Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3)

by Craig Alanson

  Then the smile froze. So did the creature. As the light behind its eyes faded in and out, it spasmed, trying to bend from the waist and fighting itself. In awkward, halting, jerky motions the creature bent down, its hands twisted into claws seeking a long, thin dagger which lay on the ground at its feet. The hands wrapped around the dagger’s hilt, pulling the weapon upward. With a sudden jerk, the being collapsed onto his knees, crashing down and throwing up a fountain of soot.

  “Koren-” the being grunted in a voice the boy recognized as Bjorn’s, the light flaring in its eyes. “Tell my family I love them.” With that, the being pitched forward like a toppling statue, dagger poised in front of it, and the dagger plunged straight into Bjorn’s heart.

  “Paedris!” Cecil warned, pointing with a shaking hand to the enemy wizards who were standing up, wavering on their feet. In shock, they stared at the two wizards from Tarador, their fear competing with their life-long hatred. With their demon overlord gone, the wizards of dark magic struggled with the innate cowardice that had brought them to practice their evil craft. They had no demon providing them protection and power, they also had nothing to lose, as their hopes for dark victory had perished in unimaginable fire. With a cry that was more ragged than fierce, the wizards of Acedor screamed a challenge and reached upward to summon magical fire.

  “Oh, bother. Not this again,” Paedris snapped with weary irritation. “Begone with you all.” Not even using his whole arm or giving the threatening wizards his full attention, he flicked his wrist and the assembled enemy were violently flung far in the air, soaring upward and back, going, going, going and crashing to the hard ground to tumble over and over, their bodies broken, their foul souls leaving the mortal realm.

  “Hmm,” Cecil remarked, shading his eyes with a hand as he watched the dark objects cartwheel through the sky before they hit far away and sent up puffs of gray dust. “Anything flying that far should have feathers.”

  “F-feathers!” Paedris chuckled and that started Cecil doing the same and soon they were both on their knees shaking with laughter. “I guess,” Paedris gasped, “I guess I was wrong about something.”

  “What’s that?”

  The court wizard used a hand to mimic something arcing through the air. “Wizards can fly!”

  Cecil exploded with laughter, setting Paedris off again and they both laughed until their sides hurt. “Oh,” Cecil held his aching sides which twinged painfully. “Why are we laughing at such a time?”

  “Because our evil enemy is dead!” Paedris exulted. “That ancient demon is no more.”

  “And Koren?”

  “Koren. I did not sense his death, did you?”

  “No,” Cecil frowned. “But I cannot sense anything about him now. Paedris, I fear for the boy.”

  “Then,” Paedris looked to the west, where a gray cloud of soot and dust rose as a pillar in the sky. “We must go to him, quickly.”

  “I wish we could fly,” Cecil replied with a wistful groan, thinking of the long distance they must walk. “Paedris, that was rather a neat trick, sending all those wizards tumbling through the air to their doom.”

  “Thank you,” the court wizard made a short bow, his aching back protesting. “It was-”

  “It would have been more convenient if you had performed that particular trick before, when those wizards had us trapped by magical fire.”

  “Oh,” Paedris’ face fell. “I couldn’t do it then, you see. With the demon feeding them power, they were able to resist me.”

  “And now?” Cecil pondered the dissipating clouds of dust where the wizards had crashed down to their deaths.

  “Bah,” Paedris dismissed the thought with a wave. “They may as well have been scarecrows made of straw. Are you ready, Cecil? It will be a long walk, and we must make haste. I do not sense Koren has died, but he cannot be in good health, if yonder column of smoke over those mountains is any indication.”

