by David Debord
Allyn glanced at him in surprise but did not argue.
“I understand, Highness. I’ll get to it immediately. By your leave?” Rayburn had scarcely risen from his chair when a sharp knock came at the door.
“Enter,” Larris said.
Theron, a sturdily-built veteran guardsman, opened the door. “Your Highness, Master Hierm Van Derin to see you. He isn’t exactly fit to be received, but he insists you will want to see him immediately.”
Larris’ heart pounded double-time. “He is correct. Send him in.”
Van Derin did look a mess. He was covered in trail dust from head to foot, and the dark pouches under his eyes said he sorely lacked sleep. “Your Highness.” He bowed deeply and his knees buckled. He would have fallen on his face had Allyn not caught him around the middle. “Sorry,” he said as Allyn half-carried him to a chair. “I fear I haven’t taken the best care of myself the past few days. Hair and Edrin are with me and they’re not in much better shape.”
“Send for food and water,” Larris said to Allyn. “And an herb woman,” he added. “I don’t trust the healers. Make sure the other two are cared for as well.” He turned back to Hierm. “Tell me everything. Is Lerryn alive?”
Hierm held up a trembling hand. “Time is of the essence. Unless a miracle has happened in the time since we set out for Archstone, you can expect a Kyrinian army to arrive here in a matter of days.”
“How...” Larris began, but Hierm spoke over him.
“They came from the northwest through farm country. Lerryn has theories about how they managed to slip through largely undetected, but that doesn’t matter now. What is important is that you prepare the city’s defenses.”
“The prince is alive, then?” Rayburn asked.
Hierm nodded. “He started out fighting bandits, deserters mostly. He managed to gather a decent-sized force of fighting men. He will do what he can to slow the Kyrinian advance, but slow it is all he will be able to do. It’s a large army. You’ll need every available soldier to man the walls.”
Larris sank into his chair. “We have no soldiers. My uncle took them from the city three days ago.” He pressed his fingertips to his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “What,” he asked, “are we going to do?”
Chapter 35
“That’s the jail.” Whitt pointed to a low stone building. Dim light flickered through the barred window on the front door. He turned to Oskar. “Are you sure about this?”
Oskar shook his head though hidden as they were in the darkness he doubted they could see him. “Not at all, but I have to get Lizzie out of there.”
“What’s your plan?” Naseeb asked.
“I’m going to blast the door open, find her, and escape. I need you two to cover my back while I do it.” He bit his lip, wondering what dangers he might face one he got inside. Were many jailers on duty? If so, what would he do? He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but they might force his hand.
Whitt’s jaw dropped. “That is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Every idea is better than that idea. I thought you knew what you were doing.”
“Seriously,” Naseeb said. “We’d never have left our room if we’d known what you had in mind. Even if you succeed, you’ll be turned out for certain.”
“He’s right,” Dacio said. “We need to think about this.”
“Quiet.” Naseeb raised his hand. “I see Agen. He’s coming this way.”
Sure enough, Agen was approaching from the opposite direction. The tall youth was trying to keep to the shadows and failing miserably. Oskar and his friends exchanged looks. There was no need to ask why Agen was there. Apparently, he had heard about Lizzie and hoped to catch Oskar outside the city without permission.
As Oskar watched his nemesis approach, he was struck by an idea. He hastily whispered instructions to his friends, who nodded and smiled.
They all trained their eyes on Agen and Naseeb began to whisper the incantation for somnus, a spell that made its target drowsy. So far, he alone among their class had developed an aptitude for it. Soon, Agen began to blink and rub his eyes. The spell was taking effect. He stumbled forward until he was no more than twenty paces from their hiding place.
Oskar joined in with a spell called caligo, which created a cloud of mist around Agen. As soon as Agen was shrouded in fog, Whitt sprang from their hiding place. He covered the intervening space quickly and silently, slipped up behind Agen, and clubbed him across the back of the head. Agen wobbled and his knees buckled, but Whitt caught him and dragged him into the alley where the others waited.
