The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (72 page)

They were still arguing when a brilliant flash of light lit up the heavy grey sky, startling them into silence. As one they turned towards the source of the light, and the distant noise of screams and clashing blades carried to them on the breeze from beyond the next ridge.

“I think the time for arguing and debate is over. We seem to have found both Dozo and Borman,” commented Malingar bitterly as he walked back to join them. “And if Dozo’s band of supporters are as small as Jarrul says, then I expect they are doomed, magician. That’s if you intend to just walk away and leave them to their fate?” He turned away ignoring Jonderill’s angry glare. “Are you coming, Allowyn, or are you going to follow this excuse of a man like a cringing hound?”

Allowyn hesitated, torn between friendship and duty. Dozo was his friend but he couldn’t leave his master unprotected. “Not without Jonderill.” Malingar gave a snort of disgust and continued walking towards where his men were mounted and waiting. “Master, please. Dozo is a friend and Borman is your enemy.”

That was true, Borman was his enemy, but the pillars were calling to him. Another flash of light lit up the sky and brought back the memory of Sadrin annihilating a troop of soldiers as if their lives meant nothing to him. If his friends were going to survive, they needed his help, but he had to go, he had more important things to do.

“You cannot go with them, Jonderill.” interrupted Jarrul urgently. “Allowyn cannot expect you to fight, you are a cripple.”

It was all the prompting he needed to make up his mind for him. The pillars could wait. He called to Sansun and was mounted before Allowyn reached his horse.

Away from the screams and the stench of dying men, Borman watched the proceedings with satisfaction. The last time Northshield’s troops had been in battle he had led from the front, which had been a most unpleasant experience. It was so much better to watch and command from a safe distance than to be part of the screaming mob with weapons flashing around your head, even if you were winning. Of course he always knew they were going to win, especially after his magician had incinerated the first wave of riders putting the odds even further in his favour. So now all he had to do was sit back and enjoy the spectacle of his men slaughtering the peasants.

He had been surprised at the number of women amongst them, which reminded him of the time he’d fought with the raiders from across the Great Northern Sea, whose women had been particularly ferocious. With that in mind he’d given orders for as many of them as possible to be taken alive. It would cost him a few more men but it would be worth it, taking a woman who had just fought and lost a battle was always exciting, and you could do so much more with them than some girl who had family or friends to complain afterwards.

Borman glanced at the magician beside him and gave him a broad grin. He had offered to share a few of the captives with Sadrin, but he had just shaken his head, which was a pity. There were so many interesting and different things you could do with women prisoners when there were two of you. The boy looked decidedly sick, probably because he’d never seen a battle before, although why he should be bothered about a bit of blood was a mystery. Sadrin had shown no qualms at blasting the front riders away, or picking off the ones at the back who had tried to retreat and turning them into flaming torches.

There again magicians were an odd bunch. Callabris had always been very picky about what he would do. So far, Sadrin hadn’t refused to do anything, but declining his offer to join in the fun with the women prisoners after the battle was definitely not a good sign. He’d told him that the women would be chained so they couldn’t fight back, but that didn’t seem to help either. Perhaps he preferred boys, but if he did so, he would have to wait until they tracked down and destroyed the villages, there would be plenty of young boys for them both then.

With that pleasant thought in his mind, he turned his attention back to the battle which was coming to a climax. It looked like the last of the rebels had joined in and were about to be surrounded by his troops who outnumbered them three to one. He could offer them the chance to surrender, but what did you do with a lot of rebellious peasants? No, the women would be enough. Some of them had already been separated out and he could feel his manhood rise in anticipation.

He stood in his stirrups to ease himself and then sat back down again in shock as a large group of riders poured over the southern lip of the valley and charged the rear of his fighting men. There were not enough of them to call it an army, but unlike the peasants, they were armed with bolt bows and knew what they were doing. He cursed as he recognised the leader of this new force, and then cursed again as he caught a glimpse of a black magician watching the battle from the far hillside protected by a circle of guards. Even if his rear ranks turned around now to face the new threat they were going to be slaughtered.

