The Godlost Land (25 page)

Hers wasn't a unique tale unfortunately. Once the news of the wizards' betrayal had been made known, all around them their own wizards had started hanging their heads in shame. It had been bad enough discovering that some of their number were working with the false temple, even wearing the robes of priests. But to learn that they were the ones responsible for creating this evil? That had been a body blow to many.

“Then speak.”

“From what Geron has said there are two wizards of the Circle in Midland Heights. Alenda Goldeneyes and Maynard the Irrepressible. Alenda is a fire wizard with terrible power and Maynard a summoner capable of calling the greatest of beasts to his aid. You will need all the magic you can find to fight these two. And I would like to offer my services for the battle and the war.”

Erislee's immediate thought was to wonder how she could know what Geron had said. His interrogation was still ongoing in Inel Ison. He had been taken there after the soldiers at Glass River had said they could learn no more from him. It wasn't that he was refusing to talk – far from it. The wizard was so frightened of being hung that he couldn't stop talking. It was that he knew so much. So many details. And they simply didn't have the people who could make use of much of what he could tell them. So he had been taken somewhere where priests and sages could ask questions of him. Everything he knew of the deal.

It was Geron who had first given them a name for their enemy. The leader, perhaps. Terellion the Bright. A summoner. And now according to Geron, the leader of the Circle and the king in all but name of Lion's Crest. A name that was not widely known – yet.

Of course she realised that Inel Ison was where Dina Windstrider now lived. Given her magic and her knowledge of the wizards of Lion's Crest it was likely that she had been involved in the wizard's interrogation. The dryads would have welcomed her help.

“Your help would be welcome.” But even as she said it a part of her was wondering if it really was. Suspicion had become a way with her of late. Maybe some of that showed.

“Let me guess. You're thinking I'm a Circle wizard and the Circle has become your enemy?” Dina didn't edge around the issue. She just stated it as if it was already fact.

“A little.”

“And you're also thinking you can't trust any wizards?” Once again Dina just came out with it, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.” Erislee admitted the truth.

“And maybe with cause.” The wizard nodded sadly as she said it, startling Erislee. It was as if she agreed with her distrust.

“I can't give you the answers you want. I can't tell you who amongst us you can trust. I can't say that this will never happen again. I can only show you that you can trust me through my actions. But the one thing you can be sure of is that most of us who stand with you have been hurt as terribly as any others by what our peers have done. Some of us have been hurt far worse.”

“The arcane smith who gave us Geron's confession. Harl Elder Fire. Not only was his family killed, his home taken from him and his life destroyed, but his dreams were crushed. I remember him from before. He was always a clever lad. He was ambitious and clear headed. Though he said nothing of it to me I know he would have dreamed of one day joining the Circle. Now I imagine the very thought shames him. As it shames me that I was once a member of it.”

“You have a young water wizard Gleeson in your camp. The same is true of him and worse. His master is one of those who now serves the demons. I dread to think of the nightmares he must have every night as he wonders how he could have missed so much. How he could have let his own master help destroy his family. The guilt must be crippling.”

“Most of us are the same. Our families are dead. Our lives are ruined. Our hopes and dreams have been destroyed. In that we are no different to so many others. And we have been betrayed by our own. But we also now have to live with one more burden. None of us know which of our people, our friends and even our families, betrayed us. Which of them were responsible for murdering our friends and families.”

“Perhaps High Priestess instead of looking upon us as wizards, instead you need to think of us as victims, just like everyone else.”

“As I shall try wizard.”

Erislee had to agree with her, and for more reason than just that it was politic. The wizard was right even if she was speaking to her it as if she was a teacher telling off a small child. The wizards with them were just as broken as everyone else. Maybe more so. But she was also wrong Erislee knew.

