The Castrofax

  The Castrofax

  The Father of the Fifth Age Book One

  By Jenna Van Vleet

  Edited, Produced, and Published by Writer’s Edge Publishing 2014

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition

  © 2014 by Jenna Van Vleet.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Other Books by Jenna Van Vleet

  The Father of the Fifth Age series

  The Castrofax

  Breaking Stars

  Unlocking Void

  Chasing Bloodlines

  Felling Kingdoms

  Dedicated to: Kyle Van Vleet, who knew I was crazy but married me anyway—which makes you crazier

  Chapter 1

  The flower bloomed and died and bloomed again in Gabriel’s palm. He rolled the fingers of his spare hand together as though twisting wool to yarn and watched the flower crumple inward. Its creases browned and dried as he altered the pattern until all a curled husk was all that remained. Drawing a thread of Earth energy from his chest, he spun a green string across the tips of his fingers forming his desired pattern. Snapping his wrist he fueled it to make the flower bloom again from the shriveled curls. Sighing, he repeated the motions. He was bored out of his mind.

  A pigeon had arrived at his families’ manor the day before. It brought a message stating the Queen was dead, and the daughter-heiress vanished. This gave Gabriel’s father Cordis a strange reason to bustle about the manor instructing the servants to have everything cleaned, shined, pressed, and polished. Cordis did not pause to grieve for his Queen or the loss of her heiress; instead, he set Gabriel to dust the library, which Gabriel did not do. The boy sat tucked in a dark corner of the foyer, perched on a ledge two stories above the door. It was impossible to reach without climbing across two statues and a tapestry. Cordis would not see him unless the man paused his fervid fascination with cleaning and looked. Until then, Gabriel practiced his Earth patterns and lamented the lack of entertainment.

  “Carriage on the road!” A shout came from the top floor, sending the manor into a flurry.

  “Your father will not be pleased to find you in the rafters again.” A bold voice severed Gabriel’s train of thought. Mage Dagan descended the stairs gracefully. He had pale blond hair that fell braided to his collar, and his slender frame drew into a tight line that bespoke confidence and authority. Though his tone was commanding, his lips curled into a smirk that made his eyes glitter. Several months beforehand, Castle Jaden sent him to be Gabriel’s tutor. The man had the female servants falling over themselves to get a look at his fair face, but Dagan never abused his looks and subsequently earned the respect of the household.

  Today, as all days, Dagan wore shades of green with a touch of brown spattered here and there, but this coat was extra fine with gold trimmings. The Mage was fiercely proud of his Earth Element and had never been seen without the rich colors. He stopped at the landing and clasped his hands behind his back. “Go put a coat on. Your father will not have you received in your shirtsleeves.”

  “I’m wearing a vest,” Gabriel replied and plucked at the gray braiding that wove tight designs across the black brocade.

  Dagan smiled in a manner only a father humoring a child could. “As am I.” The conversation won, he gave Gabriel a lingering glare and strode away.

  “Mage Cordis, he’s pulling in.” The doorman’s voice echoed through the foyer.

  “Get the door without me!” Cordis called back, lost somewhere down the hall. “A coat?” he asked. “Is the vest not fine?”

  Cordis strode into the foyer as proud as any noble. Gabriel’s father was a powerful Mage controlling both Earth and Water Elements, which was rare in this Age. Though he carried himself proudly, anyone who saw his face would know he was anything but. The man was handsome with wavy black hair cropped short, expressive eyebrows, and deep blue eyes. His physique was still young, slender, and broad-chested while he carried his shoulders and neck in a straight, sly manner as if his next words would be humorous. Gabriel swore the man’s purpose in life was to make people laugh, and in turn, make himself laugh.

  Gabriel loved his father. Of his mother he knew little, but Cordis raised him from birth, and there was no one else Gabriel felt closer to. He was the joyful balance Gabriel needed as he brooded through his teen years.

  Cordis wore long black trousers and short boots, a white shirt laced to his neck overlaid with a dark green vest and—no coat. While Cordis understood the language of garments, he did not care what his clothing spoke and so dressed as he pleased, coat or no.

