Severed Destinies

by David Kimberley

  “The corporal and his men encountered them at the temple though. We still don’t have proof that they were in Boraila and this force, if we can assume as much, was seen on the road leading to Boraila.”

  Sarin shook his head. “We must assume that Boraila has fallen.”

  “How could a city the size of Boraila be taken though?” Gorric asked him. “The force was large enough to destroy Barentin and Tamriel but not Boraila.”

  Sarin sighed. “I too have had the same thoughts but let us see what happens tonight. If nothing has happened by the time day breaks, then we will be able to send men out early. However, I still want you away from Turambar now. I cannot risk your life or the lives of your sister and friends, Gorric.”

  Gorric drew in a deep breath. “I would rather stay within the fortress, captain. Send the others away but I wish to remain for now.”

  “I have made up my mind,” snapped Sarin. “Gather your belongings and meet Corporal Ilkar in the courtyard. He will lead you to the boats so that you can cross the river.”

  Gorric opened his mouth as if to continue his protest but the expression on Sarin’s face made him think otherwise. With a hushed curse, he turned and made his way back down into the courtyard.

  Sarin looked over his shoulder and could see Ilkar approaching along the wall, having heard his name mentioned. “The young lord has spirit, Ilkar.”

  “He is brave, sir, and the tales of his heroism in Barentin are not exaggerated. He certainly will make a fine soldier.”

  Sarin saw the thoughtful expression on Ilkar’s youthful yet tired face. “Are your thoughts of the temple?”

  Ilkar nodded. “Yes, sir. The invaders fought with such ferocity and they were ruthless. They offered no mercy against our men and they simply murdered the defenseless clerics. I find myself wondering how they can be so brutal. The Skardans have always been those we feared in combat but now…..” Ilkar’s voice trailed off.

  “This will be a tense night,” stated Sarin. “How are the men holding up in your opinion?”

  “As well as can be expected, sir. We all know that there is a force somewhere out there who were heading this way but, for all we know, they could have reached the junction in the road and headed north rather than south.”

  “Let us hope that is the case. Tell me, how are the acolyte and his friend doing?”

  “They are resting. It was a hard ride back here for both of them. The acolyte still does not know that his clerics were all murdered.”

  Sarin glanced at him. “Best it remains that way for now. How is your leg?”

  Ilkar smiled slightly. “It was not a deep cut and luckily they do not use poisoned blades as I had been expecting. I feel guilty that this is the only thing that I suffered at the temple, unlike the rest of the men.”

  “Do not blame yourself. You were caught by surprise and, from what you said, the men fought bravely.” Sarin swung his hand in the direction of the courtyard. “You heard what I said to Gorric?”

  “That I am to see them away safely at the river’s edge, sir.”

  “Yes. Once they are away, return here and rest.”

  Ilkar nodded. “Understood, sir.” He looked out one more time into the darkness beyond the walls and shivered. “A cold air blows from the north tonight.”

  Rynn woke with a start and sat up. He looked to his left and could make out Varayan’s sleeping form in the next bed. The rest of the beds in the barracks were empty as every soldier now manned their posts around the fortress.

  Rynn tried to remember the dream that he had been having and recalled seeing his temple again surrounded by the invading soldiers. He also had seen the strange figure who had stood back from the battle between Ilkar’s men and the invaders. Something about that man terrified him and chilled him to the bone. Not wishing to return to that dark dream, Rynn left his bed and moved to peer through the nearest window.

  Outside in the courtyard, he could see the Turambar soldiers making preparations against a possible attack. Even within the walls of the fortress though, Rynn did not feel safe and he imagined the dark army camped just beyond in the forest, waiting to strike. He saw Gorric stride past the barracks but the young lord’s face was set in an angry expression. They had all seen so much death and destruction since they met in Barentin that perhaps it was starting to take its toll on even the strongest of the group.

  He found himself thinking about the temple again. It had been his home and now the invaders had taken it for their own. His thoughts were with Ranesch and the rest of his order. He wanted to believe that they had fled the temple before the arrival of the soldiers but something in his heart told him they had not.

  Behind him, Varayan stirred in his sleep and Rynn glanced over his shoulder at the man who had become a friend to him during their short time together. At the temple, Varayan had been almost protective over Rynn, although he would not have admitted to such a thing. There was courage in Varayan’s heart, Rynn knew. It was reckless courage but it seemed to suit him somehow.

  As Rynn turned to peer out of the window once more, he stopped and held his breath. He was certain that he had heard a voice call his name, but it was distant. He hoped that it was Kithia, wanting to talk further with him. He enjoyed nothing more than sitting listening to her talk about her life, her family and anything else she wanted to tell him about. Just being in her presence was intoxicating enough.

