Tears of Liscor, page 57
part #9 of The Wandering Inn Series
“So Liscor will become the first city of Antinium?”
“And what role will. The Twisted Antinium serve?”
“Grand Queen—my Queen.”
The Free Queen of the Antinium spoke slowly. Her emotions were in a whirl. Klbkch stood by her, trying to calm her. The Free Queen looked into the mirror at the Grand Queen. She struggled for words.
“You are—if Liscor falls, then the goals of the Free Antinium will never be realized. My Queen, without the Drakes and other species to act as stimuli, the process of creating individuals—”
“We are aware of the cost to the Free Antinium. However, we deem Liscor as a strategic asset of greater importance. Moreover, the Humans’ siege of Liscor provides a reason for the Antinium to seize a city. Thus, this plan we deem as most appropriate. We have consulted with our Prognugator, Xrn, and she agrees this strategy is most sound.”
Xrn? Klbkch jerked. He couldn’t help it. All five Queens stared at the azure Antinium. Xrn, the so-called Small Queen, bowed as her eyes swirled with colors. Green and pink and blue and then a flash of white. Klbkch froze. The other Queen saw nothing but magic in Xrn’s eyes, but he had seen those colors before. She was telling him something.
“Xrn, my Prognugator. Speak.”
The Grand Queen lifted Xrn up. The Prognugator bowed.
“My Queens, I deem Liscor’s fall a chance for the Antinium to grow. Not as conquerors or invaders for once, but as heroes.”
“Heroes?”
The Free Queen stared at the blue Antinium. Xrn nodded.
“My Queen understated some of the nuances of the plan. By all means, let the Antinium hold the walls. Let them fight. A thousand. Two thousand. Six. Let them die fighting Goblins and Humans. And when Liscor falls, when the walls are breached, let them shield the frightened, the innocent. Let them hold until Liscor flees. Into the Hives.”
“Into the Hives?”
The whisper came from all the other Queens at once. Klbkch felt a thrill as he understood Xrn’s plan. She nodded.
“Yes. Let them be saved by the Antinium, sheltered. And then, in the Humans’ hour of dark victory, let the Antinium rescue Liscor. Let them claim it and become the new rulers. Heroes indeed. Heroes twice to Liscor. And the new stewards of a city. Not a city ruled by Drakes and populated by Gnolls and Antinium, but a city managed by Antinium in which Gnolls and Drakes live.”
“They will never accept that. The Drakes will never allow it.”
“No?”
Xrn tilted her head. She looked at the Free Queen and then nodded.
“Perhaps you are correct, Free Queen. Perhaps the plan will fail. The citizens of Liscor may not trust the Antinium. The Drakes may not accept the Antinium’s ownership of the city. All plans fail. So I offered a counter alternative: should the people of Liscor resist, they die. Should the Drakes try to take Liscor, it will be war. The Twisted Queen and my Grand Queen will station an army in hiding. If the Drakes assault Liscor, they will attack them from behind. And the Third Antinium War will begin.”
The room was silent after Xrn had finished. Klbkch remembered to breathe. He looked at her. She glanced back, and the same pattern flashed through her eyes. Thought-mischief-sadness-hope. She was lying. She did not think the plan would fail. She wanted a city for the Antinium.
A city where Individuals could be made in number. And Klbkch understood. Xrn had thought of him. Of Erin and those she had met. She had devised a plan to save them in a way the Grand Queen would accept. But she had forgotten one thing.
Klbkch was a [Guardsman]. A Senior Guardsman of Liscor. And he knew the Drakes better than she did. They would die protecting their homes. Drakes did not run. The Gnolls would too. They might retreat in the end, but they would die step by step rather than flee.
Unless they trusted the Antinium. Would they trust them enough to flee into the Hives? Would they—would Erin? Was this a betrayal or a solution? He was a Senior Guardsman of Liscor. Zevara would never run. Neither would Relc. They would die on the walls. But could they be saved? He was a Revalantor of the Hive. He was Klbkchhezeim of the Centenium. He was Klbkch the Slayer. He had to—
Klbkch stood there, paralyzed, as the Queens debated. As they argued. But in the end, it didn’t matter. One by one, they fell silent. The Grand Queen spoke.
