Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3)

by Berardinelli, James

  Outside, the wind began to howl in the storm’s advent.

  CHAPTER THIRTY: THE STORM

  Lightning ripped the sky’s dark canopy asunder; thunder boomed through the hills surrounding Obis. The snow fell so thickly that it was impossible to see more than a few feet, especially with the strong northwesterly wind blowing it sideways. Even those in the North accustomed to Winter’s fury were hard-pressed to remember a storm that had struck with such unbridled rage. Some blamed it on the absence of the gods. Alicia, however, was more inclined to accept it as a byproduct of the weather manipulation engaged in by Justin and Ariel. Even localized tampering, such as the heat bubble over Vantok, could have vast, long-term global consequences.

  Sorial wasn’t keenly aware of the weather conditions, although part of his work involved ensuring that the fourteen thousand men dispatched by Carannan to the remote location of Sutter’s Hill didn’t freeze to death. To that end, he had hollowed out nearly half the hillside to create a deep, wide cave that was generously stocked with heatstones and glowstones. Although only a fraction of the assembled soldiers could be in the shelter at any given time, effective rotation of the men assured they were able to endure the storm safely. The same was likely not true of Justin’s troops. Although the heat produced by the djinn might be able to take the edge off the cold for a portion of the army, unless The Lord of Fire elected to use his powers directly, it would be a deeply unpleasant journey across the frozen tundra of the North.

  Sorial was nearing the point of exhaustion and he had only been working for about 20 hours. His self-imposed duty was to create an elaborate, extensive network of tunnels below the city and out into the local environs. Keeping in mind that he might lose his powers once the battle began, he wanted to ensure that he - or anyone else - could reach every critical juncture around the battlefield without having to surface. He also wanted passageways available to positions behind enemy lines for purposes of escape or a limited rear assault - a task made difficult because he had no idea how far away that would be from the city gates. As a result, he was forced to dig and bolster tunnels that were as long as ten miles. The massive expenditure of magical energy was draining. By the end of the first day, he felt noticeably older and more decrepit than when he had started.

  Alicia was asleep when he returned to their shared quarters late that night - or was it early the next morning? He had lost track of time. And this was only the beginning. There was so much more work to do before Justin arrived and the need to be prepared for the eventuality of being magically powerless made it all the more important that many unplanned-for things were accomplished. He was also haunted by the recognition of how many mistakes had been made in preparing Vantok’s defense. If they had done things like this, could the city have been saved? Or, at a minimum, might Azarak still be alive?

  His wife stirred when he slipped into bed next to her.

  “You’re ice cold, stableboy,” she murmured as his thigh brushed her hip. She came awake and gazed at him in the darkness using her water-enhanced sight. He recognized the concern in her eyes. “You look tired. You’re doing too much. The last thing we need is for you to burn yourself out before Justin arrives.”

  “No fear of that,” Sorial said with a hoarse laugh. “For better or worse, I still got a lot more magic ahead of me. I wonder if the same is true of Justin. I’m trying to remember what he looked like when I ‘visited’ him in the temple library in Vantok, but the picture ain’t clear. Is he still a vital wizard or just the shell of one? Not just nearing the end, but at it? Is the reason he needs the void because he doesn’t have enough power to face us in a magical duel?”

  “He’s frail,” said Alicia, recalling her surprise at how emaciated he had been during their struggle. “Old, brittle. I’d say there’s not much left. He’s probably been more conservative than Ariel in using his powers, but you may be right. Even with all his advantages of skill and knowledge, he may lack the stamina and raw ability to face us on an equal footing. And it’s the mark of a master magus to husband his resources rather than carelessly expending them. ‘To do with magic what can be done by any other means is the action of a fool or a dilettante.’ That’s Kosterbus. I pictured him like a fat version of you - always serious and orderly in his approach to things.”

