The Arcane War Page 7

  It had grown dark so fast…

  The magical fire ignited in a sudden burst.

  Naran froze.

  The light exposed dozens of faces, glittering eyes gazing at them from the gathering darkness.

  "Davri?"

  "It's okay," the mage said. "I've been expecting them."

  Raev prospered, just as Agruet had said he would.

  He sold spices from his homeland that became a popular "secret" ingredient in the flavorful fish dishes that were so popular in Hodarian’s Bay. The strange god had even given Raev a few ideas about how to grow the spice plants in a room of windows, as well as a room underneath that would work well for preserving seeds and dried herbs. The design of these rooms gained him further popularity and prosperity, and within a year he was one of the most successful business owners in the small port city.

  Arlanz was less than forgiving, at first.

  The money had arrived intact, as did the tea and a few other spices, but he wrote back saying that he needed more than gold and riches.

  He needed protection.

  He needed his family.

  He needed someone to mind the café when he was ill or tired.

  He needed more than he dared ask for overtly in his letters, but the implications were clear in the subtext. Arlanz accused Raev of failing his family duties for personal opportunity.

  It chafed, but Raev could not explain himself.

  After a time, the tone of the letters shifted. Accusations gave way to grudging admission of a turn of fortune and eventually of success.

  Arlanz hired a local girl out of desperation, and the girl turned out to have a natural talent for both business and dealing with customers. Her name was Bretav, and tales of her slowly began taking up more and more of Arlanz's letters.

  She was trustworthy.

  She was hardworking.

  She was witty and told entrancing tales.

  She was quick on her feet, never complaining.

  And, Arlanz admitted once, adorable.

  She had apparently decided that the café was her favorite place in Anogrin. She spent all of her time there, talking to Arlanz, even when she wasn't working.

  One day she proposed marriage to him.

  He refused at first, explaining the circumstances of how he lost his first wife, but she persisted. As the letters continued, Raev knew that Arlanz would give in.

  "I was right."

  Agruet had appeared at Raev's shoulder, peering at the latest letter from Arlanz.

  "You are a god. I thought that was a foregone conclusion." Raev set the letter down on his desk and shook his head. He was growing used to these sudden intrusions.

  "Let’s just say I enjoy hearing it." Agruet laughed, seeming endlessly delighted with himself. "You’re both better off, and you’re both exactly where I need you."

  "I had a feeling that this was coming," Raev muttered darkly. "What is it that I owe you?"

  "Hospitality, for just a few friends. They aren’t here yet, but you’ll know them when you see them. Your cousin will send them here."

  "What would happen if I refuse?"

  "Why would you do that?"

  "To see what would happen. What the consequences would be."

  Agruet smiled. It wasn't an unpleasant smile, but the skin on the back of Raev's neck crawled. It made him shiver.

  "Mortals were given free will. Do what you like, of course." The smile vanished. "This would be a poor time to test consequences, however. More than one innocent would die."

  Raev clenched his jaw. Threats. He would have to obey, or the god would kill. Of course. That was the nature of their kind.

  "I'm not threatening you, Raev." Agruet looked weary, sad. "Your actions are your choice. I only thought you'd prefer to have an informed opinion before those consequences befell."

  "By taking in these guests, I would save innocent lives?"

  It was hard to believe. Gods demanded. Gods took what they wanted. Gods made things happen at their whims.

  However, for a year now Agruet had been helpful. He'd been playful and manipulative, but he'd also been kind. The god was annoying and spoke in riddles, spoke in prophesy, but so far it had all been to Raev's advantage. Had it been the bait of a trap? Or did Agruet have some greater outcome to strive toward?

  "I will consider it," Raev said.

  Agruet nodded, then vanished as he always did once a conversation was resolved.

  Even with free will, Raev wondered if he had any choice but to follow what the trickster god desired.

  Trying to look impressive in front of Naran had almost backfired for Davri.

  He had been expecting the dwarves. It was no feat of magic or precognition, though. He'd realized, too late, that they'd set up camp right outside one of the hidden entrances to their underground kingdom.

  The problem came in saying he'd expected them. Dwarves were secretive and didn't trust outsiders. His words had almost gotten them both executed for espionage on the spot.

  The expression of awe on Naran's face was a bit of a bright spot, at least.

  "I'm an idiot," he'd finally admitted when brought before Deeg, master of spies. "It's amazing how smart you can be and still be a complete idiot."

  "That's quite a contradiction there, human," Deeg had said, voice a deep and disapproving rumble. "I'll feel better keeping an eye on you and your contradictions for a while."

  "The boy did nothing wrong," Davri said quickly. "Please. Don't imprison him for my stupidity."

  "Are you saying we should send this child out on his own, to fend for himself?"

  Was there a good way to answer that question? Davri gave it an uncertain stab.

  "No?"

  Deeg chuckled. "Don't think of it as imprisonment. Think of yourselves as involuntary guests until we can take a measure of your character. You'll not be locked up in a dungeon."

  "They're all skin and bones," another dwarf said.

  That prompted a great deal of talk of feasting and celebration for the brave deed of "capturing" two wild humans. They were jovial, if vigilant. The dwarves joked and sang, but there was no chance of the humans escaping at any point.