“Do something!” he yelled at his magician.

Sadrin pulled himself from the doze he’d slipped into and tried to make sense of what was happening on the battlefield, but he was confused and his eyes wouldn’t focus properly. He pushed his horse a couple of paces forward and raised his hands but couldn’t think what to do next.

“There, you idiot!” Sadrin blinked to clear his mind and Borman came up behind him and clipped him hard around the ear. “Kill them all!”

His ear stung but the pain helped him to concentrate. He focused on the troops which had just arrived, held up both hands and released his power, gasping at the unexpected pain and sickness which swept through his body. The blinding light flashed down the hillside, vaporising grass and welding stone together, and then smashed into an invisible wall with a crash like a collapsing house which forced the white hot flames higher than a weiswald tree.

Jonderill had anticipated the moment well and held the wall against the inferno with all the magic and will that he had. Despite that, the wall still bent dangerously inwards, so that those closest to the centre could feel the intense heat of Sadrin’s flames. The wall held until the last of the flames had died away and then collapsed. Jonderill slumped in his saddle, dizzy and exhausted whilst the guards Allowyn had left to protect him milled around him, shocked by the awesome display of power. Beneath them, on the valley floor, the two confused armies disengaged.

On the opposite hillside Borman screamed in anger. What was the point of having a magician if his power could be blocked so easily? He grabbed Sadrin by the shoulder and hauled him up in his saddle. “Again, damn you! Do it again!”

Sadrin could barely hold himself upright, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He wore the crimson, and that made him the most powerful magician in the six kingdoms. Taking a deep breath he held out his hands and released his power once more. The backlash was so strong that it somersaulted him off the back of his horse and into unconsciousness whilst the flames shot from his hands in a wide arc as he fell.

On the valley floor both armies turned and looked in horror as the flames swept indiscriminately towards them but the sheet of fire burnt and sizzled and faded away to nothing before it reached the battlefield. That was enough though. It didn’t matter for which side they fought. Every man there had seen the power of the two magicians and lost the stomach to fight on.

As the first of his retreating men reached him, Borman ordered the prone magician to be lifted from the ground and thrown over his horse. There was no point hanging around, Sadrin was out of the battle and his men had lost their nerve and were withdrawing. By the look on their faces it would take a day or two for them to get their courage back again. In the meantime, he might as well enjoy the comfort and pleasures that the Enclave could offer; it was the least the boy could do after losing the battle for him.

Angrily he turned his horse and started back towards the Enclave when a new thought entered his mind. He needed to find out who the black robe was. If he was more powerful than Sadrin, then he should be aligned to a king and not a traitorous lord and a bunch of peasants. For that to happen he would need something to entice the magician into changing sides, and then something else to bind the magician to him. He didn’t know what that something was, but even magicians had their price, the trick was finding what it was they valued.

Some wanted power or status, and some had more carnal appetites and wanted untried boys or beautiful women. It was a pity the battle had ended in stalemate, otherwise there would have been plenty of women to entertain them both. As it was, his cowardly troops had let the captives go when they withdrew. Still there was always Tarraquin waiting back at the Enclave, and his manhood stirred in response. She was too good for some magic worker, but she would do for him. He’d enjoyed her in the past and he was sure he would do so again without too much effort on his part. Even if he didn’t, he could use her to make that traitor, Malingar, as jealous as hellden’s lord.

Sleeping in a soft bed and lording it over the Enclave would be an enjoyable experience whilst he waited for Sadrin to recover. Then he would take every man who could hold a sword from the Enclave, find the rebels and kill every one of them. After all, they had nowhere else to go.

