“What?”
“Were you listening to a single word I said?” asked the boy.
“No, and I’ve more interest in listening to a donkey fart all day,” said Vargus. The Lord of Light tried to appeal to Nethun, but the old sailor just laughed in his face.
“Vargus, please,” said the chimney sweep, but he ignored the girl.
“What do you want, boy?”
“In a rush, are we? Keen to get back to building an army of followers?” asked the Lord of Light.
“We all do what we need to in order to survive,” said Vargus. The Lord of Light screwed up his face in confusion, missing the point, but a few of the others nodded in understanding. The youngest and the new faces around the table looked equally puzzled. They would learn in time or perish.
“That’s why I asked everyone here,” said the boy, trying to include them all with his toothy smile. “To see if we can work together and direct the affairs of our followers, not be subject to their whims. We all want to exist for as long as possible.”
Vargus sneered, but the Blessed Mother spoke before he could respond. “We have not done that in a long time and it is forbidden.”
All eyes turned to the empty seat at the head of the table. It was the last edict the Maker had passed down before disappearing. Many believed him dead, but only Vargus knew the truth.
The Lord of Light licked his lips carefully before speaking. “Maybe it’s time we changed that… tradition.”
“It’s not a tradition,” said Summer, her rich voice filling the room with its vibrant warmth. Her time was approaching. She was blossoming and growing stronger by the day.
“Who heard him give the order? Were any of you present at the time?” asked the Lord of Light.
He looked up and down the table, but no one chose to answer. Vargus said nothing, pretending that he’d also been told about it from someone else.
“If you’re keen to face oblivion by interfering, then go ahead. I won’t stop you,” said Kai from halfway down the table. “For all we know, you’ve been doing it already.”
“I had nothing to do with your little mishap,” said the Lord of Light.
“You fucking child!” screamed Kai, the whole room shuddering under the swell of his monstrous voice. “You’re nothing but an abortion. You’re not even supposed to exist!”
The Lord of Light didn’t flinch at the insult. He calmly rose to his feet and a sneering grin slowly spread across his face. Vargus wanted nothing more than to slap it off, but it wasn’t his place to interfere. As Kai realised what he’d done, his anger faded and was replaced by a look of wary caution. To his credit, he didn’t sit down but stood his ground. Everyone knew his power was fading while the Lord of Light’s was growing exponentially. It wouldn’t even be worth calling it a fight if the two of them clashed.
“I see nothing has changed,” said the Blessed Mother. As ever she was the voice of reason. She gestured at them both and eventually they sat down, although the Lord of Light was still grinning like an idiot. “If you choose to break with what has been laid down, then the risk will be yours and yours alone. You will not coerce any of us into sharing your punishment.” Her voice brooked no further argument, and although he looked as if he wanted to push it further, the Lord of Light remained silent. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
“Actually there is,” said Winter. Her voice was crisp and edged with a hint of anger that made Vargus’s ears hum. “These Battlemages, as they name themselves. They disturb me.” Many people around the table made sounds of agreement. “All of you must have felt it. The power some of them can wield is like nothing I’ve seen in a long time. They are capable of disrupting the natural order of so many things.”
“A few of them are more powerful than some of us,” complained a new face from further down the table. He sounded scared, and rightly so. “How is this possible?”
“One of them, the Warlock, has delved deeply into the past. He unearthed something that came from beyond the Veil,” Nethun said.
“But who told him where to look for it?” asked Winter, the air cracking and frosting in front of her pale blue lips. “Such items were buried deep and the knowledge lost to all mortals.”
“And so we return to pointing fingers,” said the Blessed Mother with a sigh.
“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” said Vargus. “Other Sorcerers were just as powerful once.”
“They are lost without their teachers. Their numbers dwindle and many die as children before they come into their power,” said the Blessed Mother with regret. “The problem will attend to itself. Their star is waning.”
“True, but I’m more interested in who taught the one called the Warlock? If it wasn’t one of us, then who guided this man?” asked Winter.
No one had an answer. Glancing around, Vargus saw many worried faces. Those that worked in the shadows would look for answers in their own way, but he had an idea of his own about where to start. The camp was full of stories about the Warlock, but all of it was third-hand information. He needed to get closer to the truth. One day the Warlock would be defeated, either during the span of this war or from old age, but after he was gone they needed to make sure the knowledge and artefacts he had uncovered stayed buried.
There was one other question that no one had asked, which plagued the remaining Battlemages. Why had their teachers abandoned the Red Tower? Looking around the table Vargus wondered if someone here had manipulated the Grey Council, and if so, for what reason?
With no answers, and little else to discuss, they began to disperse. There would not be a grand alliance as the Lord of Light had hoped. The time of ruling over their followers was gone and would not return, no matter how much some might wish it. For good or ill, the future of mankind was their own to make, and in the long and endless struggle, some of those around this table would die. No one was eternal.
