The Godlost Land

by Curtis, Greg

  Terellion wanted to believe them. But he also knew they would say anything to keep their tongues in their mouths. He also remembered that Midland Heights had been the best fortified city in the five kingdoms, and it had fallen to her. If she could crush it so easily, and then according to the stories level mountains with that accursed bow of hers, there was no such thing as safety behind walls. Especially when in time her armies would completely surround him. Terellion put that to them in the hope that one of them might have a useful answer.

  “Sir, we also have news about the bow.”

  One of the war masters – Terellion couldn't remember his name – spoke up suddenly. And then he turned to someone at his side. A soldier dressed in a scout's leathers.

  “This is Dari, a scout just returned from the Rainbow Mountains.”

  “Yes?”

  Terellion was actually curious even through his gloom. He had never before heard of a weapon of such terrible power. And if the gods had graced his enemy with such a weapon he needed to know if there was any way of countering it.

  “The soldiers in the Cut Valley Holding that I spoke to swear it wasn't the bow that destroyed the mountains. It was the wizards themselves. The High Priestess killed them with the bow from over a league away, but then they exploded. They say that the High Priestess' army has very strict instructions that no more Circle wizards are to be harmed because the consequences will be worse. They are to be captured and the High Priestess will deal with them herself.”

  The scout said it as if it was a bad thing. A calamity. But it wasn't. As Terellion sat on his throne staring in shock at the man giving his report, he knew it was a wonderful thing. In fact it might very well be his salvation! Because it meant that the destruction wasn't the result of the bow but the binding breaking. And that was power. Suddenly a smile began to force itself on to his face.

  The man didn't understand of course. He probably had no idea of what a binding even was. But Terellion did. And despite everything he began to laugh a little, overcome by the wonder of it. The relief. If the consequences of him dying were so great then with a little of Tyche's blessing, they knew that they couldn't kill him. He was safe! And moreover the city was safe. His city.

  He had known of course that there would be price to be paid by whoever killed him. He was a Circle wizard after all. When the magic was released from him it would burn. It might well explode. And he'd known that the magic contained within the binding would add to that when it was released by his death. But what the man was saying was so much more than he'd expected.

  Midland Heights, the plateau around it and the mountains around it had been destroyed? Not by this terrible weapon of the gods he'd been told about but by the death of the Circle wizards! And it was a binding. So with each successive death of a Circle wizard the devastation would be worse. That was wonderful! Better than wonderful! It was the best news he'd heard in ages. No army could afford to attack him when the likelihood was a fate so terrible that the world would tremble.

  Moreover the High Priestess had to know that he suddenly realised. She had killed the others. And she had to know that her bow couldn't do what she claimed. The deceitful bitch! Lying to her own followers! Claiming credit for his own magic! You just couldn't trust women. Not even priestesses.

  Still, her lies didn't matter. What mattered was that her army, even now marching through the Kingdom of the Lion and freeing towns as they approached Lion's Crest, was useless. Completely useless. She couldn't kill him. She couldn't even risk killing him. And she knew it. The lying bitch knew it! What good was a war machine if killing one or more of the Circle wizards would potentially destroy her own entire army?

  Terellion started laughing as the scout continued with his report. And the laughter grew. How could it not when after all the weeks and months of frustrations and worry, of feeling the noose grow ever tighter around his neck, he now knew he was in no danger at all? Everyone else might be, but not him! So he let the relief fill him and his laughter fill the throne room. He let the tears of happiness roll down his cheeks.

  It was a long time before it ended, and even then it only did so because he was tired. Physically exhausted from having laughed so hard. His lungs hurt, his eyes stung from the tears that had been leaking from them. And he suddenly knew that he had to take advantage of this wondrous turn of fortunes. Tyche might have finally blessed him but even she could do nothing if he was too stupid to use what she gave him. And he knew how to use this.

  “You're dismissed soldier!”

  For a moment Terellion thought about actually saying something appreciative about the man's work. But then he thought better of it. After all, as valuable as the information was the man had done little more than talk to a few people and listen to a couple of soldier's tales. He could have done that himself. The man had done a competent job but no more. And it had taken him months to do it.

  “Send for my envoys!”

  Terellion bellowed the order at no one in particular knowing it would be obeyed, and then waited, making plans how to use this to his advantage. And there was one obvious way. He had five more Circle wizards remaining at his beck and call. All he had to do was have each one lined up ready to die the moment the High Priestess' army attacked. All they had to do was stand there, out in the open, with a couple of archers behind them ready to kill them the moment the enemy attacked, and the High Priestess would be left with her plans in ruins. She couldn't attack, though at the same time he couldn't actually afford to kill them. Not when each death might finally collapse the binding and kill him.

  But the High Priestess bitch didn't know that. She only had to believe that he would do it.

  And maybe he would kill one – as a demonstration of how committed he was. It was dangerous and he knew it would hurt, but the binding had healed. And sometimes in life you had to take chances. You had to wager everything if you wanted to win. And he had already lost so much thanks to the treacherous demon king.

