Soul of Sorcery (Book 5)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  Another murmur went through the lords.

  Mazael took a deep breath.

  He need only say nothing, and he could kill to his heart’s content.

  “No,” he said.

  The lords looked at him. He saw the loathing in Toraine’s black eyes.

  “We have a chance,” said Mazael, walking closer to the keep, “to make the Grim Marches stronger. To recover the losses we suffered during the Malrag invasion.”

  Toraine snorted. “What sort of foolishness is this?”

  Richard lifted a hand. “Elaborate.”

  “We ask the chieftains of the Tervingi to swear as your vassals,” said Mazael, “and in exchange, we permit them to settle in the ravaged eastern lands of the Grim Marches.”

  A cry of outrage greeted his proposal, as Mazael expected. Yet Richard did not blink, and many lords looked intrigued.

  “Why?” said Richard.

  “The Malrags razed the villages of the eastern Grim Marches and put their peasants to the sword,” said Mazael. “The lands lie waste and empty, and it will take generations for those villages to rise again. Unless we extract oaths of loyalty from the Tervingi and settle them in the east.”

  “Why would we possibly do that?” said Lord Astor. “My lord Mazael, you are a puissant knight, but the Tervingi are savages. You’ve seen the carnage they wrought.”

  “But they are not Malrags,” said Tanam. “We could reason with them.”

  “This is ridiculous folly,” said Toraine. “We should kill the Tervingi, all of them. We may never again have the opportunity.”

  “And we may never again have this opportunity to strengthen the Grim Marches,” said Mazael. “For we have been weakened, my lords. The Malrags inflicted grievous losses upon us. All of us have lost knights, armsmen, and peasants, and how many of us have lost sons and brothers to the fighting? We do not have the numbers we once did. How long before the neighboring lords begin claiming our lands? How long until the Malrags return?”

  “Some of the barbarian prisoners,” said Robert, “claimed the Tervingi fled their homeland to escape Malrags. They might make willing allies against the Malrags, should they return.”

  “They will turn on us the moment we lower our guard,” said Toraine.

  “Not if Lord Richard swears them as vassals and gives them lands,” said Mazael. “The Tervingi want a new homeland. And if we give them that, they shall give us fighting men and taxes in return.”

  “They would rather conquer us,” said Lord Astor, frowning.

  “Undoubtedly,” said Mazael, “but they cannot. So they must deal with reality, as must we. The Grim Marches need men. The Tervingi need a homeland and a safe refuge from the Malrags. Perhaps we can make each other stronger.”

  “This is the rankest folly,” said Toraine. “You ought to be hung as a traitor, my lord Mazael.”

  “Perhaps,” said Mazael, looking at Richard, “but that is not your decision to make.”

  He waited for Lord Richard’s answer.

  ###

  Aegidia lifted her head.

  “I say,” she said at last, “that your plan is simpleminded folly, Ragnachar.”

  Ragnachar’s gray eyes narrowed. He still looked calm, but Riothamus knew the hrould well enough to see the murderous fury there.

  “You had your chance,” she said. “You said you could defeat the knights and claim a new homeland. Well, you tried and you failed. Therefore we must now follow Athanaric’s counsel.”

  “A counsel of weakness,” said Ragnachar. “He would have us crawl on our bellies and lick the boots of the knights.”

  “And you would slay us all,” said Aegidia. “Rather than show the slightest hint of weakness or mercy.”

  “Mercy is a lie told by the weak,” said Ragnachar. “If the Tervingi are strong enough, they will defeat the knights and claim the Grim Marches for their own.”

  A sudden inspiration came to Riothamus.

  “And if the Tervingi are weak,” shouted Riothamus, drawing surprised stares from Athanaric and Aegidia and the others, “if we are weary and beaten, do we deserve to die?”

  “The strong deserve life,” said Ragnachar.

  “That does not answer my question, hrould. What does your Urdmoloch teach?” said Riothamus. “If the Tervingi are weak, if we are defeated, do we deserve to live? Do your thains deserve to live, if the knights have beaten them? Do their wives and mothers and daughters deserve to live, if their men have been defeated? What is the teaching of the Urdmoloch, hrould? Do they deserve to live?”

