The soldiers soon devoured a spartan meal and found a place to repose as they crowded together in the way station. Someone produced a pint of bitters, followed by second. Passing the pints around, one of the troops stammered a bit in asking a question. “Captain Lovas…um…what d’ya think we will hear about that business in Stedt.”
From the other side of the one-room structure another answered. “Ah, there was nothing to it. Even if something magical or grand was supposed to happen, it would not have been much. Maybe just a scare for the locals. You know the man Stryker assured the King it was a wee device.”
“True,” said another. “He said it was no more than ‘a baby sister to a little girl.’”
“Whatever that might mean, the way he smirked about it,” the Captain answered.
Lovas sat on the floor enjoying a pipe, his back against the wall. Reclining next to him was Berl. A look of worry crossed the youngster’s beardless face upon hearing the older soldiers. Lovas bent down and whispered, “There is nothing to fear, boy. We’re safe from har—”
Before the Captain could finish, an enormous boom occurred. More resounding than a clap of thunder, the noise was awesome. A minute went by that seemed like an hour, but the sound quickly crescendoed. The Captain put his hands on the floor to steady himself, then realized the building itself was shaking. More than that, the very ground was quaking. Windows broke and beams cracked.
Huddled in a corner, a veteran soldier sat terrified and wet himself. He whimpered, “The gates of hell have opened!”
Another interminable moment went by. The quake turned to a rumble. Vibrations all around persisted. Lovas heard himself say, “It is coming at us.”
Men covered their ears to protect them from the ungodly roar that bore down on them. A few tried to get up, their futile efforts impaired by objects strewing around. Bits and pieces of the wooden structure fell about as it started disintegrating. When the young soldier next to him climbed to his knees and grew hysterical, Lovas reached out to him. The officer finally succeeded in grabbing him by the collar, but the younger man was screaming terrified and tried to break free. Lovas held him tightly amid the deafening roar and socked the boy in the face. Pulling himself on top of the unconscious troop, he was just in time to shield him from the falling timbers and madly flying objects as the building collapsed.
* * *
The road sloped up and down with frequent switchbacks that made Adel's mountain only seem to inch closer. At least there was no trouble from any wayfarers, though only few were encountered and all passed quickly without exchanging pleasantries. By early evening, they reached a high promontory of a spine-shaped ridge and for the first time they could make out Taunton’s location mid-way up huge Adel’s mountain.
All four gathered to look at the sight. Upthrusted rock formations and craggy spires abounded in all directions. In contrast with the ochre color of the rock, there were numerous pockets of green conifers at all elevations, mostly pine and balsams thought Nevin. With little sign of human habitation around the mountainous terrain, The city of Taunton reigned as the focal point of this panoramic vista. All visible roadways and trails formed a network that lead directly to the capital city. As their destination was now a scant number of miles away, it was an ominous moment for all of them.
Each had their own thoughts as they stared at the fortressed city. Orris fingered his sword, considering the possible threats to their safety before reaching the city. Anson tried to contain his anxiety over the lack of details to his plan, now that the end was literally in sight. Corissa feared that she would be recognized and stifled before they had a chance to meet with King Meire. Nevin’s mind was jumbled with a flood of thoughts; he wondered how aggressive and civilized the people might be, and what stone was used to construct this castle, and just how could Anson prolong the levitation of a heavy wooden limb, and, almost forgetting, has Corissa been taking her medicine. He was about to ask when they were stunned by a double pulse of brilliant light followed seconds later by an enormous explosion several miles away to the east.
Nevin gaped at the quickly rising fireball that swiftly spread into a mushroom-shaped cloud. “My god, Stryker. What have you done!”
Chapter 18
Survivors
With the enormous blast subsiding, Corissa linked a trembling arm with Nevin. “What has happened, Nevin?”
Looking straight ahead, as they all were, Nevin answered hollowly, “Someone has exploded a bomb. Not just a bomb, but something really big, like a nuclear device.”
“You mean a ‘nuke,’ like those I saw in the Hiroshima pictures?” Anson asked, his voice cracking.
