Trial and Glory (6 page)

It would need to be subtle.

“Yes, I’m sure I could.”

* * *

Nareash walked through the massive camp while considering his conversation with Guwan. He had recruited the Kifzo because of the man’s potential. However, the qualities that once appealed to him, gave him a headache instead.

It is no longer a matter of if he’ll defy me, but when? What was it that Gauge once said? “A man who isn’t harboring his own agenda, is one who is no longer breathing.”

Nareash had been gone so long from Cadonia, he wondered what the noble busied himself with. The two had a falling out shortly after Nareash discovered the scepter. Words were exchanged, some the High Mage knew he would never forgive. However, he could not help but feel some sorrow that the man who saved him from the streets had turned into nothing more than a fleeting thought. He remembered another one of Gauge’s gems.

“Don’t let anyone hold you back from your goals. No matter who they are.”
He grunted.
I wonder if he realized I wouldn’t let him hold me back either.

He took a deep breath, ready to let out a long sigh, but paused. The smell of dinner reached his nose, reminding him he still had not eaten in some time.

Later. After I’ve had time to think.

Nareash eyed the men congregating around large bison carcasses roasting over campfires. Fat dripped into the flames, sizzling before sending thick smoke into the air. The High Mage noted that in any other camp he would not have heard such distinct sounds. Conversations of the army itself would likely have drowned out the meals cooking.

Yet, other than a few mutterings, little was said among those by the fires. They either stared blankly at the dancing flames or bitterly in his direction. He knew that he was the cause of their mood and for that he was glad he could not make out what few words they spoke.

Heads quickly shifted away from him. He realized that his hands had started to glow. He took a deep breath without breaking his stride. The glow faded.

I can’t let my anger get the best of me. Not now. Not when there is so much to consider. So much that could go wrong.

He cursed anyway.

“Master? Can I help you with anything?” asked Colan.

Lost in thought, he had forgotten that the shaman had followed him after leaving the command tent.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s Guwan.”

Nareash noted Colan did not ask a question, but made a statement.
Another whose intelligence at times has become a nuisance.

Since the shaman did not ask for an answer, Nareash chose not to provide one.

They walked in silence, past countless rows of tents. Nareash crinkled his nose as he crossed a bridge over a series of latrines. Leaving the camp, he ascended a small rise of rust-colored rock. He looked down at the army that spanned leagues in the wide valley of the Cataric Mountains. The valley floor narrowed as it continued through the range until gradually sloping upward to the curved outer wall of the fortress. The wall’s shape reminded Nareash of a mocking grin, the gate a tongue.

Nareash spat.

“Do you want me to take care of him?”

“Him?”

“Guwan?”

“No. He’s the best commander available.”

I’ll deal with him in my own way if needed.

“He isn’t what’s troubling you?”

Nareash lied. “Nothing is troubling me.”

“Then Master, what about these delays?”

Nareash turned slowly, his voice growing cold. “There have been no delays. Are you trying to insinuate I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“No, Master. Of course not. It’s just that the strategy has been confusing and very different from what you talked about in Hesh.”

“Things change, Colan. Only a fool would marry himself to one strategy when new facts present themselves.”

“So you’ve said. But I don’t understand. What facts?”

“Ones that you wouldn’t understand.” Colan started to open his mouth but Nareash presented the shaman his back. “I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

A long pause followed. “Yes, Master.”

The shaman’s footsteps trailed away as Nareash continued to stare at the fortress. Colan’s last question dominated his thoughts.

What facts?

Nareash replayed the events from the first day back in his head.

Five thousand men. Dead in a matter of moments.

Recoiling from the remnants of power emanating from the fortress, he had ordered a full withdrawal immediately, not even attempting to counter the attack. His allies asked him why, but he refused to give them an answer, knowing they wouldn’t understand.

Elyse brought the scepter with her. And the fool of a woman actually gave it to someone.

