Battlemage

by Stephen Aryan

  It was a twisted idea the likes of which Balfruss had never heard or read about during his time at the Red Tower. The melting rain fell for a few more minutes, scarring the walls and buildings, but because of the shield, the damage was minor and only one warrior died.

  Balfruss could practically feel the Warlock snarling and gnashing his teeth. This was not going to be a battle of wills. The Warlock was finally getting a chance to test all of his most unpleasant ideas and experiments. The single goal of each seemed to be a painful death for him and the other Battlemages. He knew the Warlock didn’t care about the city, or the outcome of the war any more, if he’d even cared in the first place. Now it was personal. He wanted to punish Balfruss for rejecting him, for exposing him to the truth and making him feel small and weak. Being the most formidable Battlemage in hundreds of years, the Warlock would not be used to such feelings.

  The sky turned black and then everything else vanished into a featureless void. Balfruss blinked a few times to make sure his eyes were still open and that he was awake. Waving his hand in front of his eyes made no difference. The cloak of darkness was absolute. Sounds carried as normal and he called out to the other Battlemages, to reassure them as much as himself, even though he could feel their presence through the Link.

  The unending darkness was disorientating and for a few seconds Balfruss thought the ground was moving beneath his feet. His stomach was still pressed against the stone and reaching down he gripped the wall to maintain his balance. The world tilted one way and then the other, as if they were on a ship in the middle of a storm.

  Windmilling one arm slightly he focused his will on the air around him and fed power into a small cyclone. At first nothing happened so he drew more heavily on the Source and for a few seconds he saw spots of daylight in the black.

  Pressure against his ears increased and the world seemed to shift under his feet as if he was experiencing an earthquake. Gritting his teeth against the disorientation he increased the size and speed of the cyclone. Gradually the darkness began to fade in layers, like peeling an onion. As more sunlight crept in, the dizziness started to recede.

  A feral grin crossed Balfruss’s face as he sent cyclones in both directions along the wall, warning his brethren to hold on to something via the Link. Blood, forgotten weapons, loose stone chips and even severed body parts were swept up in the cyclones’ wake until each contained a deadly array of objects. The darkness faded until it was just a small cloud hanging over the wall and then it vanished. Bringing his hands together Balfruss sent the raging cyclones past the city wall, down towards the Splinters. He made sure each had built up a lot of momentum before he suddenly severed the connection. It was good to be on the offensive for a change.

  From what she thought was a safe distance away, Talandra watched the battle rage between the Battlemages and the Warlock. On more than one occasion the spells launched against the city spilled over, exposing her and all the warriors nearby to their effects.

  Nightmares from her childhood that she thought held no power over her any more became real. Horrendous fleshy monsters with gaping mouths and teeth as long as her arms waddled towards her. A winged beast with a woman’s face, bare breasts and a lion’s claws dove towards her out of the sky. Rotting skeletal hands grasped at her ankles as a decaying corpse tried to pull her into the ground. A hundred old memories that she thought were locked away forever resurfaced and were made flesh.

  The terror was so overwhelming she struggled not to claw out her eyes to stop the images. The fear clogged her throat, stifling her breathing, making her heart stutter and beat erratically.

  Sirens called out from just beyond the wall. Their ghostly song flowed around and then into her mind, pulling provocative images to the surface, stirring her loins, connecting with her in a way no man or woman had ever achieved. Desire for Shani made her sweat and she struggled to control her raging urges.

  The Warlock and his Splinters launched an endless stream of attacks that tried to tear down the walls, shatter the minds of the Battlemages, or make them kill themselves. Talandra and those around her were catching only the smallest of ricochets, and already a dozen men had thrown themselves from the walls. One man had cut his own throat just to escape the conjured nightmares.

  Without warning the battle came to an end and Talandra saw all five Battlemages slump against the battlements. Thule collapsed and Darius stumbled to his knees before sitting down heavily. The rest looked utterly drained, their clothes drenched with sweat and their faces drawn and haggard. Even the big smith looked on the verge of collapse.

  “Did you see—” asked Hyram, but their brother cut him off.

  “I don’t want to know,” said Thias. “Whatever it was, keep it to yourself. My own nightmares are company enough.”

  Both of her brothers were badly shaken, their eyes haunted from images locked away inside the deepest corners of the mind.

  On wobbling legs Balfruss approached the Queen, leaning heavily on the wall to keep himself upright. When the Battlemage stumbled, Vannok held him up on one side and he offered a weak smile as thanks.

  “It’s over,” gasped Balfruss. “One of the Splinters is dead. Burned out from being pushed too hard. Another collapsed. I’m not sure if it will live.”

  “Will they attack again today?” asked Talandra.

  Balfruss shook his head. “Not tomorrow either. Maybe not for two days. It will take all of us time to recover.”

  “Get some rest, we’ll talk later.”

  “Someone still needs to keep watch over you tonight,” said Balfruss. “Just in case.”

