Trial And Glory (Book 3)

by Joshua P. Simon

  Krytien nodded.

  The mage stepped back inside.

  * * *

  Elyse sat at her desk, working by the flickering light of a candle. Hot wax spilled over the sides of the candleholder. She kept meaning to do something about it, but each time she started to stand, a new thought came to mind. Then she’d spend the next several minutes jotting down notes and rereading the messages that arrived over the last couple of days.

  Each word needed to be perfect and careful to make her intentions clear to the recipient, but equally careful not to offend those in the capital who might learn of her orders. She didn’t trust her messengers, whether they gave her cause to doubt or not she planned for the worst.

  The siege might continue for weeks, but if her prayers were heard and Cadonia ended victorious, she needed to be ready to fix the mess that had occurred in her absence.

  The latest reports insinuated that Gauge had won over many of the nobles once loyal to Tomalt and Bronn. If he managed to gather the remnants of the armies Kaz had disbanded months before, she might have to fight another war against her countrymen once the dust settled at the High Pass.

  She planned to send messages to each of the nobles Gauge courted, hoping she could sway them from any treasonous activity—something she made clear she would not tolerate.

  In the meantime, Elyse reached out to those she knew remained loyal. Given the losses her army had taken thus far, and the need to leave an occupying force at the High Pass should victory be achieved, she needed to also field a force capable of countering any potential acts of aggression Gauge might attempt.

  With Grayer dead and Kaz leaving, I also need to decide on who would be best to lead that force.

  A stack of completed, false messages sat on the edge of her desk, sealed in wax. Lobella would deliver those to riders at the first light of dawn. A second stack as large, sat next to them. Elyse would hand deliver those letters herself before dawn.

  While Lobella sleeps.

  Elyse continued furiously with quill and ink, holding her breath as she scratched each mark. She only had a few hours of darkness remaining and dozens of messages, both real and false, left to craft.

  Her hand ached and her eyes blurred from exhaustion, but she felt more in control of her life than she ever had before.

  * * *

  Hovex fell into Kaz’s line of sight as he entered the dank cell. The young Kifzo’s eyes hid none of the hate he had for him. Other than the initial glance, Kaz chose to ignore the youth.

  Itken sat in one of two chairs at the center of the room. He wore light armor of blue and gray. Empty scabbards hung at his back, waist, and thigh. His eyes tracked every movement as Kaz took the chair across from him.

  The two stared unflinching for some time. Though Kaz had dozens of questions for the Kifzo, he did not want to appear eager.

  Itken nodded ever so slightly as if he answered his own silent question. He leaned back in his seat. “So, it is you then?”

  “Was there any doubt?” asked Kaz. Despite the circumstances, he found comfort in speaking his native tongue.

  “Some.”

  “I’ve been on the walls fighting for weeks now.”

  “Fighting for a people not your own. Many of the Kifzo wondered how much of what we saw was illusion.” He spat. “Maybe something one of your shamans crafted.”

  “Now you know for certain.” He paused. “You were sent to kill me.”

  “Yes. And if possible, your captains.”

  “And you did not hesitate in carrying out those orders.”

  The Kifzo snorted. “Why should I? You are no longer our warleader.”

  “And Guwan is?”

  “No. Your brother.”

  Tobin rose quickly in my absence.

  “Then why are you here? And why isn’t Tobin leading you?”

  “Why your brother stayed in Hesh, I don’t know. I imagine it has something to do with Nachun or Nareash or whoever he is. They did not part on the best of terms, but Tobin ordered us to follow the shaman anyway.”

  Interesting. Did you finally see who Nareash is, brother?

  A thought struck him. “You said Tobin gave you those orders. Why didn’t Bazraki stop him? That doesn’t sound like something my father would allow.”

  Itken grunted. “I forgot how much you’ve missed. Your father is dead. Tobin killed him and became ruler in his stead. Before we set sail, your brother had conquered all but the White Tundra Clan.”

