My strength was even greater than before. When I had begun, I had commanded something close to two and a half Celiors worth of aythar. Reclaiming most of that from the enchantment, along with what I had garnered from my wonderful slaughter, put me closer to four.
And it still isn’t enough.
Of course, without spending some time with my tools back in my workshop, I couldn’t be precise, but I trusted my guess to be roughly correct. Based on what I knew of Mal’goroth, I needed more than ten times what I currently held to face him on even footing. That’s easy enough, I thought, take the rest of Lothion’s population, toss in some extras from Dunbar and Gododdin, and I might have enough—so long as I’m not too picky.
No!
My conscience had decided to speak up again. He had been strangely silent since Tremont’s slow demise. Relax, I wasn’t serious, I told myself. Something about that seemed humorous to me, and I began to laugh.
I stopped when I heard the screams.
They were soft and in the distance, but they gave the impression of being multilayered. Using a hasty spell I increased my hearing, and then the true symphony began to make its way to my ears. All across the city people were reacting with various degrees of shock, dismay, and delightfully, sometimes with screams.
It must be rather disconcerting to suddenly find everyone in your vicinity inexplicably dead.
“Mal’goroth should be fairly peeved when he finds out how many of his toys he lost here today,” I said to myself. I suppressed the urge to walk back in. Hearing the sounds of chaos within made me desperately want to go and see the reactions of the people first hand.
Once everyone has calmed down, they’ll probably want to throw a parade for me. It was a pleasant thought, but my pessimistic inner voice wouldn’t shut up.
No, the reason you’re leaving is because Mal’goroth will be drawn here now. We mustn’t let him discover us here. It’s time to reclaim your home.
“Shut up!” I yelled at myself, not caring if anyone saw my odd behavior. “I’m in charge, not you!”
If you are looking for excitement, all the action is going to be back at Cameron Castle.
That was true, I had to admit. Sometimes my inner observer had a point. “Penny will be there, too,” I said aloud with a feeling of sudden anticipation. Thinking of her filled me with a distinct craving. It was a sensation similar to the mixture of intense hunger and sexual tension.
Stay away from her! My inner demon was particularly emphatic, almost desperate.
“You’re so easily riled up. I wouldn’t hurt her. I still love her after all,” I told myself with a clever grin.
Reaching into one of my wondrous pouches, I withdrew my staff and used it to etch a complex circular design in the dirt. It was a teleportation circle, and I set the destination key to one of the circles in the courtyard of Castle Cameron. Whatever was happening there at the moment, I doubted anyone would be expecting me to reappear there just then.
Uttering a word, I attempted to transition myself to my destination, but nothing happened. “That’s odd,” I said. I tried one more and again, nothing. The only explanation was that the destination circle had been destroyed.
I tried one of the circles in Lancaster, and after that failed I tried another in Arundel. Both were completely non-responsive. “That doesn’t bode well for my friends and family,” I noted dispassionately. Deeper down though, my inner self was growing panicked.
Considering my options, I knew I could still use the World Road, but I didn’t really want to travel by such an obvious route. If Mal’goroth were watching for me, that would be one of the prime locations to keep an eye on. I still had one circle in the foothills near Lancaster, a secret location I had set up for evacuating Cameron Castle, but I was too paranoid to use it now.
What if my opponent had destroyed all the other circles just to force me to use that one? What if he was waiting there? My head was full of shadows, and it was difficult to think clearly. Was it really a bad idea, or was I seeing traps where there were none?
If you’re that nervous, just fly. You can still reach it within a day if you use your best speed.
“Yes,” I replied, “That is a good idea.” I started to withdraw the enchanted stones that would form my flying craft, when I noticed that I still had the diamond cubes in my right hand. After disassembling my enchantment they had flown back to the center stone and formed a larger cube. It seemed slightly hazy now.
Looking closer I could see cracks in some of the cubes. I probably won’t be able to use them for anything as large as a city again, I thought sadly.
