Chapter Thirty-Seven
River Bega
Former Transellia
Illarion Glazkov
They journeyed up the River Bega on the boat Kristoph had arranged. Most of the survivors were happy, because they knew they would receive a hero’s welcome once they were back in Cobetsnya. The most difficult part for all of them to understand was that far less time had passed here than they had seemingly spent in the Sister’s Realm. It was an odd thing, best not to be dwelled on.
Illarion spent his days with the crew, doing their best to repair Object 12 with the rudimentary tools they had available. Sotnik Chankov never rejoined them. The wounds he had received on the other side had become infected, and he had become delirious with fever. The medics had been unable to help him.
He checked on Chankov often, but there was nothing he could do but watch his friend grow increasingly weaker. When Illarion couldn’t be there, Natalya would sit by his bunk and keep Chankov company. And when Natalya slept, Albert Darus would take her place, or one of the crew. It would not be fitting for such a brave man to die alone.
Though Illarion had been personally wronged by the gods, he also knew they were real, so he prayed for them to let Chankov heal. Except one of the Sisters had put Chankov here, while the other hadn’t granted Illarion the strength necessary to keep his people safe. So of the two gods he had met, he doubted either of them would help; the last Sister was their sworn enemy; and the Almighty didn’t seem to care about the affairs of men. If He did, surely He wouldn’t have allowed this war to continue for a hundred years.
With no gods left to ask, Illarion had gone to ask a favor of the devil instead.
Kristoph Vals had claimed the biggest cabin for himself, though even it was still rather humble. He had not been seen much during the river journey, having mostly confined himself to his room, where he had relentlessly questioned the mysterious prisoner, seemingly around the clock, and never when there were any witnesses to overhear their conversations.
The secret policeman had let Illarion in. “What is it, Glazkov?”
The prisoner was tied to a chair in the corner. From the many bruises on his face and the bloody towel on the floor he must have given a few answers that Kristoph had not cared for.
“Sotnik Chankov’s condition is worsening.”
“Unfortunate. He’s a good man. I do not say that frivolously either. He is an impressive officer. Had the Tsar a thousand more like him—even a hundred, I daresay—the war would already be won. But what do you expect me to do about it?”
“Not you.” Illarion nodded toward the captive. “Him.”
“Ah, but Glazkov. That is just a Transellian peasant of no importance, who I picked up to question about the current political situation in that country.”
“Which is why he brought a golem to life to fight for him.”
“That’s not what it will say in my report.” Kristoph gave him a wry smile and shook his still-bandaged head. “And if you are smart, you will not mention that part either. We must have simply crossed paths with some Prajan relic, left over from the last time they traveled this far south, and it must have been attracted to our Object, being of similar magics. Simple explanations are for the best. If you draw too much attention to these events, the Chancellor himself might become curious about the details, which could be very bad for someone like you.” Kristoph began to close the door.
Illarion stopped it with one hand. “I don’t care about your schemes, Kristoph. I care about the life of my friend. I know what this man is. Maybe he can help.”
“You are speaking in some dangerous hypotheticals.”
“I know you intend to use me, and blackmail me, and see what use you can wring out of me before I die in order to further your goals. You’re no different than the Baba Yaga.”
“A compliment? I have become fond of you too, Glazkov.”
“Enough games.” As Illarion said this, the old man looked at him with sad, pleading eyes, as if begging him not to make this pact, but it was too late for that. “You want to involve me in your plots, Kristoph, so be it. I’ll help you, but in exchange you help me too.”
“I neglected to turn you over to the Directorate as a threat to state security after the first glimmer I had that you were gifted. Would you not say that is rather helpful? But I see where you are going. You’d like to move up from pawn to confidant. Ambitious.” Kristoph thought it over for a moment. “Though the timing is fortunate, because what this man has told me so far has changed everything.” Kristoph made a mock bow. “Welcome to my conspiracy.”
“You can tell me what manner of traitorous foolishness I’m involved in later. First we have to help Chankov.”
“Very well.” Kristoph went over to the prisoner and began untying his legs. “I’m curious to see how this works myself.”
