Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  sions an hour after taking a drink. Another soldier, who was walking at the rear of the column, popped a handful of blackberries into his mouth. His face broke out in boils, and in a short while, it was so swollen he couldn't see and had to be helped along by his friends. The following morning a fever took him and he was buried within ten miles of their goal.

  It was the greatest relief to both Gawl and James when they finally left the Wasted Lands and came at last to the sea. It stretched before them to the horizon. The expedi­tion had climbed for most of the day and was now atop a cliff that looked out over the Gardic Ocean. The sky changed from gray to sharp cloudless blue, and they saw the sun for the first time in six days. White gulls glided gracefully through the air, their cries reaching the men below.

  Gawl took a deep breath, pulling the welcome salt air into his lungs.

  If I never set foot in that miserable place again, it will be too soon, he thought.

  Out of an abundance of caution, James sent two scouts on to Oglive Bay, where they were to rendezvous with the Mirdanite fleet. He wanted to make sure all of the ships were there and it was safe to bring the men forward. It took the scouts nearly four hours to make the trip and the return. They reported that forty ships had dropped anchor approximately fifteen miles from their present position. Ten more ships were expected in the morning.

  James then gave the order to make camp.

  Once Arteus Ballenger was satisfied his men were prop­erly settled, he posted sentries and went to join Gawl. They walked together in silence along the sandy shore for nearly twenty minutes before Gawl said anything.

  "I think you ought to know about my conversation with Jeram Quinn."

  "The Elgarian constable?" Ballenger asked.

  "Yes. I've asked him if he would preside over a trial for Edward Guy and Ferdinand Willis."

  "I see."

  "I know how you feel," Gawl said, "but I think I've come to the right decision."

  He went on to tell the general about his plan for dealing with the traitors. Ballenger occasionally nodded but didn't interrupt. Gawl couldn't tell if that signified agreement or not, so he continued with his explanation.

  "I think it's a good plan, sire. A soldier's job isn't to make war, though I would have no objection to doing so where the Archbishop and Lord Guy are concerned. I think they're the worst thing that has ever happened to Sennia. My job is to see you back on the throne, and that's what I intend to do."

  "... but something bothers you."

  "I don't know this Quinn very well. He seems like a good man, but he's not a Sennian. Do you think the people will accept that?"

  "I believe so," Gawl replied. "I've promised to give him a free hand. The trial will be conducted with a jury of commoners and barons according to the law. I intend for it to be held in public, not in a closet as Siward Thomas's or mine were. His job will be to preside over it and make sure that things are run correctly. If the outcome is good, it's good. If it's bad, it's bad, but it will be a fair trial."

  "The army will support you, sire. You have my word on that."

  "Good man."

  The following morning an army composed of fifteen thousand Sennians and Mirdanites made their way to Oglive Bay and began boarding the ships. The horses pre­sented a problem and special slings had to be installed in the ships' holds to accommodate them. It was a slow and te­dious process.

  Gawl stood in the prow of James's flagship listening to the wind moving through the rigging. He watched the activity down on the beach for a few minutes before his mind drifted to Rowena and the thought of putting her on trial. Under Sennian law, the penalty for treason was death. It was not something he wanted to dwell on.

  Why couldn't they have accepted my offer of clemency? This must be what happens when you get old. You go soft. Gawl of Sennia going soft on his enemies.

  The thought made him laugh.

  32

  The Road to Nyngary

  Nearly a week had passed since they'd freed Ceta Woodall from her captors, and as Father Thomas had pre­dicted, the Vargothans struck back violently. Despite_ the fact that none of their officers had survived the attack at Gravenhage, the mercenaries proved to be amazingly well-trained. When the main garrison realized what was happening, they organized quickly and launched a coun-teroffensive, burning half of Gravenhage to the ground. It was not so much a show of strength as an attempt to teach the Elgarians a lesson. Unable to find anyone who would give them information about the assault, the Vargothans then moved on Mechlen.

