Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4)

by Michael G. Manning

  Will shook his head. “Even if I had died, my choice mattered.”

  She laughed. “You’re mad.”

  “No. Think of it like the rules that used to bind you. Humans aren’t trapped by such arbitrary rules, but sometimes we make our own. One of the choices I decided to make was to not abandon my friends and family, even if it will cost me everything. It might not make sense to you, but it’s my choice and I’ll stand by it.”

  Tailtiu remained still after he finished, as though she was considering his words, but then she laughed. “Your choice is stupid. Fortunately, sick though I am, I have the wisdom to choose intelligently, even if that means my freedom is limited.” Reaching out, she took Dinner from Will’s hands, then lifted him to her face and sniffed the puppy’s round belly. “This is one of the few things I am free to choose.”

  Her mouth widened, and rows of needle-like teeth appeared. She paused then, studying her small canine snack, then pulled the little dog away from her lips. Her mouth closed, and her head returned to normal. “I am also logical enough to wait until my meal has grown.” She tucked the pup into the crook of her arm and turned away. “I will await your call.”

  Will breathed a sigh of relief. She was bluffing, he told himself, but in reality he wasn’t sure. He lifted a hand to wave as he walked away, heading for the cave and the congruence point that would take him to his mother’s house.

  Chapter 54

  Erisa was out in front of the house when Will walked around from behind. She was bent over and busily working at a washboard that was half submerged into a wooden tub. To avoid startling her, Will made a wide circle and approached from a direction that would allow her to spot him moving before he got close.

  She looked up, and as recognition dawned on her face, it quickly transformed into a question. “William? How? Why are you here?” Her hands released the dress she was holding, and it slipped back into the water. “The war can’t be over already, can it? Did something happen?”

  “I’m fine. The war is almost won,” said Will, moving over and reaching into the water. He moved his hands around and collected all the items floating inside and then removed them and piled them into the basket his mother reserved for items that were ready to be wrung out. Another basket stood beside it, holding the rest of the washing that still needed to go into the tub. With a thought, he used Selene’s Solution and in less than a minute all of it was both clean and dry.

  His mother had seen the spell used before, so she expected his action. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure you will have lots of questions, so I bet you don’t mind me freeing up your afternoon.”

  She smiled, then asked, “What’s wrong? I can see something is bothering you.”

  Will glanced around. “Where’s Sammy and Uncle Johnathan?”

  “Branscombe. Johnathan had a new wagon to deliver, and Samantha needed a diversion to keep her out of trouble, so she went with him.”

  A tiny amount of his worry lifted. He wouldn’t have to tell them—yet. His mother still remained, and she had been very attached to her nephew, but perhaps he could wait and tell her on another occasion. It made no sense to tell her now, while the others were away. The news would have to be delivered twice. Plus it wouldn’t do for her to hear it while alone. Will would have to leave almost as soon as he’d gotten there, so—

  “Talk to me, William. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he lied. “I’m just worried. Things have gone well. We’ve defeated the Darrowan armies, the Patriarch is dead, and all that’s left is to capture Myrsta, but we’re facing an incursion of demons. That’s why I’m here. I need to borrow Arrogan’s old lab again.”

  His mother blinked, then moved to study him from a slightly different angle. “And what about Eric? How is he doing?”

  “I haven’t seen him,” said Will. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to fraternize, so I’ve kept my distance—”

  “Was he injured?” she asked, cutting through his attempt at circumlocution.

  “He’s fine.” The words left his mouth even as his brain registered horror at the lie. She’d asked him directly and he’d still lied. There would be hell to pay later.

  Or sooner. Erisa’s hand caught him across the cheek hard enough to leave a red print there. He’d seen it coming, but apparently even his reflexes were smart enough to know to stay out of family matters. “Let’s forget you said that and start over,” she told him firmly. “Is he dead, or badly hurt?”

  Since learning of Eric’s death, Will hadn’t been able to cry. He’d gotten a little sentimental with Selene, but his grief hadn’t reached the surface. It had remained stubbornly buried. The pain of his mother’s slap made his eyes water, and as he answered her question the emotions trapped within him began to spill over. “He’s dead, Mom. He’s dead and it’s my fault.”

  Her arms went around him, and nothing more was said for some time. The embrace was awkward due to the breastplate and mail he wore, but Erisa didn’t complain. After the first wave had passed, she helped him remove the breastplate, then suggested, “Let’s go into the house.”

  And so, they did. Will’s mother put the kettle on the stove while he removed his mail and gambeson, and then they talked. Erisa remained calm throughout, though as the conversation progressed, Will broke down several more times.

  Without the armor, her hugs were considerably more comforting, and eventually Will felt a little better. He couldn’t breathe through his nose, and his eyes felt red and swollen, but the pressure in his chest seemed to have lessened. His mother had teared up a few times, but hadn’t really cried the same way that he had. “I thought it would be worse for you than me,” he remarked to her.

  Erisa dabbed at her eyes with a towel once more. “Did you cry when you found out?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Sometimes it’s like that,” she responded, then she held up the towel. “Even these tears weren’t for Eric, they were for you.”

