Siege of Stone

by Terry Goodkind

  Hoping she would have better luck if she spread the word around the harbor, Nicci made her way along the piers where sailors lounged about, waiting near their ships. Some whittled scraps of wood or kraken-horn ivory. Three deeply tanned and unshaven sailors passed around a bottle of wine. She showed many others her pane of glass, talking to merchant captains, kraken hunters, fishermen. To little use.

  She came upon four shirtless, arrogant young men who lounged on a pile of sailcloth as if someone had placed it there for their bed. By the strings of tattoos across their chests, she recognized them to be wishpearl divers. The similar divers she had met aboard the Wavewalker were unpleasant, self-important men who refused to do work aboard the ship. They had poisoned her, diminished her powers, tried to rape her. They hadn’t succeeded. When the selka killed all of them, Nicci had not grieved.

  She regarded the divers with a scowl as they roused themselves, curious about her attention. She asked, “If Serrimundi were under attack from an enemy force, would you lift a hand to defend it? Or are you as worthless as the other wishpearl divers I’ve met?”

  Angrily, the four shirtless men climbed to their feet and sneered at her. One man said, “I might lift a finger if you came to my bed.”

  “Then I might lift a finger to crush all of your bones into little pieces,” she said. “Mark my words, the threat is coming, an army that could destroy this city.”

  “What army?” asked one of the other divers. “We’ve heard of no army.”

  “I am telling you so you can prepare, if you know how to fight.”

  “We know how to swim,” said one of the divers, chuckling.

  None of them took her seriously. She showed them Elsa’s image on the glass, which they found interesting, but unconvincing. “That is an army in the mountains. We have no mountains here.”

  “Armies can cross mountains,” Nicci said. “They are on the move.”

  “If they are far away, then I’m not worried yet,” said one diver.

  “I don’t even believe there is an army,” said another, squinting closer at the preserved pane. “It’s just a trick. There is magic in that glass. She could be showing us anything.”

  “Heh, I know something I’d like her to show me,” said the lecherous diver.

  Nicci was of a mind to burst his testicles right there, which would certainly gain his attention, but she hadn’t expected to earn any support from wishpearl divers in the first place, and they didn’t disappoint her. After a long day she had hoped to rouse the people of Serrimundi, though she knew it would be a more difficult task than convincing General Linden and the D’Haran garrison. These people did not know her. Not yet.

  As the wishpearl divers laughed, mocking her story about the great army, she heard shouts raised across the harbor. A lookout on the Mist Maiden’s tall mast was casting dried bread to screaming gulls, but he suddenly dropped his basket and began hollering at the top of his lungs. Around the harbor, other ships picked up the alarm. Loud ship’s bells rang.

  Beyond the rocky promontory at the mouth of the harbor, Nicci saw smoke in the sky. A ship was sailing into the harbor, engulfed in flames. It bobbed and yawed without guidance, its sails ablaze, a krakener riding low in the water. She saw several sailors dive overboard. Two of them were caught in the current and swept up against the outcropping beneath the carving of the Sea Mother. The burning ship continued to drift into the crowded harbor.

  “Ship on fire, ship on fire!” The outcries spread among the vessels. The krakener listed to one side as the flames grew more intense. Harbor workers scrambled about, afraid that the fire would spread to other vessels. Several fishing boats rapidly set sail away from the docks to get clear. The krakener took on water as it began to sink near the mouth of the harbor.

  Nicci shaded her eyes, wondering what could have set the ship ablaze. It was like a warning torch thrown at the city of Serrimundi. Soon enough, she had her answer. They all did.

  With midnight-blue sails fully stretched and line after line of oars extended, a Norukai serpent ship cruised around the promontory, coming in from the sea and entering Serrimundi Harbor, following the krakener they had set ablaze.

  Behind the first Norukai serpent ship came another, and another, a line of ten raiders. Frantic shouts roared among the dockworkers, and the harbor bells clanged. Nicci had never seen so many Norukai ships, and they were coming to invade Serrimundi.

  This was not the army she had warned them about, but it was a threat just as deadly.

