Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy

by Rosemary Fryth

  “How goes the mage watch?” he asked softly.

  “Well,” Trevan replied in a low voice. “The ward seems to be holding, and there has been no repeat of the primal haunting of last night.”

  Aran nodded, “Good, do you know who takes the next watch after me?”

  “Your replacement will be Mage Theaua, followed by Mage Drayden for the deepest part of the night. There is a candle lit by the mage camp,” Trevan continued. “Its side is marked for the ten hour duration of the mage watch. When you think your watch is ending, check the candle and it will give you proof.”

  Aran stood stiffly and shrugged himself into his heavy fur lined cloak.

  “Get yourself some sleep Trevan,” he advised kindly. “I will keep this watch.”

  *

  Aran shivered and pulled his cloak closer about him. This close to midnight the air was cold indeed, and he thought briefly of returning to his saddlebags and hunting out his felted wool cap. For some reason it was much colder this night, indeed his breath frosted in the air before him. It must be the work of the mage ward, Aran figured. Not only was it warding this clearing against the primal hauntings, but seemed to be also warding it against the warmth and energies generated by the forest, keeping winter at bay. Aran stamped his feet against the grass, and prepared to pace again the perimeter of the clearing.

  *

  Aran paused, and stared intently into the dark and heavily overgrown forest. He was certain he had seen movement there only a moment before, but now the woodland seemed quiet and sleeping. Aran turned away, and in the turning his eyes caught the flicker of movement again amongst the trees. Immediately he turned and scanned the underbrush.

  “If you are there Entity, then show yourself,” he said in a low voice. “I dislike this skulking!”

  Silently a grey coated she-wolf detached itself from the confines of the forest, to walk out and stand directly at the warded borders of the clearing.

  ‘I can come no closer,’ the wolf stated. ‘Your people have this place warded well.’

  Aran stared at the animal which was no animal, “Do you wonder, after the problems we experienced last night.”

  The Entity seemed to shrug, ‘It is the Ritual of Making.’

  “That is no answer,” Aran replied.

  ‘It is the only answer that can be given to you. The Ritual of Making is the very lifeforce of the forest. Only the wards of the mages can temper its influence, and I am wholly controlled by the Ritual.’

  “But you are the Goddess,” Aran said. “Can you not place yourself above such energies?”

  ‘I am nothing,’ replied the Entity. ‘I am an Aspect only. There are many other Aspects of the Goddess, but I have been marked and empowered in order to be the contact with the other sentient races.’

  “Then why are you here?” asked Aran. “Our wards contain you to the forest borders, and there is no wilful energy in this clearing.”

  ‘I have come as envoy only,’ the Entity stated. ‘There are two here who wish to have speech with you.’

  “Who?” asked Aran.

  The wolf turned away and walked back into the darkness, ‘You will see. The energies of the forest allow them to come, but your wards contain them only to the forest.’

  Aran watched the wolf disappear, and then strained his eyes to detect more movement. Finally he perceived a faintly glowing figure move out from between the trees.

  ‘Brother?’

  “Sarana”

  Aran stared at the young girl-child who stepped towards him, whilst pausing only at the very edge of the grassed clearing.

  ‘I can come no further, brother. There are invisible walls here.’

  “Wards, Sarana,” Aran explained. “We had some problems last night with the forest energies.”

  The girl-child nodded, ‘I know, the Entity explained it to me. You need not have worried the energy is not malevolent, just ancient only in its desires.’

  Aran nodded, “We guessed so, but it is distracting to our purpose and could have caused problems within the group.”

  Aran stared at the serious faced girl-child with the long straight blond hair, who was dressed in a pale robe of indeterminate type and style.

  “Your must think my memory poor, Sarana,” he confessed, “I have little recollection of your features when you were alive.”

  ‘We were small children only,’ she said. ‘The memory of a very young child is unformed like raw clay. It is no wonder that you cannot bring me to mind.’

  “Are you well?” he asked finally.

