The Betrayed (40 page)

Three days earlier, Roalas had surrendered. The bombardment of heads and penises seemed to have convinced even the staunch-hearted, ferocious Feorans that prolonging their stubborn and futile resistance would only result in a horrible massacre of unprecedented scale.

Adam was not a fool. No matter how avidly he desired the death of every man and woman in the city, he had stayed the hands of his butchers. For the first time in this long, brutal campaign, his enemies were starting to show wit, not just as small groups of terrified fools, but as a whole, the concept of the invincibility of Feorans torn and shattered and the new one, of the invincibility of Adam, born and growing.

Thus, instead of laying waste to Roalas, he had merely placed it under curfew, instructing all armed Caytoreans to lay down their weapons and await further instructions. With the exclusion of several sporadic fights with stubborn defenders in some of the city’s districts, the city had yielded peacefully.

His men were angry and frustrated, but they knew better than to disobey his orders. His reputation was a legend now, all across Caytor and Eracia. No sane man crossed Adam the Godless.

The mercenaries had protested most of all, infuriated that all the fine, sweet spoils were left untouched, just out of the reach of their avaricious, treacherous hands. With the sell-souls, Adam had been far less forgiving. He had hung a dozen of them before the growls and shouts of their dissent had subsided to apologetic murmurs.

Everyone was tense, the people, the soldiers. All except Adam. He was as calm as only a dead man could be. He had no doubts, no qualms, no regrets. The life was such a simple, straightforward affair.

They all knew his speech was going to be something phenomenal, monumental. The citizens of Roalas would learn if they were going to live today. The Carrion Eaters would learn if there were going to be any carrion for dinner.

Adam stood and waited. Very soon, close to fifty thousands souls were gathered about him. He knew his voice would not carry far in the rain, but he trusted good ole rumor to take its wing. Within an hour, everyone would know what he wanted.

The people jostled and pushed, encircled by a wall of steel. Most of the Eracian army was not participating in this event. The regiments were building fortifications all around Roalas, establishing new strongholds and barracks for the troops. Winter was coming.

Soon, the marches would become a nightmare of icy slush and ferocious winds. Food supplies were scarce. Adam had no intention of starving his army to death. Roalas would safely house them all through the cold months of the new year. It would be a great opportunity to rest and rearm before launching a new campaign in the spring. By then, Roalas would become a major center of operations, the staging area from which he could command the war.

It would also give him an opportunity to negotiate with the Caytorean nobility. Lord Erik’s spies had brought him messages from the High Council of Trade, which both praised his actions and asked for consideration of future business. Adam hadn’t dismissed their pleas.

He would establish the legitimacy of his legend in more than one way. Sitting through the winter would mark Roalas as a permanent monument of Adam’s conquest. But trade and political recognition were even more important. They would be the official statement of his victory.

Adam was not a great statesman, but Lord Erik seemed to be. His advice was sound. Longtime enemies could be friends after all, if banded together against a common threat.

“Such a sordid day,” Adam began, silencing the crowd around him. He smiled. He could see his words spreading in a wave across the sea of humans.

“But it is a great day, nonetheless. You probably ask yourself why we are gathered here. Well, Roalas is now mine. I have taken it from Feor, struggled it out of his reach.”

He waited. There were no murmurs of outrage, only deadly silence. “I’m here to offer you a chance to redeem your souls. For the past twenty years, you have been led astray, made to believe in a false idea called Feor, an infatuation that you see now melting at your feet.

“To call Feor a god, a false god, would be misleading. He is nothing but a sad joke, a prank. You have lived the last two decades worshipping another group of fools. Beforehand, those were the patriarchs and matriarchs who fooled you with empty promises and threats of punishment from gods none of you have ever seen. And then, the Feorans came, offering you freedom from the old yoke in exchange for a new one. And what have you done? You’ve taken it, like cattle.”

Adam turned to face another segment of the broad circle around him. He could hear hushed whispers multiplying, an echo of his words, lashing though the throng.

“And what did the Feorans offer you? More fear, more doubts, new false hopes. You were still being told what to do by other people calling themselves priests, just like their predecessors, preaching in the name of some unseen, unknown entity.

“Where has this belief led you? To a defeat. A colossal defeat. Your mighty armies have been crushed by Eracian peasants. Caytorean cities have not been taken by an enemy force for countless generations. Yet, today, Roalas is an Eracian stronghold, in the heart of Caytor.”

He turned again. “Feor is nothing but a lie. Just another lie. He is nothing but a tale, invented by other people to control you, to use you. And you, poor fools, you have accepted it. You let them rape your minds.”

Adam shook his head. “I’m here to offer you a choice, the first real choice in your miserable lives.”

He lifted his arms aloft. “Forsake Feor and all the other god and goddesses. They do not exist. They are fictional. Embrace the law of men, the creed built by fire and sword. Embrace disbelief in its fullest. Embrace reason.”

The former prostitute from Paroth lowered his arms. “Look at me. I hold your lives in my grip. I control your fate. Whether you live or die today is my choice. Mine. For all practical purposes, I am your god today. And I’m just another man like everyone else.

“You can stop believing in nonsense and become people of reason and law. My law. You will be my citizens, and I will protect you from evil and hunger. I cannot promise you any miracles. It will be a hard life I offer you, full of misery and pain. And you will never be truly your own masters. There will always be someone bigger and stronger than you telling you what to do. But at least your souls will be free. You will pay no tribute to anyone for your sins and lies. You will ever only answer the law for your crimes.”

