"War."
"War," the Guardian repeated. "But this is no longer just a war to free your country. The trap the Orlocks have laid has been a thousand years in the making. Understand this, Mathew Lewin—the battle that is coming is not for land or wealth or political ideology. It is for the survival of man. The nations of both the East and West now seek to form an alliance to meet this threat. In this Teanna d'Elso has been instrumental.
"If men survive, all of the accumulated knowledge that you asked about will still be here. You can return the world to what it was or let things resume their natural course. The ultimate decision will be yours. I give you this warning, however: Should you emerge as the victor, people will seek you out. It will make no difference whether they are capable of controlling the ring or not. The lure of power will draw them. Conceivably, they will be content to let one person possess such power, and then again ...
Mathew sat on the edge of a console.
"Maybe they won't," Mathew said, finishing the sentence. "But how can I stop a million Orlocks? Even if I retrieve the ring, there are limits to what I can do." .
The Guardian stared at him for a long time. "No, there aren't," he said softly.
Gradually, an image of the last time he fought Karas Duren began to surface in Mathew's mind. The terrifying power that built up inside him had been almost too great to contain and he pulled himself back from the precipice at the last possible moment. He had seen in his mind a kaleidoscope of devastation and destruction on a scale that was barely imaginable. There were times at night when the thoughts still frightened him.
Mathew shook his head. "My ancestors nearly destroyed the world. Do you know what you're asking? I've read about what happened in the books ... about their weapons."
Without warning a picture formed above the disk on the console to Mathew's right. After several seconds it was replaced by another picture. Then more followed, one after another, and the horror of what he was seeing closed around his heart like fingers of ice.
"There has to be another way," Mathew whispered when the pictures finally stopped. "Why did you show me this?"
"I suspect you already know the answer," said the Guardian. "You have known for a very long time."
"But I have a wife and a son, now." "I know," the Guardian said quietly. "No, it's not possible." The Guardian watched him. Seconds passed before Mathew finally reached his decision. "Can you tell me how to reach Rivalin?"
47
Alor Satar
Eric and Armand Duren sat in the command tent of Alor Satar's elite Northern Battalions, on the heights above the Roeselar River. Teanna d'Elso was with them. She had just delivered an ultimatum to her cousins, and neither was happy. Either they swore an oath and joined the new alliance, she told them, or they could meet the Or-locks and Vargoth on their own.
It was late morning on a clear autumn day, and the camp was alive with activity. Fortifications were being constructed all along the ridge and sentries had been posted. Horses pulling cannons moved past the tent opening in a constant stream. This was where Armand Duren intended to make his stand.
Three miles away, on the east side of the river, the Var-gothan and Orlock armies were engaged in their own preparations. Teanna had been in military camps before, but she had never seen anything on this scale. The Northern Battalions had been reinforced with units of Alor Satar's border command, and they now numbered eighty thousand men. Supply wagons came and went with regularity as more soldiers arrived on the scene,
"You should have consulted with us about this first," said Eric. "We've spent too much money and time acquiring Elgaria, and you give it away just like that." He snapped his fingers.
"We're still able to defend ourselves," Armand added.
"We have better than five hundred cannon along the heights and the advantage of higher ground."
Teanna looked from one to the other. "I can't believe you two are this thick. Don't you see what's happening? Bajan has sided with Delain, and Lirquan and Felize are providing him ships to meet Coribar. You're all alone. If you weren't family, I'd wash my hands of the both of you."
"But it's insanity giving Mathew Lewin back his ring," said Armand. "As soon as the war is over he'll turn on us." "Mathew Lewin will not break his word. My problem is finding him in time."
"And you have no idea where he is," Eric said, "other than someplace in Corrato."
"That's what Delain told me. He's with Siward Thomas." Eric leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. "You took that statement at face value and call us stupid? Delain could be playing you for a fool—pretending to form an alliance so he can let us take the brunt of the attack."
"I don't think so," said Teanna. "I've met with him as well as James and Gawl. I think they're sincere. This is a threat to all of us."
"Do you know what I think, cousin?" Eric said, picking up an apple and cutting it in half. "I think your infatuation with Lewin has clouded your judgment. He killed your mother and our father, in case you've forgotten."
Teanna locked eyes with him. "No, I haven't forgotten, but there comes a time to put the past aside. The important thing now is to preserve our countries and our people." The brothers looked at each other. "What's the next step in this grand plan of yours?" asked Armand.
"Delain wants to meet in Bajan at Arkasha in three days time so we can plan our strategy. The treaty will be signed there."
Armand's smile was sardonic. "Why doesn't he come here?"
"Because he trusts you no more than you trust him," Teanna replied. "Bajan has agreed to host the summit."
Armand laced his fingers together and considered the proposal. He was a methodical man whose skills as a military commander were known far and wide. Unlike his brother, he tended to be plainspoken and usually said what was on his mind. The key was not to rush him.
Teanna's face assumed the masklike aspect that she had seen her mother employ when negotiating. Eric continued to cut the apple into slices, not taking his eyes off her.
