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

  The beast rose on her haunches and shimmered. Raven stretched

  out her now human arms and Se’and drew her foster–daughter into her lap. “I must make quite a sight.”

  “Why sad?” Raven asked ever so faintly.

  Se’and shook her head. “In my homeland men are rarer than the most precious gem. Each is a lord with hundreds of wives and sires thousands of daughters, which barely assures the birth of one male heir in his lifetime. Cathart, itself, may be truly a Cursed land, but some say it is we, ourselves, who are cursed with the inability to bear male children in any viable numbers. Even those desperate enough to sire a child by the seafarers who dare our shore find themselves bearing only daughters. When one is lucky enough to bear a son, well, a House is born and she rules.”

  That she and the younger Fri’il were Bonded to Je’orj Bradlei, who claimed to come from a distant world, had, at first, seemed a burden. Her Sire’s choice in gifting her had seemed so unfair. Yet, discovering that Je’orj was a human mage, something unheard of in this world and fighting at his side, made it plain that the bonding was vital. The fact that Je’orj insufferably was affronted by the very thought that she and Fri’il were now his bodyguard wives was galling. He claimed such a relationship was unnatural; proclaimed he could not simple be wed with only the most casual wave of her Sire’s hand.

  His elfblooded companion, Balfour, who in his own way was just as foreign as Je’orj, had at least come to accept Me’oh and Cle’or. Je’orj had been unwilling to even acknowledge that he was a Cathartan Lord––by––Bond. However, he had come to accept their stewardship. It had become apparent that they needed each other if they were to survive. He would reach the one who had summoned him into this world. They would help him fulfill that mission. His purpose was simple, he would demand to be sent back. The success of that request was intolerable to contemplate. Yet, they were bound and would aid him as they must.

  That he had finally made love to Fri’il surely must be a good sign. That Fri’il was her junior and very lovely should matter not in the least. The House of Je’orj would be assured. She should be happy, shouldn’t she?

  Raven hugged Se’and as she began to sob, “Je’orj is such a stubborn fool. Drat the man!” Why Fri’il and not her? Jealousy raged even as the humor of her plight made her laugh. When had she fallen in love with that flaming idiot?

  The wer–child canted her head at the sound of her foster–mother’s laughter, knowing it was a good healthy sound.

  “Nothing is going to can change my decision,” he muttered after finally extricating him from the young woman dedicated to preserving his life.

  “Fine, but you are here with me,” she replied, sitting up facing him as George put on his shirt. “I seem to remember your liking my, uh, attentiveness.”

  “Please cover yourself,” he pleaded.

  She giggled, “It didn’t seem to bother you a moment ago.”

  “Oh, believe me it did.” That was what really worried him as he knew he had more than returned her kisses... He hastily turned to flee the room, his now quiescent computer staff in hand.

  “Je’orj?” she said, frowning. “Je’orj!”

  George drew aside what was little more than a blanket pegged to the doorway’s upper frame and in one step found himself confronting the well-armed Me’oh on guard.

  “Milord,” she said with a neutral expression.

  He stammered a response as Fri’il hurried naked to the doorway, using the blanket to cover herself. “Milord, if you will give me just a moment I can accompany you!”

  He coughed, “Uh, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be safe enough.” He tried not to run toward the stairs down the hall.

  Me’oh tried not to smile at his discomfiture. Fri’il looked about

  hastily, “Where are my weapons?”

  The older woman pointed against the hallway wall. “We found these locked away a few hours ago... but did not want to, uh, disturb you.”

  Fri’il actually blushed as she pointed, bring them in here. Me’oh nodded, retrieving them and brought them inside. “Thank you,” Fri’il said. “Hope we didn’t, uh, disturb you.”

  “Me? Not in the least.”

  George grimaced, overhearing that as he reached the stairway. His only thought was one of disgust with himself.

  :She is lovely,: Staff opined, :isn’t she?:

  “Oh, don’t start,” he muttered back, thinking Se’and must be pleased with herself. Yet, the Cathartans were only human – something he had to remind himself that he was, too.

  “Wait for me, Milord!” Fri’il shouted.

  He paused, shaking his head, then heard running feet. Glancing up the hall, he saw Raven, in girl form, running from the egress to the parapet, shimmer as she dropped to all fours, and came bounding toward him. “You on guard duty?”

  She nodded as she came to his side.

  He began going down the stairs as he heard Fri’il say, “Me’oh, um, where exactly are my clothes?”

  Cle’or had been patrolling the grounds, assuring herself that all was in order. Seeing the ogre and the boy as Walsh grinned with a terribly stupid look on his face, she decided to follow them. “Long – past – time. Do – Service, yes – Service,” he mumbled as he led them across the courtyard, stopping, frowning, shaking his head, then walking to another point, and another until he finally halted near the West Gate.

