Trial and Glory (12 page)

Yanasi stood in the middle of the activity, directing as needed. He went to her.

“Everything under control, captain?”

She saluted. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping myself, but Crusher wouldn’t let anyone near you.”

“You’re doing fine.” He looked her up and down. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you get a rest?”

“Plenty of men are tired. I’ll find time to rest later. Rygar’s bringing up some food for me. I’ll be alright.”

Kaz grunted. “You can stay for now. Next bell, I want you off the wall and in a bunk. No excuses. Leave Captain Samhan in charge. It was his wall before we got here anyway.” Kaz started to turn away.

“Sir?”

He stopped.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold. It was—”

“You did exactly what should have been done, and I don’t want to hear more about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kaz left her.

Just like a commander. Always wanting to do more. Always questioning every decision made, even if it was the right one.

His stomach growled as Rygar passed carrying bread for Yanasi. He realized he could use some food and water as well.

But first, I need to see Wiqua. The wounded deserve my thanks.

* * *

Soldiers gave Kroke a wide berth as he walked the middle wall. Given his appearance, he couldn’t blame them. With blood and guts coating him, he didn’t doubt he looked as though he just delivered a newborn calf.

He spotted Rygar and headed in that direction. The scout waited next to Yanasi as she oversaw preparations for the next assault. Both gnawed on pieces of bread.

“Hey!” he called out.

Rygar’s eyes widened. “One Above, Kroke. Were you on the wall fighting or were you in the galley slaughtering a pig for dinner.”

Kroke opened his mouth, then closed it.

Yanasi inclined her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Look, I ain’t good at this kind of stuff so I’m going to just come out and say it. You’re both taking too many chances. I don’t like it. If Jonrell was here, he’d say as much.” He eyed Yanasi. “Cassus would too. I know I ain’t really raised you like they did, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to speak up in their place.”

She frowned. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. I know what I have to say might not hold as much weight considering the way I look right now, but I mean it. I saw you fighting near the front during the retreat. That was unnecessary.”

“Those were my men. I needed to be there for them. Kaz does the same all the time.”

“You ain’t Kaz,” said Kroke. “You can fight. There’s no denying that. But you don’t have the cold fury that he has. Few do. Lead from the back. Jonrell did it and was more than effective.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do that.”

He and Yanasi stared at each other, neither knowing how to break off the conversation.

This didn’t go how I expected it to. I only meant to express my concern, not lecture her.

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” Kroke muttered, and then walked off.

One Above Jonrell. How did you do it?

* * *

Elyse sat on the edge of the injured soldier’s bed. He had lost his leg at the knee, but Wiqua managed to save his life. She listened patiently while the man blabbered about his family back home.

It’s the least I can do.

“I can’t wait to tell my daughter that I met you. She’ll never believe me.”

Elyse removed a small ribbon from her dress embroidered with her initials. She took his hand, and tied it around his wrist. “Perhaps that will add some weight to your story.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

The soldier smiled before closing his eyes, exhausted from the short conversation. The last in line of that row of cots, she turned to leave, nearly running into Wiqua.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. Are you on your way out?”

“Yes. I just wanted to quickly offer my thanks.”

“You know, Kaz will be by soon in case you needed to see him.”

“Thank you, but this isn’t exactly the place to hammer out strategy.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean that. I just thought a simple hello might suffice. Or is that not possible?”

Elyse’s mouth formed a tense smile. “It’s possible. I’m just afraid that nothing is simple between us any longer.”

He frowned. “Must it be that way?”

“I don’t see how it could be any other way.”

Wiqua started to speak again, but she cut him off.

“I’m sorry, but I must be going.”

She hurried off, quickly burying any rising thoughts.

* * *

Guwan walked among the activity, boots treading over the sticky sludge of blood, dirt, and other bodily fluids covering the wall. Smoke from the burning siege equipment situated on the towers behind him drifted over the bustling activity with each gust of wind. Soldiers dragged away thousands of bodies littering the outer wall. They cared little for what side they once belonged to, only that those corpses stood in the way of reinforcing their position.

