Cor also remembered that Erella had said Paton was relieved to no longer be in command of Aquis’ defense at Fort Haldon, and Cor had lost Fort Haldon in less than a year. Many other lords would have shunned him, or at the least quietly resented him for allowing the invasion of their homeland by an enemy that had been repulsed centuries ago. Paton simply said, “What more could you have done?”
Cor looked at the chandelier above and thought for just a moment before continuing. “Nadav could easily take most of Aquis just by marching through. No single city or noble has the forces to withstand him, but it would mean leaving sizeable garrisons behind to maintain order. This would weaken his main army and make it easy for our combined forces to easily liberate the conquered lands.
“No. I think he’ll head straight for Byrverus. It’s two weeks by horse, I assume three or four for a marching army.”
“I am no warlord, Lord Cor, but even I know that Byrverus can withstand an army such as you described,” Paton retorted gently.
“Generally speaking, I agree with you,” Cor replied, meeting his eyes, “but something weighs on me.”
“I can imagine the loss of friends in battle, not to mention the betrayal of one of your people, has caused some stress.”
“No,” Cor replied, cocking his head to one side. The image of Geoff’s ghast ripping is blade through Celdon’s head came unbidden to his mind. Cor dispelled it and said in a quieter, searching tone, “It’s something beyond that. The Loszians sat on their side of the Spine for seven centuries, quiet and content. But in almost no time at all, they’ve raised a massive army and attacked the Shining West. Why are they suddenly so ambitious? And it’s folly to be unable to back that ambition with real power. Nadav has a plan, I’m sure of it.”
“Well Lord Cor, on to our own plans. This morning I dispatched a score of riders, carrying messages to lords and priests across Aquis. Also, I know an influential count in Roka, and I sent word to him as he isn’t too far away. To our knowledge, all of the priests are still holed up in Byrverus, and that’s a bit of an issue, since we cannot ride straight for the city. It will take nearly four weeks to circumvent the invaded area. If you are correct in your thinking, Byrverus will be under siege before King Aidan is able to marshal the armies. Lord Rederick of Martherus will likely be the most able to raise and organize an army quickly, but again I fear he is in Byrverus. Therefore, we must assume that it is up to the smaller lordships to mass a force and bring it to bear against the Loszians.”
Cor nodded and took the reigns of Paton’s thinking. “Which brings us to the next problem. We face what – two to four weeks for the messages to reach their destinations, anywhere from one day to who knows how long for the recipients to decide to aid us, weeks for them to gather their forces and more weeks to rally at a central point.”
“Yes,” Paton agreed, nodding. “We are no less than two months from fielding any sizeable force. Likely three or four.”
“Far too long, my lord,” Cor said, standing. He looked at the map and placed a finger on Martherus. “I think Martherus is the obvious rally point? It seems to be the most centrally located, ignoring Byrverus.”
“Lord Cor, I don’t wish to overstep my bounds as host, but in a few short months your lady wife will be in labor if not close to birth. Might I ask, do you plan to leave her behind while you lead armies into battle?”
“I… I honestly hadn’t thought about it,” Cor replied haltingly, as much for Paton’s use of the word wife as anything else.
“Perhaps you should, Lord Cor, and perhaps you should consider that you have done much already. You are still quite young. Allow those with more power and influence to fight this war. How is Lady Thyss?” Paton asked, and the question itself seemed to be a point.
“She still sleeps, and again I thank you for the bed,” Cor said with a slight nod of his head. He thought the sun was not yet overhead, but he way uncertain as the sky was full of dark gray clouds. A hot, steady rain had been falling all morning. “The last few weeks have sapped her strength.”
“Indeed,” Paton agreed, “and it will only continue to do so. Lord Cor, I am a father several times over, and believe me that she will need you in the coming months.”
