“By peace's embrace!” Lurec exclaimed, as an ominous rumbling trembled the bones of Dayn's every joint. “How could anyone survive that?”
“Powerful attackers, to twist the torrent against us,” Nassir said, his voice grim. Icy particles and debris trembled around their feet as the sound deepened. Torrent fragments continued to burn through the sky. Plumes of ice appeared wherever they struck the mountainside. The Defender's eyes rested on Dayn. “We shall soon know what they seek.”
The shouting grew louder. Dozens of Suralose men came bounding and running down the slope, driven by a fear of something greater than the torrent.
“Run, offworlders!” A wild-eyed Suralosan rushed past them so quickly his scarf trailed behind him like a cape. “There’s safety in the stronghold!”
“I see something up there.” Dayn squinted into the haze, which now billowed down the mountainside. Wraith-like figures lurked through the smoke and fog. The fleeing workers saw them too, and ran that much harder.
“Thar'Kuri?” Nassir asked without looking up. He seemed intent on securing his pack.
“We would know.” Lurec's voice was tight. “We’d feel them coming.”
One of the Suralose liftriders emerged from the roiling fog as the rumbling grew louder. Cries from his fellows on foot urged him on. “Rouse the guards!” Behind the liftrider, a man on horseback shot out of the summit’s haze at a dead gallop. The horse gathered itself and pounced. Metal flashed in the rider’s hand as he bounded toward the liftrider. The Suralosan screamed. He fell from the sky to thud limply in the snow. The horse arced past him, the rider’s sword now wet with blood.
The horseman descended in a spray of snow further down the slope. He wore leather armor, and brown fur covered his body and hid his face. He looked at his handiwork, then wheeled his horse back down the slope. Dappled white and sienna, the fierce stallion gathered on powerful haunches and sprang some ten spans into the air.
“Horsemen from the torrent?” Dayn said, stunned. Light flashed around the horseman as his mount glided down the mountain. More followed, whooping and shouting, cutting down any fleeing Suralosans in their path. “Peace, they’re wearing sheath!”
“Go down to the stronghold,” Nassir ordered. The shaking grew ominously louder, but there were too few horsemen to account for it.
The Preceptor looked up the slope in alarm. “Defender, I must insist we stay together!” Dayn nodded in fervent agreement.
“Can you use that twig, Shardian?” The Defender jabbed a gauntleted finger at Dayn's silverpine.
“I...know all my forms. What about―”
“Quickly, show me Crane's Stance!” The Defender's bark triggered a reflex born from hours of staff training with Milchamah and Joam. Dayn snapped into the defensive position, feet spread further than shoulder width. Satisfied, Nassir spun on his heel. “Stay close.”
The Defender ascended the mountain with a predatory gait. He reached for the pack strapped to his back, and made a quick twisting motion. Dayn momentarily forgot the pandemonium around him as Nassir pulled free the largest sword Dayn had ever seen.
Lurec made a strangled noise at sight of the hulking sword. “A sickmetal blade?” The ragged metal shifted between black and deep blue, like a piece of midnight, wrought by fire. The blade’s edge appeared sharp, but the rest of it looked unfinished, more prone to rip and tear than cut.
Dayn's staff felt even more fragile as he followed hesitantly in the Defender's wake. Perhaps fifty horsemen charged down the slope, kicking up great gouts of snow as they pursued the ice melters, whooping at the top of their lungs. Nassir's confident advance did not slow.
“I don't know if my staff is...” Dayn looked back toward the stronghold, wondering if they should flee with the Suralosans. “Preceptor, you have no weapon. We―”
A shadow fell across Dayn's vision and he looked skyward. A rider sailed straight toward them. Lurec stood frozen as the stallion descended. Dayn tackled the Preceptor without thinking, sending them both sprawling onto the slope. The horse's hooves slammed into the ground where they stood just moments before. The rider swore.
Powerful, rippling haunches and strange metal horseshoes that gripped the ice with treacherous hooks filled Dayn's vision. He nearly vomited at the thought of what the animal might have done to his chest. The horse vaulted majestically into another bound as the rider continued on down the mountainside.
“Well done,” Lurec gasped. “Well done.”
