Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (50 page)

“Agreed,” added Lord Hallimere. “He has little
experience. A few summers fighting on the northeast borders to keep back the
ogre incursions, then a small scouting command that could not be called
entirely successful.”

Lord Hallimere was technically Lord of Kadris. All
functions of governing the city—those that the emperor did not wish to deal
with personally—fell within his purview. While his personal holdings in the
city were still considerable, House Benklear had a greater share of the city
than the Hallimeres. Neither, however, held title to as much of the city as the
Solarans. Between the Solarans, Archons, Gardaruses, Benklears, and Hallimeres,
nearly all the land in the city was accounted for, and all others were their
tenants.

“I have an eye for such things,” Rashan said. “I see
more than you do, looking at the same events. I watch him think and plan, I
have matched wits with him and lost. I have conquered kingdoms and advised
emperors, and I have more blood on my hands than any of you have seen in a
lifetime. I am an expert on the subject of war, and I tell you that I prefer
Sir Brannis to lead my armies.”

Brannis could see the effect his words had all along
the table. Except for Iridan, these people had not ridden with Rashan, not
talked with him at any length. To them, he was history come to life—an ancient,
mad demigod of war. He sounded so sure when he spoke, brooking no argument and
citing experience at war that he knew none could call into question. Certainly
the wisdom of his conquests could be rightly debated—and had been for a hundred
winters—but the fact of them was indisputable.

“So then, tell us of this new threat from goblins to
the west,” Shador said, seeming to be not entirely concerned with the affairs
of the army.

“The expedition to Kelvie uncovered the incursion of
goblin forces to our western territories,” Rashan said. “Word was sent to the
Circle, but went unheeded, and now we have word that Illard’s Glen has fallen.
We believe that they intend to press onward to Raynesdark with the intent to
conquer and hold it. Should they succeed, they will be difficult to dislodge,
as Raynesdark is built quite well for defense.”

“Would that not mean that the goblins will have
difficulty attacking it in the first place?” Lord Hallimere asked, and there
was a general muttering of agreement with his logic. “Certainly we ought to
know how to defend it better than they would.”

“That might be the case, but we know that the goblins
are no fools,” Brannis said. “They know better than to throw their forces at
defenses that they cannot penetrate. We have reports that they have created new
siege engines and tested them on the walls of Illard’s Glen, a town they could
easily have taken anyway. Instead they crushed the wall into gravel just to see
if they could. Raynesdark will face the same threat soon enough.” Brannis hoped
he sounded as smart as Rashan made him out to be.

“What makes you certain that they are intent on
Raynesdark?” asked Duke Benklear. The scrawny, bald old nobleman sat back and
awaited an answer with folded arms.

“We have examined all the possible motives for the
goblin campaign against us and concluded that they are intent on the Raynesdark
mines,” Rashan answered. “I will not bore you with the details of our
deliberations, but suffice it that we find no logical reason for them to take
Illard’s Glen and nothing more, and had they intended to strike us farther
south, the delay to take Illard’s Glen would have been pointless.”

“So what then? You mentioned having a plan,” Shador
asked. “I am not normally privy to war council. Tell me why we are here
tonight.”

“Well, firstly, I had wished to congratulate you and
formally announce the betrothal of my son to your daughter.” There were looks
of surprise around the table, but no one spoke out. “Iridan.” Rashan motioned
for him to stand, and the new member of the Inner Circle got up from his chair,
resplendent in his black warlock’s robes. “Juliana.” He motioned to the young
sorceress and she complied. She was wearing the plainer black robes befitting
her position in the Sixth Circle, cinched tightly around her slender waist.

She looked much the same as Brannis remembered her,
though he had avoided seeing her the past few summers. She still had the same
long reddish-gold hair, and her figure seemed to have never fully finished
filling out. The fire he was used to seeing in her eyes seemed muted, and she
looked a bit self-conscious with the attention of the rest of the attendees on
her. She looked around a bit as she stood there, and when she turned to look
his way, Brannis quickly averted his gaze to avoid making eye contact with her.
In doing so, he happened to notice that Iridan looked a bit nervous with the
attention as well.

