The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War)

by Aaron Pogue

  “Auric, you heard how Sera feels about all this. I’ve no desire to see you embroiled in my madness.”

  Auric shook his head. “It isn’t your madness, Corin. It’s theirs. Ephitel’s and Pellipon’s and all of theirs. It’s wrong, and it must end.”

  Corin wanted to argue, if only for Sera’s sake, but Auric wasn’t wrong. Instead, Corin closed his grip tighter on Auric’s shoulder. “One thing at a time. First, Ephitel, and then we’ll see about the rest.”

  Auric seemed to waver, and Corin caught his eye. “This is no easy matter. You must see that. It will take careful planning, and we cannot afford to start a war with all the gods. Not all at once. Not until we’ve breached their hull. Once they’re foundering, taking on water fast, then we can fall upon them like justice.”

  Auric still seemed anxious to charge into the fray. “Ephitel is not alone in his tyranny!”

  “We will break them, Auric, but not with a direct assault. They will not take any move against them lightly, and they have mighty armies and untold powers at their disposal. Look what Ephitel did to Aemilia just because I struck one of his dandies.”

  “That isn’t right,” Auric growled. “It cannot be allowed.”

  “But if we are to fight such power, we must take every step with care. Think of Sera. She’s a target, just as much as Aemilia. She’ll be seen as a traitor, and they will not abide that.”

  Auric blinked. His fervor faded, replaced by a raw fear for her safety. “What do I do?”

  Regret clenched Corin’s gut. He hadn’t meant to scare the man; just to delay him. But now he sought some soothing answer. “For now? Nothing. Keep a careful eye out, watch for any sign of danger, and enjoy your days with Sera.”

  “All of this I’ve done. But what if Ephitel comes for her?”

  It was a good question, and Corin found his answer. “If you see any of sign danger—or especially if I should disappear without other notice—take Sera and go to the druids. Ask for Jeff. It will be easiest if you can work with him.”

  Some of the tension drained from the farmboy’s expression. “I’ve dealt with the druids before. They can help me?”

  “They will. They helped me bring Sera here in the first place, and they understand the threat. Aemilia was one of theirs, after all.”

  Auric clapped Corin on the shoulder. “Thank you. Now go and find your allies. You should be able to find my friend in the tavern here in Taurb. Walking, it might take you four hours in good weather.”

  Corin considered the clear sky and nodded. “I’ll make it in three.”

  “There you have it, then. I know that my friend had planned to stay there while he made all his arrangements. He’d hoped to leave this afternoon, but it might take him until tomorrow.”

  Corin grinned. He’d planned to wait in the same tavern for Ben’s arrival. It could be no great challenge to convince this new companion to wait a day or two. With Fortune’s favor, he’d have the sword in hand when he set sail to meet the ancient elves.

  He caught Auric’s eye. “And how will I know this friend of yours? Has he a name?”

  Auric answered the question with a grin. “He does, but I think it only fair that I leave him to tell you. I do assure you, you will know him when you see him.”

  Corin frowned. “This is scarcely the time for playing games.”

  Auric only grinned the wider. “I’ve said all I will say on the matter.”

  Corin almost pressed him for more, but he could not credit the slightest malice in the farmboy’s nature. And more than that, Corin’s own good fortunes had won him over. After so long sailing blind, he had a course that he could count on. He felt ready to face anything.

  So instead of arguing, he bowed his head to Auric. “Thank you for everything, my friend. Please give Sera my warmest regards and honest gratitude for her hospitality in my darkest hour.”

  With that, he took his leave. He did not even return to the cottage; everything he owned was in the cloak he caught up from the ground. He clasped Auric’s arm in friendship, then followed the graveled path back to the packed earth road.

  It took a little more than three hours, even at the brisk pace he set, but he spent the entire time in thought. He considered everything he’d said to Auric and Sera about man’s need for gods. He reviewed the secrets he had shared with them, the plans he had revealed, and tried to consider all the ways they might betray him.

