Shadow of the Otherverse (The Last Whisper of the Gods Saga Book 3) (13 page)

* * *

At this stage, what constituted failure? That question was foremost in Carannan’s mind as he rode his horse at the head of a long, meandering column of weary men and women. Some were afoot and others rode in wagons that looked ready to collapse. This was all that remained of the city where he had spent most of his adult life, where he had brought up a beautiful daughter and cultivated a life. He tried not to think too hard about what he had lost; the resulting anger would do no one any good. Long before he had become a leader, he had learned the importance of clear-headedness.

Eventually, this would culminate in another battle and he would do what duty required: fight, much as he had at Vantok. This time, however, he wouldn’t be fooled into believing that equal troop numbers meant an even chance. Having witnessed firsthand the disaster at Vantok, he found it difficult to believe that even the legendary army of Obis would be able to withstand Justin. The wild card might be Sorial but, while The Lord of Earth was certainly someone to be reckoned with, every confrontation left him more battered and bruised. Could Sorial and Alicia face down a half-score djinn, a dragon, Justin, and Ariel? That was asking a lot from two untried wizards.

Carannan expected to die in the cold North. If fate was kind to him, he would sell his life dearly, bringing many enemies to the grave alongside him. But he might as easily be felled by an arrow or a revolver ball before engaging the enemy. Such were the vagaries of battle. He supposed the option to desert remained open but responsibility was too ingrained in his bones for him to run and he had no desire to live in a world remade by The Lord of Fire.

“Getting this lot through Widow’s Pass is going to be a nightmare,” remarked Gorton, who had recently joined Carannan at the fore. Warburm, Rexall, and Ferguson were bringing up the rear. In between, the hundreds of hale members of Vantok’s militia were dispersed at regular intervals to keep the peace and provide protection should it be needed. “The damn column’s nearly two miles long and we’re moving at a snail’s pace. Before we left, I figured maybe twenty miles a day. At this rate, we’ll be lucky to cover half that.”

“It’s a damn long trip,” acknowledged Carannan. “I can’t help but wonder if a better course of action might have been to hole up in some out-of-the-way place in the South.”

“It’s not as if we didn’t present Her Majesty with the option. She feels that once she’s in control of Obis, the safest place for her people… all her people… will be behind those walls.”

“How safe will that really be, though? Do you think Obis can stop Justin?”

“Not without help from Sorial and Alicia and a helluva lot of luck. Those walls will stand up to almost any conventional attack but not djinn-hurled fireballs and buffeting by a dragon. And as good as the troops are, they’ll be facing a force the likes of which they’ve never imagined. I think Obis will put up a stronger defense than Vantok and Justin’s pets won’t be a surprise this time around, but I doubt that will change the result. Still, it’s our only hope and we have to take it or prepare to be The Lord of Fire’s subjects.”

“Sorial thinks this is about more than conquest. He thinks it’s a pretext for something darker.”

“When it comes to magical matters, I bow to his expertise because I’ve got none. Until a few seasons ago, I thought wizards were creatures of legend. But I’ve seen and heard enough since coming to Vantok to have my preconceptions realigned. That’s another challenge Myselene will face in Obis. As if taking the throne wasn’t a daunting enough task, she’ll have to convince the army that they’re about to face creatures out of story books. Hopefully, she’ll get some help from the soldiers who made the trip to Vantok and saw some unusual things while they were there. It may be that Sorial will have to provide another demonstration.”

“Does Myselene have what it takes to seize the throne?”

“Successions in Obis can be messy even when there’s a clear line. Myselene has a strong claim, perhaps the best, but that doesn’t mean anything. The boldest, strongest candidate will sit on the throne when the struggle is over, and he often gets there by wading through the blood of his enemies. This will be a test Myselene never expected to face.”

“Can a woman emerge on top?”

“It’s true that Obis is a patriarchal society but there have been queens before. It’s a matter of resolve and Myselene has plenty of that.”

“And if she fails?”

“Then, Overcommander, two new bodies will decorate the central square’s gibbets and whatever slim chance we have of defeating Justin will vanish into the ether.”

* * *

It was hard to accept that the face of the man staring up at him with an expression of naked fear belonged to his brother - the same brother who, as a young man, had taunted and bullied Justin. He had never felt much along the lines of filial affection for Duke Roblek of Cathman Estates, but there were times when blood ties could be useful. After all, it was better to turn over control of the city to someone with whom he could claim a kinship.

