“Captain Gatlor.”
He turned to see the object of his thoughts walking toward him. Several members of the Circle accompanied her.
“Loremaster Seryn.” He inclined his head to her. At least she was not requiring everyone to call her High One. The words would have a bitter taste when they finally came out of his mouth once she was ready to accept the title. For now, at least while their current perils persisted, he would focus on suppressing his anger for her prior lack of action. His duty to Lore’s Haven demanded it.
“How does the situation look, Captain?”
“We have archers stationed along the wall, along with a number of saiken. So long as everyone does their duty, it should be over quickly, with minimal losses, if any.”
She gave him an odd look. “Is there any reason to suspect some will not do their duty?”
For one of the very rare times, his warrior’s self-discipline failed him. He turned to face her squarely. “Some do not,” he said.
She stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded slightly. “I see. Captain, I know that Tal Vardyn valued your counsel. I also know that he encouraged you to speak freely with him at all times, particularly when something was troubling you. I know this because he told me. As his successor, I expect the same forthrightness from you. Since it is obvious you have something on your mind, I invite you to express it openly.”
His gazed flicked to the others and then back to her. “Perhaps now is not the best time or place for such conversations.”
“On the contrary. I believe it is vital that we discuss this now. We need to be certain we understand one another, both now, and for the challenges to come.”
“Very well. The loss of Tal Vardyn’s wisdom and leadership is a grave blow to the morale of our forces, as well as to our chances for eventual victory over our various foes.”
“You believe I should have saved him.”
He raised his chin and looked her in the eye. “Yes.” There. It was out. He waited to see how she would respond.
Brin stepped to Seryn’s side. “You are out of line, Captain!”
Seryn laid a hand on Brin’s arm. “No, he is not,” she said. “His is not the only voice that has found fault with my actions, but his is the most important at this moment.” She turned to him. “So, Captain, let me ask you this: Suppose you gave an order that you felt would accomplish a necessary outcome based upon everything you knew about the situation. And suppose the soldier to whom you gave that order decided to disobey it. In fact, they decided to do the exact opposite. What would you think?”
“I think that soldier would not be serving under me if he cannot obey my orders.”
“Even if he thought his way was better and would serve a more important purpose?”
“I am the commanding officer. The men and women serving in the Lore’s Haven forces can either follow my orders or find another place.”
“It is their duty to follow your orders.”
“Without question.”
“Then why do you hold me to a different standard?”
He frowned. “A different standard. In what way?”
She indicated a Warder standing nearby. “Just as you are this man’s superior, Tal Vardyn was my superior. Not only that, but he was my friend, a claim I doubt you could make. And yet, while you expect your orders to be obeyed, you fault me for obeying the orders of my superior. Does that not seem odd to you?”
Her words echoed in his thoughts. In his dismay over the High One’s death, he had not considered that Seryn was following orders just as the men and women under him did. He stared at her without answering. She searched his eyes, and then continued.
“I knew Tal Vardyn before you ever came to Lore’s Haven, Captain. We were students together, and I am proud to have called him my friend. Did you know he asked my counsel when Captain Bartyn recommended you as his successor? I told him then what I still believe now: that you are the most capable, reliable, and loyal man I have ever met, and that no one else would be able to fill Bartyn’s position better than you.” When he still did not speak, she went on. “You believe having Tal Vardyn here now to be a better outcome than having the goodwill of the nasaiken. In truth, I would prefer that myself. But Tal believed we needed to mend the rift between us and those cast out by traditions based in superstition and fear. He felt it was so vital that he was willing to give his very life to that end. Who was I to question him? Believe me, Captain, when I tell you that allowing Tal Vardyn to die was the single most difficult thing I have ever had to do, as a Loremaster, and as a friend. His final moments will haunt me for the rest of my life, and I would give my own life to have him standing here now. But I refuse to dishonor his office, or our friendship, by thinking my way was better than his.”
Gatlor pondered her words as she finished. Did he have it wrong? Had her inaction been a symbol of her failure, or was it actually a symbol of her strength? Could he have obeyed such an order had it been within his power to save the High One? Or would he have, to use Seryn’s words, believed his way to be the better one? He could not, even to himself, say with certainty that he could have allowed Tal Vardyn to die. And yet Seryn had been able to carry out the High One’s final order in spite of her personal feelings, which were obviously closer to his than he realized. Clearly, he had underestimated her. He looked at Brin.
“Loremaster Brin, you are correct. I was, indeed, out of line.” He turned to Seryn and bowed. “Loremaster Seryn, my judgment of you was hasty and unwarranted. Please accept my apologies.”
Before Seryn could respond, a shout caught their attention. He looked to see one of the Warders pointing to the creatures below. He glanced down to see that they had begun their approach. He watched as the front lines scrambled up the slippery slope, only to slide back. Where they had been however, he saw lines of trapsilk on the ground. The next charge advanced further, as they used the trapsilk to give them purchase. Again, the lead creatures slid backwards, and again, they left behind glimmering strands of silk, covering the loose ground.
