The Castrofax (35 page)

“Are you sure you do not wish to take refuge
in my rooms?” Balien asked again.

“No,” Gabriel said with a telling look. His
face was calm but his eyes were dark, his lips tight. Balien had
never seen the look on his friend, but he had seen something
similar in the eyes of the despairing.

“Pardon us for a moment,” Balien said to
Marya, hauling Gabriel by the arm into a quieter side room where
they kept root vegetables. Gabriel surprisingly did not fight back.
“Brother, what is happening?”

Gabriel looked away for a moment. “I found my
father.”

Balien’s heart leaped. Cordis had been the
father figure he lost when his own father died in battle. He was
devastated when the Mage vanished. “The rumors are true.
Where?”

Gabriel met his eyes. “
Here
, in the
dungeons. All this time.”

“How did you find him?”

“Nolen had him.”

Balien grabbed his own hair and turned away,
stomping a circle. “All this time,” he grunted and flung his arms
down. “Then what ails you?”

Gabriel leaned back on a basket of potatoes.
He looked pale in the faint light of the storeroom. “I made a vow I
am not prepared to go through with.”

Balien frowned. “What did Nolen ask of
you?”

Gabriel took his time in answering, giving
Balien fears for the worst. “My chastity.”

“There are worse things,” Balien offered.
Gabriel gave him a look that said his statement was not helpful.
“How bad can it be? Those beautiful women are willing come to your
bed. As much as you have suffered with your binds, this probably is
the least painful. Were I in your situation….”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “You dog. When did
you lose it?”

Balien winked. “Ah, you were not supposed to
guess that.” Gabriel kicked him in the shin and smirked like he
used to do when they were younger. “A year or so back to a fair
lady of the north. Her hair was like spun peaches and skin like
cream.”

Gabriel smirked a little and nodded. “There
are worse things.”

“I sound callous, I know, and we Anatolians
stay chaste until the marriage bed. But that is because we would
lie with every woman in sight after our first taste.”

Gabriel remained silent, but Balien knew
there was more to say. “I’m bastard born, you know this, so what
would I have to offer your sister if I came to her sullied?”

“Oh,” Balien replied in one long breath. “I
see now.” He didn’t entirely. “I did not realize you two were so
close.”

“We were getting there before Nolen pulled us
apart.”

Balien smiled in spite of the dark mood. “My
own foster brother as a by-law brother! That would be grand. I
would have someone proper to hunt with at last, and someone to keep
Nolen in line.”

Gabriel gave a weak smile. “Not with these,”
he said and shook a wrist. “I don’t know if she would have me if I
could not protect her.”

‘
So there is the real root of your
insecurities,’
Balien thought. “Only if she is stupid. Is she
stupid?”

Gabriel gave a little shake of his head.

“Then you will have no problems. And, if she
loves you, she will accept you sullied or not.”

“I need you to concoct me some tinctures.
Something to make the Arconians fall asleep.”

“I can do better than that. I can find you
some herbs that will lower your testosterone and help with
impotence. You will have to buy me a day or two. Most herb shops do
not carry such things, but start drinking spearmint by the
barrel.”

“Nolen is sending someone tonight.”

Balien mentally searched his inventory. “I
will make up a sleeping tincture, and I will send you up some
strong corn liquor. Inebriation will prevent intercourse if you get
drunk enough.”

“That’s something I don’t mind doing,”
Gabriel said in a truthful tone.

“I will do all I can,” Balien vowed,
searching his mind for solutions. There were many outlets provided
by herbs, but there were always other solutions. He swallowed. “I
will get started.”

Nolen slipped the copper control piece over
his digits and felt a sudden rush of power flow through him. It was
as intoxicating as a beautiful woman but more pleasurable.

It angered him to no end. Without the control
piece he felt worthless, his power so far from comparable, and he
found himself wearing it at all hours just to feel the throb of
energies. The further he walked from the Mage, the lesser the power
felt. He hated the Mage for his power, but being close to him was
as intoxicating as the power itself.

The new power would make his ascension to the
throne easy. He had been practicing the patterns from the book
Ryker gave him.
‘If the Mage’s power could kill most of my Air
Guard in less than an hour, imagine what I could do in a
lifetime.’

