The Godlost Land (30 page)

The demon king raised his armies and sent them through the gate. And his army then proceeded to kill everything within reach. And every person that they killed provided the demon king with a piece of their lives for him to consume. He desperately wanted that food. So in return for being allowed to have his armies running free in the world he had given the Circle wizards some control over the creatures so that they could become their army. And he had given them their six great answers, though of course their wizards were right; he would have cheated them in some way. It was a logical arrangement she thought, though utterly detestable.

And now what Dina was suggesting sounded exactly the same. Logical, but utterly detestable. It wasn't hunting. It wasn't a clean kill. It wasn't even battle. Not when you were throwing your quarry bodily to the demons to consume. And Dina wasn't even talking about doing it in the rush of the pursuit. But afterwards. In a cold, heartless way. It made even the hangings seem respectable.

“You know that that is not the way of the Goddess.”

“And you know that these twelve are my friends. Or I thought they were.”

Dina's voice softened a little as her face paled. She looked old all of a sudden. Far older than the sixty or so years that she had actually been in the world. And Erislee instantly regretted her words. Of course the woman understood what she was saying.

“But they have betrayed me. They have betrayed the rest of the Circle – those we watched over and those we served. They have betrayed everything they stood for. And they have betrayed the five kingdoms. Yet even knowing all of that I would favour a quick death for them. However, killing them in the usual way will result in the deaths of many, many more. And there are so few left.”

“Besides, this is Tartarus we're speaking of. The realm where the most evil of men are sent when they die. Cannibals and child killers like Tantalus. Murderers of their own kin like Ixion. These traitors and murderers would be going there anyway. None of them would be going to Elysium. So all we're really doing is shortening the journey.”

That was sophistry at best Erislee knew. Word play to disguise the true horror of the act. But she didn't tell her that. The wizard understood only too well what she was saying. She was just trying to pretend that she didn't. To shield herself from her own dark thoughts.

“Erislee, this is not a thought I came to easily. It is not one made out of anger or fear. It is not of justice or revenge. It is only about saving those who survive so that one day this land may recover. And I very much fear that if and when the last of the twelve is killed in this realm the five kingdoms themselves will be destroyed in the act.”

Erislee said nothing for a while after that. Instead she simply stood there trying to think if what she was saying was even possible. Five kingdoms destroyed? Could she be right? She had never heard of magic of such power or scope as that which Dina Windstrider was suggesting. But what if she was right? What if the death of their enemy could be their own death as well? Could she even allow that possibility?

Though she would have to pray on it Erislee realised that there was only one possible answer to that question. But they couldn't! Could they? It entailed doing something monstrous to prevent something even worse from happening. Erislee took a few moments to let that understanding sink in. To calm her nerves, before she spoke.

“Tell me what you will need.”

“We will need to see an arcane smith and get him to fashion something for us.”

Visit the arcane smith? That was a surprise. But it was also a thought that appealed to Erislee suddenly. She wanted to see Harl again. She needed to thank him for having rescued her. And maybe berate him a little for having tried to kill her. She also wanted to know if he would finally bend his neck to the Goddess as was proper. Especially now that he was becoming such a useful part of their war. But of course she knew that she could not afford the time. Whitebrook was seventy leagues south of them. Even on the back of a unicorn that would take days of riding each way. And she had no idea what might happen while she was away. She said as much to the wizard.

“That is less of a problem than you think. You do know that I am a wizard of sky? I can fly us there in only a few hours or so.”

“Fly?” That did not sound so safe. But it did sound exciting. And a day away from the endless streams of soldiers coming to her with their problems would be a blessing.
But was it right?

“I'll have to think on it.” But even as she said it Erislee knew what her answer had to be. No matter what she couldn't allow the five kingdoms to be destroyed.

Chapter Twenty One

The sun had disappeared for the day by the time Harl walked into the town. It hadn't actually set, just moved behind some clouds, but without it things were very grey. It had been like that for a while. But that was only to be expected. It was the end of summer, the first hint of autumn was poking its nose in the air and the nights were cooling again. Some dark clouds and a little rain were normal enough. And Harl didn't mind the fall rain. It wasn't nearly as cold as that of winter and it filled his water tanks.

But even the greyness couldn't dampen the people's spirits. Even now, months after having been freed from the yoke of the tyrant priest, they laughed and smiled a lot more than they had. The children squealed and ran around in the streets laughing. In fact it seemed that there were many more children than he had previously thought living in the town. School had been restarted to teach them their letters and numbers. Apprentices were being taken on as well. And the houses were being repaired and even repainted. There was whitewash everywhere. After so many years of suffering and fear he supposed it was only to be expected. And maybe a little of what the people had hoped for in Whitebrook was coming true.

