Thinblade (55 page)

“If you truly are the King, then I welcome you home.” The Regent spoke with the confidence of long practice at command. “However, I must have unequivocal proof before I will accede to your authority. You are marked as the legend says you would be, and you have the word of the Forest Warden to support your claim. These are sufficient cause to welcome you into the palace as an honored guest but I see that your sword is not the Thinblade. The legend is clear. The one who will remake the line of Ruatha will wield the Thinblade.”

“Master Colton told me you were a cautious man,” Alexander said. “Given my recent experiences, I’m coming to respect caution more and more. We’ve been hunted by agents of Prince Phane. The journey has been long and hard. Your offer of hospitality is most welcome but I must warn you, our enemies are close on our heels and quite determined. Once they realize that we’re here, they will find a way to attack.”

“I see.” The Regent took a thoughtful breath and nodded to himself before turning to his advisors. “General Markos, secure the palace. Assign an honor guard to our guest and his companions. Handpick your best and most trustworthy men. Minister Savio, see to the preparation of the guest suite in the north wing. Coordinate with the general to ensure the entire wing is secure.”

Both men nodded, then bowed to Alexander before turning and leaving the room.

“Perhaps we should adjourn to a nearby meeting chamber,” Regent Cery suggested. “Your rooms will be a few minutes before they’re ready and I would be interested to hear any news you might bring.”

“Thank you, Regent,” Alexander said as he stood.

His new sight was still alive in the back of his mind. He could still see all around in his mind’s eye while seeing through his normal vision at the same time. It was a sensation that was going to take some getting used to. Isabel and Abigail stood with him.

Jack cleared his throat to draw the Regent’s attention. “Regent Cery, I would like to introduce Lady Isabel Alaric, Lord Alexander’s betrothed; Lady Abigail Ruatha, Lord Alexander’s sister; and Master Anatoly Grace, Lord Alexander’s champion.” Anatoly gave Jack a smirk at the title of champion but the Regent bowed respectfully to each in turn.

“You are all most welcome. If you have need of anything, please do not hesitate to ask. Our staff pride themselves on impeccable service and attention to our guests.”

Before he could continue, there was a commotion from the door just before a large group entered the chamber. The man in the lead could only be the Guild Mage. Lucky was at his right, with another wizard at his left. Behind them by only a few paces were a dozen bards led by a broadly smiling Owen.

Mage Kelvin Gamaliel stood a good six and a half feet tall and easily weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. He was barrel-chested and heavily muscled with swarthy skin, large powerful hands, and coarse, closely cropped black hair with a touch of grey starting to show. He wore finely crafted black plate armor that showed just a hint of red when the light was right and carried the biggest war hammer Alexander had ever seen. The man to his left was the quintessential-looking wizard, dressed in ordinary grey robes and walking with a finely made oak staff shod in silver. Lucky smiled broadly as he entered with the Mage.

Owen was dressed in the same simple earth tones that he always wore. His troupe of bards all dressed a little differently and each was distinct. Some wore finery as if it was their normal attire, while others dressed more simply. Some carried instruments, while others didn’t. All of them looked intelligent and inquisitive as they looked around at the details of the throne room, no doubt cataloging everything they saw so they could enrich their stories and songs with intimate detail.

Regent Cery looked resigned at the new arrivals, yet not in the least surprised. The King’s Bell had not rung in many centuries. Everyone in New Ruatha would have heard it and would want to know what it meant.

The Guild Mage fixed Alexander with his piercing grey eyes. Alexander could feel the scrutiny as the wizard evaluated him. He didn’t waver. He stood his ground and met the Mage with his own gold-flecked golden-brown eyes. The Mage’s colors radiated power in a way that Alexander had only seen once before: the man in black. He was now certain that the enemy pursuing him was a mage as well. That knowledge answered one question and replaced it with a more definite threat.

The biggest difference Alexander saw when he looked at Mage Gamaliel was the confluence of different auras. His armor gave off an aura all its own, much less complicated and dynamic than a living aura, but visible nonetheless. His giant war hammer also radiated a clear reddish color. Then there were a number of other items that produced colors all their own. Alexander remembered Lucky telling him that Kelvin Gamaliel was an enchanter. He was a master craftsman who could imbue items with magic. Each item of power he possessed revealed itself to Alexander in the colors it produced. Alexander filed that piece of information away for later use.

A quick survey of the rest of the approaching visitors revealed only the other wizard’s staff to be magical in nature. It glowed brightly with a clear soft-blue aura.

Mage Gamaliel took his eyes off Alexander just long enough to nod to Regent Cery. “Good evening, Regent,” he said.

Cery smiled politely to the Guild Mage and nodded slightly when the Mage passed and came to the foot of the dais.

He stopped and looked at Alexander very deliberately. Alexander could see the aura of the amulet he wore pulse while the Mage scrutinized him. The room had fallen silent. The tension returned to Anatoly who was equal to the Mage in size but not in power.

“Tell me, Mage Gamaliel, what do you see?” Alexander decided to be bold. Audacity had served him well today.

Realization flickered across the Mage’s face ever so slightly. “I would not answer such a question in public.” He was not angry or disrespectful but simply matter-of-fact. “May I look more closely at the mark on your neck?” he asked.

Alexander nodded and pulled his cloak collar down to reveal the scar burned into his flesh on the night this ordeal had begun.

Mage Gamaliel strode up to the fourth stair of the dais and leaned over to look at Alexander’s neck. “May I?” he asked, quietly requesting permission to touch the mark.

Alexander nodded.

The Mage whispered words in an old and arcane language that Alexander had never heard spoken before, while he placed two fingers on the mark and closed his eyes. A long moment passed. The Mage’s eyes snapped open and he looked Alexander in the eye for just a moment before nodding once slightly and turning to face the crowd.