Oskar turned to Naseeb. “We need ale. Quickly, before he wakes.”
Naseeb held out his hand. “Coin?” Seeing the expression on Oskar’s face, he winked and hurried away, returning in short order with a mug of ale. “I had to pay for the mug too. You owe me.”
“Fine.” Oskar took the mug and sloshed the ale all over the front of Agen’s robes, and then poured the rest down the young man’s throat. Agen gasped and began to choke. Whitt rolled him onto his side and pounded him on the back until Agen’s coughing fit subsided.
“You three hide,” Whitt said. “I know what to do.” The powerful young man hauled Agen to his feet, slipped an arm around his waist, and began singing loudly. Moments later the door to the jail opened and a skinny man with a sour face peered out.
“What’s with all the noise?” he snarled.
“Sorry,” Whitt said. “I tried to quiet him down, but he’s not himself.”
“It’s late,” the jailer said flatly.
“I know. I’m just trying to get him back to the Gates. I mean, the city gates.”
“The Gates, you say?” The jailer’s brow furrowed. “Come here.”
“Please, your Honor,” Whitt said. “He got some bad news today and went out on his own. My friends and I have been looking for him all evening.”
Agen began to stir a little. “Where am I?” he mumbled.
The jailer stepped out into the street and hurried toward Whitt and Agen.
As soon as the man reached the middle of the road, Naseeb dashed to the door and slipped inside.
“You two are too young to be seekers, and I know the rules as well as you do,” the jailer said. “I’m required to report this to your masters.” He stopped in front of the two young men and sniffed the air. “He reeks of ale, but you seem to be all right.”
“He’s never done anything like this before. I’m just trying to get him back so he can sleep it off. Isn’t there anything you can do?” Whitt asked.
The constable hesitated. “There’s nothing I can do for your friend. I’ll let you go this time, but I’ll need your name.”
“It’s Shaw,” Whitt said, providing the name of one of Agen’s closest friends.
“All right. Help me get him inside and then you can go.” The jailer and Whitt dragged Agen toward the front door.
Oskar watched, heart racing. Naseeb, the quickest of their group and easily the best at hiding, had gone inside to assess the situation, and with luck, find Lizzie. But even if he managed to find her and get her free, they’d never slip past the jailer now. Oskar might have to resort to main force after all. He was about to step out from his hiding place when Naseeb appeared in the doorway.
“Who are you?” the jailer barked.
“His friend.” Naseeb pointed at Agen. “We’ve been looking for him, but I see you’ve found him.”
“I found him and I’m keeping him. I’ll send word to the Gates and let the masters send someone for him. Now the two of you get out of here before I decide to detain you as well.” The jailer hauled Agen through the door and closed it behind him.
Naseeb, grinning, hurried over to Oskar.
“Did you see her?” Oskar demanded.
Naseeb nodded. “Just wait.”
A few minutes later, the door opened again and Lizzie walked out, followed by a tall, oily-looking man with a shaved head.
Oskar couldn’t contain his surprise. “Lizzie!” he called.
She turned around, spotted him, and broke into a grin. “Give me a minute,” she said to the tall man, who glanced at Oskar and smirked. She hurried over and took his hands in hers. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going to try and break you out.” He felt his cheeks warm as he said it.
She smiled. “That’s sweet, but there was no need. We have an understanding with the constabulary. I’ll have to repay the guild for the bribe, but I’ll be fine.”
Oskar didn’t know what to make of this bit of information, but Lizzie only laughed at his confusion.
“I’ll explain later. I have to make my apologies to the guild. I’ll meet you tomorrow night.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried away.
Whitt gazed admiringly at her receding form. “That,” he said, “is some girl you’ve got.”
