Reckoning

by David Adams

  “What of the book?” Xanar wanted to know. “Even if we succeed, they could be called back, the next day or in a hundred years. We need to destroy the book as well.”

  “As difficult as defeating the brothers would be, the book is another matter. It cannot be destroyed by any means I am aware of. If I knew how it could be done, I’d help you do it, on the odd chance I might be released into death.”

  “Is there anyone else that might have an idea how to do it?” Uesra asked.

  “Given that neither I nor Aerlos can do so, I’d say your only hope is one of the brothers. I’m certain they won’t tell you how to do it even if they know how. Being helpful isn’t in their natures, unless it serves them. My guess is even they could not destroy it, at least not here.”

  “The abyss?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Maybe we should agree to tackle that one after we dispatch the three brothers,” Xanar said with a smirk. “Keep it simple. One little task at a time.”

  Silas studied the withered man before him, found it hard to believe someone that now appeared so frail and helpless had helped unleash such pain on the world. “I don’t suppose you have any advice for us on how to beat them.”

  “With your best interests in mind, I would advise you all go back to the Auerl Forest, and hope to live out your days there in relative peace and safety. If you choose to fight… Your opponents are strong, smart, and possess innate magic that you cannot match.”

  “We cannot,” Barlow said. “But another, far greater than us, can see us through to victory, if that be His will.”

  Belzlak paused a moment before replying. “I’ll not insult your faith, especially if it gives you hope, something my life sorely lacks. I would submit to you, however, that your god, at the least, appears to have abandoned this world.”

  “Never that,” Silas said. “We cannot know His plans. Whether we are to be His instruments for cleansing this world is known only to Him. We can but do what we feel He asks of us.”

  “And what of the rest of you? Surely you elves are not believers.”

  “I believe there is a power greater than any of us,” Uesra said, “a power that is innately good. It seems to me, Belzlak, that after what you’ve been through you’d acknowledge as much.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You have proven to yourself the existence of the abyss, a place of evil, a place where souls go to be tormented eternally. You would know such a place exists with a certainty few could ever have, and yet deny there to be an opposite realm, a place of good, where souls are rewarded?”

  “The existence of one does not necessarily confirm the existence of the other.”

  “Agreed. But all my instincts say it is so. If there are higher powers, and they are all evil, how does good continue on in the world, especially in the face of such trials and despair?”

  “If ‘good,’ as you term it, wins out in Corterra, I might cede your point. For now, evil seems to be winning the day.”

  “You can’t move him,” Barlow said to Uesra, “not even if we slay those demons. His heart is too cold and hard. And accepting such a thing would remind him forevermore of the poor choices he has made. Perhaps the demon he dealt with did not keep his part of the bargain after all. An eternity of sorrow, without hope, sounds like damnation to me.”

  Belzlak smiled, but he clearly needed to force his lips to curl so. “I regret I cannot see you face the brothers. You in particular, Barlow. It would be good to see you fall, to see the look of anguish in your eyes as you realize all your efforts, all your life, all your beliefs are no more than dust.”

  “I may fall in body, but not in spirit. Nothing you can say or do will change that.”

  “Such is the way of the fool.”

  “I’ll gladly take such a title, if you deem yourself otherwise.”

  “Again, I would enjoy an eternity of such banter, but the hour grows late, at least as far as Corterra is concerned. You are welcome to stay as long as you like, and to take shelter here. Anything I have is yours, literally, although it will avail you nothing in the end.” Belzlak’s words were those of invitation, but there was an undertone of taunting to them.

  “We’ll be moving on,” Silas said. “We can’t wait out the winter here.”

  “I would not even spend the night,” said Barlow.

  “Not even to enjoy the shelter from the frigid wind? You could start a nice fire down below…use the furniture if you like.”

  He waited through a short silence, then went on. “Oh, well. Best you get to your doom as soon as possible. I’ll even help you speed your journey.”

  “How so?” Adrianna asked.

  “I sense enough foolishness, false bravado, whatever you want to call it to guess you will be heading back south from here, in order to hunt down the brothers. There is a small city, really just a village, called Tradoon, which sits along the coast perhaps two hundred miles south of this tower. The residents have been known to trade with the citizens of Dalusia, specifically in Genola and Antigo. I’m sure the war has hurt such dealings, maybe even stopped them, but when the trading was active, the residents of Tradoon used special skiffs that could cross the wide inlet to the bay where the Footstep Islands lay. The skiffs work on water or ice, so they could make the journey year round. Weeks faster than having to travel all the way back to Elysium’s Neck to make a land crossing.

  “And the downside to this shortcut?” Silas asked.

  “None that I am aware of,” Belzlak replied. “Of course, if I was up to some sort of treachery, as you all suspect, I wouldn’t admit to it. You could have my word that I speak the truth, but I suppose that carries little weight.”

  “We can agree on that, at least,” Barlow said.

  “How long since you’ve had dealings with anyone from Tradoon?” Uesra asked. “I’ve not heard of the place.”

  “Over a hundred and fifty years,” Belzlak answered. “Time flies.”

  “So they may not even be there.”

