The Wizards' War

by Angela Holder

  “Here it is, son. The Secret we’re sworn to keep. It doesn’t look like much, but this is what allows the Armada to rule the seas. This is what’s kept Ramunna free of Marvannan domination for the last fifty years. Go ahead, get a good look. You can touch it if you want.” Kesolla demonstrated, dipping a finger into the powder and rubbing a few grains between the tips of finger and thumb.

  Tenorran gingerly copied him. The powder felt like coarse sand, each grain a distinct little dark gray sphere. “It burns?”

  “That it does. Suddenly and violently. Pack enough of it into a confined space and touch it with a flame, and it explodes.”

  So this was the source of the thunderclaps that shook the ship every time the secret weapon discharged its deadly projectiles. He rubbed it meditatively between his fingers a moment more, then followed Kesolla’s example as he dropped the grains back onto the pile, wiped his fingers on the cloth, then rinsed off the last gray smudges in a barrel of water beside the worktable.

  Kesolla added three more scoops, then gathered the cloth around the powder and secured it with a length of twine. The resulting bundle was about the size of a man’s head. After carefully returning the tools and materials to their places, Kesolla took a small metal flask from a cabinet and tucked it into a pocket on the inside of his coat. He hefted the bundle of powder. “We’re done here for the moment. Follow me.”

  He retrieved the lantern and used three keys—Tenorran couldn’t tell if they were the same ones or different—on another door in the corner of the room. This one led to a narrow dark corridor that ran along the curved hull of the ship, all the way from the stern to the bow. At the end a steep stair led upward. Kesolla unlocked another door—only one key this time—and led Tenorran into a room somewhat larger than the first. This one was wedge-shaped and lit by a number of narrow slits high up that admitted faint sunlight. In the center a huge horizontal iron cylinder rested on a wheeled wooden structure.

  Tenorran caught his breath. He’d seen the tip of the long tube protruding through the hatch in the hull. But he’d never realized the whole weapon was so large.

  A dozen Secrets officers were waiting. They saluted the commander and greeted Tenorran when Kesolla introduced him. Kesolla displayed the bundle of powder. “Let’s show Lieutenant Fovarre how it’s done.”

  Tenorran pressed his back against the wall while the men went through a smooth, obviously well-rehearsed ritual. One swabbed out the tube with a wet mop on a long handle. Another used a second mop to dry it. Kesolla placed the bundle of powder at the mouth of the tube, and third man shoved it deep inside with a similar tool, this one ending in a flat disk. Next a crumpled wad of rags was pushed in, and finally one of the officers took an iron sphere the size of Tenorran’s head from a neat pile next to the weapon and fitted it into the tube. Several men helped pound it into place against the powder and rags.

  “Everything must be packed tight,” Kesolla explained. “We’re using solid shot for this exercise, but we’ve got explosive shot also, with some of the Secret inside a hollow shell.” He rang a large bell mounted next to the weapon. Tenorran was familiar with the signal that indicated to the rest of the ship’s crew that this discharge of the weapon was a drill, not the herald of an enemy attack.

  One of the officers turned a crank to open the shutters covering a small square hatch in the ship’s hull. Five men on each side rolled the massive tube forward until its tip protruded from the hatch. Kesolla beckoned Tenorran close to the rear of the weapon. He pulled the flask from his coat, uncorked it, and poured a small amount of the powder into a depression in the rear of the tube.

  One of the officers brought forward a long coil of white rope that smoldered at one end. Kesolla straightened, took a visual inventory of each of the officers and their positions, and nodded. “You might want to cover your ears, son.”

  Tenorran felt ridiculous putting his hands over his ears like a frightened child, but the rest of the officers were doing it, so he copied their gesture. Kesolla said, “Fire.” The officer touched the glowing end of the rope to the little pool of powder.

  The powder sparked, releasing a puff of smoke. A moment later a wall of sound hit Tenorran like a blow. A brilliant flash and billows of gray smoke burst from the mouth of the tube. The weapon hurtled backwards and crashed into the rear of its wooden cradle. A metallic, ashy smell filled the room.

