The route out of Taliltan had taken them along the northern road, which ran next to the coast, but at the first crossing they turned westward. To an observer, the thirteen black horses could have been an omen of ill fate, though none in the group paid attention to the count. The roads in the Lost Lands were much like the land itself— rough and haphazardly hewn.
Xith and Noman spoke quietly but tersely, their voices barely carrying above the plodding of hooves. “You know what will happen when we reach Tsitadel?” Xith asked.
“I have no doubt. He’s known all along.”
“And the wards revealed the mark?”
“Yes, yes,” hissed Noman. “We were but fools to hope otherwise.”
“May the Father keep us,” Xith said quietly, reverently, as he urged his mount on, ending the conversation.
Mountains carved the land into awkward sections, running straight from the beginnings of the Stone Mountains in the South. Spiraling arms led inland at first and then jutted north. Further north they split in two, dissecting the country into thirds. The seat of the broken land lay far to the north, and the hand of the regent rarely reached the sleepy villages that dotted the eastern coast.
Trading was the most important thing in these parts, where in the storm season your wealth mattered not so much as the usefulness of your possessions. Only a few towns lay inland away from the sea, and the small borough they would pass through come nightfall was one of them. A piece of gold there was as useless as the edge of a blade would be against the frozen rock they traveled across.
Thoughts of Tsitadel were prevalent on most everyone’s minds. It had once been a catalyst of might, and its home tucked away in the snowy north had proven to be its bane and its greatest blessing. Xith knew the battlements it sported better than most although Amir was the only one of the company who could attest to their strength. Beyond its portcullises and gatehouses, and within its barbicans, bastions, parapets and long, sleek, lofty walls, was the very thing they sought.
A fine mist of tightly compact snow flurries fell upon them as the sun mounted in the sky, only partially blocked by a modest cloud cover. Noman shifted his attentions to Xith and Amir and brooded. Seeing clouds looming about the mountains in the distance sparked sad memories. He wondered about the children and what would become of them in the end. His turn as the guardian was coming to a close and he wondered if Amir could tell that his days were also numbered.
He hadn’t told Xith that on the last day in Krepost’ his vision of the paths had returned; he had kept that to himself. He watched Amir for a time and saw his agitation, understanding it. He meandered with his mount among all his companions as the hours of afternoon swept by, looking to each of their faces and speaking quietly to them. He came lastly to Adrina, not knowing if she would have the strength it would take. He told himself she would, or rather hoped she would. Then he told her a thing that perhaps he should not have. He told her of the hidden dreamers and the mystics who walked the paths. “Remember,” he told her, “The thrall can only hold the willing.”
As they had all hoped, a small village nestled on the lee side of a rounded hollow came into view as the day waned. Xith bartered with the innkeeper over the worth of the baubles he had collected in the market of Krepost’, and they were given rooms for the evening. The small inn only had two sleeping rooms barely large enough for four apiece and two chambers that held nothing but a single cot. The party required them all, and still three would go without a place to lie down this night.
Xith, Noman, and Amir took up residence downstairs while the others retired upstairs. Later, the three found comfort in a private room which was normally reserved for special occasions. It was divided from the main hall with doors that could be secured from the inside. They also found sleep, but not too quickly for they had much to discuss before the start of the day.
For the most part, the conversation had not led anywhere until Xith properly cleared the air. He understood all too well the coming events. He was frank when he asked, “Will you tell them before we reach Tsitadel or will you just let them discover it on their own?” Amir started to respond, not because he thought the question had been directed at him, but rather because he had just realized the issue himself.
“Is it true?” he asked, savoring the words.
“Yes, perhaps,” replied Noman, “but not the way you would hope. It is too long a road to know for sure.”
“How else could it be?” questioned Amir.
“It would be best if I said nothing, but I think that you are wise enough to make your own decision when the time comes,” began Noman, as if only he and Amir were in the room. He continued, still ignoring Xith’s presence, but not meaning to offend the shaman either. “Old friend, the time of choice is ahead. You must choose one of two ways.” His voice trailed off to a whisper as he said the next few words, “It is as before.” And then he became very articulate and earnestly forthright as he finished, “He will offer you peace eternal. Will you take it?”
