Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4)

by Michael G. Manning

  The one on watch started to threaten him with his spear, until he realized it was the Royal Marshal. “I didn’t want no part of it,” the soldier blurted out. “That’s why I’m just watching the door.”

  Will killed the other three with force-lances, not even bothering to wait for their explanations. To the man on watch he said, “The only reason you’re going to leave this building alive is because I need you to tell people what happened here. In my eyes, you’re just as guilty.”

  The remaining soldier lost control of his bladder. “You just killed them. Shouldn’t there be a trial?” he whined.

  Will nodded. “There should be, but I don’t care. Feel free to try and bring charges against me after the war is over. In the meantime, tell your friends what happened here, because I’ll do the same to any others I find doing such deeds.” He waited until the soldier had left before turning to leave himself, trying not to look at the face of the woman who had been wronged.

  In his mind all he could see was his aunt, who had been wronged and then murdered in front of him. It took everything he had to walk away.

  “Aren’t you going to help her?” asked Laina.

  “I have to finish this battle,” he responded coldly. “Unless the fighting ends soon there will be even more tragedies.”

  “We could at least make sure she’s safe.”

  Will looked to one side, afraid to meet her eyes, but his gaze fell upon something even worse, the body of a child lying in the gutter. “Stay here and do that. I have to find Sub-Marshal Spry and get this under control.”

  Laina’s heart was torn in two directions. “I promised to keep you safe,” she growled.

  A squad of soldiers rounded the corner just then, and Will called out to them. “Stop!” Once he had their attention, he interrogated them to find out which way to go in search of the sub-marshal, then he gave them some instruction. “Keep watch on this shop and make sure no one bothers the inhabitants further.” He gave them a brief description of what had occurred, then left.

  A minute later, he realized Laina and Darla were still with him, but he didn’t comment. From there it took another quarter of an hour before he found the sub-marshal. Bartholomew Spry stood with several companies just outside the gate leading into the main keep. Messengers were running in and out, giving him reports from various parts of the city as well as updating him on the situation with First Division outside.

  Will made his way through the crowded soldiers. “What’s our situation?” he asked without preamble.

  The sub-marshal’s face brightened when he saw Will. “There’s still some fierce fighting within the city, but it will be ours. The bridges are down, and First is trying to force those that remain on this side to surrender. They’d be fools not to.”

  He nodded. “And here?”

  Spry glanced at the keep, then looked back. “The keep is solid. Taking it will be even harder, unless you can convince them to open the gates like you did with the city.”

  “How long will it take to stop the fighting in the streets?” asked Will.

  The sub-marshal sighed. “There are squads scattered all over. It will take quite a while to find everyone and get them back under control.”

  During which time some of them will do who knows what, thought Will grimly. He needed to talk to the Darrowan commander to stop the fighting, and he needed to send runners all over the city to reorganize the scattered elements of Second Division. He could understand why it would take so much time.

  But he didn’t want to wait. He needed to be heard.

  Laina and Spry looked at him in mild alarm as they felt the turyn in the air begin to shift, drawn by invisible currents toward where Will was standing. Ordinarily, his turyn absorption wasn’t really noticeable, but his ability had slowly grown over the past year and now the sorcerers around him were easily able to see the streamers of turyn flowing into his body.

  Will knew what he was doing on an unspoken level, but he would have been hard pressed to find the words to explain it to someone else. After he had taken in as much as he could, he reversed the flow. The gathered energy raced outward in fine threads, winding its way through the air and lacing itself through the turyn that permeated the rest of the city. In an instant, he went from controlling just himself, to controlling the turyn he had gathered, to influencing the magical energy all throughout the city.

  It was something he had done on smaller scales while practicing with the student sorcerers before the war, but now Will took it to a much greater level. Opening his lips he began to speak, and the air conducted his voice flawlessly to every part of the city.

  “I call truce!” Will gave his first words a volume and deep timbre that demanded attention, shocking all who heard it into stillness, even as it sent a shiver through the foundations of Klendon. His following words were loud and clear, but not so frightening or overwhelming. Later people would recall that it hadn’t been an intense or thundering voice. The sound wasn’t centered on Will, for if it had been, he would have had to shatter the eardrums of those closest to him to be heard throughout the city.

  Instead his voice came from everywhere, as though he stood in every room, every street, every place within Klendon. It was strong and firm, and no one could fail to understand him. “This is William Cartwright, Royal Marshal and commander of the Terabinian army. The fighting is to cease immediately. Any soldier, any citizen, man, woman, or child, found fighting after this point I will hold personally responsible. Cease the conflict until Captain Commander Durant and I conclude our negotiations.”

  Then he finished with, “Captain Durant, this is the moment I spoke of previously. Open the gates and surrender now. I will uphold the terms I gave you before. Refuse me and I will hold you accountable for every drop of blood spilled from this hour forward.”

  Will felt faint as he finished and released his hold on the trailing remnants of the turyn he had used. Silence fell over Klendon, and the world itself seemed to be holding its breath. Sub-Marshal Spry stared at him in astonishment. “How did you…?”

