by Dave Gross
Stepping closer, I lowered my voice. "Listen, Ederras, I know the circumstances couldn't be worse, but my mission is critical. The queen herself—"
"She's sent you fishing," he said. "I've seen this fool's errand a hundred times before. ‘Search the ruins surrounding the Worldwound for any materiel useful in prosecuting the war.' It's a snipe hunt, Oparal."
"Not this time. The entire Silver Crusade has been dispatched for the same purpose, but Queen Galfrey wants our own people on it, too. She would not have summoned me for a routine effort."
"Because you're so very special." He made no effort to disguise his scorn, or his anger. His cheeks flushed red. There was a time when I welcomed that sight, the rising of the blood as we fought side by side in the alleys of Westcrown. If he remembered those days, it was not fondly. There was only bitterness left in his voice when he said, "Why didn't you stay in Kyonin with your people?"
"The same reason as you," I said. "I go where I can do the most good."
He clenched his fists. I stepped back out of sorrow, not fear. He still hadn't forgiven me for what I had done all those years ago. Perhaps he never would.
"I don't want to leave you empty handed," I said. "I will take ten, plus the sorcerer."
Jelani said, "Don't I have any say—?"
Ederras and I turned simultaneously, silencing her with a look.
According to my brief, Jelani had been in the field for well over two years. If she hadn't learned discipline by now, she never would. Unfortunately, she was the only sorcerer I had permission to take into my command. Fortunately, I had recent experience with freelancers in Kyonin. She could hardly be more trouble than they had been.
"I need every remaining soldier to hold this tower," said Ederras.
"You need to withdraw. This tower is on the wrong side of the wardstones. What was your captain thinking to station you here?"
Exasperated, he gestured to Aprian. "You tell her."
"He was thinking we needed a better view," said Aprian. He pointed northeast toward a line of storm clouds hovering over a low line of corrupted hills. "Look closely."
It wasn't the clouds alone that darkened the sky. More flying fiends hovered above a pustulant ridge. Sickly green-black motes floated around them, swarming like gnats.
"How long have they been there?"
"Days. We rode out from Kenabres, over there." Aprian's finger moved slightly east, indicating a city just barely visible on the horizon. "The captain led us across the wardstone line to this tower, hoping to draw off some of the horde."
"More came than you expected?"
"Many more." Aprian nodded. "The worst part was the first wave. Those swarms of bat demons around the floaters, they're half wings, half jaws, all insanity."
The sorcerer stepped forward and picked up a half-pulverized carcass from the watchtower roof. It was as Aprian described: an eyeless maw about the size of an ogre's fist. Its spiny wedge of a body formed wings. "Vescavors," said Jelani. "They can bite through almost anything: wood, stone, even steel. But the worst part is the gibbering. It's maddening."
"The troops held as best they could, but the confusion alone almost broke our lines," said Ederras. His tone had shifted to that of the younger man I had known in Cheliax. "It's good that you arrived when you did. You saved lives."
Ederras sighed and turned away. I knew that sound. He had accepted the need to turn over his troops, but he would no longer look at me. Instead, he addressed the survivors.
"Into the Worldwound. Volunteers?"
The young crusader I encountered before the stables stepped forward. He drew his sword and knelt before me. "My lady, if you will have it, my sword is yours."
His unmilitary gesture broke the dam of propriety. Another man stepped forward, and then another. A few moments later, four dewy-eyed youths and two grown men who should have known better had stepped forward to pose like knights from romantic paintings.
Masking my displeasure, I said, "My writ grants me the choice of your troops. I choose Jelani and Sergeant Aprian." I turned to the sergeant. "Your first order is to select nine more troops for me."
"Oparal, listen to me." Ederras pulled me aside. Strong as he was, my enchanted belt made me much stronger. In deference to our friendship, I allowed him to draw me away.
"You're making a mistake," he whispered when we had moved out of range of human hearing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw an elven crusader turn away discreetly. "Aprian is a good soldier, but you need to know he's been compromised."
