Siege of Stone

by Terry Goodkind

  Meanwhile, the first vessel that had been peppered by flaming arrows also burned. The sail was nearly consumed, and now the fire spread to the decks and climbed the masts.

  As raiders approached the watchtowers at the mouth of the harbor, the Norukai responded with their own fire arrows like a rain of shooting stars. Some defenders raised shields to cover their heads, but others had no such armor. Dozens of people fell, skewered as they fled for shelter.

  Norcross felt isolated at the end of the pier with arrows pattering around him, thunking into the wooden boards.

  The four intact serpent ships pressed in, relentless. The first raiding vessel ground up against the base of one of the lookout towers at the mouth of the harbor. Its carved figurehead smashed the head of the piers. Norukai boiled off the decks, some leaping into the water, others dropping onto the piers and surging forward.

  Seeing them for the first time, Norcross was appalled. The raiders were as hideous as he had been led to believe, their mouths slashed and tattooed to look like serpent jaws, their bodies studded with spikes and horns implanted in their skin. They were monsters as terrifying as Emperor Sulachan’s undead armies, which Norcross had seen only once.

  Another serpent ship crashed against the opposite pier and disgorged its army of invaders.

  At the top of the twin watchtowers, the defenders shot arrows and hurled rocks down upon the raiders. From their high vantage, they should be able to massacre these invaders. Even so, Norcross felt sick as he drew his sword and ran to fight hand-to-hand. The scarred slavers didn’t seem to care how many they would lose.

  * * *

  Usually during raids, Kor’s warriors were like wolves chasing fat and stupid sheep, but now he saw that Renda Bay would be more of a challenge. The people were putting up a real fight and they had built unexpected defenses.

  Kor let out a rumbling hiss deep in his throat. The villagers would still lose, but it would be a test for his raiders, and the Norukai liked to be tested. Harsh challenges made them stronger, just as their bleak windswept islands made them hungrier for conquest. Renda Bay’s resistance would only bring about greater retribution, and that was fine with Kor.

  A flaming boulder from the second catapult hurtled through the air after the crack-smash of its released arm. The giant stone whistled overhead, and the Norukai crew on the target ship—Yorik’s vessel—used their oars in a furious but futile attempt to shift course. The projectile clipped the top of the mast, shattered the yardarm, and made the sail collapse.

  Kor’s ship cruised into the small harbor, passing one of the new stone watchtowers. His vessel ground up against the nearest pier, and his fighters threw ropes to lash the vessel into place. Norukai warriors leaped from the decks and ran wildly down the docks with weapons raised.

  Within minutes, they encountered a force of trained soldiers that stood against them—real soldiers, not simpering villagers, with armor and good swords. Kor resolved to claim those swords, even if he had to pry them from the bloody hands of fallen warriors.

  Howling raiders slammed into the soldiers in a spray of blood and a crash of steel. These outside soldiers, strangers to Renda Bay, were well trained and not easily frightened. With some surprise, Kor watched several of his own warriors fall, cut down by the combat skills of their unexpected opponents. Dead Norukai bodies were roughly kicked into the water to get them out of the way.

  For his own weapon, Kor preferred a long-handled axe with a rounded stone club on the opposite end. He swung it one-handed as he bounded onto the pier, striking viciously, left and right. He hit the first soldier who faced him, smashing his axe brutally against the steel sword. The soldier’s wrist snapped, and the man reeled away as he gaped at the strange angle of his arm, the protruding bone. Kor swung the weapon again, bashing him in the face with the rounded end. For good measure, he turned the weapon around and sank the axe blade with a wet, meaty impact into the defender’s chest. With his boot, Kor stomped on the fallen man’s ribs to yank his weapon free.

  Screams of pain, howls of anger, and the clash of weapons made a deafening clamor all around him. To Kor it sounded like music.

  From the watchtowers above, defenders hurled rocks and sharp javelins while archers fired a rain of arrows. Kor saw seven of his fellows drop in an instant, arrows protruding like spikes from their bodies, and he spun just in time so that an arrow merely struck his shoulder instead of his heart. When he reached back and ripped it free, the barbed arrowhead tore a wide gash in his flesh, but Kor didn’t feel pain. He was in a battle mind-set now.