  Kesolla pointed out the hatch. Far out at sea, a plume of water splashed into the air. “You’ve seen what a ball can do to an enemy ship.”

  Tenorran nodded. They’d been at peace with Marvanna the whole time he’d served in the Armada, but occasionally a Marvannan ship would try to sneak past the blockade and there would be a skirmish. The weapon could blow gaping holes in a ship’s hull.

  “Word is the Tevenarans have no navy to speak of, nor land troops either,” Kesolla said. “I expect the fight to be disappointingly short. They can’t have seen anything like the Secret before. I’ll be surprised if we get five shots off before they panic and surrender.”

  The other officers agreed with a mixture of grumbling and laughter. They set to work cleaning the weapon to prepare it for its next use.

  Tenorran watched what they were doing and listened to Kesolla’s explanations, but his mind was far away. He pictured a city full of unsuspecting civilians rushing from their homes as fire and destruction rained from the sky.

  He hoped the Tevenarans would be intelligent enough to surrender before too much damage was done.

  Two

  Elkan stood at the rail of the ship, staying out of the way as the bandits-turned-sailors of Ozor’s crew maneuvered the ship up the Tarath toward Elathir. He scanned the dock as they drew near. The crowd of red-cloaked watchers indicated that the stolen vessel had been recognized. Among them stood three people in brown cloaks accompanied by animals. One had an owl perched on her shoulder, another rested his hand on a deer’s back. A brindle bulldog nosed around the ankles of the third. Gold glinted at the edges of the man’s cloak.

  Hanion. Elkan’s stomach clenched. He’d been dreading this confrontation since they left Ramunna. At least he wouldn’t have to hold their first, pivotal discussion in the Guildmaster’s office. He didn’t know if he could bear to see Hanion seated behind the desk that had been Dabiel’s for so long. And he needed to face Hanion as an equal, master wizard to master wizard, despite every effort Hanion would surely make to intimidate him. That would be difficult in the room where he’d spent so many hours as an apprentice and journeyman.

  Tobi butted her head against his hand. Don’t let the old pooper-scooper scare you. She sent Elkan a vivid image of an incident they’d witnessed not long after they’d bonded. Hanion had been forced to clean up after Mavke when in a moment of absent-mindedness the bulldog had relieved himself in the middle of the Mother’s Hall.

  Elkan snorted. His familiar never failed to lighten his spirits. The mountain cat’s crude humor had been startling at first, but he’d come to value it. They’d been partners for a full year now; they’d celebrated Springtide in the middle of the ocean. A crazy, harrowing, world-changing year, during which he’d often had cause to be thankful for her playfulness and keen eye for the ridiculous.

  He glanced at his former familiar and his apprentice. “Josiah, please remember what I told you.”

  Josiah rolled his eyes. “Yes, master. I promise, I won’t say a word.” He scratched the base of Sar’s ears. The donkey pressed into his fingers with a sigh of pleasure.

  Elkan forced himself to smile at them before he turned to stare at the dock again. He shouldn’t worry. Josiah had matured a great deal during the past year. He could still be impulsive, but his judgement had improved immensely. He could be counted on to follow the plan. If he deviated from it, Elkan could be sure he had a good reason, and he’d be wise to follow his apprentice’s lead.

  Finally all the ropes were secured. Ozor’s crew extended the plank to the dock. Elkan squashed his doubts and strode across. Tobi lo
ped at his heels, Josiah and Sar following.

  Hanion reached to clasp his hand. “Welcome home, Elkan. I’m surprised to see you so soon. Did your mission in Ramunna go well?”

  Elkan returned the pressure of his hand, shaking his head grimly. “I’m afraid not.” He acknowledged the others with a quick nod before turning back to Hanion with his most urgent question. “Did the food arrive safely?”

  “Three weeks ago. We distributed some and stored the rest. It will be more than enough to take us through the summer, and Master Sabanan said this year’s harvest should be back to normal.” Hanion studied Elkan, a deep crease between his brows.

  “The ships left?”

  “The next week.”

  Elkan cursed silently. Three large Ramunnan ships would have helped their defense a great deal. Captain Yosiv, at least, would have taken their side. But the Tevenaran ship was slower than the Ramunnan trading vessels, so it wasn’t surprising they’d missed them. He’d have to implement the plans he’d made to defend Elathir without allies.