Figuring out what to do with Basingham now that he had it was more difficult than going through the actual process of getting it. The so-called “battle” had resulted in exactly one death on his side - some idiot who, in the act of looting, fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck. The casualty list on the other side was significantly higher. One out of every ten able-bodied men had been put to the sword and a like number of women pressed into duty servicing men in Justin’s army. Some of them had died at the hands of the more uncouth members of his fighting force. But this was war and the penalties for losing were harsh.

It hadn’t been necessary to call on the djinn or the dragon. The gates had swung wide to admit Justin’s army and he had been greeted by Basingham’s commanders laying down their swords. They were all dead now, of course, incinerated in a show of mercy by The Lord of Fire. Like the execution of the five hundred, it had been an object lesson. The majority of the remaining four-thousand plus would join Justin’s troops and march with him against Earlford. Their good behavior was doubly assured. Not only were desertion and insubordination harshly punished, but Justin held their families as ransom. The repercussions for an infraction would be visited not only on the man committing it but on his wife, children, brothers, sisters, and parents. Justin didn’t care if the new “recruits” believed in his cause; his only concern was that they fight for him. His army now numbered eleven thousand. Bigger than it had been at Vantok, but not yet sufficient to contend at Obis. That would change after Earlford and Syre. 

Of course, neither Sorial nor Alicia was here, despite Uthgarb’s assurances to the contrary. Justin hadn’t expected them to be. Also missing was Myselene; he knew from Ferguson that she was with Sorial on a direct route to Obis. He was passingly disappointed that circumstances had disallowed an orderly transition from the previous regime, but at least King Durth was no longer in a position to challenge Justin’s preeminence. The unfortunate Uthgarb hadn’t survived long enough to fail at fulfilling his pledge. The body, which had been run through by some sort of gruesome blade, was in a state of rapid decay by the time Justin viewed it.

“Brother,” said Justin, his smile rapacious. “So good of you to attend me.” Not that the holder of his late father’s title had been given a choice. Justin was The Lord of Fire and the city’s conqueror. That made Basingham’s citizens his pawns. Now to decide how best to use them…

“Your Majesty… it’s been a long time. We all thought you were dead.”

Your Majesty. Interesting for him to use that title. A shrewd man.

“I very nearly was but, even in their passing, the gods had different plans for me. I trust you had a nice mourning ceremony. Praise from Father. Tears from Mother. That sort of thing.”

“Uh… Truth be told, Brother, I can’t remember.”

Well, at least he was being honest. Justin found that strangely refreshing. About the only one to have offered honesty recently was Sorial.

“Do you know why I called you here?”

Roblek swallowed then shook his head in the negative.

Always keep them guessing
. His father had once mentioned it to be the first rule of diplomacy. Of course, his father and mother were no more. Unlike Prelate Ferguson, they hadn’t been granted the gift of extreme longevity.

“It’s come to my attention that King Durth elected to abdicate his position as ruler of Basingham. Then, on an excursion up the coast, he broke his neck when thrown from a horse. Terrible tragedy, but those things happen when old men ride at unsafe speeds.” No need to mention that a djinn had spooked the horse, causing the fatal incident. “Although it’s true that the throne belongs to me by right of conquest, I find the one in Vantok to be more comfortable. Thicker padding and such things have meaning for a prematurely aged body like mine. In addition, my campaign to unite the cities is not yet complete and likely won’t be for several more seasons. In my absence, I need someone to control this city as my viceroy. Ambassador Uthgarb applied for the position but he appears to have met with an unfortunate accident. So I thought perhaps you, Brother, might be interested. After all, Father once remarked that you had a head for ruling.” The exact quote had been:
My shit-for-brains eldest son has no sense and an inflated opinion of himself - two qualities often found in this city’s ruling class
.

Roblek licked his lips twice, trying to figure out whether he had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime or whether, by accepting, he would be walking into a trap.

Justin decided to allay his fears, if only a little. Much as he enjoyed toying with a brother who had caused him only grief as a child, the fact was that he needed an interim ruler here and the blood-tie would strengthen his grip on Basingham in absentia. Depending on what happened in the North and in the Otherverse, he might never return. Or there might not be a Basingham to return to. Despite what he had asserted to Ferguson, there was a real possibility that his entering the Otherverse might trigger a cataclysm. It was of no import to him - his death was a near-term certainty - but it mattered very much to the prelate.

“I haven’t forgotten the contention between us as children, Roblek, and I can’t say it’s left me kindly disposed toward you. You were mean and spiteful and picked at me as if I was a scab to be bloodied and scratched away. But time has changed us both and I need someone reliable to act as custodian of Basingham. Who better than the highest ranking member of my family?”

