Pug and Tomas exchanged guilty glances again. Then Macros said, “Still, there’s nothing to be done, and no gain from recriminations. At least you got here on time.”
Tomas’s eyes narrowed. “On time? You knew we were coming!”
Pug said, “Your message to Kulgan and me said you could no longer read the future.”
Macros smiled. “I lied.”
Pug and Tomas were both mute in astonishment. Macros stood up and began to pace. “The truth is when I penned my last missive to you, I could see the future, but now I really can’t anymore. I lost the ability to know what was to happen when my powers were stripped away.”
“Your powers are gone?” said Pug, understanding at once what a staggering loss that would be to Macros. Above all others, Macros was the master of magic arts, and Pug could only imagine what it would feel like to be suddenly stripped of that which gave definition to your being, your existence and nature. A magician without magic was a bird without wings. Pug locked eyes with Macros for a moment, and they both knew there was a bond of understanding.
In a lighter tone, Macros said, “Those that put me here couldn’t destroy me—I’m still a tough old walnut—but they could neutralize me. Now I am powerless.” He pointed to his head. “But I’ve my knowledge and you’ve the power. I can guide you like no other in the universe, Pug.” He took a deep breath. “I can gauge the situation based on superior information to that which you presently possess. I know more of what faces us than anyone in the universe, save the gods. I can help.”
“How did you come to this place?” asked Pug.
Macros motioned for them to sit and they did. To Ryath the mage said, “Daughter of Rhuagh, there is game, though scant, upon this island of plants. If you are clever, you shall not starve.”
The dragon said, “I shall hunt.”
“ ’Ware the limit of the protective shell I’ve erected about the Garden,” warned Pug.
“I shall,” answered the dragon as she took wing.
Macros looked at the pair and said, “When you and I closed the rift, Pug, you directed shattering energies for my use. As a by-product of that business, I was suddenly a beacon in the black to that which strove to pierce the barrier between worlds.”
“The Enemy,” said Pug.
Macros nodded. “I was seized and a battle ensued. Fortunately, as powerful as what I face is, I am…was not without powers of my own.”
Pug said, “I remember watching you, in the vision upon the Tower of Testing, turning aside the warped rift that threatened to allow the Enemy to regain that universe.”
Macros shrugged. “You live long enough, you learn a few things. And I may be unkillable.” The last was said with a note of regret. “In any event, we battled for some time. How long I cannot judge, for, as you’ve no doubt noticed, time has little meaning between worlds.
“But at last I was forced to take a stand here in the Garden, and my powers were limited. I could not quite reach the City, for there I have means to augment some of my powers with clever devices. So we battled to a stand-still, until my powers were stripped from me and the trap was set. Then the Enemy destroyed the bridges and left. So I was forced to wait until you arrived.”
“Then why didn’t you say something in your last message?” asked Pug. “We could have come sooner.”
“I couldn’t have you two coming after me before it was time. Tomas, you needed to come to terms with yourself, and, Pug, you needed the training only the eldar could give. And I’ve used the time to some good purpose. I’ve healed some wounds and”—he pointed to his staff—“I’ve even taken up wood carving. Though I don’t recommend using rocks as tools. No, everything had to move at its proper pace. Now you are fit weapons for the coming battle.” He looked about. “If we can manage to escape this trap.”
Pug regarded the glowing shell above their heads. Through it they could see the stars, but there was something odd in the way they appeared, as if they flickered in odd rhythms. “What sort of trap have we encountered?”
“The most clever sort,” said Macros. “A time trap. The moment you set foot upon the Garden, it was activated. Those who set it are sending us backward in time, at the rate of one day’s movement backward for each true day’s passing. Right about now, you two are sitting upon the dragon looking for me, I should think. In about five minutes, you’ll be battling the black dragon. So on and so forth.”
Tomas said, “What must we do?”
Macros seemed amused. “Do? At present, we are isolated and rendered helpless, for those who oppose us know we did not defeat them in the past, for nature puts limits on such paradox, so our only hope is to break free somehow and return to our proper time…before it is too late.”
