The Godlost Land

by Curtis, Greg

  Harl was reeling inside, barely able to comprehend what the man was saying. The shock of what he had just learned threatened to overwhelm him. For five long years he had lived with the knowledge that it was Artemis who had killed his loved ones. And though it wasn't easy he had found a way to deal with that. He had simply hated her.

  Now he'd been told it was the wizards. His own people! Learning that the betrayal had been made by those he had looked up to made the murders seem so much more terrible. And now that he had learned that the wizards hadn't just committed this disgusting betrayal of everything they were supposed to be, but that they had killed a hundred thousand people because they were bungling incompetents, made it worse. Finally a little of that exploded in him.

  “No you poxy fool!” He yelled it at the wizard, unable to contain himself. “It was always nine in ten. One in ten survived. Do you know nothing of demons? They always deal in absolute truth. And their truth is always a lie. Your masters just didn't read the agreement the way the demon wrote it.”

  It was so obvious to Harl. And because of that stupid little mistake an extra hundred thousand or so people had been killed. But he doubted that the twelve would have cared even if they had noticed the error. They wanted ultimate power, and it didn't matter to them whether that price was ten thousand lives or a hundred thousand. Geron certainly didn't care. His only concern was that they had been deceived. Not that so many had died.

  It was a while before Harl had calmed his anger and pain enough to return to the questioning. Quite a while, because the only desire in his heart was to run the man through with his blade. It was the right thing to do. But still there were things they needed to know.

  “There were other problems weren't there?” Why did he even ask Harl wondered? He knew there were more problems. These poxy idiots had struck a deal with a demon after all. There were always going to be problems. Still, he supposed he had to find out why the heavens weren't filled with more worthless gods.

  “Yes.” Geron was starting to mumble, not wanting to admit the truth. But he wasn't stupid enough to lie anymore.

  “And they were?”

  “The six great answers couldn't be used. The spells were written on an ancient tablet in a language so old that they couldn't read or translate it. They required knowledge that couldn't be obtained. And the words couldn't be spoken by mortals. There were a lot of problems.”

  All of which meant that their prisoner wouldn't be getting his immortality any time soon. That was going to be a problem for Geron if the bonds of truth tightened too much more. Or if Harl gave in to his desire and reached for his sword.

  “Of course there were. And let me guess. Each problem could be overcome – with another little deal?” It was the oldest story in the book when dealing with demons. They always wanted more. Just another little deal to get you what you dreamed of while they got theirs. It was their way.

  “Yes.” The word was barely a whisper coming out of the wizard's mouth. But everyone heard it clearly. “It's been frustrating. But we're so close.”

  “No!” Harl lost a little of his self control once again and yelled at the prisoner. He only just managed to resist the impulse to reach for his blade. By all the gods he wanted to behead him there and then! But he settled instead for shouting at him. “It hasn't been “frustrating!” It's been murder. Mass slaughter. Five years and five kingdoms of brutal, senseless killing. It wouldn't have been justified even if the Circle had got what it expected. But of course it was all for nothing! And it always would be for nothing. You are not close and you never will be!”

  “You made a deal with a demon! You couldn't actually expect him to honour it? You couldn't really be that stupid?”

  Geron didn't answer him but then Harl hadn't expected him to. He couldn't. He hadn't made the deal. Geron might have the arrogance of a master wizard but he had still only been an apprentice at the time. He was still an apprentice. He only knew what he knew through his own master. And Tyriole probably didn't tell him everything anyway. The odds were that he didn't know that much more.

  Harl took a few deep breaths to calm himself. To try and find some control. To stop his heart from beating so hard that it ripped itself right out of his chest. And to keep himself from reaching for his sword. But it wasn't right that he had to. The wizard needed to die. But in time he remembered anew that he couldn't kill him. In time he started thinking again.

  “How many? How many wizards are with the twelve?”

  “I don't know.” And Geron actually managed to shrug in his restraints. “Hundreds? Thousands? Most of them I think.”

  The casual way he said it sent a shiver down Harl's spine. Most of them? That couldn't be! Especially when most of his friends had been wizards. And even if so many had lost all their common sense they couldn't also have lost every trace of their decency. Not his friends?

  That though was a darker question that he needed answered, and unfortunately he doubted that Geron could. Still, he had to ask. At least about those he knew.

  “Which of my friends are with you? Master Gallowgood the Patient? Ardus of Elm Valley?”

  Harl carried on naming names for a while after that, but heard nothing back from Geron. He didn't know. But then how would he? For the most part they were all like Harl; young wizards, beneath Geron's notice. Geron's ignorance meant nothing.

  But if Master Gallowgood had been involved – surely Geron would have known? Harl kept having to tell himself that. Master Gallowgood might not have been a Circle wizard, but he was well respected – or he had been. And Harl wanted desperately to believe that the reason Geron didn't name him was that he wasn't among their number. That he was dead. And what a terrible wish that was! That someone you had known all your life should be dead because it was better than the alternative. But Geron didn't know. Harl would just have to live in ignorance. It was a nightmare.

