Warlords Ascending Page 4

  Dunixan watched her face, his own expression one of infinite dismay. When he finally did speak, his voice was low and laced with a rough catch. “Magicians in other countries always seemed to live a charmed life to me. I never once considered that they might experience such terrible beginnings. Was Trev’nor like this, too?”

  “Trev’nor and Nolan experienced something similar. Not as bad as mine, fortunately. Their powers both awakened when they were five. It was still very illegal then to have magical ability. Vonlorisen hadn’t changed the laws yet. Nolan was smuggled out of the palace in the dead of night by our mentor, Garth, and a team of mercenaries from Ascalon. Trev’nor was actually picked up by a Tonkowacon tribe when he was two, and he lived with them until his magic ability awakened. Then the shaman of the tribe ran across Garth and made a request of him. Garth took him back and found Jaunten foster parents to raise him.”

  “So you’ve all lost your homes because of your magic.” Dunixan shook his head, mostly in disbelief, and he stared blindly out over the horizon. “Unbelievable.”

  “Has your conception of the world just been turned on its head?” Becca asked, not unkindly.

  “I rather feel like it has.” He considered this, silently, before asking abruptly, “If you know what this is like, why do you keep sending the magicians away as soon as you rescue them?”

  “Not much other choice,” Becca admitted. “Although it kills us to do it. Their magical power has to have either a limiter on it or the magician has to be able to control it. Otherwise you get some rather spectacular magical accidents. You’re not following this, are you?”

  Dunixan shook his head helplessly. “Why would magic be out of control?”

  “Magic follows intents. And it doesn’t have to be true intent, it can be the most random thought that crosses your mind. Say, for instance, that you looked about this tower and you wondered what it would look like if the bricks were pink. If you were a magician, one without any control of your magic, it might latch on to that and turn the walls pink.” Chuckling at his expression, she assured him, “I’m not exaggerating. I actually saw that happen once in school. One of my classmates, who’s a witch, turned our room pink in the middle of the night. Her dreams were rather interesting, shall we say. Our professor got a good laugh out of it before she changed them back. See, magic likes to be used. It will use any excuse to be used. So until these magicians are trained, we can’t trust them to run around unsupervised.”

  “And you can’t just take along untrained magicians into one battle after the next, especially since most of them are children or old people,” Dunixan completed with new understanding, although he looked a trifle vexed by this. “I understand the problem, but we need to find a long-term solution to keep magicians in this country.”

  “I completely agree. Strae Academy is being overrun with our rescued people. We don’t dare send them to Hain, we’ll never get them back. Chahir’s second magical academy is still in the process of being built and can’t possibly accept students at this point.” She spread her hands into a helpless shrug. “We can only send so many people there before they literally can’t take another person.”

  Dunixan rested his chin on top of the balcony railing, brows furrowed as he thought.

  Becca let him think as she checked in on her storm system. Lovely, it had gotten side tracked by a northeastern air current while she was distracted. With a mental crook of the finger, she yanked it back in the right direction and ordered that naughty air current to go away. There, better.

  “Why not ask Coven Ordan for help?” Dunixan turned his head again to face her. “I’m sure we can afford to hire at least a few instructors.”

  “Give them a temporary building, throw together a makeshift academy, then build something more proper in one of our already conquered cities? That’s what you’re thinking? Honestly, I’m not sure if they would come. Don’t get me wrong, Coven Ordan loves to send out people this direction as they’re highly invested in the future of magic on this continent. I’ve had the thought before of reaching out to them for help, but there’s two issues with that. One, I don’t know if they would come. The code of ethics for magicians is that we will not abuse our powers. Conquering Khobunter is…”

  “Possibly walking a razor thin wire?” Dunixan offered, mouth thinning. “You really think so?”

  “We’ve done it for very good reasons and with completely pure intentions. Well, mostly pure, as I have an unholy desire to squash the evil men in this country. Murderous intent isn’t pure, really. But it’s definitely treading a line that most magic councils will not agree with. I’m not sure if they would be willing to help us considering that. The second problem is I honestly have no idea how to reach them,” she admitted frankly. “I’ve never had to speak with them before. Trev and Nolan have no idea either. We’d have to physically send one of us over there and we’ve all been so crazy busy trying to stay alive that we didn’t feel comfortable sending anyone away for long.”

