War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4)

by Meredith Mansfield

  “Then . . . why worry about Vatar at all? Isn’t he irrelevant to the greater plan?” Zoria asked to give herself time to think.

  “Vatar is really just a side issue, Father says. But Wartan has always insisted on dealing with him—and anyone who helps him—before we return to the Valley. Pay him back for killing Keran. I can’t really say I disagree with him.”

  “No, of course not,” Zoria said. Lorania wouldn’t disagree with that. She’d been in love with Keran, after all. Platan, always a follower to the more aggressive Loran and Keran, must seem like a poor substitute to her.

  Lorania grinned ferociously. “Besides. If we can subjugate Vatar’s people the way we have the Themyri, that will give us a much larger army when we return home. And our victory will be even sweeter for coming on the backs of everything Vatar cared about.”

  Zoria fought against a shiver. She couldn’t give herself away by such a reaction, but everything Lorania said turned her stomach. While she didn’t particularly like the Themyri, she didn’t much care for the way most of the Exiles treated them, either. And she didn’t think they’d treat any other non-magical people any better. It gave her chills to think of their brutal philosophy displacing the generations of peace the Valson had enjoyed under the Tenets.

  She swallowed hard and decided to try to get as much information as she could while Lorania was in a mood to talk. “How does this alliance help us then? Other than maybe finding Vatar? I mean, a city on the coast doesn’t get us any closer to a return to the Valley, does it?”

  Lorania grinned. “Well, that depends. This Jersa apparently has ships at her command. And it seems that what she really wants is to take over a bigger city up the coast. Which, with her ships and our Themyri forces added to hers, should be easy. Especially since she knows all about that city and its defenses. Then, according to her, going pretty much due east will take us straight to Vatar’s people—and then on to the Forest and eventually the Valley. And we might have some men from those two cities to help us, too. At the very least, we’ll have supplies and arms. She says the best blacksmiths in this part of the world are to be found in that bigger city.”

  Zoria stared unseeing at the wall in front of her. She’d never imagined the Exiles could intend to subjugate the whole world, but it sure seemed like that was their plan.

  Lorania laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry, though. As soon as the alliance has been worked out, Loran will be able to sail down the coast, around those mountains, snow or no snow, and come back to you. You won’t have to wait for the spring thaw to open the mountain passes.”

  Zoria gulped and managed to nod at this intended reassurance—which was anything but. She’d have to wait until much later that evening, when nearly everyone was asleep, to pass on this information. That was the only way to be sure that she wouldn’t be interrupted. And that no one who could detect her magic would notice she was using it to contact her brother on the other side of the mountains. They needed to know—all of them—as soon as possible.

  Chapter 3: Warning

  Vatar pulled his five-year-old son, Zavar, down out of the apple tree before sitting on the bench to answer the tickle of Far Speech. No sense letting the boy break another bone by allowing him to climb unattended. But he felt as if this couldn’t wait. Vatar’d only been contacted directly by Quetza once before. And that had been with news about the Exiles. “Quetza?”

  “Yes. Can you gather everyone together? Zoria had some disturbing news for us last night. It’d be easier if you could relay it, so that everyone knows.”

  Vatar sucked in a breath. Everyone? He took a quick mental inventory of everyone living at the farm right now. Thekila, obviously. And Arcas, Vatar’s cousin and business partner. They were both still in the house. It was early enough that the Valson envoys, Teran and Terania, probably hadn’t left for the Temple school and the archives yet. “I think so. It might take me a few minutes.”

  “Good. When you’ve got everyone together, contact me. I’ll be waiting.” And with that, Quetza cut the connection.

  He opened his bond to Thekila. Can you keep Arcas there for a little while? Quetza has some news for us.

  Yes.

  Vatar stood up. “That’s all the climbing for this morning.”

  “Aw. Just a little longer?” Zavar wheedled.

  Vatar smiled down at his son, but shook his head. “Sorry. There’s something I need to do.”

