The Wizard's Coming
A short story by Juliet E. McKenna, from the world of The Hadrumal Crisis
'The Wizard's Coming' © Juliet E. McKenna 2007, 2011
First published 2007, The Solaris Book of New Fantasy. This edition published 2011 by Solaris, an imprint of Rebellion Publishing Ltd., Riverside House, Osney Mead, Oxford, OX2 0ES, UK
www.solarisbooks.com
ISBN(mobi): 978-1-84997-257-4
ISBN(epub): 978-1-84997-258-1
Cover illustration: Clint Langley
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.
A Note from the Author
I've never yet met a writer who's short of ideas. The trick is identifying the ones which will make a novel and those better suited to a shorter piece of fiction. I tuck those away for the occasions when I'm invited to submit a story to an anthology or magazine.
When The Solaris Book of New Fantasy was proposed, I saw my chance to create a bad wizard. A really bad wizard; vicious, corrupt, treacherous. The Tales of Einarinn and The Aldabreshin Compass have featured vain, arrogant, amoral and self-important wizards as well as idealistic, honourable and pragmatic ones but I'd only made passing reference to long-past magical scandals and the Archmage's responsibility for keeping wizards in check.
The thing about passing references is they stick around. In idle moments, I found myself wondering... It's all very well having an official Edict saying that wizards don't get involved in warfare but some time someone will challenge it. Not openly and risk the wrath of the Archmage but sooner or later, it's going to happen. It's human nature. So what opportunities could a renegade mage exploit and how would the Archmage go about catching and punishing the rogue without creating a scandal? This story is the result.
Only, as I've found before with short fiction, it didn't stop there. As I was planning The Chronicles of the Lescari Revolution, I needed something to raise the stakes. What better than the threat of illicit magic used on the battlefield? Who was more likely to decide that wizardly edicts didn't apply to them than one of those selfish, self-absorbed dukes? Since I'd already explored what manner of mage would be willing to forswear his allegiance to the Archmage, why not use Minelas again? Not least to satisfy those who'd read The Wizard's Coming and wanted to know what happened next...
Only, while the Lescari Revolution trilogy dealt with Minelas himself, there were still unanswered questions. What had become of all those other characters whose lives he'd ripped apart in The Wizard's Coming? Let's not forget that these people now know that whatever the Archmage's edicts say, there are wizards willing to sell their skills to the highest bidder. That bell cannot be unrung and they have no particular reason to keep that secret. Indeed, they have every reason to seek recompense or even revenge.
Each series of books which I've written has always started with the question 'what if...?' So now I found myself wondering about the longer-term consequences of Minelas's actions in Caladhria and in Lescar. What if the Archmage is openly challenged and not just by a renegade mage in a way that can be hushed up? What if this scandal threatens wizardry's reputation right across the mainland? What will Planir's rivals for influence among the mageborn do then? What about those adept in Aetheric magic? What if Planir, usually so deft at evasion and negotiation, is backed into a corner? What if the true, devastating potential of elemental magic is revealed for all to see?
No wonder this new trilogy is called The Hadrumal Crisis.
Only, I didn't want to start Dangerous Waters by going back to recap this short story. I want to investigate all these new and intriguing ideas and see where the unforeseen consequences lead.
On the other hand, I know that not everyone who's read my novels has read The Solaris Book of New Fantasy. I don't like to think of those fans missing out, particularly since one of the great plusses of writing an extended series of books in the same world is taking advantage of these opportunities to bring back characters and revisit their lives. I know readers enjoy this as much as I do.
Happily modern technology offers the ebook solution and in this instance, I've decided to make the story available for free. As a taster for those who are curious about my writing but who wonder if they really can step into this world without having read all my earlier books. Hopefully they'll discover they can. It's also an opportunity for me to say thank you to all those established readers who've supported my writing for a decade and more. Have this story on me.