The town was busier as trade between nearby towns picked up. There were also bards visiting regularly and a few soldiers arriving to be trained in the fort. Some of those who had lived in hiding out of the town were coming in more often to buy things. The townsfolk were buying too – usually the stuff they had been doing without for years. The little luxuries that made life so much more pleasant. All the things that hadn't been important before. After all what did you care about such things when at any moment the priests and their monsters could turn up at your doorstep and demand all the coin you had? When they might kill you if you said anything to even suggest that you weren't faithful? But when there was hope, the little luxuries became important again.

At this rate he suspected, it would be at least a year or two before the people found their balance again. Before the dark times were finally left in the past and they returned to a normal life. That was provided they won the war of course. If they didn't, and if the false temple reasserted its power throughout the land, this brief time back in the sun would seem like a cruel dream. And he had no certainty that the war would be won. While much of the kingdom of the Rainbow Mountains was now free of the taint of the false temple, the city of Midland Heights still held firm behind its huge stone walls.

While everyone waited impatiently for word from the bards that the city had finally fallen, it was beginning to look as though there would be no quick end in sight to the siege.

Harl wondered if that was why he'd been summoned by the commander at short notice. To build siege weapons. More likely though it was some sort of magic question. Rightly or wrongly, he was considered to be some sort of expert in matters of magic. The sad truth though was that with only a few good wizards still alive and even fewer of those working for the rebels he just might be. But what Marni thought he could tell her that might be useful he didn't know. He wasn't a soldier or a tactician.

Still, when the soldier had ridden out that morning with the message about the meeting he'd been happy to come. It was after all a walk into town after so many weeks of solid work, a chance to eat a meal in the alehouse – Konig's wife Soria was a master with the roast – and maybe he could also make a trade for a new blanket. It would make a refreshing change from his days at the pit.

One thing had changed in town he realised as he walked down the street. All of a sudden people were greeting him. Normally when he came to town the most he got was the occasional nod from a shopkeeper – and that was probably as it should be. But now it seemed he was a popular man. People knew he was a wizard and not the solitary trapper he had been previously thought to be. There had been talk for a while he knew, and after the death of Alenda Goldeneyes that had grown a lot. The bards were even making up tales about it.

They also knew he was fashioning weapons and armour for the war. He understood that. Still, it caught him by surprise when people he hardly knew came up to him to tell him 'well done' and clap him on the back. Actually it left him feeling like an awkward fool. He was no hero. No mighty wizard. He wasn't someone that should be applauded. So when it happened all he felt was embarrassment.

It came as a relief when he was finally able to step into the alehouse and shake off the awkwardness as well as the rain.

Inside the alehouse things had also changed. Of course the last time he had stepped inside had been before the temple had burnt and ever since then nothing had been the same. But in the alehouse things were more different than he would ever have expected.

There was music for one. Some bard was playing a lute for a few coins. There was also laughter – another sound that he hadn't heard a lot of in a long time. And of course the ale and cider was flowing freely and a serving wench was rushing around between the tables.

“Harl!”

He heard his name called and looked to see an arm raised and waving at him from one of the tables at the back. An arm attached to a woman he knew. But it took him a moment to recognise her. And then when he did he almost wished he didn't.

It was the High Priestess Erislee Moonsong! What in all the hells was she doing here? In this town? In an alehouse of all places? It didn't seem a very holy place after all. Besides, he had thought she was at Midland Heights. Leading the army, helping with the siege. Still, at least she didn't seem angry. Nyma had said she wasn't when she'd ridden through a few weeks before. That in fact the High Priestess believed she actually owed him something. But could she really believe that? After all, he had been planning on killing her and she knew that.

She had a companion with her, a woman of advancing years and long, curly hair who looked every bit as out of place in the alehouse as did the High Priestess. But whoever she was, the one thing he was sure of was that she wasn't one of Erislee's soldiers. There was absolutely nothing of the military about her. A school teacher maybe – she had the look. But she was sitting in the gloom far from the light of the lamps or the fire and it was a dull day. He couldn't make out a lot about her, save that she seemed to be staring at him.

Knowing he was expected Harl walked over to the table, trying to pretend a calmness he didn't feel while weaving his way between boisterous patrons. At least they weren't drunk yet, but he knew they would be soon. Konig's ale was a powerful brew and his mead so sweet that people tended to drink far too much of it. As for his cider Harl had heard varying reports, but none had ever said it wasn't potent.

“High Priestess.”