The two scrambled to their feet. Other horses swept past, but the riders seemed more intent on reaching the mountain's base. “They cannot hope to breach the stronghold walls!” Lurec said.
“Shardian!” Nassir's warning shout bid them to look up. The galloping horses were not the cause of the thundering that shook the ground.
Well behind the charging horsemen, a monstrous boulder careened down the slope and straight for Nassir. The surface glowed red with heat, and great gouts of steam hissed out from where it churned through the snow and ice. The whole thing easily reached the height of the Dawnbreak Inn. A pockmarked band of metal encircled the boulder’s width, fixed in place as it rolled. Coiling cables looped from the band to the very top. A lone rider there directed the boulder, seated within a metal cage. He rested above the mass of stone like some strange spider perched upon a spinning egg. It descended upon them with a speed that made Dayn's knees go to mush.
“Siege implement! Avoid it!” Nassir's shout floated back to his ears. The Defender had already moved away from the rockrider's path. Dayn moved to follow, but the Preceptor just stared at the oncoming device with a slack face.
“Come on!” Dayn cried, yanking at him roughly. Lurec pulled out of his trance to hasten after him. With a roar that swallowed all other sound, the rockrider swept past them. They staggered drunkenly in its wake. Dayn could not imagine a wall thick enough to survive the impending collision.
The Preceptor's eyes bulged in sudden warning as he looked past Dayn's shoulder. “Dayn...”
Instinctively Dayn ducked. A sword whistled through the air above him, and he heard a grunt of effort. Dayn spun around, hands trembling on his staff. The horseman's attempt to remove Dayn's head nearly pulled him from his saddle. The chestnut mare struggled to regain her balance.
Dayn rolled smoothly and rose behind the outstretched rider as the man sawed savagely on the reins in an effort to right himself. He was already too late. Dayn swung fluidly into Sun's Rise and Fall, arcing the end of his staff toward the base of the horseman's neck. The man spilled from his mount like a ripped sack of milkwheat.
The agitated horse shook off the rider’s nerveless grip and began a confused trot down the slope, following the melted trough left by the boulder. Dayn stared at the man who lay unconscious at his feet. Milchamah told us never to do that, except for when animals attack. Never against a man.
“You saved me again, Shardian,” The Preceptor said as he approached. He looked more closely when Dayn remained still. “You’re not hurt. I believe that Defender will leave us here if we tarry. Better to take our chances at the stronghold below. What’s wrong?”
“I've never...I didn't mean to...” Dayn's hands shook as he looked down at the motionless form lying before him upon the ice. Oh peace, I don’t think he’s breathing. Get up! The weakness of the ground on this world made Dayn stronger than he ever thought possible. He wanted to throw his staff as far away as he could.
“Come, lad,” The Preceptor said, more gently. “We must hurry.”
A new rumbling grew beneath their feet, and they peered anxiously up the slope. Although the torrent appeared to have ceased falling from the sky, a second guided boulder approached.
Dayn nodded bleakly as he searched for the Defender. Nassir steadily trudged upslope, three hundred yards distant. He did leave us, just like Lurec said. So much for being my protector. “We should stay together,” Dayn mumbled. “Besides, all of those horsemen are down there. Is that really where you want to go?”
“Peace, no!” Lurec said. “But would you rather us follow that madman? Look!” He pointed up the slope.
The Defender stopped, almost as if he heard Lurec's words. Another rockrider rushed toward him, moving even faster in the runnel created by the first. To Dayn's disbelief, the Defender charged. “He’s going to be crushed!”
Just before the boulder's shadow swallowed him, Nassir bounded. He surged into the air so powerfully he seemed to fly rather than leap, floating with a deadly grace, arms raised and sword held ready.
The Defender timed his bound masterfully. The boulder swept harmlessly underneath him. In a moment of shock, the rockrider fumbled at his rein-like controls before Nassir crashed into him. The two pitched from the boulder’s top and fell. The boulder spun crazily past Dayn and Lurec, following a drunken angle away from the stronghold. They ran toward the Defender, who had already regained his feet.
