He scanned the floor by the bed, but saw only faint scuff marks and the same indentations from heavy footprints in the rug over and over. No one but the King had walked in this bedchamber in a long time.
Someone grabbed his forearm, breaking his concentration. Acting on instinct Balfruss spun his wrist in a circle, broke their grip and shoved the person away. His time in the east had not just been about protecting the Desert King and learning local customs.
Balfruss turned to see Prince Thias stumbling back, his face haggard and etched with grief. Vannok was stood behind him, Talandra in the doorway. She seemed unable, or unwilling, to cross the threshold and enter the room.
“I’m sorry, Highness, I was lost in thought. I didn’t see it was you,” said Balfruss, adding a deep bow to his apology.
“Tell him,” said Thias after a moment’s pause. He was definitely cut from the same cloth as his father. Another man would have made more of the slight. The corpse at Balfruss’s eye corner continued to torment him.
“The door was locked from the inside and the windows were sealed,” explained Vannok. “Guards were posted at the end of the hallway and they came running when they heard the screams. When they couldn’t open the door they broke it down.”
“Are there any secret passageways in the palace? Any false walls?” asked Balfruss. He wanted to eliminate the obvious, before he considered the alternative.
“None,” said Thias with confidence. Behind him Talandra’s expression told a different story.
“There are none in this part of the palace,” said Talandra. The others looked at her with surprise but she just shrugged. As the head of intelligence it was her business to know such things.
“Do you know how this was done?” asked Thias.
“I can guess,” hedged Balfruss. “I’m certain magic was involved, and I know who is responsible; beyond that I cannot be sure.”
Thias seemed lost in thought, but eventually he asked, “Was it the Warlock?”
“Yes, Highness.”
“Tell me your theory.”
Balfruss wondered if he should, but from their expressions, half an answer wouldn’t be enough. “It’s a myth, from a different time when magic users used to be called Sorcerers. It’s said they could Dreamwalk. Leave behind their flesh and travel great distances as a spirit.”
“In their sleep?” asked Talandra, finally coming into the room.
“Something more like a trance, brought about with drugs and music to focus the mind.”
“And while, dreamwalking,” said Thias, stumbling over the new term, “these Sorcerers could hurt people?”
“I believe the King was asleep and the Warlock entered his dreams. In the King’s mind he may have fought something monstrous, maybe a huge beast, and it tore him apart. Somehow the Warlock was able to make it real. That would explain the wounds.”
Thias stared at him and Balfruss saw something shift behind his eyes. “Can you do it? Enter dreams and kill people?”
“No,” said Balfruss. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“So any one of us could be murdered in our sleep,” said Talandra.
“To do something like that would be incredibly taxing, physically and mentally. A lot of power would be needed. Any nearby Battlemage would be able to sense the build-up of energy.”
“What do you propose to prevent further attacks?” asked Thias. Balfruss didn’t even realise he’d come up with a plan until Thias asked the question.
“A Battlemage must be taken off the front lines and brought here to guard you,” he said to Thias, as the successor to the throne. “One would be enough to keep watch while you sleep and prevent it happening again.”
It was a gamble. Not only because his proposal was built on a theory, but taking someone off the front line would increase the pressure on the others. They also had no idea if the Warlock would try something similar in the future.
“See that it’s done,” Thias said to Balfruss. Without another word Thias walked out, followed closely by Vann and Talandra, leaving him alone with the body of the dead King.
Balfruss wondered if the mind link would work over such a great distance, but even as he considered it Thule’s voice came into his mind.
“I am here, brother.”
CHAPTER 19
Balfruss was ready to collapse from exhaustion. A few hours’ sleep the night before had not been enough, and the long ride through the night had sapped his energy further. He desperately needed sleep, but before he could lie down there were arrangements to be made with the other Battlemages. It took a while to organise, as he was communicating over a long distance through Thule, but eventually they came up with a plan.
For the next three nights he would remain at the palace and guard the royal family from further attack. After that the Battlemages would take turns on the front line and at the palace. He was needed on the battlefield, for his strength and control, but he knew the others would be able to manage without him against the Splinters. Apart from Finn, all of them were experienced and accomplished Battlemages in their own right. In three days Darius would replace him and then Eloise after that.
Although no one had said it, they planned to exclude Finn from rotating away from the front line. For all his power, he couldn’t effectively protect the royal family and no one wanted to take the risk. Balfruss guessed that the awkward conversation about this would be left to him. It was something to worry about another day.
There might come a point in the war when this method of protecting the royal family wasn’t necessary, if the army was pushed back as far as the city. Again that was something beyond his control, so Balfruss focused on the immediate problem.
He’d been given generous accommodation with spacious rooms, but the only thing that drew his attention was the bed. If he needed to be up all night, then he had to get some rest. It was early evening when someone woke him and he was summoned to dinner with the royal family.
Even before entering the room Balfruss heard raised voices and walked into the middle of an argument around the table. The Generals had returned from the front line with what sounded like disastrous news. Graegor was shouting at Vannok, while Thias and Talandra were unsuccessfully trying to calm them down.
“You were wrong to give the order,” said Graegor.
