Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy

by Rosemary Fryth

  Warleader Andur stood by his fire in the dark wilderness of the plain, and smiled as he saw Aran step out of the bleak shadows of the shadowed grasslands.

  ‘So you have come home, kinsman,’ he said gently.

  “Aye, lord Andur,” replied Aran, “The war is over now.”

  ‘Good,’ the Warleader replied, ‘For war is a terrible thing.’ He smiled bleakly, ‘Although it seems to me that this last war we fought had a greater price than either of us expected.’

  “We lost many soldiers,” agreed Aran as he sat down next to the Warleader, “It will take many seasons for the Legions to recover from the great wounds they sustained. The Guard too lost many men; it will be the work of years to bring them up to strength again.”

  ‘You have Warriormages now,’ said Andur.

  Aran nodded, “Excluding me, and within the Guard and Legions, we have found fifteen men who possess the Warriormage Ability.”

  ‘Then you will need to train them,’ Andur said quietly. ‘You cannot allow them to remain latent.’ He sighed heavily, ‘That was my great mistake…I did not seek out the latent Warrior and Metalmages, I thought that peace would be eternal.’

  “Nothing is eternal,” replied Aran, “I have learnt all too well that the only certain thing is that there will be change.”

  The Warleader stirred the fire with his stick and briefly blew upon it to sustain the coals

  ‘I should have forced Glaive to seek out the missing magepowers and rebuild Rapier for the future,’ mused Andur, ‘But they advised against it. They told me that there was no need for such mages in the new province. They said it would be dangerous to seek out and attempt to harness the unknown magepowers…’

  He looked up at Aran and smiled ruefully, ‘I think I listened too much to those mages.’

  “As I did in my early days,” Aran agreed, “Glaive soon showed me its true colours. However some mages I believe I can trust,” he added.

  ‘The ones who accompanied you?’ he asked.

  Aran nodded, and then his face hardened, “But Glaive will soon learn that I will not tolerate interference in my handling of the Warriormages. Metalmages I will seek too, but this quest I shall pass on to Master Cody.”

  ‘Aye,’ agreed Andur, ‘One must be one, to know one.’

  The Warleader stood and brushed the ash from his hands, ‘I must go now,’ he said quietly.

  “Forever?” asked Aran as he sensed the impression of infinite weariness coming from his kinsman.

  Andur nodded, ‘Sleep calls to me, for a long time I have been denied it. However now I must Go On.’

  “To another life?” asked Aran, saddened that he would no longer have these strange talks with his ancient kinsman.

  The Warleader shook his head, ‘I am very tired Arantur…long have I yearned for sleep, now it calls, and I at last have leave to go.’

  “Then this is goodbye?” Aran stood, at a loss for what to say or do.

  ‘Aye,’ Andur walked over to the young king and briefly hugged him, ‘Rule well my kinsman…’

  So Aran stepped back, and watched the Warleader lean down and ever so carefully toss a handful of the dead grey soil onto the bright coals of the fire. For a moment the coals flared, highlighting for an instant of time the tears streaming down the shadowed weariness of Andur’s face. Then with the last fading of the fire, absolute blackness enveloped the dark plain, and with the coming of the darkness, the shade of Andur passed forever from that in-between place.

  *

  For ten days the army remained at the camp, waiting whilst the worst of the wounded healed enough to take saddle and ride. Although it was generally a time of rest, those who had only been lightly touched by the war voluntarily went out with spades to try and cleanse the plain of its wounds, and bury the still mouldering dead.

  Healermage Genn, who of the Healers, was still able to work the magepower; went among those the herbalists and healers could not mend. Working his will he gave life where life was fading; and to others, use of limbs that had sustained telling injuries. However for Legion Commander Terdec he could do little.

  “It’s been too long with naught done,” he said to Aran later. “It’s beyond my skill now to give the man back the use of his legs. Although I’ve Healed the bones of the spine where it broke low, the nerves at the point of the break are now quite dead. Below the break he has no feeling…I am sorry Aran but the man will never walk again.”

