The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (33 page)

Mihn stared into Carel’s eyes and then, without warning, wilted.

‘I understand,’ he said quietly. ‘And I apologise. I held my tongue
because there are those who expect great things, or fear them. I should
trust you as he does.’

‘And so?’ replied Carel, a little mollified.

‘And so I believe he is beating magic into that sword. Whether he
recognises it or not, Lord Isak seems to be something of a mage-smith.’

‘How can he not know it?’

‘If he has the skill, it will come naturally - not the complex spells of Eolis, which would take weeks of preparation, but a white-eye’s
version. I’ve heard that mage-smiths go into a near-trance when they
forge. I think Lord Isak is pouring raw magic into the blade to help it last, or be lighter to use. With a mind for forging, and his powers
developing very recently, it’s an unsurprising outcome, but-‘

‘But that’s not what people are likely to think,’ breathed Carel. They’ll see the greatest mage-smith in history, practising his craft
once more.’

‘Exactly. Does Lord Bahl have mages he can trust? Could we summon one to be here? It would be best if it were someone willing to
take any credit if the sword does have any magic in it.’

‘I’m sure there will be. Go and wake Lesarl - he should be able to
organise something like that.’

As Mihn slipped off into the chill darkness, Carel turned back to
the closed door of the forge. The memory of Isak labouring away, his
eyes closed and a smile on his lips, confirmed Mihn’s suspicions in his own mind.

‘Ah, my boy, you’ll be the death of me yet. I should be abed by now.
Instead I’m playing nursemaid and waiting about in the dead of night
for some fat mage.’ He chuckled to himself, pulling his fur tighter
around him and taking slow puffs on his pipe until the night air grew too cold for him and he retreated inside the forge. Isak was as he had
left him, but this time Carel sat closer and paid greater attention. He
still couldn’t make out the words Isak was muttering over that blade,
but they didn’t sound Farlan.

When the old man did finally retire for the night, it was with worry etched into his brow.

Two days later they were ready. The cold heart of winter seemed to
have thawed for a moment, and a rare sparkle of sun had lit up the
previous afternoon when Isak finally emerged from the forge, happily exhausted. Fetching a mage from the College of Magic had turned out to be a real blessing, for Chirialt Dermeness, a strong, fit man of forty
summers, was an authority on magical forging.

The man was not what Isak had expected. Even the battle-mages tended towards the portly, but Dermeness had realised that to be a
mage-smith meant first of all being a capable smith. He himself had
beaten out every piece of Count Vesna’s armour before engraving the
necessary runes into its surface.

Mage Dermeness had, in a brief time, taught Isak much about the
basics of the art. Isak had an image of the end result in his mind, and
the mage had improved the reality. It had taken a full day of engraving, sharpening, sharpening again, and finally detailing with gold-leaf
before the sword was ready. Then Isak had staggered away to sleep
while Tila prepared his baggage and got everything ready to be off the
next morning.

A bright, clear dawn found the Krann and his companions checking over their horses, waiting only for Bahl’s signal to be off. Isak
stood between his two chargers, comfortable there as they hid his size a
little. The smaller, Megenn, was close to eighteen hands in height, t
he second, named Toramin after a famous Farlan warhorse, was a
shade off nineteen. Horses this big were ruinously expensive animals, f
requently produced just to demonstrate a breeder’s skill. Crossing hunter stock with the largest breed of carthorse normally produced one viable charger in a dozen, but both of Isak’s were a horseman’s
dream: incredibly powerful, and swift enough to keep up with hunters half
their size.

Isak felt the eyes of the whole field on him, and the glare of Tila’s
chaperone most pointed among them. Resisting the temptation to
pull on his hood, he busied himself with checking Toramin’s saddle.
He would have to get used to people staring; he’d endure far greater
scrutiny than this in Narkang.

The crash of the doors to the Great Hall drew all heads as the Lord
of the Farlan, hooded, but for once dressed in all his ducal finery, came through, Lesarl at his heels. Bahl’s eagle was emblazoned in white on a
deep-red tunic, the sleeves of which were slashed to reveal the white
silk underneath. Silver embroidery and pearl detailing gave the richly coloured fabrics texture. No one had expected the normally sombrely clad white-eye to make such an effort.

‘Sergeant Carelfolden,’ called the old Lord as he approached. The
veteran stepped up, a quizzical look on his face. Isak was close behind.
Bahl took in the crowd watching with an air of approval before his
eyes settled on Carel.

