Highmage (Highmage's Plight Book 4) Read online

  “Quiet, I’m concentrating,” she replied.

  The bells rang out and Aaprin closed his eyes and muttered, “Staff.”

  ‘Linking.’

  ‘Hey, Aap,’ Revit said with a mental chuckle.

  “Concentrate on the task at hand, Revit,” he muttered.

  ‘You’re definitely no fun,’ Terus griped.

  BOYS.

  Aaprin winced and that word was not even directed at him. ‘Sorry,

  Lord Je’orj.’

  The plan is to use your penchant for mischief on the bad guys, not distract us from defending ourselves.

  :George, boys will be boys.:

  Don’t you start.

  :Excuse me, George… motion detected.:

  Showtime.

  Grendel sat in a circle of thirteen small smooth stones. He was quietly chanting and felt the resonance with the twelve other mages positioned around the tier with the estate in the exact center.

  Mist rose, thickening outside, obscuring even a dwarf’s famed night vision. The mist also deadened sound.

  On Grendel chanted, a cruel smile curling his lips. The mist curled as it approached the splintering wooden gate. The dwarf atop the wall swayed, the mist filling his nostrils. His eyes rolled up in his head and he sagged across the edge of the wall.

  The men he had hired battering ram in the fore, each wearing a charm that fogged their memories, ran silently through the fog. The gate collapsed under the first blow, soundlessly. The men paused at the ease of it, then gathered themselves and barreled toward the front door.

  George’s plan did not begin with his large horse rearing and jumping over the corral fence. “How did she get out of her stall again?” George muttered as Staff offered a real-time schematic.

  :Well, she’s a rather passionate and loyal creature,: Staff remarked.

  The mare was suddenly in the midst of the intruders, spinning and striking out with her back hooves, knocking men and their battering ram to the ground. Tett looked at Spiro and tried to say in the preternatural silence, “What do we do now?”

  The dwarven bard turned back to stare at the mist recoiling from the warhorse that most definitely was not and did what no dwarf like himself should, he sang out in ancient elvin, the words lilting, yet strong, cutting through the mist. The horse shrieked in anger and the intruders’ cries and shouts filled the courtyard.

  Tett gaped at Spiro, then shaking his head, yelled, “To arms! To arms! Enemies in the courtyard!”

  The dwarves leapt from hiding and charged.

  :Uh, there goes your brilliant plan.:

  “Okay, we’ll go with the regular one then,” George muttered.

  Revit’s thought asked so helpfully, :And exactly what would that be, Lord Je’orj?:

  “We’ll wing it.”

  The mists swirled. More dwarves than should be on duty were driving his hired killers back. The warhorse bit and kicked. Several charms began exploding and the men gasped and fell. The mist roiled in anger as Spiro came up to the glaring mare, whose eyes filled with tears. She shook her head and her teardrops fell near her bites. The three with the broken charms groaned as the tears raced across their bodies and reached her bites.

  Grendel glared at the warhorse and the dwarves through the mist. “This will not save you, human,” he rasped, then sang out his spell.

  The mist swirled and swirled. The dwarves found themselves immobilized, all save one. Spiro looked about him, then rasped, “In for a spoonful, in for pint!” He sang out “The Call.”

  The dwarves broke free and rallied, crying out for their lord who was forever lost, “Tane!”

  The fallen cutthroats rose, save three who writhed, while those who had sought to flee found themselves turning, their sight now that of Grendel’s mages, who possessed them. They drew or grabbed up daggers, which suddenly glowed a lurid red, matching their eldritch gaze. They charged and the dwarves could not hold them back.

  :Now, George?: Staff asked.

  “As good a time as any,” he muttered.

  Chuckling with delight, Revit and Terus let loose their mayhem. A man had a dwarf pinned to the ground, dagger raised to strike, his eyes cold and glowing when his pants… caught fire. “Ahhhhhhhh!” he cried, the spell breaking as he rolled around trying to put it out. The dwarf hastily got back to his feet, grabbed his hammer and whacked the man on the head just as he finish dosing the flame on his smoking and largely burned pants.

