Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger

CATHEXIS

Book One

Necromancer’s Dagger

by

Philip Blood

Version 6.00

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PUBLISHED BY:

Philip Blood

Cathexis: Necromancer’s Dagger

Copyright © 2011 by Philip Blood

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to a bookseller and purchase your copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Dedication

There are a lot of people I would like to thank for this book. I started this four-book series many years ago, and over time, many people have helped me along the way. Firstly, I have to thank Rhonda St. Laurent, who was there from the first page, helping me with her knowledge and skills in writing. Ron DeRuyter was my primary reader and editor during the bulk of the entire Cathexis series and I really, really, really appreciate it!

But there were many others, Todd Blood listened to me read the daily pages from beginning to end and added many ideas to the story. Dan Althouse read the raw work and bet me a dollar I couldn’t finish the series in four books (making his dollar my first one earned). Kathy Van Allen gave me the kindest compliment on this story when she said that she found herself laughing and crying on the same page. And to Marianne Wilhelm, for listening to me and putting up with my mind living inside this fantasy world for two years straight.

I had many test readers, like John, Mary, and Leah Savage, Will Ware, and others, I wish I could thank them all, but that would take several pages. You all know who you are, so thanks!

Finally, I’d like to thank my father, Philip R. Blood, who passed away recently, for reading and editing the novels and for getting me into writing in the first place, thanks, dad!

And now…

CATHEXIS

Book One

Necromancer’s Dagger

PROLOGUE: MICHAEL

The heir to the kingdom of Lindankar was born with the first rays of morning light and by the fall of evening darkness, his death was planned. On his day of birth, the just gathered to celebrate and the wicked conspired to murder and exactly one year after Michael Ardellen's birth the necromancer's dagger would strike.

- Headmaster Lucent Margraves

Light and focus parted the darkness like the opening of a theater curtain. Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open as she returned from the land of dreams. Fear for her child’s safety brought her swiftly awake, but she relaxed when she felt her newborn son snuggled safely against her side.

The new mother looked up to see her husband’s concerned face staring down; the skin between his intense blue eyes creased like the furrows of a farmer’s field. Elizabeth smiled and reached up to his face with her slim right hand to try and smooth away his worry wrinkles.

She spoke to him with a voice sounding slightly of sleep, You shouldn’t scrunch up like that, your face might take an imprint, like cathexis metal, and then you would go through the rest of life scowling at everyone.

Jatar’s brow relaxed, yet his voice betrayed his contained emotion, G’lan, I thought I had lost you!

Elizabeth gave him a warm yet serious smile and replied, If all the evil in the world stood between us, they could not keep me from coming to you.

At her smile and words, Jatar's concern was replaced by a warm flood of emotion. In all ways, Elizabeth was the most beautiful person he had ever met. Her physical beauty took away his breath each time his eyes caressed her features. Her long auburn hair framed her exquisitely shaped face. Her small nose accented her generous and perfectly formed lips and her high cheekbones gave her an exotic trait that showed her royal Hevarnan lineage. They balanced the shape of her face and drew his gaze to her brown eyes. He often found himself falling into those dark wells of smoldering power. She was beautiful, by any man’s standards, but her physical beauty always seemed dull compared to the compassion of her soul and there Jatar found beauty unmatched in the world.

With the back of his battle rough fingers, Jatar reached out and touched the side of her soft alabaster cheek in a gentle caress. Then he spoke softly, I was worried when the stone burned our son, and then you collapsed, what happened?

It’s Michael’s aura, my quick look at his aura strength, just after his birth, was not a detailed probe. I knew he had strong potential, but I hadn’t realized his aura was so intense! Her voice rose with excitement, The Aurora stone test showed the strongest potential aura I have ever seen! It was so strong it caused the Aurora stone to emit light into the range of heat and that was powerful enough to burn his skin. When I noticed what was happening, I removed the stone as quickly as possible.

But why did you collapse? Jatar interjected, concern again etching his face.

She smiled wanly and replied, Well, I tried to use my powers to heal him, but my aura is still replenishing from this morning's extreme expenditure of giving birth. I went beyond the usable limits of my power, but do not fear for me, my love, I will recover, but let's see how well my healing went for our newborn son.

Elizabeth started to open Michael’s wrap, but she paused a moment when she saw the bandage on her left hand.

He was not the only one burned, Jatar explained simply.

Elizabeth nodded and continued opening Michael’s wrap. On his infant’s white chest, she saw a faint faceted shaped scar right where the Aurora stone had lain against his skin.

Elizabeth inspected the scar for a moment, but since there was no current danger she did not reach for her weakened powers. She then explained to her husband, I can heal the rest of this scar away as soon as my powers have a chance to recuperate.

I don’t think you should, Jatar replied.

Frowning slightly, the sorceress asked, Why?

The mark on your hand matches the mark on his chest perfectly. It will serve as a reminder of his wonderful aura, discovered by his mother on the day of his birth. Think of it as a kind of aura birthmark and, since it matches yours, it will also remind him of his mother’s love. It’s only a faint scar anyway.

Well, I’ll do as milord desires; after all, I can always remove it later if he doesn’t want the mark. Jatar, Michael has the strongest child's aura I've ever seen or heard of, even in my Adept memories! Do you realize what his aura strength means?

