Sorcerers of the Frozen Isles se-5

by Jean Lorrah

  Sorcerers of the Frozen Isles

  ( Savage Empire - 5 )

  Jean Lorrah

  Jean Lorrah

  Sorcerers of the Frozen Isles

  Chapter One

  Spring sunshine warmed the air. Birds sang, butterflies danced among the flowers, and Torio, Lord Reader of the newly expanded Savage Empire, brooded as he rode beside Lord Wulfston. They were on their way to Zendi, temporary capital of their strange alliance and home to Lenardo and Aradia, unofficial leaders of that alliance.

  But no place here is my home, Torio thought.

  He had grown up in the Academy at Adigia, a powerful young Reader expecting to spend his life using his powers to benefit citizens of the Aventine Empire. Now there was no more Aventine Empire.

  And it’s my fault.

  No, it wasn’t his doing alone, but he had been a major factor in the force which had quite literally tumbled an empire, creating an earthquake that caused the earth to open and swallow up its capital city. Now they had a huge area to try to govern-a country full of hostile people whose lives had just been devastated.

  They had left the worst of it to Lenardo and Aradia after the fall of Tiberium, and Wulfston had returned to his own lands, acquired only the year before. Even though the new Lord of the Land had made life much better for his people in his short reign, there was still a danger that their trust in him could not survive a long absence.

  So Wulfston had gone home to secure his seaside kingdom-and Lenardo had urged Torio to continue to work with the Adept. “Wulfston knows how to teach people to obey him,” his teacher had said, “and still to love him. That is an ability you must have before you can rule your own land.”

  Ruling a land-it was not what Readers were born to in the Aventine Empire. But Lenardo insisted that Torio’s insecurity stemmed from youth. He had been only eighteen when his teacher told him that, and a Magister Reader-or at least Lenardo and Master Clement insisted he was.

  Torio had never taken the formal tests of his powers, but if there was one thing he was secure about, it was that he would have passed the most stringent tests the Council of Masters might have devised. His Reading was the one stable element in his life-it had to be, for he had been born blind. Without his Reading ability, he would have spent his life as a helpless liability to the family he had been born into. As it was, he perceived the world far better than any sighted nonReader.

  But what was he supposed to do with those powers now? All the rules had changed. Grown up in the communal life of the Academy, barred by law from owning property or holding public office, now Torio had treasures beyond imagination, and lands held in his name that he would rule one day. Expecting to be sworn to celibacy once he entered the top ranks of Readers, now h? was told he could marry if he so desired, without risking the loss of his powers.

  He often thought about that possibility… about Melissa. When his thoughts turned to her, they lightened-one good thing about this journey to Zendi was that he would get to see Melissa again! In the past year he had seen her only three times in person, although as Readers they had frequent mental contact.

  In the midst of his pleasant reverie, the sunny day suddenly plunged into blackness. Torio heard a rumbling, felt the jostling of a crowd. He was being pulled along, trying to escape—

  The noise grew louder, nearer, more terrifying, bearing down as people shouted incoherent warnings-Screams!

  The tug at him was suddenly gone-he was alone in a crowd, lost, panicked, as something rumbled and rolled over human flesh, crushing bones, the smell of blood and fear sweat rising- “Torio!

  Torio-what’s the matter with you?” At Wulfston’s voice, Torio suddenly realized that he was Reading something actually happening not far away. He focused his powers, and found-

  “Wulfston-a man’s being crushed to death! We’ve got to help him!”

  “Where?” was Wulfston’s only question. They were still in the Lord Adept’s lands-he would never withhold his powers when one of his people needed him.

  “This way!” answered Torio, and set off at a gallop, first along the road, then off it toward a stone quarry scarring the side of the range of hills that would intersect the road in a few more miles.

  Wulfston did not need to be told what had happened-when they reached the scene, everything was instantly obvious.

