“The gates!” cried a familiar voice almost beside him. “The gates are opening!”
Darius glanced back to see Adella standing by him without any sign of weakness, her sword drawn and ready, but even as he wondered at her miraculous recovery, he saw the last remnants of blood steaming off of the silver blade and a small gleam of red in the woman’s eyes. But there was no time to do more than look. Adella was right. The gates were opening, supplying a narrow path to life.
“Steady!” Darius cried as some of the Norealmers broke and ran for the open gate, and fortunately, enough of the warriors stood firm to keep the Northings off balance. But the sight of the open gate and the retreat of their enemies gave sudden heart to the barbarians, and they surged forward in turn, intent on keeping their quarry from escaping. A torrent of arrows from the wall rained down of the front ranks, giving the defenders their chance.
“Fall back!” shouted Darius, keeping his face to the enemy. “Steady there! Fall back to the gates!”
More warriors broke and fled, leaving an ever thinner line to face the Northings, but there came a brave roar from many voices behind them as a force sallied forth to cover their retreat. Their one chance was now upon them.
“Run for the gates!” Darius cried, giving the remaining men leave, for no sooner had the great portals opened to their fullest point than they began the slow process of closing again. More arrows slashed into the closing enemy, keeping them at bay, and the covering force had no sooner deployed than they began to withdraw as well, the enemy showing no stomach to face these fresh spears.
Nearly everyone was safely back within the wall, Darius and barely a handful of warriors still outside the nearly shut gate when it happened. A beam of yellow light shot out from a nearby building and struck the giant gates, and the hearts of every Southlander froze as the doors ground to a halt, leaving a gap three men wide.
An opening spell, groaned Darius. Even a minor mage could cast such an enchantment, and this one had been conjured with enough skill to counter the physical closure of the gates. It could not last long. It did not have to. The barbarians needed only a few heartbeats to be through the opening and into the Third Tier.
There was a mad scream from the massed Northings, and they charged the gaping gate before it could close farther, the fate of the city hanging on those hinges. A volley of arrows from above answered them, but it bought only an additional moment of life. Darius stood to his full height and raised Sarinian over his head, the sword entering into the yellow beam of power that held the portals, and there was an explosion of white light that eclipsed the yellow ray.
And the gates began to close again.
A second and a third blast of sickly yellow power came from other locations, slowing the doors again, but Sarinian met both of them, the magics no match for Sarinian’s purity. Darius stood firm, sword ready, watching for another spell, heedless of the Northings nearly upon him, and he waited until the exact last moment before the gates closed before stepping inside. There was a sudden whooshing sound from outside the gate followed by screams of agony, and a trace of fiery liquid slopped under the gate, a hint of the inferno unleashed against the invaders which he had so narrowly escaped.
“Well done, Paladin!” came a call from above, and he looked up to see Brillis staring down at him. “But you came close to taking a flaming bath along with the Northings!”
Darius slowly slid Sarinian back into its scabbard, noting the presence of both Mandrik and Thrandar by the woman’s side.
He smiled slightly and half-bowed. “Your timing was perfect, Lady. A strong heart, a steady hand, and an ear that heeds counsel. Those bode well for the safety of the Drift!”
The smallest smile creased the woman’s face, and she nodded once in answer.
*
“That shall be a lesson for others who think to speak to me with words of failure and defeat on their lips,” growled Regnar, looking down at the unrecognizable lump of charred remains that moments before had been Ilixiel, War Chieftain of the Korgus Tribe.
That is the third general you have reduced to ashes, observed the Ohric impassively. Even the dullest among them would have learned that lesson by now.
“I shall break the gates of the Third Wall myself,” growled the Tyrant. “I shall blow them from their hinges and send them flying backwards through the horde of defenders as I did with the keep at Nargost Castle. Then the goblins shall feast on dying flesh, and the path to the Southlands shall be clear.”
The Dragons are gathered beneath the wings of Mraxdavar himself, the Ohric reminded him. They are in league with this human wizard, and their power may well sustain the gates despite our efforts. It would not do to have the armies see their magics prevail over us.
“But we dare not loiter,” Regnar replied. “The power of the Juggernaut is now lost to us. Worse, when word reaches the vassal armies of the release of the hostages, they will march against our rear and crush us between two walls.”
Time, still, may be our ally, the haunting voice of the scepter continued. The leadership of the Council has passed to Argus, and that means dissension is already breaking their ranks. The Dragons have no love for humans, and their service is not endless. And finally, the Cocoon of the Juggernaut now stands before the Third Wall of the Drift. Whatever form it assumes, the Drift shall bear the full brunt of its new power.
Regnar scowled, the thought of even a short period of inaction repugnant to him. “How long must we wait, think you?”
The cocoon should last for a full week, but you have driven the Juggernaut far beyond its appointed transformation time. The power so long held back is now accelerating, but it has also mutated. The new being will emerge not as it was originally intended. No one can predict the course it will then take.
