The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War) (22 page)

B
efore the princess could find some new argument, a messenger appeared at the outer door. He spoke a moment with the farmboy, and then the two approached to speak with Sera. Corin caught the edges of their conversation. It was nothing of any great fascination for him—something about the weather—so Corin nodded in polite acceptance when the farmboy made his apologies. They left him in the war room, alone with his thoughts.

It troubled him how easily the young man had swayed him. Even now, he found himself imagining the glorious kingdom they could build upon these ruins. He shook his head, trying to dispel the image. His destiny lay elsewhere. The farmboy was useful in his way, but he could be dangerous. He didn’t even really try. It was astonishing.

Sera’s questions troubled him more. That cruel dream had given him the strength to defy the princess for a moment, but she had found his hidden fear. What would Aemilia think of this? How much sacrifice could she condone, even in pursuit of Oberon’s design? He ground his teeth until his jaw ached, but he could find no answers.

They were the sort of thoughts that needed drowning deep in distilled spirits. No matter how desperate they were, a gathering this size would have to boast some form of tavern. Corin wrapped himself within his cloak and his careful glamour, and then he headed for the door.

As Corin passed outside, a spindly old Raentzman looked up with eyes full of hope. His expression soured when he saw that Corin was alone. He leaned aside, trying to catch a glimpse back into the empty building.

“You’ll have to come back later,” Corin said in passing. “The boy’s been called away.”

The old man furrowed his brow. “Again? Storm and sorrow, what will it take to catch him?”

Caught up as Corin had been in thoughts of Auric’s special magic, the mild complaint stopped him in his tracks.

Corin frowned. He’d thought the old man looked familiar at first glance—like any Raentzman from the country, really—but now that he looked closer, he recognized the man.

“Jacob Gossler?” Corin asked. “From Taurb? Did you once run a country tavern?”

“I did,” the old man said, his attention still mostly on the empty building. “Would you know if he means to return soon?”

“I couldn’t say. But I can sympathize with your frustration. If you’ll show me where to find one, I’d be glad to offer you a drink.”

Jacob turned at that, finally submitting Corin to a close inspection. “I might know a place or two. New here, are you?”

“Aye,” Corin said, following as the other man set a brisk pace back up into the city. “And you’ve been here awhile?”

“Near enough a month now, and not a day has passed I didn’t try to catch the blasted hero for a chat. Twice a day, most days, and lately I’ve gone by there three, four times. Fortune’s forgot me, friend. Storm and sorrow!”

Corin shared a rueful grin, but his mind was racing. This old man was a puzzle. A hundred others had happily abandoned their petitions at a brisk dismissal, but Jacob didn’t hesitate to vent his frustration.

In a strange way, that comforted Corin. As exciting as Corin’s life had become, it helped to see ordinary men behaving in ordinary ways. This Jacob was a country man, too old and gnarled to bend before the breeze of Auric’s charisma. Yet he was here.

Corin frowned. “What brings you to the camp, Master Jacob?”

“This and that,” the old man said. “And you?”

“Vengeance,” Corin answered. He’d decided long ago that this man could be trusted, and it warmed Corin’s heart to speak the truth. “Hatred. I want to see Ephitel punished for what he’s done.”

“Ah. The justicar. She’s responsible for most of those who’ve come here.”

“Not just her,” Corin said. “Ephitel himself. How many senseless wars has he stirred up among our nations? How many deaths for his vainglory? This justicar is just the newest of his atrocities.”

Jacob nodded, thoughtful. “I’ve heard some talk like that, though most of it has been more . . . circumspect.” He walked awhile in silence, considering Corin from the corner of his eye. “You make it all sound personal.”

“I’ve seen his face,” Corin said. He closed his eyes and let the glamour melt away.

The tavern keeper gave a startled grunt, but that was his only reaction. A moment later, he nodded in recognition. “Now there’s the face of a man who could bring a grudge against a god.”

Corin looked away. “I never meant your village to get caught up in it.”

“Anything worth doing has its consequences,” Jacob said beside him. He walked a moment in silence, considering, then frowned sideways at the pirate. “I’ve heard an awful lot of rumors swirling around your name, but no one ever said you were a wizard.”

“Not a wizard,” Corin said. “I am a lot of things, but I am not a wizard. I couldn’t be; I lack the discipline.”

Jacob chortled at that. “Still, it’s like living in a children’s tale to watch a man change faces. Do you know any other tricks?”

“I know how to kill a god,” Corin said quietly. “How would you like to see that firsthand?”

