Darkening Skies (The Hadrumal Crisis)

by McKenna Juliet E.

  ‘This man had no say in the use we’ve made of him.’ Planir gestured and the hand vanished.

  Jilseth saw Troanna and Kalion looking at each other. She needed no magic, elemental or aetheric, to foresee their criticism of his behaviour, when this morning’s work was laid before the Council of Hadrumal.

  ‘Hearth Master?’ Planir smiled courteously as though nothing untoward had happened. ‘Flood Mistress? What did you see the Mandarkin doing?’

  Kalion answered curtly. ‘He has gathered them all together, these slaves or apprentices or whatever he considers them.’

  ‘We would know more on that score if we could hear what they were saying,’ Troanna interjected.

  ‘And if there is a single trinket there with clairaudience bound within it,’ Rafrid said instantly, ‘our own spell would immediately resonate with it and let this wizard know that he has been found.’

  ‘But not by whom,’ Troanna retorted.

  ‘You’ll wager against him having some means of pursuing such a resonance?’ demanded Rafrid.

  ‘Don’t you think we should learn all we can,’ Troanna countered, ‘before some ham-fisted Soluran scrying blunders against his affinity and ruins all our chances?’

  ‘No Soluran can scry that far,’ Rafrid scoffed. ‘They have no quintessential wizardry.’

  ‘You’re certain that they have no artefact that might overcome such deficiencies in their magecraft?’

  ‘The Mandarkin seems—’ Kalion shot both the Flood Mistress and the Cloud Master a sour look as he raised his voice to speak over them ‘—to be challenging his slaves to use their own affinity to stimulate the magic instilled into the artefacts which he has given them.’

  ‘We cannot be sure of that,’ Troanna objected.

  ‘What else could they be doing?’ Kalion retorted. ‘You saw—’

  Planir interrupted. ‘What exactly did you see? Nolyen? Tell me what you saw, not what you think it might mean.’

  Jilseth was as startled as he was by the Archmage’s command. She also saw that Nol would probably rather face the Mandarkin mage than Troanna and Kalion’s indignation. But he was equal to this challenge.

  ‘They were in the central garden of the mage’s pavilion,’ he said promptly, ‘gathered in a circle. The Mandarkin had them each stand up in turn and we saw magelight rising from the artefact which each one held or was wearing.’

  ‘Are they all there?’ Rafrid asked. ‘Including the women?’

  ‘Yes, Cloud Master.’ Nolyen nodded.

  ‘As untutored as they are,’ Kalion broke in, ‘I believe we can determine their affinities by their innate magelight.’

  ‘Though that’s no guide to the strength of their aptitudes,’ Troanna said acidly.

  ‘Obviously,’ Kalion glared at her.

  ‘What’s the tally?’ Rafrid asked Nolyen.

  The water mage cleared his throat. ‘Four have an air affinity, five with the earth, six with fire and eight are born to water magic.’ His gaze slid sideways to Troanna.

  She glowered. ‘Since we know this vagabond has a water affinity, we can assume he will find it easiest to teach them to master their talents.’

  ‘A dual affinity,’ Rafrid corrected her. ‘We’ve seen him commanding lightning to deadly effect.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Troanna’s gaze challenged Planir once again. ‘How do you propose to contain this threat?’

  He shrugged. ‘The Aldabreshi warlords seem to be making their own preparations, given all we hear of them buying boatloads of slaves from Relshaz.’

  ‘I have no interest in Aldabreshin warlords. What do you propose to do, Archmage?’ she repeated. ‘Where we faced a single renegade mage, soon we will face thirty!’

  ‘They are not all mageborn,’ Jilseth said suddenly. ‘That lad with the injured face, the first one whom the Mandarkin bound with an artefact, he is a Caladhrian and doesn’t have a scrap of magic within him.’

  Troanna looked at her, incredulous. ‘You think that makes a difference? One less mageborn? One more nameless slave?’

