Angus Wells - The God Wars 01

by Forbidden Magic (v1. 1)

  Anomius spoke again, and though his words were lost beneath the booming of the fires it seemed the flame beasts heard him, for each one turned in the direction of Kesham-vaj and began to move ponderously toward the town. Where they trod the ground burned, the trampled grass scorching, the earth itself left black and smoking in their wake. The scent of almonds grew sickeningly sweet; the stone blazed, itself like fire now. Calandryll watched dumbstruck as arrows rained from the defenses, useless, burning even before they touched the fiery apparitions. For each entry into Kesham-vaj there was one flame beast, and they marched implacably toward the barricades, high as houses, looming above those few defenders brave—or desperate—enough to remain.

  Those who did perished as the occult creatures reached down, fiery paws indiscriminate as they tore at the barriers, wood and flesh alike burning on their touch. Between the houses the barricades were demolished in a moment, timber blackening and collapsing into ash that swirled within the flaming forms of the creatures, striping them with black and streaks of gray. Metal melted where they were, spears and sword blades running like ice in flame, sizzling in molten droplets to the charred ground, the wielders—those not themselves consumed— running in terror.

  A clarion rang and Calandryll saw Sathoman raise his great sword aloft, bellowing a war cry as he began to run straight for the closest fire beast.

  For one wild instant Calandryll thought the brigand lord would himself charge to his death, but as he approached the creature it turned and stalked ahead, driving the defenders before it, and, still screaming his war shout, Sathoman led his men into Kesham-vaj.

  Then the afternoon was loud with the clamor of battle, the ek'Hennem forces converging on the town in a savage human wave on the heels of the fire beasts. Calandryll saw Anomius raise his hands again and the flickering shapes of the monsters he had created flashed and were gone, leaving the field to mortal combat, the heady almond scent clearing, leaving only the wood-smoke smell of the fires. The wizard sagged, shoulders slumping beneath his shabby robe, his chest heaving. A man brought him a stool and he collapsed onto the chair, head hanging, threatening to dislodge his headdress. He remained thus, seemingly exhausted by his conjurations, until a squad of Sathoman's men herded a robed figure from the town. Then he straightened, sitting upright on the stool as the man was brought before him.

  This, Calandryll guessed, was the sorcerer sent by the Tyrant to defend Kesham-vaj. He was a more impressive sight than Anomius, taller and narrow-featured, standing defiantly straight although obviously no less fatigued by his work than the smaller man. His hands were bound and a knotted leather thong gagged his tongue. Unbound grey hair hung about his face, falling to the shoulders of a silvery robe streaked with soot and charred about the hem. As if conscious of the difference in their heights, Anomius remained seated, studying the enemy wizard with head cocked to one side. Then he gestured, murmuring something to the soldiers, and they stood back, forming a loose half circle about the bound man. Anomius gestured again and the wizard was abruptly wreathed in flame, a single choking cry erupting from his lips. In no more time than it had taken Anomius to mouth the spell, the flame was gone, the rival sorcerer with it. A handful of ashes fluttered in the air, caught by the wind and blown away. Anomius spoke again and the soldiers spun as if pleased to quit the wizard's presence, trotting back to the fight.

  It went on until dusk, the clash of steel on steel gradually dimming, the shouting fading until silence hung over the plateau. Then the clarion sounded again and a great shout went up.

  “I think," Bracht said, "that Sathoman is now Lord of the Fayne in more than name."

  "And has the time to think of us," Calandryll returned. "Anomius had best act swiftly, unless he's changed his mind."

  Bracht ducked his head in silent agreement, his hawkish features thoughtful. "If he's not," he said, "tonight would be the time to go—while Sathoman basks in his triumph. And if we do, we'd best lay some plan for the future."

  Calandryll's eyes framed a question.

  "Anomius is our only hope of escaping this," Bracht's gesture encompassed tne shed and the town together, "and likely a wizard can ease our passage through Kandahar. But when we reach Kharasul? Are we to take ship with him? Do we take him as companion to Tezin-dar?"

  "Dera, no!" Calandryll shook his head vigorously. "Should Anomius learn of the Arcanum he'll seize it for himself—and that, I think, must be akin to handing the book to Azumandias."

  "Then we must escape him," Bracht said.

  "If we can," Calandryll agreed.

  "Even sorcerers must sleep." Bracht tapped his sword hilt, a cold smile on his lips. "And surely even sorcerers can be slain."

  Calandryll stared at the Kem, aware that they discussed what seemed no better than cold-blooded murder. It seemed a long road from Secca to this, the changes in his life perhaps more costly than he wished to pay. But the Arcanum was the prize—the salvation of the world itself the stake in this game—and he nodded reluctant agreement.

  "If we must."

