Being shot at was the last straw for the Unwaari soldiers and they broke ranks. While they were out of control, shooting wildly at anything that moved, and the courtiers making a concerted dash for the other side of the square, Basil intensified his efforts. Now the singers were targeting him, hitting his shield with fire and ice, water and buffeting winds. He felt the drain on his power, but one by one, the town mages came in and added their energy to his. Slowly, the drain stopped, then reversed, until his in- and output balanced. As his spell strengthened the darkness below him growled and a lone lightning flash crashed down amid the running soldiers. Basil let go of his spell.
A thunderclap shook even the stones of the castle as the storm broke. Lightning crashed down, leaping from man to man, sparing singer nor soldier. The mighty elephant proved it was a real animal, as it trumpeted in panic, threw its rider and bolted. For a moment it looked about to enter the town’s main street, but before it reached the houses, a loud boom rolled out from the Magonaut and a 32-pounder ball cut the hapless beast down. Basil only saw it with half an eye as he wrestled to keep the raging storm in position, catching as many enemies as he could reach. Behind him, one by one, the local magicians failed. As they collapsed where they stood, Basil felt his energy levels lower. Last of all, old Dori gave up and sank to the floor.
This is it, Basil thought. Damn, I haven’t got them all. Then he, too, fell.
Downstairs in the hall, Maud saw the lightning falter and stop.
‘There are some soldiers left,’ Wargall said with a happy smile.
‘You’re not getting them all, glutton. We want some, too.’ Maud turned to the guards. ‘Our turn, folks,’ she said, cool as a commander should be. ‘I count twenty, that’s doable. Draw your swords.’
The sight of the lightning killing those feared singers and soldiers had woken a quiet determination in the townspeople, and no one protested at the unexpected order. Maud pointed her blade. ‘At them!’ she yelled.
‘M’Arrangh!’ Wargall called at her side. ‘For M’Arrangh and the Kell. On to glory!’ They ran into the square, followed by Rebeca and her folks.
‘Vanhaari!’ the girl screamed. ‘Freedom begins today!’
‘Freedom!’ someone echoed, and others took it over as they ran.
Maud jumped at a grizzled soldier with a tiny bit of plume on his helm. The man was tough, a veteran, and for a while he held her at bay.
‘Give up, Corporal,’ Maud said. ‘You can’t win.’
‘Never, woman,’ the man said simply. ‘The old guard won’t surrender. Aera is waiting for me.’ He lunged.
His move surprised Maud, but she managed to block his blow. Then the man died.
The lioness shook her head and turned to the next. No common soldier, this, but a giant in a lionskin. He was as black as she, tattooed over his whole, mighty body.
‘I waited for you, deviant,’ he said, showing his filed teeth. ‘You who presume to wear lionskin, as if you were a man. I am a Kell warrior, woman. Not some overgrown bitch.’ He lunged with his spear, searing her side, and she bit back a growl.
‘I’ll skewer you piecemeal,’ he said in triumph. Again, he jumped, but this time she was prepared and as she sprang away, her sword hit the side of his head. He made a lion’s roar deep in his throat and his spear flashed in a series of lunges she could barely parry.
‘Fear me,’ the man said, his cruel face wet with sweat. He began to sing, one of the old hunting songs Maud remembered sharing with Wargall. She shook her head to dispel the hypnotic effects and now she saw an opening. Her big sword flashed, and the man roared for real as its tip laid open his chest.
‘You dare!’ he said, baring his filed teeth in a wild grimace. Then he sprang up and forward in a lion’s attack. But Maud caught him on her sword and held her stance, absorbing the weight of the warrior as his blood streamed all over her. He looked at her, his eyes stupefied.
‘You talk too much, male. Your time is past,’ she said. He opened his mouth as if to answer, and then the light in his eyes went out. Nonchalantly, she flipped the dead warrior on his back and pulled her sword from his body. Her knees buckled, and she felt blood running down her side. Strong hands around her stopped her from falling.
‘It’s over,’ Wargall said. ‘Lioness, we won.’
Around them, the guards cheered, and she nodded.
‘Call me Maud. You’ve earned it.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the boy said. ‘They’re coming with a stretcher.’
‘I’ll walk. It is but a scratch.’ Then she passed out.
