‘I understand that,’ said Farred, unconvinced. ‘But Inge isn’t a simple mistress,’ he said, glancing briefly at Gustav. ‘She has powers. I fear she has some control over him.’
Gustav twitched his mouth. It was now his turn to look uncomfortable. ‘Inge has power, yes. Is she using her magic on Baldwin? Perhaps,’ he admitted. ‘But women have ever sought to beguile men, whether they are magic users or not. And men—’ the archmage paused, struggling for the right words. ‘Sometimes they want to be beguiled. That is what I believe is happening between Baldwin and Inge.’
‘If your concerns remain,’ said Walter, studying Farred’s reaction, ‘know two things. I have already sent messengers out to all the dukes of Brasingia, warning them that they will soon receive imperial orders to raise an army and take it to Burkhard Castle. And now, Gustav and I ride straight for Essenberg, where we intend to persuade Baldwin to send out such an order. Have faith in my brother. He has always done what is right.’
Belwynn and Lyssa left their room for the other side of the castle, where the chapel was located.
You have it? she asked Soren, desperate for some good news.
Sort of, he replied. The Jalakh priests have made it. They need to finish it before we’re allowed to take it.
Alright. Come as quick as you can. We need you here.
We will.
Right. Now it was time for her news.
Soren, there’s something else.
Yes?
I can sort of speak like this to someone else now. Since Elana died. I can speak with Madria.
Silence. Soren probably thought she had lost her mind. Had she?
You’re speaking telepathically to Madria?
Yes. It’s more feelings, and ideas, than words. Maybe this was what Elana experienced, why she thought she knew what to do but was vague on the details.
Are you sure? What I mean to say is, are you sure it is her and not someone else in your mind? Remember, in Samir Durg, Siavash was able to enter my mind and talk to me.
Yes, it’s her. I’m positive. Well—I’m pretty sure it’s her.
Belwynn, just be careful. Don’t do anything hasty. I’m going to come back as fast as I can.
Alright Soren. Bye.
See you soon Belwynn.
Don’t be hasty. That was easier said than done. A monster was on the loose in Kalinth. It had already killed the two most important people in Heractus. Now Prince Straton and Galenos, the former Grand Master of the Knights, were busy raising an army for it. Doing nothing just wasn’t an option.
They walked into the chapel, usually reserved for the royal family. Today it was needed by the Knights, for a ceremony that would normally have been conducted at the High Tower. It was meant to be a celebration, though Belwynn had mixed feelings about it.
Pages guided them to their seats near the stage. Belwynn found herself next to Philon, the young sandy haired knight who had first approached her for a blessing last summer. He had been rising up the ranks quickly since that day.
‘My lady,’ he said politely. The nervous knight from last summer had been replaced by a man of quiet confidence, Belwynn noticed. It had been less than a year, but they had all changed since then.
Belwynn peered to the front where a group of six young men—children, some of them—were kneeling on the floor.
‘There he is, Lyssa,’ she said, pointing out Evander, his broad back and neck length dark hair allowing her to identify him.
Lyssa stood up and looked over. She sucked in a breath.
‘We don’t call out to him, remember,’ Belwynn said quickly, causing the girl to sit back down with a grumpy expression.
‘Theron says these squires owe much to your efforts on the training ground,’ Belwynn said to Philon.
‘Some,’ he agreed modestly, ‘though it varies. Certainly, young Evander has been well trained by Grand Master Theron himself. I could add very little to what Evander already knew.’
Grand Master Theron was a title Belwynn struggled to get used to, for many reasons. It was a title she thought she would always associate with Sebastian, and it sounded strange attached to anyone else—even Theron, who surely deserved it. Then, of course, it represented the end of their brief affair. The Grand Master devoted himself to the Order. Like all knights, he could have no wife. Belwynn’s little dream, that Theron would leave the Order for her, was over.
As she was thinking of him, Theron appeared on the stage, with King Jonas. The king looked older than when she had first met him—face puffy, muscled torso now partly turned to fat. She wondered what Jonas thought of recent events. His two sons escaped from the capital, raising an army against his captors. Had he heard the rumours that his youngest, Dorian, was no longer Dorian at all? That he was a monster? She felt a pang of grief for Dorian, almost forgotten amidst her deeper pain at the loss of Elana. He had seemed a gentle, benign soul. He hadn’t deserved such a fate.
The chapel quietened, and Theron spoke a few words of introduction to the knighting ceremony. The congregation hung on his every word. There had been no dissent whatsoever to Theron’s elevation to the head of the Order from the men who had worked and fought with him over the last few months. He was the obvious choice—in truth, he had been the driving force behind their achievements, albeit too willing to take on the unpopular tasks to spare his uncle from them. But out in the country, opinion was more divided. He wasn’t as universally respected as Sebastian had been. And he had a formidable rival in the former Grand Master, Galenos. That made the choice of who to give loyalty to more difficult. It made the option of avoiding making a choice at all, the easiest course to follow.
This ceremony was all about addressing that problem. With the loyalty of some in the Order in doubt, Theron was making new knights. Belwynn didn’t like it. Evander was far too young and inexperienced to be knighted, to go into battle with Theron and Tycho. But she knew that Theron was desperate, that he needed all the manpower he could get.
