“Never said I was.”
“You sure act like it sometimes.” He handed Kaz the bowl. “Here.”
“Thanks. How did you know I was hungry?”
“I passed by the infirmary on my way out here. Wiqua told me to bring you something. Said you didn’t eat dinner.”
Kaz shoveled the stew into his mouth. “I was going to, but got sidetracked.”
“You couldn’t let someone else do this?”
“Not this. Besides, I’ve passed off enough to others.”
“Wish I could help, but I’m afraid this isn’t where my expertise lies.”
Kaz scraped the bowl, having already inhaled the meal. “But what you do know makes my job much easier. One less thing to worry about.”
“So then you’re down to only three thousand four hundred thirty eight things now?”
Kaz snorted. “Something like that.” He paused. “We haven’t had a chance to spar in quite awhile. How’re your drills going?”
“I’ve been a bit preoccupied to really focus on them.”
Kaz frowned. “You’re on the next watch?”
“Yeah. Just thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing first.”
“Wait here.”
Kaz walked away, pulled one of the workers aside, whispered in his ear, and then patted him on the back as the man took off. Kaz came back over to Drake.
“You’re covered. Draw your sword.” Kaz pulled his own.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re ahead of schedule so I was able to free a man to cover for you. While I’m waiting for them to finish here we can spar. I’d feel better if we go through a few things, and I’m sure you will too.”
“You’re probably right.” He knew that when Nareash came at them in full force again, he’d likely have to leave his equipment and join the ranks.
“Of course I am. Now get ready.”
* * *
Kroke lingered in the shadows, watching the game of dice with little interest. He’d rather be sleeping, but given the players, he thought his presence might be needed.
Fights always seem to break out over the stupidest of things. Foul smelling feet. Months of listening to a man snoring too loudly next to you. He eyed the amount of money changing hands before the next roll. Add coin to short tempers and things can get really ugly.
Raker let his dice fly. The two small red cubes clacked across the stone. An uproar sounded as they came to a stop.
A voice rose above the others. “Ain’t no one can roll seven that many times in a row.”
Raker grinned. “Must be my lucky night.”
“Ain’t no one that lucky.”
“You calling me a liar?” asked Raker, standing tall, hand moving to his mace.
The small crowd gave birth to the burly man who had spoken out. His fingers tickled the hilt of a knife. “Yeah, I’m calling you a liar. And I want my money back.”
It’s like I’m psychic. Maybe I’ll switch profession and have Krytien make me up a few smoke pellets or something.
The man with the knife began to circle, inching his way forward.
“Well, that ain’t gonna—” Raker started.
“All bets are final,” said Kroke, stepping out of the shadows into the torchlight.
The burly fellow halted. “This don’t concern you.”
“Everything concerns me, especially if it’s Hell Patrol related.”
Raker grinned. “That’s just the way things go sometimes.”
Kroke looked over his shoulder. “Give him his last bet back.”
“What?” Raker sputtered. “But you just said all bets are final.”
“They are. I’m making an exception this once.”
“Now, why would you—”
Kroke gave Raker an icy stare that shut the engineer up. He swore, then threw some coins at the man with the knife. He fumbled several and they clinked to the ground. “Don’t think I’ll be so nice again,” said Raker.
“I ain’t playing with you again,” said the man, scooping up the last silver. He waved a hand. “And if they were smart, neither would they.”
With the confrontation ended, others who had been in on the game dispersed. Raker cursed them for being chicken, and then cursed Kroke for screwing up what he had going.
How did Jonrell ever put up with all of us? It’s like babysitting a bunch of children.
“You done?” he finally asked, realizing the engineer had begun to lose momentum.
Raker spat. “Yeah, I’m done.”
And just like a bunch of children, you can’t leave them feeling wounded.
“Good.” He pulled out a money pouch. “Because I think your luck is running out.”
Raker smirked. “You old dog. You did that on purpose just so you could corner me. You must be feeling lucky.”
“Maybe.”
I just don’t care that much if I lose it. Still, there is the principal of it all.
Kroke brought up his other hand. “However, I thought we’d try a set that Krytien hasn’t tampered with.”
“Only if I get two to one odds.”
“What?”
“It’s only fair. You’ve got two hands to my one.”
Kroke shook his head. “Fine. But I’m keeping track of the bets. I’m not falling for your fuzzy math.”
Raker shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s all coming to me anyway.”
Chapter 4
Nareash and the other attendees turned as Guwan threw the tent flap open. The Kifzo’s wide nostrils flared with each intake of breath. Thick cords of muscle flexed at his neck. He whipped his head to the right, braids swinging. In two long strides, he grabbed the underside of a nearby table, flipped it over, and kicked an overturned bowl of fruit across the space.
Amusing.
“General, I trust your men have their orders for the rest of the day?” asked Nareash, hoping the question might calm the man’s temper.
Guwan met his gaze with venomous eyes. “Orders? Yes, they have their orders. Yet again, they’re to lick their wounds and prepare for the next wasted attack you have me lead.” He gestured around the space. “I see you didn’t even watch the slaughter this time. Easier to ignore, I presume.”
