Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) (3 page)

According to legend the land of the Empire had risen from the bowels of the very earth, forming a defensible line against any future advance by the Elfking turned Lord of Demon’s forces. In point of fact, the vast empire rested on a plateau that spanned leagues and leagues all the way to the western sea. Also, without regard to legend, the keep of Niota resided above an enchanted warding node – a point of magery which provided purpose and stability to the fastness.

 
The keep had been built by magery undreamed of in the current age by the elves who had dedicated their lives to the Guardian of the Gate’s cause of uniting elfdom and humanity after the terrible war that had nearly eradicated both races.

  That
enchanted ward had a name. 

  “Ni – O – Ta!” chanted the ogre and boy in unison as the ogre gave voice to words in a language of magery that no one else around them could hear or recognize. The words were ancient. The ward named NIOTA awoke from the long dream. It felt only one dedicated one, felt his pain, knew his new friend; understood what was being asked.

  NIOTA must be what its purpose had long ago demanded. The Empire was threatened.  NIOTA sought its mate, reached toward the only elvin presence it could find.

Balfour’s eyes widened as the presence manifested all around him as the keep shook. “Uh,” he groaned as his knees buckled. Me’oh hurriedly

moved to steady him, struggling to keep her footing
.

  T
he walls seemed to be wavering, as if they were standing amid an illusion. Balfour, eyes wide, shouted something in Elvish.

  In response,
Me’oh had the uncanny impression that the walls were now closing about them like a fist. Balfour shouted out in more words she understood not at all. 

“Ni – O – Ta!” the ogre shouted as he sensed the keep reach out to one he had not intended. Thomi pounded his already bleeding hands even harder upon the ground.

  The presence paused as Balfour
du Winome told it he would not

serve Niota’s need. He was a healer and such was not his purpose.
It paused, considering, turning reluctantly away, and focused on the Dedicated One’s choice. It tasted its scent; human, not of its kin or of elvin blood. Pure of heart and spirit, though, and willing to take on Niota’s terrible price.

  NEVER TO LEAVE THESE LANDS? WILLING TO BE BOUND FOREVER, NOT JUST HIM, BUT HIS DESCENDANTS?

  Thomi’s eyes widened as the ground under his scraped palms became pliant like soft, moist clay. “Forever?” he muttered as Walsh continued to chant and pound his hands upon the earth, the sound reverberating far down into the earth below.

  HUMAN YOU ARE. YOU WOULD HAVE TO BE DEDICATED BEYOND THE MEASURE OF THE CURSED ONES WHO UNDERSTAND DUTY AS OTHERS BREATHE AIR. TO BE BOUND TO NIOTA
, TO BECOME ONE OF THE KIN IN THEIR STEAD, FOREVER IS THE PRICE.

  Thomi lowered his head, “If that is the price, so be it.”

  HUMAN! LIARS ALL! YOU WILL BETRAY US ALL!

Raven growled, bounding around the stone, which felt hot with magery, as George stared in astonishment, his staff flaring.

:Instability increasing. Detecting a marked increase in ambient heat. Unable to accurately scan source,:
warned the computer staff.
:Increasing shield strength.:

  The walls of the buildings were beginning to glow. George gazed back at the rhythmically chanting ogre, then gaped in sudden horror as the ground beneath Thomi began to flow forming an open hand
of stone with the boy in its palm.

The Summoning observed and the spirit of Highmage Alrex stirred. The fact that Niota was awakening was incredible. 

  That the boy had inadvertently raised the enchantment’s ire was beyond the Summoning’s ken. It reached out desperately to its creator
. Alrex’s body trembled in agony and suddenly the Highmage understood the lad’s plight and so much more. 

George groaned as the Summoning twisted and writhed within him as never before.  Desperate, he focused all his energy. His staff blazed with light as he saw the huge stone fingers begin to close around the boy. He heard Thomi’s mother scream of horror and Raven’s growling challenge, change to a bird’s cry as she shimmered and launched herself into the air and flew toward the boy even as

energy blasted from the tip of the computer staff.

Thomi stared as the fingers of the giant hand closed upon him, then abruptly found himself jerked into the air with wings beating heavily behind him. He was thrown clear by Raven as Niota’s elemental grip closed in frustration. Niota’s anger rose as the arrogant human that thought itself fit to serve as his
one of its kin escaped its wrath.

