Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy) (53 page)

“Oh, and I trust that the four of you will support
Brannis’s claim that he has truly been appointed grand marshal. I want no
trouble from Duke Pellaton if he is indeed as cantankerous as Duke Benklear
inferred. Brannis is to take charge of all Kadrin forces present, including
Duke Pellaton’s own troops. And that includes the lot of you and any sorcerers
in the city already,” Rashan said.

“But, Warlock, the chains of command are entirely
separate. I would have to support the senior—in this case—only member of the Inner
Circle present, were there to be a conflict,” Faolen said, possibly mistaking
Brannis’s and Iridan’s informality with the warlock for permission to act so
himself.

“Let me make this clear, Sorcerer Faolen. Marshal
Brannis is in charge on this journey, and he is in charge when you all reach
Raynesdark.
I
say so, and I am High Sorcerer, as well as Regent of the
Empire. I am explicitly ordering you to follow Marshal Brannis’s command. Is
that clear?” Rashan asked, glaring at Faolen.

They all selected mounts and stowed their gear in the
saddlebags. Brannis’s load was much lighter now that he was not bringing
separate armor for travel and battle; the magical armor was more comfortable
even than his own expertly fitted armor—and lighter as well.

“Iridan,” Rashan spoke softly, pulling his son aside
as the others were busying themselves with the horses. “Take this,” and he
pressed a plum-sized spherical stone into Iridan’s hand. It was carved with
hastily scratched runes and had a hole in the middle, through which a leather
thong was run. “It is a crude speaking stone I crafted last night. It will only
send to me and may not work for long, but should anything go badly, contact me.
I can use a transference spell to come to your aid. I have much to attend to
here in Kadris, so do not bother me for trivialities.”

“How bad should I allow things to get before seeking
aid?” Iridan asked.

“Ahh, now that is my son talking. Assume the worst
when making your plans, and nothing can take you unawares. Well, I would expect
the goblins to have some nasty surprise for you. If it looks as if you cannot
counter what that turns out to be, I would think that qualifies,” Rashan said.

“Any ideas what that surprise might be?” Iridan asked.

“No. That is Brannis’s job. He is the mind of the army
now. If I did not think he was up to puzzling it out, I would have to go myself
and risk whatever chaos I might find upon returning to Kadris. Ruling an empire
is a game more complex than chess, and you do not see all the pieces I have to
keep track of.”

“I have known Brannis most of my life. If anyone can
figure it out, he can. I cannot imagine where he thinks of some of the gambits
he tries, but it always seems he is one step ahead,” Iridan said. He had always
been proud to call Brannis a friend. Even when it became clear that Iridan
would become the more powerful sorcerer, he leaned on Brannis to get him
through the harder classes at the Academy.

Rashan just nodded and moved to pull Brannis aside
before they left.

“I am putting a great deal of trust in you, Brannis.
You heard me stake quite a claim against my reputation last night supporting
your takeover of the army. Make good use of it. Get those goblins out of my
empire, by whatever means you must use.

“Just be warned: those green-skinned devils are
smarter than most men. Whatever they have planned, you must counter it, for
they must be counting on the advantage they gain from it to succeed.”

“The reports said that the goblins have some new siege
weapon that obliterated the walls of Illard’s Glen,” Brannis said.

“Yes? And?” Rashan sensed Brannis was on to something.

“I am rather certain that they now have … cannons,”
Brannis said.

He waited for a reaction from Rashan. It was a gambit
that he was not sure of, but if it went poorly, he would just muddle his way
out of it somehow.

Rashan’s face remained a mask. The normally talkative
warlock said nothing for a moment, but studied Brannis.

“I see,” was all he could say to Brannis’s statement.

And from the way he said it, Brannis was not at all
certain just what he meant that he saw.

*
* * * * * * *

The first leg of their journey, still following the
North Road out of Kadris, was somber and brisk. A light snowfall had begun
overnight, and a thin dusting blanketed the countryside. As far south as the
capital of the Empire was, it was unusual to receive the season’s first snow so
late into autumn; the solstice would be in just fourteen days. As they were to
be heading north and west, they could expect to see less of the wintry weather
until they crossed the mountains. The Cloud Wall would shield the eastern
slopes from most precipitation, but the western side, at higher elevations,
would likely have already seen heavy snows.

Brannis called them to a halt when they found a
respite from the curious eyes sharing the road with them. They had just crested
a hill in a lightly forested area on the outskirts of Podawei Wood, which the
road veered northwesterly to avoid entering. Podawei Wood was on House Archon
land, and the road had been blazed in ages long past, during a time when the
emperor and the head of the Archon clan were not seeing things with the same
temper. The wood was a prime hunting ground for elk and caribou, as well as the
much rarer mammoth foxes. It was vast and deep and dark, and even experienced
hunters only ventured so far within its grasp before turning back. The forest
spirits had been driven out of it during the wars that resulted in the Empire’s
founding, but it was commonly believed that some remained hidden away deep
within and were responsible for the disappearances of many a brave huntsman.

Brannis used the tree cover to obscure them from those
to their north, while the bulk of the hill they had crested shielded them from
view to the south.

“I think we have found our opportunity to throw off
any curious pursuers. Time for us to take our leave of the road,” Brannis
called out to his companions.

As Juliana and Ruuglor, who had been leftmost in the
formation, brought their mounts about, Brannis held up a warding hand.

“Wait. We need to have those horseshoes filled with
aether. Rashan said that the horses’ hooves would not be touching the ground
once they gained speed, and if we are careful, we may leave no clue as to where
we left the road.”

“Ruuglor, Faolen, see to it,” Iridan commanded, sitting
back in his saddle with a little smile.

He cast a sidelong glance at Juliana to see if she
showed any sign of appreciating not having been assigned to work on the horses’
shoes.

