Merchants and Mages (Highmage's Plight Book 2) Read online

  Merchants and Mages

  D.H. Aire

  Sequel to Highmage’s Plight

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Your non-refundable purchase allows you to one legal copy of this work for your own personal use. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload, or for a fee.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

  Copyright © 2014 D.H. Aire

  Cover Copyright © by Christina Yoder

  Edited by Karen MacLeod

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN - 10: 1500171549

  ISBN-13: 978-1500171544

  FIRST EDITION

  Highmage’s Plight Series

  by D.H. Aire

  Highmage’s Plight (published by Malachite Quills)

  Merchant and Mages

  Human Mage (published by Spectacular Publishing)

  Highmage

  Well Armed Brides* (forthcoming)

  Highmage’s Plight, Human Mage, and parts of Highmage appeared in

  serialized form in Separate Worlds (published by Spectacular Publishing)

  from 2010 through 2014.

  An excerpted story from Merchants and Mage (Elemental) appeared in Separate Worlds in 2012.

  Also by D.H. Aire

  Flights of Fantasy, Volume 1 (published by Spectacular Publishing), also featuring

  short stories by Barry Nove.

  This novel and the series

  is dedicated to Sarah.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would also like to thank my copyeditor, Karen MacLeod, for all her help with this volume. Any errors are my fault for disagreeing with her, a very rare occurrence.

  I must also thank Christina Yoder, who did a magnificent job on the cover art for this book. She’s a real find and has been a joy to work with. She’s brought my characters to life and hopefully enticed you to buy this novel and enter the world of the Plight.

  Finally to you, my friends and readers, who have purchased this book. This story was originally written over fifteen years ago. Thank you for buying this book and letting my characters into your lives. They have been members of my family for a very long time.

  Dare to believe.

  D.H. Aire

  www.dhr2believe.net

  August 2014

  Interlude

  Trelor, Crescent Lands

  The sickly green flame flared higher as his victims’ screams stilled, yet echoed throughout the otherwise nearly lightless cellar, which had served previous tenants in far more benign ways.

  A face formed over the pit’s pyre as he knelt, bowing to the floor. “Master.”

  What news have you for me?

  Fenn du Blain, Lord of Northern Crescent Lands, the now united kingdoms of his native Gwed with their suborned neighbor, Trelor, reported, “I have marched my armies south as you commanded and sent my emissaries as agreed. They have just returned from Edous and have been… rebuffed by their Council.”

  The witch will writhe in torment for eternity for her failure!

  “Master,” he said to the Demonlord, “she and the Dark Temple she raised are no more.”

  This is his doing!

  “I thought the… Highmage near death.”

  Alrex is… but the one he summoned through the Gate… he is his pawn and now being dealt with at Niota, where he will be of no further concern… How fares the rest of my plan?

  Fenn du Blain swallowed. “Master, this one he summoned. You did not warn me that he was human.”

  What matter? As a human he has no magecraft. Alrex is a fool to count on him as his champion, but so much the better.

  “He has a talisman of great power, a staff.”

  The face smiled, the sight made Fenn cringed, It will be mine soon, another tool to bring down my enemies… Are your fool human minions ready?

  “I was not counting on fighting without the city-state’s troops under my banner as well.”

  You have enough men under your banner for the tasks at hand. Edows cannot stand against even a third of your forces alone… and the other city-states will not rally to their call. I have sewn distrust and enmity too long for that. Edous will fall and after them you will take the southern human cities. The witch is not my only adherent in those cities... and Niota is open to us. The Imperials will not realize they have been invaded by your Trelorian toadies until it is far too late.

  Fenn nodded, careful to keep his bloody hands cupped beneath his neck over his newly stained jerkin.

  With the talisman you wear, stolen from Gwed’s true heir years ago, you have magery enough and the prophecy on your side. After all, the fool humans know that he who wears the jewel shall unite all these lands one day… and now that fated person you, my friend.

  Afraid to admit the truth, Fenn said not a word. He dared not share that Gwilliam, the banished Prince of Gwed, and the human mage had stolen the jewel from him in this very city and fled with thousands of its citizens, and Truthsayer no less. Fenn feared the talisman hanging from Gwilliam’s neck explained even more why Edous Council’s did not greet him as a hero with a parade.

  After all, Fenn, and you know what I shall do to you if you fail.

  “Master, I will not fail,” he vowed, knowing the price the demon possessed creature scrying him through the fire would inflict he even suspect otherwise. “The Trelorians fear me and now worship you as all the humans shall.”

  The Empire shall fall and humanity with them… then I shall be free to do as I will.

  “The Imperials cannot scry my armies?”

