Roar, page 24
Inside he was relieved to find two more soldiers sleeping at their posts just inside the door, and he quickly disposed of their weapons. Seeing them sleeping so soundly however was good news as it meant that his spell had made it at least part way into the building. It should have. This building was solid, but it was nothing like the bunker he'd faced ten days before. And there were windows open.
After that Thorm padded down the hallway between the dormitory rooms, stopping outside each one to listen. Again, he heard nothing but snoring. Hopefully his spell of sleeping wind had made it all the way through the barracks. Then he carefully pushed the first door open, worried by the creaking sound it made, and stood in the open doorway looking for the first sign of one of the soldiers waking up. No one moved. In time as he stood there, his heart began to beat a little more easily.
The soldiers in the first dorm proved to be no trouble. It had maybe twenty soldiers fast asleep in their cots, and they had thoughtfully set their weapons out against the walls beside them. Thorm would have grinned if his form had allowed it. Rifles standing up against the walls! Pistols and knives on the tables beside each cot! It was almost as though they'd known he was coming and set everything out for him.
Thorm accepted their offering happily, and quickly turned their weapons into shrapnel. And despite his worries not a single soldier stirred while he worked. It was the same when Thorm went through all the other bed chambers – including those for the Commander’s and officers’ quarters. He was really getting to like the sleeping spell! He just wished that he knew the words and gestures for it. Then it would be a truly wondrous spell.
Ten minutes later, having made sure that there was not a single working weapon available, Thorm left the barracks and began his tour of the rest of the compound. But before he left he dragged the two sentries outside the barracks inside. The building would provide some protection if his new war spell was as powerful as he suspected it would be. The King might well hang them in due course but he would not murder them in their sleep. After that he padded his way across the open ground between each of the pits, studying his targets.
Wherever he found a sleeping soldier he once more made sure to relieve the man of his weapons and tossed them in the pits with the sleeping trolls. The beasts couldn't use them and he doubted that anyone was ever going to go into the area where the trolls were kept to retrieve them. Some of the weapons actually fell on the trolls when he threw them into the pits. Even then though the trolls didn't wake. Apparently the spell worked as effectively on trolls as it did on humans and hamadryads. He also, though it was probably a mistake, dragged the sleeping guards away from the pits. But he had the time and there weren't many.
After about half an hour Thorm decided the first part of his plan was compete. The compound was secured. It was time to finish things. This part though would be noisy and it would make it clear to the entire city that the pens were under attack. It would bring soldiers. But that wasn't what bothered him. It was whether he could really cast the spell.
Though he had practised for this Thorm's heart was racing. He had spent five long days doing nothing but practising what spells he could, including the sleeping wind which he had made as powerful as he could. But it would be the first time he had cast this spell. It couldn't be cast in the sewers. Or anywhere in the city. It was just too big and too dangerous. So he had learned it, rehearsed it and made sure he knew every nuance of the spell. But he hadn't cast it.
Thorm found a quiet spot on the far end of the compound, and began casting the spell he had found in the books he'd stolen. As always he used his mind’s eye to concentrate on the words, visualising the gestures that accompanied the words; willing the magic to respond to his command. And despite his fears he felt the magic answering him. Powerful magic that sung through his soul. Answering his call. And he knew it was big. He could feel the magic swelling in the air all around him. He knew the fire and the fury it contained.
Then in one glorious moment he felt the magic come together somewhere inside him, and he released it at the nearest of the pens.
The result was everything he could have wanted as the first fireball came streaking down out of the night sky to smash into the pen, tearing the iron cage roof apart and then exploding with terrible force inside the pen itself. In the blink of an eye the black of the sky had been replaced with orange fire, the ground was shaking in terror, and the silence had ended.
It had worked! Thorm roared with triumph as he saw the fireball rising into the night. But no one heard him. The explosion was so loud that Thorm could barely even hear himself. Certainly no one else could. But he didn't care. Until just then he'd had no idea if he could cast the spell, or how big it would be. But now he knew. It was massive and despite his doubts and the problems he faced, he was growing in strength as a wizard. Growing a lot.