Hezen had mentioned underestimating Krytien, the Hell Patrol’s mage yet again. He pointed to the five thousand men who had died as evidence of the mage’s power.

Nareash didn’t believe it.

No one has that kind of power.

And that was the crux of the problem. He had to know Krytien’s capabilities.

Why doesn’t he just take control? Does he not realize what he has? What are his goals? Why hasn’t he succumbed to the temptation of the power the scepter offers?

Nareash shook his head at the last thought. No one, not himself, not even Sacrynon, had been able to resist the scepter’s allure.

The first attack against us had to be dumb luck. He
must
be less skilled than Hezen thinks.

Nareash wanted to believe that, but past mistakes would not allow him to be so dismissive. He had to be certain. High Mage Amcaro had bested him because of his overconfidence.

Never again.

He would continue testing Krytien.

It’s time to start putting more pressure on the mage. And once I know the true extent of his skill, I will destroy him.

* * *

Guwan’s eyes darted around the command tent, moving to each of the officers allowed inside for the planning session. He noticed the disgusted faces of his Kifzo captains.

Strategy or not, anything other than victory is a failure.

His gaze rested on Hezen. A smug grin formed on the man’s face. Guwan looked away, pretending indifference as he folded his arms. He had avoided the man since their discussion the night before, but that didn’t mean that their conversation hadn’t weighed on his thoughts.

I know he wants to play me against Nareash. He views us as the two people standing in the way of his own goals. He thinks he can manipulate me.

Guwan decided he would not be a tool for anyone any longer.

The small conversations in the tent ended as Nareash strode inside. His red robes hung loosely from his thin frame, and the fabric shimmered from the light of the braziers.

As usual, Colan trailed the High Mage. The shorter shaman took a spot in the man’s shadows.

Nareash took his position next to a model of the High Pass. He looked up to Guwan. “Are the men rested?”

He nodded. “They’re ready.”

“Good. Tomorrow’s attack will be the largest since our initial assault.”

Finally.

Nareash pointed to the left of their camp. “We’re bringing up half of the siege equipment.”

“Why not all of it?”

“Because I said so.”

Guwan clenched his jaw, but said nothing.

“Now,” Nareash continued. “You’ll attack on the left and center only. Colan will be bringing in a cabal of mages to assault the right.”

“Why don’t we spread both the mages and towers out? We’ll never take the wall like this.”

Nareash stood taller. He stared across the table. “Remember our last conversation, Guwan. This is the plan for tomorrow.”

“But—”

Heat crawled along the Kifzo’s insides. Sweat poured out from his skin. He struggled to breath. The room spun for a moment until the heat dissipated. He managed to gather his bearings as Nareash reached across the table, handing him a cup of water. Guwan drained the contents.

“Were you saying something?” asked the High Mage. He wore a knowing smile.

Guwan shook his head. “No.”

“Good.”

Nareash went back to the model. Everyone closed in around it. Guwan noticed Hezen staring at him while wearing a frown. The man shrugged.

Guwan knew what that look meant.

* * *

Crouched behind a large boulder, Guwan looked to the sky. It would be dawn in a few hours, and he had yet to sleep. He squeezed the bridge of his nose while blinking away his tiredness. Three young Kifzo sat across from him. They slept in silence.

Guwan took a deep breath, hoping the fresh air would offset his weariness.

A small scraping sound came from below, barely perceptible to the untrained ear. Guwan peered over the top of the boulder where a fourth Kifzo approached. The newcomer joined the others behind the rock formation, careful not to draw attention from the camp’s sentries.

The other three opened their eyes as he sat beside them.

“We have some time before the guard’s next pass,” said Itken. The veteran eyed the other three Kifzo while shifting the weight of the pack on his shoulders. “Is this another of Nareash’s poor ideas?”

Guwan grimaced. “No. Nareash doesn’t know about this.”

Itken grunted in what seemed like approval.

