Now the black sought to escape, but Ryath’s jaws held tight. Pug and Tomas felt the gold falter and begin to be dragged down. Then suddenly they were moving upward again. The black had collapsed, ceasing its hovering. The sudden added weight had pulled Ryath down, but she had released in time to prevent them all from being dragged downward.
Pug watched as the black fell past the edge of the Garden, to vanish into the moat between it and the city. As he watched, the black dragon continued to fall, below the city, until at last it was simply a spot of black against the grey, then at last gone from sight. Pug heard Tomas say, ‘You fought well, Ryath. I have never ridden one so accomplished, even the mighty Shuruga.’
Pug felt the beaming pride the dragon projected as she said, Thou art fairly spoken, Tomas. I thank thee for thy words. But that one was an ancient male, one less mighty than I, so it was less a contest than it appeared. Had thou and Pug not crouched upon my back, I would have been less cautious. Still, thine aid and Pug’s counted much.
They circled above the island in the sky and began their search again. It was a large place, and the foliage was dense, but at last Pug pointed and shouted, ‘Tomas!’
Tomas followed his friend’s direction and there, in the centre of a clearing, a figure jumped up and down, waving his arms above his head. They waved back as Tomas instructed the dragon to descend. The figure staggered back, covering his eyes from the wind the huge wings caused. He was holding a staff and wore the familiar brown homespun. It was Macros. He continued to wave at them as they came to land.
His face registered resignation as the dragon touched ground. There was an odd, strangely quiet moment, and they could hear him sigh. Then he said, ‘I wish you hadn’t done that.’
The universe collapsed and came crashing down upon them.
It felt as if the ground had fallen out from under them. Pug staggered a moment, then righted himself and saw Tomas doing the same. Macros leaned upon his staff, looking about, then sat down upon a rock. The falling sensation slowed, then ceased, but the sky above changed, as the grey of rift-space was replaced by a dazzling display of stars in an inky void. Macros said, ‘You should do something about the air above this island, Pug. In a moment we’ll not have it.’
Pug didn’t hesitate, but incanted quickly and closed his eyes. Above them the others could see a faint glowing canopy come into existence. Pug opened his eyes again.
Macros said, ‘Well, you couldn’t have known.’ Then his eyes narrowed and his voice rose in anger. ‘But you should have been clever enough to have anticipated this trap!’
Pug and Tomas suddenly both felt such guilt as they had when boys, being reprimanded by Tomas’s father for some failing in the kitchen. Pug shrugged off the feeling and said, ‘We thought it all right, seeing you waving to us.’
Macros closed his eyes and leaned his head against the staff a moment, then heaved a deep sigh. ‘One of the problems with being my age is you look at everyone who is younger as children, and when everyone else around you is younger, it means you live in a universe of children. So you tend to scold more than is proper.’ He shook his head. ‘I am sorry to be so short with you. I was trying to warn you off. If you’d thought to use one of the abilities you learned from the eldar, we could have spoken despite the noise of the dragon. Then Tomas could have lifted me up to the dragon, and we wouldn’t be in this mess.’
Pug and Tomas exchanged guilty glances again. Then Macros said, ‘Still, there’s nothing to be done, and no gain from recriminations. At least you got here on time.’
Tomas’s eyes narrowed. ‘On time? You knew we were coming?’
Pug said, ‘Your message to Kulgan and me said you could no longer read the future.’
Macros smiled. ‘I lied.’
Pug and Tomas were both mute in astonishment. Macros stood up and began to pace. ‘The truth is when I penned my last missive to you, I could see the future, but now I really can’t anymore. I lost the ability to know what was to happen when my powers were stripped away.’
‘Your powers are gone?’ said Pug, understanding at once what a staggering loss that would be to Macros. Above all others, Macros was the master of magic arts, and Pug could only imagine what it would feel like to be suddenly stripped of that which gave definition to your being, your existence and nature. A magician without magic was a bird without wings. Pug locked eyes with Macros for a moment, and they both knew there was a bond of understanding.
