Wildling

by Curtis, Greg

  Chapter Forty Eight.

  “You!”

  Dorn was asleep when the man screamed at him and at first he didn't want to get up. Not even when he realised that the man was angry with him. It was night and it was cold and he was sheltering under his blanket. But then something hit him, something he didn't understand, and he was wide awake. He was in pain too. A lot of pain. Whatever had struck him was like fire and ice at the same time. It was lightning as well. But above all else it was pain.

  He howled in pain as he burst out from under his blanket only to discover that the man who had hurt him was no man at all. He was a shadow in the shape of a man, though much larger. Much more dangerous.

  Dorn roared in anger and made to leap at the shadowy figure and tear him apart, but he couldn't. For some reason his back legs didn't seem to be working properly.

  Others had woken too and they charged the shadow man. But to no avail. He simply gestured and something hit them. Something so powerful that it sent them flying in all directions. And when they hit the ground they hit hard. Very hard. Some of them didn't move after that and Dorn didn't want to either. He was too sore. The shadow man just laughed at them and called them pitiful.

  Dorn shifted quickly back into his human form, knowing that whatever was wrong with his back legs would be healed. Which he needed to be if he was to kill this man. And then he pulled his longbow to him as well. He'd slept with it strapped to his back every night. Just in case.

  The man laughed at him. A sound of pure malice. But also Dorn suspected, bitterness. And then he proved it as he cursed him.

  “Three hundred of my priests! You just left three hundred of my priests doubting! Doubting me!” The man screamed the last at him, his voice filled with thunder. And Dorn knew immediately who he was claiming to be. But he also knew it was a lie, and he released an arrow at him. It burnt up in the air before it reached the dark figure, but the fact that it did told Dorn the truth. A god wouldn't have to destroy an arrow. He could not be harmed by it.

  “You're no god! You're not Dica!” His legs were working again he noticed, and to celebrate he loosed another arrow at the man. It too burnt up but that was no worry. “You're just another pathetic priest.”

  “I am a god!” The man screamed his impossible claim to the heavens and then struck at him with another blast of whatever the black lightning was that had hurt him the first time. Dorn threw himself to the side just in time. It singed his foot and hurt like a demon, but it didn't kill him. More proof that the man wasn't a god. A god wouldn't have missed.

  “I am as close to a god as anything you'll ever see! And you've annoyed me!”

  But he was lying. To Dorn, to the others and perhaps even to himself. He was trying to scare them. And the only reason he would want to scare them was if he didn't have the strength to kill them. The strength he pretended. If he was desperate. And if he was scared.

  “Not if Dica catches you.” And that was the truth. Dorn knew it. He finally understood the entire battle. He understood it all. He'd got it slightly wrong before. It wasn't the two gods that had betrayed the other eleven. It was their two high priests who had betrayed all thirteen of them.

  “Imagine that, Dica's own high priest a traitor to him! And you know better than anybody else what he's going to do to you.”

  Of course he'd said too much. Dorn knew that as the next blast of force hit him and sent him flying into the night. It hit everyone else as well and sent them flying too. But all of them were shifters; they could take a hit. In mid flight Dorn shifted back into his four legged shape. It was tougher, and being a cat Dorn knew how to land on his feet. And even as he changed he knew the high priest's weakness. It was always the same as his strength – fear.

  “He'll never know.”

  And what was that if not a confession Dorn thought. An admission that he was no god. He hoped his friends understood that just as he did.

  “He already knows.” Dorn shifted back to his human form to use his most powerful weapon against him. His words. “And he's very angry.”

  “Liar!”

  The high priest screamed at him once more, his voice filled with rage – and fear. Dorn realised that he was going to strike him again. No doubt with something even worse than before. He had no time. But he had his words.

  “Ask him – he's behind you.” The high priest instantly forgot his fury as he remembered his fear, and he probably spun faster than he'd ever spun before in his life. It was obvious he was terrified of who he might see. Which gave Dorn all the time he needed to pick up his longbow again which had flown with him, notch an arrow and loose it. This time it hit. Not as he would have wanted as most of it burnt up as it neared the high priest. But some of it got through to smash into the priest's dark robes and caused him to jump. The priest let out a small shriek. He quickly contained it, but still that shriek told Dorn everything he needed to know. He was afraid.

  “You're already weaker. Your strength is being taken from you by Dica. And there are too many of us for you to fight. You should never have come here.”

  The high priest shrieked again, this time in anger, and launched another blast of black lightning at him. But even as he did three more arrows made it through his fiery shield to smash into his body and upset his aim. Dorn was easily able to dodge the lightning even in his slower human form.

  “Of course you had to come here. You, more than anyone. Because you knew that when the lake refilled Dica would be returned. And he would do to you things so terrible that even you can't imagine.” It was a guess. Dorn had no idea what the God of Fear would do to his traitorous high priest. And he had no idea what the high priest could imagine. But it didn't matter. The high priest knew.

  “You know of course that he will do them to you. Soon. “You can't stop his return any more.” Dorn let a small mocking laugh of his own loose hoping that it would add to the high priest's fear.