"How?"
"Demonic possession."
"He wouldn't be in the field if he hadn't been exorcised."
"With his record, he should be commanding a legion. But every time his name appears on the rolls of valor, someone at court strikes it off. There must be a reason."
I knew something of the prejudice of those at court, although my persecutors were elves, not crusaders. "Aprian stood with me to channel the light. I saw him healing the wounded."
Ederras's expression turned to stone as he realized the implication: I had not seen him channel the light or heal the wounded.
"Listen, Ederras, if it's a question of my taking your best man, just say so."
"I wasn't trying to deceive you, Oparal. I was just telling you the facts so you can decide for yourself. You're the one who needs everything to be perfect."
His words stung because they were just. I had at times refused to yield to imperfect answers in the face of difficult problems. The past year had begun to open my eyes to some of my personal failings, but he couldn't have known that.
I tried a different tack. "It seems a very long time since Westcrown, Ed."
"It seems like yesterday, Captain." With that he turned to look west, where infection roiled through the wounded land. When he looked back, resignation filled his eyes. "Take them and go."
There was a time when we would have embraced before parting. Instead, I saluted. He returned the gesture without looking me in the eye.
Aprian made his selection. None of the volunteers stood beside him—another encouraging sign of his competence.
I signaled Aprian and Jelani to walk with me. Bastiel followed without the need for a sign. In our months together, the unicorn had learned to read my moods and body language. At times I almost believed he could read my mind.
At the tower's base, my troops gathered their horses. Thanks to the squires, none of the steeds had fallen to the brimoraks. Some of the mounts would carry their riders' bodies back home.
"Ten minutes." I pointed to a nearby hillock. "I will address the troops up there."
"Yes, Captain," said Aprian.
Bastiel carried me away while my crusaders said their farewells. Some waited at the base of the tower stairs to touch the faces of the dead as they were carried down. I saw prayers upon their lips, mourning in their eyes.
Others traded equipment or tokens with the companions they were leaving behind. No doubt some were extracting promises to send the trinket home for burial in case its owner never returned. It was a wise precaution.
After a brief conference with Ederras, Jelani was the first to leave the tower. She rode a dun mare with a black mane and tail, and black stripes along its back and lower legs. The horse shied and lowered her head as she drew near Bastiel.
The unicorn lifted his head and pretended not to notice. To him, a horse was a mere beast, no closer kin to him than an ape to a man.
"So, you and Ederras ...?" said the sorcerer.
I shook my head, disappointed. The men of the Mendevian Crusade were as full of gossip as any I had met in Cheliax. Many of them had joined while still barely more than boys. I had expected better from a woman.
Ignoring her question, I asked, "You know something of the demons?"
"As much as many," she said. "But I'm no demonologist. My talents lie in wind and sand."
"But you have some experience with the wardstones?"
"Yes. My first assignment was to restore a failing
wardstone to prevent a breach. Is that why I was chosen for this ...mission?"
I suspected she had stopped herself from calling it a snipe hunt.
"One of the reasons." I nodded down the hill, where Aprian led his selected crusaders and a few packhorses toward us. "What of the rest of the troops?"
"There are no rookies left in this squad, if that's what you're asking," said Jelani. "I'd say the ones Aprian chose are as good as the ones remaining with Lieuten—that is, Acting-Captain Ederras. Naia is our best archer. Erastus is the second-best tracker. All of us have been over the line more than once."
Good, I thought. I didn't want a sergeant who would leave his former commander with the least of his soldiers any more than I wanted one who would choose them for me.
Aprian presented the selected nine in two ranks. Already I had seen they were practiced riders, guiding their steeds with the economy of motion one sees in veterans. At a glance, a few stood out: a dwarf riding an improbably tall horse, a black-skinned half-elf, the Qadiran archer Jelani had called Naia, and a black-bearded Andoren with an eagle-shaped spaulder on one shoulder.