  Finally, it was time to win!

  Chapter Sixty

  “Harpies!” The cry came from inside the building and instantly people started screaming.

  But Nyma was more surprised than frightened. How could there be harpies in the hall? This was Ilendigo, nowhere near the border with the Regency at all, and even further away from the front lines which were now somewhere in the Kingdom of the Lion, where the warriors of the woods were crushing the enemy. They'd been there for six weeks now, their advance aided by a company of wild men from Erislee's army. Four thousand men who were described by many as barbarians and savages. They were called far worse by others. But the one thing they were described as by everyone, was deadly. They didn't use tactics or strategy, didn't bother with formations or magic. Instead they just ran into the battle and slaughtered everyone. They were possessed of a murderous rage and they killed the enemy with a ferocity that some claimed was born of the human goddess Lyssa. Because of them a campaign to free the Regency which should have lasted many more months had ended early, and the march into the Kingdom of the Lion had begun shortly after.

  The news from the war was all good. The enemy was being destroyed. He had been slaughtered wherever their forces had been. There should be no more left even in the Regency now, let alone Inel Ison where every town had been retaken. Still, “should be” and “were” were two different things as she knew only too well. It seemed that some had survived. And so she drew her sword as people panicked and prepared to face the threat head on.

  She was lucky to have the blade on her. It was only that she'd spent the morning training the local men in their sword work that meant she was still carrying it. The Assembly disliked people wearing weapons in public without good reason, and the war was a very long way from here. Still, she was a custodian, even if she could not ride at the moment, and the feel of a sword on her hip and the wardwood armour was as natural to her as clothes were to others. Even if it was a little snug in places these days. After all, she was now roughly five months preg
nant and the bulge was quite noticeable.

  Unexpectedly she heard screeching coming from the hall as she advanced into it, and knew that the cry had been true. The screech of harpies was distinctive. Almost as distinctive as the hissing of their viper cousins the furies. And it meant one thing; death.

  Nyma ran forward, expecting to face the creature at any moment. The town hall wasn't that large, and as people ran it was emptying out quickly. But she couldn't see it at first. Until she thought to look up. In her haste she'd forgotten that harpies could fly. Which of course was how the foul creature had arrived in the town, potentially crossing battle grounds to do it. It had flown over them.

  It was hideous. The worst imaginable cross between a woman and a bat imaginable, and cursed with disease. Festering boils and mange covered every part of her pallid skin which in turn was riddled with dark blue veins. The harpy was the very picture of ill-health. Some said they were the harbingers of doom, the consorts of Tantalus the cannibal king as he served out his sentence in Tartarus. He had killed and served up his own son at a feast for the gods according to the sages, and the harpies were his punishment. An outraged mother's retribution. The only women he could ever touch.

  “Clear the room!”

  Nyma gave the call as she waited for the harpy to attack again. She had to wait since she couldn't reach the creature as it perched on the beams high above. But it would attack, she knew that. It had already killed three of her people. They were lying on the ground, breathing their last as the harpy's disease burned through them. Her heart told her to go to them, and give them comfort as they died. But her head and her years of training told her that would be a mistake. This was battle, and you never took your eyes off your enemy in a battle.

  At least there were few people left to run, most of the hall had been cleared by then. And that she thought would give her plenty of room to dodge and swing her sword. But that was the only good news she had. The bad news was that she was alone in this fight, and harpies were extremely dangerous. She would have given a lot to have her brothers and sisters in the watch there with her. But of course they were busy fighting the war. But still it was only one beast. She could kill it.

  The harpy suddenly struck, launching itself at her and she had no time to think of of anything except the battle. Not when it flew at speed and she had to dodge quickly. Despite their awkward forms and strange flapping, the things were surprisingly fast, and she barely managed to get out of its way. But she did open up a small wound in the creature's talon as she twisted aside, and that was what she wanted. She needed to slow it down.

  It screeched as if she had dealt it a mortal blow, and streaked upwards for the safety of the rafters, smashing into a lamp wheel on the way through. Several of the lamps shattered and fell to the floor, scattering burning oil everywhere, and that was not good. Not when she couldn't rush out to find a damp cloth to throw over the fire. She could only hope that the fire didn't catch. She also wondered why the thing didn't seem to have been slowed by the blade. Everything else was. People, minotaurs, leonids, but not the harpy. It just looked angry. Maybe as a carrier of disease it was immune to the spell of sloth?

  Again the harpy struck at her and this time she was lucky not to get grazed. But still she was quick enough to avoid its talons and somehow even managed to put her sword through its back leg as it flapped away. It wasn't quite the target she wanted – she desperately wanted to slash its wings – but it still caused the creature to screech in pain and made it fly awkwardly. The wing after all was attached to the leg as well as the arm, so if the leg didn't work correctly neither did it. Unfortunately it smashed into another lamp wheel as it flew and more lamps broke scattering burning oil everywhere. There was suddenly a real danger that the hall would burn down.