The spell was called falling star in the book, and he decided as he stared at the inferno bursting out of the pen that that was a perfect name for it. A huge chunk of flaming rock had come shooting down out of the sky, and had exploded on impact. Maybe he had just called down a whole damned star? That explosion had been massive! So powerful that he doubted a single troll had survived more than the first second after it had hit.
But his work had only just begun and Thorm tore his eyes away from the explosion to check to see if any of the soldiers had woken and had come out to see what had happened. Despite the cacophony though no one had – once again showing how strong the spell of sleeping wind was. Then even as the flames leapt out of the first pen and reached for the heavens, he started casting the spell again.
Half a minute later another ball of fire streaked down from the heavens and detonated with the same indomitable fury as the first; another pen filled with trolls was destroyed, and he cheered with all his strength. This was glorious! Then he started again.
One by one he sent fireballs raining down on the pens, and in a matter of perhaps ten or fifteen minutes every one of them was blazing brightly. The pens had been turned into funeral pyres for two thousand trolls. If he was lucky they would also be able to be seen as beacons in the night for the half million people that called the Eternal City home. Beacons of hope. Certainly they must have heard the explosions even in their homes.
More important than that though perhaps the wizard who'd written down the spell would see what he had done from either his afterlife or the Palace of the Sun and be pleased with what he'd wrought. The blow he'd struck against the Eternal King. Wherever he was. He had after all taught him the spell whether he knew it or not.
Thorm's attack had of course drawn attention, and the first of the soldiers from the city were entering the pits by the time he had finished. It had taken them a while to dress, get into formation and then run all the way from the city gates. But most of them he noticed as they finally arrived at the gates to the pits, stopped there. They didn't know what to do when faced with a score of massive fires burning out of control in front of them. They were trained to fight not put out fires. They also didn't know who their enemy was. They couldn't see anything beyond the inferno in front of them. And it was likely that the smell of burning trolls and the smoke made them hesitate. They didn't have any orders to obey after all. As for the soldiers in their barracks beside the pits, they were all still sleeping soundly as far as Thorm knew. The building was still intact. But it would not be a pleasant time for them when they woke he suspected.
That gave Thorm all the time he needed to find the back wall of the compound, leap over it and vanish into the night like a ghost. Or like a rogue wizard who could strike without ever being seen.
He imagined there would be a lot of questions being asked come morning. Some by the King. Some by the other soldiers. But most by the people of the city.
Some would wonder if this was a threat. Even a challenge to the Eternal King. Others might wonder if it was the King himself, being contrary. It was possible. And as for the King's enemies, he had no doubt that they would see it as a sign that they had an ally out there. That the Eternal King wasn't invincible.
For him though it was something else. It was the beginning.
Chapter Twenty Three
Six days was a long time to wait for someone to contact him, Thorm thought. Not that he'd been wanting to be contacted. But he would have thought that by now someone would have noticed what he was doing. The message he was sending to the King was fairly loud and clear.
Make that messages. People should have noticed. The avaryads especially should have noticed as they flew overhead.
The pits were gone and not a single troll had escaped. He was pleased about that. More than pleased – he hated trolls. By the Seven did he hate those wrinkled, hairy monsters!
But the pits had only been the start of his campaign. Next he had emptied out the city's main armoury. While the army had been out hunting him, criss-crossing the nearby lands in a desperate search for the rogue wizard, he had struck deep in the heart of the city itself. It had been easy. Almost the entire division watching the city had been either outside the city's walls hunting him or on the walls preparing for an attack. So while they had been looking outwards he had struck behind their lines. He had sent the sleeping wind into the city's largest army base, disarmed maybe another fifty soldiers, and then broken into the central armoury and removed a drainage grate in the floor. After that the contents of fifty or more barrels of black powder had gone down the sewer, washed away along with the ammunition for an unknown number of weapons.
All that black powder was now floating down the sewers. Actually by now it had probably rejoined the Atar River. As for the endless quantities of ammunition, it had sunk rather than floated and was now buried in the sewage sludge at the bottom of the sewers, together with the armoury’s full complement of guns and rifles. By the time someone dug them out, they would be little more than rust. In all, Thorm calculated that the best part of five hundred or a thousand rifles and pistols would never fire again.