"All right," said Armand. "Tell Delain we'll meet. Our scouts say it will be at least five days before Shakira can bring her troops up from the south. She'll have to pass this way or be caught in a vise."
Two days after his return to Tenley Palace, Gawl walked among the smoking ruin that was once the Abbey of Bar-cora. Jeram Quinn and Arteus Ballenger were with him. Two of the abbey's buildings had been reduced to rubble, and sunlight now flooded through enormous rents, in the walls. The main gates, torn from their hinges, lay shattered on the ground. Everywhere Gawl looked there were the dead; not just soldiers, but teachers and scholars, young boys and old men. The priests had tried to defend the abbey, but their efforts had made little difference. Most of them died horribly. Gawl could see that. A force of five thousand Vargothans and Orlocks had landed in a cove twenty miles to the south of Barcora in the dead of night and launched their attack.
After twenty-eight years of being a soldier, Gawl thought the sight of death was something he would grow used to. He was wrong. The smell alone nearly turned his stomach.
"They had no warning, sire," Ballenger said. "One of the young novices escaped and found a patrol of ours. He
told the lieutenant what was happening, but by the time my people returned it was over."
Gawl nodded slowly. "Where are they now?"
"We followed them as far as Nicola Cove. Apparently, Coribar's fleet was waiting there to take them off. Two women from Bexley described their flag accurately enough so there's no doubt."
"But why attack an abbey?" asked Quinn.
"This is Terrence Marek's doing," Gawl replied. "Eliminate the competition."
Quinn spat on the ground.
"How long before the cannons are ready?" Gawl asked.
"Two more days," Ballenger answered. "We'll need at least another five days to train the men."
"And how many ships do we have?"
"With the ten that Prince James left us, forty in all."
"Do we know where their fleet is heading?" he asked.
"The best information we have is from a merchant vessel that docked in the harbor last night," Quinn told him. "Their captain sighted a huge flotilla heading north a hundred and thirty miles southeast of Tyraine. It's got to be them.
"We also know that a large contingent of Vargothans left Palandol two days ago and was seen heading along the coast road toward Cincar. In all likelihood they'll cross the border tonight."
Gawl looked at his general. "How did we get this news so quickly? It doesn't seem possible."
"Teanna d'Elso appeared at our headquarters last night and furnished us the details," Ballenger told him. "It's a bit disturbing to have her pop out of a ball of light and disappear again."
"You should try traveling with her sometime," Gawl replied. "Did she say anything else?"
"She said the Orlocks are moving everything they have toward a place called Balengrath. It's located on the other side of—"
"I know where it is," said Gawl. "This is what we'll do . .."
Gawl called for a map and spread it on the ground. Then he described his plan to Ballenger and Quinn. The Sennian army would to be divided in half. One half, under Ballenger's command, would take the mountain passes and intercept the Vargothan and Orlock attack force that had destroyed the abbey. The remaining half would board the ships and head for Tyraine.
"Understand this," said Gawl. "We may be too late to stop the mercenaries and creatures from getting off those ships, but I intend that Coribar's ships will not leave the Tyraine harbor. Do I make myself clear? The passes will let us out well to the north of Tyraine and ahead of their army, so the lead is not as great as they think. Once we have destroyed them, we will join forces at Ritiba and converge on Balengrath."
Ballenger snapped a salute and headed back to see to the preparations.
Gawl and Quinn resumed their walk amidst the wreckage, helping where they could. Some two hundred men and women from Bexley and the surrounding towns had already arrived with wagons and were loading the dead onto them. It was a somber and depressing sight.
Without a word, both men stopped to right a sundial in the main quadrangle that had been knocked over during the fight and their eyes met.
Jeram Quinn spoke first. "You haven't said where you want me."
Gawl was silent for a moment. "It seems your career has been sidetracked, Jeram. Guy, Rowena, and the barons have fled the country, so the trials will have to wait.
Mathew and Siward Thomas are who knows where?" Gawl shrugged. "We can only pray they'll be successful."
"Under the circumstances, I think it best to release you from your pledge. You're an Elgarian and you belong with your own people."
"That's very considerate," said Quinn. "Several years ago I led a cavalry charge at Fanshaw Castle. Do you remember?"
Gawl nodded. "Of course. I didn't hear your speech to the men, but they told me about it afterward."
"I meant what I said. Coribar wants to destroy anyone who opposes their way of thinking, and I'm opposed to anyone who tries to force their views on me. Vargoth wants Elgaria; I'm equally opposed to that. The Orlocks want mankind exterminated. Unfortunately, I have moral objections to being murdered and eaten, so it seems I'm at loose ends at the moment. Whether I fight here or there will make no difference in the great scheme of things."
Gawl looked down at the constable and started to chuckle. Then he put his arm around Quinn's shoulders and they walked through the front gate of the abbey together.
48
Ten Miles Outside Rivalin
They found themselves standing on a hill in the middle of an old castle. All that was left were two walls and a portion of a third. A gate that once guarded, the entrance now hung sideways on its hinge. Grass grew between the cracks of what must have once been a courtyard and the wind whistled through the broken foundation.
