“Oh, my daughter,” he said, pressing his face against her cheek, the clatter of swords deafening.
•
“There!” Falon called out, seeing the barricades near the city gates.
He hurried now, running ahead of his soldiers, leaving Caissir and Ashre behind.
It looked all but lost. A good number of Rhow’s army were either dead or dispersed through the city, while the remaining soldiers were fighting great hordes of liskash storming over the barricades.
Then Falon saw Rhow.
Off in a corner, crouched low in the dirt.
Lord Rhow! And there, resting in his lap, Taline.
Falon raised his sword high, not feeling its heaviness at all. And he screamed to the soldiers behind him to hurry.
He rushed to Rhow’s side, only for a moment considering ending the noble’s life right there.
But he looked at Taline. Her eyes lolled open and she didn’t seem to know where she was.
“How is—” Falon started.
Rhow looked up, showing no surprise at seeing him. “She’s ... she’s lost a lot of blood. We have to get help.”
•
Falon turned as his soldiers arrived. He pointed at two. “Go with Lord Rhow and take his daughter to the palace. Bring an herb healer.”
Rhow stood up, shaking, licking his lips. His fur was covered with dried blood. Whatever he was, Falon saw, Rhow had been in the thick of the battle. “The battle is lost ...” Rhow said slowly.
Falon looked over the wave of invaders streaming over the barricades, hacking through the defenders.
“Yes—if we go on like this. Quick, take your daughter away. These soldiers with me are fresh.” Falon looked up at the sky. The twin moons were overhead, adding a ghostly glow to the battle scene. How long before dawn ... before the liskash must withdraw?
“Leave,” he said, looking at Rhow, his eyes cold and gray.
And in that instant Falon realized that Rhow understood that he knew. Rhow’s lips moved, as if he was about to say something.
“Go,” Falon ordered.
The two soldiers picked up Taline carefully, and started to carry her away. “If I survive, I’ll meet with you at the palace ... later.”
Rhow nodded, then hurried away to follow his daughter.
And then Falon’s small army was there awaiting directions. He wondered if there were any more assassins hiding amongst them.
“We’re not going to fortify the barricades,” he ordered. “Instead, we’ll split into four, maybe five groups, and scatter on the streets between here and Mineir’s palace. Let us fight and run, ducking into houses, climbing from rooftop to rooftop, fighting for every dark alleyway. Stay in the shadows, hit your enemy, and then move on.”
“But Falon ... they’ll reach the palace sooner or later,” one of the captains argued.
“With that kind of fighting, it will be later. And then, when the twin moons are behind the western hills, we’ll attack them in the courtyard, together, and push them out of the city. By then, the liskash will be checking the sky for signs of dawn. We’ll hurt them, delay them, and then when they’re preoccupied, we’ll run them out of the city.”
Falon looked around and made a quick assignment of captains, allotting an equal number of soldiers to each group.
He looked at the barricades, now all but covered by the invaders.
“You two can stay with me,” he said, grinning at Caissir and Ashre.
“Gladly, Falon,” Caissir said, lowering his voice. “I’m not too sure how much I trust those others, eh, Ash?”
Falon raised his sword in the air. “To your places!” he shouted, and he watched the street empty of soldiers.
He led his own group through a meandering trail of streets and alleyways before bringing them to rest near some quiet buildings, in what must have been the wealthy part of the city. He gestured to the soldiers to hide themselves in the shadows. A few actually entered buildings and took positions near windows overlooking the street.
“Tell me,” Caissir whispered, crouched low beside Falon, “where did you get your great training as a strategist?”
The moonlight picked up Falon’s smile. “When I was younger my people were still raiding the caravans. I used to go with them ...” he looked at Ashre “... when I was no bigger than our friend here. A few times, the caravans repaid the favor. They attacked the village. The street fighting could be something to see. The village would look empty, but every home, every street held death for anyone seeking the highlanders.” Falon looked around at the apparently deserted, quiet street. “That’s all this is—the same trick.”
“Well, I hope it works as well—”
“They’re coming!” Ashre said, his small claws digging into Falon’s arm.
“All right, Ash ... easy on my pelt. I don’t hear anything. Are you s—”
But then he heard the sounds clearly enough. A great jangling line of soldiers, making their way toward them.
“Good work,” he said to the kit. He made a few broad waves with his sword ... the prearranged signal.
“Get your weapons out, Caissir,” Falon said, seeing him just sitting there.
“Oh, yes,” Caissir said, distractedly. “Just not very good with it, that’s all.”
Falon saw him look at Ashre, a secret look. There s something they’re not telling me. In his straightforward highlander way, he decided to ask them what was going on—but then the invaders showed up.
“Ready ...” Falon hissed.
Closer, their scaly bodies were clearly visible in the moonlight. They were all liskash, talking to each other, feeling that the battle for Tizare was over.
They tolerated the renegades fighting alongside them all right, Falon saw. But after it was all over, they quickly became a closed society. He could only imagine the fate of the renegades should the Eastern Lords come to rule over the mrem.
