The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War) (8 page)

C
orin’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am! He was at the cabin yesterday. You must have passed him on the road. I suspect he’s still in town making arrangements for the voyage.”

“The voyage?”

“He thinks the elves are living on the Isle of Mists. He thinks they’ve been hiding there for ages, and all the terrible rumors about the place are contrivances to keep them hidden.”

Corin shook his head. “He has the right of it. I heard the plan from Oberon’s own lips before it was set in motion. But that was a thousand years gone. Surely by now they’ve moved elsewhere.”

“That was the favorite belief of ancient scholars too, but my friend has uncovered new secrets. He swears they are still there, concealed by some extraordinary power.”

Corin fell very still. Some instinct warned him this was too perfect a coincidence, and he wondered how it could have come to pass. Was it some trap of Ephitel’s? Or perhaps the druids manipulating events around him? Perhaps it was the work of the very elves that Corin sought. Would that be for good or ill?

Or perhaps it was merely the work of Fortune. She’d always smiled fondly on Corin, in spite of all his sins. Was this another chance, another twist of Oberon’s dream to benefit his mis
fit heir?

More likely by far, it was nothing but an errant venture. The thought rang true, yet he could not entirely shake off the wave of hope that Auric’s pronouncement had cast up. “Surely . . . surely he can’t have unraveled such an ancient secret on his own.”

“Oh, he could,” Auric said, grinning. “He is a very clever man. Smarter than the two of us combined. He’ll find his way, and I suspect he’d benefit from a sturdy hand and sharp eye to keep him safe. I think you should join him.”

Before Corin could find any answers, the farmboy interrupted all his thoughts with a piercing question of his own. Eyes fixed on the ground and voice cast low, Auric asked him, “Did you really mean it?”

Corin shook off his suspicions to focus on his companion. “Mean what?”

“When you were speaking with Sera. You told her you have no plans for Ephitel’s succession. Do you honestly believe we could survive without the gods?”

Corin dropped a hand on Auric’s shoulder and caught his eyes. “I swear on sea and sky, I think we’d
thrive
if every one of them were dead. These false gods have never served us. We should preserve the dream of the creator and strive to be free men living in a world of wonder, not slaves subject to distant tyrants. This world was made for
us
, Auric. We are all we need.”

Auric stared at Corin, stunned, and only then did Corin understand what he had done. He’d grown up a beggar and a thief, hunted by the powers of authority. His own desire for survival had driven him to despise the god that so despised an orphaned child.

Then he had left the Godlands to become a pirate, sailing the seas as a free man in defiance of their laws. Perhaps there were some true believers hidden here and there among the crews Corin had joined, but most of those men hated the gods for all the same reasons Corin had.

And then he’d stepped into Oberon’s dream. He’d met Ephitel firsthand and seen the dark dawn of that tyrant’s reign. He’d spent his time since then surrounded by the druids who knew all these secret truths.

It had grown so easy to speak of the gods—all the gods—as enemies. He no longer thought of them as myths or legends, but as men. The whole lot of them upon Mount Attos were naught but craven sycophants who’d bent knee to a regicide and traitor.

And certainly the farmboy had never balked when Corin spoke ill of Ephitel. Why would he? Any upright Raentzman hated Ephitel as surely as he hated all Ithalians. It was only proper.

But he would not hate
his
god. Raentzmen honored Pellipon. Most Ithalians made heartfelt sacrifice to Ephitel. It was easy to forget that all across the Godlands, good men and women earnestly worshipped their gods in righteous fear. And none would do so more than an honest, good-hearted farmboy from the remotest corner of Raentz.

Corin raised his hands, prepared to argue his defense. “I meant no offense,” he said quickly. “Just the idle musings of a shipless pirate.”

But the farmboy did not lash out. Instead, even as Corin watched, a burning hope seemed to dawn in the other man’s eyes. It took the place of a fear so old and so familiar that it had become a part of him. Auric rolled his shoulders like a man who had just shed some dreadful burden he’d been carrying for years.

“My mother raised me to love Pellipon,” Auric said, his voice still low, but stronger now. “To love Pellipon and hate Ephitel like every man who’s good and true. However, in my travels I met Tesyn, and
he
loved Ephitel and hated Pellipon. But he was good and true.”

Corin nodded, understanding.

Auric went on. “Then I met Hartwin who worshipped Elsbrit. He didn’t murder innocents or wallow in obscenities. He is the most righteous man I know, but he would spit in Pellipon’s face if he ever met him.”

“I suspect they make us war for sport,” Corin said. “You’ve seen it in the Games. They play our nations off for their amusement, and men die.”

Auric nodded. That much most men accepted. After all, the ways of the gods were mysterious and just.

The farmboy continued. “Then I met Longbow. He knows nothing of the gods except their names, and he reserves those as the vilest of curses.”

“I remember Longbow,” Corin said. “He was good and true.”

“I respect the things my parents taught,” Auric said slowly, “but my whole
life
since I left Raentz has taught me they were wrong.”

“They were wrong,” Corin said. “Deceived by the gods they trusted. I have seen the secret face of Ephitel, and he is an elf who killed his king. Everything since then has been a farce at our expense.”

The farmboy clenched his massive hands in fists. He took a slow breath, then raised his head and showed Corin a startlingly innocent smile.

“So I suspect it’s not enough to bring down Ephitel. We’re going to have to kill them all,” he finished.

Corin yelped with laughter, startled. Then he clapped a hand on Auric’s shoulder. “You know . . . I’m slowly starting to believe you. We could be good friends indeed.” He glanced toward the house, remembering his conversation with Sera, and he had a sudden, sinking feeling. She would
not
be pleased at this new conviction.

“Auric, you heard how Sera feels about all this. I’ve no desire to see you embroiled in my madness.”