  But without experienced officers to guide them, the mercenaries were a less effective fighting force than they had been. Three hundred fifty Elgarian militia under Akin Gibb's command met them at a place called Mirasal Val­ley. No Vargothan survived the encounter. Whether King Delain liked it or not, the rebellion had begun.

  Mathew learned about the battle secondhand. In the confusion following Ceta's rescue, it was decided that he and Father Thomas would take advantage of the enemy's disarray and immediately head for Nyngary. It was no longer possible, of course, for either Ceta or Collin to re­main in Devondale. Even the dullest Vargothan would be able to piece together what had occurred.

  At Father Thomas's suggestion, two more of Dermot Walsh's wagons were appropriated, and were now being used to support their disguise as traveling wine merchants. For a brief period Mathew considered trying to talk the women out of coming, but following a heated conversa­tion with his new wife, he gave up on the idea. Lara and Ceta had made up their minds, and arguing further would be pointless. Mathew and Lara did agree to leave Bran in Devondale where he would be safe. It was not an easy de­cision, but a necessary one. He would be safer there. Goodbyes were said and they rode out the following day. The little boy's face was somber as he watched them go.

  The town of Bell's Ferry, where they stopped, was color­less. It bordered the Roeselar River and, like most towns, had an inn.

  They'd traveled most of the day over roads badly in need of repair and their progress had been slow. Ex­hausted, and with evening coming on, they decided to take rooms for the night. Father Thomas and Ceta were at the end of the hallway, and Collin was next door. If everything went as planned, they would be in Nyngary in less than a week. That was the easy part.

  Sleep came quickly, but it didn't last. For the third time in as many nights Mathew awoke in a cold sweat. The dream was back again. He'd been having the same dream off and on for the last four years, but for some reason, he was having it more often of late and the details were richer than in the past. He was now as familiar with their content as he was with his own face. In all of them he had found himself inside a cave.

  Lara was sleeping quietly by his side when he awoke and sat up. He had no idea what time it was because it was too dark to see the clock. Some time after midnight he guessed. A quiet rain was falling against the windowpane. Mathew put his head back down on the pillow and tried to recall as much about the dream as he could before the memory faded.

  The cave was dark and he had been carrying a lantern.

  Without it there would have been no light at all. That much he remembered clearly.

  For the next hour he stared up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to return. It didn't. Too many thoughts were keeping him awake. As he lay there he pictured his son playing on the floor of Martin and Amanda's house. A few days ago he was single—now he was married and with a child.

  Things were changing. His life was changing.

  It wasn't that he objected to them. Bran was a good boy. He could tell that right away. He desperately wanted to get to know him better and be the right kind of father. Mathew smiled in the dark.

  The minutes wore on slowly and his eyes grew heavier until sleep finally overtook him. Then the dream started and he found himself back in the cave again.

  He could feel the rough stone on the walls when he touched them, but something was different. For the first time he realized that he wasn't alone. Collin was with him and they were traveli
ng the narrow path together. The way was not marked, but he could see an opening in the rocks where the path disappeared. They decided to keep going. No spectacular colors were revealed when the lantern's light shone on walls. They were dull and tan. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the sound of water dripping.

  "Do you know where we are?" Mathew asked, uncer­tain if people could talk dreams.

  "No idea," Collin replied.

  They had to squeeze their bodies through several irreg­ular rock formations as they continued along the path. Af­ter some time, it widened into a circular area about two hundred feet across. High above them a subterranean wa­terfall cascaded down into a pool. The dream shifted and he found that he was climbing once again. As a boy he had never cared for heights, and it was no different now, dream or not. The only reason he climbed at all was because his friends had and he was afraid of being laughed at. They

  continued to climb for another fifteen minutes until they were far above the cave floor. Mathew reminded himself that it was better not to look down, did, and was immedi­ately hit by a wave of vertigo, which caused his stomach to tighten. He clung to the side for a moment until his breath came back.

