“What about the Gods?”
Shaking his head, Elades said, “You already know the answer to that from what you witnessed in Gracia. Lady Dalpha is gone, and she shall not return. Duke is truly immortal; death cannot take him. He can be laid low for some time. But he always recovers. Once he’s freed, of course.”
“What happened to him? I was with him until the last few moments.”
“From what I have heard, Duke saved those Daggers in that cart over there. He shielded them from some of the falling debris. However, a large tree fell, and Duke threw them to safety, but was unable to get out of the way himself. A second tree broke and crushed him before he could break free from the first.”
Dohma looked at the twelve Daggers riding in the other cart. Yes, he would sacrifice himself to save others.
As they came into camp, the applause abated, and people returned to the necessary tasks of regrouping. Dohma watched as, in spite of the events, everyone not involved with support tasks or caring for the wounded was busy mending their gear and weapons. A distinct air of battle preparation was underway.
“M’Lord, Duke’s last words were, ‘Follow Dohma.’” Elades’ comment broke him out of his reverie.
One of the Daggers in the other cart laughed and called out, “Not exactly! There were a couple of choice curses leading up to that.”
Everyone chuckled, knowing that was Duke’s character, as Elades waved away the intrusion.
Dohma let the words drop into his mind. He couldn’t help looking at the hill of corpses. The numbers appeared to have doubled and continued to grow. Bodies were laid out so closely that there were hundreds of squares with only narrow walking paths between them.
The other carts stopped next to the hospital tents, and were overrun with people helping to unload the wounded. Elades drove Duke’s cart up close to the command pavilions. It took twenty strong men to carry Duke into his pavilion. Ladro, Duke’s personal secretary, had the center of the pavilion cleared and dozens of piles of pillows and blankets formed into a bed for Duke’s body. As he was leaving Duke’s tent, Dohma noticed Ladro was arranging maps and a working table near Duke’s head, as if he expected the wolf to sit up and demand the latest information.
Elades waited for Dohma outside by the large fire at the center of the commanding officer’s tent area. Elades looked at him and held out a glass vial.
Dohma took the vial and looked at it. It held a silvery fluid that swirled with traces of pink. He was pretty sure it was a healing potion of some type. “What is this?”
“Dalpha’s last gift to you.”
“What?”
“It’s from Boadua. She said that Sula, Dalpha’s daughter, was in Llino and had had the temple making healing brews for cycles. Boadua just brought one for me and one for you.”
Dohma shook his head and held it out. “I don’t need it. Please send this back to her with my thanks. It’s too precious to waste. There are many who could use it.”
Elades, appearing to be much better, turned and looked Dohma over with a critical eye. “You came through amazingly well, but you’re holding your side and limping, and I note there are small spasms in your left arm. I know you were in the center of it. How can you be sure you don’t have internal injuries? We need you to be healthy and alive. Duke is the only one who doesn’t need one of these.”
“No, I was almost killed,” Dohma said, shaking the vial. “However, my...family saved me. I don’t know how, but they healed me, all the way from Llino. It was very strange.”
Elades grunted. “And you don’t believe in Duke’s possible recovery. It seems there are many mysteries here, and…” he said, glancing at his right hand, “…just as many miracles.” Elades reached out and closed Dohma’s fingers around the vial. “Still, m’Lord, keep it safe and near. You may yet need it.” He looked down. “I’d like to clean up a bit. Or do you have orders for the armies that need attending to now?”
Dohma felt a slight jump in his stomach. “Orders for the armies?”
“Yes. Duke has left you in charge of the Imperial Armies.”
Llino is under siege. I could order the armies south to break that force and insure Electra, Bayion, and Ellua are safe.
He turned and stared into the fire. No, that would be wrong. I must do what is right for the Empire and the Alliance.
He looked at the hill of bodies. “Continue search and rescue. Secure this location. And yes, you may get cleaned up. I need what officers we have gathered in the morning. Let’s give everyone this evening to clean up, get treated, and get some rest. I want to inspect what’s left of that base before we decide what to do next. Tomorrow, start the funeral pyres. We will give all honors to our dead before we move on.”
Elades raised his hand to his chest in salute and limped off.
Dohma grabbed a chair and sat down to stare at the fire.
We must have lost over half the attack force, if not the majority of them. This weapon was not detected by our mages, and it killed not only the people, but the forests, too. He leaned back, looking at the clear sky. We cannot allow such weapons to be used again. Imagine the fear if people learned whole towns could be wiped from existence in a white flash. This burden is heavy. I have to stand tall and command. The armies cannot see me bending under the weight.
Hiri-Rula
Hiri-Rula chewed her lip as she watched Elades walk away from Lord Dohma. He looked like a man with a lot to consider. Since there was nothing else to do, and she didn’t want to lose sight of Dohma, she tuned the power flows to enhance her hearing. After a few seconds, she decided it was too distracting. There weren’t any interesting conversations in the nearby area, so she reduced the power levels to normal. She continued to watch Lord Dohma as he glowered, transfixed by the fire. After many minutes, Dohma looked up, frowned, turned, and began walking with a purpose. She floated after him.