  Talandra wasn’t sure any of the Battlemages would be of any use but she didn’t argue. Vannok helped his friend down from the wall as the other Battlemages were attended by surgeons. Darius and Thule were carried away on stretchers but the others managed to leave without support.

  Graegor approached, his black armour splattered with gore, and more caught up in his beard. Despite wading into battle on a few occasions to fill a breach, the old General looked no different from this morning. In fact, he looked more invigorated, as if hacking up the enemy gave him strength and restored his youth. He moved like a man twenty years his junior. No one was born a warrior, but stripped of any familial attachments or emotional baggage, Graegor had become what many boys dreamed about. If only they realised what the grizzled General had sacrificed along the way.

  Talandra had merely watched the fighting all day, dressed in armour and sword, standing by doing nothing more than give orders. The blade around her waist felt as heavy as a grown man, but she tried not to show any signs of discomfort.

  “They’re withdrawing,” reported Graegor, unstrapping his shield with what Talandra thought was disappointment. “A good first day.” The General nodded to himself and stumped away, no doubt in search of beer or a fight. Talandra knew she was being unfair to Graegor, but after all that she’d witnessed since morning, she wasn’t feeling in a generous mood.

  “How can he say it was good?” muttered Hyram. “Look at the dead.”

  Talandra had seen men butchered and hacked to pieces in more ways than she thought possible. Childhood daydreams about becoming a surgeon were squashed after seeing countless brightly coloured innards exposed to sunlight and smelling the open bowels of dying men. Blood was spattered and pooled as far as she could see along the wall beside bits of skin, scalp and chunks of meat she couldn’t identify. At least she’d managed to hold on to the contents of her stomach.

  “Look over the wall and look at their dead and dying,” suggested Thias. “This was a victory.”

  The screams of a thousand wounded men still rang in her ears and Talandra knew they would haunt her in the darkest hours of the night. She’d given her agents orders to kill in the past, but had never seen so many dying in one place.

  In a way she was responsible for every death. She might not have swung the sword, but her decisions had led them here. Rationally she knew nothing could have prevented the s
iege, and even surrender would have resulted in some bloodshed, but part of her refused to accept it. A stubborn seed of guilt burned in her belly.

  “We held the city.”

  “But at what cost?” asked Hyram.

  “I’ll find out soon enough,” said Talandra. They would already be counting the dead and wounded. A report that stated the facts and nothing more would be added to the pile on her desk. Numbers, but no names or faces. It was easier to deal with it when she didn’t have to see them die or hear their pleading screams.

  Talandra forced herself to look closely at the broken corpse of a nearby warrior. She fixed every grisly detail in her mind in case she forgot, even for a second, what her decisions cost other people. It would never be her, always others that would suffer in her place. As Queen she was now responsible for every single life in her kingdom. The weight of her responsibilities threatened to crush her.

  “This is only the beginning,” said Talandra. Without looking she could feel the surprised stares of her brothers. “It’s going to get a lot worse. A day of vicious fighting and yet it still ended in defeat for the enemy. Tomorrow they will come back twice as hungry. They want this to be over as quickly as we do. No one wants this to turn into a long siege.”

  As ever Talandra tried to calm the emotional parts of her mind and focus on the war as a whole. It was what her father would have done. He would have looked at today as a step in the right direction, but also assessed what today had cost them. It was the first of many such bloody days, but they could not continue in this way for long.

  It had been important that the men see her standing with them on the first day, but tomorrow she would be elsewhere. The Generals knew what to do better than her, and she would be kept well informed. They would fight the war on the battlefield and she would continue to fight in more subtle ways. After seeing the enemy horde, and despite the reassurances that a siege was their best chance for victory, Talandra knew they were only delaying the inevitable. Now more than ever she was certain that the war would not be won with steel and magic alone. With a surge of energy she hurried from the battlements, eager to get back to work.

  As Talandra had anticipated, the horrors of the day caught up with her as she tried to sleep. A dying man, his throat torn open to the bone, reached towards her beseechingly while a Vorga ripped him open from groin to navel with its claws. Another warrior, one of his arms completely torn off, stumbled around in a daze looking for his missing limb. Over and over, these and other atrocities she’d witnessed ran through her mind in a seemingly endless cycle of blood and death.

  She came awake covered in sweat, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Slowly her fear ebbed away and in its place a void of despair threatened to swallow her whole.

  Slipping out of bed she stripped out of her soggy clothes and used a towel to scrub the sweat from her body. With a rough bar of soap she washed her skin until clean, losing herself in the familiar rhythm while her mind wandered. The others would always be there to offer her counsel on matters of the crown, but it was times like this during the longest hour of the night that she wished her bed wasn’t empty.

  Dressing in fresh clothes she tied her hair into a loose plait and stepped into the corridor. At the far end of the hallway a figure rose from its chair and came towards her.

  “Is everything all right, your Majesty?” asked Eloise.

  “Fine, thank you,” she said but then let the fake smile slide away. “Actually no, I’m a long distance from being fine.”

  “Nightmares or worry keeping you awake?”

  “A little of both,” said Talandra with a wry smile. “I think some air might help me sleep. Will you walk with me?”