“Might I have a little time to consider? To consult with my wife and…”

Justin cut him off. “No. I require an answer now.”
And if you say “no,” I’ll have you strung up like a common thief
. He wondered if his brother recognized that there was no choice involved here.

“Very well, I accept.” The words were spoken with more than a little trepidation.

“Excellent!” declared Justin. Turning to Ariel, who stood to the left and slightly behind the throne, he said, “I told you he’d be delighted.”

She didn’t respond. In fact, she hadn’t uttered more than a handful of words since returning to his side yesterday. Something about her was different and he found it difficult to discern what. There was little doubt that she was physically diminished - at this point, probably even closer to the grave than he was - but it was more than that. The experience of having been tricked, defeated, and trapped for so long had withered the flame of energy and ambition that once burned so brightly. She was a shell, both physically and mentally, of the woman she had been as recently as a season ago. He was no longer sure he could rely on her for what was to come. In fact, he wasn’t certain she would live long enough to play her role in his assault on the Otherverse, and that meant he would have to at least consider contingency plans. Her loyalty and experience were valuable qualities but more was required. He needed power and that might be something she was no longer able to provide.

No rest for the weary
. Now that the rulership of Basingham was secured, at least for the short-term, it was time to move forward with his campaign.

“My army will encamp here for a week to allow life in the city to re-commence under my regime.” Justin’s words were directed at his brother but the hundreds packing the audience hall listened in rapt attention. Rarely had such a large crowd been so quiet. “At that time, I’ll depart for Earlford. Before I leave, I’ll provide you with a list of specific instructions. Be sure that you follow them diligently. Ruling a city has many benefits, Viceroy, as long as you remember that your rule is contingent on your loyal and competent stewardship.”

The trip from Basingham to Earlford would be long and grueling, although not as physically taxing as the journey out of The Forbidden Lands to Vantok. Justin intended to avoid the mountains and great forests that blocked a direct route. Instead, he planned to head northeast along the coast then take the Great East-West Road across the continent. At about twenty-five miles per day, it would be a long march. Nevertheless, six weeks from now, he expected to be sitting in a chair very much like this one in the Great Palace of Earlford. At that time, his conquest of the South would be complete but the most challenging parts of his overall endeavor would still be to come.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE VOID

If Alicia was going in the right direction, she felt confident she would reach the Yu’Tar Library soon. The nagging worry was that it might be somewhere other than where she expected it to be. Weren’t there stories that hinted of the “great wizards’ library” moving from place-to-place magically? In that case, the “directions” supplied by Ferguson might be useless.

In the short span of two days and one night, she had become comfortable in the strange confines of the forest. There was enough water all around to give her a sense of security and, after her encounter with the big cat, no other creature had approached her. She wondered if the animals of the forest possessed a means of communication and, once it was learned that she had killed one near the top of the food chain, the others had stayed away. They were out there, to be sure - the world under the trees was teeming with life. Her magical senses told her as much, but none sought to make a meal of her.

She still couldn’t reach Sorial and the silence represented an increasing source of concern. She assumed that, one way or another, the water forming the mirror had been spilled. Even if he was traveling, she believed that, had the mirror been intact, at least one of her attempts would have reached him. However, over the course of the two days since she reached this continent, more than a dozen tries had resulted in failure. The loss of communication didn’t necessarily mean something had gone horribly wrong but it did little to bolster Alicia’s confidence.

Her thoughts weren’t perpetually gloomy, however. She wasn’t by nature that kind of person. As a child, Vagrum had often called her his “cheerful imp.” Once in a while, an incongruous idea would occur to her, such as what her mother might say if she could see her daughter wandering around naked in such a dirty, dank place. She laughed aloud envisioning Lady Evane’s expression of shock and dismay. Her father, she thought, would be more practical about the whole thing, although he would likely avert his eyes out of a concern for her modesty - a characteristic that was by now in tatters. In truth, she would have felt more comfortable in a skirt and blouse but she was no longer nervous about wearing only her skin.

The lack of clothing had been harshest on her feet. Unaccustomed to walking long distances barefoot, her flesh was sore from dozens of small scratches and nicks. Using magic to heal such minor injuries wasn’t the best solution since the re-knit flesh was often tender and itchy. Unlike her husband’s heavily calloused feet, which were as tough as shoe leather, her soles were as soft as would be expected from someone whose primary experience with unshod feet was in bed at night. Fortunately, the forest floor was relatively forgiving with large swaths of ground carpeted by a soft, spongy moss. Alicia had used one of those patches for her bedding last night; it had proven almost comfortable.

