The Godlost Land

by Curtis, Greg

  Nyma gave chase and soon the three of them were at the gate to the fortress. And it was there that they met their first surprise. Two men with swords stood firm in front of the rusty iron gates and challenged them. That had never happened before anywhere. However, they were allowed through the gates the moment Verrin identified them to the soldiers.

  After that they rode into the courtyard and Nyma rapidly revised her impression of the fortress upwards. It was even more intimidating than she'd thought. The walls had elaborate ramparts behind them as she'd guessed. But there were also murder holes in them. To add to its defences there were towers being slowly rebuilt out of the dark grey stone behind them. Also behind the ramparts were solid stone platforms which she guessed were for sitting war machines on. As for the fort itself, it had slitted windows as well as more crenelations on the roof and iron grates for doors. Anyone who made it through the walls would find themselves in an exposed courtyard with no shelter and with arrows being rained down on them from all sides.

  But most impressive to her were the training facilities. A dozen archers were practising with both long and short bows on the archery range while a trainer guided them. Another two dozen recruits were smashing away at straw and wood targets with axes and swords and anything else they could lay their hands on. And ten more at least were undertaking drills. How could they have so many recruits already she wondered? And how many recruits could they handle at once when the fort was fully restored?

  Someone had set up a grindstone and was busy sharpening weapons off to one side of the archery range. On the other side and butted up against the wall and beneath the ramparts were the stables where some forty horses were being tended to. And there was room for another forty horses at least beside them. There was even a blacksmith shoeing some of them. Then there were the wagons, three of them which soldiers were busy unloading as they brought provisions into the main building.

  This was a big fortress. Which made it all the harder to understand why it had been abandoned. She understood that it had had something to do with not being anywhere near the major towns in the kingdom. And also that politics had played a part as the fortress had fallen out of favour with one long dead king or another – maybe the first Julius. But still – to just abandon a fortress like this seemed crazy.

  Nyma turned to look for the commander. She quickly spotted him standing to one side of the recruits, watching them as they trained and occasionally shouting instructions at them. Seeing him she and Verrin made there way over to the commander, trying not to appear as if they were in an unseemly rush, but desperately wanting to hand him their prisoner and finally be rid of Geron.

  “Commander Theris.” Nyma greeted him formally.

  “Nyma.” He greeted her less formally she noticed – but then she had no rank or title save that of custodian and humans generally didn't recognise the ways of her people. If they wanted to be respectful they called them Tree Mothers and Fathers. Clearly Theris didn't want that. The lack of formality didn't bother her so much as the tone in his voice though – suspicion. It wasn't strong and he controlled it, but she knew it was there. Just as she knew it was in the voices and hearts of many others. She was three quarters dryad though to look at she seemed to be of pure blood, and her people were not well regarded in the Rainbow Mountains. The first time she had met Harl he had been ready to draw his sword on her.

  “The High Priestess sends you a prisoner to interrogate from the liberation of Cedar Lake. A wizard who wore the robes of a false priest. Geron, once of Lion's Crest. He has been bound with root and vine.” She could have referred to Erislee as her sister to perhaps grant herself a little more respect, but there seemed little point. She would be accepted or not as she was. Besides, he knew who she was.

  “Cedar Lake has been freed already?” The commander seemed surprised. “Truly the High Priestess is on fire. Were there many lost?”

  “A few.” Verrin took over the conversation unexpectedly. “Five were killed, another dozen injured, but the High Priestess now marches with over a hundred soldiers and the griffins have grown in number as well.”

  But it hadn't been as easy a victory as she would have wanted. The enemy had been prepared for them. They'd had scouts out searching. They'd set up some basic fortifications. And if it hadn't been for the unicorns and the griffins, the battle would have been far more even. As the commander himself had told them, things were only going to get tougher.

  “I will send out our first detachment to her within the next few days. Only a score of men but they have some basic armour and have been trained.”

  The commander walked over to the prisoner to study him, looking she suspected for any sign of his magic breaking loose. But there was none and there would be none. They had been careful to make him drink the tea at every stop, far more often than they needed to. But then the commander's attention turned to the coat he was wearing, and how tightly it fit him. So tightly in fact that he could not bend at all. That his arms were stuck rigidly to his sides, and even breathing was becoming a problem for him.

  “Why is he dressed so? He looks like a sausage about to burst.”

  Geron didn't respond Nyma noticed. Not even to threaten someone. He hadn't said much for a long time, and when he did he was very careful to think about his words first. But he did manage to glare angrily at the commander.

  “The wizard who fashioned it called it the bonds of truth. It tightens whenever he lies. And it keeps him very quiet.” Geron turned his attention back to them and gave them a venomous look. But he had learned to say nothing if he didn't have to.

