The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy (30 page)

“Aran?”

Turning around
he saw Alissa’s hesitant figure at the entrance.

Aran was not
sure who moved first, but within heartbeats Alissa was in his arms,
and he had his face buried in her fragrant hair.

“I heard,” was
all she could say.

Aran held her
tightly, trying to assuage the terrible pain he was feeling.

“I blame the
mages,” he said at last, brokenly. “They were supposed to have
Healed him.”

Alissa shook
her head, “I spoke to father. He asked the Guards what had happened
and it seemed to him that it was a new condition. The food
poisoning was not the cause.”

Aran moved
back and studied her face, “Are you certain of this? That he is not
trying to protect the mages from my anger by his words.”

Alissa shook
her head again, “No, from what I heard Alem was recovering well, he
sickened and died from something else.”

Aran frowned
at that then remembered the illness of the sailor on the trip to
the Keep.

“There may be
truth in that,” he said finally. “There would have been a similar
death on the Falcon, Glaive’s trading vessel,” he added, “Had it
not been for Trevan’s quick work.” Aran’s anger was dying, replaced
by the shadow of guilt.

“Then I must
blame myself for his death. I should never have asked him to come
on this campaign, to leave Haulgard when he was obviously so
sick.”

Alissa seized
his hands, “Do not speak so Aran. You were not to know. All you
knew was that Alem was recovering well and needed only to be quiet
and travel slowly. In travelling with the wagons this would have
been done…” she hugged him again. “Each man must at the end go into
the final darkness. You cannot say that Alem was not taken by the
Goddess at his right and proper time.”

Aran sighed
and drew away, “That may well be. However the cause, whatever the
reason, I feel as though Alem’s death is like an ill omen of things
to come.”

Alissa flared
her own temper now high at his words. “Don’t be crazy Aran! If
lesser, unintelligent men would read portents into such a tragedy,
let them…” She straightened and steel came into her voice, “The
loss of one man to illness is unfortunate, but to let it affect
others with talk of ill-omens and portents would imperil the
campaign, and undermine the rightness of our cause. You most of all
must show others that although you grieve for Alem, his death does
not turn you from your course or purpose.”

Aran paused
mid-step. Her words stopped him completely.

“As always
Alissa you see the right in things,” he said finally, dully.
“Forgive me. It was my anger and grief speaking.”

Alissa smiled
and took her betrothed into her arms, “The world can be terrible at
times my love. If I must be your strength and rock during those
times, then so be it, do not begrudge me for I see it as part
repayment for your own love and strength to me.”

Aran smiled
sadly, “Lately Alissa you seem always to be my strength.”

Alissa laughed
at that, “Unlike you, I am not yet required to carry the
responsibility of the province upon my shoulders. Until that duty
is asked of me, let me at least offer you the strength of my arm
upon which you may lean.”

Aran nodded,
his grief lifting a little at her words, “I will accept your offer,
beloved.”

Then he paused
and shook his head, “You must think me twice a fool, for yet again
I have completely forgotten to ask your father about changing your
sleeping arrangements.”

Alissa smiled
fondly, “Let it be, I guess that there will be still more lengthy
war councils here this night and the following.”

Aran nodded,
“Unfortunately that is the case. We still have much to arrange and
plan.”

“Then let your
lady love sleep undisturbed in her father’s tent,” Alissa replied.
“For it is certain that there will be no sleep for me if I have to
listen to the interminable ramblings of a tent full of soldiers
planning a war,” she added ironically.

Aran’s laugh
may have been a little forced but he felt a lightening of the
spirits, “Then think of me in your dreams Alissa,” he chuckled,
“For I am the unfortunate one who has to listen and try to give
advice to that rambling crowd.”

*

The night had
grown long advanced before the Guard and Legion Commanders were
satisfied with what they had arranged.

“So it all
relies now upon the participation of the plainsmen,” growled
Captain Taran, his eyes scanning yet again the leather map which
marked their future route. “I would give a year’s pay to learn what
their plans are to be?”