Noman did not wait for Amir to respond; he promptly turned to Xith and said, “No, I will not tell them. It is not for me to tell. Yet be that as it may, you are free to do as you will. But in so saying, I have one thing to ask of you also. It is simple. Just remember your time of servitude, what brought you to the path you have embarked upon.”
Xith considered Noman’s words at length before he offered his response, a gentle smile, as he touched his head against his rolled up cloak and closed his eyes. A heavy rap on the closed doors startled everyone, and caused Xith, who was nearly asleep, to jump up. They relaxed when a recognizable voice asked them if they required anything before the other retired and as they didn’t, the innkeeper walked away.
Before the group left the inn the following day, they gathered some food stuffs they had not had time to purchase in Taliltan and with fresh breads and dried meats tucked into their satchels alongside newly acquired water bottles they departed. Adrina was feeling rather groggy this morning. Her stomach was upset and it was all she could do to keep her breakfast down. She told no one that the dragon mark upon her was growing—had been growing the further north they went. A stint on horseback did not improve her feelings either, and she was growing irritable; however, as afternoon came on, her sickness passed.
The small town would be the last remnant of civilization they would see for days and the farther inland they went, the deeper the snows became and the narrower the trail they followed. They continued west despite the obvious lack of a path, bending to a slightly northerly course from time to time. As if two nights of sleeping on cold ground with little fuel for fires had not been bad enough, the third day, a storm front nestled itself along the foot of the mountains in front of them.
The night ahead promised to be snow-filled and cold. Against the general consensus, Xith drove them to continue on well after darkness fell. The winds had picked up and thick snow flurries cascaded downward, whipped about by the gales. Xith had no intention of freezing to death on an open trail and continued to lead them, despite numerous requests to stop. At first, Nijal had spoken mostly on Adrina’s behalf and upon her request, but now he also wanted to stop and try to set up camp somewhere. They had passed through many good hollows, as he saw it.
Amir chuckled as he listened to Xith swear under his breath. “Ahead to the right,” he whispered. Not paying attention to the voice, Xith started to answer, “But how can you see?” But he cut himself short and instead returned to his mutterings. Needless to say, he turned to a strong northerly course. The shadows in the stand of trees he searched for loomed a short distance away.
The trees afforded shelter from the storm and its snow and also provided them with an abundant supply of wood for their campfire. All grumbling, including Xith’s, ceased as sparks were touched to the first timbers. A few hours were passed with warm and cheerful talk. Shchander even found a song within him, borrowing a few words from the first song that sprang into his mind. Its nonsensical words seemed to make sense under the canopy of trees with the fire reflecting upon the boughs, and he came to understand the song’s meaning.
After an early morning start under dreary skies, the sun appeared and at first the mountains seemed so close that they might be able to reach out and touch them; nevertheless, they were still hours away. A squat series of swells leading to the base of the rocky peaks needed to be traversed first, but once the companions reached the hills, Xith promised that they would be able to see the outer walls of Tsitadel.
Only a few hours of the darkness remained. In all, the night would not be counted as a complete loss. They had accomplished much this night, and the enemy had been forced to withdraw to a different position. Horror came with the first shafts of light; the invaders had withdrawn, but their numbers had doubled. Machines of war and of siege loomed across the horizon, waiting to move and to strike.
At the vanguard of the first assault came the machines of war; they did not roll or creak with the turnings of wheels, but instead they moved across the plain with ease and in silence. Valam wondered at their size and configuration; only a devious mind could have constructed such tools. Spiked walls with slits for arrows attached to rams preceded mobile catapults and ballistae at staggered intervals, allowing clear shots for the engines of devastation.