  No. The Lord of Demons laughed. I have seen to that and so much else. Their wards may block my sight, but I do not need to see… all is arranged. Plans within plans coming to fulfillment at long last. Niota shall become our fortress, then the Provinces will fall one by one. Now go play with your food to energize your precious wards.

  The green flames sucked downward, leaving the burning bodies ash.

  Rising, he lowered his hands, his trembling hands, to his sides. The wards reacted, relighting the torches, which flared in natural yellow flame. He went to the wash basin and cleaned his hands and with a relieved sigh went to the thick stout door, which helped muffle the cries he so relished.

  A wrist bound and gagged child, eyes wide with fear, was shoved toward him.

  He smiled and asked the guards, “Boy or girl?”

  “Boy. Untouched as you commanded.”

  In a whisper, he said, “Bring me a girl, preferably his age, related to this one if possible or some he’s known to be sweet on.”

  He shut the door as boy’s legs buckled.
r />   Fenn caught up the rope binding his hands and eased him back to his feet. “Do not fear, lad.” He removed the gag and tilted up the boy’s face with his right hand and drew his jeweled dagger with the other.

  “Milord, I—I am loyal! I will do anything you ask!”

  “That you will have to prove to me, lad.” Fenn cut the bindings then as the boy rubbed his wrists, offered him the blade. “This is a present for you. Here. Take it.”

  Hesitant, the boy did.

  “Now, there’s some fruit that needs pealing over there. Show me that you can use it properly.”

  The boy did as he was bid.

  “No, not like that, lad.” He held out his hand and the boy

  gave him back the knife. “I think I’ll call you Gwilliam.”

  “My name’s…”

  Fenn grabbed the boy’s arm.

  “You peal it like so.”

  The boy’s cries filled the chamber.

  “Think you can do that next time?”

  Sobbing, the boy nodded.

  He pointed at another piece of fruit. “Show me correctly this time,” he said, smiling like his demon possessed master. “Excellent.” He could practically hear the girl’s screams already, wondering if he she call her Truthsayer. “Yes, just like that.” No, his hate demanded another name. “Just like that.”

  Third Tier, Imperial Capital

  The curtains were drawn, withholding the morning light. Carwina sat hunched forward practically kneeling over his bedside. The silver-haired servant awoke her with a start, “I’ve brought you breakfast, Milady.”

  “Father?” she mumbled.

  The servant shook his head, “There has been no change in the Highmage’s, uh, condition, Milady.”

  She glanced at her father, who lay enshrouded in an enchantment unlike any she had ever heard of. He lived, suspended just moments from death, to what purpose still remained unclear. She had overheard the whispers between Master Healer Ofran and Master Stenh, the Dean of the Mage Academy. Her father’s spirit was gone, bent toward some unknown errand to forestall the Demonlord’s latest scheme.

  “You must take heart, Milady. Highmage Alrex will –– must recover.”

  She patted the servant’s hand. “Of course, he shall... We need him if we are to survive what I fear must be coming.” Yet, echoing from her dreams she heard the Lord of Demon’s maniacal laughter.

  The stricken Highmage dreamed within his sustaining cocoon of magery. Recently it had been a nightmare, but events had changed significantly for the better. However, he knew he had little time and must husband every ounce of strength for the challenges to come. He could feel the Demonlord’s rue, echoing with the loss of his agent in the ancient keep of Niota at the edge of the Empire and knew it was because of the interfering human.

  Alrex had summoned, Je’orj Bradlei, an archeo––logist, a man from another world that had no understanding of elvin magery. He only possessed human gifts and his kind’s lost technology.

  His arrival had not gone as expected. Reality shifted. One moment the Demonlord’s schemes to overthrow the world seemed assured, the next it was not…

  Je’orj was finding himself bound more firmly to this land that was not his own with each passing day. He had helped save a cursed foreign lordling’s life and acquired bodyguards with a life debt, of a sort. He had freed a were and now had a fosterling, who made a powerful protector.

  The man was stubborn, but Je’orj would come here. He had no choice. He wanted to go home. But that was not going to be enough. You will come to me and fulfill your destiny… You shall save this world whether you will it or no. To believe otherwise, led to the unthinkable. The Demonlord, once long ago King of the Elves, would destroy the Empire, then all life.

  The Highmage’s soul enveloped his charge, warding him from scrying, making it impossible for the Demonlord’s agents to track and find him. His spirit observed events around the man in a way that mere scrying had never allowed. If a spirit could smile, his would.

  He abruptly felt “pushed.”

  Back off, his chosen champion demanded.

  Understanding, he did not loosen his focus one bit.

  :I think he would prefer you stop staring,: a distinctly different voice said. :It is rather… impolite:

  If he could have, he would now be grinning. He eased the pressure of his presence and turned outward, wishing he could “see” for leagues beyond Je’orj’s ken.

