“What if I enjoy it?” Grieve asked, partly meaning it, but mostly to intimidate them. “One gets tired of fish. I like other kinds of meat.”
“I’ll have the kitchen prepare fish,” said the older slave. Emmett, yes, that was his name. The man always seemed to be here, though Grieve paid little attention to him. He wondered how adept the slave must be. Emmett was a survivor. Grieve didn’t normally like survivors, since that type often caused trouble. Maybe he would execute the man and roast him after all, though seeing Emmett’s gnarled hands and wrinkled face, the king suspected his flesh would be stringy and bitter. No, it was not worth the effort. He’d let the old man continue in service.
Chalk scuttled back to the hearth to warm himself. He jabbered about different kinds of fish, the small ones he kept in his tank as well as some of the large ones, poisonous creatures with spines, even one that could release a jolt like lightning. The tank was an indulgence Grieve allowed his shaman and friend.
By the time food was prepared and brought in on stone trays, three burly Norukai men marched through the smoke-stained wooden doors and into the throne room. Grieve recognized Captain Kor by the pointed shark’s tooth implanted in his shaved scalp. Each of the Norukai had their mouths slashed, their lips and faces altered to honor the serpent god.
Grieve leaned forward on his blocky throne, his chest broad, his arms bunched, the bone spines poking several inches above his shoulders. King Grieve never required simpering bows of obeisance from his bravest warriors or raiding captains. He preferred to earn their honor, loyalty, and respect through actions, not empty gestures. The remaining Norukai were Yorik and Lars, captains of the other two ships on the slave-trading mission.
“I told you it was Kor,” Chalk said. “He came back from his expedition. Kor, Kor, there will be war!”
The three new arrivals kept their attention on the intimidating king on his high throne. The scarred shaman made them nervous.
“Tell me what you found, Captain Kor,” Grieve said. “Your report may make us launch our newest conquest. It’s about time.”
Kor looked determined. “With three serpent ships we sailed far south to where the river spills into the sea, then we made our way up the estuary as before, like trading ships, carrying a load of nearly two hundred slaves. We picked up more along the way.”
“Good,” Grieve said. “I thought the coastal towns down south were picked clean, just like their forests. Our raids will concentrate on the northern coast from now on.”
Kor bowed. “Or maybe we have a better target for conquest. We’ve traded with Ildakar over the years, although the city appears and disappears. The wizards hide behind some magical shroud, but they are growing lax and I know there is unrest in their streets. Somehow, one of our own went missing the last night, and we never found his body.”
“Dar,” Lars and Yorik both grumbled.
Grieve stiffened. “Those perfumed fops killed one of our Norukai?”
Yorik spoke up. “We can’t be sure, my king. Dar frequented the whorehouses in Ildakar, and then one day he was gone. He could have been drunk and gotten himself robbed and killed in an alley.”
“We could use it as an excuse for Norukai retaliation on the city, if that is what you wish,” Kor said. “We could avenge Dar.”
“I don’t want excuses. I loathe excuses.” Grieve clacked his iron-studded knuckles together. “If we mean to declare war, then we’ll simply attack.”
“Ildakar is our destiny,” Chalk said. “My Grieve. King Grieve. They’ll all grieve!”
The king shushed the shaman. Chalk continued his antics, but placed a hand over his own mouth as if to hold the words in.
“Captain Kor, what do you think about conquering Ildakar?”
“It is a wise idea,” the Norukai captain said. “Our ship is filled with kegs of their bloodwine and crates of preserved meat from a creature called a yaxen. The Ildakarans produce fine silks and lavish furs extracted from laboratories and businesses right inside the city. The city welcomed us. They are open to more trade.” Kor smiled with his gashed mouth. “We just need to get inside when their shroud is down, and we can surprise them. From what I have seen, they require days of preparation and the shedding of much blood before they can make themselves disappear again. We would have plenty of opportunity to attack and plunder. The city is a treasure chest of jewels and potential slaves.”
“And wine,” Lars interjected.
Kor continued, “The people are weak, although many of their wizards are greatly gifted.”
