“Nor can we lightly destroy it,” Fallawen said, sadly. “Too much would be lost. Yet that power must not go to the gurvani.”
“I’m starting to understand that.” Suddenly the Dead God’s fixation with Anthatiel made sense. With the city, the Scar Lands, and the Ghost Rock hidden below it, he could unleash untold horrors upon the kingdom. And the Alka Alon. Taking Anthatiel was not mere vengeance or spite. It had purpose. Shereul was playing a long game, and while his army was mostly dead, now, he had already partially won just by eliminating the city as a power in the war. If he could capture the Ghost Rock, then losing his grand army would be a small price to pay. “That doesn’t really change anything. You can stay here and guard the Hapaxalite until you get eaten by a dragon, or you can leave. I suggest you leave. Soon,” I emphasized, as the dragon bellowed again outside.
“I like this course not,” he said, flatly, looking out the window at the destruction. “If I leave my birthright, what shall I become? And what shall become of it?”
“It will endure even the stain of the Abomination,” Fallawen assured him, softly. “As will the Ghost Rock. Father, I beg you: order the evacuation. Save our people, so that we might return and reclaim our city one day.”
“My rebellious daughter counsels this?” he asked, mockingly. It occurred to me why Fallawen might have some problems with her father. This seemed like an old argument. “The daughter who left me – left us! – in our time of greatest need? Look what has happened to our home,” he lamented. “Would it have come to pass if you had just listened and did as I bid you?”
“Father, you know it would have! My . . . my independence from your rule has been gratifying, as well as sorrowful. I did not savor your anger or your pain. But I did seek study and wisdom, things which I could not have found here. But if you elect to preserve yourself and your people, if you give the order to leave the city and lead our people away, I will pledge my obedience. I will forsake all that you find objectionable in my life . . . just do not pursue a mad defense with no hope of success! Do not throw your life away, Father! You know Mother would not have favored you dying in vain, no matter what the cost.”
The mention of her mother turned the Alkan lord’s expression inscrutable. I could tell that was not an argument lightly brought up, nor one easily heard. I had no idea what had happened to Fallawen’s mother, but I knew she was dead and they both missed her.
Aeratas looked out the window, down on his burning, ruined city. The outrage and anger was more palpable in his human-sized form. He stared for several moments before sighing.
“I will relent. Only because of your mother. I will order our forces to draw back. We can begin the evacuation through the waypoints and other means. But there is still the matter of the secret of Anthatiel. The Ghost Rock must not fall into their hands. The secrets of our kindred for ten thousand years will be laid bare to them, if they do.” He looked over to his daughter, who was crying. Falwallan knew how hard this was on her father. “And I shall hold you to this pledge, daughter. You will obey me in all things, now. Go and secure the heirlooms of our house, so that we may flee for our lives with some attachment to our lost home.”
Fallawen nodded and left, catching my eye for one meaningful glance before she went.
“So, Spellmonger,” Aeratas said, turning back toward the window. “Just how shall I deprive the gurvani of the use of my city?”
“I have an idea,” I nodded, “but it will have to wait until the evacuation is almost complete. When your warriors are ready, I will do what is necessary.” I described my plan to him. He was impressed – not that it was a good plan, but that a mere humani had thought of it. He agreed it might work . . . and it had the added benefit of leaving at least some of his city intact. I could tell that Lord Aeratas was struggling with this idea, even now. I did my best to console him, but I could only imagine the sense of loss he was experiencing. If I had to do the same thing to Sevendor, I might have elected to stay and die in its defense . . . but I knew how Alya would have felt about.
“My lord, this city is beautiful, but it is just a city. Your people can retake it, rebuild it, and replenish it. But now they need your guidance and leadership to do so. Make what arrangements you will, but be expedient. That dragon will be here in a few short hours.”
“And where shall I go?” he asked, bitterly. “I was a lord of a mighty realm, and now I am just a beggar in the wilderness.”
