Fate Defied: The Silent Tempest, Book 3

by E. J. Godwin

  At close range the Hodyn could not use their bows to their advantage. The old Raén’s Fetra swept in and out, one of many wielded by skilled hands, slaying every soldier it met. The Hodyn fought viciously, fury in their eyes, for this was their long-awaited and perhaps final chance for revenge. But Soren knew that anger often betrayed a soldier’s prowess, and the Hodyn fell by the dozen.

  “Lord Soren! Look to Krengliné!”

  He never learned who shouted those words. But when he finally got a chance to obey, his heart faltered.

  Far away, a thin line of red fire swept through the air above the Old Wall and vanished. Seconds later, just audible over the noise of war close at hand, a low sound like distant thunder trembled in his ears.

  Soren had heard the same many times over the last few weeks: stone splintering to the piercing fire of lasers. It was the sign he was waiting for, the sign he had dreaded. He could wait no longer. He sheathed his sword with a slap, and traded the weapon of Ada for the weapon of Earth.

  Other Raéni close by had forced a way past him, blocking his line of fire. “Stand free!” he shouted, and one after the other they either ran to one side or dropped to the ice, leaving the Master Raén to himself.

  The Hodyn, a short stone’s throw away, stared at the sudden empty space between. Thinking their foes had fled or cowered at the sight of distant laser fire, they plunged forward, shouting Dorgonan, Dorgonan, the name of their ancient city.

  Soren crouched low to wait for them. As the first man neared he squeezed the trigger. The Hodyn fell with his waist gaping wide, entrails spewing heavily onto the ice, steaming in the frigid air. A second soldier caught a fiery line across his forehead, shearing off the top of his skull. Soren had never quite gotten used to such bizarre technology, despite hours of practice, yet it needed little accuracy to be effective. Again and again the enemy soldiers charged, suddenly realizing the trap set for them, their frustration and wrath filling them until it was a madness. Soren shuddered at the carnage. Within minutes dozens of bodies lay in bloodied heaps on the ice and along the dam, until the last Hodyn slipped on the greased stone and tumbled down the slope before the Master Raén could fire upon him.

  With triumphant shouts a half dozen Raéni sprang after to finish him off. Others ran south along the stonework, dispatching any enemy survivors. They had won Sonién.

  “Lord Soren!” someone cried. “To your left!”

  He dropped to the snow at once, thinking it was another warning. But there was nothing beyond the dark piles of sundered flesh littering the ice. Bile rose to his throat at the stench. Then the soldier who had spoken walked past, reached down to what looked to be a dismembered arm, and returned to crouch in front of Soren.

  “There is hope yet,” said a woman’s voice. It was Edai, her sweat-drenched face glistening in the starlight. She brandished a laser in her bloodied hand. “Send me to the Old Wall,” she asked, a fierce eagerness in her voice. “Now I know what to aim for. They can’t use lasers without any hands!”

  Soren understood her need for absolution, to shed the blame she still felt for Heradnora’s theft at the armory. What else was left for her to do? Though he still resisted the Overseer’s grim assessment, the least he could give Edai—and every other Raén—was a chance to keep the Oath and end her life with honor.

  Another roll of thunder turned their heads to the east. “If you can get there in time,” he answered.

  15

  The Strength of Stone

  You don’t really know a person until the arrows fly.

  - Soren, 17th Master Raén of Ada

  CALEB STENGER, having seen the points of light along the dam and the approaching lines of torches beyond Krengliné, realized with a chill that he would soon be forced to kill by the hundreds. Dernetondé was a long time ago, an act of desperation. Now the faceless scribe who had written Telai’s message nagged at his conscience. He would not shirk his duty, no matter how unpleasant. But to slice through dozens of them at a time seemed more like the act of a murdering madman than a soldier.

  Because he was positioned near the South Gate, some time passed before Hené arrived on horse to apprise him of the situation. The first companies he sent to the dam had already reached far up the valley, and their faint torches from the vantage of the Old Wall crept along like glimmering sparks. Directly after, a soldier riding a horse at a reckless gallop atop Krengliné reminded them of Soren’s strict command about the lasers.

