The Eighth Warden

Chapter Seven

"I'll send the two of you first, then follow with the others. Are you ready?"

Corec nodded. "Let's go," he said.

Leena tapped him on the arm.

He appeared in the glade, followed shortly by Ariadne. They spread out to keep watch and give the others more room. Leena arrived a moment later, her hands grasping Treya's and Sarette's shoulders.

"Any problems?" Sarette asked them, grasping her staff-spear and moving far enough away that she could wield it without hitting anyone else.

"We haven't seen anyone yet," Corec said. "Let's head into town."

From this peaceful spot, their precautions seemed unnecessary. They were far enough away from Tarwen Village that they couldn't hear anything besides a few winter birds chirping and the breeze blowing through the leaves. There was a light scattering of snow in the shadow of the trees, already melted away in spots where the sun could shine through.

Corec and Ariadne took the lead for the half-mile hike to the edge of the village. Sarette and Treya followed behind as rear guard, keeping Leena in a more protected position at the center.

They'd brought the largest group she could handle at one time. Without knowing what they'd be facing once they arrived, Corec had made his choices carefully. Together, they could hold off a significant force, and Corec, Treya, and Ariadne could all manage some level of protection against magical attacks. That was mostly just a precaution for now--even if Rusol had already learned about the lords' proclamation of war, Barat was certain he didn't have access to a Traveler.

Corec removed his helm as he walked, not wanting to appear threatening. Ansel's men were likely on edge, under the circumstances, and he didn't want to risk an incident. Ariadne followed his example.

It didn't take long to reach the village, which was now surrounded by a new wooden stockade, recent enough to still smell of pine. There was a gate in the wall where it crossed the road, with two knights standing above it on a raised platform. The men had loaded their crossbows as they saw the small party approaching, but kept the weapons pointed down.

"Halt and identify yourself!" one called out.

"I'm Corec Tarwen. I'm here to see my father. Open the gate!"

The knights exchanged worried glances, but they'd almost certainly been at the Hilltop battle. While they might not know Corec by sight, it was unlikely anyone else would go around claiming his name.

One of the knights scrambled down a ladder and lifted the wooden bar which had kept the gate closed, allowing Corec and his friends to enter.

"Sir," the man mumbled as they came in. He was staring straight ahead, doing his best not to look at them.

Corec acknowledged the knight with a nod before leading his companions into the village, which was now perhaps too large to be called a village. Even the hillfolk neighborhood had grown since he'd last seen it, though the flood of refugees had dwindled after the dragon died. The hillfolk had reinforced their earlier, flimsier construction, preparing for winter weather. Ansel must have given them permission to stay.

The men who were out and about eyed him suspiciously, and women ushered children back into their homes. While the hillfolk wouldn't recognize Corec or his friends, they knew the barony was at war. Any armed strangers would be viewed with distrust.

In the older section of town, there was more curiosity than suspicion, and Corec occasionally heard his name whispered between onlookers as he passed.

Word must have run ahead through the village. By the time they reached the manor house, Ansel and Branth were standing outside, waiting for them.

Corec came to a halt, not sure what to say.

Without a word, his father rushed forward, grabbing him in a hug. He hadn't done that in...

Corec thought back.

He hadn'teverdone that.

#

Corec and Ansel were ensconced in the baron's study, Leena had returned to Warden's Keep with an initial round of messages, and Lady Isabel had led Sarette and Ariadne to somewhere they could change out of their armor.

That left Treya by herself in the sitting room, staring up at a portrait over the mantel which showed a younger Ansel and Isabel along with a beautiful woman with wavy blonde hair.

"Corec's mother," Isabel said, returning alone. "Moira." She was wearing a dress of mourning black, though neither she nor Ansel had brought up the topic of Toman yet in front of strangers.

"She was lovely," Treya said.

"She was my best friend," Isabel replied. "She was... well, that's neither here nor there. I understand you're a Sister of the Three Orders as well."

"Yes, though I'm with the mystics rather than the concubines," Treya said.

She didn't expect the other woman to understand, but Isabel simply nodded. "Moira told me of the Orders. I'd already known of the scholars, of course, but I'd never considered what the namethe Three Ordersactually meant until she pointed it out. Learning to fight is such a strange choice for a woman. Moira was never very clear on why you would want to."