“A beggar with friends,” I reminded him. “We will see to it that you and your folk are taken care of. Lady Fallawen is special to me, and I would not see her kinfolk suffer. Besides,” I said, casually, “I’m looking forward to the kind of vengeance an Alkan lord can manifest when he’s truly inspired.”
That caught his attention. The Alka Alon, culturally, aren’t very big on justice. They do have a passion for revenge, however. It’s all over their sagas. If Aeratas was going to be rescued from despair, it would be because he had a more satisfying place to go to.
“Revenge? Aye, for what they have done I shall see my revenge before I perish,” he vowed. “I shall see the gurvani rats driven away, and the Abomination destroyed. I will not rest until this task is done,” he said, solemnly. “For the honor of my city and for the love of my departed wife, I shall lead my people in this war against the gurvani, Magelord. I shall devote my life to it, if need be, a thousand years of relentless war if that’s what it takes. But I shall have my satisfaction,” he said, in a voice that kind of frightened me. He spoke with utter conviction, and I had no doubt at all that he would see good on his promise.
“I’ll be at the harbor, below,” I answered. “When you’re ready, join us there. We will be departing as soon as the last of your folk have left by the ways.”
“Minalan,” he said, as I turned to go. “Thank you. All of my kindred abandoned me, or found no way to assist. You brought aid at the moment of my need, against all hope. I was never kind to you or your folk. I must ask . . . why did you come? When it was not required?”
That was a big question. And there was little easy answer. I looked at the transformed Alkan, so man-like and yet still so alien from us. “Because it was what needed to be done,” I answered, at last. “I pissed off my king, endangered my people, and took a terrible risk, but if the Abomination is to be fought and defeated, the Alka Alon and the humani must stand together. We’ve both learned what happens when we underestimate Shereul. And we’ve both paid the price, lost our homes because of it.
“Well, I cannot abide that. We may be an immature and rustic folk, but we are valiant and we take honor in supporting our allies. The Aronin had faith enough in me to help when I was in need, and the Alka Alon have since helped us immeasurably. I could not allow your city to fall without at least trying to help.”
“Your folk are valiant,” he admitted. “Among many other descriptions. I admire that. Something that has been lost to my people, as we have withdrawn from the world and looked inward. There are some who consider such things atavistic or uncultured, but see what happens when a people ceases to practice the art of war,” he said, gesturing to the city. “We shall learn again. I pledge not to leave this humani style body until Shereul the Abomination is destroyed, and my realm is reclaimed and restored. This,” he said, touching his chest lightly, “is a body made for great deeds, strength, and valiance.”
“Then together we shall defeat them,” I agreed. “Or perish in the attempt.”
* * *
Down below, in the plaza next to the harbor, our people had established an effective beachhead camp. Kasari and Alkans patrolled the perimeter, keeping the increasing number of wandering gurvani at bay. While there was certainly some organized looting and fighting, the few thousands of goblins and trolls – and the occasional worm – were mostly wandering around in shock, fighting when they encountered resistance but otherwise bereft of leadership.
When the order came from Aeratas to withdraw and evacuate, the Alkans were visibly relieved. They had been
willing to stand and fight to the last Alkan for their lord and their city, but that was not their preference. Lady Fallawen used her waystone to begin sending them to safety. Lady Ithalia joined in, to speed the process, and soon the number of Alkans on the island decreased dramatically. She was sending them mostly to her grandmother’s home, the Tower of Refuge, wherever that was, but some were going to Carneduin or other Alkan homelands. And some she was sending to Sevendor.
During the evacuation, Dara and her squadron landed, the skyriders dismounted, and the giant birds flew to perch on the great arch, keeping a wary eye on the dragon in the distance. The second dragon had started to make its way across the lake toward its fellow, increasing everyone’s anxiety.
“It’s a mess out there, Master,” Dara said as she shook out her hair. “The whole place is crawling with soggy gurvani and trolls – a lot of trolls – and they’re looting the place bare. There’s a big mob of them getting organized about a mile to the west of this square. There are some shamans there, too, I could see. That’s where the attack will come from.”
