Free The Castrofax by Jenna Van Vleet Page B

me,”
Nolen replied. “But there is no evidence.”
    Nolen stopped short when a crippling pain
shot up his leg, through his spine, and into the base of his skull.
He crumpled to the stones with a gasp, searching for an
explanation. An attack from the Arch Mage was logical, and he
remembered he no longer held the Medallion of Unwind.
    “Damn wards,” Ryker muttered above him. “We
didn’t shift far enough. That’ll sound the alarm.” He gripped a
rough hand to the small of Nolen’s back and made a twisting motion
that drew a shuttering gasp of pain from Nolen. As soon as the man
pulled back, the sudden pain vanished.
    Nolen staggered to his feet before Ryker took
a fistful of his coat. “Listen, Princeling, I hibernated t’ avoid
the Class Tens, ac if one still exists, he is your problem, ac one
you’ll need t’ remove.” His grip loosened, and he looked away.
“Though, if y’ get your hands on him, it would save me the trouble
of fetching the Silex.” He met Nolen’s alarmed eyes. “Y’ find him,
ac I will help y’ keep him, then y’ bring me mine Silex, aye?”
    “Aye,” Nolen replied, his stony, princely
training taking over his emotions. “Yes.”
    “Good. Does anyone know you’re here? Did y’
bring a horse what can be recognized?”
    “Yes.”
    Far down the hall, the faint sound of running
boots met their ears.
    “Is the livery unchanged?” Ryker asked and
grabbed Nolen’s arm. His eyes and hair became white again. Nolen
shut his lids this time as Ryker moved them without moving. The
bootfalls vanished, and the unscented still air suddenly changed to
the aroma of hot horse and hay. His ears filled with the familiar
sounds of a stable as horses ground meal and shifted in their
stalls. Nolen’s eyes flew open as Ryker released him, and he found
himself in the livery. Somehow, Arch Mage Ryker moved them from
Westerly Motte, across the courtyard, and into the stables in the
span of a breath. ‘How far a distance can one travel this
way?’
    Ryker maintained the frightening look of
white hair and eyes, his hair wafting in an unseen wind around the
loose ends.
    “You must explain how you do that.” Nolen
whispered, his racing heart smoothing its rhythm.
    “Find your horse, ac we’ll leave. I can drop
y’ halfway t’ Kilkiny Palace, so they won’t suspect y’.” Ryker
quickly drew threads of Spirit from his chest and laid them in the
familiar cloth-pattern to alter his clothing. Rapidly, the threads
of fabric melded and moved as if a child had its hand in paint and
twisted to and fro.
    Nolen scanned the horses for Shibaler,
throwing tack on him and swinging into the saddle. Ryker finished
with his cloth change now garbed in a short dark coat speckled with
gold buttons, and long gray trousers. In their escape the lace from
his blouse disintegrated, but a reformed undershirt peeked from
under the coat. Nolen had always envied Spirit Mages who could
transform cloth in a moment. With it he could have stripped someone
naked in a second, or dress Prince Balien in a gown faster than he
could tear it off.
    Ryker put a hand on his boot, and instantly
Nolen’s vision once again changed to a blindingly bright world. The
reeling sensation that his last meal may surface lingered. Shibaler
gave a start, but Nolen reined him in to keep him steady. This time
it took a minute before Ryker released him, and the sounds of
crickets chirped his ears.
    “Autumn,” Ryker whispered and drew in a fresh
breath. In the moonlight he looked ghastly pale and wan, his skin
paper-thin. “Go on, Princeling.”
    He vanished in a twist of blackness leaving
Nolen to gather his surroundings. He heeled Shibaler east and
wondered, ‘What will be worse, finding a rumored legend Class
Ten, or releasing one?’

Chapter 6
    Secondhand Lael of Castle Jaden had a strong
reputation for being the model of calm, which was ideal for a man
in a tremulous position. Handling the Head Mage’s schedules, the
Council’s positions,