The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War) (7 page)

H
e left Corin at the door, and it took more than a moment before he came back. When the door finally did open, it was to Sera, who offered Corin a lovely smile. “Master Hugh,” she said, her voice honeyed, “I fear we have already eaten, but will you join us in the sitting room for drinks?”

It was not at all the greeting he’d expected, especially after waiting so long. But she was a princess, after all. And a Vestossi on top of that. She’d been raised on politics and subterfuge. Corin swept a gracious bow in answer. “I would be delighted.”

Corin followed her down the short hall to the modest sitting room. Though she moved with a fluid grace, she carried a tension in her shoulders and a rigidness to her fingers that suggested she was fighting an urge to ball her hands in fists.

Corin caught the little details, and they ignited a spark of guilt. He’d spoken truthfully when Auric confronted him about killing Sera’s brothers. He’d never seen it as a personal attack, but she could scarce ignore it.

He caught her shoulder at the threshold of the sitting room and lowered his head in contrition. “My lady, please accept my sincere apologies for any harm I’ve done you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something particular in mind?”

He licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “It was I who slew your brothers in Aerome. I never meant to cause you pain. I only wanted justice for a damage done me.”

For a long time she didn’t answer. Pain or anger tightened the edges of her eyes, but she showed no other hints at her thoughts.

In the end, she ducked her head. “Auric told me of your loss. You have my sympathy. Aemilia was a good woman.”

“And your brothers—”

Her hands did finally close in fists, but still she held her voice under careful strain. “Let us not speak of them. I was never close to either of them, and I am not blind to my family’s misdeeds, but I still remember them as boys at play. I cannot easily overlook what you have done.”

Corin sighed. “I appreciate your understanding. As soon as I have done with Auric—”

She shook her head. “You are already done with Auric. I can find some way to forgive the things you’ve done to my bloodstained kin, but I will not have you corrupting Auric’s honest nature.”

Corin drew himself up tall. “He’s not a child, Sera.”

“And I am not negotiating. I’ve spent my life surrounded by your sort—careful, conniving, and hungry for any advantage you can grasp. I love Auric precisely because he is none of those things, and I will not let you prey upon his goodness.”

Corin blinked. He’d not expected this. “Auric is a soldier. A mercenary! Even if I’d come to ask him to fight by my side, I wouldn’t be the first. And my cause wouldn’t be the worst.”

“Perhaps. But I believe you may well be the most devious. I fear that you recognize in him a spark that none else ever thought to fan to flame.”

Corin grunted. “I begin to see. You love him as the humble farmboy. But he could be so much more.”

“I have known men who were more, and none of them were better for it.”

“But surely none started from such honest stock.”

She dismissed the argument with a shake of her head. “He would make a mighty general and an admirable king, with some able counsel, but I understand the demands that weigh on both sorts of men. Either role might rob me of him as surely as some grievous battlefield.”

“Are you so selfish, princess?”

She arched an eyebrow, and Corin understood the words she didn’t say. He was at least as selfish in his pursuits, and he acknowledged it with spread hands and a mock bow. But he pressed on.

“I am but a vile rogue. You, however, are gracious and benign. I’ve seen it. You were far more forgiving the first time we spoke.”

She nodded sharply. “I was. But two things have changed since then.”

“The first?”

“I have come to know you. I fear I’ve never met a man so capable of heartless guile and desperate depravity than the one who stands before me.”

Corin licked his lips. He could find no answer to that, so he nodded and asked weakly, “And the second?”

“I am with my Auric now. That has taught me a selfishness I never knew before. I am no more a princess. That matters too. I will cling to him however I must, and the world outside can burn for all I care.”

“Then why have you not already sent me on my way?”

“I promised Auric I would hear you out. But I do not want your apologies and I do not want your careful lies. Tell me why you’ve come here, and then I will send you on your way.”

It was not a generous offer, but given the things she’d said, it was more than he should have hoped for. For half a heartbeat he cast about, searching for some clever lie that would gain him her compassion, but in the end he settled on the truth.

“I mean to bring Ephitel to justice.”

She sighed. “This is not news to me.”

“No. But it is a complicated matter. Among other things, it depends on a certain artifact I discovered in my journeys.”

“What artifact?”

“There is a weapon with the power to wound the invulnerable Ephitel.”

Sera blinked at that. She covered her shock with the careful decorum of an Ithalian princess, but it showed in the pulse pounding at her temple and the quaver in her voice. “You . . . surely there is not such a thing.”

“There is,” Corin said. “Aeraculanon’s blade, and it can do to Ephitel what it once did to Memnon. The druids know it for what it is.”

“And you have this sword?”

“I do.”

Her eyes widened, but then she looked him up and down. “Not
with
you, though. I must take your word?”