In a lighter tone, Macros said, ‘Those that put me here couldn’t destroy me – I’m still a tough old walnut – but they could neutralize me. Now I am powerless.’ He pointed to his head. ‘But I’ve my knowledge and you’ve the power. I can guide you like no other in the universe, Pug.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I can gauge the situation based on superior information to that which you presently possess. I know more of what faces us than anyone in the universe, save the gods. I can help.’
‘How did you come to this place?’ asked Pug.
Macros motioned for them to sit and they did. To Ryath the mage said, ‘Daughter of Rhuagh, there is game, though scant, upon this island of plants. If you are clever, you shall not starve.’
The dragon said, ‘I shall hunt.’
‘’Ware the limit of the protective shell I’ve erected about the Garden,’ warned Pug.
‘I shall,’ answered the dragon as she took wing.
Macros looked at the pair and said, ‘When you and I closed the rift, Pug, you directed shattering energies for my use. As a by-product of that business, I was suddenly a beacon in the black to that which strove to pierce the barrier between worlds.’
‘The Enemy,’ said Pug.
Macros nodded. ‘I was seized and a battle ensued. Fortunately, as powerful as what I face is, I am … was not without powers of my own.’
Pug said, ‘I remember watching you, in the vision upon the Tower of Testing, turning aside the warped rift that threatened to allow the Enemy to regain that universe.’
Macros shrugged. ‘You live long enough, you learn a few things. And I may be unkillable.’ The last was said with a note of regret. ‘In any event, we battled for some time. How long I cannot judge, for, as you’ve no doubt noticed, time has little meaning between worlds.
‘But at last I was forced to take a stand here in the Garden, and my powers were limited. I could not quite reach the city, for there I have means to augment some of my powers with clever devices. So, we battled to a standstill, until my powers were stripped from me and the trap was set. Then the Enemy destroyed the bridges and left. So I was forced to wait until you arrived.’
‘Then why didn’t you say something in your last message?’ asked Pug. ‘We could have come sooner.’
‘I couldn’t have you two coming after me before it was time. Tomas, you needed to come to terms with yourself, and, Pug, you needed the training only the eldar could give. And I’ve used the time to some purpose. I’ve healed some wounds and’ – he pointed to his staff – ‘I’ve even taken up wood carving. Though I don’t recommend using rocks as tools. No, everything had to move at its proper pace. Now you are fit weapons for the coming battle.’ He looked about. ‘If we can manage to escape this trap.’
Pug regarded the glowing shell above their heads. Through it they could see the stars, but there was something odd in the way they appeared, as if they flickered in odd rhythms. ‘What sort of trap have we encountered?’
‘The most clever sort,’ said Macros. ‘A time trap. The moment you set foot upon the Garden, it was activated. Those who set it are sending us backward in time, at the rate of one day’s movement backward for each true day’s passing. Right about now, you two are sitting upon the dragon looking for me, I should think. In about five minutes, you’ll be battling the black dragon. So on and so forth.’
Tomas said, ‘What must we do?’
Macros seemed amused. ‘Do? At present, we are isolated and rendered helpless, for those who oppose us know we did not defeat them in the past, for natu
re puts limits on such paradox, so our only hope is to break free somehow and return to our proper time … before it is too late.’
‘How do we do that?’ asked Pug.
Sitting again upon the rock, Macros rubbed his beard. ‘That’s the problem. I don’t know, Pug. I just don’t know.’
• Chapter Twelve •
Messengers
Arutha watched the horizon.
Companies of horsemen galloped toward the gate, while behind them the sky was thick with dust. Murmandamus’s army was marching on Armengar. The last of those coming from the kraals and steadings were reaching the gates, with herds of cattle and sheep, wagons loaded with crops, all lumbering into the city. With the decline in population over the years there was ample housing for everyone, even space for livestock.
For three days Guy, Amos, Armand de Sevigny, and the other commanders had been leading skirmish parties to slow the advancing columns while those called to Armengar reached the city. Arutha and the others had ridden out with them from time to time, lending aid when possible.
