The wandering inn volume.., p.283
The Wandering Inn: Volume 5, page 283
part #1 of The Wandering Inn Series
It looked a bit like he was running away, but that didn’t matter. Drakes and Gnolls roared and swarmed around Olesm and Embria while Errif found himself besieged from all sides by a suddenly angry crowd. The image jostled as it moved back and forth for a minute. Shoving bodies and confused shouting was all that was heard and seen. Then the [Mage] won clear of the crowd and moved back several feet. A disheveled Drake with a monocle appeared, panting a bit.
“And that was Liscor’s [Strategist]! A terrific appeal to Drake pride, and of course Pallass’ citizens are in arms at the thought of abandoning a fellow Drake city in its hour of need! There’s no way we’ll get to the [Strategist] himself—I seem to have lost Relz—but we’ll try and get a response from Senator Errif! Human, to me!”
—-
The scrying orb became a jumble of shouting voices and the Drake with the monocle shouting for people to ‘make way’. It didn’t matter. Niers Astoragon silently pointed, and the [Diviner] raised a hand. The scrying orb went dark.
The students looked down at their professor and saw him staring at the blank orb. The Titan of Baleros had a wide grin on his face, a look of uncharacteristic delight his students had seldom ever seen. He breathed out slowly.
“Full marks.”
He whirled and strode away from the scrying orb. Slowly, the other students came back to the here and now. Venaz clenched a fist, Marian shook herself in place. Umina looked to Niers.
“Professor, what do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Full marks! That Drake—that was Olesm Swifttail, wasn’t it? He may have just saved his city.”
Niers couldn’t stop grinning. He turned and looked at his students. They stared at him, some half-understanding, others confused. They couldn’t feel it yet. But Niers could, and he wagered Olesm and a good number of other people in this world had caught on. The King of Destruction had figured it out.
It was the scrying orb. The ability to send an image across the world to everyone with an orb of their own in the moment. It was a sense that Niers had, that Olesm had picked up on.
The idea of the world stage. Niers paced back and forth.
“That Drake’s done it. Marian, get me every [Message] spell that comes in the next few minutes. Run! The rest of you—remember that. Remember this, because this is history. I can feel it. I feel like a new war is beginning. A war of words, of public opinion! Every city and nation will have to consider it. It won’t just be [Message] spells, it will be people seeing their leaders making decisions. What will happen to the Drake chain of command if their people see them making choices they don’t like? What will happen to a [King] whose people broadcast his every failing? What—”
“Professor!”
Marian raced back into the room, holding a basket of [Message] spells. Niers turned.
“Well?”
The Centaur tore through the pieces of paper. The first one made her exclaim.
“An announcement! Oteslia has deployed its Winged Riders! They say they can reach Liscor in six days!”
“Six? From across the entire continent?”
Venaz roared in disbelief. He grabbed another piece of paper and his eyes bugged out.
“Zeres has pledged an army of eighty thousand regular soldiers and five thousand of their elite Saltscale Wardens!”
“What? But they were just—”
Wil looked stunned, but his friend, Cameral, had caught on. The Dullahan fixed his head to his shoulders and grabbed another piece of paper.
“Every Drake city just saw that. Do you think they’ll sit still? He called them out! If they did, their people would riot! If my people saw something like that—Manus is pledging an army of their own!”
The students grabbed for the basket, exclaiming, reading out report after report as the cities scrambled over themselves to be the first to send aid to Liscor. Niers’ smile didn’t vanish—he could imagine that right now, at this very moment, Tyrion Veltras was not smiling.
At last, the frenzy died down. And Niers’ students turned back to him, waiting to see what had changed. Niers stepped over the map, looking at the [Messages]. Thinking.
“This changes much. And nothing at the same time. Liscor will have its reinforcements, faster than Tyrion Veltras expected. But…”
He looked at Marian. The Centaur nodded.
“Even the fastest armies won’t get there in time. A force from Pallass? Yes. And they’ll be moving troops through the magic door. But they still need to hold out.”
“Exactly. And that door is a weak point. If I were that Drake, I’d put my best soldiers on the door. Or my most expendable ones.”
