Mageborn 05 The Final Redemption

  Perhaps Penny would help me, I thought suddenly. With that thought came a rush of feelings, along with an unbidden fantasy… kissing her. My experience with Myrtle had been unexpected and overwhelming. What if I could control myself? The thought brought with it a powerful desire, a terrible craving. I knew then what would happen. My feelings would overpower my senses. My desire for my wife, more than anyone else, would be compounded and corrupted by my need for human aythar. Touch her and there will be no stopping.

  I clenched my jaw in frustration. For her safety, as well as my children’s, I would have to stay away from all of them. As long as I exist—as long as there are shiggreth, they will never be safe. There could be only one outcome, and it wouldn’t be a happy one, at least not for me. The only good news was that my friends and family already thought of me as dead, so at least they wouldn’t suffer any additional trauma at my passing.

  There were still several obstacles in my path however. First and foremost being Mal’goroth himself, the dark god had to be dealt with before I could allow myself to rest. Millicenth and Doron also needed a permanent resolution of some sort; otherwise I’d be leaving my friends and family at their mercy.

  They were created to serve mankind, not threaten it, I thought to myself. Memories began surfacing as I followed that observation to its source. No longer bound by my fear of the past I searched for the information I knew had to be locked within. Thillmarius had said that his people created their gods, but that was only the beginning. We followed their example and created our own—but when?

  That question brought an image forth in my mind, a woman’s face, one I recognized, Moira Centyr. I had never seen her human face in life, but one of my ancestors had. She was beautiful, I noted, comparing her mentally to my daughter. The resemblance couldn’t be denied. The gods couldn’t have been created without her family’s special gift.

  I began following a chain of ideas and thoughts, ideas that had led to many conversations between Moira Centyr and the man she had loved centuries before, the ancestor I had been named after.

  Chapter 4

  The Countess di’Cameron sat in her study, staring out the window that illuminated the small writing desk. She was in Albamarl, staying at the Illeniel house. The Thornbears had planned a visit to see Rose’s parents, the Hightowers, and Dorian’s mother, Elise Thornbear. Lady Thornbear had taken up residence in the capital recently, to remain near her close friend, the Queen.

  Rather than stay in Cameron alone, Penny had chosen to make the trip with them, offering the use of her house while in the capital. In reality however, she simply hadn’t wanted to be alone. Rose had a house of her own in Albamarl, but she had chosen to stay with Penny anyway, on the pretext that Gram preferred to enjoy time with Moira and Matthew.

  All of them understood the truth however; no one wanted Penelope spending much time alone.

  They had made the trip using the World Road, which had been operating steadily for nearly a year now. They could have had one of the Prathions transport them directly, but Penny had preferred to make the trip using the road, possibly for nostalgic reasons. The majority of their travel had consisted of a half day’s ride from Washbrook to Lancaster, where one of the entrances to the World Road was located, followed by a short ride from there to the capital itself.

  A noise from downstairs told her that Rose and Dorian had probably returned. Peter arrived at the door of the study a minute later to confirm her suspicion. “The Thornbears have returned, my lady, along with a guest, Lord Stephen, son of Earl Balistair,” he informed her.

  “What?” snapped Penny, “I specifically told that woman I didn’t want any visitors.” By ‘that woman’ she was referring to Rose.

  Peter merely pursed his lips, there was no good reply to her statement, nor was one desired.

  “Tell them I will be down in a few minutes, I wasn’t prepared to receive a guest,” she added in a flat tone. In truth though, her attire was perfectly acceptable and she had no reason to delay. She simply needed a moment to collect her thoughts and control her irritation.

  When she finally appeared downstairs over fifteen minutes had passed, a delay that most would consider rude without good cause, especially when the guest was a nobleman. Penny didn’t care. She found them sitting in the front parlor, sipping tea and eating the dry, thin cakes that were popular as snacks in Albamarl.

