War God's Will

by Matthew P Gilbert

  The stranger pressed the shard hard enough to draw a thin bead of blood from Maranath’s neck. “I could say the same to you, old man.”

  Maranath knew he should, by all rights, be afraid, or at least concerned, but the only emotion he could process was cold fury: at his attacker, at Maklin for being caught off guard, and at Lothrian, who seemed to be standing slack jawed and doing nothing useful at all. Maranath looked his enemy in the eye with a piercing glare and muttered, “Then we are at an impasse.”

  Chapter 17

  Schooled

  Caelwen knelt in silence for long moments, uncertain if he and his companions were next, or if for the moment, the Great Tyrant’s rage was sated. He hazarded a glance at the sorcerer, certain his fear was written all over his face.

  Tasinal placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. “Get up, idiot. I have no tolerance for kneelers.” He raised an eyebrow imperiously, then lowered it again as his face fell in disappointment. He gestured at Caelwen’s face and shoulder wound. “Mei, you’re a mess.”

  Caelwen ground his teeth and clutched at his wound as he rose to his feet, nettled by the barb despite his fear. “Well, you’re definitely a Meite.”

  “Amazing, the wit on you. Have you considered a comedy act?”

  Tasinal’s gaze wandered to the pile of corpses, his face wrinkling in annoyance. He waved a hand at the offending bodies. Caelwen grimaced at the wet, ripping sound that followed, as the corpses, gore and all, tore themselves from the floor in a large mass and went flying out of the entrance. He bit back a wave of nausea as the door slid silently back into place, leaving the small entryway secure and spotless.

  Tasinal seemed to suddenly notice Ahmed. “An Ilawehan,” he said, one eyebrow raised high. “Somewhat surprising.”

  “We call ourselves Xanthians, now,” Ahmed volunteered.

  Tasinal grunted. “I was not consulted. In my home, you are still Ilawehan.”

  Ahmed laughed out loud, which seemed to be the correct answer. Tasinal offered him a broad grin, then lowered his gaze to Rithard, who was in process of regaining his feet. “And what is... this?”

  Rithard scowled and dusted himself off. “Rithard of House Amrath,” he groused. “I’m just fine, thank you for asking.”

  Tasinal’s eyebrows rose. “One of Amrath’s get, eh? I should have expected it. You’re not even a Meite, but here you are tempting fate. So you found the emergency key. How did you manage to work out the password?”

  “It was a trivial thing.”

  Tasinal scowled. “Yes, just the sort of thing he would have claimed, and every bit the same audacious lie.”

  As Rithard opened his mouth, Caelwen prepared for the worst, then sighed with relief as Rithard simply said, “Perhaps.”

  “You don’t look a bit like him, you know, save for that hideous smirk,” Tasinal said, his voice considerably more severe than he was able to make his face, as his mouth twitched at the edges. “I suppose that damned key counts as an invitation, so killing the lot of you would be poor form. Come in, have a seat, and please try not to bleed on the furniture, hmm?”

  Tasinal led them down what Caelwen now realized was a foyer, and into a large reception room. The place was richly decorated with fine tapestries showing exploits of the founders, and the furniture was exquisitely crafted from a dark wood that Caelwen did not recognize, though it certainly looked expensive. A great wooden table and chairs, the sort where a king might hold a war council, occupied the center of the room. Light seemed to glow from the ceiling, though he saw no source of flame.

  Rithard, medical bag in hand, snapped his fingers in front of Caelwen’s face and gestured to the flagstone floor. “Let’s plug that leak, shall we?”

  Tasinal and Ahmed took seats at the table and looked on with interest as Caelwen lay down on the floor and let Rithard get to his business. Caelwen winced as Rithard poured what felt to be flesh-melting acid into the wound. “Mei, watch it! I’m not a corpse like you’re used to working with!”

  Rithard frowned as he began threading a needle. “Hold still, ape. No major damage here, but you’ll need stitching.”

  Tasinal turned to Ahmed and asked, “Are they always like this?”

  Ahmed chuckled. “Yes.”

