The Diamond Isle Page 8

  ‘It’s strange to hear you talking that way, sir,’ Wellem observed.

  ‘I’ve never denied the possibility of a spiritual domain, only the malign part it can play in people’s lives. Perhaps we are directed by gods for their own fickle reasons. Who knows?’

  ‘And you intend seeking this man,’ Sephor asked, ‘assuming he’s real?’

  ‘I’m sure he’s real, and somehow I have the feeling that in moving south I’m drawing nearer to him.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t ask me how.’

  They were climbing another hill, much steeper than the previous one. The vanguard of the army was close on their heels.

  ‘Have you managed to identify the power lines in this area?’ Zerreiss said.

  ‘As best we could, sir,’ Sephor replied, ‘but there’s an abnormality nearby. In fact, we should be able to see it any minute now.’

  They trudged to the peak and took in a panoramic view. Straight ahead, perhaps a mile distant, stood a substantial walled township. An impressive fortress rose at its heart, pulsating with magical defences, whilst outside the settlement’s gates an army was massed, waiting for the onslaught. It was an arresting sight, but not the most dramatic to be seen; that was to the west, and all eyes were drawn to it.

  On the horizon, a geyser of magical energy spurted high into the sky. It might have been said to resemble an anchored tornado, except that it displayed qualities no normal storm ever possessed. Every colour of the spectrum vied for dominance within its swirling interior, and the whole swaying column glowed with a silvery radiance. Its base generated thick clouds of vibrant, sparkling dust which also constantly altered colour. Within those clouds, things moved, shapes that melted, mutated and defied clarity.

  The column’s tip reached a giddy height. Above it, the snow-heavy clouds acted as a vast canvas for a pageant of images painted by the escaping magic. They were ever changing, and never quite settled on a definite likeness. Yet to any looking on they suggested a myriad possibilities. Beasts real and imagined seemed to dwell there, along with giant insects, birds, blooming flowers, phantom armies, blazing comets, faces beautiful and grotesque, and oceans breaking against imaginary shorelines. The effect was hypnotic.

  ‘A rupture,’ Zerreiss stated. ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Several months, apparently,’ Sephor explained. ‘We’re not sure what set it off. Possibly a landside.’

  ‘Look on it,’ the warlord commanded, ‘and see the very essence of what we oppose. You’ll have no better portrait of that which enslaves those we hope to free.’

  ‘It can’t be denied that it has a certain splendour, my lord.’

  ‘It’s beguiling all right. So is a blue pit-spider, a gold ring-serpent or a pride of barbcats. This is just as beautiful, and more deadly than all of them put together.’

  ‘It does have one advantage, sir, in that it’s likely to bleed the magic in these parts, and reduce the amount available to the defenders.’ Sephor gestured at the settlement with a gloved hand.

  ‘You forget how irrelevant that is to us.’

  The aide grinned. ‘Of course, sir. Silly of me.’

  ‘As I said, Sephor, have faith.’

  ‘What are your orders, sir?’ Wellem enquired.

  ‘I see no reason to change our customary method. The defenders must be given the chance to lay down their arms.’

  ‘The negotiators were sent out in advance, my lord, with the usual offer.’ He stared at the barren area in front of the settlement below. A small group of riders was heading their way. ‘I think that’s them returning now. Sephor, you have better sight than me.’

  The young aide cupped his eyes with his hands. ‘Yes, it’s them. The leader’s holding a pennant. It’s…red.’

  Zerreiss sighed. ‘As I feared. When will they learn that there doesn’t have to be bloodshed?’

  ‘They’re terrified of you, my lord,’ Wellem said. ‘They must have heard the stories about you being merciful, but somehow they don’t think it applies to them. All they take on board is that you’re a conqueror. We’ve seen it before.’

  ‘Or they have a greater fear of their masters than of me. Another case of better the devil you know.’

  ‘Professional fighting men don’t easily abandon their posts, sir. And rarely on the word of a warlord they know little about. It’s not to be wondered at that they’d make a stand.’