-Juliet E. McKenna
The Wizard's Coming
On the cusp between winter and spring, snowdrops shivered beneath thorn bushes swelling with buds in a sheltered nook at the heart of the copse, though the wind slicing through the bare and twisted oak trees was bitterly cold. Grey clouds above threatened the rain that still turned too easily to sleet or snow.
'Another frost-killed bird.' A young man with tousled brown hair gloomily nudged the pathetic corpse with a booted toe. 'Why don't they just fly away?'
'You're supposed to be looking for firewood.' As his older, balding companion kicked at a heap of sodden leaves and bent to retrieve a blackened, rotten branch, a sharp whistle raised both their heads.
'Find some god-cursed fuel before that fire dies!' As the man out on the exposed headland shouted angrily at the two of them, everyone else scattered along the cliff-top grassland halted. Three men were walking horses around, in charge of two or three apiece, each beast saddled and bridled. The foremost, lithe and wiry, hauled on the reins wound around each hand and broke into a run, forcing the reluctant animals to trot beside him.
'Come on.' The second man groaned as he gathered up their meagre haul of sticks and thorny twigs.
'Elkan, Serde and Treche have got the horses to warm them,' the first man complained.
'Stop your moaning,' his companion said wearily.
Both shivered as they left the inadequate shelter of the trees. The man out on the headland huddled into his rough grey cloak and scowled at them as they headed for a shallow hollow in the slope running up to the cliff edge. Two tents were angled to shelter the fire pit from the ceaseless wind.
A man seated cross-legged on the turf was skinning a brace of winter-starved rabbits. 'Maewelin's tits,' he muttered. 'My hands are so cold I can't tell if I'm cutting coney or my fingers.'
'There'll be more meat on your fingers.' The younger man who'd found the dead bird dumped his burden.
'This is all we gleaned, captain,' his bald companion apologised.
'Then bind the faggots tighter so they burn hotter,' a tall man ordered curtly. His close-cropped hair as steely as his eyes, his gaze didn't shift from the man isolated out on the headland who was staring out to sea once again. The cold grey waters ran away to the horizon to merge with billows of leaden cloud.
Where the rest wore rough woollens beneath scuffed buff leather and coarse cloaks that could double as blankets, the captain boasted a linen shirt beneath his padded green tunic, scarlet embroidery vivid as blood around the high collar. His cloak was woven from sturdy green wool and lined with brown.
'What about that thicket beyond the track, captain?' The older of the wood-gatherers twisted strips of bark to secure the sticks into a bundle. 'I could take an axe to an ash tree.'
'Perhaps at dusk. When we know he's not coming today.' The captain withdrew his gaze to glower at the youth standing idle. 'Hosh, if you're not helping Avayan, relieve
Narich.'
'It ain't my turn,' Hosh protested. 'Bair's next.'
The stolid, square-faced man continued butchering the rabbits. 'Do you want to eat or not?'
'Relieve Narich, Hosh,' the captain ordered sternly.
The youth opened his mouth, shut it and began walking. If he was muttering under his breath, the words were lost as hooves pounded the turf and harness rattled. The men exercising the horses hurried towards the tents, the restive beasts' whinnying initially drowning out the first man's words.
'Unlil whistled us, Captain,' he repeated, soothing the dappled grey with a stroke on her soft, mottled nose.
'What's he seen?' the captain wondered.
'Not the wizard.' Elkan rapidly gathered all the reins thrust towards him by the two others who'd been exercising the horses.
The wind tugged at the captain's mossy cloak as he watched his man breaking cover from the thicket that offered a sentry a clearer view both ways along the track cutting through these coastal pastures. 'He can tell us himself.'
Every man drew his sword, even Bair with his hands still gory. Up on the headland, Narich did the same. Caught half way between the tents and the cliff, Hosh dithered, looking this way and that.
'Horsemen, Captain.' Bair stood beside him, half a head shorter but considerably broader in the shoulder. He pointed with his sword.
A trio of riders appeared as the track rounded an undulation in the cliff-edge pastures. The first horseman lifted a fist in salute. Up on the headland, Narich raised a spyglass, swiftly lowering it to wave his own clenched fist in reply. He began running down the slope, pausing only briefly to berate the hapless Hosh and order him up to the exposed headland.
