The Magelands Epic: Soulwitch Rises (Book 7)

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘Is that better?’ said Thorn from where she was sitting.

  He opened his eyes and wiped his mouth, relief and wholeness surging through him. ‘Yeah,’ he said, his mind full of images of what he had seen. ‘Thanks.’

  A junior officer approached and placed a towel down onto the pile of sick as Keir stood and lit a cigarette.

  ‘That was quick,’ said Captain Greenhold. ‘Did you speak to the commander of the marines?’

  Keir shook his head.

  ‘But we shall need to coordinate the attack.’

  ‘I know,’ said Keir, glaring at him. ‘I didn’t mean to break off the vision so early, it’s just that…’ His voice drifted off and he looked away.

  ‘What?’ said Colonel Falstead.

  ‘Heads,’ he muttered.

  Thorn raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I think the savages might have butchered the whole town.’

  Thorn got up from her seat and walked to a stand where her cavalry armour had been arranged.

  ‘We’re doing the right thing,’ she said, ‘and this only confirms it. Those beasts must die today.’

  ‘They shall, my lady,’ said Captain Greenhold. ‘On the plains of the Holdings, it sometimes happens that plagues of feral dogs descend upon a settlement. Hungry and savage, they gather in packs, killing livestock and occasionally even a peasant or two labouring in the fields. When this occurs, there is no choice other than to exterminate the wild animals without mercy, and today we shall act no differently. But first,’ he said, turning to Keir, ‘we must communicate our strategy to the advancing marines, otherwise the Sons of Sanang may evade the trap we are about to spring.’

  Keir ignored the captain, and continued to smoke his cigarette.

  ‘Did you see any Sanang?’ said Colonel Falstead.

  ‘A few,’ he said. ‘They were armed, but not organised. There are no outer defences as far as I could see; no blockades or sentry posts, but the streets are strewn with debris. And bodies.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ said Captain Holdsmith. ‘Why would they not set up defences? Even if they haven’t already seen the marines, they must realise that the empire would attempt to retake the town at some point.’

  ‘The empire isn’t retaking the town,’ said Keir. ‘We are.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the captain said, ‘but that shouldn’t make a difference as far as the Sanang are concerned.’

  ‘By now,’ said Thorn, ‘they must be close to bleeding Anamindhari dry. Like locusts, they will move on to another target once they have exhausted the town’s resources. They will flee if attacked.’

  The officers glanced at each other.

  ‘But surely, my lady,’ said Captain Greenhold, ‘the Sanang code of honour will oblige many to fight for the town?’

  Keir snorted. ‘You’re forgetting she’s Sanang. If anyone knows how savages think, it’s her.’

  He closed his mouth as the tent quietened.

  Captain Greenhold’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. ‘Are you calling the soulwitch a savage, boy?’

  Keir resisted the urge to punch the captain again, but his fists clenched on instinct. For a moment he stood in an embarrassed silence, as the gazes of Thorn and the officers fell upon him like the blinding rays of the sun.

  ‘Barnaby, please,’ said Thorn, ‘don’t be silly. Keir’s perfectly correct. My people, you must remember, have recently undergone a radical change. The Sons are savages, wild dogs, locusts, and all the other things we have called them. But they are Sanang’s past; the Matriarch is its future. Destroying the Sons would be a knife in the throat of the old ways; my people would rejoice at the news.’

  Keir smiled at Captain Greenhold as the officer moved his hand away from his sword. ‘I think I’ll send that message to the marines now,’ he said, crushing the cigarette butt beneath his heel.

  An hour later, Keir and Thorn watched from horseback as their squadrons of cavalry hid themselves throughout the thick olive groves that flanked the sides of the valley leading to Anamindhari. Aside from a few personal guards who were mounted behind them out of earshot, the two mages were alone on the rough hillside. They had a perfect view of the southern edges of the town, and could see the line of the larger river where it met the other, smaller tributary. Grey clouds were scudding across the sky from the west, and Keir hoped it would stay dry. He had ensured the guards behind them had plenty of kindling, having learnt from his mistakes when they had attacked the supply caravan, but a heavy downpour could hamper his plans.

