Cheris looked surprised. ‘I was not expecting such a request. I fear it will be difficult if not impossible for me to convey the complexities of our powers but ... yes, I will try. I suppose it is a long journey and this may help alleviate any tedium.’ She was painfully aware that Marcus was stood not ten feet from her and the last thing she wanted to do was give the impression of flirting with yet another young man. She decided to try and treat him as a younger brother, so as not to give off the wrong signals.
Sir Norton called to them. ‘Everything is ready. If you could both climb into the caravan. We loaded your stuff on board earlier.’
At this, Roland gave her a hand up as she climbed the small ladder into the back of the caravan and clambered inside.
It was a solidly built affair with wooden sides and a canvas roof. On either side of it was a long couch that would also double as a bed. It had two small windows and at the front were their trunks, sitting alongside a set of drawers that held cooking utensils, lamp oil and the like. The only access to the caravan was at the rear, where the wooden panel had been fashioned into a lockable door. Marcus climbed in after her, carrying what looked like a white sheet. ‘The knights have given me this. There are hooks here and ... umm ... here that we can hang it from to give us privacy if required.’
‘Excellent, I hope you don’t snore.’
‘I don’t really know; I am always asleep at the time.’
They pottered around for a while and rigged the sheet up folding it over itself for the time being. Cheris got out her mirror and a small bottle of scented water, and dabbed a little behind her ears. As she sat down, she heard a cry from the knights and felt the caravan slowly lurch forward. They were off.
For this, the first, part of the journey she got on to her knees on the couch and looked out of the window, ignoring Marcus comment of ‘No need to get so excited, it really is quite unremarkable out there.’ She saw the wagon bathed in shadow as they passed under the walls, out of the city gates and over the drawbridge, and then it was all rolling grassland dotted with the occasional tree or small copse. They were going gently downhill and as she craned her neck to look back she could see the imposing grey city walls, crenellated, with many conical towers getting smaller in the distance. The sky was a leaden colour studded with ominous low-lying black clouds; it looked like it would be a rather nasty day.
‘If you come over this side, you can see the sea.’ said Marcus.
‘Thank you but no. I have seen enough of the sea in my lifetime.’
‘Yes, I suppose you have; it will take us about two to three weeks to complete our journey. Early tomorrow we will cross the Red River, a branch of the Erskon and then it’s ten days or so through a green country, full of farms and small villages, until we reach the Kada, the first of the Seven Rivers. You will see things change then; it is a military frontier after all. After that, we should get to the army’s forward camp within a few days, depending on where it is of course – the battlefront is constantly changing.’
‘I don’t really want to think about war or battle, not just yet anyway; I just want fresh air and peace for a while, and no one shouting at me of course.’
‘And what am I to do for my amusement if I can’t shout at you?’
‘See, I only misbehave to keep you happy.’
He sighed wearily. ‘It’s going to be a long, long journey.’
The knights stopped at about noon where they took a lunch consisting of a hot wheat porridge washed down with some rather nasty weak ale. They stood under a low canvas pavilion that they had attached to the rear of the caravan – the rain had started to come down quite heavily. Lunch over, Cheris went and sat with Roland at the front of the wagon. Its canvas roof extended over them to keep them dry and Cheris covered herself with a blanket to keep out the cold.
‘Now then, young Roland, what is it you wish to know?’
‘Oh, where to begin?’ He tugged the reins, called to the horses and they were off again. ‘Well, basically what makes you all so special? How are you able to command these powers? Do the Gods give them to you?’
She laughed. ‘That’s a lot of questions to begin with. Hmmm, it could take some time to answer. Let me see...’ Her mind went back to some of Marcus’s early lessons ‘What do you see ahead of you?’
‘Well, there is the road, a couple of houses, Sir Norton and Sir Werner, the red flag, the horses, what else is there?’ He sounded puzzled.
‘You are right, of course; all that is ahead of us. But look at Sir Norton, for example. What if I were to tell you there is another world, a world that occupies the same space as our own but one that exists under completely different rules. A world of energy, where nothing is corporeal or solid. Sir Norton on his horse is occupying the space taken by this energy; it runs over him, under him, inside him and through him, and we, as mages, have the ability of ‘‘seeing’’ this world in our minds and drawing power from it. We can cross the divide, the barrier between these worlds and, with practice, can control and shape what we take from it to our will. We all have different abilities: some of us are stronger and can take more power, or mana, from the Plane of Lucan without risking any of its concomitant dangers.’
‘What dangers? And can you actually ‘‘see’’ this world?’
‘No, not as you or I see Sir Norton. Lucan has given us the ability to let it into our minds – there and there alone is where we can picture it. And, as for the dangers, well, think about it: we are using our minds to shape and redirect energy; get it wrong, lose control of that energy and you could be in enormous trouble. At best, you forget what you are doing, lose control of yourself for a moment; at worst, your brain can literally fry.’
‘Have you ever seen this happen?’
