A Place Among the Fallen [Book One of The Omaran Saga]

by Adrian Cole

  Ygromm also enjoyed being able to walk proudly among his men, whispering to them that he had been accepted as an equal. The overmen, he told them, were good, and would not, as some of them seemed to think, devour Earthwrought flesh when it suited them. Yet Ygromm spoke gravely to Brannog. ‘My people are not used to being above ground, Brannog Wormslayer. This is all happening a little suddenly for them.’

  'In the morning we leave for the Direkeep. On our own if we have to.’

  'And these warriors?’

  'Can we go under the earth?’

  'Of course. We are Earthwrought.’

  'I will suggest this to Guile.’

  'He seems prepared to besiege the keep.’

  'I wonder why,’ Brannog mused.

  'You do not trust him?’

  'I am not sure. Why has he followed Korbillian? What course will he follow when we have finished with the Direkeep?’

  'You think these warriors will ride upon the eastern powers?’

  'They are Ottemar's men. Why should they?’

  A shout from a nearby tent drew Brannog's attention. It was the only tent the Earthwrought had wanted, the place where the injured Ilassa had been resting. One of his Earthwrought guards had called to Ygromm. Quickly he and Brannog went to see what had happened. Ilassa had come round for the first time. The Earthwrought had worked their powers on him several times and his health seemed to be mending miraculously. The Earthwrought were delighted with their success, seeing in Ilassa's recovery an exceptional omen.

  'Who are you?’ Ilassa gasped, for the sight of the crowding Earthwrought, lit by their own eerie body-glow, unnerved him.

  Brannog gently pushed through them. ‘I am Brannog, father of the girl, Sisipher.’ He began to explain

  'You must excuse me,’ Ilassa said dazedly, shaking his head. He insisted on getting up to sit on the side of the bed. ‘Where are we?’

  'In the camp of Morric Elberon, the Emperor's warlord.’

  Ilassa sat upright, gasping. ‘Empire! Then we are prisoners!’

  'No,’ smiled Brannog. ‘You fought with Korbillian and Guile against the Deliverers?’

  'Why, yes—”

  Brannog sketched out the details of what had happened, and at the end of it, Ilassa gaped.

  'Then these soldiers are not really enemies of Strangarth? They do not covet our lands at all.’

  'On the contrary, we have a common enemy in the east. You saw them?’

  'Barely. But there is Wargallow—”

  'Korbillian will be with him now. We will follow, as will Guile.’

  'Guile the spy,’ whispered Ilassa. ‘It seems incredible. He was the weakest.’

  'Don't be misled. He has a quick brain.’

  'And Taroc? Did you find his body?’

  Brannog's face clouded. He had not mentioned him. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘We saw nothing of him.’

  Ilassa nodded sullenly. ‘No. Dead, I would think.’

  After an awkward silence, Brannog said, ‘So what are your plans?’

  'What do you suggest?’

  'You must alert Strangarth to events here. Tell him of the east, and of the men who are rising against it. Tell him of the Earthwrought and of Korbillian. And that the soldiers of Morric Elberon—”

  There was a discreet cough at the tent flap, and Ruan appeared, followed by Guile.

  'I heard that Ilassa was awake,’ said the latter.

  Ilassa stood unsteadily. ‘It is good to see you safe.’

  Guile came to him and gripped him warmly. ‘And you are alive! It is amazing! I owe you my life, for you kept me alive on the Swiftwater Bridge. My dread of high places made a fool of me there.’

  'I have seen stranger fears in men.’

  'I can hardly believe you recovered. I saw you fall from the span, and yet Brannog tells me the Earthwrought have pulled you back from death.’

  'It is true.’

  'Well, I will not tire you tonight. But I must say this: we are not at war with Strangarth. Morric Elberon has given strict orders to his men not to incite quarrels of any kind with your king. They are not here to steal his land.’

  Brannog told Guile what he had suggested. ‘I was about to say he should tell Strangarth that the men of Empire are allies.’

  'Good,’ nodded Guile. ‘I agree that Ilassa should ride to his king. Could you persuade Strangarth to send men, Ilassa?’

  'To war on the Deliverers?’