Corin quickly shook his head. “I don’t have it now, but it is coming here.”

She laughed. “That is a magic sword indeed.”

He fought down a growl of irritation. “I did not know if I could come here unmolested, so I sent it by a trusted messenger. It might be waiting here already. Have you not had a visit from a city dwarf?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t mean the silversmith?”

“Aye,” Corin said. “I had forgotten you were already friends with dear Benjamin.”

“Not friends,” she said, “but he has served my family. I am surprised that you can tolerate him.”

“I have known him longer than this current engagement, and I have reason enough to trust him. In fact, it helps that he belongs to your family; that should place him above suspicion.”

“And you say he has this sword?”

“He does. He brings it here at my direction. When he arrives, you’ll know the truth—”

“When he arrives?” she asked. “You expect him on the moment?”

“I cannot say precisely when, but if you’ve had time to hear news from Aerome, he can’t be far behind.”

“That could still be days,” Sera said with a too sweet smile. “Time enough for you to embroil Auric in some scheme, whether this dwarf ever arrives or not.”

“I assure you—”

She shook her head. “You will forgive me,
Captain
Hugh, but I cannot be satisfied with your assurances.”

“But you have other evidence. You’ve seen me working with the druids. You’ve seen the lengths I’ve gone already in pursuit of this.”

“I’ve seen you lie to me and risk my life in pursuit of your own agenda. I’ve seen you kill a cousin and brother.”

“All to draw out Ephitel. All in an attempt to bring him within reach of the sword
Godslayer
that I might end his reign.”

“And who is to replace him?”

The question surprised Corin. Replace him? An exterminator made no plans to replace the vermin he went out to kill.

But of course it would occur to Sera. The princess had lived all her life surrounded by men clawing for every scrap of power, and murder was not an uncommon means of gaining a position.

Even as he reached that understanding, Sera pressed on. “You? I would not have you for the god of all Ithale.”

“Not I,” Corin said, with a shudder that he didn’t have to feign. “I’ve no desire to rule. In truth, I’d be best pleased if no one replaced Ephitel at all. Let Ithalians choose the destiny of Ithale. Let the people serve as their own providence. But anyone at all would please me more than Ephitel.”

She eyed him for a moment, weighing some possibility. Then she stepped closer and held his gaze. “You mean it to be Auric, don’t you?”

Corin laughed harshly. He had no time to consider the ramifications, and he regretted it when Sera’s brows came down.

“Why do you scoff? He is as good as any man! Better
tha
n most.”

Corin raised his hands defensively. “I mean no offense, but the thought had never crossed my mind. I have not the means to elevate a manling to godhood; only the sword that will reduce a god to so much rotting flesh.”

She paled at that, disclosing a hint, but only a hint. She had as much to gain from Ephitel’s death as Corin did. He pressed closer and held her gaze. “I cannot stop until this thing is done. I’ve no desire to embroil Auric in it, but I had to get the sword out of Aerome. I had to meet Ben somewhere, and this was the only place I knew.”

“That’s why you’re here? Just to receive the sword?”

“Aye. I’ll swear to it.”

The princess nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now I’ve heard you out, in keeping with my promise, and my decision is an easy one. You said the dwarf planned to meet you here?”

“Any day now.”

She nodded. “Then I’d invite you to return to Taurb. It’s a pleasant little village east along the farmer’s road. I know the
tavern
keeper there, and he is an honest man. He’ll board you for a fair rate, and if Master Strunk should darken our door, I give my word I’ll send him to meet you there straightaway.”

Corin sighed. “Could I at least beg one night’s hospitality? I might not find much welcome arriving so late at night.”

She hesitated a moment. Corin waited. She heaved a sigh. “Very well. Against my better judgment, I’ll offer you a room for the night.”

He did not for a moment imagine that he’d won her over. And she was too clever by half to forget her concerns. So he chose to address them directly. He hoped it would make him look straightforward and trustworthy. He met her gaze. “What of your concerns for Auric’s innocence?”

She blinked, clearly surprised. After a moment, she bobbed her head. “They remain unchanged. Here is what I would ask of you: Do not entangle him in your schemes. Do not speak with him at all unless I am present also.”

“And if he should speak to me?”

She smirked. “You have a dark and brooding nature. Play the part. Your travels must have left you weary. Retire soon, and leave us with the dawn. You should not have much trouble evading him for so short a time.”

Corin nodded. “I can do these things. And you are more than gracious for the offer.”

“I am,” she said. “I am. I try every day to emulate Auric’s generous spirit. I pray you don’t teach me to regret it.”

Corin swallowed hard. For all her dedication to the gentle farmboy, she was still a Vestossi. There was steel behind that pretty mask. Corin worked moisture into his mouth and stammered, “Aye, my lady. You have my word.”

