The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two)

by James Maxwell

  Melovar heard footsteps behind him but he didn't bother turning. He knew Moragon was out there, fighting to the last, and so was Dain Barden. The Primate held the Evermen's book in his hand; he carried it with him always, although why he still bothered to carry it around he didn't know. Did Dain Barden still think the Primate knew where the scratched relic was? The Primate knew he had been caught out in his lie, for if he knew where the powerful weapon of the Evermen was, surely he would have used it by now.

  Behind him, a throat cleared, and Melovar turned irritably. "I left orders I was not to be disturbed."

  "Your Grace," the templar said, "the harbour is still clear. The imperial fleet is at sea. We do not doubt High Lord Moragon's leadership, but it is safer if you take a boat now, while it's still easy to do so."

  "Why?" the Primate said. "If they win they'll just follow me to Aynar. I prefer to stay here where I can watch it all unfold. Our enemy has proven to be quite resourceful. How do I know there isn't a surprise waiting in the harbour?"

  "Your Grace, please, look for yourself," the templar said, pointing. "You can see the harbour from here. Those are our ships, keeping guard outside the Sentinel."

  Melovar sighed, and then without warning spun and smashed the book in his hand into the man's face. He began to use his fists, punching again and again, pouring his rage on the templar until he was spent. Finally when the templar was on the ground, comatose, the Primate threw the book onto the templar's bloody face.

  The pages of the book fell open to the oddly-formed diagram, and Melovar was once again looking at image of the pool of essence, and the circle above it. Such a strange shape.

  Melovar looked up.

  He looked at the diagram again.

  "All this time," he muttered, but he felt the excitement course through his body as he knew the truth of his realisation. "All this time it was here, right in front of me."

  The dimensions. The strange shapes of the rooms.

  The most powerful magic the world had ever seen.

  They said it was old, older even than Seranthia itself. They said it had been here when the city was just a small fishing town.

  The features that made no sense. The angles and turns.

  Melovar picked up the book and looked at the diagram, and then looked again at the harbour. If he completed the shape…

  The Sentinel. Of course. The relic was inside the Sentinel! Perhaps the relic was the Sentinel.

  The statue wasn't solid.

  It was hollow.

  56

  DAIN Barden Mensk of the Akari rested the bloody head of his war hammer on the ground, panting as he watched the riders once again draw away to regroup on the hills surrounding the city.

  "Tough fighters," he said, to no one in particular.

  He looked down at his bleached leather armour, now splotched red with blood. He'd killed more of the desert men than he could count, but the scratched Hazara kept pulling away, harrying his flanks, protecting the fire-wielders before regrouping again out of range.

  Barden felt a surge of pride when he looked on the ranks of his draugar, still holding formation, pikemen bristling and swordsmen holding firm. He was using the draugar sparingly and they were holding out well. It would be close, but at the end of the day the fight would be his.

  He was surprised at how tired he felt. What was he doing here, anyway? He felt a fool now for being tempted by the Primate's hidden relic, the prize that had been dangled in front of him. Yet Dain Barden was an honourable man, and he would live up to his end of the bargain. He had promised the Primate he would defend Tingara against her enemies, and he had given that strange templar, Zavros, the secrets of the necromancers. In return the Primate had let him rejoin the Tingaran Empire. Even so, Barden felt he had let his people down the day he made that deal.

  When the battle was over, Dain Barden decided he would take his people home to Ku Kara, the ice city. He had known not to trust the Primate, but he had been eager to rejoin the other houses and open up discourse and trade. How could he have known the mighty Tingaran Empire built by Xenovere the Great would have been in such a state? The relic he could understand — it was only ever a possibility, and the Primate was evasive when pressed about its location — but what was the use of rejoining an empire at war, led by one such as the Primate?

  Dain Barden had promised to defend Seranthia, and as a man of his word he would, but then he would leave.