  Belzlak shrugged. “Maybe not.”

  Darius took advantage of the pause that ensued to place his hands on the book. Belzlak released it without hesitation or resistance, and Darius closed it and put it back in his pack.

  “If you hope to destroy the book, I’ll wish you luck, long as the odds might be.”

  The words carried enough sincerity that the companions were unsure how to respond. They started back down the stairs, and Darius, bringing up the rear, turned and took one last look at the forlorn creature. “Farewell,” he said in a voice just above a whisper, if only to fill the awkward silence.

  The word drew a quick, tight smile from Belzlak. “Not likely.”

  Darius turned away, leaving him to his personal prison.

  By unspoken consent they moved generally southeast after they left the tower, not making any choice as to their ultimate direction of travel. In reality they could have discussed things in front of Belzlak, or on the lower floors of his tower, but they wanted some distance before they decided, and perhaps some time to think. After an hour the tower was long behind them, and they stopped to consider what course of action they should take.

  Barlow interrupted when Silas was ready to start things off. “If you don’t mind, I think I should speak first.” After Silas nodded, he went on. “It’s obvious to all of you that I not only don’t trust him, my general feeling is he would be happy to do more harm to us and our world, especially if it benefited him in some way. That said, I think we should go south, to find Tradoon and quicken our journey of we can. Even if he’s lying, or the place is simply no longer there, I’m not sure the perils would be any greater than heading back west, back past the trolls and the spiders and the fickle dragon.”

  “I vote for south as well,” Adrianna chimed in, returning Barlow’s smile. It was nice when they could agree on something.

  Silas looked at the elves. “You did say earlier that the snows can be worse on the southern route around the Grim Mounta
ins, correct?”

  Uesra nodded.

  “I only bring it up as a reminder. Perhaps we’ll be less bothered by the wind, and going south should only help as far as the temperature. Regardless, I, too, suggest we try the route, if only for the chance to arrive several weeks earlier. It is worth the risk.”

  “I’m in,” said Darius, “but I have a question for Uesra and Xanar. Is the southern passage far out of your way? I was hoping we’d be able to stay together a while longer.”

  Uesra glanced at Xanar, who smiled broadly. “Unless any of you object, we will go with you. Not as guides, but as friends and allies.”

  “You would be most welcome,” Silas said. “We just assumed you’d head back home after completing the task Aerlos assigned you.”

  “Aerlos told us to decide what we should do after the tower. Your cause is just, and not only for men, but for all of Corterra. If we can aid you, we will.”

  “Besides,” Xanar added, “Barlow’s just starting to open up. I can’t wait to see what kind of jokester he is in a few months.”

  “Considering you’re willing to risk your lives for us—again—I’ll let that pass.” The look on the old paladin’s face was stern and serious, but his eyes twinkled as when he was young.

  “We have several more hours of light,” Adrianna said. “Since we’re all going south, why don’t we keep moving while we talk? Even with such fine company, the journey is still a long one.”

  They took up her idea to keep moving, but it was a while before anyone spoke again, as each contemplated what was now past, and what might be yet to come. As terrifying as their enemies sounded, at least they had been identified. Darius, in particular, thought of how far they had come since his sister had returned home with the Book of Dread, all the obstacles they had overcome. And he thought of Luke. The memory of his brother still pained him, but he promised himself he wouldn’t forget him when he confronted these demon brothers. He didn’t know if he had the strength or wit to defeat them—realized he probably didn’t—but there was never a question about whether he would try. He had to, for himself, for Sasha, and mostly for Luke. His thoughts raised an obvious question. “Anybody have any idea how we’re going to take out these three demons?”

  “Absolutely not,” Silas said.

  “Not very comforting.”

  “But very true.”

  “Find them and fight them,” Uesra said. “That’s all we can say for now.”

  “I don’t know this Praad,” Darius said, “but Orgoth is leading the Longvale army. Based on some of the stories I’ve heard, it’s not just a coincidence of another person also having such a unique name. It’s him.”

  “That presents a problem, and an opportunity,” said Silas. “He’s likely to be surrounded by loyal soldiers, and has an entire army at his command.”

  “And the good part?” Barlow asked.

  “Might be easier to get close to him in an army camp. We can mingle in.”

  “Some of us,” Xanar said, pinching his blue-hued skin in case the others missed his point.

  “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

  “I’ve heard the name Kaelesh as well,” Darius said. “I think he’s one of Landri’s closest advisors.”

  “That makes sense,” Adrianna commented.

  “I’m sure much has changed since we’ve come north,” Darius said, “but once we’re back in Dalusia, if we get wind of the location of the Longvale army, we can go after Orgoth there. Then on to Old Bern for Kaelesh. Maybe this Praad will be with one of them.”

  “I hope not,” Barlow said. “I’d rather try them one at a time. That flaming demon we fought was enough of a challenge. If these three are stronger…well, one at a time will be enough of a test.”

  “It strikes me,” Adrianna said, “that we must be wary on another count. These riders, the sneaky little demon, whatever pursued us to the Auerl—they were after the book, and likely agents of the brothers. We’ve shaken the pursuit off, but now we’re headed straight back toward them. It’s possible we won’t even have to find them. They may find us.”

