Darkening Skies (The Hadrumal Crisis)

by McKenna Juliet E.

  ‘We will not let that happen.’ Jilseth wasn’t offering reassurance so much as a plain statement of fact. ‘Powerful as he is, the Mandarkin is only one mage. The Archmage will be bringing a nexus of Hadrumal’s most powerful wizards to bear.’

  ‘While we attack the galleys and triremes?’ Corrain still couldn’t bring himself to contemplate this. ‘Where could we find ships ready to sail south with the equinox almost upon us? How could we possibly expect to reach that cursed anchorage with every warlord’s sea lanes between Relshaz and the corsairs’ island closed to us? A fleet of triremes would sink us before we were a day into the Archipelago.’

  ‘You think we would give Anskal such advance warning? When we know he is scrying all the island’s approaches for fear of an Archipelagan assault?’ Jilseth looked at him, exasperated. ‘Hadrumal’s mages will carry you and your men to the anchorage as easily as Tornauld has been ferrying bricks for you.’

  Corrain shook his head. ‘I cannot abandon Halferan. I cannot risk leaving Lady Ilysh a widow.’

  Jilseth narrowed her eyes. ‘She will hardly find herself as friendless as her mother did. Besides, you will not be killed.’

  ‘You can be certain of that?’ Corrain demanded.

  Jilseth pointed at Fitrel. ‘Ask him if he would trust me to keep his hide whole. I saved his skin and countless others from those corsairs,’ she said with unexpected bitterness.

  Surprised to hear an echo in the magewoman’s words of a swordsman’s guilt after his first kill, Corrain was momentarily lost for words.

  ‘No one will expect this attack,’ Jilseth stressed. ‘Neither Anskal nor the corsairs. They will be taken wholly unawares and the Mandarkin will have no chance to defend his new allies when he faces the Element Masters and Mistress of Hadrumal.’

  ‘Five galleys and three triremes.’ Despite his reluctance, Corrain found himself assessing the size of the troop he would need. He managed to turn his next ill-thought-out objection into a question. ‘Will you see those ships driven ashore for us to attack?’

  Now he was remembering the successful assault he’d led on the first corsair galley destroyed on Caladhria’s coast. Halferan’s men and the Tallat captain he’d duped into helping had killed those bastards without any need for magical aid.

  Could he persuade Captain Mersed to lend his own men and expertise to this fight? Perhaps, if he made it clear to Lord Tallat himself that the slate between their two baronies would be wiped entirely clean by such assistance. That Lord Tallat would be able to claim a share in the credit for making certain that that Caladhria would never again see raiders’ black ships on the dawn horizon.

  Then there were Lord Licanin’s men. They would be as eager as Halferan’s own men to kill the last remnants of the force which had slaughtered their comrades here in this very manor and forced them into that humiliating retreat to Karpis’s gloating shelter.

  What of Lord Antathele? He had shown every sign of late that he was willing to be friends with Halferan, even if that was only thanks to his abiding dislike of Baron Karpis.

  Fourteen days and Corrain would be seeing his fellow barons at the next quarterly parliament. Would it be better to try and convince them separately or to invite them all to dine and persuade them over some fine wine?

  ‘I might be able to raise the requisite force,’ Corrain said slowly. ‘Sometime after the Equinox—’

  ‘No.’ Jilseth shook her head in absolute denial. ‘We attack the day after tomorrow.’

  Corrain threw up his hands. ‘That is impossible.’

  His heart twisted within him though. How could he throw away the slightest chance of rescuing Hosh?

  He turned back to the magewoman.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Trydek’s Hall, Hadrumal

  37th of For-Autumn

  JILSETH KNEW THAT other mages were watching her. Some would doubtless be scrying from their rooms in more remote towers and quadrangles; those who didn’t have some excuse to visit a friend who could boast accommodation in Trydek’s first sanctuary.

  She could imagine what they were saying to each other. As fast as word of that astonishing Council meeting had spread through Hadrumal, it had been outstripped by fervid speculation as to what the Archmage planned to do.

  But there hadn’t been a whisper to indicate Planir’s intentions. So all those wizards could be doing was wondering why she was pacing back and forth across this flagstoned courtyard below Trydek’s tower.