  Sarana smiled wryly, ‘As well as any disembodied spirit, brother. Yet I watch over you and those who gather about you. I am glad that you have come to yourself again. I worried about you, and was certain you meant to take your own life after that great battle.’

  Aran nodded sadly, “It was a bitter and learning time for me,” he admitted. “Thank-you again for your presence that day, I was a hard and difficult man to be around, but you were my greatest comfort during those terrible hours.”

  ‘I am glad only that I was taken young by the hand of the Goddess,’ Sarana said softly. ‘I would not have made a good queen…I know my own weaknesses, and you have the greater purpose and strength of us both.’

  “That may well be so,” Aran replied, “but you are my only kin, and I have missed not knowing you as a sister.”

  Sarana turned her head back to the forest as if she was hearing a voice.

  ‘I must go now Arantur,’ she said. ‘I came only so you could see me, and have memory of my likeness. However there is someone else who craves admittance, and he grows impatient with his waiting’

  “Who?”

  ‘Our kinsman.’

  Then she turned back to Aran.

  ‘Before I go, I must let you know that the Entity tells me that I may be with you soon in a more ‘tangible’ way. Look for me Arantur; you may soon know my presence.’

  Aran was confused, “How? Tell me Sarana!”

  But the girl-child only shook her head, and faded back into the forest.

  *

  Aran huddled closer into his cloak, and stamped his feet against the grass to get some feeling back into his toes. He did not know how long this next visitor would take, but he hoped that it would not be long.

  *

  ‘I am glad that you and my son have resolved your differences.’

  Aran looked up and saw his dream-memory of Warleader Andur walk out from between the trees to stand directly at the edge of the grass bordering the warded clearing.

  Aran dropped to his knees in bowing supplication.

  “Great lord,” he acknowledged.

  ‘Get up!’ Andur admonished the young king. ‘You and I are equal in rank. I will not have you bowing to me.’

  Aran got unsteadily to his feet, and stared disbelievingly at the crowned, and tall blond-braided figure dressed in archaic style clothes and weaponry.”

  ‘I see you carry my sword,’ Andur said at last, staring meaningfully at the King’s Sword at Aran’s hip. ‘You use it well, better in fact than I ever did!’

  “You had the Warriormage Ability, lord,” Aran asked. “Why did you not use it?”

  The figure of the Warleader grinned mirthlessly, ‘I did not know I possessed it until the mages came to me before the fall of Seawatch Keep. Then it was a little late to explore my talents on the battlefield, and after the war there was no need to use the Ability.’

  Aran had to smile at that, “I agree that it has little application during peacetime.”

  ‘Just so,’ Andur replied. ‘Yet I have come to this place to bring you news.’

  “What news?”

  The Warleader fingered the ghostly replica of the magecrafted weapon at his side. ‘The horsetribes have seen their omens. Even now they ride to the aid and enforcement of yon encamped Guards and Legions on the plain.’

  Aran let out a sigh of relief, “At last! I feared they would not come in time.”

  ‘They w
ill be a strength to your armies, kinsman,’ Andur said confidently. ‘They helped me greatly during that last great battle of the Uprising.’

  He glanced across to the sleeping figure of Bini. ‘I see that one already rides with you.’

  “Bini Stardreamer,” said Aran. “He is a true companion.”

  ‘I too had a plainsman as a friend. His name was Erike Strikefast,’ Andur remembered. ‘He was my right hand man in all things, and as straight and true to our cause as an arrow’s flight.’

  Aran stared at the older man with sad eyes, “I have come to this kingship suddenly and without preparation, lord. I know little about how a king ought to behave, and it would have been reassuring to have guidance along the way. Why did you not come to me sooner as Sarana has?”

  Andur’s gaze dropped to the ground, ‘My death has been separated from your life by many long centuries. Only the vast, dreaming powers in this place allow my spirit to rouse itself to converse with you now. However, I have come to you once before. Do you not remember?’

  Aran nodded, “I had a vivid, unsettling dream the night after we returned from the ambush. I thought it was only a fancy seeded from the horrors of the battlefield.”