  It did. This time the man cut loose with a wordless scream of rage and fear and another explosion of force that sent everyone flying once more. His hope had probably been to save his strength and frighten them away. But his hope was gone. Now he had to kill them all. He knew that. But he was getting weaker and Dorn picked himself up quite quickly, his bow still in his hands.

  “You're just an old man now.” Dorn loosed another arrow at him and watched as it too hit. The high priest was tiring and was having trouble maintaining his magic. But that was as much because of his fear as his exhaustion. He was breathing heavily too. Dorn's ears could hear his laboured breaths even through the shadow he wore as protection.

  “Three thousand years of decrepitude. Withering from within despite all your efforts. Mortal and terrified of death. Because you know what Dica will do to you when your soul becomes his.” He smiled at him and loosed another arrow. “That’ll be very soon now.”

  “And all those priests you just killed. They were Dica's priests. But you had to kill them. Because they doubted Dica and in doing so they doubted you. All they had to do was look at the ruined faces of their brothers to know that Dica would not protect them. That you could not. They showed their weakness, and it weakened you.”

  “So you killed them. But without them you couldn't control the soldiers. And without the soldiers and their war machines, you can't stop the lake from refilling.” Dorn loosed another arrow at him and saw many more flying as the other shifters took aim. They all hit, doing little damage except to the high priest's confidence.

  “Let's be honest, you are doomed as no man ever before.”

  “You can't run. You can't hide. You can't fight. And you can't even prevent Dica's return. Your god, whom you betrayed.”

  “Or were you planning on digging the holes with your bare hands?” Dorn loosed another arrow at him, and watched as it too caught fire and was mostly ash by the time it hit him. But the high priest's strength was failing. He could see that as he looked at him. As he could see the aspect of darkness fading so that he was no longer a figure shrouded in
blackness. As the darkness swirled and thinned he was slowly revealing himself to be the old man he was. A very old man. But a dangerous one.

  “Worthless child! You think to play with me?” He might be old but his anger was fresh.

  The high priest raised his arms above his head, spoke some words that Dorn didn't understand, and conjured a mastiff. A war dog made of shadow. And with another gesture he sent it against him.

  Dorn had to shift again, but he was still fast enough to do it and dodge the shadow mastiff as it charged through where he'd been standing. The others were fast too and a score of arrows sailed into its hide. What happened then Dorn didn't know. The beast was shadow. Neither here nor not. And yet the arrows sank into its flesh and stayed there somehow. Not that they particularly bothered the beast. It just turned, claws scrambling for purchase on the loose rock, and came charging him again, arrows still firmly lodged.

  “Now who's weak!” The high priest laughed at him, a thin sound more like that of a senile old woman than a man of power. But he had to pretend to have the strength he didn't. Because if he didn't, if he acknowledged his weakness, he was lost.

  “You are!” Dorn dodged the beast again and laid his claws into its side as it passed. They caught on something. Not flesh and not shadow. Something perhaps in between. He only wished he could have hurled those two words at the high priest out loud instead of just in his thoughts. But he still hadn't mastered the art of speaking as a panther. And he didn't know how to harm the creature either. Not when neither arrows nor claws seemed to bother it particularly.

  Then he had an idea. Light. He couldn't kill this thing obviously. He wasn't even sure if it was alive. But they were high up, camped on the side of a mountain, or at least a steep hill in between two mountains and that made it cold, especially at night. So naturally the fires were still burning bright. They made sure to keep them that way all through the night because of the chill. And the one thing he knew was that shadows hid from the light.

  The next time the mastiff charged him he dodged again, but not so far. And though it managed to graze him a little with its teeth because of that, he also managed to grab it, latching on with his paws, claws digging as far as he could force them into its hindquarters.

  It wasn't shadow and it wasn't flesh, but whatever it was there was enough substance in it for his claws to hold on to. And enough for him to then spin on his haunches as fast as he could and toss the creature back into the fire.

  That hurt. The shadow mastiff screamed with fury as the flames touched it, and bits of it began turning to smoke in the bright yellow flame. Naturally it leapt out of the fire but it was too late. The creature was weakened and had slowed. It was the work of a heartbeat or two at most for Dorn to be on it again and throw it back in. And even while he was destroying the beast the others were keeping the high priest busy with their arrows.

  After that it struggled and screamed but there was nothing it could do. Every time it tried to get out he pushed it back in, and soon it stopped trying. Soon there was nothing left of it. And Dorn knew as it gave up whatever sort of life it had that he had another weapon to use against its master.

  He shifted back and picked up a burning brand from the fire.

  “Fire arrows! Burn him!” He gave the command even as he hurled the burning brand at the high priest and watched him step back hurriedly. There was a reason that Dicans used fire to destroy their enemies. That they considered it such a terrible weapon. They were afraid of it. And it was the same reason why the high priest had come at night. They were afraid of the dark so it too became their weapon.

  Alyssia didn't disappoint and instantly he saw a burning arrow streak through the air to smash into the priest. An arrow that wasn't completely destroyed by his shield. An arrow that burnt him.