  First, though, he had to persuade Hanion. “You haven’t seen any other Ramunnan ships?”

  “No.” Hanion’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Why?”

  Thank the Mother, they weren’t too late. “The Armada is coming. Factions within Ramunna conspired to turn the Matriarch against us. They persuaded her that Josiah and I were working for Marvanna and tricked her into believing I’d betrayed her. She intends to conquer Tevenar and destroy the Wizards’ Guild in retaliation.”

  Hanion and the others gaped at him. Elkan plowed on before they could recover enough to ask questions. “I don’t know exactly when they’ll get here, but it will be soon. We’ve got to be ready. I’ve been working on plans while we traveled. We’re going to have to evacuate Elathir, send everyone who can’t fight to other towns or into the countryside. We need to arm as many people as we can and prepare them to hold off the invaders. We need to put archers and wizards aboard every ship we’ve got and station them—”

  “Wait!” Hanion stared at him, fists clenched tight. “You started a war with them? This is exactly what I feared. It’s why I opposed sending a wizard to Ramunna all along.”

  Elkan shook his head impatiently. He bit back an angry response and rephrased it more diplomatically. “Refusing to go wouldn’t have helped. The Matriarch was planning to send the Armada and seize a wizard by force if we’d turned down her offer. We would have been taken by surprise. At least this way we have a little warning and can prepare to defend ourselves.”

  Hanion pressed a hand to his eyes. “Defend ourselves? How are we supposed to do that? We know nothing of fighting. Ambassador Gevan said the Armada was the strongest military force in Ravanetha! They’ll destroy us.” He shook his head. “It’s hopeless. We’ll have to send a ship to meet them with our surrender before they start killing people.”

  “It’s not hopeless! We have the Mother’s power on our side. You’ve read the First History; you know how effective a weapon it can be.”

  Elkan stared at Hanion, willing him to back down. He wouldn’t let the man’s cowardice doom them all. Hanion didn’t know how ruthless the Matriarch was, or how angry. She believed Elkan had tricked her into killing the daughter that would have saved Ramunna, the daughter she’d been trying for more than twenty years to bear. She’d slaughter every wizard and familiar in revenge for that imagined offense, even if they laid down at her feet and begged for mercy. She’d turn Tevenar into a province of Ramunna if they surrendered, subject to all the injustice and suffering that land endured.

  At least if they fought back they’d have a chance.

  Hanion’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Todira and Raon, who were watching and listening in horrified fascination. “Let’s take this to the Hall. It’s a grave choice we face. All the masters deserve to have their opinion heard.”

  “I agree. And the Council as well. This is a decision for all of Tevenar, not the Wizards’ Guild alone.” Elkan hated the thought of delaying while the Council of Guildmasters debated the issue passionately and at great length, but it was better than letting Hanion make the choice for them. “Send these watchers to call them into session. We can start in an hour if they impress on the guildmasters how urgent it is.”

  Hanion looked furious, but Todira and Raon were both nodding, so he had little choice but to go along with Elkan’s suggestion. He spoke to the watchers and several of them headed toward shore.

  Josiah coughed into his hand. “Ozor.”

  In the urgency of the moment he’d almost forgotten. “One more thing, Hanion. As you can see, Master Ozor Sailorkin Trader transported us home. In return for this service to Tevenar, I promised him and his people full pardons, formal ownership of the ship they stole, and the right to trade between Tevenar and Ravanetha. Also a substantial sum of money.” He didn’t mention what else he’d conceded to buy Ozor’s help. He still feared that turning over the right to sell the newly discovered insulin had been a huge mistake. But he’d been forced to decide quickly, and he hadn’t been able to think of a better way to get the medicine to the diabetic children in Ramunna and the rest of Ravanetha who needed it.

  “The man’s a murderer, Elkan!” Hanion exclaimed.

  “I know.” Elkan had watched through a window as—he banished the memory forcefully. “But I believe he’s no further danger to the people of Tevenar. He’s willing to remain aboard the ship with all his crew, as long as we provide supplies for their voyage back to Ramunna.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t like it either, Hanion, but it’s only thanks to him we have any chance at all to stand against the Armada.”

