Chaosmage (29 page)

“After this you'll be hungry and tired, but you'll feel much better.”

“All right. What do you want me to do?” asked Tammy.

“Just close your eyes.”

Balfruss put aside his axe and stepped close to Tammy until he was within arm's reach. Reaching up with both hands he placed one on either side of her face and bent his head towards her.

Power from the Source flooded into Balfruss, washing away all of his aches and pains, sharpening his senses and filling him with a deep joy. It was the power of creation, the fountain of all life, and he was a part of it.

Slowly he extended a fine golden mesh of healing energy that flowed outwards until it touched Tammy. He felt her flinch in surprise and saw her head tip forward until their foreheads touched. The golden light travelled throughout her body, knitting bone, mending tissue and reducing swelling. As the Source healed Tammy they stood together, wrapped in a cocoon of magic, and for a time the city and its taint could not touch them. A feeling of peace and contentment settled over him and Balfruss felt his mind drift.

He imagined he was back home in Seveldrom, walking through a field of long grass with the sun on his face. At the end of the field he came to a house where a familiar woman stood in the doorway, a child on her hip and another clinging to her knee. The scent of wild flowers and fresh bread filled his nose. In the real world he felt himself smile at the image.

All too soon the glow started to fade and he gradually withdrew the net of magic. He gently took his hands away from Tammy's face and stepped back, but she remained with her head bent forward and eyes closed. The smile on her face was not something he'd seen before. Looking more closely he saw the bruises and swelling had completely gone and he knew her cracked ribs had also been fully healed.

Finally she opened her eyes and they both heard her stomach rumble.

“You should get something to eat. Someone will find you if you're needed,” he said, gesturing over the wall.

“Thank you, Balfruss,” she answered, and he realised it was the first time she'd used his name.

As she went down the stairs he turned back towards the city and contemplated the difficult choice that lay ahead.

J
ust after breakfast Tammy and the mercenaries left the winery to scout the Dureen district again. All of them were armed to the teeth and Alyssa thought Tammy looked more determined than ever. She walked with purpose, as if she knew that today she would find something. Balfruss left shortly afterwards, looking equally driven, although he had the appearance of a man about to do something distasteful.

Last night there had not been any sight of the Forsaken. The whole city had been silent and still, wrapped in a freezing fog. They'd listened all night for anything that might indicate the other camps were being attacked, but no one heard anything. Alyssa wasn't sure which bothered her most, the silence or the screams.

She spent the next couple of hours organising people, assigning tasks and observing Zannah drilling groups in the courtyard. There was no wood to spare for training weapons so they had to use real steel. Alyssa had little experience with swords but it was obvious most had never held one before. Their movements were incredibly slow and clumsy but Zannah made them repeat the moves over and over until they could barely lift their arms. Then she moved on to another group while the first rested. The frost in the courtyard made their footing slippery, but it was good practice. It would be the same on the wall from now on as the nights would only get colder.

With a shiver Alyssa pulled on a pair of gloves and adjusted the scarf around her neck. If the Forsaken didn't kill them this winter then the cold would. At least if she froze to death she would know what to expect. She'd seen it happen several times to friends during the war. Closing her eyes she murmured a prayer to the Blessed Mother, asking for relief from the darkness that pressed on her mind. It made her thoughts bleak and she could almost feel it trying to leach all of the joy and hope from her heart.

The familiar sound of heavy feet coming up the stairs told her it was Zannah, even before she opened her eyes. The Morrin had been awake for most of the night on the wall and up early this morning. Alyssa wondered if the others would ever appreciate all that Zannah had done for them.

“I'm going into the city,” she said, waiting for Zannah to object. To Alyssa's surprise she just shrugged.

“You'll go over the wall no matter what I say, so why argue?” As ever the Morrin was being incredibly practical.

“I'm going to the old wood.”

“Will you try to stop me if I come with you?” asked Zannah.

Her question caught Alyssa by surprise because she had been about to ask Zannah to come with her. “No, of course not, but what about them?” She gestured at the lines of people training in the courtyard.

Zannah grunted. “They have no stamina. They're exhausted after a few hours of practice. If I push them any more today they'll be asleep on the wall tonight.”