  The answer to that question was simple. Because she couldn’t bear to sit down. Not until Tornauld brought them the final pieces for this game of white raven which the Archmage was planning. When the Mandarkin mage wouldn’t merely be driven out of some painted forest to be dropped back in a box.

  That was another reason why Jilseth didn’t want leisure to sit and think. To contemplate the renegade Anskal’s fate, however richly he might deserve it.

  Wizards didn’t take part in warfare. She had learned that at her mageborn grandmother’s knee. She had never imagined that she would see the day when wizards made war on each other. Still less that she would be part of it.

  Jilseth turned on her heel to begin crossing the quadrangle again. All at once, Tornauld and Corrain appeared at the end of her path. Kusint, the Forest lad was standing behind them.

  She quickened her pace. ‘Well?’

  Tornauld grinned. ‘Lord Tallat will be honoured to lend his men’s valour to such a noble enterprise.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Jilseth would have liked to hear that news with her own ears, if only to save herself this past morning of frustration.

  Until Planir had reminded her of the way in which she had both scared and humiliated Lord Tallat in front of all his peers when the parliament had last met in Kevil. When the hapless nobleman had been boasting how Corrain had secured Hadrumal’s aid to drive off the vile corsairs. The nobleman had been wholly unaware of the captain’s desperate lies, as indeed he still was.

  Lord Antathele, only recently inheriting his father’s honours, had clearly witnessed their encounter. Jilseth couldn’t doubt that, after seeing his wide-eyed apprehension when she arrived on his threshold with Corrain. She certainly didn’t think that Lord Antathele’s haste to pledge his support was only rooted in his family’s dislike of Baron Karpis.

  ‘Where is the Archmage?’ Corrain asked with strained courtesy. ‘We should tell him our news.’

  The Forest lad Kusint didn’t say a word. He was looking around the quadrangle, overawed.

  ‘This way.’ Jilseth led them all up the stairs to the Archmage’s broad sitting room.

  The chairs had all been pushed right back against the windowed walls and the long table was piled high with books garnered from seemingly every shelf and dusty storage chest in Hadrumal’s libraries. The closest texts that Jilseth could see left lying open were not merely printed in Tormalin letters. She could see angular Soluran writing and the arcane Mountain script.

  The room was full of wizards. Corrain and Kusint advanced barely a handful of paces before halting in silent accord.

  ‘I think that the Hearth Master will agree,’ Canfor regarded Merenel with ill-concealed irritation, ‘that I should go to this island.’

  ‘Since we are embarking on such a vital endeavour,’ Ely immediately concurred.

  Planir broke off from his conversation with Troanna and Herion of Wellery’s Hall.

  ‘Much as I value your expertise, Canfor,’ he said firmly, ‘I also prefer to bet on certainties wherever I can. With so much nexus magic to be worked in such close proximity, I want established quartets addressing themselves to the complexities of quintessential wizardry. As you say, this is such a critical venture for Hadrumal.’

  There could be no doubting his sincerity, his words coloured by no hint of rebuke.

  ‘Archmage.’ Canfor acknowledged Planir with a stiff nod.

  Jilseth wondered that the tall wizard’s neck didn’t crack with the effort of it.

&nbs
p; ‘Who is to square our circle without the Hearth Master?’ Ely looked at Planir, doing her best to hide her anxiety.

  ‘Sannin.’ The Archmage smiled.

  ‘Yes?’ The elegant magewoman looked across the room. She and Rafrid were poring over a leather-bound tome so vast and weighty that the Cloud Master had brought it here in a lattice of magic complete with its own lectern.

  ‘You will work with Ely, Galen and Canfor.’ Courteous as Planir was, that was clearly an instruction, not a request.

  ‘Naturally, Archmage.’ Sannin smiled at Ely. ‘I think we’ll find our nexus all the better for a balance of two women and two men across the antagonistic elements.’

  Troanna looked up from a faded scroll with a snort of derision. ‘I have never found any truth in such assertions.’

  ‘But you are exceptional, Flood Mistress, in this as in so much else,’ Planir observed.

  Once again, his demeanour was wholly sincere.

