The enemy formed into a flying wedge, ten ranks deep. Then, howling and barking, they charged ahead. A hail of arrows brought down the entire first row, but the rest paid no heed. Within seconds they were leaping onto the wall. Des swung the chain, lashing out with fury. Dogs yapped and fell at his heels, stunned and staggered from the blows.
“We’ll never hold, Captain,” called Dunbar. “There’s more of them now than yesterday.”
Des frantically looked about. To his left, where the wall was slightly broader, the few defenders were falling back. And he had no men to send to their aid; indeed, it was all he could do to hold his own side of the wall. “We’ll have to fall back, Dunbar. Form a new line at the corrals with the wounded. Are you game?”
“Whatever you say, Captain. Give the order.”
“Back to the corrals!” Des shouted as the vanguard of dogs broke completely through his lines. The defenders broke ranks and scrambled back to the fences. But now their backs were to the corrals and the high wall; this was the final position, there was nowhere else to retreat.
Swords flashed and the ground ran red with blood. The attackers pinned the defenders behind the fences, slowly nudging them into a close area. The cattle began to stir. They were frightened, ready at any moment to panic and stampede. The archers pounded away, Assan still giving the commands. Thousands fell with every minute, but it was no good. The enemy pressed on. The taste of victory was in their bellies and the lust for murder in their minds, and they were determined to be robbed of neither.
“Draw into a circle,” shouted Des, “maybe we can still hold.” And fighting for their very lives they managed to hold the dogs at bay for a few minutes more. But their position was indefensible. Des looked about desperately. The ropes he had used to climb down were still dangling from the East Wall. And Assan and his archers were screaming at his men to abandon the yard and try to scramble up to safety. “To the roofs!” commanded Des. “Every man get to the roofs. And lend a hand with the wounded.”
From the stables the wounded defenders came straggling and limping. And one by one they were helped onto the roofs and hoisted up the ropes. The dogs were now running through the yard at will; the archers were unable to halt them for even a moment. Des swung his chain, brought down a last few dogs, and made his way behind the faltering gate of the corrals. The cattle were now screaming in terror as fierce Warriors clambered all around them. Dunbar and the others made it to the roofs but Des was running through the corral, untying the gates.
“By the Fates!” shouted Assan in disbelief. “He’s going to stampede the cattle himself!”
The largest of the gates swung open. Des rolled to the side, barely in time as a thousand panicked steer bolted in unison. They smashed down the gate and the fence and ran amok through the yard. The charging dogs froze. They were standing in the path of the maddened cattle and had no way of stopping them. They turned and began to run back toward the walls as fast as they could, but for many it was too little, too late. Scores were trampled underfoot; they fell shrieking and moaning as the hooves crushed the life out of them. Then more eager than ever to gain freedom, the cattle tore up the entire compound. They crushed corpses and fences, and they slammed into the brick wall until it, too, began to crumble.
Des nimbly held close to the stables, edging his way around the side. An eager hand reached down. “Grab me, Captain,” called Dunbar. He took hold with both hands and was pulled up to the thatched roof. “You did it, Des,” cried Dunbar. “Bless my boots, you did it! You saved our lives!”
“But I lost the cattle,” sighed Des. “Once they run out to the Plain, the Master’s Warriors will tear them up.”
“What are you talking about? Look! Didn’t you see? Can’t you hear?”
“See what? Hear what?”
“The bugles, man! And the cavalry!”
There was indeed a blast of bugles; from beyond the low wall Des could see a hundred Guardsmen charging from their steeds, swords flashing and cutting down the fleeing dogs. Some of the cavalrymen swung way around the compound and were busily trying to herd the cattle and stop the stampede. It was an awesome task trying to tame a thousand frightened steer, but slowly they managed to bring them into some order and headed them through the Great Gate.
“They’re bringing them inside the city,” cried Des happily. “They’ll be saved after all.”
Tagg came racing over the corpses in the yard. He pulled firmly at his horse’s reins and the mare came to a halt. “Come on, Des,” he shouted. “Get up on my horse.”
