Highmage (Highmage's Plight Book 4) Page 2

  He sighed, how could he respond that? Se'and laid her hand on his shoulder as Fri'il looked back at him in shock as the silence lengthened. "We are yours by bond. We shall safeguard you and your House. I know you do not recognize our laws as binding. No matter. The two of us are still your wives and shall guard you as is our duty."

  "And I will bear you this child and others, my lord. The House of Je'orj shall grow strong. You shall see."

  As George began to turn away, his expression could not hide his mixed emotions. Se'and asked rather quietly, "How long until you must return to the Guild?"

  He paused. "I must be back in the morning."

  Fri'il gasped and angrily retorted, "I'll not have you gone another month!"

  "Shush," Se'and admonished her. "Our lord husband does what he must. His being with us now is all that matters."

  The young blonde haired women trembled in frustration, while Se'and calmly asked George to take his mischievous apprentices, Revit and Terus, with him this time. "Their shenanigans wear quite thin when you are well out of their sight."

  "What did they do this time?" he asked.

  "What didn't they do!?" shouted Fri'il, plainly aggrieved.

  “Will nothing ever be simple?” George muttered.

  The staff twinkled as it replied enrapport, :Never will ever be simple,

  George. That would be too much to expect.:

  Chapter

  2

  The urchins of Gallen's Pack rose early. They numbered almost one hundred, sitting in groups across the abandoned warehouse.

  The place made a good home. It was one of many the Pack had taken over since Gallen had begun aiding the forgotten waifs scattered across the Seventh Tier's disreputable streets and alleys. His rules were many and treated on one level as games, but all had serious purposes that made Gallen's lot appear healthier than any other group of urchins scattered through the lower tiers.

  Gallen's troop was a small army of thieves. Food, clothes, jewels and coin, were the primary prize or had been until recently. The Pack had undertaken a new and profitable game under rather proficient adult training. They were becoming a superb spy network. In return for the information they could ferret, they learned skills with dagger and their own two hands that astounded them. It was a greater, more exciting game than they had ever before played.

  As they reported to their lieutenants for assignment, none yet realized they were about to learn the consequences of thinking this merely a game.

  Clawd was on recon. His objectives were simple today— food and potential profit.

  He was glad to be off dock duty, counting mages could get rather boring, unless they were trying to conceal the fact of their arrival.

  Ebb claimed he had caught one doing just that at the Eastern Gate the other day. But few believed him, a good illusion would fool even them and was nothing to berate oneself for not realizing, Gallen had averred, coming up behind the excited group.

  Well, illusion notwithstanding, Clawd was glad to be off that odious duty today. Tomorrow, he could look forward to training with Master

  Terhun. Wistfully, the urchin lad grinned, liking the training in lock picking better than almost anything else did.

  "PST."

  Clawd glanced to the alley to his right. A lovely young woman stood there, her head covered by a long shawl. He gaped as her hands moved in the Pack's signal pattern and read her message in alarm. Clenching his right fist, he acknowledged and raced back the way he had come with no time to wonder how the woman had come to know their code.

  The fact that the Pack must take heed of the warning of terrible danger was all that mattered.

  The Pack had divided into three teams. Andre's was known as the Pack Rats, some private joke all those in that team seemed to understand. The Pack Rats were the smallest group in number, yet that seemed not to burden their efficiency in the least.

  Ruke's and Colvin's teams were simply known by their lieutenants’ names. Between them they made up eighty percent of the Rats numbers. It was from their ranks that Gallen most often chose squads to accompany him as a sort of floating reserve. Yet more often than not Gallen spent time with the Pack Rats.

  Gallen washed that morning beneath an overflowing section of the Tier's aqueduct, which formed a modest shower. He doubted anyone would come to repair it unless the aqueduct suffered serious water loss farther along.

  The place was secluded, making it perfect for the use of the Andre's Pack Rats, who accompanied him that morning. Secluded places to bathe were more important to Andre's team than anyone could know.

