men had been free.
Rik shook his head at that folly. They had not been free. They had merely bowed their heads before different and darker gods. And there had been rulers then too, priests and kings. There would always be rulers and ruled, rich and poor. There always had been. There always would.
It is the way of the world, he thought. God likes order. He likes hierarchy. Only fools believed the Liberator would come and that men would be free. But there had been progress, another part of him argued. The Schism had ended most forms of serfdom in the Scarlet Realms. Men did have a voice in the councils of the great, albeit not a very loud one. The Queen had guaranteed the property rights of humans. Some humans had even become rich working in trade. Lickspittles and toadies, the lot of them, he thought sourly.
The signal to halt interrupted his reverie. The wyrms stopped. It seemed like they had arrived wherever they were supposed to go.
They stood to attention in the watery late afternoon sunlight and waited for the Lieutenant to explain the plan.
“Now, men,” Sardec said. Again, he made the word sound like it was the worst possible insult. “We have business.”
A bridgeback gave out a rumbling belch. Sardec glared at it as if he was going to order the beast flogged. Nobody laughed. The Lieutenant walked up and down the line, his hands behind his back. He paused in front of Rik and looked almost disappointed to see all the requisite buttons present on his tunic. The wizard looked on behind Sardec, his silver-masked head cocked to one side, conveying an air of patronising amusement.
Vosh, the mountain man, looked nervous as Rik supposed he had every reason to be. He would have a whole lot of upset kinfolk down on him if he were spotted with the Terrarch’s soldiery.
The Foragers were keen to hear exactly why they had been dragged up these God-benighted, freezing mountains. They were even keener to know when they would get the business over and get out again.
“We know bandits have based themselves up here. We know they have eluded you for some time,” Sardec said. That you was a nice touch, Rik thought. It showed that their Terrarch leaders had nothing to do with the failures of mere humans. It told them that things were going to go differently now one of the Lords of Creation had taken a hand. “We know also they have made a pact with a sorcerer of the darkest type.”
He paused to give that time to sink in. Rik saw several men go pale and not a few shudder. Everybody made the Elder Sign against evil with their right hand. He looked at their own wizard’s impassive, partially masked face. Fight magic with magic was one of the oldest rules of warfare.
It certainly explained why scryers could never find the Prophet’s men. If they had a wizard shielding them, they would not be easy to view. Of course, that begged several other questions. For instance, what was a mage doing in this god forsaken place, and why had he aligned himself with the local riffraff?
Any wizard competent enough to thwart a Magister’s scrying could surely find service with someone willing to pay. Unless, of course, he was one of those so mad or so dark that no one else would have him. That would make him an outstanding specimen of depravity.
“Take him alive if you can,” said Severin, speaking for the first time. His voice was surprisingly deep and musical when he addressed a crowd.
“That might be easier said than done, master,” said the Sergeant.
“It will not be. I shall overpower his defences and leave him paralysed. All you need do is slay or drive off his guardians and claim the body.”
“How will we tell which one he is, master?” The Sergeant asked. It was a not unreasonable question.
“He will be the only Terrarch present barring the Lieutenant and myself. I trust identifying such a one should provide no insuperable difficulties.”
Supercilious twat, Rik thought, but the more subservient types chuckled fawningly. There were always plenty of those in the army, even in the Foragers.
“Alive if you can, dead if you must,” Master Severin said.
The Lieutenant looked on, not a little displeased at having his place at the centre of attention so summarily usurped and decided that the time had come to exert his control of matters once more.
“The bandits are camped out down in the valley. They have occupied a ruined manor house; its walls are thick but holed in several places and hopefully they too should provide no insuperable difficulties.”
Rik was impressed by his confidence. If he ran true to form Sardec would lead from the front. Personally Rik didn’t fancy charging a fortified position in the teeth of mountain marksmen.
“The moon will be out this evening,” said the Lieutenant. “We shall commence the assault once it is full dark. Anything to add, Master Severin?”
The wizard nodded. “Make sure that you are all wearing your Elder Signs. Do not get too close to the mansion house until after the signal to attack is given. Tonight the Crimson Shadows will descend on our enemies.”
Men muttered to themselves. It looked like very powerful sorcery was going to be unleashed. Master Severin raised his hands for quiet.
“Do not worry. There will still be work for you. We want some prisoners taken for interrogation, and it is quite likely the sorcerer and any bodyguards he might have will be protected against my magic.”
“Thank the Light for that,” muttered Weasel. “I mean we would not want our lives to be too easy now, would we?”
At least Sardec had given matters that much thought, to give him credit. Their arrival had obviously been timed with this plan in mind. Perhaps he was more competent than Rik had thought, or perhaps the whole plan had been thought up by someone else.
“Any questions, men?” Sardec asked.
“How many enemy, sir?” asked Sergeant Hef.
'About forty tribesmen. The so-called Prophet’s band.”
“The Prophet, sir? Zarahel?” Hef asked.
“Zarahel, indeed. The preacher of the resurrection of the Old Gods. Don’t worry Sergeant. I know there is a price on his head. Your men shall all share the prize money.”
Again, that sneering tone of voice, Rik thought. Sardec was, of course, above such considerations or affected to be. The majority of the prize would find its way into his pocket anyway. Officers took the lion’s share of such cash. It recompensed them for the price of their commissions.
“What about the wizard, sir?” asked Weasel. “Any bounty on him?”
There usually were bounties on dark sorcerers. The temple offered them and many wealthy private individuals contributed to this worthy cause. Dark magic was feared by everybody, particularly by those who had most to lose.
“I will authorise payment to each of the men who take him of a gold crown from my own personal funds, in addition to the usual state bounty” said Master Severin. 'Double if you take him alive. Lieutenant Sardec is my witness.'
That got a few mutters of approval. A man could stay drunk for a month on a crown.
“Something against him, eh master?” said Weasel. The wizard merely stared at him coldly.
“That is none of your business,” he said. From his tone Rik suspected that things might go ill for Weasel once the dark mage was caught. Weasel probably did too, but no sign of it showed on his face.
“You’re right, sir, beg your pardon, sir; I let my enthusiasm for the task at hand carry my tongue away.”
Sardec reasserted command. “Sergeant Hef, take your squad and begin to scout the entrance to the valley while there is yet light. Corporal Toby, accompany the Sergeant with your squad. Do not stray too far from the ridge-line. We do not want to trip any wards there might be, do we?”
Both men nodded and gestured for their men to fall in. It seemed that battle would soon be upon them.
Chapter Four