  ‘His name is Hosh.’ Planir said with quiet authority. ‘He was enslaved alongside Captain Corrain and the others, when the former Baron Halferan and the rest of his men were murdered. His mother, Abiath—’

  ‘Captain Corrain!’ Kalion’s fury turned the water in the scrying bowl to steam which heated further to vanish in the blink of an eye. ‘The man responsible for all this, defying Hadrumal’s edicts, summoning an unknown wizard from some nameless tradition—’

  ‘That’s hardly fair,’ Rafrid objected. ‘The man had no say in his own enslavement. What he’s done since may have proved catastrophically ill-advised but he has been striving to defend his home, his kith and kin—’

  ‘That means nothing,’ Kalion snarled. ‘He has easily as much to answer for as this Mandarkin.’

  ‘To this point, perhaps,’ Planir said drily. ‘I suspect Anskal will prove the greater threat from now on.’

  ‘And you believe that the Aldabreshi are fit to challenge him?’ Troanna demanded.

  ‘Perhaps they won’t have to. Perhaps the Mandarkin and his apprentices will manage to kill themselves with arrogance and indiscipline,’ Rafrid offered in a grim attempt at humour.

  Distasteful though it was, Jilseth couldn’t help hoping the Cloud Master was right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Black Turtle Isle

  In the domain of Nahik Jarir

  HOSH WAS ALREADY half-awake when Anskal opened the door to the pavilion’s entrance hall. Sitting up on his stacked palliasses, he squinted in the grey half-light that presaged dawn.

  The Mandarkin mage was silhouetted against a faint green glow.

  Scrying magic. Hosh had seen enough of that worked by now to recognise the tell-tale radiance. What had the wizard found so fascinating in his silver bowl all night long? Hosh had first woken to the sound of the Mandarkin’s stealthy footsteps crossing and recrossing the inner chamber shortly after midnight, as best he could reckon.

  Anskal snapped his fingers. ‘Get them all here, now. Run as silently as you can,’ he warned, ‘or you will surely die.’

  Hosh’s hand went to his arm ring.

  ‘That will not help you,’ the Mandarkin assured him, ‘if you are caught before you return.’

  Hosh had never heard Anskal so implacable. By all that was sacred and profane, what did he mean? He opened his mouth to ask but the wizard was already striding back towards his scrying spell.

  Throwing off his quilts, Hosh grabbed his tunic and ran for the door, lacing his trousers. He barely paused at the top of the terrace steps to pull the tunic over his head. Anskal’s words chilled him more thoroughly than the night air.

  One of the raiders was awake, sitting on their pavilion’s terrace. Whatever Anskal might be teaching them of magic, these Aldabreshi swordsmen kept to their lifelong habits.

  ‘He sends for all of you, now!’ Hosh ran half way up the pavilion’s stair as the swordsman came to meet him. That was close enough to pass on the message without having to raise his voice.

  The swordsman nodded and turned back towards the pavilion’s door. Hosh had noticed that these men and the mainlanders, both the mariners and the militiamen, now obeyed Anskal’s orders without question. With no option but to yield their allegiance, they followed him as they had followed their former captains, afloat or ashore.

  He jumped down to the bare earth and ran for the women’s pavilion. The door and shutters had been repaired by one of the Ensaimin who proved to have been a merchant ship’s carpenter. The man had done a good job with no call for wizardry; finding tools, fixings and other necessities in the ransacked cellars.

  Hosh rapped hesitant knuckles on the freshly varnished wood. He wasn’t about to enter without invitation and have them pin him to the floor, one ripping off his arm ring to allow another of her sisterhood to slash his throat.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Someone within was already wakeful.

  ‘He wants
you, all of you, now.’ Hosh’s voice cracked with apprehension. ‘Something is amiss.’

  ‘What?’ the unseen woman demanded. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hosh protested.

  None of these women believed in blind obedience any longer, if they ever had before. The simplest instruction prompted a silent pause as each one thought through her choices.

  To Hosh’s surprise, Anskal would often explain his reasoning, and was usually more inclined to come to the women himself with requests than to send Hosh to relay his orders.

  ‘He said to hurry.’ Hosh shifted from foot to foot outside the immovable door.

  ‘Very well.’ The woman within was audibly suspicious. ‘Tell him—’

  Hosh wasn’t waiting to carry any message. He was already half way down the steps.

  The light was strengthening all around him. The air was still but Hosh could hear faint noises beyond the deserted hutments and the vile stone-ringed hollow.

