Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars

by Pam Uphoff

  Jet managed his own shield, just a low arc to keep him from being gutted or hamstrung. The horse seemed well able to soften it at need, as he kicked, an instinctive expertise, unique, in Wolf's experience. I don't think Nil's ever seen that trick. I'll never hear the last of it once he has.

  He spotted a group of western soldiers, backed into a defensive circle and Jet charged into the Auralians surrounding them. They slaughtered a path through and the soldiers retreated to the Gemstone wagons. He dropped his reins and waved his left hand at the Auralians. A simple push tumbled a dozen, then he charged the other side. Both Genero and the Army had mounted troops, but they were out numbered by the Auralians, and couldn't hold the Auralians away from the wagons. The Auralians had probably started with a century of mounted and a century of foot soldiers. The mounted troops were fully engaged, leaving the foot soldiers free to attack the dozen wagon drivers. The western soldiers he'd helped looked like troopers. Lost their horses in the first charge. With the wagons at their backs they could hold their own. The wagons were clumped, tightly packed two or three across, with several horses down. Not going anywhere until the battle is over.

  He wheeled back and tried a few fireballs. Showy, but they'd only kill one man at a time. Slower than sword work. What else did he have? A long pike skidded off the low shield, popped up and hit him between ribs and hip. He huffed in pain, but it failed to penetrate his chain mail. He dropped his sword into the bubble, and grabbed the haft of the pike as Jet wheeled and struck out at the wielder. A single charge disabused him of the pike's usefulness as a lance. He left it in the Auralian, drew his sword and cut his way back to the wagons.

  Where were the commanders of foot and mounted? He threw a series of fireballs toward what looked like the best organized section of foot soldiers, then charged back into the mess. The soldiers were getting organized, trying to injure Jet. He Pushed again, knocking away a trio with locked shields and pikes, and this time followed to ensure they never rejoined the battle. As more soldiers surged toward them, he Traveled to the edge of the battle, and charged back in before they had time to turn to face him.

  He and the horse were coated with blood; sticky and stinking in the heat, running down his face with the sweat. They killed or injured a dozen men before they slowed and were surrounded again. He Traveled to the far side and charged, broke up an attack on the wagons before returning to the south side to slaughter again.

  The Auralian foot soldiers broke then, fleeing. The bulk retained enough discipline to retreat in some sort of order, and the Auld Wulf turned his attention to the mounted battle. It was nearly over, the overwhelmed wagon guards and what had probably been a small military patrol had taken out more than their own number of Auralians, but lost too many of their own. Three fireballs took out the Auralian commander and the two men flanking him, then Jet rammed a smaller horse and sent him careening into another, and The Auld Wulf's backswing took out a third rider. The situation was too chaotic for much organized action, but someone was yelling in arbic, trying to turn for a charge toward the newcomer, and he could hear Genero snapping out orders, trying to keep his people acting in concert. He drove Jet through the milling mass, aimed at the arbic voice. Push staggered a pair of horses on his right while he blocked a blow from the far side and lunged out to stab the man through the throat. Jet reared and lashed out at a rider, sending him to the ground in a bloody heap. The arbic speaker charged forward, two flankers on either side, no lances, but their swords out and braced. He Traveled behind them, Jet spun and leaped, taking the smaller horse down as his weight hit it. The Auld Wulf sliced everything that got close enough, and suddenly the only coordinated movement was the mounted troops moving away. He let them go, focusing on the small number of more determined troops, but there was someone in command who could count, and the rest of the Auralians retreated in order.

  Only then did he see the Mage Compass on the cliff.

  Peace was absent, but these were some of the men who had been with him. Testing me. This time without interference.

  He jerked his attention back closer at the sound of hooves, but it was Genero. He pulled out a flask and handed it over. "Magical healing. Take a sip, pass it around." He returned his attention to the cliff top.

  Despite their wearing Auralian civilian garb, their stance made them look foreign. Foreign to Auralia, that was. The eight men had variously colored hair, and deep tans. Not Earthers . . . they look just like Exiles. He listened mentally. They were shielded, but the highest frequencies looked a bit soft . . .

