Kagonesti lh-1

by Douglas Niles

  Sir Blayne stood stiff and tall, and for several moments Ashtaway wondered if he would be able to control himself. Finally he exhaled and bowed his head stiffly. "You show us the way to Sanction, and our courage will be displayed before all."

  Ash accepted the reply. "I will go to the ridge crest to sleep tonight, and return with the dawn. You should be ready to walk, then, if haste is of importance." "It is," Sir Kamford declared.

  The Kagonesti turned and vanished into the night, seeking his high ledge for a night's rest. He had a strong feeling that most of the knights were not disappointed to see him go.

  Chapter 17

  Sanctionheight

  "That's the pass?" Sir Kamford was frankly dubious, he stood with Ashtaway on a promontory of rock, staring up at two sheer mountain faces. A narrow notch between them showed a gap of smoky sky, dark clouds roiling and seething in a fiery, unnatural manner. "Beyond lies the place you call Sanction," Ash confirmed. 'The clouds you see are not born of the sky, but of the earth-they are belched from the three great mountains of fire." The elf looked up at the dark, heavy overcast, feeling as though the air itself oppressed him. This grim, omnipresent blackness was one reason, perhaps the strongest, that he had never liked this place.

  Behind them, the file of knights waited in the shelter of a narrow canyon. For five days they had followed the paths of the Kagonesti, as Ashtaway had led them through the trackless heart of the Khalkists. Now, with the final barrier before them, the wild elf wondered how they would fare.

  In truth, he had been favorably impressed by the knights. Of course, many were arrogant and rude, even hostile, but he was honest enough to realize that many Kagonesti were the same way. During the walk, he had remained separate from the bulk of the knights, though he spoke with Sir Kamford frequently, discussing possible routes and sharing some of his knowledge of these rugged mountains. He made particular effort to avoid Sir Blayne, for he sensed the sparking of anger within himself whenever their eyes so much as met.

  The fact that all of these warriors obeyed the bidding of a single captain, Sir Kamford Willis, he found intriguing and, he had to admit, quite useful. To have an attack commence when all the fighters were ready, rather than when a single warrior could no longer contain his bloodthirsty enthusiasm, would be an effective tactic. He could see easily that human customs allowed an army to perform encirclements, traps, ambushes, and even retreats with an order and precision that the wild elves had never known.

  Also, he had had a chance to examine the armor and weaponry of the knights, and found it to be remarkably impervious to harm, wear, or age. Of course, the keen head of Ash's axe, too, was made of a strong, hard metal, and it had lasted through many generations of Kagonesti. Still, such weapons were rare among the wild elves, while every one of these knights had a great steel sword, as well as a lance, a dagger long enough to be called a short sword, and a sturdy shield. The elf suspected that, between his shield and plate mail armor, a knight would be virtually invulnerable to the attacks of a single warrior.

  He wondered what the knights felt about these wild places through which he took them, and about the wild elf who showed them the path. Did they distrust him? Fear or admire him? He couldn't know, naturally, and a voice within Ashtaway told him that he shouldn't care. Certainly most Kagonesti-and every previous Pathfinder-would have been disinterested in the opinions of a human. Why should it matter to Ash? He couldn't answer the "why," but he knew that it did matter.

  Of course, some of the humans-most notably Sir Blayne-had been sullen and hostile, but for the most part the riders had expressed wonder at the places to which he had taken them. They were a brave lot. Never had the humans showed any trepidation over the prospects of the upcoming attack.

  Now, however, he would know for sure. Ashtaway started along the trail, hearing Sir Kamford fall in behind. In moments, the clopping of many hooves told him that the whole column of knights had begun to move along that narrow, steeply climbing route.

  As they moved out of the fragrant pine woods onto the barren slopes of the steep mountain, they followed no trail to speak of. It remained for Ashtaway to select a path among the boulders and precipices, crossing back and forth on the slope to minimize the incline, working gradually upward instead of striking directly toward the pass.

  Sir Kamford followed, though he moved slowly in order to give his horse time to place each hoof with care. The other knights came in file behind their captain, and as Ash worked his way carefully up the slope, he stopped frequently to give the horsemen time to keep their nervous steeds in a close order. The horses whinnied and kicked, but, with calm cajoling, the men kept them moving upward.

  It occurred to the Kagonesti that if a single dragon were to fly overhead and discover the knights on the mountainside, the entire mission could be ended in the space of a few heartbeats. He shook the concern away, hoping that Sir Kamford's belief-that the dragons had all flown westward for the decisive battle of the war-was correct. There was nothing they could do about it in any event, since the treacherous climb would have been quite impossible in the darkness.

  Ash used his hands to cling to a rough outcrop of rock, but as he worked his way around the obstacle he saw quickly that the horses would never be able to follow in his immediate tracks. Instead, he released his grip and backed along the trail for several steps. A narrow chute led upward, allowing him to scramble up to the relatively flat surface of a shoulder, where there was space enough for a dozen horses to stand and rest. He lent a hand to Sir Kamford, and with a clattering of loose rocks, the knight persuaded his mount to scramble up after him.

