“Of course,” he said, though still sounding a touch awkward. “I was just wondering if Lord Kytain knew.”
“Knew what?”
“How powerful you really are. I have never heard of such a thing. What I saw you do back there...it seems…impossible.”
Martok drew a breath before replying. “I can't say for certain one way or the other. But now that I think about it, I would say yes, he did know. Or at least suspected. My connection to the dragons has been a mystery to me until now. But I think Kytain realized that there was more to it than I was aware of.”
Vernon nodded. “Yes. He was wise. If only…” His voice trailed off.
Martok knew what he was about to say. He'd been thinking the same thing himself. If only he had learned of his true power sooner, he could have used it to save both Kytain and his father. But there was no use tormenting himself over the matter. In his heart he knew that this was the way it had to be. There was never any great reward without a steep price attached.
But whether this was a price that he would have paid willingly remained unclear.
Martok spent only two days at the Prustoni Estate before heading home. As Vernon had said, the house was indeed in disarray. But this was as much to do with the staff's sorrow over Kytain’s murder as anything else. Once he'd assured them that he would make certain their former master's wishes were carried out properly, a sense of order was quickly restored. After some persuasion, Vernon reluctantly accepted the responsibility of being in charge of the day-to-day affairs, allowing for Martok to take his leave.
Upon reaching Dragonvein Manor, he instructed most of his staff to go to his second home near the foot of the Gol’ Shupa Mountains. He knew that this business was far from over. Once the other great houses learned of the Bronstar’s fate, they would surely align themselves against him. Only a handful of servants were allowed to remain at the manor. Gretchen was among them, though he had done his best to convince her to leave with the others.
“I have no reason to flee,” she told him. “You will overcome and arise victorious. That much is not in question.”
Martok asked what it was she had promised to give to him upon his return, but she simply smiled and said that he needed to stay focused for the present. Distractions such as she had in mind could wait.
In spite of the precautions, the weeks turned to months and still there was no sign of hostility from any quarter. After receiving several messages from Vernon stating that no one out of the ordinary had so much as approached the grounds at Prustoni Manor, Martok became increasingly troubled. Calm such as this was unnatural. He could only see it as a sign that the other houses were busy gathering all of their strengths together in order to mount one truly massive assault. And that was the worst possible scenario. Even with the aid of the dragons, there was a finite number of enemies he could battle at one time. Regardless, he swore an oath to take as many with him as possible when the time came.
As the first light snow falls began to herald the coming winter, a messenger arrived bearing a letter. It stated that Lord Windsor Farial was at present camped just beyond the borders of Dragonvein lands and that he requested an audience. He would remain there until receiving a response. Suspicious of trickery, Martok deliberated on this for several hours before sending a reply agreeing to meet.
He chose to receive the mage in his father’s study rather than in the more conventional setting of the main hall. It was yet another tactic learned from Kytain. Always try to make a potential adversary feel uncomfortable in subtle ways, he'd advised. A throne and such paraphernalia may give an impression of strength, but a casual setting usually lulls them into believing you are not mindful or cautious. That, or they will think you have a very good reason to be at ease and become distracted wondering why. Either way, it was a very good method of keeping them off balance.
The Farial family was nearly as ancient as his own. Though lacking the huge wealth of the Prustoni’s, they had nonetheless maintained a high status and were respected amongst all the other houses. Windsor had most likely been chosen to deliver terms for surrender, Martok considered. A waste of time. But seeing as there were no better options, he would hear the man out. Perhaps he would inadvertently give up crucial information which could aid him in battle.
His guest arrived two days later. Martok was reading yet another book on magic at the time. He'd been in almost constant study since returning home, and thought he was now actually within touching distance of learning how to make wards which could possibly outlive their creator. Even so, there was still so much more he didn’t yet grasp. He could only hope that fate would allow him the time to unearth answers to the deepest mysteries of magic: the unfathomable conundrums that had remained elusive to even the most powerful mages throughout the ages. He was sure he could discover them…if only he was allowed the time.