"None of you asked for this assignment," I told them. "After what you've just faced, you deserve a week's leave in Nerosyan. Unfortunately, the horde has other plans."
"These accursed demons have no plans," grumbled the dwarf. "They're all mad as a box of frogs."
"Pipe down and listen to the captain, Urno." Aprian barked like every sergeant I had ever met.
"You've just seen how they're massing along the wardstone line. Even Urno doesn't need a high horse to see they're preparing for a push."
Urno's eyes widened. The Andoren chuckled and slugged him on the shoulder with a clank of armor. The others relaxed now that I'd shown them I could make a joke, if a rather poor one.
"We have several sites to examine. I won't keep it from you: each will be worse than the previous. If Queen Galfrey's oracles are correct, in one of them we will find our target: a book containing some of the rituals used to open the Worldwound. Once we return it to court, the queen's sorcerers will unlock its secrets and close this damnable chasm forever. Let us pray we find it sooner rather than later."
The crusaders offered little reaction to that astonishing pronouncement. I had hoped for more, but I recalled Ederras's remark about snipe hunts. No doubt they had been promised grand salvation in the past, and it had never proven true.
"What's the first site, Captain?" asked a young Ustalav. He had the longest, darkest eyelashes I had ever seen on a man.
"What's your name, soldier?"
"Dragomir, madam," he said. Aprian caught his eye, and the young man corrected himself. "I mean, Dragomir, Captain."
"The first site we will visit is Yath."
Dragomir paled and drew the spiral of Pharasma over his heart in a distinctively Ustalavic gesture. The others made their own signs of prayer: the wings of Desna, the blaze of Iomedae, and others.
"Captain, Yath is gone," said Aprian. "I saw it fall."
"There wasn't so much as a doorknob left," said Urno.
"We have our orders," I said. "We will search whatever remains of Yath. Once we clear it, we move on to the next site."
"You said each is worse than the one before," said the man Jelani had identified as Erastus. Like Naia, he carried a bow in addition to the standard crusader sword and shield. From his dark complexion and accent, I might have taken him for a Chelaxian, but his blond hair marked him as a man of Isger. "What could be worse than Yath?"
"Let's hope we don't have to find out," said Naia. The Qadiran sat atop a black destrier, the very image of a desert ranger. Along with her bow and scimitar, she carried a war lance with a blue-and-white streamer.
A crack of thunder echoed across the hills. Heads turned in every direction until the black half-elf stood tall in his stirrups and pointed. "There!"
We saw a red flash above the city of Kenabres, followed by a rising plume of smoke and detritus. Seconds later, a sharp report reached us, followed by the dull roar of some incomprehensibly large animal. The cloud continued to rise, blossoming at its crest to form the shape of a mushroom. It was difficult to judge its height from such a distance, but I estimated it was more than a hundred feet tall.
"The wardstone!" cried Jelani.
"The people will need our help," said Dragomir.
By the watchtower stables, Ederras and his troops scrambled to finish loading and mounting their horses. He turned to us. Even at the distance I knew his eyes were fixed on me. He lifted an arm, not pointing at Kenabres but beckoning to me.
"He wants us to go with him," said Aprian.
"We can't," I said. "We have our orders."
"They're moving," said Dragomir. The demons hovering in the hills near Kenabres had indeed begun moving toward the city.
By the watchtower, Ederras shouted an order. His troops followed him toward Kenabres, their horses gaining speed with every step. Even with our help, I could not imagine how they would survive.
"You knew this would happen," Aprian said. It was not a question.
"The queen's oracles had a vision. I didn't know it would come so soon."
I drew the Ray of Lymirin and held it high. Even with the demons so far away, its holy steel flickered white. "Follow me," I cried. "For the crusade, Queen Galfrey, and Iomedae!"
A few of my troops cast longing glances at their comrades racing toward Kenabres. Despite the desire to join them, they followed me. As we rode across the changing land, I thought of Ederras and wondered which of us led the more courageous soldiers.
