Disclaimer – I do not own BMT world, it belongs to Trudi Canavan
Corres Fort
Her first glimpse of Corres Fort almost took Sonea's breath away. She had been expecting something along the grim lines of the Northern or Southern Forts; instead she was faced with a jewel of a building, surrounded by high walls, topped with crenellations. Corres Fort was built from the pale grey granite found in outcrops all along the Steelbelt Ranges. Mixed in the stone were tiny crystals which sparkled like the brightest of diamonds, making the whole building shimmer in the sunlight. It was a large Fort, much bigger than the others, surrounded on all sides by its high walls. Constructed on a promontory which jutted out into the bay, three of the Fort's four walls were set against the sea. The fourth wall faced what had once been a large open flat area forming the neck of the promontory, before the land started to rise into the foothills of the Ranges. There was a water entrance in the Eastern wall, with a heavily guarded Landgate opening out on to the promontory.
Sprawled around the land-side of the Fort, was Corres Town, a misshapen settlement, where streets twisted and turned upon themselves creating a warren of narrow passages and lanes. Unlike the Fort, the buildings were not made of attractive granite, but a mixture of stone, bricks and wood, often reused from earlier structures, giving the appearance of buildings flung together using whatever materials were to hand. It seemed to Sonea that it had all just grown over time, with no sense of a plan or organisation in any form. The aim appeared to be to use every available inch of space on the flat land to build whatever was needed. As a consequence, the town gave visitors a sense of claustrophobia as buildings were often tall and thin, each storey jutting out beyond the previous storey, enclosing the streets and blotting out much of the light.
As the High Lord's procession clattered through the town and towards the Fort, people stopped what they were doing and stood to watch, open-mouthed as the magicians and Guild servants passed by. Sonea didn't feel as if the crowd were well-wishers, rather they were simply grateful for a chance to stop and stare, before going back to their hum-drum tasks. As far as she knew, this was the first time such a high ranking magician had favoured Corres Town with his presence, yet the population didn't seem to be particularly over-awed. Once the procession had passed, they went back to their work, not even wanting to talk about what had just happened.
As they got closer to the Fort, Sonea could feel the magic captured in its walls set her nerves jangling. This Fort had been constructed hundreds of years ago, using black magic during the time when higher magic, as it was then known, was welcomed by the Guild and used for many purposes. Although this made the Fort formidable and able to resist all but the strongest and most concentrated magic, it would act as a beacon to the Ichani, who possessed the secret of taking magic from buildings, in the same way she could take power from trees. Akkarin would have known the origins of the Fort and that would go some way to explaining his insistence on coming here and his fears that the Ichani might attack it. If they succeeded in capturing the Fort, they would have plenty of time to drain the building of its magic, making them even more powerful.
The procession wound its way through the maze of streets until it found itself in a relatively small open area before the Landgate. Sonea could see the walls were sparsely manned by members of the King's Guard, assisted by Warriors. The High Lord came to a halt in front of the gate and in a loud voice demanded entrance in the name of the Guild and the King. Not the most diplomatic order of importance, she thought with an inward grin. An officer responded, asking the identity of the questioner, before giving a signal, at which the huge gates began to slowly open. Given that the Fort was fully aware of the High Lord's visit, the whole thing had been more of a ritual which had to be performed, rather than a serious attempt to question a visitor and prevent entry if necessary.
As she passed under the twin towers which guarded the Landgate, Sonea was even more conscious of the magic which permeated all the buildings associated with the Fort. It was as if something very fragile and delicate was crawling all over her body leaving every nerve tingling in its wake. She looked around, but no one else seemed aware of it. Perhaps it is only black magicians who can sense it, she thought. The Fort was constructed so that any invading force which had captured the Landgate with the intention of attacking the interior of the Fort, had to make its way through narrow corridors where they would come under attack from guards and Warriors manning the walls. After several twists and turns, Sonea found herself out in the open courtyard before the towering main building. Balkan had already dismounted and was greeting the Fort Commander. Sonea watched them closely and gained the distinct impression that the Commander felt he had enough to do without having to entertain a company of magicians. She saw Akkarin hovering close by Balkan's shoulder so that the High Lord was forced to introduce him. She laughed to herself. How typical of Akkarin, to make the High Lord dance to his tune!
