The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus

by D. B. Reynolds

  “If you primed the device to his blood, it cannot be used against me. Perhaps it was the hexagon he counted on to drain away my magic, which is surely my greatest weapon. If so, he’s lost the device he counted on to defeat me.”

  She grimaced and tightened her hold on his hand. “That’s not it. He wanted to use it against you, but I told him I couldn’t ensure it would be ready in time. He’s created something else, something new. I couldn’t discover what it is. He kept it even from me, though I know he began working on it weeks ago, if not longer.”

  “We both have new spells and weapons, love, I—”

  “No,” she insisted, though it was obvious her strength was fading. “He’s too . . . pleased with himself. You must beware, Nico. You won’t expect whatever it is.”

  “All right,” he said, wanting to soothe her so she could rest. “My four warrior brothers wait below to help plan for the battle and design new strategies that Sotiris won’t expect. If we alter our attack strategy, he’ll be forced to change his own in response. That might be enough to thwart whatever he has planned. And if not, we’ll be ready, because of your warning, Antonia. You are the most courageous woman I have ever met.”

  Her eyes were still dark with worry under the haze of exhaustion, but she managed a smile for him. “My courage is slight compared to the warrior women who fight by your side.”

  “They are not greater or lesser, simply different. Sleep now, and I’ll return soon.”

  DESPITE HIS reassurances to Antonia, Nico was worried. He’d received a formal proclamation of war from Sotiris just three nights ago, the message delivered to the night watch. Opening the scroll was well beyond the night commander’s authority, but noting who’d sent it, he’d done the right thing and ordered Nico wakened.

  Both sorcerers had known war was coming and had been preparing for it almost since the cessation of their last battle. If it was going to happen this year, it had to be before the first snowfall, with enough time to either settle their hatred forever, or declare another truce and retire to their castles to plan for a spring offensive. They each had armies already bivouacked on the chosen battleground, which had been selected by Sotiris. As the two sorcerers had been fighting on and off for years, they’d agreed long ago to alternate the choice of battleground between the two of them. It added a veneer of civility to their ongoing wars, except that there was nothing civil or even honorable about war. Hundreds of men had died, hundreds more permanently injured with many of them no longer able to support their families. In Nico’s opinion, it was an ongoing tragedy that had to end, but it would only do so if one of them died.

  Thoughts of their endless conflict and the lives it had ruined were nothing new to Nico as he took the stairs down to the conference room where he’d meet the four men who were the greatest warriors their world had ever known. If anyone could devise a strategy to deal with the many unknowns of Sotiris’s battle plan, it was these four.

  They were waiting for him when he opened the doors to the war room, which had a variety of weapons and maps covering every bit of space on the stone walls, and a huge wooden table that was similarly covered with maps and sketched-out attack plans. All four looked up when he entered, and all four had the same questioning look on their faces. They knew about the hexagon, because he’d told them the same night that Antonia had first visited his castle with word of the device. They’d also been made aware of her presence upstairs, along with the circumstances of her rescue. And every one of them was intelligent and experienced enough to understand what it might mean for the battle they’d be fighting the next morning.

  “The lady?” Damian asked. Though they were all close, Damian and Nico had grown up together. Nico had somehow conjured Damian to his side, when they’d both been very small boys. Not even Nico knew if he’d pulled the other boy from a life somewhere else, or if he’d been literally created by Nico’s will. It didn’t matter to either of them. They were brothers and always would be, though it did mean that the big, blond warrior had a more instinctive understanding of how Nico’s mind worked.

  “She’s been shockingly brutalized,” Nico said. “But my healers are seeing to her, and she’s safe.”

  Damian was studying him shrewdly. “She’s more to you than a spy in Sotiris’s court.”

  Nico eyed him back, torn between his gut-deep need to protect Antonia, and his loyalty to these men. “I love her, and intend to wed her when this is over, no matter the cost.”

