Twixt Heaven And Hell (15 page)

He stopped there, returning his stare to the floor and looking somewhat drained from the retelling. Darius knew he had to say something. An enemy deserved no aid or comfort, but this man was an enemy no longer. With that realization, the words came to him.

“I believe you,” he said. “Welcome to Bastion, Kray.”

By the time Balkan and Robert arrived, Darius was sitting with Kray. The sorcerer was eating; Darius realized they had not given the man much food to go with his diet of herbs on the long trek to the city. Kray was demolishing two days’ worth of soldier’s rations – poor enough fare, but all Darius had close to hand.. Robert took one look at the pair and knew that something had changed drastically since he’d been sent off. Balkan merely looked at the two with a blank face. As a wizard who rarely left Bastion, he was not familiar enough with the Enemy to know them by the sight of their armor alone.

Darius stood. “Balkan, I’d like you to meet Kray,” he began. This got Balkan’s attention – ‘Kray’ was not a name used in Bastion. “He is a recent acquaintance. We met in the Shambles, on a very exciting day.”

Balkan confusedly mouthed ‘the Shambles,’ as he tried to figure out what Darius was hinting at.

“Darius, why are you keeping an enemy soldier prisoner in your home?” Balkan asked. Darius admired his calm, but then his friend had not grasped the whole picture.

With a smile, Darius corrected him. “Not a soldier, Balkan.”

Several feelings shaped Balkan’s countenance in the next few moments. Confusion, disbelief – and finally, anger. Probing spells burst from the usually calm wizard and Kray was surprised to feel someone searching him with magic, but he wisely did nothing.

Balkan withdrew his magic. Dragging Darius over to the doorway where they could speak with a modicum of privacy, he rounded on his friend.

“Why have you brought a sorcerer into Bastion, Darius? Have you truly lost your mind?”

Darius gently removed Balkan’s hand from his sleeve. He had forgotten that, for all Balkan’s age, his relative lack of experience on the battlefield meant that a sorcerer was still a dark, terrible thing to him. Far from simply being the counterpart to a wizard, a sorcerer was the next embodiment of evil below a true Demon, something to be feared and reviled.

“He has joined us, Balkan,” Darius said gently. “He slew another sorcerer right in front of me – he saved my life. Then he killed many of his own soldiers, and surrendered. I am convinced as to his sincerity.”

“Because he killed? Darius, sorcerers love to kill!”

“Not just that, Balkan. I’ve talked to the man. I feel as if I’ve gotten to know him a little.” Darius quickly outlined Kray’s story to Balkan.

The tall wizard’s face seemed permanently set in disbelief now. From Darius’s secrecy to this, the world had taken a bizarre turn for the otherwise steady man.

“A puppy? This man betrays his own people, slaughters soldiers, and risks the wrath and torment of the Demons for a dead puppy? That’s ridiculous, Darius.”

“Is it? Consider, Balkan, what life over there is like. This man cannot be the first weak sorcerer they’ve ever encountered. How many other men have had to endure this ridicule in the past? Yet none of them act. They are immured to it, it is all they know. Something from this man’s past taught him otherwise, pushed him past that point, and brought him to us. Perhaps a child’s memories of a puppy – what could be more innocent? – were just the thing needed to show him that barbarity is evil and worthy of destruction.”

Balkan had lost most of his heat, but Darius saw that he still needed convincing. “To hear this man tell it with his own words, Balkan, is far different than hearing it from me. I believe him, Balkan. I truly do. Please, as a friend, trust my judgment.”

“Darius, your judgment is legendary for its rashness.”

“My intuition, then. Since when has that ever failed me? Failed Bastion?”

Balkan nodded reluctantly. “That is a much better point. Very well, Darius. I will believe you, and believe him, but,” here he leaned close and dropped his voice yet lower. “I urge you to caution. The cost, if we are wrong, will be far to high.”

“Have no fear, Balkan. I consider this man my own responsibility. No harm will come of him.”

