Heretic (The Sanctuary Series Book 7) (54 page)

“You’re choosing your words very carefully, husband,” Vara said slowly. When he looked over at her, she went on. “‘As head of the Council of Twelve.’ But you see it making sense from his other role?”

Cyrus nodded. “Perhaps … if the directive came to the head of the Leagues. From elsewhere.”

“You think the gods themselves turned the Leagues against us,” Vara said, “and Danay leapt on eagerly, and Urides went along, sweeping Goliath and the Raiders along in his tide.”

“I know Bellarum wasn’t too pleased with me when last we spoke,” Cyrus said, shaking his head. “Though you’d think Vidara or Terrgenden would mention it if their friends were aligning their forces against us—”

“I did not have much of a conversation with the All Mother when I enlisted her aid,” Vara said. “She made her communication to me through her servants. I did not even see her until she arrived with you at the convocation, and she said as little to me as she did to you, and entirely publicly.”

“Still, you’d think she’d say something if she saw them moving against us,” Cyrus said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Urides just acted opportunistically, not expecting us to be able to marshal the strength to remove him from his comfortable office.”

They stood like that for a few minutes, Vara looking down at her gauntlets, which had been cleaned carefully since the night of the battle when they had been covered entirely with ichor and gore. “So … what do we do now?”

“I have it in my mind to question Carrack,” Cyrus said. “And we’ll need to talk to Scuddar about the base in the jungle, but …” He let out a long, slow breath. “For now? I have a hard time imagining either Cattrine or Terian being thrilled about staging our troops in an invasion of Goliath’s base where we could easily be struck down as we appear at the portal, even if we could get Carrack to part with the spell.”

“Or conversely,” Vara said, “having to march from the portal north of the wreck of the Endless Bridge. Selene and Tolada implied it was a journey of months. Removing the Luukessians from Emerald Fields and the dark elves from Saekaj for a period of months seems—”

“Foolhardy,” Cyrus said, nodding along, a bitter taste in his mouth.
It’s like defeat, the flavor of ashes
.

“Or just foolish,” Vara said, staring off into the distance. “Perhaps even petty on our part.”

“Yes,” Cyrus agreed, but there was a feeling like worms crawling about in his belly, thrashing about to tell him how wrong he was. “At the very least … we need to wait. Give it time. Gather information.”

“The prudent course,” Vara agreed, but she shifted at her place on the railing, and he could tell that she, like himself, was not entirely convinced.

“Welcome back to my humble abode,” Terian said, greeting Cyrus and Vara with a wide grin as they appeared in a blaze of green wizard teleportation magic in an enormous chamber filled with carriages and wagons. There was little light save for that of spells being cast, and as they appeared Cyrus caught a glimpse of a portal standing in the middle of the room behind them.

“Have we been here before?” Vara asked, wheeling around to take in the whole of the space they were in. Cyrus cast the Eagle Eye spell upon himself and then her in turn, the world brightening around him as the effect settled on his eyes and gave him vision in the dark.

“This is what I call the Courtyard of Saekaj and Sovar,” Terian said, turning to encompass the whole chamber with a sweep of his hand. “It’s where we used to stage carriages, bringing them down from the surface pulled by horses and oxen and whatnot, then transfer them to our vek’tag-pulled conveyances.” He pointed to a carriage nearby hitched to two enormous spiders larger than any ox. “They can see in the dark, but horses, oxen, they can’t, so …”

“So here’s where you moved your portal,” Cyrus said, turning to look at the stone oval standing in the middle of the chamber, spell-light flashing around them as more wizards and druids brought in wagons and carts from outside.

“The one Yartraak hid in the palace for his own use, yes,” Terian said, beckoning them toward the waiting spider-drawn carriage. “And now I’ve got our wizards and druids working every hour of the day to bring in food and take out our exports, all while the army continues to dig us out of this mess.” His eyes gleamed in the dark. “I’m pleased you came today.” He opened the door to the carriage and gestured for Vara to get in first.

“Glad we could oblige,” Cyrus said, stepping in next and seating himself next to Vara on the comfortable bench.

“I hear your numbers have stopped shrinking,” Terian said as he fastened the door closed and braced himself against the front of the carriage on the forward bench and then clanked his gauntlet against the wood. The carriage’s wheels squeaked into motion after the sound of a whip crack split the air. The sounds of the courtyard, as Terian had called it, faded now that they were in the carriage, the windows covered over with velvety curtains.