  The first wave of Norukai stormed down the length of the pier and into the town. Many of the homes, freshly rebuilt after the last fiery raid, were burning again, ignited by fire arrows. The defenders formed a cordon to stop the raiders from entering the town. They held swords, spears, even rakes and shovels, and their expressions were grim, determined. This was no scattered, panicked flock of cowards. The people of Renda Bay had been trained, and this surprised him. But they would all still die.

  The Norukai smashed into the defenders, wielding their axes and spears. The townspeople tried to stand their ground, but they fell like harvested grain. And yet the rest of them kept fighting.

  One of the officers on the opposite side of the water, a captain of some sort, shouted orders as the fifth and sixth serpent ships pushed into the mouth of the harbor, their impatient crews eager to attack. But on either side of the bay, the villagers worked huge cranks and chains, raising some unexpected weapon submerged beneath the water. Kor swung his sword instinctively to deflect the blow of a bearded fisherman who attacked him with a boat hook, but he was preoccupied with what was happening in the water. He punched the fisherman in the face, kicked him off the dock, and turned his attention back to watch.

  A deadly rake of sharp metal shafts, spears lined up on a rotating hinge that had been sunk beneath the shallow harbor, began to turn, rising to the surface. Kor had never seen such a thing before. The long, deadly spikes lifted out of the water, angled directly toward the oncoming serpent ship.

  Kor saw what was going to happen, but could do nothing about it. “No!” he roared. “Change course!”

  The serpent ship pushed forward at full speed, driven by the coordinated sweep of the oars. On deck, several Norukai screamed a warning, and the men at the oars flailed, disorganized, but they couldn’t react quickly enough. Momentum drove the vessel ahead, and the hull rammed itself upon the parallel spikes.

  Even from where he stood, Kor heard grinding and splintering as the metal points gutted the serpent ship like a fish. Nearly a hundred Norukai warriors leaped overboard, and several of them were impaled on the spikes as well. The ship was destroyed, its keel shattered, and within minutes its hold flooded, although the sharp spikes held the wreck up like a slaughtered goat hung on a meat hook.

  Other raiders charged down the docks into the town, while longboats scraped up on the stony shore. Even before they landed, the Norukai men and women tossed torches onto docked fishing boats. Abandoning their vessels and splashing ashore, the burly raiders raced up the shingle to keep attacking.

  Kor led his own party, killing townspeople and armored soldiers as he swept his battle-axe from side to side. He pushed deeper into the streets.

  Hundreds more villagers emerged from their hiding places, bursting out of buildings where they had lain in wait. In moments, the defenders doubled in number, making the invaders’ charge falter.

  Astonished, Kor howled in wordless rage. This was supposed to be a slave raid, a punitive attack to avenge the previous failure of weaker Norukai. His mission was to leave no one alive, no structure standing, but now three of his ships were already destroyed, two of them still in flames. The people of Renda Bay were not fleeing in terror. Instead, they surrounded the raiders and blocked off their escape.

  He saw one of his best fighters, his own first mate, jabbing and stabbing with his spear. He killed three Renda Bay villagers, but six more closed in on him. They caught
the first mate’s spear with a boat hook, drove it to the ground, and broke the shaft. The first mate fought back with both fists, his scarred jaw flapping open and closed as he snarled, as if he meant to snatch them with his teeth.

  The Renda Bay townspeople knocked him to his knees, then stabbed and clubbed him to death. In that moment, as he watched the man fall, Kor began to feel fear. For the first time in his life, he sensed that he was going to lose.

  Outside the harbor, Yorik’s ship was listing to the side, trying to limp away as its hull filled with water after being damaged by the catapult missile. Five landing boats full of scarred raiders ready to die fighting had already launched from the sinking ship.

  The three large sailing ships outside the harbor, vessels of a type he had not seen before, closed in with inexorable momentum. Fully under sail, the three-masted ships came after the Norukai landing boats, and from their high decks, the sailors shot countless arrows and killed all the warriors who had been trying to escape. The nearest cargo ship scraped against the damaged serpent vessel, their hulls colliding. The sailors aboard leaped over the rail, swarming the deck of the damaged Norukai ship.

