The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two)

by James Maxwell

"What about the others?"

  "They'll take days to extract, reassemble, and renew."

  "How many?"

  "We now have two hundred ironmen, fully activated and combat-ready. But buried in the ground is perhaps three times that number."

  Miro made a snap decision. "Captain? Send a message to Marshal Beorn. Tell him to send reinforcements, every man he can spare. Quickly!"

  The captain despatched a messenger and then looked up at Miro. "Are we holding here?"

  Miro nodded. "We're certainly going to try."

  ~

  ONE bladesinger, fifty Alturan soldiers, and two hundred ironmen held against the Black Army's counter-attack for nearly an hour before Marshal Beorn arrived with reinforcements.

  In the end, they held the field, and the Black Army fled to nurse its wounds. Of the fifty Alturan swordsmen, only twelve lived. The Alturan captain numbered among the dead, and as he looked at the brave man's body, Miro realised he'd never even asked his name.

  Throughout the night, Marshal Scola harried the enemy, maintaining the initiative while Miro and Beorn consolidated their defences. With every hour that passed, the animators unearthed more constructs, but the moment of greatest triumph came when, cheering wildly, they even salvaged two massive colossi. Miro instructed them to keep going, rescuing as many as they could until the essence ran out.

  As the next day dawned, Miro realised there had been no more counter-attacks. He had held Halrana soil for a full day. At midday the animators told him there would be no more constructs to add to their numbers.

  Miro ordered the army to decamp and advance further into Halaran, while the Black Army fled in front of them.

  Now Miro had the initiative.

  He didn't plan to lose it.

  32

  SUMMER was over, but it was two weeks more before Ella told the prince that the time was right.

  Ella and Shani had spent long hours planning while the desert warriors fought amongst themselves, spoiling to fight. The prince eventually took a personal hand keeping his men in line, publicly trying eight men for insurgency, and another three for their poor treatment of Petryans. All eleven men were executed by beheading. Shani told Ella she was finally beginning to believe the prince would keep his word and treat her people well.

  Prince Ilathor met with the leaders of the other tarns and gave them his promise they would be fighting when the season turned. Ella, whenever she looked at the maps on the wall of the chamber at the top of the tower, could feel the prince's eyes on her. She caught him smiling when he looked at her and couldn't help herself smiling in return. She hadn't kissed him again, and he hadn't pushed her, but part of her wanted him to try.

  The prince organised contests, something very familiar to the Petryans, who were happy to look on and supply rules and advice. The locals refrained from joining in the horse races and sword-fighting, but they were glad to participate in the wrestling, running and jumping. The games gave the desert warriors some focus, and the Petryans began to smile again. Ella's respect for Ilathor grew.

  There wasn't a soul in Torlac who didn't wonder about Tlaxor. The tiered city had been under siege for months now, with no fresh food or water crossing the lake. The prince was obviously cognizant of the iron grip the Petryan High Lord had over his people, and had made his plans accordingly, but still, how could Haptut Alwar not relent?

  Then, one day, Shani knocked at the door to Ella's chamber. The Petryan elementalist was red-eyed and hard-faced; Ella had never seen her friend so upset. "What is it?" Ella said, putting her book to the side and standing up.

  Shani held out her hands, indicating she didn't want Ella to come any closer. "Bodies," Shani said. "Thousands upon thousands of them. A patrol finally found where they've all been washing up. This siege is taking its toll after all."

  "I'm so sorry," Ella said.

  "I made them take me to see. Most of them were starved, and probably died of hunger, but not all. Some were tortured."

  "It's how the High Lord keeps control," Ella said. "I wish it weren't so."

  "If we left, supplies would reach the city, and many lives would be saved. Yet things would not change. Petrya would not be free."

  "I often have the same thought," Ella said. "The best thing we can do is end it quickly. It won't be long now, I promise. They won't be expecting what we plan."

  Shani nodded and left the room. That night, Ella prayed as hard as she ever had to the Lord of the Sky for the season to change. She desperately needed cooler weather.

