Chapter Seven

The Master's cold blue eyes snapped open, and he slowly rose to his feet, casting shadows across his chambers. The heavy wooden door to his chamber opened on its own accord as he strode down into the torch lit halls. Guards stiffened to attention as he approached and bowed submissively until he was out of sight. Flames danced over their armour and gleamed off the walls. Striding through a door with symbols in an ancient and almost forgotten language above its frame, he stepped off the stairwell. The obsidian cape he wore lifted and waved like a banner as he plummeted towards the marble floor. With a single thought, the Master's pale blue Gift halted his fall, and he landed softly on the glassy stone.

An immaculate coal robe, its only decoration ruby embroidery in a narrow band around the neck and down the front, covered his stocky frame to within an inch of the charcoal marble tiles of the floor. He wore no jewellery apart from the simple chain that banded his neck, a gleaming ring set in volcanic glass and the blade at his waist. The belt it hung on was made of the finest gold wire. Short black hair was slicked to his head, and black stubble hugged his chin in a short, sharp beard. His eyes were a painfully handsome shade of pale blue that seemed to stare into the depths of one soul. His features would have set off his eyes perfectly were it not for the scar across his left eye.

The Master carried himself with the authority of the gods and walked unafraid down, deeper into the earth in the heart of the castle. This was his domain. Ravenous beasts growled as he approached the room at the end of the darkness, a shadow room seemingly darker than death itself. Tooth and claw, the occasional gleam of an eye met him as he reached the door, and, with a scream the beasts, savage beyond comprehension launched themselves at him. A pale muscular wrist flicked up, and a wall of blue hit the animals, which howled and backed away. Speaking in a harsh language that commenced deep within his throat, the Master ordered his creations back to the shadows.

Reaching the room, he walked through the archway that, in the same dead and powerful language as the doorway before, ordered the spirits to give way. Summoning his Gift until its blue flames surrounded his fingers, he cast it over the archway and streaks of blue wound their way like vines through the shadows until they retreated. The Master grunted and then walked into the centre of the earth.

The room was stark in contrast to the path it took to get to it. White granite covered the entire room, from the pillars laced with gold, to the floor tiles with silver gracing the cracks and the single smooth column that blended into the room. The room itself was as perfect as a crescent moon, obviously magic created, with only a slight rounded shadow distorting the half pillar from the rest of the white. Gems over every colour seemed to float on the roof, smaller ones getting larger as they approached the centre where a vast diamond pulsed with power, an epicentre for the magical jewels surrounding it.

Heat greeted him in waves. His magic immediately shimmered over his skin, protecting him from the heat and enabling him to breathe. Grunting once again, this time in discomfort, the Master made his way to the pedestal and sat himself in meditation. Closing his eyes, the master began to breathe slowly, without hesitation surrendering to the call of raw power from the gems that surrounded him. Summoning his Gift in a beam of power, he sent all his magic spiralling towards the diamond directly above him. The diamond's aura glowed pale blue for mere seconds before shooting rays directly into the stones around it. The magic twisted slowly around every stone until they had an inner glow of blue.

The Master began to speak in a language forgotten by even the gods, his voices, mental, magical and physical joined together to roar out instructions. Seeping his being into the magic, the Master stretched across the world, sinking himself into every crevice that graced the earth's surface. Like a Kraken, he released his tentacles until all the life forces of the creatures below the stars and above his residence flicked in his inner vision. Those with the Gift burned brighter than others, and those with Great gifts, such as the great black robe mages glowed in his mind.

Calling to the power to take a form, the Master sent a probe in search for the one who had called for him. The magic shook itself and raised its wings in salute before gliding as an invisible shadow across the oceans, mountains and deserts. Shrinking, it came to perch above a channel of power, one of the many in the world, in Tusaine.

Sending his being flowing through the magic, he travelled the veins of power within the earth to come to stand below the Tusaine funnel. Shooting up it, he hovered to gain a bearing of his surroundings. One of his slaves knelt bowed towards the power, muttering phrases in the ancient language over and over again. Calling forth the magic to shape him, he stepped forward, in front of the slave.

The slave jerked before bowing even deeper and whispering, "Master, I serve until my destruction", before staying respectfully silent.

The Master nodded, pleased with the slave's reaction. "What is it you wish, slave?" he asked harshly, enjoying the way the slave quivered as he answered.

"There may be a complication in the mission, Master."

The Master stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"And how might that be?" he demanded of the shuddering slave before him. Deciding he was above waiting for an answer, he drove his mind into that of his slave's. The slave had been trained well, as were all slaves sent into the field. The slave could shield the magnitude of his Gift, and disguise his powerful mind behind that of an in-competent fool. Though his strength was minute compared to that of his Master and his mind barriers caved under a single blow.

The slave cringed away from him in pain, though did not fight back, knowing the consequences would be vast should he be anything but a submissive slave. A face swam into view and the Master saw though the slave's eyes. A young girl with eyes of lavender fields and a mane of fire was standing over a mage with his hand raised in a begging gesture. There was a crack of a whip, and the girl immediately moved to escape its lash. She was seconds too late, and she jerked as the whip lashed across her back. Following her jerk was a sharp snap, as the wrist of the mage she was holding broke as she flinched away from the whip.