  The high priest screamed with fear and fury and another blast of force smashed into them all sending them flying. But as he picked himself up again Dorn knew he was winning. The cloak of darkness that had shrouded the old man was almost completely gone and what was left behind was an ancient man with wrinkles on top of wrinkles. Thin, completely bald and lacking in anything that even approached colour. The priest was as pale as a corpse. A living corpse.

  “Looking a little old there aren't you?”

  Dorn mocked him knowing it would undermine his strength further. The priest needed for people to be afraid of him. That was more than just his strength; it was his life blood.

  Suddenly Dorn had to throw himself aside as another shaft of black lightning came his way. This time it was his knee that was hit and it hurt, but a quick shift back to his panther form before shifting back to his human one fixed that quickly enough. And when he did it was to see two more arrows had hit the high priest and flames were rising from the cloak as the ancient man tried frantically to pat down the fire.

  “Weak too!”

  This time the ancient priest didn't even try to send a lightning blast his way in response. He was too busy patting down the flames on his burning cloak. For some reason they didn't seem to be going out.

  “So it wasn't Talos and Dica who destroyed the world. It was you and the high priest for Talos. You betrayed your gods. You somehow arranged for the walls of the lake to rupture knowing that when they did the connection between the gods and the world would fail. And you imagined that with them gone all the power of faith that was theirs would come to you.” The crime was so obvious to him for some reason. Almost as if he'd been there.

  “But it didn't. You thought you would become gods yourselves. But you didn't. You destroyed a world for nothing!”

  The high priest snarled at him like a frightened dog but said nothing as he continued patting down the last of the flames desperately. He shouldn't have bothered. The moment he did so Alyssia put two more arrows in his cloak and it caught fire once more. Then he had to start patting them down all over again.

  “So you've eeked out an existence ever since. Drawing on what little power you can from your link with the distant gods. Stealing what you can from their worshippers. And trying desperately to hold on to your power and your life by any means you could. Knowing what would happen to you when you died.”

  “And then your worst nightmares all came true. The lake started refilling and you knew the gods would return. Your gods would return. You had to stop that at all costs.”

  “So first you tried to take the wastes. It was a mistake. Better than you have tried and failed. And in your failure you lost power. People doubted Dica and they doubted you.”

  “But it was worse for your only ally. Talos' high priest saw his soldiers lose. They were defeated and the god of war does not tolerate defeat. His followers lost faith in Talos and the high priest lost what little strength he had left. Does he still live?” Dorn didn't wait for the high priest to answer him. In the end it didn't matter.

  “And you – you saw your priests rediscover fear. They lost their faith, and with that you were weakened badly as well. And to add to your woes the other gods' followers were growing again. They were becoming stronger as you failed.”

  “And all the time the lake was refilling. Dica's return was coming closer. You had to do anything you could to stop that.”

  “So you took every priest you had left. Conscripted every soldier you could. And then you marched straight up the middle of the wastes heading to the lake. There was never any thought of conquest. None of strengthening the faith in Dica. It was always and ever only about you. About surviving.”

  “Even then you had problems. You lost soldiers along the way. To the creatures of the wastes. To the goblins in the mountains. And the snap dragons in the central wastes. Then the soldiers got sick. They couldn't breathe properly. The soldiers were scared and you needed all of your priests to control them. To keep them marching.”

  “Then I used the white wrath against your army and thousands were sent screaming in terror. You had them killed, not because they were dangerous to the other soldiers, but because their fear was dangero
us to you. It robbed you of more strength.”

  “The ragwort was worse because it meant that the soldiers not only couldn't move while they were sick, but they rebelled against your priests. Priests who were themselves sick. The soldiers lost more faith and the priests too.”

  “And then I tore the faces off fifty or a hundred of your priests while they slept in the camp and your priests lost the last of their faith. They were shown to be weak in front of the soldiers. Vulnerable. That was the end. They asked questions. They doubted.”

  “I'm guessing that the soldiers wanted to go home. And you couldn't let them. Your priests were failing too. Doubting you and failing to command the soldiers. So you resorted to your only remaining weapon, murder. When some tried to leave you had them killed. Desperate to keep the rest in line. But that was a mistake. Instead of cowing them the soldiers resisted. They weren't afraid of you any more. So some fought back and others fought for you and fairly soon the entire army was in tatters.”

  “Soon after that you had no priests. They were unarmed after all. Trying to control soldiers when they didn't even hold a weapon in their hands. The soldiers killed them quickly and you were left alone. You had no army either. And those soldiers that survived I'm guessing, wanted you dead.”

  “So you fled. You had to run. And you had to stop the lake from filling. So you came here in desperation. Hoping that you had enough strength to send us fleeing in fear. To at least stop us from patching the leaks. To buy yourself a little time.”

  “But you didn't even have that much strength left. - And now you don't have any time either. Not any more.”

  Dorn added the last because he suddenly noticed a familiar silver glow surrounding him and he knew what that meant. He knew they had been joined. Finally. Which was why Alyssia had stopped loosing her arrows into the high priest. As had the others. He wondered how long they'd been there. He hadn't noticed them as he'd been concentrating on prosecuting the high priest. Charging him with his crimes. Breaking his will.