  “The robes of the inquisitor!” Theris' eyes widened slightly. “I have not heard of one of those being seen in five long years. And you say it was fashioned rather than taken from a dungeon somewhere?”

  Nyma and Verrin nodded.

  “Then your wizard is a capable enchanter and smith. We could use his skills.”

  They could. But they would need the combined luck of Tyche the Blind Mistress of Fortune and the persuasive gifts of Plutus the Trader to get him to help them Nyma thought. The arcane smith was bitter and distrustful to an extent she had seldom seen before. He was also extremely angry. In fact when Geron had confessed, for a while she thought she'd seen the wrath of Lyssa moving in him. And he showed absolutely no desire to help anyone but himself. She suspected he had good reason for being the way he was – as sadly did many. But Theris was right. They could use his skills.

  For the moment though there were more important things to worry about than one annoying smith. There was what they had already learned from Geron.

  As a pair of soldiers came to lift Geron off his horse – bound as he was he couldn't dismount without falling to the ground – they began to tell the commander what they had been told by their prisoner.

  They were still telling him as they entered the building and took the stairs down to the dungeon. The place that she hoped would be Geron's last home. Before he swung from the end of a rope.

  Once they reached Geron's cell Nyma knew a moment of pure pleasure. It was cold and dark, just as it should be for someone like him. It had little in the way of comforts, just a pile of straw in a corner for a bed. Best of all it had a heavy iron door that he would not be able to break through. Not without his magic. It was the perfect place for the traitorous wizard. And it was the home he deserved.

  “In you go wizard!” She gave him a little push to get him moving and was a little disappointed when he didn't fall over. “It's better than you deserve, but at least it'll only be until they've finished the gallows!”

  And if the look of terror on his face when she said it wasn't enough to please her, the sound of the heavy door slamming shut with a final thunk was. At least something good had come of the day. For a while as they'd ridden with Geron, she'd thought the day couldn't actually get any worse.

  “Now you two –.” Theris suddenly addressed them as if they were soldiers under his command. “I want you to tell me everything this w
izard has said. And everything the inquisitors will need to ask him about.”

  Inquisitors! Nyma suddenly realised that she liked that word. In fact she decided as she followed the commander out of the dungeon, she liked it a lot.

  At last things were becoming brighter.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was nearly a month before Harl had his next visitor, and when she showed up at first he didn't realise she was one. But then Harl was in the town selling his furs and buying his provisions, when he noticed the part dryad woman. She didn't seem all that important until she started turning up wherever he was at the same time as him.

  He didn't recognise her. That wasn't unusual. There were a lot of people in town these days. A lot of new faces. Even a number like her with mixed blood. They'd come out of hiding and started walking among the rest of the townsfolk ever since it had been freed of the temple. So he didn't think much about the woman – until he suddenly realised that wherever he went she seemed to appear soon after. She followed him into and out of stores, around the streets and then spoke to the people he'd just spoken to. She was even nearby when he sat down for a rest.

  It seemed she was following him.

  Harl cursed a little under his breath when he realised that. He had just been starting to feel good about life again. He'd finally started letting a little light creep into his dark world. Even a touch of hope. Whitebrook was happy. Not quite as happy as the last time he had visited. There were less drunks lying in the street, and the ones in the alehouse weren't singing any more. But still people were smiling, children were running around, and things seemed busier than they had been in a long while. Life might not be perfect but still there was a feeling of hope in the air. People sensed the chance of a future. And unexpectedly he sensed it too. He wouldn't put his faith in it, but he still had a little hope.

  The outcasts were in town too. Those like him who had run and hid all these years could once again be seen and it was good to see them out in the open again. Good to be identified as one of them. He had been sickened by having spent years in worn out leathers pretending to be a simple trapper, and having had to bend his knee every so often to the temple. So to be able to walk the streets in his armour with his great sword at his hip, was a source of pride for him. Even if he'd worn his old travelling cloak over the top of it just in case.

  It was clearly the same for the other outcasts as well, and they walked a little prouder, a little taller as they carried their weapons openly. Some he understood had joined the High Priestess in her battle, and he had no doubt that they would make powerful allies. You couldn't spend all those years running and hiding and fighting without learning a thing or two about how to kill a beast. But the thing that impressed him most about the outcasts was their number. Even while he was there he saw at least a score of them wandering the streets. That was more than he'd ever encountered as he'd wandered the wilds in the past five years. Obviously more had survived than he'd guessed. It was a reason to celebrate.

  The strangest thing he noticed though as he'd wandered about on his business was that there were priests in town. Not the priests of the false temple as everyone said they had been. Other priests. He'd spotted one in the robes of Helios further down the street – the bright yellow colour of the sun god's priest was hard to miss. And one of Dike Astraea's priestesses had been working on her shrine when he'd walked into town. Priests were walking about the town in their formal robes. That was a sight he hadn't seen in a long time and it made him feel good.