  Warleader Andur shook his head, ‘Apart from this place, it is only in dreams that the living and the non-living may meet. Even then the will of the Goddess allowed only that one brief contact and reassurance.’

  “As a king, have I erred too much?” Aran asked finally, quietly.

  ‘You are greater into your kingship than I ever was,’ Andur admitted. ‘I was Warleader only during the Great Uprising. The mettle of my kingship was never tested by the vagaries of Glaive, and the Council was too indebted by my victory ever to try my patience fully.’

  “Your son Maran has been difficult to deal with,” Aran said bluntly.

  Andur smiled wryly, He is stubborn to a fault, and too much like me in character…as you are too, young Arantur. I deeply regret the heritage we have both passed onto you. The Andurian temper alone is a heavy burden, without the added weight of the Warriormage rage to bear as well.’

  “It is proving difficult, but I believe that I am learning self-discipline,” Aran stated. “However I am indebted to my queen-to-be Alissa, for she has hammered and tempered my raw-iron rage into steel.”

  ‘You have chosen well,’ replied the Warleader. ‘Baranta was a fine, good woman, but she had not the inherent strength of your lass.’

  Aran glanced across to the sleeping figure of Alissa, “I will tell her your words come morning.”

  Aran looked back, and saw that the glowing figure of his ancestor was beginning to fade.

  “Tell me lord” Aran asked hurriedly. “Will we have a chance against the Thakur? Will I defeat their Warleader?”

  Andur half turned to the forest as if he was obeying a greater summons from within.

  ‘The future is closed to me,’ he said at last. ‘However, I believe your decisions have been sound ones.’ He paused and his voice began to fade also, ‘One last thing, kinsman. The old Abilities grow daily in the land, look to those who camp also in this place, you will find others who have the seeds of the Warriormage Ability deep within them!’

  “Wolf Leader Darven I know of!”

  ‘Others too,’ whispered Andur, his voice as quiet as a gentle breeze wafting in the canopy of the forest. ‘Look for me in your dreams, kinsman. I will aid you when the Goddess wills.’

  Then the form of the Warleader turned, and faded back into the black denseness of the woodlands.

  *

  Chapter 2—The Rite of Reinforcing

  Early next morning Aran wandered over to where Mage Drayden stood saddling his horse.

  “We had visitors last night,” he said abruptly as the mage looked up. “At the time I did not want to speak of it to Mage Theaua,” Aran added, “For they came expressly to talk to me.”

  “Who were they, my lord? I assume they were not human,” said Drayden looking up.

  Aran shook his head, “The Entity came first in the guise of a grey she-wolf, after that was the shade of my sister Sarana, and after her, the form of Warleader Andur.”

  Drayden paused in his task, “Warleader Andur?”

  “Aye, this was the second time I’ve seen him,” Aran said blandly. “He came to me in a dream a few days ago, but last night we had quite a long conversation.”

  Drayden’s eyebrow quirked upwards, “Did he have anything useful to tell you, or did he stop by only for a chat?”

  Aran grinned at that, “Oh yes, he informed me that we have the support of the plainsmen, and that they are presently riding south to join our army.”

  Drayden’s face relaxed, “That is good news! I know you were worried that they might not show their support. Will you tell the others?”

  “Of course, I’ll gather everyone together before we ride out this morning.” Aran paused, “There is something else. Andur implied that we have other latent Warriormages in the group. I mentioned that I already knew about Darven, but he seemed to think that there are others as well. It could indeed be likely that most of the Guard with us may have the latent Ability. After all Darven did pick the finest from both companies of the Andurian Guard.”

  “You want me to Scan them now?” asked Drayden.

  Aran nodded, “Every day we draw nearer and nearer to the Thakurian border. We must teach these men wards and blocks, otherwise we will soon have a lot of problems on our hands. Neither I, nor Darven will be able to stop these soldiers if they start running amok!”

  Drayden pulled a face, “I am certain High Weathermage Trenny will be extremely interested to know that there are other Warriormages emerging from the ranks of the soldiers. It certainly won’t take him long to put two and two together, and get an answer that won’t much please either him, or the Archmage.”

