“Your word? Come! You owe nothing to that joke of a court,” Tallarand retorted.
“It was not to the court that my word was pledged.”
Tallarand closed his eyes and shook his head in open disgust. “The Demon take any and all words that can tie a man to a wooden stake and set him on fire.”
Darius said nothing for a moment, his expression showing the distance that lay between them, and he finally said flatly, “Neither of you should be here. It will go hard if they should come and find a priest and a…a…”
“A minor peddler in trinkets and diversions,” offered Tallarand.
“My Lord, we have not come only for your life or our conscience,” said Joshua. “The Drift is in terrible danger, and with the death of Duke Boltran, the armies of the Southlands lack a leader. They…”
“They do not need a condemned criminal to guide them,” interrupted Darius. “What leverage I may have possessed ended with the death of Boltran and the sentence of the Maganhall court.”
“With the gentry, perhaps,” said Tallarand calmly. “But you have apparently made a deep impression on other sections of society. I am here at the request of an old acquaintance of yours that you apparently left squatting on a rock outside of Llan Praetor.”
“Adella!”
“The very same.”
Joshua watched a small smile creep over the Paladin’s face, and he could glimpse the strange friendship that had grown between these two unlikely individuals over the course of that journey to the mountain fortress. But then the man shook his head, the smile replaced with his old resignation.
“Adella’s plans always serve many goals,” he said at last. “I fear she must now find her way through that labyrinth without my aid.”
“Will you offer your daughter the same cold comfort?” asked Joshua.
Darius jolted as if hit with lightning. He grabbed the cleric by the shoulders, almost lifting the younger man off his feet. “Shannon?! Shannon is safe?”
“As safe as anyone in the Drift. She also begs for you to come and deliver the city from the threat of Regnar and this Juggernaut.”
“Is she unharmed? Is she with Adella? Where has she been?”
“Out on the Plains of Alencia and to Nargost Castle, apparently,” grinned Joshua, infected with the man’s unbridled joy. “As incredible as it may sound, they have freed the hostages that Regnar had taken as security on the bond of the states of the Plains. They have been brought safely to Duke’s Hall, and their families will soon learn of their release.”
A look of calculation came to Darius’ face, and he released his crushing grip on the young cleric’s shoulders. Joshua was puzzled by the reaction.
“Aye, My Lord, you read it aright,” said Tallarand, a touch of cynicism in his voice. “The remaining states of the Plains may be gathering their forces, but they are not in any great rush to do battle. The Juggernaut and the Silver Horde have passed them by, their families are now safe, and they would do well to wait on the results of the assault on the Drift before declaring their final allegiance.” There was a short pause before the man continued, “But does that not make the defense of the Drift all the more critical?”
Darius sat down heavily in the one chair, his face reflecting the struggles within as he weighed the new information against the old. Finally, he shook his head and said heavily, “I cannot leave.”
“What?!”
But Joshua had been watching the expressions playing over the man’s countenance and expected the answer.
“The door has been opened by us, My Lord,” he said. “Not by your actions, but by ours. Let any judgments from God or Man fall upon us, not you.”
“Bravely said, Joshua,” Darius said gently. “But that judgment has already been levied. I am accused of flaunting the laws of the Church. If I flee from the judgment of the Court now, I will just be confirming that sentence.”
“An unjust sentence,” responded Joshua with heat. “One motivated by politics and not by facts. No one is bound to abide by such a skewed ruling.”
“That is the very point,” said Darius. “We all acknowledge the right of the Court to try me. We cannot now reject that right simply because we do not like the result. But the issue goes far deeper than a single sentence or even a single life. The Church stands on the very brink of schism, and it is due in no small part to me. I know. I have seen it before. I have failed to keep the focus on the enemy, and now many of the faithful are torn between what they think is my belief and the dogma of the Church.”
Joshua opened his mouth to answer, to argue, but there was too much truth in the Paladin’s words.
“Your presence here tonight is the ultimate proof of this, Joshua,” Darius continued quietly. “You are a pure son of Mother Church, yet here you are seeking to release a condemned prisoner in defiance of the confirmed judgment of the entire Congregation.”
“I am in defiance of the manipulations of Argus!” he said angrily. “It is by his actions you were condemned, not yours!”
Darius stood and put a hand lightly on the young cleric’s shoulder.
“Heed me well now, my friend, for these may be the last words of wisdom I will be able to offer you,” he said, his voice now firm. “There have always been evil men in the ranks of humanity, and you cannot stop that by hacking off their heads. Always more will arise, and more after them. I have come only slowly to understand the words of my benefactor, Bilan-Ra. The Paladins are meant to be the examples for Mankind, the proof that there is a better way than the paths of darkness, the heroes that might stir means’ souls to valor. The final task set before me is admittedly the hardest of all. Not to charge an overwhelming enemy in a last glorious battle. But to walk steadily up the scaffold’s steps and heal the schism in the Church with my death.”
Joshua felt his heart turning to dust in his chest, taking hope with it. The man had made his decision, and worse, far worse, he wasn’t sure he was wrong. He made a last desperate attempt, switching tack from the philosophical to the practical.
