The Stormcaller

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘No! No need for that, Lady Tila. I will be glad to tell you.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘My name is Evanelial, Evanelial Vesna.’ He watched Tila glumly as she burst into sudden laughter.

  ‘You mean as in the story?’ Tila began to laugh again, her usual calm deserting her as she tried to smother her giggles in her voluminous sleeve.

  ‘The very same. The story was written for my grandmother, but according to my parents, it used to be a man’s name.’

  ‘Oh yes, very masculine - oh dear, look at me,’ exclaimed Tila, suddenly aware that the eyes of the entire room were on her. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but with your reputation? Every boy in the tribe wants to grow up to be you, to be the consummate brave knight, the dashing rogue ...’

  ‘I know. And that’s precisely why I don’t tell people my first name - though most of them wouldn’t admit to recognising it.’

  The count’s pleading tone got through and Tila began to feel quite sorry for him. She had two brothers and knew how cruel boys could be to their friends. The martial life was not a forgiving one, and even less so for those who shone brightest.

  ‘You’re right, I apologise. I shall not say a word. Please forgive me for laughing.’ There was a smile on her face still, and Vesna nodded eagerly.

  ‘Forgiven, Lady Tila, if you in turn will forgive me my reputation.’

  The smile faded from Tila’s face, but she could see nothing to provoke her earlier dislike. She inclined her head regally and stood. ‘Perhaps I should not listen to tales. You appear loyal to Isak, so I shall not judge you yet. In the meantime, I believe I should be showing you to the barracks.’

  She felt a pang of guilt towards Isak for being so friendly, but only for a moment - when Isak had greeted her earlier, she had seen great affection in his eyes, but nothing more. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt, but if there had been something there, it had already faded for Isak. At some point they would have to talk alone, but there was no rush. She smiled wryly: Lord Bahl would be pleased.

  They said their farewells to the veteran Ghost, then Count Vesna, bowing slightly, ushered her out of the room with all the grace of a practised courtier. Carel watched them go out side by side: at that moment he felt very old, so out of touch. That thought stirred him into action and he got up to go in search of Chief Steward Lesarl’s offices. Surely there was something even an old man could do.

  The guardsman on the door outside Bahl’s study nodded to Isak and eased the door open. The old lord had removed his hood and Isak could see the concern etched on to Bahl’s face. The light from the stained-glass windows was weak, and a number of huge candles were already alight, their flames casting strange shadows on Bahl’s furrowed brow as he sat at his desk.

  ‘You’re glad to have your friend in the palace?’

  Isak smiled inwardly. Bahl was not one for small talk, but Isak hadn’t been the only one to notice that he was making an effort - a minor thing, but it made him less remote. The people of Tirah had all heard the last joke Bahl had made at his Krann’s expense, and that had helped dispel some of their fear.

  ‘I have more friends here than I’ve ever had in my life, but it’s good to see Carel again,’ he agreed.

  ‘He was a Ghost, was he not? Well, he may be more use than just as a friend.’

  Isak tried to stop his lord: ‘I don’t want to have to ask that of him. He retired to a quieter life for a reason. I don’t want to be ordering him to kill, or to spy for me.’

  ‘I understand, but never forget that he was a Ghost. I hear he thinks of you as a son.’

  Obviously Lesarl would report on every new face, but it still rankled that Carel - his friend - had come under the Chief Steward’s scrutiny. He didn’t say anything, but dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

  ‘I suspect he’ll demand to be involved soon enough,’ Bahl continued, then changed the subject as swiftly as always. ‘You know Count Vilan is in the palace to see his old friend, Sir Cerse?’

  ‘I do, but I’ve told Vesna to be patient about getting court apartments,’ said Isak firmly. ‘I’ll deal with Vilan soon enough.’

  ‘Good. If you need a man to do it - or woman, he has several quite capable - then ask Lesarl. I know you don’t like him, but you don’t want blood staining your livery.’

  ‘I’ll be careful. Was that what you wanted to see me about?’ He was puzzled that Bahl would bother summoning his Krann for something they’d already discussed.

  ‘No. There are two other things. Firstly, I have decided you should leave Tirah.’

