At the front of the room sat the seven members of the Inner Circle in their finest dress robes encrusted with protective wards crafted from thread of gold: Krandus in pure white with his ridiculously handsome face and perfect blonde hair. Git. Cillian in silken blue and Old Gerthan in plain brown joined by… joined… I winced as my thoughts scattered around damaged sections of my memory. I had to work through it, trying to link faces to names via different mental routes. Stern-faced long-bearded man in green – Wyman? Crimson-robed woman – Merwyn? Yes, I was almost sure I had those two correct. The other two I had no idea about; though I knew what they were I couldn’t retain who they were. I grimaced, but some damage is to be expected when you are forced to burn out part of your brain.
Krandus waited a few moments until the last bleary-eyed stragglers arrived, then launched into a series of updates on reconstruction of the city. I yawned and sat back, mind drifting off as he went through the tedious minutia of city administration. The prominent emotion throughout the room was boredom, and it had been a long night devoid of sleep for me. My eyes drifted ever lower. I rested them, just for a few moments…
A spike of danger woke me. “…accepted a request for aid from the Clanholds.” I blinked and sat up, rubbing my eyes. What was that? The mood of the room was deadly serious and deeply worried. Shite. What had I missed?
“We cannot afford to allow the Skallgrim and their daemons passage through the mountain passes of the Clanholds. It is an open door to the undefended heartlands of Kaladon. As such, Setharis has agreed to send seven coteries to delay the enemy forces advancing westwards from Ironport. The Free Towns Alliance has also pledged to raise an army to aid this effort. The rest of us will march on Ironport from the south leaving only a skeleton force behind to guard Setharis until our legions return from the colonies. The Skallgrim will undoubtedly strive to reinforce their only foothold on the shores of Kaladon before our legions can return so it is imperative that we crush them before that happens. When their wolf-ships make the hazardous voyage across the Sea of Storms they will find us ready and waiting. They will find no safe anchorage on our shores.”
Krandus took a deep breath. “The Arcanum will now ask for volunteers to defend the Clanholds.” Many arses stirred on seats, ready to stand, eager for some payback. Mine was firmly planted on wood. It was still deep winter up north, and it was a death sentence to battle Skallgrim madmen and a Clanholds winter at the same time. I also had my own problems with the Clansfolk to consider. Krandus continued, “However, the Clanholds have requested that one specific magus leads this expeditionary force, and the Inner Circle has acceded.”
Cillian’s eyes sought me out. By the Night Bitch, don’t you dare! Krandus pointed straight at me. His gesture stabbed me in the pit of my stomach and pushed it down into a black abyss. “Magus Edrin Walker will lead this force.” Arses thumped back down on seats with enough force to rattle the benches. I started to sweat as disgusted faces turned to glare at me. “Do we have any volunteers to join him?”
Silence.
Ah, it was nice to feel so loved. Or feared; there was always that more enjoyable option. I was quite literally the stuff of childhood nightmares. A big bad tyrant come to enslave them all. I regained my composure and met their gazes. They quickly turned away. Slimy cowards the lot of them.
A hooded figure stood. The magus was dressed all in black, and wore plain trousers, shirt and cloak rather than traditional robes. I thought them a woman from the hips and body shape, but broad shoulders cast some doubt on that. They glanced back at me, and whoever it was wore a plain steel facemask beneath a deep hood to hide their scars. How vain; you didn’t see me hiding mine. The magus said nothing.
Krandus smiled, dazzling us all. Slimy git. “A knight. Excellent. Your strength will be sorely needed in the mountains. Do we have any others?”
A man sporting a bushy red beard stood: Cormac of House Feredaig if my faulty memory was correct, and a skilled geomancer. “I’ll stand.” His tongue held a mere hint of Clanholds accent, long submerged beneath the Setharii. “I have kin in the holdfasts and you’ll need one of my sort in the mountains.”
Krandus inclined his head, then waited again, his eyes sweeping the benches.
A slender young woman I didn’t know, wearing unusual black and white hooded robes, rose to join Cormac.
Krandus smiled and nodded. “An illusionist will prove most useful in warfare.”
Nobody else stood with us. I wasn’t surprised in the least – who would want to head off with the likes of me to die on frozen hills protecting heathens. They would much rather take their chances with the Archmagus and the rest of the Arcanum. We would be outnumbered and facing the worst magics and daemons that their accursed halrúna shaman could summon up, but it was me they feared and distrusted the most. Gods, even I had no intention of going if I could weasel my way out of this midden of a situation.
Krandus sighed and shook his head. “We are disappointed. The Inner Circle will deliberate and appoint three of you to join them. For the rest of you, report to your coteries if you have existing assignments. If not, you will each be assigned ten wardens to serve you later this evening. This conclave is now broken, be about your work.”
I sat and ground my teeth as the other magi filtered from the auditorium. It took all my self-control to hold myself back from storming down and demanding answers or telling them to fuck off and find some other pitiful sacrifice. This was just another attempt to get rid of the vile tyrant in their midst and I wasn’t about to die for them, or for anybody. Burn them! I’d suffered more than enough for our oh-so-precious Arcanum. If they thought they could compel me to go then they would be in for a very nasty shock.
Cormac exchanged a few words with the Inner Circle and then left without so much as a glance in my direction. The magus in black turned to regard me and her single green eye glinted behind the steel mask, the left likely lost during the conflict. Great, I was landed with a crippled knight. I was no great weapons master, but even I knew enough to realise that her depth perception was scuppered. Why had she even stood? Just as well I had no intention of going.
That eye scrutinised me with such intensity I almost felt violated. I itched to open my Gift and find out why, but unless in self-defence I was strictly banned from using my power on another magus without permission from a councillor, and somehow I didn’t think my writ would hold much water here in the Collegiate itself. The knight lifted a gloved fist to her face and then slashed it downwards. It took me a moment to realise it was a salute – her sword was mine to command.
I nodded gravely in acknowledgement. Whoever she was, she deserved that much. The magus in black turned on her heel and stalked from the auditorium, leaving me alone with the seven members of the Inner Circle. They expected me to come to them. I let them keep on expecting, ignoring furious glares from Cillian in favour of picking at a hangnail.
“Magus Edrin Walker,” Krandus said, his voice like gravel. “Would you be so kind as to join us.”
I took my time about standing up, stretching my arms back and yawning. They were forced to wait on me as I ambled towards them. Who said petty acts of spite are overrated? Cillian’s eyes burned into me, warning me to bite my tongue. I honestly considered it. It would be the sensible thing to do. But when had I ever been accused of an abundance of that commodity? I was too angry to care what any of them thought.
I looked Krandus in the eye and sneered. “How stupid do you think I am? This is just another way of getting rid of me.”