Regnar frowned in annoyance. Was the scepter actually gloating over these last words? He snarled and demanded again, “How long before it comes forth, I say!”
Perhaps three days. Perhaps four. It is impossible to be certain.
“I shall hold my hand for two days. That will give our forces time to rest and prepare. On the third day, I shall break the cocoon of the Juggernaut myself and destroy all that live within the Drift of Jalan!”
*
Darius had no more time to spare for the defense of the gates. Adella was nowhere to be found, and he hurried down the main avenue, turning this way and that, hoping to catch a sight of her. Finally, he spotted his quarry moving swiftly through the edge of the throng of people that choked the street. The sight of her was a relief in many ways. If Adella had not wished to be found, she would have been long gone by now. He hurried forward, heading her off. But as he put out a hand to restrain her, she slapped it fiercely away, her eyes a warning.
“I have no further business with you, Paladin,” she snarled softly. “Be off with you!”
“There is much of which we must speak,” he answered calmly. “We…”
“You mean there is much you would have me speak,” she shot back. “There is no matching value in your words.”
Darius couldn’t help but smile. “That is as true as ever. Yet we usually find a basis for our conversations.”
“Such as your daughter?”
Darius nodded. “Yes. I am the most anxious for words concerning her.”
“Your anxiety is well founded,” Adella answered, starting to leave.
“I believe I am already in your debt for the care you have taken of her,” he said, trying to forestall her departure.
“I kept her with me as a walking bag of blood to feed my hungry sword at need,” she said savagely, turning back to him. “A trusting lamb ever running after the waiting butcher.”
Darius winced, then steadied. “You have a vicious tongue, Thief. Far worse, I hear an echo of truth in your words. But I know your heart and my Daughter’s soul. Whatever your first intent, you did not plunge down among the goblin undead to save only a sacrifice for your sword. Now come. Where is Shannon?”
&nbs
p; The woman bristled. “Know my heart? You’ll find a black abyss that will swallow you whole, you self-righteous, pig-headed, son of a…”
Darius held up a hand to forestall any further words, and said softly, “Peace, Adella.” He took a half-step closer, his voice now soft with honest meaning. “I, too, feel a need to pull back from the threshold we came close to crossing when your life was ebbing among the goblin corpses. But that boundary is already re-established. There is no need to push me further off.”
She turned sharply away, slapped by his words, and her mouth worked back and forth as if chewing on various responses, not liking any of their flavors. She was looking off to the side as she said, “You jumped, didn’t you?”
“Jumped?”
“Off the wall. Down onto the goblins. In Sherman’s Alley.” The words were jagged as if broken from her.
Darius shrugged. “There was no time to do anything else.”
“A plunge I wouldn’t have made in leather armor, you made in full plate.”
“You had conveniently gathered the goblins together, and they broke my fall,” he answered. “My armor actually helped to protect me.”
“Landing on the wrong side of the wall, among 10,000 enemies, while Brillis barred the gates behind you.”
“To save the woman who saved my Daughter,” he said simply. “But more. To save…a friend.”
She jerked as if stabbed by the word. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned back to him. “I sent them through a passage down into the central sewers. I taught her the guild codes scribed into the walls, and they’ll lead her safely into the Third Tier if she is sharp and steady.”
“The sewers?” Darius repeated, his face showing a father’s concern. “Come now. Where is my Daughter?”
Adella let out a small sigh and relented. “I will take you to her.”
*
The reunion of Shannon and Darius was sweet and bitter at one and the same time. He followed Adella down a bewildering labyrinth of twisted alleys, the woman walking with the ease of a housewife moving through her home, and twice, Darius had to step out quickly or he would have missed her disappearing around another sudden corner. And this is when she wants to be followed, Darius reminded himself glumly.
They arrived at a nondescript door that looked like any of the hundreds they had already passed, and Adella knocked once, then slipped some kind of tool into the lock and gently opened the door. Inside were two rough looking men, with Jhan, and with Shannon.
“Father!” she cried rushing across the room at him, and he was momentarily stunned to see this grown woman with his daughter’s face leaping into his arms. But his heart assured him this was indeed Shannon.
Despite himself, Darius laughed outloud as he held the girl and cursed the plate armor that prevented him from giving her the hug he longed to bestow. He twirled her around and set her down again, looking her over with a critical eye. She was the same height as ever, he realized, and yet…and yet she seemed to have grown.
“Are you alright?” he asked, even though he could actually see the health and energy filling her.
“We’re both fine,” she assured him. “We’ve come so far to find you. To find you here at last!”
Darius stifled down the emotions that threatened to master him and forced himself back to the cold reality of the situation. They were in a breached city with tens of thousands of enemies battering at the gates, he reminded himself. I have to get her out of here.
“We have precious little time,” he said. “The Silver Horde will tire soon enough of sacking the first two tiers of the city, and the poor booty will only whet their appetite for richer plunder. My presence is needed now more than ever.”
“Your presence is required by the executioner, from what I hear,” replied Adella. “A condemned prisoner, a jail-breaker, and a fugitive. If you’re going back, at least let me turn you in. Someone should collect that rich bounty they’ve placed on your ass.”