  Guile shook his head, grinning. ‘No need. But I think we must all go eastward soon. Morric is grumbling like an old woman. After all, he has prepared to attack Quanar for some time. But leave him to me.’

  'Then we are united,’ said Brannog.

  'I never doubted Korbillian,’ said Guile. ‘It is wise to share his fears. But are you fit enough to ride, Ilassa?’

  'By morning he will be,’ said Ygromm.

  Guile called to Ruan, who stepped closer. ‘I want you to go with him, Ruan. It is important that Strangarth knows the truth.’

  Ruan paled. ‘Will the Commander —?’

  'Permit it? I think he will see the reasoning.’

  Ilassa smiled. ‘You have my word you'll be safe.’ He turned to Guile. ‘If I can persuade Strangarth to send men, and it will not be easy, where are they to come?’

  'To the Direkeep. We may not have pierced its walls, but until Korbillian is free, we will be camped beside it.’

  Soon afterwards, Guile and Ruan left, and Ilassa sank back, tired yet, but hungry. The Earthwrought provided him with their own strange food, which he wolfed, then fell asleep.

  'Later we will work gently again,’ said Ygromm. ‘He is young and healthy, and lucky not to be tainted. By morning he will be strong.’

  Brannog sat down, himself exhausted. ‘A long day,’ he sighed. ‘Who would have expected so many paths to cross each other?’

  Ygromm nodded. He seemed to want to speak, but hesitated. However, he finally gave voice to his thoughts. ‘It is your daughter you seek?’

  Brannog nodded. ‘I did not say so, for fear of losing your support, Ygromm. I did not want you to think my quest a selfish one. Her safety means much to me—”

  'Of course.’

  'But there are other matters now—”

  'None of them more important than the girl's safety,’ said Ygromm at once. His wrinkled face stared into Brannog's quite openly sincere, and Brannog could have hugged the little man.

  'I think, Ygromm, there will be a storm.’

  'If this man Guile can draw men to him, then the east will have cause to tremble.’

  'Just so,’ Brannog yawned. But his suspicions remained. Why should Guile turn aside from his true purpose to go on Korbillian's perilous trek? The thought still nagged at him as he fell asleep.

  In the morning the camp was humming with activity.

  Brannog found Ygromm's folk ready to travel at once. He met Guile, who was himself ready to ride, and who seemed to have been up since before dawn. He looked a little tired, while beside him, terrifying in his war gear, Morric Elberon looked fresh.

  'We will find our own way,’ said Brannog. ‘We meet there.’

  'Very well. And Ilassa?’

  'Eating heartily,’ Brannog chuckled. ‘He is greatly restored.’

  Guile smiled at Ygromm, whose features looked exceptionally fierce in the morning light. ‘It still seems a wonder that he lives at all.’

  Ygromm bowed, and Guile pondered the strange powers of the little folk. But he was businesslike at once, turning to Elberon. ‘See that they are escorted from the camp and set on their way. Find horses—”

  'No need,’ said Brannog. ‘We travel below the earth.’

  Guile nodded, but he wondered at Brannog. How changed he was, even in so short a time. It seemed like months since they had first met. Brannog had cut an impressive figure at Sundhaven, a man that the entire village had looked up to, but now he seemed to be imbued with something even stronger. The Earthwrought again? What had they done to him? Even Mo
rric has been impressed with him and it took a good deal in a man to impress the huge warlord.

  'As you prefer,’ said Guile.

  Brannog held out his hand and Guile shook it warmly, at once sensing the strength flowing in the man's veins. ‘Will you wait if you are there before me?’

  'I will,’ Brannog agreed.

  'And I for you, if need be,’ said Guile.

  Soon afterwards, Brannog and the Earthwrought were gone as if they had never been, and the soldiers buzzed with chatter about them.

  Elberon was grinning. ‘This continent breeds strange children. I will be glad to go home,’ he laughed. It had taken Guile a long time that night to persuade him that pursuit of Korbillian was the best course.

  'Is Ruan ready for his ride?’

  Again Elberon laughed. ‘Aye! Shaking at the knees. He thinks this is a cruel way to repay him for saving you from the Deliverers.’

  Guile himself laughed. ‘Not so. He is an excellent man. And I think Ilassa will not let us down. Strangarth may be difficult, though. He has lost men to us.’

