by Brandon Mull
On their way out, the men splashed lantern oil around the room and started fires. That was the signal for Nedwin to return to the roof. His men would split up and disappear along prearranged routes. A few would stay near enough to watch for any emerging stragglers.
Nedwin would slip away quietly as well, using the rooftops as his roads. He needed to get away clean. He had other tasks to perform.
CHAPTER 25
DECISION
Beneath a bright sun Rachel walked along the top of the East Keep’s wall, gazing out at Felrook, the ultimate immovable object, firmly anchored atop the highest prominence in the valley. Even if the imposing castle had not enjoyed such an elevated foundation, its soaring walls and lofty towers would have dwarfed the lesser fortresses around Lake Fellion.
So far Maldor’s central stronghold had proven as unassailable as the loudest skeptics had feared. Since it rested on a massive pillar of solid stone in the midst of a deep lake, nobody had come close to finding a reasonable way to attack it.
And the armies from the east were closing in.
The military leaders were doing all they could to prepare. East Keep was in excellent shape. Ferrin had helped them capture the fortress virtually undamaged. The gates were intact, the catapults and ballistae still functioned, and the interior buildings had not been burned or bombarded.
Brin had kept men busy with heavy projects. At the other keeps, teams had walled off the smashed gates. Strategic trenches had been dug around the keeps and the town beside the ferry. Traps had been set along likely approaches the enemy might use. Men fletched arrows and collected stones to hurl from the walls.
After making sure the keeps were fully manned, Galloran had sent forces to upgrade some of the ruins on the north side of the valley that held high ground. He had arranged his forces to defend against the inevitable onslaught from the east and the possible simultaneous attack from the soldiers who currently held the passes.
Rachel could not help noticing that the preparations mostly centered on withstanding the oncoming armies, not on conquering Felrook. Not that she blamed anyone. She didn’t have any better ideas. They had sent scouts to probe for weaknesses. Those who made it back had nothing favorable to report.
The military leaders were preparing for the part of the campaign they could understand—how to go down fighting when the approaching armies arrived. None of them had a clue how to even bother Felrook. Every day that went by, it seemed less likely that a last-minute message from Jason could somehow turn things around.
Staring at the implacable bulk of the elevated stronghold, Rachel could not help but wallow in all her old doubts. She had striven to disregard her concerns about the prophecy. She had tried to ignore that their mission appeared increasingly impossible. She had attempted to borrow faith from others, to lean on their judgment in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. And here they were, without a workable strategy, waiting to die.
How long was she supposed to keep hoping? Until the enemy armies came into view? Until her friends had fallen? Until she was dead?
There was nothing else left to accomplish. There were no soldiers to muster, no roads to walk, no preliminary challenges to distract from the final goal. They had reached the end of the road, and victory remained as impossible as it had seemed from afar.
Rachel bowed her head. What if the rest of this depended on her? What if the point had been to get her to Felrook with an army ready to take advantage of the opening she would provide? She was the one person with an invitation into the stronghold. What if she accepted the offer, then found a way to create an opening for Galloran and the others?
Or was she just scared? Did she want to hide inside Felrook to avoid being killed by the oncoming armies? Did she want to call “time-out” and try to save herself and her friends before the war really started?
If she secured immunity for her friends, some might not take it. But some might, once the armies arrived and the cause was lost.
Rachel gazed at Felrook, trying to picture Maldor inside, trying to envision the lurkers. What good was she doing out here? At least if she went inside, she would be taking action. Out here she would sit still, use Edomic to protect her friends when the enemy forces arrived, and then die.
Or else Jason would suddenly reveal some hidden path to victory. Maybe some secret weakness to Felrook? Was that really possible? Was it realistic? And if it happened, might she not still be in a better position to take advantage of the weakness if she were already inside of Felrook?