  To be fair, it was a more pleasant captivity than Davri had expected. They shared a room with Deeg and his family, but the beds were more comfortable than any they'd slept on in a year. They ate their fill at every meal, and any expression of hunger was met with food being shoved at them enthusiastically.

  "You don't see many humans here, do you?"

  "We deal with a few merchants," Deeg's sister, Vera, said over lunch. "And we keep an eye on the local outlaw bands, to discourage them from our woods."

  Davri nodded, not surprised. "I just wanted to point out, you don't have to feed us quite so much. We're not malnourished, just young men. We're naturally somewhere between an elf and a dwarf in girth."

  "But…the merchants…" Vera stuttered, eyes wide for a moment. "They're all so big!"

  "They indulge a lot to get to that size," Davri said. "Naran and I have been on the road a while. It limits what we can eat. Even still, we haven't starved. To get as large as the merchants are, we'd have to eat this well for many years, I think. You can spread that around, so others don't worry so much."

  Vera stroked her beard in thought. "There's a lot we don't know about humans. The merchants won't join us underground, too afraid of the roof caving in I suppose. We see humans so seldom that a few among us thought humans might turn to stone in the dark, the way we will in sunlight, curse Deyson for her petty spite."

  "You know the names of the gods?" Interesting to know.

  "Just hers. When she cursed our kind, we took her name with us in revenge, passing it to our children to utter as an epithet. My grandpa used to tell us to say her name loud and often, and eventually there'll be so many of us she'll be distracted, and we'll be able to walk in sunlight again."

  So many stories of how petty the gods were through the ages. They'd been such common stories that Davri ha
dn't thought about it until he'd found himself pitted against them and their priests.

  "What do the dwarves think of the other gods?"

  "Except for the lady of the earth, we try not to think of them," Vera shrugged, setting aside her beer. "There's no love lost, here. None of them have gone out of their way to talk to Deyson about what she's done to us. Most dwarves would just as soon be quit of the lot of them."

  Interesting. They may have stumbled over unexpected allies. Davri made a mental note to talk about this at length with Deeg.

  "Your presence is requested."

  Four words Krecek had been dreading for a year.

  The early autumn weather was bright and clear. There'd been a light wind all day, whistling through the branches of the tree hovering above him. He was tending the gardens when the initiate appeared and uttered those words.

  "Who requests it?"

  Krecek stood, wiping his hands off and willing his face into placid curiosity. Mustn't look guilty or afraid. If anyone was sure of his complicity, he'd be apprehended, not called in for an audience.

  "Porrellid."

  "Thank you."

  He could hear his heart pounding, feel his pulse rock his chest. Krecek managed to walk at a normal pace through an inhuman feat of will. When he reached Porrellid's office door, he only knocked a bit louder than he meant to. Only four or five people looked over, startled.

  It could have been worse.

  Porrellid opened the door silently, standing aside for Krecek to enter, then closing the door behind them. He was of average height, for a human, but towered over Krecek as most did. The hair that had once graced his forehead had started a strategic retreat, perhaps to hide from the ever-present sneer on his lips. The high priest might have been handsome in his youth. Now his belly was protruding in a mockery of budding motherhood.

  Despite the physical flaws, Porrellid wore his power like a suit of armor. It was obvious both physically and magically. The sneer of contempt on his face matched his posture, his squared shoulders, and the aura he needlessly enhanced with glittering gems and jewelry. No one could mistake Porrellid for anything but what he was. A high priest of the most powerful goddess in the world.

  "How can I serve?" Krecek asked, bowing his head humbly as he stood in the center of the room.

  "I have heard rumors," Porrellid began. He sat upon a cushioned velvet chair and reached for a glass of wine on the table beside him.

  There was only one glass. Krecek was not offered a thing.

  "What sort of rumors, sir?"

  "You've made friends with that girl from the university. The one who's been going around, looking for clemency for her brother."

  "Yes sir."

  "That's two friends in the same decade, isn't it? Aren't you afraid of getting a reputation?" Porrellid laughed at his own joke, filling the room with it. "They were friends of each other, weren't they? This Aral, and your other friend, Davri."

  "I believe so," Krecek said. His stomach roiled and tightened in fear. So this was it, then. The end.

  "I've heard she's beautiful." The permanent sneer morphed into a smirk. "Tell me about her. What has she been trying to offer for her brother's life this past year?"

  "Well, she is beautiful as you've heard," Krecek said. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what this question had to do with anything. "She's determined, and I know she's offered her magical services quite a few times, if she thinks it will help. Aral is quite talented, so it's no small matter. Mostly she's been seeking mercy, though. A favor given out of kindness for a young lady who has been put through so much."

  "Ah, one of those," Porrellid said. "She must think we're fools who have never heard someone weep before. A sacrifice is offered for equal blessings. If we offered the gods only our rubbish, what could we expect in return?"

  Krecek nodded, one hand clenched in a fist, but he managed to still his tongue.

