‘And I am Tessaya, Lord of the unified tribes. You will address me as “my Lord”.’ Kerus said nothing, merely inclined his head. Tessaya could see the fear in his eyes. He should have been put out to grass a long time ago. It was indicative of the East’s complacency that they chose a career desk-soldier to command the guard of the most important tactical landmark in the whole of Balaia.
‘I am surprised that you are the spokesman,’ said Tessaya. ‘Is your commander so fearful of us that he still orders you to hide him?’
‘Understone’s defensive general is dead, my Lord,’ said Kerus, surprise edging his tone. ‘I am the most senior officer left alive.’
Tessaya frowned. His intelligence suggested the army had surrendered long before the command post was taken. Perhaps the other rumours were true and Darrick had died leading the line but it seemed unlikely in such a critical engagement.
‘Dead?’
‘At the western end of the pass.’
‘Ah.’ Tessaya’s frown deepened. Something wasn’t right. ‘No matter.’ He would get to the bottom of it shortly. Darrick was a man whose whereabouts he needed to know. ‘Tell me, I’m curious. Was there an incursion into my lands before we retook Understone Pass?’ He knew there had to have been but an idea of numbers would be useful.
‘Why are you asking me, my Lord?’ replied Kerus.
‘Because you are the commanding officer. You are also my prisoner. I would advise against the futility of refusing me.’
‘You know as well as I do that our people penetrated your Wytch Lords’ citadel. That’s why you lost your magic.’ Kerus did his best to sneer.
‘But not this battle, eh Kerus?’ Tessaya’s face dropped to a snarl. ‘That is the second time you have failed to address me correctly. Do not make me count to three.’ He relaxed his stance enough to drink from his bottle, taking in the angry faces in front of him.
‘An impressive move. Though I must confess, I had my reservations about the strength of Parve’s defence. I’m afraid too many senior Shamen felt it a waste of good warriors. How many did you send?’
‘Not many. My Lord.’
‘How many?’
‘Four hundred cavalry, a few Protectors, a handful of mages and The Raven. My Lord.’
Tessaya took it all in, quietly assimilating the numbers and knowing that they should have been far short of enough to trouble Parve’s defence, let alone the Wytch Lords. He made exaggerated assumptions about the power of the mage contingent and still couldn’t make it add up. A nagging worry edged at his mind. He’d seen the power of the spell that had taken Understone Pass, the water magic that had obliterated so many of his kinsmen. Had they used something equally appalling or even worse to destroy the Wytch Lords?
He shuddered inside. Rumours of an attempt to recover a spell of legendary power, the spell the Shamen called ‘Tia-fere’, Nightfall, had cast doubt over the sense of the invasion three months before. But surely if the spell had been recovered, he wouldn’t be standing here.
‘The Raven.’ Tessaya mulled the name over. Good warriors. Never to be underestimated as it seemed they had been by the Wytch Lords and their council of fawning Shamen.
‘Why did The Raven travel to Parve?’ he asked.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Kerus wore his slightly smug expression once more. ‘They carried with them the means to destroy your Masters. It is also obvious that they succeeded. My Lord.’
Tessaya wasn’t sure the probable destruction of the Wytch Lords bothered him. All he knew was that the Shamen, having lost their fire, were once again in their proper place, occupying the shadows behind the tribal Lords and warriors.
What did worry him was the fact that a few hundred men and mages had penetrated to the very heart of Wesmen faith. An act that had to take a good deal of tactical skill, power and bravery to succeed. A chill stole across Tessaya’s back as events started to fall into place. The rumours started to make sense - the Shadow Company patrolling the highlands, the dread force marauding south of Parve and the horsemen who never ceased to ride. It all happened after the water attack in the pass. The chill deepened. Only one man would have the audacity to believe he could reach Parve with a few hundred men.
‘Who was the Commander who died at the pass?’ he demanded.
‘Neneth. My Lord.’
‘And the leader of the cavalry was Darrick.’
‘Aye, my Lord. And he’ll be back, rely on that.’
Kerus’ words haunted Tessaya all the way down Understone’s main street.
Chapter 3
Barrass was enjoying a moment of happiness, an oasis in the desert of his hopelessness, when the Wesmen made the decisive break through Julatsa’s border defences.
To his eye, there was nothing more heartwarming than to see the sun rise above the Tower of the College of Julatsa. To see the darkness flee from every corner of every building, to see light sparkling from the pinnacle of each roof and then be able to look west towards Triverne Lake and see the birthplace of Balaian magic cast its shimmering pattern on the dark backdrop of the Blackthorne Mountains.
He used to believe that nothing in the world could hurt him while he could see that sight. But then the Wesmen breach shattered the Julatsan lines and he realised that unless the ultimate action was taken, he’d never see it again.
For a short time he watched in horror as the Wesmen spilled into the streets of his city, fighting running battles with the remnants of the city Guard, the spell-casting desultory and ineffective. After the first breach, fractures appeared all along the line until the Wesmen advance was a storm destined to break over the College walls. He could not allow that to happen.
Barras turned to General Kard and saw tears on the senior soldier’s cheeks. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.
‘General,’ he said gently. ‘Let me at least save the College.’ Kard looked at him, registering his words after some delay, his lips moving and his forehead furrowing deeply.
‘It can’t be done.’
‘It can. All I need is your authority.’
‘It is given,’ said Kard immediately. Barras nodded and summoned an aide.
‘Sound the emergency alarm, summon the perimeter guard inside the walls, quadruple the forces at the gates. I am going to the Heart of the Tower and will bring the Council to me. We will begin casting without pause. Don’t delay your actions.’
The aide looked at Barras for a moment, drinking in the words he had clearly never thought to hear.
‘At once, Master Barras.’
Barras stole another glance out over the Tower ramparts, the College walls and the streets of Julatsa. The wave was rising, the panic spreading; the noise was deafening.
Wesmen howled in scent of victory, defenders yelled futile rallying cries and ordinary men and women ran for their lives. As the alarms sounded, discordant bells clamouring for attention, the Julatsan population turned and ran for the College gates.
Barras mouthed a silent apology and prayer to all those who would remain outside to die. ‘Come on, Kard. Best you don’t see this.’
‘See what?’
‘We’re deploying the DemonShroud.’ He strode to the door of the Tower, which was opened by an attendant, and swept through, taking the stairs down two at a time, displaying an agility that belied his advanced years.
With Kard puffing along behind him, he reached the Heart of the Tower to join the Council, taking his place in the circle barely even breathing harder. It was something else Kard wouldn’t understand. A mage had to be fit, no matter the age. A strong cardiovascular system was critical for casting and for mana stamina recovery.
‘Will you guard the door, General Kard?’ Barras asked.
‘It would be an honour,’ said the General, who had stopped at the door, the force of the mana inside the Heart making him uneasy though he could see nothing of it. He bowed to the Council and closed the door. His presence would ensure there were no interruptions.