Axarandes regarded them for a minute. His aquiline features glowed in the light from the burning city. “Very well,” he acquiesced. “A courier will be sent to Silvanost. Would you two like the job?”
Vixa’s response was prompt. “No, thank you, General. I doubt they’d believe us any more than you did.”
He nodded, turned away. Vixa and Gundabyr remained, watching the fire consume the last of Brackenost.
Chapter 18
The Fortress Destroyed
The night was not yet over.
After the fire in the village had burned itself out, bringing the darkness of a summer night back to the gray walls of Thonbec, Dargonesti crept out of the river again and massed on the riverbanks. Keen-eyed Silvanesti sentinels spotted them and sounded the call to arms on their trumpets.
First to the walls were the archers. The garrison of Thonbec consisted of fifteen hundred warriors, three hundred of whom were some of Silvanesti’s most skilled archers. Though night shrouded the lower slopes of the riverbank, the archers showered death on the attackers. Stung by the hail, a band of fifty Dargonesti tried to rush the gate. Only half made it to the top of the hill, and none made it to the gate. The survivors broke and fled back to the safety of the Thon-Thalas.
“Hurrah!” a young sentinel shouted from the parapet. “They can’t bear up under our arrows!”
“Not surprising,” Vixa said dryly. She was tired and cross, wanting to sleep but not daring to. “They’ve never faced arrows before.”
The sentinel said excitedly, “We should sortie and strike them! With a hundred swords we could-”
“-reduce the garrison by a hundred,” Samcadaris finished. “Back to your post, soldier.”
“The Dargonesti are just feeling out your defenses. They’ve never fought a land foe before,” Vixa explained.
Long after the moons set, mere hours before dawn, it became very quiet. Axarandes, fresh from a well-deserved rest, came to the battlements with the dispatch he’d prepared for the Speaker of the Stars. He asked Vixa to read it, to check for factual errors regarding the might of the Dargonesti. She approved it all, and he sealed it in a deerskin wallet. Axarandes called for a courier, the fastest runner in Thonbec. The importance of his mission was explained to him, and the courier was lowered by rope over the east wall. Silently, he raced away from the fort, vanishing in the trees.
“I hope he makes it,” Vixa murmured.
“I’ll send a second courier in a few hours,” Axarandes assured her. “And another at midday. One of them will get through.”
A lookout atop the south tower sang out, “Turn out! Turn out! Something is happening in the river!”
All hands rushed to the west wall. By the time Vixa and Gundabyr reached the parapet the place was so crowded the dwarf couldn’t see anything but elven posteriors.
“What is it? What do you see, Princess?” he demanded.
Vixa wasn’t sure what she was seeing. The dark waters of the Thon-Thalas were rising. The surge was coming from the delta, not upstream. Water rose over the two stone docks, inundated the banks, and crept slowly up the hill toward the fortress.
A cold sensation settled in Vixa’s stomach. “General,” she whispered, “you’d better clear the walls.”
“Why? What sorcery is this?” he wanted to know.
“Just clear the walls!” she repeated.
The rising water writhed, and a gelatinous mass appeared on the surface. To the Silvanesti, it looked like a swarm of giant snakes emerging from the river. One of the snakes rose into the air, as high as the walls of Thonbec. The elves gaped. The snake-or rather the tentacle-was six feet thick and studded with bright yellow suckers. Though she had never seen this part of the monster, Vixa knew what it was.
“They’ve called up the kraken.”
Her whispered statement fell like a lightning bolt upon Gundabyr. “That does it,” he said flatly, then turned and ran.
More of the monster humped out of the water. The boneless kraken filled the river from bank to bank. Its terrible tentacles reached out of the river, grasping tree trunks for support. More and more of its whitish, translucent bulk spilled out of the water.
The archers, unbidden, peppered the kraken with arrows. They might as well have blown kisses. The wooden shafts made no impression on the slick, rubbery hide of the massive creature. A tentacle touched the foot of the fortress wall, coiled around it, retracted again. Another came, feeling the stonework with a delicacy strange for so massive a limb. A third arm grasped the rim of the high wall, bowling over a dozen Silvanesti warriors as an elf brushes ants from his sleeve.