  “Gabriel, I know you’re up there,” Cordis called without looking up. “And the library is still dusty.”

  “Who are we receiving?” Gabriel asked.

  “Descend and find out for yourself,” Cordis replied and looked up. “Good, you are presentable. Come help me greet.” Without a pause in his step, he strode through the open door and vanished into the sounds of horse hooves on cobblestones and jingling tack.

  “Do not embarrass your father in front of the first guests we had since Prince Balien, and do something about your mop of hair,” Dagan stated calmly before he too disappeared through the door.

  Gabriel ran a hand through his thick head of wavy black locks. He shook them contemptuously from his eyes before launching himself from the ledge and colliding solidly with the landing.

  “Ah! Master Gabriel, you’ll break your leg or worse!” a servant exclaimed at the sudden noise as she rushed passed to line up at the door.

  “I always land on my feet Janie,” he replied in the haughty way only a teen-aged boy could.

  Descending the polished oak stairs, Gabriel rounded to the main door opened to a bright but overcast day, spying the fuzzy image of a black carriage blurred by the sudden light. Urima Manor was dark inside, built with few windows and doors to withstand a siege. Gabriel liked the darkness and feeling encompassed.

  Striding past the lined servants in their pressed white-and-brown livery, he stepped out into the day. The light revealed him for who he really was. He was built like his father and rapidly growing into a lofty height with broad shoulders, a trim waist, and slender figure. He already matched his father’s height, and Dagan had said with the long legs, which must have come from his mother, he would be taller. He still felt gangly and awkward as he grew used to his lengthening body. Like his father, his eyes were a deep piercing blue, and while his shapely chin and cheekbones matched Cordis’, Gabriel’s nose was straighter and less prominent. He moved with an unusual smoothness uncommon to teen-age boys with slow and lengthy strides that made him look controlled and bored. Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, he took his spot at the front of the line.

  Two teams of handsome dapple-gray draft horses pulled a large black carriage heavily laden with chests and crates. By the dust on the black lacquer, Gabriel guessed they had been on the road for many days. A short man with tightly-cropped hair and posture straight enough to mark him a soldier unclasped Cordis’ warm handshake as they exchanged words and nodded. The carriage opened, and Cordis stepped forward with his arms spread to greet the inhabitants with a welcoming tone so warm Gabriel himself felt the truth in it. A plump, rosy-cheeked woman stepped out garbed in common Anatolian clothing: long brown traveling dress with a bit of ivory lace at the neck and wrists, and her hair braided up around her head in proper fashion. She boisterously announced her surprise at the massive manor that rose to greet her and accepted Cordis’s welcome with a dignified curtsey and s
mile. ‘Who are you?’ Gabriel wondered.

  A much older woman stepped out dressed in a high-necked black dress, a common cut from Anatoly City. She adorned herself with a single chain of silver wrapped around her neck. It clinked as she took Cordis’s hand. She was wrinkled around the eyes and mouth and looked like she was incapable of smiling. She spoke with a proud, proper Anatolian accent void of contractions or slurring often found outside the capital.

  ‘What did Anatoly City bring that has father in such a twist?’

  Cordis remained standing at the carriage door as if more would step out, but none did. He glanced at the younger woman who gave a shrug and waved her hand to state she had enough. Cordis chuckled and stepped into the carriage, closing the door behind him.

  Gabriel looked at Dagan who stood beside him. “Tell me she’s not in the carriage.”

  “What do you know of happenings in the capital?” Dagan posed.

  “Queen Rincarel Bolt is dead, so the Novaculas should be vying for the throne since the Bolt daughter is too young and has vanished.”

  Dagan put his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “Yes, vanished here.”

  “No, Dagan, please. Balien says she’s dreadfully uptight and political and has no understanding of fun.”

  Dagan chuckled. “Aye, and we proved we could foster Prince Balien, so why not his sister? This is a safe place far from prying eyes. People will certainly be looking for her.”