“He bears the mark of Mage Cedric. The stories of legend are coming to pass.”

The room fell silent at his pronouncement. Alexander looked out over the crowd of expectant people. He felt the burden of his duty weigh even heavier under the eyes of so many whose futures depended on his success. It looked to him like they were expecting him to speak but he didn’t know what to say. He decided to suggest that they move to a council room, when he caught movement out of the corner of his mind’s eye.

It was an odd sensation to see that which he could not have seen. To be aware of things beyond his senses felt unnatural. There was a man on the balcony above and he had a crossbow. He was moving in a crouch and was almost to the low stone wall that served as a railing. From there he would be in position to take his shot.

Chapter 46

Almost in the same instant, Alexander slipped beneath the firmament and saw the play of time in the coming seconds. His awareness floated beneath the surface of the infinite ocean of possibility and watched the firmament unfold into the future. He saw the crossbowman fire, saw the bolt strike him in the chest, and watched himself die. He wound time back in his mind’s eye and stepped out of the way. The bolt killed Abigail instead. He wound it back again and saw how time played out in each possible branch of the immediate future. Then he found the only course that would win the day. With a jolt, his awareness returned to the present.

He caught the Mage by surprise or his plan would never have worked. With his left hand he shoved the Mage hard toward his sister. Mage Gamaliel tried to catch his step, but he tripped on the top stair of the dais and fell forward into Abigail, sprawling on top of her. Alexander pulled a knife from the back of his belt and leapt for the floor at the base of the dais. The crossbow bolt missed him by inches and hit hard against the back plate of Mage Gamaliel’s enchanted armor. The glass tip of the bolt shattered, releasing a pungent-smelling liquid that did little more than leave a spot on the Mage’s reddish-black plate armor.

Everything became clear and simple to Alexander in that moment. He was in a fight and he had a blade in his hand. His focus narrowed down. Everything else in the world fell away. There was only the enemy and the blade. Alexander knew the perfect clarity of a singular purpose.

Sailing through the air, he hurled his knife at the enemy only he could see in the darkness of the balcony above. The blade struck home and the enemy fell backward before Alexander hit the ground. A moment later the crossbow crashed onto one of the chairs lining the wall and clattered to the floor.

The Mage was up quickly, hammer held high and scanning the room with his penetrating vision. Alexander could see the magic of the amulet concealed beneath his armor glowing brightly. The wizard with the staff spoke a word, and a ball of bright bluish-white light streaked from the tip of his staff to the arched ceiling, where it stopped and hovered, brightly illuminating the entire room.

One of the soldiers picked up the fallen crossbow. He looked at it closely for only a moment before turning to the Regent. “Palace issue,” he said.

The Regent took a quick breath. He turned to the commander of the guard detail. “Secure the balconies and summon a platoon at once.” The commander snapped orders to his subordinates and men started moving.

The Mage was apparently satisfied that the threat was past. He lowered his hammer and held out his hand for Abigail who was still flat on her back and somewhat shaken at having the huge Mage fall on top of her.

“Are you hurt?” Despite his size he spoke gently.

She rubbed her shoulder and winced while she regained her feet. “Nothing that won’t mend.” She hadn’t seen the crossbow or the enemy above and she was mad at being knocked to the floor. “You’d better have a good explanation, Big Brother,” she turned her ire on Alexander.

Before Alexander could defend himself, Mage Gamaliel answered for him. “He does. There was an assassin in the balcony.” He pointed to the position the enemy had fired from and then cast about and found the crossbow bolt on the floor. He picked it up, showing Abigail the blunt wooden tip with the remnants of glass affixed to it. “Glass-tipped and filled with poison. You can probably smell it on my armor. In reality, your brother saved your life. By some means that I do not yet understand,” he gave Alexander a meaningful look, “Lord Alexander saw the enemy coming. Clearly, he could have simply evaded the attack, but in doing so, the trajectory of the bolt would have carried it into you, so he pushed me into the path, assuming that my armor would protect me.” He looked at Alexander again. “Fortunately, his assumptions were correct.”

Alexander was astonished. The Mage was observant at a level of detail that Alexander couldn’t quite understand and his power of reason was quick and spot on. He understood immediately why Lucky held this man in such high regard.

“Have I missed anything, Lord Alexander?” he asked.

“No. Your account of the attack is correct in every detail, save one. I made no assumptions. I knew with certainty that your armor would hold. I would have found another way had I believed otherwise.”

“Later, I would like you to explain how you knew these things.” The Mage turned to Regent Cery, who was standing stone still and clearly angry at the breach of security in his palace. “Regent, may we find a more secure location?” he asked gently.

They made their way to a large room with only one door and no windows. The lamps were already lit and platters of breads, cold meat and cheeses with a variety of sauces were already on the table. Clearly the serving staff was quick and efficient.

Alexander took the chair at the head of the table to reinforce his claim to the throne. He knew the Regent would have normally sat there but Alexander wasn’t about to show any sign of weakness. He needed this too much. Once everyone was seated at the table, with a few bards sitting in chairs along the walls, Alexander began.

“Regent Cery, Mage Gamaliel, war is coming. Prince Phane is on the march and he intends to consume the whole of the Seven Isles. If he succeeds, the world will fall into darkness and there will be suffering on an unimaginable scale. I have witnessed firsthand the netherworld beasts that are allied with Phane and I know from personal experience that he is without conscience. Life is a toy to him to be trifled with. I’ve come here to claim the throne of New Ruatha and to unite the Isle of Ruatha under my rule so that I can build an army capable of withstanding the forces Phane will bring to bear against those who love life and freedom.”

Alexander had a hundred questions he wanted to ask the Mage but now was not the time. He had too big an audience. Now was the time for broad strokes and sweeping rhetoric.