I have a fair idea; he can be trained as a sorcerer, which also means he must, eventually, travel to the Kirnath School for instruction. Though, I can’t say I like the thought of his being away from our protection.

Elizabeth reached out a hand and took hold of his forearm and then replied, But, Jatar, you’ve told me many times how important it was to your education when you spent time fostering in the kingdoms of Bralter, Tazlany, and Belorn.

I hate it when you use my own words to make your point, he scolded, playfully, and then added, Fostering at another kingdom is good training for a future ruling Lord and the friendships he’ll form are vital to future peace. Jatar noticed that Elizabeth was about to speak so he headed her off. Next, you’re probably going to remind me that you left your country to grow up at the Kirnath School, but our son is not in the same situation. You weren’t in Autrany’s direct line of succession and both of your parents had already passed away, Jatar reasoned gently.

You’re right, of course; I was only a first cousin in the Hevarnan line, while Michael will be your heir. It is true that he must go to the Kirnath School for part of his training, but remember, I can give him much of the instruction here, she promised. Let’s put that aside for the moment; instead, imagine the things he will be able to accomplish! Our hopes and dreams of uniting more of the kingdoms into a coalition will have an even better chance. With the skills of a Kirnath sorcerer at his call, the necromancers will have trouble opposing his moves. With proper training, he may be able to do more than any Adept alive. G’lan, I don’t even know his limits! Until he goes through the change at puberty no one will know his full capabilities, a child’s aura only shows potential, but his potential is already extraordinary!

Excitement danced in her eyes as Elizabeth took hold of Jatar’s arm and squeezed. Think of it, a future ruling Lord with more than full Adept powers! What a legacy for your throne!

The dreams of her son’s future successes brought another thought and a cloud of worry shaded her expression. Jatar, we must quickly downplay this episode. We should put out a story blaming a faulty Aurora stone for the display of light. Let people think that Michael was re-tested with above-average results, but only slightly better than normal.

A puzzled expression came across Jatar’s face at his wife’s sudden change in tone and he asked, Why the secrecy?

Remember the necromancers, I’ve told you of their link with the Dark Plane. They wield evil powers and use their connection to the darkness toward the enslavement of every country where they can gain a foothold. The Kirnath sorcerers are the only organized force capable of opposing their dark powers. The last thing the necromancers wish to see is a ruler, with Kirnath training, wielding strong aura power against them from the throne of a powerful nation like Lindankar.

Jatar sat next to Elizabeth and took her soft right hand between his calloused fingers. We have you here to protect our son from their evil plots. There aren’t too many of these necromancers, are there? he asked, already knowing the answer.

Elizabeth conceded the point, No, the ordeal of becoming a full necromancer tends to destroy the majority of neophytes making the attempt.

Jatar sprung his point, Then, with your training and powers, you should have no trouble protecting Michael if they dare to show themselves in Lindankar, just as you have guarded me against their evil plots. Jatar knew her capabilities and truly trusted her to protect him and his child on that front.

Elizabeth was warmed by Jatar’s belief in her aura skills, but she knew he needed to understand the full danger of the necromancers. I will do my best, but remember, I am only one sorceress and, though their numbers are few, there are enough necromancers to overcome me if they make a concerted effort. Until now they have not thought it worth the risk of public exposure, but your moves toward creating a united Council of Lords must have them worried. If they thought a sorcerer of extreme power was going to rule from Lindankar's throne, furthering your direction toward unification, they might think the risk of exposure worth the assassination of Michael while he is still untrained. As she spoke, Elizabeth hugged her newborn son protectively to her soft breast.

Jatar strode across the room with clenched fists to gaze out the window at his capital city. They wouldn’t dare, he said, intensely.

Elizabeth shook her head in negation and said softly, For something as important as an extremely powerful Kirnath ruler, they might risk coming out of their dark holes. I’ve often warned you about the necromancer’s lack of fanfare, you may not see them, but trust me when I tell you that they are the true enemies to your aims of peace. Her deep brown eyes held Jatar’s gaze for a moment and then she added, Humor me about hiding the true strength of Michael’s aura.

Jatar bowed formally from the waist and answered, It will be done as you ask. He was becoming concerned about his wife; he didn’t want to stress her further with worry about these necromancers, he figured that she had been through enough on this day of giving birth.

Elizabeth sighed and eased herself against her bed cushions. She adjusted Michael’s wrap and then again spoke to her husband, It’s time for you to go out and placate the nobles. Even as we speak, the mill that produces rumors is probably in full production of that tiresome product called gossip.

In an attempt to lighten the mood and ease her worries Jatar turned and struck an exaggerated, regal pose, raising one hand as if ready to speak in oratory fashion. I go to make meaningless pleasantries with spying conspirators and cryptic nonsense with tiresome court cretins… or was that the other way around? he asked, stopping his proclamation as if puzzled and going back over his own words.

Elizabeth shook her head in amusement.

Far away from Tarnelin, the capital city of Lindankar, where Jatar just left his wife and newborn son, there is an old keep that sprouts from a granite ridge like a broken rotted tooth pointing at the sky. Deep in the corrupted roots, three conspirators gathered to plot murder. In a dim chamber, a single torch cast twisting shapes of shadowy creatures on the rough-hewn stone wall, but the true monsters faced each other across the top of the coarse wooden table.

You would be hard-pressed to find three more different men, yet some dark force had brought them to an uneasy alliance.

