The Whispers of War [Wells End Chronicles Book 2]

by Robert Beers

  “You failed, you mean,” Stroughten said accusingly. “I wanted to take the time to pack a morsel or two, but no, you said the bloody Plague was hot on our heels. The only Plague I saw was them bleedin’ crabs. Should've packed a bit anyway...” He trailed off into a self-contained mutter.

  Neither Wuest nor Hodder commented on Stroughten's outburst. The condition of their stomachs made the truth of his statement patently clear. Stroughten continued to mutter, but he took the bread and cheese offered him, regardless.

  For a while the only sound in the tunnel was that of Wuest, Hodder, and Stroughten eating. When Thaylli saw they had nothing to wash the meal down, she offered them one of her water bags.

  Hodder held out the deflated bag toward Thaylli, ignoring the look given him by the wolf, “Thanks, miss. You've saved me life, you have. An’ that goes for Wuest and Stroughten too.”

  Thaylli smiled, “That's quite all right. Where I come from, people share what they have.”

  “Must not be from Grisham, then,” Stroughten mumbled around a mouthful of bread and cheese. He sounded considerably mollified over his earlier state.

  “No,” Thaylli answered, thoughts of her family jumping to the fore, “I'm not from Grisham. I'm going home.”

  “And where would home be, miss?” Hodder licked the last of the crumbs off his fingers.

  “Access, it's a small mining village halfway up the southwestern side of Cloudhook.” She hugged herself, “I'm really starting to miss it.”

  “I know what you mean,” Wuest said, while focusing his gaze on the opposite tunnel wall. “I'm leaving Grisham, most likely forever. I have to go in order to stay alive, yet already I am homesick.”

  The wolf stood, looked at Thaylli, and growled softly.

  Wuest, Hodder, and Stroughten leaned forward to look at the wolf.

  “Was that something? Sounded like your wolf said something, I'm sure of it.” Hodder scratched his scalp with a forefinger.

  Thaylli looked down at the wolf and smiled. “Oh, she said something, all right. But I don't speak wolf like Adam or Milward do, so I can't tell you what it was. From the look of her, I'm pretty sure it was about getting up and going, and that's what we're going to do now. I hope you get to where you're going safely.”

  “...she leaving?” Stroughten turned to each of his friends. “Did she say she was leaving?”

  Hodder nodded. “Sounded like it to me.”

  “But she can't ... I mean, it ain't fair. No tellin’ how far this bloody tunnel goes ... could be days afore we see the end. We'll starve!”

  “Ease off Leum,” Wuest said quietly. “She's a free citizen, and has a right to choose where she wants to go and when. Neither the Duke nor we have a say in that. Besides,” he smiled grimly, “which of us is going to tell her furry friend she can't go?”

  Stroughten stood. With his long legs and arms, to Thaylli it looked like an oversized marionette being pulled into position. “Well, I for one am glad we was able to drop by for a visit.” He tipped an imaginary hat in her direction, “Pleased to have met you Miss. Stroughten's the name. Me friends call me Leum.”

  “Wuest here, Avin to these two.”

  Hodder looked down at his toes and mumbled, “Hodder, just plain Hodder, like me face. Sorry iffn I caused any offense, miss. It's just that I'm scared pissless.”

  Thaylli finished shouldering her pack, “I'm Thaylli, and as far as I know it's only a few hours hike to the tunnel's end, so you've no danger of starving. But I suppose...” she paused, “I suppose I could let you come along with us, that is,” she held up a hand as Wuest and Hodder surged to their feet next to Stroughten, “if you keep your distance. I don't mean to be rude gentlemen, but you do stink something awful.”

  Hodder pointed. “What about your wolf?”

  The wolf looked over her shoulder and sniffed, as if dismissing the trio out of hand, and then began padding off into the tunnel.

  Thaylli smiled. “I think she'll be ok.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ellona stood in the doorway to Jonas’ bedroom, hugging herself. The Dwarf healer had been working on her son for a week solid without sleep or food. For the first few days he'd insisted on having everyone out of the house while he worked, but now at least he would let her watch, for a while. The healer seemed to have a sense about him. He could tell when she was becoming tired, and then he would send her back to Nicoll's for rest and food. She had been standing there for almost an hour now.