  “Then we might need to stop, take a defensive stance, and take the time to send one of you.” Dunixan’s head kept waggling back and forth as he mentally fought through issues. “Although I’m honestly not sure when. How many more students can we send to Strae before they refuse anymore?”

  “We’re probably at that limit already. Although they’ll have to take this next lot, small as it is. We don’t have any other place to put them.”

  Dunixan growled out a half-hearted curse. “I had a feeling you’d say that. We need more help, Warlord.”

  Beaming at him mock-cheerfully, she clapped her hands and exclaimed, “That’s why we were so happy when we got you.”

  “That, and it meant one less province to conquer.”

  “And that,” she agreed promptly, still with that falsely bright smile.

  Snorting, he let that one go. “So our next goal is to find a way to train magicians in this country.”

  Becca nodded in vigorous agreement. “We’re going to be in a world of trouble otherwise.”

  They left the next morning after breakfast. Trev’nor wanted to leave at the crack of dawn, of course, but his wishes could not be met when moving a whole army. It did not escape Becca’s notice that Dunixan simply stood by and watched as she got the army formed up and ready to move out. Seeing her military leadership skills in action? In his shoes, she’d certainly have done the same.

  Nolan and Trev’nor put a ward around the town as she formed everyone up. It set the inhabitants of Alred quivering and shaking again, but Becca had already explained about it three times and didn’t have the patience to soothe frayed nerves again. They’d get used to it.

  She did steal a few peeks upwards as they formed the ward, noting how it came together, frowning a little at the speed of it. Normally, a ward made by two mages went up a little faster than this. Then again, Trev’nor likely felt more than bagged out this morning. He’d gone and dropped off their rescued magicians yesterday, which meant he’d gotten back late last night. If he’d had more than five hours of sleep, Becca would be surprised.

  It took twice as long as it should have, but that meant the barrier went up nearly at the same time she had everyone ready to go. Trev’nor came around to her side, looking over everyone and giving a grunt.

  “Do I take that to mean, ‘Good job, Bec, let’s move out’?” she teased him.

  “When we get there, I’m finding a nice, shady spot and taking a nap,” he informed her, stifling a yawn.

  “That’s fine. I can manage the rest.” Turning, she gave Danyal a nod, as he was the one with the lungpower.

  “ASSUME SEATED POSITIONS!” Danyal bellowed.

  With them settled on the earthen magic carpet, Becca grasped Cat’s saddle pommel and swung herself up and aboard. Danyal surprised her by readily swinging up behind, strapping himself in. Normally she had to order the man up. What had brought this on?

  Deciding to question it in the air, she didn’t say a word, just gave the boys and Dunixan a c
asual salute. “We’ll scout ahead.”

  “Go,” Nolan encouraged, already heading for Llona.

  Cat very nicely went out a distance before launching herself up, avoiding sending the mere humans scattering from her backdraft. Becca waited until the dragon had good speed going and fell into a natural, easy going glide before risking a half-shouted conversation with the man behind her. “It’s unusual for you to come up with me.”

  “I wanted to speak to you about Dunixan.”

  Ah. This now made more sense. “You wonder why we trust him so easily?”

  “Yes.”

  Danyal had missed the first part of the Gardener’s visit. Becca had tried to explain, but apparently her explanation had left holes. “The Gardeners are the most pure race ever created, Danyal. They are incorruptible. Their only focus, at all times, is to keep the balance of this world. That means keeping it as the garden it is meant to be. It means riding herd and protecting the people that will help maintain that balance. If a Gardener has prepared Dunixan to help us, he is vital to our mission and completely trustworthy.”

  The silence behind her rang loud enough to be a shout. She let him stew in it, coming to his own conclusions and asking his own questions.

  “As you say,” he finally responded.

