“I’m guessing we’ll find Cale at the bottom,” Nicholas quietly remarked. Leo nodded, trembling at how frighteningly close he had come to joining him there.
After relighting the second lamp, they saw Cale’s dead body sprawled out upon the bottom of the pit. Without hesitation, Nicholas began easing himself over the edge.
“What are you doing?” Leo frantically grabbed him before he was halfway over.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, securing his footing on the unevenly chiseled sides. “Help lower me down. It’s not much deeper than my height. I need to get that key.”
“All right. I’ll follow.”
“No,” Nicholas replied. “I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Megan if you were injured.”
A moment later he dropped to his feet and Leo lowered one of the oil lamps. The shadows dispersed and Nicholas saw Cale’s body, his eyes gazing lifelessly at the ceiling, a small pool of blood beneath his head. He turned away, sickened. He assumed that this pit had been constructed as a security measure should someone unauthorized find the secret tunnel and wander inside. As swiftly as possible, he rifled through Cale’s coat pockets and found the key, relieved that his mission to rescue Ivy might not be in vain after all. He shoved the key in his pocket and handed up the oil lamp to Leo.
“We need to get across,” Nicholas said, searching for footholds to hoist himself up high enough to grab hold of Leo’s outstretched hand. “Unfortunately, there’s no ladder down here to get up the other side.”
“Didn’t think there would be,” Leo said as he felt Nicholas’ hand lock around his wrist. After pulling him up, they both sat and rested, breathing heavily as they contemplated their next step.
“How exactly was Cale going to get across that pit?” Nicholas wondered aloud. “He obviously misjudged where he was before he tumbled inside. But unless he was an excellent jumper, how could he possibly scale the distance?”
Leo looked around, seeing nothing but stone. “No wooden planks to set across it. No ladders.” He scratched his mop of hair, having earlier removed his knit hat as his body warmed from the hike. “I’m guessing Cale arrived at Deshla through this passageway.”
“So am I.” Nicholas stood up as an idea suddenly struck him. “Say, if the Enâri could make one secret door…”
He walked over to the left wall and pressed his hands against the rock. Leo held up a lamp, watching his friend with interest. Moments later, Nicholas felt a slight movement in the stone and turned to Leo, smiling.
“Find something?”
“Just what I hoped for,” he replied, pushing his full weight against the wall as part of it gave way. “Another door. The tunnel within must run to the other end of the pit.”
“Nice work.” Leo handed him the other lamp.
They stepped inside the narrow corridor, walking in single file until they came to a dead end. Nicholas again pushed against the wall until another stone door opened outward on the opposite side of the pit just as he had predicted.
“One step closer,” he said.
“I just want out of this tomb,” Leo replied. “Let’s move.”
They continued on, following the main tunnel and saying little. The path leveled out as they moved beyond the pit, which they took as a good sign. Their anticipation grew with every step, both wondering if they would ever reach the end just as a sudden change of scenery greeted them.
“Look. A real door,” Leo whispered, not knowing who might be waiting behind it.
Built into the stone wall directly ahead was an iron door, its trio of enormous metal hinges on the right secured with large, round rivets. The door handle and locking mechanism was attached to the left side. Nicholas looked at Leo for some reassurance and then removed Cale’s key from his pocket, examining it in the light.
“It’s not the Spirit Box,” he whispered, inserting the key into the door, “but let’s see what trouble is released when I open it.” He carefully turned the key, hearing the low, smooth movement of the locking bolt inside. When finished, he glanced at Leo standing protectively nearby, his hand upon the hilt of his dagger. “Shall we?”
Leo nodded, eager to leave the gloomy confines. After setting the oil lamps on the floor to one side, Nicholas grabbed the handle and slowly pushed the door open.
END OF PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
THE LAST STAND
CHAPTER 104
The Battle of Del Norác
Gray smoke rose from a burning structure in the western district of Del Norác, reaching high into the sky as King Justin’s soldiers and their allies clashed with Vellan’s army. The billowing fumes climbed and then drifted southeast over the Drusala River like a slowly moving snake. The ascending sun burned off thin cloud layers in the late-morning sky, revealing patches of blue above the many skirmishes blazing throughout the city and on its periphery.
Hours earlier, after the launch of fiery arrows against dawn’s pale backdrop, King Justin and his counterparts led the army across the final quarter mile of grassy scrubland toward the city’s eastern border to confront the enemy. But before they had arrived, Vellan’s captains let loose a first strike of their own.
Del Norác was divided into two nearly equal regions by the Drusala River which cut a gently undulating path through the city. Three stone bridges spanned the river, one just inside the western border, one in the center of the city near the garrison, and the third lying outside the eastern edge of Del Norác. The wide, graceful structures were composed of a series of low arches that stretched across the ribbon of water. The easternmost bridge was visible to the left of King Justin’s army as it advanced on the capital. But before the frontlines of horsemen and the companies marching behind them had reached the city, a swarm of Vellan’s troops on horse and on foot poured out of the barracks located on the river’s southern banks. They made for the eastern bridge, preparing to cross and storm the approaching army on the other side before it could reach Del Norác.