  The elf moved onward and up while the captain of knights caught his breath. One after another, the human knights and their jumpy horses clambered onto the broad surface. When the shoulder's flat space became too crowded, Sir Kamford led his charger after the elven guide, with the next knights falling into file behind him. In this fashion, each of the humans and horses had a short chance to breathe, but then quickly rejoined the steady, upward progression of the march.

  Soon afterward, Ash reached a section of loose rock. The pressure of his moccasin began a sliding, clattering cascade, and the elf sprang backward while a mini- avalanche of stones spilled down the smooth mountainside-fortunately to the side of the precariously balanced knights and horses below. Only when the tumbling had ceased did he again advance, this time finding the footing more secure.

  He heard a shout of alarm and the panicked whinnying of a horse. Ashtaway looked down the slope and saw several knights hauling and straining on the lead of a great black charger. The animal's hooves had slipped from beneath it and it lay on the rocks, kicking frantically at any human who came close. The Kagonesti was certain that the beast was lost, and he only hoped that the riders would have the good sense to abandon it before any of the other mounts, or even a man, slipped downward to join it.

  To his frustration, the knights wasted precious minutes coaxing and soothing the animal, helping it to get its hooves underneath its belly. Ash couldn't mask his surprise when the horse at last scrambled to its feet and once again resumed the climb, pounding upward as if anxious to make up for the delay.

  The minutes dragged into hours, morning's light swiftly waning into late afternoon, and still the file of dismounted horsemen crept up the mountainside. Slipping and staggering frequently, the men somehow continued without a dangerous fall. Progress was slow and careful, though the knights instinctively picked up the pace as they sensed that they would, indeed, make it to their objective.

  Ash reached the notch of the pass with several hours of daylight remaining. Towering heights rose to each side, and smoky fog obscured much of the valley before him. He remembered that the descending trail curved around the slope of a great mountain, and that the city itself didn't come into view until one walked some distance from the pass. Still, it was the perfect gathering place for the knights, since the geography and the air itself combined so effectively to screen them from observation.<
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  As the wild elf looked at the winding column, which still extended nearly halfway to the bottom of the slope, he hoped that all the knights would reach the summit before nightfall rendered their task impossible. Still, as the file straggled into a long, sinuous formation, he wasn't at all sure that they would.

  The summit of the gap was a broad saddle between two towering mountains. Here, one by one, the knights gathered in the shelter offered by several overhanging rocks. The humans stroked and spoke to their nervous steeds, while the horses stared in wild-eyed fear at the barren landscape, at the specters of smoke and steam spewing from several of the nearby summits. The elf was impressed by the way in which each rider seemed to understand his own horse's fears-the men clapped their steeds on the neck, or patted their muzzles and withers, soon able to restore their animals' calm.

  Though Sanction was not visible from the notch of the pass, the knights, like Ashtaway, saw that this fact worked to their advantage. Steadily the humans assembled, resting and grooming their mounts without having to worry about observation from below.

  "Which way to the city?" asked Sir Kamford when several dozen knights had gathered in the pass.

  Ashtaway pointed. "The trail down is wider and more gentle than the climbing route. If you move slowly and stay alert for sentries, you should be able to spy your target without being observed."

  "Very well." Sir Kamford, accompanied by Sir Blayne and several other knights, left their horses with the others and went off to perform a reconnaissance on foot.

  One by one, the rest of the knights made their way into the cold, bare shelter of the pass. Each human reacted differently-some with obvious relief, others with swaggering bravado, still others with a pause for reverent thanks to the gods of good. All of them looked at the tattooed figure of the wild elf, with wonder, respect, and perhaps a little bit of suspicion on their faces. Yet the men then looked past, staring into the smoldering valley below, as if reflecting with amazement that their mission was on the brink of decision.

  Dozens of knights still remained on the mountainside when Sir Kamford returned. The knight's mustache bobbed up and down, and his eyes flashed with enthusiasm as he joined Ashtaway beside the trail.

  "It couldn't be more perfect. The plateau on this side of the city is virtually unguarded. They assume any attacker would have to fight his way through Sanction to reach it!"

  "And is this plateau worth attacking?" wondered the elf.

  "Undeniably! I saw large wooden bins where they store the coal for their forges, and the great barns, with their doors open, were full of grain. Those stockpiles would keep the army in the field over the entire winter if they get delivered-and if we're successful, they'll burn for days once we give them the spark. And they've built huge depots for weapons-spears, arrows, and the like. Those, too, we'll put to the torch! Then there are the corrals- huge things, really. They've got horses, mules, and oxen, a thousand of each if they have a pair. I don't doubt for a moment that we'll scatter the lot of them to the four winds!"

  "I am glad the route might prove useful. Let us hope that the rest of your men can reach the crest by nightfall."

  Sir Kamford, with a worried frown, looked over the tail end of his column. "Let's step up the pace there, lads!" he called. "Don't want to get stuck down there in the dark, now do we?"

  Grumbling, the knights who were within earshot pressed ahead, while the last few struggled as quickly as they dared to close up the gaps. Even so, the sun had set before the final knights reached the pass, though enough daylight remained for even these last humans to see the path barely a few feet in front of their faces.

