“What does he want?” Salgo and Father Amus both asked at the same time. Even Kersal looked interested.
“Terleman? Get him!” the soldier insisted. “I worked with the man briefly in Gilmora. There are few warmagi who would be soldiers if it wasn’t for their sorcery, but Terleman is one of them. One of the better ones,” he added.
“He doesn’t want much - mostly a worthy purpose where he can practice his abilities. The commander is correct: he is perhaps one of the best warmagi of our age, and he has the favor and backing of the Spellmonger, as well as the confidence of the Arcane Orders,” she added.
“All right, all right, give him a job,” the teenaged duke grinned. “If he’s not too picky about how he gets paid . . .”
“Not at all,” Pentandra assured. “And in all candor, Your Grace, we need a coordinated response against the goblins. At the moment this garrison and the stipend we receive to support Tudry are the King’s only real contributions to the defense. No doubt he would raise a grand army to repel a threat to the Riverlands, again, but only after Alshar has fallen. No, if we are to survive, we must see to our own defense. Military and arcane. There are dangers to the realm that are only suspected by my order at the moment, gentlemen, but dangers that we are ill-prepared to defend against without sufficient preparation.”
“What dangers?” Sir Kersal asked, his smile fading. Pentandra took a deep breath. It was time to explain the entirety of the situation.
“An ancient evil loosed from its tomb in the Land of Scars, who has recently occupied an even more ancient Alka Alon stronghold of untold power. Oh, and he’s in league with Sheruel. Perhaps even in a management role,” she began.
“Gods save us!” Salgo said, his face looking pale. Father Amus made Huin’s holy sign of warding, wiping the sacred sweat from his brow.
“They have, at least once, already,” Pentandra admitted. “I cannot go into details, but I must report that there has been at least one attack of these undead on Vorone already. This spring. If you recall the . . . strange events of Ishi’s Night, I can personally attest that the goddess, herself, was involved in repelling the threat to the town.”
Father Amus looked startled. “There really was a visitation? I thought we just made that up!”
“Did you think that half the town spontaneously humping everything in sight was the result of really good maywine, Father?” chuckled Count Salgo, recalling the events of that strange night.
“Ishi protected us - that is all you need to know, for now. My lords, I feel it is time for me to make a full report, now that the crisis has - I pray! - passed. And, yes, Ishi herself plays a role in how it developed in the first place.”
That had the attention of all of them. You could not discuss the Goddess of Love and Beauty (and Sex) without inspiring the interests of most men. Even granting dispensation to Father Amus for his piety, he was likely intrigued from a professional standpoint.
At least, that’s what Pentandra tried to convinced herself. She took another deep breath.
“I cannot speak to her methods or mechanisms. I dislike the Arcane Orders speaking for a realm that rightly belongs to the clergy, but I know that much for a fact: Ishi intervened to preserve Vorone. The danger is real enough to attract the assistance of the very gods.”
“Well, that hardly bodes well,” Count Salgo said, frowning. Pentandra nodded grimly and continued her report.
“We need to prepare ourselves for the fact that Sheruel, as demonstrably terrifying as he is, is not the only evil confronting us anymore. This new threat is armed not only with forbidden Alka Alon sorcery, but apparently has a cadre of powerful undead Alka Alon renegades at their disposal . . . as well as a very alive faction of renegade Alka Alon, known to them as the Enshadowed. They are the fanatics largely responsible for the rise of the traitor warmagi known as Mask and the other human renegade warmagi.”
“I was wondering who was doing that,” Father Amus admitted. “Infiltration and base treason do not seem to be the goblins’ style.”
“It’s not, but the renegade Alka Alon are apparently far more devious, and willing to use our own weaknesses against us,” she agreed, thinking back to all she had learned in the crypt that fateful night. “Mask in particular was been sent to strike at us,” she continued. “She had some special enmity for the Spellmonger--”
“The lad does have a talent for pissing people off,” conceded Count Salgo.
“--but her plans seemed to have involved much more than simple domination of the Penumbra in service to Sheruel. I thought as much last year, when we encountered her on the field and defeated her, but now we know for certain.”
“New intelligence?” Salgo asked, surprised. Anguin, too, was paying rapt attention to her report.
“Even better: we took her prisoner,” Pentandra revealed. “Lady Mask and a group of Alka Alon conspired to rob Sevendor of some of its precious magical items, but she was tripped up and left behind by her comrades. Lady Mask was captured by the Spellmonger and imprisoned in Sevendor. Under his skillful interrogation she has given us some details as to our enemies’ plots.”
“That is fortunate,” Anguin said, eagerly. “I remember you telling me about her. Wicked woman!”
“But willing to talk,” Pentandra pointed out. “Of especial note in her briefing was detail confirming the alliance between the Enshadowed, the renegade warmagi, and this new player . . . Korbal, the Demon God of the Mindens.” She knew she sounded a bit dramatic when she said it, but she didn’t anticipate a giggle.
“Korbal!” chuckled Sir Kersal, amused. “They call him Korval, in Castal, I think, but is he the funny little figure with the enlarged--?”