“Yes, we’re settled at four hundred and eighty-five members,” Vara said, not amused. “Though I suppose you knew that number already, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Terian said with a nod. “But it’s always nice to have your information confirmed.” He glanced at Cyrus. “My question is—did you know that number?”

“Yes,” Cyrus said, nodding, puckering his lips. “No point in not, and it’s not as though it’s moved in the last week. We seem to have recaptured at least a small sliver of our old reputation, and perhaps given a breath or two of hope to our members. Hopefully that’ll be the end of that.” Terian gave him a pitying look. “So,” Cyrus said, “I take it you’d be of the same opinion as Vara when I asked her if she thought any of our wayward former members would come wandering back?”

Terian did not blink, but he cocked his head curiously. “What did she say?”

“I said,” Vara spoke rather pointedly, clearly annoyed by Terian’s failure to ask her directly, “that decisions, once made, are funny things, and require one to justify them constantly. Pride, in my opinion, precludes any returns. But hopefully,” she finished, sniffing slightly at the damp underground air, “we will not lose any more soon.”

Terian nodded slowly. “Yes, I think she’s quite right. Anyone disloyal enough to leave when they thought you a loser—” Terian grimaced at his own inelegant word choice, “—is unlikely to come back now that you’ve been proven a winner once more. Also, you’re not technically clear of the Leagues’ ire, at least not from Reikonos. Nor the dwarves or gnomes, if it comes to it, though I doubt you’ll find anyone pressing you about it. Carefully neutral, that’ll be everyone’s stance in regards to Sanctuary.”

“Is that so?” Cyrus asked. “Why do you think that?”

“Because pissing you off carries a high price,” Terian said with a grin as the carriage rattled along down the tunnel.

They sat in silence for a time, until Terian spoke. “So … I take it you jackasses are still sweating about Goliath being out there?”

“You’re not?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course I am,” Terian snapped. “Did you see what they did to the entrance to my capital? If I could personally insert my axe into Malpravus’s rectum, be assured I would do so, and then twist the blade enough times to ensure that every meal he ate would become a bowel movement within a second of consumption.” He bristled, shifting in his seat. “Cattrine feels things have worked out more or less equitably, but I doubt her soldiers would blink before following you off to war wherever it leads, because they’re not the forgiving or forgetting types.”

“That feels like it would be a lot to ask of them,” Cyrus said cautiously, exchanging a look with Vara.

“It is,” Terian said, staring at Cyrus through half-closed eyes. “You know where they are, then?”

“I have a suspicion,” Cyrus said. “That place Selene told us about. The old ruin in the jungle. Scuddar said it’s called Zanbellish. He called it the last city of the ancients.”

“Never heard of it,” Terian said with a frown.

“I have a map,” Cyrus said. “He drew it out for me, and in good detail—the portal, the basic layout of the place. It’s a city all right, or the ruins of one at least. But it’s a six-month march into the Bandit Lands, through swamp and jungle, and without a recognizable road.” He shook his head. “Any army walking that path will have to deal with all the diseases you could imagine—”

“And I suspect given your sordid history, you can imagine quite a few,” Vara said, drawing a baleful look from Terian.

“—and of course, months of living on conjured rations,” Cyrus said. “It’s either that or attempt an assault through the portal, and based on what Scuddar mapped out for me,” he shook his head sadly, “it’s a perfect place to be slaughtered.”

“I don’t like the sound of desperation on you, Davidon,” Terian said. “It sounds like giving up.”

“The cost of vengeance in this case is going to be ludicrously high, Terian,” Cyrus said, shrugging. “I have an army of—as you pointed out—less than five hundred. You have thirty thousand, of which—how many are currently involved in digging you out of the collapse?”

“Half or so,” Terian grudgingly admitted. “We’re digging every hour of the day presently, and making certain that our people are well rested so as not to, uh … work them to death, as the last Sovereign might have—”

“Truly, you are a wonder of progress,” Vara said with a smirk.

“—but that’ll be done in a few months,” Terian said. “And I’d be open to another mission.”