  Kor spun about to look at the larger disaster, not just the bodies of those he had killed lying around him. Twenty more Renda Bay defenders charged down the street toward him. They didn’t look terrified at all. Rather, their eyes showed a bloodlust that Kor had previously seen only on the Norukai.

  Backing away, looking for a defensible position, he glanced to the other side of the harbor, saw the professional soldiers forming a blockade, marching forward with their swords and spears to trap twenty Norukai who had no place to run. The raiders fought viciously, but failed, and their bodies dropped into the water.

  Sweeping his eyes across the battlefield, Kor made a quick count. He had lost three of his six serpent ships, and two-thirds of his warriors were likely dead. It was simply not possible! If other towns learned to stand up like this, the Norukai could face defeat after defeat.

  This was something entirely unexpected. Kor could not accept the idea that the Norukai were being defeated by a fishing village!

  He saw Lars and Yorik, still alive, struggling to pull their crews together on the three remaining ships, and Kor knew he had to withdraw with what remaining fighters he had, with the ships that could still sail. King Grieve needed to know what had happened here. In a hoarse voice, he bellowed the signal that all Norukai dreaded to hear, a signal that had rarely been used in many centuries.

  A retreat.

  Kor shouted for any Norukai fighters who could break away to rush back to their ships. He would lead them from Renda Bay and back out into open water so they could limp back to the main Norukai islands.

  His raiders were burned and bruised, and the fire in their hearts had been snuffed out. It might be better if he just stayed and died here, because once he reported his failure to the king, Kor would surely be sacrificed to the serpent god. But he couldn’t think of that. He had to save his warriors so they could return and fight again with greater frenzy. For vengeance.

  King Grieve had to know of this terrible and disturbing new threat, even if it cost Kor his life.

  He decapitated a burly villager who swung a sharpened spade at him. Kor didn’t even watch his victim fall as he sprinted back, hoping he could survive long enough to reach his own ship.

  CHAPTER 28

  Behind the walls of Ildakar, Nicci worked day and night to rally the city’s defenders, to arm them and train them for the surprise strike, now that the duma had set their plans in motion. Since the insidious attack from his twin sorceresses, the city had received no word from General Utros, no ultimatums, no requests. Nicci was sure the ancient general was building some strategy of his own, but she hoped Ildakar would strike first, taking him unawares.

  Even while she slept, Nicci gathered information through Mrra, roaming in her dreams with the spell-bonded sand panther. She glided through the shadows and studied the enemy troops. When she felt bold enough, the big cat even prowled among the troops, nothing more than a tawny blur. Mrra didn’t understand the human details of what she saw, but through her eyes Nicci could assess their camp, their numbers, supplies, and weapons, and she could see where their weaknesses were.

  Using feline senses, she could tell that these ancient warriors were not entirely human. They didn’t smell right, and their warm blood and flesh was cooler than a normal person’s.

  The following morning, Nicci delivered a report to the duma of what she and Mrra had seen. Nathan wasn’t there, claiming that he wanted to investigate another idea.

  In the meeting, Lady Olgya said, “My guild has crafted enough special silk to make protective cloaks for twenty gifted nobles, who will lead the charge in a few nights. Our worms are spinning themselves into exhaustion. The fleshmancers adapted and strengthened them, but they cannot go faster.”

  Nicci knew the preparations couldn’t simply continue forever. “General Utros is sure to move soon, and we have to strike first, or we will lose our element of surprise.”

  “Preparations continue throughout the city, and this will be a significant offensive,” said Damon. “Our fighters are gathering, training. Arms are being distributed. It will take at least three more days before we can hope to be ready to move.”

  “I’ve ordered guards posted at every gate, even the low shepherds’ doors,” Quentin said. “And they’ve been reinforced with spells. The walls are secure.”

  Oron frowned. “I’m more concerned about our former slaves who were willing to murder innocent nobles and burn down the city. Even with Rendell now elected to the duma, are all the slaves as committed as we are? What is to stop one of those traitors from slipping outside and selling information to the enemy?”