  Kato gave a low whistle. “That must grate on Sotiris’s pride like a rusty blade.”

  “Fuck Sotiris and his pride. He’s the one who beat her.”

  “Fuck him indeed, then,” Gabriel growled. “No honorable warrior would hit a woman, much less one who looks to him for protection.”

  “Except on the battlefield,” Damian commented.

  “A warrior is neither male nor female,” Gabriel replied. “She is simply a warrior.”

  Damian, who’d once been worshipped as a god of war, grinned. “A fine distinction, my friend. And one I agree with.”

  Gabriel snorted to indicate his opinion of Damian’s agreement.

  Nico let their banter flow over and through him without much notice. No matter what they said or how much they might disagree, they were a single unit on the field, and would each die to defend the others. Instead, he looked to the one warrior who rarely spoke, though he probably had more real battlefield experience than any of them. He’d been chosen by the goddess of his people to singlehandedly defeat armies of invading barbarians who threatened the island where he’d been born.

  “Dragan?”

  The warrior lifted green eyes to meet Nico’s. It was a gaze marked by the nightmare that had been his life before he’d left his island home in response to Nico’s spell calling the greatest warriors to join him.

  “The hexagon is no longer our concern,” Dragan said. “As its designer, the lady understands its use better than anyone, including Sotiris. He may well attempt to reforge it for a future battle, but knowing she’s made him the device’s only target, he won’t dare attempt its use tomorrow. He’s no fool, and he also lacks the courage to take that risk. We should instead be looking to this other device or spell he claims to possess, the one that will deprive Nico of his greatest weapon.”

  “Agreed,” Damian said readily. “But I, for one, have no idea what that might be. Our strategies are not dependent on a single weapon, great or otherwise.”

  The others started to speak, but again it was Dragan whose quiet words had the others going still. “We four are often spoken of as his greatest weapon.”

  “Well, fuck,” Damian whispered.

  Silence reigned for several minutes, before Kato said, “He could possibly eliminate one of us if he turned a number of his fighters on that one at the same time. But even then, we are rarely alone on the field at any time. Even if our brothers were somehow unable to support us, we’re surrounded by multiple soldiers who would come to our defense. It must also be said that even without that assistance, none of us would go down easily.”

  “Sorcery can overcome even the greatest warrior, if the spell is properly designed and executed,” Damian said darkly.

  “Perhaps one of us, if he was very fortunate,” Gabriel agreed. “But how could he take out all four at the same time? We don’t march in line like ducklings on a pond when we fight.”

  “And yet, Antonia was convinced that his confidence was more than an idle boast, and she knows him and his machinations better than any of us,” Nico reminded them. “Having said that, however, I don’t see how we can defend against something we know so little about. We can alter our fighting techniques so that the four of you fight in pairs, rather than solitary, and I can shield Dragan whenever he takes to the air.”

  “Will that severely limit the amount of sorcery you can put into play against him directly
?” Kato asked. “Perhaps that was his plan all along, that he would let slip word of this new weapon, so that your magic would be divided.”

  “He couldn’t have known Antonia would come to me with the hexagon. She didn’t know herself until the first day she rode through my gates.”

  “She may have let slip some doubts,” Kato replied, although his own doubt flavored the words.

  “Would her doubts be sufficient for him to secure his strategy on? That would be risky indeed, and as Dragan rightly pointed out, Sotiris is not a courageous man,” Damian said.

  “Enough.” Nico raised both hands, palm out. “We can’t possibly know what Sotiris hopes or plans for, if anything at all. We will take what steps we can to mitigate our vulnerability, but we must fight as we always have . . . with our best skill, and with knowledge of the many lives at stake.” He looked around the table. “Agreed?”

  Four nods were returned.

  “Good. We‘ll arrive on the field before sunrise tomorrow, and survey Sotiris’s deployments, noting anything that appears unusual or suspect. If nothing, then we proceed as always.”

