It had started following the suspicious death of a baron known to be hostile to Leontius. Schurmann inspired a fierce loyalty among his people, who as a reprisal attacked and burned villages of those loyal to the Grand Duke. Fillebrand, sent back to deal with the problem, had found that things had escalated in a very short time. Baron Lasthena had become the rebels’ leader and, although Fillebrand defeated his forces in a couple of battles, they had melted into the Morrathnay Forest from whence they started a hit-and-run guerrilla war that would be very difficult to put down. Leontius himself had left the war in the east in an attempt to calm the restless populace and he had done well, touring villages and personally talking its people round. He soon saw that this would be a protracted conflict, though, and so returned to the east to conclude matters there before returning to his capital. Even worse news followed shortly after, however – the north had rebelled, too. Duke Hartfield was resolving matters there, but his daughter, Leontius’s bride-to-be, had vanished, presumed dead, and dragons, creatures of dread from the pages of history, had seemingly returned to this world. Tanaren was a country in ferment, a barrel with a dozen leaks, and no one, least of all the Grand Duke, knew which leak to stop up first.
Why were they here now? Well, as they watched the walls of Axmian with snow strewn over the hard ground, a letter arrived from the Arshuman king. As a goodwill gesture he had withdrawn his troops from Grest and invited the Grand Duke to Roshythe in the spring to discuss peace terms. Leontius, desperate for good news, had accepted immediately and so, after instructing Felmere to do the same, he had marched as soon as the weather turned, leaving Cooper and a still-formidable force to continue Axmian’s siege.
Leontius looked tortured now; his hair had started to grey and his handsome features were permanently twisted into a concerned grimace. As Fillebrand readied himself to speak again, Leontius pre-empted him.
‘You are right, Fillebrand. Stand the men down; there is no need to march them into an early grave. Truth be told, I am eager to get back to my palace to deal with things there. Get peace here and I can concentrate on what really matters to me.’
‘You fret too much about the Morrathnay rebellion, my Lord. They have no figurehead, so they are no real threat to your power. Lasthena is not a figure for thousands to rally around.’
Leontius shook his head. ‘One will not be long coming if we do not act fast. Lemuel, my brother, could be one; Ysabel, my sister, could be another; you, Fillebrand, could be yet one more.’
‘My Lord!’ Fillebrand protested. ‘You jest surely. My loyalty to you cannot be questioned!’
At last Leontius smiled. ‘No, it cannot my friend; I just mentioned you for illustrative purposes. We will get peace here and return home together to face this problem.’
Fillebrand appeared pacified. ‘Thank you, my Lord. And both Lemuel and Ysabel’s husband lack the wit or courage to defy you.’
‘Lemuel can be manipulated, and fair Ysabel has ambition, intelligence and beauty enough for two people. And there are others! Rulership makes as many enemies as friends. I need a wife and child quickly, now my first choice is dead.’
‘Disappeared, not dead,’ Fillebrand corrected him. ‘But there are many good candidates – a late-spring or early-summer wedding cannot harm you, can it?’
‘No,’ said Leontius circumspectly. He raised his arm to attract his captain, the one in charge of signals. ‘We will camp here then. I am happy to concede some territory to Aganosticlan as long as I can get back quickly; I tire of this part of the world already.’ He rode off to give his orders, leaving Richney and Fillebrand alone. Richney half mumbled to his companion.
‘The way he has been treating me, I would be happy to be a figure for the rebels to rally around.’
‘Enough of that treason,’ Fillebrand admonished him sharply. ‘Do you want to lie on the rack before watching your family being strung up in front of you? Your position is your own fault. Had you shown more competence you would be with Duneck at the army’s head, not hidden behind me as an afterthought!’