  "Dain," a young Akari said, his blonde hair wild and wispy and his chest heaving like he'd been running.

  "What is it, lad?" Barden said.

  "The Primate's left the Imperial Palace."

  Dain Barden grunted. "What's he doing, fleeing?"

  The Dain knew that if the Primate really had access to this relic he wouldn't be brooding in the Imperial Palace, nor would he be fleeing."

  "He's asked to be taken to the Sentinel."

  Barden fixed his full attention on the man. "Did you just say the Sentinel?"

  It made sense all of a sudden. The relic had been hidden in plain view the entire time!

  "The weapon," the Dain muttered to himself, "it's at the Sentinel. He's going to use it." He thought for a moment. The Primate had promised it to him! He turned back to the young Akari. "I must get there before the Primate uses it. It's ours, in the name of the Nightlord! Get me two draugar as guards."

  As Dain Barden departed the battlefield he heard someone call his name. Turning, he saw Moragon waving at him.

  "Your master's trying to take the relic for himself," Dain Barden said. "I haven't fought your battles for nothing. Don't try to stop me, melding."

  "Give me command of your men," Moragon said.

  "What?"

  "Who will lead them with you gone? Please," the word sounded strange coming from Moragon's mouth, "you made a bargain. You will have the relic, and when we win today your help won't be forgotten."

  Barden knew that every moment he waited, the Primate was getting closer to the relic. "Can I trust you to lead them?"

  "I have no wish to see these barbarians in the streets of Seranthia," Moragon said. "I would say my motives are stronger than yours."

  "You'll lead them well and wisely? On your honour?"

  "On my honour," Moragon said.

  Dain Barden made a quick decision. "Let it be so. I'll put out the word. Take care of my men, melding. I will be back."

  ~

  MORAGON watched the Dain's departing back; the leader of the Akari took only two revenant bodyguards.

  Moragon summoned four of his meldings.

  Like himself, each had an arm of metal, and they carried enchanted swords by their sides. Fearless fighters and skilled swordsmen, they were loyal to their High Lord.

  "Follow him," Moragon said. "Kill him before he finds the Primate."

  "Yes, High Lord," they acknowledged.

  Moragon quickly took command of the battlefield. With the Black Army and the draugar all under his control, he could finally fight the battle the way he wanted it to be fought.

  "Sound the clarion. I want to pull back behind the Wall. They will dash themselves against the gate, and that's when we'll come out and strike with everything we've got. I want every draug, every avenger, and every legionnaire lined up behind the gate, with nothing held in reserve. They will think we've gone behind the Wall to lick our wounds. We'll crush them with one mighty blow."

  57

  "THERE'S fighting outside the gates of Seranthia," Ella cried. "I need to help my friends!"

  "Ella, you know this is more important," Killian said. "If Evrin was trying to keep the Primate from some kind of powerful weapon, now is the time he'll try to use it."

  "I know," Ella said, tearing her eyes from the scene below the hill they'd just crested. The prince's men had been met in open battle outside Seranthia, a swarming force of legionnaires and revenants pouring out of the city, rivalling even the numbers of the Hazarans. "We need to get into the city. How will we get in?"

  "No
t this way," Killian said. He was pensive for a moment. "The harbour. We'll take a small boat and enter from the harbour."

  "Where will we find a boat?"

  Killian looked at her. "Do you have a better idea?"

  He took her by the hand and they started to run.

  ~

  ELLA and Killian kept their distance from the city as they ran up hills, along gullies, through forests, and over farmland. Finally they reached a river, flowing out towards the sea.

  Ella saw a blue horizon ahead, an expanse of sea that grew greater as they ran headlong down the slope of a hill. Ahead she could see a few shacks and a small jetty; they were well outside the walls of Seranthia here, and this region was probably occupied by fishermen.

  They reached the bank and Killian continued running, reaching the jetty and running along its length, following it for as long as he could before stopping, gasping for breath and holding his hand to his eyes as he shielded his gaze from the sun.

