Invasion (9 page)

“Gerard was not involved and I wasn’t trying to escape,” Jeff replied. She didn’t expect that he would be so easy to trick but it had been worth a try.

“If I find out you’re lying it will go a lot worse for you.” Sylestra allowed a little menace into her voice.

“Worse than death? Or being sacrificed to your cruel goddess?” Jeff laughed a mocking laugh.

“Yes!” she shouted which silenced his laugh immediately. “Worse than death and being sacrificed. I have many painful tortures at my disposal and my ‘cruel goddess’ knows a thing or two about death. It is her specialty you see. I can hold you at the cusp of death for as long as I choose while inflicting the most pain possible. You will be begging for the sweet release of death and yet I will not allow it.”

“You’ll make a fine wife one day.” Jeff laughed which turned into a choking cough. “You’ll make your husband so happy with your chirpy personality.”

Despite her best efforts, Sylestra could not help but chuckle at his mocking quip.

“So who else is planning on escaping?” she asked.

“No one to my knowledge and I wasn’t trying to escape as I tried telling your ugly guards.” Jeff uncurled himself a little and looked at her with narrowed eyes and clenched teeth.

“Yes, yes, you were just inspecting the rail for damage. A little dangerous doing so with the carts rushing by isn’t it? And a little dark to see much without carrying a light source.” It was Sylestra’s turn to mock.

“I didn’t realise it’d be so dark and I thought with the carts continuing by it’d better show me where they were having trouble.”

“You were in there some time. Did you find the problem?” Sylestra thought that if his story was remotely plausible she may not have to sacrifice him after all. Perhaps some other severe punishment for not following protocol would suffice. 

“It proved to be too dark. I stayed in there for long enough to watch a few carts go by on different sections of the track but I saw no obvious problem. Perhaps the problem was with the cart itself.” Jeff worked his way up onto wobbly legs and took a couple of steps to the wooden bench where he sat down.

“Did you inform any of the other workers what you were doing?” Sylestra took a step closer to the cell. Jeff’s glanced at her legs and back up again. She took pride in her appearance and whether she wore tight fitting riding outfits as she was now or her most elaborate gowns, she always attracted the attention of men — and a lot of women for that matter — and she thrived on that attention and used it to her best advantage.

“No,” he replied quickly trying to cover up the indiscretion of his wandering eye. “It was a spur of the moment act.”

“One that may cost you your life,” replied Sylestra.

“As a poorly played sword stroke can do. Life is full of dangers.” Jeff’s voice was low and defeated.

“Bad decisions increase those dangers.” Sylestra heard a metal gate open and turned to see the head guard returning with a necromantic healer by his side.

“See that he is fully healed. I will question him further when he is in a better state.” She walked by the guard and healer with their heads bowed and left the dungeon. Now for the next item on her growing list.

Master Pilk awoke from a fragmented sleep. The constant pounding of ballista bolts against the dwarven plug keeping him on edge. He felt groggy and unfocused but he could sleep no more and so he got up and sought out breakfast.

The fort remained silent with the exception of the loud banging as every soldier appeared lost in thought. Master Pilk could see the crumbling wall from where he sat eating his porridge. Dwarves still worked relentlessly on it, trying to strengthen shattered stone and timber with the limited resources at their disposal. The wall would not hold out much longer. Soldiers stood in formation around it for that inevitability while archers perched along the nearby walls and buildings with bows at the ready.

“Where is Duke Angus?” Pilk asked the soldier next to him.

“I hear he went to visit the King last night. Master Tayer took him.”

“I hope he returns with good news then,” replied Pilk.

“I hope he returns with five thousand men.” The soldier laughed which proved infectious to all those within earshot.

Master Pilk joined in and his spirits improved. Despite the circumstances, morale still remained high.

He hoped that continued.

After his breakfast he stood near the Gate and waited for all the wizards to arrive. They looked dishevelled.

“I’ll make this brief as time appears short. All those willing to stay for the fight please raise your hand.” Master Pilk was not surprised to see the Arthean wizards’ hands go up immediately. A few other hands hesitantly went up.

He waited and continued to look around the group.

Finally more hands went up. It proved contagious and soon every wizard in the group had raised their hand. A strong sense of pride washed over Pilk and he couldn’t contain his smile.

