Free Mage's Blood by David Hair Page A

who rule despotically in lavish palaces while nine-tenths of the people must sleep beneath the stars. We are not heathens who dress salaciously and make idols of beast-gods born of dark imaginings. In short, we are not as they
.
    ‘You all know that we are at war with Antiopia. We have led two Crusades to chastise the heathen, and twice, great victories have been won
.
    ‘In nine short months comes the Moontide, when the Leviathan Bridge will rise again from the sea. Once more, we will march, and Yuros steel will ring again in Antiopia. Once more the Kirkegarde will raise the banner of Kore in the Dark Lands
.
    ‘Every morning our brothers in our fortress in Hebusalim scan the skies for windships bringing supplies. Every day they throw back the heathen from their walls. Their need is great. So I say to you, my brothers in Kore: let the Great Muster begin! Let us once more gather and march to Pontus. Let us once more tread the Bridge of the Moontide, the songs of Kore on our lips. Let us bring blessed relief to our sons fighting even now in Hebusalim. Let us give of our blood, our will and our money, to make this Third Crusade the greatest and most glorious of all
.
    ‘Let the Third Crusade begin! This is the will of God!
    ‘Thus speaks our Guide, the God-Emperor of Pallas, Constant Sacrecour.’
    Vult paused for applause, at first hesitant, which swelled in fervour as the soldiers about Cathedral Plaza drummed their spears against their shields, then the roar of the people rose above even that clamour. In the pulpit Vult gave a satisfied smile, enjoying the moment. After a minute, as the noise was just beginning to falter, he raised a hand, and silence fell, at least within the cathedral. Outside the noise of the rain-soaked crowd did not subside until he began to speak once more.
    ‘People of Norostein, those are the words of the emperor: a call to arms from the lips of Kore Himself. How can we do otherwise than to heed it?’ He leant forward. ‘There is one true war on Urte, and it is eternal. It is the war of Good and Evil: the struggle of Kore against the false idols of the heathen. The Bridge was wrought for this – to enable the victory of Kore! And should any of you believe that our war is not just, that friendship with the heathen is possible, let me point out these facts.
    ‘First, it was they, not we, who struck the first blow, massacring traders in Hebusalim.
Our war is just!
Second, it is written in
The Book of Kore
, penned by the Scribes of the Three Hundred themselves, that only those who walk in Kore are worthy of Heaven. Therefore the heathen must perish!
    ‘Third, there is a source of power here in Yuros that brings tyrants, despots and false priests to their knees. The gnosis is that great strength of our people, the gift of Kore, his reward for the sacrifice of Corineus. I speak as one of the descendants of the Blessed Three Hundred: we alone are the wielders of the gnosis. The heathen gods have given no such gift; the heathen have no such shield, and
this
is proof of our rightness, the instrument of our dominion. The gnosis, in the hands of the magi, will light the path to victory and secure our place in Heaven.’
    He had to stop, drowned out by the drumming of iron-clad staves on flagstones and weapons on shields. Alaron looked about the oldgrey cathedral at the other faces around him, all caught up in a fervour of patriotism. He glanced back at his father. Vann Mercer was giving every outward sign of cheering vociferously, but Alaron knew his father better. Watch the eyes, he always said. Now he winked at Alaron, who twitched half a smile and then did some cheering too, in case any of the teachers were watching.
    When the tumult quietened enough, Vult told them recruitment for the legions would begin that afternoon in the plaza, to replenish every Noros legion, then raise five new ones. The ceremony seemed to be over, but Vult, like a master showman, had saved his best trick until last. With