  “So, woman,” Zasloff sifted a pinch of pungent smelling herbs into a small clear flask, “Still suspicious of my work, eh?”

  “No, not any longer,” Ellona admitted. “He seems to be doing better.”

  Zasloff poured water into the flask, filling it halfway. He shook it a couple of times and then examined the result. “Yes, he is.”

  “Is he warmer?”

  The Dwarf bowed his head and sighed gustily. For a moment, Ellona thought she'd overstepped again, and then he stood and faced her. “Feel him and see,” He moved aside and gestured at the bed.

  Ellona reached out, but then drew her hand back. What if Jonas was still cold? What if Zasloff was mistaken and all of this was just a trick of the disease?

  “Go ahead, woman, the lad won't bite,” The Dwarf's voice sounded tired, but amused.

  Her hand trembled as she reached out again, slowly. She paused, just above the boy's forehead, and then with a silent prayer, set her fingers, and then her palm against Jonas’ skin. It was warm.

  * * * *

  Adam and Ethan watched as the image of Ellona embracing Jonas faded from the mirror Adam held.

  Ethan stood there, unspeaking, for nearly a full minute. When he did move, it was to wipe a tear from his eye, “Thank you, Adam. You can't know how much that meant to me, but you will, one day.”

  “I'm not sure what you mean,” Adam said, setting the mirror back onto his desk.

  “Wait until your child is born ... you will,” Ethan nodded to Adam and left the room. It was the office Captain Bilardi had given him upon his promotion from Lieutenant to Captain. Adam had moved in a cot and a trunk for his things the evening of Thaylli's departure. Bilardi had so far said nothing, but he also had been absent from the pub so it was possible he still did not know.

  Adam looked at the door after it closed behind Ethan. I'm sure I will, he thought.

  He turned back to the desk and positioned the mirror to where it faced the way he was standing. A tendril of the power flashed into the silvery surface and turned it to a grey, shifting mist. “Show me my sister,” Adam commanded. “Show me Charity.”

  As before, the mists of the scry roiled, but no image of Charity, or her body appeared. Milward had confessed to having the same trouble in locating her. Adam ended the scry and slapped his hand onto the desktop in frustration. What was blocking his ability to find his sister?

  The next morning Ethan sat down across from him in the mess hall. Adam looked up with a spoonful of porridge halfway to his mouth, “Ethan, what are you doing in here? This is officer country.”

  Ethan smiled and picked up a wedge of Adam's toast, then balanced a kipper and a slice of tomato on it. “I like their manners better than those of the noncoms. Besides, no one's complained yet.”

  “Oh,” Adam finished the spoonful of porridge, “Have you seen Bilardi this morning?”

  “No, not that I didn't try, McKenit says he has explicit orders not to let anyone past his desk, not even the Duke himself.”

  “I see.” Adam wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

  Ethan shook his head, “I'm not sure you do. The Captain was more than a little spooked at your show outside the tunnel with the wolves and that thing, whatever it was.”

  “I had no choice. I had to use my powers or we'd all be dead.”

  “And I, for one, thank you for it. But I don't have the throne of Grisham waiting for me, and I don't have to worry about the Emperor taking it from me, do I, your Excellency?”


  “Don't call me that!” Adam's heated whisper was confined to their area of the table.

  Ethan smiled around another bite of toast and kipper, “Why not? You carry the whole package with you. You'd have to be pretty ignorant not to see it, and Bilardi is anything but ignorant.”

  Adam stared at Ethan for a moment and then bowed his head, “Oh deity, what do I do now?”

  Ethan said nothing for a while, but his expression said volumes while he chewed. After swallowing he picked up his tankard and sipped. “What did that Wizard you traveled with do? How did he live his life?”

  Adam waved away an orderly with a pitcher in his hand. “Milward? Why, pretty much what he wanted to do, I mean, who was going to tell him different?”

  “There's your answer.”

  Adam mouthed a repetition of what he just said, the words tell him different clearly on his lips. He looked Ethan in the eye and shook his head in refusal, “But I don't want to live like that. Everyone lets him do what he wants because they're afraid of him. I don't want people to fear me I want them to like me.”

