Warriormage: Book Three of the 'Riothamus' trilogy

by Rosemary Fryth

  “We’ve removed our own dead,” Kainne said riding up, “It was the first thing that was done after the Thakur turned away.”

  “We’re going to have to do something about this,” Aran said his face twisting with the effort to keep his food down. “In Andur’s name we can’t just leave these bodies lying here.”

  “All the mages have exhausted their strength,” said Kainne practically, “Let nature take its course. I predict this place will be overrun by knee-high grass in a season or two.”

  Aran shook his head as he imagined the desperate battle that had been fought here. For a moment he was both glad and sad that he had not been here as well.

  “Come,” said Kainne, turning his horse away from the slaughter, “We are now only hours away from your people, and I need to talk to you about Bini…” he added in a low, worried voice.

  Aran glanced across in some surprise, “Is there something wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. There could be,” the Bowleader said enigmatically. “Tell me lord Riothamus, what did happen at the end? Bini refuses to speak of it.”

  Aran shrugged, and tersely retold the plainsleader of the killing of the Warleader and the supposed destruction of the node.

  Kainne frowned, “I still do not understand why Bini could not have told me all this?”

  Aran sighed, “Weeks ago, when we were travelling through the forest, Bini fell in love with a woman of the Sages…even now he still believes that she became the Entity, and that she perished at the node.” Aran shook his head, “Time and again we’ve all tried to tell him that the Entity took Beech’s form only, but he refuses to listen.”

  Kainne grinned, “Might Sage Beech be a green-robed young lass with pale blond hair.”

  Aran looked up, “Aye…you know of her?”

  Kainne started laughing, “Of course, she’s with the army…came out of the forest with the other Sages.”

  He chuckled and leant over to whisper in Aran’s ear. Aran almost fell off his horse so great was his surprise.

  “Are you certain?” he whispered back.

  “Both the woman and her father swear it so,” grinned the plainsleader.

  Aran’s grin was as broad as his face, “I would like to see Bini’s face when he hears.”

  “I don’t intend leaving until I do,” replied Kainne.

  *

  By early dusk the great wooden walls of the encampment had come into sight.

  Aran pulled up his plains-bred horse, staring at the distant lights and smoke. He felt a sudden deep sorrow and bone-aching weariness. So many lives had been lost to this war. There had been too many deaths, including many men he knew well and some even he had named as friends. He thought too of Trevan, and wished the mage had lived to see the end of the war. Part of him dreaded telling Maran of the old Healermage’s death. It seemed to Aran that many lifetimes had passed since he was a blacksmith’s apprentice in Leigh. Too much time and too many memories had stolen his young innocence, and had shaped his soul into hardness and bitterness. He stared again at the distant fires, and wished that he had the power and opportunity to undo all the deaths, and have the chance to rewrite the blood-stained history. Now he would be king, and the responsibility, the people’s judgment for all this would be his alone to bear. His body grew utterly still as he thought of all the soldiers who died, the endless numbers of the shattered Legions, everyone an unnecessary death. He closed his eyes against the pain and grief, and immediately wished he could be somewhere alone, somewhere dark. Somewhere, he could quietly come to terms with all of this. For too long now he had been carried away, overwhelmed by the vast forces pulling him towards Thakur and his heavy destiny. Now all that would soon be over and life would return to normality. That is if his life could ever again be ordinary…

  “My lord Riothamus…”

  Aran looked up to see the plainsleader wheeling his horse around.

  “Lord Riothamus, we are almost there, can we not ride on?”

  Aran sighed, and silently wished that the world would leave him in peace, alone. Then he looked up and saw about him the intent, yet weary faces of the plainsmen and his friends, and knew that whilst he lived he could never run from his destiny. That whatever he did, wherever he went, always it would be there waiting. He had to learn to have the strength to deal with that. He had to find acceptance…

  Finally he nodded, and spurring his startled gelding into a canter, cried out, “Aye! Ride on.”

  *

  “It is the King!”

  “The King has returned.”

  The excited buzz of conversation moved through the evening camp with as much force and speed as a mid-summer brushfire sweeping across tinder-dry plains. Pain and injuries forgotten, men leapt to their feet to see if there was truth to the rumour, running heedlessly to the opened gate to search for long-missed friends amongst the returning plainsmen.

  A great cheer rose from the waiting guardsmen when they at last saw the familiar faces of Darven and the others. Recognising them despite their leanness and heavy beards, they thronged about the horses, eager to see and hear what had happened. The mages too were overwhelmed by their brethren, their tired faces brightening at seeing friends and companions most had not thought to see again. Alissa was almost physically pulled from her horse by Captain Taran, his delight at seeing his daughter evident in every line and gesture of his body.

  Aran dismounted tiredly amidst the tumult, his presence almost forgotten in the uproar. He turned to pull his gear from the horse’s back, when he was suddenly taken in an all enveloping hug from a man who had the unmistakable odour of oil and ash.

  “Arantur!” Master Cody cried, “It doth give my heart good cheer to see thee at last…I feared thou woulds’t not return.”

