Tarag Paedori roared his god’s name and continued on, reveling in the glory of a proper savage battle.
Behind him, around him the Sa’ba Taalor moved onward, pushing themselves against an army of stone.
Swech listened and obeyed. She once again climbed to the roofs and along with her a dozen others. They carried few weapons and they spoke not at all. The war was on. The Great Tide crashed along the edges of the city and Paedle told her it was time.
There was no need for ceremony, she merely needed a decent view.
Once high enough Swech looked to the north and east and nodded. Morwhen. The city was famed for its barbarism and the warriors it created. The first she heard of the people, they were to be the probable salvation against the Sa’ba Taalor, as they allegedly matched her people in savagery. For that reason the gods waited until most of the soldiers from Morwhen were on the move and heading for Canhoon before Paedle told her it was time.
She merely looked and willed the change and it happened.
Swech was the conduit for her god’s power. She was not a sorcerer and had no desire to be one, but she was the focus of Paedle’s will in this world and so she let the god’s power flow through her and she felt the earth shift and the heat boil and reveled in Paedle’s glory as the god was reborn on the site of Morwhen.
A war raged but still the lake and the city and the area rocked with the ferocity of the eruption. The recently unfrozen waters rippled and danced and waves slashed the relative calm.
Even before the water shifted the sky grew bright. Six gods had taken new places. The last would come soon.
Her mission accomplished, Swech sighed and prepared herself for her next task. The palace had to fall. The armies of the Sa’ba Taalor fought against the Silent Army.
All save those who were already past the Mid Wall and even the First Wall.
People like her.
They moved, silent and hardly worth noticing in the madness of the moment.
The ice was gone.
Callan stared at the waters and the black ships that faltered and foundered around him. They had no crews. The whole lot of gray-skins had run off to join the fight.
The smaller boat he’d ridden to the lake was still in fine shape, but there was no crew left.
The fogs had not dispersed when the water melted. They had thinned, but not vanished, and he looked to the shore and saw the vast army of the Sa’ba Taalor and shook his head.
“There’s nothing I can do here.” He looked for Daivem. “I suppose I’ll go with you.”
But the woman was gone, as were the others from Louron.
With no other choices that he could think of, Callan took down one of the smaller boats for reaching the shore and lowered it into the waters. He was well past the last of the foundering black ships when the rest of the Sa’ba Taalor fleet rode up the river.
There was no thought of going to Canhoon until that moment. The abandoned vessels were between him and the black ships and he was fine with that notion. He might have gone for the side of the river but more of the Sa’ba Taalor were there. Likely the ships would gather them for the next wave to attack the city.
In the meantime, he had to go somewhere and the city seemed his best bet.
Give or take the invading forces.
“I suppose we’ll have to see about going around them.” He said the words as if he could convince himself to avoid the fight.
He knew in his heart that wasn’t going to be possible. There were too many of them and only so much land around Canhoon to step on.
He needn’t have worried. Even as he considered the notion of how best to avoid being trampled under the gray-skins, they managed to breach the closest gate in the Mid Wall and started pushing inward.
Tuskandru did not break down the doors to the great gate. That was entirely Brodem’s doing.
Tusk had been trying to reach that damnable door for a long while and his muscles burned and he stank of blood and sweat. It was a lovely thing to finally have a full battle against worthy opponents.
The stone men did not die easily but they did die. He had that in common with them. Not the dying part, but the hard to kill part. His lip was split and two teeth had been knocked from his mouth. There were a dozen cuts across his flesh and some of them were deep. He would worry about them later, after the enemy had fallen.
He was still considering that fact when Brodem managed to get over the wall.
The Silent Army was very busy trying to stop the Sa’ba Taalor. The mounts were busy too, trying to find a place to get out of the water. Brodem took advantage of the situation and pounced on one of the stone soldiers. He knocked the stone man down at the same time as he got enough momentum to climb the wall.
There were spears in the way, and shields. He took the path of fewer points and knocked a shield aside. Once at the top, flesh and blood soldiers – who did the sensible thing and died when Brodem slashed and bit at them – replaced the Silent Army. Several spears came for him and most were knocked aside by the heavy leather armor the mount wore. A few cut deep and he roared his outrage at the wielders and knocked them aside as he charged for the stairs and the level ground.
Other mounts tried to conquer the wall and most failed, though a few scrambled to the top. More spearmen and archers waited for them. Brodem left them to their own devices.
The great gates were closed, as one would expect. They had been barred for a while and no one tended to them. There was no need, as no fool in their right mind would consider opening the doors while the city was in the air.
A lack of opposable thumbs can be a deterrent, but Brodem managed just the same. His muzzle knocked the heavy beam blocking the gates twice, three times and finally a fourth before the barricade was shoved aside. After that the pressure of bodies fighting against the wall took care of the rest. Sa’ba Taalor and Silent Army alike spilled into the city proper and flooded into the area like water.
Stone soldiers held no interest for Brodem. They did not bleed. So he went up the stairs again to kill as many of the pink skins as he could.
