The two boys ignored him as he reined in and dismounted but the girl stared at him, not sure if he was saviour or robber. He stepped smoothly between them, shielding the girl, his cloak billowing, giving her assailants no sight of her. His hood he kept well forward. He had no intention of showing them his face.
'Must we steal from our sisters to survive?' he slurred through his partly paralysed mouth.
'She won't share,' said one of the boys, his eyes sunken into a face gaunt with hunger.
'But does she have enough to share, I wonder?' asked Selik. 'And would you have shared with her, eh?'
He turned his head to see the girl, dirty-faced with short black hair and tiny ears, weighing up whether or not to run. He held out a hand. 'Stand by me, child. They won't harm you.'
Reluctantly, she did so, her hand small and fragile in his fingers. He smiled, happy she couldn't see what it did to his face.
'Now,' he said gently. 'Show me what you were so keen to have to yourself.'
The other hand came away from her chest to display her prize. It was bread, a filthy crust, but there wasn't enough to satisfy one of these tattered children and what there was came covered in dirt and speckled with lurid mould. That they would fight over this…
'I tell you what,' he said, trying to mask his disgust. 'Why don't you give me that and I'll fetch food enough for you all?'
The girl gaped in amazement but the boys, who had been shifting about nervously, unwilling to desert any potential scrap to eat, frowned in concert.
'Why would you do that?' asked the other boy, a freckle-faced lad with filthy light brown hair and dried snot on his upper lip. He wasn't dressed in rags, it was just that his clothes had been worn too long. They were shabby, but not in tatters.
'Because you are hungry and we can spare food for the three of you. And because I am a good man, following a just cause.'
'Who are you then?' asked the girl, simultaneously tightening her grip on his hand and proffering the repulsive crust.
Selik accepted it and began walking back towards his men, his horse following obediently behind him and the children. 'Well, young lady, my name is Selik and I am in charge of a group trying to help people like you and your parents and all your friends. We're called the Black Wings. Have you heard of us?'
The girl shook her head. So did the two boys who walked the other side of him. Selik felt a grim satisfaction.
'Ah well, never mind. But I tell you what. In order for us to help you and all those you love get better and for there to be more food, when I give you something to eat will you tell me where some people are?'
The girl shrugged but nodded.
'Thank you. What's your name?'
'Elise,' said the girl.
'A lovely name for a lovely girl.'
'Why do you wear a hood?' one of the boys asked abruptly.
Selik stopped and glared at him, and saw the boy shrink back. His face might have been effectively hidden but the glint of his one good eye wouldn't be.
'Because when you fight evil, sometimes you get hurt. And now my face frightens little boys and girls and they think badly of me,' he said, fighting to remain calm. 'Now then, your food.' He clicked his fingers at the nearest rider. 'Devun, give some dried meat and some of that spring fruit you found to each of these three. They are hungry and their need is greater than ours.'
Devun raised his eyebrows but unclasped a saddlebag and fetched out some wrapped packages. Giving each one a sniff as he produced it, he passed on three to Selik. The Black Wing commander unwrapped them and showed the contents to the children; two contained strips of dried meat, and one soft fruit, turning to overripe.
'Now, this food will last you a while if you're careful, and I don't want to hear that you have fought over it.' He let his gaze linger on the two boys until both shifted and nodded. 'Good. If we are to become strong again, we have to work together.'
He crouched and passed over the food, which the trio grabbed hungrily, mumbling thanks as mouths watered and eyes widened in anticipation. The dividing up began immediately.
'And your part of the bargain,' he said, dragging their attention back to him, 'is to tell me two things. Is Lord Erskan still alive?'
'Yes, he is,' said Elise. 'But he doesn't come out of the castle any more. My brother says he's sick.'
'Or hiding from his people,' said Selik under his breath. 'And do you know if there are any mages still in the town?'
There was a pause.
'I think so,' said the freckled boy, after sharing a glance with his friend. 'But I don't know where they are.'