  The Auld Wulf could feel it all coming to an end, and twisted it with long experience. He managed to hold on long enough to throw a straightforward stun spell, but he kept the frequency high and threw a lot of power into it. The group staggered, two men slumped . . .

  And he reached for the familiar and landed in the middle of his vineyard. The cold winter air of the north was a refreshing shock.

  "What a bloody mess. Literally." He and the horse walked stiffly around to the hot springs behind the winery to clean up.

  The Tavern was full when the Auld Wulf walked down for dinner. A hush fell when he walked in.

  "Ah, relax. It was the Auralians playing games, killing people and risking war in the name of peace." He shrugged. "We sent them packing. I'll ride down to Karista and talk to Rufi about it. His One Worlders may have been behind it."

  "You got jerked right out of here," Harry pointed out. "In full God Mode."

  "Jin Genero. An untrained wizard leading a prayer is powerful stuff. Nil, you ought to keep an eye on his kids." He snorted a bit to see that even with a packed house no one had taken his favorite seat. "So, what's for dinner?" He sat, noting the little sandy-brown haired girl in the corner. Neither parent, grandmother or great-grandmother had a clue she'd slipped in. If she was using this much magic consciously at twelve, she was going to be scary at twenty. Or fifty. Pity the poor sod that crossed her. Envy the man she loved, if love like her parents' ever came her way.

  "So, Nil. You were saying something about practicing magical battles? I'll start as soon as I get back."

  Nil looked thoughtful but didn't say anything. As good a way as telling him there were dangerous magicians around as any.

  He thought about using the corridor, or borrowing a less noticeable horse than Jet for the ride, but the poor fellow never seemed to get out except for battles. A road trip would be good for him. At the Fort, Bail assured him that the last he'd heard Rufi was in Karista, so he set off down the Old Road. He could remember it when it was new. He could remember before it was built, before men had crossed the ocean to this continent. And a bit before that. A thousand years? Two? Surely he wasn't that old. His older memories got odd. Full of holes, and what was left didn't make any sense.

  He knew he'd had brain damage. Knew that as a telepath and telempath he'd absorbed a lot from the people around him, just as his little students had absorbed a bit of sword fighting knowledge. And the collective subconscious did whatever it wished with him. He didn't have the choice to not respond to something like yesterday's prayer. He simply appeared there, and then he could choose sides, or even refuse to fight. "I really don't think this is what a god is." He told the horse. "I think I'm what everyone thinks a God of War should be, whether I like it or not. Whether it's even practical. The Lone Warrior, rather than The Army Soldier. Damn it. If I could just remember." I need to read those books again, reinforce knowledge that the collective subconscious lacks. Or maybe find a printing press and disseminate the knowledge so it reinforces what is left of my personal memories.

  He Traveled them a hundred miles each morning and afternoon—no point in letting the trip take too long. He slept out two nights, and wished he had the other two. One because of fleas, the other because of a bravo looking for trouble who he managed to not actually kill. Late on the fifth day he rode into Karista, and up to the Palace. General Rufi could be anywhere, but the main Palace building was the best place to start looking for him. The Aul
d Wulf inquired at the main gates, waited, and was escorted to the large mansion off to one side of the palace itself.

  "It's convenient." Rufi shrugged. "I can use the front door and a carriage to go out into the City like a proper gentleman, or slip out the back and be with father in minutes. What brings you here, this time?"

  "I expect you'll be getting a message, but I thought I'd best give you what information I can." He snorted. "Another Auralian incursion into the New Lands. An officer by the name of Jin Genero called on me. The Auralians were two hundred strong, in uniform with flag, a proper government force."

  "Damn. I assume you sent them packing?" Rufi paced. "I'd better warn all the little mining towns north of Farofo, move some troops . . . Damn it. The New Lands are so inhospitable, we've had four settlement attempts throw in the towel. And now with the news of the gold discoveries spreading we can't keep track of all the people living out there. We've got two government offices for registering mining claims, in an area about equal to the settled parts of the kingdom."

