Shard & Shield

by Laura VanArendonk Baugh

  She shook her head. “The Ryuven have the same trouble; they are strong in magic but physically weak. So soldiers can fight them with material weapons, while the mages blunt their magic.”

  Now Becknam grinned. “Thank you, my lady, for your lesson in battlefield tactics. I’ll remember that the next time I take soldiers out to fight.”

  “I didn’t….” Ariana flushed hot.

  “It’s all right. And now I know the difference between a shield and a—a well….”

  “An inversion well. The well is like a heat-sink or a lightning rod, and ‘inversion’ refers to the elemental draw and dissipation of the primary energy while secondary reactive energy is routed—”

  “Stop! No more. Not unless you’re willing to sit through a return lecture on the anatomical mechanics of a throat strike.” He smiled at Ariana’s disgust. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but you mages are the ones separating out organs from their torsos.”

  “I suppose. Tam, sit properly.” The boy had curled into his chair, his knees drawn to his chin. At her gentle reproof, he slid reluctantly upright.

  He does age, she thought, watching him unfold. Every year, he was a quarter-inch taller, a bit lankier, a bit older. He does age. Just—not as quickly as he should. Was it an illness? An effect of bad breeding? She’d heard ailments and disfigurements could appear in remote villages where the blood pooled….

  The door opened to a young man with a tray. The iron bands on his wrists had larger rings than Tam’s slim cuffs. “The high priest thanks you for your patience,” he said softly, “and offers you this meal.”

  He set only two places. Ariana threw a quick glance at Tam, whose face fell a little. He pushed himself from the table and went to stand against the wall.

  Becknam returned and sat, looking over the table—bread and a tumble of root vegetables with bits of roast pork, all in gravy. The Gehrn’s slave poured watered wine for each of them, and then he retreated two steps from the table and knelt.

  Ariana kept her eyes on the table. She and her father rarely ate with full service, and she had never seen a slave kneel while serving; this must be local custom, or something of the Gehrn.

  Becknam was already eating appreciatively. Ariana followed his example, finding the meal delicious. She glanced at Tam. If they were dining with Flamen Ande there would be nothing she could do, but Ande couldn’t be offended by what he didn’t know. She laid pork over bread and held it out. “Here.”

  Tam accepted it silently, and Ariana saw the Gehrn’s slave watching before averting his eyes again. He had thick black hair which hung to his shoulders. It would need to be cut or bound soon. He was not handsome but had strong features, a good face for a servitor. She could glimpse something occasionally beneath the black hair, but she couldn’t get a clear view.

  She finished her wine, and the slave rose to pour. As he replaced the pitcher Becknam’s hand moved to catch his shoulder. The slave froze, and Becknam reached for his neck and rolled the chain there in his fingers. “You were one of the Furmelle prisoners.”

  “Yes, my lord,” came the quiet, uneasy answer.

  Ariana leaned forward to look. A chain of about a finger’s thickness lay across the back of the slave’s neck, ending in two rings. Through those rings was another linking chain which slid freely and ended in larger rings. The design was clear enough; tension on either or both large rings would tighten the chain about the neck. “That’s from Furmelle?”

  “Those who fought in the revolt were executed or returned to slavery. Captives were fitted with this collar during transport. It helped to pacify those who thought it dangerous to leave the rebels alive.” He picked up his wine. “It was my understanding most had the collars cut off by their masters or when they were sold. Obviously a few kept theirs, though.” He frowned. “Bend lower.”

  The slave obeyed stiffly, and Ariana watched as Becknam shifted the chain to reveal a blotched purple trail around the throat. “You’ve been giving them trouble?”

  The slave licked his lips. “I try to give good service, my lord.”

  Becknam waved him away, and he backed his two steps. Becknam focused on his plate and did not meet Ariana’s gaze.

  When at last they finished, the slave rose to gather the empty dishes before bowing over the tray and exiting.

  Ariana leaned over the table and looked directly at Becknam. “That was bruising from the collar? They choke him?”

