The scout returned a few hours later looking stoic. "They say they are accepting no visitors—or refugees."
"Let's see what they have to say for themselves after we march an army up to their doorstep."
Dante sent one of his undead flies ahead to grab a look for himself. The fort was very new—almost certainly thrown together as a defense against the lich—and was mostly made of dirt and lumber. Not that it would matter even if it was solid stone. A few men were posted on the walls, but most of the eighty-odd soldiers were sitting about playing dice or telling stories.
The day was getting long, but he didn't really like the idea of camping his troop on the side of the mountains overnight, both because it might look hostile and for the extra time it would give the Galladese to prepare a response. Bitter winds swirled about them as they pressed up the path. Dante was beset by the sudden fear that this had all been a mistake, that they should have stayed in Narashtovik or made straight for Bressel and the portal they knew was there. He was still dwelling on this as they rode past a spur of rock and the fort swung into view.
Two things were clear at a glance: first, that it had been slapped together in a matter of days. And second, that it would have done nothing to slow down the lich. It wouldn't stop Dante, either, let alone his full retinue of priests and armsmen, yet the Galladese showed good spirit as they scrambled to the earthen ramparts to either side of the iron gate that blocked the road.
"Hello!" Dante called to them, swelling his voice with good cheer. "I am Dante Galand, High Priest of Narashtovik. And I come to you seeking aid."
"We know who you are," replied a man in orange and green colors and a conical iron cap. "And we told you to turn around from this place."
"Unfortunately, we can't do that. If we go home, we'll starve."
"Then don't go home. But Gallador is closed to outsiders."
"All of it?"
The man nodded, the gesture accented by the long feather on his cap. "Every single province, town, and guild-hold."
This wrongfooted Dante rather sharply. Instead of being ruled by the layers of an aristocracy united under a single monarch, authority within the Rift was distributed widely among various guilds, cartels, and merchant families. This generally served the Rift very well, since it allowed the various economic zones and entities to pursue their own unique interests, but it also meant that it was easy to play different parties off against each other, or to simply dangle a purse fat enough to convince someone to bend or break the rules for you.
That's what Dante had intended to do, or worst-case at one of the other passes to the south. But if they were all united in keeping the gates closed to outsiders, then someone was about to be made very unhappy.
"Why is Gallador closed to us?" he tried. "After all our two peoples have done for each other, you can't possibly think we'd betray you."
"It is closed to friend and foe alike. Whatever dark forces caused you to flee your own land are the same reason that ours is forbidden to you."
"You're having troubles as well? What's been happening here?"
"It's none of your business," the gatekeeper retorted. He made a shooing motion. He was young for an officer, barely more than a boy, and Dante found himself irritated by the gesture. "Now be on your way. You won't want to be caught by nightfall at these heights."
"You called them 'dark forces.' But do you know what's causing them?"
"No one does. Some say it is a curse laid upon us with the dying breath of the White Lich."
Dante shook his head. "You're right about the curse. But it wasn't put on us by the lich. It was put on us by Taim."
The captain blinked. "Taim? Why would he want to curse us? Why would he even do this?"
"Because he didn't want us to defeat the lich. We had something of a disagreement on that front. Whatever Taim is doing to you now is only going to get worse and worse. We're going to go put a stop to that—but I have to get my people to safety first."
"Why precisely does that require Gallador's help?"
"We don't have the food to make it through the winter. My priests can use their powers to grow more crops, but our land is too harsh for that right now. We need to make use of your mild climate and fertile soil."
The captain pursed his mouth, then shook his head. "With things as they are, not even Wending itself could support so many of you."
"We're not asking for you to host us in your cities. We'll camp on a hillside and stay to ourselves. I guarantee you that Lord Lolligan will vouch for us."
The youth hesitated, glancing to one of the men to his left.
"What's the matter?" Blays said. "Don't have the authority to make a decision? Then go and get us someone who does."
He flushed, glaring down from the rampart. "Why speak in such a way to someone you ask a great favor from?"
"Because I'm cold and hungry and tired. But once I've had some fire and food and sleep, I'm going to take a jaunt over to the realm of the gods and have an earnest discussion with them about how much I'd appreciate it if they'd stop trying to eradicate us."
With a whipping motion, Blays drew the gem-capped rod from his belt and snapped the Spear of Stars out. The guards atop the wall shielded their eyes against the brilliant white light flaring from the weapon. Blays stamped its butt against the road, sending a tremor through the fort, knocking clods of dirt loose from its walls.
All of the guards cringed back in awe. The young captain was among the first to recover, the weapon's light reflecting from his eyes. "That's the spear, isn't it? You're the one that slew the lich."
"I had a little help," Blays said. "But yeah, it was mostly me."
"Will you swear to remain in the portion of land assigned to you? To stay to yourselves, and cause us no trouble? And to abide by any other orders given to you by the lords of the Rifts?"
"As long as those orders won't harm my people," Dante said.
"And if there is a dispute on that matter that cannot be resolved, you agree that you'll depart for other shelters?"
"Agreed."
