by Luke Scull
The Eternal Tree, it had been called. No one knew what significance it held to their Magelord, but the tree itself was a thing of beauty, its golden leaves untouched by the turning of the seasons. The Eternal Tree had occupied the centre of the park for as long as any in the city could recall.
It was a sight to behold. A reminder of the wonders the world once held before the fall of the gods.
He remembered how he would sit beneath its gilded canopy and pray for his mother after she got sick. The malignance in her chest had killed her eventually, but he had found peace in the comforting embrace of the great tree’s shadow.
Barandas closed his eyes. He remembered sensing something was amiss, glancing up to see the branches overhead rustle in a way that had struck him as strange. On an instinct that to this day he had never fully understood, he had rushed past the Magelord’s Augmentors and knocked the invisible assassin to the ground before he had buried his dagger in Salazar’s back. Their cover blown, the other assassins had dropped down from where they had been hiding in the boughs of the great tree. For those few seconds when everything was pure chaos Barandas had fought off the unseen assailants, taking wound after wound before the knife had plunged into his heart.
I was on my knees, coughing up blood. Salazar uttered a word and suddenly the assassins were there for all to see, their cloak of invisibility stripped from them. The Augmentors waded in, and everything from that point on was a blur.
The Festival of the Red Sun attempt on Salazar’s life had ultimately proved the catalyst for the Culling. A cabal of Dorminia’s most powerful wizards were found guilty of hiring assassins from foreign lands and plotting to murder the Magelord. Something seemed to break in Salazar that day, for later that year he ordered the Eternal Tree burned to the ground and every mage in the Grey City and its dependent territories killed without mercy.
As for Barandas, he had awakened with a new heart of enchanted iron — and the most rapid promotion from Watchman to Augmentor in the city’s history. He sometimes wondered if Salazar had intended the irony. A heart of iron, to bear the burden of duty and not burst with the weight of what must be done.
He reached the front of the manor house. A dog barked at him and then ran off around the back of the estate. He placed a hand on the pommel of his sword and cleared his throat. ‘By order of Lord Salazar, Magelord of Dorminia and rightful sovereign of Malbrec, open this door.’
He waited for a minute or two. Eventually the door opened to reveal a sour-faced old man in a deerskin jacket clutching a pipe in one hand. ‘I already told that armoured juggernaut of yours,’ he said irritably. ‘There’s no one here but me. I’m far too old to be fighting in your damned war.’
There was a cough from somewhere inside, which was quickly cut off as whoever made the noise desperately tried to stifle it. ‘I think I’ll see for myself,’ said Barandas. He pushed past into the entrance hall and through into a plush sitting room.
‘This… this is scandalous,’ the man protested, giving his pipe a furious tug. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘That’s of no consequence,’ Barandas replied. He looked around at the leather armchairs and the fine rosewood cabinets. ‘You’ve done well for yourself.’
The old man frowned. ‘The mining business has been good to me. I ship a lot of stone to the city. I always pay my taxes. Every copper,’ he added.
‘Who’s that?’ Barandas pointed at a canvas hanging over the fireplace. It depicted a slightly younger version of the scowling merchant. Next to him was a woman of similar age with an equine face. Between them, a teenage boy wore the expression of the terminally bored.
‘That’s my wife, Mildra. She’s been dead these past six winters.’
‘I meant the boy.’
There was sudden fear on the face of the old merchant. ‘Harald? He’s not here. I sent him to Westrock-’
There was another cough. It came from upstairs.
‘If I find you are lying to me,’ Barandas said carefully, ‘I will have you thrown in chains, your estate seized, and your son placed in the very front ranks when hostilities with Thelassa commence.’
The merchant’s face sank and he inclined his head slightly. ‘Harald is unwell. He contracted an illness while we were in Dorminia on business. I haven’t found a physician who has been able to help. He’s coughing up his lungs.’
Barandas frowned. This wasn’t the first he had heard of this sickness. If things got much worse Dorminia would soon have an epidemic on its hands. Still, citing exemption from the draft because of some mystery illness was a claim he heard all too often recently.
