Soul of Sorcery (Book 5) (27 page)

He had the satisfaction of seeing the horror on Athanaric’s face before the hrould died. 

Ragnachar kicked the corpse from his blade and turned back to the square. Silence had fallen, and the orcragars stood over the corpses of the slain. 

“Has anyone survived?” he bellowed.

“This one, master!” said an orcragar. “The Guardian let lives.”

This would be sweet. 

He walked to Aegidia and gazed down at her. She was still alive, but not for long. The sword of the Destroyer had left hideous gaping wounds in her back and stomach, and she lay in a pool of her own blood. Not even the Guardian’s magic could save her now.

She might not even be conscious. 

Nevertheless, he gripped her white hair and pulled her up. 

“You failed, old fool,” he hissed. “You tried to stop me, and you failed. Think on that as you die.”

He threw her back the ground and turned away.

“Come,” he ordered his orcragars, and they fell in behind him. 

It was a short march to the nearest village, the hold of one of Athanaric’s headmen, a man named Vigoric. A crowd gathered as they approached the village, and Ragnachar saw that Vigoric’s men had armed themselves, no doubt anticipating an attack.

“What do you want, Ragnachar?” said Vigoric himself, a lean man in his forties. “We wish no conflict with you! Why have you come here?”

“I come with grave tidings,” said Ragnachar. “Athanaric is slain.”

A ripple of shock went through the assembled Tervingi. 

“Lord Richard treacherously murdered him,” said Ragnachar. “I arrived too late to save Athanaric, though I avenged his death. Now Toraine is liege of the Grim Marches, and he will try to destroy the Tervingi. We must act quickly! Send messages to every Tervingi hold and village, urging them to arm themselves at once! If we tarry, Toraine shall slaughter us all to the last child!”

And how the fools ran to carry out his bidding.

###

Riothamus’s eyes swam back into focus. 

He lay upon his back, the sun beating down on him, the dead orcragar pinning him to the ground. The wounds in his side and hip burned with pain. He vaguely wondered why he had not bled to death, and he felt at his side, wincing. The cuts were long and messy, but not as deep as he had feared. Riothamus muttered a spell, forcing the elements of water and air over his wounds. With luck, that would keep infection at bay until him…

Until…

The memory of the attack came back.

Riothamus tried to shove the dead orcragar off him. On the fourth try, he managed to push aside the corpse, and staggered to his feet. He almost fell, and grabbed at the nearby stone wall for support.

It was hot. 

And not just from the sun.

Stone Tower burned. 

Flames leapt from the roof of every house, and smoke billowed from the windows of the keep. Scores of bodies lay strewn across the square. Riothamus saw Lord Richard’s household knights and Athanaric’s thains heaped among the dead. Athanaric slumped against the wall, eyes glassy. Lord Richard’s head and body lay some distance apart from each other. 

For a horrible instant Riothamus was six years old again, standing in his father’s burning hold, fleeing as the Malrags came to kill him…

“The Guardian,” coughed Riothamus, wincing as the stench of blood and torn flesh and smoke filled his nostrils. “Guardian. Guardian!”

He limped through the square, looking over the corpses. How could Ragnachar have taken them unawares? His orcragars had simply appeared out of nowhere. The Guardian should have sensed them. How…

He came to a stop.

Aegidia lay in her own blood, hands still wrapped around her staff. Riothamus fell to his knees beside her, pain shooting through his wounds. Ragnachar’s burning sword had left hideous wounds in her stomach and back. A strong young man could not recover from such an injury. An old woman had no chance…

Her eyelids fluttered.

She was still alive.

“Riothamus,” she rasped.

“Guardian,” he said, grabbing her hands. “I have to move you. There must still be an intact house. Then I can…”

Her fingers tightened against his. “No. Too late for me.”

“You cannot die,” said Riothamus. “The Tervingi need you. Someone must warn them against Ragnachar.” Just as Molly had feared, Ragnachar had killed Lord Richard and Athanaric and restarted the war. No doubt he would lay the blame for Athanaric’s death at Richard’s feet. But Ragnachar’s word would not stand against that of the Guardian.

“They need the Guardian,” said Aegidia, her voice growing fainter. “You.”

She pushed the staff against him. 

“Take it,” she whispered. “Take it.” 

