Drogoya: Book 3 Circles of Light series (40 page)

‘It says “master” I am
sure, although the last letter is half erased.’ Then he frowned.
‘That is not a term of address that I have heard here.’

Olam shook his head.
‘Lord, or Lady or Sir. They are the only special terms we use for
those of high rank. One who trains armsmen is known as Master of
Arms; everyone else is called by their own name.’

Gan nodded agreement.
‘There are titles such as Senior, or Discipline Senior among my
people, but not master.’

‘And I do not think it
is used in Vagrantia,’ said Ren. ‘I wish Maressa was here, but I am
sure I am correct.’

‘What about in your
land Ren?’ Tika asked the Offering.

‘We would call someone
“Good Master” as a form of politeness, or if we did not know their
personal name – a farmer, or a baker, for instance. The only master
within the Order of Sedka, is the Master of Aspirants. So why do we
find the word here?’ He brightened. ‘Perhaps we will find something
helpful tomorrow.’

‘What was that place we
found?’ asked Navan, stretching his feet to the fire. ‘Was it a
street or inside a building?’

‘Inside a building.’
Ren’s answer was instant and positive.

‘But it was level, not
tilted or overturned like all those blocks.’

‘The ground may have
just sunk straight down in places, while in others it could have
been thrust up, causing structures above to topple and smash. Any
that sank could likely be well preserved. Which is what I am very
much hoping we will find with this one.’

Maressa and Brin were
on the western slope of a low hill twenty leagues from Far. Brin
had been distraught when he realised that a band of armsmen had
approached close enough to see them clearly before he had even
sensed them. At his urgent warning, Maressa shielded them both,
thickening the air in front of them. But not before arrows had been
loosed and fallen rather close by. Maressa picked one of them up
and scrambled onto Brin’s back. Within the shield of distorted air,
Brin took them south, finding by chance the ravine of which Lord
Seboth had spoken to Lallia. Maressa set wards in the air all
around for a distance of half a league, reckoning that should one
be triggered, it would give Brin time to move them
again.

She feared that Lallia
would already have tried to bespeak her and could imagine the panic
the Lady of Far would feel at not finding her mind signature,
hidden as it was behind the shields. She herself did not dare use
the energy needed to far speak Lallia, and forbade Brin to attempt
it either.

‘But we cannot just sit
here,’ said Brin reasonably. ‘Tika needs those supplies, so we must
try to get them.’

His eyes whirred, the
rosy hue suffused with scarlet gleams. Maressa knew all too well
that Brin was even now thinking what a splendid story this would
make in the telling.

‘Brin, someone in that
group of men has some sense of the power, whether he realises it or
not. That was why they were coming directly towards us. We cannot
give away any hint that we are in friendly contact with the House
of Far. It would place Seboth and Lallia in even greater peril. We
must just wait for a while and hope they go off to search a
different area.’

Brin rumbled but stayed
quietly reclined beside her. She examined the arrow in the light of
the setting sun and frowned as she touched its head.

‘It would appear that
they came expecting to find a Dragon,’ she murmured to Brin’s
mind.

He lowered his head to
peer at the arrow in her hand.

‘A sharp stick does not
put terror into the heart of any Dragon,’ he said
loftily.

Maressa shook her head
at him. ‘The head is not metal, as have been on all the arrows in
this land that I have seen. Look Brin, it is obsidian. It would cut
through even your scales.'

Brin’s eyes flashed in
alarm and he extended his forearm.

‘Show me.’

Very cautiously,
Maressa applied the tip of the arrowhead to the edge of a crimson
scale. A fine sliver fell to the ground.

‘Hmm. So what is your
plan?’ Brin sounded a touch subdued.

‘I can sense nothing
through the shield, but I can go above it, at least long enough to
scan our immediate vicinity. If the armsmen are distant enough, I
will try to reach Lallia.’ She shrugged. ‘It is all I can think of
to do.’

