David Niemitz
patreon
Guild Mage 234
🕑 Added 2025-08-12 12:44:18 +0000 UTCChapter 234: The Battle of the Pass III: What Might Have Been
The morning of Liv’s second day at the pass came clear and warm.
She rode out under a sky of endless blue, with only a few scattered wisps of cloud, in the golden sunlight. Steria, having had a night’s rest and a generous helping of oats, tossed her mane playfully, and Liv knew that if she gave the northern mare her head, she would have dashed off across the shockingly green spring grass.
Instead, she held the northern horse to a walk as they moved out from the gate built into the new wall. Liv was wearing her armor but no cloak, and she’d left her helm in Thora’s hands so that her face would be clearly visible - and for one other reason. Her enchanted boots had been cleaned and oiled, her wand rested in its sheath at her hip, and Thora had used a needle and thread to attach the eel-bone button she’d so carefully engraved during her time at Coral Bay. Overhead, a spotless white banner flapped in the breeze.
Julianne rode at the head of the party, of course; as the duchess who’d raised her banner in rebellion against the crown, they could hardly be led by anyone else. Martin Corbett, Sidonie’s father, accompanied them, that honor being the least respect he could be shown in return for bringing his house’s soldiers to their cause. Master Grenfell had come, not to represent the mage’s guild, but his own family. Liv’s great-uncle, Eilis, had been offered a place among the delegation as well, but he’d refused with a smile.
“You are the most senior representative of the Eld who is here,” Julianne had continued, while Eilis ka Väinis simply shook his head and held up a hand, as if to gently hold her arguments at bay.
“There is no need for me to ride forth,” he insisted. “Though I thank you for the consideration. No, send Inkeris. He and Livara should be seen together to represent our people from the very beginning. It will set the correct tone now. And you, my niece, should wear this.”
The older man reached into his robes and removed the silver circlet that Liv and her friends had recovered from the Tomb of Celris, and offered it to her.
Liv’s eyes widened, and then she realized what he’d done. “Grandmother’s spell,” she grumbled. “I left that behind for a reason, Great Uncle. I’m worried about the Setons’ word of power. It lets them control silver.”
“You can set it aside after the parley,” Eilis insisted. “And in any event I suspect these people would not find a Vædic key quite so simple to control as you fear. But you should wear it now. We want you to make the right impression.”
Since he’d already brought it to the pass, she couldn’t think of much reason to argue - and that was the second reason that Liv wasn’t wearing her helm.
It made for a negotiating party of five, every one of which could wield at least one word of power. To that was added an equal escort of five soldiers, each carrying a banner, and Ghveris, whom Liv had asked to accompany them. She’d thought about bringing Rose, but there wasn’t really a political reason to, and the Antrian was clearly the better bodyguard. In addition to the white signalling a parley, there was the white mountain on a green field for the Summersets; but also the red and black of the Crosbies, the red and yellow flame of the Grenfells, and the brown book and white field of the Corbetts.
“Take my reins,” Liv murmured to Keri, and he brought his own horse, Kersis, right up alongside hers. She closed her eyes, trusting her friend to manage Steria, and concentrated on her breathing. At her urging, Aluth awoke in the back of Liv’s mind, and as she spread her Authority out around them, she could feel the desiccation wards ahead.
Baron Henry had done an exacting and thorough job of his enchanting. The mana-stone dust had actually been laid under the soil - she guessed by means of having his soldiers dig trenches, pouring in the white powder, and then shovelling the loose soil back in. There were three wards, each a line crossing the entirety of the pass, separated by perhaps fifty feet between them.
Liv reached out and took each ward, cradling it in her mind. She didn’t want to destroy them, as she had Costia’s lingering curse on her bones, but she also didn’t want them to activate. To her surprise, she felt a stirring from Dā, as if the contingent magic had caught the word of time’s attention like a hound scenting roasting meat.
Rather than fight the magic, Liv let her grandmother’s word of power help her. “Not yet,” she murmured to herself. “It isn’t your time quite yet.”
