The Fire Mages' Daughter (35 page)

Poor Ly-haam. I had no love for him, but even after all that he had done to me, and to my people, I pitied him. He couldn’t help himself, and that was something I understood.

At least he would have a respite now. For a while he would be a normal man, not driven by dark magic coursing through his veins. For a while. We had defeated him once, but he would return, I was sure of that. The magic would drive him to it, whether he wanted it or not. And each time he came back, I could take his magic, and he would go away only to return as soon as his magic regenerated. It was a dance that neither of us could win.

Sooner or later, we had to find a permanent solution and there was only one way. Ly-haam had to die.

So began the wait for Ly-haam to return.

The business of clearing up after battle gave the fortress a purpose for a while. There were bodies to burn, the injured to treat, a handful of prisoners to be transported to Kingswell.

The ditch and bank were repaired, but everyone now knew it was not much of a defence. Against a conventional army, on foot or horseback, it would be a serious obstacle. But against these giant beasts – creatures with claws the size of a man’s head, and lions powerful enough to clear the ditch altogether – it would not hold them for long. We would have to depend on human defences and ingenuity.

Reinforcements arrived, grim-faced, marching in full battle order, although the Blood Clans had long gone. Still, it was a significant moment. Apart from a few clashes with the Vahsi, and a brief skirmish against the coastal ports a generation ago, there had been no fighting along the borders for a hundred years or more, not since the last Icthari war.

And a score of mages arrived, agitated and unhappy, to begin preparing their spells for the next battle. They had trained for healing and growth, fertility and prosperity, not killing. But they could not sit by and watch Bennamore be destroyed, if magic could turn the tide of the next battle.

For that much was clear: there would be another battle, sooner or later.

“Why are the commanders so sure the next attack will be here?” Mother said, as we sat on the battlements with the eagles. “They could invade anywhere, surely?”

“Nowhere else is suitable,” I said. “To the west, the Trembling Cliffs are too treacherous, and to the east there are wetlands. The only alternative would be a wide detour through Icthari lands, or else through the hill country to the south, but then they would be too far from Kingswell. No, they will come this way. They have only to take the fortress and the road to Kingswell is clear.”

“Assuming Kingswell is what they want,” Mother said darkly.

I’d had the same thought myself. We knew so little of the Blood Clans, and my time with Ly-haam had taught me only that his ways were very different from mine. I couldn’t guess what he truly wanted. But we were at war, and in war it was the capital that was the major prize. We had to assume that was their objective.

One of the two new eagles nudged my hand. We were feeding them pieces of meat to help settle them, and he obviously considered I was slacking in my duties.

“What are you planning to do with them?” Mother said. “Why not let them go, now that their riders have gone to Kingswell?”

“They are weapons of war,” I said. “The Acting High Commander doesn’t want the enemy to have them back. They are the only creatures we managed to capture alive, after all, and perhaps when they are accustomed to us, we can send them to Kingswell.”

“It would be more fun to ride them,” Arran said, with a grin.

“What?” I said in alarm. “Are you joking?”

He beamed even more. “Not at all.”

Cal laughed in delight. “I had the same idea. Then we could turn them against their former masters.”

“You might have trouble persuading them to fight against their kin,” I said. “But as for riding them… I don’t know if you will be able to. The Blood Clan riders have a mental bond with their beasts, and I have something the same. Without that, they may not cooperate.”

“You want to be the only one with your own eagle, is that it?” Arran said, in teasing tones. “You want to keep them all to yourself. But there are two spare ones. Cal and I could have one each.”

“Well…I can hardly object, I suppose. Go on, then. Try it.”

“You first,” Cal said, and Arran grinned boyishly.

I stood aside, moving nearer to Mother who was leaning against the parapet wall, as Arran stepped towards the three eagles. At a thought from me, mine hopped out of the way, while the other two eyed him, heads tilted to one side.