The first conspirator looked like an ancient wrinkled corpse. His thin emaciated body was concealed by a dark hooded cloak. Only the tip of his gnarled nose projected from within the shadows of the cloak's cowl. His crinkle-skinned hand never strayed far from the hilt of a dagger that was tucked through a black cord belt at his waist. His name was CAracusS and he wielded the dead powers of necromancy.

He addressed the other two men in a monotone whisper as rough as a death rattle. I traveled by projection on the Dark Road and have just returned from Tarnelin; the sorceress bore her cursed husband an heir to the Lindankar throne. The child already showed aura power and so he must die.

The second conspirator wore rich garments of the nobility, which were made from silk and soft leather with white fur accents. He was on the young side of middle age and he sat back in his chair as if surveying the world for his amusement. There was the hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth and an amused sparkle deep in his dark eyes.

He spoke and his jovial tone was in stark contrast to the necromancer’s graveyard whisper, Then we are agreed on this plan: I will supply both of you with inside information and use my position to manipulate the necessary people to get Major Von Dracek into Lord Jatar’s palace, at the appropriate time, one year from now.

He turned his smiling eyes on the third member of the conspiracy and said, Major, you will spend the year preparing Lord Tysol to be our tool. He must be fashioned into a diversion worthy of Lady Ardellen's attention. The sorceress must be too concerned about her husband’s safety to notice the presence of a necromancer in her very palace. With her attention diverted, CAracusS can summon his evil creature and let it loose on Lord Jatar.

The third conspirator was a military man; he wore a simple yet well-groomed uniform of the Tchulian mercenary corps. His face was clean-shaven, his jaw hard, like wrought iron. His light brown hair was cut so short that he nearly seemed bald. His eyes were deep-set and dark brown. The hovering brows and long thin nose gave him the look of a bird of prey. The Major nodded curtly to the noble and said, And once your beast has consumed Jatar’s soul, what of his wife, the Sorceress? I want that Kirnath bitch and all her kind… dead.

The necromancer rasped out his reply, She dies, but that is his job. CAracusS turned his yellowed eyes on the nobleman.

That man now spoke, I suppose I can do away with one unsuspecting woman. The nobleman had his habitual smirk on his face and he picked at some dirt under one of his fingernails.

The Tchulian mercenary officer frowned and leaned forward to stare at the man's smirking face; he smacked the flat of his hand onto the tabletop to get the smirking noble to look his way and then pointed a finger at him as he said, Never underestimate the powers of the Kirnath sorcerers.

The nobleman chuckled as he held the mercenary’s eyes boldly for a moment, though he did not answer.

The necromancer pointed at the nobleman with a shriveled finger that was little more than skin-covered bone and spoke in a death-bed whisper, On the day we strike at Jatar, you will go to the church with Lady Ardellen and her young spawn. There you will arrange for them both to die, swiftly and without a mistake! At nearly the same moment, I will use my necromancy to open the bridge between the worlds and bring forth a Darknull. I will bargain with the beast and arrange for it to consume Lord Jatar’s soul. With his body empty, I will use this cathexis dagger to switch my consciousness into Lord Jatar’s body and take control, becoming the ruler of Lindankar! CAracusS paused briefly as he withdrew a highly-polished blade from his belt and then drove the sharp point into the wood of the table.

The Tchulian mercenary looked at the dagger curiously. Everyone had heard of cathexis metal, but few had ever seen one of the nineteen objects made from the rare substance. He contemplated the perfect mirror surface of the silvery blade curiously and wondered if all the stories were true, was this simple dagger, made from cathexis, truly more valuable than a kingdom? Suddenly his gaze returned to the nobleman and he asked, And how are you so sure you can kill a Kirnath sorceress?

The nobleman sniffed and adjusted the fur at his collar, but instead of answering directly, he turned his amused gaze on the cadaverous necromancer. While you are availing yourself of the late Jatar’s body and throne, I will have the sorceress and her son killed by assassins. He quickly held up a hand to forestall the mercenary's outburst. My men are well trained for this task and they will be armed with a poison that disrupts the powers of a sorceress. With her mind clouded, the Kirnath witch can't focus and use her aura powers.

At that revelation, the Major sat back into his chair and then said, And when we are successful, then what happens?

The nobleman shrugged, After CAracusS is in control of the ruler’s body everyone will take his orders as if he were Jatar. Then you, my good Major, will assist with the purge of Jatar’s loyal officers and take command of the military.

There was a brief silence as the major smoothed his slim mustache and goatee with a thumb and forefinger. He leaned forward, placing his callused right hand on the table; the ruby eyes of his Death’s Head officer’s ring glinted in the torchlight. How do I know you two will keep our bargain after the Ardellen family is dead?

The hooded necromancer whispered in reply, Unless you have changed your mind since the last time we spoke, all you desire is the destruction of the Kirnath. Of that you have the best assurance of all, it is in my best interests. The Kirnath have repeatedly attempted to eradicate the necromantic arts; they don’t ‘approve’ of our methods. This time, we will purge the sorcerers and all their kind from the world. We will take their precious school and burn it to the ground.

The Tchulian merc raised one hand with the index finger extended to make his point, Just remember, I am to be there when the Kirnath Adepts and their school are finished. For once his emotionless face showed a squint of intense hatred.

As you wish, rasped the necromancer and waved his liver-spotted hand in dismissal of the petty detail.

