Warburm died knowing the tyrant had preceded him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: NOT DEAD YET
Well, he wasn’t dead. At least not yet.
He wasn’t sure whether that was good news or bad news. The excruciating pain in his shoulder and upper chest was gone, replaced by a dull throb. His head also hurt, although it was the sting of an ordinary headache.
His memories of his last moments of consciousness were hazy and fragmented. He recalled having saved Myselene by pulling her into the ground then using his abilities to collapse the palace. In retrospect, he admitted that had been an excessive overreaction - a large number of innocents had died as a result, including servants and non-partisan soldiers not in the throne room. If he had been able to think and assess more rationally, his approach would have been different. The conspirators - Greeg, Otto, and Rathbone - could have been removed with precision.
After destroying the palace, he had towed Myselene to an exit point far enough away that she wouldn’t have to navigate the rubble. Following that, his string of memories ended. The still blackness of oblivion was all that remained, staring back at him as he tried to recall what had come next.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, stableboy.”
He opened his eyes to the most welcome sight he could imagine - his beautiful wife sitting in a chair by his bedside, much as she had done all those years ago in The Wayfarer’s Comfort after hired assassins had nearly ended his life.
Alicia was changed. Physically, she looked older, more mature. It was a byproduct of exposure to the energy from the Otherverse. Although a few weeks short of her seventeenth birthday, she appeared at least a decade beyond that. She might have been a twin to her Aunt Lavella. But it was more than that - her features had taken on a world-weary cast. Her eyes showed a depth and sadness not previously there. Thankfully, she seemed uninjured; their time apart hadn’t marred her the way it had him. Her smile lit up the dimness of the room, adorned its stark simplicity. The tears pooling in her eyes reflected the dim lantern light of the unfamiliar chamber.
“Every time we’re separated, I come back and you’ve lost another piece of your body. Soon there won’t be anything left.” She bent close to him and traced a gentle finger across the scarred skin of his face where Uthgarb’s acid had left its mark. She dropped the lighthearted tone. “I guess that’s what it means to be a wizard. I saw Ariel’s body. There wasn’t much left and it was ugly. Even discounting the accident that killed her, she couldn’t have lasted much longer. I don’t want to end up like that. Promise me we won’t end up like that.”
“She’s dead?”
Alicia nodded. “My fault, I’m afraid. It was self-defense.”
Sorial didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Relieved? Sad? Regretful? In truth, he was numb. His emotions regarding his sister had been conflicted since he had realized her identity. Protector one day, attacker the next. Once, she had saved him. More than once, she had tried to kill him. Now she had joined Craddock, Braddock, Maraman, and Kara. The last of his blood… gone.
“How long have I been here? And where is ‘here’?”
“You’re in The Citadel.” A glance around the unfurnished, undecorated space corroborated that. Soldiers, after all, didn’t generally believe in aesthetically pleasing trappings. Rooms were functional and if the function was to provide shelter and privacy during sleep, the only thing needed was a bed. “And you’ve been unconscious for five days. A lot has happened while you’ve been sleeping.”
“You saved me?”
She nodded. “It wasn’t easy. While forcing dirt into open wounds may have helped you dissipate the toxin on the arrow, it created other problems. By the time I was brought to you, the wound had gone septic and you were suffering from blood poisoning. If I had been even a half-day later, you would have been in the grave. Fortunately, your infirmities were things I can heal, blood and soft tissue being mostly water. Some of the diseased flesh had to be cleaned away; it was too far gone to be regenerated. I hate to be blunt, but you’ve already lost the arm so losing some of the shoulder shouldn’t be a disadvantage, although I imagine it will feel strange. And there’s some disfigurement to the neck but it’s nothing compared to what you managed to do to your face. You have to learn to be a little more careful. You may not value your skin and what’s beneath it, but I do. Imagine how you’d feel if I came back looking like you.”
It was a fair point.
“Myselene?”
“Recuperating but in better shape than you. Her injuries were superficial. Fortunately, the arrows that struck her weren’t poisoned and they weren’t aimed to kill.” She hesitated. “The baby’s fine as well. Is it…?” He could tell it was hard for her to ask the question, but he knew she needed to know the answer.
“The babe has my blood but it’s Azarak’s child.”
She nodded. Her expression was a curious mixture of satisfaction and sorrow. “We won’t speak about this again. It happened. It was necessary. But it’s over.”
“Repercussions from the collapse of the palace?”
Alicia raised one eyebrow. “I’ll say this for you, stableboy, you know how to make an impression. People are scared shitless of you. The whole populace is cowed. It’s made things easier for Myselene, though, since they view you as ‘her wizard.’ A royal hound with a vicious bite. She was able to declare herself queen without needing a coronation and has been given free rein to start preparations for Justin’s arrival, which should be in about three weeks.”
“How many people died?”
Her face was somber. “Several hundred. It’s a big palace and the entire thing came down. No one blames you, though. In fact, you’re viewed as a hero by everyone who matters, having saved the queen from those who sought to usurp her position and kill her. The vice-prelate survived and corroborated her story.