The speed with which the machines swept across the land was incredible and unfathomable as they were upon the defenders before they could properly react. Walls of spikes met the shield wall in a fit of tumultuous rage. Screams of panic and despair arose as man-size projectiles careened through the air, meeting many a target and more often than not piercing two or three through before their velocity slowed. The struggle began again.
Valam no longer had time to ponder the origins of the enemy’s devices of terror and destruction—he was face to face with them. He looked first to Seth for advice, but just as he did so a shaft of bright sunlight fell upon him. He shielded his eyes from its sting with his hand before he adjusted to the new light. He blinked wildly several times as the white haze cleared.
The enemy stood facing them; they had not advanced. Neither side had attacked yet. The survey did not last long before the first cries to arms rang loudly. Valam rubbed his tired eyes and then, still puzzled, he poured water from his water bag into a cupped palm and splashed it onto his face. Many others were mounted and scrambling, or just scrambling, as Valam finally got onto the back of his horse.
The battle strategy they had conceived during the night began to unfold, but it was clear that the invaders had been making plans of their own. A large toll of dead at the place where the enemy camp had been set up the previous night told of the deeds of the Brown. A trail of bodies led all the way back to the enemy’s current location. There was no sign of those who had delivered the deed, and it was assumed that they lay somewhere among the casualties in the field.
Valam wished he could be elsewhere right now. His heart was not in fighting this day. Doubt filled his thoughts. He no longer knew if he had the prowess necessary to prevail. He desperately needed to find strength and resolve.
A voice called to Valam, “Your dreams can carry you far in an instant. You can walk the paths of an entire lifetime in a single beat of your heart. Open your mind to me for an instant. My will is straining—act quickly.” The voice was warm and compelling. It held compassion and perhaps love. Valam could not resist it, so he did as it bade and opened his mind.
Images of the thousands around him faded as he followed the voice. “I have seen you in my dreams many times. Here take my hand. It was not time before. We must try again.” Valam went where the beautiful voice bade him to go. A vision, only an outline at first formed. Her hands felt warm in his as they began to go up a long winding staircase.
His heart was pounding so wildly he could hear its clamor. He had wanted this very thing to happen to him so desperately that he completely freed his mind. The two climbed for what seemed hours until they finally reached the summit. “Am I dreaming?” asked Valam of himself with a last moment of resolve. “You are dreaming the living dream,” came the response into his mind as the other pressed tightly against him.
Valam moved forward to kiss her. As he did so, a sudden bright light filled the chamber and everything became clear. The sunlight bathed the thin dress she wore and highlighted the outline of her body beneath. She undressed and then began to undress him, and he let her. Her eyes were serene as she watched him and a gentle smile touched her lips. The smile grew to laughter as she pulled him to a nearby bed. Valam began to ask a question, but she forced him into silence with her lips. He held her tightly now, recalling fond memories from an earlier time.
She moved back suddenly and her smile turned to a laugh as she drew him in. Her face blurred and then returned. Valam scrambled back to the wall. A gasp fell from his lips as he did so. The laughter turned to a shrill cackle. A voice lifted mockingly to his ears, “The mightiest of the western lands falls to the simple guiles of a female. I have searched throughout the night for you and now at last I have found you. And I can also see that I have your attention. Do I not? Valam, Prince of Fools.”
Anger raged through Valam as he glared at the creature that sat before him. The thing reached out its hands and touched his legs. His body began to tremble as a chill overcame him. Distraught, Valam clenched his hands around the creature’s neck and began strangling it. The roar of the voice rose as it sneered at him with new fervor. “Squeeze harder, go ahead. Kill the messenger. Its will was already spent in the delivery. I command you—kill, feel the blood upon your hands as you extinguish life.
“Do not fear for your life, my sweet prince, I have not come for you this day. Oh no, your suffering will not be so quickly over. Your death will be long and drawn out. You will die only when I am finished with you. Go ahead, kill her. Try harder. I know you are stronger than that. I have come only to give you a warning and a possible way out. If you turn back now, you may return to your own lands and in time you may save them. If you stay, you will find death, but not your own, until I have had my fill. Which will it be?”