‘I could easily deal
with those few,’ Brin suggested.

Maressa leaned against
his great shoulder. ‘I am sure you could, but let us not hurry to
destroy any lives unless we absolutely have to.’

‘Your plan is quite
good,’ Brin conceded, but Maressa heard the relief in his
tone.

Brin had killed men and
monsters in the northern Stronghold Maressa knew, but she was glad
that he found no pleasure in the prospect of such killing
again.

‘Keep watch on the
shields for me Brin,’ she murmured and sent her mind high into the
darkening sky.

She looked first for
the armsmen who had tried to attack them and found them camped much
further northwards. She sighed with satisfaction: they had chosen
the wrong direction to pursue the Dragon they had glimpsed. Maressa
let her mind rise higher and orientated herself towards Far.
Lallia’s mind crashed into her like a thunderbolt.

‘Oh thank the stars!
Maressa, what has happened – I have been trying to reach you since
mid afternoon?’

Maressa gave the
briefest outline of what had occurred and was jolted again as
Seboth’s thoughts slammed against her.

‘I wanted Lallia to
direct you to the very place you have found,’ he told her. ‘I have
sent three men with pack animals loaded with your supplies. They
should reach you by midday tomorrow. Maressa, when you have the
supplies, please, please, get away from here as swiftly as you can.
And Maressa, Hargon’s eyes are frightening – could he have this
affliction of which you spoke to us?’

Maressa felt ice form
in her veins. ‘No Seboth, something a thousand times worse. Do not
attempt to go near him now. Do you understand me?’

She felt confusion and
frustration through the mind link and repeated her
demand.

‘You must leave Hargon
to those who are better fitted to fight what he has become. Seboth,
I can tell you no more, but for stars’ sake, keep well away from
the man. Lallia, if it is safe, I will bespeak you when we leave
here, but know now that you have our grateful thanks for your
generosity. May the stars guard your hearts and your lives my
dears.’

Maressa broke the mind
link, slumping against Brin as she returned to her body.

‘I saw what you saw,’
Brin said gently. ‘Sleep, while I keep watch. I think it matters
not if the shields should fail while you regain your strength –
those men are not close enough to worry us. I will waken you at the
least alarm.’

Maressa reached for her
cloak lying across her empty pack and wrapped it around her
suddenly chilled body.

‘I fear I shall have to
sleep for a while at least, but do not delay in waking me Brin, if
anything alerts you.’

She was asleep even as
she slid down to the ground and Brin curved himself around her
protectively.

Hargon had broken free
of Seboth’s too thinly spread armsmen and despite heavy losses he
still had two hundred men at his back. He rode fast to Tagria, his
eyes blazing with rage at Seboth’s defiance. The fool could not see
how perilous a state these lands were in: those whose veins held
traces of the old blood had increased too fast in even the last
generation. Left alone, they would again become the scourge their
ancestors had been.

A tiny fragment of Lord
Hargon’s mind understood that something encroached upon his very
being and urged him to acts that he would not have contemplated
even two ten days ago. Whatever it was that seemed to be
influencing him, appealed to those very opinions Hargon already
held regarding those with the old blood, those able to use the evil
magics and, to his great disappointment, even the magnificent
Dragons had become corrupted and thus would need to be
eliminated.

Magic, magic, magic.
The word rang in Hargon’s head, increasing his fury. They had begun
calling it “the power” in his father’s time. As if changing the
word would change its meaning! The power was still the filthy
manipulation of honest life which was properly called
magic.

M’Raz chortled within
Hargon’s mind. What a gullible fool this creature was, believing
only what he wished to believe. M’Raz had simply encouraged his
obsession against the use of magic, and look what had happened
already! A few elemental beings had clung about M’Raz when he was
freed at last from that cursed Void, and it had amused him to let
them accompany him here. They had their uses, although half had
been lost somehow, far to the west. He would have to investigate
that occurrence shortly. But for now, M’Raz sat back and watched
Hargon’s mind collapse on itself. He was going to somewhere called
Tagria and a patterned circle kept appearing in his thoughts. M’Raz
had no idea what the circle might signify but he was content to let
Hargon choose the way, for now.