  It struck at her a third time a few moments later, and this time she managed a good strike across its wing. That was where she had been aiming all along, and instantly the harpy was crippled. Without intact wings it couldn't fly and instead it crashed and spun out of control and then slid along the wooden floor. It slid through the puddles of burning oil on its way and instantly caught fire, something that pleased Nyma a lot. But then it smashed into the far wall and the flames covering it spread up the velvet curtains. The hall she knew then was doomed.

  It was time to leave. The harpy was still screeching and flapping wildly as it died in flames, but its death was certain. Just as she knew her own survival depended on leaving before she was trapped in the fire.

  Nyma hurried for the exit, thinking only about escaping the fire, when the unexpected happened. A second harpy landed right in front of her, too close for her to avoid. It caught her with a scratch of its talons across her arm and she knew in that terrible moment that it was a deadly strike. Any scratch by a harpy was death. That was what made them so dangerous. Still, she struck back, sending her blade slicing through its wing and arm, and heard it screech with pain.

  After that things didn't go so well. It couldn't fly away so instead it hopped at her, and though she managed to put her sword through its leg, the harpy managed to scratch her a second time. This time a taloned foot caught her in the thigh. From there on things became worse.

  The harpy was badly injured, but it wouldn't stop attacking her. Meanwhile the venom was already starting to work its way through her, and she could feel her body weakening. As if that wasn't enough the first harpy was still flapping around setting more curtains on fire. There were flames everywhere. Nyma knew that if she was to have any hope of surviving she had to escape the burning hall and find a healer. It was a faint hope but it was all she had.

  And then suddenly her leg collapsed beneath her and she didn't even have that. Not when she found herself lying on the floor on her back and the second harpy was hopping toward her. Still, she decided as she raised her sword, she could at least bring the creature to Hades with her, and then hopefully she wouldn't head on with it to Tartarus. She had lived well and fought well. With luck Elysium awaited her.

  Out of the corner of her eye she suddenly saw a third harpy arriving from out of nowhere, smashing through the roof and she knew that she had no hope of killing it as well. Not when she already felt so weak and her vision had started to blur. Two would be her lot.

  But unexpectedly the new harpy attacked the other one, landing behind it and then sending it flying with a slash of its talons. The harpy flew back, spinning wildly out of control before smashing into the distant wall. After that it fell heavily to the ground and didn't move.

  Which left her lying there with the third harpy coming toward her, and trying to work out what was happening. Why had one harpy killed the other? Or had the disease already reached her mind? But as it came closer she realised that it was different. It had long snakes for hair that ran all the way down to its waist. The creature wasn't a harpy at all. It was a fury. A winged assassin and probably the most dangerous of all the chimera. Save perhaps for the manticores. There was only one man she knew of that had fought and killed both, and he was three hundred leagues away.

  “Friend.” The fury spoke to her as she approached her, and Nyma thought for a moment she'd misheard. Furies didn't speak. Chimera had the minds of animals and animals didn't talk. But then the fury said it again, and while it might be the venom in her flesh destroying her mind, she had to believe it had happened.

  “Now ease.” The fury spoke to her – something Nyma hadn't known they could do – and she wondered why. Why she'd killed her cousin the harpy. But she understood what she wanted her to do. To relax. To lie back and let the disease do its work. And though it seemed wrong, she also thought it could be the best thing to do. There was no cure for the disease of harpies. She was going to die anyway.

  Still, she just couldn't do it and she struggled up to her feet somehow. Naturally that only made things worse. It sped up the disease as it raced through her veins, making it harder to breathe. It also hurt. Being infected with harpy disease was a bad way to die. Then she lost control of
her legs once more and fell backwards again.

  But she didn't hit the ground. It took her a few heartbeats to realise that. To understand that she wasn't hurting from having hit the hard ground. That she hadn't had the breath knocked out of her. And then it took her a few more heartbeats to realise that the reason why she hadn't hit. For some reason the fury had broken her fall and caught her. She was still holding her off the ground, her talons were cradling her back, supporting her. And her face was in front of her.

  “Not struggle. Think of baby. Think of Harl.”

  Harl? She did think of him then – she couldn't help it as she suddenly realised that she was never going to see him again. Never going to feel his powerful arms around her again. Never going to enjoy the comfort and warmth of his bed again. But how did the fury know about him? Why did she care? Harl had killed one of them not that long before. Somehow, not that it seemed important, she asked.

  “Sister controlled. Now free. Not blame Harl.”

  “Now ease.” It made no sense to her, but Nyma was almost certain the fury was trying to help her. So much so that she let the weakness in her arm take control and dropped her sword. It didn't really matter now anyway. They were surrounded by fire. The hall was well alight, the air was filling with smoke and she was dying. So too was the fury. Except of course that she could fly. She could escape. So why was she still here with her?