Heretic (The Sanctuary Series Book 7) (8 page)

“Aren’t you a paladin now?” Cyrus asked Terian, feeling once more as though he’d been turned in a circle quite rapidly.

“Paladins protect other people; it’s our highest law. Aren’t you facing enemies that set a trap for you using your former wife’s signature and then stole your sword right off your belt while your back was turned?” Terian asked, now serious. “These people are treacherous dogs and you’re
not
a paladin. You’re a man who’s surrounded by his enemies and is about to be run through on all sides. If you want to try and fight them fair without Praelior, you
can
do that.” He shook his head. “But I wouldn’t bet on your survival, and neither would anyone else. You need to be the General again, the one who valued his army’s lives so much he never got in a fight unless he had six tricks up his sleeve.”

“Assuming I—” Cyrus quit his question right in the middle of it, running his gauntleted fingers over his forehead and coming back with their tips moist. “I don’t know how I would even approach this, assuming I bought into your conceit about an unfair fight.”

“How would you have approached it when you were in the Society?” Terian asked, once more looking especially sly. “This is a fight for survival, Cyrus. They started it. They’ve wanted you dead all along, now they’ve just snapped it to highest priority. They will come at you with everything, and it’s not just you—it’s your guild, it’s the people you care about, it’s your allies—they’re going to come at us, in any part of Arkaria where the Leagues hold sway. You can meet them in honest battle if you want. I know you tried the more deceitful tack with the titans and didn’t like the taste of treachery, but these bastards are going to do their best to crush you, and they’re not going to do it cleanly or politely or honorably.”

“Yeah, but I learned from my mistake with the titans not to buy into unfounded assumptions,” Cyrus said. “Like believing that they were going to teleport into the north when they couldn’t.”

“Do you believe Goliath is
not
going to come for you?” Terian asked, arms folded. “Because I think they’ll siege the Sanctuary guildhall the moment they believe they could win. They’ll pull the wall down brick by brick, or blow it open with Dragon’s Breath, and they’ll come in and slaughter everyone, then set up their headquarters there. It’s what Malpravus has wanted all along; he didn’t even need an excuse to do it before, but now he’s got one, and Sanctuary is weaker than it has been since Enterra.” Terian took a step closer and looked up at Cyrus. “You’d better get ready. You’d better prepare to do the ugly things. You’re not a paladin; you’re a warrior and a heretic, and they’re going to come at you like you’re one. They will beat you any way they can, and they won’t care about the high-minded ideals of Alaric Garaunt, even if you do.”

“Doesn’t that mean I should care more about them?” Cyrus asked quietly.

“Your tribe is growing smaller by the minute,” Terian said. “When it’s all done washing out, Sanctuary is going to have less than a thousand members. You will be strained. They will attack us—all of us—in ways we can’t predict.”

“The sidewinders,” Vaste muttered under his breath.

“This is the last stand against Goliath,” Terian said. “It’s going to be you or them this time.”

“Make it you,” Kahlee said quietly. “I hate Malpravus. You, I like—though I think you should be—”

“Taller, yes, I get it,” Cyrus said.

“I was going to say meaner,” Kahlee said, smiling at him.

“If you follow their lead,” Terian said, stepping right up to Cyrus, “if you wait for them to move before you counter, you will lose. Their attacks will be merciless, their treachery unfathomable. Malpravus … he knows no law but power, and he will do anything, say anything, to anyone, in order to get what he wants.”

“If I sink to that level … I’ll be as bad as he is,” Cyrus said. “Do you not recall? I led an expedition that started a war with the dragons in order to smear the titans—”

“
Smite
the titans,” Terian corrected. “They ended up pretty damned smited. I’d take that as the lesson.”

“We lost—”

“You will lose more,” Terian said. “Get ready for it. This is war. You can no longer try and merely be the Guildmaster of Sanctuary, Cyrus. Alaric never attempted to be both, and for good reason. You need to be the General again.” The lines on his face softened. “I’m sorry, my friend. I truly am. I wish this weren’t so. I wish that all in Arkaria were good and virtuous people, seeking nothing but to live in peace.” His gaze hardened again. “But they aren’t, and you need to make a decision. Give it some thought. Mull it all over. Talk to Vara about it. These people … they want to destroy you because they couldn’t control you, and now your very existence threatens their control over everything else. They won’t let you live, and they won’t hesitate to wipe out anyone standing near you for fear that if they let even one live, they’ll never be able to regain that control again.”

