by Joseph Lallo
Jihan struggled silently to find an honourable way out of hiding behind her skirts. That kind of thinking was extremely irritating.
“You might as well stop squirming, Jihan. I know your honour will be bent out of shape by this, but maybe if you look at it differently, you’ll feel better.”
He regarded her warily.
“I’m a mage. You shouldn’t think of me the way you would other women. I’m not Ahnao. You must admit I can protect myself better than any man could, no matter how good he might be with a sword.”
He nodded reluctantly. “If you’re sure, I’ll send for the scouts.”
“I want to leave tonight.”
“Is a candlemark soon enough?”
She nodded, and Jihan left to find his scouts while she went in search of Mathius. She found him talking with Keverin in the south entry hall. They broke off their conversation as she approached, and bowed to her. She ignored Keverin, and took Mathius’ arm. She took him aside for a little privacy.
“I need a favour. Do you know how to stop a mage from finding you in a mirror?”
Mathius nodded. “It’s a special type of ward.”
Her heart sank. Wards were really hard to learn. “Can you teach me?”
“I can try. You need to master simple warding first, I’m sure in a season or so you’ll—”
She groaned.
“What?”
“I need it tonight.”
Mathius shook his head mutely. “Remember how hard your shields were to learn? Multiply the difficulty by ten. It’s a subtle use of magic, and you’re…”
“Go on, you can say it,” Julia said.
Mathius shrugged. “You’re about as subtle as a mace to the head.”
She scowled. She’d known he would say something like that.
Keverin edged closer. “Why do you need this thing?”
“I’m going to attack the sorcerers on the border before they can lay siege here.”
“No!” Keverin shouted and grabbed her shoulders. “I told Jihan it’s too dangerous. I’ll not let you go.”
“You can’t stop me,” Julia said, shrugging him off. “This is the only way that we can win.”
Keverin fumed. He bowed abruptly. “Lady Julia, good luck with your attempt. May the God watch over you,” he wheeled and stormed away, probably in search of Jihan.
She watched him go and frowned. She hoped he wouldn’t try to stop her later, because she wouldn’t be stopped. If she had to use magic on him, she would.
“I’ll come with you, lady. I’ll be shield, and you be sword,” Mathius said, and smiled but it was a weak thing.
She felt a sudden burst of pride and affection for him. He was obviously frightened. “I appreciate the company. We’re leaving as soon as Jihan informs the scouts.”
A few candlemarks later, Julia rode north in the company of Mathius and four scouts. Keverin had surprised her. He hadn’t tried to force Jihan into preventing her leaving. It was a good thing he hadn’t. She was tired of being used and ordered about. She didn’t want to fight, but at least this battle was one she’d chosen to undertake herself. She would take control of her life again, even if it literally killed her.
The grass was long and dry, and puffs of choking dust rose from the ground as they rode. Mathius said the nearest water was Malcor, and that dust was better than travelling through mud and rain. Julia washed the dust down with a drink from her water bag, grimacing at the taste. It never tasted right. She wished they had a proper road, instead of what they had, a vague trail.
“There are no roads in Camorin, lady,” Mathius explained. “The trail is packed dirt like this, because the caravans used it as the quickest way to Denpasser.”
“Traders?” she said. “I thought you said that the clans wouldn’t welcome strangers.”
“They don’t anymore. They used to trade horses with us in exchange for our metal goods. Needles, daggers, pots and pans… swords even. When Chulym fell on hard times, the trade dried up.”
She nodded. Chulym was a town in southern Deva if she remembered correctly, and was where the master smiths used to live.
The dawn found them making a cold camp in the shadow of a hill. None of the surrounding hills were very large, but this one was the best of a bad lot. It was about six yards high, finishing in a gently rounded top. More a hillock than a true hill. Without orders, two of the scouts made their way up, and hunkered down in the long grass to watch. The other two made themselves comfortable, and promptly fell asleep. Mathius sat silently talking with her using magic.
*Have you decided how you’re going to attack?*
She shrugged. *Lightning. They can’t track it back to me.*
*I’ll ward us against scrying.*
She nodded. *Can you do that and shield yourself?*
He nodded. *I’ve been practising. I can fight as well. I’m not strong, but I can help*
*I told you before not to sell yourself short, Mathius. A spell in the right place, and at the right time, could win the battle.*
He nodded and smiled at her, obviously feeling better about himself. That was one reason she’d said it. He was brave and clever, but not yet strong in magic, and felt his lack more than he should. It was because he was her teacher, and wanted to be like Darius to her. Just as the wizard had been a mentor to him, he wanted to be hers. Strangely, he didn’t realise that he already was. Darius had been a hero to many people, but not to her. She hadn’t known him. She did know Mathius, and he was already her hero. She didn’t need men in armour with swords. She needed friends, and he was the best friend she could possibly have.
They settled down to sleep, but she couldn’t switch her brain off, and kept recalling all she’d seen since arriving at Athione. Her memories were full of life and death, beauty and devastation. One thing overshadowed all the others—the memory of Keverin riding toward her, his cloak billowing behind him, and grim determination etched upon his face.
