Twixt Heaven And Hell

by Tristan Gregory

  They were dueling. Not violently, of course. The wizards assigned to guard Kray had struck upon the idea of teaching the man to use the magic of Bastion, so that eventually he could truly join their ranks. In addition, it allowed them to judge his talents. Either Kray was remarkably consistent in his efforts to conceal his true abilities, or he was, in fact, a very weak magician.

  Despite this, he was learning very quickly. Though not strong, he was clever. He and the third wizard were in a simple competition, each one attempting to make a ribbon – held in the air by both magicians as they strove against each other – touch a wooden rod held in the other’s hands. Power counted for nothing in such a contest, and Kray had proven exceptionally gifted with it.

  Even as Darius entered, the ribbon was slipping sinuously through the wizard’s attempts to gain control of it. The spells Kray used were elegant and definitely of a wizardly rather than a sorcerous style, though with telekinesis the differences between the two were entirely superficial. Moments later, Kray turned aside one of his opponent's spells and neatly wrapped the end of the ribbon around the rod.

  Kray laughed triumphantly and his opponent chuckled as well, taking one hand off the rod to shake the sorcerer’s hand.

  “That’s five in a row,” the man said as he looked towards Darius and the others. “He’s practically unbeatable now.”

  “This is magic even I can do,” Kray explained with a grin. “It allowed me to be useful in battle – a pebble will pierce a man’s skull neatly when you put a little bit of effort behind it.”

  The wizards shared a look as Kray related to them how he used to kill Bastion’s soldiers. It took only a moment for the man to realize what he’d said, and his eyes went wide.

  “I… I apologize,” he stammered. “I meant no offense.”

  “You were in battle,” Darius said. “You did what you had to. Those days are over. Now, I hear that you’ve brought something very important to our attention.”

  Kray looked confused, and Jotan took over. “He doesn’t know, Darius. We never told him what we had surmised. Tell him of the Warlord, Kray,” Jotan said. “And the conversation you had with him on the eve of your defection.”

  Darius took a seat at a table by the wall, and Kray and Jotan sat with him. The others arrayed themselves on other pieces of furniture around the room, despite having already heard the tale in question.

  “It was hours before the attack on the Shambles,” Kray began. “All sorcerers involved, even myself, were called to attend the Warlord. He informed us of the final plans, and together we decided where to target the Firewalking spells for maximum effect.” Here the man smirked. “I made sure to advise them to shift the attacking forces west instead of north, to clear my path for my eventual betrayal. I had intended to run to the camp to the north.”

  “You saved my Gryphons, as well,” Darius said warmly. “My men were in no shape to fight more at that point.”

  “You already fought most of the forces who would have been there, though,” Jotan insisted. Darius shrugged, and Kray continued.

  “A messenger came with news from Fortress Nebeth, for the Warlord. He told us that you, Darius, had been south of Nebeth two days before. Traigan said he knows where you have been because of how you kill men.”

  Darius paused at this revelation, but it was a topic for another time. “Go on.”

  “Then he said that he wasn’t aware you’d left the enemy – this city, left Bastion.” Kray said. “He knew that you had been ordered to stay here, Darius. He wouldn’t tell me how he learned this.”

  Sitting back in his chair as Kray finished, Darius looked at Jotan.

  “I hate to say it, but it sounds like you’re right.” Returning his attention to Kray, “Do you know what this means, Kray?”

  “You believe there is a spy in your city,” Kray said with a nod. “I agree. I apologize for not realizing it more quickly, but the Warlord has always known much and it did not catch my attention firmly enough.”

  “You are not at fault, Kray,” Darius assured the man. He quickly figured the days since the invasion of the Shambles. “It must be a wizard, yes; only they would know of Arric's orders. A traitor to Bastion. I have trouble believing it.”

  “I am a traitor to Pyre,” Kray said simply. “There have been traitors before.”

  “Those were always soldiers or common folk. All of them wishing to escape Pyre’s lands and the brutality they were shown. Why would anyone betray Bastion?” Darius wondered aloud. “What wrong could have been committed that it caused the Enemy to seem tolerable?”

  “The ‘why’ of the matter is not particularly important,” Jotan said. “Something must be done.”

  “Yes, and right away,” Darius muttered. It seemed that he would have to talk to Arric again. He did not see any way around it – the Council could not be kept in the dark about this. He may even have to reveal the existence of Kray. He said this aloud to those around him.

  “No!” protested Alain. “We still don’t know what they’ll do to him!”

  Kray’s face took on an expression of alarm, and he looked to Darius for reassurance.

  “I will protect you, Kray. And all those who have been aiding me,” Darius added for the benefit of those around him. “I think once we make it clear that you have been cooperating, even the High Council will see your value.”

  “What if they don’t?” asked Alain, whose opinion of the High Council was even more dismal than Darius’s. “What if they just execute him?”

  “That is not what I'm afraid of,” Darius, unthinkingly, said aloud. In his mind he pictured a scene from long ago – Makaelic’s shining hand, and a man convulsing upon the floor. Realizing the others had heard him speak, he cleared his throat and went on. “It will not happen. Arric and I may be close to... reaching an understanding. He will listen.” Darius said with far more confidence than he felt. Only a day before he would have been just as convinced of the opposite. Darius stood. “Remain here, men. This news cannot wait.”