Windsor was clad in thick furs and wool clothing. Being from the southern region, the cold weather was clearly not to his liking. That aside, Martok knew him to be a man of plain speech and direct action. It was common knowledge that his wife was the
real
diplomat of the family. She was cunning and intelligent, not to mention a truly gifted mage. Martok was actually surprised that it was her husband, and not she, who had been sent on this mission.
After handing his coat to the accompanying servant, he bowed cordially. His thick black hair was peppered with grey, though not as much as one might expect for a man of more than one hundred years. His eyes were a bit too widely spaced for his thin face, giving him a rather odd appearance.
Martok rose from his chair beside the hearth and bowed in return. “Welcome, Lord Farial. Please take a seat by the fire.” Crossing over to a cabinet, he poured them both a glass of brandy.
“Thank you, Lord Dragonvein,” he said, gratefully accepting the glass and occupying the seat closest to the comforting warmth of the hearth. He waited until Martok had settled down as well before adding: “I do not see how you can possibly live in such a frigid place.”
“You grow accustomed to the winters,” he responded with a polite smile.
“I doubt
I
ever could. It chills me to the bone every time I come this far north.” Taking a sip of brandy, he allowed an appreciative sigh to slip out. “That’s much better. Thank you.”
Martok took a small sip himself and then sat the glass carefully on the table beside him. “So what brings you to my door?”
Windsor took one more drink before responding. “Let us be honest with each other. I think you must know very well why I am here. I have seen what remains of the Bronstar’s home. As have many others. The earth still boils with a foul tar that none have the power to cool. I am forced to ask you: Was their offence so great as to warrant this complete annihilation?”
The man was certainly living up to his plain speaking reputation. Martok decided to respond in the same vein. “It was,” he replied flatly. “They sought my destruction, murdered both my father and Kytain Prustoni, and hoped to use this treachery to attain absolute dominion over all of Lumnia. What you saw was a mercy. For the foulness of their crimes, I should have killed them far more slowly and let their screams sing me to sleep each night.”
Windsor stiffened and sat down his glass. “I see. In that case, I am left with only one responsible course of action.” He paused before making his declaration. “Let me be the first to offer my allegiance to the House Dragonvein. Let it be known that House Farial stands solidly with you against any who would seek to do you harm.”
Martok was stunned. For a moment he thought he must have misunderstood what Windsor had said. Despite being well-practiced in maintaining a neutral expression while in negotiations and important meetings, there was no concealing his surprise on this occasion.
“I can see this was not the reason you thought I have come,” Windsor continued. “And I imagine if I were in your position, I would be suspecting a deception. But I can assure you that my offer is perfectly genuine.”
Martok quickly recovered his poise. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You are willing to stand with me when I face the other mage houses in a battle that I will almost certainly lose - that I will have your total support even as we are slaughtered. Is that the way of things, or have I missed something?”
Windsor laughed heartily. “Is that what you think is happening right now? That the houses are planning an attack? My boy, you could not be more wrong. You have them so afraid that it took all this time just for them to send me here. No one has the courage to so much as cross your borders, let alone mount an attack.”
Martok looked into his eyes and knew that he was telling the truth. This was astonishing news. He paused for a short time to let it sink in. They were afraid; all of them. In one fell swoop, he had cowed every mage house in Lumnia. But what to do next? How could he use this situation without overextending his reach? The fact remained that, should they find their courage, they could still defeat him. He looked to his guest, who was now sipping his brandy with a slight grin on his face.
“If I may speak freely?” Windsor said.
“Of course.”
“This must all be a bit overwhelming for you. Quite naturally, you assumed that by destroying the Bronstar family, the other mage houses would align against you. After all, the Bronstar’s were a wealthy and highly influential family. But their influence and power came at a price. And now that they are no more, there is no one left to pay.”
He drained the last drop from his glass before continuing. “It is of course well-known that Evelyn Bronstar was a cold, calculating bitch. Very few dared to cross her. However, loyalty is not gained through fear and intimidation, and those were the tools of her trade.” He paused and nodded toward the cabinet where the brandy was kept. “May I?”
