Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3)

by Craig Alanson

  DECEPTIONS

  Book3 of the Ascendant trilogy

  By Craig Alanson

  Text copyright 2017 Craig Alanson

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Master wizard Shomas Feany was up to his waist crossing an icy stream, holding his breath against the numbing shock and stumbling on smooth stones he could not see, when Lord Paedris don Salva de la Murta called him through the spirit world. As Shomas fought a wave of dizziness and pitched forward to splash face down in the stream, he considered that old rascal Paedris never contacted him that way unless the timing was bad.

  “Lord Feany!” Captain Raddick screamed an alarm in sheer panic, rushing heedlessly back into the stream toward the unconscious wizard, though the two soldiers who accompanied Shomas had already acted to pull the man’s face above the water. “Is he alive?” Raddick asked fearfully just before Shomas spit out a mouthful of frigid water. His question answered, Raddick helped the two soldiers carry the wizard onto dry land. “Get him out of these wet outer clothes,” Raddick ordered. “And get a fire going, he must not fall into shock.”

  “Captain,” a soldier named Thomas hesitated, for the Royal Army troop was making their way carefully through the lowlands north of the Taradoran border, and for the past three days had been struggling to stay ahead of a fast-moving orc invasion. “Dare we risk a fire here?”

  “Better to risk being seen, than to risk our wizard falling ill or dying because we were afraid to act. I will trust you, Thomas, to make a fire that burns hot and clean.”

  Thomas nodded though he had doubts about making a fire without smoke, that required very dry fuel and as it had rained the past two nights, all the fallen wood in the forest was at least damp. “We will do our best, Captain. Liv! Help me-”

  “No,” Shomas wheezed. “No fire, not on my account. It is too risky, and I would rather be chilled than chopped in half by a filthy orc battleaxe. Help me up, Captain,” Shomas grasped the man’s shoulder, “walking around will warm me quicker than any fire could.”

  Raddick called over other soldiers to prop the wizard up while he walked in circles, breathing deeply and rubbing his hands together. With dry pants, a thick shirt and a woolen blanket wrapped around him, Shomas was soon ready to resume walking.

  “Are you sure, master wizard?” Raddick questioned. He knew the wizard was sensitive about not being as fit as the soldiers, though the man was able to walk farther and faster every day since they had been forced to leave their horses behind. “The terrain ahead is steep,” he gestured to the foothills they had begun to climb, “and becomes rocky above the treeline. If you were to faint again-”

  “Blast it, Captain, I am not a woman whose corset is too tight,” Shomas’ face was red and not only from exertion. “I did not faint, I received a damnably unexpected message from Paedris in the middle of the stream! The message startled me, any communication through the spirit world can overwhelm the senses if you are not prepared for it, and, I became dizzy for a moment. Dizziness, not fainting,” he insisted while wagging a finger for emphasis.

  “Yes, Lord Feany,” Raddick concentrated on keeping his lips straight lest his inner mirth betray him. “A message, through the spirits?” In his experience, while in the wilderness away from the royal telegraph system, wizards sent messages via various types of birds.

  “A message, it is,” Shomas searched for the best way to explain the deep, subtle magic to an ordinary person. “Paedris projected his consciousness, into mine, by traveling through the spirit world. We do not use that method often, or lightly. Only for messages of great importance, in times of great need.”

  “Oh,” Raddick nodded to indicate an understanding he did not actually possess. “May I ask, does the message concern me, or is this wizard business?”

  “It concerns us all, and concern is the key word, Captain. There is good news, I should tell you that first. Gather ‘round, everyone,” he raised his voice. “I don’t want to repeat myself, I need every breath to climb this confounded mountain.” When the full army troop was close enough for him to be heard without shouting, he related what Paedris had told him: the Royal Army had won a great victory at the Gates of the Mountains, wiping out almost the entire invasion force. Elements of the Royal Army were chasing enemy stragglers back across the River Fasse, or hunting down and killing the enemy within Tarador’s borders.

