Page 12 of Witchcraft and Fury (Chronicles of the Divided Isle #1)

POTION brEWING

Nothing demonstrates the limits of the throne’s power more clearly than the warring of its nobles.

House Goldmont and House Humby have been fighting incessantly since the world emerged from smoke at the end of the Fourth Age.

The Humbys claim that hostilities stem from Raedwald Goldmont’s rape of Elvina, a daughter of House Humby.

But this legend likely arose as representation of another rape: the Goldmonts’ burning of vast swathes of forest on Humby land.

Forest is held sacred in Ashwood, and its devastation is not lightly suffered.

That evening, round the campfire, Pingot served up another feast. Leek and potato soup was followed by cheese and onion pie, fat sausages, carrots and peas.

Solar felt a stab of guilt combined with a longing for home; her mother and brother would have been amazed at the sight of all the food they managed to consume each mealtime.

But, she resolved, nobody stood to gain if she didn’t eat her fill.

As she tucked into a hunk of cherry tart, she listened to Bear tell Pingot breathlessly all about the knights of his father’s vast lands:

‘Nowhere else in Ashwood will you find knights as chivalrous as those of my father. The tourneys he holds each spring are incredible. Each knight in the joust rides a fearsome charger, and their armour dazzles those watching in the stands. And their sense of honour and fair play is inspiring. No knight has been disqualified from a Kingsley tourney in over a hundred years for cheating or unchivalrous conduct. And on the battlefield … I tell you, Pingot, you have not lived until you have seen the knights of Redstone ride into battle. Their courage is legendary. When I was a child I saw Sir Anson charge two trolls by himself to save a lady and her daughter.’

Pingot was listening to every word raptly, and would have done so with bated breath had he not been taking alternate mouthfuls of venison sausage and apple pie.

‘Let me guess,’ chimed in Oswald. ‘The brave knight did not live to tell the tale? The knights of my father, Duke Goldmont, have far more sense, and enjoy much greater longevity.’

‘Oh yes, they have as much sense as the duke himself, I’m sure,’ said Pingot through a mouthful of pastry. ‘I hear he rides into battle in a golden jerkin. I suppose he thinks he’d look good as a human pincushion?’

Oswald’s cheeks coloured, and he turned away to talk to Wyman, for once unable to think of a smart rebuttal.

Cal had long since finished eating and was carving small figures out of boxwood.

They were pieces for the board game Sorcery!

, and he had a board before him with some completed models already carefully placed on it: goblins, mounted knights, ogres, wizards, fire-breathing dragons and more.

Solar knew the layout of the board well.

She had never been able to afford a set, nor had she the skill to make one, but she had seen it played many times in the Inn of the Fickle Friend.

The board was a map of the Divided Isle.

She used to steal glances at the games underway whilst serving customers food and ale, and she would imagine herself travelling to all four of its corners on secret adventures.

In the southern half of the Divided Isle was Ashwood, the realm of King Algar Firebraid.

The city and county of Falcontop occupied the southern tip, and Queen’s Port gave it access to the riches of lands abroad.

Forests sprawled from there nearly all the way up to the mountainous terrain of the capital Riverhawk, punctuated occasionally by other great cities and their hinterlands.

Ashwood was not the only kingdom in the south. On the east coast there were goblin coves and the grand valleys of the centaurs, whilst in the west the troll and minotaur kings were constantly looking to expand their territories.

In the northern half of the Divided Isle, across the natural boundary of the River Vulnus, the mighty kingdom of Arkundu stood alone.

Solar studied Cal’s expression. He looked so calm as he fashioned his figures, absorbed in the detail of his work.

She could hardly believe he was the same sullen boy who had spent the past two days insulting her.

His haughty countenance had remained fixed in place during that time, as if chiselled there.

But now it was replaced with serene tranquillity.

Solar took in the high cheekbones, the strong jaw. The long, dark eyelashes.

A closed and very battered-looking book was at his feet, a vellum slip marking his place. Ody Goldmont’s Encyclopaedia of Spirits, Ghouls and Ghosts was inscribed in gold lettering on the front cover. Solar wondered if Ody Goldmont was a relation of Oswald’s.