Valam’s reasoning became warped and twisted as his grip clasped increasingly tighter. He was beginning to enjoy killing and his face lit up. “I will not go. You will have to kill me first!” shouted Valam. As he spoke, his hands crushed the hideous creature’s windpipe, and then he heard the neck snap. He was happy, and he cast it away without remorse.
“I leave you with only one image to contemplate—reality,” laughed the voice wickedly as it faded away. The glowing of yellow eyes loomed in front of him as he returned. He found himself kneeling in the snow. His hands were still clenched. He gasped as he saw a pair of eyes looking up at him. In them he saw pity and no fear. He began to cry as he recognized the face. “What have I done?” he wailed, “What have I done?”
“You will pay for this!” said Valam through tears, “We will destroy your army in the field of battle, where there is honor. And I will do it again and again relentlessly until I have avenged your trickery! I will chase you to the ends of time!” He stopped, for he could no longer continue. He picked Tsandra up tenderly from the snow, brushing it off her face. Endless tears rolled down his cheeks. “I will get you!” he vowed.
Brodst stood perplexed at the crossing of two corridors. He could only guess which he should take. The weight on his shoulder was heavy, and he desperately needed a reprieve from its burden. He did not delay at the corner much longer; instead, he turned right, marking the characteristics of the adjacent hall into his memory. He finally came to a halt in a secluded alcove.
Although he tried to put Calyin down onto the floor as gently as possible, she still fell rather unceremoniously and immediately afterwards he slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor. He was exhausted and his body ached. The sudden intake of nourishment had done him more harm than good. He had eaten more than he should have after going without food for so long.
He grabbed Calyin’s chin and swung her eyes up to look into his. He could see that they were beginning to focus again, and the color was returning to her face; but he still was determined not to remove the restraint from her mouth. She had already aroused enough attention for one day. He sat idle for as long as he dared before he continued on.
For the most part, the halls were empty and he assumed that a meeting still ensued in the central chamber though he did not know how much longer he could count on the quiet continuing. Most of the corridors off the hall where Calyin had been held led to private chambers, which confused him more than helped him in his search. He couldn’t understand the reason a single cell would stand by itself with such an elaborate control system leading to it. Locked doors, guard houses, and check points that led to only one place, and after a time his puzzlement brought him back to the hallways he had come down.
He jingled the ring of keys around in his hand, contemplating each, a ring of nine keys in all, and he tried to recall the number of doors he had passed. One key stood out as odd, perhaps older than the others, and more finely crafted. He remembered that that was the key that belonged to the innermost door. He walked back along the chamber, depositing Calyin behind the second door, which he locked.
He fit all the keys to doors along the chamber save two. He held the two up and inspected them closely beneath the light of a torch. A stirring sound startled him and he broke away from what he was doing, quickly running back to the innermost door. One of the guards within was beginning to arouse. He cursed himself for not killing them all and went back in and finished the job he should have done earlier. He also took the time to properly and thoroughly search each of them; he had been in too much of a rush before to do so. He didn’t find much of use.
A rasping sound from far off forced him to stop and at first he thought it was Calyin groaning. He claimed one helmet for his own and another blade and ran back up the corridor. He bent down and checked Calyin, but she was still incoherent. He heard the sound again. After he began to look around, he looked up to the barred window. A face pressed close to it startled him. His heart jumped, and his breath was heavy and shallow.
“Um, yes?” he said dumbly as he stood. A small hand raised a bucket up to the window, and Brodst almost broke into laughter. His mind began working quickly; the smile left his face and his eyes turned angry. “You, errand—” began the captain. All the while he spoke he squeezed his palms together, “You are in the wrong area! This one has already been fed.”
The figure staggered back under his apparent wrath, “But, but—”
“Don’t interrupt me. Do I need to accompany you personally? Is that what you need? Do you need someone to hold your hand to ensure you do the job right the first time?”
“No sir, no sir. I’ll be off straightaway.”
“Wait, wait, hold on there,” stated Brodst, again thinking quickly. “I still think I had better accompany you.”