Ten people kept watch on the wall, wrapped in layers of clothing and blankets. It had not yet snowed today but it was cold enough to start at any time. However, the weather would not deter them from taking their duty seriously. Several bore scars from fighting with the Forsaken two nights ago and they wore them with pride. A few even sneered at those practising in the courtyard, as if they were veterans of many wars.

“That arrogance will get them killed,” said Zannah, tossing the rope over the wall. In their minds they were the reason the Forsaken had been driven back. Alyssa had seen them frozen in place with fear, teetering between fight and flight. It was Zannah who had rallied them.

The Morrin went down first, watching the street for signs of trouble. Alyssa saw her gaze linger on one building longer than the others but she couldn't see anyone hiding in the ruins.

“Zannah? Is there something wrong?”

“No. Let's go.”

Alyssa knew her friend was lying but didn't press the subject as it only made her dig her heels in. She would talk about it or she wouldn't. Perhaps it was Zannah's stubborn streak that had rubbed off on her lately.

Following her usual route, Alyssa led the way.

When the city had been thriving, shops had put little stalls out every day, displaying a range of fresh crafts, paintings, seasonal fruit and freshly baked bread. The streets had been awash with noise and colour. With so many people creating music not all of them were sponsored by wealthy patrons. On every street corner a musician would stand with a bowl or hat, adding their latest tune to the hubbub.

Now only silence rang in Alyssa's ears. The crumbling ruins and empty shells of
once
-
beautiful
homes and shops loomed on either side. When she thought about what had been lost the ache in her heart was overwhelming. This pain didn't come from whatever had infected the city. It was her own heartache and she accepted it because she understood the reason.

Whatever happened with the Forsaken a part of her knew that Voechenka was lost. Perhaps it would be a kindness to tear down every building and let the area return to nature. In a hundred years or so, a forest or fields of grass would cover it and there would be nothing to show for all of the lives that had been lost. At least it would then be more than just a graveyard and a place of sorrow.

“Keep up,” said Alyssa, turning off the main road and cutting down a narrow side street. She took the most direct route west through the city, passing through Debrussi square, and carried on, heading towards the bank. Zannah must have realised where she was heading but remained silent and watchful, one hand resting on her sword.

When they reached the bank Alyssa was surprised to see no one on the roof watching the street. Picking up a handful of stones she started lobbing them at the roof, from where they clattered down noisily. When that failed to attract anyone's attention she picked up a large rock and hammered on the battered front door. The metal rang loudly and she felt the vibrations up both arms but persisted until someone appeared.

“Are you crazy, girl?” yelled the familiar voice of Graff from the roof. “We could have killed you.”

Half a dozen mercenaries were watching her and Zannah with bows in hand. All were dishevelled and
red
-
eyed
. They were probably exhausted after a long night of waiting for the Forsaken to attack, only for them not to show up.

“What do you want?” yelled Graff, grumpy at being woken up.

“You know what's coming. Do you think you'll be able to hold out against the Forsaken?” Her direct approach caught them by surprise and sullen faces turned thoughtful. The time for banter and pretending everything would be well was over.

“We've managed so far.”

“That was before they started destroying one base every night. Do you think they left anyone behind? Do you think they killed anyone if they could help it?” The only way to get through to them was with cold hard facts. Alyssa had done her best to avoid the ugly truth in the past, but the city had forced her to change. It was the only way to survive. Now they had to change too or die.

“Have you got a present for me today?” said Graff with a wry smile. It was something he used to say to her but today there was nothing suggestive in his voice. He looked wrung out and utterly exhausted. She knew they were all hanging on by their fingernails.

“Sooner or later, they'll come for you,” said Alyssa. They already knew that, but she felt it needed to be said. “Maybe you'll keep them out on the first night, and if you're really lucky, the second night. Eventually they'll get in. If you stay here and try to fight them by yourselves, you'll end up dead or worse.”

Graff started to say something, maybe to make a joke or curse her, but in the end he said nothing. When one of the men beside him started to mutter, Graff gave him a look and he fell silent.

“What are you suggesting? An alliance?”