“No,” said Riothamus. “It’s yours. I…”

“Take it!”

His hands closed around the ancient wood. The staff felt rough beneath his grip, the edges of the sigils digging into his palm. 

“Take it,” said Aegidia. “Guardian. The staff is yours. You must…you must face yourself, before you can wield it, and see the truth. Tell the others what happened. Aid Lord Mazael. Aid him! The fate of the Tervingi is in his hands. And the world. Go. You are Guardian. The burden is yours now.”

Riothamus managed a nod. 

“I am.” Aegidia’s eyelids began to close. “I am…sorry. It is my fault, Riothamus. Ragnachar is my fault. I shouldn’t have listened to him. I am sorry, I am so sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” said Riothamus.

Aegidia slumped against the ground, her half-open eyes gazing at the harsh blue sky. 

Riothamus stared at her for a long time. 

Then he bent his head and wept.

###

Night had almost fallen by the time Riothamus hobbled away from Stone Tower, leaning upon the staff of the Guardian.

His staff. 

He paused for a moment, his head swimming. He had cleaned, stitched, and bandaged his cuts, but his wounds still throbbed, and every step was agony. He needed to find someplace to rest.

But where could he go?

There was another Tervingi village a few hours north, the hold of Vigoric, one of Athanaric’s headmen. Yet Ragnachar must have gone there after killing everyone in Stone Tower, and he would kill Riothamus on sight. Lord Mazael was still at Swordgrim, but Castle Cravenlock was only a day’s walk away, and Molly was there.

Assuming he could make it that far before he collapsed.

Riothamus started walking.

###

The sun hammered upon his head.

Riothamus took a step, and then another. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes. His shoulder and hip felt like balls of burning metal.

Another step. 

He thought Castle Cravenlock was near. Or was it? He had walked all night, pausing only to eat and drink the little food and water he had scavenged from Stone Tower. He should be drawing closer to the castle.

Or he had gotten lost.

Or he lay dying in Stone Tower, and this was only a hallucination. Perhaps it would be better to and rest, just rest for only a few minutes…

Riothamus growled and took another step. 

No. If he lay down, he would not get back up again. He had to warn the Tervingi of Ragnachar’s treachery. 

He had to see Molly again. 

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a pillar of darkness swirled before him, and Molly Cravenlock appeared. She wore leather armor and a dark cloak, her sword and dagger in hand. Her gray eyes were cold and cautious, but they widened when she saw him.

“Ah,” croaked Riothamus. “I am hallucinating.”

“Gods and devils!” Molly rammed her weapons into their sheaths and ran to him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Stone Tower is a corpse-choked ruin, and the Tervingi have gone berserk. What happened?”

Riothamus wondered how Molly had gotten to Stone Tower and back so quickly. Then he remembered her shadow-walking ability. 

“Ragnachar,” croaked Riothamus, as Molly looked over his wounds. “His orcragars entered Stone Tower unseen, I don’t know how. He killed both Athanaric and Lord Richard,” his voice caught, “and Aegidia.”

“Gods,” whispered Molly, and she caught him in a fierce hug. “I’m sorry. But I am glad you are safe.”

“None of us are safe,” said Riothamus. “Ragnachar will blame Lord Richard for Athanaric’s murder, and the Tervingi will rise up. And Toraine is eager to destroy us anyway. His father’s death will give him the excuse he needs” 

“We’ll deal with Ragnachar,” said Molly, voice hard. “But we’re getting you to safety, first.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and stepped back into the shadows, taking him with her.

Chapter 26 - Call to Arms

Chaos reigned in Swordgrim’s great hall. 

“It is confirmed, my lords,” said Sir Tanam, his voice heavy with sorrow. “Lord Richard was slain at Stone Tower.”

“Gods damn it,” whispered Mazael.

An uproar rose from the assembled lords and knights of the Grim Marches, and some wept openly. Richard Mandragon had been the liege lord of the Grim Marches for over twenty years, and had led his vassals to victory after victory. 

“What happened?” called a minor lord. “Who slew our liege?”