  After Mathew recovered, he suddenly found himself standing on the ledge of a cliff with Collin.

  He also knew why they were there. The echo's pulsa­tions had been increasing throughout his body for some time. His ring was near.

  Compared to what he had once been able to do, the echo's power was feeble. This was both a blessing and a curse—on one hand, it had enabled him to save Father Thomas's life; on the other, it was a constant reminder of what he had lost.

  They both saw it at the same time. On the other side of a fifteen-foot chasm, a door was set into a sheer rock wall. It was rounded at the top and made of heavy oaken planks that had been reinforced with iron bands and nails. The cavern floor lay more than two hundred feet below them, and there was no way to get across it without building a bridge.

  Mathew held the lantern higher to get a better look and let out a yell of surprise, stepping backward out of reflex. In the shadows were three Orlocks. Two of them were males, the third was a female. The woman was as tall as the men. She had the same white skin and yellow hair, but her eyes were gray. He knew it was Shakira.

  Collin drew his sword, but the Orlocks didn't react. Mathew put his hand on his friend's arm. They could run from the creatures, he thought, but where would they go? The Orlocks could have easily killed them while they were climbing, and yet they hadn't.

  "An interesting place Teanna has chosen to hide the ring, wouldn't you say, human?" Shakira asked.

  Mathew glanced at the door across the chasm and took a step forward. "Is my ring in there?"

  "It is."

  "You're Shakira, aren't you?"

  The Orlock queen inclined her head.

  "I'm Mathew Lewin. This is my friend, Collin Miller."

  "I know who you are."

  "How could you know me? We've never met."

  "There is enough power coming from you even now to see as much."

  "What is it you want?"

  "The same thing you do," Shakira replied.

  "But the ring can only work for one person," Mathew said. "Each one is unique. It would be useless to you."

  Shakira laughed to herself. "You have a great deal to learn."

  "So people keep telling me. It's the truth though. The rings can only work with one person. It has something to do with the chemicals in the brain. I'm not even sure they would work with an Orlock."

  "Mat," Collin interrupted, touching him on the arm.

  Mathew pulled his arm away. "Look, I know how you feel about us, but Orlocks and humans didn't always hate each other. I was in the Emerald Cavern and I've seen what's down there. If you would just let—"

  "Mat," Collin said again.

  "What?" Mathew asked, turning to him.

  Collin motioned with his head toward the Orlocks. The two males stood silently, their chests rising and falling. Shakira folded her arms across her chest and said nothing. It was a second before Mathew noticed the rose gold ring on her right hand.

  The look of shock on his face must have been obvious, because Shakira smiled.

  "How?" he asked.

  "There is a good deal more to the cavern than you saw during your visit," Shakira told him. "You are right in one respect, our races did work together... once, but that time passed into the shadows three thousand years ago."

  "You came here for my ring?"

  "Your ring by chance, not by right."

  Mathew thought rapidly. Something about the conver­sation wasn't adding up.

  If Shakira already has one of the rose gold rings, she could easily have killed us and taken the other one. So why are we standing here passing the time of day?

  "You know, you're probably right," said Collin. "If you'll just excuse us, my friend and I will just be running along now. It's been nice to meet you."

  "If the ring is in there," Mathew asked, "why don't you get it yourself?"

  Shakira's silence spoke volumes to him, and he looked at the door again. The fact that it was across a drop shouldn't have mattered to her, but for some reason it did.

  Collin picked up on the same thing. "Maybe they don't like heights," he said under his breath. "Let's get out of here."

  Convinced that something was wrong, Mathew studied the door closer.

  He hadn't seen anything before, but now he could just make out something in front of it. The air was not quite transparent... at least around the edges. Some sort of blur ran completely around the frame.

  Mathew bent down and picked up a pebble. He glanced at Shakira and the other Orlocks then tossed it across the chasm at the door. It never made contact. A bright orange flash and a loud crack made everyone jump.