‘Send your son down to my man Garmond. He will have a physician examine him. If it is indeed as you say, Harald will be excused.’
The old merchant started to protest. Barandas was in no mood to hear it. He spun on his heels and marched out of the manor, pulling the door shut behind him.
‘How many?’
Lieutenant Toram squinted down at the parchment in his hands. ‘Four hundred and sixteen.’
Barandas sighed in frustration. The sun was sinking into the horizon and he still had an hour’s ride back to Dorminia. His sweep of the hilltop residences had proved fruitless. As it turned out, many of the town’s lords and wealthier merchants had anticipated there would be a draft shortly after the declaration of war and sent their sons away. It was a common story throughout Dorminia’s territory.
The whorehouses and taverns of the Unclaimed Lands will doubtless enjoy a roaring trade for a while, he thought sourly. This entire exercise had been a disappointment. Between Westrock, Ashfall and now Malbrec, they had raised barely half the numbers he had anticipated.
He turned to Symon, his squire. ‘Ready my horse,’ he said. ‘I will return to the city shortly.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the lad replied, and scurried off to carry out his orders.
Toram scratched at his bristly grey moustache. ‘We did the best we could, my lord. If you like, we could do one more round. I’m certain there are malingerers and cowards dodging our recruiters.’
‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘Wait until the morning. If you see anyone trying to sneak out of town-’
‘Sir?’
He turned to see who had interrupted him. It was the lad whose mother had argued against his drafting earlier that day. ‘Do you bring news of your brother?’
The boy looked glum. ‘The physician says he will survive… but he will need months of recovery before he is fit to return to work. Or go to war.’
Barandas nodded. ‘Tell your mother she will be paid the sum of three gold spires as compensation for the unfortunate incident. That should help keep food on the table while he convalesces.’
‘What about me, my lord?’
‘You? You’re perfectly fit and healthy, are you not? Lieutenant Toram will take a few details and then he will see you at noon tomorrow outside the gates. Do not be late.’
‘I’m not fighting your stupid war!’ the boy cried. He backed away a few steps and then turned and ran.
‘You want me to send someone after him?’ Toram asked.
Barandas noticed Thurbal watching him. He had a smug look on his face. ‘No,’ he replied. His grip tightened on his sword. ‘I’ll fetch him. He needs to learn some respect.’ He paused for a moment. ‘You can begin another round of inquiries immediately. Use whatever methods you deem necessary.’
‘Yes, my lord.’ The lieutenant saluted and left to organize his men.
Barandas set off in the direction the boy had fled, intending to give him a good dressing down, when he almost collided with a horse travelling in the opposite direction. The merchant astride the beast immediately hopped down and offered up his profuse apologies.
‘I am terribly sorry, my lord,’ he gushed, wiping nervously at his forehead. ‘I was in a rush. I have been riding for the best part of a day and night.’
‘Indeed.’ Barandas felt his head beginning to ache. This interruption had probably cost him the opportunity to c
hase down the boy. Perhaps that was for the best, all things considered. ‘Would you care to elaborate on why you are in such a hurry?’
The merchant nodded, eager to make amends for his error. ‘It’s Farrowgate, my lord. The village has been saved! Some brave Highlanders and their companions slew the dreadful abomination that had been preying on its residents. Of course,’ he added, with a conspiratorial grin, ‘where there is disaster there is opportunity. The village is in desperate need of supplies. The early bird gets the worm, hmm?’
Farrowgate. Barandas had forgotten about the tiny settlement on the outskirts of the territory. He had intended to send a small detachment of Watchmen to investigate the reports of monstrous activity, but he had been so busy with war preparations the last couple of weeks that it had slipped his mind completely. ‘You mentioned Highlanders?’
‘Indeed. Two of them. Grim fellows. They looked in pretty rough shape, what with their injuries and all, but I tell you: I wouldn’t like to be the man who got on the wrong side of them.’
