The Godlost Land (21 page)

“Then your wizard is a capable enchanter and smith. We could use his skills.”

They could. But they would need the combined luck of Tyche the Blind Mistress of Fortune and the persuasive gifts of Plutus the Trader to get him to help them Nyma thought. The arcane smith was bitter and distrustful to an extent she had seldom seen before. He was also extremely angry. In fact when Geron had confessed, for a while she thought she'd seen the wrath of Lyssa moving in him. And he showed absolutely no desire to help anyone but himself. She suspected he had good reason for being the way he was – as sadly did many. But Theris was right. They could use his skills.

For the moment though there were more important things to worry about than one annoying smith. There was what they had already learned from Geron.

As a pair of soldiers came to lift Geron off his horse – bound as he was he couldn't dismount without falling to the ground – they began to tell the commander what they had been told by their prisoner.

They were still telling him as they entered the building and took the stairs down to the dungeon. The place that she hoped would be Geron's last home. Before he swung from the end of a rope.

Once they reached Geron's cell Nyma knew a moment of pure pleasure. It was cold and dark, just as it should be for someone like him. It had little in the way of comforts, just a pile of straw in a corner for a bed. Best of all it had a heavy iron door that he would not be able to break through. Not without his magic. It was the perfect place for the traitorous wizard. And it was the home he deserved.

“In you go wizard!” She gave him a little push to get him moving and was a little disappointed when he didn't fall over. “It's better than you deserve, but at least it'll only be until they've finished the gallows!”

And if the look of terror on his face when she said it wasn't enough to please her, the sound of the heavy door slamming shut with a final thunk was. At least something good had come of the day. For a while as they'd ridden with Geron, she'd thought the day couldn't actually get any worse.

“Now you two –.” Theris suddenly addressed them as if they were soldiers under his command. “I want you to tell me everything this wizard has said. And everything the inquisitors will need to ask him about.”

Inquisitors! Nyma suddenly realised that she liked that word. In fact she decided as she followed the commander out of the dungeon, she liked it a lot.

At last things were becoming brighter.

Chapter Fourteen

It was nearly a month before Harl had his next visitor, and when she showed up at first he didn't realise she was one. But then Harl was in the town selling his furs and buying his provisions, when he noticed the part dryad woman. She didn't seem all that important until she started turning up wherever he was at the same time as him.

He didn't recognise her. That wasn't unusual. There were a lot of people in town these days. A lot of new faces. Even a number like her with mixed blood. They'd come out of hiding and started walking among the rest of the townsfolk ever since it had been freed of the temple. So he didn't think much about the woman – until he suddenly realised that wherever he went she seemed to appear soon after. She followed him into and out of stores, around the streets and then spoke to the people he'd just spoken to. She was even nearby when he sat down for a rest.

It seemed she was following him.

Harl cursed a little under his breath when he realised that. He had just been starting to feel good about life again. He'd finally started letting a little light creep into his dark world. Even a touch of hope. Whitebrook was happy. Not quite as happy as the last time he had visited. There were less drunks lying in the street, and the ones in the alehouse weren't singing any more. But still people were smiling, children were running around, and things seemed busier than they had been in a long while. Life might not be perfect but still there was a feeling of hope in the air. People sensed the chance of a future. And unexpectedly he sensed it too. He wouldn't put his faith in it, but he still had a little hope.

The outcasts were in town too. Those like him who had run and hid all these years could once again be seen and it was good to see them out in the open again. Good to be identified as one of them. He had been sickened by having spent years in worn out leathers pretending to be a simple trapper, and having had to bend his knee every so often to the temple. So to be able to walk the streets in his armour with his great sword at his hip, was a source of pride for him. Even if he'd worn his old travelling cloak over the top of it just in case.

It was clearly the same for the other outcasts as well, and they walked a little prouder, a little taller as they carried their weapons openly. Some he understood had joined the High Priestess in her battle, and he had no doubt that they would make powerful allies. You couldn't spend all those years running and hiding and fighting without learning a thing or two about how to kill a beast. But the thing that impressed him most about the outcasts was their number. Even while he was there he saw at least a score of them wandering the streets. That was more than he'd ever encountered as he'd wandered the wilds in the past five years. Obviously more had survived than he'd guessed. It was a reason to celebrate.