Auric shook his head. “It isn’t your madness, Corin. It’s theirs. Ephitel’s and Pellipon’s and all of theirs. It’s wrong, and it must end.”

Corin wanted to argue, if only for Sera’s sake, but Auric wasn’t wrong. Instead, Corin closed his grip tighter on Auric’s shoulder. “One thing at a time. First, Ephitel, and then we’ll see about the rest.”

Auric seemed to waver, and Corin caught his eye. “This is no easy matter. You must see that. It will take careful planning, and we cannot afford to start a war with
all
the gods. Not all at once. Not until we’ve breached their hull. Once they’re foundering, taking on water fast, then we can fall upon them like justice.”

Auric still seemed anxious to charge into the fray. “Ephitel is not alone in his tyranny!”

“We will break them, Auric, but not with a direct assault. They will not take any move against them lightly, and they have mighty armies and untold powers at their disposal. Look what Ephitel did to Aemilia just because I struck one of his dandies.”

“That isn’t right,” Auric growled. “It cannot be allowed.”

“But if we are to fight such power, we must take every step with care. Think of Sera. She’s a target, just as much as Aemilia. She’ll be seen as a traitor, and they will not abide that.”

Auric blinked. His fervor faded, replaced by a raw fear for her safety. “What do I do?”

Regret clenched Corin’s gut. He hadn’t meant to scare the man; just to delay him. But now he sought some soothing answer. “For now? Nothing. Keep a careful eye out, watch for any sign of danger, and enjoy your days with Sera.”

“All of this I’ve done. But what if Ephitel comes for her?”

It was a good question, and Corin found his answer. “If you see any of sign danger—or especially if I should disappear
without
other notice—take Sera and go to the druids. Ask for Jeff. It will be easiest if you can work with him.”

Some of the tension drained from the farmboy’s expression. “I’ve dealt with the druids before. They can help me?”

“They will. They helped me bring Sera here in the first place, and they understand the threat. Aemilia was one of theirs, aft
er all.”

Auric clapped Corin on the shoulder. “Thank you. Now go and find your allies. You should be able to find my friend in the tavern here in Taurb. Walking, it might take you four hours in good weather.”

Corin considered the clear sky and nodded. “I’ll make it i
n three.”

“There you have it, then. I know that my friend had planned to stay there while he made all his arrangements. He’d hoped to leave this afternoon, but it might take him until tomorrow.”

Corin grinned. He’d planned to wait in the same tavern for Ben’s arrival. It could be no great challenge to convince this new companion to wait a day or two. With Fortune’s favor, he’d have the sword in hand when he set sail to meet the ancient elves.

He caught Auric’s eye. “And how will I know this friend of yours? Has he a name?”

Auric answered the question with a grin. “He does, but I think it only fair that I leave him to tell you. I do assure you, you will know him when you see him.”

Corin frowned. “This is scarcely the time for playing games.”

Auric only grinned the wider. “I’ve said all I will say on the matter.”

Corin almost pressed him for more, but he could not credit the slightest malice in the farmboy’s nature. And more than that, Corin’s own good fortunes had won him over. After so long sailing blind, he had a course that he could count on. He felt ready to face anything.

So instead of arguing, he bowed his head to Auric. “Thank you for everything, my friend. Please give Sera my warmest regards and honest gratitude for her hospitality in my darkes
t hour.”

With that, he took his leave. He did not even return to the cottage; everything he owned was in the cloak he caught up from the ground. He clasped Auric’s arm in friendship, then followed the graveled path back to the packed earth road.

It took a little more than three hours, even at the brisk pace he set, but he spent the entire time in thought. He considered everything he’d said to Auric and Sera about man’s need for gods. He reviewed the secrets he had shared with them, the plans he had revealed, and tried to consider all the ways they might betray him.

He had not forgotten the coincidence he was pursuing now. In all the world, who else might have such an interest in finding the elves of old Gesoelig? How would someone such as he have found friendship with the farmboy? Why would he be here now? And why hadn’t Auric given him a name? Was Corin marching straight into a trap?

Corin couldn’t credit the man with that much duplicity. He’d have seen more of a hint than just this happenstance. No, if there were some sinister plot afoot, then Auric and Sera both were as much deceived as Corin. But that did not rule out the plot.

Corin puzzled over the question for a mile or two, but in the end he knew it wouldn’t stop him. How could he pass up an opportunity—however frail—to find a companion in a quest like this? Especially if it were truly one who had the resources to find what Corin needed.

He touched the hilts of his knife and dagger, unconscious reassurance, and reminded himself that he could slip through dream as easily as thinking. Even a justicar had been unable to stop him.

Gradually, he fought down the buzz of anxiety and set his mind on happier things. It would be a victory to find some familiar face from Oberon’s dreams. He’d raise an army such as Hurope had not seen in ages, and he would lead them against their brothers who played at being gods.

While he approached the village of Taurb, he imagined how the fight might go. He’d caught no more than glimpses of the elves in combat, even in the dream, but he could guess from what he’d seen and legends he had heard. Fortune favor, he would
become
a legend if he pulled this off. Bards would sing his tale across the breadth of a Hurope that bowed its knee to no lords but the ones they chose. He could almost hear the ballad now, trilling to the sound of a raucous fiddle.

The music swelled, and Corin chuckled as he realized it was not his imagination at all. The song was coming from the tavern just ahead. It seemed they had a minstrel entertaining despite the early hour. Perhaps that would alleviate the tedium while Corin tried to uncover this mysterious friend of Auric’s.

He did not forget his caution, though. He turned aside before he reached the village square, slipping between two houses so he could approach the tavern from the back. A narrow door stood open on the alley, leaking all the warmth and noise of a bustling kitchen out into the autumn morning.