The warriors couldn’t sense the presence of magic, but they started to look nervous as the Battlemages spread out across the front rank. Conversations drained away to a trickle, then stopped all together. An unnatural silence gripped everyone as they watched the mouth of the southern pass for any signs of movement.
The pressure against Balfruss’s mind increased exponentially, as if the thing coming towards them was too immense to comprehend. It felt as if a tidal wave was about to come rushing through the pass and crash down on them all.
His fingers began to tingle and the hairs on the back of his hands stood up from the accumulation of energy in the air. Finn was on his immediate left and Ecko on his right. They’d chosen their positions very carefully. Eloise was on the far side of Finn, as she was the most subtle Battlemage, and would be able to guide the smith if necessary. Even with the weight of the approaching force, Balfruss could feel a heavy pulse coming from Finn, a constant reminder of his strength.
“Remember,” he said to Finn. “They might try to scare us with nightmares, or enter your mind to crumble your resolve.”
Finn nodded. “I remember my training.”
“Then relax,” hissed Balfruss. “I can feel you gathering power already.”
The big man stared at him for a few seconds and then began to take long slow breaths. There was an easing of pressure and the echo of summoned power faded from the smith.
Just past Finn’s shoulder Eloise was looking in his direction. Without saying it she knew what he was thinking and shook her head. They were out of time. If they survived today, he would need to have a long talk with Finn about his power and additional training.
The minutes trickled by, but none of the warriors started talking again. They could see the tension in the body language of the Battlemages.
As he took a deep breath, Balfruss noticed an unusual smell that quickly saturated the air. It was spicy with a hint of rot. A mix of mouldy leaves and herb-baked bread. Those around him started looking for the source. Next came a slithering sound, and then a tap-tapping of metal striking stone, like a gang of miners hacking into rock.
What emerged from the mouth of the pass was an enormous slug-like behemoth with a pink segmented body that was so dark it was almost purple. Its body barely squeezed through the channel, even though it was wide enough for twenty men abreast. Metal-tipped tentacles, bony spurs and nodules along the length of its body helped propel its gargantuan mass at an incredible speed. When it reared up, its maw was lined with rows of sharp needle-like teeth as long as spears. A fetid orange cloud emerged from its mouth and an ear-splitting screech tore at their ears.
The warriors alongside him stared in horror at the monstrosity. It was unlike anything they’d ever seen before. Archers started to ready themselves while squad leaders made warriors form up in tight units. He could feel the fear coming off the warriors beside him in waves, but they all held on to their nerve and no one tried to run.
Balfruss had to admit that at first glance it was a well-constructed illusion, but he soon noticed several flaws. The ground didn’t shake or tremble, and not even one pebble was disturbed by the behemoth’s passage. If the monster had been real they would have felt its approach long before they saw it.
With a shake of his head Balfruss focused his will then drew power from the Source into his being. He reached out with his mind towards the beast as it howled and thrashed about. Balfruss stretched out one hand and made a sharp twisting gesture towards the creature. It gave one final scream and then vanished, leaving a ghostly after-image on the inside of his eyelids for a few seconds.
Channelling a bit of power, Balfruss amplified his voice. “It was just an illusion. Nothing like that really exists.” Or so he hoped. There were rumours of giant worms that lived under the sand in the far east. But none of those stories mentioned tentacles.
He expected another attack, something more subtle to confuse or muddle their senses, but nothing happened. Instead he was slightly disappointed to see six cloaked figures walk towards him and the other Battlemages. Each was dressed in an identical purple robe with a deep hood which concealed their identities. From their varying heights and gait, he could tell that some were men and others women. Even without seeing their faces he knew none of them was the Warlock. These were the Splinters, his apprentices.
The intense pressure he’d felt earlier on his mind came from all six. Their combined will had been forged into a single weapon. A massive crushing force that could flatten mountains, butcher armies and turn the tide of a war, if unopposed.
