Priestess of War (The Bowl of Souls Book 10), page 33
As they walked between the shacks, many of the large thulls approached them. The gentle giants reached their clawed hands out towards them, but did not touch them. Matthew reached his hand out towards them as well.
“This is their way of greeting. By showing them our claws openly, they see we are no threat,” he explained.
Justan held his hands out towards them, as did Deathclaw. Gwyrtha bared her teeth. They bared their own sharp teeth back at her in a friendly manner.
“What does this have to do with your responsibility?” Justan asked.
Matthew again puffed on his pipe. “When I first came to the swamps looking for a dwelling far from the races under my charge and their constant need for guidance.” He sighed. “I came upon this village. They had been beset for days, fighting the vile trolls. Most of them had fallen. I knew, watching the battle that if I did not act, I would witness the end of the species.”
“So you saved them,” Deathclaw said.
“It was probably the last order of my Master that I obeyed for a long time,” Matthew replied. “I drove the trolls away and then I left the thulls a gift.”
He stopped at the center of the village where there was a structure different from the others. It had a roof held up by poles at the four corners, but no walls. Inside was a small shrine surrounded by offerings of dead frogs and fishes. In the center on top of a brightly colored rock, was a white orb.
Justan could feel the power radiating from it and when he switched to spirit sight, it glowed like a beacon. “This is what keeps the trolls away?”
“It is now. I had a less powerful version in the beginning, but that is where my involvement in this mess began.”
Justan frowned. “Protecting this place made you responsible for the Troll Mother?”
Matthew let out a sad chuckle. “Over the years that I lived here I continued to notice a change in the Troll Mother’s behavior. She seemed more and more aggressive. It was becoming harder to keep the trolls out and there were a few times when she swallowed someone from the village itself.
“So one day I paid a visit to KhanzaRoo itself and used my influence to calm her directly. It was then that I met the very first of those people that now call themselves trollkin. It was an odd thing. Mostly troll except for around the face. He called himself, ‘The First’. Those were the only words he seemed to know at the time.”
“How long ago was that?” Justan asked.
Matthew waved a hand absently. “A few centuries and as far as I knew, he was the only one. An aberration. A hiccup where the Troll Mother swallowed a morsel and instead of killing it and feeding on it, changed it and spat it back out with at least part of its soul intact.”
“Has this been going on that long?” Justan asked.
“No,” Matthew said. “There wasn’t another for some time. My calming of the Troll Mother may have had something to do with that. She made far fewer trolls which meant less hassle. The village was kept safe with little maintenance. I was satisfied. But then again, I am becoming increasingly unsettled by the possibility that my calming of the Troll Mother changed her in some way. Part of me wonders if she used that time to think. Perhaps the presence of that first creature encouraged her.
“She eventually stopped making new trolls all together. It was a few short years ago that I saw a second aberration. This one was different. Half troll, half animal, it was wild and mindless. It killed three thulls before they killed it. More came. I increased the power of protection as much as I could even though I was under condemnation. Then John sent Talon and Durza to me. Durza’s gift is a blessing. She could do what I couldn’t at the time and keep both the Troll Mother and the trollkin away.”
Matthew nodded towards the shrine. “That orb is another gift from John. I was able to make it strong enough to duplicate Durza’s job so that she did not have to spend as much time at the village.”
Justan found it difficult to comprehend what Matthew was saying. “You’re telling me that you knew this was going on? You might even have had something to do with causing it? And still you said nothing? All those villages swallowed up while Xedrion tried to discover the problem and you could have just told him?”
The Stranger sighed. “I am not proud of my behavior, Sir Edge. Yes, I ignored it because I did not consider the Roo-Tan under my realm of responsibility.”
“And because it would have meant you leaving your house again,” Justan surmised.
“And sheer laziness, yes.” He spread his arms wide. “Cast your stones and they will hit me because I am guilty of all those things. However, I am trying to rectify that.”
