Arch Wizard

Chapter Eleven

But Ironthorn must have interested Malraun for some reason in the first place!'

The urge to talk, the restlessness that made him want to get up and move was still strong, but Rod found that he could govern his tongue now. Not that he saw any need to make that obvious, if the warcaptain still felt like talking. 'Is it your farms, in the midst of all this forest?'

Syregorn snorted. 'Hardly. There are farms beyond counting across Falconfar. It's the gemadars.'

Rod didn't quite dare to seem ignorant of what gemadars were, but the warcaptain was already doggedly embarking on educating this simpleton of a Lord Archwizard. Doing a terse but accurate job of it, too.

Gemadars were busy Ironthar smiths, the sons and prentices of those who'd first learned how to bond sharpened gemstones to the edges of swords to make them astonishingly sharp and strong. The sort of swords that had recently become the rage among the wealthy of the Stormar, the black-bearded, dusky-skinned folk who dwelt in their hot, crowded cities along the coasts of the Sea of Storms.

Syregorn seemed personally insulted by this interest taken in his home hold by outlanders from afar. Rod decided to try to steer him back to Ironthorn itself.

'I–I confess I know not enough of how things stand in Ironthorn just now,' he interrupted, waving his hand in a way that had the more spell-fearing knights rising to hurl their daggers. Thankfully, in the suddenly tense silence, none of them did.

Into it, Rod spoke earnestly, playing the innocent dolt for all he was worth, rueful that the act wasn't much of a stretch. 'Lord Burrim I had heard of, and liked what I heard. Yet tell me of his rivals; who are these Lyroses, really? There are others, too; I can hardly aid you if I know not who I'm fighting.'

'That's true,' Syregorn admitted, as knights started to relax and sit down again. 'I…' he sighed, obviously at a loss over where to begin.

'Syre,' Thalden spoke up gently, 'let me.'

The warcaptain gave the older knight a hard stare for a few moments, then nodded.

Thalden turned his head to meet Rod's eyes directly. 'Lord Archwizard, as we sit here Ironthorn is ruled uneasily by three rival lords. We serve the best of them, Lord Burrim Hammerhand. His badge is the iron gauntlet, on a field of battle-blood. Of living kin, he has only Amteira left, now; his wife, the Lady Venyarla, was raped and butchered years ago by Melvarl Lyrose-'

There were growls and the hisses of indrawn breath from all around Rod, as knightly faces went hard and cold.

'— father of the current Lord Magrandar Lyrose. Lord Hammerhand avenged her, slaying Melvarl blade to blade.'

More growls, of grim satisfaction this time.

'From Hammerhold, our lord rules most of Ironthorn: its northernmost three valleys, with all their farms, and Irontarl, the vale's market town and ford over the Thorn River. Lord Hammerhand is and has long been the foremost lord of Ironthorn-because of us, his loyal warriors. Yet he dislikes and shuns magic, and so has suffered in recent seasons as his rivals Lyrose and Tesmer have used magic against him; wherefore his recent embrace of the faith of the Forestmother.'

There were some muted mutterings; these knights were not overjoyed by the Lord Leaf, it seemed.

Thalden's voice rose a trifle. 'It is needful,' he said firmly, 'that you know why House Hammerhand are the rightful rulers of Ironthorn, and other claims are empty.'

He leaned forward, staring hard into Rod's eyes to make sure the Lord Archwizard was listening. 'Long ago the wizard Orthaunt, who then ruled Ironthorn by cruel force of magic, proclaimed the Hammerhands rulers in his stead when he went off to war against another wizard. That other was Lorontar, who mockingly sent the talking skull of Orthaunt back to Ironthorn to tell of Lorontar's victory and Orthaunt's doom. The skull was, in time, stolen. So of course the Lyroses and Tesmers now say it was but a hoax, enacted by some hidden wizard hired by the Hammerhands to advance their claim to rule.'

'Lorontar,' Rod could not help but whispering, a moment of chill rising inside him amidst all the warmth. The first Lord Archwizard-the real Lord Archwizard-had been a busy man, to be sure.