  “Ahhhhhh!” another cried and another.

  Of course, George thought the hot foot approached, which was making the majority dance, breaking the spell that thralled them the more economical in psychic energy. “Ouch, ouch!”

  The mist roiled, coiled into a fist, shot across the courtyard and slammed into the first door, once, twice, thrice…

  :Aaprin?: Staff said as his mind probed the circle surrounding them.

  “Thirteen,” he muttered as Gallen held his hand. “Each will be warded by thirteen fairy stones. Each will have a rune spell carved beneath.”

  :Your Academy training does you proud.:

  “I had a lot of time to read since nothing else could I seem to do,” the elfblood adolescent whispered, “which is good, because it’s possible to disrupt their circle.”

  :You read that, too: George asked.

  “Actually, it’s something I learned from you, which means Grendel won’t know how to counter it.”

  Bam, they heard echo from above, which made the two babes cry. “What’s that?” Herald Varian rasped.

  Juels rocked Ri’ori as Me’oh whispered to her daughter, “It’s all right, my sweet. All will be well.”

  Raven sniffed, there was a new scent in the air. One she liked not at all. A stone in the foundation wall shook. Dust fell from its sides.

  Clawd swallowed, “That can’t be good.”

  She growled.

  Fri’il’s sword began to glow. She cursed. “Herald, Clawd, I suggest you move over there by Me’oh and Juels. Andre, I think now will be a good time to put Cle’or’s training to use!”

  She drew two throwing blades and smiled uncertainly, “Uh, yes, Milady.”

  Balfour moved quickly among the wounded dwarves being brought to him in the barn as the legionnaire sergeant steadied the mount he had borrowed. Cle’or called down from the hall loft, “Something’s coming through the gate!”

  “Lads, sounds like a job for the legion!” He raised his bane sword and his mount led his detachment’s charge onto the grounds.

  The mist shattered the door and coalesced into a form, sensing its brothers gathering without. Find him, kill them all.

  It paused, scented life, entered. Kill them all.

  The creatures glistened. They appeared as living glass. The defending dwarves tried to hack at them with hammer and axe, to no effect. The creatures just shoved them away like disowned dogs. It was Je’orj’s mare that shattered the first, rear, punching out with a right hoof like a boxer’s jab.

  It fell back as hooves thundered from the rear of the house. The sergeant reached out, bane sword afire, swinging as he came among upon the nearest. His second’s borrowed mount leaped and shouldered the next, which shrieked and shattered, bringing all the others to a stop.

  Grendel and the mages bound to him cried out as magery backlashed. The younger legionnaire with a trace of elvin blood felt… stronger than he ever had. His sword, not bane forged, flared with light as he raised it, casting aside the night.

  Behind him rode the legion, scything down the fey creatures and riding out of the gate.

  Gallen’s grip was dripping with sweat as she poured herself into the illusion as Aaprin swayed stabbing into the underbelly of the closest circle. The runes glowed as he changed one, adding a line that deformed its meaning. To another circle his thoughts sped, claiming another rune, and on he went as the mages chanted all the more intently.

  The battle steed mare drew up in front of Je’orj and knelt making it easier to mount.

  “Bareb
ack? Lovely.” Staff in hand he climbed on.

  Se’and held out her arm and smiled.

  The mare turned her head to watch and somehow George just knew the beast wasn’t going anywhere without her. He held out his hand, she clasped in and climbed on behind him, taking a firm hold around his waist. “Now let’s show those who would think to be our enemies why it’s never a good idea, Milord.”

  Before he could respond the mare rose up and galloped off as Se’and knocked his breath away and he held on for dear life.

  Yet to Grendel and his elvin ilk they saw no sign of what was occurring. “Aaprin!” Gallen cried as he slumped, unconscious, pulled down into the Underhill reality the rune spell now spun.