“Wizards?” Chalk cried. “Magic can be defeated. The serpent god knows how. Chalk knows how.”
Grieve turned to him. “How can magic be defeated?”
“I don’t know yet. But I will.” Chalk retreated to the warmth of the fire where he hunched, rubbing his hands in front of the flames, staring into the embers as if looking for the answer. “I will know when it’s time to know.”
When the platters of food arrived, Kor, Yorik, and Lars took seats at the long table and King Grieve sat before the largest platter at the head of the table. He tore into the roasted fish with his bare fingers, peeling the flaky meat from the curved bones.
“First, send that yaxen meat to the Bastion. I’m weary of fish, and I don’t like goat. Meanwhile, I will plan for war. I have a hundred new serpent ships being built across our islands, and I won’t depart until at least fifty of them are finished. Ildakar has been there for thousands of years. It’ll wait another few months. They will fall to us, regardless.”
Kor sucked on fish bones, tossed a roasted head aside. “I don’t want to wait for months, my king. That trade mission taxed my patience, and I ache for the feel of fresh spilled blood. Give me something else to do.”
Since Kor had just finished a calm journey, perhaps a good battle would satisfy him. “I’ve been considering a raid anyway. I’ll dispatch you north. Take your ships and attack the town called Renda Bay. They somehow defeated our ships the last time we raided, and they must learn their lesson.”
“A lesson!” Chalk said. “Gut them, burn them.”
Grieve said, “Leave the town empty, with nothing but ghosts.”
“Ghosts!” the shaman said, touching his pockmarked skin. “Like me.” Alone among Norukai adults, Chalk did not have a slashed mouth. His lips extended only to the normal reaches of his cheeks, except for where the fish had torn shreds away.
Kor nodded so deeply it was almost a bow. “I accept this raid with gratitude, King Grieve.”
The king had punished the previous captain who was defeated by the small fishing town. That man had been chained to the cliffs and fed to the serpent god, so his blood could strengthen the sea serpent, and the serpent in turn would protect and strengthen the Norukai race.
“Don’t fail,” Grieve warned.
“Don’t doubt me,” Kor replied.
The king found the answer satisfying, and he finished his platter of fish, already imagining the taste of the promised yaxen meat.
CHAPTER 9
“I am a wizard of Ildakar,” Renn said, puffing himself up as he faced Prelate Verna in the grand foyer of the Cliffwall archive. The stranger’s face was florid, his cheeks a little jowly, but sagging from weeks of hard travel. He swirled maroon robes around him.
Verna remained unruffled as she crossed her arms over her chest and stepped forward to meet the stranger. Despite his bluster, the self-proclaimed wizard flicked his eyes nervously from her to General Zimmer, intimidated by the grandeur of the portico, the columns, the marble floors inside the enormous cliff overhang. She could sense the gift in him, but she also thought that if she challenged him, his bravado would deflate like a wineskin that had sprung a leak.
“And I am the prelate of the Sisters of the Light,” Verna said. “This Cliffwall archive is a priceless library of profound magical lore, available to gifted scholars who come seeking knowledge, with certain restrictions.”
“It is not available to those who demand,�
� General Zimmer growled. The burly military man had dark hair and a square jaw that showed a shadow of whiskers even though he had scraped his cheeks smooth only a few hours ago.
Renn sputtered, fidgeted, and sniffed. “You must not be aware of the archive’s origin. The lore in Cliffwall belongs to Ildakar.” He struggled not to sound condescending. “We are grateful that you people have been stewards of the knowledge in the interim, but my city was instrumental in creating the archive long ago, before Emperor Sulachan purged all magical records.”
Ten soldiers wearing unfamiliar Ildakaran military uniforms stood behind Renn, glancing uncertainly at the wizard. Their captain said, “Renn, sir, maybe we should not be so—”
The portly wizard waved him to silence.
Hearing the rising voices, Cliffwall scholars ventured into the grand foyer. They wore comfortable wool and linen garments and soft sandals, showing little difference between the diligent archivists and the recall-enhanced memmers.
