by Cas Peace
“As I am sure you know, Artesans of Master level and above can direct such crossings to open in a specific area, provided they are familiar with the region they wish to travel. But I want to ride through Marik’s province before we arrive at his mansion, so we will not direct this structure.
“This is how we proceed. Using the element of Water, Bulldog and Robin will form a portway, anchoring each edge of the construct to the river bank. Their strength in the structure will minimize any leakage of power that could occur before it is fully contained. Once they are done, I want you to cap the power. Then I will push the force out into the substrate and this will form the tunnel. Do you see?”
“I think so,” said Taran, nervous and excited. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself in front of the Major.
He could feel both Bull and Robin accessing their metaforce and watched carefully as two columns of power appeared in the air directly over the stream bed. Each bore the unique impression of its creator’s psyche, and twined within was the unmistakable signature of Water. Smoothly, the walls of energy grew taller until two pillars stood about ten feet apart, holding between them the characteristic gray shimmer of a portway.
Sullyan’s voice came dreamily to Taran. “Now, Journeyman, fit your psyche to the edges of the others’ and cap the power.”
Hesitantly, Taran reached out and overlaid his glowing pattern across the two pillars, being careful to incorporate the element of Water within his working. He had never used the slippery element like this before but the mesh of psyche was remarkably easy, and he felt a thrill as he capped off the structure.
“Very good,” murmured Sullyan, “you should have more confidence in your abilities. Now, I will add my power to yours.”
He saw another, incredibly complex pattern superimpose itself across the entire structure. All four blended seamlessly together. Taran felt a tremendous shock of power and realized that if he was the one controlling such forces, he could do almost anything. He felt momentarily giddy, and swayed on his feet.
“Steady,” Sullyan warned and he shook his head, taking himself in hand. “Better,” she said. “Now follow me as I push the power back, forcing it through the substrate.”
He did so, amazed by how easy it was. Very quickly, the energy thinned at the retreating end and he could see it passing through the Veils. Soon, it opened out like a flower, and there was their entrance to the Fifth Realm.
“Now anchor the power at the Andaryan end, and when we return through the tunnel, it will stand alone.”
Carefully, Taran did so and when he was done, he saw a tunnel of pearly light standing firm, contained and shimmering in the sunlight.
“Did I really help construct that?”
Sullyan laughed with the simple pleasure of helping the development of powers long denied the guidance of an experienced hand.
“Well done,” admired Robin. “My own first effort wasn’t nearly that strong.”
Sullyan smiled at her captain. “You should watch out, my friend. You may have competition here one day.”
Touched by their approval, Taran experienced a rush of pride that he had not felt since becoming a Journeyman.
One by one, they led their horses through the tunnel, all four beasts giving it a wary eye. Taran knew his own gelding would never have gone through and was glad of the trained stallion.
Sullyan asked him to come through last and told him how to dismantle the structure as he did so. He kept the pattern-meld together as she had told him, and under her guidance disassembled it into its four component parts, learning each psyche intimately. He felt drained, but his hard work earned him a congratulatory slap on the back from Bull.
Remounting, they rode on. The land around them was scrubby, the dry earth turning under the horses’ hooves. There were low, dark hills to the north before them and a nondescript forest of fir behind. The Major told him its name was Tarla Brake. Apart from this, the land was barren and colorless, and uninhabited as far as Taran could tell.
Riding in silence, all four used their metasenses to search the surrounding land. Sullyan wore a slight frown; both Bull and Robin looked uneasy. Eventually, the Major drew rein and sat quietly, staring around her. The others waited patiently. Taran threw out his own senses again but could detect nothing.
“Nothing indeed, Taran, and that is very wrong.” Sullyan spoke softly, catching Taran off guard. He was amazed she could sense his working. “I can detect no signs of life at all. The Count’s mansion is among those hills to the north and there are settlements scattered throughout his lands. As you have sensed, they are empty. But why?”
Chapter Nineteen
They didn’t see a single soul all morning. The three villages they passed through were abandoned and silent. At midday they made a short stop to rest the horses and eat a light meal. The eerie silence continued throughout the day. As the light began to fade, they came upon a small pond sheltered by a copse of scrubby trees.
Sullyan halted Mandias and allowed him to drop his muzzle to the water. She glanced at her companions.
“We will camp here, I think. Once we are settled I will make a thorough sweep of the area.”
They dismounted and saw to their horses’ comforts. Taran was unsurprised when Sullyan took her share of the camp duties. He helped her and Robin organize the camp and site the latrine, while Bull set up the fire. The welcome aroma of fellan soon pervaded the evening air.
Breaking out their trail rations, they gathered around the cheerful blaze. Despite the warmth of the Andaryan day, the evening quickly grew chilly. They padded the ground with their thick cloaks and rested their backs against their saddles. Bull’s rich fellan washed down a meal of meat, bread and cheese, while the untethered horses chewed contentedly on a ration of grain, the rhythmic sound of their jaws comforting their riders in the dusk.
Once the meal was over, Sullyan sent out her senses to search the area for its inhabitants. Taran could see that she was puzzled when she found no signs of life nearer than the Count’s mansion. Despite the area’s apparent desertion, she allocated watches throughout the night. Taran hesitantly offered to take first watch and was gratified when Sullyan accepted.
