The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus

by D. B. Reynolds

  “He’ll never let me go.”

  Nico’s expression hardened, though she couldn’t see it. “Who says we’re going to ask?” he growled.

  BY THE TIME NICO escorted Antonia back over the hills to Sotiris’s estate, he was Petros Vasilis once more, having recast the seeming spell once they’d started home. With all the emotional turmoil in his head over his feelings for Antonia clouding his thoughts, he’d almost forgotten. She’d been the one to remind him when they’d been about to leave the cover of the forest behind.

  But when Yor greeted them as they dismounted outside the barn, it was Lady Antonia who returned his greeting with a gentle, but friendly smile.

  “And how was the new mare for you, my lady?” Yor asked, placing a mounting block where she could easily reach it, and offering her a hand in assistance.

  “Very pleasant, Master Yor. She has a sweet temper and a remarkably smooth gait. She’ll be an excellent addition to our riding stable, if we can persuade Master Petros to part with her.”

  “It was your gentle hand that brought out the best of the ride, my lady,” Nico commented. “I should perhaps be trying to persuade you to grant us another ride, rather than the other way around.”

  Antonia’s brow arched at his obvious double entendre, the color in her cheeks running high. But not so much that it couldn’t be attributed to the effects of the lengthy horse ride. “Well,” she said gamely. “I would very much enjoy another ride, if you’re willing.”

  “It would be a distinct pleasure, my lady. I’m honored.” He raised a brow of his own in a leer, careful that Yor couldn’t see. He was about to suggest a time and day, when everyone turned at the sound of shouting from the gate.

  “Lord Sotiris has returned,” Antonia said, her eyes wide with alarm when she looked at Nico. “Forgive me, Master Petros. I must run if I’m to be ready when my lord calls for me.”

  Nico watched her leave, the skirts of her riding coat held high as she ran for the kitchen door across the courtyard. It galled him to leave her alone with Sotiris. She clearly had no love for him, and from the worry in her eyes when she realized he’d returned, it might be that she feared the bastard instead. Fuming at his inability to do anything about her situation in that moment, he hardened his protections against the possibility of Sotiris detecting his presence, and began making plans to free Antonia from his clutches, even if it meant finally killing the enemy sorcerer once and for all.

  SOTIRIS RODE through the gates with his escort, tired after the long unnecessary journey. If the fool sorcerer he’d ridden to visit hadn’t possessed something Sotiris had wanted desperately, he’d never have agreed to the visit. Even so, he could have fetched the damn object using his own much greater power if the other would have agreed. He’d have to reevaluate the man’s usefulness after this. If everything went as planned, Sotiris would defeat Nicodemus in the coming war, and there’d be no one left to stop his plans to rule . . . everyone. Perhaps then, the fool’s value would diminish sufficiently that he could be disposed of, along with Nicodemus.

  He couldn’t have said what interrupted his thoughts and had his face lifting like a hound’s to scent the air around him. Just for a moment, he thought he’d detected an intruder, someone he couldn’t identify. He just knew that whoever it was didn’t belong within Sotiris’s estate. But a moment later, the scent was gone as servants and stable boys came running, surrounding the riders like ants on a hill, eager to serve their betters in the only way that gave their lives purpose.

  He caught sight of his estate manager as he dismounted and gestured the man to come closer. “Where is Lady Antonia?” It irritated him that she wasn’t among the small crowd that had come out to greet him.

  “The lady is in the kitchens, seeing to the proper preparation of your meal, my lord. Your journey must have gone smoothly.”

  It was the man’s way of noting that they’d had no advance warning of Sotiris’s arrival, though he’d never have been so bold to speak it outright. Sotiris never sent word of his imminent return, although he knew the estate manager posted watchers when the lord was expected, in order to prepare an appropriate reception. Sotiris preferred to surprise his people, to ensure they were doing their proper tasks even when he wasn’t there to see to it. Antonia had the authority to oversee the staff when he was gone, but for all her skill with magic, and what he had to admit was a fine mind, she was far too gentle when dealing with the servants.