“Liv?” Julianne asked, from the head of the group. “Is it safe for us to pass?”
She nodded, and then realized it might make them all more confident if she said it out loud. “I have control of all three wards. They won’t activate unless I allow them to.” Liv let her eyes open, and accepted her reins back from Keri. The nine people who rode with her, however, only visibly relaxed after they’d passed the first ward, marked by the telltale signs of recently replaced soil.
The opposite party, which rode out from the enemy encampment with their own banners, consisted of an equal number. Martin Corbett, to absolutely no surprise on Liv’s part, began calling out the banners as soon as they came in sight.
“The royal banner of House Loredan, of course,” her friend’s father began. “I see the Duchy of Carinthia. House Howe, House Fane, and House Talbot.”
Liv felt just a bit sick to her stomach, as if her morning meal had only now decided that it was not agreeing with her, but she forced it aside in the same way she was ignoring the lingering headache she’d woken with. It turned out that living with the chronic pain of regularly fractured bones during much of her childhood had some use, after all. When the body’s complaints could not be eased, they must simply be lived with.
She eased them past the wards, and was grateful that Steria, intelligent and well trained, came to a halt on her own once the other horses did. The two groups remained mounted, with perhaps twenty feet of open space between them. Liv was surprised to only recognize two of the men who’d come to speak with them, though perhaps she shouldn’t have been.
There was Bennet Howe himself, who was not only commander of the enemy forces, but apparently now wed to Princess Milisant, as well. Now that Liv knew who his mother was, she could see something of Mirabel Cooper in his eyes. The man with an angry set to his jaw, and orange hair streaked with white, she guessed must be Baron Fane. That would make the square-jawed, handsome man she didn’t recognize the Duke of Carinthia; Liv wondered whether Jurian had ever met him. Her teacher had often said that he’d grown up on the streets of that city, so she doubted it.
Liv’s eyes avoided Cade Talbot until the very last. She’d never seen him in armor, before, and she had to admit that it looked good on him. Liv searched for his eyes, but he seemed entirely focused on Julianne, rather than her.
“I am authorized by King Benedict of Lucania to accept your surrender under the following terms,” Bennet began, his eyes skittering off the armored bulk of Ghveris, who had positioned himself just to Liv’s right. His voice was raised to be heard above the morning breeze, and the snapping of the banners. “The rebel and traitor Julianne, along with her husband, and the heads of every house that has risen against the crown, will surrender themselves. You will be taken to Freeport, tried before your peers for treason, and then, as your guilt is manifestly evident, executed by having your heads struck off. This is the first part of the king’s mercy, for by the letter of the law the men should be drawn and quartered, and the women burnt alive.”
“The king’s wisdom, however, is not limited to this single gift; he is also willing to confirm all present heirs of the rebelling houses in their titles and lands, so long as they swear fealty to the crown once again, and send their eldest child to court as a hostage for their good behavior. The once duchy of Whitehill, however, shall be reduced back to the barony from which it began.” Howe shrugged, and turned to address Keri.
“So long as the Eldish warriors return north with no further interference in the sovereign affairs of the kingdom of Lucania, they shall be permitted free passage, and no further dispute shall be pursued between our two peoples.”
“And my adopted daughter?” Julianne asked, her voice remarkably calm and even. Liv herself couldn’t have managed it - she knew that the moment she opened her mouth, she’d be raging against the injustice of it all.
“Liv Brodbeck shall be surrendered to us, to be tried for the murders she has committed,” Bennet Howe said, with a shrug. “Combined with a charge of treason for her actions at Ashford. You have my word that I shall argue for the same commutation of sentence as we offer to the rest of the ring-leaders of this foolishness - a quick death by the sword, rather than a slow one by the flame.”
“Better than the knife-eared whore deserves,” Baron Fane muttered, and spit off to one side.
“Your son attacked me,” Liv broke in. “He tried to kill me, and I defended myself. That’s no murder. And if you all believe I killed my own teacher, you’re rusting fools.”
