by Claire Frank
Taking a quick glance at the gates, Daro could see they were in poor shape. Large cracks ran through the stone above the pillars in the center of the two arches, and piles of rubble stood in front of the portcullis where pieces of the wall had fallen.
Daro took a few steps back and looked up. His eyesight was sharp enough to see the dim shape of Cecily leaning between the parapets and looking down. She stood atop the wall with Dashal, Raed, and the other Imarans, ready to provide cover if necessary. He felt the warm assurance of her presence through their bond, and took a deep breath of the cold air to center himself.
“Are we ready?” Daro asked, turning to the others. After the general had agreed to their plan, they’d made hasty preparations to attempt weakening the bridge. Daro hoped they would do enough damage before dawn that it wouldn’t matter if Attalon broke through the gates the next day; they would be ready for them.
“Ready as we can be, I suppose,” Shale said. “Although I reckon we’re going to make enough noise to attract some attention.”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Daro said. “Dashal will keep visibility low on the other side of the chasm, and the sound of the wind will help. Plus we’ve had Shapers working on the stronghold continuously; hopefully the enemy will assume it’s simply workers making repairs. We just need to work fast until the sun comes up. Are you certain you’ll have time to dig under the fortress once we have the bridge sufficiently weakened? Because if you need to start now….”
Shale shook his head. “The ground here is almost all solid rock. It will do what I ask; shouldn’t take too long. Besides, this beast of a bridge won’t budge so easily. You need me out here.”
“Fair enough,” Daro said. “We’ll start on the far side and try to weaken it there. Then we’ll move to the center.”
The other men nodded and they made their way across the wide span. Dashal’s wind rose, and Daro could see the faint lines of energy as the wind brushed across the plain on the other side of the chasm, picking up a swell of dust. A thick layer of clouds hid the stars, but so far their luck had held and it hadn’t rained; the ground was dry.
Pathius stopped in the middle. “Careful. It’s going to get slick.”
Crouching down, he placed his hands on the surface of the bridge and a glossy sheen of ice spread outward. Daro could see the energy flowing through the bridge and into Pathius, although it was complex, not the simple movement of energy through stone that he would expect. The ice raced over the expanse, sliding and snapping beneath their feet.
Pathius rose, his eyes shining with siphoned energy. Daro nodded, and hoisted the Shaper-wrought steel hammer over his shoulder as they walked to the far side of the bridge.
Shale’s first blow reverberated through Daro’s feet as he readied himself to strike. Pulling in a rush of power, Daro felt his body strengthen, the hammer light in his grasp. He raised it over his head and hurled it down, smashing the stone with a ringing crash. Lifting it again, he set to work, pounding the bridge in a steady rhythm. His hands slid down the handle as the hammer fell, his body warming despite the cold. He let his mind go clear as he worked, falling into a cadence as the others worked nearby.
A sharp pop echoed off the chasm walls as Stoker ignited a stone. Daro glanced over, and through the gloom he could see the three men laboring farther across the span. Adjusting his feet, he moved outward, and began another series of blows. Even with his enhanced strength, the damage he inflicted seemed only superficial, the breaks in the stone shallow. Perhaps he would need Stoker’s help as well.
“This isn’t working,” Shale said, calling to Daro.
Daro looked down. The cracks at his feet were too slight. “This won’t be enough. I can’t seem to do any real damage.”
As he peered at the stone, watching the flows of energy, Pathius came to stand beside him.
“There’s something in the stone, isn’t there?” Pathius asked.
“I can’t explain it,” Daro said. “It’s not behaving like it should.”
Pathius nodded. “I think I can help.” Spreading his hands wide, he held them out, palm down.
Daro watched the energy move through the surface of the bridge, bending as if it were being pulled apart. The thick flows of power separated and straightened, and Daro looked up at Pathius. None of the energy was flowing into him as it would if he was Absorbing. Although Daro didn’t fully understand what Pathius was doing, he could see the bridge change.
“Try it now,” Pathius said.