  The Royal Army sent scouts ranging far and wide through the countryside, and set up defenses around the main encampment for the night, though their own wizards assured General Magrane that the scattered, dazed and thoroughly demoralized soldiers of Acedor posed no threat to the unified might of the Royal Army. The only fighting within fifty miles was men of Acedor and orcs attacking each other, and a few men still stubbornly loyal to Burwyck resisting arrest and disarmament. Magrane told the wizards he appreciated their insight, and that he had not lived long enough to command Tarador’s army by being incautious and sloppy. Accordingly, trenches were dug and sharpened spikes installed in the bottom to stop cavalry charges, fences of brambles and tangled trees were placed behind the trenches, and sentries posted in depth ringing the camp. Knowing his people were nearly stumbling from exhaustion and the excitement of battle wearing off, Magrane rotated sentries every hour to ensure everyone had a chance to sleep for six solid hours. Everyone, that is, except Magrane himself, who tirelessly rode in circles to check on and thank the sentries. And the injured and healers who would get no rest that night, except those for whom rest would be permanent, having sucommed to their wounds.

  Neither was there sleep for Ariana, who tirelessly worked throughout the night in the hospital tents. No, not tirelessly, for even before the first light of dawn appeared in the eastern sky, she found it difficult to keep her eyes open. Magrane found her standing over a fire, taking cloths out of a boiling kettle of soapy water. The girl who was Regent, crown princess and future queen was using metal tongs to remove the cleaned cloths from boiling water, rinsing them in a kettle of cold water, and setting them on a line to dry.

  “Highness,” Magrane bent down stiffly on one knee, or he tried to but his old bones had stiffened after a long day and night in the saddle, so he bent as much as he could, knowing the princess would appreciate the gesture. “After your Regency is over, are you considering applying for a position in the royal laundry?”

  Ariana laughed, taking it as a good sign that the commander of her army still had energy for a joke, after being on duty all night. “Actually, yes. When I am queen, I intend to support the royal laundry by changing outfits two or three times every day,” she winked.

  “I am sure the laundresses will appreciate being kept busy.” Magrane leaned on a pole, a wave of weariness suddenly washing over him. He straightened, shaking off the momentary weakness.

  “General, you should rest,” Ariana chided the man gently, tactfully not mentioning his age as a reason he needed sleep. “Madame Chu was here an,” Ariana realized she had no idea what time it was, nor how long ago the master wizard had spoken with her. “An hour ago?” She guessed. “She assured me the enemy has no appetite for a fight with us, indeed there is no enemy. The demon is dead, she told me, and with it gone, the compulsion spells it used to control the people of Acedor have been broken.” Ariana had been happily excited to hear that good news, until Madame Chu explained this meant many people in Acedor were now able to think freely for the first time in their lives, and they had to be terrified. For a long time, the newly-freed people of Acedor would be unable to feed or care for themselves, so Ariana would be faced with the unexpected and somewhat distasteful task of expending massive amounts of money and effort, on behalf of people who recently tried to conquer and enslave Tarador. How could she sell that idea to the dukes and duchesses of the Regency Council, who were already nearly bankrupt from supporting the war effort?

  Ariana did not want to think about that, not just then. She still had many other problems of Tarador to deal with, but she also knew she could not stand by and do nothing, while her former enemies in Acedor starved to death. Those people, after all, had mostly been little better than slaves of the demon, and as such they deserved her compassion rather than hatred or neglect. Her father had dreamed of someday reuniting the kingdoms of Tarador and Acedor as one realm, and she shared that dream. Providing food to sustain the people of Acedor during the coming winter would go a long way to converting them into loyal citizens of a united nation.

&n
bsp; Magrane nodded. “Yes, Highness, Madame Chu spoke with me also. I did recall some of our roving patrols and relax the pickets, but soldiers must be vigilant,” he said with a wry smile. Then his expression darkened. “Did she have any news of Lords Salva and Mwazo? Or,” he lowered his voice, “young Master Bladewell?”

  “No,” Ariana felt tears stinging her eyes. “She explained the raw magical energy released when the demon died is still reverberating in the spirit world, like ringing a bell. It prevents her from contacting Paedris. She does not think Paedris, or,” she swallowed to calm the catch in her throat, “the others have died, but she also told me she might not have been able to feel it.” Madame Chu had said the death of a wizard sent ripples through the spirit world, but the effects of the demon’s demise were so overwhelming, ripples from the death of one or even many wizards might not be noticeable.