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CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

The Pillars of the Allkinds

Looking around his austere room Borman realised why he’d never bothered to visit the Enclave before. His room was small with only a single table, an old dresser and half a dozen soft chairs, and had no decoration apart from a couple of wall-length tapestries and a richly patterned carpet. Even that was better than the sleeping room which had no decoration at all, and the lumpiest mattress he’d ever had the misfortune to sleep on. If it hadn’t been for the flagon of fine Vinmore red and the blazing fire it wouldn’t have done at all.

Still, the place did have some compensations; the two acolytes who had been offered to him were young and pleasing to the eye. The girl had been somewhat rigid and inexperienced, but the boy had clearly entertained guests before and had presented himself to allow the utmost enjoyment. It had been a pleasant experience and he’d enjoyed the exercise, even if the boy did look a little put out when he used him for a second time.

Now he was waiting for Sadrin. The magician had spent most of the two day journey back to the Enclave unconscious or slumped over his horse, although he did come to his senses as the city came in sight. Since then he’d been running errands and arranging things. There was a lot to be done. Not only did suitable quarters have to be found for him, which had involved moving a disgruntled grey robe called Tressing from his rooms, but there were also the men to accommodate and feed, their horses to stable and their gear to repair or replace.

That was only the start; he had no intention of being trapped in this place by a bunch of peasants. He had already ordered Sadrin to conscript every armsman, temple guard and worker who could hold a sword into his army. It was a pity that most of the workers only knew how to make blades and not how to use them, but it was the numbers which counted. When that traitor, Malingar and his band of peasants and rebels had licked their wounds sufficiently and wanted to resume the fight, he intended to outnumber them at least ten to one.

He poured himself another goblet of wine and then looked up as Sadrin entered. It was an irritating habit, coming into his presence without his permission, and he would have to deal with it when the time was right, but not now. Now he needed the boy’s cooperation, so he stood, poured the magician a small goblet of wine and smiled benignly at him as he handed the wine over. “Are you feeling better, Master Sadrin? You have some more colour in your face now.”

Sadrin nodded but didn’t have time to say anything before the King continued. “That’s good because we really do need to talk about what happened out there.” He retook his seat in a high-backed chair, but didn’t offer a seat to the magician. “You know I was really disappointed with your performance when we were under threat from the rebels. It’s not that you lack power. On the contrary your display was spectacular, but just so wasteful. What you lack is control, and if we are to work in partnership, then you need to learn to control your gift, and quickly. If you keep burning out like that you are of no use to me. Now go and practice until you get it right.”

He waved Sadrin away and took another sip of his wine ignoring the hurt look on the magician’s face. “Oh, and Sadrin,” the magician stopped with his hand on the door latch. “Fetch Tarraquin for me, there’s a good boy. It’s time she and I had a little talk.”

Borman watched the magician leave and shook his head. Compared to Callabris, Sadrin was a child, inexperienced and naive. There was no denying however, that when it was working as it should, his power was formidable. With guidance and a firm hand he might make something of him. If not, there was always the black robe he’d caught a glimpse of. Now he would be an asset. Perhaps he could be persuaded to change sides?

That was a problem for another time and would have to wait. Now he had to deal with Tarraquin. It had been a long time since he’d bedded her and he would do so again, but for the moment, he still had the sweet memory of the young acolyte’s smooth buttocks pressing against his groin in his thoughts. No, what he needed now was to decide how best to use her to get what he wanted.

There was a knock on the door and two temple guards escorted Tarraquin into the room and then left. He ran his eyes over her body and felt his manhood rise despite his present preference. She was still beautiful despite the simple woollen dress she wore and the baby she carried. It was annoying that she had brought the brat with her, but on the other hand he might be able to use it as a lever for her good behaviour and her cooperation.

“Tarraquin, my dear, how good to see you again. It has been too long.” He waved her to a chair and waited for her to be seated before he stood and wandered to her side, pulling back the baby’s wrap to reveal its sleeping features. “Um, nice, if you care for that sort of thing.” He turned away and retook his chair.