Heretic (The Sanctuary Series Book 7)

by Robert J. Crane

  “I can verify that Allyn Frost of the Northlands is as Terian says,” Cattrine said, nodding. “I’ve had dealings with him on trade negotiations. He’s not unreasonable, but he does have an immense ego, perhaps one of the largest I’ve seen outside of my former husband or …” She glanced at Cyrus.

  Cyrus frowned and clanked his gauntlet against the hanging chains across his chest as he pointed at himself. “Me?”

  “He’s an older man,” Cattrine said, glazing quickly over that. “He’s losing his hair and, as near as I can tell, does everything he can to hide it, though it’s rather obvious.”

  “I’m not vain,” Cyrus said, frowning. “I mean, I don’t have an ego—”

  “But of course not,” J’anda said soothingly. “What was it you said to the trolls when you invaded their town? Something dramatic and not very humble, I recall. And then there was something about a boasting given to the dark knights at Livlosdald who rode ahead of their armies? And—”

  “I do not—” Cyrus looked at Vara, who was rolling her eyes. “I don’t, do I?”

  “Of course you do, dear,” Vara said. “There’s a thin line between immense self-confidence and ego, and you stand astride it like a titan and cross handily over every time you forcefully remind those who you are about to kill of all those whom you have struck down before them. I can’t say your confidence isn’t somewhat deserved, though it is also curiously thin at times, vanishing like a dark elf’s self-respect at the opportunity to whore around—”

  Terian frowned. “Not all of us are whores. Some of us merely do the partaking.” His eyes flashed around the circle. “I mean, I don’t anymore … but, you know. Before.”

  “Taking us back to the subject at hand …” J’anda said. “So the potential weaknesses in the Human Confederation boil down to divisions of state and, much like the ones in the Elven Kingdom, fracture along territorial lines. How curiously predictable.”

  “Look at it from their perspective—which is really analogous to my small state’s perspective,” Cattrine said. “We are nominally part of the Elven Kingdom and ruled by Danay, but have almost no elves among our populace and are subject to a monarch who likely would have flooded us with troops last year after his daughter’s death merely to assert his control. Now, you could argue that he runs roughshod over us because we are mostly humans, settled in his lands, but we are also one of the most-taxed provinces because of the enormous amount of production that comes out of our territory, and we have no voice in his court, he does not build roads or protect us with his troops … essentially we pay him for existing.” She looked around the small group. “And so it is with the other provinces—though they receive some protection from the military, especially in the north from the trolls and in Termina from the dark elves. But they also commit their own local troops to these causes, and so they are left to question: what does the monarch do for me? Because they certainly send wagons of gold in tribute to the palace in Pharesia. And in places like the Emerald Coast, they have not seen a soldier within their borders since the days of the troll war.”

  “Well, we also get that most excellent caste system that acts as a virtual prison for every person in the Kingdom outside of Termina and now, Emerald Fields,” Vara said acidly. “Because surely no elf should ever desire to be more than they are.”

  Cyrus’s head was whirling. “What we’re talking about here …” He let out a low breath. “Exploiting divisions in these powers? What’s the endgame if we go this route? Prying apart the Kingdom and the Confederation? Fragmenting them into smaller states that will fight each other in nasty border wars?”

  “Provided they’re not crushing in your walls, why do you care?” Terian asked with a careful glint in his eyes.

  Cyrus gave him a leaden look. “You know damned well why I care. Because our function in Sanctuary is not to leave Arkaria torn down to its foundations.” He took a slow breath, feeling as if all the hope were slowly draining out of him. “We were supposed to help people. To save this land from dire threats, not become one ourselves.”

  Terian gazed at him sadly. “You’re really struggling with this decision, aren’t you?”

  Cyrus shrugged languidly. “Well, I’m not exactly like an arrow shot from the bow on it. More like—”

  “A drunken donkey staggering down a mountain path with a heavy burden on your back?” Terian asked.

  “So flattering,” Cyrus said, “but yes. Near enough.”