“So that is their solution to the slope,” Calador said.
“It will avail them little,” Gatlor said. He took a step back from the edge and turned to the archers lining the wall. “Revin!” he shouted. The archery commander looked up and nodded.
“Archers at the ready!” Revin ordered. The archers raised their bows, pulling the drawstrings back and lining up their shots. “Release!” Revin shouted. A swarm of arrows flew down towards the attackers. Almost immediately, clouds of trapsilk erupted from the sides, crossing in front of the arrows and ensnaring them. Although a few of the arrows made it through, it was only a fraction of the full volley. The silk fell to the ground, taking the trapped arrows with it. This had the added effect of giving the approaching creatures more purchase on the loose rock.
“An impressive defense,” Seerka said. “We will run out of arrows before we stop enough of them to make a difference.”
“We have more than arrows,” Gatlor said. “Loremaster Seryn?”
Seryn turned to the forces lining the wall. “Saiken prepare!” A line of men and women stepped forward to the edge of the wall. Gatlor saw dimsai of various colors erupt around their upraised hands. “Attack!” Blazing bolts of power streaked toward the leading Manarachs. He watched as the power reached the front lines of the enemy…and then disappeared without a trace.
“What?” Gatlor looked again, but the creatures continued their advance, unhindered and unharmed by the saiken attack.
Loremaster Brin stepped up beside him. “Look,” he said, pointing at the line of Manarachs closest. “Around their necks. Those must contain Blood Iron. It is absorbing our power.”
Gatlor looked and saw what appeared to be sacks of silk hanging about the necks of the nearest creatures. “I have underestimated them,” he said. “Clearly, they are more clever than I gave them credit for.”
“It seems we will need to change our tactics,” Seerka said.
�
�If they breach the wall, no tactics will suffice,” Gatlor answered. “The forces we have now cannot stand against this attack if our saiken and archers are ineffective.”
“Let me contact my people,” Calador said. “Our natural armor should give us protection against the creatures.”
“How long will it take them to prepare?” Gatlor asked. “We have little time.”
Calador grinned. “Although my people are philosophical at the core, we do love a good fight. They have been ready since the Altered first returned. They simply await word from Lore’s Haven.”
“They have it,” Gatlor said. He looked at the defenders along the wall. “Continue the attack!” he shouted. “Stagger the volleys!” He turned to Seryn. “We need a portal to the Dokal village. We have no time to go to the primary portals in the keep.”
She turned to the defenders on the battlement. “Saiken, attend! Has anyone here been to the Dokal village and can open a portal to it?” Several men and women raised their hands in answer to her question. “Kellin,” she gestured to a dark-haired man, “take Calador back to his village and be prepared to open a return portal for the Dokal.”
“Can you open the return portal to the courtyard?” Calador asked. When Kellin nodded, Calador looked to Gatlor. “Every moment saved counts.”
“Just hurry,” Gatlor said.
Once Kellin and Calador vanished through the portal, Gatlor turned his attention back to the attackers. The lead Manarachs were getting close the base of the wall. More of the arrows were getting through with the staggered attacks, but the vast majority still fell to the ground, entangled in the Manarach silk. Occasional bursts of dimsai rained down upon the attackers, but, as before, the power was absorbed by the Blood Iron.
“If we cannot attack them directly, can we at least slow them down somehow?” he asked Seryn. “Is there some way to nullify the silk they are using to give them footing? We need to do something to delay them until the Dokal return.”
Seryn peered down at the army and nodded. “Yes.” She turned back to the saiken. “Saiken! Attack the silk on the ground in front of the creatures. We have more forces coming, but we need to slow the Manarach advance until they arrive.”
The defenders changed the angle of their dimsai blasts and began attacking the slope in front of and above the lead Manarachs. Gatlor watched as the change in targets incinerated the foremost strands of silk. The explosions also had the added effect of showering the nearest creatures with dirt and sharp shards of stone. The Manarachs backed away, holding their arms up to shield themselves from the flying rocks.
“Yes!” Gatlor said. “Continue to press the attack. Force them back.” If they could make the creatures retreat, perhaps they could move their counter attacks forward onto the vacated ground and keep burning the silk away.
Unintelligible shouting coming from the back of the army drew his gaze to the edge of the forest. One of the Manarach queens was shouting at the warriors. The Manarachs at the front of the attack looked back to the queens, and then lifted the silken sacks of Blood Iron from around their necks and threw them forward to the vacated ground. The bundles split apart as they hit, scattering the ore across the ground. Immediately, the dimsai attacks dispersed, vanishing into the ore without a trace. Gatlor’s heart sank as he saw the Manarach’s resume their advance.
One of the saiken, reacting quickly to the Manarach tactic, sent a blazing bolt of power at one of the now-unprotected attackers. The blast sent the creature hurling backward into the ranks behind it. The other saiken followed suit, quickly dispatching the first rank of the army. It had little effect, however, as the other creatures, still protected by their bags of Blood Iron, simply crawled over their fallen warriors, and resumed laying the silk down on the ground. It would only be a matter of moments before they reached the base of the wall.