You shouldn’t use them at all. They’re cracked. It’s too dangerous.
I made a sour face in response to my inner killjoy and tucked them back into their proper pouch. Before I could reach for the stones for my flying craft I had another thought, and this one was particularly brilliant. I’m immortal, invulnerable, and possessed of the power of at least four gods—why do I need a flying craft?
“Damn right,” I said in agreement. I considered wings for a moment but then decided they were too unfashionable. Instead, I said a few words and took control of the air around me, using it to lift myself directly up. Creating a cone shaped shield, I used the wind to drive myself forward through the air. It wasn’t easy to steer, but my reflexes and reactions were far beyond human now.
Faster and faster I drove myself through the air, gaining ever more speed. One mistake and I’d drive myself headfirst into the ground or perhaps a mountain, when I had gotten closer to Cameron. The thought didn’t scare me a bit, though. I’d feel sorrier for the mountain.
Chapter 37
Cyhan sat in quiet solitude. He was uncomfortable in much the same way that rivers are wet—thoroughly, completely, and without words. The lack of a fire was a minor inconvenience, but combined with the cold night air, his broken collarbone, the ache in his recently dislocated hip and a variety of still healing bruises, it was almost too much for him. Almost.
A tall figure approached slowly, but Cyhan recognized Harold Simmons by his characteristic gait. The man had a casual walk that sometimes hid his excessive vitality, but it was apparent in the brisk way he stopped and started. “Shouldn’t you be getting the men ready?” Cyhan asked the shadowy outline in the dark.
“That’s part of why I’m here,” replied Harold. “Now that…,” he stopped for a moment, unable to finish the sentence. “You’re the grandmaster now. I need your input on the morning assault.”
“I’m not the grandmaster, just the most senior ranked of those left. I’m also incapacitated, making you the highest ranked brother still competent,” Cyhan shot back with a faint growl. “You should get back to work.”
“There isn’t any doubt about your promotion, assuming we survive the present,” said Harold, ignoring his superior’s surly demeanor.
“Yeah?” said Cyhan, “Who’s going to promote me? The Count is dead, or worse. There are only five of us left anyway.”
Harold sighed. “The Queen will likely transfer our order to royal service. New knights will be made. The work will continue.”
The old veteran caught Harold’s eye with a hard stare, “Without an archmage there will be no more earth-bonds. Which also brings us around to the fact that you and I are on borrowed time. How long before you think we’ll lose ourselves?”
“Doesn’t matter,” insisted Harold. “We live for the oath. If I only have a few years, then I’ll use them to that end. As for new knights, our order is about more than superficial power. It’s about an ideal. As long as there are men who share that dream, we will persist.”
Cyhan spat on the ground. “You really believe in all that shit? You’re just like our departed grandmaster. You know what it got him? Dead. And he was lucky. You should have seen him before he died.”
Harold gave little outward sign of his anger, but one fist clenched reflexively. “Are you saying you’re ready to forsake your oaths?”
The wounded warr
ior laughed. “No. They’re all I have left. I’m just sick of hearing a lot of romanticized bullshit about them. We kill, we protect, and we die. Anyone that thinks it’s a glorious calling is due disappointment.”
“Dorian felt differently.”
Cyhan turned his head to face his visitor squarely, and in the dim light Harold could still make out the tell-tale glimmer of tears on his cheeks. “Dorian was a damned fool! You’re right though, for most of his life he did feel differently, but not at the end. In the end, he saw the ugly truth. I could see it in his eyes.”
Harold’s anger dissipated as he realized how deeply Cyhan was suffering over Dorian’s loss. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying he was heartsick. The blood and the futility of it all had taken root in his heart.”
“You’re still here, and you still serve,” said Harold bluntly.
“I’m not exactly a role-model. Look at me! My body is broken and battered, but that’s not the worst of it. It’s just that my exterior finally matches my interior. My heart died a long time ago. I should be dead along with it.”