Tusk appreciated the assist and took advantage of the opened door. The Silent Army tried to fight on and Tusk did the same. All around him the stone warriors pressed against the Sa’ba Taalor, cutting and beating at flesh. The followers of the Daxar Taalor defended themselves and conspired to destroy the stone warriors.
Stone is stronger than flesh, it is true, but the Sa’ba Taalor carried weapons and were not afraid to take injuries even as they wore through the Silent Army’s defenses.
Canhoon was breached, and the Sa’ba Taalor roared the names of their gods as they charged into the city that had escaped their fury before.
Desh ran toward the room where Cullen resided. He felt her pain, her confusion and knew he had to get there before it was too late.
Opening the door was easy enough. The young woman was kneeling on the ground, groaning and sweating in a feverish daze.
“One left. Only one. Have to stop it.”
“Stop what, child?” Desh moved to her, trying to come to her aid, but she pushed him aside and shook her head.
“The gods move, Desh Krohan.” The voice spoke in the old tongue, a language that had not been lost so much as it had changed. The Sa’ba Taalor still spoke it, but this form was archaic. The words were just different enough to make Desh’s mind and heart ache to hear the tongue again. It was Cullen’s mouth that spoke them. It was Moale Deneshi, once his lover, who uttered them.
She said, “The gods move and there is only one more location to allow them to cover this land. They will own everything unless we stop them.”
“How? How do we stop them?”
“How does one ever stop a god, Desh? With sacrifices.”
He didn’t have to ask what that meant. She had come back from the dead but had no intention of staying. The power inside of her was that of the Mother-Vine and it existed for one reason only.
The Mother-Vine intended to live again
. The question was where it would reside.
“Where does the last mountain rise? Do you know?”
Cullen shook her head. “No, but we must stop it. We must!” She writhed, her body shaking with effort, glistening with sweat.
The Sa’ba Taalor had breached the Mid Wall and would soon be trying for the First Wall of the city. The Imperial Army was gathered and would do their best to repel the enemy, but who could say with certainty if they would succeed? The Silent Army was being crushed, pushed back by sheer numbers, but he had to guess a great number of the enemy were falling in the process. It made no difference to the Sa’ba Taalor. They were fanatical in their actions. They would not stop unless their gods decreed it and their gods would not, not unless a champion was chosen to fight against the abomination that used to be Andover Lashk.
Even then, they would move the last of the mountains. The Daxar Taalor had their plans and Desh had no doubt that claiming Fellein was among them. Even if their champion lost, he knew the last mountain would go in place.
“We have to find out where. That’s all there is to it. I have to visit with the Sooth.”
No part of him wanted that. The last time he’d been drained and nearly crushed by the energies needed.
“Too late for that, I think. I can feel the shift in the world around us. I just can’t find the spot where this will end.”
Desh scowled. He was not a man who ever liked not getting his way.
Unfortunately, it seemed that gods had more pull than even the greatest sorcerers.
“Tega!” he yelled her name out loud and in his mind as well. Perhaps there was a way around the problem. Perhaps the power she had acquired would allow her greater access than others could manage.
She came to him, trailing Nolan March, who was smiling and giggling softly.
“Tega, my dear, there is one more volcano to rise in Fellein. All signs point to it. Is there any way you can discern where it might rise? I would call on the Sooth, but I’ve been told there’s no time.”
Tega shook her head. “But maybe one of the Sa’ba Taalor could tell us?”
“Well, yes, that’s possible, but who?”
“I have called to Drask Silver Hand. He is coming.”
“No. I am here.” Drask spoke from the entrance to the chamber, where he stood with his arms at his sides and his head tilted slightly to the side, a sign of curiosity among his people. Desh looked the man over again, and was unsettled. He was really very large, but that wasn’t what made Desh uncomfortable. It was that, despite his size, Drask managed to move so quietly. Too many of the enemy were like him and moved without making a sound.
Drask looked at him with silvery eyes and no discernible expression on his face. “What is it you want to know, Desh Krohan?”
“Where the last of the volcanoes will show itself.”
“Truska-Pren has not shared that knowledge.” He looked at Cullen on the ground, his eyes moving over her shape. “He, perhaps, is finding the place of best strategic value.”
Desh nodded. “Can you guess?”
“I have not seen your maps of late, but if I could, yes.”
“Then we should go to them.”
“Advise your guards not to attack me again and I will keep my peace.”
“And where is Andover?”
“He is nearby. He will come if I call to him.”
Tega shook her head even as she reached down to help Cullen to her feet. “We need to find the maps and worry about Andover later.”
“There might not be a later if we aren’t quick about this.” Desh moved to Cullen’s other side and Drask sighed. He moved quickly, sliding past Desh on the side and lifting the girl in his arms.
“Now we can move faster.”
Desh nodded and bit his tongue before he could make a foolish comment. Ego clashes over women had no place in the moment, even though a part of him wanted to protect the spirit that had once been his life mate.
He led the way and had the group of them back in the throne room in short order. The guards eyed Drask with suspicion, but the presence of the First Advisor meant they didn’t do anything foolish.
