Twixt Heaven And Hell

by Tristan Gregory

  “Kray, I know there are many in your lands worth hating. I’ve killed many, and I’ve heard the terrible stories of the simple folk who manage to escape. You, however, are a sorcerer. I’ve always considered you to be the ones worth hating. I will ask once more: Why did you betray your people?”

  For long moments the wizard watched as the sorcerer stared at the floor. He believed more and more with each passing moment that this man was telling the truth. There was confusion and anger roiling off the sorcerer like steam from a cook pot, and the longer Darius waited for a response, the worse it grew.

  All at once, however, the anger disappeared, and the visible tension that had Kray almost shaking eased. He looked up with sudden wonder in his face, and Darius saw something that nearly made him gasp.

  Kray was weeping.

  “No. I do remember now. I was very young, that is why I couldn’t before. I have not thought of it in years.” Kray’s voice showed none of the sadness in his eyes. Whatever the man had been through, it had made him hard as granite, in body and soul. Blinking away his tears, the sorcerer told his story.

  “I was found at the age of four. Soldiers and sorcerers roam the lands at all times of the year, but there are many farms and households for them to search. The larger boys are taken away to be warriors by the time they turn twelve. But anyone found to have the talent for magic is taken immediately.

  “Before now, I did not remember anything before I was taken. My first memories were of the slave pits, riding past them in the wagon that carried me to Pyre. That was almost a year after I was taken, and I already hated everyone around me. I never questioned the feeling. The sorcerer who’d found me was pleased. He thought I had the aggressiveness to be a wonderful magician for his masters.

  “My training, however, showed me to be a… disappointment to my teachers. I was weak. Whatever it is in a sorcerer that gives him strong magic, I had only a little of it. Far from being the favorite anymore, I was shunned. I would be for the rest of my life. My hatred had never left me, and now the insults and the fury drove me to plan things I knew would earn me eternal torment at the fingers of a Demon if I were found out.

  “I was never found out. I won the silver at seventeen, long after the age when most sorcerers do. I found out afterward that they had been ready to execute me if I turned eighteen without defeating my enemies on the arena sands.

  “I thought that becoming a true sorcerer would earn me some measure of acceptance. It only increased the vitriol with which my ‘peers’ treated me. I was given nicknames, called by those and any number of insults, called by any number of things but by my right name!”

  Kray’s voice became ever more heated as he spoke. Darius could see the man reliving his story, his eyes staring at and through the floor with a far-away look.

  “I, a sorcerer! Forced to endure such humiliation. My plans for revenge became ever more grand, included more people at every turn. I finally decided revenge against a few was not enough. I would surely be killed after, and that was not good enough. I had outsmarted the soldiers on the arena sands, and I would outsmart all the rest. I would betray them, and give my loyalty to the enemy.” He looked at Darius, drawn back to the present. “To Bastion”

  “You still haven’t told me what it was that caused all this,” Darius pointed out. Kray nodded, and continued.

  “I was four when they took me,” he repeated. “Very young, perhaps that is why I did not remember. Perhaps I did not want to. It has been so long now, and there have been so many outrages…

  “I remember my mother holding me, my father held at spear point. They knew they could not resist, and my mother handed me over to the sorcerer. It felt like being held by a nightmare, one from which I would never wake up. I started screaming. I had a dog, a young dog who’d been a puppy from the old guard hound my father kept. It growled at the soldiers when it heard me crying and screaming.

  “They killed it, drove a spear through its neck. It could not harm them. They killed it for pleasure, for punishment at the mere symbolic act of defiance that a growling puppy was capable of. At that moment, I knew everything about them. They were cowards. Bastards and cowards who would kill a thing that was weaker than themselves just to prove their own power.”

  Kray smiled a bittersweet, yet satisfied smile as he rediscovered his own past. “I remember now. That is the day I started to hate.” He looked at Darius again, and there was a peace in his eyes, behind the tears. “I found out later that they kill the families, as well. A sorcerer must have no loyalty but to the Warlord and to Pyre, it was said. It didn’t matter. My heart already overflowed with hatred, and even knowing this did not change anything. I had forgotten my family long before then.”

