Wartorn: Resurrection

Someday maybe he would even be in the position to turn the army back northward, to conquer the city of Felk itself and unseat Emperor Matokin.

He laughed aloud, savoring the thoughts, as he had savored every sensation since returning to life.

At the moment he was waiting on Raven's return. How thrilled the girl had been when he named her his liaison officer to the army's magic-using forces. At first, he had thought to use the granting of the title as just another means of tying her tighter to him. But he had quickly realized the immense value of having such an officer at his side.

The rift between his regular troops and his army's magical units had been obvious from the start. That rupture had to be mended. Matokin had given him wizards, the best he had to offer, and told him to make use of them. So be it. Weapons had been turned on their masters before.

In the meantime though, it was crucial that those scouting parties he'd sent ahead to Trael obeyed their new, unorthodox orders. Dardas had figured there would be resistance, especially from the Far Movement mages. Whatever else, this was no doubt a dangerous gambit.

So he had sent Raven, who had a foot in both societies, so to speak. Magical and nonmagical. She wasn't an official wizard, but she didn't fear magic, and her loyalty to the empire was impressive. Dardas had worked to turn that loyalty more directly upon himself, by taking her into his confidence, showering her with attention. He felt his scheme had succeeded.

However, Raven was overdue from her mission. Dardas frowned and stepped out of his tent. He surveyed the camp, seeing that the troops were indeed prepared to move put whenever the word came. Dardas didn't know what exactly would happen when those portals were locked open, but he wanted his army ready to move, in any direction.

He drew in the air. Even this was still exciting, the simple act of breathing. He had to stay alive. He needed someone like that wizard Kumbat on hand, at his personal beck and call, for whenever death tried to reclaim him. Matokin's greatest hold over him was the unspoken threat of withholding those rejuvenation spells that prolonged the resurrection magic that had brought him back to life.

It was a complex game, but his plans were falling into place, neatly.

They had bivouacked in a shallow valley. Spotters and pickets guarded the ridges. Nothing was going to sneak up on his army.

Finally, he saw Raven striding across the grounds toward his pavilion. She moved with a greater confidence these days, he noted. It was appealing. Perhaps he would find the time to bed her one of these days.

She saluted when she reached him. "General Weisel."

"Raven," he nodded. They should probably go inside for her report, but he was enjoying the feel of the waning day's breeze on his face too much. "What is the word?"

The girl looked somewhat troubled, he saw. "I contacted three of the four scouting parties, sir," she said. "The Far Movement mages will all comply with your orders when they receive the signal."

"And the fourth party?" he asked.

Raven shook her head. "None of the Far Speak mages was able to make contact. The Far Speak wizard assigned to the fourth squad simply did not respond. Without him to correlate the location, there was simply no way to transport there." She looked rather pale.

Dardas considered. "Well, scouting parties get lost. It is all a part of warfare." Any number of mishaps might have befallen the squad.

"Yes, General."

He peered closely at her. "But there's something further disturbing you, Raven. Am I right?"

"It's ... nothing, sir."

"I think not. By now, girl, you surely realize that I value you. I've made you an officer. I've entrusted you with important secrets." He moved a step nearer to her. "You must be able to confide in me." He spoke this last in a tone that was like a purr. It was better to charm her than to order her to divulge.

Raven bit her lip, then said, "I encountered some difficulty while I was being Far Moved."

"Difficulty?"

"Yes, General." She explained. It was a strange little tale about hearing voices, a whole host of them, closing in around her while she was in transit through the milky, limbo world of the portals.

"Interesting," he said, genuinely intrigued.

Voices. No doubt the voices of that reality's inhabitants—presuming that Raven hadn't imagined the whole thing. He doubted that, though. She was made of cooler stuff.

"Fergon!" Dardas called.

The aide appeared at once, waiting attentively for Dardas's orders. But there was a lingering uneasiness on the young officer's face. Yes, thought Dardas. Something would definitely have to be done about this one. It could wait though.

"Assemble the senior staff. And get me a Far Speak mage who can communicate with our scouts."

"Yes, General Weisel." Fergon was gone.

"In a few moments, I'll give the signal." Dardas turned once more to Raven. "Exciting, isn't it?"

"Yes, General, it is." Color was returning to her full cheeks. Her breasts were rising and falling as her breath quickened.

This one understood how arousing a good war could be, Dardas thought with a silent cackle. On impulse, he reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips across her cheek. Her flesh was smooth, young.

Raven froze, then flushed heavily.

The senior staff was gathering around the front of Dardas's tent. He dropped his hand. A mage in dark robes came forward.

Now it was time to bring forth onto this Isthmus a whole new breed of warfare, thought Dardas.

I don't think I want to be remembered as the madman who allowed the dead to roam free into this world.

A huge shock went through him. This was Weisel's voice in his head. Impossible!

More impossibly, Dardas suddenly felt resistance when he tried to move his limbs. It was like someone was pulling them in another direction.

I think you have abused my hospitality long enough.

With that, Dardas felt an overwhelming mental force closing in around his consciousness, strangling him, suffocating him.

It's time you gave me back what you've borrowed.

With a last surge of effort, Dardas forced open his mouth to give the order to the mage. Whatever else happened, his plan would go ahead.

AQUINT (5)

THE GARRISON WANTED blood.

Aquint knew that Colonel Jesile was basically a reasonable man, a fair governor of Callah. But one of his own men had been murdered, clubbed brutally to death, apparently by one of the very people that Aquint had been sent here to investigate.

There was unrest in Callah, and that murder indicated that there were rebels.

Like it or not, Aquint had to act like an Internal Security Corps agent. But since that job wasn't too well defined he'd been relying on his instincts, his baser ones. In Sook, he had solved the mystery of the disappearing goods from the quartermaster warehouse simply by seeing the operation from the eyes of the pilferers.

It was something else to try to think like a rebel. But again he'd had some success.

Colonel Jesile had put him on to finding whoever was responsible for the counterfeiting scheme that had been uncovered. Aquint had personally made a few inquiries among old acquaintances and vendors in the marketplaces, people who would never have talked to anybody but a fellow Callahan, though it took some persuading to convince a few that he was still a Callahan, despite his front of being a wounded soldier on leave. Just about everyone who had a reason to know considered Slydis the best copyist in the city.

Aquint paid the dwarf scribe a visit, finding on the premises of his workshop the ingenious stamps he'd made for duplicating the Felk scrip. Simple, right?