Suddenly she became aware of Bear looking at her curiously across the campfire. ‘Who are you carving the pieces for?’ she asked Cal hurriedly, trying to sound as if she hadn’t just been caught staring at him.

‘My sister. She will have turned sixteen by the time we reach the capital, and she will be there with my parents for King Algar’s coronation.

’ He seemed to answer without thinking, so lost was he in concentration.

Then, with a start, he snapped out of his reverie. ‘What’s it to you, anyway?’ he snarled.

‘Nothing. I was just … interested, that’s all. They’re beautiful,’ she said.

Cal grunted in response and bent his head to continue his work.

Can he really hate me so much, just ’cos I’m not a boy or nobility?

Solar thought, dismayed. She knew that she should have expected such a response from Cal, that she had no reason to expect anything else after all he had subjected her to, but the fact was she felt a strange desire to have at least one conversation with him that didn’t consist purely of exchanging insults.

She was unsure where her interest in Cal came from.

She’d known attractive boys before, although none with the same wild, heady masculinity about them.

And whilst she’d pursued and been pursued by some of those same boys, they had for the most part treated her well, at least by the standards of the urban criminals she usually associated with.

Certainly none of them had ever singled her out in hatred, as Cal seemed to.

And yet, even amongst the wonders of Loveday’s camp, in her quiet moments it was to Cal her thoughts always returned .

She thought back to the odd way in which her stomach had flipped during their duelling. Just as confusingly as her own turbulent thoughts and emotions, she couldn’t shake the suspicion she’d had on the training ground that there had been at least a flicker of … well, something from him in return.

After a while the trainees each made their way to their tents for bed.

Cal wandered over to the horses and pack animals to offer them carrots and pat each of them gently on the head in turn.

Solar, standing at the entrance to her tent, saw how they nuzzled his hands.

They seemed completely at ease around him.

On a whim she walked past her tent towards the animals, picking out Mae with her sleek white hair.

She offered her an apple and, looking into the horse’s big, dark eyes, was reminded forcibly of her father.

He had brown eyes too, full of kindness and joy, and cascades of curly, brown hair.

She remembered the smile he had given her as he left for war, a smile full of love and the expectancy that he would see her again soon.

He had swept his curls from his eyes in his usual jerky manner, his carpenter’s hands seeming too large for his body.

‘I will find you, father,’ she promised now, ‘as soon as I’ve finished my training. Then I’ll have the power to search the whole world for you. I’ll find you, even if it takes me a lifetime.’

*

The next morning the party saddled up and made to move on. Loveday did not like to linger too long in any one place. The imps dismantled the tents and, once Loveday had performed spells on the fabric and poles to make them lighter, strapped them to the mules’ backs .

They followed a track through the forest that had once been a deer trail but was now used by various brigands who wished to avoid the main roads.

The imps whizzed off into the trees, playing rough games in the air of tumbling and chasing rather than moving at the same slow pace as the horses and mules.

‘If you learn just one thing from me, Solar,’ said Loveday as the winged creatures disappeared from view, ‘make sure it’s that you should never feed a hungry imp.’

‘Why’s that?’ asked Solar, curious.

‘I was involved in an undercover mission in the north of the Divided Isle, in the Kingdom of Arkundu, a few years back. I happened to cross paths with a wild imp and offered it some of my wine and cheese. It and its clan have never stopped following me since, expecting three square meals a day.’

Once or twice Solar spotted cloaked figures scrambling off the path when they caught sight of their party from a distance. Everything about Loveday indicated clearly that he was a wizard, from his magic staff to his retinue of students, and no thieves or petty criminals dared bother them.

Solar was glad that none of the others commented on how well she could sit a horse for a carpenter’s daughter.

She did not want to admit that she had once stolen one from Grubber’s stables and taken it all the way to the town of Springvalley to sell it at the local horse market.

She had learned to ride on her way there, but only after falling off at least a dozen times.

She didn’t imagine that Bear would approve of such an adventure, and she wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on chivalry and honour.