Felling Kingdoms (Book 5) (6 page)

Chapter 8

Virgil paced his room grinding his jaw, freshly washed, shaven and dressed in shades of red and gray. Two rings sat in the palm of his clammy hands, one silver, the other black. Virgil’s trunk was already packed, ready to move into Kilkiny. In it laid the most feared weapon known to Mage kind: the glass Castrofax.

His stomach lurched. He would be damming the man to a lifetime of paralysis, a fate most people would rank worse than death.

He took in a deep breath and straightened his coat, slipping the silver ring on his little finger. Robyn’s room was just up the stairs on the other side of the tower, and he devoured the space in record time. His adrenaline spurred him on.
‘I would rather be in battle.’
Battles were easier. He knew what to do in those.

He rapped on her door and a maid answered. Robyn emerged a minute later dressed in a slender Arconian gown of flowing green satin that hugged her figure beautifully. While Anatolian dresses were magnificent, they were bulky and hid the figure from imagination.

“Would you walk with me a while?” he asked and offered his arm. She took it with a smile. “Have you recovered from your long night?”

“I have. How are your wounds?”

“I had a physician look at the hip. You did a wonderful job, and he says if you ever grow tired of running a kingdom, you can work for him.” He took her up a flight of stairs slowly, leading her down a quiet, unused hall where a small sitting room resided. The room was dark and undisturbed. He closed the door behind him, sliding the lock closed while clearing his throat to muffle the sound.

She went to the window and pushed the curtains open, throwing up a faint cloud of dust. “What a marvelous view,” she breathed.

Virgil stepped beside her, leaning on the wall to look only at her. “It is.”

She blushed.

“Robyn, I think you know how I feel about you,” he began, never skilled with words. “I would do anything to call you mine. I have to know, once and for all, is there a chance I could be yours?”

She lowered her eyes, and he had his answer.

He cut in before she could reply and extended his palm to her. The black ring sat glistening in the sunlight. “Would you wear this as a token of our friendship then?”

She gave him a grateful smile and took it up. “I will happily accept it.”

But she did not put it on.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “I think it would fit your index finger.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “I cannot wear another man’s token, Virgil, but I will think of you always when I see it.”

‘That is not acceptable.’
“Go on,” he urged. “Let us see what it looks like.”

She looked embarrassed. “No, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Robyn,” he said commandingly in his officer voice. “Put it on.”

“Virgil,” she said reproachfully. “I…” she reached for her summoning ring.

He flung himself at her, taking her to the floor. She landed hard with a scream that cut off as her head hit the floor. The black ring bounced from her hand and skittered across the floor.

“Get off,” she gasped, dazed. “Get off me.” She lashed out, her palm striking the side of his bruised head. He scrambled for her hands and gripped both her slender wrists in his large palm. He held it above her head as he reached for the black ring. “Virgil!” She screamed.

He clamped a hand over her mouth, knowing what he had to do but regretting it already. There was no going back from here. He took her fair head in his hand and smashed it into the floor.

She fell silent with a grunt, dazed but not unconscious. He braced the rest of his body over hers in a wide-leg spread. She was so petite, there was no way she could push him off. He stretched out and secured the ring.

“Get off,” she choked, her eyes focused elsewhere. He was likely suffocating her.

He raised up and knelt over her chest, bringing her bound hands to his lap. He selected the left middle finger where another ring already rested. It would blend in, and no one would notice.

“Don’t,” she said with surprising clarity. “What do you want?” Her fingers curled in, but he held the middle fast. “Money, land, pardons?”

“You,” he breathed. “I have always wanted you.”

“Gabriel will…”

“I will take care of him. I have a Castrofax.”

She screamed a terrified “
NO!
” and tried to pull back, but he slid the ring on smoothly as butter.

“Stop, ” he commanded calmly.

She immediately became silent, her face blank, and her body relaxed into the floor. “I am truly sorry I had to do this, but I had no other way to you.” He lifted himself off and extended a hand to her. She accepted it and stood silently, staring at him blankly.

“You will act normally at all times, you will do everything I tell you, and you will answer to no one but me. You will make no attempts to contact anyone to dispel the ruse, and you will do everything in your power to prevent the Head Mage from suspecting anything. Am I understood?”

“Of course,” she replied calmly.