The captain shot a glance to the side, as if expecting to be overruled by someone lurking in the shadows, then gave a sharp nod. "Don't make me regret this."
He ordered his men to open the gates. They lifted the bars and swung them wide. As wide as they went, anyway: this part of the pass was hardly sixty feet across, and the gates no more than twenty. Dante wasn't sure they'd all be through before sunset.
He entered first. The garrison had their weapons sheathed, but they were all watching the procession intently. Dante drew a bit of nether to himself, concealing it within his hands.
"You talk too much," Blays said. He'd put the spear away and was standing with his arms crossed. "You should have learned by now that if you want to get people to do what you want, sometimes you have to wave a big glowing staff in their face."
Dante spent the wait trying to reach Naran via loon, but the captain wasn't responding. Hopefully because he was asleep and not because of storms, krakens, or the Houkkalli monks having a mental break after losing their patience with the endless stream of pilgrims seeking their knowledge. Dante was very much hoping Naran would turn up the location of another doorway much closer to them. If they had to spend the next three weeks riding all the way back to Bressel, he wasn't sure there'd be anything left to save by the time they got there.
Naran had made landfall a few days ago, and had been trying to track down a specific monk the last time they'd spoken. Exactly what the monk might know had been vague, but if things broke the right way, it was possible they'd—
A man began to scream.
Dante jerked up his head. "Oh no."
The garrison swarmed toward the source of trouble. Past the gates, a man had fallen in the road, kicking his heels against the ground. The once-tight crowd rushed back to give him a wide berth. Two priests dashed toward him, already drawing the nether out of his body.
The captain strode toward Dante. "What is happening? Is that
man ill?"
"It could be a seizure." Dante's mouth had gone dry. There was still a chance, if they could stop the strands before they spilled forth into sight of the garrison. "My priests are highly trained. They'll heal him. We should keep the people moving, there's no need for gawkers."
The young man nodded, rocking forward on his feet as if to go deal out some new orders. He stopped himself, glancing at Dante from an angle. Dante called for his people to resume crossing through the gates.
They obeyed. The man on the ground had stopped spasming around and was now merely twitching. The priests stood directly above him, reeling the nether from him like a spinning wheel. Dante wanted to tell them to cover the man's upper body in a shadowsphere, but the captain was still standing alertly beside him.
The man arched his back, then fell limp, eyes closed. Dante said a silent prayer to Arawn. But he wasn't fast enough, or fate had already been cast. The man's head lolled to the side, spilling writhing green strands across the ground.
The captain cried out, mouth agape. He whirled on Dante. "This man is diseased—and you are sneaking a plague into our lands!"
5
"That man is sick," Dante said. "But it's not a true plague. It can't be spread by—"
"Enough!" The captain's voice shrilled upward. "You knew this traveled among you and you said nothing! Not a single one of you will enter Gallador!"
"We fully intend to abide by our agreement, and won't get anywhere near the citizens of Gallador. Now stand aside."
"Men!"
Around them, the soldiers of the Rift drew blades with steely whispers. Dante's soldiers did the same in response, but he lifted his arm, commanding them to hold.
"Captain," he said, keeping his voice level. "You are about to do something very unwise."
The man lifted his jaw. "It is unwise to protect our people from sickness, and the liars that bear it? Be gone!"
"Or what?"
The answer hung in the air. The captain moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. "Find out, if you like."
Dante rubbed his temple. "Don't be ridiculous. We both know I could kill every one of you myself. So we could do that, and then I could march my people inside and do whatever I want to this place. Or you can accept that we're in exceptional times, then send for Lolligan so we can smooth out a deal acceptable to both sides."
"A deal." The captain worked the word around his mouth like a grain of rock he was trying to spit out. His soldiers still had their swords lifted and ready, but some of their faces were much stonier than they'd been moments before. "What kind of deal can be reached when you are threatening to annihilate me?"
"A pretty fair one, considering I haven't just done that already." Dante glanced over at the sick man who'd started all this. "Look, he's not even going to die. The condition afflicting him is going to come to Gallador whether you let us inside or not. We can tell you what they are and how to fight them."
The light hardened in his eyes. He looked down, then cursed under his breath. "Soldiers! Lower your weapons. Let them through."
"See what I mean? There's nothing a few threats can't get done." Blays stuck the rod of the spear back in his belt. "Everyone's sure a bit on edge right now, aren't they?"
"And these are our allies," Dante muttered. "Let's hope we don't cross paths with our enemies any time soon."
The captain's name was Halbank, and he watched with great suspicion as the citizens of Narashtovik filed through his gate. Dante had a hard time not pacing, just waiting for another round of screams to sabotage the whole thing. But though the full dark of night had come down upon them by the time they were all through, no one else cried out.
In deference to their hosts, they marched a mile away from the fort and got off the road before making camp. They were up in the cold of the heights and people made fires as they could.
"I've heard stories about you," Halbank said. He'd escorted them, along with a small retinue of his men, and didn't seem happy about it. Possibly because his presence wasn't entirely voluntary. "I'm starting to think that most of them are true."