  Ragnachar said nothing.

  “Come,” said Riothamus, “you are valiant in battle. Surely you are not unmanned by mere words. Answer the question!”

  Ragnachar’s eyes blazed in fury, his lips thinning into a white line beneath his gray beard. Riothamus drew on his magic, ready to defend himself, though he doubted he could unleash enough to stop Ragnachar.

  “Yes!” snarled Ragnachar. “The weak deserve to perish! If the Tervingi prove themselves weak, then they too deserve to perish! All of them!”

  Silence answered him. A few of the thains, both Ragnachar's and Athanaric’s, muttered and fingered their swords.

  “I would prefer,” said Athanaric, “that the Tervingi lived. Even if we must make peace with the knights to do so. I will not sacrifice our nation because your precious Urdmoloch delights in the cruel slaughter of those unable to defend themselves.”

  Ragnachar growled and looked around, eyes narrowed. Riothamus had never seen him so angry. He wondered if Ragnachar would cut him down, or attack Athanaric, or try to kill Aegidia before she could work her magic.

  Riothamus braced himself, preparing to summon a spell.

  “Fools, all of you,” said Ragnachar, voice quiet. “Go and crawl to the knights if you wish, and beg for their mercy. I shall have no part of it.”

  He stalked away without another word.

  ###

  Molly watched her father stand before Lord Richard. The tension between Mazael and Toraine was like the brief calm before a storm. Had Richard Mandragon not been there, they would have killed each other by now. Or, more likely, Mazael would have killed Toraine.

  How he struggled against his Demonsouled blood.

  Just as she did.

  “We must be bold,” said Lord Richard, “and seize the opportunities that appear before us. These Tervingi are such an opportunity. Now that defeat has humbled them, perhaps they will listen to reason. We shall offer the Tervingi a choice. If they swear vassalage to me and to my heirs, I will give them lands upon which to settle.”

  Lord Robert frowned. “None of our lands, I hope.”

  “Of course not,” said Richard. “The Malrags did not discriminate between lords and peasants. Numerous estates and fiefs lie unclaimed. If the Tervingi agree to swear vassalage, then I shall settle them upon these lands. Their chieftains shall become my vassals, no different than any other lords of the Grim Marches.”

  “And if the barbarians refuse?” said Toraine.

  Richard shrugged. “Then we kill them all.”

  “So be it,” said Mazael, his face hard.

  “Now let us select lords for the embassy to the Tervingi,” said Richard.

  Toraine laughed. “The barbarians will simply kill any emissaries. Send someone you dislike, father. Perhaps you should send Lord Mazael, since he is so keen to make peace with the barbarian rabble.”

  Mazael grinned at Toraine like a wolf showing its teeth. “Perhaps he should send you, my lord Toraine. Surely the Tervingi would not dare to attack such a mighty warrior.”

  “I’ll go,” Molly heard herself say.

  All eyes fell on her, and she saw Romaria raise an eyebrow.

  “Your valor becomes you, Lady Molly,” said Richard. “Might I ask why?”

  Molly could not have said why she volunteered. Perhaps she did not want to destroy an entire nation, to help kill on the scale that Corvad had once dreamed. If she managed to outlive Mazael, she
would one day be lady of Castle Cravenlock. Best to assert herself before the lords of the Grim Marches, to show that she could do more than kill and dance through the shadows.

  Or perhaps she only wanted to see that surprised expression on Mazael’s face.

  “Because,” said Molly, “my magic lets me walk through the shadows. No need to sacrifice any more lives today, my lord. If the Tervingi are treacherous, I will escape them with ease, and then you can kill them all.”

  “Ha! A sound plan,” said Sir Tanam. “You’ve a knack for finding clever women, my lord Mazael.”

  A rumble of laughter went up from the lords.

  “If you are sincere,” said Lord Richard, his cold black eyes holding her own. He looked a great deal like both Toraine and Lucan. Yet his gaze lacked the burning hatred of Toraine or the festering resentment of Lucan, and his black eyes held only cold calculation.

  “If you are indeed sincere,” said Richard, “then you would have my gratitude.”

