‘Indeed. Have a pleasant journey and enjoy yourself.’
‘Thank you. Farewell for now.’
She smiled a soft smile at him and walked up to the ship. The captain gently took her hand and guided her over the gangplank. She followed him as he led her below deck where she was lost from
view.
Wulfthram stood and watched as the mooring ropes were cast off and the vessel was pushed into the harbour’s main channel. Under the power of its oars, it was slowly manoeuvred out to sea
and clear of the headland. Once it was there, the oars were withdrawn and a single sail raised. It caught the wind almost immediately and sped out to sea, the flag of Osperitsan flapping proudly
from its main mast. He continued to watch until it was barely discernible against the horizon. Then he suddenly turned, climbed on to his horse and was away in an instant.
Marcus walked quickly towards the parade ground at the centre of the camp, leaving Cheris struggling to keep up with him. When he got there he turned right towards the front
gate. She huffed and puffed behind him until at last she had had enough. She pulled his sleeve and stopped dead on the road.
‘’Lissa’s blood. I am not moving another step until you talk to me.’
Benignly he stopped and turned to her. ‘What is it, my dear?’
‘Why on earth should these people want to see me? What by all the Gods have I got to say to them?’
‘You are a mage. That is enough. You will be privy to all war councils and strategy meetings because of your talents. We may be feared elsewhere but the only thing a good general likes
more than having a mage in his army is having
two
mages. It’s like the Winter Feast celebration has come early for them.’
‘I rather thought,’ she said archly, ‘that I would be able to hide behind you in all these matters.’
‘And so you shall. They still want to see you, though. Dominic Hartfield is a knight of the Grand Duke’s personal bodyguard and Reynard Lanthorpe of the Eagle Claw is pretty much
Baron Felmere’s second-in-command here. I have a feeling they will just want to size you up. Whenever a mage turns out to be a woman, it makes them a little wary. Women on the battlefield are
an ... odd concept for them.’
‘Well, if they want to send me home they are more than welcome. Come on then, let’s get this over with.’
Marcus continued onwards. Amid all the tents and pavilions was a low building constructed hastily out of logs. Its doorway was little more than a sheet of canvas, currently being held open by a
fastening hammered into the wood. Without hesitating, Marcus strode inside. Cheris stopped, rolled her eyes a little and plunged in after him.
The structure was just a single room, windowless with a bare earthen floor. Light was provided by a couple of lanterns which were barely up to the task. From what she could see there were two
other men in the room, both in full armour. One was fair-haired and bearded, and the other had short dark hair and was clean-shaven. Aside from that, she could make out little in the gloom. Marcus
spoke.
‘Sir Reynard, Sir Dominic, allow me to introduce Cheris Menthur, a lady of not inconsiderable talent, whom I have had the pleasure of mentoring these last fifteen years.’
Both men bowed curtly to her; she, being unsure of how to respond, did the same. The blond man spoke.
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lady. As you are probably aware, this war has been bogged down rather nastily for the past few years. However with your arrival and that of many
other troops including Sir Dominic’s here, Baron Felmere is poised to make a decisive push against the enemy before winter sets in.’
Sir Dominic broke in. ‘Most of this camp will be moving forward over the next couple of days to join the main army. Then the forces will be mobilized for a strike on the town of Grest, on
the river Whiterush. If we take the town before winter, then we can use it as a forward base from which to further advance on them next year.’
‘There will be battle then? Very soon?’ Cheris tried to sound casual.
‘Most definitely,’ said Reynard. ‘The Grand Duke is determined to give this conflict fresh impetus and to prosecute it with vigour until the enemy concedes the land he has
taken from us. That is why your talent has been employed.’
Dominic spoke. ‘Marcus tells us this is your first military deployment.’
‘Indeed it is. It is actually my first time off the island since my childhood.’
‘There will be a lot of pressure on you to display your Lucan-given talent. Are you not afeard of buckling under everybody’s expectations?’
Cheris felt her hackles rise –
she
could question her own abilities,
Marcus
could question them, but for a layman to do so was little more than barefaced cheek. Perhaps a
demonstration was in order.
