Trial and Glory (14 page)

Indeed I picked the right men.

They discussed some of Tobin’s initial ideas over a large meal. His advisors took notes and in the more relaxed environment offered solutions that Tobin jumped at. Everyone agreed that the new project would be the focus of their daily duties until complete. They would meet twice a week at dinner to discuss the status of their responsibilities.

Tobin’s mood brightened over the enthusiasm in the room.

After the meal concluded, Tobin dismissed his council with the exception of one. He held back Resan, pulling him aside as the rest filed out.

“It occurred to me that I have let something else lapse. What is going on with Durahn? You haven’t delivered any of his complaints lately.”

Resan shook his head. “He hasn’t complained in some time, Warleader. Any message he sends is brief and to the point. He appears to have finally accepted his fate.”

Tobin grunted. “Not Durahn. If anything, this change makes me wonder what he’s really up to. Send someone to Nubinya, but do so discreetly. I need to know what is going on.”

So I can get rid of him for good. I’ve delayed it too long as it is.

“Right away, Warleader. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. Walor is behind on sending word from the Red Mountains. Find out why.”

“Could it be that he is just too busy eliminating the last of the enemy?”

“No. He knows protocol. I’m worried about him.”

Resan’s eyes widened at the admission, then bowed. “I’ll see to that matter first.”

“Good.”

Tobin followed Resan out of the dining hall, but used a different set of stairs to return to the lower level of the palace. He traveled down a long hallway until reaching an arched door near the end. He knocked, and the door opened.

A shaman in blue robes greeted him with a bow, and then stepped aside.

“How is he?” asked Tobin as the door shut behind him.

The young boy he had rescued from the alley lay on a bed. Though he had been cleaned and fed, he still looked as though he teetered on the brink of dying.

“He’s doing better,” said the shaman. “I had to sedate him to get him to sleep. He kept asking for his mother.”

“Will he make it?”

“Physically, he’ll live. You found him just in time. But mentally or even emotionally, I don’t know. That’s a pretty traumatic way for one so young to lose their mother. Given where you found him, I doubt he has anyone else.”

Flashes of Tobin’s own mother assaulted him as he looked at the frail boy. He shut his eyes, and rubbed at his brow with an open hand until the images faded.

“Are you alright, Warleader?” asked the shaman.

“I’m fine.” Tobin opened his eyes. “You have a wife, don’t you?”

The shaman flinched. “Yes, Warleader. We married two years ago.”

“Any children?”

The shaman frowned. “No, we’ve had no luck yet.”

“How would you like to give your wife the child she’s always wanted?”

The shaman’s eyes widened as he realized what Tobin asked. He looked to the bed. “Warleader, I can’t just take the child home with me. He needs a great deal of attention. It will not be easy.”

“Then what better place for him to be than with a family absent of other children. He’ll have no one to compete with. Won’t your wife love him?”

The shaman nodded. “I know she will.”

“And you? Could you not grow to love the child?”

“Yes. It’s just . . . he deserves a good home and . . .”

“And he will be in a good home.” Tobin put his hand on the shaman’s shoulder. “Do this and I promise that you and your family will never want for anything again.”

The shaman blinked. “How can I say no?”

Tobin smiled. “Thank you. Stay with him tonight in case he needs someone.” He moved to the door.

“Warleader? If you don’t mind me asking, why does the boy concern you so much?”

Because I wished someone would have done the same for me once.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

* * *

Lucia ran out of Jober’s quarters, ignoring the pleas to come back and talk. Lucia had enough of talking. She had gone to them when she had no one else. She didn’t know if she expected comfort or justification for her mistake with Tobin, but she had not expected for Jober to act as he had.

She could at least understand Jober’s disappointment, almost like a brother in the way he treated her.

But what he said about Tobin . . .

A few steps later, Lucia entered her room. She slammed the door and barred it. She walked across the space onto the balcony. She ignored the view of the city, instead taking a seat on a small wicker chair.