In terms of limiting the ability of the armies to wage war it was probably nothing. The armies had to have fifty more armouries spread out across the realm. But that wasn't the point of what he'd done. This was the armoury for the Eternal City. It wasn't just a blow to the Eternal King's face. It was a threat to his very rule. When the very soldiers he trusted to protect him were left unarmed, he had to feel vulnerable. As if an attack was coming.
Naturally the first thing the King would have done was order more soldiers and munitions back to the city to prepare for whatever was coming. But his soldiers wouldn't be coming. Not quickly anyway.
Because he had also taken out the three large bridges that separated the Eternal City from the rest of the Volden Plains. It was easy when he had the war spell of falling star at his command. A single spell and a bridge was taken out. Even better, no one had seem him cast it as he was able to hide while casting the spell. Though that was partly about cutting supply lines, it too had sent a message to the King. He had given the King notice that his fortress had become his prison.
Thorm was certain that the King would be hiding in his Palace, dressed as always in full armour, imagining that this was the beginning of an attack. It was the obvious explanation. His army had been weakened with his shock troops gone. His ability to defend his city had been severely hit. If the city was attacked they could not defend themselves for long. Thorm was sure his plans of launching a war against the hamadryads had been shelved. Where he had previously been preparing for war, now he was readying the city for a siege.
So the city's grain silos were being filled. Masons were working on the walls, resetting crumbling stones and welding the rusty iron gates until they were strong again. More workers were busy digging trenches right around the city walls, and filling them with oil and stakes. Cannon emplacements were being built and fortified. Clearly the King expected an army to appear on his doorstep in short order. Perhaps even in weeks. Marching up from the south. From Erisen. He had no idea that the enemy army was already inside the city.
Still he knew he had an enemy agent inside the city. So soldiers were out in force throughout the Eternal City. They could be seen on every street, patrolling every watch point. They stood watch on the walls and could be seen manning the cannons. They were on patrol night and day, searching desperately for the enemy that might slip through. Or for the enemy’s sympathisers. Patrolling the streets and drilling night and day. They were out searching wagons, questioning people in the streets, sometimes breaking down doors and raiding homes as they hunted for spies and saboteurs. They were looking for him. But of course they didn't know they were looking for a green eyed lion.
They wouldn't find him. They hadn’t even guessed that he was only a single man already inside the city. That he literally lived underneath their feet and could come and go as he pleased. Or that he could listen in on his soldier's conversations. Sneaking out at night to destroy anything that the King could use to wage a war, be it within the city or beyond its walls. And if some of the soldiers unexpectedly fell asleep from time to time, they never reported it. Not when the result might be them swinging from the end of a rope. They were looking for an army, or failing that a man, not a magical lion with a sleeping spell.
What the King didn't understand was that Thorm had no plan of attacking anything. Thorm only wanted to stop him from starting a war. And his plan was working perfectly. How could the King field an army when he was preparing to be besieged? Already he had about a quarter of his army back with him in the city and was recalling more soldiers every day to support the defence of the Eternal City. But with the bridges down, it was a long, difficult march.
While Thorm was pleased with how things were going, it still came with a taint. The King had started executing all those soldiers he felt had failed him. And so everyone who had been on duty in the pens had been hung; their bodies now hung from the walls as a warning. The same was true of those who had been on duty in the armoury. And it would have been true of those who had been guarding the bridges if there had been any. But who guarded a bridge? The Eternal King's message to his soldiers was simple – Don't fail. Because if you did it would be worse for you than dying at your enemy's hands.
Thorm had always known that would probably happen and had tried to tell himself that if someone had to die then it was best that it be those who were paid to serve the King rather than innocent commoners. The soldiers weren't innocent and had he not stopped the planned war, they would have been out killing those who were. Even so, the sight of all those bodies swinging from the walls had sent a cold chill down Thorm’s spine.
