The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (70 page)

When they reached the top of the rise, Allowyn pulled his horse to a halt whilst he took in the scene laid out in the river valley. Sansun stopped beside him, and behind he could hear Jarrul curse quietly under his breath. It wasn’t what they were expecting to find, and it definitely wasn’t what they wanted. A moon cycle before, he’d posted two squads of his best men to guard the Deeling Bridge and prevent Borman from crossing there. Whilst the fifty men were a small force they were more than enough to hold the narrow bridge against an army.

If they turned Borman away and forced him to go north to cross the Silver Hills Bridge with the intention of attacking Wallmore from the north, the bridge guards would have plenty of time to warn Wallmore that he was coming. Clearly his plan had worked, as Northshield guards occupied the bridge, whilst a small army spread out on the Essenland side. It wasn’t a very big army, no more than two troops, and so far it appeared that they had made no attempt to take the bridge by force. Of course they could have been keeping the guards at the bridge occupied whilst Borman circled around and came down from the north, but he didn’t think so. Whatever they were doing there though, the armed force was a barrier to them passing so they would have to be removed.

“No Borman,” commented Jonderill.

Allowyn studied the scene and shook his head. There was something definitely not right about it. “No, and they have nothing much else either. They have no wagons with them, just the supplies each man can carry and the shelters they can build. They are clearly not intending to stay here for long.”

“Perhaps they are tending their wounded,” put in Jarrul coming up beside them. “There is at least one man down.”

Allowyn didn’t bother answering. There was something going on here that he didn’t understand, but they weren’t going to find out what that was by sitting there and talking about it. He pushed his horse forward and the rest followed behind. By the time he reached the entrance to the Northshield side of the bridge, he thought he recognised the commander on the other side of the river, although he had no idea what he was doing there. Jonderill recognised him too, so when Allowyn gave the command for their troops to stay in the camp and walked his horse across the bridge, Jonderill was at his side with Jarrul trailing reluctantly behind them.

Malingar watched them approach and prayed to the Goddess that they would have a physic with them. When Sharman collapsed and slid from his horse he’d done his best to make him comfortable, but his friend was as cold as death and their healer had just shook his head and said there was nothing he could do to help. If he thought that Sharman would make it to Wallmore alive, he would have fought his way over the bridge, even if it meant losing half his men. But his friend was too sick to ride and now reinforcements had turned up it was too late; to fight now would kill them all.

He recognised Allowyn before he was half way across the bridge and hoped that the man who rode behind was the healer who used to serve him. What took him by surprise was to see the protector with a black robe and not Callabris. As far as he knew a magician and their protector were paired for life. It didn’t matter though, Allowyn had a reputation for being fair and honourable so at least he would listen before he acted.

Malingar stood and waited, with his hand well away from his sword, until the three riders stopped in front of him, trying hard not to stare at the magician’s missing hands and disbelieving the evidence of his own eyes. The last time he’d seen Jonderill, he was a young white robe just coming into his power, and they had worked together to help Tarraquin escape from Borman. The man who sat so upright on the horse in front of him was very different from the person he remembered.

“Lord Jonderill, Master Allowyn, welcome to our camp.” He bowed to each in turn and then glanced at the man who rode behind them. “Is he your healer?”

Jonderill ignored the question. “What are you doing here, Captain Malingar?”

If it had been possible to ignore the magician he would have done so, but next to a king, they were the most powerful people in the six kingdoms and couldn’t just be brushed aside. “I was returning to my estate on the borders of Northshield and Leersland when one of my men fell sick. We have a healer but he is inexperienced and can do nothing for him. The man is too weak to be moved tonight so we’ll cross the bridge in the morning and ride on to Wallmore and find a physic who can help him.”

“I think not,” put in Allowyn. He knew Malingar from his days at Borman’s court and whilst he wasn’t as vicious as Guardcaptain Rastor, he was still one of the king’s senior officers and that made him the enemy. “The bridge is closed to you and your kind. The new council who now rule in Northshield have decreed that Borman and his lackeys are not welcome there anymore.”