And so, Evander and five other youths well short of the usual age, were called up one at a time to the stage, where they knelt in front of their grand master and their king. First, Theron delivered the blow, a cuff on the side of the head, landing from ear to neck. Then, Jonas lifted his sword and tapped the flat of the blade once on each shoulder. The Order had lost six squires and gained six knights.
After the ceremony, Belwynn and Lyssa joined a circle of people congratulating Evander and the other boys. Theron and Tycho were there, beaming with pride; Tycho punching each boy on the arm several times in pleasure.
Bemus approached her, his long face as serious as ever.
‘We are ready when you are,’ he said, as if passing down a death sentence.
Theron grabbed her elbow. ‘Good luck.’
‘Evander says he will look after me,’ said Lyssa, in a blatant attempt to avoid being taken down to the temple, where she would doubtless be made to do chores.
Belwynn was about to tell her no, when she caught Theron’s stern gaze. She stopped herself. Evander was a knight now: it would be disrespectful to imply that he wasn’t capable of protecting Lyssa.
‘Of course,’ she said. She made her excuses and followed Bemus out of the room.
Belwynn steeled herself to enter the main chamber of the temple, which just two days before had held the funeral service for Elana.
I’m not sure I can do this, she said to Madria, the new voice in her head.
You have a unique gift, Belwynn, Madria replied, the thought appearing in Belwynn’s mind rather than the words themselves. It is time you used it to its full potential.
The heads of Elana’s congregation turned to look at her as she followed Bemus up the central aisle. Some smiled supportively; some didn’t. She was known to most as Elana’s second disciple, the organiser who used to decide which patient had priority. To others she was the Lady of the Knights, the woman who lived up at the castle. These people had idolised Elana, followed her every word. Belwynn wasn’t s
ure what they thought of her. Or how they would react when she tried to claim leadership of the movement.
Bemus said a few words, his voice a comforting drone. The man already thought of himself as the new leader, she knew. Not that he saw her as an enemy—just less equipped to lead than he was.
Bemus retired to a seat on the front pew. All eyes turned to Belwynn.
She thought of her gift, then, as she prepared herself to use it once more. Her telepathy. She had been able to speak with Soren like that since they were very young—neither could recall exactly how or when it had started. Belwynn had always assumed it was because Soren could do magic. That it was because of him. Then she thought of her singing, how she could use it to connect with and touch an audience, sending them into a collective stupor. What if the telepathy and the singing were, in fact, the same thing? What if her ability to speak to Soren’s mind was down to her, not him?
She looked out at Elana’s flock and a feeling of serenity descended on her.
‘I bring a message from Madria,’ she said, projecting her voice to the very back of the chamber.
She was met with a range of expressions. Surprise. Doubt. Scorn.
She concentrated.
It’s just the same as singing, Belwynn, she told herself.
I bring a message from Madria, she said.
Gasps of fear and shock filled the chamber. People looked at one another, desperate to know whether they had shared the same experience.
Belwynn’s voice in their head.
Bemus slipped from his pew to his knees, his long body crumpling.
‘Tell us her message!’ he pleaded.
Revenge
XXI
THERON SAYS WE NEED TO FIGHT them now, Belwynn said to Soren.
Despite trying to explain to him how much the situation in Kalinth had changed, Soren didn’t seem to fully understand. He counselled her against hasty decisions, asking her to stay where she was.
We have the bow now, he said again. We’ll be there in a matter of days.
Get here as soon as you can, she asked him. We’re leaving today. We can’t afford to wait and let them grow any stronger.
Alright, said Soren, sounding disappointed that he hadn’t dissuaded her, anxious about her claims that she was in communication with Madria. We’ll get there as soon as we can. Look after yourself.
Barely a soul remained in Heractus, as the army assembled in the fields outside the city walls. Belwynn had emptied the city, recruiting its people to her cause using her gift of telepathy, magnified by Madria’s power. Already believers, thanks to Elana’s work, they now submitted themselves to Belwynn’s instructions, who told them that this was a battle that simply had to be won.
The Temple of Madria had been left in the hands of those too aged or too young to join the army. Much to the girl’s disappointment, Lyssa was amongst them. She had tried to persuade Belwynn how useful she would be to the army, but Belwynn had put her foot down. She couldn’t afford to worry about the girl’s whereabouts on top of everything else. Men, women, and those not old enough to be called either, were now ready to fight and die for this cause. Madria told Belwynn that it was necessary, that there was no guilt; no sin involved. Belwynn wanted to believe that.
Theron was grateful, for she had solved his ever-present problem, the lack of an infantry force. He led the cavalry part of the army, the Order of the Knights of Kalinth, or at least those knights who had chosen him over Galenos.
More soldiers had come in from the countryside to swell their force. Theron’s estates in Erisina had been stripped of men of fighting age; likewise Sebastian’s estate of Melion, which Theron had now inherited from his uncle. Theron’s friend Tycho, the new owner of the estate of the traitor, Count Ampelios, had arrived back only yesterday, after raising a force from his new lands. Finally, Leontios, the young knight who had been tasked with defending the eastern border out of Korkis, had been recalled with his forces.