“Let me ask you something, my lord,” began Joshua slowly. “If on the day of your execution you found yourself passing a woman drowning in a well, would you pause long enough to throw her a rope and pull her out?”
“Of course.”
“Then will you not pause long enough now to save us all before returning to face your death?”
“Fine logic,” admitted Darius. “Yet it is still wide of the mark. A moment’s pause to save one life carries no wrongs with it. Breaking free from a just sentence damages the very law on which our society is founded. I cannot balance that certain loss against lives which I may or may not be able to save at the Drift. That task now must fall to others.”
Joshua let out a hard sigh, but he kept his frustration under control.
“You are more than warrior and more than Paladin, My Lord,” he said softly. “You are also a father. Would leave your execution as the last memory to bequeath to your daughter?”
Darius stopped, mulling this over carefully. Then he began to shake his head, an answer forthcoming, but it never escaped from his mouth. Even as his lips opened to speak, there was a flash of movement from behind him, and Darius collapsed in a heap.
Joshua was left staring utterly aghast at Tallarand standing behind the crumpled giant, the sandbag that had felled Darius still swinging from the man’s fist.
“You…you hit him!” cried Joshua, hardly able to credit what he was witnessing.
“We both offered him compelling arguments,” Tallarand said casually. “Looks like he fell for mine. Now grab a shoulder. His head is almost as hard as his convictions, and I have no desire to have him coming to when we are only half way down the tunnel.”
*
Darius awakened on a changed world. His prison cell now had a canopy of stars above it and a breeze that smelled of a forest glen wafting across it. There was grass touched with morning dew beneath him, but the chill of this world carried a promise of rebirth, not t
he endless cold radiating from stone blocks. It also came with a shattering headache.
“Aaahhhh,” was the first sound out of his mouth as he got slowly up to a sitting position.
“Take a moment,” a voice said behind him. “A sandbag leaves a nasty headache, but it passes quicker than one left by an axe.”
Darius moved his eyes, since his head rebelled against any thought of motion. Two figures were hovering about him, and while the darkness hid details, there was something oddly familiar about the first figure’s stance and voice. A small flash of memory popped into his head, and though he couldn’t immediately connect it with this new environment, he recognized the speaker.
“Tallarand?” he asked, his voice no more than a croak.
“I am discovered,” Tallarand answered, his voice a smile. “My victims aren’t usually able to name me so easily.”
“Here, My Lord, drink this,” said the second figure with Joshua’s voice. He was gently lifting Darius’ back and proffering some kind of cup.
“What is it?” asked Darius.
“A headache draught.”
Reluctantly, he opened his mouth and drank, the potion tasting of chalk and bitterroot with a few chunks of some solid substance mixed in with the liquid. The effect, however, was simply miraculous. The headache quickly subsided to only a vague throb, and he was now able to at least lift himself into a sitting position.
“Was that a magical potion?” Darius asked, rubbing his neck in amazement at the relief..
“Just one of my grandmother’s cures,” Joshua replied. “But Tallarand added something he called seasoning.”
“Many herbs can act as a spice or a medicine, depending on their potency,” explained Tallarand.
And in their most potent form, they can become a poison, Darius added to himself. With the pain subsiding, he was able to look around and try to connect this world with the previous one. There was a huge unanswered gap between them.
“How did I get here?” he asked, answers presenting themselves even as the questions were posed. “Where is the fortress? What day is this?”
“It was to be the day of your execution,” said Joshua quietly.
“The fortress of Ringimore is barely a half-league behind us,” added Tallarand, a clear note of annoyance in his voice. “Joshua insisted on stopping to cure you, even though we are wasting the cover of the night. Even the thick-headed Maganhallers will eventually pick up our trail.”
“You broke me out of prison!”
“It seemed the only alternative.”
“You hit me and dragged me out!”
“And a tiresome long task it was, too,” Tallarand complained lightly. “We spent half the night trying to cram your wide shoulders through the dungeon’s sewers. Fortunately, we had fresh clothes with the horses.”
Darius looked down to discover he was wearing some kind of flannel nightshirt, apparently the easiest thing they could throw over him. He got fully to his feet now, pushing back what pain remained.
“I must go back,” Darius said, shaking his head. “This cannot be permitted.”
“The tunnel, I fear, has already been sealed. Though you can knock on the front gate if you’ve taken such a liking to the dungeon. Seemed a bit rank for my tastes.”
“I…I did not ask for this,” fumed Darius. “You have taken my choice from me.”
“I do apologize most sincerely, my lord, for saving your life,” Tallarand said with a delicate irony.
“That’s not the point,” Darius replied, trying not to sputter. “A sentence has been passed and accepted. The time to resist was during the trial, not afterwards.”
“I can only wonder what message your supporters will read into your escape and return,” said the man. “Apparently, that you actively approve of both the sentence and the punishment.”
Darius frowned, the point taking him by surprise. It was true, though. The path that had seemed so clear to insure the unity of the Church had now been obscured by these two unlikely allies.
“If you are already guilty of prison-breaking, there’s little harm in making a short detour before returning to the executioner’s block,” reasoned Tallarand. “Like a brief visit to help save the Drift?”