Julianne raised her hand, her first two fingers extended up, and Liv bit her tongue with a grimace.
“You’ve stated your terms; now here are mine, in return,” Julianne began. “First, that my adopted daughter is cleared of the false charges she’s been slandered with. Second, that the Grenfell family is restored to their rightful lands and titles at Ashford. Both the Grenfell and Corbett families will be granted complete amnesty for their parts in this conflict. The Duchy of Whitehill will be recognized as independent from Lucania, and afforded all the same respect as the Eld of the North or the people of Lendh ka Dakruim - that is, able to set our own taxes and port fees, to negotiate treaties, strike our own coins, and to enforce our borders. Finally, the crown of Lucania, as the aggressors in this conflict, shall pay reparations fit to compensate Whitehill and our allies for all damages sustained thus far - including during the attack on Ashford. We are also willing to ransom Rowan Erskine back to his family, for the price of forty gold crowns.”
“You want me to give away the entire north of the kingdom?” Bennet scoffed. “You’re a madwoman. Refuse these terms now, and the king shall not be merciful. You’ll burn, but only after you’ve watched your husband and son be drawn and quartered.”
“And you, Corbett,” the Duke of Carinthia broke in. “This is your one chance, man. You’ve not yet actually raised a sword against your lawful liege. Merely standing at her side can be forgiven, if you take my hand right this very moment. Swear your fealty once again, and be done with this nonsense.”
Sidonie’s father furrowed his brow, and in that moment Martin Corbett looked so like his daughter Liv felt she’d known him for years. “Isaac Grenfell was summarily executed in front of the entire court, with no judgement from his peers,” the baron said. “And then his lands were attacked, and his family stripped of their title. If Benedict is permitted to do this to one baron, he can do it to any of us. It must be stopped now, at the beginning. Our kings have never had absolute power before. They’ve relied on the barons to raise an army and collect taxes; on the great council to set new taxes; and on the guilds to govern themselves. Benedict would make himself more than simply our king; he would become something more. An absolute master, ruling over a land of slaves. If any of you have the slightest courage or respect for yourselves, you will join us.”
“Allow me to be entirely clear,” Master Grenfell said, into the silence that followed. “You people killed my nephew and drove my family from their lands. I’ve had to hold Isaac’s children in my arms while they wept for their father. They are my family. And I hold every one of you responsible,” the old man said, his voice rising as he stabbed his finger forward to point at each of the opposing nobles in turn. “Every one of you, and I do not stop there. This is no longer about who is right and who is wrong. You murdered my brother’s boy, and I will have vengeance. I will burn every one of you for this.”
Liv winced at her teacher’s words. Every memory she had of Kazimir Grenfell was of a scholar - a man who’d preferred to while away his days translating texts in the Old Baron’s Room of Curiosities, to spend his nights with one eye pressed to the telescope in the observatory tower. This was the man who’d scolded Jurian for teaching Liv a combat spell first.
“We have the answer of the traitors, then,” Bennet said, and turned to address Keri. “And what of the Eld? Your people have no stake in this conflict - nothing to gain, only to lose. Go home. Take your warriors back north, in peace.”
Keri laughed out loud. “When I came to you seven years ago, with word of the Cult of Ractia, you people couldn’t have cared less,” he said. “You’ve left us to fight alone - at Soltheris, at the Hall of Ancestors, and in Varuna. You would rather rip each other to pieces for the pleasure of your fool of a king and his brat daughter. Do you know who has fought for us? Her!” He extended a hand to Liv.
“You say we have no stake in this, while you propose to strike the head off the scion of House Syvä? The woman who walked into the Garden of Thorns and ended its eruption? Who braved the Tomb of Celris and came back with that crown on her brow?” Keri shook his head. “I’ve seen this woman stand face to face with a wyrm older than your little kingdom. And what will you do when the Lady of Blood comes, you small men, with your petty wars?”
“Not more of this foolishness,” the Duke of Carinthia grumbled. “The old gods are dead.”
“Not all of them,” Liv said. “Only you’re all determined to be blind to it.”
