Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  "What is this, Seth?" Gawl rumbled, getting off his horse.

  Delain, Armand, and Eldar did the same. Only James and Father Thomas remained in their saddles.

  "An ill-conceived rescue attempt," Seth explained. "I will assume you had nothing to do with it."'

  "No, we didn't," said Delain.

  Seth gave him a thin-lipped smile then walked up to Mathew and struck him backhanded across the face. The blow snapped Mathew's head sideways. He slowly raised his wrist to his mouth and wiped blood away.

  "Enough," Shakira said. "Bring the child."

  The smile faded from Seth's face. Not taking his eyes off Mathew, he motioned with his fingers and the soldier carrying Bran came forward.

  Mathew's eyes darted from Father Thomas to Bran and then to Lara.

  "I know what you are thinking, human," said Shakira. "Even you are not fast enough to stop the bolt from a crossbow. Remove your ring and hand it to me."

  When Mathew hesitated, a blow to the back of his neck drove him to his knees.

  "Kneel," said Seth.

  "Goddammit, Seth," Delain exploded. "That wasn't necessary. We're here to talk peace."

  "He doesn't want peace any more than she does," Mathew said. 'Tell them where the people of this town are."

  "What?" Delain said, looking around.

  A second blow struck Mathew behind the ear.

  "Speak when you're spoken to, boy," Seth snarled.

  Gawl took a step forward. "What's he talking about, Seth?"

  Two of the mercenaries reacted by training their cross­bows on him.

  "Tell the priest to get off his horse and come over here," Seth replied. "He's part of the bargain."

  "I asked you a question," said Gawl, his tone becoming dangerous. . .

  "Enough," said Shakira. "We finish this now. Give me the ring or the child dies." She held out a gnarled hand.

  Despair threatened to overwhelm Mathew. He had failed. He looked at his son and then at Lara. Because of his stupidity he had killed them all. The moment his ring was gone they were as good as dead.

  What have I done ? he thought.

  When Mathew slowly began to remove his ring, all eyes were on him. A look of unconcealed glee played across Shakira's face and she put the knuckles of her hand to her mouth. Mathew prayed their deaths would be quick.

  Twenty yards away a rider suddenly burst from the trees at a full gallop. Collin Miller charged directly for them. "Hang on, Bran, I'm coming!" he shouted.

  Before Shakira could react, Collin drove his horse headlong into the mercenary holding the crossbow on the child, running him down. A bolt fired from the nearest sol­dier hit Collin in the back and another hit him in the chest. Collin yanked sideways on the reins and horse and rider went down.

  Everyone started shouting at once.

  Collin staggered to his feet as a third bolt struck him in the chest. And with the last ounce of his strength, he drew his sword and hurled it like a javelin at the man holding Bran. Lara dove for her son.

  Then mercenaries rushed out of the homes and build­ings on both sides of the street, screaming.

  "Ambush!" roared Gawl, drawing his sword.

  Shakira's first blow came out of nowhere, driving Mathew backward. He felt like he'd been hit by a boulder. The air was being crushed out of his chest.

  Father Thomas leapt from his horse and ran to Collin. A soldier loomed to his left. The priest barely slowed as he drew his sword. He deflected the man's lunge, spun and beheaded him. The Vargothan's companion died of a bro­ken skull caved in by Gawl's massive forearm. Roaring like a bull, the giant waded in among the enemy, his broadsword moving like a scythe. James dug his heels into his horse and crashed into a man who was trying to stab Eldar d'Elso, knocking the blade loose.

  "Defend the king!" a soldier yelled, as the Alliance sol­diers rushed to help. "Defend the king!"

  Part of Mathew's mind registered it, wondering whether the voice belonged to a mercenary or to one of their own men. He knew he had to do something, but he couldn't re­member what. He was in agony and it was impossible to think.

  Snatching a sword from a fallen soldier, Lara placed Bran behind her and fought like a woman possessed. The nearest mercenary died when her blade pierced his throat, and the second to come at her found his weapon parried to the ground as she swept her line from high to low and left the point in line with his heart. Delain and two other men reached her a moment later.