The two appointed sorcerers exchanged a knowing look
as they dismounted their horses. The beasts were well trained and somewhat
accustomed to the eccentricities of being handled by sorcerers. This included,
among other indignities, grown men crawling around underfoot, fiddling with
their horseshoes and making them tingle. Each shoe had to be touched
individually and aether drawn and deposited within. It was not difficult work,
and most children from homes where magic was common learned to draw aether for
their favorite toys from a young age. But in the case of horseshoes, it was
dirty and unpleasant work, at least for those who preferred feasts and courtly
sitting rooms to stables and the road.

Faolen was nimbler afoot—and crawling around as
well—than his portly associate. He took care of his own mount, then attended to
“Warlock” Iridan’s and Juliana’s horses, all before Ruuglor could finish his
own and Brannis’s.

Ruuglor grunted eloquently as he drew himself up to
his feet after completing his job on Brannis’s mount. “I would bed the lad
myself if it got me out of such work,” Ruuglor muttered beneath his breath,
just loud enough for Brannis to be the only one to hear him.

Brannis managed to keep his chuckle inaudible as he
smiled in response. His back was to the others, and the exchange went
unnoticed.

Once they were all in saddle again, Brannis urged his
horse at a trot along the road. He immediately noticed the effect of the shoes,
as his horse’s strides seemed longer and the scenery began to move past at a
gallop. After the first few steps, the noise of hoof on dirt vanished, and they
rose a handspan above the road. Content that he was no longer leaving a trail
of hoofprints, he veered left and headed off the road.

“Follow as soon as you clear the ground,” Brannis
called back.

The others took off after him, following down the road
until their own mounts managed to get ever so slightly airborne, then heading
westerly after the grand marshal.

The journey quickened once they were all together and
aloft. Their passage was eerily quiet, with the sensation of riding normally
being accompanied by the crash of hoofbeats and theirs marked by little more
than the rush of air as they passed. Brannis had it the worst, with the flutes
and openings in his armor catching the wind and creating all manner of moans
and whistles, while the wool and fur that covered the sorcerers allowed them to
ride largely in peace.

The monolithic pale grey of the snow clouds hid the
sun entirely and looked like it would persist long enough to obscure moon and
stars alike come nightfall. Brannis knew the area well enough for the time
being, but he feared that they might get turned off course if they did not find
better weather by the morrow. At the rate the horses were tearing across the
Kadrin landscape, they would be into the heart of farm country by midday the next
day. It was unfamiliar land to Brannis, too far within the Empire’s borders for
the army to bother with garrisons and too bland to be considered worthy of
visiting for recreation or study; neither the Academy nor the knighthood had
ever shown interest in sending him there.

They kept the pace until shortly after what they
imagined to be high-sun, when Brannis bid them stop for lunch. He watched as
the sorcerers dismounted to see how the morning’s ride had treated them.

Iridan looked stiff and walked awkwardly for his first
few steps after regaining his footing on solid ground. His feet were shoulder
length apart and appeared content to remain so until such time as his muscles
uncramped.

Ruuglor had fared somewhat better. Though he had
trouble mounting and dismounting the horse as a matter of course due to his
girth, he seemed as if he had made use of one before, and after a brief stretch
to work out the kinks in a back ill-treated by the jarring of his ride,
appeared to be none the worse for their morning’s exercise.

Faolen was in a worse state than Iridan even. He
needed assistance to get down and was hardly able to walk without leaning on
Ruuglor’s stout shoulder.

Juliana appeared fine. She dismounted casually and
showed no ill effects from the first leg of their trek. Brannis had once before
underestimated her ability with horses, so he kept a tight rein on his surprise
and settled instead for being rather impressed. The Archon family had large
holdings in the countryside surrounding Kadris, with ample room for horseback
riding where no one would bother you, but it was still a pastime more common
among the less gifted members of the family, and those high-ranking servants
who could afford the luxury in both time and expense to indulge in equestrian
hobbies. Though he had intentionally not kept abreast of her activities, he had
always gotten the impression that Juliana was more at home at court and in the
city than out in the country, riding.

“Let us have our midday meal on the ground, rather
than in the saddle. I know you fellows are unaccustomed to riding, so we will
have an easy day of it today,” Brannis said, rummaging in his saddlebags for
what was essentially going to be a picnic.

“I can ride from the palace to the Academy and back
just fine. This overland travel is a bit much. I prefer a quieter pace for long
times in the saddle,” Iridan said as he began boiling away fresh-fallen snow to
clear a spot for their meal.

“Bah, better to make it quick, I say,” Ruuglor said.
“Certainly there is unpleasantness to go along with any long journey, but if it
must be done, get it over with rather than prolong it. Warlock Rashan said we
could take another whole day off our trip if we press hard.”

“Oh yes, you all look so refreshed after our morning’s
ride that we ought to consider challenging ourselves a bit more,” Juliana
deadpanned, drawing a chuckle from Brannis.

“We still might reclaim that day, if I think we can
manage it,” Brannis said. “But we must be careful of the horses. If we tire
them out, we shall not only be searching out fresh ones, but they will be
unaccustomed to meddling by sorcerers, and we would have to have them reshod as
well. A good smith can make quick work of a reshoeing, but ten horses? That
would be much of a day’s work, even if the new horses do not panic when the
runed shoes begin their work.”

“Just five horses, you mean. We would not have to wait
for these five to be reshod, certainly. We could just leave them with the
stable and instructions to have them returned to the palace stables,” Faolen
said, easing himself down to the now parched spot on the ground that Iridan had
just baked.

“Where do you think they will get those shoes? We may
not need to wait for these to be reshod, but the smith would at least have to
make the time to remove the runed shoes from our horses first,” Brannis said.