Messenger from Myris Dar (The Stone Guardians Book 1)

by Kindrie Grove

  The closer they drew to Lok Myrr the more oppressed the atmosphere grew. Snow lay thinly over the ground and the few straggling clumps of heavily grazed grasses were bent in the slicing wind. Vegetation grew close to the ground among sharp stones.

  Movement caught Rowan’s attention far upslope and she shaded her eyes to see what it was. A small herd of scrawny goats was moving higher up, herded by a small child in bulky sheepskins, skinny bare legs exposed to the cold air. The child was urging the goats onward with a stick, glancing fearfully down at them.

  A shadow fell over Rowan and she turned to see Torrin, laden with sleeping rolls and blankets. “You should try to get some sleep while you can, Rowan.”

  “How close are we to the fortress?”

  “Arynilas and Hathunor should be back soon with news from their scouting of the fortress’s vale. They will be able to tell us of the distances and how best to approach without being seen. We won’t ride out until just before sunset.” Torrin knelt down beside her and bundled a blanket behind her for a pillow. He gently pushed her back to rest. “I know it is hard to rest, but you look like you could fall asleep in the midst of a battle.”

  Rowan groaned and curled up on her side, closing her eyes as Torrin covered her with another fleece. She reached into her belt pouch and retrieved the smooth hard weight of the Mor’A Taith’s gift. “Tell Dalemar the visualization is getting easier and more clear. Tell him it is helping – I sometimes find the things I visualize in the dream.”

  Rowan surrendered to the heavy pull of sleep as a last thought trickled through her mind.

  It is now only a matter of time. For good or ill, the dream will end when we reached Lok Myrr.

  Lok Myrr

  Rowan squinted into the dusk as a cold breeze lifted loose strands of her hair. She shifted on the hard, frozen ground and lifted her head higher to see over the ridge. Grey and brown rock greeted her. Snow dotted the valley and the higher slopes, and gigantic boulders sat immovable throughout the landscape. Lok Myrr fortress was set within a ring of peaks at the end of the long valley. It jutted upward, like a stiff-fingered hand perched on the flank of one of the mountains, each high tower aligned with the four directions. Cut directly from the granite rock of the mountain, the lower half of the enormous structure hulked with squat proportions and a depressive air. Its top half was crudely built of huge rough-hewn blocks, quarried from the same stone as the lower section but probably added later. It was cold and sullen, like a giant’s toy that had been put together clumsily. The fortress boasted a long drawbridge that spanned a steep chasm between the front gate and the surrounding rock. Buttresses soared upwards to thick crenellated battlements which commanded a clear view of the narrow road cut through the barren valley leading up to the fortress. The massive arched gate with its heavy iron portcullis stood closed and unassailable.

  Rowan closed her eyes and rested her forehead down on her hands. The fortress didn’t seem to have any weakness.

  Torrin, lying on his belly next to her, cursed quietly under his breath.

  “The attempt will have to be made in the dark,” said Nathel from Rowan’s other side.

  Torrin grunted in agreement. “Can you see anything, Arynilas? Any weakness?”

  The Tynithian shook his head. “Not as yet.”

  “We’re going t’ need ropes an’ grappling hooks,” said Borlin, the most experienced climber among them.

  Rowan lifted her head. “Is it possible Miroth could have magical wards set around the perimeter?”

  They turned to look at her, disquiet in their eyes.

  “Isn’t that a lovely thought,” said Nathel sourly.

  “It is something I would do if I could,” said Dalemar.

  Torrin looked back at the distant fortress, chewing on his lower lip. “Will you be able to detect any wards we come across?”

  Dalemar nodded. “Detect them, yes. Get us through them without alerting Miroth… that is another thing entirely.”

  Rowan switched her attention to the mountain behind Lok Myrr. The slope was steep but looked to be navigable. “Couldn’t we circle around and climb down the mountain face behind the fortress? Maybe the defences won’t be as strong at the back. It is the least likely place to be attacked.”

  Nathel nodded. “The moat doesn’t look to circle the entire fortress. It might be our best chance. What do you think, Arynilas?”

