The infirmary was still full of screaming and bleeding warriors but, according to Vann, it could have been a lot worse.
Despite barely moving, while warriors around him hacked at each other with bloody weapons, fighting with magic all day was equally tiring for Battlemages. Darius and Eloise were already asleep in their tent, Finn had returned to the forge, but despite his prodigious stamina, even he had dark shadows under his eyes. Ecko had gone off into the dark, away from the noise and fires of the camp, to reconnect with the spirits of the land. Thule rested on the other side of the fire, but his face was pinched and his eyes troubled.
Today the Warlock’s apprentices had split into pairs and Balfruss had been tethered to his Blood Brother, Darius, for the duration. Since she possessed a deft touch, as well as greater control over her power, Eloise had been tethered to Finn in an attempt to stop him endangering them all.
Thule and Ecko had rested while the other four defended, and when anyone began to tire they would swap partners as in a Drassi folk dance. Even so, it had been a long day of blocking a wider range of strikes and concussive forces than previously. He still thought the Splinters lacked imagination, as they rotated through a series of six different attacks. It was almost as if they didn’t know how to do anything else, or they were simply following instructions and not allowed to try anything new. There was a third option, and his earlier suspicions had blossomed.
“The others have noticed too,” said Thule, his purple eyes glittering in the firelight.
“Then I don’t need to tell them,” Balfruss snapped and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I have something else on my mind.”
“He nearly killed her today, although she would deny it if you asked.”
Balfruss ground his teeth and forced himself to take deep breaths. “He won’t listen to reason. He thinks his power is useless.”
“You’re thinking like a Battlemage. You were taught for years how to use your power. He had six months. He saw his training as nothing more than a necessary chore to be endured. It took him away from his home, his life.”
Thule’s golden skin reflected in the firelight, rainbow colours dancing across his face and arms.
Balfruss could feel the other man’s fatigue through their mind link, but he was starting to sense much more. The most prominent thought, which Thule made no attempt to hide, was a desire to free his people in Shael. If winning the war and killing every last soldier in the west was the only way, then he would do it. Nothing short of death would stop him. Thoughts of his country and his people burned in his mind like embers in the dark. It was for them that he had climbed out of the grave and travelled so far, while in so much pain.
Thule steered their conversation back to the immediate problem.
“You could try to appeal to his sense of patriotism, but I suspect he will ask what more you want from him.”
“Then I will have to think of something else,” said Balfruss, getting to his feet. “Another way to reach him.”
As before, he found Finn by following the rhythmic sounds of pounding metal which led him to the smithy. The big man was hard at work, beating on the same black piece of metal Balfruss had seen him with last time. He seemed frustrated, as the ore looked exactly the same shape and colour as before. Finn looked as if he were working out some of his aggression, hammering the metal harder than was strictly necessary. With a curse he relented and stuck the metal back in the fire. It was only then that he looked up and saw Balfruss.
“Time for another lecture about my power?” Finn sneered. Balfruss swallowed an angry retort and shook his head. “Then unless you’re good at mending shields, I’d go back to your tent and get some rest.”
“What are you working on now?” he asked, pointing at the fire. “I saw you with it last time.”
“Nothing. A joke,” said Finn. He turned the piece of metal over and stoked the fire around it.
“I’ve not seen ore like that before.”
Finn stared at him. “Do you really want to know? Because I’ve no time for games.”
“By the Maker, I swear,” said Balfruss, touching his heart. “No games, just simple talk. What is it?”
Finn pulled the lump out of the fire, twisting it this way and that. The black lump seemed to sparkle, as if studded with pieces of broken glass.
“It’s a piece of star metal.” There was a note of awe in his voice. “One night a few years ago, I saw a shower of fire falling from the sky. The local priest said it was an omen from the Blessed Mother. A warning that dark times were coming. I asked the village Elder the next day and he told me they were rocks made of pure evil, which didn’t make sense either.”
“What did you do?” asked Balfruss.
“I needed to find the truth for myself, so I tracked down where one had fallen. It took months, but eventually I found a farmer who complained of losing a portion of his crops to fire from the sky. He was happy to let me dig it out of his field and take it away. Saved him a job for another day. Inside the rock was this piece of metal. I showed it to every smith I could find, but none had seen anything like it, or knew what to do with it.”
Finn fell silent and was lost in thought. His eyes became distant and he was probably thinking of better times. Balfruss didn’t disturb him and inevitably his mind turned to fond childhood memories of long summer days with Vann. After months of reading and studying indoors, he was always happy to return home and spend it outside. The familiar sights, sounds and smells of the village refreshed him in a way he couldn’t describe.
It was all gone now. His entire village, wiped off the map by a band of raiders. The only real home Balfruss now had was the capital city, although he owned no house within its walls. The money was there for a house and more, sat in the bank along with other possessions he’d picked up on his travels, but so far there had been no reason to stay.
