by Terry Brooks
“You don’t think a promise that you will do what you can to save the entire world is enough for me?” Edinja snorted derisively. “All right. When this is over, maybe you might consider making a visit so we can talk face-to-face, perhaps find common ground. I am not Drust Chazhul. I am not seeking to destroy the Druid order or gain power over the other Races. I am looking for a way to build the sorts of bridges that Drust Chazhul could never have envisioned on the best day of his life. That will be satisfaction enough for me.”
A momentary silence followed. “All right,” Aphen agreed. “Show us the aircraft we will be flying, and we’ll be on our way.”
Aphenglow Elessedil did not for one solitary second believe that Edinja Orle was telling her the truth. At least, not all of it. Enough to convince the Elves that she had their best interests at heart, maybe, but not enough to give away her real plan, whatever it was. The problem was, she could not divine what was behind the sorceress’s willingness to help them, and she could not afford to refuse that help when it was exactly what they needed. Too much was at stake not to accept the offer of an airship that would give them swift transportation back to the Westland where they could begin their search for the missing Ellcrys seed.
So with Arling and Cymrian in tow, she followed the Federation Prime Minister out of the shop and back through the city streets toward the grounds and buildings where the Coalition Council kept its quarters. Cinla disappeared shortly after they set out and did not reappear. They encountered only one blockade and a handful of soldiers on their way. The city streets were mostly empty.
“We bypass most of the barricades and soldiers going this way,” Edinja declared at one point. “No sense involving them. They’ll have questions, and I don’t want to have to provide them with answers. This matter is between us.”
In short order they reached the housing and administration buildings set aside for the needs of the members of the Coalition Council, but Edinja kept going. Down a side street and behind the official grounds, she led them into the cavernous interior of a warehouse-sized building where a pair of sleek Sprints sat side by side on a landing pad. They were big machines, each able to carry five or six, their design unfamiliar to either Aphen or Cymrian.
“This should convince you I am serious,” she said. “These are prototypes. No one has them but myself and the military high command. They are a carefully guarded secret, and no one outside a handful of Southlanders has seen them. You will be the first. Have a look.”
Cymrian gave the nearest vessel a quick once-over, walking around it, examining its parse tubes and hoods, radian draws, and light sheaths, which were folded up on deck and ready to be hoisted. Then he climbed into the pilot box and examined the control mechanisms. Finally, he roamed the gunwales, studying the weapons attached to the railings on both sides.
“She’s beautiful,” he announced when he was done. “I have trouble believing you are prepared to give her to us.”
“I’m not giving her to you; I am loaning her.” Edinja’s eyes were fixed on Aphenglow. “I want her back when this is over.”
Aphen nodded. “Fair enough.” She paused. “How long do you think the army can hold out against this attack?”
Edinja shrugged. “Maybe three more days.”
“Have you sent for help?”
“The other cities need to look out for themselves.”
“From the Borderlands, then?”
The Federation Prime Minister looked away. “You should get under way. It is possible the demons know the bearer of the Ellcrys seed is inside these walls. It might even explain the reason for their attacking us.”
She walked away from them, her robes wrapped tightly around her small frame, her head up. She moved over to a wall where a huge wheel worked a series of pulleys. When she began turning the wheel, the roof slid open to reveal a sky filling rapidly with clouds.
“Climb aboard,” Cymrian called down to the sisters. “Let’s do what she says.”
Aphen helped Arling aboard, and they settled themselves into deep cushioned seats set to one side of the open cockpit. Restraining straps were provided, and they buckled themselves in. Cymrian took charge of the controls, powered up the aircraft, and engaged the thrusters.
Aphen glanced over one last time at Edinja Orle, but she was looking down and didn’t seem to notice.
Seconds later they were airborne. Rising through the open roof into the deepening gray of the late-afternoon sky, they encountered the stink of burned oil and flesh borne on the wind. Then, abruptly, it began to rain, and Cymrian swung the nose of their craft west, pushed the thrusters forward, and left Arishaig behind.
Late afternoon found Keeton exhausted and discouraged. The battle for Arishaig had resumed shortly after the march around the walls by the Jarka Ruus, and it had not yet ceased. Nor did he think it would until they were all dead. He no longer doubted this was inevitable. The demonkind were too numerous and too powerful to be stopped by the city’s defenders. He no longer believed there was any hope.
The beginning of the end had come earlier in the day. The massing of the demon hordes and their slow circling of the walls had been exactly what Keeton had suspected it might be—a feint to draw attention away from the real attack. The latter came shortly afterward, a fresh enemy army appearing abruptly from behind the ridgeline and launching a full frontal attack on the west wall and its already weakened gates. Both Keeton and Sefita had been ready for this, their soldiers on the ramparts and airmen aboard the warships armed and ready to respond. Unit commanders had been dispersed to their positions and orders to stand and hold issued to one and all. What else could they do, after all? The last of the oil was poured into the ditches and lit, the flash rips that had been mounted in a makeshift fashion atop the walls were brought quickly into play, and the vast armament of both waiting warships was turned broadside to repel the attack.
