blazing heat.

Eric smiled at his enemy’s demise, even though the Gate was now closed. He collapsed to the ground, utterly spent. And then the ground below him cracked open, and he was swallowed into the gaping maw of the hungry fire.

---

Duncan helped Landora to her feet, relieved to see Nuria cradled under her protective arms. The Gate closed behind her and the smoke faded away.

“We made it!” Landora shouted.

“Not quite yet,” Duncan warned.

“What do you mean?” she asked, but didn’t need him to answer. Because she saw it. The Tidal Wave that was rising over Anuen. A hundred feet high and climbing. And on the crest of the waves, just behind the crushing surge, Grimsor’s invasion fleet.

“We have to evacuate the city!” Nuria cried out.

“It’s too late,” Duncan said, “That wave will kill everyone for miles and miles.”

Even the Council, standing awake on the parapet of the Castle, was frozen. What could they do? The fate of Anuen was sealed. They were all destined for a watery grave...

Chapter
54: The Spring Festival

Nineteen
Years Ago...

It had been a year since Michael’s parents had returned to Hartstone. Michael and his father had entered a truce. A detente. Civility during meals and formal events. Complete isolation at all other times. Even sailing to Ralsean, they managed to avoid each other entirely except for supper.

The Stormbearer was taking Michael, his parents, and members of the court to the Spring Festival, an event
Count Ralsean failed to make annual. Still it was enjoyable.
Bards
singing tales, dancers in flamboyant decor,
even Flopson was there
, entertaining the children
. Michael stopped to enjoy the show. Landos stepped up beside him.

“Thanks for letting me into the painting,” Landos said.

“You deserved it,” Michael said. “How’s our clown doing?”

“Pretty good, I gotta say,” Landos replied.

At the moment, Flopson was juggling a bevy of colored balls in front of a small crowd of children.

“I can’t find the blue one,” he proclaimed. Every time he said it, the kids would shout out, “There it is!” But as soon as they did, it would disappear again, and Flopson would look at them, brow furrowed, “Where? I don’t see it.” And they would laugh.

“Somebody must have stolen it,” the juggler said. “Who took my blue balls?”

At this, the adults all giggled. The kids, not getting the joke, really, laughed instead at the man’s crumpled face, who seemed to be looking very hard for his lost ball.

“Did you take my blue ball?” the juggler asked of Gareth Vye, the oldest of the Vye brothers.

“No,” he protested, staunchly.

“How about you?” the juggler asked, approaching an awkward young girl. She was eleven, at best. Gawky. Like she hadn’t quite grown into her body yet. “What’s your name?”

“Sarah” she mumbled, as though she was embarrassed to have a name. Michael then identified her as the youngest of Count Ralsean’s children.

“You didn’t take my ball, did you?” the juggler asked, sweetly.

“No,” the girl said, as though offended by the accusation.

“Do you know who did?”

“Why would I know?”

“Let me tell you a secret,” Flopson said and leaned in to whisper in Sarah’s ear.
Michael
was astounded that he kept juggling the rest of his
balls
while doing all that leaning and whispering.

“No he didn’t,” Sarah objected, red-faced at being the center of so much attention.

“I think he did,” Flopson said, then turned sternly to Michael. His expression was very odd, as though he really were a master inquisitor, the illusion only broken by his ridiculous garb and juggling.

“So you think, just because you’re going to rule all of Deliem, that you can take my blue ball?”

Michael didn’t know what Flopson was getting at, but he decided to play along.

“That’s ridiculous, I didn’t--”

“Sarah thinks you did,” the jester continued. He winked at the girl, then turned sternly back to Michael.

“Let me see something,” he said, and leaned in closer. “Open your mouth.”

Michael looked from side to side, then opened his mouth. Flopson leaned in, now juggling all the balls with his left hand while his right hand produced an eye glass. He peered into Michael’s mouth.

He then suddenly leaned back and coughed, “Had a bit of the garlic bread today, did we?”

This garnered a laugh from everyone, including Michael.

“Now, I think I see the problem,” the jester said. “I’m just going to need you to open your mouth one more time…and…” the man reached his hand into Michael’s mouth. Michael suddenly felt that his mouth was full, and the jester removed a blue juggling ball, “…there we have it!”

The audience applauded as the jester added the blue ball back to the mix. “Thank you, thank you! My name is Flopson, the Magnificent, but you can just call me Magnificent, if that’s easier to remember.” Another slight chuckle. “And now, a reward for the girl who helped me find my missing ball.”