“My father is here, along with Rexall and the entire group of Ferguson’s would-be wizard candidates. More bad news, although this won’t surprise you. Ferguson has turned traitor. He’s setting himself up as the ruler of the refugees at Sussaman. He tried to have my father killed. Only a timely intervention by Rexall and his group of deserters saved his life. Myselene says you know about Gorton; his death was the pebble that started the avalanche and Ferguson was responsible for that. Poisoned him.
“What happened to you?” Her voice caught as she asked the question. She could make light of his appearance but it clearly disturbed her.
Although he was no storyteller, it took more than an hour for him to recount all that had happened since her departure. He went into exhaustive detail about his encounter with the ghosts at Ibitsal since the implications of that conversation might impact their future. The time passed quickly and they were undisturbed. Midway through his tale, Alicia slipped off her boots and lay down next to him on the wide bed. It was chilly in the room despite a healthy fire and she snuggled close, stealing and offering body warmth. He wrapped his arm around her and toyed with the fringes of her hair.
Once he was done, she reciprocated. Her narrative was longer, woven with more artistry than his straightforward chronology. She spoke of her initial terror at being alone in a strange land, her wonder at meeting the elves, and how her frustration had turned to amazement in the library. She described her encounter with Justin and finished with a detailed recounting of what had happened when Ariel and the djinn arrived.
When she was done, he summarized: “You got what you went for.”
“Always one to oversimplify, aren’t you? Yes, I learned things that can help us and, when you’re strong enough to be active, I’ll try to teach you. I can’t believe he destroyed it all.” The sense of loss in her tone was profound.
For his part, Sorial regarded Justin’s actions as regrettable but no more. The Yu’Tar Library was useful to him only second-hand. He suspected he might have been outraged if he had visited the structure or if he could read. But letters were an arcane mystery to him, their understand
ing more impenetrable than magic.
They lay together in silence for a while, listening to each other’s breathing and reveling in their mutual closeness. The long moment was interrupted by the grumbling of Sorial’s stomach. For nearly a week, his only nourishment had been broth poured down his throat.
“Uncouth as always, stableboy.” Alicia disengaged from his embrace, rose, and slipped on her boots.
She left him alone to fetch something for them both to eat. She hadn’t been gone more than a handful of minutes when Sorial heard a commotion outside the door. He struggled to a sitting position and readied himself to take action if necessary. Instead, the door opened to admit the queen of Obis. She motioned for her guards to remain without and entered alone.
Myselene moved to the side of Sorial’s bed. She walked slowly and with a slight limp, evidence that Alicia’s healing had only repaired some of the damage. Aside from some bruising on her cheek and forehead, she appeared to be in good condition. The queen’s next action surprised Sorial: she dropped to one knee beside his bed and lowered her head in a gesture of respect. She simply said, “Thank you.” It was something she would never do in public but Sorial appreciated the gesture even though it was between only the two of them.
She was sitting in the chair by his bed discussing events of the past few days when Alicia entered, accompanied by Carannan and Rexall. They all bowed to the queen then stood around chatting while Sorial wolfed down the food procured by his wife. He washed it down with a tasteless dark beer then was ready to discuss strategy and tactics and what had gone wrong with the remnants of Vantok’s militia and citizenry.
“We’ve lost Ferguson and the refugees,” said Carannan. “With Gorton out of the way, Ferguson established himself as the leader and used his powers of persuasion to subvert the people’s loyalty to the Crown. His next step is unclear; he may not even be certain of it himself. In my estimation, he’s waiting to see what happens at Obis. If Justin wins, he’ll sue for peace. If Myselene wins, he’ll ‘return to the fold,’ claiming to have stayed in Sussaman to protect a battle-weary people unprepared for another engagement.”
“Can someone remind me why I didn’t execute him when he was in my power?” asked Sorial. As far as he was concerned, this was vintage Ferguson.
“His wealth of knowledge, especially about magic and the Otherverse,” said Alicia. “I hope I’ve learned enough to make him expendable.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you have or not,” said Myselene, her eyes as hard as diamonds. “He’s committed treason and compounded the matter by murdering a chancellor and attempting to murder an overcommander. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t commute the death sentence. Ferguson’s actions have exceeded my capacity for mercy.”
“Pronouncing his guilt is one thing, Your Majesty,” said Sorial. “Carrying out the punishment will be another. For now, though, I suggest putting aside concerns about him. There are more pressing issues. What’s the latest intelligence on Justin’s position and movement?”
“That latest we’ve heard is that he’s still in Syre but will be departing within a week. We were hoping you could” - Myselene wiggled her fingers in a manner that was intended to suggest magic - “verify.”
Sorial did as requested and ascertained that Justin was in the same place as the last time he had checked. There was no way to determine whether he was preparing to move but, in the worst case, he was still two to three weeks away from bringing his engines of war to bear on Obis.
Carannan grimaced when he heard the time frame. “We’re trying to prepare for everything since we don’t know what his tactics will be. In the past, most of those attacking Obis have opted for a siege. I’ve done some reading about how previous invasions were turned back, although there hasn’t been a serious threat to the city in more than five centuries.”