  A moment later, Ella stood beside him. "Can you even see the harbour from here?" she asked.

  "We're too far to see," Killian said.

  "What's that?" Ella said, pointing.

  "That's the Sentinel," Killian said. "Surely you've heard of it?"

  "Not the Sentinel," Ella said, "That boat heading out. Further over there, see? It's flying a black sun with a gold rim."

  Ella and Killian squinted, looking out over the harbour.

  "It's the Primate," Killian said. "That cruiser is flying his flag. Do you see? It's landing at the Sentinel. Of course," he suddenly cried, "the Sentinel! There's something there. Why else would the Primate be going there now? "

  Ella gazed at the statue, distant and yet so huge she could see the fingers on the man's pointing hand. "Lord of the Sky," she breathed. "You're right."

  "We might already be too late," Killian said.

  He turned to Ella and grabbed her arm. "I need you to draw the runes on my skin. Can you do it quickly? Just do whatever you can."

  "What are you planning?"

  "I'm going to swim," Killian said.

  "Killian, no." Ella looked at the distance in horror. "You'll never make it."

  Ella still hadn't told him how she felt. She wasn't even sure herself, but she knew she cared for him, with a sensation that tore at her heart when she thought of him coming to harm. She opened her mouth to tell him, realising this might be her last chance, when he spoke.

  "Ella, what if there is a truly powerful weapon there? The Primate has nothing to lose. He's backed into a corner, and he's mad, completely mad."

  Killian started to tear at his clothing, ripping off his shirt and kicking off his sandals until he stood in just a faded pair of trousers.

  In a daze, Ella reached into a pocket of her dress, taking out her vial of essence and scrill. "Killian, I…"

  "Quickly," he said. "Please, Ella, hurry!"

  Ella fumbled with her gloves, her hands shaking so much that Killian had to help her put them on. Finally she dipped the metal rod into the small bottle, waiting the count of a single breath before withdrawing the scrill and starting to draw on Killian's skin.

  Smoke rose from the end of the scrill as she worked, and soon blue lines appeared where she had drawn. Ella worked quickly, yet at the same time she knew that Killian's life would depend on what she was doing. Who knew what he would find when he reached the Sentinel?

  "I'm going to go for help," Ella said when she was nearly finished. "I've given you strength and shadow, but it's not perfect invisibility, and you have very little protection. Be careful, Killian, please."

  "Who will you go to for help?" Killian asked.

  "The desert men. I know their leader, Prince Ilathor. He'll believe me, and he'll come."

  "Good luck," Killian said.

  Ella opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes. Suddenly she had a terrible premonition, a deep dread within telling her she would never see him again. "Good luck," she finally said.

  Without another word Killian turned, ran, and dove into the freezing water of Seranthia's harbour.

  58

  BARTOLO spotted Jehral nearby and nudged his horse forward, Shani close behind him. "Where is the prince?" Bartolo asked the weary-looking desert warrior.

  Jehral pointed to a hill close to the rise they'd fallen back to, where the prince's personal banner flew high. "He's with the tarn leaders."

  Around them hundreds of riders waited impatiently, while many thousands more waited on the other hills for the order to attack once more.

  "This isn't a victory," Bartolo said. "I hope he realises that. They've retreated behind the walls to regroup. Who knows how many of them there are behind there?"

  "The prince is conferring with his commanders," Jehral said. "They will make the right decision."

  "And why aren't you with them?" Shani asked.

  "Because I have been asked to lead the vanguard," Jehral said, somewhat stiffly. "It is a great honour. The prince must make decisions, but I have been entrusted to lead us into the city."

  "Or die trying," Bartolo muttered.

  "Don't feel like you need to stay with me, bladesinger," Jehral said. "Your skills are impressive, but we will take this city, with or without you."

  "Jehral, we aren't going anywhere," Shani said. She turned to Bartolo. "What do you think they're saying?"