“No need, I promise you.”
“No need indeed. Halt where you are!”
Not knowing what to do as the boy disappeared, Captain Brodst unlocked the door and went to chase him. Unfortunately, the boy was still standing in the hall; he had only been out of eyesight. He saw the body of Calyin on the ground and began to scream. It was all Brodst could do to catch the boy before he scrambled away. He had one hand tight around the boy’s mouth and the other attached to the scruff of the boy’s shirt as he dragged him back down the hall kicking. The boy’s hollow screams were only loud enough to reach the captain’s ears.
Brodst saw the fear in the boy’s eyes and used it to his advantage. He brought the tip of his knife up close to the boy’s neck and pressed it tight until it pierced the skin. After a long one-sided conversation the two came to terms. The boy was scared to death; that was very clear. “What is your name?” asked the captain, seeking to calm the boy’s nerves.
“J-J-J-Ja-cob,” whispered the boy, barely audibly.
“Jacob is it? I knew a Jacob once and he was a fine man. Now you listen close and listen well.” Brodst paused and continued slowly, “I will not hurt you unless you try to run. I do not wish to kill you, but I will in the blink of an eye if you try to run. Do you understand?”
Jacob nodded that he did and his shivers calmed a little. Brodst picked up Calyin and then ushered the boy on, taking great care to return the blade to his free hand and then put his arm around the boy’s neck. “Take me down no central corridors, you hear. I do not want to see another living thing. Now, move slowly, and remember—if you act wisely, I will not harm you. I promise.”
Brodst moved through the long corridors, maintaining a prudent step. He tried not to delay much, but in his weakened state the burden upon his shoulder seemed to grow, until he was finally forced to stop. He had rested three times now, and the restlessness of his companion was increasing with each such stop. He stood eyeing the boy; he could read the other’s thoughts well. Any moment now, Jacob would try to make his escape.
The time arrived sooner than Brodst expected, and almost immediately after he had bent down to raise Calyin to his shoulder. “Smart, very smart,” thought Brodst as he snagged the boy by the scruff of his collar. Captain Brodst reiterated his earlier promise, ensuring that Jacob understood the benefits of obeying him. “How far from here?”
“Not very far, I promise,” whispered Jacob in a soft voice.
“How many guards will there be?” asked the captain. Jacob shrugged his shoulders feigning that he did not know. “How many guards will there be?” spoke Brodst repeating the question.
“Yo-o-u-u’re, no-o-t go-go-ing to-to k-k-k-ill him are yo-o-u?”
“Not if you help me. If you help me, I will kill no one unless it becomes necessary. I promise. Do you know the guard on duty?”
“Y-y-ye-e-s, I th-th-th-ink so-o—”
“Jacob, listen to me closely, I am a man of honor. We hold to our word. I hold to the warrior’s oath. And if I make a promise by my own code I must keep it. Do your people have an oath of truth?”
“Y-y-e-s.”
“Would you like to be a warrior someday? Yes, I think you would make a fine one. If you help me, I and my friends will leave, and we will not come back. This I promise.”
“But you are spies, and spies should die,” said Jacob, suddenly filled with bravado.
“Spies? Spies,” said Brodst. “We are nothing of the sort.”
“Your friends are devils and demons with the wings of bats and they eat people.”
“Eat people? Do I look like I could eat another man?” chuckled Brodst, “Who has been filling your mind with this nonsense?”
“No one. I have eyes. I can see.”
The captain put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and while looking him straight in the eye, said, “That is nonsense. Do you see this woman here? Is she not fair and beautiful? How could you say such a thing about one so pure? Does she look evil to you?”
“N-n-no—” replied Jacob returning to his stammering.
“What if I told you that she is a princess of a fair and wonderful land and all we are trying to do is find peace, to bring our land to peace. If you help us, we can continue on our quest; and if we are lucky we will find a way to return peace to our land. Will you help us, Jacob?”