  “You are right; the chasm does not completely circle the fortress. The mountain slope is steep but we should be able to climb down it. Also the battlements are not as high at the back because of the mountain’s rise.” The Tynithian looked over at Torrin. “It would seem to be the best course.”

  “Then we must make for those slopes, circling around behind,” said Torrin. “When we get close enough to see what kind of force is manning the walls, we can make further plans.” He looked at his friends and received nods from everyone.

  As the others began to crawl back away from the ridge top, Torrin reached out and caught Rowan’s hand. His grip was warm despite the cold. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? There might be another way to stop Miroth, something else we can do. Even if we make it inside, we have no idea what we will face. There could very well be an entire Raken army in there.”

  Rowan swallowed, her mouth very dry. “Are you trying to scare me into turning back?”

  Torrin chuckled sardonically. “If I thought that was possible, I would have attempted it a long time ago.” His gaze turned intense. “No, I just know that its going to get much worse before it gets better. Miroth wants you for something and that frightens me more than you will ever know. I won’t insult you by asking you to stay behind. You are the Keeper and this mission will likely fail without you, but I want to make sure this is truly what you want.”

  Rowan squeezed his hand. “I don’t believe we have a choice. Even if there is another way, we can’t afford the time to look for it. Pellaris cannot stand for much longer – we are their only hope, Torrin, the only ones in a position to stop him. We have to try, even if it means failing.” Rowan took a deep breath. “As for what Miroth wants with me… we will find that out soon enough.”

  He sighed, bringing her cold fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. “You mean more to me than life, Rowan Mor Lanyar. I will give my own to protect you.”

  Rowan closed her eyes and felt tears roll down her cheeks. She shook her head, trembling. Torrin tightened his grip on her hand. She exhaled the breath she had been holding. “I can’t bear the thought of it.”

  “It’s the truth, my love.”

  She nodded, her chest tight. “We will keep each other safe.”

  They both turned to look one last time at Lok Myrr fortress, its walls fading in the Twilight.

  Shadows in the Night

  The black bulk of Lok Myrr fortress loomed out of the darkness below. Rowan scanned the battlements and towers in the dim bluish glow from Bashelar, just rising above the rim of surrounding mountains. Fortunately, clouds were massing and would obscure most of the light soon – it was a gift. Of Raelys, there was no sign yet.

  Rowan tucked her sore hands under her arms against the cold wind and tried to imagine what the eclipse of the two moons would look like. Dalemar had shown her the detailed star charts he had been given by the head archivist at the great library, but they had been just lines and points on a parchment to her. Dalemar had poured over them, finally concluding that the eclipse foretold in Rowan’s message would happen tomorrow night. Rowan focused on the wide battlements below and tried to will her tense muscles to relax. If they breached the fortress below, they would have no way to confirm Dalemar’s prediction of the twin moons’ fated positions.

  If we gain entry to Lok Myrr, it won’t matter if there is an eclipse tomorrow night. There will be no turning back.

  Rowan turned as Arynilas appeared beside her on the ledge they had climbed down to. He checked her ropes and began to take up the slack for the next leg. The rope was little
more than a precaution for the Tynithian, who scaled the rocks effortlessly, but Rowan relied on it heavily. She craned to look back up at the ridge from which they had started the descent over an hour ago, but she could see nothing beyond the face they had just come down. Borlin, leading the way with Dalemar, had carefully selected the route down to the scree slope below. Torrin, Nathel and Hathunor were still above, lost in darkness.

  Rowan turned to look back down. Borlin and Dalemar were small shadows clinging to the rock near the bottom. She had been amazed to see the wealth of climbing gear Borlin had produced from the packs strapped to one of the packhorses. Ropes and harnesses, buckles and circular loops and strange little devices used to jam into rock crevices so lines could be attached. The Stoneman handled the gear with expertise and she noted the rest of her friends were not strangers to it either.

  Myris Dar had many volcanoes, new and old, but the climbing she had done at home had been free-hand where there were easy foot and handholds.