Chapter 36
“It’s a slaughter down there!” Kelvin loosed another arrow into the confused ranks of Kyrinians who struggled to fight their way up the steep sides of the pass. The bright sun shone down on the black-and-gold clad Kyrinians, and their cries filled the air on what would have otherwise been a beautiful day.
“Why don’t they run?”
“They have no choice but to press forward,” Lerryn said. “The bulk of their army is behind them. They can’t go back now.”
The attack had gone off just as he had planned. His forces had remained hidden while the Kyrinians sent advance scouts to probe the pass and had not attacked until the enemy was fully committed. The first riders had spurred their mounts forward and tried to make it through the pass, but the rain of projectiles fired and hurled down on them had brought every man down before he reached the other end. Of course, Lerryn’s men had a few surprises waiting for them on the other side, as well.
As the bodies began to pile up, the Kyrinians had no choice but to engage with the attackers. Their archers attempted to return fire, but few of their arrows found their marks. Meanwhile, the infantry tried to advance, but they fell before engaging with Lerryn’s troops.
“How long can we keep this up?” Kelvin asked.
“Until we run out of arrows. Or until they get enough men up the slopes to push us back. We’ll have to retreat before that happens, though.”
“Oh.” Kelvin sounded disappointed. “I sort of hoped they’d just keep riding through the pass and we’d keep shooting them down.”
Lerryn laughed. “If only it were that easy.” The Kyrinian’s numbers would soon prove too much for his force, but he was making them bleed, as he had planned. He watched as his forces repulsed another charge, but another line formed almost immediately and charged again. Each attack made it a little farther up the hill. Lerryn’s forces were already running low on arrows, and now his men were choosing their targets carefully, reluctant to waste a shot. Gradually, they gave ground.
“That didn’t last long.” Kelvin was proving to be an astute pupil. “I suppose I should get ready?” At Lerryn’s nod, he took out the battered war horn he’d taken off a dead Kyrinian weeks before, pressed it to his lips, and waited.
Lerryn watched, knowing he had to time this exactly right. He needed the Kyrinian attacks on both sides of the pass to ebb at the same time, giving his own troops the chance to disengage and get clear of what came next.
“Now!” he shouted.
Kelvin blew two long, loud blasts. All along the pass, their forces unleashed a final torrent of arrows, spears, and rocks and then turned and retreated to the top of the pass. Seeing their enemy in full retreat, a cheer went up among the Kyrinians. They rallied and began to climb the steep hills en masse. Behind them, troops continued to pour into the pass.
“Wait until they’ve almost reached the top,” Lerryn whispered to himself. “Now!”
A single sharp blast from the horn, and then an odd moment of almost quiet fell across the battlefield as the Kyrinians looked for an attack that did not come.
And then a deep, hollow rumbling filled the air. Up and down the battle lines, Lerryn’s men tipped boulders over the edge and sent them tumbling down onto the surprised Kyrinians. Confused shouts rang out as men turned and tried to flee downhill, only to run into line after line of their own men who were intent on driving forward.
The boulders did their grisly work, crushing every man who stood in the way.
“Again!” Lerryn shouted.
Kelvin blew his horn, and rows of archers armed with flaming arrows stood and fired down into piles of dry shrubs, grass, leaves, and sticks Lerryn’s men had planted all over the hillsides. In a matter of minutes, the entire pass was filled with thick white smoke as the gentle breeze that flowed through drew the smoke like a chimney. The Kyrinians would find it hard to see and even harder to breathe.
At Lerryn’s command, Kelvin sounded the retreat. As they rode away, Lerryn managed a smile. The attack had gone as well as he could have hoped. They’d dealt a blow to the enemy’s morale and reduced their numbers in the bargain.
“Are you sure they won’t come after us?” Kelvin shouted.
“No.” He supposed it was possible the Kyrinians might pursue them, but that would be a victory in itself. They’d have to divide their forces and spread out across the countryside in order to chase down Lerryn’s forces. “I wish they would, but I fear they’ll keep straight on until they reach Archstone.”
