Prince Casper’s youngest son status appeared to have birthed a fire of covetousness in him. Not content with his inheritance of the modest county of Rossad, granted on his majority, he’d set his sights on taking over the adjoining independent neighbours. With his father’s indulgent backing and the provision of some platoons of seasoned troops, Casper had forged a path, trampling over his neighbours’ defences, in shockingly short order. They had not had time to build their defences before they were swept away.
The huge swathe of lands he had subsequently acquired, now renamed North and South Rosh on either side of Rossad, ought to fill him with satisfaction. He already had far more land than any one man, short of his father the king, could hope to manage. Yet his greed seemed to know no bounds. Small sections at a time, he’d continued to prey on his neighbours, continually altering the borders. He’d hear about a rich neighbouring coal mine or a beautiful hunting preserve and immediately he wanted to own it. Sometimes he’d negotiate for ultimate ownership, other times he’d just send in the troops and make the people surrender. Either way it was extremely rare for him to fail once he’d set his objective.
Cyril recognised it was the act of winning that drove Casper, just as much as covetousness. He was addicted to the adrenalin high of battle and overcoming all odds. Perhaps his near death had slowed him down, but Cyril suspected the lull in the fighting was temporary. Conquest, and adding more land to his personal empire, appeared to be Casper’s main focus in life. Edmoston should not relax its vigilance and time might end up being its worst enemy.
The minor Eastern Guild was now of more importance than it had ever been in its history. Its members were the primary factor thwarting Casper’s greedy grasp. They could not afford in-fighting or taking their eyes off maintaining their defences in the mountains. If this rogue wizard was upsetting the balance then that needed to be addressed. First, Cyril needed to take a look at Half Circle and find out what was going on. Whilst there he’d check over the defensive skills it was teaching those wizards destined for the front line. As a battle honed warrior wizard, he had skills and experience in abundance. Not that he had any intention of saddling himself with teaching. He had far more pressing priorities to take his time.
‘Sir, there’s a group of people up ahead,’ Randolph warned urgently. Ahead, the road disappeared around a bluff, limiting their forward view. They therefore had no idea what they might be approaching. Fortunately, they’d been able to sense it.
‘About time we found some people. Unfurl the guild flag,’ Cyril responded, halting so their flagbearer could clip it onto the lance that served dual purpose as a flagpole. Whoever the people were, sight of a guild flag would immediately announce that they were a party of wizards on official wizard business and not simple travellers. If they planned mischief then they could expect magical retaliation. With the flag flying, its pole clipped into its holster so it didn’t need to be held, and their favourite weapons readily to hand, they continued up the road.
Rounding the bend they found the road definitively barred. Thick defensive brick towers guarded substantial wooden gates, flanked by a sturdy wall. Finally; a serious fortification. Clearly marked as an official checkpoint, they approached cautiously, aware of the soldiers alertly watching them from atop the wall with arrows nocked. Flanking brick walls sealed the few open yards of land between two natural rocky ridges. This was a very effective defensible site on which to place a gate. It had certainly not been here on Cyril’s last visit, so many years previously. This was clearly the first real line of defence in Edmoston and he was very relieved to see it.
Cyril suspected this was Lord Aubrey’s doing, judging by the practical and efficient design. Soldiers walked the top of the wall, protected by shoulder height crenulations. Unlike at most checkpoints the gates were closed, indicating their wartime footing. Therefore no rush of force would get anyone through. Anyone wishing to enter would have to be accepted inside or fight their way through.
‘Please state your names and destination.’
‘We are headed for Half Circle,’ Randolf announced, gesturing to his flag.
‘Your names? I’m sorry sirs, but a flag isn’t sufficient. Judging by how crumpled and worn that flag is, it could have come from anywhere.’
Cyril was relieved by the guard’s no nonsense attitude and that he wasn’t just waving them through because they said they were wizards. He was actually doing his job. The guard glanced aside as a slight young man came to join him, who really didn’t look like a soldier. Cyril nodded to Randolph, letting him introduce them all in turn. He watched the guard glance at his colleague, waiting for his nod at each name and realised he felt a tiny hum of magic from the small boned man. The soldiers all wore a utilitarian but neatly kept uniform and Cyril now noticed the young man’s similar uniform had a different insignia on his chest. Ah, the crescent symbol of Half Circle and the guard wore a stylised cedar tree, so he must be one of Lord Aubrey’s men from Cedar Castle. Cyril let his shield down a fraction, sufficiently that the wizard would be able to detect that he too was a wizard. Since the young man’s gaze flicked immediately to him and his eyes widened Cyril knew the weight of his power had been sensed.
‘They are who they say they are. Let the warrior wizard and his party through,’ the young man said quickly and inclined his head respectfully to Cyril.
‘Welcome to Edmoston,’ the guard said as the gates slowly opened and he waved them through.
‘Thank you,’ Cyril said and nodded to the young wizard. As they travelled on down the road it was soon clear why the checkpoint had been sited where it was. Between it and the border, there was only one road and short of scrambling down cliffs and swimming rapid strewn rivers, there weren’t other options of evading it. Beyond the checkpoint however, the road forked and the land began to open up into more hospitable terrain. They passed a small garrison, conveniently sited close enough to the checkpoint to service it and provide quick reinforcing backup. Lord Aubrey was clearly a practical leader.