  “I have hope,” Magrane lifted his chin, in a gesture intended to lift the girl’s spirits. In truth, he had little hope that Lords Salva and Mwazo had survived whatever force could kill a demon, and for Koren there could be no hope. Those were the facts and Ariana knew them as well as Magrane did; she also did not need to face the truth right at that moment. Soldiers of the Royal Army were still dying of their battle wounds, and Ariana had enough to worry about within the confines of the encampment. Magrane also knew her thoughts would inevitably wander elsewhere, far the east, to a castle where a demon had resided for centuries.

  “I will have hope, too,” Ariana also lifted her chin despite her weariness. “Until I have reason to lose hope. General, you won a great victory yesterday, and your army remains vigilant. You should rest,” she added with concern.

  “Highness, I intend to rest, after we have returned to Linden and your position there is secure from anyone within Tarador who might be tempted to use the disruption of our sudden victory for,” he sought out the proper word, “adventurism. Fear of our common enemy kept the provinces united under your leadership, I fear Regin Falco is not the only duke who chafed about being led by someone as young as yourself.”

  “Oh,” Ariana’s shoulders slumped. “Do I have to think about that now?”

  “Someone has to, Your Highness, and since the title of Highness belongs to you, you must consider your position. But,” he smiled warmly, “I believe you can push aside such thoughts for tonight. I will bring the Royal Army back to Linden with you, see that the ducal armies return to their own lands, and then we may both rest. When that happens,” his shoulder shook slightly with relief, “I intend to retire.”

  “No!” Ariana protested. “But, you have just earned a great victory!”

  “Exactly, Highness. The Royal Army has just won a great, a famous victory, a victory that will be talked and sung about for centuries, a victory that will be celebrated in legends and sagas until the full truth has been lost to history. I cannot accomplish anything greater in my lifetime, and,” he winked, “there is something to be said for going out on top.”

  Ariana laughed. “But what will you do?”

  “My wife and I have always wanted to travel, to see faraway lands,” he replied wistfully. “In my career, I have been to foreign lands, but not for the purpose of leisure. Highness, there is much that must happen before I can set aside my uniform, I hope I may retire with your blessing.”

  “Of course, you will have my blessing when the time comes,” Ariana said unhappily, not liking the thought of facing the chaotic future without Magrane in command of the army. The threat from Acedor had bound Tarador together in relative peace, there had not been serious civil conflict or an attempt to overthrow the monarch since- She realized the last time a monarch or Tarador had been deposed was when her ancestor took the throne from the Falcos and began the Trehayme line. That was something she did not want to think about. Regardless, other than minor border skirmishes or foolishly prideful conflicts over matters of ‘honor’ between the provinces, the seven provinces of Tarador had not fought each other for over a thousand years. Nor had Tarador fought a serious war against any neighboring countries in nearly four hundred years. The peace had been based on fear of Acedor, and the belief that a unified and strong nation was the best insurance against Acedor conquering the world. What would happen now, when the realm of Tarador was weary and in heavy debt from the long war, and those with power both within and outside the realm no longer saw the royal family’s rule as necessary to their own survival?

  Ariana did not want to face such a dangerous, uncertain future without General Magrane, without Lord Salva-

  And most of all, she did not want to think of life, or anything, without Koren Bladewell.

  “Your Grace,” a soldier repeated, and Magrane cleared his throat loudly.

  “Oh!” Ariana was startled out of her dark thoughts. “Yes?”

  “Begging your pardon, Highness, the surgeons want more clean cloths,” the soldier reported with a bow.

  “Yes, yes, of course. Please excuse me, General Magrane,” Ariana nodded to the old warhorse, and set about gathering clean, dry cloths off the line.

  Paedris don Salva could not remember a time in his life when he had ached more and been more desperately weary to the very core of his being. Nor could he remember a time when he had been more deliriously happy, yet fearful in the pit of his stomach. He and Lord Mwazo had run steadily all that day, stopping only to fill their water flasks and drink after purifying the tainted water. Power from the spirit world gave them energy to run at a punishing pace over the broken terrain, all roads having been blasted away or covered in a fine, choking grit. The wizards had quickly learned to run side by side as their footfalls threw up puffs of gray dust and black soot, blinding and choking any person who ran behind another. By later afternoon, with the sun an angry red ball showing through the dust suspended in the air, they reached a spot where Paedris remembered the ancient map showing low hills and both wizards slowed to a halt, uncertain where to go. “Where is the castle?” He asked, baffled. “There should be, there was, a castle here!”

