Holdwith
Night was falling, and thousands of blue dots speckled the Stone Fields as ice lanterns were lit. From the black walls of Fort Logale, Tyrellan looked out over the gathered army. They had come from all over Fenvarrow – contingents of pale Arabodedas men, Black Goblins and their subservient Grey cousins, bat-winged Graka, crystal-winged pixies and the tusked and bandy-legged Vorthargs, collecting in numbers without precedent. Production of siege machines in Smalt had been doubled and every day more rolled in, hulking and slow on wheels of iron. Hastily built warehouses outside the walls were brimming with food, and the clinking and clanking of blacksmiths hard at work could be heard day and night. Whelklings continuously flew back and forth, adding to the supplies.
It bothered Tyrellan that assembling so many in one place had left the rest of Fenvarrow sparsely defended. Thankfully word had arrived of the Kainordans concentrating their strength also – at Kahlay, with a smaller contingent at the Shining Mines. It was well that they did not suspect Losara’s true intention of attacking Holdwith. They had no reason to – the mage fortress was a dangerous target and had never been first on any Shadowdreamer’s list before.
‘Most impressive,’ said Roma beside him, and Tyrellan gave a slight nod. He’d come to respect the new Magus Supreme, who had done an admirable job of bringing together Fenvarrow’s magic-wielding population. All levels of mages, from young students to wizened elders, now swelled the amassed ranks. Tyrellan was also pleased to note that there was no trace of ego left about Roma – gone was the cockiness he’d seen in the man who had once thought himself fit to challenge Losara. Roma now strove to do his master’s will unquestioningly, hungrily almost. He had been well chosen.
‘Are there more to come?’ Tyrellan asked.
‘Not many,’ said Roma. ‘The cowards have hidden, the incapacitated have been excused, and the rest are here. A chosen few remain elsewhere, where they may be needed, but if necessary I can summon them also.’
‘No,’ said Tyrellan. ‘It would be imprudent to drain the land of all protection.’
There was a scuttling at his feet as the shadowmander ran past, pausing to sniff here and there. He barely glanced at it, for when he did, he remembered what Losara intended and barely dared to dream it possible. It bothered him greatly that he did not know where Losara was, or what he was doing. Supplies were not endless, and an army of this size required constant maintenance. How long until the Shadowdreamer returned?
‘Have you thought of a plan,’ he asked Roma, ‘to achieve the Dreamer’s ends?’
Roma frowned. ‘It’s unusual to wish to capture so many of the enemy alive. With surprise and numbers I do not foresee great issue, but I hope that Losara has some method in mind.’
‘I do,’ said Losara, stepping out of the shadows.
Tyrellan bowed low, his worries abating most pleasingly.
‘Master,’ he said, and Roma echoed him.
Losara turned to gaze over the army. ‘I wended slowly through,’ he said, ‘on my way here. I am pleased; you have both done well. It is …humbling …to see the magnitude of this support.’
‘They have the greatest of causes to fight for,’ said Tyrellan. ‘Any who fail to answer the call are no better than betrayers.’
‘Which does not negate the courage of those who are here,’ said Losara.
Tyrellan held his tongue. Losara sometimes had a lofty way of looking at things, a way that he did not always share. There was no great courage in choosing the only option available – the people must fight, and that was that. He did not draw attention to the fact that many here had been conscripted.
‘How was your journey?’ he asked instead. ‘Did you find what you went looking for?’
‘I believe so,’ said Losara vaguely.
‘Is there anything we should be apprised of?’
‘The answers I sought were …personal.’ He dared not yet mention his ‘precarious notion’, as Lalenda had called it. While that was foremost in his mind, he also realised that his commanders should know as much as he did about the enemy’s plan.
‘I suppose there is actually much to tell you,’ he sighed. ‘But first I will have your reports.’
He began to drift along the wall, and Tyrellan and Roma fell in step behind him.
‘It will be good for morale for the troops to see you,’ said Roma. ‘Many have asked where their leader is.’
‘And see me they shall,’ said Losara. ‘I am planning no further absences. Tell me, how are our mages?’
‘There are varying degrees of skill amongst their number,’ said Roma. ‘Of the elite, about a thousand.’
‘Excellent. More than enough. There are some six hundred at Holdwith, and many of them are only students.’
‘Yet they have defences,’ said Roma. ‘And we are somewhat disadvantaged by needing to take them alive.’
‘Not all of them. And besides, capture or kill, either way we need to get spells through their defences.’
‘This is your plan then, lord?’ said Roma.
Losara nodded. ‘We will separate our elites from the main force. We can travel more quickly that way, and make good on the surprise it affords us.’
‘You do not intend to take any soldiers?’ said Tyrellan.
‘Not to Holdwith. A small contingent will follow us, but by the time they catch up, the outcome will already be known. The bulk of our army will head towards the Shining Mines and, if we are successful, we will join them there.’
‘But I will go with you?’ said Tyrellan.
‘Oh yes,’ said Losara. ‘You will go …and that slithery little friend of yours too.’
Lalenda sat in a grand room, high up in Logale. It had initially surprised her that she’d been shown here to stay, by Tyrellan no less, after her unannounced arrival. She still remembered, with a sweet savour, the moment she had decided to leave Skygrip and how there had been no one to thwart her – just as there had been no one to prevent her from burning Duskwood to the ground.
Her adventure in the wood had not kept the castle feeling empty on her return, although for several days she had enjoyed going up to the roof to watch the smoky haze she’d created. Despite this satisfaction, the thought of waiting for Losara in Skygrip, killing the hours with idleness and books, fast became unbearable. Lalenda had spent her life reading, and for some reason it ceased to enthral her as it once had – maybe because it had been an escape, and now other means of escape were available. If Losara was allowed to go shooting off to Kainordas on some journey of self -discovery, she didn’t see why she should have to wait around for him all cooped up. Grimra had accompanied her, of course, and together they had flown to Logale, taking their time along the way, watching others who marched below. Since Logale was where Losara’s supporters were heading, why should not his greatest supporter be there also?
Guards stopped her at the fort’s gate, and she demanded that they fetch Tyrellan to verify her identity. When the First Slave had arrived, his gaze had been as unknowable as ever, but there had been a certain acceptance in his voice. After all, she was no longer merely Battu’s plaything; now she was his master’s lover, and Tyrellan would not do anything to displease his master. She suspected the goblin privately thought she had not done anything to deserve such elevation, but what was, was.
‘Let her through,’ Tyrellan had said. ‘This is Lalenda, the Shadowdreamer’s woman, who will be shown every courtesy as befits her.’
The Shadowdreamer’s woman. She’d liked the way that sounded. She knew that Losara did not think of her as a possession, but she was his nonetheless and did not mind being labelled as such. Or maybe it was just the word ‘ woman ’ she liked, because for her whole life she’d been just a girl, until the word had crossed Tyrellan’s lips, spoken so matter-of-factly it was hard to doubt.