Warlord

by Katy Winter

  "It's up to us on Yarilo to counter-balance it, Venerable One. That's our primary function, isn't it?"

  "Can we do that again, Autoc?" Bene asked softly. "Have we so regained our strength? And what if Malekim reasserts himself?"

  "We're told he's broken, Old One."

  "For how long will he remain so? He's alive. I don't believe he's broken." Autoc looked neither comfortable nor assured. "He could be active and threatening, couldn't he?"

  "What are you trying to tell me, Venerable One?"

  "The balance is so fragile. Never become complacent."

  "You never have been, Old One." Autoc saw the sudden twist to Bene's lips at that, before the Archmage turned quickly away.

  "Always be vigilant, Autoc, and especially so on Ambros. Expect the unusual and never be surprised. Promise me this."

  Autoc looked very serious. He didn't look at Bene. Bene gave an understanding "ah" as he surveyed the younger mage, made no further comment and moved on.

  Autoc looked after him a little anxiously, than shrugged his shoulders, saying quietly, "I can promise within the limits of my instructions, Master."

  He saw Bene nod and thought he understood Bene's cryptic comment only too well. It worried him. Both men stood silently, ankle deep in nodding flowers. Bene's eyes seemed to look far, far away.

  "Do you remember the prophecy?" he asked abruptly. He didn't move and his eyes still looked unfocused. Autoc continued to stare at the flowers nodding in the sun.

  "We all remember it," he said finally. "Why do you ask me that?" Again there was that long pause, but this time Autoc gave the older man a very long, penetrating stare.

  "How many really do remember exactly what Ochleos said?" came the soft, deep voice. "It was thousands of Ambros cycles ago and the chroniclers didn't write it down immediately. Do we all have such perfect memories that we can recall what we were told?"

  "All memories are fallible," agreed Autoc calmly, stroking his long, silky beard reflectively. "You're teaching me again, Master. What troubles you about fallible minds?"

  "Have we interpreted correctly? Do we recognise omens as we should? Should the teaching be adjusted? These are things you should think on, young mage. They could be of singular importance in cycles to come." Bene's voice dropped very low. He was caught by a shiver that shook him. "Do we heed premonitions?" he whispered. His voice faded as he added quietly, "Always listen to your essence, Autoc. Let that be a guide, along with your knowledge."

  Autoc nodded slowly. His eyes never left the Archmage's face. A moment later, Bene gave a weary smile and listened to the younger man speak, sadness in his eyes.

  "I can't answer this any more than you, Venerable One, but I listen to you and I'll think on what you say. That's what you wish me to do, isn't it?" Bene's smile suddenly deepened. He touched Autoc gently.

  "You've always been special to me, but you know that, don't you?" There was no need for the younger mage to respond. It showed in his face. Autoc grasped the thin hand and held it briefly to his lips.

  Looking at the Archmage with some concern, he said, "You're deeply exhausted. You must also know I'll follow all you taught me, Revered One, though some things are imponderables that we'll probably argue over for cycles to come." He stooped to pick another flower that he handed to Bene, saying with a wicked twinkle, "Perhaps you should join us at the gathering. I'll go to it before I leave." Bene looked up, his eyes bright and alert.

  "Why should I? I'm too tired."

  "We need some seriousness at what might otherwise be considered a time of frivolity," suggested Autoc facetiously. Bene's brow cleared.

  "You're a cheeky young thing," he said, beginning to laugh. The men linked arms. At the base of the shallow steps that led up to the hall, Bene tightened his grip on Autoc's arm. "Take care of them for me," he said pleadingly.

  Autoc said very gently, "I'll do all I can within the limits of my instructions, I promise you that, Venerable One. I beg you to trust me."

  Bene glanced at the younger mage, his expression softened. He nodded and they began walking again.

  Yarilan Chronicles 2466, Crescent Astral Yarilo Cycle 2208.

  We note, with increased concern, the rumours that earlier reached us, do have alarming substance. There's a strong source of power in the deep south, not yet isolated. We hope the power that exists isn't that of the renegade Malekim. Since this alleged sorcerer has shown no signs of being our erstwhile brother, perhaps we're over-anxious. Still, we watch with increased concern.