He smiled. “It bloody works. Do not take that ring off and prevent anyone from trying. I will be returning to Anatoly with you. You will make a public announcement shortly after that we are to be married to strengthen the peace treaty and our kingdoms. Also, you will make no attempts on my life or enlist anyone to do so.”

“Of course.”

“Do you have anything to say?”

“If you touch me…”

“Oh, Robyn,” he stepped up close and smoothed back her hair. “You have no idea what I can do for you. Now, how about a kiss to seal our betrothal? And make it worth it.”

She looked so compliant, he believed her delight genuine as she closed the gap and stretched up to kiss him. He pulled her close with one hand around her back and put the other around her jaw. She kissed him fiercely and with obvious practice. The moment he had been waiting for since he first saw her was finally fulfilled, and it was worth the wait.

Chapter 9

Classing was going smoothly as could be expected despite the Gaelsin’s insistence on whipping Gabriel’s hair about, ignorant to the range of his Element as he manipulated it. Gabriel let it go unchecked, and in no time the torrent of air subsided as the bald man pulled his patterns closer to him. Gabriel flicked his hair back where it should be, snickering at Mikelle who was glaring intensely. Her hair was destroyed.

A summons suddenly pinged in his chest. He had many summoning-patterns linked to numerous rings scattered through the lands, and each bore a different feel. He did not recognize this one and ran through his inventory of summons. It was Lace. The tingling sensation faded slowly, but suddenly spiked again.

He directed his attention back to the Gaelsin and wondered if it would be appropriate to cut the Classing short when the summons came again.

He raised his hand for halt. “Thank you, Paul, that will be sufficient.” The Council looked relieved. “Aisling, if you will show him out?”

The man hobbled off the table and took Aisling’s hand, grinning and talking cordially. Lace’s summons came again.

Gabriel stood abruptly and seized Void. “I’m being urgently summoned to Arconia. I will return as soon as I am able.”

“Is it Roby?” Cordis asked.

“No, Lace,” he replied and set the searchers-pattern, zipping into the grayscale world of calm stillness. He affixed his white cloak properly, throwing the shorter half over his shoulder, and dipped under the Dahrry Sea. Bold white cliffs rapidly loomed up from the light gray ocean, and a heartbeat later, he appeared in Lace’s quarters.

She gasped on a couch with a look of pure terror on her face. Her hands surrounded her swollen belly, swathed in a gray-blue gown, darkened around her lower half with water and blood.

“Lace,” he gasped as he cut the searchers.

Her wide eyes flew to him. “Behind you!” she shouted, and something solid hit the back of his head. Gabriel stumbled to his side dazed but scrambled to his regain his balance between Lace and his attacker.

“Pike,” he hissed.

Pike Bronwen stood looking bored in a long green coat. A hand casually rested in his pocket while the other twirled a green pattern. “You took your time.”

Gabriel stepped back and reached out to quietly gasping Lace. All he needed was to make contact, and he could shift them back to Jaden, but Pike was watching. The man was a Class ten in Earth, Spirit, and Void and must have known Gabriel’s intent. Suddenly his bored brown eyes became white and angry. In a blink Gabriel was thrown against the far wall, and the tall man rushed, driving his fist into Gabriel’s ribcage sharply.

Gabriel flung him back with brute force and reached for kinetic energy. People milled about within the mansion, unaware of the danger in the bright sitting room. Gabriel snapped a cord-pattern from his wrist that lashed around Pike’s leg. The man teetered but vanished along with the cord that fell uselessly to the ground.

Gabriel rushed for Lace again, but Pike appeared before him and grabbed his throat. A sense of loss went through Gabriel as the black pattern slipped into his chest, and the all-too-familiar sensation of his Elements vanishing gripped him. Pike smiled handsomely as Gabriel gasped, and laid a pierce-pinch against his chest. Pain rocketed through him as his nerves enflamed, and he staggered backwards, but Pike held him steady.

He looked to Lace whose glistening face painted terror, and he knew what he had to do. He broke from Pike’s grip and made a break for the second-story window, counting the seconds. The pause-pattern kept the Elements at bay for thirty seconds, and with great luck, he could save himself in time.

