Winter Be My Shield

by Spurrier, Jo

  The weather was worsening and the soldiers led them through a pall of driving snow that limited visibility to within a few hundred feet. Once they were beyond the perimeter of the camp Isidro surreptitiously glanced behind, trying to get a rough idea of how many men were under the general’s command but the soldier leading his horse growled a warning to keep his eyes ahead. He needn’t have bothered. The camp was already lost to the weather and Isidro couldn’t make out any more than a portion of it.

  The snow also hid the cave and it wasn’t until they were nearly on top of it that Isidro realised they had arrived. A dark scar of rubble and earth excavated from within had been dumped to stain the slope below the jagged crevice of the cave mouth, but already a scatter of snow was covering it. Once there must have been a proper path leading up to the entrance but now there was just a switchback track trampled into the snow, its twists and turns marked with mage-lights and flags of red cloth.

  As the soldiers led the horses away to a rough windbreak that sheltered them and the men watching over them, Delphine beckoned Isidro with an imperious gesture. ‘Attend, Aleksar,’ she said and started up the slope without looking around to see if he followed.

  Even with his improved condition the path was still a challenge for him. It was steep and narrow, threatening to crumble at the edges, and had been trampled by so many feet that the packed surface offered no grip to the felt soles of his boots. A rope strung between the marker posts tempted him with a hand-hold, but he had no way of knowing how deep the posts had been sunk and whether it would hold his weight. Delphine took pity on him and paused at each of the turns to give him a chance to rest, while pretending it was she who needed to catch her breath.

  When they reached the cave entrance at the top of the path Isidro paused to look out over the valley, shrouded beneath a thick haze of snow. Vasant had stood here, as had Cam’s ancestor, Leandra the Great; as had Sofera and Delcarion and countless others from a world that was now lost.

  ‘Come along,’ Delphine scolded him, but she entered the cave slowly, giving him a chance to absorb the sight.

  When clear the passage would have been wide enough to lead four horses abreast, although the edges of it were still choked with rubble. From outside the mouth of the cave appeared to be a natural feature, but within a few lengths the interior seemed more like a man-made structure than anything carved by nature. The natural caves Isidro had seen never conformed so conveniently to man’s dimensions. They were usually low and wide, more easily traversed on hands and knees than on two feet, and with floors that were a jumble of rock fallen from the cavern roof. This passage had a high ceiling and was more square in cross-section than oval. The walls were suspiciously smooth and upright, but it was the floor that was the least natural. It had been smoothed flat, then etched with a crosshatch of grooves that would give grip to smooth-soled boots, though these were currently filled in with grit and windblown snow.

  ‘The first thirty paces of this passage was filled with rock and rubble,’ Delphine informed him. ‘Some of the rocks were as big as an ox and they’d been fitted together like a stone wall. It must have taken months to fill it in without power to speed the work.’

  And yet the Akharian mages had cleared it in less than half a day.

  The days were growing longer as the seasons shifted towards spring, but the heavy clouds outside had turned the daylight dim and within twenty paces of the entrance the passage was as dark as night. Delphine pulled her lantern out of her satchel and set it glowing and Isidro did the same with the tiny lantern-stone he wore around his neck. The stone cast a pale yellow light around him, enough to let him avoid the cobbles and rocks still littering the floor.

  Thirty paces past the entrance the passage was clear as Delphine had said, except for a wooden trunk shoved against one wall. The wood was damp and crusted with what Isidro took at first glance to be salt, but something had been painted onto the lid and was still visible beneath the crust — a few lines of Ricalani script.

  ‘This is why I brought you here,’ Delphine said. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘“Searcher, here is what you seek,”’ Isidro said. ‘“Vasant’s books are gone to ashes. Here is all that remains.” There’s a name underneath it — “Leandra, first of that name, Queen of all the North.”’ He turned to Delphine. ‘What’s inside, madame?’

  ‘Take a look,’ she said, standing back with her arms folded across her chest.

