The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress (8 page)

Brandon was sitting on the porch, looking out at the rains. The sound was soothing and the air was warm.

"Thank you, lass," he said hoarsely, taking the mug.

"Careful or you’ll burn yourself," she cautioned.

He had a small sip. "It’s good. Aren’t you going to have some yourself?"

"No, Uncle, I’m fine. I had a few cups of wine with Amber, a friend from the Academy," she lied.

"That’s good," he said. "Make sure you don’t drink too much. A lady never lets too much wine go to her head." He broke off, coughing.

"Yes, Uncle."

Ella missed Miro terribly. It didn’t help that Amber kept bringing his name up, talking about him incessantly. He’d been gone for over a month. Didn’t Amber have anything better to talk about? Every time they studied together she’d ask Ella new questions about him.

Thinking about her studies made Ella frown. Over a year at the Academy and she still had to learn anything meaningful about enchantment. Amber told her she was being impatient; they were certainly learning, but Ella’s dreams of glowing swords and shimmering robes had yet to be realised.

"Is Miro still at the Pens?" Brandon said.

Ella sighed. "Miro’s on his way to Tingara, Uncle. He’s part of our delegation to the Imperial Chorum."

"The Emperor," Brandon growled. "Skylord scratch his name from the heavens."

"Uncle!"

Brandon said nothing more, gazing without seeing at the rain. Ella had rarely seen him in this mood.

"Uncle?" she ventured.

"Hmpf?"

"I need to ask you about something. I once heard the boys at the Pens saying some horrible things to Miro."

"It’s nothing the boy can’t handle, lass. He’s tough, that one. The Pens can be hard though, I have to say. I trained there briefly. Got into my own share of trouble, I did."

"The boys at the Pens said some things about my parents. I need to know. What really happened to them?"

"Hmpf."

For a long time he didn’t respond. They both sat in silence.

"Better not to talk about these things, girl. Is there any more of that cherl about? How about we both have a mug and talk about what we’re going to do about this leaking roof."

"We fixed the roof last spring. Tell me. I don’t think even Miro knows. Tell me about my parents."

He sighed. "It’s not a happy tale. Another time, Ella."

"Please." Ella held her breath.

Brandon put down his mug. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

"Your parents were good people, Ella. Your father, he was a soldier. Well-born and educated, trained as an officer, but a soldier nonetheless." He wet his lips. "Your mother was the daughter of a minor lord. Your father was fifteen years her senior, but they were married, and you and Miro were the result."

Ella held her breath, willing Brandon to continue. He paused again for a long moment. His eyes were half-shut, and she thought he may have fallen asleep, but he suddenly opened them again.

"I fought with your father, nearly twenty years ago — not long after you were born. I was his sergeant, in the war they now call the Western Rebellion. We just called it the war.

"It started when the Halrana High Lord, Peragion Telmarran, gave his daughter to the Emperor in marriage. Xenovere had a reputation for dark deeds — still does — but Peragion was eager to curry favour with the Emperor and see Halaran grow under his reign.

"Our last Emperor, Xenovere IV, was a man of peace, dedicated to preserving the balance of the houses under a fair essence agreement. Xenovere V is different. He is a ruthless, cruel man.

"A year after the marriage, High Lord Peragion stopped receiving word from his daughter. When he enquired about her, the Emperor initially lied to him. The truth was that he had beaten her in a sudden rage. She died."

Ella put her hand to her mouth. "That’s horrible."

Brandon shrugged. "The truth came out. Peragion couldn’t forgive himself. Our High Lord, Serosa, answered our ally’s call and we went to war against the Emperor."

"What happened to my father? What about my mother?" Ella tried to conjure an image but there was nothing. She felt remote from it, like she was hearing about someone in a history class.

Brandon took another sip of cherl and swallowed before continuing. "The war was long and bitter, and Serosa and Peragion would never have surrendered. But back in Sarostar a lord named Tessolar had managed to convince the other lords the war was futile, and it was better to surrender sooner while we still had some strength.