  ‘Leave?’ spluttered Isak, incredulously. ‘But I’ve only just returned! Why would I want to leave?’

  Bahl held up a hand to silence Isak’s protest. ‘You will hear me out first. I will not force you to go, but I believe it is for the best.’

  ‘Was this Lesarl’s idea?’ snapped Isak, unable to keep quiet.

  ‘I said listen!’ bellowed Bahl, half-rising from his seat. His great hands gripped the mahogany desk as he leaned forward into Isak’s face, the curl of a snarl appearing from nowhere. Isak matched it, rising himself. The shadows darkened in the room and the copper tang of magic suddenly filled the air as Bahl’s anger flared. Isak’s mirrored it, his eyes blazing, but before anything more could happen he felt a near-irresistible demand from Eolis. His hand twitched down of its own accord before he snatched it back in horror.

  The shock restored his senses and he leaned heavily on the desk as the strength fled from his body, hardly aware that White Lightning was now nestled in Bahl’s grip. The old lord narrowed his eyes. He had expected an attack, but Isak was so stunned by the power of what had just happened that a breeze could have toppled him.

  Isak looked up, slowly recognising Bahl’s own readiness; his great blade was swept back and ready to strike. The younger man dropped to one knee, realising how close they had come to blows for no reason other than his own impatience. There was real contrition when at last he found his voice. ‘My Lord, forgive me. I—I don’t know what came over me.’

  Isak slowly unbuckled his bleached leather sword-belt, a gift from the new Suzerain Fordan, and let it drop to the floor. Only then did he dare lift his head.

  Bahl hesitated, wary of a ruse; it was a moment or two before centuries of instinct let him relax again.

  Only then did Isak stand and retrieve his chair, waiting for Bahl’s consent before sitting again.

  ‘That’s one reason why you should leave for a while. We’ve had enough of each other’s company for a while. Also, with this Shalstik matter, I think it is safe to say they could try again. I want you to go west, to Narkang. It’ll be a long way for trouble to follow unnoticed, and that aside, King Emin would be a good ally.’

  Isak considered Bahl’s words. He knew a little about Narkang, the emerging kingdom in the west, where all of the cities were populated by people of mixed blood, not pure-bred members of any of the Seven Tribes. The tribes had always looked down on half-breeds, but King Emin had created a nation to rival them all.

  ‘Emin Thonal took the crown at the age of twenty-one, and three years later he conquered Aroth, the larger of his neighbours,’ Lord Bahl said. ‘Two years after that the renowned warriors of Canar Fell surrendered on the field rather than face utter destruction, and five years on, Canar Thrit bowed to economic pressure and voted to join Thonal’s kingdom. In the space of twenty years, Narkang has grown into one of the largest and most prosperous cities in the entire Land.

  ‘King Emin could be a valuable ally. Our man there is sure that the king has halted his expansion and there is room now for friendship. He could be vital if there’s more trouble on the horizon, and you’ll find more to learn about court politics in Narkang than even Lesarl could teach you here.’

  ‘I will do as you command,’ said Isak quietly, bowing his head again.

  ‘I don’t want you to do as I command,’ Bahl replied, softening his voice a little. ‘I want you to understand why this is a good idea. We�
�ve spent too long together on the journey back; I do not wish to let bad blood come between us. You’re still young and hot-headed, I am perhaps rather set in my ways.’

  Isak kept his eyes on the floor to hide his smile in case the old lord had missed the humour in his words. The Krann knew he was rash, but Bahl’s temper was at least as much of a danger to those around.

  ‘Then I do agree, my Lord. I have no wish to be a prisoner in the palace, constantly on my guard for the next Estashanti assassin. And who could turn down the chance to visit Narkang?’ He forced a smile to diffuse the last of the tension.

  ‘Good. We will discuss this again later, but there is a rather more pressing matter, one that will, to a degree, explain your short temper. Tell me, do you feel anything different? Anything out of place?’

  Isak shot his master a questioning look, unsure what Bahl was expecting from him. The lord sighed.

  ‘No matter, I was not sure whether you would be able to actually tell, but I think it is affecting you anyway. You’ll no doubt recognise it in future, once you’ve felt his presence more strongly.’

