Thimeon turned to the prince. “Once we win our way inside, the rest of us will have to find our way up the main stairs and deeper into the mountain where the villagers and refugees await us. The stairs, if they are not destroyed, are on the left side of the courtyard, across from the arched entrance to the stables. Cathwain says that the Daegmons have broken down the outer walls, so even if we make it into the village, we may be attacked.
“Whatever happens, stay together. The creatures will use terror to drive us apart. Terror is their main weapon. You will all feel more afraid than you have ever felt. But fear alone cannot hurt you. You must not listen to the fear. If we run, we are lost. Keep yourself close to the mountainside and watch out for the tail and talons. If you get a chance to strike a blow, aim for the eyes.”
Dhan nodded. His face was pale, but he gave instructions to his officers. Duke Armas rode up beside Thimeon, a spear in his hand. Dhan, Kayam, and Rhaan came next, with Kayam bearing another spear. Corandra followed between Kachtin and Banthros, all three with swords drawn. Siyen, Jhaban, and Jhonna came next holding bows, followed by Lluanthro and Rammas.
Lyn had disappeared.
“Are we ready?” Thimeon asked. Dhan nodded. He put his left hand upon the book now in a pouch at his side. Without knowing why he did so, he drew it out.
A moment later the horses galloped forward along the trail. The road was narrow but smooth and well kept, and they rode hard. The half-mile distance to the village narrowed quickly. They were halfway there when the perched Daegmon saw them. A great war screech issued from its mouth as it leaned forward off its perch. With wings half opened, it dove downward to intercept its new enemy. The other Daegmon, hearing the cry of its sibling, also bent its wings and dove toward the battle.
Thimeon did not slow. The creature swooped straight toward him, on a path aimed to cut him off a hundred yards before he reached the cliff. They would not reach the village without battle. He responded by raising the ancient sword above his head, and as he did, a strange cry came to his lips: “Haw alle Haw jah. Illengond alle jah.”
Though it was he who had spoken, Thimeon only half-recognized the words. He had read them in the book clenched in his left hand without knowing what they meant. Instinctively, he raised the book over his head.
A bolt of blue light shot from the tome, straight at the closer of the Daegmons as it extended its talons to strike. The burst of light exploded against its underbelly, knocking the creature to the side, causing it to nearly crash into the rocks. Thimeon was as surprised by the power coming from him—no, not from him but from the book he held—as he was by the words that had formed on his tongue. He remembered the stone he had held in the earlier battle and the power that had come from it. He recognized instinctively that this was alike and yet different. This time his own will was not involved at all. It was not just another power at work but another will.
But he did not pause to question it. He charged onward, calling the others as he went.
Above, the other Daegmon screeched in hatred, but it veered off its course and out of the path of the charging riders. The horses galloped on, their strides unbroken. Seconds later, they were in the outer room of the stable without a fight.
“What was that?” Dhan asked, staring in amazement at Thimeon.
Thimeon didn’t answer. He didn’t know the answer and had no time to think about it. For now he would put his faith in that power. He was already dismounting. Though rubble lay on the ground outside, this part of the village had not yet been attacked. The walls and doors still stood.
“Get the horses in there,” he shouted at Corandra, Jhonna, and Rammas, pointing to the right. “The rest of you to the stairs.”
He could hear the Daegmons wailing at the unexpected loss of their prey. A great tail slammed into the wall just outside, sending a shudder through the rock beneath their feet. The horses needed no urging to move further through the arched doorway. Jhonna slapped the last one through the stone doorway toward the stalls of the underground stable, then turned. Just as she did, the gigantic grotesque jaws of a Daegmon appeared a few yards away, wide open and gaping at the entrance to the cave. She screamed and jumped back even as Thimeon leapt between her and the creature.
Before he could pull her to safety, a blast of red flame exploded from the Daegmon’s mouth engulfing him. He could feel his body melting in the terrible heat. Then the mouth shut. The flames disappeared, as did the great head of the Daegmon. Thimeon not only still lived; he was unhurt. Not a thread of his coat was singed. How?
He had no time to wonder. Jhonna lay on the ground unconscious. He rushed to her side, afraid of what he would find. Corandra was only a step behind and flung herself down beside her sister weeping. Thimeon knelt beside her, afraid of what he would find. But though the fringes of Jhonna’s long hair smoldered, she showed no other visible sign of injury. There was no time to tend to her now—the spot where they stood was too vulnerable. He put his hand on Corandra. “Go with the others,” he commanded. “I will bring her.” Corandra did not move. He turned to the prince, who waited on the stairs. “Up,” he yelled. “I will follow.”
He took Corandra’s arm and forced her to turn and look at him. “Go,” he said. “I will not leave her.”
Tears streamed down her face, but she nodded and turned for the staircase. Still holding the book in his left hand, Thimeon slid the sword into his belt at his side and picked up Jhonna in his arms. Draping her head against his shoulder, he disappeared through the door just as the head of the Daegmon returned. Flames filled the courtyard, and he heard stone falling behind, but for a moment their enemy could not reach them.
