Maurious caught the staff in his hand and leaned on it, looking his old, gentlemanly self.
“Some would say so,” he answered, as Rhoie struggled against his crutches to reach his pants. Only then did Liam notice a small blade protruding from the top of his staff. Maurious tapped the staff once on the floor and the blade disappeared.
Rhoie finally managed to awkwardly pull up his pants with one hand, dropping one of his crutches in the process. He looked down at his neatly sliced belt and trouser fabric, while the nearby soldiers started laughing.
Argus had apparently heard them, and sounded quite agitated, “When you are done playing with your friends, brother, I believe we have an appointment.”
“Coming,” Maurious called, then muttered, “Pompous ass,” as he walked towards the stairs at a leisurely pace.
~Æ~
It was shortly after dawn when a gruff soldier walked up to Lyra and cut loose her bindings. Her abilities had kept her from suffering hypothermia, but she was still quite cold and shaken with the experience.
“Now, don’t you say nuthin,” the soldier ordered, nervousness registering on his voice.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” she answered, and saw his eyes grow wide with fear.
The soldier led her around to the front of the tent, through the empty conference room and back to Arconus’s sleeping quarters.
“Now you don’t say, nuthin, okay,” he repeated. “The King ordered you to follow with Tiffany. We got ten guards watchin you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t say nuthin!” he said, a scolding finger in the air.
She put her hand over her mouth in mock shame. The soldier walked off in a huff.
Lyra hurried in to Tiffany, who was slumped on the edge of the bed. Her expression was blank, but there was no sign of drug use. Lyra held her in her arms.
“Did he hurt you again?” she whispered.
One of the guards in the room shifted uncomfortably.
“Give me back my pain,” she answered.
“What?” asked Lyra, now looking into her eyes.
Tiffany looked straight back at her. “Give me back my pain.”
XLII
With earthquakes and thunder, or with footfalls of shadow,
the will of the fates shall be wrought.
– The Tomes of Æhlman
“I’m sure she’s all right,” Rhoie said to Liam.
“Thanks, Rhoie. I’m sure. How’s the leg?”
“Painful, how’s the face?”
“Same.”
“You know, you and Blade are supposed to be with the wounded right now.”
“We know,” he said. “Don’t worry, we have a plan. Look, Maurious is walking into the arena.”
Maurious strode to the centre and tapped his staff on the arena floor. The battle had begun. The smoke from the fires was getting thicker. Argus approached Maurious from the other end of the arena, twirling his staff slowly and deftly until he reached Maurious. Then he attacked with three quick blows, a moment later the smoke churned into the shape of two staffs. One of them attacked in the same movements Argus had just made, and the other staff countered in the same way Maurious just had. The sound of staff on staff made three loud booms.
“Whoa,” Rhoie heard himself say.
The image in the smoke dissipated and was replaced by the images of two dragons who flew around the arena and then charged one another, their forms exploded in another loud crash at the moment of impact. The smoke dispersed again, revealing the two brothers clashing. Their swirling bodies and swinging staffs were a near blur. Again, the moves were replayed in the smoke, but this time their full bodies were depicted. Again, every connection between the staffs was accompanied by loud booms that reverberated through the sky.
“Maurious was right,” remarked Liam. “It is quite a show.”
“I don’t think Argus wants anyone to miss it,” said Rhoie.
The image of the brothers’ faces emerged in the smoke in near perfect detail, each with an expression of determination and intensity.
“No,” said Liam. “It can’t be.” Liam then leaned over the balustrade to examine the fighters.
“What is it?” asked Rhoie.
“Argus,” answered Liam. “I believe I knew him by a different name.”
“Yeah, Maurious said something about that. They change their names from time to time.”
After a vision of two lions grappling with one another evaporated in the smoke, another image of the fighters’ faces appeared.
“Yes, it is him. It’s Palmag.”
“Who is Palmag?”
“He’s the one who recruited and trained us.”
“Trained who?”
“The Sha’grath.”
~Æ~
For three quarters of an hour they fought; circling each other, one attacking the other, the images of their moves replayed in the smoke. In between sallies, different images appeared, not only of dragons and lions, but also of gods, goddesses, demons and monsters, accompanied by loud shrieks and booming explosions.
Then Rhoie heard another sound coming from the east wall. It was the sound of falling rubble.
“The siege has begun,” said Rhoie.
“Argus’s smoke and explosions have hidden their siege engines. We’d better get going,” said Blade.
~Æ~
After an hour of fighting, the scarlet moss was losing its effect, and Argus was growing tired. He knew that once the delightful high from the drug and its power to sharpen concentration wore off, it would leave him despondent and exhausted. Argus was satisfied that most of the army was through, and he was about to concede the battle after one more attack. He was surprised to see his brother raise his hand in defeat. Of course, winning was not the ultimate goal, but Argus found himself quite pleased at besting his brother on both fronts.
Argus bowed low. “Well fought, brother,” he said.
Maurious bowed in return. “Well fought. Quite an impressive little sleight of hand,” he said, gesturing to the smoke. “How did you manage the sounds?”