  Dorian and Rose sat together on the divan, across from Lord Balistair. Despite his occasional awkwardness in the past, Dorian looked entirely comfortable meeting with a fellow peer; he and Rose had both been raised and trained for such occasions. In contrast, while Penny’s rank in the peerage was technically greater, she had been born a commoner. She still had to expend conscious effort to appear relaxed in such company.

  Everyone stood upon seeing her. Dorian was the first to speak, “Your Excellency, please forgive the unexpected visitation. May I present Lord Stephen Balistair? He came here at my insistence.” He added those words to account for their breach of protocol; ordinarily another noble would send a card requesting an introduction before appearing unannounced.

  Penny wondered how Rose had managed to maneuver her husband into such a situation. She had no doubt regarding the true source of this unexpected guest. Her eyes appraised the young lord standing before her. Lord Stephen was lean and muscular with tanned features that spoke of extended periods of time in the training yard. He wore a sword, and the calluses on his hands told her he had spent many hours practicing with it. His bearing was military and his height was respectable, slightly above average though a bit under six feet, if Penny had been forced to guess. Almost as tall as Dorian, though definitely shorter than Mordecai, she thought to herself before wincing at the pain that observation brought.

  She stared into his blue eyes as she replied, “If what Dorian says is true, I cannot hold it against you. You are welcome in my home, Lord Stephen. Please sit.” She made a point of not offering her hand to him in greeting. Let him fawn over someone else. Penny could almost feel Rose clenching her teeth at the brusqueness of her response.

  Stephen Balistair stood awkwardly for a moment before he realized that Penny had no intention of following the ordinary rules of introduction. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, Countess,” he said, recovering his composure. “I have long been an admirer of your late-husband, if you’ll forgive me for mentioning it.”

  Penelope moved past him to take a comfortable chair that would put her farther from where the young nobleman had been sitting than any other seat in the room. “My husband had many admirers and even more enemies, you did not need to present yourself here to tell me that,” she said, rebuffing him.

  Stephen’s face flinched slightly at her cold reply, though he kept his expression respectful. Luckily, Rose came to his rescue, “Actually, we encountered Lord Stephen at my father’s house. He had come to relay news of recent disturbances near the docks. After hearing what he had to say, Dorian asked if he would be kind enough to recount his news to you personally.”

  Penny glanced at her friend’s face, trying to spot her duplicity. As always, Rose’s face was unreadable. Looking back at Lord Stephen, she noticed a glint of gold on his left hand. He’s married, she realized with an inward sigh of relief. She had felt certain this was part of some plan to begin socializing her with the eligible bachelors of the kingdom. Now she merely felt embarrassed to have been so impolite.

  “I may have been too harsh. Please overlook my remarks, Lord Stephen. I have not been myself of late,” Penny said, gesturing again for the others to take their seats.

  “Given your circumstances recently, I think I can understand something of what you’ve been through, Countess,” responded Lord Stephen.

  Penny’s embarrassment evaporated immediately. “I sincerely doubt that,” she answered, struggling to contain a more bitter response.

  Dorian’s mouth opened momentarily, as if he wanted to say something on Stephen’s behalf, but a quick nod from Rose cut him off.
When he began again a second later it was definitely on a different course, “Stephen has some news that may relate to what happened to Mordecai last year.”

  Those words drove out Penny’s subtle wonderings at Rose’s motivation instantly. If they had come from any other source she might have reacted more skeptically, but Dorian’s pain at Mordecai’s loss was nearly a great as her own. “Please explain, Lord Stephen, and be quick to the point. You have my full attention,” she commanded.

  Lord Stephen sat a bit straighter and launched into a quick explanation, “Late this afternoon an alarm was raised in the dockside district. One of the city watch discovered a man leaning over a dead woman near an alleyway. When he approached the man, the stranger straightened and pretended to request assistance.”

  “What do you mean, pretended?” she asked impatiently.