Darius breathed a sigh of relief. “It is good to have another wizard who knows of this. As you say, we must be cautious. We need to have this man guarded at all times, and guarded by wizards! I just don’t know where I can find men we can trust. If one of them panics and talks to Arric, who knows what will happen to this man?”

Balkan was looking at Darius in consternation. “Nonsense, Darius. You know just where to find the men you can trust. You should, at least. For years now you’ve had wizards who have supported you in Council with nothing more than words, longing to do more but unable, because you
always
act
alone.
This is their chance. And yours.”

Balkan, as usual, was right. Darius immediately thought of several wizards who had supported him reliably for many years, even before he had formed the Gryphons. “But how do I know which to trust for this?” he wondered aloud.

Balkan answered. “More work for your vaunted intuition, Darius. If I am going to trust it, you had damn well better.”

The abnormality of the situation had driven his friend to cursing. Darius hurried along. “Very well, I can think of a few. Before I… enlist them, however, we need a place to put him. He cannot stay here.” He looked at Balkan, who misinterpreted him.

“No, Darius! I’ll not have him near my family!”

Darius shushed him immediately. “I didn’t mean that! But do you know of anywhere else? I don’t know Bastion as well as you.”

Robert, who – nervous at being alone near the sorcerer – had sidled up next to them during the conversation, offered a suggestion. “You can keep him in my house. No one is likely to find him there.”

Both wizards looked at him. “You have a house, Robert?” asked Darius, puzzled. He’d spent the bulk of the last four years with this man and never known.

“I think you just proved my point, sir. Yes, I have a house. I obtained it just before you picked me as lieutenant for the Gryphons.”

It was a surprise, but a welcome one. The houses of active officers were left completely alone until they returned. Never entered, not even for dusting.

Darius turned to Kray, who had sat docilely throughout the entire discussion. He was staring at them, but without any emotion at anything he might have overheard. He had made his play and his fate was now in the hands of others, and he seemed to know it.

Darius quickly gave Balkan three names, with instructions to politely ask the wizards who belonged to them to meet him at Robert’s house. The sun was sinking towards the horizon like a child’s tired head into the pillow, and Balkan agreed despite wanting to get home to his family.

Once Balkan had gone off on his errand, Robert and Darius found Kray some clothing. Neither man was of a size with the sorcerer, but a mix of clothes donated from each did well enough – and made the man look like any other soldier currently taking his rest in Bastion. They walked with him to Robert’s derelict dwelling, and nobody paid any attention to them along the way.

Balkan had been quick about his work. Each of the three men Darius had requested showed up soon after they arrived at the house, and Darius brought them all inside at once. The men – all younger than himself – were three of Darius’s most reliable advocates, wizards who had similarly become dissatisfied with tradition and the snail’s pace of decision making in the Council. He spoke to them only rarely, but had always counted on their support before. If now were any different, than this venture would surely fail. Kray would be delivered to the Council and interrogated harshly – perhaps by an Angel, and though Darius believed the man to be sincere in his wish to become a ‘man of Bastion’ he had no illusions that in Kray’s past there would certainly be dark deeds.

It said something about his reputation that not one of the wizards he’d invited out of the blue batted so much as an eyelash at what was, Darius had to admit, an outlandish request.

“All you have to do is be here. He claims to be a weak sorcerer, and I believe that he is telling us the truth, but I want at least two of you here at all times. Don’t try to interrogate him. Talk to him all you like, but stay away from strategy, magics, and the like. Try to be friendly. Understood?”

They understood. Darius didn’t really have much of a plan formed. He intended to come back here to ask more questions of Kray, but he had much to do – and Kray, important though he was, unique though he was,  was still less important than developing a counterspell to the enemy magic. Now that he had the man set up for the evening, it was time to acknowledge that.

“I will be back in six hours. You,” he pointed to another man. “Can leave these two here for now and come back to watch with me.” He was giving orders just as he might on the battlefield. The majority of wizards would not have stood for it, but these men seemed almost to enjoy it. “Good. Thank you all, gentlemen. This is a great help for a great task.”

