Conflict (39 page)

“Hurry, please. I can already see him, and this time he’s not alone. There’s another spirit with him, a woman…”

“Hold on, little one, fight, don’t let the spirits of evil drag you to their mystical, evil world,” said the old woman as she blessed Iruki with her good luck charm. She murmured a prayer to the good spirits so that they would protect the girl.

“He’s coming for my soul, he wants to take it away from me, I’m sure!”

“Don’t let him, resist. I’ll be back with Oni Black Cloud in a moment. Hold fast!” Ilua Hidden Path left her tent and hurried in search of the Shaman of the tribe with her heart in her mouth.

Komir’s eyes lingered on the red-skinned savage, with her long jet-black hair falling loose around her shoulders, as she looked at him with eyes full of hate. It was the same woman the medallion had summoned the time before. That look of hatred worried Komir. How could he make her understand that he did not wish her harm? Komir showed her his open hands in a sign of peace, but she crouched in fear.

Perhaps if he could make her understand that it was really the medallion which was calling her and not him. He took the jewel round his neck with one hand and showed it to both women. Pointing at the medallion with his other hand, he tried to make them see that this arcane object was the one responsible for their meeting. The girl with golden hair seemed to understand and showed him her own medallion, pointing at it with her finger. But the red-skinned girl remained crouching, looking at both with fear and distrust.

Trying to make her understand that he meant her no harm at all, Komir smiled. To emphasize his peaceful intentions, he sat on the floor with his legs crossed, keeping the medallion in view in his right hand. He looked at the blonde girl and she did the same, sitting on the floor in the same position and holding up her own medallion. They remained like this for a long while, until the red girl seemed to relax somewhat. Finally she imitated them and sat down in the same way, showing her medallion, although her expression still showed fear and distrust.

Komir looked at the curious triangle they formed, each holding up his or her mysterious medallion.
And now what?
he wondered. Almost as if in answer to the question, the jewel round his neck began to emit the familiar white, almost transparent, flashes. Immediately the pale girl’s jewel began to emit brown flashes, the color of earth, while the red-skinned girl’s medallion began to emit flashes the color of the sea. The three watched the show of flashes and sparkles as if hypnotized. It looked as though the three medallions were having an animated conversation, as if this were a friendly gathering. Komir had no idea what was going on, but he was beginning to have the impression that this was precisely what the medallion wanted: to communicate with the other two, to find its lost brothers.

Suddenly two beams of light shot out of his medallion towards the two girls. At the same time the women’s medallions burst into beams of light which reached out to the other two. Each beam met the one issuing from the other medallion and fused together, and the three united in a triangle of light which gradually turned golden.

Komir made an effort to understand what he was experiencing. He felt a change in his inner energy. Another arcane energy, more powerful, more profoundly ancient, was issuing from the medallion itself and mixing with his own to create a unifying link. The Ilenian medallion was drawing on his power to create the golden beam of light which joined them.
That must mean that these two women have inner energy as well, the Gift, just like me. Otherwise the medallions wouldn’t react.
The fact seemed to him supremely important, a discovery that had to be taken fully into account. If these two women had already caught Komir’s attention, particularly the one with golden hair, they now fascinated him much more.

The golden triangle formed by the three young people began to shine more strongly, drawing the medallions, physically pulling at their chests. Komir felt the pull and saw the fear in the eyes of the red-skinned girl, who had her hands firmly placed on the ground behind her and was trying not to be dragged by the strength of the link. He looked to his right, where the girl who intrigued him most was also resisting the pull, but there was no fear in her blue eyes. As he witnessed what was happening Komir had no doubt: the three of them were forming a bond, an unbreakable bond, as if after a very long time they were meeting again and sealing their reunion.

Three blindingly intense golden flashes emphasized the link with a flourish.

The three medallions and their bearers were joined unalterably, for good or ill.

The three looked at each other for an instant, unsure. But now there was no fear in the eyes of the red-skinned brunette, and the blond girl was smiling.

Komir smiled too and bowed his head to the women, who bowed their heads in return.