At Arutha’s side, Baru and Roald watched as the last company of horsemen to quit the field before Murmandamus’s host came thundering out of the dust. Baru said, ‘The Protector.’
‘One-eye’s cutting it close this time,’ said Roald. Behind the dashing horsemen, goblins on foot and moredhel cavalry followed closely. The dark elves quickly left their goblin allies behind as they chased Guy’s company. But just as they overtook the last rider, archers from another company wheeled and began shooting over Guy’s men, raining arrows down upon the moredhel. They broke and retreated and both Armengarian companies were again dashing for the gate.
Arutha spoke quietly. ‘Martin was with them.’
Jimmy and Locklear came hurrying along, Amos a short distance behind. The former sea captain said, ‘De Sevigny says that if anyone is going to make the run to Yabon, they have to leave tonight. After that, all the patrols in the hills will fall back to the redoubts upon the cliff tops. By midday tomorrow there will be only Dark Brothers and goblins in the hills out there.’
Arutha had at last agreed with Baru’s plan to carry word south. ‘All right, but I want some last words with Guy before we send anyone.’
‘If I know One-eye,’ said Amos, ‘and I do, he’ll be standing by your side within minutes of the gate’s closing.’
True to Amos’s prediction, as soon as the last stragglers were safely through the gates, Guy was up on the wall studying the approaching army.
He signalled and the bridge across the moat was retracted, slowly disappearing into the foundation of the wall. Looking down, Roald said, ‘I was wondering how that would be taken care of.’
Guy motioned toward the now unbroken moat. ‘A drawbridge can be lowered from the outside. This one has a winch below the gatehouse which can be operated only from there.’ He said to Arutha, ‘We have miscalculated. I thought we’d face only twenty-five thousand or perhaps thirty.’
‘How many do you judge?’ asked Arutha.
Martin and Briana came up the stairs as Guy said, ‘Closer to fifty.’
Arutha looked at his brother as Martin said, ‘Yes, I’ve never seen so many goblins and moredhel, Arutha. They’re coming down the slopes and out of the woods like a flood. And that’s not all. Mountain trolls, entire companies. And giants.’
Locklear’s eyes widened. ‘Giants!’ He threw Jimmy a black look as the older boy elbowed him quiet.
‘How many?’ asked Amos.
Guy said, ‘It appears several hundred. They stand a good four or five feet above the others. In any event, if they are scattered about in equal numbers, several thousand have come to Murmandamus’s banner. Even now the bulk of his army is still in camp north of the Vale of Isbandia, at least a week away. This coming toward us is only the first element. By tonight ten thousand will camp opposite our walls. Within ten days there will be five times as many.’
Arutha looked out over the wall in silence for a while, then said, ‘So what you’re saying is you cannot hold until reinforcements arrive from Yabon.’
‘If this were any normal army, I’d say we could,’ answered Guy. ‘But past experience tells us Murmandamus will bring some tricks to bear. By my best guess he’s allowed only four weeks for sacking the city, otherwise he won’t have enough time to cross the mountains. He’s got to flood a dozen lesser passes with soldiers, reform his army on the other side and move straight south to Tyr-Sog. He can’t move west to Inclindel, for it would take too long to reach the city and dispose of the garrisons before reinforcements arrive from Yabon City and Loriél. He needs to establish himself in the Kingdom quickly, to ready for a spring campaign. If he tarries here even more than a week beyond that schedule, he risks the possibility of being caught in the mountains with early snows. Time is his biggest enemy now.’
Martin said, ‘The dwarves!’
Arutha and Guy looked at the Duke of Crydee. Martin said, ‘Dolgan and Harthorn moot at Stone Mountain with all their kin. There must be two, three thousand dwarves there.’
Guy said, ‘Two thousand dwarven warriors could tip the balance until Vandros’s heavy foot can cross the mountains from Yabon. Even if we can only hold up Murmandamus for an additional two weeks, I think his campaign will have to be aborted. Otherwise it’s likely he’ll have an army stuck in the Yabon Hills in winter.’
