He wore his helmet with the horns of the monstrous bull, looking powerful, but he could feel the shock of his men, their sadness. He understood their disbelief, but he could do nothing to help them. He, too, had lost everything. Majel …
Utros spoke to the squads, stepping up to just a few sullen, dutiful warriors, but others gathered closer to hear.
“I can’t bring them back, not any of them,” he said. “Time has stolen our families, our friends, our loves and our lives from us.” He paused. “No, not time—the wizards of Ildakar stole them from us. They placed this spell on us.” He clenched his partially hardened arm. “They are to blame.”
Utros saw the grief and loss in their expressive eyes, the inability to shed tears the way they normally had. The reality sank in, and these soldiers, so many thousands of them, had only their duty and their loyalty—to him. “I can’t bring you the past. I can’t bring any of them back. But I can bring you hope and duty. Our reality is now centered on capturing Ildakar, as we swore to do when we left Orogang so many centuries ago.” He drew a deep breath, felt his lungs expand. “And that is what we will accomplish.”
At first the dutiful cheers were halfhearted, but slowly the soldiers pulled themselves up with the new realization and their new purpose. Later that night, under a common banner, soldiers gathered around the big fires and told stories about their families, now long lost to the ravages of time. His troops would reminisce about their loves, their children, the homes they would never see again. But they would complete their mission. For him. Utros knew it.
His warriors came to accept their fate. What choice did they have? They had always followed Utros, and he had never let them down. So long as he convinced them of his vision, they would continue to serve him. But even he didn’t have a complete plan.
First Commander Enoch reported after sending scouts along the wall of the city, then up into the hills and along the cliff that plunged down to the river. He did not seem optimistic. “It is possible, by traveling far from these plains, to find a way down to the river, but it widens into swamps, which seem impassable. If we did send troops along the water to the base of the bluffs below Ildakar, we would still have to scale the cliffs to get into the city.” Enoch frowned. “It does not seem a good strategy, General. The Ildakarans have defenses there, too, and we have no boats, no means to attack from the water. I think our siege at the walls may be the best option. Ildakar can’t withstand us forever.”
Utros listened, absorbing the information. “I’ll continue to work on a plan, First Commander. Bring me any other intelligence you gather. There must be a way.” Enoch gave a formal bow, then departed.
Despite his reassurances, Utros had only a limited amount of time to find his clarity of purpose, because the army’s questions would become too loud for any answers he might offer. His orders from Emperor Kurgan were fifteen centuries old, and the mercurial ruler himself had been overthrown by his own people because of his cruelty.
Long ago, Utros had taken a vow of loyalty to Iron Fang, yet there was also Majel, and his love for her had been as strong as a boulder diverting a fast-flowing stream. Somehow, in the compartments of his mind, Utros managed to separate those conflicting loyalties. He held them like the opposite poles of two lodestones, both attracting and repelling, and it was only through rigid determination that he could hold both in his mind at the same time.
As he studied the campfires dotting the valley, he felt a chill rather than warmth. Kurgan was gone—and Majel was gone. Iron Fang could no longer advise him or give him new orders, and he couldn’t hear the beautiful voice of his beloved. Both were in the underworld now, their spirits with the Keeper. Utros could never speak with either of them again.
In ancient times, there had been rumors of a fraying of the veil, occasional ways for spirits to return to the world of the living, if only briefly, but Richard Rahl’s star shift had sealed the breach forever, if Nicci and Nathan could be believed. Never again would spirits be able to pass from the underworld.
His leader and his lover were both lost to him forever, and Utros was on his own. Even surrounded by hundreds of thousands of loyal soldiers, and the sorceresses who served him with their bodies and their magic, Utros felt entirely alone.…
From the doorway, he turned to the inside of the headquarters, where the two braziers glowed red. Ava and Ruva stood waiting for him in gauzy gowns that clung to their curves. Freshly shaved and painted, the twins watched him in silence, letting him have his thoughts, but they seemed to read his mind.
