Trial and Glory (28 page)

Amateurs.

He smiled. “I’m sure your little game has worked on others so I hate to disappoint you, but I really need to be on my way.”

The swordsman opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped as Cassus kicked his mount into a gallop. Both men’s eyes widened as he came at the bowman, drawing his sword. The bowman panicked and loosed his shot. The arrow sputtered off to the right. The man threw his bow down and dove into a nearby ditch.

Despite his partner’s failure, the swordsman swung his sword. Cassus easily parried the blow. The impact jarred the blade from the robber’s grip. Both man and weapon careened to the ground.

Cassus rode past them, chuckling.

Fourteen years ago, he would likely have wet himself at the prospect of facing two armed men alone. Yet now he laughed.

How things have changed.

* * *

Stories picked up from locals informed Cassus that much of the fighting had occurred inland. As he journeyed away from the coast, the ravages of war became more evident. Farmland lining the roads lay trampled from passing armies. In some instances, sorcery had scorched the fields. Farmhands toiled in the earth, hoping to manage a small harvest before winter set in.

Cassus knew many of their efforts would fail.

It’s too late in the year. How many will die, not from fighting, but from starvation and disease?

A gaunt boy working next to his father tripped and fell into the overturned soil. Each movement seemed a struggle for the boy’s father as he helped the skinny lad to his feet. He whispered something to his son, then urged him to continue on.

Cassus’ hand drifted to the money pouch at his waist. He tossed several gold coins at the boy’s feet as he passed.

That should get them through the winter. I only wish I had enough to do right by everyone.

He kicked his mount forward before the boy or his father could respond.

* * *

Though he couldn’t wait to see his friends again, Cassus had promised himself when he first decided to return to Cadonia that he would make time to see his parents. Thankfully, their home was on the way to the High Pass.

How things have changed, indeed.

Standing in the space where the dining room to his family’s small estate had once been, Cassus felt numb. Pieces of blackened timber lay strewn amid broken stone walls and slate shingles. He had searched the rubble for hours, hoping to find some remains of the life he left behind, but nothing had survived the fire.

Given the destruction he had passed over the last several days, he should not have been surprised to discover the state of his parents’ home. Yet, the shock took his breath away.

Soft, crunching footsteps pierced the slight breeze that blew against his face. He turned as an old man maneuvered his way through the debris, hunched over and wobbly on his feet. He recognized the man as a neighbor who lived down the road. The years had not been kind.

I’m sure the same could be said about me.

“If you’re looking to steal something, good luck. The raiders who did this cleaned the place out before they torched it,” he said in a shaky voice.

Cassus avoided direct eye contact, not wanting to reveal his identity. “Raiders? How long ago?”

The old man looked to the sky while trying to find the answer. “Quite a few months back.” He squinted. “Did you know Mathen and Resha?”

Cassus flinched at his parents’ names. “Yes. I had hoped to speak with them.”
And make amends for running away
. His voice dropped. “But I guess I’m too late.”

The old man must have seen something in Cassus’ expression. “I’m afraid you are, but it had nothing to do with this. Mathen died a few years ago. Resha, the summer before last. They’re buried up by that oak,” he said, gesturing with his head.

Cassus scanned the ruins. “Who lived here when the raiders came?”

“A distant cousin. Can’t recall his name though. He made it out, in case you’re wondering.” He sighed. “Mathen and Resha had to pass their lands on to him since their only son died years ago.”

“Died?”

“No one ever saw the body, but it was assumed he must have been dead. Ran off and never heard from him again. There were rumors he joined a mercenary company of all things, but no one believed that. The boy wasn’t cut out for soldiering.”

Cassus snorted. “Is that so?” He paused. “It must have been hard on Mathen and Resha.”

The old man nodded. “It was. Though the One Above didn’t take them until years later, neither were the same after their boy left.”

Cassus turned his back to the old man as tears formed in his eyes. A mountain sat on his chest. Part of his fear of returning to Cadonia with Jonrell and the Hell Patrol had been the prospect of facing his family. He left under bad terms and for years doubted his departure had even bothered them.