CHAPTER 33 - RECOVERED IDENTITIES
‘It’s somewhat more than a scratch,’ the healer said. ‘I sewed it up for you, but it will leave an ugly scar.’ He stared at his fingers and his forehead wrinkled. ‘I’m sorry for the seam’s crookedness. My hands shake, and my head feels shrunken to the size of an olive. I, too, was with the Spellwarden today.’
They were in the familiar surroundings of her cabin on board the Magonaut. Maud swung her legs over the edge of her cot and stood up. ‘It still works,’ she said. ‘You did a good job, healer. Thank you.’ She didn’t feel like roaring, but she was too restless to stay in bed. ‘Where are the others?’ Where’s Jurgis? He wasn’t here when she awoke, and somehow she felt let down by his absence.
‘The Spellwarden and Master Jurgis are in the great cabin. The Spellwarden will recover; he just needs a lot of sleep. Master Jurgis, though...’ He hesitated and Maud’s heart faltered. Oh gods!
‘I thought he was all right,’ she said, trying desperately to appear calm. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘A singer shot at him. The blast hit the stonework, and he got a hail of gravel in his face. He passed out and dropped from the battlements into the courtyard. Luckily, his flying spell slowed his fall. His face is badly cut. I believe he is under a permanent healing spell, and that’ll make some scars fade. But not all, Lioness. They close fast and he will be up and about after he’s had more sleep. His face will remain terribly scarred, though.’
‘I’ll go to him,’ Maud said, sighing with relief. Only scars. ‘What’s the score? Did we suffer many losses?’
The healer turned to face her. ‘Under the circumstances ...’
‘Well?’
He sighed. ‘Of the townspeople, three died from irreparable wounds and some seven suffered injuries but will recover. Of the mages, one woman didn’t wake up. She was elderly, and her heart had given out.’
‘Not Dori?’
The healer smiled. ‘Not she! The mistress is of warlock stock. It would take more than today’s efforts to hurt her. You’ll find her with the Spellwarden; she rarely leaves his bedside.’
‘I’ll join her, then,’ Maud said.
‘Allow me to walk with you. I wouldn’t have you stumble or anything like that.’
After the first few feet, Maud was secretly glad for his presence. She could walk, but she was weaker than she had thought.
‘You lost a lot of blood,’ the healer said, when she had to pause halfway. ‘Sleep and plenty of red meat will restore your strength quickly enough. You’re not the only one, so Master Isaac has sent out hunters already.’
‘Isaac?’ Maud said, surprised. She had the merchant down as all talk and no action.
Apparently the healer had guessed her thoughts, for his smile broadened. ‘He’s been organizing. Collecting the fallen, calling up all available hands to clean up the streets, putting the prisoners to work.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s amazing what winning a battle can do.’
Encouraging, Maud thought. Like those town guards, perhaps they just need a push to get moving.
They entered the captain’s cabin, and found both Basil and Jurgis side by side in the double bed. The Spellwarden was sitting up, talking with old Dori.
Jurgis lay beside him, eyes closed, and his face a mass of red lines. They looked a week old already, several fading. Only the deepest were still flaming red welts. He opened his eyes as she entered and
a look of fear crossed his face. She hurried to him, till a pang in her side reminded her to move with care.
‘I look awful,’ he said. ‘Ugly.’
She studied his face impassively. ‘You look like a warrior. They’re honorable scars, love.’
His eyes searched her face. ‘Repulsive,’ he said. ‘I know; I’ve seen them in the mirror.’
‘Not repulsive; they’re signs of bravery. I’m proud of you, love.’
‘You are?’
He looked so defenseless that tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Gods, I love you; scars be damned.’
He sighed. ‘Then all is well.’
‘I told you so,’ Basil said. ‘You’re not ugly, brother. They are manly, tough-looking. You did a damned dangerous job, dropping those bombs. It’s well those singers didn’t look up earlier.’
Jurgis grimaced. ‘I knew it was stupid to stay so close by, but I wanted to see the battle.’ His hand sought Maud’s and gripped. ‘I was careless, dammit.’ A sobbing sigh escaped him. ‘Well, what’s done is done. Mistress Dori, you were about to tell us of our family?’