‘At the college we are brought on very very slowly. We spend years doing mental exercises, incantations, focusing ourselves through the use of things like hand gestures, all of which helps to give us full control over what we wish to accomplish ... but, yes, things do go wrong. Some of us have too much ability with too little mental discipline and that is when things can get messy. There was a boy of about ten, I remember; I had only been at the college a few months and a group of us younger initiates were practising some basic summoning when the poor lad started screaming. Our mentors ran to help him but it was too late. Blood started pouring from his nose, his mouth, and his eyes and ears. Then he stopped screaming and collapsed, dead. It was horrible. None of us would try anything for a while after that.’ She stopped, peering reflectively ahead through the rain and gloom.
‘Are you able to just ... um ... stop using your powers, so that that sort of thing doesn’t happen to you?’
‘Theoretically yes, but it takes an awful lot of self-discipline; your mind is always in touch with that magical part of it and the temptation is always there. At the college they recommend occasional, supervised, low level use of magic – lighting lamps, starting a fire, in a fireplace of course, just to keep the urge to use our powers in check. The best analogy I can think of is that it’s like making love; you don’t ever have to do it but it releases a lot of stress and tension when you do. Oh Elissa preserve me, I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I? I am so sorry, I just forget where I am sometimes.’ She put her hand over her mouth – the poor boy was scarlet!
‘No, no, my Lady,’ he mumbled. ‘Everything you are saying is very interesting. This other world you describe; does anything live there?’
‘Yes,’ she said slowly, ‘creatures of elemental energy, fire, lightning, ice and the like. They are like the forms you see Lucan take in the Scriptures. They are capricious and can be quick to anger, so our training enables us to spend as little time as possible in their world so as we do not attract them to us. We are an alien presence there, you see; they could be friendly or hostile, but it is better for us never to find out.’
‘You are talking about demons, yes? Are there not forbidden arts that enable you to call them into this world?’
‘Not all these creatures ar
e demons, and I believe it is your job to stop any mage who even contemplates summoning one of them into our world. They are incredibly dangerous once they cross the divide. There are tomes at the college that concern this subject as well as others in the universities in Tanaren, but the ones at the college are kept under lock and key by the Grand Magister and Sir Benedict, the head of your order on the island. They both hold half of the key, so one cannot open it without the other. Needless to say, I have never seen these books.’
‘Why, by Artorus, would anyone want to get involved in such a thing if it is so dangerous?’
‘I do not know,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘The desperate or those seeking power might try, I suppose. If we sense a demon being drawn to us when casting, we have to abandon our attempt at a spell for they will attack us immediately. If somebody can first summon and second control a demon in this world, then they control a sentient being of great destructive ability. A demon cannot survive long in our world and to prolong its existence it has to feed on life energy. So for it to survive it has to kill and kill again. It will seek out mages first, as we are more attuned to them and our power can sustain them for longer, but thereafter anyone is fair game. If a mage can control one and direct its killing power towards its enemies, then he is only a little less than a god for the time that it lives. It is all hypothetical, though – the power and ability required to summon and control such a creature is beyond all but a handful of mages that have existed since the colleges were founded hundreds of years ago. At least, this is what I am given to understand; as I have said, I have never read any demonological work and have no intention of starting.’
Roland nodded gravely. ‘Yes, demonology and the control of mages who have such powers are a significant part of our teaching, or so I am given to believe. Thank you, my Lady; you have given me much to think about.’
‘It was a pleasure, Roland. Now if you could stop the caravan for a minute while I go back inside, I would be most grateful. If I get any colder, you could snap me in two.’
She lay on her back on the couch. It was a horrible night with the rain spattering against the caravan, making it difficult for her to sleep. The dividing sheet was up but she could sense that Marcus was having the same problems as herself.
‘Marcus,’ she said.
‘What is it?’ he replied languidly. So he was awake.
‘Was it really necessary to spy on me like that? I could sense it, you know; you using mana to hear what I was saying to Roland.’
‘Ah, but I knew that you would know that I was using it, so ‘‘spying’’ hardly seems to be appropriate in the circumstances. I am sorry for doing it, Cheris – it was only for five minutes – but after your escapades in the city I had to be sure. I won’t do it again.’
‘He is hardly my type. You know I prefer older men. You are in more danger from me than he is.’
‘Then I consider myself duly warned,’ he laughed softly.
‘On a related topic, how are things with you and Gilda? I haven’t seen you two together for a while.’
‘Things are fine. We have been... um ... very close friends for longer than you have been alive. Just because you haven’t seen us in one another’s company for a while doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong.’
‘Pfff, you older people!’ she snorted. ‘How can you be so dispassionate? If I had met the love of my life, I would want to spend every day in their company.’
‘You do know that strictly we are not allowed to have relationships, don’t you? Let alone marry. Discretion is a common-sense path to take sometimes, though that may be a difficult idea for you to grasp – you wouldn’t know common sense if it came up towards you and hit you over the head with a brick.’
She laughed and affected a ‘grumpy old mage’ voice: ‘Oh, the impetuosity of youth! Why is it that wisdom comes only with great age!’
Marcus groaned and put a blanket over his head. ‘Go to sleep!’
Cheris continued to smile. ‘She is a nice lady, Gilda; you are very lucky to have her. It is very difficult trying to maintain a relationship without the knights noticing; the fact that you have done it over so many years is a credit to you both.’