The moisture-laden air was cool but her affinity for water kept her body temperature steady. Her flesh was beaded with condensation from the humidity and it rained frequently, the water more often dripping than coming down in sheets. She knew the upper branches of the giant trees were in constant sunlight but, down here, it never grew brighter than a dim gray. After dark, it was black without even the scarce illumination of stars to light the way, although Alicia’s magically enhanced vision allowed her to see clearly in such a wet environment. But the strangeness of the forest had kept her on edge all through the previous night.

She was determined not to give in to fear - especially not of invisible, insubstantial terrors. This was her opportunity to prove her worth, something she hadn’t done at Vantok. Her failure in the battle rankled like a splinter. She recalled her performance with shame. The citizens and army had relied on her as a bulwark against a fearsome opponent and she had been proven unworthy. Her presence had changed nothing. Perhaps a few more of the enemy had died but, in the end, it had mattered little. How different might things have been if Sorial had defended the city in her place?
This
was her chance at redemption. If she could plunder the Yu’Tar Library’s secrets and uncover some great truth that resulted in Justin’s defeat, the stain would be scrubbed clean.

She found a moss-covered log and rested for a moment. Moving through the leaden air was exhausting in a way Alicia never would have expected. She rubbed her abraded, bleeding soles as she skimmed her concentration across the surrounding environs, questing out with her magical senses, seeking for hidden dangers and a sign that her quest was nearing its end. This wasn’t the first time she had failed to detect any sign of the Yu’Tar Library but, if it was somehow shielded, perhaps that wasn’t surprising.

There was a region to the south that defied her probing. It was like a void; she could neither see nor feel anything water-related in a small, well-defined area. This, she surmised, was as likely a location as any for the library, so it represented her destination. She approached with some trepidation, however; anything capable of resisting her senses was worthy of respect and caution. Unless something unexpected arose to impede her progress, she expected to reach the locale tomorrow.

There was something else in the forest. She had first sensed it earlier in the day but, as she progressed southward, the scent - for lack of a better term - had grown stronger and more distinctive. It was a hint of something charred, the flavor of fire. Her normal senses wouldn’t have detected it but her magic identified Justin’s unmistakable odor. He had been here, and recently. Alicia couldn’t pinpoint an exact time but she guessed no more than a week and perhaps only a day or two. More disturbing than the realization that The Lord of Fire had made recent use of the Yu’Tar Library - it made sense considering he was a literate wizard - was the recognition that he had discovered a traveling “shortcut” to and from this continent. She was sure that whatever he could do with fire, she could do with water, but she couldn’t work out how it might be accomplished. She supposed it was an expansion on the concept of the mirror she had planned to use for communication with Sorial, but it was a much different thing to move mass than sound. Or was it?

Her rest completed, she continued her southward march, maintaining a measured pace until the light failed. She set up camp, which demanded nothing more than finding and tidying a nice bed of moss. After drinking from a nearby brook and coaxing a few fish into her hand for a quick meal, she lay down and closed her eyes. The world around her was alive with strange noises and, if she chose to look, she could perceive life all around her - some benign, some dangerous. As on the previous night, the creatures avoided her. She didn’t think anything would approach and, if it did, the water all around would alert her.

She awoke in the early hours of the morning in a cold sweat, her body impaled by a sense of
wrongness
. For the briefest of moments, she couldn’t remember where she was and, awash in panic, she almost cried out. Then reason returned but the wrongness was still there, close and palpable. It took little thought or effort to put a name to it: The Lord of Fire. He was here. No longer the echo of a presence several days past. Justin was in the forest at this moment, close by. If she was aware of him, was it much of a stretch to believe him to be cognizant of her?

His exact location was impossible to pinpoint, which was strange. Perhaps he was doing something to disguise himself. She suspected he could be close enough to strike at her if that was his intention. She rose, stealthy as a cat, and began moving, believing that remaining stationary made her an easier target. Still heading southward, she angled her path toward the edge of the forest overlooking the sheer drop into the raging ocean. The closer she was to water, the better her chance of surviving this - whatever
this
was.

As she walked, she probed all around her, sweeping the area with her magical senses. She couldn’t determine whether Justin was in front of her, behind her, to her left or right, only that he was near. She was also frustrated by the “dead” area straight ahead - the void into which she couldn’t penetrate. She wondered with not inconsiderable nervousness what might happen if and when she entered it.