 

  Many areas of the south are now subjugated. It includes the gentle Yazd. They are ruthlessly hunted down and slaughtered or sometimes enslaved by the dominant warrior lord, named Lodestok. We hear he now answers to Warlord.

 

  We're told the Conclave of Readers and Seekers may be in jeopardy. That seriously alarms us because the Conclave has an important function for the balance of Ambros. We continue to closely monitor the situation.

 

  In the north of Ambros, there are no signs of warlike tendencies. The peace that's prevailed there for hundreds of Ambros cycles is pleasing.

 

  Our Archmage has returned from a stay on Ambros. He's understandably deeply anxious that the south's activities could upset the balance as happened in the past. He fears history may repeat itself, something to be avoided at all costs.

  Yarilan Chronicles 2467, Crescent Astral Yarilo Cycle 2208.

  We've received advice from the Conclave. The Mishtok tells us the source of power in the south comes from a sorcerer who calls himself Blach. Little is known about him, but we'll be sent all information as it's received. I'll duly record it.

 

  Again we wonder if the sorcerer, whoever he is, is near or at an ancient Keep. We suspect he is.

  CHAPTER TEN

  To the northern Ambrosians, the people of the south were remote. It had been this way since the times of earlier conflict and upheaval at the end of the Second Age. Northern and Central Ambros had peacefully flourished. In the south, people bickered among themselves for hundreds of cycles. They had no thoughts of unity, or understanding of the value of combining power to enable them to progress. Many were singularly cruel and ruthless groups, too busy ensuring their individuality survived to take over-much notice of their farthest northern neighbours. Unkind mountainous terrain between north and south Ambros didn't encourage either side to contact the other.

  In the south of Ambros, any social development, after the upheaval of the Second Age, came late compared with the north. The earliest southern culture disappeared some cycles before the upheaval began. Northern children learned that the spread of wars was inevitable as a social order was formed. So it transpired in the south.

  ~~~

  After the disintegration of the early social order and civilisation, mostly the Druans, some southern tribes became preoccupied with military organisation. They built defensive forts and camps. These became fortified towns that, in turn, were superseded by big walled cities built with frightening defensive capabilities. The larger the city, the more control its leader had over others. Cities were built to show wealth and to intimidate. Existing Druan cities were absorbed by the more powerful.

  Originally, because they came from similar ethnic roots, many of the southern peoples had similar weapons, but over time whole groupings ceased to be martial, while others became more so. As cycles passed, arms became more sophisticated and lethal, with emphasis, in some cities, given to organised training. Not so in other cities. Some peoples became more proficient in the use of weaponry and became feared for their prowess. The massively walled cities became influential and increasingly wealthy - they were rigorously protected.

  ~~~

  The status of warrior among these more warlike people had enormous and increasing significance, because these warriors developed into a class of their own. They made others submissive to them. However, being a warrior was not a role entered into lightly. Though it sometimes
led to loss of life, it could also lead to power, despite the rites to warriorhood being vicious. These warriors, therefore, were taught to be impervious to pain or suffering, and among them endurance was lauded. This made them fiercesome and terrifying opponents in war.

  Submission to their chief, or warrior lord as he became known, was paramount. Their lives were lived at his whim. Each initiate was also required to undergo a long period of intensive training in weaponry, in horsemanship and in the arts of war. This latter was not so different from life in some of the northern states, namely Kyaran and Sushi.

  What happened in the south, however, was to have far-reaching implications for the whole of Ambros. With the development of social organisation came a formalised military life for many of these groups. The original groupings of tribes and clans no longer sufficed. One group of tribesfolk grew stronger, faster than the rest and they united among themselves, as others didn't.

  ~~~

  These were the Nuur, the Kerulen, the Kersk, the Vaksh, and the Churchik. All these people had strong ethnic links. They were fiercely cruel and quarrelsome, the dominant group among them the Churchik who aroused terror wherever they went. Even other peoples, within this grouping, soon lost their loosely given affinity and were ruthlessly absorbed into the expanding power of the Churchik. For the Churchik, military might and physical prowess attained such importance it conditioned the whole structure and outlook of their society. Warriors became the elite, the warrior lords inviolate.