  Meanwhile, Ella worked on the most important part of her and Shani's plan. In the coolest cellars, deep beneath the barracks where the prince had made his command centre, Ella had the prince's men construct huge water tanks. She kept them building night and day, and as they finished one tank she made them start on another. Ella put some more men to work filling the tanks with water, and some others still lugging sacks back and forth, adding salt to the water.

  Ella kept them at it, haranguing the fearsome desert warriors and Petryan labourers until they kept their heads down and did as she said. Soon, every dark space held a tank, and every tank was filled to the brim with incredibly salty water. Ella thanked the perplexed men who had helped her and dismissed them.

  Ella then retired to her chambers and spent day after day enchanting rope. Her fingers became blistered from holding a scrill, and the gloves on her hands became so familiar she often forgot to take them off. Steadily the essence Prince Ilathor had given her was depleted, until she had used almost half of it, and she had filled an entire grain silo with rope. Ella connected the separate ropes into one long line, and finally she split one end of the line into multiple strands.

  Lastly, she enchanted staves of polished wood, long and sharpened like spears at one end. On each stave she left the sharpened half untouched, but the other ends she covered in tiny runes, complex matrices she had created herself, unlike anything she had ever done before. One stave was much larger than the rest, a huge pole that took six men to lift. When Ella had finished the deft rune-making on its thick shaft, all of the essence Prince Ilathor had given her was gone.

  She was ready.

  A day later, Ella and Shani stood on the shore of Lake Halapusa, looking out at the tiered city perched precariously on its island, when the heat of summer finally broke.

  A cold wind blew from the north, howling down from the mighty range of the Elmas separating Petrya from Altura and Halaran. Clouds gathered above, and the sky grew mottled with grey and black. Ella could smell the moisture in the air, and looking at her friend, noted the way the gusts tore at Shani's rust-coloured robe.

  The two women stood fast as thunder rumbled from all directions at once. Sheets of lightning crackled across the storm clouds, and it was suddenly as dark as night.

  The sky roared again, the heavens opened, and rain came down.

  Moments before, Ella and Shani had been hot, sweltering in the Petryan summer; now the chill air from the north and the cool rainwater washed over them, soaking them to the skin.

  In front of them, the raindrops fell into the lake with little plops and splashes, sending a sound like the shaking of a crystal tree tinkling in the air. The Petryans under siege in Tlaxor would have fresh water this day, for which Ella was thankful.

  It was time to return to Torlac.

  ~

  "WAIT? Please, Ella. I cannot wait further. You said you needed the weather to change. It has changed," Prince Ilathor said.

  "We must wait for the rain to stop," Ella said.

  "How long?"

  "I can't say," Ella said. "When the rain stops, the city will be yours. That's the best I can give you."

  The prince sighed, rubbing at his forehead. Controlling the men under his command was taking its toll.

  "You'd better go," Jehral said.

  Ella touched the prince's shoulder and turned, leaving the prince staring out the window at the Petryan capital below.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs,
Ella cocked her head.

  Silence.

  She left the barracks completely — the guards well-used to her presence by now — and looked up at the sky.

  The clouds had parted, and the weather was still cool.

  The rain had stopped.

  ~

  WITH Shani's help — Ella would never have understood the thermal equations without the elementalist — Ella built her great magic at a hundred points around Lake Halapusa.

  Their loose clothing fluttering under a brisk breeze, a detachment of twelve horsemen kept a wary eye out for the enemy as Ella reached the first point. Shani was working in the opposite direction, and the two women would meet at the opposite side of the lake, a place they had chosen to be the section of lake closest to the trade town of Torlac.

  Taking a deep breath, Ella halted her horse and dismounted at the place she and Shani had previously marked. She walked down to the lakeside until she stood beside the shallows, wary of touching even the smallest amount of the scalding water. Careful not to splash herself, Ella lifted her arms and plunged the first of her fifty sharpened staves into the water. A warrior tried to come forward to help as Ella then lifted a heavy hammer, but she waved him back. Ella smashed down on top of the stave until she was sure it was secure.