  Gallen watched the urchins strip down in pairs. The rest on guard, alert against any passersby. Andre's Rats had great reason to fear for their privacy. Few among the other Rats even suspected the truth.

  Juels raised arms high, luxuriating in the stinging cold water shower her as their private waterfall. Gallen watched the urchin turn basking beneath the cascade. "Juels'll be a real beauty someday," Andre murmured coming up behind him.

  Chuckling, Gallen replied, "I've thought the same about you a time or two."

  With a wan smile, Andre shrugged, "What am I going to do?"

  "About what?" Gallen asked, trying to sound innocent.

  "Ruke."

  "Hmm?"

  "Damn it, Gallen… you know he's in love with me. I won't be able to play the boy forever with Ruke dogging my every step like he's been doing."

  "He's said nothing to anyone, Andre. I've noticed, but the others certainly haven't. And if they should, there is a ploy we yet could try that likely would keep the secret safe, if the two of you really would like to spend time together."

  Andre blushed. "Yet how long could we keep up the pretense? I am the oldest of this lot, but none of us can hide our, uh, curves forever."

  Gallen frowned, fought back a sudden welter of emotion. "No, of course not..."

  The urchins moved about the street, searching out a bit of breakfast. A fruit hawker or two tossed some to the less appetizing items to the raggedly dressed lads. It was the best way to prevent the lifting of more succulent and saleable merchandise,

  Colvin casually signaled. They had their assignments to do. By ones and twos his team quickly split up, while a grizzled looking man stroked his beard, watching them.

  "Two golds a piece," he muttered before calling over two waiting companions. Two golds apiece could pay for lots and lots of things.

  Ebb turned at the cry behind him, one of his friends had been grabbed and stuck in a sack without a by your leave. At a more distant cry, Ebb turned to immediately hide, once the danger was past he could seek help.

  "Agoin' somewheres, lad?"

  Ebb stared wide-eyed at the knife wielding man before him, who abruptly slashed at him. The boy dived, the knife-edge slicing a line across his arm. When he came up, it was with a rock in his hand, which he threw hard into his foe's face.

  The man gasped, his nose gashed and bloodied, allowing Ebb his best chance to race past. The man cursed as grabbed the boy back, then tossed him at the nearest wall.

  He hit with a resounding smack and sank bonelessly to the ground. "Bounty said nothin' bout what kinda shape they have to be in."

  Ruke was making his way toward his favorite vantage of the Eastern Gate when he found his way suddenly blocked by a gap toothed man, "Well, hi there, young fella."

  "One of Gallen's, aren't ye?" said a voice a presence suddenly behind him, sending a chill down Ruke's spine even as he quickly glanced back at the man.

  "Don' know no one name Gallen, Sir."

  A woman looked down from a window, "He's own a' Gallen's sure enough. Now ye be quick! There's more money to be made. The bounty hold's afor each one!"

  Ruke not liking the sound of that at all desperately leapt toward the man in front of him, an old crooked dagger suddenly revealed in his slight hand. Surprised, the man cringed back with a curse, blood fountaining across his palm as Ruke ran for his life.

  "Get 'im! Ya fools!" the woman in
the window cried.

  Clawd was out of breath when he saw to his horror the small bruised and beaten form tied up in the back of the wagon, ill hidden in the alley.

  Looking right and left, he heard a man curse as he fought to carry a squirming boy to the wagon. His feet dangling, the waif kicked him hard a second time. "That the way of it, then!" he yelled and threw his prisoner down.

  The child gasped and struggled to catch his breath as the burly man hefted him once more off the ground on thrust him onto the wagon.

  "Hey!" shouted one of his companions further down the alley, "No promise of bounty, if you kill 'im!"

  As the figure tied the lad, he muttered darkly, "You don't know that for truth! Bounty's two Golds is all!" The boy cringed as the man slapped him resoundingly, then looked as if he were considering further damage.

  "I'll watch!" hurried, cried his companion, ushering him back down the alley. "Now you go round up another! There's money to be made sure."