Kristoph kept one hand on the old man the entire time, and his other on his pistol. He didn’t untie his hands or remove the gag from his mouth. When they reached the cabin that Chankov had been assigned to, Natalya was the only person there. Illarion had not had much chance to talk to her on the boat, and even though she complained that being trapped someplace this crowded reminded her too much of being in the city, she hadn’t been drinking. She rose when they entered.
“How is he?”
“Not well. Chankov won’t wake up anymore. All he does is mutter and twitch like he’s having bad dreams.” She saw Kristoph and the prisoner and got a nervous look on her face. “Your turn then. I’d best be getting back on look out.”
“Why the rush, Ms. Baston? No, you should stay.” Kristoph closed the door. “There is no need for secrecy when you are the only other member of our little expedition who knows this man’s true importance.”
“I’d really rather not be involved.”
“Oh, you and I both know it is far too late for that.” Kristoph reached up and pulled the gag from the prisoner’s mouth. “Amos Lowe, meet your only other friends in the world.”
Amos gave them both a respectful nod. “I am Amos Lowe.” Kristoph made a gesture for him to continue. “Currently I am nothing. Formerly I was an Elder of the Tribe of Issachar, a Revered Magi at the Prajan Academy, and associate of Nicodemus Firsch.”
“And the most wanted man in Kolakolvia and Almacia, for reasons which will shortly be expounded upon,” Kristoph said. “Now, if you please, holy man. Can you save him or not?”
Amos went to the narrow bunk. Chankov looked like a shadow of himself. He was shivering and soaked with sweat. His skin was deathly pale. The ghoul tattoo curling up his neck was the most lively thing on him. Amos slowly pulled back the bandages on his chest to examine the wound. “Oh my.”
Illarion cringed when he saw the cuts, festering and black. Chankov had gotten those saving his life. He had to turn his head in shame.
“I will need a few minutes.” Amos pulled up the stool that Natalya had been using, and then sat down next to Chankov. He held Chankov’s arm as if taking his pulse, and then was quiet for so long that Illarion wondered if the old man had gone to sleep. Strangely enough, Chankov’s shivering and muttering stopped. For once, he seemed to be at peace.
“Why have you dragged me into this?” Natalya hissed.
“I didn’t intend to,” Illarion replied. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t blame him, my dear. You were destined for this as soon as I picked you for that first scouting mission. The three of us are the only people who know this man is alive. Now I will tell you why that is so valuable—that knowledge will bind us irrevocably. Ever since Nicodemus Firsch arrived in Kolakolvia and took the Tsar’s ear, his single greatest command to every member of the Directorate has been to find Amos Lowe, though none of us understood why he was so important until I questioned him. If only I had known.”
“He’s a magi,” Illarion stated.
“He’s much more than that. Magi are rare among every people but the Prajans, but Amos Lowe was one of the greatest among them, overshadowed only by our dear friend Nicodemus, who would eventually become our Chancellor. The Tsar was happy to have such a wise and powerful foreigner become his advisor, because magi are scarce among our people, but the Tsar was a fool who didn’t understand what manner of viper he was letting into the palace. In the years since, Nicodemus has sunk his hooks into everything, and now he is the real power behind the throne.”
“I don’t care which madman runs your rotten country, Kristoph,” Natalya spat. “I don’t have a country. I have a caravan. And half of them are locked up in your gulag.”
“Ah, but what Nicodemus is secretly using the empire for affects all of mankind. Everything he has steered us toward has been for a singular purpose. The war continues only to fuel Nicodemus’ desires. I know you despise me for how I use others, but everything I have done has been for the good of the empire. The Chancellor uses the entire empire the way I have used a handful of people, but for the good of only himself. The empire gave Nicodemus the resources he needed for his work. He invented the Objects and the Cursed, shallow impersonations of a true golem. From what I have gleaned from Mr. Lowe, that thing Glazkov fought was powered by a fraction of a life. A fraction of a human soul. Imagine what a whole one could do?”
Illarion would rather not.
“These are inanimate things given life through the sacrifice of another, willing sacrifice in the case of the golems, unwilling in the case of the Cursed. It’s through his and Amos’ work that Nicodemus discovered how to use the spirits of the dead to provide magical power. He’s been capturing and enslaving more and more ever since. Hence his indestructible nature. He simply cannot currently be killed. Multitudes have tried to assassinate him, but he keeps coming back.”
