by T. A. Miles
“Korsten….”
“You don’t trust me. Not anymore than Sethaniel did, but for different reasons. Or perhaps not. He looked at me and saw a woman. Perhaps you do as well. Or maybe you only see a coward. It inspires sympathy in you rather than hatred, but it’s all the same, when it comes to casting me out and lying to me!”
“I haven’t lied to you,” Merran replied, far too easily for Korsten’s comfort at the moment.
“You haven’t told me the truth of your intentions! You plan to shield me from the demon that you know is here, because you believe I’ll panic, like I always have before. Ashwin didn’t assign me to this. It was you the Council sent. You don’t need my help. You don’t even want it!”
Having waited for Korsten to finish, Merran came forward and crouched down, an arm’s length away. Meeting Korsten’s tearful gaze, he said quietly, and maybe a little angrily, “What do you expect from me, when you act like this? Hunting the Vadryn isn’t a task for the faint-hearted. Ashwin has let you cry on his shoulder too many….”
Merran’s words were cut short by Korsten’s hand, slapping his face. If not for his anger, he might have been shocked by his own actions. However, at the moment, his sole focus was Merran, the fact that the other man had hurt him, deeply. “Don’t you dare speak ill about Ashwin! It’s because of him … because of his compassion … that I’ve managed to hold onto even a shred of my sanity! All you’ve ever done is stolen my misery away! Masked it, just like—”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Merran interrupted, glaring now, silencing Korsten with the sudden force in his voice and expression. “Wasn’t it escape you were after? Escape from the truth that would have kept me out of your bed! The truth about how you feel about Renmyr Camirey and how I—”
“How you don’t feel,” Korsten interrupted softly, lowering his face. “Gods, I know. I know that I seduced you, but you’re right; I needed escape. You’re right, Merran.” His voice began to tremble. “I can’t be trusted to act bravely in the face of pain … and it hurts so much, just thinking about the Vadryn. The terror grips me, always, with the memories of what happened in Haddowyn. They’ve taken everything from me. My whole life … all that mattered to me. They have my heart in their claws, and I’m afraid to take it back.” He began to cry, bitterly, angrily. It was anger at his own weakness. Time couldn’t make him stronger. He was still the same helpless coward he’d always been.
Merran touched his arm lightly. The hurting began to subside just with that minor skin-on-skin contact. Merran’s hand settled, and he squeezed gently, comfortingly. Korsten appreciated the effort, but in a moment he slipped away. He looked up at his friend, and said, “No. I won’t use you anymore the way I have in the past. If I can’t be stronger on my own, then I’m of no use to you or the others … here and at the Seminary. You’re right, Merran. I’m sorry.”
Having said that, Korsten got to his feet and carried himself to the door. He glanced back at the other mage, still crouched before the window, not looking at him. He thought of apologizing again, but decided simply to leave.
Korsten decided not to sleep. He went to the stables and visited with Onyx instead. He stroked the handsome beast for a while, then decided to brush him. The activity relaxed him and soothed his heart’s incessant aching somewhat, not through magic. Quiet time alone had always been a remedy for him. The trouble was that he never stayed alone and things never stayed quiet. He was going to have to face Merran again, eventually. He would have to face Grisch as well, and watch the man smirk snidely as he realized that he’d put a wedge between the two mages. Maybe that was his intention from the start. Maybe he didn’t actually want their help, even though he had been the one to contact Ashwin. Or maybe he didn’t actually contact the Mage-Superior. Maybe their correspondence was simply routine.
What difference does it make? We’re here, Merran and I. There’s a demon here as well. Merran knows it. That’s the reason for all of his secrecy. He wants to observe it …
Korsten stopped brushing Onyx. With a contemplative frown, he finished his thought.
While it observes me. He’s using my gift. He said before that a demon would be drawn to me as helplessly as a person. I’m a decoy. Merran, you bastard. It was probably your intention to upset me, knowing that the Vadryn would find my misery even more attractive. Gods, how could I be so…. A sudden sense of presence made Korsten look to the stall door. He quickly smiled at the young man watching him. Trev was the youth’s name; green-eyed, undersized, and silent. He was scrappy, though, the kind of lad who had probably won a lot of street fights simply on determination. “I didn’t hear you enter,” Korsten said to him. “Did Lars give you stable duty?”
Trev shook his head. “Couldn’t sleep. Came to visit the horses and saw you in here.”
“Won’t Lars give you stable duty after all if he finds you’ve wandered out of the barracks when it’s your turn to sleep?”
Shrugging, Trev said, “Probably put me on night watch. I don’t mind it. Better than….”
Korsten waited through the youth’s pause, wondering where he’d heard that voice before, perhaps not mumbling like it was now. And then he said, “Better than what?”
Trev looked at him for a moment longer. Finally, he said, “I … want to see it, if it comes for me.”
“You want to see what?”
“You’re here to catch a demon, ain’t you?”
“Aren’t,” Korsten amended reflexively, adding, “There have been rumors about one of the Vadryn here. I won’t lie to you. If there is one, then yes we’ll find a way to be rid of it, but primarily….” Thinking about Grisch again, he frowned. “My job is to assist in planning a defensive strategy against an attack from Morenne. I’m sure you know about the unsteady situation along the border.”