  By now many Hodyn had reached the gate nearby, and a score of them plunged forward with a battering ram to smash their way through. But the Adaiani would not allow it. Arrows fell like lashing rain, both from above and through the ironwork of the gate. The surviving Hodyn dropped the ram to the ground and fled.

  With the defense under control for now, Hené sped back to the North Gate. Soon afterward the Hodyn began raising tall ladders against the stone, and scores of Raéni archers took up positions along the wall to repel them.

  The swordsmen, including Caleb, stood behind as a second line of defense. Yet even without any archers the enemy might never have scaled such a height. The mightiest soldier could never throw a grappling hook so high, and it took the strength of several Hodyn to push on long poles, and at grave risk, to lift the towering ladders against the precipitous stone. Like at Sonién they had flung most of their torches aside, the flames sputtering out as they sank into the trampled snow. Yet the Hodyn suffered heavy losses, for the defenders had amassed a great store of arrows and could afford to shoot freely.

  The Hodyn soon abandoned this approach and revitalized their efforts to batter down the gate. Unhindered, they might have achieved it. Even beneath the relentless barrage of arrows they managed to strike twice, sending the harsh clang of iron echoing far and wide over the valley. Yet they caused more bedlam than harm, with dozens of men falling by the minute.

  Though the Hodyn were better archers, the high battlement foiled many of their shots. A few Raéni nearby asked Caleb if the enemy would ever bring out their lasers, but he cautioned them not to rely on false hopes. If Heradnora broke through Krengliné using conventional methods, reserving her mightier weapons for future conquests, all the better for her. Bodies dark against the snow lay everywhere, more proof, if any were needed, that the Hodyn were only pawns for her evil purpose, ultimately dispensable.

  As if on cue a sudden vibration ran under Caleb’s feet, almost too faint to detect. Shouts followed, some nearby, some off in the distance. Hodyn yelled and danced in the snow, pointing north, but in the rising confusion he could not tell what had caused the excitement.

  A red line of fire raced into the sky and vanished among the stars. Shortly after, a rumble shook the stone beneath their feet and rolled through the valley.

  Caleb’s hand paused at his side where the laser pistol rested in its holster. Though the wound in his arm still ached a little, his grip was strong enough for accuracy. He pictured Soren sheathing his sword, bringing out his laser without the slightest hesitation. With a burst of defiance and a muttered curse worthy of the Master Raén, he cast off his doubts and drew the weapon free.

  The Hodyn had abandoned the gate, running north to help defend those attempting to breach the wall. Caleb, as well as many others eager to join him, raced along the battlement in pursuit. The lack of torches made it hard to see anything until he was on top of it, and he kept bumping into heedless Raéni in his path. He stopped now and then to fire through the stone gaps at the hurrying throng, and managed to drop three or four Hodyn to the snow. Henceforth they changed tactics, spreading farther out from the wall and dodging in and out.

  It was a long run to the main assault, three miles and more. Several Raéni ran close behind, cheering at each fiery shot he swept through the enemy. He was grateful for their encouragement, but he cringed inside, feeling like a Roman executioner dispatching victims for an appreciative crowd.

  Another boom ran beneath Caleb’s feet, then another. He was halfway there. Though the stars
still shone brightly, the first hint of dawn drew a pale line in the east. At first he doubted his eyes; it seemed impossible that so much time had elapsed since the first attack at Sonién.

  “Caleb Stenger!” a voice cried. “Take cover!”

  There was no decision about it. He dropped against the battlement, bashing his right arm. The laser clattered away over the stone, and he scrambled after it with a curse.

  The next instant a splitting crash brought his hands to his ears. When he uncovered them to retrieve the laser, the wall shook with the rumble of falling stone. Shouts and screams followed. He sat against the parapet, recovering from the pain of his arm and the toil of his long run, his entire body drenched in sweat.

  Raéni leaped or stumbled over his outstretched legs. Just as he thought to move them out of the way, a thin shaft of red swept across the sky directly over his head.

  Another thunderous crash ripped through the air. “Caleb Stenger—your laser!”