Closer ... Their guttural voices echoed weirdly off the bumpy brick facades of the buildings. Then, that unmistakable stench. A smell Falon felt he’d never get out of his nostrils.
And closer ... If one of the liskash .soldiers were to glance at their doorway he might wonder what all those lumpy things were. A few more steps.
One of the soldiers turned and blinked its milky yellow eyelids—looking right at Falon.
Falon sprung out of the shadows like a demon. The soldiers with him all quickly appeared from equally improbable locations, some leaping from roofs, others crawling from nearby windows, a few just jumping out of an alleyway.
And nobody wasted any time in striking at the enemy.
Slash!
Falon’s blade felled one, then another of the weary, overconfident creatures. All around him the other mrem fought with a crazed passion born from the knowledge that if they lost this battle, the city, and their lives, would be gone.
“Stay back!” he ordered Ashre, but the kit ignored him, artfully dodging the lumbering blows of the liskash, jabbing at them with his oddly curved sword.
He was using one of their own weapons, Falon realized. Ashre so distracted the liskash that the soldiers found it easy to cut them down as the kit weaved his way in and out.
Even Caissir made a few good blows, though he stayed well out of the range of most of the liskash.
A few of Falon’s soldiers were also quickly cut in two, screaming horribly. But his small band fought with undiminished fervor.
Then the only sound on the street was the incredibly breathy panting of Falon and his band, and the hollow, watery moans of the dying, scattered on the stone road like so much garbage.
His soldiers gave out a victorious howl.
“Good mrem ... but there is much more to do. Take a breath, and then follow me.”
And Falon led them down more streets, past another alley where another band had
ambushed some of the liskash. He brought them to a street that led directly to the palace.
Once again they hid, waiting for the sounds, slowly catching their breath. A few cleaned their swords by rubbing them against the soft porous brick that most of Tizare was made of.
And again, Ashre grabbed Falon’s arm, giving him a warning.
This time, though, the surprise was less than total. One of the invaders spotted some movement on a rooftop and the invaders tried to find some cover. Falon gave the order to attack, knowing that more of his mrem would be killed.
Still they fought with incredible bravery, stepping over their own dead comrades as they fell, ignoring the size and ferocity of the liskash. The few renegades with the group fled at the first sign of attack.
Falon felt a blade open his old chest wound, and he staggered back, sure that the enemy would drive his blade home.
But when he looked up, there was Caissir, standing between him and the liskash. The liskash stumbled backward, slipping on the gooey mess made by the dead bodies.
Caissir turned to Falon, his expression serious ... concerned.
“Are you all right, Falon?”
Falon nodded. He pulled his kilt tighter, pressing it against the open wound.
When he looked up, the street skirmish was over:
“Quick,” he said, for the first time his fatigue starting to
show. “To the courtyard ... outside the palace.”
My palace, he thought. ,
Though Lord Rhow might differ with me on that.
“Come,” he said tiredly. “Let’s end this invasion.” He looked up at the sky.
Just a hint of light, to the east. The slightest pale shade of blue.
If we can hold on ... just a bit more ... then we’ll have won.
He led his band towards the great open plaza outside the royal palace of Tizare.
•
Lord Rhow stood at the bedroom window, staring out at the great plaza. From four different directions the invaders streamed toward the palace gates.
But not so many of them, he thought.
Whatever Falon had done, he had cut their army down. Now as they marched toward the heavy metal gates of the palace, Falon’s small bands appeared from nowhere, and surprised the liskash from all sides.
He’s doing it, Rhow thought. Falon is saving the city.
And every moment that the battle went on brought dawn that much closer.
Was it true, he wondered, about the liskash and daylight? Would they begin sneaking away to their hillside camp, eager to shield themselves from the hot, drying light?
Some of the renegades made a wild break for the gates, but Rhow saw Falon spot them. A few of his soldiers went after them and cut them down as their claws closed around the heavy black metal bars.
Still the sky grew lighter.
Rhow saw Elezar ... somehow he had’ survived the battle at the barricades.
My most loyal captain, he thought. What would he think of my deceptions ... my treachery?
Rhow turned and looked at his daughter.
She lay on the bed, resting on top of the too-bright crimson sheets, her fur still matted down with blood and grime. The nurse was forcing oddly colored liquids into her mouth.
He walked over to her slowly, not really wanting to be so near ... to see her eyes closed so tightly ... to hear the shallowness of her breathing.
“How ... how is she?” he asked the old she-mrem, hoarsely.
“It’s too early ... she has lost much blood. But her heart is strong. We must wait. ...”
Rhow nodded, turning back to the window.
Outside the battle finally turned. First one group, then another of the invaders started moving back, away from the palace, returning to the small side streets. And the army of Tizare, some in the royal blue uniform of Mineir, and others dressed in his own black uniform, fell into giddy pursuit.
Despite the closed windows Rhow could hear the horrified screams of the liskash.
