A Taste of Wine (Wine of the Gods Book 7)

by Pam Uphoff

  "Oh, no. Of course not."

  "So, why are they leaving?"

  "Perhaps because they've chased their tails for two whole years and found nothing?" Andrai sniffed. "I'd have recalled them long ago. Although I suppose one must allow enough time for travel in this primitive place."

  Damien nodded. "Well. It's been fun. And I had thought up some really great . . . "

  Andrai looked down her nose. "Oh? Perhaps something along the lines of living on a horse ranch with seven pregnant pinto mares?"

  Damien winced and shut up.

  Chapter Fou rteen

  Fall 1374, local

  Six months later Usse's superiors were asking him about the Recovery Team.

  "They've lost them? Their ship was diverted to follow a Western exploration vessel, and they've lost contact. Ha. Sank them, with any luck." Damien commented over the recording. He copied it over to their quarterly report collection.

  Hopefully the boat wouldn't arrive for another few weeks, so they could report the birth of the next heir to the crown, or possibly the birth of a princess. Princess Amilie had taken over a year to get pregnant, so a daughter might actually be significant locally. Damien sighed. Nobody on Earth would actually give a damn. "Good night, Andrai." He stretched and headed home – the small apartment that had once been Vani's. He stared from bed to closet, and his suit. He always dressed up for a date with Nicole. Not that he had an actual date, more of a standing invitation. And he really shouldn't . . . He reached for the suit.

  The boat sailed into the dock the next morning, with orders to determine if the One Worlders were inciting a war between Auralia and Verona.

  Damien felt naked, heading for Fascia without backup. Mind you, the prospect of missing the Karista winter balanced things out. He drove a heavier wagon, loaded with goods for the gold fields, with a train of similar wagons, about half of them owned by the merchant who'd hired him. He'd bought two heavier horses for his wheel pair, but clung stubbornly to his pintos for the lead horses. Solstice and a four year old gelding. Skippy was bay and white, and looked much like his sire.

  He offloaded cargo in a boom town not far from the Verona border, and signed on with a merchant heading over the border, and then down to Fascia.

  The Auralian raiders hit them twenty miles north of the border.

  Their timing was impeccable. The horses were all tired, climbing out of a muddy river valley to solid ground, the sun low enough in the west to be in their eyes as they turned, but the light good enough for archery.

  The heavy arrow hit him from the right. Damien rolled with the force of the blow, falling off the wagon, trying to not land on the arrow. It had passed completely through his right bicep and penetrated his side. His right arm was pinned. He threw himself behind a scrawny tree, and reached for the arrow to regain some mobility. He ripped the barbed warhead out of his side. It hadn't penetrated deep enough to hook the barbs. He broke the shaft and pulled it though his arm. And finally had time to view the battlefield. Most of the drivers were down, the lead pair of horses were down, blocking all forward progress. As he watched, the last of the guards fell, and the raiders swarmed the few people who hadn't fled the wagons. He cursed under his breath, knowing he didn't have his bow, barely had cover to hide. He homed in on another voice. The driver from the wagon ahead of his, trying to not whimper, an arrow deep in his lower right chest.

  "My son." His voice was a barely aspirated whisper. "Get my son out of here."

  Damien grabbed the man, pulled him uphill and into minimal cover. He headed back down, found two more wounded and evacced them before the raiders turned their attention from securing the wagons to hunting down the wounded. They didn't look very hard; they had the wagons under way in moments.

  He pulled out his hip flask and distributed swallows, before he turned to quick and brutal field medicine. The barbed arrows couldn't be drawn, once they'd gone deep. Fortunately for the short time he had, most of the arrows had gone all the way through, already.

  "My son! They're Auralians!"

  Damien winced. The Auralians preferred their male slaves castrated. Anyone captured . . . Down slope he could hear the wagons moving off.

  "We have to get after them. As soon as they camp they'll start cutting. They like them all healed up – or dead – before they get them to the markets."

