Twixt Heaven And Hell (39 page)

“I’ll be here. I’ll have dinner waiting!” Pendrick said with a sudden smile. He was not the equal of his wife in preparing a meal, but he had learned much from her and enjoyed showing it.

***

"Here is the Armsmaster's inventory, conducted last month," Callos said, handing a sheet of parchment to Arric.

The Council Leader studied the numbers with his customary thoroughness, making little noises in his throat as he came upon items of at least menial interest. Then he reached the bottom, where the Armsmaster had written a short scrawl giving his own summary of affairs concerning his station. Arric's eyebrow's raised and he looked at Callos.

"Did you speak with him when you received this?" Arric asked.

"I did."

"And did he deign to give any more explanation for his decision to -" Arric dropped his eyes back to the ink, reading directly. "'Use the leisure provided by the winter months to cease production of traditional armor and apply all men and materials towards the creation of the scale armor favored by the Gryphons'?"

Callos nodded. "He did. He claimed that, provided our resources are adequate, to continue creating the old style of armor when the new had proven far more effective was a waste."

Arric grunted. "Just as long as production does not suffer," he said. His face grew more somber. “I think that our 'leisure' will prove all-too short. As soon as the snows melt, Traigan will strike again. He'll want to regain the momentum he lost at Threeforts, to make the most of the gains he acquired last year."

"I agree, as do many of us," Callos said, speaking for the Council. "Darius and I had an interesting conversation a few days ago. I asked him if the Fists might not be useful as scouts in force, able to penetrate the Enemy borders and report back on the disposition of reinforcements and supplies."

"His opinion?"

"He said that, for the time being, his own Gryphons were the only group he would trust with a mission so dangerous. He claims that, as one of their greatest strengths is their ability to flee danger, it would not yet be wise to place the other Fists in a mission that may lead to their being trapped."

"It is a good thought, though," Arric mused. "More knowledge of what is going on behind the border may help us annul the advantage the Enemy have in Firewalking – and that must remain our top priority."

"Yes," Callos responded. "Arric, there is one more thing, a small thing, but I thought you should hear it as it concerns the Gryphons."

Arric sighed. "What is it?"

"There has been a strange rumor going about Bastion in the last few days, and I would not have given it more thought save that a pair of Generals have approached me to ask about it. Apparently, some of the Gryphons were claiming that they were setting out to attack Fortress Nebeth."

With a laugh, Arric's shed the concern that had screwed up his features. "Attack Nebeth? Don't be absurd. It has as much weight as any other rumor."

"Yes, exactly my opinion. However, given that such stories are so seldom heard stemming from the Gryphons I thought it might have more to it."

"Of course not," Arric replied quickly, then looked thoughtful. "Though they are usually too disciplined to make up such claims. If anything I'd had the impression that the Gryphons tended towards taciturnity."

"Thus the reason I passed it on to you. It is unusual."

"Either way, it is still absurd. The Gryphons are on a training march, and Darius is not even with them."

"Perhaps it would be better to ask him, though. Where is he?" Callos asked. The Council Leader, of old habit, still kept rather close watch on Darius – though lately the man had been kept out of trouble by his duties in research. Ethion was too staunch and worthy a man to let Darius get out of hand.

"With Ethion and the rest of his group, conducting another test," Arric answered. "They left the city this morning. I'll ask him when he returns."

Chapter Forty-One

The wizards trudged single-file, leaving a snaking path of churned snow as they wound through the shallow hills. The site of the original trial of the counterspell – which had left Darius incapacitated for nearly a day – had become the location from which all their tests were carried out by decision of the Council. An arbitrary decision, but even Darius agreed that the starting point mattered little – so long as it was far enough from Bastion to avoid alarming anyone.

Each man was carrying a heavy pack, filled with food. Waterskins hung from every available strap. With fortune, they would need only a fraction of what they carried, but Darius had insisted that each man bring everything he could. Some of the wizards tread clumsily, unused to the burden. They received little sympathy from the captain of the Gryphons.

They reached their destination shortly before the sun had reached its zenith. "Drop your packs and rest," ordered Darius. "We've a few moments before we must begin."

Gratefully they all did as they were bid, and Darius caught more than a few of them casting glances back towards Bastion – the highest points of which were still visible over the hilltops. Some of the looks were wistful, some sad.

Pendrick, oddly enough, had one of the most stoic expressions. Balkan's loss had affected the young man greatly – much as it had Emanuelle, Darius remembered. Young men with young wives, the both of them. Pendrick must have felt the eyes on him, for he turned and looked back at Darius. The two men held that gaze for a long moment. Darius could not have guessed what went on in Pendrick's head. For himself, he realized that this man, young though he was, was knowingly risking more in accompanying them than Darius had ever had to risk.