  Isak’s face remained blank. Bahl stood and spread his hands in exasperation. ‘We have a visitor. I only noticed him once we had driven the elves out, but now he’s in the city and about to arrive at our gate. Pick up your sword and come with me to greet him. Just keep your temper in check. He isn’t as forgiving as some.’

  Isak looked for a name, but was ignored as Bahl walked around him, a slight smile twisting his mouth, and opened the door. The main wing of the palace was four storeys high, with a warren of cellars extending beneath. Bahl’s chambers, which occupied much of the small top floor, had a balcony running around them to give a view of the city over the peaked roof of the Great Hall. The palace was rather more functional than the name suggested, lacking the decoration that characterised the homes of the richest noblemen in the city. Only small things, like the number of glass panes, belied Tirah Palace’s martial image.

  Both men wore soft leather boots; despite their size, they padded down the main staircase as stealthily as panthers, shocking the soldier and maid who were chatting conspiratorially at the bottom. Both jumped when Isak cleared his throat just behind them, bowing as Isak smirked, then moving swiftly out of the way as Bahl strode past imperiously.

  In the Great Hall the two white-eyes drew curious glances, but those were cut off when the warning horn sounded through the clear winter air. Men jumped to their feet, bowls, glasses and goblets and cutlery flying in all directions as they scrabbled for their weapons. A pair of guardsmen had been just entering when the horn rang - by the time the louder steel clang of the attack alarm followed, they were ready, their weapons drawn.

  Bahl, a vision of calm, walked through the open door, Isak still close behind him. The stone steps that led to the training ground were icy and treacherous, but he trotted briskly down and made his way straight to the barbican. Isak noticed a bright light flaring from the normally murky depths of the tunnel.

  As he hurried to keep up with Bahl, a wave of awareness broke over him and rocked him on his heels. He could feel a burst of magic echo out, an alien feeling that set every nerve screaming danger. His hand flew to Eolis so quickly that the Ghosts scrambling past leapt back in surprise.

  He had half-drawn the blade when he realised that the old lord was still quite unconcerned. No doubt he could feel the same, but he appeared not to mind. Ramming Eolis back into its sheath, Isak broke into a jog and caught up. Now he recognised the difference that Bahl had mentioned, the feeling of something that was out of place.

  As they entered the tunnel, they saw six men with weapons drawn, frozen into silhouette by a gigantic figure. A deep bellow of laughter echoed towards them while massive flames danced from the outstretched hands of the monstrous visitor. Isak felt Bahl draw magic into himself and followed suit, fighting the urge to tear Eolis out and charge straight in.

  As he closed, Isak took a better look at the newcomer, and realised with a gasp that it was a Chetse white-eye, a huge man whose barrel chest almost surpassed description. The Chetse was shorter than Isak, only a hand taller than the guards levelling drawn bows at him, but lack of height did not detract from his unbelievable size.

  All Chetse were muscular compared to the Farlan, and this man could have been a caricature if it hadn’t been for the aura of raw, limitless strength that surrounded him. He was cackling with sheer pleasure as the leaping slices of fire raced up to the roof and played in loops about his arms.

  ‘Lord Bahl,’ boomed the man as he saw the pair approaching. The Ghosts almost sagged in relief as Bahl motioned for them to lower their weapons.

  ‘Lord Chalat, welcome to my palace,’ replied Bahl warmly as the Chetse released the magic. ‘May I present to you my Krann? Lord Isak - Lord Chalat, Chosen of Tsatach.’

  Isak bowed awkwardly, his obvious discomfort merely widening the Chetse’s grin. Bahl then cocked his head to one side and Isak tore his gaze away from the white-eye, finally noticing the curious sight beside the Chetse: pinned up against a wall was a fully armoured guardsman, his weapons on the floor at his feet. The foot of some small foreigner was planted firmly on his throat. The little man held a steel-tipped quarterstaff ready and showed no sign of putting up the weapon. Looking over to the other Ghosts, Isak saw one was sheepishly wiping blood from his mouth and another looked less than steady, his helm knocked askew.

  ‘And your companion?’ continued Bahl after a pause. ‘And why is he trying to kill one of my guards?’