'I'm sure you don't.' Selik stood up. 'I expect they are too ashamed to show their faces. Skulking about at night if they dare.' He breathed deep. 'Now, you three be on your way but remember this. All your hunger and all your pain was caused by magic and the people who use magic without a thought for those it affects. People like you and your families are the victims. If you find out where the mages are, you come and see me and I'll deal with them for you. Run along.'
He watched them hurry away down the main street, their voices raised in squabbles about shares but their conflict over the crust forgotten, at least until their stomachs emptied again.
Selik turned to his men. 'If there is a more eloquent demonstration of the evil we face, I have not seen it. Mount up; we're going to the castle. And we're going there proud and through the market place.'
Chapter 9
Selik and his men rode slowly through the centre of Erskan, seeing in the human ruins of the once quiet and pleasant town a reflection of all the ills afflicting Balaia. Filth covered the streets, which were deserted but for a few scavengers out on the hunt for scraps they had little or no chance of finding. The Black Wings became instant targets for beggars, of which there were many. Some had been born to it and they now fared better than their once wealthier competitors, who looked sicker and thinner than those on whom they had so recently looked down.
The market tried to struggle on but Selik didn't see a single food stall. Silver and gold were barely in evidence either. What the traders wanted in return for their cut-price goods were bread, meat and grain. At its edges, inns were closed and businesses boarded up. Those not begging or attempting to ply a trade but just walking about did so with a kind of stupefied expression. Selik understood that too. The pace of what had befallen Balaia was staggering and all but impossible to grasp.
Down side streets, bodies rotted where they had been left, some obviously months before. And though the town stank of decay and disease, in some ways it was cleaner than before. Not a stray cat or dog ran, not a rat scuttled. All in the stomachs of the desperate by now.
Selik arrived at the castle and found exactly what he had expected: portcullis lowered, doors barred shut and guards on the gatehouse battlements, bows ready.
'We have nothing!' called a voice. 'And what we have goes to our people. There's nothing here for travellers. Move on.'
'I want nothing but the ear of your Lord for a few minutes. I am Selik and this is my Black Wing guard. We have food for ourselves and our horses graze the open pastures. Might I speak with him?' Selik's good eye roved the battlements. Erskan's pennants snapped defiantly in the wind, so at least he was at home.
'What is it you wish to discuss?' asked the same voice.
Selik saw him, on the left of the gatehouse, leaning slightly out. 'Restoration of Balaia to its former glory. A subject close to all our hearts.'
There was a short conversation. The man nodded.
'You may enter. Your men remain outside.'
'Naturally,' said Selik. 'And thank you.'
He heard the sound of the portcullis being raised and saw it rise above the gatehouse walls. The doors creaked ajar. Selik rode forward alone, seeing the killing ground beyond the doors lined with soldiers. Erskan was one nervous man.
Riding into the courtyard, Selik dismounted, his horse was led away to the stables and he was shown into the keep. A squire took him through a great
entrance hall hung with deep-coloured tapestries, through a single door to the right and up a short flight of stairs. A further corridor revealed four or five doors and he was ushered through the first of them.
'Relax, sir,' said the squire. 'My Lord Erskan will be along presently.'
Selik was in a small cold room. An empty grate dominated the far end and what light came in was through stained-glass windows in the wall to the right. A scattering of armchairs in front of the hearth was the only furniture bar two small low tables and the Erskan crest above the grate.
Deciding he'd rather be found standing, Selik walked to the windows and looked out. The town sprawled away beyond the courtyard, silent and grieving. He sighed and pulled his hood tight over his head. Behind him, the door creaked open.
'It wasn't so very long ago that I would have run you out of my town, Black Wing.'
Selik turned to see Lord Erskan enter, attended by the same squire. The youth carried a tray with two glasses and a pewter flagon, placing them on one of the low tables. Erskan waved him out.