Her Edomic had gotten strong. The fall of West Keep had offered proof. And she hadn’t even reached her limit. Not really. She hadn’t lost consciousness like with the zombies. But if she sat still, doing nothing, the help she might otherwise offer would be wasted.
Nobody would ever ask her to accept Maldor’s offer in order to spy on him and try to harm Felrook from the inside. Galloran was far too protective of her. If she meant to get involved in that way, she would have to take action on her own.
How could she get to Felrook? She would have to steal a boat or something. Nobody would let her leave East Keep unescorted. And what did she know about handling a boat? She would never get close to Felrook on her own. If Maldor really wanted her, he would have to come and get her.
Rachel slipped off the protective charm necklace. Was she really doing this? There were only a few days left. If she wanted time to accomplish anything after her arrival, it was now or never.
She closed her eyes and projected her thoughts, pushing all her mental energy toward Felrook. Maldor? Anyone? She sensed no reply. I’m not sure if anyone can hear me. I’ll accept your offer to come train with you, but you’ll have to get me there. I have no way to access your fortress. I’m at the keep east of you. Help me get to you, and I’ll come.
Rachel opened her eyes. Felrook looked the same. She had exerted her will intensely, but she sensed no reply. She slipped the necklace back around her neck. Should she try again from the edge of the lake? Maybe she was too far from the fortress? Was it possible that she had been heard, even though she perceived no response?
Ferrin surprised Rachel, addressing her from behind. “If we could tear down those walls with excessive staring, Maldor would already be homeless.”
Rachel could not avoid jumping a little at the sound of his voice. Turning, she tried to smile, hoping she looked less rattled than she felt. How long had he been there? Had he seen her replace the charm necklace? “It’s so big.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I was getting myself all wound up. I keep trying to see something that all the others have missed. If they can get me close enough, I could at least throw our remaining orantium at it.”
“We would be asking a few gnats to devour a bull,” Ferrin said. “We could do some superficial damage with the remaining orantium. We could destroy the gates, but they would collapse the access path, leaving the castle entrance unreachable except by mountaineers. We could shatter some battlements. But to what end? Few enemy lives would be lost, and broken walls can be mended. Better that we use the orantium to defend ourselves. Our foes should pay to claim our lives.”
“Do you think it will come to that?” Rachel asked. “A desperate last stand?”
“None of us want that to be the case,” Ferrin replied. “Although we came here aware that we would probably fail, some naive portion of us stubbornly yearns for victory. But we have reached the hour when only a miracle could save us. I was sent to fetch you. Galloran wishes to confer.”
“With me?” Rachel wondered.
“With those of us who set out from Mianamon together.”
“Is there news?”
Ferrin nodded. “None of it good, so far as I understand.”
Rachel drew her veil in front of her face. “Who died?”
Ferrin took her hand, his voice softening. “Nobody, as far as we know. We’re simply running out of time. Come.”
The displacer led her down from the wall, a
cross the busy yard, and into the keep. Rachel had grown accustomed to stares wherever she went. She had learned that if she didn’t want attention, she shouldn’t dress like a mysterious mourner and show off her magical powers in front of thousands of witnesses. She and Ferrin climbed stairs to the upper hall. Six guards stood at attention outside the heavy doors—two humans, two drinlings, and two seedmen.
Inside they found Galloran, Io, and Tark. Only five companions were left who had set out from Mianamon together. They seemed a tiny group inside the long, airy hall. A fire roared in a huge hearth. The thick stone walls made the keep permanently chilly. The heavy doors thumped closed.
Galloran was not currently wearing his blindfold, but he held it in his hand. He rose and greeted them, offered them seats, then put it on.
“We have had little time to converse in private since marching to war,” Galloran began. “Because the end is upon us, I want your counsel without the pressure of unfamiliar ears. Let me lay out our predicament as I understand it, and then please feel free to speak openly.”
“Okay,” Rachel said. The others nodded.