Argus kept the smoke illusion swirling around the arena. He did not want Maurious to notice that the army was not watching the fight. He wanted to be the one to tell him.
“Maybe I’ll teach you the trick of the sounds one day, when this is all over,” he offered.
“It’ll never be over, Argus. Not even long after we are dead.”
“At least this battle is over, and the war.”
“And the war?” asked Maurious. “Is it not a bit premature to declare an end of a war?”
“I think not, brother. You see, while we struggled here and your people were dazzled by my, as you call it, sleight of hand, Arconus’s siege engines were tunnelling beneath the eastern wall. Our entire army is inside the walls even now, plus another thousand mercenaries from Nevulia who joined us just yesterday.”
Argus waited for the shock and look of defeat that he was sure was coming. When it did not come, he grew suspicious. He concentrated on breaking the bond between his mind and the smoke, then suddenly the air cleared around them, and the smoke from the fires burned straight up.
“I see you are correct. There is no one here except the King and his guard.”
Then Argus saw smoke coming from the castle. “It seems they are burning down these ruins. Such a pity. I would have liked to have studied them more thoroughly.”
“No, dear brother. That smoke is coming from the canyon. The fires are burning beneath the city. Beneath the palace, actually, and up there, in the mountains. We made certain to tempt you to the eastern walls for your siege, as far as possible from our point of escape on the western side.”
Argus furled his brow.
“You may have defeated me in battle today, Argus, but not father. He knew what you would do, and provided us with a plan to counter it, and to defeat the King’s army. You may recall, about fourteen hundred years ago father developed a mining technique for the peo
ple of South Braden. We discovered the source of water that used to flow under the entire city, spilling into the canyon as a magnificent waterfall.”
“Sarhani,” Argus muttered.
“Yes, brother, well done. The palace on the water. Now the fires are heating the stone, and when we release the water ...”
Argus held up his hand and shuddered. There was no need for him to finish. He knew that when the cold water met the hot stone, the stone would break.
“The water and the stone. It cannot be!”
“Father was a very clever man, Argus, and very careful in his work.”
Then there was a loud booming sound off to the north-west, which must have been the explosion that released the river.
~Æ~
Arconus was growing impatient with Argus’s display. It had been impressive at first, then boring. Now it was distracting. They had penetrated the wall fifteen minutes ago, and the scouts were telling him there was no one to be found. They had seen some of Foster’s men retreating into the castle, but they were not finding anyone now.
“I’ll tell them to keep looking, sir,” said the runner.
Arconus waved him away. He was sure they would be happy to keep looking, as long as there was loot to be found. He considered pulling his people out, but where else could Foster’s army be? He would consult with Argus once this foolish duel was over.
A few minutes later the illusion did halt, and he watched as Argus and Maurious talked in the centre of the arena. At first Argus’s posture betrayed his smugness, then he started slumping a bit.
“What’s happening here?” he thought aloud.
Then he heard a large explosion.
“Go and fetch Argus,” he told one of the guards, who quickly ran to comply. A moment later he heard a strange rumbling. It grew louder and louder, until it seemed it was coming from under his very feet. Then he heard another explosion from under the castle, and then another and another.
“Argus!” he screamed.
~Æ~
Travis stood with Aunty Jules across the canyon from the palace. They had just finished loading the last of the wagons with supplies and the wounded when they heard the first explosion. They, and a few of those with lesser injuries, judged it was safe to emerge from the trees to watch the spectacle. Then water started flowing from a few of the caverns.
“Is that what is supposed to happen?” Travis asked.
“Just a moment, honey. You’ll see.”
Then they heard another explosion, and another and another. Water shot from the caverns in great bursts, settling into a great, beautiful waterfall.
Aunty Jules said something, but Travis could not hear it over the roar of the water. He assumed it was some clever way of telling him that she told him so.
“Sarhani, the palace on the water,” he said. “I wish you could be here with us, Biff. This is astonishing.”
The palace seemed to be floating on the waterfall, or suspended in the mist, as if on a cloud. This is what Verkleet had meant. It only lasted a moment though. Then the palace tilted on its side. It started slowly tilting towards them, while large pieces of the wall crumbled and fell into the canyon. Without the wall in place, they could see inside to find sections of the residential buildings crumbling in on themselves. Soldiers of the King’s army were scrambling around everywhere. Travis felt a moment of empathy, thinking how horrible it must be for them in this moment, knowing the end was at hand.
Finally the entire palace toppled into the canyon, taking most of the wall with it, along with thousands of soldiers of the King’s army. For more than ten minutes, sections of buildings continued to crumble and slide off the cliff, until it seemed the river had taken its fill of the city. A few buildings remained, and the palace walls on the east, south and west all remained intact, now protecting a great waterfall.
“Damned if the old man didn’t pull it off,” he said sadly. “This will make a hell of an article for your paper, Biff. I’ll see to it.”
