Read Online Heretic (The Sanctuary Series Book 7) by Robert J. Crane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert J. Crane
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ignoring Vaste.
“Goliath also has some twenty thousand or more, though it’s hard to count because they’re housing most of their forces in the Bandit Lands,” Terian went on, as if reading from a list, “and Amarath’s Raiders has a company of some five thousand, a much higher than usual mix of spellcasters mingled in there, possibly as many as a thousand of their number.”
“So it’s one hundred and seventy five thousand to ten thousand,” Vaste said. “Oh, good. That hope I was feeling at your proclamation of support got quashed all by itself.”
“It’s not that bad,” Terian said, “we’ve got about twenty thousand troops at our command in the Sovereignty, though admittedly many are very young or very old. The war went a little hard on us, after all—”
“Thirty thousand to—” Vaste stopped. “You know, I’m just going to say six-to-one.”
“Easy odds,” Terian said with a grin. “If you wanted to fight them straight up … though I wouldn’t exactly recommend it.”
Cyrus’s head felt as though it were spinning. “Then what do you recommend? Because all I’m hearing now is talk of armies and comparisons with staggering numbers of troops at a level I can’t even conceive of battling against.”
“Cyrus,” Terian said in disappointment, “you took ten thousand charging Luukessians against a hundred thousand dark elves at the Battle of Sanctuary, and you wiped them out utterly.”
“We caught them with their backs to us on a charge,” Cyrus said. “It wasn’t a fair fight—”
Terian clapped his gauntlets together. “Exactly!”
“You’re suggesting we start an unfair fight?” Calene Raverle asked in utter bewilderment. “Oy, between the herds of roving naked dwarves and all the war and defeat, I feel a bit dizzy …”
“You’ll get used to it,” Vaste said.
“Damned right I’m saying you should start an unfair fight,” Terian said. “We set the terms of these engagements and knock them back in pitched battles where they don’t even realize they’re battles until they’re counting their dead with regret.”
“I don’t think Malpravus feels regret over the dead,” Vaste said. “More like fond longing. Glee, even.”
“Aren’t you a paladin now?” Cyrus asked Terian, feeling once more as though he’d been turned in a circle quite rapidly.
“Paladins protect other people; it’s our highest law. Aren’t you facing enemies that set a trap for you using your former wife’s signature and then stole your sword right off your belt while your back was turned?” Terian asked, now serious. “These people are treacherous dogs and you’re not a paladin. You’re a man who’s surrounded by his enemies and is about to be run through on all sides. If you want to try and fight them fair without Praelior, you can do that.” He shook his head. “But I wouldn’t bet on your survival, and neither would anyone else. You need to be the General again, the one who valued his army’s lives so much he never got in a fight unless he had six tricks up his sleeve.”
“Assuming I—” Cyrus quit his question right in the middle of it, running his gauntleted fingers over his forehead and coming back with their tips moist. “I don’t know how I would even approach this, assuming I bought into your conceit about an unfair fight.”
“How would you have approached it when you were in the Society?” Terian asked, once more looking especially sly. “This is a fight for survival, Cyrus. They started it. They’ve wanted you dead all along, now they’ve just snapped it to highest priority. They will come at you with everything, and it’s not just you—it’s your guild, it’s the people you care about, it’s your allies—they’re going to come at us, in any part of Arkaria where the Leagues hold sway. You can meet them in honest battle if you want. I know you tried the more deceitful tack with the titans and didn’t like the taste of treachery, but these
“Goliath also has some twenty thousand or more, though it’s hard to count because they’re housing most of their forces in the Bandit Lands,” Terian went on, as if reading from a list, “and Amarath’s Raiders has a company of some five thousand, a much higher than usual mix of spellcasters mingled in there, possibly as many as a thousand of their number.”
“So it’s one hundred and seventy five thousand to ten thousand,” Vaste said. “Oh, good. That hope I was feeling at your proclamation of support got quashed all by itself.”
“It’s not that bad,” Terian said, “we’ve got about twenty thousand troops at our command in the Sovereignty, though admittedly many are very young or very old. The war went a little hard on us, after all—”
“Thirty thousand to—” Vaste stopped. “You know, I’m just going to say six-to-one.”
“Easy odds,” Terian said with a grin. “If you wanted to fight them straight up … though I wouldn’t exactly recommend it.”
Cyrus’s head felt as though it were spinning. “Then what do you recommend? Because all I’m hearing now is talk of armies and comparisons with staggering numbers of troops at a level I can’t even conceive of battling against.”
“Cyrus,” Terian said in disappointment, “you took ten thousand charging Luukessians against a hundred thousand dark elves at the Battle of Sanctuary, and you wiped them out utterly.”
“We caught them with their backs to us on a charge,” Cyrus said. “It wasn’t a fair fight—”
Terian clapped his gauntlets together. “Exactly!”
“You’re suggesting we start an unfair fight?” Calene Raverle asked in utter bewilderment. “Oy, between the herds of roving naked dwarves and all the war and defeat, I feel a bit dizzy …”
“You’ll get used to it,” Vaste said.
“Damned right I’m saying you should start an unfair fight,” Terian said. “We set the terms of these engagements and knock them back in pitched battles where they don’t even realize they’re battles until they’re counting their dead with regret.”
“I don’t think Malpravus feels regret over the dead,” Vaste said. “More like fond longing. Glee, even.”
“Aren’t you a paladin now?” Cyrus asked Terian, feeling once more as though he’d been turned in a circle quite rapidly.
“Paladins protect other people; it’s our highest law. Aren’t you facing enemies that set a trap for you using your former wife’s signature and then stole your sword right off your belt while your back was turned?” Terian asked, now serious. “These people are treacherous dogs and you’re not a paladin. You’re a man who’s surrounded by his enemies and is about to be run through on all sides. If you want to try and fight them fair without Praelior, you can do that.” He shook his head. “But I wouldn’t bet on your survival, and neither would anyone else. You need to be the General again, the one who valued his army’s lives so much he never got in a fight unless he had six tricks up his sleeve.”
“Assuming I—” Cyrus quit his question right in the middle of it, running his gauntleted fingers over his forehead and coming back with their tips moist. “I don’t know how I would even approach this, assuming I bought into your conceit about an unfair fight.”
“How would you have approached it when you were in the Society?” Terian asked, once more looking especially sly. “This is a fight for survival, Cyrus. They started it. They’ve wanted you dead all along, now they’ve just snapped it to highest priority. They will come at you with everything, and it’s not just you—it’s your guild, it’s the people you care about, it’s your allies—they’re going to come at us, in any part of Arkaria where the Leagues hold sway. You can meet them in honest battle if you want. I know you tried the more deceitful tack with the titans and didn’t like the taste of treachery, but these
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