Lifting his hammer, Daro slammed it down. A thick crack opened up where it hit and Daro could feel the difference. “Let’s keep going.”
The men worked as the night wore on. Sweat trickled down Daro’s back, and he drew in a steady stream of power to amplify his strikes. Large chunks of stone burst from the bridge as he worked, and the cracks grew larger. Pathius froze the rock to weaken it and explosions rang out into the night as Stoker’s stones burst, the vibrations rippling through the span. When the far side seemed sufficiently damaged, they moved to the center and continued, working to compromise the integrity of the span.
As Daro paused to catch his breath, he wiped his brow and looked up at the sky. The first rays of dawn filtered through the clouds, turning the world a dismal gray. Although the cracks in the bridge were deepening, he didn’t think they were doing enough harm that they could collapse the bridge from the underside. It needed to be weakened further before he could be certain it would fall—but they were running out of time.
He turned and waved to the top of the wall, signaling Dashal to pick up the wind and thicken the dust cloud. The air blew past, pelting him with debris as he set to work again, his hammer ringing against the surface of the span.
Something caught his attention on the far side and he paused, letting the hammer’s head rest against the ground. A figure coalesced on the plain, walking toward them through the dust storm. Squinting his eyes against the wind, Daro crossed the bridge as a hulking man in black armor emerged from the dust. Thick plates of dark metal covered his body, embellished with gold. In one hand he carried a tall shield, emblazoned with the likeness of the Emperor. In the other, a spear, tipped with a tall, sleek blade. He moved with a fluidity that belied his armament, walking as if he wore no armor at all.
“Keep working,” Daro said. “I’ll give you more time. If this gets serious, retreat to the stronghold.”
Pathius shook his head. “There’s no way we’re leaving you out here.”
“Just make sure the bridge is ready,” Daro said.
Pathius nodded as Daro let the hammer drop and drew his Heorun blade.
Suddenly keenly aware of his inferior armor, Daro pulled in a rush of energy. He’d figured the Attalonians would start with trebuchets, not send someone to face them one on one. Watching as the man approached, Daro stepped back in confusion. His Imaran Sight sensed nothing. Where he should have seen swirling lines of flowing energy moving through the man, he saw nothing but a ceaseless void, an intense blackness that seemed to swallow the air around it, folding it inward around the figure.
Gripping the hilt of his sword, Daro stood tall as the wind rushed past. His heart raced as he tried to find some sign of life in the approaching warrior. Even a walking corpse would have appeared more natural than this abomination.
The man stopped before the entrance to the bridge, looking at Daro through his dark helm. “Why are you on my bridge?”
His accent was thick, but Daro understood the words. “It isn’t your bridge.”
A cold smile spread over his face. “I beg to differ. The fortress is already mine. Today, we cross.”
Daro shook his head and held his sword ready. The warrior’s lack of energy was jarring. “No, you won’t.”
The warrior’s black spear shot out like an arrow, hurling toward Daro. Reacting on instinct, Daro deflected the strike, but he hadn’t seen it coming. The spear retracted, pulled back on a chain, and the warrior caught it in his hand.
&nbs
p; “You are the champion of Halthas?” the warrior said. “The one they tell me has been wreaking so much havoc on my army?”
“Are you the emperor?” Daro asked. Stories of the much-feared emperor abounded, but Daro wasn’t certain what was true and what was merely legend. Could that account for the strange lack of energy?
The warrior tilted his head to the side. “I am General Axxus, commander of the conquering armies of His Eminence, Emperor Horadrus, Most Glorious God-King of Attalon. You are nothing but a vile beast. By the end of the day, we will have you all bound the way you should be.”
The spear raced toward Daro again and he clipped it with his blade, sidestepping to avoid the cut. Axxus pulled his weapon back and lunged with blinding speed. Daro deflected the strike, but Axxus moved like a blur, changing direction as he thrust. Pulling in more energy, Daro answered with a burst of strength, driving his blade upward. The spear met his blow, the clang of the weapons echoing off the walls.