  CHAPTER 73

  The mists on the wide river did not obscure the cold, miserable morning. Rain fell gently on the decks of the Norukai ships, and King Grieve stood in the open in his sharkskin vest, his massive bare arms slick from the rain. He stared ahead as if he could penetrate the fog with the power of his gaze, but he saw only the gray shadows of tangled trees on the nearer shore.

  The treacherous swamps had gone on for miles as the Norukai fleet sailed upriver. The opposite shore was lost in the gloom and rain. In places, the Killraven River was so wide it seemed like the sea. Grieve didn’t like close banks and narrow shores, which made him feel confined.

  Water lapped against the hull of his serpent ship, and the dark sails stretched, pushed along by the directed breeze. Grieve wanted to increase their pace, so Norukai crewmen extended their oars and drove the fleet onward, like a slow sword thrust against the current.

  The fog muffled all sound. Drummers on each foredeck pounded out a steady rowing beat as the ominous vessels moved along. The rhythmic pounding would strike fear into any weak villagers huddled on the banks watching the ships pass.

  A large trout leaped up, startled by the passage of such immense vessels. Chalk pranced over, gripping the rail and lurching himself up on spindly arms. He peered over the edge, squirming, watching the ripples in the brown current. Grieve grabbed his bony shoulder and pulled him back so he wouldn’t fall overboard.

  “A fish, my Grieve, King Grieve! A king fish!” He grinned with lopsided lips on his pocked face. “Ildakar is a fish. We will catch it and gut it, and roast it over a fire.”

  “Yes, we will catch it and gut it,” Grieve said, “but we can’t destroy it, because it is mine. It will be the capital of my new empire.”

  “They’ll all grieve!” Chalk looked over the railing again, searching for more fish.

  Another trout leaped, and the pale shaman grinned, but a different form cruised through the water, unseen. A swamp dragon lunged, and its jaws snatched the trout. Holding the fish in its teeth, the reptile submerged and swam away with barely a ripple.

  The drumbeats continued, the long oars stroked, and the Norukai ships moved up the river.

  Mounted on a spike at the prow was the hideous head of the selka. The slimy creature had sagged, the rubbery skin falling slack along its cheekbones and jaws. The yellow eyes had turned to jelly, and the crew had repeatedly chased away ravens that tried to peck at the delicacy. The sea creatures would not bother them now that the Norukai ships were far up the Killraven River.

  Out in the ocean, the angry selka had followed the fleet, threatening, but unable to attack. The Norukai raiders had jeered and taunted them, throwing harpoons on ropes, trying to stab the outlying creatures, but missed. The selka followed them all the way to the estuary, raising their ugly heads above the water, hissing unintelligible curses. The Norukai responded by emptying the foul-smelling bilges into the water behind the ships.

  The rain had started on their third day moving upriver. The Norukai ships sailed past villages on the banks, small fishing and trading towns. Previously, Norukai slavers might stop and raid the weaker villages just to replace any walking meat that died during the voyage.

  This time, the fifty serpent ships were on a military conquest, not a mere raid, but Grieve’s fighters were restless. He allowed a few vessels to pull ashore and let the fighters slosh to the banks, where they could kill townspeople, set homes on fire, rape women, and leave a mark of terror. If King Grieve was go
ing to wrap the entire continent in his iron fist, he needed the people to fear him. But he wanted to get to Ildakar.

  Shivering, Chalk wrapped his scrawny arms around his bony chest. “Fire. I wish we had fire. So cold.”

  “I gave you a blanket,” Grieve said. “Wrap yourself in it.”

  “Fire. I want a fire. Like the big hearth in the Bastion.”

  “We can’t have a big fire on a ship. Use the blanket.”

  Chalk hunched down, and his teeth chattered loudly enough to be heard over the drumbeat the rowers used to keep time with their oars. “Cold. Ice. Snow.”

  Grieve felt sorry for his eccentric and stubborn friend. Chalk always seemed to be chilled, even on the main island. The shaman spent half his days near the roaring fire, but he chose to wear no more than a loincloth. He didn’t want to hide the countless bite marks that covered his skin, but he looked so miserable now.