  Damian stood, flask of ale lifted, and the others joined him. “To our leader, and our brother, Nicodemus.” They all raised their flasks in Nico’s direction and drank. “And to victory,” Damian added.

  Five flasks were raised, and five voices shouted, “To victory!”

  Nico and his brothers spent several hours rehashing their battle plans, and making what changes they could without knowing more about Sotiris’s strategy. But he remained somewhat concerned, especially after Dragan had pointed out that these four, who had fought so many battles by his side and meant so much to him, were truly his greatest weapon. He would die without hesitation if it would save any one of their lives. Yet wars weren’t won on emotions, but on superior skill and flexible strategy, both of which he had on his side. It was also true that he was a more powerful sorcerer than Sotiris, and more innovative in the use of his magical skills. He knew he’d done everything possible, short of surrender, to avoid catastrophe in the coming battle. And so, it was with a confident heart that he stood at the foot of the stairs outside his tower, and bid his warriors good night. He remained standing there until they’d ridden through the gates and disappeared into the night. All four would ride to the battlefield tonight, to wake with the army and see to their disposition on the field.

  Nico would arrive very soon after sunrise, but first he would spend what might be his final night on earth with Antonia, and see to her safety, whether or not he returned from the field.

  Chapter Eight

  HE MADE NO ATTEMPT to stifle his footfalls when he climbed the stairs of his tower, and so he wasn’t surprised when his head healer was waiting outside the door of his bedroom.

  “My lord.” The woman’s greeting was warm as always, though her eyes showed the effects of one more sleepless night after a lifetime of too many. Healers were born, not made, and they began training very young—as soon as their gifts became evident. It was safer for the healer, and better for their patients that way, and healers were both loved and appreciated, since they treated all, regardless of ability to pay. Nick’s healers treated everyone on his estate, and anyone else who came to the gate needing help. It was why he maintained a large staff of them, but also why so many healers wanted to work on his estate.

  “Good evening, Magda. Or is it morning by now?”

  “Just past the stroke of midnight, my lord.”

  “Ah. The beginning of an iniquitous day, I’m afraid.”

  “Only the enemy is wicked, my lord.”

  He smiled wearily. “How do you know that I am not the wicked one?”

  “Because I know you, and because only a beast could have beaten one so vulnerable to a man’s fists as Lady Antonia. On my oath, I have never seen a more odious example of brutality.”

  “On that we can agree. How is the lady faring?”

  “Much better than when you left. She’s undergone three separate rounds of healing, by myself and two others, thus her physical ailments are substantially improved. Her emotions are still running high, so I’ve calmed her somewhat. I expect, however, that your presence will do more to reassure her than anything I can do.”

  “Thank you, Magda. I’ll remain with her through the night, so you may go to your bed for now. I shall be leaving before dawn, however, and don’t want her left alone. I will also provide additional guards for her safety. Sotiris cannot himself leave the field of battle, but he may well think to take advantage of my preoccupation to send others to retrieve that which he considers his.”

  Magda snorted in disgust. “They will find no easy target here, my lord. Healers can cause injury as well as heal it.”

  Nico grinned. “I won’t tell anyone you said that, but I shall, however, endeavor to keep the number of people requiring your care tomorrow as low as possible.”

  “Much appreciated, my lord. See to it that you are one of those.”

  “Good night, Magda.”

  “Rest well, my lord.”

  NICODEMUS CLOSED the door behind the healer and cast a locking spell to be sure no one could enter without blowing the door itself off its hinges. He would wake long before that happened, so anyone who tried would be dead well before their attempt succeeded. He needed to know that Antonia was safe before he could rest, and he needed to rest if he was to outwit Sotiris the next morning.

  Removing his clothes, he slid under the covers and pulled Antonia into his arms. She hummed with pleasure when she recognized his body, or maybe his scent. What mattered to Nico was that she knew and welcomed him, even though she was still affected by the healer’s sleep spell. He lay still, holding her in his arms, content just to know that she was now his forever. There was no going back from what he’d done in taking her from Sotiris’s clutches, no longer room for any explanation but the truth when it came to their relationship.