Baru looked from Arutha to Guy. ‘We’ll leave an hour after nightfall.’
Martin said, ‘I’m going with Baru and will travel to Stone Mountain. Dolgan knows me.’ With a wry grin he added, ‘I’ve no doubt he’d be loath to miss this fight. Then I’ll go to Yabon.’
‘Can you reach Stone Mountain in two weeks?’ asked Guy.
‘It will be difficult but possible,’ answered the Hadati. ‘A small band, moving quickly … yes, it is possible.’ No one needed to add ‘barely.’ All knew it meant better than thirty miles a day.
Roald said, ‘I’d like to try as well. Just in case.’ He didn’t say what, but everyone knew it was against the possibility that either Martin or Baru would not survive.
Arutha had agreed to Martin going with Baru, for the Duke of Crydee was only slightly less gifted travelling through the hills than the Hadati, but the Prince didn’t know about Roald. He was about to say no, when Laurie said, ‘I’d better go as well. Vandros and his commanders know me, and should the messages be lost, we’ll need to do some convincing. Remember, everyone thinks you’re dead.’
Arutha’s expression darkened. Laurie said, ‘We all made it to Moraelin and back, Arutha. We know what it’s like to travel in the mountains.’
At last the Prince said, ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but I don’t have a better one.’ He looked out at the approaching army. ‘I don’t know how much I believe in prophecy, but if I am the Bane of Darkness, then I must stay and confront Murmandamus.’
Jimmy and Locklear exchanged glances, but Arutha preempted any volunteering. ‘You two will stay. This may not be the healthiest of places in a few days, but it’s a damn sight safer than scampering across the mountain ridges through Murmandamus’s army at night.’
Guy said to Martin, ‘I’ll make sure you have some cover for a while. We’ll have enough activity until dawn in the ridges behind the city to cover your escape. Our redoubts above the city still control a good portion of the hills behind Armengar. Murmandamus’s cutthroats won’t be behind us in strength for several days. Let us hope they’ll assume everyone is heading toward the city and won’t be too careful in looking for those heading in the other direction.’
Martin said, ‘We’ll leave on foot. Once we’re free of patrols, we’ll appropriate some horses.’ He smiled at Arutha. ‘We’ll make it.’
Arutha looked at his brother and nodded. Martin took Briana by the arm and left. Arutha knew how much the woman had come to mean to Martin and realized his brother would want to spend his last hours in Armengar with her. Without thinking, Arutha reached out and placed a hand upon Jimmy’s shoul
der. Jimmy looked up at the Prince then followed his gaze to the plain before the city, where under clouds of rolling dust an army approached.
Martin held Briana closely. They had retired to her quarters for the afternoon. She had left word with her second-in-command she was to be disturbed only in case of grave need. Their lovemaking had been frenzied at first, then gentle. At the last they simply held each other, waiting as the moments slipped by.
Martin at last spoke. ‘I must go soon. The others will be gathering at the tunnel door into the hills.’
‘Martin,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
‘I just wanted to say your name.’ She studied his face. ‘Martin.’
He kissed her and tasted the salt of tears upon her lips. She clung to him and said, ‘Tell me about tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Martin felt a sudden, unexpected confusion. He had laboured to honour her request in not speaking of the future. His elven-tempered nature offered patience, but his feelings for her demanded commitment. He had put aside the conflict that resulted from this contradiction and had lived for the present. He softly said, ‘You said we must not think about tomorrow.’
She shook her head. ‘I know, but now I want to.’ She closed her eyes and spoke softly. ‘I told you once I was a commander, privy to knowledge most of the city are ignorant of. What I know is that we most likely will not hold this city and must needs flee into the hills.’ She was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Understand, Martin, we know nothing save Armengar. The possibility of living somewhere else never occurred to any here until the Protector came among us. Now I have faint hope. Tell me about tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Tell me of all the tomorrows. Tell me how it will be.’
The Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn and A Darkness at Sethanon Page 157