“Please, sit down,” said Thias, but both Generals ignored him.
Vannok angrily shook his head. “You’d advocate genocide?”
“What are you talking about?” scoffed Graegor. “You’re exaggerating and you panicked.”
A thick vein began to pulse in Vannok’s forehead. He seemed seconds away from punching the grizzled General in the face.
“I recognise that look. Step back Vann,” said Balfruss, stepping in front of his friend.
“Stay out of this,” snarled Graegor. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“I fight in the war every day, so it does concern me,” said Balfruss, facing off against the old General.
“You know nothing of war, boy,” sneered Graegor.
Balfruss laughed, a dry bitter sound. “Have you ever travelled abroad? Ever seen what else is out there?”
“What does that mean?” asked the old General.
“It means there’s more to the world than your country and your wars,” said Balfruss. “You stare at the horizon and think only of Seveldrom. You’re blinkered and ignorant.”
“We need to talk this through, calmly,” said Thias, but it wasn’t enough.
“What did you call me?” snarled Graegor.
“Graegor,” shouted Talandra, her voice echoing off the walls. She patiently waited until the General looked in her direction. “You knew my father for more years than I’ve been alive. I know it hurts, but picking fights here won’t honour all that he accomplished. We need your wisdom and your strength, now more than ever.”
Graegor still seemed poised on the verge of violence, but Balfruss ignored his bluster. It took Balfruss a moment to realise
Graegor’s rage was misplaced anger at the loss of his oldest friend. Rage was the only way he knew how to express himself. If not for his friends, Balfruss knew he might have ended up the same. Thankfully his rage had been tempered. But what would the General become without the King?
“I suggest we eat and then talk about this after,” said Thias, and no one disagreed.
The dining room was not one of the larger banquet halls for visiting dignitaries, but a space for ten to sit comfortably around a table. The heirs took after their father, as the meal was modest fare compared to some feasts Balfruss had seen. Not one single platter was overladen, and the food was simple, roasted beef from the south with local vegetables. The only departure was the unusual spices, which were not from Seveldrom. To Balfruss, who had been eating lamb and goat for years, the beef tasted delicious. He soaked up the thick gravy with crusty flat bread that fell apart in his hands. The sweet greens, sliced potatoes and redshoots were incredibly filling and the spices made his tongue tingle.
They ate in silence, unanimously agreeing without speaking that they wouldn’t interrupt the meal with talk about the war. When everyone had eaten their fill, the silence stretched on until Balfruss’s ears hummed.
“Perhaps,” suggested Talandra when the strain was making everyone fidget. “We could try this again. More calmly this time.” She gestured towards Vannok to start.
“We were following the King’s orders,” said Vannok, “waiting for them to attack and engage with our infantry, while archers and then cavalry cut into their flanks. It was going as planned, until we saw their foot soldiers.”
“You shouldn’t have changed the order,” said Graegor, but Talandra laid a hand on the General’s arm, calming him.
“What was different?” asked Balfruss, preferring they focus on him than each other and get into another argument.
“At first I thought it was some sort of trick. Another illusion like the leviathan, but it wasn’t.” Vannok swallowed hard and shook his head sadly. He hadn’t quite finished eating, but he pushed his plate away. “They were using prisoners, Balfruss. Prisoners from Shael, armed with paltry weapons and driven forward with whips.”
Graegor opened his mouth to speak again, but Talandra held up a hand and the General snapped his mouth shut.
“They were malnourished, filthy, barely able to walk, never mind fight. I think they were sent just to tire our men. We couldn’t attack them. It would have been a massacre. There were men and women too, but you could barely tell them apart, they were so skinny. I couldn’t give the order to kill them,” said Vannok.
“Morrin warriors are men and women. Same as the Vorga,” Graegor said stubbornly.
Vannok’s anger seemed to have evaporated. His response was calm and deeply troubled. “The people of Shael are academics, scholars and sailors for the most. You know that, Graegor.”
It was the first time Balfruss had heard his friend use the old warrior’s name, and he had the impression Vannok didn’t use it often. It also reminded the older man that they were both Generals, despite the difference in age. It took the wind out of Graegor and surprisingly he nodded in agreement.
“What I don’t like, and I hate saying,” Graegor muttered slowly, forcing the words out between his teeth, “is it looks as if we don’t know what we’re doing. As if your father was the only one of us with any knowledge of war. It wasn’t a real victory. They only gained ground because we pulled back, but it’s the first day they’ve not left the battlefield beaten and bloody. It will fire them up.”
“But they won’t try the same tactic again tomorrow,” said Thias and Talandra nodded.
“They can’t.”
Balfruss was missing something. “What happened?”
“It was one of yours, the big lad, that sorted them out,” said Graegor and Balfruss knew they were talking about Finn. “He put up some kind of a wall so the Shael prisoners couldn’t attack us while we… pulled back.” Graegor might have conceded that it had been necessary, but he wouldn’t say it had been a retreat.
