Chapter Fifty
Home to Vanador
Dreams are hard. You have little control over them, and they make you take life too seriously. Dreams that commandeer your memories are even worse, because sometimes my experience of my hosts involved their own dreams. Dreaming of someone who is dreaming is an easy way to madness.
But eventually you awaken from your dreams. And eventually I did, else I wouldn’t be telling you this.
I first realized that I wasn’t asleep anymore when my eyes opened and I knew I was in a strange room, not a phantom memory. My feet were cold – both feet. The ceiling above was new to me. The bed wasn’t my own – but it wasn’t the metal and plastic infirmary bed.
The faint aroma of spirits, ammonia and dried blood told me I was in a medical facility. Henga, I realized. I was at Lilastien’s hospital. My mind was still dull, but I could tell that this was real. I could also smell food, I realized. And then I realized that I was starving.
“Welcome back,” I heard a familiar female voice say – not Alya or Lilastien, but Pentandra’s. I turned my head toward it and blinked.
“Water?” I asked when I realized my throat was parched. Pentandra nodded and poured some from a pitcher into a copper cup, and then held it to my lips. I drank it gratefully, draining the entire thing in a few swallows.
“No more, just yet,” she said, when it was gone. “Let it settle. I’ve sent for Lilastien,” she informed me.
“Alya?” One-word questions were the best I could manage at the moment.
“She’s eating, and then, hopefully getting some sleep. She’s exhausted. She’s been by your side day and night, until Lilastien makes her go eat and sleep. Your children are well and healthy, and safely at Spellgarden. Alya has seen them,” she added.
I nodded, feeling the water make its way into my woefully empty stomach.
“You got here five days ago,” Pentandra reported, as she re-filled the cup. “Quite unexpectedly. And you looked like death when you arrived. You’ve been in a magically induced coma for the last four of them. Lilastien said you were poisoned. She cast the curing charm, but it was . . . it was very close, Min. I actually thought you might die.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Stabbed.”
“In the back, no less, with a poisoned blade wielded by an assassin. I suppose you know a little of what I’ve been going through, now. In any case, you’re healing. The poison is neutralized, and the spells she’s got on you are healing the damage. It will be slow, probably painful, and there may be lingering effects, but you’re cured. The paralysis is receding. You should make a full recovery.”
I nodded, sighing in relief.
“I’ve heard what happened in Anghysbel – or at least a summary of what happened. Congratulations. You found Ameras, opened her vault, opened the Cave of the Ancients, and probably saved everyone in that valley. You even found that sensitive glass material you wanted.”
“Busy summer,” I agreed. “Water?”
“All right,” she said, with a sigh of resignation, and held the cup to my lips again. “Slowly,” she warned. It felt even better on my tongue this time, and I could speak a little more clearly.
“What did I miss?” I managed to croak.
Pentandra looked at me sharply. “It has been a busy summer,” she agreed. “Eventful. And I have a lot to tell you. Are you ready to hear? Or would you prefer going back to sleep? You’re still quite weak.”
“I’m all right,” I insisted. “Tell me.” Words were getting easier in my mouth, now.
She considered thoughtfully. “Well, when you left . . . things got messy.”
“Ashakarl?” I asked, figuring our truce had broken down. That didn’t concern me, much. It had been a weak truce to begin with.
“No, surprisingly our treaty with the Goblin King stands. His last human slaves have been making their way here all summer.”
“Karakush?” I asked, struggling to remember the Nemovort’s name.
“Among others. I warn you; this just gets worse as I tell it. Let’s see,” she said, ticking the crises off on her fingers, “there is a violent, bloody peasant uprising in the Westlands. There’s an unpleasant new divinity appearing in conjunction with it. It’s spread to western Gilmora, now. Karakush is likely behind its spread.”
That was alarming. No one wanted a peasant rebellion.
“Where’s Terleman?” I asked. He was the marshal of the county. It would be up to him to defend the realm until I was feeling better.
“Terleman? He’s in Gilmora, now, encamped outside of Barrowbell.”
“Guarding?” I asked, trying to keep my questions short.
“No, actually, he’s besieging it. Or about to. You see, we’re at war, Min,” she confessed, guiltily. “We’re at war with a confederation of Castali and Gilmoran counts, unofficially led by Tavard.”
That was shocking news. My forehead wrinkled. Somehow, that hurt.
“How?” I demanded.
“It wasn’t our fault, exactly,” she said, thoughtfully. “After you sent the Gilmorans home after the last war, I figured they’d learned not to interfere with the Magelaw. But Prince Tavard wasn’t done. There was a . . . a conflict in Astyral’s barony.
“It started simply enough, the week you left. A couple of petty noblewomen arguing over their inheritance. Both insisted they were the same person and entitled to the entire estate. Only the one who held it was married to a well-connected knight from southern Gilmora. His family took exception, considered Astyral’s judgement illegitimate because he’s a mage, and attacked Astyral’s barony for him even hearing the case. A few of Astyral’s vassals rebelled, too, and he felt compelled to answer them.
