Trial and Glory (2 page)

A thick mass of black fog hung thirty feet over the fortress. Red mist descended from the fog toward his army on the outer wall. When the spray met the soldiers, streaks of crimson spurted while bits of armor and weapons flew off in countless directions.

Men screamed.

Nareash’s mouth dropped as his men erupted in gouts of blood. He had read about such sorcery only once before.

In the historical records of Aurnon the First’s conquering of Cadonia. Performed by Sacrynon himself.

He fumbled with the spyglass to get a better look.

His army ran away in terror. Men on the walls tried to climb down the ropes, ladders, and siege towers. Others simply dove over the side, chancing their lives on what awaited them below.

No one has the power to do this.
A frightful thought struck him.
Unless he has the scepter.

Nareash thought of Krytien’s troubled look again. It reminded him of a man struggling with immense power.

His stomach sank.

* * *

Guwan stormed through camp with a narrowed focus. Covered in gore, and more furious than he had ever been, he resembled something out of a child’s nightmare. No one dared step in his way.

All he could think about was how close he had come to victory, nearly proving himself against the best. Beating Kaz would have elevated him in the minds of the Kifzo, even with his superior numbers.

But that blasted mist changed that.

His pace quickened.

While training as a Kifzo, he had seen things that would make most men vomit, but never had he seen anything like that. Bits of armor, flesh, and bone took to the air like swarming locusts.

While Nareash did nothing.

Not that it mattered. Colan and the other shamans had managed to protect enough of the men. As the mist faded, Guwan had readied his men to renew his assault.

Guwan pushed himself through Nareash’s tent unannounced. “Why did you order a withdrawal?” he yelled.

Nareash and the old scholar, Mizak, looked up from a worn leather book over which they leaned. The thin High Mage furrowed his brow. He snapped through clenched teeth. “Watch your tone. The men were getting slaughtered. I thought that was obvious.”

“You care about these pathetic warriors less than I do,” he fired back. “Who cares how many we lose when thousands wait to take their place?”

“Those thousands were losing their nerve,” said Nareash.

“By the time the mist started to dissipate, the Kifzo had already begun to unite them.”

“The risk was too great.” Nareash rubbed his temple, taking a deep breath. “Reports indicated that five thousand men died from the mist alone. Whether it had begun to dissipate or not is irrelevant. There is no telling if it would have happened again.”

“You sound like you don’t know what the mist was.”

“I never said that.”

“Is that why you didn’t do anything about it?”

Nareash’s nostrils flared. “I
chose
not to do anything today because I’m not willing to rush into something unexpected without more knowledge!”

Guwan knew he should not push more, but his frustration was too great. “What do you mean something unexpected?”

Nareash lowered his voice. “They have a weapon. A weapon similar to the ones I hoped to find when we journeyed to Quarnoq.”

Guwan grunted. “Even with that weapon, they barely held their position. We should have pressed.”

“No. What you saw was only a glimpse of what that kind of weapon is capable of.”

“Then why didn’t they continue their attack against us?”

“I don’t know.”

Guwan’s tone softened slightly. “Can you stop it?”

“Of course I can stop it,” Nareash snapped. “I just need more information.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Keep the men motivated, and hide the truth. Make them think that everything went as planned. Most of them are idiots anyway. None of what I just told you leaves this tent. Say nothing to even Colan or Hezen.”

“Why?”

“Just do as I say. I haven’t steered you wrong yet, have I?”

Guwan shook his head.

“Good. I’m counting on you.”

* * *

After the tent flap closed, Nareash closed his eyes and canted a spell. Anyone else who came near the entrance would immediately forget themselves and wander off. He didn’t want any more interruptions, not when he had so much to consider. When he finished, his hands trembled. He tried to tell himself that he was tired, but he knew better.

I thought with Amcaro dead I wouldn’t have to face the scepter. But now . . .

He turned around where Mizak had resumed studying the text. It wasn’t just that Nareash had to face the scepter.