“Our scouts have been watching the east. The armies of Maldor will arrive in less than three days, their numbers virtually uncountable. If something does not change, no matter what tactics we employ, they will swarm in and massacre us all. We might not even get the opportunity to make them test our best defenses. If they so desired, they could wipe out our unsheltered forces, then lay siege to the keeps. Why storm the walls when they have all the time they desire to starve us out? Of course, if Maldor wishes to crush us faster, the bloodier option remains open.”
“Can we run?” Ferrin asked. “Have you considered alternatives to the passes?”
“There are some lesser ways through the mountains,” Galloran said. “No doubt you are familiar with some of them—minor trails, no true roads. We could flee into the western wilderness and let our foes hunt us. Some of our best woodsmen might win free, but the majority of our forces would perish in disorganized mayhem.”
“Wouldn’t that mess up the prophecy?” Rachel asked. “If we ran?”
“It could,” Galloran said. “Destroying Felrook was our mission. Whether we fight the oncoming armies or flee them, without an assault of Felrook it seems we would be abandoning the prophecy. Ferrin, have you any idea how near Jason might be to his destination?”
“He keeps the ear well muffled,” Ferrin said. “Voices are indecipherable. Anything I hear is faint. I know they were on horseback for several days. Certain sounds of their travel were unmistakable. But now they are on foot. What the change means, I cannot say.”
“It could mean they’re close,” Rachel said.
“It could mean they ran into trouble and had to leave their horses behind,” Ferrin said. “I do believe they remain alive and free.”
“I wish we could signal our need to them,” Galloran said. “Our lack of combat on the way here brought us to Felrook faster than anyone could have reasonably estimated. I’m not sure they could possibly guess our current state of urgency.”
“Any progress on cracking Felrook?” Ferrin asked.
“None,” Galloran said. “From the outset it appeared to be a problem without a solution. That remains unchanged. We appear to be utterly without recourse.”
“Should we try anyway?” Rachel urged. “I mean, if we can’t run, and we can’t stand and fight, we might as well go down attacking Felrook. It would be the closest thing to what the prophecy wanted. Who knows? If they think we can’t win, maybe they won’t collapse the path up to the gate. It would be a hassle to rebuild. We have orantium. We have tough fighters. Maybe some of us could get inside. Maybe some warrior could make it all the way to Maldor.”
“It would be a futile act of desperation,” Galloran said. “But I would prefer it to doomed inaction or to the carnage that would attend a frantic retreat.”
“When would we launch such an offensive?” Ferrin asked.
“We should give Jason every possible minute to provide a better alternative,” Galloran said. “If we mean to attack Felrook with blind faith, I say we wait until the day before the eastern armies reach us. We will either breach the walls quickly or not at all.”
Ferrin rubbed his eyes. “None of these alternatives inspire any hope in me. They are all madness.”
“I heartily agree,” Galloran said. “Rachel, we could still mount an attack on the gateway to the Beyond and send you home.”
Rachel sighed. “It probably wouldn’t get me home. Not really. The flow of time between our worlds is messed up. The oracle gave me a certain day that would get me close to my own time. I’ve been keeping track. That day is still more than four years away.”
“Would you rather die than risk ending up in the wrong time period?” Galloran asked frankly.
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “I mainly wanted to go home to be with my parents. I’m not sure if I’d want to live at any other time in my world. There are tons of time periods that would be nightmarish for a girl like me who grew up in modern America. Could we use that option as a last resort? If all else fails, maybe we can all fall back to the gateway and escape to my world.”
“We would have to plan for it before the last moment,” Ferrin said. “Maldor will not want us near his gateway once he has enough soldiers here to impede us. We would have to go there before the eastern armies arrive.”
“It might be something to—” Galloran stopped, cocking his head. He pulled off his blindfold. “I sense lurkers.” After they had reached Felrook, he had stopped wearing the charm Drake had given him to shield his mind. Galloran had decided that he would rather be aware of the lurkers than try to hide from them. “Closer than usual. More than one, closing swiftly.” He rose to his feet, looking around. “They seem to be—”
Upper windows on both sides of the hall shattered, and wraithlike figures bearing swords dropped into the room. Two dashed to block access to the large door at the end of the hall. The other three loosely surrounded the small meeting. All five lurkers held a pair of swords.