  "The ladders are coming forwards," Bartolo said. "I don't need to tell you what that means."

  "The prince plans to attack again today?" Shani asked. "But we've lost so many men."

  "The enemy have lost as many," Jehral said.

  "You're right," Bartolo said, "but attrition isn't how you win wars. Lord of the Sky, I miss Miro."

  "That's the signal," Jehral said. "We're to advance. The ladders will follow."

  Bartolo and Shani exchanged glances as Jehral kicked his horse forward.

  "Bartolo," Shani said. "I… I want to thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For helping me find hope again. Even if it ends here, I didn't realise how dead I was inside until I met you."

  "Don't worry, Shani, we'll make it."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  Bartolo thought for a moment. "Because I have to be. I'm not going to let anyone or anything take you from me, and that's all there is to it."

  Shani grinned. "That's what I like about you. So sure. Lord of Fire, where were you in Petrya when I needed you?"

  "Practicing," Bartolo said.

  "For what? How to love a woman?" Shani's smile broadened, and then faded when Bartolo looked into her eyes.

  "For this battle. It's not going to be easy. Come on, Jehral needs us, whether he knows it or not."

  ~

  THE Hazarans wheeled, galloping in a circle around the field, gathering numbers and momentum before turning and rushing forward in a mighty column. The fastest riders outdistanced the others to form a wedge like the point of a spear, and at the very tip rode Jehral, flanked by Shani and Bartolo. The elementalist in her red robe and the bladesinger in green stood out against the uniform yellow-on-black of the Hazarans, and the sound of the hooves on the earth formed a roar that provided a thunderous counterpoint to the jagged lightning that danced in the clouds above.

  The gates stayed shut when they pulled up in front, halting their wild momentum, and Bartolo looked up fearfully, but when no orbs rained down, and no enemy came to meet them, he immediately knew something was wrong.

  The Hazarans kept coming, forming a great mass of riders that milled in front of the gates, with Jehral, Shani and Bartolo the foremost of all. Ladders were lifted, ponderously moving through the air, incredibly long to reach the top of the Wall. The riders kept coming, but with no enemy to fight they were no longer able to use the speed of their wild charge. The horses stamped and the men astride them halted in confusion.

  "We need to get out of here," Bartolo said.

  "The prince has ordered that we stay here to guard
those who carry the ladders," Jehral said. "We cannot leave."

  A chill went through Bartolo's spine as the gates started to open. "Form your men up. Do it now."

  "Lord of Fire," Jehral breathed as the gates drew wide.

  The enemy commander must have stripped the Wall bare of defenders; there was no other way to account for the force that now challenged the Hazarans.

  Sixty imperial avengers led them. Behind the avengers was a column of legionnaires — the elite imperial guard, with Alturan-made enchanted armour and swords. At least four thousand revenant swordsmen and axemen stood side by side with twice as many revenant pikemen. Bartolo could see at least three columns of templar warriors in white, and then more men in black — legionnaires and Black Army regulars as far as the eye could see. Bartolo had never seen so many men formed up in disciplined ranks. He knew a superior force when he saw it.

  "Sound the retreat," Bartolo said harshly. "Do it!"

  Bartolo heard the sound of trumpets, but it was the enemy's call to attack. The sixty avengers led the charge.

  "I cannot retreat," Jehral said.

  "Scratch your honour!" Bartolo said. He turned to Shani. "Stand by me. I'll carve a way out."

  Shani smiled sadly. "You know that's impossible."

  "Then I'll take as many of them with me as I can!"

  Bartolo drew his zenblade and called forth its power. His armoursilk blazed like the sun as he pointed his weapon at the avengers leading the charge.

  Jehral lifted his scimitar above his head. "Charge!" he cried.

  The Hazarans cried out as one, spurring their horses into action.

  Just outside the gates of Seranthia, the two forces met in one final cataclysmic crash of blood and death.