‘The fact that the knights turn a blind eye a lot of the time is more pertinent in this case, I feel. I hear that some of the colleges in Chira are a lot stricter and transgressions are punished with imprisonment. I heard a story years ago about a mage couple who had a child. The child was taken away and exposed and the man was castrated. The girl was imprisoned and went mad. I don’t know if it was true or not.’
‘By Elissa, that’s monstrous!’ she said. ‘Anyone could have an accident... I know we have ... ways of ending an early pregnancy but even so...’ She trailed off. ‘Did you ever want children, Marcus?’
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘but even if we could conceal a pregnancy, we cannot conceal a child. It would have been taken away from us and sent to an orphanage, and monitored of course for signs of the gift. If it did have talent, it would be sent to college a long way from our own. Gilda has been pregnant, you know – years ago – on a couple of occasions but we had to end it. They were very sad times.’
‘I am so sorry; I didn’t know.’
‘It has happened to a lot of us,’ he replied. ‘It will probably happen to you one day. Don’t be tempted to keep it. Our college may be more tolerant but the prison is there for a purpose. I don’t want to see you in there one day. Now go to sleep.’
The days passed and the caravan rumbled ever onwards through a land patchworked with hedge-enclosed fields, streams, copses whose leaves were turning ever browner, and the occasional small village that usually consisted of nothing more than a few thatched cottages hugging the road, a tavern which would be the largest building present, and a small stone chapel, often graced by a weatherworn statue of Artorus outside the porch.
Her conversations with Roland had continued. She had adopted an almost Marcus-like approach with him, that of a teacher with an almost maternalistic concern for her pupil. They had been travelling for well over a week and were now only a couple of days from the river Kada, close to the war zone. She was sitting with him now, as usual, as he steered the horses.
‘Do any of you try and extinguish your talent,’ he asked, ‘so that you can join ordinary society? Is there a way to do this?’
‘Not that I have heard of,’ she said. ‘Actually, that isn’t true. I have heard of some fanatics who cut out their tongues or break all their fingers so they cannot cast, but I cannot say whether this is true or not. And in the empire of Koze far to the south I hear they ‘‘experiment’’ on mages by doing unspeakable things to their brains, leaving them unable to speak, but again I don’t know if this is true either. We are stuck with the way Artorus or Lucan has made us, I am afraid. Just as you cannot determine your hair colour, the shape of your nose, your height, so I had no choice as to my ... gift, as Marcus calls it.’
‘Would you remove it if you could?’
‘Oh Roland, that is an impossible question. This has been with me all my life and I cannot imagine being without it. You adapt to your circumstances. The Isle of Tears is my home and that is that. I am actually quite fond of the place. What is it?’ She saw him looking at her with a wary glance. ‘Some other question?’
‘No,’ he said in a low voice. ‘It was something Sir Norton said but I cannot ask you about it.’
‘Why ever not?’ She looked at him with a pert smile. ‘Am I that frightening?’
‘No, but it is something a gentleman should not ask a lady.’
‘Now you have really piqued my curiosity,’ she laughed. ‘Come on, just ask it before I turn you into a rabbit.’
‘Very well,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘Sir Norton says that mages, when ... in the throes of passion, can lose control of their abilities and ... er ... set on fire the object of their affections...’ He finished by staring fixedly to the ground.
This time she really did lau
gh, a high, musical sound that drew glances from the other knights. ‘Really! You don’t seriously believe...!’ She started laughing again.
He started smiling, too. ‘I take it that’s a no then.’
She calmed down. ‘A very big no, Roland. From what I have been told, we are no different from anyone else in that respect; however, it is possible to use a little electrical magic at certain times during the act. It can be extremely stimulating for both parties. But I am letting on to mage secrets here; I had better be quiet. Hang on, what’s that?’
They had just turned northwards, the dirt path they were on circling a small copse which had obscured the view ahead. They were actually on the crest of a hill. In front of them the path dropped gradually until it hit a broad flat plain dotted with fields and the occasional farm building. In the distance to the north, partially obscured by mist and crowned by low white cloud, lay a belt of grey mountains, while to the east Cheris could discern a broad silver ribbon of a river, its course undulating this way and that until it finally passed them snaking off into the southern distance. Some way ahead, maybe about five miles away, the river looped westwards towards a low sloping hill not dissimilar to the one they currently occupied and on the crown of this hill was a settlement enclosed by a low crenellated wall. It had a gate in its western side from which a road ran. It was actually the same road they were travelling on; she saw it run like a bootlace from the town until it eventually reached their position and of course continued ever onwards until it reached Tanaren City itself. Surrounding the town ahead, covering the hill and spreading into the river valley below, were a motley collection of small, dark, irregular shapes, closely packed together .She asked Roland for clarification.
‘Yes, they are shacks and tiny one-room buildings fashioned out of wood, turf and sods of earth. This is Athkaril, the main destination for refugees fleeing the war. By all accounts there is much friction between the locals and newcomers. We will not be staying there long. In fact, I think Sir Norton will camp soon and just drive through there on the morrow.’
The Forgotten War Page 19