And which of us led the more doomed.
Chapter Two
The River
Radovan
The boss peered through his spyglass. "There."
I squinted at the Ustalav side of the river. In the distance, the Hungry Mountains had just gnawed the sun to death, smearing the sky with blood. Shadows huddled on the west bank. On account of my devil blood, I see just fine in the dark. At a distance, not so much.
"Let me see."
He handed me the glass, but the barge captain snatched it away. She put it to her eye.
Zora Gorcha was a tough old bird. She looked a good ten years older than the boss, but she couldn't have been much past half his age, which was working on a hundred. Even so, more red than gray curls spilled out of her headscarf. I didn't mind that. Even the rope of garlic around her neck didn't put me off. I like garlic almost as much as redheads and older women.
Everybody on deck was wearing garlic, including Arni. The big dog hated the stinky collar, but the boss taught him to leave it alone. Arni listened to me sometimes, but he always obeyed the boss.
Even the big bay draft horses tethered beside the Red Carriage wore loops of garlic. At first they'd eaten the bulbs off each other's necks, which Zora said was good for repelling mosquitoes, but the boss disagreed. He made the crew adjust their tethers, saying too much garlic was bad for horses. Besides, bugs weren't the bloodsuckers he was worried about.
Zora peered through the brass tube of the spyglass. "Is a different man, no?"
"A different man," said the boss. "Yes."
"You have dangerous enemies, Count Jeggare."
"I did not conceal this fact from you, Captain. I trust you are not frightened."
"Not frightened," she said, looking him up and down. "Impressed."
The boss clicked his heels and made a little bow.
"Come on," I said. "Let me see."
"Wait your turn. I am boat captain. You are only...What did you say?"
"Bodyguard."
"Bodyguard," she said, all dubious-like. "I wonder."
"Come on, you've had your look."
Zora slapped the spyglass into my hand. She tilted her head back to look down her hooked nose at me.
She fancied me, all right.
It took a few seconds to find the cultist. He wore the same kind of tattered cloak and leathers, but he wasn't the tall, lean guy we'd seen the night before. Th
is one was built like a wrestler, kind of like me. Bigger, maybe. Hard to judge without somebody standing next to him. I wanted to get my mitts on his neck and work out which one of us was stronger.
Zora gasped and stepped away.
"Radovan," said the boss. At his heel, Arni whined and put his head on his gigantic paws.
"What?"
"You ...growled."
"I didn't."
Did I?
Zora shot me the Varisian evil eye, which looks kind of like the tines, only low and backward. I got the feeling she fancied me a little less. She shouted at her crew to keep well away from the Ustalavic shore.
We'd been hugging the eastern bank ever since we got clear of Razmiran. Even so, the first night we spent alongside Ustalav, these mooks began showing up. They just stood there watching us. They hadn't tried anything.
So far.
The boss studied my face like a page in a book.
"So what if I did growl? You hate these Anaphexis jerks as much as I do. Aren't they pretty much the evil opposite of your little club?"
"The goals of the Anaphexis are indeed the antithesis of the Society's," he said. "And please, for the thousandth time, I ask you to cease referring to the Pathfinder Society as my ‘little club.'"
"Aren't you still on the outs with them? Or did that last letter change your mind?"
The boss touched his coat pocket. He had at least three different letters there, two of them from queens, all of them asking for the same favor. "I have yet to decide, but that is beside the point. The Anaphexis merely remind us of our oath."
"Your oath. I never promised those mooks nothing."
"The word of a count of Cheliax binds both him and his—"
"Don't say ‘servant.' Don't say ‘henchman.'"
"You know perfectly well I never refer to you by those terms. I was about to say ‘friend.'"
"Yeah, yeah."
"In any event, you know I made that agreement for your sake as much as my own. More so, in fact."
He had me there. One look at me, most folks realize my family tree has roots in Hell. The Anaphexis, these killers of knowledge, they knew my big secret: my family tree also has roots running under the throne of Ustalav.