Cor opened his mouth to speak, but his words were cut off by a clamor from outside. Dozens of angry voices shouted over something, but they carried over one another to make the words indistinguishable. Cor and Paton rushed over to one of the study’s large, glassless windows and looked onto the yard below. They saw the Dahken to one side with Marya, and Keth moved toward the commotion at the keep’s gate. Several soldiers wearing Paton’s crest carried a tall slumped form while villagers and commoners threw angry words, tomatoes or even rocks.
The two lords turned and ran for the study’s exit, making their way to the keep’s stairs. To call Paton’s home a proper keep or stronghold was actually a mild exaggeration. It was a large granite edifice, a rectangle standing on end, with a total of four inner levels. Windows and arrow slits were placed sporadically in its walls, though Cor was fairly certain the building had never seen battle of any sort. The courtyard below was flat and grassless and had none of the buildings commonly protected within a castle’s wall. The wall itself was simply a wooden stockade of mostly elm trees with occasional scaffoldings upon which to post a watch or archers. Each end of the individual trees had been sharpened to points by fire and blade, one end buried deep into the ground and the other projected into the air. Hemp ropes as thick as a man’s arm and heavy amount of dried mud and clay held them together.
As the two men charged down the stairs, they very nearly toppled over Thyss, who also descended in a far more leisurely fashion. Mumbling apologies, they made their way past her. The stair let out at the back of the keep’s main hall, which Paton used to receive guests, govern his lands and dine, and Cor considered that the layout was a minor defensive concept. An invader would have to fight through the hall and then up a relatively narrow stair.
They reached the courtyard just as Paton’s house guard captain received a blow to the head from a hurled rock. The man staggered and slowly stumbled backward to fall on his rear, his helm dented inward painfully. The mob, emboldened, began to surge forward across the keep’s drawbridge, more elm trees reaching across a twenty foot moat. The moat was actually empty and dry, all the water having been drained decades before to fight drought and never replaced.
“Enough!” Paton thundered, having slowed his pace and walking toward the mob, and it shocked Cor that such a powerful voice had come from the man. “You dare attack my men, your brothers, fathers and sons who protect you from harm! Disperse now, else I will have you all arrested!”
“They protect one of them Garod damned Loszians!” shouted a man at the head of the mob, and Cor thought he recognized him as a fruit vendor.
“Are you so sure? How do you know what a Loszian looks like? Have you ever seen one?” Paton asked. His voice was quieter but still full of authority, and the crowd looked less sure of itself. “Go home. If he is a Loszian, he will pay for any crimes of which he is guilty. If he is not, then it is you who have committed crimes. Who would like to defend themselves before me?”
The commoners, perhaps two score in all, looked to each other uncertainly, and most turned to leave almost immediately. Seeing their comrades disperse, the rest no longer felt the safety associated with numbers and also returned to their homes. The last few at the front of the mob, the obvious leaders, finally realized their advantage was gone. After they had all left the courtyard, Paton ordered the drawbridge raised.
Lord Paton’s first concern was his downed man, who was conscious but shaky, and meanwhile, Cor looked over the figure lying prone on its stomach. Turning him over, Cor decided the male looked like all the other Loszians he had ever seen, hairless and with skin so pale as to be almost blue. He had been beaten severely, and large knots and angry red bruises began to appear on his head and skin. However, this Loszian was not dressed in the normal s
ilk robes that seemed to be the common affectation among their sorcerers, but he instead wore leathers on his torso and legs. The light armor was fitted for a tall Westerner and looked oddly comical and perhaps uncomfortable on the spidery Loszian. An empty shortsword sheath was at his side, and a broken longbow and empty quiver hung from his back.
Everything about this man unsettled Cor’s stomach in a most queer fashion, but he gasped in horror when the Loszian opened his eyes for just a moment. As the familiar gray eyes focused on Cor’s face, Thom smiled just barely in recognition before falling back into darkness.
* * *
Marya stood from the bedside, her hand dripping scarlet on the bedclothes and rugged floor. The unconscious Loszian, Thom, laid in the bed and snored quietly, and the wounds he received from his beatings went unhealed. It was a small room, just big enough for a bed, a pot and a basin, but it was all the unconscious man needed. A guard was posted to both protect him and come alert Paton and Cor should he wake.