‘Which way?’ Randolph asked, since he remained in the lead, bearing the flag. The road split in three, or rather the main road carried straight on with two minor roads splitting off to the left and right.
‘Left,’ Cyril told him. ‘Straight on leads to Cedar Castle and the heart of Lord Aubrey’s lands.’
‘And to the right?’
‘I don’t know, actually. It’d be helpful if they’d put up signposts, but I suppose that’d make it too easy for foreigners, or anyone not meant to be here.’
‘I hope you do know where we’re going,’ Randolph muttered, aware of being stared at by the people working in the fields they were passing. The road they were travelling on didn’t really deserve the title since it was little more than a wagon rutted agricultural track. It looked like a field access. He’d never have thought it actually went anywhere important. It would be embarrassing to end up in a field and have to turn around and pass those same people again, admitting they were lost. Wizards were meant to be all knowing after all.
***
Half Circle came into view just as dusk was falling. Named for the shape of the cliffs that it was nestled within, the military wing of the eastern guild had once been a remotely located retreat with a small academy. The need to give wizards their military training away from outside observation, along with the site’s proximity to the border, meant that it was a quiet retreat for the retired or hermits no longer. Training for war had to be its new purpose. He sincerely hoped they viewed it that way.
The rough track led through what appeared to be a hole in a rock face. If there hadn’t been faint daylight on the other side, they’d have thought it was the entrance to a cave. There were no markers of any kind.
‘This is it?’ Randolph asked, thoroughly unimpressed. He wondered if they were going to find troglodytes or some other rustic or half-mad cave-dwellers inside.
‘It used to be used as a retreat,’ Cyril told them, amused at Randolph’s not so private
observations, especially as they were echoed by the rest of the team.
‘Where is everyone? I don’t sense anyone at all,’ Randolph added. ‘Are you sure they haven’t moved?’
‘As far as I know they’re still here,’ Cyril replied thoughtfully. The very lack of people put them all on edge. They’d certainly expected to have been met by now. He led them through the tunnel entry and found a large open grassy area big enough to hold cavalry drills. It was entirely empty of life. The track led on and they could now see a large wall with wide gates that had initially seemed part of the bluff. The gates stood open and through them they could now discern other manmade buildings. More importantly, they could also feel the presence of a few people. However, there weren’t more than half a dozen. This couldn’t be right. They must have more trainees at least than that. If they hadn’t then that was definitely time to panic. This was meant to be the guild’s main defensive outpost. Where was everyone else?
They passed through the gateway unchallenged and only now did someone appear and approach them.
‘Good evening sirs,’ the lad said. ‘Shall I take your horses?’
‘Where is everyone?’ Cyril asked.
‘They’re waiting for you inside.’
Cyril pressed his lips together at the slight and also at the inference he was tardy to be keeping them waiting. Dismounting, he unbuckled his saddlebags to sling over his shoulder and once his men were also ready, he strode through the open doors the lad had gestured towards.
The brick entrance hall was large and arresting, brightly lit by a vast iron and glass chandelier dangling from the ceiling. A heavy chain and pulley, attached to the wall, was clearly how they lowered it to light or replace its many candles. The hall required a long look. It was cluttered with a huge number of sculptures, statues, obelisks and odd pieces of artwork made from a variety of materials. He sensed magical residue from many of them, so they’d been created by the magic of wizards. Why? What purpose did they serve?
Realising he’d been distracted and annoyed to have been, he strode down the centre of the room, following a red and blue strip of carpet to a second set of doors. These doors were closed, but with glazed upper sections, they were not remotely defensive. He absently noticed the fancy red and blue coloured glass and that there was an attractive swirling pattern embossed into the wood too. Surely this decoration was more appropriate to a lord’s or indeed lady’s inner chambers than a military training academy’s front entrance. He thought the east’s coffers were bare. Who had paid for this extravagant nonsense, or rather justified it? He certainly hoped this was a leftover frivolity from its previous use and had not been installed recently.
Movement through the glass caught his attention and so he wasn’t surprised when the doors opened before he could reach for the handle.
‘Good evening sirs and welcome. I am Half Circle’s steward, William. I believe you are Sir Cyril?’
‘Yes. Good evening William.’
‘Wizard Mathias told us to expect you. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters where you can freshen up before dinner.’
Whilst it was tempting to simply fall in with their plans for dinner, and he was certainly tired, he was more unsettled and annoyed than he’d expected to be on his first impression of Half Circle. What had happened in Jared’s absence? Assuming of course that what Jared had left was a crisp base of operations with a sufficiently strong defence. Or was Edmoston’s security principally reliant on Lord Aubrey’s wall?
‘Thank you,’ Cyril responded relieved to finally find some civility. He now wondered if the lack of any challenge to state their identities, as they entered Half Circle itself, was because someone had been keeping tabs on their progress. He supposed the wizard at the checkpoint had called ahead to announce their impending arrival. Well, he hoped he’d done so. However, the lack of an escort, or being met at any point, was downright rude. ‘However, I’d really prefer to check out your ready room first.’