  “What does Terdec want you to do?” asked Aran quietly.

  “Lead him into the final darkness,” Genn replied miserably. “Liege,” he cried unhappily, “My role is to give life…not take it away.”

  “I am no Healermage,” said Aran quietly, “But with the power of the Sword I was able to Heal myself of those burns. Perhaps I can do something?” he said holding out his hands as proof.

  Genn shook his head, “What you did I don’t believe ever could be repeated. The time, the place, what happened there was special…”

  Then his voice trailed away and he frowned. Suddenly he sprang up with a shout, “Of course…why didn’t I think of that!”

  Aran smiled, caught by Genn’s infectious laugh, “What?”

  “The node, the forest node…” Genn was grinning from ear to ear, “I’m certain that I’m now strong enough to properly access the node and channel its energies into the dead nerves…”

  He walked distractedly about the tent, “I’m not absolutely certain he can be Healed this way, but it’s our best shot …”

  “Better than the final darkness?” said Aran quietly.

  Genn looked up and grinned happily, “Aye liege, much better than that.”

  “So what do you need to do?” Aran asked.

  “Take Terdec there,” was Genn’s immediate reply, as he turned his mind to the logistics of getting a paralysed man into the deep forest. “I will need a litter, horses, and men to assist. Mages also to take him beyond to the node, for I think in the light of what happened at Thakur, that the knowledge of that place should be kept only to Glaive and Glade.”

  Aran nodded, “Do what you need to do Genn…I will lend whatever aid is necessary.”

  He glanced across to the other man, “Talk to the Sages for they have not yet returned to Glade.”

  *

  When hearing of the plan, ten men of Terdec’s Legion immediately volunteered to take their commander into the deep forest for healing. Accompanied by Genn, some of the Healermages from Glaive and the Sages, the group were even now gathered by the gate of the enclosure preparing to leave.

  “Do not wait for us liege,” said Genn to Aran. “This business will take several weeks, for we must travel slowly, and also if the Healing is successful, then Terdec will need time in Glade to recover, and learn to walk again.”

  “Very well,” Aran glanced about him at the drilling soldiers and the neat and orderly camp, “It soon will be time for us to return home. You think the rest of the wounded are now fit enough to travel?”

  Genn nodded immediately, “Of course…I would not put them in a battle, but they are certainly strong enough for the ride.”

  Aran smiled, “It will be good to go home. I will give the commanders orders to break camp.”

  “I will not be returning with you, Aran,” said a sudden voice.

  Aran looked up to see Bini leading over a white mare laden with his saddlery and packs.

  “You leave with the Sages?” Aran asked quietly.

  “I do,” the plainsman replied, “I must…” he glanced back to where Sage Beech was waiting with her kin.

  “I thought you would,” said Aran simply, and then he grinned, “So you are to be a father!”

  Bini laughed and his golden eyes shone, “Aye…still I cannot believe it so.”

  Aran grinned wryly, “Just as you would not believe it was the Entity that took Beech’s form at the node…”

  Bini laughed, “Aran, please do not remind me of my stupidity. For a while there I was not myself.” He
grinned ruefully, “For a time I even believed that Beech had never even been human…especially after seeing the Entity take her form at the node.”

  Aran grinned, “Do not be so hard on yourself, Bini. We all had dark thoughts after coming out of that place.” He sighed in wonderment, “This has been a remarkably strange season, Bini. All the women I know seem to be pregnant…”

  “Perhaps it is something in the water,” replied Bini with a laugh. “Or perhaps the Goddess is trying to repopulate the land after so many were lost in the war.”

  “Something like that,” laughed Aran then his face stilled. “I will miss you plainsman” he said simply. “You will of course visit?” he asked.

  Bini smiled and nodded, “When the child is born and grown enough, we will both come to the Keep.”

  He paused, and stared out of the gate to the plains beyond, “By then I think I will have had enough of forests and will want to see the horizon and the plains again.”

  Aran nodded understanding. “I yearn for the sea, and the endless winds that blow about the Keep,” he admitted quietly, “I left my soul back there Bini…”

  “Then I am lucky, Aran” Bini said, “For my soul is here!” and he pointed to Sage Beech.