Finn’s voice startled him from his reverie. “A special order meant me and my cousin had to travel to the capital. The last time I was here, I asked a Forge Master about the metal. He’d seen it once before and said it was useless. That it was tougher than any iron he’d seen, and couldn’t be smelted. So far, he’s been right.”
“I’m not a smith, but tell me why,” said Balfruss.
“No matter how much I heat it, the metal stays solid. I’ve tried making it as hot as possible and still nothing.”
Balfruss approached the fire and looked carefully at the furnace. It glared orange like an angry eye and even at this distance the heat against his skin was intense.
“How tough is the furnace?” asked Balfruss.
Finn raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“How hot would the fire need to be before it melted the furnace?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” said Finn with an indulgent smile, suddenly becoming the teacher.
“How hot?” persisted Balfruss.
“I don’t know. Why?”
Balfruss rolled up his sleeves and stared at the fire. “If the furnace starts to crack, tell me and I’ll stop.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Heat up the fire,” he said, focusing his will, then drawing power from the Source. After such an exhausting day it came more slowly than normal, but Finn saw none of this. His eyes were locked on the furnace.
As Balfruss forced more energy into the fire, gradually trickling in a filament of power, the glow started to change colour from orange to deep red and then white. Finn put the star metal back in the forge, turning it this way and that in the fire.
“How long can you keep it this hot?” he asked.
“A while,” said Balfruss through gritted teeth. In truth the strain was already starting to bite, and the sweat on his brow was not just from the heat of the fire.
A short time later Finn removed the lump of metal with tongs and put it on the anvil. At first glance it seemed as if nothing had changed, but looking closer Balfruss noticed the metal had slightly changed colour. The black had become a de
ep purple, run through with silver threads. Finn gave it a brief tap with the hammer and the sound of it rang differently than before.
“It’s starting to become malleable,” marvelled Finn, before returning it to the fire.
“This is starting to hurt,” said Balfruss, wiping his face with the back of one hand.
“A little longer,” urged Finn, his whole face lit up with child-like glee.
Balfruss tried to blot out the growing spike of pain inside his head, but it would not be ignored and started to blossom into something else.
“Finn,” he said, but either the smith didn’t hear or he pretended not to. He was staring deep into the furnace and Balfruss wondered how he could see anything. With a cry of triumph Finn pulled the metal from the fire and returned it to the anvil. It was glowing orange, but somehow Balfruss could still see silver veins running through it.
With regular, even strokes Finn began to work the metal, and this time it responded to the hammer. He only had eyes for the star metal and didn’t seem aware of his surroundings. Balfruss released the power and sank to the ground, out of breath and even more tired than before. After a while his breathing returned to normal, but the pounding in his head remained. To make it worse the thumping wasn’t in time with Finn’s hammer. Sleep seemed the best idea to rid him of it, so he closed his eyes for a moment.
It was the silence that made him sit up. The hammering had stopped, but not the drum beat inside his head. Finn was standing by the slack tub, holding something under the oily water and smiling as if he’d received the best news of his life. With reverence he pulled the star metal from the water. Balfruss expected to see a finished weapon, but was disappointed when it was only a slightly flatter lump of grey metal. Regardless, Finn put it to one side with great care before fetching a water skin and sitting down. He offered it and Balfruss took a long drink before passing it back.
“It’s never been done before,” Finn said with a broad smile. “No one has ever forged a weapon using star metal. It could take me weeks.”
“You’re welcome,” said Balfruss, struggling to his feet.
As Finn helped him up, Balfruss could feel him trembling with excitement.
“How? How did you do it?”
“You already know.”
He barely hesitated before asking “Can you teach me?”
“I can. But we’ll start tomorrow night, all being well,” he said with a vague gesture at the army of men camped around them.
“Tomorrow night. Thank you, Balfruss.” Finn’s smile was so genuine that Balfruss couldn’t help smiling in return.
When Eloise woke up from her nap by the fire she found herself alone with Darius. Balfruss had gone in search of Finn, Ecko had wandered off into the dark and she could hear Thule snoring in his tent.
Darius smiled when he saw she was awake, but then returned to staring into the fire. She knew that look.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tell me again about the destruction of the Red Tower,” said Darius, much to her surprise.
“It’s still there, but after the Grey Council left, it became disorganised. Children who find their way there are trained, but it’s brief and barely enough. Most of the teachers left and never returned. It’s nothing like what you have at home.”
In the desert any child showing any magical sensitivity was celebrated and their family honoured and showered with gifts. In every city there was a special temple devoted to the Maker, run by the Jhanidi, priests with magic. The monks trained children and adults in their temples to control their ability, but also how to control their emotions so that they were always in charge of their power. Children were not taken away to a remote location and trained in secret behind closed doors. At the end of their training all students were given a choice. Either they could return to their normal lives, or they could choose to serve their King. Many chose the latter and were bestowed with the mark of Ayilah. The tattoo they all bore was not a brand of service as some from the west believed. The mark was a badge of respect that told everyone who they were dealing with at a glance.