  “I am,” said Molly.

  “So be it, then,” said Richard.

  ###

  “I will propose an alliance with the knights,” said Athanaric. “I will ask that they bestow lands upon us, and leave us in peace. In exchange, we will fight alongside them in war, and provide them a share of our crops and herds.”

  “Tribute,” said one of the thains with derision.

  “Aye,” said Athanaric, “and they defeated us, did they not? So some tribute is to be expected. Have not Tervingi headmen always sworn to their hroulds? There is no dishonor or cowardice in making an alliance with a strong overlord. If we do, the knights will be obligated to defend us. And if the Malrags come over the Great Mountains, then we can stand together to fight them off.”

  “And what if the knights refuse your terms?” said a headman. “What if they demand that we become slaves, or simply want to wipe us out?”

  “Then we fight,” said Athanaric. “I will accept that the Tervingi nation must become a sworn thain of the knights. But I will never accept slavery for our people! And if the knights choose to fight us…well, we shall meet them blade for blade. But perhaps they shall see sense.”

  “Very well,” said Aegidia. “I will go to the overlords of the knights and ask for their terms.”

  “No,” said Athanaric. “The knights might try to capture you.”

  “I am the Guardian,” said Aegidia. “They would not dare lay their hands upon me.”

  “They are foreign,” said Athanaric, “and may not respect our customs. I will go and treat with them.”

  “No,” said Arnulf. “If you are slain, who will then command? Ragnachar? He would lead us to ruin.”

  “I will ask no man,” said Athanaric, “to endure a danger I myself am too craven to face. If you are slain, Guardian, then we will have no defense from the knights’ wizards.”

  “Better that I go,” said Aegidia. “I am old and used up, and have only a few years left. The Tervingi nation needs you, Athanaric…”

  “It needs both of you, Guardian and hrould,” said Riothamus. “Which is why I shall present our terms to the knights.”

  “No,” said Athanaric and Aegidia in unison.

  “Yes,” answered Riothamus. “I am the best choice. I am the Guardian’s apprentice, so I can speak on behalf of the Tervingi nation. Yet if I am slain, it would be no great loss. I do not command men in battle like Athanaric, and I do not wield an axe or a sword with the skill of Arnulf and the other thains. And as for my spells,” he shrugged, “I am no match for the Guardian, and if I am killed, she could train a new apprentice easily enough.”

  Silence hung over the Tervingi for a long moment.

  “Witchers are feared among our people,” said Athanaric at last, “even the Guardian. But I say to you, Riothamus son of Rigotharic, that you are as valiant as any thain.”

  Riothamus made a bow in Athanaric’s direction. “You are gracious.”

  “Riothamus,” said Aegidia. “Do not speak of yourself so lightly. Your death would be a grievous blow to the Tervingi nation.” She leaned against her staff. “And to me.”

  “Thank you,” said Riothamus.

  “But if you are resolved on this,” said Athanaric, “I will not turn you away. Someone must speak to the knights.” He snorted. “And the gods know you are more eloquent than I am.”

  “I am resolved,” said Riothamus.

  “Then go,” said Athanaric, “and the hopes of the Tervingi go with you.”

  ###

  An hour later Riothamus walked across the grasslands, his spear held overhead. A white banner fluttered from the shaft, rippling in the wind. He only hoped the knights of the Grim Marches would recognize it as a sign for parley, and not feather him with arrows.

  Thousands of men stood outside the ruined village, watching him.

  “I come in peace!” shouted Riothamus, a spell amplifying his voice. “I am an emissary of Athanaric son of Athaulf, a hrould of the Tervingi nation. I wish to discuss terms with your captains and chieftains. Let an ambassador or an emissary come forth to treat with me.”

  He repeated the message in Dark Elderborn once more, and then switched to the tongue of the Jutai. The Jutai language was similar to that of the knights, no doubt because the Jutai had lived close to the Great Mountains.

  Riothamus saw no hint of movement among the enemy host. Banners floated over their heads – dead men hanging from a stone tower, a crimson dragon on a black field, three crossed swords, a tower atop a mountain, and dozens of other sigils.

  He began his greeting again.