“I’m sorry, Lord Dahken, I don’t know why it didn’t work,” she said as she slowly stepped over to Keth, who had already slit his own hand so that Marya could heal both their wounds.
Cor nodded darkly and sighed. “And there is no priest of Garod anywhere.”
“No,” confirmed Paton, “they all went to Byrverus for the Convocation, but do we think Garod’s healing powers would even help him?”
“Likely not.” Cor sat on the edge of the bed and grasped Thom’s hand. Thom had always been tall and long of limb, but now his fingers were alien and elongated, about twice the length of Cor’s. He was easily a foot taller, though no wider, and everything about him looked stretched and lengthened. Were it not for his gear and eyes, Cor would have thought him a natural born Loszian, but this was Commander Thom of Fort Haldon, a Westerner.
Once. Who or what was he now?
“Well then,” Cor said finally and stood to face Lord Paton, Keth, Marya and Thyss. “Only we know who this is or, at least, who we think it is. We must tell no one until he wakes and we can be sure. The people outside this room will think only that we have a beaten Loszian in our care, and I think we need to leave it at that for now. We certainly cannot tell Thom’s family.”
“Let his wife and daughters think he is still dead?” Paton asked, the concern plain on his face.
“I don’t think we have a choice, my lord. If we tell them he is alive, they’ll burst in here to find a sleeping and beaten Loszian. Do you think they’ll accept him as husband and father?” Cor asked.
“I suppose not, but as a father it upsets me,” Paton said with a pointed gaze that only Cor saw. “Lord Cor, I am no priest or sorcerer, but how is this possible?”
“I don’t know,” Cor said with a sigh. “Maybe we should discuss it over a meal.”
“I’ll have something brought up to my study, bread, cheese and wine perhaps,” Paton mused. “There the five of us can discuss this… development.”
“Lord Dahken,” Keth interjected, “I would like to talk to you for just a moment. Alone.”
“Then Ladies, please come with me to the study. We’ll see you two in a few minutes,” Paton said, and he ushered Thyss and Marya into the corridor outside, much to their silent annoyance. The guard also stepped outside to wait, and the door closed behind them.
“I failed you and the Dahken,” Keth stated bluntly.
“How so?”
“Geoff. Geoff killed Celdon at Fort Haldon, and it’s my fault. If I had acted when I had the chance, Celdon would still be alive. I was afraid,” Keth explained with his head hung, and his words bewildered Cor.
“I don’t understand.”
Keth sighed. “Geoff did not just kill Dahken Rael, he murdered him. There was no sadness, no remorse in him at all. He summoned his ghast to kill Rael for a purpose, to prove to me that he was more powerful than me, than all of us in his mind. I knew it. I confronted him.”
“And what happened?”
“He all but admitted it, but he convinced me that he could kill me easily. I let him go with the agreement that he followed whatever called him east,” Keth sighed and slumped his shoulders, and he looked more a boy than a man. “My failure is twofold. I sent him east, and he has joined with the Loszians. He murdered Celdon just as he murdered Rael, and he would have killed you too.”
“Geoff’s betrayal is his own, not yours. He did not murder Rael, for I’m not sure that the Rael you knew was even real,” Cor said, placing his hands on Keth’s shoulders. The boy looked up, and there were tears in his eyes, though they had not traced down his cheeks. “Dahken Keth, I need you now more than ever, and I promise you that Geoff will pay for what he has done. You have been a stalwart friend, and I could ask nothing more of you. You failed no one, and there are few others I would rather have fighting at my side. No more of this. Let’s leave Thom to rest.”
Geoff sniffed once, and the two Dahken made their way from the room, leaving Thom and his guard behind.
13.
“It was magic,” said Thom the Loszian when he awoke two days later. “The emperor did it; he summoned some dark power. It wracked me with pain such that I begged Garod for death. I felt it happening to me, felt myself stretch.”
“By Garod,” whispered Paton, “he can make more of them.”
