Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) by Christopher Mitchell (ebook reader for surface pro txt) 📕

Belinda nodded. She had been keeping all thoughts of Bastion, Edmond, and her vow out of her mind. Corthie was on his way, and she had to hold out until he had time to arrive in Alea Tanton. Silva had told her of Corthie’s doubts and hesitation, but Belinda had faith in him, faith that he would not abandon her. She wondered if Leksandr would lend her the Quadrant again; that way she could bring Corthie and the others directly to Alea Tanton, and they could strike while the Sixth Ascendant was alone.

‘What happened to Theodora, the First Ascendant?’ she said.

Leksandr stared at her in silence for a long moment. ‘Perhaps you should ask Lord Bastion that when he gets here.’

‘Why don’t you just tell me?’

‘It is not my… place to divulge such information.’

‘She’s dead though, isn’t she? The First Ascendant is dead?’

‘Oh yes. Indubitably. Very dead.’

‘How did she die?’

Leksandr sipped his wine. ‘The most blessed, holy, divine, sacred Second Ascendant killed her.’

Belinda frowned. ‘Edmond? But why?’

Leksandr raised his hands. ‘That’s all I’m going to say about that. Arete may wish to tell you more; that is up to her, but I shall refrain.’

‘Is it a secret?’

‘The outcome – no; everyone knows that the First Ascendant is dead. The cause? Perhaps. I would be lying if I said I knew the whole story; there are secrets that Lord Edmond has never revealed to me, and I do not wish to add to the speculation and ill-informed gossip that surround the events. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I wish to begin my meditations on the missing part of the Sextant.’

Belinda stood. ‘I shall leave you to your work. May I borrow your Quadrant?’

‘Unfortunately,’ he said, ‘I will not be able to lend you my Quadrant again. The risk of Arete discovering our secret is simply too high. I’m sure you understand.’

Belinda hid her disappointment. ‘I do.’

Leksandr bowed his head. ‘You have my gratitude, Third Ascendant.’

She walked to the door, and the guard opened it for her. She went through to the stairs that descended through the western tower of the residence and paused. She was at a loose end. Corthie was still a few days away, and without access to a Quadrant, she would have to await his arrival. He’ll come, she told herself; he wouldn’t betray her; he was like a brother, and he wouldn’t let her down. An idea came to her and she set off. She went down the stairs and kept going, passing the floor where she and Arete had their quarters. She rarely ventured from the western tower, and there were still parts of the Governor’s residence that she had never seen.

Soldiers, courtiers and servants halted and bowed low to her as she passed. Wearing her long flowing robes, she looked the part of an Ascendant – regal and unapproachable. The Banner armourers were based on the ground floor of the main wing of the residence, and she strode along the marble-lined hallways until she could hear the noise coming from their workshop. She entered a large chamber, and a dozen Banner artificers paused from their work to bow.

‘Your Majesty,’ said the chief artificer; ‘you honour us with your presence.’

The chamber was filled with workbenches, and shelves were loaded with ballistae parts and piles of armour and weapons. A forge sat at the rear of the chamber beneath a wide chimney, and its coals were glowing red.

‘I am here about the weapon I sent downstairs for you.’

‘Of course, your Majesty,’ said the chief artificer. ‘I have had my best men working on it.’

‘Is it ready?’

‘Unfortunately not, your Majesty. Let me show you.’

He led her to a crowded workbench, and removed a sheet that had been covering something.

‘We’re having to completely rebuild it, your Majesty. The greenhide talons themselves are still sound, but the wooden and leather parts were worn out. We’re replacing all of those parts with freshly forged steel where possible, and will be welding the talons to a new head-piece. Altogether, it will be a far more formidable weapon when we have finished with it; it should last a century, or longer. Its weight will also be increased, but I trust that this will not be a problem?’

Belinda glanced at the pieces laid out on the workbench. A new metal handle was lying on the surface – a long rod of steel, with an engraved pattern of leaves and vines running down it. Next to it lay the three greenhide talons, along with a new curved steel spike that would be attached to the back of the head-piece.

‘The weight will be fine,’ she said.

‘As you can see, your Majesty, most of the parts are here; the weapon merely needs to be assembled, and then some further decoration can be added, along with a new leather grip and strap. It will be fit for an Ascendant by the time we’re through with it. I estimate it will be finished in a few days. Does it have a name, your Majesty? If so, we can engrave that upon it.’

‘It is called the Clawhammer.’

The chief artificer nodded. ‘There is, ah, a rumour, your Majesty, concerning this weapon. Some say that it was used to destroy the Banner of the Golden Fist at the Falls of Iron, and then it was seen in action against the Banner of the Black Crown in Yoneath. Is the rumour true, your Majesty?’

‘Yes. I salvaged it from the cavern of Fordamere after its previous owner was slain. It used to belong to Corthie Holdfast.’

The chamber fell into utter silence as the artificers listened.

‘Is that a problem?’ she said.

‘No, your Majesty,’ said the chief artificer. ‘The Holdfast champion was an enemy, but he had earned the respect of the Banners before he died. He was a worthy foe. We shall ensure that the work is carried out to our highest standards.’

‘Thank you. Send a message when it is ready.’

The artificers bowed low.

Belinda left the workshop