And now I know it did. It would have been easier for me if the opposite had been true.

“Well,” said the old man. “I best be going. I was on my way to town when I saw you standing here. Just thought I’d see what you were up to. You take care of yourself, Cassus.”

Cassus wheeled, but couldn’t find the words to say anything. He watched the old man walk away.

He let out a long sigh, then strode toward the oak where the graves of his parents beckoned.

Welcome home.

Chapter 18

Mawkuk watched Durahn enter his tent with three captains. Standing a head taller than most, the massive Kifzo warrior immediately became the center of attention. The bull-headed man wore a scowl as he scanned the room of quiet attendants from the Gray and Yellow Clan.

Mawkuk offered his hand to the warrior. “I hope your travels were without issue.”

Durahn grunted, eventually taking the hand.

“Good.” Mawkuk pulled his hand away, trying to ignore the dull throbbing from the grip. He turned to the lean warrior on his right. “This is Larnak. He speaks for the Yellow Clan.”

Larnak stepped forward to offer his hand, but Durahn refused it, choosing only to nod in the awkward silence that followed. The Yellow Clan leader fumed. Mawkuk quickly took control of the situation, gesturing Durahn and his captains toward a table. “Please, help yourselves to food and wine while we discuss the latest news.”

Durahn and his captains dove into the assortment of bread and meat after first guzzling cups of wine. Between bites the Kifzo asked, “I received your last letter regarding the destruction of Tobin’s navy. Have you received any more word from the south?”

“Reports indicate that Walor has learned of the navy’s fate. He’s pulled out of the Red Mountain Clan’s territory and is working his way north.”

Durahn walked over, still gnawing at a bone. “Can the forces you left behind in the marshes hold Walor off?”

“Captain Turil and his men will get the job done.”

Durahn puffed his chest. “There are still Kifzo among Walor’s forces.”

“Not many. Most went off with Nachun.”

“Kaz should have killed the shaman when he had the chance. He was weak for letting his father make such a poor decision. Just like Tobin was weak for letting the man steal his best fighters.”

And a coward for killing my children.

“His mistake will work to our advantage,” said Mawkuk. He turned to a map. “We should reach the Blue Island Clan’s territory in the next two days. The coast a day afterward.” He moved his finger to the canal separating Hesh’s mainland from the Blue Islands. “We’ll cross here in the south then travel to Juanoq. I have a small force of one thousand men working some of our boats along the coast. The space here is narrow enough that by linking the boats together we can make a bridge of sorts to use when crossing.”

Durahn chuckled. “The distance even at the most narrow of portions is half a league. And you want to build a bridge of boats?”

Mawkuk eyed the warrior. “We’ve used the method many times on a smaller scale in the marshes. So long as your men do as I say when crossing it, we’ll be fine.”

“Watch your tone, old man. Don’t think you can order me around or—”

“Or what?” asked Mawkuk in an icy tone. “My army outnumbers yours. Or perhaps you wish to just kill me now and steal command?”

Durahn’s wide nostrils flared, and his hand swept out toward Mawkuk. Yet the blade that had materialized froze in his grip long before it could do harm. Durahn’s eyes widened.

Mawkuk narrowed his. “I have men watching out for me everywhere, shamans included. If any harm comes to me by the hands of you or your men, they have orders to slaughter everyone in your army. This is your one and only warning. Is that understood?”

Sweat beaded across Durahn’s forehead as he strained under the sorcerous weight pushing against his limbs. “Juanoq is mine,” he managed to say through gritted teeth.

“I never said it wasn’t. I couldn’t care less about the city. Do whatever you wish after we’ve taken it. I only want Tobin’s head and compensation for the suffering he’s caused us and the Yellow Plain Clan.” He stepped backward. “Let him go. I’m sure we can put this incident behind us.”

Durahn’s arm fell as the warrior regained control of his limbs. “You can have Tobin.”

“Good. Then our goals are once again in alignment.” He gestured toward the map. “Now, that is the path we will take to Juanoq. Once we near the city, then
,
as previously discussed, I will defer to you to penetrate its defenses.” He turned his back. “We can discuss strategy further in the morning. I assume you want to join your men and relay their orders.”