  Most of the soldiers had taken cover, and it was difficult to locate the voice amidst all the bedlam and confusion. Yet he knew it was close, a woman’s voice, vaguely familiar. She repeated her urgent plea, triggering a vision of her face, or so he imagined: beautiful yet strong, with a mingling of both pride and regret. But her hair was blowing in the wind of a bright summer’s day, and he realized with a shock he was not seeing a stranger but Telai, here atop Krengliné where he had taken the Oath.

  He clenched his teeth, rose to his knees, and peered through the nearest crenel at the battle below. Just to the north, dozens of Hodyn had rallied around the leader of this new attack, who was carefully choosing sections of the wall to slice into with his laser. His behavior surprised Caleb, who had expected some reckless fool wielding the gun in all directions. This man employed cool deliberation, a conservation of power.

  Caleb ducked as an arrow skipped off the stone near his head. The enemy had not forgotten their old weapons. Raéni archers tried desperately to bring down their leader, but an answering hail of arrows always sent them into cover again. A few Raéni were wounded, but many more fell to the sudden sweep of laser fire, which often sheared away a portion of the battlement in an explosion of dust and splintered rock.

  The battle raged on, the wind carrying the mingled smell of death and pulverized stone along the wall. Another deafening rumble shook the air, and an avalanche of limestone crashed to the snow. The Hodyn scattered out to safety as a pale cloud of dust soared high and drifted past, obscuring his view.

  Caleb snapped to his feet and ran at a crouch toward the half-formed breach. A few arrows whistled overhead, but the dust concealed him, and many of his comrades took advantage of this screen to keep the Hodyn occupied. It lasted just long enough to reach his goal. As he took cover again, he caught a glimpse of another thin line of fire sweeping through the sky farther to the north.

  The cloud dissipated to the south, and the Raéni dropped to a crouch nearby. The Hodyn leader had a clear view once more, and resumed his methodical destruction of the wall. Caleb, less than a hundred feet away now, knew he had little time before the final cataclysm allowed the enemy to invade the valley and attack up the long ramps behind.

  He leaped up and brought the sights of his gun to bear through the nearest gap in the stone. An arrow buzzed past his ear as he pressed the trigger. With his hands and arms trembling from a rush of adrenaline, the beam danced wildly, vapor rising from where it sliced through the snow.

  At last he found his target. The man’s arm, in the act of lifting to fire again, tumbled into the air and thumped to the ground. The laser landed in the snow a few feet beyond.

  The Raéni archers surged to their feet, cheering triumphantly. Several Hodyn soldiers ran back, desperate to retrieve the weapon, only to be cut down by an arrow or the deadly beam of Caleb’s laser. Confidence with the effectiveness of his attack improved his aim, and a wide circle of bodies soon formed about the fallen weapon, hindering the others. But his success was short-lived.

  A blow struck his arm above the elbow. He fell backwards, bellowing as he slammed to the stone.

  Shuddering, he turned his head to the right. The sky had taken on the deep blue ink of early dawn, and the silhouette of a feathered shaft rose against the fading stars. He felt warm blood running over his arm, soaking the sleeve of his coat. The laser lay useless a short distance past his hand. He knew he should rise and use his other hand to resume the attack, but all he could do was lie there and endure the pain.

  A tumult of stone crashed in his left ear. The echo of it deepened and died away. Suddenly a pair of strong hands clasped his arm, and he let out another bellow as someone broke off the feathered end of the arrow, leaving only a few inches above the skin. He shut his eyes tight, sweating in agony as the stranger tightly wrapped a cloth about his arm for a tourniquet, securing the arrow in place.

  Another crash sounded, and the stone split wide right under his back.

  Caleb opened his eyes. The dark outline of a woman hovered over him, a single long braid of hair draped on her shoulder. It took all his will to force a few words out of his mouth.

  “Help me up!” he gasped.

  The woman wrapped her arms around him and helped him struggle to his feet. She thrust the laser into his other hand, and Caleb lurched toward the battlement, leaning on her shoulders for support. A wave of nausea washed through him, but he fought it, and braced the muzzle against the stone.

  “Give me cover!”