He brought them in to see Kray, and introduced them all. “These men will be your company,” he said lightly. “You have the run of the house, but do not stray outside yet. And Kray, this arrangement is temporary. Please do not take it the wrong way, but – “

Kray interrupted him. “But, you are no fool. I know this – the Warlord would not fear a fool.”

That Traigan may fear him pleased Darius to no end. “Yes, Kray. Thank you. I will return soon.” He turned to the wizards. “Thank you all, again.”

They all nodded and bowed, and one even said, “Rest well, Darius.”

Darius turned to him before he went out the door. “I do not go to rest, my friend. There is still a great deal to be done tonight.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Wizard Borman, at Andreth, has managed to break through the enemy interference with the globes. He reports that they are well and truly surrounded,” Callos announced to the assembled High Council, as well as the several generals who had been invited to attend. “They have insufficient force to break through the ring and escape, but the Enemy has not dared make an attempt on the fortress. Borman has supplies fit to last him several months.”

“We’ll not need to wait that long,” said one of the generals. “Traigan is already moving more soldiers in, that I guarantee.”

A chorus of agreement. Arric nodded as well, and looked towards the general who had spoken. “What do you see as our best options?”

“Bring the soldiers we retreated from the Valley south and retake the Shambles! With help from Fourth Army, and even a sally from Andreth we’ll have them on the run shortly.”

There were more ‘aye’s’ to this, though not as whole-hearted. The Shambles were not an open field and not conducive to large scale, coordinated movement. If both Bastion and Pyre poured reinforcement into the area, it would be a disjointed, bloody battle with an unsure outcome. If it lasted long, raiders from Nebeth would be harassing the supply lines between the fortress and the river. Bastion’s army would be slowly bled down and even if they achieved victory it may be at too great a cost.

All of this was summarized by another of the generals, an older and more cautious man than his peer. Then he made the suggestion that none had yet been brave enough to do. “We could pull Fourth Army out, perhaps make a concentrated attack to evacuate Andreth, and reform the defense further to the west.”

This was tantamount to ceding the Shambles – and Fortress Nebeth – to the Enemy. It would not be the first time the land had switched hands – not even in memory of the men in the chamber. All were loathe to consider it, when only weeks before they were set to fall upon Cairn.

The older man continued. “Traigan has our line segmented and cut up. He has the initiative, and we’ve no easy way to reclaim it. Cutting our losses now will hasten the day when we can take back what we’ve lost here. Furthermore, Pyre has never held the lands beyond the Shambles for long and is not going to have the sorcerers necessary to launch a major attack with their new magic.”

The news about Darius’s triumphant return from the Shambles had spread throughout the Crown in the short time since he had entered the city with his battered and much-reduced Gryphons. He and a number of wizards – all personally chosen by Darius from amongst his supporters, which caused no small amount of muttering – were working on a counterspell but had reported nothing to the High Council.

“We’re lucky even to have the option,” said another general. “The Enemy’s attack would have taken both forts neatly if Wizard Darius hadn’t been in just the right spot to savage their flank assault on Andreth.”

“Perhaps all he’s given us is a vain hope,” Arric said darkly. “A chance to waste more men in trying to hold what we’ve really already lost.”

There was no other thing in the world more sure to put the Council Leader in a snit than the mention of Darius’s name. Unfortunately, the stories now being told by soldiers, officers, and common people were all more or less about his actions before and during the battle for Fort Fist, most of them having been told in the first place by members of the Gryphons to their comrades and listeners over a stein of ale.

“Wizard Arric, you cannot be saying that keeping the Enemy off-balance and gathering the information we need on the teleportation was a mistake?”

Arric burst from his chair and fixed the general with a glare.

“Darius did not fight that battle alone! What about the garrison at Fist who fought to the last man to deny it to our Enemy? What about the scouts and raiding forces from Andreth who went to their aid even through territory that was quickly becoming choked with the Enemy? Enough about Darius, dammit!”

From his seat two places away from Arric, Lazarus noted this outburst with his usual placidity.

Arric sat again, trying to hide his embarrassment at losing his temper. “I want plans on the best way to withdraw Fourth Army – and save the men within Andreth. We will move beyond the range of the enemy’s new trick and plan for a brighter future.”

