The second Mathew struck, Marsa d'Elso knew. His face and his mind were familiar to her now. Men were shouting and running in panic in all directions, but she stood calmly on the quarterdeck of her flagship, oblivious to the chaos. It was amazing, fascinating, how strong he was. The boy was tall with a fine face and blue eyes. The
rain had plastered his dark hair to his head and she could see drops of water on his face. There were others with him—another boy, with sandy-colored hair and broad shoulders, and a blond-haired man. Without knowing his exact location, she knew it would be difficult for her. Only a vague outline of the coast was still visible to her, and the storm was making things harder. She would just have to guess, she decided. Her brother, having no direct line of sight, wouldn't be able to help except by finking and increasing her own strength. But Karas didn't seem to be worried, and there were things he knew that she had yet to learn. Above her, a long terrible groan came from a mizzen spar, followed by the sound of wood snapping. It broke loose from the mast and came crashing to the deck, killing a sailor. She stepped over the body and walked to the rail, holding onto it for support. In her head she heard the voice of her brother whisper, "Now!" '
A moment later Marsa d'Elso lashed out with all the strength she possessed.
Two hundred feet below them and more than a mile distant, Mathew saw trees exploding along the Coast Road as bolt after bolt of lightning hit them. He was so shocked he nearly lost his concentration. A second series of strikes tore into the face of the hill several hundred yards from them, sending showers of earth rocketing straight up into the air.
Akin flinched and ducked his head. "Was that you?" he called out over the wind.
Mathew shook his head. "It's her ... and the brother, but I don't think they know exactly where we are." His voice was little more than a croak. Beads of perspiration had formed on his face as he fought back. Mathew's jaw muscles were knotted and the veins at the side of his neck stood out bright blue.
A loud booming crack to their left shattered the air, and the top of an old spruce tree disintegrated in a brilliant flash of light.
"They may not know," Collin yelled, "but it looks like they have a pretty good idea."
He was able to spare a quick glance at the crystals again and saw that their glow had intensified to an angry red.
Ignoring the eruptions shaking the earth around him, Mathew shut out everything else and drew on himself.
When Duren first heard his sister's voice in his mind, he could not believe the Lewin boy had decided to attack or that he was physically capable of such a thing yet. True, the boy was strong, but there was no way he could have regained sufficient strength after what he'd done the day before. When he probed Mathew's mind, gently, subtly, he was shocked. No matter. He was certain that he and Marsa were more than a match for him. The boy was concentrating so hard, he would never know until it was too late. It would have been nice to have his exact location, but it was impossible to tell with the storm. Probably on a hill someplace near the Elgarians, from the brief glimpse he had. Wherever it was, he was certain the young fool needed to have a clear view of the water to have created a storm of the magnitude Marsa reported. She would continue to draw him out, making him work harder and harder. That would give him time to make his move.
As soon as she linked with her brother, Marsa felt her strength surge. Almost at once the storm began to weaken. Karas was right—the boy was no match for both of them together. It was a shame in a way, she thought. She had begun to form interesting plans concerning Mathew Lewin. For the past half hour she had hurled bolt after bolt at him with no effect other than to keep him busy, which was exactly what Karas wanted. She knew it would be the purest luck for one of them to find its mark. More likely, they struck the Elgarians defending the Coast Road. That would be acceptable. It was possible she had even hit their mercenaries, which would have been not only annoying but also a waste of good money. With the storm's ferocity beginning to dissipate, she
turned her far vision to the rugged coastline through the breaks in the clouds. It took her only a second to pick out where they were. The boy Lewin may have shielded himself, or thought he had done so, but his friends were vulnerable. She was too far away to stop their hearts or make the blood boil in their veins, so she contented herself with something more creative.
Collin had to look twice to believe it. Until Akin tapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward the Coast Road, he had been watching Mathew, wanting to help but not knowing what to do. It was obvious that Mathew was engaged in a battle of some kind with Duren and his sister. He accepted that much as true. Somewhere out on the horizon, a tremendous storm was raging. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning flashes lit up the sky for miles in every direction. Equally plain, especially once things began to explode all around them, was the fact that the Queen of Nyngary and Duren were fighting back. But what he was not prepared for was the wall of orange fire at least fifty feet high and several hundred yards wide that suddenly sprang out of nowhere and began rolling rapidly in their direction, consuming everything in its path. In no time at all it had reached the base of their hill. They could feel the intense heat as the firewall started to climb.
Collin looked around for some means of escape. He had to get Mat off the hill before it was too late. It was one thing to fight a man, but a wall of fire?
When he heard Akin say "My God," under his breath, he spun around and saw a blue wall of fire, as big as a house, roaring toward them from the opposite direction, cutting them off completely. Somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledged that they were going to die.
Mathew was instantly aware when Duren joined with his sister. Already strained to his limit, their combined attack almost proved too much for him. But Duren had given away his timing a split second before he struck. Mathew clearly heard the word "Now" spoken in his mind at the same time Marsa d'Elso did. At the very last moment he was able to throw up a shield over Akin, Collin, and himself as the fire exploded around them. The force of the explosion was enough to knock all of them to the ground. He pushed himself up to his knees knowing he would have only moments before Duren and his sister realized they had failed.
