"Bring this man inside," he said to the soldier without preliminary.
"But he could be a spy."
"Then he's an exceedingly poor one to have ridden here under a flag of truce, wouldn't you say?"
"Maybe we should wait for my sergeant," the soldier persisted. "I seen you talking to Prince Delain and all, but—"
Father Thomas leaned forward. "Now, soldier."
The soldier hesitated for a moment, then motioned toward the tavern with his head. The man looked at Father Thomas, raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly. He turned to the soldiers holding his arms and pointedly looked down at their hands. Both of them let go and stepped aside, allowing him to pass.
Once inside the tavern, Father Thomas led Mathew, Collin, and the visitor to a private room at the rear. He closed the door behind them and turned to face him.
"I am Siward Thomas," he said. "Unfortunately, neither the prince nor any of his staff are here right now. What can I do to help you?"
"Your courtesy is appreciated," the man said with a slight bow. "My name is Darias Val. Regretfully, I can only speak with the prince himself. Please believe me when I say that it is a matter of the greatest urgency. Many lives are at stake. I pledge by the honor of my family that I speak the truth. How long ago did he leave? I must know."
"I cannot give such information to you, General Val."
Val blinked at the use of his title, then pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. "Then I am afraid that all is lost."
Father Thomas sat down at the table directly across from him and looked at the man. "Surely, there must be some—"
He never got the chance to finish his words. A low humming sound interrupted him. It filled the room and seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. In seconds the hum increased to a whine, followed by a flash of white light against the wall. The light began to shimmer and move, eventually forming itself into the shape of a man. When the noise stopped, Karas Duren stood there looking at them.
Father Thomas was on his feet in an instant, followed by Darias Val. Instinctively, Mathew backed away, reaching for his sword. Then he realized that Duren had not moved. There was something odd about his body. It wasn't completely solid. In fact, light seemed to pass through it. Behind Duren, soldiers and horses could be seen walking past the opening of a tent. To Mathew, it was almost like looking out of a window. It reminded him of the images he had seen on board the Wave Dancer. The others noticed the anomaly too. Duren was there but not there. The heavy lidded eyes searched slowly around the room for a moment, before coming to rest on Mathew.
"You are too late. The trap is already closed." The voice had a dry sound, like the crackle of dead leaves under foot.
'Too late for what?" Mathew asked.
A small cold smile appeared on Duren's face, but the dark eyes remained fixed on him.
"Poor fool," Duren whispered. "Only at the end will you learn the power you have stumbled on. But power without knowledge is worthless. Surrender and I will be merciful."
"Merciful?" Mathew said. Coming from Duren, it was a strange word. "If you thought you could win, you wouldn't be talking to us now."
"You think you are strong enough to stop me, boy?" Duren said, his eyes boring into Mathew's heart.
"I don't want to fight you. But Elgaria isn't yours. You have no right to hurt people."
"No right to hurt people? Interesting words from one who strangled a helpless man to death with his hands."
Mathew took a step back. The sheer hatred emanating from Duren, apparition or not, was so palpable that he could almost feel it.
Duren saw his reaction and began to laugh. It was a frightening thing to watch.
"You have very little choice in the matter, as you shall soon learn. When I am through with you, you will curse your mother and father for having brought you into this world. And you," he said, looking directly at Darias Val, "see now the fate of a traitor, just as your people have seen."
Slowly, Duren lifted his right arm until what he was holding in his hand became visible. The head of Ra'id al Mouli stared back at them through lifeless eyes, his mouth open in a perpetual scream. Blood drained from his severed neck.
Everyone in the room recoiled in shock. Father Thomas closed his eyes, murmuring a prayer for the man's soul, while Darias Val's face turned to stone. Though his stomach convulsed at the sight, Mathew forced himself not to look away. Assailed by what he was witnessing, and by Duren's hatred, it took a supreme effort not to react. He was frightened, but determined to stand there whatever it took.
His father's words about fear and being afraid came back to him then. When Bran, large and stolid, told him he had been afraid during the war, Mathew had been confused and shaken by the admission. It was the same conversation he recalled that night in the forest when the Orlocks attacked. He remembered the rest of it now. After taking a long draw on his pipe, his father had told him that heroes and cowards were both afraid. The difference lay in what they did about it. Duren wanted fear, fed on it, but he was not going to get any more of it out of him. Even if his actions amounted to nothing more than sheer bravado, Mathew resolved to stand where he was.
The cold, malevolent smile continued to play across Karas Duren's face, and he turned his attention back to Mathew, locking eyes with him.
"I will have it," he whispered. "I will have it all."
Then he was gone. Only the reverberations of a distant chime hung in the air, eventually becoming too faint to detect.
"You were right about the news not improving his disposition," Collin said.
Darias Val's face was ashen as he sat back down in his chair again. "It appears that I am too late." He shook his head sadly.
"Too late for what, General?" Father Thomas asked.
"To warn you."
"Warn us?" Akin asked. "Warn us about what?"