Barandas stared. Highlanders… the Wailing Rift!
The loss of the Rift meant the creation of new Augmentors was now entirely dependent upon the successful return of the ships sent to the Swell. If he could do a single thing right this day, it would be to enact justice on the bastards who collapsed the mine.
‘Thurbal,’ he said, moving to stand before his scowling deputy. He could hear that strange ticking sound again, the same noise he had heard during the temple massacre. ‘The scoundrels who sabotaged the Rift have been spotted in Farrowgate. Retrieve your scimitar and gather Garmond and a score of Watchmen.’
The grey-haired Augmentor rose to his feet immediately. His scowl was gone, replaced by the happy grin of a child who has just been handed an unexpected gift. ‘Garmond’s already here.’
Barandas turned away from the deputy to see the giant Augmentor approaching. He was dragging something along the ground.
It was a body of a young man. The corpse was coated in dirt and the head was a bloody mess, but the boy’s identity was unmistakable.
‘Caught him trying to flee town,’ Garmond said. ‘He won’t be going anywhere now.’
Barandas stared at the broken skull of the quarryman and then up at Garmond. He’s a monster. But what can I do? Discipline him? The boy was a deserter. He turned to Lieutenant Toram.
‘The gold you were to present to this lad’s mother? Double it. Tell her… tell her there’s been a terrible accident. He slipped and fell into the quarry.’
‘Aye, my lord.’
Barandas closed his eyes. It had been a long and difficult day. He longed to return to his comfortable estate in the Noble Quarter and take Lena in his arms. Before he could do that, however, he needed to check in on Marshal Halendorf and review how recruitment elsewhere was faring.
When duty beckoned, a man had no choice but to answer its call. Duty was what defined him; it gave him purpose in a world of chaos and uncertainty.
A man who neglected his duty was no man at all.
Bonds of Blood
Brodar Kayne shifted on the old mattress and looked out of the window beside him. The sun was out, casting its warmth down on the small farming settlement. Villagers went about their daily routines in a perfunctory manner, still coming to terms with the disaster that had befallen the community. Only the timely arrival of their small group had saved Farrowgate from utter destruction.
He stared up at the sun until tears stung his eyes. The physician, Gaius, had warned him to keep away from bright light as a precaution, but he couldn’t resist. He had been without his sight for the best part of three days. There was a moment of absolute terror when he thought he might never see again, and that had unmanned him in a way he hadn’t thought possible. To his great relief, his vision had returned shortly after.
The infection in his wound had cleared and his flesh was well on the way to knitting itself back together. As an unexpected bonus, the prolonged rest had eased the aches and pains that had been troubling him for months. All things considered, he was feeling better than he had in years.
There was a knock at the door. He sat up on the bed and then pushed himself to his feet. ‘That you, lass?’ he said.
Sasha entered the room, looking annoyed. She frowned at him with those big dark eyes of hers. ‘You should be in bed.’
He made a face. ‘It’s been three weeks. I reckon that’s about long enough.’ He ran a rough hand over his beard and grimaced. How long had it been since he last shaved? Too bloody long. ‘Don’t suppose you got something with an edge on you, lass? I ain’t going to risk nicking myself with Magebane over yonder.’
Sasha sighed. On those rare occasions when she wasn’t scowling or looking as though she was about to hit someone, she was a fine-looking girl. With him confined to bed, the fractious relationship between her and Jerek had apparently deteriorated. He hoped Isaac was doing his best to keep them apart.
‘Men,’ she said. ‘Little more than apes, beating your chests to show the world how big and strong you are. I’d have thought a man your age would know better.’ She shook her head and pointed at him accusingly. ‘You’re worse, if anything.’
He tried to keep the smile from his face as she glowered at him. ‘Got to keep active,’ he responded. ‘There’s a saying in the High Fangs. “A man who hangs up his sword is a man with one foot in the grave.” I’ve still got some life in me yet.’
