As Cain and Lennox approached the gate, two tall Kellach in uniform emerged from a small guardhouse by the wall. They had mail and padded linen armour, covered by a moulded leather breastplate dyed black with a silver mace embossed in the centre. They were carrying new shields, rimmed with steel, and were armed with maces and crossbows.
‘Check them out,’ whispered Cain. ‘They’ve got better gear than we had in the Army of Pyre.’
‘Aye,’ said Lennox, ‘but do they know how to use it?’
‘What do you want?’ cried one of the guards from under his steel helmet.
‘We were wondering if the Iron Brigade is worth joining,’ said Lennox.
‘Then you should turn around and head back to the village,’ said the guard, ‘because you two would never get in. Barely one in five are accepted.’
‘Aye, but if they let you idiots join,’ said Cain, ‘then I reckon we’re in with a decent shout.’
One of the guards frowned while the other laughed. They opened the gate.
‘Up the path to the old cattle shed by the barn,’ said one. ‘They’ll tell you what to do.’
‘Cheers,’ said Lennox.
They walked past the low wall and into the large farmstead. As they approached the enormous barn, Lennox could hear the sounds of people from inside – voices, and metal on metal. A group of around two dozen uniformed men and women were exercising in the yard, while others were trying on armour and helmets. They entered the low building to the left of the barn and came to a stop by a table, behind which an older man was sitting. He glanced up at them.
‘You here to apply?’ he said, eyeing them.
‘Aye,’ said Lennox.
‘Names?’
‘Lennox and Cain.’
The man raised an eyebrow as he wrote their names in a ledger. ‘So the Lach and the Kell have decided to come by? We are honoured indeed.’ He pointed to the far end of the cattle shed, where a dozen or so others were sitting on long benches. ‘Wait over there.’
Lennox and Cain walked over to the benches and sat. A few of the others already there nodded their greetings, and Lennox studied them for a moment. They were young, he thought, and looked inexperienced; and in a second he had decided that not one of them had ever been in any army. Cain caught his glance, and they hid their smiles.
‘How long have you been waiting here?’ said Cain.
‘Since dawn,’ said one.
‘You come together?’
‘Naw.’
‘Any idea what the tests are?’
They shrugged and shook their heads.
Cain nodded, then leant back against the stone wall. ‘Wake me up when something happens.’
Lennox watched as his friend closed his eyes, then turned to gaze at the straw and mud-covered floor. Judging by the state of the competition, he knew he was in with a good chance of being selected, as long as he didn’t make a mess of the tests. The question was – did he want to be chosen? He had been on the road with Cain for days, making their way on foot all the way across the Domm lowlands, and had felt more uneasy with every day that had passed. The time he had spent in Severton seemed dreamlike and unreal to him, and he had persistent trouble in recalling many details about what he had done, a feeling reminiscent of when the Army of Pyre had administered dullweed to the squad as part of their training; to see how they would react, and to teach them what it felt like if anyone ever tried to drug them.
The only thing he was sure about was that it had been the right decision to leave, and the thought of going back filled him with an inexplicable anxiety.
More recruits arrived over the course of the following hour, until nearly twenty young Kellach were waiting in the cattle shed. Lennox heard a noise from outside and watched as a man and a woman in uniform entered. Like the man behind the desk, they were older than the volunteers. They turned to gaze up the length of the shed at the young faces peering back at them.
The woman shook her head. ‘Maybe it’s time to move on. The recruits in Westgate are getting worse by the day.’
‘Aye,’ said the man who had come in with her, ‘but we get the passing traffic here. It’ll pick up now that winter’s over.’
The woman snorted. ‘Right,’ she called out to the recruits; ‘outside, all of you.’
The volunteers got to their feet and filed through the door and into the yard.
‘Line up,’ said the man.
They formed into a row in front of the shed, and the man and woman began walking past them, eyeing each as they went. They stopped for a moment in front of Lennox, then moved on.