The Tchulian major’s face returned to an iron mask and he leaned back in his chair. The day cannot come too soon.

You hate them, hey? the nobleman asked in a soft voice, then a knowing smile spread across his handsome face.

I have my reasons and that is all you need to know, spat the Tchulian major, his back straight with military formality.

The nobleman raised one lace-cuffed hand and tapped his index finger repeatedly against his lips while staring at the major. Finally, with a chilling smile, he pushed his chair back and stood. Then it is agreed, one year from today, on the first birth celebration of the Lindankar heir, Lord Jatar Ardellen’s soul will be destroyed, his body and kingdom stolen, and his wife and child killed. Then we will be in control of the most powerful kingdom in the north.

CHAPTER ONE: TYSOL

Though other scholars might begin their chronicle of the Final Battle in ancient times or, much later, when the boy killed his friend and came of age, or perhaps at the time of the Sundering... I contend that the turning point in history was that fateful day, during the first week of spring, in the year 3012 AG. It was on that day that Michael Ardellen turned one year old and the world shuddered with foreshadowing of the epic events to come. On that day of summer, the Ardellen family took the first step off a cliff and plummeted into the maelstrom of history. It was on this exact day that the three conspirators: a nobleman, a mercenary major, and a necromancer culminated their plan to steal the throne of Lindankar.

- Headmaster Lucent Margraves

It was a hot sultry day without the slightest breeze; even the wind seemed to hold its breath waiting for the events of the day to unfold. The brightness of the day was in stark contrast with the darkness of the deeds to come. The land of Lindankar was poised to celebrate but destined to mourn. Merchants, with their long mule trains of fabulous goods, flocked like flutters to seed, enticed by the scent of profit that floated in the very air of the celebrating capital city. Fancy coaches trundled in through the city gates, followed by their full entourage, as all the nobility came to attend the festivities. Ruling Lords and important Ambassadors from surrounding kingdoms arrived with great pomp and self-importance while the common folk poured into every inn and tavern to talk about the big event. It was the eve of Michael Ardellen’s first birth celebration and his official recognition as heir to the throne.

Lady Elizabeth Ardellen stood directing events in the elegant banquet hall. She stood near the long dining table which was set to seat thirty-two honored guests during the evening’s celebration dinner. At this very moment, Elizabeth was thinking that not all of these `honored’ guests were necessarily honorable, but this dinner for the visiting rulers, ambassadors, and other sundry notables was traditional and, therefore, nearly unavoidable.

Tapestries draped the walls and depicted single and family portraits of past Ardellen generations. Servants flittered around, like flutters making a nest, cleaning, placing dishes, and adjusting tablecloths.

Elizabeth watched over the proceedings from the center, giving a helping hand here and a good suggestion there, wherever her guidance was needed. She noticed a spot on a crystal glass and began polishing it when a household servant approached; it was Gavin, a stiff and formal long-time servant of the Ardellen family.

Gavin's immaculately clean white and gold uniform hung from his thin frame as if his bones were a set of connecting hangers. The old servant spoke stiffly to Elizabeth, Milady, Lord Jatar requests your presence in his private chambers.

Lady Elizabeth straightened up and turned to face Gavin. She liked the old man and decided to tease him a little. With a twinkle in her eye, she said, Does he? Well, Gavin, I’m too busy right now, so you can tell him to come down here. She hoped to get a reaction from the somber servant and wasn't disappointed.

Gavin looked confused and puzzled, but he replied as diplomatically as possible. Milady, he seemed very adamant about obtaining your opinion on his wardrobe. He has just finished his bath and is not sure what his attire should be for tonight’s festivities.

Elizabeth turned back to her crystal glass, as if unconcerned, and answered, Tell him he’ll just have to wait. She continued to polish the glass while watching the servant from the corner of her eye.

He remained standing while shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot, nervously. Still trying not to smile, Elizabeth held the crystal up to the light while inspecting the shine and said, Is there something else I can help you with, Gavin?

Resigned to his fate, the servant prepared to leave and replied in a heavy tone, No, milady.

Elizabeth waited until he started his turn to depart and finally said, You look positively morbid with your shoulders slumped down like that, Gavin. Cheer up, Jatar won’t do anything to you, though come to think of it, she added, taking hold of her chin thoughtfully, rulers have been known to kill the bearer of bad tidings.

Gavin stopped and, if possible, his expression grew even more pitiful.

Elizabeth suddenly smiled warmly at the old servant as she said, Would it make you feel better if I came back to see Jatar with you?

With a look of relief, the servant nodded and answered, A great deal, milady.

Well then, let us depart immediately. However, in return, I will require your aid in a little plot.

With an all-new rueful expression, the servant asked resignedly, Plot, milady?

Oh yes, she answered with a mischievous little smile, there is always a plot.

Gavin addressed Jatar nervously and recited the words Elizabeth had told him, Milady bade me inform milord and I quote, `If you wish to see me immediately then come down to the dining room dressed as you are, otherwise, don’t bother me.’

She said WHAT! The nearly naked Lord Jatar Ardellen exclaimed in a shout.

Gavin dutifully started to repeat Elizabeth’s message, If you wish...

