Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy

by Rosemary Fryth

  “How long can the Sages hold out?” asked Taran, watching as a brief river of molten rock opened between the provincial army and the advancing Thakurian infantry, “They’ve been at it for hours now without a moment’s break.”

  “They are already tiring,” replied the Archmage grimly, “Unfortunately the truth of it is that the Sages are really too far from the source of their energy to be effective. I’ve come to warn you that you’ll only have the mage support until dark, and then it’s up to you.”

  “Damn!” growled Sennar, “I hope our defenses hold this time. As soon as that heavy cavalry know we’re again without the mages they’ll attack.”

  *

  “They’re moving.”

  “Damn…I was hoping they’d not come on us tonight,” Sennar irritably gnawed on one torn fingernail, “Has the line been warned?”

  “Aye…and Cenn’s been given both his own and the remainder of Urskar’s men. They know what to expect, as do all the others.”

  He held the bridle of his fretful grey gelding, “I hope those new commanders of the third infantry legions know what they’re about. This is as tough a testing of a new command as anyone’s ever had.”

  “Where’s Taran and his Guards?” asked Sennar, looking up and down the dark line, “Have they been warned to expect a heavy attack,”

  “With the fyrd,” the other replied, “Since the hammering they received the other day, the fyrd refuses to move without the Guard at their side.” He grinned sourly, “Even if they’re just peasants with pitchforks at least they are another line of defence,”

  Sennar’s mouth curled disdainfully, “When it comes to the pinch the fyrd will be worse than useless. I really don’t know why Taran wasted so much time training them…”

  “They held last time,” Terdec coldly reminded him, “When others didn’t.”

  Terdec looked up at the steadily advancing heavy cavalry, “At least we are prepared this time…” He swung onto the back of his horse, “I’m off to join my Legion.” Terdec saluted the other first cavalry commander, “Andur keep you safe!”

  “And you,” muttered Sennar, as he watched the other ride off, “And you.”

  *

  Relentlessly they came, like a wave of darkness cresting, before coming down hard upon the shore. The ground rumbled and shook to the steel-shod hooves, echoing grim tidings of how great a force was deployed against the provincial lines. Company after company, row after row cantered their battle-trained mounts forward, eyeing with derision the feeble defenses of the army before them. The gHulam were confident. They had seen the withdrawal of the mages and realised just how certain was their victory. Their orders had been explicit and simple, to utterly crush any resistance, and decimate the broken army arrayed before them. Their victory would herald the now almost complete Serat rise. Imperceptibly they urged their mounts faster, their minds filled with images of death and slaughter. The first of the fissures lay before them…such a minor inconvenience…they wondered why their enemy had even bothered to try and impede them. Lowering their lances tipped with the blood splashed snapping pennants they focused their attention on the army ahead. On an army that would soon be howling for Serat mercy…howling in vain as the terrible hammer of Serat justice fell upon these accursed people…

  The waiting provincial army did not know exactly when the Thakurian horns started blowing, but before long the night sky was echoing to the distant sound. The call of the horns was loud, commanding, and imperative in its demand, and the faltering ranks of the provincial army almost broke at the terror of it. The Legion commanders who stood waiting, each certain of their deaths, looked up at the sound, and to their utter disbelief saw the rapidly encroaching heavy cavalry falter at the first strident blasts. To those who watched from the provincial defenses, the dark tide of the Thakur cavalry seemed to pause, and suddenly fall in upon itself. Confusedly the heavy cavalry wheeled their mounts about; their gazes pulled from the alluring sight of the weakened ranks of the provincial forces, then back to the demanding call of the Serat horns. Finally, one by one, the gHulam reluctantly broke the charge. Line by line, the impetus of the heavy cavalry faltered and stopped, as the horns commanded that they turn back to their own distant lines.

  *

  “What in Andur’s name is going on?” cried Sennar astounded as he watched the entire Thakur force turn, and proudly ride back towards their borders.