“A siege won’t be his plan,” said Sorial. “He’s in a hurry and he has djinn and a dragon. A siege would demand patience and endurance and could last to the middle of the year before the city’s will broke. Justin won’t wait that long - perhaps can’t wait that long. He’ll favor a lightning strike. At Vantok, he hid the creatures until Alicia and I were lured away then unleashed them. At Obis, there ain’t no reason to conceal them. They’ll lead the attack and their primary goal will be to bring down the walls. Once that’s accomplished, it will be army against army.”
“If the walls come down, we can’t shield all the non-combatants,” said Rexall.
“Not all of them, no,” agreed Carannan. “But there are places many of them can shelter. It’s a safer option than trying a Winter evacuation. Thousands of people trapped out in the wilderness in a storm would mean thousands of corpses.”
“So we defend the city?” asked Rexall.
Carannan nodded. “The Obis army’s high command has deferred to me because of my experience fighting what they call ‘sorcery contaminated battles.’ I think most of them would be content to disbelieve the existence of wizards if Sorial’s destruction of the palace hadn’t provided an irrefutable argument in its favor.”
“Sorial and I need some time together to share what we’ve learned. From what you’ve told me, he’s come into a greater understanding of his powers than he had when I left and I learned a fair amount I think can help us. We need to formulate a magical strategy to use against Justin. He won’t have Ariel as support although, considering her fragile condition, I don’t think he was counting on her to do anything of significance. His plan is probably to stay out of combat unless things start going badly. On our side, magic will be needed not only to counter the djinn and the dragon but also to defend against Justin if he enters the fray.”
“If ain’t the right word,” said Rexall. “When is more like it. And, despite what General Carannan says, there are still too many unbelievers in this army for my liking. We’re going to need to do some convincing before Justin arrives or we’ll be faced with an unprepared army.”
“How about another demonstration?” suggested Alicia, remembering the success of Sorial’s efforts at Vantok.
“It’s hard to imagine something more forceful than bringing down a palace.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Sorial. “At the very least, it should convince the troops that we have our share of mythological firepower.”
* * *
“Well,” said Alicia, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can think of at least one part of your body that’s still working fine.”
Sorial smiled but said nothing. His fingers trailed a line from her neck to her hip, brushing the skin with a feathery touch. She shivered involuntarily. “That tickles.”
It was a break they both needed, a pause in the frenetic activity of preparing for Justin’s attack. Lying together on Sorial’s bed in the Citadel afforded them a few moments together. Since Alicia’s Maturity nearly two years ago, they had spent precious little time together and that made opportunities like this special.
“I missed this,” Alicia mused.
“The sex?”
She laughed. “The closeness. I hate when we’re apart, even when I’m with others. It never feels right.”
“I know. I hope this was the last time and from now on we can be together.”
“After this is all over, I’d like nothing more than to return to Vantok, rebuild our house, and live out the rest of our lives there. I don’t know how long we have - we’re both aging at unnatural rates and Justin looks nearly as old as Ferguson and he’s only in his 40s - but I’d like to think we can spend at least a couple of decades growing old together. And if we get bored, we can always foster a child or two.” She hesitated. “Maybe Myselene would send us the heir for a period. It’s not unusual for a royal son or daughter to spend time in a noble’s household during their formative years.”
Sorial considered whether this had been part of his wife’s plan from the beginning. He wondered if the agreement between Alicia and Myselene included conditions he didn’t know about. He wasn’t sure how he fe
lt about raising his own child without being able to acknowledge being the father. Then again, it might never happen. At this point, it was all wishful thinking.
“For Myselene, it might end with Justin. If she wins the Battle of Obis, she can take a legion and march south to Vantok. For us, there’s more, and I have the uneasy feeling it’s not going to end with us settling down and enjoying a period of domestic bliss in a rebuilding Vantok. Not if there’s something wrong in the Otherverse. Not if some corrupting force is gaining strength there.”
Alicia pondered his words. “So you believe Malbranche and Altemiak made it in. Which means there’s a pathway. So someone - Justin or you or I - could follow. I wish there had been more time to scour the library. Piles and piles of scrolls and books I never even peeked at. I learned so much but it was just the fringes of a large tapestry that now lies in ashes.”
“Any ideas? Kara said she and Braddock weren’t actually killed by the portal. Well, their bodies were but not their essences. Their non-corporeal ‘spirits’ ended up in the Otherverse but they were powerless there. Altemiak and Malbranche may have assumed control - equally balanced forces for chaos and order. They arrived as masters of the Otherverse, able to control its energy. I assume Justin’s plan is to enter, upset the balance, and take full control of both forces. If he succeeds - and I’m not sure it’s possible - he’ll have the power of a god.”
“With Ferguson as his cleric?”
“I never considered it, but it’s the kind of bargain that would excite the old bastard. Then again, considering his age, he might be dead before he can collect on his end of the deal.”
Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3) Page 39