The simple fact was that some wizards had done this terrible thing. Some, not all. And there was no way to know who had done what. But that didn't apply to anyone else. Certainly no priests had been part of this deal with the demon king. No civilians or artisans. And from what she could gather none of the nobility either. Their only role had been to be killed. As had that of nearly everyone else. That too had to be remembered. But this was not the time to point that out. She wasn't sure that there would ever be a right time to do that. Save maybe after this was ended.

“Thank you. Now with your permission I will go and join my fellow wizards High Priestess. I only came to inform you of my presence and to ask you to please call on me whenever you need my services.”

With that and a polite nod the wizard left her, walking off towards the camp, a strangely small and almost tragic figure. But still a determined one. And by the set of her shoulders, an angry one. That surprised Erislee though she didn't know why. The wizard had every right to be angry. As did everyone else. But the anger within her was more. It was the anger of a hunter about to chase down prey that had harmed him or his. She recognised that. The hunt was personal for the wizard.

Seeing her leave Erislee understood something else about this war that she hadn't until just then. That it was true what her father's people said: In war there was always one lesson that had to be learned. War was for life. When you made an enemy, you made an enemy for life. Forgiveness was an ideal beyond most men. There was never any true peace to follow. And as she watched the woman walk away Erislee knew that these Circle wizards had made an enemy of Dina Windstrider for life.

Now that she knew who they were they would be hunted by her unto their last breath. Or hers. And to be hunted by a Circle wizard was a terrible thing.

Chapter Eighteen

What a change a couple of months could make. That was the thing that constantly amazed Harl as he worked. And it wasn't just the change in seasons. Summer might be almost at its end though the sun was beating down hard on his back as he worked. But even the heat of the sun could have no greater warmth than the joy in his heart.

To be an arcane smith again! It meant everything to him. A blessing from the gods themselves. One among many.

The war was going well. More than well according to what he was hearing, and the news was being spread far and wide. Not just by the bards. The soldiers had set up a system of wandering criers, bringing the news of the war to the towns. Partly it was to encourage people to join them. And partly to remind them that there were enemies out there fleeing the towns. They wanted them found. They wanted people to report anyone they saw who looked like a fleeing wizard to their nearest fort. But at least for the first time in years the people were learning about events happening outside of their own town. Not just the lies of the false temple.

The army that had laid siege to Midland Heights had reported that the city was on its knees. Short of supplies, the people inside were starving, and far worse for them, the creatures within were hungry. The threat those inside faced from the army outside their walls was less than that from the horde of slavering monsters inside them.

Civilians inside the city were fleeing all the time. Jumping the walls and surrendering as fast as they could to the High Priestess' army. Bringing with them word of conditions inside the city. And from what the criers were saying, it wasn't good. Even the priests were scared. Those of the false priests who were really wizards knew fear because of the beasts. Those of them who were thralls knew fear mostly because of those they served. To fail a demon was a terrible thing. And now he knew that they were thralls and not Artemis's faithful. Mostly. Some days he still wondered a little. Especially when he still had no understanding of how a bunch of thralls and wizards could take the Goddess' temples from her. Even with the demon king behind them. Or why they would want to.

Meanwhile nearly all the surrounding towns and villages had finally been freed of their tyrant priests. That had to be more than a hundred towns free of their masters. Free of the soldiers and the beasts. Altogether he guessed it was upwards of a million people now no longer bending their knee to the false priests. No longer living in fear and sending them all their coin and food. Harl was glad for them of course. Just as he was glad for the people of Whitebrook.

Harl still though yearned to see the dozen Circle wizards and their helpers dead. More than that he wanted them to suffer and burn before they died. He wanted to hear them scream for what they had done. It was dark and unworthy, but it was the truth.

And two of those Circle wizards were to be found in Midland Heights.

Maynard the Irrepressible, a master of summoning and from what little he could remember of him, a complete madman, was the first of them. People even called him Maynard the Mad behind his back. Many had said he was touched. They were being kind in his view. The man talked to himself and was forever summoning pet cats to play with. Hundreds of them. Wherever he went you would find them in the streets looking confused as to where they were and how they'd got there. And to make matters worse they might be completely docile with the wizard, but with everyone else they were wild. His soul might be filled with magic, but his mind was empty of reason.

