Sourcethief (Book 3)

by J. S. Morin

  The defenders of Neirasch held the center of town as if there was some strategic value to the sturdy little courthouse, the civic hall, or the communal well. In truth, the library some streets over would have been their best defense; Rashan knew he was hard pressed to wantonly destroy books. He guessed at their numbers: fifty, perhaps one hundred depending on how close their Sources were huddled together and how many were hidden beyond his vision.

  "Same as always, captain," Rashan said over his shoulder. "Wait for my command then chase down whatever survives."

  "Pretty town you have," Rashan shouted in Safschan as he began his slow walk to the Safschan defenders. "Will your wives and children be coming home tonight to weep over your bodies? Of course if I need to smoke rats from the holes they hide in, they might find that nothing remains of their homes but ash and rubble when they arrive."

  Rashan did not know what to expect from his prey. The Safschan thus far had defied prediction. From city to city, they had laid traps for him, ambushed him, fled from him in terror. They had engaged in hit-and-retreat actions that suggested disciplined leadership then stood stoically to be massacred with weapons in hand. A few singular individuals had proven entertaining, though none had yet to pose a challenge let alone a threat. From the Sources he saw, Neirasch would not provide the first.

  "Hold!" A voice boomed. Rashan's eyes snapped toward the sound. One of the stronger Sources approached him, a weakling blade glowing in the aether at his back. "I would face you, demon, in single combat."

  "Ah, so you know me," Rashan greeted the warrior. He was one of the blade-priests the Safschan relied on for the core of their forces. He was not an impressive specimen of their kind. "Would you honor me with your name sir? I am afraid the killing of nameless foes leaves little impression on my mind. So many, so many you see ..."

  "I am Diabach, of the blade," the blade-priest identified himself. He drew his rune-blade.

  "Say you understand, and the town is spared, Diabach," Rashan replied in winter-worn Takalish. He hoped it was good enough to be understood.

  "What manner of curse did you wish on me, Kadrin dog?" Diabach asked.

  "The curse of a shabby vocabulary of insults, it would seem," Rashan said. He drew Heavens Cry but let it dangle loose in his hand as he continued. "Dogs are virtuous beasts: they take training well, are vigilant in their duties, and would die for their masters. Call me a craven murderer, I quite liked that one. Or how about pestilent blood-merchant? I think that is my favorite this past season, though once boiled to its core it makes little sense. It had style and vitriol though and that counts for a great deal."

  "Are you here to fight or talk, Rashan Solaran?" Diabach asked, rune-blade held forth.

  "Very well, my impatient seeker of—"

  Bows strummed and arrows flocked to Rashan as if they were starved and he the last morsel to be had. A dozen and more struck the warlock's shielding spell and bounced off, all aimed quite remarkably well toward his head. A handful struck to the skull, two piercing it. All others were struck easily away.

  Diabach took the momentary opening to launch his attack, sliding one hand down to meet the other near the hilt and attacking Rashan while he was incapacitated.

  Clang!

  Heavens Cry struck the blade aside. With his free hand, Rashan pried the arrows loose from his head and crushed the shafts in his fist.

  "Why do you not bleed?" Diabach asked, eyes wider than before. "What manner of creature are you?"

  "You folk all call me 'demon,' but do you understand what you say?" Rashan parried twice more, the speed and strength behind his blade overpowering his mortal opponent's strikes and driving them wide.

  Treachery, warlock. Brannis betrayed by-

  Rashan frowned. It was a rather inconvenient place for the message to leave off.

  "I am afraid I am called to more pressing business," Rashan apologized, giving a small bow.

  The next of Diabach's swings Rashan did not attempt to avoid. He put out an arm and caught it on his shielding spell, reinforcing it just before impact. Heavens Cry slammed into Diabach's side, finding the blade-priest's defenses nearly as formidable. But Rashan had finished toying with his mouse. The force of the next blow drove the rune-blade right back into Diabach and Heavens Cry passed through the blade-priest's midsection.

  "Two blows. More than I would have wagered," Rashan spoke to the corpse. "Well done." Rashan gave Heavens Cry a flick of his wrist to clean it then used the tip to slide the rune-blade away from the entrails and spreading pool of blood.