  “Master Cody...” Aran could only weep at seeing his oldest friend again, “I saw all the dead…I thought perhaps…”

  Aran was enveloped again in the sweet smell of steel and smoke, “Nay lad I was well out of it. Although I must admit thy old master was kept perishing busy with all thy army’s work.”

  He held Aran’s shoulders and studied the young man carefully, unhappily noting the lines of pain and sorrow on his face

  “How was it lad?” he asked gently.

  Aran sighed, and his hands fell away from his old master, “Awful Cody…more terrible than you could ever imagine.”

  Cody nodded, “Things wert not so good here either,” he replied, his simple words a gross understatement of how close it had been. “I believe we art indebted to thee Arantur,” he said gently, “Thou art the saviour of thy land and people…thy victory indeed should be sweet.”

  Aran shook his head. He could not even begin to explain to his friend how he had regretted the war, regretted every death, that this was no victory to be savoured.

  “I cannot rejoice in this,” he said quietly, “For everywhere I look, I see death and broken land.”

  “You could not have prevented those deaths, Arantur,” a quiet voice said from behind.

  Aran turned to see the grave face of Archmage Maran.

  “Archmage,” he said quietly, “Mage Trevan is dead.”

  The old mage placed a comforting hand on the young king’s shoulder. “I know, Arantur,” he said quietly, “And I am sorry. However hard we try. However hard we wish otherwise, some painful and unpleasant things are just meant to be.” His face grew still, “I understand you all had a difficult time…you most of all, kinsman.”

  Aran sighed, and nodded, then his shoulders imperceptibly straightened, “It is finished now Archmage, all of it. Everything that had to be done…and now I think I’d like to go home.”

  “First a meal, and then a bath,” said the Archmage critically studying Aran’s lean face, “For I see that behind that blond beard of yours, you have lost a great deal of weight.”

  “We all have,” replied Aran bluntly, “But a hot meal sounds marvellous.”

  “It is only meat and vegetable stew,” warned Mar
an.

  Aran grinned suddenly, and shook his head, “After the weeks and weeks of dry food we’ve been eating, anything fresh sounds like a feast.”

  “My lord King,” said Legion Commander Sennar as he came to kneel at Aran’s feet, “It does my heart good to see you. I am glad you are looking so hale.”

  Standing, he smiled and clasped his lord on the shoulder, “Liege the beard suits you, although perhaps it might benefit from a trim?”

  “And a hot bath,” said Aran, “I won’t tell you how many weeks it’s been since we’ve had anything other than a hand wash in cold water.” He gazed across at the bandages on the other’s shoulder, “I see you have an injury. Nothing serious I hope?”

  Sennar grinned, “Nay liege, just a dislocated shoulder. It will be healed soon enough.”

  “Good,” Aran’s face grew still, “I hear you had some problems here…”

  “Aye,” the Legion Commander replied, “We were almost overrun by a large and unexpected Thakur force. Thanks to Andur that you were successful in your quest, else I would not have given us any hope of surviving. We were indeed hard pressed…” he added grimly.

  “Enough of that,” said Captain Taran as he came up to kneel before Aran, “There will be time enough for talking of what has been. Isn’t it enough that our far journeyers are safely returned.”

  He stood, and briefly hugged Aran, “My liege,” he said, “Your counsel and high judgment has been sorely missed. But I am indeed glad to hear that you were successful in your journey.”

  Then his voice fell to a murmur, “Thank you for looking after my daughter. Life would have been bleak indeed if she had been lost.”

  “But we were not unmarked,” Aran said unhappily, “Mage Trevan and Guardsmen Uhmar and Sigund are now dead.”

  Taran nodded matter-of-factly, “I know, Alissa told me. Although unfortunate, such losses were not unexpected given the circumstances.”

  “We have our own losses too,” added Sennar gravely, “Commanders Shelden and Tennar went down with their men, and Commanders Urskar and Druec are both grievously wounded, I doubt if either will again take up the legion sword.”

  “The Healermages?” asked Aran frowning. “Can they do nothing?”

  “All the mages have temporarily expended their power,” replied Captain Taran, “The healers and herbalists carry the fight now.”

  “Then seek out Master Healermage Genn,” said Aran, “He may be able to assist the worst of the wounded once he has supped and had rest.”

  The two soldiers glanced to the Archmage for his assurance, and with his nod they left to seek out the mage enclave.

  “What of Commander Terdec?” asked Aran.

  “Gone south,” was the Archmage’s reply. “All who were fit and well were sent south to rebuild Riggeltz, and see the Thakur to our borders. Also there were others sent north to counteract raiding there. Riders have already been sent to tell of our victory and your safe return.”

  “The Thakur will not soon come back,” replied Aran, “I have it on excellent advice that the Serat cycle has not yet turned.”

  “Ahhhh…” Maran sighed, “So that was the real reason for the war…I had wondered.”

  “You guessed?” Aran asked.

  The Archmage bit his lip, “Several days ago a large force came arrayed against us…”

  “The gHulam,” said Aran immediately.