The storm continued to clear around her, and the Queen of Nyngary looked out across the water. She could not believe her eyes. Of the forty ships in the armada, only five remained. Several were floating hull up, having apparently capsized when the waves hit them, and the. sea was littered with wreckage. Marsa d'Elso watched in amazement as the bow of a Cincar ship slipped soundlessly beneath the water and disappeared. Men were clinging to pieces of masts, railings, or whatever would float. When rays of sunlight began to break through the clouds, the scene was even more horrible than she had imagined.
Not generally given to public displays of anger, Marsa d'Elso was unable to control herself. A look of rage contorted her beautiful face. How could a mere boy have done this? she thought. He was still alive; she was aware of that, but weak—vulnerable. I will make him pay. Oh, yes. People will talk about his fate in whispers for centuries to come.
The captain of the ship was coming toward her. She composed her features and waited for him, but the man suddenly stopped and his mouth dropped open. Puzzled, she turned to see what the fool was gaping at. To her amazement, she saw two enormous waterspouts lift themselves out of the sea and slam into her ship with the force of a battering ram. Spars and rigging started to snap everywhere as the ship began a slow roll over. . . over . . . and down.
35
Lower Elgaria, 75 miles north of Tremont
Karas Duren felt the link with his sister break. His mind reached out for her and found nothing. The only image that came to him was a brief glimpse of the Lewin boy on his knees with his head down, atop a blackened hill—still alive. Still alive!
The soldier who entered his tent blanched at the fury written on the man's face and withdrew immediately. Outside, Ra'id al Mouli, sitting astride his white stallion, saw
the soldier emerge from the tent almost as quickly as he had entered, with a face as white as ash. This was followed by a guttural scream of rage from within the tent.
/ am in league with a madman, he thought.
Soldiers all around him turned to look at one another in puzzlement and discreetly moved farther away.
Clearly, something has happened, he thought. But what? More important to him at the moment was how it would affect his people. He had known for weeks the bargain he made with Duren was a bad one. The situation now was exactly as he feared. Having grabbed a lion by the tail, it was impossible to let go. Quietly, he cursed Malach for closing the ports and leaving him no options.
Women and children. His mind still recoiled from the thought of their being given to the Orlocks at Anderon. He'd found out too late to stop it. Their deaths made no difference to Duren, but al Mouli considered himself a man of honor. One did not make war on women and children. There was no honor in such actions, only shame. To fight a man face-to-face and see his eyes was one thing, but killing many men promiscuously with fire from a distance was another entirely.
The man seated next to him on an elegant black horse with a silver bridle was General Darias Val, commander of the armies of Bajan and a boyhood friend, Val had hard angular features with piercing brown eyes, and a large nose that looked as if it had been broken a number of times. Unlike his companions, he chose not to wear the customary head covering of his country. Most of the dark brown hair of his youth was gone, and what remained at his temples was now gray.
At a glance from al Mouli, Val nudged his horse closer. The two men spoke quietly for a minute, keeping their expressions neutral. They looked around at the assembled troops. To a casual observer, nothing would have appeared out of the ordinary. They were simply two friends passing their time in idle conversation. The only indication that something might have been out of place was the tightening of Darias Val's hands on the reins of his horse and a sharp glance in the Kalifar's direction. A second after their conversation was concluded, they shook hands and Val touched his hand to his forehead, lips, and heart, then turned his horse and rode slowly toward the far end of their camp.
Those soldiers who noticed him either saluted or bowed according to their custom, but with the preparations for the army's departure under way, there was little time to consider what the Bajani general was doing. At the end of the camp he turned his horse to the west and began picking his way through the trees, circling well around the camp. Eventually he came to the road that would lead him to Tremont. The advance scouts he'd sent out the previous day told him the Elgarians were camped at a place called Ardon Field. This was where they apparently had chosen to make their last stand. Certainly their situation was hopeless. Even if the Mirdites could reach them in time, he would still carry an advantage in numbers they could not overcome.
What the general did not know, could not know, was
that the odds had recently shifted a great deal. The Nyn-gary and Cincar fleets now lay at the bottom of the ocean. But even had such information been available to him, it would have made no difference. Darias Val was a loyal man. Loyal to his country and to his lifelong friend, Ra'id al Mouli. No matter that he was a soldier and the other was the Kalifar. Certain things never change, which was why his mission was so important. Unseen by anyone else, just before he turned his horse around Ra'id al Mouli had slipped a letter into Val's hands.
The Kalifar was not only a religious man, but an ethical one as well. The horror of watching children being herded up like cattle and delivered to the Orlocks for food was a sin so great that no amount of obeisance could ever wash it away. For weeks the general had known that al Mouli could not live with such shame. It was only a matter of time before his friend realized that for himself and took the necessary steps to separate them from the monster they were allied with.
