Nathan smiled up at the armored giants. He tapped the words with his fingertip. “You were afraid too, weren’t you? You knew you had to protect your families, and when the desperate call went out, three of you agreed to give up your lives and your loved ones for the sake of Ildakar.” Though neither of the Ixax moved at all, he imagined that they nodded.
Nathan turned the pages, summarizing the words. “Andre says he chose you from more than a dozen volunteers to become the mighty Ixax. Do you remember your names? Do they sound familiar?” He looked up. “Jonathan, Rald, and Denn. You were young men, talented fighters. Andre says that you were the pick of your commanders, that you all excelled in personal combat.”
Nathan didn’t know which one of the three he had killed, which two remained, but he was sure all three volunteers had known each other well. “Jonathan had a wife named Maria and a daughter who was sick. As part of the agreement, the wizards agreed to heal the little girl once he volunteered to become an Ixax.” He looked down at the pages, at the descriptions. “Rald had a sweetheart, but he broke off his relationship because he believed this was a greater duty.” Nathan felt a lump in his throat. “And Denn came from a large family with four brothers and three sisters. He was the youngest, a recruit for the army of Ildakar. His family was so proud of him.”
He looked down again at the pages of Andre’s diary. The fleshmancer had viewed Rald, Jonathan, and Denn as mere specimens, test subjects, not as tragic human beings. He had ignored their bravery and everything they were giving up. Nathan decided not to read that part of the diary aloud to them.
The fleshmancer described the transformative magic he had used, how he unleashed energy to make the young men’s bones grow like trees, their muscles swell and expand, their bodies becoming giants through a combination of fleshmancy and metallurgy. Andre had reinforced their bones with bronze, added armor to their flesh in order to turn the warriors into something more than human. But Nathan knew they were still human inside.
“You agreed to fight for Ildakar,” he said. “But you never got your chance. Andre was an unkind, heartless man. I know that, as do you. He tormented you needlessly.” He brushed his pale hair away from his cheek and closed the book. He knew what was written there, but he didn’t want to read any more of the fleshmancer’s petulant complaints against the old duma for not letting him unleash his monstrous warriors.
“Your reasons were pure,” Nathan reminded the giants. “I know that your hearts remember. Even though your families, your sweethearts, your children are long gone, Ildakar still needs you. If the time comes, I hope you remember the real reason that you gave up so much. There are good people here, just as you were good people.”
Nathan waited in silence for a long moment, then stood. “I will come back, I promise. I’ll tell you more stories.”
CHAPTER 53
As the cold dawn washed over the mountains, Verna shaded her eyes. Because of the ancient army camped beneath the glaciers, she no longer saw the beauty of Kol Adair. She now knew that the enemy soldiers weren’t quite human, and they were on the move from Ildakar, thousands of them. The army had no visible tents, fires, or supplies, just a powerful force moving through the mountains. The prelate could only imagine how much destruction they would cause as they crossed the Old World.
“It is not natural,” General Zimmer said. His face was ruddy, and beads of perspiration stood out on his brow. “The D’Haran army is sworn to fight the enemies of Lord Rahl, and there’s no doubt it is an invasion force.”
“But where are they going?” Verna asked. “Who is their commander?”
“They have gone away from Ildakar,” Renn said. “Maybe that is a good thing, from a certain point of view?”
“There is nothing good about this.” Captain Trevor shook his head. “What can we do to stop them? We are only a handful against thousands.”
Amber continued to stare, her face flushed. “What if they find Cliffwall?”
As the early-morning light spilled over the crags, the enemy army began to stir. Verna said quietly, “We need to hurry, General, whatever we do. Right now, they are vulnerable. They don’t suspect we have seen them.”
“Why should they care about a few dozen people anyway?” Renn asked. “We are insignificant.”
“We’re not insignificant,” Verna said, “and neither are you, Renn. You are a wizard of Ildakar. I am a Sister of the Light. Even young Amber knows some basic magic, as do these Cliffwall scholars.” She gestured to the wide-eyed scholars and memmers who had accompanied them from the canyon archive. “They wanted to learn how to use magic. Now the time has come, and we can’t wait.”
