The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups

by Candace Gylgayton

  It was said that the founders of the Scholastium had fled the destruction of their former home in another land, coming to the shores of the Pentarchy soon after Gryffyd, first of the High Kings, and his children had arrived and established their rule. Recognizing themselves as distant brethren, Gryffyd had allowed the archmage and his followers to refound their school within his domain. The mage masters were free to conduct their own business without interference so long as they refrained from either using their powers to the Pentarchy's detriment or trying to influence the internal workings of the Pentarchy in any way. They were an encapsulated entity living both within and without the Pentarchy. The oath they had sworn was to King Gryffyd himself and from that time on they only treated directly with House Sandovar's ruler when the occasion warranted it.

  Colin de Chantalcalm and his wife knew the city of Dacara well, having spent many years there when attending the Scholastium as students, and so did not lose their way when a thrown horseshoe slowed them down, forcing them to enter the city after dark. The Scholastium lay in the northern precincts of the city, which meant that, to reach their destination, they had to follow a circuitous route through the labyrinth of streets that comprised the central, commercial center of Dacara.

  They had escaped the fall of Pentarin with few possessions and unquiet hearts. Leaving Michael and Renard behind had been difficult for them, regardless of the men’s own assurances of their relative safety. Somewhere to the south their children were in hiding, their security a thing of the moment. A small band of servants and minor palace nobles had left with them, but most had turned aside, once free of danger, to find asylum with family or friends in the countryside. When their entourage finally reached Dacara, only Dinea's personal lady-in-waiting and three guards were still with their master and mistress.

  Hidden in the black shadows cast by the light of a waning moon, Colin rapped softly, a distinct pattern of knocks alerting the doorkeeper to the fact that on the other side of the wall was one who had knowledge of the Scholastium. They waited expectantly for several minutes and then repeated the code. Again they waited in the lee of the doorway for an agonizingly long time. Then came the sound of metal against wood and a grilled opening in the door revealed the suspicious face of the night gatekeeper. Stepping up to the door Colin showed his face and spoke in a rapid, urgent tone of voice. The peephole was abruptly closed and the door was swung open in invitation. Colin and Dinea entered eagerly but their retainers hung back in fear and awe until coaxed into following.

  The door opened onto a narrow passageway formed by the exterior wall of the Scholastium's grounds and the wall of one of the buildings. Holding a small lamp up to inspect each of the late night visitors, the doorkeeper satisfied himself that they were who they claimed. Nothing further was said as they followed the man into the complex of buildings of which the Scholastium consisted. Black shadows thrown against the whiteness of the walls made it difficult to see anything clearly. They were led eventually to a building that Colin and Dinea remembered as being in the center of the Scholastium, used chiefly by the mage masters themselves. In a small anteroom with benches lining three of the walls they were asked to wait while their presence was made known. Both Colin and Dinea realized that they would be expected, despite their exhaustion, to give a full accounting of themselves and their mission before they could ask for sanctuary.

  They sat in silence for a very long time waiting for the gatekeeper to announce their arrival. Dinea's feet and hands had grown numb by the time he returned, and her maid had fallen asleep on the bench beside her. The gatekeeper motioned for them to follow and they all trooped after him into the main rotunda of the building, where they were met by a tall, lanky man of indeterminate age wearing the deep blue-black robes of a Master. Both Colin and Dinea bowed low before him, and the servants, observing their lord and lady, followed suit.

  "You come out of the night in much haste seeking us," the mage said with a quizzical smile.

  "We come seeking sanctuary and begging help, Master Ciaran," Colin said earnestly.

  Ciaran lifted his eyebrows. "So I see. Well, come now and explain yourselves to we who are assembled here. Your followers may go with Lorrel and be fed." Colin and Dinea, assuring their people that they would be safe and cared for, ordered them to go with the man who now appeared in the doorway. Ciaran turned on his heel and they followed him up the staircase.

  Only two of the masters were seated at the semi-circular table in the audience chamber when they entered. The table of black wood, burnished to an almost glassy sheen, eerily reflected the pale faces of those sitting at it. The room itself was circular and hung with dark blue curtains of non-reflective velvet that seemed to catch at and absorb all light. A plain chandelier hung from the ceiling, its candles casting strange shadows on the faces that sat studying the late-night visitors. Without betraying the nervousness they felt coming thus before those they had called "master" in the past, they bowed formally and continued standing. Ciaran left them to take his seat. It was noted uneasily by both Colin and Dinea that the chair of the archmage was not occupied.

  "Colin de Chantalcalm and Dinea Caterin de Rommel, we recognize you both as being Arcane Adepts of our teaching and therefore welcome you within our walls." The master known as Urien greeted them.

  "We thank you for allowing us access," Colin replied formally. Here his status as a noble and Head of a Minor House counted for little.

  "For you to arrive at night and with so few attendants is unusual enough for an explanation to be demanded," Urien continued.

  "You have had word of the death of Lord Percamber?" Colin began. Heads were nodded. "Let me begin by telling you of some of the events that occurred prior to his death..."