  “But you loved him as much as I did,” argued Will.

  “I can see your pain right now, and no mother can watch her child suffer without suffering as well.” She stared at the floor with a blank expression. “Eric doesn’t feel real to me, not yet. When it does—well, you don’t get to my age without losing people. It won’t be easy. I’ll probably break down when I have to tell Johnathan and Sammy.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do that. It’s my responsibility.”

  She held up her hand. “Family is family. They won’t be back for days, and I’m sure you won’t be here by then, will you?”

  It was his turn to stare at the floorboards. He shook his head, then suggested, “You could wait…”

  “In my experience, that is almost always a mistake, which is why I tried to slap some sense into you outside,” she responded. “Pain is pain, and it won’t get any better if I hide it from them. They’ll just be hurt more by my lack of trust and honesty. Remember that.”

  He nodded. “I will, Mom.”

  “Do you have time to eat? Will you be spending the night?”

  “I’m hungry. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying, though. That will depend on the trolls,” he answered.

  “How about some honeyed oatcakes and milk?”

  That had been one of his favorites since childhood. “You have milk?”

  “Johnathan bought a cow. Things have been looking up around here,” she told him. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Mom.”

  Will watched his mother bustling about and quietly wondered when she had gotten so small. Erisa had a strong personality and unshakeable confidence, necessary traits for a midwife dealing with people during some of the most trying moments of their lives. Consequently, she had always seemed bigger than she really was when he’d been a child. Fully grown and having been through plenty of adversity himself, Will now saw his mother more as she truly was: kind, loving, small, and perhaps more fragile than he had ever realized. />
  There was also strength there. Erisa hadn’t raised him on her own in the face of her parents’ opposition without being strong-willed. The contrast of strength and vulnerability brought a fresh ache to his heart. Eric had seemed impossibly healthy and as strong as any man could hope to be, yet he had died. In the chaotic world Will lived in, Erisa could die in an instant—like a candle flame in a strong wind.

  And she’s probably going to, if the goddamn cat is right, he thought dourly. He doesn’t think I have much of a chance.

  He still hadn’t told anyone about the Cath Bawlg’s warning. Keeping secrets from Selene and his mother wasn’t easy, but with so much going on it had been easier than usual. His grief over Eric’s death forestalled any deeper probing into his melancholy. Besides, the secret didn’t hurt anyone. They might as well have hope.

  There was a chance, after all.

  Which reminded him of another question. Rising to his feet, Will went outside to ask Arrogan a question. He activated the limnthal. “There’s two third-order wizards now.”

  “You already told me she survived,” said Arrogan petulantly.

  “She’s absorbing more turyn now. She can use magic.”

  For once, his grandfather didn’t bother with sarcasm. “Congratulations are in order then.”

  “There’s one last thing I need to do for her,” said Will.

  The old man already knew what he meant. “The limnthal. I recorded instructions and hid them away.”

  “Where?”

  “In my workshop.”

  Will frowned. “I’ve seen every inch of it. There’s no place you could have hidden it.”

  The ring snickered. “It’s in the ethereal plane, the northwest corner of the room. I dug a hole there—on the other side. You’ll find a lockbox, but don’t try to open it with the usual unlocking spell.”

  “Why not?”

  “It isn’t locked. The lock is a tricky illusion. If you try to use a spell to unlock it, the whole thing will blow up in your face. Just ignore the illusion and open it with your hands. There’s a book inside. Ignore that. The instructions for the limnthal are on a folded piece of parchment underneath the book.”

  “What’s in the book?”

  “Things better forgotten.” After a long pause, the ring continued, “I know you’re going to look anyway, sooner or later. Make it later. There’s nothing there that will help you. Wait a few years and then look. You’ll understand better then.”

  “Understand what?” asked Will in frustration.

  “That it’s easier to destroy than to preserve, and that both of those are far easier than creation. Some magic should never be used.”

  “Says the man who wiped out a generation of wizards.”

  “And yet I never touched those spells,” said Arrogan rebuking him. “Neither did my teacher.”

  “Aislinn.”

  “I don’t think she kept the memory of those magics. Even before what happened to her, she was too smart for that.”

  “Huh?”

  “The first spell in the book must be used to read the rest. At the end, a key has to be used, otherwise the first spell wipes the knowledge from your mind. As far as I know, none of the keepers have ever chosen to retain their memory of the contents. We just remember the decision.”

  “Who wrote the book?”

  Arrogan chuckled. “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t make any sense,” complained Will.

  “Just look at the notes on the limnthal that I left you. You can explore the book later when times aren’t so turbulent. The contents would take far too long for you to digest them in the limited time you have right now.”

  “Will?” Erisa’s voice came from the interior of the house.

  Will deactivated the limnthal. It was time to enjoy the honeyed oatcakes.

  Chapter 55

  Clegg said nothing, staring back at Will without any discernable expression. Not that Will considered himself a great authority on troll facial expressions. Trolls were utterly alien. They had only one gender and only one orifice, their mouths, which did double duty for both ingestion and excretion. Trolls were humanoid in that they had two arms, two legs, and a head, but the similarities didn’t extend much beyond that.