"Don't be so sure," Dante said. "Blays probably started half of them himself."
"What's the plan here, anyway?" Blays flipped a twig into the fire. "We're not really going to just sit on our thumbs until Lolligan can get here, are we?"
Halbank squawked. "But that was our agreement! Have you no constancy?"
"When the mood strikes me."
"For the gods' sake, if we were going to betray you, you'd already be dead," Dante said. "But it doesn't make sense to send for Lolligan. We should head to him ourselves."
"I suppose it would cut the time in half."
"Or more. You remember how these people are about schedules and meetings. I also remember there being quite a collection of libraries in Wending."
"Aha. So all we have to do is lure Taim into one of them, then burn the whole thing down."
"I am suggesting we might be able to find out where other doorways are. After all, if there was one in Bressel, there could be one in Wending."
"That is a most hopeful supposition," Gladdic said.
"It's on the way to Mallon anyway. If neither us nor Naran turns up anything closer, we'll head to Bressel instead." He nodded to Halbank. "You can be our guide to Wending."
The young man scowled. "I can't be seen cooperating with you. You're not supposed to be here to begin with."
"Easy solution," Blays said. "Just tell them we took you hostage."
"You did take me hostage!"
"Well, then it was all meant to be!"
They spent the next morning descending to less chilly elevations; Halbank offered grudging advice as to what part of the hillside might be best for their needs while keeping them out of the way of the locals. The spot he thought was best was in the opposite direction from Wending, though, and Dante turned over leadership of the citizenry to Nak.
"This again?" Nak said. "You know, I never aspired to do more than reading old books in my monk's cell. I'm afraid the weight of the crown's about to put a bend in my neck."
"You shepherded them away from the lich as well as I could have," Dante said. "This time you don't have to do anything besides sit still."
"Unless something more goes wrong."
This was true, and Dante knew that it would. There was nothing he could do but clasp Nak by the shoulder and wish him fortune and faith.
They rode down from the hills toward the shimmering lake below, the northernmost of the large waterways pooled within the Rift. They had many miles to Wending, but the boat awaiting them would cut the travel time to as little as a pair of days, depending on the winds. Winden traveled with them, careguarding the dreamflowers that would, if they were very lucky, allow them to travel to the Mists of Wending, and from there to the Realm of Nine Kings.
"They're going to have me hanged for this," Halbank said. "I just know it."
"Never been hanged before?" Blays stretched his arms above his head. "The first is always the worst. But after the third or fourth time you get noosed, you get used to it."
"Are you being quite serious?"
"Don't listen to him," Dante said. "He's only been hanged once."
"Are you being serious?"
Gladdic was staring at Halbank with a furrowed brow. "You are young for your rank."
"Many of our officers fell to the hordes of the lich. Additionally, the ruling houses drew up a larger military than anything we've ever fielded. Many were promoted from necessity."
"Do you believe yourself unworthy of the position assigned to you?"
The captain shot him a quick glance. "I've done my duties well enough, I should think."
"Everything and everyone is now put to the test. This is but the beginning. Falter now, and you will perish along with everyone who depends on you."
As if to punctuate his words, the ground gave a rumble beneath them. But it passed in a blink, and Dante saw no trace of its source.
It had been warme
r since the moment they'd crossed through the pass, and as they lost elevation, the fields of snow retracted to those patches protected throughout the day by the shadows. By early afternoon, the road brought them to the town of Calden, a lakeside settlement full of docks, fishing boats, and swift trade vessels. As in the much larger Wending, it included a number of small islands where the wealthiest families made their homes and ran their business.
Blays visored his eyes. "Why are all the boats docked?"
"Because of the sea monsters," Halbank said.
"Sea monsters? I suppose they must be extra cranky if they had to settle for a lake instead."
"Hang on, you're serious, Captain?" Dante said. "You never had any such things before. When did they start to appear?"
"A fortnight ago. No one understood where they came from, but it's now clear that they're a curse of the gods, much like your plague."
"It isn't our plague. Just how big are these 'sea monsters'?"
"Big enough to keep all the boats at their piers."
"My island, it has always faced monsters of the deep," Winden said. "I wonder what fiends attack it now."
Dante kept an eye on the lake as they made their way through the town, but the waters appeared perfectly untroubled. The town was as charming as all the rest in Gallador, with flaring, curved eaves on the houses, while the streets were paved with dazzlingly vivid stones taken from the salt pools in the hills, the colors more bright and many than those of the rainbows that often appeared on the slopes of the Rift.
There was little joy to be seen in the streets, though. The few people out and about either shot the newcomers a quick glance and then looked pointedly away, or kept their gazes fixed on Dante and the others as Halbank brought them down to the waterfront.
Boats bobbed gently among the smell of fresh water. A handful of people were aboard their ships, taking the enforced break from taking them out sailing to clean them or paint them or twiddle with the rigging. No one looked like they had any interest in casting off, though, and Dante had the suspicion Halbank was about to commandeer something.
The Twelve Plagues (The Cycle of Galand Book 7) Page 5