Withdrawing from the slave's mind, the Master lowered his mind over Tusaine, searching until he found the girl. He paused briefly in surprise. A god's chosen! Examining her with his inner mind, he saw her Gift flared and strained against her skin, seeming in search of an escape. A questioning thought came from the Gift as he gently touched it and then he stood in shock as it unsheathed its claws and took a swipe at him. The girl herself looked up from where she was peeling potatoes and looked around her cautiously, feeling something had upset her but not knowing what it could be.

The single taste of her Gift and the Master knew what this one was.A lioness, he thought as he returned to the slave. The slave looked up at him, itching to move though not daring to do so. Examining the slave, he said. "She should not pose a threat." He thought back to the girl's gift's reaction, and added, "However, should she get in the way of the mission, I trust you to remove her from the equation."

The slave nodded and bowed again. "Master."

The Master sunk his being back into the magic and withdrew his threads until his magic was once again inside him, and the power of the earth was untainted, ready to be called upon and used at his will. Opening his eyes, he slowly got to his feet, used to taxing endeavours such as the one he had just done. Every time he dove into the earth's power, the wild raw and seductive magic that fabricated life, he felt his grip on reality slipping. The need to return to hisown body seemed insignificant to the call of the wild magic. The only reason the Master had remained on the throne of his home was because he had restraint, though only when it came to the raw magic. However, it seemed he was using it for irrelevant tasks that did not require it, such as contacting a slave halfway across the world.

Yes, the Master decided, he would have to be very careful and not lose himself to the call as so many of his peers, former superiors, and slaves had done.

Queen Lianne watched as her son danced smoothly around the floor, the court beauty Lady Delia of Eldorne hanging on his arms. Lianne sighed- subtly of course. She had noticed the way her son had deteriorated ever since his squire had been banished. She was sure her husband, the king knew also. Even the castle staff gossiped as to the possible reasons of the prince's deterioration.

It was a well-known fact the prince had become withdrawn, often drinking himself to sleep. He attended his classes, as a prince should, but Lianne knew he did it only because it was expected of him. He had also remained stony and cold toward his father, bordering on being rude. At balls, such as the one tonight, he would stay only for as long as protocol demanded before excusing himself.

Lianne shifted in her seat and slowly brought a crystal glass to her mouth. As she took a dainty sip, she noticed through the glass another watching her son. Sir Myles. The grey-eyed knight was sipping from his own wine glass and watching as Jonathan bowed to another lady before twirling her around the floor. His movements were sluggish and he seemed to have to force himself to move. Myles looked thoughtful, and as the lady hastened away from the stony prince, his eyes narrowed and he nodded to himself.

The queen saw this, and, though she was beginning to feel fatigued, she made a decision. Her eyes fluttered weakly, and Duke Baird noticed. He excused himself and wound his was through the dancing nobles towards her. With a bow, he told her she should rest. Lianne looked at him for a moment before nodding and slowly but gracefully rising to her feet. The king glanced over at her, worried but caught up in watching his son with a frown on his face. She smiled to show she was well and allowed Baird to accompany her to her chambers.

Sitting gracefully down, her skirts spreading as was appropriate, she asked the duke if he would fetch Sir Myles for her. The duke nodded and bowed, curiosity in his eyes as he walked out of her and her king's rooms.

Lianne was dozing when there was a knock at the door. "Come in," she called softly and Duke Braid bowed, followed by Sir Myles, as they both entered the room.

"Please sit." She gestured with a feminine hand to two chairs. Myles nodded and sat down in the chair; Braid hesitated for a moment but then joined him at her insistence.

Gathering her thoughts, she slowly spoke. "I would like it that none of what we discuss ever leaves this room." Myles and Baird exchanged a glance before nodding. "I have noticed my sons seems-" Lianne hesitated before continuing, "different."

"Ever since that girl, his squire, was banished he has been acting strange." Lianne stopped, and the looks on Myles' and Baird's faces told her they knew what she was talking about.

Duke Braid nodded and leaned forward. "Yes, he seems to be-"

"Heartbroken," Myles cut in and raised an eyebrow when the Qqeen and duke looked to him with disbelief in their eyes.

Clearing his throat, the duke requested, "Please continue that train of thought, Sir Myles."

Myles blinked, and nodded his hands before him, he to leaned in. "I am going to assume you have been heartbroken?" he asked of no one in particular. "The symptoms are fairly easy to determine." He glanced at the queen for permission to continue talking. When she nodded, he continued, "The dejected walk, shoulders hunched, lifeless eyes. To lose a lover is to despair." Myles ignored the semi-horrified look on the queen's face as he went on, "To lose a friend causes one's soul to wander aimlessly in the shadows, searching in the silence." At his words, Queen Lianne leaned back in thought, and the duke looked at Myles with respect in his eyes.