“It is decided. The Hives will prepare. Workers must be sent. All five Hives will dig the tunnel as far as possible. Prepare your Soldiers. Free Queen of the Antinium. Klbkchhezeim.”
Both looked up. The Grand Queen looked at them.
“Prepare the Hive of Liscor for war.”
She vanished from the mirror. The Silent Queen was next.
“Wait, Klbkchhezeim, Free Queen. We will meet for the first time in years.”
The Armored Queen spoke briskly. Tersk was already giving orders.
“All must be done as the Grand Queen wills. My Soldiers will greet yours soon.”
The Flying Queen rubbed her feelers together, almost giddy.
“At last! Battle! War! A grand trick to play on the Humans and Drakes alike. My Hive readies itself. Prepare yours too!”
And then only the Twisted Queen was left. She looked at Klbkch, at the Free Queen, and she spoke.
“It is done. Klbkch. Hezeim. Wrymvr sends. His greetings.”
Then she was gone. Klbkch stared into the mirror. He and the Free Queen looked at each other. Neither spoke for a long moment. Then the Free Queen spoke.
“Klbkchhezeim.”
“Yes, my Queen.”
“You are a Senior Guardsman of Liscor, are you not? I know little of your titles. Of your life above. I have seen through your gaze, but I do not understand. When you speak of your time above, I am jealous. You have met others whom you speak highly of above. ‘Friends’.”
Klbkch lowered his head.
“I have, my Queen.”
“Could you slay them? Could you let them die? For the plan?”
The Free Queen stared at Klbkch. For a long moment, the Revalantor of the Free Antinium stared at the ground. And then he looked up. His voice was cold as he opened his mandibles.
“If you ask it of me, my Queen, it will be done. Simply give me the order and I will take Liscor for you.”
“Ah, Klbkch. But would it pain you?”
Klbkch tapped his chest with one finger. The sound was dull. He placed his hands on his swords and bowed.
“I am Klbkchhezeim of the Centenium before I am anything else. For the Hives, I would do anything.”
It was the answer the Free Queen sought. She nodded and turned away. Her voice grew distant as she rose.
“If it must be, Klbkchhezeim, we will take Liscor as required by the Grand Queen. Even if that means the complete eradication of Liscor’s populace.”
“Yes, my Queen.”
The two said nothing else. They stood, feeling cold and alien to the city full of warm-blooded people above. Cold. And old. And tired. Then they heard a voice. It did not come from the mirror or the vessel which had gone limp. It came from behind them. A weak, warbling voice.
“Who were they?”
Klbkch whirled. The Free Queen exclaimed as she pulled herself over.
“Bird.”
The little Worker was trying to sit up. He was not bleeding, but he could barely move. He relaxed as the Queen lifted him with two feelers.
“Ow. I am much ow. I heard voices. Not just in my head.”
“You are alive. Are you well? Do you sense your injuries worsening?”
Bird thought about that.
“It hurts.”
“Yes.”
The Grand Queen bent over him. Her mandibles opened and closed, and Klbkch sensed her anger, previously dormant, resurfacing.
“I will kill the one who did this, Bird.”
“Oh. That is good. I am not happy with them either. But I am mostly hurt. Where is my bow?”
Bird tried to look around and then flinched. Klbkch looked around. The bow was missing. The Queen fussed over Bird.
“Hold still. You are hurt. You must not move.”
“It hurts. It hurts muchly.”
“Yes. But you will live. You will stay here, Bird. You will stay and be well.”
“I am hurt. I am sad. Bad things happened to me. And to Miss Erin’s inn.”
“She—”
The wrath in the Queen’s voice was foreboding. But the next words that Bird said silenced her. They chased the thoughts of betrayal and war from Klbkch’s head for a moment.
“Am I allowed to cry? I would like to cry, please.”
Klbkch froze. The Queen froze. They stared at Bird.
“Cry?”
Bird nodded.
“I would like to. I would have, but I did not know if I had permission? May I have it?”
The Free Queen looked at Klbkch, but he didn’t know what to say. She looked down at Bird, her antennae waving about wildly.
“But—the Antinium cannot cry.”