Balfruss and the other Battlemages had planned for this. The only way to oppose the Splinters if they combined their power was to form a Link of their own with one Battlemage directing the powers of the others. Although Balfruss thought Eloise was better qualified as she had more control, they had nominated him to direct the Link.
“I will lend you my strength, brother,” said Ecko. The little man wasn’t physically robust, with spindly limbs and a body which was all sinew and bone, but when he joined with Balfruss, there was an enormous surge of power. It took Balfruss a few seconds before his pulse settled and he could breathe normally. One by one the other Battlemages added their strength to his, and with each it took him a little longer to adjust.
As each joined the Link it gave him some insight into them, allowing him to gauge their strength. Finn was the least well trained, but also the strongest by far and when he joined the Link it drove Balfruss to his knees. It felt like hours before the black spots stopped dancing in front of his eyes, but when he looked up the Splinters were only a few steps closer.
The air around him crackled with static. Blue motes of energy danced along his limbs, worms of blue fire chasing others across his clothing. The warriors nearest to him started to back away, giving him plenty of space, just in case they were accidentally hit by some magical attack.
“Balfruss?” Someone was talking, but he wasn’t sure who it was. The edge of the grassy plain leading up to the mountain pass looked barren and desolate of life, but as his eyes adjusted he saw this wasn’t true. The air teemed with pollen and a hundred types of insect crawled through the earth beneath his feet. Above his head a murder of crows circled and, even higher, birds of prey coasted on thermals scanning the ground for food. All around he could hear blood pounding in the hearts of a thousand mammals and birds. As Balfruss stared ahead he could see the slow beating of a fly’s wings as it sailed towards him. Everything seemed to be moving so slowly.
In his reverie, Balfruss’s expanded consciousness started to sense a broad connection and a thread of energy flowing through all living things. A vast lattice was forming, and his thoughts started to reach out towards an idea that was normally beyond his understanding.
“Focus. You must focus,” said Thule.
The intruding thought brought him back to the present and the immediate danger. Turning his gaze towards the enemy he saw they were readying their first attack. It seemed crude and poorly constructed. A moving wall of energy laced with a thousand spears that would rip the soul from the flesh, leaving no visible marks on the skin. As soon as it was ready the Splinters released it towards him and the other Battlemages. His reaction was instinctive.
Balfruss knew that without the strength of the Link he would never have been able to repel such an attack. It would have instantly killed him and all those around him, but now it was so easy to tear their wall into shreds. Another attack came, faster than the first, but only slightly more complex. He dispelled that and then a third, which again was only a little more intricate.
“It feels like this is just a test,” said Thule, and Balfruss could only agree.
The cloaked figures never moved, spoke or gave any outward signs that they were alive. Narrowing his eyes Balfruss channelled some power and a spectrum of colours normally invisible to his eyes were revealed. All of the Splinters were bonded together in a Link, but there was something else as well. A narrow black thread of energy floated in
the air behind each, which disappeared into the distance. The black threads made him think of the strings of a marionette.
The Splinters’ attacks never wavered and eventually the complexity and speed reached a plateau. There was no real thought or invention behind them, and the Splinters started to rotate between different types, as if following a pre-agreed pattern to keep him and the others off balance and distracted. They couldn’t ignore the attacks as they were still lethal, and yet he felt as if the Splinters were there just to be a nuisance.
“Balfruss,” said Eloise, also sensing that something was very wrong.
“I know,” he said, gesturing for Ecko to come closer.
“Yes, brother?”
“This is a distraction. I’m going to release you from the Link. Warn the others. I think the real attack will come through the northern pass. You may be needed there.”
While keeping one eye on the enemy, Balfruss focused on the essence of Ecko in the Link. It felt as if he were trying to cut off one of his arms, but gradually he found the contours of Ecko’s power and released it from the collective.
