CHAPTER 34
Avari!"
She felt fingers brush back her blood-matted hair, then lift her head. Pain pierced her senses, growing as she stirred.
"Avari, wake up!"
Avari's eyes fluttered, then snapped open. Although she still felt the touch of hands, she saw no one in the dim light. She jerked to fend off the unseen touch, but manacles restrained her limbs. Still groggy, she glared madly into the darkness.
"Avari, calm down! It is all right. I am here." Shay gripped her hand, and his familiar, soothing tone quieted her.
"Shay, what... Ohhhhhhh." Anguish boiled through the haze of disorientation: the memory of watching Darkmist writhe in her grip, then the stunning blow. "I fouled things up, didn't I?"
"Do not worry, Avari," Shay whispered. "I have a spell to open your manacles, then I will renew your invisibility."
"Great!" she said, visions of rescuing their companions and attacking Darkmist anew dancing in her head. Companions...
"Wait, Shay!" she protested. "You can't free me! If I disappear, they'll know something's up."
"I cannot just leave you here!" he objected.
"You've got to!" she insisted, though the thought of freedom set her heart racing. "They don't know you exist. Until you find the others, we can't risk an escape attempt."
"You are right, of course," Shay agreed, his voice trembling.
Avari sensed his reluctance and, truth be told, shared it. She wanted nothing more than to be freed, but she had ruined their plan for a stealthy intrusion; she couldn't risk ruining everything.
"I'll be all right; you know where I am. Find out if the dragon has arrived with DoHeney, Lynthalsea and the gems."
"Oh... I... I must tell you; Darkmist took the gem from you."
Stunned, Avari noticed for the first time that all her belongings were gone. How could she have been so stupid? She jerked her raw wrists against the manacles in fury, cringing more at the noise than the pain. But the pain cleared her thoughts.
"Shay, you've got to find out where he keeps that gem! I'm not going anywhere. Find out where it is, but don't try to take it! When the others get here, we'll at least know where to look.
"All right," Shay agreed. "But there is one thing I can do for you before I go. Hold still..."
Avari smiled as the hushed airy syllables of Shay's prayer reached her ears. The wound on her head closed, and the cuts on her wrists vanished. But as he finished, a new worry struck her.
"Shay! Won't they notice that I'm healed? "
"Don't worry," he assured her. "Your face is still covered with blood. You look as bad as I have ever seen you!"
"Thanks," she said, smiling at his attempt at levity. "Now, get out of here. And don't get caught!"
"Rest assured, Avari, that is my foremost intention."
His firm pat on her shoulder almost broke her stoicism, but her clenched jaw restrained her plea for him to free her. She took some consolation in the fact that she could not hear the faintest whisper of his boots as he walked away.
"There is no way in Xakra's limitless labyrinth that a simple banishment is going to affect Cannoth!" Calmarel raved. "He’ll laugh at you and proceed to feed on your entrails!"
"And if you invoke a straightforward Deitic Dominion invocation, it will affect everyone in the room!" Lysethra snapped, losing patience with her sister's arguments. "That includes Iveron, his minions, and ourselves. And while I might enjoy some time away, Necrol is not my idea of a vacation spot! That invocation must be tailored to Cannoth alone."
"Then I'll have to include his soul-name in the invocation."
"You expect Xakra or Pergamon to confront Mortas and acquire a Fargmir's soul-name as a special favor?" Lysethra asked. "You know very well that the Dark Five are angry with us for plotting against the mediator."
"So what if they're angry!" Calmarel raged. "So am I! So are you! So is the mediator! Fortunately, the Dark Five must support us if they want their precious plans to remain secret."
Lysethra seethed at her sibling. Calmarel might be walking the edge of blasphemy, but her logic was flawless.
"Very well," she conceded. "We will contact Xakra together and beg Her indulgence. If She grants us the Fargmir's soul-name, we will use it. But don't forget: sending Iveron's vassal back to Necrol is not going to put our brother in a good mood."
"Frankly, Seth, I don't give a rotten rat carcass about Iveron's moods!" Calmarel snapped.
