Goddess Worldweaver sc-3

by Douglas Niles

  “I’ll find you soon!” she promised, then pulled away. “This way,” she said to Darann and Konnor.

  “Thanks, friend,” Konnor said to the guard as the trio started down another hall.

  This one opened into a wide chamber, lit by numerous coolfyre chandeliers, and Darann felt her nervousness rise again. This was the throne room! Greta led them forward, and they saw that they were on a side platform that was itself the size of a large banquet hall, raised twenty or thirty feet above the truly expansive hall of the Seer dwarf king.

  They moved past a pile of folded linens, then around a compartment where mops and buckets were stacked. Clearly this was some kind of housekeeping area, Darann deduced. Because it was raised so far above the main floor, they were able to advance almost to the edge without exposing themselves to view from the floor below.

  There was a stone wall, about waist height, at the edge of the servants’ balcony, and when they made their way to this, they were concealed by shadows and that wall but able to see some of what was happening in the great room below.

  The first thing Darann thought was that this chamber was the last place her father had been before he died. So much history had been made here… and, lately, so much corruption had been worked, to steer that history. Would that ever change? She resolved that she would do everything in her power to see that it did.

  She looked around. The arched ceiling was at least a hundred feet overhead. Stone columns stood out from the walls, twelve of them rising all the way to the top, merging into the arches that all melded together in the center of the high vault. At four places around the room, including where they stood right now, there were raised platforms, allowing for a good view of the wide hall. These upper alcoves were all cloaked in shadow, though the main floor of the chamber was bathed in cool, white light.

  And it was that floor that drew their attention.

  Darann could see King Lightbringer, seated upon his high throne. A half dozen royal guardsmen, dressed in the ceremonial golden helms denoting palace duty, were arrayed around his seat. Aside from a few servants standing close to the walls, there was no one else visible in the great room. Darann quickly noticed that the guards and the king seemed to be directing their attention to the main doors. As she looked that way herself, those lofty portals were opened, and a servant in red livery stepped forward to announce.

  “Lord Nayfal comes from the battle-and he brings two prisoners!”

  Darann stiffened as the hated nobleman strode arrogantly forth. It was all she could do to restrain a cry of shock when she saw the prisoners, as her brothers were prodded forward by four armored Seers. From their mud-caked uniforms, she guessed that all of this group had come here directly from the ghetto.

  Konnor gasped beside her, and when his hand went to his sword, she laid restraining fingers gently upon his arm.

  “Your brothers!” he whispered urgently. “They’re captive!”

  “I know,” she replied. “And we’ll get them free-but we need to wait until the time is right!”

  Greta looked at them in alarm, raising her finger to her lips in a gesture for silence. Darann nodded and crouched down so that she could listen and see right over the rim of the wall.

  “Your Majesty!” proclaimed Nayfal, sweeping into the room with a flourish. “I am grateful that you consented to see me at this late hour. I bring word from the ghetto-important word!”

  “Very well, good lord,” said the king with a sigh. “Tell me why you summon me here thus.”

  “I have here, sire, nothing less that a proof of the most base treachery-treachery lurking in an esteemed family, plainly writ for all of Axial to see.”

  Aurand started to say something and was silenced by a brutal cuff from one of the guards, a blow from the hilt of his sword to the young dwarf’s skull that staggered him. With a groan, Aurand slumped to his knees, but not before Darann could see that his face was bloody, with one eye swollen shut.

  “Who are these dwarves?” demanded the king, this time speaking with a little determination in his voice.

  “Brothers, sire… the two sons of Rufus Houseguard. They were captured in the midst of a mob of goblins, having taken up arms against your own Royal Guard. As I said, clear proof of treachery.”

  “Borand Houseguard, I know you-I thought-as a loyal soldier, one of my ferr’ell masters. Is this true?” asked King Lightbringer, fixing the elder brother with a stern glare. “Explain yourself.”

  “Sire, I am innocent of treason,” Borand declared. “My brother and I were working to prevent treachery, to uncover truths that we might bring to your attention.”

