Wrath of Lions

by David Dalglish

  “They will fight for us, Patrick, for even as wolves they can understand my desire, for it is one they are very good at fulfilling. I want them to hunt…to kill.”

  The wolf-men howled as one, and a moment later they were rumbling into the forest on all fours, hand over foot, heading south. The god had it right; they seemed ungainly with their new, larger forms, but the speed at which they moved was uncanny. Patrick could see their muscular shoulders working as they galloped through the trees. In a matter of minutes, he and his deity were alone in the clearing once more.

  “How much time do you think they’ll give us?” he asked.

  “Two days, perhaps three,” Ashhur replied. “They are few compared to what approaches, but we have surprise on our side. If there is one thing I am certain of, it is that Karak will not expect this.”

  Frowning, Patrick said, “Karak is akin to you in many ways. Are you certain?”

  Ashhur grinned. “Yes. No matter what occurred in Haven, my brother will still assume I’m playing by the rules.”

  It was an ominous statement, and one Patrick didn’t press any further. Without consciously thinking about it, his mind drifted to Bardiya. His friend would hate the idea of Ashhur creating wolf-men to fight his battles for him. Bardiya believed in the sanctity of all life, not just humanity’s. He would find it unsavory that the wolves of the forest were being sacrificed in such a way.

  A memory of the barn and the destroyed bodies again entered his mind. He turned to Ashhur, threw back his oversized shoulders, and stared up into the deity’s eyes.

  “My Grace,” he said. “I apologize, but I must ride south. I’ll catch up with you at the Wooden Bridge, and if not there, in Mordeina.”

  Ashhur stared at him, and Patrick knew the god already understood his intentions.

  “It will do no good,” he told him.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, my Grace. If you don’t have to play by the rules any longer, why should Bardiya?” Patrick grinned. “And besides, if anyone can convince someone to break a few silly rules, it’s me. I am his oldest friend, after all.”

  CHAPTER

  14

  Manse DuTaureau was an expansive structure. Its main hall stretched for nearly a quarter mile, and at its center, crossroads split off into four separate wings. There were fifty rooms—bedrooms, common rooms, dining halls, meeting rooms, vast closets, and two libraries—all built by Ashhur himself at the request of his second child, Isabel. The east and west wings were where the family DuTaureau kept their residence, their chambers small yet stylishly furnished. The main entrance and the atrium, where the family had once spent quiet evenings, were on the southern end. That space was now used to greet the many citizens who came to pay their respects to King Benjamin, the first ruler of Paradise. The northern wing ended in what had once been a dining hall and had now been transformed into the throne room—Paradise’s seat of human power.

  Ahaesarus marched through the atrium, following fast on the heels of Erstwell Karn, the man Isabel had placed in charge of repairing the hangars lining the township’s eastern road in preparation for what was to come. Crops were being pushed hard, the people using the magics Ashhur had taught them to bring corn, grain, carrots, turnips, and other assorted vegetables to seed early and often. After only a few weeks, the barns were already a third full, and the last thing anyone needed was for the structures to topple, destroying food that would be necessary for survival once Karak fell upon the area.

  Erstwell had caught up with Ahaesarus outside the manse while the Warden was heading inside for a conference with King Benjamin. The man had pled with Ahaesarus to see to a rule-breaker who was stowed away inside, accused of sneaking in to visit the still-imprisoned Geris Felhorn.

  “She’s down here,” Erstwell said.

  They progressed down the main hall, passing two privies and the southern kitchen. Daylight filtered in through the narrow gaps between rooms, making the brilliant reds stitched into the carpets pop. The man finally stopped when they reached the central junction. He pushed open a door to his left, the wooden hinges creaking as they swiveled inward.

  The room had been used for meetings; he could tell as much by the large table of polished mahogany in the center surrounded by eight chairs, and the stand showcasing a loosely rendered map of Paradise. The walls were stone, sanded down and lacquered with a yellowish gloss. It was an ugly color, one that made Ahaesarus’s legs twitch. He noticed he was not alone in that sentiment, as the girl who sat at the table seemed to be vibrating her own legs fast enough to take flight. She stared up at him with frightened blue eyes. Her hair, a satiny shade of strawberry blonde, flowed over the roughspun, brown smock she wore. She was young and quite beautiful, even with her simple attire.

