“The Source?” asked Balfruss and his friend nodded.
“Can you test him?”
“I can, but even if he does have the potential, he’s too young for the Red Tower. Most children don’t manifest their abilities until they’re eight or nine.”
“Oh Gods,” said Theresa, cradling Jordie to her breast. “Who would send their child away at eight?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she clearly regretted them. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I loved being at the Red Tower. I’m glad I went.” All of which was true, but he’d cried every night for the first two weeks. During that time it felt as if he were being punished, and that it wasn’t the special place he’d been promised. He’d been so heartsick for home his chest had ached for days. In time the feeling receded, especially when he realised what being a Battlemage meant. A life free from the drudgery and routine he saw every day in his village. A life that would allow him to travel the world, make a lot of money and meet lots of exotic women.
In time his priorities shifted as he outgrew pubescent fancies and it became a chance to quench his thirst for knowledge at the same time as protecting others.
“You’ll need to wake him up for this,” said Balfruss, kneeling on the floor until he was level with Tannos’s face. Vann gently coaxed him awake but the boy was tired and just wanted to go back to sleep.
“Will it hurt?” asked Theresa.
“No. If he has the ability, he’ll be able to sense an echo of what I’m doing.”
While keeping his eyes on the boy’s face for any reaction, Balfruss drew power from the Source, slowly at first, trickling it into his being. Tannos didn’t seem to notice, so he increased the amount of power, drawing more and more heavily until it flooded into him. The boy yawned and tried to curl up on his dad’s lap, totally unaware of how much power Balfruss was holding with his will.
“He doesn’t have the ability,” said Balfruss, and Theresa let out a long slow breath, obviously relieved. Vann’s expression remained unreadable, so it wasn’t clear if he felt relief or disappointment.
Balfruss said goodnight to both of the boys, and while Theresa put them to bed, he and Vann got comfortable in front of the fire with a bottle of port.
“How are your parents?” asked Balfruss.
“My father died two years ago, mother is still well. She dotes on both the boys.”
“I’m sorry about your father. He was always kind to me when we were young.”
Vann shrugged. “That’s because he liked you. We never really had much in common. He thought joining the army was the stupidest decision I ever made, and he never hid his disdain. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and become a stone mason.”
Balfruss cast his mind back. “What was it he always used to say?”
“People need a roof over their heads every day. They don’t always need a sword.”
Balfruss laughed but it quickly faded as his thoughts turned to his mother and absent father. Annoying as he was, at least Vann’s father had been there for him while growing up. He’d made sure his family never went hungry and had been more of a father to Balfruss than his own. The last time he remembered seeing his real father, Balfruss would have been about the same age as Tannos. All he knew was that he’d been a soldier for the King. His mother had told him little else and after a while he’d stopped asking as it obviously upset her.
“My father was a difficult man,” said Vann, draining his glass and refilling it.
“The only time I ever disappointed your father was when he caught me with a girl in the barn.”
“I remember that,” said Vann with an evil grin. “He was livid. I thought he was going to march you both in front of a priest of the Maker and insist he marry you.”
Even though it was over twenty years ago Balfruss could still see Beth’s face, bright blue eyes and long blonde hair. As children they’d talked about getting married, having children and growing old together in the village. He would work in the quarry and she in the bakery like her mother. They were just childish fancies shared on warm, lazy summer days that seemed to stretch on forever. Balfruss had been happy to play along, but he’d never shared with Beth his dreams of becoming an explorer and finding places no one had ever visited before, digging up ancient treasures and statues encrusted with diamonds. Bringing home huge amounts of gold so that his mother didn’t have to work so hard all of the time.
“Sometimes I wonder where Beth is, how her life turned out.”
“She’s here in Charas,” said Theresa, coming back into the room.
“It’s true,” said Vann, moving to the floor so his wife could sit in the chair. She kissed Vann on the cheek and gently ran her fingers through his shaggy hair. “I saw her the first time about a year ago, and a few times since. Apparently I look exactly the same as when we were children.”
“How is she?” asked Balfruss, swallowing the unexpected lump in his throat.
“Doing well. She runs a tailor shop with a partner and she married a cooper.”
“They’re expecting their first baby in the winter,” said Theresa. Vann raised an eyebrow. “It was obvious.”
Part of Balfruss wondered what his life would have been like if the priest had married them that day. It was an idle thought, and yet even as it occurred he could map the path of their lives. While a home and family sounded nice, in time he would have ended up resenting Beth and their children for shackling him to the village and a life of routine. A life without adventure and surprises. An ordinary life.
Even if he had not been born with magical ability, Balfruss knew he would have outgrown the village of his birth. Some of his childhood friends had no desire to leave and were happy with simple lives, following in the footsteps of their parents, and even grandparents for some. He’d always needed more to feel a sense of achievement, a sense of peace. At times he envied them and wished he could be satisfied with less. Perhaps in time he might come to that place, but he wasn’t there yet.
Balfruss gave them both one final wave. Theresa closed the door and joined her husband beside the fire.