“How do we do that?” asked Pug.
Sitting again upon the rock, Macros rubbed his beard. “That’s the problem. I don’t know, Pug. I just don’t know.”
TWELVE
MESSENGERS
Arutha watched the horizon.
Companies of horsemen galloped toward the gate, while behind them the sky was thick with dust. Murmandamus’s army was marching on Armengar. The last of those coming from the kraals and steadings were reaching the gates, with herds of cattle and sheep, wagons loaded with crops, all lumbering into the city. With the decline in population over the years there was ample housing for everyone, even space for livestock.
For three days Guy, Amos, Armand de Sevigny, and the other commanders had been leading skirmish parties to slow the advancing columns while those called to Armengar reached the city. Arutha and the others had ridden out with them from time to time, lending aid when possible.
At Arutha’s side, Baru and Roald watched as the last company of horsemen to quit the field before Murmandamus’s host came thundering out of the dust. Baru said, “The Protector.”
“One-eye’s cutting it close this time,” said Roald. Behind the dashing horsemen, goblins on foot and moredhel cavalry followed closely. The dark elves quickly left their goblin allies behind as they chased Guy’s company. But just as they overtook the last rider, archers from another company wheeled and began shooting over Guy’s men, raining arrows down upon the moredhel. They broke and retreated and both Armengarian companies were again dashing for the gate.
Arutha spoke quietly. “Martin was with them.”
Jimmy and Locklear came hurrying along, Amos a short distance behind. The former sea captain said, “De Sevigny says that if anyone is going to make the run to Yabon, they have to leave tonight. After that, all the patrols in the hills will fall back to the redoubts upon the cliff tops. By midday tomorrow there will be only Dark Brothers and goblins in the hills out there.”
Arutha had at last agreed with Baru’s plan to carry word south. “All right, but I want some last words with Guy before we send anyone.”
“If I know One-eye,” said Amos, “and I do, he’ll be standing by your side within minutes of the gate’s closing.”
True to Amos’s prediction, as soon as the last stragglers were safely through the gates, Guy was upon the wall studying the approaching army.
He signaled, and the bridge across the moat was retracted, slowly disappearing into the foundation of the wall. Looking down, Roald said, “I was wondering how that would be taken care of.”
Guy motioned toward the now unbroken moat. “A drawbridge can be lowered from the outside. This one has a winch below the gatehouse which can be operated only from there.” He said to Arutha, “We have miscalculated. I thought we’d face only twenty-five thousand or perhaps thirty.”
“How many do you judge?” asked Arutha.
Martin and Briana came up the stairs as Guy said, “Closer to fifty.”
Arutha looked at his brother as Martin said, “Yes, I’ve never seen so many goblins and moredhel, Arutha. They’re coming down the slopes and out of the woods like a flood. And that’s not all. Mountain trolls, entire companies. And giants.”
Locklear’s eyes widened. “Giants!” He th
rew Jimmy a black look as the older boy elbowed him quiet.
“How many?” asked Amos.
Guy said, “It appears several hundred. They stand a good four or five feet above the others. In any event, if they are scattered about in equal numbers, several thousand have come to Murmandamus’s banner. Even now the bulk of his army is still in camp north of the Vale of Isbandia, at least a week away. This coming toward us is only the first element. By tonight ten thousand will camp opposite our walls. Within ten days there will be five times as many.”
Arutha looked out over the wall in silence for a while, then said, “So what you’re saying is you cannot hold until reinforcements arrive from Yabon.”
“If this were any normal army, I’d say we could,” answered Guy. “But past experience tells us Murmandamus will bring some tricks to bear. By my best guess he’s allowed only four weeks for sacking the city, otherwise he won’t have enough time to cross the mountains. He’s got to flood a dozen lesser passes with soldiers, reform his army on the other side, and move straight south to Tyr-Sog. He can’t move west to Inclindel, for it would take too long to reach the city and dispose of the garrisons before reinforcements arrive from Yabon City and Loriél. He needs to establish himself in the Kingdom quickly, to ready for a spring campaign. If he tarries here even more than a week beyond that schedule, he risks the possibility of being caught in the mountains with early snows. Time is his biggest enemy now.”
