Sworn To Transfer

Ciardis nodded. “And who is his minder?”

“That doesn’t matter,” interjected an advisor to Sebastian. “What we want to know is where you found this information.”

“Where I found it?” echoed Ciardis softly, fury overtaking her every limb.

“From my brother,” she snarled. “He told me.”

“In a dream?” asked Lords Meres quickly.

Ciardis looked at him as if he’d gone nuts. “He’s here and he’s with the Shadow Mage.”

Lady Vana swore and the regiment commander wasted no time in ordering a unit to form up in search of the wayward Weathervane.

Ciardis laughed with bitterness in her tone. “I take it that surprises all of you?”

Prince Sebastian reached out a cautious hand to take hers. She moved out of his reach in seconds, distaste on her face.

“Were you planning on putting me ‘in service to the emperor?’”

“No, of course not,” were the denials shouted at her from all sides.

But she knew—she knew in her heart that it had been a consideration. But was it still? As she struggled to digest all that she had learned, Ciardis felt the weight of pain enter her heart, that all of her friends had kept something so important from her.

Sighing, Meres said, “Ciardis, it is unfortunate that you found out in this manner, but it was ongoing discussion whether or not you were to be made aware of a living sibling.”

“Since you only manifested so recently – within months in fact,” ventured Lady Vana, “Lady Serena and I deemed it best, in initial discussions with Damias, to wait until your powers were stable enough for you to meet him.”

“Stable enough?” demanded Ciardis.

“Weathervanes can feed off each other in unsettling ways,” said Meres Kinsight.

“How did he get here?” questioned Vana.

Ciardis shrugged and said flatly, “I don’t know, but I do know that the Shadow Mage controls my brother.”

“Which would explain the huge increase in power beyond the abilities of a normal mage, even one with dark gifts like a Shadowwalker,” said Lady Vana.

“We will have to make inquiries in the North,” stated Prince Heir Sebastian. “This should never have happened. His minder is stationed on the border and needs him to help with the war.”

Ciardis noted that she had began to feel ill over the past few minutes. Like her stomach was upset and she wanted to throw up. Maybe it was something she had eaten?

Sharp-eyed, Alexandra asked her, “Is something wrong, Ciardis?”

“No, nothing,” she murmured, not wanting to be distracted from the topic at hand.

“If you’re unwell you need to tell us,” said Maree Amber.

“I did tell you—” protested Ciardis hotly.

“Enough with these secrets,” snapped Meres. “The girl should know. Forewarned is forearmed.”

Turning to Ciardis, he said, “We mentioned that Weathervanes affect each other in different ways. One of those effects is inducing mild illness—like a stomach ailment—when one Weathervane feels the other conducting magic. If you feel ill it could be because your brother is nearby and is acting as an enhancer or conduit for someone else’s power.”

Alarm flashed across Alexandra’s face.

Ciardis nodded, not wanting to betray the brother she never knew, but knowing that anything he did was being controlled by an outside force. “My stomach is ill.”

Maree and Vana cursed and sent out their own magic feelers. They quickly sounded an alarm and soldiers started converging. But whatever they felt also felt them, because it triggered a magic trap.

Without warning they were all transported in the shadows. When they could orientate themselves again, Ciardis saw that they were in a sunny field not far away from the village of Borden. She looked to her friends and counted off who was there: Sebastian, Stephanie, Christian, Vana, Meres, ten of the Prince Heir’s guard, Alexandra, Maree, and, Ciardis noted with surprise, someone new—a man with pitch black hair and a tall, gangly body.

“Everyone all right?” called Prince Heir Sebastian. Everyone confirmed with various nods and affirmations.

“Where the hell are we?”

“I think I can answer that,” a male voice said. As they all turned to view the speaker whose voice had startled them, many pulled out the weapons that they had. But when they turned to the eastern fields where the voice had come from, there was no one there. As they began to spread out in a tense circle to locate the person, Vana Cloudbreaker held up a closed fist, edging forward into the planted stalks of the gently blowing fields of wheat. She was looking around with both of her sights—magical and mundane.

Ciardis saw something interesting rise up from Vana when she called upon her mage core; it was like an orb with a thunderstorm of purple in it. Misty purple clouds and streaks of purple lightning fought to free themselves from the bubble as it rose in the air. And then it burst, sending the lightning and mist scattered in different directions. When it headed farther east, it struck something curious—a bubble—and like the cling of a sweater after it has been rubbed on polished wood, the purple lightning and mist clung to the new object, spreading like water over its surface.

“Very good,” said the voice again as they dropped their complex shield. Its duty completed, Vana’s conjured sightstorm of lightning and mist that had clung to the bubble dissipated.

Several individuals stood facing Ciardis’s group. None of them looked particularly friendly. Prince Heir Sebastian’s guard stepped forward to face the threat.

Ciardis squinted in the bright sun and swore. Was that who she thought it was? What in all the gods’ names was the Weather Mage doing here?

The Shadow Mage in the lead smiled a cold smile at Prince Heir Sebastian and the small retinue that stood around him. He had an uncanny resemblance to the strange, stork-like man who stood to their side.

“And who are you?” asked Prince Heir Sebastian with ice in his tone.

“Milord Prince Heir,” said the Weather Mage from the man’s left with sweat dripping from his brow, “may I present Lord Kastien?”

“Lord Kastien of?” said Meres Kinsight in a dangerously soft tone. To strangers he might sound as if he were at just another dinner party, but Ciardis didn’t miss the tight grip he had on his dagger and the surge of power she felt coming from him.

“Borden,” said the addressed man simply.

At that moment everyone turned to look at the tall, gangly man standing by Alexandra, Meres with more suspicion than all of them.

“What is the meaning of this, Darius?” demanded Prince Heir Sebastian.

“I don’t know, Milord,” the man called Darius said with more aplomb than Ciardis would thought him capable of. “But I intend to find out.”

He strode forward, breaking ranks, ignoring the protests from Vana and Maree. As Ciardis watched him approach the man who could almost be his twin, she looked for her brother among the figures. He wasn’t there. Where was he? She didn’t want him at the Shadow Mage’s side but the alternative meant that he was probably back in the encampment of soldiers.

Why would the Shadow Mage only transport such a select few?

She took in the Weather Mage’s form. He looked worse than the day that she and Linda Firelancer had first met him. His form shook where he stood and sweat poured down his face.

Then he turned to look directly at her. Even with the distance between them she could see his eyes. They were black.

“Oh no, oh, for the ever-loving gods, no,” she said with her voice rising.

Julius turned aside partially, his body still primed for a battle in front of them, and muttered caustically, “What?”