“The Tervingi,” said Tanam, shaking his head. He stood on the dais, at the right hand of Toraine Mandragon. “From what we can tell, Ragnachar attacked Lord Richard and Lord Athanaric as they renewed their oaths, and left no survivors behind. One of Lord Astor’s household knights, Sir Morgaunt, passed Stone Tower on his way to Hawk’s Reach. He rode with haste to Swordgrim once he realized what had happened.”

“As well he should have,” said Toraine.

“For a man who just lost his father,” said Romaria into Mazael’s ear, voice low, “he doesn’t seem that distressed.”

Indeed he did not. Toraine Mandragon was the picture of calm, clad in his dark armor, his sword ready in his belt. Mazael doubted that Toraine mourned his father overmuch. But Toraine's calm surprised him, and alarmed him.

The gods only knew what he would do next.

“Tervingi warbands attacked Sir Morgaunt twice on his way to Swordgrim,” said Tanam. “We've received other reports of Tervingi warbands rampaging across the countryside, attacking both villages and travelers. And we have all seen the griffins ranging through the sky. My lords, the Tervingi have risen up under Ragnachar, and seek to make war upon us.”

“Why?” said Mazael. The gaze of the lords turned toward him. Toraine’s eyes were like black disks of stone. “Why would the Tervingi follow Ragnachar after he murdered Athanaric in his own hold? They regard murdering a man under his own roof as the most heinous crime, and would refuse to follow any man guilty of it.” 

Toraine shrugged. “Does it matter? The barbarians are savage and irrational, and their ways are strange to civilized men. Perhaps Ragnachar promised them gold and plunder, and they chose to follow. Or perhaps they decided to insult my late father and throw his generosity back into his face.”

“It is baffling,” said Lord Robert Highgate, his thick face dark with a scowl. “The Tervingi I have spoken with had their own peculiar sense of honor. For them to murder Lord Richard and one of their own hroulds was most bizarre.”

“Bizarre or not,” said Tanam, “the Tervingi are attacking us, my lords.” 

“We must act,” said Toraine. 

Romaria’s hand squeezed Mazael’s beneath the table, and he looked at her in surprise.

“Be ready,” she hissed. “He’s going to try something, I think.”

“My father ruled the Grim Marches for twenty years,” said Toraine, “and under his guiding hand we defeated any threat. The Malrags. The Justiciar Order.” His dark eyes fell on Mazael. “Lord Mazael’s own father and brother, when they turned to the worship of the San-keth.”

Mazael said nothing.

“We must have unity to defeat the barbarians,” said Toraine. “My lords, my noble father is dead. I am his heir, and I am now the Lord of Swordgrim and the liege lord of the Grim Marches. Follow me, serve me as you served my father, and I swear that the barbarians shall pay for what they have done!” 

The lords and the knights roared their approval, and Mazael found himself wanting to cheer with them. His Demonsouled blood surged with excitement at the thought of battle. He could ride through the Tervingi as he had at the battle of Stone Tower, killing every Tervingi in his path…

No. He would not succumb to his rage. How would the Old Demon make use of renewed war in the Grim Marches?

Or how would Lucan make use of it? He had never expressed any interest titles, but if Toraine died now, Lucan would become the Grim Marches' new liege lord. 

“And to remain unified,” said Toraine, “we must purge the traitors in our midst.”

“Here it comes,” whispered Romaria.

Toraine drew his sword and pointed it at Mazael. “My lords, I demand that you arrest Mazael Cravenlock for treason and strip him of his titles and lands!” 

Dead silence answered his pronouncement.

Mazael stood and stepped away from the table, his hand on Lion’s hilt.

“My lord Toraine,” said Tanam, “surely you cannot be serious.”

“I am deadly serious,” said Toraine, walking to the edge of the dais. “Arrest him!”

“On what basis?” said Mazael. “What treasons have I committed? I never betrayed Lord Richard or plotted with his foes.”

A rumble of agreement went through many of the lords, and Romaria got to her feet beside him. Mazael glanced at the doors, his mind racing. If it came to violence, he might be able to cut his way out with her aid. Or he might not – the lords and knights of the Grim Marches were all hardened veterans. Yet if he fought, the Grim Marches would devolve into civil war even as the Tervingi attacked. And if he surrendered, Toraine would almost certainly have him killed. 

His Demonsouled wrath thundered within him, calling for Toraine’s blood.

“What treasons?” said Toraine. “You betrayed my father to the Tervingi!”