  Father dead? Tobin rules Hesh. Have I really been away for so long?

  Kaz narrowed his eyes. “Tell me. Everything.”

  “Why should I? I have no love for you.”

  Kaz’s voice pitched lower, doing all that he could to keep control of his rising anger. “Why should you? Because you know what I’m capable of.” His hand drifted to the hilt of a dagger at his waist.

  Itken noticed the move. He stared for a moment as if in thought, then shrugged. He outlined everything that had occurred since Kaz’s disappearance—death, betrayal, defeats, victories, and so on. It all made Kaz’s head spin. He saw the High Mage’s influence in it all.

  Father was never a military genius, but he was never the fool either. But Nareash needed someone in power he could control, and he had already developed a relationship with Tobin. So, heal his ankle, push him into killing father, and aid him in conquering Hesh with new weapons, armor, and power. Then no matter what terms they were on when Nareash left, Tobin would feel obligated to give him use of the Kifzo. He shook his head at the patience and persistence displayed by the High Mage. The same traits he shows now.

  With such an influx of information, Kaz did not have time to weigh the rest of the Kifzo’s words. He would worry about his brother and those other things when he had the time, including Walor’s appointment of second in command. Nareash remained his immediate concern.

  Itken sat smiling, as though the Kifzo knew what Kaz would be struggling with.

  He enjoyed telling me all those things. He wanted to see me reel at the news. And that’s because he knew only the man I allowed him to see. None of the man I was with Lucia. None of who I am now.

  Kaz realized that he needed to put away the cold visage if he ever hoped to become victorious at the High Pass.

  “How is Anya?” Kaz finally asked.

  Itken’s smile vanished at the mention of his wife. A look of confusion replaced it, followed by one of anger. “Is that some threat? You are too far away to be—”

  Kaz cut him off. “It is not a threat. It is a question. How is your Anya? Or at least how was she? You’ve been away from her for some time now.”

  “Her well-being is none of your concern,” he snapped.

  “You have two boys, correct? Their ages must be about four and five. They’ll soon be ready to start training as Kifzo. What do you think of that?”

  Itken raised his head. “I will be proud, just as any other man would be.”

  Kaz heard the words, but saw from the Kifzo’s posture he did not mean them.

  “I wouldn’t.” He paused, gauging Itken’s reaction, whose eyes widened at the admission. “I know there were jokes behind my back about why I have no children. I let them go because the assumption of being sterile was better than exposing my true weakness.”

  Itken remained quiet. Kaz had his attention. No Kifzo ever spoke of weakness without being ridiculed by others.

  “Lucia wanted children very badly, but I refused her. That was the only thing we ever fought about.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Does Anya know what you do?”

  “She knows I’m a warrior, and I bring great honor to our home.”

  “Honor,” the word tasted bitter on Kaz’s tongue. “Does she know the things we do for that honor?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Itken looked over to the young warrior. Kaz followed his gaze. Hovex stared at the two curiously, hanging on every word. Itken did not want to admit weak
ness to one so young.

  Kaz continued. “You may be embarrassed to admit it to anyone else, but I no longer am. I kept those things from Lucia because I was ashamed of them. How many innocents did we slaughter? How many women raped? Who can find honor in that? I know Lucia would not, and I doubt Anya would either.”

  Itken frowned.

  “I did not want any son of mine to end up as I had.”

  “You’re trying to trick me with these soft words.”

  “No. I want this war to end so I can be with Lucia once more. What do you want?”

  The two stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Itken’s mouth twisted into a sneer, and Kaz thought he had lost him. The Kifzo exhaled slowly. “I want to raise my sons in peace.”

  Hovex tried to shout something, but the words remained muffled. Itken glanced in his direction and then to Kaz. He continued. “Not everyone shares my opinion.”

  “He’s young. What about the others? What do they want?”

  Itken shrugged, his demeanor changed. “I don’t know. Some might agree with us, but it wouldn’t be easy for them to admit.”