Maps were spread out on his drawing table,
the edges tacked down with candlesticks. The town of Veir was so
small that most maps left it off, but he found a newer map with the
little hamlet. It would be a several day journey by horse unless he
convinced the Air Arconian to accompany them. After that morning,
however, he doubted she would comply willingly. No matter. He had
Class Ten power, and she had but Six.

As he studied the maps for any indication of
the reported manor, he heard a faint bootfall to his right. He
looked up, and Ryker Slade stood by the warm hearth, dressed in a
long dark gray coat, and his trousers stuffed into his boots. The
sudden appearances of the man were growing less frightening, but he
still made Nolen’s heart catch in his throat.

“You honor me with your presence,” Nolen said
and stood. “I have made progress.”

Ryker’s face was dark against the red light
of the fire. “As have I. Y’ first.”

“My sister is in a manor outside this little
town,” Nolen reported and pointed to the map. “She will tell me
where I can find your Silex once I free her.”

Ryker clicked his cheek and nodded
thoughtfully. “I should like t’ take y’ back to mine manor, as y’
have earned the right. If y’ succeed, my home will be yours t’
share, so y’ best come see what y’ are missing.”

Victory swelled in Nolen’s chest. “I would
go.”

Ryker put his hand on Nolen’s shoulder. His
eyes and hair turned white as his free hand spun the black pattern
together. They shot into the black and white world and traveled for
a few minutes before stopping in a manor.

The great room was bright, illuminated by
four massive windows that looked out onto snowcapped mountains. Two
hearths stood on either end of the room, surrounded by chairs and
couches, and in the center was a long table where a decanter of
wine sat on a silver tray. The dark wood of the floor was rich and
polished to a shine, and the walls adorned with fortune in
tapestries and paintings. Narrow tables sat along the walls with
relics atop them: weapons, vases, models, a stuffed bird, books,
and pieces of finery. The room smelled old, like a well-loved
library, and the architecture was far different than the Fourth or
Fifth Age.

“When did you come by this place?” Nolen
asked as he stepped up to the window. From the view he could see
two wings of the building curve around.

“Back in the Third Age,” he replied and
poured two ivory goblets of wine. “She’s supported by the same
patterns what hold up Jaden, so she doesn’t crumble with the
years.”

“How have you not been located?” Nolen took
the goblet. The vintage was strange and far dryer than a Dastanian
red.

“Illusion-pattern,” Ryker smirked. “Hides the
manor from any prying eyes, but no one comes this high into the
Greynadaltynes.”

“We just call them the Gray Mountains
now.”

The air was dryer and colder here, and Nolen
felt the chill through the windows. He longed for the fire but
would not show his weakness. The control piece on his fingers gave
him no feel for the Mage who was so far east, and he slipped it off
in his pocket.

“Y’ impress me with your gumption,” Ryker
stated, his thick accent becoming easier to understand. “Y’ have a
right t’ this manor, as much as mine Arch Mages did. This was their
home—bar Maxine who took up her own ne far from here. When will y’
head out par your sibling?”

Nolen took a swallow of the dry wine and
wished it was warm. “I still have not broken the Class Ten. I was
hoping for another few days before we sidestep there.”

He expected Ryker to be reproachful, but the
man nodded and took a swig of his wine. “I found something out what
might help y’.” He motioned to a set of plush chairs by the fire,
and Nolen happily took the one closest to the heat. “Your Mage’s
Class was kept a secret because he was protecting someone.”

“Yes, he claimed it was a merchant’s
daughter.”

“Ne quite. She was the girl y’ found him
with, aye?” Nolen nodded. “Will y’ kick y’self t’ know was the
Princess Robyn Bolt, your cousin?”

Nolen’s lungs froze.
‘She was there all
along, and I never saw it.’
He smoothed a hand back over his
curly hair. “I hardly knew her as a child. I did not recognize
her.”

“What will y’ do now?”

Nolen smiled. “You said to kill everyone the
Mage loves.”

“Y’ listened.” Ryker crossed an ankle over
his knee. “Then y’ will find mine Silex.”

Nolen sat back and affirmed with a sharp nod.
“When did you make the Silex?”