“We are in no rush,” Rashan said. “There will be time
for festivities come springtime, with better omens for a marriage. We shall
toast a renewed alliance between House Solaran and House Archon.”

And with that, everyone at the table stood and raised
their wine goblets. There was a general chorus of agreement with the sentiment,
though Brannis thought he could make out some sarcastic comment from Lord
Hallimere about how little support House Solaran seemed to need these days.

After the toast, they all resumed their seats, with
the soon-to-be couple looking relieved to rejoin the rest of the diners.

“And now to the more pressing business,” Rashan said.
“I feel that we need to dispatch aid to Raynesdark in advance of the expected
invasion. I have heard two sentiments tonight that I have agreed with. The
first is that Raynesdark ought to be able to hold out, as the city’s defenses
are indeed formidable. The second is that goblins are clever little vermin and
know better than to attack with no plan to overcome those defenses.

“Since the city ought to be able to defend itself, and
the goblins clearly have thought of some clever way to change that, I am
sending Grand Marshal Brannis over there to match wits with them and counter
whatever gambit they intend.”

“You really think that sending this boy over there is
going to change the course of a battle?” asked Duke Benklear. “If so, I think
you are daft. I know Duke Pellaton, and if some unscarred little knight shows
up at his castle gates demanding to take over command of his army, he shall
have him in chains. I would do the same if I had a goblin army camped in my
back garden and some fool came around trying to give me orders.”

“In that case, I expect you will approve of my
decision to send along a few of the Circle to lend him aid. There will be no
confusion over who is in command. Iridan will be going as well. He has
experience in battle, and I have given him some advice that ought to help him
as well.” Rashan paused, as if awaiting objections, then continued when there
were none: “I am also sending Ruuglor Megaren, Second Circle, and Faolen
Sarmon, Fourth Circle. They have both proven themselves to be competent and
have accepted this assignment voluntarily.”

Two of the sorcerers Brannis had never met nodded in
acknowledgment, making it apparent that they were Ruuglor and Faolen, though he
could not gather which was which.

“Lastly, Juliana Archon will be going as well.”

The last comment provoked a reaction from Shador
Archon, who immediately bolted up to his feet.

“You cannot just send a girl into a war! She is only
Sixth Circle and you just arranged her to your own son. You may have
aspirations of turning Iridan into a warlock, but Juliana is no warrior,”
Shador said. “What game are you playing at? Are you trying to get her killed?”

“Relax yourself, Shador. I have no thought as to how
long the siege of Raynesdark may last. I had just thought that it would be good
for Iridan and Juliana to spend time together, and Iridan will certainly not be
staying behind. When the fighting starts, I would expect her to keep out of the
fray, along with Sorcerers Ruuglor and Faolen, I might add. Only Iridan would I
expect to actually engage the enemy,” Rashan said. “And besides, I believe that
a man fighting to protect his lady love will always fight to the best of his
ability.”

The conversation went on for a while longer, but that
was the last of it that really sank into Brannis’s mind. The lords and
sorcerers may have missed his intent, but Brannis had heard it as clearly as if
he had spoken it aloud. It was not Iridan that Rashan was looking to goad into
excellence, but Brannis himself.

*
* * * * * * *

After the dinner was over, one of the palace porters
brought Brannis to a room they had made ready for him. The palace was replete
with guest rooms, prepared to entertain personages from all over the world,
from kings to emperors, lords to merchant princes, and occasionally even Kadrin
nobility when they came from outside the city.

Brannis stopped in the room just long enough to allow
the dinner guests to go their various ways. Once he felt it was relatively safe
to go about without answering a lot of questions, he headed across the palace
and to the Tower of Contemplation.

The guards on duty that night were not Tod and Jodoul,
but they let Brannis into the library anyway. After all, short of Rashan
himself, Brannis seemed to be in charge of everyone, as far as most folk could
tell.

