By midmorning the party moved steadily onward. By midday they had reached a stretch of plains with a single stone structure far in the middle of the clearing. As they moved nearer, Devyn could see it was a great tower about twice the size of Morgoran’s tower. The outward edges of the stone structure were smooth, and it had many shuttered windows from top to bottom. The tower had an extended base that gave it the appearance of a large stone spike protruding outward from the roof of a house. A few trees grew around the base of the structure and, to Devyn’s surprise, they seemed to be alive even though they were in The Blight and covered with snow.
“Dismount here,” Melias said as he stepped down from his horse. A wooden pole, driven into the tower’s foundation and attached to the ground, served as a hitching post. “Tie up your horses.”
One by one they attached the reins to the post and waited for Melias, who entered the tower first.
The party followed Melias up several stairs until they reached a great, round room in the tower. A man with grey hair and beard and dressed in a Defender’s uniform sat at a marble desk. Behind him was an enormous looking glass.
“Melias,” the man said, “welcome to the watchtower. It has been a while since I have seen you around here.”
“Selaan, you look well,” Melias said.
Selaan noticed Ianthill and his friendly smile abruptly turned to concern. “Master Ianthill,” he acknowledged.
“Captain,” Ianthill said.
Melias spoke up. “I am afraid we have some disconcerting news, Selaan. Naneden’s army is in Symboria, and we have reason to believe it will march through here.”
Selaan laughed. “Not possible. The armies of the West are in Symboria. They will engage Naneden long before he reaches us.”
Melias looked tense. “We have reason to believe the dark armies have either gotten past the armies of the West or have defeated them.”
Captain Selaan looked at Melias suspiciously. “How would you know this?”
“We received word at the monastery before I left. It was attacked by some of the dark army. There was no sign of the Western armies.”
Selaan eyed Ianthill. “I will keep a sharp lookout for this army, and I will raise the alarm if need be.”
“You see that you do,” Ianthill said. “Now we will take our leave.”
Ianthill stormed out of the tower muttering under his breath.
They had mounted their horses and were well on their way before Ianthill spoke. “Fools, the lot of them.”
“Why not have him raise the alarm now, Ianthill?” Gondrial asked.
“Because I have a plan to rescue Lady Shey, and if he raises the alarm now, it may work against me. I just wanted him to keep a sharp eye out, but I could tell he didn’t believe us.”
“It’s difficult to believe an entire army has disappeared or has been defeated so quickly without seeing any signs of retreating soldiers,” Gondrial reminded him.
“True enough,” Ianthill said. “We will ride on to Calanbrough and see if we can rouse the Defender’s garrison there. If we can convince them of the dangers ahead, we will ask them to aid us at Brightonhold. The two keeps are within walking distance of each other.”
“What is your plan, Ianthill?” Devyn asked.
Ianthill grinned. “Fox in the henhouse, Devyn, fox in the henhouse.”
THE SEA GODDESS sailed into the ruined docks of the abandoned city of Gondolan without resistance. It was the nearest port the captain could use to get them into The Blight quickly. No dockmaster greeted them and no Defenders met them. Bren’s feeling of dread had intensified as they neared the land. Kelle had also begun to feel the sensation of dread for the first time since donning her new armor. As soon as he, Enowene, and Kelle disembarked, Captain Edifor sailed The Sea Goddess back out to sea with haste, leaving them in Gondolan. They left the ruins just before midday and continued on foot across The Blight until the snowfall became so great, they could no longer travel effectively.
“If you trust me, my ladies, I will provide for us,” Bren said.
“I trust you, Bren,” Kelle said.
Enowene glared at Kelle and then nodded to Bren.
Bren sat for four hours holding a Lora Daine and meditating. Kelle had just begun to worry when she heard the beating of giant wings from somewhere above. She gasped in awe as the figure of a white drake took shape amongst a backdrop of snowflakes, which made it almost invisible. The dragon landed and walked to where Bren and Kelle waited. Kelle marveled at the drakes’ beauty; her snow-white scales glistened and her eyes were ice blue. She was about half the size of Amadean.