  "You can't get to it," Mathew said.

  "But you can. Retrieve the ring for me and we will let your people live. The time of the Orlocks has come and there is nothing you or anyone can do to stop us."

  "What's around the edge of the door?" he asked.

  "A ward Teanna d'Elso has placed there."

  Mathew thought about that. It made sense that Teanna wouldn't leave the ring unprotected. But what Shakira was saying made no sense. Did she expect him to simply get the ring and give it to her? The moment he put it on, they would be equal. No, he decided, there was something else going on.

  "Why don't you get it?" he asked.

  "You know very little about how the rings work," said Shakira. "Whatever she has placed there cannot harm you. This is not true for us."

  "You've already pointed out my ignorance," Mathew said. "I'll need some time to think about this."

  Shakira's eyes fixed on his. "For you there is no more time. Kill them."

  Both of the male Orlocks drew their weapons and rushed forward. Caught unprepared, Collin and Mathew managed to avoid the initial attack but couldn't stop the creatures from ranning into them. Bodies met and Mathew found himself hurtling through the air. He was so close to the Orlock that its smell nearly overpowered him. Even as they fell, it tried to bite him. Sharp teeth sunk into his shoulder and he screamed in pain.

  He came awake with a start, his sudden movement waking Lara.

  "What is it?" she asked, putting a hand on his back.

  "It's nothing. I was just having a dream."

  "A nightmare?"

  Mathew swallowed and lay back down again. He reached out and smoothed her hair. "Yes, I'm fine now. Go back to sleep."

  "You first."

  He slipped an arm around her shoulders and she snug­gled closer, resting her head on his chest.

  The following morning they met Father Thomas and Ceta in the common room for breakfast. Collin was there with them.

  "Both wagons will be ready as soon as we are," Collin announced.

  "My, you've been busy," Lara remarked, giving him a kiss on the cheek before she sat down.

  "I decided to get up early and see that ev
erything was in order. Say... this egg toast is pretty good," he said, taking a bite of his food. "Bran loves egg toast. I generally make it for him in the mornings, particularly when it's cold out."

  It seemed to Mathew that he was about to say some­thing else and then thought better of it and changed the subject.

  "It's not as good as yours, Ceta," he went on, "but it's definitely not bad."

  "Thank you, Collin," Ceta replied. "We didn't hear you come in last night. That floor in the hallway squeaks so." "Well... I was trying not to disturb you." The kitchen door opened then and a pretty, auburn-haired serving girl came out carrying a large glass of or­ange juice and a plate of eggs. She set it down in front of Collin with a smile, introduced herself to the others as Hilde, then took their orders. She made a point of trailing her fingers across Collin's neck on the way to the kitchen. Ceta and Lara exchanged glances. Seated between his wife and his friend, Mathew noticed it as well, but pru­dently said nothing. Lara however, made a point of lean­ing around him and looking at Collin, who seemed to be concentrating on his eggs with more attention than was strictly necessary. After a few minutes he excused himself and said he would meet everyone at the stables later.

  Father Thomas watched Collin go out the front door. "As soon as we're all done eating," he said, "I'd like to get started. If the weather holds and we keep up a reasonable pace, we should reach the Cut just after midday and be in Alor Satar before nightfall. There's a town called Ardosta where we can stop."

  "Will it be safe?" Ceta asked.

  "I'm not sure anyplace is safe. The Vargothans are certainly going to try and find us once they get organized again. And it's safe to assume that Alor Satar will send troops to support them. Our job will be to avoid both groups, which may be easier said than done."

  Ceta nodded.

  "Then I suppose we'd better purchase some more wine," said Ceta.

  "We have wine," Father Thomas replied.

  "We have two barrels, dear. Since we're supposed to be traveling wine merchants, it might look better if we actu­ally had a reasonable stock to sell in case we're stqpped. From what I've seen, the prices are pretty reasonable here—we might even turn a profit."