The sun was an orange ball on the horizon when they met up with Tabars and the squad of cavalry he now commanded. Lerryn could tell by the look on his old comrade’s face that something was wrong.
“What is it?” he asked as soon as he reined in at Tabars’ side.
“We routed them. The enemy is in full retreat.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Kelvin asked.
Lerryn shook his head. “It’s not good; it’s impossible.”
“They tricked us. Somehow they knew we were here, and they sent in just enough men to convince us the army was coming through the pass. Their main force now has at least a day’s march on us, perhaps more.”
Lerryn took a deep, calming breath. The Kyrinians had sacrificed at least a thousand men just to gain a march on him. His only hope had been to slow the enemy down in order to buy time for Larris to prepare Archstone’s defenses.
He had failed.
Chapter 37
Oskar sighed and turned another page. He flipped hastily through the book, scanning the words but not digesting them. He knew what he was looking for, but had not found it yet.
Since being raised to initiate, he had spent as much of his limited free time as possible in the archives. He would have liked to have spent more, but it wouldn’t do to fall behind in his studies immediately after being raised. Especially since Basilius had not supported him. He would do everything in his power to prove the man wrong. Then again, the proctor’s objections to his candidacy had more to do with his connection to Aspin than to any reservations about Oskar as an initiate. Of that he was sure.
He closed the book, set it aside, and picked up another. He had given up searching through volumes of history and now focused on prophecy. It seemed, though, that the weapon was not the subject of a great deal of prophetic lore. He had read and reread what he could find, but it all was familiar to him. For the first time, he considered that he might fail at the task Aspin had set him.
This new book was useless. It was written by a tribesman who lived in the mountains of Riza. Written in verse, it spoke of thieves, princes, and murder. It might have made for an interesting read, but it was not what he needed right now. He set it aside and picked up the last of the books he’d taken from the shelves: a tiny volume the size of his hand. It’s cracked leather cover and yellowed, brittle pages spoke of age. It looked promising, but the spidery script was difficult to read. It would take some time to work his way through it.
“There you are. How did I know I’d find you in the darkest corner of this place?” Dacio pulle
d up a chair and sat down beside him. “We should go somewhere else and talk.”
Oskar turned and frowned at his friend, whose face was pale. Dacio’s eyes darted to and fro and he tapped his foot with nervous energy.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have something to tell you and I don’t want Agen to hear.”
“Is he around? I’m surprised they let him out of the kitchens.” Oskar grinned. Since his arrest, Agen had been scrubbing pots as a punishment.
“I saw him when I came in. He greeted me in the usual way.” Dacio made an obscene gesture and Oskar laughed. “This is important and I don’t want to be overheard.”
Oskar stood and looked around. No one was in sight. “Just tell me now and say it quietly. We only have a few minutes until mealtime.”
Dacio hesitated. “All right. I’ve been working on translating your glyphs. The rubbings you made captured only bits and pieces of writing. The first one I translated is incomplete, but it paints a compelling picture. I came looking for you as soon as I finished this bit.” He drew a rolled parchment from within his robe and handed it to Oskar.
Oskar looked around again to make sure no one was watching and then opened it. He began to read, slowly at first and then faster.
like a curse upon the nations
feared the world would be torn apart.
gathered in the holy place
I freely give my life
surrendered her life upon the blade
the temple shook as Vesala was drawn into
by the power of ultimate sacrifice
Oskar’s blood turned to ice. Hands trembling, he rolled the parchment up and looked at Dacio. Now he understood why his friend appeared shaken.
“I have not yet translated the other pages, but at a glance it looks like the same story was written over and over on the walls of the city you visited. They aren’t all exactly the same so if I translate them all I might be able to piece most of it together.” From the look on his face that was the last thing Dacio wanted to do.
“Please do.” Oskar’s throat was tight and he could barely speak. “But I think we both know what you will find.”