Still, the thing that mattered was that the King’s army had been stopped Better still, if the Oracle was right and the wizards were becoming too hard to control, the King had to know he was sitting on a bomb. Thorm couldn't rescue them, and even if he could have he doubted they could be saved from whatever had been done to them, but sooner or later they would be free – if only through death. And without them the Eternal King's bargain with the lamaia ended. After that Thorm had no idea what would happen. But he doubted the Eternal King would like it.
Success though came with its own price – exhaustion. He discovered that when he heard the Oracle speaking to him and he realised he'd fallen asleep. Yet again.
“Oracle.” Thorm greeted her politely, happy for once about her intrusion. He actually wanted to tell someone what he was doing. Even if they weren't allies in this thousand year war she kept talking about, their interests aligned in some cases.
“At last! My favourite wizard!” She groaned a little melodramatically. “You've done something. The avaryads are reporting all sorts of strange sights as the fly over the city. I too have felt the echoes. What have you done? And don't try to deny it. I can hear it in your words.”
Thorm could almost imagine her face falling – except for the burnt out eyes of course – and it actually amused him a little. Though he did have to wonder how she could know he'd done anything at all just from hearing a single word. Then again she was an oracle. Besides, she'd surely guessed the truth before she'd called him.
“I'm not denying anything. I've done just what I should have done from the start.”
“And what's that?”
“I'm stopping a war and freeing my people.” Thorm put it simply. “I'm breaking the Eternal King's rule. And I'm doing it without killing the innocent.” And with that he began telling her what he'd done.
The Oracle remained quiet while he spoke and for some time after. That surprised him. He hoped she was thinking about what he'd done and supporting his actions. More likely though, he suspected she was probably thinking how foolish his actions had been. It was a surprise therefore when the main emotion he could hear in her voice when she finally spoke again was sadness.
“You know that this will not work out as you hope?”
“Ah, confidence!” He tried to put a brave face on things rather than worry about what she meant. “That's what I love to hear in my dreams!” And because it was a dream, sort of, he was able to smile. “Yes, this will work. Because you and yours will be helping.”
“We will?” The Oracle didn't sound enthusiastic.
“You will.” He let his smile grow. “You see, this is not about winning a war. This is about never having to fight one in the first place. And truthfully, I don’t think you want a war either. What I'm doing will stop one before it starts.”
After that Thorm padded down the hallway between the dormitory rooms, stopping outside each one to listen. Again, he heard nothing but snoring. Hopefully his spell of sleeping wind had made it all the way through the barracks. Then he carefully pushed the first door open, worried by the creaking sound it made, and stood in the open doorway looking for the first sign of one of the soldiers waking up. No one moved. In time as he stood there, his heart began to beat a little more easily.
The soldiers in the first dorm proved to be no trouble. It had maybe twenty soldiers fast asleep in their cots, and they had thoughtfully set their weapons out against the walls beside them. Thorm would have grinned if his form had allowed it. Rifles standing up against the walls! Pistols and knives on the tables beside each cot! It was almost as though they'd known he was coming and set everything out for him.
Thorm accepted their offering happily, and quickly turned their weapons into shrapnel. And despite his worries not a single soldier stirred while he worked. It was the same when Thorm went through all the other bed chambers – including those for the Commander’s and officers’ quarters. He was really getting to like the sleeping spell! He just wished that he knew the words and gestures for it. Then it would be a truly wondrous spell.
Ten minutes later, having made sure that there was not a single working weapon available, Thorm left the barracks and began his tour of the rest of the compound. But before he left he dragged the two sentries outside the barracks inside. The building would provide some protection if his new war spell was as powerful as he suspected it would be. The King might well hang them in due course but he would not murder them in their sleep. After that he padded his way across the open ground between each of the pits, studying his targets.
Wherever he found a sleeping soldier he once more made sure to relieve the man of his weapons and tossed them in the pits with the sleeping trolls. The beasts couldn't use them and he doubted that anyone was ever going to go into the area where the trolls were kept to retrieve them. Some of the weapons actually fell on the trolls when he threw them into the pits. Even then though the trolls didn't wake. Apparently the spell worked as effectively on trolls as it did on humans and hamadryads. He also, though it was probably a mistake, dragged the sleeping guards away from the pits. But he had the time and there weren't many.
