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

by Adrian Cole

  'Yet you travel with them.’

  Guile interrupted. ‘That is because Brannog enjoys something of their power.’

  'You understand?’

  'I am beginning to,’ nodded Guile. ‘There is far more power in Omara than I ever knew. I no longer question that.’

  Elberon shrugged. ‘I'll not argue. But if we cannot follow the little folk into the keep—”

  Ygromm's shout cut him off. They looked and saw the stone wall across the chasm move. They studied it as one and within moments saw the bridge of stone being worked across the drop towards them. Their horses shied as the dust rose, but they controlled them as the bridge dropped into place.

  'To arms!’ shouted Elberon and swords flashed out in the sunlight. Elberon smiled. These men he had trained well, and those who came against them in battle would rue it. He watched the opening across the bridge, expecting a company of Deliverer cavalry, probably out to frighten the invader into quick submission or flight. His own sword gleamed. ‘Find cover,’ he told Guile and the others. ‘This is the work I do best.’

  They now saw, however, a single figure riding slowly across the bridge. It was cloaked and hooded in the garb of the Deliverers, but it was huge.

  'Be wary,’ said Guile. ‘This is Wargallow's ground.’

  When the figure reached them, it did not remove its hood, but Guile saw the face. ‘Korbillian!’ he gasped.

  Although his face was as lined and weary as always, the big man smiled. ‘Guile,’ he said simply.

  'Why the unfamiliar clothes?’ said Guile.

  'Secrecy. Many eyes watch. But I am as surprised to see you as you are me.’

  'You are not a prisoner.’

  Korbillian suddenly realised that it was Brannog standing so close by, and his expression changed to one of shock. ‘Brannog!’

  Brannog nodded. ‘Is my daughter safe?’ he said at once.

  'Yes, quite safe. And Wolgren.’

  'What of Wargallow?’ said Guile.

  'There have been many changes. He may no longer be our enemy.’

  Guile's face hardened. ‘You jest. Do we befriend wolves?’

  'You will learn everything. Bring your men, all of them.’

  Elberon's humour had vanished. There was no trace of it in his voice now. ‘To the killing ground? I understand you to be a friend of Guile's,’ he said bluntly to Korbillian. ‘But think what you ask.’

  'I have called a Council of War,’ said Korbillian.

  'War with whom?’ said Elberon.

  'The east,’ said Guile, answering for the huge man.

  'No harm will come to anyone who attends,’ said Korbillian. ‘That is my promise.’

  'Well?’ Elberon looked hard at Guile. Brannog and Ygromm were already prepared to cross the bridge.

  Guile nodded. ‘We came here to get inside.’

  'I suggest the men wait here,’ said Elberon.

  'Very well,’ agreed Guile. ‘But I want you with me. There are things I want you to hear. Things that you will have to repeat to Ottemar.’

  Elberon grunted agreement. He turned and spoke to his immediate subordinates, and the men put away their swords, though not without disappointment. Korbillian then led his small party across the bridge to the keep. Beside Brannog, Ygromm's mind was in turmoil. He knew as soon as he had seen Korbillian that he was in the presence of a terrifying power; the little man's eyes kept stealing glances at those gloved hands as if they were on fire. Would the Earthwise believe this? And now he was going to enter the very Direkeep itself! As he did so, Ygromm felt the pain of the stone, urged up from the earth by sorcery, fused unnaturally into this pile. The Deliverers had never been friends to the Earthwrought, and yet Korbillian, friend to the Wormslayer, had declared Wargallow to be an enemy no longer. Ygromm's faith was to be tested, he knew, but as the stone closed over him, he sensed that far below there were recently killed men, and to add to this mystery, they had been Deliverers.

  Korbillian, still wrapped in his cloak and hood, led the party high up into the keep, following the precise route taken by Wargallow when he had brought him here. A few Deliverers stood silently on stairways, or at junctions where there were numerous corridors, but no one opposed the party. Elberon felt like an animal being led to a slaughterhouse, but Guile had insisted that Korbillian was to be trusted. Did he have such power over the Preserver, about whom so many ghastly tales had been told?