He settled himself on a large rock from where he could see the campsite as well as the surrounding land and rested his sword across his knees. Bull and Robin saw to the fire, checked the horses, and then rolled themselves in their cloaks. Using saddles as pillows, they fell asleep with the ease of men long used to life on the trail. Sullyan, however, seemed unwilling to rest yet.
She left the glow of the banked fire and came to sit beside Taran. She was so close that he could just feel her arm touching his. Strangely, this barest of contacts sent a shiver through his body that he was hard-pressed to explain.
She loosened her tawny hair and it rippled over her shoulders and back like a river. As she stared out over the twilit land, Taran covertly studied her face. She must have sensed his scrutiny, for she glanced at him before looking down at her hands, which were clasped about her knee. She seemed uncomfortable and this disturbed him; he had grown used to her confident ways. He began to worry, fearing she had some bad news for him. Perhaps something to do with his talents that meant he wouldn’t be able to progress as far as he hoped.
He was so engrossed by this thought that when she did finally speak, she caught him off-balance.
“Taran, I have been waiting for a chance to speak with you alone. I fear I must make you an apology.”
He stared in surprise. “An apology? Whatever for?”
She took a small breath. “Do you recall me saying, when first we met, that I knew who your father was?”
Taran nodded. He wasn’t likely to forget it.
She hesitated, as if unsure how to proceed.
“I knew him because he once came to the Manor with a request. Well, a favor. It must have been … oh, three years ago now.”
Taran’s eyes widened, he hadn’t expected this. “My father came to ask you a
favor?”
“Oh, not me personally. But he had heard there were Artesans at the Manor, and he thought there might be training and guidance available. He wanted to know if he could share it.”
“What? My father came asking for tutoring?”
Taran couldn’t believe it. It was hard and hurtful enough to learn that his father had known about the Artesans at the Manor—including this beautiful and powerful young woman—yet had denied his son the knowledge. But to be told that Amanus, his overbearing and disdainful sire, had actually gone cap-in-hand to strangers to request tutoring stretched Taran’s credulity to its limits. His father had never asked for anything in his life.
Sullyan looked up at him and he was arrested by something in her eyes. “He was not asking for himself,” she murmured.
His whole body went cold. He just couldn’t take this in. It was inconceivable that his supremely self-confident father, who had always considered himself the ultimate authority, would have asked a stranger to train his son. Yet slowly, a glimmer of understanding dawned and he shivered. He thought he knew where this was heading.
He made himself say, “So what happened? I presume he was refused.”
The Major looked away, out into the night, her fingers twisting at the ring on her right hand. “Amanus was an arrogant man. He was … vainly proud of his rank and achievements, and not at all pleased to be in a situation where he was forced to ask for help.”
Although the words made sense to Taran, her meaning was unclear. “Why was he forced to ask for help?”
Sullyan turned her gaze on him. Once again he felt a chill shock at the touch of those glorious eyes. She lowered them, as if aware of their effect. Taran could feel her whole body trembling.
She whispered, “He did it, Taran, because he knew he was dying.”
He sucked in a breath. “He knew?”
This was too much. He stood and turned away. Her revelation, coupled with her closeness, was just too much. He hadn’t wanted to admit the irresistible effect she was having on him, but to feel her so near and see her so vulnerable was more than he could take. Why she was quite so disturbed by what she was telling him he didn’t know, unless she could guess how deeply it would touch him.
“You loved him very much,” she said.
“I owe him everything I am.” He didn’t turn around. “But I was never good enough for him. I worked hard and studied harder, but he was always telling me I should be doing better, progressing farther, learning faster. Whatever I did, it was never enough. And now I know that what I did learn was flawed. When I think of the years I spent struggling to improve on my own, desperate to seek out those who could help me, and never finding them. All that striving for knowledge and risking my neck looking for it. Even planning to challenge a demon, damn it, because I thought that was the only way I stood any chance of advancement. And all that time, help was nearby. I could have been spared all of that if he had just told me about you.”
Frustration and resentment colored Taran’s voice. He suddenly swung back on her, seeing concern reflected plainly in the dark pools of her eyes. “And now you tell me he came to you because he knew he was dying?” He shook his head. “I want to know exactly what happened.”
Sullyan sighed and her eyes lost focus, remembering that time three years ago.
“It was unfortunate, Taran, that when your father arrived, his arrogance led him to insist on an interview with General Blaine. This did not help his cause. Major Anton, in whose company I served at the time, was also a Master Artesan and a gentler soul than Mathias. He may well have given your father’s request a more sympathetic hearing. However, Amanus would speak with no one but the General. Mathias Blaine is a blunt man and uncompromising, he would have spared no thought for your father’s problems. So I am sorry to say that Amanus received the treatment his pride deserved. Mathias sent him packing.”
She paused, glancing at Taran. He stood a little apart from her, his arms crossed over his chest, his face set. He didn’t speak and she looked down at her hands again.