  "I think I'll see what she's willing to exchange. She's asked for an audience. I was going to ignore it. In honor of your friendship with her, I think I'll give her a chance."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "You may return to your duties."

  Krecek bowed and left, walking swiftly to the gardens.

  He should have felt relieved. The summons hadn't been out of suspicion. There had been no accusations. He had not been called to account for his lies and subterfuge in aiding the boy's escape.

  He was still free. Still in his position.

  Relax, he chided himself silently. Aral might get her chance. This might end well for all of them. If anyone could release Naran from the mark of sacrifice, it was Porrellid.

  It wasn't until the dead of night that he realized why he was still afraid. Porrellid could remove the mark, true enough. With the magic he had at his command, however, there were many other things he could do.

  They were both in very grave danger.

  Chapter Six –

  Acts of Desperation

  "You've been doing this for a year."

  Had it been that long? Hadn't it been longer? Aral had lost track of time, doing this for so long that it had stopped registering. Classes, studying, begging for an audience, begging for her brother's life. If it hadn't been a full year, it was close.

  Porrellid wasn't the last of the high priests she could turn to, but there were few in Anogrin she had not yet seen. He, and a few others, had refused her requests for some time. She'd been surprised to meet with any representative of this temple. This is where the trouble had begun, after all. Wouldn't they automatically protect their own?

  "Give up, child," he said. "The gods don't ask us to sacrifice more than we can afford to lose."

  Aral shook her head. "They've taken everything from me, and now they ask more."

  "They're testing your faith, because they know you will be greater for it."

  She knew he was wrong, though. The gods hadn't demanded it. One petty man had.

  Saying that to him would be a mistake, though. Pointing that out to other high priests had always been met with cold indifference, if not accusations.

  "Perhaps...they have put me in this situation to test your mercy?" Chin up. Defiant, but playful. Don't let him take offense.

  Porrellid smiled. He reached forward, brushing a lock of hair from her face with soft fingers. "Shouldn't you leave it for men in my position to speak for the gods?" He chuckled, fingers lingering on her skin a moment too long. "You are quite remarkable. I am impressed by the lengths you are willing to go to just for one child. The world is full of so very many children. You could just replace him with a child of your own."

  "He cannot be replaced," Aral said, abandoning her defiance for defeat. "Please." Eyes downcast, and do not pull away from his fingers in disgust. "I will do anything you ask if you will remove the mark of sacrifice from my brother. Anything at all." She closed her eyes, held her breath.

  A year was a long time to nurture such desperation.

  Aral knew that she really would do anything.

  She just hoped he would not ask it of her.

  He took her hand and placed a gold coin upon her palm. When she opened her eyes, his gaze met hers with clear intent as he closed her fingers around the coin. "Clothe yourself in something other than a mage's robes and come to my chambers tonight. By dawn we shall see how merciful I feel."

  Aral nodded, mouth too dry to force out a word. She walked away nervously, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed the unusual exchange. Her eyes were drawn to the brilliant green elfin eyes...Krecek was standing to the side, eyes wide, shaking his head. It was too late, she had taken the coin. If it would bring her brother back, nothing would stop her. Even this. Even him.

  She ducked her head, virtually sprinting to get out of the temple. To get away from the alarm and concern in her friend's eyes.

  This was the first chance she'd had. The first time she hadn't been mocked. The first time she hadn't been dismissed or accused.

  She tried to erase the e
xpression on Krecek's face from her mind, ignoring the guilt it made her feel. She had to do this. She had to.

  Aral threw the gold coin on her dresser, adding it to what was left of what she'd inherited from her parents. She had plenty of dresses that would suit her for the evening. Aral preferred the status and prestige that came with wearing a mage's robes. That they were practical and comfortable were secondary. She understood, probably much better than the priest had, what clothing said about a person.

  Tonight, instead of having her power and status discarded for a mere dress, Aral would wear her favorite gown. She fingered the maroon velvet with a hint of a smirk. This dress would make her look regal. As the daughter of one of the most renowned mages, and one of the most talented spellsmiths, in the world, it was just as much her right to dress that part. She would remind the priest that she was not some simple girl to discard once used.

  Night came too soon.

  Aral slipped into the temple as quietly as possible, using a side entrance in hopes of avoiding Krecek, with no luck.

  He'd shown her this entrance.

  He was waiting for her.

  "You can't do this," he whispered urgently. He grabbed her arm to pull her back out the door.

  "I don't have a choice," Aral said. She dug her heels in, refusing to budge. "It's the closest I've had to a chance this whole time. Can't you just let me do this, without having to think about it, without having to justify it?"

  "No, you don't understand. He—"

  "The girl has an appointment with me, I believe," Porrellid's voice rang out through the antechamber.

  Aral pulled away from Krecek. "Don't stop me." It was taking everything she had to go through with this. She couldn't listen to him. Naran depended on her to do whatever she could to save him.

  Porrellid held his hand out to her. She hurried forward, and the moment her fingers brushed his skin he grabbed her and pulled her in, possessive.

  "Perhaps, when I am done with her," he said to Krecek, "she will be more receptive to your own advances. You've been trying for a year, haven't you? You just need to know what a girl wants, so you can get what you want."