Warlord

by Robert J. Crane

  27.

  Cyrus rode atop Ehrgraz for what seemed like hours, but was probably less than one. The speed at which the dragon traveled was astonishing, and Cyrus recognized the Heia Mountains when they came upon them. They soared between snow-capped peaks, Ehrgraz keeping them lower to the ground, Cyrus expected, where the air was thick enough for him to breathe. He had been higher, once, and recalled well the thinness of the air.

  When they came out of the mountains, the foothills ended shortly, dipping into the thick, lush Jungle of Vidara and then spreading out into the long, loping Gradsden Savanna. At the far end of the jungle, Cyrus could see the glimmering of a mighty lake reflecting sunlight, and beyond that, mountain peaks even higher than the ones he’d just passed.

  Cyrus stared down at the flatlands. From up here, the grass didn’t seem nearly so high. He caught sight of one of the portals, though he wasn’t sure if it was the one they had traveled from to get to Amti. It could well have been, he reflected, looking into the distance and seeing the tall jungle canopy like mountains over the savanna.

  There was a smell of greenery now that they were closer to the ground. Ahead in the south, Cyrus could see the rise of the mountainous terrain around Kortran. The city of the titans was in a valley, and though he could not see it from here, he could see other structures before it, scattered throughout the plains …

  Cyrus blinked and leaned forward, as though that subtle adjustment would help him see more clearly what he thought he was looking at. “Son of …”

  “Yes, you see it now, don’t you?” Ehrgraz said, voice rumbling over the rush of the wind. “This is the work the titans have been doing in the last few years. This is the reason the elves of Amti have lost all their convoys of late.”

  Cyrus stared as they swooped closer, maintaining their height, far above the reach of the creatures that inhabited the structures below. All across the savanna were newly built watchtowers that stood high above the grasses, giving the titans a sweeping view of miles and miles of nearly open terrain. They were legion, these watchtowers, and built big enough to accommodate at least a half-dozen titans at each.

  And there, in the center of the savanna, was the most worrying thing of all.

  “Fortress Returron,” Ehrgraz called as he dipped a wing to carry them around the thing in the middle of it all. It was wood, Cyrus could tell that much, with a massive pike wall that reminded him of the trolls’ hometown of Gren. “The key to their entire defensive network here in the savanna. Over a thousand titans are quartered in this place, and messengers can run back and forth from even the farthest watchtowers within a matter of hours. Troops can be on the march and reach from one side of the savanna to the other within a day. None of you small people stand a chance here now, and it is their preparation of this fortress which should concern you.” Ehrgraz looked back at Cyrus. “They are even now laying in provisions for a larger army, something on the order of six months’ worth of food for a force of ten thousand, even though they only currently billet a thousand there.” He cocked his head. “Does that concern you?”

  “They’re preparing to come up through the Heia Pass in force,” Cyrus said, mouth dry. He felt the sense of falling even though he was still firmly on the back of the dragon. “They don’t feel the need to even try to be sneaky and use wizard teleports. They’re not afraid, they’re going to come right at us.”

  “As a disciple of the God of War should, don’t you agree?” Ehrgraz asked, but there was some irony in the way he said it that Cyrus did not like. “This is the first test you will face when you bring your forces against the titans. They watch the portals from a distance, and while they might not see a small group such as you took through before, they will most assuredly see coming the army that you will need in order to crush that fortress.”

  “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” Cyrus said.

  “Indeed,” Ehrgraz said. “I hope you find it useful, my attempt to cure your naiveté.”

  “You just saved my army from a hell of a failure,” Cyrus said, but now the weight was upon his shoulders and he fell into silence.

  “Come now,” Ehrgraz said, trying to stir him out of it. “This is not an insurmountable thing.”

  “No, it’s not, it’s just …” Cyrus let out a quiet, mirthless chuckle. “It’s just another thing on the pile.”