  "Captain," Rashan shouted back to his own men. "Have at. Await my return before moving on."

  With that, Rashan rose above the Neirasch town square and disappeared in a sphere of aether.

  * * * * * * * *

  A crowd was beginning to gather about the shattered remains of the headquarters of the Kadrin Army. The debris, the dust, and the smoke from countless small fires kept them well back of the place, but by informal accord, a perimeter formed some distance back. That perimeter widened when a ball of aether arrived from nothingness to deposit Warlock Rashan between them and the destruction.

  "Oh my," Rashan said, sweeping his gaze across the building. He strode off toward where Kyrus and Celia lay. "I say," he called out, more loudly, "I do hope you won."

  "I might call it a draw. The building lies in ruins but so do I, it seems." Kyrus swept a gesture to his surroundings with one hand while the other held fast to Celia. She stirred in his embrace, twisting to face Rashan.

  "He saved me," she told the warlock.

  "What befell?" Rashan asked, "Skip the obvious for now. We shall lead up to that, I am sure." Rashan skipped from one rock chunk to another—walls, floor and ceiling all jumbled together, indistinguishable.

  "I was empowering my speaking stone," Kyrus began. "I ran into some difficulties on the innermost layer of the rune structure."

  "It was sabotaged." Celia spoke before Kyrus could elaborate and he snapped his head down to look at her, surprised by her assessment.

  "What?" Kyrus asked. "Sabotaged how?"

  "That flaw within the final rune. It trapped you into pouring too much aether into the crystal. Whoever did that must have wanted the device to explode, not simply fail. The damage was too well hidden; there was no way Brannis could have realized until it was too late."

  "You saw this?" Rashan asked her. He reached a point next to the recumbent pair, and towered over Kyrus.

  "It became obvious."

  "I had no idea you were so adept with runes," Rashan observed.

  "Well—" Kyrus began.

  "It was glowing like dawnfire," Celia said.

  Rashan looked to Kyrus who was lying amid the rubble he had created and clothed in rags. He fixed Kyrus with a withering, pitying glare.

  "So firehurler, you have botched this one quite well. What made you think the stone needed more aether when it was refusing all advancement? Did you think you would recarve the runes within as you went?"

  "It had always worked before," Kyrus replied, but he knew it to be a lame excuse even as he offered it. He tried to shrug, but found his circumstances greatly inconvenienced by Celia lying atop him.

  "How did you manage to survive the blast yourself?"

  "Celia warned me. I drew as much into my shielding spell as I could before the crystal shattered."

  "See, Brannis? I told you shields worked well against hurled fire. That essentially is what the blast was."

  Rashan turned to the wary crowd. It was full of staring eyes and idle hands.

  "Get to work. There will be a gold lion for each body pulled free, ten for anyone brought out alive. Get to it!"

  "I know who did it," Celia said. "Or at least, I can narrow it to two."

  "What two?" Rashan leaned closer, a viper's smile leering down at Celia. She did not flinch at his sudden closeness.

  "Dolvaen or Caladris," she replied.

  "What?" Kyrus and Rashan exclaimed in unison.

  "Ne
ither would have done the deed themselves, but they are the ones to whom all trails lead. Dolvaen opposes you from across the open plains of battle; Caladris opposes you from your own left hand."

  "You have evidence of this?" Rashan asked.

  "Of course. Brannis can act as witness."

  Kyrus felt a chill as the blood drained from his face, as well as his brain, stomach, and extremities. I am a dead man. Thank you, Celia. If you were twinborn I would have Brannis march over and strangle you myself. Kyrus managed to confuse himself even in his despairing thoughts.

  "Brannis, you know of this?" Rashan's eyes narrowed, boring into him, searching for deception. Undone by my own deeds. Better than getting caught lying for those two vipers.

  "Yes," he admitted.

  "And what part did you play in this?" The tone was neutral to Kyrus's ear but he watched the warlock for signs of a sudden draw just in case. Heavens Cry was of token concern.

  "Yours," Kyrus replied. "They both sought my aid in overthrowing you, being of the opinion— rightly I must say—that you rule Kadrin rather than Emperor Sommick."