The strangest thing he noticed though as he'd wandered about on his business was that there were priests in town. Not the priests of the false temple as everyone said they had been. Other priests. He'd spotted one in the robes of Helios further down the street – the bright yellow colour of the sun god's priest was hard to miss. And one of Dike Astraea's priestesses had been working on her shrine when he'd walked into town. Priests were walking about the town in their formal robes. That was a sight he hadn't seen in a long time and it made him feel good.

He'd even heard it said in the shop that as well as some of the old shrines being visited by their respective priests and restored to their former glory, the priests were also talking about holding services. They were looking to bring the faithful back. That was an amazing thing, and he was even thinking that if and when Hera's shrine was repaired he should make an offering. Perhaps even attend a service if there was one. He wasn't really a follower of any of the gods, but his family had been followers of Hera, and it would feel right to honour her with a tribute in their names.

Maybe in time they would even welcome the return of some of the feast days. Celebrations in the name of each of the deities. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a day. A long time since anyone had. Hera's day wasn't so spectacular; all it involved was just giving gifts to honour parents and grandparents, and of course large meals. But Dionysus' day was wondrous. The wine would flow as would the song, and the women would be welcoming. Harl was definitely looking forward to the return of that feast day.

So maybe some of the people's happiness had rubbed off on him? Some of that hope. Enough that even after the shock of learning the truth of who had destroyed his world he had actually started thinking there might be a future. So much so that he had even started working on his home. Not just covering over the worst of the holes, but patching some of the broken wooden slates on the walls. Replacing some more of the thatch on the roof. He had even sanded down the door so that it didn't stick any more. All the little jobs he had never done before because he had always imagined that he would be moving on in time. Now though, he was starting to hope that he wouldn't have to leave again.

But spotting his tail he wondered if he had to reconsider. 

The war of the temples was progressing well according to the bards who had started travelling once more. Once the false temples had been destroyed and the nearby towns were being freed the bards had picked up their lutes and lyres and taken up their old trade once more. They had tales and songs of great battles to bring to the town in exchange for a few coins. Tales of massive armies and hordes of griffins. Of false priests being torn apart and temples burning. Only this morning he'd heard of more towns liberated and a city soon to be under siege. It was the city of Midland Heights that they were talking about, the only true city in the kingdom. And it sat at the heart of the Rainbow Mountains. It was the seat of the kingdom's power and the home of its king. That was until King Julius the Third had been killed along with his entire family. Gutted by a fury so they said.

Harl had also heard that recruiters were in town, looking for men to join the burgeoning army that was being raised to tear down the false priests in the city. And that tariffs were being called for by the leaders of the new army. Grain mainly to feed the soldiers, plus some other supplies and whatever weapons and armour could be scrounged up.

But people were happy to pay. A few were even joining. In fact it was said that they were coming from every town in the Rainbow Mountains as it was freed and that the High Priestess' army was growing to enormous size. It would have to if they were to conquer Midland Heights. But still it was a worthy goal to aim for. If Midland Heights was returned to the people then one of the five kingdoms would fall with it, and the Rainbow Mountains would be free.

Maybe he should join? Maybe. It was a thought that had been with Harl for a while. He truly wanted to. And it wasn't just to satisfy his desire to kill those who had murdered his family. It was because he knew that if the realm was free than he was safe. Safer than he had been in a long time. But against that there was the fact that it would be a tough battle. Midland Heights was a big city and it had massive fortifications. Many would die trying to take it. And he was a swordsman not a soldier. An outcast. He could fight and fight well, but he knew nothing of fighting as part of an army. Nothing of strategy and tactics. And in the end what could one extra blade really do?

Reluctantly he turned to look back at the woman following him and waved her over to where he sat on the wooden pew. It was one the innkeeper Vittus had placed outside of his inn for guests. Hardly anyone ever used it, but then hardly anyone had stayed at the hotel for the past five years. Not since the attack. But the innkeeper had started repairing the leaking weather boards in the front of the building, and done some work in the front garden as well as he prepared for guests. Certainly the place looked a little less run down than before. No doubt Vittus was hoping for more custom in the future. Perhaps he had reason. There seemed to be more people in town these days.