  ‘The contrary thing,’ Sephor commented, ‘is that inside a week I’ll wager half of them will be riding with us. Empire soldiers or not.’

  ‘Another irony I’m not blind to,’ Zerreiss came back. ‘If there was one thing it was in my power to alter, it would be the human cost of our campaign.’

  ‘How do we proceed, sir?’ Wellem asked.

  ‘Bring the army into plain sight, and let the siege engines be seen. Show them what they’re up against. Then we’ll give them a final opportunity to surrender with honour. Failing that…’

  ‘We fight.’

  ‘Not before I’ve tilted the odds in our favour. There’s still a chance we can avoid a slaughter.’

  ‘You’ll do it now, sir?’

  ‘There’s no point in waiting.’

  Experience had taught Wellem and Sephor that there was no need to leave their master’s side when he performed the deed. Nevertheless, they did. It seemed prudent to stand well away in the face of such awe-inspiring power.

  As word spread from the hilltop and down through the ranks of Zerreiss’s army, they fell silent, too. The drums were stilled. Even the horses and oxen grew quiet, if restive.

  Standing on the hill’s summit, focused on the besieged settlement, the warlord raised his arms.

  And the change began.

  7

  Winters were slightly more temperate in the west, but that didn’t mean Merakasa, the sprawling capital of Gath Tampoor’s empire, escaped being touched by cheerless weather. Indeed, the city was suffering a harsh winter in Gath Tampoorian terms, with acerbic winds and unremitting snowfall.

  But it took more than low temperatures and driving sleet to dampen the populace’s enthusiasm for displaying their status. In Merakasa, as in most of the supposedly civilised world, status equated to wealth. And for those who possessed it, the flaunting of riches meant the conspicuous expenditure of magic.

  As in many other things, an element of fashion dictated what was considered stylish in sorcery, and one way this showed itself was in seasonal magic. The glamours conjured for winter reflected that season, or at least the rituals and folklore associated with it, so that at any given time dozens of likenesses of Jex Rime could be seen flying above the city. Jex Rime was a mythical spirit who dispensed gifts during the solstice festivities. He rode an open sky carriage, pulled by twelve pure white lizards, all of whom had names every child knew by heart. Now and then a set of lizards, carriage and benign occupant would flare into nothingness as their magic expired, or their owners grew bored with them.

  At street level, bulky animate men, supposedly made of snow, lumbered along the pavements, beaming kindly smiles with lips of coal. Depending on the spell, they could be made to melt at a fixed rate. It wasn’t unusual to see them wading on stumpy legs, delivering cheery waves with handless arms. Critics of the empire’s increasing decadence pointed to the fact that most people found this very amusing.

  On chic lawns, small armies of doll-sized ice pixies waged war with icicle swords for well-wrapped dinner party guests. When struck a mortal blow, the pixies shattered into a thousand crystalline fragments–the wounded merely shed icy pearl tears.

  Smart landaus passed, drawn by purple reindeer. Frostbarbs, hardy mountain cousins of the more familiar barbcats, appeared on leafy avenues, their usually white fur striped or polka-dotted. Patinas of unseasonable flowers broke out on the walls of mansions. Glamour archers loosed ghostly arrows that winged harmlessly through living targets. Geese sang, giants walked cobbled lanes, hoary stardust fell on heaving pavements.

  But gaiety and hedonism
didn’t hold sway in every part of the city. In the rundown quarters, elaborate magic was most often used as an instrument of control, or as state weaponry. Recent unrest added to the air of repression. Alive to the reality of a resistance movement previously thought negligible, and following the example set in the Bhealfan colony, the authorities were bent on rooting it out. This made swathes of Merakasa dangerous places to be.

  At the centre of the city was an extensive enclave, sanctuary of the empire’s rulers. Flags bearing Gath Tampoor’s fire-breathing dragon emblem flew from its tallest towers. Its gates and lofty ramparts were heavily guarded by conventional forces and glamoured defences. It was a place outsiders were seldom invited to enter, and a summons to do so was rarely welcomed.

