Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  Still, it was going to slow them down tremendously. It would probably take four entire days to push everyone through this tiny funnel. The whole campaign was going more slowly than he had hoped, but it was still going well. The destruction of Gira seemed to be having the desired effect, too. Five days ago, the small port city of Usedam had surrendered to Zarruk. It was obvious that most of the richer inhabitants had fled by sea before the army arrived, but those who were left had piled up an impressive mound of loot outside the walls, along with a thousand young women, roped together and wailing their despair. The warriors, sated with the excesses at Gira, had been in a charitable mood. The city was not burned, nor any of its citizens killed—but they had taken the loot and the women. Zarruk left a small garrison behind, and the rest of the army had moved on.

  Atark looked ahead and saw Zarruk and his escort waiting in a wider space along the road. When Atark came abreast, he started forward and rode alongside. “Hail Zarruk! My men wonder when we shall be free of these cursed trees.”

  “They are depressing, aren’t they?” replied Zarruk, who did not seem nearly as bothered by the woods as Atark. “A dark and gloomy land, this is. I can see why few people live here. Unfortunately, I understand that there are many such places in the east.”

  “Hopefully, we can avoid most of them.”

  “We shall try, but there is no way to avoid this one. To go around would take weeks and require us to cross the river over yonder at least twice. In any case, the enemy lies ahead of us along this route.”

  “Indeed? Are they near?”

  “Not so near, but our scouts have spotted the head of their army. Considering the delay this narrow road is costing us, I’d imagine we shall meet them in a week or so.”

  “Are there many of them?”

  “It is hard to say. Our scouts only saw the vanguard, but the rumors we have wrung from a few captives indicates that this is their main army.”

  “Excellent! We can finish this at a blow. If we crush them, the rest will not dare to oppose us. City after city will surrender.”

  “That is to be hoped. We will conquer this land as quickly as we can ride from city to city.”

  Atark felt a thrill go through him. All the long years of work and training were coming down to a single day perhaps a week away. Victory! The east could be well and truly crushed. And then? What will happen then?

  “I wish I knew, my friend,” said Zarruk. Atark started and then realized he had said that last question out loud.

  “Well, first things first. We have a battle to win.”

  * * * * *

  Jarren sat on his horse and watched the army preparing for battle. It was still two or three days away, but the amount of activity was breathtaking. Jarren was not a soldier and knew little about strategy or tactics, but even he could see why General DeSlizt had chosen this spot to fight the battle. The left of the army was firmly anchored on the Telensee River, and then its line ran along a four-mile ridge with its right on a dense forest that ran up into the hills. They could not be flanked, and the enemy would have to come straight at them.

  The infantry and artillery were laying out their battle positions along the ridge and then forming their camps a few hundred yards to the rear. White canvas tents in neat rows were springing up like mushrooms after a rain. This was the first time the whole army had been this closely packed, and it made a fantastic spectacle of martial strength. Jarren could not imagine how such a force could possibly be beaten.

  But he knew it could be beaten. The Kaifeng magic could beat them. His exhilaration at the sight of the army faded, to be replaced with dread. If they were beaten, would it be his fault? He knew that he had done a lot. He had found the wizards and done as much as anyone to bring them here and convince them to help. He’d discovered several of the most important clues in how to counter the Seekers. But had he done enough? Was there some simpler, more effective answer in one of those books he’d never had the time to get to? Was the answer waiting in some scroll that he’d passed up because he was too tired? Had his getting one extra hour of sleep meant the doom of everything he held dear? It was a ridiculous notion, but he could not put it out of his head. Have I done enough? Truly, he’d felt pretty useless for the last month. Ever since they left Zamerdan, really. He had been able to do very little additional research since leaving the estate. His only real function since then was seeing that the wizards had everything they needed to do their work. Somehow, that did not seem like enough.

