Battle Mage

by Peter Flannery

  ‘They look after us pretty well.’

  Alex Klingemann appeared at Malaki’s side. ‘Good morning,’ he added with his customary smile. ‘Quirren and I thought we might show you round, after you’ve had some breakfast, of course.’

  Falco exchanged a look with Malaki and Bryna. Alex possessed a natural friendliness but it was also clear that he was hoping to learn more about the emissary and their encounter with the Possessed. However, the chance of having a helpful guide was not one to be missed.

  ‘We’d appreciate that,’ said Falco.

  In addition to the other smells of the barracks he now caught the distinct smell of freshly baked bread and frying bacon. His stomach growled and he realised just how hungry he was.

  While Bryna finished getting ready Falco dug out his cleanest clothes and followed Malaki to the baths. In the fading light of the previous evening he had not really appreciated the shape of the building. Now he could see that the sleeping quarters formed the west side of a large quadrangle built around an open courtyard of gritty sand containing numerous training aids and combat mannequins. The bath house was on the east side, while the kitchens and dining hall were to the north. Falco took it all in as they made their way across the courtyard.

  As they entered the bath house he was amazed to see a dozen tiled baths set into the floor just as they had been in some of the wealthier houses of Caer Dour.

  Malaki smiled at his friend’s expression.

  ‘We’ll meet you in the dining hall,’ he said, as Falco began to undress.

  ‘Just make sure you save me some bacon,’ said Falco with an indulgent groan as he lowered himself into the hot, steaming water.

  For all that it was warm and luxurious Falco did not linger in the bath. Jarek Snidesson had just entered the room with several of his followers and unlike the Klingemann brothers the glances they shot in his direction were far from friendly. Trying to appear unconcerned he dressed quickly and made his way through to the dining hall where Malaki and Bryna were waiting for him.

  Bryna shook her head as she watched him demolish a huge plate of bacon, eggs and fried tomatoes with several slices of fresh bread and a fat juicy pear. He washed it down with a large cup of water. Since waking up in Toulwar Falco’s appetite had increased so dramatically that he could now give Malaki a run for his money.

  ‘Told you he’d finish it,’ said Malaki and Bryna narrowed her eyes at his triumphant grin.

  As soon as Falco had finished eating they cleared away the things and returned to the sleeping quarters to meet Alex and Quirren before leaving the barracks through the main entrance in the south wall. The morning was cold but the clouds were lifting from the mountains and the sun was beginning to shine through.

  As it turned out, Alex proved to be an excellent guide. The two brothers had been in Wrath for several weeks, waiting for the last of the cadets to arrive. They also had an older cousin who had trained at the academy so their knowledge was fairly comprehensive.

  In his mind Falco had always pictured some kind of castle or university but it turned out that the Academy of War was not so much a building as a military camp currently bustling with thousands of soldiers from the Fourth Army as they prepared for their next campaign.

  ‘I thought the academy was just for cadets,’ said Falco as they passed a series of enormous stables.

  ‘Working with the main armies is part of our training,’ said Alex as if this were common knowledge. ‘Some of the cavalry manoeuvres can have as many as five hundred horses.’

  ‘What kind of formations use five hundred horses?’ asked Bryna.

  ‘Depends what discipline you choose. But we all have to train in the traverser manoeuvre.’

  The three newcomers looked at him blankly.

  ‘It’s a term they use here in Clemoncé,’ said Alex giving them a meaningful look. ‘It means ‘passing through’. We’ve never done it but it looks bloody terrifying.’

  Before they could enquire further they had to step aside as a line of mounted troops emerged from a complex of stables and rode up a short rise onto a higher level of the plateau. Each of the riders wore half plate armour and carried a lance, not the extravagant lances used for jousting, but a simple spear, ten feet long.

  ‘Knights from the Fourth Army,’ explained Alex. ‘Heading up to the tournament field for lance practice.’

