The Magelands Box Set

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘So speaks a princess,’ Daphne smiled.

  ‘Not one through choice, believe me,’ Shella said. ‘Although, I am getting used to some of the perks.’

  ‘Mansion, servants, carriages,’ Daphne said.

  ‘There’s a whole ton of boring shit as well, though,’ Shella said. ‘A lot of waiting around, and meeting stupid people. And, having to attend meetings at the embassy, where they all hate my guts, though none of them dare say it to my face.’

  ‘Still not won over the ambassador with your charms?’ Daphne said.

  ‘He hates me the most,’ she said. ‘Little asswipe.’

  ‘Anyway, miss,’ Laodoc said, ‘there was something her Highness and I wished to discuss with you, before we arrive at the palace.’

  Shella nodded. ‘Within the last few days,’ she said, ‘both Lord Scaly and myself have received visits from Holdings agents.’

  ‘From the church?’ she said.

  Laodoc and Shella shared a look.

  ‘Yes, miss,’ the old Rahain said. ‘Now, I’ve been interviewed several times since arriving, by military officials, representatives of the crown, and so on, but this visit was different.’

  ‘What did they want?’

  ‘Looks like they’re trying to set up a register of all foreign mages,’ Shella said.

  Daphne narrowed her eyes. ‘Then why were they visiting you, Laodoc?’

  The old man flushed. ‘I may have neglected to tell you this,’ he said, ‘but I do have a very small amount of powers. To be honest, thirds can go by and I forget I have them, and I haven’t used them in years. Decades, maybe.’

  ‘What can you do?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘It’s embarrassing really,’ he went on. ‘Move a few grains of sand. A very unimpressive party trick.’

  ‘Then how did the church find out?’

  ‘That, miss,’ he said, ‘is what worries me a little. I’ve told no one here that I possess these meagre powers, after all, they’re of no use to anyone, but the church agent seemed to know about my range of abilities precisely.’

  Daphne considered.

  ‘I wonder if the Creator has a way to tell?’

  ‘Oh, miss,’ Laodoc sighed. ‘With no disrespect intended, I cannot bring myself to believe in the Holdings religion. I know how dearly the people here worship their creator, but I would need to see some evidence before I’m convinced.’

  ‘You’re way too polite, old lizardman,’ Shella said. ‘The Holdings religion is the biggest pile of crap I’ve ever heard. How convenient, for your prophets to be the only ones in the world who can magically hear the voice of god. They can make up anything they like, without ever being disproved or contradicted. Dress this way, don’t have sex with them, don’t do this, don’t do that…’

  Daphne frowned. She had confided in both of them about the time the Creator had spoken to her in the depths of the Sanang forest, but knew they believed she had hallucinated it.

  ‘Life would be a lot simpler if you were right,’ she muttered, ‘but I know there’s a Creator.’

  ‘Sorry, miss,’ Laodoc said. ‘We didn’t mean to offend.’

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ Shella said.

  Daphne gazed out of the window, watching the wide streets of the elegant new town go by.

  ‘I got a visit too,’ she said.

  ‘You did?’

  ‘It’s not just foreign mages they want to speak to,’ Daphne said, ‘it’s all of them.’

  ‘What did they say?’ Shella asked.

  Daphne pursed her lips.

  ‘They wanted me to know that the church is aware I have more powers than I showed at my examination, when I was a teenager. They asked me how I’d discovered I had more abilities, and how I’d seemed to learn them so well, despite having received no instruction from the church.’ She looked at Shella. ‘They even asked if Rijon had secretly taught me.’

  ‘And did he?’ Shella asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ Daphne said. ‘As if I’d take lessons from that awful man. He wouldn’t have helped me anyway.’

  ‘I know he’s in the city,’ Shella frowned, ‘but he’s not been to see me. I’ve left him messages at the church offices, but he’s never around when I visit. I don’t understand, I thought he was my friend.’

  Daphne said nothing.

  ‘So how did you learn?’ Laodoc asked.

