by Curtis, Greg
Dina said nothing after that for a long while, thinking perhaps about what she'd said instead. Or maybe she was just trying to come to terms with the impossible. But when she did speak again it was to say something that was also on Erislee's mind.
“We need to see the boy. If he is now crafting the weapons of the gods we need to see him urgently.”
Somehow Erislee wasn't thinking that Dina was suggesting it so that they could thank the warrior wizard for his work. Perhaps there was a reason for her concern. But for her there wasn't. In the end the arcane smith had done the bidding of the Huntress. She only wanted to understand how that had come about. How one so lost could serve. And to thank him.
Chapter Thirty Two
Three dead! Three of his Circle dead! It was unthinkable. It was impossible. It couldn't be!
But as he lay there on the floor of his library, bleeding from the nose and the ears, his head trying to rip itself apart from the inside, Terellion knew it was true. It had happened.
And there had been no warning. Nothing. His bond with the three dead wizards was as tight as that he had with any of the others of the Circle. Very tight. He concentrated most of his efforts on keeping them under his control, because he knew that they would be the key to his ascension. So he would have known if they'd been in fear or even in combat. But they hadn't been. They had been at peace. Resting. Waiting for the attack to begin. And all three of them had heard his instructions on the matter. He had been very clear. They would not enter the city until the rebels were dead. All of them. They knew he would not allow them to risk their lives. They knew why. And though he hadn't been watching them closely he knew they had been obeying him. Right up until one by one they had suddenly felt that crushing pain in their chests and died.
“Sir!”
The attendants were all over him, trying to mop up the blood that was pouring out of his head. Trying to comfort him. And all he could think was that he hated them for it. The annoying women just wouldn't leave him alone.
“Go away!” Terellion yelled at them with all the strength he had. The agony in his head was just too terrible for him to deal with their annoyance just then. He needed to be alone. “Go jump!”
He needed them gone. He needed to pull his thoughts together. He needed a little peace. And a few moments later he heard the screams from somewhere outside as they hit the stone of the courtyard. They'd jumped off the balcony!
Stupid damned women! He cursed them for being so dumb. Why had they done that? But it didn't matter. Some might live. Most probably wouldn't. But it wasn't important. The only thing that mattered to him right then was that he be alone with his pain. Alone with his rage and fear as he tried to work out who had done this to him and how.
It had to be the accursed High Priestess though how he didn't know. She and her army had been trapped in the city they had already broken. Outnumbered massively, they had been waiting to die. But when Tyriole, Immelda and Harriss had been commanding the massive army that had been massing in front of her, waiting to destroy the entire rebellion, she was the enemy they faced. So who else could have killed them?
So had she somehow managed an assassination of her own? Three assassinations in truth? From a league and a half away and with a battlefield filled with chimera between them? Or had the three Circle wizards given the order to attack and then somehow lost the battle despite having overwhelming numbers? Without him permitting them to attack, or even being aware of it? That didn't make sense. Especially not when he had been in their thoughts and knew they hadn't even been thinking of an attack. They had simply been relaxing, waiting for him to give the order. Not one of them had been in a hurry. Not one of them had had a single thought other than those he told them to think. They hadn't in many years.
Either way he knew as he lay there with his head trying to rip itself apart it didn't matter. The three of them were dead. He had felt their passing. He could still feel the crushing pain as something had ripped their chests apart. And the binding had suffered yet more damage. Terrible damage. It would survive, though for the longest time as he'd lain there he had thought otherwise. But he knew it couldn't survive many more deaths. Certainly nothing like this. Not three at once.
To add to his woes he guessed the army had gone too. Fifty thousand chimera! It was the largest single army he had ever had ever raised. Now there was no one left to give the order to attack. They would just sit there, waiting. Slowly starving to death. And they would actually starve. He had sent hundreds of extra thralls with the army to control them. And every one of those thralls had been instructed by him to do nothing without his express command through the wizards. Instructed in the way only he could command.
It had been necessary. The one thing he could not have afforded was for his army to attack in groups. For each unit to attack as it arrived. Because then the High Priestess and her pox ridden soldiers might have won. Protected by the city walls, out numbering his individual detachments, they would have destroyed them easily. In order to be certain of victory he'd had to have all his soldiers and beasts attack at once. He'd had to simply overwhelm their defences and then crush those in the city.
He also didn't know how many soldiers she had. Ten thousand? Twenty?
Now though she would undoubtedly gain more soldiers. When word of her victory spread they would flock to her banner.
Xin was going to be angry. The army were more than just an army to him. They were his feeders. Whoever or whatever they killed, a part of their life flowed through them all the way back to the gate in Lion's Crest and then through to the demon king in Tartarus. Now he had fifty thousand less chimera to feed him. He would be very angry. Hopefully he would also be hurting as greatly as Terellion was. Hopefully he would be angry as well. Angry with the rebels that was. Not with him he hoped though Terellion was sure that the demon king would save some special anger just for him. He also doubted that Xin would give him any more chimera.
