by C. Greenwood
In the distance, the dark walls of the fortress of Endguard were silhouetted by the starry sky. Eydis wondered what those walls would look like this time tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Orrick
The heap of boulders was exactly where Orrick remembered it, located about a mile from the fortress. Under the faint glow of moonlight, there seemed nothing remarkable about the pile of rocks framed by low scrubby bushes. But this spot was more than met the eye. It had not been so long ago that Orrick, together with Arik, had crouched in this shadowy hiding place, the sole survivors of the newly fallen Endguard. Weak and wounded, with the victorious howls of their Lostland conquerors and the screams of their dying comrades still echoing in their ears, barbarian and dwarf had been lucky to escape on that day.
Now Orrick couldn’t fight the sense that they were fools to return.
Arik broke into his thoughts. “This is the spot all right. This is where we came out.”
The dwarf’s voice was empty of emotion. Was he remembering, as Orrick did, the ring of steel and the stench of death? The sinking certainty that no help was coming and all was lost?
Orrick wiped away the sweat accumulating on his brow and buried the flood of memories. This was not a time for fear but for action. The dwarf and the vampire woman, his sole companions on this mission, were watching him, waiting for the word. He still couldn’t understand how he had persuaded them to accompany him in this operation. Then again, Lord Branimir’s gold had done most of the persuading for him. Once Orrick had conceived this plan and convinced Branimir he could be trusted to carry it out, the lord had promised the three a share of the oracle’s treasure if they succeeded.
Orrick motioned to Arik, and together they put their shoulders to the largest boulder and rolled it aside. Where the rock had been was an opening in the ground, the mouth of a narrow tunnel disappearing into darkness. The space was shored up with timbers, fragile with years of weather and decay, and looking as if they might break at any moment and collapse the passage.
“What is this place?” asked Kalina, peering into the gloom. “A secret entrance?”
“More of an escape route,” Orrick answered. “When Arik and I were garrisoned at Endguard, there was a legend the soldiers used to tell of a long ago group of deserters. Forced by a harsh commander to serve beyond the years of their enlistment, they were mistrusted and kept under watch. Somehow they managed to steal supplies and dig a hidden tunnel that would let them out of the fortress. They escaped and crossed the border into the Lostlands, only to be slain by monstrous beasts. Or so the tale went.”
Arik cut in. “Most thought it only a story. But Orrick and me, we discovered the passage by accident. We never expected to use it.”
“Then the fortress fell,” said Orrick. “All defenders were killed, and there were none but we two and the enemy left standing. Weak and injured, Arik and I managed to slip away down the hidden tunnel. When we surfaced here, we split up and went our separate ways.”
“And now we return as three,” observed Kalina.
She knelt and thrust her staff through the mouth of the tunnel. Fortunately, Branimir’s men had returned their confiscated weapons to Orrick and his companions. The ends of the vampire woman’s staff flared to life in the passage below, driving away the shadows and revealing the tight-packed dirt walls and floor.
The last time Orrick and Arik had been in the tunnel, they had fled blindly, stumbling through inky blackness. This time at least they would see where they were going.
Kalina clambered through the entrance and dropped lightly to the floor below. Arik followed suit although it was a longer drop for him.
Orrick hesitated, casting a lingering look toward the fortress walls in the distance. It was a strange kind of madness to be returning to the site of his nightmares. He still only half understood what compelled him to do it. In the opposite direction of the fortress, he could just make out the lights of Branimir’s camp. Eydis was back there somewhere. He had seen her roaming about the camp but hadn’t had the opportunity to say good-bye to her before leaving. What would she think of his dangerous plan? Would she be pleased he was finally acting like the heroic fool she had urged him for so long to be?