  They lay quietly for a while, listening to the distant howling of the wind. Within The Citadel, the only immediate evidence of the storm were occasional cold drafts. Outside, in the city, people were fighting to stay warm and dry while preparing for the onset of war. The streets were deserted with only a skeleton crew of watchmen on patrol. There were limits to what the commoners could do in advance of Justin’s approach, especially with the weather as bad as it was. Full-day curfews would be in effect once the enemy was sighted; passes would be required for transit on the streets. Those with cellars were encouraged to camp in them until the battle was done. Volunteers had been recruited to help in non-combat roles like cooking, delivering meals, waste disposal, and providing newly fletched arrows to the archers. But there was little most men and women could do except hunker down in their homes and hope Obis’ legendarily impregnable walls held sufficiently to keep the streets from teeming with enemy soldiers. This was especially crucial since more than two-thirds of the active army had been relocated outside the city. Sorial’s confidence in Carannan’s stratagem would have been higher if he believed he and Alicia would be able to use their magic to support the troops. At this juncture, that seemed unlikely. The question wasn’t if Justin would institute a void in and around Obis but when he would do so. Only The Lord of Fire knew the answer.

  “How’s the tunneling going?” asked Alicia when it became clear the gentle refuge of sleep was eluding them both.

  Sorial was bone-weary but his mind was too active to allow slumber to offer him the hours of solace he craved. He supposed it was the same for his wife. “There’s a lot more to do, but at least I completed the longest ones. They still have to be widened and buttressed, but if Justin sets up camp far back, we should have a way to get behind his lines.”

  “Could they be used as escape routes?”

  “Perhaps for a few key people like the queen. But they ain’t designed to support large numbers. Not only would people have to proceed in single file but too much of a disturbance could bring the whole thing down.”

  “What’s next for you?”

  “Doing what I can to shore up the walls and finding some incendiary minerals that can be used as weapons. I think I’ve figured out something that might be effective against the djinn. They ain’t got many weaknesses but there may be a way to use their heat shields against them. They ain’t indestructible; it’s just that nothing injures them because the heat cremates projectiles before serious damage can occur. But that might not be an issue for some kinds of deep earth matter. The question is how to launch those slugs. Catapults ain’t gonna work; they’re too bulky, take too long to load, and are too imprecise. We’re gonna need slings and, more importantly, people who are experts in using them.

  “How about your day? How are your talents being used to win the war before it starts?”

  Alicia ignored the cynicism which she recognized as a byproduct of his fatigue. “I’ve tried to assess how big a void might be if one was created in the vicinity. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to make a determination without actually doing it, and that’s not something I’m willing to risk since I might not be able to undo it. But I’d say somewhere around fifteen miles from side to side. It could easily encompass the city and the entire battlefield.

  “My other task, making sure there’s an abundant and replenishable source of clean water available throughout the city, is almost done so if there’s some way I can help you, let me know. Maybe I can use water to drill some of the tunnels. There are plenty of underground streams beneath Obis.”

  “I know. I’ve found a few of them. Got thoroughly soaked by one.”

  “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Digging tunnels is di
rty work. You probably needed a bath.”

  Sorial couldn’t help but laughing, although it hadn’t been funny at the time.

  “There are also some things I need to teach you. In particular, it would be useful for you to learn the void trick. Let’s set aside some time tomorrow. The sooner we get started, the better chance you’ll be able to learn.”

  After an inconsistent night’s sleep, Sorial stumbled out of bed in the early morning and started working again. For this phase of excavation, he enlisted the aid of the rock wyrm, who could create longer, wider tunnels with minimal effort. The creature seemed to enjoy the exercise, viewing it more like play than work. By the time night arrived, the terrain surrounding Obis hid a maze of catacombs. For someone who knew the correct route, it was possible to use them to go nearly anywhere, but there were so many turns, twists, and branches that a person could easily become lost. Sorial knew he should create a map but he had neither the patience nor the skill to make the attempt.