Vixa couldn’t move. The dreadful sight kept her rooted to the spot, staring in horrified fascination. In the center of the monstrous mass of tentacles and flesh a single eye appeared, black as the Abyss and twice as wide as the gate of Thonbec. It glistened in the starlight, then she saw the immense organ swivel in her direction.
Five tentacles leapt up and grasped the parapet. Silvanesti attacked with sword and halberd, to no effect. The kraken’s limbs knotted, drawing the monster farther out of the water.
Axarandes was shouting orders. Oil was brought from the towers and dumped onto the monster’s grasping tentacles. Torches were cast. Though weak flames hissed, the sodden flesh of the kraken was nearly impossible to ignite.
They could smell the beast now. The fetid odor brought to Vixa’s mind her horrible first encounter with the kraken. She shuddered violently, and her terrified paralysis ended abruptly. Vixa grabbed the general.
“You can’t fight it like this! It’s too big, too powerful! Sound retreat, General! Save the garrison!” she shouted into his face.
Already, stones on the parapet were breaking off under the kraken’s grip. A half-dozen Silvanesti were crushed in one swipe as a tentacle thrashed against the south tower. The monster was halfway up the hill now, more of its arms reaching out to the fortress. Vixa ducked; limbs eight feet thick and two hundred feet long swept over their heads. Huge blocks of granite tumbled as the kraken tugged on the wall.
Axarandes gave the command. Trumpets sounded “Reform and retreat.” Silvanesti spilled off the wall and formed ranks on the far side.
Vixa searched for Gundabyr. The monster was raking the courtyard. Warriors tried to hold ranks, but the threat was too great. The disciplined Silvanesti soldiers broke and ran for their lives. Hundreds of elves raced for the landside wall, to squeeze through the smaller postern gate there.
Masonry fell around Vixa. She was nearly crushed by a four-ton wall block. The sky was growing brighter as dawn approached, and against this purple background she saw the south tower of Thonbec in the kraken’s grip. Screeching came from the giant suckers as they gripped the smooth stones. Then the grinding thunder of collapse sounded. The south tower slid into ruin before her astonished eyes.
The air was filled with dust, the pounding of toppling granite, the shrieks of injured and frightened elves. Vixa, shielding her nose and mouth from the flying dirt, ran for the postern gate, midway along the eastern wall. A tentacle lay in her path. Steeling herself, she clambered over it. It was cold and soft, like a mound of damp leather. It didn’t stir as she dropped down on the other side, but a gruesome sight met her eyes: arms and legs of crushed Silvanesti protruded from underneath. Vixa looked away and resumed running.
The postern was partially blocked by rubble. The Qualinesti princess wormed through a tangle of stones. An elf lay dead under a large fragment of the gate arch. Bending low to crawl by the obstruction, she recognized the dead Silvanesti. It was Kenthrin, one of the first three she and Gundabyr had met on the beach.
Vixa crawled through a small gap, tearing her clothes and scratching her face and hands on sharp edges. The postern gate was standing open. Staggering to her feet, she dashed through. Outside, all she could see were the backs of many Silvanesti, running for the woods. Gundabyr was nowhere to be found.
The kraken turned its attention to the north tower. As Vixa stumbl
ed away, she saw the same merciless grip enfolding that stout structure, with the same terrible result. Balif’s great fortress, built with skill and care a thousand years earlier, crumbled under the monster’s assault.
Vixa reached the line of trees, paused for breath, and looked back. Dargonesti warriors, their heads and shoulders sheathed in damp, turbanlike cloths, were marching up the hill, giving the kraken a wide berth. When they caught up with fleeing Silvanesti, they struck them down without mercy. Grinding her teeth in anger, the Qualinesti princess shucked off her cuirass and helmet. Alone, she couldn’t save those who were dying. All she could try to do was save herself. The heavy armor would only slow her now.
The forest east of Thonbec was an old one, of large, widely spaced oaks and yews. The way was clear for rapid movement. Vixa ran until her lungs were bursting. When she could run no farther, she leaned against a broad yew tree and gasped for breath. Shame rose hot in her breast, shame for her panicked retreat and for the ignominious defeat.