  As Colin spoke eyes gleamed and heads nodded or shook slightly, but he was left to speak uninterrupted. During this time Dinea studied the faces listening to her husband. These three she knew from her years spent here. There were times when the faces of the mage masters seemed more like sublime masks than the countenances of ordinary men and women. All resembled each other in possessing an aura of command and forcefulness. Having lived and studied here, she knew that they, like herself and Colin, had been born with certain attributes which skill and training had honed to an advanced degree of expertise

  "...and so we fled here to beg that you might intercede and help us preserve the integrity of the Pentarchy."

  Three pairs of eyes continued to gaze at them with unwavering intensity. Urien spoke again. "As spokesman for the Scholastium, I take it upon myself to grant you sanctuary. However, just as none shall enter these walls to take you, none shall leave these walls to aid you." His voice was as implacable as his pronouncement.

  "Master Urien, do you understand the ramifications of what I have been telling you?" Colin countered unexpectedly. The mage's eyes fastened on him more intently; Urien was unused to having his judgments questioned. "Up until now the Pentarchy has protected and preserved you and this Scholastium. Are you saying that you will let the Pentarchy be torn apart?"

  "It will not be torn apart; it will simply take a new form," was Urien's unruffled answer.

  "And what is to prevent Niall from attacking the Scholastium or forcing the Scholastium to leave Dacara?" Colin pressed.

  "The Duke of Mirvanovir is hardly such a fool. No Colin, our charter firmly states that we are not to meddle in the internal affairs of the Pentarchy. We may offer you and Dinea Caterin sanctuary here because you were once our students, but, I repeat, neither we nor any under our rule will wage warfare of any kind within the Pentarchy."

  "And what if they use magic as a weapon?" Dinea's voice was heard for the first time.

  "Were arcane means used to overcome Pentarin?" Urien cocked his head to one side.

  "No, but Rashara de Sharonnara is a skilled adept and not above using such powers to further her own gain," Dinea argued. "If they are willing to forget their oaths of loyalty to House Sandovar, what is to prevent them from engaging in arc
ane warfare to achieve their goal?"

  There was a chuckle from the one mage who had not yet spoken to them. "And yet, you come here asking us to use our arcane powers to help you?" His amusement was plainly derisive.

  "Malvasius!" Urien's rebuked his compatriot mildly. "Malvasius is right," he said, returning his attention to them. "Even if we were willing to break our charter, you are asking us to give you what is essentially an unfair advantage. The use of arcane energies in such a negative sphere as war would have severe repercussions. There are very few who could handle such power wisely and not have it turn back upon them." His face became remote and severe.

  Tired and discouraged, knowing that further argument was pointless and not wanting to offend their hosts, Colin bowed his head in resignation. "We thank you for allowing us to stay among you for the time being, until we can decide what we must do next."

  Urien nodded, contented that they had accepted his decree. "Go now and refresh yourselves from the rigors of your journey. Within these walls you are secure." Bowing to the masters, Colin and Dinea left the room.

  Once outside, a novice was found waiting to take them to the room that had been readied for them while they talked with the masters. As in their student days they were housed in simple dormitory rooms much like everyone else who dwelt here, saving the masters. Pushing the two single beds together in the room that they were shown to, so at least they would have the comfort of sharing a bed, they spoke little as they readied themselves for sleep. Both were too tired and too depressed by the negative response of the masters to want to discuss anything further that night. For now, they were in a safe harbour and would wait until morning to look to the future.

  Chapter 20

  Ian spent most of the morning at Swordmaster Griswold's side, seeing to the fortifications of Castle Lir. The news that had reached him three days ago from Morna was disheartening in the extreme, and he was beginning to feel the unrelenting weight of his responsibilities threatening to overwhelm him. He had seen the contempt in his grandfather's eyes when he gave over the command of Langstraad's troops sent to aid Creon. He did not bother to try to explain why he was sending less than Branwilde asked for, nor did he offer excuses for not leading the army himself. He simply and curtly gave his grandfather the orders as the Duke Regent of Langstraad to his vassal, the Baron de Medicat. If his grandfather and Branwilde wanted to assume that he acted out of cowardice, then they would have to live with that assessment. Ian had far more urgent problems to cope with.

  Word had come from Morna that the army led by the Earl of the Inner Ward, larger and better equipped than originally thought, had crossed over the border and was in the process of invading Langstraad. Ian had sent contingents north to help Alwyn's forces, if they could; and to fall back, resorting to ambush, attack and retreat strategies, if they could not join with Morna's army. Then came the news of Alwyn's defeat and Idris' surrender of her castle. Knowing that Brescom would now spearhead his army south towards Castle Lir, Ian had feverishly been working to evacuate all of his people from the path that the enemy would cut through northern Langstraad and to ready his own castle for siege.

  Presently the castle was filled to capacity with frightened villagers and their animals. Dame Edwinna was in charge of finding space within the castle to house these victims of the greed of powerful men. Ian had charged his personal secretary and acting seneschal, Squire Alaric, with finding tasks for the new residents and speeding the evacuation of children and those who could not hold up to the stress of a long siege to places of refuge far back in the mountains. Like a hive of bees making ready to withstand a harsh winter, the halls and rooms, the courtyards and the great field swarmed with constant activity.