  Hearing the news cheered those soldiers with Shomas and he was glad of it. The army troop was there to assist and protect Shomas on his errand to find Koren Bladewell, their lives were at risk because of him. At times, Shomas felt guilt that he lacked the ability to throw fireballs like other wizards, though he knew his ability as a healer was unmatched. If he could wield magical fire, he could have taken care of himself in the wilderness rather than relying on soldiers. When Captain Raddick had informed him a massive host of orcs had invaded the dwarf homeland and was sweeping unchecked through the lowlands north of Tarador’s border, Shomas had feared their vital mission would become impossible. Raddick asked what Shomas wished to do and the wizard had replied what he wished to do and what he needed to do were two different things. Onward was the only choice; the orcs being bold enough to risk a full invasion was proof that Tarador needed Koren returned to Linden as soon as possible.

  New of the smashing victory at the Gates of the Mountains was cause for celebration by the soldiers, although as they were hiking up foothills toward the forbidding mountains in front of them, the celebration was confined to people taking extra sips of water from their flasks, giving the wizard congratulatory claps on the back, and offering small sweets they had secreted away in their packs. The back pats made Shomas wince, so enthusiastically were they given, and he refused most offered sweets as he knew such luxuries were coveted. He refused most sweets, not all, as not even a well-disciplined master wizard could resist honey-soaked dates and bits of chocolate. Chocolate! Walking farther into the wilderness with every step, Shomas justified eating chocolates as his last opportunity for a taste of civilization.

  When the brief celebration was over, Raddick ordered the troop to again disperse, sending scouts out on all four sides, seeking as easier route forward and wary of ambush by roving bands of orcs. A discrete hand signal by Raddick told his men their captain wished to speak privately with the wizard. “Lord Feany,” Raddick began quietly, “you said ‘there is good news’. That implies there is also bad news. Please, tell me.” Raddick could not imagine what bad news Lord Salva had sent to Shomas. The enemy had crossed the Fasse twice, with General Magrane counterattacking to throw the first force back across the river, and Paedris himself pulling down the great stones of the mountain Gates to crush the even second, even larger invasion force. Tarador was victorious, the enemy in disarray, and winter was coming. The peaks of the mountains to the north of Raddick were already capped with snow, surely all the Royal Army needed was to hold the enemy on the other side of the Fasse, and use winter to rebuild strength?
By Spring, thousands of soldiers promised by the Indus Empire would arrive and Tarador could stand tall and strong against the army of Acedor.

  “You might wish I had not told you, but you do need to know, Captain,” Shomas warned the man. “Paedris fears the victory at the Gates only means the enemy will strike soon, rather than waiting for next Spring.” He explained the court wizard’s reasoning. “You see then, that it is all the more urgent we find Koren Bladewell. Paedris fears that without Koren, we are lost, and we have no time.”

  Raddick’s face was white despite the exertion of climbing up the trail. “It would be best for us to keep this between ourselves,” he glanced around to assure none of his men were within earshot. “Such an omen of doom would be a blow to morale.”

  “It certainly is not making me feel confident in our future, Captain,” Shomas agreed gloomily.

  Raddick walked without speaking for several minutes, scanning the horizon to the north. To the east and south, an orc host rampaged through the land. To the west, not all that far, lay the border of Acedor. And to the north lay the rugged, inhospitable mountains the dwarves called home. They would find Koren there, or not find him at all. Raddick feared to ask his next question, yet felt compelled to know the truth. “Is there hope for us?”

  Shomas did not answer immediately. “Yes. Paedris has seen the vast hosts of men and orcs poised to cross the river, and he despairs for the enemy’s numbers are unstoppable.” Shomas took a drink of water and wiped the sweat from his brow. Only a short time ago he was shivering with cold, now he was soaked with sweat. He wished nature could make up its mind. “We have wizards on our side, but we cannot match strength with strength through magic.”

  Raddick had to smile at the irony. “You said we do have hope, master wizard? Yet you speak of an army that can crush Tarador, and their overwhelming strength in magical power?”

  “Oh, um, yes,” Shomas bit his lip. “Sorry about that. We do have hope, but such hope comes not from General Magrane, nor our Regent, or even Lord Salva and all the wizard fire our side can summon. The hope I speak of comes from Cecil, er, Lord Mwazo.”