Harl greeted Erislee politely, even though he didn't really feel it was deserved. He was satisfied that she and her temple were innocent of the crimes that had been committed in their name. But in his view even if they hadn't committed them they had still somehow allowed themselves to be overrun by wizards and demon magic. That seemed like a failure to him. But then when those same wizards were the most powerful and respected of his peers, and he had never even imagined that they could do something so terrible, there was no shortage of failure to go around. No shortage of shame to feel either.

“You look older boy.”

The High Priestess' companion addressed him and he instantly knew the voice. Just as he knew the face. But it took him a moment to think who she was. It had been a long time since he had seen her.

“Dina Windstrider!” It was her. Three hundred leagues and five years from Lion's Crest, but it was still her.

“Well at least your memory still works. And I suppose I should be grateful you're not trying to kill us. I have been hearing many strange tales about you boy. But none of them about your even tempered nature.”

Harl could believe that. He doubted that either the High Priestess or her sister held him in any great regard. He had tried to kill Erislee after all and had caused Nyma plenty of consternation. As for the commander she regarded him as “difficult”. Probably more so after Alenda Goldeneyes' death when much of the fort had been damaged. Even the soldiers who came to him with various messages sometimes seemed a little wary. But once, long ago, he had been a polite and respectful artisan. His customers had liked him and valued his work. He had had good friends
and been a respected man in the city
. Time it seemed had changed him.

“You sent for me for a reason?” Harl sat down at the table and called for an ale, wondering why two such important people had come to see him. And deciding that it was probably best to speak of other things than his character failings. But Dina Windstrider unexpectedly had other questions for him.

“You were in Lion's Crest at the end?”

“Yes.” He nodded though he was reluctant to talk about it. Her words had sent a chill down his back.

“Tell me of that.”

Harl didn't want to think about that day let alone talk about it. But he guessed that wasn't to be his choice. So slowly he began telling her of what he had seen and heard. What he had done. What he remembered.

He wouldn't however, tell her about what pained him most. The questions of what had happened to his family that day. He couldn't. It was almost certain that they were dead, because there was no way that they could have survived given where they had lived. They had likely died in the first hour of the attack. And yet because he hadn't actually seen their bodies he was left with doubt. Just a sliver. And that sliver somehow became the faintest of hopes. Hope that was like a dagger in his chest being twisted.

Harl gulped at the ale Soria brought him as he told them his tale.

“Nyma said that you were there on the wall when it fell?”

It was a simple question but not the one she really wanted answered. Harl knew that. What she was really asking about was Rickarial. About their one great hope. The unofficial head of the Circle. The one who had led them all with such great pride. And the way he had met his end. Grimly Harl told her of what he had seen.

“I was there with Rickarial. On the wall. I saw him fall. It was terrible.”

“So I was told.” The wizard looked away for a moment, her voice soft and sad. “He died well?”

And that was what mattered he realised. It was maybe the only thing that mattered any longer. To her, to him and to any of the wizards of Lion's Crest. That one of the Circle had stood up and fought instead of running. That one of her friends had stood against the rest.

“Very well. He was glorious. He stood on that wall sending all the fire and lightning into that fray that he could, and the city fairly shone with his might. We – maybe a hundred and fifty soldiers and I – stood beside him with our swords before us and guarded him with our lives. We knew he was the only chance Lion's Crest had. And for a time we even hoped that we would win through.  Because we had Rickarial with us and we saw in him a chance.

But then an arrow streaked through from nowhere, crossing the city in the blink of an eye and pierced his heart.”

“There was nothing we could do. It was too fast, too sudden, and there was no warning. He died instantly. And when he died he didn't burn; he exploded. A blast so powerful that it tore down part of the city wall and sent those of us still standing flying.”

“If only there had been some warning.”

“There is always warning boy. It's just that we don't always know it.”

The sadness in her voice grew, and he guessed in the lines of her face. It was hard to tell in the dim light. But she wasn't talking about the arrow. Harl knew that. She was talking about the attack. And the deal that had been made. And maybe, he hoped, as he let the silence drag he might finally learn from her what had happened. How this disaster had unfolded. How twelve of the most learned of wizards could do something both so terrible and so stupid. And who among his friends were guilty. It was a while before she spoke.

“Terellion was always proud. Too proud. And he always said that the Circle did not get the praise it deserved. He was a man of poor heart raised to a position of great power because of his skill in summoning. That was a mistake, and it surely should have been a warning.”

She meant Terellion the Bright, the summoner, a wizard who Harl had only ever seen a couple of times, and then only from a distance. But he knew she was right about him. Terellion was known for his pride. His apprentices suffered for it when they failed to introduce him properly to guests or pay him the respect he believed he was due.