Chasing Bloodlines (Book 4) (9 page)

He bowed lavishly. “Your Magnificence, I am Mage Aelony, and this pleasure is mine alone. I would kiss thine hand, but ye would find mine cold, and I daren’t have our first meeting be so alarming.”

Robyn smiled generously and extended her hand anyway. Aelony looked pleasantly surprised and carefully took it up to kiss. “Ye do me great honor, Your Magnificence.”

“Thank you, Mage Aelony.”

“Forgive me, Robyn, but I must return with him.” Gabriel said.

“As I must return to our discussion,” Robyn said with a nod. She kissed his cheek with a whisper that made him smile, and Gabriel pulled Mikelle through the hinge.

“I am ashamed it has taken me so long to find this,” Aelony said as he drifted to Gabriel’s desk. “I thought I knew the sections better, but time has taxed my memory. I believe this is the ward ye were looking for.”

Gabriel picked up the slender folio and flipped open its pages, reading quickly. “This is precisely what I needed. As thanks I have decided to only ward the gates themselves, not the air between them, so you can still slip in and out when the doors are opened.”

Aelony smiled gratefully. “T’is gracious of ye.”

“Did you find what you were looking for in the books I provided?”

Aelony shook his head. “Not yet, but still I read on. Head Mage, fair Mikelle, good day,” he bowed before slipping away in a shift.

Gabriel turned to the hinge and worked the pattern out line by line. “This is complex. There are quite a few layers to it,” he murmured as Mikelle went back to her cooling chocolate.

He fueled it, and a moment later he whispered, “Perfect,” and zipped away to the front gates to repeat the pattern. He returned minutes later with a smile. “The castle is protected.”

“Ryker won’t attack with specters again. He knows you can control them.”

“He would have found a way, or attack when I was absent. Speaking of which, fetch the Council will you?”

“For a meeting?”

“No, just in the anteroom.”

She obliged, finishing her chocolate and making her way into the hall.
‘There HAS to be an easier way to summon everyone without personally hunting them down.’
She quickly rapped on the doors and sent everyone to the anteroom. Gabriel had already brought his parents through the hinge and shifted to Cinibar for Queen Challis.

“The gate is secure from specters,” Gabriel announced to the sighs of relief from his Council. Mikelle marveled to see that even with them all standing, Gabriel seemed the tallest though he matched Dagan inch for inch. There was something about him that made him appear grand and imposing.

“That being complete, it is now time for me to go across the mountains to Tintagaelsing. I need a team of Mages to accompany me. I would like Lael, Cordis, Galloway, Markus and Mikelle.” They all nodded their consent. “Very well, pack for cold weather. We leave two hours after sunrise tomorrow.”

Chapter 9

Gabriel woke and pushed the nightmarish vestige from his memory. They came less frequently now, and there were some days he did not think of the Castrofax at all, but the memories remained. Robyn had listened with blessed patience as he recalled details of the torturous month in Nolen’s hands, but he was winding towards the end of his story, leaving out the most painful of memories for days when he had more courage.

Gabriel bathed and dressed, shaving his face with a Spirit pattern. He pulled the water from his hair that Robyn had trimmed back to its usual length brushing his coat collar. He chose a coat stitched with copper-embroidered feathers down the sleeves and across the chest to make a statement. No books detailed how Tintagaelsing’s politics worked, but the coat would make a declaration of wealth and prestige.

He selected trousers trimmed in copper thread and knee-high boots that buckled up the sides. No matter how much he ate or did not eat, it seemed his trousers were getting tighter. He suspected Mikelle had something to do with it. She met him in his study later with breakfast. She wore a dark green dress with split skirts, trimmed in white fur and silver buttons.

As they ate, he explained all he knew about Tintagaelsing, which was very little. He shifted there once to make sure the kingdom still stood, but other than viewing the grand city, he did not stay.

He finished his necessary morning duties, blessedly few due to the slow trade and travel. They met Lael in the anteroom stuffing books into his saddlebags, wearing a beautiful red-and-yellow coat bearing a starburst pattern from the shoulder across the chest. Lael threw on his Mage cloak and shouldered the bags to follow Gabriel into the courtyard.

The servants affixed the saddlebags as Gabriel greeted Markus and Cordis. Cordis was exuberant as ever around Markus who seemed to not only understand him, but also encouraged his outgoing behavior. Galloway and Mikelle joined not long after.

“My main directive in Tintagaelsing is to find stronger Mages,” Gabriel addressed them. “I would like to enlist their help and bring them here for a time, if we can persuade them. Especially Spirit Mages.”

“Why do you need stronger Mages?” Cordis asked. “You’re doing a fine job.”