After about half an hour Thorm decided the first part of his plan was compete. The compound was secured. It was time to finish things. This part though would be noisy and it would make it clear to the entire city that the pens were under attack. It would bring soldiers. But that wasn't what bothered him. It was whether he could really cast the spell.
Though he had practised for this Thorm's heart was racing. He had spent five long days doing nothing but practising what spells he could, including the sleeping wind which he had made as powerful as he could. But it would be the first time he had cast this spell. It couldn't be cast in the sewers. Or anywhere in the city. It was just too big and too dangerous. So he had learned it, rehearsed it and made sure he knew every nuance of the spell. But he hadn't cast it.
Thorm found a quiet spot on the far end of the compound, and began casting the spell he had found in the books he'd stolen. As always he used his mind’s eye to concentrate on the words, visualising the gestures that accompanied the words; willing the magic to respond to his command. And despite his fears he felt the magic answering him. Powerful magic that sung through his soul. Answering his call. And he knew it was big. He could feel the magic swelling in the air all around him. He knew the fire and the fury it contained.
Then in one glorious moment he felt the magic come together somewhere inside him, and he released it at the nearest of the pens.
The result was everything he could have wanted as the first fireball came streaking down out of the night sky to smash into the pen, tearing the iron cage roof apart and then exploding with terrible force inside the pen itself. In the blink of an eye the black of the sky had been replaced with orange fire, the ground was shaking in terror, and the silence had ended.
It had worked! Thorm roared with triumph as he saw the fireball rising into the night. But no one heard him. The explosion was so loud that Thorm could barely even hear himself. Certainly no one else could. But he didn't care. Until just then he'd had no idea if he could cast the spell, or how big it would be. But now he knew. It was massive and despite his doubts and the problems he faced, he was growing in strength as a wizard. Growing a lot.
The spell was called falling star in the book, and he decided as he stared at the inferno bursting out of the pen that that was a perfect name for it. A huge chunk of flaming rock had come shooting down out of the sky, and had exploded on impact. Maybe he had just called down a whole damned star? That explosion had been massive! So powerful that he doubted a single troll had survived more than the first second after it had hit.
But his work had only just begun and Thorm tore his eyes away from the explosion to check to see if any of the soldiers had woken and had come out to see what had happened. Despite the cacophony though no one had – once again showing how strong the spell of sleeping wind was. Then even as the flames leapt out of the first pen and reached for the heavens, he started casting the spell again.
Half a minute later another ball of fire streaked down from the heavens and detonated with the same indomitable fury as the first; another pen filled with trolls was destroyed, and he cheered with all his strength. This was glorious! Then he started again.
One by one he sent fireballs raining down on the pens, and in a matter of perhaps ten or fifteen minutes every one of them was blazing brightly. The pens had been turned into funeral pyres for two thousand trolls. If he was lucky they would also be able to be seen as beacons in the night for the half million people that called the Eternal City home. Beacons of hope. Certainly they must have heard the explosions even in their homes.
More important than that though perhaps the wizard who'd written down the spell would see what he had done from either his afterlife or the Palace of the Sun and be pleased with what he'd wrought. The blow he'd struck against the Eternal King. Wherever he was. He had after all taught him the spell whether he knew it or not.
Thorm's attack had of course drawn attention, and the first of the soldiers from the city were entering the pits by the time he had finished. It had taken them a while to dress, get into formation and then run all the way from the city gates. But most of them he noticed as they finally arrived at the gates to the pits, stopped there. They didn't know what to do when faced with a score of massive fires burning out of control in front of them. They were trained to fight not put out fires. They also didn't know who their enemy was. They couldn't see anything beyond the inferno in front of them. And it was likely that the smell of burning trolls and the smoke made them hesitate. They didn't have any orders to obey after all. As for the soldiers in their barracks beside the pits, they were all still sleeping soundly as far as Thorm knew. The building was still intact. But it would not be a pleasant time for them when they woke he suspected.
That gave Thorm all the time he needed to find the back wall of the compound, leap over it and vanish into the night like a ghost. Or like a rogue wizard who could strike without ever being seen.