“Did you have a chance to talk to him about his father?”
Vann shook his head. “I couldn’t find the right moment. I felt bad enough asking him to look at Tannos.”
“He’s going to find out, Vann.”
“I know, but right now he has enough on his mind. It will wait a little while.”
Theresa had her doubts but held her tongue. Secrets this big never stayed buried for long.
CHAPTER 5
Talandra rubbed at her forehead, trying to dislodge the ache behind her eyes. It was late, or perhaps it had become early, and there was still much to do before she could even think about sleep. Her borrowed desk was covered with a scattering of missives from her spies, reports, maps, lists of weapons and men, and a diagram for a new catapult that an insistent engineer had pressed into her hand. A sea of letters and numbers swam before her eyes.
Her father had moved her and the rest of his advisors to the Kilgannon estate, close to the western border of Seveldrom and the two passes that led through the mountains to Yerskania. That put her only a couple of hours’ ride away from the army, but well out of harm’s way. Lord Kilgannon had given her a comfortable suite, but her favourite piece of furniture wasn’t the bed but a desk large enough to hold all of her papers.
“You’ll be no good to me if you fall asleep during the first battle,” said King Matthias coming into the room. “You should get some sleep.”
“Soon, father, I promise.”
“You said there was news?”
Talandra searched for the latest message from her spymaster in the western nation of Yerskania. The tiny messenger, a messúz bat, had died not long after arriving. They lived such short lives and yet it had flown so far to reach her. She wondered what it might have seen on its journey.
It wasn’t much of a tragedy in the grand scale, but it was also the first death in the war she’d wit
nessed first-hand. She’d held its fragile body in one hand and watched it gasp its final breath. Her inability to save the poor creature, and the feeling of being utterly powerless, still troubled her. Soon enough Sisters of Mercy would be providing succour to dying men, and they would be equally helpless to save them.
Talandra unrolled the tiny scroll and scanned the coded message again. “I have news from my network about King Taikon. There was an attempt on his life.”
“Unsuccessful I take it?”
Talandra shrugged. “It depends who was behind the attempt and its purpose.”
“Tell me,” said the King, sitting down and getting comfortable.
“Before you ask, it wasn’t one of my agents. None of them can get anywhere near Taikon. The Warlock and his apprentice Battlemages scare everyone, but the message does mention some public dissent in Zecorria, which isn’t surprising.”
“If their fragile alliance is to hold together, the war must happen soon. Even with everyone focused on destroying such a foul enemy,” said the King, tapping his chest, “other issues will only be laid aside for so long.”
There were a hundred stories floating around about the horrific religious atrocities her father was supposed to have committed. Burning down churches of the Holy Light, beheading priests of the Blessed Mother and burning holy books. While that might be enough for Zecorria and Morrinow to go to war, reports from her network indicated the other nations in the west had not voluntarily joined the alliance. The messages coming out of Shael were worse than anything she could have imagined. It sounded unbelievable that the whole country had been destroyed so quickly, but her people knew better than to exaggerate. Certain facts could not be denied. The capital of Shael had fallen, the royal family were dead or in hiding, and thousands had been killed and enslaved. Shael was gone and Yerskania, previously their strongest ally in the west, had been earmarked as the next target if they refused to join the alliance.
Vorga society believed in strength above all, so they would relish a chance to test themselves, and as ever the motives of the Drassi people remained a mystery.
But the people across the west were not happy. There had been a lot of talk about great acts of evil being committed by her father in Seveldrom. So far the only atrocities people had seen had been carried out in the west against their allies in Shael.
“My agents are already working hard to try and fracture the western alliance from the inside,” said Talandra. “There are many rumours, but some claim the assassination on Taikon was a test. A crucible laid down in the holy books. Some think Zecorran fanatics were behind it, others claim a Morrin splinter sect. Whoever was responsible, it’s changed things. Made them worse for us.”
“How?”
“Before the attempt on his life, Taikon was nervous; now he’s paranoid. He convinced himself someone was trying to steal the artefact he wears on his crown and in his panic Taikon swallowed it. Not long after the first attempt, he invited a second, in public.”
King Matthias rubbed his chin before answering. “The artefact protected him.”
Talandra nodded. “He was stabbed in the side, and as the spear left his body the wound closed, leaving no mark. His hold over the northerners is even stronger now. Now, many believe they fight in a holy war against an enemy of unparalleled evil.”
Her father inclined his head with a wry smile, but it didn’t stay on his face for long. “What’s so special about the artefact?”
“In both holy books dedicated to the Blessed Mother and the Lord of Light, there are references to immortal prophets. It sounds thin to me, and my agents are trying to undermine it, but it’s making both the Morrin and Zecorran priests squeal in delight. The alliance is tenuous, but if this religious fever spreads…” Talandra trailed off and shrugged her shoulders. The other nations in the west were not as focused on religion, but even they couldn’t ignore a leader who could recover from any wound.