  There was a bit of variability in their size and appearance, mainly because their grey skin varied in its texture from almost smooth to rough and knobby like the bark on an oak tree. Not only did the texture vary from troll to troll, but it varied from place to place on the same troll. From what Will had learned, the pattern of rough and smooth patches was a large part of the way that trolls identified each other—that and smell.

  They stood nine feet tall on average, though some were closer to ten and others barely reached eight feet in height. Their frames varied from lanky to thick and heavy, but Arrogan had assured Will that even if they were human in size and proportion, their strength would be much greater. Given their large size, though, they were immensely strong. With long legs, they could easily outrun a human athlete and were probably faster than horses as well.

  Will had once been chased by them, and the only thing that had kept him from being caught was the fact that their mass made them less able to maneuver around trees and other obstacles. On an open field, he wouldn’t have had a chance. In virtually every way that mattered, trolls were physically superior to humans. Except for attractiveness, observed Will, though he supposed his opinion was subjective.

  Mentally, trolls were slow learners, but given that they were effectively immortal, they had plenty of time to make up the difference. The troll chieftain, Clegg, was apparently thousands of years old, and as far as Will could tell, the ancient troll was as smart as most humans. The only real advantage humanity or other races had over trolls was the fact that trolls couldn’t use magic.

  But that wasn’t much of an advantage in Muskeglun. The plane the trolls lived on had a very low ambient level of turyn, and according to what Arrogan had said, the trolls themselves didn’t possess an internal source the way humans did. Instead, their bodies generated turyn from the food they ate.

  “You can take Gan,” said Clegg finally, indicating the massive troll standing next to Lrmeg on Will’s left. “He yours anyway.”

  “Murra!” answered Gan enthusiastically, looking down at Will. “Gan veck Murra!”

  Gan was Will’s troll child, and the term ‘Murra’ was a new troll word that Clegg had coined. It meant mother, and it was the reason for Will’s unique title, ‘Grak-Murra’ or troll-mother. When Will had last seen the troll-let roughly a year ago, the creature had been roughly the size of a tree frog. Now Gan stood more than ten feet tall and bulked larger than most of the trolls currently gathered around them. Gan was also unique in that he wore a strangely misshapen leather hat of some sort. It had a floppy brim and had a strange point on top.

  “What did he say?” asked Will, directing his question to the chieftain.

  Clegg laughed. “He say, Gan eat mother, but what he means is love.”

  “Huh?” exclaimed Will.

  Arrogan spoke up to clarify matters. “He’s only a year old. Trolls take decades to learn to speak their own tongue and the words for eat, love, and fuck are very similar. Basically, they learn the word ‘eat’ first, and later the subtler meanings arise such that they understand and start using the other two.”

  “Oh.” Will turned back to Clegg. “I need more than just Gan. This is a war. I need many trolls.”

  Clegg stared back, unconcerned. “So?”

  “Without your help, the demons will probably destroy my world,” Will explained.

  Clegg moved his head in an odd, circular motion that Will had already learned was the troll equivalent of a shrug. “So? They not come here.”

  The troll chieftain was undoubtedly correct there. Muskeglun was uniquely unattractive to most other races. Not only were trolls completely useless to demonkind as sacrifices or as food, but their plane lacked ley lines. In fact, almost any invader wo
uld most likely find themselves as prey for the natives rather than the reverse.

  “What can I offer you in exchange for your help?” asked Will.

  “Last time wizard asked for help, my people were killed. None returned and some humans came here to hunt my people.” Clegg grinned. “They also not return home. Wise humans stop coming.”

  “That’s plain truth,” agreed Arrogan. “And you can’t guarantee any of the trolls you take with you will return either. Fighting an army of demons is guaranteed to be dangerous, and if you lose, none of them will make it back.”

  Will glared at the ring on his hand. “Whose side are you on?”

  “The side with less stupid,” said his grandfather. “So far, that seems to be the trolls. You should have talked to me before coming here. You don’t even have a way to get them to Myrsta.”

  “Tailtiu can help me—” began Will.

  Arrogan cut him off. “No, she can’t. The fae don’t allow trolls in their realm. She would have told you that if you’d asked. If you think trolls are bad in the human realm, imagine how bad they might be in Faerie. There’s so much turyn there they might start multiplying without even trying—and that’s without considering whether they could be transformed into fae themselves or not.”

  Well shit, thought Will. If the trolls exited through his home in Barrowden, they’d have to march all the way to Myrsta—a trip that would almost certainly take more than a week and could reasonably be expected to take two weeks or even longer. He wasn’t certain how fast trolls could march for extended periods.

  Clegg spoke up, breaking his train of thought. “Myrsta is not problem with wizard to help. Payment is the problem.”

  It only took Will a moment to figure out what the elder troll meant. He already knew there were other congruence points between Muskeglun and Hercynia, he just didn’t happen to know where any of the other were. Obviously, Clegg did, and one of them must be useful for getting to Darrow. But what can I offer them? Will was rich now, so one idea presented itself immediately. “I can give you as much wine or ale as you want.”