  He had not forgotten the coincidence he was pursuing now. In all the world, who else might have such an interest in finding the elves of old Gesoelig? How would someone such as he have found friendship with the farmboy? Why would he be here now? And why hadn’t Auric given him a name? Was Corin marching straight into a trap?

  Corin couldn’t credit the man with that much duplicity. He’d have seen more of a hint than just this happenstance. No, if there were some sinister plot afoot, then Auric and Sera both were as much deceived as Corin. But that did not rule out the plot.

  Corin puzzled over the question for a mile or two, but in the end he knew it wouldn’t stop him. How could he pass up an opportunity—however frail—to find a companion in a quest like this? Especially if it were truly one who had the resources to find what Corin needed.

  He touched the hilts of his knife and dagger, unconscious reassurance, and reminded himself that he could slip through dream as easily as thinking. Even a justicar had been unable to stop him.

  Gradually, he fought down the buzz of anxiety and set his mind on happier things. It would be a victory to find some familiar face from Oberon’s dreams. He’d raise an army such as Hurope had not seen in ages, and he would lead them against their brothers who played at being gods.

  While he approached the village of Taurb, he imagined how the fight might go. He’d caught no more than glimpses of the elves in combat, even in the dream, but he could guess from what he’d seen and legends he had heard. Fortune favor, he would become a legend if he pulled this off. Bards would sing his tale across the breadth of a Hurope that bowed its knee to no lords but the ones they chose. He could almost hear the ballad now, trilling to the sound of a raucous fiddle.

  The music swelled, and Corin chuckled as he realized it was not his imagination at all. The song was coming from the tavern just ahead. It seemed they had a minstrel entertaining despite the early hour. Perhaps that would alleviate the tedium while Corin tried to uncover this mysterious friend of Auric’s.

  He did not forget his caution, though. He turned aside before he reached the village square, slipping between two houses so he could approach the tavern from the back. A narrow door stood open on the alley, leaking all the warmth and noise of a bustling kitchen out into the autumn morning.

  Despite his fears, Corin shoved back his cowl as he slipped through the open door. A kitchen door would often offer welcome to a friendly vagabond, but short shrift to a lurking scoundrel. Presentation was the key.

  He caught the elbow of a passing serving boy and tipped his head in greeting. “Morning, sir. Can you summon me the master of the house? I’d have a word with him.”

  The young man looked Corin up and down, then shrugged and turned to call across the kitchen in his native tongue, “Maître Jacob! Pour vous!”

  Corin blinked in surprise as a grizzled old man by the hearth fire climbed to his feet. The old man stood a full hand taller than Corin and was as skinny as a fence post. Corin almost expected to hear a crackling pop every time he moved, or at least a tortured groan, but the man came forward with a surprising agility and caught Corin’s hand in a firm grip.

  “Jacob Gossler. Pleased to meet you!” He spoke an easy Ithalian, which should not have been a surprise for a tavern keeper, but Corin hadn’t hoped for much in such a quiet little village.

  “And you,” Corin responded. “I hoped you could help me with a delicate matter.”

  The tavern keeper grinned. “Of course, sir! This is Raentz!”

  Corin flashed a smile in answer, then shook his head. “It is a differ
ent kind of delicate. I had hoped to meet up with an old companion here in Taurb, but he is late in coming, and I fear missing him. Could I trouble you to watch for him and pass along a message?”

  The tavern keeper spread his hands. “I will help you if I can, but will your friend come here looking?”

  Corin chuckled. “Do you know another tavern anywhere nearby?”

  “Not for more than half a day’s journey,” Jacob said.

  “Then there you have it. Ben would never go so long without a drink. He’ll be here.”

  “And what would you have me tell him?”

  Corin hesitated at that. The tavern keeper wore no cheap brass ring on his right hand, or it would have been an easy matter. Though this was not a Nimble Fingers tavern, tavern keepers everywhere observed similar traditions. Attention to details kept them safe, and discretion made them wealthy.

  “He is a dwarf who goes by the name of Ben Strunk. If you find him anywhere in the village, send him to me straightaway. He is carrying a package that I dearly need.”

  “Then you will be staying with us?”