  “Cease your impudence!” Nayfal snapped, taking a step toward the prisoner.

  “Lord Nayfal!” the king barked. “Let him speak.”

  “Of course, sire,” replied the nobleman with a deep bow. “But beware of his sweet words. All these men, here, will testify that he was taken in league with the goblins. There is blood on his blade-the blood of your own guardsmen!”

  “What is the treachery of which you speak?” Lightbringer said, addressing Borand.

  “There is a plot at work, sire… a plot to convince you that the goblins are our enemies. It began forty years ago, with the attempt on your life… the scheme that claimed the life of Cubic Mandrill. And it continues to this day, with the murder of the dwarfmaid beyond the ghetto wall. That was not the act of goblins, Your Majesty.”

  “I have heard these allegations before,” said the king impatiently. “But no one has brought proof.”

  Darann stood and found herself speaking loudly, her words carrying through the great hall. “I have proof, Your Majesty!”

  The king looked up, shocked, while guards shouted in alarm and started running toward the balcony.

  “Guards, to the stairs!” cried Nayfal, blanching. “Sieze her! Beware another attempt on the king’s life!”

  “Stay!” roared King Lightbringer, and the lord, the guards, the prisoners, Darann, and her companions all froze at the force of that one word. The monarch squinted up at the balcony as Darann stepped to the top of the stairway leading down to the floor. “I know you, too,” Lightbringer said. “You are Darann of clan Houseguard, wife of the hero Karkald,” he said. Then he frowned. “These would be your brothers.”

  His scowl deepened. “Your brothers are prisoners, and your family is accused of treachery. Strong proof is required against these charges.”

  “I bring proof and a witness, sire,” she replied, as Greta and Konnor came up to stand beside her. As the king waved them forward, they descended toward the floor, and an escort of guards flanked them as they approached the throne.

  “And who are these?” asked the king.

  “Konnor is another of your loyal soldiers, sire, one of your Rockriders. He has seen to my safety, when there have been those who would have killed to prevent me coming here.”

  “I see. And the maid?”

  “This is the daughter of Cubic Mandrill, Your Majesty. She knows the true story of how he died.”

  Darann addressed the king, but her eyes were on Nayfal as she spoke. The lord’s face twisted in fury at her words, and he looked about frantically, no doubt seeking some escape from the net closing about him.

  “Your father was a great hero,” said the king to Greta. “I did not know he left behind a child, else I would have taken care to see that your needs were met. I am sorry to learn this so late.”

  “I have done fine by myself,” Greta replied calmly. “And I seek no bounty on the name of my father. I tell you truly: he was no hero-he was a traitor who schemed to fix our people’s hatred against the goblins.”

  “Liar!” shouted Nayfal, growing pale. He drew his dagger and lunged forward with shocking speed. “I will silence your slanderous tongue.”

  Konnor reacted faster than Darann-or their guards-could see, stepping forward and knocking the lord’s weapon hand to the side. Nayfal twisted away and raised the weapon for another strike when the king�
��s words held him.

  “Let her speak, my lord. And know that such impetuous displays do you no favors!”

  Darann saw that Greta was shaking, and she stepped forward to put an arm around the younger dwarfmaid. “Show him the coin.”

  Still trembling, Greta drew the leather bag from her belt pouch and tugged at the drawstring, finally opening it. She stepped forward, Darann at her side and Konnor behind, while alert Royal Guards closed in from either side.

  “It is a forgery, sire! An attempt to smear my name!” cried the nobleman, hurrying forward as well. Apparently sensing that the king was not listening, he lapsed into worried silence, his fingers caressing the hilt of his dagger.

  “Your majesty, this was given to my father as payment for his part of the scheme. He was to discover the goblins in your palace. They were exactly where Lord Nayfal told him they would be, since the lord had paid them to be there. My father arrested them, but when Lord Nayfal came to claim the prisoners, a scuffle ensued. Cubic Mandrill and the goblins were killed. The lord was credited with saving our king, and my father was labeled a hero for uncovering a plot, when in fact he was paid for his presence at that exact time and place.”

