The Huntsman's Amulet (Society of the Sword Volume 2)

by Hamilton, Duncan M.

  They stopped at the arch on the left side of the front square, which led underneath the building and into another quadrangle.

  ‘This is Bannerets’ Square, home to the Order of Knights Banneret. They were the finest warriors of their time. They served as bodyguards, protecting a mage from physical harm while they shaped magic and while they were exhausted by the effort it required.’

  Soren looked around and tried to imagine it full of people, training, returning home, or preparing to depart for adventures around the empire. It sent a tingle across his skin to think he was connected to all of this.

  ‘In return for their services, the mages gave the bannerets the Gift of Grace. It made them far more potent than they could ever be alone. It was of course in the mages’ own interests to enhance their bannerets; by ensuring that their protectors were better warriors than their enemies, they were also ensuring their own safety.

  ‘When one became a banneret, one was given an affinity with magical energy, the source of which was known as “the Fount”.’

  Soren immediately thought of the blue glow. Was that the Fount?

  ‘The Fount is not any one thing as its name might suggest. It’s nebulous, as much an idea as a reality, and despite centuries of study it was never truly understood, but it is the spring from which all magical power flowed, so that was the name the energy came to be known as.

  ‘After many years of considering the matter, I’ve come to believe that none of the explanations were entirely wrong, they were simply never able to go far enough to fully explain the Fount or any of its effects. Perhaps it was that the minds of men are not capable of ever fully appreciating its intricacies. Not that it matters anyway, enough was known to utilise it and shape it — and as this knowledge grew, so too did the power of the mages.’

  Soren’s mind raced with possibilities. How far did his affinity with the Fount go? ‘Does that mean I can use it also? Shape it?’

  ‘No. Bannerets didn’t use it. They derived benefit from it, unlike ordinary people, but that is all. The affinity bestowed upon them enhanced their speed and strength generally. When a mage channelled the Fount into them, this enhancement became more pronounced. In its most extreme form, “the Moment”, bannerets became truly fearsome.’

  Almost everything Berengarius said raised another question for Soren. Without any mage to channel the Fount into him, how had Soren experienced the Gift, and the Moment also? He was ravenous for answers.

  ‘To the surrounding world, they appeared to gain incredible strength and speed. To the bannerets, it appeared as though all around them became slow and weak. This gift was also an important component in the bond between a banneret and the mage he served. In order for a banneret to continue to enjoy the benefit of the Gift of Grace, he required an on-going connection to the Fount that was facilitated by his master. In this, the mages were able to manipulate their servants and ensure their continued loyalty. In the event of a banneret turning on his master, his connection to the Fount would be severed.’

  ‘How is it that I’ve experienced these things if there are no mages left?’ Soren said, unable to contain his curiosity.

  ‘That’s where things become complicated,’ Berengarius said. ‘As much as I’m enjoying talking with you, it’s been a very long time since I have spoken with anyone, and I must admit that I’m tired; too tired to start on that topic. We can continue in the morning.’

  Soren wanted to press Berengarius to continue. The thought of stopping now was difficult to accept, but he realised that he had already learned far more than he would have with a week in the library on his own. He quelled his impatience and nodded in agreement.

  ‘There are rooms on this square that were always kept prepared for visitors, and they have not been disturbed. You will find one of those more comfortable than the floor of the library. If you are hungry, there is food in the dining hall.’ He gestured to the building opposite the archway before leaving.

  Food in the dining hall? Soren wondered if the years of isolation had caused Berengarius to go a little mad. What food was he likely to find in a dining hall that had been unused for hundreds of years?

  Soren fetched his things and returned to Bannerets’ Square. As he walked across it with his pack slung over his shoulder, he considered the situation. On the one hand, there was a sense of homecoming. This had been the centre of the world for men like him for hundreds of years. On the other hand, there was a feeling of loneliness knowing that he was the only banneret there, and perhaps the only true banneret as Berengarius described them, alive in the world.

  His mind still raced with questions. How had he become a banneret if there were no mages to give him the affinity to the Fount? How had he experienced the Gift if there were no mages to channel the Fount to him? He was excited, agitated and impatient, but exhausted also and still suffering from a nauseating headache. He had forgotten all about the drones as he listened to Berengarius, but could not discount the possibility that the old man had sent them to attack him and he needed to stay on his guard.

  He found a room on the ground floor of the building beside the dining hall. Like the other two squares, this was cloistered. Inside the arcaded walkway there were a series of doors and windows. These led to private rooms, once homes to bannerets. He picked one at random, which was small, but comfortably appointed. He dumped his pack unceremoniously on the table by the window, kicked off his boots and collapsed onto the first proper bed he had seen in some time.

  He worried that if Berengarius had sent the drones to attack him, he might seek to do Soren harm while he slept. It was a danger, but Soren was so exhausted he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long. If the old man was a mage, as Soren still suspected, he could have already killed Soren with little difficulty. They were the only comforting thoughts he could come up with before he fell asleep.

