by Pedro Urvi
“Therefore we can be sure of two things,” Althor said. “On the one hand, if we don’t help Rogdon it will almost certainly fall. On the other hand, if we help them there’s no guarantee that we’ll triumph, they might equally be defeated. Is that so, my old friend?”
“It is. Although let me state that the first option is nearly a certainty and the second is really the toss of a coin.”
“Toss of a coin?” Gudin said. “Aren’t you crediting us with far more value than we really have? I don’t see how our participation can balance out the fight. The invading armies are still more numerous and powerful than any that an alliance between the Norriel and the Kingdom of Rogdon might recruit.”
“Using cold reason, adding up figures? You’re right. I won’t argue the case with you. You’ve lived through skirmishes, battles and wars, and you’re absolutely right. All the same, there are more powerful forces at work than simple numbers: forces we can’t see but which are acting both for and against our interests. Hidden powers, which could unleash events that might bring to an end even empires. My Gift helps me to perceive them. And in this case, let me assure you, Master Warrior, the threads of destiny allow me to weigh up the great impact we, the tiny Norriel, will have in the outcome of this war which threatens half the continent. In one way or another.”
“I wasn’t expecting such uncompromising and determined answers, Amtoko. You lay a great weight on our people’s shoulders,” Auburu said in annoyance. She was looking more and more worried.
“You came for my advice, and that’s what you get. I can only put forward to you what my power allows me to perceive. It’s never the whole view, but it’s not often wrong. Without the Norriel, Rogdon is practically lost. With our intervention they might be saved, although there are no guarantees. Many and powerful are the forces influencing the threads of destiny, and the results of their acts aren’t yet visible to me.”
“In that case, if we don’t have guarantees, why risk the lives of our people?” Auburu asked.
“I feel the same,” Gudin said. “This war among the three great kingdoms doesn’t concern us, so why take part? They won’t come here, to the highlands, they’re not that interested in us, and they know we’d defend these lands to the death, to the last man. The Noceans won’t come, I’m sure of that, there are no riches here, they don’t like the climate, the land doesn’t suit them. Perhaps the Norghanians would, but it would mean too high a cost for too little plunder. I doubt whether they’d bother. Here in the highlands, with all the Norriel tribes united, we can hold out. We’ve done it before. They won’t be able to defeat us in the mountains and rocky passes, even though we’re fewer in number.”
“I don’t think supporting Rogdon is a good alternative,” Althor concluded. “We can hold out here and let the three great empires fight and destroy each other. As long as war doesn’t reach us here…”
Auburu stood up and walked across the soft grass, looking up at the sky, weighing up the possibilities, risks and benefits for her beloved people. With a frown and a faraway look, she pondered. Amtoko watched her in silence. A lot depended on the decision of this woman. Kingdoms might fall or survive according to what she decided there today. Amtoko had seen her with her power, she was very aware of how critical that moment was, how critical the final decision of that sensible young woman. Thousands of lives were at stake, the fate of a whole continent. Everything weighed on the slender shoulders of the wise leader of the Bikia. She did not know, nor would she ever understand the importance of her decision. How could she? Even if Amtoko tried to explain it to her, it would be impossible for the young Matriarch to take in. The weight of the decision would be so overwhelming it would drown her. No, Auburu had enough to think about as it was. She would not burden her by loading the fate of the wretched peoples of half the continent on her shoulders.
“I must make a decision,” Auburu said. “The thirty tribes gather in three days under the great centenary oak to decide on King Solin’s proposal. We’re not obliged to accept, our peace treaty is only that, a peace treaty not an alliance. On the other hand, I don’t know what the leaders of the other tribes will have to say, but I must go to the meeting with a firm, binding decision for the Bikia.”
“Your decision will be one of the most important, my child,” the Witch said. “It will swing the result of the vote, and the Norriel will respond as one.”
“If you know that, if you’ve been able to see it with your magic, then you already know my decision,” said the young leader.
“How could I? The decision hasn’t even formed in your mind yet,” the Witch said with a mischievous grin. “My power allows me to see the immediate now and the invisible threads of events close at hand: not the future, unfortunately. I don’t know what your decision will be…”
“Help me, Amtoko, I need to make the right decision. There’s too much at stake, not only the end of Rogdon and the war on the continent, but also the lives of our men and women, of our people! I beg you, help me.”
“All right, little one, if you want my help I’ll help you, but the final decision is yours. This old Witch is here to serve her people, the Norriel. I’ve witnessed the fight which is under way. Far away, to the south, the city of Silanda is in serious trouble, I very much doubt if it can be saved, even with the intervention of Mirkos the Erudite, that most powerful Rogdonian Mage. The Nocean Sorcerers and their Blood and Curse Magic will end up victorious.
“At the other end of the Kingdom, in the Fortress of the Half Moon, Prince Gerart is fighting desperately to contain the Norghanians. He’s doing it well, but the threads of destiny have a freezing, treacherous surprise in store for him. He’ll be defeated too, almost certainly, although there’s some movement I can’t make out which might change the result of the siege and sway it to his side.”
