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

by Mitchell Graham

  "Ah, there's the young man Shakira and I were dis­cussing earlier. Well, she was right, I see—you are still alive. Perhaps you have more sense than the gentlemen next to you. If you surrender now you'll find us merciful."

  "I've seen examples of your mercy. Tell your men to leave the field. If the Orlocks want a home, we'll find them one, but the killing has to end here and now. I don't want to see anyone else die."

  "Particularly yourself, eh, Lewin? It's a generous offer, to be sure, but I'm dubious their lordships have elected you their spokesman. Personally I think you're bluffing. Shakira is still strong, and it'll be days before you can use your ring again. Unfortunately, I'm not going to give you that time. What I do give you is one hour."

  Mathew watched Seth ride back. "I need our people off the field," he said over his shoulder. Armand and Delain looked at each other.

  "You don't just ask a half million people to move," Ar­mand said. "It would take time and we'll lose field position."

  "How long?" Mathew asked.

  "An hour, two hours, but that's only part of—"

  "Get them to move," said Mathew.

  Armand took Delain under the elbow and pulled him aside and the two began arguing in vehement whispers. It was clear that Armand thought Mathew has lost his mind. Asking them to give up the ground they had fought so hard for was no small request and it could easily spell dis­aster. In the end it was Gawl who settled it.

  "Mathew, are you still capable?" he asked.

  Mathew's nod was almost imperceptible.

  'Then I say, move them, Armand. I trust the boy."

  "So do I," said Delain.

  "But we'll be giving up field position," Armand insisted.

  "It won't make a difference," Delain said. "You know that as well as I do. If they don't get through this time, they will the next."

  Armand held his gaze for a long time before he said, "Give the order to retreat."

  When the Alliance's trumpets sounded, a great cheer went up from the Vargothans and the Orlocks. Their command­ers waited the appointed hour and then ordered their sol­diers to advance.

  Their progress, however, was short-lived. The doors to the citadel opened and a lone figure walked out. Most of the Alliance soldiers had aheady left the field and were marching along the road to Stewart Vale. Lara and Bran were among them. James and the Mirdanites had also pulled back to a position three miles from the battle site. Only Gawl and Delain still remained on the walls. Inside the citadel a breeze blew swirls of dust slowly across the courtyard. Gawl could almost feel the silence hanging in the air, heavy and foreboding.

  After a hundred yards Mathew stopped. A half mile distant across the valley the Vargothan and Orlo.ck com­manders continued their advance, with Shakira and Seth in the vanguard.

  "It's him," said Shakira.

  Seth shielded his eyes from the glare and squinted across the field. "Alone?" he asked, incredulous.

  "Alone."

  In the west, just above the mountaintops, dark clouds had begun to gather and the wind was picking up. Not' no­ticeable at first, it increased in strength over the next few minutes. Delain and Gawl, having the advantage of a higher position, saw the tops of the trees moving along the upper ridge of the valley and exchanged a glance.

  On the field, Mathew remained where he was, feet wide apart, a mere three hundred yards separating him from Shakira, King Seth, and one of his generals. Hundreds deep the Orlock and Vargothan armies marched behind them.

  "We end this now," said Shakira.

  She extended her arm at the two nearest catapults and the chains suddenly snapped. Without warning, they lifted off the ground and shot forward at Mathew. Both ex­ploded fifty yards from where he stood.

  Rage twisted Shakira's feature's. "Kill him!" she screamed to her commanders.

  Seth snapped his fingers twice, and looked at his gen­eral, then he pointed at the lone figure opposing them. He drew his sword and yelled, "Attack!"

  No more, Mathew said to himself.

  * * *

  From the walls of Balengrath, Gawl saw a hundred yard section of ground in front of Mathew buckle and rise up like a wave. Rocks and dirt flew into the air as it started forward, gathering momentum, as though someone had just shaken a carpet. The mercenaries charging at Mathew were knocked to the side like so many rag dolls and confusion erupted in their ranks. Seth saw it com­ing, wheeled his horse around, and galloped to the side of the field. On her wagon, Shakira's lips pulled back into a snarl and she hissed.

  The explosion that followed was deafening.

  On the battlements Gawl and Delain both ducked out of reflex and watched as the armies of Vargoth and the Or­lock nation regrouped. Across the valley floor over a thou­sand horsemen moved into an attack formation, lowering their lances, and charged.