"Serosa was betrayed by Tessolar, and both he and Peragion were captured. Tessolar made himself High Lord of Altura and immediately initiated peace talks. The Emperor demanded a group of Alturan and Halrana officers as a bond before negotiations could begin."

Ella felt a shiver run up her spine. She almost wanted him to stop.

"The officers were captured at Mornhaven, in eastern Halaran; part of the negotiations. Your father was one of them. Your mother heard about your father and she came to try to free him. She was unable to. I won’t tell you what happened, but he was killed by the Emperor’s executioner, Moragon, along with many other brave men. Tessolar still proceeded with negotiations. Your mother… she became ill. She died of grief."

"Was I there?" Ella said in a small voice.

"Yes, my dear, you were there. You were just a baby. Miro was a tiny boy. I’m sorry, my little one; it was so hard on the both of you; Miro especially. He still has those nightmares."

"He’s in pain. I can see it in him."

"So can I, lass. So can I."

The intensity of the rain grew. Puddles grew into pools. Ripples collided into each other with each drop that fell.

"You were a sergeant?" Ella couldn’t picture the aged figure before her holding a sword or facing armies in battle.

Brandon smiled. "An old sergeant, even then. Hard to picture? Brandon Goodwin was my name. Old Brandon, they call me now." He sighed, and Ella could hear the rattling in his chest.

"The way they say it now the Rebellion was a lost cause. Tessolar came to power amid growing fear of the outcome of the war and worry about the Emperor’s retribution if we lost. Tessolar helped to end it quickly, and now they praise him for a peace-maker."

Brandon coughed, and when he resumed his voice was hoarse. "That’s not how I remember it. Not at all. We were so close to having all of the houses united against the Emperor. So close! Serosa kept saying that all we needed was one decisive battle. And it all came to nothing. The Emperor punished us, killed our soldiers, rationed our essence, and now Altura is a shadow of her former self."

Brandon’s mind was obviously living those days, nearly twenty years ago. His lips smacked on dry gums and he fell silent. Fearing he’d fallen asleep, Ella rose and used what was left of the hot water and the last teaspoon of cherl to make a mug, taking it quickly over.

"Here, Uncle. Please, tell me more about my mother?"

Brandon took a slow sip, sighing in pleasure. "She was a beautiful woman, like you, my child. Her hair was darker but just as long. She was clever and resourceful, and you probably get your intelligence from her."

Ella tried to picture her. She closed her eyes. There was a fragment at the edge of her memory. Then it passed.

Brandon’s head fell down. Ella thought for a moment that he may have fallen asleep, until she saw a tear trickling down his cheek.

"I don’t know if I can blame Tessolar. War is a terrible thing, girl, and no one in living memory had seen a war to rival this one, a major war of the houses. It was just minor disputes before, with the imperial legion sorting matters out, and the Primate of the Assembly of Templars mediating a peaceful solution."

Thunder boomed out. Ella shivered.

"No, war on this scale was devastating. Plains flooded. Peasants dying in their tens of thousands. Famine and disease running wild. Dead bodies bloating in the sun, left unburied. Whole divisions consumed by the worst weapons our lore could devise.

"I once came across a town, a small village really, on the edge of Torakon. A builders’ village, the locals only interested in getting their license to build. There were tall cathedrals devoted to the Lord of the Earth, impossibly high, their lore allowing them to build taller than you or I would think possible.

"A brigade of elementalists had been routed. Though Torakon was their ally, they had passed through this town before us."

Brandon paused, and tilted his mug at his mouth, but it was empty.

"They had played with the townsfolk, Ella. Tortured them. At first we thought it had been to find the essence, but that was when we found the children."

Ella wished he would stop.

"Scores of children. They are mad in the head, those Petryans. They used the elements on them. I saw a girl, she couldn’t have been older than five, taken by elemental water — drowned on land. Another child had been filled with elemental air like a balloon until he exploded into tiny pieces. His head stayed intact. Another child had been burnt to a pile of ash. Such a tiny pile."

Ella thought she would be sick. "Please, Uncle. Please, don’t tell me these things. I just want to know who killed my parents."