  “Paedris,” Cecil nudged with a foot the gray grit that blanketed the ground everywhere, “I think we may be standing on what used to be the castle. What used to be everything else also. We must be near the site of the castle.”

  “Hmm,” Paedris pondered that disturbing thought. “The ancestral castle of Duke Draylock stood on the edge of a low cliff, ringed by hills and moats,” he recalled from reading ancient scrolls. The valley below the looming mountains was now almost flat, with no sign of the river that fed water into the moats. Whatever cataclysm happened there, it had swept away hills and changed the course of a river? “This is the source of all that smoke we saw this morning. We will have to search, I suppose. I do not see any-”

  Cecil grasped the other wizard’s arm. “There!” He pointed to a soot-covered object just over the lip of a large, shallow crater.

  The two wizards sprinted across the open, fire-blasted ground at a speed that would have surprised anyone who knew their true ages. Cecil reached the boy first, dropping to his knees and holding up Koren’s head. “He lives! Paedris, you must help him!”

  “Yes.” The court wizard knelt, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to the boy’s chest, sending healing energy into Koren from the spirit world. “Give him water. Oh, he is near death, this will take considerable time.”

  It did take time, it was not until well after midnight that Koren cracked open one eye. “W-what happened?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us, my young friend,” Paedris nearly collapsed with relief. “The demon is gone, utterly. It is not merely banished back to the shadow realm, it is gone, dead. Koren, you killed an immortal being of immense power. How?”

  “It wanted my power,” Koren answered in a whisper, his mouth still not moving properly to form words.

  “Yes, the demon wanted your power to open a door to the underworld. You killed it before it could use your power for its own purpose?”

  “No,” Koren leaned to the side to cough. �
��It wanted my power. So, I gave it what it wanted. All of it.”

  Both master wizards gasped, and Cecil slapped his forehead. “Out of the mouths of babes comes wisdom! Paedris, I would never have thought of doing that.”

  “Nor I,” Paedris admitted, not at all ashamed of being shamed by a boy wizard who had no training at all. “You burned out the demon from the inside! Koren, how in the world did you get the idea to do that?”

  “I cast a fireball, or a firestorm, and kill an orc army-”

  “Yes,” Cecil shuddered at the memory, “we felt that.”

  “When I used that power, before I fainted or whatever happened, I saw there was no bottom, no limit to that power. I knew that I could have used much, much more power then-”

  “It is good you did not,” Paedris wrung his hands at the thought of how close to disaster the boy had come. “You could have pulled down those mountains on top of you.”

  “Oh. Um, but I didn’t. Lucky, I guess?” Koren saw Paedris roll his eyes at that remark. “I couldn’t control any magic, especially after the firestorm I couldn’t do anything at all, but I knew I could reach for that power if I had someplace for it to go.”

  “Into the demon,” Cecil breathed with admiration. “You didn’t need any training or skill, the demon would do that for you. It began pulling power from the spirit world-”

  “And all I had to do was keep the power flowing, out of control” Koren finished with a sheepish grin.

  “Paedris,” Lord Mwazo pretended to be washing his hands, flinging his fingers outward in disgust. “I will never again name myself loremaster, for I have just discovered that I know nothing about the true use of magic.”

  “You lured in the demon by giving it exactly what it wanted,” Paedris still was having trouble wrapping his mind around a concept so simple. “You used its own greed and lust for power against it, to kill it.”

  “I didn’t kill it, not completely,” Koren explained. “Thought I did, but some tiny bit of it survived. It tried to come to me, take over me, make me into its new Draylock. Bjorn killed it. He took it into himself and then fell on a blade, taking the demon with him. Bjorn saved me. He saved us all.”