Rachel felt a horrible chill. What was going on? Had she done this? Why so many lurkers? Why all the swords?
“This is unprecedented,” Ferrin said, rising and drawing his torivorian sword.
“One for each of us?” Tark growled.
“No,” Galloran said, his blade ringing as he unsheathed it. “I sense their intent. They want Rachel. They will do anything to take her from us. Three will oppose me at once if necessary.”
“Not if I have a say,” Io declared. Holding up an empty hand, he marched toward a torivor. The dark being tossed him a blade.
“No!” Rachel shrieked. “Don’t fight them!” This wasn’t what she had wanted. She had pictured some agent of Maldor helping her sneak away from East Keep alone in the night.
Heedless of her words, Io rushed forward. The lurker resisted him with casual grace. The blades chimed five times before Io was stabbed, and once more before the torivor cut him down definitively.
Rachel whimpered. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind felt frozen. Her guts twisted in dreadful knots.
The torivors moved with liquid grace, unhurried but deliberate. The two at the doors came forward. Joined by one of the others, they formed a perfect triangle around Galloran, all facing him, all holding their pairs of swords vertically. Another lurker was nearing Ferrin, while the one who had vanquished Io came toward Rachel.
Tark edged over to stand in front of Rachel, his knife ready. As he leaned forward she laid a staying hand on his solid shoulder. No matter how horrified and ashamed she felt, she could not let this go on any longer or all her friends were going to die.
“No, Tark,” Rachel managed, relieved that her voice held steady. “Wait.”
None of the lurkers had tossed their swords to begin their duels. Rachel pulled off her charm necklace. Why so many of you? she asked the nearest lurker.
You desire passage to Felrook. Five were sent. Five came.
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br /> Don’t do this, Rachel conveyed earnestly. Don’t harm them.
Only you can prevent more bloodshed, the lurker informed her. We will fight if opposed. Have your guardians stand down.
Rachel looked to Galloran. Every part of her wanted to conceal that she had summoned these lurkers. Had he heard her exchange with them? Would he let her go without an explanation? She could not afford to wait. If she hesitated, her friends would die.
No, Galloran warned her sharply. Don’t succumb. This is extortion. He wants you. This incursion means Maldor is feeling desperate. Jason must be close to his goal.
Her thoughts felt nakedly obvious. How much did he know? I called them, Rachel conveyed. I asked for Maldor to bring me to him. Could she explain that she meant to betray the emperor? Would the lurkers overhear? Were they overhearing now?
Rachel, Galloran communicated, the word full of despair. The emotion behind it made her feel lost. The king looked defeated.
I wanted to help, Rachel tried. We seemed to be at a dead end.
“It’s really quiet,” Ferrin said. He was edging away from the lurker facing him. “Are we in the midst of a silent negotiation? I take it they want Rachel?”
“She is willing to go,” Galloran pronounced. “You don’t need to do this, Rachel. We’ll stand with you.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Rachel,” Ferrin said. “He’ll ruin you. Don’t go because of us. Don’t worry about me.” He charged his lurker.
“No!” Rachel cried.
The lurker only defended itself with one weapon. Blades blurred and chimed. Ferrin’s attack was so intense that for the first couple of moments they almost looked evenly matched. Then Ferrin was dodging away, entirely on the defensive. Then the lurker chopped him in half at the waist.
Ferrin kept swinging, forcing the lurker to crouch and continue defending itself. Ferrin’s legs slid the lower half of his body toward the upper half. Within another few swings, the lurker decapitated Ferrin. The headless torso kept fighting. Pressing the attack, the lurker hacked off Ferrin’s sword arm.