by Greg Curtis
“Besides, the others said that they didn't want to fight. That they were constantly attacked by the soldiers. And they were just defending themselves.”
“A likely story!” Lady Marda snapped and stamped her foot on an expensive looking rug. “Next you'll be telling us it was the little people who did it!”
“No Lady Marda, I think it was the beast. It confused minds, distracting everyone from what was happening.”
“The beast!” She shook her head slowly. “This thing we have to kill. And how do we do that?”
Hendrick almost took a step back in surprise when she asked that. “I don't think we do Lady Marda. I don't think we can.”
“Defeat? Cowardice?” The Lady accused him instantly. Determined to destroy whatever good reputation he might have earned himself lately.
“Truth Lady Marda. This beast brought an active volcano to our world. That is power beyond anything I have ever heard of. All the afflicted put together could not manage such a feat. And according to Val –.”
“That would be your funny looking friend?” Lady Marda interrupted.
“Valendacious Di Molena of the Third Chord, sage and historian of Permian,” Hendrick immediately defended his friend. “He's told me that in all the histories of all the known worlds, no people have ever defeated a behemoth. No realm, no people, no world. I have asked him to speak with the most learned of historians on his world and visit the most hallowed of repositories, to see if he can find some answers for us. But he is not hopeful. He says that whenever a behemoth has started stirring in the depths, the only answer has been to leave and wait. In time they return to sleep.” Hendrick stared at the Lady and knew immediately that she wasn't happy with his answer. But it was the truth.
“And yet it plays strategy. Divide and conquer. Discredit your enemies and steal the morale from his people. Why would a beast of such immense power need to play such games unless it has a need?” Hendrick's mother pondered out loud. “Unless it is not such a beast.”
Hendrick didn't answer her. He couldn't. And who knew? Maybe she was right. Maybe whatever had arrived in Styrion Might wasn't a behemoth after all? Still, it had brought a volcano with it across the worlds! That was far too powerful for them to fight.
“Unless My Lady, it is simply playing a game with us. Toying with us as a cat toys with a mouse.” One of the generals spoke up. “After all, we still do not know why it came here nor why it did what it did to Lady Sana. Perhaps it is simply evil and its only purpose was to cause great suffering.”
The general – Hendrick didn't know his name, only that his uniform of red and gold was covered with a lot of buttons and badges – could be right. It was hard to guess anything about the beast's motives.
“Or perhaps it is angry. Maybe we have harmed it in some way.” Lady Simone offered her own suggestion.
“My Lady, the beast is from another world. How could we possibly have harmed it?” The general bowed immediately he said it, as if apologising for contradicting her. And it did seem to upset her a little.
“And you Hendrick, do you not agree with me?” Lady Simone turned to him.
“With respect Lady Simone, I cannot see how we could have upset this beast. It is not from our world. But I wish it was so. Then we could perhaps reason with it. But we don't even know if it can be reasoned with. Only that it has struck at us without warning. And that it is evil. I cannot speak for Lady Sana, but to place some sort of creature in a young woman – or girl as she must then have been– is too horrible to imagine. It is the act of something that truly has no regard for us. It must be sent away. Back to whatever underworld it came from. Do you not agree?”
“Oh.” Lady Simone's head fell a little, as if she sorrowed for the beast. But she didn't try to deny his words.
“It does not matter Simone!” Lady Marda snapped at her. She had obviously had enough of where the conversation was going. “Truly some days I think your head is filled only with Vitanna's mist and clothes!”
“All that matters is that this thing has come to our world, killed our people and destroyed our city. It has harmed our husband. Attacked the King. For this there can be only one response. It must be killed!”
“And you,” she stared straight at Hendrick, “must kill it.”
Hendrick bowed to her, not trusting himself to say anything. Because there was nothing he could say that would not sound like cowardice or defeat to her. She had already said as much. And yet how could he even begin to attack a beast like it? How much wine had she drunk to even think he could?
Eventually he came up with something of an answer.
“I will speak with the other afflicted. Perhaps together we will be able to come up with some idea. Unfortunately I suspect most will not want to help, even if they could find a way. They have been shunned and abused for most of their lives simply for their markings. Many have been locked up and worse. Most recently they have been attacked and killed by the King's own soldiers in their red and gold. Their loyalty is not to the King. Only to their own survival and their families. They have no reason to risk their lives for him. And do not forget that they are not soldiers.”
“But you are a Mountforth and afflicted. You can talk to them. And they will listen.” Hendrick's mother finally joined in the conversation. “Sana tried to have you killed, suggesting that you posed a risk to the beast, however small. This is surely that risk.”
“I will try Mother.” He nodded his agreement. But he didn't have any great hopes of success. In fact, those of his kind he suspected who didn't simply laugh at him, would run away.
