“I’ve heard it named ‘drakon’. It appears infrequently, but Martine uses it for transportation. You can just make out two figures on its back. One is her, Martine that is. The other, I believe, is the Dark Mage.”
Arwhon’s vision seemed to intensify and suddenly he was observing the Dark Mage in detail. He couldn’t see much, as the hood of the Mage’s cloak was pulled up but as he watched, the Mage’s head swivelled and looked directly toward him. Arwhon saw the eyes. M’Herindar like but jet black, boring into him. His vision flashed back to normal and the eye contact was broken. Not a moment too soon, Arwhon had never before seen such concentrated malice. So, that was the Q’Herindam Mage. A most malevolent and exceedingly dangerous opponent.
Arwhon left the wall to return to Cristal’s mansion where he asked his Grandmother for the key to the church tower. After locating Shiri and asking her to accompany him, Arwhon sought Escarion. The Mage was well-pleased to see Arwhon and greeted both he and Shiri warmly before inspecting Arwhon’s face closely and laying a hand casually on Arwhon’s arm.
“You are not entirely alone, I sense another presence.”
Shiri looked alarmed but Arwhon turned to her.
“It’s okay. This is one of the reasons I wanted to consult Escarion.”
He turned his attention back to the Mage.
“I’ve felt it a possibility, can you tell me more?”
Escarion indicated they take a seat. Food and drink materialized before them on the table. The Mage appeared troubled for a moment, stroking his beard in thought as he cast about for a place to begin. Finally, he cleared his throat and started his explanation.
“It has something to do with the Ring. I believe the spirit once trapped in the Ring decided you were the one to finally occupy. There must have been something about you to make the Ring choose you above the others who have died wearing it, so we know it is not just a body it craved. I sense no evil in it, only a desire to do good but there is now a small fragment of another presence within you. Have you noticed anything odd lately?”
Arwhon spent time listing the things he could not explain, culminating with the fire sprites dancing on his hand and putting it gently into the fire. A trick he could not repeat on his own. Escarion shook his head in disbelief.
“I’ve never heard of anything like this before and it’s well beyond my experience. I thought Fire Mages lost in history. All I can suggest is you carry on with your plans and trust whatever it is inside you to continue protecting you. One other thing though. Never forget who you are or where you came from or the other may possibly take over. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Now, what has happened since you left here last time and what are your plans?”
Arwhon quickly related their story, which pleased Escarion greatly, especially learning about the little gryffon. He gave Arwhon a few tips on its care and training, for which Arwhon was very grateful, as Krissi could be a handful at times. Then Arwhon related his sighting of the dread, evil beast he had seen flying back to Martine’s camp earlier. Escarion appeared concerned.
“The drakon is a being from legend. The Q’Herindam Mage has acquired it somehow from the Southern Lands. The Draakon claim it is the beast their country was named after. I hope it’s the only one the Q’Herindam possess. If you locked eyes with the Dark Mage, he knows of you now Arwhon, be very wary.”
Escarion looked from Arwhon to Shiri and back.
“What next for you now?”
Arwhon’s smile was enigmatic as he replied.
“I believe Martine’s army will suffer some harassment shortly, just a little something to cheer up our men and I intend to address our defence forces tomorrow to give them the news about The Broken Lands and Tarkent. Morale is low and I hope to rally them to fight Martine’s forces with all their heart and soul when she attacks. If they don’t, we may lose the war. What do you think of Shiri and I addressing the citizens without the glamour over us and also having Krissi along for effect? It seemed to work in Tarkent.”
Escarion’s eyes twinkled.
“There’s nothing better than a bit of theatre to help a message. Wear all of your armour. You too Shiri. Give them a show to remember. Have Kuiran on the podium with you, and Raleen. They burned down one of Martine’s siege towers while you were away and everyone knows of it.”
Arwhon was stunned.
“They never mentioned it to us.”
Escarion chuckled to himself.
“They’re modest. Not a bad thing. Now get out of here and get some sleep. Tomorrow is an important opportunity to rally the troops who must save the city.”