The old man didn’t answer right away. He weighed the question, sucking on a tooth and staring at something far away.

In the end, he shrugged. “I can’t say I’d rush to be at the front, but I’ll tell you this: There’s times even a good animal needs to be put down. Show me a justicar who treats innocent townsfolk like that girl treated Taurb, and I’ll show you a god gone rabid.”

Corin clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“Not at all. But I take the world I’m given and do the best I can with it.”

Corin carried those words awhile, turning them over. As hard as he’d tried to force the issue from his mind, Sera’s questions still scratched at the back of his mind. But now the tavern keeper’s words gave Corin a perspective to consider what he’d shied away from before. Eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders tense, he spoke his fears. “Auric thinks we can fix things without killing anyone.”

“Young fellows get strange notions sometimes. Especially when they’re in love.”

Corin snorted. “Sera doesn’t think we can fix things at all. She thinks we should come to terms with that.”

“Huh. That doesn’t really seem your nature, though.”

“Not at all. But she also thinks—” Corin choked on the words he meant to say. He had to clear his throat, and still his voice came hoarse. “She doesn’t think Aemilia would want me to do this.”

The tavern keeper let a respectful silence take a breath, then he asked, “That’s your girl?”

“She was,” Corin said. “And Ephitel’s victim.”

“Well, there’s an easy way to guess what she would want.”

“Aye?”

“Ask yourself what she loved most. Was it your caution and careful sense, or your passion and your fury?”

Corin chuckled. “You have a way of cutting through the complicated problems.”

“I’ve spent a lifetime polishing a bar. It’s in my nature.”

“You know what she really loved?” Corin said, staring off into the distance once again. “More than anything else, she loved Hurope.”

“All of it?”

“All of it. Everything it represented. Everything it could
hav
e been.”

“I get the feeling you’re not including Ephitel in that.”

Corin shook his head. “He was never supposed to be a god.”

“Then that brings us right back where we started. There’s times when even a good animal needs to be put down.”

“Aye,” Corin said. “I don’t know if you’d remember, but when we first met back in Taurb, I asked of you a favor.”

“Hah! How could I forget? That crazy old dwarf.”

“You met him then?”

“Sure. He came through town two days behind you. Maybe three.”

Corin drew a ragged breath. “And? You gave him my message?”

“I tried, but he would scarcely listen. The rumors reached him first.”

“What rumors?”

“About you! You left Taurb with that justicar hot on your heels, and when the dwarf showed up asking after a stranger dressed in black, you can bet he found plenty of men willing to share the tale.”

“Gods’ blood,” Corin whispered.

“You said it. Everyone thought you must be dead by the road somewhere, but the dwarf had to go and see for himself. I caught him halfway out the door, and he only stopped that long because I said I had a message from you. Told him everything you sa
id to.”

Corin sighed. “But I don’t suppose he listened. That explains why Jane said there were rumors he’d been all over Raentz. Probably searching for some sign of me.”

“He’d have gone by Rauchel, then. It wasn’t half a week after you left before those rumors started slinking in. Every tavern in Raentz must have heard that Captain Corin had arrived a hero in Rauchel. And left that very night for the Isle of Mists.”

Corin rubbed his eyes. “Oh, sweet Fortune, he wouldn’t have tried to follow me there. Would he?” The thought of the city dwarf wandering through those choking fogs lay hard on Corin’s heart.

The tavern keeper seemed to sense it. He lowered his voice and looked away. “I’m sorry, son. He seemed dead-set on findin
g you.”

“He’s an artist,” Corin said. “He’s a drinker and a gambler. He’s not a hero. I never should have sent him from Aerome.”

“Perhaps he’s found his way back by now,” the tavern keeper said, though he didn’t sound as though he believed it. “Perhaps he never left Rauchel. I don’t know where he’d have found a captain fool enough to sail him there.”

“Then you don’t know what a captain’s willing to trade for a dwarven sextant,” Corin said. He sank down on his knees, shoulders bowed beneath the weight of his poor choices. “I did this. I set him on this journey. I asked him to carry it for me, just for safekeeping, and now it’s lost with his poor, stupid corpse somewhere on the Isle of Mists—”

“The parcel?” Jacob asked, frowning. “You’re so concerned about that parcel he was carrying? Not for your friend?”

“We all die someday, tavern keeper,” Corin said. “All of us but Ephitel, without that parcel.”

The tavern keeper rolled his eyes. “I’d hate to call you friend, Captain Hugh, but I can soothe your heart at least. The dwarf did tarry long enough to hear your message, after all.”