  Sotiris didn’t bother to acknowledge the manager’s response, other than to glance without interest at the bustle of servants and luggage, and say, “See to all this before coming inside.” He then strode into his tower without another word.

  Chapter Five

  THE NEXT MORNING, Nico passed through the gate of Sotiris’s estate with a nod of greeting to the guards, who once more saw horse master Petros Vasilis arriving for work.

  “No fancy horses this morning, Petros?” one of the guards called with a gap-toothed grin.

  “Just this one,” he replied, leaning forward to slap the gelding’s neck.

  “He’s a beauty.”

  Nico tipped his cap in thanks and continued through the yard, around the main buildings, and to the barn, where the mares recognized him and called a loud greeting. He dismounted and stabled the gelding, then began checking other horses in the barn, including his two mares. He’d always enjoyed working with horses, and liked to think he had a special affinity for them. So he didn’t mind doing Petros’s chores. It gave him something to do while he waited for Antonia to show up at the barn.

  He’d spent much of the previous night worrying over her situation. The question of her safety with Sotiris once more in residence had been foremost in his thoughts, though there was little or nothing he could do to change the situation, short of getting rid of Sotiris once and for all. That solution wasn’t out of reach, since he and Sotiris both were building toward one more battle before the winter snows locked them in their respective towers until spring.

  They’d already waged too many battles, fighting for control of fields and towns and the farmers and tradesmen who worked there. But those battles had been nothing but substitutes for their real competition, which had little to do with land and peasants, and everything to do with magic. Nico would have been content to share his world with Sotiris, just as he did with many other magic users with less power. Sotiris was just one more.

  The problem was two-fold. First, Sotiris was a negligent and demanding lord, which had most of those whose land they fought over preferring Nico as their lord. By the same token, he was too much aware of the farmers’ plight to walk away from a fight that would improve their lives and livelihoods. But the most stubborn aspect that kept them at war was Sotiris’s refusal to concede even a square foot of land without fighting for it. He simply wouldn’t accept that Nico was the stronger sorcerer, and was determined to fight war after war in an effort to prove himself the greater power.

  And so they fought. Months could go by with no new battle between them, but everyone knew it was a fragile interlude, and that the next conflict was already brewing.

  And that brought Nico’s thoughts back to Antonia, and the need to ensure her safety by finally getting rid of Sotiris permanently. It brought to light, in a way it hadn’t before, the need to kill Sotiris. The bastard was an expert at surrendering the field when it became clear he was about to lose, and he seemed to experience neither grief nor guilt at leaving his loyal people continuing to fight while he fled. Maybe he fooled himself into considering his many flights to be strategic retreats, rather than the blatant acts of cowardice that they so clearly were.

  Still, Nico had always permitted those retreats, making no attempt to chase down his enemy and eliminate him. He told himself he was saving lives that might have been lost, had he continued the fight. But perhaps the time had come for him to set aside his own brand of c
owardice, if not for his world which had suffered too many decades of constant battle, then for Lady Antonia. He was ashamed to admit that it was her safety that finally tilted his position toward the goal of sending Sotiris to his death.

  At some point, Nico became aware that he’d been so caught up in his stable work, and the hours it provided for him to get lost in his own thoughts, that most of the morning had already passed. He removed his hat, mopped his brow, and put the hat back on, then set aside his pitchfork, and walked the long length of the barn to the big, open doors. The sun was almost directly overhead, which confirmed his sense of the time. But there’d been no sign of Antonia. He considered it likely that Sotiris would demand most of her time now that he’d returned—for at least the next few days, in any event.

  Antonia had said Sotiris had undertaken the long, arduous journey to visit a friend who possessed an item or knowledge that Sotiris required, and that the friend would only do business in person. If Sotiris had been willing to discomfit himself to that extent in order to acquire what he wanted, then he was working on a new spell that might well be near completion. It could even be the case that the spell’s finish was lacking only that one component that the distant friend possessed. In which case, Sotiris would expect Antonia to work closely with him to finish the spell, possibly for several days.

