by Jean Lorrah
Relieved to find that Lilith had succeeded in reaching Zendi, Lenardo continued his search for Aradia. It was maddening. Would he have to do a building-by-building search to find her? Why was she not in his house, in recuperative sleep?
Then he thought to Read the bathhouse. It, too, held many wounded now. They were being taken there from the infirmary to sleep as they healed in the relative safety of the stone building.
But Aradia was not asleep. Her increased Adept powers had stood her in good stead. She might be tired, but she was nowhere near the total exhaustion of the others. Helmuth was with her in the room once used to store Zendi’s treasures. Together they were poring over maps of Zendi and the surrounding countryside.
“I cannot find anything to use,” Aradia was saying in frustration. “The land is all so flat around here, we can’t drop a cliff on them. There’s no bog to suck them under.” She paced. “If they can find us, they can knock buildings down on us, but we have no way to attack them except with our full powers. Why was this city ever built here, where it’s so hard to defend?”
“The Aventines built it, my lady,” said Helmuth. “They have no Adepts.”
“Yes, of course. If only Lenardo were here.” “Surely he will come, my lady,” Helmuth said with more loyalty than conviction. He knew, Lenardo Read, that there had been some serious disagreement before Lenardo left, and afterward a fight between Aradia and Wulfston. When things quieted, Wulfston had sent Arkus in search of Lenardo, but no one could find him.
Although he would never voice it, the old man was of the opinion that Lenardo had been driven away and that later Wulfston had made Aradia repent of her rash act. Whatever had happened, Wulfston no longer wore the wolf-stone.
But what had happened to Lenardo and Mia? I should have gone with them, Helmuth told himself. Why did I let my lord ride off alone with the child? They never reached the gates of the empire. What became of them?
Helmuth feared that, avoiding their own soldiers, they had perished in the earthquake. Why else would my lord not return when his people are under attack?
So Aradia had told no one but Wulfston about her Reading. It was no help to her now; she was making no attempt to Read, and all Lenardo’s efforts could not make her notice him. I’ll just have to go to Zendi.
When Lenardo drew his attention back to Torio, the boy was sitting up so mat Fila could wash the blood off his shoulder. The wound was closed and already half healed. Torio lifted his arm experimentally and laughed as only a dull ache throbbed through the area that a short time before had been pounding with agony.
“It’s not my sword arm,” he said. “I can fight.” “You must rest first,” said Fila. “Lie still now and let me complete the healing.” She pushed him gently down and then touched his shoulder again, letting the healing heat tingle through it. Then she looked up at Lenardo. “My lord, it would be best if the young Reader slept for a few hours.”
“No,” Torio protested.
“Wait, Torio,” said Lenardo. “Fila, Torio is a Reader, not an Adept. He won’t be draining himself if he uses his powers. Zendi is under siege, but the Adepts on both sides are resting now. When they waken with their strength renewed, I must be there to guide Aradia and Wulfston. I want Torio there, too, not several hours away.”
“I understand, my lord,” said Fila, “but Lord Torio can rest in one of the supply wagons.” “Very good.”
Despite his protests, Torio was settled into a wagon between cases of supplies and sent helplessly to sleep. By that time, the men wounded in the skirmish with the Aventine guards were brought to Fila, who set to work healing them, promising to follow as soon as all were out of danger.
Lenardo rode among a veritable migration toward Zendi. Every road in the land was filled with people on their way to defend the capital. They would far outnumber the besieging army, but few of them were trained soldiers. Those had all heeded the watchers’ summons yesterday and were already doing battle.
Reading ahead, Lenardo found that the attacking Adept army was forcing its way in a wedge toward Eastgate. Knowing that they would soon be surrounded, they were trying to break into the city, where, if they could capture them, they could hold Zendi’s Adepts hostage.
Lenardo’s heart sank. None of the four attacking Adepts was injured; within hours, their powers would be back to full strength. Lilith would be unconscious for days. Her son was just a child. That left Aradia and Wulfston, outnumbered two to one. If he could not reach them before they were captured or surrounded, his friends would be operating blind while their attackers still had their Reader. Try as he might, he could not contact Aradia. I must get there.