If that’s what she wants, fine, Jatar interrupted and stomped toward the door in his undergarments. The angry ruler of Lindankar grabbed the door handle and flung it open and then his body started forward a half-step before he saw Elizabeth in front of him, leaning on her shoulder against the doorframe, a smile peeking out of her eyes.

She raised her eyebrows as she gave his body the once over from the top of his head to the toes of his feet and then commented, Isn’t that outfit going to be a little drafty for the dining hall?

Jatar’s expression changed rapidly from anger to surprise and then to understanding and finally back to feigned anger as he spoke with a hint of playfulness, Oh ho, my little prankster thinks to amuse herself at her husband’s expense!

Jatar leaped forward and grabbed Elizabeth around the thighs, which elicited a startled yelp. He then straightened up and bent her over his broad shoulder while heading back into the room.

That will be all for the moment, Jatar calmly told Gavin as he passed the old servant with his wife’s rump high in the air.

Thank you, milord, Gavin answered, without changing his normal straight-faced expression. He then turned and departed the room, closing the door behind him as he departed.

As Gavin walked away, he heard a high-pitched scream and then peals of laughter. The playful royal couple would have been amazed to see the brief smile of approval flash across Gavin’s wrinkly old face before his expression resumed his normal competent and serious demeanor.

Sometime later, Elizabeth was helping Jatar dress for dinner within their chambers when she said, Given who is attending our dinner party tonight, this could turn into a very interesting evening, I feel a tension in the air.

Jatar watched his wife’s concentrating face as she adjusted the collar of his shirt. Your Kirnath abilities tell you this? he asked.

No, my woman’s intuition. Are you prepared for the friction that is bound to commence with both the Ambassador of Amak-Ta-Dol and the Lord of Olsk in the same room?

Of course, Jatar replied, though I shall endeavor to mediate between them so that a new skirmish does not break out in our very Banquet Hall. I’m more concerned with Lord Tysol of Datoria. Frankly, I was surprised to see that he accepted our invitation; he must know that it was only sent as a token. He has made no secret of his opposition to our attempts to start a coalition of Lords. He’s been particularly adamant in opposing a united effort to free Autrany from the Usurper.

At the mention of Autrany, the country of Elizabeth’s birth, she stepped to the window and gazed out at the city lights. Her spirits were in anguish at the thought of her proud people under the grip of a usurping tyrant. Her powerful aura stirred in the depths of her brown eyes as strong emotion welled up in her heart.

When are we going to come to their aid, Jatar? They are my people as well as these, she said, gesturing across the lights of Tarnelin. It has been nearly a year since the Usurper’s army marched across Autrany. If only we’d seen it coming, we could have helped defend them against the foul attack, she lamented.

Jatar shook his head sadly, But we didn’t know and the attack was so sudden. You were pregnant and about to give birth. It was the perfect time for the Usurper to move. We will do something about that tyrant, soon, I promise. In two days, I will convene the first Council of Lords. With the united support of our allies, we will be strong enough to liberate Autrany and its people. When Autrany is free of the tyrant, we will place a member of the Hevarnan bloodline back on the throne, he promised.

If only some of my relatives survived. I was sure some would have made their way to our protection by now. I can only hope that they are living in hiding within Autrany’s occupied cities, she replied and added a silent prayer to G’lan for their safety. Except for Michael, I would have gone in search of them myself, she told him quietly and lowered her head in grief.

A moment later, Elizabeth looked up and there was a sudden hardening in her features. Jatar, don’t let Lord Tysol disrupt your plans. This new council could solidify the friendships you’ve created since you became Lord of Lindankar. Let’s make Autrany’s sacrifice count. We’ll turn this tide of evil around and rebuild Autrany as part of the new alliance! she exclaimed as she got her mind back on positive things.

Then the first thing we’ll need to do is stifle Lord Tysol’s mouth, Jatar noted with annoyance. He sows the seeds of contention within the ranks of the Lords by spreading rumors and lies. His dislike for me is well known, so it doesn’t bother me all that much, but I have heard rumors of him spreading lies about you. These lies hurt our cause, Jatar stated while fingering the hilt of his sword.

Elizabeth was intrigued. What have you heard?

I haven’t heard anything specific, just rumors that you are ‘controlling’ me with your ‘dark’ powers. He infers that I am a puppet on the throne enthralled by an evil sorceress. He hasn’t said it to anyone we could use as a reliable witness, he’s careful about that; but if he ever makes that mistake in my presence, I’ll call him out, Jatar finished, gripping his sword hilt until his knuckles showed white.

Jatar, you must not put yourself in danger on account of my honor. You are too important to the negotiations. If we are ever to have peace in the lands and stop this constant destructive warfare someone must take the lead and show an ability to understand and compromise with his neighbors. You’ve worked so hard over these last few years and we’re finally starting to see real progress. If we were to lose you now, besides breaking my heart, it would undo everything we have accomplished, his beautiful wife pleaded.

Well, not everything; we have ‘accomplished’ a beautiful son named Michael and, after our tryst this afternoon, perhaps we’ve ‘accomplished’ even more! Besides, it’s Michael’s first-year birth celebration, so I refuse to be unhappy, no matter who is here, Jatar said to try and lighten the mood. He was tired of discussing the depressing machinations of Lord Tysol.

Picking up the flow of his thoughts Elizabeth put on a sly smile and said, Well it’s hard to argue with that kind of statement. She winked at him and added, Did milord wish to ruffle my clothes again, or may I be excused to don my dinner apparel?