  He glanced at the soulwitch sitting next to him on her white stallion. Her face was pointed in the direction of the town; her eyes on the settlement. Her hair was tied back, but strands were blowing in the cold breeze that was sweeping across the flank of the ridge. He saw her every day, but still his eyes took in every detail. He longed for her, but refused to make the first move; not while he was unsure of her response. If only he could see into her mind, he thought, cursing his sister once again. He looked away as he imagined Thorn’s response to any advance of his; of how she would say that he was too young for her; or that she respected him as a friend, but nothing more; or worse, that she looked upon him as a little brother.

  No, his only option was to remain cool and detached, and wait for her to show any signs of her feelings towards him; for it would be better that nothing happened between them, rather than he tried and was rejected. At night, his dreams were full of her, but she was always kissing someone else in them, especially that arsehole Barnaby Greenhold, while Keir stuttered and stammered whenever he tried to speak. Perhaps if his dreams had been happier he would feel more confident about approaching her, but instead each night acted as a further hindrance, reinforcing his insecurities.

  ‘Do you think I’m a savage?’ she said, breaking into his thoughts.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The words you spoke in the command tent,’ she said, her eyes on him, ‘you said that I would understand the mind of a savage because I am one.’

  ‘I misspoke. You’re many things, but not a savage.’

  She smiled. ‘After today you may wish to revise that opinion.’

  ‘I don’t care if you slaughter the Sons of Sanang; they deserve it.’

  ‘They do. So, what other things am I?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not falling for that. If you want flattery, you should ask Barnaby.’

  ‘You’re wrong if you think I’m hunting for compliments. I understand what people think of me.’

  ‘Then why did you ask?’

  ‘I wanted to see what you’d say.’

  ‘Fine.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re going to accept that explanation, are you?’

  ‘I think I get it. On my parents’ estate, I had a lot of girls chasing me, but I was able to read their thoughts. You? I guess you had a lot of boys chasing you back in Sanang.’

  ‘Not just boys.’

  ‘But you couldn’t read their minds, so you had to learn from their words; their behaviour. When you said before that Karalyn’s block on your mind had balanced us, it wasn’t true, though you wouldn’t have known it. You have the advantage,’ he said, ‘because unlike you, I never had to learn the slow way, I could just dip into people’s minds whenever I wanted to. You’re way ahead of me.’

  ‘How old are you, Keir?’

  He cringed. ‘I’m sure my sister’s already told you.’

  ‘No one has, and I’ve never asked until now.’

  ‘How old are you?’ he said.

  ‘Eighteen.’

  He nodded, his heart sinking. ‘I’m seventeen.’

  ‘You look older.’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘You mean I should have lied?’

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ Her eyes turned back to the view of the town in the distance. ‘That’s been twenty minutes. Could you take another look?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, feeling relieved that, for better or worse, his age was known to her. He steeled himse
lf for a return to Anamindhari. The last time he had visioned there, the marines were beginning the assault, dividing into their squad units to overwhelm the outskirts of the town. The model for the marines’ tactics had been stolen from the Army of Pyre, he had learned, with command devolved down to the squad level, where each unit was able to adapt and use their initiative as the situation demanded. Their equipment differed, with the marines employing larger shields, and short swords instead of maces, but both forces carried almost identical crossbows and were outfitted in steel armour.

  As Keir’s vision sped over the olive groves and reached Anamindhari, he began to see signs of conflict. The marines were occupying large parts of the northern and western areas of town, but resistance was flaring up along several main routes. Sanang with an assortment of weapons were forming in groups and defending junctions and plazas, but the majority were beginning to flow south to escape the attack, just as Thorn had predicted.