Justan folded his arms. “And this is where you need my help.”
Matthew went to take another pull on his pipe and was disappointed that it had run dry. He tapped the pipe against the heel of his boot to knock out the ashes and began filling it again from a pouch in his pocket.
“I am sure you are aware of the current dilemma. On one side, we have the Roo-Tan, strong and with the support of elven magic, but suddenly lacking in manpower. On another side, the newly-titled Mer-Dan Collective, the product of years of scheming by Warlord Aloysius.”
“So he is behind their creation,” Justan said.
Matthew nodded. He reached out a finger and touched the tobacco. How he lit it, Justan was not sure because he didn’t see anything with his mage sight. Matthew took a few puffs.
“He was in constant contact with the merpeople in Pearl Cove. How they were able to convince the Roo-Dan to band together, I’m not quite sure. But it was all part of his perhaps poorly conceived plan to pull Malaroo under the banner of his Third Great Alberri empire.
“At any rate, the Mer-Dan Collective still has much greater numbers than the Roo-Tan, as well as a tactical genius the world has not seen since the Time of the Warlords. What they are lacking is cohesiveness. Their people are scared. Shaken by the disaster at the treaty talks.”
Justan shook his head. “And you want me to help that monster? After all he’s done. That ‘disaster’ was his fault!”
“Warlord Aloysius is not quite the monster you think. Yes, he’s misguided. But his intentions have always been for what he sees as the better good of the people. Though the treaty disaster happened in part because he invited Mellinda and her trollkin, he did so with the intent to destroy them. The Troll Mother’s attack caught him by surprise just as much as everyone else.”
“I don’t doubt that he was surprised,” Justan allowed. “But I do doubt the purity of his intentions.”
“You are right to do so,” Matthew said. “Be that as it may, I still ask for your help. Like him or not, these two nations need to work together or they will be overrun.”
Justan scowled. “When I go back to Roo-Tan’lan, I’ll tell the Protector what you said. Maybe it will be enough to convince him to meet with your gnome warlord again.”
“I am afraid that will not be good enough,” Matthew said.
“It may have to be. I cannot force the Protector to do anything. Nor do I want to try.” Justan said.
Matthew gave him a firm look. “As my condemnation has been lifted, I have seen several paths this could take. The only one where these two leaders work together is if you take a direct part.”
Justan threw up his hands. “What does that even mean?”
“Follow me,” Matthew said. He turned and continued through the village. “Meet Warlord Aloysius and take measure of him yourself. Then decide.”
Justan didn’t like the sound of that. He felt like he was being manipulated. Nevertheless, he did as the Stranger asked.
You despise this gnome, Deathclaw sent, following closely behind him.
He has done vile things. He killed Esmine in an attempt to make a weapon to control people’s minds. He started a war in his own country just to get rid of his rivals. When I told Matthew I thought he was a monster, I meant it.
Does he deserve death? Deathclaw asked.
Justan hesitated to answer. That depends on different factors.
You have an opportunity, Deathclaw suggested. You are going to meet this gnome.
I am not an assassin, Justan replied.
I am, Deathclaw replied. You decide. If you feel that his death will save others in the future, I will kill him for you.
I don’t think you were listening very closely when we talked earlier, Justan said.
Behind a stand of wide trees, just outside of the village proper a large tent had been erected. A series of smaller tents surrounded it. Justan saw guards from the Roo-Dan, merpeople, and imp races.
“You brought part of his army to this village under your protection?” Justan asked incredulously.
“It is neutral ground, Sir Edge. Belonging to no side in this conflict,” Matthew said. “They have no more reason to harm the thulls than you do. The thulls have no resources worth conquering.”
Still frowning, Justan followed Matthew to the tent. The guards let Matthew in, but were nervous at the sight of Deathclaw and Gwyrtha.
“They are my bonded,” Justan said to Matthew. “They come with me or I leave right now.”