Krytien is too much of an unknown.

Amcaro had always been a reserved person, careful with his powers. Nareash knew if the two faced each other again in battle, Amcaro would lose, with or without the scepter.

Krytien is a soldier. One Above knows how he thinks.

“I’m surprised you told him as much as you did,” said Mizak.

“It was necessary. He’s in command of the army. I need him on my side if we’re to succeed. Besides, he may have a strong military mind, but he’s not ambitious, at least not past what he sees.”

“Is that why you refuse to tell Hezen and Colan?”

Nareash grunted. “You already see the kind of man Hezen is. He calls himself an emperor without having an empire. Colan . . . I’m not sure about.”

He plays the loyal apprentice, eager to learn, but I played that game once.

“And I’m just an old man interested in his books.”

“More or less.” He pointed at the musty smelling book. “Do you think you can translate it?”

“Eventually. You know, when I took those books from Hezen’s library, I didn’t think they would be of any interest to you. Otherwise, I would have started looking at them before the others.”

“I was interested. I had just planned to look at them myself after we took the High Pass,” he hissed.

Mizak squinted. “Where are these from again?”

“The old Quoron Empire. Except the language is different than what I studied at Estul Library. Coded. We need to find the key that will make sense of it.”

“And you think it contains information about this weapon you mentioned?”

“I’m able to recognize a few words, and those lead me to believe so.”

“I’ll get started immediately.”

* * *

Wailing moans and blubbering sobs jarred Krytien from unconsciousness. He tried to sit up. A black hand pressed against his chest, holding him against the cot.

“Not yet,” Kaz said. Bags hung under the commander’s tired eyes. A new cut ran across his chin through his neatly-trimmed goatee.

Krytien blew out a long breath. “How long have I been out?”

“Half the night. How do you feel?”

“Like someone dropped a mountain on me. Even my eyelashes hurt.” He paused. “Please tell me you didn’t wait here the whole night for me to come around.”

Kaz smiled. “No. The old crew’s been with you in shifts. Yanasi’s got the wall. I just took over for Kroke.”

“So we managed to throw them back?”

“For now.” Kaz reached over and patted Krytien’s arm. “Thanks to you. If I had known all this time that you could do that—”

“No. Don’t ask me to do that again. I used the spell out of desperation, and only because I thought I had taken adequate precautions.” He shook his head. “The other mages couldn’t help me as much as I assumed. I almost killed myself trying to contain the power.”

“But you did contain it.”

“Barely. One Above knows what would have happened if I hadn’t.”

“I understand. We’ll just have to figure something else out.”

Krytien sighed. “When do you think they’ll attack again?”

“I don’t know. You’ve given them something to think about, though. They don’t look eager to try again tonight. I’m taking advantage of the time they’re giving us, especially since Jeldor came up with the rest of our forces.” He stood. “Get some rest. We can manage for a little while without you.”

Kaz left, stopping briefly to speak with Wiqua on his way out of the infirmary.

Krytien stared at the ceiling.

Am I ever going to learn my lesson? Or am I destined to keep tempting fate?

He had just started to close his eyes when the Byzernian settled in beside him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted.” Krytien rested a hand on the old man’s arm. “How are you doing? I’m sorry about Hag.”

“So am I. But it was her time. I just hope she did enough good to outweigh the bad. Underneath that gruff exterior she had a tender heart.” Wiqua cleared his throat. “Now, tell me what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“On the wall. What went wrong?”

Krytien chuckled. “I performed a spell I had no business trying.”

“I disagree.”

“You weren’t there.”

“I didn’t need to be there. I’ve seen you work. I know what you’re capable of.”

“What exactly am I capable of?”

“Anything.”

“You sound like my old master. He swore I had more potential than anyone he’d ever seen.”

“You do.”

“A lot of good that potential does if I keep endangering the lives of others. The spell was too difficult, and it required too much power.”