The epithet annoyed Cor, more than anything because the god had nothing to do with it. Thyss had her own ideas, and they involved some sort of transmutation deep at the core, the very fibers of one’s being. Somehow the Loszians, Nadav, had found a way to access such power, and that chilled Cor to the bone. They had discussed the matter in Paton’s study.
“Surely, such a thing is impossible?” Paton had asked. “Westerners are the Chosen of Garod, and He certainly wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen.”
“He allowed it once, which suggests to me He had no choice,” Cor responded, and he received a blank look from his host for the trouble. Cor went on to recite the history of the West before the arrival of the Loszian meteor and that the original Loszians were actually Westerners who had been changed by the meteor’s power. Perhaps it was the power of the gods within it, but regardless, the Loszians then went on to conquer the entire continent, excluding the Northern Kingdoms and the Dahken.
Thom still lay in bed, his face a mesh of angry purple bruises, but he seemed well enough. His body held an immense soreness, more from the beatings than the magic, but he hungered ravenously, as he had not eaten in days and sparingly before that. He hadd made the journey south from Fort Haldon with haste, riding a Loszian horse. His own mare would have nothing to do with him and panicked when he tried to mount her. Cor stood in the small room with Lord Paton and Thyss, watching Thom bite large hunks of bread from a fresh load. The servant who had brought it also brought plenty of cool water with which to wash it down and a flagon of spirits to help liven Thom’s blood. Keth and Marya waited outside so as not to crowd the room more than necessary, but the light pine door was left ajar so that they may hear everything that was said.
“Celia?” Thom asked between mouthfuls.
“She’s safe,” Cor reassured him, “so are your daughters. We… we haven’t told them yet. We wanted to wait until you were awake.”
“I’m not sure I want her to know I’m alive,” Thom said, staring straight ahead. “How could she ever accept me like this?”
“Your family loves you, that’s how,” answered Paton, coming forward. “You’re still the same man, no matter what you look like.”
“I hope so, my lord,” Thom agreed absently, and he fell silent for a moment. “Lord Dahken, darkness falls across Aquis as we speak. The Loszian, Nadav, sent me here with a message for you. He invites you to Byrverus so that you may see it fall, so that you will know none can oppose him.”
“Is there any way we can get word to King Aidan more quickly?” Cor asked, turning sideways to face Paton.
“I –,” Paton’s response was cut off.
“My Lords, I fear that King Aidan is alread
y dead,” Thom’s statement brought a dead and sudden silence to the room. “Sovereign Nadav knew of Aidan’s march on Fort Haldon. He told me so, just before he…”
Cor’s eyes dropped to the floor, and he sighed deeply. He suddenly felt tired, weak, and he sat on the cold floor to Thom’s right, leaning up against one wall. He glanced at Lord Paton who, already well into his middle years, seemed to age considerably in just a few moments. He slumped over, seemingly deflated, and the lines on his face grew deeper and more pronounced.
“Is there any chance King Aidan could have repulsed the Loszians?” Paton asked hopelessly, and he sat upon the foot of the bed.
Cor considered it for a moment before answering. “Only if he had enough foresight to bring every soldier, warrior, mercenary and priest in Byrverus. No, Aidan was not marching on Fort Haldon to war with Loszians. He had no chance to defeat their host. By now, Nadav is well on his way to Byrverus.”
“He wants you to see the fall of Byrverus,” Thyss repeated from the other side of the bed, where she leaned nonchalantly against the wall opposite Cor.
Her belly had grown large, and Paton’s wife had suggested that she avoid any more traveling, as she could be no more than three months from giving birth. Thyss merely rolled her eyes at the suggestion, though it was true that the battle and flight from Fort Haldon had weakened her. For both her belly and her swollen breasts, she no longer fit well in her normal black silk clothing and instead chose loose fitting canvas tunics and breeches. Her sandals hurt her feet, and she had substituted them with men’s soft leather riding boots. She was so different now, but the differences were in her appearance only.
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