  “That is one possibility,” he admitted. “Or it could have been restraint when needed. Or it might have simply caught on something. We don’t know.”

  Ariana set her jaw. “Those collars—”

  “Were used only on those who had fought us, and were mostly removed.”

  “This one should have been. Even if that bruising were accidental, it shouldn’t be allowed to happen. And if they are using it—”

  “It is no different than a quick cut of the switch,” Becknam broke in again. “Perhaps even preferable, who knows? You must remember, my lady, not all slaves are treated so well as your own. Tam is quite pampered by most standards.”

  “I know that! But there may be a difference between what I know to be true and what I know should be true.” She stopped, angry at both the slave’s treatment and her inability to express herself.

  Becknam softened. “I am sorry, Lady Ariana. But you must remember, I saw these same slaves trying very hard to kill my soldiers. Many of them succeeded. The collars, though not my idea, seemed a better alternative than allowing them to try again.”

  “Force begets force.”

  “What?”

  “It is a precept of magic. Force begets more force, usually a resisting force.”

  “The force began with their rebellion.” He gestured to the room and the citadel about them. “The Gehrn are a militaristic cult; they respect force. That slave fought us once. Would you have him executed, or collared?”

  What he said made some sense, and yet…. Ariana crossed her arms. Any apprentice mage knew it was difficult and wearying to counter force directly. Channeling power was far more efficient than resisting it. Any novice knew that.

  And yet that was how she had failed her examination for the Circle.

  The door to their stark room opened and Flamen Ande entered. “I trust you have not been too inconvenienced?”

  “The meal was wonderful,” Ariana said. “Thank you.”

  “And the service?”

  “Very good,” Becknam answered.

  “I am pleased.” He seated himself at the table. “Now, to the matter at hand. If we were to allow its use—and I ask only in hypothesis—would the Shard be kept intact?”

  Ariana’s heart quickened. “Yes, it will not be harmed. We will only use the quality of the ether to resonate a refractive energy—”

  Ande lifted a hand. “Your rituals are of a different variety than our own, my lady; your explanation will mean little to me. I am satisfied to know there will be no harm to our Shard.” He folded his hands. “Alham is a fine city, well-protected by sea and rock. Your lordship no doubt recognizes its many advantages. We have often admired it as we’ve thought of expanding our ring of preparation to the west.”

  Becknam’s throat worked. “We will of course welcome your visits to the city.”

  Ande’s mouth thinned. “I have always thought I should like to visit Alham one day.” He sighed and turned back toward the door. “I should return to the elders; a few are much disgruntled with the very question and have threatened to leave the table altogether.”

  Ariana’s stomach lurched. They were losing the Shard.

  “Wait,” she burst. “Flamen Ande… If you can’t help us, then let us help you.” She threw a quick, pleading glance toward Becknam. “My lord, couldn’t we find a place in Alham? A building somewhere, to be a hold for the Gehrn?”

  A muscle twitched in Becknam’s face.

  Ande smiled on her. “Thank you, my lady, it’s very kind of you to think of it. It is most unfortunate that
we cannot presently lend our strength for the coming wars of prophecy to fair Alham. As a soldier of some experience, commander, you must know one cannot hold ground without an entrenched defense. We of course would prefer to be of every use, were it possible.”

  “I see,” answered Becknam flatly.

  “It is most unfortunate you cannot send to ask the council. The Migrations make things so difficult. Perhaps in the next few days you might think over the city for a suitable place for us, some disused gatehouse or other facility? And we shall discuss our Shard.”

  “A few days?” Ariana repeated.

  Becknam pushed a hand through his hair and exhaled.

  “It will be so distressing to be parted from the Shard, even with your promises…. A noble cause, but you understand we sacrifice a great deal if our Shard goes over the mountains.”

  Becknam swallowed visibly. “I have a small townhouse in Alham. It is hardly your usual stronghold, but it is a worthwhile property, and furnished after a fashion. I will sign it to the Gehrn, to be your seat in Alham so long as the crown and council hold the Shard.”

