The Last Talisman (14 page)

17

Ido at the Academy

Ido gave his new sword a go in battle and the results far exceeded his expectations. One ghost after another evaporated beneath his powerful blade, and things were going well. Regretfully, however, the dwarf had yet to find an opportunity to test Soana's art out on his main target. For months, in fact, there'd been no trace at all of the vermillion knight.

Ido did his best to keep the sorceress's words in mind—
However gravely he may have wronged you or Nihal, he's still an enemy like any other
—but it wasn't easy. When he stepped on the battlefield, his first reaction was to scan the area for a glint of red armor, though nothing came of it. Before long, the hunt began to bore him. Battle followed battle in an endless, monotonous chain, and the situation grew more disheartening with each day.

As a late spring crept in and the temperature began to rise, the Council called a meeting in the Land of the Sun, requesting the attendance of all generals.

It was truly a massive event, with nearly a hundred representatives: the rulers of the Free Lands, the most important generals, the sorcerers on the Council. Nevertheless, the meeting was carried out with order and punctuality. An air of death and desolation pervaded the meeting hall, instilling an unusual calm in all present.

In the four months since their first encounter with the Tyrant's army of the dead, things had only gotten worse. Already half of the Land of Water had been lost, and the remaining half was under serious threat. Nearly all of the available troops had been dispatched along the receding battlefront, and yet they still lacked the numbers necessary to halt the enemy's advance. And with the Land of the Sun under threat as well, the idea of sending in more troops was out of the question.

“If it stays like this, we won't be able to hold out much longer. We'll merely weaken along both borders and risk invasion by the Tyrant here in our land as well,” said Sulana, queen of the Land of the Sun.

The assembly fell silent. The facts reported by the general left no room for a positive outcome, and only one idea gripped the room: Soon, the Land of Water would fall.

“I won't allow my kingdom to be defeated.”

The words of Galla, ruler of the Land of Water, resounded through the assembly hall.

“My wife died for this kingdom. Thousands of nymphs gave their lives in order to save it. I, too, will continue to defend it, in their name and in their honor.”

“Your Majesty, we're fighting here alongside you. We simply do not have the numbers. That's what we're trying to tell you—” Mavern protested.

“What we need is a single, full-out offensive,” said Galla, cutting in before the general could finish his thought. “We'll arrange a sweeping attack. That way we'll at least have some time to catch our breath.”

Ido shook his head. He understood where he was coming from, but the idea was sheer madness. Not only was Galla inexperienced as a soldier, he was the king of a peaceful land.

“Nothing would come of it. We're on our last leg. A full-out offensive would be nothing but a swan song,” Soana objected.

“Would you rather sacrifice the Land of Water? Would you rather lose it completely? Though they may not be men of arms, the men of my kingdom are here to fight. If the Land of Water falls into enemy hands, you'll lose their support as a consequence, and the gods know how badly we're in need of men, especially now that the Tyrant's found a way to continually replenish his troops.”

“Your Majesty, I believe, is right,” said Theris, the nymph representing the Land of Water. “In our current conditions, the loss of another land would mean our doom. We have to take the risk, to at least try, if only to buy more time and gather our defenses.”

In the end, the motion for an all-out attack was upheld. Ido found little reason for optimism. More than half of the Land of Water had already been vanquished; misery and despair seemed permanent guests in the region. Despite Galla's declarations, the additional troops his land offered were hardly numerous and, for the most part, were men who'd never set foot on the battlefield. Saving the Land of Water from the Tyrant would serve only to raise the troops' morale. The dwarf, however, kept his objections to himself. To snuff the faint flame of hope still flickering among the assembly would have been cruel, and an inch gained against the enemy was better than no gain at all.

The offensive was planned for the following month.

One morning, a messenger arrived at the encampment and asked for Ido. “The Supreme General Raven requests your presence at the Academy,” he announced the moment he'd entered Ido's tent.