“So they’ll fall, just as we’re expecting,” Auburu said.
“Very probably.”
“In that case they’ll reach Rilentor first and King Solin. Once the city falls and Rogdon is theirs they’ll look towards our lands, the highlands. What do you advise me to do, then? Nothing? Simply fall back and wait for the invaders?”
“On the contrary, my dear child, on the contrary, my advice is that you fight against the invaders.”
“Why, Amtoko? Do they pose such a threat? We don’t know for sure that they’ll come to our lands.”
“It’s not only them I’m worried about, my child…”
“What do you mean? If not them, who else should we be worrying about?”
“The shadow which is moving the pieces of this game from the darkness, hiding its form and its intentions, but present in each vital event in the development of this confrontation.”
“A fourth kingdom? Which? Who?”
“That, my dear friend, is a very good question, in fact that really is the question. Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer.”
“But do you know of anybody else who might be manipulating the conflict?” Althor asked. He stood up in surprise, glaring at the Witch with narrowed eyes.
“I can’t see it, it’s hidden, far away, and I can’t reach that far, but certainly there is someone. For some time now I’ve been sensing events, movements of the threads of destiny which spin around our people, the Norriel. A great spider’s-web is being woven around us, ever darker, thicker and more ill-omened. I see this more and more clearly: a great evil of dimensions we’ve never known before is approaching our people. Three nights ago I carried out an ancient ritual to obtain greater clairvoyance of our destiny, to heighten my powers and thus grasp more clearly what’s about to happen. Death, pain and chaos are approaching with giant strides and a dense fog of horror is forming, one which sooner or later will reach us, bringing unimaginable suffering with it…”
Gudin grasped the pommels of his two short swords and glanced at his leader Auburu, then at Amtoko. He frowned.
“War always brings pain and suffering. Men die, women and children suffer, old people perish.
Such is the essence and evil of war. That is why we can’t throw ourselves into one without being absolutely sure.”
Althor took two steps toward the cave and turned round,
“This dark evil that’s coming, it’s not part of the current war, is it? It’s something else.”
“Oh, you’re always so perceptive, my dear friend, that’s how you’ve lived so long,” said the Witch, smiling at him. “Exactly. This evil, this holocaust that’s on its way, is not a direct product of this war but arises from it after the event. This war is only the prelude to a colossal evil which is yet to come, such an evil that the whole continent will sink amid the most ghastly suffering.”
In the face of these words of condemnation and slaughter the three visitors remained silent, deep in thought. It saddened Amtoko to be the bearer of such ill-omened news, but she had to make sure they understood the horror which was about to emerge and which would inexorably reach the Norriel. The threads of destiny made this plain.
Auburu, hands clasped behind her back and with an air of gravity asked:
“Are you absolutely sure, dear Witch? Couldn’t you have read the auguries wrong?”
“Unfortunately I’m sure, child.”
“Couldn’t you be confusing this war with something else? Isn’t this war bloody and destructive enough already?” Gudin asked, distraught at this bad news.
“No, I’m not mistaken. The threads linked to this war that I see and which concern the Norriel are few and very clear. The stench of evil doesn’t come from here.”
“If that’s so, then how can you perceive it, old friend?” Althor said, gesturing vigorously. “I thought you could only sense what’s connected to our own people…”
“Because all this evil is intrinsically connected to a Norriel. And because it’s connected to one of our people, I can perceive it.”
Auburu lifted her head, roused from her introspective trance. “And which of our own people is all this bottomless evil connected with?”
“With Komir…”
They all looked at the Silver Witch in surprise. This had caught them completely unprepared, Amtoko could see. She studied their faces: Auburu’s showed deep worry, Althor’s genuine intrigue and Gudin’s restlessness. Amtoko found the different reactions of the three Norriel to the same news interesting.
“We have no news of Komir since he left the village,” Auburu said.
“That’s not entirely true. I’ve been following him from a distance, helping him when I could. He’s in Ocorum, following his destiny, coming inexorably closer to this evil which is beginning to surround him with the intention of swallowing him up.”
“What has he got to do with this evil?” Gudin asked. “I know the boy, and I doubt very much there’s any evil in him, no matter what the gossips of the village might have wanted us to believe.”
“Exactly, Master Warrior. There’s no evil in him, but there’s caprice in the turning of the wheel of fate, and he’s been chosen to play a role of great significance. Every day I see more clearly that his role is of capital importance for our survival and even, I believe, for the salvation of the whole continent.”
“A massive burden for such a young, tormented Norriel,” Althor said.
They were silent for a while, deep in thought, until Auburu broke that silence:
“We must fight, isn’t that so?” she asked, looking at Amtoko with eyes filled with resignation.
“I’m truly sorry, Auburu, I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I can’t. If we hide here in the highlands it may be that the Noceans and the Norghanians won’t reach us, but this darkness, this evil, will find us and reach us. Our people will suffer unbelievably. The highlands will be dyed with the blood of our men, women and children.”
“Will we be able to stop this evil, this devastating darkness you’re talking about?” Gudin asked.