At the start Xin had been very generous with the chimera. They had poured out of the gate night and day, quickly overrunning the city and in time the Kingdom of the Lion. But as time had gone on the rate at which new chimera had emerged from the gate had slowed. It was almost as though he'd had a massive army of them just waiting for Terellion, but once that had been used up, it had been harder for the demon king to provide more. And maybe that had been exactly what had happened. Though of course it led to an obvious question. How could Xin have known he would be wanting his army in the first place? He had to raise them after all – didn't he? It wasn't as if he could just hire them. Or were they simply his normal standing army? Did demons normally have armies to protect themselves?
“Sir! Sir!”
Suddenly more people were bothering him, soldiers who'd apparently come when they'd seen the others fall to their deaths and then found him. But Terellion was in no mood to suffer their attentions any more than he had been that of the others.
“Go away! Jump!”
They did as he commanded and a short while later he heard the sounds of metal smashing down on stone – and more screaming. He paid it no mind save to know a little satisfaction that at least something was happening as he'd ordered.
But what of White Tail? The thought suddenly occurred to him. He'd sent the annoying faun out with a contingent of harpies to back up the other three wizards. He was the last one they'd been waiting for before the attack would begin. He couldn't have been far away. Perhaps only a few more days travel.
White Tail could save the day! Terellion suddenly understood that. Another Circle wizard arriving could give the order to attack. And then the pestilent High Priestess and her rebellion could finally end. And those soldiers could then go on to return the Rainbow Mountains to him.
But he could also be killed. He had to remember that three of their number had been slaughtered while they were protected by the most powerful army in the five kingdoms. Killed without warning. And if White Tail died would the binding still hold? Or would it collapse and wi
th it kill him? Lying there Terellion feared it would collapse. It had to be very close even now. In fact he feared it might still collapse anyway. It felt quite unstable to him.
He couldn't risk White Tail dying. Not now. Not until the binding had recovered. If it did recover. And maybe not even then. If that meant that fifty thousand chimera had to starve to death and the High Priestess enjoyed an immense victory that was simply the price that had to be paid. Terellion could not let his own life be placed in jeopardy.
Besides, White Tail had other duties to attend to.
He had given the faun orders to hunt down the wild man who had killed Alenda once Midland Heights was retaken and the High Priestess dead. No matter what else happened Terellion was determined that that savage warrior should die. The vicious brute had tried to kill him after all, and that could not be tolerated.
But then a new thought occurred to Terellion. Where was the faun now? Was he in immediate danger? Could he have been taken and was now about to die? Could Terellion be about to lose yet another Circle wizard? Four in one day? It was unthinkable! But he had to think it.
“White Tail!”
Terellion called to the faun but heard nothing back. But that could mean anything. The faun was a problem to control. Not in the way Maynard had been. The faun didn't resist his control. Like the others he didn't even know he was controlled. But still he had the same gift that Terellion did and it granted him a little natural resistance. Not enough. Despite the faun's view that he was the most powerful of the wizards of the mind around, he was in fact nowhere near strong enough to stand against him. But still, sometimes it made it difficult to control him.
Most likely he knew – or he hoped – that the reason he couldn't get an answer from White Tail was that the faun was unconscious. Terellion himself would have been unconscious had not his attendants rushed to him and woken him up. Either way the faun wasn't dead. He would know if he was. And he had more important things to worry about.
“Bring me my war masters!”
Terellion yelled his order out as loudly as he could, expecting to hear the sounds of running feet hitting the marble. But there was no sound. No one came running. And as he lay there and slowly tried to roll on to his hands and knees before he stood up, he wondered why. Where were they? Had they run away? And where were his attendants? He called to them, expecting them to rush to his side and help him up. But they didn't come either.
What was this? Treachery?
Eventually though when he managed to crawl to his knees and look around he realised the truth. He was alone. There was no one in the chamber. The soldiers and the attendants had all gone. Clearly they had run away. And that made him angry. That they should desert him in his time of need! The miserable worms! He had always known they were worthless. Everyone was. They weren't like him! That was why he had to control them. Otherwise they would do whatever they wanted. But then, even as he was thinking about how to punish them for their betrayal he suddenly remembered what he'd commanded them to do.
In time he made it to his feet and staggered over to the balcony and looked down to see his attendants and soldiers lying there maybe forty feet below him. Some were moving. A little. Most though were lying still as blood pooled around their bodies. And all around them others were tending to them, trying to work out what had happened. Some of them were staring up at the balcony and at him, their faces filled with simple minded confusion. Others were calling for healers or loading bodies on to stretchers. Probably it was a good thing he thought, that they were doing their duty. But the one thing that wasn't happening he noticed was any sign of them rushing to serve him. And that was their true duty. They should have known it.
