“It’s time,” he said. Downstairs in the courtyard, his small contingent of two score men were waiting for him. The rest of his militia had been shed when he moved to this smaller estate, absorbed into the queen’s guard. He would ride at the head of the remaining forty, proud to lead them into battle. The king had initially placed Carannan among the reserves but he had rejected the favoritism, which seemed too much like cowardice. He didn’t seek death but neither would he flee from it. He didn’t want to be on the front line, and he wasn’t, but he wanted to be on the field. He would be on the left flank in the company of some good men he knew from days and nights spent in Vantok’s less reputable taverns. Carannan was the only nobleman on the left flank; most of his class were either in the reserves or far enough from the front that they would see battle only if things got bloody. He preferred it this way. Valuing his honor, he would hate to lose it now. He would rather die bravely than die knowing that others had perished to purchase his life.
Evane nodded in acknowledgement of his pronouncement. His departure meant it was time for her to leave as well. She would retreat to the palace to join the other noble ladies waiting for word that it was safe for them to return home or that they must evacuate to Basingham.
“If I don’t see you again...” he began.
“You don’t have to say things you don’t mean. This marriage has been a trap for both of us, but we’ve endured with dignity. If you don’t return, it will be an end to this sad chapter for us. Perhaps not the end we might have wished, but an end nonetheless.” There was sadness in those words but something else as well. Relief?
“If you see Alicia, give her your support. Even with Sorial by her side, this war will be difficult for her.”
“You underestimate your daughter.” He caught her use of the word your instead of our, an indication of how she viewed Alicia. “She’s made of sterner stuff than you give her credit for. Perhaps even sterner stuff than you.”
There was little more to say. Even during the best of times, they rarely had more than a few words for each other. So Carannan dutifully kissed his wife on the forehead and left her room. He knew that, once he was gone, she would return to brushing her hair as if he had never interrupted her.
The house seemed an eerily empty place with the servants gone. Carannan had dismissed most of them the day before, allowing them to return to their homes or leave the city, as they preferred. The only ones to remain were those who lived with the duke and his wife. They would stay here even after Evane departed for the palace. Carannan had left it to their discretion when they would choose to leave.
A profound sense of melancholia washed over him as he approached the door leading to the courtyard. He might well be riding to his death. Circumstances hadn’t afforded him a last visit with Alicia, although he had seen Sorial early this morning. Win or lose, some inner instinct told him he’d never set foot within these halls and rooms again. He had said many times in the past, when discussing the morality of manipulating Sorial into committing his allegiance to the city, that he would give his life for Vantok. Now it appeared he might be provided with the opportunity to prove those words. Whether such a sacrifice would be enough to save the city was another matter altogether.
* * *
The queen was on the throne doing what she did best: dispensing advice and judgments. The audience hall was full to overflowing with everyone hoping to hear something new about Vantok’s situation. It had been suggested that Myselene cancel today’s appearance, but she would have no part of it. She argued that as long as she ruled Vantok, she would make herself available to her people.
Rexall thought she was insane, but he had an affinity for those whose mental capacity was in question. His duty was to stand stock-still near the far end of the throne room and watch for potential dangers to her life and well-being. He couldn’t complain much about the job. It would keep him from the front lines and, if it came to pass that Vantok appeared doomed, it would place him in a perfect position to carry out Sorial’s commission.
Interacting with the queen, limited though the interaction had been, marked the first time Rexall had been around royalty. He found Myselene to be nothing like what he might have expected from a queen. She was vivacious, playful, and about as far from stuffy as one could imagine. In some ways, she reminded him of the tavern wenches he enjoyed rolls in the hay with, although she was considerably smarter and more politically savvy than them. Her husband, on the other hand, was more of what he had anticipated from a king. Azarak was reserved and serious. He rarely smiled and, on those occasions when he did, it was a sad kind of smile. Despite the differences in their dispositions, however, it was obvious that the king and queen were devoted to one another. Rexall wasn’t an expert about love, but he knew it when he saw it.
When he was in the presence of such a couple, Rexall couldn’t decide whether he felt sadness or envy. Falling in love led to putting down roots and that was something Rexall had steadfastly avoided for his entire life. But there was another side to it, a side he had glimpsed while spending time with Shiree. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with her but, for the first time, he understood the appeal of doing something with a girl that didn’t take place lying down.
The tension in the throne room was palpable. People were scared, and rightfully so. The war they had heard whispered about excitedly by gossips for weeks had become real. The prevailing sentiment was that the army and the wizards would save the city but, as much as people stated it as a fact, there was an underlying current of doubt. No matter how well the battle went, people would die. And many of those people would be fathers, sons, brothers, and husbands. Even if all went as well as it might, Vantok would be populated by many widows and orphans after the battle. And if things went poorly, it wouldn’t be populated at all, at least not by anyone who was in this throne room today.