  In the years after that battle, Mathew rarely spoke of what happened, and then only if pressed.

  Get up, Mat. That was it. I heard Collin's voice as clear as a bell in my ear. I knew he was dead and it wasn't pos­sible, but I swear to God, I heard it.

  Mathew Lewin got up. First onto his knees, then to his feet, as Shakira stared at him in disbelief.

  "You cannot win," she told him. "I have waited for this all my life. Even if I die, my people will prevail. We are too many, too many."

  Delain and Lara meanwhile, had backed up the- steps of the tavern. She was holding her child, trying to get him to safety. She desperately wanted to do something to help Mathew, but Bran was her first, concern, as they had agreed. Mathew had made her swear to that.

  Two Vargothan soldiers coming out the entrance nearly knocked them down. Delain went for the first one. The second turned to Lara with a snarl .-on his face, raising his sword. With Bran in her arms she knew she would never get to her sword in time so she turned her body to the at­tacker to protect her child.

  The blow never arrived. Father Thomas did. Where the priest came from, she never knew, but somehow he was there. There was no expression on his face as he drove the Vargofhan into the street, the blade coming at the merce­nary from everywhere at once.

  Then disaster struck. An arrow caught the priest in the back and he went down on one knee.

  Lara screamed.

  The mercenary immediately seized the opening. And he raised his sword above his head with both hands. At the last moment Father Thomas lowered his shoulder and thrust his legs forward, coming in under the blade and hit­ting the man in the stomach. The pommel of the weapon struck the priest's back. Before the man could recover, Fa­ther Thomas landed two punches to the side of the sol­dier's head, stunning him and knocking his sword to the ground. The mercenary stepped back and drew his dagger,

  but the priest moved with him, catching his wrist. Both men grappled for control of it, and then slowly, inex­orably, the dagger began to turn until the point was at the base of the mercenary's throat. The Vargothan tried to pull away as the blade started downward. After a second the man's knees gave way and both men collapsed to the ground. Neither moved.

  Mathew's head was clearer now, though Shakira was still talking to him, telling him to give up, and that he couldn't win. From somewhere, he heard Lara shout his name. The pressure on his chest lessened by a degree and then another.

  This was not possible, Shakira thought. The human should be dead already..

  Mathew struggled to his feet as Shakira increased the power of her attack. Thirty feet apart from each other their eyes met, and it seemed to Mathew that she looked very old. Collin's body lay nearby, his eyes staring blankly up at the sky.

  The tears that rolled down Mathew's face were hot and his anguish became an all-consuming fire. Everywhere around them people were dying, and the reason for it stood before him.

  The rage built until a roar burst from his lungs. On the steps near the tavern Delain and James drew back from the heat of a massive fireball that appeared out of nowhere.

  In desperation, Shakira struck again. Two beams of white light shot from her fingers at Mathew. They never made contact. Ten feet from him the light rose straight into the air; and his own fireball hurtled forward.

  A deafening bang shattered windows all along the street and was heard by people more than twenty miles away. When the smoke cleared, Shakira was gone. All that remained was a crater in the ground twenty feet deep.

  "Dear God," said J
ames.

  The prince scanned the street for Seth, but there was no sign of him. The mercenaries continued to fight, but the Alliance soldiers made short work of them.

  Lara and Gawl reached Mathew as his knees gave way. He was struggling to remain conscious.

  "My son?" he whispered.

  "It's all right, boy," Gawl said, catching him around the waist. "I've got you. Bran's fine."

  Another series of explosions snapped Gawl's head around. They were coming from the battlefield nearly two miles away. What no one in the village could see was that, one after another, the enemy cannons had suddenly begun to blow up.

  Satisfied his work was done, Mathew lost conscious­ness.