Jatar stood rubbing his chin with one hand and appraised her slim rounded form with one eyebrow raised. Hm, given that choice...

To dinner, before the guests tear each other apart, besides, she added with a teasing smile and tilt of her head, there’s always later tonight. For now, why don’t you wait for me in the south hall alcove while I throw on some clothes? It won’t take too long.

Lord Trask was a large man; he stood two full hand spans over six feet. His large face was nearly covered with a thick red beard that went down and nearly touched his chest. On his way to the banquet hall, he found the slim athletic form of Jatar standing behind a chair in an alcove where he was waiting for Elizabeth. Jatar was looking out the window at a palace garden while thinking about his son and the future. Two chairs and a small table were before him facing the window.

Berelle, it’s good to see you again, Jatar said and greeted his foster brother with a huge grin that proved he meant it.

And you, Jatar, it has been too long, Lord Trask replied with an equally large grin, his voice a deep baritone that sounded like it had the power of the north winds of his homelands.

Jatar stood back and took a good look at his big friend, he had to look upwards to do so. The large man was dressed for dinner in an understated long jacket of thick coarse material and matching pants of dark blue. The shirt had a high collar, buttoned at the neck. It lacked the ruffles which were the style of the time. Berelle reached up with his right hand and pulled at his stiff collar, uncomfortable in the dress clothing.

Jatar grinned at his huge friend as he said, How can a man who ventures around the cold north in a rusty chain mail shirt, which outweighs a small horse, look so uncomfortable in simple cloth?

I’m used to good steel, but this… why is this collar so tight? he growled, pulling forcefully at the confining material around his neck.

Jatar slapped his friend on the back, to no effect, and said, Thank G’lan you'll never change, Berelle. How are Pricilla and the children?

She’s doing well, but she has reached the sixth month of her term making the journey here too strenuous. That is the reason I must depart immediately after Michael’s investment. Jerome and Calt are growing strong and Brelt is almost ready to learn the sword, Lord Trask reported with a father’s pride.

Come now, Brelt’s what, three years old? Jatar asked, amused at his friend’s optimistic pride.

Yes, but he’s another one like Calt, a hellion. His mother is about to pack it all in and become a hermit. Just before I left, he got into the stable yard and managed the neat trick of rolling around in the manure; I don’t know why. Eventually, he must have tired himself out because he went to bed. Meanwhile, his mother was frantically looking for the boy. Jatar, you should have seen the look on Pricilla’s face when she finally found him by following the smell of manure. He was in bed, with his clothes on, covered head to toe in excrement. Berelle's smile was broad and proud as he recounted his son’s latest adventure.

Jatar poked Berelle in the chest with his forefinger as he said, He reminds me of you. Remember the four years that you, Pellev, Verdew, and I fostered together? It seems like we were in trouble more often than not. I recall one episode, during the year we spent here, when all four of us got into the snerg pens. Remember how we pretended to be knights on battle mounts as we rode our sordid, snorting, and squealing stallions? When we were through, I think there were more mud spots and snerg manure than clean areas when we walked into the palace. After they scoured us, with both water and words, I remember Grandfather putting us over his knee in hopes of beating some brains up into our heads.

Laughing, Berelle clapped Jatar on the back with his big meaty hand. The blow caused his friend to stagger forward a half-step. I don’t think it worked, at least not the first time, but it wasn’t the only time your grandfather put us over his knee before he died. It’s too bad he isn’t around, physically, to do the same for my boys; I could use the help! If your Grandfather hadn't passed away, I would have sent for him to straighten out young Calt. You know, it’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to speak with your Grandfather... would you mind?

Of course not, Berelle, he always enjoys speaking with you, but… Jatar glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no one was near enough to listen, …I don’t have the family ring right now.

Berelle looked puzzled. I thought you always wore it?

G’Taklar, a young cousin, is on his first embassy to Zinterdalin to negotiate some trade agreements for Lindankar. Those negotiations are very important, so I wanted to give them my attention, after all, G’Taklar has to deal with Lord Ufer Hervet.

Do you think it was wise to send your inexperienced cousin to deal with Lord Hervet? He will be lucky to come away with his shirt! Berelle scoffed.

I know, but with Michael’s official recognition as heir coming up, I couldn’t be away. I decided to send the family cathexis ring with G’Taklar. I’ve worn it long enough to imprint, so when he needs advice, he can consult with my personality within the cathexis ring. I know it was a big risk sending the ring, but in a way, I’m still with it, guiding G’Taklar from within. My cousin is an honest and intelligent youth who only needs some seasoning to make a fine man. He’s spent too much time studying in the palace and not enough time experiencing real life. The negotiations are important enough to be worth the slight risk to the ring, yet not so difficult that G’Taklar can’t handle them with occasional input from my imprint within the cathexis. Besides you can well bet that I sent some worthy protection with G’Taklar. No one knows of this, except me, Elizabeth, and now you, so I would consider it a great favor if you would keep it behind your beard.

Of course, Jatar, am I not your bond brother, sworn with blood?

Jatar smiled and looked at the faint scar on the palm of his right hand. Yes, you are; which is why you are one of only five people who know the Ardellen signet ring is made out of cathexis. I also remember the day we cut ourselves with that rusty old scullery knife and clasped hands. You know, it’s a lucky thing we didn’t die of the rot from that filthy thing.