  He walked briskly out the door so the others could not delay him with questions. For the first time in many months he was unsure if his current course was correct. Darius knew, though, what caused his disquiet. Only too recently he had wordlessly cast aside the Council and its authority, and now he was forced to acknowledge it again. He thanked the Choirs that Arric had extended the hand of friendship – or at least cooperation – first. Darius was not sure that he could have brought himself to do so.

  As he retraced his steps from not even one hour before, Darius chased down all of the eventualities of his forthcoming revelation to the Council Leader. If he could convince the man that Kray meant no harm, all would be well. Darius believed so, and that was the first step to convincing others. Of course, no other man alive had ever proven as hard to convince as Arric…

  Darius located his leader in the globe room. Arric looked at Darius calmly when the latter called his name, though he must have detected his rival’s – former rival’s – unease.

  “Yes, Darius? Have you finished the list already?”

  “No, Arric. There is something else I need to discuss with you. Something that has only just arisen.”

  Arric nodded. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  “Arric!” Darius winced at his own tone and swallowed the ire that already begun to creep back into his voice. Old habits… “Please, Arric,” he continued more evenly. “It is very urgent.”

  The Council Leader, too, had started at Darius’s tone. Fortunately Darius’s obvious embarrassment placated the man.

  “Very well,” he said, and Darius stepped back into the hall. When Arric joined him, Darius was again embarrassed to realize he didn’t know quite how to begin.

  “Arric, I have a confession to make,” he finally said. He spoke low enough so that the men in the globe room would not overhear. “You are likely to be angry with me in a moment, and I’ll allow that you will have every right to be.” Darius swallowed his pride for a
moment to say the words as they needed to be – he did not want to cast aside what little progress they had made a few hours before.

  “Heaven, Darius, what is it?” Arric asked. He did not appear disturbed, no doubt thinking the confession would amount to nothing more than a triviality. He should have known better than to expect such from Darius.

  “I brought something back from the Shambles,” Darius said. Before he even began his next sentence, his patience with this method of speech wore out. He had no clue how Arric bore it in council. “I took a sorcerer prisoner, Arric. Or rather, he surrendered to me – after betraying the Enemy and saving my life. He has defected. He wants to join us.”

  Darius felt better for having it all out. For a long moment, Arric just stared at him and Darius wondered if his leader had really heard him. As Arric processed what he’d just been told, though, his eyes grew wider and wider. When he felt that Arric had had enough time – though the man still had not acknowledged what he’d heard – Darius went on. “That is not, however, the urgent news. This man, Kray, has told me – “

  With an open hand, Arric forestalled any further words. “This is not the place to discuss this,” the Council Leader said. “My chamber, now.”

  Darius followed through a long corridor and up a short flight of stairs. After his initial relief at freeing himself from the burden of keeping secrets, his mood was once again sinking.

  When the door of Arric’s chamber had been securely bolted behind them, Arric went over to his desk but did not sit. Standing with his hands planted firmly on the large wooden frame of the furniture, he did not look at Darius as he said, “Say it again, please.”

  Darius did not mistake the politeness for anything but a rote mannerism.

  “A sorcerer has defected. He surrendered to me in the flight from the Shambles. I am convinced of his sincerity and furthermore, he has revealed to me that we may have a traitor of our own, spying for the Enemy in Bastion,” Darius finished, pleased with his summary and also at having finished without Arric cutting him off.

  “Where is this man?” Arric asked.

  “I have him under guard by three wizards, in a house near the barracks.” Darius named the wizards who were there.

  Still Arric had not looked at him, and Darius began to feel uncomfortable. The Council Leader was angry, there was no mistaking that. Now, how best to quell that anger? For a man who never concerned himself with what Arric felt about anything it was a difficult question. Darius had far more practice with enraging the man than calming him.

  There was another long pause. “A spy. Why do you believe this?”

  Darius told Arric exactly what Kray had revealed. “Traigan could not have learned these things in any other way. ‘Direct order’ were the man’s words. Can you think of another way for the Warlord to be aware of your commands? Or to have learned of them so quickly?”

  “These are the Warlord’s words, if this sorcerer is correct,” Arric said. “Or truthful. Could he have learned any of this on the journey to Bastion?”

  “No. He was kept drugged the entire time, practically insensible, and I never spoke of the council near him.”

  Darius was glad that Arric was concentrating only on this issue and not on the concealment of Kray in the first place. Naturally once he thought of this enough to be glad for it, it ended.

  “You have been in Bastion for days now. Why have you kept this man’s existence a secret from me? From the council?”

  Darius waited a moment before answering, struggling to keep anger out of his voice.

  “For years, the council has either ignored or misused every warning and scrap of information I have handed to them. I had no reason to believe they would do any differently with Kray,” he said. “I have come to you now because with all our differences, with all my lost faith, I could not keep this from you.”

  Arric was doing very well, Darius thought. He knew they had taken a step backwards with this matter, but all was not lost.