At first, Ido was perplexed, though bewilderment quickly gave way to frustration. If Raven wanted to see him, there was doubtless some ugly motive behind it. Bad blood ran between the two. Raven could never bring himself to trust Ido, and the dwarf detested the general in return. From the very moment Ido had enlisted in the armies of the Free Lands, Raven had done all he could to trip him up.

In any case, when the Supreme General called, there was no refusing. Ido mounted Vesa and once again set off for Makrat and its loathed Academy.

Of course, once he arrived, he was forced to jump through all the age-old bureaucratic hoops before he merited a hearing with Raven; only after a useless and mind-numbing hour of waiting was he admitted to speak with the general.

As usual, Ido gave only a cursory bow of reverence. He had never once knelt down before that inflated ego of man and he certainly had no intention of doing so now.

“Is there no end to your childish behavior?” asked Raven drily.

Strangely, his beloved, yappy dog was absent from the room. And his armor, too, seemed unusually sober, at least by Raven's standards.

“You must be used to it by now, I imagine,” Ido replied.

“One's rank is still one's rank, I'm afraid.”

Ido huffed. “And this whole conversation's a rather
rank
experience for the both of us, don't you think, so why don't we just get it over with.”

“You know better than I do that it's not exactly a rosy state of affairs out on the battlefield right now. We're lacking troops, particularly when we're up against the Tyrant's all-but-infinite army. The situation is dire, and it's time for desperate measures.”

“I don't think this is news to either of us. If I'm not mistaken, we already went over this with the Council.”

It was obvious how desperately Raven was straining to hold back his anger, and Ido almost regretted having prodded him so relentlessly.

“Excellent. Seeing that you're in such a rush to get to the point … I've spoken with the other teachers at the Academy and we've come to a decision. Students who have not yet completed their advanced training will now be fighting among the armies.”

Ido's eyes bulged. “You mean those who've yet to complete their apprenticeship with a knight?”

“Precisely.”

“But these are just kids you're talking about, kids who've never set foot on a battlefield. I don't see what help they could be. …”

“We'll provide them with the necessary training, and I believe I've already explained how dire the situation is. We need men, as many as we can round up. And a soldier with partial training is better than a farmer or a shepherd picking up a sword for the first time, and on whom we've already relied in previous battles. In any case, all those currently completing their apprenticeships will fight as well.”

“Fine, agreed, but what does any of this have to do with me?” Ido asked impatiently, though even as he formulated the question, a doubt began to take shape in his mind.

There's no way he'd …

“You've been chosen to oversee the selection and training of the students,” Raven informed him.

Ido stood there dumbstruck, riveted to the floor.

“Obviously, you'll also be charged with leading them in battle. They'll be your own personal troops, a unit of one hundred or so young men, to which I'll be sure to add three hundred, well-experienced soldiers.”

Ido gazed out the window. At the very least, he expected to see a pig fly by. But there were nothing but clouds.

“All said and done, you did a stellar job with that blue-haired fury on the battlefield, and I believe you're the best man for the position.”

A silence as fragile as glass filled the room, until Ido shattered it with a booming guffaw.

“This is anything but comical, Ido!” Raven shouted. “Or perhaps you don't feel up to the challenge?”

Ido regained his composure. To keep up such buffoonery in front of the Supreme General much longer would be out of order. Even if he did consider the man an arrogant imbecile, he was nevertheless a superior officer.

“The problem isn't whether or not I feel up to the challenge,” said the dwarf, smiling wryly, “but whether or not you consider me worthy. …”

“Do you think I became Supreme General by sheer chance? Do you take me for a fool?” Raven scoffed, rallying his defenses. “We're at war here, and in one hell of a mess, as I've just told you. I think you know by now how little I trust you, and you can imagine how much I loathe offering you this assignment, but you're a shrewd and capable warrior with a wealth of experience, and men like you are exactly what we need right now. And the good of the Free Lands is far more important than any foolish grudge or personal vendetta.”