Sudden insight woke within Harold, and he began to understand. “You loved him, didn’t you? Just like the rest of us.”
“He was a fool, but yeah, I did. I hated him for it, but I did love the bastard,” admitted Cyhan slowly.
“You want to know why?” Harold asked him unexpectedly.
“Why, what?”
“Do you want to know why you loved him?” clarified Harold.
“Because he was the only man I considered my equal,” said Cyhan, adding, “except for his foolish ideas.”
“No,” declared the younger man, “You loved him because of his dream. You found a man, a warrior, dedicated to the same art, who still believed in honor and the dream of chivalry. He was everything you wanted to be. You loved him because he represented your dream, the dream you had before life and time broke you down inside. You didn’t believe in it anymore, but you loved him anyway, because he gave you hope.”
The older man was silent for a long time, not daring to reply until his throat had cleared. Harold’s words had found their mark. “You’re probably right, I’ll admit it, but where does that put us now? He’s still dead, right along with his dream.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s right here,” Harold pointed at his own chest. “It lives in me and in every young soldier that Dorian inspired, whether they be knight or not. Whatever Dorian felt at the end, it was too late. He had already passed it on, to me, to his son. If you need inspiration, just look to the next generation. It’s here.” The younger knight held out his hand toward his superior.
“What do you want from me?” asked Cyhan, staring upward.
“I need your help. Doron’s power will be shared with our soldiers, giving them strength and speed similar to our own, but they aren’t accustomed to it. There are two-hundred men preparing for war, and some of them are liable to kill themselves before they understand their own strength. I need your help to instruct them in the little time we have left.” Harold kept his hand outstretched.
“You really are much like him,” said Cyhan at last, and then he placed his hand in Harold’s. A moment later he let out a muffled scream of pain. “Stop!” The other man had attempted to pull him to his feet, forgetting his broken collarbone.
“Forgive me!” exclaimed Harold. “I forgot!”
“Well godsdammitt all! My body didn’t forget!” griped Cyhan, between short shallow breaths.
“Elaine said she would come and tend to you,” said Harold.
The older knight grimaced, “Well she hasn’t made it around yet. Get back to your work. I’ll come when I am able, if she gets around to me soon.”
Feeling a bit sheepish Harold left.
Cyhan rearranged himself to lie flat on the ground. The grinding pain told him his collarbone was seriously out of alignment again, but he was helpless to correct it himself. Nor did he have the resolve to request assistance doing so. Harold’s remarks had helped his spirit, but his physical pain was still overwhelming. “It should have been me,” he said aloud, to no one in particular.
More footsteps announced the arrival of a new visitor, and by their lightness he could guess it was a she. The direction was suspicious however, for the sound came from upwind. Elaine appeared close by, and he realized she had learned from his embarrassing remarks earlier, approaching from a direction that was unlikely to give her away.
“How long were you listening?” he asked.
“Not long,” she lied. “I just heard you swearing when he pulled on your arm.”
Cyhan hadn’t really expected a truthful answer, so he accepted the lie. It was simpler than inviting a discussion. “I don’t suppose you can do something about this?” he asked, indicating his shoulder and arm.
“I can,” she said, “If you can bear it.”
“Been awhile since anyone asked me that question.”
She let out a breath in mock exasperation, “You were supposed to ask how much it would hurt.”
“Been awhile since I cared,” he added gruffly, though in truth he was far past his limit already.
“It won’t hurt at all. I can block the nerves before I begin,” she answered, giving up her attempt at humor.
Cyhan gave her a rare smile, a subtle indicator of just how much her response had improved his mood. His actual words were as stubborn as ever though, “Just make sure everything still works when you’re done.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Elaine put one hand on his chest as she began seeking out the proper nerves to block before realigning and fusing his broken bones. “Don’t worry, I had a good teacher,” she said mildly.