  .Niota Reprise

  Chapter 1

  The last remaining of the keep’s ogres looked about the courtyard and felt something stirring. Once this was an Imperial border stronghold, a gateway to the human held Crescent Lands along the Empire’s eastern border, which lay below the escarpment. For centuries, merchants had brought their wares here for trade fairs. Imperial mages and soldiers had been stationed here.

  Elvin lords had ruled Niota, pledged to both peace and defense. The keep had been a fine place in those bygone days; then two centuries ago the trade routes shifted. Merchants started sending their goods further south by way of the expanded route which reached from Hollif, in the Crescent Lands, through the Imperial Province of Rian, or by ship to the provincial city of Tane.

  Now, Niota was merely a sanctuary for ragged refugees from outside the Empire and thought to be manned by Lord Niota’s long since dead household guard. Yet, the refugees who had fled here found themselves living a nightmare. One of the Dark One’s minions had taken over the keep and held it by the most devious of enchantments. The resident clan of ogres either fled or died trying to defend their chosen ground, leaving only Walsh, who had been too young to fight, trapped by the evil creature’s, Raslinn’s, spells.

  “Walsh,” the boy at his side whispered as those about them looked at each other anxiously, “are you all right?”

  All right? he wondered. He glanced down at his only friend. Walsh had long been a prisoner in the keep and the too skinny boy of thirteen, Thomi, his only solace. The lad had courage, had bearded his den and not run screaming at the very sight of him. Walsh had no desire to harm the innocent, had merely gazed curiously at his uninvited guest. Thomi, realizing that Lord Raslinn was punishing the ogre, smuggled him food, which endeared the lad to him.

  Vaguely Walsh remembered another time and place when he had once been a boy with curly hair. He shook himself. That was a memory from another’s lifetime under the light of another star, something the brute ogre had tried to explain once or twice, but knew that his course speech made impossible to understand. That was the curse of his kind – they could sometimes remember being human, but never aspire to be again. He looked at his thick gnarled hands, reborn in so ghastly a form.

  Walsh turned and looked at the boy kindly and stammered, “I – fine.” But the very air seemed to tremble around him, expectant. He straightened, wondering if he could do a Service as had been done in Niota before Raslinn came. Yet, then he had not been alone. He frowned as memory filled him, showing him his clan’s every word and deed.

  The Cathartan in her black livery, Cle’or, crossed the courtyard and came up to them, gazing up at him. He met the woman’s challenging look with a smile. It would be good to perform the Service again while this one watched. She and her friends had dealt with the evil that corrupted this place. He had touched the living essence of Niota once already during that fight. The Service would complete its healing – might do more than that, actually. He looked about him at the broken down keep, remembering its former grandeur.

  “Je’orj,” she whispered awakening.

  He coughed standing by the window half dressed. “Um, good morning.”

  His blonde haired young bodyguard, Fri’il, abruptly adjusted the covers, then stared at him. “Uh, I had the strangest dream.”

  With a sigh, he met her gaze. “You – uh – nearly died yesterday.”

  “It wasn’t a dream then? Any of it?”

  He shook his head, returning to her side, bent and kissed her gently on the forehead. What
was done was done, he thought

  sheepishly as he answered, “Afraid not.”

  The young woman suddenly let out a whoop for joy and burst from the sheets, throwing her arms around him. “I love you!”

  Half–heartedly he struggled, blushing. “Uh, Fri’il, don’t get the wrong idea, this changes nothing… I still intend to return to my world.” The Summoning welled within him in protest, urging him to ardor – urging him to accept all this world offered. George gasped as his computer staff flared standing fixed beside the bed. “Back off,” he muttered, wincing.

  She frowned, then glanced at the staff. “Oh, I think not,” she said, kissing him and pulling him back onto the bed.

  The Summoning exulted, emphasizing her words. “Staff,” he rasped, feeling overwhelmed as he fought Fri’il’s kiss. “Um, Fri’il…”

  His crystalline computer staff, wrapped in insulating wyvern hide, which also enabled it to appear merely a piece of wood, pushed back the worst of the Summoning’s effect. :George, I have calculated that dampening the Summoning will have little effect on your, uh, present plight.:

  The black liveried Se’and, the leader of the escort of four Cathartans, sat alone on the keep’s parapet. She stared down the escarpment, pushing back her sandy colored hair. Clouds enwrapped the sight of the lands far below. The pale furred beast with a jet black mane bounded out of the arched doorway near Je’orj’s chambers.

  Se’and glanced down the hall and saw Me’oh now standing guard outside his door. Me’oh gave her a long look, shook her head. Se’and nodded, knowing that she had no right to feel this way. This is exactly what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Je’orj was finally accepting his fate. The House of Je’orj, a proper Cathartan House even if established by Bond, had a future now.