"Neither do I," Lysethra agreed, "but if Iveron still wields the might of those gems after Cannoth is banished, I would give about the same for our lives."
"In which case we will be judged by the Dark Gods together." Calmarel lifted the spider pendant to her lips. "In the meantime, I suggest we prepare. It will take much to gain Xakra's favor, considering our present state in Her eyes."
"I’ll meet you in the temple in an hour." Lysethra turned and strode from the room without looking back.
"In an hour, then," Calmarel agreed, watching her go.
"That's much better," Yenjil told the priestess of Eloss who had tended his injured ribs. "You may go."
"But, sir, there is still damage that needs—"
"On with you!" the captain snapped a bit too harshly; the young priestess was just doing her job. "See to Sergeant Kaplan. I need him back in the saddle by sundown."
"Yes, sir," she said sullenly as she rose to go.
As she turned away, he noticed the blood-speckled flail hanging from her hip. She had taken an active part in the day's slaughter, saving the lives of four wounded soldiers.
His forces had suffered eighty-seven casualties: thirty-two of those would never again see the light of day, and two had been irrevocably maimed. Militarily, it was a stunning victory, but Yenjil knew his aching ribs would be far less painful than delivering death tidings to even one soldier's next of kin, and there would surely be more deaths before this trip was done.
That is, he thought cynically, if I survive the next few days.
"Here."
Yenjil turned to see Feldspar holding a steaming tin cup toward him. The aroma of blackbrew touched his nostrils.
"No, thank you," the captain said. "I've drunk enough blackbrew in the past two hours to float a barge."
"Then you need this more than I thought," the mage said, forcing the cup into his hands. "It's my own special recipe."
"Oh?" Thallon took the cup and sniffed. The strong scent of brandy, blackbrew and spices wafted up to him. "Interesting concoction, though a cup of poison might better suit my mood." He sipped, and the brandy tingled his throat. "Mmm, good."
The tingling radiated out to his extremities, even extending to his fingers and aching toes. He drank the rest down, and with each swallow, the tingling increased. The captain looked into the cup, then at the mischievous grin upon Feldspar's features.
"What was in that?" he asked accusingly.
"Just a little pick-me-up," the mage said, sipping his own cup more slowly. "Something I've been dabbling with for years."
"You're feeding me potions?" Thallon stared once again into the empty cup, then began pacing with excess energy. "What an effect! " Then he stopped, "Though I wish you hadn't done it."
"Why-ever not?" Feldspar scoffed, draining his own cup.
"Because now it's impossible for me to gauge how exhausted my troops are," the captain explained. "It'll be easy to drive them too hard if I feel like this."
"Ah, but that's why I did it, you see," the smiling wizard argued. "A great deal of their strength flows from you, Captain. If you appear unaffected by the long march and the day's battle, it will give them strength as well. There is much more strength in the human will than in the human body, Yenjil."
"Now you're starting to sound like Cercy," he said.
"Oh, you think so, do you?" Feldspar grabbed his arm. "Come and see what your troops truly think of you, Captain."
"What? Where are we going? I've got things to attend to. I can't go traipsing off to—"
But Thallon knew where the mage was guiding him, and felt all the more trepidation for it. On the other side of a low rise just off the road was the grassy fen where they had lain their fallen to rest. He had already spent over an hour here, looking into the faces of his dead soldiers before they were covered with earth.
One thing had been added, however: a man-high obelisk of dark stone thrust skyward just up-slope of the field of thirty-two graves. The firm block letters engraved upon its surface—obviously the wizard's handiwork—shone pale against its luster. Feldspar guided him to the marker and indicated the inscription.
It read:
Here lie the strong
who would protect the weak.
Honor them
whenever you think of freedom.
Thallon
"I inscribed the stone as your troops requested," Feldspar said. "Perhaps you remember those words; they were the dedication of a book with the rather unimaginative title of Small Unit Tactics, written by a young field commander some twelve years ago."
"It seems like a century," Yenjil responded. "Words written by another man in another time, Feldspar."
"Perhaps," the mage admitted, "but know that every member of your company has read those words and has taken them to heart, whether you still believe them or not."