Lucia thought about Tobin and wept.

Jober had always disliked him, but whenever Lucia had pried, he would quickly change the subject.

And now he gives me a reason.

The most unsettling aspect of Jober’s story was that he seemed to be telling the truth.

How could he make something like that up?

Lucia felt like a fool. She thought about Kaz’s snide references to Tobin differently as well as the looks Tobin gave Kaz in return.

I always thought there was a hidden love beneath a brotherly competition. But they hated each other.

She shook her head. Nothing made sense anymore.

Do I trust Jober based on a boyhood conversation?

She looked down at her belly and touched the life growing inside of her.

Or do I trust the father of my child?

Chapter 9

Elyse stood at the head of the table which others gathered around.

The large war room in the upper level of the fortress had enough space to hold twenty people comfortably, several more if attendants pressed themselves against the bare walls. Only half that number stood around the model of the High Pass. The raw emotions of those in command filled the space left vacant of bodies.

Since taking the outer wall, the invaders had only strengthened their position.

“I don’t understand. Why would they allow an entire day to pass without so much as a sortie over the killing ground?” asked Jeldor.

“I don’t know,” said Kaz.

“I thought those in command were your people. Wouldn’t Guwan keep the pressure on us, rather than letting up?”

“I know I would.”

“Then why doesn’t he?”

“The obvious answer is he isn’t in charge. Nareash is.”

“That makes even less sense,” said Jeldor. “He is a High Mage and someone who studied at Estul Island under Amcaro. It isn’t like him to make such poor military decisions over and over again.”

“Not unless he had a good reason to,” chimed in Elyse.

“Your Majesty?”

“The Nareash I knew would not hesitate if he felt victory was certain. Perhaps he doesn’t think he can win.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but he would be an idiot to not be certain of victory. He has numbers, power, and now better position than before.” He slammed his fist down. “We never should have retreated from the outer wall,” he said glaring across at Yanasi.

“I was following orders,” she said.

“My orders,” added Kaz. “Retreating back to the middle wall on our terms gives us a better chance of victory.”

“We never had a chance,” muttered Jeldor.

Kaz scowled. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of switching sides.”

Jeldor’s face turned red. “What is that supposed to mean! Is that a slight at my ancestors?”

Kaz stepped forward, ready to fire back when Elyse moved between them, raising a hand to each of their chests. “I’m sure Kaz meant nothing by his comment,” she said eyeing her commander.

She faced Jeldor. “His point however, is that your negativity is not doing anyone here any favors, and it is the last thing we need seeping into our ranks. We need to exude confidence that we will be successful regardless of private doubts.” She paused, narrowing her eyes, voice barely a whisper. “Is that understood?”

Jeldor blinked, looked away from her gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. I apologize for letting my emotions get the best of me.” He looked over her shoulder at Kaz briefly. “Just so we’re clear, I’m with you until the end, whether I die here, or of old age on my lands. You’ve shown me and my family more respect than anyone else ever has.”

Elyse nodded. “Apology accepted.” She glanced over her shoulder at Kaz. “You haven’t been the only one whose emotions have gotten the best of them. What do we say we adjourn? We’re only talking in circles now, and I think we could all do with a break. Commander, please stay behind.”

The others filed out of the room leaving her and Kaz alone. The door closed before either spoke.

Keep this professional.

“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” she asked.

“With Jeldor?” he snorted. “You should ask him. He was the one causing the disruption.”

“Yes. But I’ve never known you to slight one of your men like that. You know how sensitive he is about his past.”

The tightness in Kaz’s face faded. He rubbed his red eyes with thumb and forefinger, letting out a sigh. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him later.”

“Good. But you never answered my question.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say. I’m tired. Frustrated. Angry. Each day here is one fewer I can spend trying to return home. One fewer with . . .” his voice trailed off, catching himself.

“Your wife?”