Des glanced at Dunbar and the few other defenders on the roof. “Don’t worry about us,” said Dunbar with a wink. “We can climb up the ropes.”
“You won’t have to,” called Tagg. “There’s a wagon coming to bring everyone out.”
Des grinned and jumped from the roof, landed behind Tagg, and clutched tightly at his waist. “What happened, Tagg? Why are you here? Assan said —”
“The blazes with what Assan said,” laughed Tagg. “You’re a bloody hero again, Des. The Elder demanded that you and your brave defenders be saved, no matter what. I guess he felt you were just too valuable to lose. And when Assan saw the dogs make the last breach he ordered out the Guard. A hundred men to save your life. How about that? Of course we were ordered to save the cattle, too.”
Des laughed, but said nothing as Tagg rode away toward the Great Gate. He could not remember when he had slept last and right now a bed was all he could think of.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The air was stuffy and close. Des tossed and turned restlessly, his thoughts a scatter of images — leaping dogs, frenzied Night-Birds, screaming women and children. In the nightmare these helpless victims were calling to him to save them; but he was powerless. Before his eyes the dogs tore at the frightened children, and laughed as he cried out in anguish. “Where is your courage now?” barked the Master. Des desperately grabbed at him but the dog turned to smoke and disappeared. And all the while he taunted him: “Where is your courage now, Captain? Where is your courage now?”
Des screamed. He sat up on the side of the bed, soaked in perspiration. Both his pillow and blanket were tossed on the floor. A dream, he told himself, nothing more.
There was a pounding on his door, and an urgent voice. “Captain Desmond! Captain Desmond, wake up!”
Groggy, he got up and unbolted the door. An anxious soldier stood in the dark, panting, his face drawn and pale.
Des tried to clear his head. “What is it? Speak up!”
“The Elder, Lord Elon, wishes to see you now.”
Des stared at the distraught youth. “Now? In the middle of the night?”
“Yes, Captain. Now. Right away!”
He threw on his tunic, slipped into sandals and raced outside into the courtyard. The guard led him past the Great Hall, across the avenue and to the lower rooms of the Elder. Two gloomy soldiers, Guardsmen, stood solemnly and saluted as he entered.
The rooms were dark. Only a single candle was burning, and that came from the end of a narrow passageway that led to another chamber. It would be Elon’s bedchamber, Des thought.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Des turned. From the shadows came Bela. And behind him, still hidden in the dark, were three long-faced physicians.
“Bela, what — what’s going on? A sentry woke me and told me to come here as quick —”
Bela nodded glumly. “I told him to bring you. Elon wants you to be here.”
“Now? But why?” Des felt his heart skip a beat. He swallowed hard and gazed at Bela. The Counsel looked awkwardly to the floor.
“Tell me, Bela. What is it?”
“Elon is dying, Des. He’s suffered great pains in his chest. And it’s not the first time. He hid it from me, hid it from everyone ...”
“How do you know he’s dying? Perhaps the pains will pass?”
“Not this time,” said Bela, shaking his head. “He can hardly breathe. The end could come at any time.�
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Des wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and realized that his throat had become very dry. “Has the Council been told? Does Assan —”
Again the Counsel shook his head. “No. And they are not to know, at least not yet.”
“What do you mean? They have to know.”
Bela spoke low, but emphatically. “Elon wishes it this way. He wants to speak with us first. Even his physicians have been sworn to secrecy.”
Des nodded reluctantly. He would certainly follow the Elders’ wishes, but certainly this was all very strange. Assan was Elon’s brother. Surely he should have been here, at a time like this. Yet it was clear that he wasn’t nor would he be.
“You can come in now,” came a whisper.
Des looked to the end of the passageway and saw a woman beckoning to them. He squinted. It was Gwenn! What was she doing here? Had she too been called secretly in the middle of the night? Des walked behind Bela, a perplexed look on his face.