“Not just blind,” Keri continued. “Active servants, some of you. We found an idol of Ractia among those raiders we killed - in the possession of a man of House Sherard. I wonder how deep the rot goes in Lucania. I suppose by the end we’ll find out - even if it means we have to wade through a mountain of corpses, first.”
“I see there is no further point in continuing negotiations here,” Bennet declared.
“Wait.” Liv swallowed, and found her voice. “You’re going to get hundreds - thousands - of people killed, people on both sides. People who, a lot of them, don’t have the slightest idea what they’re fighting for. You’ve trumped up a pack of lies with just enough truth to it to justify what you always wanted to do anyway. You’re going to make me - make all of us - do horrible things to them. Once you start this, you can’t know where it will end. Isn’t it worth stopping to think, for just a moment, that it might not be worth the cost?”
“Worth keeping this kingdom intact for my children? Of course it is,” Bennet declared. “It would be worth slaughtering every person beyond that pass, burning the entire valley, and salting the earth.” He reined his horse around, and began to ride back to the crown lines. Baron Fane, the Duke of Carinthia, and the soldiers holding the banners followed, but Cade Talbot made no move to follow.
“I would speak with the woman I was once betrothed to,” he said, and it was the first time Liv had heard his voice since she’d turned him away at Coral Bay.
“It’s alright,” Liv said, meeting first Julianne’s eyes, then Keri’s, and finally Ghveris’s. Her adopted mother nodded, and they rode back toward the wall and the gate. The war-machine withdrew some dozen paces, and then waited.
For a long moment, the two former lovers sat their horses alone, while the wind whistled around them. It caught a strand of Liv’s white hair, pulled loose from her braids, and whipped it out like a streamer.
“I always loved watching your hair do that,” Cade said.
“You look well,” Liv said. “I’m glad of that, though I wish you weren’t here.”
Cade laughed. “You and I both,” he said. “It was this or suffer the same fate as Isaac Grenfell. Our prior relationship, you see, put me under suspicion. I have to prove that I’m loyal to the crown, if I want to protect my family and our lands.”
“Are you?” Liv asked. “Loyal to Benedict?”
“Benedict can rot for all I care,” Cade said. “I’ll kill whoever I need to kill to survive this war, and go back home to Bradon Bridge. I’ve got a good woman waiting for me to come home and wed her. She isn’t you, but she’s kind. She probably deserves better than I can give her, but I owe her at least this much.”
“I suppose if you tried to just surrender to me now, or turn around and ride home, they’d move against your father,” Liv said, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Cade. I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this. I never wanted to hurt you, I just -”
“You don’t have to explain,” Cade said. “I didn’t understand, at the time, but I think I do now, seeing you here. You look like an Elden princess, or some sort of warrior-queen. If there was ever a time you would have been happy to be a simple baron’s wife, it’s long passed us by.”
“I did think about it,” Liv admitted. “All those years between Freeport and Coral Bay.”
“I’d tell you to keep yourself safe, but somehow I don’t think I need to,” Cade said, and wheeled his horse around. “Farewell, Liv. When everything is over, perhaps we can share a bottle of wine together.”
“Goodbye, Cade,” she called after him. “You’d better survive this!” Liv watched him ride away, for a moment, to be certain he caught up to the rest of the enemy riders without incident. Then, she turned Steria back toward the wall, allowing the wards to wake behind her as she passed them, and pulling her Authority back, withdrawing it into herself.
Comments
Dave N
thank you!
Dave N
thank you!
Kresimir
for by the letter of the lawn the men should be drawn and quartered, and the women burnt alive.” Lawn -> law
Alexander Johnson
Nice, that went better than I expected - I was sure something was going to happen with our friendly Antrian or the Wards set by the Baron Henry - whew😅
Chris F
nice I like the little loose ends getting tied up before the action the crown resolution with Eilis providing the reasoning is pretty much the best I could have asked for narratively
Josh Turple
having had a night’s rest and a generous helping of oats, tossed her main playfully, Mane