Nachia was not on her throne. Instead she was looking at the maps spread across her table and making small marks on the actual map of Canhoon. Most of the marks were made with ashes from the fireplace. They could be wiped away if need arose.
She looked up as they entered and tensed for a moment. Upon seeing Desh, the tension faded.
“Is she well?”
“No, she is not,” Cullen answered for herself. “She is boiling in her own blood. The thing inside her wants out.” Even as she spoke she wriggled impatiently until Drask set her down.
Her legs barely seemed to hold her weight, but she managed to get to the closest chair and settle herself.
Drask nodded to the Empress and made a formal bow before he moved to the table and the largest map of Fellein. He did not ask to examine the piece but rather moved it around until he could look at it properly.
Nachia looked to Desh with a questioning expression. He spoke clearly and concisely. “Drask is trying to calculate where the last volcano might rise. There is only the one, you see, and Cullen and the Mother-Vine are sure it will settle itself soon.”
“There’s another?”
Drask looked at the small cup of ashes that Nachia used to mark her map and plunged one thick finger into the mess. He looked at where marks had already been made for most of the volcanoes and smudged similar marks for the ones that had not yet been placed. Far to the south at the edge of the river, on the western side, firmly between Louron and the rest of the area. Then to the northeast, where Morwhen had been.
“The placement is not an accident. The Daxar Taalor mark the land where it will offer them the best possible strategic value.” He pointed. “Each of the gods has a reason and a place they want. The Guntha Isles were claimed by Wheklam because they were the best place to change the winds along the entire western coastline of Fellein. From there the trade winds can send ashes and worse along the waters. They already have. Roathes is no more because of that placement. Louron will fall when Donaie Swarl wills it.”
His finger pointed to where Tyrne had been. “Tuskandru and Durhallem chose to show a display of power here. The city was destroyed and Durhallem rose.”
“Tuskandru did not place that mountain.” Nachia frowned. “It was your King in Iron.”
Drask’s eyes locked with hers. He spoke very clearly. “No. That was a display of superiority over you. A show of power. You saw what he wanted. Tarag Paedori wanted you to see his command, but the King in Obsidian is the ruler for Durhallem and could be the only one to move the mountain.”
Desh stared at Drask and nodded.
Drask continued, “Paedle has taken your Morwhen. I do not know why.” He stabbed at where Elda used to stand. “Like Elda, both places were large cities and they are placed well enough to allow the surrounding of Fellein. From these places the followers of the gods, the Sa’ba Taalor, would be able to cover large areas. That might be enough.”
Desh spoke up. “Morwhen was known for the formidable soldiers they trained. The same is true of Elda. A very large portion of the military to the east was trained in those areas.”
Drask nodded his head. “As with Wheklam, the gods could force their hearts to spew fire and ash in these places and cover much of Fellein.”
Another jab of his finger. “N’Heelis and Wrommish have claimed your north. The heart of Wrommish now beats along your mountains, and from there the volcano’s fury can be unleashed along either side of the mountain range, all the way to the southern seas with little effort.”
“What do you mean?” Nachia looked hard at the map.
Desh answered. “Heat from the volcano could run along the edge of the mountains and change the way storms grow, or funnel fire and Plague Winds through the whole area.”
Drask nodded. “It is a good position strategically. There is no one up there, or at l
east few according to your map, but the coldest winters could be made milder or worse with Wrommish’s desires.”
Nachia crossed her arms and looked at the map. There were a lot of large Drask-finger smudges on it. “So where the will the last volcano show itself?”
“There are many possibilities.” Drask leaned over the map. “The Daxar Taalor have moved their hearts. They do not follow the same pattern that existed in the valley. Now they are spread far and wide and the center of this place is empty.” Drask almost reached for the ashes again and then stopped himself.
“If they wish to control all of Fellein, they must cover the northwest. That would mean placing the last heart in ruined Trecharch.”
“I can’t imagine them wasting their time, really.” Nachia shook her head.
Drask shook his in return. “You are thinking of immediate effect. Gods have centuries. The Wellish Steppes and Trecharch are not currently held by the Daxar Taalor. They have been claimed by the Sa’ba Taalor and that is not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. The faithful are not the same as the godly. To own the land completely they would have to place a volcano in any part of that area. It might be Trecharch, it might be over the Wellish. Those areas are currently vulnerable.”
“So, there?”
“A strong possibility. However, Truska-Pren is also the god of armed combat and armies. In times of war, his king rules over all others. For that reason he might prefer a central location.” His finger tapped the map directly over Lake Gerhaim, where the City of Wonders now rested.
“My people have been directed here. They were told to face you at this time and this place.” Drask studied the map carefully for several seconds without speaking. No one interrupted. It was obvious he was thinking hard. “It is possible that this was predestined.”
“What do you mean, Drask?” It was Tega who asked this time.
“First let me finish with the previous question. Truska-Pren, being the center of a war situation, could well decide to claim Gerhaim. That would mean taking this spot or the city of Goltha, or even pushing into the center of the lake. It might mean being north or south of here, or even just blocking off the river from the west, sealing the rest of the mountain range.”
The Seven Forges Novels Page 122