“Clear the courtyard!” A shout from below pulled his attention away from the attack. He looked down into the courtyard and saw that a large portal had formed. Men and women scattered as a column of Dokal, four wide, came thundering out of the portal, heading for the gates of the keep. He could almost feel the vibrations as they rumbled past.
“Open the gates!” he shouted to the Warders stationed there. His command snapped them out of their shock at seeing the gigantic warriors racing toward them. They threw their strength into opening the gates. Gatlor’s command must have been relayed or overheard because he saw the outer portcullis also rising. The first warriors had to duck slightly to clear the iron bars, but the rest ran through easily as the grating rose out of the way. Dokal were still coming through the portal as the first of them ran past the Warders manning the gates.
Perhaps it would be enough. But then again, Manarachs were among the deadliest creatures of Teleria. There had to be more they could do; some way to aid the Dokal. His gaze roamed the battlefield, where arrows still fell like rain, even though most were ineffective. He looked at the archers on the wall. They needed another angle of attack.
“Revin!” he called the archery commander. “These are not all of your archers. Where are the rest?”
“They stand ready in the barracks,” the commander replied.
“Have them go to the stables and mount up. Ride out after the Dokal and attack the Manarach from behind their ranks. If we can catch them unaware from the side, we may be able to cut their numbers.”
Revin nodded and grabbed the nearest archer. Just as the man began running to the barracks, Gatlor had another thought. “Tell the stable master to send the charnoths out as well!” he shouted at the man’s back. The soldier signaled that he understood, and then sprinted away. Gatlor turned back to the battle.
Dokal, mounted archers, and charnoth. He just hoped it would be enough.
*****
Jason jerked awake, throwing his arms up in front of his face. He relaxed slowly as he realized he was not under attack.
“Jason.”
His head snapped to the right at the sound of his name. When he saw Lenai, with Meryl standing behind her, his arms dropped down and he laid his head back on the table. Looking around, he saw he was back in the healing area of Lore’s Haven.
“Oh man,” he breathed. “I didn’t think he was ever gonna stop.”
“What did he do to you?” Lenai asked. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to fight. That’s all. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t ask for anything, didn’t make any demands. He just wanted me to fight him.” He shook his head. “And I don’t know what happened to him, but he’s so much stronger than he was before, even when he had Regor’s help. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t even touch him.” The memory of Bothan laughing as Jason threw blast after blast at him ran through his mind. If he was that strong, and could even control others, how could they possibly hope to beat him?
“Jason! Are you well?” Crin’s voice forced itself to the front of his thoughts.
Yeah, I’m okay. For now.
“I tried to come to you, but I could not tell where you were.”
It’s probably better that you weren’t there anyway. Safer, at least.
“Well, I am coming to you now.”
“He almost killed you,” Meryl said, coming around to stand beside Lenai.
“I’m pretty sure he could have if he wanted to,” Jason said. “I guess he didn’t want to. At least not yet.”
“That will be the mistake that undoes him,” Lenai said. “Never play with an enemy lest they find a way to defeat you.”
“Well, if there’s a way to beat him, I don’t know what it is.”
“You will find a way. I am certain of it.”
“I hope so.” He looked around the room. “No Loremasters? Every time I’ve woken up in here, there’s been at least one or two standing over me. Where is everyone?”
Lenai and Meryl exchanged glances. Then Lenai said, “Lore’s Haven is being attacked by Manarachs as we speak. The Circle helps defend the keep.”
“What? I need to get o
ut there.” He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the table. “They might need help.”
“You should rest,” Meryl said. “The Circle can handle the Manarach.”
“I feel fine,” Jason said, pushing their hands away.
“Well, that’s just grand,” Bothan’s voice hit Jason’s ear like a slap. “Then you’ll be ready to have another go at it.”
Jason dropped off the table and spun to face his ancestor. Lenai moved to put herself between them, but Jason grabbed her arm.
“No,” he told her. “Don’t.”
“I will not let him take you again,” she said, drawing her dagger.
“How touching. But ye canna stop me, lass.” Bothan gestured, and Lenai and Meryl staggered backwards, falling against the wall, to be held there by a wall of translucent force. Bothan cocked an eye at Lenai. “Now you just behave, or else the next time you die it’ll be permanent.”
Lenai struggled as she spat a stream of epithets in Shanthi at her captor. Jason had no idea what they meant, but the emotion he felt radiating from her gave him a pretty good idea.
Bothan gave her a bemused look. “I really need to learn Shanthi someday,” he said. He gestured, and the two girls’ heads snapped to the side. The power disappeared, and they slid to the floor.
“What did you do?” Jason ran to Lenai’s side, giving a sigh of relief as he saw that she was still breathing.
“Calm yourself, lad. They’re not dead. Not yet anyway.”
Jason stood up. “Why are you doing this?”
Bothan shrugged. “Because it makes me happy. Now, it’s time we resumed your lessons.”
Soul of Power Page 20