The Godlost Land

by Curtis, Greg

  “And just you stay away from her!” Nyma laughed happily. She'd been doing that a lot of late he noticed. And he could only hope that it was because she was happy with the way things were between them. She could still be stern with him though. And she absolutely loved telling him off about his supposed failings. But at least she was laughing more often.

  “I have property rights you know.” She stepped into his arms and kissed him leaving him with no doubt about what she was referring to.

  “That you do – as do I.” He kissed her back.

  “You do indeed.” She stepped back a way and rubbed his cheek softly with the palm of her hand. “I'm glad we've agreed on that.”

  “But I have to go.” And with that she stepped back to her horse, mounted up and galloped off with only a last wave leaving him standing there, feeling completely helpless and wondering when he'd see her again.

  There was something profoundly wrong with the whole thing he thought as she disappeared from sight. It was the men who were supposed to ride off to war and the women who stayed home.

  And property rights? What exactly had he agreed to?

  Naturally the cat was no help as he lay stretched out on the grass enjoying the sun and watched the whole thing. He wasn't going to answer any questions. He was just going to sun himself and let the day pass by. And probably start demanding food shortly. But maybe, Harl thought, the damned cat had the right idea. Don't get attached. Don't give your heart away. That way you could never be hurt.

  If only he could.

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Five days into her ride through the Regency, Nyma came across a party of soldiers and had to duck hurriedly into the woods. She was surprised by them and not just because she hadn't expected to run into them. She had other reasons.

  The first was that they were soldiers, at least a couple of hundred men at arms, out on their own and a long way from the nearest town. There were no chimera with them and no priests. That just didn't happen. Generally the soldiers stayed in the towns and only ventured further out with escorts. With the priests who could protect them from the beasts, and of course with the beasts too.

  But more than that, there were wizards with them. A dozen of them. Of course she knew that many, perhaps half of all the false priests, were in fact wizards. But these wizards weren't dressed as priests. They were riding openly as wizards. That was how she knew what they were. They were wearing brightly coloured cassocks, jackets with puffed out sleeves, tailored pants, capes, shawls and whatever else they could drag out of their old clothing chests. The only rule of wizards clothing from before the false temple's arrival had been that the brighter and more gaudy it was the better. The more that it showed off their status, the more they liked it. But a wizard in his or her normal attire was a sight that hadn't been seen in the five kingdoms since the attack.

  Staring at them it was almost as though the last five years hadn't happened. There hadn't been any wizards seen in the five kingdoms in all that time. Not since the attack. Certainly not dressed as such. They'd either been hunted down and learned to run and hide as a hundred different types of commoners. or they'd joined the false temple and started wearing priest robes. What did it mean that suddenly the wizards were out in the open again? That they'd given up pretending to be priests? Was there a split between the wizards and the rest of the temple as her sister had said?

  While she had no answer for that, something else surprised her about them. She was riding the back trails, staying well clear of the towns. It was safer that way. And in taking the back roads she almost never encountered anyone save a few chimera. Yet here they were in front of her, taking the little used trails themselves as they rode north west. North west to the Kingdom of the Lion she guessed. But why weren't they taking the main roads? They were better graded, the bridges had been tended to, and the roads were more direct. You took the back roads when you were either only travelling from one town to the next, or when like her you were trying not to be noticed.

  As she stood there hidden in the trees, Nyma pondered that. It looked very much as her sister had said. That the wizards and the soldiers were returning to the Kingdom of the Lion. They were abandoning the other towns and the false temples. And yet it made no sense. While the wizards might be frightened and were retreating as frightened people did, surely they had to know that their greatest strength lay in standing with their allies? Running away was madness.

  Unexpectedly the madness grew greater still. Even as they passed the crossroads on the trail she was riding, she saw one of the soldiers raise his hand to the sky and shout something. She couldn't catch what he had said, but when she followed the direction of his arm she saw what he was pointing at. Harpies! A whole flock of them.

  For a moment she didn't understand what was so important about them. And then she watched the soldiers all draw their crossbows and the first of the wizards start casting fire balls at the flock and understood. This wasn't an amicable split between the demon king's armies and the wizards. It was a war.

  Heartbeats later she watched as maybe a dozen harpies fell out of the sky, most of them on fire. But she also saw fifty or sixty of the foul beasts descend on the column and start killing the soldiers.

  After that there was fire and lightning everywhere. Someone had raised a whirlwind that was sending harpies and soldiers flying in all directions. There were men screaming and blood covered bodies flying. Horses were neighing in terror and some bolted with their riders on top of them. Other riders weren't so lucky and were dragged along as their mounts galloped away. Wizards were being killed as well as soldiers. She watched them fly through the air just like the soldiers, and she watched them smash into the ground the same way and stop moving.