  Becca’s ears quirked at this. ‘As you say’ was one of Danyal’s catch phrases. It didn’t mean he agreed with you, he was just willing to drop the argument and let time prove who was right. She could live with that.

  “I heard that you are currently the only Weather Mage?”

  That question came out of the blue. Becca had to switch mental tracks before responding. She half-turned, an uncomfortable position, just to steal a glance at the man’s face. He looked remarkably stony, his expression revealing nothing of his true thoughts. “That’s correct. It’s part of the reason why the Gardeners called a Guardian for me.”

  “I also heard that mages are all required to marry?”

  Becca wondered just where he’d hear all of this from. Nolan, likely, as he was very free with all information regarding magicians. “Well, yes. No other option,” she agreed equably. This command didn’t bother Becca much as she wanted a husband and family.

  “You will consider Dunixan?”

  Becca choked on air, and she heard Cat laughing in her dragonish way. “What is it with this culture?! You people are constantly suggesting prospective marriage partners to me!”

  “You won’t consider him for marriage, then?”

  Why did the man sound relieved? Becca stole another glance at him, truly wondering what was going through his mind. He had lost half of his reserve, now looking as hopeful as a puppy with a bone in view. “No, likely not. He seems a fine man, but he’s not my type.”

  Danyal didn’t seem inclined to argue this point, just nodded amiably. “It will be difficult to decide on a bride price for you. We must consider this now, have it settled, as you’ll soon have suitors coming for you.”

  So many parts of that statement disturbed her that Becca dearly wished she had a headache potion on hand. Sometimes being a mage instead of a witch aggravated her sorely. “Danyal. I realize in this culture that you still have bride prices, and dowries, but I really hope to discontinue that practice. It drives people into poverty. It’s not a good financial practice. Think about it. How many men do you know, good men that would be good husbands and fathers, who aren’t married because they literally can’t afford it?”

  The wind picked up a little as Cat flapped, gaining more speed before coasting again. The dragon, Becca felt sure, listened intently in on this conversation. And likely reported every word to Nolan, just for the boys’ amusement. Dragons were sneaky that way.

  When the air steadied around them again, enabling them to speak without shouting, Danyal ventured cautiously, “All dowries?”

  “All,” Becca stated firmly. “In fact, I’ll set the example. There will be no bride price or dowry with me.”

  “This is not something done in Chahir?”

  “Not among magicians, certainly. I think the aristocracy still does it to some degree but it’s a tradition that’s losing steam.”

  “I see.”

  He didn’t, clearly, but when Becca stole a glance, he seemed happy about this declaration. As he should, since it would mean his own chances of getting married just improved drastically. As Becca understood it, the man actually had debts to pay off because he’d been on short pay for so long he could barely afford to eat.

  Feeling as if she should say something else, she tacked on, “I’ll only marry for love, Danyal. Not for any other reason. Duty might demand it of me, in many senses, but I look at it this way. I’ve been handed a very difficult road to walk, one overrun with obstacles and heartache. I think that I am due some personal happiness, don’t you?”

  He grasped her arm in a gentle squeeze, voice rich and warm. “I certainly do, my Raya. I most certainly do.”

  They made good time to the Ruins of Rheben. Trev’nor brought them in just after lunch. He still found the method of creating a moving earth platform for people to sit on cumbersome and slow, at best, but half the army still had a fear of being underground and couldn’t tolerate it at all. Even above the ground, he was supposed to hold to a certain speed, nothing faster than a trotting horse. Supposedly. (He might have moved a little faster than he told people he would.) His whole plan that morning involved taking a nap as soon as they arrived, but once the ruins came in sight, he experienced a surge of energy. Something about this place always teased at his curiosity.

  He stopped just in front of the southern wall, or what remained of it. Before they moved on, he really wanted to fix as much of that wall as possible. Maybe scout around and fix a few buildings, too. Over the last few weeks, they’d spoken several times about needing a magical academy of their own, of not sending all of their rescued magicians on to Strae. Trev’nor didn’t have any idea where they would find instructors, but he knew this much: He wanted to build the academy here, in the ruins. It seemed only appropriate to do so, in this place where magic had been introduced to Khobunter.