“Assuming the Luukessians wanted to toss in their lot with us,” Cyrus said, going onward, “then we’d have another eight thousand … but they’re almost entirely dragoons in a land where horses are going to be of no use. Scuddar said the swamps are impassible for equines. Even your spiders would have trouble,” Cyrus added, stopping Terian before he opened his mouth fully to speak. “So … we could do this, but …”

Terian made a deep rumbling sound in his throat. “But you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I
want
to,” Cyrus said. “Personally, I’d love to make a scarecrow out of Malpravus’s corpse, and give over Rhane Ermoc to the trolls so I could watch them cook him and eat him—”

“I don’t think even the trolls eat people,” Vara said.

“—but that’s me,” Cyrus said. “
I
want to go. I don’t want to drag my army along on a journey of six months through the wilds of the Bandit Lands. Scuddar guaranteed we’d lose several hundred just to incurable diseases of the swamps, to say nothing of the heat. And if you travel in the winter, you’ll see torrential, freezing rains which will inflict a different sort of toll. No beasts of burden to carry tents, which means you’re left hauling your own equipment—”

“Sounds like a job for the Army of Sanctuary that went into Luukessia,” Terian said sourly. “Too bad the last year has seen that stripped away entirely.”

“Isn’t it?” Vara asked as they thumped over a particularly hard bump in the road. “Indeed, I find myself wondering, if we did strike out … what exactly we would find at the end?”

“And with Malpravus able to flit back and forth between the inhabited lands of Arkaria and that base of his,” Cyrus said, drawing to the largest sticking point he had found, the one he’d turned over in his mind again and again, “imagine the havoc he could wreak with all of us gone for months, unable to receive so much as a word of warning in our absence. He could invade Reikonos, or Saekaj, or Huern—”

“That last one might be an improvement,” Vara muttered. “A small one, but still.”

“He’s not known for sitting idly by,” Cyrus said, giving Vara a sidelong look. “Whatever he’s been up to this last year, he’s been driving the events in some way, large or small, and as soon as he knew we’d won the fight in Reikonos, Goliath was out of there entirely. I don’t fancy giving him a free hand to do whatever he wants in Arkaria while the bulk of us are away with our armies trying to hunt him down.”

“Ugh,” Terian said, his head sagging, “I hate that you’re making a good point here. I was so dreaming about placing that bastard’s head on a pike and dipping it in tar so I could keep it around for inspiration on rough days.”

“It’s not as though I’m enthused about leaving Praelior in the hands of Rhane Ermoc,” Cyrus said, his jaw clenching involuntarily. “In addition to that …” He paused. “That dark knight of yours? Sareea?”

Terian straightened, his head coming up. “What about her?”

“She used the return spell to escape me at Idiarna,” Cyrus said, and Terian immediately slumped forward.

“Goliath, entirely heretic,” Terian said, closing his eyes tightly. “All right. I don’t want to chase them in the jungle swamps, either, now.” He leaned against the carriage wall, taking slow breaths until he seemed to have regained his composure.

“Has Carrack told you anything?” Vara asked.

“I haven’t had time to talk to him,” Terian said as the carriage hit another bump. He smiled, but it was forced. “I was waiting for you two, truthfully. For you, I can clear my schedule and make the time.”

“I feel so honored,” Cyrus said dryly.

“You damned well ought to,” Terian said, “but honestly, I wouldn’t give this bastard one solitary moment if I didn’t hold out at least some hope that he might be able to tell us something …” Terian paused, and the resolve showed on his face, “… something that might let us still catch Goliath with a sword to the heart.” And they fell into an agreeable silence as the carriage rolled deeper into the tunnels of Saekaj Sovar.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Carrack said with a soft smile, his eyes already dimmed by his time in the dark elven prison. Once more the common area where the prisoners ate had been cleared by the guards, leaving Cyrus, Vara and Terian alone in the dank, musty air with the human wizard.

“Huh,” Terian said, staring at him, “that went … a little easier than I expected.”

“You should know how Malpravus is,” Carrack said, smiling broadly through his rotten teeth. “He understands power. This conversation? You have me wrapped up, trapped—you have all the power. If he were in my position, he would tell you anything you want to know.” Carrack leaned forward. “That’s how he is, see. In order to get what you need, what you want,
everything
is fair game. No loyalty; just alliances of convenience.”