  Aran went to the young plainswarrior and hugged him hard, “I will miss you Bini…keep yourself well.”

  Bini smiled, and returned the hug, “Of course…but I shall be back and visiting before you will even have had a chance to miss me.” Then Bini stepped away and his face grew suddenly serious, “Riothamus…may your horse never stumble, may the skies favour your journey, may the grass be forever bountiful under your feet.”

  Aran smiled at hearing those words and his hand lifted in silent farewell.

  *

  The next day the army broke camp, and headed east towards their hometowns and garrisons. Aran, Alissa, and the others from the journey rode on Legion remounts, as their own horses were still grazing in southern Thakur. Drayden had left a few days before. Excusing himself from the ride, he intended to fly south-west to monitor the removal of the Thakur forces from the province, and then overfly the range to perhaps see if he could locate their missing horses. The army rode slowly but steadily, the commanders mindful of those who were still recovering from wounds and injuries. There had been so great a loss of life from this war, that no one was prepared to lose any more lives for the sake of a little more speed or arriving home a day or two earlier. At Eldenton the army divided, with the Haulgard Legions taking the shorter, northern roads to their home town, leaving the remainder of the army to follow the central Andurian roads to Havendale, and then onto the great walled coastal cities. At Havendale the majority of the mages rode south towards Andromach, and to the trading ships that would take them all back to Glaive. The Archmage and the mages that had journeyed into Thakur elected instead to accompany Aran to the Keep, and see him established there and to ease him into the running of the province. Aran was still not certain whether he approved their decision, but in the feeble warmth of the mid-winter sunshine, decided to be diplomatic and allow their visit. Meanwhile both he and Darven still had business in Leigh, so the Guard, relaxed by the easy ride, happily followed their commanders east.

  Finally, after a fortnight of easy travel in the mid-winter sunshine, the army reached Leigh.

  “You will go on now?” Aran asked Sennar.

  “Aye,” the Legion Commander looked back along the columns of soldiers bound for Helmsgard, and nodded. “It’s been a long enough war, and the men deserve some time with their families. Come spring we’ll be trying to get the Legions back up to full strength. For a while now we’ve had a long list of young men waiting to join up, but we’ve never had the space to take them on.”

  His eyes grew tired, “Since we’ve lost Tennar and Shelden, and now with Druec pretty well permanently out of action we’re going to have to find new commanders for some of the Legions…” He sighed, “There’s good men coming up through the ranks but none with their experience.”

  “I doubt there will be soon another war,” replied Aran. “I believe we’ll have a substantial breathing space before we need think about the Thakur again.”

  Sennar nodded, “I hope so…we’ll all need to do some pretty intensive training if we’re to have any hope of matching that heavy cavalry of theirs.”

  “I agree,” replied Aran then he paused, “Once you reach Helmsgard I want you to let the mayor and town council know that I won’t be stopping by.” He shook his head wryly as he thought of the months of work ahead of him, “I need to get back to the Keep and take up the responsibilities of government,” he replied. “Visiting the southern cities will have to wait until another time.”

  Sennar laughed, “He won’t be happy but I’ll talk him round.”

  “I’ll be asking for the latent Warriormages once we’ve returned to Andur’s Keep,” added Aran, “Those men need proper training and the only ones who can do it are either Darven or myself.”

  Sennar smiled, “As soon as I receive word, I’ll send them on…you’ll be alerting the other commanders?”

  “Aye, most I’ve already spoken to,” Aran replied.

  Sennar looked up and saw the distant steeply sloping roofs of Leigh, and looking back, saw the waiting ranks of the Legions bound for Helmsgard and Sentinal. Turning his horse about, he signalled to the ranks of cavalry and infantry arranged behind to ride on.

  “Then this is where we part,” he said, turning back to where Aran and the others were waiting.

  “Ride a safe road, Commander;” Aran replied cheerfully, “We won’t be long behind.”