  ‘Desperation, trial and error, and a tonne of keenweed.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Laodoc smiled, ‘I remember.’

  ‘So they want to employ you again?’ Shella asked.

  ‘They said they were interested,’ Daphne said, ‘but that they would leave me alone to have the baby before they would approach me again.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘They were polite,’ Daphne said, ‘so I was too. I didn’t accept or decline. Just said I would speak to them again after the baby arrives.’

  ‘I told them to piss off,’ Shella said, ‘and that my powers were none of their damn business. They seemed to half expect it, wrote some things down in their book, and left.’

  ‘There’s that Shella charm again,’ Daphne said.

  ‘I’m not here to make friends,’ she said. ‘I’m here to warn the King about the Rahain.’

  ‘I think the threat from my homeland has slipped down the King’s priorities,’ Laodoc said. ‘The small matter of an approaching army of vengeful Sanang warriors may have refocused his attention.’

  ‘I seriously thought,’ Shella said, ‘that when I gave my evidence to the royal court, describing everything that happened at Akhanawarah, that the King would, I don’t know, do something.’

  ‘Didn’t his Majesty send out a proclamation,’ Laodoc said, ‘condemning the destruction of your city as genocide? He used fairly strong language, if I recall.’

  ‘Just words,’ Shella said. ‘Words won’t bring justice. And now our claim has to wait, until the apes are dealt with.’

  ‘I’m not sure it’ll be as simple as that,’ Daphne said.

  Shella shrugged. ‘I heard the Sanang have no siege weapons, no long-range artillery, no ships, and very little supplies. The walls of this city are far too strong to be assaulted successfully by a mob of kilt-wearing monkeys.’

  Daphne nodded, saying nothing.

  Their carriage stopped in the main courtyard in front of the palace, passing through a set of iron gates leading from the main road. The palace was still under construction, and was robed in scaffolding, and half a dozen spindly cranes were arranged over the half-built towers and domes. Like all of the mansions in the aristocratic quarter, it was being made from the local light-grey granite, streaked with flecks of silver. Already it was the highest building in the city, although the university spires and the cathedral’s pinnacles were rising up to rival it.

  A courtier and an escort of guards were waiting for them as they stepped down from the carriage.

  ‘Your Royal Highness,’ they bowed at Shella.

  The courtier turned to Daphne and Laodoc.

  ‘Welcome my Lord Laodoc, and Miss Holdfast,’ he said, bowing again, though not as low as he had for Shella. ‘If you would kindly follow me.’

  ‘Miss,’ he said to Daphne as they walked, ‘his Majesty’s private audience chamber has not yet been finished. Until it is ready, his Majesty is meeting supplicants and petitioners in a smaller reception hall on the ground floor, away from the noise and dust of the construction work.’

  The courtier raised his hand and they stopped to allow a troop of household cavalry to pass before them, their horses decked out in full ceremonial gear. Their officer, a tall woman of noble bearing, was leading them, and as she passed she gave Daphne the tiniest of nods.

  Daphne watched them as they began to run through their practice drills. She picked out a few mares that she recognised from their chestnut colouring as having come from Hold Fast, and her heart swelled.

  ‘Miss?’ the courtier said. ‘His Majesty is waiting.’

  ‘Of c
ourse,’ she said, as they started walking again. ‘Apologies.’

  They crossed to the large, and mostly completed, northern wing of the palace, and entered through an enormous door, passing a dozen troopers in full armour.

  The courtier led the way through the long corridors, their boots clacking on the marble floor, and to a set of double doors.

  As they approached, two guards pulled the doors open, revealing a large hall.

  Daphne followed the courtier inside. The walls were draped in rich tapestries, lit by the continuous row of clerestory windows that lined the walls under the barrel-vaulted ceiling. At the end of the hall sat the King, upon a throne, elevated several feet above the floor on a dais. Behind him on the wall was the green, gold and silver standard of the Realm.

  The courtier halted when they were twenty paces from the throne. The King gazed down at them.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ the courtier called out, ‘may I present her Royal Highness Princess Shellakanawara, and the honourable Councillor Laodoc of the Rahain Republic.’