Taking a last breath of the fresh night air, he lowered himself into the passage. It was cold and musty-smelling beneath the earth. Damp mold grew over the timber supports, and undisturbed cobwebs stretched between the narrow walls. The tunnel had the unmistakable air of a place long shut up. Orrick supposed that was reassuring. If the Lostland beasts now inhabiting the fortress had discovered the passage and kept it in regular use, this entire plan would be doomed to disaster. It could only be hoped the existence of the tunnel remained unknown.
Kalina, her staff held aloft to light the way, led them briskly onward. Orrick had to admire Arik’s friend for her lack of hesitation. But then the dark-haired female didn’t have the disturbing memories of this place that Orrick and Arik did.
At first the passage was quickly and easily traveled, the walls just open enough for Orrick’s broad shoulders and the ceiling high enough that no one had to stoop. But gradually, as they progressed farther, the surrounding earth began to close in. It became necessary for both Orrick and the vampire woman to hunch beneath the lowering roof of earth, timber, and rock. Even Arik, his already sturdy frame broadened by the leather armor he wore, had to turn sideways to fit between the narrowest spaces.
Orrick lost track of time as they delved deeper and deeper into the earth. It began to seem they had been traveling this way a long while. Too long perhaps for a plan that hinged so much on timing. What was happening above ground? Was the light of dawn graying the sky yet? Were Branimir’s soldiers preparing for battle? There was no way to know.
Just as Orrick began to lose patience, the passage widened slightly, even as the ceiling dropped lower than ever. Then he saw it ahead, a square stone block in the ceiling. The exit was crumbling around the edges, weak and covered in green moss. At least it would be easy to break through, if necessary. But he hoped he wouldn’t need to do that. It would be difficult to demolish stone without a great deal of noise.
When everyone had gathered beneath it, Orrick tried pushing the block upward.
His fears were confirmed when it refused to budge. Time must have settled the stone in its place.
“It’s stuck like a cork,” he told the others quietly.
Arik wanted to batter it to pieces, but Orrick reminded him stealth was required. While the two of them debated the best means of freeing the block, Kalina stepped forward and pointed one end of her staff at the stone’s edge. The ray of light emitted from the staff cut through the rock more cleanly and silently than a blade. The remaining edges were trimmed with equal ease.
Carefully Orrick and Arik took hold of the heavy square before it could collapse inward, lowered it gently, and set it in the floor of the tunnel. Only then could they poke their heads above ground and look around them.
Orrick’s first glimpse of their surroundings brought relief. It was still dark outside. Kalina wordlessly extinguished the light of her staff before it could draw unwanted attention. In the descending gloom, Orrick took in the walls encircling them. The spot where the tunnel let out was much as he remembered it.
They were in a small out-of-the-way recess used for storage. The nook was made up of four stone walls, a low ceiling, and a floor of more blocks identical to the square that had been the exit of their tunnel. Luckily, the crates and barrels stacked all around hadn’t been placed on top of that particular block, or Orrick and his friends might have found themselves more seriously trapped.
Nearby, a gaping doorway offered a view outside.
Orrick hoped his memories of what lay beyond that doorway would prove reliable. There should be an open yard ahead that they needed to somehow cross without attracting attention. This was why it had been necessary to bring only a small team that could move swiftly and stealthily. At the other side of the yard, they
would follow the outer wall, keeping within its shadow until they arrived at a set of winding stairs. Those would lead them up to a corridor and eventually to a gatehouse tower overlooking the main gates. The tower housed the mechanism for opening the gates.
“Is it time?” asked Kalina as the three continued to crouch in the mouth of the tunnel.
Orrick glanced at the sliver of sky he could see through the open doorway. It was just beginning to lighten on the horizon.
“Less than an hour until dawn,” he said. “If we delay any longer, we’ll lose the cover of darkness.”
No one pointed out what each must be silently thinking, that an even greater danger than delay would be to leave their hiding place too soon. The plan required their presence behind enemy walls go undetected until morning, when Branimir would lead his army charging across the plain toward Endguard. When his forces were close enough, the sound of their battle horns would be the signal for Orrick, Arik, and Kalina to quickly dispatch whatever guard was in place around the mechanism and open the gates for Branimir’s army.
