Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3)

by Craig Alanson

  Koren captured by orcs. I could have killed him but he asked me to trust him. Said you should trust him also- Raddick

  “Paedris, we need to speak about it,” Mwazo gently prodded his friend half an hour later.

  “Why?” Paedris did not even bother to sigh, so deep was his despair. The message from the sending stone had been a terrible, awful shock, and Paedris had no way to reply or to ask questions of Raddick. The paired sending stones were linked, they could be used only one way and one time. Shomas must have instructed Raddick in their use, the soldier had scratched out a brief message on the ground and passed his stone over the words. Now the stones were locked, spent. No new message could be sent, nor did Raddick have any way to know Paedris had received the fateful note. “We are lost, utterly lost,” Paedris hung his head, scuffing his boots in the dry soil, barely caring where he was going. Seeing that message had destroyed any hope Paedris had for Tarador’s survival, broken his spirit. He cared about nothing, for there was no longer anything worth caring about. The world waited for death, and there was nothing Paedris don Salva could do about it.

  “We don’t know that for certain,” Cecil prodded annoyingly.

  “What else could result?” Paedris snapped angrily, knowing he was not being fair and not caring. What did it matter if he were fair or cruel now? Nothing mattered, nothing at all. The enemy had Koren, and soon the demon would peel that boy apart to steal his power, sundering the barrier to the shadow world and allowing a horde of demons to overwhelm and consume the real world. Nothing mattered. Throwing up his hands in anguish, he shouted to the heavens “What was Raddick thinking?”

  “That is the wrong question, my friend,” Mwazo replied with a faraway look in his eyes. He took a piece of candy from a pocket and offered it to the other wizard, knowing Paedris became cranky when he was hungry. Since departing the Lady Hildegard, the two had often been hungry, often enough that Cecil did not remember exactly what it was to not be hungry all the time. “Here, eat this.”

  So angry at the world, at everyone and everything but especially at himself, Paedris almost slapped Cecil’s hand away in disgust, but a little voice in the back of his mind told him he was being a stubborn, childish fool and Paedris had learned to listen to that voice. “Thank you, Cecil,” he muttered as an apology while popping the candy into his mouth. “That is good, it reminds me there are still good things in this world. What did you mean, I asked the wrong question?”

  Pleased that Paedris was now in a proper frame of mind for a reasoned discussion, Cecil broke off a small piece of candy and bit into it. “You asked what Raddick was thinking-”

  “Clearly, the man was not thinking!” Paedris interrupted. “He is a soldier, he is honored to be a captain in the Royal Army, yet he ignored the strictest, the most important order-”

  “Why?” Cecil cut off his friend’s building tirade. “As you say, Raddick is a fine soldier, entrusted by Grand General Magrane with a vital mission. Then why did he ignore his orders, when he knew the stakes, and when disobeying a direct order must go against all of his training as a soldier?”

  Paedris looked at Mwazo with raised eyebrows, not speaking.

  Mwazo continued. “The question we must ask is not what Raddick was thinking, but rather what Koren was thinking. Koren certainly knew the risk if he was captured by the enemy, and the boy’s often-demonstrated courage tells me he was not merely afraid for his own life. Yet he asked Raddick to disobey orders and trust him. So, what is Koren’s plan?”

  “Koren’s plan,” Paedris whispered. “Cecil, I am ashamed. I lashed out, pouting like a child, while you calmly considered the facts.”

  “You don’t think well when you are hungry,” Cecil smiled and gave Paedris another piece of candy.

  “That is no excuse for my behavior. However,” he smiled, “I will seize on any excuse. What could be Koren’s plan?” He pondered, lost for any insight. “Surely the boy does not think he can destroy the demon with magical fire?”

  “Perhaps it is just that simple,” Cecil mused. “He unleashed unprecedented power, and he must have realized such power is beyond the scope of other wizards. He may believe that he can summon such power again, and consume the demon.”

  “But he can’t! He will fail, and the demon will laugh before Koren is torn apart from the inside.”