  Troanna smiled without humour. ‘Which is fortunate, given the circumstances.’

  Kalion looked at Jilseth and Tornauld and at Corrain with Kusint standing uncertainly behind them. ‘Well?’

  ‘Lord Tallat begs for the honour of being of such service to Caladhria and to Hadrumal.’ Tornauld grinned. ‘And I think he’d welcome some help dredging the ditches in his low-lying pastures, if I have some time on my hands when we’re done.’

  ‘Congratulations, Archmage,’ Troanna said drily. ‘The mainlanders are indeed sufficiently reassured, if they’re once again willing to ask us to save their menials from honest labouring.’

  ‘I would like to think they’ll have cause to show us rather more respect when this day’s work is done.’ Kalion shot her an exasperated glare before addressing Planir. ‘So, we now have cohorts of guardsmen from Halferan, Tallat, Antathele and Licanin to carry to this island?’

  Lord Licanin had shown no hesitation, when Corrain had explained how the wizards of Hadrumal were offering Caladhria the chance to put the last of the corsairs to the sword once and for all, to settle all accounts between them.

  Jilseth had also been unexpectedly touched by the grey-haired nobleman’s concern for her own well-being. Was she fully recovered, he had asked, from her indisposition?

  She was, she had assured him. She was, she told herself resolutely, as she had done countless times already today. She could not allow herself the slightest doubt; either that her wizardry would desert her or that some wild magic would run riot beyond her control.

  Besides, Planir had said he was only betting on certainties. He wouldn’t be sending her to that island if he had any reservations about her abilities.

  ‘Quite so, Hearth Master.’ The Archmage smiled confidently at Kalion. ‘A simple enough task for the elemental nexus composed of the strongest and most proficient mages in Hadrumal.’

  ‘Where’s that map of the island?’ Rafrid looked at Corrain.

  ‘I—’ The Caladhrian looked at the table.

  Jilseth couldn’t see any sign of the chart which he had so painstakingly drawn, complete with every detail that his soldier’s eye had noted during his enslavement. Planir had been more than ready to accept Corrain’s suggestions for the disposition of their troops as they planned this attack.

  ‘It’s here.’ Nolyen looked up from the far corner of the room where he sat at a small writing desk. An emerald glimmer challenged the clouded light coming through the window behind him. He had been scrying over the corsairs’ anchorage almost without pause for these past three days.

  Rafrid took a step towards him, stopped and swallowed an oath. ‘Dastennin’s —’

  Velindre appeared in the perilously limited space within the crowded room.

  Even the placid Herion was startled into a cross exclamation. ‘What is so urgent—?’

  ‘This.’ Velindre gestured towards Nolyen. ‘By your leave.’

  She didn’t wait for him to answer. Her swirl of azure magic carried the scrying bowl from his writing desk and set it on the carpeted floor in the centre of the room.

  ‘Mellitha has seen this.’ Velindre passed her hand over the bowl and jade magelight flickered wildly.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ Troanna said tartly as every wizard in the room crowded around trying to see.

  The Flood Mistress snapped her fingers and emerald light blazed in the shallow bowl. A vision floated high above the rippling water. Not merely the usual reflection that a scrying spell carried from some distant place. This was a fully realised image, complete with depth and detail.

  Far more akin to the images drawn forth by necromancy, Jilseth instantly realised. What spells had the Flood Mistress been working on with Ely and Galen?

  ‘Aldabreshi ships?’ Kalion was staring at the vision, puce with indignation. ‘Why did Mellitha not see these earlier? I thought that she was scrying those neighbouring warlords.’

  ‘She has been watching the domains who sent that first attack. These have come up from the south.’ Velindre looked at Planir. ‘We knew that the Aldabreshi would renew their attack. The southerly warlords have moved sooner than we expected.’

  ‘Driven on by some omens or merely the stars?’ Kalion seemed to be taking this as a personal affront.

  Planir contemplated the ships. Was he trying to tally them up? As far as Jilseth could see, those galleys must surely carry a considerably larger force than the first Archipelagan assault.

  ‘As you say,’ he said after a long moment, ‘while this is unwelcome news, it is hardly unexpected. However inconvenient its timing, we cannot let this deter us.’