  Shella and Laodoc each took a step forward, bowed, then moved to the side.

  The King nodded.

  ‘And may I introduce,’ the courtier went on, ‘Miss Daphne Holdfast, here in answer to your royal summons.’

  King Guilliam watched as she walked forwards and bowed.

  ‘Miss Daphne,’ he said, ‘how good to see you at last.’

  ‘The honour is mine, your Majesty,’ she replied, bowing again.

  ‘Quite a few of our counsellors,’ the King said, looking amused, ‘were set against the very notion of inviting you into our presence.’

  Daphne said nothing, but noticed the glances being shared among the people who flanked the throne. To the King’s right stood his queen, Mirren Blackhold, with Chamberlain Prior and Field Marshal Howie. On his left stood the Lord Vicar, the prophet’s representative in Plateau City, and other church officials. Skulking near the back she noticed Rijon.

  ‘It seems, miss,’ the King went on, ‘that despite our late beloved sister’s pardon, and despite even the church’s official statement of reconciliation, there remain some here who will forever connect your name to infamy and scandal. And now, young miss, returning home in your… condition, has certainly set tongues wagging.’

  Daphne bowed again. ‘I’m sure your Majesty did not invite me here to discuss my reputation.’

  ‘Quite,’ the King laughed. ‘No, it was for a different matter altogether. We have learned that the commander of the Sanang forces currently ravaging their way through the Plateau is the same man who held you captive.’

  ‘Agang Garo, your Majesty?’

  ‘Indeed, it is he. Our mage-priests have confirmed it.’ The King’s eyes narrowed. ‘They have also confirmed something else. Namely, the presence in Agang Garo’s company of a certain subject of this Realm, someone the cavalry have identified as a Lieutenant Chane of Hold Clement.’

  Daphne lowered her head.

  ‘The recent heinous massacre of our border garrison,’ the King said, ‘had all the hallmarks of someone with intimate understanding of Holdings military tactics. Is it possible Miss Holdfast, that Lieutenant Chane has been collaborating with the enemy?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘And what of Agang Garo?’ the King said. ‘What is he like?’

  ‘Intelligent, your Majesty,’ Daphne said, ‘and organised, methodical. I was a captive for a few thirds over the summer of five-oh-three, and he attempted to subvert me a few times. I can only imagine he was doing the same with the other captives. His soldiers were already the most disciplined and effective of any in Sanang when I was there. By now, with nearly two years gone, and if Chane has been assisting him, then his army will be powerful indeed.’

  There were a few suppressed scoffs from those standing next to the King.

  ‘And,’ the King said, ‘what does he want?’

  ‘I don’t know, your Majesty,’ she said. ‘All he talked about with me were his ideas for uniting and civilising Sanang, schools, government, laws. He never discussed invading the Plateau, or any other military operation. If I had to speculate, I would say that, in Sanang a leader has to prove to the other chiefs that they are a warrior first and foremost, and that the others have pressured Agang into this invasion.’

  The King nodded. ‘Is he a mage?’

  ‘No, your Majesty,’ Daphne said. ‘In Sanang, mages are never allowed to lead. Memories of the soulwitches, I think, though they would never discuss this with me in any detail.’

  The King looked across to the Lord Vicar, who shook his head.

  ‘Soulwitches?’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty,’ Daphne said. ‘That’s their word for their highest ranked mages, I believe. Agang Garo told me that they used to rule as tyrants, and were overthrown a century ago. A civil war ended their rule, but also caused the anarchy they have experienced since.’

  The King raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Thank you, miss,’ he said. ‘That is all we require from you at present, but please feel free to remain, to witness the other business of the court, if you desire.’

  ‘Thank you, your Majesty.’

  Daphne bowed, and went over to where Shella and Laodoc were standing to the left, alongside a group of noble petitioners.

  A herald stepped forward.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ she called out. ‘Next to speak is the master of the Old Town Guilds, come to petition about the Sanang advance.’