I know, but I still honor that pledge and always will, brother, Berelle held out his hand and Jatar clasped it in a tight grip.

The two men turned away, each ignoring the wet eyes of the other.

At that moment, Lady Elizabeth Ardellen arrived looking resplendent.

Her gown was designed in the Kirnath school colors of maroon and gray with the bodice cut low and laced tightly at her small waist. Her brown hair, with bronze highlights, was done up tight with small ringlets hanging down on the left side of her neck. Lying on her skin, just above the bodice of her gown, was a silver chain holding a tiny Aurora Stone which glowed white from her aura power. Gone, for the moment, was the playful girl who had been with Jatar earlier, in her place stood the Sorceress Lady Elizabeth Ember Ardellen. The aurora stone displayed her full power for all to see and her regal Hevarnan lineage showed in every graceful move.

The two conversing Lords paused to gape; stunned at the captivating vision of the sorceress.

Smiling warmly at Jatar’s long-time friend and foster brother, Lady Ardellen approached and said, How are you, Berelle? I trust Pricilla and the children are well?

Her radiant smile flustered the northern Lord even more; he wasn’t used to the spectacular dress of Lindankar’s court, or the extraordinary beauty and regal bearing of Lady Elizabeth. Ah, fi-fine thank you, stammered Berelle. He was having some trouble deciding who was in control of his eyes.

And? she asked, giving him an even broader smile.

And… what, milady? he asked, having missed her second question completely.

Priscilla and the children? she prompted.

Oh! They are fine, fine. You’re looking very, ah, very…

Very what? she asked, totally amused.

…very fine this evening, he finally managed.

Thank you, Berelle; it’s so nice of you to notice. I’ll miss seeing Priscilla again, but I understand she has your next child well on the way? Elizabeth prompted.

Who? he asked, his mind not caught up to her words yet.

Your next child, she repeated as she reached up to take his large left ear in her hand so she could use it for a handle to shake his head.

Oh, yes, of course! I’m leaving soon to get back for the birth! he finally answered, massaging his ear while grinning at Elizabeth ruefully.

With a last amused glance at Jatar's foster brother, Elizabeth gestured in the direction of the dining hall. If you’re both ready, I suggest we make our entrance. I’m sure the snarling weff pack is waiting to tear into us, she noted, yet smiled to show that she looked forward to the challenge.

Jatar glanced at the still stricken Lord Berelle. Ahmmm, yes, shall we? he said while clearing his throat and using his hand to hide a smile. He offered his arm to his beautiful wife and they walked down the hall to the ornate double doors of the banquet hall.

A servant opened the doors as they entered. Lord Berelle Trask followed a few steps behind.

A low murmur of conversation hummed around the banquet hall. Most of the sound emanated from clusters of people who stood about like islands in a sea; occasionally a lone ship would chart the unfamiliar waters to test the climate of a different port.

The room was dominated by a long dining table adorned with white and gold tablecloths with polished silver and shining goblets. Giant crystal chandeliers, situated above the table at three places, reflected rainbows of light in a myriad of glittering sparkles.

Four unobtrusive, yet vigilant, guards stood on duty in the corners of the room. They were attired in white leather and highly polished light mail chest armor. Their uniforms were accented in Lord Ardellen’s colors of white and gold.

With his head held high, Lord Jatar entered the hall with his Lady’s hand placed lightly on his left forearm. He stopped and surveyed the room while nodding to some of his supporters and gazing sternly at his few known adversaries. Conversations faltered and then slowly picked up again when the Lord and his Lady moved to join one of the nearest groups of people.

Elizabeth and Jatar stopped to speak with the ruler of Olsk and his wife, and Lord Trask joined the group.

Good evening, Brik, and how are you, Lady Margret? Jatar said, greeting Lord Rinholt and his wife. We’re so glad you could make it to our celebration.

Glad to come, Jatar, he answered and then nodded to Elizabeth. We hear you put on quite a banquet. And good evening to you, Lord Trask, Brik added, noting the arrival of the large ruler of Bralter.

Two other men moved over to join their group. Like light and shadow, they arrived together. The blond hair color of Lord Verdew contrasted starkly with Lord Pellev's long dark brown hair.

Lord Pellev and Lord Verdew; speak of the Darknulls and here they are! Jatar said jokingly. Berelle and I were just talking about our fostering years and here the four of us are, together again.

Berelle stepped forward with a big grin for their foster brothers. Yes, Jatar and I were just remarking that Pellev was an excellent mud and manure collector when he was younger.

Lord Pellev Welter looked puzzled as he stated, Excuse me?

You remember, Pellev, don’t you, riding the snergs! Lord Verdew prompted.

Of course, riding the snergs, I’d almost forgotten. He turned to face Lord and Lady Rinholt, and then explained with a smile. Jatar, Berelle, Verdew, and I were fostered together; we each spent a year at the other’s homes. We got into all kinds of boyhood shenanigans. His sparkling gaze flicked to Jatar as he added, Now your son will be getting into trouble soon, won’t he, Jatar?

The sooner the better, I can’t wait to see the man he will grow into, Jatar replied with pride.

Is fostering always done in your countries? Lady Rinholt inquired politely.

It is an old custom that our fathers revived, Jatar explained, they decided to send their sons to other kingdoms so that they would understand their neighbors and form personal friendships which might help them avoid wars in the future. Spending a year growing up somewhere gives you a whole new outlook on that place.