“You want to attack thousands of ancient soldiers with magic?” Renn sounded skeptical. “What would you suggest? Do you have spells that can wipe out an army of half-petrified warriors? I would love to learn them!”
“It would be folly to attack an enemy army of that size with a handful of spells,” Verna said. “We must try something else.”
“What did you have in mind, Prelate?” Zimmer asked. “Give me a viable battle plan.”
Sheltered by the sparse trees, she looked to the cliffs above the large encampment, where morning sunlight dazzled on the snow hanging on the steep slope. “We don’t fight the army directly.” She narrowed her eyes as she pointed up. “We use the glaciers as our weapon.”
Renn chuckled. “That might indeed have sufficient force. Good idea, Prelate. I see that Nicci is not the only woman with a ruthless imagination when faced with a powerful enemy.”
Verna sent word among the rest of the Sisters of the Light, Oliver and Peretta, and the gifted and studious scholars from Cliffwall. They all hurriedly gathered around, knowing they would miss their chance once the army moved.
Renn rubbed his chubby hands together in the brisk morning chill, his eyes bright. “Fifteen centuries ago, General Utros laid siege to Ildakar, and this is my chance to strike a real blow. At last I can be a true hero to my city.”
General Zimmer was all business. “What do you need from my soldiers, Prelate?”
Verna considered the high wall of packed snow and ice that had collected above where the thousands of enemy soldiers had gathered. As the army made preparations to pack up camp, she knew all those fighting men would cross Kol Adair and march down to the high desert plains. With their sheer numbers, some scouting expedition would surely discover the hidden canyon, where they would find and overwhelm the Cliffwall archive.
“They are in a perfect position now. We have to stop them before they move out,” she said. The rising sun sparkled on the glacial ice fields. “General, have scouts take all our gifted up near the glaciers without being seen.” She glanced at Renn’s rich maroon robes. “Is there a way you can be less obvious?”
He frowned at the lush fabric he wore. “If you insist.” He released his gift, and the deep maroon shifted into a mottled gray and white that would be invisible up in the tundra. “Not my preference, but it will do.”
The soldiers were ready to help in any way possible. Captain Trevor stepped up to Zimmer. “My men and I wish to fight for Ildakar.”
“You’ll have your chance, Captain,” Renn said, with a glance at Verna, “but right now it is time for a wizard. Leave it to the prelate and me.”
At a fast pace, D’Haran scouts led the way around the bowl and up the slopes to the ice fields. Verna and Renn, the Sisters and the gifted scholars picked their way among the forest deadfall, climbing through sparse trees and over boulders, higher into the rocky cliffs. Below, as the day warmed and illuminated the rugged valley, the ancient army began to form ranks for the next march. Although Verna was out of breath, she urged the climbers to greater speed. “If we don’t get to the glacier soon, we will miss our chance.”
Scouts raced ahead, finding the easiest routes. “That way ends in a blind cliff,” one man said, gesturing them back. “We have to go down to that spine of rock and then up into those adjacent bands. See where it picks up?” Some of the Cliffwall s
cholars muttered in dismay, but Verna pressed on.
Renn was breathing hard in the thin air. “I hope I have the strength to use my magic once we get there.”
“You will,” Verna replied, “you have to.”
Finally, the scouts guided them through huge talus boulders covered with patches of old snow. Ahead, they looked at the broken hummocks of the glacier field. Each winter the snowfall in the mountains covered the peaks, and even high summer didn’t melt it completely, leaving layers that built year after year. Now, heavy glaciers hung poised above the bowl where the army was breaking camp.
Verna’s heart skipped a beat. “Hurry! We need to use our magic.”
Sister Rhoda’s brow was furrowed with concern. “Now that we’re here, Prelate, how do we shove this mountainside of ice and snow down on them?”