  Caelwen endured both the manhandling from Rithard and the snickering from Tasinal with gritted teeth. Rithard was actually quick about his work, for which Caelwen was thankful, even if it hurt a bit more. I have no idea how long it will be before our host decides he wants us out of here, so we had best get to business. He got to his feet quickly and took a chair next to Ahmed.

  Tasinal, it seemed, agreed. As soon as Caelwen was settled, the sorcerer clapped his hands together as if to draw the attention of unruly children, and said, “Now that we’ve shored up the breaches, what was it you wanted?”

  Rithard, stowing his gear back into his bag, answered in a sour tone, “Oh, nothing much. Just to save the world from Elgar’s wrath.”

  Tasinal raised an eyebrow. “Oh, my. It’s been that long? One loses track of time.”

  “It must be very difficult for you.”

  Tasinal’s eyebrows knitted together into a tight wedge, and his eyes narrowed with displeasure. “You’ll find this conversation even more difficult without your tongue.” Tasinal paused a moment, as if to verify that Rithard was sufficiently cowed by his threat, before continuing. “Amrath should have left all we knew in the papers. Mei, you figured out the damned key, so you’re no fool. Why disturb me?”

  Rithard shot Tasinal an odd look. “How would you know I even have access to them? I thought you’d lost track of time.”

  Tasinal scowled at Rithard. “It would seem this may take longer than I had hoped, so join us.” He gestured toward the table. “As for the rest…” He shrugged. “So I keep my own counsel. That makes two of us. I suspect my reasons for doing so are considerably more thought out than yours.”

  Rithard took a seat and propped his elbows on the table, a sour look on his face. “Fair enough. Yes, I have the papers, and I see nothing of the sort. I see clues and hints, but key information is missing. I presumed he deliberately created it as a puzzle to discourage meddling.”

  Tasinal again rolled his eyes. “Imbecile! Why would he do that? ‘Oh, my, here’s information about the end of the world, let’s make it a fucking puzzle to amuse ourselves with. It will be great fun when they fail to work it out!’” Tasinal feigned spitting on the floor. “Idiocy. He left clear instructions.”

  Rithard blinked several times in confusion. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Someone removed the information, obviously.”

  Rithard thought on this a moment, nodding slowly. “I have seen evidence that some things were removed, but I had no way of knowing how much. But surely you can tell us what we need to know, then?”

  Tasinal heaved a great sigh. “Hence the emergency plan, but in truth I am not terribly clever like Amrath. Oh, I can crack skulls with the best of them, and I am stubborn, but I have only rudimentary understanding of the forces at work here.” He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I didn’t need to, you know. I was only ‘leader’ because Amrath thought I had the most regal features. He said it would play well with the masses.”

  Caelwen felt his heart sink at this. If he doesn’t know what to do, we’re doomed! But he had questioned many a witness before, and things were not always black and white about knowledge. “Your eminence—”

  Tasinal shot him a glare. “What did you call me?”

  Caelwen felt a chill in his guts. I have no idea if I am about to die. He stammered briefly, then managed to blurt out, “I’m sorry. I have no idea of the proper form of address.”

  Tasinal rapped his knuckles sharply on the table. “That’s the trouble with you weaklings. You place so much emphasis on trivia: noble blood, courtly manners, backstabbing and treachery. It’s why you make a mess of ruling yourselves, and it’s why I eventually threw up my hands at the whole affair.”


  He leaned forward and beckoned Caelwen closer, as if he were going to impart a secret. “The fact that I once called myself emperor is of no consequence. The fact that I could end your life with a thought is more significant.” He focused intently on Caelwen, almost but not quite sneering. “I would be treated as you would treat any other warrior you knew was your superior: directly, without coddling. Am I clear?”

  Caelwen stiffened, but found the rebuke actually made him more comfortable. This, he understood. He rose from his chair, offered Tasinal a salute, then shifted to a parade rest stance and continued, “Sir, Rithard is the most clever man I have ever met. He’s amazing with his ability to put together disparate pieces of information and solve crimes. You may know more than you think, if he asks the right questions.”

  Tasinal raised an eyebrow and regarded Caelwen briefly, then turned back to Rithard. “Let’s see if he’s correct, hmm? Ask your questions, and be quick about it. I do have things to do, you know.” He looked back at Caelwen briefly, as if in afterthought, and gestured for Caelwen to sit.

