The Godlost Land

by Curtis, Greg

  Harl jumped down from the pit and headed into the house, thinking mostly about what wards to place and where, while keeping an eye on the skies. But when he stepped inside it was to find his next unwelcome surprise of the day. The cat was on the table staring at him defiantly, looking almost smug about the rabbit bones scattered around him.

  He sighed. That was something else he also wouldn't mention to Nyma. She was unhappy with the cat already. He just wished he could find the gap where the damned animal was squeezing its way in and out of the house.

  But however the ball of orange fluff had managed to make his way into the house one thing was certain. Lunch it seemed was finished.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Early the next morning Harl set off for town, perhaps just a little relieved that he could. The scratches in his shoulder had been deeper than he realised, and there had been a lot of time spent bandaging his wound the previous day. It had started to hurt too, once the excitement had worn off.

  The fury had been buried in the woods, not as deep as he would have liked since the ground was so hard but far enough away that he hoped Nyma wouldn't find it. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell her if she did. Luckily he didn't think many scavengers would be interested in its remains and so lead her to it. Not something that venomous. It was also far enough away from his home that if anything did come for it, it wouldn't bother him. So there was hope. But at the same time he knew she was skilled in the ways of the woods. And she would see the scratches on his shoulder. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to explain them.

  Maybe he should just tell her? Maybe she wouldn't be that upset? And maybe the sun wouldn't come up in the morning!

  Of course she would be upset. Both because she cared and because he'd got hurt. And also because it was her duty to protect him and he kept making things difficult for her. He really didn't like the idea of what she would say when she found out. Still, he disliked keeping secrets from her. And even if he did try to hide it, she would eventually hear about the attack from the Commander. Then again, surely she would be pleased that he had done most of the things she'd asked him to do since the attack? That had to count for something.

  Wards had been crafted and set. First he had created a dozen for unsteady air just in case any more furies or harpies came for him. They would find flying somewhat difficult anywhere near his home. That was bad for them and probably the bird life that usually nested in the trees around his home in spring, but good for him. It would also upset the griffins that had taken up residence in the forest somewhere around his home he expected. But creating a basic ward was easy enough. Creating one that would only target certain people or creatures was much harder.

  As for those chimera that might come for him on foot, he'd ringed the clearing with wards of sloth. They weren't lethal – he had to allow for the fact that others might come and be slowed by them – but they would make whoever or whatever came for him harmless. Nyma would have to be happy with him about that surely – though she'd also be suspicious about why he was finally doing what she'd been asking him to do after all this time. She was a very sharp woman.

  Meanwhile he was wearing his full armour and an array of charms he'd prepared as well. Just in case. It had occurred to him as he was crafting his wards for the house that there was no reason he shouldn't be just as well protected. It had also occurred to him that as the fury was an assassin, that there was someone out there who wanted him dead. Not just in general, but specifically him. And that that person had to be somewhere nearby if only to know where he lived. It wasn't as though he could have instructed the fury to go to such and such a castle. So someone from the false temple was in town. If they would send one assassin they might send others. And not all of the false temple's assassins were furies.

  With sword in hand he could defeat a human assassin, and he could probably kill the thralls just as easily. But some could be wizards. He could not fight a wizard duel when he couldn't cast. That was always an arcane smith's weakness. And as the sages said no wizard of any sort was without weaknesses. Only the gods were. But with the charms he hoped he would be able to resist whatever magic they had long enough to send his sword slicing through their neck.

  He walked quickly, conscious of the fact that Nyma was due back shortly, possibly even that very afternoon, and he wanted to be ready for her with some good food. A nice berry jam, fresh bread and butter perhaps – if he could find a way to keep the damned cat away from it. What sort of cat liked bread and butter anyway? And why didn't he like mice? That was getting very annoying.

  He also needed some new clothes. He was forever needing new clothes. Life for an arcane smith's clothes was tough to begin with, but when he kept burning them up in the fire that just made things worse. Clothes and food, and not much income. Harl just hoped the coin in his pocket would be enough to pay for everything.

  Half an hour into his journey though, Harl stopped worrying about such things as he came across something unexpected. A faun was wandering up the track toward him.

  A faun! It had been a long time since Harl had seen a full blooded faun. They normally didn't come anywhere near the five kingdoms. Satyrs were more common, but satyrs also looked more like humans. They just had hairy legs and tiny horns on their heads. Fauns had shorter fur covering their entire bodies, and even on their faces where it looked like velvet. Their legs were also thinner, and bent backwards at the knees. Strangest of all they had hooves instead of feet. But where would a faun have come from?

