by Jeff Gunzel
But Jarlen knew a thing or two about Diovok’s magic, having seen it up close more times than he cared to admit. The transition between offensive magic and defensive was difficult to do. Concentrating on one meant he had no intention of using the other. Perhaps he really was here just to talk. Resisting the urge to shake out his burning arm, Jarlen rejoined the group. Determined to maintain his dignity, he sat back down as if nothing was wrong.
“Are you finished?” Diovok asked, his voice echoing from behind his mask. Although there was no way to see his expression, Jarlen could feel the beast smiling at him. “Good. I would have hoped you were long past this petty vengeance. But as you can see, I still took the necessary precautions.”
“What do you want?” Jarlen growled, no longer amused by this encounter.
“What everybody wants in times like these. I want to survive the days, weeks, and years ahead.”
“What do you want from me?” Jarlen clarified. His hate for this man had only intensified as the years passed, and now with him sitting right here and not being able to touch him, it was only increasing more with each passing second.
“I have a proposition for you,” Diovok explained. “I don’t imagine I need to explain to you what sort of danger the humans are in these days. However, you are not human.”
“Neither are you.”
“But that will make little difference when the ghatins come to attack my human city. I think we both know that.”
“Let me guess,” Jarlen said, each word dripping from his tongue as he savored the moment. “You’ve come here to beg for my help. You’ve practically crawled here on your hands and knees to grovel to the only person, the person you tortured for years, who can possibly protect the city of Shadowfen. Am I close?”
“I’ve come to offer a proposition,” Diovok repeated, his overly quick response betraying his usual calm. Jarlen’s string of taunts was beginning to get under his skin. “The ghatins pose a great danger to me, and I’ve already admitted as such. But I don’t know that my problem is any less significant than yours.”
“My problem?”
Diovok leaned up in his seat, his mask now within an inch of Jarlen’s face. “Rumor has it that you are not the only one in charge of a lerwick army. Tell me, old friend, is there any truth to that rumor?” Jarlen snarled, now finally understanding Diovok’s leverage. “Let’s not pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I have it under control,” Jarlen growled, at least acknowledging that there was some truth to that story.
“Do you, now?” Diovok replied smugly, refusing to lean back as he gazed into Jarlen’s eyes. Five seconds of silence under that knowing gaze felt like an hour to Jarlen. “If that is true, then I suppose we have nothing to offer one another.” When Diovok rose from his chair, the black knights shifted their swords from one shoulder to the other. With the position change came the shrill bang of metal on metal.
“Well, I’m glad to see that my old friend has a plan at least,” Diovok continued, brushing off his sleeves as a casual way of stalling. “I wouldn’t want to think that your pride had gotten in the way of your better judgment. We’re both bigger than that, right? A shame, though, I was looking forward to wiping your sister and her army from the face of Ayrith.”
Diovok spread his arms and twisted from side to side, a sweeping gesture to highlight the muscle at his back. “It would be no challenge, my men are trained and ready. That, combined with my mastery of the arts, we match up rather well with...your kind.” Standing like statues up until now, a few of his knights actually laughed at his poke towards lerwicks.
But Jarlen knew that everything he was saying was true enough. Trained human soldiers, all aided by Diovok’s protective magic, could actually pose a tremendous threat for the lerwicks. Although quite formidable in their own right, lerwicks weren’t designed for fighting humans. It simply wasn’t their strength.
Diovok leaned forward, his large knuckles bending the top of the table. “Can you really sit here and tell me you don’t think we can assist each other?” he asked. Still, Jarlen stood silent. He too was stalling, it seemed.
“Pride, then,” Diovok confirmed, retaking his seat. “Fine, I’ll say what needs to be said so you can keep your foolish pride. I promised the people of Shadowfen I could protect them from the ghatins. That was a lie, I do not have the means or ability to do any such a thing.”
Jarlen blinked. Diovok really was laying all his cards on the table here.
“I lied because I wanted to gain their trust at any cost. I told them what they wanted to hear, what they needed to hear, so I could rule over them and take control of the city. I even murdered their king and blamed him for treason, effectively sending all blame and suspicion into the ground along with his ice-cold corpse. But in my quest for power I’ve dug myself a hole, one I can’t get out of without your help.
“I’m not asking for your loyalty or friendship, Jarlen. I know how much you despise me, and quite frankly, I don’t care. What I offer has nothing to do with friendship. Use your army to defend the people of Shadowfen from the impending ghatin attack we all know is inevitable, and I’ll crush your sister and her army of rebels. After we both get what we want, we’ll go our separate ways and you will never hear from me again.
“Whether you believe it or not, I know you quite well, Jarlen. After all, a man reveals his true self when faced with moments of the purest suffering.” Jarlen scowled, his eyes smoldering with the reminder of what he had endured. It was all he could do not to attempt a second attack on his former captor.
“It’s in those moments of anguish, of pure torment, that a man’s soul comes to the surface. I looked into those eyes of yours, Jarlen, and did not see the animal everyone claimed you were. I saw ambition, desire, a man who would achieve greatness one day. I saw a man who would stop at nothing to seize the power that was rightfully his. Was I wrong? Do you not crave power? I think you do, and I’m offering you a chance to seize it on your own terms.