He dug his heels in the animal's flanks and bent low, urging the stallion to greater speed. If al Mouli could buy him an extra hour, there might be enough time to stop the Elgarians before the trap was closed. In all likelihood, the Kalifar had signed their death warrants by his decision. Better one or two than thousands, he thought. Val touched the breast pocket of his shirt, feeling the outline of the letter he carried, reassuring himself that it was still there.
Just over a hundred miles from where Darias Val rode, Collin Miller opened one eye and looked around. The dark clouds above his head were breaking apart, revealing a bright blue sky behind them. Satisfied that he wasn't dead, he opened the other eye. The rain had stopped, and while the wind was still blowing, it was no more than a sharp breeze. Mathew was in front of him, on his knees, head hanging down.
"Good lord," he heard Akin say.
The silversmith got to his feet, went to Mathew and put an arm around his shoulders. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
Mathew didn't respond right away. Collin heaved himself to his feet, walked over to them and squatted down in front of his friend.
"Hey," he said, trying to get Mathew's attention.
"I'm tired," Mathew said after a moment. "Help me up, will you?"
A wave of relief passed over Collin. Both of them grabbed him under the arms at the same time and lifted him to his feet. Mathew swayed for a second, then steadied himself.
"Are you feeling better?" Akin asked. His voice was filled with concern.
Mathew swallowed, blinked, and glanced at the area around him. The land, the trees, the bushes and grass were burned black for hundreds of yards in every direction. Only a twenty-foot radius around where they were standing was unaffected. Below, he could see the broad swath of destruction the firewall had cut as it roared toward them.
"I can't say I care much for your new friends," Akin observed.
"They probably feel the same way about me," Mathew answered.
"Are you all right?" he asked again, searching Mathew's face closely.
Mathew rolled his shoulders and turned his head to both sides before responding. "Yes... I think so. I'm a little weary, but my strength seems to be coming back. It's quicker than it was in Elberton or even yesterday."
"Good," Collin said. "Let's get off this hill before they come back and want to play some more."
The smile slowly evaporated from Mathew's face. "One of them won't be coming back at all."
Both Collin and Akin frowned at the comment.
"Which one?" Akin asked quietly.
"The sister," Mathew said, staring down at his feet. "I didn't have any choice."
"It's all right, Mat. We understand," Akin said, see-
ing the expression on Mathew's face, then looking at the destruction that seemed to be everywhere. "What about.. . ?"
"The Nyngary and Cincar fleets are gone." "Gone?" Collin said. "What do you mean—" "Exactly what I said, gone. Dead .. . they're all dead. Every last one of them." Mathew closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut out what he was seeing. "Mathew . .." Akin said softly. "We'd better get back," Mathew eventually said. "I doubt any of this is going to improve Duren's disposition very much."
"That lightning and the storm we saw out at sea . . . ?" Mathew nodded, tight-lipped. He walked over to the edge of the hill and looked down at the crystals. They were dark now. The realization of what had happened, what he'd done, began to weigh on him. He steeled himself with the thought that they were enemies coming to invade his country, to kill his people, but it gave him no comfort. This time it wasn't just one person, or thirty ... it was thousands.
Visions of bodies and wreckage rising and falling on the ocean swells materialized with frightening clarity in his mind. Ships slipped soundlessly beneath the waves as men desperately clung to decks gone vertical, their bows lifted out of the water. Death was everywhere. The dead eyes of sailors and soldiers alike stared at him from beneath their watery graves.
Collin started to go to him, but Akin touched his forearm and shook his head. Being older, and with a lengthier perspective on life, he understo
od Mathew's need for solitude at that moment. The enormity of what the boy just told them he had done was obvious, at least to him. Despite the massive abilities Mathew seemed to possess, the fact remained that he was still eighteen years old.
No one talked much on the way back to the town. Mathew walked a little apart, alone with his thoughts. Akin saw the tears in his eyes and said nothing. When they got to the tavern, there was a mild commotion going on. Two soldiers were holding a man dressed in a knee-length black robe by the arms. Next to him was a magnificent-looking black stallion with a silver bridle. Several townspeople were there, everyone talking at the same time. The man, however, remained calm—almost disdainful of the crowd. Despite his years, he looked fit and hard as agate.
"What's going on?" Collin asked one of the soldiers.
"We caught this Bajani spy on the road about fifteen minutes ago. Claims he has to talk with Prince Delain."
"I take it you know what a flag of truce is, do you not, soldier? Have done with this foolishness and take me to the prince at once."
There was an unmistakable air of command about the
man!
"You keep your filthy mouth shut until you're spoken to," the soldier on his right growled. "I wouldn't trust one of you Bajani cutthroats if my life depended on it—flag or no flag."
"Your life does depend on my talking to the prince. Yours, and everyone in this town—if not your country as well. I repeat, take me to him immediately!"
The soldier, confused and clearly out of his depth, replaced confusion with obstinance and struck the man across the face with the back of his hand.
Mathew stepped close to Collin and whispered in his ear, "Go get Father Thomas."
"Right," Collin said. He darted around the crowd, which had now grown larger by several people. A minute later Father Thomas emerged from the tavern and walked directly up to the soldiers.
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0) Page 43