Glass flew around him as he fell through the spring air. Gabriel rotated his back to the ground as it rushed up, awaiting the Elements. They appeared a moment before he hit, and it was enough to let him bend the earth to soften his fall. The impact still forced air from his lungs.

Servants in the yard scattered and screamed, suddenly aware of the danger present. Gabriel rose as Pike appeared, severing his connection with Void.

“I have been waiting for this moment for awhile,” Pike sneered. “You got the best of me last time. Let me see if I can return the favor.”

Pike moved so quickly Gabriel almost missed the motion, but he felt the repercussions a moment later. Pain shot through his left thigh. He stepped off the leg and realized it was rooted to the ground, pierced through with a spear of jagged stone eight inches through the thigh.

“I am not the man I was when you last fought me,” Gabriel replied and sank green strings into the ground.

“Older and wiser, are you?” Pike chuckled. “Your lady is bleeding t’ death, as will you if you move. Older, yes. Wiser, not quite yet.”

Gabriel smiled.

Sofiya, the Element of Water, had given him a great treasure: pages detailing patterns not seen in Ages. Earth Mages of this Age had not been able to manipulate metal past locating it in the ground, but Gabriel was created to be great.

Metal was everywhere. In the ground, in the water, tiny flecks blowing in the air, and with a tremendous force, he pulled with every ounce of strength he had as Pike melded a green pattern. Pike paused when he saw the glinting flecks, some of gray, black, silver, even gold, and he frowned bewildered.

Gabriel slammed his palms together and pushed the flecks towards Pike, enveloping him in the span of a heartbeat. He twisted the pattern as he folded his hands, and the glinting flecks instantly melted to one solid glimmering piece of moveable metal. Any blacksmith would swear metal had to be heated to become malleable, but no one controlled Earth like Gabriel.

“What under the—” Pike gasped as the metal clamped around him, and he tried to raise his hands from the tar-textured mire. Gabriel altered the pattern and made it solid as Pike stretched a grimed hand towards him. He stopped solidly, fingers reaching for him. Pike’s face was furious, and he seized Void, his head the only part not encased in thin metal.

Gabriel waggled a finger. “I would not lay a Void pattern with my mind if I were you,” he taunted. Pike’s angry eyes became dark once more, and he bared his teeth.

With a controlled cry, Gabriel lifted his leg off the impaling stone, using Earth to pull the flecks out. Blood instantly gushed down his leg, and he knew he had to move quickly as he bound the wound with a cloth-pattern.

He shifted to Lace whose face and hair were glossy with sweat. Two women stood around her, one dabbing her head while the other felt her belly. They looked up as Gabriel appeared.

“Oh, Gabriel,” Lael breathed. “You are wounded.”

“We have to go,” he stated and scooped the tiny woman into his arms. She was a mess of blood and water, trembling in pain. “What did he do to you?” he whispered vehemently. Lace put her head on his shoulder and released her tension into him as she shook. “I am taking her to Castle Jaden where she will be safe,” he stated in Arconian to the women and zipped to where Pike still stood. He tried wrenching himself free but only succeeding in cutting his neck.

“Lace, can you make a connection with him?” he asked quietly. She nodded faintly and took a fistful of the Arch Mage’s hair, gripping tightly to make him grunt. Gabriel shot them towards Jaden, feeling the fatigue in blood loss as he bled into his boot.

“What happened?” he whispered, resting his tired head on hers.

“He just appeared,” she winced. “And threw me down.”

“I’ll get you patched up. I can fix this.”

“I do not need to be fixed.” Her voice rose in pain. “Gabriel, I am going into labor!”

“What?” he breathed. “Oh my stars. You’re too early!”

“You are going t’ be a father,” Pike grinned maliciously.

Gabriel shot a sleepers-pattern into his head, and Pike fell silent.

Castle Jaden loomed in the distance, and he slid through the wards, racing up to the infirmary, and severing the pattern in the atrium. The yellow-mantled woman at the desk started and quickly stood shouting for help.

Gabriel remained rooted to the spot, leaning all his weight on his right leg knowing the left would give if he tried to walk. His face felt cold against Lace’s hot hair.

“Head Mage, give her to me,” a man said as he rushed up.

“She’s in labor. Bring your best midwife. Someone find Mage Afton and Lewis and do not let them leave her side.”

Lace reached out a hand for him as the man took her up. “My hips. My hips are too narrow for this.”