  “At least your people are willing to fight,” Ehrgraz said, “so count your blessings. I stand as chief of the army for a fearsome force that desires to see no use. Even my closest allies feel the restraint of our leaders as the titans continue to grow in strength and boldness, lashing out into our territory. The only reason our enemies go north now instead of south to us is that they know they have nothing to fear from us. I reckon they’ve grown tired of your people, and see an infinite sea of resources ripe for the plucking in your lands. They will humble your keeps, crush your cities, and feed on the bones of your kind like domesticated, flightless birds for years to come.”

  “I don’t mean to stand around and wait to be plucked,” Cyrus said tautly. “And if they think I do, they are about to receive a severe correction to that thinking.”

  Ehrgraz laughed as he carried them higher. Far below, Cyrus could see titans moving around in the fortress, like insects in an ant mound. Arrows shot toward them, falling before they came even close to the dragon. “You have a fight in you, but you are one of the few now, yes? You northerners have seen war, and now you lack the stomach to face the new threat rearing its head at you after battering at each other for such a long interval—which is not such a long interval to my people, or to your elves, or even your dark elves—but you humans, you last but a flicker of a flame, and have the attention span of these titans.”

  The words were scornful, but the only thing Cyrus took from them was another reminder about how fleeting his life was compared to Vara’s. Curious that he would intend all that as insult, but I take the sting from the thing most out of my control. “If we do this thing, the titans will be furious. They’ll take all their attention from their southern gates and put it here, on the savanna, leaving you a wide opening and us nothing to pursue once they close ranks.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Ehrgraz said. “The titans may have magic, but they are new to it and their thinking reflects that. There is a portal in the Ashen Wastelands that would give you easy access to their southern gate once it is ungirded. You have no excuses not to make this strike save your heart not being in it.”

  “Oh, we’ll fight,” Cyrus said. “The question is—what will it take to get your people to do so?”

  “Opportunity and reason,” Ehrgraz said, but it was so quiet it was almost left to the wind. “You are about to provide one of those things, and when you are done, we will talk about arranging the other.”

  “Why not just attack with us?” Cyrus asked. “You alone—”

  “I alone would be exiled for participating in your plans,” Ehrgraz said, tilting his head to look at Cyrus, quite serious. “Conspiring with you smallfolk in an attempt to bring the dragons into war? My people don’t execute our own, but they might make exception for that bit of treason.” He snorted fire out of his nose, causing Cyrus to blanch. “My other option, of course, is to stand back and watch the titans destroy you—you tiny people—and then wait for them to renew their strength and come after me and mine. This day will come, I am fully assured.”

  “You don’t think Talikartin will suddenly grow peaceable after conquering the north?” Cyrus asked with a smirk he didn’t feel.

  “The titans are tyrants, fueled by desire for war in all its forms,” Ehrgraz said, giving Cyrus a view of the back of his scaled head. “They follow Bellarum too closely, inculcated in his ways far worse than your Society of Arms could manage even with its best, most fanatic warriors. You have other gods to shape you, moderating influences on your societies. There is no moderation in Kortran, only the billowing forge of war, firing at its hottest, all the time, for a thousand years
. They drank deep from this cup of madness, and struck out at whatever was closest … until Talikartin and Razeel came along.” One of Ehrgraz’s yellow eyes narrowed as he turned his head slightly to look at Cyrus. “They are men of vision, the sort that come along only once every few generations of your short-lived folk. They are would-be gods who want to make the world over in their image. When they came into power they swept away a regime that they felt did not go far enough in following the ideals of the God of War. Imagine that for a moment, if you please.”

  Cyrus bit his tongue at any thought of defending Bellarum. “That’s … bound to be an intense … situation.”

  “Oh, come now,” Ehrgraz said, looking back at him. “Surely you can’t be thinking of speaking up in the name of your nominal god, can you? I had heard you changed.”

  Cyrus started to snap then reined it in. Oh, how you have changed me, Vara. “I’ve seen dark things in many places, and evil deeds are hardly the exclusive province of the God of War.”