  “Cyrus,” Cattrine said softly. “You look to protect Arkaria from threats, but who started a war that killed countless of its people?”

  “Pretnam Urides,” Cyrus said, sighing. “The Council of Twelve. Danay, at least, had a hand in it. Yartraak.”

  “Well, Yartraak’s dead,” Terian said. “He won’t be starting any more wars, and neither will the Sovereignty, so long as I’m in charge.” He grinned. “Congratulations. You’ve saved Arkaria from the dreaded dark elven menace.”

  “And the goblin one,” Vara said quietly.

  “And the titan one,” J’anda said.

  “And probably the troll threat as well,” Cattrine said. “And while the Confederation and the Kingdom are certainly reeling from the last war and in no mood to start another large-scale conflict, even your cautious mind must admit that they are not hesitating to throw their weight at smaller ‘threats’—such as you.”

  “Cyrus,” Vara said, taking hold of his hand, “you were there when Pretnam Urides courted the war with the dark elves. Alaric told me of his gleeful mood when it was declared. He and his fellows thought it a chance for their glory, to expand their holdings in the Plains of Perdamun. What did they do, by their hands, by playing into Yartraak’s?” She stiffened. “Countless villages and homesteads in the plains, pillaged and destroyed. Reikonos and Termina, plundered. The Riverlands, sacked. Yartraak even had Aloakna, a city of his own expatriates, purged from the map with fire and slaughter. All that was begun with Pretnam Urides’s happy consent. And Danay was hardly blameless; he sent troops to the plains as well, and it was mere luck that we resolved the issue before he had cause to run his forces against the dark elves as well. It bought him months before he was dragged into the conflict, one he would have happily embraced were his armies not drawing down by my peoples’ aging population.”

  “And for our part,” Terian said, standing almost silently, seething anger in his expression, “the dark elves lost one half of our young men under the age of five hundred. The poor of Sovar were ground down by the war that Yartraak started but that Urides conspired to make happen. This was not a fight of the God of Darkness’s own invention; it was the imperial ambitions of powers crossed against each one another, man versus god battling for territory and control. Urides fanned those flames, and millions died on our side and the human side, and all were left ragged by its end. We’d be in the midst of a famine that would be killing the entire land if not for the timely arrival of the Luukessians in Emerald Fields.” He nodded at Cattrine.

  “Yes, well,” Cattrine said darkly, “it was an unfortunate chain of events that led us here, but those that have survived have made the most of it and are growing more prosperous, freer and happier than ever we were in Luukessia—save for that tyrant in Pharesia who wishes to keep us beneath his boot.”

  “This is all about control,” Terian said. “Whether it’s the Leagues, Danay, or Urides and the Council of Twelve, they seek to control the actions of their people, to keep some down and some up, through force of social constraints, magical laws or simple force.” He broke into a grin. “Personally, I like that you’ve driven all our enemies into such a tight cluster—Derregnault and Amarath’s Raiders,” he nodded to Vara, “Urides and his Council brethren, King Danay,” he nodded to Cattrine, “the Leagues, and …” he broke into a bigger smile, “let’s not forget Goliath, where we have Malpravus, Carrack, Orion, Rhane, my old friend Sareea … it’s almost like you’ve corralled them together and lined them up for easier slaughter.”

 
Cyrus blinked. “I don’t believe there’s going to be anything easy about trying to wipe out that list.”

  “But we’re going to do it,” Terian said, “provided you don’t lose your nerve.”

  “I’m starting to get a little clearer picture of how,” Cyrus said, “but I still don’t know if I believe it’s possible.”

  “Oh, it’s possible,” Vara said. “We just have to do to them what they’ve been doing to us all along.” A hard look fell over the paladin’s face. “Divide and conquer.”

  “Let’s just hope they don’t divide us first,” Cyrus said, his mind running to faraway lands, wondering about what was going on all around them, even as they planned their own moves. “Because I suspect Goliath and the rest aren’t just standing around, waiting to see what we do …”

  20.