“Where is your lady wife this fine day?” Administrator Cattrine Tiernan asked Cyrus as they walked through the woods near Emerald Fields. There was a rustling sound between the branches, and a flock of birds broke loose from a large oak to their left. Cyrus could see his guard within fifty paces of him, but he and the Administrator were speaking in whispers so as not to be heard.

“She sends her regrets,” Cyrus said, “but she’s staying at Sanctuary to oversee the defense. We’re … running a bit thin on help at the moment.”

“Yes, Terian told me,” Cattrine said, causing Cyrus to miss a step.

“Terian told you?” Cyrus hurried to catch up, avoiding the natural ups and downs of the wooded path. “You two have regular meetings?”

“As good allies and most favorite trading partners should, yes?” Cattrine frowned slightly.

“Sorry,” Cyrus said, shaking his head, “I just had a recollection of the times in Luukessia when you and Terian did not, er, see eye to eye.”

“A trip across the seas and a change of responsibilities for each of us has had a wonderful leveling effect on our perspectives,” Cattrine said. “Also, he’s considerably less of an arse now.”

“Indeed,” Cyrus said, walking along beside her. “And what does our present predicament look like from your current perspective?”

“Altogether grim,” Cattrine said quietly. “At least, on your side. You stand in the midst of all your enemies once more. It is becoming something of a pattern with you.”

“I’d love to be standing elsewhere, I assure you.”

“Yet you’re not,” Cattrine said, glancing at his scabbard as the new sword rattled within it at a hard step. “I have heard of your history with Goliath, and I know of Vara’s past with this Archenous Derregnault—”

“You know an awful lot.”

“It pays to know much when one’s country is so little,” Cattrine said, not turning back to look at him. “You would be wise to do the same.”

Cyrus felt a stiffness in his chest. “It’s not the first time someone has suggested I employ more spies and listeners. I doubt it’ll be the last.”

“In statecraft, honor is not assured,” Cattrine said. “We must deal with loathsome people.”

“Like Terian?” Cyrus asked with a smirk.

“Terian is by far the least loathsome of the leaders of the major powers,” Cattrine said with a shudder. “Paying tribute to King Danay over these last years has convinced me more than ever that I must never let myself become more than an administrator bound by the wishes of the people. And your Human Confederation—”

“They did pronounce me heretic and cast me out, so I don’t think they’re really
mine
anymore.”

“—and its Council of Twelve, a messy, prideful batch of oligarchs supping on the veins of what was until recently the most powerful nation in Arkaria?” Cattrine shuddered in disgust. “I’m thankful I don’t have to deal with them and can go directly to the Confederation territorial governors. At least the dwarves, gnomes, and goblins are more reasonable. Ancestors, even the trolls have more honor.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “You deal with the trolls?”

“I deal with anyone who has coin or trade,” Cattrine said with a slight smile. “In case you missed it, in the last two years Emerald Fields has risen up to become nearly its own nation, for we are supplying the foods that half Arkaria eats.”

“That was fast,” Cyrus said, cocking his head as he looked at her admiringly. “But it couldn’t happen to a more worthy people.”

“Well, we’re hardly out of it yet,” Cattrine said, clasping her hands together behind her back. “After what the titans did to us last year, we’re still building and rebuilding the settlements, but at least our crops are in place. Our prosperity grows, and the armies we have are enough to make good a fight if our putative ‘allies’ in Pharesia decided to bring one.” She looked sharply at him. “We are in far better condition than you at present.”

“Everyone keeps pointing that out to me,” Cyrus said darkly, “as though I don’t already know.”

Cattrine stepped closer, her expression guarded. “I can never tell what you know and what you ignore anymore. You built a small nation and a massive army in the Plains of Perdamun, winning title to that place from all powers … and yet you never treated it like a nation, and now it is fast becoming a no man’s land.”

“I had … other concerns on my mind in the last year and more,” Cyrus said, laughing bitterly. “The titans, for one.”