  These people were a family, earning their living by cutting rock from the hillside for building in Wulfston’s lands or in Zendi. The quarry was new, for the latest Lords of the Land had begun a spate of building such as had not been seen in most people’s lifetimes.

  Beneath the steep walls created by their work, they had been easing a huge block of granite down an earthen ramp, controlling it with block and tackle, when the ropes had given way. The stone had trapped the legs of a young man in his twenties, who now lay helpless while the others tried to remove the rock or dig him out from under it. Shock had left him unconscious, so Torio no longer had to endure his pain as he Read beneath the rock.

  “Wulfston, his left leg is almost torn off-he’s bleeding to death. They’ll never get him out alive!”

  Indeed, the old man and two strong young men flinging their picks at the ground were making little progress-the pathway down which they slid the quarried stones had been worn to the living, unyielding rock.

  Another young man, shivering even though his skin was covered with sweat, swore steadily as he tried to make his shaking hands ravel together the broken ropes to haul the stone off… his brother, Torio Read.

  Two women, the younger one obviously pregnant, knelt beside the pinned man, wiping his face-but there was nothing they could do. His life was slipping away as his mother and his wife watched.

  Another woman grabbed a pick and added her unskilled efforts to the task as Wulfston and Torio rode up. Down the slope, near the house, four children watched with huge eyes, not understanding what was happening, but too frightened to cry.

  The three women looked up as the riders approached, but the men would not leave off their efforts.

  “Me lord!” cried the older woman. “Oh, me lord-please help my boy! I’ll do anything-”

  These people might never have seen Wulfston before, or perhaps have glimpsed him only at a distance at some ceremonial or other, but they knew the Lord of the Land at once. He was the only black man Torio knew of north of what had been the empire’s border.

  As he and Torio got down from their horses, Wulfston hushed the mother and the rest of the family, saying, “We’ll help. Torio-is he alive?”

  Gray with shock, the young man lay so still that it was impossible to tell by looking at him, but Torio Read him. “Yes, but he won’t be for long. If he’s not out from under there in minutes-”

  “Oh, Bevan!” groaned the young man’s wife.

  “Then there’s no choice but to move the rock,” said Wulfston. “You men-get over on the other side and haul on the ropes. I’m going to use your strength as well as mine. When I tell you, tilt the block toward you.”

  Torio knew moving that huge block, of granite by Adept power alone-working directly against gravity-would tax Wulfston’s strength close to its limit. He almost started to tell the Lord Adept not to allow himself to become so vulnerable-but he shook off that thought. There was no question but that Bevan’s life had to be saved! How could such a selfish idea even cross his mind?

  He had no time to examine where a thought so unlike his normal Reader’s instinct had come from, for Wulfston was bracing to use his powers, becoming completely unReadable as the strong quarrymen took their places on the opposite side of the rock, tightening the ropes.

  Torio knelt beside the pinned man, waiting for the moment when the
rock shivered, lifted-

  “Higher!” he exclaimed, securing his grip under the young man’s shoulders.

  Trembling, the block of stone crept upward another handspan-and Torio hauled Bevan out from under just before it dropped again with a thunderous “whump!”

  Torio grasped the young man’s leg, where bright arterial blood pumped out, squeezing to keep the last of his life from spilling onto the rocky ground. “Wulfston!”

  The Adept had sunk to his knees in recovery from his effort to lift the rock. He looked blankly toward Torio for a moment, then pulled himself away from the desire to collapse and came to Torio’s side.

  “Straighten his leg,” he instructed Torio. “Unite the blood vessels.”

  Torio did as he was told, feeling Wulfston go unReadable again. Torio Read carefully, holding the major vessels while Wulfston concentrated, and they healed together, normal blood flow resuming. Only then did he shove together the splintered bone ends, watching them knit miraculously together into a tenuous bond. Then, with Bevan’s wife and mother tenderly cleansing the wounds, the torn muscles were healed, but-

  “The nerves, Wulfston.”