  Swaying, Will ordered, “Send out your runners. Start rounding them up and leave the people of the city alone. No more fighting tonight. They’ll either surrender soon or we can slaughter them tomorrow. We’re in the city and they can’t dislodge us now.” He stumbled then, but a large hand caught his shoulder, keeping him steady. Will glanced to his side and saw Tiny standing there.

  The quiet remained in the minutes that followed, as though everyone in the city had gone to church and was afraid to disturb the peace. Will waited while Second Division re-formed, and while he did, a loud groan came from the gates protecting the interior of the keep. They swung slowly open and Captain Commander Lionell Durant walked out, his hands empty.

  “I would like to tender my surrender.”

  Chapter 31

  Will stared at the Darrowan commander, then nodded. “You’ll have to endure some indignity, but I’ll keep my word. For now, order your soldiers to exit the keep and surrender their arms.”

  Durant looked back into the keep. “I need to confer with my men for a moment. Will you trust me?”

  Will snorted, then regretted it when a blood clot broke free and spoiled the moment. Someone offered him rag, and he used it to pinch his nose shut as he replied, “You’re trusting me to preserve your place after this war is done. Next to that I’m not particularly worried about what you might do in the next few minutes.”

  Lionell Durant watched him with a worried expression, then started to go back in, but he stopped for a moment. “You should rest soon. You don’t look very well.” He disappeared into the keep after that.

  Durant was true to his word, however, and a few minutes later the soldiers of Klendon began emerging to surrender. Their officers joined them, and soon the conversation among Will’s senior staff turned to practical matters of occupying the fortress and safely managing the newly surrendered Darrowans.

  Sub-Marshal Nerrow and Commander Lambel appeared s
hortly after that, and with Laina’s help they finally convinced Will to take the regeneration potion. His appearance improved dramatically after that as his arm mended and the bruises on his face vanished, but as expected, his battle-fatigue was multiplied by the exhaustion brought on by the healing magic. Unable to resist its pull, Will’s eyelids sagged, and Tiny and one of the other soldiers loaded him onto a stretcher to carry him to his tent.

  ***

  He awoke to darkness after a deep and dreamless slumber. Will’s first instinct was to get up immediately as a brief surge of panic went through him. How long was I asleep? He worried about what might have happened while he was unconscious, but he froze when he heard voices nearby.

  They were immediately recognizable as his father and Laina, as well as Scholar Sundy. From the direction, Will guessed they were seated together in the forward portion of his command tent, separated from him by a few layers of canvas and a distance of no more than twenty feet or so. Their voices were soft enough that he couldn’t immediately make out what they were saying, but his curiosity got the better of him. Adjusting his hearing, Will began to listen.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that,” said Mark Nerrow. “I haven’t even imagined anything like that.”

  Laina responded first, “You mean you’ve never heard anything like that.”

  Irritated, her father growled back, “You know what I mean! How was that even possible? It was as though he was standing right beside me—and everyone else. Even the men in the other divisions outside the city heard him clearly. I get shivers just thinking about it.”

  “You knew he had some unusual abilities—” began Laina, but her father interrupted.

  “This goes well beyond unusual abilities, Laina! You’d have to look back at some of the more fanciful histories to find anything like what he did last night,” said Mark.

  “He held the gates against who knows how many soldiers, a few sorcerers, and a vampire, and you’re more worried about the fact that he cast his voice across the city? Are you sure you have your priorities straight?” asked Laina.

  Elizabeth Sundy spoke then. “Your father is correct in this. What he did at the gate was extraordinary, but it was still within the realm of believability. The thing he did with his voice, I don’t think I would have credited it if I hadn’t heard it myself, even if every person in this army swore it was the truth.”

  “Are you saying he’s some sort of monster?” There was a hard edge to her voice as she asked the question, as though she was on the verge of losing her temper.

  “Of course not,” said Mark Nerrow in a placating tone. “We’re just trying to understand what happened, and to make sure that there isn’t something more serious to worry about.”

  “Such as?” Laina demanded.

  Her father’s voice was resigned as he answered her, “Such as, how did he obtain that strange power? There were rumors in the past about the fae, and we know he’s dealt with demons before. How do we know he hasn’t made some sort of desperate bargain?”

  “I know,” declared Laina, “and if you had any sense you’d know too.”

  Elizabeth broke in, trying to head off the incipient argument. “I don’t think suspecting him of warlockry is justified, Lord Nerrow. As astounding as it seems, I think it more likely he’s displaying a new facet of this strange new wizardry he espouses.”

  The baron laughed. “Next you’ll tell me you think he’ll live for centuries like the wizards in those historical fictions!”

  “Lord Courtney isn’t so sure that there isn’t some truth to those stories as well,” replied the scholar. “He’s put quite a bit of faith in the Royal Marshal’s unusual training.”

  “And do you believe them?” asked Mark.

  “I am not sure,” Elizabeth answered honestly.

