Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  "What in the world is this?" Gawl asked.

  "I call it a farsighter."

  "Fascinating," Gawl said. "An interesting group of companions you travel with, Siward." He turned back to Daniel and added, "When we have the luxury of more time, perhaps you'll explain how this 'farsighter' works. I would love to learn more about it."

  "How long do you think we have?" Akin asked.

  "Ten minutes, no more," Father Thomas replied.

  Gawl nodded. "Ride," he said, wheeling his horse around.

  Despite their lead, progress was painfully slow. The road was narrow and not in the best of conditions. Most times they were only able to ride two abreast, and often they had to fall back into a single file. Sparse vegetation dotted the hills on either side of them, eventually giving way to bare rock. They urged their horses forward. Uncon­sciously, Mathew reached back in his saddle to where his sword was tied, reassuring himself that it was still there.

  Twice, as the elevation of the road increased, they were able to catch glimpses of the mercenaries coming up rap­idly behind them. There was little doubt they were gain­ing ground. Next to him, he could see Collin surveying the terrain. Mathew didn't have to ask to know what his friend was thinking.

  "There are too many," he said.

  Collin glanced at him and pointed partway up the slope at some bushes. "There's enough cover up ahead by that crystal formation on the ledge for someone to conceal themselves. When the Vargothans ride through, I can slow them down."

  Mathew shook his head. "You'd only get off a few shots."

  "It would buy the rest of you some time," Collin replied.

  Mathew shook his head.

  "Well, we have to do something," Collin insisted.

  A minute later the problem was rendered academic. They reached a bend in the road and saw another twenty-five mercenaries riding toward them over the crest of a distant hill, no more than five miles away.

  Father Thomas threw up a warning hand and skidded his horse to a halt. The rest of the party reined in behind him. Gawl saw it at the same time and muttered some­thing under his breath.

  "Trapped," Fergus said, unslinging his bow.

  Mathew looked at Collin and saw he was doing the same thing.

  Father Thomas guided his horse around in a circle, seeking some means of escape. Going up was out of the question. They'd make easy targets for the Vargoth archers. The way back was blocked, as was the road before them. But unless they got through to warn their people, the Elgarian army—and Elgaria itself—was doomed. Mathew gripped the reins so tightly they hurt. That was the mo­ment he made his decision. He walked his horse slowly over to Lara, who had been watching him carefully all the while, and asked, "Do you still have the ring?"

  Her large brown eyes held his for a moment before she loosened the top button of her blouse and pulled the leather cord out over her head. She handed it to him with­out a word.

  Near them, Gawl rumbled, "Give up be damned, Si-ward. I have no intention of swinging from one of those ropes on that ridge. If I'm going to die, I'll take as many of these maggot-eating Vargothans with me as I can."

  "I'm sorry I got you into this, my friend," Father Thomas replied softly.

  "We're not dead yet."

  Mathew could hear the sounds of swords being drawn, but he was still looking at Lara. He was vaguely aware of men shouting and the clash of horses' hooves on the road behind him.

  Mathew untied the knot and pulled the leather cord through the rose gold ring. It dropped into the palm of this hand. The metal felt cold to the touch, colder than he re­membered. He looked down, willing his hands to stop shaking.

  Then Lara smiled at him, and he smiled back.

  Pulling his eyes away from hers, he let the leather cord slip through his fingers to the dusty road. He put the ring on the fourth finger of his right hand. The familiar chill was there again.

  "Mathew," Lara said quietly to him.

  "It's all right," he replied. "Tell the others to keep back."

  "Mathew," she repeated more urgently as he pulled on his reins and began walking his horse back up the road to­ward the mercenaries.

  The others shouted at him, but Mathew ignored them, concentrating only on what he had to do.

  Two hundred yards from his friends, he dismounted and slapped his horse on the rump, sending it back to­ward the rest of his party. They were still calling to him. A quick glance in their direction revealed that Gawl had drawn his broadsword. He and Father Thomas stood in the center of the road with their backs to each other. Fer­gus was helping Akin up the side of the slope, toward the sparse cover on the right. Collin and Daniel were pro­ceeding up the opposite side. Only Lara remained in her saddle, exactly where he had left her.