  Erstwell spat on the floor. “There she is,” he said. “Penelope Travers. Little harlot has a lot of nerve.”

  The girl, Penelope, cast her eyes downward, ogling her own hands as they fiddled on the table.

  “Leave us,” Ahaesarus said.

  “What? Me?” said Erstwell.

  “Yes, you. I wish to speak with the girl alone.”

  “Hold on here. When I found her I was told—”

  Ahaesarus glared at him, stilling his tongue.

  “Yes, Master Warden,” the man said, his cheeks turning red as he backed out of the room and eased the door shut.

  Taking a deep breath, Ahaesarus moved around the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down beside Penelope. He placed his hands on his legs, sitting up straight as an arrow as he faced her. Her eyes flicked shyly in his direction.

  “So, Penelope is it?” he asked.

  The girl nodded.

  “You have been accused by Erstwell Karn of disobeying the King’s decree and placing all of Mordeina in danger, not to mention yourself, by secretly holding court with young Felhorn. What say you to these charges?” It felt so strange for him to accuse the girl of something of which he himself was guilty, and to say things like King’s decree.

  Penelope shrugged. “What is there to say?” she said. She spoke timidly, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t even know there were king’s laws. I always thought we were supposed to obey Ashhur.”

  “King Benjamin is Ashhur’s voice when he is absent,” Ahaesarus replied. “His decrees, and those passed down by his council, are spoken in our god’s name.”

  She looked at him, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was breaking any rules. I was walking by the old well when I heard him crying.”

  “So you decided to enter the well and give Geris Felhorn food?”

  “I…well…am I in trouble?”

  Be gentle. You would wish for the same. “No, Penelope. The only punishment you will be given is the knowledge that you disobeyed the will of your god.”

  Those words seemed to make her relax. “Yes, I gave him food. I had just finished husking the corn for hanging when I heard him.”

  “You do realize he attempted to murder our king, do you not? His mind is broken, and he is dangerous.”

  “He seemed fine to me,” she said with a shrug. “Dirty and hungry and sad, but he didn’t try to hurt me.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” he said, though in truth he had noticed a change in Geris over the three months since his first visit to the old well. Ahaesarus had taken to visiting the boy almost obsessively over that time, and he did appear to be much better. However, he was Master Warden. He could not allow common citizens to take unnecessary risks. He turned his head and pulled back his golden hair, revealing the thin scar that traced his ear from lobe to tip. “If you get too close, bad things can happen.”

  “He didn’t do that to me,” she replied. “I’ve hugged him every time I’ve gone down there.”

  “Wait…you have seen him more than once?”

  She nodded and blushed. “Yes, Master Warden. I have been going down there for…it has to be three weeks now. I even told Little Jon that I’d take over his duties, and I have.”
Her blush grew deeper. “I think Geris likes me.”

  Ahaesarus sat back, shocked. Jon Appleton had been assigned by Isabel to be Geris’s keeper. He had not said anything about this young thing relieving him. Then again, Jon was a devotee of spiced wine, both the making and consuming of it. It was possible he might have seen this as an opportunity to devote more time to both practices.

  He slipped one leg over the other, leaned back, and rubbed his chin.

  “How old are you, child?” he asked.

  “Fifteen,” Penelope replied.

  “Do you have children?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “Father says it’s past time I found a mate, and he wants me to wed Lancel Pitts. But Lancel’s stupid and ugly, and he treats me mean.”

  “You find the would-be kingslayer more to your liking?” Penelope didn’t confirm his query, but she didn’t deny it. “I see.”

  “Master Warden, please hear me. Geris is better now. It took a few days for him to calm himself, but now he likes speaking with me, and his touch is gentle. He’s told me stories of what it was like growing up in Safeway, in the shadow of our god’s Sanctuary. About the lordship too, and the dreams that drove him mad. It was a madness that my…Master Warden, may I speak freely?”

  “Of course, child.”