“We remember the magic we have been taught, beloved Utros,” said Ava.
“All the stolen books we studied in the cities we conquered,” Ruva said.
Utros closed the wooden doorway behind him. “I have never doubted it.” He could smell the dizzying smoke from the braziers. “But if what the representatives of Ildakar claim is true, the underpinnings of magic have changed. Your most powerful spells may not work anymore.”
Ava held up a finger, studied it, then stroked her sister’s cheek. “Or at least not in the same way.”
Ruva closed her eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure from the touch. “That also means we may have different opportunities. Magic might function in ways we never considered before.”
Utros ran his palm over his scarred cheek. “Maybe you can find a spell that will turn Ildakar’s stone walls to dust, and then we can simply march through the city streets.”
“An interesting possibility.” Ruva reached across to stroke her sister’s face in a reciprocal gesture. “But that’s not what you want most, beloved Utros.” The twins stared intently at him.
Ava said, “We know what you want, and it will strengthen your heart.”
“Strengthening your heart will strengthen your army,” Ruva added.
Utros frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what happened to your dear Majel, the woman to whom you gave your heart and your soul,” Ava said, “while your mind and your skills were sworn to Emperor Kurgan. Absolute loyalty and absolute love, tugging against each other.”
Ruva nodded. “Before you can accept your place in this time, you need to speak to Iron Fang. And to Majel.”
The general’s heart ached. “That is true, but they’re long dead. The only way I can speak to them is if I go to the underworld, and I am not ready to die yet.”
“Maybe there’s another way,” the twins said in eerie unison.
Ruva took a half step closer, and the ruddy light from the braziers painted its own patterns on her skin. “We’ve studied what the sorceress Nicci said. We cast webs, made probes with our magic. We sacrificed small creatures, and that blood allowed us to tease out answers.”
Ava said, “The underworld is indeed sealed, and there’s no way we can exploit a breach or a weak point. You cannot travel beyond the veil, nor can we bring back the spirit of Majel or Iron Fang.”
Ruva and Ava crept closer until they were nearly touching him, but they stopped, letting him sense their presence. “It might be possible that you can still observe through the veil, however. You can look in on the underworld and find those spirits.”
Utros blinked. “You mean just to communicate, not to bring them back? I hadn’t considered the idea. That would be excellent.”
“My sister and I have discovered a way to make a window, a lens to let you look through the veil. You could see the spirits of Majel and Kurgan. You could talk with them.”
“I could speak with her,” Utros said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I could say…” He drew a breath and straightened, restoring his professional demeanor. “I could brief Emperor Kurgan and receive further orders from him, learn what he really wants me to do, so many centuries after I laid siege to Ildakar.” Utros felt his heart grow lighter for the first time since awakening. “Yes, do it. That is my command.”
“There are complex preparations to make,” said Ava. “In order to create such a lens, we need a special kind of glass.”<
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Ruva added, “And that will require special ingredients, difficult ingredients.”
“Whatever you need, I’ll see that you have it,” Utros said.
The sorceresses had no doubt. “The molten glass needs to be mixed with the blood of innocent children. Those pure sacrifices will delight the Keeper, and then with our magic we’ll be able to see through the veil.”
Utros spoke quickly. “I’ll instruct First Commander Enoch to find innocent children and take their blood. Of the many scouting parties I sent into the hills, surely they’ve located some villages that can be harvested.”
Ava and Ruva pressed themselves against him, wrapping their arms around his solid body. He felt their curves, the solidity of their skin and bodies, their firm breasts. “Let’s sleep now and share our power,” they said.
Utros felt a clarity and an optimism that had been long gone. Ava and Ruva peeled off their garments and then removed the general’s armored vest, his sword, his dagger, his greaves, his belt. While her sister completed the work of undressing Utros, Ruva added more pungent herbs to the braziers, filling the chamber with thin, aromatic smoke.