  He stopped there, returning his stare to the floor and looking somewhat drained from the retelling. Darius knew he had to say something. An enemy deserved no aid or comfort, but this man was an enemy no longer. With that realization, the words came to him.

  “I believe you,” he said. “Welcome to Bastion, Kray.”

  By the time Balkan and Robert arrived, Darius was sitting with Kray. The sorcerer was eating; Darius realized they had not given the man much food to go with his diet of herbs on the long trek to the city. Kray was demolishing two days’ worth of soldier’s rations – poor enough fare, but all Darius had close to hand.. Robert took one look at the pair and knew that something had changed drastically since he’d been sent off. Balkan merely looked at the two with a blank face. As a wizard who rarely left Bastion, he was not familiar enough with the Enemy to know them by the sight of their armor alone.

  Darius stood. “Balkan, I’d like you to meet Kray,” he began. This got Balkan’s attention – ‘Kray’ was not a name used in Bastion. “He is a recent acquaintance. We met in the Shambles, on a very exciting day.”

  Balkan confusedly mouthed ‘the Shambles,’ as he tried to figure out what Darius was hinting at.

  “Darius, why are you keeping an enemy soldier prisoner in your home?” Balkan asked. Darius admired his calm, but then his friend had not grasped the whole picture.

  With a smile, Darius corrected him. “Not a soldier, Balkan.”

  Several feelings shaped Balkan’s countenance in the next few moments. Confusion, disbelief – and finally, anger. Probing spells burst from the usually calm wizard and Kray was surprised to feel someone searching him with magic, but he wisely did nothing.

  Balkan withdrew his magic. Dragging Darius over to the doorway where they could speak with a modicum of privacy, he rounded on his friend.

  “Why have you brought a sorcerer into Bastion, Darius? Have you truly lost your mind?”

  Darius gently removed Balkan’s hand from his sleeve. He had forgotten that, for all Balkan’s age, his relative lack of experience on the battlefield meant that a sorcerer was still a dark, terrible thing to him. Far from simply being the counterpart to a wizard, a sorcerer was the next embodiment of evil below a true Demon, something to be feared and reviled.

  “He has joined us, Balkan,” Darius said gently. “He slew another sorcerer right in front of me – he saved my life. Then he killed many of his own soldiers, and surrendered. I am convinced as to his sincerity.”

  “Because he killed? Darius, sorcerers love to kill!”

  “Not just that, Balkan. I’ve talked to the man. I feel as if I’ve gotten to know him a little.” Darius quickly outlined Kray’s story to Balkan.

  The tall wizard’s face seemed permanently set in disbelief now. From Darius’s secrecy to this, the world had taken a bizarre turn for the otherwise steady man.

  “A puppy? This man betrays his own people, slaughters soldiers, and risks the wrath and torment of the Demons for a dead puppy? That’s ridiculous, Darius.”

  “Is it? Consider, Balkan, what life over there is like. This man cannot be the first weak sorcerer they’ve ever encountered. How many other men have had to endure this ridicule in the past? Yet none of them act. They are immured to it, it is all they know. So
mething from this man’s past taught him otherwise, pushed him past that point, and brought him to us. Perhaps a child’s memories of a puppy – what could be more innocent? – were just the thing needed to show him that barbarity is evil and worthy of destruction.”

  Balkan had lost most of his heat, but Darius saw that he still needed convincing. “To hear this man tell it with his own words, Balkan, is far different than hearing it from me. I believe him, Balkan. I truly do. Please, as a friend, trust my judgment.”

  “Darius, your judgment is legendary for its rashness.”

  “My intuition, then. Since when has that ever failed me? Failed Bastion?”

  Balkan nodded reluctantly. “That is a much better point. Very well, Darius. I will believe you, and believe him, but,” here he leaned close and dropped his voice yet lower. “I urge you to caution. The cost, if we are wrong, will be far to high.”