“Something should be done. When we return home, I will speak to the King. Perhaps children from the west could be trained by the Jhanidi. Of course I will speak to King Matthias about this as well. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a very good idea, but it won’t help us with Finn.”
Darius said nothing for a while, but a scowl crept across his face. She knew her husband well enough to know where the conversation had been going from the start.
“He could have killed you.”
“But he didn’t,” she reminded him.
“He’s dangerous, unpredictable and he’s putting us all at risk.”
“You mean me.”
“I mean all of us,” said Darius, struggling to contain his anger. “Today he was tethered to you, but tomorrow it could be any one of us.”
“I’ve taught him some basic breathing techniques. It’s a foundation we can build on to help him control his emotions.”
“I don’t want you to be tethered to him again. I forbid it!” said Darius.
Eloise raised an eyebrow then put her arms around Darius. “If you’d wanted a compliant wife, you would have married that hag your mother kept bringing to the house when you showed an interest in me.”
Darius’s fond smile quickly faded. “I’m scared about what might happen. I swore on our wedding day to protect and honour you. I feel that I’m failing.”
“All will be well.”
Darius grunted. “You have more faith than me.”
Eloise held him tight and together they stared into the fire, their thoughts drifting away like ash on the wind. Part of Eloise believed her own words, but another growing part worried about Finn and what he might do. During the battle there were three occasions when he’d held back a volcano of power with the thinnest shred of control. If he’d lost control she would have been burned to ash from being connected to him. Finn had little discipline and wielded his power without any planning or forethought, just raw emotion and brute strength. Until he mastered his abilities he would remain a threat. She only hoped that both she and Balfruss could make a difference before it was too late.
CHAPTER 15
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” said Shani, for the tenth time since they’d set off from the palace. The army were steadily retreating towards the capital but Talandra had decided to come home early with her father and Graegor. There were some things that she needed to do in person and she could do more here than in the field.
“Just watch where you’re going,” said Talandra, tugging on the hood of her borrowed robe to make sure it concealed her face.
“I can see in the dark, remember?” said Shani, her amber eyes glowing slightly in the gloom.
“I know, so tell me what to avoid.”
Just before they’d left, Talandra had heard back from Gunder about High Priest Filbin. The seed had been planted in his mind. Now all she needed to do was make sure an appropriate letter was waiting for him when he returned home to Zecorria. The contents didn’t really matter, as long as it contained several mentions of the phrase ‘true faith’.
Most letters sent to the High Priest would never pass beyond the lowest circle of his priests, but one from herself would land directly on his desk. Their success on the battlefield and in keeping Perizzi free was not guaranteed, so it didn’t hurt to try to disrupt the alliance from the inside with a powerful ally. It was even better that, at home, Filbin was almost as powerful as Taikon. He was also insulated by his people so he couldn’t have a convenient accident or be ignored.
“There are better places to meet him,” said Shani, bringing her back to the present and her next meeting. “It’s not uncommon to entertain foreign dignitaries at the palace.”
“We need him to stick to his normal routine. Summoning him to the palace at short notice would look very suspicious.”
“You’re just being stubbo
rn. What if someone recognises you?” A hint of desperation was creeping into Shani’s voice. Talandra knew she was just trying to protect her, but she needed to do this tonight. It also wasn’t often that she managed to wander through the streets without guards watching her every move. She felt a strange sense of freedom simply in walking unannounced and unrecognised through the streets of her city.
“No one will recognise me, and even if they did, no one would believe them anyway!”
Shani sighed and led the rest of the way in a sulky silence.
The building looked no different to any of the others on the street. There were no discerning features, nothing hung or painted in the windows and the front door bore no special decorations or markers. They watched the building from the mouth of an alley across the street for several minutes before Shani signalled the all clear. Ignoring the front door she led her down to the end of the street and then back along the narrow lane between the row of buildings and the one behind.
“Why aren’t we using the front door?” whispered Talandra.
“That’s only for customers.”
Talandra’s boots squelched as she stepped on all sorts of things she couldn’t and didn’t want to identify in the dark. When they reached the back door of the right building Shani knocked three times quickly and then stepped back. A small hatch slid open at head height in the door, revealing a pair of brown eyes set in a wide face.
“Good evening, Red,” said Shani. Tonight she’d dressed in worn woollen clothing in dull browns and Talandra wore the same. All jewellery and anything of value had been left back at the palace to avoid attracting undue attention. The only thing she couldn’t change was her face, but she’d concealed that in a hood.
“Who’s that with you?” asked Red, from behind the door. Talandra stepped forward until the man could see her face.
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