Yenjil's eyes snapped up to meet the mage's. Nobody believed those words more than he. Any military man who did not live by that simple ideal was no more than a trained bully.
"Thank you, Feldspar, I—"
"Ahh, Captain! There you are!" Minister Cercy huffed up the rise, his robes unblemished from the day's ordeal. "I want to congratulate you on your victory! Such a rout I have never seen! I didn't think you could pull it off, but your use of ruse and ambush were flawless. This is one for the books, Thallon!"
"I appreciate your opinion, Cercy, but I'm really not in the mood for celebration." He indicated the field behind him. "You see, we've buried thirty-two of our own today, and I just—"
"Thirty-two!" the minister spouted. "Is that all? By the gods, man, that is the finest kill-to-loss ratio I've ever heard of! You could very well receive knighthood for this, my boy."
"I have no interest in knighthood, Cercy," Thallon countered, feeling the barrier that controlled his temper begin to melt. "These fine soldiers died today. Please show a little re—"
"Oh, and I'm sure they died with all honor and proper valor, Captain, but this could put our names in the history books!"
"Excuse me for a moment," the captain said with a short bow, turning to hail a detail that had emerged from the forest where they were gathering poles for stretchers. "Corporal!"
"Oye, sar!" The slim noncom halted his unit and ran over.
"I have two assignments for you, Corporal..."
"Broygull, sar!"
"Corporal Broygull. First, tell Sergeant Kaplan that the column moves out in two hours. We will be halfway to Beriknor by dusk, and will cover the rest before sunrise tomorrow."
"Captain Thallon, you can't be serious!" Cercy interjected. "Your men are exhausted; you must let them rest! Besides, I was planning to have the cook prepare us a celebratory feast."
"Second," Thallon continued, ignoring Cercy, "transport Minister Cercy's unconscious body to the medical wagon. There you will bind and gag him for return to Raven. Understood?"
"Oi'd be 'appy te, sar!" the corporal exclaimed with a grin. Cercy, meanwhile, seemed baffled by the exchange.
"Now see here, Cap—"
But Minister Cercy's words were cut off by the meaty impact of his chin colliding with Captain Thallon's fist.
CHAPTER 35
The lancer thundered up to the column at full tilt and reined to a slippery stop in front of the cavalry contingent. The scout saluted, trying to sooth his lathered mount as he gave his message.
"It's as Master Feldspar described, Captain," the soldier said. "The main enemy camp is just out of bowshot of the north gate into Beriknor. There are smaller camps at the east and west gates, but not more'n a hundred troops each. The area's clear between each camp. Catapults are set up, but no siege towers."
"Fires within the city?" Thallon asked.
"No smoke but from chimneys, sir," the scout responded.
Thallon dismissed the tired youth and eyed the sky. "Full daylight will be upon us by the time we're ready. If your spells work as planned, the siege should be broken before noon."
"You have a great deal of confidence for being outnumbered five to one, Captain," the wizard admonished with a scowl. "What secret weapon do you wield to ensure our victory?"
"Who said anything about victory?" Thallon scoffed. "I only hope to break the siege. Once we disrupt the enemy's organization and join forces with the city militia, they’d be insane to remain on open ground."
"And if the Beriknor militia does not have a taste for battle?" the wizard asked. "What then, Captain?"
"That's why our maneuvers put us near the east gate. At worst, we’ll retreat into the city." He looked at the elderly mage with concern. "Why so troubled? You've notified the emperor's archmage of the situation here, so we will be reinforced soon. Have your mystic powers told you otherwise?"
"Mystic powers, my bony butt!" Feldspar swore. "I just don't like the odds, Captain. But you undoubtedly know a great deal more than I do about such matters; pay me no heed."
The wizard turned his grey mare and moved to his place near the infantry and archers. Thallon clenched his jaw at the mage's condescending confidence, his mind whirling with the hundreds of things that could go wrong, each of which would cost lives.
The dragon settled onto the parapet of Zellohar Keep with admirable precision, but DoHeney was not in an admirable mood. As the beast bellowed for the guards to fetch Lord Darkmist, the dwarf cradled the unconscious elf in his arms, checking her breathing. He had been unable to do much for Lynthalsea, other than induce her to swallow some water.