  Grimly the brute's greed swayed him as he moved off, while Clawd watched from hiding, knowing sickeningly that the warning he had been given was far too late. The Pack was being hunted down and there seemed nothing he could do to stop it.

  Juels had taken point down the alley, when she first saw the men. They appeared to be waiting in ambush for someone. Well, one thing was sure. The Rats didn't want to be near anyone's ambush.

  She hurried back and signaled to Andre, who nodded, and subtly changed the direction of the whole group. There was a cry from the ambushers, who abruptly abandoned then plan and charged out after the urchins.

  That was when Juels realized that the ambush had been intended for them. She cried out in warning and prayed she had learned her lessons well over the last few weeks.

  When the urchins drew rusty daggers, shards of glass, even sharpened rocks the men only began to realize their mistake. The instant Andre's Pack Rats charged them, screaming, they found unexpectedly themselves fighting for their very lives.

  An ambusher cried out, a glass shard embedded in his eye. The urchins seemed to be everywhere, cutting at their arms and legs, dodging the blades wielded by the adults with a frightening skill.

  Six men had participated in the ambush. Four were down. Several urchins were nursing bruises, but all of them were still standing and looking at the two remaining men fiercely. Blood dripped from Andre's blade as the urchin proclaimed, licking her lips, "Mm, fresh meat, children."

  The two men broke and ran.

  Juels shook her head in puzzlement, trying not to look at the still forms lying on the ground or hear the moans of the living. "What was that all about?"

  Andre frowned, kneeling beside the least injured of the fallen, who cringed back at the urchin's touch. "Wan' no more trouble," he pled. "Shoulda knowed the bounty couldn'ta been worth it!"

  Andre blanched as the Rats looked at each other, confused. "By the Empress!" Andre gasped. "We're in for it now."

  Colvin faced his attacker squarely. His knife the best he had been able to steal. The previous owner had dropped it after an ignominious death at the hand of a rather jealous husband.

  The man charged, Colvin turned with his attacker, grabbed his arm and yanked him off-balance. The man sputtered in surprise, hurried back to his feet even as Colvin's knife pierced him. Colvin fought to catch his breath, glancing to-and-fro, in case there were any others.

  There was a word spoken. Colvin was sudden immobilized, his eyes staring fixed in the direction he had been looking, his arm half raised to strike again, if need be.

  He heard the sound of booted feet approaching him across the cobbles. Then he saw the elvin cast face came to peering at him. Colvin wanted to scream in rage and drive his dagger into that hateful face.

  "Oh, you shall do nicely, indeed."

  Gallen paused. There was a sound that was not a sound. His skin tingled. He paled, turning. The street was not a street.

  Dark robed figures appeared. "You are the one called Gallen," one rasped.

  "Yes," he heard himself reply distantly.

  "Your Pack has come upon sad times. It seems you've chosen the wrong friends in the city."

  Gallen paled, unable to break the grip of the powerful enchantment. He had to break free, fearing what could happen to him in this ether place.

  "You can move only at our bidding, lad. Speak only to answer the questions we bid you. Oh, a truth every word they shall be, or we'll make you watch what happens to your little friends one by one. That should be lesson enough for meddling in matters that were none of your concern."

  Anger flared and with it the cunning and skill that had always served Gallen well. I can't move, but who is to say I need to? Concentrate. I refuse to be a victim.

  "GALLEN, COULD YOU USE A BIT OF HELP?"

  The mages turned, staring behind them in surprise at the sight of the

  human mage standing there, twirling his glowing staff in his hands. When he stopped its spin, it smacked into his palm blazing a brilliant white.

  Then came the growl from the midst of the misty ether.

  The pale beast with the black mane that championed the human padded forward out of the misty ether.

  "This can't be," shouted one of the mages. "This is a sealed plane!"

  George canted his head and grinned, "Is that so!?"

  The staff flared. Instantly, Gallen stumbled free of immobility, then scurried off out of sight into the ether without a by your leave.

  Balking, the mages hurriedly mounted their defenses, crying out elvin words of power. Lightning shot from their hands blasting at the mage and his charging tawny haired, black maned beast. Energy shot forth from George's staff as the beast dodged the lightning intended for it. With a terrible roar it leapt.

