Killing a wizard was no simple matter. They could die as easily as any man, but getting to them, especially by magical means, was a tricky thing. Sorial was inexperienced but he would be wary. Ariel had warned him that if he went through with the transformation, she would destroy him - another foolish misstep on her part. Far better to get him to lower his guard and believe he would be welcomed unconditionally into a society of wizards then ambush him at the right moment.
Ariel was one of the smartest women he knew, but she was capable of making catastrophically bad decisions. He understood the root of it: her older brother, the would-be wizard, had died because Justin preceded him to a portal by two years. Two boys with an affinity for fire…but Justin had gotten there first. Ariel had long ago reasoned this out and, on some level, she blamed him and it was wont to cloud her judgment. She didn’t trust him when it came to Sorial. And this was the misbegotten result.
“Have you forgiven me?” Her voice came from behind him, sibilant as the wind. She had a habit of sneaking up on people like that. It could be unnerving, especially since he was alone in his command tent and the flap was in front of him. Doors rarely seemed to be a problem for Ariel. She could go anywhere the wind could.
He turned to face her. As always, she wore long, dark robes with a cowl to hide her features. He knew she donned a mask as well. Once, in an unguarded moment, he had seen her face and he could understand why she hid it - a scarred and horrific ruin, eaten away not only by her sacrifice at the portal but by years of magic use. She hadn’t husbanded her resources as carefully as he had. The beauty was mostly gone, but the lingering shadows of it both intrigued and saddened him. It was the promise of a life that might have been had she not given herself to her magic. Now, however, she was a consort to air, and air didn’t care what she looked like. Vanity wasn’t a productive characteristic for a wizard although history recorded many who had wasted their talents on retaining their form and features even as the use of those selfsame powers wasted them away.
“Your rash actions have set back my plans by seasons, if not years.” The words were unnecessary; she knew this. But they had to be said. He hadn’t spoken to her since angrily denouncing her following her confession - something made necessary by the undeniable evidence that The Lord of Earth had come into his power.
“I know. I’ll find him and eliminate him as I should have done when it became clear he wouldn’t change his course. This is my error. I’ll correct it.” Her voice was heavy, betraying a depth of emotion that surprised Justin. She wouldn’t admit affection for Sorial, but he knew it was there. She had watched the boy from afar for more than a decade. How could she not have come to care about him? Ariel might claim she would kill him but Justin didn’t know if she could do it and, if she succeeded, what emotional scars it might leave. But even if he did it himself, he would need her help.
“Ariel, we’re partners in this. We have a common goal. You can’t hide things from me, especially when they’re this important.”
They were as good as married, albeit without a physical relationship. They squabbled like any couple but, in the end, their affection for one another brought them back together. Sex would never be an issue between them. Justin’s price at the portal had been to yield his manhood. He had been gelded, leaving no appetite for the pleasures shared by men and women in the darkness. Ariel wasn’t a virgin but she had taken no lovers since they had met and any desire to do so had dried up. They were well-matched, at least for now - committed to the same plan, at least insofar as Ariel understood it. Justin hadn’t revealed the deeper layer. He was unsure of what it entailed himself. The world then the Otherverse.
“Rectifying the situation with your brother becomes a priority, but we can’t allow it to undermine our overall objective. If anything, the timing must be accelerated. We’re going to have to start treating the war as an imminent event, not some nebulous future thing.”
“Justin, I know you coddle these ‘recruits,’ but we have to step up identifying likely candidates for water. Thus far, there is no Lord of Water, but when one emerges, we want to make sure he’s one of ours.”
The Lord of Fire nodded. She was right about that, but none of those Justin had tagged with an affinity for water was promising, and they were all too young. If Sorial was removed, there was an option for earth, but water was a different matter. He wasn’t sure why. To prevent a rogue Lord of Water from emerging, an option was to watch the portals but there were three of those and only two of them. To have Ariel shuttle back and forth between Havenham and Ibitsal would deprive him of her scouting skills. Sorial’s transformation had made a muddle of his plans. He’d have to rethink everything.
When Justin had devised his campaign to unite humanity and achieve balance, he had done so with little expectation of needing Earth or Water to complete the task as long as they didn’t oppose him. Sorial, if established as Vantok’s defender as was surely Ferguson’s objective, would stand directly in Justin’s path and that was as big an obstacle as he could envision. Sorial’s youth gave him access to greater reserves of power than either Justin or Ariel could tap. They might exceed him by an order of magnitude in skill but sometimes, when it came to battles, raw power could trump experience. Because of the uncertainty inherent in any magical duel, Justin would feel more confident paying an assassin to plunge a dagger into Sorial’s heart. Accomplishing that, however, required access, and gaining access necessitated that Sorial’s location be known. At the moment, he was in hiding. Understandable but frustrating to someone trying to rid the world of his presence.
“At this point, I’m less worried about The Lord of Water than I am about The Lord of Earth. One is a reality; the other is a future concern. There’s not much I can do from here and this is where I must remain, at least for the moment.” This is where it would all begin - the gathering of the army, the recruitment of Justin’s “special allies”, and the start of the march north.
“Are you going to summon them?”