Malingar raised his eyebrows in surprise; Northshield ruled by a council? Now that really would give Borman something to get mad about. “That suits me fine. My men and I have had a falling out with the King and are no longer under Borman’s command. When we have seen to my friend and have resupplied at my estate we are going south to Shipside. I hear there is work for fighting men across the Great Southern Ocean and their skills are appreciated there.”

It was Allowyn’s turn to look surprised. If Malingar was telling the truth, he would be the first man to turn against their Goddess-ordained king since Sarrat took Leersland’s throne from King Malute. Disloyalty wasn’t a quality he admired, even if it did mean Borman had lost a good officer, and he went to say so but the man on the ground, wrapped in several blankets, groaned loudly and distracted him.

Jarrul pushed his horse forward and pointed at him. “What’s wrong with him? It’s not catching is it? I’ve heard that they have the shaking fever in Parim.”

Malingar looked down at his friend who lay with his eyes closed. He was deathly pale and a small amount of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “He’s hurt inside and needs a physic urgently.”

Allowyn looked at the darkening sky and sighed. Callabris would never have just left a sick man to die without trying to do something for his comfort. “Master, this is as good a place as any to camp for the night. We can resupply, rest the horses overnight and our physic can help this man. Then we can move on in the morning after we’ve decided what to do with Captain Malingar and his men.”

Under normal circumstances, Malingar would have made it clear that he decided his own destiny, but Sharman needed help, so he just nodded in agreement. Jonderill nodded too. It would only delay them a candle length or two and Malingar might be able to provide them with information on the movements of Borman’s army and perhaps, where Dozo could be found. If it turned out that they were both in the north, somewhere near the Silver Hills, it would give him a clear road to the Enclave.

He whispered the command for Sansun to kneel and slid off his back whilst the physic was summoned and men hurried around to set up camp. Allowyn directed the guarding of the camp and the enemy, whilst Jarrul started busying himself unloading their bags and erecting a shelter for his master, giving Jonderill the rare opportunity to be on his own for a short while. He set off for the river’s edge and waved Jarrul away when he dropped what he was doing and attempted to follow him.

Jarrul was a good man but he fussed, and he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. This place held memories for him, some of them good like crossing into Northshield with Callabris at his side, and others not so good, like the time he had been beaten and imprisoned by the bridge guards. Both occasions had something in common though; he had been whole then and not the damaged goods he was now. That would all change when he reached the Pillars of the Allkinds and called on their magic to make him as he once was. He was still thinking about the pillars, and staring into the fast-running water when his protector came up behind him. This was as good a time as any to tell him that he would be leaving them in the morning.

“Master, the camp is ready and a meal is prepared.”

“Thank you, Allowyn.” He stopped where he was and Allowyn waited. He knew by now when Jonderill wanted to say something difficult. Callabris had been the same; he had always chosen private moments and had hesitated before he began. “Allowyn, I will be leaving you in the morning to go to the Pillars of the Allkinds alone.”

It took Allowyn by surprise; it wasn’t what he thought Jonderill was going to say. “Then I will go with you.”

Jonderill shook his head, “No, you will go north with the troops, find Dozo and support him against Borman as planned.”

“I cannot do that, master. I am bound by the Goddess to be your protector and I cannot break that pledge.”

This was going to be a lot harder than he had anticipated. “You gave your pledge to protect and obey me. I have no need of your protection, but I do need your obedience. Do you understand?”

Allowyn hesitated as he fought with the conflict of the two sides of his vow. The problem was that he should never have taken the vow in the first place. Instead he should have ended his life when Callabris died, but Jonderill’s dream of having a land ruled by the people had overridden his good sense. He had turned a blind eye to the truth that Jonderill didn’t need his protection so that he could help to turn his dream into reality, but it didn’t mean that his vow to serve the magician meant any less. Never the less he was also bound to obey him, which meant he should do as he was commanded and leave his master, but the decision wasn’t that easy, he would have to think about it and seek the Goddess’s guidance through his devotions.

“I will think on it, master.”