  “They seem to be calling the retreat Sir,” replied one of the legio near him, the young cavalryman’s voice shaking with emotion and relief.

  “Huh?” Sennar was beyond words.

  “But why?” breathed another man by his side, “Why in Andur’s name should they retreat now? They knew that victory was theirs.”

  “Only the Goddess knows,” replied a legio wonderingly, “For it would seem to be that she alone has had the saving of us.”

  “I can’t explain it,” said Terdec distractedly, “I mean they were almost upon us, and then they just turned around and rode back to their borders.”

  “What in Andur’s name drove them away?” worried Alune, “And how soon will they be back?”

  He glanced up at the others, “This could be a ploy to make us break ranks and follow on after them?”

  Cenn shook his head dismissively, “Their strength alone could have broken our ranks. They did not have to rely on underhanded ploys to overcome us.”

  “I had a good look at their faces,” Sennar added. “They were as confused as we were. I think they fully intended to continue the charge but their horns pulled them back.”

  “And that was no retreat,” muttered Terdec. “I even saw one Thakurian lass pause, pull out one of those hand mirrors, and adjust her braids. I saw no fear…only contempt and disdain.”

  “So what was the cause?” asked Alune “Should we too fear the cause of their retreat?”

  “The war is over. Why should we fear our king’s victory?” said a quiet voice from the tent door.

  The Legion Commanders turned as one to see the Archmage, Sage Oak and Captain Taran standing quietly by, broad smiles upon their faces.

  “Did I hear you correctly?” growled Sennar. “Did you say that the war is over?”

  “Aye,” breathed Soltec, “How in Andur’s name was that achieved, especially since up to a little while ago we were facing almost certain defeat?”

  The Archmage smiled wryly, “Going by the retreat of the Thakurian forces, it seems certain that King Arantur and his companions have been successful in their quest. The Thakurian Warleader is almost certainly dead, and as you can see her armies put to flight.”

  “I beg to disagree, Archmage,” muttered Terdec. “I would not say that her armies were put to flight. Rather that they suddenly changed their minds…they seemed to become purposeless…” he shrugged, confused.

  “The motivation and power behind this war is now no more,” the Archmage replied. “I expect that when Arantur and his friends return they will be able to explain what happened.”

  “He will be soon coming out of the south,” stated Sennar suddenly. “I must immediately send a mounted company of legio down to meet ….”

  Archmage Maran held out his hand to interrupt, “It will take them weeks to make their way out of the mountains. I’d advise we wait here a week or so then go down to meet his group. The rest will be beneficial for those who have been badly wounded.” He glanced across at the Legion Bow Commanders, “Riggeltz will need to be rebuilt. Perhaps all those who were not directly, or only lightly involved with the fighting could be sent south to start on the rebuilding of the town? An armed company ought to be sent too…just in case there is trouble.” He turned to Captain Taran, “I think the fyrd can now be released. I am certain they will want to be home in time for the spring planting.”

  Taran nodded, “I will speak to the fyrd leaders and let them know their men can go as soon as they wish.”

  “Good,” the Archmage allowed himself to relax, “Kainne Stormbringer…”r />
  “Aye, SpiritDreamer,” the plainsleader looked up at his name.

  “I have been talking with Captain Taran and we would like to know exactly where these Thakur came out of the mountains,” Maran stated. “Can your people backtrack their route?”

  Kainne straightened proudly, “SpiritDreamer, a plainswarrior can backtrack the flight of an eagle to its nest!”

  “Then you will do it?”

  The plainsleader laughed shortly, “Of course, do you want these Thakur killed?” he added straight-faced.

  Captain Taran chucked and walked forward, “No, the war is over plainsman. However I would have no more of their kind coming onto the plains from such an unknown route. If we can, we will block or guard the route once it is found.”

  “Then we shall leave at first light,” replied Kainne swiftly.

  “My lord Captain Commander Cenn!”

  The leaders looked up at the sudden commotion at the tent door.