  'You think he can be persuaded to our cause?’

  'To Korbillian's first. You see, again Korbillian is the key.’

  Ilassa was already checking the horse he had been given, and had pronounced himself well satisfied with it to Ruan. Guile noticed that the two men seemed to respect each other. Elberon, however, had told Ruan that the Earthwrought had worked their magic on Ilassa, and Ruan was now wary of him.

  Guile spoke quietly to the soldier. ‘I would not send you with him, Ruan, if I did not feel certain that he is an ally. He spoke well of Korbillian, and you must be our ambassador in Strangarth's kingdom. Try and bring us men from there.’

  'There is to be war?’

  'On the eastern powers, first.’

  'And Wargallow?’

  'Less important. When Strangarth understands that we are opposed to the eastern powers, he may well join us.’

  'I will do my utmost.’

  'Then meet us at the Direkeep.’ Guile went then to Ilassa and they shook hands for the last time. ‘There will be strife,’ he told him. ‘Strangarth cannot stay out of this quarrel now. He must know that it won't be long before the Children of the Mound seek to cross the Swiftwater into his lands in force. We must take the battle to them.’

  'If ever I weaken in my resolve,’ said Ilassa dourly, ‘I have only to think of Taroc and what was done to him. Strangarth thought highly of him.’

  'You know about Taroc?’

  'Ygromm told me.’

  Guile nodded. ‘I have not forgotten. Good luck.’

  Ruan and Ilassa mounted and were gone, thundering back to the north, the trees swallowing them. Guile clapped Elberon on the shoulder. ‘Eastwards, then, Morric! And where is your good humour?’

  Elberon stared eastward. ‘East! We should be riding to our hidden fleet, and sailing west.’

  'When we do, my friend, there will be such a strength in our arm that we will sweep all before us. You may yet become Supreme Commander of the Twenty Armies! Why not? I must use my influence with Ottemar Remoon to win you that honour.’

  Elberon chuckled, snapping down his visor. ‘If Ottemar grants me such a distinction, I would seriously consider it time to depose him. Perhaps a military emperor, a new line, would be called for.’ They rode out to the troops, laughing like children.

  * * * *

  Not long after the guards on the bridge to the Direkeep had signalled to that soaring tower that they had seen what looked like an army approaching, a single rider came across the bridge to where Djemuta waited anxiously. Djemuta did not recognise the man as he rode up to them, not knowing him for one of Wargallow's Faithful. To Djemuta's chagrin, the man came not to him, but to the captain of the bridge, and he could not hear what was said.

  'You are loyal to Wargallow?’ the Deliverer asked the captain, his whisper like steel in darkness.

  Everything depended on his answer, the captain knew. He felt sure that there was rebellion, led by Wargallow. His answer meant survival, promotion possibly, or death. ‘I am.’

  'If necessary, first?’

  'Yes.’ He had said it, cast his life into the balance.

  'Good. Has the man Djemuta spoken to you about Korbillian, whom he brought here?’

  The captain's heart raced. He had answered as desired! There was no retreat now. ‘He has. He questioned Wargallow's actions in not giving the blood of all the prisoners.’

  'Do you accept Wargallow's action?’

  'Yes.’ But he wondered.

  The Deliverer turned away and raised his voice for all to hear. ‘You are all to return to the safety of the keep at once.’ He stood his horse aside to allow the guards to pass. As Djemuta came abreast of him, he checked him.

  'Wargallow has asked me to escort you and your men to special quarters. If you would follow me.’ Like many of the Deliverers, the man was cold, his expression unreadable. He did not elaborate on his orders, merely waited for the captain and his guards to go on ahead, then followed them. Djemuta mounted his horse and called his own men together. For a second he fought an impulse to flee. He knew better than to ask more of the guide, but wondered if he was to be rewarded or punished. But why should Wargallow punish him? However, it was wise to go into the keep, for there were many soldiers coming, far too many to oppose in the open.

  Once inside the keep, the guide led Djemuta and his men downward, a fact that further disturbed Djemuta. The better quarters were higher up in the keep. There were other Deliverers waiting for them and they soundlessly directed Djemuta's men to rooms that looked comfortable enough. Djemuta himself was taken to a room of his own. There were no windows, but a fire burned and the table was set out with enough food for three men.