  “Caslar didn’t even get a turn,” Zavar argued.

  Vatar turned to see Arcas’s son, not quite two years younger than the twins, watching them solemnly. “Caslar is too young for climbing yet—and don’t you encourage him. Or there’ll be no riding lessons, either.”

  Zavar’s eyes grew wide and he placed his hands behind his back. So far, that threat had proved the best way to guarantee the boy’s good behavior. Remembering himself at roughly that age, Vatar had to wonder how much longer that would last. And what he’d use when that no longer worked.

  Savara came to stand beside her twin. That gave Vatar an idea.

  He looked at the little girl. “I meant to check on the chickens this morning. Make sure that the net I put up around the fence is holding and the chickens can’t get into the neighbor’s fields again. Do you think you two and Caslar could take care of that for me? You’ll have to count all the chickens, even the babies. And the baby goats, too.”

  Savara danced with glee. “Oh, let me, Papa. Let me.”

  “You, and Zavar, and Caslar.” He smiled at her. “It’s your job to keep the boys out of trouble for a little while. All right?”

  Savara tilted her chin up and looked at her twin. “All right.”

  Vatar grinned as he left them to it. Gentle Savara was starting to remind him of his little sister. And there wasn’t a more persistent person in existence than Kiara. There couldn’t be. He strode over to the guest house and knocked briskly on the door before entering the main room.

  Terania stepped out of a door down the hall that led to the back part of the house. “Vatar? What is it?”

  “Quetza asked us all to gather. She has some news for us.”

  Terania nodded. “We’ll be right over.”

  ~

  When they were all together in the main house, sitting around the table with a platter of fruit and a pitcher of cider, Vatar turned to his wife. Quetza was, after all, Thekila’s oldest friend. “Thekila, do you want to contact Quetza?”

  Thekila gave a quick shake of her head. “If she contacted you first, it’s probably important that you get the information directly.”

  One of the limitations of Far Speech was that it was only possible to speak mind-to-mind with one person at a time. Vatar nodded and reached out. “Quetza?”

  “Yes. We got news from Zoria late last night. It’s important.”

  Vatar repeated her words for the others in the room. He got up from the table and paced across the main room as he continued to relay the message, unable to sit still. His fists clenched and unclenched. It all sounded too much like that vision he’d had. And if the first part was about to happen, what about the second? And, more to the point, what could he do about it? What was the purpose of Fore Sight that didn’t give any useful information—like how to prevent all this from happening?

  Vatar rubbed his brow as Quetza finished recounting Zoria’s news. “‘Jersa’ must be a corruption of Gerusa.” He repeated his comment out loud for the others through clenched teeth. Gerusa had caused plenty of trouble already, both before she was ousted from the High Council here in Caere and after. He had no doubt her goal was to return and put herself at the head of the High Council—if not displace the council entirely. He also knew she’d do her utmost to avenge herself against him for all the times he and Thekila had thwarted her schemes.

  “I agree,” Quetza replied.

  Vatar continued pacing as he repeated a few questions from Arcas and Teran by Far Speech and then relayed Quetza’s answers.

  “That’s as much as we
know right now,” Quetza said.

  “I take it Orleus has informed the High Council of this.” Vatar was confident that his half-brother would have been relaying the same information to Father and the High Council, which was why it had been Quetza who’d contacted Vatar, but it didn’t hurt to make sure. If not, he’d have to alert Father immediately.

  “Of course,” Quetza answered, ending the link.

  Arcas spun his half-empty mug of cider on the table in front of him. “Well, we have some time to prepare, at least. Not even Gerusa could get those ships out of Kausalya’s harbor until after the winter storms are well past.”

  Vatar ceased his pacing and spun to face his cousin. “Are you sure of that? Gerusa can be ruthless. She wouldn’t hesitate to commandeer those ships.”