  A flicker of darkness among the waiting men caught his eye.

  Then a pillar of shadow swirled before him, and the woman was there.

  She was four or five years younger than Riothamus, and wore dark leather armor, a sword and a dagger sheathed at her belt. Her brown hair had been pulled back into a sweaty tail, and her hard gray eyes watched Riothamus like a hawk regarding a mouse. She was short and slender, yet Riothamus saw that she had the balance of a hunter.

  Of a predator.

  The thains had spoken of a deadly woman who could walk through the shadows, killing with every step. Riothamus tensed, preparing for her attack, but the woman simply stared at him. If she had wanted to kill him, she could have appeared behind him and buried her blades into his back before he even noticed her.

  “So you must be the Tervingi wizard who caused so much trouble,” she said in Dark Elderborn.

  Riothamus blinked. “You know our tongue?”

  “I know many tongues,” said the woman. “Flatter yourself not – yours just happens to be one of them. But answer the question. Are you the wizard? The lords of the Grim Marches will want to know, ere they admit you to their camp.”

  “No,” said Riothamus. “I am her apprentice, and nothing more.”

  “Ah.” A cruel grin flashed over her lean face. “Disposable, then. Who are you?”

  “I am Riothamus son of Rigotharic,” said Riothamus, “and the hrould Athanaric has sent me to treat with you.”

  “So the Tervingi see wisdom,” said the woman.

  “If you seek to annihilate the Tervingi,” said Riothamus, “then we will fight. If you seek to enslave us, then we will fight. But if you will live in peace with us…then we are willing to do the same.”

  The woman snorted. “Bold words, now that you’ve lost the battle. But some of our lords see matters in the same light. Perhaps you can persuade them.”

  “Who are you?” said Riothamus. “If I can ask?”

  “You can,” said the woman. “I am Molly of the House of Cravenlock.” She paused for a moment. “Daughter of Lord Mazael of Castle Cravenlock.” She looked at the lines. “We should go. Lord Richard and the other nobles will want to speak with you.

  “Wait,” said Riothamus. Aegidia would want to know. “One question, if I may.”

  Molly shrugged. “Ask.”

  “We saw a mighty warrior in golden armor leading your horsemen,” said Rio
thamus. “Who was he? There are…stories…of such a man among my people.”

  Molly laughed. “I doubt that. He’s had that damned armor for less than a year, ever since he killed the dragon.”

  Riothamus blinked. “You mean…the golden armor is made from dragon’s scales?” Only a few Tervingi had ever managed to slay a dragon, and the loresingers sang of their names to this day. Little wonder such a potent warrior held the fate of the Tervingi in his hands.

  “Aye,” said Molly. “He killed the thing, so he gets to wear its scales as armor.”

  “The man in the golden armor,” said Riothamus, “what is his name?”

  “Lord Mazael Cravenlock,” said Molly, “my father. Though it’s not him you’ll treat with. Lord Richard Mandragon, the liege lord of the Grim Marches, wants to see you.”

  Riothamus nodded. Mazael Cravenlock. That was the name of the golden-armored man the Sight had revealed to Aegidia, the man who held the fate of the Tervingi in his hands.

  “Come,” said Molly.

  Riothamus pushed all thoughts of Aegidia’s visions from his mind. Mazael Cravenlock might hold the fate of the Tervingi in his hands one day, but right now it rested with Riothamus. If he did not convince Lord Richard Mandragon to allow the Tervingi to dwell in peace…

  No. He could not think on that.

  “Lead the way,” said Riothamus, with a confidence he did not feel.

  Molly nodded, and he followed her into the lines of the enemy.

  Chapter 17 – The Lady of Castle Highgate

  Lucan and Malaric’s mercenaries rode hard to the northeast.

  The lands were mostly deserted. The Malrags had destroyed most of the villages near the foothills of the Great Mountains, and the barbarian invaders had so far remained in the south. From time to time they passed a fortified hilltop village squatting behind a thick stone wall. Suspicious-eyed militiamen watched them from the ramparts, crossbows and short bows in hand, but did not trouble them.

  Not surprising. Fools would not have survived the Malrag invasion.