At two in the morning, between the first moon setting and the second moon rising, a detachment of Duke Braden de Marne’s cavalry successfully carried out a raid on Martine’s supply wagons, firing a number of them. The destruction they caused was not great but casualties among the Duke’s cavalry were few. They had tied sacking over the horse’s feet to muffle the sound of their approach and left the horses over a mile away in a small depression on the rolling plain, well known to the Duke. A few of their number remained behind with instructions to bring the horses up at the first sound of conflict. The rest of the detachment had crept close to the back of the enemy camp and thrown pottery flasks full of oil, with burning wicks, to explode their contents over the supply wagons and set them to burning fiercely.
Surprise was on their side and in the ensuing chaos, Duke de Marne’s soldiers raced back the way they had come to meet the horses being brought up. Only a few of Duke Braden’s men had died from sightless bowshots in the dark. A number of Martine’s wagons had been seriously damaged and a substantial amount of the army’s food supplies lost.
The next morning, Martine, furious at the lack of watchfulness, had doubled the guard and increased the perimeter watch of her camp before despatching riders to obtain more supplies from Graswyn. It was a small victory for Southland and did much to lighten the mood within the beleaguered city.
Cristal had gone to see Jorgen de Frie at Trelin’s house first thing in the morning and leaned on his respect for her. She asked him to have the army, every one not on duty on the walls, assembled in the city square at midday to hear important news. Jorgen pointed out it was the time of day some of his men would normally be sleeping but Cristal was insistent. Jorgen delayed his answer long enough for him to consult with Trelin but she sided with Cristal. Trelin had great faith in the resolute older woman and if Cristal said it was an important matter, it was.
At noon, Arwhon and Shiri entered Belvedere’s central square on foot from the direction of Cristal’s mansion, dressed in full armour, weaponed and crowned with their helms. Krissi strode at their side as they walked through the crowds which fell back before them, awed. Clearing the civilian population, Arwhon and Shiri made their way through the rear of the assembled army, between troops standing in formation, toward a speaking platform which had been hastily made from a commandeered wagon during the morning. Behind them strode the unmistakable Kuiran with his ever present staff and tall Raleen, matching the giant step for step. They were dressed alike in leather tunics and trews: Raleen wearing a longknife threaded through her belt. Not just for show, Lareeta had taken to giving Raleen training in its use.
The massed army, all those not currently on the walls, had no idea why they’d been assembled on such short notice and a few here and there were yawning as they stood waiting. It was the soldiers at the rear who were the first to notice the party making its way through their ranks and the whispering grew in volume as the small group, accompanied by a real gryffon, progressed further toward the front of the assembled men. They soon mounted the podium to warmly greet the Commander of the Army, Jorgen de Frie and Duke Wilken de Valse, his Second-in-Command.
Arwhon and Shiri turned toward the assembled army, three and a half thousand men at arms, minus the five hundred or so on detail on the walls. Around the perimeter of the vast plaza stood a huge crowd of Belvedere’s population, curiosity writ on
all their faces.
The pair stood waiting, exotic seeming to those near enough to see their eyes within the helms, as the whispering and muttering from the ranks died to an expectant hush. Shiri had placed a small spell on Arwhon which amplified his voice so it reached the furthest reaches of the Plaza without being too loud.
He began.
“Men of Southland, brave defenders of Belvedere and her citizens, my name is Arwhon nari Tsalk, grandson of Cristal nasi Tsalkini. I know I appear strange to you, but my appearance is due to the special healing I required in the Darkwood after the rescue of the Barsoomi heirs from the clutches of the Empress Martine. Beside me, in the green armour, is Sihron’del, a M’Herindar princess. Yes, the M’Herindar do exist but choose to keep to themselves in the Darkwood where Man is not permitted. Sihron’del, or Shiri as she is better known to some of you, also assisted in the rescue of the Barsoomi heirs. She is here, now, to aid me in helping Belvedere in its time of need. This woman behind me is my sister, Raleen nasi Tsalk and this large gentleman is Kuiran, or to give him his M’Herindar name, Kuiran’dal. You probably know them as those who risked their lives, along with my Grandmother Cristal and Lareeta, her Barsoomi bodyguard, to burn down one of the siege towers threatening Belvedere. This beast standing beside me is indeed a creature of legend, a gryffon. Not fully grown yet but well on the way. Her name is Krissi. We found her, injured, on our travels and healed her. Since then she has travelled with us.”