'Come and sit,' said Erskan, moving slowly to the chairs. 'I can offer you a glass of wine. That is something in which we are rich.' A dry chuckle escaped his lips. 'And do take that damn silly hood off. I am aware of the deformities it hides.'
Selik swept the hood back, glad for the play of air across his head. He sat down opposite Erskan, who didn't flinch as he took in Selik's smeared left cheek, dead white eye and slack left jaw. He was a middle-aged man grown very old in just two seasons. Terribly thin and frail-looking, his wisps of grey hair were oiled down on a scalp that topped a narrow, long-nosed face with a sharp chin and dull blue eyes. His hands, liver-spotted and with nails bitten down to the quick, shook as he poured the wine and handed Selik a glass.
'So, Captain, or is it Commander, Selik. What great statement do you have to cheer the people of Erskan?' The Lord spoke as he put his glass to his lips.
'Captain, please.' Selik smiled. 'I understand your scepticism, my Lord. And I would concede that certain actions of the Black Wings have been, shall we say, overzealous?'
'A vast understatement,' said Erskan.
'Be that as it may, we have all seen these past two seasons and more that our fears were entirely justified. More than that, the reality has far outweighed even my most fervent nightmares.'
Erskan's nod was cautious. 'But surely you are not attempting to justify murder or any of your lesser crimes.'
'Murder is an emotive word.' Selik bristled despite his determination to remain under control. 'I'm only asking you to agree that magic must, as we have always said in the Black Wings, be monitored and regulated independently of the colleges.'
Erskan rested back in his chair. A cloud came across the sun, dimming the tinted light in the sparse room.
'Well, I think that might be going a little far. Though a code of conduct might be a good compromise,' said Erskan. 'After all, one rogue child does not make every mage in every college irresponsible.'
'But look at what she spawned, devastation and now war,' said Selik. 'And can any of us forget what has been caused in Arlen, or indeed in Julatsa, by the indiscriminate use of magic?'
'Well, I-'
'Have you been to Arlen, my Lord? Have you visited Korina or Gyernath, Denebre or Greythorne?' Selik's tone hardened. He could see he wasn't getting through.
'I must confess, no.' At least Erskan had the grace to be embarrassed. 'We have had problems of our own here.'
'Arlen has all but been destroyed by the new conflict. But your buildings still stand and your farmers are planting new crops. For you, there is an end in sight.'
Erskan's smile was thin. 'And our families bury their dead daily, they report their sick in ever-increasing numbers but the healers are dead too and the mages have fled. By the time the harvest comes, I will have less than a third of my people alive. And I wonder if there will be anyone fit enough to tend the crops, let alone gather them in.'
Selik took a long sip of his wine. It was a Denebre red, a wine that would soon command a very high price. Denebre and its vineyards had been swallowed by the earth. Erskan's eyes held depths of sorrow and desperation that should have melted the most frozen heart. But the Black Wings couldn't afford such sentimentality.
'Then now is the time to strike,' Selik said. 'To make the mages pay for the blight they've cast on our land. Where are they now, eh? In your hours of greatest need they are all at each other's throats.
'I need men, Lord Erskan. And I need them now. Do you think you'll somehow escape the war here? We have to make a stand. All the innocent people who have died because of the mages must be avenged.'
Erskan frowned. 'I sympathise with you in this, I really do. But all you have to do is look about you to know why I can't help you.'
'Without popular support, where are we?' asked Selik, failing to conceal his disappointment. 'Balaians have to stand up now. They weaken each other every day they fight. We can break their domination, but only if we do it now.'
Lord Erskan drained his glass and refilled it. The clouds moved on and the light sharpened.
'You'll find men out there with the will, I have no doubt,' he said, gesturing at the windows with his free hand. 'Men who have learned to hate mages, magic and everything they stand for.
'But where will you find the strength, Captain? You want an army but those you see around you are struggling just to keep themselves and their families alive. I will ask no more of them and nor shall you.'
