Elfsorrow

'The man's arrogance knows no boundary,' replied Blackthorne, feeling some anxiety. Gresse was right. Selik wouldn't come unless he felt he had real weight on his side. Truth or lie, Blackthorne was worried what he might hear. He signalled to his guard of six to accompany them and put his heels to his horse's flanks.

Blackthorne rode quickly, Gresse at his side, his well armoured guards in a loose circle around him as they passed along the north trail out of the town. To the east, the skyline was dominated by the Balan Mountains but in front of them the land was flat, covered in bracken and coarse grass. It was a cool if dry day but there were clouds massing on the mountain peaks. Rain was not far away.

They could see both militia and Black Wings from over a mile away as they rounded a bend in the trail through a small area of devastated woodland. Blackthorne could see eight of his own men, who would have a mage with them, mounted and watching over the Black Wing riders who had all dismounted, leaving their horses to graze at will.

The Baron, feeling irritation at the waste of his valuable time but happy that his increased security had intercepted the Black Wings, reined in by the militia sergeant and dismounted.

'Stand off but be ready,' he said.

'Yes, my Lord.'

Blackthorne and Gresse walked the short distance to the Black Wing captain, obvious by his wrecked face, and his men. Selik did not smile as he saw them.

'Baron Blackthorne, a pleasure I'm sure. And made all the better by the presence of the famous Baron Gresse. You have saved me a further journey.' He extended a gauntleted hand which both barons ignored.

'You have nothing to say that I want to hear, so make it quick and be on your way,' said Blackthorne. 'I am a busy man.'

'I thought it only fair to visit you, Blackthorne, and offer you the hand of alliance.'

Blackthorne folded his arms and frowned. 'Against what?'

'Well, magic of course. The scourge that has brought this great country to its knees, that threatens to destroy our land and that must be stopped from regaining its dominance over the people.'

'A country that you would clearly like to see flat on its back with its eyes staring sightless at the sky,' said Blackthorne.

'No, one that I would see return to rude health without the ever-present fear of magical devastation.'

Blackthorne exchanged a quick glance with Gresse, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

'You want me, us, to ally with you to throw down the colleges, is that it?'

'It is a crusade of the righteous,' said Selik. 'You are respected men. Your presence could stop unnecessary bloodshed.'

'Respect that alliance with you would destroy in a moment,' said Gresse. 'The Gods only know what bullshit your supporters swallow, but don't treat us as fools. Your ultimate goal is the murder of every mage in Balaia. There is no unnecessary bloodshed for you, and while I have breath I will oppose you.'

Selik's eye narrowed and his expression clouded. 'The people are sick of magic. They want rid of it, they want it exterminated or controlled. And those who support it are the enemies of Balaia.'

'And these people are the same ones who wallow in filth right now while their families die of hunger and disease and the only thriving creatures are rats,' said Blackthorne.

'And all brought upon them by magic.'

'And magic will save them,' snapped Blackthorne. 'My town is free of vermin. It is free of disease. The people are fed. They can see an end. But only with the help of magic. Who will save these people should you succeed in your sick aim?'

'Healing is a natural process and cats can catch rats,' said Selik smoothly. 'Breed more cats.'

Blackthorne walked forward. He was a head taller than Selik. He looked down at the Black Wing captain and saw a brief fear in his eyes that undermined his air of confidence.

'You will not hasten an end to the college war by intervening. I want to see magic returned to balance, not exterminated. We must end this war by negotiation and strength of will. And while I am angry that there is war and disgusted at the actions taken by Xetesk and Dordover, I will not condone opportunists like you attempting to weaken the colleges to the point of collapse. Balaia must have magic.'

'The colleges have no will other than to tear each other apart and damn the consequences for this country,' said Selik, the fire back in his eyes.

'And I and the barons that are with me will pressure for peace at every stage. You well know Heryst is a force for that peace and my allegiance is with him. Meanwhile, my borders are strong and my mages are loyal to me and wish the conflict ended as fervently as I do.'

'The righteous will prevail,' said Selik.

'Yes, they will,' said Blackthorne. 'And you are not among them. This country has magic running through its veins. It is part of all of us. It makes us strong. You will never end magic, Selik, but I sincerely hope you die trying and before you consign more innocent men and women to their deaths. Now, leave my lands immediately. Any further incursion and you will be taken. Do I make myself clear?'

Selik laughed, a rattling unpleasant sound. 'I have made my point, I have offered you alliance and now I know your allegiance. The people will not forget where you stand, Blackthorne. Nor you, Gresse. And when the army of justice rides south, remember my words.'

'Leave.' Blackthorne turned away to his sergeant. 'See he leaves our lands and pass the word. They are not to be tolerated here again.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

Blackthorne and Gresse walked to their horses.

'So why didn't you arrest him then and there?' asked the older baron.

'My dear Gresse, there are times when you must gamble and this is one of those times. Something must be done to draw the colleges together, for them to unite as they did when the Wytch Lords threatened. And I can think of nothing better than a Black Wing attack, can you?'

'And the innocents that die in the process?'

Blackthorne sighed. 'Regrettable. Regrettable but inevitable. Come, Gresse, we have places to be and I want to wash the taste of that meeting away with a good drop of ale.'

Chapter 22

Ilkar's quick summary of his conversations with Kild'aar and Rebraal had given Erienne new focus. Leaving Hirad to berate the Julatsan for never revealing he had a brother, she, Denser and Ren hurried over to the house Ilkar had indicated, wary of the panther and its extraordinary keeper who sat silent outside. They were stopped at the door by Kild'aar. The elven woman spoke briefly. Ren turned to them.

'She says you're not welcome. She says you will not defile the body of the Al-Arynaar.'

'Tell her I agree, I will not defile his body,' said Erienne. 'But if she wants us to help save her village, she'd better let us through now.'

It was late and Erienne was tired. The ache in her head was growing and it pulsed like a reminder, nudging her to do something, fulfil an obligation she didn't feel. Ren was talking to Kild'aar. It was a curt exchange. At one point the older elf pointed meaningfully at the panther who so far, like its keeper, had paid them no heed whatever. Eventually, she stepped from the doorway, her contempt clear in the set of her body and expression.

'She says the panther will claw out your eyes if you do wrong to the body.'

Denser looked at Ren with the expression Erienne recognised whenever The Raven were threatened. Utter disdain.

'It wouldn't get within five yards,' he said, and stalked inside.

They went left as directed into a candle-lit and chokingly scented room containing a single bed on which lay the shrouded figure of Mercuun. Kild'aar followed them in and stood to watch, arms folded in silent disapproval.