  The sounds of revelry came from Kesham-vaj as the ek'Hennem army celebrated its victory, and for the moment at least it seemed the prisoners were forgotten. The moon, full now, rose to shine fitfully through the gathered cloud and a light rain fell, damping the dying fires. Whatever spell Anomius had cast on the cowshed did nothing to hold out the drizzle and Calandryll and Bracht crouched, miserable and wary, beneath the scant shelter of the broken roof. Food was brought them by a dirty, grinning soldier, Anomius lifting his spell just long enough for the man to thrust the meal inside. Calandryll thought the wizard would speak with them, but he merely glanced at them as before and turned away. In the moonlight, his face was drawn, his eyes like reddened ditch water ringed with purple shadow, giving no sign of his intentions. They ate listening to the drunken shouting of the victors, wondering if the wizard intended to renege on his promise. Of Sathoman ek'Hennem there was no sign, and that at least was favorable: they composed themselves to sleep with blades at their sides, their gear set close by in optimistic readiness.

  Bracht was the first to wake when Anomius came again, nudging Calandryll until he stirred from a fitful dream of fiery monsters and trees that spoke, to open bleary eyes on the small figure of the warlock standing in the doorway. Instinctively, he glanced at the red stone, and saw that it held no glow to reveal magic, guessing from that the door spell was removed.

  Anomius tapped a warning finger to his fleshy lips and beckoned them to their feet.

  "Sathoman celebrates his victory still," the warlock murmured, "and most of his men are drunk. This is, I think, a most propitious time to leave. But first..

  He moved his hands, muttering, a finger extending toward Bracht. The Kem sprang back, mouthing a curse, then shook his head, eyes glazing momentarily. Anomius smiled amiably. Calandryll saw the stone flicker.

  "A simple spell, my friend. We have a journey to go, we three, and I'd not chance your forgetting your vow."

  "Curse you!" Bracht snarled. "What have you done to me?"

  "A geas, no more," Anomius said. "I'd place the same upon Calandryll, save that the stone prevents me."

  "What have you done to me?" Bracht repeated furiously, hand fastening on the falchion's hilt.

  "Draw that—or any other weapon—against me," the wizard beamed, "and you must turn the blade on Calandryll. Attempt to slay me, and your comrade dies."

  The Kern stared at him, rage etched on his face. Calandryll said, "And I? Should I come against you?"

  Anomius studied him, still smiling, and shook his head.

  "Your ethics are ... less pragmatic ... than those of Cuan na'For, Calandryll den Karynth. I doubt you're the man to slit my throat whilst I sleep, or slide a blade between my ribs as my back turns."

  "You insult me," Bracht rasped.

  "I take no more than understandable precautions," Anomius replied evenly. "After all, do you not betray Varent den Tarl? You need me to escape Sathoman's vengeance, but after? What g
uarantee—other than your word, which you no doubt gave to your former employer, too—do I have that you'll not betray me likewise?"

  His argument—given that they had, not long ago, discussed his murder—was irrefutable. Calandryll could think of no counter; Bracht's lips clamped tight, his eyes blazing dangerously.

  "This is no time to debate the matter," Anomius declared. "We ride together and I'll protect myself—accept it, or remain here. Likely Sathoman will remember you when he sobers,- if you prefer to await his justice ..." He shmgged. "If not, then let's be gone. I've horses waiting and I'd distance myself from Kesham-vaj before my lord leams of my departure. Which is it to be?"

  Calandryll glanced at Bracht: the Kem shmgged.

  "We ride."

  "Then come," said Anomius, beckoning: they followed the sorcerer from the shed.

  The fires, no longer fueled by Anomius's magic and damped by the steady rain, smoldered fitfully now. Thick banks of cloud masked the sky above the plateau, the moon losing its struggle to pierce the canopy, the ground before Kesham-vaj dark. Those few of ek'Hennem's men not carousing within the town sheltered in their tents, and the three fugitives reached the horses unnoticed. Bracht's chestnut and Calandryll's roan snickered greetings as they stowed their gear behind the saddles, the Kem taking time to check each animal before they mounted. Anomius hauled himself laboriously astride a dark grey gelding and led the way out of the encampment.

  They moved at a walk for fear of calling attention down on their escape, past empty tents, the spitting remnants of a bonfire, a line of picketed animals stamping fretful in the rain. Drizzle and darkness were their allies, those and the victory that relaxed the brigands' vigilance, the slow clopping of the hooves muffled by wet ground and the susurration of the rain, the handful of sentries still posted along the perimeter huddling under cover, consoling themselves with ale and wine brought them by sympathetic comrades. They circled the tents to put Kesham-vaj at their backs, crossing fields deserted with the coming of the rebel army, farmhouses standing dark and empty, the animals eaten by ek'Hennem's army. When the town was no more than a blur of light behind, they angled toward the road, quickening their pace.

  "How long before we're missed?" Bracht shouted through the rain hiss and hoofbeats.

  Anomius, none too happy with their speed, wiped a hand over his face and answered, "Morning, perhaps. If we're lucky, noon or later."

  "Shall we be off this highland by then?" asked the Kem.

  The wizard nodded. "If we ride all night. And if we can pass the sentinels."

  "Sentinels?" Bracht swung his chestnut closer to the grey. "What sentinels?"

  "Sathoman has twenty men posted at the western edge," the wizard said. "To watch and warn against attack."

  "Ahrd damn you!" Bracht cursed. "You said nothing of watchers there."

  "Can you not use magic against them?" asked Calandryll.