  “The loremaster?” Raddick recalled with skepticism.

  “Lord Mwazo is a powerful wizard, Captain,” Shomas’ tone reflected his continued irritation with people who thought the strength of wizards was measured only in terms of fireballs. “In many ways, Mwazo is the greatest of us all. That is in Lord Salva’s estimation,” he added, lest Raddick think Shomas was too defensive about wizards who could not mow down ranks of the enemy with magical fire.

  “Forgive me, Lord Feany,” Raddick bowed slightly, lower than he intended as he stumbled over a tree root.

  “As you mentioned, Mwazo is our expert on lore, and in that capacity, he does not believe it is mere coincidence that Koren Bladewell is coming into his abilities at this time, this exact moment when the power of our demon enemy threatens to crush us all.”

  Raddick winced at the wizard’s casual comment about Koren’s abilities. When they set out from Linden, only Raddick and Lord Feany knew about Koren’s secret, but along the way, it had become impossible to stop Shomas from mentioning the secret openly, and now all the soldiers with them knew their mission was to recover a missing wizard. “The spirits have brought him to us?” He guessed hopefully.

  “I would not say that,” Shomas cautioned. “The spirits do not help as you think of the term; our concerns mean nothing to them and all of history passes in the blink of an eye to the spirit world.”

  “Is the boy’s power truly so great?”

  Shomas shuddered despite being overheated from struggling up the hill. He recalled staring into the abyss when he, Paedris, Wing and Cecil had tested the nature of Koren’s magical ability. “You cannot imagine the boy’s power, Captain. I could not imagine it before I saw it, I had no idea it was possible for one person to command such power. I didn’t realize such power existed! Lord Salva told us he felt the same, he was astonished and frightened, by the power that boy can command. Captain, when Koren Bladewell grows into his full strength and is able to control it, if he can control such immense forces, he could crush the demon as you could step on a bug, and seal the rent between this world and the underworld that feeds the demon. Yet, if the demon were to capture the boy, our enemy could seize Koren’s power and unleash a demon army upon the world.”

  “Would it not be most prudent,” Raddick lowered his voice even further, “for us to kill the boy and be done with it? You say as long as he lives, the enemy may find a way to use his power.”

  “Kill Koren? An innocent boy who has done nothing wrong? Have we not harmed him enough?”

  “You think my words cold, yet I think of myself as coldly realistic, Lord Feany. My duty is to protect a nation, and, if you are to be believed,” Raddick added as a hint he found the entire situation difficult to believe, “protect the entire world. The life of one boy is little compared to that of a world.”

  “Captain, that is why I would never have made a good soldier; I cannot separate my sense of right from my sense of duty. I will lay your fears to rest. If Koren were to die, that would remove an immediate threat to Tarador, but only delay the inevitable end. The enemy has the strength to crush your army-”

  “The princess, our Regent, has attracted promises of additional troops from our allies, not only soldiers but also ships, supplies and other aid. With Ariana as our leader, our allies have new hope. And they see the fall of Tarador would be the beginning of the end for all nations.”

  “Your princess is impressive, she is a clever girl. Unfortunately, we wizards have seen the enemy’s full strength and we know that Acedor will overrun Tarador, despite the assistance of your allies. Koren’s death would be trading a quick death by fire for a slower death that is just as certain. It is true that Koren is a potential threat, but the boy is a weapon, and a weapon can be used against you, or in your defense. Our only hope for survival, for true victory, lies with that boy.”

  “But, if it comes to him being captured by the enemy,” Raddick pressed the point.

  “Yes!” Shomas shot an unfriendly look at the Royal Army captain. “Yes, if it comes to that, you must carry out your orders, or we will all perish in fire. That is a last resort, only if the situation is truly desperate and you see no way to recover him from the enemy. Do you understand me, Captain? By killing that boy, you seal our fate just as surely as if you handed Koren to the demon on a platter.”