“What is the Chancellor’s ultimate goal then?” Illarion asked.
Amos Lowe spoke up. “He intends to enslave the spirit of every human who has ever died in this world, to amass sufficient power to challenge the gods himself.”
Natalya’s mouth fell open. “That’s madness.”
“That’s not even the mad part,” Amos said. “To accomplish this, he’ll probably have to bring about a bloodletting the likes of which are beyond mortal imagining. In his thirst for power he will leave every nation in Novimir a burned-out husk.”
“It does no good to crown yourself king of a wasteland,” Natalya said.
“Ah, but Nicodemus is too ambitious for just one world. He will burn this one, so that he can return to the old world our ancestors came from, as a wrathful, conquering god.”
Illarion remembered the Witch’s words, her admonition to protect her chosen people. She had placed him here. This was all her doing. And then he thought of the prophecy of The Needle, and how she spoke of the dead needing his help. “Then we must stop the Chancellor.”
“Ah, and our young soldier has a noble soul. Agreed. I did not realize what Nicodemus has been up to since we parted ways, but Mr. Vals has told me enough about current events that I can reason out his plans. It’s why he’s so interested in the blood storms. It’s why he keeps sending expeditions to the Dead Sister’s realm.” Amos shook his head. “I hoped he would never be able to realize his dreams without my help. I underestimated him. He is much farther along than I ever expected.”
“Then help me, Amos,” Kristoph said. “Help me overthrow the Chancellor and save Kolakolvia.”
Illarion and Natalya shared a worried glance. They had just crossed a very dangerous line.
“I doubt you truly care that much about your nation, except to rule it yourself, Mr. Vals. Like Nicodemus, you strike me as a man of intelligence and great ambition. You may even be an evil man, perhaps. But you are nothing compared to him. Evil men come and go. They do terrible things and hurt many. But evil magi have the capability to crack the world in two. For this reason, and this reason alone, I will help you defeat him.”
“Your terms are acceptable. I will hide you from the Chancellor, and in exchange you will help me replace him,” Kristoph said. “If you cross me, it will mean your death.”
Amos nodded. “I would expect nothing less.”
“What of Chankov?” Illarion asked. “Can you help him?”
“Alas, I’m sorry. I can comfort him, but it is not the sickness of the body which is killing him. It’s an affliction of the soul. His spirit has been claimed by another, someone far more powerful than I could ever be. His presence is wanted elsewhere. The longer he is away from it, the weaker he will become.”
He had been marked on the other side. There must have been some prophecy to Chankov’s dreams after all. “I think his courage impressed the Sister of Vengeance.”
“Who the Sisters choose, they will surely give a just reward,” Amos said.
Kristoph unconsciously put one hand to the bandage covering his missing eye as he took a step away.
“I will help your friend be at peace until then. It is the least I can do.”
“Thank you,” Illarion said, eyes burning.
There was some commotion outside. Natalya put her ear to the door. “Sounds like there’s another boat approaching. It might be Almacians.”
“Damn it,” Kristoph said. “I will put this situation to rest. You two, keep an eye on our new friend.”
Natalya waited until Kristoph had gone before saying, “So we’re plotting to overthrow the government now?”
“Your bones didn’t predict this?”
“Nothing could have predicted this, Illarion!”
He took her by the hands and looked into her eyes, whispering so Amos wouldn’t hear, pleading with all his heart. “Once your parents are free, take them and run. Get as far away from the empire as you can. This is not your war.”
She shook her head and said nothing, terrifying Illarion that she would stay for him.
Amos said, “I am sorry, young man, that you gave your word to someone as vile as Kristoph Vals, in exchange for a mercy that I couldn’t even grant. But everything I said was true. Nicodemus must be stopped at all costs.”
He had been tasked by the Witch to protect her chosen people, but he had thought the threats she spoke of would come from another land, not from its own leaders. “Kristoph is not the first dark thing I’ve had to make a pact with, Mr. Lowe. Nor is he the most dangerous. I will do whatever I have to do.”
“Do you believe in fate, Illarion?” Amos asked.
“I do now.”
“That is good, because as cunning as your secret policeman surely is, it will take a magi to defeat a magi. Nicodemus slaughtered the rest of the college because they were scholars, not warriors. You are already a warrior. I will teach you to be a magi.”