  “The safest place is Castle Jaden.”

  “That will be the first place people look. It would be far more difficult to keep her identity secret in a castle of a thousand Mages. Here, no one will know her identity but the three of us.”

  ‘The Princess Robyn Bolt?’ Gabriel processed. He knew her brother Balien well enough to call him brother, but of the famed heiress of the powerful Anatoly Kingdom, he only knew what Balien told him. He described her as a beauty who already knew how to command people with a glance. By the time she was ten years old, she was already a force to contend with. Balien said she was an uptight prep who could not bear a single wrinkle in her dress nor go out in public without her hair styled up.

  ‘The heiress in Urima Manor?’ Gabriel swallowed. ‘She will likely find it disdainful.’

  The wind blew warm air with scents of moisture and pine down from the Gray Mountains. The summer was often warm in the foothills, but this season had been unusually wet. Gabriel did not mind the gloomy weather.

  As the servants unloaded the luggage, a handle suddenly gave way sending the crate to the ground with a terrible crash. Every soul in the tight courtyard jumped as the sound echoed. The horses gave a start and lurched forward while the servant at their head pulled back on the reins. Gabriel moved almost without thinking and unslung his hands from his pockets. The movement was so sudden the servants almost missed it, but they never would have seen the green pattern he snapped between his fingers. It looped around the ball of his foot and pierced into the cobblestones. Mere seconds passed from the birth of the crash, two vines shot from the cobblestones and wrapped around the back wheels, securing the carriage to the ground, and preventing the horses from pulling further.

  Gabriel returned his hands to his pockets, once again bored.

  Dagan leaned forward o Gabriel would look at him. “Boy, you are getting very quick at this.” Dagan’s own hands were out and ready, two threads of green wrapped around his palms ready to lay. “It is a shame you do not control another Element like your father,” he sighed as he leaned back.

  “I may yet, there is still time,” Gabriel replied indignantly. Mages came into their Elements around puberty, and he was certainly not finished though his voice dropped as his baby fat melted. “What is the girl doing in there? Braiding her hair?”

  “Have an iota of respect, boy. Her mother just died, and she has been plucked from all she knew.”

  ‘Oh if we could all be so fortunate.’

  Gabriel rocked back on his heels and stared at the sky. The absent look he faked gave him the advantage as he took a quick step out of Dagan’s reach and around the carriage to the nearest window. It was paned with diamonds of glass and shrouded with fabric within. He pressed his ear against it and held his breath to listen.

  “—can call me Cordis, or Mage, or Mage Cordis or whatever you like that isn’t insulting.” His father’s jovial voice sounded hollow, so he pressed harder to hear better. “—once insisted on calling me Class Five. Don’t do that. I have few rules here: don’t wake me up unless it’s important and don’t run screaming through the halls. Also, don’t cry. A woman’s tears are my only weakness, and you would cringe to hear the things I’ve done for women who come to me in tears. If you want a pony or something, just ask. I don’t kill spiders so don’t come to me if you find one in your bath. I can’t braid hair, neither can my son, but I hear he’s killed at least one spider by himself and lived to tell the tale, so he’s the resident hero. I trust Balien has filled you in about my boy?”

  The reply was so high-pitched and faint Gabriel had a hard time making it out. “—calls him brother and has a nasty habit of hiding in remote locations.”

  Cordis laughed heartily. “He still does that. Don’t hesitate to break him of it.”

  “You have an unusual grasp of contractions. Is this common here?”

  Cordis’ laughter was Gabriel’s departing music as he returned to his position in line. Dagan put up a brow in question.

  “They’re discussing contractions and ponies,” Gabriel answered.

  “Let us not do something like that again. The General reached for his sword and gave you a most venomous look.”

  “He’s a General?” Gabriel scoffed, glancing at the stout carriage driver who fixed him a sour glare.

  “That is General Calsifer, the man in charge of the Queen’s Wing.”

  “Ah, yes, and are these women heirs to Arconia and Cinibar?” Gabriel asked, and Dagan chuckled.