  Rynn looked around the quiet barracks but could not see anyone else. Then, he heard it again. It was a faint voice; alien but yet strangely familiar to him. He waited for it to call a third time and, as it did, a wave of warmth washed over him and he staggered as the room spun. The voice sounded out clearly and echoed in his mind rather than his ears. Without realising, Rynn stumbled from the window to the footlocker at the base of his bed and opened it. As the voice began to pound in his head, he reached down and pulled out the scroll bound with the blue ribbon that he had taken from the chest beneath the temple. Something told him that the voice would stop resounding in his head if he just opened the scroll and started reading. Almost desperately, Rynn untied the ribbon and rolled the scroll open. The parchment held runic symbols which at any other moment Rynn would have been unable to read but the words of magic formed on his lips without effort. The voice stopped but Rynn could not and he mouthed the words on the scroll as if memorised.

  As he read the last of the symbols, a burning pain seared through his head and the young acolyte tried to stand but his legs had no strength. As darkness engulfed him, he let out a scream of agony and slipped out of consciousness.

  Chapter 17

  Sephonis stood patiently in silence as his soldiers carried the bodies of the clerics into the room that had once been the temple’s dining hall. All of the furniture except one long table had been removed and on that a number of candles flickered, making the chambers’ shadows seem almost alive as they moved in the faint light.

  The clerics had been laid on the cold stone floor in a line, all lying on their backs, as instructed by Sephonis.

  “There are no more bodies?” he asked one of the soldiers.

  “No, high mage.”

  “Then leave me and allow nobody entry to this room until I permit.”

  The soldier bowed his head and signalled to the others, who quickly filed out. When the door was closed, Sephonis moved to it and placed his hand against the soft wood. He whispered an incantation and, as he pulled his hand away, a runic symbol quickly materialised on the door as if burnt into the very wood. With the door locked by the enchantment, the high mage turned and walked to where the bodies lay, peering down at each one as he passed. Satisfied that the bodies were positioned correctly, he moved to stand before them, then turned his back to the corpses, facing the curved wall at the end of the chamber. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and held out his hands in the usual manner, with his palms turned upwards. The silence that so often preceded his link with the Dar’ota fell in the chamber.

  It is time.
>
  “Yes, my lord.”

  Remember, Sephonis, that this gateway is to be used by no other person than yourself. Should anyone else pass through, they will be slain.

  “I understand. My lord, should Commander Draliak inquire as to the gateway, what would you have me tell him?”

  Tell him that the portal has been created to allow my link with you to be stronger and to allow you to return to Shada-Kaviel whenever I order you to. This is truthful, but he must not be permitted to know of the third reason. He distrusts anything from beyond this realm of understanding.

  “Indeed he does. Balthus is with him for the attack on the river fortress and this alone unsettles him.”

  Let us hope that your young invoker does not act so rashly this time, Sephonis.

  “Bearing the scar from the Rotian blade is his punishment, my lord. If any prisoners are taken from the fortress, should they be sent to Shada-Kaviel on the ships as the others were?”

  Any other prisoners are to be held there. The slaves from the Rotian towns and port city will suffice for now. I will need prisoners for the transition.

  “When will the transition start, my lord, if I may ask?”

  Once the Rotian people are enslaved, then my minions from the realm beyond will arrive. The Rotian Kingdom will be theirs’ and swiftly we will spread across the other lands. No more will they suffer the dead lands where they currently reside. The Rotian Kingdom will provide them with the energy they need to become the force they once were. This is but the first of many lands, Sephonis. We will prevail.

  “We will, my lord.”

  Begin the incantation.

  “He was like this when you found him?” Khir asked Varayan.

  Varayan nodded slowly. “His scream woke me.” He had heard the acolyte cry out in pain and, having found Rynn unconscious on the floor of the barracks, he had ran to find help.

  Khir glanced at the others crouched around Rynn and then back to the acolyte’s pale face. At first, they had thought him dead when they had looked upon him but they were relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

  “I do not understand what has happened here,” frowned Kithia.

  “His footlocker was open and I found what seemed to be ash next to him,” added Varayan.

  “Ash?” Ilkar stood by the window, looking thoughtfully down at Rynn. “He had burnt something?”

  “I didn’t smell smoke,” Varayan replied. “It was as if a parchment had…” He suddenly moved to the open locker and peered inside.

  “What is it?” asked Gorric, whose anger from his earlier talk with Sarin had changed to concern for his companion now lying before him.

  Varayan sighed. “When Rynn and I went to his temple in Boraila, he found two scrolls that he was very persistent on bringing back. There is only one now.”

  “I wonder,” came Ilkar’s voice and the other four looked across at the corporal. “I had heard stories in Boraila about the magics that some of the clerics used and one such story involved these being bound into scrolls so that they could be learnt. I was always told that these scrolls could not be read by anyone but the more experienced clerics and that doing so could damage a person’s mind. Perhaps our young friend here stumbled across two of these scrolls and foolishly sought to read one.”

  Khir shared a shocked glance with Gorric. “That doesn’t explain the ash though, does it?”

  “Maybe the scroll burst into flame as he read it,” shrugged Varayan, realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

  “He can’t be moved in this state,” Kithia said to Ilkar.

  The corporal shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid the captain’s order stands. Rynn is light and will be easy to carry. I will have two of the men bring him to the pier and place him in the boat for you.”

