western lands should the Wesmen complete the job the demons had begun in Julatsa. The Wesmen Lord had spies in the field near each college and was not as blind as the demons liked to think he was.
He had his chair brought up for him. It was horse hide, padded and stretched across a hardwood frame. High-backed, it was stitched with the Paleon crest. He settled into it and accepted a mug of herb infusion. He cupped his hands around it gratefully, the warmth combating a little of the freezing midday air. His furs were gathered about his shoulders and he had let his beard and hair grow thick, covering much of his battle-scarred face.
Settling into his chair, his lieutenants around him and every warrior tasked to show nothing but strength and belief, he waited for the demon to issue across the ground. He watched its tentacles rippling beneath its torso and was pleased to see its colour brighten to a mid-blue, its temper already frayed by Tessaya's lack of respect for its authority.
Closer to, he could see its brow was pinched in hard on its hairless head. Its nostril slits were flared and its long-fingered hands were clasped together in front of its writhing chest. It came to a halt about ten feet from him. It towered better than twenty feet above him, a fetid smell drifting on the light breeze. An imposing figure but impotent to do him harm.
'You push my patience to its limit, Wesman,' it said.
'Let us at least use the names we know we have,' said Tessaya, taking a sip of his drink. 'Unless, Drenoul, you wish me to call you 'demon'. Can I offer you a beverage?'
'I would rather chew my own body than accept the filth you drink,' replied Drenoul. 'Enough, I have a great deal to do. I will hear your answer to my proposal.'
'A moment,' said Tessaya, raising a finger. He beckoned one of his lieutenants close. 'Speak softly and make as if you are responding to my questions. I think this demon needs to understand its place in the eyes of Wesmen.'
'Indeed, my Lord,' said the warrior. 'One thing that might interest you is that we have received a scout from the college of Lystern recently.'
'Really?'
'He reports the college is on the verge of breaking.'
'Ah, something of a shame. I would hate to see the enemy forces able to divert north to join the Xetesk batdeground. Is there any indication as to their ability to hang on for any length of time?'
The warrior shrugged. 'They like all mages have proved themselves tenacious. It is inconceivable that they will simply roll over.'
'We will talk more later,' said Tessaya. He turned back to Drenoul. 'My apologies, I was reminding myself of the detail of your offer.'
Drenoul breathed out in a snarl. Its fingers unclasped and grasped at the air in front of it. Its colour lightened a shade further.
'As I understand it,' said Tessaya, 'you felt that we would best serve you by attacking Julatsa and its attendant elven defence under your local commander's direction. The reward for this was a promise that you would not seek to enslave my peoples.'
'That is an accurate summation.'
'What I nor my ruling cadre can understand is why you would make this offer. You have consistendy told me over the last two years that we could not hope to stand against you once the colleges had fallen and magic destroyed. Yet here you are plainly unable to complete your task and apparently needing my assistance. You'll understand my scepticism and my reluctance to trust a race for
whom utter dominion has long appeared to be the only conceivable goal.'
Drenoul was quiet for some time, forcing its colour back to a more palatable deep blue.
'We would concede some surprise at the length of college resistance,' it said eventually. 'And we want a swift resolution to allow us to take rightful control over the mage lands and the entirety of eastern Balaia. Those who aid us will be treated as allies in the years to come. Those who stand by or oppose us will be enslaved. There is your choice.'
Tessaya smiled, knowing it a patronising gesture. 'Or perhaps the reality is that without us you do not have the strength to beat the colleges and never will have. Perhaps you have lost more of your minions than you expected and your forces, finite as they must be, are actually being stretched.'
Drenoul flashed bright sky-blue. 'And perhaps you need a personal demonstration of our strength, Tessaya. The loss of Wesmen Spirits might serve to remind you of your tenuous hold on your own life.'
Tessaya fought the urge to stand, and instead leaned back further into his chair. 'But you cannot afford to, can you, Drenoul? Is it not true that should you send a force capable of taking some of my warriors, you would compromise your siege of Xetesk, or of Lystern or Julatsa, and allow them to strike out?
'You do not frighten me, Drenoul. Nor do you frighten any of those I command. I am aware we cannot kill you or any of your race but neither can you break us with a touch or a cut. My warriors are strong and they are numerous. We can keep you back at will. We have Understone Pass at our backs. We are a problem you wish you didn't have to face. As are the elves. Easterners are weak, their spirits are vulnerable. And in two years you have failed to break them. What makes you think you will ever be able to break us?'
Drenoul made a move forwards and immediately eight warriors drew their weapons and responded. Drenoul stopped, his colour now a thin, pale blue verging on white.
'Your words will not save you when we march on your helpless lands, Tessaya. They will ring hollow in your ears. The offer is withdrawn.'
Drenoul floated high into the sky, turned and flew quickly back towards Julatsa.
Tessaya pushed himself from his chair. 'Withdrawn? Rejected, I would suggest.' He looked for the lieutenant again. 'They don't need us to help them fight in Julatsa, I am certain of it. But they want us out of the way. Every scout that returns from the north, I want reporting immediately to me.'
'Yes, my Lord.'
Tessaya began to walk back towards the fires at the centre of the camp.
'Something is about to happen. Something critical. I can feel it.'
Dystran and Vuldaroq were studying one of the more arcane and complex texts stolen from the library when the change in atmosphere happened. It was quite sudden, like the sun burning through thin cloud to warm the earth. They were in Dystran's chambers, surrounded by guards and with their few script-scholars nearby. These latter four were working on language which had defeated both the senior mages.
It took Dystran a while to work out what it was that had alerted his subconscious and caused him to look up and through his closed balcony windows.
'What has just happened?' he asked, pushing his chair back.
'You were struggling to decipher this word and wondered where it was they went, whoever they were, and if there are any of them left,' said Vuldaroq, a half-smile on his thin face.
Dystran glanced sideways at Vuldaroq as he got up. How strange the fortunes of Balaia had revealed themselves to be. Vuldaroq was a man that Dystran would gladly have seen swinging from a tree in the college courtyard before the demons had invaded. But without losing any of his trademark bite, the head of the Dordovan college had revealed himself to be a man of depth and strength as well as possessing a sharp analytical mind. It had taken him some time to throw off the memories of his flight from Dordover but he and his few mages had proved a tonic in the college of their erstwhile enemies.
If only they could break down the terminology contained in the texts Sharyr had brought back. Something important was eluding
him and it was based around an allusion to a people called the Charanacks. They held knowledge, so the text maintained, that had been the basis of the first deal struck between demon and Xeteskian mage well over a millennium ago. Dystran was frustrated. He'd have loved to know who they were. They would almost certainly be worth talking to.
T don't mean that,' said Dystran. He walked to the balcony doors and opened them, standing inside while his guards gathered about him. 'Just listen.'
Everyone in the chamber did so. Dystran saw a frown cross Vuldaroq's face.
'Quiet,' he said.
'Silence more like,' said Dystran.
