‘I have been away too long,’ he said. ‘And besides, the Queen will be eager to meet you.’
‘Me?’ exclaimed Falco.
‘The son of Aquila Danté?’ said the emissary. ‘Oh, yes.’
Falco still found the idea of becoming a battle mage ridiculous and more than a little unsettling. People had already suffered for the flaws in his father’s character. He had no wish to test the limits of his own. He turned to Fossetta and Malaki for support but neither of them seemed in the least bit surprised.
‘You’ve your father’s fire and your mother’s good grace,’ said Fossetta.
‘But I can barely lift a sword, never mind swing one in battle.’
‘Aye, but you know what to do,’ insisted Malaki. ‘You were just as good as me when we were boys.’
‘But that was years ago,’ said Falco, remembering how he had been forced to stop practicing as his health deteriorated.
‘It never goes away,’ said Malaki sagely. ‘You just need building up a bit. A few months in a blacksmith’s forge, that’s what you need.’
The emissary’s expression was thoughtful but he smiled at Falco’s exasperation and raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘They know best’.
They talked for a while until the emissary rose to his feet.
‘I will send word of our departure to the Queen,’ he said and with a bow he left them.
Falco had felt a flutter of anxiety. He had been excited about the prospect of seeing Wrath, but now that it came down to it he found himself reluctant to leave, especially as Fossetta had decided to remain in Toulwar to look after Tobias. The crippled boy had agreed to the emissary’s unusual suggestion. Using his special ‘gift’ Tobias would travel the land looking for other youngsters like Falco who possessed the hidden fire of a battle mage.
‘Tobias needs me,’ Fossetta explained later that evening as they sat beside the fire in Falco’s room. ‘It’s time for you to find your own path and you can’t do that with me clucking around your heels.’
Neither of them tried to hide their tears as they hugged each other close.
‘If you ever need me...’ said Falco.
‘I know, my love. I know.’
Now they gathered on the outskirts of Toulwar to say their goodbyes. The families and friends of the cadets were there, along with a small crowd of people from the city. Like Fossetta, Heçamede had also decided to stay in Toulwar. The people of Caer Dour needed their healer more than ever.
‘Live long and true,’ said the healer, quoting an old Thraecian proverb.
‘Thanks to you,’ said Falco, embracing her warmly and thinking of all the times she had saved his life.
And there was Tobias, sitting in his chair with Fossetta standing behind him.
‘Goodbye, Tobias,’ said Falco, crouching down to take his hand. ‘Take care of Fossetta now, won’t you?’
Tobias’s head wobbled on his thin neck as he looked at Falco.
‘Guh’bye, Ballymudge. Mek sure you hummon a big hragon.’
Falco gave a wry laugh.
‘And good luck in finding more ballymudges. I hope they’re not all as weedy as me!’
Tobias laughed as if this were quite the funniest joke. Finally he came to Fossetta but they had said their true goodbye in the privacy of Falco’s room and so they parted with a hug and a kiss as if Falco was off on a camping trip with Malaki.
‘Take care of each other,’ Fossetta told them. ‘And remember, when you meet the Queen it’s, Your Majesty, in the first instance and then ma’am after that.’
The two youths nodded and with more than one backward glance they led their horses to join the emissary and the other cadets waiting on the road.
‘I wish they weren’t coming with us,’ said Malaki, nodding towards the small group of magi who were also waiting beside the road. Among them were Morgan Saker and his son Meredith. They too would be travelling with the emissary to the capital.
Finally the emissary invited them to mount and they waved to the people that had come to see them off. Falco kept looking back until a bend in the road meant that he could no longer see Fossetta. It was a strange feeling to be riding away from everything he had known and he was glad to have his friend beside him. He glanced across but Malaki was laughing quietly with Bryna.
‘Just as it should be,’ thought Falco with a smile.
