Will sighed, but he refused to despair. “At least I have three or four people I can trust absolutely.”
Arrogan’s reply challenged him, “Yeah, who?”
“Selene, Laina, Tiny, and probably Mark Nerrow.”
“Not me?”
“I only listed living people, but yeah, if you weren’t stuck in a ring, I’d have added you.”
“Just a year ago I was struggling with whether I should steal your body and shuffle your soul off to the afterlife,” remarked the ring dryly.
“You had circumstances that—”
“Everyone has circumstances,” interrupted Arrogan. “Just because you don’t know them, don’t imagine they don’t exist. Ordinary people don’t have to worry as much because the best solution is almost always for everyone to cooperate, but at the level you’re at, things are different.”
Will groaned. “Can we talk about something else? Something practical?”
“Sure.”
“Is there a spell or magic to allow people to converse over long distances? I know the Darrowans must have some way of coordinating because the knowledge of our last route change got to them too quickly,” said Will.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
The ring laughed. “That never gets old. You already know of one. The heart-stone enchantment allows the two souls that are connected to communicate. Also, if you were to astrally project to someone who was also astrally sensitive, they could see you and talk to you, and I already told you about the Wayfarer’s Society a while back.”
Will searched his memory, then responded, “The old wizard’s guild that maintained the teleportation beacons, right?”
“Exactly. In case you didn’t realize, instantaneous travel also means instantaneous communication.”
“Just letters or…?”
“They also had more sophisticated methods. By tying into the beacon network, they could use enchanted orbs to project people’s voices and images across the same distances.”
Will rubbed his chin. “What about using a silver plate and writing on it?”
“Never heard of anything like that,” admitted his grandfather. “I’m sure we would have used it during the original Terabinian War for Independence if we had had such a thing. Why do you mention it?”
Will described the enchanted plate he had found.
“I see what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t match anything I know,” said Arrogan. “If it’s like what the Wayfarer’s Society had, it would still need a beacon network to function, but then again, they had a lot of secrets. It’s possible this was something else they developed, or maybe someone has created a new method since then.”
He’d hoped for something solid to work with. “Let’s assume the worst,” said Will. “What do you think I should do?”
“Worst? This is an opportunity.”
Will grinned. “I was thinking the same thing.” He spent the rest of his time before bed discussing options.
Chapter 33
An urgent messenger with a missive from Commander Bradshaw reached them as they were setting out the next morning. Will unrolled the letter and examined it while sitting atop his horse.
I have ill news to report. Scholar Sundy was found dead in the afternoon. She was alone and it seems that the object she was studying released some sort of lethal trap. The enchantment inscribed upon it has melted away and the scholar died as a result of what appears to have been a small fiery explosion. It is possible there was foul play, but I have no firm evidence and no suspects currently.
Cmdr. Martin Bradshaw
“What is it?” asked Laina.
“Elizabeth Sundy is dead,” he replied flatly.
His sister’s eyes widened. “How?”
“I left her in Klendon to do some dangerous research. It appears the research was more dangerous than I suspected.”
“Danger intrinsic to the research, or do you think it was something more deliberate?”
As usual, his noble-born sister’s mind had leapt directly to the crux of the problem. “That’s the real question,” he replied.
She nudged her mare with one knee, bringing the horse closer, then spoke in a low voice, “Sometimes it’s best to act on suspicion rather than wait for facts.”
He glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. I’m sure you suspect the same pompous ass that I do.”
“I can’t afford to make an accusation without firm proof, which I don’t have. I don’t even have circumstantial evidence.”
“The traitor isn’t constrained by such things, and Scholar Sundy has paid with her life. But you don’t have to play by the rules either.” Her eyes darted toward Darla, who rode a short distance behind them. “No one would miss him if something sudden and unexpected happened to him.”
Will looked at the arkeshi for a moment, surprised Laina would suggest something so underhanded. Darla had been an assassin before becoming Laina’s bodyguard and secret lover, but as far as he knew, the arkeshi had never practiced her fatal art since leaving Faresh lands. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “You think she could do it?”
“They would know it was done on purpose, but they’d never trace it to her—or you,” affirmed Laina.
Will still remembered the shock and horror on Laina’s face the day he had slain the soldiers that the king had commanded his sister to kill. It hadn’t weighed easily on his shoulders, and it would have been even worse for her. “You’re making suggestions that your conscience isn’t capable of accepting,” he told her.
Laina jerked her head in denial. “Lustral is different. He’s scum. I wouldn’t lose much sleep over it.”
“You’re the leader of Terabinia’s largest charity. This seems a bit out of character.”
Her eyes were hard. “I try to help those who need it. I didn’t get the position by being afraid to dirty my hands.”
Will wondered just how much he really understood about Laina. In the beginning, he had thought her simply spoiled, then he’d learned of her charitable works and realized he hadn’t truly seen her. Now he was learning that even that wasn’t the final layer. She’s got more layers than an onion, he thought wryly. Try to peel them all away and she’ll make you cry. “Have you ever had to give an order like this before?” he asked seriously.