  “I need to meet this man,” Arric announced. “Immediately.”

  Darius nodded. It was not an unreasonable request. “Certainly. You can come to -”

  “You will bring him here,” Arric interrupted. “Tonight. I will speak to him, and then I – I, Darius, not we – will decide how to continue.”

  Every fiber of his being screamed at him not to relinquish control of the situation like this. It was not in his nature. For once he was forced to acknowledge that his own desires did not serve Bastion’s best interests. If he and Arric were to salvage something of the new beginning they had made, Darius must bow here.

  Bow he did. “Yes, Arric. After sundown?”

  “Yes, and make sure he is dressed as a wizard,” Arric confirmed. “If you are right, and there is a spy, Pyre must be denied any knowledge of this man – if they do not already know, and if this is not one of the Warlord’s plots.”

  Darius did not attempt to deny it. The thought had crossed his mind many times on the journey to Bastion. Despite his protestations on Kray’s behalf the fear that he was wrong dwelt ever in the back of his mind like a beast lurking in a cave, ready to maul and devour the unwary when their backs were turned.

  Sundown for Bastion came quickly, sitting as it did at the foot of a mountain chain. Six hours after high noon, the city was entirely within shadow though the horizon would remain alight for another hour. It was after this time, when even the peaks of the mountains to the northwest were dim, that Darius trudged once more up the road to the Crown. The city around him was falling quiet, all industry ceased for the day. There were only a handful of people upon the roads, and none who would have business that required them to examine a pair of wizards heading to bed for the evening.

  Beside him, Kray was dressed in robes borrowed from Jotan. His hair had been cut to a style common amongst wizards – who rarely allowed their hair to grow past the shoulders, whereas Kray’s had hung much further down his back in the wild-looking way of the Enemy. The man had also bathed, which came as a relief to all concerned.

  “I am to speak with… your Warlord?” Kray asked.

  “No, Kray. The position is not the same. He is our leader, but he leads through building cooperation and consensus.”

  The very notion seemed to confuse Kray. From what little Darius knew about how the Warlord ruled, he could understand that. Darius also knew that his own actions seemed contrary to the way Bastion really worked – the way it was supposed to work. The thought was troubling.

  Darius was not able to disguise his nervousness at the upcoming meeting, and Kray picked up on it.

  “This Arric. He decides my fate?”

  There was something in the question that Darius had not expected – Kray feared this. There was nothing Darius could do, though, but tell the truth.

  “Yes,” he said, and could say no more.

  So it was two silent men who climbed the road in the early night. Beyond the secondary walls that marked the border of the Crown, there were more people out and about. Wizards kept strange hours, and the messengers and officers were forced to accommodate them. None paid any heed to Darius and his companion. They made it inside the tower without incident, and were before the door to Arric’s chamber soon after.

  The door was closed, though light shone from beneath it. Darius knocked, the sound echoing loudly in the dim, still corridor.

  There was shuffling from within. The door opened, revealing Arric alone in the room. The Council Leader was wearing a fine robe, dark blue with silver threading – obviously chosen to impress. Darius could not say that it wouldn’t work. Kray knew nothing of Arric and despite Darius’s assurances that Arric was no Warlord, the high authority of Arric’s position had not been denied.

  Arric barely looked at Darius, saving his gaze for Kray. For his part, the former sorcerer did not flinch, staring back with some of the vigor that Darius remembered from the Shambles.

  “Kray,” Arric said. The man nodded, though it hadn’t been a question. “Com
e in. Darius, you wait in the hall.”

  Just like that, Kray disappeared into the room and Darius was left standing in the corridor. The Crown was rapidly cooling in the evening, but he resolved to wait just as well.

  For hours he sat and stood and paced the stones of the corridor. There was never a sound from within Arric’s chamber, not one exclamation or raised voice or even the shuffling of a chair. It carried on so long that, as his fingers grew numb from the chill of the approaching autumn, Darius began to wonder if the two men hadn’t somehow silently throttled each other.

  That thought was mere idle folly, of course. It had crossed Darius’s mind that, if Kray had been sent to cause trouble, then an attack on Arric may be just the sort of opportunity he had been looking for – and here they had dangled it in front of him. He had no doubt that Arric had considered this possibility as well. Even the most daft of men were clever where their own skins were concerned.

  Just as Darius turned from the door to begin pacing the hallway again, it opened. Kray stepped out, followed by Arric. Both were calm, looking as if nothing of note had transpired. Darius looked expectantly at Arric.

  “Take him back to wherever you had him, Darius,” Arric began. “Keep him there, away from the Crown, for now. Kray, continue to assist as you have been. I will be sending men to interview you as well – there is no doubt much you know that could aid us.”

  Darius opened his mouth to speak, but Arric gave him no chance. After delivering his orders, he disappeared back into the room and closed the door behind him. Puzzled, Darius turned to Kray.

  “What did you speak of for so long?”

  Kray shook his head. “The Council Leader -” Darius noted how awkward the title sounded from Kray “- said that I should not say.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  This time, Darius held the spell, and Balkan attacked. It could only be called an attack – the wizards had chosen a remarkably aggressive tactic for disrupting the Firewalking spell.