Gwenn stood back and held open the door to the bedroom. Des caught her eyes and forced a weak smile. The girl lowered her head, slipped past them and kneeled beside the edge of the bed. In the light of the flickering candle Elon’s face seemed white, the skin around his mouth twisted. Long bony hands lay at his side. A blanket was pulled up to his chin. Gwenn took one of the frail hands between her own and whispered. “They’re here, my Lord, as you asked.”
Elon opened his eyes and glanced toward the door. Both Bela and Des stood motionless, afraid to enter, yet afraid not to. The Elder raised his fingers feebly and beckoned.
“Closer, my children,” he wheezed. “Come closer.” Bela came around the side of the bed and kneeled next to Gwenn. Des walked around the other side and looked down at the aged face. There was pain, he could tell. He saw it in Elon’s eyes, but the Elder was still trying to hide it.
At length Elon looked to Bela; he reached out to touch him. “Ah, Bela. You have always been as a son to me, the son I never had.”
Bela grasped the outstretched hand. “My Lord,” he said through watery eyes, “I — I am honored that you would call me, a child of mere farmers, as your — son —”
“Don’t be so bloody humble,” said Elon, trying to be stern. “We’re not in Council now!”
The Counsel wiped away a tear. “And I love you, too, old one. You have always known it. Always.”
Elon nodded his head and smiled. “I shall miss you, Bela.” He stared at the young man for a few long moments and then turned his head toward Des.
Des stood firm and solid, as a soldier should, but he felt weak, like a child in the presence of his father.
“And you, good Captain,” whispered Elon. “You are wondering why I have sent for you.”
Des nodded without speaking.
“I wanted you here because I know I can trust you. Even as I can trust Gwenn and Nigel.”
“You know you can, my Lord,” replied Des. “I’ll not let you down. Whatever your will, I shall obey.”
Elon looked at him carefully. “Even after I am gone?”
“Even then, yes.”
“Good, good,” whispered Elon. “I knew I could count on you.”
“My Lord,” said Gwenn. “What is it that we may do for you?”
The Elder sighed, looked out at the black sky. “I am going to die,” he said. “The Fates have called me.”
“But you’re not, my Lord!” said Gwenn. “The physicians say they are hopeful.”
Elon touched her lips with his finger. “Hush, child,” he said. “It’s too late for that. I know I’m going to die. Is that not so, Bela?”
Bela nodded sorrowfully. “I knew it last night, Lord. It came to me in a dream.”
Elon grabbed weakly at the collar of Bela’s tunic. “Tell me,” he rasped. “Tell me the dream!”
“It was a good dream, my Lord, one which always will be vivid in my mind. In it, a great eagle descended from the Heavens and whisked you away beneath his great wings.”
“Ah, I see,” said Elon peacefully. “Then there is no doubt. But I am ready. There should be no grief. I have lived a rich and full life. A life most men would envy.” He glanced at their woeful faces, “but there is a single regret. I have unfinished work, work that cannot wait.”
“You have only to tell us what must be done,” said Gwenn.
Elon stroked tenderly at her hair, admired its softness, and envied Nigel both for his youth and — Gwenn. His calm was broken by a fit of coughing and heavy breathing. Gwenn jumped up to fetch the physicians but Bela stopped her. A few moments later Elon was ready to speak again.
“I need you to speak before the Council,” he said. “There is no time to be lost.”
Bela looked at him, puzzled. “Of course, Lord. I will be proud to speak.”
“You will be scorned,” warned Elon.
Bela glanced at Des, who looked even more puzzled than he. “No matter. I will do as you command.”
Then the Elder turned to Gwenn, then to Des. “And I want both of you to be there when he does.”
“Certainly, Lord,” said Des. “But why? What is it that’s so urgent?”
Elon smiled. “I give you all a terrible burden,” he said. “But if you fight hard enough perhaps you can prevail. And you must prevail, for the safety, indeed the existence, of the Haven rests with you. You will be alone, for I will be gone.”
“We’ll bear the burden, gladly,” said Gwenn. “But tell us what must be done.”
Elon nodded darkly. The time had come. “Listen to me, all of you. After my death Assan, my half-brother, will be chosen Elder. Of that there is no doubt. And as a brother, I love him deeply. He is a kind man, and a good man. But Assan is not a man of vision. I fear that his actions will be hasty, and he will listen to those who advise him to fight before we are prepared. If that happens, all will be lost.”