“Aye? And?”

“And he could no more guess at where to find a druid than I could. He was so anxious to get after you, no matter how I insisted, so he handed his parcel off to me. And I’ve been trying to deliver it ever since.”

Corin stared up into the old man’s eyes. “
You
have the sword?”

“It’s not a sword. It’s more a scrollcase.”

“But Ben delivered it to you?”

“He said you’d clearly trusted me enough to ask the favor. Truth be told, he was far more worried about your safety than some artifact.”

He said the words with accusation, but Corin felt no sting. His heart soared with hope. He had the sword.

Jacob was still grumbling. “A right nuisance it has been too. That’s what brought me here. They said the farmer hero had a refuge with the druids, but you just try and find a druid who’ll give you the time of day. Try to find a minute with the hero! He’s always caught up in something. If I’d known
you
were here, I could have been done with it.”

Corin was barely listening. His euphoria took on a sickly cast. He had the sword. It was here, with him. How long had Sera said he slept? Three days? Four? Long enough for Jessamine to sense the two in close proximity, no doubt. Long enough for her to report to Ephitel. Long enough for them to plan a strike.

He staggered to his feet and gripped the old man by his shoulders. “We have to find the farmboy. We have to warn him.”

Jacob frowned. “Because I have some scrolls?”

Corin shook his head, furious. “We’re out of time. It’s happening too soon.”

“What is? What’s happening?”

“War,” Corin said, remembering the force of soldiers Jessamine had brought to Raentz before. Ephitel could not be entirely blind to what was happening here, and Jessamine had abandoned all restraint since her visit into Faerie. She would bring overwhelming forces, if she thought she could capture him here. “How far would Ephitel go to keep his place on Attos?”

“He’d burn the world,” Jacob said, unhesitant.

“Aye,” Corin said. “But I suspect he’ll start with us.”

W
here is the sword?” Corin asked.

“The
scrollcase
is in my room,” Jacob said. “I’ll be glad to turn it over—”

“Keep it,” Corin said, his mind racing. Fortune favor, he would need it soon enough, but until then he hoped a little separation might be enough to keep Jessamine from walking straight to him. “Fetch it. Keep it close. I’ll have Auric assign someone to watch you.”

The old man raised his eyebrows. “I’m not a helpless babe.”

“Against Jessamine, you would be.”

Jacob shrugged, conceding the point. “But how do you mean to find Auric? I’ve been trying for weeks—”

“I was just in council with him,” Corin said, sifting through his memory. A messenger had come to summon Auric to investigate some minor matter at the city walls. Something about the weather. It hadn’t been half an hour. With any luck, he was sti
ll there.

“I’ll find him,” Corin said. “You go and fetch the sword. Then meet us at the war room.”

Jacob opened his mouth to argue more, but Corin didn’t wait. He turned and dashed back down the hill, rushing to the gates beneath the city walls. From half a mile off, he could see them gathered there. The messenger whipped his head around at Corin’s fast approach, but the princess and the farmboy never turned from their consideration of the landscape outside the city.

“Grave news,” Corin panted, stumbling to a halt at Auric’s side. “We must . . . prepare . . .”

Before he could say more, the farmboy grabbed his shoulder and thrust him forward, showing him the wide, low valley spread before the city’s gates. “Corin! I’m glad you’re here. You’ve seen even stranger places than I have. Can you explain this?”

Corin didn’t look. He twisted against the farmboy’s grip, trying desperately to catch his eyes. “You don’t understand! The Godlanders . . . they know . . .”

Auric shook his head. “No. That’s what Sera thinks, but I can’t imagine how a fog could be some sort of ploy. It’s certainly strange, though; I’ve never seen its like.”

Corin went still. He stopped fighting Auric and turned his attention to the east.

Fog lay across the valley, despite the afternoon’s warmth. It was no normal mist, but a thick, roiling bank of fog two paces high and stretching out across the valley and up into the plains beyond. Even from a distance, it chilled him to the bone.

“I have seen its like,” Corin said. “On the Isle of Mists. And Jessamine was there too.”

Auric laughed. “You cannot mean she is responsible for the terrors that hang over that place?”

Corin shook his head. “I mean she might well have gotten the idea from there. What better way to move an army undetected?”

“An army?” Sera asked, alarmed. “What news is this?”

The messenger darted between them, stabbing a finger out toward the fog. “A rider! Who approaches?”