Richney was silent. Surly but silent. Fillebrand spat on to the ground. Even Leontius’s most loyal nobles were having doubts. A war in the east appeared to be nearly over but the fate of the country itself, and its potential for civil war, hung on a knife edge. Fillebrand just prayed that he would pick the right side if and when it started; the thought of his wife and children swinging in the breeze, eyeless with blackened swollen tongues lolling out of their mouths, was too horrific for him to contemplate.
3
The jailor, smiling politely, led Cedric to the same cell door that had once held Syalin. A Knight of the Thorn stood outside it, winged helmet on, so that only his eyes could be seen. Cedric was tiring of the sight of such knights for he had just spent an hour with several of them, discussing the fate of the prisoner he was about to visit. The knight stood aside as the jailor unlocked the door and invited Cedric inside. Cedric nodded cheerfully at him before walking into the cell. ‘Half-hour only,’ he heard the knight say before the door was locked behind him.
Cheris was wearing a long, shapeless black robe tied with red cord. Mage robes provided by the knights, the robes of a prisoner. She was pale and looked tired but that did not stop her rising from her seat, smiling and taking his hand. She returned to her seat as Cedric pulled out a stool from behind the small table and sat opposite her.
‘You look well,’ Cheris said. ‘The change in weather must be helping you.’
‘Yes.’ Cedric nodded his head. ‘The weather and Astania are helping; my joints do seem to loosen a little in the warmth. And what do you make of your new rooms? Hardly preferable to Mathilde’s old chambers, I would imagine.’
‘It is like my room back on the island, only airier. It would be churlish of me to complain.’
‘And futile, I fear. The knights are not forgiving of your transgressions, not yet anyway.’
There was a small pewter plate on the table with a piece of dried bread lying idly on it. Cheris picked it up and started to nibble at it, as fastidious as a hamster.
‘No. They hate me now; they even wanted to chain my wrists in case I blasted the door down, even though such a move would be suicide for me. I believe Morgan talked them round.’
‘Indeed he did,’ said Cedric. ‘He is doing well as Baron – the army supports him and he has kept the people fed through the winter. And now he has assigned me to found a university here. Perhaps that is why I look so well; I have a purpose that is consuming my time again.’
Cheris gave a wry smile. ‘I thought you were off chasing dragons?’
Cedric looked grave at the remark. ‘Indeed. But I fear the Hartfield girl, Dominic’s sister, is already lost to us. As for the dragons themselves, well, it may be a study for younger, fitter men now, though it would be nice to discuss such things with Terath again. But that is not why I am here.’
‘No,’ said Cheris as she swallowed, ‘I imagine it is for something relating to me, is it not? By the way help yourself to some bread, or some water if you wish; they spare no expense when it comes to fine dining.’
‘Thank you no,’ said Cedric. ‘I ate earlier, rather better than you as well. No, I have been speaking to the knights about what will happen to you; it is not something they will discuss at length with you personally, not before your trial, but I have been able to glean a little information that you might be interested in.’
Cheris eyes brightened a little. ‘Really? I thought it was fairly decided; I get sent back to the island and tried before a senior knight and mage. Possessing a banned tome such as the one I had is usually punishable by death. One has not been carried out at the college since I joined it but I believe it is quick, a sword through the heart. I hope it is quick anyway.’
‘Various colleges have different methods of execution but there are many mitigating circumstances to your crime. You drove away an enemy army and killed its general with no loss to the defenders; what you did was in response to an attac
k on your person, and, most importantly, you surrendered yourself willingly into the Knights’ custody as soon as you could. Added to this will be the testimony of the Baron and any other witnesses of character including myself, and I have been given to understand that you will be spared the death penalty.’
To his surprise, she did not look that relieved. ‘What is likely to happen to me then?’
‘Imprisonment. Solitary confinement for at least a year. The worst outcome for you would be imprisonment for life or until you have either forgotten how to wield your powers or are physically unable to use them through infirmity.’
‘Will I be allowed books?’