Myselene’s escape plan was in place. Overcommander Vikon had reviewed it with the queen’s personal guard earlier today. Under no circumstances was she to be placed in danger. The king would be on the battlefield in a position of relative safety but, with a wizard involved on the other side, the concept of “security” was tenuous. Myselene was never to get close enough to hear the clash of steel or see the red of blood. If things started going poorly, she was to be swept away to safety. If Azarak perished, his reign would continue through her. If they both died, Vantok’s rulership died with them. Better a queen in exile than no queen at all.
Of course, Rexall had another duty to satisfy. Myselene wouldn’t question his absence during her flight to Basingham. She alone would recognize that he was engaged in another mission, although his fellow soldiers would likely think him a deserter. Time enough to correct that impression later if they survived.
Rexall knew the scent of fear and it was thick in the room. The people here pleaded for one thing Myselene could not give them: the utter assurance that their loved ones would be safe and their property would be protected. She did her best to quiet their fears but her best wasn’t good enough. In the past, Rexall had fantasized about ruling a city. This was one time when he was glad he was little more than a simple guard, even though the path he had set for himself might be exceedingly complicated.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: THE LAST DAY OF PEACE
Sorial’s face wore a mask of intense concentration. He was unaware of his surroundings - the boulder on which he sat overlooking what might soon be a battlefield, the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun, his wife’s tiny hand clasped in his. He was seeing not with his eyes but with his mind and the objects of his “vision” were many, many miles away. So far to see, such a strain to see clearly. Yet because he could deliver information to the battle commanders without the delay associated with traditional means, he had become one of Azarak’s most reliable sources about the enemy’s movements.
With a sigh and shake of his head, he returned his attention to his immediate environs. Something wasn’t what he expected, and he was unsure what to make of i
t.
He motioned for a messenger who was standing by to convey word to the king. “Tell His Majesty the army’s moving at the same pace as last time, with no signs they’re stopping for more than short breaks. If this continues, they’ll be in sight at sunrise on the morn after tomorrow. The numbers ain’t no different from those given by the advance scouts.”
The man nodded, mounted his horse, and galloped off in the direction of the command tent, approximately a half-mile behind Sorial in the direction of the city. The army was deployed in a convex semicircle behind him with its flanks to the northeast and southwest of Vantok’s center. Where he currently stood, just beyond the inner trench, was where some of the bloodiest fighting was expected to occur. In front of him, covering a swath fifty feet wide along the entire inner lip of the outer trench, was the trap he and Alicia had spent long hours developing with the hope of decimating the enemy’s front ranks. The six-foot deep bed of sharpened sticks, caltrops, and razor-sharp brambles was only a small part of what the invaders would have to navigate to reach a hand-to-hand engagement. The material in the trenches was flammable and designed to be ignited by flaming arrows, but Sorial was unsure how effective such a method of attack would be against The Lord of Fire’s army. Most likely, nothing would burn without Justin’s permission. The instability of the earth, on the other hand, was something that could be overcome only by detouring around the affected area or by using the sinking bodies of others as stepping stones.
“He ain’t with his army,” said Sorial.
“Are you sure?” Alicia’s voice held a hint of alarm.
“They’re close enough that I can read their footfalls through the ground. Thousands upon thousands of men. One signature reeks of heat and power and it ain’t nowhere near the army. Can’t say why but Justin is three hundred miles distant, southwest of here, not far from where we brought down Ariel.”
“A secondary force? A second army?”
Sorial shook his head. “No. It’s only him. If there are others with him, it’s a small group. Maybe a few token retainers or guards. Whatever he has planned, it don’t appear to be a two-pronged invasion.”
“Perhaps he’s searching for her. For Ariel.”
“Could be. He might have a method to identify the last location where she used her powers. More likely we’re meant to think that and it’s really a trap. He’ll know I can read his location and his objective may be to draw us out, away from the city. He knows he got the advantage in numbers and might believe that, by removing magic entirely from the battle, he can win. Arrogant and foolish.”
“What do we do?”
“Give him what he wants, at least in part. If we can keep him from being a factor in the battle, I think - and Azarak would agree with me - that our chances of a victory get better.”
“I don’t like where this line of thought is taking you,” said Alicia.
“Ain’t no choice. I can be the distraction. I can lead him a merry chase. I can keep him away from Vantok and, if by some chance he makes a mistake, I might even be able to bring him down.”
“Your chances are doubled if I’m with you. It was the two of us together who captured Ariel.”
“It was the element of surprise, something we ain’t got no more. And I won’t be trying to defeat The Lord of Fire; I’ll be trying to keep him from coming to the battle. For what I need to do, one wizard will be as effective as two. Your value will be here as Azarak’s weapon, the only wizard in the fight.”
“This is really dangerous. You could die.” It was a whisper. A frightened whisper.