Nareash raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, I ignore nothing.” He looked around the tent. “Hezen, dismiss your people. You and Colan leave as well. I need to speak with Guwan in private.”
Hezen complied.
After the last person exited the tent, the High Mage poured Guwan a cup of wine. He continued. “I thought we had reached an understanding.”
Guwan took the cup and drank. “Never did I think this strategy of yours would continue for so long. I’m tired of not having full control of the men I command. I’m tired of leading them each day to another defeat.” He drank again. “The Kifzo are not taking this well either.”
And you think I’m taking this well? I thought I would be sitting on Cadonia’s throne at this point, planning how to expand my empire, not wondering what they can manage with the scepter. My scepter. It’s bad enough not to have it, but worse still knowing it’s in the hands of someone not even ranked as a High Mage.
“We need to continue testing their defenses before mounting another full attack. We still don’t know what else they’re capable of doing with the weapon.”
Guwan snorted “I wonder if they can do anything more than what’s already been done. They haven’t used it once since that first instance. Maybe it isn’t capable of more.”
Oh, it’s capable of much more.
“They’ll use it again. I promise you.”
“But for now, they haven’t. All of these probes haven’t accomplished anything more than wasting our resources. And I’m assuming that you and Mizak still haven’t found anything of use in your studies.”
“Not as much as I had hoped,” admitted Nareash.
“Then let me do more,” Guwan pleaded. “They have less than thirty thousand men sitting behind three stone wall
s. That hasn’t changed. I was on the verge of taking that pile of stone once. I know I can do it again.”
Nareash rubbed is jaw. “I was actually thinking about increasing our probes. Hezen and I were looking at new strategies.”
“And what was decided?”
“Nothing just yet. We’ll finalize plans tomorrow.”
“That will be too late. I need to start planning in time for the morning’s attack.”
“No. I’m giving everyone tomorrow off. I don’t want to rush into any decisions.”
“By waiting, we’re only giving them another chance to regroup!”
Good. Then maybe Krytien will have more time to think about taking matters into his own hands.
* * *
Guwan stared at Nareash’s back as the High Mage strode from the tent.
Guwan had never particularly liked him. Yet for a time, he had at least learned to respect the man. It was hard not to respect someone who wielded such power or possessed the intelligence to craft so many innovations incorporated by the Blue Island Clan. Once Guwan discovered that the High Mage had come from another land, his sense of awe had only increased.
But it dwindles every day now.
Despite their differences, Guwan once understood the mage. Like so many others, Nareash sought power, the idea of which he knew well. He had latched onto the High Mage because he knew he would never rise in rank under Tobin.
Not as long as Walor and Ufer lived.
“He’s infuriating, isn’t he?” said Hezen, re-entering the tent alone.
“He can be.”
“Nareash had me killing myself recruiting while you barely slept, training the army. We nearly broke our necks rushing here to attack as soon as possible. But, at the first sign of a setback, he withdrew and completely changed tactics.”
“He said he’s going to do something different with the next assault. That’s what you were talking about before I arrived, correct?”
“Yes. But what Nareash wants to do and what needs to happen are two different things.” Hezen gestured to the table lying on its side. “I have a feeling you’ll be as disappointed as you were earlier.”
Though Guwan doubted Nareash, a part of him clung to the idea that the High Mage had finally come to his senses. “Have you told him there are better strategies?”
“Of course, but I’m not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds me.” He grinned. “At least not until I know how big of a bite I can take.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know why he’s become so cautious.”
Guwan tensed. “Why?”
“He’s scared.”
Guwan chuckled. Though he had considered that notion for some time, he still felt an obligation to defend Nareash.
“I’m serious.”
“What is he scared of?”
“Krytien.”
No. This weapon is what frightens him.
Hezen’s face grew stern. “He destroyed a third of Asantia by himself.”
Guwan recalled the devastation he saw after his first teleportation. Not a single building stood untouched from the forces that assaulted that part of the city. Tumbled brick, black rock, and shattered timbers had filled Asantia’s streets with such totality, it had been hard to find a path into the unscathed parts of the city. He shook his head. “Nareash said that no one could wield that kind of power.”
“He’s been wrong before. He thought he was invincible with the scepter, but his old master managed to defeat him.”
Guwan thought about the weapon. “You really think that Krytien can beat Nareash?”
“Yes. Nareash must believe that as well. He didn’t withdraw from the original attack until after their mages hit our lines with their sorcery. They took out five thousand men with one assault. Have you ever seen something like that before? I have. Krytien was there as well. Don’t you find it odd that Nareash called a retreat instead of mounting a counter-attack? He likely wondered if he could beat the mage.”
“If Krytien is that strong, then why hasn’t he done more since that day? It seems that Kaz would make better use of his assets.”
Hezen shrugged. “That’s probably a question that plagues Nareash.”
Guwan rubbed his tired eyes.