Not many women in human lands learned the arts of war, and in Larso, the number was lower still.

"Every Three Orders girl is an orphan," Treya said. "Sometimes we..." She hesitated, then decided be more direct. "A mystic Sister hunted down the raiders who killed my parents. I grew up wanting to be just like her. I wanted to be the person who helps others, not the one who needed help."

Isabel patted her on the shoulder. "Oh, you dear thing, I'm so sorry. Poor Moira never knew her family. The chapter house was all she could remember." She looked back up at the portrait. "Corec was so young when she died. I don't think he actually remembers her."

"He mentions her sometimes," Treya said. "At least the things you told him of her."

Isabel gave her a sad smile. "I still ask her for advice, especially lately. I've been so worried. We'd hoped Cardinal Aldrich would take charge of matters in Telfort, but now he's dead and we're going to war ourselves. We can't face the king on our own, not unless Ansel can convince the rest of the peerage to join us."

"Corec thinks we can do it," Treya said. "If he didn't, he'd be trying to convince you to leave Larso and come to the free lands with us."

"Ansel would never leave Tarwen," Isabel said. "Corec knows that. I won't leave either--not until that traitor king is dead and buried." Her voice grew angry and bitter as she spoke, the first hint she'd given of her true feelings. "But I don't know how we can manage it."

"Trust Corec," Treya said. "If anyone can stand against Rusol, it's him."

Treya had watched Corec grow into a capable leader, able to use his allies' abilities effectively and collaboratively, but she suspected Isabel wouldn't be interested in the more complex details right now. What the other woman needed was simple reassurance.

"We've heard the stories, you know," Isabel said. "Killing the dragon, the things the knights told us about the battle, the rumors from the hillfolk and the traveling merchants. I know it's not all true, but even the true stories seem like tall tales sometimes, and he's still just Moira's little boy and I'm supposed to be the one protecting him. Not the other way around." She sighed, then changed the topic. "Let's get you settled. Our guest rooms are already taken, which just leaves the boys' old rooms. Your friends should be ready by now, and I can show the three of you around town."

#

Corec was pacing alone in the dining room when Branth came in, spinning a chair around and sitting on it backwards.

"I wasn't sure Father was ever going to let you out of his study," his brother said. "You look worried. Or is it confused?"

"I thought he'd blame me for Toman's death," Corec replied.

"He's too busy blaming himself. Not just for Toman, either--he was worried about you too, but by the time we learned about the battle, it was already over." He shook his head. "I think that was when he realized Toman wasn't coming back."

There was a distant look in Branth's eyes. He'd always been closer to Toman than Corec had.

"I'm sorry."

"Nowyou'reblaming yourself," Branth said. "There's only one person at fault here, and it's not you or Father."

"I know, but... never mind." At some point Corec would have to explain the whole story, including the new information he'd learned from Queen Yassi, but now wasn't the time. "He wants me to meet with the lords tomorrow."

"He told me. I'll ride out to Tammerly this afternoon and invite them, but I'm not going to say why--they'll just ask questions I can't answer. I'll leave that for you."

With the knights taking up so much space in Tarwen Village, the rest of the Black Crow lords and their retinues were staying at the other end of the valley.

"I don't think I've ever met them," Corec said. "Other than Tammerly, I mean."

"He'll support Father. Not that he has much choice, with Vena being Toman's wife, but he would have supported Father anyway. Greenwood will too, I think. I don't know Highfell, but the others trust him. It's the duke I'm worried about."

"Is there a problem?" Corec asked.

"Duke Edmond doesn't like the king much, but Father forced his hand," Branth said. "He sent out the first copies of the proclamation without waiting for signatures. Edmond doesn't have enough men to stop us--not with the knights here--but he can't go to the king and tell him that all four of the Black Crow barons rose up in rebellion while he himself wasn't involved. Not with that proclamation out there. Even with that, I don't think he would have signed the real one if we didn't have the Church's backing."