The effort had been successful. Although the creatures from the Forbidding pressed forward through flames and cannon fire and the launching of numerous steel-tipped missiles, the combined might of Federation military air and land forces had eventually thrown them back. It didn’t happen right away and it didn’t happen easily, but it did happen.
The problem was that this didn’t put even a temporary end to things; it simply served as a prelude. Because now the demon army was positioned both east and west, and the moment the west force went into retreat, the east force attacked. This was the bigger of the two armies and the one to which the larger task had been appointed—to destroy the Federation landing platforms and their moored vessels.
Keeton, standing with the defenders on the west wall, didn’t have a chance to assess its purpose firsthand and missed any chance to do so while there was still time. To those defending on the east it appeared this was just a further effort to break down the gates of the city. But it quickly became apparent that the thrust of the assault was not against the gates or even the east wall, but against the ramparts that protected the landing platforms at the southeast corner of the city. The hordes initially attacked the gates in waves, but quickly swerved off toward the platforms. Winged creatures returned in droves, dropping attackers that swarmed the defenses and quickly ignited whatever would burn. The warships were mostly aloft, but those that weren’t went up in flames along with skiffs, flits, and dozens of others. Only the transports, housed within barns deep inside the city and still out of view, were spared.
Virtually every airship sitting out on the platforms was destroyed, and the platforms themselves were so badly damaged they could not be used for landing without posing a danger to the ships and crews attempting to do so. The attack was swift and purposeful, and—once the intended result was accomplished—the demons broke off and retreated from sight.
That was when Keeton, consulting with Sefita Rayne and a handful of ground commanders, made the decision to begin evacuating the city. The Coalition Council was in disarray, its members scattered. Many had already left in private airships, flee
ing for the safety of other cities. Many had simply gone to ground. No one seemed to be in charge. Edinja Orle was still missing, although there were rumors that she had flown to Wayford and Dechtera to seek additional support for the Federation’s capital city. Whatever the case, members of the military were making all of the decisions by now, and Keeton was still their commander in chief.
The decision to evacuate was arrived at easily enough, however. With the transports still intact, there was no reason not to remove as many of the more vulnerable residents as possible, beginning with women and children and the sick and elderly. The city was in imminent danger of falling, and those trapped within were unlikely to survive what happened afterward. With warships available to act as escorts, saving those who could be saved was a choice that met with unanimous approval.
The loading of the carriers had begun at once, and transport had been under way ever since. The vessels would convey as many passengers as possible to one of the nearby cities and then return for more. Warships would act as escorts, and keep careful watch for airborne attackers—especially the dragon.
But now sunset was approaching, and the transports had been active all day. No further attacks of any sort had been made. What remained of the army had been divided by commands and dispersed to positions that would allow for at least limited defense of all four walls and a chance for overlap where it became needed. The warships not acting as escorts to the transports continued to patrol the air overhead, keeping watch against surprise attacks.
Not that Keeton believed there would be any. The next attack would come at nightfall, when the light was gone and the new moon rendered the landscape black and impenetrable, and there would be nothing surprising about it. It would include all of the remaining creatures, and they would sweep across the walls and into the city, and that would be the end of Arishaig.
“Wint!” he called, catching sight of his second as he neared the stations designated for loading the transports. Wint turned at the sound of his voice, and Keeton hurried over. “How many more do we have?”
The other looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. “You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Two. Both are in the process of loading. That’s all we have left until the others come back. That won’t happen before nightfall.”
Keeton shook his head. “That’s not soon enough.”
Wint laughed. “You don’t think so?” His laughter trailed off. “Nothing is soon enough, Captain. We’ve evacuated maybe half of the population. What we need is another day or two.”
“Then we’ll start using the warships as transports, too.”
Wint stared. “If we do that, we can’t hold the city!”
Keeton gave him a look of disbelief. “We’ve already lost the city! Haven’t you noticed?” He made a dismissive gesture. “I hate this.”
He glanced around as if the answer to his problems might be found in the growing darkness. “Could you form a command of First Response and regular soldiers to act as a convoy, escorting those who still remain out through the north gates and into the hills?”
Wint shrugged. “Pretty dangerous, trying to do that. Women and children. Pitch-black. Creatures everywhere.”
“At least they’ll have a chance out there. They can get out through the evacuation tunnels. If we wait for the next attack, there’s a chance they won’t be noticed.”
“I’ll get on it.” Wint paused. “You’ll be coming with us?”
Keeton shook his head. “Someone has to stay behind.”
“That would be you and me, I guess.”
“I’d rather you went. The convoy will need a capable leader.”
Wint shook his head no. “It will have to be someone else. Don’t ask me again.”
Keeton nodded. “Guess I knew you’d say that. Okay. Do what you have to and get back with me. Night is coming. They’ll attack when it does.”
He was turning away when Wint said, “Been a pleasure serving with you, Captain.”
Keeton turned. Gave his second a broad smile. “Let’s find a softer duty when this is over, you and me.”
“You and me, Cap.”
Keeton waved wordlessly over his shoulder and kept walking.