“No.” Alyssa knew she had to make her position very clear from the start. The mercenaries understood a chain of command but if she asked them to work with her, then sooner or later they would take advantage of her kindness and try to take over.

Swearing an oath wasn't the right approach, but Monella had been right about one thing. In this sort of situation people needed someone to follow. Someone to tell them what to do and where to go. It gave them the illusion that the person in charge knew what they were doing.

Graff and the others were confused. “Then what's the deal?”

“You all work for me. I lead and you follow.”

In spite of everything the mercenaries laughed, hooting and howling, their voices echoing down the street. The only one of them not laughing was Graff. He didn't even crack a smile.

“Blessed Mother, we needed that,” said one of the other mercenaries, wiping a tear from his eye corner.

“Tonight, when the screaming starts and you hear people begging for death, think about my offer.” Alyssa's voice cut through their good humour like a razor. “If they come for you instead of someone else, see if you feel like laughing then.”

With that she turned and walked away, never once looking back. She desperately wanted to but kept facing forward, working hard to keep her breathing level and her emotions in check. Zannah walked beside her, a solid and reliable presence from whom she drew strength. If Zannah noticed her wiping away tears, she didn't say anything.

By the time they reached the west gate Alyssa was starting to feel more like herself, which made her laugh.

“What's funny?” asked Zannah.

“I was just thinking about who I am now and who I used to be.”

They followed the path beyond the gate, walking on what had once been a muddy track. It had frozen in the last few days and Alyssa heard it cracking under Zannah's unrelenting boots. After a few minutes she began to notice subtle changes in her friend and was pleased to see she was starting to relax. Zannah probably didn't even realise she was doing it.

At the top of a gentle hill they reached the edge of the old wood. Apart from patches of frost it looked much the same as the last time she'd visited. A couple of trees had been chopped down as she'd instructed, but the area was still beautiful. Above their heads a few little birds flitted among the branches, looking for food. The trees swayed gently in a mild breeze, creaking and groaning as if speaking in a language of their own.

Zannah was transfixed. She stared up at the birds with a
child
-
like
look of wonder. The area was so peaceful Alyssa felt some of the tension ease from her mind. It would be waiting for her when she went back, but for just a little while she wanted to pretend that it didn't exist.

“You did well with the mercenaries,” said Zannah, following her through the wood towards the stream.

“Do you think they'll listen?”

“I don't know, but if they don't it's not your fault. You've already taken on too much.”

“I was about to say the same thing to you,” said Alyssa, smiling at her friend. Zannah said nothing, but in her silence Alyssa heard many questions. The Morrin was good at burying her emotions and keeping her mouth shut, even when she burned to ask a question. She would rather say nothing and wait to see if the answers came out by themselves. She never asked for anything for herself, as if that were a shameful thing.

“Tell me about your life, before the war,” said Alyssa.

“There's little to tell.”

“That's not true. Who were you? What did you do?”

“I was a soldier, like now. Only back then I followed orders.” Zannah said it
matter
-
of
-
factly
, as if what she had done by disobeying those orders was nothing. As if it hadn't cost her everything. Her people. Her country. Her family.

“I'm not who I used to be,” said Alyssa. “Although there are moments when I remember.”

“I've not guessed in a while,” admitted Zannah. They'd had little time for their game lately. “I'm not certain I will ever get it right.”

“I'll tell you one day,” said Alyssa, gesturing towards the stream. The water had slowed with the cold and there were drifting patches of thin ice, but it hadn't frozen solid. Alyssa sat down beside the stream, observing how the weak sunlight created a kaleidoscope of colours as it passed through the ice. When she realised they weren't going to walk any further Zannah sat down but she looked uncomfortable. It was a long time since she'd nothing to do or anyone to protect. The only thing to do here was talk and she usually avoided that if possible.

“You never asked me about the lake,” said Alyssa.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You saw something terrifying. You survived and returned safe. That's all that matters.”

“No, it's not,” said Alyssa, shaking her head. What she'd seen mattered, although she tried to avoid thinking about it as much as possible. What was more important was what the experience had done to her.

“Do you know why I went to the lake?” The best way to find out what Zannah was thinking was to ask her direct questions.