“That is mere folklore, Sir Kersal,” assured Father Amus, gravely. “The being we contend with is quite real, it appears. We’ve heard rumors that some ancient evil had awakened from the Kasari. We were hoping it was a myth.”
“He is no myth,” Pentandra explained, “in human magical terms he is a powerful necromancer. Perhaps the most powerful necromancer there has ever been. I have seen but a tithe of his powers, in the encounter with one of his lieutenants, and they make the gurvani shamans look like footwizards.
“More, they have no compunctions about inhabiting a human host. And utilizing human weaknesses to achieve their ends.”
“Apart from being pure stinking evil, what are their ends, Lady Pentandra?” asked Angrial, politely. He looked deeply concerned about the very idea of Korbal being loose.
“We have come to understand that the gurvani and the undead have corrupted and infiltrated the criminal organization known locally as the Rat Crew, and more widely as the Brotherhood of the Rat.”
“The godsdamned Rats again?” swore Duke Anguin, shaking his head. They might not have actually been to blame for his mother’s death, but Anguin had a low tolerance for the gang. “Of course they would. Evil attracts evil. And that gave them some access to Vorone.”
“They’re moving quickly and consolidating power, and while we have all but driven the Crew from Vorone, they are ever eager to return. Worse, they have a wide network of spies, assassins, thugs, smugglers, pirates and thieves to call upon to aid them, from here to Enultramar.”
“So the rats and the undead - what common issue could possibly brought them together?” asked Amus. “And why? What could those thugs possibly have to offer?”
“It is clear from what the foe let slip in our struggle that Korbal’s strategy depends on subversion and sabotage, among other insidious acts, to gain control of humanity before they destroy it,” Pentandra supplied. “We are just beginning to uncover the extent of their infiltration, but from what we’ve seen so far it doesn’t bode well.”
“That would explain the ease with which Master Luthar managed to quit the dungeons under the palace on Ishi’s Night,” conceded Salgo. “We thought the guards were just . . . distracted, but if he had assistance from outside, I may have put some guards on report who didn’t deserve it.”
/> “Haven’t we been fighting the rats since Yule?” asked Anguin, confused. “I thought they were no longer a threat to the realm.”
“Unfortunately, while the local Rat Crew is no longer dominant in Vorone, the larger Brotherhood is strongest in Enultramar and the cities of southern Alshar, where neither the Arcane Orders nor the Duke has any power to speak of at the moment. That must change,” she said, insistently. “If we do not actually re-take the south, we must at least have a means of projecting power and influence there to counter such threats. Currently we have neither, and it will be to our detriment for that to continue.”
“Agreed - and I have heard of little else from the southern party, since the restoration began,” Father Amus said, tiredly. “Believe me, restoring his rule over Enultramar remains high on His Grace’s priorities. Yet without a spymaster or a navy . . .”
“We aren’t ready to mount an invasion, yet,” Salgo cautioned.
“Nor do we need to, yet,” Pentandra nodded. “In the meantime, we build up our military. Until we have one adequate for our needs, we will have to improvise. Bringing on the 3rd Command will help, but the restructuring of the northlands must continue, or there will be no restoration in the south. Making Terleman the center of the effort against both of our foes will be instrumental. No one is better suited to understanding all of the contingencies of the present conflict, save perhaps Minalan, himself. And Terleman is personally a powerful warmagi, on par with any in your service. He may well have been able to destroy the undead lurking in Vorone this spring by himself,” she boasted.”
“Also agreed,” Duke Anguin said. “But while I’m impressed with his powers, it brings up another nagging question, my lady: what was a powerful undead doing in my town in the middle of a fertility festival?”
“Observing, spying, hiding, and searching,” Pentandra reported. She omitted exactly what -- whom -- the fiend had been searching for; no need to add mud to the already turbulent waters of this report. “And of course helping Lord Luthar escape from the palace dungeons. As the local head of the Rat Crew, he has some value. Apparently the undead have plans to exploit that relationship. To our detriment.”
“How does one combat . . . undead?” Anguin asked, uncertainly.
“They die as the living do, if you hack at them long enough,” Salgo assured him. “That’s what worked in Farise.”
“Not these,” Pentandra said, shaking her head. “With all respect for your experience, Count, these are not mere animated corpses mindlessly fighting until they are taken down. These undead possess advanced intelligence, tremendous strength, and the ability to use magic like a warmage or a spellsinger. Dark magic,” she said, for emphasis, although the term had little technical merit. “They use the same power of death energy that Sheruel uses to maintain the Umbra . . . only they use it with far more precision and efficiency. That is a power that neither Alka Alon songspells nor Imperial magic is well-equipped to contend with,” she admitted.
“Can the Spellmonger not counter this threat?” asked Father Amus, confused.
“Minalan is . . . preoccupied at the moment,” Pentandra explained. “Two of our High Magi, Baron Dunselen and Baroness Isily of Greenflower, were complicit in conspiring with both Lady Mask and the Enshadowed faction. Once we had Mask’s confession, Minalan moved swiftly. He convened a unit of warmagi and stormed Castle Salaisus a few nights ago.”