An hour later, when Brannis left with a pack that was
suspiciously much fuller than when he arrived, the guards said nothing. There
were rules about taking books from the library—namely, that no one was to take
books from the library—but Brannis was willing to ignore rules until such time
as he heard from Rashan that they applied to him. Anyone else was going to have
to take it up with the warlock if they did not agree with what he did.

Inside the pack were three volumes:
Basic Wards
,
which seemed to have a good overview of the simpler warding spells;
Hellfire’s
Song
, a whimsically entitled book that nonetheless contained details on a
number of battle magics that Brannis thought might be good to know; and
The
Way of the Wind
, which discussed at length weather and wind patterns, both
from an academic as well as magical view.

Brannis had nearly taken
Magic at Sea: The Tides of
Aether and Water
, but had no idea how to justify having it if someone found
it. He promised himself to look into it later, upon his return. Kyrus would
just have to get by without nautical magic for a while.

Chapter 25 - Sorcerer Ahoy

Kyrus was relieved to find the chair still in place
upon his awakening. He had jammed it against the door before going to bed,
worried that some superstitious man among the crew might decide he felt safer
with no “witch” aboard ship. The gentle swaying of the cabin reminded Kyrus
that they were at sea—still in the Katamic, unless he had slept for days. The
cabin had no window, and the only light came from the soft blue glow that Kyrus
had left there the previous night.

He was surprised how well rested he felt. He had
feared that he would not sleep at all, given the motion of the ship and the
worry about his safety. After bracing the door, he had curled up on the cabin’s
lone bunk, which he knew to be a luxury aboard ship, and let his vision drift
into the aether. He had never tried it before, but he found that he could watch
Sources even through the wooden planks of the ship. It was fascinating—and a
bit eerie—being able to see through walls, if only in a limited fashion, but it
let him keep track of where the other men on the ship were, and reassure him
that they were not gathering outside his door.

However, fascination and falling asleep rarely could
cohabitate in the same mind. While Kyrus intended to watch the door for signs
of attack, he fell in to watching the habits of his new shipmates. He heard
voices and connected them to the distinct look of each Source, and tried to catch
names and add those to his collection as well. He was also disconcerted when he
noted that he could even see through the floor below him and grew irrationally
nervous when he saw men milling about belowdecks under his cabin. He was not
yet familiar with the layout of the ship, but he supposed that he was above one
of the holds. The men had not congregated below him, just poked around a bit,
and he saw a larger group of them lying farther down the lower deck, which he
gathered was the crew’s quarters.

Shortly after confirming that his impromptu door lock
was secure, Kyrus let his vision back into the aether to check the environs
outside his quarters. He could hear them at work out on deck, and his
aether-vision confirmed that nearly the whole crew was above deck, with a few
going to and from the hold. There were in fact a great many more men than he
had remembered from the previous night. He resolved to look into it once he had
a chance to look around the cabin more thoroughly.

He had been preoccupied with his safety at first and
later with the goings-on aboard ship, and had not taken inventory of his new
abode. For better or worse, for the time being, he was a pirate, and he had
lost all his Acardian possessions save the clothes he wore and the Expert’s Medallion
that still hung around his neck—thankfully they had not seen fit to relieve him
of it at the Scar Harbor jail. Whatever he had in his cabin would become his,
temporarily at least. Blinking back into normal light vision, he reconnoitered
the room.

The whole of the cabin was done in dark-stained wood,
polished to a shine where it had not worn. The single bunk was of a simple
design, with little ornament aside from round knobs at the footer. It had heavy
blankets, feather pillows, and was quite comfortable for shipboard
accommodations. There was a small writing desk, permanently attached to the
wall, whose chair Kyrus had used to bar the door. A lantern hung from the
ceiling in the middle of the room and was low enough that Kyrus would have to
watch his head lest he injure himself on it. He considered removing it, as he
would be quite content to use magic to light his room, but he would have time
to redecorate later.

The most interesting furnishing in the cabin though
was the footlocker. Made of oak and reinforced with iron bands and hardware, it
had a formidable look to it. Unlike the rest of the cabin, it showed its age in
the smooth-worn areas where a hand would reach to open or close it, and bore
scratches and nicks in keeping with a chest that had traveled with its owner
for years before coming aboard the
Harbinger
. Kyrus tried to open the
lid and found it locked. He took some time to search the room—under the bed, in
all the desk drawers, looking for compartments in the lantern—but could find no
key. Likely it had been left in Acardia with its owner.