The old witch shook herself and returned from a place in the past. ‘Yes. When I look at you and your brother, I see those others. You two look like them, only you are much more—rarefied, I’d say. Less down-to-earth. I was telling you about Spellstor. That was your grandfather. Jurgis, the Prince-warlock of Spellstor.’
Maud felt her lover’s hand twitch between her fingers.
‘I’m called after my grandfather?’ he said, stupefied.
‘You weren’t an accident, brother.’ Basil was serious. ‘For some reason Father must have planned both of us. Dammit, he’s devious enough for it.’
Dori hadn’t listened. ‘I was born at Spellstor Center, over a century ago. My father was a warlock, working on a secret project, together with several Unwaari mages. Center was a large place, with many towers. Over a thousand people from both nations lived and worked there. Spellstor Proper was the home of the Spellstor family. Jurgis, the Prince-warlock, was nominal ruler of Vanhaar. Saul was his brother, and Presidor of the center. Basil was the elder son and Spellwarden, Argyr was the younger and Warden of Winsproke. They were good people; it was a happy place. Argyr was, well, he was a handsome young man of my age. I wasn’t a warlock myself; my ambitions lay elsewhere, so I became a witch.’ She paused for a moment, caught up in her memories.
‘Then the war came. Without warning, the Unwaari armies swept across the border and the first place they attacked was Spellstor. They razed it with an incomprehensible hatred. The Spellstor himself, his brother and his eldest son fell that day. Nobody knew why the Unwaari attacked us. I think that the agony of not understanding stopped your grandfather’s heart. For he died alone, on the top of his tower, overlooking the destruction of his life’s work.
‘My father fell defending his own department, and Mother and I fled to Casterglade, the other center. My father’s work had been closely connected with what was done here, a means for instant transport.’
‘Portals,’ Jurgis said. ‘We heard about them.’
Dori nodded. ‘Yes. Casterglade was the place all the warlocks fled to. Thousands of them, many of them old and physically feeble. Our birthrate was never high, you know, so young warlocks were a minority. Argyr was one of the youngest. He arrived shortly after us, to save what he could. Which wasn’t much, I’m afraid. He tried to rally those senile old men, but their fear besotted them and they refused to listen. Then the Unwaari came and within hours, they had Casterglade surrounded. Again, Argyr tried to bring some sort of order into the chaos, and again the other warlocks rebuffed him. He stopped his efforts when the attack started. It was horrendous. You boys fly a broom, but they came on carpets. A mass of carpets, each carrying several singers raining down fire and ice, hail and lightning. Much like Basil did today. It was a disaster. Some warlocks tried to fight back–Argyr was one of them–but most panicked. There was a run on the house and the few portals out of Vanhaar. The main gates were locked, though, and that stopped them for the moment, or they would’ve entered and crushed the portals in their panic. For the third time, Argyr strove for an orderly retreat, again to no avail. I was out of the masses, out of the carpets’ reach on a nearby rooftop, but I could see the anger and frustration on his face as those old men ignored him. Finally he seemed to realize he couldn’t save them, for in disgust, he turned around. He gathered the people who had followed him and disappeared through a side door.’
Dori sighed. ‘That’s when my mother and I left. There was no hope of us getting near a portal, so we departed on foot. The Unwaari didn’t try to stop us; we weren’t warlocks and were beneath their notice. After much wandering, we ended up here. The Unwaari had ruined the town and most of the port, and their garrison commander strictly forbade any repairs. My mother died soon after and I stayed, working as a healer and a teacher. I had to keep my magic a secret, but I knew enough to be useful and over the years I gathered those with potential and taught them what arts I know. Some proper warlocks would be a godsend.’ She put a hand on Basil’s arm. ‘Tell me, how many warlocks escaped? A thousand? Two thousand? More?’
‘One hundred,’ Basil said. It wasn’t a blow he could soften.
The old witch sat motionless. ‘One hundred. Out of ten thousand. They all died.’ A tear ran down her face. ‘And now? The numbers must have grown?’ She almost begged affirmation, but Basil could only shake his head.
‘The high king forbade it. The local populace felt scared of our power. Our perceived power. They forced us to stay at the original number.’
All were silent for a moment. ‘Well, at least you are back,’ Dori said with forced cheerfulness. ‘We can start anew, spread out and rebuild.’