"Dowe have the Church's backing?" Corec asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Jesson brought a hundred forty knights and a handful of priests with him, but the rest of Hightower has sworn to Rusol, and Northtower has fallen under his spell. Sir Rodrick took a group to Telfort, but that was before anyone knew Cardinal Aldrich was dead. Nobody's heard from them since. Without the knights, the priests are too scattered to put up any real resistance. There's that conclave Father mentioned, but do they have any idea what's going on?"

"You make it sound hopeless," Branth said.

"I wouldn't say that, and the Church's support will be important for helping to gather allies, but we can't depend on them to take the lead. This isn't a fight the Order can win, not on their own."

"You intend to do it yourself."

Corec nodded. "I don't see any other way to handle it."

It would be tricky. Corec didn't hold any position of authority in Larso, and on top of that, he was a mage--exiled in practice, if not in fact. The knights' feelings about him were mixed at best, and the lords had no reason to listen to him. He'd have to convince everyone that he knew what he was doing.

If only he was sure about that himself.

#

Corec was going over a map of the Black Crows with Sarette when they heard Ansel and Branth greeting the other lords, then leading them into the dining room.

They'd all brought along their own retinues, and in the commotion, no one noticed Corec and his friends at first. Ariadne had borrowed some less severe clothing from Sarette than the military style she normally wore, and they weren't the only women present. Marisa, Branth's concubine, stood with Isabel, while Lady Tammerly helped her husband Hiram into a chair at the dining table before sitting beside him. Neither the baron nor his wife appeared to recognize Corec, but that wasn't a surprise--they hadn't seen him since he was ten years old.

Sir Jesson arrived as well, along with his two most senior knights and Priest Calwell. Finding the priest at the supper table the night before had been an unwelcome shock, but the man had been one of Ansel's closest associates for decades. Perhaps it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he'd accompanied Jesson to Tarwen Valley.

"All right, Ansel, you asked us out here," Lord Landon Highfell said. "Have you figured out how you're going to protect my city? The army could arrive any day!"

Jesson's original plan had called for using the mountains to defend Tarwen Valley from Rusol's wrath through the winter while they waited for the Church to depose him.

Toman's death--and more specifically, Cardinal Aldrich's--had changed things. With no one left who had any authority over the king, and with the conclave to elect a new cardinal taking place in Rusol's own capital, Ansel had been forced to declare war. For that, he needed to show a united front to help gather support from across the kingdom as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, that united front included Highfell, which put the town in a vulnerable position. It lay along the mountain passes where the Trade Road cut through the Black Crows, and was only a week's ride from Telfort.

Sir Jesson responded. "We should still have some time. With any luck, the king isn't even aware of the proclamation yet--the messenger we sent to Sir Rodrick isn't carrying a copy, in case he's captured. For now, how are your own defenses going?"

Landon huffed. "My son's last message said he's finished the repairs on the west wall, but how is that going to help? Only a third of the population lives in the inner city, and I can't hold off an entire army when you refuse to move your men north!"

"We've sent out scouts, Landon," Ansel said. "As soon as we see any hint of soldiers, we'll join you--I promise. We won't leave you out there alone, but we can't reposition our troops until we know what direction the attack is coming from. We're all at risk, especially now that Hightower's declared for the king."

"What?" one of the other lords barked. "What are you talking about?" Given the man's age--of middle years, but younger than the four barons--that had to be Lord Edmond, the new Duke of the Crows.

Corec stepped forward. "The priests at Hightower convinced the knights who remained behind that they should stand with the king before their own oaths. I've taken a dozen men into my service who refused to be part of it, but that still leaves nearly a hundred at the fortress, and the baron has sided with them."

Looks of shock and dismay passed through the room. Baron Hightower was the last of the eastern border lords. While his domain fell outside the Black Crows, the mountain lords had considered him to be one of their closest allies.

"Gentlemen," Ansel said, "This is my son, Corec."

The shock lasted longer this time, and some of the men standing on Corec's side of the room edged away from him.

"You brought himhere?" Edmond said. "Bloody hell, Tarwen. Are you mad? He's the reason we're in this mess!"

"Rusol is the one who started a war against his own people," Corec said. "He's the one who used dark magic against the knights. I never asked to be his enemy. I'm here because you won't be able to fight him without magic of your own."