“Perhaps if we got them some uniforms?!” Lady Simone suddenly spoke up again and everyone turned to stare at her in disbelief.
“By the gods woman! You really are addled!” Lady Marda gave up on any semblance of politeness as she almost shouted at her. “Now be quiet and leave the discussions to the adults!”
“And you!” She focussed her attention on Hendrick once more. “You will do this. You will speak with the others and come up with a plan. And you will find a way to defeat this beast. You may tell the others that there will be a payment of stynes and perhaps some relaxing of certain laws that have made their lives difficult. On this you may be assured that I speak for the King.”
“Of course Lady Marda.” Hendrick bowed low. He had been given a royal command and he could not refuse it. “I will leave at once to start work.”
But as he left the tent and walked back to where his own fire burned brightly, the only thing he could think was that he couldn't possibly do what was asked of him. No one could. Maybe the offer of stynes would be accepted by some of his kind? Not that he knew how much coin was being offered. He doubted though that many would be interested. The offer of having some of the strictures placed on the afflicted removed might tempt a few more. But with no details given and little trust in the King’s word, the afflicted were unlikely to take up the cause.
But even if they'd offered the world and every afflicted man and woman there was had taken up the offer, he knew that they still could not fight the beast and win. It was simply too powerful. They would be killed. So who would be dim witted enough to accept the offer?
Somehow he doubted that the offer of uniforms was going to help!
Chapter Fourteen
The afflicted were not a unified group. They were a rabble of desperate, frightened and confused strangers. That was Hendrick's thought as he sat among them. Among his own kind. And his mother believed that it was his place to somehow bring them together as a group? He doubted he could do any such thing with these people. He doubted anyone could. It had taken days just to get them to meet! And now that he had given them Lady Marda's words, all they wanted to do was argue – nay – shout at one another.
Looking around the giant circle of afflicted sitting on the grass with him, Hendrick thought he'd never seen a more divided group. And these hundred or so souls were those who had fought and won the war in Styrion Might. They had been through battl
es together. Lived and died as one. If any of the afflicted should have been united in some way it should have been them. And yet they weren't.
Of course these hundred and some souls weren't all of the afflicted from the city. They were only a tiny fraction of them. Just as the caravan they were a part of now was only a third the size of the one it had been. The best part of a million souls had been in the caravan when they had first fled the city. And of course that had been after days of people already leaving the city. But when they had finally descended from the foothills of Styrion Might through the valley road and reached the crossroads, it had split into three. One group heading north, another south while the balance continued on east to Styrion Hold. And even of those heading on to Styrion Hold, this group represented only a fraction. Many of the afflicted were too far ahead to even know of the meeting. When everyone else had started leaving the city, so too had they.
The people before him were of both sexes and of all ages and most occupations. They came from every town and city in the realm, and were in all shapes and sizes. Their afflictions or gifts were different and it was likely that no two of them even shared the same spells. More importantly they disagreed on what the next step should be. Some wanted to run. A few wanted to fight. Some still wanted to start a rebellion. Others just wanted to go home. There was no common goal.
Listening to them argue, Hendrick was beginning to understand why the exodus from Styrion Might had been so chaotic when he had arrived. Why there had been no clear push to make people leave. Not all had wanted that. It was simply that a few had, a few hadn't, and most had had no idea what to do.
And now they were supposed to come together and somehow fight a monster that could transport a volcano between worlds? He very much doubted they could have fought a pussy cat! They simply had no common purpose to unite them. In fact the only thing they seemed to have in common was a deep desire to disagree with everyone else. There was no leader. And despite his mother's beliefs, he could not become their leader. It simply wasn't who he was. They only listened to him at all because he had been in the right place at the right time with the right spells. And because he was the King's son. But that wasn't enough.
Of them all Tyrollan seemed to be the closest thing they had to a leader. He was calm and measured in what he said. He thought about his actions before he took them. And he had a manner that impressed. But he was also wounded, having been shot in the battle for the city. And for many of them, he was too quiet. They were scared. Uncertain of what was happening. They needed someone with passion to tell them what to do. Tyrollan was the leader you wanted when things were going well. Not when the sky was falling.
And then there was Marnie, Tyrollan’s right hand. She had answers, though none were good. She had passion – but it was mostly anger. And while people listened to her, he worried about where she would lead them.
And yet they badly needed a leader. Because they most assuredly needed to stand together as one to face whatever was coming. Especially if they were to become the heart of the forces that were to stand against the beast as his mother seemed to believe they needed to.
She was still claiming that, four days after their retreat from Styrion Might. Flight was still a better term in his view. And despite the fact that absolutely nothing had happened since then, she was even more strident in her views. Some days she almost seemed to shout them at the gathering crowds.