  Will couldn’t see them, but in his imagination, he felt sure Laina was biting her tongue as she pondered whether or not to mention the things he had told her about his life expectancy. She said nothing, and Will smiled in amusement, in part because he knew she was probably annoyed as hell and also because he knew she was doing her best to protect him.

  Rising from the cot, he went and joined them. None of them mentioned the subject of their conversation before he arrived.

  Over the next week, they solidified their hold over Klendon. The officers and significant leaders were sent to Barrowden to be kept humanely until the war was over while the Darrowan soldiers were simply relieved of their weapons and armor and sent home. Most of the garrison had families either in Klendon or the nearby regions, but some of those who lived farther away expressed concern about returning after having surrendered. Will allowed some of them to remain and serve as low-paid labor, though they were kept away from tasks that might allow them to sabotage Terabinia’s efforts.

  Repair efforts were started on the bridges. Ironically, the two wooden bridges would be the most difficult, since their structural supports had been damaged. The big stone bridge was far easier, for Scholar Sundy and the engineers had been able to set up their spell-bombs to precisely destroy just one section without damaging either of the two of the major support columns that it ran between. It was a matter of only a day or two for sorcerers with earth elementals to recreate that portion.

  The few sorcerers they found in Klendon were relieved of their elementals, which Will released, though he was tempted to give them to his student sorcerers. In the end, his conscience wouldn’t allow it. Lognion had given the students their elementals, but if Will did the same he would be one step closer to becoming what he despised.

  All in all, the transfer of power in Klendon was surprisingly smooth. There were some mutterings when he ordered the Church of the Prophet torn down, but it appeared that the official state religion was less popular than the Patriarch wanted others to believe. Will gathered some additional insight when he interviewed the Darrowan commander one last time before the man was sent to Barrowden.

  “Before you leave, I want to thank you for being sensible,” Will began. “Your decision wasn’t easy, but it saved a lot of lives.”

  Lionell Durant studied him in silence for a moment, then said, “I still don’t know what to make of you, Your Grace.”

  “Let’s drop the formalities,” said Will. “And what do you mean? I’ve been nothing but honest with you.”

  “I mean your civility. You just thanked your former enemy.”

  “I appreciate your use of the term ‘former,’” observed Will.

  Lionell shook his head. “It might not be a compliment. I’m still not sure what the deciding factor was, trust or fear. When we first met, I thought you a fool, but when you reached the keep it became clear that I was badly mistaken.”

  “I’m just glad you stopped the fighting when you did.”

  “I’d like to claim I had a higher motive, but frankly, you scared the shit out of me.”

  Will frowned, thinking about it for a moment. He had trouble understanding how other people viewed him. He felt he was merely being honest in his dealings, but as time went on, he couldn’t help but wonder if some saw him in the same light he saw Lognion. The thought was a cold lump in his stomach, but he shook it off. “I have some questions for you before you leave.”

  “Although I’ve surrendered, I won’t betray my oath,” said Lionell. “If you succeed in replacing the Patriarch, I won’t be sad, but I won’t forswear myself.”

  Will nodded. “When we were approaching, there was a trap laid for us along the road. How did your men know which road we would take? I switched the route just a day and a half before we took it.”

  “I was given knowledge in advance,” admitted Lionell.

  “From who?”

  “From military command.”

  “Do you know where they got their information?”

  Lionell looked down regretfully. “That I cannot say, but I will tell you that I don’t know the details that you truly seek.”

  Will watched him carefully. “You don’t know
who the traitor among us is?”

  “If there is one, I couldn’t confirm or deny it, nor would I know his name.”

  He noted the use of the male pronoun, though it wasn’t much of a hint, since the vast majority of those on campaign with him were male. Will switched topics. “If the information came from your superiors, how did it reach you so quickly? For that matter, how did it reach them so quickly?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Does the Darrowan military have some new form of communication?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “Do your superiors already know that Klendon has fallen?”

  Lionell locked eyes with him, hesitating, then answered, “Given what you already know, it would be reasonable to assume they do.”

  “Do they know?” Will asked again.

  “I cannot say.”

  Will closed his eyes, mulling it over. It was clear enough that the Darrowans had some form of extremely fast communication and Lionell had practically just confirmed it. He went to his next question. “Are there more vampires among the rest of the Darrowan army?”

  Lionell started, seeming surprised. “What?”

  “Drak’shar, blood-drinkers, cursed children of the dragon,” Will clarified. “Vampires. I met one in battle at your gates.”

  “Vampires are a myth,” replied Lionell, but there was some uncertainty in his voice. “There have been rumors, but it’s just the talk of superstitious people.”

  Will said nothing, merely staring into the Darrowan’s eyes.

  “W-we heard rumors about Cerria, but no one really believed them,” stammered Lionell.

  “They weren’t rumors, and I’ve seen far too many of them to entertain your doubts. I’m more interested in Darrow at the moment. What rumors have you heard about your own country?”

  Lionell swallowed, then answered, “The man you probably fought was named Troy. He was sent here by High Command to assist with troop training. There were some who thought he might be demon-touched, like the Shimeran priests, but he couldn’t have been a vampire.”