  “The boy doesn’t know that. For our purposes, what is important is that Koren believes in his heart he has the power to destroy the demon.”

  “He does have the power, he doesn’t know how to use it, and he lacks the ability to control it,” Paedris grew frustrated again, feeling despair well up inside him. “Wait, what do you mean ‘for our purposes’?”

  “For what we must now do, Koren’s actual ability matters not. What matters is the boy believes he can destroy the demon, and that is why he allowed himself to be captured.”

  Paedris did not speak immediately. Then, “Cecil, perhaps my mind is especially slow today. Why does it matter what Koren believes? The demon cares not what he-”

  “It matters, because the demon will attempt to read Koren’s mind. The boy is strong enough that, in that at least, the demon will not succeed, but Koren will not be able to conceal his emotions completely. Because Koren believes he can and will destroy the demon, the demon will feel that.”

  Understanding dawned on Paedris. “And the demon will fear Koren.”

  “Exactly,” Cecil nodded without satisfaction. “Paedris, we have no hope to rescue Koren from the clutches of the enemy, and we cannot allow the enemy to gain access to the boy’s power. We also cannot kill Koren from here. But,” he spoke woodenly, devoid of emotion, “we could make the demon fear Koren so much that the demon kills the boy himself. We came here for me to sow fear into the demon’s heart, so it would delay an invasion of Tarador and give us time to find Koren and perhaps begin his training. Now our purpose will be for me to make the demon fear Koren, and so destroy the boy for us.”

  “The demon must indeed be filled with fear, to destroy such a weapon. I do not know whether the demon’s fear will overcome its lust and greed.”

  “The demon has been patient,” Cecil reminded his fellow wizard. “It has waited for over a thousand years, and most importantly, it knows it can conquer Tarador eventually, without Koren. The question the demon must balance is whether hastening its certain victory is worth the risk of allowing Koren into its presence.”

  “You think you could tip that balance?” Paedris asked fearfully. His fear was not for the outcome, but for the terrible cost Mwazo would pay for communing with the demon’s mind.

  “I can feed its sense of fear, I do not know if that will be enough,” Cecil made a smile that quickly faded to a frown. “Paedris, I am afraid, I am terrified to my very core. I will not survive touching the demon’s mind, but you and I have always known this journey has but one end for both of us.”

  “Yes,” Paedris agreed reluctantly. They had no hope of escaping from Acedor, especially after Mwazo attempted to contact the demon through the spirit world. “However, we did hope our sacrifice would buy time for Koren to gain strength enough to challenge the enemy. Now, our best hope is for Koren to die, and Tarador to suffer slow and certain defeat?”

  “We do not know what either, Paedris. The future is uncertain. Not long ago, we did not know of Koren Bladewell. We must act from hope, and not from fear.”

  “I will try, Cecil, I will try.” Lord Salva straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “I do wish my hope was not only that a good boy will die. There is one thing we have not considered,” he tapped his cheek while he thought.

  “What?”

  “Koren asked not only Raddick to trust him, he asked us, me, to trust him.”

  “Paedris,” Cecil did not wish to debate an issue that had been decided. “He is a young boy who knows nothing of magic, except that he once managed to unleash uncontrollable power. We are master wizards, we must use our best judgement.”

  “We have betr
ayed him before, now we betray him again.”

  “Because we must. I do not like it either,” Mwazo’s tone was grim. “We either trust an untrained boy, or we trust everything you and I have learned over centuries of studying wizardry.”

  “You are right, Cecil,” Paedris agreed reluctantly. “Though I do not like it.”

  “I am ready, Paedris,” Mwazo announced in a calm but unsteady voice. Over several days, he had been communing through the spirit world, sending subtle feelings of unease and fear to the demon, gradually increasing the intensity of feeling so the demon would not notice those feelings were coming from outside its consciousness. Here was where Cecil Mwazo showed himself to be not only a master wizard, but a masterful practitioner of the most arcane and difficult forms of wizardry. He dared touch the mind of a demon, though the experience left him drained and shuddering with fear that was genuine. Now, after days of preparing the way, he was rested and ready for the most difficult and dangerous task; that of making the demon believe Koren Bladewell was a trap, a dangerous weapon the demon dared not allow into its presence.

