The main bridge was worn and weathered, with short and fat chunks of wood that would do little for making pikes. With the hammer in hand, Straiah struck the near end, splintering its support and sending it into the river. But it remained a single unit and quickly lodged against the riverbank.
Striking it in a few key places, he was able to send the larger pieces floating down the stream, now flotsam for the crisp waters of Boreol Bay, erelong washing ashore on some forgotten beach. Straiah smiled as he imagined some small boy in the lands of Kester coming upon a spar of wood half sunk in the sand, and all the places his imagination would take him.
Straiah wandered south toward the other bridge. It was smaller, clearly for foot traffic, and would shatter easily under the might of the hammer. It connected what the Suriyans had called Market Town. Leaving it undamaged, he returned to the center of town. Day was already descending into evening. If the scout was right, the barbarians would be here soon. But would Malfur be among them? That was the real question.
Straiah arrived to find King Froamb among the villagers, he too examining the pikes piled in front of him. Seeing Straiah, he dropped the spear and addressed him.
“What is the state of our fortifications?”
“Everything that can be done has been done. The main bridge connecting the East and West Ends has been destroyed. The smaller will remain until we can evacuate anyone not able to fight.”
“As you know,” King Froamb addressed the crowd in a loud voice. “The barbarians will be here in short order. They think they can overrun us with a mere few hundred men. We will show them they are wrong. All who cannot fight will leave the city. Those who cannot fit aboard the ships will make across the river until the battle is over. The rest will stay and fight. The Horctura will soon learn that the price of Suriya is dear.”
A shout went up from all gathered. Just then, Straiah had an idea.
“Have the barbarians sent any scouts on horseback?” Straiah asked the king.
“No. They're more concerned with drawing a broad net around us to keep any from escaping.”
Straiah thought quickly. The people were beginning to disperse. It would be night soon, and the barbarians wouldn't be able to see much.
“Anyone going to the East End,” Straiah called out. “Enter whatever home you find and get a fire going in the hearth. Light every lamp and make your presence clearly known. Do not fear. We will destroy the bridge behind you. The barbarians won't reach you.”
The villagers weren't sure exactly what to make of the order. But King Froamb was nodding eagerly. If the barbarians didn't have a fix on their exact position, they could use what few archers they had to fire into the barbarian line while they searched about in darkness.
“Do as Straiah commands!”
It was only an hour till nightfall. If they could make it till them before the barbarians got here, they just might stand a chance. Straiah knew he was set now. There was no chance of escape before the battle. His fate was now tied to Suriya.
The End of the Road
Whinden was standing, eyes blazing and finger pointing at Pallin.
“Commander,” Whinden called out. Gwaren stood to attention. “You will take these men into custody to await the decision of the council.”
Gwaren bowed and came to where Pallin and the others were seated. Pallin and Sheabor stood to their feet slowly, their hands raised.
“I am truly sorry,” said Pallin. “I had no idea Malfur would go to such lengths to capture us.”
“Malfur?” Whinden said in great surprise. “Keeper of the North Wind?”
Pallin nodded.
“He was once my brother. But now, he has sided with Corcoran and chosen a will of evil.”
“Your brother? Who are you?”
“I am Pallin, Keeper of the South Wind.
There were murmurs among the crowd, Gwaren making his way to Pallin and Sheabor.
“Please surrender your weapons and armor,” Gwaren said.
Sheabor and Pallin both unsheathed their mystical weapons and handed them to Gwaren.
“Don't bring them far,” Sheabor said. “We'll need them soon.”
Gwaren extended his hand. As long as they came peacefully, it didn't seem as though the commander meant to bind and arrest them. As the group departed, an eruption of voices ensued, many of the townspeople leaving the park for their homes.
Durian still couldn't believe it. Thousands of barbarians and Dungeon Core on their way to Ogrindal? Was Malfur trying to conquer the whole continent single-handedly?
The group was brought to a building not far from the council chamber they had just occupied. Inside were many cells, all empty and waiting for them. They were swiftly imprisoned and guards posted outside.
“Pallin, this isn't good,” said Sheabor.
“No, it is not.”
“Does Malfur know of the existence of Ogrindal?”
“Doubtful,” replied Pallin. “But with thousands of warriors at his command, they will scour the forest until they find us.”
“And when they find us, you know as well as I what decision Ogrindal will come to.”
Pallin sighed and nodded slowly.
“What decision?” Baron asked.
“Rather than face the wrath of the barbarian horde,” Sheabor began. “They will hand over Pallin and myself to Malfur.”
“What! They can't do that.”
“I don't begrudge them,” Sheabor continued. “They've been apart from the rest of the world for a millennia. Now, without warning, they're asked to risk their lives to save it.”
“It may turn out for the best,” Pallin said. “I don't know what kind of alliance Malfur has with Corcoran, but with the success he's having in laying siege to this realm, he may grow resentful in the day Corcoran comes to claim what he has already conquered.”
“You think Malfur may turn on Corcoran?” Durian asked.
“I don't know,” Pallin replied. “But he is a Keeper of the Wind, after all.”
