He took her in his arms and gently nibbled her ear. ‘All right. But let’s do it later, shall we?’
Their lips met.
In one of the Diamond Isle’s remotest parts, at its eastern tip, sheer cliffs acted as a natural barrier to assault from the sea. At the cliffs’ top, on a stretch of grassland, there stood an assembly of chalets, a relic of the island’s days as a pleasure resort. It was here that the handful of Covenant sorcerers who had escaped Bhealfa chose to congregate, alongside the few wizards already in residence. A centre for retreat and meditation, the spot was universally respected as the island’s only private place.
The cabins were dilapidated, and around them the snow had been trodden to slush. A small stand of trees acted as a windbreak, but in their wintry, denuded state the protection was minimal. Overall, the impression was cheerless.
One hut stood well apart from the rest. The snow surrounding it was near pristine, bearing only a few sets of footprints, and all its windows were shuttered.
Inside, Kutch Pirathon was finishing a study session with his surrogate mentor, who this day had eschewed a magical disguise. He appeared as he was; elderly, white-haired and furrow-faced.
‘And you’re sure you haven’t experienced any of Reeth Caldason’s visions lately?’ Phoenix asked.
‘No,’ Kutch repeated, irritated at the old man’s persistence. He slammed shut the hinged book he’d been perusing. ‘And I don’t lie about these things. That was something my master always insisted on.’
‘Then he taught you well. Don’t be offended, boy. I’m pressing you only because it’s important.’
‘As I said, we stopped sharing visions a couple of months ago.’
‘When you gave up spotting.’
‘Yes.’
‘And dreams? What about those?’
Kutch looked reticent. ‘Well…’
‘What was it your master always insisted on?’
The youth sighed. ‘Occasionally, in dreams…yes, there’s a connection. But not often, and nowhere near as powerful as the visions I used to get. It’s not a problem, but…I thought stopping my training as a spotter would free me.’
‘Well, it seems it mostly has, as you say yourself. But I suspect some link between you and Caldason will go on as long as you practice magic of any kind.’
‘Oh.’ He was deflated. ‘That’s a depressing thought.’
‘Because you think that means you’re forced to make a choice? Between your friendship with Caldason and your devotion to magic?’
Kutch looked up hopefully. ‘Doesn’t it?’
‘I think you’re misunderstanding me. The link will go on if you continue with magic, though it may be possible for us to dampen its effect on you. But nothing you do, including abandoning the craft, will make any difference to Caldason, if that’s what you were hoping. His entanglement with magic is beyond any action you take.’
‘But that seems so unfair. Reeth hates magic.’
‘I hate rain, but that doesn’t stop me getting wet.’ He added more soberly, ‘Use your common sense, boy. Caldason’s feelings in the matter are of no more account than a condemned man’s opinion of the rope he’s hanged with.’
‘Can’t you do anything for him?’
‘Our efforts have proved futile. Now his hopes reside in the Source, assuming he can find it, and if what’s left of Covenant can decipher it. Neither of which will be easy.’
‘Then we have to do all we can to help him find it.’
‘Indeed. Because if he fails, only one other way of breaking his bonds remains.’
‘What’s that?’
‘His death.’ Phoenix gazed steadily at Kutch.
‘But he can’t be killed.’
‘You know that’s not true. His condition is one approaching immortality, not immortality itself. Ending his life would be difficult, but not impossible.’
‘You aren’t making me feel very happy about this, master.’
‘It’s not my job to ensure your happiness. But your survival does concern me. Which is why I needed to know the extent of your connection with Caldason’s visions.’
‘My survival? How could a glimpse of Reeth’s visions possibly-’
‘Are you ignorant of the potential destructive power of magic, despite all your studies? Caldason’s harnessed to some aspect of the potent art even we don’t understand. Remember what I told you about my Covenant brothers who were killed examining an exposed energy channel? This business with Caldason could prove just as fatal for you.’
‘We’re all going to die in this place anyway,’ Kutch muttered.
‘Perhaps.’
‘So wouldn’t it be better to be doing something about that, rather than-’
‘There’s nothing we can do, beyond aiding our defences as best we can. I suppose I could try to have you smuggled off the island. It might work.’
‘No. I…I’d prefer to take my chances here, with the people I know.’
A slight smile creased Phoenix’s ancient lips. ‘If that’s what you want. But the point I’m trying to make is that neglecting your studies doesn’t help Caldason, and it certainly doesn’t help you. It’s a shame you had to abandon spotting, given how rare a gift it is. That apart, you have a talent for the craft, and you’re bright enough to achieve full sorcerer status, if you work at it. Don’t throw that away.’
The boy brightened. ‘You really think so?’
‘I’m not given to empty flattery.’
‘I’m so pleased to hear you say that. There have been times lately when I’ve kind of wished I’d followed the path Varee took.’
‘Varee?’
‘My brother. He left to join the army when I was a kid.’
‘Ah, yes. Well, I’m glad you didn’t. It would have been a loss to the Craft.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And would have greatly disappointed your master, I don’t doubt.’
‘Yes, I think Domex would have been upset. But I’m pleased you’ve got confidence in me, Phoenix. It means a lot to me that you’d-’
‘Ssshh.’
‘What?’ Kutch whispered.
‘Someone approaches,’ the wizard replied in an undertone.
‘I don’t hear any-’
Phoenix waved a hand, silencing him. Kutch strained to listen. He heard nothing at first, and doubted the sorcerer’s senses. Then he wondered at them. Very faintly, the sound of horses’ hooves could be heard. As they grew louder, the wizard moved to a window and peered through a crack in the shutter.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ he said. ‘It’s friends.’
He went to the door and opened it, Kutch at his side. A blast of cold air slapped their faces.
Two riders were approaching, travelling fast, urging their mounts on with cuffs from the reins. One was Caldason, bent low into the cutting wind, cloak billowing. Serrah rode alongside, barley hair flowing free.
They arrived in seconds, their steaming horses kicking up clods of frozen earth as they were curbed. Caldason and Serrah quickly dismounted.
‘Reeth, Serrah,’ Kutch greeted them. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Well, we set out to talk something over with you,’ Serrah told him. ‘But events seem to have overshadowed that.’
‘What are you referring to?’ Phoenix asked, less than amused by the interruption.
‘Come and see for yourself,’ Caldason said.
They donned cloaks and followed him. He led them away from the cluster of huts and to the cliff’s edge.
‘There.’ He pointed out to sea. Two ships were nearing the island, their purple sails swelling.
‘Another attack!’ Kutch exclaimed.
The pirate galleons hoisted black flags and began a tack for a less daunting shore of the island.
Serrah let out a weary breath. ‘Here we go again.’
11
A small battle raged across a myriad droplets of quicksilver.
Each shimmering bead reflected its own fragment of the event. They showed mobs sweeping through ruined streets, throwing stones, fighting, commiting arson. There were hordes of civilians clashing with uniformed, baton-wielding men at barricades. Magical discharges flashed like searing lances, setting people ablaze.
The pewter gobbets coalesced, mingled, became a shiny liquid. Then the fragmentation occurred again, and other, similar events unfolded. Gutted buildings, rampaging crowds, looting, cavalry charges and arrests. Repeatedly the fluid turned through its cycle, flowing, reforming, displaying scenes of civil disorder. Bodies littering city squares, prisoners herded into carts at sword-point, and roadside executions.