  “Yes. But she’d still need someone to sail them. And she’d never get the crews to go out willingly before then. Too many ships have been lost in the winter storms.” Arcas smiled wryly. “And if she found a way to force them to leave the harbor, they’d just anchor in the first cove they came to. The Dardani superstitions about magic are nothing to the sailors’ tales about storm season.”

  Vatar blew out a breath. “Well, that’s something, though I’m not sure what we can do about this threat in just a few months.”

  Catapults. The thought was accompanied by a thin whistling sound that indicated its source—Taleus, the six-hundred-year-old ancestor whose spirit had accidentally attached itself to Vatar years ago. It was also supplemented by an image of a large device capable of throwing boulders a respectable distance. Catapults on the headlands guarding the bay could take out the enemy ships, Taleus continued.

  Vatar looked around the group. “Taleus has an idea for something that might help us defend the mouth of the bay.” He looked at Arcas. “Is there another good cove or bay in the area? Somewhere our ships could anchor outside a possible blockade.”

  Arcas started to shake his head. “No . . . Well, I don’t think so. But I’m one of the few merchants whose trade doesn’t depend on the sea. I’ll check with my guild. I need to warn them about this anyway.”

  Yes, the Merchants’ Guild would be one of the first affected by a naval attack on the city, but it was a concern for all of them. Supplies of charcoal and iron for the Smiths’ Guild, for example. Not to mention foods not grown in Caere. “Of course. I need to warn my guild master, too.” It was a relief to have something to do. Anything. And at least a few ideas that might be of use. Vatar sighed. “And I’d be surprised if Father didn’t ‘invite’ me to speak with the High Council, as well.”

  “We need to warn the Valson Council, too,” Teran said. “I know it’s a long way, but how long do you think it would take—?”

  Vatar held up a hand to interrupt the other man. “I’d love to be able to warn Pa and the Dardani, too. They’ll be much closer to the first onslaught. But it’s almost winter. Even I wouldn’t attempt to ride across the plains at this time of year. It’s a four or five-day ride in good weather to where the Dardani would be this time of year. And then there’d be all of the Great Forest to cross—and the mountains beyond.”

  Teran opened his mouth to argue.

  Thekila sat forward. “Even if you could make the journey this late, Teran, the Pass would be closed with snow long before you could get there. Fortunately, that’s not the only avenue available to us. Theklan is already there. We can warn him and he can pass the information on. Much faster that way, too.”

  Vatar grimaced. For all the good it would do. Theklan had proved himself a man among the Dardani, but the Valson would still see only a fifteen-year-old boy.

  “Surely you don’t object to warning Theklan,” Thekila said.

  “Of course not. He has a right to know. It’s just . . . how likely do you think it is that anyone in authority in the Valley will really listen to him?”

  Thekila drew in a breath, tacitly conceding the point. “All we can do is try. For now.”

  Vatar nodded. “Not that I think it’ll make any difference, anyway. The Valson aren’t prepared to fight. If we don’t stop the Exiles before they get to the Valley, the Valson don’t have a chance. Still, whether or not the Valson Council listens to him, Theklan needs to be warned.”

  Teran clasped his hands before him on the table. “Depressing assessment. But probably accurate.”

  Arcas stood up from the table. “We have a lot of work to do before sailing season. Best get started.”

  ~

  Vatar and Arcas started down the hill to the city to inform their respective guild masters. Teran and Terania accompanied them—Teran to go back to the Archives and his research, Terania to the class she helped coach in the meditation and calming techniques that assisted in the use of magic.

  Vatar stopped at the bend in the road which gave a view down over the city below—and the bay beyond. This was where he usually sped up and averted his eyes so he didn’t have to look out at the water. He stared at the wall, which encircled the city proper—at least on the landward side—pierced by only two gates. “With that wall and even a small defense force, I think Caere could hold out against an attack from the land.” He swept his arm around the surrounding farms. “The farmers would have to shelter inside the walls, of course. But there’s room for them and more.” He shook his head. “But the city is completely open to the bay—and the ocean beyond.” He stared for a moment more, studying the headlands on either side of the mouth of the bay. “Teran, I want you to do something for me.”