Again he began to cough. Gwenn wiped the spittle from his mouth. Elon waved her away; he tried to sit up. “As long as there is still breath in my body the Council will take your words as my own; they shall bear my weight. But once I am gone it will be too late. The plan will not be heeded.”
Des drew his face close. “A plan? Tell us!”
Elon drew them all closer. It was obvious his strength was going swiftly. He spoke in broken whispers, heavy and thick, and they all listened intently. Great men are few in the world, and Elon shone with the greatest. It was a heavy burden he left them with, that night, but as they had told him, it was one they gladly accepted. For here was a plan they could have faith in, a plan that could reverse the course of the war and indeed save the Haven from destruction.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Bela put his hands behind his back and searched the faces for a clue to their reaction. But it was slow in coming. Most members sat stony-faced, expressionless. A few seemed bewildered. He looked from one to the other, then to Assan. The future Elder sat back, staring at the tapestries. He did not quite know what to make of it.
A burly fat man suddenly stood and broke the silence. He scratched at his chin, then smiled. “This sounds like the chatter of fools,” he said. He glowered at Bela. “You have recited a fable from a book of fables. I cannot believe you expect us to take it seriously.”
The Counsel turned to his antagonist, red with anger. Not for himself, he was used to that, but for Elon. “It is not a book of fables,” he said as calmly as he could. “It is from a book of the Old Time, from the Hall of Knowledge.”
“Bah,” said Rondo, interrupting. “What matter? It still makes no sense. Even a child will tell you that!”
There was a ripple of laughter. A stern glance from Assan cut it off. “Perhaps a child can see more than you,” Bela shot back. “At least he listens.”
Rondo pursed his lips. His eyes focused on Bela’s. “No man of reason can understand this gibberish,” he said.
The Counsel met his gaze. “If you were as skilled with your mind as you are with your tongue, you would have understood.”
This caused many of the Lords to gasp. Rondo held his arm up to quiet them. “I would gladly have listened, if my head were ruled by fantasies, as yours clearly is.”
The exchange was becoming angry. Many were shocked by the outburst.
“Insult is uncalled for,” said Assan dryly. “Make your point, Rondo.”
The Lord bowed slightly and smiled. “We have wasted our time,” he said. “Let us now discuss intelligent matters. The fable Bela has told is utterly preposterous, and I reject it totally. I wonder if our Counsel jokes with us.”
Des clenched his teeth, stepped ahead, and looked to Rondo. “How dare you speak like this?” he barked. “It is an outrage!”
“And how dare you question my right to speak?” countered Rondo. “I am a Lord, not a soldier! And this is the Council you address, not some dim-witted peasants in the barracks!”
Desmond’s eyes flashed. He clutched menacingly at the hilt of his sword. Lord Xotha, a man known for wisdom and a cool head, stepped in front of the hot-blooded soldier. “Tempers will not do us any good,” he said. Then he looked to Rondo. “But Captain Desmond is right. You have no reason to demean our Counsel. Do you forget he speaks not for himself, but for Elon?”
“Our Elder is near death,” said the man next to Rondo. “We all know that. His words bear little meaning now!”
The Lords began to argue among themselves. It was clear that they were badly divided. Assan lifted himself from his chair; he stared coldly. Order was restored without a single word. He peered over to the scribes who were writing down every remark. “Strike what was just said from the record,” he told them. “I want no one to know of our disgraceful outbursts.” Then he looked to Bela. The Counsel stood rigid, teeth clenched.
“No one means to make sport of my brother’s plan,” he said, “but it is hard for us to understand. The tale you told poses a riddle. I must learn from it.”
Many of the Lords nodded in agreement. Rondo, feeling that most were on his side, grinned from ear to ear. “It seems that both our Counsel and Captain have been too long with that dreamer Nigel and his parrot!” He raised his arms and flapped them like a bird and began to chirp. There were howls of laughter.
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