And of what were they most terrified? he wondered. The wild-eyed soldiers ... or the dawn, just about to break?
And what of you? he asked himself. What are you most afraid of?
Losing your daughter while you stand helplessly beside her?
Or facing Falon, as you know you must?
In answer, he knelt down beside his daughter’s bed, holding her hand tightly.
CAISSIR grabbed Ashre and held him back, away from the jubilant soldiers crowding around Falon, all of them screaming at him.
“I must talk with you, Ashre—before we go back to the palace.”
The kit looked up, a great big smile on his face. He was confused, and didn’t understand why Caissir held him there.
“I want to be with Falon,” Ashre said. “He’s won ... he’s defeated the Eastern Lords .... Don’t you understand that?”
Caissir shook his head.
“No, my young friend. He’s defeated one army, one invasion—this time. There are more difficult and dangerous days ahead ... days when he’ll need your help.”
“Yes!” Ashre said, agreeing. “That’s why I want to go now—help him—”
The crowd of rejoicing Tizarians poured out of the once-deserted streets, everyone smiling, offering the soldiers great goblets of wine and fat loaves of rich Tizarian bread. The she-mrem jumped onto the soldiers, seemingly eager to make love with each and every one.
Still, Caissir held Ashre back.
“There is someplace else you belong, Ashre ... someplace where there are others like you ... like me. It is a place where you can learn the secrets of your power, grow even stronger, and return to help Falon rule.”
Ashre’s face was solemn, disappointed.
“I don’t understand. ... What is it?” he asked quietly. “This place ...”
Caissir started walking now, trailing behind the raucous crowd that led Falon to the temple.
“It’s not so much a place, Ashre. It is a group of very special mrem ... called The Three. If you come with me, you will be part of the group in the great city of Ar.”
At the name of this most wonderful city, Ashre’s eyes went wide. “I’ve heard so much about that city ... its different buildings ... goods from all over the planet ...”
Caissir smiled, gently. “And about one half of it is true, Ash. I will be personally involved in your training, but others, more adept than I, will work with you. Until the day you’re ready—”
“Ready? Ready for what?”
Caissir gave the kit’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “To help Falon rule. He won’t always just be king of this small city. His future, like yours, holds larger things.”
Ashre nodded. “And if I refuse to go?”
Now it was Caissir’s turn to let his face look sad and disappointed. “The future is a funny thing. We can’t really say what will happen, not for certain. But I know this much. Falon, his crown, his city, perhaps other cities, will need your help. You’re a good little magician,” he said, ruffling the kit’s ears. “But he’ll need more help than that.”
Ashre looked around. The noise of the jubilant celebration was further away, as they moved towards the palace.
The kit stared up at Caissir. “Is this something I have to do, Caissir?”
He nodded.
“Then, I’ll do it, I’ll tell Falon and—”
But Caissir was shaking his head, his eyes starting to go all watery.
I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, he scolded himself. No crying, no silly blubbering, old mrem. Not now, not when this is all so important.
“No, Ashre. That’s the other thing. Falon can’t know where you’ve gone ... he must not know about The Three—the group you’ll be with. It would put him in too much danger from our enemies.”
“What! I can’t tell h
im I’ve gone, that I’ll be back?”
Caissir said firmly, “Do you want him to be in danger?”
Ashre shook his head, and Caissir knew that the kit understood the truth of what he said.
“What must I do?”
Caissir Sighed. “Leave with me, right now. We’ll take the western trails to the city of Ar. Falon must know nothing, but I will leave word that we are safe and alive. But Falon will never be far from us ... that I promise you. And,” Caissir smiled, “he will need us again. That is all I can tell you.”
Ashre looked around, at the distant crowd, at the blue sky spotted with only a few puffy clouds.
“Are you ready?” Caissir asked, giving Ashre a few more moments to think.
The kit nodded.
Caissir forced a smile onto his face. “Then, let’s be off!”
•
This is what it’s like, thought Falon. To conquer an army and have a city at your feet. The noise of the crowd carrying him and his soldiers along was almost deafening, with everyone forcing handfuls of food on him, smiling, kissing his bloodstained hands, his weapons.
They brought him closer to the palace gates ... and Lord Rhow. And which one of us do they expect to rule them? Falon wondered.
Part of him wanted just to bow before Lord Rhow and say, “Here is the city I won for you.”
But it’s my city, my throne! He thought of the mother he never knew, fleeing to the rugged mountains, carrying him.
Part of it would be for her.
He looked around at the crowd, at the delirious soldiers, all happy and drunk with excitement. And there, off to the side, he saw Elezar, looking right at him.
Falon smiled at him.
Does Elezar know ... has he always known?
The gates were just ahead, and the palace guards stood at their post, looking nervous as the wild throng approached.
“Put me down!” Falon yelled, and he finally found himself on the ground again. “Caissir! Ashre!” he called, looking for them. But he did not see them anywhere among the happy crowd.
EXILED Wizard of Tizare Page 29