  He'd even heard it said in the shop that as well as some of the old shrines being visited by their respective priests and restored to their former glory, the priests were also talking about holding services. They were looking to bring the faithful back. That was an amazing thing, and he was even thinking that if and when Hera's shrine was repaired he should make an offering. Perhaps even attend a service if there was one. He wasn't really a follower of any of the gods, but his family had been followers of Hera, and it would feel right to honour her with a tribute in their names.

  Maybe in time they would even welcome the return of some of the feast days. Celebrations in the name of each of the deities. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a day. A long time since anyone had. Hera's day wasn't so spectacular; all it involved was just giving gifts to honour parents and grandparents, and of course large meals. But Dionysus' day was wondrous. The wine would flow as would the song, and the women would be welcoming. Harl was definitely looking forward to the return of that feast day.

  So maybe some of the people's happiness had rubbed off on him? Some of that hope. Enough that even after the shock of learning the truth of who had destroyed his world he had actually started thinking there might be a future. So much so that he had even started working on his home. Not just covering over the worst of the holes, but patching some of the broken wooden slates on the walls. Replacing some more of the thatch on the roof. He had even sanded down the door so that it didn't stick any more. All the little jobs he had never done before because he had always imagined that he would be moving on in time. Now though, he was starting to hope that he wouldn't have to leave again.

  But spotting his tail he wondered if he had to reconsider.

  The war of the temples was progressing well according to the bards who had started travelling once more. Once the false temples had been destroyed and the nearby towns were being freed the bards had picked up their lutes and lyres and taken up their old trade once more. They had tales and songs of great battles to bring to the town in exchange for a few coins. Tales of massive armies and hordes of griffins. Of false priests being torn apart and temples burning. Only this morning he'd heard of more towns liberated and a city soon to be under siege. It was the city of Midland Heights that they were talking about, the only true city in the kingdom. And it sat at the heart of the Rainbow Mountains. It was the seat of the kingdom's power and the home of its king. That was until King Julius the Third had been killed along with his entire family. Gutted by a fury so they said.

  Harl had also heard that recruiters were in town, looking for men to join the burgeoning army that was being raised to tear down the false priests in the city. And that tariffs were being called for by the leaders of the new army. Grain mainly to feed the soldiers, plus some other supplies and whatever weapons and armour could be scrounged up.

  But people were happy to pay. A few were even joining. In fact it was said that they were coming from every town in the Rainbow Mountains as it was freed and that the High Priestess' army was growing to enormous size. It would have to if they were to conquer Midland Heights. But still it was a worthy goal to aim for. If Midland Heights was returned to the people then one of the five kingdoms would fall with it, and the Rainbow Mountains would be free.

  Maybe he should join? Maybe. It was a thought that had been with Harl for a while. He truly wanted to. And it wasn't just to satisfy his desire to kill those who had murdered his family. It was because he knew that if the realm was free than he was safe. Safer than he had been in a long time. But against that there was the fact that it would be a tough battle. Midland Heights was a big city and it had massive fortifications. Many would die trying to take it. And he was a swordsman not a soldier. An outcast. He could fight and fight well, but he knew nothing of fighting as part of an army. Nothing of strategy and tactics. And in the end what could one extra blade really do?

  Reluctantly he turned to look back at the woman following him and waved her over to where he sat on the wooden pew. It was one the innkeeper Vittus had placed outside of his inn for guests. Hardly anyone ever used it, but then hardly anyone had stayed at the hotel for the past five years. Not since the attack. But the innkeeper had started repairing the leaking weather boards in the front of the building, and done some work in the front garden as well as he prepared for guests. Certainly the place looked a little less run down than before. No doubt Vittus was hoping for more custom in the future. Perhaps he had reason. There seemed to be more people
in town these days.

  He wasn't alone of course. All around the town people were doing similar things. Making repairs that should have been done years before. Tending to gardens. Staining timbers and washing walls. Not only did it show that they had hope for the future, it suggested to him that they were still revelling in their new found freedom.

  But Harl couldn't be as sanguine as the others. Not when he knew the truth about how this nightmare had begun. The shame of knowing that it had been his own people – wizards – who had caused this was a constant weight on him. It was a betrayal of everything he had ever believed in. But at least he could try to take a little cheer from the people as they celebrated their new found freedom.

  The woman came over, giving him his first chance to actually study her. Judging by her hair which looked like a tangle of twigs and leaves he guessed her to be about a quarter dryad. But there was little else of the dryads he could see in her. Even her skin was free from the markings.