  “Of course,” said Eloise. As they set off down the long corridors Talandra glanced at Eloise’s tattoo, wondering how long it must have taken to ink. The design looked simple, but being so close allowed her to see complex weaves and knots hidden in the script.

  “It didn’t hurt,” said Eloise without looking around. “I drank a hideous-tasting brew that numbed my face.”

  “When did you leave Seveldrom?” asked Talandra. Although her spies had already pieced together some of the information it was always better to hear it first-hand.

  “Like many students at the Red Tower, once my training was complete I felt the call of the road. We saw so little of Shael during our time there, and I wanted to see more. It’s a beautiful place. At least it was,” said Eloise, a frown briefly creasing her brow. They rounded another corner and Talandra pushed open a door that led outside. Judging by the colour of the sky, dawn looked to be several hours away. A chill in the air made goose bumps rise on the flesh of her arms, but Eloise seemed unaffected by the cold. They descended several flights of stairs to the inner courtyards and started a circuit of the palace grounds.

  “Where did you go after that?”

  “All over the west. The Drassi welcomed me into their homes, but I always felt they were keeping secrets. Hiding a part of themselves from me because I was an outsider.”

  “They’re a very private people,” agreed Talandra. “I’ve known one of their ambassadors since I was a girl, but even now, I don’t feel especially close to her.”

  “Have you ever visited the desert kingdoms, Majesty?”

  “Please, call me Tala. And no, I’ve never travelled that far east.”

  Eloise paused beside a green bush with red berries that had started to flower. She bent down to inspect one of the small white flowers. After living here all her life Talandra thought she should know the name of it, but didn’t.

  “You wouldn’t think anything this green would grow there, because it’s so arid. When you first arrive, the cities look barren and dull. High stone walls, heavy squat buildings with few markings on the outside, but they’ve learned from centuries of experience. A bad sandstorm will strip the flesh from a man in seconds, so you can imagine what it will do to a city without walls. Once they trust you, and let you into their homes, it’s very different to Drassia. They’re a warm and generous people, and many have gardens, lush oases in the middle of the desert.”

  “Was it hard? Leaving Seveldrom for the desert?”

  Eloise left the flower and they resumed their walk. “May I ask you a question first, Tala?”

  “Of course.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  The question caught Talandra by surprise and immediately her thoughts turned to Shani. She took a deep breath, tried to answer but just nodded instead.

  “My father died years ago in an accident when I was twelve, but he lived long enough to see me start my training at the Red Tower. My mother blamed a Morrin for his death, although he was innocent. She became bitter and distrustful of foreigners. Once I’d explored the west, I came home to Seveldrom to see my family. I started to tell her about all the wonders I’d seen, but she didn’t care. She had no interest.”

  They came to a small garden and sat down on a bench surrounded on all sides by lush grass, blooming flowers and jasmine vines. The air hummed with the sound of insects and Talandra’s nose filled with a rich floral perfume that bordered on being overpowering.

  “That must have been upsetting.”

  Eloise shrugged and her expression remained neutral. “At the time, but now I’m just disappointed. When I travelled to the desert I found a new family who were loving, generous and kind. Then I met a wonderful man who made me feel special and beautiful. I sent my mother a letter when he proposed and to my surprise I received one in return.”

  Despite Eloise’s calm expression, Talandra’s instinct told her the story didn’t end well.

  “She disowned me, told me she had no daughter; that I’d shamed her and my father would be cursing me from his grave.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

  Eloise smiled and gave her hand a brief squeeze. “It’s all right. You didn’t know. So, as much as I love Seveldrom, the green spaces, the music and the people, it was actuall
y very easy to leave. I hadn’t been back, until now.”

  “Because my father asked King Usermeses for aid.”

  “What about you? Now that you’re Queen, will you be able to travel?”

  It wasn’t something that she’d thought much about. The war seemed to be consuming all of her waking, and sleeping, thoughts. As Queen she would occasionally be required to go on a state visit, but she would never be free to simply ride out on a whim by herself.

  “You should think of the future,” said Eloise. “Think about tomorrow beyond the war. It will help with the nightmares.”

  “This isn’t your first war?”

  Eloise shook her head. “What started out as small raids on merchant caravans in the desert turned into something else. Something organised and dangerous. It was Balfruss who helped us shatter the enemy. We killed many men. I still see their faces, but they don’t haunt me like they used to.”

  “What will you do after the war?” said Talandra, not wanting to be too negative. She tried to keep in mind everyone’s reassurances about the siege being their best option for victory. “Settle down and have children?”

  “We’ve talked about it, and one day we will, but not yet. There’s still so much to see, so many places to explore. Now is the time, before I’ve grey hair and my bones ache in the cold.”

  “That sounds nice,” said Talandra getting up, and they resumed their walk, arm in arm. “If I ever make it as far as the desert, I’ll come visit you.”

  “I would be insulted if you didn’t call on us,” said Eloise. “Well, my husband would be, although he’d never show it. Of course, behind closed doors, I’d hear all about it for days.”