He felt a fleeting sadness at that – his entire life had belonged to the War. The two men he'd ever truly called 'friend' were both gone – and Darius could only hope that both were, in fact, dead.

Then he marveled at Pendrick's bravery – To feel for the cause greatly enough to risk a life full of happiness, a wife, perhaps a family, all for the sake of their mission.

Darius bowed low. Pendrick, surprised, returned the gesture after a moment. Darius finally turned away when Ethion tapped him on the shoulder, then wordlessly motioned to the sun overhead.

It was noon. It was time.

Hoisting his pack back onto his shoulders, Darius called out, "If anyone has a last moment objection to raise, here is your chance."

There was silence for a moment. Then, to Darius's alarm, Alexander stepped forward with an apprehensive look. He glanced about the circle that had formed, then back to Darius.

"I'm cold," he said gravely. "We should wait until spring."

A chuckle from somewhere amongst the wizards was the first reaction, and Alexander's grim expression broke, replaced with a grin. Soon all of the wizards were laughing, some shaking their heads at the joke. It had been just what they needed, though. Somber though their task may be, they needed to keep their spirits up.

"This first spell will be only a mite shorter than our furthest attempt," Darius announced, telling the wizards what they already knew. "It will place us over half the way towards Nebeth. My Gryphons should already be waiting for us."

He motioned to Alexander, who'd been elected to direct the first spell. One by one, the wizards opened themselves up to him, pouring forth the magic that would set them all on the final path to changing the world.

***

It had not felt much like a training march. Though Darius had given them five days to reach the glade, Pollis had found that the Gryphons had difficulty maintaining such a slow pace, even through the snow and with their heavy load. They reached their destination early on the fourth day, and still considered it an easy journey. They wasted little energy on a camp they would abandon soon, merely pitching tents and laying circles of stones for cooking fires. Then they settled down into the most time-honored of soldierly duties – waiting.

Pollis knew very well that they would soon have hard times. No matter the genius of their captain and his fellows, nothing ever went right near Nebeth. The Fortress was too focal for the war, too greatly coveted by both sides. The generals considered it a great prize, but to the common soldier it was a breeding place of disaster.

He had introduced the Gryphons to their plans, and now each man knew his duties in the ordeal ahead. Which corridors to guard, what rooms to check. Which of his comrades would stand beside him in the fight. Every detail planned, and the plans themselves had several variations to allow for the unexpected. Pollis had set some of the men to cutting timbers suitable for barricades, as Darius had wanted. They now had twice as many as they would need.

By now the men all knew their target, as well. Most assumed the mission was to capture the Fortress, as Pollis had originally believed. He was no longer so sure. Whilst his men had been preparing in the city, he had done some investigation, questioning officers in Bastion about the latest news. None knew even the slightest thing about any activity on the border, which led Pollis to wondering – was Darius really expecting to capture Nebeth with only the Gryphons?

Pollis did not share his worries. He trusted his Captain – where Darius led, he would follow. What Darius ordered, he would do.

The Gryphons were sitting at supper, singing and joking. Their meal was a hearty stew, helped by some of the last fresh meat they were likely to have for the next couple of months – some rabbits that had unwisely quit their burrows and had been found in the snares that morning. It was a fine winter day. The sun was high and bright in the cloudless sky, and the forest kept the wind at bay. Even the skeletons of the trees in the forest, interrupted here and there by an evergreen, were somehow beautiful.

The peace was sundered, suddenly and violently, by a column of fire shooting into the sky. The blast of air that followed blew the snow from the tree branches, and the resultant snowfall became rain as the flakes were melted in mid-air.

The Gryphons had jumped to their feet at the roar of the flame. All knew how their Captain would be arriving, but even so there were no few hands on sword hilts as the Gryphons watched the Far Door at the center of the clearing warily. The heat of the roaring, snapping dome of fire could be felt even at the treeline, and the ground of the clearing was now bereft of snow, all of it melted to show the dead, brown grass beneath. In an instant, the serene winter forest had become a strange, unsettling place.

Darius was the first to emerge from the fire, and the Gryphons let out a collective sigh of relief, unhanding their weapons. Some even sat down to continue their meal. Most kept watching though, as more and more figures followed Darius from the burning portal. Each, save Darius himself, wore the robes of a wizard. Pollis's eyes began to bulge in amazement as they kept coming, six, seven, eight – gathering outside the spell and looking back. They did not stop until there were ten wizards standing in the clearing. The final one to emerge turned back towards the spell. It died, leaving the glade lit only by sunlight.

From the newly-created circle of charred earth, the wizards approached the soldiers. Each wore a pack much like that of the Gryphons, lacking only the weapons. The Gryphons were carrying two blades each, one short and one long, and half of them had stout spears as tall as a man. The wizards, of course, needed no such things and were deadlier than a hundred men together – and there were ten of them! Pollis had never heard of so many gathered for anything short of a major battle.