  Keir kept his vision aloft, not wishing to gaze upon the detail of the individual battles, or to see the piles of rotting heads again. He moved south, tracking the fleeing Sanang warriors as they headed for the bridges that linked the opposite bank of the river. In the southern districts of the town, word had reached the occupiers that an attack was underway, and wagons were being heaped with treasure stripped from Stretton Sands and Anamindhari. They were moving fast, he thought, too fast. At the rate the marines were advancing, the majority of the Sons would have fled the town before the attack had reached the bridges, leaving many more than planned to face the cavalry.

  He glanced down, searching for a lamp or campfire; anything alight. There was nothing; the hearths cold and the bonfires long extinguished. He dived down into the streets of the southern districts, trying to ignore the corpses swaying from the lampposts. He caught a glimpse of a warrior smoking, and narrowed in, stretching his powers to their limits. He reached the tip of the man’s weedstick, and sent the small fire within racing back along its length towards the warrior’s face. The man spluttered and dropped the burning weedstick, and Keir formed what was left into a tiny ball of flame and fired it at a wagon parked close by. Keir felt a wave of dizziness approach, starting in his feet then rising up his legs, as he concentrated on the flame. It landed on a wooden crate and he pushed what was left of his strength into it, straining all he had. The top of the wagon erupted in flames, and Keir toppled off Monty, his shoulder striking the dry ground.

  He awoke laughing, a surge of health and well-being filling him. He opened his eyes, and saw Thorn crouching on the rocky earth beside him.

  ‘That was amazing,’ he said. ‘Did you see?’ He turned to gaze at the town, and saw a pillar of black smoke ascending from the southern districts. ‘Ha!’

  She followed where he was looking and smiled when she saw the smoke.

  ‘And thanks,’ he said. ‘Again. That’s twice today. It feels great, did you know?’

  ‘I’ve been told. You started a fire all the way from here?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, standing. He put a hand out and she took it, allowing him to help her to her feet. ‘The Sanang are running, like you said they would, but they were being too quick about it, so I wanted to slow them down a bit.’ He stopped, realising that they were still holding hands. ‘I, uh…’ Their hands separated, and both glanced away.

  ‘They’ll be reaching the valley soon,’ he said. ‘We should alert the squadrons.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He hesitated, his hand still tingling from the touch of her skin. His thoughts were a mess; he needed to stop thinking about Thorn, and focus on the battle. From somewhere he heard his mother’s voice, talking about being a professional, and the responsibility of leadership. He took hold of Monty’s reins and sent his vision out again, hovering like a bird of prey over the southern exit from the town, where Sanang warriors were beginning to gather, hauling their over-loaded wagons and carts along the roads.

  Olive groves flanked the terraced hills on either side of the main highway that led from the southern edge of town. At the bottom of the valley was a wide, flat plain, ideal terrain for the Holdings cavalry, who were lying hidden among the groves. Keir located Captain Holdsmith among a squadron on the northern hillside and sent his vision in through her open eyes.

  Greetings, Captain, he said inside her mind.

  She started, her glance darting around to see who had spoken.

  It’s Keir Holdfast, he said, talking to you from the ridge by the command tent. I hope I didn’t alarm you.

  No, sir, she replied, her thoughts swirling. I remember this feeling from training in the academy, though one never quite gets used to it.

  The Sanang will be approaching soon. Wait until their lead units are alongside our rearmost squadrons, then order a full attack from both flanks.

  But if we wait until then, sir, many will be able to escape down the valley.

  I will deal with any that get that far. I need the cavalry to fix the Sanang at the southern edge of town while the marines get over the bridges. Good luck, Captain.

  Thank you, sir.

  Keir withdrew from the officer’s head and glanced back at the town. Individual Sanang on foot were running down the road leading into the valley, while the wagons and carts were jamming the highway. He lifted his vision higher, taking in the whole of Anamindhari. The Sanang were in full retreat, and the marines were advancing swiftly over a wide front. One bridge had already been taken by a leading marine squad, and others were threatened. He relaxed his vision and it zipped back to his head.

  He staggered on his feet for a moment then straightened.

  ‘I spoke to Captain Holdsmith,’ he said to Thorn. ‘She knows what to do. There will be a few that get through before the cavalry attack. I told her I’d deal with them.’