And so they had set off through the forested land of Clemoncé, threading their way through woods of oak, beech, chestnut and pine. At times they passed through villages and towns and even here the peoples’ sleep was troubled by nightmares and a growing sense of fear.
‘The enemy is getting closer,’ said the emissary. ‘It was the same in Illicia when I was a boy.’
The grim expression in his eyes offered them little in the way of comfort but there was nothing for them to do but journey on. By day they maintained a steady pace while at night they camped beside rivers, lakes or clear forest pools.
The cadets tended to keep to themselves with the magi making their own camp close by. For the most part the conversation was of small things but as the journey progressed they began to reflect on what they had been through and so their thoughts turned to the Possessed. It was nightfall on the ninth day of the journey when someone asked the question...
Just where did the Possessed come from?
‘Do they not teach history in Valentia?’ asked the emissary, sipping a cup of spiced wine as they sat on logs beside the fire.
‘I think we’d like to hear it from you,’ said Malaki and the other cadets nodded in agreement.
The emissary paused and steam obscured his face as he took another sip of his wine.
‘All we know is that they first appeared in Ferocia.’
The sun had set and veils of grey mist began to gather in the darkening gloom. The cadets were gathered close around the fire with the magi sitting in a separate group a short distance away but even they seemed to be listening as the emissary gathered his thoughts.
‘The nations of Wrath have always warred amongst themselves,’ he began. ‘But only Ferocia seemed to enjoy the slaughter.’
The emissary sighed, his gaze focussed inward as he remembered hearing the story from his father.
‘Time and again their armies would cross the Scythian Mountains, sweeping down into Beltane and Illicia. And do not think the more distant kingdoms were safe. Ferocia boasted a huge navy and their warships raided the coasts of Valentia, Thraece, Acheron and even Clemoncé. Nowhere was safe and everywhere people feared the sight of the black wolf on the red Ferocian flag.’
‘But we fought back,’ said Bryna who was sitting beside Malaki.
‘Yes we did,’ said the emissary. ‘For the first time the kingdoms of Wrath put aside their differences and fought together. They drove the Ferocians back over the Mountains and pursued them to the capital city of Iad itself. But then something happened.’
He paused.
‘Some say the Ferocian magi called upon the forces of the underworld; others that their King made a pact with the lord of darkness. All we know is that the free armies of Wrath were suddenly overcome by fear. But what did it matter. They thought they had defeated the enemy, but they were wrong. All they’d done was drive the Ferocians to the edge of desperation and somehow this opened the gates of hell.’
Beyond the firelight the very air itself appeared black.
‘It did not happen all at once and for many years people thought that Ferocia had indeed been tamed. But then the nightmares began.’
Here Falco’s head became bowed. He knew the nightmares of which the emissary spoke.
‘It was only certain children who were afflicted,’ said the emissary. ‘Most were driven mad, killing themselves or clawing out their own eyes, anything to escape the terror.’
No one said a word. Their experiences in the battle had given them some insight into what these children might have suffered.
‘The nightmares were a warning, a portent of what was to come, but it was
n’t until eight years later that a new army crossed the mountains of Scythia. It wasn’t as large as previous forces but somehow the Ferocian warriors had been changed. They felt neither pain nor fear and it seemed as if their minds had been taken over by some dark, malicious force. People began to refer to them as ‘The Possessed’.
‘Survivors spoke of the dead coming back to life, of terrible demons fighting alongside them but however outlandish the reports, one thing was clear. This new Ferocian army could not be stopped. Armies sent to destroy it found themselves overwhelmed by fear, and those that did not flee were cut down or taken by the enemy, and so their numbers grew.’
‘But we did stop them,’ insisted Malaki.
‘Yes. Eventually,’ said the emissary. ‘It was in Beltane, that a young man led an army against the Possessed, and won.
‘His name was Telamon Feyn, the first battle mage. He was one of the few children who survived the nightmares, now grown to a strong and quiet man. The stories tell of a glowing sword and fire shooting from his hands but it was the courage...’