Gabriel glanced at Mikelle who shook her head. “I’m going to need Spirit Mages who can repair the damage I will take in the final battle with Ryker,” he replied and extended an arm for them to grab. “Touch your steeds or you will lose them.”

He seized Void and set the shift, taking them over the mountains away from the safety of Castle Jaden. They dipped and soared throughout the mountains until they came to flatlands, and Gabriel cut the pattern. He looked west to see the city not far away, and they mounted up to get a better look.

Tintagaelsing was a towering city built on a hill with the white palace in the center. It was massive, possibly larger than Anatoly City, with tall buildings and a large wall that rimmed the entire structure. Tall statues set on columns poked out of the white buildings while many checkered flags flew from the tops of structures denoting things Gabriel could not fathom.

They passed farms and unplowed land, though the air was not nearly as cold as Jaden. No snow lingered in the shadows, and the sky did not threaten to spill. Gabriel found himself throwing his cloak over his shoulders to take in the calm breeze. The few people they passed on the road were fair haired and pale skinned, and they paid them all startled gazes.

“There is not a single brunet here,” Markus finally said and looked back at Gabriel. “They must think you are
rather
strange.”

“So do we all,” Cordis sighed.

Gabriel ignored his father and pulled to the front of the party. Powerful gates loomed before them studded with soldiers in dark gray-and-cream uniforms of thinner material than Gabriel’s wool and cotton. The soldiers did not stop them, but they received more than one strange look from the fair-headed Gaelsins.

They rode through the gates and gazed up at the soaring city full of tall white buildings. It was impossible to ignore the slums in the front. Dirty barefoot children cut around the horses as they splashed through mud while adults shouted to be careful.

“They speak our tongue,” Lael whispered. “Though that accent is very strange.”

The road wound uphill straight to the palace, passing shops, homes, a theater, a racetrack, and many hop houses. They drew silence as they rode past sellers and strollers. Gabriel was used to being stared at, but never to this degree. The higher they went, the nicer and larger the houses grew until they became mansions and small palaces.

The palace gates finally loomed before them, massive things made of twisted black metal. Several soldiers lowered a short halberd with a long blade atop it as they approached, and Gabriel reigned in. “We are here to see your ruling dignitary.”

A soldier looked back and forth between them for a while. “T’at would be t’ King Rayner. And who might you be?”

“I am Head Mage Gabriel of Jaden.”

The man smirked a little. “Be on your way, now.”

Gabriel frowned a touch. “Your King will want to see me.”

“Yes, yes, I t’ink not. Excellent costume and horseflesh,
Mage
, but t’ King will not see you.”

Gabriel dismounted and the guards lowered their weapons. “I think you better explain,” he said as he towered over the soldier. “I’m sure I don’t look like I’m from here.”

“If you want to see t’ Mages, go back to t’ gates. T’ King does not associate wit’ Mages unless he needs somet’in’ built or washed or moved.”

“Very well,” Gabriel straightened. “We can do this without his consent.” He mounted back up on his white steed.

“Get along now!” the soldier called with a laugh.

The Council looked to him with more than one worried glance, concerned he may retaliate. Gabriel certainly considered, but he eventually muttered, “It’s not worth it,”

They returned the way they came with more than one question on their minds. All the while they searched for anyone wielding Elements. Gabriel finally reigned in at a shop and asked the lady where he would find Mages.

“By t’ front gates, your lordship.”

“I did not see any.”

“You must have. In t’ slums.”

“The…the
slums
?” he gasped.

“Of course, my lord.”

He turned back on the road with a tight sensation in his gut.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Lael whispered and Gabriel nodded.

They moved cautiously now, not certain what the implications of being a Mage were, and went back to the gates.

The slums were little more than structures thrown together. Amongst shacks no taller than three stories, the streets were haphazardly paved with cobblestones and mud puddles in the gaps. While people in the city were garbed in long coats and cloaks, people here wore simple mantles or short threadbare coats. As Gabriel drew closer to the pale-haired people, he saw collars poking out from their blouses, all in Elemental colors with numbers written on them.

“Can I be helpin’ you, your lordship?” a man asked as they passed a small shop selling soup.

“Do you have a man in charge here?” Gabriel said from atop his horse.

“No, your lordship.”

“No leader of the Mages?”

The man looked around and shrugged. “We t’ink of Shaun as a leader.”

“Where will I find him?”

“Just round t’ corner in Brigit’s Bakery.”

Gabriel urged Smoke on as his Council sat without words, looking from one despondent face to the next.

The bakery was in a structure three levels high, and smoke piped from the chimney in the center. The air smelled of yeast and toast. Gabriel dismounted and motioned for Lael to do the same, stepping around a deep puddle.