She hesitated. “No, not like this precisely. But I’ve had to deal with rough men before.”
“If you’re ever tempted again, come talk to me,” he told her. “This isn’t something you want lying in the back of your mind. Trust me.”
Laina’s lips tightened into an incongruously girlish pout, considering the dark deed she had just suggested. “Then what do you intend to do?”
“I’ll wait for evidence.”
“People will die while you wait. A traitor at that level could cost you half the army or worse,” she warned.
“That isn’t all I’ll be doing.”
“Are you going to share your plan?” Her eyes were intent and challenging. Laina didn’t enjoy being kept in the dark any better than his subordinates did.
Will pulled off his glove and reached toward her with his right hand. “Not here, not out loud, but if you want to know…” He left the rest unspoken, but she understood immediately. The last time they had made direct contact she had felt the draw. Their souls had been fused for a short time the previous year, and now both of them were left with a constant feeling of incompleteness. A small touch and an even smaller effort of will and they would begin to fuse again, enabling them to share their thoughts.
She started to reach for his hand before abruptly putting her hand firmly down against her riding trousers. “That’s probably not a good idea,” she said reluctantly.
“Sorry, you’re right.” Will felt guilty immediately, for he had known it was a bad idea. He had let his own impulse get the better of him. “You’ll just have to trust me for now,” he told
her bluntly.
The rest of the day passed without incident. That afternoon, First began setting up camp while the following divisions trickled in behind them and Will began reviewing the reports from the advance scouts who were already beginning to return. They’d found no sign of any significant enemy force in the region, although there were definitely smaller units still moving about.
Will ate with some of the senior officers from First and Second, then retired early to catch up on his personal practice as well as to have time to do a brief bit of astral spying. He didn’t learn anything new, so he went to sleep at a reasonable hour, grateful for a chance to catch up on his sleep.
He was destined for disappointment.
Will woke in darkness to the sound of something sharp cutting through tent canvas nearby. Adrenaline shot through him, and as he started to sit up, he heard a grunt and a sharp release of breath, as though someone had taken a hard blow to the stomach. There was no time for armor, but Will summoned his falchion to hand while simultaneously readjusting his vision to see in the dim gloom.
His first brief vision was of something moving incredibly fast, something with claws. Jerking back, he fell over his cot with an undignified yelp and might well have died then, when a second figure leapt through the hole he could now see gaping in the side of the tent. Scrambling across the ground, Will tried to disentangle himself from the remnants of his bed while the second figure fought with the first.
It had taken a second, but Will’s brain finally began to unscramble what he was seeing. A vampire was in the tent with him, and the smaller figure fighting it was probably that of Darla, Laina’s arkeshi bodyguard. The fiend was hissing and spitting as the arkeshi’s silver-inlaid blades left smoking wounds, but it hadn’t taken serious damage.
Will had seen the woman hold her own against the Drak’shar in the past, but only with careful preparation. The current battleground heavily favored the blood-drinker’s enhanced senses and speed. The fiend whirled, and Will shivered at the sound of its claws ripping through Darla’s nightshirt and the skin beneath it. It was a sickening, wet, tearing noise that no one could forget. The blow also carried considerable force, for Darla’s body went crashing through the tent wall behind her, bringing down one of the poles holding everything up.
Canvas drifted down and Will’s mind registered that in a moment he would be trapped in the equivalent of a cloth bag with a superhuman monster and no way of seeing. Fortunately, his mind and body were at last ready to respond to what was happening.
As the canvas drifted down, almost to their heads, he shouted, “Hey!” There hadn’t really been a purpose to the shout, but as the monster turned, he sent a force-lance at it and the space its head had previously occupied became a red mist of exploding skull and brain tissue. That wasn’t enough to dispatch one of the Drak’shar, but Will figured it was a good start. At the very least it could be considered an extreme inconvenience. Summoning a silver clima, Will cast the silver-sword spell, and his falchion lit up with argent flames.
The spell generally made any blade deadly sharp, painfully bright, and it was particularly devastating against vampires, which was why the ancient wizard Ethelgren had originally created it. It was also handy when used to cut away falling canvas so as to prevent becoming shrouded in one’s rapidly disassembled temporary shelter.
His head emerged into the night air as he cut his way free, then Will turned and used the flaming sword to permanently dispatch the thrashing canvas lump that represented the headless vampire’s body.
It also set his tent on fire but given the general lack of illumination, Will decided to take that as a bonus. Casting his gaze back and forth, he quickly located Darla, who was already on her feet and returning, though with a noticeable catch in her stride. Shouts were going up around them and lanterns were being lit, but Will focused on the arkeshi first. “Are you all right?” With a thought, he summoned a blood-cleanse potion and one of his precious regeneration potions.
She waved them away, then showed him an already empty vial. “I’ve been prepared for something like this since last year.”