'It's Corrain,' the captain said tersely,
'With Dancal and Ostin,' Bair breathed, relieved. 'All safe.'
Neither he nor any of the rest moved to sheathe their swords until the three riders arrived. Unlil, the sentry, arrived scant moments ahead of the horsemen.
'Gefren--' The foremost rider recollected himself as he halted his mount. He wore finer linen than the others beneath his uniform of grey wool and buff leather. 'Captain.'
Gefren waved away Corrain's familiarity. 'Report.'
'Nothing.' Corrain glanced at the two riders flanking him for their nods of confirmation. 'Not even a peasant grubbing up acorns to feed his pigs.'
'Captain!' Hosh's shriek startled everyone. Up on the cliff edge, he was hopping from foot to foot, pointing out towards the distant horizon. 'The wizard! The wizard's coming!'
Corrain hauled on his reins to turn his horse towards the sea before Gefren could give any order. 'Narich, let me see!' Kicking his mount into a canter, he barely slowed to snatch the spyglass from the man's raised hand. He stood in his stirrups to search the rolling grey sea, pulling the horse up just short of the precipitous drop.
Narich hurried to the tents. 'We're packing up, captain?'
Unlil the sentry and the bald man Avayan were already hauling packs and blankets out onto the damp grass. The curious wind tugged at flapping canvas.
'Don't bother striking camp.' Gefren watched Corrain intently. 'Get ready to ride.'
'Hosh, get down here,' Narich bellowed.
'It's them,' Corrain shouted, cantering down from the headland. 'It must be,' he said with quieter desperation as he reached them. 'Saedrin save us, it must be.'
'Are they flying the flag?' demanded Gefren, still stony-faced.
Corrain nodded and gestured towards darker grey skeins of cloud promising an approaching storm. 'They must have a mage aboard, to be countering those squalls.'
'Get your gear together, Hosh.' Unlil kicked clods of turf into the fire pit as the youth arrived, puffing hard.
The youth stared at Bair instead, accusing. 'You're taking all the meat to fill your own belly?'
'I snared it.' Bair swathed the skinned rabbits in a linen rag and scrubbed blood off his hands onto the turf.
'You know what we must do.' Gefren looked around his men. Dancal and Ostin, the scouts who'd arrived with Corrain, were already on the verge of departing while Hosh was still struggling to roll up his blankets. Gefren's gaunt face grew still grimmer. 'You already know that we've been betrayed. May all the gods watch over you. I pray we'll meet at Lord Halferan's gate.'
'Or we'll see each other before Saedrin's door to the Otherworld,' Hosh muttered bleakly.
'Forewarned is forearmed--' Corrain rebuked him.
Gefren spoke over him. 'Our lives will be well spent if we save our lord and our families with our deaths.' He accepted the reins of his own horse from Elkan and mounted swiftly. 'Corrain, you can wait and take Hosh with you. Bair, go with Serde instead.'
Without a glance for those left behind, the captain kicked the restive bay gelding into a gallop for the track. Avayan, Narich and Elkan followed close behind. Reaching the pale scar in the grassland, all four men turned their horses to the south.
'We're away.' Dancal clicked his tongue and his dun horse obediently pricked up its ears. Ostin rode away beside him, stirrup to stirrup. When they reached the track, they lashed their beasts into a headlong gallop for the north. Bair and Serde followed swiftly, Treche and Unlil scant moments behind them, all heading northward.
That left Corrain, still up on his horse, thin-lipped and tight-faced as he waited for Hosh to finally secure his pack to his saddle.
'You've no call to scowl at me.' The youth looked up, sullen. 'None of my doing brought you back down the ladder to ride as a common trooper.'
'Believe me, I've learned my lesson,' Corrain said with a humourless smile. 'The next time I get drunk and seduce my lord's steward's wife, I'll make sure the old cuckold is out of town.'