“They cannot? Then what will I do?”
Bird looked up, confused. No one could answer him. He looked from face to face and then seemed to come to a conclusion.
“I am going to cry.”
No one stopped him. Klbkch’s heart raced, though he couldn’t say why. It was impossible. The Antinium could not cry. It was completely, utterly impossible. They had not been designed to. The First Queen had not wept, though her heart had broken a thousand times. Not one of the Centenium had wept. No Antinium had wept. But then Bird opened his mouth and began to speak.
“Waah. Waaah. Waaaaaah. Waaaah. Waaah. Waah. Waaaaaah. Waah. Waaah. Waaaaaah. Waaah. Waaah…”
It was not crying in the way babies cried. It was not a reactionary sound or a sob or a hiccup of pain. Bird just said the word over again.
“Waah. Waaah. Waaaaaah. Wah. Waaah. Waaaah…”
It was insistent, annoying. And Bird did not stop. It sounded nothing like crying. It sounded like a mockery of it, in fact. Klbkch stared at Bird. At first, he was shocked, then he was furious. He opened his mandibles to tell Bird to be silent—
And then he realized the truth. Klbkch stopped and stared at Bird. The sound was annoying. It got on the nerves. Klbkch had listened to babies wail and not been discomforted. But Bird made the sound, and he reacted as he had seen Drakes and Gnolls grimace. And the sound kept going. A cry for help. An expression of pain. It was…Bird was…
Crying.
He was crying, though he had no tears to shed. Though the Antinium didn’t cry. He had learned to cry. And the sound went on and on. The Free Queen held Bird, staring at him. And then, slowly, she began to cradle him, move him back and forth.
Klbkch stared. The way the Queen held Bird was familiar. But she had not learned that from the Antinium. She had seen it in his memories, through his eyes. She cradled Bird as he cried in her chambers. She bent over him, and Klbkch felt something in her emotions he had never felt before.
He shuddered and took a step back. He stared at Bird, then turned. He had to go. He had to—Klbkch fled the sound of Bird’s crying and the strange emotion. He strode back into the Hive, past the staring Garry and Soldiers. The Hive must be readied. Klbkch knew that.
But no matter how far he went, he still heard the sound. It echoed through the corridors, following him. A sound of sadness and pain as Klbkch strode through the tunnels of the Hive and began to prepare for war.
——
Headscratcher sat in his cell. He was miserable. Across from him, Erin sat in the cell, telling the other Hobs a story about the time she’d thrown a snowball at a ‘car’. A Minotaur stared blankly at him from his cell, looking lost. Headscratcher tried to listen, but he couldn’t.
They had lied to the Watch. Not by words; they had barely been able to speak. But by omission. The Watch had questioned them about who had hurt Bird, about the identity of the mysterious Hob. They had told them about the beard and greatsword. Not the name.
It was one thing to hate Greydath, and Headscratcher did with all his heart. But it was another thing to tell the Drakes everything. To kill the other Goblin, to betray him. And yet, if there was a Goblin worthy of that, it was him.
Greydath. The name meant something, Headscratcher was sure. Greydath could not have been just a Hobgoblin wanderer. He had been someone before; his Skills told that if nothing else. Headscratcher clenched a fist and felt the helpless rage surging in him. He fought it down. If he went mad now, he would only scare Erin. He could not break free of the cell.
But the anger wouldn’t go away. Greydath. He had done it. He had ruined everything. The Hobs were in jail. Numbtongue was the only one who was free. Bird was hurt, and Erin had cried. She had wiped away the tears and now she was smiling, but every now and then, her face would turn sad.
And it was all their fault. Headscratcher closed his eyes. Everything was desolation. But he knew one thing more after having fought Greydath. One valuable thing.
One thing. He clung to that fact. None of the Hobs had said it, but they had all realized it.
Badarrow had hurt Greydath. With an arrow. It hadn’t even been shot from his bow; the Hob had just stabbed him with it. That meant Greydath had no Skills to enhance his skin. He was just…fast. Skilled beyond belief. But his injury meant he could be hurt even by an ordinary sword.
He could die. Headscratcher remembered that, because he would not forgive Greydath. But then he looked up and saw Erin looking at him, and his guilt burned him again.