“Then get some sleep. There’s an empty room right through there. I’ll let Auric know you’re staying.” She took three steps toward the kitchen, then looked back over her shoulder. “And know this for the simple truth: If you do anything to harm my Auric, I’ll see you hanged.”

She said it with a summer smile and eyes as cold as winter. Corin didn’t doubt her for a moment.

S
leep should have come easily. Stepping through dream had played havoc with his sense of time, so he could scarcely have guessed how many hours it had been since he’d last slept. Days, at least. A lifetime.

He’d gone to sleep beside Aemilia. That’s all he knew for fact. He’d slept an easy sleep and woken to the smells of breakfast frying in the kitchen. He’d gone off to work with the other woodsmen, and he’d put in a hard day’s labor.

Since then he’d fought with Ephitel and taken his knocks. He’d argued with the druids, killed two most deserving Vestossis, and even tussled with a justicar. He’d leaped back and forth across a thousand miles and battled wills with half a dozen fierce opponents.

And somewhere in it all, he’d lost his love. The thought leaped out at him, treacherous, and he cursed at the flush of pain it brought. He wasn’t equipped to handle pain like that. He’d known unnumbered miseries in his short life, but none of them had cut as deep as this. He forced his breathing to be steady, waited for his heart to stop its hammering, and then
gingerly
he locked away his thoughts of her. Better far to focus on revenge.

But that course fared him little better. He’d gone off to Aerome with a plan to lure out Ephitel, but that had failed. If the elf knew about the sword
Godslayer
, if he was wise enough to use a justicar instead of answering in person, Corin could not see any obvious way to lure him into a trap. He searched and searched his mind, through all his clever schemes, but he could not find one.

There were other things to fear as well. If Sera’s information was accurate, then Ben Strunk was already two days overdue. Was he lost? Captured? Corin scarcely dared consider the possibility that
Godslayer
was lost. Why ever had he let the sword leave his side?

There were no answers for him here. Not now. His mind and body both ached beneath fatigue, and pushing himself harder now would gain him nothing. He fought to slow his breathing more, focusing on his bone-deep weariness, but still it felt like an age before he drifted off to sleep.

And it was no easy sleep. He tossed and turned, awakened more than once by brutal dreams of Ephitel arriving at the farmhouse and doing to Princess Sera what he’d done to Aemilia. Corin dreamed of fighting him in vain. He watched as Auric died a hero’s death. He saw Ben as the cruel elf’s prisoner, then as his accomplice, won over by the serving girl.

He found no rest in sleep that night, and before dawn had come, he gave up any hope of it.

Muscles still aching and head buzzing with an angry energy, he rose and dressed, pulling on his high black boots. He washed his face and hands in the basin. He went to the window and spent some time staring out over the moonlit yard. The house was utterly quiet, but Corin’s shoulders tensed as though there were enemies all around. His hand kept finding the hilt of his dagger and gripping it until his fingers cramped.

He strained his eyes, searching the moonshadows for some threat, but there was none. He snarled at the night. Despite the messages his body was sending him, he
knew
there was no immediate threat here. The threat was larger, spread out—Ephitel might show up anywhere, any time, but until he came, there was nothing Corin could do to fight him.

Corin dropped his forehead against the cool glass of the
window
. Even if Ephitel came, Corin couldn’t fight him. He’d given up the sword. It had made so much sense to keep it safe, but now he’d left himself completely helpless.

And he had come to this wretched cabin. For what? He pounded a fist against the windowpane and felt a touch of surprise that it didn’t smash to shards. He spun and kicked the bed that had given him no rest. He glared around the empty room, teeth bared and lungs heaving like some wild beast. He felt an urge to tear this building down around him.

Understanding crashed home then, and he caught a shuddering sigh. Aemilia again. This cottage, this countryside, reminded him too much of the place he’d shared with her. This very room felt like the room they’d slept in. And just there was the corner where he’d found her broken body.

The ache beneath his breastbone sharpened viciously, like a stiletto slipped between his ribs, and he had to gasp for breath. His knees went weak. He caught himself on the windowsill, supporting his whole weight, while a blackness fell across his eyes.

They had been happy together. They had felt safe. For the first time in his life, he’d had a
home
. And like a lightning strike, like a summer storm out of a clear blue sky, he’d lost it all. A pain even stronger than his anger surged up around him, and Corin clenched his jaw to stop a cry of agony. He choked back his sobs and fought his ragged breath until he could hear the total stillness in the cabin once again. His vision cleared, and he found himself staring out the window at the woodpile. At the handsome battleaxe that Auric had used to chop wood.