  "Indeed." Rashan's eyebrows raised. A small grin accompanied it. Amusement, or trap?

  "So long as neither side received my aid, neither would act. I had but to persist in hedging to get Dolvaen to divulge more of his plan. Caladris was cagier. I was not even sure Celia knew of his crossways dealings," Kyrus finished. That felt good. What was that Axterion said about truth always being best? Blasted old fool is wiser than all of them.

  "Highly enlightening. Brannis, I must thank you. I have put you under more burden than I realized, and you have managed admirably. For the time being, I feel I must restore some measure of sanity by personal artifice. I will hold a meeting in the Inner Sanctum in an hour's time or whenever all the Inner Circle can be roused. I shall order the summons. Just clean yourselves and be present ... both of you."

  Rashan's rant had the rolling momentum of a seasoned politician, with no civil spot to break in for comment. Even as he finished, Rashan bounded off for the palace before Kyrus could form a question.

  "This ought to be fun," Celia muttered. She was close enough that Kyrus could feel her breath on his neck.

  "Why did you sell Caladris's name along with Dolvaen's? You have no traitors left to bargain with."

  "It was that or lose you once one of them used this as leverage to goad you into conflict with Rashan. You're no good at this Kyrus, much as you try to be. You've got more raw power than I can fathom. But at the same time, you're a menace because your little mistakes level buildings. Rashan's afraid of you, you know. If you prove yourself too uncontrollable, he'll kill you. Not try, just kill you."

  "I somehow doubt—"

  "No, he toys with armies. Don't finish that thought. Follow my lead and let Rashan take care of business how he sees fit. Become his true ally, and Kadrin will be safe and prosperous."

  "Why?" It all seemed so convoluted. Kyrus had kept up as best he could, but Celia was thrice a puzzle.

  "Because if I left things alone, I'd wind up married off to Caladris as a favor somewhere in the near future," Celia said. Kyrus was about to contradict her, but she cut him off. "I know, ruse within ruse. I fancy you well enough Kyrus, but we both know you just bide your time with me. Rashan will be mine and you can have your feral one, when she wanders home. You wouldn't," Celia appeared to struggle for a word, "settle for me."

  Kyrus swallowed. She knows. She figured it all.

  "Deal."

  * * * * * * * *

  "I may have only just been fitted for this crown sirs, but I find that this is below my station. I am not to be summoned in the middle of the night to stand in the middle of this ... this ... room of yours," Sommick said. He was standing between Celia and Kyrus, the only others not seated up in the row of Inner Circle sorcerers.

  "We pried you from between two whores, Your Highness. Your business hardly seemed pressing," Rashan replied, drawing a chorus of chuckles. It broke a mood that had been understandably tense given the warlock's surprise return and urgent, dark-hours meeting.

  "They were daughters of Hallimere and Pellaton," Sommick protested, drawing himself up to his most erect posture. The seats of the Inner Circle still towered well overhead, unimpressed.

  "Only the finest for you, Your Highness," Rashan mocked. "Now if we can dispense with the pleasantries, I will cut to the meat of this meeting. I would like to discuss a sword." Rashan slid Heavens Cry from its sheath, cradling it across his upturned palms. He paused long enough for all eyes to fix upon it.

  As everyone watched, he took the sword by the hilt. With a sudden burst of motion he skewered Dolvaen Lurien through the heart, crackling through his weak shielding spell.

  A riot erupted as Inner Circle members made themselves as scarce as possible without leaving the chamber.

  "Sit!" Rashan snapped. He drew a dripping blade from Dolvaen's body. "Caladris, would you say that justice was just done?" he asked.

  "Yes, Warlock Rashan," Caladris answered with a shaking voice.

  "Excellent."

  Rashan turned then to Caladris but the duplicitous sorcerer was not caught unawares as Dolvaen had been. A shielding spell stopped the first strike of Heavens Cry. Before a second could follow, an arc of lightning issued forth from Caladris's fingertips. Rashan was thrown bodily across the chamber and staked to the wall by the force of the blast as a secondary arc snapped and spat along the stonework.

  Kyrus put himself in front of Celia and Sommick who cowered next to her .So much for wards in this chamber preventing violence. Either they have been damaged, or they never existed.