“I hear your call, dragon knight,” the drake said in a feminine, melodic voice. “I am Delanorasylva, Shadesilver in common tongue. I am here to assist you.” The drake became visibly startled when she noticed Kelle was female. “A woman dragon knight, how can this be?” she asked.
“She is the first,” Bren said. “A knight of Amadean the Blue.”
“Amadean?” the beast said surprised. “How extraordinary.” Kelle was not sure what to make of the drake’s words, but she did not question them. Bren and Kelle climbed up on the drake’s back, and Enowene followed reluctantly.
“I can take you within a few miles of Brightonhold Keep but no farther. Two foul black dragon exiles have been sighted patrolling that area.”
Bren spoke with concern. “What are black dragons doing in this land? They never come down this far from the mountains of Ishrak.”
“They are up to no good for certain,” Shadesilver said. “Hold on to my scales and keep down low, for it is freezing up there for you.” The drake took flight easily and soared into the falling snowflakes.
TRENDAN HAD KNOWN FOR some time that he was being followed. As the snow blanketed The Blight, he found it increasingly difficult to hide his tracks. Not that it did any good anyway; the woman called Fayne still found a way to track him. He had finally decided to stop and wait for the woman to catch up. The invading army from Scarovia was far behind, and he had time to wait a day or so. Trendan stopped at an old farmstead and found signs of recent inhabitants. He wondered if he would reach Brightonhold Keep or Calanbrough Keep in time to warn them of the Scarovian army. The armies of the West had vanished into thin air, and the Scarovian army marched unopposed, destroying and looting everything in its path. The Defenders, the Enforcers, and the knights of Lux Enor were all The Blight had to stop them now.
By midday Trendan saw the first sign of Fayne, and he waited patiently for her to find him. She rode to the farmstead. After finding oats and water in the partially collapsed barn for her horse, she entered the farmhouse where Trendan had a fire going and a stew cooking.
“Welcome, Fayne, come and share a meal,” he offered.
“You knew I followed you?” she asked.
Trendan smiled and dipped her some stew. “I did. I tried to shake you off my trail, but you track nearly as well as I do.”
“I told you I needed to find Vesperin,” she said, accepting the stew and sitting on the pallet Trendan had put down on the cold wooden flooring.
Trendan sat on the pallet with his meal in hand. “I may not even see Vesperin. I am trying to reach the twin keeps to warn them of the Scarovian armies. I may not come in contact with Vesperin or his party for some time.”
“You will. I know you will,” she said confidently.
“How can you be so sure?” Trendan asked.
“Because, for some reason, I have a feeling,” she said.
“A feeling, just a feeling?” he asked.
“Don’t mock me, Trendan, my people have a sense for such things.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He took a bite of stew. “It makes sense for us to travel on together.”
“Agreed, how much farther?” she asked.
“We still have a few days yet, and it will be slow going if the snow doesn’t let up some.”
“Are we going to stay here for the night?”
“That was my plan. T
his farmstead is a Defender’s shelter, and it appears someone has stayed here recently, but it still contains enough food and water for us and our mounts to stay a night.”
“Good. I could use a warm place to sleep for a change.” She looked around the empty room. “I just wish I had a hot bath to soak in.”
The thought of a bath was not unappealing to Trendan either.
Chapter 30: Brightonhold
The first light of day crawled over the northern wall of Brightonhold Keep, and the young lieutenant was glad for the warmth. The nighttime hours in The Blight had grown colder as winter progressed. The lieutenant set his poleax aside and rubbed the numbness from his hands over a brazier.
“Stiff morning,” another soldier said as he handed the lieutenant a cup of steaming bittering tea.
“Aye,” the lieutenant replied, taking the tea. “Thank you.” The lieutenant held the cup in both hands and sipped the black liquid. “What news?”