  Isidro knelt down to lift the lid. The wood was soft and spongy under his hands. The air inside the caves was different, moist and humid. Before the blockage had been cleared and allowed the dry air of winter to mix in from outside it must have been even more so. The trunk had been made from one of the species of wood that resisted rot, but even so it was slowly decaying.

  The trunk was full of blackened and corroded shards of metal. Isidro lifted one out and held it up to the light. It was a thin shaft of green and crumbling bronze. He could make out the remains of decorative scrollwork and an oval fitting that would hold a cabochon stone. This one held nothing in the setting but others had the cracked and chalky remains of stones, which crumbled to powder at a touch; some of them bore flecks of gold amid the corroded metal. They had been the sort of metal fittings that would be affixed to the covers of valuable books and from the looks of it some had borne enchantments as well.

  ‘They burned them,’ Isidro said.

  ‘Or at least that’s what they wanted us to think,’ Delphine said. ‘Why would they close off the caves if they knew the books had been burned?’

  The unnaturally smooth and regular passage curved away from them into the rock. ‘This passage is mage-crafted,’ Isidro said. ‘Leandra wouldn’t have wanted future generations to speculate on what else mages could do.’ He turned the corroded fitting over in his hand and then placed it back with the others. ‘Even his enemies said Vasant was a brilliant man.’

  ‘So how could he have been stupid enough to leave his treasures where people of no talent at all would be able to find and destroy them?’

  ‘A decoy?’ Isidro said. There were soldiers standing guard at the entrance huddled in furs as they stood around a brazier. Delphine paid them no mind. She was too absorbed now to care what observers might think. There were men deeper in the caves, too. Their voices echoed along the passage, too diffuse to be understood but undoubtedly there. The Akharians hadn’t come all this way to be so easily discouraged.

  ‘I imagine a queen would be able to read Ricalani script,’ Delphine said. ‘Or her retainers could, if she was illiterate.’

  ‘A member of a ruling clan would know how to read,’ Isidro said.

  ‘So she wouldn’t have been fooled if Vasant had put the covers on other books,’ Delphine said.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Isidro said, thinking of the book Sierra had stolen from Kell. ‘Maybe there were enchantments locking them shut.’

  ‘Ah,’ Delphine said, with a faint smile. ‘Perhaps. Or perhaps the queen felt it was all too easy. Vasant could have concealed the books where none but another mage would have been able to find them. She must have been suspicious that she was able to get hold of them so easily. But she left the remains here anyway, to discourage anyone who did make it through that wall.’

  The voices in the passage were heading their way. Isidro gazed hungrily into the darkness. He wanted desperately to explore this place, but he knew it was now a privilege beyond his station.

  Harwin appeared around the curve of the passage holding his lantern high and raised his free hand in greeting when he saw them. ‘Delphi, you’re back. Good. They’ve found another one and they’re about to try and open it.’

  ‘Another one, sir?’ Isidro said.

  ‘We’ve found chambers hidden behind the walls,’ Delphine said. ‘If Vasant was as clever as they say he must have been smart enough not to put all his eggs in one basket. We may as well go and watch, but I’m not sure what we’ll find. The air in here is so damp I hate to imagine what state a bo
ok would be in after five years, let alone a hundred.’

  ‘Madame, aren’t there enchantments that can be used to prevent mould?’

  ‘By drying the air, you mean? There are, but they only last for a few days at most before needing to be renewed. Even if the Ricalani mages had some other technique I can’t imagine it would be so far ahead of ours that it could go without maintenance for a century. The cold would help preserve them, but unless they’re frozen solid this dampness would have reduced them to pulp by now …’

  The air was growing more humid as she led him deeper, insulated from the cold outside. It was likely the hot spring never froze over and constantly fed steam into the air trapped in the caves. Isidro tried to put himself in Vasant’s place and imagine his reasoning behind using these caves, when both of his enemies knew he’d spent so much time here. Surely he would have been better off concealing the books elsewhere?

  But where in Ricalan could one possibly leave something so fragile and vulnerable to the elements?