  The Auld Wulf waited patiently while he wound down and came to a halt, frowning.

  "And why did you feel it necessary to come here and tell me this, personally?"

  "You recall the people that watched your battle? They were observing, again. Eight mages, the same who were with Pax when you were attacked. I didn't see him, this time, but keep your eyes open. The God of Peace is dangerous, in his own way. He's the real thing, or at any rate, as much of a god as I am. Feh. The Golden Boy. He'll talk all about peace, but the only route to peace he can see means forcing people to do as he says. It generally involves a single government for everyone, everywhere, and apparently he's on Auralia's side. He won't stand and fight, but he can talk and persuade people. This is going to be serious trouble."

  "My spies have said something of this nature," Rufi sighed. "It's horribly hard to get people in there. I have been assuming it was just propaganda, possibly with a magic user of one sort or another for fancy shows."

  "May I see your spies' reports?"

  "Certainly."

  "I think we need to identify the other people with the Auralians. They acted like observers, not giving any orders. I'd like to see if they've been noticed around the court, if anyone knows where they are from."

  Rufi looked thoughtful. "The One World. The Earthers were right about the One World being here. My spies—you know Oscar and Bran better than I do, actually—have picked up some information, but they have to be cautious getting all the way inside the palace."

  The Auld Wulf spent a week there as the General's guest. Reading, talking, and of course sparring. Rufi was both well trained and naturally talented, and very experienced. A good time was had by all, even by the younger officers who had thought to put this big fellow in his place.

  "Peace is just such an insidious . . . he truly believes that the World must be united to have Peace. And any means is justifiable if it advances the cause." He looked at Rufi's officers, his brother the Crown Prince, and the King's advisers. "Don't expect either honor or truth. Don't expect fair dealings or negotiations. If it comes to war, I will assist you all I can." He looked at it honestly, bleakly. "I will try to kill him."

  They'd gotten Genero's report, and a report from the patrol that had been in the right place at the right time to join the battle. They'd shadowed the Auralians all the way to the Southern Divide, and then turned it over to the local troops, experts in that messy terrain. Maybe the sound defeat would knock some sense into their heads. Peace hadn't been seen again.

  The god bowed to the Crown Prince, and opting for a bit of showmanship, Traveled back to his room in Rufi's mansion. Packed and was saddled up and ready to go when Rufi returned.

  "Everyone was impressed with your exit. Selano came blasting in demanding to know what had happened."

  "Selano is pissed." Selano stumped into the barn. He stopped dead and stared at the huge black horse for a moment. "Honestly, I wish I could pin one of you down and study you thoroughly. I thought only wizards could Travel."

  "That's why we keep running away from you when we're in town, Selano. Pins sound painful. We figure you can't concentrate when you're in Ash, so you're safe to be around." He grabbed his mental barriers and wrestled them down enough to pull out the glittering construction of the complex spell. "This is Traveling. You must have Recognition of the two locations, and swap not just the content of the spaces, but the momentum, velocity and orientation of the spaces. I've known some witches who could travel. I suspect that both Justice and Never could do it on their own. Mages don't usually work with the Earth enough to be able to Recognize locations," he frowned. "Are you still working with Oscar and Bran? Try them, especially Oscar, out on the ocean. It could be interesting. Rufi, thank you for your hospitality, and I hope I am over-reacting."

  "So do I." The General stood and watched him go. When he ought to have been out of ear shot, he heard him address Selano. "He showed you a spell?"

  "Ye, yes, so to speak. And I got a good look at his brains, and they are all chewed up. I'm surprised he's on his feet and functioning. No wonder they all sound so odd."

  The Auld Wulf sighed. 'All chewed up' certainly described how his brains felt. He really ought to talk to Gisele. Some of the young witches had very strong talents, did they have enough of the genes to breed a god? What would they have to do to get over that final threshold? Could they find men, young wizards to meet them, and hopefully raise up new gods whose brains had not been chewed up and spat back into their heads?

  "Someday," he sighed. "Hopefully after I find out if it's a good idea."