  Paedris looked up at the clear blue sky through the brown leaves of the trees they rested under. Clouds were building in the east and the afternoon would become cloudy with rain showers. Now, in the brilliant sunshine that illuminated even the darkest shadows, was the time, yet Paedris hesitated. “Are you sure-”

  “I am sure that delay aids only our enemy,” Mwazo answered without opening his eyes. He was already partly in a trance and could not spare the break in concentration to look at his fellow wizard. “Paedris, the time to act is now. The longer Koren is under duress, the closer he is to the demon, the more difficult it will be for us, for me, to act.” He emphasized that the action would be his responsibility, for he knew how much Paedris cared for the boy. Cecil admired Koren Bladewell, and was grateful he had not gotten to know the boy better, or it would be much more difficult for him to do what must be done.

  “You are right, Cecil,” Paedris looked away, chastened. He knew how very difficult and dangerous it would be for Mwazo to attempt clouding the demon’s mind, yet he could not help thinking they were making a mistake, a mistake they could not undo. “Still, I fear we are doing this because we cannot think of a better course of action.”

  “That is because we have not thought of a better option, and time marches on against us. Do you know of another way to keep the demon from seizing Koren’s unimaginable power?”

  “No. Cecil, I agree we are doing the only thing we know to do, and that Koren will die anyway if the demon takes his power. Yet, a little voice in the back of my mind reminds me Koren told Raddick we should trust him. It haunts me that we do not know why Koren said that.”

  Mwazo nearly broke concentration, so frustrated had he become with the useless and distracting conversation. “Koren Bladewell is a wizard of immensely powerful potential. He is also a young boy, and young people often have foolish romantic notions. Unless we believe our untrained friend Koren truly has the skill and knowledge and control to destroy a demon, we must act as best we can.”

  “You are right, Cecil,” Paedris wiped away a tear. “Please excuse the sentimental weakness of an old man. I am ready.” He laid down under a tree, on ground he had swept clear of sticks, stones and bugs, for he could not allow himself to be distracted by physical discomforts. “And, if we are not able to speak later,” he added, knowing the extreme danger Mwazo was facing, “it has been an honor to be your friend.”

  Cecil nodded silently, already falling deeper into a trance as Paedris lent him power.

  Koren’s legs had become tired from the effort of keeping himself upright on the horse, with his hands bound behind his back he could not use them for balance. That morning he had nearly fallen off twice to the jeering delight of the orcs. Bjorn had fallen while they were crossing a stream and his horse stumbled, throwing the man into the water. For a moment, Koren had feared his friend would drown, for Bjorn had fallen into a deep pool and could not get to his feet. Shouting and pleading by Koren did nothing to spur the orcs to pull the man from the water, only when the enemy wizards ordered the orcs to act did they roughly grab Bjorn and set him back on the horse. “Thank,” Bjorn coughed up water, “thank you,” he said with a very short and stiff bow to the wizard who had ordered his rescue. Only two days after they had been captured, they had met a larger band of orcs who were accompanied by two wizards.

  “Thank me not,” the orc wizard snapped with a cruel smile. “When you are brought before my master, you will wish for death, but it will be granted only at a time of his choosing. You are alive only because you can be used to control your young wizard friend.”

  “I will do nothing to help you,” Bjorn retorted proudly.

  The orc’s smile grew broader. “You need do nothing. I sense your young friend will cooperate with us, rather than see you suffer as you should for defying my master.”

  Bjorn spat toward the orc wizard but he was too far away. “Koren, don’t do anything they ask, no matter what happens to me.”

  “Silence!” The wizard roared and with a gesture, Bjorn’s tongue twisted painfully in his mouth and he found himself unable to talk.