‘Why are they always men?’ interrupted Bryna with more than a touch of annoyance.
Falco and Malaki exchanged an awkward glance but the emissary gave a wry smile.
‘In fact, they are not,’ he said. ‘The queen has a female battle mage in her service, as does Prince Ernest of Illicia. But you are right, battle mages, for the most part, are men.’
He looked at her, noting the way her face lifted at this news, but realising he had not really answered her question.
‘The truth is we don’t know, but we believe it is down to the response of the children. When faced with trauma girls tend to look inward, while boys are prone to aggression. Neither response will save the afflicted. Only boys who are able to master their aggression and a rare few girls survive the nightmares. And not all of them go on to become battle mages.’
‘But many did,’ said Malaki, and Falco smiled at his enthusiasm. He had always loved tales of old wars and glorious battles, they both had.
‘Well, not many, perhaps,’ said the emissary. ‘But a few at least. The magi began to train them, honing their powers and helping them to realise their potential. For a while they were able to hold back the Possessed but the number and power of the demons only increased. It wasn’t until Telamon took to wandering in the mountains that we learned where our salvation would come from.’
Now it was Falco’s turn to look interested.
‘The magi criticised him for turning away from the battlefield but Telamon insisted that they needed help. He went up into the mountains and remained there for days without food or sleep. He knew that people were dying but still he waited for something.’
The emissary paused.
‘They say that a summoning is like the sounding of a great bell, a tolling of the spirit, loud enough to cross the Endless Sea.’
He thumped his fist against the log on which he sat, three times, just as he remembered his father doing on the dining table in the Great Hall of Eltz.
‘A silent call sent out into the void. And it was answered.’
‘The dragons,’ breathed Malaki and the emissary nodded.
‘No one knows where they come from, or why, but somehow they hear the call of a battle mage and come to fight alongside us. At first it was just Telamon. But then others followed his lead and a summoning became the final part of a battle mage’s training. In those days all summonings were successful.’
‘Were any black?’ asked Falco quietly.
The emissary shook his head.
‘We don’t know. The colour of the dragons is rarely mentioned in the records. But whatever the colour, it was enough. The tide was turned. With a battle mage and a dragon the soldiers of Wrath were able to defeat the demon armies of the Possessed.’
He paused and they were silent for they all knew what was coming next. It was the greatest tragedy ever to befall the world, the last desperate act of an enemy on the brink of annihilation, a terrible event known as The Great Possession.
The emissary drained his cup and shook out the dregs before he went on.
‘The Possessed were defeated and the battle mages were the champions of humankind. They took it upon themselves to watch over the land and hunt down the last remnants of the enemy.’
He paused.
‘Peace reigned. The years went by and the vigilance of the battle mages seemed unnecessary but still they insisted on keeping the armies of Wrath in a state of readiness. Such readiness is costly, however, and the kings of Wrath began to protest. The magi too were unhappy with the power afforded to the ‘great souls’. As far as they were concerned they were no longer needed but the battle mages insisted that they needed to remain on their guard. Tensions grew until the leader of the magi began to speak of an impending disaster.’
The emissary stared into the fire.
‘His name was Syballian, The Prophet, Grand Veneratu of the magi. He surprised everyone by siding with the battle mages, saying that they were right; the enemy was not gone and was simply waiting for one last act of vengeance.
‘Once again the people were gripped by fear, wondering what this last evil gesture might be. Then came the night of Syballian’s vision. He sensed a convergence of evil in a place called the Cazan or Cauldron, a high valley in the mountains not far from the remote mage tower of Ossanda. The Enemy was opening a new rift into the world, said Syballian, and must be stopped.’
Everyone was captivated now, imagining this last chance to stop the evil of Possession for good.
‘At this time there were nineteen dragon mounted battle mages in Wrath and, as one, they flew to the Cauldron determined to destroy whatever horrors might be waiting for them. Nineteen dragon mounted battle mages, plus a host of magi from Ossanda. Surely nothing could stand against such a force.