‘Our ready room? Ah, I believe wizard Mathias has a tour planned for the morning.’
‘I’m not here for a tour. I’m charged with assessing your defences,’ Cyril said. ‘So far, I’m not impressed, or reassured, they are adequate. Do lead the way.’
‘Not impressed? Oh. Should I fetch Mathias first?’
‘Just show us to the room.’
‘Yes sir,’ William said anxiously and scuttled to a door on their left.
As they passed through the door, the brick ended and rounded windowless carved stone took its place. Passages, lit by old-fashioned candle lanterns set in niches, branched off in several directions. Some sloped either upwards or down, rather than using steps, which was weird. Presumably they were now in tunnels carved into the cliff.
Taking a tunnel leading down, they headed into the bowels of the complex, until they finally entered a guarded but otherwise unmarked and unremarkable door. The room beyond was a large rough-hewn cavern, carved by nature rather than man. It was full of stalactites at the far end. The middle of the cavern was taken up with a wide pool of still water, raised to knee height by a wall. A dozen wizards were seated on curved benches, surrounding the pool, and were staring into the water.
‘Sir Cyril, this is supervisor Renton,’ William introduced a man seated at a desk overlooking the pool. William then stood back, passing responsibility over with almost indecent haste.
‘Welcome to Half Circle. It’s an honour to meet you,’ Renton greeted.
‘Supervisor Renton,’ Cyril acknowledged. ‘Explain what it is your wizards are scrying for?’
‘This is how we keep watch on our borders,’ Renton explained. ‘We can remain undetected by any enemies this way and give out warnings quickly, should there be a need.’
‘I see. Who do you give warnings out to?’
‘The closest garrison. We have wizards stationed at each border garrison to provide a linked network,’ he said proudly.
Cyril merely nodded. One wizard at each might be able to give warning, but they’d then be reliant on help getting to them for backup, if the garrison troops couldn’t handle the issue. He’d have to tour the garrisons to see this network at work and assess its efficacy for himself.
As he and his team moved closer to the pool, they could see that the outer rim was divided into sections about three feet square. Each wizard stood before a segment, staring into the water which each held a different live scene. Cyril moved around the circle, peering in at the scene depicted that they were monitoring. He recognised the border crossing that they’d used. So, it hadn’t just been Casper’s forces watching them go through. Good. However, the scene was quite limited and he’d been right that once through they were unobserved until they were next picked up at the main gate checkpoint entry. Several of the scenes were of different border crossings and then the gates to Cedar Castle. He paused at the image of an attractive white bridge crossing a moat leading to a gleaming white stoned gateway. He didn’t recognise this site and it looked important. ‘Where is that?’
‘White Haven School,’ Renton responded having followed at Cyril’s shoulder, so the wizards producing the images needn’t break their concentration for questions. They fell silent to watch as a heavy merchant’s wagon drew up to the gates and was quickly waved through. It was peculiar to see the wagon drive under the gateway and simply disappear out of the image.
‘What of the view beyond the gates? This seems rather truncated,’ Cyril remarked noticing that there was sufficient water to hold more of an image. Yet behind that wide view of impressive gates and guard towers, nothing was visible beyond the line of the wall.
‘We cannot see beyond the wall. Something the wizard has done blocks us.’
‘Can I join with you for a moment to see this block?’ Cyril noticed the man glance at Renton, who nodded permission, before he held out an arm in invitation. Cyril had a look at the barrier and frowned. Even with his strength the barrier to their view remained unwaveringly absolute. This
was his first feel for the changes he’d heard had been instigated by wizard Jim. No wonder the guild was worried by the man; he seemed to have some odd but highly effective ways of doing things. He disengaged from the sentry quickly. ‘That’s most peculiar.’
The other scenes were ones he vaguely recognised as being the main gates of each of the eastern lords’ residences and indeed Queen Bernadette’s too. ‘So, the borders are only watched where there is an official border crossing?’
‘How else would anyone cross?’ Renton asked, watching Sir Cyril’s inspection.
‘It was my understanding that your rogue wizard Jim crossed elsewhere, arriving at White Haven completely undetected,’ Cyril remarked. ‘How did he do it? Where is the breach in your defences?’ He looked at the assembled wizards expectantly until one tentatively raised a hand.
‘Sir, we believe he came across the mountains using the Huntsman’s Pass.’
‘Where is that? Why is it not being monitored?’
‘It is an extremely difficult climb and the trail on this side is guarded,’ Renton said.
‘Why did those guards not stop him?’
‘They didn’t see him and he didn’t climb their barricade,’ the other wizard volunteered into the lengthening stony silence.
‘You’re saying you have no idea how he evaded a checkpoint? How many others have come through the same way? How many spies or saboteurs may have sneaked in under your noses?’
‘There is a limit to how many places we can watch,’ Renton objected.
‘I understand that,’ Cyril said. ‘But the fact he successfully sneaked into Edmoston undetected, means there’s a breach in your defences that others will search for and utilise. Who has the image of that pass?’
Forging Alliances: Wizards of White Haven Page 9