It was desperate times, the country left completely undefended. If the Kharovians or Drobax should descend from the north, they would find no-one to halt their passage to Heractus. Belwynn had asked Theron whether it would have been better to wait behind the walls of Heractus and see whether Straton’s army materialised, but Theron had ruled that out. His knights needed to fight out in the open. He had described a scenario where they were stuck in the city, the rest of Kalinth taken by their enemies, starving and forced to eat their horses for food. The image had done its job of persuading her that they needed a battle.
So they marched for the south-west of the country. Philon returned to the army to pass on the information that his scouts had collected. Reports said the enemy army was led by the princes, Straton and Dorian. They could only assume that Dorian was the creature that had killed Elana and Sebastian. Many noblemen had flocked to the banner of the two young men, responding to their claims to leadership of Kalinth, their accusations against Theron, and the opportunity for advancement if they were successful. Galenos, formerly a prisoner at the High Tower, had allied with them, and many knights had chosen to fight with him. Diodorus, the Count of Korenandi, had added his soldiers as well, despite having fought with Theron only three weeks past. The enemy were growing in size, and this only reinforced Theron’s view that they needed to deal with them immediately. Hanging over their heads was the fear that they may soon face an even greater threat. The Isharites could turn their attention to Kalinth. If they were to stand any chance, they had to avoid further civil war.
They marched hard all day, not stopping until they had crossed the Pineos. This part of the country was controlled by their enemies, and Belwynn could sense tensions rising as Theron gave orders to make camp, ensuring that sufficient knights were put on watch to give them warning of an attack.
Without realising what she was doing, Belwynn found herself walking off the path, until she came to a flat piece of rock by the river. She placed a palm on its surface as tears came to her eyes.
She had come upon this rock once before, when another army of knights had marched from the High Tower to Heractus. She had sat here in the sunshine with Elana and Dirk, as the priestess had healed her first disciple. A group of young knights, led by Philon and Leontios, had approached and asked her to bless their swords. Elana and Dirk were both gone now. She would have to sit here alone.
When she sat down she saw a figure making its way from the camp to her location.
‘I thought I might find you here.’
Theron took a seat next to her and they sat together in silence for a while.
‘What are you thinking?’ she said at last.
‘Lots of things. Maybe I’ve made a terrible mistake. Would Kalinth be better off if I hadn’t started all this?’
‘No. We freed Soren. Moneva killed Erkindrix. They’ve got the Jalakh Bow. The Isharites will be defeated. Thanks to you.’
Theron smiled. ‘Thank you. I needed to hear that.’ He tapped his scabbard. ‘I seem to remember the Lady of the Knights giving out blessings here. Maybe she could bless this poor knight’s sword? I think I will need to use it tomorrow.’
‘Of course. But you think we will fight them tomorrow?’
‘Yes. Neither of us will give ground. There’s an inevitability to it now.’
‘You need to tell me what you want Madria’s soldiers to do. And there’s something else.’
Theron looked at her, one eyebrow rising inquisitively.
Belwynn stared into his eyes.
Can you hear me? She asked him.
Theron’s eyes widened. He frowned, concentrating.
Yes, he replied.
Belwynn smiled with pleasure. Although she could now communicate telepathically with Madria’s servants, none of them could talk back to her. But somehow, she had known that Theron would be able to.
‘Good,’ she said out loud. ‘When the battle starts tomorrow, you can tell me what to do.’
Soren! Belwynn tried one last time.
Where the
hell was he? Surely he wasn’t still asleep at this hour! Had something happened to him?
She couldn’t know, and she had to put it out of her mind. Because the enemy had been sighted, and it was time to fight.
From her location behind the army, Belwynn ordered Madria’s followers to their position. They marched, the flags showing the Winged Horse of Kalinth rippling in the breeze. They were to be the centre of the army, and they must not break. She communicated with them, reassuring them that whatever happened today, they had Madria’s grace.
On either side came the rest of those who would fight on foot, men drawn from the estates owned by Theron and Tycho. Some were trained—some were even former knights. But most had never fought before.
The elite fighters were the knights, who were all on horseback. Theron led the right flank, Tycho the left. Leontios had been given another rapid promotion, leading the small force of reserves. Evander, one of the newest knights, would fight at Theron’s side.
Move them forward fifty paces, Theron said to Belwynn from his position on the battlefield.
Their ability to communicate gave Theron an advantage in managing all these disparate forces.
Forwards, Belwynn relayed to her followers, and the Madrians walked in a disciplined line, gripping their spears, matching each other’s stride, until Belwynn called a halt. The leaders of the other infantry units had orders to follow the Madrians, and they now marched, stopping once they had drawn level.
Those with the best eyes pointed ahead. They could see the enemy army. Belwynn peered ahead, just about making out shapes moving on the horizon—the enemy units getting into formation.
How many? She asked Theron.
Less than we have.
It was what they had hoped. The Madrians gave them an advantage in numbers. And in the end, more knights had sided with Theron than with Galenos.
The Jalakh Bow Page 25