  “What have you done to him?” Koren tried frantically to use his own power but found he could not reach it, not do anything. When the two wizards, one human and one orc, had joined the orc band, their first action had been to cast some sort of spell on Koren and now he felt sluggish and numb all the time. It was as if the power of the spirit world was just beyond reach of his fingertips and it was slippery, his outstretched hands unable to grasp anything useful. It was intensely frustrating and Koren worried how much of his inability was due to the enemy wizards, and how much was his lack of training and knowledge of wizardry. And, worse, he worried his uncontrolled use of unspeakable power to destroy the orc army had somehow damaged him and his connection with the spirit world.

  “His foul tongue, which has often spoken ill of my master, has paid the price. I would do the same to you, if my master had not forbidden me to harm you. But,” the orc held up a dirty, bony finger as warning, “a simple gag in your mouth would work just as well if you do not cease your ranting.”

  Not wanting to risk a disgusting rag being tied across his mouth, Koren held back the words he wished to shout at the enemy, words he knew would have no effect but to amuse the orcs. Using his knees, he nudged his horse closer to Bjorn’s. “Are you injured?”

  Bjorn shook his head and his eyes glared daggers at the orc wizard. When the two enemy wizards had joined them and Koren had still not acted to kill the orcs and escape, Bjorn began to question the boy’s plan, but he remained silent. They had come this far together, Bjorn knew doubts would not do him any good at that point. The two rode in silence, Koren so worried he felt sickness in the pit of his stomach, until nearly an hour later, Bjorn coughed softly. “The spell has worn off,” he whispered so quietly even Koren’s keen ears had to concentrate on the words.

  “Hmmm,” Koren thought that was interesting, and might be a useful bit of information later. Magic spells could wear off after a while, maybe whatever spell was making his sluggish and fuzzy would eventually weaken also?

  “Don’t worry, I have no wish for that to happen to me again, so I will hold my own tongue,” he said with a wink.

  Koren took that as a sign that Bjorn’s spirits were good, and that gave him hope. “Anything we could say would only provide sport for these orcs.”

  They rode on for what Koren judged was another hour, stopping only once for the horses to drink from a stream and for the orcs to hold slimy water flasks to the mouths of their captives. The flasks smelled bad and the water tasted foul but they were parched, so Koren and Bjorn both drank greedily. They had been drinking from orc water flasks for days already without falling ill, and they had seen the wizards performing some magic ritual over the flasks, likely to purify the water for themselves and their captives. No such ritual was given to the water of the orc band,
who had filthy habits and drank from communal bowls. Just seeing their blackened teeth slurping up water, and the bowl passed from one mouth to another, made Koren queasy. The wizards purified water for Koren and Bjorn, and while the food they were given twice a day smelled and tasted awful it also had not yet sickened them. Seeing the slimy, half-rotted food the orcs ate, Koren realized he and Bjorn were privileged to eat the same choice rations as the two wizards.

  Having crossed the border into Acedor, they were passing through rolling hills not all that different from the land in Winterthur province on their Taradoran side, though the trees were not as healthy and there were no clusters of neat, well-tended farms. The land also had a constant, faint scent of something unpleasant and burnt, which even after days, Koren found he could not ignore. The road wound around a hill, and despite his fear, Koren was mildly curious to see what lay ahead to the west, deeper inside the fabled, feared land of Acedor, when the two wizards sat bolt upright in their saddles, frozen.

  The orcs around them halted, muttering fearfully among themselves and drawing weapons. Whatever was happening, the orcs were familiar enough with the event to be alarmed, many of them making what Koren assumed were hex signs, or clutching various talismans. He also noted the orcs were backing away from the pair of wizards, not letting their eyes off the magic-wielders.

  The orc wizard moved first, jerkily swinging one leg around and then falling out of the saddle onto the ground, falling awkwardly and heavily enough to cut his face. Blood flowed freely from the orc wizard’s nose and the cut on its cheek but it did not appear to notice. Dazed, the orc shook his head while pawing at its belt for a knife.