Arran still had a dish of meat in his hand. He held out a piece to one of the eagles, who leaned forward and snatched it greedily. Then another, and a third. Arran set the empty bowl on the ground. The eagle tipped forward to inspect it, then his head lifted, his eye fixed on Arran. Even crouching, the bird towered over him.

“Sorry, my beauty,” Arran said. “You have eaten it all. I will bring you more tomorrow.”

Hand stretched out, he stepped nearer, and nearer again, until the bird was within reach. Then, very tentatively, he stroked the bird’s head. The bird leaned into him.

“Hey! She likes me!”

“It’s a he,” I said.

“Is it? You can tell? Oh. Are you… communicating with him, then?”

I smiled at the disappointment in his tone. “Not at the moment. I have done, though, at first. Just to reassure him.”

“So you are not making this happen?”

“No. He really likes you, Arran.”

He grinned again. “So how do I get on? I can see how the saddle arrangement works, but will he let me ride him?” Before I could answer, he went on, half to himself, “Only one way to find out.”

Stretching to his full height, he grabbed the holding strap and heaved himself upwards.

Before he could settle himself, the bird screeched, extended his wings and flapped, half-lifting from the ground. Then he tossed his head, hurling Arran to the stone slabs beneath, where he lay, unmoving.

I screamed and ran to him, but a blurry figure pushed me aside. Mother was there before me, kneeling beside him, her hand on his brow. I held my breath, hands to mouth, my stomach clenched in fear.

“Not much damage,” she said, as conversationally as if she were discussing the prospects for the next harvest. A pause, frowning. “There. That should do it. Come on, Arran, wake up.”

And he did, slowly, bewildered, clasping my hand for support as he rolled onto his back and cautiously sat up. A streak of blood on his temple showed how much more serious his fall might have been if Mother hadn’t been there. I dared to breathe again. Thank all the gods for Mother and her special way with magic.

“Thank you,” I whispered to her, but she just smiled.

“Well,” Arran said, with a little laugh. “That did not quite go as planned. I think you may be right, Drina. It needs a mental connection.”

“Or magic,” Cal said. “May I try?”

“Absolutely not!” Mother and I said in unison.

Cal laughed, and sketched an ironic bow. “It shall be as you wish.”