  Despite the thick blanket of snow and ice covering the land, winter was the driest time in Ricalan. The spring thaw brought floods and the summer brought rain. Folk had such a struggle keeping the things they used every day free of mould and mildew that winter cold and snow were something of a relief. Perhaps this was simply the best Vasant could come up with in the time he had.

  So, Vasant left books here for Leandra to find and let her believe she had destroyed the treasure. But she wasn’t the only one he expected to seek this place out — if he’d known of Barranecour then he had to have suspected the Akharians would be back one day. If he had left a decoy here to mislead Leandra, then surely he would have done the same for the imperial mages. Or perhaps something more than just a diversion, given that they intended to steal away the legacy he had left for his own people.

  Isidro stopped in his tracks. ‘By the Black Sun, it’s the bait in a trap.’

  Harwin and Delphine both turned to him. ‘What did you say?’ Delphine said.

  For a moment Isidro froze with indecision and cursed himself for speaking without thinking. The Akharians considered it the duty of a slave to protect his masters from harm, but given time to think about it Isidro doubted he would go to any effort to keep his captors from harm.

  But here he had done just that and blurted it out without a thought. The very fact that he had done such a thing suggested he was beginning to think of his captors as comrades. That realisation filled him with a sudden loathing and disgust. He was a traitor.

  ‘A trap?’ Delphine said. ‘What do you mean?’

  The words had been said and there was no calling them back. ‘Vasant knew people would come to search for the books. He left some for Leandra to find and he knew Barranecour meant to seek them out. Perhaps he left a decoy for your people as well?’

  ‘What sort of decoy?’ Harwin said. ‘He intended those books to be preserved. He wanted them to be found. There’s no point hiding them otherwise.’

  ‘Preserved, yes, but for Ricalani mages,’ Isidro said. ‘Vasant knew Barranecour would give him refuge and he chose to stay and die instead. He must have known the Akharians would be back. He didn’t go to all this effort just to have the spoils taken by Slavers.’

  Delphine frowned with a haughty lift of her chin. Isidro knew he had strayed perilously close to insolence but thankfully she was more concerned with his disclosure than his impertinence. ‘What sort of trap? How could he be sure it would be Akharians who set it off and not a fledgling Ricalani mage?’

  Before he could reply Isidro felt a pulse of power ripple through his body. Harwin and Delphine felt it too. They turned to the north and Harwin frowned while Delphine hissed a curse.

  ‘They were about to open one of them when I came to find you, Delphi,’ Harwin said.

  ‘By the Good Goddess! We need to stop them until we can investigate this more thoroughly!’

  She turned to the deeper reaches of the cave and broke into a run with Harwin on her heels, but they had gone only a few paces when another deep thrum of power reverberated through and around them.

  To Isidro it felt like being inside a bell when it was struck. The power filled his head and overwhelmed his mind and senses. His thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind; it sent a pulse of energy along his nerves ending in a burst of sensation that echoed back through him like, and yet completely unlike, one of Sierra’s shocks.

  Isidro stumbled and fell to his knees with bruising force. The lantern-stone around his neck flared like a falling star then died, along with the mages’ lanterns. For a moment they were in total and utter darkness, darker even than the most clouded night.

  In the passage ahead a light flared in the darkness. It began as a blossom of flame but within the space of a heartbeat it swelled and burst into a great jet of fire. It roared along the passage towards them, and through the ruddy light Isidro glimpsed dark shapes at its heart. Men cowered away from the flames, and the blast lifted them from their feet and hurled them against the walls. Amid the great roar of flame and power he heard human screams cut short at the moment of impact.

  The jet of flame seemed to bounce off the stone. Channelled by the cave walls, it cascaded towards them, as fast as a waterfall. Dazed by the power still echoing around his skull, Isidro could do nothing but watch, but the mages were quicker to act. Delphine and Harwin each cast a hasty shield across the tunnel.

  The jet of flame slammed against it with an impact that shook the rock around them. The shields bowed like a sheet in the wind. The mages, strained and grimacing with the effort, held them steady, pouring all their power into it.