‘I am terribly sorry, Sir Dominic, but the light in here is terrible and I would rather see the face of the man accusing me of being a flake. If you don’t mind?’
She made a quick gesture with her hands and said something under her breath. Instantly the room was illuminated with a soft white glow emanating from her upturned palm, picking out the startled
expressions of the two young men. She could see they were both ruggedly handsome, tall, with a determined set to their jaw. She didn’t bother looking at Marcus; she knew his disapproving
expression only too well.
‘There,’ she said breezily, ‘is that not better?’
Suddenly Dominic laughed. ‘Exactly the response I was looking for! Reynard, we will have to watch this one. Bit of a change from the sycophants we usually have to deal with, eh?’
Reynard looked at her. With the light she could see his keen blue eyes piercing her like a lance. ‘Indeed, my friend, though she will have to be aware that the Arshumans, too, have a mage
who may not be as impressed with this as we are.’
Marcus spoke. ‘I have heard of this mage. In battle we can seek each other out like beacons; we can sense when our opponent is trying to draw energy from the Plane of Lucan and can travel
there with him and so try to nullify his powers. I will have to deal with him.’
‘That’s as maybe, and it will be both your jobs to stop him raining havoc down upon us like he did last time,’ said Reynard.
Dominic, still smiling, made towards the door. ‘In two days’ time Baron Felmere holds a council of war at the forward camp. You will both be there, and then we will see how our
fortunes will fare. I bid you both good day.’ He bowed and left them.
‘Yes,’ said Reynard, ‘sleep here tonight and the three of you can join us there tomorrow. Things are moving quickly now. By the spring we may even have newer, more exotic
allies, but I cannot speak of this further at the present time.’
Cheris asked him, ‘Have you been out here long?’
‘Yes,’ he said, almost ruefully, ‘almost since the beginning. No one will be happier to see a rapid and successful outcome than I.’
As he left, Cheris dropped the light spell; it was showing up far too many spiders in the corners of the room. She followed Marcus outside.
‘Sorry for the cheap parlour trick.’
He laughed and started walking back to the healer’s tent. ‘Don’t be! I thought it was rather effective. Imagine, two seasoned warriors doubting the powers of a twenty-two-year
old girl.’ He laughed again.
She was chasing after him again. ‘Are you mocking me?’
‘Not at all. But don’t let your cleverness go to your head. As Lanthorpe pointed out, there will be a mage facing us. A mage duel can be a frightening thing. We can get into each
other’s minds, sense our opponent’s moves; he can try and disrupt our attempts to cross the divide and we can do the same with him. As I said earlier, leave him to me.’
Cheris screwed up her brow. ‘If we can sense him so strongly, why can’t I do that on the island? Magic is used there constantly.’
Marcus looked at her knowingly. ‘But you can. You are just never interested enough to focus on it properly. It is nearly always a question of low-level spells cast by initiates there;
powerful spells are rarely employed and there are shielded rooms on the upper floor of the college set aside for them. Think of your room in Tanaren City. The first few minutes there I bet you
thought: ‘‘My! Listen to all those carts and wagons going past.’’ But I bet after a few hours it barely registered with you. It is still there, but it has become mundane,
and so it is with magic on the island. Now, when a single mage close by is drawing a lot of power and wishes to use it to kill you or your allies, then you will most definitely notice
it.’
She nodded slowly and changed the subject. ‘So Anaya is coming with us?’
‘Of course, you cannot have your healer some miles behind the battle.’
‘I fear for her. She has seen too much death and suffering. She needs to leave all this behind, at least for a while.’
‘I agree. I can do nothing about the current battle, but when it is done perhaps we can take her back with us. She needs to appreciate the tranquillity of island life again.’
The Knights of the Holy Thorn had partitioned a small room off for them in their pavilion. It had little more than two low camp beds with blankets and a table off which to eat.
After a quick meal Cheris fancied a walk around the camp, only to be told by Sir Norton that even here there were restrictions on mages’ movements.