  Under that gaze, the small man bent his leg at the knee, keeping his stance for a moment before lowering his leg. He stepped back, adopting a rather less aggressive pose, but still impressively proud in the face of a white-eye almost two feet taller.

  ‘Ah, now there’s a man with a story,’ replied Chalat in heavily accented Farlan, his good humour undiminished. ‘Offer us food and drink and we’ll tell you all.’

  CHAPTER 21

  ‘And there you have it,’ declared Chalat, ending his story with a flourish. The enormous man sat back in his chair, hurriedly fetched from an upper chamber, and took a last bite at the leg of lamb in his hand, then tossed it over his shoulder with a satisfied air. The bone slapped on the wall behind, falling to the ground where a hound fell upon it. The sound of the dog’s teeth on the bone was the only thing to break the silence as the small audience considered Chalat’s words.

  The eight men sat around a circular meeting table in the chamber at the base of the Tower of Semar. Bahl had limited the attendees to his closest aides, Kerin, Lesarl and Lahk, but Isak had brought Vesna with him - it would probably give rise to complaints by the other nobles in the palace, but Bahl had pointedly ignored the count’s inclusion. Vesna had mentioned in passing a debt and some sort of assistance given to him by Lesarl. Clearly the count owed a favour, and Bahl was happy for him to be attached to Isak.

  As for Carel, Isak decided to have a long talk with the old man before dragging him into the Land’s politics.

  ‘Mihn,’ Isak said suddenly. The Chetse’s companion intrigued him. The man’s manner was so quiet and calm; it spoke of great confidence in his own abilities. ‘Lord Chalat said you were from the clans on the north coast.’ Mihn inclined his head.

  ‘In that case, how is it you speak Farlan so well?’ Isak was determined to get more than a nod from the man. There was something about Mihn’s speech that nagged, something Isak couldn’t quite place yet.

  ‘All the clans speak Farlan,’ Mihn said, almost doubling the number of words he’d uttered since his arrival.

  ‘But why? You must be too far away to have any contact with us.’

  ‘Farlan is the root of our language, and with the Great Forest a week’s ride away we have to keep close ties to the other clans,’ the man said.

  ‘All the Land’s languages come from the same source,’ interjected Lesarl contemplatively. ‘Since Mihn speaks Chetse too, I’m sure we would not be surprised at how quickly he could pick
up others.’

  Mihn’s face was full of suspicion; the Chief Steward was watching him carefully, scarcely even blinking. Isak knew Lesarl was distrustful of everyone, but this time he agreed - and suddenly he knew the answer ... but it gave rise to yet more questions.

  Perhaps the nobles hadn’t noticed, but even after six months, Isak still found their words overly pronounced: Mihn spoke like a nobleman. His cadences and rounded syllables were too cultured for any barbarian clansman. He certainly wasn’t Farlan, but he was more than he let on.

  ‘My Lord,’ said Kerin, breaking the thoughtful silence hanging over the table, ‘this daemon-arrow sounds like powerful necromancy to me - but Malich must surely have been dead too long to set this in motion. I was under the impression that Malich’s skill was an extremely rare thing. So that makes me think this was done by an acolyte, or he’s returned from the grave somehow.’

  ‘I would be surprised if he had,’ Bahl said.‘Denying death is more difficult than animating corpses or incarnating daemons. From what I know of raising the dead, I think we disposed of the body well enough for that to be an option.’ There was a hint of a smile on his face. Isak remembered the sight of Genedel gulping down corpses on the battlefield and shared the old lord’s smile.

  ‘Well then, either way we have a problem,’ continued Vesna. ‘Either Malich had an acolyte strong enough to cast this himself, which surely we’d have realised, or-’

  ‘Or this has nothing to do with him,’ finished Kerin.

  ‘I agree.’ General Lahk looked extremely uncomfortable as all eyes turned towards him. He kept his distance from Isak and Bahl whenever possible. Sharing a room with three white-eyes, each vastly stronger than he, was not a comfortable situation.

  ‘This weakens your army considerably, Lord Chalat. Charr is still young for a Krann, and from what we hear, lacking much intelligence at the best of times. That’s how the elf was able to draw him out in the first place. I doubt a possessing daemon would have any more understanding of how to lead an army.’