“Absurd!” said Mazael.

“All men know how friendly you were with the barbarians!” said Toraine. “We know how your bastard whore of a daughter took the Tervingi sorcerer into her bed. You plotted this from the beginning, to use the Tervingi to exterminate the House of Mandragon, and then claim the liege lordship of the Grim Marches for yourself!” 

“Athanaric was my friend, aye,” said Mazael. “He now lies dead alongside your father.”

“Whose murder you plotted with Ragnachar,” said Toraine.

“Folly,” said Mazael, anger rising in his voice. Gods, how he wanted to draw Lion and take off Toraine’s head! “Can you not see what is happening? Ragnachar saw his chance, and he killed both Lord Richard and Athanaric. No doubt he told the Tervingi that Lord Richard killed Athanaric. Gods, boy, are you so stupid that you cannot see that?” 

Toraine’s eyes narrowed, and Mazael realized that the new Lord of Swordgrim understood perfectly well. He merely wanted an excuse to get rid of Mazael. 

Toraine Mandragon was not the sort of man to let a crisis go to waste.

“And now you insult me?” said Toraine.

“Is it an insult to speak the truth to one’s liege lord?” said Mazael.

“Enough!” said Toraine. “Arrest him!”

Several of Toraine’s armsmen moved forward. Mazael gritted his teeth, bracing himself for action. If he fought his way out, it would cause a civil war. If he submitted to arrest, Toraine would have him killed at the first opportunity. And either way, Romaria was in terrible danger. 

That thought pushed his rage to the trembling limits of his control, and his hand twitched towards Lion’s hilt…

“Stop!” shouted Tanam Crowley.

The armsmen came to a hesitant halt, and Toraine glared at Sir Tanam.

“This is madness,” said Tanam. “The enemy is at our gates, and we fight amongst ourselves? My lord Toraine, if you arrest Mazael, do you think his vassals and knights will meekly bend the knee to you? Do you think his daughter will forgive you? Or will she raise the knights of Castle Cravenlock and make war on you? You will then face two enemies instead of one.” 

“As my vassal, you refuse my commands?” said Toraine.

“As your vassal, I am obliged to provide you with counsel,” said Tanam, unruffled. “I spoke my mind to Lord Richard, and I will do the same with you, my lord.”

“I do not approve of this,” said Lord Robert, getting to his feet. “You cannot strip a lord of his lands and titles on a whim!”

“This is hardly a whim,” said Toraine. “Mazael Cravenlock plotted with the Tervingi to murder my father!”

“Don’t be absurd,” said Robert. “Lord Mazael served your father as faithfully as any man. More faithfully, since he could easily have allied with Lord Malden to overthrow Richard and claim the Grim Marches for himself.” A murmur of agreement went through the hall, and Robert snorted and spat upon the floor. “You just fear he will overthrow you. If you want to have a pissing contest, my lord, do it after the Tervingi have been defeated.” 

“Aye,” said Lord Astor Hawking, standing beside Robert. “If we bicker now, the Tervingi will destroy us one by one.” 

“I agree,” announced Lord Jonaril Mandrake. “Lord Mazael has proven himself a capable captain. We shall need such men, if we are to vanquish the Tervingi.” 

Toraine’s eyes narrowed. If he ordered Mazael arrested, he might well provoke a rift with his principal vassals, who no doubt feared that Toraine would do the same thing to them one day. A liege lord who lost the support of his most powerful vassals would not remain liege lord for long. 

At last Toraine smiled. It only made him look angrier. 

“Very well,” he said. “We must first deal with more important matters. One can hardly drive out the rats while the barn is on fire. Once the barbarians have been smashed, I will deal with those fools who invited them into our lands and insisted that they could be tamed.” 

Toraine's armsmen backed away, and for a moment Mazael had a clear path to the dais. He could draw Lion, take the steps in a quick bound, and cut Toraine’s throat before anyone could stop him…

He forced his hand into a fist, keeping it away from his sword. 

“Our course is clear,” said Toraine. “We must gather our men and march to face the barbarians.”

“That will prove difficult,” said Robert. “Most of our knights have returned to their lands. We have our household knights and our armsmen, but that might not be enough to overcome the Tervingi.”