  The
blast of energy struck and Niota cringed in surprise as stone was blasted to dust. Walsh cried out in fear, afraid he had erred terribly. The ethereal hand quickly rose, reforming into a retaliatory fist, turning toward where Thomi struggled to rise.

The great falc shimmered and landed in beast form before the boy. Raven growled, daring the stone to attack.

  The ogre gaped as a second blast of energy struck the fist, rocking it backward
as half its fingers were pulverized. Walsh stared at the human mage, his eyes glowing bright with an unearthly fire as he raised his blazing staff yet again. The refugee inhabitants of the keep fled screaming from the conflagration.

  “NIOTA! HEAR ME!” George heard himself shout
in Elvish, a language he had no before spoken.

  Niota’s
half shattered fist halted. Walsh unable to stop his chanting felt

the enchantment’s astonishment. It felt great magery. Sensed its origin as the man st
anding with the blazing staff and it sensed another form standing there as well. One it recognized.

  The Highmage glared at him from George’s eyes. “THAT PRICE YOU WILL NOT DEMAND!”

  THE HUMAN DARED OFFER HIMSELF, GUARDIAN!

  “HARM NOT THE YOUNG LORD!”

  Niota demanded, YOUNG LORD? HUMAN HE IS AND THEREFORE COMPLETELY UNSUITABLE TO MY NEEDS!

  “E
LVIN LORDS HAVE FAILED YOU IN THE PAST... THE

HUMAN HAS MORE STRENGTH OF SPIRIT THAN ANY OF THEM!”

  IMPOSSIBLE!

  “LEARN, ANCIENT ONE! A HUMAN STANDS BEFORE YOU. HE IS A HUMAN MAGE! HAS T
HERE EVER BEEN HIS LIKE?”

  F
ist fingers grew as stone rose to reshape them. The hand clenched and shuddered across the rocky ground right toward a very wide––eyed…

Balfour came running out of the main building, Me’oh at his side, shouting, “Je’orj!  Look out!”

  “Staff!” Geoge
cried as he dove aside.

  Swords struck the stone hand as Cle’or, Se’and, then Fri’il, assaulted the force that dared to attack him. Se’and was slapped aside, then Fri’il and Cle’or hurriedly backed toward Je’orj, who yelled for them to step aside. The staff in his hands flared as the fist struck.

  Energy flared all along the mental shield Je’orj had hastily raised. Stung, the hand withdrew, then slapped at the offending ward with magery of its own. The shield flared, yet again remained unbroken.

  It sought the nature of the ward. It found energy, but no enchantment. The hand sank back into the earth. A column of light rose
in its stead. THERE IS NO WARD?

  “No,” George replied, sweat dripping down his face. “I’ve established a shield. This is not magic. I’m merely human
, after all.”

  “AND EQUAL TO MAGERIES CHALLENGE,” George heard himself add.

  Niota paused and considered the Guardian’s lesson, then turned to the

boy. Thomi looked at the column of light, knew its name as well as he knew every building and crevice to hide in throughout the keep. GUARDIAN, WHAT PROMISE DO YOU OFFER ME THEN? I WILL NOT EVER GO TO SLEEP ONLY TO FIND MYSELF THUS AGAIN!

 
‘HEAR THEN THE PROPHECY SPOKEN THE DAY OF YOUR MAKING... THEIR SHALL ARISE A LORD HERE GREATER THAN EVER IN PAST GLORY. HE AND HIS LINE WILL FULFILL THY PURPOSE!  NIOTA SHALL STAND FOREVER AGAINST THE ENEMIES OF LIGHT!’

  The column slipped back into the ground, then abruptly surrounded Thomi with a crack of thunder. His clothes smoldered beneath Niota’s glowing touch as Walsh gasped and ceased his chant, his arms aching from the strain. That was when the light instantly faded and Thomi collapsed, wearing clothing now marked with Niota’s ancient symbol.

Walsh had rushed to Thomi’s side. Only when assured by Thomi’s mother and Balfour both that the boy had come to no harm w
ould he allow Balfour to heal his hands. The refugee in habitants came out of hiding and were looking about them in awe at the keep. The walls were shiny and new. Where fallen buildings had been, now stood ones whole and hale.

 
Se’and remembered the enchanted image of this place that Raslinn had conjured before them. Niota was more beautiful than that fancy.