Ido's limbs turned wooden and he stood there slack-jawed, unable to stage a defense. Who was this new Raven standing before him?

“You'll have Parsel's aid in selecting your army,” the General continued, “and obviously you'll be assigned proper lodgings here at the Academy. If you have no further nonsense to add, then that will be all. Parsel is waiting for you outside.”

At that, the General turned on his heels and walked away with his usual pomp, leaving Ido no time to respond.

Humiliated, Ido exited the office. He was proud of his new assignment, but at the same time, peeved with himself for having acted such a fool. Yes, the world was truly topsy-turvy. First, he had lost his cool on the battlefield and stooped to obsessing over an archnemesis, and now Raven was suddenly using his head to think.

Ido had heard Parsel's name mentioned on a few occasions, at least once or twice by Nihal. From what he could recall, the man was the only teacher who'd treated her with any decency during her time at the Academy.

Parsel was a tall, lanky man with brown hair, a thick mustache, and a rough way about him. Ido had a hard time matching up the gruff man standing before him with the image he'd formed in his head from Nihal's stories, though he wasn't exactly surprised. The Academy was filled with men who cast him crooked glances and treated him like an inferior. Which was exactly why he despised the place.

Before all else, those who attended the Academy were almost exclusively spoiled brats—the sons of renowned warriors. Nihal was the rare exception, Laio the general rule. To be admitted, your father had at least to be a knight, or else a court dignitary. The starving masses weren't exactly prime candidates. And as if that weren't already enough, students were, for the most part, solely men. Rich and male—in other words, a gang of snobs in constant competition with one another. Of course, there were always a few exceptions, but the large majority of the students pacing the Academy halls were mindless mannequins. Until they stepped onto the battlefield and changed forever.

After Dola's death, the story of Ido's past had become common knowledge among military circles, making him an even more controversial figure. Not only was he a dwarf, but he was a former enemy. A brief stroll around the Academy with Parsel brought all his negative recollections of the place rushing back. Every person he walked by cast him a leery eye.

Parsel led him to a cramped, spartan room that would serve as his lodgings for the next few weeks. What little light there was filtered in through a high window. It reminded Ido of the cell he'd been locked away in when he was first turned over to the Council, after breaking ties with the Tyrant. He felt short of breath.

“This is the best we can offer,” Parsel said flatly.

Ido snapped out of his daydream. “Well, it's certainly more comfortable than the tents where I usually sleep.”

Briefly, they discussed the task at hand and, before leaving, Parsel filled Ido in on the schedule for the following day, when they'd make their selections.

It wasn't long before Ido had an opportunity to recall the second reason he hated the Academy. His door resounded with a heavy knocking and Malerba limped inside.

Ido couldn't bring himself to look at him. The first time they'd met, he'd been horrified. Whatever the details of Malerba's past were, Ido didn't know, but one needed only glance at him to figure out that he was a dwarf who'd been severely tortured. Beneath the mangled surface of his appearance, Ido knew how much they resembled one another, and this spurred him to an almost suffocating anger. He thought of his people's immense suffering, of the laboratories full of dwarves used as guinea pigs for the Tyrant's experiments. For twenty years, rather than defend his people, he'd aided the Tyrant's plans, he'd helped him to torture dwarves just like himself, down in the dungeons of the Rock. The thought alone was unbearable, and as a consequence, so was Malerba's company.

When he saw Ido, Malerba greeted him with a toothless smile. Perhaps, in his troubled mind, he felt they shared a common bond. “The great warrior …”

Ido averted his eyes. “Yes, yes, the great warrior … Do what you have to do here and go.”

He heard Malerba's high-pitched chuckle, like that of a giddy child, followed by a few garbled, senseless words. Then the being approached him and began to caress his arm.

“I was waiting for you … so nice … so nice … so pleased. The great warrior …”