Suriax (18 page)

“Word is there have been a lot of challenges
in the past few months,” Eirae confirmed, “but those were just
minor annoyances, not any substantial threats as of yet. Make no
mistake, this is about you. Stopping those other challenges is just
a bonus.”

“What about you guys? Are you worried about
her acquiring so much territory with this marriage of hers? She
could use it against you.”

“We are of differing opinions, but she may be
too busy with other issues to worry about us. Recent reports from
the southern plains have been troubling. I think she might have
gotten in over her head on this one. Of course, that is her
problem. Have you considered the military appointment we offered
you?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m sure you
can find someone better qualified in your own ranks.”

“We would not have offered you the position
unless we thought you could handle it.

He sipped on his mead. “I’m not really the
leader type. Besides, if I were to accept, everyone would think it
was nepotism, and any subordinated I had would be bitter about it.
I know it would damage your credibility and cause a lot of
unnecessary problems. It’s not worth it.”

Eirae didn’t argue with any of his points. He
accepted his own cup of mead and took a drink. “What will you do
then?”

Kern couldn’t think of an answer. Eirae
finished his drink, put some money on the counter and motioned to
the door. “Come with me.”

After asking Frex to wait at the bakery, a
request he was more than happy to comply with, they walked past the
theater district to a small park. The focal point of the park was a
stone fountain statue of a woman reading. Her eyes were on the book
in her hand. Her other hand was by her head, entwined in her hair,
flowing as though caught in the wind. The talent of the carver was
unmistakable. Kern recognized the woman easily as his mother. The
book was a perfect choice. He didn’t remember much about her, but
he remembered she loved to read. On every visit she would bring new
books. When he was very young, she would read them to him. Eirae
leaned against the railing surrounding the fountain and stared up
at it. “We had the fountain put in just after her death.” Kern
looked at him in surprise. Clean, with sparkling, clear water
around it, the statue looked brand new. “She died on this spot.
There were once buildings here. There was a small bookstore she
loved over on the corner. A riot broke out over a bad ruling from a
judge. A man killed a robber in self defense. The only problem was
the judge was the brother of the dead man. When the defendant was
sentenced to die, appeals were sent to our father. He could have
overturned the ruling, but he had interests in another case that
same judge was overseeing. He agreed to let the ruling stand if the
judge ruled the way he wanted on that other case. The judge’s home
was a block from here. The day the man was executed, rioters burned
the home to the ground with the judge inside. The riot spilled over
this way. There was a bench here where she would sit and read.
Someone recognized our mother and killed her as retribution for
Veritan’s actions. We had the fountain put in to remind us of the
good times she had here and of the importance of our work.” He
turned to look at Kern. “Our destinies were forged on that day. No
matter what we may disagree on, we know it is our responsibility to
keep anything like that from happening here again. Everyone has
something or someone they are responsible for in this life. You
have to find out what that something is for you.”

“How?”

“Once you find it, you’ll know.”

Kern gave a long glance back at the statue
before following Eirae back to the bakery.

* * *

Lynnalin flipped through the many scrolls and
tomes on her table and took notes. Suriax’s magical awakening gave
her new ideas for possible spell applications as of yet unexplored.
Given the right combination of words and materials she could be on
to some really useful spells. Already, the Cleric Guard was
developing new fire protection spells to imbue in the homes and
personal belongings of the citizens. She couldn’t let the magi be
outdone by a bunch of clerics. She was fourth decade after all.
Most students stopped much earlier in their studies to go
adventuring or took their basic magical knowledge and applied it to
some practical profession in the city. There was a certain degree
of arrogance involved, as well. Semi-powerful magi began to feel
there was nothing left to learn and resisted being taught. A good
deal of the motivation came out of boredom. While sitting hunched
over old scrolls and books could be enjoyable, it took someone with
a tremendous amount of patience to keep it up for decades. Most
people were drawn to magic for the excitement and the ability to
blow people up and do flashy spells. Not that there was anything
wrong with flashy spells, but sometimes a little subtly was
required. Those who made it past the third decade understood
that.

The doors to library opened. A page looked
around anxiously, clearly uncomfortable to be there. He looked at
every mage nervously. Most regarded him with a mixture of annoyance
at being interrupted in their research and disinterest in his
presence. His eyes settled on her. She felt the quill fall out of
her hand. He walked briskly to her table, and stopped. “Lynnalin
Moesaius?” She nodded. “You are hereby summoned by the Queen.
Report immediately to the palace.” He didn’t wait for a
response.

She sat in stunned silence for several
seconds after the man left. Why would the Queen want to see her?
Whatever the reason, it was not a good idea to keep her waiting.
She stood and looked at the table. There was no time to put up
everything. Grabbing her notes, she ran from the library. She
caught up with the page as he exited the academy. They walked
without speaking to the palace. She was shown to a lavishly
decorated sitting room. Long black velvet curtains hung from the
windows. Strips of midnight blue fabric, trimmed in silver, draped
over and around the curtain rods. Candles lined every shelf and
table. A fireplace raged across the room, making it uncomfortably
warm. She contemplated sitting on one of the ornate sofas or
chairs, but she was too anxious to sit. Walking over to the far
wall, she busied herself looking at the many books displayed there.
Some were history, of Suriax and the continent. There were a few
fiction novels, mostly folklore related. The majority of the books
were practical in nature. Topics ranged from architecture to botany
to magic. A person could spend years, lifetimes learning all these
subjects.