Martin said, “The dwarves!”
Arutha and Guy looked at the Duke of Crydee. Martin said, “Dolgan and Harthorn moot at Stone Mountain with all their kin. There must be two, three thousand dwarves there.”
Guy said, “Two thousand dwarven warriors could tip the balance until Vandros’s heavy foot can cross the mountains from Yabon. Even if we can only hold up Murmandamus for an additional two weeks, I think his campaign will have to be aborted. Otherwise it’s likely he’ll have an army stuck in the Yabon Hills in winter.”
Baru looked from Arutha to Guy. “We’ll leave an hour after nightfall.”
Martin said, “I’m going with Baru and will travel to Stone Mountain. Dolgan knows me.” With a wry grin he added, “I’ve no doubt he’d be loath to miss this fight. Then I’ll go on to Yabon.”
“Can you reach Stone Mountain in two weeks?” asked Guy.
“It will be difficult but possible,” answered the Hadati. “A small band, moving quickly…yes, it is possible.” No one needed to add “barely.” All knew it meant better than thirty miles a day.
Roald said, “I’d like to try as well. Just in case.” He didn’t say what, but everyone knew it was against the possibility that either Martin or Baru would not survive.
Arutha had agreed to Martin’s going with Baru, for the Duke of Crydee was only slightly less gifted traveling through the hills than the Hadati, but the Prince didn’t know about Roald. He was about to say no when Laurie said, “I’d better go as well. Vandros and his commanders know me, and should the messages be lost, we’ll need to do some convincing. Remember, everyone thinks you’re dead.”
Arutha’s expression darkened. Laurie said, “We all made it to Moraelin and back, Arutha. We know what it’s like to travel in the mountains.”
At last the Prince said, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but I don’t have a better one.” He looked out at the approaching army. “I don’t know how much I believe in prophecy, but if I am the Bane of Darkness, then I must stay and confront Murmandamus.”
Jimmy and Locklear exchanged glances, but Arutha preempted any volunteering. “You two will stay. This may not be the healthiest of places in a few days, but it’s a damn sight safer than scampering across the mountain ridges through Murmandamus’s army at night.”
Guy said to Martin, “I’ll make sure you have some cover for a while. We’ll have enough activity until dawn in the ridges behind the city to cover your escape. Our redoubts above the city still control a good portion of the hills behind Armengar. Murmandamus’s cutthroats won’t be behind us in strength for several days. Let us hope they’ll assume everyone is heading toward the city and won’t be too careful in looking for those heading in the other direction.”
Martin said, “We’ll leave on foot. Once we’re free of patrols, we’ll appropriate some horses.” He smiled at Arutha. “We’ll make it.”
Arutha looked at his brother and nodded. Martin took Briana by the arm and left. Arutha knew how much the woman had come to mean to Martin and realized his brother would want to spend his last hours in Armengar with her. Without thinking, Arutha reached out and placed a hand upon Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy looked up at the Prince and then followed his gaze to the plain before the city, where under clouds of rolling dust an army approached.
—
Martin held Briana closely. They had retired to her quarters for the afternoon. She had left word with her second-in-command she was to be disturbed only in case of grave need. Their lovemaking had been frenzied at first, then gentle. At the last they simply held each other, waiting as the moments slipped by.
Martin at last spoke. “I must go soon. The others will be gathering at the tunnel door into the hills.”
“Martin,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I just wanted to say your name.” She studied his face. “Martin.”