But he and Arran exchanged glances. My mother laughed, and shook her head. She knew he was lying.

~~~~~

As the suns passed, my energy levels dropped little by little, until I felt more normal, and I could sleep at night. My waking hours were spent helping my mother in the infirmary, or watching the mages stockpile battle spells.

“This is not what our magic is for,” Jayna grumbled. “We should not use it to kill.”

“It’s not
for
anything,” Mother snapped. “It just
is
. It can be used for any purpose, good or bad. We’re under attack, Jayna. We’re entitled to defend ourselves.”

“Besides,” I said, “magic was a key factor in the War of Acquisition. Bennamore wouldn’t exist at all if the mages of the time hadn’t used their powers in battle.”

“I hope we are more civilised now,” Jayna muttered. Mother snorted in derision.

We were all on edge, sniping at each other and jumping at every rattling leaf or flickering lamp. The fortress was full to bursting, the Kingswell commanders were squeezed into every spare corner, and with every bed taken, the wagoners had taken to sleeping above the stables.

With the High Commander presumed dead in the forward camp devastation, the most senior commander in rank became Acting High Commander. He was a grizzled veteran of many Vahsi skirmishes, and a pragmatic man, who politely asked my opinion on tactics, courteously pointed out my errors and then did what he’d always intended to do. That was fine with me. After a few meetings, I learned to respond to his request for my views with a simple, “What do you think is best, High Commander?” He would tell me, I would agree, and we would both be happy, and with a great deal of time saved.

One of his sensible orders was to evacuate anyone not essential for the coming battle to the safety of Kingswell. The spouses and drusse, the children, and numerous personal servants would all be leaving. Since the best cooks would be amongst those departing, a final feast was ordered, to boost our spirits before the separation.

I was still not hungry. Magic was very sustaining, I found.

“You must eat something, Drina,” Mother said crossly, between courses. “Really, I swear you are worse now than when you were a child.”

“She knows her own appetite,” Cal said mildly. “She is the Drashonor now, Kyra, and our war leader. I think she can make her own decision about when to eat.”

Mother’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Perhaps. But it’s such a pity to have so much magic in her, yet she can do nothing with it. She just…
consumes
it. While we use up our supplies making firestones and sleep spells. If only we could get some of it out of her to fuel ourselves.”

Even now, my mother could still make me feel guilty just for being me. Just for existing. I hung my head, ashamed of myself. If only I could have been a scribe and then a mage, like her. My life would have been so different. But I couldn’t help what I was.

My mother heaved a sigh, rubbing her eyes.

“Ah, you are tired,” Cal said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “You have been doing too much. But there are more jade stones coming from Kingswell. Then we can all replenish our magic levels.”

“I wish we could get to a scribery,” she said. “Or the Imperial City. There is so much magic there, the air is full of it. Even the soil in the flowerbeds has magic in it.”

“All earth has magic in it,” Cal said. “That’s where it comes from, the earth and the sun. That’s why Drina used to dig her fingers into the ground when she was younger, trying to get that tiny amount of magic from it.”

“Actually…” I paused, frowning, trying to remember. “I think it’s not true that there’s magic in the earth everywhere. When I was on Ly-haam’s island, there was no magic in the earth there.”

Cal’s face lit up. “Really? Fascinating! I wonder why?” And for the rest of the evening he, my mother and several of the other mages had their heads together in increasingly wild speculation over the reason.

As the evening ended and people began to drift away to bed, I had to search for Arran. I found him with a woman with an over-decorated gown and a large mouth, who was gazing up at him adoringly. He rested one hand on the wall behind her head, while the other was gesturing as he talked. She was laughing and nodding at every word, and he was smiling down at her.

“Arran? I am ready to leave now.”

He jumped, the smile slipping just for a moment before he recovered. “Of course.”

Spinning round, I strode away, leaving the bodyguards and Arran to scamper in my wake. He soon caught up with me, tucking my arm into his and dazzling me with his smile as if nothing had happened.

I tried not to be disappointed in him. There might come a time when I would tire of his wandering eye. Maybe when the war was over, and we settled back into normal life, he would seem less appealing to me. Or perhaps one sun he would break my heart. But so many horrors had happened to me lately, and were still happening. Arran was the one fixed point in my life, and I clung to him as if I were drowning and he the only rock above water. I needed him, and I wasn’t going to allow anything to tear him away from me. Or anyone.

~~~~~

Two suns later, I was in a meeting with the commanders, trying to explain why it was that I could detect no trace of Ly-haam. They seemed to think I had a permanent connection to him, and although one or two muttered darkly that I was drawing him to Bennamore, mostly they just wanted to know where he was and when he would be returning. Neither were questions I could answer.

“Perhaps we should move on?” the Acting High Commander said, in his mild way. He always spoke quietly, but there was unquestioned authority in his voice.

“The next item for discussion is the state of the mages’ preparations,” the secretary said, marking his slate.

“We have no mage present,” one of the commanders muttered, his voice a deep rumble. “Again.”

“They are fully occupied creating spells,” I said. “I can speak for them, however. There are—”

Sunshine screeched, and I stopped, mouth flapping open. My stomach lurched. What had she seen? Were we under attack again? But no, I could feel no alarm in her. She seemed to be… amused.

I laughed, and the commanders gawped at me in astonishment.

“Are you quite well, Most Powerful?” said the Acting High Commander politely.

“Oh – yes. I beg your pardon, but my eagle is calling me. I must attend to her for a moment.”

I didn’t wait for a response, switching to the eagle’s mind. She was flying, still screeching, again in amusement, although mingled with pleasure at my presence. Then another noise, louder, screaming, not an eagle this time.

Her eyes showed me nothing at first. We were above the fortress, looking down at the wagon yard directly below. All the wagoners and stablehands were standing staring upwards, some pointing. But not at us. One of the other eagles came into view, and then the third—