“So, he hired Wenek and the Pearwoods clans to raid Gilmora. Not just over the frontier, like usual, but they used the Ways to sneak them into the southern regions, in the very lands of the offended family. Then the southern counts came to their vassals’ defense, Tavard gave them his support, and they tried to march an army into Astyral’s barony.
“Astyral took exception to that. He declared war on them, they declared war on him, and Tavard started throwing his weight around the royal court. Within days, Terleman was in the field – with my guidance – when he and his army were attacked from the Castali Wilderlands. Terleman struck back . . . and kept striking. He defeated three baronies in three days’ time. And he just kept going until he got to Barrowbell.”
“Ishi’s tits!” I moaned.
“It gets worse,” Pentandra said, grimly. “He’s conquering Gilmora . . . in Alshar’s name. Actually, in the name of the Magelaw. That stirred a nest of hornets in Castal. Prince Tavard responded by suspending the Great Charter. That was a bit shortsighted of him, because when he tried expelling the Alshari pilgrims in Castal, that included several thousand Kasari in Kasar.”
I winced. “Slaughtered?” I asked, not wanting to know the answer.
“No, surprisingly they declined to resist. They marched peacefully out of Kasar and toward the Alshari frontier when they had the bright idea of capturing Wilderhall. Which they did. In your name.”
I moaned. “How?”
“Because they’re Kasari and they were offended by the expulsion, and after the Great March they have a lot of loyalty to you,” she explained. “They had support from some mercenaries. So, they took Wilderhall. They took it by stealth with very little bloodshed. But they took the Princess prisoner.” I moaned again.
“It gets worse,” she said, shaking her head. “When Tavard opened the gates to Darkfaller to send forth his armies to meet the evil warmagi invading Gilmora, he had a score of high magi at his command. Not renegades. Mercenaries. From the Knights of Nablus.” I groaned. “Exactly,” she nodded. “Your prince has employed a powerful and prominent political opponent of the kingdom to try to undermine your power.
“Only, it didn’t work out that way. Once Darkfaller’s armies were in the field . . . Karakush took it. A band of Nemovorti and Enshadowed captured it.
It’s full of maragorku and siege beasts and undead, now. And it’s near the heart of the kingdom. Now Tavard’s biggest and greatest army is between Terlemen at Barrowbell and the dark armies at Darkfaller.
“The king is livid,” she continued, starting to pace. “Tavard is scrambling to figure out how to simultaneously fight Terleman at Barrowbell and retake the strongest fortress in Castal when his best army is threatened by both. The Westlands are in chaos – I have Mavone there, now. And Sandoval and Azar prepare to ride south to reinforce Terleman, while Carmella prepares for an extended war.”
“It’s not done being worse, yet,” she warned. “This summer, the Farisians have used their augmented naval forces to actively raid the Castali and Remeran coastlands. As well as all the commercial shipping. They’re being very bold about it, too, and using High Magi liberally in their attacks. The Black Censorate. To make matters worse, Merwyn has encouraged its lords to invade northern Remere, in an effort to separate Wenshar and Remere. They’ve put the remainder of the Knights of Nablus at their disposal, as well as ten thousand paid mercenaries, and they’re making progress.”
I groaned expressively.
“Oh, no, it gets worse,” she promised, her hands folded nervously over her chest. “Much worse. Because while we’re now facing a naval war with Farise, a land war with Merwyn, and civil war in Gilmora and the Castali Wilderlands, Karakush is leading the enemy’s fight in the Westlands. But his . . . partner now commands Darkfaller, as of two weeks ago. A name you’re familiar with: Mycin Amana.”
“How?” I gasped.
“Lady Fallawen’s home was raided, and Mycin Amana’s prison was broken by the raiders. Korbal’s consort escaped, though not before Fallawen nearly killed her and certainly disfigured her. But she’s found a new body. Also, one you’re familiar with. Intimately. Isily of Greenflower.”
Each new revelation hit me like a blow, as my mind struggled to adjust to the news. It was akin to one of my chaotic dreams, only far too detailed and unexpected for that. Even my subconscious isn’t that sick.
“Mycin has declared herself Queen of Castabriel, in Korbal’s name, and has declared that she will retake the city. She’s been sending threatening messages to court for a week. She’s building an army at Darkfaller to do just that – with a lot of undead. She’s taking control of the countryside and expanding the region she controls every day. The peasants get a simple demand: absolute obedience or join the army of undead.”
“Dear gods!” I managed, in despair.
“They have been mercifully absent, in all of this – all save that new one in the Westlands. She likes to burn her enemies alive, and she considers all nobility her enemy, or something like that. I think she’s getting assistance from Karakush, somehow – that’s what Mavone is looking into.
“But the fact of the matter is that in the brief seven weeks you were gone, Minalan, the entire chamberpot got tipped over,” she sighed. “I’ve been doing the best I can to manage things, but I’m not the Spellmonger. I’m a baroness, and Duke Anguin wants me, personally, to stay out of this because of my active role in the Ducal Court. He and Rardine think if Alshar stays quiet, there will be opportunities later downstream. I can’t help but agree with them,” she admitted.