  Kithia gave Gorric a pleading look, which he recalled from many times past. “My sister is right. He should not be moved until we know the extent of his injury.”

  Ilkar sighed. “I understand your concerns and I share them but I have to see you safely away from here and…”

  A groan caused Ilkar to stop and they all looked down at Rynn. The acolytes’ eyes were open but not focused.

  “Rynn?” said Kithia softly, leaning down close to his face. “Can you hear me?”

  Rynn seemed startled by her voice and he looked at her face but they could all tell that he was unable to see her clearly. Very shakily, he tried to speak. “What….happened?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” smiled Kithia, running a hand across his brow.

  As Rynn slowly recovered, Ilkar placed a hand on Gorric’s shoulder.

  “Well, it seems that you will be leaving as scheduled now.” He handed Gorric two bound parchments. “This first is a message that you are to give to a man named Cullen on the south bank of the river so that he will see you safely away and south to Vylandor. The other parchment is the captain’s personal message to the king, which you are to deliver.”

  “What if Vylandor is not where we wish to go?” asked Gorric.

  Ilkar shook his head. “King Afaron and the council will want to speak with you as a survivor of the attacks. Captain Sarin told me that the five of you are to be considered the most important Rotians alive at this time. You hold information about these invaders that nobody else does, Gorric.”

  “As do you.”

  “I fought a single battle against them in order to allow Rynn and Varayan to escape. I cannot even recall most of what happened now as it was over so quickly. No, my place is here alongside the men I have served with for so long.”

  “I am loathed to leave Turambar.”

  “Believe me, Gorric, when I say that you will best serve the Rotian Kingdom by reaching Vylandor alive and as soon as possible.”

  Gorric nodded reluctantly. “We will gather our belongings and be ready to depart soon.”

  Chapter 18

  Saroth looked up at the high wall of Turambar and his eyes quickly scanned the stonework, noting the small imperfections that he could use to his advantage. He had stood at the base of the eastern wall before, when he had first studied the patterns of the Turambar patrols. He had found that this wall was easier to scale than the others. To any other, the simple straight walls of the fortress would have all looked the same but Saroth had entered many buildings in the same fashion and his experience was unique.

  In his mind, he imagined the route he needed to take. Once he had reached the top, he could make his way along the battlements to the north wall and move down the steps leading to one of the doors into the room which held the gate release. The obstacle he faced was reaching that room without being seen by the heavy number of soldiers who now walked the walls. Somehow, the Rotians knew that something was going to happen and this had concerned him slightly. The Shada-Kavielians would still crush this guardpost but it made his task more complicated than anticipated.

  Saroth drew in a deep breath of the night air and, as he released it, he leapt up quietly and began his climb. With an almost unnatural ability, he quickly scaled the east wall. His fingers gripped the slightest niches in the stonework and his strength allowed him to pull himself up without much effort. To anyone watching below, he would have been likened to a black spider effortlessly moving up the wall.

  As he climbed, he recalled the only other potential way into Turambar, which was a water-filled tunnel heading under the fortress. An old portcullis had been lowered in place and looked as if it had not been raised in many years so he had dismissed this as a feasible means to gain entry to the interior. Even if the portcullis had not been there, he still would have been loathed to swim through the tunnel in the cold water. This route was a much better option and offered him more of a challenge.

  As he neared the top of the wall, he heard the footsteps of one of the soldiers moving above and waited. As the sound of the soldiers’ boots on the stone moved away slightly, Saroth peered over the wall and down onto the battlements just below. His expression remained unchanged w
hen he saw the line of Rotian soldiers. Quickly, he cast his eyes across the fortress and noted that the east wall was not as heavily manned as the north and west. It would still be a major challenge to him though. The light from the lanterns within the fortress illuminated most of the structure’s courtyard and interior walls but there was an area just to his right that stayed in shadow.

  Swiftly, Saroth moved nearer to this part of the wall and, when he was certain no soldiers were moving past, he pulled himself up and swung over the east wall, landing silently on the battlements. Rotians were moving towards his position on either side and the steps leading to the door he needed to reach were tantalisingly close. He knew that his clothing would conceal him in the shadows, as it had been designed to do, but even a rotian would discover him if near enough. Instinctively, Saroth crouched low and glanced down into Turambar’s courtyard. A short drop below him was the roof of one of the interior buildings. On first inspection, he believed it to be a large stable to house the Rotian steeds. Still moving silently, he slid from the battlements and hung for a split second before dropping to the roof. His boots made the slightest sound as they connected with the wood but it was not loud enough to be heard by the soldiers. With long strides, the Shada-Kavielian moved along the roof towards the northern wall of the fortress until he reached the edge. He had two choices; climb back up onto the battlements or try to reach the steps from where he stood.

  Above him, he could hear two of the soldiers talking to one another and he remained crouched on the stable roof for a moment longer, his mind working fast to show all advantages and disadvantages of his two options. As he came to his decision, he heard movement from the courtyard and, looking across, he saw six Rotians making their way towards the south wall. A soldier walked before them and the strange fact that Saroth noted was that the other five were very young and seemed out of place within the confines of the fortress.