"Wehavefought mages before," one of the knights pointed out.

"Not like this," Corec said. "You got lucky with Odwins, but Rusol knew about it the moment he died, and he knows where it happened, which means he already has a good idea of who killed him. You're facing a warden with at least three bondmates. Magnus is a priest of The Lady, Kolvi is an elder witch, and Rodulf's a wizard. Magnus can take on a small army by himself; Kolvi could destroy a large one. Rusol is stronger than any of them--he can control both elder magic and demonic powers."

Some of that was guesswork, combining Barat's knowledge with Corec's own experiences as a warden, but he suspected he wasn't too far off. Rusol had been a warden for longer, and he and his bondmates had certainly had enough time to master their abilities.

Edmond eyed Corec suspiciously. "Just how do you know all this? Your father insisted you've never met the king."

"I haven't, but I've spoken to others who have. In particular, Sir Barat, who led the invasion force into my lands. He's one of Rusol's bondmates as well, but was forced into it unwillingly. We saved him from that spell, just as we saved the Northtower knights. He was able to tell us what he learned during his time in Telfort."

"Warden..." started Jesson. "That's what the freelanders have been calling you."

"It's an old order of mages," Corec said. "It doesn't mean much these days, besides that he's a stronger mage than you've ever faced before. As are the allies he surrounds himself with. I'm a warden too, but my gifts are different. I can't control people with dark magic, for one." Corec still didn't know what dark magic was, or whether it had anything to do with demonic compulsion, but he had to say something that would keep the knights away from his friends and aimed at Rusol.

Ansel furrowed his brow. "I've met Magnus before, at some function in Telfort a few years back. He's a priest? I thought he was one of the family's advisors."

Corec shrugged. "All I know is what Barat told me, but he seemed certain of it."

Priest Calwell spoke up. "Corec, you may have helped us in the free lands, but you can't expect us to ally with wizards and witches. Magic is magic."

"Not all magic is the same," Corec said. "In the earliest scriptures--the ones thatyoualways insisted came from Pallisur himself--he only denounced dark magic. You've felt Rusol controlling your mind. Do you really think the spell that freed you is just as bad as the one that was controlling you?"

Calwell looked away, not answering.

Jesson took the opportunity to reply. "I say we take the help that's offered," the knight said. "We've all heard what happened at Hilltop Village, and Corec's right--that's not the sort of magic we trained for. If we were defending Telfort Tower, that's one thing, but we don't have a spare fortress lying around."

"Then what's the plan?" Lord Landon asked.

"We've got to draw Rusol's forces away from his strongholds," Corec said. "By killing Odwins, the knights have likely already set that in motion. Our goal is to weaken him gradually, so when the time comes to face him, we'll actually stand a chance. Meanwhile, we've got to protect Highfell and the rest of the Crows, but if the army comes by the main road, I'm not sure our scouts will be able to give us enough warning to move our soldiers around. We need a way to hold the army off until we can get there. Captain Sarette?"

Sarette, who'd been standing behind Corec, joined him in front of the group. Confused expressions spread throughout the room, and Tammerly squinted, trying to get a better look. Stormborn were rare in western Aravor, and only Lord Landon seemed to recognize the bluish tinge to her skin and the swirls running up and down the sides of her head and neck.

"I can bring in a snowstorm," she said, "but the weather's not cold enough for it to stay frozen, so I'll have to keep repeating it every few days. I can start today with a light snowfall, to convince everyone to stop using the road, then get heavier once it's clear."

That was the plan Corec had been discussing with her before the lords had arrived. The only other option he'd come up with was to ask her to scout the route herself, but she'd have to fly halfway to Telfort to bring the news back in time, and she'd have to do it every single day. It was too risky.

"Can you target just the Trade Road?" Corec asked. "We need to keep the route between here and Highfell open so our soldiers can get through."

"It won't be perfect, but it should be passable."

"Wait," Landon said, "you're talking about blocking the Trade Road with snow? You can do that?"

"Yes," Sarette said simply.

"It's the best way to stop Rusol's army," Corec said. "If they find themselves in four feet of snow, it'll delay them by at least a week while they decide whether to wait it out, build sleds, or push through without any supplies."