  The sun dipped behind the hills to the west. Bugles rang out announcing the evening meal. He went back to his tent and ate a quiet meal with Gez. Unlike everyone else, Gez seemed to be having a wonderful time. It was all a great adventure to him. Jarren supposed that he would have felt the same way when he was that age. By the time he finished, it was quite dark. He got up and made his way to the tent where Lyni and the others were working. He wanted to make sure they had all eaten. Sometimes they forgot. He also wanted to see Lyni because…well, just because he wanted to see her.

  He walked past the guards and into the dimly lit tent. The three mages were all there, working away. He did spot a few plates with half-eaten food scattered about, so apparently they did have supper. Jarren watched as they cast their spells. He wished he could get some inkling of what they were doing!

  “Hello, Jarren,” said Idira as she finished her batch of powder and leaned back with a sigh.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Tired. More tired than I ever would have believed possible.”

  “Just a few more days. Hang on for a few more days.”

  “We will,” said Lyni finishing her own spell. She picked up a heaping bowl of powder and dumped it into a sack. She tied it shut and added it to a pile of other sacks—a large pile.

  “Wow, how much have you done today?”

  “A little over a hundred pounds, I think.”

  “That’s wonderful! You are getting better and better!”

  “Yes, I’m a bit surprised, myself.”

  “It is surprising,” said Hesseran who also leaned back with a sigh. “I’m beginning to see how the Kaifeng sorcerer has managed those great spells. He must have pushed and pushed himself for years the way we are pushing ourselves now. I’ve never gone through anything like this, and I’m amazed at how quickly our strength has grown. We are immunizing three or four times as much powder as I had expected.”

  “Practice makes perfect, I guess,” said Idira. “Maybe we just let ourselves get soft sitting back on the Island. If we really exerted ourselves, we might have achieved so much more.”

  “Well, you have achieved a lot. With what you have here, we’ll have nearly twenty rounds per man and four rounds per cannon. That’s a lot more than we had hoped. We’ll be able to fight a pitched battle and probably won’t need the older weapons at all.”

  “Well, just be careful with it,” said Lyni, indicating the stacks of powder behind her. “We can’t make much more if you squander this.”

  “Don’t worry, all the finished cartridges are under guard in four different locations. We’re treating it like gold.”

  “It’s worth more than any gold.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “Well, I was just coming by to make sure you had all eaten. I’ll let you work and be back later…”

  He turned as the flap opened and several people walked into the tent. All four of them cried out in alarm when they saw that one of the people was carrying an ordinary lantern.

  “Get out of here, you fool!” snarled Lyni. “Do you want to blow us all to bits?!”

  “Quiet!” snapped one of the intruders. There were five of them, all were wearing dark, hooded cloaks, and Jarren rocked back when he saw that two of them were holding pistols. “Quiet or you’ll be shot!”

  “Who are you? What do you want?” demanded Jarren in a quieter voice.

  “We are the servants of the gods! We are here to cleanse this den of heresy!” the man who had spoken steppe
d forward with the lantern and threw back his cloak. A shock of flaming red hair crowned his head, and Jarren realized he had seen this man before.

  “Brother Dominak!” The priest from the church’s Council of Purity had an expression of triumph on his face. “W-what are you going to do?”

  “We are going to destroy all of this demon-tainted powder and save the east!”

  “Are you crazy? Without the powder, the Kaifs will wipe us out! It’s our only chance!” Jarren looked around frantically. What had happened to the guards?

  “No!” said the priest. “If we use this powder, it will be our damnation. The gods have decreed that man shall not use magic. If we break that commandment to try and save ourselves, we shall be punished, just as the heretics were punished three hundred years ago!”

  “That’s insane!” cried Hesseran. “The Kaifeng are using magic, why don’t the gods punish them?”

  “They will, in time. But the gods are using the Kaifeng to test us. If we give in to the temptation of heresy in our desire to save ourselves, then we deserve to be swept away. No, we shall destroy this powder—and all the rest—and fight with sword and bow. If we pass this test, the gods will deal with the Kaifeng!” The man’s eyes glittered in the faint light, and with a chill, Jarren knew there was not the slightest hope of reasoning with him.