Beside Hargon rode
Trib. The brash young man was white faced with both exhaustion and
fear. When Lord Seboth’s men had attacked them at the way station,
Trib had cut down the first men he encountered. Exhilaration filled
him when he found how easy real fighting had turned out to be. Then
he discovered that he had advanced too far and was a good fifteen
paces in front of the line of armsmen. Exhilaration became panic as
he hurriedly tried to move back to their supporting ranks, and he
realised that the men harboured no protective feelings towards
their newly appointed Armschief.

Time passed in a blur
and it felt as though he was trying to lift ten swords rather than
one, his own had become so very heavy. Men fell around him and it
was only when he nearly dropped the dagger in his left hand that he
found he had been wounded. Then Hargon was among them and after one
glance at the Lord of Return, Trib kept his eyes on the armsmen
still pouring out of the darkness in front of him. His body was
drenched in sweat and blood, of which some was his own, although
most was others’, but he felt icy cold.

Hargon’s face was
twisted in a snarl, more bestial than human. And his eyes were
living flames. One look had been sufficient for Trib to know that
he had made a dreadful mistake. His first doubts had arisen when
Fryss and Tarin had remained in Far. He knew Tarin’s reputation: a
veteran of the last Ganger Wars and devoted to the House of Return.
In the barracks, Tarin would allow no slur, no jest, to be made
against either the House or its present Lord. For Tarin to abandon
Return, Trib knew there would need to be the most convincing of
reasons. Having seen Hargon’s face, even in the near darkness, and
so briefly, Trib knew that Tarin had the right of it.

But Hargon had ordered
three quarters of his surviving armsmen to mount and ride with him
for Tagria. The rest were to die delaying Seboth’s pursuit,
although Trib believed they would yield to Far the moment Hargon
was gone. Trib offered to remain with those few commanded to die
allowing Hargon’s escape but Hargon had turned his awful face to
Trib once more.

He smiled, which put
more fear into Trib’s heart than he would ever have believed
possible – as if he knew that Trib would throw down his sword as
soon as Hargon had ridden off.

‘You ride at my side
Armschief. You are too valuable to die with the dogs.’

Trib scrambled silently
onto the konina held for him by an armsman and kicked it alongside
Lord Hargon. And thus they rode, the body of men already tired from
fierce fighting and now faced with a long gallop to Tagria. And
apparently, yet another battle once they arrived there.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

‘But how, how, could
the child see me?’ Finn Rah’s voice was a husky whisper.

Arryol and Sarryen had
spent the night working over the Offering’s suddenly feverish body.
Her temperature had risen alarmingly after her mind returned from
far seeking in the Menedula, and spasm after spasm of coughing had
wracked her. Arryol sent Soosha away to bed: he was barely
recovered himself and Arryol argued that he did not need two
serious cases to deal with. Now, hearing Finn Rah’s question yet
again, Arryol sighed.

‘You have asked that
every time you have enough breath to do so throughout this night,’
he said mildly. ‘And we do not have an answer now, anymore than the
first time you asked it.’

Finn turned her head
against the high pillows.

‘But it is impossible.
Minds can be aware of other minds far speaking, but she SAW me.’
She twisted her head irritably away from Arryol’s hand.

‘Finn Rah,’ he spoke
sharply. ‘You are behaving worse than any child I have treated.
Surely you have not forgotten every piece of plain good manners
since you were elevated to Offering? As your healer, I expect you
to do as you are asked and stop acting like a petulant
brat.’

Sarryen did not dare
look at either Finn or Arryol, busying herself building up the
fire, the noise she made filling the ominous silence behind
her.