Martok moved to rise, but Windsor stood first and filled both glasses before returning.
“This warms the soul,” he said, sinking back into his chair. “Please forgive me for my forwardness. The fact is, my wife rarely allows me to indulge in strong drink while away from home. Not since I got drunk at Lord Malisto’s hunting lodge and tried to bed one of his servants, mistakenly believing that she was my own dear good lady.”
Martok let out a short laugh. “You can drink as much as you like under my roof. But I’m afraid that most of the servants here are either too old or far too young.” He stopped short of mentioning that he had sent most of them away.
Windsor took an extra-large swallow and smacked his lips. “They needn’t worry. I’m way too old for that sort of thing now. Besides, I wouldn’t wish to face my wife when she’s that angry ever again.” He sat the glass down. “Where were we? Ah, yes. The mage houses. When they saw what you had done to the Bronstar’s, it terrified them beyond reason. And I must admit, when I saw the bubbling pit you left behind, I was frightened as well. To be so powerful at eighteen years old is…well, it’s astounding. I recognized the spell you used. As did the others. The sheer scale of it far outreached the abilities of any known mage. So they had to decide: should they dare take a chance by attacking you or not?”
He finished off his second glass. This time, before he could ask, Martok was up and pouring him another. “And what was your opinion on this?”
He gave Martok a nod of thanks. “Me? I’m not one for fighting. Never have been. As for the others, none of them were prepared to take the risk. We both know that with enough mages, even
you
are vulnerable. But the question they were forced to ask was: who among them was willing to lead the way and die? Because anyone with power such as yours would certainly kill many foes before being defeated. In the end, they all agreed it was far better to make an ally of you rather than an enemy.”
“Self-interest governs all,” Martok mused in a half whisper.
“Indeed it does,” agreed Windsor. “So what will you do now that you understand the situation?”
Martok took a full minute to ponder the question. This was unexpected. Though after hearing what Windsor had said, it should not really have come as any great surprise. Kytain would surely have read things far better. At that moment, he missed his mentor very much.
At last his mind was made up. “Send word that all those who wish peace should come to my house at their earliest convenience,” he began. “You, my Lord Farial, can remain here as my guest. Though naturally, you are free to leave at any time you choose.”
Windsor gazed into his glass and swirled the liquid around. “I would be very pleased to stay. But you will not need to wait long for the others. Most of the great houses are waiting just beyond your borders. Those who are not are either too frightened, or simply have yet to arrive.”
“Then if you would, please send word also to those who do not choose to come. Tell them that any house who desires peace has nothing to fear from the Dragonvein family.”
“It will be my pleasure to do so.”
After once again draining his glass, Windsor attempted to rise from the chair. The brandy was clearly taking its toll, and he was forced to grab firmly onto the arm in order to steady himself. Martok quickly got up to offer support.
“I’m afraid I might have had one too many,” Windsor admitted with an embarrassed smile. “It’s just that my wife…did I already tell you about that?”
“My Lord, while you are here, you may have as much brandy as you desire,” Martok told him while helping the man to the study door.
Once there, he handed Windsor over to a burly servant and instructed: “Provide Lord Farial with a room and see that it is well stocked with brandy.”
“I…I should send the mes…messages,” he insisted between a sudden bout of the hiccups.
“It can wait until morning.”
As if acknowledging the remark of a genius, Windsor's mouth dropped open. He pressed a finger to the side of his nose and winked. “A brilliant idea.”
Martok waited until his inebriated guest and the accompanying servant were well on their way before returning to his chair by the fire. A tiny smile formed as he stared into the flames and recalled the words his father had spoken to him on the day he'd left for the Dragon Haven.
Life is a journey of perpetual mystery and surprises
.
The moment you think you know what will happen next, fate intervenes and makes you feel like a babe taking its first steps
.
But as you will discover, Martok, that is ultimately what makes life worth living
.