“Almost all forms of sorcery endanger the lives of others. Even what I do. The spell you performed did not require too much power. You simply introduced too many variables by relying on others rather than yourself.”

“Then why—”

“Stop!” snapped Wiqua.

Krytien blinked. Normally soft-spoken, the old man’s tone took him aback.

Wiqua’s voice softened. “Quit arguing, and listen to me for a moment. Your problem is that these more dangerous spells affect your focus since you know they have a greater risk of harming others. What you need to do is practice something extremely difficult in private, something that will affect no one but yourself. That way the pressure of repeating Asantia, which I know still weighs heavily on you, is not possible.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Elyse stared out from the balcony of the great keep. She looked past the furious activity on the walls where her army worked by torchlight, and focused on the valley that widened toward the enemy’s camp. Thousands of fires, varying in size, shone brightly in the black night. Somewhere among those fires walked a man she thought she would never see again.

You tried to warn me he was still alive, didn’t you Amcaro?

Her skin crawled as she thought of her last meeting with High Mage Nareash.

I wish I could go back and stab something a little more vital than his shoulder.

A knock came at the door.

“Enter,” she called, turning from the view.

Kaz walked in wearing a troubled expression. Still dressed in his armor, he brought with him a smell of musk and death. Elyse wasn’t sure if she had ever seen his shoulders hunched so far forward or his head hung so low.

It’s like he’s carrying a great burden.

He closed the door. “I saw your light was still on.”

“It’s fine,” said Elyse. “Dawn may be only a few hours away, but I won’t sleep tonight.”

“I’m not sure when Nareash will attack again, and I needed to speak with you.”

“About our forces?”

“Actually, about more personal matters.”

Elyse’s breath quickened. Since their kiss a couple weeks ago, they had spoken little except about matters of the army or her kingdom. She had expressed her feelings for Kaz, but a flash of his past had ruined the moment.

“It’s about my memory,” he continued.

Of course that’s what he meant. He wanted to speak in private when we were in Conroy’s dungeon, but then news of the High Pass interrupted us.

Despite all the doubts and questions she had about what Kaz’s memory would mean for her, she managed to put them aside. She went to him, grabbed his hand, and led him to two chairs facing each other in the corner. When settled, she put on her bravest face.

“Tell me.”

Kaz still couldn’t recall everything from his past, and the timeline of certain events became muddled. However, he did remember a great deal of the life he had left behind.

Elyse became overwhelmed with both fear and sorrow. It scared her to know that places in the world existed where young children would be trained and encouraged to do such heinous things as the Kifzo had been forced to. Her fear grew when she thought about the man across from her taking part in those things.

But then she looked past those acts and saw the torment plaguing Kaz. Compassion outweighed her fear.

“I pretended I enjoyed those things. But I never did. Not that it excuses my behavior, but the pressure placed on me to live up to my father’s standard was overwhelming. I should have stood up to him.” Kaz grimaced. “Everything I feared about my past has come true.”

And the knowledge is devastating him.

Elyse hated herself for finding comfort in his devastation because it meant that the knowledge of Kaz’s past would not change the man she loved. Her heart sped at the realization that he wanted no part of his old life.

“Then you’ll just have to stay in Cadonia and create new, better memories.” She thought of the battle before them, and sighed. “Perhaps not right away. But hopefully soon.” She smiled, trying to lighten his mood. Then she pressed further. “Maybe we can create those memories together.”

She waited for a response as the first hints of a false dawn crept into her quarters. Elyse realized they had been speaking for some time.

Kaz closed his eyes, and swallowed. “I can’t stay. I’m sorry. I-I never meant to hurt you, I just didn’t know the truth.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I have a wife,” he whispered, opening his eyes once more.

Her stomach dropped. The room spun.

A wife?

Kaz’s hand reached out to touch hers. “Are you alright?”

She reflexively pulled it away, blinking. “Yes. Of course.” Clearing her throat, she gathered herself and straightened. “So, a wife? What is she like?”