“The ghatins will not all attack at once. Their small numbers will be no match for you and your lerwicks. Protect my city for the coming weeks until they are all dead, or give up trying to take Shadowfen. Then I shall take my forces into the mountains and wipe out your sister’s army.
“Once our tasks are complete, you will be left unchallenged. As far as I’m concerned, this entire realm can be yours. Call yourself a king. Call yourself a god, it makes no difference to me, for you’ll never see me again. What say you?”
Jarlen sat back down, pretending to consider what was undeniably a mutually beneficial agreement. His mind was made up, but he wanted to at least give the illusion that he was pondering the deal. A god, he thought to himself, considering all the possibilities.
Jarlen knew what needed to be done. Still, he poured over the plan in his mind as they sat in silence. Oh, but he hated this man, the relentless thought that just kept racing through his head.
Chapter 14
“Hmm... Hmm...” Hamas hummed repeatedly as he read the same note to himself several times over. This had been the pattern for days now. If nothing else, the man was thorough in his work. Analyzing each message sent from cities which were undoubtedly gone now, then cross-referencing them with Bella’s maps and notes, and finally coming to his own conclusion, had been a time-consuming, painstaking process. But people’s lives were at stake, so there could be no room for error.
“Here?” Liam asked, beginning to place yet another tack in the giant wall map pinned up on the far wall.
Hamas rushed up to guide his hand, barely moving it one millimeter to the left. “There,” Hamas confirmed, staring at the tack’s relocation a moment longer to verify that was indeed where he wanted it. Liam let out an irritated sigh, but couldn’t question Hama’s obsession with perfection. After all, perfection was more or less his livelihood.
Liam stepped back to take a long look at the map covered with blue and yellow tacks. Perhaps he was not the savant that Ham
as was, but he knew a pattern when he saw it. “It appears that Bella was correct,” he said, tracing a finger along the lower portion of the map. “The ghatins are attacking the outlying villages and working their way inland, effectively cutting off all retreat. It’s a smart tactic, one that I would have used as well.”
“I urge you to look closer,” Hamas said without looking up from the message he was holding. He was going through them one last time, really just a final pass in case he missed anything. Even the smallest details might still be important. But effectively they were finished. All the information they had at their disposal had been added and analyzed.
“What do you mean?” Liam asked, trying to keep the flash of irritation from his voice. He wasn’t used to being questioned, particularly with something that seemed so obvious. “They are clearly hitting the outer rings, see?” He traced a finger across the blue tacks. “And here are all the sightings, also on the outskirts.” This time he traced the yellow tacks. “They are clearly—”
“Hitting all the outer villages first,” Hamas finished for him, finally content to put down the fistful of notes. “Yes, it would appear so. But they are not doing it on purpose.” Liam blinked, then turned his attention back to the map. What was he missing here?
“Birds are not particularly smart creatures,” Hamas said, picking up a feather and a wooden dowel with numbered notches etched into it. “They fly into windows, they are easy enough to catch with even the most primitive of traps, yet they’re strangely gifted at one particular thing. A remarkable sense of direction. A bird’s ability to migrate is second nature, yet sometimes a perfect instinct can be mistaken for brilliance. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Moving the dowel along the map, he began marking small black dots while stopping every so often just to dip his feather in a nearby ink bottle. After a time, the map was pretty marked up and looking rather messy.
“What is in this location here?” Hamas asked, pointing to one of the yellow tacks near the top of the map.
“A ghatin sighting,” Liam answered.
“Yes, but what town was it?”
“Himbleton, if memory serves.”
“Almost,” Hamas said, moving his finger a mere half inch to the right. “This is where Himbleton was.”
Liam scoffed. “Are you really going to start splitting hairs on me?”
“And what was this over here?” Again, he moved his finger over to another tack.
“Brimfield,” Liam answered, this time a bit more curious.
“That is correct,” Hamas confirmed. “And unlike your guess about Himbleton, this is actually Brimfield’s exact location. Are you still with me?” Liam nodded, now moving up close to the map to study it carefully. “Klutram, Junsberg, Plainsville...”
Hamas began pointing out all the smaller villages that were now long gone, crushed by the ghatins. Some had been hit head-on, marked out in blue. But some of the sightings were off by substantial margins, even occupying territories that were practically barren. What was once a clear pattern was now beginning to look random.
“Now look here,” Hamas said, ignoring the colored tacks and instead focusing on the black dots he had casually measured out. “Please, count the dots between here and here,” he said, tracing his finger from a lower spot to a higher one.
“Sixty-eight,” Liam said, now hanging on Hamas’s every word. The old man was clearly onto something.
“Now, count them from here to here.” His finger traced along what looked to be two peaks in the wavelike pattern, just before the ghatins moved back to the south.
“Twelve.”
“Here to here?” Again, another north-to-south path.
Liam hesitated, double, then triple-checking before he dared answer. “Sixty-eight,” he said under his breath. On and on the two numbers kept repeating, a perfect pattern regarding area and space, yet having very little to do with the locations of any villages or cities. Barren mountains had been covered, yet once they hit sixty-eight clicks, they moved further to the east. Twelve clicks, then navigated south again.
