Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy

by Rosemary Fryth

  “Seems might be an accurate word, guardsman,” Trenny replied whilst walking up and carefully inspecting the steel smooth texture of the white granite walls, “For I very much doubt this place is deserted.”

  “Well one thing is obvious,” said Aran as he leant back and surveyed the featureless wall that rose before him, “There is no way in on this side.”

  “Perhaps the doors are disguised?” Bennek said, as he critically studied the granite.

  “As what, granite,” Kunek joked.

  “This is no laughing matter,” Bini said warily, his sun-darkened face creased with anxiety, “I do not like this place, and the sooner we are out of it the better.”

  Aran nodded, “Plainsman Bini Stardreamer speaks words of sense. The sooner we find our way in, then we can do what we have come to do, and then get out of here!”

  He turned to the Scout who was nervously hanging back at the rear of the group, “You are the only one who could know the mind of the men who built this place. Where would the entrance be?”

  The Scout looked over at the Free Provincial leader, and helplessly shrugged, “I cannot help you. I am not of the Maker’s Caste. It might be different in your country, but here the Castes rarely mix beyond their own people.”

  “Forget him,” barked Halffang from further off, “There are scent traces here of men and horses, it’s old but I can still follow it to its source.”

  “Where,” Aran turned immediately at the wolf’s words, completely forgetting the Scout.

  “Follow me,” shouted the wolf as it disappeared off to the left, its nose to the ground and its tail waving as a pennant and invitation both.

  Aran grinned wryly to the others, “What choice do we have? We follow.”

  *

  “Here,” barked the wolf, “The scent finishes here…”

  Aran stood before the featureless white wall, and slowly shook his head in bewilderment, “Are you certain?”

  The wolf whined and sat back on its haunches, “My nose is not deceitful. The scent ends here.”

  Aran turned back to the others, “So what now?”

  Drayden stepped up to the wall and examined it closely, “Our canine friend is right,” he said at last. “This wall is different.”

  Trenny stared shortsightedly at the granite, “I can’t see anything different about it.”

  “Look closer,” advised the High Earthmage, “There is a hair-line edge just here in the granite.”

  His gaze followed the almost invisible line upwards and across, “It seems to be in the outline of a large gate…” He turned away, shaking his head in wary amazement, “The technology and skill required to construct such an opening, and leave so little an indication of its presence is beyond belief.”

  “So how do we open it?” asked Alissa, always the practical one of the group.

  Drayden set his shoulder against the granite and pushed. Nothing happened.

  “Perhaps you have to pull it or push it out from the inside,” said Theaua helpfully from the back.

  Drayden turned and frowned at the other Earthmage, “That is not going to help us, Theaua. We can’t get on the inside to try.”

  “What about going over the top?” asked Bennek. “I mean we’ve been lugging these Glade ropes around for weeks now. We ought to get some use out of them.”

  “I could fly one end over,” volunteered Drayden, eyeing off the nearest pack in which the ropes had been stored.

  Aran nodded, “Give it a try then.”

  Without fuss the High Earthmage closed his eyes, then shaking himself ever so slightly, transformed into the familiar sea eagle. It did not take long for the others to find the glade ropes, coiled neatly at the bottom of one of the packs and pulling them out, unravelled the coils, and placed one end on the ground for the mage to take in his claws. Snapping it up in his talons and with a single heavy beat from his massive wings he leapt into the air. However the bird, despite his powerful wings, could only rise several yards with the rope before landing again. It took a moment or two for Drayden to transform back and his face was grey with effort.

  “…I’m not strong enough…” he gasped out.

  “It’s too heavy for you,” agreed Genn, eyeing off the strained mage. “There’s no way you could lift it Drayden, not without permanently hurting yourself.”

  The High Earthmage stared at the Healermage and slowly nodded, “I guess you’re right at that.”

  “So now what,” Theaua sighed dispiritedly turning her back on the white wall of the fortress, “Do we turn back now?”