  The creature shrieked as it cast the falc to the side and stepped down into the cellar only to face something bigger than it was, which roared and leapt upon it.

  Raven shook herself, shimmered and changed back to beast form as a smaller version of the creature was thrown through the gaping doorway. The sergeant rode the small battle steed mare inside, who kicked out her hind legs as another pursued her. It shattered as she reared in the high ceilinged entry.

  The smaller creature between them gathered itself. The sergeant leaned forward and swung his bane sword, which shattered one of its appendage blades. It slashed back at him, cutting his arm, and cut at the mare’s hide only to have that appendage shatter. The creature recoiled, gathering itself to leap at the rider. That’s when the larger creature was thrown across the room into it, shattering both to pieces.

  The hulking ogre staggered near the kitchen and rasped, “Not had… such fun… long time.”

  The sergeant stared as his mount took a step back and said whinnied.

  “Came from? Why the basement… of course,” the she-ogre said as an old man crept up from the cellar.

  “Is it safe yet?”

  “Melvyn… told you… to stay… down there.”

  Raven shook her head watching as it grew too quiet outside.

  “Mallory, since when have I ever done what I was told, eh?” he replied. “By the way, fine job sergeant, isn’t it?”

  “Sir?”

  “Oh, don’t mind me.”

  The ogre clenched her fist as the sergeant rode back and paused to block the gaping doorway. Tett edged past and said, “They’re gone.”

  “Nice place you have here,” the old man said to the gaping dwarf, “but it could use some major redecorating.”

  “Huh?”

  Chapter

  26

  The mage chanted in his circle of stone. He did not appear to be moving, but she knew he was from his perspective. It was not how Underhill typically worked, time normally ran faster, not slower, but then again… having survived worse she could affect worse.

  Her hair cascading down her bare back, barefoot, she crossed the circle’s wards and bit into the mage’s exposed shoulder, tears in her eyes.

  He cried out then writhed as she vanished as quickly as she had appeared behind him. Cloth tore and the stones went flying as time sped up toward normal but not faster than the curse that was claiming him.

  Grendel felt the world twisting out of his control. He demanded his mist creatures to reform and so they did. Smaller, arms turned to blades, even as the largest in the house found the cellar door, and burst through it.

  A falc flew into its face and cut deep. With a cry, Grendel found his face bloodied. “Where are you, human?!”

  “Why, right here, Grendel.”

  He turned and rose to his feet, seeing his nemesis and his black liveried bodyguard. “You!” Then he laughed. “You think you can defeat me? I’m in a circle, warded from the likes of you.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t think of disturbing you in the prison of your own making.”

  “What?”

  Balfour looked at the three writhing cutthroats. “What’s wrong with them?” Cle’or asked.

  “Haven’t the faintest idea,” he replied.

  The mare sauntered over with an ogress, who gestured. “She’s claimed them.”

  “You, uh, have a good command of speech,” he replied.

  “Have not gotten a lot of… practice lately.”

  An old man with a cane walked out of the house and saw the last of the mist occluding the night sky vanish. Juels peered from the broken doorway and hoped her luck was holding…

  Grendel stared, “It’s not possible.”

  “Time will tell, I suppose,” the human mage replied, although his lips weren’t moving.

  “You can’t be here.”

  “You’re right.”

  Looking down at the stones he moved to cross over. His eyes widened when he could not cross. “What have you done to me?”

  “To you? Little ole’ me.”

  “Let me out of here!”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that. You see, I’m not here.”

  A stone flared. Grendel stared. “What have you done?!”

  “Oh, that wasn’t me.”

  The stone next to the first flared. “Oo, looks like your time’s running out.”

  “What is going on?”

  “I think a horse is taking a nip or something. She really seems to have a mind of her own.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, I have this tendency to make the oddest friends…”

  “Somehow I can believe that. Now, free me.”

  “Stop trying to kill me and show some loyalty to Her Majesty and the Empire.”