  George
looked about him as the ogre rose, looking at his healed hands. He came before George and muttered, “Niota – fine – now... Walls – strong... We – can – beat – them – now.”

  “Who?”

  Walsh frowned and shook his head, then tapped his head, “Raslinn – boasted... They – come – to – in – invade, yes – that – the – word...  Invade – not!”

  Se’and met his gaze and mutter
ed, “Fenn du Blain.”

  Balfour shook his head, wondering if this place could really hold against the army that that madman had
raised. An army that they had thought was aimed at bringing the city–states in the Crescent Lands under his tyrannical rule. 

  Se’and took George
’s arm as he grimaced in a well-recognized agony. The

Summoning drew him now.
It was time to leave this place. Niota would have to see to its own defense in the unlikely hands of a boy lord and a kindly grinning ogre, who doted on Thomi

as he struggled to sit up.

 
Come
, the fading presence behind the Summoning demanded. 
Hasten to me! 

Elemental

C
hapter 2

S
e’and had been angry; although, she knew she had no right to be.  She tried not to take it out on her horse. The poor thing had been through far too much of late. They had fled the Crescent Lands before the advancing marauding soldiers of the Fenn du Blain’s Trelorian Regulars.

 
They had taken the old mountain road up the cliff face of the escarpment, which served as the northeastern border of the Empire, up to the ancient fastness of Niota… and which was another deadly trap.

 
She unconsciously grimaced. They’d survived the trap of Niota and… well… she’d received what she and every Cathartan woman like her sought most. Her family was now not just one in name only, her lord was finally acting like one – and she was jealous.

 
Hers were a Cursed of people, a nation of tens of thousands of women, but less than thirty men. With every passing generation there were fewer Households. Once there had been hundreds, but no longer.

 
In gratitude for saving her brother’s life, her father rewarded Je’orj and his elfblooded companion, Balfour, by making them Cathartan Lords by Bond… something only done in legend.

 
Je’orj had been particularly difficult about accepting the reality of the Bond, constantly reminding her that the rest of the world wasn’t suffering from the Curse, and sons were not a rarity. He also infuriated her by stating that being given bodyguard wives didn’t mean he or Balfour were married.

 
Whether he recognized it or not, they were Bound.

I’m such an idiot,
she thought.
I’d pushed the young and attractive Fri’il at Je’orj every chance I had, figuring Je’orj would begin to accept their reality – not just count on the Cathartans to defend him.
The problem was Fri’il had become even more frustrated with his lack of attention than she had, and the goblin mage ensconced at Niota had used that against them. That had nearly seen the young woman killed and Je’orj, well… Je’orj had more than comforted the young woman.

 
That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?
But it felt like a dagger through her heart.
When did I fall in love with Je’orj? He said he was “merely an archea––ologist” – apparently a fancy name for the human mages from his world.

“I know that look,” Me’oh said, urging her mount closer to Se’and’s. She was the oldest member of the Cathartan escort. She understood Se’and best. Having been Bonded to Balfour du Winome, who shared her love of healing, Me’oh found herself falling in love with the elfblood as she had not since…

 
Life had always held its surprises for Me’oh. She had married Se’and’s father, Sire Ryff, who had turned to her for her medicinal healing skills several years before, seeking to provide his son relief from the Curse’s agony. She’d lived Houseless for long enough in Catha. The marriage assured her young daughters security and a future.

 
Se’and glanced back at the blonde-haired black liveried Fri’il riding several lengths behind, close to Lord Je’orj. She half-whispered to herself, “By the Lords, does she have to be so young and beautiful?”

 
“Hide your feelings deep,” Me’oh warned. “They do you no credit, Se’and. Establishing a House is no easy thing.”

 
“Me’oh, how did you survive being Houseless for so long?”

 
“Long? My Sire gave me to that bastard who raped me when I was only fourteen. I made my choice. I walked out and chose to live free. That I made a life and had my daughter, Mahr, was not easy. But, Se’and, you don’t need a man to be fulfilled. Every woman in

Cathart knows that.”

  “But, you did so much more – and you’ve raised not one, but two daughters.”

 
Me’oh shook her head, “And what did I go and do, but accept your father’s invitation to join his Household the first chance I got.”

 
“And father just gave you up. How… how can you forgive him that?”