“You know as well as I do that he’s making a mistake. I have reason to believe that Nareash may not make it through this siege.” Eyes widened at the news. “Yet, that doesn’t mean that we must suffer defeat,” said Guwan.

Guwan pulled out a crude map he had constructed on a piece of leather. He traced a finger through the mountains. “Itken, there is a small goat trail here. You will lead this group through it. It dead-ends near the fortress. The area is guarded so you won’t be able to follow it the entire way. Travel should be manageable with only the four of you. Try not to kill anyone. I don’t want you to raise any alarms.”

“You want us to infiltrate the fortress?”

He nodded.
Something I wanted to do sooner, but Nareash denied me.
“It should be possible if you go around to the back and enter through one of the drainage chutes at the base.”

“Who is the target?”

“Kaz.”

Itken tensed.

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No problem.”

Guwan studied the Kifzo briefly. “Good.”

“Although Kaz is the priority, also see to their other captains. I hear there is a woman among them who commands a great deal of respect from the soldiers. Focus on her and the ones working their siege equipment.”

Itken nodded. “Their mages?”

Guwan thought about what Hezen said about Krytien’s skill.

Let Nareash and Krytien kill each other.

“The mages are unimportant for now. Kaz and the rest of their leadership is what’s holding them together.”

Chapter 5

Mawkuk shielded his eyes from the red glow of the setting sun as he scanned the expansive plain before him. The flat land of the Yellow Plain stretched out farther than he could see. He longed for the murky swamps of his home, but knew it would be some time before he could return to them.

He spat to the side of his mount, hoping to rid himself of the odd taste in his mouth brought on by breathing the air of the plain. His shoulders bunched as cicadas took up another annoying song.

Revenge is better suited for the young. It should be my children avenging me. Not the other way around.

Many in his position would have been angry at their children for having done the things his had done to him. Soyjid made him appear incompetent in order to take his place as ruler of the Gray Marsh Clan. And Odala, his sweet daughter, had taken Tobin as a lover.

He shuddered.

At the time, he felt betrayed by his children. Then he learned that each had died while conspiring to manipulate Tobin and take down the Blue Island Clan.

How can I be mad at them for doing what I lacked the nerve for? They sought to raise our clan up.
He squeezed the reins in his hand.
I will not let their deaths be for naught.

Since leaving the Gray Marsh and combining his forces with the Yellow Plain Clan, they had marched at a brutal pace. He knew timing would be everything if his plans were to succeed.

He turned in his saddle, eyeing the thousands traveling in his wake, trampling a path through the high grasses swaying in the warm breeze.

Even with Durahn, will we have enough?

Mawkuk had not seen Juanoq in years, but his scouts had given him detailed reports of its formidable defenses. He had some thoughts on how best to penetrate them, but doubt lingered.

It comes down to Durahn. If Soyjid’s reports were true, Durahn would have built some of those structures as part of his training. If he doesn’t know how to take down his own home, then who will?

He scanned his army again. A speck off in the distance sped along the outside of their columns, without slowing its pace.

He called for a halt, his stomach clenching.

Let this be good.

The rider reined in, out of breath. His horse seemed on the verge of collapse. The rider dismounted, bowed, and held out his hand. “I have a letter from Captain Turil.”

“Stand up and tell me. I’m sure you have the news memorized.”

The rider obeyed. “Your plan was a success. The Blue Island Clan’s fleet stationed in the Gulf of Eurinol is destroyed.”

Mawkuk’s heart raced. “Completely?”

“I watched the last ship burn and sink into the water myself. We gave no quarter.”

“Excellent.” He reached out a hand for the letter, which the rider gave to him. “Get yourself some food and rest. I’ll have a message for you to take back after nightfall. Keep this news to yourself for now.”

The rider bowed again and left.

Mawkuk turned to an aide waiting. “Give the order to make camp for tonight. Call for a meeting in my tent in half an hour.”

The aide rode off.

Mawkuk unraveled the letter and read. He allowed himself a smile.