The longer Orrick and the others were inside Endguard, the greater their risk of early discovery. But because there was no knowing what kind of guard might have been set in the tower above the gate, they must be prepared for anything. That meant giving themselves time to work.
Orrick clambered out of the tunnel, signaling the others to follow. In the tight space of the storeroom, they readied their weapons and peered out into the night. On the walls high above, the outlines of enemy sentries could be seen, marching along the battlements. The yard spread empty before them, a long distance to cross without any cover, except the swiftly fading darkness.
Orrick waited until the sentries atop the walls were turned away. Then he took a deep breath and darted out into the open. Soundlessly as a shade, he raced across the enclosure, expecting at any moment to hear the alarm raised as some sharp-eyed sentry spotted him.
But there came no cry. He arrived out of breath, blood pounding in his ears, at the safety of the outer wall. Arik and Kalina came right behind him, and the three melted into the deep shadows of the wall.
Keeping an eye out for enemies, he led the others along the length of the wall until they arrived at the crooked staircase. The stair was enclosed, just as he recalled, and provided the party with brief protection from unfriendly eyes. Orrick tried not to imagine what would happen if they encountered anyone coming down the narrow steps as they ascended. There was no place to hide here. No room to quietly stand aside in the gloom until the danger passed. They would have to kill any they met, swiftly and silently.
But they encountered no one. The stairs exited into a corridor, which the team followed. At its end, they could see the tower room housing the mechanism for the gate. Orrick’s chief fear was finding the tower carefully guarded. It was a relief when he drew near enough to see through the open doorway ahead. The enemy must be overconfident in the strength of their walls, for there were only two guards in place. The only difficulty now was in approaching them without notice. The corridor leading to the tower was a long stretch, where Orrick and his companions would be in plain view if the guards glanced their way.
Orrick dropped to one knee, motioning his companions to do the same. He studied the tower ahead even though he already knew there wasn’t any alternative means of entering it. The walls were sheer, and it would be all but impossible to scale them from the outside and creep in one of the open windows. The direct entrance through this corridor was the only practical way.
Even as he hesitated, his eye caught a blur of motion through the doorway ahead. He glimpsed something pale and wispy in the moonlight filtering through the arched windows. Unobserved by the enemy guards, the white-draped figure flickered briefly behind them, like a candle flame. The light of the apparition winked out so suddenly Orrick was left staring. Had his eyes deceived him?
Neither of his companions appeared to notice anything unusual.
Orrick rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t afford a distraction right now, not even an imaginary one.
“Kalina, could the light from your staff hit one of those guards from here?” he asked lowly.
The vampire woman measured the distance with her eyes. “I can take the nearest one,” she answered. “But no matter how quickly I do it, there’ll be a flash of light sure to draw the attention of the other.”
“As long as it draws no one else’s,” Orrick said. He didn’t know whether he and Arik could rush the second guard before the man had a chance to sound an alarm. But they had to try. Dawn was fast approaching, and many lives were about to depend on their success.
The three crept as close as they dared, then Orrick and Arik made ready to run the last distance of the corridor, while Kalina leveled her dark staff on the nearest guard.
“Now!” Orrick ordered.
A flare of light shot like lightning out the tip of Kalina’s staff. The burst was so sudden it was over before Orrick’s eyes could adjust. Instantly a curtain of darkness dropped over the three again.
Through the open doorway, the near guard was struck by the bolt. For a second he glowed bright and then, without a sound, shattered into a million fragments.
Orrick and Arik didn’t wait for the first guard’s remains to rain down to the floor. As soon as the light left Kalina’s staff, they broke into a run, casting aside stealth in an effort to reach the second guard before he could shout.
But it was no use. Even while they closed in on him, Orrick could see they wouldn’t make it in time. The living guard’s eyes fixed in horror on what was left of his companion. His mouth opened to cry out for help.