“Consider the problem in smaller pieces,” Verna said. “We can’t move all of the snow, but we can release heat. We melt pockets at the bottom, flash the snow into steam, release loose sections. The water itself will lubricate the higher layers of the glacier.” She gestured to large fissures. “It’s already just waiting to slide down in an avalanche.”
She fell silent and closed her eyes. “You can sense the power here. We just need to nudge it. Once it starts, the steam will widen the fissures, and the rest will take care of itself.” She smiled, showing grim confidence. “Nature wants to move this glacier down the steep slope. We merely have to encourage it.”
Renn smiled. “By the Keeper’s beard, I see what you’re saying. We can do it.”
Oliver nodded. “We learned how to boil water for tea, so we will do the same thing but on a larger scale.”
Amber stared across the ice field and pointed upward. “Start with that section up there, near the edge. When the cornice comes down, the rest of the glacier wall should fall behind it.”
“Then let’s not waste time,” Renn said. He gestured with his hands, closed his eyes, and released his powerful gift with a sizzle in the air.
Below in the hanging valley, Verna could hear the loud voices of enemy soldiers as they prepared to move out. She extended her gift into the piles of packed snow and ice and let her magic go into the widening cracks in the blue ice. She released her heat, felt the water melt.
The Cliffwall scholars did the same. The Sisters of the Light pushed, releasing waves of warmth that crisscrossed the glacier field like hot knives. Pockets of steam boiled up, expanding weak voids. Puffs of white vapor coughed out of softer pockets in the snow.
Like a shattering tree creaking and cracking, the glacier wall spread apart. Beneath it, warm water mixed with boulders and glacial debris to form a soup of mud and melted snow.
Verna felt a thrill of excitement. Nearby, Renn clenched his left hand into a fist and gestured in the air, as if the motion helped him hurl his magic with greater force. With a booming crack, the piled cornice of snow on the high cliff shuddered free and slid down the rock face.
That was just the beginning.
Mists of steam curled from the sliding glacier. Sheets of ice shifted and slid forward to crash into the next section of ice, knocking it loose. The Sisters and their trainees concentrated on the front wall, heating the dark boulders trapped inside the ice so that they, too, created pockets of steam, melting more ice.
In the bowl beneath the glacier, thousands of enemy soldiers saw the frozen mountainside shifting and sliding toward them like a living thing. Their outcry echoed into the air as loud as the avalanche.
Verna continued to release her gift, melting more sections of the ice underneath, and soon the entire glacier shoved itself forward, picking up momentum as it rumbled down the mountain with a catastrophic roar.
Beside her, Amber squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her hands, and rhythmically pounded the ground, trying to melt more and more of the snow. Verna touched her wrist, stopped her. “That’s enough, child. We’ve done it.”
Amber opened her eyes and turned to watch as the nightmare of snow blocks and ice slabs brought half the mountain down with it. The roar was deafening. Steam and snow spray poured up like a thunderstorm into the air.
The stone army was trapped in the hanging valley, and the glacier buried them in an avalanche that was centuries in the making.
* * *
Long after the expeditionary army had been inundated, Verna sat back, shaking, not from exertion, but from the realization of what she had done.
Renn seemed delighted. “Oh, that was magnificent! Exactly what a wizard of Ildakar should do.”
Verna watched as the snow and ice continued to settle, as rocks pattered down from the now-naked patch of cliff. The invasion force was entirely buried. “It was what we needed to do,” she said.
CHAPTER 54
As the most powerful sorceress in Lord Rahl’s army, Nicci was feared and respected. She had once murdered a wizard and stolen his abilities, had learned the Subtractive side of magic through her dark service to the Keeper, and she had become known as Death’s Mistress.
Thus, when she presented her warning about Utros and his vast army, the D’Haran garrison believed her. General Linden brought in military scribes to take down her report in detail, and within hours copies were dispatched by two separate riders racing north to the People’s Palace. Nicci could crush petty dictators and slave masters, but defeating hundreds of thousands of warriors went beyond what she could deal with alone.
But she didn’t have to do everything alone. It had taken her a long time to realize that.