  “Bind them!” commanded Dominak. “They shall be consumed in the flames along with their heresy!” The two men with pistols pointed them menacingly, while a third came forward bearing shackles. Jarren was mustering his courage to resist when the fifth man suddenly spoke.

  “What are you doing? You said no one was to be harmed! Only the powder was to be destroyed!”

  Jarren gasped. He knew that voice!

  “Thaddius?” exclaimed Idira in astonishment. “Oh, Thad, how could you?”

  There was no doubt that it was the priest he had counted as his friend. How could he have betrayed them like this?

  “Don’t interfere, Brother Thaddius!” commanded Dominak. “You have sided with the gods up to now—don’t stumble at the end. The heretics must die!” One of the other men shifted slightly so he could cover Thaddius with his pistol as well as the others. The man with the shackles came forward. They were going to bind them here and blow them all up with the powder! Jarren looked for a weapon, any weapon…

  Suddenly, the tent flap opened and in trotted Gez. “Hey, Boss, you gonna need any—holy shit!”

  The men with the pistols turned for a moment, and in that instant, Lyni moved. Out of the corner of his eye, Jarren saw the young woman move, and a second later one of the men with pistols gurgled out a scream and clutched at the knife sticking in his throat. The other man immediately raised his pistol and pointed it at her.

  “No!” cried two voices in unison. One was Jarren’s, and in despair, he knew he could not possibly intervene like he had on the dock. He was too far away! But the other voice belonged to Thaddius, and he grabbed the man’s wrist and wrenched the pistol upward. There was a flash and a bang as it went off, and Jarren tensed as he expected the powder in the tent to explode.

  It didn’t, but the people in it seemed to. Suddenly everyone was shouting and screaming and scrambling. Gez grabbed the pistol from where the first man had dropped it and skipped away under one of the tables. The man with the shackles dropped them and went after Gez, but he was tackled by Hess and Lyni. Thaddius was wrestling with the other one. Jarren found himself opposite Dominak. The man’s face was twisted with rage, but he raised up the lantern.

  “So be it! Let the fire consume us all—and save the world!” he screamed. Then he hurled the lantern toward the stacked bags of gunpowder.

  Jarren leaped.

  He flung himself to the side, into the path of the lantern. It bounced off his outflung hands and hit him right in the chest. He hugged it to him as he crashed to the ground. The lantern shattered with the impact, driving shards of glass into him, but he put his full weight down on it anyway to try and snuff the flame. Another pain and a hiss and smell of burned flesh told him he had succeeded.

  “Bastard!” snarled Dominak “Fool! Traitor!” He snatched a small mace off his belt and took a step toward one of the safety lanterns. Jarren started to struggle to his feet.

  Suddenly there were more shouts, and Dominak whirled to meet a new rush of men into the tent. Colonel Krasner! Jarren watched, gape-mouthed, as the soldier thrust his sword through Dominak’s body. The priest stood there for a moment. The mace slipped from his hand and then he crumpled to the ground.

  “What in all the Nine Hells is going on?” snarled Krasner. There were other soldiers with him, and they had subdued the remaining priests.

  “The powder!” gasped Jarren. “They are trying to destroy the powder!”

  “Gods!” Krasner started snapping out orders and his men began rushing off. But before they had gone ten paces, there was a loud explosion in the distance and Jarren groaned. They were too late!

  Without really thinking, Jarren, unmindful of his injuries, was running out of the tent with most of the others. In the light from the campfires, he could see a cloud of smoke rising skyward. That was one of the ammunition storage areas. But there were three others still left. He started running toward the nearest one. Guards were with him and he ran as fast as he could.

  He was halfway there when another explosion shook the ground. No, the bloody fools were killing them all! He ran faster. There! The tent was just ahead! He was nearly there! But he pulled up short when two men with lanterns emerged. They looked up in shock when the crowd of soldiers confronted them.

  “Stay back!” cried one of them. “Stay back or we’ll blow you up!”