  ~~~

  Among the Churchik, the warrior lord became a ruler within his city-states, with a personal warrior guard, and a permanent standing army in a perpetual state of readiness for frequent feuds and punitive sorties on rivals. Each warrior, of whatever rank, swore fealty to the warrior lord. It was done with blood. Captives became slaves who lived in abject and terrorized servility. The Churchik controlled not only the waging of war. They also learned how to plan long-range attacks.

  ~~~

  Of all the warrior lords, one stood out as singularly efficient and brutal. His name was Lodestok. Blach, a sorcerer who occupied a southern fortress, a Keep, began to pay him particular attention, encouraging him in his ambition to establish a Churchik empire that would control Ambros. Over time, other warrior lords deferred more and more to Lodestok. The last remaining independent city-states, mostly Vaksh, had succumbed some time since. They were totally decimated by the Churchik. Lodestok conquered rulers and people at astonishing speed. Lodestok, though a Vaksh, became the natural leader and when he styled himself Warlord, no other warrior lord was prepared to argue with him.

  ~~~

  The Churchik learned from their past as few others did, surpassing their predecessors in the effective and ruthless use of savagery. Mutilation and slavery became accepted and commonplace. Blach, through Lodestok, encouraged cruel reprisals. The sorcerer was seldom seen, but it was known in the early days that he was in contact with the most powerful warrior lords, then, finally, only with Lodestok.

  ~~~

  Men relentlessly trained before campaigns. Discipline was vicious and harsh, with transgression of any sort, including physical weakness, swiftly dealt with. It was never a pleasant way to die. Warriors were always under control and battle ready; the crueller they were, the faster up the hierarchy they went. Those at the bottom of the scale found life difficult.

  ~~~

  Quite suddenly the Churchik began to increase in power. All now had to owe allegiance to Lodestok. That this coincided with the warlord being a guest at the sorcerer's Keep led to uneasy murmurings that Blach favoured the Churchik ruled by this warlord. Rumours spread that he could control men's minds, and stories circulated of Churchik now enslaving former allies, with atrocities perpetrated under the guise of control and overlordship. People who once regularly visited the deep south shied away. Uneasiness was rife. None of them, though, sensed their fate.

  ~~~

  Blach made contact with Lodestok after a long absence. A messenger arrived at Valshika, Lodestok's main city-state, and immediately prostrated himself when the warlord stood over him and nudged him with a booted foot. The messenger looked up, scared eyes meeting chilly blue ones, as he handed over a billet with the sorcerer's red dragon seal.

  "You are from the Keep?" The man nodded. "You are, presumably, mute?" There was another nod. "Is a reply expected?" There was a third nod. "Leave me."

  ~~~

  Lodestok was fairly representative of his race. He was exceptionally tall compared with most Ambrosians other than the Shadowlanders, though some northerners, like the Samars, had height. All Churchik and Vaksh were unusually tall. Where many of the southern people were slightly built, Lodestok was a Vaksh, with a barrel chest and heavily muscled thighs. Like the Churchik, they were physically extremely powerful and made excellent, fiercesome fighters.

  Most deep southerners were fair. The Vaksh, like the Kerulen, were very pale blond; the Churchik blond was more yellow. Lodestok's paler hair was thick and curly and hung just below his massive shoulders. It was a sign of his Vaksh origin that he never wore his hair restrained in the plaited queue of the Churchik. This also set him apart.

  Implanted in his forehead, though partly obscured by hair, he wore a large blue gem that denoted his status as a Saratquan, or warrior lord, of city-states, and the rest of his person was bedecked in the southern fashion, with heavy bracelets, multiple expensive earrings, lavish, heavy rings on each finger and intricately woven necklaces of gold.

  He wore the mark of all Churchik who aspired to be warriors: it was a long, deep, white line that cut from above the left eye, swept across the cheekbone and ended at the lobe of the ear. Much of it was hidden by the very long and luxuriant beard. A lush moustache drooped over a ruthless mouth. Lodestok was imposing and a very fine-looking man.