‘Welcome to selection,’ said the woman as they reached the end of the line. ‘Most of you will not be chosen. Follow me.’
She set off, and the recruits followed, with the other man in uniform joining them at the rear. They took a path that led through the dark pine woods that flanked the farmstead, and within minutes the buildings behind them were obscured by the trees. Their boots sank into the thick layers of pine needles that carpeted the ground, and the air was still and cold. The woman stopped when she reached another man who was standing in a clearing by the trunk of a massive pine. They talked for a moment as the volunteers formed into a group, then the woman turned to them.
‘One mile in that direction,’ she said, pointing with her left arm into the darkness of the woods, ‘is a small burn. On the opposite bank, are hidden ten small flags, like this.’ She held up her right hand, which was holding a red pennant about a foot long. ‘The ten that make it back here carrying one of these will be eligible for the next stage in the selection process. Proceed.’
Lennox sped off while most of the others were still standing around looking at each other, his pace taking him through the woods as he leapt over fallen trunks and brushed through thick patches of undergrowth. He turned his head every few yards, to catch a glimpse of what the return journey would look like, marking out the position of rocks and branches; trying to imprint them into his memory. He caught sight of the burn in the distance, and dived for cover, ducking under a large thorn bush. He recovered his breath, and waited. After a minute, he heard the steps of others, and kept himself low, watching as a group of volunteers raced past him. They spread out as they reached the burn, and Lennox heard the splashes as they crossed.
‘There was an easier way to do that,’ said Cain.
Lennox turned, and saw his old friend leaning against the tree by the thorn bush. ‘I knew you’d catch me up.’
Cain squeezed in under the bush, and they both sat and watched the burn. Figures came into view among the trees, some bearing red pennants in their hands. Fights broke out by the banks of the stream, as those with flags were attacked by those without, while others were still scurrying through the undergrowth, searching for any pennants that had been missed.
‘Look at the silly buggers,’ said Cain.
A woman clutching a flag leapt into the burn, but a man threw himself at her, and they crashed into the waters. Another man, tall and broad, his face and fists bloody, jumped over the stream, a pennant in his teeth, his eyes wide with a savage rage.
Cain and Lennox glanced at each other.
‘Naw,’ said Cain. ‘We’ll let that one go.’
A small group peeled off to the left, each carrying a flag. They kept together in a tight knot, plunging over the burn and climbing up the bank. Lennox and Cain moved without communicating. They sprang to their feet, and went tearing through the trees, hitting the group from the side before they were aware of their presence. Lennox barged over them, swinging his fists. He punched a man in the face and threw him to the ground, ripping the flag from his grasp. Another attacked him from the side, and Lennox kicked him in the crotch; and he keeled over, his knees buckling. Lennox grabbed Cain by the shoulder and they charged off, bolting through the woods, the sounds of violence continuing behind them.
The two former soldiers sped up, their legs powering them through the woods. They burst out into the small clearing, where
the three uniformed guards were waiting, along with the tall man who had made it back before them. Lennox smiled, and handed his pennant to the woman, who nodded, her face expressionless. Cain passed his over too, and one of the men offered them a canteen.
‘Thanks,’ said Lennox taking a drink of the cold water.
‘That was fucking brutal,’ said the tall man, his face bruised and cut. He spat a gout of blood onto the ground. ‘Good fun, but.’ He glanced at Lennox and Cain. ‘You two bastards don’t even look like you broke sweat.’
‘I’ve had more strenuous shites,’ said Cain.
‘You’re a lippy wee bastard,’ said one of the men in uniform.
‘Aye,’ said Cain, ‘but I’m a fucking good soldier too.’
The undergrowth rustled as a small group barged into the clearing. The four of them were panting and wheezing, and one fell to her knees. All had wounds; bruises to their faces and cuts to their hands and arms. The woman in uniform stepped forward and took their pennants. Water was handed out as they waited for the other winners to emerge. They came in ones and twos, staggering through the trees. The tenth to arrive was being chased by two men, but she jumped into the middle of the clearing, her hand holding her red flag high, seconds before the men brought her down.