'And your own guard?'
'I won't spare you even one. There are those within and without who would plunder what little we have. If I let that happen, I will have striven my whole life for nothing.'
Selik finished his wine and stood up, feeling his frustration grow. It was a litany he had heard in half a dozen places but he had true support from many more.
'But unless we curb the colleges' power now, while we have the opportunity, you are lost anyway.'
Erskan gave the slightest of shrugs but said nothing. Selik nodded and pulled his hood back over his head.
'We have all made sacrifices and we have all seen friends and loved ones die. But to make our futures worth living, magic must be tamed. And I will do it with you or without you. But be prepared for change, my Lord. And soon.'
Erskan stood too, and began moving towards the door. 'You will do what you will do. I cannot give you my blessing or my men but I can wish a brighter future for us all. If you are instrumental in bringing that to Balaia, then I will have nothing but respect for you. But be sure you are just, because Balaia's people have had enough of the unjust and power brokers treating them like pawns and play-things to be used and discarded on a whim.'
'And that is why I will fight. The righteous are always just, my Lord, though those who do not see the path are often shocked at its turns.' A thought struck him. 'When did your mages leave?'
Erskan shook his head. 'A day ago, perhaps two. Heading for Julatsa. They are long gone from you. I don't really remember.'
'Thank you for your audience.' Selik bowed his head.
'It wasn't just to hear you, Selik, it was to thank you.'
'For what?' Selik couldn't disguise his surprise.
'What you did for the street children. Every little helps.'
Selik smiled beneath his hood. 'Well, well, the sign of a Lord in control. Eyes everywhere.' He bowed his head again. 'Good day, Lord Erskan, and if you have a change of heart, you will find me. I already have support from Corin, Rache, Pontois – such as it is – Orytte and too many villages to mention.'
Erskan seemed unimpressed. 'They are free to make their choices, as am I. Take care on your path, Selik. The emotion of the people might be with you now but it is fickle. And no matter how much magic is feared and despised now, most of us count mages among our friends.'
'But while they conduct a war, you are nothing to them, believe me. You only have to see Arlen to understand that.'
Selik turned and followed the squire back
to the courtyard and his horse. He was irritated but not surprised at Erskan's reaction. But he couldn't let it bother him. He had to focus on what he could rely on right now. The speed of his horses on the open road.
After all, a day wasn't so much to make up. Not if you knew how. Yron looked out over the fires into the impenetrable shadows of the rainforest and felt at ease for the first time since he had set foot on Calaius. His men had returned from the base camp reporting some improvement in the condition of the fever and snake bite cases and they'd all enjoyed a relaxed meal an hour or so after midnight.
Guards stood at the edge of the ring of fires in front of the temple, but with the stores tent built and everything edible off the ground and sealed, he didn't feel the need to post a permanent guard there. With wood enough to keep the fires going for two nights stacked in the stores tent and in the temple he even felt sanguine towards the rain, which fell periodically and with enough force to douse flames and send his men scurrying for cover.
He turned and wandered back inside the lantern-lit cool of the temple, allowing the canvas flap to fall back and hide the night. After failing to attach it to the stone, they'd hung it over a log balanced on the wide stone lintel.
There was a healthy buzz of conversation as his men unwound and began to believe they might make it back to Balaia alive. The hardest part was done now. All they had to do was wait for the various stone doors to open. Irritating but bearable.
Smiling, Yron walked up to the pool and trailed his hand through its cold pure surface. He'd stared at it a great deal during the day, imagining himself jumping into its cleansing embrace. He reckoned it was somewhere around eight to ten feet deep, and wide enough to accommodate a quarter of the men at a time. It was a gift and they'd earned the right to use it.
Standing up, he began to unbuckle his belt.
'Ben, the time has come,' he announced.
From his right, a man cheered and a ripple of laughter ran around the circular room, echoing faintly.
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