Adam waved violently. “You may wonder why I have given you this offer. Well, it’s simple. You have seen the futility of belief in one horde of gods once already. You’ll be able to do it the second time so much more easily. You know what false promises and hopes are.”

Silence. Utter silence. Only the wind and the rain. But no human spoke. Adam knew most of his soldiers were battling the same dilemma. Adam had no doubt what their choice would be. They believed in him more than anything or anyone else, the culmination of human nature at its best.

“If you decide to forsake Feor, you will be allowed to live, stay in your homes, and retain your property and your businesses and your fields. You will be my people.”

Something incredible happened. Someone raised a hand in the crowd. Adam looked down at the supplicant, a simple man in simple clothes, a hero by all standards.

“Permission to…ask you a question, my lord?”

Adam nodded. “Go ahead.”

“We have been given promises before, by Feorans and the…patriarchs before them. How can we know what you tell is truth now?”

Adam smacked his lips. “What’s your name?”

The man saluted awkwardly. “Jerome, a blacksmith, my lord.”

Adam smiled. It was true what they said about blacksmiths. They forged more than just iron; they forged wisdom. “I have no divine bribes to offer you, no fears of retribution should you refuse to believe my words. As one man to another, all I can offer you is my best guess, my desire. I wish to see this world rid of empty belief, of the filth of divinity which people use to cover up for their vile crimes. No woman has ever been raped in the name of mankind, always in the name of the gods. Mothers would abandon their children and blame the gods. Where are the gods for them? Do gods only serve the rich and powerful? Where is Feor when you need him today?”

Adam turned to face the crowd again. “I’m offering you the same filth, the same pain, the same shit you’ve been eating your whole lives. But it has no flavor of gods. Only the simple human taste of crap.”

The fervor of tension felt like a solid wall of thick, sweaty air. The people before him would either see reason or turn to a river of blood. There was no other way. There was no going back.

“If you still believe in Feor, stay on your feet. Everyone else, kneel and acknowledge me as your ruler.”

Slowly, the forest of humans went down, one after another. There was no one left standing.

Adam clapped once. That was settled then. “Rise, citizens of Roalas, the first free city.”

Back in his pavilion, Adam sat in front of a brazier, trying to warm up his body. The hours of standing in the cold had exhausted him.

Lord Erik sat on a chair not far away, drinking some wine, looking slightly pale and worried. His grandson was playing with a wooden horse on the carpets, lost in some world of his own.

“You look tired,” Adam noted.

The grandfatherly figure smiled softly. “Nothing major. Just a bit of a cold.”

Adam threw a pair of drenched socks in front of the coals. They hissed and smoked. “Any news?”

Lord Erik coughed. “Indeed. The council is relieved to hear of your success. The fall of Roalas allows them to pull away their private armies from central Caytor and move into Eybalen. They intend to snuff out the last wisps of the Feoran plague and restore the city to their rule.”

Adam wrapped another blanket around his shoulders. “What about the forces in the Territories?”

Lord Erik grimaced. “That cannot be helped now. The Territories will be overrun. The reign of the old gods and goddesses will be destroyed. But this is something the council has hoped for, for a very long time. The removal of religion from politics is a very important achievement.”

The commander of the Carrion Eaters was not fully convinced. “I would still like to go after them and crush them.”

“You would abandon your strategic victory here, then. The nobles would no longer feel compelled to negotiate with you. They might even try to regain the lost land. And you would merely be helping the patriarchs survive. It would undo your gains in the last six months.”

Lord Erik rose slowly. He looked exhausted. “This way you enjoy the favor of the Eracian monarch, you have the fear and respect of Caytorean merchants and nobility, the Territories will be destroyed, all religion significantly weakened, and the Feorans would stay trapped between Eracia and Parus, with a mighty enemy keeping them from returning to Caytor. You will have removed the poison of the Movement from the realms, trapped it in a neutral land. What more could you ask for?”

“I wonder what the monarch would try to do.”

Lord Erik shook his head. “I believe he will move more of his forces into the Territories, strengthening the border region. Who knows, he might even try to take the Territories completely, at least the eastern provinces.”

“And what about the war in the north?”

“Another good thing. The nobles will have to divide their forces between watching you, exterminating the Feoran rebellion, and making sure the rest of the Eracians do not invade. This would keep them busy, allowing you to continue with your peace campaign without interruptions. This might even lead to some permanent sort of an agreement between the realms. You might become the instigator of the first real peace treaty between Eracia and Caytor ever.”

Adam stretched back on the hard cot. “I still fail to understand why you want me to succeed so much.”

Lord Erik sighed. “An ever-thinking mind. I have told you many times. I see the threat of religion as far more significant than simple human affairs. Religion is the seed of evil in the realms. You may have taken a parcel of my country, but the benefits are huge. Instead of seeing Caytor deteriorate into civil war, we will be free of the yoke of the houses and the Movement. Our trade will blossom. We will be a smaller nation, but more powerful than ever.”

Adam tried to sip wine while prone, finding it difficult. He sat up. “Sounds reasonable.”

“Definitely. Oh, there’s one more thing.”

Adam stiffened. Lord Erik never brought trifle news. “What is it?”

“My spies report a huge Parusite army in the south of the Territories, moving north and east. Toward you. I believe King Vlad has heard of your conquests and feels extremely jealous. He’s not the kind to take another’s successes lightly.”

“Sounds like a nutjob,” Adam offered.

“He is that, but he does command close to fifty thousand warriors. They will prove a terrible threat to your army. After all, they outnumber you almost two to one.”

Adam smiled. “Then this calls for some really cunning strategy on my behalf.”