The King was less strident in his calls. But he was still injured. He could ride, stand and walk now. Or at least so Hendrick had been told. But he was not yet able to rally the crowds to his cause. And the rest of the royal household was silent. Conspicuously so. He guessed that that was politics as his mother claimed. They had just lost the capitol. The King had wed one of the enemy and been attacked. He had been humiliated on every level. If the behemoth had wanted to strike a blow against Styrion, it could not have struck a more damaging one.
The people were also quiet for the moment, though he suspected that was mostly the result of shock. They were probably also too worried about the day to day matters of survival and wondering how they would cope in new towns. But he guessed his mother was right that in time the calls would come for the King to step down.
When that happened Hendrick had no idea what would follow. He doubted it would be good though.
“And what do you think Prince Hendrick?” Emmerton, an afflicted blacksmith with a great Infernium marking that ran all the way from his fingertips to his cheek, turned to Hendrick, startling him out of his ruminations. The blacksmith seemed to have assumed the leadership of the meeting if not the group. Probably because he had a booming voice and no one else wanted the role. “What should we do?”
“It's just Hendrick. I'm afflicted, just like you.” He held up his arm to show them his markings once more. He was forever doing that. “And it seems we have no good choices. Just choices we can try to make the best of.”
“We can run away and hide. Go home and try to pretend that this never happened. And maybe ride out the storm that follows. The King will try to defend us. He will state that the city was not attacked by the afflicted, but by this behemoth.” Hendrick knew he would do that because the kingdom could not fight two wars at once. Especially not a war with the afflicted if they truly did have the power to battle the beast. His mother and the other wives would carefully explain that to him.
“But it will take time for those announcements to get out and not everyone will believe it. Too many witnessed the battle for the city. And the King has lost a lot of the people's faith. There is only so much he can do.”
“Those of our people living in the towns and cities who know nothing of what has happened here, will still have to weather the storm of hatred and anger until word of the great beast reaches them. It will be bloody. Tarius bless us all, there is no alternative. But with luck it will pass.”
“But if we do decide to run and hide then our value to the King in fighting the beast fades. Why should he support us if we do not support him? His protection will go only so far. Enough that it will stop a war between our kind and the others. No more. We will still be churls and outcasts. And we still don't know what the beast will do. When and how he'll attack. Even if we chose not to fight, the fight may still come to us. We could leave ourselves vulnerable to attack.”
“On the other hand, if we stand and fight, we could simply be killed more quickly. We don't know what we'll face. We know we can't face the beast. No one can. But if Val is right we may have to face the beast's servants. Or not. We just don't know. Nor do we know if we are strong enough to fight them.
But if we are to fight then we have to become stronger. Doing so carries its own risks. How do we do it? Do we summon as many of our people as we can? Should we become an army? Should we call upon only those of us who can fight, and risk leaving behind those who might have the spells we need? Or should we ask the women, the elderly and children to stand and fight, most of whom have never seen a battle before?”
“And who leads us to this battle? How do we fight? We aren't soldiers. I mean, I brew ale!”
And that he thought, was the heart of the problem. His spells could well make him one of the most useful of the afflicted in a battle as he had proven. But he was still no soldier.
“But you don't have to!” Marnie interrupted, and everyone turned to her, hoping she had something useful to say. “You can do more than brew ale. We all can. We can claim our rightful places.”
“Rightful places?” Hendrick had to ask even though he feared the answer when he saw the look in her eyes. He was beginning to think that she had more problems than just a talent for spouting muck. She was angry – he understood that. But he wasn't sure she was completely rational.
“As respected spell-casters. We are valuable people in this world. We should not be treated as outcasts. We are blessed by Ri Altenne. We belong in Altanis!”
“Huh?” Hendrick's eyes opened wide in surprise as he heard something he had never expected to
hear. Certainly not here and now. Ri Altenne's home? The ancient city of magic? Where the afflicted hadn't been the afflicted but wizards. Legend said they had been great and mighty spell-casters who hadn't been limited in the spells they could cast.
“Altanis is a myth, like unicorns and little people!” someone immediately objected. Others agreed and a sudden chorus of denial ran around the circle.
But Marnie wasn't going to be denied. Not now that she had finally given voice to her madness. “Maybe so. Maybe no. But even if it never existed, that doesn't mean it can't one day! That we can't bring it into being!”
She shouldn't have said that. Hendrick knew that even before the rest of the group burst into argument. Recreating a myth? Asking the afflicted to become something they weren't? Not just soldiers but wizards? It was too much. It was asking a humble stone mason to build a tower to the heavens. A physician to cure death. And while he understood where her passion was coming from, he also understood that it simply wasn't who they were. They were afflicted. They survived by being quiet. Those who got noticed, suffered.