  It was a short battle. Perhaps thirty of the harpies fell out of the sky, or half the flock, while surely fifty or sixty soldiers and wizards had also fallen. But before it could go any further someone called a retreat on a horn and the rest of the riders took off down the track at the best gallop their frightened steeds could manage, the surviving harpies giving chase. They were hunters. They could never let their prey run away. Every part of them said that they had to chase them down.

  Soon they were all charging down the trail at breakneck speed, and disappearing from sight, while Nyma remained hidden in the trees, wondering if she'd really seen what she was still seeing. Could the false temple really be at war with itself? It took her quite a while to make up her mind.

  Eventually she realised there was only one way to be certain and that was to see the fallen close up. So when the land was quiet again she summoned up her courage, called her horse to her, and emerged from the trees to walk down the trail to the battle field. And then when she got there she knew it was true. There was something about the sight of all the bodies and the smell of the blood that she simply couldn't deny.

  Sixty men at least were down, most of them dead. A few were still struggling to survive, but when she looked in their faces and saw the blue lines growing – evidence of the harpy's sickness – she knew they wouldn't live long. The disease was in their veins.

  Five of the wizards were down too, their brightly coloured clothes drenched in bright red blood. A couple of them were burning as their magic left them. The other two were barely smouldering. Clearly these weren't the most powerful of their peers. They were the apprentices. But while four of them were obviously dead, one of them still lived. A youngster – he couldn't be more than eighteen – but she knew that he wouldn't see his next birthday. Not when the blue tracery of veins was slowly crawling up his neck.

  Strangely he saw her and called out to her. He even reached out to her with his arms, as if imagining for some reason that she would help him. Did he not see that she was a dryad? Did he not understand what he and his kind had done? Still, she went to him, not to offer him help, but to ask him some questions before he passed.

  “What happened here?”

  “Xin … demon … betrayed us.” He forced the words ou
t as if they were important. As if they should be in some way shocking. But really she knew they weren't. Demons lied. They betrayed. That was simply what demons did. On the other hand she did notice one thing as he kept trying to reach for her. The tattoo on his wrist, his brand that connected him with the demon – it was burnt off. Had he burnt it off? And was it because as he claimed the demon king had betrayed them?

  “Of course he did. He's a demon.” She looked around for some water. It might help him speak. “What did you expect a demon to do?”

  “No. His deal … it was a lie.”

  “Again, of course. He's a demon.” She found a small leather water pouch, shook it to check if it had any water in it, and then bent down to pour him a few drops. It turned out to be wine in the pouch instead of water, but the wizard still slurped at it greedily. It seemed to help a little. And she did understand his doubt a little. Demons always honoured their deals to the letter. It was just that they always made certain that what they offered was never what the fool who dealt with them thought it was. But she did wonder exactly what he meant and in time she asked.

  “Terellion sent word ... They finally .. worked the spells. But … it didn't work. The six great answers are useless. They're the unbindings for descended gods.”

  He slurped down a few more drops of the wine while Nyma knelt there beside him, understanding completely. And wondering if she should laugh or cry.

  These six great answers Harl had spoken of. The spells to make someone into a god. They weren't that at all. They were the means by which the gods when they sometimes took mortal form and walked the world could return to their original form. So while they might have received exactly what the wizards had asked for, the spells could only be used by gods themselves. It might almost have been funny if it wasn't so tragic. If so many weren't already dead. If there hadn't been so much suffering. And all of it had been for nothing.

  “And where were you going?”

  “Lions … Crest. Terellion called us all home. He's shut … the gate. Until … Xin ...” His voice trailed off as he lost control of his throat. And Nyma knew he would say no more. The blue tracery of veins had reached up to his cheeks and that was the end. His mouth opened and closed with nothing coming out of it. Not words and not even air. His throat was writhing as he choked on his own poisoned blood. And his eyes were bulging with fear as he tried desperately to breathe and couldn't. He was being slowly strangled from the inside.

  It took another minute for him to die. For his head to finally roll to one side as the last of his life left him. Briefly she knew a moment of sorrow for him. But only for a heartbeat or two. Considering what he'd done, or what he'd at least been a part of, he didn't deserve her sympathy. He had probably died too easily. Even though he had surely been only a child when the deal had been made, he had accepted it and carried on the evil.

  More important than his death though was what he'd been trying to say. That Terellion had closed the gate through which the demon king had sent his armies. The gate she guessed worked two ways. Xin sent his chimera through it to kill. But presumably the lives of those he killed also flowed back through it to him. And when Terellion had closed it he had stopped Xin being fed. He'd starved the demon. He'd broken the deal. And that had started a war.