  Thorn nodded, her eyes scanning the valley floor before them. ‘Don’t kill them all.’

  ‘I’ll save you a few.’

  ‘And the marines?’ she said. ‘Many casualties?’

  ‘Not that I could see.’

  They remounted their horses to get a better view, and Keir signalled to the nearest guard. A wagon laden with kindling was dragged up onto the ridge; and a trooper clutching a storm lantern got into position next to it. Keir turned back to the town as the first fleeing Sanang appeared on the road in the distance. As instructed, the cavalry remained out of sight, allowing the running warriors to pass between them on the wide valley floor. Their numbers increased, and groups of a dozen or more came into sight, fleeing the town as fast as they were able. Behind them, the first wagons and carts were moving down the road, pulled by a mixture of oxen, gaien and Sanang warriors. Fed by the breeze, the smoke from the fire Keir had started was spreading and thickening as it rose up into the grey sky; forcing the Sanang to detour around it.

  ‘Any moment,’ muttered Keir as the lead Sanang grew level with the rear squadrons of hidden cavalry.

  A horn blew, its wail piercing the air, then a great cry arose from both sides of the valley as the cavalry advanced, funnelling through the gaps between the olive groves. The incline was steep, and their speed picked up as it flattened. The Sanang on the road called out, their voices mingling with the roar of the cavalry. Some tried to form up into lines on the road, but the cavalry cut through them, their lances levelled. The Sanang broke and fled; the cavalry chasing them down and trampling them, and in minutes a whole section of the valley floor was covered in corpses. The cavalry re-formed by the road, their lances now pointed towards the town and the clustered groups of Sanang and wagons by the southern outskirts. The horn blew again, and the cavalry charged; six hundred of the empire’s finest, their steel helmets and breastplates shining in the pale morning light.

  ‘I wish I was down there,’ said Keir, his eyes staring at the sight of the cavalry in motion. The Sanang gathered on the road tried to run, but were pressed in by the surge still fleeing the town. The lances of the cavalry lowered as the horses smashed into the confused lines of warriors and wagon
s. Lances snapped and skewered the Sanang as the cavalry penetrated their lines, pushing them back. The momentum of the charge slowed in the thick press of horses and soldiers, and troopers were hauled down from their mounts and torn to pieces by the Sanang on foot. Two horn blasts blew, and the cavalry wheeled and turned to the left and right, extricating themselves from the melee and fanning back out onto the open fields of the valley floor.

  Keir tore his gaze away from the battle and back to the road. About two hundred Sanang had evaded the cavalry charge, and were approaching the ridge where he and Thorn were positioned. He turned to the trooper with the storm lantern. ‘Light it up.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The trooper opened the lantern and lit the end of a taper. The pile of kindling had been doused in lamp oil and it erupted in flames as soon as the trooper held the taper to it. Keir glanced at the flames, then back at the approaching Sanang, who were scrambling up the slope of the ridge towards them. He raised his hand, pulling a stream of flame from the burning cart, then swung his arm over. The flames followed his action, and the closest Sanang were sprayed with fire. Keir stretched the flames into a long, thick line, and pushed it down the slope, consuming those who had climbed the highest, their skin melting in the ferocious heat; and their screams cutting the air. Those still at the bottom of the slope tried to run, but Keir bent the two wings of the flaming line to block their escape, until the line had become a ring of fire, trapping scores of Sanang within. The warriors threw down their weapons as Keir reduced the width of the ring, forcing them into a tight mass just a yard from the flames. Another wagon of kindling was dragged forwards as the first had been reduced to a pile of ashes, and Keir fed its fuel into the ring of flames encircling the warriors.

  He glanced at Thorn. ‘The flames will hold them for a few minutes.’

  She nodded, and spurred her stallion forward. Keir and two guards followed her down the rocky slope, threading their way through the heaps of burnt corpses. Their mounts stopped shy of the ring of flames, and they gathered into a line, watching the Sanang in the centre scream for mercy.