The group talked on, speculating of things to come. But after nearly an hour, the door opened to reveal Gwaren.
“What news?” asked Sheabor.
“Much talk but few decisions,” Gwaren replied. “There's talk of turning the five of you over to Malfur's forces when they arrive. We'll do better if we use stealth to fight them from the trees. But if we kill a portion of them, the rest will be thirsty for blood and vengeance.
The simple fact is they are too many to stop. Do we attack them from a long way off, hoping to kill enough to give us the advantage? Or do we wait and offer the five of you up as a peace offering to Malfur?”
“I think you know what our vote is,” said Baron.
“I've also heard whispers of something even more troubling,” Gwaren continued. “Some are arguing that even if we give them what they want, it won't satisfy them for long. The barbarians aren't likely to let us live in peace once they learn the way to the city. That is why some are arguing that we use Pallin's knowledge to activate the Soul Stone and join our ancestors, the Wineckdin, in the forest.”
“What!” Baron exclaimed. “You can't!”
“It wouldn't work,” said Pallin. “We need one of Estrien's people to call the stone to life.”
Gwaren breathed in deeply and sighed.
“I do not think anything will come of it. Fear is motivating vain imaginings. But while we sit here discussing, the forces of Malfur fast approach the forest.”
“Gwaren, you know our only chance is to attack Malfur early – hit them from the cover of trees.”
“And I trust that that will be the decision of the council also.”
Gwaren bowed and turned to depart. The group was left alone again. Durian couldn't believe that some in the city actually wanted to live as spirits, tied to the deeps of Thay Iphilus Forest. But as they waited, Durian thought he heard something like the distant call to battle. Sheabor heard it too, for he went to the barred window and gazed outward.
“What is it?” Pallin asked.
“Malfur has reconstructed his war horn.”
“War horn?” asked Baron skeptically.
“A large horn made of brass, into which he funnels the wind, creating a blast that nothing can withstand. He'll carve out a pathway through Thay Iphilus Forest and nothing will stand in his way.”
His words hung in the air. Little more was said. The group sat against the bars of the prison, awaiting the decision of the council. A few times an hour, the blast of a distant trumped wafted in on the breeze. It was still a long way off.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Gwaren again arrived in their midst. He was visibly troubled and paced a time in front of their cells.
“Our scouts have reported in from the edge of the forest,” Gwaren said. “It seems that Malfur has taken away our only advantage. The Forest Guard can't get close enough to his siege weapon to make any difference. I've ordered their retreat back to the city.”
“What are you going to do?” Sheabor asked.
“The only thing we can. The council has reached a decision. We will march out to Malfur and his forces and surrender the five of you over to them.”
“How long do you think that will satisfy him? He's already begun carving a pathway to your city. Even if Malfur leaves you alone, the barbarians will surely be back. Now that they've conquered Forthura, who next do you think they'll turn their sights to?”
“That is a problem for another time – a time we may have years to prepare for.”
Sheabor opened his mouth to protest, but Pallin grabbed him by the arm.
“We cannot rightly ask an entire city to risk their lives on our behalf,” Pallin said.
Sheabor clenched his jaw but nodded. He had known from the beginning that this would be the ultimate decision of the council of Ogrindal. Gwaren produced a key with which he unlocked their cell. Once outside, one of the guards accompanied them at the rear.
Gwaren led the off toward the council chamber. Coming to the steps Durian could hear loud arguing, even from behind the closed doors. Gwaren hesitated, and set off to the north instead of going directly inside.
“Where are you taking them?” the guard in the rear questioned.
“The council members don't seem ready for our prisoners yet. I don't want to disturb them.”
When they had come well away from the council chamber and were near the empty corner of the town, Gwaren stopped and came to the guard.
“This should be far enough,” Gwaren said, and extended his hand for the guard to lead the way back in the other direction.
The guard set off, but immediately, Gwaren drew his sword and in one quick motion hit the guard on the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.
“Quickly,” Gwaren said, pulling the guard into the shadows of the nearby buildings. “I've hidden your weapons and armor nearby. We're very close to the pathway up the Ruhkan Mountains.”
Sheabor went with Gwaren into one of the buildings, returning with their weapons and suits of armor.
“I always knew the day would come when the outside world would come to threaten everything we've fought to preserve. We cannot run from our fate.”
Gwaren handed Pallin one of the chest-pieces from the tomb of Sheyla.
“Armor like this belongs on a true warrior,” Pallin replied. “It would be wasted on one such as me. Please keep it, with my sincere thanks for what you are doing.”
Gwaren seemed taken aback at the gesture.
“Follow me,” said Gwaren. “We don't have much time.”
Gwaren set off at a swift pace toward the northwest corner of town. In minutes, they arrived at the sheer face of the Ruhkan Mountains. The pathway looked more of a climb than a hike, but even so, it appeared navigable for the moment.
“I cannot guarantee the pass through the mountains is open. The snows may have already blocked it.”
Pallin gazed up the mountain wall for many long moments. Then, turning back to the group with a warm smile, prepared to make his departure. Sheabor, seeing his intent spoke first.