“All we can do is try, with all our might,” Amtoko replied.
Auburu turned to look at the sun, letting it bathe her body, as if savoring the few moments of peace they had left. She sighed deeply, raised her arms to the sun and said:
“I don’t know whether I’ll support an alliance with Rogdon or not. I’ll think about it. I must make this decision alone. Once I decide, one way or the other, I’ll let the rest of the tribes know. I pray the three goddesses may illuminate my judgment at this crucial moment. Whichever the case, whether we go to war or war comes to our lands, we’ll fight to defend what’s ours, we’ll defend ourselves against evil. The Norriel will never kneel before any invader. We’ll fight to the last drop of blood. Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die!” she cried.
The other four, infected by their Leader’s spirit, chanted in unison:
“Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die!”
To the last man
For eight endless, exhausting, terrifying weeks the siege brought death and destruction by land and air to the Rogdonian defenders. Days of incessant bombardment of the walls by the terrifying siege machines alternated with bloody assaults on them by the red and white tides of fevered Norghanians.
The defenders were stubbornly holding a fortress which with every passing day seemed more surely doomed. The dwindling strength of the demoralized men of Rogdon would not bear the punishment much longer. The outer wall, severely damaged by the siege weapons, might fall into enemy hands at any moment; the number of defenders had fallen too drastically to let them hold that entire length.
Gerart was crouching on top of the wall beside one of the ruined towers. A colossal rock from one of the catapults impacted on the already worn battlements and destroyed a piece of the wall with a thunderous explosion of rock and stone. The Prince assessed the state of the wall and battlements. It seemed a miracle that they had not collapsed completely. He could not understand how the wall could resist the impact of the enormous rocks the catapults showered on it. There were practically no battlements left to speak of. In their place were holes in the walls and an uneven surface left by the impacts.
In the midst of that destruction his thoughts flew high, soaring into the sky in search of the beautiful face of the blue-eyed Healer. How he missed her! Would she still be alive? She must be, yes, she had to be; the idea of losing her, the mere possibility of it, was unbearable. Gerart prayed to the Light every day that he would see her alive again. She was present in his heart at all times, and he lived for the day when he could hold her, kiss her with such passion that she would not doubt his feelings for her. He still felt guilty for having left her, for not having run after her when the river swept her away. He would not make the same mistake again, no matter what was at stake. He just knew he had to have her near him, to hear her voice and feel her touch. All he wished for was to be with Aliana, to lose himself in her arms.
A familiar voice woke him from his reverie.
“What’s the day like?” Lomar greeted him. He crouched beside the Prince in the shelter of the ruined tower.
“It looks as though they’re going to use the siege weapons today.”
With a threatening whistle, a long missile flew over their heads towards the barracks in the inner courtyard, which were already totally ruined.
“Ballista,” Lomar confirmed.
“Yes, now they’re throwing us pine trees, the biggest they can find.”
“Faster and easier than hacking rock out of the walls of the pass.”
“And just as effective. Those wooden missiles go through men and buildings as if they were butter.”
Count Longor joined them with his perpetual smile and good humor. “Soon they’ll be throwing cows and pigs,” he said
“That would be good, we’re running out of provisions,” said Counselor Urien, who had arrived with the Count and was watching from the stairs.
When he saw the old Royal Counselor so close to the dangerous front, Gerart tensed.
“Urien, go back to the Great Tower. I don’t want you running any risks.”
Another enormous rock crashed against
the deserted inner square behind the gate.
“I’m not in any danger, your Highness. These Norghanians are so clumsy they wouldn’t hit the sun from ten paces away.”
Gerart smiled wanly at the reply.
“Even so, I need you alive. Go back to the Great Tower right now and deal with the logistics, which is what we need now.”
“What we need more urgently are supplies and reinforcements,” the Counselor said.
“It seems they’re going to punish us from the air again today,” said Lomar.
“That type of punishment is very disheartening,” Urien commented. “The men are losing their spirit as the days go by. They don’t see how they can stop the Norghanians, they’re fighting with almost total desperation.”
“The King’s order is to hold fast, and that’s what we’re going to do,” the Prince said with such determination on his serious face he left no room for doubt. “This fortress will not fall, we’ll defend it to the last man!”
He would die before he failed his father.
“There won’t be any reinforcements?” ventured Longor.
“I very much fear not,” said Urien. “King Solin has been sending us the few available men left and the militia he’s been recruiting throughout the villages and cities of the Kingdom. Unfortunately Silanda is in deep trouble, the same as we are, or even worse, I fear. The King has been forced to divide the reinforcements, which is a desperate strategy and in my humble opinion won’t lead us to victory.”
“The situation is serious, desperate even, if Silanda is in such a delicate position,” Gerart reflected.
“The reports I’ve received from the capital confirm it,” Urien explained. “They’ve abandoned the outer wall and left it to the enemy. They’ve been forced to fall back to the second wall, the one which protects the Duke’s Palace. I don’t think they’ll be able to hold out, even with the intervention of Mirkos the Erudite.”