Axxus stepped back and the spear sprang at Daro, hurling forward on its retracting chain. Daro struck it down, but his senses were muddled and his inability to See the other man’s energy left him feeling blinded. Gritting his teeth, he deflected the next blow, narrowly escaping the blade.
Daro spun, bringing his sword around in a tight arc, but Axxus was faster, meeting Daro’s cut with a flick of his spear. With a quick thrust, Daro poured energy into his blow, and his sword sliced through the air as the wind swept across the bridge. Axxus blocked, knocking Daro’s blade aside, and thrust his spear again. It sliced across Daro’s arm, cutting through his mail, and left a hot streak of pain behind.
Shaking his arm to ward off the sudden feeling of weakness, Daro pressed his attack, but Axxus was too fast. Every blow was met by a swift strike of Axxus’s spear. Even as Daro pushed himself, drawing in more energy, he couldn’t match the other man’s speed, and the ineffectiveness of his Imaran Sight kept him from anticipating Axxus’s movements.
Seeing an opening, Daro struck with all the force he could muster. His blow met the warrior’s shield, ricocheting off the surface as if he’d hit a solid wall. Axxus scarcely moved, standing as if carved from stone as Daro stumbled; then he thrust the shield at Daro, smashing him backward. Struggling to keep his feet, Daro retreated a few steps, turning the tip of Axxus’s spear aside as it shot toward him. Axxus lunged again, slamming Daro with his shield, and knocked him into the air. Daro landed on his back with a grunt.
Retracting the spear into his hand, Axxus stepped back and rested the butt of his weapon on the ground. “Disappointing.”
Daro heard voices calling to him from the bridge as he picked himself up. Clenching his fist around the hilt of his sword, he resisted the powerful urge to attack. Despite his power, he knew he was outmatched, and a prolonged fight would risk exposing their work on the bridge. Swallowing his pride, he took slow steps backward until he felt his feet reach the stone surface of the span.
“This isn’t over,” Daro said.
Axxus laughed, his voice carrying over the din of the scouring wind as Daro turned his back on him and walked back across the bridge. Daro could almost feel the other man’s contempt boring through him, and his shoulders clenched in a tight knot as arrows rained down, covering his retreat. The others were already up the ropes when he reached the stronghold, so he sheathed his blade and climbed to the top, hoping they’d done enough to weaken the massive bridge. The next phase of their plan was about to begin.
59. THE BRIDGE
The stronghold rumbled beneath Pathius’s feet as another stone hit the fortress. It rankled him to know they were going to give so much ground to Attalon, but he knew it was inevitable. Daro’s plan was reckless, but he was right. They weren’t going to hold the bridge much longer, and if they could cut the enemy army in half, separating them from their ranged weapons and supply lines, they’d have a chance at defeating them. Despite the work the Stone Shapers had done to repair and reinforce the gates in between the attacks, the fortress could only hold out for so long. Attalon’s onslaught was relentless.
The appearance of the warrior calling himself Axxus had been a disturbing development. Pathius could not see in the way of Imarans as Ara had described it to him, but he could sense the presence of energy. Most people felt like a glowing coal, giving off a smoldering warmth. Daro burned hot like a raging fire; his power had once been a heavy temptation. Axxus gave off no energy at all. It had not been muted, or suppressed, nor had there been a sensation of cold. There had been a void, as if Axxus defied the existence of life as Pathius understood it. And his easy defeat of Daro, a man whom Pathius had thought unmatched in speed and strength, was enormously disconcerting. Pathius had even attempted to intervene, trying to Absorb from Axxus as he fought, but his attack had slid off the warrior’s armor as if it were ice.
Daro jogged over to where Pathius stood behind a parapet. He still carried the huge work hammer at his belt on one side, his Thayan sword on the other. Strapped to his back was yet another weapon, the strange longsword he always kept wrapped in leather. “Shale is almost ready. The rest of the army is making their retreat. It’s time to take down the bridge.”
Pathius nodded and followed Daro down through the stronghold. They had been staging a token defense for most of the day, deflecting some of the payloads that soared over the chasm, while allowing others to break through. The army had begun their flight shortly after dawn, leaving only a few soldiers to help keep up the pretense of defending the fortress. With the beating the gates had taken, Pathius was fairly certain it wouldn’t be long before Attalon broke through.