“I’m afraid so.” Nevin replied, gazing in shock at the slowly dispersing dust cloud.
“Are we in danger, then?” Anson gasped.
“No, we are far enough away that the blast won’t reach us. We could have radiation exposure if the winds turn in our direction, but right now we very fortunate the wind is easterly away from us.”
Nevin gazed in disbelief as the distant ground fallout fell so slowly,like time itself was suspending with the obliterated debris. It reminded Nevin of that slow-motion replay of the eruption of Mount St. Helens that news programs repeated so often because it always riveted viewers’ attention. Shaking his head in a feeble attempt to deny the perverse spectacle, Nevin sighed. “Welcome to the Nuclear Age.”
* * *
Sleep after that was difficult because of their fatigue, but it was fitful sleep at best. At dawn, Nevin woke to see Anson still sitting at the promontory, staring at the horizon. The residual dust of the explosion produced a brilliant pink radiant sky with the sunrise, but the redness of the mage’s eyes reflected more than the color of the firmament.
“We are too late, Nevin. All our efforts and we are too late. How could it have happened?”
Nevin hesitated, not sure if it was rhetorical question. “I suppose a nuclear device could have been brought here, Anson, but it seems more likely that John Stryker somehow found the raw materials and made one. I don’t think there is anyone else around here with the scientific knowledge to pull it off.”
Anson looked up at Nevin, anguish competing with his puzzlement. “Are they that simple to create, such a destructive force?”
“Well, yes and no. It requires some knowledge of nuclear physics and familiarity with the basic design of the bomb. That is no great mystery anymore. The biggest problem is not the knowledge of how to make it, but getting the raw materials. And also safety from the radioactivity, that would certainly be a problem for Stryker or anyone who helped him.” Nevin’s explanation did not console the mage. “I know it looks bad, Anson, but it could have been a lot worse.”
“What do you mean, Sir Nevin? How could such destruction be worse?” Orris asked, now joining them. Corissa remained asleep.
“As nuclear weapons go, it was a small one. And it was also a ground burst; an elevated explosion causes a lot more damage,” explained Nevin.
“Do you mean that people will not suffer like those in the Hiroshima pictures,” Anson perked up a little.
“There undoubtedly were, and will be, some casualties, but the ground burst kept down the flash radiation and the wind appeared to quickly disperse the fallout away from Taunton and this mountain range. I don’t know what lies beyond ground zero, probably desert-like terrain, but hopefully it is uninhabited for a good distance. The concussion and shock wave would have flattened anything in its path for a few miles in all directions. Anyone four or five miles away in this direction is probably safe for the present.”
Anson was somewhat relieved that the destruction less than he feared. His zeal started to return, only with greater urgency than he ever showed before. With Taunton so close, only a day away, this disaster may have given them the means they needed to convince King Meire to opt for peace. Anson started rushing around to break camp. Nevin stopped him.
“Wait a minute, Anson. I don’t want you to have false hope. It’s possible
, you know, that this King Meire may be pleased about all this. He wouldn’t be the first leader to use arms like this as a means for power. And there’s Stryker, too. Who knows what his motives are, but you can bet he had some reason for building the damn thing in the first place.”
Anson nodded, but his eagerness remain pitched. “I assume you’re right about Stryker, Nevin. We will have to deal with him. But the King is the one we must convince, just as before. I do not know why I think this, but I presume that King Meire is not an evil man. A king who would be willing to destroy a portion of his kingdom and subjects would already be known far and wide for such traits, and that is not his reputation. Remember what King Lucan said? He knew Meire to be a caring man who would not knowingly jeopardize his people. Such a man would listen to what we have to say.”
By then Corissa arose and crossly rebuked them for not waking her earlier. Didn’t they know that they must get to Taunton more urgently than ever. Anson pointed to her and nodded at the proof of his exhortations about her testiness. It was time to be off. Nevin and Orris traded meager winces.