He spent a little time with Sefita Rayne, devising an exit strategy for when defending any part of the city was no longer possible, even though by now both knew that escape was reduced to a faint glimmer of hope. After that, he walked the walls, visiting with his Federation soldiers and their unit commanders, joking and laughing, teasing and cajoling, praising and reassuring, saying all the right things and speaking a few hard truths, trying to help them keep it together.
All the while, he watched the darkness deepen.
When the last of the sunset was a purple hue balanced on the edge of the western horizon and the darkness was just closing down, the last attack began.
It was a relief when it did.
21
It was just approaching midday when Seersha and Crace Coram piloted their two-man out of the north and into the smoky ruins of Arishaig. The city was gone, the defenses breached, the gates forced, and the walls taken. The Druid and the Dwarf Chieftain could still hear the screams and cries of wounded and dying as the victors prowled the ruins in search of whatever caught their eye. Diapson-crystal-powered weapons still flashed here and there at regular intervals as the last of the survivors fought to keep their stalkers at bay. Black smoke coiled skyward in twisted columns and gave the cityscape the look of a volcano heating up for another explosion. Dark shapes darted through the rubble, and it was impossible to tell which army or persuasion they belonged to.
“We’re too late,” Crace Coram rumbled, the regret and dismay evident in the tremor of his deep voice.
Seersha nodded. “The Straken Lord’s army must be huge for it to have done this. Arishaig was heavily defended, and the best Federation soldiers in the Four Lands were stationed here.”
“Do you suppose anyone got out?”
She shook her head. “Not enough, I’d guess.”
They were silent for a moment, looking down on the carnage, listening to its still-living voice rise up in a ragged plea. The destruction swept across the whole of the fallen city and well beyond. Thousands of dead lay heaped about the walls. Seersha searched for signs of airships, even small ones, but couldn’t find any. They had either made it out already or been destroyed.
“Look there!” Crace Coram said suddenly, pointing north behind them.
She looked obediently. Beyond the immediate destruction, far in the distance west of where the Prekkendorran sprawled and the grasslands below the Tirfing divided in rugged folds, a dark mass seethed. She stared, not sure what she was seeing at first.
“The Straken Lord’s army,” her companion declared. “Already on the march. Not wasting a moment more on what’s happened here. Why should they? They have a new destination.”
She took a moment to orient herself. The Borderlands lay in that general direction. The great fortress city of Tyrsis. But the drift of the enemy march to the west suggested another destination entirely.
“History suggests the demons will want to be certain the key to their prison is destroyed once and for all.” The Dwarf Chieftain shrugged. “Even a madman like Tael Riverine might be able to figure out the importance of that one.”
She nodded in dismay.
The demon army was marching on Arborlon.
Far to the north, Aphenglow and her companions angled their Sprint toward the Tirfing to begin their search for the couple who had stolen the Ellcrys seed from Arling. It was a search that the Elven Druid expected to conclude quickly with the help of the Elfstones, but one that required some caution, as well. After all, none of them knew anything about the couple. Aphen and Cymrian had met them only briefly and Arling, unconscious at the time, remembered nothing at all. All this suggested that rushing in heedlessly, no matter the urgency, would be foolish. Recovery of the seed was too important to allow for
mistakes at this point. With the Forbidding crumbling badly and the demons breaking free in force, protecting the seed was their foremost concern until it was back in Arling’s hands.
It was a huge relief for all of them to have gotten clear of Arishaig. For hours after they fled the besieged city they found themselves glancing over their shoulders, unable to banish the images of the battle from their minds. Aphen could not stop thinking about what Edinja had said just before their departure—that perhaps the Straken Lord and his demons had found out that Arling was the bearer of the Ellcrys seed and would come after her. That would explain their decision to attack Arishaig instead of Arborlon.
She could already imagine what it would mean to the people of the Federation home city if the demons found a way to break through, and that, in turn, suggested Arborlon’s fate was grim, should the enemy then come north to the Elven home city, which she thought likely. Destroying the Ellcrys utterly would permanently secure freedom for the creatures of the Forbidding, and the Straken Lord would actively seek this end. If he could track Arling, he would do so. Hundreds of years ago, the same effort had been made and had very nearly succeeded. It was only the desperate efforts of an Ohmsford boy and an Elessedil girl and a handful of companions that had prevented it from happening.
History was repeating itself, she thought darkly, and wondered anew about the Ohmsford twins and their allies.
“Why do you think she let us go?” Arling asked as the landscape sped by beneath them.
Neither of the other two had to ask who she was talking about. “She had nothing to gain by keeping us,” Cymrian offered. He was slumped back in the rear of the cockpit, stretched out as best he could in the cramped space.
“She knows what’s at stake,” Aphen added, hands on the controls, eyes forward. “If we don’t find and quicken the seed, the whole of the Four Lands will be overrun. Edinja would suffer the same fate as the rest of us.”
Arling shook her head. “You didn’t spend time with her like I did. You didn’t see those creatures she keeps, locked away like animals. She wouldn’t help us if she didn’t have something else in mind.”