“Nevertheless,” said Toraine, “we will march to face the barbarians. I will not sit idle as my lands are ravaged. Sir Tanam’s scouts report that the barbarians have broken into warbands. We shall strike the warbands one by one, forcing the barbarians to concentrate their forces. By then our knights will have gathered, and we can smash them.”

“The same strategy,” Robert said, “that Lord Mazael used during the last conflict.” 

Toraine shot him a glare. “Thank you, my lords. Gather your forces, and prepare to march.”

###

“The fool boy is going to get us all killed,” grumbled Lord Robert.

“I find,” said Sir Tanam, “that I cannot disagree.” 

Mazael grunted and swung up into the saddle.

The fields between the walls of Sword Town and Swordgrim milled with activity. Toraine's armsmen equipped themselves with halberdiers and chain mail. Knights climbed into their saddles and took lances and shields from their squires. Archers strapped quivers to their belts and slung them over their shoulders. 

“Toraine is capable enough in battle,” said Mazael. 

“Aye,” said Robert, “and the fool boy will get us all killed in battle.”

“He’s hardly a boy,” said Tanam with a frown. “He’s twenty-seven.”

“Richard was a strong lord,” said Robert, “but he failed to teach his sons to rule. He turned Toraine into a weapon. An effective weapon, aye, but a mere weapon cannot rule the Grim Marches. And Lucan,” his mouth twisted, “he turned into the sort of man who would abduct another man’s wife.”

“I am sorry for that,” said Tanam.

Robert snorted. “Don’t be. She was dutiful enough, but the fool girl never stopped mooning for Lucan. Wouldn’t surprise me if she ran off with him.” He grunted. “Well, with wives, perhaps the third time is the charm.” 

“Lady Tymaen is not the problem,” said Tanam. “Lord Toraine is.” 

“Toraine can defeat the Tervingi,” said Lord Robert. He scowled. “What happens after the battle is what concerns me.” 

“We may not even need to fight the Tervingi,” said Mazael. “If we can convince them that Ragnachar murdered Athanaric, they will turn against him.”

“If we can convince them,” said Tanam, doubt in his voice. 

“If we can convince them,” said Robert, “Lord Toraine is not the man to do it.”

They both looked at him. 

Mazael knew what they wanted of him.

It was what Toraine had always feared, that Mazael would supplant him as liege lord. Mazael did not want it, but the Cravenlocks had once been the liege lords of the Grim Marches. If Toraine failed, if he lost the loyalty of his lords, they would turn to Mazael instead. And Toraine knew that, so he would try to kill Mazael. 

If only the fool understood Mazael had no wish to be liege lord. 

“I will think on what you said,” said Mazael, and turned his horse away.

###

He found Romaria with the militia horse archers, overseeing their work as they prepared quivers of arrows. The men went about their tasks with quiet efficiency, strapping quivers to their saddles and testing their bowstrings. Romaria turned her horse at his approach. She wore leather armor, her black hair pulled back into a braid. The hilt of her bastard sword rose over her shoulder, and both her short horse bow and her Elderborn composite bow hung from her saddle. 

“The men know their tasks,” said Romaria.

“Aye,” said Mazael, voice quiet. Practically every man of fighting age in the Grim Marches was a veteran now. “They’ve had a great deal of practice. Too much practice.”

“Toraine’s going to try to kill you,” said Romaria. 

“I know,” said Mazael. “Neither Lord Robert or Sir Tanam would come out and say it, but if it comes to violence, they will side with me. And I suspect a good many others will. Toraine has no knack for finding friends, but a gift for making enemies.” 

“What will you do?” said Romaria.

“I don’t know,” said Mazael. He lowered his voice. “I want…I want very much to strike first. To kill Toraine before he can kill me. Every drop of my blood screams for me to do it.”

He lowered his head and sighed. 

“But I know,” he said, “what my blood wants me to do is what the Old Demon wants me to do.” He looked back at her. “Is this what the dream meant? That Toraine will kill me?” 

“I don’t know,” said Romaria. “You would be within your rights to strike first.”

“I know,” said Mazael. “But I won’t. I don’t want to be the liege lord of the Grim Marches, Romaria. I didn’t even want to be the Lord of Castle Cravenlock. It was thrust upon me.”