In the distance, the eastern sky brightened behind a tall cloud of gray dust, rising from the ruins of Thonbec.
Gundabyr’s early flight from the wall had been prompted not only by fear, but by his practical nature as well. He knew the power of the kraken. He knew there was nothing for a fellow to do in the face of such power but be elsewhere. Vowing to live to fight another day, the dwarf had fled.
When he reached the postern gate, he looked back. The tentacles of the kraken were gripping the riverside wall. Gundabyr was torn for a moment, wanting to go back for Vixa yet wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and that ocean-dwelling horror. He, like most dwarves, was a very poor swimmer because of his stocky body and heavy bones. The sight of the kraken had brought back all the old terror, when the monster had sunk his ship and he and Garnath had been captured.
The kraken’s tentacles swept the first elves from the battlement, and Gundabyr hesitated no longer. He ran down the east slope to the woods. The area was deserted. The Dargonesti hadn’t bothered to surround the landward side of Thonbec. They probably didn’t want to risk being cut off from the river.
Axe in hand, the dwarf plunged into the woods. His flight took him down this slope and up the next hill. As the eastern sky lightened to gold, he was forced to stop and catch his breath. On the bald crest of a hill, he turned to survey Thonbec. Nothing remained of the ancient fortress but an enormous mound of gray stone. A column of dust rose like smoke straight up in the still air. Real smoke from the sacked village of Brackenost made a thin plume next to the vast dust cloud.
Gundabyr leaned on his axe handle, chest heaving. He realized he couldn’t simply run away. He was too stubborn for that and, he had to admit it, he liked that young elf princess. She wasn’t nearly as stuck-up as most elves. Besides, if the Dargonesti were allowed to take over Silvanesti, no country on Krynn would be safe. He would have to go back. He had to find Vixa.
When his breathing came under control, he shouldered his weapon and started back down the hill. The return trip, not conducted at a blind run, was much slower. By the time Gundabyr reached the clearing where the east wall had stood, the morning sun was bathing the ruins of the fortress. There were no Dargonesti in sight. Many Silvanesti lay dead on the field, slain in flight by Dargonesti spears. He looked them over, thankful Vixa couldn’t be found among them.
The kraken was gone, presumably back into the sea, but its nasty smell still fouled the air. Gundabyr picked his way up the hill through the litter of broken stones and dead elves. He reached the top and could see a long distance in all directions. Nothing was stirring. No elves-of any nation-no sea monsters, not even any animals broke the unnatural quiet.
As the dwarf clambered down the north side of the ruins, all the while his mind was working. Where had the Dargonesti gone? They had taken the fort, or the kraken had, yet they’d left the site of their great victory.
The low sun blinded Gundabyr as he continued to search the ruins for Vixa. When he shielded his eyes against the glare, a thought came to him. Perhaps that was why the Dargonesti had departed so hastily. They wanted to avoid the sunlight. Taking this line of reasoning further, Gundabyr decided they were not likely to attack again until dusk at the least. Living in the ocean depths as they did, they were most likely unable to bear the direct heat and light of the sun. That could be a boon for the Silvanesti, and right now they needed any advantage.
He was satisfied that Vixa had not been killed at the fortress. Now, he just had to find her. His knowledge of Silvanesti geography was meager, but he knew the city of Silvanost lay upriver, on an island in the midst of the Thon-Thalas. Shouldering his axe, he started north, keeping a discreet distance from the water’s edge. No sense tempting the blueskins to try their luck during the day.
Near midday, when the sun was scorching his bare head, Gundabyr smelled smoke-a campfire, he thought. He slipped into the brush beside the river road and worked his way toward the source. Care was needed. He didn’t think the Dargonesti had taken to frying their fish these days, but he was a foreigner in Silvanesti territory and he’d seen enough elven prisons to last him several lifetimes.
Voices filtered through the foliage. He tightened his grip on his axe. The weight of it was comforting. Gundabyr caught a glimpse of movement in a clearing ahead. The odor of cooking was much stronger. It smelled like apples baking. His mouth watered.