Callos hurried the meeting along, wanting to get away from the sore subject. “All are agreed, however, as to the Enemy’s next objective. General Owen?”

The elder man stepped forward again, a bit more hesitantly. “Yes. The obvious – the only – target after the Shambles is the utmost northern end of our border. Threeforts valley and Uldoss Pass.”

“Not Uldoss!” protested a wizard from his stone seat. “The Enemy has never held it.”

“Not since we’ve had a fort there, no,” The General allowed. “But we only built that fifteen years ago. It was a well-used route before that and was held by the enemy at times. It is possible they will have sorcerers who know it well enough to lead the spell there.”

“Far too large an area to cover all at once, even in a token defense,” Arric pondered aloud. “Surely he couldn’t take Threeforts all at one go.”

“I don’t think so either, but with what he’s shown us in the past I hesitate to underestimate him. I and several others have come up with an option – strengthen the garrisons as much as possible in each of the forts and every army camp. Now that Dar -” the general cleared his throat and changed what he was going to say – “Now that we know they are vulnerable and disorganized just after appearing through their spell, we should attempt to fall upon them at exactly that time.”

There were arguments, and counter-arguments. Other plans were proposed, and nothing was actually decided except to start moving more soldiers into the valley. After an hour of discussion they adjourned for the evening, and every general and wizard filed out of the room – save one.

Arric saw Lazarus hang back. He waited as well, until the rest of the men had departed, and waited for Lazarus to speak.

He had not long to wait. Lazarus spoke with a force and conviction that Arric had not heard since his own youth, when Lazarus himself had been Council Leader.

“Arric, this pointless feud with Darius must end.”

It was certainly not what the Council Leader had expected. “Feud? There is no -”

“Stop! Arric, be honest with yourself. The Council becomes more and more divided every day. Who is for you, who is for Darius. The officers have avoided taking sides, but will that last? It must end, Arric.”

Arric nodded vigorously. “Indeed it must! But I can hardly do anything about a man who is so blind to reason and discipline, Lazarus. Even you have tried to talk sense into him.”

Lazarus sighed. “Yes, Darius is stubborn. And proud. Even more so than yourself. He is not blind in any sense, though. You, on the other hand…” Another sigh. “Why, Arric, do you continue to deny Darius’s legitimate claims to success? The Gryphons have been invaluable in this war since he gathered them, everyone admits that now. Save you. He marched into the field and a fortnight later returned with exactly what we needed.”

“It was mere chance that put him -” Lazarus cut him off, raising his voice again.

“It cannot always be chance, Arric! This is hardly the first time he’s done such a thing. You must face the facts. Darius’s way works. The Gryphons are a phenomenal success, and everyone who was against it – you, I, most of Council – we were wrong.”

Arric’s situation had him entirely flummoxed. He was not used to being cut off by anybody – save perhaps Darius – and here Lazarus was lecturing him like an acolyte.

“For now, this division has caused little harm. Everyone treats it as a game – but it grows ever more serious. We cannot allow it, Arric. How long before a plan, a good, sound plan is ignored simply because it comes from Darius, or one of his supporters?”

“That would never happen,” Arric protested weakly.

“It already has happened, Arric, with the Gryphons. And it will happen again. As Council Leader, it is your duty to heal this schism before men die for it.”

Up until then, Arric had considered the difficulties that had risen between himself and Darius as a personal matter. He saw now that it had become much more. It had become a rallying point for those with grievances to air, and those dissatisfied with the manner in which the council worked.

Dropping his glance to the floor, Arric wordlessly gave in. A moment later, though, he was staring the man straight in the eye. “Very well, Lazarus. But how am I to ‘heal’ this? Darius has begun ignoring me entirely. He gathers wizards to help him to develop his counterspell and tells the Council nothing.”

Lazarus, his old calm self again, smiled. Then chuckled. “Darius is not a very complicated man, Arric. I will tell you exactly how to begin. How you proceed is, of course, at your discretion. I believe you will do well as long as you remember your primary goal – to make the council work. Darius could, and should, be a valued member of it. Here is what you do...”