War of Magic
By Meredith Mansfield
Copyright 2016 Meredith Mansfield
Kindle Edition
Cover Images:
Background: © Valeev Rafael | Dreamstime.com - Red and Blue Fire Photo
Lion: © Dvargfoto | Dreamstime.com – Head of Fire Lion. Photo
Map
Table of Contents
Map
Chapter 1: Premonition
Chapter 2: Spy
Chapter 3: Warning
Chapter 4: Dissension
Chapter 5: High Council
Chapter 6: Double Council
Chapter 7: Flying Lessons
Chapter 8: Warning Ignored
Chapter 9: Savara
Chapter 10: Flying Solo
Chapter 11: Battle of Caere
Chapter 12: Interrogation
Chapter 13: The Battle Continues
Chapter 14: Truth is the Best Weapon
Chapter 15: Engineered Escape
Chapter 16: Fight Training
Chapter 17: The Plan Succeeds
Chapter 18: News from the North
Chapter 19: New Plan
Chapter 20: Zeda
Chapter 21: Superstition
Chapter 22: Back to the Valley
Chapter 23: Awakening
Chapter 24: Torn
Chapter 25: Captive
Chapter 26: Bad News
Chapter 27: Farewell
Chapter 28: Far Sight
Chapter 29: Flight to Zeda
Chapter 30: Persuasion
Chapter 31: Unexpected Reception
Chapter 32: Rare Talent
Chapter 33: Escape
Chapter 34: Planning to Fight Magic
Chapter 35: The Black Lion
Chapter 36: Practice
Chapter 37: Far Speech
Chapter 38: The Hunt
Chapter 39: Training
Chapter 40: Prisoners
Chapter 41: Revised Plans
Chapter 42: Thrown Together
Chapter 43: Devastation
Chapter 44: Sentinels
Chapter 45: Quenching
Chapter 46: News
Chapter 47: Flying to War
Chapter 48: Battle Plans
Chapter 49: Through the Eyes of Eagles and Lions
Chapter 50: The Battle Is Joined
Chapter 51: Comrades in Arms
Chapter 52: Reinforcements
Chapter 53: Solutions
Chapter 54: Sacrifices
Chapter 55: Undeserved Reward
Chapter 56: New Bonds
Epilogue
Exerpt from Become
Additional Material
What Happened After
Genealogies
Cast of Characters
Peoples
The Story So Far
About the Author
Chapter 1: Premonition
Vatar stared into the heart of his forge, gauging both the heat of the fire—just right—and the temperature of the piece of steel heating there—not quite ready to be worked on his anvil. He twitched his shoulders against a sudden prickling sensation, the one that always presaged danger.
His heartbeat sped up in reaction. Something bad was about to happen and he had no idea what it might be. Vatar tried to look away from the forge, to look around the yard beyond his workshop and locate the source of danger. It hadn’t been that long ago that his children had been attacked in that very yard. But something about the flames held his eyes. Shapes, moving.
At one time, before he’d known about his inborn magic, he’d seen visions in the fire. Most often of Thekila, the woman who was now his life mate. He knew now that had been Far Sight—that he was actually seeing her across an impossible distance with his magic. At the time he’d thought she was only a daydream.
Now that he had better control of his magic, his Far Sight shouldn’t operate without his intention. Anyway, that itch between his shoulder blades was a weak form of Fore Sight—the least reliable and most useless aspect of his magic. The one Talent he had no control over. Well, not entirely useless. That warning prickle had never been wrong. If it was Fore Sight and if it foretold some danger, as his warning signal indicated, he’d better pay attention.
Vatar leaned a little closer, trying to make some sense of the faint images. Ships. Many ships all heading toward the mouth of a bay. Vatar sucked in a deep breath. He knew that landscape, though he hadn’t seen it from that angle. Those promontories guarded the bay on which Caere rested, unless there was another place almost identical. What did that mean? The itch between his shoulder blades only intensified, portending danger. A naval attack on Caere? From where? And why? Caere was the center of a loose and mutually-beneficial alliance of all the coastal cities—well, except for Kausalya, which had recently broken away from that coalition. But, so far, that had only resulted in trade disruptions, not warfare. Not even a minor clash at sea that he’d heard of.
Then the images shifted and Vatar’s breath caught, edging toward panic. The ships became horses. Hundreds of horses charging across the plains. The riders carried bows and spears at the ready. The Dardani going to war? Against what enemy? The obvious answer to that was the thing he’d most feared. Would the Exiles and their Themyri minions finally slip past the southern defenses? How many battles lay ahead? And how far in the future? How long did they have to prepare? Years? Days? His danger sense usually indicated imminent threat, but it was nearly winter. The last merchant ship of the season had returned to harbor more than a seven-day ago. Even the fishermen wouldn’t brave the waters beyond the bay again until the weather calmed once more late next spring. And snow would soon cover the plains, if it didn’t already. Hardly conditions for a mass battle on horseback. That thought wasn’t as much comfort as it should have been.