‘Lesarl reminds me that Narkang is a city of crass foreigners who
respect only rank and wealth. You seem to have neither, so it would
look strange for you to wear the same uniform as the guardsmen you
command when you’re old enough to have fathered most of them. It
would be more fitting if your presence in Isak’s party were justified by
something more than the fact that you’re the only one who can tell
him when to shut up.’

Carel smiled with the rest of the crowd. Bahl had been extremely
impressed when, one evening in Isak’s chamber, Carel had clipped the
youth round the ear for a typically impious comment. The old Lord
had been more impressed that Isak had accepted the chastisement
without even a flicker of anger.

Later he’d told his Krann that his relationship with the old man was
something to be cherished. Bahl had said nothing about the danger it posed; that they both recognised all too well.

‘There’s supposed to be some ceremony for this, but most of it is
unnecessary. I know Isak is keen to be away. Betyn Carelfolden, please
kneel.’

Carel dropped to one knee immediately, his head bowed low, almost hiding the surprise on his face. Bahl reached to his hip and drew White
Lightning. The massive broadsword looked a little incongruous next
to the lush velvets and silks. He lifted the blade and laid it down on
Carel’s right shoulder. The veteran raised his eyes as the blade stayed
there, instead of moving over to his other shoulder, as would happen
with a knighthood. Less than a foot from his eye was one of the spikes
that curved out from the wide base of the blade. It was hard to fight
the prickle of nervousness as that lethal edge sat so close.

‘I don’t believe a mere knight should lead the Krann’s personal guard. Anvee has few enough nobles at the moment, and more than
sufficient land to grant, so I dub you Marshal Carelfolden and confer
upon you the manor of Etinn, together with all its rights and revenues.’

Carel gasped in surprise, as did the crowd looking on. There was a heartbeat of silence as the weight on his shoulder seemed to grow
too heavy and he swayed forward. Then the sword was lifted and the
dragon-liveried guardsmen cheered. Isak reached forward and took
Carel by the arm, making a show of congratulating him as he helped
him up.

‘I-My Lord, I had not-‘ Carel stuttered. The estate of Etinn made him a wealthy man in his own right; it was the last thing he’d
been expecting. ‘I thank you, my Lord. I shall try to be worthy of the
honour.’

Bahl nodded curtly, then turned to Isak. ‘Everything is in order?’
Isak nodded, his eyes darting down to the sword hanging loosely in
Bahl’s hand.

The Lord caught the movement and sheathed the weapon. Isak recognised the twitch on his close-fitting hood as a smile. Their
friendship was not yet so close that either would be comfortable when,
facing each other, one held a naked blade.

‘I think so, though the preparations have all been made for me. Tila
has the letters of introduction, Vesna and I carry the gold, in various
currencies, gems and promissory notes. Lesarl has fully briefed us on agreements and treaties, such as there are.’

‘Good. When you are in Narkang you will be extended as much
credit as you require. Lesarl’s great-grandfather spent many years restoring our treasury; the money is there to be spent if it secures us the
links we need to Narkang. I care about two things: that you don’t start a
war, and that Narkang thinks of us as friends rather than arrogant
neighbours. King Emin is too intelligent a man, and too powerful, for us
to allow that view to continue.’ He kept his voice low so others would not hear the exchange.

Isak followed suit. ‘Understood. I believe Tila intends to teach me
to be charming and witty, in anticipation of the hundreds of social
events we’ll be invited to.’

Bahl gave a snort of amusement. Isak’s vocal disregard of Tirah’s
high society showed little chance of Tila succeeding in that ambition.
‘If you come back charming and witty, I’ll make her a duchess. If I
hear that she’s even managed to stop you from being directly offensive to those you dislike, I’ll give her a state wedding here when she
marries.’

Isak glanced down at Count Vesna. ‘I think there might be a need for that sooner than her parents realise,’ he said with a smile.

‘Really?’ Bahl looked a little surprised; he hadn’t realised the romance had progressed that far. Then she’ll deserve a title just for
getting him under control, let alone you.’

‘He’s smitten, so there’s hope for both of them,’ Isak said fondly.

Bahl’s eyes lingered on the two for a moment longer. ‘They have
your blessing?’