By them, Justin knew she was referring to the djinn, the elemental creatures of myth whose existence had been confirmed to Justin many years ago. There were tales of fire wizards roasted alive for summoning djinn, but Justin believed there was a way to do it with a modicum of safety. It required a delicacy of touch but, as creatures primarily of the flame, they should serve The Lord of Fire. Nevertheless, he had delayed attempting a summoning because of a fear of what could happen if he was wrong.
“The time will come soon, once other preparations are made.”
“It’s too bad there are no dragons. Are you sure they’re all dead?”
“If any live, they’re beyond my reach. They are creatures of a bygone age and, unlike many so-called ‘monsters’ that continue to exist in places where men don’t venture, the dragons seem to be extinct. The last credible sighting was more than a thousand years ago. Malbranche is said to have devoted half his life to the search for one without finding it. I think we can dispense with the hope that I can ride into battle on the back of one of those mighty, fire-belching beasts.”
“And what of your other... experiment? Are you ready to try?”
“As soon as I find a worthy subject. I want this to be a public demonstration.” It was a simple thing but one that could prove to be an excruciatingly painful and potentially effective tool. Thus far, Justin had tried it only on animals, but there was no reason it shouldn’t be successful on men. All he needed was a small sample of the intended victim’s blood, no more than a few drops, and he could kill without touching by burning the man from inside out. It could be an excellent way to keep his troops in line; a healthy dose of fear was always useful when dealing with large groups of men. Justin had once heard it said that men would fight harder for a leader they loved than one they feared. He wasn’t certain he believed that. In the end, it was irrelevant. All that mattered was that they would fight. And kill. And die.
In Justin’s view, humanity couldn’t be united without massive bloodshed. His
troops were prepared for what must be done. He had planned this campaign for more than a decade, ever since he and Ariel had met. She was the catalyst who had crystallized his unformed plans - ideas born from years studying under Ferguson then the seemingly endless nights after his transformation spent in musty libraries. It was a good thing that, as the third son of a duke in Basingham, he had been taught to read. Without that skill, his life would have taken a different path. He likely would have burned himself out in an orgy of hedonistic pleasure - a lightning flash like so many of history’s unremembered wizards.
“I want more heat this year,” said Justin, referring to the joint project he and Ariel had begun five years ago, a massive heat bubble that had settled over Vantok. Justin provided the fuel and Ariel used her mastery of air to disperse it in the pattern most devastating to the city. Every year, Justin stoked his fires higher and the effort took a toll on him. This year - the final year - he would double the effort. The result would be crippling and hopefully reduce the city to a point where resistance would be minimal. He recognized that, if he faced the full might of Vantok’s militia at the levels Ariel had reported, his army would be outnumbered. But there were ways for a small force to defeat a larger one. The heat wave was one weapon - one of many.
“It will be taxing.” Ariel voiced this concern every year, but he never listened. She had been against this protracted form of attack from the beginning. There was no doubting its effectiveness but, considering the amount of magic it required, there were other, more dramatic actions that could have been taken. Ultimately, a storm of fiery hailstones would have been less draining.
“The more we kill by drought, plague, and famine, the fewer there will be to face our army. What we do at Vantok must be absolute in its devastation. That battle must be shown as an object lesson to the other cities. Devastation at Vantok will ultimately save lives since Basingham and Earlford will then surrender more easily.”
“Not Obis.”
“No,” agreed Justin. “Not Obis. Like Vantok, that city will take effort to conquer. Syre is soft; they’ll raise the white flag as soon as they see an army massing at their gates. Obis will fight to the last man. I’ll want a Lord of Earth at my side when we stand outside King Rangarak’s walls and threaten to bring his city to ruin and put his subjects to the sword. Once Obis is gone, Andel will have no choice but to capitulate. Vantok is the key to the south; Obis is the key to the North. Fell those cities and the rest will follow.”
“They are about to be joined in marriage.” Ariel had previously informed Justin of that bit of information, but this seemed an appropriate time to remind him of it.
“What of it? The geographical difficulty of bringing support from Obis makes the alliance irrelevant. I’d be far more concerned if Azarak was marrying a princess of Basingham. Attacking Vantok with an heir of Obis as queen doesn’t mean we’ll face Rangarak’s might in the South. He wouldn’t be fool enough to send more than a token force on such an arduous journey into an uncertain situation.”
“It represents an opportunity.”
“Indeed?”
“King Rangarak will undoubtedly be traveling to Vantok for the wedding along with a sizeable contingent of men - far more than a conventional honor guard. If he was to meet his demise while visiting, hostility could erupt between the men of Vantok and those of Obis. I’m sure you can see the benefits of that as easily as I can.”
“You have a plan?”
“I do.” Ariel’s smile was hidden beneath her mask and cowl. She had given this much thought. Perhaps it would redeem her foolish handling of the situation with her brother.