  It sounded as though a gentle wind was blowing through the fresh growth sprouting from the stumps of the trees. But Hosh knew it would be a good while yet before the strengthening sun warmed the island sufficiently to draw the day’s breeze from the sea. Whatever that noise might be, it was something new.

  The back of his neck crawled with unease as he ran for the Reef Eagle pavilion where the Aldabreshi slaves now lived. He threw open the unlocked door to the entrance hall. The slaves were all sleeping in huddles of quilts on the floor.

  Hosh’s foot found an empty bottle in the darkness. The brittle clatter of glass on tile startled the whole handful of them awake.

  ‘Quiet!’ Hosh risked a muted shout within the protection of these walls. ‘He has sent for you all, at once!’

  Lifelong submission beaten or bred into them meant that the slaves asked no questions. Hosh barely had time to recover his breath before he was alone in the deserted hallway as they all ran through the door.

  He stooped to pick up the bottle, sniffing at the uncorked neck. Palm wine. So at least one of the slaves was rebelling against Anskal’s ban on intoxicating liquors now that the Mandarkin had begun their wizardly training.

  Hosh sniffed the air but he couldn’t detect any hint of dream smoke beneath the rankness of sweaty quilts. Whoever was defying the wizard had the sense not to indulge themselves beyond a little liquor. It would be hard to hide such vice from Anskal, with the clinging aroma of dream smoke so persistent in cloth and hair.

  Hosh hurried to the last dwelling where the mainlanders slept. Like the Aldabreshin raiders, the Ensaimin mariners and Lescari militiamen posted a nightly watch. The shorter of the two Lescari had already seen Hosh’s frantic rush from building to building. All six stood ready on their terrace, waiting for confirmation of their summons.

  ‘Does he want us all?’ the Ensaimin man who’d tried to make a deal for Hosh’s arm ring demanded.

  Hosh didn’t blame him for his caution. They had all seen Anskal lash one of the raiders with whips of scalding crimson for daring to follow when only two of his companions had been sent for.

  He nodded. ‘Everyone, at once, and as silent as you can.’

  The men exchanged glances, reserving judgement though not about to refuse.

  ‘Do you know what he has in mind?’ The taller Lescari asked warily.

  Hosh shook his head. ‘But he told me to hurry, before I was caught.’

  As he spoke, the faint sound from the distant trees was growing louder. Now they all heard it, though Hosh couldn’t decide what it meant.

  ‘Come on,’ one of the Ensaimin said grimly.

  Hosh ran with them. As they crossed the open expanse between Anskal’s pavilion and the rest, the first hint of true dawn warmed the cold grey light.

  Hosh fell a few paces behind the last seaman as they climbed the steps. His hand strayed to his gilt and crystal ring. His upper arm remained painfully bruised.

  The Mandarkin was already surrounded by the other mageborn. As the mainlanders entered the audience chamber, Hosh hung back from the threshold. Anskal saw him and frowned.

  Hosh raised submissive hands, ready to retreat and wait on the terrace. That was where he was always sent when they were working their magic.

  Anskal surprised him. ‘No, you will stay here.’

  Hosh wasn’t about to disobey. He slid along the wall, keeping as many of the mageborn between him and Anskal as he could. All their attention was on the wizard.

  ‘What do you want with us?’ one of the Ensaimin men asked, a tense edge to his dutiful tone.

  Anskal gestured towards the scrying bowl and multi-hued magelight leaped upwards to dapple the walls with shifting images. Hosh had never seen the like and judging by their gasps, neither had the assembled mageborn. Everyone took a step to huddle in the middle of the room.

  It took a moment for Hosh to make sense of what he was seeing on the walls all around them. Then he recognised one of the prowling shadows for an armed and armoured man. With that round helm and the veil of chainmail hanging from it, the swordsman was clearly an Archipelagan. One of the Aldabreshin raiders gasped and reached for a blade before checking himself.

  Doubtless he’d realised he could do no harm to a mere shadow with that weapon. Since it was Anskal who had summoned these shifting images, Hosh fervently hoped the misty figures could do no damage either. Unless this was another of the Mandarkin’s brutal lessons.

  ‘Watch,’ Anskal ordered, ‘and your peril will become clearer.’