* * *
The track curved inland to join a lane long hollowed out by the remorseless tread of sheep and cattle. Dancal and Ostin's horses' hooves echoed noisily between the thorny banks. The storm from the sea pursued them, finally breaking over their heads as they left the lane for a wider road cutting between freshly hedged fields. The road was deeply rutted with wagon tracks and edged with intermittent coppices venturing their first pale spring leaves. There was no one to be seen in either woodland or pasture.
The riders didn't pause as cold rain hammered down on their heads. They only slowed leagues later when their horses threatened to stumble from weariness, as ruts dissolved into muddy puddles beneath their hooves.
'We get fresh horses at the next coaching inn.' The grey wool of Dancal's cloak, his leather jerkin and the padded tunic beneath were all sodden. 'Hire them or steal them, whatever it takes.'
'We want two each.' Ostin swiped at trickles of rain running down from the knitted cap pulled low to tame his black curls. 'So we've remounts to hand.'
As Dancal considered this, his horse took the opportunity to slow and halt. 'No.' He shook his head decisively, urging the unwilling horse onwards with his boot heels. 'A horse on a lead rein will slow us, and they won't be fresh when we need new beasts.'
'What if we're ten leagues from nowhere when the new horses founder?' Ostin protested.
'I said no.' Dancal slapped at his horse's neck, dark mane clinging in ratty tails. He pointed to a crossroads marked by a gibbet and a fingerpost. 'Look, there's the high road. Let's be the first to win Lord Halferan's gratitude.'
He used his short blunt spurs to force a reluctant canter from his horse. Ostin slapped a token loop of rein across his own mount's shoulders. The beast strove to catch its stable mate but a substantial gap stretched between them as Dancal reached the high road.
Ostin was wiping at rain trickling into his eyes again when Dancal's horse screamed. The curly-headed man gaped as muddy figures scrambled out of deep ditches cut to catch the rain running off the hardened road. His own horse halted, shivering and unnerved.
The first attacker seized Dancal's bridle, gripping either side of the foam-slimed bit. Dancal couldn't reach him with his sword without decapitating his horse.
'Behind you!' Ostin screeched a va
in warning as three more men assailed the bay's flanks. Greedy hands grabbed at Dancal, wrenching him from the saddle. He fell amid jostling bodies.
Ostin saw dull steel plain in their upraised fists. He hacked at his horse's muddied ribs with merciless heels, sobbing with fear and frustration. 'Shift you bastard--'
He coughed, his words cut short. He frowned at the bloodied head of a broad-bladed arrow protruding from his breast. As he tried to protest, only scarlet foam bubbled from his mouth. The reins slipped from his numbed hands as the weary horse shifted its footing. Ostin fell sideways, helpless. He landed with a splash on the puddled road, gasping a last futile breath.
* * *
Dusk was falling when Bair and Serde reached an inn. They'd taken a road that cut inland rather than following the coast. The rain was long enough past that their clothes were now merely damp instead of soaked but that still left them vulnerable to the deepening cold. As they rode into the yard, a stable door opened, spilling out a golden glow. Catching the scent of hay and companionship, Bair's horse lifted its head and quickened its pace. Serde's chestnut whickered cheerfully, misty breath glistening in the lamplight.
'We stay close together, and close-mouthed,' Serde said quietly as he dismounted. 'We eat what's offered, get warm at the fire and go to our bed.'
'If someone asks our business?' Bair raised a friendly hand as an ostler appeared in the entrance to the stable.
'We say it's none of theirs.' Serde slung his saddlebag over one shoulder.
'I'll get the boy.' The ostler hurried across the yard to disappear through the back door of the inn.
'We'll see to our own horses,' Serde called after him, irritated.
The only answer was the slam of the solid oak.
'Do you reckon they'll give us a meal in return for these rabbits for their pot?' As Bair slid down from his saddle, he prodded the bundle of linen blotched with darkened crimson. He chuckled. 'Do you reckon some scullery maid might spread her legs for them?'
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