  Far above Mathew, the smoother outcroppings of rock gave way to jagged, more exposed surfaces. He looked back in time to see Abenard Danus and his men emerge from the shelter of the trees at the far end of the road. When they spotted him, they immediately reined in their horses, wary of an ambush. The commander of the Tyraine occupation force and Colonel Vanko dismounted and began walking toward him, searching the area care­fully with their eyes. When they were within fifty yards, they stopped.

  "The boy from the ship," he heard Vanko say. "Not playing the drunken seaman anymore, are you, boy?"

  Mathew didn't answer.

  "You're Mathew Lewin, aren't you?" Vanko called out, his hands on his hips.

  "I am," Mathew called back.

  "Give up. You have nowhere to go, boy. There's a full patrol of our men coming up the road behind you as we speak. Why don't you throw down your weapon? Tell your friends to do the same and you'll find us merciful."

  "Like you were merciful to the women and children along the ridge?"

  It was Danus who replied. "War is hard, son," he said.

  "We have no desire to kill you. We're only following or­ders. Throw down your weapon and we'll let you live."

  "What about my friends?"

  "We'll let them live as well," Vanko answered, too quickly. "We're just after the ring."

  "Why?" Mathew called back.

  Danus shrugged. "It's not for me to say. I'm just a sim­ple soldier doing his duty."

  While they were keeping him occupied, four Var-gothan archers were stealing their way up the sides of the slopes, using the shrubs for cover. Behind him, Daniel called out, "Mat, there are two on your right and another two on the left."

  Mathew nodded, without turning around. "Tell your men to fall back, Colonel," he called out.

  That brought a bark of laughter from the mercenary. "And what are you going to do if we don't?" Vanko said. "Stop all thirty of us by yourself? Face it, boy, you don't have to be a soldier to understand the odds. At least this way you'll have a chance of staying alive—which is more than your Captain Donal man­aged to do. You may have seen him hanging on the ridge on your way up."

  Mathew felt his stomach turn over at Vanko's words. Captain Donal dead? His mind began to race. Why were they were still talking to him when they could have rid­den them all down in seconds? There was something holding them back.

  All of the feelings of hurt and loss of the past few weeks began to flood back into him, building in intensity, until at last those emotions were replaced by something else—something colder and infinitely more deadly.

  "You haven't answered my question," Mathew said tightly. "What do you want with the ring? And whose or­ders are you following?"

  "Lord Karas Duren of Alor Satar, your liege and the ruler of this country," Danus replied, executing a mock bow.

  "Wrong answer," Mathew said softly to himself.

  * * *

  A moment later it seemed to Collin that the mouth of hell suddenly opened in that narrow pass. He had been mov­ing sideways along the slope, hoping to get a clear shot at either Danus or Vanko, to give Mat cover. He had no clue what his friend was trying to do. Either Mat was playing his last trump card or he had completely lost his mind. There were
too many. He knew that. Father Thomas had said as much only a moment ago. Well, at least I'm going to do the same thing as Gawl—take as many of those maggot-eating sons of goats with me as I can, he thought. And then it happened.

  The air in front of Mathew appeared to blur and bend. At the same time, a terrible groaning sound began deep in the earth itself. It seemed to come from the very rocks around them. Suddenly, the ground under his feet heaved violently, knocking him down.

  He saw Vanko, Danus, and the rest of the Vargothans freeze in mid-motion and look around. A tiny pebble went skittering by Collin's right hand just as he was about to stand up. It was followed by another, and then another. When he looked, his mouth dropped open in shock, then he bolted up and ran like he'd never run be­fore. He barely succeeded in getting out of the way be­fore the highest outcropping of rock tore loose and came crashing down on the mercenaries. The tremendous roar nearly deafened him.

  When he thought he was clear of the avalanche, Collin looked back and watched in stunned disbelief as the area of moving air in front of his friend formed itself into a translucent ball of blue fire that began hurtling up the pass, sweeping everything before it like a gigantic wave. The four archers who had been creeping toward Mathew saw it as well. They dropped their bows and broke from cover, fleeing in panic.