A man appeared at the tent opening wearing a white robe with a red sash. He ordered the guards to let Justan and his bonded inside.
It was a wide tent separated into multiple rooms by canvas walls. In the main room was a single high backed chair where Warlord Aloysius sat. The gnome was dressed in black chainmail that glowed with elemental protection and there was a circlet on his brow that let off a white shimmer.
“Warlord Aloysius,” said Matthew. “May I introduce Sir Edge, twice named at the Bowl of Souls and bonding wizard. With him are Deathclaw, the brother of my servant Talon, and the rogue horse Gwyrtha.”
“What an impressive visitor,” the gnome said. He rose from his chair and looked Justan up and down. “I must say, there are few souls in this world who could boast of more impressive titles than yours. And at such a young age.”
This was the first time Justan had seen the gnome up close. There was a definite presence to him unlike any gnome he had met. Perhaps the closest was Alfred. The warlord was handsome and despite the arrogance that poured from his very pores, he had charm.
Justan refused to let those attributes affect him. “Yet none of those titles were ones I sought.”
The gnome raised an eyebrow. “That is a bit of an aggressive reaction to praise freely given. I take it that you arrive before me with preconceived notions?”
“I know many things about you,” Justan said.
“I see. You have heard of past acts of mine that, no doubt, sound atrocious without context. You likely have the same source as the Protector,” he said.
“Firsthand accounts,” Justan said. “And from friends. People who I trust.”
Aloysius nodded. “I see I have quite the barrier to overcome. Perhaps if I gave my side to the tale?”
“I’m not sure I would believe anything you said,” Justan said and frowned, realizing the truth of that statement as it left his mouth. He nodded to himself. “In fact, there is nothing you can say that would convince me you were in the right.”
Tell me if you wish it done, Deathclaw said.
Justan’s thoughts continued to churn. Stay your hand for now.
Aloysius turned to Matthew. “Then what was the point of this exercise, Stranger? You drag me all this way in the hopes that this person can help and now he refuses to even listen?”
“He’s not done speaking,” Matthew replied.
“Tell me, Warlord,” said Justan. “What is your true goal?”
Aloysius swung around to face him. “To protect this world in the battle that is yet to come.”
Justan nodded. “In order to reach that goal, are you willing to make a sacrifice?”
“I have already sacrificed much to get where I am,” he asked suspiciously. “What do you ask of me?”
“Matthew wants me to help you get Xedrion back to the treaty table,” Justan replied. “The only way I would be able to do that is if I trusted you implicitly.”
“You’ve already said that you refuse to believe anything I say,” Aloysius replied.
“This won’t be about words,” Justan said and he drew his left sword. Peace attempted to take his emotions, but Justan refused. This was not a time for detached thought.
The steward with the red sash leapt in front of the gnome. “Make one more move and you die.”
“Put down your weapon, Oliver,” Aloysius said with a frown. He cocked his head at Justan. “What is this about, Sir Edge? Assassination would not seem your style.”
“My sword works in a way very similar to yours,” Justan explained. He flipped the sword around and pointed the tip at the ground. so that the dagger-like point that protruded below the handle was facing up. “Except that instead of taking the will of the person pierced by its blade, it creates a bond.”
“I see,” Aloysius said curiously, approaching Justan and bending to look over the blade with fascination. “How fascinating. I am quite an expert when it comes to different types of weaponry. Your sword is exquisite. A master smith created this. The design . . . unique. But the runes tell the true story here.”
He straightened. “I believe I understand what you want. I allow you to pierce my flesh with this blade. You then plunder my mind and discover my motivations, perhaps my foulest secrets will be exposed?”
“Openness,” Justan said. “The bond created will go both ways if I allow it. You do this and we will understand each other on a level that only a bonding wizard and his bonded can understand. And yes, if there are foul secrets I will find them. If I see what Matthew sees in you, I will help you. I will take you to Xedrion and tell him with absolute certainty that he should listen.”