He pushed his way in through the door that needed a few more nails and let the aroma of baked bread wash over him. The room was small but clean, with a few chairs, tiny tables in the front corners, and a slender counter between them before a deep oven.

An older woman walked out from a side door. “How can I be…” she stopped suddenly and looked them up and down with a frightened look. “Oh, please m’lords, don’t take her. She’s all I have left.”

Gabriel put both hands up. “We are here to take no one.”

“Why are you here?” she asked quietly.

“For bread, of course,” Lael said and gestured to a rack of rolls against the far wall.

“Good woman, why do you fear us?” Gabriel asked. He had made sure not to move for fear he may drive her away. Even his arms remained up.

She bound up her apron that had more than one burn spot. “I t’ought you might be here for me daughter.”

“Why?”

She seemed to realize Gabriel was truly confused and looked him up and down, alighting on his black hair. “You don’t sound from here, m’lord.”

“I am not.”

She stepped closer. “Sometimes palace guards take t’ young ones, t’ strong ones, and we don’t see t’em again. Would—would you like a sweet?” she looked to Lael.

Lael rummaged in a coat pocket. “I do not have your coinage, but I do have….”

“Oh, no charge for lords.”

“We are not lords,” Lael corrected.

“Why no charge?” Gabriel asked instead.

“King’s rules.”

Gabriel held a hand out to her, palm out. “We are Mages,” he stated and snapped a flame between two fingers, drew a ball of water, a circle of light, and twisted a vine between the others.

The woman gaped for a moment and stuttered, “You can’t do t’at in here unless you have permits.”

He let the Elements slip away. “King’s orders?” she nodded. She had a red ribbon around her throat with bold black letters embroidered in it. “When did this happen?”

She wrung her apron again. “Some say after t’ Mage Wars, some say long before t’at.”

Lael set a nougat of silver on the counter and pointed to a braided loaf. “I will take that one.”

“Oh, I cannot take t’at, m’lord,” she lifted the loaf.

“I insist. Where I come from, Mages are respected. I have more silver at home.”

‘Nicely done,’
Gabriel thought as she handed the loaf over and stealthy pocketed the silver.

They heard the sounds of someone descending steps behind her, and a man stepped in the doorway. He was slender and lanky, almost as tall as Lael, wearing a white blouse and gray trousers that hung off his frame. He was striking, with pale blond hair draped around his face, fair skin, and a beautifully balanced face. What stood out were his eyes. Gabriel had to double-check to see if the man was in Void, for his eyes were white with just a faint gray outline of the cornea.

A gray pattern rotated around him as he stepped in, brushing against everything in the room though kicking up no wind. He folded his arms as he leaned against the doorframe, turning his face to the newcomers.

“Are t’ese people bot’erin’ you, Brigit?” he asked.

“No, no my dear,” she replied and patted his arm. He stared at them without truly looking. As the moments passed, Gabriel was convinced the man was blind.

“I am Head Mage Gabriel of a kingdom over the Gray Mountains, and I came here looking for the leader of your Mages.”

The man lifted a pale brow skeptically. “We don’t have a leader.”

“A Mage I spoke with earlier said I would find a Mage Shaun here.”

The blond man smirked. “I’m not t’eir leader in t’ kind of sorts you mean.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“I don’t know you, mate. Get your bread and be on your way.” He turned to leave.

“I’m the leader of free Mages,” Gabriel cut in. “I’m guessing you’ve never had a lavish life. You would with me.”

Shaun stopped. “You must be a Jaden Mage.”

“You know of Jaden?”

“Oh, aye, we all know t’ stories of t’ Mage Wars started by Jaden Mages, forcing us into t’is life, t’ough I t’ought you were all killed off long ago.”

“No, we flourish. I came here looking for strong Mages, especially in Spirit. What is your highest Class?”

Shaun barked a laugh. “None of us have ever been Classed. The King forbade it half an Age ago.”

“Can you guess?”

Shaun put his hand out and snapped three fingers over his thumb. Suddenly a loud blast emanated from his palm, sending shockwaves through the little room and making several rolls fall from their racks. “Oh, aye, mate.”

“That is a pop-pattern,” Lael said in an excited tone. “Only Class Sixes and up can handle it.”

Shaun turned to leave again when the front door opened, and Mikelle stepped in with a concerned expression. “Are you playing nice?” Shaun stopped when his air pattern brushed her.

“What’s a few patterns among friends?” Gabriel replied.

“A seat for t’ lady?” Shaun asked and gestured to a bench.

“How decent of you,” she smiled and crossed Gabriel to take it.

Shaun folded his arms. “You were saying, Head Mage of Jaden?”

“Why do your people live in squalor like this?” Gabriel asked instead.