Flopson continued to juggle, non-stop, until he was next to Sarah again. Then, he caught each ball, one by one, until only the blue ball was left in the air. Faster than the eye could see, he reached up with his free hand and nabbed the ball, but when his hand came to a rest, it was instead holding a little rose.

“This is for you,” Flopson said. “Remember, when you’re older, that I was the first one to give you a rose.” Flopson winked, the audience awwwwed, and the show continued. Sarah smiled. And she had a pretty smile, even at that age. Michael and Landos weren’t paying attention to her. Not in that way. But that was where that smile was born.

Flopson put away his gear as the crowd dispersed. Michael and Landos approached the jester, clapping their own personal applause.

“Well done,” Michael said. “How did you get so good at those tricks?”

“Practice,” was all Flopson could say.

“Must have been a lot of practice,” Landos commented.

“You have no idea,” Flopson said, skewing slightly darker than his usual sense of humor. But he quickly righted the ship.
“Your
Mom also helped me get really good at
handling my balls
.
”

“Very funny,” Landos sneered, but it was all in good fun.

“Looks like you have a visitor,” Flopson said to Michael, and with a flick of his eyes, he pointed over Michael’s shoulder.

Michael turned around to see Lady Vivian. She was heavier than he remembered. And her bosom, already the subject of many conversations around Castle Hartstone, was somehow even more pronounced now. Of course, the small boy she held in her arms might have explained all that.

Michael tried desperately to gauge the boy’s height and weight. How old was that child? Two months? Four? Five? Michael realized he had no idea what a baby looked like at any given age.

“I just wanted to say that he really enjoyed your show,” Vivian told Flopson, referrin
g to what was clearly her son. Never had an infant so taken after his mother in appearance as this kid.

“Thank you,” Flopson rejoined, “And I would love to enjoy this show...” he continued, referring to the impending reunion between Michael and Vivian, “But I think I’ll leave you two alone.”

And with that, he and Landos traipsed off to join any festivity that was miles away from there.

“How are you?” Michael asked.

“He’s not yours,” Vivian said, almost too quickly. “If you were wondering.”

“I was,” Michael said. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Vivian said. “He’s only two months old. I don’t know if you know how all that stuff works, but he couldn’t--”

“Yeah, I got it,” Michael said. “I went to the Academy. I know how...that stuff works.”

“How’s your father?” Vivian asked, just before realizing it was the wrong question to ask. “Never mind. I don’t even really want to know.”

“I umm...” Michael said, “I haven’t really been... I haven’t heard any news from Arwall. Who’s the... Who did you marry, in the end?”

“Lord Kelliwick,” she blurted out, as though proud. “He’s a good man. Terrible at math, but he’s funny. And he’s really good at not being an asshole.”

Michael nodded. He deserved that one.

“Well, sorry about that. About being really good at being an asshole.”

The boy in her arms tugged at her nose, as though that was his newest toy and he wanted it all for himself.

“What’s that?” Vivian said, in the silly voice we all use when speaking to infants, “You want my nose? But you already have a nose. What are you going to do with a second nose, huh? Huh?”

And then she smothered the child with kisses. And Michael smiled, because whatever else he was feeling, he could tell that Vivian loved this child, and that she would be an excellent mother.

“Anyway,” Michael said. “It’s good to see you. You look great.”

“Oh, please, I’m fat and old.”

“You’re beautiful. Anyone says otherwise, I want you to send me a message, and I’ll come over and beat them up.”

“I could beat you up,” Vivian retorted, but she smiled.

“Well, I’ll hire someone to beat them up, anyway.”

“Thanks.”

For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, not knowing what to say. In their world, it was as likely as not that this would be the last time they would see each other. And there might have been nothing left to say, but how could anyone ever be sure?

“Well, I should get back to my father,” Michael said, knowing that was the wrong thing to say.

“Yeah, I have to go,” Vivian said, ignoring his gaffe. They smiled awkwardly, and turned to leave.

As Vivian strolled off, she cooed at her child, smiling with a secret, “Thank Halinor he doesn’t know the difference between a two month old and a four month old, does he? No he doesn’t. No he doesn’t.” The baby tugged at her hair, as though it was even more novel than her nose.

“Let go of Mommy’s hair,” Vivian said, gently removing his clutched fingers from her head. “Don’t worry, Duncan, you’ll have hair soon enough.”