"Your parents were killed by the Emperor, girl." Brandon gestured around, at the weak light cast by the nightlamp. "And here we are. We’ve been on essence rationing ever since. Now the Emperor’s called a Chorum, and who knows what evil we can expect next."

~

E
LLA
entered the small house, closing the thin door behind her. Brandon still sat on the wooden porch; he had asked her to leave him there, alone in the darkness.

She leaned heavily against the wall and slid slowly down until she rested on the floor, her head on her knees.

Her mind was in turmoil, thoughts running back and forth in her head. On the one hand she felt guilty for dredging up such painful memories; on the other she felt angry with Brandon for holding so much back for so long.

It was a comfort to know that her father had been a man of honour; a man who had fought for a cause. Brandon hadn’t said, but she sensed that her mother had loved her father, and that she had been loved in return.

Who knew what would have happened if High Lord Serosa had never been betrayed by Tessolar; if Serosa had forced his decisive battle? Perhaps the other houses would have joined them in rebellion against the Emperor, and she would now be laughing with her parents, Brandon promoted to some comfortable position.

It was pointless to worry about what could have been.

Ella’s thoughts turned to Miro. She didn’t know how she was going to do it, but she would force a confrontation between him and Brandon. He needed to hear what she had just heard for himself.

Poor Miro! He thought his parents had some guilty secret and didn’t have the courage to ask and find out the truth.

Sitting against the wall, emotionally exhausted, Ella began to slip into sleep, thinking about her parents, about the past.

In that stage between wakefulness and sleep, Ella’s memory cleared for the briefest instant. She felt the soft touch of her mother, heard a gentle lullaby.

~

E
LLA
woke from horrible dreams. Men with faces of fire were throwing children about Sarostar. The Sarsen in her dream had been replaced with a river of molten rock, the fiery lava overflowing the banks and burning its way through the town, buildings and people exploding in its wake; sounds of screaming.

The rain had stopped some time in the last few hours. She had fallen asleep leaning against the wall. Her back ached from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. She stood and it made a sound like a cracking whip.

Stretching, she looked about. She had forgotten to deactivate the nightlamp and if anything it looked fainter than ever.

Ella went to the door and peered through the window. She could see Brandon still sitting motionless in his wooden chair, the empty mug of cherl beside him.

"Uncle Brandon," she muttered, opening the door.

She turned to shake him awake. There was something strange about his body, about the stillness of his form.

"Uncle Brandon?" Ella shook him, first gently, then with insistence. "Uncle Brandon!"

The old man stayed seated, motionless.

Brandon Goodwin, soldier of Altura, who had fought his way from one end of the Azure Plains to the other, was dead.

The rain started again.

Ella’s sobs were inaudible above its patter.

6

What’s in a boneman?

What’s in a drudge?

Pretty little pictures

Made with love

— Halrana nursery rhyme

T
HE
trader ship yawed in the strong wind, thrusting her great weight over the crests before plunging again into the troughs.

High above the decks, in the area the traders called the crow’s nest, Miro gazed out at the sea, enjoying the thrill of the ship listing first one way and then another. Here at the very top of the mast any movement was exaggerated. Miro felt like a bird caught in an unpredictable air current, tossed back and forth in the stiff ocean breeze.

She was what the traders called a storm rider — an armed cruiser, with a long range and enough firepower to hold her own against most enemies. Her name was the
Infinity
.

Two months ago, Miro could never have imagined life aboard the trader ship. It was like a complete community on the water, more than a house, something like a moving fortress.

Nearly every square inch of her was covered with runes, the structures among the most complex Miro had ever seen, particularly on the sails. They buzzed and glowed as they were activated by the Sailmaster, an imposing man named Scherlic. His calls as he activated and deactivated the runes were heard night and day, his voice had become so familiar on the journey that Miro no longer even noticed it.

So much had changed in the last two months. Miro almost felt like a different person — with the Pens, Sarostar, Brandon and Ella part of another life. He had now seen High Lord Tessolar in the flesh, along with several other members of the Alturan elite. It seemed everyone who was a name in Altura was a part of this delegation.