  “Aye. If you can spare a room.”

  “I can indeed. But what if he should pass this way when you are not available?”

  Corin hesitated. It was only a practical concern to the tavern keeper, but it rang with the same caution Auric had expressed before, and Corin found himself offering the same answer. “If he should arrive after I have gone, bid him deliver his parcel to the nearest druid he can find. He’ll take the meaning of it.”

  Jacob laughed. “I hope he does, because it sounds like children’s tales to me.”

  “It is a most important matter.”

  “I can hear that in your voice,” the tavern keeper said, growing solemn. “And I will treat it so.”

  Corin bowed his head, grateful, then he turned his gaze toward the common room. “I am supposed to meet someone else here this afternoon. Would you mind if I lingered in your common room?”

  “I’ll send a boy out with my finest brandy.”

  Corin shook his head. “Beer will do. I am a simple man. But I’d accept a crust of bread if you had it to spare.”

  While they discussed refreshments, the tavern keeper started forward, and Corin followed him out through the door and into the common room. He’d gone perhaps two paces when the music stopped. Then, from the front of the room, someone shouted, “You!” in vicious accusation.

  Corin turned in the direction of the voice, then hurled himself to the floor one heartbeat before a finely crafted fiddle smashed itself to splinters on the wall he’d been standing next to.

  Corin rolled away by instinct, but his attacker pounced upon him, raining vicious slashing blows with the fiddle’s bow. It was a flimsy weapon, but it cut the air and left welts wherever it found skin.

  Confusion cost Corin more than one such injury before he gathered enough control to defend himself. He caught his attacker’s ankles in a grip between his own and twisted sharply, dragging the minstrel from his feet even as Corin levered himself upward. He spun and leaped, throwing himself upon his fallen attacker. His left arm swept up high to push the minstrel’s arms away and trap them against the tavern’s floor. His right hand found the dagger on his belt and whipped it up to press a dimple in the soft skin beneath the other man’s jaw.

  They lay locked in that position for a moment, Corin’s chest heaving from the sudden exertion. He blinked sweat from his eyes and got a good close look at the man who had attacked him.

  He spat a curse. “Oh, gods’ blood! It’s you, isn’t it?” He eased the knife away from the man’s jaw and rolled aside to stare up at the ceiling beside the person who’d tried to kill him.

  “Auric sent me to meet you here,” Corin said. “He thinks we should travel together. You’re hunting for the elves, right? I have information you will need.”

  Beside him on the floor, the scholar Tesyn cursed in all the living languages of Hurope. And several dead ones.

  A stunned silence had gripped the common room from the moment Tesyn sprang on Corin. The tavern keeper was the first man to recover. While Corin still lay panting for breath, the wiry old man stomped forward, grabbed Tesyn by both shoulders, and lifted the poor scholar bodily from the ground. He held him dangling half a foot above the floor, shouting in a furious Raentzian and shaking Tesyn like a pennant in the wind.

  Corin took no hurry climbing to his feet. Tesyn? That was the last thing Corin had expected. He’d almost have been happier to find Jessamine waiting here in ambush. At least he might have tortured her for information.

  The worst of it was that Auric’s plan still made good sense. If there was anyone in the Godlands who might have the knowledge Corin needed, it was likely to be Tesyn. The young scholar had provided the map that sent Corin to Gesoelig in the first place. Of course, he hadn’t done it willingly. That complicated matters somewhat.

  An idea struck Corin, then. Perhaps there was another map to be taken. That would certainly simplify his immediate future. He stepped forward and lay a restraining hand on the old man’s shoulder. “What can you tell me of this troublemaker? Has he been here long?”

  “He is a stranger. He came here late last night and rented a place beside the fire.”

  Corin frowned. “Not a room, then? Does he have any belongings with him? Books? Papers? Perhaps a scrollcase?”

  The tavern keeper nodded in sudden understanding. “He is a thief? He stole from you?”