“You and I
both, Captain,” rumbled Commander Terdec leaning back in some
relief, stretching after sitting for so long hunched over the map.
“It irritates me that they have sent no word in all this time.”

“Then we must
continue on as if we do not have their support,” Darven said at
last.

“I agree,”
Aran stood and stretched too, his bones audibly cracking after the
hours of sitting in one position. “For each day of our inactivity
allows the enemy to steal another day’s advance upon us.”

“If we wish to
take the battle to them, to choose the location of the war, then we
must be gone at the very latest the morning of the day after
tomorrow,” Terdec replied. “Any later and the cavalry will be hard
pressed indeed to meet the timeline.”

Aran sat down
again and his eyes met Camp Commander Sennar, “Are we absolutely
certain that the southern garrisons will be here by morning?”

The older
officer nodded, “Aye lord. They sent an advance rider ahead of the
main force. He arrived late this afternoon. They will be certainly
here by midmorning tomorrow.”

“Good,”
Captain Taran commented, “Then if we are done here I would like to
go to my bed.”

Aran put up a
hand to gather silence and attention.

“The Guard,
Legion and fyrd planning is certainly as complete as we can make
it.”

His eyes
scanned the room and came to rest on the quiet group comprising the
Archmage and the High Mages from Glaive.

“However I
would like to hear from our brothers of Glaive. They have not yet
indicated what their participation will be.” Aran paused and went
on, “I have read my history and know that Warleader Andur’s armies
were primarily responsible for the freeing of the Province. However
I am aware the mages did use their powers to destroy the Serat
garrison at Seawatch Keep. I would now know how this generation of
mages will aid Andur’s descendant, and the army he commands.”

Listening to
Aran’s words the gathering of soldiers and officers in the tent
moved uncomfortably upon their stools—waiting nervously to hear how
the Archmage and his contingent responded to such a peremptory
command.

The Archmage
looked up and met the frosty grey eyes of the young king. At that
moment, he knew finally and inexplicably that the young and
innocent youth he had known so briefly was forever gone. In his
place now was a darker and harder man. In his place was a king full
in his blood and glory, a king that would accept only utter and
absolute truth and loyalty. Maran thought suddenly of his father,
the uncompromising Warleader Andur, and sighing, composed himself
to speak.

“Glaive will
aid the army,” he said simply, “Just as the ancient mages aided
Warleader Andur in the Great Uprising, so shall we lend our powers
to this new cause.” He looked up and surveyed the anxious faces
about him, “However we at Glaive do not as a rule use our Goddess
given mage Abilities to initiate war and destruction. The
Earthpowers that shape our Abilities have certain rules which
cannot be overcome or gainsaid. The Abilities of Earthmage,
Weathermage and Healermage must always stay within the bounds of
the natural laws…to do otherwise would bring a heavy reckoning from
the Goddess.”

Aran stared
hard at Maran, “If Glaive has limitations Archmage, please tell us
now.”

Maran nodded
absently to himself, “Even though I stress that the mages are bound
within the natural laws, we still have some leeway granted to us.
At Glaive, we teach that although we are bound to the natural laws,
we sometimes do have the license to move beyond it…” he looked up,
and to those listening, he sounded as if he was relating a well
known lecture. “We teach that it is possible to take advantage of
the imagination of the natural laws.”

There was
subdued comment from the gathered commanders at that.

“Although this
is neither the time, nor the forum to explain fully the first
lessons of magecraft,” Maran continued after the low talk had died
away. “You will each need to understand that the mages are limited
by rules and laws, and though at times we can go beyond ‘into the
imagination of the laws’, such spells and powers come at great cost
to the mages casting them.”

He paused, as
if weighing his words.

“Back in
history the high spells were used frequently, and the mages who
cast them were strengthened after each use. Instead of the power
draining them, they were in fact refilled with magepower greater
than what they had known before. This explains the great exploits
of early Glaive. The proof of their labour is attested to by the
very existence of Andur’s Keep, and Glaive College itself.”