Together, they all lay naked and entwined on the low, makeshift bed. It was not to share bodily warmth, for their toughened flesh had little of that, and it was not to share passion, though Utros knew the twin sorceresses held a fire of love for him in their hearts. This was to share strength, as they had done many times during his conquests across the Old World.
Utros held the beautiful twins, stroked their smooth cold skin, following the curves of their backs, their buttocks, while their fingertips traced imaginary spell designs across his chest and down his legs. As he lay there, all he could think about was the chance to see and speak with Majel again, even from beyond the wall of death.
CHAPTER 26
The stair-stepped spectator benches of Ildakar’s combat arena rose on all sides of Nicci as she walked out onto the raked sands along with Nathan, Elsa, and all the powerful gifted members of the duma. The council had at last made a decision, and they planned to go on the offensive.
The seats were filled with thousands of people, crowded shoulder-to-shoulder. Nicci saw a blur of faces, lower classes in drab clothes in the bottom tiers, merchants in the better seats, nobles in the prominent observation towers safest from the violence and bloodshed. Though the huge arena was filled to capacity, Nicci knew this was only a fraction of Ildakar’s population. Yes, the city did indeed have the potential to create a formidable army.
Though she had her doubts about the duma’s plan, Nicci would help them achieve victory. She just needed them to define their goal properly. Nathan was also committed.
The duma members walked forward, leaving footprints on the same ground where countless warriors and combat animals had died. The loud background murmur fell to a hush as the ruling council stood to address the large audience. Even Rendell, the newest official duma member, stood among them. The lower classes, the workers, and the freed slaves would see him there and understand that something had fundamentally changed in the city’s power structure. If they succeeded, the duma would convince the people of Ildakar to direct their violence outward, against the army of General Utros.
Nicci spotted Bannon in the lower tiers, giving his silent encouragement. The young man wore a common shirt and had tied his hair back. Lila sat beside him, as if she were his personal guard, reminding Nicci of how the Mord-Sith always stationed themselves close to Richard.
Quentin, Damon, and Elsa stood silent beside the reawakened Lani, and the new gifted duma members Oron and Olgya. Nicci and Nathan remained with the council, and although many Ildakarans looked to the two of them as outside heroes, Nicci insisted on letting the city’s own representatives speak. Without the wizard commander or the sovrena, though, the duma had no clear spokesperson.
After building the crowd’s anticipation, Elsa finally stepped forward. She enhanced her voice so that all could hear. “People of Ildakar, all citizens of Ildakar, we face the enemy you have feared for fifteen centuries. That ancient army is now awake again and outside your walls.”
Oron spoke up. “And we are like yaxen in a pen awaiting the slaughter, unless we do something.” He stepped forward, made his voice even louder. “I for one do not intend to wait for that. We must prove our might, show that we can be a formidable foe and push back against the enemy. Ildakar has many powerful gifted, and our magic is stronger than anything General Utros can command.”
“We also have countless fighters,” Lani said. “Look at all of you! We call on anyone who can take up arms, train for battle, and help us deal a resounding blow to our ancient enemy.” She looked around the tiers at the pale faces, the bright Ildakaran silks, the earthy garments of workers and former slaves. “We have our city guard, our morazeth, our arena warriors. Together, we have an army, the army of Ildakar.”
The people began to mutter and cheer, and Nicci saw Bannon applauding. She felt her own resolve hardening. She had traveled too far and fought too hard in the name of Lord Rahl. She could not let an enemy from the dusts of time win against an equally legendary city. Rather, she wanted Ildakar to become one of the capitals of the new D’Haran Empire. But in order for that to happen, Nicci had to save them first.
She thought of the blood that had been spilled on these arena sands, unwilling warriors cut to pieces by opponents or torn by combat beasts. There was much to dislike about this twisted city, but there was also much worth salvaging. If these people could be convinced to follow the sensible rules of Lord Rahl, Ildakar would be a powerful ally.