The guards waded in, pulling the men off, and lifting the woman up by the shoulders.
‘Ha!’ she cried at the two men as they were bundled off. ‘Fuck you!’
The woman in uniform stepped into the middle of the ten who had succeeded.
‘Follow me,’ she said, and strode back down the path.
The others followed, leaving behind a guard who would escort the losers out. They reached the farmstead, and passed the entrance to the barn. Lennox glanced in, his eyes widening. The interior had been transformed into a barracks, with stalls and dining areas, with an upper level constructed from wooden beams where more beds and rooms were crammed in. He could see what seemed to him to be at least a hundred Kellach in uniform, with others outside exercising in the yard.
The woman led them to the farmhouse, a grand, two-storey stone mansion, and they entered by the kitchen door.
‘Sit,’ she said to them, pointing at a table with benches down either side. ‘Eat. Wait.’
The recruits sat on the benches and began helping themselves from the bowls of food laid out on the table. Lennox eyed the remaining volunteers as he ate a chunk of bread. A couple of the guards stayed with them in the kitchen, comparing notes written in a ledger.
After a few minutes the woman returned. She glanced at the ledger, then at the table. She called out a name, and the tall Kellach man who had been the first to deliver a flag got to his feet, and followed her out of the kitchen. A further twenty minutes passed before the woman returned, alone.
‘Lennox,’ she said.
He stood, nodded down to Cain, and stepped out from behind the table.
‘This way,’ she said, and he followed her from the room. They went down a short passageway, its smooth, painted walls lined with small oil lamps, and stopped at a tall door. The woman knocked.
‘Enter,’ came a voice from within.
The woman opened the door and gestured to Lennox. He stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind him. At the other end of the room were the two Holdings passengers that he had helped escort from the Plateau. The man was reclining on a long couch, a glass in his hand and a cigarette on his lips, while the silver-haired woman was standing by the large fireplace, warming her hands next to the roaring flames.
The woman frowned at him. ‘I recognise you.’
He nodded. ‘Aye, from the caravan.’
‘That’s right,’ said the man, smiling. ‘Racine, my dear, we’ve already seen this man fight, and know he can be loyal.’
‘Perhaps,’ said the woman, ‘but I shall need to read him all the same. We can’t be making exceptions.’
Lennox halted by the fire. Racine stepped towards him, her eyes boring into him. She paused, and turned to the man.
‘You try, brother.’
The man frowned and got to his feet. He approached Lennox and stared into his eyes. He gasped.
‘He’s blocking us,’ said Racine.
‘But how?’ said her brother. His hand went to a sword by his belt and Lennox tensed.
‘Are you trying to read my mind?’ he said. ‘Are you vision mages?’
‘How are you doing it?’ said Racine.
‘I’m not doing anything.’
The man frowned. ‘Could someone else have blocked him? He’s clearly a Kellach Brigdomin; it would be impossible for him to have done it.’
‘Tell me, Lennox,’ said Racine, ‘have you had dealings with a vision mage?’
Lennox thought back and wondered if he should say anything; but then, he owed her nothing.
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘She read my mind a few times, and could use her vision to fight and see things.’
‘Do you know her name?’
‘Sable Blackhold.’
The two Holdings glanced at each other.
‘I wouldn’t have thought she was strong enough to have done this,’ said Racine, ‘and why would she?’
‘I was working for her,’ Lennox said, ‘I don’t know. Maybe she wanted to keep our plans secret. She never told me that she had blocked my mind from being read.’
‘So you worked for her?’ said the man. ‘What, in the Army of Pyre?’
‘You know about Sable?’ he said. ‘You know that she works for Ghorley?’
‘Ghorley is dead.’
Lennox frowned. ‘He is?’
‘Murdered by his own staff,’ said Racine, studying Lennox closely. ‘What rank did you reach in the Army of Pyre?’