“The men say he was like a Titan from the old stories,” said Thias, a note of wonder creeping into his voice. “One man against an army, and he just held them there. They tried pushing the Shael prisoners forward, but none of them could move. Arrows couldn’t go through or over his barrier. I have two separate reports that say he caught fire at one point.” A nerve twitched in Balfruss’s face, but he said nothing to deny it as impossible.
“Once we pulled back he let down the shield, but they just left the Shael prisoners and withdrew,” said Vannok.
“We’ve set up a refugee camp east of the city, in the town of Tormandan. It will be a long march for the refugees, but they can’t stay here,” said Thias.
“Why not?” asked Balfruss.
“The city is stocked for a siege, and we’ve already moved out as many people as we can to the country,” said Talandra. “If the army gets pushed back here, the quartermaster has made preparations. The siege would be over in three days if the refugees stayed. We’d all starve to death.”
“How many?” asked Balfruss, wondering if Thule could hear this conversation. “How many refugees are there from Shael?”
The two Generals looked at each other and Vannok gestured for Graegor to answer.
“Maybe five thousand. Just thrown away like they were gristle and fat.”
They talked a bit more about the war, but eventually they couldn’t ignore what everyone had been carefully avoiding.
“There will be a state funeral,” said Thias in a lull between conversations. “Preparations are being made, but the people already know. We couldn’t stop the news from spreading.”
Balfruss considered asking about when Thias would take the throne but changed his mind. It would happen, but not until King Matthias had been given his final rest in the flames in keeping with the traditions of the Maker.
Graegor and Vannok planned to return to the front line in the morning, while Thias would stay in the city for the time being. Hyram was notably absent, but Vannok waved it away when asked. Unable or unwilling to accept that his father was really dead, Hyram had chosen to stay with the men. There were rumours that Hyram had been fighting and Balfruss thought it very likely.
It was early when Balfruss received a summons to take up his post outside the royal chambers. He suspected they’d not slept the previous night and were feeling utterly drained, physically and emotionally. Even without a draught from the apothecary they would sleep, which also put them at their most vulnerable.
At first Balfruss patrolled up and down the corridors, but soon he became bored and sat for a time, reading a book he’d taken from the palace library. The broad chair left for him was extremely hard and uncomfortable, perhaps to help keep him awake, but a kind servant had left him a selection of plump cushions. He filled the chair and sat on them all to stop his backside from going numb through the long hours of the night. The book was a history of modern religions written by an impartial academic. Normally it would be an incredibly dry and tedious subject filled with names and dates, but the author kept it interesting with wit and humour. Having spent some time in the far east and seeing how far back their religions stretched, Balfruss was keen to discover the roots of the modern faiths in the west that had crept into Seveldrom. Three hundred years ago no one had heard of the Lord and Lady of Light, and yet no one could tell him the origin of the Church of Holy Light. He hated mysteries, and for the first time in months, there was time to investigate.
Something light brushed at the edges of his mind and Balfruss was immediately alert, focusing his will and drawing power from the Source. The book fell to the floor as he stood up, amplifying his senses to identify who approached. A shield of energy crackled and formed around him, a blue shell that made his ears hum. A familiar presence drew closer and even before he saw who it was, Balfruss knew their identity.
The Warlock slowly walked towards him, holding up his hands in surrender. “I only came to talk.”
“What do you want?” asked Balfruss, refusing to lower his shield.
“To say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“For what happened to the King.” Torval shook his head sadly. “I know he was a great man. I didn’t want to do it, but we all have our orders.”
“You’re not sorry at all,” said Balfruss. “I think you enjoyed it, because it was something you’d never done before. Dreamwalking is supposed to be impossible. No one has been able to do it for centuries. I doubt even the Grey Council could’ve managed it.” Balfruss shook his head. “No, you’re proud of what you accomplished. The murder of the King was just an unfortunate by-product of your experiment.”
Torval stared at him with an unreadable expression for a long time. The only sound Balfruss could hear was the rapid beating of his heart. Sweat beaded in his hairline and began to run down the sides of his face, but he ignored it. He ignored everything and focused. He checked his shield and mentally prepared for the fight of his life.
Slowly a grin spread across Torval’s face.
“I told you. We’re two of a kind,” he said with a delighted laugh. “You understand me so well. It was amazing, Balfruss. I’ve achieved so much!”
“We are nothing alike,” said Balfruss in a cold voice.
Torval shook his head, but still wore a smile. Balfruss almost lashed out to wipe the smug grin off his face, but thought better of it. “One day they will be afraid of you too. One day they will ask you to leave, to make it easier for them.”
“They wouldn’t do that. I’m needed here.”
“But for how long?” asked Torval, tipping his head to one side. “Consider this. If you win the war, if you somehow manage to defeat Taikon’s army and me, then what? Do you think they will welcome you into their homes? Ask you to stay and protect them?”
“This is my home. They have no reason to fear me, or send me away.”
“Don’t be stupid. I know you’re smarter than that,” snapped Torval, his mood rapidly switching in the blink of an eye. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of them. The soldiers and Generals. They’re worms. Maggots in a rotting corpse. I could wipe them all out if I wanted. Just like that.” The Warlock slapped his hands together, but it didn’t make a sound. His eyes were feverish, his whole face filled with a desperate hunger.
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