  “You will have your fire in Ildakar,” Grieve said. “We can burn part of the city and that will keep you warm enough.” When Chalk didn’t answer, he nudged the shaman. “At least get out of the rain. Take shelter in the back cabin or belowdecks.”

  “Snow and ice,” Chalk moaned. “Everything so cold. The river frozen!”

  “It’s just rain. Soon the sun will come out.”

  Forgetting his physical discomfort, Chalk sprang to his feet again. “The sun will come out, my Grieve! Yes, late in the morning, and we will see Ildakar! Our fish, King Grieve. They’ll all grieve.”

  “They’ll all grieve.” He recognized the cockeyed intensity in Chalk’s expression. “Is that a dream?”

  “Yes, Ildakar. We are almost there, but the cold and ice…” Chalk shook his head and huddled around himself again, shivering. “And snow!”

  “You don’t even know snow,” Grieve said. “You have never seen it.”

  “Cold!” Chalk insisted.

  The drums pounded, and the oars sloshed in perfect coordination. The serpent ships glided past the swamps. Grieve had listened to Captain Kor’s report of the previous expedition to Ildakar, and he knew they were nearly at their destination.

  An hour later, the rain slackened and the mists grew more diffuse as weak yellow light burned through the river fog. Grieve hunched over the prow, sick of waiting, and stared into the brightening light. Chalk relished the faint sunshine.

  Finally, around midmorning, exactly as the shaman had predicted, the sun broke through, so the Norukai king could look ahead. He saw the sandstone cliffs, the uplift the ancient wizards had created. At last he saw with his own eyes the ancient city of Ildakar towering above the river, its white buildings and tall towers shining in the distance. The city alone was larger than the main Norukai island. Grieve’s fifty ships would be enough to conquer it, though. Of that he had no doubt.

  Chalk jabbed a bony finger at the sight. “They’ll all grieve. Our fish! They’ll all grieve.”

  The Norukai king touched the soft smelly head of the decomposing selka. He squeezed the oozing flesh of its cheeks and turned the creature so its runny eye sockets pointed toward the vulnerable city. “There,” he said, in a low voice, “I want you to see our next victory.”

  CHAPTER 74

  The expedition from Cliffwall pushed through the mountains, where the air was thinner and the cold air blew harder. Verna looked behind them, imagining the desert canyons they had left far behind, then turned in the direction of Ildakar. That was their destination, and she couldn’t wait to see all the wonders Renn had promised. By now, the road was more apparent, recently trampled by the large, half-stone expeditionary force that had marched away from the legendary city.

  On his warhorse, General Zimmer led the group. Oliver and Peretta made notes of their travels and exchanged stories with young Amber. The other scholars looked sore and dirty, tired of the long journey. None of them had ever left their isolated canyon before.

  Within days, the terrain transitioned to forested foothills, winding down to a watershed where streams provided all the drinking and bathing water they needed. They toiled up the next ridge, reaching the rounded top only to see another ridge ahead of them.

  Verna began to lose hope that they would ever find their destination, but Renn grew excited as they climbed the next line of hills. “This is it, I think. The plains of Ildakar are just ahead.” He inhaled deeply, as if the air smelled different to him. “It will be so good to be home.”

  Verna would be glad to see Nicci and Nathan again, to talk with them, and she would trust their assessment about Ildakar.

  “I smell smoke,” Oliver said as they worked their way through the trees. A drizzle had continued throughout the morning, and Verna was wet. Her gray-brown hair hung limply against her skull, and she tried not to look as miserable as she felt.

  “How can you smell anything in this?” Peretta asked.

  “I have always had a keen sense of smell.”

  General Zimmer and the scouts crested the ridge and rode out of the sparser pines. Ahead, they saw grass-covered hills and a broad open valley. Renn pushed forward to get a better view. “It’s Ildakar. That is the plain. That’s—”

  Zimmer raised a hand, commanding them to stay within the shelter of the trees. “We don’t want to be seen.”

  Verna, Amber, Peretta, and Oliver crowded forward. Renn stood with his arms at his side, his mouth open. “By the Keeper’s beard!”