  “The guard knew him on sight having learned his appearance while working at the palace a few years back. He identified the man as the late-Count di’Cameron. Because of this, he was able to recognize his danger before the creature could get within arm’s reach of him. He retreated and used his whistle to summon aid,” explained Stephen.

  Penny’s knuckles were white where her hands gripped the arms of her chair, and she struggled to retain her composure. “Were they able to restrain the creature, or did they d—destroy it?” she asked, unable to prevent her voice from cracking slightly.

  It was a foolish question. Standard procedures called for immediate cremation of any shiggreth found, regardless of the situation. Stephen’s face reflected a deep sympathy as he went on, “No, it summoned a fog and while search parties were organized quickly, it escaped nonetheless.”

  “And the woman?” she managed.

  “Her body had disappeared as well, probably for the reasons that…,” Stephan began.

  Penny cut him off, “the reasons one would expect when dealing with shiggreth. Did anyone identify her or report someone missing afterward?”

  “Not thus far,” he replied.

  “Do you have any further news?” she questioned.

  “No, Countess, and I apologize for being the one to bring you such a painful reminder of…”

  She dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand, “My feelings are not your concern. I neither want nor need anyone’s sympathy, no matter how well intentioned. Now if you will excuse me I’d like to be alone. I’m sure you understand,” she said cutting him off in a bitter voice. She stood and started to leave the room, pausing only at the doorway, “If you do receive any more information, please do not hesitate to inform me.”

  She made it up the stairs and nearly to her bedroom before her exterior calm began to crack, first with a tremble in her breathing, followed soon after by a hot tear on her cheek. She wanted only to be alone, but Rose had followed quickly on her heels. The other woman opened the door and entered the bedroom immediately after her, without waiting for an invitation. They had been friends for many years.

  “You were rather hard on Lord Stephen,” Rose observed.

  Penny used a handkerchief to dab at her eyes before turning to answer her intrusive friend, “Perhaps you will make my apologies for me. I don’t seem to be fit for proper society these days, Rose.”

  “I do understand that, Penny. You know I do,” responded Rose, “but there are others out there who can appreciate your loss as well, if you’ll take the time to listen to them.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Penny.

  “It was pure coincidence that Lord Stephen brought the news, but the reason Dorian and I asked him to come and repeat it for you directly, is that I thought perhaps you would benefit from hearing his personal story as well. He has suffered in a similar way to what you have,” said Rose.

  Penny’s eyes narrowed, “I should have expected you had a secondary motive. Nothing is ever simple with you is it?”

  “He lost his wife a few years ago, when several shiggreth slipped into Malvern. He had to order her cremation personally. The two of you have quite a bit in common…,” Rose explained, but her words were cut short by a stinging slap.

  Penny’s hand burned from striking her friend. The action had come so quickly it surprised her, and she had barely managed to reign herself in in time to keep the speed and force of the blow from reaching potentially dangerous levels. Even so, a trickle of blood ran from the corner of Rose’s lip where a nail had torn her skin, and her face was already reddening.

  “Never Rose! Never again! Do you understand me!? I have had it with these games! If you are truly my friend, then act like it! Stop trying to maneuver me!” yelled Penelope. The rage inside her burned hotter than she could ever remember feeling before.

  Despite the pain, Rose’s face remained calm. Blood dripped from her chin as she replied, “I have never been anything but your friend, Penelope. Through fire and blood, childbirth and death, I have always supported you. One of these days perhaps you’ll pull your head out of your ass and realize that sometimes there are things more important than your loss—things like your children, your people, and possibly even the friends you are too blind to appreciate!”

  Anger and shame warred within Penny in equal portions, making it impossible to think. “Please leave,” she said at last, uttering the only words she could manage.

  Moving briskly, Lady Rose stepped out before slamming the door behind her. After she had gone, only the image of her angry blue eyes remained to haunt Penny’s mind.