  When they reached the inner hall that had been the Preserver's private audience chamber, they saw, seated at a large table, a number of people. Brannog's eyes went straight to his daughter, and as she recognised him, her heart leapt. She rushed into his arms and he swung her off her feet as easily as he would have a puppy. Ygromm was greatly moved by the open love between father and daughter and at once made a vow with himself that he would protect Sisipher's life with his own. And the girl had power! He knew at once; it was the gift of seeing!

  Wolgren had also come to Brannog and the big man clasped the youth to him in a great hug. ‘You are a boy no longer!’ Brannog laughed. ‘Though it has been such a short time. But tell me, is all well with you both? Have you been harmed?’

  'No,’ said Wolgren softly. ‘Korbillian protects us,’ he whispered.

  Brannog had seen the Deliverer at the table, and guessed at once that this was Simon Wargallow. Brannog thought then of Eorna, whom he had not loved, but whose blood had been spilled through the instructions of this man.

  Wargallow had not moved. He was content to permit these reunions. He wanted no hostility, no mistrust, if his own plans were to come to fruition. Guile glanced at him, trying to read something in those liquid eyes, but could not. Elberon's stare was more obvious. He noted not only Wargallow, but also the dozen Deliverers standing not far away, discreet enough not to be obviously noticeable, but there to protect if need be. Wargallow measured Elberon calmly, guessing him to be high in the ranks. But this man Guile was a mystery. Where did he stand? Ruan Dubhnor had said he was hunted by the Emperor, and due for punishment, and yet he was no prisoner. There was intrigue here, and Wargallow warmed to it.

  When the reunions had cooled, Korbillian, who had thrown off his cloak and hood, called them to order, and they took their places at the long table. Sisipher sat between her father and Wolgren, her hands clasping her father's, as if afraid that he would disappear.

  'Many things need to be explained,’ said Korbillian. ‘For our own reasons, each of us carries his secrets. It may be that we must share them now. Firstly you should know that the Preserver is dead.’ He nodded to Wargallow, who stood up at once and smiled enigmatically.

  'The death of the Preserver is at the moment private knowledge. Only my most loyal Deliverers know of his death. Otherwise it is still believed that he rules the Direkeep. For now it is convenient that the change in control is known only to those who would not oppose it. Hence the need for Korbillian's disguise. I knew that he would be the only man capable of persuading you to enter the keep, and if all those who were watching had known it was him, there may have been certain problems.’

  'What is the change of control of which you speak?’ asked Elberon.

  Wargallow's smile did not flicker. ‘The details will follow. I think, however, we should fully introduce ourselves, and say what we present.’

  Korbillian nodded. He spoke then of his own history, telling the company the things that he had told Wargallow and Grenndak. He spoke of his powers, given to him by the Hierarchs, and of what he intended to do with them. And he spoke of the passing of Grenndak. Each of those present looked at the gloved hands, and Ygromm's face became even more amazed.

  Wargallow spoke next, fluent and convincing. ‘Naturally the things that Korbillian told me came as a great shock. When I saw how Grenndak reacted, when he failed to deny a single charge, I found myself in confusion. There are many Deliverers spread across Omara, and the Abiding Word has been our law for centuries. Some of us, I will say, have wondered about its strictures. Now I am told that to d
estroy power, to deny it, may mean that we open the way for a greater evil, that of the east. I have to let this truth out slowly, for I cannot change the teachings of a lifetime, a score of lifetimes, in a night.’

  'And now you rule the Deliverers?’ asked Elberon. ‘You have become the new Preserver?’

  'I assume neither the name nor the role. But I command them, yes.’

  Brannog took his turn and introduced Ygromm. He recounted his leaving of Sundhaven and what had happened to him, and he spoke in detail of the Earthwrought and of their full knowledge of the east. Ygromm spoke up nervously and expanded this. Wargallow seemed fascinated by the little man, and his gaze made Ygromm waver. It was not possible to forget how this man had sought a way into the Earthwrought delvings, intent on persecution.

  'More truths to shake the foundations of the Abiding Word,’ said Wargallow after Ygromm had again sat down. ‘You all have good reason to hate me. And what of Guile?’ he said with a bland grin. ‘I am surprised to see that you have not been put to the sword by your slighted Emperor. Or is that particular execution merely pending?’

