James Barclay - Beyond the Mists of Katura

Entering the Hexerion, Ystormun was struck by the heat. All the fires were lit including his, despite his not having ordered it, and the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. It was a petty act. They knew of his preference for cold; it had been that way since his return from the stultifying humidity of Calaius. He stared at them all in turn, caught their contempt and shrugged it off before pulling out his chair and sitting, his fingers knitted together and resting lightly on the table.

They had expected him to leap to his own defence and so he waited for one of them to speak and reveal his own ignorance. Perhaps it would be Weyamun or Pamun; both had trouble holding their tongues. He was a little disappointed when Belphamun spoke first. His voice was measured and calm.

‘We do not appreciate being kept waiting,’ said Belphamun. ‘Your presence, when demanded by the cadre, must be immediate, as it would be for any of us.’

‘I am not in the habit of abandoning a task half complete,’ said Ystormun.

‘Of course we understand that choosing travelling clothes is a task requiring the utmost in peace and concentration,’ said Giriamun.

Belphamun hissed him to silence without taking his eyes from Ystormun.

‘Are we not worthy of your immediate presence?’ he asked.

‘When we are to discuss matters that are open for debate, yes, of course,’ said Ystormun.

He felt the atmosphere tighten. Eyes that had been staring dismissively past his shoulders locked on his face and he felt the pressure of their combined contempt.

‘Your desire to weaken the cadre will always be a matter open to debate,’ said Pamun.

‘Your personal feelings are leading your mind in the weakest of fashions,’ said Weyamun.

‘Your decision may not be taken by you alone,’ said Giriamun.

‘You may not leave this temple without our express consent,’ said Arumun.

‘Your obsession with expunging your shame is truly pathetic,’ said Belphamun.

Ystormun had known it would be this way. He let their anger roll over him and made a show of acknowledging all their criticism. They said much more but the subject matter differed little. He waited until they subsided, satisfied that they were in accord and he was the pariah outside the cadre determined to see it break. Then he spoke.

‘What is most disappointing is that you fail to see that my actions will bring us closer than ever to ultimate victory. Now forgive me, but can we agree that victory, in this instance, is the clearing of the way to Dawnthief, capturing it unhindered and ensuring our dominion over the eons?’

The five gazed at him, baleful and contemptuous. One by one, and almost imperceptibly, they inclined their heads.

‘Yet you, Belphamun, have chosen to make an alliance of questionable gain with our greatest rival and our keenest enemy. Xetesk is simply using us to destroy its own rivals, thereby making it stronger when it eventually turns on us.’

‘Your understanding is typically myopic and flawed,’ said Belphamun. ‘The destruction of the colleges is key to our ambitions, and our alliance with Xetesk until we choose to break it allows us to retain great strength of arms.’

‘And you, Pamun, have utterly failed in your task to bring the Paleon tribes into line. Any reserve strength surely rests in Sentaya’s and Lantruq’s hands, and unless I am misled it is Sentaya who has just challenged us.’

Pamun could say nothing. Ystormun smiled.

‘And do I need to ask how the search for Dawnthief is progressing?’

More silence. Ystormun stood and spread his hands.

‘Auum has brought the remainder of his force into our lands and positioned them somewhere we can destroy them. This is my task, and I will see it done. Their destruction removes their magic and their most capable warriors. It will remove the elves from this conflict, and it is an opportunity that must not be missed. That is why I will travel and you will not stop me.’

Belphamun’s fists rattled the ancient tabletop, and lines of power spat along the cracks. The remainder of the cadre jerked their elbows or hands from the surface. The smell of burning snapped briefly in the air, dissipating almost immediately.

‘You will not leave this temple,’ he spat, all pretence at calm gone. Ystormun had won the argument but not the prize. ‘We will gather our powers together as we have always done and strike from a position of greater strength through the shamen. That is why we have them.’

‘You will not deny me this victory!’ shouted Ystormun. ‘It is mine and I have earned it.’

‘And should you fall, what then?’ asked Pamun.

Ystormun laughed straight into Pamun’s face. ‘ Fall? The strength of my force could defeat an army ten times the size of the one I will face. And when I appear on the battlefield, invulnerable and all-powerful in the eyes of the savages, they will run screeching to their shamen to swear loyalty and I will face a handful of elves.’

Pamun’s glare was tight with malice.

‘Oh yes, Pamun, I will deliver Sentaya at the same time — that’s what this is about, isn’t it? My victory bringing about your shame.’

Pamun stood across the table. ‘No, Ystormun, this is about your petty revenge on some southern barbarians. There is nothing else in your mind. Do not dare to claim otherwise.’

Ystormun crossed his arms over his chest before sweeping them wide open. The six fires blew out, diminishing the light.

‘And I will have no more of this heat. Your protestations are based on the worst of all weaknesses, fear. You fear I will be defeated and our cadre will be left vulnerable to the Xeteskians’ new casting. Your lack of belief will undo you. Xetesk is locked on the other side of the mountains. I will not fall. I will not even be scratched. You would deny me glory because you fear my influence will grow. Fear. I had not thought to see it in you, my brothers.’

Ystormun smiled at the blow he had struck. Arumun managed to hold his gaze.

‘Deny that you seek revenge.’

‘I do not deny it,’ said Ystormun. ‘Why should I deny myself the satisfaction even as I bring this conflict to a close? I will see the terror in Auum and Takaar’s eyes as I kill them. I want to see the knowledge of their failure as their last breaths leave their broken tortured bodies. I want them to know that I will be visiting the same pain on their homeland. I want to tell them so myself as the skin is flayed from their bodies.

‘Your proclivities bring nothing but fleeting arousal, Arumun. Mine bring joy. Indulge in hate, it is beautiful when it is released.’

‘It blinds you and will destroy us all,’ said Belphamun.

‘I am happy to be so pivotal to your survival.’

‘We are six or we are none,’ said Belphamun.

‘Then do not seek to stop me, or whether I live or die, we will be none.’

By any measure Bynaar was well protected. He was a Circle Seven mage, not a position achieved by a lack of attention to detail. Even in his temporary accommodation in Understone, with Xeteskian forces dominating every approach and comprising the garrison, he had not neglected his personal security.

His bodyguard of Protectors ringed the house he occupied. Others patrolled the ground floor, and he had guards positioned outside his rooms on the first floor. His most trusted mages watched the garrison and the lands beyond, and he was perpetually covered by a magical shield should any rival decide to disturb his sleep by attempting to murder him.

Whenever he ate he had his own cooks prepare the food, and the castings he played over it would detect any poison. And when he slept or took to the quiet of his drawing room to rest and read, his familiar was the eyes in the back of his head.