‘And so we will,’ Basil said. ‘We’ll get the Unwaari out and then we’ll start multiplying.’
Beside him, Jurgis gave a bark of laughter. ‘Who’s going to carry the baby? Yarwan or you?’ Then he was serious again. ‘Mind you, we’re not going on with that birthmother obscenity.’
Basil touched his shoulder. ‘We won’t, brother.’ Then he grinned. ‘If I must, I’ll impregnate a thousand girls. But I’m not going to marry them.’
‘Marry a thousand girls? I hope not,’ Maud said. ‘I suggest we wait before we start making babies. We’re not there yet. Next step is Kelwarg.’
At this, Dori turned to Maud, her face full of unbelief. ‘So it’s true. Noah said you were after him, but I thought he had misunderstood. No one can go against the Black Warlock and live.’
‘He is human,’ Basil said. ‘That means he can make mistakes. We’ll never know peace as long as he is around. Look how he corrupts the Kells. Maud’s people, at great pain and upset, did away with the shamans and their murderous ways. Here, it seems they are stimulated in their perversions. No, mistress, if we and our Kell friends want a normal life, Kelwarg must go.’
‘Thank you, Basil,’ Maud said, and she meant it.
‘You’re welcome, dear,’ Basil said airily. ‘Besides, the fellow annoys me.’
Jurgis sat up in bed, grimacing at the pull on his scars. ‘Now where will we seek that tower of his? I bet it’s in an impossible place that will take us months to reach.’
‘Your flippancy makes me feel my age,’ Dori said. ‘All right, Spellwarden, I accept your reasoning. Master Jurgis, this once, Fate might be kind to you. Kelwarg’s tower Bitter’ights isn’t difficult to reach. No one goes there, but it’s quite easy. You see that river leading north? It’s the Tome, and it reaches here all the way from the Temperiol Ridges. It springs from the cold waters of Lake Bitter. There stands Kelwarg’s tower. You can sail all the way to his front door. Not with your big ship, but perhaps the Witch and certainly the dhows.’
‘That’s neat,’ Jurgis said, with a painful smile. ‘This once we don’t have to walk.’
‘Temperiol Ridges ...’ Basil said. ‘I remember that name. Troll country.’
‘True,’ Dori said. ‘Kelwarg i
sn’t the only reason no one ever goes there.’
‘Only we will,’ Basil said drowsily, and yawned.
Immediately, Dori rose. ‘I’ll leave you now. You should sleep, young gentlemen. And you too, Lioness. You must be in good shape to beard Kelwarg.’ With a curious little bow, she left.
‘What a lot to think of,’ Jurgis said. ‘Spellstor. Me bearing Grandfather’s name, you heir to the country, our father’s attempts to save his people at that Casterglade place–I see it all a lot different now.’
‘Great,’ mumbled his brother vaguely, and then he snored.
‘Sleep, dearest,’ Maud said. ‘And remember I love you.’
‘You too,’ Jurgis sighed.
Smiling, the lioness went back to her own bed.
CHAPTER 34 - TOWER MEETING
It was the third day after her escape from the cage wagon. Wemawee had spent every waking hour in the saddle, riding through almost deserted lands. She was by no means a fanciful girl, and to her the many ruins she passed were just that. No lamenting ghost came out to greet her, no fallen tower whispered of buried treasure. Still, even she wasn’t impervious to the loneliness and the desolation, and by now she longed for a human face. The Vanhaari villages she’d found on her way reacted with enmity and armed aggression to a mounted Kell, and after the first two encounters, she’d avoided them.
She passed through a rolling land of high grasses, alive with rabbits and strange predator birds. Once, in the distance, she’d seen a flying animal that could have been a wyrm. The crude map proved accurate enough, even to the small river she was now following westward. It should meet with a lake and there would be Kelwarg’s tower. With every step of her mount, her uncertainty grew. Was she doing the right thing? Kelwarg ... She had been helpless in the hands of that other shaman, and he was as nothing compared to the Black Warlock. Yet something within her drove her on. Kelwarg had dominated her dreams ever since her first bleedings. His power, his masculinity had been a magnet, forcing her to hurt and belittle poor Wargall and betray the queen’s trust.
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