Moistening his lips Duke Baird asked, "So, he is deeply upset his best friend is presumed dead?"

Myles looked at the duke and frowned.

"I know that that is what was assumed, but I have taught Alanna, as have many of the realms finest. I, personally, do not believe she is dead."

The Queen blinked and wiped sleep from her eyes.

"Your Majesty, you must rest." Duke Baird said worriedly, rising to his feet.

Lianne frowned at the palace's chief healer and shook her head.

"Not until I can help my son," she snapped, though politely of course. The duke sighed and resumed his seat. "I do not like the way Jonathan has been treating Roald," she continued in a softer voice. "I know he blames his father for Alanna's banishment, but he was the one who turned her in."

Myles nodded and stroked his beard in thought. "The prince has my class tomorrow. I will be sure to talk to him. Alanna came to talk to me, perhaps Jonathan will also." He blinked. "Though if he requests it, I will not divulge the content of our conversations."

Baird was nodding and said to the Queen, "Myles is right. I believe it fair if Jon asks his conversations to remain private, they should remain so, though I am sure Sir Myles would inform us immediately if Jon were to consider harming himself or others."

At this, the queen looked appalled, but she nodded her agreement anyway.

"Thank you," she said before rising, Myles and Baird hastening to do the same. "I bid you good night."

The dismissal was clear, and Sir Myles and Duke Baird bowed their way out, leaving the queen to ponder the content of this night's conversation.

The man's long strides took him further into the room, and he paused after shutting the door and securing the catch. Cocking his head, he watched the woman at the window plane, leaning out into the night, a peaceful expression on her face. Loath to interrupt her peace, but needing to hold her, he paced forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. Nuzzling her neck, he inhaled her scent as she leaned back into him.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he whispered, his breath warm on her ear. "That meeting took forever."

"That's fine," she said with a smile. "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder." The man laughed softly as she turned to look up at him."I have to get up early. I should go to bed."

The man felt his face heat; he had not sat for three hours in a stuffy room just to come to an empty bed! Laughing softly, the woman leaned up to kiss him, and he pulled her tighter, deepening the kiss, forgetting he had begun to get annoyed.

Shuffling forward, he sat her on the windowsill and kissed her. After kissing her fervently for a few moments, the man pulled her into the room as she removed her clothes. His own were tossed to the floor seconds later, and she went and sat on the bed, looking up at him with desire in her eyes.

Gesturing with an index finger, she let him press her onto the bed as she ran her fingers threw his hair. Gazing into her amethyst eyes, he whispered, "I love you, Alanna of Trebond." The woman smiled at him again, a small special smile and in response reached up to kiss him passionately.

Queen Lianne of Conte swiftly sat up in bed, panting breathlessly. Next to her, her husband lay, sleeping like a child. Pulling back her sheets she sat up and her bare feet padded across the carpeted floor to a small washroom. Leaning in front of the mirror, she splashed water on her face to wake herself up. Patting her flesh with a towel, she gazed at her own reflection.

She had known her son for all of his young life. She had comforted him when he was afraid of the dark and wiped his tears away when he fell of his horse for the first time. It had been four moon cycles since Alan of Trebond, or Alanna, the prince's famed squire had been banished from Tortall. It had been a week short of that when they received word of the mare returning rider-less and bloodstained to the castle. And Lianne never knew. She never knew her son was in love. And now, instead of feeling joy for her son, all she felt was pity. He now believed he had killed his best friend and lover.

Thinking back to it, ever since the Drell valley battle with Tusaine, Jonathan had been less interested in the ladies of the court and often opted to spend more time with his squire. It was not looked upon as strange; everyone knew they were good friends. Now Lianne realized exactly what he had been getting up to with his squire, she felt a moment of betrayal, for she would have liked to know her son was in love. Even though logically it would never have turned into a marriage, the nobles would have a fit.

Sighing, she replaced her towel and walked back to her bed, electing to speak to her son as soon as possible.

Authors Note:

Wow, that really wasn't supposed to happen. Stupid bloody Alanna wasn't interested in doing what I wanted her to! Ohwell, I guess that's just why I love her. But it is so annoying!

Anyway, as always review! I need some more people, I cant write without them!

Enchanted Bunny: Thank you. Thank you very much. But what exactly do you like?

MeepaHorsegirl: Yay for George! But I cant tell you! Your just going to have to wait to find out. Raku, well he's…. Different…

spazzysassyangel: Naturally! :D

starlock: Hi, dont think I have seen you before. Welcome. Ill work on it.

Novus Ars: Maybe, maybe not. ;) No she still has her magic, as you found out.

kill4blood: ;) I'll never tell. Yay! That made my day to read that! Tell your friends ( I want more reviews, or even readers)

Also, anyone willing to Beta for me, let me know. I just want my gramma looked at. Its terrible, I know Preferably someone who doesn't like my Fan-fic. I don't want to spoil the story for them.

^^^^^I'm not desperate so don't rush, that's why I haven't gone looking for one :D^^^^^^^^