  "No major conjuration." Anomius shook his head. "I raised fire demons today, and that takes a toll. That and quelling my opponent's counterspells. I can work no major sorceries until my strength is recovered."

  "You set a spell on me," Bracht said. "Or was that a lie?" _

  "No lie," Anomius returned, "but a small spell. To overcome a score of men—or bring us past them unseen—is more than I can do now."

  "Is there another way down?"

  Calandryll saw their escape ending soon after it had begun as the wizard shook his head again and said, "Not off this highland. Only the Tyrant's road. But another way . . . perhaps."

  He loosed his left hand from its nervous grip on the saddle hom just long enough to gesture at his pack.

  "I have a bow. By night ... they'll not expect attack from this quarter."

  "You'd see your comrades slain?"

  Calandryll stared at the sorcerer's face, glistening in the rain, feeling a loathing for this unwelcome ally.

  "I'd have the grimoire," Anomius replied, unmoved. "If a handful of outlaws must die for that, so be it."

  "And when Sathoman learns of it?"

  Bracht felt no compunction: Calandryll realized that Anomius had been correct in his assessment of their ethical differences.

  "He'll not for a day, at least," said the wizard; then grinned maliciously, "and when he does—and finds us gone—he'll likely assume you succeeded in forcing me to free you."

  "And send men after us," snapped the Kem. "If we're alive to chase."

  "Of course," Anomius agreed, "but by then we'll be off this highland and there are places to hide below. And my strength will be restored—you need only concern yourselves with the men ahead."

  "You've much faith in my sword skill," Bracht grunted.

  "We'll find a way," Anomius replied evenly. "Between us, we'll find a way."

  Bracht mouthed a curse that went unheard in the night. Calandryll, riding on Anomius's left, looked across the sorcerer at the Kem. Bracht's face was cold and hard, resolved, as if the attacking of twenty men was already accepted and he thought only of the doing of it, that and the need to get down off this open plateau to the hiding places of the land below.

  They rode on, Bracht setting the pace, Anomius bouncing uncomfortably in the grey's saddle, a miserable bundle of dark, rain-sodden clothes, silent now that the decision was made. Calandryll thought of his words: "I can work no major sorceries until my strength is recovered." Perhaps that offered some hope of escaping his clutches—if the working of conjurations exhausted him to the point at which he could fashion only simple spells, then perhaps they might flee him at some time when his occult powers ebbed low. Perhaps: for now there was the problem of passing the sentinels to consider. Twenty, Anomius had said. Bracht could hardly take twenty men with the bow: likely it would come to swordwork. It came to him that he had never killed a man. He began to wonder if he could.

  As the night gave way to dawn he found out.

  Kesham-vaj lay lost in the darkness behind them, the land around stretching flat, broken only by the half-seen shapes of windblown trees, the plateau's rim was hidden in the softening grey that marked the transition between night and day. The rain had ceased, the air cool, fresh with the pleasant scent of wet grass. Anomius slowed his mount, raising a cautious hand.

  "We approach the descent. Sathoman's men may hear the horses."

  Bracht reined in, Calandryll following suit as the Kem swung to the ground.

  "Give me the bow."

  Anomius groaned as he hiked an awkward leg over his saddle and slid down, reaching up to slide the bow from its wrappings on his saddle. It was heavy-curved, like those Denphat and Jedomus had carried, short enough to be used effectively from horseback. Bracht took it and bent it against his knee, settling the loose string in place. Anomius passed him a quiver of twelve arrows and the Kem examined each one, sighting down the shafts and checking the fletching. He pronounced himself satisfied and turned to the wizard.

  "Where will they be?"

  "The road's edge is marked by a pillar," Anomius said, "Like that where you found Arrhiman and Laphyl. Beyond the pillar the road descends steeply, through a cut. Before the rim, the ground is open for half a bow shot. They'll be there."

  "Armored?"

  "Yes," Anomius nodded, "but that bow can pierce armor."

  "Not fast enough," Bracht grunted, "but perhaps enough to divert them. Is there any magic you can use against them?"

  "Some," the wizard admitted. "But minor spells that I can work only at close range against single men."

  "Then we must ride through them." Bracht's face was grim in the pale grey light. "Calandryll, your task is to scatter their horses. Likely they'll be on a picket line— get close and send them running. Then return here. Sorcerer, you'll wait with our mounts ready. When Calandryll returns, you both come fast."

  "And you?" Calandryll asked.

  "I'll do what I can to confuse them and meet you on the rim. Come forward at full gallop. Anomius—you'll use what magic you can then."

  The wizard nodded. Caland
ryll said, "What if you're ... delayed?"

  Bracht grinned, shrugging. "Leave that worry to me, my friend," he advised. "Once the horses are scattered you need only make the road. If worst comes to worst, I'll meet you lower down. If not... go on." He cut short Calandryll's protest with a curt gesture, turning to Anomius. "Wait here, sorcerer. Keep the horses quiet if you can."

  He beckoned to Calandryll, nocking a shaft. Calandryll flung the black cloak across his saddle and drew his sword. His mouth was dry and in his stomach something rebelled, fluttering nervously. Bracht smiled, tightly, and began to move down the road.