  The Archmage nodded distractedly, “Aye…the gHulam. Generations ago my father Andur had spoken of them, but never did I think to see them again in my lifetime.” He paused, “There were others that rode with them. Old, yet disturbingly familiar faces that my father had described to me, faces of Serat generals that Andur himself had fought. The Goddess alone knows how they managed to survive.”

  “The Long Sleep,” Aran said, “I have been told the word although the method is hidden to me.”

  The Archmage stared consideringly at his kinsman, “We need to talk long of this, Arantur. Your knowledge of the Serat and their cycles would be useful indeed…”

  Aran shook his head wryly, “My information is only second-hand. There is one who returned with me who can give you all the information you require.”

  “Who?” asked the Archmage.

  “A Thakurian Scout,” replied Aran, “He is an honourable man, and a true and trusted friend.”

  “Then I hope you have him guarded well,” said Maran looking around, “For in this camp I would not give a brass penny for the life of a Thakurian soldier.”

  “He is with Guardsman Kunek” said Aran, “They’ve become good friends.”

  “Then I will soon speak with this man,” said the Archmage dryly, “If you can trust his word?”

  Aran nodded, “I believe I can…he has proved by his actions amenable to our cause.”

  “Then he may indeed prove to be a worthy ally,” replied Maran, then he noticed Aran’s tried and drooping figure. “But here now is a plainsman to take your horse. You have your gear? Good…now first food, and then a hot bath. That is if your lady Alissa can be shifted from it.”

  *

  Later Aran sat on his bed in the king’s tent with a belly full of delicious stew, freshly bathed, and dressed in clean clothes with even his beard neatly trimmed by a young legio who had been temporarily assigned as his new manservant. Alissa had for the moment wandered off to visit female friends in the mages enclave. Shockingly unfamiliar in her deep blue gown, her golden hair had been thoroughly washed, and was even now drying in luxuriant waves down her back. Aran thought of the night ahead, and smiled. For weeks after the forest there had been no opportunity or energy for intimacy, and he felt his loins stirring at the thought of Alissa with him tonight.

  “My lord King!”

  Aran looked up to see Foremost Keeper Sage Oak pause at the door flap of the tent.

  Aran stood, “Come in…come in Sage Oak. You are most welcome company.”

  Oak smiled and walking in, knelt briefly at Aran’s feet.

  “My liege, I am most glad to see you safely returned.”

  Aran held out his hand to help the older man up.

  “Aye, but all this could not have been done without your help,” Aran replied.

  “We only followed your advice,” said Oak, “Even then because of our indecision we left it almost too late to intervene.”

  “You came,” said Aran then his face grew still, “I expect you already know of Ash’s sacrifice…”

  “Ash knew what he was going into,” Oak replied, “In fact he volunteered for the quest.”

  “Even though he guessed he was going to die?” Aran asked.

  Oak nodded, “Sooner or later we all die…”

  “He left behind a wife…children,” Aran was astounded.

  “Aye and they have already been looked after,” Oak said, “His brother Kalle is now her husband, and the children’s stepfather.”

  “Brother?”

  “Aye, but non-Attuned, unlike Ash,” Oak added.

  “So now you have a place free in your community,” Aran said wryly.

  The Foremost Keeper nodded, “My daughter Beech is already with child.”

  Aran laughed, “I know…I heard from Kainne Stormbringer. Does Bini know?”

  Oak shook his head, “Beech is with the other Sages in the mage enclave. She will see him in the morning. Has anyone told him?” Oak asked.

  It was Aran’s turn to shake his head, “No…that sort of news should come from the mother.”

  “I agree,” Oak replied drawing his green robe closer about him. “I am glad that we took your advice,” he said at last, “And intervened here, but it was a near thing for we were too far from our node to be really effective.”

  You gave the army time,” Aran said in a low voice, “Several hours in fact, enough to hold on until we were able to destroy the Warleader.”

  “The Goddess was with us all,” remarked Oak dryly.

  “Aye,” Aran agreed softly.

  Oak glanced at the fin
e lines of fatigue that marked Aran’s face and shook his head, “You have a heavy destiny, my liege, but hopefully now it should become easier for you…”

  He turned towards the tent flap, his voice low, “My Liege, if the world and your destiny should prove too heavy and too wearisome, then we of Glade would ask you to stay for a while and heal yourself in Glade…”

  Aran nodded, “Not now, and not in the immediate future, Sage Oak. However, sometime when everything has settled and the world no longer needs us for a time, then we will come and rest with you.”

  Oak paused at the door and smiled gently, “You will be welcomed my lord King.”

  *

  Much later, when the camp had settled down to sleep, Aran’s dreams began. Sated by lovemaking, he had fallen asleep in Alissa’s embrace, his body luxuriating in the almost unfamiliar comfort of a soft, warm bed with a warm and desirable woman by his side. When the dreams began they were, as most, just confused and confusing images of what had been and what he had seen all jumbled up together as the dreaming mind is apt to do. However as the night wore on, the cluttered dreamscape faded away to become one dream and one image only…