  60

  Balengtrath

  Mathew opened his eyes and looked into Lara's face. She was sitting on the side of his bed. It was such a beautiful face, one he could stare at for hours. He had al­ways loved her eyes. Then he realized where he was.

  "Bran," he said, sitting bolt upright.

  Lara threw her arms around him. "Shh," she said. "He's all right." She began kissing his face.

  "What happened?"

  "You were magnificent, darling. He's all right, I swear."

  "The others. . . Collin, Father Thomas—"

  Father Thomas is wounded, but the doctors say he'll live. He saved my life. Mine and Bran's, just as you did. You have to rest."

  "Collin?" he said, grabbing her by the shoulders.

  Tears welled up in Lara's eyes and Mathew sank back down onto the mattress turning his head av/ay.

  "How long have I been out?" he asked.

  "A few hours. They brought you back here. We're in Balengrath."

  When he tried to sit up again Lara held him back. "No. You have to rest."

  There was an urgency in her voice that made him look at her sharply. "What's happened?"

  Lara took a breath. "Seth and a few of his men escaped. The Orlocks and the Vargothans began an attack almost immediately. Our people are fighting back and we're hold­ing. That's why you have to rest."

  Mathew threw the covers off and swung his feet over the side of the bed. And as he did so the room began to spin. He put a hand on Lara's shoulders to steady him­self. "Help me up."

  "No. You have to rest. Delain and Armand said we can hold them for quite a while yet."

  "Help me up," he repeated. This time his tone left no room for argument.

  He felt weak and unsteady on. his, feet, and the headache that always followed when he used the ring was there again. Bran was asleep on a cot in the corner. Mathew walked over in his stocking feet and looked down at the boy. He looked at him for a long time and then took Bran's small hand between his thumb and forefinger and gently rubbed the back of the boy's hand.

  "He's so beautiful," he whispered.

  Lara came up to him from behind and put her arm around his waist.

  At a light tap on the door, they both turned. Gawl and Delain entered the room.

  "How do you feel?" Delain asked.

  "Well enough, your highness."

  "Are you strong enough to come up to the parapet?" Delain asked.

  Mathew nodded, but even that slight movement made his head throb. "Give me a moment to pull my boots on."

  "You can come, too, Lara. I'll have one of the women stay with your child, if you wish."

  "Mathew's still weak," she said.

  Both men looked at him, but he waved her comment away. "I'm fine."

  The statement earned him a severe look from Lara. "I'll stay," she said. "If your highnesses will excuse us for a moment..."

  Delain made a half bow to her and withdrew and Gawl bent down and kissed the top of her head.

  "We need him now, Lara," he said softly.

  Mathew wasn't sure what Gawl was referring to, but he knew the situation had to be urgent. As a test, he reached for the power. He could still feel it there, but it was very weak. In time it would build again. That was a given. He just needed to find that time. The sounds from outside the window told him that a battle was in progress. He walked over to it and looked out.

  What he saw was a shock. Shakira's fire wall was gone, but in its place was a mass of Vargothans and Orlocks. He had never seen so many bodies in one place. His heart sank.

  We are too many. Shakira's words echoed in his mind.

  Gawl reached out and squeezed his shoulder, then withdrew into the hallway to wait for him.

  "I thought it would be over," Mathew said as the door closed.

  Across the battlefield, Shakira turned to Seth and said, "He's awake."

  "Can you take him?"

  The Orlock queen fixed her eyes on the citadel and slowly nodded.

  "Then do it."

  "We must wait for Lewin to show himself. There will be no problem this time. He is afraid. I felt his fear when he drew back in the village."

  "Then why didn't you destroy him?"

  "He was strong—very strong," Shakira said quietly. "But it will make no difference now. I have seen his weak­ness. Fear gnaws at him like a disease. The day will be ours... at last."

  Seth looked at her for several seconds then let out a long breath and turned to the soldier next to him. "Tell the second army to bring up the catapults."

  * * *

  Lara didn't want to tell Mathew that neither Seth nor Shakira were dead. He looked so tired and drained, but there wasn't any other choice. When she did, his shoulders slumped and he sat down heavily on the side of the bed.