“We’ll likely be gone by the time they get here,” I reasoned. “And after that, I don’t think they’ll be enjoying their conquest. You and your wing did outstanding work, Dara, and I won’t forget it. Get some water, eat something, and then get ready to be in the air again.”
“Again?” she whined. “We just got down! We’ve been flying for days, Master, I—”
“Just for a little longer, I promise. We’re going to send back most of our forces by the ways, too, and then we’ll go. But I’ll need your help scouting and such until then. Don’t worry, we’re almost done, here.” I looked out at the harbor, which was covered with floating dead gurvani, as far as the eye could see. “This place isn’t going to be wholesome for a while.”
“It’s even worse by air. The whole lake is covered with them. It’s . . . horrific,” she said, shuddering.
By late afternoon most of the Alka Alon were gone, as were most of the Kasari and other infantry we had brought. Making the transition to Sevendor was easier, thanks to the mountain of snowstone, so that was where we sent them. I warned Alya by mirror, after I assured her I had survived the battle, and she promised to see to them until I arrived. A few hundred of us still lingered in the harbor. Taren and a team he’d picked – including Tyndal – had tasked themselves with slowing the dragon’s approach, and after a few hours of daring adventure, which included Dara dropping boulders on the beast by air while Taren goaded it away from the Tower of Vision. It was now off to the west of the island, inhabited only by looting gurvani, and likely wouldn’t bother us. The other beast was approaching slowly, so it was no immediate threat.fr
I kept my strongest forces with me until the last. Bands of gurvani saw us and tried to attack several times, to their misfortune. As the odds changed against us, I wanted to ensure against mishap. Sire Cei and Terleman took charge of the defense while we continued the evacuation. Lord Aeratas made a point to secure certain treasures and artifacts from the city, and made other preparations against a long vacancy. He joined us as the sun was setting, signaling he was ready to depart. He was just in time, as the smell of a hundred thousand bloating bodies wafted from the frigid water.
Ladies Ithalia and Falwallan were nearly exhausted by that point. Using the waypoints is tiring, and while their facility with that mode of transport had grown, such mass transportations were still draining. When the last of the evacuees was transported away, leaving but a hundred of us in the city, they rested a bit.
It was eerie, this majestic city vacant save for its foes. The great stone spires and gently curving arches, the domes and the elegant edifices that delighted the eye were marred, now, echoing with foul language and the screams of the dying, not merry laughter and gentle song.
It was tragic. More tragic than if Castabriel had been sacked. I realized how shallow and mean humanity’s creations were, compared to the Alka Alon. Yet Castabriel itself was built upon the ruins of an Alkan city. Art is not forever. Even the Alka Alon were visitors, here. The stone beneath the city was a resource into the ancient past, revealing the innermost secrets of thousands, if not millions. While it was not an overt weapon, like a dragon, it posed a grave threat to us, should it be easily recovered. Aeratas had already secured it magically, protecting it to the best of his ability, before we left.
But the gurvani were not content to let us withdraw in dignity. As the day waned, they gathered together and became emboldened. A large band of them with many trolls – who had been spared drowning, if they were close enough to shore – burst into the square as we were making our final preparations for departure.
It was not overwhelming odds, considering who we were with. Sire Cei and Terleman rushed to defend us, and were joined by Taren and Tyndal, Azar and Bendonal the Outlaw. Onranion sprung into the fray, as did Lorcus, and soon trolls and goblins littered the street.
While my men handled the trolls, another band of goblins burst forth from another direction, forcing all of us to defend ourselves. I took up Blizzard and waded in myself, and things got heated. It was a desperate battle. We were exhausted, our reserves depleted, and the gurvani were desperate and enraged.
Lady Ithalia and Lady Fallawen stood back to back and used magic and their long daggers to defend themselves, but they were looking hard-pressed so I made my way there to assist. While keeping the gurvani off of them, and helping them slay the most persistent, I noticed that Lord Aeratas had been backed up against a wall by a dozen screaming goblins. He was defending himself admirably, but he was tired, and having a hard time keeping pace. The Alka Alon are adept, but fighting in a melee is a skill that has to be learned and practiced. If I hadn’t been occupied with as many goblins myself, I would have assisted, but I was too far away.