* * *
Energized by their rest and somewhat cooler weather, they left the promontory behind with Adel’s mountain looming in full view ahead. Each kept to him or herself, their thoughts private and unspoken, which helped them focus on their pace as they negotiated the hard-baked dirt road. After a few hours, they stopped for a rest where the road was joined by a route from the east. Nevin was talking to Corissa when Orris suddenly raised a hand for quiet.
“Shhh! There are riders coming. From the sound of it, they are in a hurry. We should hide!”
Anson was quick to stop that order. “Wait! This road comes from the direction of the blast. Someone may be in need of help. I will greet them; you can hide behind the rocks over there.” The others quickly picked up their belongings and scurried for nearby boulders, knowing it was useless to argue with Anson if he felt people might be in trouble. They kept a clear view of the mage as they hid from sight. Shortly a wagon noisily approached, the driver madly slapping the single horse with the reins. When the driver saw Anson, he immediately reined back on the horse and drew the wagon to a skidding halt.
“You, there!” The driver stood and shouted, pointing at Anson. “We are Gilsum Guardsmen. We have injured men. Can you help us?”
Anson ran over to the wagon and looked in the box. He instantly turned back toward his hidden comrades and frantically waved them to come over. When they did so, they saw four soldiers in the wagon box suffering from various burns, abrasions and contusions. A crude attempt at first aid had not been very successful as some wounds continued to bleed and the men were in shock.
Anson immediately started ministering to the one most seriously injured, calling for cloth strips and something to use for splints. Corissa and the driver, who was not badly hurt, followed Anson’s directions as they tended to others. Orris, however, backed off.
Nevin stopped tearing strips of cloth as he saw Orris withdraw. Nevin jogged over to Orris and spoke low, “You surprise me, Orris. I thought you would be the last of us to be squeamish. These men have a good chance of surviving.”
“I’ve seen far worse than this, Sir Nevin, many times over. I have held together the very guts of men with bellies sliced by Gilsum swords, just to let them get a few more breaths to say their final words. It is for those men that I cannot aid these enemies.”
“Orris, the men in that wagon over there may be soldiers, but they were not injured in any battle. They were battered by flying debris from the shock wave of the bomb’s explosion. Besides, what difference does it make? We came here to end the fighting, not continue it. If you haven’t come to terms with that by now, maybe you should go back.” Nevin left the Antrim soldier to rejoin the others attending the injured.
Orris was vexed by Nevin’s words. Did he share the deep commitment the others felt? Was he there only because his King had ordered him? Did he, in fact, deserve to be considered one of their Alliance if he could not bury his enmity with Gilsum. The answers came while watching Nevin, Corissa and Anson hasten to ease the suffering of these Guardsmen. He gradually realized the importance of his role was just now playing out. If they were to succeed, veteran soldiers like him would have to retire their swords and leave the war behind them. Such was a soldier’s legacy in all times and all places. He walked over to the wagon and stared at the injured men. They were all conscious, but their uniforms were dirtier than a good soldier would allow; their bodies battered and eyes glazed, perhaps more from their inability to understand what happened than their injuries. Orris put out a hand to steady himself against the wagon. With a sudden but decisive move, he climbed aboard the wagon and started helping Corissa treat a broken leg. Nevin saw the effort and gave him a nod.
The youthful soldier who drove the wagon watched in dull deference as Anson directed the makeshift triage. To anyone who would listen, he alternated between expressing his gratitude for the aid and asking if his comrades could make the four-hour ride to Taunton. When the last of the bandages were tied, Nevin edged over and asked his name, which was Berl. He compliantly answered Nevin’s questions about the blast, confirming they had carted some “device” to a small isolated village, which they left right after their captain had tripped the damnable thing. Being the only able-bodied one who had escaped injury from the “hellacious storm,” except for a swollen eye, Berl had done what he could to help his comrades but the demands were beyond him. Three had died, including their captain.