Terellion yelled down at them, ordering them to tend to him, annoyed that he should have to. Annoyed also that there were no pretty women among them. Who was going to decorate his walls and tend to his needs now? He swore at the gods for their petty vindictiveness. It seemed that on top of all his other problems he now had to recruit another entire personal staff.
Why was Tyche cursing him with such misfortune? But he knew the answer. It was because she too was a woman! A worthless, petty woman!
Chapter Thirty Three
“Wake up!”
Some one was yelling at him, half waking Harl from his pleasant dream. But Harl didn't want that and he tried to ignore whoever was bothering him, The bed was after all, very comfortable.
“I said wake up boy!”
This time the words were accompanied by the feel of something prodding his shoulder. Hard enough that it hurt. But still, he wanted to continue sleeping despite the pain. He needed to sleep. So instead of opening his eyes he rolled over on to his side and tried to pretend it wasn't happening.
“He's stark naked and sleeping in his pit!”
Another voice joined the first, and she was even louder for some reason. “I mean he's actually sleeping in his pit! And he's on fire! He's on fire and fast asleep!”
“I know.” The first voice, the one who'd prodded him, answered her. “His old master used to do the same. He said it was the most comfortable sleep he ever got. And that it was warm. Master Gallowgood always said that his old bones needed to be kept warm.”
“Now get up boy!”
She prodded him again, this time in the back and harder again. And just in case he didn't get the message she smacked him hard around the arm with whatever she'd been prodding him with. It was then that Harl's eyes reluctantly opened. Clearly he wasn't going to be allowed to continue sleeping.
“What?” He was awake, sort of, but he really didn't want to be. He just wanted these people to go away. But when she poked him again he guessed that wasn't going to happen.
“I said get up boy! Shake your lazy bones out of there.” And when he was too slow to respond she poked him some more. It was getting quite annoying. And what was this whole “boy” thing anyway? He was over thirty, now. Hardly a boy any more.
Reluctantly but knowing that he had no choice Harl rolled over to the edge of the pit and then with a little effort made to get to his feet. Unfortunately his feet hadn't yet woken up and so instead of standing he ended up falling to the ground and bruising his knees. But he got up quickly enough after that and he even felt awake. The shock of the cold ground on his flesh was bracing!
“Mistress Windstrider, High Priestess.” Harl recognised them quickly enough, and then remembered the rest, including the fact that they shouldn't be here. They should be in Midland Heights, in the middle of a war. “The battle?”
“Won, thanks to you,” Dina told him. “And three more of my peers are gone. But we have questions.”
“Questions you can answer after you've dressed.” The High Priestess jumped in and he guessed she wasn't impressed with his choice of attire. And it was then that he realised he was naked, his clothes having burnt off in the fire. He hadn't gone to sleep unclothed. But he suspected his visitors wouldn't listen to his excuses. So instead of arguing about it he poured a bucket of water from the trough over himself and then hurried into his house.
He was back soon enough, dressed in the neatest clothes he could find – not that he had many. And he had even less now that he'd let one set of clothes burn away. Maybe he should have thought about undressing first before he'd gone to sleep.
“High Priestess, Mistress.” He tried to show at least a little respect. They didn't notice.
“Boy, tell us how you crafted this.” The wizard pointed to the bow strapped to Erislee's back. Where did the knowledge come from? Did you pray? Have you joined the temple of Artemis?
“Never!” Even still half asleep he would not admit to such a betrayal of his family. But he did know what they needed to hear. And it felt almost as bad.
“I made a deal.” The instant the words came out of his mouth Harl wished they hadn't. They were probably the worst four words in the entire history of the world. After all, a deal was exactly what had started this entire disaster. But unfortunately it was true.
&n
bsp; Hesitantly he told them the rest. Of his prayer, pathetic as it was. Of the deal he had made. Of his waking up with the knowledge he needed. And of the days he had then spent at his pit. It wasn't easy to tell them. Not just because it sounded like the ravings of a crazy man. But because much of it seemed like a dream. But he knew it was true. He knew it most of all when he saw the longbow and when he felt the magic within it. Divine magic. Powerful magic. Magic that he couldn't fully understand. But which he remembered casting.
It was a strange thing. He had crafted the bow. He remembered doing it. And when he looked at it and felt the magic within it and the way it was shaped into the structure, he knew it was his. And it was perfect. But for the life of him he no longer had the knowledge of how he had crafted it. If he was called upon to do it again he couldn't. He wanted to. He felt the desire – more than the desire the need – to craft it every time he looked at it. But there was something that stood in the way. A gap of some sort in his understanding. And that was something he'd never known before.