‘They do.’ Isak’s smile showed that he was glad about it; he had not
just accepted the situation. ‘Before, I had-well, this is the best way
for all of us. The battle changed me, and we both realised it as soon
as I returned here.’

Bahl held up his hand. He knew well the lonely life of a white-eye,
and he was glad that the friendships had survived. ‘Very well. Best
be on your way now, for the days are short and you’ve a long way to
travel.’

He turned to his Chief Steward, who had stepped away to afford
them some privacy. ‘Lesarl, give the gifts for King Emin to Count
Vesna, if you would be so kind.’

Isak cocked his head at the long wrapped bundle in Lesarl’s hands.
‘What are they?’ He could feel magic surrounding them, not as powerful as his own gifts, but far from insignificant.

‘Snake-jewels for the Queen of Narkang, and a book for the King. Our man there tells us that King Emin has a passion for history, particularly its darker side. A man I’ve known for many years, one who
could have been High Cardinal, wrote this. Even today he’s a force
inside the cult of Nartis - you’d do well to meet him one day. I believe
King Emin will find this account… diverting.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘Ah,’ Bahl smiled. ‘I’m glad to see your senses are improving. That
was part of Atro’s personal collection. It’s no elven blade, but it is a
fine weapon nonetheless, created by the mage Sorodoch. Have you
heard of him?’

Isak shook his head.

‘An interesting man, one of only a rare few Chetse mage-smiths. I
assumed you would have read the histories of forging we have in the
library. No matter; when you return. He was a talented smith who
produced minor weapons, but they last well and are dependable. This
is an axe, called Darklight in the Chetse dialect. It will make our friendship clear to King Emin, while not being powerful enough to put you in danger from him. I suggest you leave it alone, though. It
might be little compared to Eolis, but we do get attached so easily.’
Isak nodded. The stories about Atro were ample warning.
‘Enough of this.’ Bahl held out an arm that Isak took willingly, gripping the man’s wrist warmly as the old Lord clapped a fatherly hand
on to his Krann’s shoulder. ‘Return when you will. Best to winter in Narkang and set out again a year from now, I think. You know the
kind of stories you might hear from home, so make it clear how long
you intend to stay and show to the whole Land that we’re united.’

Isak held on to the man’s arm a moment longer, acknowledging
that he understood the trust Bahl was placing in him. With the clan
destine campaign Bahl and his Chief Steward had already embarked
upon, letting the Krann out of his sight showed a great degree of faith - the count had explained how easy it would be for Isak to start a civil
war once free of the Lord’s watchful gaze.

Isak saw a flicker of understanding in Bahl’s eyes and smiled. ‘There
is just one more thing,’ he said, and turned back to the newly made
Marshal Carelfolden of Etinn. He beckoned to a page standing at the
side, who brought over a curved sabre sheathed in a plain leather
scabbard.

‘Marshal,’ he said to Carel, taking the sword from its sheath and
presenting it hilt-first, ‘it is only fitting that your new rank is marked with a new weapon.’ He grinned and said, so quietly that only Carel could hear, ‘And I tried to temper it the way you tempered me!’

The joke relieved the high tension and Carel smiled proudly as he
accepted the sword a misty shine like smoke wreathing the blade.

‘Boy,’ he said softly, ‘this is the greater honour.’ Then, to the watching crowd, ‘I will wield it in your name, and the name of the Lord of
the Farlan, and of our God Nartis.’ He bowed low and backed away,
returning to Isak’s waiting group.

Isak turned back to Bahl, relieved to see the old Lord’s smile of approbation. They gripped wrists firmly one last time, then Isak bowed
low and backed away.

The rest of his company did likewise, and then mounted at Isak’s
cue. They cut a fine sight, the colours of their new livery bright in the
cloud-filtered sunlight. Isak stroked Toramin’s mane, then raised his arm
to signal the advance. He sat tall and proud, his white cape draped over
his shoulders. Though the battle’s mud and gore had been cleaned off
long ago, this was the first time Isak had worn it since - he had insisted
that the cloak be repaired instead of replaced, to remind him always of
a creature that was little more than burning bloodlust made flesh.

He looked around at the smiling faces. Mihn rode just behind, his face as guarded as ever, but Isak had grown used to that. The man
didn’t seem to be brooding, but he was among strangers, and he knew
well how much interest there was in him. The onlookers smiled as they waved last goodbyes, and the mood of optimism and cheer extended even to the horses as they pranced after Isak.