“Perhaps I will, one day,” said Balfruss. “If we survive,” he added with a smile.
Ecko tilted his head to one side, looking at him with one eye closed. “I think you will visit. Soon.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I can see more than you,” he said with a wide grin, as if he’d told them a joke. “Thank you. Delicious stew,” he said to Darius. With another smile he walked away from the fire and disappeared into the surrounding dark.
With no more excuses Balfruss rolled his shoulders and stood. He felt much better for the food and sleep, but wasn’t sure he was up to this.
It wasn’t hard to find Finn. He followed the sound of ringing metal and eventually came to one of the temporary smithies. Weapons needed repairing, armour needed fixing and there were never enough hands to do the work in an army of this size. New weapons were being brought in from the city by cart, but with a journey that took over a day’s ride, there wasn’t time to shuttle items back and forth for repair.
Finn was hammering at a sword, his face glowing from the heat and reflected light from the forge. Sweat dripped off his face and his shirt was stuck to his body. Strangely he didn’t look tired, quite the opposite in fact. His rhythmic pounding echoed across the camp and Balfruss could see thick muscles jumping in his arms and shoulders as he worked. Although Finn’s eyes were focused on the metal, Balfruss thought his mind was elsewhere. Finn didn’t seem aware of his surroundings and paid no attention to anything except shaping the metal.
At first glance the other smiths were going about their work as normal. But every now and then one of them would risk a glance in Finn’s direction, when they thought no one was watching. He might be able to do the work, but Finn made them nervous.
Eventually Finn seemed happy with the repair. He put down the hammer and tilted the sword this way and that, inspecting his work. A bald man approached them, whose arms were as wide as most people’s legs. The only indication of his status was a small pair of silver hammers worked into the backs of leather gloves hanging from his belt. He took the offered sword and gave it the once-over with an expert eye.
“Nice work.”
“Any more?” asked Finn.
The master smith shook his head sadly. “Not tonight. You can come back tomorrow, if you want,” he added. From his tone he clearly hoped Finn didn’t. On the one hand he was probably thankful for the extra help, but on the other, Finn scared the other smiths because he was a Battlemage.
“Mind if I work on something of my own?” asked Finn.
“Suit yourself,” said the master smith, before waddling away. Finn took a lump of something from his pocket and stuck it in the heat with a pair of tongs.
“Have you time for a short rest?” asked Balfruss.
Finn looked up at his voice, shading his eyes to see Balfruss beyond the glow from the forge.
“I’ve already eaten,” said Finn. “She didn’t have to send you.”
“I’m not here about that.”
“Then what do you want?” he said, stoking up the fire.
“To talk about your power.”
“I’m busy,” snapped Finn.
“Doesn’t seem that way to me,” said Balfruss.
“Well, I am.”
“It won’t take long.”
Finn stared at him for a long time. “You’re not going to go away, are you?” he asked, and Balfruss shook his head.
They moved a short distance away from the forge and took turns sipping from a water skin. Maybe he should have brought something a little stronger. It would have made this conversation easier for both of them.
He was trying to find the right way to start when Finn interrupted. “So what do you want?”
“Are you always this direct?”
The big man shrugged. “Don’t know how else to be. You want to know about my curse?”
“What curse?”
“This power. It’s a curse.”
Balfruss started to laugh until he saw Finn’s expression. “Tell me.”
“It started about three years ago with pains in my head. Back then, life was good. All I’d ever wanted was coming true. I should’ve known to worry. The Maker doesn’t like people being happy,” Finn said bitterly. “The local priest wasn’t a bad sort, but the Maker’s book is full of people suffering, and the priest seemed to think it was a good thing.”
“What happened?”
“Me and my cousin had taken over the local smithy. Business was good. Mostly it was repairs, but sometimes we made new stuff: scythes, axes, shoes for farriers and the like. Then I met a girl.” Finn stopped talking and stared off into the dark. It was a long time before he spoke again and his voice was hoarse.
“The first time it happened I knocked over a drunk who was acting stupid. I did it without touching him, but no one noticed. They thought he’d tripped, but I knew. The next time was when I was angry and a couple of people were hurt when a roof collapsed. I tried so hard to keep it inside, but that made it worse. Eventually I couldn’t hide it and everyone found out. I begged the Elder not to, but he sent a letter to the Red Tower for a Seeker. Two months later an old man turned up to test me, and that was it. I had to go away for training.”
“How long were you away from home?”
“Six months.”
Balfruss shook his head in disgust. “Is that all?”
“It was too long,” said Finn. “By the time I got back everything was different. Someone else was living in my house. My cousin had taken on a new partner. And she…” He trailed off again. Balfruss didn’t need to hear the rest. “It’s a curse,” Finn said finally.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for it. Can you burn this thing out of me?” Finn asked desperately. His temper flared and blue motes of energy danced between his fingers before pooling in the palm of his hands as a living flame. With an angry shake of his head Finn released the energy and the magic fire vanished.