If Nareash loses, where would that leave me?
Guwan clicked his tongue. What is his angle?
“Let’s say that you’re right, Hezen. Where does that leave us?” He gestured toward the tent entrance. “If Krytien is this strong, and Nareash can’t take him, then what hope do we have of victory?”
“There’s always hope. If Krytien defeats Nareash, he will be severely weakened. That would be the time for us to press. We still have the numbers. Trust me, they would fall, especially with your Kifzo. If you kill Kaz, they’d crumble all the easier.”
And if we lose, at least it would be on my terms.
Guwan eyed the man. “So, you still haven’t given up plans to become emperor then?”
Hezen glanced at the tent flap then stepped closer to Guwan. “Is it wrong to want more? Why shouldn’t you and I push on if Nareash fails?” He paused. “How are your Kifzo taking this siege?”
“They are as frustrated as I am.”
And their respect for me is slowly fading. They blame me for the failures thus far. They want someone to take command, not someone to move pieces based on another’s decisions. Under Kaz and Tobin, they knew success. Now, they only know humiliation.
Hezen grunted. “I would imagine they are more than frustrated. They don’t have the vested interest that you do.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I know Nareash has forced you to restrict your use of the Kifzo. Perhaps it’s time you tried a different approach.”
“What do you suggest?”
Hezen shrugged. “You’re the general. I’m sure you can think of something.”
It would need to be subtle.
“Yes, I’m sure I could.”
* * *
Nareash walked through the massive camp while considering his conversation with Guwan. He had recruited the Kifzo because of the man’s potential. However, the qualities that once appealed to him, gave him a headache instead.
It is no longer a matter of if he’ll defy me, but when? What was it that Gauge once said? “A man who isn’t harboring his own agenda, is one who is no longer breathing.”
Nareash had been gone so long from Cadonia, he wondered what the noble busied himself with. The two had a falling out shortly after Nareash discovered the scepter. Words were exchanged, some the High Mage knew he would never forgive. However, he could not help but feel some sorrow that the man who saved him from the streets had turned into nothing more than a fleeting thought. He remembered another one of Gauge’s gems.
“Don’t let anyone hold you back from your goals. No matter who they are.” He grunted. I wonder if he realized I wouldn’t let him hold me back either.
He took a deep breath, ready to let out a long sigh, but paused. The smell of dinner reached his nose, reminding him he still had not eaten in some time.
Later. After I’ve had time to think.
Nareash eyed the men congregating around large bison carcasses roasting over campfires. Fat dripped into the flames, sizzling before sending thick smoke into the air. The High Mage noted that in any other camp he would not have heard such distinct sounds. Conversations of the army itself would likely have drowned out the meals cooking.
Yet, other than a few mutterings, little was said among those by the fires. They either stared blankly at the dancing flames or bitterly in his direction. He knew that he was the cause of their mood and for that he was glad he could not make out what few words they spoke.
Heads quickly shifted away from him. He realized that his hands had started to glow. He took a deep breath without breaking his stride. The glow faded.
I can’t let my anger get the best of me. Not now. Not when there is so much to consider. So much that coul
d go wrong.
He cursed anyway.
“Master? Can I help you with anything?” asked Colan.
Lost in thought, he had forgotten that the shaman had followed him after leaving the command tent.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s Guwan.”
Nareash noted Colan did not ask a question, but made a statement. Another whose intelligence at times has become a nuisance.
Since the shaman did not ask for an answer, Nareash chose not to provide one.
They walked in silence, past countless rows of tents. Nareash crinkled his nose as he crossed a bridge over a series of latrines. Leaving the camp, he ascended a small rise of rust-colored rock. He looked down at the army that spanned leagues in the wide valley of the Cataric Mountains. The valley floor narrowed as it continued through the range until gradually sloping upward to the curved outer wall of the fortress. The wall’s shape reminded Nareash of a mocking grin, the gate a tongue.
Nareash spat.
“Do you want me to take care of him?”
“Him?”
“Guwan?”
“No. He’s the best commander available.”
I’ll deal with him in my own way if needed.
“He isn’t what’s troubling you?”
Nareash lied. “Nothing is troubling me.”
“Then Master, what about these delays?”
Nareash turned slowly, his voice growing cold. “There have been no delays. Are you trying to insinuate I don’t know what I’m doing?”
“No, Master. Of course not. It’s just that the strategy has been confusing and very different from what you talked about in Hesh.”
“Things change, Colan. Only a fool would marry himself to one strategy when new facts present themselves.”
“So you’ve said. But I don’t understand. What facts?”
“Ones that you wouldn’t understand.” Colan started to open his mouth but Nareash presented the shaman his back. “I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
A long pause followed. “Yes, Master.”
The shaman’s footsteps trailed away as Nareash continued to stare at the fortress. Colan’s last question dominated his thoughts.
What facts?
Nareash replayed the events from the first day back in his head.
Five thousand men. Dead in a matter of moments.
Trial And Glory (Book 3) Page 4
