A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (55 page)

“It is good to be back.” He made a face. “Even as a temp.
Hmm . . . My first project shall be to regain my elfin heritage.”

“Wonderful!” Kasile said. “Many have tried, but if anyone
can succeed it is you, Greater Mage.”

Eric's eyes looked at her with disdain. “My title is 'Sage,'
thank you.” He inspected Siron's armor. “What manner of armor are you wearing?
I have not seen the likes of it before.”

“Two thousand years is a long time, Gre-Sage Tymh, and in
that time technology has advanced in the arts of smithery and smelting. My
armor is neither bronze nor iron, but a metal alloy. It is both lighter and
stronger than the armor of your time.”

“I'm more interested in where you got the keys,” Kasile
said.

A grin wormed its way across Siron's formal face. “Ah, yes,
the keys. Well, your Highness, the guard on duty was doing such an admirable
job that I felt he deserved a vacation.” Siron led his companions out of the
prison. “To the land of dreams.”

A uniformed man was sprawled on the floor. Kasile knelt to
check his pulse.

“We must hurry,” Siron insisted. “When we reveal that so
reputable a figure as Dengel Tymh was the force behind Mercenary Watley's
rescue of Your Highness, as opposed to a plot within his guild, together with
the physical evidence I have gathered, both your names shall be cleared.”

“By the same stroke, yours shall be stained. Why are you
helping us?” Dengel asked.

Siron showed him the crest on his shield in response. “My
family has stood guard over the royal family for generations beyond count. My
ancestral grandfather was the personal bodyguard of Queen Shalidthros herself,
his son became the second captain of the Royal Guard, that son's daughter was
the personal aide to Queen Shalidthros' grandson in the war of the Mana Storm
and that daughter's—”

“Enough.” Dengel said, “We understand.”

“Indeed, it is my duty to be the Crown's sword and shield,”
Siron replied. “I had the opportunity to do so in Roalt's sewers and I failed.
I shall not fail again.”

“If you are so devoted, then why isn't your father?” Dengel
asked.

“My father and I . . . we are of different minds,” Siron
said. “He does not believe there is honor in being a sword and shield. He would
rather be a crown.”

“When did this difference of opinion begin?”

“One week ago; after the Bloody Daggers and yourselves
rescued Her Highness and me. It was then that I realized the extent of my
father's plan. I have spent the time hence preparing for this day.” Dengel
asked how he learned of his father's plans, but Kasile interrupted.

“He's answered enough questions. He freed us from
imprisonment and gave us proof of his father's foul play. Isn't that enough?”

Siron bowed his head. “Your Highness has too much trust in
me,” he said meekly.

Kasile smiled. “Nonsense. Just because your father is a
villainous traitor doesn't mean you are.”

Siron bowed his head a little lower.

The trio ascended the spiral staircase to the ground floor
of the castle and once out of the darkness, Eric could see his companions
clearly. Siron's armor was best described as “stream-lined plate mail”: plates
of purple metal interwoven with each other to form a gorget, curiass, greaves,
gauntlets, and burgonet. The armor was a solid defense without slowing him down
or restricting his movement. His family's crest decorated the center of the
breastplate, the shoulders, and the back of each palm.

The full armor starkly contrasted Kasile. The last time Eric
saw her she wore three layers of skirt. Now she had nothing but a small and
thin shift. There was no sign of embarrassment on her face, but Eric could feel
it through their link.

“Siron,” she said calmly, “is the repository guarded?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Siron remedied the problem by looking
at a point just above Kasile's head. “I will rectify that. Follow me, please.”
He hurriedly walked past her.

Calm and polite, he approached the guard standing duty. Without
betraying a hint of emotion, he knocked her out and gestured his allies
forward. Before they could turn on the lights, the sound of thunder filled the
air. Five bullets hit Eric's body and many more the wall behind him. The
seconds ticked by. He felt like he'd been stung by a hive of bees, but he was
still alive. Then he heard the clang of cans against stone.

The lights activated and the trio found themselves face to
face with guards armed with muskets. They wobbled and crashed into each other.
Instead of soldiers, they looked like drunken gongs.