  The real question was what to do with Geron. Personally Harl wanted to kill him. But that would not be well received by his two other house guests. And in any case Geron hadn't signed the deal. He probably hadn't been involved in the slaughter though he had obviously known about the deal. He had done nothing to stop it, no doubt dreaming of one day learning the answers to the six great mysteries. He might even have helped in his own small way. But he hadn't actually done it. Even though he might be the worst form of pig dung, Hark knew that Geron's fate should rest in the hands of the justices.

  But that didn't mean the wizard had to remain in his home. Even this humble cottage. He didn't want him in his home. And with that his decision was made.

  “Tree Mother, friend, has he drunk enough of the tea for the night?” They nodded.

  “Then please bring him and follow me. This creature shall not despoil my home such as it is, for one moment longer.” And with that Harl walked out of the door and marched out into the night. But only as far as the smithy where the horses were already sheltering. It was warmer there and would remain so till the morning. And it had a roof to keep the rain off.

  When he reached it Harl undid the pulley rope that raised and lowered the smelter pot, and lowered it so that the pot could reach the ground. It was empty which made it quite light and easy to handle. When he was smelting ore however it could hold up to three hundred weight which was why he had a rope and an eight string pulley system to use it.

  Geron screamed when he saw the rope, as he surely guessed the rage that was in Harl's heart. And Harl truly did want to hang him. But he wasn't going to. Not there, not then. Not like that. The others had brought the prisoner to him for safe keeping for the night, and he would not betray their confidence. Not just for anger. There was little he had left, but he still had that much left of his sense of right and wrong.

  “We are not hanging this wizard. He has more questions to answer.”

  Nyma seemed quite certain on that point, though he noticed she had brought Geron out with her, and he had to assume that there was also some desire within her to see his end.


  “Hanging yes. By the neck no. He will be warm and dry for the night and alive in the morning – if he keeps his mouth shut. But he will not be in my house.” And to prove his words he started tying the ropes around Geron that he needed to. One around his chest under his armpits. One around his waist. And the last around his ankles. All the while Geron yelled obscenities at him, or tried to. But every so often he said something foolish – a threat that he knew he couldn't back up – and the coat tightened again. It seemed to stop the yelling each time.

  Then Harl ran a rope through all three loops and tied them together. After that it was just a matter of connecting him up to the smelter rope and hoisting him up and then swinging him over the pit. Soon he was hanging there, six feet above the pit, terrified and swearing at him, but helpless. Which was all Harl could hope for.

  “Now Geron these ropes are good but not perfect. I would be careful not to struggle too much, just in case. Because if you do fall you'll burn to death. And I'd be careful about the swearing too. Promising things you know you can't do is a type of lie after all. Too many mistakes and you know what the bonds of truth will do to you. Do you understand? Just nod.”

  The wizard nodded carefully. And that was probably all he should do. He was already in pain from the tightness of the coat.

  “Where's your coal?” The satyr asked him the question unexpectedly and it took Harl a moment to understand. But then he did and it almost brought a smile to his face. He was grateful for that. For anything that could take his thoughts from the dark places they had been travelling.

  “Arcane smith. I don't burn coal. I produce fire from rocks.” Harl gestured to the pit. Though he had let the fire cool for the night the white round river rocks that filled his pit were almost glowing. They could feel the heat being given off from them. But then arcane smiths had always been few in number and many knew little of them.

  “Come.” He turned to the others. “I'll put the kettle on and we can have a late supper. Maybe drink some tea. Not your root and vine tea though. And you can watch Geron through the window from the warmth.”

  “But first thing in the morning I want him gone!”

  That wasn't actually true. He wanted him dead and long before the sun rose. He probably wasn't alone in that. But he would settle for him being gone.

  The others said nothing as they followed him back inside. There probably wasn't that much they could say. But they weren't happy he guessed. They were guests and he had if not broken his duty of hospitality to them then at least strained it mightily. The ones he felt sorry for though were the horses who had to put up with Geron for the night. They were the ones who really had the right to complain.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nyma arrived in the Glass River Valley with her prisoner in tow two days later. And she was glad for that as it meant that this one was at an end and she could hand over Geron. He had been quiet for the entire two days – to make sure of it they hadn't released him from the coat even though Harl had told them the words – but still she didn't want to be anywhere near him. Just riding near him made her feel unclean. Now it was somebody else's turn to feel the need to bathe.

  How could he have done what he had done? How could someone so easily feed his own people to the demons? And not even with the excuse of the heat of battle or while enraged. It had been done in cold blood. That went beyond simple heartlessness. And to her at least, it was incomprehensible. But his complete lack of understanding almost made it worse. Clearly Geron felt pain – well, physical pain at least. And he knew fear. He was afraid of what awaited him. But somehow he was incapable of understanding that other people felt those same things too. He was completely unable to see beyond his own base desires.

