‘You’ve been with me long enough to know there are few sensitive matters in my company. What is it?’
‘These dreams you’ve been having, sir…’
‘Ah. Sensitive in a way, because they’ve challenged my view of the world. Though I still think they’re a part of nature rather than outside it, for all their incredible vivacity. Not like dreams at all.’
‘Do you have any understanding of them?’
‘Understanding, no. But there’s a…compulsion in them. I’ve no doubt there’s a reason why I’m having them. And I’m quite aware of the irony that I, of all people, should pay attention to something like ethereal dreams. But the man I saw in them, though it was more like an encounter than seeing, that man felt like part of what’s supposed to happen. I can’t put it plainer than that.’
‘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