  “I want the Kifzo to fight for me. They must be frustrated at the way they’ve been utilized. Stand next to my men, and we could hold this fortress until the end of time.”

  “You call for peace by having us fight?”

  Kaz sighed. “Nothing happens overnight.”

  Itken laughed. “You’re serious? You want us to become traitors.”

  “Traitors to whom? Nareash? He is not Kifzo. He isn’t even Heshan. And he will never allow you to return home. Cadonia is not enough for him. There will always be something more that he’ll want the Kifzo for.”

  “But Guwan—”

  “Guwan is Nareash’s pet. A figurehead. And based on the way you talked about him earlier, the Kifzo do not respect him. Fight for me, and we will return to Hesh. You have my word.”

  “Let’s say we do fight for you and win. We return to Hesh, and then what? Your brother is ruler now. He hates you as much as he ever has.”

  Kaz sighed. “That will be between him and me to decide. I have no more desire to be warleader. I just want to live quietly with Lucia.”

  “That’s not good enough. For a while, I thought your brother had potential to surpass you as warleader. He began to change our ways and put an end to the things you allowed to happen—the things you want to change now. But when we left, he was worse than you ever were. If you want us to fight for you now, then you need to fight for us when we return. As you said, nothing happens overnight.”

  “I will.”

  “No. Promise me. Promise me that you will not stop fighting until there is peace in Hesh. That you will not leave Juanoq until it is certain that no more boys will suffer as we did. That no more families suffer because of what we did.”

  “I promise. I will see it done.”

  * * *

  Krytien stood at the edge of the sewage drain, Kaz at his side. The damp, cold air caused bumps to form on his skin. They watched in silence as Itken disappeared around a bend.

  “You’re sure about letting him go?”

  “He could betray me,” Kaz admitted. “And even if he doesn’t, the rest of the Kifzo may kill him rather than go along with our plan.” He paused. “Plus, they still have to keep the whole thing from Guwan before the next engagement.”

  “A simple no would have sufficed.”

  Kaz grinned. “Do you have Hovex secured?”

  “Yes. He’s completely out, and no one can get into the room without me knowing.”

  “Good,” said Kaz. He turned back toward the steps. “Before you leave, replace the spell they tripped the first time around.” He stopped three steps up. “Actually make it stronger. Just in case.”

  Chapter 12

  Guwan listened intently as Itken recounted his story in the privacy of his tent. Three Kifzo died, a terrible loss, and Itken carried his own injuries.

  Yet the mission had been successful. Kaz is dead.

  He fought against his smile, conscious not to allow his excitement to get the best of him in front of someone he commanded. He could still hear Cef’s words from his Kifzo training.

  “Careful what you show your allies today, for tomorrow they might become your enemy.”

  Though he chose Itken for the mission because of his loyalty, Guwan did not doubt the Kifzo harbored some ill will toward him.

  And likely wishes to have my position.

  He silently admitted the impressiveness of Itken’s story with such a narrow escape. Rather than congratulate the Kifzo on his success, Guwan chose to berate him.

  Let him not forget his failures.

  “What of the other captains?”

  “As I said, there was no time. You ordered us to kill Kaz, first and foremost. We did that.”

  “I also wanted you to take down their captains.”

  “They cut us off from the rest of the fortress. Our options were to return to camp or die while trying to break through dozens of men.”

  “So you chose the easier option?”

  Itken’s eyes narrowed, his lids covering their whites. Two piercing black coals remained. “Are you calling me a coward?”

  “Those are your words. I did not call you anything.”

  Itken bowed his head, jaw clenched. “Shall I tell the others the news?”

  “No. I’ll tell them. Rest. And remember those that died.”

  * * *

  Nareash calmly closed the book, stood, and carried it to the center of the tent. He dumped the book into a burning brazier.

  “What are you doing” Mizak shouted from behind.