  Then the flame vanished as quickly as it had come. Harwin let the shield drop and slumped against the preternaturally smooth wall, groping for a handhold that didn’t exist, as he slid in an ungainly heap to the floor. Delphine merely folded where she stood, crumpling limp and exhausted. They were both gasping as though they had been winded, but as the last of the shield evaporated Isidro could no longer see them. The cave had once again been plunged into absolute darkness.

  ‘Light!’ Delphine croaked. ‘Where is that Gods-be-damned lantern?’

  In the passage ahead of them someone was coughing and choking and a low voice lifted in a ragged call for help.

  Isidro felt for the cord around his neck and groped along it to the lantern-stone at the end. The bead always felt slick and warm with the fluttering tickle of power like the beat of a moth’s wings against his palm. Now it seemed dry and dead and left a fine film of powder on his hand.

  ‘Aleksar!’ Delphine demanded. ‘Where’s your lantern-stone?’

  ‘It’s dead, madame,’ he said. There was no sense of enchantment within the stone. He tried to activate it anyway, in case he was mistaken, but reaching for it was like reaching for something that wasn’t there. He was flailing in empty space.

  There was a stream of green-gold light off to his left. Harwin had created a globe of light like the ones Sierra often used, cupping it between his hands with shafts of light streaming through his fingers. A pall of dust and smoke hung in the air, and there was a revolting, sickly scent that Isidro found all too familiar. He pressed his hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to gag and retch. It was the smell of burning skin and hair. It took him back to Kell’s tent with Rasten standing over him with the hot poker reeking from the scorched skin of Isidro’s back.

  In the passage up ahead, someone began to scream.

  It only made his memories worse. Isidro turned away and tried to focus on something, anything to convince himself of the reality of the present and let him drive away the past. But his heart was pounding against his ribs and his throat was so tight he could hardly breathe.

  ‘Here,’ he heard Harwin say from somewhere very far away. ‘What’s wrong with the slave?’ He felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed as the healed scars on his back throbbed in sympathy. ‘Are you alright, man?’

  ‘Leave him be, Harwin. He is in shock. That blast probably ratt
led him like dice in a cup. Here, let’s move him out of the way.’ Together, they manoeuvred him to the edge of the passage, against the wall. Delphine crouched down to peer into his face. ‘Stay here,’ she ordered him. ‘Do not move until I return, or I’ll tan your hide. Do you understand me?’

  He thought he tried to nod but he couldn’t be certain. A moment later Harwin and Delphine were gone, heading into the deeper regions of the cave to give what help they could to the wounded.

  An age seemed to pass before Isidro was able to force those memories down and anchor himself firmly in the present, leaving him shaken, drained and exhausted. He wasn’t sure if he should be ashamed he had frozen up so badly in a crisis, or relieved he hadn’t been forced to help save the lives of the people who had enslaved him. He hadn’t felt this useless since he was a stripling boy who had just learned of his father’s death. Would it always be like this when small sensations could overwhelm him and sweep him back into those awful days? If so, then Rasten had crippled him twice over.

  Isidro waited for some hours while others dealt with the crisis. He watched in silence as the wounded and the dead were ferried out on makeshift stretchers. The ordinary soldiers had been defenceless against the blast unless they happened to be close to a mage who was able to shield them. A few mages who hadn’t been as quick or as focussed as Delphine and Harwin had failed to protect even themselves. Isidro heard later one Battle-Mage had died, probably knocked unconscious by the initial blast before he succumbed to the flames.

  When Delphine finally returned for him she was drawn and weary and beckoned him to his feet with an exhausted flap of her hand. Isidro was chilled and stiff, so drained that a wave of dizziness swept over him when he struggled to his feet.

  ‘You were right,’ she said. ‘It was a trap. A cursed vicious trap. We’ll be leaving the place under guard tonight and in the morning the academics will be working with the Battle-Mages to disarm the others. It looks like there could be as many as four or five of them scattered through these caves. Maybe more.’ She frowned, wrapping a strand of dark hair thoughtfully around her finger. ‘Are they all traps, do you think?’