  “I am loyal to Her Majesty and the Empire… stopping you from becoming Highmage is for the good of both.”

  “Well, to tell you the truth I don’t really want to be Highmage or the Empress’s consort.”

  “Fine, leave the Empire and go back wherever it is you came from.”

  “I intend to. That’s the problem.”

  “Milord!”

  “Tsk, tsk, Se’and, now, back to matters at hand.” Another stone flared. “Nine to go, then it’s your turn. Grendel, fulfill your oath to the Empress and Empire and I’ll be happy to free you.”

  Another stone flared.

  Grendel settled his hands behind his back. “You aren’t fit to be Highmage.”

  “Says the fellow in there to the nice guy out here.”

  His face reddened. “You are… not fit… to be… Highmage… you pompous twit!”

  And with that he stepped out of the circle and thrust he glowing hands out as magefire appeared and cast them at…

  The human and his companion weren’t there and it was daylight outside. “It can’t be.” Then he turned back to circle of stones, all were burned save one.

  “Well, your plan worked.”

  He turned and with a thin smile to Kolter. “Then she’s done it?”

  “She’s committed every last member of the Imperial Guard to Tiers.”

  “But I had not counted on it costing me twelve mages… What did he do to them?”

  Kolter shook his head, “Without the Scryer’s Network I have no idea, much less how he accomplished it. Now, however, we can end this idiocy once and for all and see you raised to Highmage as you should be, my friend.”

  Grendel nodded.

  The Sergeant and the men of his detachment knelt, staring at the woman wrapped in the horse blanket standing in the corral as the dwarves could be heard sawing wood and building a new front door and gate. “My lady, I… I don’t know what to say.”

  She turned to the fifteen stallions. “You will serve this man and the Legion. You will defend the Empire and the Empress until death. Do you understand me?”

  The battle steeds nodded as one. “Sergeant, treat them well. Choose their riders wisely.”

  She glanced at the upstairs window at her watching rider, who shook his head and smiled. She nodded as Raven flew down from open window, shimmered and changed into a girl, “Come.”

  She followed her through the kitchen door. Me’oh glanced up and chuckled, “You’ve lovely hair, my dear.”

  “Uh
, thank you.”

  The ogress sitting in the living room sighed, “I remember… having hair… that color once… Got it out of a bottle, though.”

  Andre frowned hearing that as Juels came down the stairs with her, recently woken, though it was mid-afternoon. Aaprin and Gallen were still asleep. Revit and Terus had actually promised not to disturb them.

  “We’ve guests approaching!” Tett shouted.

  The lady edged past Andre and paused to stare down at Juels, who scooted aside. Cle’or stood at the top of the stairs and led her back to Je’orj’s study. “Milady, welcome,” Se’and said as she entered.

  Fri’il sat in a chair, having just finished feeding her daughter.

  George sighed, “Excuse the family scene, but seeing as you’ve apparently been a part of the family for a long time, I suspect, I thought we should have a talk… Se’and, can we get the lady a robe at least?”

  “No need.”

  “At least for a sense of propriety.”

  “I am… your steed.”

  “You’re a shape changer… a person.”

  “Shape changer? Not exactly,” she said, touching her pointy and tufted right ear.

  “What are you then?”

  “Apparently I was… the last battle steed… in the Empire.”

  “What’s your name?”

  She shook her head and Se’and offered her a robe, which she declined, truly preferring the blanket she wrapped around herself. “I have no memory of that… but I am partial to… your name for me.”

  “Babylon?”

  “I like your calling me Lonny.”

  “And his giving you apples, no doubt,” Fri’il said with a grin.

  “I love apples.”

  George winced. “I’ve been trying to think back to exactly when I first remember riding you.”

  “It was the Barrows.”

  “Ah huh… I seem to remember a picture on the wall of you.”

  “It was not a picture.”

  “You were trapped in the image?”

  “Not trapped… waiting.”

  “Waiting? For what?”