‘But they were all mistaken. It was not the legions of hell or a host of demons that awaited them but the power of Possession itself. Only this time it would not be humans overcome by evil. This time the force of Possession would claim the dragons.’
Falco felt a shadow of horror pass over his mind. He remembered the fury of the dragon in the Castle of the Winds. Could it be that black dragons were still susceptible to Possession?
He breathed a sigh as the emissary continued.
‘Reports from the magi speak of dragons going mad and attacking their battle mages before they had the chance to react. In the end it was hopeless. Even with the help of the mages the dragons were too powerful. By the time they were slain they had killed every single battle mage plus half of the mages who had been there to help them. It was a catastrophe but at least it was the end. The corrupting power of Possession was gone from the world.’
The night was dark and deathly quiet. Even the wind had grown silent in the trees.
‘That was four hundred years ago,’ concluded the emissary, his tone wistful and disbelieving.
‘And now the Possessed are back,’ said a voice out of the darkness.
Everyone looked up to see Meredith Saker standing at the edge of the firelight.
‘Yes,’ said the emissary, watching Meredith as though he expected him to say something more.
Falco could see the uncertainty in Meredith’s eyes. They had all known something of the emissary’s tale, how the last gasp of the Enemy had robbed them of the battle mages, and how many people blamed the magi for not realising that dragons were open to Possession. Even now, some four hundred years later, some people still blamed the magi. But what did it matter? The Enemy had been vanquished. People had gone back to their ordinary lives and the balance of power between the magi and the kings of Wrath had returned to its uneasy state.
For several seconds Meredith held the emissary’s gaze but then he lowered his eyes and glanced in the direction of his father and the other magi. Then, without another word, he turned away and disappeared into the night.
‘What was all that about?’ whispered Malaki.
Still sta
ring after Meredith, Falco just shook his head.
An awkward silence descended until the emissary rose to his feet.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘Time for sleep.’ He kicked back a few embers that had spilled from the fire. ‘If we make good time tomorrow we should reach the coast and from there it’s just two more days to Wrath and your meeting with the Queen.’
The young cadets glanced at each other nervously but the emissary gave them a reassuring smile and slowly they began to prepare the camp for the night.
Falco helped to clear the supper things away then, while Malaki went to check on the horses, he laid out their bedrolls with Bryna. The sky was clearing and Falco caught the flicker of stars between the clouds. He was just turning back to the task in hand when his attention was drawn to the magi, now gathered around a small fire of their own. Swathed in their dark robes they cast a forbidding shape in the darkness and Falco felt a shiver of unease run down his spine. He had always been wary of the magi’s power but there had been something in Meredith’s bearing that spoke of doubt and Falco found this strangely unsettling.
‘What’re you staring at, dreamer?’
Falco jumped as Malaki returned from the horses.
‘Nothing,’ he said but Malaki followed the line of his gaze.
‘Do you think they knew about the dragons?’ said Falco, nodding in the direction of the magi.
‘Who knows?’ said Malaki. ‘I’m more worried about meeting the Queen! I’m bound to do something I shouldn’t.’
Falco nodded distractedly while Malaki settled down onto his bedroll. He made some comment to Bryna and got a punch in the ear for his trouble. Still laughing, he bade them all goodnight. He pulled his blankets up over his broad shoulders and then, just like his father, he fell instantly asleep. Bryna glanced at Falco and they shared a moment of amusement before they too settled down.
Falco listened as the camp grew slowly quiet but sleep continued to elude him as he reflected on the emissary’s tale.
Had the magi known that dragons were at risk?
Could they have warned people?
Could they have prevented the Great Possession?
The question kept on repeating itself and he thought he would never drop off. But then another thought began to spread across his mind. Tomorrow they would reach the coast and for the first time in his life he would see the sea, the Endless Sea beyond which the dragons were said to live.
Battle Mage Page 22