  “That is a politician’s answer, not the reply of a soldier,” Ehrgraz said. “You should choose today who you wish to serve, Cyrus Davidon, because this is not a path that you will want to waver on.”

  “I don’t think I asked for you to be my priest,” Cyrus said coolly. “What I believe is entirely my business and none of yours. We have a common ally; that does not entitle you to give me religious advice.”

  “Oh, I was not giving religious advice,” Ehrgraz said as they tilted, drifting, toward the Jungle of Vidara. It loomed large ahead, the tall trees only a few hundred feet below their flight path. “I was merely suggesting that you exercise some thought and consider a different path than the one your people set you upon. Perhaps, instead, you should allow your mind to guide your feet to one that better suits you, perhaps one you were pointed to in earlier days.”

  Cyrus said nothing, working hard to keep a rising anger from bubbling out. They came lower and lower over the trees, tall boughs stretching occasionally out of the thick-woven canopy of green below. Cyrus could see vines, moss, all the things that stitched the carpet of greenery together and blocked out the sun from the ground below. “Where are we going now?” he asked.

  “Your afternoon’s education is complete,” Ehrgraz said, not turning to look at him now. “I return you to a safe place from whence you can return home.”

  “You’re going to leave me in the jungle?” Cyrus asked as they swept lower, now just fifty feet above the top of the tallest trees. “I can’t teleport home, you know that, right? And I’m of little use to you wandering the southern lands alone—”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Ehrgraz said, beating his wings and halting their forward motion in one hard sweep. Cyrus was thrown against the scaly back of the dragon, and then they hung there, hovering, the dragon merely putting forth a minimal effort to keep them aloft as they slowly began to sink toward the canopy below. “I have no wish to remove you, my new ally, from effective action. I merely wish to give you an opportunity to share your knowledge with those who might benefit from it.”

  “Those who might—” Cyrus looked over the edge of the dragon’s back and saw a peculiar sight below. The tree just underneath him was hollowed out and open to the sky above, a ramp circling the inside of the wooden bark visible from where he hovered on the back of the dragon. He looked up and caught Ehrgraz’s gaze. “You know where Amti is?”

  “I know many things,” Ehrgraz said with a toothy smile. “I know, for example, that while they have no wizards at their disposal, with their wondrous and wide-reaching teleportation spells that could carry an entire wagon, they do have two druids, which should be sufficient to bear you back to Sanctuary once your business here is concluded.”

  “Everyone has spies everywhere,” Cyrus said as Ehrgraz drifted slightly lower. He was close to the upper branches now, and Cyrus could see elves staring out him, peering from behind shoots and leaves, tiny bows drawn. He saw Gareth at the lead of them and waved to him as he started to slide down Ehrgraz’s leg. “Except me, apparently.”

  “Yes, you should work on that,” Ehrgraz said. “It is not wise to remain ignorant while your enemies and allies gather knowledge around you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Cyrus said, positioning his boot on a massive, scaly foot as Ehrgraz drifted to within ten feet of the topmost ramp. Cyrus could see Gareth watching him from just below, a tight and furious expression on his face.

  Cyrus let loose of the dragon’s leg and fell, landing a little roughly but absorbing the shock through his armor. His knees ached with the impact, but he grasped Praelior and drew to his feet, the discomfort manageable if not entirely gone.

  He looked up to see Gareth pointing the bow at him as Ehrgraz flapped his wings once and rose three hundred feet in a great gust that almost pushed Cyrus back to his knees. It knocked Gareth over just as he raised his bow to take a shot at Ehrgraz, and when he came back up, Cyrus batted his arrow aside as he released. It sailed into a nearby tree with a thunk, and Cyrus shook his head. “Don’t do that. It would be an exceedingly bad idea.”

  “You just led a dragon to our home,” Gareth said, ashen of face. Cyrus did not stop him from drawing and nocking his bow once more, which was a quick enough action that he could only have halted it with the assistance of Praelior. A half dozen rangers followed his action exactly, and Cyrus found himself staring down countless arrows, standing there atop the tree, the smell of greenery and earth all around him.