As she followed, she reveled in the power the small oval mirror in her hand gave her. It was an amazing find. It had been tucked inside of a special book that not only had a padded silk storage area built into it, but held an equally valuable treasure in research into divination incantations. The looking glass the result of a lifetime of work, which was meticulously recorded in the book. The fact that the volume had sat on the shelf untouched for hundreds of years was a wonder. When she’d asked, she found that all the mages under her command had ignored it because of the unadorned binding and title, ‘Practical Thoughts on Divination’.
Hiri-Rula had to admit that she’d only picked it up by accident. But the sealed compartment had intrigued her, and opening it had revealed the beautiful mirror. Her curiosity was lit on fire, and she’d spent an entire cycle studying the book, incantations, and mirror before experimenting with the unusual formulae embedded in it. It took another cycle before she’d gained enough understanding to use its most basic abilities.
There were still many incantations she couldn’t understand, which were yet to be explored in the compact artifact. But that night, she was pushing her limits. She’d traveled farther than ever before to gather intelligence. The further she pushed her sight, the more power the mirror demanded. She was using an excessive amount of mana, and it was taxing her strength.
She felt like she was in a dream when she scried on people with the device. It allowed her to watch and listen to almost any place she could find with her mind. Getting there was even more dreamlike. Moving out and flying around the world felt like being one of the Gods. She could be present almost anywhere, but she was invisible. She could flow through walls and doors, sail high into the air, or simply float in the middle of a room. In short, she was able to do something she’d often dreamed of doing her whole life.
It was difficult to maintain concentration, and it took a surprising amount of magic to use the device. But she’d always been a superior mage because of h
er willpower and ability to maintain focus, even when dealing with many things at once.
Through study and experimentation, she’d discovered she could cast certain incantations through the mirror. She could use telekinesis to move things and even use magic to start fires. She wasn’t sure what the limitation was, or if it might break the artifact, which was a risk she dared not take, so she kept any such manipulations small.
The fact that she had the mirror, or the abilities, she kept to herself. They were far beyond anything the Nhia-Samri were aware of, and she was concerned with what might be demanded of her, or worse, that they would take it for study if they found out about it. She’d decided to avoid scrying on anything near Hisuru Amajoo. The urge to look in on her father was strong, but her fear of discovery by Shar-Lumen was even greater.
Dohma returned to the medical enclosures and was busy talking to the staff about casualty numbers. Hiri-Rula knew she needed to gather some more intel, but before she left, she cast an incantation to leave a marker on Dohma’s new right boot. Her mind could activate that marker and trace it anywhere in the world through the mirror. That would let her find Lord Dohma again easily.
She felt her strength weakening. She couldn’t continue to channel that level of power for much longer. She decided to check on Duke. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she floated up through the top of the tent. It was easy to identify Duke’s tent, so she drifted there, listening for any information as she passed.
Duke was a complete mystery. He had so many unusual abilities that he never mentioned, and yet he would use them without a worry about discovery as needed. It was possible that Duke would be able to detect her presence. What had her most worried was that in her research of past Nhia-Samri encounters with him, Duke had demonstrated the ability to ‘smell’ magic, as he described it, and identify it.
Inside Duke’s tent, his staff had set up a table with food and drink, and there was a work table with maps. Duke wasn’t breathing. She floated down and examined him. Blood didn’t run from his open wounds; there was no heartbeat to pump it. There was little chance anything could live, given the amount of damage. Yet everyone, including Shar-Lumen, had called that a delaying tactic, and fully expected Duke to come around with a vengeance.
Even Duke’s Dagger, Elades, said he would recover. I wonder how it is that Duke can be so resilient.
She resolved to check on the wolf regularly. Looking around the room, she decided one of Ladro’s ink bowls would likely stay near Duke. She cast an incantation, placing as small a channel as she could into the bowl’s metal to let her find it when she wanted to. She didn’t dare put such a hook onto Duke, no matter how tempting that was. He probably had the ability to trace such a thing straight back to her.
How often does Duke inspect his secretary’s tools?
She was just about to release the incantation when an officer brought in some papers and gave them to Duke’s secretary, Ladro. He put them on the table near Duke’s head. Curious, she drifted over and read. Checking to be sure that no one was around, she used her telekinetic power to move the pages enough to read them completely.
They were early Alliance battle reports. Her stomach lurched when one paper revealed the Alliance’s estimated casualty report for the battle. She knew they would be bad, but she had no idea until that moment how many lives were being affected. Her own base had been attacked prior to formal war being declared, killing her commander, friends, and teachers.
Many Nhia-Samri bases had been attacked, killing almost 30,000 Imperial warriors and over 10,000 Nhia-Samri. Tears welled in her eyes, and she gasped, losing all control of the incantations. The connection to the mirror lost, concentration broken, she fell onto the carpeted floor, her mind racing. The casualty report numbers bounced around her thoughts ripping her apart. The broken magic channels, so violently lost, burned her as magic spilled uncontrolled into her body causing even more pain. Excess power flowed from her, scorching the carpet and stone floor.
That wasn’t a strategic trap or a delaying maneuver; it was a massacre. They had no chance.