  *

  Even before the Guard, the remaining mages, and their attendant supply wagons were within a bow shot of Leigh, the townsfolk were seen streaming out of the houses and streets in welcome. Surrounding Aran and the Guard, everyone was keen to hear tidings of the war. Even though the fyrd from Leigh was already home and preparing the winter fields for the spring planting, all the citizens wanted to do was hear of the great battles, and the quest into Thakur. Although Aran was silent and reluctant to speak, the Guard gladly gave the people snatches of news and stories. The presence of the dark haired Thakurian Scout was pondered and puzzled over by many, but most dismissed him as an odd kind of booty of war.

  When at last the crowds parted enough for the riders to finally reach the town; Aran, the Archmage, and the others were shown accommodation at the finest of Leigh’s inns, with the Guard lodged only a little way down the road in a large hostel.

  Aran drew Alissa and Darven aside as stable hands led their horses away for feed and stabling.

  “We’re going straight on to see Kiaia,” Darven explained, “We’re going to walk as we’ve been in the saddle for weeks and we need to stretch our legs.”

  “Then I shall come too,” Alissa replied.

  “It is a fair walk,” Aran said, “For a pregnant woman.”

  Alissa gave him a strange disbelieving look, “I’ve walked the length of Thakur, Aran. A five minute stroll through Leigh is not going to disable me.”

  Aran laughed, and nodded, immediately contrite, “I guess I’m being overly protective of you my love,” he apologised ruefully. “All the same, tell us if you tire and we will stop to let you rest.”

  It was Alissa’s turn to laugh, “If I wished to I could race you there and back without losing my wind. Honestly Aran, I am not that far advanced into my pregnancy.”

  *

  Fifteen minutes later Aran stopped in front of his foster parent’s home and stared in some consternation at the closed door, and shuttered windows. The house spoke of weeks of neglect with winter cracked timbers, weeds in the window boxes, and on the ground shards of shingles torn loose from the roof after one of the winter storms that had blown through Leigh three weeks before.

  “I don’t understand it,” Aran said worrying, “I’ve never known either of them to neglect their home.”

  “Perhaps this is not their house,” Darven replied mat
ter-of-factly, “Remember you did give them money to set themselves up in a new one.”

  Aran’s face brightened, “Indeed I did, and I had forgotten…I wonder where they are living now?”

  “Ask one of the neighbours,” Alissa said, looking around, “If one is to be found?”

  Finally, Darven did find one, and quickly discovered that Aran’s foster parents had bought a house adjacent to the town green which was back the way they had come.

  “A nice area,” commented Aran as soon as he heard, “Although it does tend to get overly crowded during the time of the annual fair.”

  “Better than this,” was Alissa’s only comment gazing about at the peeling houses and the general sense of neglect evident in the street around them.

  “They could never afford to move into a better area,” Aran replied, “For carting never paid well. However for a man without a trade it was better than nothing.”

  Aran paused as if thinking back over old memories, “I guess that’s why I was encouraged to take up smithing with Master Cody.”

  “Well they’ve fallen on their feet now,” Darven said grinning, “Now can we go and fetch Kiaia…”

  *

  The houses fronting the town green were all distinguished by the fact that they had a small garden at the front of the house as well as a yard, stables and a small vegetable patch at the back. In the mid-winter, the gardens stood bare and fallow, waiting for spring buds to appear on the shrubs and bulbs to push through after their winter dormancy, but in one a small figure was seen bent over as she earnestly prepared the ground for the latter planting of spring flowers.

  “You always did love your flowers,” said Aran clearly, after the group had walked up to the two storied, red and grey timbered house.

  The older woman turned and smiled, “Arantur…we thought you’d be along today.”

  Then she straightened and her back audibly cracked, “I know it’s still too early to be planting for spring, but after all the cold and wet we’ve had, I just couldn’t keep indoors another moment.”

  She gazed at the tall, sun-bronzed figure of her foster son, and stepping out of the garden, quickly embraced him. “I am glad you are back safe,” she said simply, “We have heard rumours about the war. Was it as bad as they said?”