When the next attack came it was more difficult to repel. The pressure against his shield was harder, and the toll on him and the others would be greater, but it was still possible to stop them.
Ecko spoke to a Captain and a few seconds later a scout galloped away on a fast horse. It was possible they would reach the others in time, but Balfruss had his doubts. Ecko took a few minutes to rest, sitting on his haunches and wiping the sweat from his brow. It was only then Balfruss noticed the sweat running down his sides. How long had they been like this, linked together, fighting the enemy?
There was a shift in the Splinters and one of their number separated from their Link, perhaps in response to Ecko. The tribesman was immediately on his feet and Balfruss could feel him drawing power from the Source.
The lone Splinter made no move to attack, but he reached out with a faint thread of energy which touched Balfruss, making him shiver. Looking down the line he saw each of his brethren have the same response one after another. When he sensed it moving towards Ecko the little man lashed out. The Splinter recoiled, and for the first time since they’d appeared, Balfruss saw independent movement. The Splinter cast back its hood, and even at a distance, it was obvious there was something very wrong.
The skin on the man’s face was pale and a sickly yellow in places, and tufts of black hair clung to a scabrous skull. His eyes were two black holes in sunken pits, and pieces of flesh were missing from his face. Holes gaped here and there, showing the inside of the Splinter’s mouth and white skull. With a hiss that showed rotting teeth and bleeding gums, the Splinter started to gather his power.
With a sad shake of his head, Ecko lashed out again, pulling one hand towards his chest in a tight fist. Something purple and pulsing plopped onto the ground in front of him. It throbbed a few times and then stopped. The rotting Splinter gasped then collapsed face forward on the ground.
Balfruss was poised on the balls of his feet, ready for the next attack. Much to his surprise the enemy withdrew. Their Link dissolved and the Splinters simply walked away as if signalled. Slowly he relaxed and then released the others one by one. When the last one separated, Balfruss felt smaller and the world seemed less distinct around him, as if his eyes were suddenly blinkered.
As his own senses returned he realised his clothing was drenched with sweat. He stumbled and would have fallen, if someone hadn’t caught him with a strong hand. The same person gently eased him to the ground where he sat trying to catch his breath, his whole body aching as if he’d been fighting all day. Looking up at the sky he saw the sun had barely moved. An hour at most had passed while he’d been in the Link.
A warrior offered Balfruss a skin of water and he drank deeply. It was slightly stale and lukewarm, but tasted glorious. His mind was awash with emotions and thoughts he was only just starting to process. He was having difficulty forming ideas that would have been effortless only moments ago. Full comprehension of what he’d seen while in the Link was eluding him. Thoughts and notions were starting to slip away.
“Are you all right?” a woman asked, and it took him a little while to recognise the voice.
“I need a moment.”
“Take as much time as you need. They’ll not come back today,” said Eloise. “Not after losing one of the Splinters.”
“What did Ecko do? I didn’t see.”
“Tore out his heart.”
“Did we warn the others in time?”
Eloise knelt down beside him and her expression told him everything. “Heavily armoured Zecorran soldiers punched a hole through the front line. Morrin berserkers poured in after. We’re pulling back to the first staging point.”
Despair crept into his voice. “What was this for? What was the point?”
“Without us, it would have been a slaughter,” said Eloise, pulling Balfruss to his feet. Her tone was sharp, but she sighed and gently touched his cheek. “They would have got through eventually. Everything we do until the siege is only a delay tactic.”
Balfruss sighed. “You’re right. I just don’t like being manipulated and tested.”
Eloise grunted. “Me neither.”
He cast one final look at the pass and wondered if they would ever see it again.
CHAPTER 9
Gunder sat down with a loud huff. His assistant, Sabu, locked the front door, lit two oil lamps, then pulled down the paper blind over the door. As the boy swept the floor Gunder went over the day’s ledger.