  She spoke the activation sequence. "Simela-atun. Sunala-arun. Mulan-turapela."

  The runes she had inscribed on the top half of the stave lit up with power, each shining bright and blue. Satisfied, Ella hefted her hammer and remounted her horse. Forty-nine to go.

  When she was sinking the forty-fifth stave, Ella looked back along the shore the way she had come. Her breath caught. She could see a plume of grey steam rising into the air, tapering down to a point where the previous stave must be. Looking further still, along the shoreline, Ella could see more plumes, many of them.

  It was working.

  Deciding it was worth the risk, Ella crouched down beside the lake and dipped her finger into the water of Lake Halapusa.

  "Lord of Fire, what are you doing?" one of the desert warriors called out, leaping down from his horse and running towards her. "Stop, you'll be burned!"

  Ella smiled and stood. Her finger smarted from where it had been scalded by the water. Yet it was just a minor burn.

  "I'm fine," Ella said.

  Ella continued her task, sinking the last five staves, and then Shani was in front of her, watching as Ella sank the fiftieth stave into the lake. As Ella finished activating the complex magic she had imbued the stave with, she looked up and saw Shani grinning.

  "You need to work on the muscles in your arms," Shani said, pointing at the bicep of her own right arm. "You're struggling there."

  "Perhaps you can do the big one then," Ella said.

  Ella's escort merged with Shani's, and they rode along the lake until they came to the place at the lakeside where Torlac was at its closest, a small speck in the cleft of the crater high above.

  Jehral and the prince stood holding the reins of their horses, with perhaps sixty desert warriors ranged behind them.

  Shani looked up at Prince Ilathor. "Why so few?" she demanded.

  Ella grabbed Shani's upper arm. "Look." She pointed.

  "What?"

  "The fissure in the crater's edge, in front of where Torlac is — see? It's much smaller than usual."

  "I don't understand."

  "The Hazarans have built an illusion around the cleft. Lord of the Sky, it's massive. I can't believe how many men must be hidden there."

  "Every man I could spare," the prince said. "We will take the city quickly, so that the High Lord's men have little chance to react. My men have instructions to be swift, and to concentrate on those who lead the defences. The common people will be as safe from harm as I can make them without endangering my men."

  Ella looked up at Prince Ilathor. "Thank you," she said. "Good luck today. Fight well."

  He nodded, his dark eyes sending a familiar thrill through her. "Good luck to you also, Enchantress Ella. All of our hopes are with you."

  "It's time," Ella said. "Bring it down!"

  Ella turned back to the volcanic lake. In all directions she could see plumes rising from the hundred staves. She wondered what High Lord Haptut Alwar would make of them. She doubted he would expect what was to come.

  Six men carried the huge, rune-covered stave down to the lake's edge. They hesitated as they reached the water — the pole was unwieldy, and none of them had any desire to see the flesh boiled from their ankles.

  "It's fine," Ella said. They still looked fearful, so she stepped forward. "Watch."

  Ella walked down to the water's edge, and, without dwelling too long on what she was about to do, she stepped into the water. Ella took two steps more, until the water of Lake Halapusa was up to her calves.

  She turned around to face the stunned men carrying the stave. "It won't harm you," she said. "I need you to drive it in hard, out there, where the water is deep."

  Ella felt a thrill to see the lore was working. Steam no longer rose from the lake itself; the water was actually cold, and felt like it was growing colder all the time.

  The six men waded into the water until it came up to their waists. With a heave and a splash, they lifted the stave and drove the metal-bound shaft deep into the bed of the lake, until only half of its length poked above the water. Two men each hefted a sledgehammer and pounded at the top of the stave until Ella was satisfied.

  Ella returned to Prince Ilathor. "Are you ready?" she asked.