“You can control it.”
“I don’t want to,” snarled Finn. “It’s dangerous and I almost killed people I care about. I want to get rid of it. Can you help me?”
“Not in that way.”
“Then what good are you?”
Finn drained the last of the water and returned to his anvil where he began to take out his frustration on a misshapen piece of metal. Balfruss watched him for a while before walking back to his tent.
As he approached, Eloise looked up hopefully, but he just shook his head. Darius was snoring in his tent and Thule was finishing the last of the stew on the other side of the fire. He stared at Balfruss and offered a sympathetic smile.
“Give it time,” said Thule.
Balfruss nodded because there wasn’t anything else he could do. At the moment there was no way to reach Finn, but he had to keep trying. Some of what Finn said was true. He was dangerous, and unless he learned how to control his power, he could kill all of them and many more people by accident.
The events of the day finally caught up with him and Balfruss felt exhausted. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep and when his dreams came, they were full of images from his own childhood and the ruined village he’d not seen in over twenty years.
CHAPTER 11
The army had pulled back and Talandra and the others had moved further east to another borrowed estate. Despite having only been in her borrowed rooms for one night Talandra had already filled them with books and papers. Every night dozens of messages were collected at the aviaries in the capital city and ferried out here to her by messenger. Now her new office was covered with numerous tiny scraps of paper written in code.
Talandra unrolled the latest message from her spymaster in Yerskania. As instructed, her network would begin planting the seeds of new stories about Taikon and his miracles. His mythology was shaky, built upon a mountain of lies, but so far people in the west were blind to the terrible truth. Perhaps they were so desperate to believe that a proph
et walked among them they could overlook his insanity and the twisting of their faith.
Along the table, the Generals and her father were discussing the results of their latest strategy and its impact on the day’s fighting. Her brothers were on their way back from the front line but would arrive too late to take part in the meeting. Besides, Hyram was happier mixing with the men than planning strategy, and Thias kept him out of trouble.
Her father had also requested that Balfruss join them this evening to give them his view on how the war was progressing from a magical standpoint. Like everyone else Talandra thought he already looked exhausted and the war was only a few days old.
“It’s going very well,” Graegor was saying. “The gullies and traps are doing their job. It was a bastard to dig all those channels, but it’s working. They have more men than us, but that means nothing if we can keep splitting them up.”
“They won’t last much longer,” said Wolfe, “and we don’t have time to dig any more.”
“Still, they’ve done their job and slowed the enemy,” said the King, conceding the point and calming Graegor before there was another angry retort.
Talandra hadn’t known it was possible to be angry all the time until, as a girl, she’d met Graegor. Even so, the old General had been particularly irate these last few days, and she didn’t think it was the war that was bothering him. This wasn’t his first war, so it had to be something else, something personal. The only problem was Graegor didn’t have a family, or anything resembling a normal life outside his service to the King.
She made a mental note to ask her father a few discreet questions the next time they were alone.
The foul-mouthed General scratched at his eye patch and took a swill of ale. Surprisingly it was his first and they’d been at this for a while. As ever he was dressed in his black armour. Talandra realised she had no memories of seeing the grizzled warrior without it, or that hideous axe on his hip.
“What did our Morrin citizens say?” asked the King, turning towards her.
“It took a bit of convincing, but in the end they agreed. Seveldrom is their home, so they’ll fight to protect it. They’re on their way here already and should arrive in the morning. There’s no moon tomorrow night, so they’ll attack the enemy camp two hours past midnight.”
Morrin had perfect night vision, making them ideal candidates to become assassins or spies. Unfortunately, most of them regarded such professions with disdain and contempt. Deception and even role-playing games among children were seen as grave sins. Acting troupes never travelled that far north as it was a waste of time. Morrin culture included strong religious doctrines that were gradually superseding the laws of the land. In a few years Morrinow would be a true theocracy, with religious leaders deciding the fate of the nation. That made it very difficult to find even one Morrin willing to break centuries of tradition and risk everything for the promise of greater freedom. However, asking Morrin who had emigrated to Seveldrom to attack enemy supply lines was something they could get behind.
“Who’s leading them?” asked the King. His tankard held ale, but he’d done little more than wet his lips since sitting down.
“Kuldarran. He’s a good man,” said Vannok. “He doesn’t panic.”
“Good. So,” said the King, before taking a deep breath. “Tell me about our casualties.”
“Not as bad as we were expecting,” said Graegor. “With all the traps and quick strikes, they rarely had time to engage our warriors. We’d pull back and the rangers provided good cover,” he said with a nod towards Wolfe. High praise indeed. Something was definitely upsetting the old General.
“For every casualty we’re still killing three to five of their men,” said Talandra. “The worst we’ve suffered was when they broke through the northern pass.”
Everyone in the room knew that the current tactics were designed only to slow the pursuit of the western army. Once both armies were clear of the Fosse hills and its uneven terrain, they would have to engage on the field. Even then it would be a gradual retreat to the city, and then came the part Talandra was dreading the most. A siege.