All of a sudden the outlines of the two women began to vanish, and Komir was horrified to realize that they were leaving. He wanted to stop them, wanted them to stay and talk. He had to find out who they were and why they too had Ilenian medallions like his own. He had so many things to ask them! He needed so many answers!

A very familiar voice boomed out behind him.

“That’s enough! You’ve been at your damned magic far too long. I know what you need!”

Komir felt a sharp pain in his head, then darkness enveloped him.

Mirkos the Erudite, escorted by the six Royal Swords which formed his personal guard, walked into the Audience Hall of the Duke’s Castle in Silanda. He was tired after the long journey. It had taken more than three weeks from Rilentor, the capital of the kingdom, to Silanda, the beautiful, fortified border city of the South, last Rogdonian stronghold against the Nocean Empire. At his age these long trips were simply undeserved punishment for his battered body, something that saddened him deeply. Long ago traveling had been his favorite pastime. How many wonderful experiences he had enjoyed during those countless journeys and adventures of his happy youth!

As he passed a great window and caught a glimpse of the city, he thought the singular beauty of its architecture never ceased to amaze him. Influences from three rich and different cultures were clearly noticeable. The city mingled the curved and oval structures of the Nocean style with the square arches and rectangular forms of the sober Rogdonian tendencies. All of it was topped and decorated with symbols from Andú mythology. This was the local race of the region and the largest population group in Silanda. The strange mixture was striking, and lent the city an unusual beauty. Under the radiant noonday sun, Silanda shone with an almost heavenly aura which Mirkos could only admire in delight.

Leaning on his beloved staff of red Iridian oak, trimmed with gold and topped with a great translucent pearl, the old Mage walked towards the three men who were waiting for him in full dress armor. Mirkos recognized them at once, even though it had been some time since he had last seen them, on a much happier circumstance than this.

Duke Galen, Regent of the province and lord of the city, greeted him effusively. A man of great stature and physical strength, he was known to be a good Regent and military strategist. He could not have been more than fifty, one of the most respected men of the Kingdom and a close friend of His Majesty King Solin. He looked both tough and powerful, and this helped to emphasize his innate qualities of leadership.

“Mirkos, welcome to Silanda!” the Duke said. “I see time doesn’t affect you, my old friend. You look just the same as you did when we last met!”

“Thank you, I see the members of the nobility still lie as badly as ever,” the Mage replied with a friendly smile.

“Far from it, my dear Mage,” the Duke said with a laugh. “Are you losing your wits? I’ve always lied just as badly.”

On the Duke’s right was his younger brother Dolbar. He smiled and greeted the Mage with a small bow as a sign of respect. Smaller in size and strength than his older brother, he was known throughout the South for his lively intelligence. He was in charge of administering the region, managing business and the prosperous commercial routes of the enormous county with great shrewdness, all of which had helped the region to grow richer in the last few years. His long curly brown hair, together with his delicate features and large blue eyes, gave him the appearance of a handsome gentleman. His ability to elude marriage at the King’s court, in spite of the considerable interest which came his way, was also notorious. The marriageable ladies of the Court paid him constant attention, trying to catch him, but Dolbar —very politely— eluded them.

Mirkos liked the young man. He was intelligent as well as kind, courteous and educated and what was even better: kind-hearted. These were qualities not usually found together in one person, much less among the nobility. Mirkos returned the greeting with a nod and a sincere smile of appreciation.

“Welcome, Mirkos,” Dolbar said with a courteous gesture. “The city is in need of your presence.”

“It’s always a pleasure to come back to this magnificent city and enjoy your hospitality,” the Mage replied.

“I wish they were better times and that your reasons for being here were far more pleasant than the ones which concerns us,” the youngest of the two brothers said with a touch of sadness.

“You’re so right, my young friend… indeed, how I wish the circumstances were better. It’s not the best of times for a visit, and nor have I come to further my studies as I would wish to.”

Kilbar, Commander of the fortress and First Sword of Duke Galen, waited beside the two noblemen with an air of introspection. He was known throughout the Kingdom for having won the last two tournaments of swordsmanship organized by the King. This victory, besides being an honor, had made him a public figure, something which as it turned out did not entirely please the young sword-master. A man who was not very attractive physically, with brown hair cut military style, bulging eyes and eagle-nose, and a true master in sword-to-sword combat. His lethal instinct as a swordsman was absolutely at odds with his quiet, introverted character. Mirkos had met him at a banquet in honor of his victory in Rilentor two summers before and knew him to be a man of few words.