  They climbed the short rise onto the upper level of the plateau which offered a much better view of their surroundings. There were numerous buildings: workshops, forges and food stores along with rows and rows of white canvas tents, most of which seemed to be occupied by soldiers from the Fourth. Beyond the buildings and tents were a number of training grounds, enclosed fields of grass or sandy shale.

  ‘That’s where we’ll do most of our training,’ said Alex, pointing to a central field covered with wooden posts and combat mannequins similar to those in the courtyard of the barracks. Even from a distance they could see the wooden posts were hacked and dented, shaped by many seasons of practice.

  ‘What’s that one?’ asked Falco, pointing to a further field where the ground began to rise towards the mountains. It too was dotted with posts but unlike the closer field, where the posts were made of wood, these uprights appeared to be made of some kind of black stone.

  ‘That’s the magi training field.’

  ‘Stone training posts?’ said Malaki.

  ‘Shards of fortissite,’ said Alex. ‘It’s the only thing that magical force can’t damage.’

  Falco stared at the small forest of octagonal pillars. The black stone reminded him of the dark rocks of Mont Noir and the Castle of the Winds.

  ‘Battle mages use them too,’ said Alex, glancing cautiously in Falco’s direction.

  They had not said as much but neither he nor Quirren actually believed that Falco was here to train as a battle mage.

  ‘Do they train with the cadets?’ said Malaki. ‘The battle mages I mean.’

  ‘I think so,’ said Alex. ‘But they also train in the crucible.’

  They looked at him blankly.

  ‘It’s an arena sunk into the ground like an amphitheatre,’ said Alex. ‘They say it stops any stray attacks from doing unwanted damage but I just think they like to train in secret.’

  ‘Can we see it?’ asked Malaki.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Alex with uncharacteristic gloom. ‘It’s a bit of a way.’

  ‘We’ve never been,’ said Quirren, smiling at his brother’s discomfort. ‘He’s frightened of the magi.’

  ‘I’m not frightened,’ said Alex. ‘They just make me nervous.’

  ‘It’s up there,’ said Quirren, pointing up the rocky slopes behind the academy.

  The others looked to where he was pointing, but then their eyes were drawn over to the right, to the dark tower of the Clemoncéan magi, which stood tall and imposing against the backdrop of the snow-capped mountains.

  ‘We can head up there later if you like.’

  Malaki and Bryna nodded but Falco could sympathise with Alex. He too felt nervous in the presence of the magi.

  ‘Come on,’ said Alex, drawing their attention away from the tower. ‘I’m sure Bryna would like to see the archery ranges.’

  They skirted the training area until they came to a series of fields furnished with all manner of targets. There were the normal round bosses made from straw but there were also narrow padded posts and targets made to look like warriors of the Possessed. A group of some fifty archers were doing some range practice, shooting at clouts, brightly coloured strips of cloth pegged to the ground at specific distances.

  ‘What range do they go up to?’ asked Bryna, casting a critical eye over the ranges.

  ‘Three hundred yards,’ said Quirren, who was standing beside her. ‘But only the heaviest bows can reach that far.’

  ‘They say a Beltonian longbowman can hit a man at three hundred yards,’ said Alex.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Bryna. ‘At that range they might jus
t be able to hit an army.’

  Alex looked a little crestfallen while Falco and Malaki just smiled. When it came to archery they knew better than to argue with Bryna.

  They continued to explore until they came back around to the tournament field where the men from the army were now well into their exercise. The knights had split into two groups and were taking it in turns to launch attacks against a thick straw target set on three poles.

  Alex led them over and they watched as the mounted troops cantered around the field in two lines before peeling off one at a time to begin their attack. Watching them were two cavalry instructors known as écuyers, or squires, who called out commands as the exercise continued.

  ‘They call this en passant,’ said Quirren who was standing next to Malaki. ‘They use it against the larger bestiarum of the Possessed.’

  Malaki watched as one of the riders began his attack only to veer away at the last moment at a command from the écuyer.

  ‘The idea is to draw the beast’s attention without getting hurt so that the next knight can make a successful attack,’ said Alex.