The climb was not easy. It would not have been easy even without a burden. Rocks and fallen debris cluttered the stairs. They had to pick and climb their way over boulders and around broken walls. Twice Thimeon almost fell or let go of his load. To his relief, Jhonna regained consciousness partway up and opened her eyes, but she had no strength except to put her arms around his neck to steady herself.
It took several minutes to reach the main passage along the village. There they could go no farther. The balcony had been destroyed, along with the doors, passages, and houses that faced the outer wall. Thimeon set down the shaken Jhonna and let her sister tend to her. For now she lived—he had no time to worry about her beyond that.
He worked his way to the front of the company to survey the scene. Just as he arrived, one of the Daegmons came flying from around the corner into the middle of the village. Its claws crashed into the wall just below their feet, knocking loose a huge hunk of rock. Caught unaware, Thimeon stumbled forward over the edge. Only Dhan’s quick reach kept him from falling. Before he could recover enough to strike a blow with his sword, the Daegmon had flown off.
Seconds later, the other Daegmon came in from the other side. This time Thimeon and Dhan were ready. Still clinging to the tome in his left hand, Thimeon drew the blade, hoping perhaps its power might come to life also. The tome glowed with blue light, but the blade still felt cold in his hand. But it was hard too—made for battle against this creature. He hoped its strength would prevail, even without one of the gifted to wield it.
As the creature’s claws grabbed at the rock below their feet, trying to rip the floor out from under them, both he and the prince slashed at its exposed belly with their blades. The book flared with blue light, once more seeming to respond of its own will. The prince’s sword glanced ineffectively off the tough hide, but the ancient war blade in Thimeon’s hand clove into the enemy’s flesh. Was it due to the strength of the blade itself? Or some other power at work? He did not know.
Hot liquid spurted from the wound, splashing into the rock at their side like acid. The creature screamed and fell away, but as it did, it turned its head and delivered a breath of flame that burned Dhan’s hand.
The prince wrung his hand in pain, but he was looking at Thimeon in awe. “There
is power in you. What is it? Those creatures are more terrifying than I had ever imagined, and yet you wounded one.”
Thimeon’s heart pounded with both the exertion of the climb and the fear of his near fall. “I do not know,” he said, speaking truthfully. “I do not wield this power. It has its own will.”
“But can we fight the creatures? Is that the power you hoped to wield?”
I do not wield this power, Thimeon thought, but he did not say so. For he could not deny that there was great power there. It had twice turned aside their enemy. Could they fight? He looked around. His companions were packed into the rock corridor. Only two or maybe three of them would be able to stand on the balcony, and the rock itself was vulnerable and crumbling. This was not a good place to battle.
“Back,” he yelled. “We need to find another way.”
At Thimeon’s urging, they all clambered several steps away from the opening while the creatures continued their work outside. A hundred steps down, Thimeon stopped them to regroup.
“Where to?” Jhaban yelled over the din.
Thimeon did not reply. Despite the boldness of his approach to the village, and the unexpected power that had come to their aid, he was still at a loss. Cathwain, he called, sending his thought streaming in her direction.
I am here, the girl answered. My people are ready.
Good. Let them know there is hope. There is a great power with us. It may be we even have a weapon that can hurt our enemy. The Daegmons fear. But we don’t know how to get to you. The balcony through the village is broken. Is there another way to you?
The stairway from here to the Sanctuary is still open, Cathwain answered.
Can we get to you without going outside?
I don’t know. There was a passage from the back of the stable, and from there a labyrinth of tunnels deep below the mountain, but only one leads directly to the upper levels, and I fear it is also destroyed.
Then stay ready, Thimeon replied. We’ll do what we can.
He turned and ordered the company back down the stairs. Reversing their path down the damaged stairway, they made it to the bottom without mishap. By the time they got there, it was almost dark. Outside the sun had fallen behind the hills, leaving but a few minutes of daylight and a faint gray light breaking into the outdoor chamber.
“The entrance,” Dhan shouted. Everybody looked. A giant boulder had been thrown against the arch, and more rocks tumbled down each second. The Daegmons were trying to trap them in the mountain. Only a narrow gap remained, just wide enough to squeeze through.
“Run,” Thimeon yelled. “There’s no time to delay.”
Still holding the sword in his right hand and the book in his left, he rushed past the others and pushed heedlessly through the opening. Fifty feet away, one of the Daegmons stood waiting in the shadows with its mouth open. Flames engulfed Thimeon the moment he emerged. He threw his arms over his face and yelled in pain. Yet the hot flames did not injure him, and three seconds later it was over. Somehow the book—or the sword, or some other power—had shielded him.
With a shout, he lifted his blade and rushed straight at his enemy. Dhan came behind him and was soon at his side. Armas followed. The three of them flung themselves at the Daegmon in a furious attack. Enraged, the creature struck back. Talons and jaws flashed through the air while swords rang against its hard scales. The ground shook, and the air reverberated with the battle cry of man and monster.