He imagined there would be a lot of questions being asked come morning. Some by the King. Some by the other soldiers. But most by the people of the city.
Some would wonder if this was a threat. Even a challenge to the Eternal King. Others might wonder if it was the King himself, being contrary. It was possible. And as for the King's enemies, he had no doubt that they would see it as a sign that they had an ally out there. That the Eternal King wasn't invincible.
For him though it was something else. It was the beginning.
Chapter Twenty Three
Six days was a long time to wait for someone to contact him, Thorm thought. Not that he'd been wanting to be contacted. But he would have thought that by now someone would have noticed what he was doing. The message he was sending to the King was fairly loud and clear.
Make that messages. People should have noticed. The avaryads especially should have noticed as they flew overhead.
The pits were gone and not a single troll had escaped. He was pleased about that. More than pleased – he hated trolls. By the Seven did he hate those wrinkled, hairy monsters!
But the pits had only been the start of his campaign. Next he had emptied out the city's main armoury. While the army had been out hunting him, criss-crossing the nearby lands in a desperate search for the rogue wizard, he had struck deep in the heart of the city itself. It had been easy. Almost the entire division watching the city had been either outside the city's walls hunting him or on the walls preparing for an attack. So while they had been looking outwards he had struck behind their lines. He had sent the sleeping wind into the city's largest army base, disarmed maybe another fifty soldiers, and then broken into the central armoury and removed a drainage grate in the floor. After that the contents of fifty or more barrels of black powder had gone down the sewer, washed away along with the ammunition for an unknown number of weapons.
All that black powder was now floating down the sewers. Actually by now it had probably rejoined the Atar River. As for the endless quantities of ammunition, it had sunk rather than floated and was now buried in the sewage sludge at the bottom of the sewers, together with the armoury’s full complement of guns and rifles. By the time someone dug them out, they would be little more than rust. In all, Thorm calculated that the best part of five hundred or a thousand rifles and pistols would never fire again.
In terms of limiting the ability of the armies to wage war it was probably nothing. The armies had to have fifty more armouries spread out across the realm. But that wasn't the point of what he'd done. This was the armoury for the Eternal City. It wasn't just a blow to the Eternal King's face. It was a threat to his very rule. When the very soldiers he trusted to protect him were left unarmed, he had to feel vulnerable. As if an attack was coming.
Naturally the first thing the King would have done was order more soldiers and munitions back to the city to prepare for whatever was coming. But his soldiers wouldn't be coming. Not quickly anyway.
Because he had also taken out the three large bridges that separated the Eternal City from the rest of the Volden Plains. It was easy when he had the war spell of falling star at his command. A single spell and a bridge was taken out. Even better, no one had seem him cast it as he was able to hide while casting the spell. Though that was partly about cutting supply lines, it too had sent a message to the King. He had given the King notice that his fortress had become his prison.
Thorm was certain that the King would be hiding in his Palace, dressed as always in full armour, imagining that this was the beginning of an attack. It was the obvious explanation. His army had been weakened with his shock troops gone. His ability to defend his city had been severely hit. If the city was attacked they could not defend themselves for long. Thorm was sure his plans of launching a war against the hamadryads had been shelved. Where he had previously been preparing for war, now he was readying the city for a siege.
So the city's grain silos were being filled. Masons were working on the walls, resetting crumbling stones and welding the rusty iron gates until they were strong again. More workers were busy digging trenches right around the city walls, and filling them with oil and stakes. Cannon emplacements were being built and fortified. Clearly the King expected an army to appear on his doorstep in short order. Perhaps even in weeks. Marching up from the south. From Erisen. He had no idea that the enemy army was already inside the city.
Still he knew he had an enemy agent inside the city. So soldiers were out in force throughout the Eternal City. They could be seen on every street, patrolling every watch point. They stood watch on the walls and could be seen manning the cannons. They were on patrol night and day, searching desperately for the enemy that might slip through. Or for the enemy’s sympathisers. Patrolling the streets and drilling night and day. They were out searching wagons, questioning people in the streets, sometimes breaking down doors and raiding homes as they hunted for spies and saboteurs. They were looking for him. But of course they didn't know they were looking for a green eyed lion.