  Guile equaled the smile, explaining to those who did not understand how he had tricked Wargallow with Ruan's help. ‘I am not the Emperor's man of course. My real mission is to give support to his cousin, Ottemar Remoon, whom I would place on his throne.’

  Korbillian seemed puzzled. ‘Why did you not tell me all this?’

  'Because you have been a mystery. I had to protect the interests of the heir. You spoke of, and demonstrated, great power. It has been my hope that when the time came, you would lend this power to my mission, and help Morric Elberon's army depose Quanar Remoon. I still entertain that hope.’

  Korbillian accepted this, not sadly, though he seemed disappointed. ‘I understand. Power is ever the attraction.’

  Guile indicated Elberon. ‘Morric commands the defected army. It is made up of crack troops, trained and primed for war at any time.’

  'Formidable, undoubtedly,’ said Wargallow. ‘A kind of power that I understand. And loyal to the next Emperor.’

  Elberon laughed. ‘First and last, I serve Ottemar.’

  'You appear to follow Guile's instructions,’ said Wargallow.

  Guile grinned. ‘He is advised by me, when it suits him.’

  Korbillian spoke for Sisipher and Wolgren, though Wargallow was not satisfied that he had said everything about them. Why should the girl be with him? Not as a lover, he felt certain.

  'Our company would seem to be complete,’ said Korbillian. Wargallow looked thoughtful, as though, like a man at the gaming table, he was preparing to make a useful throw. ‘I think not. Aren't you forgetting that remarkable bird?’ He directed his level gaze at Sisipher. The bird, he knew, was her concern, and perhaps this was her part in this strangest of companies.

  'You must explain everything,’ Korbillian said to her, knowing that it was better not to keep anything back and thus sew distrust.

  Sisipher gathered herself, encouraged by a look from her father, and began, telling how her relationship with the great owl had developed. Ygromm was nodding to himself, understanding only too well how the girl could communicate with the owl. It made him even more determined to protect her, and he began to look upon her as he would have a goddess. The Earthwise would be overjoyed for here was proof that a sharing with the overmen was the right course of action.

  'And where is the bird now?’ said Wargallow.

  'He has brought his own people to the peaks beyond us. And he has rallied other birds of the mountains, although many of them have already fled to the far west,’ Sisipher told them.

  Guile saw Elberon's amazement. ‘You see, Morric? Power. It is wherever you look! Ygromm's people have it; it is with the very birds of the air. And what do you say to this, Wargallow?’

  Wargallow inclined his head. ‘How can I persist in denying it? It came from Korbillian's world, Ternannoc, is that so?’

  'Yes,’ agreed Korbillian. ‘And it must be used against the power of the Mound. You must all see that. You must put aside your differences, your private wars. You must!’

  As he said this, Sisipher closed her eyes and sat back, listening intently. Everyone turned to her. Brannog had been particularly amazed by her tale of the owl, but here, he knew, was another of the gifts given to her by her mother.

  'Kirrikree!’ said the girl. ‘He is above, and he brings news from the lands of Strangarth. It's about Ilassa.’ She opened her eyes wide and stared at Korbillian in disbelief. ‘But—he died.’

  'I must explain,’ said Brannog.

  'Perhaps,’ said Wargallow, ‘you would wish the owl to join us?’

  Korbillian nodded and Wargallow spoke at once to his men. While he did so, Brannog, with Ygromm's help, told the company how Ilassa had been rescued from the very brink of death. As he finished, light streamed in from a window high up in the vaulted ceiling. Moments later the huge white shape of Kirrikree swooped down. He found a place to perch and studied the gathering with his great shocked eyes.

  Ygromm's eyes were no less astonished, but a silent word from Kirrikree reassured him. Sisipher knew at once that Ygromm could hear the bird as she could. It gave her a sharp pang of pleasure to know it. Later, when there was time, she must talk to Ygromm, for there must be so much to learn from him. For now she relayed Kirrikree's news to the company.

  'Kirrikree says that many birds and creatures of the land have been stirred by the strange happenings in the lands about us. When the stones-that-move and those other grim powers rose up against us, many more creatures abandoned the land and went to the west and north. Kirrikree has spoken to other birds that have come to these mountains and has pieced together an odd tale. It seems that Ilassa and Ruan rode north, but were followed by some evil creature.’ She paused, confused, as if the owl had told her something unthinkable. She shook her head.