  King Lightbringer took the golden disk and studied it for a long time. Lord Nayfal started to stammer something, but the monarch gestured him to silence. Finally, he raised his eyes, his gaze falling directly onto Nayfal.

  “Why?” The word was short, as abrupt as the fall of an executioner’s axe. “Why would you betray me, betray us all, thus? Do you know the evil that has been wrought in the last forty years, because I trusted you?”

  Nayfal shook his head frantically. “That’s just it, Your Majesty. There is no good reason for me to go to such lengths!” He stared pleadingly at the king, but for a second his eyes shifted to Darann-and in that second, she understood.

  “He did it because he lied about the battle at Arkan Pass-and that means Karkald is alive. He must be in Nayve!” she declared suddenly. “The marshal must realize this; that’s why he has turned the whole of your attention inward, sire! It is always the goblins that must be controlled, or defenses prepared against the Delvers massing just beyond the range of our light beacons! Who has fought your efforts to commission the Worldlift more urgently than Nayfal? It is because his secret will be revealed if ever we open up travel between our world and Nayve!”

  “More lies!” shrieked Nayfal.

  Once again the dagger was in his hand. In a bestial fury, he charged at Darann. This time Konnor met the blow with his own sword drawn-a quick slash that cut the lord’s wrist to the bone. Nayfal screamed and stumbled back, and the infuriated Rockrider closed, knocking him to the ground with a punch. Shaking with rage, Konnor stood over the fallen lord and pressed the tip of his blade through the tangle of the noble dwarf’s beard.

  “Tell the truth!” he snarled. “Or by all the Seven Circles, I’ll cut your heart out. What happened to Karkald?”

  Nayfal started to blubber a denial, then screamed and gurgled as the sword sliced the skin of his throat. “No-I will tell!” he shrieked.

  Konnor eased the pressure of his weapon enough to allow the dwarf to draw a gasping breath. Blubbering, Nayfal squirmed, finally speaking when the sword pressed down again. “Magic-he was taken by blue magic after Arkan Pass… the Delvers, too… all of them raised up… the blue magic came and surrounded them-and they were gone!”

  “To Nayve!” Darann repeated with certainty, her hopes rising to heights they had not attained for decades. “That’s where they were taken!”

  “Yes-at least, it stands to reason. The barrier itself is blue magic,” Borand declared. “It comes from the same source.”

  “Your Majesty!” Nayfal croaked. “Do not be misguided-the goblins-”

  “The goblins have suffered and died to bring you this information, sire,” Darann interrupted. “Make no mistake; hundreds of them have perished in the last few hours, and more are being killed every minute-in Your Majesty’s name!”

  “But they killed a dwarfmaid-poured hot oil over her!” the king protested. “A brutal murder!”

  “Brutal indeed, but who committed that murder, sire?” Darann retorted. “Did you see the goblins do this-or did Nayfal tell you that’s what happened?”

  “Of course I didn’t see,” the king snapped. “But I had the report-from…” His glowering gaze fell upon the hapless lord, who had risen to his feet. “Another lie, my lord, isn’t it?” Lightbringer drew a deep sigh. “A lie that has resulted in more innocent bloodshed.”

  He glowered, sitting straight in his throne, seeming to grow as they looked at him. “You, more than anyone else, has crusaded against the malignance of treason. Yet now it seems that you are treason’s most able practitioner. To this end you have caused to be murdered an innocent dwarfmaid, a palace guard-if he was corrupt, he was corrupted by your hand-and countless goblins. You have much blood on your hands. There can be only one sentence for such treachery.”

  “No!” the lord screamed. He broke away, starting toward the back doors to the great hall.

  “Stop him!” the king snapped, as some of his guards drew their swords and the archers, near the door, raised their crossbows. “Immediately!”

  It was over in another instant, the twang of a crossbow spring shockingly loud in the lofty chamber. The echoes lingered even after Nayfal, shot through, fell to the floor and lay still.