  He knew he should sleep, but couldn’t bring himself to let it happen. He wanted to slide into her body one more time, to make slow love to her here, in his bed, not on a blanket under the trees or behind a waterfall, no matter how beautiful or romantic. He had a . . . premonition was too strong a word. Call it a gut feeling instead, that he wouldn’t return unscathed from the battlefield tomorrow, that tonight might be his last time with her. And still, he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her sleep, or worse, to trouble her with his unformed feelings of doom.

  And so, he held her close in the protection of his arms until he slept, and didn’t dream.

  Chapter Nine

  Five weeks later

  THE MEMORIES THAT had chased Nicodemus into sleep had brought dreams so vivid that when he woke on the floor of Sotiris’s tower so many weeks after their disastrous battle, he fully expected to find Antonia lying next to him. It took no more than a moment to realize where he was, and why, as the harsh reality of her loss crashed once more into his already battered heart. He sat up with a tired sigh and noted that someone had covered him with a blanket again, and that the scent of warm food filled the room.

  Sotiris’s servants took a risk offering such comfort to his enemy, no matter that the sorcerer was gone, and seemed likely to remain that way. Nico would have to provide for them somehow before he left. What would happen to Sotiris’s tower if, as Nico believed, the bastard had fled into the same world where he’d sent the four warriors? For that matter, what would happen to his own tower when he did the same? There was little choice in the matter. It was the only route available if he wanted to find and free the people he loved from wherever Sotiris’s curse had flung them.

  He rubbed his face as he sat up fully and reached for the tea, not knowing how long he’d slept and hoping it was still warm. He immediately snatched his fingers back from the ceramic jug, sucking them like a child, but pleased that he’d have something hot
to wet his throat and bring greater acuity to his thoughts. A linen-covered basket next to the jug produced breads as warm as the tea, and a fresh jam which was delicious. He’d have stolen Sotiris’s cook for his own estate if he’d been planning to linger. He had duties here, responsibilities to people from the towns, villages, and farms across the lands he’d conquered. But this world held nothing for him anymore. The very air was like dust in his lungs, and the warm sun taunted him with visions of the unknown horrors his warriors might be enduring. And what of Antonia? Was she locked in a dark dungeon somewhere, awaiting Sotiris’s benevolence? She could die of neglect if that was the case, for the enemy sorcerer surely had none to give.

  Nico finished the light breakfast, which only served to make his stomach growl for more. He became aware for the first time in days? weeks? that he was hungry. He needed to find the kitchen that housed Sotiris’s excellent cook and ask politely for something more substantial, preferably meat. Maybe if he ate a better meal, his thoughts would clear, and he could decide what his next steps should be.

  Because he had a critical decision to make. He’d unraveled enough of Sotiris’s spell that he now knew his warriors had been cast into the maelstrom of time and place, although that knowledge brought no comfort, nor hope of finding them easily. And he still hadn’t found the smallest clue as to Antonia’s fate. She wasn’t dead. He believed to the depths of his soul that he’d have felt her death as sharply as a knife to his heart. She was that important to him, that much a part of his existence. But the universe was a huge place, with worlds intersecting and time a fluid thing. He’d never thought to travel beyond the world and time he’d been born to—he’d had no reason. But now that he did, he wished he’d paid better attention to the great thinkers who’d hypothesized that structure of reality, some of whom had even taken the leap and ventured forth, determined to prove, to themselves at least, that their theories were correct. None of them had ever returned, however, which meant they were either dead, or had found a world better than this one. It was also possible, he supposed, that they’d simply been unable to return, or that the world they’d landed in hadn’t been wonderful at all. But that possibility didn’t change his own thinking one whit. If his warriors and Antonia were in a dangerous world, then they would need him all the more.