  Only very recently, Lodestok decided to use the facial cut, this time on the right side of the face, as a sign of slave ownership, as well as branding. Slaves would carry both marks for ease of identification. He was mulling over an alternative to the facial cut for newly made warriors and was thinking about this when the Keep messenger arrived.

  Lodestok perused the missive, frowned slightly, and sat thoughtfully for some time, then he pensively rose. He strode in a leisurely way to a desk, sat, and began deliberately to write.

  ~~~

  It was always hot at the Keep, but inside where Blach and Lodestok sat was pleasantly cool. The two men had conversed for some time before there was a long pause. Blach raised his eyes from his goblet, rose, filled his and then crossed to the warlord to fill his. When Lodestok looked up, their eyes met.

  "You have a great thirst for knowledge, Warlord. What I show you fascinates your enquiring mind."

  "Tantalises, yes," assented Lodestok. "It would be easy to lose cycles here studying what you show me. Is there more?"

  "Oh, yes." There was the ghost of a laugh in the sorcerer's voice. "You see barely a glimpse, my friend. I am willing to indulge your insatiable quest for knowledge, Warlord."

  "Nothing is ever so freely given," observed Lodestok, a glint in his eyes.

  "Of course not," agreed the sorcerer blandly. He looked faintly amused. "But my requests are simplicity themselves."

  "Make them," offered Lodestok. The sorcerer obliged. Lodestok was thoughtful.

  "I know your ambitions, Warlord. In part they coincide with mine. What have you got to lose? I will even show you how to fully read minds. Surely that's tempting, isn't it?"

  "It is," agreed Lodestok. "Very."

  "It will mean I can communicate with you more easily as well. " Lodestok eyed the sorcerer, an eyebrow raised. "Rather than send letters."

  "Only if you wish to see me, Blach. I accept nothing else."

  "As you wish," shrugged Blach. "Now, to what we discuss. You know who interest me the most?"

  "The Yazd have no interest for me, or much use either, other than as slaves. You are welcome to them. Likewise reader/seekers, though some around could be us
eful, unless you want all those captured."

  "Not at all, Warlord. I'm not greedy. Just keep a constant flow to keep me company and entertained." The voice was chilling.

  "Why not?" responded Lodestok.

  "Then, my friend, while you finally consider, may I show you more of the Keep. It's very ancient."

  "How did I get here?" Lodestok rose.

  "Now then, Warlord," laughed Blach. "Do you expect me to let you know everything?"

  A reluctant smile came to the warlord's grimly set lips. At the moment he turned and met Blach's eyes, Lodestok, again, had the oddest, fleeting sensation the sorcerer was in his mind. He blinked and strode forward.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Among the other southern people there was a range of groupings: Sinhalien, Tsinan and Linho in the east, with Yazd, Saad, Faradhi and Mashhad to the west. They were all separate from the Churchik and owed allegiance to none but themselves. These people were more democratic, though most had a ruler of some sort. None of them owed allegiance to any dominant warrior overlord, though they had leading and respected families, and the groups had an easy understanding with one another - none sought to dominate another. They had no ethnic connection with the Churchik or others from the deep south.

  Those in the east were gifted horsemen and bowmen who bred their own horseflesh. They had once traded all over the south of Ambros, and, once long ago, in the north. Those in the west were gentle and fey people, many of the Yazd known to have second sight and to be gifted healers. In the west, the cities weren't large, their citizens contented and peaceable, their sparring wars long forgotten. The Yazd had never fought throughout their long history.

  Further north again were both nomadic and settled mountain peoples. The nomads wandered the mountainous provinces, grazing stock on pasture wherever they could find it. They were jewellers and goldsmiths who were known to be highly creative. One group was extremely socialised and rigidly structured; they were a most prosperous people known for their superb wine. None of these groups fought among themselves and they remained remote and self-contained. All but the Dakhilan traded only between themselves. It was the Dakhilan who held strategic access to the north of Ambros through treacherous mountain passes.