  18

  Roads to High Circles

  When the wyrm made his High Flight

  All the cosmos held its breath

  From The Last Ascent of Regillix Avatar by Sirien Saramayd

  The elves of Barantha reached the Ringhills first, but it was the trolls, arriving at that natural barrier a full day later, who made the real difference in preparing the defenses. Jubal spoke to Awfulbark even as the lanky forest dwellers were spreading wearily along the outer slope of the hills, and that worthy king responded with an energy that the Virginian found deeply gratifying.

  “We can dig a ditch and pile up a dirt wall, sure,” Awfulbark declared. “Where you want?”

  “Up the slope a short distance,” the man explained. “So that the ghost warriors have to start climbing the hill before they get to the ditch. But close enough to the bottom that archers on the wall will be able to shoot arrows into the enemy troops as they gather at the foot of the hill.”

  He showed the trolls where to collect picks and shovels, the tools that continued to arrive by the wagonload from King Fedlater’s miners on Dernwood Downs. Immediately Awfulbark’s warriors set out along the line and wasted no time in displaying their great capacity for dirt moving. Natac had selected the forward slope of the first ridge for the position, some hundred feet above the tabletop expanse of dry plains extending Nullward from this section of the hills, and Jubal had the elves mark off the proposed excavation with flags and pickets.

  “Dig it deep enough so that the bastards will fall into the ditch,” he ordered, demonstrating at the barrier of the sharp-walled trench. Then he marked out the sample of the wall, the obstacle the enemy would have to attack as soon as they crawled through the ditch. “And make this high enough and steep enough that the bastards will roll right back down into the ditch again!”

  The Argentian elves arrived as the work was beginning, and both Tamarwind and Kelland set their warriors to helping. For the most part the elves were mere bystanders, however, as the trolls attacked the ground with relentless chopping pickaxes, then scooped away the loose rubble with a churning of shovels. Jubal watched as, minute by minute, the long ditch grew deeper, the matching wall climbing higher above the rugged slope.

  Within another forty-eight hours, the fringe of the rocky rise was scoured by a trench and adjacent breastwork some thirty miles in length. Each hilltop along that winding path had been turned into a palisade in its own right, surrounded by an earthen wall, with a flat platform excavated as a mount for one of Gallupper’s batteries. Unfortunately, the line was so long that not eve
ry hilltop could be defended with one of the lethal guns, and even those thus equipped had but one. That weapon would have to be wheeled into position for shooting forward or toward either flank.

  Jubal’s troops were deployed thinly along that long line, but he was pleased that so much of the approach could be covered. As he strode along the crest of the wall he was reminded of a great fortification on Earth-he had learned about it, seen pictures in a book, when he had been a child in Virginia. It was a wall thousands of miles long, protecting the entire northern border of China; it was not hard to imagine that, given a little more time, Awfulbark’s trolls would be able to create a barrier of similar extent.

  This was a useful realization, for he knew that the hills presented a more than four-hundred-mile circumference around the entire span of Circle at Center and its great lake. If the ghost warriors moved to one side or the other, then the defenders would have to follow the same course. Fortunately, many parts of the range were precipitous and jagged, with lots of sheer cliffs and deep gorges. He knew that those were places no army would try to traverse.

  Other places were more vulnerable, however, and if the enemy changed the direction of its advance, he and Natac would simply have to move their army to one side or the other to continue to block the approach to the city. It was a tactic eerily similar to that employed by Robert E. Lee in his defense of Richmond. Jubal tried not to dwell on the fact that, for the Army of Northern Virginia, these maneuvers had eventually, perhaps inevitably, resulted in defeat.

  For the first day the scouts reported that the attackers were coming across the plain like a flood, a great dark stain across the ground. The ghost warriors were loosely formed into columns, but each of these was a mile or more across, composed of a seemingly endless number of plodding, purposeful killers. The dust raised by these massive formations formed a self-sustaining cloud in the sky, and by Lighten of the second day this murk was visibly approaching the Ringhills, an ominous storm.