  “Have no fear, Balkan. I consider this man my own responsibility. No harm will come of him.”

  Darius breathed a sigh of relief. “It is good to have another wizard who knows of this. As you say, we must be cautious. We need to have this man guarded at all times, and guarded by wizards! I just don’t know where I can find men we can trust. If one of them panics and talks to Arric, who knows what will happen to this man?”

  Balkan was looking at Darius in consternation. “Nonsense, Darius. You know just where to find the men you can trust. You should, at least. For years now you’ve had wizards who have supported you in Council with nothing more than words, longing to do more but unable, because you always act alone. This is their chance. And yours.”

  Balkan, as usual, was right. Darius immediately thought of several wizards who had supported him reliably for many years, even before he had formed the Gryphons. “But how do I know which to trust for this?” he wondered aloud.

  Balkan answered. “More work for your vaunted intuition, Darius. If I am going to trust it, you had damn well better.”

  The abnormality of the situation had driven his friend to cursing. Darius hurried along. “Very well, I can think of a few. Before I… enlist them, however, we need a place to put him. He cannot stay here.” He looked at Balkan, who misinterpreted him.

  “No, Darius! I’ll not have him near my family!”

  Darius shushed him immediately. “I didn’t mean that! But do you know of anywhere else? I don’t know Bastion as well as you.”

  Robert, who – nervous at being alone near the sorcerer – had sidled up next to them during the conversation, offered a suggestion. “You can keep him in my house. No one is likely to find him there.”

  Both wizards looked at him. “You have a house, Robert?” asked Darius, puzzled. He’d spent the bulk of the last four years with this man and never known.

  “I think you just proved my point, sir. Yes, I have a house. I obtained it just before you picked me as lieutenant for the Gryphons.”

  It was a surprise, but a welcome one. The houses of active officers were left completely alone until they returned. Never entered, not even for dusting.

  Darius turned to Kray, who had sat docilely throughout the entire discussion. He was staring at them, but without any emotion at anything he might have overheard. He had made his play and his fate was now in the hands of others, and he seemed to know it.

  Darius quickly gave Balkan three names, with instructions to politely ask the wizards who belonged to them to meet him at Robert’s house. The sun was sinking towards the horizon like a child’s tired head into the pillow, and Balkan agreed despite wanting to get home to his family.

  Once Balkan had gone off on his errand, Robert and Darius found Kray some clothing. Neither man was of a size with the sorcerer, but a mix of clothes donated from each did well enough – and made the man look like any other soldier currently taking his rest in Bastion. They walked with him to Robert’s derelict dwelling, and nobody paid any attention to them along the way.

  Balkan had been quick about his work. Each of the three men Darius had requested showed up soon after they arrived at the house, and Darius brought them all inside at once. The men – all younger than himself – were three of Darius’s most reliable advocates, wizards who had similarly become dissatisfied with tradition and the snail’s pace of decision making in the Council. He spoke to them only rarely, but had always counted on their support before. If now were any different, than this venture would surely fail. Kray would be delivered to the Council and interrogated harshly – perhaps by an Angel, and though Darius believed the man to be sincere in his wish to become a ‘man of Bastion’ he had no illusions that in Kray’s past there would certainly be dark deeds.

  It said something about his reputation that not one of the wizards he’d invited out of the blue batted so much as an eyelash at what was, Darius had to admit, an outlandish request.

  “All you have to do is be here. He claims to be a weak sorcerer, and I believe that he is telling us the truth, but I want at least two of you here at all times. Don’t try to interrogate him. Talk to him all you like, but stay away from strategy, magics, and the like. Try to be friendly. Understood?”

  They understood. Darius didn’t really have much of a plan formed. He intended to come back here to ask more questions of Kray, but he had much to do – and Kray, important though he was, unique though he was, was still less important than developing a counterspell to the enemy magic. Now that he had the man set up for the evening, it was time to acknowledge that.