“I came by Amanus as he was leaving, and I could see his pain and anger. I asked him what the problem was and he told me all about you. He told me how proud he was of you and how hard you worked. He said he knew he only had a short time left to live, and spoke of his anguish at not being able to bring out your full potential.” Her golden eyes held Taran’s once more as she said, “He told me how much he loved you.”
Taran felt his eyes sting. His legs suddenly refused to hold him and he sat heavily on a rock across from her, burying his face in his hands.
After a few moments he said huskily, “He never told me. He never once said he was proud—or even pleased, damn it. He certainly never, ever, said that he loved me.”
“Well he did, Taran, very much. I could see it in his heart. But I could also see the pain it cost him to tell me, for he was not comfortable with strong emotions. He knew he had not taught you well. He wanted you to continue learning after he was gone because there were gaps in your knowledge and he knew you needed guidance. He made me promise to try to change the General’s mind about accepting you at the Manor. If I could not, then he asked me to help you myself.”
Taran’s head came up like a hound scenting prey. “Are you saying he wanted me to enter the military?”
She smiled sadly. “No, my friend, and that was the heart of the problem. He wanted the training but not the commitment, which is why General Blaine would have none of it. I did keep my word to your father. I tried hard to persuade Mathias, but he became angry. He forbade me to speak to your father again or have anything more to do with him. In my position at that time, I had no choice but to obey. I am sorry for it.”
He shook his head, how could he blame her?
“I understand. You have nothing to apologize for.”
She leaned forward. “But I do, Taran, because I too know how hard it is to have no mentor. Like you, I spent my early years struggling alone with my power. Once I knew about you, I wanted to help you, but I could not disobey the General. I heard nothing more from your father and as time went by, I confess my promise slipped to the back of my mind. But I never forgot it entirely. Forbidden to go myself, I eventually sent Robin to your village, although this was long after Amanus’ visit. I feared he had died and you had moved away. I could not risk Robin asking for you by name so I instructed him to speak to one of the elders, plant the suggestion that if ever you were in serious trouble, there was someone you could turn to. It was all I could do without angering the General.”
Taran’s mouth was a hard line and he sat with his head bowed, thinking of what might have been.
“Do not think too badly of Mathias, Taran. Our position in the King’s forces is tenuous and he rightly fears the malcontents at court. Any hint of disobedience on my part would have elicited a swift reprisal, and I valued my position far too much to risk it. But perhaps I could have tried harder, found a way around the General’s veto. If I had, perhaps you would never have been forced to fight and kill Jaskin.”
Taran’s tone was bitter. “And we wouldn’t be in the middle of a demon invasion?”
She shrugged, spreading her hands against his pain. “We do not know for certain that the invasion is the result of your actions. Do not blame yourself until we know the facts.”
He remained unconvinced. “Is that why you brought me with you, why you’ve been so good to me? Because you feel guilty about your promise to my father?”
“Partly. And partly because Amanus was right. You have great potential and I do not like to see such talent go to waste.”
He colored at this praise even as a sudden thought struck him. “Does the General know who I am?”
She smiled. “He has not said so. And I have not told him.”
She rose and came to him, laying her hand on his arm. “Try not to worry, Taran. I am sure we will get to the bottom of this once we have spoken with Marik. He will know who is behind the invasion and the reasons for it. But y
ou must not forget that Jaskin and his retinue were also at fault for breaking the codes and ignoring the contract, so we would have some bargaining power, at least.
“Now, I am going to rest. Contact Cal before you finish your watch and make sure you rouse Robin at the appointed time. Despite his training, my captain could sleep for his country, given half a chance.”
Nodding distractedly, Taran watched her cross to her cloak by the fire. She cast him one last thoughtful glance before wrapping herself in its heavy folds and lying down to sleep.
He turned back to staring out at the night and his thoughts were disturbed and chaotic.
+ + + + +
In the wintry pre-dawn gloom, Commander Heron surveyed his men. He was pleased with them so far; they had obeyed his orders to the letter, ignoring the obvious temptations of the sacked towns. They knew they would get their due reward—Heron was known for his fairness and generosity in the face of a job well done.
Heron was an Adept-elite Artesan. He understood the value of discipline to the military and the metaphysical realm. He also knew the value of reward and although he was no soft touch—any man under his command who thought otherwise soon learned his mistake—he only used harsh methods when they were warranted. His men respected and understood him.
His eyes slanted sideways, fixing on his fellow commander who was poring over a pile of booty on the ground. Heron’s lip curled and he allowed himself a brief snort of disgust.
He knew Verris thought himself safe in his position as the Duke’s man, for he never failed to remind Heron of it. As if that counted for anything in a situation such as this, thought Heron sourly. Their forces were equal here in Albia, both dependent on each other for their safety and success.
Verris, however, was a greedy man, concerned only for his own welfare. He ruled his men harshly, permitting them no independent thought. Heron considered this a mistake. Men who were not afraid to think for themselves were often more successful in unexpected situations. Those who were loyal to their commander were much more likely to work together and help each other. Verris’ men, though, whenever they broke free of his draconian grip, could be trusted only to act in their own interests and leave their commander to suffer the consequences. Heron was very sure Verris would come unglued before much longer.