Guwan peaked through the cracks in the wooden logs used in the new wall. The defenders moved with great urgency.

Why are we making it so easy on them?

Despite the destruction of the catwalks, Guwan had wanted to press and storm the killing ground in an attempt to scale the middle wall. He knew that Kaz would have the space filled with traps. However, he also knew that he had a large supply of fresh men to throw at the defenders while Kaz’s men looked dead on their feet.

He had already begun calling up reserves for the next phase of the assault when Nareash had materialized. The High Mage teleported just before Guwan had a chance to step on the siege tower. He still felt the effects of Nareash’s pressure on him. The man had been angry at Guwan’s change in strategy, though his success at taking the outer wall had earned him a respite from the High Mage’s full wrath.

Guwan tried to argue his desire to press, but Nareash made it clear that if he did so, Guwan would not live to see another day. As before, Nareash seemed confused, hesitant on how to proceed. He teleported away before he would explain his concerns. Even still, he knew that if he wished to live, he had no choice but to obey.

Guwan’s eyes tracked Kaz, his red and blue armor shimmering with each step. Even the back of the man’s plate held one’s gaze. Guwan hated to admit it, but the former warleader appeared more intimidating than he ever had in Hesh. Reports assured him Kaz had not lost any skill in combat either. He wondered if he would get the chance to test himself against the man once again.

There is no practice circle here
.

* * *

Nareash materialized in the valley. He grit his teeth at the nausea from teleporting twice in such a short amount of time. He walked toward Colan, trying to calm his anger from his conversation with Guwan.

The shaman dismissed the two he spoke with when he saw Nareash. He bowed. “Master.” Straightening, he continued, “Are you alright?”

“Let me hear your report,” Nareash snapped, ignoring Colan’s question.

“Attacking Krytien from various angles as you wanted seemed to confuse him at first. Then something happened. He lashed out with that giant fireball. Afterward, our attacks bothered him less, and he took the offensive with more authority. Still, he never showed the power we expected.”

“Why do you think he held back?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps to conserve energy. At least that’s what I thought when I saw the red mist form over the outer wall again. But nothing happened this time. Did the spell fail?”

“No. It didn’t fail,” said Nareash. “It was an illusion. A ruse to give his men time to retreat back to the middle wall.”

Why not use the real thing? It might have turned the battle as it had once before. Then again, why hasn’t he used it or something as strong since that first attack?
Nareash clenched his fists.
The man is an enigma. And he’s standing in my way of taking Cadonia.

“Was he conserving energy to blow the catwalks?”

Nareash shook his head. “No. He did little there. That was a variation of a rare compound called Nitroglycas. It did not include all of the normal ingredients, but you still saw its effects. The effort and skill comes from creating the substance, not setting it off. A novice could have set it off.”

Nitroglycas. One more thing to worry about.

Nareash continued to drill Colan, asking more specific questions about his battle with Krytien. He had watched the battle unfold from a high cliff to better gauge the nuances of how Krytien handled the arts of sorcery. He changed subjects when he felt like he gained little from Colan’s report.

“What about their other mages?”

“They are talented, some more than others. We did as you instructed and targeted those wearing black robes first. We killed two of them as well as two others of lesser rank. However, they also eliminated many of the weaker ones we redistributed.”

Nareash clenched his jaw, angry Guwan had changed his orders, even if he found success. “Our losses are at least trivial compared to theirs.”

Colan nodded. “What would you have me do next, Master?”

“Organize those mages still under your control. Have them ready for the next assault.”

“When will that be?”

“I haven’t decided yet. We need time to regroup, and I have something to look into.” He narrowed his eyes. “I want you to stay with Guwan. See that he doesn’t take any more liberties with my orders.”