Sasha placed her hands on her hips. ‘You’ll have a lot more if you don’t insist on acting like an old fool.’
He stared at her for a time, said nothing. You could have been back in Dorminia by now. You didn’t need to remain here with us. Isaac would have gone with you, kept an eye out on the road.
As if reading his thoughts, her scowl grew even fiercer. And it ain’t like you’re some helpless damsel in distress yourself.
He cleared his throat. ‘Gaius says you came to check on me while I was recovering. You didn’t need to stick around. I appreciate it, I guess is what I’m trying to say.’
Sasha looked about as uncomfortable as he felt, which was to say very. ‘Well, I owed you that much. You’ve been true to your word. Of course,’ she added, ‘after what happened at the Rift, you won’t want to return to the city any time soon.’
‘Aye. You have that right.’
A travelling merchant had brought word of recent events to the village. Shadowport had been destroyed, the entire city buried beneath the waves. Now Dorminia was preparing to repel an invasion from Thelassa. He had hardly been able to believe it when Isaac had brought him the news.
Jerek had been furious. ‘Fucking priceless,’ he had rasped. ‘So what, now we’re gonna stroll into an ant’s nest of the red-cloaked cocksuckers while they’re getting ready to go to war? Might as well slit our throats now.’
The fact was, setting foot any nearer the city than they already were would be asking for trouble. They were lucky the soldiers that had come to investigate the disturbance at the mine had not pursued them as far as Farrowgate; it was even more fortunate that with conscription happening all over this part of the Trine, the village had so far avoided a visit from the Crimson Watch.
We’d stick out like a sore thumb, he thought. Even if the disaster at the Wailing Rift couldn’t be pinned on them, there was that incident with the two Watchmen and the Shard stripling. Someone was bound to have witnessed their bloody encounter.
Sasha was still watching him. ‘Since we can’t go west,’ he said carefully, ‘I reckon me and the Wolf will head east towards the Unclaimed Lands.’
‘You don’t have a copper to your name.’
He gestured at the faintly glowing dagger on the table next to the bed.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘That isn’t yours to sell.’
‘I had an agreement with your gaffer. Thirty gold spires for accompanying you safely to the Rift. That, or the weapon there.’
Sasha sighed. ‘Look, I’ll get your gold. Give me Magebane and I promise that
I’ll have it delivered to you. You have my word.’
The old Highlander scratched his beard. It didn’t seem right, pawning something as precious as that dagger. He reckoned he could trust the girl, but to say Jerek might take a different view would be like wondering if a Highland cat wouldn’t mind a poke in the eye.
‘Where is the Wolf?’ he asked.
‘Hunting. I’ve barely seen him for days, which suits me just fine.’
‘He ain’t the man you think he is, lass.’
Sasha’s lip curled. ‘You might have tried convincing me of that before he almost took my head off and then repeatedly threatened to kill me. Three times in the last week, in fact — and as I said, I’ve barely seen him.’
‘In fairness,’ the Highlander ventured, ‘he was provoked. You did stick a quarrel in his arm. The Wolf’s got a temper on him and I’ll be the first to admit it.’
‘A temper? He’s a black-hearted bastard! I know all about men like him.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You’re different to him. I don’t know what kind of bond you two have, but the best thing you can do is to cut him loose. He’ll bring you down eventually.’
Kayne rubbed at his forehead. He didn’t want to have this conversation. ‘Like I said, he ain’t the man you think he is.’
‘Fine,’ Sasha huffed. ‘Be stubborn, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m going to find Isaac. It’s time we made plans to leave this damned village.’
He watched her storm out. The girl seemed awfully tense, like a bowstring about ready to snap. She’d been that way ever since Vicard’s death. Must have been closer to the alchemist than I thought.
With a satisfied groan he reached down and touched his toes. Then he rolled his shoulders and flexed his back, forcing his muscles into their old routine of familiarity. Age could rob a warrior of many things, but as long as the body and the mind remembered, everything else was trivial. You just had to fight through the pain.