“Yes,” He faced her, wearing a look of hurt. “I’m—”

Elyse cleared her throat, turning away.
Don’t say it.
“Well, if home is bothering you that much then I need to let you get back to work. The sooner we win here, the sooner I can help you return to Hesh.”

“Yes, of course.” He paused. “Your Majesty? Elyse? Jeldor is right. The odds are not in our favor.”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

She shrugged. “The odds have rarely ever been in my favor.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“I hate that we don’t talk as much as we used to.”

“As do I,” she reluctantly admitted.

“Can’t we go back to that?”

“Commander,” she started, careful not to call him by name, cognizant of keeping their relationship at a distance. “We can never go back to what we had before. Too much has changed. I think it’s better for both of us if we continue as queen and commander as we have these last few weeks.”

Kaz bobbed his head. “With the understanding that I will help you win this victory, and then you will help me return home. Nothing more?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He bowed at the waist. “May I be excused?”

She nodded.

Kaz left Elyse alone in the war room. Silence settled, broken only by the crackling fire in a hearth against a wall. She gazed at the flames, forcing aside her thoughts of Kaz.

Too many other things to think about.

* * *

Kaz closed the door and gently ran his free hand along the wood before releasing the knob with his other.

I wish I could say something to ease your mind, Elyse, but I’m afraid that has never been my strength.

He moved away from the door and jumped. Krytien stood waiting with arms folded across his round torso. Wisps of white hair fell in the mage’s face that he brushed aside before placing his hands into the sleeves of his gray robes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I was waiting so we can talk.”

Kaz started walking down the hall. “Can it wait? I’ve got some things on my mind I need to clear out.”

“I don’t think it can.”

Kaz stopped at the top of a stairwell. “What is it? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in a pretty bad situation. I’ve got a lot to do and more to consider.”

“That’s why we’re going to walk.” He slapped Kaz on the back and pointed to the stairwell. “C’mon.”

They went down side-by-side.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“A lot is bothering me,” chuckled Kaz.

“Have you talked to Wiqua about it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to burden him with my problems. He’s taken Hag’s death hard whether he admits it or not.”

“So have you,” said Krytien.

They stopped on the next landing. “I’m trying to work through my past. That’s all.” Kaz’s eyes drifted upward.

Krytien nodded. “Alright. I won’t pry anymore. Just do me a favor and talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be me.” He started walking again. “So, let’s switch to a lighter subject. What are we going to do when Nareash finally gives the order to attack?”

“You call that a lighter subject?”

Krytien chuckled.

* * *

Kroke dunked the rag into the bucket of pink water then wrung it out. He unsheathed a knife strapped to his chest, positioned it in his hand, and began cleaning the remaining blood and dirt that had accumulated in the various cracks and crevices of the hilt. He normally would have already seen to the detail work of cleaning his blades, but after the last assault, he had spent much of his time helping to ready the middle wall for the next assault. With his share of duties finally completed, he allowed himself a moment of solitude.

He wrapped the rag over his thumb, working his nail into a tiny join between the hilt and pommel of one of his rarely used weapons. He could not recall drawing it in battle, but it still needed his attention. While he rubbed away the grime, he let his thoughts wander.

His life since joining the Hell Patrol had taken him strange places where he had done even stranger things. Not once had he ever felt so personally vested in the outcome.

We deserve this. We need a victory here. We’ve been through too much, changed too much, hopefully for the better, to not succeed.

He gazed out toward the enemy.

I wonder if there’s someone on that side thinking the same thing.
He sheathed his blade and removed another.
If so, he better have more knives than I do.

A wicked thought began to take shape in his mind.

“You mind if I join you?”

Kroke looked up. Friendly, but shy, blue eyes stared back at him. Red hair in a tight ponytail hung over one of Yanasi’s shoulders. The dirt on her brow stood out on her pale skin. She carried a loaf of bread and a skin of water.