 
She chuckled, “Se’and, there’s nothing to forgive. Being Bonded to Balfour is a reward. My knowledge of herbal healing with Balfour’s healing gifts make quite a combination… And he’s good in bed.”

 
Se’and frowned.

 
Me’oh nodded, “Which is your problem, isn’t it? Lord Je’orj has kept himself rather chaste until matters tipped in Fri’il’s favor.”

 
“I know I shouldn’t feel this way… He just makes me so damned mad sometimes.”

 
“Se’and,” Me’oh whispered, “have you really looked at him back there?”

 
“What are you talking about?”

 
“Se’and, Lord Je’orj is miserable.”

 
“What?”

 
“Yes, he slept with her, but it’s tearing him up inside…”

 
Se’and glanced back.

:George, would you like me to replay that conversation?:

 
“Shut up,” he muttered seemingly to himself.

 
Fri’il looked over at George, confused. “Milord?”

 
“Uh, just arguing with Staff…”

 
:An argument you’re losing,:
it replied.

Me’oh looked at her long and hard, “Perhaps, Se’and, you would rather talk to Cle’or about this? At least she’s your half-sister.”

 
“Oh, no,” she replied, shaking her head. Cle’or was trained as a   weapons master. Her battle–scarred sister would offer rather unsympathetic advice. She smiled at the older woman, “I would rather sheath my dagger in my own ribs, thank you.”

 
Grinning, Me’oh remarked, “Now that would really be leadership by example.”

The pale falc with a black crest soared above the small group as they rode northeast through the Imperial Province of Lyai.

 
Balfour knew the geography from the maps he had been taught over the years as a student at the Healer’s Hall in the Imperial Capital.  In his time there, during his struggles to master the healing spells, Balfour had spent a great deal of time in the Hall’s library, which had extensive maps of the Empire and neighboring regions. 

 
“Je’orj,” Balfour said. “Raven seems unconcerned.”

 
The staff in his hands abruptly glowed as he closed his eyes and mentally reached out. George touched the falc’s thoughts and murmured, “Any sign of pursuit?”

 
The falc squawked and sent in reply,
‘Clear all directions, foster–father.’

 
He held out his staff, offering her a perch. She dove, then as she neared back–winged. She briefly alighted on the perch before shimmering and hopping over to his saddle. Completing her shape change, the small, petite girl settled into the saddle before him.

He reached back into his saddlebags and retrieved her livery and draped her into it.
 She sighed and rasped, “No like wear.”

 
“And you have such a pleasant voice, child,” he replied. “You should consider using it more often – like clothes, it grows more comfortable with use.”

 
Raven glanced at the chuckling Balfour and shook her head. Se’and had adopted Raven in Edous, one of the city states in the Crescent Lands to the east of the Empire, after they had broken the enchantment that had bound her. That they had accomplished it at all without wielding spells still astonished Balfour, who now served as the foreigner’s apprentice, learning the ways of long forgotten human lore.

 
Balfour had left his studies in the Capital in disgrace; unable to effect the healing mageries necessary to save lives. He had gone home to the distant Barrier Mountains, hoping to forget that pain – until he had met Je’orj, a man who claimed to be from another world and bore a staff of power like no other. In many ways, the computer staff was more his teacher than Je’orj, teaching him to truly use his human–born gifts to heal.

 
However, there was one area of knowledge he had excelled at during his studies in the Empire; he knew the Healer Hall’s texts better than anyone. He knew the theories about the reasons for illness and everything about the areas they most commonly occurred around the Empire and the neighboring lands. Thus, he knew much about the Empire and the province ahead of them.

 
The ancient barrows were an unlikely place for the Demonlord’s followers in the Empire to track them. One thing they desperately needed was a respite from their continuous mad flight.

 
Fri’il urged her mount beside Je’orj on the opposite side, then leaned over and half whispered that she would happily change places with girl. Raven smiled and instantly moved from mount to mount.

George almost choked in surprise as Fri’il laughed heartily.
 “Why, thank you, Raven!”

 
Balfour shook his head, wishing that his sensitive elvin hearing had not

been privy to the exact inflection of her offer.
 Je’orj hastily rode forward as

Fri’il and Raven laughed.

  One thing that seemed odd to the elfblooded healer was that Staff, whom only he, Raven, and Je’orj were able to hear, didn’t take the opportunity to needle Je’orj as usual.