  She spent the next hour struggling with the emotions that seemed to undercut every rational thought she attempted. The idea of Mordecai wandering the city as a shiggreth haunted her. How much did it remember? No one knew exactly how much of the victim’s memories remained. Over the years they had discovered that most didn’t even remember their names, having become nearly mindless creatures of pure hunger, but on a few occasions they had encountered a few that retained the ability to speak and obviously some of their memories. Those were the worst, for they sometimes fooled their former loved ones into trusting them.

  Stephen had mentioned a sudden mist, presumably summoned by the shiggreth. In the past only Timothy, the leader of the shiggreth, had possessed any magical capacity, beyond the usual life-draining abilities of his kind. If the undead one that had resulted from Mordecai’s death retained some or all of his powers—the consequences were unthinkable.

  Penny’s emotions finally settled, drifting down from anger and confusion to a more tolerable melancholy depression. She also felt embarrassed for her behavior with Rose. While she still felt her anger had been valid, her reaction had been unforgivable. I owe her an apology, she thought, grimacing.

  She went to look for her, but she could find no sign of the Thornbears. Their room was empty, and they were nowhere to be found.

  Peter confirmed her suspicion as soon as she went downstairs, “Sir Dorian and Lady Rose departed roughly a quarter of an hour ago, Your Excellency. Sir Dorian told me to inform you that they had decided to stay at Lady Rose’s city house for the rest of their stay in the capital.” The chamberlain’s eyes revealed nothing of his inner thoughts on the matter.

  “What about the guard detail?” she asked.

  “He took two of the men at arms, the rest Sir Dorian left to guard you, along with Sir Cyhan and Sir Egan, Your Excellency,” answered Peter promptly.

  “Very well, find Sir Cyhan and send him to my room,” she ordered.

  Peter’s eyebrow twitched for a moment. “Yes, my lady.”

  She stopped him, “I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself Peter, unless you would prefer another job.” Penny had had enough of other people’s opinions and judgments.

  Her chamberlain bowed crisply, “As you wish, Countess.”

  She didn’t bother acknowledging his response; she was already heading upstairs toward the bedroom. Once she had shut the door behind her she began peeling off layers of clothing, shedding her dress. As sometimes happened, her irritation had left her feeling confined and restrained, and tight clot
hing only made it worse.

  She had the dress off before Cyhan’s knock on her door.

  “You may enter,” she said promptly, while giving herself one last check in the mirror.

  The large knight entered the room quietly, shutting the door behind him before standing attentively a few feet within the room. “You sent for me Countess?” he asked, ignoring the obvious meaning of her attire.

  “I need to work off some energy,” she told him.

  “Here?” he said incredulously.

  “Where else?”

  “The room is too small, and while that might provide excellent practice in close quarters fighting, it will undoubtedly result in significant damage to the furnishings,” he replied flatly, demonstrating the point by unsheathing his sword and swinging it in a slow arc.

  Penny thought for a moment but came up blank. “There is no practice yard here, and it would be unseemly for me to practice in the street.”

  “The kitchen then,” suggested Cyhan, “It is slightly larger, and most of the furnishings and equipment there are significantly more durable.”

  It will also have the added benefit of putting Peter’s uncharitable suspicion to rest, she thought, still annoyed by the memory of his expression.

  “Very well,” she nodded, moving to the door, her chainmail rustling audibly now that its sounds were no longer dampened by the dress she had worn over it.

  “Are you still wearing your armor under your dresses,” the large warrior questioned as he followed her.

  “I only remove it to sleep, and sometimes not even then,” she replied without looking back.

  “Your safety is our responsibility,” he returned.

  “Safety is an illusion,” said Penny, “but this armor was made for me by my husband, and it’s the closest thing to safety I have left now. I will not trust my family’s protection to anyone else.” She stopped for a moment before asking, “Does that offend your pride?”

  Cyhan was slow to answer, and when he did it was with more words than she had heard him offer in quite some time. “It might bother some, but any true bodyguard would be glad. Your safety should be their primary concern.”