  A shorter Hodyn, careless in his use of the weapon, had replaced the first. He seemed more intent on amusing himself than anything else, swinging his aim in every direction, popping off huge flakes of stone from the wall. But a host of Raéni archers had gathered by now, sending a cloud of arrows down on the assailant’s guards. Caleb managed through a haze of his pain to drop the man in one shot.

  A thump and a gurgling rattle at his ear turned his head. The soldier who had bandaged his arm clutched an arrow at her throat, her stare flung wide in the gathering dawn. She coughed blood a few times, then crumpled to the stone at his feet.

  Caleb shouted in fury as he rejoined the battle, fighting for the strength to honor her sacrifice, to keep his aim true. But exhaustion and the loss of blood was beginning to take its toll. He would soon have no choice but to relegate his duty to another. Heaps of bodies darkened the snow around the fallen weapon, yet each Hodyn dropped closer than the one before.

  A sudden despair overwhelmed him. His true enemy lay in wait, greater than any mortal foe. And even as the thought formed, a poisonous light struck his eyes, an evil star fallen from the heavens.

  The remaining Hodyn abandoned the weapon and fled. A silence fell over the valley, broken only by the wind whistling through rents in the wall. The arms of Raéni soldiers hung limp at their sides, either from dread or rendered powerless by sorcery.

  Caleb bowed his head, the laser held fast in his trembling hand. He could not bear to look. To carry out the same deed that had hounded his conscience from across the stars would destroy his soul, and betray Telai’s faith in him. Yet how could he not? How could he abandon his son to an everlasting hell, and condemn Telai and everyone else in Ada to death?

  You cannot wait! You have to shoot!

  It was as though Soren and Hené and every other Raén since Etrenga had spoken as one in his own voice.

  The web of illumination surrounding the child faded. It drew inward, his small body devouring light, leaving only the pale ghost of dawn to relieve the darkness. The Raéni stared at their feet in growing dread. The Old Wall began to quiver, like the hide of some giant beast disturbed from slumber.

  There was no time to mull over the decision. Caleb’s despair gave way to a feral madness, and he leaped up against the parapet to steady his aim.

  Karla! My God, Karla, forgive me!

  He fired. A child’s hand lifted, an almost casual gesture. The beam arced harmlessly into the sky and disappeared.

  The tremors grew. Stonework already weakened o
r dislodged by laser fire tumbled to the ground in an echoing crash.

  Hate filled all of Caleb’s soul. The pain in his arm vanished. Throwing aside the laser, he climbed atop the battlement to stand teetering on the brink of a fall. With fists held high and his stare fixed upon the demon who had violated his son, he put all his love into a mighty shout.

  “WARREN!”

  It was as if his heart and not his voice had screamed that name.

  The boy glanced upwards. A slight hesitation mellowed his face. Then a surge of wrath obliterated it.

  Silently, the joint of every limestone block along Krengliné, from mountain to mountain, blazed like the desert sun.

  Stone upon stone hurtled backward at the onslaught of irresistible power. The multitude of cries and shouts of the Raéni were lost in an ear-splitting cataclysm that traveled the length and breadth of Hendra’s Valley. In the midst of the debris and flying stone Caleb screamed, scrambled for a hold—then blacked out and knew nothing more.

  ♦

  “Retreat!” Soren cried at the Raéni before him, waving his hand north along the dam. “Send a message to those south to rendezvous at Gortgal!”

  Many were reluctant to obey this new command. But the sight of Krengliné destroyed in a blaze of white fire shattered all thoughts of victory. It grieved the Master Raén to abandon Sonién, for which so many men and women had sacrificed their lives; but against the power of the Bringer they dared not stand. A deep horn bellowed nearby, a grim sound to any Raén, and soon after another echoed from the southern end of the dam.

  Soren had not forgotten his promise to the Overseer. Ordering Edai and a small group of soldiers to follow, he led the way north along Sonién to where Gegré-Udan wound its way up to the gate. All others crossed the ice directly, some carrying the wounded, the rest vanishing into the shadowed city streets toward the High Loop. Soon the steep, winding road above Ekendoré was thick with laboring soldiers.