“I hear a young woman from the Vale is being kept here. What news from the night watch?” the soldier asked.
“Well, the woman you speak of is to be beheaded today. Commandant Yarbrille has ruled her as a heretic and worse, as a wielder.”
“When?”
“At midday. The executioner is sharpening his axe as we speak.” The lieutenant shook his head and took another sip of the tea. “Filthy wielders and she is so beautiful; I never would have named her a wielder if I hadn’t seen her try and use her vile skills.”
“Oh, what did you see?” the soldier asked.
“She burned off her chains and tried to run when we threw her in the dungeon. Commandant Yarbrille has an adept on guard duty now to curb her activities.”
“The Blight is changing. I remember a time when even the simplest wielder enchantment was impossible, but now the essence returns,” the soldier said.
“It is still that way in the heart of The Blight. The change is only here on the outskirts.”
“Tragic really, isn’t it?” the soldier said, shaking his head.
“Quite tragic. The Enforcers are gaining the upper hand in the struggle against magic. Rest assured, young soldier. We will see this through yet.”
“Is the woman still in the dungeon then?”
The lieutenant almost spit out his tea. “The dungeon? Where have you been, soldier? The lady resides in chains in the council chamber. It seems Yarbrille has taken a liking to her.” The lieutenant nudged the soldier. “If you asked me, he has been smitten with her.”
“Indeed, you cannot mean...”
“Aye, my friend, it is said he has made use of the situation and...” A bewildered expression suddenly appeared on the lieutenant’s face and his eyes narrowed. “Do I know you, soldier?”
The soldier’s eyes narrowed mischievously. “Aye, but I cannot allow that to dissuade my purpose.”
The lieutenant dropped his bittering tea and reached for his poleax but to no avail, he fell to the ground just short of his goal as the soldier made a flicking motion with his fingers. “Hmm, it seems the essence does return to the fringes of The Blight.” The soldier looked down at the lieutenant. “Thank you for the information, my good man. Now sleep the sleep of the ages. You will awake without knowledge of me, and you will be rested. Dream a pleasant dream.” The soldier then stepped over the lieutenant and removed his tabard. “A deserved promotion.” The soldier laughed to himself as he put the tabard over his armor.
The courtyard of Brightonhold Keep was largely unguarded, and no one suspected a lieutenant strolling across it as odd since the watch had just changed. The lieutenant entered the main chamber of the keep without incident, finding his way to the council chamber. It had been three hundred years since he had been in the halls of the keep. After a short time, his memory returned, and he made his way into the chamber. The council chamber was a massive room with a long table at the far wall. Benches lined the rest of the room against the walls, and five enormous marble columns in two rows supported a high, glass-domed ceiling on each side directly in front of the benches. An iron-bared cage stood to the front right of the council table. In the cage, on a bed, was the figure of a woman. One guard in robes stood watch.
The new lieutenant made his way toward the cage, cautiously looking for a way to subdue the guard. The lieutenant muttered something under his breath and without warning, the guard dropped to the floor unconscious. “Shey, Shey, can you hear me?” The lady slowly lifted her head.
“Nay, do not try to rescue me. You are entering a trap!”
The lieutenant’s form began to shimmer and fade out. Instead, Ianthill dressed in his usual dark red robes materialized. He discarded the lieutenant’s tabard. “Can you stand up?”
The woman stirred to her feet, but she had to hunch over in the cage. Ianthill took the lieutenant’s halberd and pried off the lock with it. “Come now, quickly.”
As the woman stepped out of the cage, Ianthill realized she was not Lady Shey. Her features were sharper, and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him magic was in use. He tossed the halberd aside, and his staff appeared in his hand. He pointed it at the woman. “Who are you?” he asked between clenched teeth.
The woman began to laugh. “Ianthill, you are an old fool.” The woman stood close to face him. “Did you really believe we would make it so easy for you?” He did not recognize the woman before him. “Who are you?” he asked again.