‘But what if I want to use the ladies ... facilities?’
‘Anaya and the nurses have a private tent for such things.’
Thus stymied, Cheris spent the rest of the day reading. Soon her magic would be called upon like never before, so she needed to be prepared. When her brain began to ache and the light of the
candles ceased to be effective, she lay down to sleep. It was a hard bed but she was used to it. Marcus had been here and there on business, but eventually he, too, joined her. Her last memory
before drifting off was of him turning this way and that, trying to get comfortable on a bed that was too short for him.
The next day, the beginning of the next stage in her journey. she spent the morning helping Anaya to pack her bottles and equipment, fold down some of the beds and load the healer’s wagon.
Only a couple of nurses were to be left here with minimal equipment, so the logistics of the move were considerable. By noon it was done, however, and Cheris saw the healer off through the main
gate, Anaya sharing her wagon with the nurses and some of the Knights of the Holy Thorn. She was not alone. Many of the soldiers had gone already and some were even now marching just behind
Anaya’s wagon on the way to the front. Looking round, much of the camp was stripped bare, with bruised grass and mud showing in areas that had previously been blooming with tents. As she
looked round, she saw her own wagon come towards her, driven by Sir Norton this time, as Roland was staying behind. When he got to her he stopped.
‘It is our turn to go now, my Lady. Marcus is already in the back.’
She nodded to him and climbed into the wagon. Together they headed towards the last camp before battle.
This camp was much more like what she had expected of a military encampment. Unlike the calm organisation of the place she had just left, this one was full of chaos and bustle
– men armed and armoured chasing this way and that; horses steaming and sweating as squires struggled to control them; carts and wagons carving great ruts through the mud; men shouting,
barking, cursing and laughing, and the smells of sweat, leather, smoke from the campfires and mud and wet grass. She had taken the opportunity when they had broken for a meal earlier on to sit up
front with Sir Norton. He said little but she was not in much of a conversational mood herself. And now, as he steered the horses to the knights’ tent, she felt a strange sense of what could
almost be euphoria. Everyone here knew what was soon about to happen and she could feel the nervous energy and excitement of the men, all poised to bring their inactivity to a close and all with a
deadly purpose.
Presently, they stopped at the knights’ tent. Inside it was the same arrangement as before – a space partitioned off with two beds and a table. She sat down with Marcus opposite her.
He remarked on the bustle around the place.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you can sense the anticipation in everyone here. It is hard not to get caught up in it all. I never thought people could get so enthusiastic over a battle in
which they could get hurt or killed.’
‘I think you are misreading the situation,’ he said. ‘Getting the blood pumping and the aggression flowing is the best way to banish the fear over what is to come. A
battlefield is a terrible place – you will see soon enough – and if your nerve breaks when you fight you are practically cutting your own throat. As for us, we cannot have the luxury of
a drink or a battle song before the fray. We have to stay controlled and focused and deal with our fear in other ways.’
‘What other ways?’
It may sound arrogant but we have to have faith in our own abilities. Our self-belief can be our strongest weapon. Never think that anything you face is deadlier than you are, because most of
the time this is the truth – we are the deadliest weapons of all. We can command nature against our foes. All men have an innate fear of us and it is that we can exploit to our advantage. I
will show you this if I can.’
‘Should I stick with the abilities I am most familiar with?’
‘Yes you should – just stay with that which gives you confidence. One thing, though: pay special regard to your skills at nullifying another’s power. Stopping the enemy is just
as important as dealing death on your own account.’
Sir Norton came round to see, them holding a large bowl whose contents were steaming.
‘Some potage – vegetable only of course,’ he said, looking at Cheris. ‘Eat your fill, then come and see me. I will take you to the grand pavilion where the barons’
war council will start in an hour or so.’
Cheris started eating the stew but for some reason had trouble swallowing it, although it tasted good. ‘’Lissa help me, I am so nervous.’
‘Nervous as in frightened or excited?’
She looked at him, her grey eyes sparkling. ‘I am not frightened.’