It was the same discussion they had been having for the last few days, and Master Coal looked even more tired than before. Fist knew that the wizard could have cut Justan off or dismissed his concerns out of hand, but he was impressed by Coal’s restraint. The wizard listened patiently and waited for Justan to finish before replying.
“The city of Filgren is only a few miles east of here. It isn’t a large city, but it is one of the major crossing points of the Wide River. Most people leaving Dremaldria for Razbeck will cross there. It is a perfect spot to gather information on the current goings on in Dremald.”
“Alright, fine. We gather information. And then what?” Justan asked. “Once we leave Filgren are we traveling to the academy?”
Coal sighed. “I will send the information to Willum so that he can tell Tad the Cunning. We will then see what Tad thinks our best course will be.”
Justan frowned. “So we spend tomorrow at Filgren. Tomorrow night you speak with Willum. Then we wait around another day so you can speak with Willum again that night and see what Tad says?”
“That is the current plan, yes,” the wizard replied.
“Argh! That’s just more delaying!” Justan said. “What if something were to happen? What if Ewzad Vriil were to give the order for the army to attack? There is no way we could get there in time to help.”
“Tad is convinced that the army will not attack for some time.” Coal reminded him. “Ewzad Vriil is waiting for something. He has to know that the academy is well prepared. With their current forces, even a sustained attack would not overcome the walls.”
“Goblins and orcs might not break the academy, but Ewzad has more than that!” Justan said. “Surely you haven’t forgotten what he made Kenn into? How many bandhams would it take to bring the academy down? Three? Four?”
Fist shivered. All he knew of the academy came from Justan’s thoughts and memories, but the thought of four of those creatures flying down into the packed mass of people behind those walls was horrible. Even the best soldiers in the world wouldn’t stand a chance.
Coal shook his head. “I doubt that is possible. The way the Rings of Stardeon work, he would have to have bandham bodies to work with to make more monstrosities like Kenn. Bandhams are too rare a creature for that.”
“We wouldn’t have thought it possible the first time it happened to us either,” Justan argued. “The truth is we don’t know about all the beasts Ewzad Vriil has created. Deathclaw showed me some of the creatures he fought in the dungeons and if he hadn’t been there to fight them, we may not have made it out alive.”
“You are right,” Coal said. “We don’t know. Which is why we are scouting out the situation before we barge in.”
Fist could tell that Justan was having difficulty restraining himself. “Then what if we split our forces? I could take my bonded and go now and while we make things harder for Ewzad’s army, you could continue to gather information. Our small group could attack their supply lines, assassinate their leaders-.”
“No!” Coal snapped, and this was the first time Fist had seen anger in the wizard’s eyes. All other talk in the camp ceased as everyone’s attention focused on the wizard. “The Mage School put you under my care and until either the High Council or Valtrek say otherwise, you must stay with me.”
Justan was startled by the intensity of Coal’s reaction, but Fist felt his surprise turn to defiance. Justan’s eyes narrowed. “And if I were to leave anyway?”
“I am your master. If you ran off against my will, you would be in breach of contract,” Coal said, his expression unchanged. “You promised the school two years. You have just over eight months left.”
“I understand that, and I would return as soon as the siege was over,” Justan said.
“It wouldn’t matter to the council. A contract breaker is rarely given a second chance. Do you know what happens when student’s breach contract?”
“Yes,” Justan said, looking down. Fist felt a hint of fear come from him. “They hunt down contract breakers and quell them . . . but could they do that to me? Could they take my bonded away?”
Coal shook his head. “I doubt it. Most of the wizards don’t even know spirit magic exists, much less how to take it away. They could take away your elemental magic, however. You would lose the ability to heal your bonded or protect them from spells.”
Justan swallowed. “But they wouldn’t know unless you told them. With my family in danger, would you do that to me?”
“It would be my duty,” Coal said, his stern gaze unforgiving. “Not that it matters. If you were to run off now, you would most likely die anyway, you and your bonded versus thirty thousand goblinoids. Still, if you did survive, the Mage School would hunt you down.”
“Justan,” Fist said. “Maybe-.”
“Not now, Fist.” Justan took a deep breath and tried to push his anger down. “Look, Master Coal, I know that you aren’t doing this out of fear, but-.”
“I am very much doing this out of fear,” Coal said. “Not fear for myself. Fear for you. Fear for Willum. Fear for all of us. If we do not act smartly, we will simply die fighting that large army and that will not help the people in the academy.”
Justan’s eyes were closed and his hands clenched at his sides. “I am sorry, Master, but what we are doing isn’t enough.”
“It will have to be, at least for now.” Coal said with finality. “And that is all I will say on the matter tonight. It is time I spoke with Willum and then I really do need to sleep. I need to have my wits about me when we go into Filgren tomorrow.”
Justan nodded and sat by the fire sullenly, unwilling to talk to anyone on the subject. Even Lenny was rebuffed with a firm shake of the head. When the meat had finished cooking, they ate, but even though his mouth burned from Lenny’s spices, Fist didn’t taste anything. He was too concerned about Justan. Justan’s bitter feelings sat like coals burning in the back of his mind.