He shook his head to clear it as the flames returned to being merely flames and cursed his Fore Sight. Once again, his ‘gift’ had given him insufficient information to be of any use. Other than to give him nightmares. No idea when this might happen. Some of the things his ancestress, Abella, had prophesied had taken six hundred years to come to pass. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d be anywhere near that lucky with this Fore Telling.
Vatar breathed in and out slowly, using the calming exercises he’d learned to gain control of his magic. It was more difficult to bring his emotions under control than it had been for some time. Maybe, partly, because he didn’t understand. A naval attack on Caere could only come from Kausalya, the only unfriendly city on the coast. But he didn’t see any relation between that and the Dardani, who lived three days journey from the sea and had no dealings at all with Kausalya. And, if he couldn’t make sense of his own premonition, how was he supposed to warn anyone?
His fists clenched in frustration and he had to start the breathing exercise over. It wasn’t as if he could force his Fore Sight to supply the missing information. Maybe more would be revealed before whatever these images foretold happened. Maybe not.
He blinked and wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his trousers. Vatar glanced at the red-hot steel, now ready to be worked. But, maybe, instead of a knife, as he’d intended, he’d make a spearhead. And try to harness that wild Talent that sometimes allowed him to sing power into the blades he forged. Protection for the user. Just in case.
Chapter 2: Spy
Zoria leaned on the makeshift rail and watched the couple of dozen or so horses the Exiles possessed grazing placidly. Even just those few days she’d spent crossing the plains with Vatar last summer meant she knew more about horses than anyone else in the Exiles’ camp. And so she’d been asked to oversee their care. Fortunately—for her cr
edibility as well as for the horses’ well-being—she was able to bespeak Orleus to ask what she should be doing. And how to do it. Covertly, of course. The Exiles must not know that she was in magical communication with their enemies. That would destroy the whole point of her being here in the first place.
She enjoyed working with the horses. They were so . . . peaceful. It helped her forget her frustration for a little while, at least. She wasn’t one of the Exiles. Not really. Her own sentence of banishment had been rescinded at Vatar’s request. And she was here to help him and his friends. The only reason she’d volunteered for this was to get information on the Exiles’ plans. And, so far, she’d failed dismally. For all she’d been able to find out, she might as well have stayed safely in Tysoe with her brother and at least tried to learn to fight. Although, from what little fighting she’d seen, she didn’t think she’d be very good at it.
Something big was being planned. That much she was certain of. If Loran were here, she could probably get him to tell her. He liked to brag. She shivered despite the late autumn sun. Just as well he wasn’t here, really. They expected her to marry Loran when he returned. And she couldn’t let on that the very idea made her skin crawl. She looked toward the snow-capped mountains in the North. Maybe, with a bit of luck, Loran would be stuck on the far side of those mountains when the snows crept lower down the slopes. Then she would have until the passes cleared again to figure out how to escape that marriage.
Still, whatever the plans were, Loran would be in the midst of it. His father must know. But there was no point trying to get information out of Nertan. The man was as closed-mouthed as a Lake clam.
I wonder if the man even talks to his own children. Hmm. Lorania had been Zoria’s friend since they started the Academy together. Otherwise, Lorania’s twin brother would probably never have noticed quiet, shy Zoria. She hadn’t spoken much to Lorania since they arrived on this side of the mountains. Her friend had been busy with other things, including her own marriage. Decency demanded that Zoria not insert herself into that, no matter how lonely she was. But maybe it had been long enough, now. She counted up the days in her head. Yes, over a month. That should be long enough. And Lorania, thank the Maker, was more like her brother than their father. If she knew something, she liked to talk about it.
Zoria’s eyes narrowed. It was customary to bring a small gift when visiting the new couple for the first time. But, especially in this rustic encampment, it didn’t have to be anything much. From her short rides—exercising the horses—she knew of a little dell where some late summer flowers still bloomed. She smiled. She could harvest two apples—or three—with one shake of the limb. Exercise one of the horses and pick some flowers as a gift. And the ride would help her mood, too.
She picked up a rope halter from the fence post and walked out into the pasture to catch the quiet grey mare she liked best.
~
To her surprise, Zoria found her friend alone in the little house which was reminiscent of the teachers’ residences back at the Academy.
Lorania drew her inside with a hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Well . . . you know . . .”
Lorania laughed. “Oh, I know. Everyone left us alone at first. Well, except Father. He called Platan back into their planning session more than a seven-day ago. And here I sit, by myself.”
Ah. The very plans I need to know about. I wonder if Platan talks to her, even if her father doesn’t. Zoria gave her friend another hug. “I’m sorry. If I’d known that was the way it was, I’d have come sooner.” After a pause, she added, “I’ve been lonely, too.” It was even the truth.
“Of course you have. Tell me. What have you been doing with yourself?” Lorania gestured for Zoria to take a seat.
Zoria shrugged as she sat. “I work with the horses, mostly.”
Lorania wrinkled her nose. “Couldn’t the Themyri do that?”
Zoria shook her head. “No! In fact, we have to keep the Themyri away from the horses. They think of them as food.”
“But . . . why you?”
“No one else seems to know much about how to care for them. I had at least a little instruction when I followed Vatar and Quetza across the plains. I don’t mind. It gives me something to do and the horses are generally very peaceful.”