Dayn quickly outpaced the Preceptor. By the time he reached Nassir, the Defender had roughly tied the rockrider's arms behind his back with wingline. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and blood covered most of the honey-colored skin of his face. Nassir tensed at Dayn's approach, displeased by his presence.
Dayn swallowed, wondering if the man’s bleeding came from the fall or the Defender. The rockrider looked at Nassir’s sword fearfully, jammed blade-first into the snow.
Lurec wheezed to Dayn's side, taking in the scene with wide eyes. He accosted the captured man angrily. “Why have you done this? This attack has broken a treaty nearly four hundred years old!”
The man looked at Lurec dispassionately. “We fight for the Eadrinn Gohr. Your treaties don’t concern us, Ringman. Gharin the War King does as he will within the Belt.” Dayn's eyes widened. He knew the Eadrinn Gohr scoffed at trade, but he could not imagine they would attack another world directly.
The man's defiant glower faltered somewhat at Nassir's dismissive grunt.
“Gharin was murdered in his sleep two months ago, and no Eadrinn Gohr man ever spoke with your lilting tongue.” Nassir flipped the man onto his back, then pressed his boot down so hard on the man's chest that his ribs popped. Nassir made no effort to reach for his sword, but turned toward it casually, as though to remind the man it was well within his grasp should he need it.
He removed his mask. “I have not taken your life, so you know who I am. You would be wise not to twist your words, Aran.” The rider licked his lips nervously as the Defender gave him a wolfish grin. “No amount of sheath can save you from me.”
Lurec looked at the man in disbelief. “You’re from Ara?”
Equally stunned, Dayn could recall little of use about the world. Arans traded fine glasswork and other luxuries, but relied heavily on the Belt for the most basic of goods, including food. This man certainly looked like no artisan, but no matter how he snarled at Nassir, he did not make a convincing marauder, either.
“Which seats stood for this attack?” Nassir pressed, but the Aran man said nothing. The Defender ground his boot down harder. Dayn shared an uncomfortable look with Lurec. He had imagined Defenders to be unyielding warriors, but never cruel. But then I never thought one world would attack another, not before today. How does a Defender sworn to protect all of the worlds act then?
Nassir looked ready to provide an answer by reaching for his sword. The Aran's one good eye bulged in alarm, but he still held his silence with tight-jawed contempt.
Lurec threw up his hands. “Peace, Defender! Will we stand here until he freezes to death?”
“Any Beltbound who will not claim his own world may be in league with voidwalkers,” Nassir stated flatly. “Our mission could be of more import to them than I thought.”
“Voidwalkers?” The Aran choked out a laugh. “A precious sort of madness grips you and your Ring.” Nassir's fist clenched around his sword.
“He’s bleeding badly,” Dayn said. The Aran frowned at him, and Nassir blinked. To Dayn's relief, he released his sword.
“We make for the stronghold. Get up.” Nassir released his boot and the Aran's face brimmed with a sort of gasping triumph. Nassir hoisted him up roughly by his bound arms. Dayn noticed how the man worked his fingers feverishly, to keep from freezing in his bonds. “Certainly the Overlord will be glad of another prisoner to interrogate. A cold man, bred for this world. I know him well. He'll want to oversee the matter personally.”
The Aran's triumphant look vanished instantly. Nassir gestured down the mountain with his sword before returning it to the scabbard behind him. The captured Aran picked his way glumly down the slope, careful to avoid slipping. Dayn resolved to help the man to his feet should he stumble. He doubted either Ringman would.
An eerie silence marked their descent after the torrent and rockriders. Below them, a gaping hole lay in the stronghold’s dome where the first boulder breached the wall. Red stains in the ice and still bodies made for a sorrowful path down the slope. The Aran's face tightened as they drew near, and he kept his gaze upon his feet. There were no signs of movement outside of the stronghold.
Pain touched Lurec's eyes whenever they rested upon another Suralose victim of the assault, and the Defender's face hardened in cold anger. Dayn changed his mind about helping the Aran up if he fell after all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
An Old Saying
So the Regent took the farmer from Badai to Ista Cham, and all over the Belt people cheered him and called the farmer prince. The Regent vowed he shall never work another day, but the farmer returned to Shard after that, lest the Regent insult him further.