CHAPTER 28
The roar of the crowd was still ringing in Talandra’s ears as she walked along the empty corridors to her chambers. Thousands had turned out to see her ride through the streets after the coronation. With her father’s body turned to ash and carried away on the wind, the people had expected a spectacle, and from the noise they’d not been disappointed. Talandra had witnessed the sight of the armies spread out on the battlefield through a spyglass, but this was different. A sea of faces close enough to touch, all of them screaming for her attention, was a different experience. It made her more aware of how many people were relying on her decisions to be the right ones. The mountain felt particularly heavy today.
Lost in thought Talandra got her long cloak caught between her legs, nearly tripping her. Thankfully there was no one around to see their new Queen stumble and right herself against a wall. When she nearly tripped a second time Talandra realised King Taikon wouldn’t need to send assassins. She was more likely to die from falling and breaking her neck because of a stupid ceremonial cloak. Hers would be the shortest reign in the annals of Seveldrom, and the only note left to her in the history books would be in relation to a moth-bitten garment.
As she entered her room Talandra yanked it off and hurled it across the bed. Staring at her reflection she still thought she looked like an idiot, despite the compliments she’d received during and after the ceremony. Her silver gown was very tight, particularly across the bust where the seamstress had done her best to show off Talandra’s limited assets. She was convinced that if she sat down too quickly it would split across her arse. The dress was soft and it did feel nice against her skin, but it was so thin it held no real warmth. The frilly collar and cuffs would also make it impossible to eat without dipping them in her food. The dress had apparently been made by the finest tailor in the city.
With a snort Talandra stripped and threw all of the clothes across the room. Getting rid of the stinking cloak wasn’t the only tradition she was going to change now that she sat on the throne. Her son or daughter would not be forced to wear
it when they eventually took over.
The thought made Talandra pause and sit down heavily on the end of the bed. She’d not been crowned more than an hour and was already making plans about how to change the kingdom. A family. Normally it was the last thing on her mind, but right now it seemed more important than ever. Her thoughts drifted to Shani and that took her down a path she didn’t want to explore.
After slipping into clothes that were more comfortable and much warmer, Talandra made her way to the War Room where her Generals and advisors would be waiting. Vannok Lore had been present for the coronation, but he was waiting with fast horses to return to the front line. Everyone stood up as she entered the room, even Graegor, but Talandra waved at them to sit. Her father had never been one to stand on ceremony in private and there were many of his traditions she intended to honour.
“What’s the latest?”
“No movement. They’ve had scouts out, same as us, but showed no signs of an attack,” said Wolfe. His only concession to the coronation was a new green cloak on top of his leathers. Talandra noticed he’d enough common sense to wear a cloak that ended at the waist. No chance of him tripping over it in a hurry. As ever Wolfe was armed with daggers and a short sword, even in the presence of his Queen. An empty quiver sat on his opposite hip and his unstrung longbow rested in a corner of the room.
“Keep me posted. I’ll send orders shortly,” said Talandra. Wolfe picked up his bow and went out the door. By the time he and Vannok reached the front line the decision would have been made and orders waiting, sent via pigeon or raven. “Is this because of what happened with Ecko?” asked Talandra, turning towards Balfruss.
“I think so,” said the Battlemage. He seemed withdrawn, no doubt mourning the loss of his friend, but as he spoke the distant look faded from his eyes. “Ecko might have been defeated, but not before he nearly killed the Warlock.”
“I’m tempted to suggest withdrawing your protection at the palace,” said Talandra but she quickly held up a hand before anyone could protest. “But I suspect you would counsel against it.”
“The Warlock is unpredictable, more so than Taikon. It’s unlikely he’ll try to kill you in the same way as your father, but the risk, however small, isn’t acceptable,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. Graegor grunted in agreement, which was practically a compliment.
“Can you defend the army with one less Battlemage?”
“I don’t know.” It was a brutally honest answer and not the one Talandra had been hoping for. She expected Graegor to make a comment or argue with Balfruss, but for once the grizzled General remained quiet. She doubted he’d developed any form of subtlety, but perhaps he was not a stranger to loss and could see Balfruss was in pain.
“We need to discuss what happened yesterday,” said Hyram, ever the pessimist, but she knew there was a reason their father had listened to counsel from everyone. He always wanted to hear all of the options before making a decision, not just the ones he liked.
“Tell me,” said Talandra, getting comfortable.
“Despite our sacrifices, we were nearly defeated. Taikon’s numbers are starting to tell.” It was a bold statement and again she expected Graegor to argue, but the old General said nothing. Eventually he met Talandra’s stare and slowly inclined his head.
“We’ve done everything we can,” said the old General. “Used every trick, fold of the land and scrap of local knowledge to our advantage. It’s helped, but now we’re on the plains and there’s nothing between the armies. They’ve also got nothing to plunder to slow them down. All the villages between us were abandoned weeks ago, so there are no distractions.”
“What would you advise?” asked Talandra, gesturing at everyone to offer their opinion.
“Father created the staging points for this moment,” said Thias. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to it, but it seems inevitable. We should pull back.”