“The king is demanding an emergency meeting of the Royal Court, as soon as you return,” she continued. “I’ve been stalling him and might be able to stall him one more week. But Tavard is demanding a reckoning. He counts you responsible for Terleman, for Darkfaller, for Wilderhall, for the Farisian pirates and the Merwyni invasion. All of it. And he’s got most of Castal ready to march on the Magelaw, because its full of evil wizards.”
“Damn it, Penny,” I said, softly, my head falling back in the pillow. “Damn it. I was only gone for a few weeks!”
“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “And I apologize. I had no idea things would go this poorly, this quickly. We have war all over the kingdom, now. Against an impressive array of enemies. But we’re strong, we’re smart, and we have magic. And we have our Spellmonger back to lead us to victory.
“I’m just glad you didn’t die,” she revealed, sincerely. “All sorts of horrible things could have happened if you died. That was my biggest worry. But you didn’t die, you came back,” she said, with visible relief. “Welcome back. Hope you had a good holiday. Now you have work to do.”
“Actually, I did die,” I admitted. “My heart stopped. Lilastien said I was clinically dead for over four minutes, before she brought me back.”
Pentandra just stared at me for a long time – far longer than I would have thought necessary. Her mouth was slightly agape, and I expected at least a bit of sympathy from her over revealing I had died and come back from the dead. Usually that sort of achievement merits some sort of sympathetic reaction.
But Penny just stared at me, until she closed her mouth with visible effort.
“You . . . died?” she asked.
“Just a little,” I nodded. “Four minutes’ worth. I got better.”
“Oh, Minalan,” she said, shaking her head – in suppressed anger, not relief. “You had to go and die.”
“It really wasn’t up to me,” I pointed out.
“You really know how to muck things up, you know?” she finally said, after staring at me far too long. She picked up her baculus and her bag. She seemed mad at me. For dying. Or coming back from the dead. Either way, her reaction was confusing.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m going to go get Alya and tell her you’re awake. Then I’m going to send a bunch of messages by Mirror Array. Then I’m going to see a hedgewitch. Because you couldn’t control yourself, and just had to die.”
“And come back,” I reminded her.
“Yes. That was very noble of you,” she said, with a note of disgust in her voice. Then she hung her head wearily and sighed. “We’ll get through this,” she promised. “The war, the chaos, the renegade gods, we’ll get through all of that. I just wish you hadn’t died. That . . . complicates things.”
With that, she left, leaving me incredibly confused. And outrageously hungry.
The End
Look for the next exciting volume of the Spellmonger Series: Book 14, Hedgewitch, in late 2021!
You may write the author at [email protected] or at the following address:
Terry Mancour
PO Box 11
Rougemont, NC 27572
Appendix A: Lilastien’s Discography
Partial, in Alphabetical Order
A Little Less Conversation, Elvis Presley
A Taste Of Honey, Herb Alpert
Almost Like Being In Love, Nat King Cole
As Time Goes By, Perry Como
Bernie’s Tune, Buddy Rich & Gene Krupa
Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, Doris Day
Blue Hawaii, Elvis Presley
Blue Moon, Julie London
Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, Andrews Sisters
Caldonia, Louis Jordan
Can’t Help Falling In Love, Elvis Presley
Caravan, Dizzy Gillespie
Chattanooga Choo-Choo, Glenn Miller
Cry Me A River, Julie London
Dream A Little Dream of Me, Julie London
Fascinating Rhythm, Oscar Peterson
Fly Me To The Moon, Frank Sinatra
Gone Fishin’, Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby
Great Balls Of Fire, Jerry Lee Lewis
How High The Moon, Ella Fitzgerald
I Ain’t Got Nobody, Louis Prima
I’m In The Mood For Love, Julie London
I’ve Got Spurs That Jingle Jangle Jingle, Gene Autry
In the Mood, Andrews Sisters
In The Summertime, Mungo Jerry
In A Gadda Da Vida, Iron Butterfly
It’s Been A Long, Long Time, Bing Crosby
Journey Of The Sorcerer, The Eagles
Living In The Past, Jethro Tull
Love Is Like A Butterfly, Dolly Patron
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Moon River, Perry Como
Moonlight Serenade, Glenn Miller
Never Gonna Give You Up, Rick Astley
On Moonlight Bay, Doris Day
On The Road Again, Willy Nelson
One Of Those Things, Frank Sinatra
So Rare, Jimmy Dorsey
Someone To Watch Over Me, Doris Day, Frank Sinatra
Summer Wind, Frank Sinatra
Summertime, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald
Take Me Home, Country Roads, John Denver
Tuxedo Junction, Glenn Miller
Viva Las Vegas, Elvis Presley
What A Wonderful World, Louis Armstrong
What Does A Woman Do? Doris Day
When I Grow Too Old To Dream, Nat King Cole
When You Wish Upon A Star, Glenn Miller
Witchcraft, Frank Sinatra
Woodchopper’s Ball, Woody Herman, Joey Bishop
You Don't Have to Know the Language, Bing Crosby
Young At Heart, Frank Sinatra
Appendix B: Promotional Brochure
Footwizard Page 75