He pushed his horse forward, and people made way for him, cheering as he passed. He Read their hopes rising. The Lord of the Land was riding to the rescue. Julia followed him, and he could find no reason not to let her. If Zendi fell, it would be better if she died in the fighting than if she were taken and forced to Read for the enemy, like Galen.
Lenardo’s troops fought bravely, but he was still half an hour away when they were forced back against the Eastgate portcullis, and the towers brought down on them by the newly wakened Adepts now working easily at close range. The enemy was within the walls. Their troops were met by Lenardo’s, but they provided a safe path for the Adepts and Galen to enter the city.
As the news flashed through the city, all within rushed to block the enemy’s progress through the streets. Wulfston, Arkus, Josa, Greg, Vona, and Aradia met in the forum, but instantly a sea of flame leaped about them and they scattered. Readerless, they were easy targets. Lilith’s son came running out of one of the side streets and met Wulfston, who grabbed him and turned him around.
“Keep moving. They’re four on one if we provide them a target.”
“But-”
“They’re in East Street. Can you remember the big brick building with the false tower on top? Think, Ivorn. You’ve seen it.”
“Yes,” the boy said uncertainly.
“We’ll bring that front wall down on them. Can you focus on it?”
“Yes, Lord Wulfston,” the boy replied grimly.
“Good. Front foundation. Make the mortar crumble. Together,” he said, halting and taking the boy’s hands.
“Now!”
Lenardo Read the result of their effort: the crumbling mortar, shifting bricks, swaying wall falling with amazing slowness, but still too fast for the advancing enemy troops to escape. The wall crushed at least twenty to death and injured a dozen more.
But the Adepts and Galen were not among the dead and injured. As the wall was falling, Hron turned on Galen.
“Who-”
“Wulfston and that boy, Lilith’s son.”
“Where?”
Wulfston and Ivorn were still concentrating, not knowing the effect of their effort until the heavy vibration rumbled through the ground beneath them. They were still standing together as Galen hastily described their location and the Adepts hurled a thunderbolt.
It was almost a direct hit, and they were flung apart. Wulfston was hurled against a wall, where he struck his head and fell unconscious. Ivorn was thrown high in the air to land in a heap on the cobbles, knocked breathless, with several ribs and the small bone of his right forearm broken. Neither could move. Now it would be easy for the Adepts to kill them. //Galen,// Lenardo projected intensely. //Lenardo! Where are you?// But the question was academic; Galen already had him spotted. “Lenardo’s coming,” he told Hron. “We must keep him out of the city.” “He can’t do anything from out there,” Hron replied. “Did that blow kill Wulfston and the boy?”
//Galen,// Lenardo projected again, determined to distract the Reader, //my people will open Southgate for me. You can’t win now.//
“Lenardo’s at Southgate,” said Galen, creating a new eddy of confusion in the already boiling mob as he turned his horse and began struggling back toward one of the streets that curved around to Southgate. //This time you won’t escape, Lenardo. This time I’ll
kill you!//
Hron followed Galen. The other Adepts, rather than waste their strength clearing the debris out of the street before them, turned back as well.
Inside Southgate, Lenardo’s troops surged through the streets toward the approaching enemy. As the first ranks came into view of the Adepts, a roaring wall of flame consumed them. Those just behind retreated before the heat and the death screams of their companions, but Lenardo’s plan called for their retreat.
If he could entice Galen and the four Adepts to Southgate, he could destroy them all. A watcher on the Southgate tower signaled the approach of the enemy to the army outside, and they began moving toward the gate, which would be opened for them.
“Halt,” Lenardo shouted, galloping to the front of the first column. “Stay back, and when I signal, retreat.”
“My lord?” But the astonished question immediately dissolved into obedience. “Yes, my lord.”
“Get me a signaling mirror and someone with the talent to start fires. Hurry!”