  “He says speaking with me helped cure him of that madness. Just like your visits help him.”

  Ahaesarus had no reply as he gulped down his shame. It seemed like something out of a story one of the Wardens might tell to pass the time around late night campfires.

  “Now that his mind is free,” Penelope continued, “he wishes for his body to be. If you allow it, he will go far, far away from here and never come back.”

  “Why has he not told me the same?” he asked.

  “He’s afraid of you, Master Warden. He loves you, but he fears you. You put him in the well.”

  Ahaesarus cringed, guilt building up inside him. The boy had certainly seemed like the old Geris as of late, and Penelope sounded so full of youthful optimism. Ahaesarus knew he should punish her, forbidding her from leaving her family’s tent for the span of a week, but how could he punish her? He then felt his insides go soft at the prospect of Geris’s progress being real. Penelope sensed it, and she placed her velvety fingers over his, looking him directly in the eye and doing everything she could to show her earnestness. Yes, she is captivated by him, he thought. Just as all of Paradise would have been had he not lost his mind.

  He rapped his fingers on the table.

  “Penelope,” he said, “I feel the need to think on this. I bid you to return to your family, but do not tell others of what we’ve discussed. I will return to you when I have an answer.”

  “An answer to what, sir?”

  He chuckled. “That, among other things, is what I must discern.”

  Erstwell entered the room when called and escorted Penelope from the manse. He did not look very happy about it. Ahaesarus lingered in the room for a moment, running his fingers through his hair, and then forced himself to move. He had his meeting with young King Benjamin to think of now, and he had the distinct feeling he was going to be distracted the whole while.

  He found the king sitting on his throne in the old dining hall. It was the very same room where Geris had attempted to take the boy’s life, the stain on the stone floor covered over by a patterned rug. A family of nine was kneeling before his throne, cobbled together of wicker and grayhorn ivory, the three young daughters handing him baskets of fruit and a horn of bread. Howard Baedan, the master steward of Mordeina, stood behind them, hands clasped behind his back.

  Isabel DuTaureau was there as always, sitting in a chair to the right of the king, her frosty stare devoid of emotion as she watched the proceedings. Her husband, Richard, the matriarch’s near twin, hovered by her shoulder, his fingers lingering on the nape of her neck. The man’s eyes kept flicking toward King Benjamin, and there seemed to be something spiteful about his stare. Ahaesarus felt a moment of disgust. If there were one individual in all of Paradise that he didn’t care for, it was Richard DuTaureau, who was just as icy as his wife, but without her occasional charms and gift for leadership. It didn’t help that Richard had once tried to murder his own son before he was born. If any god other than Ashhur had lorded over the land…

  The matriarch of House DuTaureau glanced up, saw him standing there, and then leaned forward and whispered into the ear of the young king. Benjamin offered a pointed nod at Baedan, who quickly said, “Our king has other duties to attend to, my good people. Let us leave him to it.” The family said their good-byes and headed for the exit. They were all laughs and smiles, their teeth pearly white and their simple clothing clean. They passed within a few feet of Ahaesarus, and he could smell rosemary and sage coming off them, as well as a hint of saffron. Each member of the family, from a child of four to the father, who was in his mid-thirties, met his gaze, their innocent smiles widening. It both warmed Ahaesarus’s heart and troubled him.

  Once the doors to the makeshift throne room were closed, King Benjamin rose from his throne.

  “Master Warden Ahaesarus,” he said, “it is splendid that you have chosen to greet us this fine day.”

  “My presence was requested, my liege,” Ahaesarus replied, squinting in confusion.

  “Of course it was,” the king said, giving a questioning glance to Isabel, who was as still as stone, her hands folded over her lap. She nodded to the boy king, and Ben Maryll shifted uncomfortably before returning to his throne. He tugged at the scarf wrapped around his neck, revealing, for the briefest of moments, the jagged white bolt of scar tissue that stretched across his throat. Though Ahaesarus, Daniel Nefram, and a team of Mordeina’s greatest healers had succeeded in mending the wound Geris had given the boy, they had barely saved his life. The new king would forever be marked by that fateful night.