“I could die here as well. War ain’t safe, even for a wizard. Especially for a wizard. And you said the same thing when I left for Havenham. I didn’t die then and I don’t intend to die now. Remember: it ain’t easy for one wizard to kill another using magic and earth is especially strong against fire.”
“Water is stronger,” she argued. “Maybe I should go.”
“Your place is here, fighting alongside your father for the city you love.”
“You’re just saying that because you think the woman always needs protecting. It’s the man’s place to face danger. Some sort of horseshit warrior’s code.”
“You know me better than that. Think about it: I’ve got greater experience with magic than you and I can escape more easily. You need water; I can sink into the ground. It ain’t got nothing to do with me being a man and you being a woman.”
Sorial could tell by the set of her jaw that she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t have an effective rebuttal. In truth, he didn’t like his “solution” any better than she did because he felt woefully unready to face Justin in any setting, even one where a one-on-one confrontation was unlikely. His failure with Ariel stung. Alicia’s presence would have provided a sense of added security and, if it came to a fight, she might be able to tip the balance. However, in the grand scheme of things, she was more valuable in Vantok than with Sorial.
“So you propose I stay here and fight while you go off and entice Justin to chase you around. It has to be a trap. You know that and you’re just going to walk into it? His purpose there is to kill you. It’s not to play games.”
“Knowing it’s a trap is a good way to avoid falling into it. He’ll expect me to fight him, not run away.”
“Someone once said that the most important thing about a trap isn’t whether the victim expects it or not but whether he trips it. Justin knows you aren’t stupid. He’ll have factored that into whatever he has planned.”
“Arrogance can blind even clever people. Look at Ferguson, and we’re talking about one of his disciples. Justin’s motives are probably more straightforward than you think. Look at it from his perspective. This is his chance to succeed where Ariel failed and remove one or both of us. Choosing the location gives him the advantage. And he’s selected a spot near the ocean to make it easy for you to arrive by water. This is an invitation. He wants to kill us outside the chaos of battle where he’ll have a greater control over the outcome. And even if only one of us comes - something he’s likely considered - that’s still one less wizard he’ll have to face at Vantok. But he assumes it’ll be a quick, clean duel. And he assumes he’ll win.”
There were inherent flaws in Sorial’s strategy. They both knew it. The biggest was whether Justin’s superiority with magic might make it impossible for Sorial to maintain the chase. But their choices were limited. If they both stayed at Vantok, Justin would eventually realize they weren’t coming and would make haste to the city to add his might to that of his army. And was this really more of a gamble than the thin hope of an expert archer taking down The Lord of Fire with an improbable shot?
Alicia bowed her head in a rare sign of submission.
“Let’s go present this plan to Azarak. He ain’t gonna like it any better than you do, but he’ll see that it needs to be done. I’ll leave tomorrow night. Better to travel by dark even though I’ll be using the rock wyrm and going underground.”
* * *
“Let ’im come to us,” declared Vikon. “’Tis a fool’s errand going to ’im. That’s what he wants - you said it yourself!”
Sorial sighed. Explaining the finer points of Justin’s scheme and why it made sense to confront him far from Vantok was impossible. The root problem was that Vikon didn’t grasp the simple fact that, lacking The Lord of Fire’s depth of magical understanding, Sorial could never hope to defeat him in a one-on-one confrontation.
“I have my misgivings as well, Sorial,” said Azarak. “If he dislikes the idea of a confrontation between the two of you as part of the larger battle, isn’t that something we should seek?”
“The Lord of Fire believes he can control the situation better if he and I meet at a time and place of his choosing. He assumes I’ll come to him with the intention of fighting, but my real goal will be to distract and delay.”
“War is more than moving around pieces on a board,” said Vikon, pointing with his crop to the map covering most of the table. �
��It’s a bloody awful business. Kings and generals speak of winning and losing but, when it comes to those who are doing the fightin’, victory often don’t taste much different than defeat. Dead’s dead - don’t matter whether your side lost or won. Nearly twenty thousand men are gonna clash in this battle and fourteen thousand of them ain’t goin’ home. The field will be so thick with bodies that it’ll take days to burn and bury them all. Vultures’ll have a feast. Vantok will end up populated by widows and orphans. That’s war. You think it can be reduced to a game. Maybe so does The Lord of Fire.
“Your power can make a difference here. You can split open the earth and swallow them by the hundreds. By the time The Lord of Fire realizes his trap hasn’t worked, his army will be in disarray.”
If only it was that easy. “Overcommander, you overestimate my abilities and underestimate his. There ain’t no sure path to victory here but if I remain and he figures I ain’t going after him, he won’t stay out there waiting for us to defeat his army. And if he comes to Vantok and finds Alicia and me weakened and exhausted, disposing of us will be that much easier.”
The Curse in the Gift (The Last Whisper of the Gods Book 2) Page 47