  Damien yanked the man down. "They will drive the horses all night – to get across the border. We'll go down and check for other wounded, see who's dead. Then we'll follow them."

  "Bodies. Old Gods!" The man collapsed slowly as worse possibilities sank in.

  Anther driver snarled at Damien. "Traveler! Where's your damned God of the Roads, now?"

  Damien staggered back to the road. "What? Just call out 'God of the Roads, help us!' and he'll just . . . "

  Harry stepped out of nowhere.

  Except he was straight instead of stooped. With bronze armor, a spear in his right hand. He looked like a Monarch from prehistoric Ethiopia, or perhaps a Roman . . .

  "They got our wagons, captives. Can you help us?"

  "They have left the road, I cannot see them." The god was frowning uphill.

  Damien turned to the others. "Who knows the lay of the land? They'll be trying to cross into Auralia."

  "There's a deep ford upstream of the official crossing. It'll be passable, as little rain as we've had lately." The father gulped nervously.

  "Do you know that ford?" Damien had no idea how this god thing worked, but if the god of roads could only see roads . . .

  "I know fords. Take my hand, all of you." He looked aside suddenly. "You have another survivor."

  Two men jumped to find the man, unconscious, scalp bleeding. Then they all linked hands. And were standing knee deep in water. The god was gone.

  Damien took a quick look around. "There. We need to be on the Veronian side. Jump them from the trees." Am I insane? The four of us? These people barely know how to fight, and I have nothing but a big knife.

  "Will, will the god come back?"

  "I have no idea . . . although perhaps calling him again, when we start the battle might be a good idea."

  The unconscious man got a few drips of Havwee temple water, and they left him back from the road, well out of sight. The nearly full moon rose, and the twilight glow on the horizon faded.

  The rattle and clink of hooves and iron shod wheels on stones warned them. The horses were nearly stumbling as they half slid down the steep bank. The raiders were in a hurry.

  Damien leaped for the bed of the first wagon. His knife sliced across the neck of the guard, then plunged deep into the side of the driver. He pulled it out and pulled the brake lever before jumping down and running for the next wagon. A yell rang out. "Bandits!"

  Damien nearly laughed. "Solstice! Whoa!" Halfway up the line of wagons, one stopped suddenly.

  Then light flooded up, illuminating the wagons, and the few attackers.

  The light centered on a young man blond and handsome. He was laughing. "Is this all? Four of you? Pathetic!"

  Damien blocked a sword with his knife, kicked, then punched the crumbling soldier in the throat.

  A wavering voice from one of the drivers, as he scrambled away from men drawing their swords. "God of the Roads! Help!" And then louder, "God of War!"

  The golden youth swore. Harry stepped out of nowhere, his spear spun, the end clipped a man's chin and he went down, the spear kept moving, the razor-edged point slashed across a neck, and the soldiers were backing away. The Auralians running up from the back of the wagon train suddenly found themselves facing a rearing horse. Black as the night and bearing an armored rider, sword upraised.

  "Pax! Turned bandit, now have you? Murdering and enslaving children? You've fallen rather far from your pedestal, haven't you?" Harry stepped up to face the youth, and the Golden Boy backed away, his light fading.

  Damien ran to help the other god. Not that he needed much help, the arrows seemed to be bouncing off of him. Damien sw
armed onto a wagon and cut the throat of the archer, there, turned and kicked the driver, crushing his throat. He jumped down and headed down the line. Most of the Auralians had abandoned the wagons and headed for the fight around the horseman. He was surrounded . . . and disappeared. Reappeared, charging in from the side. Damien passed Solstice. "Good Boy, whoa." He closed in on the last two wagons, where captives struggled with guards. Damien lost his knife in the first one, snapped the neck of the next, took the man's sword and buried it in the head of another. Then he helped the captives dispatch the last one. He left them cutting themselves loose, grabbed another sword and jogged forward. He dropped Solstice's traces, slashed the driving reins short and mounted.

  The fighting was over, apart from three gods facing off.

  "This is the God of Peace?" Damien eyed the man.