"Your soldiers have gone to meet the Orlocks," Val said. He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable denials. "You need not bother telling me otherwise, I already know this to be true. When they get there, they will find no one. The Orlocks will be here very shortly, and Elgaria will be caught in a vise when Alor Satar arrives. Their army is not far behind me. Nyngary and Cincar will join them, striking you from the east. And Marsa d'Elso is, I fear, worse than her brother. I am truly sorry."
"Then why are you here to tell us this?" Father Thomas asked.
"Because Duren is a madman. He seeks only death, not victory. He doesn't simply want your country, he wants to obliterate it from the earth itself. Ra'id al Mouli realized this. The letter I bear is an offer of peace between our nations."
"Ra'id al Mouli? The king of your country?" Akin asked.
"Kalifar," Val corrected. His voice sounded tired. "None of this matters now. That was his head Duren was holding. All is lost."
"Not yet," Mathew said.
The commander of the armies of Bajan turned to look at the boy Duren had addressed. Val saw that he was a tall young man with a slender frame, still filling out as he grew to manhood. The blue eyes were bright and intelligent, but why Duren should have spoken to him as he did was a puzzlement.
"It cannot be stopped," the general said. "Your army has already left."
"Then we'll just have to get them back," Mathew said. "If the armies from Nyngary and Cincar were coming here by ship, they're not going to arrive."
Val heard the statement. The boy made it without arrogance or mockery. Searching his face, he found no deception, only a very serious-looking young man.
"How could you possibly know such a thing?" Val asked, not unkindly.
"He's telling the truth," Akin said from across the room.
Val looked at both of them and frowned. "Even so, the Orlocks will be here before your army can return. It would take time to carry the message to them, and time again for them to ride back. By then it will be too late."
Mathew paid scant attention to what Val was saying. There was something strange in
what Duren had just done.
Power without knowledge. That's what Duren had said to him.
Something was bothering Mathew. He had been unable to put his finger on it while Duren was speaking, but there was something curious about what just happened—apart from being overly dramatic. Then it came to him. Thus far, with the exception of him being able to link with Duren, his sister, or the other woman on the one occasion he saw her, the ring had only been effective when he was able to see what he was trying to manipulate. He was fairly certain Duren couldn't have known where he was, because he didn't know himself until a few minutes ago. True, Duren might have touched his mind through the ring link, but this was not the same thing. And then there was the noise. No, he decided finally. It was different— something he didn't know about. What Duren did had nothing to do with being able to identify where he was. Power without knowledge. But how?
Maybe the simplest approach is the best? he thought. Perhaps all I need is a picture in my mind. Mathew closed his eyes and concentrated on forming an image of Delain. Conversations were still going on around him, but after a few seconds they faded into the background, replaced by a low hum.
Later he was able to describe it as looking into a pond where the water had just been muddied. He saw the shadowlike shapes of horses and men. They were moving, though indistinct. Then the waters abruptly cleared.
Three men were riding at the head of a column of soldiers. Delain was in the middle, on the same dun-colored horse Mathew had seen the previous day. Gawl was next to him, and Jerrel Rozon was on a white horse opposite the prince.
There were sounds now—horses snorting, low conversations, and a woodland bird singing off somewhere in the distance. He saw Rozon draw his. horse up short and raise his arm, halting the column. Gawl and Delain did the same. Mathew knew they were reacting to the noise, the same way everyone in the room had before. At the same time, he was aware that Father Thomas and Val had stopped talking. Delain and Rozon were looking around in an effort to identify where the sound was coming from. A number of soldiers, confused by what was happening, did the same thing. Gawl made no move other than to draw his sword and wait.
There were trees lining both sides of the road they were on, and Mathew picked one nearest to them. Almost at once the same flash of white light reappeared, and he felt rather than saw himself standing in front of the tree. The truth was, standing there made him feel silly and self-conscious, since he had absolutely no idea of what to do next. Nevertheless, he reasoned if he could hear them, they ought to be able to hear him, so he started speaking.
"Delain, it's me, Mathew Lewin."
The Prince of Elgaria, who was looking in the other direction, let out an oath and spun in his saddle toward the tree.
"Mathew? What?"
"Listen, we have very little time. I don't know how long I'll be able to do this. You're riding into a trap. The Orlocks were there to draw you out. They're circling around to Tremont to catch you from behind. Duren's going to attack from the front and try to pin you between them. You have to get back here."
"How is this possible?" Delain asked. "And who are those people behind you?"
"I don't know how it's possible," Mathew answered
honestly. "Duren was just here, or at least his image was. I'm only imitating what he did. I can't explain it."
"We would have seen it if the Orlocks were on the move. And as I recall, you were the one who suggested that we take the initiative this morning."
"The Orlocks have found a way through the underground caves that connect their camp with Tremont, my lord," Darias Val spoke out.
Mathew motioned to him. Val hesitated only a second before stepping closer to the window of light floating before him.
"General Val?" Delain said, incredulous.
"Indeed. I am just as mystified as you are, my lord, though I am pleased you remember me. It has been more than ten years since we last met. Ra'id al Mouli sent me to you ... though I must tell you he is now dead ... murdered by Duren. He charged me to carry a letter to you— this letter," Val said, withdrawing the envelope from his shirt pocket. "It bears an offer of peace between our countries."