  Chapter 13

  The Gift of Grace

  Soren awoke abruptly. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and he’d have sworn that he had only put his head on the pillow moments before. Nonetheless it was bright outside, and it had been near dusk when he had arrived at the room. He felt confused for several minutes, with brief flashes of dreams that were so vivid he had difficulty separating them from reality.

  It took enormous willpower to get up. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment to gather his wits. He was absolutely ravenous, as though he had not eaten in weeks. He took a little food from his pack and ate it quickly, not a full meal but enough to quell the hunger pangs in his stomach. He thought of Berengarius’s parting words and wondered if it was worth taking a look in the dining hall. He couldn’t see any way there would be food there. However, his curiosity about what was in the dining hall was tempered against his curiosity for what Berengarius had to say. His hunger for that was far greater.

  He was about to leave his room when he realised his sword belt was still hanging where he had left it the night before. He went back for it; he couldn’t allow his eagerness for knowledge to cause him to drop his guard. Berengarius was still a stranger, and despite his seeming friendliness and eagerness to talk, there was still too much about him that Soren did not know.

  When he arrived at the Library, the old man was sitting at the same desk he had been at when Soren first encountered him, albeit with a larger accumulation of books in front of him.

  ‘Good morning, Banneret,’ he said. ‘I trust you slept well?’

  ‘Yes, very well, thank you,’ Soren said.

  ‘I thought we might walk again while we talk.’

  Soren wondered why the old man was telling him all of this — starved of company and conversation probably — but he was too eager to hear more to question his good luck.

  They left the Library and made their way through the College in silence until they reached the domed room.

  ‘Impressive, isn’t it,’ Berengarius said, as they circled around the pool. ‘It’s called the Hall of Reflection, perhaps because of the mirror su
rface of the water or the reflective mood it puts most people in when they enter; I’m really not sure. No vibration or impact will disturb the water’s perfectly smooth surface, nor will it evaporate or develop any organic growth.’

  Soren looked at the illuminated water and suppressed the temptation to throw something in to see what would happen. They stepped out of the cool, shady Hall of Reflection into the dull daylight outside, and beyond the confines of the College. The heavy cloud hung in the sky overhead, as it had the whole time Soren was there, without so much as the slightest break to afford a glimpse of blue sky. Berengarius noticed Soren’s skyward gaze.

  ‘It’s been like that for a very long time. It seems to be worse over the city, and I think it goes some of the way to explaining why nothing ever grows here. I don’t recall the last time I saw blue sky or sunlight.’

  ‘The drones?’ Soren said, seeing the chance to discover if the College walls kept them out, or if Berengarius could influence them.

  ‘No need to worry. They won’t come near us.’

  Soren forced himself not to frown. It was still not the answer he was looking for, but he felt confident now that Berengarius had some influence over them.

  ‘I thought I would show you the Imperial Palace, which is over there.’ He pointed to the building on the left-hand side of the square.

  ‘The eighth emperor designed the layout of this part of the city. He left the greatest mark on Vellin-Ilora. Before him, the heart of the city was over that way,’ he said indicating the direction with a gesture down toward the harbour and the ancient looking castle. ‘This square was intended to be the centre of power of the entire Empire. All of the institutions fundamental to the running of the Empire were given a home around the square.’

  Berengarius stopped for a moment and looked around, as though seeing things that Soren could not. Soren wondered what the place must have been like with powerful magic being used all around. It was difficult to imagine now, in that empty, silent place.

  ‘The use of magic grew rapidly with the rise of the Empire. Of course it had been used in various forms and places before then, but never on the same scale or with the same ambition and confidence. It was not long before the mages started employing bodyguards, to allow them to concentrate on their magical endeavours without fear for their physical safety.

  ‘The first bannerets were merely soldiers who excelled in their profession. They were chosen from the ranks of the Imperial Army, those who had proven themselves brave, competent and physically capable. Each banneret protected a mage, and carried their banner. The College perfected a way of giving them an affinity to the Fount by bombarding them with magic during a process that took a full day. That was the Gift. After a time, bannerets became a class of their own, and service became a tradition in families of that class.’

  After so long speculating about the Gift with no way of knowing if he was right, Soren felt giddy to hear it being talked of in such a casual way.

  ‘The Gift was an amazing thing. The residue of the magic used to give it to bannerets made them faster and stronger, but when a mage channelled the Fount into his banneret, they really became a class apart. For them the world seemed to slow.’

  Hearing Berengarius describe the things that Soren had felt as though they were common occurrences nearly made him laugh with bemusement.

  ‘There was a danger however. While under the Gift’s influence, they could place far more strain on their bodies than they were intended to take, literally tearing muscle and breaking bone through exertion. The more of the Fount channelled in, the stronger the influence of the Gift, until the banneret went into the Moment, a truly devastating state. It required the banneret to be completely flooded by the Fount. If the state was allowed to continue for too long, it would burn the banneret out, whether they exerted themselves or not. When the Moment ended, they would simply drop dead.’

  The giddy excitement Soren was feeling was replaced by anxiety when he remembered that he had already experienced this state. How close had he been to the point of no return?