Niers frowned to himself. He looked at the map of Liscor and didn’t let his elation cloud his judgment.
“Whether they hold out in time for reinforcements now depends on how many soldiers they can bring through from Pallass, how strong the Goblin Lord’s army is…and how far Tyrion Veltras is willing to go. It’s still in his favor, but…”
Niers shook his head.
“They have a chance. More, if there are other factors I don’t know about. As it is, I give Liscor a chance.”
He looked down at Liscor. Then his eyes travelled to something else. The paper map had no fine details on it. The mountains were just mountains and the city of Liscor was just an illustration. But the map had one thing going for it the magical one did not: it could be changed by Niers himself.
Liscor was already tiny on the map of Izril, a single city surrounded by mountains. But Niers had added something nonetheless, marked a spot just east of the city. A little dot, set just outside of Liscor. It would have looked like an ink stain or a speck if you didn’t know it was there.
The identity of Niers Astoragon’s mysterious chess partner was unknown, even to him. But he had [Scryed] his opponent once. And he had not seen him. Her. It. But Niers had seen the room his chessboard was in for a moment. And he had remembered it. He couldn’t help it. It hadn’t meant much; the room could have been any wooden structure anywhere in the world. But then had come the day of the Face-Eater Moths attack. And Niers had seen it.
The same inn. The same interior as the one he had seen for a brief second. And he had known. Niers had conducted a bit of information gathering, found out the name of the inn. Nothing else; he hadn’t wanted to tip his hand to anyone that he was curious. But the name of the inn burned in his mind.
Was his opponent staying there? Had they been moving from the inn on the road? Or were they…?
For a second Niers stared, and then he pretended to be inspecting Liscor. He shouldn’t have put the marking there. It was a mistake. Of course, no one would notice. It was a tiny dot, so small only a Fraerling would notice. Or a keen-eyed student. Niers looked back up and murmured to himself.
“More than a chance.”
His students watched him, waiting for his conclusion. The Titan of Baleros had none. He took a seat on a closed ink bottle and shook his head.
“I don’t know how it will turn up. But I am sure of one thing. I’ll bet all my hats and Venaz’s horns that there’s a lot more we don’t know about. If I were Tyrion Veltras, I’d watch my back. Everyone in the world knows what he’s planning. But I wonder if he knows what everyone has in mind? Because believe me…”
Niers walked over and tapped the bright red pin marking Tyrion Veltras and the Goblin Lord’s army. He looked around and smiled like a wolf.
“Nothing’s ever this simple.”
—-
The Necromancer smiled as he relayed the last of the [Message] spells to his apprentice via their mental link. He could sense his apprentice’s growing sense of unease, but Az’kerash was calm. In his study he stared at the twisted flesh and bone sitting in front of him. Waiting to be shaped. He was close, he could feel it. The last iteration of his Chosen had been a failure, but these would be true masterpieces. Still, there were matters which required his attention.
“This is an opportunity, my apprentice.”
“I do not see it, master.”
Reiss spoke through their link. The Goblin Lord stared at the Human army and imagined them coming down on Liscor’s walls. So that was their plan. They would send the Goblins to attack Liscor, then fall on them once the city fell. He bared his teeth.
“We will not do it. This plan will fail. Attacking Liscor is certain-death. Foolish-death. We will let the Drakes battle the Humans and escape—”
“No.”
Az’kerash’ voice was firm. Reiss tried to protest, but an invisible force took control of his tongue, his vocal chords, his jaw.
“You fail to understand Tyrion Veltras’ will, my apprentice. He will not let you flee. You think you can outrun his army? He will burn you and slaughter your tribe to the last rather than let you flee. And it does not matter if Liscor repels your army. It does not matter how many soldiers Pallass sends today.”
My apprentice. Reiss bit his tongue. He had a name. A name given to him by a dying Drake. His name. But he didn’t tell his master. Instead, he tried to sound innocent, confused.
“It does not?”
“No. They are doomed, regardless of how much they struggle. Even if the city of Liscor holds off your army, my apprentice, Tyrion Veltras will not be stopped. He intends to take Liscor and he will take the city regardless of how many defend it.”