They wouldn't find him. They hadn’t even guessed that he was only a single man already inside the city. That he literally lived underneath their feet and could come and go as he pleased. Or that he could listen in on his soldier's conversations. Sneaking out at night to destroy anything that the King could use to wage a war, be it within the city or beyond its walls. And if some of the soldiers unexpectedly fell asleep from time to time, they never reported it. Not when the result might be them swinging from the end of a rope. They were looking for an army, or failing that a man, not a magical lion with a sleeping spell.
What the King didn't understand was that Thorm had no plan of attacking anything. Thorm only wanted to stop him from starting a war. And his plan was working perfectly. How could the King field an army when he was preparing to be besieged? Already he had about a quarter of his army back with him in the city and was recalling more soldiers every day to support the defence of the Eternal City. But with the bridges down, it was a long, difficult march.
While Thorm was pleased with how things were going, it still came with a taint. The King had started executing all those soldiers he felt had failed him. And so everyone who had been on duty in the pens had been hung; their bodies now hung from the walls as a warning. The same was true of those who had been on duty in the armoury. And it would have been true of those who had been guarding the bridges if there had been any. But who guarded a bridge? The Eternal King's message to his soldiers was simple – Don't fail. Because if you did it would be worse for you than dying at your enemy's hands.
Thorm had always known that would probably happen and had tried to tell himself that if someone had to die then it was best that it be those who were paid to serve the King rather than innocent commoners. The soldiers weren't innocent and had he not stopped the planned war, they would have been out killing those who were. Even so, the sight of all those bodies swinging from the walls had sent a cold chill down Thorm’s spine.
Still, the thing that mattered was that the King’s army had been stopped Better still, if the Oracle was right and the wizards were becoming too hard to control, the King had to know he was sitting on a bomb. Thorm couldn't rescue them, and even if he could have he doubted they could be saved from whatever had been done to them, but sooner or later they would be free – if only through death. And without them the Eternal King's bargain with the lamaia ended. After that Thorm had no idea what would happen. But he doubted the Eternal King would like it.
Success though came with its own price – exhaustion. He discovered that when he heard the Oracle speaking to him and he realised he'd fallen asleep. Yet again.
“Oracle.” Thorm greeted her politely, happy for once about her intrusion. He actually wanted to tell someone what he was doing. Even if they weren't allies in this thousand year war she kept talking about, their interests aligned in some cases.
“At last! My favourite wizard!” She groaned a little melodramatically. “You've done something. The avaryads are reporting all sorts of strange sights as the fly over the city. I too have felt the echoes. What have you done? And don't try to deny it. I can hear it in your words.”
Thorm could almost imagine her face falling – except for the burnt out eyes of course – and it actually amused him a little. Though he did have to wonder how she could know he'd done anything at all just from hearing a single word. Then again she was an oracle. Besides, she'd surely guessed the truth before she'd called him.
“I'm not denying anything. I've done just what I should have done from the start.”
“And what's that?”
“I'm stopping a war and freeing my people.” Thorm put it simply. “I'm breaking the Eternal King's rule. And I'm doing it without killing the innocent.” And with that he began telling her what he'd done.
The Oracle remained quiet while he spoke and for some time after. That surprised him. He hoped she was thinking about what he'd done and supporting his actions. More likely though, he suspected she was probably thinking how foolish his actions had been. It was a surprise therefore when the main emotion he could hear in her voice when she finally spoke again was sadness.
“You know that this will not work out as you hope?”
“Ah, confidence!” He tried to put a brave face on things rather than worry about what she meant. “That's what I love to hear in my dreams!” And because it was a dream, sort of, he was able to smile. “Yes, this will work. Because you and yours will be helping.”
“We will?” The Oracle didn't sound enthusiastic.
“You will.” He let his smile grow. “You see, this is not about winning a war. This is about never having to fight one in the first place. And truthfully, I don’t think you want a war either. What I'm doing will stop one before it starts.”