  "He's got to get out of there," said Delain.

  Other than Mathew's arm coming up, he made no other movement. A shock wave rushed outward in an arc spreading across the valley. Horses, men, creatures, and catapults were flung into the air as the wave slammed into them.

  Mathew knew that his first blast hadn't killed Shakira. Her life force was still strong. It was also possible that Seth was alive, too. Either way, it made no difference.

  "You fear to use the ancient weapons, human. I do not." Shakira's voice spoke in his mind. "Surrender now and you can save your people. Fail to do so and I will de­stroy them to the last. Their deaths will be on your head."

  The talking, he knew was an attempt to break his con­centration. It was true that he had pulled back in Stewart Vale. Whether out of fear or because the images the Guardian had shown him were too horrible to contem­plate, he didn't know. The death and destruction his an­cestors had created was on a scale he could never have imagined in his wildest dreams. Even as he deflected Shakira's bolts of light, he sensed the hatred radiating from her—hatred for all that was human, hatred three millennia in the making.

  He had seen death for so long now—on the battlefields, on the Great Southern Sea, and in towns and villages. It was time to put an end to it, even if it meant his own de­mise. The thought that he might never see Lara and Bran again nearly overwhelmed him, but it was something that could wait no longer.

  He considered trying to reason with Shakira and Seth one last time, but knew that would do no good. Their ha­tred existed for its own end;

  When Mathew's voice popped into Gawl's head, he started and looked around. One glance at Delain told him that he had just heard the same, thing.

  "We need to go," said Gawl.

  Delain nodded and took one more look at the solitary figure standing on the battlefield before they ran down the steps. Shakira had continued to unleash bolt after bolt of the killing light at Mafhew. Each time one struck, a foun­tain of earth shot up into the air, yet none had any effect on him.

  Overhead, the sky grew darker and the wind rose to a shriek.

  "How much time do we have?" Delain asked.

  "Less than three minutes," Gawl said.

  Both men mounted their horses and tore past the main gate toward the town of Stewart Vale.

  The first clap of thunder caused both the mercenaries and the creatures to flinch. It seemed to come from directly over their heads. They could see that Shakira and Mathew were locked in some sort of titanic struggle. The bolts of light she was sending against him tore away enormous chunks of earth and sent shock waves through the ground.

  The commanders had long since given up trying to urge their men forward. All were watching in fascination as the battle unfolded.

  Mathew Lewin finally moved. Exhausted from his ef­forts over the last few days, his strength was fading. He knew it was now or never.

  Somewhere, in a long forgotten cavern built by Mathew Lewin's ancestors, the needle on a gauge moved. Sporadic at first, it steadied itself and began to climb. A half mile away from the main complex, a series of orange lights that traveled along the center column of the An­cients' machine suddenly in
creased in intensity. The giant crystal that rose out of the ground near the laboratory and disappeared into the ceiling took on an angry red glow, throwing back the surrounding darkness. After a minute a second gauge began to register, and then a third, as Mathew drew more power into himself. A nimbus of light appeared around him.

  The tremor was barely noticeable at first.

  When the Vargothans and Orlocks felt it, they stopped talking and looked across the valley in confusion. Seconds later another tremor coursed through the ground.

  The next was stronger than the first two. Two miles away, Gawl and Delain felt the vibration communicate it­self through the ground and they looked toward Balengrath.

  When the trees along the edge of the valley began to topple over, no one on the field was able to fathom what was happening. A few of the mercenaries started moving back toward the river, but their commanders ordered them to stand their ground. The tremor grew into a rumble and a terrible groaning sound could be heard coming from the earth itself.

  Mathew Lewin finally dropped his shield and sank to his knees, his head bowed.

  Shakira was nearly beside herself with glee. The hu­man was spent, she thought. "Victory," she hissed.

  Then Mathew raised his head and their eyes locked.

  On either side of the valley two giant crystals erupted from the ground. And a bolt of blue light shot from them tearing into Orlocks and the Vargothan armies. When the two columns of light connected it felt like someone had suddenly opened the door to a giant furnace. ,

  At the east and west two more crystals erupted at the far ends of the valley and a series of explosions began that moved with frightening speed directly toward where Shakira was standing. She never saw them coming. The first one obliterated her, and Mathew was hurled back­ward. He hit the ground heavily.