  ‘The Moment was so named, because that was as long as it could be maintained. Even when used within comparatively safe limits, the banneret would fall unconscious when the Fount was cut off and the Moment ended. It was an extreme; rarely used, and only when the mage and his banneret were in mortal peril.

  ‘Once granted, the Gift of Grace could never be completely taken away, but there would be no way for the banneret to bolster it on his own. Those with power always guard it jealously, if they have sense that is, and while the mages wished their protectors to be powerful, there was always the danger that they would create the instrument of their own destruction. So long as the mages controlled access to the Fount, they retained this ability to de-claw the bannerets when needed. Eventually, the bannerets found their own way to the Fount, and that is what led to the wars and the fall of the Empire, and, ultimately, you.’

  Chapter 14

  A Truth Revealed

  The palace’s façade was long and three stories high. The lower two levels had large arched windows, while the top level had smaller square ones. A colonnaded portico concealed the entrance. Soren and Berengarius walked up the steps that led to the doorway to the Imperial Palace.

  ‘The palace was a statement of wealth, power and permanency. In the same way the Hall of Reflection at the College was intended to provoke a reaction among all who entered, the Imperial Palace was intended to send that message to all who laid eyes on it.’

  It was certainly that. It was the most impressive building that Soren had ever seen, and it was difficult not to stop and stare at its proud and imposing magnificence.

  Their heels clacked on marble floor as they walked. The hall was lined with columns that reached up to an ornately plastered ceiling high above. Dome shaped skylights filled the hall with light and busts on pedestals sat between each of the columns, which Soren took as being likenesses of the emperors. They continued through the hall and on into the next room.

  ‘This is the throne room. It’s where generations of emperors held their court and it’s where the fifty-seventh was killed, along with his family. Just there,’ Berengarius said, pointing to an innocuous spot on the floor.

  ‘Murdered by the sorcerers,’ Soren said, thinking aloud.

  ‘We were not sorcerers,’ Berengarius roared. His voice rose like a winter gale and blasted through the throne room, sounding as though it came from many different places at once.

  His voice reverberated in Soren’s chest and ears and seemed to tug at his very essence. It was the first time Berengarius had shown any sign of bad temper, but his change in demeanour was insignificant compared to the way he had displayed his displeasure.

  Soren didn’t know how to react. What happened could only mean that Berengarius was a mage, and to Soren that meant danger. His initial response was defensive and to reach for his sword; he was now very glad he’d turned back to get it that morning, but Berengarius showed no further signs of hostility.

  The old man took a deep breath and calmed himself. ‘I apologise. That was uncalled for. I dislike the use of the word “sorcerer”. It carries with it many negative connotations, which are not appropriate. The term was used for a very specific type of mage and even then sparingly, but you weren’t to know that. Remember also that it is the victorious that write history, not the vanquished, and that victory in affairs as significant as those that followed the killing of the emperor rarely leaves one with clean hands.’

  ‘You are a mage then,’ Soren said, his hand still near to the hilt of his sword.

  ‘Yes, I don’t suppose that there’s any reason to deny it now, although I did not lie to you entirely. I was charged with the custody of the Library a very long time ago, but perhaps not in the role that I might have implied. There will be time to correct any misconceptions I may have created later. It will be easier if I explain everything in sequence.’

  ‘Why are you telling me all of this?’ Soren
said, unable to ignore the question any longer.

  ‘To help you understand. Because you are a throwback to an era long passed and that must be difficult for you to comprehend. Because I and my kind bear some responsibility for that, even though so much time has passed.

  ‘So, where was I? Ah yes, Saludor the Fifty-Seventh. His death marked the start of the Mage Wars. We decided hereditary leadership was the cause of the Empire’s problems. Corruption, profligacy, incompetence, and dynastic wars were the characteristics of the later Empire. We knew we could do better, but not everyone agreed.

  ‘Perhaps we were arrogant, but there was no risk of a member of the Council seeking to establish their own dynasty, as the affinity to the Fount needed to shape magic renders men and women sterile. Unable to have children.’

  Interesting, but Soren didn’t see what it had to do with him.

  ‘In order to learn to create a close enough affinity with the Fount, a mage had to begin his training at a very young age; no later than ten years old or so. It seemed like a reasonable price to pay for the power and longevity one gained,’ Berengarius said.

  There was a grave, sympathetic tone to his voice, which puzzled Soren. ‘Could they not have had a family and then started their training later?’ Soren said, now realising the implication this might have for him.

  ‘No, that wasn’t possible; it would be too late to develop any real connection or skill, beyond the ability to conjure up base parlour tricks.

  ‘At some point before this all happened, I don’t know when exactly, some of the bannerets developed the ability to draw from the Fount on their own. Not all of them, you understand, but enough. You see, normal bannerets didn’t have the same limitation imposed on them that we did. They were simply recipients of the Fount, rather than conduits for it. They remained fertile. I believe exposure to the Fount caused an accumulation in them over the generations, with son following father into the ranks, eventually leading to those who were born with the ability to connect to the Fount. It was something that had never been experienced by mages as we could not, cannot have children. How were we to have known?