Cedric coughed into his hand. ‘Excuse me... I believe so but no magical ones. The knights were a bit vague but I got the impression that any reading material allowed would be of a religious nature.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I take it I am to spend my incarceration reading about how terrible my crimes were and how to understand the true nature of contrition.’
‘Something like that.’
They were silent for a minute. Cheris continued to nibble her bread while Cedric kept looking at the floor. Finally, though, he looked up at her and spoke again.
‘So why did you do it?’
‘He raped me.’
‘Hundreds of men died. Only one of them raped you.’
Cheris sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘No. I did not expect so many to die or the thing I summoned to be so large. The only way I could ensure that Trask died was to control the demon for a while, to make sure it did the job correctly. It was exhausting, so once he was dead, I released the demon to cause its own chaos. Maybe that was a mistake.’ She started to look a little more animated; discussing the nature of magic seemed to awaken her desire to talk. ‘The problem I had with routine magic is that none of the powers I control are specific enough to kill one particular man. They are destructive, but indiscriminate, so to kill Trask ...well, my knowledge was not sufficient to the task. I had to try something else.’
‘And now he is dead, are you free?’
‘Yes,’ she said with a smile. ‘Well no, not literally, but up here.’ She tapped her head. ‘I do sleep easier; I am not free of him – maybe I never will be – but he has diminished in my mind. It is ironic, though, that he may well be the last man to have me, physically, especially if I am to remain in prison for the rest of my life.’
‘I am sorry, Cheris.’
‘Do not be. I have brought this upon myself.’
‘Was it worth committing a crime bearing the penalty of death just to be rid of him?’
She paused reflectively. ‘Yes ...well, at least I thought so. Now I am not so sure. For a long time I have not cared whether I lived or died; before I summoned the spirit I cared not if my destiny would be a sword through the heart. I felt so dirty, I felt such terrible shame, it sometimes felt that death would be a release of sorts. Since I arrived here I have felt that people were talking about me and not in a kind way. How could a woman with such powers allow that to happen to her? Perhaps her resistance was token, perhaps she secretly wanted it, that sort of thing.’
‘You know that is an untruth.’
‘Yes, I do you all a disservice, I know, but I cannot control the way my mind works. So in answer to your question, yes, at the time Trask’s life for my own seemed a fair exchange. Now, however, more than a small part of me wants to keep living – why, I don’t know. Anyhow, it is all out of my hands now, it is in the hands of the Gods, or the Knights of the Thorn, which is pretty much the same thing.’
‘You will live, Cheris; you have my word.’ Cedric smiled weakly at her.
‘Thank you, Cedric, not just for this, but for your friendship generally. I have been lonely since my mentor’s death and the concern of both you and Morgan has been a comfort to me. Thank you.’
Cedric smiled sympathetically at her before standing. ‘Well, I have brought what little news I could. I...’
‘Tell me. How is Mikel?’
‘He is well as far as I know; he has joined the troops marching east. You know he is forbidden from seeing you?’
‘I guessed he would be. My only visitors have been you, Mathilde and Morgan, so I knew something was stopping him.’
Cedric gave a little laugh as something jogged his memory. ‘Oh your little cat is growing. Astania and I are looking after her at the moment. She is being cared for, never fear.’
Cheris smiled again. ‘I am glad. Please make sure somebody looks after her, I doubt I will ever see her again.’
‘I will, my dear.’ Cedric moved towards the door. ‘And now I had better be on my way.’
Cheris stopped him with a word. ‘Wait! Cedric. Something troubles me, I must admit I have not been entirely truthful with you.’
Cedric looked surprised; he moved back towards the table. ‘Have you not indeed? In what way?’
Cheris did not meet his gaze. ‘After the battle at Grest I spoke to Marcus. I told him that the final spell I cast I did not to win the battle but because I was testing the limits of my own power. And that is what I did with the demon. Part of me wanted to kill Trask with it, of course, but there is something in my make-up, something much darker. I summoned the demon because I could. There are very few mages who could do such a thing and live.’