General Linden gathered a succession of his line officers, foot soldiers, cavalry riders, and scouts, so she could show them the terrifying images preserved in Elsa’s glass. “I want them all to know,” Linden said. “The more our army understands the scope of this threat, the better prepared they’ll be to face it.”
Nicci walked slowly along the lines of soldiers gathered inside the garrison walls, showing them the images, and she saw that she had struck fear—not gibbering terror, but a genuine respect. By nightfall she had accomplished what she needed to do and decided it was time to return to Ildakar.
She had to make sure the walled city was still safe against the siege. If so, Nicci would travel through the sliph to other large cities along the coast and continue spreading her warning.
Because it was already after dark, Nicci would not enter the dense and trackless Hagen Woods in the hope of finding the isolated sliph well. Instead, she informed Linden, “I will sleep in the barracks and leave at dawn.”
“It must be a long journey to Ildakar,” Linden said. “Do you need supplies? A military escort?”
“I have other means of travel.”
He found her a private room in the officers’ quarters, which were redolent of fresh sawdust and green pine. The sweet wood fragrance contrasted with the fishy-smelling kraken-oil lantern that burned on the writing desk. Nicci opened the window shutters to let the cool night breeze drift in. With a flick of her fingers, she snuffed out the lantern from the other side of the room and settled back on the straw mattress. She needed no further comforts. As Nicci drifted off, she cleared her thoughts of strategy, concerns about Ildakar’s defenses against General Utros, and the loss of Bannon Farmer. She would sleep.
When she descended into resistant dreams, she felt an animal presence waiting there, a feline awareness that was bound to her. Mrra. Though Tanimura was far on the other side of the Old World, the sand panther remembered Nicci in her dreams.
They ran together. Her wiry muscles pulled her along as she bounded with her hind legs to land on her wide front paws, feeling the curved claws dig into the turf. Nicci felt the joy of being part of the big cat’s fine, muscular body. She was exerting herself to her wild limits, fiercely running.
She quickly realized that Mrra was not hunting, and the cat’s pounding heart was more than just the joy of racing free. She was terrified.
Monstrous predators were pursuing the sand panther. Mrra ran along the hills, each leap a desperate attempt t
o escape. Her long tail thrashed, her claws tore up the dirt. She leaped over a fallen tree as she raced along the black fringe of the burned grass. Her sharp ears heard panting and slavering behind her, like the bellows in a blacksmith shop.
Two huge creatures ran after her, each as large as a small horse, dripping saliva from yellow fangs. They were ferocious and intent on tearing her apart. Mrra ran with all her might. Behind her, the creatures thundered along, their jaws and fangs ready to rip her flank, tear out her throat.
Mrra glanced back, and her golden eyes saw the pursuers, huge wolflike beasts with rounded ears, long heads, and tan fur that made them hard to see among the dry grasses. They snarled, springing forward. Mrra put on another burst of speed, and Nicci offered her own energy, driving the panther faster. But Mrra was exhausted, nearly ready to collapse.
Nicci could only guess what those beasts might be. She’d heard Richard describe heart hounds, vicious creatures that guarded the misty boundaries and the veil to the underworld. The more Nicci recalled his stories, the more convinced she became that these were heart hounds. Had they somehow slipped through the veil? But Richard had sealed it! The walls of the underworld should never have allowed such monsters to return.
Mrra dashed into a thicket of scrub oak. She clattered through fallen branches and leaped over a lichen-mottled boulder. The heart hounds rushed into the thicket after her and kept drawing closer.
Nicci knew Mrra couldn’t elude them, whether in the forests or in the grassy hills. Heart hounds had senses so acute they could hear a victim’s heartbeat even from a distance. Richard had also said the monsters would tear out the heart of their prey and devour it first as a bloody prize.
Nicci rode inside Mrra, pushed her, helped her, but she was in far-off Tanimura, and she couldn’t extend her gift through the big cat. She could only use the big panther’s body.
Running would not be enough.
There was no place to hide in the grassy hills, even in the darkness.
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