Berelle nodded in agreement and said, I know and trust my foster brothers Pellev, Verdew, and Jatar because I shared a piece of life with them. It is people like him, Berelle gestured toward where Lord Tysol and Major Von Dracek, the Tchulian merc, were conversing, who I worry about because I don’t know how they think.

Pellev turned slightly and looked over his shoulder to where Berelle had gestured. His eyes squinted with intensity and he said, You're right, I don’t trust Lord Tysol; that man bears watching.

Separate from any other groups, the young Tchulian Major, Harland Von Dracek, spoke conspiratorially with Lord Tysol of Datoria. Von Dracek wore the brown military uniform of his country’s famous mercenary corps. He stood to Lord Tysol’s right to allow the Lord of Datoria to look directly across the room at Lord Jatar and his foster brothers.

Tysol was of medium height and build. His eyes were too small and close together for his face, giving him a slightly cross-eyed appearance. He wore a gaudy gown of turquoise silk and had gold chains with embedded multicolored gems around his neck.

The Major gestured slightly with his head toward Jatar and Elizabeth as he said, Do you see, milord, how she never lets him out of her reach? Von Dracek’s voice was almost a purr and his intense dark eyes never left Lord Tysol’s as he worked on the man's mind.

Yes, I see, that sorceress bitch has him completely enthralled, agreed Lord Tysol with a fanatic’s conviction, It’s just as you have told me, Jatar isn’t master of his bed, let alone his kingdom.

You are very shrewd, milord, the Tchulian merc agreed, though he thought, As shrewd as a farmer’s snerg, yet your amazing stupidity is what makes you perfect for my purpose.

Tysol glared intently at Jatar’s handsome face and said, But he was once a real man, before this monster, this sorceress, destroyed him? Tysol asked and nodded his head as if this was an original thought he had just conceived.

Yes, Lord, a man’s man, a warrior Lord, like his father, Von Dracek agreed. But the Kirnath sorceress has robbed him of his honor.

Is he as good with his sword as they say? Tysol asked for the hundredth time since Von Dracek had begun teaching him to fence.

Good yes, but not up to your artistic skills. With the Tchulian fencing style that I have taught you over the past few months few men could match blades with you now, the merc assured him, as he thought, Come on, you sniveling coward, don’t try to talk yourself out of this again! It took me six months of hard work to turn you into a decent swordsman; you might make him sweat, but kill Jatar? Not a chance. If we wanted that I would have dueled with him myself.

Tysol smiled in grim anticipation. Yes, it’s been good of you to come and instruct me in the finer arts of the blade. I would have come to the Tchulian academy myself when I was younger if my father had not needed my help so much.

To which Von Dracek thought. The more probable truth is that his father was too cheap and you were too afraid, but he said, Of course, I’m sure you would have been an excellent Tchulian battle commander; perhaps we can work on that next.

I would like that, they’d call me `General Tysol, commander of conquering armies,’ it has an appealing ring to it. A battle commander like in the old days, before any of these Kirnath conspirators infiltrated the nobility to sap the strength from the warriors.

You couldn’t command the latrine scrubbers successfully, you pompous dolt, the merc thought in amusement, but said, You are correct; a battle is the only way to test a man’s true mettle. These treaties and coalitions must be halted. Each country should govern itself and control that which they are powerful enough to hold. You don’t want these Kirnath, or anyone else, taking control of Datoria away from you, milord, correct?

Of course not, nor would I permit them in the first place! Kirnath healers are turned away at our borders and hung if found within illegally! No, I must make a stand against their tyranny! Lord Jatar must be released from the control of this foul sorceress. He lives as a shell of what he was because of that woman’s control, but I will set him free so that he may die like a man. I will give him salvation, a warrior’s honorable death in battle. And, as he coughs out his last breath on my sword, he will thank me for setting him free at last. Lord Tysol spoke in oratory fashion with a fanatic’s bright gleam in the depths of his eyes as he gazed off to nowhere. After a moment, he raised his glass to toast with the mercenary.

Major Von Dracek raised his goblet to meet Tysol’s and his thoughts were masked behind a face of stone. The sooner I am done with your supreme stupidity the better. If Jatar doesn’t kill you then I will enjoy the pleasure. He smiled at the Lord of Datoria as they drank, but his slight smile was for a different reason than his companion imagined.

A servant stepped into the room and rang a small chime; the sound was high and clear as it resounded about the Hall.

Lord Jatar stepped clear of the group to which he had been speaking and addressed everyone present.

I would like to welcome you all to Lindankar's Palace for the recognition ceremony for my son, Michael, and I’d like to thank you for coming to the pre-celebration dinner in his honor. If you will all stand by your seat at the table, I will propose the traditional toast.

Lord Jatar escorted Lady Elizabeth to one end of the table and then returned to stand before his seat at the opposite end.

Without the guests knowing, Elizabeth concentrated as she began to viewing their auras. She had decided to use the upcoming declaration of goodwill to find out which leaders or ambassadors bore ill will toward her husband and Lindankar.

From the table before him, Jatar took hold of his goblet. He raised it into the air and spoke the words that this traditional ceremony required. "I welcome you to this repast on the eve of my son’s official designation as heir to the throne of Lindankar. May everyone at