  Rithard’s lips twitched, and Caelwen suppressed the urge to groan out loud as he took his seat again. Fortunately, Rithard seemed to find the sense to leave it at that, and simply asked, “What was meant by ‘the blood is more potent than we feared’?”

  Tasinal grinned. “I simply must know what you thought it meant before I tell you.”

  Rithard frowned a moment before answering, “I presumed it had to do with heredity.”

  Tasinal laughed aloud, and looked about, seeming surprised that he was the only one who got the joke. He turned back to Rithard and grew serious. “It explodes.”

  Ahmed found himself as confused as Rithard. Rithard stammered briefly, “I’m sorry, I don’t—what?”

  “The blood. In the Black Pool. It explodes. Violently.” He emphasized the point by tapping a finger on the table. “A thimble full of the stuff could take out half the city if properly charged and triggered.”

  Ilaweh is great! The Black Pool!

  Rithard shook his head, still confused, and started to speak again, but Ahmed interrupted. “In Torium.”

  Tasinal turned quickly to Ahmed, eyes wide in surprise. “Yes! How could you know that?” His surprise turned to a scowl as he gestured at Rithard. “And why spoil my fun toying with this one?”

  Ahmed shrugged. “I meant no offense. I only just realized I understood. I have seen it in visions.”

  Tasinal’s eyebrows rose, and he offered a knowing nod. “You have the sight, yes?”

  “Aye.”

  Tasinal paused a moment, drumming his fingers against a table, then seemed to come to a decision. “I have something for you later.” He turned back to Rithard. “Go on.”

  Rithard cleared his throat and asked his next question. “You say ‘properly charged and triggered’. What does that mean?”

  “Yorn said we would need to reassemble the artifact. It’s all one thing, you know: the eyes, the head, and there’s a body down there somewhere, too. The Torians used it to suck the power right out of a god.” Tasinal reached toward Rithard’s chest, then snatched it back and made a slurping sound. “Some in the pool, some in the pieces, some in the body.”

  Rithard blinked in confusion, but Ahmed groaned softly. “Ilaweh is great. You speak of the Eye of the Lion, yes?”

  Tasinal cast a disgusted glance at Rithard. “Why am I even talking to you?” He grinned at Ahmed. “Yes, exactly. You know of it?”

  “All too well,” Ahmed answered. He reached under his shirt and produced the piece of the eye he carried.

  Tasinal’s eyes grew wide at the sight of it. “Here?” he gasped. He quickly recovered and reached out his hand. “May I?”

  Ahmed gave him a wary glance, then shrugged and lifted the thong from his neck and handed the piece to Tasinal. “I worry, but then, you had this before, I think. It feels of you.”

  Tasinal examined the small half-head, turning it over in his hands. “I carried it for some time, actually. Until I threw it into the ocean. How did you come by it?”

  Ahmed shook his head. “It came by me. I died. It brought me back.”

  Tasinal shot Ahmed a piercing look. “Who paid the price?”

  “A heathen and blasphemer, who saw the truth in his last moments.”

  Tasinal handed the piece back, a haggard look on his face. “Live long enough, young ones, and your regrets may come to outweigh your accomplishments.”

  Ahmed noticed Caelwen eyeing Rithard with concern. The physician was once again looking feverish. Before Ahmed could speak, Caelwen called to his friend, “Rithard?”

  Rithard ignored him and turned to Tasinal, eyes blazing and face pale. “How big is the black pool?”

  Tasinal gave him an odd look, as if finding the question pointless, but answered anyway. “About ten feet across I should say. Three feet high? That sounds about right.”

  Rithard, brow furrowed in thought, licked his lips. “Fifteen hundred gallons, or thereabouts, maybe more if it were full to the brim.” He swallowed hard, and for a moment, Ahmed thought Rithard would throw up or swoon, but somehow he held it together. “Just over a million thimblefuls, I should wager, depending on the size of the thimble.”

  Even Tasinal seemed struck dumb at this. For long moments, no one spoke as they absorbed the implications. At last, Ahmed broke the silence, “Ilaweh is great. That is the prophecy.”