They bedded down for the night shortly thereafter and Fist eagerly fluffed up his pillow. He had left the leather cover on as Miss Becca had commanded even though it took some of the soft squishiness out of the pillow, but he could still smell the faint scent of the honstule blossoms it was stuffed with. The smell brought back memories of his brief time at Coal’s Keep and the home he had made there. Thinking of the place made him feel both sad and happy at the same time.
“You are missing the farm,” Justan said from his bedroll a few feet away.
“Yes. It was a nice home for me,” Fist said. “Do you not miss it too? Just a little?”
Justan thought for a moment. “It was a good place, but I don’t have room in me to miss it right now. What I miss is the surety of knowing what I’m doing. I miss having some sort of control over my life.” And I don’t like being threatened.
He would not really do it, Fist sent in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Master Coal would not tell on you. He is too kind and he is our friend.
Probably not, Justan agreed, though his feelings still said he was uneasy about the wizard’s threat. But I hope I don’t have to risk it.
If you decide to leave, I will follow. All of us will, Fist sent. He believed in Justan, Gwyrtha adored him, and Deathclaw would much rather be fighting the wizard anyway. Still, I hope that you will wait until you have to.
I will, Fist. And I probably need to go and apologize to Master Coal in the morning, but I hate this waiting. I feel paralyzed.
It can be hard when you are not the one in charge-, Fist began, but Justan cut him off.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just . . .” My family is in danger and . . . I am just tired of doing nothing! Justan sent. It was the same thing he had been saying, but Fist knew there was more to it than that.
Maybe the reason you feel like you are doing nothing is because you are doing nothing, Fist replied, finally saying what he had been feeling for the last few days. Since Qyxal died, you have not studied with Master Coal. You have not trained with your swords or bow. You h
ave not even exercised. You just sit on Gwyrtha and feel bad all day, and when you feel bad the rest of us feel bad. I yelled at Squirrel earlier today.
Justan’s body tensed and Fist felt a twinge of anger, followed by realization coming through the bond. After a few moments, Justan took a deep breath and those feelings settled down to acceptance.
“You are right, Fist,” Justan said aloud. “Thank you and . . . I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how my moods were affecting the rest of you. Please tell Squirrel I am sorry too.”
Fist nodded, content that he had delivered his message, and closed his eyes, inhaling the soft scent of honstule blossoms. Squirrel soon joined him, crawling under Fist’s shirt and curling up in a ball on his broad hairy chest as they both drifted to sleep.
Justan did not find sleep so easy.
Chapter Two
The man burst into a million pieces. The queen’s small audience chamber was splattered and the royal guards standing at either side of the unfortunate messenger fell to the ground in shock. Arcon and Hamford who stood next to the throne were pelted with gore, but neither one flinched. Arcon’s face dripped red but his expression was as void of feeling as usual. Hamford if anything, just slumped a little further, still radiating sorrow after hearing of his brother’s demise a few days prior. Queen Elise, who had been sitting on the throne behind Ewzad was the only one untouched.
“My tapestry!” She ran over to the wall and began picking bits of messenger off the priceless family heirloom. She frowned and took a step back, then gave Ewzad a reproachful look. “Blood stains are so hard to get out.”
The wizard didn’t notice her displeasure. He still stared at the spot where the messenger once stood.
“Insolence!” Ewzad spat, his outstretched finger still writhing madly. He threw the letter he had been reading to the sodden floor and stomped on it repeatedly. “I will not stand for it. No-no-no!”
Elise sighed. It was hard to stay mad at him. Ewzad was still furious over the death of his beloved servant Kenn. Or was it his bandham . . . or Kenn the Bandham, she wasn’t sure. Ewzad alternated whatever he called the thing that had died. But what he called it didn’t matter. He was angry.
She had known it would only be a matter of time before someone would say the wrong thing and take the brunt of his fury. This was why she had been taking audience in her personal audience chamber instead of the throne room. If he had destroyed a man in front of the nobles, there would have been a much bigger mess to clean up. This way at least, the damage was contained. The royal guards had taken an oath and wouldn’t talk and the servants that would clean up afterwards were loyal to her. They had cleaned worse messes in the last few weeks. She just hoped Ewzad had gotten this behavior out of his system for now.
“Ewzad, darling! You are a mess!” Elise said and rushed to his side. She plucked at his blood-soaked shirt with distaste. “Take care of this, would you?”
Ewzad turned on her with a sneer, then blinked as if noticing her standing there for the first time. He looked down at his clothes. He giggled and his familiar radiant smile reappeared. “Yes-yes, oh my, what a mess.” Ewzad waved a finger and the blood and gore simply fell off of him, leaving his garments with their black and golden thread sparkling. “Is that better, my dear Elise?”
“Beautiful,” she said and leaned forward on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Ewzad was so sweet. Sweet and handsome. She breathed in deep, taking in his scent. His smell was so clean and manly . . . It was intoxicating.
Ewzad’s face twisted again. “So you say, horrible witch, but I can still do as I please, yes!”