Jacob had listened intently to each word; his eyes seemed to perk up at the mention of a quest, and he envisioned it a grand a wondrous thing. This man called Brodst did seem to speak the truth. “I will try, but you must cast away your blade.” Captain Brodst threw it away without a second thought; he did, after all, have several backups.
The walk to the place that Jacob promised that Brodst’s other companions were held was short and went without mishap. A barred, closed door stood at the end of the hall before them. The plan was unfolding well. Brodst smiled as he slid Calyin, still unconscious, to the floor. As he did so, he looked to the movement of the shadows cast upon the floor by a light in the interior of the other hall. Mixed with the lines of the bars mounted in the door, they had an odd shape, but he thought he could discern only one distinct figure. The other shadows were perhaps reflections off an adjacent light.
The captain motioned for Jacob to proceed down the hall as planned. “Go on,” he whispered, while waving a second time. He turned to look behind him hesitantly, knowing what he would find; and as he turned, he also muttered a curse under his breath. Jacob was gone. He looked around the corner, both left and right, but the boy was nowhere in sight. Despite his situation, he saw the humor in the moment. He had been outwitted hands down.
He sat there, engrossed in thought, contemplating how long it would be before the boy sounded an alarm that would cause his end. The longer he remained idle, the more foolish his resolve seemed; but in the end, he found no recourse but to continue. He sorted through the new possibilities, and thought it best to continue with his original idea. He slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his cloak to retrieve the keys and for an instant his eyes grew wide with dismay and horror until he remembered which pocket he had placed the keys in. The bulge was quite obvious, so he did not search for long.
He quietly walked toward the door, guarding each footfall, waiting until the shadow grew short before he tried to put a key to the lock. He cringed with each clank or jingle the keys made on the ring as he turned through them, holding his breath and closing his eyes in a hurried petition. As his palms began to grow moist, his hands began to shake and his fingers started fumbling against the lock.
The quivering spread to his body; trembling, he collapsed against the wall. He paused, fearing to move, and he heard footsteps growing closer. He waited, afraid to even breathe, until the footfalls faded away again. To his amazement, the next key he raised to the hole caused a resonant click, more similar to a dull thud. As he had his ear pressed against the door, it sounded loud as he turned it.
He did not open the door or attempt to open it. He waited, unsure of the sound of the footsteps from within. He sat motionless until they began to fade away, but he did not make his move quite yet. He pulled himself together first, mentally coaxing the fatigue away. He paused until he heard the sounds again, but still he waited until they turned away. As they did so, he slid the door open, ever so cautiously.
He regarded the back of the figure moving down the hall through a narrow slit until he was confident he could make his move. After he had removed his boots, he slithered through the opening noiselessly, returning the door to its original position. As it clicked close again, he crawled on his haunches down the hall, moving slowly at first and then gaining momentum, until he half stood and half crawled. He was standing hunched over as the figure turned back towards him, drawing his weapon as he did so; but by that time Brodst was upon him at full force. His initial blow knocked the guard sprawling to the floor; his sword slipped down the hall one way and his body slammed half into the wall and half against the ground the other way.
Brodst hadn’t intended to kill the man, but the other did not move again. He wondered if Jacob had been here now what the boy would have thought. Would the boy have accepted it as an accident? Brodst didn’t have time for regrets and he pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He retrieved Calyin, placing the door’s lock back in place. After he put back on his boots, he carried her down to the far end of the corridor.
He fumbled through all the keys in his ring until he discovered the one that fit the lock. The detention area was set up in a series of circling cells that split off to the left, right, and straight ahead. Not knowing which way to go, he turned right first. It seemed a logical place to begin. His face lit with joy; after several disappointments, he came to an occupied cell. Strangely, the cell was unlocked, and its occupant sat in a dazed stupor.
Brodst immediately smelled the stench of liquor and vomit in the room. He stared for a long time at the face, but since he didn’t recognize the other, he began to turn away. Confused and angry, he stomped off, swearing loudly. He hoped he would never find Jacob again, or he just might strangle the boy.