“Like migrating birds, they are simply following an innate sense of direction,” Hamas said confidently, certain that his position had been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“Amazing,” Liam said, still tracing his finger around the map. “They are not seeking towns and villages individually, they are just following a guided instinct that leads them around Ayrith in a precise pattern. If a village or town just so happens to be there...”
“I’m certain there is still a method behind the madness,” Hamas added, flicking one of the tacks from the map. “If they continue following along this trajectory, they eventually cover the entire realm. That is the basic math of it. But if this pattern holds, then we know what they’re going to do even before they do. Liam, it is time we tell the others.”
When Hamas glanced up, he noticed Liam already rolling up the maps. Apparently, the mystic was in full agreement.
*
“You two are certain of this?” Rishima asked, eyeing the crumpled map haphazardly pinned against the wall. In their haste to reveal their findings, neither Liam or Hamas had properly secured their work. Nearly all the tacks had fallen out, and the white folded creases made it nearly unreadable.
“Most certain,” Hamas said, a bit embarrassed by the circumstances. The least they could have done was properly preserve the evidence before trying to rush here and present it.
“There is no mistake,” Liam confirmed, rising from his chair. “You were close, Your Highness,” he added, addressing Bella directly. “But we were focused on the wrong details. Unlike what we first thought, their attacks have nothing to do with human settlements.”
“But their instincts are not random or without purpose,” Hamas added, moving toward the mangled map. He began tracing his finger up and down in a wavelike motion. “This is how they’re moving, with little to no change in their trajectory.” He moved his finger slightly, then continued on in an up and down, wavy pattern. “Remember, they have broken up into small groups, with each group moving in a similar way. If they continue as they have, they will cover nearly every inch of Ayrith within a few months.”
“But we know exactly where they’re going and when they’ll be there, correct?” Viola asked.
“Assuming they don’t break their pattern, and so far they have not, then that is correct,” Liam answered.
“But surely they know this as well,” Bella said. “As ruthless as they are, they are also intelligent beings. I can only assume they would change course if they suspect we are onto them.”
“That is hard to say for certain,” Hamas admitted, tapping a finger against his chin. It was a little deflating to see this genius of a man suddenly so unsure of this particular aspect. “There are so many factors to consider. Do they even have the will to push back against their own instincts, effectively changing their very nature at its core? And if so, what would it take to make them do that in the first place? Truthfully, we don’t even know if they are aware they’re even doing it.
“No matter, I suspect that all of this is a moot point anyway. Until they’ve actually felt threatened, it’s impossible to say how they might react. Remember, they have no reason to fear the humans.”
“Then we use that to our advantage,” Viola said, her words drawing the room’s attention. “You said it yourself, we really don’t know how they will respond to feeling endangered. So why even push those boundaries? Right now they are completely predictable. Why change that? In the meantime, we must prepare an all-out offensive. This might be our one chance.”
She rushed over to the far side of the room and retrieved one of the many maps, as well as a handful of tacks. “Hamas, Liam,” she said, unrolling it across the table. “Where are the next most likely attacks going to occur? Show us.”
Taking the initiative, Hamas scooped up the tacks and began sticking them into the map. “Here, and here, and here, and...” Viola’s shoulders slumped just a bi
t further with each new tack being placed. The placements seemed to go on for some time before he finally placed the last tack. “And here...” With a sigh he glanced up at her. “These are not the most likely places they will strike, these are exactly the places they will strike.
“And I know what you were thinking, Viola, but it’s not going to work. Yes, all their positions are accounted for, but you don’t have the manpower to have forces waiting at every location. Even if you did, your men are too raw at this stage to handle that level of combat. You would be risking their lives as well.”
“I can’t accept that,” she said, dejected. “I can’t stand back and do nothing. We may never have another chance like this.”
“You choose,” Liam said, sounding even more dejected than she did. He wanted nothing more than to spare her from this burden, but they were long past that now. She was going to have to rise up and make some decisions, no matter how difficult they may be. “That is what leaders do, and these are the kinds of decisions that keep them up at night. You must choose who lives and who dies. I’m sorry, but you cannot save everyone.”
The room fell silent. It was a harsh reality indeed, and the weight of that landed squarely on Viola’s shoulders. Even though they had discovered one of the ghatins’ only weaknesses, they didn’t have the resources to fully take advantage of it.
Steeling herself, Viola hovered over the map as her eyes drifted from tack to tack. Towns and villages filled with women and children soon to be wiped out, and she was powerless to stop it. Best not to think about what can’t be helped. Her eyes stopped moving and she jabbed a finger into the map.
It’s all a game of numbers. Save who you can, then push on to the next game of numbers. She wanted to throw up.
“Shadowfen,” Liam said, giving a slight nod while looking down at the map.
“I will take two dozen of my best men,” Viola said. “Shadowfen still has the largest population remaining, so they take top priority. The others must find a way to hold out long enough for us to reach them.” She looked up to Hamas. “How long?”