He wasn't alone of course. All around the town people were doing similar things. Making repairs that should have been done years before. Tending to gardens. Staining timbers and washing walls. Not only did it show that they had hope for the future, it suggested to him that they were still revelling in their new found freedom.

But Harl couldn't be as sanguine as the others. Not when he knew the truth about how this nightmare had begun. The shame of knowing that it had been his own people – wizards – who had caused this was a constant weight on him. It was a betrayal of everything he had ever believed in. But at least he could try to take a little cheer from the people as they celebrated their new found freedom.

The woman came over, giving him his first chance to actually study her.   Judging by her hair which looked like a tangle of twigs and leaves he guessed her to be about a quarter dryad. But there was little else of the dryads he could see in her. Even her skin was free from the markings.

She looked surprisingly athletic he thought and her skin was well tanned as if she had spent a good part of her life out in the sun. A soldier of some sort perhaps, despite her small stature. The manner of her dress suggested the same.

She wore a long pleated skirt – an uncommon garment in these parts – belted over a white cotton vest. Meanwhile a long woven jacket went over the top, and it hung open in the way a soldier would wear one so that he could reach for a sword. If he had to guess from the stiffness of its movement over her body as she walked, she was wearing a long knife underneath. Either that or a short sword was belted to her waist and then pushed back a little so that it couldn't be seen from the front. But it was the shoes that usually told you most about a person and she was wearing boots. Fine leather riding boots. That suggested to him that she was someone used to life out in the open, not in the home. Soldiers knew the value of good boots.

“Who are you and why are you following me?”

Harl had decided to be direct if only because he was too tired to be anything else. It had been a long morning and there had been a lot of walking involved. Besides, if she objected
to his manner
he thought it would be easy enough to simply stretch out a leg and push her backwards with it, over the railing for the horses to be tied to and into the trough. She might be upset but at least she'd stop following him.

“Who said I was?”

The woman stared defiantly at him, her eyes studying him intently. At least as intently as he was studying her.

“You know, you look cold standing there. I have a coat in my pack that might just fit.”

“I'm not cold!”

But she said it just a bit too fast and her voice was just a little too high pitched. Which fairly much told him that she knew about him and his coats. But he decided to have some fun with her anyway.

“Really? But I think it would look very good on you and it's rude to refuse a gift.” He turned to his side and pretended to reach into his pack.

“No!” This time she did screech – just a little bit.

“Well then, if we're done playing games. Who are you and why are you following me?” If she knew about the coat after all – and she had just fairly much proven that she had – the rest followed.

It took her a moment to accept that she'd given herself away, and then another while she glared at him unhappily. “You know, they said you were difficult.”

“And I would guess that I know who the “they” are. But I still don't know who you are or why you're following me.”

Some days you just had to keep repeating yourself until the words were finally heard. This, Harl decided, was looking like it was going to be one of those days.

“I'm Marni Holdgood and I was sent by the High Priestess Erislee Moonsong to ask you some questions.”

That surprised him a little. She didn't look like a priestess, or at least she wasn't wearing the robes of one. But who else would a High Priestess send save one of her calling? Who else did she have authority over? Her soldiers maybe? In any case if he'd thought anyone would send someone to bother him it would be Nyma. She who kept visiting him and was supposedly the High Priestess' sister. He still wasn't completely convinced of that. It could be. Dryads did not always view the bond of marriage in the same way others did. And maybe the High Priestess was a quarter dryad even if she did look completely human, while Nyma who looked to be pure dryad was a quarter human. Maybe. And maybe the moon was made of aged milk.

“Fine. Ask your questions.”

He guessed it wasn't a choice. High Priestess Erislee Moonsong's name was one that was held in high regard these days. Hers was the name that conjured up hope in the hearts of the people. And while she might not have any actual position, if someone had been sent by her to ask him some questions, refusal would be seen in a poor light.