Empire of Man

Lindowyth Von Meridian, an Imperial Magus of the second Line of Inheritance, picked her way delicately along the rough path to the healer’s cottage, avoiding potholes and bumps deliberately without looking as if she was. Behind her, two of the larger soldiers from their group followed with far less grace or dignity. She resisted the urge to chuckle as one stepped in a barely visible hole she had easily avoided, but lost the urge nearly immediately as she remembered why she had those two men with her.

Though mages of both genders were generally taller and larger than the average human, her pixy heritage resulted in a slim girlish figure, auburn hair with the luster of sunset, and bright violet eyes that could glow like the clouds in the planet’s rings when her emotions ran high. This had always been a problem for her. Not the glowing eye’s part. The rest of it.

From the outside, she knew that there were many women who envied her power, prestige, and ability to eat anything and everything without ever gaining an ounce. But with men, magic-blind human men who couldn’t sense how dangerous she was, oh with men her small size was an issue. It made her less intimidating than the other female mages. It made them think that they could treat her with less respect.

Because she looked small and young, they felt they could patronize her and disrespect her more than they might do with other women. Her abnormally small size for a mage made those who didn’t know her question the validity of her rank and station. Men, like the kind that inhabited nearly every corner of this Creators’ Be Damned village, thought that her small size would make her an easy victim. More than once she’d had to use force, not just physical force, but magical force to dissuade these kinds of men and she wasn’t shy about ending the ones who wouldn’t see reason.

Her escort wasn’t for her protection. It was so the first man whose unshielded mind she couldn’t help reading wasn’t burned alive with mage fire for any impure thoughts they might be having. They can’t help their thoughts. That was what Wroth had cautioned her. But they could burn for all she cared. Damn their souls to the fires of the Northern Wastes.

That was why she’d been given Lyla-guard-duty though, wasn’t it? She wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone just because they were a civilian. And Prince Rengard – no. Lan. Lindy had to remember that she needed to refer the prince as Lan while they were traveling so far abroad from the capital. That love-sick idiot wasn’t going to leave Lyla’s side unless someone seriously badass was watching over her.

Knowing that her fellow soldiers, mages, and especially her commanding officer thought of her as ‘badass’ brought a smile back to her face. She’d earned the reputation the hard way, through fighting. But right now, it was the prince’s opinion that mattered.

Lindowyth knew they were at the right home, not just because it was the end of the path, but because she could sense Prince – damn she’d done it again – Lan’s rock-steady aura within the building. The man was like a fricking glowing boulder, both physically and magically, and she was dumbfounded that he’d ever been permitted to take the soldier’s training track rather than put through mage’s training for his ten years of service.

At the very least, he should have undergone some vigorous control classes since anyone with even the slightest magical sense would be able to ‘see’ and ‘feel’ him from miles away. Not suitable for stealth at all, that one. She paused before the door to straighten her uniform and gave her escorts a quick glare for them to do the same.

As she did so, she took the opportunity to ‘feel’ for whoever was also in the home with Lan. There was Caleb, his essence clear as a mountain brook, but he was nervous, more nervous than normal. The healer, of course, she was a gentle calming presence tinged with the greens and browns of human magic. And not far from Lan, she could sense Lyla, a blue-white essence of chemically suppressed ordered magical ability just waiting to blossom and unfurl into the inferno it could be.

Chemically suppressed? Poison!

Rage flared up in Lindowyth. Without bothering to knock she opened the door and let herself in. At the last moment, she had reigned herself in and not blown the door off its hinges, but she was pissed. Lyla was sweet and kind, and brave, and…and just a kid. Who and or why would anyone do this to her?

“POISON?” The door slammed against the interior wall as it opened to reveal an enraged half-pixy Magus with her hair billowing and violet eyes glowing. “Who in the Abandoned Fortresses is responsible for this?”

It was an old curse that she’d been admonished not to use again and again, people didn’t like remembering that the Necromancers had actually killed all the Gods and their cities were all empty now. Caleb rolled his eyes and sighed across the room. He was not the least bit unsettled by the jarring arrival.

“I just got Lan settled down.” He complained up to the ceiling beseeching whatever powers of fate now existed. “Why did Wroth have to send this one?” Behind the angry woman, two soldiers backed uncertainly away reaching for their weapons in case they needed to act. “You’re scaring the enlisted soldiers again Lindy.”