  Taking care for how strongly he drew with the emperor so near, Kyrus reinforced his own shielding spell, putting a layer of aether between the combatants and where the emperor and Celia took shelter. The maneuver stole much of the free aether from the room, and Caladris, who had already taxed himself to his limit, could no longer hold the demon at bay. Rashan ran him through.

  One by one, Rashan asked Celia's verdict on each of the Inner Circle. Only Aloisha and Fenris were spared.

  Chapter 9 - Asymmetry

  "You see, Princess Shiann, we cannot defend all the towns and villages," General Kaynnyn Bal-Tagga said. "We must begin moving the people to larger cities, especially Lon Mai. This will be our stronghold."

  "She is right, Your Highness," a man in military regalia agreed. His starched red uniform and gold epaulettes marked him as a Ghelkan general. "There is no way to safeguard the populace."

  "For how long? How long do we empty the countryside and force our people to live in the overcrowded cities?" Princess Shiann asked. She turned from the planning table which was spread with maps marked with the locations of Ghelkan troops, and began a slow circuit of the room, fixing her attention to the portraits that hung on the wall encircling the war council. "Ten days? A season? Five winters? With farmers away from their fields, the land will lie fallow and any crops already planted will rot or feed our enemies. Worse yet, how will the cities feed so many refugees. Where would this food come from if the farmers are beggaring themselves in the streets?"

  "There will be hardship, princess," General Bal-Tagga said. She spread a pudgy, ringed hand across the map of Ghelk. "But these lands are all battlefields and should be treated as such. That Kadrin demon and his airships can arrive anywhere at any time."

  "Yes, but will he? Here he will find his nemesis reborn in our crypts. Even now, Grand Sorcerer Jinzan Fehr dons the mantle once worn by Loramar. Councilor Fehr even has that staff of his, a boon Loramar did not. The demon cannot be certain of his power. That uncertainty makes me wonder whether he would rather parlay with us than invade. Let him think us like the dragons. Let him fear our power within our own lair."

  "Princess, do you read Kadrin well?" General Bal-Tagga asked, her eyes downcast. The question bordered on the disrespectful.

  "Of course," Princess Shiann said, “I was tutored by the finest sages in Ghelk.” She pursed her lips, gra
cing the Megrenn Councilor with an expectant glare.

  "If a copy can be found, I believe that reading The Diplomacy of Fire and Steel would change your mind. ‘Let nobody live after they try to kill you,’" General Bal-Tagga said. She shook her head. "I wish I could believe he would let it pass, but Ghelk supplied sorcerers for the war and even a few troops. You have offered violence. It is only a matter of time now."

  There was a clamoring of guards outside. Raised voices came muddled through the chamber door and the assembled generals and Princess Shiann stopped their deliberations. There was a knock before the outer door opened.

  "Your Highness, forgive the intrusion. She insisted on—"

  Nakah Fehr pushed her way past the guard. "Why am I being kept from seeing my husband?"

  Only one pair of eyes would meet Nakah's gaze.

  "He is needed," Princess Shiann answered. "The comforts of flesh and family will distract him. His mind is set upon a task, and it is a gruesome path he takes to reach it."

  "I want to see him," Nakah insisted. She crossed her arms, attempting to stare down the princess. Shiann's eyes never faltered.

  "No."

  "I—" Nakah began.

  The princess raised a warning hand. Her jaw muscles clenched. Nakah's Megrenn habit of speaking her mind had reached its limit.

  "I would like to think of you as a friend, Nakah Fehr. For your own sake, you would do better to think of Councilor Jinzan as you last parted with him. It would cause you both pain to see one another right now."

  * * * * * * * *

  "What hour is it?" Jinzan asked, rubbing his eyes. The crypts of Loramar were a hive of sorcerers now that word had spread of Jinzan's successorship. Whereas he started with two acolytes at his command, he now had two-score sorcerers, only five of whom were quite as disturbing to be around as his first two. The eyeless ones were true believers, followers in Loramar's ways from bits and pieces they had scraped together. The rest were more typical Ghelkan sorcerers, fey and weird by Megrenn or Kadrin standards, but human and alive to all appearances.