Will recognized the vial as one of those he had sold to Wurthaven in bulk back when he’d been trying to save himself from debtor’s prison, then his eyes went to the ragged tears and dark stains on her nightdress. “A blood-cleanse potion is a good start, but you need healing as well or you won’t be able to protect anyone tomorrow.”
The former assassin accepted the regeneration potion but did not drink it immediately. “After the sun comes up. I can sleep while we ride. For now, I can still fight if it becomes necessary.”
“Stubborn,” he said in irritation, though he knew he probably would have done the same. Then he added, “Thank you. I probably would have died if you hadn’t distracted it.”
“Them,” Darla corrected, then pointed to a dark shape a short distance away. “There were two. We need to finish the other before it heals.”
The creature in question was mostly whole, but Darla had hamstrung it, rendering its legs useless. They were clean cuts, which would ordinarily have healed almost immediately, but for the fact that silver had poisoned the wounds. The Drak’shar would heal, in time, but Will made sure it wouldn’t have that. Rather than get close enough to use his sword, he constructed a fire-blast spell he’d learned and incinerated the hissing monster.
By then, the entire camp was awake and alert. Reports were made and messengers sent to the other divisions. There hadn’t been any other attacks. The army was safe. Eventually, with two squads of men standing shoulder to shoulder around his new tent, Will was able to attempt sleep. Darla and Laina had moved their sleeping arrangements and were now in the front section of the tent.
So much for a good night’s rest, thought Will, staring up at the tentpole above his head. He tossed fitfully for a quarter of an hour and then gave up. Summoning the limnthal, he decided to discuss things with the Ring of Vile and Unspeakable Knowledge.
“Is the war over yet?” asked Arrogan.
Will sighed. “It’s still just getting started.” He spent several minutes describing the evening’s excitement.
“How did they get past your wards?”
He grimaced sourly. I knew he’d ask that. “I didn’t have any.”
“Why not?”
“They take forever to put up. Do you have any idea how many things I have to take care of every evening when we make camp? I’m lucky to have time to eat.”
“Cry me a river! It isn’t as though you’re still digging latrines. If you can’t afford to spend a couple of minutes to put up wards at night you deserve to be eaten,” snapped his grandfather.
Will gaped. “A couple of minutes?”
“Did I stutter? You told me you learned how to set up wards last semester, didn’t you?”
“I did, but it takes a lot longer than a few minutes, otherwise we’d use them around the whole camp,” explained Will.
A long moment of silence followed, then Arrogan responded, “Do I take that to mean that you aren’t putting wards around the camps at night? What keeps the enemy from slitting your throats?”
Exasperated, Will growled, “Sentries and a careful watch schedule. How in the hell do you think I’m supposed to put wards around an army? Do you have any idea how big our perimeter is? It would take me half the night just to walk it.”
“Dolt! That’s why you have all those idiot sorcerer lackeys with you. Can’t they lay down a proper ward? Wait, don’t answer that. Those fools probably couldn’t even make a light if their lives depended on it.”
That irritated Will even more. “They may not be proper wizards, but I spent months with them. They’re all capable spellcasters and I’ll thank you not to badmouth them.”
“Oh my! Papa Will’s gone sensitive over his pet sorcerers. Fine, let’s assume they’re proficient. You’ve spread them out through the companies, they should divvy up the chore and each of them should do the work for their portion of the perimeter. It doesn
’t have to be anything fancy or power intensive, just an alarm to warn the camp if a monster tries to sneak in.”
Will rubbed his face, then scratched his head. “They’d still have to do fifty yards or more each, maybe a hundred. If it takes me half an hour to ward a tent, think how long it would take to inscribe that length!”
Another pause followed, then his grandfather began again, this time in a calmer tone. “Obviously, there’s something missing in our conversation. Why don’t you describe your process for laying a ward? Maybe that will help me understand why this is such a problem for you.”
“It’s similar to constructing a spell, except much longer and you don’t discharge it at the end. You invest it with turyn and leave it in place. If anything it’s set to interact with enters the boundary created, it triggers a spell effect of some sort,” explained Will patiently.
Arrogan wasn’t satisfied, however. “Yes, but describe how you lay it out.”
With a sigh, Will did. “Just like a spell. You create the runes in sequence and…”
“Stop there. You didn’t mention an ingram.”
“What’s that?”
The ring laughed. “Something they should have mentioned at the very beginning of your class on wards. It’s sort of like a stencil, but for warding.”
“What’s a stencil?”
“Oh, right. You’ve progressed so much I sometimes forget you’re a damned ignoramus,” said Arrogan dryly. “A stencil is a cutout, usually in metal or wood that allows you to paint a specific design over and over. You lay it down and paint over it, but only the places that you’ve cut out let the paint through. That’s not the point, though. An ingram is similar, but it can be made out of a lot of different things, and obviously there’s no paint involved. For large-scale wards, the most popular choice is a long strip of cloth embroidered or painted with the runes you intend to create. The first time you have to actually create the ward in the usual fashion, overlaying runes of pure turyn that match those drawn on your ingram, but after that you can do it much more quickly.”
Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4) Page 30
