Elfsorrow

'Oh well, only one way to find out.'

'Sir?'

'Nothing, lad. Just hang on, and keep your legs up as much as you can. This is going to be interesting.'

The main force of the current took them, the log gathered speed and they were dragged along in its wake, out of control and into the hands of the Gods. Yron wasn't a religious man by nature; to him religion was a matter of convenience and a support for the weak. But there are some times when you are so small and helpless that you need something to hang your life on, however briefly.

So while he watched the cliffs rush by, the water crash down from high above, and the bank they'd left begin to rise sheer as the river narrowed again and angled down, he began to pray.

He hoped the Gods, whoever they were, were listening. It was not the sort of news Blackthorne wanted. He was walking through the marketplace with Baron Gresse, talking to the fresh produce stallholders, who were seeing their profits shrink and their livelihoods threatened. He'd worked out a compensation scheme based on the prices he'd previously paid all suppliers for foodstuffs and was trying to ensure that those who sold what was grown or bred were not left high and dry. It was difficult to be fair and some felt aggrieved.

Still, it had been good having Gresse here to discuss the problems facing the country. He was into his late sixties now but had the vitality of a man two decades his junior. And with that mischievous twinkle in his eye and his disdain for the trappings of wealth, Gresse was a popular figure. He had stepped in to help his people much as Blackthorne had done.

Walking back to their horses and just about to ride out to an outlying hamlet on a cloudy and cool early afternoon, the two barons were hailed by a young squire racing through the marketplace on foot. He was barely in his teens, tall and thin as a rake and instantly recognisable. He skittered to a clumsy halt in front of them and bowed.

'My Lords, sorry to call you in such a manner.'

Blackthorne nodded. 'I take it this is an important message, young Berrin.'

'Yes, my Lord. Luke sent me personally, said you would want to know right away.'

'Well don't keep him guessing, young man,' said Gresse, a half smile on his face. 'Or me for that matter. At my age patience is in short supply.'

'Sorry, my Lord,' said Berrin, blushing bright red below his cropped brown hair. 'It's just that some of the mounted militia have intercepted a group of twenty riders heading for the town. They demand an audience with you, Baron Blackthorne.'

'Demand, eh? Who are they and where are they?' asked Blackthorne.

'Black Wings, my Lord, two miles north on the main trail. Selik is with them.'

Blackthorne cursed under his breath and swung into his saddle, his mood darkening. 'I will attend immediately. Tell Luke where I have gone.'

'Yes, my Lord.' Berrin ran off towards the castle.

'Coming, Gresse?' asked Blackthorne.

'I think I need to hear what you have to say to Selik. I wonder why he's chosen to come here. Surely he knows where you stand.'

'The man's arrogance knows no boundary,' replied Blackthorne, feeling some anxiety. Gresse was right. Selik wouldn't come unless he felt he had real weight on his side. Truth or lie, Blackthorne was worried what he might hear. He signalled to his guard of six to accompany them and put his heels to his horse's flanks.

Blackthorne rode quickly, Gresse at his side, his well armoured guards in a loose circle around him as they passed along the north trail out of the town. To the east, the skyline was dominated by the Balan Mountains but in front of them the land was flat, covered in bracken and coarse grass. It was a cool if dry day but there were clouds massing on the mountain peaks. Rain was not far away.

They could see both militia and Black Wings from over a mile away as they rounded a bend in the trail through a small area of devastated woodland. Blackthorne could see eight of his own men, who would have a mage with them, mounted and watching over the Black Wing riders who had all dismounted, leaving their horses to graze at will.

The Baron, feeling irritation at the waste of his valuable time but happy that his increased security had intercepted the Black Wings, reined in by the militia sergeant and dismounted.

'Stand off but be ready,' he said.

'Yes, my Lord.'

Blackthorne and Gresse walked the short distance to the Black Wing captain, obvious by his wrecked face, and his men. Selik did not smile as he saw them.

'Baron Blackthorne, a pleasure I'm sure. And made all the better by the presence of the famous Baron Gresse. You have saved me a further journey.' He extended a gauntleted hand which both barons ignored.

'You have nothing to say that I want to hear, so make it quick and be on your way,' said Blackthorne. 'I am a busy man.'

'I thought it only fair to visit you, Blackthorne, and offer you the hand of alliance.'

Blackthorne folded his arms and frowned. 'Against what?'

'Well, magic of course. The scourge that has brought this great country to its knees, that threatens to destroy our land and that must be stopped from regaining its dominance over the people.'

'A country that you would clearly like to see flat on its back with its eyes staring sightless at the sky,' said Blackthorne.

'No, one that I would see return to rude health without the ever-present fear of magical devastation.'

Blackthorne exchanged a quick glance with Gresse, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

'You want me, us, to ally with you to throw down the colleges, is that it?'

'It is a crusade of the righteous,' said Selik. 'You are respected men. Your presence could stop unnecessary bloodshed.'

'Respect that alliance with you would destroy in a moment,' said Gresse. 'The Gods only know what bullshit your supporters swallow, but don't treat us as fools. Your ultimate goal is the murder of every mage in Balaia. There is no unnecessary bloodshed for you, and while I have breath I will oppose you.'

Selik's eye narrowed and his expression clouded. 'The people are sick of magic. They want rid of it, they want it exterminated or controlled. And those who support it are the enemies of Balaia.'

'And these people are the same ones who wallow in filth right now while their families die of hunger and disease and the only thriving creatures are rats,' said Blackthorne.

'And all brought upon them by magic.'

'And magic will save them,' snapped Blackthorne. 'My town is free of vermin. It is free of disease. The people are fed. They can see an end. But only with the help of magic. Who will save these people should you succeed in your sick aim?'

'Healing is a natural process and cats can catch rats,' said Selik smoothly. 'Breed more cats.'

Blackthorne walked forward. He was a head taller than Selik. He looked down at the Black Wing captain and saw a brief fear in his eyes that undermined his air of confidence.

'You will not hasten an end to the college war by intervening. I want to see magic returned to balance, not exterminated. We must end this war by negotiation and strength of will. And while I am angry that there is war and disgusted at the actions taken by Xetesk and Dordover, I will not condone opportunists like you attempting to weaken the colleges to the point of collapse. Balaia must have magic.'

'The colleges have no will other than to tear each other apart and damn the consequences for this country,' said Selik, the fire back in his eyes.

'And I and the barons that are with me will pressure for peace at every stage. You well know Heryst is a force for that peace and my allegiance is with him. Meanwhile, my borders are strong and my mages are loyal to me and wish the conflict ended as fervently as I do.'

'The righteous will prevail,' said Selik.

'Yes, they will,' said Blackthorne. 'And you are not among them. This country has magic running through its veins. It is part of all of us. It makes us strong. You will never end magic, Selik, but I sincerely hope you die trying and before you consign more innocent men and women to their deaths. Now, leave my lands immediately. Any further incursion and you will be taken. Do I make myself clear?'