  "I understand," he said, reaching for his boots.

  "There's something else you should know. You'll find out soon enough. The enemy sent a message saying they will take no prisoners if we don't surrender."

  Mathew reached out with his mind and made contact with Shakira. She didn't bother trying to block him. The cold smile he saw sent a shiver up his spine. Lara knelt down and put her head in his lap.

  "What are we going to do?" she asked.

  Mathew stroked her hair and didn't respond immedi­ately, then he looked across the room at his sleeping son. A dozen thoughts came and went in his mind. Collin was dead, Father Thomas and Daniel wounded, and the enemy was about to destroy everything his people had fought so hard to build.

  We improved the science, but not the people who used it.

  Those were the Guardian's words. It was three thou­sand years later and they were still at war.

  It was a full minute before he spoke.

  "Lara, I want you to listen carefully to me. I want you to take Bran and get as far away from this place as possible."

  "What are you going to do?" she asked, looking up at him.

  "Something I didn't have the courage to do before."

  "Tell me."

  Mathew slowly shook Ms head. "Take our son and go now. I must know that you're safe."

  "Go where? And do what?' she said. "There won't be any place to go." Lara grabbed him by the shirt. "I lost you once before. I won't do it again."

  Mathew thought his heart would break. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. When he finally found his voice, he said, "You'll never lose me, nor I you."

  Suddenly she was in his arms again, and they clung to each other desperately. Walking out the door was the hard­est thing he ever had to do.

  On the walls of the citadel the faces of the defenders were grim. A few nodded to him as he passed by; Armand and two of his generals were near the main entrance watching the enemy movements through their farsighters. Armand's head was bandaged and one of his arms was in a sling. Spread across the valley floor before Balengrath were the troops of the Alliance. Banners marking the various divi­sions and armies flapped in the breeze. On the north side of the field were the Sennians and army of Bajan, and to the south, the troops of Nyngary. Alor Satar and the ma­roon cloaks of Elgaria held the middle. Somewhere near the base of the mountains were Akin Gibb and his people. Mathew tried to make them out for a few seconds and gave up. His heart was beating heavily in his chest.


  He'd already seen the forces opposing them from his window, but looking out at them from atop Balengrath was even more depressing.

  "They tell me you're spent," Armand said without pre­liminary. "Is it true?"

  Mathew remained silent. He thought of Devondale and of growing old with Lara and watching their son grow up. Little memories like shopping in the market or listening to Akin play his violin in the square came and went in his mind. All that was about to change forever.

  "Is it true?" Armand repeated. "I have to know what you're capable of . . . what we can count on."

  Before Mathew could reply, one of Armand's generals pointed toward the field and said, "My lord, another white flag."

  The enemy center opened to allow four riders through. One of them was on a white horse and wore a circlet of gold.

  "Hold," the general called down to his men. The order was quickly relayed along the ranks.

  "What now, Seth?" Armand shouted down.

  "I've come to offer you one last chance to surrender the citadel. Once the attack begins, there will be no quarter."

  "We read your message earlier. Your word is as mean­ingless now as it was this morning. Get out of my sight."

  "Armand, you cannot win this fight. Delain already knows that. Get some sense for once in your life and look around you. I'll see to it the women and children aren't harmed."

  "You're a liar."

  Seth turned his palms up. "I'll give you ten minutes to think about it."

  Gawl grabbed a spear from the nearest soldier and raised it to his shoulder. "This will give you something to think about."

  Seth watched the spear fall twenty feet short of-him and shook his head.

  "He's not interested in whether you accept his terms or not," Mathew said. "They'll kill everyone here the second they have the chance."

  Eveiyone turned to look at him.

  "Seth wanted to know the same thing Lord Duren just asked me ... if I can still fight."

  "Well?" Armand asked.

  Mathew looked at him for a moment, then turned to­ward the mercenary king. "Seth, tell your men to leave the field," he called out.