  Tasinal shook his head vehemently. “Are you sure of the math?”

  Rithard grunted. “Of course not! I have no idea how much a thimbleful really is, and no idea if it would really level a city.” He waved his hands about in excitement and frustration. “Is your estimate high or low? How big of a city are we talking about?” Rithard dropped his hands and gripped the edge of the table hard enough that his knuckles went white. “If you’re even close right, it would release an unimaginable amount of energy!”

  Caelwen took a deep breath before speaking. “Rithard, are you telling us this thing could blow up the whole world?”

  Rithard shrugged. “I have no idea. I doubt it. But anything is possible. This is beyond the scale of any science I ever studied.” He paused a moment, lips pressed together in concentration. “It would surely kill a lot of people, maybe even everyone on the continent.”

  Tasinal cleared his throat, his mouth twisting as if he had eaten something sour. “It is, then, worse than you imagine. Worse than you can imagine, I’ll wager. Do you understand what ley lines are?”

  Caelwen shrugged, and one look at Rithard was enough to see he, too, had no idea. Ahmed nodded, knowing full well what Tasinal meant.

  “Well, for the benefit of our two ignorant savages,” Tasinal said, “Ley lines are mystical lines of energy that permeate the globe. The structure of the ground itself conforms to them. You can see them if you know what to look for.”

  Ahmed added, “They are the places where the world fits together.”

  Tasinal rapped his knuckles on the table, grinning. “Just so!” His features bunched together in an expression of disapproval, as if he smelled something unpleasant. “They are also potent sources and channels for certain schools of magic. It’s not something Meites meddle with. It’s strictly Torian school, but they can travel and communicate along them, produce effects from one end to the other, all sorts of black arts. I have heard they can create earthquakes, even.”

  Rithard rubbed at his chin. “And what have they to do with this?”

  Tasinal gave him a grim stare. “Torium sits atop the largest conjunction of ley lines on the planet. It’s the reason they built the place where they did. They wanted access to them.” He looked down at the floor and shook his head. “Releasing that much energy into them would have catastrophic results.”

  Another long silence followed. Caelwen asked, at last, “So, this could, in fact, blow up the world?”

  Tasinal nodded. “Which changes things immensely. Generally, I couldn’t care less about what happens to the vast majority of
fools and weaklings. They could all die and I would barely notice, much less care. However, I have a vested interest in the existence of the planet.” He rose and swept an arm toward them, for the moment seeming the emperor he had once called himself. “If you have preparations, make them. We’re going to Torium to settle this, and woe be unto anyone who gets in my way!”

  Ahmed realized with a start that he must have nodded off. It was a mad notion, considering the topic, and yet there was no other explanation. Tasinal had been at the head of the table before, and was now standing just to the right of it, yet Ahmed had not seen him move.

  Tasinal’s mood had changed, too. “After due consideration, perhaps that is not the best course of action.”

  Rithard clapped both hands to the sides of his head. “What?”

  Tasinal dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure you’ll sort it out just fine.”

  “That’s insane! You must be the world’s most powerful sorcerer, and you can’t be bothered to prevent the planet you live on from blowing up?”

  Tasinal’s glare was the sort of look one gave his intended victims before giving in fully to mayhem. “There are factors you don’t understand. Believe me, I have given this ample consideration.”

  For a moment, Rithard could only stammer. “Do you actually understand the meaning of the word ‘ample’, or does it just sound interesting to you? You’ve just contradicted yourself in the space of seconds. There is nothing ‘ample’ about it!”

  Tasinal began rubbing at his temple, as if he were nursing a headache. “As I said, there are things you don’t appreciate.”

  “I appreciate the world will explode. How is that not enough?”

  Tasinal sat in his chair and buried his face in his hands. “One would think so, wouldn’t he?”

  Rithard was either out of words or using silence as a stratagem, and Ahmed saw no reason to make himself a target, whichever was the case. He was, therefore, rather surprised to find himself the subject of Tasinal’s interest despite his best efforts to avoid it. Tasinal dropped his hands and fixed Ahmed with a piercing stare. “Ilawehan, what did you say your name was?”