Sleep finally claimed her.
* * *
55 ~ Firestorm
Julia awoke to the sun shining in her face. Groaning and squinting, she fumbled around for a water bag. After a lot of cursing that made the scout’s eyes widen, she managed to get the stopper out, and wash the sleep from her mouth and face.
“Any sign?”
“Not yet, lady,” Delin said. “The mage is up the hill looking for them now. There’s bread and cheese if you have a mind to eat.”
“Thanks.”
The scout handed her some rations. They looked as if they’d been baked in a kiln rather than an oven. The bread was so hard, that she had to soften it with water first. She didn’t say anything. If her men had to eat this vile rubbish, so would she.
“It tastes foul doesn’t it?” Delin said, watching her trying to chew the iron hard cheese.
“It’s certainly different!”
“There’s a reason for that, lady. There’s one for most everything I reckon.”
“You don’t have to call me lady you know. My name is Julia.”
That flustered him, and she sighed. Crossing the barrier between noble and commoner was hard. Even Athione’s guardsmen insisted upon calling her a lady. They didn’t class her the same as others though. Honour forbade a woman from being put into danger, but she had magic, and her skills were desperately needed. They’d wrestled with the problem for a long time before coming up with, what was to her mind, a very strange solution. They’d decided that she was one of them—a very special kind of commoner, but also a kind of guardsmen... like a mascot she supposed. It meant they could let her fight, without it being dishonourable.
She’d heard Athione guardsmen explaining it to the Malcor guardsmen in very serious tones. It amused her to think of herself as any kind of mascot, and she wasn’t a noble anyway, but she liked being a woman. She wasn’t sure she liked them thinking of her as a man in any context, though she was cognisant of the honour they did her. She was
their lady, and they would fight any who said different. She supposed turnabout was fair. She did think of them as her men, especially those she’d healed.
“It wouldn’t be proper, lady,” Delin finally said.
“Have you a consort, Delin?”
“Aye I do, lady, and two strong boys she bore me. A fine woman she is. She’s had to put up with a lot over the years, with me being away so much.”
“Why is that?”
“Lord Athlone used his scouts as messengers, lady. I had to travel all over with his scrolls and such. I ain’t got a clue what was in ‘em, but there was a mighty lot of ‘em!”
She frowned. What could Athlone have been doing that needed so many messages sent and received? “Does Lord Jihan know about them?”
“I don’t think so. Lord Athlone was mighty careful about us being seen. He always sent us out with regular patrols so we could slip away.”
She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Where did he send you?”
“To the other lords mostly. I was sent to Devarr more than once—to the Chancellor. Mostly it was the lords though. Ascol, Penola, Godstone, Herstal, Kelvadon… I’ve been to most of ‘em at one time or another.”
“What about the fortresses?”
“Never been sent to the Four, lady. Strange when he sent me everywhere else, ain’t it?”
“Yes, strange,” she murmured.
She only knew four lords, and Delin hadn’t been sent to any of those. That made her foreboding even worse. Kev thought the only truly honest lords in Deva were the Lord Protectors, but then he would, being one himself. She didn’t know the truth of it, but she had a feeling that those messages would prove to be bad news for Deva.
Mathius interrupted her thoughts by sliding down the hill in a cloud of dust. “They made good time. They’ll be here in a candlemark or so.”
“Will they camp, or press on?” she said.
“No way to know.”
“It’s not even midday, lady,” Delin pointed out. “They’ll press on and camp late.”
She nodded, but she was thinking about message scrolls and consorts, not sorcerers. “I have an important job for you and the others, Delin. Lord Jihan needs to know all you can tell him about his father’s dealings. You and the others are the only ones who know where those messages went. I want the four of you to ride hard to Malcor, and tell Jihan everything you told me.”
“But you need us here, lady,” Delin protested.
“Mathius and I can protect ourselves with magic. You four cannot. This is important, Delin. Jihan has to know what Athlone was doing.”
Delin struggled to find a way not to obey, but Devan men didn’t like opposing a woman unless they knew she would be hurt, and everyone knew that she was the all powerful Sorceress of Athione.
“If you orders it, lady, we must obey,” Delin admitted finally.
She nodded. “Tell the others and be on your way.”
Delin hurried off to tell his mates.
“What are you doing now?” Mathius said.
“You heard what I…” she began, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Delin has a consort and two children. Besides, what will four scouts do against an army of ten thousand?”
“About the same as two mages, I should think. Nothing much.”
“I’m not going to die today, Mathius, but a lot of people will,” she said coldly.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know. If force is all they can understand, then I’ll have to supply it. We can’t keep fighting off a new army every few tendays. They need to be made to see that attacking Deva from now on is extremely unwise.”
Before Mathius could say anything to that, the scouts came down from the hill and saddled their mounts.
“You’re sure, lady?”
“I’m sure. Take our horses with you, and ride safe.”
“The God watch over you, lady. You too mage,” Delin said, and mounted up.
Delin caught up Yeetah’s reins, and one of the others took charge of Mathius’ horse. They rode away at a fast trot, designed to eat up the distance without overly tiring their mounts. A cloud of dust rose in their wake.