  Upset, Rendell rose from his stone bench. “We are sworn to protect Ildakar as much as you are. The slaves fought for justice, but they can see a better future here. I think I’ve gotten through to them. Once we rebuild the city, it will be partly theirs. Why would they betray us now?”

  Nicci narrowed her blue eyes. “I understand your passion, Rendell, but I don’t believe everyone is so altruistic. We don’t dare let a whisper get out to General Utros.”

  “Our greatest weapon is surprise, and we must not give it up,” Lani said. “We’ve made our plan, and we need to launch everything in this attack, cause as much damage as possible. We have to convince Utros that we are strong enough to defeat him.”

  The duma members responded with confidence and enthusiasm. Nicci hoped they were right.

  * * *

  Inside the fleshmancer’s silent, empty villa, Nathan stepped forward, feeling the weight of dangerous magic in the air.

  The two Ixax warriors towered above the rubble. Stone support columns had broken like giant tree trunks, toppling amid fragments of the shattered ceiling and collapsed walls. The weight of the entire building had fallen on top of the motionless behemoths, leaving smears of dust and splinters of stone on their armor, but causing no real damage to the titans. The remaining pair stood ready, as they had done for more than fifteen centuries, trapped and unable to move. But aware.

  Approaching the two giant figures alone, Nathan stared at them with awe and a thrill of fear, but even though he knew what horrific damage their unleashed comrade had caused, he allowed himself a small glimmer of hope. The wizard’s high leather boots crunched on the broken stone strewn across the cracked tiles.

  Somewhere, buried under the fresh dust and debris was a large red stain, now dried—all that remained of Andre, splattered blood, pummeled flesh, and splintered bone, after the lone awakened Ixax had released his fury. No one had bothered to clean the mess, since all of the fleshmancer’s servants and apprentices had abandoned him during the uprising.

  With the tip of his boot, Nathan kicked over a stone, exposing a wiry blood-encrusted hank of hair, next to a curved yellowish fragment, part of the fleshmancer’s skull. “Dear spirits,” he muttered. He couldn’t deny that Andre had
gotten what he deserved after tormenting the three Ixax for centuries.…

  The single released Ixax warrior had broken through the fleshmancer’s magical defenses. Andre had created the titans to defend Ildakar, but they had never been put to use. Out of boredom, he had spent centuries pestering them, tormenting them. No wonder the released giant had created havoc in Ildakar before Nathan managed to destroy it. The whole situation was regrettable.

  Now all of Ildakar was preparing to launch a surprise attack on the ancient army. The council had given the people a goal, a hope for real success, although Nathan thought their hope was based more on enthusiasm than on true military strategy. Maybe General Utros would be fooled, and maybe the Ildakaran defenders would cause some real damage. Or, the military genius might surprise them in turn. After reading so much history, Nathan would not underestimate Utros.

  He hoped to increase the city’s chances by finding a weapon unlike any the ancient army had ever seen. Could the Ixax warriors serve that purpose? Could they be controlled?

  He stepped over a toppled column and stood before the two armored titans, each fifteen feet tall. They couldn’t speak, but they would listen.

  Gathering his courage, remembering how he had faced the one enraged Ixax that had nearly destroyed him, he studied the giants. With his fresh wizard’s robes and his white hair, he did look impressive, like someone in command. The silence was tense and ominous, but Nathan confidently stared at the two mammoth figures.

  When he cleared his throat, the sound seemed excessively loud. “Hello!” As soon as the word left his lips, he realized how foolish it sounded. “My name is Nathan Rahl. I’m a wizard, but not from Ildakar. I have traveled here from far-off lands.”

  The two Ixax didn’t tremble, didn’t move. The binding spell prevented them. Thick iron helmets encased their heads, leaving only an eye slit. Thick metal armor wrapped their bodies, thickened at the shoulders, while chest plates were studded with rounded bosses, engraved with the sun-and-lightning symbol of Ildakar. Their massive arms were bare, with pebbled skin like concrete studded with gravel. Their hands were covered with huge gauntlets reinforced with iron knobs and sharp spikes.