Kyrus studied the lock. He knew very little about
locks but was not above learning. He picked up a letter opener he found in the
desk and jammed it into the keyhole and wiggled it around a bit, managing nothing
aside from marring the edge of the opener. A few minutes of frustration later,
he simply repeated the spell that had sprung him from his jail cell:

“Kohtho ilextiumane veeru,”
he chanted softly and made sure to keep his fingers
safely apart.

At first, he merely warmed the lock, but slowly he
brought his fingers closer together, and watched as the metal began to glow.
Then with a quick burst of aether, he pressed his fingers together, creating a
white-hot flash just before his fingers touched. Quickly he reached out and
pulled the lid open, keeping his fingers well away from the lock. A whiff of
smoke rose from the ruined lock, causing Kyrus to cough and turn his head away.
He had managed to keep the wood from catching fire, though, and that was all he
had hoped for.

Inside the chest, he found clothing and personal
effects. There were Acardian Navy uniforms, a heavy jacket, a pair of worn
shoes, a sterling silver tankard, a shaving kit, a dagger with a carved ivory
handle, a coffer that was heavy with coins, and a collection of exotic jewelry.
Kyrus was careful not to confuse “exotic” with “valuable,” as the jewelry
consisted of stuff Kyrus would not have given a second look in the markets.
There was a shark-tooth necklace, with the teeth polished and dulled enough to
not endanger the wearer; a bracelet of carved wood, made to look like it was
woven; a belt buckle of hammered tin that showed the insignia of some Takalish
distillery; and a ring set with amber that contained a tiny spider.

Kyrus opened the coffer and counted over twelve
hundred eckles. It was a tidy sum, hardly enough to retire on but certainly
enough for a contingency in case he needed it. Kyrus put the coffer away and
took up the shaving kit. There was a small cup and brush, some soap, a razor, a
leather strap, and a small mirror with a loop at one end. He looked about and
found a hook on one wall, and hung the mirror.

Kyrus had looked better. He was bruised and battered.
He had not shaved in days, and he needed to comb his hair. He quickly rechecked
the footlocker for a comb, but found nothing. He decided that in all likelihood
the former occupant had been bald, or at least kept his head clean shaven.
Kyrus angled the mirror a bit to look himself over. His clothes were torn and
filthy, and he decided that he would need to find clothes somewhere on the ship
that would fit him. His Expert’s Medallion was intact and still around his
neck, which he was oddly thankful for. There were to be few enough ties to his
life in Acardia, and that was one he had at least managed to keep with him.

He took the medallion and examined it, looking over
all the curves and lines, remembering the night he had gotten it. It had not
been so long ago, less than a month even. Back then, Davin had been around, and
Kyrus had little to worry about beyond finishing his day’s work. He had little
in the way of responsibilities and had spent his free time reading and playing
chess with Davin. All the excitement he could crave, he lived out in his dream
world, which seemed at the time to be a sensible alternative to risking his own
life with a sword and armor.

Since he had received the medallion, Davin had left
for Golis to work for the king, and he had taken over the business. He had
first discovered that the magic he saw in his dreams really worked, and
realized that the knight he saw in his dreams saw Kyrus in his own. And most
importantly, he had met Abbiley, a girl he had admired from afar for years yet
never worked up the courage to approach. His time with Abbiley had been the
best of his life, and he regretted not having approached her sooner. He had not
realized back then that he would have so little time with her before the
strange turn his life had just taken would separate them. He had seen her just
yesterday, yet he was heading the opposite direction with no clear plan to get
back to her. He was missing her badly already.

Kyrus was all ready to wash up and make himself
presentable when he realized he had no water. He sat down on the edge of the
bed to consider that peculiar conundrum. The ship was surrounded by water, but
Kyrus had lived by the sea long enough to know better than to expect to drink
or wash with seawater. Having to store any freshwater they would use probably
meant that the pirates were not likely to use much of it for washing. Kyrus was
going to be in the same boat with them, both literally and figuratively.