“Former Crown Princess Kasile,” said the least dizzy
soldier, “you and your accomplices are—” A fellow crashed into and knocked him
over. “Get off me, you fool!”

“I'm right!” Kasile said. “Siron has proof of his father's
treason!”

“We are under orders not to . . .” The soldier tried to push
his fellow off, failed, and slouched. “Abyss take it! Not to listen to a slave
of the Dragon's Cult.”

“Allow me,” Dengel said, and the two soldiers smashed into
the ceiling. “As for the rest of you: do you work for Selen Esrah?”

“It's obvious you don't work for my father,” Kasile said. “Ataidar
soldiers would never be stupid enough to use such obsolete weaponry.”

Obsolete weaponry!? They're using guns!

Did they not teach that in school?

Oh . . .yeah . . . the 'will to live' barrier.

Yes, the 'will to live' barrier, as you call it, is an
involuntary ability inherent in both sapients and monsters. It the reason you
failed to harm the xethras. Their will to live was stronger than your will to
kill them and their spiritual power exceeded yours. Some fool in my time
invented guns but they were only useful in Ceiha because of the Dry Land Curse.
It weakened their spirits to the point that they could no longer use the
barrier. A bullet propelled with explosive powder is sterile, mechanical, and
therefore not chaotic. Those empowered by Lady Chaos are rendered immune to
such things. If you read my book
The Spirit and Its Power
, you would
know all this.

“My father believed no one would notice him stockpiling
useless weapons.” Siron fingered a bayonet. “They were a ruse for truly useful
ones.”

“Allow me, Your Highness, to validate this theory.” Dengel
grabbed a soldier and looked him full in the eyes. After four seconds, the man
went limp and Dengel dropped him. “They are common thugs disguised as royal
guards and they were looting the repository when we walked in. The guns were
given to them by Duke Selen Esrah. He possessed no further information.”

“What's wrong with him?” Kasile asked. “He's not breathing.”

“That is because he is dead.” Dengel said casually. “The
fastest way to extract information is also the most dangerous for the subject.”

For a moment, Kasile looked ready to smack Dengel. She
inhaled, exhaled, and said, “You're right. This is a palace coup. Time is of
the essence.”

She said no more on the subject. Instead, she looked for her
goal. She found a leather vest reinforced with metal plates that spilled into a
short skirt. She pulled it on and strapped a camail around her neck. For her
legs, she found a pair of knee-length leather boots and for her arms a pair of
leather gloves and a buckler. She twisted her long hair into a tight bun behind
her head and covered it with a metal helmet. As a final touch, she attached a short
sword to her waist. All of it had seen better days, but the effect was
impressive: Kasile had transformed from a prison wretch into a warrior.

The new party left the repository to confront the evil
mastermind: a disowned princess, a noble with more loyalty than sense, and a
two thousand-year-old mage in a teenage body.

Many soldiers blocked their path, but few attacked. When
they saw Kasile or Siron, they hesitated, and Dengel brushed them aside like
flies. Every soldier wearing Esrah's red and silver met the same fate. Be it
loyalty or confusion they couldn't bring themselves to attack their boss' son
or their princess and so they were wiped out by the undead mage.

 Dengel made a pointing of comparing it to Eric's arrest.
I
could have done this then too.
All of Dengel's power was useless as a
passenger; all of his knowledge was useless unless Eric spent years developing
his own power.
What good can I do if you are too weak to make use of me?

At last the party came to a great double door marked by the Royal
Crest writ large and engraved in gold and silver and precious gems; the
entrance to the throne room. The door itself was ten feet tall and made of
steel. Ten strong men were required to open half of it in ages past. Dengel
pushed them both open through the strength of his spirit. He walked inside
confidently; secure in his power.

There the king sat at a table with a quill in his hands,
parchment in front of him and soldiers circling him. A man in red and silver
robes admired the throne. The Crest of House Esrah blazed on his cape. Soon-to-be-king
Esrah ordered his soldiers to apprehend the “interlopers” and at once, Dengel
threw them all against the floor like so many dolls.