  'Why this treatment?’ he said at last.

  The Deliverer's face remained set. ‘Wargallow was anxious to see you and your men adequately provided for. Everything you need is here. Later, when you require one, there will be a woman for you. You only need call.’

  'Call? Is this a cell?’ gasped Djemuta.

  'No. But you must wait until fetched.’

  'What of the prisoners, do you know?’

  The Deliverer stood by the door, hand on its external bolt. ‘Which prisoners do you mean?’

  Surely this man knew about the prisoners, Korbillian and the others, Djemuta's mind cried. The entire keep should be alert to the news. But before he could ask more, the door closed and Djemuta knew he had been locked in.

  'Wait!’ he yelled, his left hand thumping on the thick wooden door. ‘I must speak to the Preserver! Do you hear me? It is imperative. He may be in great danger.’

  There was no reply. Djemuta cursed. Was that it? Betrayal? Had Wargallow hidden the prisoners and not informed the Preserver? That so-called power of Korbillian's—had it corrupted Wargallow? To what end? Certainly he had made no attempt to give Korbillian's blood to the earth, and had even allowed the Empire soldiery to take away the man Guile to ensure Korbillian's survival. Why, Djemuta had remarked upon that to the captain of the bridge. As he thought it, he went cold, feeling the trap closing. A test of my loyalty? How can I let the Preserver know what has happened?

  Later, when the girl came, painted and perfumed for the arts of love, Djemuta had thought of a way, using the girl. But he had been away for many weeks and the girl was chosen for her extreme skill. He slipped into oblivion naked in her arms, unaware that his whispered orders would never be carried out, just as he was unaware that she had poisoned him.

  17

  COUNCIL OF WAR

  Morric Elberon raised his hand, halting the long line of troops behind him. Guile sat astride his horse beside the warlord, gazing up at the mystery of the Direkeep. It had been a fast, trouble-free journey, but the climb to their present high vantagepoint had been strenuous. As had been expected, the Deliverers had shut themselves away in their fortress, though Elberon had made no attempt to disguise his coming. Many eyes would be studying his men
, he knew. He looked at the sheer walls across the chasm, but could see no feasible way into the tower, no hint of a weakness in its mocking impregnability.

  He turned to Guile with a typical chuckle. ‘So here we are. And how do you plan to enter? Can you put forth wings? I fancy Quanar Remoon would attempt such a ploy.’

  Guile, though perplexed, also grinned. ‘A remarkable fortress.’ He had not been expecting such a place as this.

  'If you wish to starve them out,’ said Elberon, still grinning hugely, ‘I should remind you that we have enough food of our own for about a week without going back.’

  Guile laughed, about to retort, but his attention was snagged by something behind them. ‘Ah—up on the higher slopes. Someone has arrived too late to scuttle for cover.’

  Elberon's smile faded, his manner at once efficient, prepared. ‘It is Brannog and his strange companion, Ygromm.’

  Guile waved and at once the two figures came down the slope to meet them, dusty and begrimed, but apparently no more worn out by their journey.

  'We have been here a day,’ said Brannog, but it was not meant as a boast. ‘There is a bridge, but it can be drawn back into the keep. Other than that there are two ways to enter.’

  'We have discussed the first,’ grinned Elberon, pointing to the birds that circled high overhead above the mountains.

  'Aye,’ Brannog agreed. ‘But there are also the roots of the tower. Ygromm says that it may be possible for the Earthwrought to get inside and climb. He is willing to lead them.’

  'How many?’ said Elberon, at once the warrior, seeking every possible opening in his opponent's armour.

  'Word has spread in the delvings. As many as several hundred Earthwrought could be mustered. They would be happy to see this Direkeep torn down.’

  Elberon nodded thoughtfully. ‘Weapons?’

  Brannog seemed disturbed. He shook his head. ‘I cannot ask them to go against the Deliverers. They are small, and all they have are crude implements and stones.’

  'Can my men follow them in?’

  'They can try, but you must understand,’ Brannog went on with some embarrassment, ‘they have certain skills. The ability to pass through places where a man could not go.’