  Nico considered all this as he stood in the barn’s open doorway, enjoying the relatively cooler air, and wondering what his enemy was plotting. It was a certainty that whatever fiendish spell Sotiris was crafting would be used against Nico and his people.

  Antonia might know precisely what was involved. Her magic didn’t reach the heights of Nico’s or Sotiris’s, but it was powerful all the same. In some ways, her skill with new spells was greater than theirs, because of her affinity for nature and her brilliance in crafting the right words and components. The hexagon she’d designed and created was the perfect example, though the final product chilled her soul with its deadly nature.

  Nico had far greater power, but he didn’t possess the patience or spell knowledge to even imagine such a weapon, much less to create it himself. But he could use it, and so could Sotiris. Once it was properly primed, it would be powerful enough to change the very trajectory of their conflict. He’d questioned his own thinking in having Antonia return the damn thing to Sotiris’s tower, and had to admit that her safety had been the overriding factor. But in the final analysis, he benefitted from the deception, too. Better for him to know of the hexagon’s existence and location, while permitting Sotiris to believe the thing to be safe and secret, than to ignite an immediate confrontation with Sotiris when he discovered the device had been relocated to Nico’s tower. Especially when Antonia was the only other person who knew of the hexagon, understood what it could do, and had the necessary access to steal it.

  Besides, while she clearly didn’t trust the weapon in Sotiris’s hands, she hadn’t yet made up her mind about Nico either, and still seemed to prefer destroying the thing altogether. The fact that she hadn’t could mean the hexagon was too volatile to reliably risk destruction. And that made Nico wonder if Sotiris’s recent journey had been to acquire some final component of the device or spell that would stabilize it sufficiently for use. He should have asked Antonia about that, but he’d been too intent on seducing her instead. Idiot. He’d have to remember to ask next time he saw her, which didn’t appear likely to happen on this day.

  Catching Yor’s eye when the man came around the barn, driving a small wagon, Nico walked over. “Good morning, Yor, though the greeting’s a tad late, it seems.”

  Yor tipped his head back to glance up at the sky. “It’s an autumn sun, already speeding through the sky. I was by earlier, but you barely noticed. It’s a lucky man who enjoys his work that much.”

  “I like horses,” Nico said, with an unapologetic shrug. “Speaking of which, has the Lady Antonia been down this morning? I was hoping she’d give the mare another ride. It’s good reinforcement for the horse’s training.”

  “Oh, aye. The lady had nothing but good words for that mare. She came by the barn last night, after dinner. The meal’s a more formal affair with the lord returned, so it was late. But I found her in the stall, spoiling the beauty with carrots and nose rubs. She didn’t say anything about riding today, though. She can’t get out here as often when Lord Sotiris is in residence.”

  “Ah. I’d almost forgotten he’d returned yesterday. Too concerned with my own chores, I suppose. Well, if you see her again tonight, please tell her I’m available at her convenience. She’s a fine rider, and a good match for the mare.”

  “I’ll do that. You still staying down in the town?”

  “Aye. It’s a nice room I’m renting, with a good stable. And I do enjoy a pint in the tavern of an evening.”

  “Well, I’d best be getting this feed out to the cattle,” Yor said, and with a flick of the reins and a tip of his head, he headed around the barn and down the dirt path to the grassy fields where a goodly number of cattle grazed contentedly.

  Frustrated at the situation, which was largely of his own making, Nico went back to work. He needed to finish up and get back to his own estate before dark. He was beginning to suspect Sotiris would declare war much sooner than Nico had originally assumed. He had his own preparations to complete, his own commanders to brief and armies to call up and arm, his own sorcerous weapons to design and test.

  He’d see Antonia tomorrow. If she couldn’t come to him, then he’d damn well go to her.