A pale apparition suddenly flickered to life at the guard’s side. Half woman and half vapor, the ghost enveloped him like a mist. With a soft strangled sound, the guard struggled for a second and then went limp, dropping lifelessly to the floor.
Orrick and his friends barreled into the tower room even as the mist faded away. As abruptly as she had appeared, the White Lady was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Eydis
The first pale colors of dawn were just lighting the horizon when Eydis escaped the bustle of the busy camp and ducked into the oracle’s tent. Branimir had given the order, and his soldiers were preparing for battle even now. Eydis had been preparing as well until she was interrupted by a boy sent from Lord Branimir to ask where the oracle was. The seer was supposed to ride with the lord at the head of his army, but she had yet to make an appearance this morning.
Concern gripped Eydis as she entered the shadowed interior. The oracle should have been awake by now. Her words from the previous night were still fresh in Eydis’s mind. Hadn’t the seer warned that she grew weaker as Rathnakar drew nearer?
She could be seen now in the dim light from a single lamp on a low table. Despite the furnishings of her tent being as lavish as those of Branimir’s, the oracle had chosen to sleep on a simple pallet on the floor. She faced away from the tent entrance, and a light blanket was draped over her so that only the back of her bald head was visible.
Hovering over her, Eydis was relieved to see at least her shoulders moved as she drew breath. But she didn’t stir at Eydis’s gentle shaking. Calling her name received no response.
Frightened, Eydis drew the sleeping woman’s wrist from beneath the blanket and felt for a pulse. It was present but faint.
So it was true. Rathnakar’s power had again taken hold of the oracle, drawing her into a deathlike sleep. Only this time it was a rest she might not break free of. Eydis sat back and wracked her brain for answers. The situation was beyond anything she could cure with her magic. She couldn’t use her lifetouch on a being still living.
Should she call for a healer? Inform Branimir the oracle was ill?
But that wasn’t what the oracle would do. If she could speak, the seer would remind her there was more at stake in this moment than her own survival. An army of thousands was about to clash with an overwhelming enemy. Their already flagging co
nfidence was only propped up by their belief the First Mother was on their side. If they doubted that for an instant, they had only to look to the person of the oracle, riding at their head. If she was absent, would Branimir’s men still fight? Or would the lord withdraw his support at this late hour?
Eydis’s thoughts were interrupted by a messenger calling out from the mouth of the tent. Lord Branimir was still waiting to learn if the oracle had been found and if she was ready.
“She’ll be out in a moment,” Eydis called back.
So far none but she knew of the disaster that had befallen the cause. But how long could the news be contained?
Until after the battle. The truth must be hidden until then.
It was as if the oracle herself whispered the command in Eydis’s ear. All of a sudden, she knew what must be done. She had, after all, powers beyond the lifetouch at her disposal.
She summoned to mind every detail of the oracle’s face and form. With practice, it was growing easier to take the shape of another. Her skin stretched, her facial muscles contorting. But the discomfort passed quickly.
More difficult was the transformation of her body. In the past, she had only masked her face. Taking on changes from head to toe was more complicated. She broke into a sweat with the effort of magically removing her hair, changing her skin to the oracle’s violet hue, and mimicking the delicate designs patterning the other woman’s skin. Growing two extra arms was all but impossible. After several minutes of painful struggle, the best she could manage was a new pair of weak stunted limbs that refused to function. She had to content herself with grabbing the oracle’s golden robe off the back of a chair and wrapping it tightly around her torso. She would keep the useless lower arms covered.
Now there were only small details left. She slipped off the sleeping woman’s jewelry, sliding the bangles onto her own wrists. She snapped the oracle’s brass collar in place around her neck and put on the transparent black veil. Someone had laid out an ornate sword, probably the weapon the seer had intended to take into battle. Eydis took this although the blade was a different weight than she was accustomed to. She took also the accompanying leather gauntlets but ignored other light pieces of armor.