  "We're ready," he said.

  On the path down from Torlac stretched the length of cord that she herself had made. Shani handed Ella the end, and Ella's eyes followed it up the path until she could no longer see it.

  Ella pictured the other end of the cord. The end she carried was like the rest, a single woven piece; but high above, in Torlac, the line split into several strands. Each strand rested in a tank of cold, salted water.

  Ella hoped the prince had remembered to evacuate the barracks.

  With all eyes on her, Ella waded into the lake until she was beside the thick stave. Her eyes ran over the wood, decorated with as many tiny symbols as her enchantress's dress. Ella threaded the cord through a hoop on the side of the pole and tied the end.

  "We should get back now," Ella said, returning to the shore. "Everyone, stand back!" she cried. She hardly needed to; the desert warriors were standing nervously beside their horses, far from the lake's edge. Even Shani took a few steps back, leaving only Ella standing next to the lake.

  Ella lifted her arms, taking in a deep breath. Her voice came strong and certain as she chanted with a steady rhythm, activating the capabilities of the cord, and then calling forth the powerful conductive magic she had imbued the stave with.

  The top of the shaft lit up, white and pure as the snow. The light travelled from the shaft to the cord and then continued along the cord, moving along the line with the speed of a bird in flight.

  All eyes followed the light as it travelled up the slope, heading directly for the town of Torlac. In an instant the whole line glowed piercingly white, and Ella closed her eyes, praying the enchantment would work.

  She again caught the eyes of Prince Ilathor. He regarded her with hope in his eyes.

  Please, let it work.

  ~

  IN THE tower Prince Ilathor Shanti had made his headquarters, high above the streets of Torlac, a Petryan named Leptar stole into the prince's chamber.

  He knew about the warning to stay clear of the barracks. It made his task that much easier. Leptar had received a message by pigeon from High Lord Haptut Alwar. His ruler wanted to know what this magic was that the Hazarans were preparing.

  Leptar hardly needed to be quiet; the barracks were completely deserted. Discarding all caution, he began to rummage through the papers on the prince's desk, searching for some clue to what the man was planning. Giving up, he moved to the maps on the wall, but the squiggles meant nothing to him. He could see the borders
and rivers, the great lake and the mountains to the north, but what were those other lines? Were they plans of attack? There were many lines plotting a course between Petrya and Tingara through the Gap of Garl, but what would the High Lord care about that?

  Then Leptar heard a great thudding boom, following by a strange hiss. He wondered what it was, and then it came to him.

  The great magic; it was here. It was the reason the prince didn't want anyone going near the barracks. He'd warned everyone else away, and now he was secreted away with his loremasters, building some terrible weapon.

  Leptar knew it was risky, but he was brave, and loyal to the High Lord, who had promised him riches and a harem of young concubines. He decided to follow the sounds and see if he could get a look.

  Leptar descended the steps from the tower, being a little more cautious now that he realised the creators of magic were somewhere in the barracks. Another hiss came from deep below, guiding his footsteps, and soon Leptar was on the ground level.

  They must be in the cellars.

  The air grew warm as Leptar descended. He turned a corner and saw a strange glowing cord enter a room at one end and plummet down some stairs at the other. Congratulating himself on his intuition, which had never served him wrong, he followed the cord down the stairs and into the cellars.

  Leptar reached the foot of the stairs and saw that the pulsing cord vanished under a heavy wooden door. He suddenly felt he should leave; there were those with powers he did not understand on the other side of this door. Yet what could he say to the High Lord if he didn't open the door?

  Leptar drew the heavy bone-handled knife he wore at his side. There were no guards; the men inside wouldn't be expecting him.

  With a mighty pull, Leptar hauled the door open.

  A loud bubbling and hissing assaulted his senses, and clouds of hot steam rolled at him, so that for a moment he couldn't see.

  The glowing line broke into strands, each strand running into a tank. As Leptar looked on, his mouth agape, the sides of the tank closest to him began to glow.