All four leaned forward, straining their eyes for a clearer view as a man on horseback resolved out of the fog. He’d been on an uneven path, aimed somewhere south of the city’s ruins, but as soon as he broke clear, he dragged on the reins and bore his horse hard toward the city.

Corin recognized the rider half a heartbeat before Auric heaved a relieved sigh. “Hartwin! Noble Hartwin. Corin, you had me half-expecting a justicar!”

Corin felt no such relief, especially when he caught sight of the young soldier’s grim expression. He was haggard, and his horse was blowing from a hard ride, but Hartwin did not relent. When he spotted Auric waiting, he bent lower and drove his spurs into the beast’s sides.

“What news is this?” Sera whispered.

“They’re coming for us,” Corin said.

Auric squeezed his shoulder, reassuring. “It’s only Hartwin.” But he did not sound convinced.

The young knight sprang from his saddle at full gallop and sprinted the last distance. Auric pushed past Corin and ran to catch his friend in an embrace. It was likely all that kept the younger man from collapsing.

“What news?” Auric asked, pushing him out to arm’s length but still holding him. “You were to wait at Taurb for more refugees.”

“She’s back,” Hartwin said. “The justicar. She’s kept it secret, but I have eyes and ears. She’s back, and she means to end us.”

Sera stepped forward. “How could she? On what grounds? We break no laws to gather here.”

Hartwin shook his head, eyes rolling like a panicked horse’s. “She does not bring police.”

“Soldiers?” Corin asked.

Hartwin shook his head again. “Sharpshooters. Gladiators. And wizards.”

Corin nodded. “That explains the fog.”

“They’re already marching,” Hartwin said. “I passed by them at Reconciliation. Where else could they be going?”

“Gods preserve us,” Auric whispered.

“How far?” Sera asked. “How long do we have?”

“A day at most. She has perhaps a hundred men to coordinate, but these are not foot soldiers. They travel light and strike fast.”

“A hundred gladiators,” Auric said, awestruck. “How could she bring so many?”

“Not all were gladiators,” Hartwin said. “But they do stand out, and I saw at least a score of them. The rest were mostly crossbowmen.”

“And wizards,” Corin said, feeling numb.

“Those I did not see myself,” Hartwin said apologetically. “But rumors spoke of them. And there is the fog, of course.”

“That would take a mighty effort,” Auric said, waving to the horizon. “Ridgemon could not do a hundredth part of that. Even if she brought several masters, it will take all their concentration to maintain it.”

“And if she brought more than several?” Corin asked. It was a preposterous notion, but no less so than a score of gladiators. Those were the fiercest soldiers that Hurope had to offer;
survivors
of the ruthless Games, they were born and bred for battle. Rarely had any field seen more than one or two gladiators, but they were always decisive factors.

The young knight trembled. “I do not think we can win.”

“They will not make war on us,” Auric said, striving to encourage his friend. “We have done no wrong. How many innocent women and children are gathered in those walls? No justicar could unleash that kind of death upon them.”

Corin met the princess’s eyes and saw in them the same certainty he felt. Jessamine was lost to reason. She had become a plague, and if she had brought such a force as this into the Wildlands, she would scour these ruins down to bedrock.

There was another certainty in Sera’s expression: This was Corin’s fault. He’d doomed them all by coming here. The timing was too great a coincidence for it to have been anything else. She spoke no word of accusation; she merely held his gaze, but it was enough to convey how much she hated him.

Then she took the young knight’s hand and pulled him away from Auric. “Come,” she said. “We’ll need to spread the word among the refugees, prepare them for her arrival. We can find you food and drink while we are at it.”

He nodded, mute, and caught his horse’s reins before shuffling after her into the town. She threw one glance back over her shoulder, and she spent her glare entirely on Corin. He’d made an enemy there.

But a far worse one was coming. He turned to Auric. “How many can you field? I’ve heard you have a thousand in your camp.”

“Yes, but they are farmers and housewives. Fighting men? I might find a hundred men to throw against hers.”

“You mean more former free lances?” Corin asked. “Men like you and Hartwin?”

“Some. And then some regulars who fought in border wars—”

Corin shook his head. “A decade gone?”

“Or more. We were not recruiting for an army here.”

“I wouldn’t wager on a hundred farmers who still own rusty swords against a single gladiator, and she has at least a score of them. But there are the druids.” He heaved a small sigh as he remembered the druids he’d seen before. “How many are here?”

Auric shook his head. “A dozen, but they will not participate in armed conflict. They told me so from the first.”

Corin cursed. “Then we cannot stand. Not here. Not now. We must run.”