  When the meeting was over, Cyrus, Vara, J’anda, Cattrine and Terian returned quietly to the portal and the waiting Bowe and Larana. Cattrine and Terian disappeared in the rushing wind of Bowe’s teleport spell while Cyrus stared at the others, considering his next action. “J’anda, Vara …” he said quietly, “return without us, will you? I need to speak with Larana for a moment.”

  Vara raised an eyebrow at that, but held her tongue from unleashing whatever was on her mind. “I will expect you back in our quarters in ten minutes,” she said instead. “We have things to discuss.”

  “Yes,” J’anda agreed with a light smile. “Many, many things. Things of various natures, of importance … the state of the Merlots for last year, for instance …”

  Vara rolled her eyes. “Brilliant cover.” She glanced at Larana. “She may be quiet, but she’s no idiot.”

  Larana’s eyelids fluttered. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “Ten minutes,” Vara said, twirling her fingers as she cast the return spell and disappeared in a twinkle of light.

  “We will discuss the wines in twenty minutes,” J’anda said with amused self-assurance, “for I doubt you will need any more time than that.” And then he disappeared as well.

  Cyrus stood on the empty savanna with Larana as a light wind blew through, stirring some of the long grass, lying at a forty-five degree angle from the ground, reminding him of the light slope of the Grand Span in Termina at its start. The grass, however, was a bridge leading nowhere, its thick mat a perfect cover for the south’s enormous animals. Cyrus was reminded of the immense cats that made this place home, bigger than horses and able to stalk quietly through the grasses. He shuddered and looked at the druid who stood with him. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute before we go back,” Cyrus said, staring off into the distance to the south. He could see the beginnings of mountains in the distance. Somewhere in that direction lies a city in ruins because of my actions.

  All my other enemies have died save for Goliath, Danay, Urides and … Archenous. Perhaps it is inevitable that this moment comes, that I’m compelled to destroy them as well.

  Perhaps … this is the only thing I’m good at.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Larana asked in her usual quiet voice.

  “I wanted to thank you for transporting us today,” Cyrus said, “and ask you again to please keep secret from absolutely everyone where we’ve gone.”

  She nodded hastily. “Of course.”

  Cyrus took a step that crunched a blade of grass as wide as his thigh. “Did your father … ever talk about my mother?” He glanced sideways at her.

  Larana stiffened and her eyes came slowly up, wide with worry. “Did you … do you know anything about her?” Her face was lined with worry, but under the dirt he could see that she looked younger even than he.

  “I know she’s Quinneria,” Cyrus said, carefully watching Larana’s reaction. She flinched as though she’d been smacked in the arm. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Yes,” she said after a moment in which she composed herself and cast her eyes downward again. “He did.”

  “I find myself in the curious position of wishing like hell I’d asked Belkan more about my parents when I had a chance,” Cyrus said, pursing his lips. “Now I’m left with more questions than answers, and few people to ask. If Cora was within easy reach, you can bet I’d be happy to interrogate the hell out of her at this point. Same goes for Alaric, and Curatio.” He looked at Larana, who stayed very still. “Alaric killed my mother, did you know that?” She nodded. “And Belkan delivered me, an orphan, from Cora—one of the founders of Sanctuary—to the Society of Arms.” Cyrus watched her carefully, and she nodded again. “Do you know why he did that? Handed me over to people who tried to kill me?”

  “Because there was no way around it, he said.” Her voice was soft and worried. “They knew about you.”

  “Who?” Cyrus asked, focusing in on her, stunned. I should have asked her this months ago, but I just assumed, that, as with my father’s sword, she knew nothing.

  “Urides,” Larana said. “The Council of Twelve? I … I don’t know. Whoever controlled things in Reikonos. They knew you existed, that you were somewhere in the city. Alaric—he feared what they would do if they caught you out of the public eye, that they would kill you for certain, no chance of intervention.”

  “Gods,” Cyrus gasped. “No one ever told me any of this.”