Oh crap!
“Damn, I should have asked them to go slow at first.”
“That’s torn it,” Mathius said, seeing the danger. “They’ll see the dust for sure. We better get up there.”
That was easier said than done. Although the hill had a gentle slope, the soil was dusty and loose. When she grabbed tufts of grass to pull herself up, she ended with fistfuls of the stuff, and no progress up the hill. She solved the problem by kicking off her boots, and digging her toes in.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Mathius panted as they reached the top of the hill, and lay flat. He was covered in dust. His robe looked more brown than green, as if he’d been demoted.
“That was nothing. You should try ballet practise sometime.”
“What is ballet?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she said. She peered through the long stalks of brown grass, and found two armies. Why two?
The smaller army was about a thousand men strong, all mounted. They were charging right for her hill. They must have seen the dust. The bigger one had stopped, obviously holding back until the first could investigate. Could she even hit something that far away?
“The first one will catch Delin if we don’t stop them.”
“That’s the vanguard,” Mathius said.
“What difference does that make?”
“None. I was just saying that’s all. Don’t be so touchy.”
Touchy he says. Didn’t she have a right to feel upset about killing people? Grasping her magic, she drew lightning down amongst the vanguard.
Craaaack!
The blast echoed back from the hillsides, and thunder rumbled as her strike caused a suddenly spike in the air temperature nearby. She was careful to make the lightning come straight down, and it struck the leading element. She’d chosen it, because men like Kev led from the front. She assumed the Hasians did as well. Men and horses dropped straight to the ground, dead before they hit. Others were thrown from their horses and killed when their panicked mounts rolled over them. Horses fled the scene at a gallop, screaming in fear. Dust hung heavy upon the air, along with smoke from burning grass.
Ulp.
She glanced at Mathius, and he paled. She didn’t know what he’d expected, and she didn’t have time to ask. She turned back in time to see the Hasians reorganising.
Craaaack!
Her second strike slammed into them, and she waited for the dust to clear, before hitting them again. Maybe she wouldn’t have to. The gentle breeze finally did its work, and the air cleared to reveal no more than a hundred had escaped her. They were running back to their friends. Nodding to herself in cold satisfaction, she turned her attention to the main body of the legion. They hadn’t been idle while she’d been dealing with the vanguard. Each battalion was forming itself into neat rows, ready to charge into the hills. A smaller group were stationary behind the cavalry. She assumed they were the sorcerers and their guards.
The cavalry obviously didn’t know where she was. At a walk that quickly turned into a gallop, they charged into the hills, fanning out in all directions hoping to get lucky. She ignored their charge, and attacked behind them trying for their mages.
Craaaack!
She knew she’d failed when the shimmering ward appeared. It was crawling with the electrical discharge from her lightning, and visible only because of that. It was dome shaped, and covered the unmoving group completely. They’d learned to ward the sides as well as overhead. She couldn’t get to them. She left them alone for now, and chose to attack the closest group of cavalry.
Craaaack!
She realised her mistake even as the lightning struck, but she couldn’t undo it. As the middle section of cavalry went down, the sorcerers attacked her hill. They’d used the cavalry to locate
her, by drawing her fire. Now it was her turn to hunker beneath a shield. She dug her fingers into the dirt, trying to flatten herself closer to the ground. She would’ve dug a hole and pulled it in behind her if she could. Mathius was doing the same. Sweat poured off her in rivers, as tongues of flame rolled over the hill, heating the air beyond endurance, but they had to endure it or die.
Finally, after an eternity in the furnace of the sorcerer’s wrath, the billowing flames died away, leaving her little hill denuded of grass, and covered in fine black ash. There were fires burning all around the hill, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. Just ahead of her, more of the cavalry lay dead than she’d accounted for. The sorcerers had killed their own men trying to reach her. She gagged, knowing it wasn’t just the scent of cooking horse meat she was smelling. The smoke was acrid, and tears started from her eyes as she coughed.
“Mathius, ack, ack, ack,” she began to say, but went into a coughing fit as the breeze submerged them in smoke.
Mathius turned to her. His face and hands were covered in soot, and his eyes were red, streaming tears constantly.
“Got to... ack, ack, burn them out,” she rasped, trying to stifle her coughing. “Lightning won’t... ack, ack, ack, work.”
“We’ll die with them,” Mathius gasped. “The ground is too dry.”
“No choice, the ward... ack, ack, is too strong.”
Mathius nodded fatalistically, and peered through the smoke.
She wasn’t sure he could see the target, but suddenly a huge ball of fire rose into the air, and dropped just behind the sorcerers’ ward. He must have used mage-sight to see the ward’s magic. She’d have to remember that trick. Another fireball followed it, and then more in rapid succession. They fell around the dome, splashing fire in all directions. Smoke billowed up, rising insanely high into the sky. She pulled her mirror out, and Mathius hunkered closer to see better, but he shook his head a moment later when the mists failed to part.
“They’re blocking me,” she rasped.
“And I’m blocking them in return,” Mathius agreed. “It’s a stalemate.”