  While the tunneling effort expended energy, it didn’t require much in the way of concentration, so his thoughts were free to wander. He found himself ruminating about Ferguson’s demise and the innkeeper who had sacrificed his life. Maraman had been Sorial’s biological father and Lamanar had “adopted” him, but the man most responsible for Sorial’s upbringing had been Warburm. He found it disconcerting that he couldn’t grieve more deeply for someone who had occupied such an important position in his life. Had his heart become so calloused that death had lost its ability to confound and distress him? And, considering the tasks that lay ahead, was that a bad thing?

  The queen had reacted with satisfaction upon hearing of Ferguson’s demise and, almost as an afterthought, had noted that Warburm deserved some kind of posthumous honor for “taking an action no one else had the courage to enact.” Sorial had suggested that the best way to honor the innkeeper would be to retake Vantok and provide a generous stipend to his wife and daughter for the rebuilding of The Wayfarer’s Comfort. He supposed that was what Warburm would have wanted.

  To the extent that he experienced guilt about the events in Sussaman, it was that another had been forced to act concerning Ferguson. Sorial had been aware for some time that the ancient priest was a festering boil, but he had procrastinated. Ferguson should have died long ago, but Sorial had stayed his hand at the request of others and because of his own scant hope that the prelate held the key to defeating Justin. At least now all those who had suffered and died for Ferguson’s cause had been avenged.

  By dawn the next day, the storm had moved on, continuing its ferocious track to the east, leaving in its wake frigid temperatures and three feet of whiteness blanketing the city and its environs. Alicia proved adept at clearing the ice and snow. They melted at her command and flowed away but, like Sorial’s earth-moving efforts, it was slow, tedious, and tiring. Sorial turned his attention to other duties beyond digging. Letting the rock wyrm continue the tunneling work, he went in search of deep earth minerals.

  Battle preparations continued for more than a week with everyone, citizens and soldiers alike, priming for the inevitable. Daily reports provided updates on Justin’s progress. As expected, The Lord of Fire had been slowed by the storm but, although it cut his progress to almost nothing for two days and hampered him thereafter, he didn’t alter his course. His losses numbered in the hundreds, the evidence of which was a long trail of frozen bodies in his wake, left where they had fallen. It was a bonanza for ice vultures and carrion dogs.

  After finishing the tunneling and providing barrels of “bang rocks” to the wall defenders and the men camped at Sutter’s Hill, Sorial employed his abilities to lend strength to the walls, firming areas that showed age-related crumbling, fusing cracks, and shoring up as much of the massive barrier as was possible given his limited time. It wouldn’t stop the djinn but it would make it harder for them to achieve their objective.

  Two weeks after the onset of the storm, the weather took a turn for the milder and the pace of work increased. Sorial was scaling the front wall near the gate when a courier approached with a message that Queen Myselene requested the presence of Magus Sorial in the temporary throne room she had established in one of the city’s larger mansions. Since Alicia was busy working on a project involving sanitation, he went alone.

  The room in which Myselene was enthroned was more intimate than the audience chamber in the destroyed palace but that was only to be expected. In fact, it reminded him of Azarak’s small audience hall, the one in which Alicia had celebrated her Maturity. Myselene’s chair was oversized and ornate but not comparable to the one from which so many generations of kings and queens of Obis had ruled. Sorial wondered whether the ancient gold-crusted throne might eventually be salvaged or whether it had been pulverized. She wore the crown, whose dents had been expertly hammered out, and the heavy robes of state were exact duplicates of those lost in the collapse. Guards, one of whom was Rexall, surrounded the queen. Apparently, he had resumed his position on her personal retinue. In fact, half of the dozen men in the room were from the contingent Carannan had brought with him to Obis - Vantok men, loyal to the core.

  When she noticed Sorial’s arrival, she dismissed the noble with whom she was conversing. He slinked away with a peevish expression that turned to alarm when he recognized who was responsible for the abrupt termination of his interview. The men and women of Obis respected their queen but feared her chief advisor, and Sorial’s mysterious appearance did nothing to soften his intimidating reputation.

  “Your Majesty,” said Sorial, approaching the queen and executing a slight but formal bow. He favored Rexall with a nod of recognition.