“I don’t know how you could stand to follow Vatar anywhere,” Lorania said with considerable vitriol.
“There wasn’t any other way I could think of to find my way to the Exiles,” Zoria lied. Coming to the Exiles as a spy had been an afterthought. She’d followed Vatar because she owed him for rescuing her—even after the harm she and her erstwhile friends had done to him.
Lorania shrugged. “Well . . . I guess that’s true.”
Zoria judged it was time to take control of the conversation and try to guide it to the subjects she was most interested in. She ducked her head and tried to simulate distress. She concentrated on her worry at not being able to get the information her friends—her real friends—needed, rather than on her relief that Loran hadn’t returned when originally expected. “And now I’m here and Loran is out there someplace and no one will tell me where or what he’s doing. Or when he’ll be back.”
Lorania made a face. “Father always has been very close-mouthed—even when it doesn’t make any sense.” She cocked her head to one side, regarding Zoria. “That’s not very fair, though, is it? I mean, who has a better right to know than you?” She glanced toward the door. “But you have to promise not to let on that I told you.”
“All right,” Zoria said. That was a promise she could keep. She only needed to pass on the information—not how she’d gotten it. “I promise.”
Lorania leaned forward. “Well, you know Loran was supposed to be back before the snows, because he was only supposed to do a little scouting and try to find a way around those outposts that kept our forces from moving north last year.”
Zoria forced herself not to interrupt Lorania with questions. She needed to get as much information as possible while she had the chance. She nodded expectantly.
Lorania went on. “So, Loran was to go west and see if there wasn’t some way around, like I said. He had to sneak past what they call a town. Not much more civilized than those outposts, according to him.” She looked around the bare walls of her house. “Of course, it’s no better here. But this is only temporary.”
“Go on.”
“He’d gotten past the town and some outlying farms and camps. Apparently, it’s really spread out. And he’d started to follow a river, thinking that might lead him somewhere useful, when he was captured by some men in a uniform he didn’t recognize. The ones who defend those outposts wear brown and green. These were in blue and grey. And they took him to a proper city. Not like ours, in the Valley, of course. But almost as large and well organized.”
Zoria felt something loosen in her chest that had been wound tight ever since that last encounter with Loran, months ago. She tried to sound disappointed, rather than relieved. “So, he’s a prisoner?”
Lorania shook her head. “No. It turns out that the woman who rules that city—she has a funny name, Jersa, or something like that—she hates Vatar very nearly as much as we do. And she knows all about other cities, including the place where she says we’re likely to find Vatar. Loran is helping our father and Wartan hammer out an alliance with her. They’ll be leaving soon—before the passes close completely—to meet with her in person. Most of the men, both ours and the Themyri, will go with them.”
Zoria digested this for a moment. Though they’d turned south immediately after leaving the Forest, Vatar had said something about a city on the coast, but farther north. Presumably that was the one this Jersa meant. But . . . it still didn’t make sense. All the battles last summer, just to get to Vatar. Granted, he’d killed Wartan’s son—in self-defense—and that had precipitated the outbursts that had resulted in the Exile of Nertan’s and Wartan’s entire families and their supporters, but . . . surely all
that effort would be better expended building a new place of their own, here. “So . . . all of this has been to get Vatar?”
Lorania shook her head. “No, of course not. No one has told you anything, have they? The main goal has always been to get back to the Valley and remove those fools that call themselves our Council, the same ones who had the gall to exile us, and set up a proper government. One that truly values our magic and what it means. Aren’t the pitiful Themyri proof enough? We were meant to rule the lesser races. To teach them and improve them. But to do that, we first need to get back to the rest of our people. And remove the blinders that have kept them subservient to the Tenets for too long.”
Zoria blinked. The ragged, primitive Themyri certainly seemed to her to need someone to show them how civilized people lived. Teach them skills, like making something besides flint-tipped weapons. That would have been in accord with the Tenets the Valson lived by, to use their Powers properly. But . . . she wasn’t exactly sure that was what was happening now. More like they were being used as slaves. Of course, Nertan, Wartan, and all who followed them had been exiled precisely because they repudiated the Tenets. She needed to understand the scope of this plan. Among other things, how long was it likely to take for the Exiles to turn back toward the Valley to subjugate the Valson as they had the Themyri?
“There are other ‘lesser’ races, like the Themyri?”
Lorania shrugged. “Well . . . not precisely. From what Loran’s been able to gather, the Themyri are the most primitive group. Along the coast, there’s a mix of people who, like the Themyri, have no Powers at all, but they’re nearly as advanced as we are otherwise. And they’re already ruled by those, like Jersa, who have magic similar to ours. That’s why Father and Wartan are willing to make an alliance instead of just trying to take over ourselves. But, once we leave the coast and turn back toward the Forest, there’ll be other people there—a little more advanced than the Themyri, but totally without Powers. In fact, Loran has heard rumors that they have some kind of religious taboo against magic of any kind. And, according to Jersa, that’s where Vatar grew up, although he’s half-blood of the ruling class, on his father’s side. That’s why he didn’t know anything about magic before he reached the Valley.”
War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4) Page 1