Then there was also the issue of land. Seveldrom had huge grazing plains and rich farmland in the south which many envied. Talk of religious prophets might be the excuse that some used, but she knew others marched to war for their own reasons.
“It will happen soon,” said the King. “They must be nearly here.”
“That was my thought too. To maintain their momentum, blood must be spilled very soon.”
“When do you think they’ll arrive?” he asked.
“Tomorrow, maybe the day after at the latest.”
“We’re ready.” He sounded confident and Talandra took strength from him. “I’ll tell Wolfe to double the number of scouts in both passes.”
“How is the new General performing?” said Talandra, changing the subject slightly.
“Vannok?” asked the King, raising an eyebrow. “Two years in post is not that new. Why do you ask?”
“Just idle curiosity.”
“You’re never idly curious about anything, Tala,” the King shrewdly pointed out. “What do you make of him?”
“He knows his business. He isn’t quick to anger and the men are loyal to him. He’s a reliable man.”
“And?” said the King, gesturing for her to get on with it.
“Did you know he and Balfruss grew up together?” asked Talandra.
“I didn’t know that,” mused the King. “And what do you make of the Battlemage?”
“I haven’t decided. I’m going to do some more digging into his past, but he named Darius his Blood Brother. So he’s well travelled and respected to have earned such an honour.”
The King yawned and stood up. “You need to get some sleep.”
“I will. I just have one more meeting.”
“You look pale. Have you eaten?”
“Yes and I’m fine,” she said, smiling up at him. He sighed, touched her cheek and turned to leave.
As her father’s footsteps receded Talandra pondered orders for her network in Yerskania. It was the most central country in the west and despite the impending war its capital city, Perizzi, remained the main hub for all trade. And with trade came a constant river of information from all over the world that her people listened to. But they could also add to the river and watch as the stories spread throughout the west.
Perizzi was the key to the west, both strategically and geographically. Both the northern and southern passes through the mountains from east to west arrived at its gates. And with the largest trading port on the western coast it made the city critical. An army on the move needed to carry a huge amount of food, weapons and armour, which meant the docks would be busy for months shipping goods in before sending them back out through the passes. Accidents could happen, shipments could be delayed or sunk, food spoiled or poisoned and weapons damaged in transit. The number of opportunities to cause havoc from behind enemy lines was enormous, but only as long as Perizzi remained free from Taikon’s influence. If it should fall under his direct control then her job would be almost impossible.
The war on the battlefield was not guaranteed and already preparations had been made for a strategic withdrawal. The Battlemages might change that, but for now she and her father had to rely on the facts. The west simply had more soldiers. Eventually the numbers would begin to tell, so in order to win this war the alliance had to crumble from the inside.
If the worst should happen and the western army should defeat them, then Perizzi would become even more important. It would be from there that a resistance would start, led by her people. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but she’d considered it and made plans for her father to be evacuated.
In the meantime she thought it was time for new stories to emerge about Taikon. While some might believe him to be a prophet of the Lord of Light, others would see his healing abilities as perverse and inhuman. Scripture was often open to interpretation, but no one would support Taikon if they thought his powers were fuelled by cannibalism and ritual sacrifice.
She left the details up to her agent, Gunder, to decide, but the people in the west needed to loo
k a little more closely at who they were following. She also made it clear in her note that Gunder’s first priority was to the city and the people of Perizzi. She gave him leave to do whatever was necessary to keep it free from outside influence. She sealed the note in a small tube and had a servant take it to the rookery.
A short while later Jonkravish, the army quartermaster, stumped into the room, his boots echoing loudly on the stone floor. Despite the hour he didn’t look tired, but then Morrin were known for being a hardy race. His keen yellow eyes, set in his slightly wedge-shaped face, gave nothing away about his thoughts. Talandra had known him all her life and, unlike some, she wasn’t intimidated by his unwavering stare.
Jonkravish wore no badge of office or stripes on his uniform to show his rank, despite being one of the most important people in the army. He wore no jewellery or visible displays of wealth, and his tall frame was still lean despite his age. As ever he was smartly dressed and his horns were buffed to a glossy black sheen. Talandra knew he spent little money on himself, and that it mostly went on his family. He had no vices, was incorruptible and utterly loyal. Spies from the west hated Jonkravish with a passion.
“You look awful,” said Jonkravish as he sat down.
“Thank you.”
Jonkravish’s smile was mostly hidden behind his shaggy beard, but she knew it was there. “You’re too skinny as well. You should eat something and then sleep.”
“So I keep hearing. I will. Very soon.”
“You wanted to discuss supplies, yes?”
“Yes. How are the staging points progressing?”
Jonkravish regarded her silently for a long time before answering. “Heavily armed warriors guard them at all hours. The caches hold spare weapons, food and a few surprises,” he said with a vague wave of a hand. “The army must retreat, yes? We are ready when it happens.”
“Good.”
“But that’s not why you asked me here,” said Jonkravish. “You’ve never taken an interest in me before.”
“That’s not true. I’ve known you all my life. As has my father.”
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