Trev nodded. His green eyes kept watching, not studying but admiring … in a way that differed from the other soldiers, and that Korsten understood immediately. The boy looked unsure, but also unwilling to leave. Fear and confused adoration both kept him at a distance. He didn’t know how to react to either. In a moment, he said, “You missed practice.”
“I had a meeting with the captain,” Korsten decided to say. He forced a smile over the frown that came automatically, thinking about Grisch. “How did you do today?”
“Not bad,” the youngster replied. And then he almost smiled. “Got knocked down fewer times.”
Korsten laughed with him. Underneath he hoped this child would never have to see battle. Of course, he knew it was inevitable that every one of these men, however young, would take part in the war against Morenne. It seemed futile, but Edrinor had survived nearly a century in chaos. If order could be restored…. “Master Korsten?”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever seen one of them before? I mean, have you ever seen what they really look like, underneath the faces they steal?”
Korsten couldn’t hold onto his smile. He went back to brushing Onyx so that he wouldn’t have to look at the youth. “I have seen their true form, yes. It’s nothing I wish to discuss. It’s not an image you need painted for you.”
“What would you do if it was one of us?” Trev asked next. “Would you have to … would you….”
“No,” Korsten said at once, looking at the young man now, thinking of Markam. “People can be freed from their will.” And now he was thinking of Renmyr. Can you be freed, Ren? Perhaps it’s been too long.
“Master Korsten,” Trev said, distracting him once again. When Korsten looked at him, he smiled a bit, and said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Stricken speechless, Korsten could only smile at the lad and nod once, watching him leave. No one had ever been glad for his presence. They’ve been many things, but never glad. They’ve never told him as much anyway. Still, I’d better be careful around the boy. I don’t want to be guilty of misleading him or confusing him even more as
he makes this discovery about himself. It’ll be hard enough for him once he’s older and maybe has met someone he truly loves, who can’t or won’t love him in return. What Ren and I … what we had was…. Gods, Ren … I miss you.
“Shrouding the land around the river wouldn’t be a problem,” Korsten said to Lars as they stood along a northern wall looking down at the water snaking through the only clearing in the forest. It was warm in the full daylight, bordering on hot. So near to the water, it felt rather humid as well. “It’s not a large river. The Morennish will probably want to lay makeshift bridges across it. A thick mist would make it difficult to get troops across fast. Standard defenses should keep them from climbing the cliff face, but that will turn their attentions toward another route; the road. They’re going to plow over Lilende. The city has no walls, and no soldiers … only a small force of constables.”
The old soldier stood with broad arms folded across his chest, surveying the land beyond the cliff-borne outpost. “Decades ago this was a lord’s manor,” he explained. “Governed over the town below. The borderlands were farther out then, so there was never any trouble with invasion.”
Korsten nodded slowly, keeping his gaze on the treetops. “I’m sure they never dreamt of such trouble.” After a few moments’ thought, he asked, “Are there any secrets about this place that could benefit the enemy if they learned of them? Entrances at the base of the cliff, or something of that nature?”
Lars shook his head. “Not that I’ve been made aware of. As far as I know, the cliff’s solid. No natural caves even, let alone manmade tunnels.”
“If there is a spy in our midst, there must be something he wants. Some kind of information that he could pass to his allies. The Morennish are going to know there’s not a vast army hiding here. Perhaps they’re unaware of whether or not we could summon reinforcement from another town. It’s still uncertain … even to us, sadly, who still fights for the throne and who exists simply for their own sakes.”
“That’s certainly true,” Lars agreed, adding, “We lost Haddowyn about thirty years back, as I’m sure you know.”
Managing to swallow the lump of tears instantly in his throat, Korsten said, “Yes, I know.”
Lars shrugged. “They would have been too far north to be of much help to us in Lilende, but it could have been a good military location up there. The governor was still loyal to the Rottherlens and had enough control, power, and finances to keep the mercenaries and traitors at bay. I imagine it’ll be part of Morenne soon. I wonder why they haven’t simply stepped in and taken it?”
“It’s Vadryn territory,” Korsten informed.
Lars glanced at him. “I suspected as much. Didn’t quite know for sure. Thought it was a revolt of some kind when I first heard about the murder of the family.”
Korsten held his response long enough to discreetly clear his throat. “They were attacked by the Vadryn. I’m surprised the rumors haven’t spread this far yet.”
“Rumors, yes,” Lars replied with a taut nod. “But we’ve heard rumors of demons doing everything from devouring infants suspected of having Rottherlen blood to killing every man, woman, child, and dog at Vassenleigh. Our communication with Lord Ashwin lets us know the bit about Vassenleigh is nothing more than rumor, but we couldn’t be sure on Haddowyn. Every now and then someone claims that Camirey still has control, but that it’s not what it was. It’s like a town stricken by plague. Everyone and everything gives it a good berth now.”