  ANTONIA SAT hunched over her worktable, fingers cramped and eyes straining as she fought to complete the last, fine details of the hexagon and the spell that would arm it. She worked by simple candlelight, rather than using any of her energy to power the brighter light of a sorcerer’s lantern. The urgency to finish was an evil spirit looking over her shoulder, judging her efforts and finding them wanting. She’d known all along that time was short to finish the device, if she hoped to get it to Nico. Although before meeting him, she hadn’t been sure that was the best course. She’d had an alternate plan in the event Nico had turned out to be either a brutal autocrat like Sotiris, or at the other extreme, a foolish womanizer who couldn’t be trusted with such a powerful device.

  Now that she’d met him—and so much more—that concern had been put to rest. Unfortunately, Sotiris’s return had brought the unwellcome news that he was accelerating his timetable for declaring war on Nicodemus. He wouldn’t tell her why, other than hinting at a spell that would deprive Nico of his best weapon at the very onset of the war, irrevocably shifting the scales of power and ensuring Sotiris’s victory.

  Antonia had wracked her brain, replaying every conversation she could remember having with Sotiris over the last few months, but could come up with nothing that would equal so powerful a spell. It couldn’t be a device, since Sotiris would almost certainly have demanded her assistance, since she was, very simply, more skilled than he was at the fine work involved in crafting magical devices. That left only a spell of some sort, which could be anything. The only hint she’d had was that Sotiris had successfully acquired some critical element during his recent journey. But since he wouldn’t tell her anything beyond that, she had no idea what it could be.

  She straightened abruptly when her back cramped without warning, a knife blade of pain sliding between overworked muscles. Her desk was higher than usual, positioned to enable her to work standing or sitting in equal comfort . . . or discomfort. She sat on a high stool, feet propped on the bar between the legs. The stool had no backing and so provided no relief for her muscles, even when she straightened to relax. She’d promised herself more than once that she’d appeal to one of the estate’s woodworkers for a better design, but it seemed there was always some other demand on her time. And now that time was slipping between her fingers as she raced to finish the hexagon and get it to Nico.

  But it wasn’t only the hexagon occ
upying her thoughts. Sotiris’s comment regarding Nico’s “best weapon,” kept replaying in her head while she worked. She knew little of his weapons or spells, and what she did know had come from Sotiris, who was full of disdain for his foremost enemy. Their dinner conversation was often peppered with sneering observations of Nico’s irreverent approach to life and living, and scornful comments regarding the four warriors whom Nico had reportedly called to his side from the four corners of the world, with the express purpose of defeating Sotiris. Though she’d never said so aloud, Antonia had considered it quite brilliant on Nico’s part to have recruited such warriors, and thought it spoke well of him that the warriors had traveled over long distances to fight a war in which they had no allegiance, only to fight at the side of a sorcerer whom they’d never met. That fact, more than any other, had convinced her to approach Nico with the hexagon.

  But now Sotiris was plotting something else, something that he believed would turn the battle to his ultimate victory. He knew about the hexagon, of course, knew what a powerful weapon it was, and still believed it would be his to use. But it wasn’t the hexagon he meant when he spoke of a spell that would deprive Nico of his greatest weapon. So what was it? And more importantly, what was Nico’s greatest weapon? If she knew that, she might be able to figure out what Sotiris was up to. But she simply didn’t know enough, which made her a poor vessel for such a critical piece of information.

  She stood and began pacing the room, forced to thread her way around not only furniture, but piles of books and dismantled devices, which, though well organized, still occupied too much floor space. Finding the room unsatisfactory for meaningful pacing, she slipped down the few stairs to the main hallway and resumed her march back and forth.

  It was the silence that finally penetrated her spinning thoughts, and made her realize how late the hour was. Feeling as though she was the only person awake in the entire castle, she crossed to a narrow window and saw that even the kitchens below were dark, with only the reddish gleam of a banked stove fire lighting the empty room. She stared for a moment while her thoughts took an entirely unexpected turn, then walked quickly to a crossing hallway and over to a second window which looked down on the barn and paddocks. It too appeared totally dark and unoccupied, though she knew at least one stable hand would be on night duty, most likely dozing in a warm corner.