“And if you should not agree with the Stranger?” Aloysius asked. “If you should find that I am the abomination that your friend, Tarah Woodblade thinks me to be?”
“Then it is likely that my bonded and I will attempt to kill you,” Justan replied.
“And succeed,” Deathclaw added.
Matthew frowned. “Sir Edge, I believe you are taking this a bit too far.”
“Openness,” Justan repeated, his eyes not leaving the gnome. “Are you willing to show me that you aren’t a monster?”
“You ask a great deal,” the gnome said with narrowed eyes.
“You know who I am,” Justan replied. “Those titles Matthew told you should say a good deal about me. One thing he forgot to mention is that I am also a bearer of Jharro wood. I promised my allegiance to the grove.”
“Very well,” Aloysius decided. “What do you wish me to do?”
“You can’t be serious, Scholar!” said the red-sashed steward.
“Oliver, you forget yourself!” Aloysius snapped. “I am no mere scholar for you to baby! I look at this man and what I see is someone with the type of power I should not fear!”
“Hold out your hand,” Justan said.
The gnome did so. Justan slowed the world around him. Then he grabbed the warlord’s hand and shoved it onto the dagger end of his sword.
Instantly, the gnome’s thoughts poured into his mind. Aloysius was shocked at the lack of pain. He was also quite nervous about the thought of having Justan in his mind.
Good, Justan thought. He dove into the gnome’s memories.
This was different from the memories of Talon. They were deeper. He was much longer lived. They were also sharper. This was a mind that did not forget. He saw a mind that was proud and uncompromising. A mind that held logic and his main goal above all else.
Justan went deeper, skimming to the beginning. He saw Aloysius as a child, inquisitive but physical. The stewards determined that he was a warrior at first. He enjoyed swordplay, but he didn’t care much for the animal they brought him. He watched its death with confusion more than sadness or guilt.
“Why did you kill this rabbit?” he asked. “Are you hungry?”
“You killed it! For refusing to learn your sword,” said the steward, a red-faced man that Aloysius immediately knew disliked dealing with children.
“You killed it. I saw you,” Aloysius insisted. Meanwhile another gnome child wept in the corner over the loss of the kitten he had come to love so much. “You killed Cletus’ kitten, too. Why? Are you trying to make him mean like you?”
The steward, surprised by the child’s reaction, returned to the testers and told them that Aloysius did not belong with the warriors. He had a scholar’s mind.
They tested the gnome child and discovered that he was beyond brilliant. He was adopted into a major house and given tutors to discover his true focus. Noting his early interest in weapons, they started him with a study of tactics. The child devoured the subject and wrote his first essay disputing the teachings of one of the great tacticians.
Aloysius moved on from subject to subject, showing brilliance in each. Nevertheless, he always found himself going back to weapons in his spare time. The stewards noticed this and were alarmed. What was wrong with this gnome?
Then one day, when he had reached his teenage years, Aloysius’ stewards were taken away. They were replaced by a new group with shrewder eyes. With them was the red-faced man who had killed that rabbit in front of him as a child. He wore a red sash and handed Aloysius a new book. A history of the gnome warlords.
A new focus had been created. Aloysius now knew what he was destined to become. He studied all he could on the two previous gnome warlords. Then he studied their teacher, the ageless man known as the Stranger. He researched his methods and his decent into apathy. The more Aloysius learned about the man, the more he knew he was on his own.
This is where Aloysius’ studies took a darker turn. He studied the villains. These were the types of foes he would need to defeat one day and to defeat them, he needed to understand them. He researched the tactics of the human and imp warlords. He spent a long time on the Dark Prophet.
He saw the flaws in their goals, but not always in their methods. He filed that knowledge away. He then turned his gaze on the dangers of the world. As the gnome warlord of this era, he would be needed to protect the known lands, but from what? It was unclear.