  Cenn stood, “I am here, who calls?”

  “My lord,” A young cavalryman darted into the tent, “Captain Commander Urskar’s been found. My lord, he’s alive! And they’re bringing him into the camp now.”

  “Where is he?”

  Archmage Maran wasted no extraneous words with the healers and herbalists who were assisting the Healermages

  “Though there my lord,” one replied, “But go softly…he’s in a bad way.”

  Maran turned, “What’s wrong with him?”

  The herbalist shook his head, “He’s paralysed, and we suspect a broken or injured back my lord. The Healermages have made him comfortable, but until their powers fully come back there is little they can do except dull the pain with herbs and powders.”

  “Where was he found?” asked Cenn.

  “Left behind in the Thakur camp,” explained the young cavalryman. “He was discovered by the first group who went in after the enemy packed up and left.”

  His face grew grim, “He was barely conscious when they found him my lords. I don’t think the Thakur did much to ease his pain when he was made a prisoner.”

  **

  A day into their journey down the tunnel they started finding the bodies.

  Seemingly hastily bundled into narrow alcoves in the rock, the corpses had almost fully decomposed, and lay with their bones spilling out of the rotting rags that all had been wrapped in.

  “Miners,” said the Scout, “I can tell by the remains of the clothing they wore.”

  The Thakurian shook his head wonderingly, “I wonder how they died?”

  “Some crushed,” said Genn immediately studying the bones, “Others were strangled…on this one you can still see the cord that killed him.” He moved across to another body, “This one was killed by a knife or sword wound…you can see by these marks across the ribs.”

  “Come away,” Theaua said unhappily, “This is not a place to linger.”

  “But why?” asked the Scout, “I knew we lost many miners to tunnel collapse. Why murder the rest, for murder it seems to be?”

  Aran glanced across to the other man, “It seems your Warleader very much wanted the existence of this tunnel kept a secret. It looks as though all who worked upon it were killed to keep it so.”

  The Scout bit his lip unhappily as he remembered all the lies his people had been told.

  *

  By common agreement the group did not linger in that place of death, but instead hurried on down the tunnel, their way lit by Hela’s tiny but piercingly bright ball lightning.

  As he walked, Aran stared at the dark haired Scout reflectively. Hours before he had spoken to Kunek about Uhmar’s death. He learnt too that the Thakurian had rejected the Warleader, and that he had almost died for his rejection. He was certain that the way back was closed to the Scout, and that the only option for the Thakurian was to continue travelling with Aran’s group.

  “Walk with me Te-Gormeth,” he said suddenly, drawing up beside the Thakurian.

  The Scout jumped, he was deep in his thoughts and had not expected to be addressed by the Free Provincial Leader.

  “I’ve been told what happened between you and the Warleader,” Aran said softly. “You are a brave man for what you did.”

  Te-Gormeth shrugged unhappily, cradling his healing ribs, “Bravery had very little to do with it. I only wanted to see for myself if Se-Taanata was the true catalyst for the Serat rise.”

  “You had doubts?” Aran was surprised.

  Te-Gormeth looked up, “I am not an unintelligent man. I know enough of the old stories to recognise a true turning of the cycle. Even in the early days of the war I had my doubts.”

  “The Holding of the army was one,” he said, when he realised that Aran was waiting for him to speak, “And the way the dissenters vanished. When the cycle changes it should be to universal acclaim…not to secrecy and black deaths in the night.”

  “So you did nothing?” Aran asked carefully.

  The Thakurian grimaced in pain, “I am but one man, and her rule seemed unopposed by those who were senior to me. So I held my tongue and kept my doubts to myself.” He laughed hollowly, “I did not care to disappear like all the others had, and when the soldiers came for me and told me I was drafted, well then I kept my silence and obeyed their orders.”

  “So what will you do now?” asked Aran quietly.

  “I am your prisoner,” Te-Gormeth replied simply, “I can do nothing.”