Verna calmed herself with a common exercise, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “I am aware of Cliffwall’s history, though Ildakar’s name isn’t as prominent in the archives as you might think. My Sisters of the Light are visitors here, too. We’ve come to study the library and to guard the dangerous knowledge from those who might abuse it.”
Other curious Sisters came into the large chamber, including Sisters Eldine and Rhoda and the fresh-faced novice Amber. Verna saw owlish Scholar-Archivist Franklin enter the foyer alongside the lead memmer, Gloria, a plump and determined-looking woman. Franklin wore an uncertain, welcoming smile. “Cliffwall has been hidden for thousands of years, and the camouflage shroud was only recently dispelled. Our knowledge is meant for all who deserve it.”
Verna remained cautious. “The unwise and unschooled use of this powerful lore has already caused several disasters, and so we must be cautious. General Zimmer and his D’Haran soldiers have sworn to protect the archive.” She narrowed her eyes. “If such powerful magic were to fall into the wrong hands, or even untrained hands, another catastrophe might occur.”
Renn huffed. “As a wizard of Ildakar, my rank and abilities exceed those of anyone at Cliffwall. I’ll take over here.”
“No, you will not,” said Franklin. “I am responsible for the material in Cliffwall.” He was normally a quiet, soft-spoken man more comfortable with books than with people, but his ire had been sparked by the wizard’s pompous attitude.
With a huff, Gloria stepped next to the scholar-archivist. “And I represent the memmers, who have imprinted thousands of volumes in our minds. We’ve maintained the information in Cliffwall for millennia, and we will not surrender it.”
Verna restored the edge to her voice as more scholars stood up to the party from Ildakar. “The Sisters of the Light are also gifted. You’ll find us to be powerful enemies, all of us … if you choose to make enemies.” She gestured toward the increasing numbers of scholars gathering there. “Many of us have been studying ancient spells. If it came down to a battle, I’m sure they would love to practice what they’ve learned.”
Renn was flustered, and his florid face turned a brighter red. “But … but, I’m a wizard of Ildakar!” He paused, as if those words should make them tremble. “Sovrena Thora sent me on a mission to find this archive.” He glanced at the group of soldiers who had accompanied him. “And I have to…”
“You have found it.” Verna stood her ground, but didn’t try to provoke him further. “But the books stay where they can be protected.”
Nine more armed D’Haran guards entered the foyer, climbing up from the cliffside after the intruders. Though these were only a fraction of General Zimmer’s force, they already exceeded the Ildakaran guard. Zimmer put his hand to the hilt of his sword, and the other D’Haran soldiers did the same, threatening. The tension in the room escalated.
The leader of the Ildakaran guard escort interrupted calmly as a flustered Renn wrestled for words. “We’ve had a long and arduous journey over the mountains. I am Captain Trevor, leader of the wizard’s escort. Maybe we should learn more about each other before we argue?”
Quiet and introspective Franklin spoke up. “We haven’t even finished cataloging the material yet. We don’t know the books that exist here in the archive, and our entire library of prophecy was destroyed in a, uh, magical mishap, when a student named Elbert activated a Weeping Stone spell he could not control. All those prophecy books…”
Verna muttered with a sigh, “Prophecy books were no longer relevant anyway, just wasted paper.”
Renn looked from side to side, his thoughts spinning. Obviously, his arrival had not turned out the way he had imagined it after his long journey. “I want to see the archive.”
“The books will remain here,” General Zimmer said firmly.
Renn’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t think Thora would even appreciate all this knowledge. She always mocked me and dear Lani for how we spent our time reading and learning.” The flustered wizard lowered his voice so that Verna barely heard his last words. “Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.” His entire attitude seemed to change. He deflated, as she thought he might.
Verna took a step forward and spoke in a calm voice. “You’ve had a long journey, and tempers and patience are frayed. Let us get to know one another, as Captain Trevor says. We’re just as anxious to learn about Ildakar as you are to know more about Cliffwall.”
Gloria spoke up. “The kitchens are making cauldrons of lentil and sausage soup and fresh baked bread. Perhaps we can continue to talk over lunch?”