“And where is Drocus? How come he’s not joining us?” the Duke asked in some surprise.

“He told me he has to make a surprise visit to the officers’ barracks first.
To impose order,
is what he told me.”

Duke Galen burst out laughing. “Drocus is incorrigible. I wouldn’t like to be in those officers’ skins when he bursts in like a tornado.”

“That’s what he’s like, a force of nature,” Mirkos said. “He’ll join us presently. Meanwhile I’d like to have an idea of how things are going,”

“The situation is dire. But before we discuss it, can I offer you something to drink? Or eat, perhaps? Shall I order a good meal and a refreshing bath to alleviate the fatigue of such a long journey?” the Duke offered with a show of the famous southern hospitality.

“To be honest, my old bones would appreciate a refreshing rest. A light dinner after the bath would certainly revive body and soul. But if it’s no trouble, I’d rather have an idea of how serious the situation is before I rest. King Solin sent me urgently, and I understand the situation is critical.”

“Indeed it is,” the Duke said. He walked over to a big oval window, arms crossed behind his back in a thoughtful gesture. “The Noceans are about to attack. A huge army is gathering, less than two leagues south of the city. They’ve already crossed the border into our territory. They could attack at any moment.”

“They’ve crossed the border and now they’re at the doors of the city itself? I don’t understand, war hasn’t been officially declared. How is it possible? How come they dared without either reason or motive? Do they really want open war with Rogdon?”

“It’s what we gather from their movements,” Dolbar replied. “For the last four weeks several armies of the Nocean Empire have been gathering on the dry lands, without crossing the border. These movements began with the attack on Prince Gerart, which they were accused of, and which created a diplomatic incident between our nations. At first, the movements of their army were taken simply as a show of power, a strategic position taken up for the sake of intimidation. After the attack on your own person, my dear Mage, two new armies from the southwest have joined the ones already here.”

“But King Solin hasn’t formally accused them, the conversations haven’t stopped, the diplomatic effort to find a solution is still going on.”

“Perhaps I might shed some light on this point,” said a middle-aged, chubby man dressed in fine silk who was walking into the room with surprising energy, given his build. “Allow me to introduce myself, as I do not as yet have the honor of knowing such an illustrious Mage. My name is Abuleros, emissary for the Kingdom of Rogdon in the Nocean Empire, and no doubt you must be Mirkos, the great Battle Mage of the King.” He came up to Mirkos and made an extremely elaborate bow.

Mirkos returned the greeting with a mere nod. He had immediately recognized the slippery Rogdonian spy who carried out all manner of subterfuges in Nocean territory under the cover of Royal Emissary.

“Since the two attacks upon such notable persons of the Kingdom, relationships with the Nocean Empire have turned critical. At all times they have denied being involved in the murder attempts. Mulko, Regent of the North, has personally assured me they had nothing to do with the attacks. But after the second attack, the one directed against you personally, Mulko himself threw me out of Nocean lands and closed the border. Which is something truly suspicious, if the Noceans are as innocent as they claim to be. Even in such serious and suspicious circumstances as these, I’ve kept in contact with Zecly, his personal counselor and powerful Sorcerer, who I warrant is known to you all.”

Mirkos nodded. Fame, and not exactly the desirable kind, went before the great Nocean Sorcerer.

“But at all times he has denied any involvement in both attempts. A few days ago the messages stopped, unilaterally. And the army set off. I suspect it’s under direct orders of the Nocean Emperor: Malota the Ruthless, a man of insatiable ambition and widely-known perversion. His atrocities and genocides are infamous. He controls the southern Empire with an iron hand, crushing the slightest opposition to his tyranny, supported by dark Sorcerers and witch-men. He’s always had his sights on the northern kingdoms, but he hasn’t had the chance, that is until now…”

“Why now?” asked the Mage. “If they deny the attacks, and without any direct cause for intervention, they’d never dare to attack us. The King hasn’t given any order for punitive action.”