“I am aware,” Cattrine said seriously. “But … it is incumbent upon you to lead now, and to do the things that leaders do. Even the unpleasant ones,” she added with a little bit of a point to her words.

“Did you and Terian discuss what path Sanctuary should take in all this?” Cyrus asked, getting the distinct feeling that he was behind the curve once more. Birds tweeted overhead while he awaited Cattrine’s answer.

“We did,” she said. “But ultimately, the Sovereign of Saekaj Sovar and I can discuss your course all day and it matters little.” She leaned closer, her gaze intense. “We could both counsel war against these adversaries, but you will be the one who has to take up the burden, for you know my state is watching its own borders and Terian’s greatest focus is on his. You are the vulnerable one in this, the one who’d need to lead and put himself out front. You are a bold and brave warrior, Cyrus, and you have won many ugly battles against fierce foes, but now you face the whole land turned against you in a way you haven’t before, and it comes when your strength is ebbing.” She looked away to where a sparrow sang in a nearby tree. “I cannot decide for you to fight this. In fact, I heard your first instinct was to surrender to it, and that does not exactly instill confidence in me or your followers.”

“I was trying to spare them—” Cyrus let out a low breath and lowered his head. “Do you know what a heresy charge brings in its wake?”

“I’ve heard,” she said. “It sounds most disagreeable.” She snapped her green eyes onto his as she brushed her long brown hair back over her shoulders. “But you are being corralled by most corrupt forces. Two guilds which can only be described as evil, and two nations whose leadership is … well, let us say, unpleasantly divided.”

Cyrus frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Statecraft,” Cattrine said with a sigh, turning away from him. She began to walk off but held up a hand to stop him from following. “I have matters to attend to, Cyrus. You need to decide, and quickly, if your misadventures in the south and your ambush by Bellarum have stolen all the fight from you. For you have a long and dangerous one on your hands, and while we in Emerald Fields are most certainly your allies …” she stopped and turned, looking somehow taller than he could ever recall seeing her before, so different from the woman in the muddied dress he had met years earlier when she came to him to bargain from a position of weakness, “… but we are not fools, and I will not lead my nation into war with a General who has lost all heart for the fight.” She gave him a small smile and then walked off purposefully to rule her country.

“That all sounds a bit dismal,” Vara said after listening to Cyrus’s description of the day’s events. They sat on a couch in the corner of the Tower of the Guildmaster, the balcony doors open and a light, chilly breeze blowing in. He’d found Vara on the walls at his return, watching the empty horizon for signs of trouble. A cold, sunny sky had lingered overhead until the last hour, when it had begun to sink over the horizon, the mountains to the south visible out the far doors, the snow-capped peaks turning purple.

“Cattrine spoke to me as if I’d lost all heart for battle,” Cyrus said, still stinging from his former lover’s rebuke.
From anyone else, it might not have carried the same weight. From her, it felt like a slap, a judgment, a pox on my damned soul.
Vara did not stir, but her face bore a look of great discomfort. “You feel it, too,” Cyrus said after a moment’s breath.

“You are not perhaps as … ornery as you once were when it comes to battle, no,” Vara said. “I sense no lack of courage on your part to plunge into danger. More a lack of willingness to send your armies into the fight.”

“We have lost so many friends, Vara,” Cyrus said. “I have sent people to their deaths in more fights than I can count, and the cost has been dear. And for the last few years, we’ve been taking increasingly harder hits. Narstron, Niamh, Alaric—though he may still be alive, I concede—your mother, Nyad, Odellan, Cass, Belkan, Thad … Andren …” He said the last one hollowly. “We’ve seen good people die in corners of Arkaria where they didn’t need to.”

“I hear the list of names you speak, but I can’t shake my feeling that this is all down to your defeat at Leaugarden, isn’t it?” Vara asked quietly.

“It’s down to death, everywhere,” Cyrus said. “I chose the path of battle, and so did our guildmates … but it doesn’t make it any easier when they die and I live. Until now, at least I had the luxury of knowing I had a sword that helped even the odds in these fights. With Praelior, victory, if not assured, was certainly more likely.”

“You are more than a sword, Cyrus,” Vara said. “You were always more than a sword. You defeated the Dragonlord without Praelior and led us into Purgatory without the damned sword—and with fewer numbers than any of the Big Three boasted at the time.”