  “I can’t,” the Adept said wearily. “Make certain all will stay alive for now-the rest will have to be healed later.”

  The audience of quarrymen and their families stared as Bevan’s torn skin was carefully drawn back over his leg. Large chunks were missing, but the leg was saved, along with his life.

  Finally, the heat of Adept healing spread beneath Torio’s hands, killing any infection that had been introduced, and continuing the healing as the young man slept. Torio had seen it a hundred times, but every time it was a new miracle: Wulfston had set in motion the healing powers of Bevan’s own body, which he could not activate on his own. He would continue to sleep and heal even after Wulfston left him, probably for more than a day before he woke with his pain gone and his leg well on the way to being whole again.

  Wulfston had sat down, tailor-fashion, to concentrate on the healing. Now he remained still, withdrawn-Torio wondered if he would fall asleep right there. His tiredness was now completely Readable.

  But after a few moments he looked up, blinking. “Your son will heal,” he told the anxious parents. “Carry him to your house, and let him sleep until he wakens naturally. Then feed him-he will need a great deal of food to restore his strength.

  Don’t let him try to walk. His leg is alive, but he will not be able to feel it until the nerves are healed.

  When I return from Zendi, you must bring him to my castle. There Torio and I will finish the healing.”

  Bevan’s father and his brothers carried him carefully down to the house, his mother hurrying ahead to prepare his bed.

  “Oh, my lord!” Bevan’s wife knelt beside Wulfston, sobbing. “I thought sure he was dead, my lord! How can we ever repay you?”

  “No need,” Wulfston replied. “It is my duty to keep my people healthy-I’m just glad I was nearby.

  However, if you can provide me with something to eat-?”

  “Wulfston!” Torio warned suddenly. “Someone’s coming!” And to the woman he ordered, “Run! Get into the house!”

  As Bevan’s wife fled clumsily down the path, around the side of the hill came armed riders in the ragtag garb of hill bandits. They ignored the fleeing woman, charging directly for Wulfston and Torio.

  There were a dozen men, enough to make an Adept waste his powers until he made himself helpless-provided they knew exactly how to trick him into doing so.

  And it appeared that they knew what they were doing, for despite his tiredness after moving the quarried stone, Wulfston sent a sheet of flame roaring up out of the ground before their horses. The animals screamed and reared, but in moments the riders had them under control and were charging once more toward the two men, cutting off their chance of escape down the path.

  Wulfston did not kill indiscriminately; Torio knew he meant to frighten the attackers off, but he hadn’t succeeded.

  “Wulfston-save your strength!” said Torio, grasping the Adept by the arm and hauling him behind the rock as the bandits drew close enough to shoot arrows from short bows. They clattered off the rock, but the men kept coming, those without bows now drawing throwing knives.

  And below them on the slope, four other bandits rode toward the quarriers’ house with torches. In moments the thatch roof was ablaze.

  From their position, Wulfston could see what was happening below. Instantly, his responsibility for his people asserted itself, and he concentrated on putting out the blaze-again working against nature, for once that dry straw had begun to flame, it would have gone up instantly without Adept powers to stem it.

  “Wulfston, they’re dividing your attention!” Torio warned. “Put those men down there to sleep!”

  That the Adept had the power to do, but Torio could Read him clutching the granite block for support, and feared that the dozen men drawing in for the kill might be too many for Wulfston to handle. The young Reader drew his sword, prepared to defend Wulfston and himself to the extent of his strength and skill.

  The huge stone blocked the path, so that the attackers could get through only on one side. Three men jumped off their horses and started around. The first one ran straight into Torio’s sword, for the Reader could tell every move he planned and be ready for him.

  At their companion’s death cry, the other two charged forward together.

  Torio was a skilled swordsman-and, thank the gods, these two were not. He used the advantage of his sightless eyes, letting them drift unfocused, unnerving his opponents as they realized they were battling a blind swordsman.

  But even as Torio held the two at bay, the nine other bandits leaped from their horses and began to climb over the granite block, aided by the ropes still slung around it.