“Father! I am armed with evidence of your evil plan. Yield
for the Crown's mercy.”

 Duke Selen Esrah stuck his hands into his pockets and
smiled. No hatred or surprise or sorrow could be seen on his face. “My son, why
are you doing this? The king is just moments away from formally abdicating the
throne to me and then we can both have what we want.”

“Siron . . .” Kasile said cautiously, “What's he talking
about?”

“Nothing, Your Highness,” the younger Esrah noble said. “He
speaks nonsense.”

“Ohh, I see . . .” Selen said, “You told her the plan was
all
my
idea, didn't you?” The smile became a smirk. “You see, Princess,
this violent overthrow was my contingency. My plan A revolved entirely on my
dear son.”

Siron turned to Kasile and met the tip of her sword. Her
eyes burned with such betrayal that he spoke to her feet instead. “Your Highness,
you must believe me, I never wanted it to come this far. I—”

“—wanted to get in your pants,” Selen said. “That is the
phrase young people use, is it not?”

Dengel! Aren't you going to do something!?

Not yet. I want to see how this works out
.

 Selen held up one finger. “Plan A: create circumstances in
which Kasile would renew her love for my son so I could wield the scepter of
the shadow king. I thought a classic rescue scenario would do. Of course, in
order for a princess to be rescued, she must first be kidnapped, and that is
why I hired those rogues at the Joust. My
honorable
son had no
objections at the time.”

“You said no one would get hurt! You said the rogues
wouldn't cause any trouble!”

“There was no loss of life,” his father replied lofty. “No
one would have seen them if it hadn't been for this mercenary. I still don't
understand how he found her. Dark Fogs are supposed to be impossible to
navigate. Now where was I? Oh yes, the biggest hurdle was luring your highness
out of the royal box. A pearl is more tempting when it is not within its shell.”

Kasile paled and blushed at the same time.

 “Yes, you remember, don't you? I bet you can even recall
the poetic nonsense. It had to be over the top so you would be too busy
blushing to consider the unlikelihood that a note from mercenary Culmus could
reach you in the royal box. I timed it exactly after Culmus's round to further
the illusion. You really did look stunning in that dress, Princess. It's
especially eye-catching in a field of black.”

Every muscle in Kasile's body shook with rage.

 Selen held up a second finger. “Phase two; the sewer
hideout. I must thank the Darwoss for the use of their lair. Not only was it
the perfect hiding place, but they were the perfect scapegoats. The public
eagerly believed they had something to do with your kidnapping. They really
should work on their public image. Now, my son, tell the princess what you were
really
doing in the sewer.”

Siron held his father's gaze. “I was building an alibi, Your
Highness. I trained in the lower levels of the sewer for a month in advance so
no one would think it strange when I found you.”

“He would have too if I had known the true strength of the
rogues. Some of my very best men infiltrated the leader's gang to ensure he
would not betray me and that was the last I heard from them. Instead of my son
emerging as the hero, he was captured and the mercenaries got the credit.”

He held up a third finger. “However, as I am a brilliant
noble lord, my second plan was already in motion. It was a costly endeavor.” He
listed off the expenses as if they were a grocery list.

“Flipping the Common Council and the Noble Council
and
the
War Council through friendship, charisma, money and disappearances,  hiring
thugs-I must thank you for sparing me the expense of paying them-bribing
soldiers, paying the ambassador to memorize a script. I even went to the
trouble of paying him through a third party to avoid suspicion. A friend of his
owns an antique shop and I 'bought' a stock of muskets. The two Ceihans would
divide the money amongst themselves and I would donate the antiques to Esrah's
public schools. A replica of the low-tech weapons Ceihans have to put up with
is more instructive than a textbook, don't you agree?”

Dengel nodded.

“You made it so much easier, Princess, I truly couldn't have
done it without you.” He bowed in thanks. “You place such high expectations of
yourself that I was positive you would learn Magic Sight if I hinted that the
king might be controlled by a rune. Most of all, your paranoia was invaluable.
It was easy to demonize the Ceihan ambassador in your eyes and make you believe
he
was your royal trial.” He laughed evilly. “And all this time it was
me.”