“I thank you all. I know the fear you must be feeling right now but if we stick together we can overcome this. Now, we have much planning to do and very little time to do it.” Master Pilk started explaining his strategy to them based on what he observed from the attackers last time they attacked. “We must stick close to one another so that we can coordinate our attacks and so that we can retreat with a moment’s notice.”

After an hour or so of developing and refining his strategy, Master Tayer joined them.

“The Duke has returned?” asked Pilk.

“He has,” replied the old wizard.

“I hope he has good news.” Pilk repeated his words from earlier that day.

“He has news. I’m sure he’ll wish to see you when you have the time for it.” The grim expression on Tayer’s face did not sit well with Pilk and he hoped that the other wizards did not pick up on it.

“I’ll give you a quick rundown on our strategy and then I’ll go and see him. Then I think you should get some rest. It looks to be a very eventful day.” Pilk explained the strategy after a nod from the old wizard. Tayer had a few things to add which Pilk appreciated and together they refined the strategy even more and added contingency plans.

Once Pilk was happy that everyone understood their duty, he went off to seek Duke Angus. He found him in his tent accompanied by King Buster, General Ludko and Major Hillsworth. All appeared grim.

“I came as soon as I was able, my lord Duke.” He entered the tent with a slight bow of his head and took the closest seat.

“That is quite all right, Master Pilk,” replied the Duke. “To bring you up to speed quickly, King Cassien cannot send any support. Witchwyn is under siege by the Raziyans.”

“Witchwyn?” The report hit Pilk like a ton of bricks. “What are they doing sieging Witchwyn?”

“It seems that our support of General Krak’too’s army did not go unnoticed. They mean to punish us. King Cassien was less than impressed.”

“They will punish us, but not in the way they think. Likely they’ll be punished too once the Ta’zu gain a foothold on our world,” replied Pilk sombrely.

“It may well be,” said Duke Angus. “Nevertheless we are on our own, at least for a time, until the siege is broken and the Raziyan’s driven back.”

“And that will happen?” asked Pilk hesitantly.

“The King believes it to be a matter of time. However time is not our friend at the moment. Are all the wizards staying?”

“They are, much to my relief. They are making preparations now.”

A loud crash from outside along with much shouting got their attention.

“It looks like the time for preparation is over,” said Duke Angus jumping to his feet.

Chapter 8

Ultimatum

Sylestra awoke early, refreshed after spending the night in her own bed. She sent for Gerard during her breakfast knowing that there would be plenty of fighting today and she wanted to be warmed up and ready.

She squatted near the edge of the Salle doing her stretches until he arrived. He looked dishevelled and had the unmistakeable smell of dead meat about him.

“They didn’t bathe you first?” she asked as he walked into the room eyeing her.

“They thought it urgent.” Gerard smiled.

“It is, but a quick bath goes a long way.” She stretched out her legs and her pulse quickened when Gerard stole a glance or two her way as he headed for the armour.

“Should I go and demand one then?” Gerard reached for a gambeson off the rack.

“No, you are here now. You will need one after we are done anyway. Your gambeson is finished. It is over there on the bench.” She pointed to the far wall and then resumed her warm up stretches.

“Funny, Sarai made no mention that she had completed it.” Gerard picked up the garment and inspected it closely. “It looks very well-made.”

“She is a fine clothier.” Sylestra turned to him. “But perhaps you were too busy discussing escape plans with her and so it slipped her mind.”

He gave no hint of panic or recognition at her words.

“Escape from this place would be quite impossible I should imagine and where would I go if I did manage such a feat?” Gerard put on his gambeson as he spoke. It fit him perfectly. “My one chance home is through that Gate and I have no doubt that it is guarded by hundreds if not thousands.”

The torso section was a dark-brown, the long sleeves black. It wrapped snugly around his neck and flared out under the wide black belt which he now buckled up over the black padded pants.

Sylestra walked over to him and tightened the buckles that ran up the centre of his torso. “You will have no excuses now,” she said with a smile.

“I made no excuse before,” he replied as he watched her tighten the buckles with one raised eyebrow.

“So you admit to having thought about escape then?” She finished tightening the last one and turned toward the sparring floor and walked purposely out onto it.

“It is a soldier’s first duty when he finds himself imprisoned and is drummed into him continuously from his first year onwards, so yes I have thought about it.” Gerard walked over to the weapon’s rack and as he neared he paused and looked back at her. “You’re not using a weapon today?”

“You can pick one out for me.” She gave him her most cheeky smile. To her surprise he picked out the scimitar and dagger combination she favoured.