As many as we killed, there seemed to be more and more attracted to the fray. I realized that we might have lost our advantage, and then was too busy to think more strategically for a while, because a couple of shamans began lobbing spells at us. Lord Aeratas’ survival began to be in doubt as the goblins pushed his human-sized body down with several wounds, and began swarming over him.
That’s when a figure in a surcoat streaked across the plaza, greatsword flashing. Sir Ryff waded into the battle, attacking Aeratas’ assailants from the rear with deadly efficiency. The Riverlands knight was a strong man, and adept, and he was used to such melees. Soon he was helping Aeratas to his feet, dispatching the last of the goblins with the point of his sword.
“Will you all get in the godsdamned barge?” Wenek complained from the green and gold barge Azar had commanded “Or do you think they’re just going to give up?”
“Fall back to the boats!!” I called out, and then watched as a flurry of giant feathers descended from the sky. In quick succession the falcons clawed at the goblins, picking some up in their mighty talons and dropping them again from the air or just slashing away.
The interruption was just what we needed, and my men fell back to the barge. Sire Cei was the last to depart, throwing himself in just as we cast off. The huge dog who had rescued him from the lake was there to greet him, much to his discomfort, but in the end he relented and patted her massive head to calm her down. Lorcus shot a couple of nasty spells behind us, just to be difficult, then exposed his buttocks to the jeering goblins from the stern.
“It’s a tradition in his land,” I explained weakly to the frowning Alka Alon lord, when he asked about the action. Aeratas looked pretty battered, though none of his wounds seemed dangerous. Ithalia and Fallawen attended his wounds as he gazed at his fallen city.
“Who is the man who saved me?” he asked me, a moment later.
“Sir Ryff. He’s one of my vassals. A brave knight of the Riverlands,” I said, glancing up at the hopeful-looking man, who was crouched nearby, anxiously glancing at the Alka Alon.
“Brave, indeed. I owe him my life. One of the gurvani was choking me, and had he not intervened, I would have died.”
/> I introduced the two, much to Fallawen’s discomfort. The country knight was respectful and courteous, but his rough edges showed. It didn’t help that he was speaking to the father of the woman he admired.
“I owe you my life,” the lord said. “I have little to give, Sir Ryff, but if it is in my power, I would grant it.”
“I wish for nothing less than the hand of Lady Fallawen,” he said, swallowing harshly. “I have followed her to the ends of Callidore, and I’d do it again. There is no lesser woman I wish for my wife.”
“What?” Aeratas asked, clearly unaware of the knight’s affections for his daughter.
“What?” Fallawen asked, her jaw dropping in a most unladylike manner.
“What?” chortled Lorcus, in disbelief.
“I wish to take the maiden Fallawen as my bride,” he said, more boldly to all in the barge. “I am but a poor country knight, but all I have and all I am, I offer to her.”
“Father,” Fallawen began, when she could breathe again. “We need to—”
“Daughter,” Aeratas said, sternly, “I pledged to the man that if it was in my power, I would grant it.”
“But, Father, I—”
“Daughter, this man saved my life. If you were willing to pledge your obedience to save it, then certainly it has value to you,” he reminded her.
I watched Fallawen’s face contort into a mixture of emotion. Then it became placid. “I gave you my word, Father. I will . . . consider it,” she said, with great reluctance.
“Bah,” Aeratas said, almost human-like. “He will only live for a hundred years or so. It will be a good lesson for you. He is your vassal, Spellmonger?”
“His lands lie directly to the east of mine,” I agreed. I suddenly thought of that second snowstone outcropping I had been at pains trying to quietly secure. This could be my answer. “He holds them now as my tenant. I will give them to him in deed, as a present to the wedded couple. Further, I shall pay for half of a new castle built there, to receive his bride according to her accustomed manner. And a suitable residence for his father-in-law.”
High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series Page 61