  The old man ran to the brazier, reached inside bare-handed, and snatched the book out of the fire. He yelped, dropping it to the dirt floor. Fingers in his mouth, he moaned in pain, while stamping out the last of the embers from the edges of the blackened pages and brittle leather.

  “That was foolish,” Nareash said as he turned away, and strode back to the table.

  “Foolish?” shouted Mizak, blowing on his hands. “You just threw a centuries-old document into a fire like a piece of refuse.”

  “It might as well be trash. It contains nothing that matters to me.”

  Mizak walked to Nareash, wincing. “Given time—”

  “Time.” Nareash spat the word out. He grabbed Mizak’s hands. The old man winced, but Nareash held firm as he canted a quick healing spell. He’ll need them to keep working. “We could have all the time in the world and be no closer than we are now. We’ve been through some of these books twice.”

  Mizak turned his hands over. “I wish I could say or do something.”

  “There is nothing more to say, and only one thing that can be done.”

  I can’t keep waiting, especially since I gain nothing as each day passes and Krytien only becomes more familiar with the scepter. I should do what Guwan wanted weeks ago. Challenge him openly. He may have the scepter, but he has yet to battle a High Mage, let alone defeat one. A thin smile formed on his face. While I have defeated several.

  Nareash wheeled as Guwan entered the tent wearing a smug grin. He walked like a man who ruled the world.

  “So good of you to announce yourself.” Nareash pitched his voice to the right note of annoyance. “I thought I made it clear—”

  “I thought you would want to dispense of any formalities given the news I bring.”

  “Which is?”

  “Kaz is dead.”

  Nareash blinked, unable to respond.

  “I thought that might grab your attention.” Guwan walked over to a pitcher of water, and poured himself a cup. “Would you like details?”

  He stared at the Kifzo, forgetting completely about his agitation. “I believe I would.”

  Guwan took a long drink. He put the cup down slowly, his smile returning, larger. He leaned against a pole, folded his arms across his chest, and began. Nareash listened intently to Guwan’s use of the Kifzo to infiltrate the fortress. Thr
ee of the four Kifzo did not return, but Nareash agreed with Guwan that the price had been worth it.

  Nareash wanted to be angry at Guwan for going behind his back, but given the success of his strategy, could not. If anything, the High Mage wondered if he should more closely watch his commander.

  He realized that Guwan had stopped talking. The Kifzo stared at him as if waiting for an answer.

  “Well?” asked Nareash.

  “Well what? I asked you the question. Does this change your plans?”

  He looked down and rubbed at his jaw. Nareash had already decided that he could wait no longer. With Kaz dead, the odds had turned more in his favor.

  The army will not be able to hold as long with their commander dead. If Guwan is able to overwhelm them, Krytien will not be able to fully commit himself against me, lest he face physical harm from others.

  He met Guwan’s eyes. “We attack at first light. And we hold back nothing.”

  * * *

  In the black of night, tens of thousands of soldiers moved at a furious pace. Nareash watched them by the light of bonfires and flickering torches. Standing alone at the edge of a low cliff, his tired eyes glazed. A steady succession of rapid thoughts drew his attention away from the army.

  Once Guwan received Nareash’s orders, he moved like a man possessed, firing off instructions for each company of men. He worked with such ease that Nareash realized Guwan had been preparing to issue those commands since their arrival at the High Pass.

  Seeing the general had things in hand, Nareash drifted out of camp.

  “Remember that in any battle of sorcery, the amount of power one can yield is not always the most important factor in deciding the conflict’s outcome. The ability to create, to deceive, and to outthink your opponent is far more important.”

  Nareash recalled a lesson from Amcaro. The memory mocked him, while also bringing him hope.

  If only I had remembered your words in Lyrosene, I would not have grown so careless around you. But the power of the scepter slowly corrupts those not ready for it.

  Just as Amcaro had outthought Nareash in their battle, he would need to do the same against Krytien.

  That shouldn’t be too hard. I have the advantage of schooling, and even though he wields the scepter, my contact with it left me better able to draw on power myself.