“I like a challenge,” he said with an equally cheeky smile as he walked over and threw the weapons to her. She caught them and readied them in an instant expecting an immediate charge.

It didn’t come.

He laid his wooden great sword on the floor and stretched.

“I can’t have you all loosened up while my muscles are still tight.”

“You can tell a lot from a fighter by letting them choose a weapon for you,” said Sylestra as she relaxed her stance.

“So that was a test?” asked Gerard.

“Everything is a test.” She watched the large man go through his stretching routine and admired his ease of movement which was so rare in someone his size.

“So did I pass?” He smiled at her which to her surprise made her heart flutter.

“You chose my favoured weapons which shows that you are either stupid, or that you thrive on testing yourself in order to improve your own skills.” She twirled the weapons around in her hands to get used to their weight and balance.

“And which do you believe I am?” He looked up at her from the floor as he stretched out a long muscled leg.

“I don’t believe that you are stupid,” she replied.

“Always full of compliments, aren’t you?” He stood up and shook out all the kinks in his limbs.

“Were you aware of Jeff’s intentions of inspecting the tunnels?” she asked.

Once again he gave nothing away. “Jeff is his own man. He acts instinctually which makes him a great fighter, but not always wisely, which sees him landing in trouble.” Gerard picked up his great sword and had a few practice swings.

“So was he trying to escape?” asked Sylestra.

Gerard laughed a hearty laugh.

“I doubt it. If he was trying to escape I suspect he would have succeeded. I’m not sure why he went into that tunnel.” Gerard held his sword at the ready and circled around her. She rotated on the spot to keep an eye on him but made no threatening move.

“He said he was inspecting the tunnel for a flaw that caused two carts to collide.”

Gerard stepped toward her and swung his sword hard. She blocked it with ease and he disengaged and stepped back.

“Then that is what he was doing. He is a man of many skills and when he sees a job that needs to be done he’ll jump right in and do it. He is not suited to the life of slavery.” A hint of anger came into the mighty man’s voice as he lunged.

She swatted his sword away with ease and countered, but he proved too quick and had already stepped beyond her range. The extra range he had with his great sword would make it hard for her to get in close enough for a suitable attack.

“I have given you all an alternative. It is an opportunity I give to very few. If only you would realise its benefits.” She made a move on him and swung her blades in a blur of motion and with perfect precision but hit nothing but the wood of his weapon. How could he swing such a cumbersome weapon so fast?

“Merely a different form of slavery and when you grow tired of us or we are no longer useful, you would sacrifice us to your disgraceful goddess.”

So he knew. She wasn’t overly surprised as the threat of sacrifice was used daily to keep the slaves in line and she had been told on a number of occasions he had visited Sarai, who had recently lost her partner to the mass sacrifices needed to begin the war with the Black Skull.

“You still do not see the bigger picture, do you Gerard? The people in the slave compounds were once living on the streets or are the offspring of such ones. They would have lived much worse lives there I assure you, and shorter lives. How many in my compounds would not even have been born if I had not gathered their ancestors’ years before? I have provided them with a life they otherwise would not have had and for that I ask that they give that life back for the greater good.” They shared another quick exchange of swordplay until they stepped back from each other again.

“You do not own them. They are intelligent beings and should be entitled to live as they choose.” Gerard raised his voice and looked to be barely in control of his anger.

“I do own them, for without me they would not exist,” she screamed. “Are not your cities filled with the poor and homeless? What is the average lifespan of such ones? Twenty? Thirty? And they are years crawling the streets in search of whatever food scraps they can find, begging the more fortunate for a copper or two and living in their own filth where they are constantly sick and depressed. You dare lecture me on justice while you support a society that will see people live thusly?” Sylestra felt the heat rise in her body. She was not accustomed to being so questioned. Normally she would kill someone showing such insolence but Gerard was too valuable to her and he had been brought up with these strong beliefs.

She had too. But she had left that depraved society many centuries ago and formed this much improved one.

“And it is better for not only them but the rest of society. Those with money are not hassled in the street, nor do they need fear theft of their possessions from such ones or being murdered for their money. Cities are more pleasant to traverse without the homeless lining the streets and more appealing to the eye without the hastily erected shacks that some call homes.” Sylestra stood poised for his next assault but it did not come.