  “I didn’t—” Cyrus started but Gareth immediately cut him off.

  “Liar! You are under arrest for your traitorous action,” he said, fury pulsating through his face, causing his brow to twitch in anger, “and I will see that you suffer greatly for this betrayal.”

  28.

  “Leading the head of the dragon army to our city was not wise,” Cora said as Cyrus found himself surrounded by the council of Amti, Gareth over his shoulder with his bow still at the ready. He’d had his men remove Cyrus’s helm, but Cyrus had drawn the line at allowing Praelior to be taken. It had resulted in a tense standoff that Cora had broken by conducting them both to the council room, where Mirasa and Fredaula had joined them, the former looking ghostly scared while the latter looked almost as angry as Gareth.

  “I didn’t lead him here,” Cyrus said, exhaling his annoyance as he spoke, “as though I’m some sort of navigational genius who could miraculously pinpoint your city’s location from the air. While I appreciate the compliment, perhaps you could accept that the dragons know where you are because they can see you as they fly overhead.”

  “We should construct a roof for Tierreed,” Gareth said from behind Cyrus, rather harshly still. “I warned you it made us vulnerable—”

  “Our entire crop will die without sunlight,” Mirasa said, fighting back at Gareth with more than a little anger of her own. “How would you have us fed, then?”

  “Your farmers will need to be trained by my hunters,” Gareth said, coming out from behind Cyrus now, his arrow back in the quiver and his bow at his side, “and we’ll cease sowing—”

  “Stop,” Cora said, putting the end to their argument. “This bickering suits us ill.” She turned her eyes to Cyrus. “So they already know.”

  “At least Ehrgraz does,” Cyrus said, shrugging. “I would assume any other dragon flying over would have seen it as well, though it takes a bit of an eagle eye—sharper than mine, anyway—to discern the lone open tree.”

  Gareth cursed in elvish. “We are fools to have left ourselves so exposed.”

  “We can’t eat only meat,” Mirasa said, reddening.

  “I’m here to help you,” Cyrus said, his discordant statement ringing like a bell that brought all their heads around. “Sanctuary is going to engage in your war, and we’ve got some allies, including, perhaps, the dragons at some point in the future. For now, though, Ehrgraz has given me an idea of what we’re facing, enough to structure a first attack.”

  Cora stiffened. “So you’re going to join u
s.”

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow, the faint glow of the nearest torch causing him to see a faint green spot as he turned to look away from it. “I’m going to launch an attack on the titans. You are more than welcome to join us, if you so choose.”

  Cora regarded him coolly. “You make it sound as if you will be walking across the savanna alone to kick in their gates.”

  “I lead an army, Cora,” he said, not particularly fond of her tone. “They follow. I mean to lead them to your advantage.” He looked around. “Why are you not thrilled?”

  “This will stir the hornets,” Gareth said, looking tense, his fists balled. “Forgive us our reticence, but we fear the sting.”

  “You live under the constant threat of sting,” Cyrus said, getting to his feet and taking his helm back from where it lay on a stand by the door. “I thought you came to us about ridding yourself of it.”

  “You are the general of these matters,” Cora said, forcing a smile. “We are but merely conflicted, that is all. I’m sure your plan is for the best.” She looked at Mirasa, Fredaula and Gareth each in turn. “For it could not make things any worse, of that we can be certain.”

  “It’s going to take me a few days to put this together,” Cyrus said, looking her straight in the eyes. “Help would be appreciated, but we’ll go whether Amti contributes assistance or not.”

  “You will have as much as we can spare,” Cora said quietly.

  “Wonderful,” Cyrus said, placing his helm back upon his head. “Can you spare a druid?”

  “I can spare more than that,” Cora said, standing up and drawing her navy cloak about her. “I will escort you back to Sanctuary myself.” She looked to Mirasa. “Find Credena or Iana, will you please?”