Read Twixt Heaven And Hell Online
Authors: Tristan Gregory
Chapter Nineteen
Despite the grisly tales of their run through the Shambles, there was no shortage of volunteers for the Gryphons. Darius stood watching as his sergeants and veterans tested the hopefuls on the dusty ground of the barracks yard.
“How many yesterday?” Darius asked.
Robert stood next to him, taking a short break from testing candidates himself. “Eight,” was his reply, meaning three new Gryphons from his work yesterday.
“Is that all?”
“We’re getting too popular. More and more men show up, but so many of them are young, inexperienced, or simply not skilled enough. It takes awhile to sort through all the chaff,” Robert explained bluntly. “We should set an age limit. I had to go through the motions with a boy of sixteen summers today, a new soldier. But he’d seen battle – or so he claims – and so he came when the call went out.”
Darius nodded. “A good idea. Who is our youngest man?”
“Before or after?”
The wizard grimaced. “Before.”
“We had a lad of eighteen, I think. Now, it’s all the old veterans. Youngest is probably Trevor, at twenty-three.”
“Perhaps twenty would do, then. Most soldiers have served for four years by then. They’ll know more about their own abilities.”
“Yes sir, that will do fine. I’d better get back to it, sir.”
“Go on then, Robert. No more than four hundred.”
Two-hundred was the limit set by a grudging Council four years prior, but he’d been quietly adding more and more to the total ever since.
Darius took his leave soon after. He had the feeling that some of the soldiers were nervous with him standing there watching them ‘test’ for entrance into the Gryphons, and he did not want a good man denied because he distracted by having a wizard for a spectator, as most soldiers would be. It was an alienation he had worked hard to overcome with his own men, and he cursed the council all the more that it was necessary.
Leaving the barracks, Darius took the main road that would bring him by Robert’s house. He needed to question Kray more about the transportation magic. Most of his talks with the sorcerer – he really should stop thinking of Kray as a sorcerer – had been entirely concerned with the ‘Firewalking’ spell, as the Enemy called it. Darius and his compatriots had nearly figured out the spell itself, and already had several interesting possibilities for interrupting it.
Dust pluming in the wake of their passage, a gaggle of children dashed in front of him, making Darius take a quick step out of the way for fear of being trampled. Some of them had padded training swords, slim wooden constructions wrapped in soft leather. Playing at this ‘War’ game that Kaylie had mentioned, no doubt. It disturbed Darius somewhat, but these boys would learn the truth of the matter all too soon – he, like Balkan, saw no reason to spoil the fun while it lasted.
The stampede, however, did not pass him by. One boy saw him and stopped in the middle of the street. The rest of the group followed suit, staring at the wizard. The ringleader looked at Darius, taking in his odd dress – for a wizard – and the blue-and-red badge he wore over his heart as proud leader of the Gryphons.
“Wizard Darius!” piped the boy, who Darius imagined to be somewhere between the ages of six and twelve. He had no experience in guessing childrens' ages.
A bit surprised at being recognized by one so young, he politely replied, “Yes?”
“Do some magic for us!”
The demand struck Darius as, well, childish. The little brat was no doubt some general’s get, and used to having his way. Darius was mildly surprised it had not been taught to him that wizards were not to be ordered around.
Uncomfortable with all the eyes upon him – he adored Balkan’s little Kaylie, but other children made him feel awkward – Darius decided on a whim to oblige. Suddenly the wooden sword flew from the boy's grasp and leapt to Darius’s outstretched hand.
“Magic?” he asked innocently. “What kind?”
The collection of boys chattered and giggled with glee at the display, and Darius felt absurdly pleased at the reaction. Another child, larger and apparently older than the brat, stepped forward. “Play War with me, Wizard Darius!”
He was immediately shoved back by his diminutive leader. “Fool! Wizards can’t use swords, they use magic!”
It was the way in which he said it – as if wizards couldn’t use a sword perfectly well if they wished! – that raised Darius’s hackles and made him reply.
“I’ll have you know I am an accomplished swordsman!” Darius said.
In answer, the bigger lad put himself on guard, and all the others cleared off a ways to give them room.
Wondering if what he’d started was entirely wise, Darius mimicked the on guard position. He did know how to use a sword. He also knew that in fair combat with a real soldier he would be cut to ribbons. But this was a young boy – surely he couldn’t be capable of all that much?
Darius barely managed to block the first swing, and the boy was aggressive. However, after several moments of unflattering close-calls, Darius fell into the proper rhythm. All around them the crowd of young ones hooted and hollered as the largest of them ‘fought’ the wizard, though it was clear after those first few moments – which Darius hoped they would assume he was faking – that the wizard had the upper hand. Finally, he disarmed the boy and used magic to bring the other blade into his hand as well. Smiling – and breathing slightly harder – he passed it back.
“You’re quite good,” he said, hoping it was true. “You’ll make a fine swordsman.” Darius was thankful that not Robert nor any Gryphon had been around to see the little duel. He handed the other practice blade off to another boy. “Run along now, boys. I have work to do.”
They did so, and the older one even smiled and shouted “Thank you, Wizard Darius!”
Before Darius had a chance to move on, though, he heard a voice from behind him. “Heart-warming, Darius, to see you get along with the little ones so well.”
Turning, he was greeted by the sight of three of his fellow wizards.