He stood there mulling over her words. “You paint a pleasant picture but as I’ve not seen your cities I can hardly accept or deny such things. Even still, why sacrifice them at all? Why not let them live out their lives and die of old age?” His barely controlled rage had calmed and he started dancing around her again.

“Because the world is full of enemies and like any civilisation we must fight to protect our way of life. Our goddess, Nefari, fights for us but demands a sacrifice in return. By such sacrifices it strengthens her and she in turn strengthens her chosen ones. It’s a beautifully simple cycle.” Sylestra took a step toward Gerard and lunged, thinking him distracted. He pushed her sword out wide and stepped back out of range of her dagger thrust, reversed his sword and hit her dagger with such force that it flew from her grasp.

“And you’re her chosen. How convenient for you,” said Gerard with a wicked smile.

“I am more than her chosen. I am her saviour.” Sylestra took delight in seeing the smile vanish from his face. But it wasn’t for long as he burst out laughing. She thought to take advantage of his distraction and retrieve her dagger but he came on in a fury.

His strikes were harder than he had ever struck in the past and were reverberating through her hands. Worried about her sword breaking, she tried to deflect more than block but his swings were well aimed and left her little choice. He brought his sword in a hard downward slice. She positioned her sword for a block just in time but her concern was realised as her wooden sword snapped in half and his sword continued on its way and struck her on top of her shoulder painfully.

He retreated a step and stood there with concern written on his face. A drop of blood, her blood, trickled onto the floor and only then did she realise that he had clipped her ear on the way down and blood flowed freely from it.

“You are defeated,” he said with no real victory in his voice. “Had that been a real blade it would have near sliced you in two.”

“Had it been a real blade it would not have broken — at least mine would not have. I accept the defeat however.” The ringing in her ear almost drowned out the sound of her voice.

“So you’re the saviour of a goddess. Just how did you manage that?” Gerard placed his sword on the floor, walked over to her and examined her ear.

“I provided her with the means to escape a doomed world.” She did not usually share her history and couldn’t understand why she did so now. “Without me she would not have been able to pass through the Gate leading to this world and would have been starved of worship. A god without worshippers will eventually die out.”

“And how long ago did this happen?” asked Gerard as he pulled her ear back which sent a jolt of pain through her head.

“Many centuries ago,” she replied, trying not to flinch or shout from the pain.

“You are certainly in good shape for your age then.” Gerard chuckled and the laugh proved infectious.

“I guess Nefari is as much my saviour as I am hers.” Sylestra pulled away from Gerard and looked into his deep brown eyes. He looked into her eyes with an indeterminable expression. This man stirred emotions in her she had long thought lost.

“Your ear needs attention. I’d say it needs stitches only I have witnessed first-hand the healing powers of your magic users so I doubt they’d use such crude measures on someone as important as yourself.” Gerard turned away and went to retrieve his sword. As he did an orc entered the Salle.

“Excuse me, Supreme Mistress, but I have news about the captured human that I thought you should hear before you left.” The orc bowed his head and walked over closer to her.

“Well let’s hear it then,” she barked, a little agitated by the intrusion.

“Perhaps a little privacy?” The orc looked at Gerard and back to her.

“It is his closest friend and concerns him as much as me, so out with it,” she replied.

“We found evidence that the slave climbed an access ladder and crawled along the ducts above. His prints end at a vent which leads to the other side of the compound wall.” The smile on the orc’s face told her that he believed she would be delighted by the news. Normally she would be but she didn’t really want to sacrifice Jeff. But perhaps there was a way to make this work for her.

“Where is the slave now?” she asked.

“He is being transferred to the Sacrifice Prison as is the law,” replied the orc.

“He is mine,” she snapped. “No one else is to sacrifice him do you hear?”

“I understand, Supreme Mistress. I will see to it at once.” The orc hurried off after her gesture of dismissal. Turning to Gerard, she could tell he got the sense of the conversation.

“It looks like your friend lied and attempted escape, or at least looked for a means to do so.” The ringing in her ear eased but it was replaced by a painful throb. She put a hand over her ear, muttered a few words and released a little magic to ease the pain and stop the bleeding. She would deal with it thoroughly once she finished with Gerard.

“And the law states that any escape attempt is punishable by death.” He stared at her with contempt in his eyes.

“All slaves are given a copy of the law as you were and are expected to abide by it. He knew what he risked.” She matched his stare with her own.

“And are you powerless to make exceptions? I thought you were the mighty leader of this tribe.” Gerard gripped the wooden sword in his hand tighter.