“How are the Battlemages?” asked the King, turning towards Balfruss.
“Tired, and despite killing one of the Splinters, our job hasn’t been made any easier.”
“Why not?” asked Graegor. “Don’t you outnumber them now?”
“Yes, but it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Some Battlemages are stronger than others,” explained Balfruss. “It’s the same with the Splinters.”
“Then can’t you just push harder when you work together?” asked Graegor, getting irate.
“Graegor,” said the King, with a warning note in his voice. Talandra could see Balfruss was starting to get annoyed.
“Do I tell you how to dig your traps or direct your warriors?” asked Balfruss. Graegor opened his mouth to answer but the Battlemage cut him off. “You know nothing about magic or how it works.”
“It has been a long day,” said the King to Balfruss. “And I know you have to travel back in the morning. Thank you for coming for this meeting.”
Balfruss shook the King’s hand and went out the door while Graegor glared at his back.
“How is morale among the men?” asked the King, moving them on. The other Generals looked at Vannok, since he spent the most time in the field. Graegor never left the King’s side, and Wolfe never stayed in one place long enough to get a feel for the men.
“It was low after we lost the northern pass, but it’s improved since then. Units are fighting better than I’ve ever seen before. It’s uncanny,” said Vannok, sounding genuinely surprised.
“It’s not unusual,” said Graegor. “I’ve seen it many times. Warriors pull together when they realise the only thing between them and the Maker is the men in their unit.”
“It’s not that,” said Vannok, chewing his lip. “It’s something else.”
“Well, whatever it is,” said Graegor, quickly losing patience again, “it’s working, so don’t pick at it like a scab.”
“Do you have any news from the west, Tala?” asked the King.
Talandra filled them in on the latest from her spies about the change in King Taikon’s health.
“More worrying is that a handful of Zecorran fanatics have put their religious prophecies together with a Morrin splinter sect. It was just a cult at first, but now it’s something more.”
“Meaning what?” asked Graegor.
“Taikon has the beginnings of his own religion.”
“Maker’s balls,” spat Graegor in disgust.
“Why’s he doing it?” asked Vannok. “The Morrin and Zecorrans would never give up centuries of faith for a new religion centred on him.”
“He’s trying to consolidate his hold. The more he ties his mythology into the Lord of Light’s scripture, the easier it will be to convince them he’s the long-awaited prophet. The fanatics are outsiders and they’re desperate for power. They’ve banded together behind Taikon’s banner because, at the moment, he’s the most powerful man in the west.”
“He’s mad,” said Graegor.
“I agree,” said Talandra, “he’s becoming more unpredictable every day.”
“It doesn’t stop him being dangerous,” warned the King. “Don’t lose sight of that. His father was an incredibly devious and sadistic man, yet he ruled Zecorria for thirty years.”
“My network is doing all it can to disrupt the alliance from the inside,” said Talandra. “This religious slant might actually work in our favour for once. The Zecorrans and Morrin have become idolaters. Right now the truth is our best weapon against Taikon. My people are working hard to try and help the northerners see that. There have been some protests in the north, and we’re supporting all of the rebellions in secret.”
The King stood up and the others followed suit. “I need to get some sleep and I suggest you all do the same.” He gave Talandra a knowing look.
&
nbsp; “Soon,” she promised.
The others filed out to seek their beds, but Talandra stayed where she was.
A short time later Shanimel, her most trusted agent, sauntered into the room. Morrin spies were incredibly rare and despite having lived in Seveldrom for most of her life, it had taken Shani years to shake off centuries of tradition.
Dressed in deep purple trousers and a matching coat cut in the latest fashion, it made her pale skin look even creamier. Shani’s black hair was tied back in a ponytail which showed off the curve of her neck and the slight points of her ears. Her modest horns, little more than studs, were hidden beneath the folds of her hair.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, please sit down,” said Talandra.
Shani glanced at the open door through which Talandra could see the shoulders of two royal guards. They would watch over her until she entered the royal apartments, at which time she could finally be alone.
Talandra explained the latest about Taikon and the start of his own religion in Morrinow and Zecorria. Despite Shani not being deeply religious Talandra could see how disturbed she was by the news. Seveldrom was her home but she still cared about her people.
“I assume you want to take steps to disrupt this cult?” asked Shani.
“Yes, and I think it will have to be something extreme. Burning down old temples to a forgotten God is one thing. The historians may weep, and a few dedicated followers, but the people won’t be moved to interfere.”
Shani raised an eyebrow. “How extreme?”
“Send word to Gunder. Tell him to burn down a church of the Maker in Perizzi.”
Shani stared at her in shocked silence. Other faiths might rise and fall over the centuries, but people had been following the Maker forever as far as the history books could tell. She’d considered one of the other religions but they would not be as shocking and Talandra needed Perizzi to remain independent of Taikon’s control. Eventually Shani found her voice again.
“That will not be easy.”
Battlemage Page 10