“These will be ready soon,” said a familiar voice. Samcadaris?
“I hope so. The general is in a bad way. He needs food.”
Vixa! Popping out of a tangle of ivy, Gundabyr called, “Save an apple for me, Princess!”
The dwarf’s sudden appearance startled the group around the campfire. Vixa, Samcadaris, and four Silvanesti soldiers leapt to their feet. Gundabyr found arrows and swords aimed at his broad chest.
“Wait!” he cried, throwing up his arms. “It’s me!”
“Hold!” Vixa commanded. The warriors lowered their weapons. The Qualinesti princess shook her head. “Gundabyr, it’s good to see you, but it’s dangerous sneaking up like that.”
“My apologies!” He stepped out into the open. “I’m mighty glad to see you, too.”
“What happened to you?”
He briefly sketched his morning activities, including his return to Thonbec.
“And there was no one left alive?” Samcadaris asked grimly.
The dwarf shook his head. “Are you all that’s left?” he asked, gesturing around at the small group.
Vixa replied, “We scattered when the walls and towers came down around us. I found Samca here, and we picked up the others with General Axarandes.”
She cast a worried look upon the still figure that lay on a crude stretcher made from a cloak and two green saplings. A terrible wound showed on the general’s head. He’d been hit by falling masonry, Vixa explained.
“Will he live?” whispered Gundabyr.
“It’s very serious, but if we can get him to a healer soon-” Her voice trailed off, then she added, “Have you seen any Dargonesti?”
“Not this morning.” He told them his theory that the sea elves couldn’t bear direct sunlight. Vixa concurred.
“We’ve seen signs they’ve raided both sides of the river,” Samcadaris said. “We’ve encountered no farmers or fishers at all.”
They were camped on the outskirts of the extensive orchard country that surrounded Silvanost. Green apples, plucked from the trees, were all they could find to eat. The soldiers were cooking the fruit to make it more palatable. The little band crouched around the fire, digging browned apples from the ashes and eating the hot fruit gingerly.
Gundabyr watched Vixa for several minutes. She talked and even joked with the others, keeping their spirits up in the face of their crushing defeat. She herself looked surprisingly well, considering all that had happened. The dwarf commented on this.
“I’m on dry land,” she said simply. “It’s amazing what a difference that simple fact makes. Everything el
se can be dealt with.”
Samcadaris frowned. “I wish I shared your confidence, lady,” he said. “I’m not afraid of these blue-skinned warriors, but if they can command monsters of the deep, then all may be lost.”
Vixa swallowed a bite of warm apple. She pointed through the widely spaced trees to the river, visible as a sparkling ribbon at the bottom of the hill. “How wide would you say the river is here, Samca?”
“How wide? Maybe two hundred yards, two-fifty at most.”
“The kraken is more than a mile wide. I know. I walked on its back and mistook it for an island. I doubt it can drag itself this far from deep water. Even at Thonbec it was too large for the river channel and stayed in the much broader delta area. And once the sun came up, it went back to deep water with the sea elves. Silvanost is safe from it, I think.”
Samcadaris looked at the distant Thon-Thalas. “Thank Astarin for that, at least.”
“What we really need are horses,” Vixa said, rising. “We need to take a warning to Silvanost with all possible speed.”
The elf captain managed a smile. He stood and dusted his hands. “I can do something about that, lady.”
He went to General Axarandes. Vixa and Gundabyr followed. They could see the general’s thin chest rising and falling as he breathed. Samcadaris knelt by his commander, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Sir? My lord Axarandes?”
Under a bruised brow, the general’s eyes slowly opened. “Samca,” he rasped.
“Sir, we need horses. We must get to Silvanost as quickly as possible.”
“Sent … couriers.”
“Yes, sir, I know,” Samcadaris said patiently. “But we don’t know if they got through. And you, my lord, are in need of a healer. Your wound is very serious.”
“I should be dead. My citadel pulled down like a wattle hut, elves of Silvanesti fleeing in panic … you should have left me in the rubble.”
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