  The closest of their lands that he could think of was Harvas Greens, far to the north west of Vardania. It was a land not of forests but jungles and marshes. There it was said they made their tent like homes in thousands of little clearings, and never allowed a single track or trail to be built between them as they regarded such things as violations of the world and the word of their god. Pan it seemed was very concerned that the world should not be violated. But then they didn't need such things. They were lithe and fast, and could weave their way between even the most densely grouped trees with ease. The land was perfect for them. And they seldom left it.

  In fact in all his life Harl had only ever known one faun to leave his home and trade it for the five kingdoms. There were some traders of course, and few travellers, but they never stayed. They almost without exception carried out their business and left. Save for one. And when he looked at the faun approaching him Harl suddenly realised it was him.

  “By the gods!”

  It had been a very long time since Harl had seen him, and truthfully he had always had trouble telling one faun from another – the fur tended to make things difficult. But he knew that mocking grin. He had seen it before. On the face of White Tail as he'd walked away from one of his jests as he called them. A bad one.

  In that case the jest had been one where he had convinced a local tanner that his wife was actually a man. That she'd tricked him into believing she was a woman. And that he was in actual fact sleeping with a man. No one had died at least. But the tanner had nearly lost his mind. He had beaten up his wife to the point where she could easily have died and then attacked the guards when they tried to pull him off her. And the reason for White Tail's jest? He had believed the tanner had overcharged him for a pair of boots.

  “Is there a problem soldier?” White Tail had obviously noticed his staring as they came closer.

  Of course Harl suddenly realised, White Tail didn't know him. If he had ever seen him it would have been only in passing and at the time he would have been much younger and only an apprentice. Not important enough for a member of the Circle to remember. And of course he would never have seen Harl dressed in armour and carrying a sword. Wizards didn't wear such things. They wore brightly coloured, festive clothes designed to show off their status. So White Tail wouldn't recognise him. He just thought a solider was reacting to the fact of his race in the Rainbow Mountains.

  Harl knew he had to make sure he continued to think that. After all White Tail was a wi
zard of the mind. A trickster. And a powerful one. The charms Harl was wearing would only grant him limited protection against his magic. If White Tail guessed he was a wizard and that he had some protection against his magic, he would be able to overcome it. He was a Circle wizard, not just a journeyman caster.

  “That there should be a faun in the Rainbow Mountains.” Harl managed a passably rough accent that would probably fool someone from the Kingdom of the Lion, but not a local. Fortunately White Tail wasn't a local.

  “But I'm just like you.” The wizard managed an ingratiating smile as he said it and at the same time Harl could feel the charm on his chest getting warm. Just as it would if the wizard was trying to deceive him with his magic. And he knew his best chance was to pretend it was working.

  “Just … like ...” Harl shook his head a little as if he was confused. “That is … I don't know.”

  “Are you all right soldier?” White Tail smiled some more and Harl's charm became hotter. How much more of the wizard's magic it could take before it burnt out he didn't know. But he thought it couldn't be a lot. Especially when he could already start to see White Tail's form starting to shift. Starting to change into whatever he wanted him to see.

  “I … I … don't know.” He did his best to look completely bewildered. As if he was under White Tail's spell. “I'm sorry. For a moment I thought you were … that is … I'm sorry. I don't know.”

  “That's quite all right soldier. But perhaps you could help me.” He smiled some more but this time Harl's charm didn't get any hotter. He suspected it meant that the wizard believed he was completely under his spell. That he was seeing exactly what White Tail wanted him to see.

  “Of course.”

  “I'm looking for an arcane smith who lives in these parts. Some friends of mine said he was out here somewhere.”

  “You mean Harl.”

  Harl named himself, hoping that White Tail didn't realised he had. He also hoped that the charm had stopped burning because White Tail had stopped trying to twist his thoughts. But he also knew that the charm might also have stopped getting warm because its magic had burnt out. In which case he could already be seeing whatever the Circle wizard wanted him to see. That was a frightening thought.

  “He lives further up the road, maybe twenty minutes' walk.” And as he said it Harl pointed in the direction of his home. “There's a track to the side by a huge blackberry bush. You can't miss it.” he told him the truth of course – the wizard might guess if he was lying.

  The charm didn't become hot again and the wizard seemed to relax a little. Even smile a bit more broadly. Perhaps he had pulled it off. Harl could only hope so.

  “And tell me does he do private work?”

  “Some I think. But mostly his work goes to the High Priestess and her army.”

  That drew a response. A very quick grimace of anger that the wizard immediately covered up. Harl pretended not to notice. But he was glad that he did notice. Surely that had to mean that he wasn't yet under White Tail's control?

  “Thank you soldier. And where may I ask are you heading this fine morning?”

  “Whitebrook and the fort. There's some new recruits that need training.”