  “And you think if you don't make them fear you, they'll be hanging around, acting like your friend. Well, let me enlighten you, people who hang around you because they want something from you, are not really friends, but sycophants,” Ethan said, sipping again.

  Adam nodded, slightly.

  “Lad, I've been in Grisham long enough to see that type of life won't be found here,” Ethan said, around another mouthful. “You've already befriended the few folk real enough to take you as you are. Bilardi?” he paused, “I'm still deciding on him.”

  “What if he wants me to use my powers on the southern army? I can't commit mass murder. I won't do it!” Adam's expression hardened.

  “One,” Ethan held up a finger, “it wouldn't be mass murder, they attacked us, remember? Two,” he held up a second finger next to it, “you're right. You couldn't, and you wouldn't. That type of slaughter isn't in you. I heard about your duel with Lieutenant Mundy. You gave a man who would have knifed you in the back every chance to come out of it alive. A man who would do that wouldn't slaughter thousands whose only crime is obeying orders.”

  “So, what do I do?”

  “Well,” Ethan leaned back in his chair and picked at a bit of food in his teeth, “you could come along with me. Seeing Jonas and Ellona convinced me. I'm resigning my post and going home.” He straightened in his seat, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “This city is safe, in spite of the hoard camped out there,” He pointed behind Adam. “It no longer needs you and it certainly no longer needs me.”

  “What are you going to do? March into Bilardi's office, slap your stripes onto his desk and leave? What if he won't let you?”

  Ethan smiled, “I was kind of hoping you'd go in with me. Even if you wouldn't turn him into a toad, the implication is still there. It might make him a bit more agreeable.”

  Adam spooned up another bite of porridge. “That's true,” he mused, “it might.”

  “You bloody hell will not!” Bilardi bolted up out of his chair and slammed both fists onto his desk hard enough to rock it. “This city is under siege! The only trade routes we have are those to the north through the bay. Wycliff's cut off, and so are all the land routes to the Trading States. I can't believe what I'm hearing!” He turned away and began pacing back and forth behind the desk.

  “See?” Ethan remarked, “I told you he'd take it well.”

  Bilardi spun around and pointed a finger at Ethan, “I would have expected better of you, Swaledale. You, at least, have a military background. You know the importance of keeping an oath.”

  “I do. I also know what it feels like to be conscripted. There was no oath given, by the way.” Ethan's mouth twitched as he matched stares with Bilardi.

  “The hell it wasn't!”

  Adam coughed, drawing Bilardi's outraged eyes toward him.

  “He didn't?” The Captain's feeling of rightness began to crumble.

  “If I remember, Captain, all you did was say, he's a Sergeant and leave it at that,” Adam shrugged.

  “I did?” Bilardi switched his gaze to Ethan.

  “Aye, Cap'n. That's th’ way I heard it.” McKenit's drawl came through the half-open door.

  Bilardi shot a brief glare in the direction of the old Corporal, and then looked back at Ethan, “I did?”

  “Actually, what you said was, ‘Very well Ethan, consider yourself a Sergeant.’ That's verbatim.”

  Bilardi looked at Ethan for a while, saying nothing, and he turned and threw his hands ceilingward. “Auugghh, Alright! You can go,” He said, as he turned back to them once more, “But he stays. He, at least, took an oath, and signed his commission paper.”

  Adam looked at Ethan. “That's right, I did.”

  “What are you smiling about?” Bilardi placed his hands on his hips as he scowled at Ethan.

  “Oh, nothing,” Ethan replied. “I was just trying to imagine what you'd look like as a toad.”

  Bilardi's face remained blank for several seconds, and then realization dawned. “You wouldn't,” he said, turning to face Adam. “You couldn't.” The color in his complexion drained away.

  “I'm not sure,” Adam mused. “It might be interesting to try.”

  The Captain's face, already pale went ashen, but to his credit he did not back down. “Then, do your worst. My first duty is to Grisham and her defense.”