It called to him. He slung his heavy black cloak around his shoulders and left the room. Nothing stirred within the house. He went with nimble silence across the narrow sitting room and down the hall. Without a sound, he went out into the autumn chill.

He stood a moment, staring down at the chopping block. They’d had one just like it at the cottage—an old stump, shorn of bark by errant swings, scarred across its face from years of punishment. Its naked core, exposed, had turned from a honey color to a dark umber, weathered by the elements and time.

Could he do that? He felt freshly carved now. Could he
survive
? Could he hold up long enough to wear the scars? To become something useful once again?

He shook his head. Foolish, sentimental thoughts. He hadn’t come out here to feel sorry for himself; he’d come out here to accomplish something. He stooped to grab an unsplit log and lifted it into position upright on the chopping block. The motion felt familiar, and he reached automatically for the haft of the heavy axe.

How had this ever become commonplace? He was a vagrant, a thief, a pirate. But for three short months, he’d had a home.

He dashed the thoughts and heaved the axe into the air. Its heft was not familiar. This axe was a thing for killing—brutal and straightforward in a way that Corin had never mastered. Still, as he raised it high, he thought perhaps this served as more than a romantic gesture. He felt a proper headsman, towering above the block, and it was no challenge to imagine the neck that should have been stretched there. He thought of Ephitel, so cruel and gloating at the scene of his great crime. Corin clenched his jaw and swung the axe. It slammed into the solid chunk of wood and split it clean.

It helped. In a tiny way, it helped. He lifted another log into place and struck again. Again. Sweat pricked his brow, and he shed the heavy weight of his familiar black cloak. Then he split another log. And another.

He lost all track of time within the rhythmic motion. The sun rose while he worked, but he barely noticed. He cleared the pile before he stopped, then stood a moment, stunned. His chest heaved, his lungs and arms ached, but his mind felt sharper than it had in days.

“More,” he said, his voice raw to his own ears. “I am not finished.”

“It’s true,” another voice answered.

Corin wiped sweat from his brow and turned to find Auric watching. The farmboy’s hands were dirty, and a sheen of sweat covered him too. Corin realized there were no split logs around the block. Auric had been clearing them while Corin worked, stacking them neatly on the pile beneath the cabin’s eaves. It had to have been more than an hour they’d worked together without him noticing Auric or either man saying a word.

Corin licked dry lips. “True?”

“You’re not finished,” Auric said, passing Corin a waterskin. “That’s clear as day. But I doubt that there are trees enough in all of Raentz to satisfy your need.”

Corin took a long, slow drink. Then he nodded his agreement. “No matter how I try, the wood won’t bleed.”

The farmboy didn’t answer right away. He took the axe from Corin and turned it over and over in his hands. Then, with a casual gesture, he tossed it aside. He met Corin’s eyes. “That is not the proper tool for your task.”

Corin nodded. “A friend is bringing me—”

Auric cut him off with a shake of his head. “Sera told me all about it, but the sword won’t do it either—not on its own.”

Corin sank down on his heels, still fighting for breath. He was worn out, but he could see the golden light of an autumn
morning
shining bright. He’d find a way to do what neede
d doing.

“The sword will serve me well enough,” Corin said. “It will spill the blood of Ephitel.”

“And what will that gain you?” Auric asked. “Zyphar will only take his place. Or Elsbrit. Or Pellipon. There are gods enough to fill the role, and every one of them is cast from Ephitel’s mold.”

“So what would you have me do? Forget the wrongs he’s done? Grieve for what I’ve lost and try to find a normal life again?”

Auric shook his head emphatically, and Corin loved him for it. “Don’t be a fool. You have to kill him.”

“But you said—”

Auric spoke over him. “You’re not sufficient to the task. You don’t have to be. I tried to tell you so last night.”

Corin frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You do. You already know precisely what is needed, but you’ve allowed your grief to blind you. Before you first brought Sera here, you told her that you meant to raise an army.”

“Ah,” Corin said in sudden understanding. “Last night you spoke to me of good friends. But I have none. My plan required the assistance of the druids.”

“I . . . I thought you
were
friendly with the druids.”

“The circumstances of that relationship have changed.”

Disappointment touched the corners of the farmboy’s eyes, but he said nothing of it. He considered this new information a moment, then asked, “What did you need of them?”

“They were to connect me with the elves. But in the end, they could not help me there.”

The farmboy ran a hand through his hair and asked with exaggerated care, “Your true goal is to find the ancient elves? Long lost and most forgotten?”

“Aye. They’d be true and powerful enemies of Ephitel if I could but rouse them to the fight. But, alas, even the druids cannot tell me where they’ve settled.”

Auric let loose a mighty laugh. “You see! What did I tell you?”

“What?”

“I have a good friend who is even now setting out on a grand quest to find the elves of lore.”