  Corin considered saying yes. It would have been an easy way to search the scholar’s belongings. But if there were no map, he’d have to settle for Tesyn’s help. So he shook his head and sighed. “Not precisely. It’s a complicated matter. He owns a certain document—”

  “I’ve seen no documents,” Jacob answered, apologetic. “He came here with nothing but the clothes on his back and the instrument he attacked you with. But give me half an hour, and I’ll find out where it’s hidden.”

  Corin searched the scholar with a glance, then shook his head. “No. None of this is necessary. Release this man. I can settle matters on my own.”

  The tavern keeper’s eyes went wide with indignation. “Master, do forgive. No one assaults respectable gentlemen in my common room. I’ll see this dog beaten and then I’ll deliver him to the gendarmes! They’ll find whatever answers you need from him.”

  Tesyn squawked some frantic defense in fluent Raentzian, but the proprietor silenced him with a vicious shake. Corin suppressed a grin.

  “I appreciate your concern,” Corin said. “But I’m afraid I must insist. He had his reasons for attacking me, and I have pressing need of him. At liberty.”

  The proprietor looked doubtful, but Corin held his eye with a steady gaze. After a moment of studying his expression, the tavern keeper nodded and dropped Tesyn to the floor.

  Corin offered him a grateful smile. “You have my word there will be no new disturbances.” He glanced over his shoulder at the wall where Tesyn’s fiddle had shattered on the plaster. “If he’s done any damage to your property, add it to his bill. And another round for your patrons. That should make things right.”

  Tesyn squawked again, but the proprietor nodded in satisfaction and withdrew into the kitchen to see to matters.

  Eyes flashing, the scholar rounded on Corin. “You have no right—”

  “Be careful,” Corin said, his voice steady. “I gave my word there’d be no new disturbances. Control yourself, or you’ll have a chance to research the inner workings of a backwoods Raentzian gaol.”

  Tesyn’s eyes popped, but he clamped his jaw shut.

  Corin nodded. “Good. Now, Auric tells me you intend to find the ancient elves.”

  “You’ve spoken with Auric?”

  “Aye. I bore him grim tidings, and he prevailed on me to stay with them the night, but I cannot tarry longer. Grave events are even now unfolding in the world of men, and we must enlist the aid of all the long-forgotten elves, or we are doomed.”

  Tesyn blinked. “
All the long-forgotten elves?”

  Corin nodded. “A mighty city’s worth, dispersed and hiding for the day some willing leader brings them back to reclaim what was stolen from them.”

  Something like a smile tugged at the corner of the scholar’s mouth. “This is your great quest?”

  “Aye. The same as yours.”

  Tesyn shook his head. “There is no great city. There are no elven hordes. But I believe there is a small community of them—perhaps a single one—surviving somewhere lost to the world of mortal men.”

  “I know that there are more. If you can find me even one, then he can lead me to the people I need.”

  Tesyn shook his head. “I am forever astonished by the things that you uncover. And you tell me Auric humored you in this—”

  Corin grimaced. He understood the laughter in the farmboy’s voice now. “He did. Enough to recommend that I join up with you despite the bad blood we share. This is important.”

  “I am not helping you,” the scholar said. “I have no intention of helping you. It is no hyperbole to say that more than once you’ve left my life a wretched shambles, Corin Hugh. You’ve robbed me of two fortunes, and now I’m left playing the fiddle in a village inn for some scraps of moldy bread.” He sucked a deep breath and shook his head fiercely. “I’d rather sacrifice all of Hurope than assist you in any way.”

  Corin gaped. The young scholar had always shown a healthy backbone, but Corin had hoped the promise of a grand adventure would be enough to win him over. He tried a different tack.

  “I’m not more anxious to endure a journey with a man who hates me so. You summoned guards against me in Jepta, and now you’ve tried to kill me! But I will set those things aside because Auric asked it of me. He tasked me with protecting you upon your voyage, and—”

  “Did he?” Tesyn interrupted. He tapped his chin with an index finger.

  “Aye. He said I needed your wisdom and you needed my cunning, and Fortune had clearly cast our lots on the same path for a reason. He bade me watch over you, and assured me you would aid me in kind.”