Arwhon paused for effect, casting his eyes across the assembled army and the throng of civilians behind them.
“I am here to give you some good news. The Broken Lands and Tarkent have been freed from the clutches of the Dominion. Martine no longer rules there.”
It took a couple of seconds for the news to sink in then the whole square erupted in wave after wave of cheering. Soldiers were standing, slapping each other on the back and grinning broadly. Arwhon stood immobile, waiting for the joyous reaction to die down. Soon, the soldiers realized Arwhon hadn’t quite finished speaking and the cheering and chatter abated. Eventually, all was quiet again.
“That is the good news. There are other campaigns afoot but it is too early to know if they will amount to anything or not. They are irrelevant to our present situation. Martine’s hand has been forced by her losing control of those countries. She has to take Belvedere quickly or her Dominion could be toppled. I believe the assault will take place within a fortnight. When, I cannot say. She will throw everything at us she can. All at once. If she manages to take Belvedere, she will have the power base to undo our work and spread Dominion over all the lands once again.
I will not hide from you the fact that Martine has a Dark Mage working with her. We have our own Mage, who is just as powerful and he will protect the city and the people in it, to the best of his abilities.
I will not hide from you the fact Martine has more men than we do, although you must remember the men of the mounted force who are still outside the walls. They scored a small victory last night. They will be here at the final battle.
I will not hide from you the possibility the Draakon Reavers may be involved and attack the harbour again but we have beaten them once and will beat them again.
I will not hide from you the fact that the food supplies are running low, we have all had to pull our belts in.
So what am I here to tell you? The answer to that is easy. Men of Southland, with the courage you have already shown, I know we can beat Martine and finally crush the Dominion.”
The square erupted in loud cheering as the soldiers reacted to Arwhon’s encouraging words and positivity. Jorgen de Frie also wore a smiling face but it was mostly for appearances sake. He knew the numbers and during his talks with Trelin, had realized the odds favoured Martine far more than Southland. He was prepared for the worst.
Atop the church tower, Escarion gazed down on the massed soldiers below. Someone had started a chant and swords, bows and other assorted weapons beat time in the air to that chant. ‘Southland, Southland, Southland’.
For one so young, Arwhon had a way with his words. He was so open and sincere almost everyone who listened could not help but believe him.
Still, Escarion was troubled. He had sensed a separate awareness lurking within Arwhon and hoped it would not take over the lad. The small spark of intelligence he’d discovered was old but not evil and burned with a cold intensity of purpose. Would it always respect the sanctity of Arwhon as an individual? Escarion wondered. It was that which concerned him.
Only time would tell.
Escarion lifted his gaze to look over Belvedere’s walls and observed the enemy camp, the soldiers there looking toward Belvedere, no doubt hearing the chant of the Southland army and wondering what was occurring inside the walls. It would do them good to worry for a while. He could feel the presence of the Dark Mage as an oily hole in the invisible currents of power running through the Air. Whatever good came near that oily presence was twisted into something other. Escarion shivered.
Meeting the Dark Mage face to face would be a real challenge. There was a lot of vile power in that individual.
The soldiers dispersed to their rest or duties and Arwhon started for the steps of the podium to return to his Grandmother’s house. Jorgen caught his arm and drew him to a halt.
“We need to talk, you and I. It’s not you who controls the army but I and it’s mine to command.”
“Assuredly Commander de Frie, I’d no intention of taking control, I just wished to share some good news and try to encourage the men. They have a formidable task in front of them.”