  The other man stopped and looked at Vatar. “If I can.”

  “When you go to the Archives, find whatever you can about catapults,” Vatar said.

  “Catapults?” Teran asked.

  Vatar shrugged. “It’s an idea of Taleus’s. He gave me an image of some kind of large . . . device capable of slinging heavy stones. He thinks catapults on the headlands could protect the harbor. But I don’t know anything about catapults, how they’re made, how to work one, what they can do. If Taleus knows about them, though, there’s a good chance there’s something in the Archives.”

  Teran nodded. “I’ll look for whatever I can find that may help, starting with catapults.”

  Vatar was silent the rest of the way downhill to the Temple Gate, thinking. Not just about catapults. Even though he knew better, he felt at least partly responsible. Yes, it was clear that Nertan and Wartan had been planning something long before Vatar came along. No, the initial confrontation with Loran and his friends that had ultimately led to their exile was not, in any sense, Vatar’s fault. Still, if he hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t killed Keran—even in self-defense—then the Exiles would be much less interested in attacking either Caere or the Dardani.

  And if any of this was in any way his fault, then it was his responsibility to do what he could to stop it. And not just by coming up with ideas or consulting Taleus’s ancient knowledge. Not just by fighting—though he’d do that, too. With a cold sense of certainty and truth he’d learned to associate with Fore Sight, he knew he’d have to do some things he didn’t want to do, some things he’d refused to consider.

  With a deep, indrawn breath, he strode forward. Whatever it took, to see his city, his people, and his family safe, he’d do it.

  They split up just inside the Temple Gate, each going toward their different destinations.

  Chapter 4: Dissension

  Vatar gained admittance to his guild master soon after reaching the Smiths’ Guild Hall and then recounted what he’d learned that morning. He didn’t raise the issue of catapults. Not yet. He’d like to know more himself before throwing out suggestions. “The Fasallon High Council already knows about this, of course,” he finished.

  The Guild Master snorted dismissively. “Much good that will do. This doesn’t sound like something they can lie their way out of. And, obviously, they can’t actually call on the Sea Gods to help us.”

  Vatar closed his eyes and drew in a deep steadying breath. A little more than a month ago, when he’
d revealed the Lie to his Guild Master—that the Fasallon were not, in fact, either the Caereans’ Sea Gods or descended from them, as they’d claimed—he’d known there’d be repercussions. He hadn’t planned on them falling during a crisis. Now, of all times, the guilds and the Fasallon had to work together against this threat. The guilds did most of the day-to-day business of running the city. Besides being the nominal rulers, the Fasallon were the ones who could communicate with the other cities farther up the coast and with Tysoe to the south without the need of ships. And the only ones with magic to help defend the city against magic. Both were needed.

  Since he’d precipitated this problem, he had to do his best to find a way to fix it. But how was he going to make that happen? “Whatever they’ve done in the past, the Fasallon have as much at stake in this as we do. And they still have the only trained fighting force in Caere. They’ll fight for Caere, too.”

  The Guild Master shrugged. “So will we all. I’ll have to inform my counterparts.”

  “The Merchants’ Guild Master already knows. My cousin Arcas went to inform him at the same time I came to you.”

  The Smiths’ Guild Master nodded. “Then I’ll start by talking to him.” He paused. “You’d better come, too. I think we’ll need to call an emergency meeting of the Guild Council. If the Merchants’ Guild Master hasn’t already.”

  ~

  As they crossed the market square on the way to the Merchants’ Guildhall, Vatar noticed a different tone to the crowds. The square was usually filled with people moving briskly from one stall to another, with mostly a business-like atmosphere. Now, there was a dangerous feeling, people grumbling and muttering to one another, and less bustle. Worse even than during the shortages of a year ago, caused by Kausalya’s disruptive tariffs and trade bans. He was reasonably certain he knew the reason, too.