  “Wulfston-they’re climbing over the stone! Retreat!”

  The Adept, though, took another action. The ropes around the mighty stone blazed into flame, and the bandits dropped off, yowling, sucking at burned hands.

  Starting fires, Torio knew, was one of the easiest of Adept skills, taking very little power. As the flame sizzled around the ropes to where he fought with the two bandits, one of them started at the noise, allowing Torio to get in under his guard and skewer him.

  As a Reader, Torio had to deal swift death or suffer with his victim. He shoved his keen-edged sword upward to pierce the man’s heart.

  The other man’s fear sweat was a stench in Torio’s nostrils, but in terror he slashed at the Reader, forgetting what little style he had had as he drove the younger man back with the sheer power of panic.

  Torio evaded his blows, letting him waste the charge of adrenaline, waiting for an opening—

  But Wulfston did not wait. Seeing Torio apparently being beaten back, he stopped the man’s heart, and the bandit dropped at Torio’s feet.

  Just as Torio looked toward Wulfston, though, the fire consuming the thick ropes around the huge rock reached the underside-and as their support collapsed to ashes the stone shifted and slid.

  Wulfston grasped the moment. Working with the already-moving stone, he sent it skidding sideways, right toward the bandits on the pathway, crushing them to death against the side of the quarry.

  Torio gasped with their death agony, but in moments it was over, and he turned to Wulfston just as—

  Above them, on the edge of the quarry, more bandits appeared. Minor Adepts, they joined hands and concentrated together-just as they must have done to crush Bevan under that rock! It was all a trap-a ruse to draw Wulfston here and use up his powers so that he was helpless before their minor abilities.

  A sheet of flame rose out of the pathway. Wulfston swore as he and Torio ducked away from it, the Adept stumbling with weariness.

  “Why didn’t you Read them?” Wulfston demanded.

  “They were braced to use their powers,” Torio explained. “With everything else going on-”

  But even as he spoke, the gang at the to
p of the quarry were focusing on him.

  He felt his heart falter. Pain clutched at his chest as he gasped, “Wulfston, they’re-”

  Wulfston saw at once that the young Reader was in pain, and Torio felt Adept power set his heart back into a normal pattern. But how much strength could Wulfston have left?

  As he panted for breath, Torio felt a peculiar sick knowledge that he had not Read the whole story. The minor Adepts were retreating, and from behind them-

  “Wulfston! There are other men up there!”

  His warning came too late. New attackers suddenly dropped out of the sky.

  They leaped from the top of the quarry-stronger Adepts, able to protect themselves from injury in the fall-and they were armed.

  Knives and swords flashed-each man was a living weapon, a sword in one hand, a knife in the other, blades on their feet, on their elbows, leaping toward Wulfston, toward Torio.

  Death came slashing through the air, the attackers using gravity, only guiding their fall to be certain to land on their victims.

  It took a mere split-second, too short a time for Wulfston and Torio to run, with no shelter closer than the house far down the pathway.

  Torio Read death upon him, three men falling toward him, one slashing for his head even as the young Reader lifted his sword and prepared to take at least one of them with him—

  Flame!

  Screams!

  In midair, the falling men burst into flame!

  Their kicking and writhing changed their course — the one attempting to decapitate Torio bounced off the quarry wall, sword clattering on the rocks as he landed uncontrolled, the pain of broken legs unfelt in the agony of burning flesh.

  The seven who had dropped on them burned and screamed-five able to stand, dancing and shrieking as the fire ate from the outside in.

  “Wulfston!” Torio screamed in the men’s agony. “Kill them! Kill them!” His own flesh seemed to sear and flake off as theirs did, so caught was he in their death throes.

  Instead, a sheet of flame engulfed the other attackers watching from the quarry rim, sending them screaming and writhing and dancing the hideous dance of death as their flesh cooked off their bones, taking their hearts and brains last.