  In an unexpected reciprocal gesture, Myselene rose from the throne and curtseyed. “Your Magus, I’m pleased you could make time in your busy schedule to see me.” There was no hint of sarcasm in the words; they were sincerely meant. “You look tired.”

  Tired and old. Eighteen years old, but I look thirty. At least ten years eclipsed in as many days.

  “Are we ready?” she asked. “Can we beat him?”

  She was asking him because she thought he had a sense of Justin’s capabilities. Truthfully, Sorial didn’t know, nor was he sure if such an understanding would matter if The Lord of Fire invoked a void. He avoided a direct answer to the question, although he knew she was savvy enough to recognize the aversion and its meaning. “We’re as prepared as possible. Hopefully, we’ve anticipated the worst he can offer. The walls are stronger than they’ve been since the stone giants helped build ’em. The soldiers on the walls and in the field have got bullets that can hurt the djinn. And there ain’t a place in ten miles that can’t be reached by a tunnel. You’ve got your escape plan?”

  “There will be no escape.” The look that passed between Myselene and Rexall at that moment spoke volumes. This had obviously been a matter of heated discussion. The queen would not be overruled and the captain of her guard wasn’t happy about that. Sorial could sympathize; he’d had firsthand experience with Myselene’s headstrong nature.

  “Death with honor rather than life as a queen in exile?” It was, of course, a choice she had faced before.

  “I’m tired of running. And, really, if Obis falls, there’s nowhere left to run to. After Vantok, there was Basingham. After Basingham, there was Obis. After Obis… where? Not Andel. They’d give me up in a moment if it spared them Justin’s wrath. A small village somewhere in the far south? Even if he didn’t find me, what kind of life would that be?” Left unspoken was the knowledge she shared with Sorial and Alicia that there was more at stake here than the six cities. If Justin won, there might be no safe place on any of the continents.

  “Even so, if you go, use the longest tunnel. The entrance is in the basement of The Citadel. The exit is ten miles to the east, which should be well past Justin’s lines. From there you could go to Sussaman, where I’m sure you’d be welcome - at least now that your power-mad chancellor has been dealt with.”

  “I suppose I’m g
oing to have to find someone to fill that position. Not an easy task now that so many worthy candidates are dead. I guess I’ll wait until after the battle and see who distinguishes themselves. I’d ask Alicia but I know that she and you have… things to do after this is all over. The ghosts of Ibitsal have spoken.

  “They tell me Justin is only days away. Overcommander Carannan doesn’t believe the battle will last long. In a week, all should be decided one way or the other. Strange to think… so little time, so momentous a turn of events. In ordinary days, a week might pass without anyone noticing. Now, a week stands between a return of liberty to the cities or a reign of terror.”

  “How is the next ruler of two cities?” He couldn’t help asking even though he wasn’t sure it was wise.

  “He’s given me an incredible appetite. And sometimes I think I can feel him moving.”

  “Him?”

  Myselene shrugged. “That’s how I think of it. I suppose it could be a her. As I hope I’ve demonstrated, it shouldn’t matter. Gender shouldn’t be an obstacle to rulership.”

  “If Justin loses, what then?”

  “Retake Vantok. That’s why I came here in the first place.”

  “But things have changed. And so have your plans, I assume. Will you unite the remains of Justin’s rampage?”

  “And create an empire? Most likely. But not through conquest. Each city will be given a choice to join the confederation, including Andel. There won’t be reprisals for refusal.”

  No reprisals, but no aid either. And he was reasonably certain she intended to acquire the loyalty of all four wizards. The battle of Obis would determine who ruled the world - if there was a world to be ruled.

  “Where will you ride out the battle?” asked Sorial.

  “In the bowels of The Citadel. The most secure location, I’m assured. In there, I’m not likely to become an accidental casualty. If Justin wins, I’ll live long enough to meet him face-to-face and suffer the same fate as Azarak. I’d be honored to die the same way he did.”