  Your peril, Hosh noted, not the Mandarkin’s.

  The translucent visions showed an overwhelming Aldabreshin force advancing through the trees. There could be no doubt that they were on this very island. The first swordsmen scouting ahead had reached the hollow with the killing ground and its compass of stone markers.

  ‘Galleys landed these men on this island’s far beaches after dusk last night.’ The Mandarkin smiled blithely as all the newly-discovered mageborn looked at him in horror.

  ‘They have come here to kill you. If you wish to live, you will have to kill them,’ he added unnecessarily. ‘You may not be slaughtered as easily as they doubtless hope, thanks to the gifts which I have given you, but you have seen for yourselves how a wizard’s defences can be overwhelmed by sufficient numbers.’

  Anskal paused to bow with apparent thanks to the women who had killed the trio of mercenaries.

  ‘There can be no doubt that they intend to kill you,’ he continued, dispassionate, ‘should that cost a thousand dead of their own. No wizard, however skilled, can sustain endless magic. Barely tutored as you are, you will soon be exhausted.’

  He pursed his lips. ‘Once you have been captured, from all that you have told me, you will be stripped naked to make certain that you cannot kill yourselves before you face unspeakable torment. My gifts will be no use to you then.’

  A cacophony of Archipelagan speech filled the room but none of the Aldabreshi or any of the island-born slaves were paying any more heed to Anskal. They were all shouting at each other.

  The Mandarkin slipped past a gesticulating slave to Hosh’s side. ‘What are they saying?’

  Hosh did his best to make sense of the frantic babble. ‘They are looking to the stars for guidance.’

  The satisfaction that curved Anskal’s smile filled Hosh with even deeper dread.

  ‘What course does the heavenly compass advise?’ the Mandarkin enquired.

  Hosh struggled to pluck some meaning from the rival dialects echoing back from the walls.

  ‘The Amethyst for clear thinking and for new ideas has moved in the arc of Honour. Not only of Honour. That part of the compass also sees omens for the outcome of ambition and that makes it doubly important that the Ruby is already there, standing for strength and courage.’

  One of the raiders had shouted down the rest to insist that since their magic couldn’t be denied, these stars were saying that they must now have the courage to interpret the heavens in the light of their changed circumstances. T
he time had come for new ideas, the swordsman insisted, his face twisted with anguish. The stars of the Bowl in that same arc of the sky always advocated the benefits of sharing knowledge as well as anything else.

  One of the women spoke into the momentary shock of silence at this radical notion. Hosh repeated her hesitant words for the wizard.

  ‘The Diamond, talisman against corruption is now in the arc of Death, alongside the Canthira Tree’s stars, talisman against decay. Perhaps that means if they can save themselves from being corrupted by their magic, they can save themselves from dying. If they stay true to themselves.’

  One of her sisters nodded, her eyes still sorely troubled even as faint hope relieved her fearful scowl.

  ‘She says that the Opal for truth is bright in the arc of Travel and Learning where the Mirror Bird urges wisdom through self-knowledge and reflection. The Mirror Bird itself is a talisman against magic’s corrupting influence. Then the Pearl that’s talisman against madness has shown its first new gleam in the arc for omens of children and the future, where the Walking Hawk urges vigilance at the same time as warning against unfounded suspicion while its stars are below the horizon.’

  As the other raiders and the slaves exchanged guilty glances and guiltier nods of agreement, Hosh recalled that the two moons, Opal and Pearl, the lesser jewels as they were known among the Archipelagans, were considered powerful talismans against dragons. Those beasts were the most violent and mindless manifestations of magic’s destructive might. But these people were not dragons.

  ‘They all know that they are not evil folk. This magic discovered in their blood is wholly unsought.’ Hosh swallowed hard before continuing. ‘So they say that the heavens are telling them they may use their magic to save themselves.’

  He supposed that he shouldn’t be so surprised. Those Archipelagans unable to live with the knowledge that they were mageborn had already killed themselves.

  ‘An excellent conclusion.’ Anskal was very well satisfied.

  Hosh stared at him. Didn’t the Mandarkin see how distressed the assembled Archipelagans were? How fearful, lest they had made some fatal error in their reasoning?