By this time, the Guild servants, who had travelled at the rear of the procession, arrived in the courtyard and began collecting the horses. Sonea slid gratefully down from Trouble. Although she had coped with him better, it was still a strain keeping him under control so she couldn't say she was sorry to see him taken off to the stables. Someone came with a list and she found herself one of a group of four female magicians being conducted to their accommodation. They made their way through the keep and up several spiral staircases until they emerged into a long corridor with many doors off it. The fort servant stopped before one of the doors and opened it, indicating they should enter. Sonea found herself in a large chamber with six beds arranged along one wall. Each bed had a small richly carved cupboard next to it, for personal belongings. She took the nearest and sat down gratefully. The bed was firm, but not too hard and she fingered the thick woollen blankets and the luxurious bed coverings. She would not be cold, that was certain.
They had not been told what was to happen and were uncertain whether they should wait in their room, or try to find their way downstairs. They began to argue amongst themselves about what to do. In the end, Sonea became annoyed by the circular discussion and opened the door to call a nearby servant. Confronted by four demanding magicians, he readily agreed to conduct them down to the large reception room where he thought the rest of their party would be. It was another long and confusing walk through the corridors and down flights of stairs, but they eventually arrived on the ground floor. The servant pointed to a set of very tall heavy wooden doors and suggested they enter.
Inside, they found themselves in an immense room built of the sparkling granite. Its walls were covered in colourful tapestries depicting battle scenes and there were many pieces of large heavily carved furniture dotted around, yet they failed to make the room feel furnished, it was so large. There were numerous thick rugs and, at the far end of the room, a huge fireplace, capable of burning tree trunks, rather than mere logs. The whole room reeked of richness, both in terms of decoration and of value. Some of their party were already there, availing themselves of the refreshments set out along one of the long tables. Looking round, Sonea could not see Akkarin nor any of his Warriors. Balkan was not there either, but Osen was. She took care not to get to close to him just in case he noticed she was not what she claimed to be.
Luckily she spotted Mostyn and quickly went over to where he was standing. He seemed pleased to see her and almost immediately launched into a long, and somewhat rambling history of Corres Fort, from which she gathered that the prime function of the Fort was to authorise ships to trade in Kyralian waters and to collect the import and export taxes imposed on their cargoes. There was another Fort on the other side of the country which carried out similar duties. That accounted for the presence of the King's Guard who would be required to protect the large sums raised and provide an escort when funds were transferred to Imardin.
After a while, Sonea ceased to pay attention, merely nodding at intervals while Mostyn continued his lecture. She was more interested in the numerous small groups of magicians, trying to decide who was forming alliances with whom. Kelda and Regin were going from group to group, stopping for a time to engage in friendly conversation, then moving on. She wondered if it would be possible to get near a group they were likely to visit, just so she could hear what they were saying, but she decided, on reflection, that was not a particularly good idea. The less attention Regin paid to her the better. Unlike Kelda, he did know Sonea and had, for a long time. They had been classmates during their noviciate and had frequently clashed during the times he had tried to drive her from the Guild. No, it was better she avoided Regin.
She took a glass of wine from the nearest table and offered it to Mostyn. Perhaps if he had wine to sip, it would slow down his ability to talk, she thought rather unkindly. The wine looked good, a light rose colour with a faint fruity fragrance, so she took one for herself. The cool liquid felt good in her mouth too, the taste of slightly tart fresh fruit refreshing her dry throat. She took a sweet cake as well. It was small, but delicious and she quickly took another two or three.
"Healer Jalette?"
The voice from just behind her left shoulder made her jump. She quickly brushed the crumbs from her mouth and turned to face the fort servant who was standing respectfully, waiting for her full attention.
"Yes, I am Jalette," she said, "what do you want?"
"You need to come with me, my lady, there's been an accident."
So it begins, she thought as she turned to follow him. He led her swiftly up several staircases to another long corridor with doors off. He stopped by the farthest door and knocked softly. The door opened and she heard him say, "The Healer's here." She could not hear a response from whoever was inside, but the door opened further and the servant motioned her to enter the room.
She found herself in a similar room to her own accommodation, although this one only had four beds in it. Three were empty, but the fourth was not. She walked slowly towards it, mentally crossing her fingers that she remembered enough of her own Healing lessons, as well as those given recently by Lorlen, to help whoever was injured. Arriving at the bedside, she could see that it was a young Warrior. He lay on his back, deathly still. There was no obvious injury, and she felt a rising sense of panic. A bloody head wound, or a broken limb would have been fairly straightforward to deal with, but this…She stood staring down at the Warrior, totally oblivious to anything else.
"Well," came a quiet voice, "what do you think?"
She turned slowly and found herself staring straight into Akkarin's eyes.