message, young Berrin.’
‘Yes, my Lord. Luke sent me personally, said you would want to know right away.’
‘Well don’t keep him guessing, young man,’ said Gresse, a half smile on his face. ‘Or me for that matter. At my age patience is in short supply.’
‘Sorry, my Lord,’ said Berrin, blushing bright red below his cropped brown hair. ‘It’s just that some of the mounted militia have intercepted a group of twenty riders heading for the town. They demand an audience with you, Baron Blackthorne.’
‘Demand, eh? Who are they and where are they?’ asked Blackthorne.
‘Black Wings, my Lord, two miles north on the main trail. Selik is with them.’
Blackthorne cursed under his breath and swung into his saddle, his mood darkening. ‘I will attend immediately. Tell Luke where I have gone.’
‘Yes, my Lord.’ Berrin ran off towards the castle.
‘Coming, Gresse?’ asked Blackthorne.
‘I think I need to hear what you have to say to Selik. I wonder why he’s chosen to come here. Surely he knows where you stand.’
‘The man’s arrogance knows no boundary,’ replied Blackthorne, feeling some anxiety. Gresse was right. Selik wouldn’t come unless he felt he had real weight on his side. Truth or lie, Blackthorne was worried what he might hear. He signalled to his guard of six to accompany them and put his heels to his horse’s flanks.
Blackthorne rode quickly, Gresse at his side, his well armoured guards in a loose circle around him as they passed along the north trail out of the town. To the east, the skyline was dominated by the Balan Mountains but in front of them the land was flat, covered in bracken and coarse grass. It was a cool if dry day but there were clouds massing on the mountain peaks. Rain was not far away.
They could see both militia and Black Wings from over a mile away as they rounded a bend in the trail through a small area of devastated woodland. Blackthorne could see eight of his own men, who would have a mage with them, mounted and watching over the Black Wing riders who had all dismounted, leaving their horses to graze at will.
The Baron, feeling irritation at the waste of his valuable time but happy that his increased security had intercepted the Black Wings, reined in by the militia sergeant and dismounted.
‘Stand off but be ready,’ he said.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
Blackthorne and Gresse walked the short distance to the Black Wing captain, obvious by his wrecked face, and his men. Selik did not smile as he saw them.
‘Baron Blackthorne, a pleasure I’m sure. And made all the better by the presence of the famous Baron Gresse. You have saved me a further journey.’ He extended a gauntleted hand which both barons ignored.
‘You have nothing to say that I want to hear, so make it quick and be on your way,’ said Blackthorne. ‘I am a busy man.’
‘I thought it only fair to visit you, Blackthorne, and offer you the hand of alliance.’
Blackthorne folded his arms and frowned. ‘Against what?’
‘Well, magic of course. The scourge that has brought this great country to its knees, that threatens to destroy our land and that must be stopped from regaining its dominance over the people.’
‘A country that you would clearly like to see flat on its back with its eyes staring sightless at the sky,’ said Blackthorne.
‘No, one that I would see return to rude health without the ever-present fear of magical devastation.’
Blackthorne exchanged a quick glance with Gresse, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
‘You want me, us, to ally with you to throw down the colleges, is that it?’
‘It is a crusade of the righteous,’ said Selik. ‘You are respected men. Your presence could stop unnecessary bloodshed.’
‘Respect that alliance with you would destroy in a moment,’ said Gresse. ‘The Gods only know what bullshit your supporters swallow, but don’t treat us as fools. Your ultimate goal is the murder of every mage in Balaia. There is no unnecessary bloodshed for you, and while I have breath I will oppose you.’
Selik’s eye narrowed and his expression clouded. ‘The people are sick of magic. They want rid of it, they want it exterminated or controlled. And those who support it are the enemies of Balaia.’
‘And these people are the same ones who wallow in filth right now while their families die of hunger and disease and the only thriving creatures are rats,’ said Blackthorne.
‘And all brought upon them by magic.’
‘And magic will save them,’ snapped Blackthorne. ‘My town is free of vermin.