  Thick clouds passed in front of Bashelar, obscuring what little visibility they had for long moments. When the moon light shone once again Arynilas stepped lightly forward, positioned himself facing outward, and touched her on the shoulder to signal that he was ready for her to descend once again.

  Rowan turned her back on the fortress below and, crouching, placed her hands carefully on the rough rock. She had already abraded the skin on her knuckles from placing her hands too quickly. She felt for her holds, then repeated the process for her feet. She leaned briefly against the rope and pushed herself away from the rock face, confident that the Tynithian would hold her, to survey the route down. Straining to see the possible foot and hand holds in the darkness, she began to move down. Climbing down was harder than climbing up, Borlin had told her. She had learned quickly why as she sought to place her feet blindly. The first few times she had panicked and wanted to move back up, but now she was able to calmly trust the tactile assurances of her toes.

  The dark form of Hathunor appeared to her right as she placed her feet into a small crevice. The Saa Raken had refused the rope when offered, not that any of the companions could have held him had he fallen, but they soon discovered he was almost as at home on the vertical cliff as he was on the ground. He moved past her across the rock face – a shadow slipping before the moon.

  Rowan returned her attention to the next foothold and began to climb down. It was a slow, laborious process and she could see almost nothing of her companions above and below. When she finally reached the broad scree slope at the base of the cliff, her arms and fingers were weak and aching.

  I hope I will be able to grip my sword properly.

  Borlin, busy coiling ropes and stashing gear behind a large boulder flashed a broad grin at her. Hathunor was crouched not far away, looking down at the fortress. Rowan looked up at the sound of rope scuffing against stone. Arynilas landed softly beside her a moment later. She began to unbuckle her harness, cursing her useless fingers, then moved to help collect the remaining rope as it came down below Torrin and Nathel. The brothers reached the bottom and Torrin whispered, “Borlin, pass out some food and water. We need to catch our breath and regain some strength before moving on.” They sat among the boulders to watch the battlements below.

  Rowan sat next to Torrin and accepted the cheese and dried meat Borlin handed her. She took a bite and studied the huge fortress. Up close, the four towers were very tall and wide. The tapered tops rose far above even though they looked down on the battlements from the base of the cliff.

  After a few moments, Arynilas hissed and pointed. Just coming around the north tower were two Raken guards. They walked slowly across the battlement until they disappeared around the east tower.

  Nathel counted quietly as they waited. After a long while two more guards appeared around the north tower, following the same route. For good measure they waited once more for the next guards to appear. The timing wasn’t exact, but it was close.

  “We’ve got two hundred-count or so between guards,” whispered Nathel.

  Torrin stirred beside Rowan and looked away from the fortress to Dalemar. “Anything?” he asked quietly.

  Dalemar shook his head. “I can’t sense anything.”

  Hathunor stiffened and emitted a low growl from his throat. He gestured toward the fortress below with a large black arm, his head cocked to the side, listening intently.

  “What is it?” whispered Torrin.

  Hathunor turned to look at him. “Hathunor can sense Draes in there,” he rumbled.

  Torrin looked back at the fortress below and then at the Saa Raken again. “You can sense the Raken? Why now?”

  Hathunor shook his head. “Saa Raken can sense little ones to protect better.”

  “Little ones? Do you mean children, Hathunor?” asked Dalemar quietly.

  Hathunor growled fiercely.

  “The bastard’s breeding them,” hissed Borlin.

  “How long do you suppose it took Miroth to amass his army?” mused Dalemar.

  “It matters not,” said Arynilas softly, “but it does mean that some of the Raken may not be fully mature.”

  “Erys bless us.” Nathel chuckled quietly. “We’ll have one advantage in there if Hathunor can sense some of them. It should even the odds a little. At least we will know in advance when an overwhelming force is coming to kill us.”

  Torrin shook his head. “Why would Hathunor suddenly, after all this time be able to sense his own kin?”

  “Perhaps Miroth has been cloaking them somehow and doesn’t feel the need for that secrecy here,” said Rowan.

  Dalemar’s pale head turned towards them. “If as Hathunor said, he is able to sense the younger ones, then perhaps the army within is made up mostly of children or sub-adult Raken.”