Elise drew back, her eyes widening briefly, but she realized he wasn’t speaking to her. It was that dreadful woman that ran their armies. She was talking to Ewzad’s mind through that hideous eye the Dark Prophet had placed in his arm. The witch was always interrupting, always arguing. Elise knew that she was useful, but part of her wished Ewzad would just crush the woman. Another, far smaller part of her was screaming in terror, but she had learned to ignore it. To listen to that part would mean going completely insane and who would raise the heir then?
“What did the message say, dearest Ewzad?” she asked, pointing to the torn and bloody parchment under his foot.
“The fools want you to send the Dremald army to help break the siege at the Battle Academy.” Ewzad snorted. “As if I, the Lord Protector, would allow such nonsense, no. I’ve already told them they belong here, protecting you, sweet queen. Yes-yes they do.”
“Which fools, dear?” she asked.
“Oh, the noblest of families of course. Yes, the heads of Pross, Roma, and Tensow. Even Earl Preen signed this filth.” He stomped on the torn and bloodied letter once more and it burst into flames. “I so want to kill them.”
“I know you do, dear,” Elise said with a pouting lip and caressed his angular jaw, but inside she was concerned. Those were four of the most powerful houses in Dremaldria. “But don’t worry about the nobles. They will not act without my approval.”
Not yet, were the words she did not say. Her grasp on Dremald was more tenuous than Ewzad cared to know. All of the noble houses chafed under Ewzad’s commands. Despite the flowery praise they spouted when in his presence, none of them respected him. None of them forgot his past behavior.
“The commoners are getting more and more vocal in support of the academy, that’s all,” she said. “This message was just an empty gesture meant to placate the crowds.”
”Oh, my. Placate the crowds? No, what they are doing is making me look bad. That’s what they’re doing!” Ewzad said. Then he snarled and Elise knew that the moonrat woman was speaking to him again. He pulled back his sleeve and glared at the shriveled moonrat eye embedded in the inside of his forearm. “Yes-yes, I know of the importance of your plans, you nasty harlot! And, no. NO! I refuse to speak to you further! The Dark Voice may not let me remove your toy, but I don’t have to listen to it. Arcon!”
“Yes, Lord Protector Vriil,” the young mage said, taking a step forward. He hadn’t bothered to wipe the blood from his face.
“You tell me what she wants, yes? I refuse to speak with her any longer!”
Ewzad’s fingers writhed and his arms swayed snake-like. The vein on the side of his temple was bulging again. These things only happened when he was losing control and Elise knew that this meant trouble for Arcon. Ewzad didn’t trust the man and he was likely hoping for an excuse to kill the moonrat woman’s pet. From Arcon’s reaction, she was sure that he understood the danger.
Arcon nodded and licked his lips before speaking. “My mistress . . . humbly requests that you turn your attentions to the war at hand.” His face twitched slightly and sweat began to bead under the drying blood on his forehead. Elise could see that the moonrat woman was hurting him. She wouldn’t like to be referred to as humble. “She fears that these local distractions will delay your sending the help her army needs.”
“Oh, she does, does she? Ask her this, will you? Has she found out who destroyed my sweet Bandham Kenn? Hmm? Ask her!”
Arcon swallowed. “She . . . she is very sorry it has taken so long, but she has no children in the area you indicated . . . and has been v-very focused on the siege.”
“It was the demon, Master,” Hamford said from his post by the throne. “He killed Kenn, I know it.”
“No-no, Hamford. Even your sweet demon could not have destroyed Kenn and my orc-spitter and my whip-beast! No-no, someone else did it.”
“That is true, My Lord,” Arcon said. “A-as I was saying, my mistress has heard some news regarding this from her spy within the academy.”
“Oh?” Ewzad’s brow rose with interest. “Do tell me. Do tell.”
“Sh-she . . .” Arcon was still trying to talk but no sound was coming out. A trickle of blood fell from his right nostril.
“She doesn’t wish you to tell, yes? I can destroy you, you know,” Ewzad’s face turned to a slight grin. He giggled. “Or better yet, I could twist your body an
d transform you into my new chair. Yes-yes, I would like that. My Arcon throne. Would the witch like that?”
“That sh-should not be necessary my Lord. She was merely taking the time to tell me the tale.” A capillary burst in Arcon’s eye as the statement left his lips and Elise felt sorry for the man. Both of them were furious at him now. No matter what he did at this point, it was not going to turn out well for him. “Her source inside the academy has heard that a named wizard called M-Master Coal and another man called Sir Edge, came upon your servant and . . . m-murdered him, sir. Th-they are on their way to the academy now.”
“Edge? Hmm, that sounds familiar, yes,” Ewzad said thoughtfully.
“My mistress’ spy says that the man claims to be one of the prisoners that survived the . . . battle in your castle, My Lord.”
“Oh-oh! That Sir Edge? The fake that claimed to be named warrior and wizard? How delightful.” Ewzad’s eyes grew angry and his grin turned fierce. “Perhaps I should go destroy them myself. Yes. Yes, I would like that!”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 4