“Let me answer that,” a voice said from behind. “Her name is Kimala, and she works for me.”
“Drakkius,” Ianthill said and then spit at his disgust.
Drakkius entered the chamber and raised his hand. The room filled with Enforcers, surrounding Ianthill on all sides. At the table, the council of the Enforcers entered and sat at their places. “Where is the rest of your party, Ianthill? I know you are not stupid enough to come into Brightonhold alone.”
“What are you trying to accomplish, Drakkius? Even if you and Naneden take The Blight, his madness will prevent you from using it.”
“Indeed, then why do you try so fervently to rid me from it?” Drakkius walked behind the council table. “It is my time, Ianthill; I have the power, and I intend to use it.”
“You speak only of yourself, Drakkius, what of Naneden?”
Drakkius continued on to Kimala, and put his arm around her shoulders, holding her in front of him, and then he sniffed her hair absently. “Naneden is around. Closer than you might think, but he is of no consequence. Don’t worry yourself of him, Ianthill. It is I who you should fear now. Naneden is too far gone. I simply humor him these days.”
Ianthill’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the table. “Yarbrille, are you foolish enough not to realize what and who this man is?” Yarbrille squirmed uncomfortably but said nothing.
“They are all in my service now, Ianthill, your cause has been abandoned.”
“Save your windy speeches for someone who might actually succumb to your insanity,” Ianthill said venomously. “I should have known someone such as Yarbrille, who uses wielders to hunt down other wielders, would bow down to such evil. Before this is all over, I am going to kill you, Yarbrille!”
Drakkius dropped his smug smile. “Chain him up,” he said flatly. Two Enforcers moved in and began to shackle Ianthill.
“Drakkius, I cannot allow you to move your army closer to Lux Enor.”
“You have no choice,” Drakkius said with a wave of his hand.
After Ianthill was shackled he grinned at Yarbrille. “Magical chains will not save you.” He whistled. It reverberated off the marble walls and down the halls of the keep. A battalion of Defenders burst into the chamber holding pikes against the surprised Enforcers. Gondrial walked through the chamber doors and stood ready beside Ianthill. Sylvalora also appeared behind him wearing the armored robes taken from Signal Hill. She waved the shackles off Ianthill with a gesture.
“Where have you been?” Ianthill whispered to her. “What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what you are doing
?”
“I have come for a reason, Ianthill.”
Ianthill scowled at her. “It’s foolish for you to be here. You know how the enemy covets you.”
General Trayore, the supreme commander of the Defenders, marched in. “The Enforcers are no longer a force for the good of the people and are hereby dissolved by order of the Warden of Lux Enor. The Defenders will now take up their duties.” The general glared at the Enforcers near him. “Any man wishing absolution may now leave the chamber or be bound to their fate.” There was a pause as if no one knew what to do, and then slowly one Enforcer broke ranks and exited. Afterward, a flurry of several more Enforcers broke away, and Drakkius’s furious expression became evident as he thrust his hands forward, striking down one of the men in mid stride with a bolt of fire.
“Seize him!” General Trayore said, pointing at Drakkius. “This madness must come to an end.” Two Defenders moved toward Drakkius, but both fell before they took two steps. Drakkius twisted his hand, and with a sharp, quick thrust, he sent a dagger hurling at the general. The dagger entered blade first into his chest, and General Trayore’s face contorted horribly as he fell to the floor. Two of the Defenders moved to help him but were intercepted by two Enforcers. The room erupted in a frenzy of swords and pikes. Drakkius took a defensive posture, and Ianthill was pleased to see Yarbrille was trying to get at the maniac. More Enforcers entered the chamber from the corridors, and the Defenders fought them off.
Ianthill immediately went to Trayore’s aid and, seeing his wound, turned to Gondrial. “Where have you left the cleric and his friends?”
The Harrowing Path Page 30