  “I will be back in six hours. You,” he pointed to another man. “Can leave these two here for now and come back to watch with me.” He was giving orders just as he might on the battlefield. The majority of wizards would not have stood for it, but these men seemed almost to enjoy it. “Good. Thank you all, gentlemen. This is a great help for a great task.”

  He brought them in to see Kray, and introduced them all. “These men will be your company,” he said lightly. “You have the run of the house, but do not stray outside yet. And Kray, this arrangement is temporary. Please do not take it the wrong way, but – “

  Kray interrupted him. “But, you are no fool. I know this – the Warlord would not fear a fool.”

  That Traigan may fear him pleased Darius to no end. “Yes, Kray. Thank you. I will return soon.” He turned to the wizards. “Thank you all, again.”

  They all nodded and bowed, and one even said, “Rest well, Darius.”

  Darius turned to him before he went out the door. “I do not go to rest, my friend. There is still a great deal to be done tonight.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Wizard Borman, at Andreth, has managed to break through the enemy interference with the globes. He reports that they are well and truly surrounded,” Callos announced to the assembled High Council, as well as the several generals who had been invited to attend. “They have insufficient force to break through the ring and escape, but the Enemy has not dared make an attempt on the fortress. Borman has supplies fit to last him several months.”

  “We’ll not need to wait that long,” said one of the generals. “Traigan is already moving more soldiers in, that I guarantee.”

  A chorus of agreement. Arric nodded as well, and looked towards the general who had spoken. “What do you see as our best options?”

  “Bring the soldiers we retreated from the Valley south and retake the Shambles! With help from Fourth Army, and even a sally from Andreth we’ll have them on the run shortly.”

  There were more ‘aye’s’ to this, though not as whole-hearted. The Shambles were not an open field and not conducive to large scale, coordinated movement. If both Bastion and Pyre poured reinforcement into the area, it would be a disjointed, bloody battle with an unsure outcome. If it lasted long, raiders from Nebeth would be harassing the supply lines between the fortress and the river. Bastion’s army would be slowly bled down and even if they achieved victory it may be at too great a cost.

  All of this was summarized by another of the generals, an older and more cautious man t
han his peer. Then he made the suggestion that none had yet been brave enough to do. “We could pull Fourth Army out, perhaps make a concentrated attack to evacuate Andreth, and reform the defense further to the west.”

  This was tantamount to ceding the Shambles – and Fortress Nebeth – to the Enemy. It would not be the first time the land had switched hands – not even in memory of the men in the chamber. All were loathe to consider it, when only weeks before they were set to fall upon Cairn.

  The older man continued. “Traigan has our line segmented and cut up. He has the initiative, and we’ve no easy way to reclaim it. Cutting our losses now will hasten the day when we can take back what we’ve lost here. Furthermore, Pyre has never held the lands beyond the Shambles for long and is not going to have the sorcerers necessary to launch a major attack with their new magic.”

  The news about Darius’s triumphant return from the Shambles had spread throughout the Crown in the short time since he had entered the city with his battered and much-reduced Gryphons. He and a number of wizards – all personally chosen by Darius from amongst his supporters, which caused no small amount of muttering – were working on a counterspell but had reported nothing to the High Council.

  “We’re lucky even to have the option,” said another general. “The Enemy’s attack would have taken both forts neatly if Wizard Darius hadn’t been in just the right spot to savage their flank assault on Andreth.”

  “Perhaps all he’s given us is a vain hope,” Arric said darkly. “A chance to waste more men in trying to hold what we’ve really already lost.”

  There was no other thing in the world more sure to put the Council Leader in a snit than the mention of Darius’s name. Unfortunately, the stories now being told by soldiers, officers, and common people were all more or less about his actions before and during the battle for Fort Fist, most of them having been told in the first place by members of the Gryphons to their comrades and listeners over a stein of ale.

  “Wizard Arric, you cannot be saying that keeping the Enemy off-balance and gathering the information we need on the teleportation was a mistake?”