  As he strode across the field at Griswold's heels, Ian could see that the older man was looking forward with a certain relish to the coming assault. The old warrior barked orders as they marched along, peering into every open doorway and assuring himself that all that could be done to ready themselves was so being done.

  "You see lad...I mean, m'lord," Griswold said with a vast wave of his arm. "Castle Lir has never been taken in all the ages that it has stood here. She's completely impregnable!" He beamed at this witticism, to which Ian offered a wan smile. Griswold tended to forget that Ian was now the acting duke, and now he patted the duke on the shoulder and genially continued enumerating the remarkable defenses of their citadel. For the most part, Ian was happy to let the swordmaster use his knowledge as he saw fit. Ian only asked that he be kept informed of what was being done.

  Together they stood and observed a band of men, attired in green with shortswords at their sides and cross-bows slung by leather thongs over their backs, riding in through the northern gate. Griswold raised his hand and one of the riders, catching his signal, turned his horse and brought the company to a halt before them. The rider dismounted and Ian saw by his badge of office that he was the captain of this company. With respectful bows to both men, the captain quickly gave them the most recent news from the north. The baroness' castle in Morna was said to have been fired by Brescom's army as they prepared to move south, and Lady Idris was known to be his hostage, though whether she traveled with the army or had been sent in custody into the Inner Ward or to Pentarin was unknown. The captain and his men were part of a larger company sent north by Sir Owain, Lir's Master of Horse, to harry the Inner Ward's forces. They had come across the hostile army a day's ride south of Morna's border with central Langstraad making a straight line for Castle Lir. They reported that Lord Brescom's men were well disciplined and well trained. That, and their patent interest in moving south as quickly as possible, attributed to the general lack of damage being done to the countryside and the people as they passed through. The members of the company had split up, fanning out in small groups through the hills, to begin persistent raids against the flanks of the army as it moved south. Like mosquitoes in a swamp, they attacked, drew small amounts of blood and then retreated. The invaders, however, were bullishly ignoring them as they continued to push ever nearer to their goal.

  His final piece of news, before being sent to find food and shelter for his men and horses, was that the vanguard of the army was now within half a day's march of Castle Lir. After the captain and his men departed, Griswold fixed Ian with a sharp look.

  "Well, this be it then. We'd best be bringin' the last of them in an' sealin' the doors."

  Ian's mouth pulled down in a grimace of anticipation and annoyance. "I'd hoped that we would have another couple of days to prepare," he muttered. "It irks me to have to hide like this behind walls, doing so little."

  Griswold's strong white teeth showed above his fringe beard. "Oh, t'will not be so little that we will be doing. The earl will be forced to sit here on our doorstep instead of marching south to join his master. We'll be able to pick them off from the walls and our men will continue harassing them from without. It's not the best of situations but," here he shrugged his massive shoulders, "t'will do until the fortunes of war change sides." With this bit of enigmatic philosophy, Griswold took his leave and Ian trudged wearily back to the castle.

  When the Earl of the Inner Ward came to Castle Lir he found it shut fast and tight against him. A wall of rocks and arrows was poured upon his army to remind them to keep their distance from the massive stone walls. Retreating out of range, Lord Brescom sat on his horse, looking out at those walls, buttressed against the mountain, and planned his siege. He knew, through his spies, that the new duke regent had not gone south with his army to aid Creon, but was holed up within the castle; which bespoke, to one of Brescom's temperament, a fair amount of pusillanimity. Ordering his army to spread out, forming a net to catch any who might venture forth from the gates, the earl sent for an envoy to convey his ultimatum to those cloistered within the castle.

  The message was delivered under the white flag of parley but an answer was not immediately forthcoming when it was discovered that Lord Ian was not in any of his accustomed places within the castle or
its grounds. Griswold, who had received the earl's courier, left the man under the watchful eye of the Captain of the Gate and carried the sealed missive himself up to the main castle. But even within the confines of the castle's keep his lordship's current whereabouts were a mystery. Finally Griswold tracked down Ian's secretary, Alaric, who admitted having been with his lordship earlier in the day but had no notion as to where to find him now. A search was begun, but after an hour's hunting he was still missing.

  Griswold became anxious, not entirely for Ian's safety but because he guessed the content of the message and felt that a delay in answering was a betrayal of indecision and weakness on their part. Thus, when Dame Edwinna returned from questioning the servants in Ian's personal quarters, Griswold asked for an audience with the lady of the castle. For several seconds Edwinna stood blinking in confusion at him. "Do you mean the Lady Angharad?" she asked incredulously, thinking that perhaps she had misunderstood him.

  "Aye, she's his wife and that makes her the castle's lady," he replied impatiently.

  Refraining from expressing her doubts about the girl's exact position in the castle's hierarchy, let alone her competence to deal with the matter Griswold carried with him, Edwinna went off to find and inform the girl that the Commander of the Garrison wished to speak to her. She found the lady of the castle in her rooms, listlessly gazing out of a window, an activity that Edwinna had surprised her at many times. Angharad's face turned from boredom to bewilderment as Dame Edwinna discharged her errand.