  ‘Archmage!’

  Every wizard in the room turned, startled, to look at Corrain.

  Nodding at Kusint’s final whisper, the Caladhrian squared his shoulders. ‘We can kill those corsairs, as long as you keep Anskal and his newfound wizards off us. But we cannot fight that number of Aldabreshi.’

  ‘Then you had better defeat the corsairs,’ Canfor told him curtly, ‘before these Archipelagans arrive.’

  ‘It would be better yet,’ Planir rubbed a thoughtful hand across his bearded chin, ‘if these Archipelagans don’t arrive until we have all completed our business with these corsairs and their wizards.’

  ‘Archmage?’ Galen answered Planir’s swift glance.

  ‘I have a new task for your nexus.’ The Archmage nodded at the vision of the scores of unexpected ships. ‘You’re to set the tide running against these vessels as soon as night falls. Moreover, I want them so thoroughly cloaked in mist that they have no chance to take their bearings from land or sky.

  ‘This must be a subtle working,’ he warned. ‘Nothing to make them think that anything more than contrary winds and currents are holding them back. I don’t want them suspecting that there’s any more magic at work in these islands than whatever self-inflicted folly is going to rid them of this Mandarkin and all his followers, at least as far as they are concerned.’

  ‘That won’t win the Caladhrians much time,’ Velindre observed, ‘if the magic is to be so subtle.’

  ‘Then we’ll work fast,’ Corrain growled from his corner by the door.

  ‘Such a working will need to be led by water magic,’ Canfor said sharply.

  ‘Quite so.’ Planir smiled at Ely.

  ‘Archmage.’ She couldn’t help an apprehensive glance at Galen.

  The stolid earth mage gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

  ‘You are more than capable, Ely,’ Troanna said with asperity.

  ‘But what of the Mandarkin’s captive mageborn?’ Merenel asked. ‘If that second nexus is not here to receive them—?’

  Planir looked around the assembled wizards, his face grave. ‘That option is no longer open to us.’

  ‘Archmage?’ Herion voiced the gathering’s growing concern.

  ‘To confine each of those mageborn in turn, with the nexus on the island suppressing their affinity—’ he nodded at Jilseth ‘—before translocating them here against their will to be held by more quintes
sential magic—’ he gestured towards Sannin ‘—that will take time which we no longer have. Not if this business is to be concluded before those Archipelagan ships arrive.

  ‘So we will offer them a more straight-forward, if more brutal choice,’ he said coldly. ‘We will confine their affinity and press them hard. If they yield, we will bring them here and we may hope to convince them of Hadrumal’s benevolence and offer them sanctuary in Suthyfer. If they struggle against us, they will most likely destroy themselves.’

  He looked at Corrain and Kusint. ‘If any should survive, you may put them to the sword. That will be a mercy,’ he assured the Caladhrian and the Soluran, ‘rather than leaving them to the Aldabreshi’s skinning knives. They will have lost all their wits along with their affinity.’

  The two of them nodded with what seemed callous indifference to Jilseth. The prospect nauseated her.

  ‘That is now our nexus’s task, once we’re on the island?’ Merenel looked equally sick. ‘Confining their magic?’

  ‘No.’ Planir shook his head. ‘Disciplining the mageborn thus, any mageborn, is the burden of the Archmage and Hadrumal’s Element Masters and Mistresses. The oaths of our offices forbid us to delegate such onerous duty to any wizard of lesser rank.’

  ‘Then no wizard of lesser rank can ever have the temerity to attempt such fell magics.’ There was no hint of mercy in Kalion’s eyes. Then he grimaced with frank distaste. ‘So we are to expand the working we’re directing against the Mandarkin.’

  ‘Expand it and refine it.’ Rafrid looked inward, contemplative.

  ‘Is this wise, Archmage?’ Troanna asked with uncharacteristic hesitation.

  ‘The alternative is to condemn all these mageborn to the same fate as Anskal.’ Planir’s expression was unreadable. ‘Are we willing to do that? Masters? Mistress?’

  For a long moment no one moved. Jilseth wasn’t sure if anyone in the room was still breathing.

  Troanna shook her head, in almost the same instant as Kalion and Rafrid.