“I’m aware of that,” the Commander snapped. I know there’s no way we’ll win. Why did I take this job on anyway? The Ring on Arwhon’s finger translated.
Arwhon’s level stare bored into Jorgen’s eyes.
“Because you were the best man for it.”
Jorgen’s hand sharply released Arwhon, his face startled and paling visibly at this seemingly obtuse statement, as Arwhon continued.
“We have a lot to discuss, you and I. It would be an honour if Trelin could sit in with us also. Are you and she free this evening?”
“I shall enquire. What time?”
“Say six, for dinner at Cristal’s mansion if you like.”
“I’ll send a messenger shortly.” Jorgen replied, almost coldly.
Watching as the party made its way off the podium. Jorgen was troubled, besides being worried about the overwhelming odds facing Belvedere, he had almost been exiled from his marriage. There had been nothing going on between he and Trelin but his wife had listened too closely to the parlour gossip going around. She added those tales to his many absences and decided Jorgen and Trelin were having an affair. His home was now colder than a winter’s day and all joy had fled from it. Despite Jorgen’s protestations of innocence, his wife made it her business to render his life extremely unpleasant. Nothing he said meant anything to her, she sought only selfish attention.
Jorgen took himself off to call on Trelin and soon a messenger was despatched to Cristal’s mansion.
When Arwhon, Shiri, Raleen and Kuiran arrived back at the mansion with Krissi cavorting along behind, Kuiran took Arwhon to one side.
“Remember the belt which heals?”
“Yes, a most useful gift from your mother. I remember it well. It has saved many lives, including Chalc’s.”
“Well the magic has run out. Raleen and I went to see if Escarion could repower it but he said it was Earthmagic and he couldn’t. I know you can summon Power and wondered if you’d take a look at it?”
Arwhon thought for a moment before answering.
“I cannot cast spells or work with Earthmagic, maybe Shiri should join in. In fact why don’t all of us have a look at it? Do you have it with you?”
“No, but it won’t take long to fetch. Meet you in the drawing room.” Kuiran tore off up the stairs while Arwhon and the two women went into the drawing room together. Cristal and Lareeta were there waiting.
“How did it go Arwhon? We heard the chanting from here,” his Grandmother asked.
“Well Grandmother, but Jorgen is feeling somewhat defeatist. The Ring gave me some insight into his thinking so I invited him and Trelin to dinner to explain our tactics and try to make him feel more positive. A negative Commander could badly affect the soldiers under his command.”
“I agree. Good idea. We’ll let Mendle know we have two extra for dinner.”
“Grandmother, Kuiran wanted me to look at the healing belt. There may be a great deal of Power floating around shortly. I’m hoping Shiri could manage a spell to get the belt working again. It would do wonders for moral in a battle if we could heal injuries rapidly.”
Cristal smiled up at Arwhon from where she sat.
“You’ve become quite the tactician now, haven’t you? Go right ahead, don’t mind me.”
Cristal went back to conversing with Lareeta.
Kuiran returned and set the belt on the table and they all sat, their eyes fixed on it. Arwhon took it up first but felt nothing. Then Raleen, with the same result. Finally, Shiri picked it up and sat concentrating on the tiny pearls and the intricate design they were stitched into. A slow smile spread over her face.
“I recognise something; the overall design made by the pearls on the belt is also the spell to power one pearl. I can translate it to song but it will take a little while and require a lot of power. Can you give me some please Arwhon?”
He charged up with Power and she took a generous amount before beginning the spell song. It took about ten minutes and she was exhausted by the time she’d finished, fairly drained of Earthmagic, with drops of sweat beaded upon her beautiful face but she proudly pointed to one of the tiny pearls in the design. They all looked closely and saw, in among all of the others, one pearl glowing faintly.
“There is one reactivated now. I’ll try and activate a few more. If you leave the belt with us Kuiran, we’ll work on it whenever we have spare time. After I have sung the song over a hundred times and it becomes part of me, the work will go much more quickly.”
The Fall of Belvedere Page 28