“He did take the wall today.”

Nareash scowled. “Yes, and that alone is why he lives. He may command this army, but he still answers to me. If he does anything contradictory to what I tell you myself, kill him. Is that understood?”

Colan bowed. “Yes, Master.”

Chapter 8

Tobin passed through Juanoq’s Old District each day as he traveled to the army’s training ground. Rarely did he deviate from his normal path.

He checked the message in his hand and then turned right at the next corner. Captain Teznak had provided him with the address of the next name on his list, Belin. He managed to get Tobin the information within the three-day period allotted to him. However, the last name on the list was another story.

“Warleader, I beg that you give me more time. I swear that I’m doing everything in my power to find Adosh, but I’m only one man. I’ve barely slept,” said the captain, looking up from one knee.

Tobin saw wine had not caused his puffy red eyes. “Give me Belin’s information and keep working on Adosh’s whereabouts.”

Teznak bowed. “Thank you, Warleader. I’ll update you every day.”

“I don’t need to know how close you are, only when you succeed.” He paused. “I’m giving you this extra time because of the change I’ve seen in the watch. Don’t make me regret my decision, captain.”

Tobin walked up to one of the better-looking buildings on the block. Though it needed to be razed like many of the structures around it, the walls at least showed evidence of repair.

Tobin knocked. After a few moments he did so again. He raised his hand a third time when the door finally cracked open.

The man who answered had a head full of gray hair. Though his dark face showed obvious signs of age, it did not possess the wrinkles Tobin had seen in Saruk. Tobin blinked as a younger image of the man flashed through his mind.

“Belin?” asked Tobin.

The former servant of his father’s household nodded and gestured inside. “Come in, Tobin.”

Tobin flinched at the use of his name as most addressed him by his title. He stepped through the door, surprised at the clean smelling air. The space was plain, table and chairs, a bedroll in the corner, and a meager collection of books.

Belin closed the door.

“You don’t sound surprised to see me.”

“I’m not. Have a seat.” Belin motioned toward one of the chairs. “I always assumed that you would eventually seek me out.”

“So you know why I’m here?” The chair creaked from Tobin’s weight.

“I have an idea.”

Tobin found the calm demeanor of the old man across from him unsettling. Belin didn’t hold any sense of awe in the way he regarded his ruler.

Even before becoming warleader, the general populace held me with a higher level of respect simply for being a Kifzo.

“I have questions. They’re about my childhood. Specifically, about my mother.”

“Of course. Ask away, Tobin.”

“Why do you not use my title?”

“My apologies, Warleader. Even after all these years it’s hard to envision you as anything but the boy I knew decades ago.” He inclined his head. “Do you remember those years?”

“No.” Tobin paused. “Some memories are there, but only in pieces.”

“Then how did you find me?”

“My Uncle Cef mentioned your name before his death years ago. He spoke of you favorably.”

“He was a good man.” He narrowed his eyes. “I always wondered if what I heard about your memory had been true or not.”

Tobin leaned forward. “What did you hear?”

“Many things. At least until your father put a stop to any talk about it. Even if those discussions took place in private, one couldn’t be sure who would run back to Bazraki and spill the details in hopes of winning favor. Those who risked talking risked death, or worse.”

Tobin wondered. “Saruk?”

Belin shrugged. “There was a rumor that a shaman got hold of him at your father’s command.”

“Well, my father is dead now.”

Belin sighed. “I know. I can’t say that I blame you considering the man he became after your mother died. Still, if someone had told me twenty years ago that you would kill Bazraki, I would have laughed in their face. Kaz, I could see. But never you.”

Tobin blinked. “Kaz? Why would my brother have anything against our father? He was always the favored son.”

“He was not. At least not when I served your father’s house. Bazraki loved you more.”

Tobin’s mouth hung open as every insult and embarrassment his father handed out came back to him. Not one kind word had ever been said to him until the very end. After he became warleader.