  A woman stood on a high balcony. Her age would be hard to guess, beyond the fact that she was evidently very old. She tried to hide the fact with face paints, hair dyes and other artificial aids, but only succeeded in giving herself an appearance verging on the grotesque.

  Empress Bethmilno, the twenty-fifth of her ancient line so named, wielded more power than anyone else in the whole of Gath Tampoor.

  She shivered and came back into the stateroom. ‘I’m cold,’ she complained, moving towards a massive ornamented fireplace. ‘I remember a time when variations in temperature meant nothing to us, no matter how great.’

  ‘Things change, grandmother,’ her companion said. Like all members of her inner circle, he was a blood relation, though an impartial observer might think he looked curiously old to be one of her grandchildren.

  ‘Not always for the better,’ she replied tetchily, warming her hands at the blaze. ‘Look at the disorder that’s sweeping through our streets.’

  ‘Isn’t that simply the current expression of grievances that have always been with us?’

  ‘It’s change,’ the Empress insisted, ‘and for the worse. Not that long ago our subjects wouldn’t have dared bear arms against us.’

  ‘We can deal with it. Look at the success Laffon’s CIS and the paladins have had against these people on Bhealfa.’

  ‘How successful was it if a pack of them got away to that damned pleasure island? We’ve allowed them a stronghold from which to spread their contagion.’

  ‘Or neatly concentrated them. All the better to eradicate them.’

  ‘The sooner we do that, the happier I’ll be. We’ve allowed the rebels too much latitude as it is. It sets a bad example.’ She came away from the fireplace and seated herself. ‘But that’s not all that’s changed. Disruptions to the energy grid are growing more frequent and stronger. That really does worry me. Rebels we can put to the sword. What’s happening in the matrix isn’t so easily corrected, even if we knew what the defect was.’

  ‘I admit that’s a problem of a different order, grandmother. But surely with the expertise we’ve built up over so long–’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But there are few precedents. This isn’t the first time the matrix has been prone to disturbance, though the last was many years ago and we had some idea then of what caused it. There are no indications this time. I can’t help feeling that the current upheaval portends something.’

  There was a knock on the door, followed by the entrance of a retainer who announced a guest. The Empress waved the servant away.

  ‘That will be Talgorian. You may set the timer, then leave us.’

  A large hourglass sat on the mantelpiece. Her grandson upended it. The fine golden sand began to flow.

  As he went out, a younger man was ushered in.

  Andar Talgorian was of middle years. He was lean and vigorous, wore a stylishly barbered beard and dressed in the latest courtly attire. In keeping with his role as the Imperial Envoy to Bhealfa, he sported his air of diplomatic calm like a second skin. In truth, it wasn’t how he felt. He found it irksome to have been recalled to the capital so frequently in recent months, and his annoyance was heightened by the prospect of an audience with Bethmilno. Being in her presence always made him anxious.

  ‘Your journey here was comfortable?’ she began.

  He gave a deep bow. ‘Tolerably, thank you, Excellency.’

  She indicated a lower chair for him.

  ‘I trust I find you in good health, ma’am,’ Talgorian ventured, sinking into the cushions.

  ‘Tolerably.’

  Her slightly mocking use of his word was discomfiting. He maintained a bland smile.

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point, Ambassador,’ the Empress continued. ‘Some of the recent developments in Bhealfa have been gratifying to us. The revolutionaries have suffered a severe blow, and inroads have been made in restoring proper respect for our authority.’

  ‘Thank you, Highness.’ He felt uneasy. Experience showed that a compliment often came before a fall.

  ‘However, certain aspects of what’s been happening in Bhealfa are less pleasing.’

  ‘Majesty?’

  ‘A number of the traitors were allowed to escape to other shores. And it appears that a hardcore of rebels is still entrenched in the principality. This is not satisfactory.’

  ‘With respect, Highness, the security forces, local and imperial, have responsibility in these matters.’

  ‘Be assured I’ll be making the point to them too, Ambassador. But the issue we’re discussing now is the diplomatic corps’ part in this. Your job is to convey our wishes to the relevant agencies. It seems there has been a lack of liaison in that respect.’

  He thought this unjust, but refrained from voicing an opinion.