At that same moment to the north, another large company in Vellan’s army issued forth through the front gates of his stronghold in Mount Minakaris. Those troops marched around the northeastern border of the city and made directly for King Justin’s soldiers. Though they would arrive a few minutes after their comrades now crossing the eastern bridge, King Justin feared that a combined strike from both north and south outside the city might result in significant losses right from the start from which they might never recover.
“Divide and conquer?” King Cedric asked his fellow monarch as they trotted across the grassy, tree-dotted expanse. Accompanying them was the wizard Tolapari.
King Justin nodded, signaling his nearby captains to approach. “We need to breach the city and dilute the impact of Vellan’s first shot. I’ll lead a charge and punch through the eastern border, making for the garrison. Cedric, you and Tolapari must take a force and head off the raid coming from the mountain.”
“Captain Tiber, Uland and Torr shall accompany us,” King Cedric replied.
The wizard combed a hand through his hair. “My only wish is that Vellan will step outside his front gate when I get there,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I have not seen that menace since I was his apprentice decades ago. I’d like to show him a few things I’ve learned since then from wizards of higher repute.”
“Planning a raid without me?” a voice called from behind. King Rowan rode up alongside the others, smiling with fierce resolve as he greeted everyone.
“We have saved the eastern bridge for you,” King Justin said.
“I accept,” he replied, eager to charge toward the river since those now crossing the bridge included many from the Northern Isles. With him were Captain Grayling and Princes Brendan and William. “We expelled the Islanders once from Montavia. I am eager to do so here as well.”
“You shall have your chance,” King Justin promised. “But we have only moments to act before our path is blocked. Rowan, have Captain Silas and his forces engage the ene
my with you. Gregory and Eucádus shall ride with me. Now onward!”
With that, the trio of Kings separated and transmitted their instructions with eagle-like swiftness. Moments later, the combined armies broke into three units. One headed south to the easternmost bridge under King Rowan’s command. A second veered around the northeast corner of the city with King Cedric at the lead to confront the storm from Mount Minakaris. The third, headed by King Justin, raced directly for the eastern border of Del Norác to push into the city and take the garrison on the river’s edge.
The clashes at the three battlegrounds were ferocious and swift. Swords were raised and arrows flew through the brisk morning air as both sides directed their men where needed during the intense initial moments of fighting. When at the city’s edge, King Justin’s forces stampeded across hard, dirt roads to the interior streets. With Prince Gregory, Eucádus and Ramsey at his side, the King was surprised that the waiting troops were less prepared for an offensive than those crossing the eastern bridge or storming out of Minakaris. He guessed that the enemy had probably assumed their dual strikes from the north and south would have blocked any incursion into Del Norác in time.
The initial resistance proved minimal along the various roads lined with low buildings of wood and stone. After engaging in a few halfhearted charges and perfunctory swordfights, Vellan’s troops retreated farther into the city and took up new positions while awaiting reinforcements. King Justin briefly took leave of his son and trotted down a side street toward the river with a small company of soldiers.
“That was too easy,” Prince Gregory remarked after his father had left, though with caution in his voice. “Vellan was overconfident that our way into the city would be blocked. But I will not savor this minor victory.”
“More enemy soldiers will arrive,” Eucádus replied. He warily guided Chestnut through a narrow lane of dirty stone buildings that funneled the troops into a common area overgrown with grass and weeds. With an open view on the left, he saw directly across the river to the southern side where some of Vellan’s troops were rushing back from the lines that had not yet crossed the eastern bridge. “And here they come now.”
“So much for enjoying our minor victory,” Ramsey said.
“We shall soon have our hands full!” King Justin’s voice boomed as he galloped back toward the common. He pointed in the direction from which he had just traveled. “From there I could see that a third of the troops at the eastern bridge had been redirected back into the city, no doubt making for the central bridge. This fight is not over.”
“Father, I’ll take a contingent and drive away those on the run on this side of the river before they can return,” Prince Gregory said. “We’ll thin the herd before rejoining you.” He rode off to gather his troops amid the rising volume of clanking swords nearby.
King Justin indicated for Eucádus to accompany him to the garrison. “Time to unleash that same spirited fire as you did in the Citadel,” he said, recalling Eucádus’ verbal battle at the war council with the emissary from Harlow. “Ramsey, you missed quite a show.”
“That spirit served me well in Rhiál,” Eucádus replied. “I’m ready to fight.”
“Count me in, too,” Ramsey said.
“Then let us ride together!” King Justin cried, his words rising on a cool breeze as he signaled for all to press on and follow him.
King Rowan, in the meantime, along with Captains Silas and Grayling, led their troops to the eastern bridge as the enemy crossed the Drusala to attack the northern bank. On the King’s command, Silas and Grayling each led a contingent of soldiers, both horsed and on foot, in different directions. They swept wide arcs across the grassy scrubland to points on the riverbank opposite each other from where the bridge touched land. Vellan’s troops advanced in frenzied fashion as they streamed off the bridge. Heavily armed Islanders and cloudy-eyed natives of Kargoth and elsewhere attacked as whistling arrows and the pungent smell of blood mingled in the air.