  The carriage door swung open, and Cordis descended with a smile. His sweeping gaze did not miss the vines wrapped around the wheel, and he glanced over it as if it was the most natural thing. For Mages, it was. He extended his hand into the cab and slowly drew out the creature within. “Contractions and all,” he said.

  Princess Robyn curled a hand around the doorframe and stepped out, bathing her pale features in the faint light of the overcast day. She must have been terrified, but her heart-shaped face was void of emotion as she followed Cordis out. Thankfully, she looked nothing like Balien except for the pale golden hair a tint lighter than her brother’s. She bore hazel eyes that stood out on her pale skin, little lips void of color, and the traditional small nose of pure-bred Anatolians. Her dark gray dress wrapped to her neck and elbows which had no embroidery or gilt. Without the finery of a Princess, she looked as normal as any in the courtyard. If it was not for the way she clung to Cordis’s hand, Gabriel would have believed the act. ‘She doesn’t want to be here.’

  Cordis swept his free hand over the servants. “These are my friends, and they are here to make you feel at home. Please give them reasons to do their jobs. I hear Madam Evelen can be easily persuaded to make a strawberry tart if you pick them yourself.” The stout cook gave a curtsey.

  The girl shot Cordis a glance of surprise, and Gabriel realized she must have spent her entire life cooped up in Kilkiny Palace. “My boy can show you the best places to pick berries and mushrooms since he usually spends his time avoiding his studies.”

  “Try not to look an idiot,” Dagan whispered and elbowed Gabriel in the back.

  “Only if you enjoy shirking lessons,” Gabriel stated to the girl. She almost came up to his ribcage and had to crane her neck back to look at him. “You look like someone who has never skipped out on a lesson.”

  She looked back over her shoulder at the two women accompanying her as they instructed where the luggage went. “I have never known the pleasure,” she said with a curl of her upper lip. “Nor have I learned to climb the rafters.
”

  Dagan swallowed a laugh and cleared his throat.

  “I assure you, my boy will be on his best behavior in your presence,” Cordis said with a nod and a pointed look at Gabriel.

  The girl released his hand. “You misunderstand me,” she smiled. “I would like to learn.”

  Gabriel slowly grinned. “The beams in the great hall are the very best.”

  “No, no, Gabriel, I cannot have such precious cargo falling to her death because you can’t keep your feet grounded.”

  “Trees, perhaps?” Gabriel posed.

  “Try not to push your luck.”

  The girl chuckled. “My brother has told me much of you, though I expected you to be shorter.”

  “You are as short as he described.”

  Cordis gave him a wide-eyed look, but she laughed and extended her hand. “Please, call me Robyn.”

  He took her hand and held it, not sure what to do until Cordis made a motion. “I am Gabriel,” he said and stooped to put a kiss on her knuckles.

  “Are you a Mage as well?” she asked as he released her hand. She had a unique way of speaking as if she had control of the conversation. Had he not known her age and seen the childish face, he would have suspected she was much older.

  “No, I have not yet tested for my Class. I will in another five years.”

  She nodded. “At twenty years of age? Yes, I remember the little I have learned of Mage culture. I should like to understand it better.”

  “In ten years you will be as learned as if you were a Mage yourself,” Cordis chortled. “We must get you settled; you’ve been on the road too long. Lady Beatrice, Professor Magin, will you join us?” he asked Robyn’s companions and led the way into the house.

  Gabriel lingered with Dagan and absently watched the unloading. “Ten years,” he whispered. “Will she stay here the entire time?”

  “As long as we can keep her safe, she will,” Dagan answered with a low stern voice. “Though, I am concerned. Lailee is pregnant with our second, and I must return to Castle Jaden in time for the birth. I plan to stay for a few months, so we will be short a Mage here. However, I want you to consider furthering your training in Castle Jaden and return with me. You are showing great potential in Earth, and there are better teachers in Jaden that can do more for you than I. If you choose to leave, you would be gone nearly a year—provided you do not come into another Element. It would be a great advantage in attaining a high Class if you train earlier than age sixteen.”