“Then we die. We die if we win, but we die twice over with reinforcements from Pallass.”
Reiss felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. But then it stopped. A chill entered him as his master’s energy flowed from him to Reiss, giving him strength. Reassurance, black, like midnight, ran through Reiss’ veins.
“Pay no attention to the doorway, my apprentice. It will be dealt with momentarily. Rather, consider Liscor and your fate. Do you think I would abandon you after all the time I have invested in you?”
Yes. Just like Oom. Just like the others. But Reiss didn’t say that either. He pushed the words down, daring not even to think them in his head. There was nowhere safe from his master. Nowhere but the depths of his heart, the beating soul he clung to. Still clung to. It was the one place Az’kerash could not look; his master’s heart had ceased beating long ago.
“What can we do, master?”
“Why, let the Humans play their game, my apprentice. Be the pawns in their trap. Take the city. Kill the Drakes. Slaughter the Antinium in their Hive.”
“But if we do—”
“Your Goblins will die. Yes. And Drakes will die. And the Antinium. And Tyrion will expect to sweep in and clean up the survivors. But he will not. Because on the day Liscor falls my apprentice, I will be with you. And I will raise every soul that falls. Every last one. Drake. Gnoll. Human. Goblin.”
Reiss’ heart skipped a beat in his chest.
“Master? What are you saying?”
A smile flashed across Reiss’ lips that was not his own. His lips moved and spoke another’s words.
“Exactly what I claimed. On the day you do battle, I will lend my strength to yours. I will reanimate the fallen and give you warriors to slaughter the Drakes. They will not be able to defend against that. Imagine it, my apprentice. Imagine a zombie or Ghoul or Draug rising for each of your enemies you slay. Every single one, in a city of Liscor’s size. Only the Antinium will be spared and they will fall against your hordes. With them you could hold Liscor, could you not?”
“But the Humans—”
Reiss protested, but his mind was racing. How many citizens did Liscor hold? Ten thousand? No, many more than that. A Walled City held hundreds of thousands. Did Liscor hold a hundred thousand citizens? More? A hundred thousand undead plus his army…
“Perhaps you do not think it would be enough?”
Reiss bit his lip. Yes, even with those numbers, they would have to hold shattered walls. And they would be wounded, tired after fighting an entire city even if the undead rose. But again the smile flashed across his lips.
“Yes, my apprentice. Tyrion Veltras has an army dangerous enough on its own. But I promised you I would raise every soul that fell. And that includes his warriors. And he has brought [Knights]. Adventurers. They will become lethal undead far stronger than the rest. The strength of the living is matched by the power of the undead. But if that is not enough, if you hesitate, I will offer you one more token of victory. My Chosen.”
“Them?”
This time Reiss’ heart did skip another beat. He felt it, and he felt his master’s joy.
“Yes. Not Kerash. I cannot risk him. But I will give you Bea. I will give you Venitra. Ijvani has not yet returned to me, but two are enough. Bea will bring death to the Antinium and Venitra will take Tyrion Veltras’ life. Is that not enough?”
It was. It was enough. Two of the Chosen. Reiss remembered them fighting. He had seen Venitra kill. He closed his eyes and remembered them standing over Zel Shivertail. They had not killed him, but they had come close.
Two. With two, he could—Reiss’ mind raced. Az’kerash spoke with his lips, forced his eyes open.
“So, my apprentice. Do you still fear Liscor and the plans of the Humans? Or do you see victory? Because should you take Liscor and hold it, you will have a city of your own. A place to defend. A home for your kind.”
And there it was. His dream. A shining city on a hill. Reiss’ eyes opened wide. He stared at the image in his mind. Of all places. Liscor. He imagined rebuilding the walls. With his master’s power it could be done in a day. And if he could defeat Tyrion Veltras, could it be possible that the Drakes would…? If he left some alive, if he…
“Well, my apprentice?”