“I’m here because you two need to go report in and get some bloody rack time and Wroth knows I’m the only Mage that Lan is going to relinquish his vigil for.” Lan groaned and stood from his position beside a prone figure. He’d been kneeling on the floor holding the hand of the unconscious girl. From the stiff way he moved, Lindy could tell he’d been there a long time. “And I’m not scaring the soldiers. Right, George? Andrew?”

The short little Mage turned toward her escorts who nodded in agreement while obviously leaning back away from her. Caleb snorted and arched an eyebrow. Then shaking his head, he stood to leave.

“Did someone at least unpack my horse for us or are we going to have to – ” Before The young duke could finish his sentence, Lindowyth answered him.

“Don’t worry. We got your tents all setup and seen to your mounts also.” Lindowyth assured her fellow soldier. “Wroth just wanted to make sure that there was time to stabilize Lyla. And…to make sure most of the villagers were in their beds out of sight before Lan had to leave her side.”

“They’re a bunch of sexist pricks, aren’t they?” Caleb asked nonchalantly as he headed for the door, an exhausted and worried Lan trailing behind him glancing back with concern at Lyla.

“Big time.”

“Called it. Didn’t I call it? I told you back when Lyla revealed that she didn’t want to come home that they were going to be a bunch of dick-waving assholes.” He was stopped right in front of her as he continued his tirade. “But, Fionna and George, you two…” He glanced over Lindowyth’s shoulder and eyed George’s mustachioed self.

“…you two were all ‘Nah, it’s just teen angst and wanderlust. She just wants to explore.’” He pointed back into the candle-lit room at the prone feverish, sweat-drenched girl on the bed near the fireplace.

“You owe me thirty gold each because I won this bet, though I wish I hadn’t…” The words were emphasized with a smacking of one hand into the palm of the other.

“…And I would bet you that she knew, she knewthat this was probably going to happen to her if she made it back alive and she came anyway out of a sense of duty. But I’m not going to make that bet and take your money again because you need to keep some of this deployment’s salary, don’t you?”

Lindowith gave him a flat look and stepped aside gesturing him out of the door with a bow. Caleb gathered his cloak and swung it over his shoulder with a flourish in a very high-brow kind of manner making Lindowith and Andrew smirk a little while George glowered with flat frustration. Lan followed more sedately as if he were both too exhausted and unwilling to leave at the same time.

“Get some rest and eat something when Wroth’s done with you. Caleb,” She called to the nobleman who had already disappeared down the dimly-lit path, “Make sure Lan eats something.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatev-ouch. Necromantic son-of-a shit pothole-filled path.” Sounds of tripping and staggering were followed by a muffled groan as Caleb hit the ground. Lan snorted wearily and almost smiled, but it didn’t pass his lips.

Lindowyth could see the turmoil within him, had seen it since the moment he’d laid eyes on the girl Lyla. She’d been there in the sunny seaside port town of Balast when the girl came through the city gate, her Courier’s case Deliverance spell sucking life from anyone who dared approach her too closely. The pixy mage had been standing in the circle around Lyla, opposite Lan when his very soul realigned itself to the wild-eyed, filthy, disheveled, and nearly skeletal young woman.

She had tried. Oh, how Lindowyth had tried to get to Lan before he did something stupid. But in the chaos, she hadn’t been able to get to him. Or maybe, it had already been too late. His accidental binding had slowed his descent, but madness was coming for him. It was a shame, Lindowyth really liked the prince.

Hiding her thoughts was easy. Her psychic and magical control was impeccable. No one would ever read Lindowyth’s thoughts without her knowledge. And none of her deep concern showed on her face as she smiled pleasantly at the departing duo while indicating George and Andrew should follow her into the cottage with a jerk of her head.

“Hello there.” She greeted the healer merrily with a clap of her hands. “How about a nice cup of hot tea while you catch me up to speed? I hope you don’t mind…” and reaching into her cloak she pulled a leather satchel tied with a thin slice of leather “…but just to make sure none of us are poisoned, I brought my own leaves for steeping.”

The healer cackled and pointed to a kettle hung near the fire.

“But did you bring your own cups?” The Magus smiled and furrowed her brow at the question.

“Hmm…no.” Then she brightened. "But it’s really good tea."