  He looked about him. “Here – should be... Yes, Yes... Here.”

  Thomi and Cle’or stared as the ogre knelt and felt the ground with his fingertips. The expectancy was indeed here beneath the stone, waiting. Walsh looked up as the human mage with the staff in his hand exited the main building. He waved to him. “Earthman,” he called out. “Kins—man!” he laughed, remembering a life of stars and spaceports.

  :George?: Staff mentally whispered, incredulous.

  He hurried to the ogre’s side and clasped Walsh’s hand. “Yes, I’m of Earth.”

  Walsh grinned, “Years – away – you – are... You – not – crew.”

  “No, I came here through the Gate. Not by ship... The Highmage summoned me.”

  Nodding, the ogre fought to maintain his clarity. “Danger – here.”

  “Raslinn’s no more,” George said.

  Shaking his head, Walsh muttered, wave his right hand fervently, “Danger – come... Must – be – ready... Niota – must – be – ready!”

  Thomi rushed to hug the ogre’s arm before he could accidently hurt someone, “Walsh, it will be all right. They can help us!”

  George frowned, “We can’t stay... Hmm, it might even be best if everyone left this place.”

  “NO!” the ogre shouted. “Stay! De––fend!”

  Thomi drew his arms tighter about his hulking friend’s arm, “It will be all right, Walsh!”

  Frowning, the ogre struggled to understand until he remembered that these were their friends. They did not jeopardize his purpose. But they did not understand his warning, either.

  “We cannot stay,” George replied ever so softly as the ogre continued to nod. George mentally reached out through his rapport with his staff and touched the ogre’s mind. Walsh’s thoughts seemed thick to George’s questing sensitivity. He received the faintest images of colony ships and countless stars. A man in spacer coveralls with the name Walsh stenciled upon them momentarily knelt before him. He was big and brawny with thick red hair. He had seen centuries pass between cryogen sleep cycles.

  There was a desperate look for understanding in the man’s eyes.

  Danger would come here. Raslinn had a purpose in being here beyond trapping the unwary in his twisted illusions.

  In that moment, Thomi’s eyes grew wide as he somehow tapped into George’s rapport and heard his hirsute friend’s thoughts. Walsh was not seeking for George and his companions to stay to defend Niota. That was the ogre’s duty. What he needed to do was warn, help them understand what he was about to do. There was power in this place – he would set it f
ree so that Niota could once more defend itself against the Dark One’s ilk. But there would be a price. Niota could not stand alone.

  Thomi shouted, “Walsh, we will defend this place together!”

  The ogre blinked as George gaped at the boy. The ogre realized that Thomi really did understand and was willing to pay the price. But did the boy truly understand what he was offering? “Bound – you – would – be. Belike – our – Curse... Price – no – easy – burden.”

  The boy took a deep breath. “Bound like you?”

  “Strong—er,” the ogre warned.

  “I’ll do it!”

  “No, Thomi!” his mother shouted as the odd assortment of refugees gathered around them in the courtyard.

  He turned to her. “Is it so great a price?”

  George looked from one to the other and opened his mouth to voice an objection. His eyes widened as the Summoning welled, barring him.

  Thomi’s mother nodded reluctantly, “Do what you must.”

  The boy nodded, “Walsh, I agree.”

  The ogre grinned and said, “Thomi – help.” He knelt and pounded his hands upon the ground, “Ni – O – Ta!” He began the Service and the boy hesitantly knelt and did the same. “Ni – O – Ta!” they chorused. Dirt flew upward as the ogre pounded harder and harder. Walsh spoke a word beyond human ken and the Summoning

  buffeted George, responding to the magery being raised.

  Fri’il was buckling her sword over her livery as she felt the floor tremble. Me’oh cried out her name, thrusting aside the door hanging. “Hurry! I’ll get Balfour!”

  Frayed tapestries shook and a cloud of dirt rained. Old dusty paintings quaked and began to fall as the black liveried young woman raced down the stairs. “He’s only out of my sight for what two minutes?” Fri’il shouted as she half raced, half stumbled down the stairs.

  Me’oh burst into the next room and grabbed up the suddenly roused Balfour. “Don’t tell me that Je’orj has got us into trouble this quickly?”

  “No bets!” Me’oh cried.

  Se’and had wiped away her tears and as soon as she felt presentable had come down the stairs and gone out into the courtyard. She saw Raven suddenly bristle, then felt the ground tremble. “Je’orj!” she cried, running toward him as the keep began to quake.

  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.

  The 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 standing 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!

  “ELVIN 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 THERE EVER BEEN HIS LIKE?”

  Fist 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!’