  So maybe while they were here, he could find a good building for it, get the structure sound and ready.

  Only when the ground came to a dead stop did people cautiously get off. From the air, Cat swooped in, landing gently. Trev’nor could hear Commander Danyal bellowing out orders, for people to set a perimeter line, for others to start scouting the area, for yet others to find good buildings to set up camp in. Trev’nor automatically assigned himself to the camp group, as they’d definitely need his help.

  As he got up, he noticed that something during the trip up here had changed. Danyal always possessed this expression of adoration on his face whenever he looked at Becca. Usually covered by a mask of professionalism, granted, but even a blind man could tell the man had a crush on her. But something had changed, and now that expression shone more open, a little more noticeable. Trev’nor bumped Nolan’s shoulder and jerked his chin to indicate the two as Danyal helped Becca down from the dragon.

  “I see it,” Nolan said softly, eyes narrowed in a speculative manner. “She’s said or done something to give him hope. I wonder if she sees it?”

  “Shad shut every boy down that tried to approach her. I’m not sure if she’s got a lot of experience with men.” Trev’nor would bet she had none, in fact. “Maybe one of us should cue her up?”

  Nolan took a half step in, making this conversation even more private. “You think we should?”

  The way he asked this concerned Trev’nor. Lowering his head a smidge, he asked in a near whisper, “You don’t think Danyal’s a good catch?”

  “He’s got a good decade on her, at least, in age.”

  Well, true. Not that it bothered Trev’nor any. The Tonkowacon didn’t care about age differences and that attitude had stuck with him. “Yup. And?”

  Nolan gave him an odd look. “Not an issue with you, apparently. You think Danyal’s a good match for
her?”

  “I think he fills the shoes that Becca’s prospective husband needs to. He’s a good soldier, he’s savvy enough to protect her, and he’s smart enough to know when to back away.”

  Nolan snorted, putting a fist in front of his mouth to mask a smile. “True, it takes a certain amount of survival instincts to live with her.”

  While he wanted to talk a little more about this, Trev’nor saw several soldiers peeking hopefully in his direction, which meant they needed help with something. Recognizing that duty called, he shrugged. “More on this later. You handle dragons, I’ll handle camp.”

  “Done.” Nolan turned and sauntered off, calling out in Dragonese as he went.

  Belatedly, Trev’nor called to his friend’s back: “Warn them about the fuzzies!”

  Nolan swore, then shouted back, “I’ll take care of it!”

  Trev’nor rolled up his sleeves and went to work himself, pointing out the safer structures to use for camp, repairing areas that proved dangerous, fixing a few of the roads so equipment could easily be brought in. Rheben had been built with space in mind, the roads wide enough for three carts abreast, the arches over the roads tall enough that a dragon could saunter underneath with no trouble. The long ago Earth and Elemental Mages who had constructed the place had not cut corners, as the main structures still held up very well. Most of the damage came from the broken irrigation systems, sun rot, and wind.

  The earth and stone in the city leapt to obey his command, making it easy to restore the section near the gate into a more habitable place. As he worked, he explained to the soldiers nearby what they were seeing—how the aqueducts worked, how the city’s supports had been built, how that narrow bed over there was actually a dry fountain, and so on. The soldiers peppered him with questions, curious about the use of magic in crafting the structures.

  Perhaps Ehsan or Azin heard him. Perhaps one of them spoke to the other about it. All Trev’nor knew was that he came out of a building, looking for the next thing to fix, and found that all of the water fountains in this part of the city suddenly worked. On every corner, water came tumbling out of the interior fountains, tracing down the sandstone walls. Pure and clear, it streamed along the narrow routes, sprouting up sometimes in a courtyard fountain, or flowing gently down stony walls into dry garden beds. The smell of the air changed, turning from dusty to slightly moist, the sound of moving water echoing like music through the deserted structures. It brought more life to the city and Trev’nor beamed to see it.