  “Impossible,” snapped Trenny, “We have come so far and Mage Trevan’s death would have been for nothing.”

  “We can’t go back,” Alissa replied coldly, “Not now…”

  “Hush…” Aran cautioned, “I might have an idea…”

  Aran stared at the offending wall whilst fingering the familiar outline of his sword, an unbidden thought suddenly forming in his mind. His face lightened as the plan grew shape, then with a grin suddenly turned to the Weathermages.

  “I need cold,” he stated suddenly.

  Trenny stared blankly at his young king, “Cold? Isn’t it perishing cold enough for you already?”

  Hela frowned as she too tried to see reason in the strange request.

  Oddly it was Jede who immediately saw the implication of what Aran asked, “Cold? You mean to crack the gate?”

  Aran nodded, and gestured at the frost-broken boulders lying about them, “It’s been staring me in the face all this time. Suddenly it came to me that if we can concentrate extreme cold against the gate, then we may be able to weaken and break it.”

  Trenny frowned as he considered the plan, “It might work, depends on how thick that granite gate is.”

  “It can’t be too thick,” replied Darven suddenly, “Else it would be impossible to move.”

  “There’s truth in that,” muttered Bini unhappily, his plainsborn nature rebelling at his proximity to the heavy presence of the towering white walls.

  Hela turned to Trenny and nodded, “We can but try. I mean we’ve all come so far and it would be unforgivable to turn back now especially when we are so close.”

  Trenny eyed the wall, seeing now the faint outline of the gate and what he had to do.

  “Jede, come and reinforce us,” Trenny said abruptly, getting straight down to business. “Everyone else stand well away, it’s going to get mighty cold here soon.”

  Darven and Drayden both herded the others away, leaving Aran to stand watchful beside the Weathermages. He knew there were risks involved, but he was keen to see if his plan would work, and he knew that he had only an instant to strike before the intense cold faded, and the chance was over. In preparation, he unsheathed the King’s Sword and held it grimly by his side, the blade flaring fitfully in the cold winter light.

  Silently he watched as the two mages stared intensely at the plain white granite before them. Behind him he could hear Darven issuing commands to the Guard to ready themselves if the plan should work, and a successful breach made. As he watched and waited, he felt a deep and utter cold steal around him, as the mages, aided by Jede, pulled from the air and mountain every scrap of heat that could be gathered and drew it into themselves. Carefully warding the humans and wolves from their gathering, Aran felt the extreme cold nip around his nose and hands, seeking a way in past the wards in order to steal life and heat from his undefended body. As he watched, a pale sheen of white moved across the outline of the gate, making the white granite even paler than its original hue. The cold emanating from the stone walls was so intense that it was discernible even from where he stood. Hela stiffly turned her head, the strain visible in her eyes.

  “Strike now, my liege,” she mouthed painfully.

  Aran bent his head marginally in assent, then gathering his magepower within him, and with a great cry, stepped forward through the wall of freezing cold, and with his full Warriormage strength, brought the blade edge of the magecrafted sw
ord down upon the cold-weakened stone. Upon the impact the sword rang like a great bell, and before Aran’s eyes, stone chips flew out and narrow cracks grew across the full height of the stone gate.

  “You have undone what could not be undone,” the Scout cried softly.

  *

  “So now what?” asked Bennek, staring consideringly at the fracture lines emanating from the place where the sword had struck. “Can we breach it now?”

  Drayden pulled out an oak staff he had been using to aid his climbing, and rapped it soundly against the most fractured section of granite, immediately a number of large shards of rock fell away. He turned to the others and nodded to the gate, “We work at this section. It hopefully shouldn’t take us long to fully break through.”

  “We need the guardsman free in case there are defenders,” warned Darven with a frown.

  Drayden nodded, preoccupied.