  Ariana turned in surprise.

  “You are most understanding.” Ande smiled agreeably. “Your own house? I thank you, commander and Count of Bailaha. And as we will be so near, we would be pleased to share the Shard of Elan with others in need. We have agreed your interpretation of our sacred duty may be valid—if the Shard will protect a greater part of our world, that is what we must allow it to do.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Ariana breathed.

  “But,” he continued, “we still have incumbent duties. To that end, I or another priest must perform our annual high rites.”

  “We welcome your assistance,” Becknam told him. “The council will be happy to accommodate your obligations.”

  “Thank you.” Ande sat back in his chair. “I understand the Circle is probably quite anxious, or they would not have sent you during the Migrations.”

  Anxious enough, Ariana realized, that Ande had anticipated he could extort a townhouse from Commander Becknam. And she had aided him with her too-eager words.

  Ande was still speaking. “I trust you have some assurance the Shard will travel safely across the mountains?”

  Ariana’s throat closed at this fresh aspersion, but Becknam answered readily, “We chose our route most carefully and, being a small party, were able to avoid most dangers.”

  “You will take with you copies of our rituals. Now, excuse me. It will take some time to prepare the Shard appropriately; please be patient once more.” He left the room.

  Becknam raked his fingers through his hair and cursed. Ariana looked at his back. “Isn’t it finished, now?” She paused. “That was a great thing, giving up your townhouse.”

  “Heh. I’ve barely been in the place, and I’ve never stayed a night; it’s no loss to me. But the signing of it… King’s oats, what have I done?”

  Ariana frowned, not understanding.

  They were each occupied in private thoughts when the black-haired slave entered again. Ariana’s curiosity was piqued. “Surely the citadel does not receive enough visitors to require a dedicated servitor. What are your other duties?”

  He poured wine. “I serve the high priest, my lady.”

  “I didn’t think the Gehrn kept personal servants,” Becknam said.

  “Only the high priest, my lord.” The slave retreated two steps and knelt.

  Ariana frowned uncomfortably and turned to Becknam, who gave a slight shrug. Then he looked at the paper and ink the slave had set before him, and with a grimace he began to write.

  The door opened again and Flamen Ande swept past the slave scrambling to his feet. “The Shard has been prepared with proper ceremony,” he said, taking a chair, “and copies are being gathered of our most important rites.” Ande paused and looked at Tam, who had risen to stand against the wall.

  Shianan Becknam rose and stepped between them. “We are most grateful for your help. Please share a drink with us, in token of our new cooperation—the Gehrn and the council.” He gestured the priest toward the table.

  “I will,” said the flamen. “Luca, bring another cup.”

  The slave returned and began to pour. The first drip was accidental, but in his haste to recover he jostled the cup, spilling wine across the table.

  “Clumsy dog!” Ande seized the document with one hand and with the other snatched the chain at the shrinking Luca’s throat and jerked savagely. The slave was forced nearly to his knees before Ande shoved him away. The cup and the pitcher rolled in a dark puddle on the floor.

  Becknam started forward and froze, his jaw clenched. Ariana stared and could not move.

  “Clean this mess,” Ande snapped, “and bring more wine.”

  Luca’s hand was on his throat and his mouth worked once or twice without sound. “Yes, master,” he finally croaked, and he fled through the door.

  Tam was staring. “I will clean—”

  “Be still, Tam.” Becknam’s fingers had closed on Ariana’s wrist, silencing her unspoken protest and stilling the furious tremor of her arm.

  Ande began to speak, more calmly. “I will come for our annual rite in the summer.” He lifted the paper still in his hand. “Is this our surety? May I read it?”

  Luca returned more slowly, carrying a fresh pitcher of wine and a pile of towels. Without speaking Tam left the wall to help sponge up the spill.

  Ariana tore her eyes from them as a tap came at the door. “Flamen, everything is prepared.”