  “I see,” Raddick shuddered also. “Well, then, we best find the boy soon. Are you feeling up to climbing yonder mountain?” Raddick pointed to a peak of gray stone that was tinted faintly orange in the late afternoon sun.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You could ask the spirits to guide us along a gentler route,” Raddick teased.

  Shomas groaned at the thought of climbing another, even higher and steeper mountain, “The spirits can,” and he said a very bad thing that set Raddick to laughing.

  Lord Mwazo unrolled the map onto the folding table in the wizards’ tent, using dirty tea mugs and a sword to hold it flat. The situation was less than ideal; the portable table was not steady on the uneven ground, one of its legs was broken and had been inexpertly repaired, and Cecil was irritated that one of the mugs almost slid off the table, so he had to-

  The table was not the problem, he admitted to himself. He was still tired, so deeply weary he slept most days away in the bouncing, lurching wagon as it traveled slowly down the rough roads toward Tarador’s capital city. He was still bone-weary from the effort of clouding the minds of enemy commanders, making them think the Kaltzen Pass was lightly defended and so luring their army to destruction at the Gates of the Mountain. And then lending his remaining strength to Paedris, so that powerful wizard could pull down the twin rock formations of the Gates, trapping the enemy and burying many of them under tons of rock.

  Nearly a week had gone by since Grand General Magrane’s forces finished mopping up the last resisting pockets o
f the enemy army near the pass. Magrane now had his troops, and those of Duchess Rochambeau, driving the enemy westward across Demarche province, forcing the army of Acedor to choose between the steel blades and arrows of the Royal Army and the cold rushing water of the River Fasse. Many of the enemy had already chosen to risk the river and drowned, swept away downstream after jumping off the high bluffs. Three times, the enemy army on the west side of the river attempted to cross in two different places, and all three times they had been thrown back by Magrane’s hard-pressed but victorious army. Lord Mwazo knew Magrane would eventually lose the fight and the enemy would gain another foothold on Tarador’s side of the Fasse; the size of the enemy force was overwhelming and the utmost effort by Magrane’s brave soldiers could not hold forever.

  “Paedris,” Cecil called in a soft voice, “we should go now. Do not say I am yet too weak to travel,” he held up a finger to forestall the other wizard’s protests. “I grow stronger every day, but the enemy’s confusion lessens faster than I gain strength. If we are to cross the river and go west, we should do it now, while the enemy is still in disarray.”

  “Now is an excellent time, Cecil. An excellent time for you to drink that herbal tea I see you hid under your chair.”

  Mwazo made a sour face. “It tastes terrible, Paedris.”

  “That foul tea is your recipe, if you recall,” Paedris retorted with a wink. “And you made me drink gallons of it when I last was sorely injured. It is good for you.”

  “I know,” Mwazo grunted, reaching under the chair for the now-cold mug of awful tea. It even smelled bad.

  “Go on, drink it. Don’t sip it, that only prolongs the unpleasantness.”

  “Fine,” Mwazo did not wish to argue, even more than he wished not to drink the tea. Tilting his head back, he swallowed the bitter and oily liquid in one gulp, then reached for the stoneware mug held out by Paedris. Gratefully, he took a mouthful of sweet lemonade, swirling around in his mouth to wash away the foul taste of tea. “Thank you. Now, could you show me where you plan to cross the river?” All the options looked bad to Mwazo. Places that were easy to cross were, naturally, well garrisoned by the enemy. Places where the enemy’s watch was thin had fast-running rapids in the river, or high bluffs on the west side, or both. Beyond the river, much of the countryside was inhospitable, having been turned into a no-man’s land by Acedor over the centuries. Tree cover was thin, water in the streams was contaminated and undrinkable, the ground grew thick with poisonous, itching plants and brambles with sharp thorns. It would be slow going at best, even for wizards. As they could not swim horses across the Fasse, they would be walking until they could steal suitable horses, and hope those beasts of the enemy were healthy enough for a long journey toward the enemy’s lair. Just thinking about trudging across the grim landscape of Acedor made Cecil weary; it would be a long and arduous journey without joy, without comfort. And ultimately, without hope for himself and Paedris.