  *

  An hour later there was a hole in the granite big enough for even the largest individual in the group to clamber through. To the surprise of everyone, there had been no opposition from inside, and now with the break in the gate clearly evident, the fortress stood silent and dark behind the breach. One by one, the group pulled themselves and their packs through the gap with the Warriormages going in ahead to resist any defence.

  “I don’t like it,” muttered Darven as he flexed his grip on his longsword, “It’s too quiet!”

  “I agree,” replied Aran, staring nervously at the high, white vaulting walls that soared around them, “There should be defenders.”

  On the other side of the breached gate, Aran and his friends found themselves standing on one end of a wide granite bridge which spanned a narrow, yet deep ditch which seemed to run the full perimeter of the inside fortress. Peering over the edge of the bridge, Aran could only see darkness below, a deep uncertain darkness that showed no discernible depth or limit to the ditch. On the other side of the bridge was another seamless wall which rose higher than the outside fortifications. Again their way was blocked by the sheer granite.

  “I can see why there are no defenders,” mused Drayden, “These walls alone would keep out any but the most determined.”

  “Yet we must again breach them…” said Aran staring up at the silent white walls. “I only hope that our way ahead will not always be so blocked; else it will take us till mid-summer to batter a way in.”

  “Time is something we do not have,” reminded Alissa from behind his shoulder. “Already our supplies are getting alarmingly low. In fact it will be necessary to raid food from this place if we are to make it back to our borders without us starving to death.”

  “How long will our current supplies last?” asked Darven woodenly.

  Alissa turned to the Wolf Leader, “a week and a half if we ration each mouthful.”

  Aran nodded his face grave, “You are right Alissa,” he agreed “We will raid food from Erie on our way back.” Aran shook his head angry at his own stupidity, “All this time I have not thought beyond my confrontation with the Thakur Warleader. It would be useless to achieve her destruction, without ensuring our own latter survival. That is if we survive the encounter at all,” he added darkly.

  “And it will take us longer to breach this wall,” warned Trenny. “Our magepower is not so great that we can do this thing so close upon the heels of the previous time.”

  He looked across at the offending wall and sighed, “Hela, Jede. We have work to do.”

  *

  This time it took the group two hours to smash a way in through the cold weakened stone, and to finally breach the towering inside granite wall. With the fighters again providing the vanguard, they clambered through the breach, to emerge into a long echoing hallway which stretched out seemingly into the very bowels of the fortress itself. Despite the fact that it was early afternoon outside on the mountain, the light on the inside was dim and decidedly greenish in hue, and seemed to emanate from long, narrow strips running from floor to ceiling and occurring at regular intervals in the white granite walls themselves.

  “Magepower?” asked Uhmar.

  Aran shook his head as he stared at the palely glowing strips, “No, not magepower. The light seems to be a natural property of the rock strips.”

  Drayden nodded, “That’s true. Some minerals will naturally produce light if mixed together.”

  Aran shook his head in wonderment, and turned his attention to the wide hallway roof which was entirely supported by massive carved columns and flying buttresses.

  “To be certain that it’s a wonder of building skill,” quietly Bennek muttered, voicing everyone’s thoughts, “But all the same I’d still like to know where all the defenders are—or is this place wholly deserted?”

  “For the moment it seems so,” Aran replied, settling his pack more comfortably across one shoulder, “So we go on, for we shall achieve little just standing here.”

  He turned to Ash, “You lead us Sage. Your link to the node shall be our guide in this place.”

  Sage Ash turned helplessly about, “I do sense the node, but it seems to be in that direction…” and he pointed to the middle left, beyond the stout walls of the hallway.

  Everyone stared silently in the direction of the Sage’s pointing finger.

  Aran sighed, “Despite our already breaching two gates Sage, in truth we cannot walk through walls.”

  Darven gazed ahead at the long hallway and then back at the breaches they had made and grinned ruefully, “Then Aran, I believe that going forward seems to be our only option.”