  “We’ve kept this quiet until now,” Aran said frowning. “It will take a while for word to seep back to the Archmage. That is unless Weathermages have ways of speaking and listening on the winds?”

  Drayden barked a short, unhappy laugh, “They may well do, as you are well aware I am no Weathermage!” He patted his horse and gestured to Aran to follow, “Come my lord, we may as well get this over and done with.”

  *

  “Last night, during my watch, I received communication that the plainsmen are at this moment riding to aid us in our defence of the province,” Aran said to the group standing before him.

  There was a murmur of excited and relieved conversation at that, and Bini’s face brightened.

  “I was also told that the ancient Abilities are on the rise throughout the land, and that there may be some in our group who unknowingly possess the Warriormage Ability,” Aran added quietly.

  The mages immediately looked to each other in consternation, and Trenny’s face paled noticeably at that piece of information.

  “This is not news to me,” admitted Aran whilst trying to avoid catching Trenny’s eye. “Wolf Leader Darven was only days ago inadvertently discovered to be a latent Warriormage, and I gave orders that certain trustworthy mages Scan those in the Guard and Legion who might be displaying uncanny skills and talents.”

  “Trustworthy?” spat out Trenny angrily, more than a little alarmed at the prospect of armies of Warriormages walking the earth again. “Who would you deem as trustworthy my lord, and why wasn’t Glaive informed?”

  Aran turned to the Weathermage his own anger rising.

  “What I do as a Warriormage is my own business, mage. I certainly do not expect to run to the Archmage for anything connected with my own discipline. I am utterly certain that the Weathermages have their own secrets, this was one of mine!”

  Darven stepped forward his eyes also flaring in anger, “The rising of the old Abilities is not the fault of High King Arantur, but wholly the responsibility of the Goddess herself,” he growled. “She knows that we are defending our land, and is providing us with the Abilities that have the most use in the war,” Darven a
dded cuttingly.

  Aran nodded to Darven, his gaze showing implicit thanks for the Wolf Leader’s support in this matter. With eyes still smouldering in barely checked anger, Aran turned back to the Weathermage.

  “Mage Trenny, I have spoken with Drayden about Scanning all the non-mages here. As he is the head of this representative group from Glaive, he has agreed to do so, and to also teach any latent mages found the basic Aids to Concentration. You may not be aware, but any latent Warriormage who does not have basic instruction and skills in creating barriers and wards, will be susceptible to influence by the Thakurian Warleader. It is imperative that all non-mages are Scanned immediately, so we can avert any future problems.”

  Trenny gnawed his lower lip unhappily, clearly he was distressed about the situation, but since Drayden had been nominated as mage leader, the Weathermage was powerless to intervene. Finally he nodded, and turned away, unwilling to see the proof of yet more Warriormages in the group. Swiftly Drayden singled out the six Andurian guardsmen, and sitting them down on the grass, immediately began the process of Scanning the men. Five minutes later Drayden turned away, his normally healthy face grey with fatigue.

  “Two my lord,” he said at last. “They are not strongly Warriormage, but there is indeed the spark of the Ability within them. If these were ordinary Abilities, then Glaive would have sent these men home. The College is only interested in strong talent, but unfortunately with this Ability we have no choice but to train them, and teach them the blocks.”

  “Whom did you find?” Aran asked as he gazed at the guardsmen.

  “Guardsman Bennek,” Drayden said, “And this other fellow at the end.”

  “Guardsman Gunthred of Bear Company,” Darven supplied the soldier’s name.

  Both men looked up at the mention of their names, their faces registering both astonishment, and dismay at the news.

  *

  “So now we have four definite Warriormages,” Drayden privately sighed to Theaua a few minutes later. “The world indeed grows stranger day by day. It might be well if the king did decide to reform the College of Rapier. If more latent mages are to be found, then they will need all the training that they can get. From my experience they will need a hell of a lot of careful handling before they can be considered safe, and they are not going to get that sort of unbiased tuition from Glaive.”