She made up her mind and raised her voice. The enthused crowd fell silent, wanting to hear what Nicci had to say. “The enemy believes we’re cowering behind our walls, just waiting. They think we have no way to fight them. They think our magic is weak because the stone spell faded.” She waited a beat. “We’ll show them that is not true.”
Nicci knew how to rally these diverse people, the many factions that disliked one another, the angry rebels who still held their grudges. “We must have warriors, but we know you aren’t all soldiers. Ildakar also needs material support, whatever the city can give. Swordsmiths must create weapons, blades, spears. Fletchers must make many arrows. We need armor and shields.” She swept her gaze across the former slaves in their tiers, the tradesmen, the merchants, even the gifted nobles in the high levels. “The recent uprising nearly tore Ildakar apart, but this is a chance for you to heal those wounds. I urge you to fight for your city instead of against one another.”
Oron gave her a respectful nod and added, “Our best hope is in a surprise attack. Let us train our fighters, gather our gifted. When we are ready, we’ll mass our army just behind the walls where the enemy can’t see us, then we will attack late at night, a strike as swift and deadly as a lightning bolt, and then return to safety behind our walls.” He extended a hand, pointing to the spectators in the stands. “We have to do a great deal of damage in order to make our point.”
Nicci focused on the sea of faces in the tiered seats. The buzz of conversation grew louder in the arena, accompanied by the percussive beat of clapping hands and stomping feet.
CHAPTER 27
The six Norukai vessels arrowed toward the harbor, their rows of oars like the legs of a centipede on the water.
Running along the docks, Captain Norcross shouted orders. He had spent many nights alone at a candlelit desk drawing up scenarios, imagining defenses against the hideous raiders. He had consulted with his fellow D’Haran soldiers, and together they had come up with many ideas, some of them ingenious, some impractical. Norcross had decided to implement everything he could. He didn’t have magic, but he did have tactics.
Now he raced to the end of the southern pier, watching his three large cargo ships move into position, ready to close like pincers around the oncoming Norukai. On the largest ship, helmed by Captain Mills, Norcross could see armed sailors crowding the rail on the starboard side. Bright pinpoints of light sparkled
as a dozen archers lit pitch-covered arrows and loosed a volley that rained down on the first oncoming raider.
The Norukai scurried to extinguish the fire on the deck, but several arrows struck the dark sail, which went up in flames. Three of the raiders were killed by the burning arrows, and their crewmates quickly dumped them over the side.
The other five serpent ships pressed forward like hungry predators. Loud, bass drumbeats echoed from the raiding vessels, and Norukai warriors crowded the sides, eager to fight with swords, spears, and battle-axes. They chanted an inhuman-sounding howl.
Out on the water, bright wooden buoys marked positions. The Norukai paid them no heed, but the D’Haran engineers had practiced, setting their aim and their range, and the buoys marked the specific strike points. When the serpent ships approached the line, Norcross fought back a smile. “Catapults!” he shouted, and other soldiers picked up the order. “Catapults!” They knew exactly how and when to fire the giant boulders resting in the cradles.
Soldiers turned the heavy cranks on the siege machines, winding the cables and ratcheting the gears. Ropes groaned and long wooden beams creaked as they cocked back the catapult’s arm. Muscular fishermen loaded a boulder into the cradle, doused it with pitch, then ignited the missile. When a Norukai serpent ship passed the first marker buoy, Captain Norcross gave a signal, and the catapult loosed its stone. With a liberating snap and crash, the arm heaved upward and launched its burden. The giant flaming stone tumbled like a comet through the air.
Aboard the serpent ship, the Norukai shouted in sudden terror as the burning boulder smashed the hull. The people of Renda Bay cheered, seeing the tremendous damage. The crippled enemy ship veered to the south as the raiders struggled to regain control and put out the fires.
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