“We can manage it.”

“No,” she said, her voice filled with tears. “I want
you
there.”

“Head Mage, you need to sit,” someone said behind him.

“I will be right there,” he said. “Take her.”

Gabriel fell back into a chair as healers flooded into the atrium, staring at the unconscious Arch Mage incased in metal. “Send for the Secondhand,” he said, and someone to his left rushed off.

A blond man knelt before Gabriel and took up the left leg, ripping the fabric of his trousers on both sides. “Hello, Head Mage,” the man in his middle years said cordially, reaching fingers inside the wound and pinching something. The bleeding slowed dramatically. “I’m Ailin. You Classed me last week. You took quite a wound here.” He peered in and set a white pattern inside, removing his hand as he realigned the severed artery. “Alright, just a minute more.”

He set multiple white patterns, and the muscles reconnected with a sucking sound. Gabriel watched the man work carefully, impressed with his grasp of healing despite being a Gaelsin. Once the skin sealed, Ailin gripped above the knee and bent the leg back and forth. He clamped his hand on the thigh tightly. “Feel t’at?”

“I do.”

“Wondrous well,” Ailin nodded and gripped the back, performing the same action and bending the leg at the hip. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, Head Mage,” he said and wiped his hands on his tunic.

“That’s why the floor in here is wood.”

“Easy clean up,” the man grinned. “Let me fetch you some water and get t’at leg cleaned up.”

He rose and left. Somewhere down the hall, Gabriel heard Lace let out a cry. He did not think he could go to her without help, nor could he leave Pike alone until Lael arrived.

Ailin brought him a mug of water, and wiped the leg with a cloth. Halfway through his water, Lael finally ran in with a look of bewilderment as he took in the scene.

“It that—is that Pike Bronwen?” he gasped. “What happened to you? What happened to
him
?”

Gabriel laid a doldrums pattern on Pike and pulled the metal off him. He crumpled it into a ball. Pike slumped to the ground unconscious.

“What…did you just manipulate metal?” Lael whispered. Gabriel nodded and suddenly his name screamed throughout the infirmary. “Who was that?”

“Lace.”

“What happened? Was she injured?”

“No,” Gabriel paused and looked away. “She’s in labor.”

Lael’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know she…” he looked at Gabriel. “You—oh—oh! Oh….” He flushed red and averted his eyes. “Oh, my.”

“That’s a story for another day that will never come.” Gabriel lifted himself off the chair, and Ailin jumped to his feet to grab his arm.

“Head Mage,” a woman ran in, “we’re going to need you for this one,”

He nodded and slowly walked to the hall.

“Please take Pike to the incanted cells and make sure he is well guarded. Adjourn the Council for the rest of the morning.”

“Of course.”

Gabriel shuffled down the hall, feeling the chill of blood loss grip his face with every breath. He could hear Lace weeping, and her cries drove him faster.

She was propped up in a bed surrounded by three female Mages as they rushed about. Her legs laid up on pillows as one Mage inspected her progress.

“Explain,” Gabriel stated as he stepped in. Someone grabbed him a chair and positioned it beside the bed.

“There was internal ripping that caused the amniotic sack to break. We have patched the bleeding, but the baby has to come out soon,” an older woman he knew as Myria replied. “Her pelvic channel is very narrow though. I don’t know if the baby can make it without assistance.”

“The baby is twenty-seven weeks.” Gabriel said, and Lace looked at him with a surprised expression. “It’s going to be small.”

The Mage looked back under Lace’s dress. “I don’t know if it will be small enough.”

Gabriel swooned as blackness covered his vision, and he felt a hand straighten him before he fell.

“It’s not that bad, Head Mage,” a woman grinned.

“He lost a lot of blood saving the girl,” someone retorted.

“I’m fine,” he muttered and braced himself on the bed. He laid a delve pattern onto Lace’s stomach, but a delve only showed damage, not the internal workings. He did not know if there was one.

“Myria, get blankets and strip her,” Gabriel commanded. “I need to see the stomach and hips.”

“Of course, Head Mage,” the older woman nodded, and they carried out his orders. He closed his eyes and leaned forward with his head wrapped around his forearms. His body was a mixture of terribly hot and freezing cold as it fought to keep blood to his head. “Done, Head Mage.”