Renn’s eyes widened at the mention of food, and Verna could almost see him drool. The escort soldiers also perked up, looking eager.
Zimmer spoke to Captain Trevor and the nine bedraggled Ildakaran soldiers. “We have a military camp in the valley, with provisions and a place for your men to stay. Soldiers always have stories to exchange, so long as they’re not enemies.”
Trevor responded with a smile. “Yes, so long as they’re not enemies, General. For now, let’s proceed on that assumption.” He addressed his men. “We’ll go make camp and relax. The meadows by the stream looked better than any camp we’ve had since leaving Ildakar.”
Renn seemed reluctant to be left alone in Cliffwall, but he forced himself to relax. “The lentil soup does sound very good indeed.” The pretentious wizard had begun the conversation with escalating demands, but he seemed out of his depth. Verna could tell from the lines in Renn’s face and the barely concealed rips in his maroon robes that he must have had a difficult trek overland.
As General Zimmer led Trevor and the soldiers back down the steep cliffside path to the military camp, the prelate asked the visiting wizard, “How did you even know to look for Cliffwall? We didn’t realize word had spread to the far points of the Old World.”
Renn said, “We had recent visitors, strangers from far away, and a young swordsman named Bannon blurted out the location of Cliffwall. He was traveling with a powerless wizard named Nathan Rahl and a blond sorceress named Nicci.”
Verna caught her breath. “You’ve seen Nathan and Nicci?”
“Yes, do you know them? They are in Ildakar, working with the wizards’ duma.”
Curious, Verna led him deeper into the archive. “In that case, we have much to talk about.”
* * *
As large bowls of steaming lentil soup were ladled out and shared around the table, intent scholars clustered around Wizard Renn, full of questions. Verna looked at Rhoda, Eldine, Amber, and her companion Sisters, all of whom listened eagerly.
She had known that Nicci and Nathan were traveling the Old World, since they had sent back records of their adventures by courier. In one such message, delivered by a pair of young scholars from Cliffwall, Nicci had called for soldiers and gifted scholars to help defend the ancient archive of dangerous knowledge. The people at Cliffwall had countless volumes of powerful magic but almost no instruction in how to use it.
After reading Nicci’s request, Verna had j
oined General Zimmer and more than a hundred D’Haran soldiers on a journey south. Much of the Old World was an unmarked map, a landscape of mysteries, undiscovered cities, and peoples. Even though the ancient wizard wars were over, the Imperial Order defeated, and Sulachan and his undead army crushed by Lord Rahl, there were still many risks in the unruly continent.
On their search for Cliffwall, Verna and her companions had come upon the coastal town of Renda Bay, which had been plagued by ferocious raiders that ransacked and burned villages. General Zimmer had left part of his expeditionary force there with instructions for Amber’s brother Captain Norcross to help Renda Bay drive off the Norukai slavers if they should return.
It was just one step in building the defenses of the Old World as part of the expanding D’Haran Empire. Complete security would take a long time, Verna knew, but as the Cliffwall scholars often quoted, “A book is read one page at a time, a shelf is read one book at a time, a library is read one shelf at a time.” Verna hoped Norcross and the people of Renda Bay would be safe and secure, but she did know that three large sailing ships had remained anchored there as a defense.
Cliffwall had suffered terrible tragedies when their naive scholars dabbled with magical lore, accidentally unleashing destruction when they didn’t know what they were doing. Verna could only imagine how much worse it would be if a tyrant like Emperor Jagang were to get his hands on such lore and actively use it as a weapon.
As soon as they had arrived at the Cliffwall canyon, the D’Haran soldiers studied its defenses. The archive had been built inside an alcove high up on a sheer cliff, which made the place relatively secure, but Zimmer planned even more rigorous defenses, barricades and battlements. Even though the entrance to the enclosed canyon was difficult to find, Zimmer wanted to increase guards. Such prominent defenses had caused consternation among the scholars, but they had already seen the devastation of the Lifedrinker and the monstrous uncontrolled sorceress Victoria.
Siege of Stone Page 7