You’re still alive, Ren. I thought I always knew, but having it confirmed now … After everything that’s happened, perhaps I should have been hoping that you escaped the demon inside you somehow and passed mercifully from this world. Merran would think me a fool, but I feel hopeful now. Ren, I feel inspired, knowing that you’re still in this world with me. I still love you.
Korsten was slow pulling out of his thoughts, prompted mostly by the sensation of eyes on him. He looked to his right and spied Ecland on duty further down the wall, watching him. The youth took his gaze away as soon as he realized he’d been caught and Korsten smiled a little to himself. Of the soldiers at the keep, the very young ones especially seemed mystified by the presence of mages. Maybe it was a distraction that Korsten had been so friendly toward them, but better fascination than mistrust. Grisch and Merran presently supplied the outpost with more than enough of that.
The sudden rise of a flock of birds out of the forest canopy drew Korsten’s attention northwest. His eyes narrowed with interest and he watched for several moments as the distant creatures dispersed, then reassembled and settled again amongst the full green branches, out of view.
Lars noticed as well. Eventually, he said, “In all my years of service, that’s never been a good sign.”
Still staring toward the northwestern horizon, Korsten replied, “I’m inclined to agree with you. I think a word with Captain Grisch is in order. He may want to consider putting this place on elevated alert.”
The youngish commander of the Lilende outpost stood rigidly in front of his study window. His hands were tight fists behind his back, his jaw muscles working while he stared out at the lush summer canopy. At some length, without looking back at his present company, he said, “Tell me again, exactly what you saw.”
Lars reissued his and Korsten’s account of the bird sighting and the precise direction of the incident. Grisch only seemed to get more annoyed and suddenly, Korsten was beginning to realize that the captain was as new to his post as he looked. As Korsten understood it, the ruling family at Temstead acted more or less as steward in the absence of a king and someone there would have been responsible for this man’s promotion. Perhaps that individual had failed to know who he was promoting, or failed to care. It saddened Korsten to think that Edrinor’s last threads were so weak. Even worse was being in this situation, about to be engaged in battle with Morenne, possibly a demon as well, with a man who wasn’t prepared for it.
“You saw a flock of birds flutter from one perch to the next,” Grisch summarized, not quite accurately. “What makes that fair warning of anything?”
Lars was about to respectfully explain, but Korsten stopped him with a light touch at the elbow and offered his own explanation. “The trees around here are quite tall, high enough up to where nothing minor is going to upset the creatures residing near the top of the canopy. It was no hunting party or gaggle of noisy children that stirred them, captain. Something large enough to create a disturbance that traveled from the roots to the tips of the uppermost branches annoyed those birds. Either you have giants in your forest, or a sizable group of armed men marching through it.”
Grisch turned around to glare at Korsten. The fire in his blue eyes was unmistakably of hatred.
“He’s right, sir,” Lars said before Grisch could comment on Korsten’s words and before Korsten could wonder at the captain’s animosity. “Animals are upset by strange circumstances. There’s nothing right or good about an army moving in on their territory.”
Stubbornly, Grisch said, “What if it’s something else?”
“What if it isn’t?” Korsten pressed.
“Perhaps you’d like to play scout and go see?” Grisch asked caustically.
“It’s not my field of expertise, but if you’ve no one else to investigate….”
“Shut up,” the captain growled, looking daggers at Korsten. “I’ve had my fill of the sound of your voice.” To Lars, he said, “Send a scout to investigate and report on a possible situation in the northwestern woods.”
“Yes, sir,” Lars replied and promptly took his leave.
That left Korsten and Grisch alone and glaring at one another. The captain’s animosity was unwarranted, but it was fast becoming mutual.
“What is it you want from me?” Korsten finally asked outright. “You’re not happy with me doing the work I’ve been assigned to by my superiors, and you’re also dissatisfied when I
abandon it to devote myself to the task you’ve seen fit to deliver me yourself. Perhaps I should spend my time here sitting upon one of the walls as an ornament.”
“By all means,” Grisch replied, gesturing out the window, toward the view of the keep’s west wall behind him. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine target for an enemy’s arrow, if they are in fact coming.”
“They are coming,” Korsten told him, ignoring the insult. “And you’re not ready for it, are you?”
Grisch’s cold glare turned to fire once again. “How dare you question my ability to command?”
“There are more than five hundred lives at the mercy of your command, captain. My own and Merran’s included. I have every right to question—”
“You have no right!” Grisch shouted vehemently. “Not the right to be here, not even the right to live!” Korsten could only stare in confusion while the captain proceeded. “You filthy, demon-loving bastard, do you think I have no idea who you are? Do you think I don’t know where you came from?”
Korsten still had no response.
Grisch filled in the silence with his hateful tone and biting words. “I know about Haddowyn. I was there, in my mother’s womb … put there by the very man who murdered the entire Camirey family, down to the youngest child. I would have died as well, with my mother, had she not escaped.”
Korsten’s heart stopped working properly. It felt like it was choking him. He wanted to deny the captain’s claim; the man didn’t look much like Renmyr. However, denial currently wasn’t cooperating with its master. Suddenly Korsten recognized Grisch’s temper, so very much like Renmyr’s.