  'That's the lot!" cried Sir Kamford when the full company of men and horses had gathered in the pass. The warrior's elation had continued to grow with each new arrival, and now Ashtaway marveled at the keen energy that seemed to possess his human companion.

  "You will attack tomorrow?" asked the elf.

  "As soon as we can get down there-I want to start the descent before sunrise," Sir Kamford asserted.

  The human looked again at the sweeping mountainside they had ascended during the day, then turned to fix his dark eyes on the wild elf's face. "I wasn't at all sure we could do it, you know. When first you showed us the path, I thought we were doomed. Now here we are-and without losing a single horse on the climb!"

  "Would that the battle be so kind," Ash remarked.

  Sir Kamford's expression sobered. "It won't be," he acknowledged. "But, thanks to you, we'll have the chance to strike a solid blow in the name of the Oath and the Measure."

  Chapter 18

  Rank of Charge

  In misty purple light, an hour before dawn, Asbtarcay started down the smooth path toward Sanction. The knights were already active in the mountain camp, brushing and feeding the horses before cinching saddles and bridles into place. As if sensing the impending battle, the animals snorted softly and pawed the ground with barely contained tension. Still, secrecy was paramount. By the time the elf had moved fifty paces from the camp, he could hear no sounds of humans or horses.

  Instead, he was bombarded by a sensory onslaught from the city that gradually came into view. Sanction expanded to fill the horizon as steady progress brought Ashtaway around the great bulk of the volcano. Even in the predawn darkness the city was alight, illuminated by glowing fissures in the bedrock. Flaming rivers of lava spewed heat and fire into the air, washing the entire, crowded valley in erratic pulses. Now, as dawn diffused the harsh, fiery illumination, Sanction promised to remain a place more of smoke and shadows than of daylight.

  One of the Three Smoking Mountains-the peaks the knights called the Lords of Doom-belched forth a river of molten rock. This flowage blazed and hissed across the face on the opposite side of the valley, and Ash could see the course of the lava stream as it sputtered through the heart of the city.

  Despite the destructive forces raging around the valley on the ground and in the air, to the wild elf the city of Sanction seemed an ancient, timeless place-a place where the works of nature ruled with far more authority than the audacious constructs of humankind.

  Ashtaway got a clear view of the plateau, with its smooth eastern approach and the scattered clusters of buildings, corrals, and storage depots. As he moved farther, he saw the teeming slums come into sight, buildings sprouting like weeds on every patch of level ground and some places that were very steep as well. Narrow, twisting streets forced their way through these packed structures, and the wild elf could only wonder at the kind of desperation that would compel free creatures to dwell in such squalid, tightly packed surroundings.

  Many towering edifices of stone rose among a tangle of lesser buildings, and wide avenues cut through the chaos to link numerous teeming alleys and lanes. The whole of the crowded metropolis blocked the valley between two huge volcanoes, with the broad expanse of the Solamnic Plain extending beyond. Where the city met the plain, the high wall of stone had been erected, and though it was pierced by numerous gates, Ash could see that it presented a daunting obstacle to anyone attempting to attack the city from the west.

  Finally the mighty temples, grand structures that flanked the city on three sides, came into view. Even these left him cold. How could their grandeur hope to compare to the majesty of even the smallest mountain peak? Beyond the farthest temple stretched the high wall, studded with towers, bristling with parapets, screening Sanction against any army that dared to approach it from the plains. For the first time, Ashtaway began to see the true potential of Sir Kamford's plan, suspecting that the knights might meet with bold success even though they attacked a place where, all told, they might be outnumbered by something greater than one hundred to one.

  The mountain trail led down from the east, and from his vantage the elf got a better look at the broad clearing on this side of the city. Many corrals had been erected there, and though some were empty, others held large herds of horses or oxen. He could also see the tents and barns, lined in neat rows, where Sir Kamford
had said they would find the accumulated weapons and stores of the Dark Queen's reserve.

  Ashtaway wondered briefly about his own presence here, on the fringes of a place that would soon become a savage battleground. On his previous visit to the pass, when he had discovered the trail, he had ventured only far enough through the saddle to get a look at the city. This was not a place he had any desire to explore. Yet even with that memory-and the same feeling now, only much stronger-he continued to creep toward Sanction's festering and polluted fringes.

  Certainly, the knights no longer needed the Kagonesti's help to reach their battle. The trail down the mountain was smooth and wide, aided by the fact that the slope was far more gradual within Sanction valley than without. Still, Ashtaway never considered departing before the charge. He had been impressed by these serious warriors with their great steeds, and he was very interested in seeing their attack.

  He knew that the column of horsemen must have started down the trail, though they remained out of sight behind him. Sir Kamford was determined to commence his attack with the earliest hours of full daylight, while sleep still dulled the senses and impeded the reactions of the snoring garrison troops.

  Nearing the bottom of the slope, Ashtaway felt his scalp tingle with a sudden sense of alarm. He wondered, briefly, what might happen if the dragons came back. It did not take a great deal of imagination to see that, if Sir Kamford was wrong about the strength of Huma's campaign and several of the serpents returned to Sanction to keep an eye on their precious reserves, a military disaster was inevitable.