“Thank you, Callos,” he said with an exaggerated smile for Arric’s lackey. “Future soldiers, and all that. We can’t have them thinking we’re all stodgy old men.”
Callos did not rise to the jibe. “Arric sent me,” he said, which almost made Darius snort at its obviousness. “He needs to speak with you.”
Darius bowed. “I must regrettably decline. I have much to do.”
A smug expression grew on Callos’s face. “Arric said, if that was to be your answer, than you are to be arrested and brought to him. By force if need be.”
Darius’s eyebrows popped up in surprise as he studied the man’s face, and he saw that the two wizards with Callos were standing stiffly, yet almost trembling with anticipation – expecting an attack? They were serious! Darius was delighted – he’d never expected Arric to have the spine for this.
“Well then... lead on!” he said jovially. Whatever waste of time lecture Arric wanted him for, he had earned it. Kray could wait a bit longer.
“He is in the Council Chamber,” Callos said as he turned away. “You can find him yourself.”
Standing perplexed in the middle of the street for the moment, Darius momentarily wondered if he should not ignore Arric anyways. Then again, if he had been pushed far enough to threaten force and mean it, perhaps the insufferable man had something new to say. Turning the opposite way up the next street than he had intended, he headed for the Crown.
There did not seem to be any new emergency occurring. Everyone was acting normally. A thought struck Darius – had Arric found out about Kray? That would be unfortunate. Several times Darius had reconsidered keeping Kray's existence from the High Council, and had always decided that like everything else Arric would not handle the matter properly.
Darius also feared the council may simply hand the man to an Angel to test his sincerity; an experience that was not likely to leave Kray in his right mind. Darius had no wish to see Kray dead or deranged.
Having no other recourse, Darius was forced to accept his least favored tactic – he would wait and see what Arric had to say. At the top of the Crown tower the doors of the Council Chamber were already open, and Arric waited within.
Arric spoke before Darius had a chance. “I see I did manage to gain your attention.”
“Yes, Arric. What do you want?” Darius replied, not wishing to waste any more time than necessary.
With a smile, Arric answered. “At some point tomorrow, I will call a full council session. I do not know exactly the time, because that largely depends upon you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You will make a list of ten names, wizards who you consider skilled and experienced enough to lead a unit like the Gryphons.”
Darius’s face fell. Was Arric trying to make him pick his own replacement? Outrageous! Before he had a chance to protest, the Council Leader continued.
“From this list of ten, the High Council will pick five.”
Arric waited a moment as Darius looked at him suspiciously. “What are you saying, Arric?” he said cautiously.
“I’m saying,
Darius
,” Arric began, imitating the gruff way Darius pronounced his name, “That the Council will shortly form five additional commands to be modeled upon your Gryphons. You will train their leaders – your soldiers will train their men. Furthermore, you and I will work
together
to decide the best and most efficient manner in which these units will be deployed.”
Darius remained silent, unable to believe his own ears. Arric took a breath and forced the next words out quickly enough to betray his unease with them. “I am saying, Darius, that I was wrong. You and your Gryphons have proved their worth time and time again, and I have been remiss in failing to recognize that,” Arric finished in relief.
Twice Darius opened his mouth without actually speaking.
“Thank you, Arric,” he finally managed.
“I’d hoped that in return, you might let the Council in on a bit more of what you do,” Arric said. “And I warn you that I do not intend to let the newly formed units enjoy the autonomy that you have until this point.”
“I would not say I enjoyed it, Arric.” Darius said. “Given the lengths I had to go to obtain it.”
The familiar combativeness had returned to Darius's tone, and a smile tugged at the corner of Arric's mouth.
Darius considered his old rival for a moment. “That must have been very hard.”
“I imagine it would have been the same for you,” Arric said as his face mirrored Darius’s. The two men shared a moment of, if not friendship, at least understanding. “As I said, I will call the council when you have the list complete.”
“I will have it to you by sundown.”
“Splendid. That is all, thank you.”
Such an abrupt end to so momentous a conversation struck Darius as odd, but then again, it was better to part while tacit truce between them was strong. Who knew how long it had taken Arric to come up with the courage to admit his error?
He would have that list by sundown, but right now he needed to see Kray. In the three days since bringing him to Bastion, the sorcerer had already been enormously helpful with the counterspell. The revelations he provided had been endlessly useful.
Chapter Twenty
Kray’s daily attendants now included three wizards at all times. There were a total of five men outside of Darius, Balkan, and Robert who knew of the sorcerer’s existence. They stayed with him long hours, and Darius had lifted the restriction against interrogation, although he was the only one allowed to conduct it as such. The others merely conversed with him during their time together. In the meantime, Kray ate and slept and asked his own questions about Bastion.
When Darius entered the dwelling that night, two of the three guards rushed to meet him at the door, talking over each other. Darius eventually shushed one, the junior of the two, and let the other speak.
“Kray has told us something very important, Darius. We would have fetched you, but you said there were never to be less than three of us here,” said Jotan, a solemn looking man of dark complexion. He took a deep breath, and then it all came out in a rush. “There may be a spy in Bastion, Darius. A wizard, in fact.”
The other one, an eager young man named Alain, spoke up. “Kray didn’t say exactly that, but a number of other things have led us to believe it. First, he – “
Darius cut him off. “Save it, I should hear it from Kray directly.” He brushed past the pair and entered the common room of the house. Kray was there with the other wizard.
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.”