‘According to Mikel,’ Cedric said gravely, ‘no one living today could do what you did that night. You are the sort of spell-caster that comes around once every ten or twenty generations. You have been noticed. And not just by people in this country.’
She looked at him then and Cedric noticed anguish in her eyes. ‘I will not stop, Cedric. If I am allowed to, I will keep testing myself until I know what my full potential is. How many would die on the altar of my vanity? So you see the Knights are correct – if not death, then exile and incarceration are a just response to ... to whatever I am. Xhenafa, Marcus called me; it was partly in jest but only partly. I know now I incite terror in normal men. I would love nothing more than a small house with a husband and children running around my feet, but for such as me there is nothing. I cause only pain, to myself and others, and it is something I must accept. Perhaps a lifetime reading of the evils of my kind is not such a bad idea.’
Cedric looked at her with sympathy. ‘You are only what the Gods have made you, Cheris. Remember you won a battle here, and at Grest. In the long term you may have saved many more lives than you took. You are not evil and besides...’ – he was back at the door again – ‘...you have such power you will never be allowed to rot in a prison for the rest of your days. The Gods have a purpose for you, Cheris Menthur; maybe one day all of us will realise just exactly what that purpose is.’
With a polite bow he left her.
She was alone again. Outside a nightingale sang sweetly, or was it a thrush? She didn’t really know. She stood and went over to her bed on which rested a Book of Elissa. Opening it at an entirely random spot she started to read. Slowly, for it seemed she had all the time in the world to understand its words.
4
It was just as she remembered it. The smell of leather, animal pelts, the wood smoking and burning in the deep fire pit running down the centre of the long house. The thick, brightly coloured woven blankets folded neatly in the bunks running alongside the walls constructed of logs and sealed with pitch and animal dung. The trailing smoke escaping through the circular open chimney that admitted the only natural light in the building. And the table next to the fire, black wood stained with grease, and scored with eating knives pushed too forcefully through spitted meat. Syalin was back to her childhood in an instant.
But she was no longer a child.
It was Chief Overseer Anyk who had given her this final task, her final test, the one she had to pass to become a Strekha. Anyk had noticed with grim amusement the horror in the young woman’s eyes as she was told what she had to do but, despite the tears and begging, her orders did not change. She had given such girls similar missions a
hundred times before and the protestations had become so familiar that they meant nothing to her. Syalin had to accept her word and that was it.
And now she was here, in the place she had used to call home. Apart from herself there was only one figure in the house, in a chair facing away from her, a big man with a mane of shaggy grey hair. She drew her knife and, with her heart pounding faster than she had ever known before, she approached her mark.
The knife was shaking in her trembling hand but she made little noise, The floor was bare earth covered in coarse rugs; it was easy to be silent here. She was but a couple of feet away now and was trying to work out where through the chair to thrust the knife for an instant kill. It had to be an instant kill.
Her sharp breathing must have been audible for as she was preparing to strike he spoke. His voice was rich, deep and familiar. ‘Hello, Syalin,’ he said. And turned to face her.
‘Hello, Father.’ Came her hoarse reply.
He was older now. His beard was broader and greyer and some of his great musculature had faded a little, but he was still large and powerful. He looked at her warmly with his dark eyes, how could she possibly hurt him?
‘You are a woman now, I see. A warrior serving a great emperor and yet you return. Were you permitted to? From what I hear he does not let his charges go easily.’
‘I have been given a task to complete.’ She was his favourite child once; part of her wanted to reach out and hug him just as she used to. Afterwards he would always pick her up and put her on his shoulders or swing her round in the air.
‘A task you say. May I guess what it is?’
‘Of course, Father, of course.’
‘I have discussed many things with the elders since you left us. I knew nothing of your order then – just the name and the fear that that brings. Now, though, I do know what you are and have been waiting long for this day. You are here to kill me, are you not?’
‘Yes, Father. Yes, I am.’
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