Part 12 (1/2)
She had complained to him that he neglected his studies of her father's religion because of political considerations, which was quite true. He thought this was a way of remedying that.
It was nearing midnight when Balandrick's men returned from Ezren. They'd learned that Aidrel had been building his army there for months. ”Hundreds more keep coming every day. Seems this Aidrel sent messengers out all across this part of Khedesh, whipping people into a frenzy about this One G.o.d of his, and that if they wanted to fight a holy war against evil they should come to Ezren.”
”Where is he planning to fight this holy war?” asked Gerin.
”Everyone in Ezren said his eyes are turned toward Threndellen, Your Majesty. They say he constantly talks about the infidels to the north and how they'll cleanse the land with their holy spears until only true believers remain.”
Elaysen made a sound of utter disgust, then wheeled about and stormed off to her tent.
”Balan, I want you to leave a few men here to observe these Helion Spears. If they give any indication that they're going to wage their little war within our borders, I want Aidrel arrested immediately and this army dispersed. I'll write a letter for the men to send to Lord Commander Levkorail with instructions for carrying out my will. If Aidrel resists, kill him. If they don't disperse, kill as many as it takes to drive the point home that I will not tolerate a religious war on Khedes.h.i.+an soil.”
They crossed the Candago River on an old stone bridge on lands claimed and controlled by Khedesh, though it had not always been so. In fact, the region of Pelmae changed hands about once a century, alternating between Khedes.h.i.+an and Threndish control. Those who lived there were a mix of peoples from the two countries, so intermarried by this point that they felt no strong allegiance to either kingdom. Whenever skirmishes broke out for control of the fertile stretch of countryside, the natives simply kept out of the way until the fighting was done, then began paying their taxes and tributes to whatever side emerged victorious.
For the past sixty years Pelmae had been controlled by the Khedes.h.i.+ans, since the Battle of Tarloe's Mill, when the Threndish general Melaisa'odon was soundly defeated in a three day battle that ended with the near total destruction of the Threndish forces in the fields surrounding the eponymous mill. The bridge that Gerin and his company crossed stood within easy sight of the mill, which had survived the battle virtually untouched.
Balandrick did not want them to keep to any roads. As soon as they crossed the bridge, they set out toward the northwest, pa.s.sing farming fields and homesteads. They did not light fires and kept careful watches at night. The wizards set up tocsin spells beyond the perimeter set by the Taeratens to alert them should any people approach.
One evening at dusk, the sky ahead of them lit up with flash after flash of lightning. It was an odd sight since the sky above was clear except for a few thin wisps of clouds. The lightning struck a small area, as if drawn by something on the ground.
”Something seems wrong with that storm,” said Gerin to the other two wizards. ”Look at that lightning.” He invoked a Seeing, but the spell revealed no magical power or anything unnatural about it.
”Looks fine to me,” said Abaru. ”It's just a small storm.”
”It does seem a little strange, but nothing to worry about,” said Hollin. ”It's not coming this way.”
They witnessed one final crack of lightning, then the sky was silent and still.
”There, it's already pa.s.sed,” said Abaru.
Gerin said nothing, but he could not shake the strong feeling that something about the lightning had been unnatural, wrong.
The following evening, Gerin was almost asleep when he heard a commotion outside his tent.
Someone was approaching their camp.
He found the two wizards already conferring with Balandrick. ”Someone tripped our tocsin spells,” said Hollin.
”Where?” asked Gerin.
Balandrick pointed westward. They all started in that direction when a soldier ahead of them called out, ”I have him!”
Three Khedes.h.i.+ans escorted a lone man to the center of the encampment. Gerin was startled by the sight of him.
He was naked, but seemed neither concerned nor embarra.s.sed by his lack of clothing. But almost more startling than his nakedness was the absolute perfection of his body. Lean, well-muscled, his skin pale and unblemished, with no scars of any kind that Gerin could see.
He did not look deranged, and was obviously well fed and in peak physical health. Then why is he wandering the countryside without any clothes?
”What brings you here?” said Balandrick. ”Were you robbed? Are you injured?”
”No. I am quite well.” His voice was deep, strong. He did not speak with a Threndish accent; indeed, he spoke with no discernable accent at all. He sounded almost amused. Several times he glanced at his own hands as if marveling at them.
”Someone get him clothes,” said Balandrick. He gestured for the soldiers to keep him at some distance from Gerin. ”What's your name?”
”My perceptions here are quite amazing,” he said. ”Much different from what I had expected.”
Maybe he is mad, thought Gerin. A lunatic escaped from a prison.
”Greetings, Gerin Atreyano.”
The sound of steel rang out as soldiers drew their swords and pointed them at the stranger.
”How do you know my name?”
A soldier arrived with a robe that he tossed to the stranger, who regarded it as if unsure of what it was. Then he pulled it on over his head.
”The servants of the Adversary have begun to meddle in the affairs of the world,” he said. ”Your sword, the one that pierces the heart of this mortal realm, and the opening of the Path of Ashes, have altered the world in such a way that the Adversary's powers are growing much faster than they had been.”
The hair on Gerin's arms and the back of his neck stood on end. ”How do you know these things? Who are you?”
The stranger smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. ”I am Zaephos,” he said, ”messenger of the One G.o.d.”
13.
Drexos had been right about one thing. Using the Stone made him sleep.
The connection was constantly with Tyne now. When he blinked he could sometimes see flashes of the dragons as they winged across the sky on their way to him. At first the images were so disorienting that he stumbled and at times fell. He tried to stop them, but could not. Apparently, the connection could not be constricted, at least that he could find.
He did grow used to the images so that they no longer impaired him and marveled at how a body could acclimate itself to the most extreme circ.u.mstances.
When he concentrated, he could close his eyes and spend long minutes among the dragons. The sense of vertigo he'd experienced from having a vantage point so high in the air and moving so swiftly also lessened over time.
But the price for such time spent using the connection was sleep.
When the fatigue washed over him, he staggered to the closest place that offered concealment-usually a stand of trees, as these lands were flat and open-and collapsed. He had no way of knowing how long he slept, but it often felt like days. He had strange dreams, not only of the dragons, but of Drexos and his shadow-wreathed form, which inspired only terror and dread in him. He dreamed sometimes of the figure within the Stone, a thing that raged against its prison.
Tyne was ravenous when he woke. He needed more food, and spent some time hunting and dressing his kills so he could replenish his provisions.
He pa.s.sed a handful of villages and towns on his journey eastward and continued to make discreet inquiries about the bronze demon, but the trail was still cold. He did not tarry in most places, preferring to sleep alone in some secluded spot away from people. He feared that others would somehow sense the Stone and try to steal it from him.
He did, however, stop at taverns from time to time to listen to the locals and spend some of his precious coin on an occasional beer. He wondered if he might overhear a snippet of conversation about the bronze demon that the taverngoers would be reluctant to share with an obvious foreigner when he inquired directly. He was always given suspicious looks when he asked about the demon-whether because of his accent, the subject of his inquiry, or both, he could not say. But he worried that even if they knew something, they would not tell him out of spite.
In one tavern in a town whose name he did not know, he overheard a conversation that made his heart skip a beat and a chill run down his spine.