  "Hard to believe isn't it." The God of War circled around to the right, Damien sent Solstice left.

  "Why do you concern yourselves with these tinkers?" The young man backed, keeping his eyes on the two gods. He threw out a hand, fire bounced off the air a foot from Damien's nose.

  What am I doing in this kind of fight? Giving the gods someone else to protect?

  Solstice snorted, as if amused.

  Or the smart--and possibly magic—horse could do it.

  "Why are you helping the Auralians? Not to mention the Oners. Neither has a good track record for keeping the peace by being a good neighbor."

  Pax spared him a glare. "There will not be true peace until all people are under a single government. There's no point in fighting wars, if the underlying problem is not addressed. Hurrying along the inevitable will save lives in the long run."

  "What? Save lives by helping cross dimension invasions?"

  "The One World will show Earth the advantages of Unity. Then there will be Peace."

  "They can't get enough people and equipment through a gate to capture an entire World." Damien put as much contempt into his voice as he could manage.

  "They will have at least three gates."

  The God of War shook his head. "You are a delusional idiot."

  Pax turned toward him, and Damien lunged, Solstice moving with him. The point of the sword hit the god below the shoulder blade . . . and the god was gone.

  "Damn, I thought you had him." The God of War lowered his own sword, and suddenly faded.

  Damien looked around, but Harry was already gone.

  They camped right there. Watered the horses, looted and buried the Auralians. In the morning they back tracked to the site of the first attack. They collected their dead, and returned to the nearest town, for proper burials. The Merchant was dead. Letters were dispatched to his home in Cadent.

  Damien, wrote down the conversation with Pax, thought about it and decided his job was done. He sold the wagon and the wheel team to a man in the town. Gave Skippy to the drover and his boy, as they had no other way to get home, and were now disinclined to visit Auralia. He bought a saddle and bridle for Solstice, and they headed for home as well.

  Chapter Fif teen

  1 Shaban 1373, year of the prophets

  "Well, Usse. I didn't think we'd be seeing you again."

  Usse considered the Director, who had been two tiers lower when he'd last seen him, over thirty years ago. "Indeed? I, on the other hand, was confident that you would retrieve me before the comet struck." He had, of course, admitted to the seduction and his near death at the hands of the witch. Loss of the seal hadn't come into it. Nor the wine or his regrown parts.

  "One Ygti reports that you seem to have become more sympathetic toward the Natives. Perhaps we left you there too long."

  Usse contemplated that for a moment. "I found the position of Post Head to be very . . . enlightening. Lots of time for contemplation. As for Target Forty-two . . . in retrospect, I believe we handled it badly from the start."

  Ixti Withione scowled. He was a pretty typical Budapest Clan bureaucrat. Bunch of high achievers. Aggressive, dangerous and careful to be sure everyone knew it.

  "I now realize that the only Oner who truly saw the potential of that world was so junior everyone ignored him. He wanted us to ally with the native magic users. He saw a valuable resource, where everyone else saw a powerful threat."

  "They are a threat. Even you, a Withione with a priest's training fell to them. This vulnerability of the One to that native magic has us concerned. Not to mention the circumstances of the Team's disappearance. They should have terminated their captive when the ship was diverted."

  Usse was unfazed by that. "I am aware that the One is not always well served by those beneath. Those five were nothing if not tenacious. I can easily see them refusing to give up. Especially when the orders were relayed though a native ship's captain. The native magician may have won out in the end, or it could simply have been the primitive vessel sinking.

  "The Native magic is very strong, as you've noted. They are a very different type of opponent than we are prepared to deal with. My recommendation is to leave them strictly alone."

  The Director hesitated, no doubt thinking back on Usse's experiences. And returning to his pre-scripted notes. "Well. Umm. You have served the Directorate well for ninety years, and the Temple for ten years before that. Perhaps this would be a good point in your life to return to the priesthood."

  Usse blinked at him in astonishment. "Why would I want to return to that inbred pack of backstabbing brown-nosed hypocrites?"