“He’s right,” said Graegor, but Talandra could see the sour twist to the old General’s mouth. It probably sounded a lot like running away to him. “The city is our next line of defence.”
“It’s our last line of defence,” Hyram reminded them.
“And what would happen if we dug in and fought? What would our chances be?” asked Talandra.
“You’re not seriously considering it?” asked Hyram, aghast.
“It would be brutal, bloody and horrendous,” said Thias. “Our men would fight bravely, and while greater discipline gives us the edge, it wouldn’t be enough. They’d fight to the last man, because they believe in us. But eventually we would be defeated.”
“And your assessment?” Talandra said to Balfruss.
The Battlemage looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon. “I don’t disagree with anything that’s been said.”
“But?”
“Although the city’s defences are strong against traditional weapons, there is a greater risk of damage from magic. The Splinters don’t need to target me or the other Battlemages. They can crack the gates with lightning, or sap the stones, or a hundred other tricks to bring down the walls in a short amount of time. On the other hand, we wouldn’t need to split our focus being in two places at once.”
“And what are the risks of a siege?”
“The usual,” said Thias. “Disease from so many people living together in a confined space. And if the siege went on longer than we’ve prepared for, food and water will become an issue. But, the western army will face the same problems. They’ve already picked the land clean like locusts, scouring it for every drop of food and fuel. The longer it goes on, the more desperate they will become.”
“We’ve been lucky so far. There’s been very little of the usual health problems in the camp,” said Hyram. His tone told Talandra he didn’t expect their good fortune to last.
“How long would it take the army to reach the city if we started a staged withdrawal?” asked Talandra.
“Five days,” said Graegor without hesitation.
“One final question. If we pull back into the city, can we win?”
No one rushed to answer her question this time. Their odds were much better because their defences were strong, but the city had never been besieged by such a large army before. The others looked to the most experienced in the room for an answer. Graegor thought on it for a while before finally answering.
“I don’t know.”
The others probably expected him to say something more, but she knew with so many elements to consider it was almost impossible to judge. If the western army hadn’t had any Battlemages of their own then it would be a different story. If Gunder’s plans to destabilise the west were successful and the alliance broke apart, then it would be a different situation. A sudden drought, or bout of disease in the enemy camp, could change it again. There were too many factors to predict what might happen. All that they could do was try to limit the damage and prepare for the worst.
“Send the order to the front. Pull the army back into the city,” said Talandra. “We’ll hold the line here.”
After the order was given they discussed other details that needed finalising, but the important decision had been made. Talandra just hoped it was the right one.
Almost two hours later she retired to her chambers, her head whirling with numbers and details about the city and army.
“You should move into the King’s chambers,” said Shani. Talandra wasn’t surprised to see her. In fact, she’d been expecting her for some time. For once she was glad to see Shani fully dressed. She sat perched on the end of the bed, a glass of wine held loosely in one hand.
“I will, but not yet. His ash is still on the wind,” said Talandra, fetching a glass for herself. A five-year-old white from Shael. Although common in the past it was perhaps one of the last they’d see in many years. Perhaps ever. There were stories about the Vorga burning vineyards. Everything changed. She needed to prepare not only herself for the future but also her own country.
Shani raised her glass in a
toast before taking a sip. “To your health, Majesty.”
“I didn’t see you at the ceremony,” said Talandra, making small talk and delaying the inevitable.
“I was there.” Shani put down her glass and crossed the room. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see me?”
Talandra forced a smile. “Yes, of course I am.”
Shani raised an eyebrow, but still kissed her. “It doesn’t seem that way.” Talandra moved away and went to stand by the window. “What’s wrong?”
Talandra’s laugh was bitter. “There’s a long list.”
“I meant with you.”
“I have a lot on my mind. There’s much I need to deal with.”
“But you’re not on your own,” said Shani, moving to her again and hugging Talandra from behind. Talandra took comfort from the feeling of Shani’s arms around her and forgot everything for a moment. “Now that you’re Queen, you can do whatever you want. Change the rules.”
“I’m just one person. I can’t do everything by myself.”
“I’m here to help you, however I can. We all are. You know that.”
Talandra turned around to face Shani, still within the comforting circle of her arms. “Do you really mean that? Would you do anything to help me? To help Seveldrom?”
“Of course I would,” said Shani, her gaze never wavering. “It’s my home.”
“There’s so much to do. More than I ever realised.”
“What are you saying?”
“I can’t be selfish and think only of myself. Not even for a moment.”
“Answer the question,” pressed Shani.
Talandra moved to the far side of the room before speaking. “I cannot be Queen and head of intelligence. You will run the network for me.”
A big smile started to creep across Shani’s face, but then froze halfway. A heavy silence settled on the room, stretching out between them. “What about us?” she asked. Talandra’s silence spoke volumes.
Talandra started to turn away but Shani crossed the room and slapped her hard across the face. Talandra just stared and said nothing.
Battlemage Page 24