  Torrin turned to the blacker shadow that was Hathunor. “We will need you to guide us through the fortress to avoid your kin, Hathunor. Whether you hear them or can somehow sense them some other way, it will help us navigate.”

  The Saa Raken’s pale, sharp-toothed grin was all they could see of his expression in the darkness.

  “Are we all ready?” asked Torrin quietly.

  They waited in silence until the moonlight was dimmed by the clouds. Then Torrin, Borlin and Nathel stood and hoisted the three scaling ropes with grappling hooks that Borlin had attached while they waited. Rowan stood with the others and they began to move down slope as quietly as possible, clambering carefully over the loose, unstable footing. The night had become more overcast and they used its darkness well, pausing to scout ahead each time the moon shone down and moving on once the scudding clouds brought shadows.

  As they neared the bottom of the rocky slope, the huge wall reared upward in front of them. The darkness was deeper at the base of the wall and Rowan felt a shiver run through her as she looked up toward the top of the battlements of Lok Myrr.

  Miroth is beyond these stones.

  The wall was not as tall here as elsewhere, but it still soared as high as the ramparts of Pellaris. Hundreds of years of falling rock from the peaks above had built up a slope at the rear base of the fortress.

  Torrin stepped back to gain room and began to swing a rope and hook. A very strong toss would reach the top of the battlements.

  Nathel, keeping count, nodded when the guards had passed again. Torrin released and the rope whirred softly up into darkness, then the shaft of the cloth-wrapped hook glinted in moonlight as it flew beyond the shadow. A dull clink sounded above and Torrin quickly took up the slack until the hooks bit into the stone lip of the battlements.

  Arynilas, his bow strapped across his chest along with the other ropes and hooks moved quickly forward. The fastest climber by far, he fluidly began to ascend. Rowan adjusted her footing and strained in the darkness to see up the wall. Once at the top, Arynilas would secure the other two lines, making certain the grappling hooks were hidden. His arrows would silence any Raken that might discover them.

  The rope ceased to move – A
rynilas had made it over the top. The other two ropes dropped down to land with a slithering hiss at the foot of the wall. Once the hooks and lines were attached, Arynilas would disappear into the shadows of the battlements.

  I hope he finds somewhere to hide.

  Nathel, still counting quietly under his breath, tapped Torrin on the back when it was clear above again.

  Torrin, Borlin and Hathunor stepped forward and began their climb. They stopped to wait near the top, hanging silently on the ropes as another patrol passed on their perpetual rounds.

  The ropes stilled as Torrin and the others gained the battlements. Rowan stepped to the wall to make ready. Nathel, still counting, touched her on the shoulder and she reached up to grasp the rough rope. Finally allowed to take action, she exhaled deeply and heaved herself upward with Dalemar and Nathel climbing beside her. Her hands were numb from the cold and it was difficult to feel the rope. They had left their warm fleece hidden beyond the ridge with the horses. The bulky garments would only serve to hinder them in a fight but Rowan missed the warm mantle now as the frigid wind blew through her clothes.

  Breath coming in short gasps, she glanced up – halfway there. She gripped the rope hard and pulled herself up, placing her feet on the wall in front of her.

  Nathel hissed suddenly from her right and she froze with the others, straining to listen – faint footfalls above approached and receded again.

  They climbed once more.

  Rowan was sweating, the cold forgotten when she finally reached the top. Torrin was there, his hand extended to help her up through the crenel.

  They gathered the ropes and piled them in the darkest shadows along the wall of the fortress, where Arynilas and the others had hidden from the passing guards.

  Torrin drew his sword slowly, silently. “We move with the Raken guards to the east tower. Keep close to the wall.”

  Lok Myrr was built for war. The wide battlements were a barren no-man’s land between the fortress and the wall – nowhere to defend from Raken. They would not get away with hiding in shadows much longer. Rowan drew her sword and followed Torrin. Narrow murder holes set in the walls of the fortress above stared out into the night, vertical black voids from which archers could wait to send deadly arrows down. Rowan hunched her shoulders, feeling the potential threat of eyes watching from the sinister openings.