  "Err." The Director looked taken aback. "The authorities, in reviewing the incident, are willing to allow you to return. I thought you had a calling."

  "I do. They don't. And they will never 'allow' me anything ever again. I assume then that you are not intending to return me to Target Forty-two?"

  "We're calling it Auralia these days. No, we have an excellent Major Action planned, before the comet impact. After the dust has settled, we will reconsider the need for a presence on World. If there is anything left to concern ourselves with. Are you thinking to retire?" Ixti didn't look like he liked that idea at all.

  "Now, there's an interesting idea. Retire from the World and contemplate the One's plan for the rest of my life." Usse snorted. "Perhaps I'll just start with my accrued leave."

  "Ah, well, you are owed considerable leave and of course your pay has always been banked and invested."

  Usse nodded. They would be happier, thinking he was still on their leash. "No doubt I'll hear from you when my leave is up."

  The Director tapped on his comp and a vertical line of consternation rose between his brows. "Between weekend compensation, holidays and expat vacation, it seems I'll be seeing you in about ten years."

  Usse nodded. "That should be long enough."

  A young woman entered, set a packet in front of the Director and left without speaking.

  The Director glanced at the contents, sighed and extended them to Usse. "Your ID and bank cards. Where will you go?"

  "Someplace warm." To decide if I'm going to clean up the Temple. Before I get into politics. Or after.

  Chapter Six teen

  Late Summer 1375, local

  "Your timing was perfect. This will be the last contact until after the Comet. Your report is intriguing, and implies that the One World has three gate mechanisms. Hard to believe they could dedicate that much power to gate travel."

  Damien didn't even have the energy to blink. He'd pushed the pace for weeks, wanting his report to catch the boat. "I included a warning that they might be planning on capturing the Earth's gate. They'll need to beef up their security. I just wonder why the Empire of the One is doing this right now."

  Max snorted. "The comet. That's the only reason the Amma would throw his resources into an attack that will only benefit the Oners. They must be guaranteeing his safety."

  Damien nodded. "Makes sense. I wonder what part the god has in it?"

  "Don't call that Native Con Artist a god! And they've recalled Usse. We're going to have to watch carefully for the replacement. I doubt the
y'll be so obliging as to use the same premises." Aunt Andrai sniffed. "Just as well. It's not right to be so close to them."

  "It's six months until the comet is due. I suspect they won't replace him at all." Damien leaned back and closed his eyes.

  "Not a lot going on around here." Max had stress notes under his casual tone. "Big todo when Duchess Nicole married this decrepit old Duke from South Coast. Quick worker, rumor has it they are expecting a baby."

  Damien kept his eyes closed. Controlled his breathing and reactions. Sensible. I could never marry her. I knew that, she knew that. I always knew this would happen, had to eventually.

  Max kept on talking, not making him reply. "Princess Amilie hasn't taken again, the gossip is she's practically barren."

  Andrai shook her head. "Sensible, rather. These birth control potions are pretty effective, you know."

  I know. But not perfect. And I can't ask her.

  "Princesses are broodmares. They aren't suppose to use things like that."

  Damien shifted the topic. "So, we just sit and wait for the comet, now. Is the government still negotiating with the diplomats the Westerners sent to Asia? What can they do in four months?"

  Andrai's lips tightened in disapproval. "I don't think they intend to do anything. I think they want everyone to die. If either of you want to leave, the ship will sail with the tide, about daybreak tomorrow."

  Damien winced. Nicole is . . . no longer my concern. But I'd never see Code and Vani again. All the kids, including "mine". The horses. Smart, magical . . . Never know if they survived. Never know if Nicole and her children survived. He shook his head. "I'll stay."

  "I'm here. Of course." Max eyed their superior officer. "Captain?"

  She snorted. "Leave you two layabouts on your own? Not a chance."

  ***

  "Have you heard?" Kola was all bright eyed and excited. "There's a New God. The God of Just Deserts. He's almost seven foot tall, with these incredibly blue eyes, and he has four Hell Hounds that deal out just what people deserve."