  *

  Despite trying to walk quietly, the still air of the hallway shook and echoed emptily to their footfalls, creating a long, almost discernible ground sound which was unnerving in the vaulted emptiness of the fortress. Along the hallway they moved, the reflected light from their naked swords flickering in flashes of blue and green. Each member of the group nervously scanned the deep shadows behind the carved pillars for ambush, or hidden attack by the fortresses missing defenders. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they safely reached the end of the hallway, which opened out into a large circular apse with five entrances, two of which seemed to be staircases leading upwards, higher into the fortress.

  “Where now?” asked Aran, gazing at the starkness of the white granite walls which were unrelieved by painted colour or softening tapestry.

  “There are runes carved into the lintel of each doorway,” observed Alissa, her bright, green eyes immediately picking out the differences in the granite.

  Aran nudged forward the Scout, “Can you read them?” he demanded.

  The Thakurian gazed at the ancient script and pursed his lips, “It is carved in the old language, the language of the Serat Makers. I cannot understand the runes fully. However, they all mostly seem to be runic statements of protection, defence and strength…”

  He pointed to the central doorway, “I can however decipher this one. It says, ‘Of Earth and Fire, Of Wing and Hoof, Of Seed and Grain, Of Air and Storm’.”

  “Stables and Stores perhaps?” mused Bini, edging forward.

  “There have been horses through here,” whined Halffang, his nose leading him to the entrance of the middle gate. “Not recently though, their scent is many days old.”

  He stood and lifted his head high, sniffing and listening, “There are no horses here now, only humans but deeper in and further off yet.”

  “Then we avoid them,” said Aran firmly, “For we have one purpose here and one purpose only, so we must attempt to avoid all unnecessary diversions and delays.”

  *

  With Sage Ash choosing the far left doorway, the group entered a maze-like series of connecting corridors and empty rooms which apart from a large number of carved granite bench seats and long tables pushed hard up against the walls, bore little or no indication of recent human habitation. The air in the fortress felt still and cool, and when occasionally they paused, waiting for the echoes of their passing to die away, nothing could be heard
beyond the panting of the wolves and their own nervous shuffling. Aran would, during these moments, silently scan the featureless white granite walls, and wonder about the purpose of this place—a purpose that was hidden and cloaked in cold, white mystery. At length he determined that the general feeling of the place was not so much of age and decay, but rather of newness and future promise—of resolution and things yet to be. It was as if Erie was waiting in dormancy for some future event, only then would these silent and lofty white granite halls echo and resound with life, movement and colour.

  ‘But what future event?’ thought Aran quizzically as they trudged through the endless and identical rooms and corridors, ‘By Andur, for what purpose?’

  *

  “Oh no!” exclaimed Hela, “Not again.”

  Aran and his friends had faithfully followed Sage Ash’s directions through the maze-like series of rooms, until disbelievingly they found themselves finally exiting out of the far right entrance of the circular apse. In some distress Ash stared across at the entrance through which he had led the group many hours ago, and wondered if his mage sense had entirely failed him.

  “I’m not surprised,” said Drayden, reassuringly clasping the younger man on the shoulder, “I felt somehow that we were all being turned around a number of times. I believe this may be how the fortress defends itself.”

  “Not the fortress, Drayden,” said Theaua suddenly, “Rather the node and the woman who controls it.”

  Drayden looked consideringly across at the other mage, “You think so.”

  Theaua nodded.

  Drayden gazed at the middle-left doorway that led upwards as a steep staircase, “We know to go left, perhaps this way will lead to the node?”

  It took the group ten minutes to ascend the steep stairway, before it opened out into a wide hallway that immediately led off to the left and right. Choosing the left way, Aran and his friends, all with some kind of weapon in hand, walked swiftly down the corridor, pausing when it veered immediately to the right.

  “Humans ahead,” growled Halffang, its nose constantly up and sniffing the air.