Daro led him down a dark staircase into a storage cellar beneath the fortress. Shale had opened a hole in the ground, revealing a tunnel through the rock. Letting Daro in first, Pathius followed, bracing himself against the rough walls as he walked down the slope.
They emerged in a wide cavern with a low ceiling, leading out onto a ledge in the side of the chasm wall. The bridge stretched out directly above them. Somehow it looked even larger from below.
Pathius looked around, open-mouthed. “Shale, you did all this today?”
Shale shrugged, running a hand across his bald head. “It took some work.”
The others gathered in the cavern, waiting for Attalon to finally break through the gates. Raed, Kentan, and Leng stood near the edge, looking down at the sheer drop. Daro’s eyes were fixed on the bridge, watching as if he could see through it. Shale and Cecily spoke quietly together at the back of the cavern, while Dashal sat apart, his legs tucked up to his chest as he fidgeted with something in his hands. Griff and Serv had taken a small force to retrieve the ship they had found, in order to give the group a means of retreat once the bridge was down.
The tension was palpable and Pathius walked over to stand beside Stoker. He hovered near the edge, rolling a few rocks in his palm.
“You think it’ll work?” Stoker asked. Pathius could hear the worry in his voice.
“It has to,” Pathius said. He wished he could offer more assurance, but there was little of it to be had in war.
Raed approached and held out a long, Imaran spear. “Take this. You may have need of it this day.”
“Thank you,” Pathius said as he took the weapon. The shaft was smooth in his hand. “This isn’t your fight, you know. Things aren’t exactly looking up for us and I’d understand if you choose not to stay.”
“We will see this through,” Raed said. “Even the Raeswa know that this threat may be different. It could come to our doors. I will do what I can to keep that from happening. It is for your homeland that you fight. We do the same.”
Pathius pressed his lips together and nodded. He was grateful to the three Imarans for all they had done and the loyalty they had shown him. His thoughts drifted to Ara, and instead of pushing her memory aside as he usually did, he indulged in a brief recollection. His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing her again.
He stepped closer to Raed and lowered his voice. “
I realize this will sound foolish and sentimental, but if I don’t make it out of this alive, tell Ara….” His voice drifted off; he couldn’t seem to find the right words.
“I will tell her,” Raed said and Pathius was relieved to hear no sign of scorn in the other man’s voice.
Waiting in silence, they listened to the barrage from the trebuchets pounding against the gatehouse. With no one left to deflect the volley, the booms came seconds apart and it wasn’t long before an enormous crash rang out above them. Chunks of stone rolled off the bridge to either side of their hideout, tumbling down into the chasm with a clatter of debris.
The gates were breached.
A low rumble rose from the far side of the chasm as the Attalonian army marched for the bridge, the footsteps of thousands of men echoing from the walls. Horns blared loud signals and Pathius shifted on his feet as the clamor grew. More stones scraped across the surface and plummeted from the sides as the first Attalonians across cleared the rubble. Then the steady rhythm of their advance pounded on the span, the cadence sending a jolt up Pathius’s spine with each step.
Daro gathered his Imaran longbow, and Stoker fiddled with the first thick arrow as they waited. Men continued to cross, pouring into the stronghold, and Pathius’s heart beat with anticipation.
“We need to take it down,” Pathius said.
“Not yet,” Daro said, his face still upturned as he watched the underside of the bridge. Pathius wondered what he could see.
Tense minutes passed and everyone moved near the edge to stare up at the span. Rocks clattered down the walls as the rhythm of marching feet continued.
Holding a hand out to Stoker, Daro turned to the rest of them and nodded. “Now.”
Stoker clutched a jagged piece of stone until it glowed between his fingers, then hastily fastened it to the end of an arrow. As Daro drew back on his long bow, Stoker readied another. With a twang, Daro’s arrow loosed, slicing through the air toward the center of the bridge.