  “Because they would have killed you if you’d known, if you’d shown any inkling of remembering,” Larana said quietly. “Belkan … my father … told me that Alaric struck the deal that saw you handed over. That he sent someone to watch over you for a time in the Society—”

  “Erkhardt,” Cyrus said numbly. “He sent Erkhardt. I remember him now. And when I …” There was a tingle of loss, and Cyrus’s voice cracked. “When I ran away from the Society on induction day, I think Alaric brought me back.”

  “It was the only safe place for you,” Larana said, her eyes big and mournful. “Quinneria … your mother … she knew there was no escaping what was after her.” Her head drooped again. “What’s after you, now. They all came for her too, all the armies of Arkaria. Hounded her into the Plains of Perdamun, chased her until she ran across Sanctuary … and into Alaric.” She bowed her head. “He … he ended her flight. Brought her down at last. As she lay dying, she made him promise … Belkan said she died after making Alaric swear that he would ensure your safety.”

  “I don’t really remember her,” Cyrus said, voice rough, heart strangely numb. He looked into Larana’s face, streaked with ash from either the cooking fires or her own blacksmithing efforts. “I didn’t even know she was the Sorceress until someone told me a few months ago.” He cracked a grim, mirthless smile. “My mother is the most famous person in Arkaria, outside perhaps my wife, and I barely remember a thing about her.”

  “It’s probably for the better,” Larana said, eyeing him, her head still down. “If you’d remembered—anything—of who she truly was, Belkan said they would have killed you. Alaric convinced them to take the chance because you were just a child. They were scared of what you might become. He suggested the Society, played on your father’s name … and Belkan said they went for it, hoping desperately for another Rusyl Davidon … and frightened of what would happen if you ever discovered what you were capable of … What she was teaching you to be.”

  Cyrus flicked his fingers as he repeated a spell in his mind, and a small fire sprang from the tips of his gauntlets, the size of a torch’s flame only. It was a fraction of what he was capable of at this point; he’d been practicing. “I know what I’m capable of now, but still I hesitate. My power is becoming clearer to me, but the targets … the places I’d direct it … I fear to turn loose against them, in spite of knowing they mean to kill me, to skin me away from my fellows, my friends, and end me in the dark of night with nary a witness, if they could.” He looked at Larana. “You must think it strange, this … reticence on my part.”

  “You’re a good man,” Larana said quietly. “You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “Oh, but I do,” Cyrus said sadly. “I just know that afterw
ards I’ll regret it. When I came to Sanctuary, I could kill anyone. I thought. But Alaric changed me. He made me consider things beyond myself, beyond those who had attached themselves to me. And yet, the more these … outsiders … come for me, the more I’m reminded of where my home is, where I belong, and who I should be fighting for. The trust, the bonds of closeness between me and my army, of those who are still standing with me as the world turns against me …” He shook his head. “It’s as though I never even knew Alaric at all. As though all our talk of purpose has slipped away in the night, replaced by grinning, leering, angry faces of my enemies.”

  Larana hesitated. “I was … with Sanctuary before you were.” She licked her lips, seemingly afraid to speak her mind.

  “Go on,” Cyrus said.

  “I knew Alaric before you did—” Larana said.

  “I doubt it,” Cyrus said with a knowing smile.

  Larana swallowed heavily. “Well, I’ve known him for a long time. I grew up in Sanctuary. You … you remember the talk, the ideals. But … I saw more. I saw it all. You forget … when Mortus hit you … Alaric was the first to strike back. When your friend died in Enterra … Alaric went there and ravaged them, killing hundreds to save us from permanent death. And when Partus barely even threatened Vara, Alaric killed him in an instant.” Her head was the farthest up Cyrus could recall seeing it, and her voice was stronger than he ever remembered hearing it. “Alaric may have only had one eye, but he … he had two hands. One was the hand of friendship … and the other was the fist of merciless vengeance, and he used them both. He just didn’t do it selfishly.” She bowed her head again. “He didn’t start a personal vendetta after the titans killed Raifa, but when someone went after his … his family … there was nothing he would not do to see it righted.” She lowered her voice. “It’s why he came for you on the Endless Bridge.”