~Æ~
Arconus was stunned. He did not understand what had happened, but he had seen the palace tip and then fall over, presumably into the canyon, likely taking most of his army with it. He looked back to the arena. He saw Maurious casually walking westward off the arena floor. He could not see Argus anywhere. He ran out of his tent and circled it, looking for signs of him. Then he saw dust kicking up on the horizon.
“No,” he said to himself, but he knew it to be true. Foster’s army was coming for him.
“You,” he said to the nearest guard. “Ride back to camp as fast as you can and intercept Tiffany and the witch. There they are coming over the rise now.”
The guard paused for a moment, and then he answered, “Of course, Your Highness,” and was off.
~Æ~
It took Lyra a moment to realise what was wrong with the scene before her as she rode towards Sarhani. The arena and the walls of the palace looked the same as they had when they had first arrived there, but now there was no palace or other buildings rising behind it. She had heard the explosions, and she could even hear the waterfall from the camp, but not until now had she known that Verkleet’s plan had worked. They had won. The rebellion had succeeded, and Liam was to be king. She looked behind her, and she could see Liam’s army marching towards them. They were close enough so that she could actually see Liam at the head. A great relief came over her, but she knew the game was not quite over. She considered turning and riding to Liam, but her hands were bound, and she would not leave Tiffany behind.
The poor girl slumped in the saddle beside her. She either did not quite understand, or she did not care, that her tormentor had lost.
“You know,” said Lyra to the lead guard.
“Yes, I know,” the guard said to her in a tone that would not be overheard. “Please don’t speak to me. I know about your magic voice. I know the war is over, and we could just as well turn ya loose. Trust me, I’d like to, but I don’t know how these other boys would feel about it, and ’sides, I took an oath. I’m a man who takes an oath seriously. The King told me to come and intercept you and bring you to him. Now I’m not a thinkin’ man, but I figure he means to get outta here with the two of you ’fore Foster can get to him. He did tell me to get to you as fast as I could, and so I did. I must say though, I don’t recall him sayin’ nothin’ about how fast I got back.”
And they carried at a sluggish march.
~Æ~
As Liam led his army past Arconus’s deserted base-camp, he spotted Lyra riding one of the horses that walked in front of him, her hands bound behind her back. His heart surged with relief, she was alive. Now he must get her back safe. He quickened his pace. One last thing to do.
~Æ~
“What took you so long? What were you thinking, you dolt?” Arconus screamed at the guard, who shrugged in reply. It was too late for an escape now. He would have to face Foster.
“Give me your dagger belt,” he ordered. The soldier unhitched his belt and handed it to him. He hastily fastened it around his own waist, then searched through the vials that Argus had left in a bag on the floor.
“This is the one,” he said to himself. He pulled the dagger from the belt, opened the bottle and poured its contents all over the dagger’s blade. “All right then, let’s finish this.”
~Æ~
The soldiers around the King’s tent offered no resistance, nor did the ones guarding the area. They all knew the war was over. They would not openly commit treason against Arconus, but they were not going to throw their lives away protecting him either. There was only one final matter to be resolved. Arconus stood in the centre of the arena, holding Lyra close to him. A teenage girl stood behind them, looking ragged and worn. Liam continued his march, his army behind him, stopping about ten feet in front of Arconus.
“Well, Foster,” Arconus said, still with a defiant tone in his voice. “It seems you have won.”
“It would seem so,” said Liam.
“What happens next?”
“That depends on you,” he answered. “I am assuming you have a knife at Lyra’s back, likely poisoned.”
“I do,” answered Arconus.
“What is it you want?” Liam asked.
“I merely want safe passage,” he answered. “I want two horses. I will take the witch with me and drop her when we are a safe distance. Then Tiffany and I will be on our way.”
“Does this mean you will accept excommunication?” asked Liam.
“Yes,” he answered.
General Riley stepped to Liam’s ear and said quietly, “If you leave him alive, he could find allies.”
“I know,” he answered. “He probably will, but to me there is no choice in the matter.”
Then he spoke loudly. “Arconus, I will allow you to depart here unharmed, but you will not be taking Lyra with you.”
“Liam, no,” cried Lyra. “You cannot let him take Tiffany.”
“It’s all right, Lyra,” said the girl. “I will go with him. I have been with him a long time. I want to go.”
Lyra looked at the girl with an expression of disbelief.
“All right then,” said Liam. “Arconus, I give you my word that you will be unnaccosted upon your departure. I grant you excommunication. You and Tiffany may have one horse, and you may have a second packed with provisions. You will travel out of Jeandania, never to return, on pain of death.”
“Spoken like a true king, Foster,” said Arconus. “I have your solemn word?”
“You do,” he answered. “Now release Lyra.”
After a moment’s consideration, Arconus slowly released Lyra. Lyra ran to Liam. Liam grabbed her and held her, allowing himself a moment to feel grateful. Then he turned his attention back to Arconus.
Arconus stood with his hands in the air, the knife still in his right hand, looking around to see how Liam and the soldiers would react. When no one approached him, he seemed satisfied. “It seems you are a man of your word. I thank you for your mercy,” he said, and bowed.
With Footfalls of Shadow Page 47