“So, you are the mage I’ve heard so much
about.”

Lynnalin jumped and saw Queen Maerishka
standing in the open doorway. “You’ve heard of me?” Lynnalin asked
in shock.

“Yes, my new head of military strategy,
Zanden Fiereskai, recommended you. I need a mage to accompany a
small team to investigate some activity in the southern plains.
Have you ever ridden a marenpaie?”

“Not really,” she answered honestly.

The queen nodded. Although the hounds were
often used with the military or in long distance travel, few
regular citizens had much practice riding them. “I currently have
Zanden developing some new battle techniques. The team will leave
in one month. Take that time to familiarize yourself with the
hounds.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

Lynnalin rushed back to the academy. One
month. There was much to do.

* * *

“You don’t have to go.”

“I do,” Kern said, picking up his bag and
slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m not cut out for palace life. I
always wanted to travel, to see the continent. I think I’ll finally
do that.”

Mirerien nodded and gave him a heartfelt hug.
“We will miss you, brother. Please remember, you will always have a
home here.”

“Thank you.”

“Here,” Eirae handed Kern a dark blue cloak.
It was well made and appeared very durable, but not fancy enough to
draw unwanted attention on his travels. “We had it commissioned for
you. It is laced with several spells that should help you on your
journeys. While you wear it, should you require any healing, minor
injuries will automatically begin to heal. Also, should it be lost
or stolen, it will return to you on the following day.”

“That’s incredible.” Kern couldn’t believe
the generosity of such a gift. He held the fabric delicately in his
hands.

“We thought you could use something to keep
warm, since you burned your other coats.” Mirerien grinned.

Kern couldn’t help grinning back. It was
fitting that his jackets, symbols of his old life and service to
Venerith, were now useless piles of ash and fabric. “You know, my
jacket and shirt burned, but that scarf our mother made didn’t
burn.”

“Mother used to put fire protection spells on
all our clothing,” Pielere explained. “It was one way she showed
her displeasure at father’s worship of Venerith. That in mind, we
had a fire protection spell placed on this cloak, as well.”

“This is too much.” Kern was overwhelmed. He
was no stranger to magical items, but this was more than he ever
though himself worthy of.

“That’s not all.” Pielere grinned. “If you
put the hood up and whisper ‘home,’ it will teleport you here.”

Kern didn’t know what to say. Instead, he
gave each of his brothers a warm handshake and gave Mirerien
another hug. That just left one more thing to do. Going to his
uncle’s quarters, he smiled at the sight of children running
around, playing and laughing. His uncle looked a hundred years
younger, now. Around his neck, he wore the scarf. Kern smiled. He
almost hated to interrupt, but Frex caught sight of him and came
over. “You are leaving, then?”

“Yes, for now. I’ll be back often to visit. I
just need to get out of here for a while and figure out where to go
from here. But I want you to use that ring I gave you to call me if
you need anything. I’ll be back in a flash.” He held up his cloak
to accentuate his promise. They hugged warmly. Kern could see Frex
was sad to see him go, but after hours of discussing it, he knew he
understood and supported his decision.

“Where will you go?” Frex asked. It was the
one thing they hadn’t discussed, mainly because Kern didn’t have an
answer.

“Don’t know, yet.”

“Have you considered the mountains?” Thomas
leaned against the doorway, his arm around Marcy. They smiled.

“That is where we are headed.” Marcy looked
lovingly up at Thomas.

Kern felt a reflexive stab of jealousy, but
it was quickly gone as he looked at the happy faces of his two best
friends. “Sure,” he put his arms around them, leading them outside.
“The mountains sound good.”

# # #

Author’s Note:

“Suriax” is the first of many stories from the world
of Ondar. Also coming soon is A.D. McLain’s next book in her Spirit
of the Wolf Series. Be on the lookout for “Wolf of the Future.”

About the
Authors

Amanda Young
(a.k.a. A.D. McLain) is a
writer of Paranormal Romance (specifically werewolf romances) and
Fantasy.

Having completed her first story at the age
of twelve, Amanda knew at an early age that writing was her
passion. She attended South Jones High School in Ellisville, MS and
graduated from the University of New Orleans in 2003 with a degree
in English.

She currently resides in Louisiana, where she
is married to her soulmate, Raymond. They married in a magical,
Renaissance themed wedding ceremony in 2006 and had their first
child in May 2008. They welcomed their second son in 2011.

Raymond Young Jr.
was
born in New Orleans, LA. He lived in St. Bernard Parish, East of
New Orleans for over 20 years before moving to Covington, LA in
2005 following Hurricane Katrina. Ray graduated from the University
of New Orleans in January 2006 with a degree in Geology, but he has
also been an artist for most of his life. You can see his art
at
www.goblinjester.webs.com