Jonderill scowled. It wasn’t the answer he wanted but it was probably the best he was going to get. “Don’t take too long, the Pillars of the Allkinds call to me and I must answer that call.”

They walked together back to the camp as if nothing had changed between them, Jonderill thinking about the journey to come and Allowyn updating him on their preparations. The sky was heavy with clouds which hid the mountain tops and threatened rain later, but enough shelters had been erected so that everyone could sleep under cover. A dozen fires burned brightly cooking the evening meal and lighting up the area around them. It always amazed him how quickly an open space could be transformed into a noisy but well ordered camp where everyone seemed to know what to do and where to go.

Jonderill took his place by the fire with the air full of the smell of wood smoke and hot stew and his heart sank a little, as it always did, at the thought of having to be spoon-fed like a child. He tried not to let the humiliation show as Jarrul sat beside him with a pot of stew and a spoon, just like a nurse maid with a small child. Allowyn sat on the other side with Malingar opposite them with his sick friend propped up and wrapped in blankets. He still looked sick, but at least he was awake.

“How are you feeling?” asked Jonderill.

“Comfortable, Lord, thanks to the physic.”

He nodded, but didn’t say any more. Allowyn had already told him that the man, Sharman, had the wasting sickness and would be in the embrace of the Goddess by the morning. He turned his attention back to Malingar who, by the look on his face, had also heard the news. “We have cared for your sick and fed your men so I think it’s time for you to return the favour and tell us where Borman is.”

Malingar shrugged. “I have no problem with that. The last I heard he was riding towards the Silver Hills with the crimson robe at his side, the one they call Sadrin. His intention is to hunt down and destroy some rebels who thought they could do a better job of ruling Essenland than a king would. He has over a thousand men with him, so the task shouldn’t be too difficult.

 When he has destroyed them, Borman will declare himself King of Essenland and with yet another kingdom under his thumb, he’s going to lead his army over the Silver Hills Bridge, kill the rebels in Wallmore and take back his throne. It’s a pity really; the idea of the people ruling themselves is one which appeals to me, particularly after being in Borman’s service for so long.”

Both Jonderill and Allowyn looked surprised at the directness of the response. They had expected Malingar to refuse to tell them of Borman’s whereabouts or at least to try and mislead them. “If Borman is going north, why are you going south?”

“As I told you, Borman and I had a falling out.” He wasn’t going to say any more than that, but they all looked at him expectantly. Knowing that he couldn’t refuse them he sighed in resignation and reluctantly continued. “It’s a long story but basically I told Borman a lie in order to save a lady’s life, and not just once, but twice. Now he’s found out that the lady is alive and happily married with a small child.” He gave a bitter laugh. “The fact is that Borman doesn’t take kindly to being lied to, especially when that lie concerns someone as lovely as the Lady Tarraquin.”

“Tarraquin?” exclaimed Jonderill and Jarrul together.

“Yes, Tarraquin. She was once Borman’s property as you know, but escaped and went to Tarbis. When Borman’s war with Tarbis was over, I helped her escape to Vorglave. She must have moved from there to the Enclave, as I am told she now lives there with her husband and child.”

Jarrul shook his head. This was all wrong. “There has to be a mistake, Tarraquin never married, and as for the child, her father was Prince Newn, not some Enclaver.”

“No, it’s you who must be mistaken,” said Malingar. “Sharman heard the High Master tell Borman that she was married and the child’s father is a coin counter who lives in the Enclave.”

Jarrul jumped to his feet and stared at him indignantly. “Then someone is telling you lies. I’ll have you know that with my help Tarraquin tried to escape from the Enclave and I tried to save her life and lost my sweet Birrit for it. They left me for dead, but Tarraquin and Newn’s child were recaptured and taken back to the Enclave where they are the High Master’s prisoners.”

For a moment Malingar said nothing and then he looked accusingly down at Sharman. “What do you know about this?”

Sharman knew when the game was up, not that it mattered now. “I’m sorry, My Lord. I knew if I told you that I had seen the lady and her child given into Borman’s hands that you would do something reckless and try to rescue her, so I told you what I did to save your life.”