DoHeney itched to use the gems against the dragon, but each perch it had stopped at during their journey had been as inaccessible as the first, and Zellohar crawled with Darkmist's vermin. But there was one more card he could play.
"Hey, dragon!" the dwarf yelled. "How much is that scum sucker Darkmist payin' ye ta do his dirty work fer him, eh?"
"Quiet, dwarf!" Phlegothax rumbled. "Now that I have delivered you, I can eat you without repercussions."
"Ha! Yer teeth ain't sharp enough ta eat a dwarf, lizard!" DoHeney bounced to his feet and glared up at Phlegothax as if their roles were reversed. "What makes ye think he's gonna treat ye any better'n he's done us, eh? Here we found his magical gems fer him, and look how he repays us."
"You stole the gems from him," the looming beast corrected, "and you shall get all the reward you deserve."
"Is that what he told ye, then?" he asked as he warmed to his bluff. If there was one thing DoHeney knew how to do, it was spin a tale. He had heard that dragons were proud and quick to take offence, but also that they kept their word—usually. He was betting on that last part. "I thought as much. We stole 'em alright; we stole 'em back after he cheated us. He's a lyin' sack o' slime, he is. I bet he never even told ye what them things is fer, did he?"
"I have no interest in the gems' purpose," Phlegothax said, and DoHeney could tell it was a lie.
The dragon's response also told him that the dragon had no idea of King DoZikell's original use of the cornerstones to imprison Darkmist within the mountain. Just as he'd hoped... It was a huge gamble, but it was also his only chance...
"You will be dead soon, and I will have all the reward I desire."
"Well, I hope ye desire ta be a bunch o' charred bones, then," the dwarf scoffed. "Fer if he gets his hands on all four o' these things, that's all any of us'll be."
"What proof have you that Lord Darkmist plans to betray me?" the dragon rumbled.
"Proof! Why, proof's the easiest
thing in the world to give ye!" DoHeney spouted, grinning. "I'll show ye what yer friend Darkmist done to another o' yer kind, but ye gotta make it worth me while. What'll ye do fer me?"
A deep rumble sounded within the dragon's chest, a rumble that DoHeney hoped was contemplative, rather than simply hungry.
"If you speak the truth, which I doubt, I will take you out of Zellohar Keep." Then Phlegothax leaned down and bared his saber-like teeth in a grin of malice. "But if you are lying, I will hang you from that minaret by your intestines."
"Uh... understood." With a twinge of worry, DoHeney pointed toward the keep's entrance. "Now just follow me..."
He led the way while Phlegothax lifted the unconscious elf and followed him down to the courtyard and into the keep.
"Ye see there," the dwarf said as the great beast ducked through the doors and peered into the great hall. "Ye see what Darkmist done to the last dragon in his service?"
Phlegothax lumbered into the dusty room, dropping the limp elf by the doorway. The great beast moved slowly, staring at the immense skeleton as if it might leap up and attack.
DoHeney cradled Lynthalsea and worried over her pale face while the dragon poked around. The empty corridor behind beckoned to him. He could flee, even bearing the elf, but what good would it do? They would never get out of the keep. The only way out was with the dragon.
"This dragon died in battle with dwarves!" the beast snarled, turning to glare at DoHeney. "You have deceived me!"
"Oh, have I now?" DoHeney replied smoothly. "And when did ye ever hear o' a battle to which there was no victor, eh? Dwarves'd never leave their dead lyin' about, and, if the dragon had won, why, he'd still be alive today now, wouldn't he?"
"She," Phlegothax corrected. "This dragon was female." The great head turned and bent low again, sniffing the ancient bones. "This dragon was the bearer of my own egg."
"Yer mother?" DoHeney blurted in surprise, his mischievous eyes twinkling. "Why that slimy, cheatin', lyin', betrayin' piece o' scum! That filthy Nekdukarr waited 'til yer kin and me own were locked in a noble battle. Then, when everyone was busy, he used the power o' them gems ta stab 'em both in the back!"
Nekdukarr Page 28