  ‘They measure the timing in hoof beats,’ added Quirren.

  He gave a slight smile and nodded as Malaki looked at him in disbelief. Surely no cavalry could achieve such precision as to measure an attack in hoof beats.

  ‘That’s the kind of thing they’ll teach us if we become knights.’

  Falco looked on as Malaki turned back to watch the impressive display of control. He could see the hunger to learn in his friend’s deep brown eyes.

  Finally one of the écuyers called out, ‘en vérité,’ and the current rider drove his attack home and speared the straw target to the ground.

  ‘It means ‘in truth’,’ said Quirren.

  ‘Sometimes they just shout vérité,’ added Alex. It was clear that both were in awe of such feats.

  The morning drew on and despite Alex’s continuing reluctance they decided to climb up and take a look at the crucible.

  Leaving behind the training fields, they climbed the rocky slopes to another flat area of ground. The mage tower rose up to their right and Alex kept glancing nervously up at it.

  ‘Are we allowed to be here?’ asked Malaki as they walked out onto the level ground.

  ‘As far as I know,’ said Quirren.

  Despite this, there was a distinct note of tension in the air as they approached the sunken arena. Suddenly the ground opened up before them and they found themselves looking down into a great oval depression fully forty feet deep and some eighty yards long. The sloping sides were cut into rock steps that descended to a floor of pale sandy gravel. It really did look like a great amphitheatre.

  ‘It looks old,’ said Bryna, gazing into the amazing space which looked like it had been there for centuries.

  The more they looked the more it appeared that Alex might have been right. The rock-hewn steps appeared scarred and scorched. It was easy to believe they had taken the brunt of countless battle mage attacks.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Falco. His attention had been drawn to a dark archway set into the eastern side of the arena. They could not see very clearly but the archway gave onto a tunnel that seemed to lead in the direction of the mage tower.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Alex in a whisper.

  ‘We could go down and take a look,’ said Malaki but Falco shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and look at something else.’

  There was something about the mouth of that tunnel that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, something that spoke of nightmares and the whisper of nightmares.

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex. ‘Let’s go.’

  They turned away from the crucible and walked back to the edge of the rise. The sun had started to come out and the unsettling fear that Falco had felt seemed to dissipate in the cold clear light. They stood at the edge of the rise and looked out over the plateau. From here the academy was spread out below them and beyond it the city rose like an island against the backdrop of the sea.

  Falco let his eyes roam from the rugged coastline in the south to the towering mountains in the north. As his gaze returned to the plateau he saw a row of stone-built cottages. Smoke was rising from one of the small chimneys and a man was standing in the middle of a vegetable plot at the end of the row. Although quite bright it was still cold but the man wore only a light shirt over pale brown trousers. He seemed to be staring at something high in the sky behind them.

  Falco followed the line of his gaze and there, in the gaps between the clouds he caught sight of a dragon. This was much closer than the one they had seen on their approach to the city. Now he could make out much of its shape and the way its wings moved to catch the air. As he watched, Falco saw it draw in its wings and fall sharply before spreading them wide and wheeling up and away out of view. His heart soared and he looked down to see the man in the shirt staring up into the sky as if he could still see the dragon. There was something strange about the way he stood, something that reminded Falco of the men who had taken part in the rearguard sorties during their flight from the Possessed. It was a kind of distractedness, a disassociation with the world around them.

  Then from out of the cottage another man appeared but this one walked with a pronounced limp, his body was hunched and Falco could see that he had only one arm. He ambled over and laid his one good hand on the other man’s shoulder. For a moment they just stood together then the man in the white shirt bowed his head and allowed himself to be guided back to the cottage.

  ‘The Crofters,’ said Alex, coming to stand by Falco’s side. ‘At least that’s what the people in the city call them.’

  Falco half turned but he could not take his eyes off the two men. The others moved across to see what he was looking at.

  ‘They’re actually retired battle mages,’ said Alex.