Any organized offensive on either side, however, quickly broke down as several heated battles took on lives of their own along the riverbank and on the bridge. Other skirmishes broke out across the grassy swath, among the scattering of trees and shrubs or upon hillocks and low outcroppings of rock. Prince William gazed upon the raucous confrontations as he and Brendan sat upon their horses on a small rise north of the bridge in the company of their grandfather. King Rowan, assessing the initial clash, consulted with other captains about repositioning the troops as a dozen soldiers on horseback vigilantly kept guard over him and his grandsons.
“This reminds me of the battle below King Basil’s estate,” William told his brother amidst the echo of ringing metal blades and the shouts of men. “I didn’t know if I would survive that day.”
“How about today?” Brendan gazed upon him with newfound respect. Though William was two years his junior, he felt that his younger brother appeared the wiser and more self-assured of the pair.
“I feel more or less the same,” he replied with a faraway look as mental images of Lake LaShear were superimposed over the Drusala River. He turned to his brother. “But I’ll know for sure once Grandfather gives us permission to join in the fray.”
Brendan was surprised by the casualness William displayed regarding the unfolding battle. Though he realized his brother had matured much in the last few months, he hoped that William wasn’t eager to fight to prove himself an adult, or worse yet, to make, in his mind, amends for his actions in the cabin when Arileez had attacked.
“After Grandfather conveys his final orders, he’ll take to the fight and we shall accompany him,” Brendan said. “But not a moment sooner, just as we’d promised.” William sighed with impatience and Brendan couldn’t help but grin, seeing hints of his more recognizable younger brother again. “Grandfather lost me once, Will. He had to watch Mother endure the grief of my death which must have broken his heart to no end.”
“That’s why we should have sent word to Mother that you’re alive. Imagine the depth of her pain still to this day.”
“Grandfather and I agreed that until this fight is over and our fates are determined, we’ll withhold the news of my current state,” Brendan insisted. “It would be beyond cruel to tell Mother that I’m alive while war wages on, only to have me struck down again and make her grieve all over. It would be the death of her.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he muttered.
“I am right, including respecting Grandfather’s request that we keep out of battle until the last possible instant. But I assure you, we shall have our moment.” The two princes saw King Rowan nod to his captains and send them on their way with new orders. “Perhaps sooner than you think. Here he comes.”
The King guided his steed toward his grandsons as the men keeping watch moved in closer. “I’ve provided all the insight I can,” he said, indicating his troops spread out across the field. “It is in their hands now, so let us join our fellow warriors with haste.” King Rowan noted a hint of a smile upon William’s face which the young prince quickly suppressed. “But not reckless haste,” he cautioned.
“We’ll follow wherever you lead,” Brendan replied as William nodded in agreement.
“Your orders, sir?” one of the soldiers inquired.
King Rowan surveyed the battlefield one last time, noting the fierce fighting close to the bridge. “Captain Grayling’s men have taken the upper hand by converging on the bridge, preventing half of Vellan’s troops from crossing. That situation looks under control.” He pointed to an area along the riverbank east of the bridge where Captain Silas and his soldiers were making a determined stand among a scattering of trees and high grass. “Let us make our charge there and give Silas some assistance.” King Rowan unsheathed his sword and raised it high in the morning light. Brendan and William mirrored their grandfather’s action. The King pointed his weapon toward the Drusala. “Onward, for Montavia and all the free lands of Laparia!”
His steed bolted toward the
riverbank with Brendan, William and the other dozen soldiers following. The rumbling of their horses rose in volume like a swift and growing thunderstorm ready to unleash its fury.
Minutes earlier, King Cedric peeled away several companies from the right flank of the coalition army. They charged around the northeast corner of Del Norác and then directly toward Vellan’s soldiers pouring out of the main gates of Mount Minakaris. With Captain Tiber and Tolapari at his side, the King thrust his sword into the air and called out a charge for victory. The army defiantly advanced, some on horseback but most on foot, entering the farmland and grassy fields lying between the mountain and the northern edge of the city. Morning sunshine streamed down through a thin layer of clouds, highlighting an array of swords, short spears and tightly strung bows at the ready. But as the men prepared to collide with the seemingly endless line of soldiers still marching out of Vellan’s stronghold, a flash of doubt flickered in King Cedric’s mind. He briefly wondered if this might be a symbolic charge only, a last swift stand to the death.
The inevitable clash materialized like a strong wave pounding a stone breakwall. The equine lines, stretching across the width of the field, ripped through Vellan’s front forces with explosive fury. King Cedric, Captain Tiber and Tolapari guided the center lines into the eye of the storm while Uland and Torr led the remaining troops to opposite ends. Sharp blades quickly met flesh and the maelstrom turned bloody. The wails and groans of the wounded on both sides soon blanketed the battlefield.
“They pour out of the mountain like a colony of spike ants!” Tolapari shouted to King Cedric. His sword quickly cut down an enemy soldier in his path. “And just as annoying, too!”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 165