  In fact the only emotion he seemed to know for others was anger. Hatred really. Hatred for them, his warders of course, and though he said very little he had spent his days in the saddle glaring at them. If he had the power he would have killed them both in a heartbeat. But if he hated anyone more than them it was the arcane smith. He'd learned to hold his tongue, but every time they mentioned Harl's name, even in passing, the look of rage that came over him made him seem almost inhuman.

  Maybe he wasn't? Human that was. She'd been wondering about that as they rode. He might look like one on the outside, but the way he acted, the things he'd said – they were almost pure demon. She was glad he'd been silenced by the coat. The bonds of truth as Harl had called it.

  And then there was Harl. Though she had called him a wizard he had denied it and called himself an arcane smith instead. She wasn't sure why, but she knew that it mattered to him. It was almost a point of pride with him. But wizard or not, she was beginning to realise he was a useful man to have around. He was a man with skills that they could use.

  But he was also a man with secrets. Not to mention anger. He had refused to admit that he had sent the soldier to free her sister – she wasn't sure why. But she knew he had been lying. It wasn't just simple logic that told her that, it was the deception in his words. He might try to lie, but he simply wasn't very good at it.

  In one thing though he had been completely honest. He hated Geron. He hadn't known about the betrayal, but now that he did he truly hated the wizards who had betrayed the five kingdoms. And he wanted them all dead.

  When he had interrogated the wizard, when he had heard about the Circle and their betrayal, the knowledge had nearly undone him. She had seen the shock and pain in his face. The horror had come close to laying him low. Nyma had felt for him. And for a while she had wondered how he had contained it all. So much pain and rage. She guessed he had wondered the same. She had seen his eyes dart toward the old sword leaning against the wall beside him several times, and understood the murderous thoughts running through his mind. In the end he had controlled his anger and stayed his hand, but she thought it had been a close thing.

  The darkness in his heart was like a demon and no matter how he tried to control it, like all demons it would be heard.

  It was grief of course that moved through him. Grief and pain. The same as it was with so many others. The people of the five kingdoms had lost so much. Loved ones, friends and family, sometimes spouses and even children. They had lost their homes and their futures. For many it seemed they had lost their entire world. They had the right to feel aggrieved. To know rage. But in a wizard such emotions could become very dangerous things. Harl was a man who needed to be watched.

  But he was also a man who could become a valuable ally. Anyone who could make such clever and useful devices as the coat Geron was still wearing could prove an asset. And who knew what else he could make? She would have to speak with her sister about him. And with Theris.

  But at least she would be rid of their prisoner soon. And judging from the size of it, it looked like the fortress would have plenty of rooms for him to be kept in. Dungeon rooms. Hopefully it had a gallows as well. Her sister might have a few qualms about executions – she tried to hide it but Nyma had seen it in her face – but Nyma didn't. Not for Geron. Having ridden with him for two days it was clear that he was someone the world would be better off without. The Mother would call him a disease of life. She suspected Hera – the humans' understanding of her – would say the same thing. Hopefully the fort would have the cure within.

  It was the first time she'd been to Glass River Valley and seeing the fortress in front of them she had to admit it was impressive. In fact she decided as they trotted out from the trees into the valley and saw it standing there in the middle of the valley, it was almost a castle in its own right, but built low to the ground. The fort was barely two stories tall and completely surrounded by a fifteen foot tall stone wall. But what it lacked in height it more than made up for in width and depth. The massive dark stone wall was crenelated and here and there she could see figures standing beside those gaps in the wall, watching them. Bows at the ready.

  The ancient stone fortress had clearly seen better days though. Maybe better centuries. Many parts of the walls w
ere crumbling. In some places they were just piles of rubble. Still, it looked big and sturdy as it stood on top of the fields of long grass, just as a fortress was supposed to be. And she guessed that those broken walls were being rebuilt by the people working among the rubble. Sooner or later it would be completely solid. It would also be fully manned.

  Theris had come to the fort a little over a week before with only seven others. But looking toward the fortress she could see at least a dozen soldiers in the grounds surrounding the fortress and on the ramparts. And from the sounds of metal clanging on metal she guessed more were inside drilling in weapons. Theris was a trainer before anything else.

  “Come on!” Verrin urged her on as he pressed his heels into his horse's side and galloped for the fort as quickly as he could. She understood why. He was half satyr and one of the most tolerant and relaxed men she had ever known, but even he wanted their mission to end. He could stand no more of Geron than her. His horns were surely glowing with dislike for the wizard as the bards claimed they did. The sooner they could dump him in his cell and slam the door shut, the happier he would be. The happier everyone would be, except for their prisoner of course. Geron said nothing, but then the pain of the coat had taught him that silence was a wonderful thing. Sometimes he moaned a bit though.