Later, after Ariel had departed for a scouting expedition to the north, which would include stops at both the Havenham and Ibitsal portals, Justin began a routine inspection of the camp. Thus far, he had three-thousand able-bodied men, many of whom were too old to be effective in conventional combat roles, although Justin couldn’t afford to turn them away. Even if he swelled his army by half, he would still have fewer men than Vantok. A few djinn could make up the difference but Justin couldn’t afford to be involved in a prolonged contest. Not only did he need to crush Vantok, but he had to do it without losing a significant portion of his army. This was only the beginning of the war. He was counting on bolstering his forces with defecting militias from Basingham and Earlford, but that presupposed they were cowed by the results of the Battle of Vantok. Justin counted on magic providing the edge, but that edge would be blunted if Sorial wasn’t dealt with beforehand.
As Justin wandered the loosely organized, sprawling site where the diverse group of men who comprised his army were bunking and training, he noted how silent and wary they became as he approached and passed. That was as it should be: fearful respect for their leader. His hand-picked generals, two of whom were recruited from Obis, were in the process of transforming these nomads and city exiles into a respectable fighting force. But he needed more men. The time had come to begin hiring mercenaries. The Bloody Blades, a group of seasoned fighters who roamed the realms to the south of The Forbidden Lands, could be bought but they were expensive. At one gold apiece, it would take a king’s ransom to hire all 200 in the company, but it might be a necessary expenditure. And Justin didn’t lack for funds. Ariel could steal whatever was needed.
There was also the question of admitting women to the fighting ranks, a position Ariel advocated. There were women in camp now but their duties were to service the men, cook, and keep things as clean as possible. At last count, there were about 100 of these whores - one for each 30 men. Still, when she spoke of adding women to the force, Ariel wasn’t referring to those who fulfilled their obligations on their backs. She believed there were women who could fight as well or better than some of the men, especially the older ones, and it was foolish to exclude them because of their sex. At one point, Justin had been against this but when the army didn’t grow as expansively as expected, his resolve began to wither.
He stopped abruptly and looked around with a disapproving expression. There was something wrong. The atmosphere of the camp was too... relaxed. There was too much freedom, and freedom bred laxity. As capable as many of these men were with their weapons, they needed to learn to fight as a unit. The lack of discipline was disturbing. Locating one of the Obis generals, Justin stalked toward the man. Recognizing the storm clouds gathering around their leader, men scampered out of his path.
“General Urgo,” began Justin, his tone deceptively placid. “Why are these men lounging around instead of drilling?”
Urgo, whose toothless face broke into a smile upon seeing Justin approach, seemed unprepared for the question. “Sir... I...”
Justin didn’t wait for a response; whatever excuse the man concocted was irrelevant. He was being well-paid to do a job that was only half finished. “Beginning today, General, I want to see these men drilling. This is an army and it must begin to act and train like one. We’re going to war and I want this force to be stronger and harder than the one we’ll be facing. If the men wish to continue to be watered and fed, they’ll perform their duties. Anyone loitering or not giving maximum effort will be subject to summary execution.”
Urgo blanched. Whatever words he had expected to hear from his commander, they didn’t match the ones that were spoken.
“See to it, General.” Justin didn’t wait to hear the man’s parting comment; he turned smartly on his heels and headed back toward the command tent.
The heat would continue to sap Vantok’s strength. His army would be ready. The djinn would be tamed. And the threat represented by Sorial would be neutralized. War was coming and there was much to do.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE MAW OF THE CRAGS
Nine days in this inn, pleasant and accommodating as it might be, was more than enough. Alicia yearned to resume the journey, but Vagrum urged caution and patience. Soon, however, their thinning purses would make the decision for them. They had departed Vantok with only a small sum of money - Vagrum’s life’s savings - and
The Gateway Inn was eating away at those limited funds at an alarming rate. The self-proclaimed “first and last great resting place of the South” charged rates that would make Warburm envious. To be fair, their rooms were cleaner and more spacious, their ales and beers weren’t watered down, and they doubled as a brothel for lonely travelers.
If Alicia was looking for an optimistic slant to their prolonged delay/stay, it was that they had apparently shaken their shadow. Since the night they had arrived at the dilapidated rest-stop 30 miles down the southern road, there had been no sign of pursuit. That nameless “inn” was open to customers although it offered little more than a welcoming fire in a single, crumbling common room and an innkeeper who, like the building, had seen better days. He had grumbled about having nothing to feed them and no reasonable place for them to bunk down, but for the courtesy of throwing a few extra logs on the fire, he had demanded a couple of bronze studs from each of them. Alicia couldn’t decide whether she had been more comfortable sleeping out-of-doors or lying on the rotting timbers of the common room floor. But with the threat of hunters on their scent, such meager accommodations had been welcome.
No one had come for them that night. The next day, as the weather worsened, there had been no sign of anyone else on or near the roadway except the increasing flow of travelers headed north and south. They had reached The Gateway Inn by nightfall and had been there ever since, watching the skies spill endless cold rain and debating the wisdom of venturing into Widow’s Pass with the weather as variable as it was. Reports argued that passage through the mountains was still possible. Widow’s Pass had been closed two weeks ago following a heavy snowfall but warmer temperatures had allowed much of that to melt. Regardless, passable conditions didn’t mean a journey was advisable; travel into the mountains was described variously as “difficult” and “treacherous.”
The Curse in the Gift (The Last Whisper of the Gods Book 2) Page 5