He shifted his considerable bulk around on the stool, the wood creaking ominously at his weight. When everything was tidy and the money secure, he locked up and waddled down the road to his local tavern, The Lord’s Blessing.
The wooden sign above the door had recently been repainted. The Lord of Light’s flowing white robes were now edged with gold paint and the sign seemed to glow in the dark. The innkeeper’s pious wife had requested the special paint from Shael in the south. This must have been before the war started, of course. No one spoke in public about Shael or the atrocities being visited on the population. Torture camps. Pits filled with hundreds of rotting bodies. Bonfires for the dead so large they turned the sky black for days.
With savage Vorga lurking to the south, and angry Zecorrans and Morrin to the north, few could blame the Queen of Yerskania for agreeing to join the alliance. Threats had not been necessary. Gunder noticed there were no rumours about threats being made against the mercenaries of Drassia. Apparently they were part of Taikon’s alliance, but no one knew anything more and he’d been asking all the right people. Perhaps Taikon feared their reputation.
The inside of the tavern was well lit, with lanterns hung on the walls and a thick white candle on each table. A group of sailors and dock workers crowded around the fire, trying to get warm after a hard day working outdoors. A line of muddy boots sat by the front door.
About half of the tables were occupied by a mixture of traders, general workers and merchants. Most were stocky pale-skinned local Yerskani, but there were also a couple of masked Drassi mercenaries and the odd swarthy black-eyed Zecorran from the north.
Tantalising fishy smells wafted from the kitchen, making Gunder’s stomach growl. As Perizzi was a coastal city it meant that seafood always dominated the menu. Primly dressed barmaids served drinks under the close scrutiny of the innkeeper’s wife. All wore headscarves, but they were a stark white compared to the bright colours Gunder usually saw on the streets. Yerskani people were not known for being demure, but the innkeeper’s wife didn’t like customers getting too friendly with her girls. Masson, the tavern’s enforcer, sat with a cosh resting across his knees as an added deterrent.
It was a fairly stuffy tavern but thankfully it was a safe place to have a private conversation.
“Over here!” said Ramalyas. The lean-faced carpet seller was a Morrin, but he didn’t stand out as there were others scattered about the crowd. Most Morrin were amenabl
e people, but Ramalyas had told him the voices of religious extremists had been growing louder back home. It was one of the reasons he now lived in Yerskania.
As Gunder eased into his chair he gave a nod to Zoll, the black-eyed Zecorran jeweller, and clasped hands with Iyele, a local vintner. A barmaid brought them mugs of the local black ale and took their meal orders.
“Just a small fish platter, if you please,” said Gunder apologetically, patting his bulging stomach. “I’m trying to lose weight.”
He dabbed at his sweaty face with a sleeve and adjusted his velvet cap. If anyone saw that his hair was briefly askew they pretended not to notice until he’d straightened it.
Conversation started light until inevitably it turned to business.
“It’s the will of the Lord of Light that heretics be severely punished,” said Zoll, “but I cannot believe all Seves have succumbed. I’ve traded with many good people in Seveldrom. A purge seems a little… extreme.”
Gunder raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The jeweller was the most devout of their group, and yet even he found the war excessive. It gave him hope that others in Zecorria might also feel the same. The alliance was only a few months old and already it showed signs of starting to fray at the seams.
“I do not believe the stories about the King of Seveldrom,” said Ramalyas. “I also want the war to be over.”
“Really? Why?” said Gunder.
“Because it’s killing my business. Silk from the far east is the best, yes? Customers will pay twice as much for such carpets. The silk from Shael is not so good and is unpopular right now. But with trade routes to Seveldrom and the desert beyond closed, I must dip heavily into my stock. Unless it’s replenished soon, I will have a bare shop and an empty stomach.”
“We’re all being affected,” said Gunder. “It’s a difficult time.”
“None of your family has been slaughtered,” said Iyele, staring glumly into his ale. “When that happens, then you can say, ‘It’s been a difficult time.’”
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