The Drift. His heart picked up a beat at the name, all the old thoughts driving back into his brain. “The Juggernaut nears?”
“By tomorrow at the latest it will be tearing down the city walls.”
Darius shook his head and tried to recapture the arguments he had offered in the dungeon. None of them now seemed to make any sense.
“You told me once that Mirna hears what is in your heart,” Joshua said softly. “Would returning to the stake be for His eyes or only for the eyes of others?”
Darius blinked, stopped by the thought. Had he become so prepared for death that he now could not accept the life being offered to him?
“I heard once about a holy man who left the world of men to find the ultimate truth in hermitage in the mountains,” Tallarand said simply. “He came upon it one cold and blustery night, but when he attempted to return down the mountains the next day, he was eaten by wolves. Was he furthering the will of Mirna, think you?”
Darius snorted, trying to fight down a laugh. “To think I should discover something about Mirna from a…” Tallarand’s eyebrows rose and Darius finished with a smile, “…a minor peddler in trinkets and diversions.”
Tallarand gave the smallest nod of his head.
“Very well, then,” said Darius. “My feet shall walk the road you have put beneath them.”
“The Prefect Adrian was able to acquire your armor for…your heirs,” Joshua said awkwardly. “But I am afraid he was unable to secure the release of your sword. We have no time now…”
“Do not fear on that score, Joshua,” Darius said. “You cannot spare me that sentence quite so easily.”
He held up his hand, and within seconds, a light began to shine about him, a light from which Tallarand and even Joshua flinched. There was a final flash, and they turned to find Darius standing with the Avenger drawn and ready.
“Come, my friends,” Darius said, sheathing the sword in the saddle scabbard. “We must be swift. I can feel Andros is already on his way to me, but even his speed might not get me to the Drift before the hammer falls.”
CHAPTER 22
The Battle of Jalan’s Drift
The city was tense with fear. Within its walls, every heart beat a little faster, every breath came a little shorter, and the tensions fed off each other, the wide eyes and dry lips contagious. The enemy was upon them despite all their efforts, an enemy that had not been stopped by any of the walls or any of the armies in its path.
Above them, a canopy of death now stretched across the entire sky and separated them from the sun, while beyond the walls, those same clouds reflected a flickering light like a wave of fire marching towards the city; the torches of the approaching Northings. But worst of all was the dull, distant thud that slightly shook the ground at regular intervals and grew imperceptibly with each occurrence, the tremor felt within the strongest buildings and even upon the thickest walls.
The approaching footsteps of the Juggernaut.
“I wish I could see what was happening,” fretted Shannon. “This waiting would not be so bad if I could see the enemy.”
They stood on the second wall of the city, the smithies and corrals of the first tier spread out before them, but they could see almost nothing beyond the towers and ramparts of the first wall. Thousands of soldiers stood guard upon that imposing bulwark, but spread across its entire length, they seemed hardly more than a handful.
“I’m not so sure,” said Jhan. “It’s bad enough feeling the approach of this thing as it walks towards us, let alone having to watch it.”
Adella leaned forward, staring at the wall as if she could see through it and said softly, “No one can see it clearly. Its skin is too close to the darkness, and even the light from the torches seems to be absorbed rather
than reflected. But their hearts feel its approach, feel it clearer than the soles of their feet that tremble with its’ ever step. The goblins and the Northings are dancing about it, celebrating its power and glorying in the coming battle. Off to the left at the Highlander’s Gate, stone giants are dragging a huge battering ram forward, and others are doing the same before the Merchant’s Gate to the right while barbarian archers are preparing to give them cover. But not a single shaft will be spent to protect the titan. There is no need. It will defy the power of men to do it harm, and the only question is how long it will take for it to hammer a breach.”
Both of them stared at her in amazement, and Shannon realized she was describing not this attack but rather another from the past. That made the description all the more chilling. She suddenly noticed that the soldiers on the first wall were firing their bows, firing directly forward rather than arching their arrows, a sure sign the enemy was close at hand.
There was a heavy crash that reverberated through all the streets and alleys of the city, a thunder that could be felt as much as heard, and Shannon and Jhan both started inalarm.
“The first blow from the titan against the walls,” said Adella tightly. “It begins. Come. We must gather our brood and retire to our rat holes.”
“But there is still the Second Wall between the enemy and us,” Jhan replied, and the words sounded hopeless even in his own ears.
“Once an army starts to retreat, it’s all too likely to just keep on running,” said Adella. “They’ll be lucky to hold the Third Wall, and Brillis knows it. That’s why she made the offer to us. Now move! The first enemies will be here in an hour, possibly less.”
*
Adella sat in the near total darkness of the sewer tunnel and listen to the mayhem and the carnage ripping through the streets above her, screams and cries much more common that the sound of sword on sword. That spoke of the rout she had predicted. Barely a minute earlier, they had heard a deafening series of crashes as if whole buildings were being ripped apart, and there were still smaller crashes occurring that suggested the invaders had time to loot and plunder without fear of the defenders.
Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) Page 27