  The explosion that rocked the pass caused Collin to lose his balance again. A second later the archers were gone, as if they had never been there at all. All that was

  left was a huge cloud of dust hanging in the air and the crackle of trees burning. Of the Vargoth soldiers, no sign at all remained. They were either burned alive or lay buried under tons of rock.

  Two hundred miles away, Ra'id al Mouli, Kalifar of Ba-jan, and Karas Duren walked among their troops. Duren was dressed that day as an ordinary soldier. Ra'id al Mouli wore his usual black robe trimmed in silver, and the traditional head wrapping of his country. They were discussing Duren's plan to deal with the remainder of the Elgarian army when Duren felt the surge. It caused him to miss a step, and he turned and looked to the south.

  It was the Lewin boy—there was no question in his mind. After their second contact, the boy had succeeded in blocking him, out of instinct, he suspected, as opposed to anything intentional. Whatever he had just done was incredibly powerful, so much so that the barrier between them dropped for a brief moment. Duren felt his presence and instantly knew it was him.

  The first time they touched, the contact had scared him. Duren admitted that to himself, but there was a fas­cination to it. He simply could not believe a common farmer's son possessed that much power in so short a time. It had taken him almost a year. From that brief en­counter, he had learned the boy's name and where he was from, while Lewin learned nothing in return. The young fool didn't even know what it was he possessed. Duren had sensed that. The boy had no idea what he could do with the ring, which made him the stronger of the two.

  When they mind-touched for a second time, only two weeks later, Duren was shocked to discover how pro­foundly Mathew's mastery of the ring had increased. He could sense intelligence there, along with sorrow, fear, and uncertainty. Some of those he attributed to the recent murder of the boy's father. He supposed such things were only natural. Though the Orlocks had failed to retrieve the ring, the information they brought back about young Master Lewin was invaluable. To know your enemies' weakness was everything.

  In his mind, Duren reached out for his sister. Her voice replied almost immediately.

  "What was it Karas? I felt it all the way out here."

  "It was him—the boy."

  "But so powerful! I'm in the middle of the ocean. We 're still at least a full day out."

  "Get here as fast as you can. We will meet the Elgari-ans tomorrow. With you hitting them from the east and Vargothfrom the rear, we'll crush them out of existence."

  "But Karas, shouldn't we be concerned with him? Anyone with that much power. . . it's frightening."

  "The young fool has finished himself. He'll need days to recover, and days are not what we 're going to give him, Marsa. Besides, he's no match for the both of us together."

  "Karas—"

  "Just get here as fast as you can!"

  Duren broke the link, abruptly aware that Ra'id al Mouli was speaking to him.

  "My lord, are you quite all right?"

  "Yes . . . yes . .. just a brief communication with my

  sister."

  "Indeed? And the queen and the army of Cincar are—"

  "Still at sea, but they should arrive sometime tomorrow to join us," Duren said.

  Ra'id al Mouli shrugged. "With or without them, I fear the Elgarians' fates are sealed. Our forces are far greater, and with the mercenaries coming up their backs, there is little they can do. It is unfortunate that it should have come to this."

  "Unfortunate, Kalifar?" Duren asked, surprised.

  "Unfortunate," al Mouli repeated. "This was not a situ­ation of our making. I have no desire to shed more blood for its sake alone. What the Orlocks did at Anderon and at Melfort was unconscionable."

  Duren smiled. "The Orlocks have their own reasons

  for what they do. And it does not always coincide with our own. They are a useful tool—a means to an end. You are too soft, Kalifar, as I have said before."

  "I do not understand why they returned after these many years," al Mouli said. "I am truly perplexed."

  "As I have said, their purposes are known only to them. Perhaps they see an opportunity for their species in this conflict. Who knows?"

  "But it is well known how the Orlocks feel about the world of men, my lord. After thousands of years, I find it unlikely their mind-set should have changed—unless you can provide me some insight on the subject."