Reiss stood in place, staring at the Human army. Around him Goblins milled about, staring at his back. The Goblin Lord slowly turned and they flinched from his gaze. But he was not looking at them. His eyes found a Goblin with a crimson blade, who stared at him suspiciously from the back of a huge wolf. And another—a small Goblin who wept for the Great Chieftain who had been her enemy.
“Yes, Master. I do not fear the Humans. Give me power and I will take Liscor for you.”
For him. For Goblins. Reiss heard Az’kerash laugh as if he could hear the lie. His master spoke one last time, in his head, not with his mouth.
“Then prepare, my apprentice. Prepare and grow your army. Two Chieftains must kneel and I must strengthen myself for the ordeal to come. But know that I am with you.”
And then he was gone. Reiss understood the irony of that, but he could still feel his master’s magic filling him. He clenched a fist and looked up. His blood hummed. He stared back at the Humans and then began to walk slowly. And he saw it. A vision of a city filled with Goblins. A safe haven.
Victory. One last battle. Reiss had told Osthia that he had three battles to win, long ago. Now it was one. All he had to do was take Liscor. With his master’s help it was possible. More than possible. All he had to do was gather the last two tribes to him. Reiss paused. After Tremborag’s death, it should be easy. All he had to do was convince Rags and Garen to kill them all. All he had to do was wade through the blood of the innocent. Reiss closed his eyes and touched his heart. He felt it beat, and quiver, then stop for a moment. It hurt. But it had to be done. For a dream.
One last time.
—-
“We are gathered here for one reason. To discuss Liscor and the plans of Humans and Drakes.”
The Grand Queen spoke softly. The vessel that reflected her image raised its feelers and gestured to Klbkch. It tilted the mirror and five faces flashed at Klbkch for a moment. He stood before her, next to his Queen, the Free Queen of the Antinium. They listened as the Grand Queen went on, speaking to all the Hives at once.
“A decade ago, the Hives conferred and it was decided that a Hive would be established in Liscor. To forge an alliance. To secure a foothold. To allow the Queen of the Free Antinium to conduct her…theories. Now the situation has changed. So the Hives are met in conclave here to discuss. I am the Grand Queen of the Antinium. And we see in the Goblins and schemes of Humans an opportunity for the Antinium. We see their deaths.”
She looked at the Free Queen. Klbkch could sense his Queen’s resentment, her tension. And fear, too. For despite their objections to her, contempt, fury, both Klbkch and the Queen of the Free Antinium looked on the Grand Queen and knew she spoke for the Hives. They felt her pull, even in Liscor.
“The situation in Liscor has changed. Pallass has agreed to reinforce the city, as have the other Walled Cities and lesser cities. However, they will not reach Liscor before the Humans and Goblin Lord. So the city will be besieged. My Queens, your thoughts?”
The mirror flashed. The body twitched and another presence took over. The Queens spoke, each one different, each one inhabiting the vessel before ceding control. They were five-in-one. Each time one of the Queens took over control of the body it would stiffen, then move as they willed it. Five voices, all similar, but each different in how the Queens spoke. Each Queen unique, as were their Hives.
“Unprecedented. The opening of war.”
She sat still, her moving mandibles the only changing thing about her. The rest of her was still and silent. Watchful, waiting. The Silent Queen.
“Is it certain? Beyond doubt?”
She looked to Klbkch, as if he could answer her. The Silent Queen, weaver of bodies. She had been chiefly responsible for bringing back Galuc’s form in the Workers and Soldiers. And she had been the first to create the forms of old. The Silent Antinium, assassins camouflaged, stalking. The mirror flickered. The Grand Queen reappeared.
“We have monitored the messages sent between cities. Our Listeners have conveyed the truth and lies. It is so.”
The Grand Queen’s voice was authoritative. She sat tall, and her feelers moved slowly, decisively. It seemed as though she counted each word and weighed it, and her mandibles clicked. Counting, assessing, ever weighing odds and chance with cold logic.
“Pallass’ decision is of no consequence. The statistics show that the amount of soldiers they may transport through that door is extremely limited. Nevertheless, the door presents an unknown variable. An asset. Or hindrance. But the assault on Liscor is the primary focus.”