  Ahaesarus approached the raised platform and knelt before it, but he did not incline his head. That would have been akin to worship, and the only being in all of Dezrel who deserved worship was Ashhur.

  It had been a long while since Ahaesarus had seen King Benjamin, for most of his time was spent working on the wall. He took a few moments to examine the boy, and it was an odd sight. Ben was clean, his skin well powdered. Rouge had been applied to his cheeks, which gave him a more childlike appearance than he should have possessed at fifteen years of age. His clothing was draped velvet, both smooth and crushed, in varying shades of maroon, emerald, and lavender, the dominant colors of House DuTaureau. His hair was chopped short and shining with oil, and a plain wooden crown rested evenly atop his head. Ben was growing pudgy around the middle and starting to develop a second and perhaps even third chin.

  In most every way, this Benjamin Maryll resembled the child that the traitor Jacob Eveningstar had tutored during the majority of the lordship. Although Judarius had whipped the boy into shape, Ben seemed to be reverting to his old ways. He had a lax demeanor, very unlike the hardened youth his fellow Warden had helped mold. It was amazing how much could change in less than a year’s time. Ahaesarus wondered if Isabel was spoiling her pet king into complacency or if this was simply Ben’s natural state.

  “So, Master Warden,” said the young king while he rubbed his hands over his throne’s ivory armrests, “tell me: How does the wall progress?”

  Ahaesarus cleared his throat. “It progresses well, my liege. There is but a small section yet to complete, and we still have a sally port to cut, but all being equal, I would say our progress is back on schedule.”

  “You have led your workers well, Master Warden,” said Isabel in her remote, emotionless tone. “I see a change has come over you, and one for the better. It was only a few weeks past when you could not reach those who would be your wards.” A smile finally came across her lips, and Ahaesarus had to admit it made her even more beautiful. “Now they work themselves day and night, and success is within our reach.”

  “They work not for me,
but themselves,” he retorted. “They are beginning to understand the gravity of what will befall them.”

  “And you had much to do with that. The progress you have made is admirable.”

  Having four talented spellcasters has helped.

  “My Liege and Lady Isabel, it is the people of Mordeina whom you should be lavishing with praise, not me,” Ahaesarus said. “I am merely a teacher, a Warden. If what I have taught has taken seed, if the men and women I care for have come to realize the preciousness of the gift of existence that has been bestowed on them, then it is they who deserve to be rewarded.”

  “You truly mean that, don’t you?” sneered Richard DuTaureau, who still hovered behind his wife.

  “I do,” Ahaesarus replied. He glowered at the petty little man and took the opportunity to rise from his kneel. Ahaesarus towered over everyone in the room, and Richard fell back a step, his expression uncertain, and then retreated. The man’s reaction made Ahaesarus want to laugh aloud, especially when he heard Richard’s footfalls disappear into the alcove to the rear of the hall. It might have been petty, but he so did not like that man.

  “I agree with you, though the time for honoring my people shall come later,” said Isabel, seemingly unconscious of her husband’s departure. She leaned forward in her seat, her fathomless green eyes narrowing in on him. She had a sudden aura of seriousness that made him shudder. “Right now, I only wish to ask you a few questions.”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Do you love the people you call wards?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “Why? Is it true love, or a debt you feel you owe to Ashhur? Tell me, Master Warden. I will know if you lie.”

  He felt confused, unsure. This was not the line of questioning he’d expected.

  “It began as duty, my lady,” he said. “For many years, I have watched humanity grow, and I have guided them with all my ability. From the moment Ashhur’s first thousand were created, their tiny clay vessels shaping themselves into fully formed youths, I have stood by their side, nurturing, attending, entertaining, educating. I showed them how to farm, fish, speak; I taught them their letters, their numbers, how to raise their children. My brothers showed them how to build with stone and wood, how to sew using a porcupine quill for a needle. We told stories borrowed from our dead world, creating parables that would instill a sense of responsibility in the young race, and we taught them practical magics, drawing on the enchantments Celestia had buried deep within the soil to help crops grow quickly, paving the way for Paradise to prosper.