  Duren spread his hands expansively. "My dear Kalifar, their needs are not so much different from our own. Per­haps they have grown weary of living in caves under the earth. Perhaps they wish nothing more than to share the sunlight and warmth of day in a country of their own."

  Ra'id al Mouli felt his stomach constrict. "But... they are eaters of human flesh."

  His voice was barely more than a whisper as the enor­mity of Duren's plan became clear.

  "We all have our little faults," Duren remarked.

  "What have you promised them?" al Mouli asked slowly.

  "Oh .. . southern Elgaria," Duren replied, picking a bit of lint from his clothes.

  In a nearby tent, Armand Duren and his brother Eric looked up from the map they were studying as they is­sued last-minute instructions to their generals.

  "The Kalifar seems a bit out of sorts this morning," Eric observed.

  Armand let out a long breath. "Then I suppose it wouldn't be a good time to mention it was you who raided the border towns in the first place," he answered, keeping his voice low.

  "Perhaps not, but I did think my men looked rather striking as Bajani soldiers, didn't you?"

  * * *

  Mathew watched the dust settle softly back to earth. Nothing moved beneath the mass of rock that had come crashing down into the pass. The mercenaries were all dead—buried. When he decided to form the fireball, he had no idea whether it would work. He just pictured it in his mind. He felt very much alone. Just then the headache was already beginning. So was the fatigue, but he'd ex­pected that. The more he used the ring, the more he'd grown accustomed to the weakness that seemed to follow right after each use. In the past it had usually disappeared after a few minutes. The explosion in the stables had taken him almost half a day to recover from.

  Things seemed to be spinning around him. He heard footsteps and turned to see whose they were. If Collin didn't grab him, Mathew would have fallen to the ground. Lara was there too. She put her arm around his waist. Even dressed in men's clothes she looked pretty. She smelled good too. His mother smelled like flowers, he recalled. Try as he might he couldn't quite get his mind clear.

  Walk, he told himself.

  That was what he had to do. With a quick
glance over his shoulder at the tons of rock lying across the path, he put one foot down, then another. Collin walked on one side of him and Lara on the other.

  With each step, Mathew's legs grew steadier under him. Except for the headache, his mind was clear by the time he reached Father Thomas, who watched him care­fully as he approached. So did Gawl. He realized that they weren't sure what to expect. He felt perfectly all right, he just wished they would stop looking at him as though he'd sprouted a pair of horns. The silence became uncomfortable. "Maybe you should ask Harol Longworth for your money back," Mathew said. "I think he sold you a defec­tive ring."

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Akin visibly relax and smile. So did Fergus. Then Father Thomas chuckled

  and reached out, pulling him to his chest. Soon everyone was laughing and talking at the same time, patting him on the back. Only Gawl was still frowning.

  "Perhaps you can explain to me what just happened, Siward," he said. "I know what I saw, but I find it difficult to believe in magic," he said quietly, dangerously.

  "It's not magic, my friend," Father Thomas said, kiss­ing Mathew on the forehead. He turned to face Gawl. "What you just saw was the science of the Old Ones— the Ancients. I'm certain of it now. None of us are sure why or how, but I think Mathew has somehow tapped into it."

  "How after thousands of years?"

  "I don't know," Mathew said, answering Gawl's ques­tion. "I wish I did. One thing I am positive about is that this ring is the link."

  Mathew pulled the ring off his finger, placing it in the palm of his hand, and held it out. Gawl's eyes narrowed but he pointedly made no move to touch it.

  "I think we should discuss this later," Fergus said. "We still have the problem of the other patrol. They should be here any moment."

  "And we can't go back," Daniel said, looking at the op­posite end of the pass, now blocked by boulders.

  Mathew was about to say something when he felt a tremendous blow to his shoulder that knocked him to the ground. His left arm suddenly went numb and there was a searing pain in his back.

  Lara screamed.

  Painfully, Mathew rolled to his side and saw Collin nock an arrow and fire. A second later Fergus did the same. Pandemonium broke out all around him. When he looked down, blood was dripping from his fingertips. He realized that he'd just been shot. The arrow was sticking out of his chest, just below his left collarbone.