“Sorry.”
He said it again. Erin paused, and her smile wavered. She stopped telling her story and sat closer to the bars.
“Hey. What happened to Bird wasn’t your fault, right?”
“Was.”
Headscratcher shook his head. He couldn’t explain. Erin stared at him.
“Did you hurt Bird?”
“No.”
“Did the Goblin who hurt Bird do it because you told him to?”
“No!”
“Did you let him hurt Bird?”
“Tried—”
Headscratcher shook his head. Erin nodded.
“Then it’s not your fault. You tried. He was just…a jerk.”
“But—”
“It’s not your fault what other people do, Headscratcher. It’s not your fault what they do. Only what you do.”
Headscratcher’s eyes stung. Not just because Erin had told him it wasn’t his fault. Not only because he was relieved. He had feared she would blame him. Not only because he wished he could rip open his chest to show her how sorry he was. No, for one other reason.
It’s not your fault for what other people do. She called Goblins people. Headscratcher wiped his eyes, then looked up at Erin. She stared at him, trying to smile.
“We have to go. Can’t stay. Bad things coming. Goblin Lord.”
Erin’s smile vanished. Headscratcher fought with the words Numbtongue had begun teaching him. He wanted to talk to Erin.
“If stay…Drakes mad. We know. Must go. Should—should have—”
“Should have gone already.”
Shorthilt spoke from his cell. Erin looked at him and then Headscratcher. She shook her head.
“You’re in jail. You can’t go anywhere, guys.”
The Hobs looked at her. Erin’s tremulous smile vanished.
“Sorry. Bad joke.”
She sat there with them in silence. Headscratcher wiped his eyes. At last, Erin spoke.
“It’s all happening so fast.”
No one replied. The Hobs looked down. The Minotaur stared at Erin from his cell. Erin looked at the stone floor. Her voice was quiet. Perhaps the entire prison was listening to her. Perhaps they were alone in the world.
“It’s all happening. And I want it not to. I want time to stop. I want to be here—even here, forever. I don’t want to know what happens next. Why can’t things stay the same? Forever?”
She looked up. And there were tears in her eyes. Headscratcher wiped his arm across his face. Badarrow turned his head away. Shorthilt and Rabbiteater scrubbed at their eyes.
“At least tonight…at least one more day.”
One more day. They were in jail, separated in cells that smelled a bit like pee, on hard stone. But they were here. Erin, the Goblins. Headscratcher had never been happier in his life. Never sadder. He looked up and through watery eyes, saw a Minotaur close his and sink to the ground.
For one more day, they sat together. Human, Goblins, and the Minotaur.
Waiting, waiting. Waiting for everything to change.
——
The Necromancer finished plotting, and his apprentice thought of death. The Queens departed, and their Hives began to stir. Erin Solstice sat with four Hobs, and they and she said everything they wanted to say. And Olesm sat in the City Hall, at his office’s desk, poring over plans.
He had not rested, though the hour was late. Pallassian troops had begun moving slowly through the door to Liscor, though the cost in mana to the [Mages] was painfully high, even with the door staying in Erin’s inn to soak up the ambient magical power. But they were coming.
And Olesm had plans. He’d consulted with Zevara, begun preparing Liscor for the attack, discussed how to blockade the streets with Ilvriss, even checked the sewers for the possibilities of collapsing them or laying traps. He had a thousand and ten things to do, but tonight, he was looking at a book.
Reports, actually. Old ones. Olesm had demanded them from Pallass, and they had been sent. Now he read them feverishly. They were concise, written after the fact in brief by a Drake not used to lengthy reports. The actual content of the reports was short, but so many people had added addendums and other details and insights that it was like reading a book. But Olesm read each and every word, trying to memorize as much as possible.
The account he was reading was of a siege. Of a city that had fallen to an invading army. Only, it hadn’t been Humans who’d taken the city. It had been Antinium. They’d overrun the city in hours, but the Drakes had retreated. Into a dungeon of all places. And they had held there for months.
The Drake who had written the report did not glamorize what had happened. He wrote frankly and unassumingly, at odds with the glorified notes of all those who had chimed in. He had signed the reports simply.