  For a moment Elkan was afraid he’d pushed the Guildmaster too far, but the rage that burned in Hanion’s eyes and grated in his voice didn’t break free into violence. “Very well. But I want him gone the minute those provisions are aboard.” He gestured curtly inland. “You’d better go to the Hall and get ready to address the Council.” He stormed back to the watchers and began barking orders.

  Elkan was more than happy to obey. He picked up his meager bundle of belongings—they’d fled Ramunna with only the clothes on their backs—and beckoned for Josiah to follow him.

  His heart leapt at his first glimpse of the Mother’s Hall, serene and solid as always at the peak of the low hill that was the highest spot in Elathir. And yet the sight didn’t give him the contentment and sense of certainty it always had before. It was home, but it no longer represented his whole calling. The Mother had charged him with a task that reached far beyond its walls. As long as it remained undone he couldn’t rest, here or anywhere. He hadn’t failed completely—there were three wizards working right now to serve the people of Ramunna and to continue to spread the Mother’s power throughout Ravanetha—but he’d fallen far short of what he’d hoped to accomplish. If Tevenar fell to the Armada, the Mother would bitterly regret the day she’d gambled everything the Wizards’ Guild had built in a thousand years on the chance that Elkan could become another Gurion Thricebound.

  He grimaced and put those thoughts aside as they entered the Hall. They wouldn’t help him do what he needed to.

  His room was just as he’d left it. He wished he could collapse on his bed and sleep until morning, but instead he stripped off the tunic and breeches he’d been wearing for the past two months and donned the best of the clothes he’d left behind. The tunic had stains the cleaners hadn’t been able to remove, and the breeches were worn thin at the knees, but he’d taken all his good things with him. They’d been left in his room in the palace in Ramunna. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Matriarch had ordered them burned.

  The only item he regretted losing was his wizard’s cloak. The rest were just clothes, but Master Dabiel had put the cloak around his shoulders the day he’d become a member of the Wizards’ Guild. He stared at the hook where it had hung all the time he’d lived in this room, his throat tight.

  Tobi came to twine around his legs, nearly knocking him over. I’m hungry. And I’m sick
of fish and salted meat. I want to tear into something warm and bloody.

  Food was seldom far from his familiar’s mind. We can stop by the dining hall before I go to the storeroom to get a replacement cloak. I could use a snack myself. His mouth watered at the thought of soft, freshly baked bread.

  An hour later, both their stomachs pleasantly full and a new cloak on his back, Elkan stood at the front of the large room traditionally used for Council meetings as the guildmasters of Tevenar arrived and took their seats. Over a hundred men and women, most much older than Elkan’s twenty-eight years, all with the confident bearing of those who excelled in their skills and had earned the respect and trust of their fellow craftspeople. He knew most of them, for he’d attended many Council meetings with Master Dabiel. They weren’t going to like the news he brought, and they wouldn’t want to give him what he asked for.

  Hanion called the meeting to order. “Master Elkan Farmerkin Wizard arrived back in Tevenar earlier today. He’s asked to speak to you.” He gestured for Elkan to take the floor.

  Tobi’s warm head under his hand gave him strength. He drew himself to his full height and squared his shoulders. “Guildmasters, I bring you grave news. Tevenar faces a terrible threat. Only with the combined wisdom, skill, and courage of everyone here can we hope to overcome it.”

  That got their attention. They listened intently as he described what had happened in Ramunna. He kept the account as brief as he could, but took care to include the relevant details they would need to make their decision. He concluded by describing the plans he’d made for Tevenar’s defense and Hanion’s reluctance to adopt them. “Based on my experience with the Matriarch, I’m certain she’ll show no mercy if we surrender. She’ll destroy the Wizards’ Guild and subject your guilds to the same restrictive rules and heavy taxation she imposes on her own people. Or worse. The only way to preserve Tevenar as we know it is to fight.” He spread his hands. “I ask you to resolve to defend Tevenar against the Armada and to commit all the resources of your guilds to that cause.”