  If he looked like a soldier and the Circle wizard thought he was one, then Harl decided he might as well pretend to be one.

  “So you help with the training?” White Tail smiled knowingly at him and instantly Harl's charm grew very hot once more. “That's very noble of you.” The wizard stepped closer to him and Harl immediately knew that he was going to try and get him to do something incredibly stupid. Probably something that was going to get him killed. That was White Tail's way.

  “But tell me, do you know that there's some of those nasty chimera just over there.” White Tail pointed to some bush off to the side of the road. “If you hurry I'm sure you'll be able to find them and kill them all.”

  “Where?” Harl pretended to be completely under the wizard's control.

  “Just over there in the forest. I'm sure if you hurry you'll find them. And if they're not there just keep going. After all, we don't want them to get away.”

  “Of course not.”

  Harl drew his sword as if he was preparing to go charging off into the forest exactly as the wizard wanted him to. And no doubt with his magic still ringing in his ears he would have kept running on and on until he got completely lost. But he had no intention of obeying White Tail. Not when the wizard had so foolishly stepped into range.

  Instead he spun all the way around sword in hand and let the tip of his weapon slice though White Tail's shoulder.

  The wizard screamed in shock and clutched at his arm, and at the same moment Harl's charm suddenly cooled. White Tail had forgotten his magic as he discovered the pain of his injury. But he would remember it quickly enough if he wasn't stopped. Which was why Harl stepped forward and kicked him hard in the gut, doubling him over and driving the air from his lungs so he couldn't speak. Then he punched him – hard – straight in the face.

  White Tail went flying backwards, and when he hit the ground he didn't move a lot. He just lay there, trying to breathe and far too lost in his personal battle for air to notice anything else.

  Anything like Harl stepping forward once more and kicking him in the head.

  After that the battle was over. The Circle wizard was unconscious, and Harl's charm cooled. But he knew the wizard wasn't dead. He wanted him to be, but he also knew from Alenda Goldeneyes' death that that would be a dangerous thing to happen. White Tail would get up again in time, and the moment he did and opened his mouth he would be dangerous. And so Harl quickly found a bunch of leaves from the side of the road, rolled them up into a ball, and then forced them into White Tail's mouth. Then he tied them in place with a strip of cloth he tore from the wizard's own robes.

  Finally he tore a few more strips from the wizard's robes and began tying him up. Binding him securely, and even blindfolding him. If the wizard couldn't talk or move, or even see anything than he would be close to helpless. It would be even better if he was unconscious. And so Harl decided that every time the Circle wizard made any sort of noise or even twitched a finger, he was going to smash him in the head. It wasn't honourable, and it was probably cruel. But the faun was not going to wake up. Not until he had drunk at least a few gallons of the tea and been completely restrained.

  Of course after that came the hard part. Just how was he to carry White Tail to the fort where he could be properly locked up? It was a long walk, even by himself. Dragging an unconscious wizard along with him all that way would make it much harder.

  But suddenly Harl felt strong. Especially when he realised that it was White Tail who had sent the fury after him. Who else would come after him personally when his pet had failed? Who else but the fury's master and someone who believed he was far more dangerous than any mere pet? And White Tail did believe he was that.

  So he ripped a low hanging branch down from one of the trees on the side of the track, pulled White Tail on to it and then started dragging him along the track. It might take a few hours but he would get his prisoner to the fort.

  An unexpected thought struck him just as he was just starting to settle into his effort, mostly because he had to repeatedly check that the wizard was fully on the branch and each time he did he remembered White Tail's magic. And it was something that should have occurred to him before. Long before when Nyma had first come to him with the strange tale of the wizards in Inel Ison suddenly becoming overcome with grief and shame for what they had done.

  At the time he hadn't paid her tale a lot of attention. While it had seemed odd to him that it should happen – always assuming it wasn't some ruse – it had also seemed proper. They should feel those emotions for what they'd done. And as for her fear for him, well, he felt the same guilt and shame he had lived with for five long years, simply for his failure to protect his family and friends. He always would. But it was no worse than before. And truthfully while it had been nice having
a pretty woman make a fuss over him about it, his thoughts had been elsewhere at the time. As they were every time Nyma was around.

  Nyma had said that Dina's thought was that it might be something to do with the binding, or with being removed from the demon king's influence for so long. It could be he guessed. But as he dragged the unconscious Circle wizard behind him, it occurred to him that it could actually be something else. It could also be the result of having emerged from under one of the spells placed by a wizard of the mind. He had seen others emerge from what White Tail had done to them. They had been a study in confusion as they not only returned to their normal ways of thinking, but then tried to reconcile what they had done with who they were. Guilt and shame were normal.