  All of which left her with one obvious question. What happened now?

  Clearly the wizards and the demon king's armies would go to war. As they apparently already were. But that was neither here nor there. But what else? Somehow she couldn't imagine the demon king being happy about being cut off. She also couldn't imagine him backing down either, or agreeing to some sort of treaty. Xin was always about power and pride, as were all the denizens of Tartarus. He would strike back. He would try and reopen the gate. How she didn't know. Would he try to make another deal? It was the time honoured tradition for demons after all. They always had another deal ready. But if the wizards had broken the deal? Then no. Xin would not offer them a new one. For a demon the deal was everything. It had to be honoured to the letter. And there was no greater crime than breaking one.

  So would he instead command those of his servants here in the world to attack until the last wizard had fallen? Maybe, she thought. After all, he regarded all his thralls and all his chimera as expendable. And he no doubt considered himself betrayed.

  As for the wizards – what would they do? Obviously they would retreat to Lion's Crest, and there try to make a stand. But would they reopen the gate? When they were desperate? When it came to the end and they were surrounded and Xin's beasts were all that stood between them and death? She suspected they might. They might well do anything to get more soldiers to protect them. And what would they offer in return?

  Then there were the thralls. If the gate had been closed then she guessed they had now been cut off from their masters. What were they going to do? Somehow she suspected it would begin with them trying to make contact with their masters through other means. Sacrifices and prayers, demon altars and black shrines and the like. The traditional ways in which they had made contact. But until they did could they still keep control of the chimera? Or would the beasts start running wild?

  Then of course there was the binding. Was it still intact? She suspected it must be, or else Terellion could not have sent word anywhere. He would be dead as presumably would be many others. So he must have shut the gate, but not destroyed it. Which meant it could be reopened at any time.

  Suddenly Nyma had too many questions and not enough answers. But the one thing she did have was a mission. And now she knew it was more important than ever before. The Great Assembly had to hear of this. So too did the High Priestess. They had to know what had happened. Soon!

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Brunna Nye was a typical dryad town albeit a little larger than most with five thousand people calling it home. Nyma was very glad to be there.

  The ride had been hard. Not so much because of the danger as the distress she had felt on her return. She had crossed the Regency safely and quickly enough, after all she knew how to scout and how to avoid enemies. But then when she had entered Inel Ison, she had discovered that things were worse than she had guessed. Towns had fallen. A lot of towns. And though she knew that most of them had been emptied of people long before the enemy had attacked them, still many people had died.

  The enemy had paid a price for his crimes. A heavy price. She'd ridden through several battle grounds where the dead numbered in the thousands at least. Her people had used the land to their advantage, knowing where to strike. So narrow passes where the enemy would be blocked in and foothills where they could be attacked from above had become graveyards. They had used a favoured tactic of Erislee's as well and had attacked the invaders from across a swamp. The bog had slowed the chimera as they raced to attack them, leaving them vulnerable to arrows and magic, and then when they drew too close, their soldiers had simply ridden off. They knew the easier paths through the swamps and the invaders didn't. As she'd ridden though that swamp Nyma would have guessed that at least three or four thousand invaders had fallen there.

  But it wasn't enough. She'd passed through five towns where the invaders had been on her way to reach the Great Assembly. And in each of those towns the story had been the same. There were bodies. Those she assumed of the defenders who had refused to leave their homes, and those of the raiders. And then there had been fire. The invaders had burnt the towns to the ground.

  They had been thorough too. They hadn't just stopped in the heart of the town but had continued to the residential areas. Every dryad town was laid out in the same way. Businesses, the town hall and the stores were always contained in a hub in the centre of the town, while the people lived in a larger ring surrounding the hub. The wise ones who had come up with the layout millennia before called it a wagon wheel. But the invaders had set fire to the hub and then wandered out to the ring and set it alight as well. Then they had killed the animals in the fields and burnt the orchards. There was nothing left for t
he people to return to.

  “Scorched earth” the war masters called the tactic, and it was an apt name. Especially when they'd set fire to the fields as well. She just called it vile. This was her home, her peoples' lands. Many of the dead were her people. And for someone to do such a thing was beyond her understanding. Riding through those towns, seeing the bodies and the ruin, for the first time she had gained some true appreciation of what Harl had endured. Of what he had lost. She understood a little more of the rage he felt.

  Finally though she'd reached Brunna Nye where the Great Assembly was meeting and there was no sign of any burning. There were however plenty of signs of fear if not outright panic.