  Aran studied the Thakurian, “You ceased being my prisoner when the Warleader was killed.”

  The Scout paused at that, then seeing the others walk on, limped to catch up.

  “I can go home?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

  “If you so wish,” Aran replied, “I am certain you have friends, family who miss you.”

  Te-Gormeth shook his head regretfully, “My only living kin was my brother…then he disappeared. We of the Tracker Caste are loners, even within our Caste we seldom make friends and right up to the time I was drafted I had not found a woman whom I wished to Shackle.”

  “So what will you do now?” Aran repeated his question.

  Te-Gormeth shrugged, “Go home I guess…although there is little for me there. Thakur will be in turmoil, and there will be few who will be requiring the services of a hunter and scout.”

  “You could stay on with us,” said Aran suddenly.

  The Scout’s face grew still, “And what would you do with me?”

  Aran shook his head ruefully, “I have been thinking that if we had proper diplomatic relations with Thakur this whole sorry war may not have even begun.” He glanced at the Scout, “Of the few men of your nation I have met, you alone I trust, and believe to be an honourable man.” He grinned suddenly, “All else I have killed in war!”

  Te-Gormeth fell silent, listening.

  “I will need a man to be my envoy between Thakur and my people,” Aran mused. “A man who has shown himself to be trustworthy, and one who knows how to obey orders, a man who is intelligent and has a mind of his own.”

  Aran paused to stare hard at the Scout, “Will you be my envoy?”

  “My…my…lord…” stammered Te-Gormeth, “You…you do me great honour, but to tell you the truth my people may not accept diplomatic relations with you.” He bit his lip, “Whilst we are in the Thakur cycle our people are inward looking…introspective. We deal with others only rarely and with great reluctance and mistrust. I could agree to be your envoy but I am afraid that little may be achieved.”

  “But I must try…” Aran sighed, a sudden bleak weariness settling over him. “Else this whole sorry saga will repeat itself when the cycle finally turns.”

  “I doubt that it will turn in our lifetime,” mumbled Te-Gormeth, “One cycle usually takes countless generations and it has been only three hundred years since the great Shaming.”

  Aran looked up sudden hope flaring in his eyes, “Do you honestly think we will have that long?”

  The Scout inclined his head.

  “T
hen we do have time for reconciliation,” Aran replied dryly, “For I feel that it will indeed take another three hundred years for trust to grow between our two nations.” His grey eyes suddenly narrowed, “Your people did not invade Nafeking, why not?”

  “I believe we had necessary trade agreements,” replied Te-Gormeth defensively, “And I understand that it would have been difficult to fight a war upon two fronts…”

  “That is true,” Aran agreed. “So I will need an envoy, for I do need eyes and ears within Thakur.”

  “I will not spy for you,” said the Scout frostily.

  “I did not ask you to,” Aran replied just as swiftly, “Just an envoy who will not be asked to be a traitor to his birth people.”

  “Diplomacy only?” questioned Te-Gormeth, his head spinning with the realisation of what he was being offered.

  “Aye,” Aran agreed quietly, “Someone who can move easily between our two governments, someone who will speak for us when an unfamiliar language and mutual mistrust closes all ears.”

  Te-Gormeth inclined his head, finally allowing himself to finally succumb to the charismatic presence of the Free Provincial leader “Then lord, I shall…if you indeed wish it so…”

  Aran nodded, and clasped the other gently on the shoulder in comradeship.

  *

  “That was well done,” said Drayden in a low voice.

  “You heard?”

  “Aye,” the Earthmage smiled wryly, “Although as our friend stated, little may be achieved through diplomacy, still it must be tried.”

  Aran nodded his heart heavy, “For me at least this war is over. I only hope that what we have done today has prevented further bloodshed.”

  “I believe so,” Drayden replied, “The one thing we can be assured is that the link between the army and Se-Taanata existed.”

  Aran looked across at the mage, “I remember you telling me that with the Warleader’s death, those that were Held might also die. Do you think that has come to pass?”