***
Ariadne Lancaster had had better days, and she deeply hoped that the next day would be one of them, but she had her doubts. She stood in a small clearing that was currently serving as her meeting chamber. They had no chairs, so everyone stood, which was just as well since there was no table to sit at.
“How will the Kriteck distinguish between friend and foe?” asked the Countess pointedly.
“We have agreed that they will ignore all human combatants, and non-combatants for that matter,” explained the new queen. “They will concern themselves with nullifying the activities of the ‘god-seeds’. They will also attempt to protect us if Mal’goroth should appear, though it is doubtful if that will be possible.”
“Which means?” asked Chad Grayson. The master hunter had been the de facto leader of most of the civilian refugees until they had merged with the survivors from Arundel.
“If Mal’goroth shows himself, we are probably dead,” she admitted.
“We have three of the Shining Gods with us, a dragon, five wizards, and a bizarre army of extinct creatures, and we can’t face one Dark God?” he asked argumentatively. As usual he utterly forgot to include the honorific, ‘Your Majesty’.
“In a nutshell,” she said brusquely, “yes.”
The huntsman seemed mollified by her direct answer, so Walter used the pause as an opportunity to ask his own question. “You still haven’t discussed your strategy for this battle, Your Majesty.”
Ariadne directed her gaze at him, and her confidence radiated outward. “In part, that is because I need information regarding your capabilities. Up until now, you or one of your two children have kept the illusion operating that protects this camp. How many of you will be able to participate in our assault?”
“Just two, Your Majesty, unless you wish us to give up our attempts to hide the camp,” he answered promptly.
“It is tempting,” she said thoughtfully. “A major part of the reason for this is to acquire supplies, and a better place to house our people. If we succeed, this camp will be abandoned.”
Sir Harold arrived then but had heard the previous remarks as he approached. “Your pardon, Majesty, but I think we should maintain the secrecy of the camp. If we make our attack and encounter unforeseen problems, we will lose any hope of
retreat or recourse. Also, any counter attack could be directed at the civilians remaining here. The illusion will be their only defense in our absence.”
“Shouldn’t we wait another day before we attack? This plan seems very hasty,” suggested Stephen Balistair.
Harold nodded his head, “I think we all would prefer that, but unfortunately we are out of time. Walter can confirm that.”
Walter nervously agreed, “Some of these people have been living in the woods for over a week now. We’ve almost run out of food, and we are far lower on other essentials.”
“We can still hunt,” said Stephen, looking in Chad’s direction.
The huntsman made an irritated face. He didn’t like being put on the spot. “Sorry, Yer Lordship, these woods can’t feed so many, and more importantly we’re out of water. Unless we plan to move down to the river and expose ourselves, we’re out of options.”
“You’re a disagreeable rascal aren’t you?” retorted Stephen, irritated at the hunter’s direct manner.
Chad’s eyes narrowed, “I said, ‘Yer Lordship’, what more do you want?!”
“It’s your tone I object to,” shot back Stephen, “and the fact that you neglected to use any honorific at all with the Queen a moment ago.”
“Silence,” commanded Ariadne abruptly. “We can ill afford to fight here. Lord Stephen, I will worry about my own honor and you would do well to pay less heed to yours, at least until this day’s work is done.” The hunter shook his finger at Stephen while the Queen spoke, unable to restrain himself, though he kept his tongue. Without looking in his direction, Ariadne continued, “Master Grayson, you would be wise not to test my patience.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace,” answered the hunter hastily. Penny leaned in to whisper in his ear and he amended his statement, “I mean, Your Majesty.”
Ariadne acknowledged the apology with a faint nod before moving on, “Sir Harold, how do the men fare?”
“Awkwardly, Your Majesty. I have Sir Egan, Sir William, and Sir Thomas working with them at the moment, helping them to acclimate to their new strength. Once we finish here I will rejoin them, and I hope that Sir Cyhan will soon be able to assist as well,” he responded quickly.