Galen was Reading him, and so Lenardo once more created a false scenario in his mind: his troops advancing, himself at their head. At Galen’s direction, the Adepts shot thunderbolts at his phantom. Lenardo enticed them to waste their energy over and over again.
A watcher’s polished mirror was thrust into his hands, and he tried to concentrate on two things at once: keeping Galen occupied with his phantom and signaling his true message to the watcher on the Southgate tower.
Retreat before Hron’s troops, he signaled. Let them win Southgate. Then take shelter as far from the gate as you can.
He could Read the watcher’s indecision and feared that Galen would. He told the boy, //It’s no use, Galen. Tell your Adept Lords to surrender.//
//You always were a fool, Lenardo.//
The watcher finally signaled Message acknowledged and turned to relay it to the other soldiers. The retreat began as Lenardo projected to Galen an image of his troops approaching the gate from the outside, while in reality they drew back, bewilderedly obeying their lord’s orders.
“Where’s that fire talent?” Lenardo demanded.
“He’s coming, my lord,” someone assured him, and indeed, a man in peasant garb was soon brought to him. “This is Mib.”
“My lord,” the man stuttered, eyes downcast, more terrified of Lenardo than of the battle.
“I need your help* Mib,” said Lenardo, dismounting from his horse so that he could speak quietly and reassuringly to the man. “The enemy is approaching Southgate, and our own men are pulling away. We are going to blow up the gate.”
“Blow up, my lord?”
“There is marsh gas under the gate,” Lenardo explained, andjbund that that meant nothing to Mib.
Trying to keep Galen occupied with false images so that he would not Read what was really happening put a deadly strain on Lenardo’s patience. Precious time was passing. With a fine show of effort, the troops inside the city retreated before Hron’s oncoming army. Lenardo was still trying to make Mib understand that if he would cause a fire at a certain spot under the ground, the whole area would explode. The man didn’t understand but was willing to try.
“How deep, my lord?” he repeated for the third time.
Again Lenardo tried to find a measurement Mib would comprehend, just as Hron’s troops took Southgate, scrambled up the tower, and called down to the Adepts and Galen that there was no one outside the gate.
Galen still Read what Lenardo was projecting: Lenardo’s army trying to break down the gates. “You’re lying!” he shouted at the soldiers on the tower, and forced his crippled body up the tower stairs, blocking the way of Hron behind him. Marava and the other two Adepts were working their way to the tower.
“Now,” Lenardo told Mib. “Start that fire now.”
The man went blank to Reading as he concentrated his effort. Lenardo Read the underground cavern where the culverts had collapsed. Nothing happened. He located the spot of heat in the ground.
“Move east!”
Mib gasped and panted; then he began to concentrate again.
Galen came out on top of the tower and looked at the scene below. His eyes and his Reading told him two different things. In utter terror, he clasped his hands to his head and screamed. Hron came up beside him, took one look at the scene so different from the one Galen had been describing, and dealt Galen an open-handed cuff that sent him sprawling.
In vast relief, Lenardo let go of the phantom scene, concentrating fully on Mib. “Lower,” he told him.
“Hurry!”
Already sheets of flame and thunderbolts were erupting all about them as the Adepts now saw the army massed a good distance from Southgate, but not too far for their Adept tricks.
“Now,” Lenardo shouted to Mib. “Do it now, before they realize we lured them-”
//Murderer,// Galen’s voice screamed in Lenardo’s head. //I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!// He scrambled to Hron’s side and pointed. “My lord, Lenardo is there. He tricked me, my lord. Kill him!”
Hron could not have made out individual figures at that distance, but whether he believed Galen or not, his blows would kill his enemies. Sheets of flame lighted the ah”. Thunderbolts shook the ground. Even as Lenardo urged Mib to fire the marsh gas, the man’s body convulsed, a bolt seared through it, and he fell blasted, dead at Lenardo’s feet.
Horrified, Lenardo leaped back, his shocked cry lost in the noise of thunderbolts, the screams of the dying, and the galloping of panicked horses. He had to find someone”Can you start fires?” he cried to anyone who came near, but no one answered.