'Across the Thorn River,' Thalden went on, 'is our most bitter foe, whom we go up against this night. Lord Magrandar Lyrose sneers at us from Lyraunt Castle, that stands just south of the Thorn River. His badge is the Three Thorns-a pinwheel of three steel-gray thorns, joined at their bases, on a yellow field. Looks like a caltrop. His wife, Maerelle, still lives, but he has now-thanks to our blades, Syregorn's here among them-'

Grim murmurs and mirthless chuckles of approval arose around the hollow.

'— but one son, Pelmard the dashing coward. A daughter, too, Mrythra by name, who is as cold a schemer as any wizard I've ever met. Uh, begging your indulgence, Lord Archwizard.'

Rod nodded and managed a weak smile. These knights might call him 'wizard,' but he was hardly striking fear-or respect, for that matter-into any of them.

'Real daggers 'neath her garters, that one,' Thalden growled, shaking his head in disgust. 'Not that her mother's far behind her. So these Lyrose serpents reign over southwestern Ironthorn. Which is three vales that flank monster-roamed Harstorm Ridge, where none but Lyrose's bravest foresters dare go. And none of them set boot near haunted Stormcrag Castle, atop Harstorm.'

'Tell me,' Rod said quietly, as the old knight sat back to reach down a cupped hand to the spring by his feet, and drink. 'The Lyrose sons who were slain; what did you do with their bodies?'

'Burned, and the ashes scattered,' Syregorn snapped. 'No wizard or priest will be bringing them back.'

'And that's the real power behind Lyrose,' Thalden said urgently, swallowing hastily so as to lean forward again, to be sure Rod heeded him. 'The Doom Malraun is Lord Lyrose's spine and fire. When our lord slew Melvarl Lyrose and came after Magrandar, seeking to slaughter the whole family and take Lyraunt Castle, the wizard offered Lyrose his aid. Now, Magrandar is a snake and a wallower in cruel pleasures, but he is not a fool. He accepted. It made him a slave to come, aye, but kept him alive then. The wizard's spells hurled back our lord's forces, felling many brave knights. Yet, mark you, Malraun did not hound us, or seek to scour out Hammerhold; he is no great friend of House Lyrose or their aims. He gave them magic, though, to keep them alive. Little things, shields that heal and banish poison and the like. Then he vanished again, and has seldom been seen in Ironthorn since.'

The old knight drank again, cleared his throat, and added, 'Yet Ironthorn has a third lord. Lord Irrance Tesmer, who dwells in his castle of Imtowers, holding sway over the valley of Imrush. The largest, most lush farms in Ironthorn; the River Imrush winds through them, down to join the Thorn at Irontarl.'

'Uh, ah, does he matter?' Rod asked, more to try to make Syregorn think he was still babbling helplessly than to goad Thalden into telling all.

'He is the reason Hammerhand and Lyrose didn't hurl themselves at each other and into death long ago. The reason we skirmish and glare instead, and Ironthorn staggers along wealthy and crowded, with three lords, rather than being a graveyard ruled by one.'

Well, that was emphatic enough.

Thalden wasn't done, though.

'Tesmer's arms are a purple diamond on a light gray field. That diamond shape represents gems, for every rock crevice in the Imrush was once full of gems, and they are still to be had to this day, albeit scarcer, and only in deep crawl-mines.'

Rod frowned. 'So why isn't Tesmer the strongest Ironthar lord? Why didn't Malraun aid him?'

'Well,' the old knight said slowly, 'there you have hit on a mystery. There's some as say another Doom was lurking in the minds of the Tesmers already-a trap for Malraun, belike-and others hold that Tesmer's wife Telclara-who rules him as harshly as he lords it over the Imrush farmers-is set against Malraun, and has some power or thing of magic he fears, to keep him at bay. I know not, and I doubt any jack or knight of Ironthorn does, whatever truths they may claim to know.'

'And Tesmer's heirs? How well does she rule them?'