  Chapter Sixty-two

  5 Jumada 1367 / Spring 1365 local

  Karista, Kingdom of the West, Target Forty-two

  Ajha thought that Holy Captain Cuffi looked like a very unhappy man.

  "You are certain? Absolutely certain?"

  "Yes," Cuffi squirmed. "That was the drunken sot that made wine in that Valley. In Ash." He darted a glance through the wrought iron fence to the training grounds of the King's Own.

  "But you said all the men were killed?"

  "Well, in the main village. A conqueror can't kill all the farmers, now can he? Not if he wants to eat the next year. And the old man who ran the Tavern wasn't a threat to anyone. The miller and that drunk lived outside the village. Oh, and the drooling idiot that herded the sheep. The butcher was an arrant coward. He hid the whole time down in his cold room. The Inquisitor General, that is, The Holy Mother, said the scent of blood hid him from the Goat." He squirmed. "Actually, I didn't see any evidence of anyone being killed, other than there were a lot of pregnant women and very few men."

  The old spy ran a fingernail over his teeth. "And now this 'drunk' visits General Negue. Thank you, Holy Captain, you've been very helpful."

  Cuffi hunched his shoulders and walked away. Usse had dragged him around to this street near General Negue's residence specifically to view this visitor. Ajha closed his eyes, opened them. From a hundred meters away, the tall man simply wasn't there to his inner senses. Only very powerful, very well trained people could manage that. There wasn't even the dull animal glow of a complete no-talent. There wasn't anything there at all. The training grounds of the King's Own were located next to a public thoroughfare, and it was common for people to stop and watch when the troops were practicing. General Rufi being out here himself had brought out more watchers than usual, and Ajha strolled around to get the best look he could of the 'drunk'. The man's swordplay was brilliant, so fast Ajha suspected he could hold his own with one of the One's Dueling Masters. Short grey hair and beard, too far away for him to gauge the man's age based on wrinkles and so forth. He strolled on, and met up with Usse partway back to the warehouse. "What now? We could probably get there fairly quickly."

  "Cuffi said the man lived out of the village, so it may take time to find him. Even with the diamond line for a cross check. But. Without the Action Team, you must only locate him, not act in any way aggressively. You wi
ll need assistance when you locate him.

  "This winter we will study the King's Own, and the Palace staff. We need to know how many magically inclined people are closely associated with the government." Usse led the way into the warehouse. "Hopefully after we've figured out this so-called God of War. After an Action Teams has eliminated him."

  Idre had over heard the last comment. "With pleasure. We can finally see what these people can do."

  "And those cute girls in the village will all be a bit older." Wink breathed.

  Ajha blushed, and Wink snickered.

  "I've drilled you three in fighting off hallucinations. Black Goat!" Usse snorted derisively, and passed over a picture. "I took this yesterday. Today, one of my assets identified this man as a possible powerful magic user. He's a bit over two meters tall, riding a huge black horse. See if you can trace him. Give me a second indication of his location."

  Idre and Egto hadn't seen the man, and studied the picture intently. The picture was clear, the man towered over General Rufi Negue, the king's oldest son and commander of the Armies. Ajha hadn't seen the horse. In the picture it was indeed huge and black standing behind the man; it dwarfed him. Man and beast were both obviously well muscled.

  "That's him. He must have been under a strong unnoticeable spell, down where we watched the Auralian ambush. A nice noticeable pair." Idre passed the picture back. "People will remember them."

  "He's in town now. I will attempt to warn you when he leaves."

  Two days later he left. They mounted the Action Team's horses and spent the next day passing in and out of the city gates chattering about that gorgeous big black horse and the rider damn near as big, until the guards at the northwest gate grinned and nodded agreement.

  "Old Gods! What a horse. The man dismounted and led the stallion under the arch.” They all looked up at the arch as a high piled hay wagon creaked through.

  Ajha nodded. "Yep. Incredible animal." They rode out once the hay wagon was clear, and trotted out for about ten miles before stopping for lunch. The stable boy had seen the black horse pass by.