  A man walked out from the group to Daphne’s left, and approached the throne.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘The Guild are looking for assurances that naval trade will not be hindered by the arrival of the Sanang, and have also asked me to voice concern regarding the course of the emergency wall currently being constructed. If the plans are correct, then both the peasant quarter on the East Bank, and the Kellach Brigdomin camp, will be outside the protection of the city walls when the Sanang get here.’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ the King replied, ‘there is no alternative. We have a limited amount of time before the enemy arrives, and that time is not sufficient to complete the full circuit of walls. Any Kellach that volunteers for our armed forces, and who is deemed to be of suitable moral fibre, will be integrated into the city garrisons. We can do no more.’

  The master of the guilds nodded, his head bowed.

  ‘As for your first question,’ the King went on, ‘we are happy to assure you that one of the main priorities of our government will be to maintain the current levels of naval trade. Indeed, with an army of Sanang barbarians at the walls, the harbour becomes our lifeline, our means to withstand any siege. While the savages hurl themselves in vain at our mighty walls, our ships will keep our people fed until the army I have summoned from the Realm arrives.’

  ‘Thank you, your Majesty,’ the master said, then backed away, returning to the group near Daphne.

  The herald stepped forward again.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ she called out, ‘next to speak is the most excellent ambassador of Arakhanah City.’

  Daphne heard Shella let out a sigh, as a Rakanese man approached the throne.

  ‘Your exulted Majesty and Holder of the Realm,’ he said, ‘the embassy of the Rakanese people asks you if a decision has been reached regarding punitive action against our oppressors, the Rahain Republic?’

  ‘Thank you for this question,’ the King replied. ‘Before I answer, may I ask if the latest supplies of aid to your stricken people arrived without hindrance or delay?’

  ‘They did, your Majesty, thank you.’

  ‘And the recent loan, of thirty million gold sovereigns,’ the King said, ‘is your government finding it useful?’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty, thank you.’

  ‘Good,’ the King said. ‘Now, this realm believes in dealing with one enemy at a time, and with an army of Sanang approaching, the fact is that the Rahain Republic will have to wait their turn.’

  The ambassador nodded.

  �
�We are prepared however,’ the King went on, ‘to offer you a small token of our intent. We hear that you are requesting the condemnation of the Kellach Brigdomin fire mage, one Keira ae Caela ae Kell, as the woman responsible for the incineration of the royal city of Akhanawarah, and the murder of its ruler, Queen Oblikanawara.’

  Shella glanced at Daphne.

  ‘I didn’t know about any of this,’ she whispered.

  ‘Therefore, we hereby proclaim,’ the King said, ‘that the aforementioned Keira, fire mage of the Kellach Brigdomin, is condemned as a war criminal for the genocide of the Rakanese people. A warrant shall be issued, and she will be arrested if she sets foot within the Realm.’ He gazed down at the ambassador. ‘We hope this pleases you.’

  ‘Indeed, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘The Rakanese are most grateful.’

  The King smiled. ‘As they should be.’

  Chapter 12

  The Severed Clan

  Mountains south-east of Rahain Capital, Rahain Republic – 5th Day, Last Third Summer 505

  Killop peered through the undergrowth, and across the dry dusty scrubland. Ahead rested a squad of Rahain scouts, sitting round a small fire next to an olive grove, eating and drinking.

  ‘We should take them out, Chief,’ Larissa whispered, ‘in case they see us.’

  ‘Too risky,’ he said. ‘There’s a winged gaien tied up behind them. If one of the soldiers manages to fly off on it before we get to them, then the entire Rahain army will be onto us.’

  Larissa frowned.

  Killop gestured to her, and they crawled back down the ridge. At the bottom they turned, and walked for half an hour until they reached a narrow valley, where over two hundred and fifty Kellach Brigdomin fugitives hid from the late summer sun, under a thick blanket of brambles and wild olive trees.

  Killop crouched and went under the branches of a squat and gnarly bush, where Bridget and Dominic sat. He was sweating from the heat, and covered in dust. Bridget handed him a skin of water, and he drank.