  ‘No efforts must be spared to eradicate these rebels,’ she went on. ‘You’ll work more closely with the CIS and the paladins on it. This is my will, as you’ll make clear to any who question the policy. Is that understood?’

  ‘It is, Majesty.’ If she believed the security forces were being too soft, Talgorian didn’t agree. Again, he held his peace. He valued his head too much.

  ‘Good. As for the so-called Diamond Isle…well, it leaves us with a mess to clear up.’

  ‘Indeed, ma’am.’

  ‘Though it may not fall entirely on Gath Tampoor’s shoulders.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Excellency?’

  ‘We know that Rintarah’s been plagued by insurgency as much as we have, and some of their troublemakers fled to the Diamond Isle too. As they currently have more protectorates in that region than we do, they might feel compelled to act. We’d be content if they so decided.’

  ‘I’m…surprised, Majesty. We’ve always regarded Rintarah as being prime suspects in stirring up the insurgency.’

  ‘I now have reason to doubt they’re behind more than a small percentage of it. As are we, against them. Indications are that the Resistance is largely self-directed.’

  Talgorian was adrift. ‘Not long since, you spoke of possible war with Rintarah, and–’

  ‘Nothing’s changed,’ the Empress returned sternly. ‘Our differences remain. I’m simply stating that our aims aren’t necessarily incompatible. We share a common interest in stamping out this canker.’

  ‘You’re suggesting some kind of cooperation might be possible, Majesty?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. My view is that, in the event, we wouldn’t stand in Rintarah’s way. The important thing is that the insurgents be eliminated. Particularly as we have reason to believe they might be aligned with a force that could…inconvenience us.’ He wanted to ask who, but she ploughed on. ‘We must be conscious of the greater picture. The empires have mutual interests beyond the rebels. Events should be seen in that context.’

  ‘Do you have anything particular in mind, Majesty?’

  ‘News is coming in of attacks on our far north outposts.’

  ‘I’ve heard nothing about that, ma’am.’

  ‘We have our sources.’ She meant the matrix. A subject he was ignorant of, as were all but her inner circle. ‘Reports are vague at the moment, but naturally our first thought was that Rintarah was behind it. But we’ve learnt that their settlements
have been attacked too. That, and certain features of the attacks, lead us to wonder if another might be to blame.’

  ‘Zerreiss.’ He all but whispered the name.

  ‘I give you credit here, Talgorian. You were one of the first to appreciate the threat this warlord might pose. The suspicion has to be that he’s expanding his dominance, and in attacking both empires perhaps he hopes to create even more bad blood between us. Should he and the rebels link up, we could be facing a major irritant. Can you see why it wouldn’t be in our best interests to obstruct Rintarah if it chose to oppose him?’

  ‘I can, Highness. Though it’s a strategy not without risks. If Rintarah and Zerreiss come to an accommodation, what’s to stop them forming an alliance against us?’

  ‘He’s unlikely to reach an understanding with them or us. The man has the instincts of a conqueror, not an appeaser. He’d see the empires as natural enemies.’

  ‘So the expedition we sent into his region, that we haven’t heard from–’

  ‘Must be assumed lost due to his actions, yes. Rintarah’s too, for that matter.’

  ‘That alone would constitute an act of war, Majesty.’

  ‘I’m aware of the rules of engagement, Ambassador. Not that we need be burdened by such niceties.’ She glanced at the sand-timer on the mantelpiece. The grains were running out. ‘We’ve aired these topics sufficiently for now, and other affairs will shortly require my attention.’

  ‘Of course, ma’am.’ He made to rise.

  ‘Stay where you are. This audience is not quite over.’

  Talgorian lowered himself back into the chair, a sheepish expression on his face.

  ‘I have something else to convey. It concerns the Bhealfan domestic situation, and a task I wish you to handle personally.’

  ‘How may I be of service, Excellency?’ He said this with some trepidation.

  ‘We have spoken many times about Melyobar’s behaviour. It’s no secret that he’s a tremendous drain on the protectorate’s resources, and he brings authority into disrepute and ridicule.’