He glanced
back at the other mages, as if seeking support. “Until recently
such powers were inexplicable to the modern mages of Glaive. Until
recently, there were unseen and unknown barriers preventing us from
attempting to cast the high spells. Until recently Glaive could not
have hoped to aid this army.”

“And now?”
Aran voiced the unspoken question of all present.

“And now…” the
Archmage echoed Aran’s words. “We are limited still, but we come
closer to understanding how far indeed we can range within the
imagination of the natural laws.”

“The Earthmage
transformations are proof of what can be achieved, whilst moving
still within the imagination of the laws,” said Mage Drayden from
the back of the group. “Only a few years ago such transformations
would have been impossible, nay incredible, spoken of only as an
exploit of the early days of Glaive.”

Maran glanced
back at the High Earthmage and nodded, “That is true.”

“This I
understand, my own Abilities as Warriormage and Metalmage both are
proof of the rising magepower,” interrupted Aran impatient with the
verbal dance. “But what tangible support can Glaive offer this army
here and now.”

Maran’s face
tightened, “If I may continue, lord king?”

Aran nodded,
his own hard grey eyes a mirror of the Archmages’. Imperceptibly he
felt Darven’s hand on his shoulder, calming him.

The Archmage’s
eyes flickered across the Guard and Legion Commanders.

They too
flinched visibly at his touch. Finally he spoke.

“The truths we
understand are these. The magepower is again rising, the old
boundaries are being tested and pushed back, and finally we are at
last beginning to understand, and explore the imagination of the
natural laws.”

He paused as
if to garner emphasis for his words.

“Unfortunately
however, the reality is that no mage on Glaive has the strength yet
to employ the ancient powerful spells. If one or even a group was
to try, then their existence would be snuffed out as surely and as
casually as we would extinguish the small light of a candle.”

“So what can
Glaive do for us, Lord Archmage?” asked Commander Senner
nervously.

Maran smiled
grimly at the soldier, “Reconnaissance Commander, using the
transformed Earthmages; field hospitals employing the Healermages;
protective and perhaps hindering fogs initiated by the
Weathermages, and perhaps other higher spells if the strength is
there, and the natural laws are favourable to employ them.”

“What higher
spells, Archmage?” Aran asked his anger again leashed.

Maran looked
up, and met the eyes of his young king and descendant.

“It is within
our power to unleash earthquakes to tear the very ground from
beneath the enemy’s feet. To gather storms about their heads with
lightning bolts directed to burn them where they stand. Savage
killing beasts from the deep forests stampeded into their ranks.
Diseases and growths nurtured within their bodies so they die
painful and agonising deaths on the field…”

He looked up
and the soldiers quailed at the bleakness plainly written in the
Archmage’s eyes, “Do you wish to hear more High King Arantur?”

Aran shook his
head, shocked indeed that such horrors could be created within the
imagination of the natural laws.

“All this
comes at a great price to the mages of Glaive,” Maran continued.
“For most of the campaign we must rely on the natural strength and
training of our soldiers. The mages of Glaive must only be used
sparingly and at times which will cause the greatest hurt upon our
enemy.” He glanced across at Aran, “To use them sooner, or for
lesser purpose, will drain them entirely of the magepower and leave
them useless for the great battles that follow, battles for which
their Abilities and spells will have the most use.”

“We will leave
the mages to your direction, Archmage,” replied Captain Taran. “A
good Commander knows the strengths of his men, and will not overuse
them, or ask from them what they cannot give.”

The other
Legion Commanders nodded at that.

Aran frowned,
“Metalcrafters learn that iron, although inherently strong, is
brittle and will eventually break. To strengthen iron we heat it,
hammer it, and take it many times through the three ordeals of
fire, hammer and water. This eventually transmutes it into steel.
Perhaps to strengthen mages, a similar discipline ought to be
followed. No soldier would willingly take an iron sword into battle
it would be heavy and shatter upon impact. A steel sword is
flexible and is a fine strong weapon.”