  A mage fell beneath its claws and teeth, screaming in fear as it tore at him, its teeth looking like the sharpest knives as they sought his throat. A moment later with a cry of despair, both the elfblood mage and the tawny beast vanished. The ether reverberated with the loss of one of its living contacts, the sound of thunder almost deafening.

  Incredulous, as the enchanted plane seemed to teeter around him. The other mage gasped a hurried spell intended to obliterate the human mage once and for all.

  Lightning blasted from his fingers, and instantly rebounded back at him, struck aside by George's staff. The elvin mage cried in utter horror, his deadly energies playing over him briefly before he too vanished.

  With the last living contact of the enchantment withdrawn, the etheric plane shattered around the image of a suddenly alone, still paralyzed Gallen.

  Abruptly elsewhere and free of the spell, Gallen fell limply to his knees. His legs struck the cobbles of the street in the Seventh Tier bringing tears of pain to his eyes, yet he was grateful just to be alive. Coughing, he turned his head and noted the taproom sign to his left, then Master Rolf's gaping face in the window, before exhausted by the illusions he had spun, he fainted.

  Chapter

  3

  :The session is going better than expected, don't you think?: Staff commented.

  George glanced at the staff in his hand even as he heard the boys, Revit and Terus, snicker. Aaprin as his senior apprentice turned fully about in his chair and gave the pair a dart look. They instantly sobered and straightened in their seats.

  Raven raised her black maned head and sniffed the air before languidly rising to her haunches. She laid her muzzle to edge of Je'orj's assigned booth and peered down at the latest—complainant.

  The old out-Province mage wore the Guild mark of a Llewellyn master. "Panel of Most Esteemed Archmages, I feel compelled to point out an important factor those who have come before me appeared most ignorant."

  The Archmage Regis as ranking elvin member presiding proclaimed, "Pray continue—all points at issue must be aired before the Conclave may properly commence."

  "Thank you, Milord. As a human being seeking Candidacy, there is one role he is incapable of fulfilling. One most portentous to the wellbeing of
the Empire against the Dark we contend so vigorously."

  "Do you have a new argument against a human?" the Archmage Andienne of Tane asked, almost hopefully.

  "I most assuredly do, Eminence."

  Archmage Regis sighed, knowing how long debate had gone on already— and was likely to continue to. "Proceed."

  The Llwelyn pointed at the quietly seated George. "It was long ago realized that for every elf there is a human doppelganger. Our elvin blood seems to attract such reflections. This no one disputes."

  The Faeryn of Faeryn, Abernathy, leaned forward, "Well, not exactly dispute the happenstance itself—just the rigid theory usually espoused."

  "Master!" shouted the Llwelyn in shock at the heresy.

  Lord Regis fought to keep the grin from his face. "Archmage Abernathy, that argument is four hundred years old already and unlikely to be settled today."

  The Faeryn archmage nodded and sat back. Regis sighed, impatiently gestured for the Llwelyn to continue.

  "To my point… as a human he has no soul, no ethereal spirit. Without which he can never have a doppelganger—a reflection of his existence. The doppels of Highmages are legendary. They have traveled across the width and breadth of the Empire accomplishing the greatest tasks... Highmage Alrex's dopple in decades past was no less famed for setting back the Dark One's schemes one by one!

  "And now you talk of a human's candidacy? What folly, when the strength a Highmage wields in the reflection he casts will be stemmed. That threat to the realm can be ignored only at our peril!"

  There was a murmur throughout the Hall. George frowned, then whispered to Aaprin, "I don't understand this particular argument. What's this about doppelgangers?"

  The elfblooded lad looked at him worriedly, "Well, it stems from the fact that, well, there are humans who often companion mages. The companioning itself is a unique bond. The elf and human feel each other's danger. There are tales of such men and women intervening in matters which should have been far beyond their mortal ken—interrupting powerful enchantments, making them go awry. That kind of thing.