He strode forward to greet his leader, clapping his fist to heart in a salute. "Welcome, Captain! You are right on time."

"Thank you Pollis," Darius responded, returning the salute. Some of the other wizards looked amused to see him do so, no doubt unused to seeing a wizard use military manners – few of them had been around Darius when he was with his troops.

Darius introduced the other wizards to his lieutenant.

"I did not expect you to have so much company," Pollis admitted with a grin. Darius returned the smile, if more subdued.

"All of it necessary, I'm afraid. How are the men?"

"Well rested, sir, we've been here for a day already. We've all had time to study the drawing you gave me. They are as ready as can be."

"Good. We will attack shortly after dark – the men can rest until sundown. I must speak to them, now, though."

Pollis and Darius trotted over to the soldiers, the rest of the wizards trailing them at a walk. Pollis had seen in their expressions a mix of emotions: apprehension, expectation, excitement... whatever was going to happen at sundown, it was sure to be
big
.

"On your feet, boys! The Captain's got some words for you!" Pollis called, and the soldiers snapped to attention, clustering closer to hear their commander speak.

"Gryphons! In a few hours, we will be amongst the Enemy," Darius began. "We will not march to them."

The soldiers laughed – the closest warrior of Pyre was at least a week's hard travel distant.

"We will move by magic, just as I came here. This spell requires you to run into fire – you will feel the heat, but you will not be harmed. Steel yourself for it, prepare your courage." Darius opened his mouth to speak again – and Pollis saw him hesitate. The Captain's mouth hung open and silent for the briefest of moments, and the gaze moved from one soldier to the next before Darius spoke. Pollis knew his commander had decided, at the last moment, to leave something out.

"Rest now," Darius said. "Sleep if you can. It may be awhile before we can do so again."

As the men dispersed, Pollis strode over to his captain. "Sir!"

Darius turned, and Pollis moved close and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "What were you going to say, just then?"

The wizard's eyebrows twitched in surprise that Pollis had noticed his momentary lapse, then a tiny smile appeared on his face. "I was going to tell them of what we are to do, Pollis. But I decided that it will be easier for them to rest without knowing just yet."

"May I know, sir?"

The smile grew. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. You'll have to learn with the rest of the men. I will say that it's important – but I daresay you knew that already."

Pollis gave a pointed look at the nine other wizards clustered behind Darius. "Yes sir, I think so," he said dryly, and returned to the other soldiers.

Darius's smile disappeared as soon as Pollis turned away. He gestured to the other wizards to follow him towards one edge of the encampment, near enough so that it would seem they were joining the soldiers – but far enough so they could speak without being overheard.

"You didn't tell them," Ethion said as they walked.

"No. I couldn't – I couldn't say it," Darius said with a tiny shake of his head.

Alexander stepped closer. "I think it is for the best, Darius. If even one of the men disagrees, or raises too many questions, it could cause us trouble. We're too close for that."

"My men don't cause trouble," Darius said absently.

"We'll need to tell them something," said Ethion.

"Yes. I will. Before we depart," replied Darius, and they spoke no more of it. They reached the treeline and divested themselves of their packs, removing bedrolls to lay upon the forest floor. To the side many of the soldiers were disappearing into tents – a soldier knew the value of rest before battle. A bare few still ate, and some were working with the felled timbers, cutting notches to make the eventual barricades easier to assemble. Darius vacantly watched their industry as he sat.

"There is one more question to answer," Alexander said from behind him. Darius turned to see the man had lain his bedroll at the base of a tree and was sitting against it, addressing the lot of them.

"The ritual only requires nine of us," he said. The rest nodded. It was one of the things they knew without knowing how – a simple fact that had the feeling of being self-evident, but attempts to think of a reason boggled the mind. It was like trying to explain why one and one was two.

"I will remain apart," Darius said, and all heads turned to him in surprise.

"You are sure?" said one. "We could draw lots."

Darius shook his head. "No, it is unnecessary. I am used to fighting alongside my men. None of you are. If they need orders they should come from me. I will not take part in the ritual."

Pendrick looked sad as he spoke up. "But all of this is your doing..."

"All that matters to me is that we succeed. This is how best to do it."

There was no further discussion on the matter – the other wizards accepted his decision. Despite his words and his reasons, Darius did wish he could be a part of Angelic magic. To wield the powers of the Choirs! It was no small draw for him. For some of the others, it might be one of the most attractive parts of the whole endeavor. With a tinge of dismay, Darius remembered Aethel's words.

I must believe they accept the consequences,
Darius thought, hardening his heart.
Those who don't are fools, and I will little mark anything that befalls a fool.

Eventually, they all lay down, attempting to sleep. Darius did as well, but only his body was still.