  “Get away from the tent!” commanded Krasner. “Step aside or you’ll be shot!”

  “We are willing to die! Stay back or you will die, too!”

  “Don’t do it, Luis!” gasped Thaddius and he came up. “This is wrong! Dominak was wrong. This is not the will of the gods!”

  The man’s face was twisted in surprise and anger. “Traitor! You are damned, Thaddius! Now watch how the Faithful can serve their gods!” the men turned and went back into the tent.

  “Luis! Don’t!” Thaddius darted forward and Jarren found himself doing the same.

  “Get down, you damn fool!” shouted Krasner. Something tripped him up and Jarren fell with someone on top of him. Helplessly, he watched Thaddius run toward the tent. An instant later, the priest was outlined by a brilliant flash and then vanished in flame and smoke.

  “Thad!” screamed Jarren, but his cry was lost in the roar of the explosion.

  The impact stunned him and his eyes were filled with smoke, but he struggled wildly to get out from under the person holding him down. After a few moments, he was let up and saw that it had been Krasner on top of him. The man had a large wood splinter sticking out of his shoulder, but he did not even seem to notice.

  “Bloody hell,” hissed the colonel.

  They both got up and walked slowly forward through the smoke. They found Thaddius a few yards away. The man’s limbs were twisted in strange ways, and he was horribly burned. Jarren knelt down, and to his amazement, he saw that the priest was still alive.

  “Send for Idira!” he exclaimed. “Bring the healer!”

  While he waited anxiously, someone ran up to say that the last tent with the powder had been saved. Jarren hardly heard him—or cared.

  “Why, Thad? Why did you do it?” he moaned. He wasn’t expecting any answer, but Thaddius opened his eyes.

  “B-brother Dominak can be very…persuasive,” he mumbled. “B-but I can see now that he was wrong. I should have listened to you, Jarren. I’m sorry.”

  “Hang on, Thad! Idira will be here soon. She can help you.”

  “T-too late…”

  The healer arrived a moment later, but despite her efforts, it was clear that she was not going to be able to save him. Too many things were hurt too badly. Idira tried anyway, and she was weeping while she worked, but sh
e couldn’t save her friend.

  “I-idira,” gasped Thaddius.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Don’t give up on the school. The school for healers. Not everyone is like Dominak. Show the world what you can do. P-promise me.”

  “I promise, Thad. I promise.”

  “I’m sorry, Idira. I didn’t want this to happen.”

  Then his eyes closed and he was gone. Idira covered her face with her hands and wept.

  “Bloody damned fool,” muttered Colonel Krasner, gently probing the splinter in his shoulder. Idira jerked up her head, about to utter some angry retort, but then caught sight of his injury and cut it off, unuttered.

  “Leave that alone,” she said getting to her feet, unmindful of the tears on her face. “Let me work on it. And don’t you go anywhere, Jarren, you’re hurt, too.”

  Jarren found that he was shaking, almost too weak to stand. He looked at Thaddeus’s charred body and then at Krasner’s bloody shoulder and then down at his own chest, burned and cut.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * * * *

  “Master Carabello?” Jarren looked up to see an officer on horseback a few yards away.

  “Yes?”

  “The general is having a conference at his headquarters. He wants you to be there.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, if you’d follow me, sir.”

  With a sigh he got to his feet and mounted his horse. He had gotten almost no sleep the night before. He was still in shock over what had happened, despite Idira’s good work on him, and he had spent most of the day staring at the flowing river. The officer led the way and Jarren followed awkwardly. In spite of several weeks of riding, he wasn’t much of a horseman. Fortunately, it was not far. When he got there, he saw a number of high ranking officers as well, and Lyni, Hess, and Idira. He was a little surprised they were not still working. With the loss of nearly three-quarters of the powder, they had redoubled their efforts, but everyone knew it was not going to be enough. He dismounted and went over to Lyni. She looked ghastly, but he realized she had probably just woken up from her ambulance bed.