Lara brought her hands up to her face as if to make sure it was still there. "I can't say I care for this way of travel."
"Nor I," Ceta agreed. "It makes the stomach feel funny."
"Where are we?" Collin asked.
"Somewhere above the town of Rivalin, I should say," Father Thomas said, looking out over the nearest wall.
Mathew joined him. In the distance were the watchtow-ers of his dream and the bay. He turned a slow circle studying the landscape. Most of it consisted of jagged peaks and heavy forest, but he could see no sign of a cave. It was still early in the morning, the sun barely over the horizon, bathing the mountains in warm reds and golds. If the situation was different, he might have stood there admiring the view, but at the moment all he cared about was locating the cave entrance.
"Any idea where it is?" asked Collin.
Mathew shook his head and tried to recall the angle of the watchtowers from his dream. Lara put an arm around his waist and looked with him. Father Thomas and Ceta took one side and Collin the other.
"Maybe we should go down to the village and ask somebody," Collin suggested.
"It's got to be around here somewhere," Mathew said, half to himself.
"There," Ceta said, pointing.
"Where?" asked Father Thomas.
"Just between that clump of trees and a little to the right. I can make out an opening."
Mathew shielded his eyes from the glare and followed the line of her arm.
"What do you think, Mat?" asked Father Thomas.
"That's it. I'm sure of it."
Father Thomas gave Ceta a kiss.
"Well it won't be easy getting there, and I don't see any roads," said Collin.
Mathew turned to face the others. "There's something I want to say to all of you. I haven't told you everything about my dream. This is something I need to do alone."
The others listened as he explained the part about Shakira and the Orlocks. Even Collin was uncharacteristically quiet. When he was through, Father Thomas was the first to speak.
"Did you mention this to the Guardian?"
"Yes, but he only knew about the ring being in the cave."
Father Thomas thought for a moment. "Dreams are strange things, Mathew. Your brain could be playing tricks on you."
"I'm aware of that. But the point is, I can't take a chance with your lives. I'm going by myself."
The statement produced a storm of argument that lasted ten minutes. Lara was adamant about going; so was Ceta. Surprisingly, it was Father Thomas who decided the issue.
"I think Mathew is right," he said. "Lara, you are not only Mat's wife, but a mother as well. It would be bad enough if something happened to one of you. This makes it all the more imperative that the other survives for your son's sake. We've talked about this before, and it's just as true now. Ceta, my darling, you are many things, but unless you have concealed your skill with a sword from me, going would place you in grave danger, and that I will not allow."
Father Thomas then turned to Collin. "And as for you—"
"And as for me, I'm in the dream, right?" Collin said. He turned to Mathew. "Right?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"You said that in your dream both of us climbed up to the door in the cave, didn't you?"
"Sure, but—"
"Then it's settled. Father Thomas can take the women into the town and get horses for us. We'll meet them there once we have the ring."
There were more protests from Lara and Ceta, but they were less forceful than before. Father Thomas stayed out of it and eventually motioned for Collin and Ceta to come with him. They walked to the opposite side of the courtyard, leaving Mathew and Lara alone together.
Mathew took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You know I'm right," he said, keeping his voice
down, "so for once in your life, please don't argue with me. We don't have much time. I love you and Bran with all my heart and I'd have you with me if I could. But I can't. You must understand that. I'm not going there to die—I'm going there to get the ring back. I wantyou to wait for me in the village. I'll come to you, I swear."
The tears that welled up in Lara's eyes nearly broke his heart. He thought of Bran and of Devondale and how she looked standing at the altar in the church that day.
Lara settled the matter by pulling him to her and kissing him. Then, without another word, she turned and walked to Father Thomas.
She and Collin said something to each other that Mathew couldn't catch before his friend rejoined him. The two of them stood atop the broken foundation and watched the others walk down the hill until the trees finally blocked their view.
"Let's go," said Collin.
The terrain was uneven and difficult to negotiate. It took them two hours just to reach the base of the hill where Ceta had seen the cave. There, they took a short rest. The opening was about a hundred feet up and barely visible from where they stood. There was a narrow ledge below it. Above the entrance was nothing but sheer rock that ended in a plateau.
Mathew checked the area for any sign of Orlocks.
"Anything?" Collin asked.
Mathew shook his head, tight-lipped.
Another half hour of scrambling up a steep incline brought them to the ledge and breathing hard from the exertion. Mathew looked out and caught a brief glimpse of Lara, Ceta, and Father Thomas well below them, making their way along a narrow path toward the village. He waved even though their backs were to him, then turned to consider the cave entrance.
"This is it," he said, taking a drink from his water bottle.
"Great. What happens next?"
Mathew stared at him over the lip of the bottle.
Collin's shoulders slumped. "More climbing?"
"If I'm right, once we're inside we'll find a narrow path that leads to a circular opening in about three hundred yards. There'll be a waterfall and the door will be directly above that."
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0) Page 35