  “Oh, let the lad go, Captain,” Ethan pleaded. “It's due to him the Southern Army's elfonts aren't battering your gates down. And, if you recall, it's also due to him you aren't resting comfortably inside the belly of that beast we encountered a few days ago. What kind of gift can you give a man to whom you owe your life, a number of times over, I might add, hmm?”

  Bilardi snorted and turned away from them, facing the wall behind his desk.

  “Captain?” Ethan pressed his point, but Bilardi's shoulders stiffened.

  He's struggling, Adam thought, I can feel it. Another thought ran through his mind, that of using a shaping to ease Bilardi over into allowing his release. If it worked, the Captain would even believe it was his idea. He rejected that idea out of hand. The man wasn't his enemy, he was a friend, of sorts. Besides, the thought of doing that made him feel somewhat dirty, as if he'd just peeked in on something he shouldn't have.

  As the thought was passing through Adam's mind, Bilardi's shoulders slumped. He turned back to face them and waved a hand in dismissal. “Go on then, get out of here, both of you. Take Thaylli and go to your homes and families. I suppose I do owe each of you that, at least.”

  Adam winced inwardly, remembering his earlier promise to Bilardi.

  Ethan bowed at the waist. “I take my leave of you, Your Grace. It has been an honor to fight at your side and to shed my poor blood in your service.”

  Adam goggled at Ethan. “That sounded ... that's an old saying, isn't it?”

  Bilardi's expression appeared set in stone. “Yes, it's old. You said it letter perfect, ex-Sergeant Ethan. Not many know the old courtesies these days.” A small smile played across his face, “Well, letter perfect except for one thing, Your Grace was exchanged for Your Excellency.”

  “That title is reserved for the Emperor, Your Grace.”

  “Why are you calling him that?” Adam suddenly felt like he was outside looking in.

  “You should ask him, Your Excellency,” Ethan replied, ducking his head in a bow.

  “I asked you not to call me that!” This time Adam did not whisper.

  “Summat th’ matter m'lord?” Corporal McKenit cracked open the office door.

  Bilardi walked between Ethan and Adam and took hold of the door. “Nothing is wrong at all, Corporal. Go about your business.”

  “Aye, Cap'n.”

  Bilardi shut the door. When he turned back to face Adam and Ethan his smile looked self-conscious, “I've spent a lot of time thinking about what happened at the end of that tunnel. Magik is a belief of the uneducated, an element
in fairytales and bedtime stories, or so I used to believe. I don't mind telling you, seeing what I did shook me to the core.”

  “You stood and fought. That says something.” Ethan remarked.

  “I suppose so. Still, the question remains, what do I tell my father? I have to admit something, Adam.” He chuckled, sourly, “It is damn hard not to call you by your title.”

  “I am not the Emperor,” Adam said flatly.

  “The pit, you're not,” Bilardi retorted.

  Adam opened his mouth to arguer further, but Ethan broke in on top of him, “I think we can agree on a technicality; Adam will not truly be Emperor until he takes possession of his throne, agreed? Until then he is nothing more than what he appears to be.”

  Adam nodded.

  Bilardi muttered under his breath, “He appears to be the next Emperor.”

  Ethan had to place a hand on Adam's shoulder to forestall further argument. “You were saying, Your Grace?”

  “Why are you using that title? He's no more the Duke than I am the Emperor.” Adam's tone held a note of exasperation.

  “If I were to echo Ethan's thoughts, Adam, my reply to that would be, exactly. Just as you have a destiny, so do I,” Bilardi shrugged. “As I was saying, what I saw back at the end of that tunnel shook me to the core. It revealed more to me about myself than even the trauma of my father's near assassination. That's why I spent so much time closeted here in my office. My father fears you, Adam. He fears the leadership he sees in you, and if he knew the truth he would hesitate not an instant in ordering your death, in spite of what I told you back in that tunnel. I actually toyed with those thoughts myself. Rejected them out of hand, of course. But I did toy with them”

  “What?”

  “That was before I came to know you, before I ... grew up,” he added, ruefully. “You did trample on my ego a bit when we sparred.

  “No matter, that is far into the past now. I even told my father as much when we argued about you. Did you know there is a rumor that the next Emperor is roaming Grisham's streets?”