‘What do I give up?’ asked Pug.
‘Freedom,’ said Gathis. ‘You will find you need to do things without understanding exactly why. Macros claimed he could see the future, and that was partially true, but part of that claim was theatrics, the showmanship of a vain man attempting to make everyone think he was far more than he really was. It’s ironic, for he was more powerful than any man I’ve met, until I met you. Master Pug. But even the most powerful among your race has flaws, I have discovered over the centuries.
‘In any event, you will find your life is no longer your own.’
Pug said, ‘You offer a great deal, but you demand a great deal as well.’
‘Not I, Master Pug; he does.’ Gathis pointed to the statue of the god.
Miranda said, ‘How long does he have to think this over?’
‘As long as he needs,’ said Gathis. ‘The gods move along a stately course, in their own time, and the lives of mortals are but fleeting heartbeats to them.’
Pug said, ‘You’ve given me a great deal to think about. What happens if I say no?’
‘Then we will wait until another appears, one whose nature and powers are such that the god chooses him to assume the mantle of Sarig’s agent.’
Pug looked at Miranda and said, ‘Something else for us to discuss.’
She nodded.
Gathis said, ‘I will leave you alone. Perhaps the god himself will guide your thoughts. If you need anything, I will be back at the villa.’
The green-faced steward of the villa departed and Pug said, ‘What should I do?’
‘Be a god? Seems like a hard one to reject.’
Pug reached out and pulled her to him. As he held her close, he said, ‘It also seems like a hard one to accept.’
‘Well, we have time,’ said Miranda, hugging him back.
‘Do we?’ asked Pug as his mind turned to the question of the war.
Erik shouted orders as the battle reached a critical stage. For two days they had fought along the second barricade, suffering one breach which had taken every reserve at Erik’s disposal to close. He had successfully evaluated the demands for defending this position and had set up a schedule for rotating his soldiers in and out of the line, so that those who had fought longest could get some rest.
The wounded were being evacuated along with the support baggage to Darkmoor. Erik knew that it was only a matter of minutes before he would give the order to withdraw and he had to set the torch to his boyhood home.
He’d had moments of regret in anticipation of that act for months, since reviewing Calis’s original plan of battle, but at this point he was so exhausted he felt nothing. Perhaps that would change when he actually saw the Inn of the Pintail, the Growers’ and Vintners’ Hall, and all the other familiar landmarks of Ravensburg in flames, but right now all he was concerned with was an orderly withdrawal.
The enemy seemed limitless. By Erik’s rough calculation they had lost six thousand men at the two barricades, while he had lost fewer than fifteen hundred. But he knew that losses of four to one were acceptable to the Emerald Queen, while such a ratio was disastrous to the Kingdom. He needed to do better than six to one for the Kingdom to withstand the enemy.
Erik blocked a blow from a particularly muscular man with a war axe, then skewered him with a sword thrust. He stepped back from the battle, letting a soldier take his place. Glancing around, he judged it time to withdraw. By the time they reached Darkmoor, night would be falling. He moved far enough from the fighting so he need not have to worry about anything except possibly a stray arrow and signaled for runners. Four of them came to stand before him and saluted. He said, ‘Pass the word up and down the line. General withdrawal on my signal.’
The soldiers hurried off, and Erik saw the magician Robert d’Lyes hurrying toward him. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ the magician asked.
‘Thanks, but unless you have a way to get those bastards on the other side to withdraw for a few minutes, so we can get out of here safely, I think not.’
The magician said, ‘How many minutes?’
‘Ten, fifteen. More than that would be good, but in that time I can get the last of the wounded to the wagons and the rest of the mounted infantry in the saddle. The horse archers can hold the enemy at bay while the foot soldiers move out; if we can do that, we might all survive to fight in Darkmoor.’
Robert said, ‘I have an idea. I don’t know if it will work, but it might.’
‘We’re pulling out, so give it a try,’ said Erik.
‘How long before you give the order?’
‘Five more minutes,’ said Erik as he signaled for his horse.