“Run? But you were so thirsty for a war.”

Corin shook his head. “Not now. I told you I needed time—”

“But there is none,” Auric said. “We make our plans and watch them crumble, and then we fight the field we’re given.”

Corin shook his head. “That’s foolishness.”

Auric met his eyes. There was no hope in his expression, no clever spark. He didn’t even summon up the gentle lie he’d offered Hartwin. “You asked for a war against the gods. This is what it looks like, Corin. It’s hopeless. It was always hopeless. But I will lead my men to battle regardless.”

Corin shook his head. “I told you, I have a plan! I just need time. We can salvage this, but not if our only fighting men die in a senseless charge here.”

“A senseless charge? This is the battle you’ve been begging me to fight. This is the proof of everything you’ve claimed. We did nothing to defy them, but still they raised against us a force such as Hurope has not seen since the pagan wars. If we had made camp any closer to the Dividing Line, we’d already be massacred.”

“And you will rush to war against that very force. You’re giving them the massacre they want.”

Auric met Corin’s eyes. “What do you propose?”

“We should withdraw. They don’t know our disposition here. Even when they close on us, they’ll do it with care, but we have time to slip away. I have hope that I can fool them with a glamour. If I make them think the camp is fortified, they’ll come on slow.”

“And where are we to run to?”

“Further inland,” Corin said. “Anywhere away from them. You have friends among the savages. If we can evade them for a week or two, they will withdraw and leave us time to make a better plan.”

Auric considered that a moment. “That seems a fragile hope for men defying gods.”

“Better than going to their slaughter.”

“Why?” Auric asked, his gaze penetrating. “Why such restraint now, when you’ve been begging for this conflict all this time?”

Corin chewed his lip a moment, considering his answer, before settling for the truth. “It’s not gladiators and wizards I want dead. It never was. Win or lose, this is not the fight I’m looking for.”

“Not the Godlanders? Then who—”

“It’s the gods I want. I need you and your men to bring me Ephitel. What good have we accomplished if you kill a dozen soldiers?”

Auric’s jaw dropped. “You mean that?”

“Every word of it.”

“You’re not a soldier, are you?”

Corin frowned. “I have been many things—”

“But not a soldier.”

“No,” Corin admitted. “I’ve never been a soldier.”

“It shows,” Auric said. “You’re still talking about the war you planned for, blind to the battle raging around us.”

“I’m not blind! I’m suggesting a better strategy.”

“For your war,” Auric said. “You’re staring into the distance and dreaming how to use today’s victory, oblivious to the certainty of defeat.”

The certainty of defeat? From Auric, who could do the impossible? The sentiment shook Corin to his core. He couldn’t let this man give up.

So he invested his voice with all the scorn he could manage. “Surrender, Auric? Before the fight has even been engaged? That is no noble sentiment.”

“And I do not mean to surrender. I mean to fight.”

“But you have said—”

“I’ve said we cannot win. You said it too. Your best plan is to slink away and buy some time.”

“But if you don’t hope to win, why fight at all?”

“To save the others.”

Corin frowned. “What others?”

“The refugees. The women and the children. Your Nimble
Fingers. All those who came here for your dream, not for m
y war.”
Corin sighed. “There are good souls among them, but none of those will decide this war. Would you really throw away our fighting men for the sake of our civilians?”

“Every time. Every single time.”

Corin gaped. “But why?”

“That’s what fighting men are for, Corin. We sacrifice ourselves to the horrors of war so that the rest of you won’t have to. We pay a price in blood—our own and the stain of others’—to preserve the lives of men whose hands are clean.”

Corin shook his head. “That does not explain your objection to my plan. If we delay the enemy forces and slip away—”

“Deeper into the Wildlands! One man in seven would be lucky to survive.”

“You’ve survived there.”

“And I’m a soldier. Every man I brought with me here was battle trained before he ever crossed the Dividing Line, and even so we’ve had our losses. Your Nimble Fingers might live like kings on the darker streets of their great cities, but they would freeze in terror at a wyvern raid. They would turn and fight beside a manticore against my men. I will not take civilians on a desperate flight into the Wildlands.”

“But if they stay here—”

“If they stay here and fight, they’ll die. If we wait for the Godlanders to come into the camp, they’ll slaughter everyone here. But if the fighting men go out to face them, if we send a sally and they cut us down, the Godlanders will show mercy to our noncombatants.”

Corin gaped. “That’s your entire plan? You’ll go off to die and let the Godlanders make prisoners and slaves of those you leave behind?”