Mawkuk couldn’t make out all of Durahn’s mutterings as he and his captains filed outside, but he got the gist of it. Larnak moved up beside him.

“You know he won’t be satisfied with what you offered him. If we allow him to replace Tobin, we’ll be fighting Durahn within a year.”

“I have no intention of giving him Juanoq. I’m using him just as he thinks he’s using me.”

Just as I’m using you, and you’re using me.

“I see,” said Larnak.

I am sure you do.

Mawkuk stepped back to the map.

It won’t be much longer.

* * *

Durahn fumed as he left Mawkuk’s tent. He pushed aside any who dared to block his path, kicking over stacks of supplies along the way. He drifted back to his camp.

One of his captains spoke in a low voice. “Warleader, do you wish for me to take care of him?”

“You heard what he said about having men watching him,” Durahn said.

“We can find and eliminate them quickly enough. Or we can slip poison into his food, and make it look like an accident.”

Durahn hated to admit it, but what the Gray Clan leader said was true. Mawkuk did have the better numbers and superior forces. Durahn had been forced to create his army with the leftover warriors from the Orange Desert Clan that Bazraki had not felt worthy enough to fold into his own army.

And if we were to fight each other, the victor would not have enough to take Juanoq. I still need them, but only until the city is mine. Then he dies.

“No. The old man is posturing. Don’t concern yourself. Mawkuk will die by my own hand. But only when I’m ready.”

Chapter 19

Tears soaked Lucia’s shoulder. Sitting in her apartment, she wondered if Hielle would ever stop crying. She rocked her friend in her arms while trying to be strong, whispering that everything would be alright. She heard the lack of conviction in her words. Nothing made sense.

It had been days since Jober’s arrest, and still no one had been allowed to see him. The story conveyed to them by guards was that he had tried to kill Tobin in his bedroom.

Lucia had demanded to speak with Tobin. However, the guards would not listen, barring her from certain parts of the palace.

We’re left in the dark.
She felt a fluttering in her stomach.
And his child grows inside of me without him knowing.

She tried to hide her pregnancy by wearing looser clothing. She wanted to tell Tobin before she made her state known to others. But as time passed, it became harder to conceal.

* * *

“I said, let me through.” Lucia tried to push forward, but the solid wall the two palace guards presented would not budge.

“Turn around and leave. As we’ve told you before, Tobin does not wish to see you,” said one of the guards.

“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

“He did not give a reason.”

Lucia crossed her arms. She had grown tired of the back and forth arguments every day. “I’m not leaving. You’ll have to drag me away.”

The guards eyed each other. Some unspoken communication passed between them. One snatched Lucia by the arm and began dragging her. Lucia let her body go limp. The guard dropped his spear in order to catch her.

“Stupid woman! I don’t care who you once were. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll slap some sense into you.”

Lucia stared at him defiantly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“We’ll see.” He raised a hand.

“Touch her and die!” boomed a voice down the long corridor. Tobin strode toward them. Relief washed over Lucia. “Help her to her feet and release her,” said Tobin. “What’s going on?”

The guard obeyed. “She will not follow your orders. Every day she seeks an audience with you, and every day we tell her no. Today she refused to leave.”

Tobin met Lucia’s eyes for the first time. He looked tired. She noticed the heavy bandage on his arm, and realized it must have been the wound Jober had inflicted.

“Going forward, Lucia is allowed full access to me any time, day or night. Understood?”

The guards bowed. “Yes, Warleader.”

Tobin took Lucia by the hand and led her down the hallway. “We’ll talk in private.”

She allowed him to lead her, shameful to enjoy the tender touch of his rough hands against her own. He led her to his room, closed the door, and offered her a seat in a cushioned chair. Silence stretched as Tobin poured a glass of water for her. She did not sit until Tobin did.

Lucia took a moment to get comfortable while fixing her dress. She looked up and saw Tobin’s expression—mouth open, wide eyes staring at her stomach.