  Those of the enemy who had survived seemed frozen in place.

  The tremors then became so violent that men and Or­locks were knocked to the ground. And when the valley floor dropped by several inches, they began to scream. It continued falling away, and the screams took a long time to stop.

  When Delain, Gawl, and Armand returned to Balengrath, they were speechless. A deep canyon now stood where a valley had once been. The earth's groaning continued for some time before silence settled over Stewart Vale. It was late in the afternoon.

  EPILOGUE

  Devondale

  Spring came early that year to Devondale. The ice floes that drifted on Westrey Stream gradually grew smaller and smaller and eventually disappeared alto­gether. Green buds appeared on the trees and new sprouts pushed their way up through the ground in the flower beds on the square.

  Mathew sat under an oak tree and reread the last line of a letter he had received that morning. It was from Akin Gibb. His friend had accompanied Teanna back to Nyn-gary. He wrote that the princess was doing well, and ac­cording to the doctors, her injury was almost completely healed. She was compensating for having one hand as well as could be expected. She also sent her regards and invited them for a visit.

  It was strange, he reflected, that a princess and a com­moner should have taken to each other as well as Teanna and Akin had, but Teanna was far from an ordinary woman, and he was far from an expert in such matters. The image of them together brought a smile to his face.

  On the lawn, Lara and Bran were playing with each other, and Mathew leaned back against the bench and watched them.

  After the battle, Gawl had returned home to his beloved Sennia along with Jeram Quinn, to set up the court system he promised his people. James had left for Mirdan. News drifted back that Edward Guy had been killed during the battle.

  No one seemed to know what had become of Rowena.

  Collin Miller was laid to rest behind the church. Delain attended the funeral. Mathew made it a point to visit the grave whenever he came to town. Lara did, too, always bringing fresh flowers. The last time they visited, she and Bran placed two letters on the grave. Neither offered to tell him what was in them, and he didn't ask.

  Daniel Warren also came home to Devondale to re­cover from his wounds, at least for a while. Delain re­warded him by placing him in charge of building a new astronomical observatory in Anderon. It was a project that would take more than two years to complete. According to the letter he sent back, he had taken a house in the city and was getting to know Anderoh. Like Teanna and Akin* he also urged Mathew to come and visit. t

  Father Thomas and Ceta Woodall were formally mar­ried after the battle. The priest recovered from his wounds and resumed his duties in the local church. He even took up teaching fencing again. The classes were well-attended by the boys in the village. Every now and then Mathew stopped by to help. So far, Bran had shown no interest in the sport, but there was no rush. Eventually, Lara came over to sit with him on the bench, and they watched their son doing somersaults on the lawn. She slipped her hand into his and rested her head on his shoulder.

  Bran appeared to be a perfectly healthy little boy. Only Mathew knew that his son was able to work the ring. A few experiments one night left no question about it.

  As the Guardian had predicted, people did seek him out. Some curried favors and some simply wanted to meet him or ask his advice. When they did, he handled the sit­uation as best he could. Most were deferential; a few were not. Fortunately, the ones who weren't were in a distinct minority or too afraid of him to press matters when he turned them away.

  Mathew folded Akin's letter and put it back in his pocket. It was a pleasant, mild day, and the square was alive with people. Hints of honeysuckle floated in the air. He tilted his head back and looked up through a network of branches into a cloudless blue sky. They would soon be covered in leaves.

  New beginnings, he thought.

  He recalled his last conversation with the Guardian. It was possible the day would come when he would have to make the decision they spoke about, but for the time being his views of humanity remained the same—hopeful.

  SO Ends the Last Book of The Fifth Ring

  MITCHELL GRAHAM

  was born in New York City and is an attorney in Florida. A former member of the U.S. National Fencing Squad, he represented the U.S. in a number of competitions around the world and won more than thirty-five individual titles in the sport, placing in the top five more than one hundred times over the course of his career. In addition, he holds a doctorate in neuropsychology from the University of Miami. The author of The Fifth Ring and The Emerald Cavern, Mr. Graham lives in Miami with his fiancee. You can visit his website at www.mitchellgraham.net.

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