He went through the clothes in the footlocker and laid
them out on the bed. He tried on various articles and found that at the very
least, the loose-fitting tunics that the navy wore for working on deck were
forgiving of size differences. The previous owner was shorter and stouter than
Kyrus, but the billowing garment covered him well enough. While the sleeves
were not long enough, the top covered his torso—though would not tuck in as a
good navy officer would wear it—and with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows,
it did not look so ridiculous as it hung loosely from his shoulders.

Kyrus checked the mirror again. He looked like a lost
little boy who had been dressed in someone else’s clothing. Slipping back to
aether-vision, he saw the dozens of men outside, each one a killer, and
wondered how long a lost little boy might last among them. Shifting back to
seeing in the light, Kyrus had an idea.

He dug out the strange jewelry from the locker and put
on the necklace, the bracelet, and the ring. He looked in the mirror and
decided that the bracelet looked silly on him, and removed it. The shark-tooth
necklace and spider ring looked just primitive enough that it might give second
thoughts about his mystical powers.

Kyrus also snuffed out the blue light in the room. It
was easy on his eyes as he worked, but it was too calming and serene for the
effect he wanted. Quickly casting the light spell again, he set the color to a
deep, ominous red, the kind of light you saw looking through the grating of a
wood stove, or in a blacksmith’s forge.

While the pretense he was creating stood to give pause
to those who might take advantage of the scrawny scrivener aboard, Kyrus had
one real protection to add. He took the quill and ink that came with the desk
and began drawing on the inside of the door. Brannis had done more in his time
in the library than just select books to take along; he had read up on the
proper runes for creating a warded door. Kyrus had never created a ward before
but had practiced a bit with the rune language, and his hand was steady for the
kind of work that was required.

When he finished drawing on the door, he inspected his
work, and it looked just as he remembered it from his dream. Knowing that it
would not last even the day as ink, Kyrus began tracing over the ink with the
letter opener, carving the runes into the wood of the door. It took hours of
work, but when he was finished, he energized the runes with aether and threw
his weight against the door. By physical means, he could not budge the door at
all.

Releasing the ward, Kyrus finally allowed himself out
on deck.

*
* * * * * * *

Despite his initial apprehensions, Kyrus found himself
enjoying his time out on deck. He was still unused to the swaying of the ship
at sea but had not actually fallen down yet trying to walk.

The noise and extra Sources he saw were from the ship
they had tethered themselves to. After asking around, he found that it was the
Nyurissa
,
Stalyart’s former trade ship. They were taking on additional supplies and had
picked up a handful of additional crewmen. They were transferring aboard all
the things Stalyart had prepared and trading in many of the belongings and
supplies from the navy’s crew.

Kyrus had made many friends among the men when he had
seen them struggling to load crates of rum with the ship’s primitive crane. He
had sent men scrambling in every direction when he had grabbed the load with
telekinesis and easily completed the task for them. Once they had departed and
raised the sails, Kyrus had filled them with a strong wind to get them under
way.

“Stand by us, Mr. Hinterdale, and you will always have
a welcome on this ship,” Captain Zayne had told him.

The old pirate had seemed ecstatic to have the
services of a true sorcerer aboard, even if he was a bit green—both in the lack
of experience and his slight discomfort with sea travel.

Kyrus had spent much of the day making the
acquaintance of the rest of the crew. They seemed unscrupulous to a man, and
while many seemed eager to endear themselves to the one who could lift their
loads and fill their sails, Kyrus was sure that several were uncomfortable
having a sorcerer on the ship. There was something in their eyes when he spoke
to them; the pirates seemed bold enough by and large, but the ones who could
not meet his gaze unnerved him. He supposed that it was partly the bizarre
accoutrements he had outfitted himself with, but mostly that he was outside of
their realm of knowledge. Of all the crew, the only ones who seemed comfortable
around him were Captain Zayne and First Mate Stalyart.