  'What is it?’ said her father, putting an arm round her at once.

  'Taroc?’ she gasped.

  Ygromm was nodding. ‘It is what Kirrikree says.’

  'But he died!’ Sisipher gasped. ‘Wolgren killed him.’

  'My knife took him at the throat.’ said the youth. He glanced at Korbillian and Wargallow. ‘You saw?’

  Wargallow agreed. ‘An excellent strike. The man Taroc could not have survived.’

  Brannog shuddered and Sisipher felt the thick arm tremble. ‘Yet he did survive.’ Brannog described the grim pursuit by what Taroc had become and how he had hidden himself in the old lair of the bear. ‘But surely you sent men to destroy him,’ he said to Guile.

  Elberon answered. ‘I had word of that my men used fire, but they found nothing. This creature Taroc had fled into the night.’

  'Then he lived,’ said Sisipher. ‘And remorselessly pursued Ilassa and Ruan. He came upon them by night when they rested briefly in the borderlands of Strangarth's kingdom, and with Taroc were other creatures that Kirrikree cannot describe. They attacked Ilassa and Ruan and would have killed them but for the wolves.’

  'Wolves?’ said Korbillian.

  'There was a pack of them, huge beasts, and wild dogs, too. They fought with Taroc's vile followers and beat them off. And they caught Taroc. Several of them died, but they—” She broke off, shaking as if she could see the ghastly spectacle before her.

  Ygromm stood up. ‘They tore him limb from limb!’ he said. ‘And scattered the enemy. Kirrikree says it was a man who led them and whom they obeyed. He saved Ilassa and Ruan, who are well.’

  'A man?’ said Wargallow.

  'Who commands wolves?’ said Guile. ‘Then we do befriend them!’

  Sisipher had recovered. ‘It was Ratillic,’ she said.

  Korbillian closed his eyes, as if in prayer. ‘Then he has come out of his mountains.’

  'Who is he?’ asked Wargallow as patiently as he could. Was this to be yet another source of power?

  'A reclusive Hierophant,’ said Korbillian. ‘One who once would have been glad to have seen me dead, but pe
rhaps no longer.’

  'No,’ said Sisipher. ‘There is more to this yet. Ratillic went with Ilassa and Ruan before Strangarth himself. There they learned that the king's eastern borders had suffered raids by half-beasts and fiends from the wastes there, more evidence of the eastern powers. Ilassa spoke well of our attempts to gather strength against it, and Strangarth was impressed by Ratillic. It was his eloquence that won the heart of the wily king.’

  Korbillian's eyes flashed open. ‘Won him? His support?’

  'Yes. When he learned of the death of Taroc, and how Ygromm's folk had saved Ilassa, he prepared a hundred of his best men. Ilassa commands them. The king would have sent more, but he needs men to patrol his eastern borders against more attacks. Ilassa and Ruan are on their way.’

  'This is better news than we could have hoped for,’ said Korbillian. ‘And Ratillic?’

  Sisipher smiled. ‘He rides with them, and with him are the wolves. Kirrikree has not spoken to him, but he believes he has finally chosen to join the war against the east. I sense that something has passed between them, though, for in my dreams I heard them arguing.’

  Korbillian nodded. There was a long pause in which they all weighed their thoughts. None of them was more fascinated by the various revelations than Wargallow. He looked at last to Korbillian. ‘Well then, what is it to be? What action do you intend to take?’

  Korbillian sat back with a sigh. ‘I can see nothing but war. We must pool what we have and carry our power across the great Silences to the Mound. I want every man who will come.’

  Ygromm bowed. ‘I will see that the word is spread quickly to all the Earthwise. From every delving the Earthwrought will come.’

  'And I ride with my father,’ said Sisipher, ‘with Kirrikree's people overhead.’

  'Guile?’ said Korbillian.

  'Oh yes, I ride with you, as before. Morric's best soldiers are camped on the mountain.’

  Elberon cleared his throat noisily. ‘It strikes me, as a military man, that this is a rash journey. What preparations have been made? Supplies, camps, routes? How are so many, forgive me, formerly opposed forces to be expected to work alongside each other?’