  The grassy hills to the north of the great valley were scorched black. Out on the plain Verna saw a huge army, thousands upon thousands camped in rows with a few tents dispersed among the troops. The soldiers were moving, marching, forming precise groups, a military force vastly greater than the invasion army they had buried under the avalanche.

  “That looks as big as the entire population of Tanimura,” Amber said in a trembling voice.

  Verna looked beyond the countless warriors. Ildakar rose up like a beautiful island covered with tiers of buildings, layers of neighborhoods piled up to the summit of the plateau. It was indeed a magnificent city, and it was under siege.

  Tears leaked down Renn’s cheeks. “General Utros is awake. Look what they have done to Ildakar!” He shaded his eyes, scanning the high, protected upwelling of the city. “I can barely make out the top of the plateau in this drizzle. I see the ruling tower, but I can’t find the pyramid. It seems to be gone.”

  Peretta narrowed her dark eyes. “I see a pyramid, but it is broken. What did it look like before?”

  “Something happened in my city,” Renn said. “Something terrible. We’ve got to help. We need to fight for Ildakar.”

  The seven other Sisters of the Light gathered, waiting for the prelate to issue orders, but Verna wasn’t sure she had anything to offer. “We have several gifted with us. My Sisters and I can use some magic. You, Renn, are also a wizard, but this won’t be like creating the avalanche. Look at the size of that army.”

  “I have only a handful of soldiers,” said Zimmer. “What can we possibly do against an enemy force like that?”

  Renn groaned. “Ildakar is full of gifted men and women at least as powerful as I am. We have to figure out how to sneak through the walls, so I can rejoin the duma. They will need my help.”

  As Verna looked at the entrenched army that stood between them and the city, she had no answer for him.

  CHAPTER 75

  Elsa’s transference magic was ready, after several days of work. The huge painted rune covered the sheer side of the bluff above the river, and they were ready for their risky foray out to the encamped enemy army. “I cannot imagine or plan a greater release of energy,” she said. “After the dragon and the Ixax warriors, this might be the final blow that breaks them.”

  “If we all do our parts,” Nathan said.

  He saw tension on her face. Drawn lines chiseled her fine features, and the crow’s-feet had deepened around her eyes. He’d always admired her as a brave, determined, and talented woman. The transference magic she had developed during centuries of isolation in Ildakar was imp
ressive, and he had helped her create this marvelous and risky counterstrike. Elsa didn’t seem anxious or doubtful, but dread wrapped around her like a burial shroud.

  “It will succeed, my dear, and I will do everything I can to help you. Over the past two days we gathered a powerful force and they are well trained and well motivated to protect the six strike forces. We have to be swift and focused. They all know what to do to help you, and they all know what is at stake.” He smiled. “We’re ready to move.”

  Elsa reached out to squeeze his hand. “Truly, it would not have been the same without you, Nathan. I’m glad you will be by my side for this.”

  “Be brave. Dear spirits, we will do what we need to do.” He stroked his chin and frowned. “Are you certain you don’t want to wait for Nicci to return? The sorceress is more powerful than any of us.”

  “No,” Elsa said abruptly. “We don’t know when she might come back, and we are ready. The rune is painted. The six teams are armed and trained.” She straightened, but still seemed edgy. “It has to be now. I’ve made up my mind.”

  Nathan squeezed her hand in response. “I understand. We can be just as impressive without Nicci.”

  Today, Bannon and Lila were preoccupied on the bluff, adding finishing touches to the enormous transference rune, though the giant design had been completed the night before. Nathan had sent Bannon, tasking him with guaranteeing that every detail was correct. That would keep the young man away from their desperate charge, though he would not like it. It was very possible the fighters and protectors would not survive the desperate ride, and Nathan knew this last battle against Utros would be decided by magic. More than enough fighters would guard the separate gifted parties assigned to scribe the proper boundary runes.

  Under gray skies, he and Elsa hurried along the wet streets toward the long wall where the separate strike forces were gathering. The horses were saddled, the fighters wearing their armor and holding swords and iron-tipped clubs. It would be another surprise operation, but unlike the first testing foray, this one had a clear goal. Elsa’s transference magic would do the bulk of the work, provided that the gifted designates completed their runes on the battlefield.