The other was Alenda Goldeneyes, a fire wizard. He didn't know her save to look at. Many times in Lion's Crest he'd seen her marching up and down the streets, her attendants in tow as she went to castigate some unfortunate. In the Circle she had taken on the role of prefect and as such she had watched over all the other wizards in the kingdom for the slightest sign that they were disobeying the rules.

And she had taken her duties seriously. Harl had never spoken with her but his master had, and Master Gallowgood had been less than happy each time. Once she'd accused him of crafting assassins' blades, when in fact he had been crafting weapons for the king himself – if they'd fallen into the hands of assassins, Harl and his master had presumed that they were the king's assassins. From what Harl knew of Alenda she was said to be one of the most powerful wizards of fire ever seen.

Soon he hoped, and sometimes he even prayed to Hera for it though it was never her bailiwick, they would both be dead. And maybe she should answer his prayers. Hera might be the Mistress of Home and Hearth, but the Circle had acted against her
directly. I
t was the homes of many of her followers that had been destroyed. Their hearths that would never be lit again. The cribs of their babies that would no longer be rocked. Her temples that had been burnt down and her priests that had been killed. Even if she wasn't a goddess of justice like Dike Astraea she surely had the right to claim it on behalf of her faithful.

In the meantime Harl's task was to craft the weapons that would be needed to defeat them. As such he had set about having his smithy rebuilt. He now had half a dozen body moulds on which to shape his armour, racks filled with all the tools of the smith's trade, a water trough system to make working at the pit more comfortable, and an area for hanging up his wares as he crafted them. Even the ore pits and ingot stores had been rebuilt. What had been little more than an ancient pit only a few months earlier was slowly turning into a proper working smithy.

Now, every day from dawn until dusk he laboured at his pit, crafting the weapons and armour he had promised for the war effort. It was a lot of work. Currently he was making around thirty swords a week, all of them enchanted with magic for sharpness and durability. They were good weapons, and would take off a minotaur's limbs or a leonid's head quickly enough.

Cuirasses were the other thing he was making in numbers. They were quicker and easier to make than brigandines though the latter offered better all round protection for less weight. But he could spell them so that they would still give the wearer a decent chance against most enemies.

It was a lot of work. No blacksmith could have crafted so many weapons let alone enchanted them. But he was an arcane smith. His fire burnt hotter than theirs. The metal flowed more easily under his hands.

But he had also been given some help in his work. Not the apprentices or arcane smiths he would have liked though. There just weren't any others with the art. But Marni had sent him some people from Whitebrook to clear the old path to his smithy so that wagons could be brought to him. And now every week he had another load of ore sent his way. All the ores he could smelt, which was why he now had racks overflowing with ingots ready to be turned into swords and armour. She was also sending him provisions so that he didn't have to spend his time walking into the town and arranging for soldiers to pick up his wares each week.

Somehow Marni had ended up as the head of the local garrison. The old fort based just outside of Whitebrook was under her command. Harl still didn't understand that. He had thought from the first that she might be a soldier but not that she might carry such a high rank. She seemed too young for the position to him. A commander in his mind was supposed to be an old grizzled veteran with battle scars criss-crossed over his body. That was not her. But he had to admit that she seemed to be able to do the job. Her soldiers certainly followed her lead and they jumped to her commands. And they had quickly rebuilt the old fort.

When the false temple had come to town the fort had been abandoned as the beasts drove the soldiers away. And after they had gone its walls had been broken, its buildings had been smashed and the fort had been left in ruin
s
. Ever since then it had lain empty, only a few birds and vermin calling it home while the weeds took over. But now that the false temple was gone the fort had been reclaimed and it had become a part of the war. And little by little Commander Holdgood was restoring it to order. Bringing back its long forgotten pride. 