Shannon’s jaw dropped. “Father, is this true?”
“I’m not sure as to the bounty, but the rest is true enough,” he said. “The charges will pursue me, but the Drift is independent of the Southlands and not formally bound by their edicts. I suspect no action will be taken until the city is safe again. When Andros bore me to the city’s gates, I was cheered and feted by guards and people alike. It is a cruel joke that my life seems the safest when we are at war. But come now and tell me your tale. I have heard only pieces and none with detail.”
Darius sat back as the two youngsters eagerly told him their story, starting from the passage through Decision Rock in the Greenwood to their meetings in Alston’s Fey and the ride on the back of a pegasus to Llan Praetor and the meeting with Adella. Darius said nothing as they detailed their travels through the empty castle and their discovery of the flying boat, though his eyes met Adella’s on more than one occasion and silent messages were exchanged. His eyes rose, however, as they detailed their meeting with Zarif and the Dead of the Plains and their subsequent attack on Nargost Castle and the freeing of the hostages. Their tale ended with the battle for the second tier of the city, and their escape through the sewers where they were met by “friends of Adella” who whisked them to this place.
Darius sat for a long time and struggled to keep his features composed, for there was more in their tales than they had told and even more than they knew. He saw a hand at work upon his daughter, a hand he knew so well, and the implications chilled his heart. As their story came to an end, he straightened up and forced a brave smile on his lips.
“I cannot approve of your decision to defy me,” he began firmly, “but neither can I condemn the courage of a true heart. You have rendered a great service to the Southlands, and it may be that your actions will tilt the balance and bring us victory in the end. But you have done all that you may, and your part here is now done. The defense of the Drift is not part of your task.”
“You’re sending me away?” asked Shannon, unable to believe the words. “You can’t mean it, Father!”
“Shannon…”
“I can fight as well as any of the soldiers who now man the city’s walls and better than most,” she shot back. “I’ve passed every test set before me, and I’ve learned so much in the process. I’ve earned the right to defend the city!”
“She has grown indeed, My Lord,” said Jhan cautiously. “It is not easy for me to say, but I began defending her, and it is now she who defends me.”
“She’s a warrior now, Paladin,” Adella said simply, and they all knew that was not a title she bestowed lightly. “Trained and blooded. We’ll have need of every sword before this tide is turned.”
But Darius shook his head. “Your place is not here defending the city. On this, you will heed me.”
“I’m no longer the child you left behind in the Greenwood, Father,” she said defiantly. “I have traveled many leagues in both body and in spirit, and while I followed you, I came to learn it was not you I was seeking. I heard a call, and…”
“No!!!” he roared and everyone was staggered by the sudden ferocity of his response. He leapt from the chair as if facing an enemy, and he had to take a firm grip on himself, his breathing heavy. “No. Speak no words of calling to me. You are my daughter, and I require you now to heed me!”
Shannon was staring at him with a look that crushed his heart. It wasn’t angry or even defiant, but a look of cool detachment that told him his wishes were no longer her sole priority. It wasn’t the independence that crushed him; indeed, some part of his soul was rejoicing at the strength his child was showing. No. Rather it was the burden she was now so willing to shoulder.
Bilan-Ra, he swore silently to his mentor. You may have me, but you shall not have my Daughter.
“I will not return to the Greenwood,” Shannon told him quietly, and her tone brooked no argument. “My place is no longer there, and I would break an oath my heart has made if I were to return.”
Darius took a huge breath and se
ttled himself down. Shannon’s very life might now depend on his words and tone.
“I have neither the time nor the inkling to enforce my authority as your father,” he said sternly. “But I shall warn as one who knows all too well the calling of which you speak. You have not completed the quest on which you embarked. You undertook the deliverance of the hostages in order to turn the states of the Plains against Regnar, but that task is only half achieved. The hostages linger in the Southlands, no closer to their homes than when they were prisoners in Nargost, and you abandon both them and your quest to chase the glory of combat.”
Shannon frowned, confused. “But…I have no power to return them to their homes.”
“Nor do any at Maganhall, and so no effort is made,” he replied. “It is you who drew them to freedom against all odds, and it is now you who must find a means to finish this endeavor. We have fought to a bitter draw here at the Drift, and now pressure must be found to break the impasse. That pressure can only come from a rising of the Plains’ States. Only the safe return of the hostages to their homes will do that, and it is you who undertook that quest. You must not abandon it half-finished.”
There was silence as Shannon stared hard at her Father, trying and failing to read him.
Finally, Jhan said slowly, “It is true that hope has ever been our guide in this mission. I think it a mistake to abandon it now.”
“I won’t abandon you,” Shannon said softly, speaking past all the arguments, her heart addressing his.
Darius swallowed hard before saying, “I will give you this pledge. While you are safely outside the walls of this city, I shall not fight to the death to defend it. Attend to the hostages, and you will serve your quest and save both our lives.”
Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) Page 29