“Dear gods!” Father Amus said, making another holy sign. “What was the outcome?”
“Victory,” conceded Pentandra, “but at a terrible price. Master Dunselen is dead. Lady Isily is . . . well, she is utterly witless.
“But then, so is the Spellmonger’s wife, Baroness Alya, who was included in the assault. By all accounts her mind is gone from the struggle. Though the Arcane Order has confiscated Dunselen’s estate and all of his papers, it may be years before Minalan can effect a cure.”
“Why not?” Duke Anguin asked, curious.
“The two of them were working on some very, very obscure aspects of magic. And with their help, Mask was not only able to invade Sevendor but also help the Enshadowed steal some of Minalan’s magical treasury. While Mask was caught, the Enshadowed were able to get away with a small trove of unique and powerful artifacts. No doubt they will be in the armories of our foes before long,” she added, with a sigh.
“That does not bode well,” agreed the young duke. “The Spellmonger attacked? Master Dunselen dead? Baroness Alya is injured? Renegade Alka Alon? And here I thought we were making progress,” he said, discouraged.
“We are making progress, Your Grace!” Pentandra insisted. “Compared to where we were at Yule, we have a functioning state, we are re-establishing infrastructure, and we are reorganizing the order of the Wilderlands from scratch to see to our sustained defense -- those are not small matters, Your Grace!”
“As important as armies and castles,” agreed Father Amus, nodding thoughtfully. “We have made progress, Your Grace. But we must know the full extent of the challenge we face if we are to continue to be successful. Lady Pentandra is merely advising you as to what that truly is. Your rule is not served by ignoring the realities we face.”
“I understand, Father,” Anguin said, apologetically. “I just feel discouraged, after all of the hard work we’ve done.”
“Governance is a voyage, not a harbor, your grandfather was fond of saying,” Father Amus pointed out. “Do not diminish what you have accomplished, Your Grace. But neither should you think that you are at all close to achieving your goals.”
“Take heart, Your Grace,” Pentandra offered. “We have gone more than half a year without any serious challenge from either your vassals or the kingdom. That is when few thought you had the courage or resources to make the attempt at all.”
“I know, I know,” grumbled Anguin. “It’s just depressing to consider yet another dire foe to challenge my rule. Especially one we are unsure of how to best.”
“That we will discover in time, Your Grace,” Salgo assured him. “Until then, we will strive to protect you and the duchy as best we can.”
“To that end I would like to propose stronger patrols around Vorone,” suggested Sir Kersal. “When my men approached we were not challenged until we were within half a mile of Vorone, and we came by road. Gurvani tend to travel overland. If we had regular cavalry patrols north and south and west of the city, we might be able to intercept some of these fellows before they can begin their mischief.”
“We have not had the trained manpower for that, to this point,” Count Salgo admitted. “Now that the 3rd Commando has arrived, it might be a good opportunity to familiarize your men with their new home.”
“Just what are the terms of the accord?” Pentandra asked. “Just curious.”
“Generous,” Sir Kersal admitted. “Each captain shall be given a domain as tenant lord, to convert to a titled lord after five years’ service, and two years abeyance of tribute and taxes. Each petty-captain and lieutenant officer gets an estate, a charger, a brace of oxen and six sheep. Each ancient, sergeant, and corporal receives a freeholding, twenty silver, and two cows. Almost all of the territory given to them is in the eastern portion of the Wilderlands, behind the pele towers, largely unsettled and fairly free of goblins at this point. The men understand,” he added, “that not all of these estates and holdings are . . . well-developed.”
“There’s more,” added Father Amus. “The Duke shall pay a bounty for all those archers who participated in the spring contest and weapontake who choose to join one of the new estates. Each Ancient in the 3rd shall be assigned as many bowman as we can divide to become yeomen and freemen on their new holdings. They will be responsible for training those men. And the 3rd will be working with both the town militia and the various barons to improve the quality of men on the field.”
“That should go a long way toward re-settling the north,” Salgo said, satisfied. “And Kersal’s men seem eager to take up the challenge.”
“Being h
ailed as bandits and worse for a year has made the appreciations they have heard in Vorone sound like hymns of praise,” the knight agreed. “It is too late for them to get a real crop in their new holdings before autumn, but they can at least take stock of their lands and prepare for next year.”
“We shall make the announcements and present the grants of deeds at court during the Feast of Greftor in a few weeks,” Father Amus told her.
That made a fair amount of sense, she reasoned. The minor god of artisans was popular among the smiths, jewelers, weavers and other craftsmen that were so important to the economy of Vorone that it was, apparently, one of the summer’s major festivals in town. “That is when Lady Pleasure has organized a recognition banquet for our illustrious Court Wizard and her fellows, anyway. What better way to usher in a new order in Alshar than by welcoming the 3rd Commando while honoring our magi at a feast of artisans?”
Court Wizard (Spellmonger Series: Book 8) Page 81