She recalled seeing the dismembered head of Colonel Mishia-Ollan staring at her. His last thoughts had been how proud he was of her and that she should avenge him with honor. Those last two words burnt as painfully as the wild magic and casualty numbers.
In a single trap, I killed almost 200,000 people. Twice that number are wounded for life. That’s more than died in all of the past wars combined!
Her stomach lurched with nausea as painful spasms forced her last meal and bile out her mouth and nose running over her head to pool under her. She tried to move, but all her strength had fled. She could only muster enough willpower to push her head out of the pool of vomit. Lying there, she cried until she had no more tears to shed. Still, she wept for the proud person she once was. She’d become a monster, the very monster most citizens of the Alliance thought all Nhia-Samri were.
The plan was Shar-Lumen’s, she told herself, to no avail. She wanted to disappear and cease to exist.
‘No, little sister. You could not know,’ said a deep and caring voice that reminded her of her grandfather.
‘Now, you do know. You must find a way to stop the next,’ added a light and airy female voice.
Hiri-Rula opened her eyes and looked around. The pungent smell of vomit hung in the air, but her private office was empty. The door was still bolted shut, as were the two windows. She weakly uncurled and pushed herself up to sit.
“Who said that?”
She climbed into her chair. The voices had been near; she was sure of that. She summoned her power and made sure her shields were ready. Slowly rotating, she examined every niche and corner of the room. She was alone.
“I left the mage-gate open for them to flee and pushed its terminus farther away from the base before it failed.”
The room remained silent. Wiping the dried vomit from her face, she knew the voices had been true. Maybe they were just her imagination. She considered the past weeks. Something had been going on, and Warlord Eshra-Zunia knew. Hiri-Rula had only been brought in a few days before to organize the mages to pull their warriors out of the base before the trap sprung. The base, their warriors, and even Warlord Eshra-Zunia were to be the bait to bring Duke and his best into position.
Hiri-Rula had no idea they were going to detonate the magical generator. That had been intentionally left out of the details shared with everyone she was aware of.
Thanks to the mirror and book on the scrying sciences, she’d learned not only what powered the Nhia-Samri bases, but also the devastating potential it held.
I must make sure it’s never used that way again.
Because of the advanced scrying incantations, she’d been able to observe clearly what the warlord had done. She saw how the Nhia-Samri warriors had engaged in combat with Lord Dohma, drawing Duke to the location.
She was aware of how potent Lord Dohma might be, as there were whispered rumors that he’d fought Shar-Lumen to a stand-off in Gracia. Naturally, the warlord wanted to test herself against him. Hiri-Rula had been shocked as she watched Lord Dohma prove superior to the warlord. If it hadn’t been for her magical escape, being pulled back to a secondary gate kilometers away, Lord Dohma would likely have killed or captured her.
Hiri-Rula smiled. It was information she might be able to use, if needed, to prevent the warlord from using another Nhia-Samri base in the same way.
Her reputation as the best of the warriors, second only to the First Warlord, would be ruined if that information became known.
Her guilt had ebbed slightly, especially after she considered all the facts. Even more important was that she’d seen how the warlord had sabotaged the magical generator, and that it was something she was sure the warlord and Shar-Lumen wished to keep secret.
Hiri-Rula was also amazed that the new scryin
g incantations had allowed her to seize control of the mage-gate next to Lord Dohma, keeping it open and moving its terminus farther away from the base, giving the escaping warriors more of a chance. If she’d known the destructive capabilities of the magic generator, she would’ve pushed the gate even farther away. However, at the time, she’d been worried about the movement of the terminus being discovered by Lord Dohma or anyone else. That was a secret she was worried her superiors might discover, as it would mean her death.
Tapping her own base’s magic, she brushed away all signs of vomit from herself and the room. She placed the mirror back into the book, sealing the compartment with even more protections than it had originally. She was just about to put the volume back on her shelf when she paused.
I cannot leave this. My report will not go well.
She opened the book and found an incantation she’d only recently mastered. Refreshing her mind on it, she weaved the channels. She pulled from an air line nearby, instead of from her base’s power, to avoid any possible detection by other Nhia-Samri mages. Using the fresh power, she wrapped the book in the sensory-deception incantation. Anyone who found the book would find their attention slipping from it, making it almost invisible. The book then went into her shoulder pouch, instead of back to the shelf.
She stepped out of her study and headed for the throne room. Her pace was the measured step of someone in authority with important business. As she moved, one of her aids noticed her bearing and wordlessly fell into step with her. He did not ask, or even expect to be told, what she was about. He was doing his sworn duty to support her and be ready for whatever was called for.
She considered what she was going to report. Long-range intelligence was always problematic, which was why the Nhia-Samri had their bases and outposts. Spying was still the most reliable means to know what was happening. Her enhanced ability to see clearly at such a distance was entirely unique. Mages had many devices and abilities to see some things or to sense others. Most such incantations involved placing hooks into people, or things that allowed them to become the focus of the divination. She would need to not lie, but then also not reveal too much.
Thread Skein (Golden Threads Trilogy Book 3) Page 26