“Me?” Ryker chuckled. “I did ne such thing.
It was made back in the Uncharted Ages.”

Nolen looked at him stupidly. “I am not sure
I know of those.”

“Did y’ think we just appeared ac started
counting the Ages? Ack, boy, your Age is a stupid one. There are
five Ages we have written down t’ memory, but there were many Ages
before what never were chronicled. Some quod there were five to
eight Uncharted Ages, but there is ne way t’ know.” He wet his
tongue with wine and clicked his cheek. “Madison Library of Jaden
has books on this, why were y’ ne taught?”

Nolen shrugged.

“Nay, the Silex was made by six Class Tens
back in the Uncharted Ages in the kingdom what is now called
Aidenmar. Their names were lost as well, but some say the
descendants still live. Y’ ever noticed how Aidenmarian men go gray
early?” he asked and Nolen nodded. It was common for an Aidenmarian
in his mid-twenties to gray. “It is believed the creators of the
Silex went gray after it was finished ac have since passed that
trait down through the Ages.”

“But Mage and non-Mage go gray. Can it be
they bred the Elements out?”

“Aye,” Ryker nodded. “Much as this Age is
doing.”

Something occurred to Nolen, and he fixed
Ryker with a curious look. “Which Age do you come from?” Nolen
asked.

Ryker smiled slowly, as if he had been
waiting for the question a while. “That, Princeling, is a story par
another day.”

Nolen sat there feeling foolish but dared not
ask again. There was so much he did not know of his own history
that this man could illuminate. “Were the Arch Mages as dangerous
as the legends say?”

Ryker put a brow up. “What do they say?”

“Horrible things like—”

“They speak the truth then,” Ryker replied
and sipped his wine. “Class Tens, the four of them, brilliant ac
dangerous ac cruel, right after mine own heart.”

“Was Maxine Flint really the prettiest woman
ever created?”

“Is that all the stories talk about?” Ryker
laughed. “Aye, boy, aye, she was the loveliest ac most dangerous
beauty ever set foot on this soil. She used t’ keep fair men like
y’ as pets in her mansion.”

“What of the others? Pike Bronwen and
Evony?”

“Pike was the smart one—mine greatest Earth
defender—a Creator as well. People say the Castrofax were mine
creation, but we concocted them together. He even knew how t’ bend
metal t’ his will, which is a right hard thing t’ do par any Earth
Mage.

“Dorian Lark was mine destroyer. He could
walk through a town ac leave it flattened in minutes. Right
powerful in Air ac Fire ac Earth. He did what I told him ac did it
right well.” Ryker paused and looked up. “Let me show y’ them.”

He stood and Nolen swallowed, following Ryker
through the narrow dark-wood hallways and into an atrium where a
dozen paintings and tapestries hung.

He pointed to a life-sized painting of a
beautiful woman with cork-screw white-blonde hair and cold blue
eyes. She had little pert lips and a heart-shaped face with a
pointed chin. Her gaze was hot and her lips cracked in a welcome.
The dress she wore was dark red and cut off the shoulders, synched
around her ample bosom that pressed up, and around her neck was a
gold necklace with tiny colored beads.

“Maxine Flint, the woman what seduced a
thousand men.”

Nolen coughed. “A thousand? Legends say it
was more like a hundred.”

Ryker guffawed. “Nay. She was insatiable. It
was more like a thousand.”

They turned to a handsome man with dark brown
hair slicked back. The dark eyes hid under a heavy brow, and a full
goatee surrounded thin lips. He looked regal in a handsome green
coat with a high collar that revealed a golden torc encircled
around his neck, a common Aidenmarian piece for Mages and royals.
Clenched in his hand was a black Castrofax made in a wavering
circlet. “Pike Bronwen, the man what made the most feared items in
Mage histories.”

“They have all been lost.”

“Nay, naught all them. Jaden has some
Castrofax ac a few other relics. I’m sure of it.”

Across the atrium stood another painting of a
pretty man with a chiseled face and dark deep-set green eyes. His
blond hair brushed his collar, and parted left to frame his eyes.
The painting was full-size and stood as tall as Nolen. His boot
crushed a human skull.

“Dorian,” Nolen stated. “Green and blond are
a strange combination.”