Then Thimeon’s blade hit home again, and he heard the Daegmon’s cry of pain as it recoiled from the blow. He lifted the book in his other hand, hoping for another bolt of power. But the book was nothing he controlled. It was not a weapon. Instead of a blast of light or bolt of energy directed at his enemy, the book gave off a strange glow in the darkness—a glow of clear blue light but somehow more than light. It was as though the light had substance. Thimeon could almost reach out and feel it.
Obeying some sudden instinct, he held the book higher aloft. The light grew in brightness. Other companions squeezed through the tunnel and raced toward the beacon to join in the battle. In response, the other Daegmon alighted on the ground next to its kin and with a flash of its tail sent Kachtin, Banthros, and Kayam hurtling fifteen feet through the air into a low snowdrift. A snap of its jaws sent Rhaan diving another way.
Yet the humans were many, and there was a weapon among them and a light as well that slowly drove their enemy back. Half a minute passed and the creatures turned, lifted their wings, and rose out of reach.
Dhan collapsed in exhaustion. A huge gash marked his left shoulder where talons had come within inches of taking his life. Armas held a broken right hand. Jhaban stood staring at a shattered blade. His cheek bled where one of the shards had cut him. Banthros and Kayam were bruised, and Kachtin had a bloody hand from his fall. Yet nobody had been killed.
“Check the back of the stable,” Thimeon called to Rhaan. “There is another stair there. See if it is passable. We’ll stay here on guard.”
As Rhaan disappeared at a run, Thimeon looked at Jhonna. She was pale but on her feet. She looked at him as though she hoped he would once more pick her up and carry her to safety. He turned to Kayam and Corandra. “Check on the horses. We may need them again.”
Three minutes later, Rhaan returned. “No good,” he said. “One way goes down steeply. The other goes up but dead-ends in a blocked passageway. It would take hours to remove those rocks, and who knows what’s on the other side.”
“Is there another way?” Siyen asked. “Do you hope to rescue the entire village? What can we do?”
Thimeon thought. “We need to drive the Daegmons away. Or destroy them. As long as they remain, the people have no hope.”
Siyen looked up at the sky where the Daegmons circled above. She shook her head. “How can we defeat them if they can just fly off whenever they want? This is just like before—just as hopeless as our last quest. Even if they are afraid of us, all they have to do is hide and wait until we’re gone, then return to their work here. We can’t catch them unless they want to be caught.”
Thimeon nodded. He pressed his arm to his forehead. “Like before,” he mumbled. “Yes. We need a plan. A trap.”
“You mean back to the ravine?” Siyen wondered.
“No. Someplace better.” He closed his eyes and sent a silent message to Cathwain. Send your people to the Sanctuary. Wait for the Daegmons to come to you there. We will rescue you. Trust me. Then he turned to his new companions. “Get the horses and follow me.”
They obeyed, and soon the company rode back down the road as if departing. While one of the Daegmons flew back to the ledge at the top of the village, the other followed them, circling above and watching their escape. It made one feint as if to dive and attack, but then swerved back upward, leaving their retreat unopposed.
When they rounded the second bend in the mountain, it turned back toward the village. Half a mile farther along the road, Thimeon called a halt, hoping that they were no longer watched. They had come to the bottom of the hidden trail to the Sanctuary. Nothing but his memory marked the way, but he was sure it was the place.
He dismounted and told the others to do the same. “Those with torches, grab them from your packs but don’t light them yet,” he said as he looked around. He knew they could not get the horses up the trail. Unfortunately there was no safe place to leave them. “We go up the hill on foot,” he called. “We will have to leave the horses. Don’t tether them. I would rather risk them running off to safety than have them defenseless and unable to flee if the Daegmons attacks. Follow me. Two by two, and stay ready in case we’re attacked.”
45
SACRIFICE
Not far away, somewhere beneath the mountain, Cathwain relayed Thimeon’s instructions to Chal-char, the Elder of Gale Enebe. Chal-char frowned at what she told him. “No. I will not risk our people like that,” he said in the language of
the Ceadani.
“But Thimeon said—”
“I know what he wants, but I will not let my people be used as bait to lure the Daegmon to his trap.”
Cathwain thought of Thimeon risking his life to save their people. She was panicking. “What then? What of his plan?”
“I will be the bait.”
Now Cathwain was dismayed. “No. You can’t!”
“Better me than all our people,” her grandfather replied.
“Then let me go too,” Cathwain pleaded. “If it is me they seek.”
“It is destruction they seek,” Chal-char replied. “The destruction of this village. Of our people. Our art and our knowledge. The destruction of our holy Sanctuary.”
“But you said they sensed my presence here. And Gaelim’s, too.”
Chal-char looked at her, and as he did, a tear came to his eye. To her surprise, he did not argue. “Yes. It is time. I have protected you as long as I could. You are a woman now.” He pulled from his own shoulder a small green badge and pinned it on her shoulder. “The two of us will be enough. There is no reason to risk Gaelim also. Come.”
Several minutes later, the two of them approached the end of their climb. They stopped just a few steps from the top of the stairs. Light shone down through the opening above. Cathwain sent a silent message to Thimeon telling him they had arrived. She didn’t tell him it was only her and Chal-char.
We’re not yet ready, Thimeon replied. Wait one more minute.
The Betrayed Page 44