Delain stared at the letter he held and then glanced at Jerrel Rozon before he answered.
"How do I know that I will not be riding into a trap? The last time I checked, we were enemies."
"You do not know, but I swear for the second time this morning upon the honor of my name and family that I am telling the truth. Duren is a rabid dog. Would to God Ra'id had seen this in time."
Confusion clouded the prince's face as he tried to understand what was happening.
"Is that Siward Thomas with you?" Gawl's deep voice asked from his saddle.
"It is, my friend, and I confess to being just as confused by all this as you are," Father Thomas said, stepping forward to stand next to Mathew.
"How do we know this is just not some trick of Karas Duren's?" Gawl growled.
Father Thomas's brows came together and there was a pause before he answered.
"A number of years ago in Baranco, there was a particular lady you had become friendly with. She had red hair and was ... ah . . . shall we say, quite a healthy girl. Unfortunately, she neglected to mention she was married. When her husband came home unexpectedly, there was. .. umm ... a disagreement. I think we can use that term. And you were wounded in the—"
"Yes, yes, exactly," Gawl interrupted. "That is certainly Siward Thomas, Delain."
Rozon leaned forward in his saddle and looked around the prince at Gawl, who was keeping his attention fixed on the road.
"You need to hurry," Mathew said. "I think we have very little time left."
Delain stared at the translucent images that had so strangely appeared to him for a full minute. Then the prince wheeled his horse around and shouted, "Elgarians, ride!"
Mathew broke off contact. The window he was looking through compressed itself, getting smaller and smaller until it was only a bright point of light. It disappeared as the same forlorn chime sounded from far away.
When he turned around, everyone was staring at him as though he had just grown another head.
"Stop that," he snapped. "I didn't ask for any of this, and I don't understand it any more than the rest of you."
Power without knowledge, a voice whispered in his head.
"So," Darias Val said, looking directly at the ring on Mathew's hand. "This is the source of Karas Duren's power. Both he and his sister wear the same one. Until just now, I thought it only an ornament."
"We can talk about it later," Mathew said. "Do you know how long we have until the Orlocks get here?"
Val nodded slowly. "It was planned that both our army and Alor Satar would strike the front of Elgarian lines on the eighth hour after midday." Val paused and looked out the window. "I'm afraid you do not have much time, perhaps three hours, no more."
"Where will they be coming from?" Father Thomas asked.
"I don't know the exact location of their caves. Orlocks are not forthcoming with such information. The plan was of their making. I only know that one of the caves lies to the southwest of the town. If possible, I would like to remain and fight with you."
"Against your own people?" Collin said.
Instead of replying, Darias Val smiled, showing a full set of very white teeth. "Never."
"Then what's so damned funny?" Collin asked irritably.
"I was amusing myself to think that the great and perfect lord of Alor Satar has made a small mistake."
"Mistake?"
"It is a custom among my people that when a Kalifar dies, the faithful honor him by observing a mourning ritual for a period of seven days." Val's smile became even wider and he crossed his legs, looking extremely smug.
Father Thomas blinked as the impact of his words sunk in. "Then?"
"My people will not fight while they mourn then-leader. It seems your odds have just gone up—assuming your legions can get here in tim
e. Otherwise, this is as good a day as any to die."
Father Thomas put his hand on Val's shoulder and said, "Thank you. We would be honored to have you with us. But if you will pardon me, there is much I need to do now."
Val nodded soberly. "I would accompany you and lend what little help I can."
"And you, my son," Father Thomas said, turning to Mathew, "is there anything that ring of yours can do to help?"
"I'm not sure. But I intend to try, Father,"
"That's all anyone can ask. Get Lara and Daniel and meet us at the north gate as fast as you can. If they're coming at us from the south, we'll make them fight then-way up the streets and alleys. The people who live here know the layout of their town, and the Orlocks do not." "A number of years ago in Baranco, there was a particular lady you had become friendly with. She had red hair and was ... ah . . . shall we say, quite a healthy girl. Unfortunately, she neglected to mention she was married. When her husband came home unexpectedly, there was. .. umm ... a disagreement. I think we can use that term. And you were wounded in the—"
"Yes, yes, exactly," Gawl interrupted. "That is certainly Siward Thomas, Delain."
Rozon leaned forward in his saddle and looked around the prince at Gawl, who was keeping his attention fixed on the road.
"You need to hurry," Mathew said. "I think we have very little time left."
Delain stared at the translucent images that had so strangely appeared to him for a full minute. Then the prince wheeled his horse around and shouted, "Elgarians, ride!"
Mathew broke off contact. The window he was looking through compressed itself, getting smaller and smaller until it was only a bright point of light. It disappeared as the same forlorn chime sounded from far away.
When he turned around, everyone was staring at him as though he had just grown another head.
"Stop that," he snapped. "I didn't ask for any of this, and I don't understand it any more than the rest of you."
Power without knowledge, a voice whispered in his head.
"So," Darias Val said, looking directly at the ring on Mathew's hand. "This is the source of Karas Duren's power. Both he and his sister wear the same one. Until just now, I thought it only an ornament."
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0) Page 44