  With that heartwarming thought they continued on silently through the endless fields of snow.

  Chapter 8: Winter’s Fury

  The town wasn’t much, not big enough to even be on the most detailed maps. The locals, ninety at most, called it Lage, after the founding family. Located along the Coast Road in the northern part of Longvale, it was inhabited by a small collection of traders and fisherman, a place where an honest day’s work was respected and a stranger was welcome but watched with a cautious eye all the same.

  Captain Yosh stood just beyond the edge of town and looked out over the sea. The waves continued their unchanging pattern, crashing to shore and rolling away. There was something soothing about the sound of the waves, even if the cold air and cloud-filled sky were reminders that summer was far away. Yosh thought this little place must be beautiful in summer, could picture the boats coming and going, children playing in the surf, some watching for their father’s return from a fishing trip, the sun glinting off the sea’s glassy surface further out from the shore. He breathed deep, enjoying the smell of the air. He could live in a place like this, he decided.

  “Prisoners are over this way, Captain.”

  The words called Yosh back to the present reality. He didn’t turn right away, needed a chance to transition from the serene images in his mind to the grim truth of the present. He didn’t miss the undertone of disrespect in the simple sentence, especially where his title was concerned. He sighed to himself, knew he had to reply, but wasn’t yet ready to turn from the sea. “And what of the townsfolk, Branst?”

  “All inside. And we found a church.”

  Yosh turned, didn’t like the hungry smile on Branst’s face. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes. We’re ready to start interrogating the townsfolk, see who’s behind it. Unless you’d prefer we assume all of them are.”

  That feral look again, the one that was just waiting for permission to burn down the whole town. “Show it to me,” Yosh ordered instead, knocking some of the smugness from Branst’s expression.

  Yosh followed Branst back into the village, loathing him all the while. Both men had seen the war, had seen some of the atrocities that had been committed under Orgoth’s leadership. No one knew where he came from, and everyone quickly learned such questions were not to be asked. After a few victories, his generalship was proven beyond reproach, and as the wins mounted, the soldiers grew more loyal to their mysterious leader. But just as the war seemed won, the brutality increased, and no one in Dalusia was safe from it. Yosh had been elevated to Captain on the battlefield, after a string of deaths to those senior to him. He was on leave before the worst of the atrocities started, and when it was time to report back he had been ordered to lead a small detachment here in Longvale rather than return to the front. What was at first a relief was soon a dilemma, as the assignments he and his men were asked to carry out grew more and more odious. Branst made it worse, a bloodthirsty worm of a man who liked having the power to torment the helpless. The man enjoyed the worst parts of their assignments far too much for Yosh’s taste, and the Captain’s uneasiness with their increasingly cruel orders made him weak and unfit to lead in Branst’s eyes. Yosh was by far the better swordsman, and didn’t fear an outright fight with Branst, but more and more he realized he had to be careful about a knife in the back.

  The building Branst indicated looked no different than the other small houses that made up the town. The door had been left open and Branst pushed inside, his eagerness apparent. The place was a wreck, a recent development. Yosh had seen what Branst and a couple of his cohorts could do once they had the scent. Most of the items strewn about where those found in any home, which was likely what the place was. The term “church” was being applied more loosely of late, another unsettling development as far as Yosh was concerned.

  Branst dropped to one knee and pointed to where a coup
le of floorboards had been pulled up. “They were trying to hide this under a rug,” he said while he indicated the small hidden space they had found. Inside were four crosses and at least a dozen copies of “The Path to God,” the book the faithful held to be divinely inspired.

  Yosh wanted to sigh, but couldn’t do so in front of Branst. One cross and one book he might try to find a way to ignore, but with so many… “Do we know whose house this is?”

  “Not yet. We’re ready to find out,” he added with a leering smile. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  “A lot of books for such a small place,” Yosh commented. “Well done. You may have uncovered something big here.”

  “I’ll take a couple of men and get to the bottom of this.”

  “No, not yet. I want to deal with the deserters first. Cover the edges of town, make sure no one escapes.”

  Branst’s smile faded at what felt like an unnecessary delay, but the Captain had just complimented him on the find, and as long as no one escaped the fun would start soon enough. Maybe, he thought, someone would make a break for it, and then he could set to the bloody work even sooner. “No one will get away. I’ll see to that.”

  Yosh stepped back outside and watched the man depart to gather up the troops to circle the town. His chest felt tight and his stomach was tied in knots. He could see how this would play out, had seen it before, and knew half the town would be burned to the ground before they left, and half the citizens put to the sword. And he finally admitted something he knew to be the truth for weeks now: it wasn’t right. He had avoided striking anyone himself, had mostly given permission to act by turning away rather than giving orders. It hit him that Branst had been right to have so little respect for him. It hadn’t been so much Yosh’s displeasure at what the army was being used for, but the fact that he hadn’t had the courage to act upon it.

  Yosh had faced war, had been unafraid to lead a charge or take a life, had done well enough to merit a field promotion. But now he was being a coward.