“My Lady of Water.” The voice was surprisingly strong and clear, cordial yet devoid of warmth. “We haven’t been properly introduced although we met tangentially when you tried to drown my forces at Vantok. They call me The Lord of Fire but you may address me as Justin, the name my parents bestowed on me. It reeks of hubris to ask another wizard to use a title meant for ordinary humans. I felt it only fair that we speak at least once before one of us ends the existence of the other as must happen in these circumstances. You and your mate have proven to be far more tenacious opponents than I expected. I only wish circumstances had allowed us to be allies instead of enemies.”

The voice emanated from all around her, almost as if there were a dozen Justins speaking at once. She knew it was a magical trick but knowing did little to blunt its impact. She began running, heading for the cliff and the void at the point where they met.

“Am I so fearsome that you must run away?” The tone was vaguely mocking.

She said nothing, refusing to be drawn into whatever game he was playing. Cats and mice - the bigger, superior one toying with the other. If she hadn’t disliked the rodents so intensely, she might have acknowledged the feline’s actions as sadistic. Once in a while, she knew, a mouse would slip away, but she couldn’t recall a single instance in which it turned things around and devoured the cat. Her move here wasn’t to engage Justin; it was to get away from him. If she could reach the sea…

Suddenly, an inferno erupted all around her. Searing fire lit everything aflame, including the earth. Survival instinct-fueled reflexes saved her. Involuntarily, she threw up a shield of water to keep her body from being incinerated. Even within the envelope of protection, she could feel the heat. As she ran, steam swirled around her. Despite the pervasive damp and rain, trees caught on fire. The jungle was ablaze. Alicia ran faster than she had ever believed possible, the blackness around her transformed into a hellish reddish-orange. Nearby denizens of the forest screamed in agony as they were devoured by Justin’s magical conflagration.

“I can make this easy for you. It doesn’t have to be this way.” The voice was conversational, taunting her with its banal tone. “Join Sorial in peace. He fought bravely at Basingham. Took down half of my djinn corps as well as the dragon. What a tremendous sight it was - earth and fire warring in the skies, the great beast smashed by a boulder the size of a mountain. Sorial’s last stand will surely become a story worthy of passage to future generations. If you had been there, he might have prevailed. But, in the end, it was too much for one person, even one with access to magic. I dealt the final blow myself, a salute to a fallen foe. With his dying breath, he thought only of you. ‘Be merciful to her,’ he pleaded. And I’ll honor that wish. Mercy such as I gave to him, as I gave to Azarak, as I would give to any worthy adversary: a quick, painless death. A purifying death by fire.”

The words stabbed like a knife into Alicia’s heart. They were spoken in such a matter-of-fact manner that they were almost impossible to disbelieve. Horror and panic, fear and grief - they welled up and threatened to overwhelm her. She stumbled and nearly went down. The shield faltered and smoke curled from the ends of singed hair. Sorial dead at Basingham? That would explain the mirror. But he wasn’t even supposed to have fought there. The plan had been for all the refugees to be gone long before Justin arrived.

It was a lie. It had to be. Her connection with Sorial was so strong, so intimate, that she would have
known
if he had met his end. Even half-way across the world, she would have felt it, just as she had known when he nearly died bringing down the efreet. She clung stubbornly to that thought, even though it proved unable to fully dispel the doubt and despair. After all, Justin was here and she was unable to contact Sorial.

He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead
. She wasn’t certain whether she was speaking the words aloud or in her mind. The perspiration and rainwater mixed with tears on her face. Then suddenly, the fire was gone. The voice was silenced. The forest around her returned to its immense stillness. She could see, however - the blazing trees behind her provided sufficient illumination for normal vision.

Then she noticed him, silhouetted against the fire, advancing slowly. His features were hidden in shadow at this distance with so much brightness behind him. His form was of average size and not at all imposing. Had she been expecting a hulking giant? She supposed she didn’t look especially impressive, either: a slip of a girl, barely a mature woman, wet, naked, and bedraggled.

“You’ve proven yourself to be most formidable,” said Justin. No longer did his words reverberate from all sides. His voice was that of an old man, all its magically enhanced robustness discarded. With the amplification gone, she had to strain to hear what he was saying. His tone and attitude were nonchalant. Alicia couldn’t blame him for his calmness. If it came to a fight, this was far from an even match. Cat and mouse.

She waited, unsure what to do. Run, and hope he didn’t strike her down from behind? Launch a preemptive magical attack despite the almost surety of its failure? Or stand her ground? Yes, mice could escape cats, but it didn’t happen very often. More than anything, she wished there was a way to say goodbye to Sorial.