“What are you doing? We're all going with you.”
“You must stand and fight with the people of Ogrindal. I will go to the Banished Lands and the tomb of King Euthor.”
Sheabor was visibly troubled by the idea of Pallin traveling alone without protection.
“But how will you enter the tomb?” Sheabor questioned. “We don't have the hammer back yet from Straiah.”
“I'll use this,” Pallin declared and held up the mace with the Shade Stone head. “Though this certainly won't break the orb with our powers, it should be enough to smash our way into his tomb.”
Sheabor nodded slowly, still seemingly unconvinced. Though none of them wanted to leave Ogrindal to its fate, finding the orb with Pallin's powers was the most important mission.
“This may be our only opportunity to stop Malfur,” Pallin continued. “He has spread himself thin to seek our capture – too thin perhaps.”
Pallin placed both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
“You are a brave and noble warrior. Men like you give me hope for this world.”
“Thank you,” Sheabor said with a low bow.
Then Pallin turned to the three Suriyans.
“You may accompany me if you wish,” he said. “Or you can stay and fight.”
Baron and Blair glanced to one another and Blair gave Baron a nod that signaled Baron to make the decision.
“Personally, I'm tired of running,” said Baron. “If we can stop the barbarians here, it might keep them from invading Suriya. Fighting for Ogrindal is like fighting for home.”
Pallin nodded with a smile. All seemed settled. But Durian's heart was still racing. He thought of his dreams and of his vow to one day reunite King Euthor with the woman he loved.
“I'll go with you,” Durian said.
Pallin looked at him in surprise and intrigue.
“The road will be long. Full of danger.”
“I'm ready for it,” Durian replied.
“Are you able to climb?” asked Sheabor.
Durian rotated his wrist a few times.
“I'll make it to the lands of Kester.”
It was settled them. Durian gave Baron and Blair a warm embrace, none knowing when they would see each other again. Then Pallin produced a glowing blue stone from the folds of his garments, the stone they had found in the tomb of Sheyla.
“Once in the lands of Kester, this stone will be our guide.”
It was time to depart. Durian grabbed the stone of the Ruhkan Mountain range and pulled himself upward. It was freezing to the touch but manageable. Pallin came after. The group watched for many minutes, but soon the pair had ascended into the mountain's interior places. Durian did his best not to look down.
Back in Ogrindal, Gwaren led the group to the nearby council chamber. They ascended the stairs and were stopped momentarily by the two guards outside the door who held their spears across the doorway.
“The council is in session. They haven't sent for anyone.”
“I have important tidings that will change the outcome of their decision,” Gwaren returned.
The two guards lifted their spears and opened the door for Gwaren. Upon seeing him, Whinden and the others stood to their feet. Whinden opened his mouth to ask why Gwaren would come, but something gave him pause. Instead, he seemed surprised to see Gwaren wearing one of the chest-pieces of armor brought by Sheabor and the others.
But his surprise heightened by Sheabor now standing beside Gwaren, once more armed with his Shade Stone axe and shield.
“Gwaren, what is this?”
“Pallin is gone,” Gwaren replied. “He is taking the pathway over the mountains.”
“What have you done!” Whinden yelled.
“What you could not. It is not the way of our people to live by fear. We must stand and fight.”
“You have condemned us all to death!”
“No,” Gwaren roare
d.
Baron turned to Blair with a smile.
“We will not die. We will stand. We will fight. And we will prevail!”
The Battle for Suriya
Night fell upon the plains as one by one, lights sprang to life in the windows of Suriya's East End. Straiah and the other soldiers watched in silence from the other side of the river behind the low wall they had built just in front of the northern row of cottages. Everything was set. Those fighting for Suriya were less than two hundred, many of them untrained in combat.
The barbarians were close – the distant whinnying of a horse, or faint glow of a torch heralding their coming. Straiah had a bow in hand, along with twenty others. He commanded the archers. The rest held swords or pikes and were under the command of their king.
Once the barbarians crested the final hill, they would see the gleaming lights of the East End across the river. They would have a choice – find a place to cross the river upstream, or enter the West End and use debris from town to make a crossing. Straiah could only hope the barbarian footmen would loathe the idea of wading through an icy river. The horsemen would be more likely, but they wouldn't want to separate from the main force.
Minutes passed, and with each one, the glow from the north grew faintly brighter. The barbarians were using torches, clearly more interested in capturing fleeing townspeople than fighting a strategic battle. It was surprising. This time it would cost them.
More minutes passed. And then, scattered along the horizon at first, small dots of light appeared across the hillsides. Straiah's heart beat quickly. If the barbarians were so concerned with capturing any who sought to flee, they might cross the river immediately to keep the East End from escaping north. The villagers on that side had been given a handful of pikes but only enough to defend against a small party of riders.
Straiah watched carefully for movements along the barbarian line. They had had enough time to see the lit cottages from the far side of Suriya. The dark forms of faster moving horsemen seemed to be patrolling without torches in front of the foot-soldiers.
The Banished Lands- The Complete Series Page 24