The new recruits from the nearby towns were being given their initial training at it. They would then go on to Glass River to finish their training and be taught to fight as an army. Patrols were also being sent out from the fort to scout the nearby lands for any roaming creatures. And supplies were being sent forward to the front lines. He understood they were also building siege machines in the fort which one by one were being trundled to the Fortress of Glass River. There, crews were being trained to use them, each machine needing ten to fifteen men to operate it. The fort had an entire production line for the machines, which began with the foresters finding the trees to cut down and mill.

And it wasn't just in the Whitebrook Fort that that was happening. A dozen more forts had been returned to service across the Rainbow Mountains, and all were supplying the war effort. In time the war machines and crews would travel on to Midland Heights for the final assault. And when Midland Heights fell as everyone knew it would, all of the Rainbow Mountains would be free. One of the five kingdoms would once more be in the hands of the people. And the celebrations would last for months and years.

What would happen after that he didn't know. He suspected no one did. And some days as he worked he wondered about that. There was no king or court any longer. They had all been killed when the temple had taken power. Actually they had been killed before that. A number of furies had killed most of them long before the temple had come to the Rainbow Mountains. Assassins had made sure that no one replaced them. Without a court the entire kingdom had been reduced to a collection of towns and villages all working according to their own plans. It would be a long time before the Rainbow Mountains became a unified land again, and he feared there would be battles and skirmishes along the way as various would be kings vied for power.

Looking further ahead to the glorious day when the Kingdom of the Lion was finally free he knew that that would be an even more troubled road. There, there was not only no court remaining, but most of the people in the city had been killed in the initial attack. Those that lived there now had been brought there to replace the dead. He couldn't imagine that many of them would want to stay in a city that wasn't their home. But at least the people would still be free of the temple and that was what mattered most. It was the only thing that mattered.

As for the war, while the High Priestess led it and seemed to be winning, he didn't know how much success she would have in taking the war beyond the Rainbow Mountains if and when the time came. He hoped she would simply be able to continue growing in strength and power. But he had doubts. Many of those who followed her were there to free their homes of the tyrant priests. But once that was done would they really be willing to follow her into the other four kingdoms? To spend years of their lives freeing lands they didn't know or have any connection to?

Some would. The wizards and the priests and any others driven into exile and hiding in this mountainous land would. Not only were most of their homes not originally in the Rainbow Mountains, but they, like him, had a lot of anger. More than most others since the outcasts had been on the run for five long years. The other soldiers drawn from the liberated towns had instead simply bent their knees to the false temple and suffered. They too were angry, but not in the same way. Her army of unicorns and griffins would of course follow the High Priestess. But the army itself? Somehow he doubted it. Given a choice they would want to go home if they could. To head east into the Enteria Regency or west into Vardania was not their dream. Their dream had always been to reclaim their homes.

The more important question for him was what would he do when the time came? Some of it was easy to answer. He would continue to do what he was doing. He was an arcane smith and he was of Lion's Crest. He would continue to craft the weapons the army needed until the last of these demon following wizards was dead. But other decisions weren't so simple. At some point he would have to move. To find himself a new smithy in whichever kingdom they invaded next. And that would be a hard thing to do, even for him.

This humble smithy had become a home to him. He didn't have another.

Still, as he beat at the steel of a breastplate he knew that that decision was many months away. The best estimates were that Midland Heights would hold until winter. And then when it fell a great many more decisions would have to be made before the army marched on. It would likely be spring before he had to decide to do anything at all.

Hoof beats in the distance took Harl's thoughts away from his worries and he looked up – interested  to see who was coming. A strange thing had happened since the commander had asked him to make weapons for the army. He had come to enjoy having visitors. Not for the conversation, nor because they brought him coin or supplies. Simply because each one might have something he could do. An order or a request for a specific weapon that he could craft and which would hopefully end up buried in the chest of an enemy. He was not a soldier, but he would do everything he could to help destroy their enemy.