  Ariana had seen the broken bit upon which the Circle had experimented, but the actual Shard was far more striking—a jagged chunk of dark crystalline stone, about the length of Becknam’s forearm and twice as wide. The high priest touched it reverently and then drew up the quilted bag in which it sat. “I trust you will be careful of it.”

  “We shall take every precaution,” Ariana assured him. “It is as precious to us as to you.” She took the rolled parchments offered, copies of the Gehrn rites.

  Becknam lifted the padded Shard, his face betraying surprise at its weight. He clutched it close to his chest and bowed to the high priest. “On behalf of the King’s Council, I thank you.”

  Ande smiled. “And I thank you. I will come in two months’ time.”

  Chapter 5

  The journey back into the mountains was less fascinating this time, with the steep climb unmitigated by novelty. Becknam was stern and unsmiling, but he and Tam seemed to have declared an unspoken truce, which relieved Ariana; mediating between them was too wearying while climbing and worrying over the Migrations. In the center of the pass they were threatened briefly by a leucrocuta, but it was young and solitary and quickly deterred by Ariana’s repeated light stinging blasts. Unharmed—they were tough creatures, like toothy oversized pig-dogs—it snorted and retreated into the trees and rocks.

  Ariana watched it disappear, feeling pleased, and turned to see Becknam with his sword too tight in his hands. He took a deliberate breath, perhaps his first in a while, and forced an embarrassed smile. “They were leucrocutas which killed my men here before.”

  “The twenty?”

  He nodded, sheathing the sword. “They were not truly my men; I was only a sergeant. But I was responsible for them.”

  Ariana wasn’t sure how to respond. “It’s gone, now. We should move on.”

  Becknam started forward without speaking. Behind him Tam watched for a few steps and then started after him.

  That night Tam worked quietly and efficiently, likely sensing the commander’s frayed temper. Becknam carried the most weight as they traveled, the Shard as well as gear, and he did not share the load.

  Despite her fatigue, Ariana did not fall asleep. Her restless mind wandered over the Gehrn fortress, the high priest, the gasping slave, her stifled protest. Force begets force. And then, for perhaps the hundredth time, her examination replayed in her mind.

  She knew them, of course, the mages who would test her for the entrance rank of
Black Mage, but the examination’s formality kept her from greeting them as she might another day. Her father, highest in the Circle, would arbitrate. The five others faced her in a semi-circle and, upon his signal, brought their hands into position.

  She deflected the first attack easily; it was a simple bolt. The next came hard on its heels and was not much more difficult. The third was a favorite of hers, and she not only blocked it but reversed it upon its caster. There was no damage, of course; these mages were not of a level to be harmed so easily.

  The fourth and fifth came together, catching her off-guard. Still she was able to respond competently. She looked at them all then and smiled, confident she had passed. She had already submitted an impressive paper on the proper use of energies for maximum conservation; there seemed to be nothing left. She turned away from the five to look at her father. “Is—”

  Power shifted without warning, and Ariana spun back to see all five mages casting together. For one eternal second she watched them, stunned, and at the last possible instant she reacted, flinging up a desperate shield in the palms of her outstretched hands. The invisible bolt struck and burst into sparkling rays which scattered across the room. The six mages easily absorbed the rebounding magic and then stood silently, staring at her.

  Ariana licked her lips and turned to her father. “I blocked it,” she said, hating the plaintiveness in her voice.

  The White Mage sighed. “So you did. Barely. I’m sorry, but that is not enough.”

  “Not enough? But I did stop every—”

  “You hesitated too long at the last, and so your defense was…inelegant. The Great Circle is charged with protecting the kingdom. There is no room for hesitation or error on the battlefield.”

  The examination had ended, and she had failed. In the weeks since, she had thought of a dozen strategies and responses, but in the critical moment, she had failed.

  Force begets force. Her shield, however strong, had merely resisted the mages’ magic without altering it. She sighed and thumped her head on her pillowing arm, as if that would shift the memory.