Lennox felt a surge of excitement pitch through him. The two Holdings must have been reading the minds of every recruit, so they could select the ones with the attributes they were looking for; but he, somehow, was immune from their powers. He could tell them anything he wanted, he thought, then he remembered Cain. He frowned, realising they would be able to find out everything about him from his friend.
‘Squad leader,’ he said, ‘and I’m a fire mage.’
The eyes of the Holdings siblings widened.
‘Prove it,’ said Racine.
Lennox took a step back and turned to the fire blazing in the hearth. He raised a finger, and a tendril of flame lifted upwards. He twisted it into a coil, like a snake, and made it dance in circles across the ceiling as Racine clapped and laughed. Lennox snapped his fingers and the flame extinguished.
‘This is wonderful,’ said the man, his eyes wild; the fire reflecting off his face.
‘I think we need to question Lennox some more,’ said Racine, ‘and perhaps conduct a few larger-scale tests in the woods, so we can get a clearer idea of the range of his powers.’
‘I agree,’ said the man. He walked to the door and opened it.
The woman in uniform turned. ‘Aye, sir?’
‘Send the rest of today’s volunteers home and tell them to come back tomorrow.’
‘Aye, sir,’ the woman said, bowing. She turned and strode down the passageway towards the kitchen.
The man closed the door. He smiled at Lennox. ‘My name is Gorman, and this is my sister Racine.’ He gestured to a chair. ‘Have a seat. Whisky? Ale?’
Lennox walked to an armchair and sat. ‘I’ll take a whisky, thanks.’
‘So you sat and drank with them?’ said Cain, a scowl marking his features.
‘Aye,’ Lennox said, ‘and then they fired all these questions at me; about where I’d served, and my training; Sable, Stretton Sands…’
‘You mention what you did in Rainsby?’
Lennox glanced around, but tavern was quiet. ‘No.’
‘Probably for the best,’ said Cain, ‘although maybe that’s the kind of thing they’re looking for.’
‘What happened in the kitchen after I left?’
‘The woman came back through and told us all to
fuck off. Folk were pissed off; I was pissed off. Apparently I’m going to have to find another fucking flag tomorrow.’
‘Aye, they got a bit carried away when they found out I was a fire mage.’
‘Why did you tell them? That’s the bit I don’t understand.’
‘They’re vision mages, like Sable,’ he said. ‘They can read minds.’
Cain’s mouth opened.
Lennox glanced at his friend for a moment. He was tempted to tell Cain that his own mind was immune to the mages’ powers, but something was stopping him.
‘Did they read anything else out of you?’ said Cain.
Lennox shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Anyway, we went out back into the woods, and I showed them a bit of what I can do.’
‘I saw the smoke when we were getting thrown off the farm,’ said Cain, picking up his ale. ‘I thought about going back in for you, but I figured you knew what you were doing. They accepted you, I take it?’
‘Aye. I signed up, and they gave me an advance on my pay and told me to rent a room in town and report in two day’s time.’
‘You got paid?’
Lennox smiled, and placed a bag onto the table. Cain stared at it.
‘Enough gold for rooms here,’ Lennox said, ‘and enough to eat and drink like kings.’
Cain raised his glass. ‘To mercenary work.’
Lennox laughed, and lifted his glass.
The serving boys and girls brought them several dishes over the course of the evening, and they ate like starving men, demolishing everything placed in front of them. When they were full, Lennox paid for a pair of adjoining rooms for two nights, and they took their bags up, washed, and redressed.
‘Shall we see the sights?’ said Cain as they met in the bar.
‘I was just planning on getting drunk here,’ said Lennox glancing over the patrons in the tavern. It was busier than it had been earlier in the evening, and there was a warm fire burning in the central hearth.
‘There are tons of bars and taverns in this town,’ said Cain. ‘If we’re going to be sleeping in that fucking barn after we report for duty, then we should make the most of our last days of freedom.’
The Magelands Epic: Soulwitch Rises (Book 7) Page 42