-from Mari’s Lessons, a collection of Belt stories from Badai
They moved down the slope quickly, even with Nassir dragging his Aran captive along. The way leveled off in front of the stronghold entrance, the only visible opening in a pale dome half-buried within the surrounding ice. There were no signs of fighting, which struck Dayn oddly after the chaos that ruled the mountain just moments before. A slight man wrapped crown to heel in thick furs rushed out to meet them, calling out in an anxious voice.
“Master Defender! Master...Preceptor?” The man looked at Lurec with open astonishment. Dayn, he ignored completely. “We were given word of your arrival just before these savages attacked us. I am Kenit, herald to Feerthul, the Overseer of Suralose.”
Before Nassir could reply, a dozen Suralose guards spilled from the entrance. Kenit backed away with a yelp. They were all burly men wearing bronze breastplates and draped in pale furs that exposed nothing save their eyes. Each of them brandished long, steel-tipped spears.
“Stand aside, herald,” one of the guards drawled, watching Nassir cautiously. “We'll take the prisoners from here.”
“These are Ringmen,” Kenit protested. “Their transport was laid waste in the storm―I saw it myself!”
The guard pulled his furs down to glower at Kenit, revealing a curly beard that matched his dark eyes. “That may be, but the Overlord will decide what to do with them. Now stand aside, I say!”
“This is outrageous!” Lurec spluttered. Nassir touched his arm, then widened his piercing gaze to include Dayn before addressing the guard.
“We go willingly in your custody. The Ring is here to serve.” He gave the guardsman a level look. “Although you would choose poorly to ask for my sword.”
The guard's face reddened, teetering between relief and affront. “This way,” he spat. The Suralose men encircled them to provide escort into the stronghold depths. Dayn shivered. The air actually seemed to grow colder further inside the structure. Cold looked to be the least of their worries at the moment.
“How bad is it, Kenit?” Nassir spoke as though they were not prisoners alongside the captured Aran. The Suralosan guards watched the Defender closely, as if they feared he could singlehandedly dispatch twelve men.
Kenit stabbed a vengeful glare at the Aran rockrider. “We’re still accounting for the dead and wounded here, though we’ve yet to pull most of our drivers from the slope. All of these fiends have been captured or
killed thanks to our guards. Overlord Feerthul is surveying the damage now. That infernal stone nearly brought down the entire keep!”
“An impressive strategy, unleashing the torrent upon a world.” Nassir looked aggrieved that he had not come upon the notion first. He gazed thoughtfully into the corridor’s blue shadows at something only he could see. “A simple thing, to manipulate enough anchors in the stream to turn the torrent loose. Dangerous, but simple.”
“Best not say that in front of Feerthul, Master Defender.”
“Silence your tongues until the Overlord bids you speak!” The lead guard said over his shoulder. “Move away from them, herald, or you will be moved.”
The corridor spilled into an enormous storeroom strewn with blocks of stone and powdered ice. Weak sunlight shone through the caved in ceiling thirty spans above. Dayn glimpsed the steaming boulder of the first rockrider protruding from the destroyed wall.
Bundled guards with murder in their eyes watched more Aran prisoners, perhaps thirty men bound on their knees in a corner. Ice melters searched through the rubble with dazed expressions. Sympathy washed over Dayn. He remembered seeing the same looks among his friends, after the voidwalker’s fire laid waste to Wia Wells. He jerked his eyes away from where two drivers tugged at an oddly twisted, red shape. More than supplies lay buried in the wall.
A rigid man picked his way through the storeroom, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the damage. He wore a long gray cloak over the same bronze breastplate as the guards, except for a blue insignia on his chest of a howling, lone wolf. His hood seemed thrown back in contempt of the cold, and flowing silver hair did nothing to soften his harsh features. The guards marched straight toward him.
“Overlord Feerthul,” Nassir murmured for Dayn’s benefit.
The Overlord listened halfheartedly to a cluster of men and women as they pointed out cracks in the wall that a blind man could see. Or feel, at least. The air in the storeroom grew colder by the second.
The Seedbearing Prince: Part I Page 21