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Chapter Eight
Ba
The wizard swept around a corner and came to the door leading to the Mhor’s audience hall. Noered Tuorel had claimed the chamber as his own headquarters and oversaw the occupation of Shieldhaven and the progress of the war from the room. Half a dozen of Tuorel’s finest guards stood before the door. “Out of my way!” Ba
The lieutenant sketched a shallow bow. “The Baron can see you now,” he said. Ba
Tuorel glanced up, his face betraying no a
“Do you have any idea what your bungling cost me today?” Ba
Some took a step or two back, fingering the hilts of their swords. “The Mhor and his son lie dead, you idiot! All we have to show for it is one frightened girl, and she’s of absolutely no value to us as long as Gaelin remains free!”
Tuorel’s face tightened. “I don’t care for your tone of voice,” he said. “Remember your ma
“And you remember that we had a bargain, Tuorel! The Mhor was to be delivered to my hands!” Ba
“Not to me, it isn’t,” Tuorel snapped. “Instead of ru
Now, make yourself useful, or get out of my way! I’ll not be threatened, wizard.”
“Is this how you keep your word, Tuorel?”
“Ba
The wizard’s eyes narrowed. “Strange, isn’t it? I help you to take Shieldhaven, fulfilling my part of the bargain, but before you live up to your end, the Mhor and his son meet their deaths. An unfortunate coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“You’ve had them for three days and done nothing with them.”
Ba
“For what? You must be blooded, or you could not wield the sorcery I have seen you employ. And you have an impressive command of the magical arts. How much more can you want?”
“I have a debt to pay,” Ba
Tuorel folded his arms in front of his armored chest and regarded the wizard evenly. “If you must take the bloodline of the Mhorieds, you need only slay the last living Mhoried.
There are two left now: Princess Ilwyn, here in Shieldhaven, and Prince Gaelin. Your designs haven’t been thwarted, Ba
Ba
Tuorel’s eyes blazed, but he spoke quietly. “Then go get him yourself. Clearly, you’ve no further use for my cavalry. I’ll find more pressing business for those soldiers, I think. Good luck in your search for the prince.” He turned away deliberately, taking up the study of a map hanging on the wall.
Ba
How long will it take you to reduce Mhoried town by town?”
The baron didn’t turn, but he shrugged in his heavy armor.
“A few months, I would think.”
“And what will Mhoried be worth to you, if you have to rule every square foot of it with a soldier? Will the Mhoriens march under your ba
“I’ll not argue the point, Ba
“Then you’ll agree that it suits both our purposes to capture the prince as swiftly as possible.”
Tuorel eyed the wizard contemptuously. “Considering the way you’ve threatened me, I’m not sure how much longer I should trust you. But, for the sake of argument: Yes, I agree Gaelin must be captured. Do you have any suggestions?”
Ba
“That would be unacceptable. It will take long enough to pacify this land without a figure like the Mhor’s son for the Mhoriens to rally around. Even if he’s an idiot, he’ll be dangerous to me.”
“Make certain Gaelin isn’t killed, baron,” Ba
Believe me, it’s in your best interest to make certain I remain your ally. You can’t even guess at the resources I command.”
The wizard whirled in a flutter of night-black cloak and strode away, leaving a noticeable chill lingering in the air.
Ignoring hostile glares from the Ghoeran lords and officers he encountered, Ba
By sunrise, he was ready to begin. The first rays of dawn streamed into Ba
Ba
The wizard rubbed his hands together in satisfaction, and then gazed into the reflective surface. In his mind’s eye, he conjured an image of Gaelin as he had last seen him – a tall, broad-shouldered man, dark hair marked by the white streak of the Mhoried blood. As his mind brought the image to life, an identical image appeared in the pool before his eyes. The face was a little more drawn and unkempt, and the image of the pool showed Gaelin saddling his horse, preparing for the day’s journey. Behind the prince, Ba