  ‘The older one looks injured,’ said Malaki and Alex nodded.

  ‘That’s Aurelian Cruz, a living legend. He and his dragon were crippled by a pair of demons in the north of Beltane.’

  Falco watched as the maimed man disappeared into the cottage with his companion.

  ‘He killed one of the demons but the other almost bit him in half before his dragon pulled him free. Even then he would have been killed by the demon’s fire if his dragon hadn’t got in the way. They say it covered him with its body and took the flames upon itself.’

  As Falco watched he saw the man stop and reach out a hand to something that lay beside the door and he suddenly realised that what he had taken to be a deeper patch of shadow, was in fact a dragon lying in the shade at the base of the cottage wall.

  ‘There’s a dragon there,’ said Falco.

  ‘That’s Dwimervane. Aurelian’s dragon,’ said Alex. ‘Crippled and half blind. It can’t fly but sometimes it climbs up into the mountains.’

  ‘It looks black,’ said Malaki.

  ‘Dark blue,’ said Quirren. ‘They say it won’t live long enough to turn black.’

  They were silent for a while and the man at the door still paused as if he were talking to a friend. Then quite suddenly he turned to look up at them and it was clear that his gaze was fixed on Falco. For a moment he continued to stare then he too ducked into the cottage and disappeared.

  ‘Who was the other man?’ asked Bryna.

  ‘I don’t know his name,’ said Alex. ‘But he was also a battle mage. The dragon he summoned was black and he was forced to kill it. Now his spirit is broken.’ He paused. ‘They call such men the Disavowed.’

  Falco felt a familiar grief tighten around his heart. For all its terrifying violence and hate he had been deeply saddened by the death of the black dragon in the Castle of the Winds. He could imagine how killing such a creature might destroy a man’s faith.

  ‘Come,’ said Alex. ‘Let’s go into the city and find something to eat.’

  An hour later they found themselves sitting on the battlements of the city wall, gazing out over the harbour and the sandy beach
that stretched away towards the River Denier in the south. Alex picked at the thick pastry on his beef and potato pie and finally he could restrain himself no longer.

  ‘So, have you actually seen him fight?’

  There was no need to ask who he was talking about.

  ‘Malaki fought him,’ said Bryna and Alex scowled in disbelief. ‘In the trials,’ she continued. ‘Someone,’ she glanced accusingly at Falco, ‘issued a challenge and the emissary accepted.’

  Alex stared at Malaki with unbridled envy.

  ‘You didn’t win,’ he said as if the very notion was unthinkable.

  ‘No,’ said Malaki, blushing with embarrassment.

  ‘No,’ repeated Bryna. ‘But he did break his nose.’

  Alex and Quirren simply gawped and the three Valentians laughed before proceeding to tell their tale in full. The story moved on to the summoning and the battle in the mountains. By the time it was finished the Klingemann brothers were stunned into silence. They had taken the three friends as simple country folk from the mountains, but as the afternoon wore on they realised that, for all their knowledge of Wrath and the academy, it was they who were the novices.

  The day had proven to be an exhilarating treat of exploration with a fair exchange of knowledge on both parts. By the time they returned to the barracks in the early evening their legs felt leaden from wandering the streets of the city.

  ‘Wonder what they’ve got for supper,’ said Alex as they approached the quadrangle building of the barracks.

  ‘Smells like stew,’ said Quirren, heading off to the sleeping quarters. ‘I’ll get the herbs from home.’

  ‘They never add enough seasoning,’ explained Alex, starting after his brother. ‘Save us a table by a window,’ he called back over his shoulder.

  ‘I’m going to change,’ said Bryna.

  ‘And I could do with a...’

  ‘Thank you!’ said Bryna, raising a hand and closing her eyes with a little shake of her head. She opened her eyes and looked imploringly at Falco. ‘Has he always had this habit of announcing his bodily functions?’

  ‘He’s always been disgusting, if that’s what you mean,’ said Falco with a smile.