Nevin put his hand on Berl’s shoulder and said his captain would be proud of the job he had done. With that memory recalled, Berl started to lose his tenuous composure. His chest heaved once or twice as he seemed to flash back to some private moments, then he covered his face and started incoherently cursing the army and himself. Seeing that Berl’s catharsis could not be held back, Nevin put his arms around the lad, who stood barely more than waist high next to the much taller man. Berl struggled at first but lost himself in deep sobs as he buried his face against Nevin’s shirt. To Nevin, Berl seemed more like a boy scout than any serious type of soldier, and he hugged him tightly until the youth’s emotions were drained. Orris came over to help out, the older soldier knowing the right words to ease the younger one’s guilt.
Nevin, meanwhile, had caught sight of Corissa, sitting on the ground exhausted. He remembered what Tharbor had said about her feeling ill and realized he had not made sure she took the herbal medicine the dwarves gave her. Angry with himself, Nevin made an appeal to young Berl to allow them all to crowd into the wagon for the ride to Taunton. Still unsure of himself, but showing a semblance of composure after Orris’ reassurances, Berl thought it a good idea as how the injured men might need further treatment along way. Looking up with uncertainty at the unusually tall man, Berl stammered, “Well, Sir. If you sit on the driver’s seat with me we can probably squeeze the rest in the box.”
Nevin quickly shared this idea with the others and all agreed, Anson especially pleased because it provided the best available opportunity to get inside the gate and possibly into the castle. Nevin took his place next to Berl, the others crowded into the box with the injured soldiers as the wagon creaked away.
Chapter 19
First Minister
With Nevin situated next to the driver and Corissa curled up in exhaustion, there was no conversation among the injured or any others. The monotony of the drive was broken only by an occasional groan from an injured man, which was immediately tended by Anson or Orris. Compounding the tedium, the drive took longer than expected because Anson insisted the horse, which he seemed to know was near collapse, not be pushed too death. Finally, with the first signs of dusk, the capitol city of Taunton came into full view.
Like the Antrim capitol, Taunton was walled all the way around except the back of this city was flush with the sheer mountainside. Judging by the length of the walls, Nevin estimated that Taunton was considerably larger, covering about twice the area as Sartell.
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When they approached the huge front gates, they were met by a trio of uniformed Guardsmen. The lead guard talked with Berl to get a quick explanation of their troubles, then checked each of the injured soldiers, making conversation with those sufficiently conscious. Next, the guard looked over each member of the Alliance, obviously looking for weapons or any signs for potential concern, holding his gaze longest on Nevin. When he was satisfied there was no threat, he said, “We appreciate the care you provided our fellows. I do not quite know what happened to them, but they were knocked about pretty good. I would say you saved the life of one or more. I will see that you are taken to the armory where you will be shown a proper thanks and a curist can tend to these men.”
Each member of the Alliance kept silent for the stroke of luck that got them admitted past the gate. By remaining with the wagon, they could avoid contact with passersby and reduce attention that Nevin might attract. As the wagon passed through, Nevin saw the city open up in front of him. It was magnificent.
Taunton was clean and orderly. People milled about an open market area and activity seemed normal around small adjacent shops. People made way for the wagon but paid little heed unless they spotted Nevin, though their reaction was much milder than the attention he had received elsewhere. He was still a larger man by far than any of the locals, but apparently not so extraordinary that he caused much of a stir. Considering their need to minimize undue attention, it was a boon and Nevin was grateful for it. Still, something about the populace seemed a little odd until he realized there were few children around. Only a handful were seen, and those were either swaddled or kept close to a solicitous parent.
They shortly turned onto the street that headed toward the castle. It was much a larger central avenue than the one he had seen in Sartell, Nevin wondered whether this reflected a difference in wealth between the two kings. Meire’s castle had three main stories with numerous turrets and towers rising to higher levels, ideal for long distance lookouts. The rear of the castle backed directly into the side of the mountain, also ideal for fortification. As the failing horse trudged on, its pace noticeably slowing further, Nevin guessed that Taunton was a lot larger than he expected for this mountainous terrain. He wondered how enough food was available for rhe populace. Probably by trade, but for what goods in return? His curiosity was once again piqued.
The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology Page 33