He kissed her and tasted the salt of tears upon her lips. She clung to him and said, “Tell me about tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Martin felt a sudden, unexpected confusion. He had labored to honor her request in not speaking of the future. His elven-tempered nature offered patience, but his feelings for her demanded commitment. He had put aside the conflict that resulted from this contradiction and had lived for the present. He softly said, “You said we must not think about tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “I know, but now I want to.” She closed her eyes and spoke softly. “I told you once I was a commander, privy to knowledge most of the city are ignorant of. What I know is that we most likely will not hold this city and must needs flee into the hills.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “Understand, Martin, we know nothing save Armengar. The possibility of living somewhere else never occurred to any here until the Protector came among us. Now I have faint hope. Tell me about tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Tell me of all the tomorrows. Tell me how it will be.”
He nestled down into the covers, gently cradling her head upon his chest, feeling a hot flush of love and urgency rise up within himself. “I will get through the mountains, Bree. There is no one who can stop me. I will bring Dolgan and his kin. That old dwarf would take it personally if he weren’t invited to this battle. We’ll hold Murmandamus at bay and ruin his campaign for a second year. His army will desert and we’ll hunt him down like the rabid animal he is and destroy him. Vandros will send his army from Yabon to bolster yours and you’ll be safe. You’ll have time for your children to be children.”
“And what of us?”
Ignoring the tears that coursed down his cheeks, he said, “You’ll leave Armengar and come to Crydee. You will live there with me and we will be happy.”
She cried. “I want to believe.”
He gently pushed her away and lifted her chin. Kissing her, he said, “Believe, Bree.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. Never in his life had he thought he could feel such bittersweet happiness, for to discover that his love was returned was a joy shrouded by the shadow of coming madness and destruction.
She studied his face, then closed her eyes. “I want to remember you this way. Go, Martin. Don’t say anything.”
Quickly he rose and dressed. He silently wiped away the tears, turning his feelings inward in the elven fashion as he prepared to face the perils of the trail. With a long last look at her, he quit her chambers. When she heard the door close, she turned her face into the covers and continued to cry softly.
—
The patrol moved up toward a canyon. It had ridden out as if making a final sweep of the area be
fore retreating behind the upper redoubts that protected the cliffs above the city. Martin and his three companions crouched down in the shelter of a large rock formation, waiting. They had left the city by the secret passage from the keep that cut through the mountain behind Armengar. Reaching a position along the patrol’s route, they hid in a narrow draw a short distance from the canyon. Blutark lay silently, Baru’s hand upon his head. The Hadati had discovered the source of Armengarian indifference to his possession of the dog. It was the first time a Beasthound had survived its master in the memory of those of Armengar, and as the dog seemed to accept Baru as his master, no one objected.
Martin whispered, “Wait.”
Long moments dragged by, then the soft footfalls coming out of the darkness could be heard. A squad of goblins hurried by, moving with no light and little noise, as they shadowed the route of the patrol. Martin waited until they vanished down the ravine, then signaled.
At once Baru and Blutark were up, running across the draw. The Hadati jumped to the upper edge of the shallow wash and reached down as Blutark leaped. With a helping hand from the hillman the huge Beasthound cleared the rim of the small depression. Laurie and Roald sprang for the edge, followed a moment later by Martin. Then Baru was leading them along a naked ridge. For terrible long moments they ran in a crouch, exposed to the view of anyone who might look their way, until they could jump down into a small crevice.
Baru looked one way and the other as his companions landed beside him. With a curt nod he led them away, toward the west and Stone Mountain.
—
For three days they moved, making cold camp at first light, hiding in a cave or in a blind draw, until nightfall, when they would be off again. Knowing the way helped, for they avoided many of the false trails and other paths that would lead them away from the true route. All about them was proof that Murmandamus’s army was sweeping the hills, ensuring they were clear of Armengarians. Five times in three days they had lain in hiding as mounted or foot patrols passed by. Each time the fact of their hiding motionless, rather than fleeing for Armengar, saved them. Arutha had been right. The patrols were looking for stragglers heading for the city, not for messengers on the way out. Martin was sure that was not always going to be the case.
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