//Master Lenardo, get out of the front ranks.// It was Torio, freshly arrived and Reading the scene of carnage.
Lenardo Read widely and found that inside Zendi, word had reached Aradia of the assault on Southgate. She could fire the gas with hardly an effort. //Aradia, Aradia!// he projected, but it was no use. Concentrating her Adept powers, she was completely blind to Reading, and she was leading a small band toward Southgate. Within minutes she would be in range to be killed in the explosion of the gas. If Lenardo did not set it off, though, she would be one Adept against four-certain death even with her increased powers.
Lenardo remained in the front ranks of the retreating army, calling on every side for a fire talent, Reading Aradia approaching her doom. No time! No time to find anyone else.
Torio reached him, Reading with him, saying, “I can’t find a fire talent, either. It won’t work, Master Lenardo.”
And Galen easily focused on the two Readers together and began describing their location to Hjon.
//Galen,// Torio gasped. //Galen, it’s Torio. We were friends.//
//If you’re Lenardo’s friend, you’re not mine. You chose the wrong side, Torio. My friends have the power, not yours.//
“I have it,” Lenardo said suddenly, desperately.
“Have what?” Torio asked in bewilderment.
“The power to fire the gas. If Aradia can Read, why can’t I do Adept tricks? Fire is easy, she says. Easiest of all-”
He stopped, knelt, and concentrated, Reading the pocket of gas, trying to visualize it flaming. His head began to hurt, but nothing happened. Aradia was only a few streets away. He couldn’t warn her.
He couldn’t warn her because she couldn’t Read and do Adept tricks at the same time. He had to work blind-Read the spot-stop Reading-concentrate-heat-fire- flame-willThe earth beneath him heaved and buckled, and then Lenardo was slammed to the ground on a wave of compression. He tried to Read what was happening but couldn’t. Blind as he had never been since earliest childhood, he knew only the physical pain of the air knocked from his lungs, the roar of the explosion, the screams, the choking dust, grit in his eyes keeping him from seeing as Torio rolled him off his cloak and covered both of them with it to shelter them from the debris raining out of the sky.
The noise and the feel of matter falling on them went on and on as Lenardo’s horror built. He could not Read. He was trapped within
his physical senses… forever? On a wave of physical and emotional exhaustion, he passed out.
Lenardo woke to the ground shivering beneath him. He had no sense of passing time and for an instant thought it the explosion of another pocket of marsh gas. But it was a tremor, not a jolt, and he felt at once that he was no longer tangled with Torio on the rocky ground but alone in a comfortable bed.
A soft weight dropped beside him on the bed, and Aradia’s hand touched his forehead. “Lenardo! Lenardo, can you Read? Who’s doing it this time?”
The tremor was already dying away as he tried to Read. He could. No vast range, but he could find the center of this slight quake and be thoroughly certain that no Adept was causing it.
“Just an aftershock,” he said to reassure Aradia, opening his eyes to meet anxiety in hers.
She smiled in relief. “I can’t Read well enough. I thought…” Her normal calm returned. “No, we have killed all of our enemies this time. You did it, Lenardo. You saved us..And we found all the bodies. No one escaped.” “Galen?” “I’m sorry.”
He sighed, too tired to feel genuine grief. His body felt like lead. Before he could allow himself to sleep again, he asked, “Julia? Torio?”
“They’re both fine. They were of great help, though Torio was guarding you like some fierce animal when I finally reached you. He told me what you did.” Her violet eyes glowed in triumph. “I was right, Lenardo. Now nothing can stop us.”
He didn’t have the strength to argue. It would have to wait until he was fully recovered. But he managed a sardonic smile. “It certainly stopped me.”
She laughed. “You did what every new Adept does: expended far too much energy on a simple task. You’ll learn. Sleep now.” “If I’m needed-”
“You’re not. It’s all over. All the wounded are recovered or in healing sleep. The dead will wait for the funeral tomorrow. Now that I know you will recover, I can sleep as well.”