“The real problem is the critical situation with the Kingdom of Norghana to the northeast,” Duke Galen said, coming to stand beside the Mage. “War is about to break out with Norghana, and if it does, we’ll find ourselves divided between two fronts. This is what the Noceans are waiting for so that they can launch themselves against us.”

“That’s right,” said the chubby spy. “The Norghanians accuse us of killing King Thoran’s brother Duke Orten. They claim to have irrefutable proof, and they’re about to attack the Pass of the Half Moon. The reports we’re receiving say that an enormous army of at least thirty thousand Norghanians under Count Volgren’s command is getting ready to attack the fortress guarding the Pass. From what we know, the Norghanian King is beside himself with grief and anger at the loss of his only brother. His quick temper is well-known, and there’s been no way to bring him to reason. War with Norghana seems inevitable, and that’s just what Malota the Ruthless is waiting for. If war against Norghana is declared I have no doubt that the Noceans will attack, taking advantage of a unique opportunity.”

“I see… Now I can appreciate the situation and the reasons behind the Nocean movements with greater clarity,” the Mage said, deeply saddened. “The situation is truly critical. We’re on the brink of a war which could end the existence of our beloved Kingdom. It really is bad news. Many innocents are about to suffer the evil and perversity of men’s darkest side. We must use every possible means to prevent pain and suffering from reaching our people.”

“That’s our duty and that is what we’ll do,” Duke Galen said. “If war is declared, this city won’t fall. We won’t allow this Nocean rabble to gain access to the Kingdom of Rogdon. We’ll defend the city to the last man.”

“How big is the Nocean army?”

“As far as we’ve been able to gather, the Emperor has sent four of the armies at his disposal. Each one consists of ten thousand men, well-trained veterans, led by officers of proven valor. Mulko the Regent of the north has another ten thousand men at his fortress of Alaband, so that we calculate they’ll have about fifty thousand soldiers all in all.”

“Who will lead the army?” Mirkos asked.

“They’re under the leadership and standard of Mulko, Regent of the North of the Nocean Empire,” Dolbar replied. “He’s an intelligent and experienced leader.”

“In addition to that we must take into account that Zecly, the Sorcerer and personal Counselor of Mulko, is a man of great power, and our spies have reported the arrival of several Sorcerers of the South,” Abuleros said. “This poses a serious problem, and that is why we requested your presence, my dear Mirkos.”

“I see, you need my help to counteract the magic of his Sorcerers.”

“That’s right, my old friend, men’s hearts shrivel before the power of magic,” the Duke said. “Fear takes over the soldiers’ minds and is a terrible enemy for any general. We need your magic to be able to fight against those sorcerers and witch-men from the desert lands of the South.”

“I will do everything in my power to stop the evil and protect our own people. How many innocent are taking cover in the city? As I was arriving I saw an endless caravan of refugees coming in through the Gate of Hope.”

“Thousands of people are crowding the streets, and more are still arriving” said Dolbar. “We’re working hard to provide for and accommodate them. The army is in charge. They’re working day and night to prepare the city for what’s coming. The preparations for the siege started more than a month ago. The King sent supplies, which have been arriving during the past week.”

“How many men do we have to defend the city?” the Mage asked, with a trace of apprehension.

An uncomfortable silence fell on the room. Nobody said anything for a moment.

At last, Duke Galen replied:

“We have twenty thousand men at our disposal. The King has sent the other half of the army to defend the Pass of the Half Moon. Some fifteen thousand soldiers left two weeks ago for the fortress at the Pass. We weren’t expecting the Noceans to advance so fast. There are reinforcements in the form of five thousand Lancers on the way from Rilentor, but they won’t arrive for at least another week. Between the refugees and the inhabitants of the city we can put together a group of five thousand militia. Farmers and shepherds mostly, some with fighting experience, but not many. That means about twenty-five thousand men until reinforcements arrive. Enough to defend the city for months, unless the Ruthless sends more armies, which is possible. If war breaks out in the North, very probably Malota will strengthen the attackers. The Nocean Empire has an army without equal in number. Fortunately it’s needed to keep order in the vast south of the continent. We don’t think the armies of the deep South will be sent, at least not yet.”