They came before the Cardurleth. A hail of arrow shafts greeted them. They bore no shields and wore only silvered mail vests, for they needed little defense. Instead, they now held their maces before them and flicked arrows away with deft movements; too deft for their size, but in these creatures great strength and athletic grace were combined: Gilhain knew that and feared it.

  Yet he knew also their weaknesses. Legend spoke of them. Aranloth had discussed it with him. Fire and axes could bring them down.

  He gave a signal. Men brought forth vats of oil, stored at the back of the battlement. These they got ready to pour over the wall, and archers prepared special arrows that would be tied with oil-soaked cloth and set afire.

  The lethrin ceased their march. They stood ready beneath the wall, but they held no ladders. These were being brought up swiftly behind them now by elugs, and with these ladder-carriers came other elugs. They held wide shields constructed of some sort of metal, though they were thin and easily borne.

  This was something new, and Gilhain’s mind raced. Swiftly he considered these new things, double the width of a normal shield, and discovered their purpose. They were not foolproof, but they would offer a greater chance to the lethrin climbing the wall. That was where they had often been defeated in the past, for their numbers were never great and by killing them by fire as they climbed the axemen waiting for them would not be overwhelmed. But now this would not work, for the shields would deflect the oil. And it would take many axemen to kill each lethrin.

  “We’re at risk of being overrun,” Gilhain said.

  “What’s to be done?” Aurellin asked.

  “I’m working on it.”

  At that moment the lethrin did what they had never done before. They raised their heads and in seemingly one voice yelled a single word: Kardoch!

  Gilhain did not know what it meant. But it filled him with a growing worry. It set the lethrin loose like an arrow sped from a bow and they commenced to run toward the wall. And he still had no plan.

  The lethrin were silent once more. Their great strides took them to the base of the Cardurleth, and there, elugs scampering about them, they commenced to climb the ladders brought by their comrades. Up each ladder first went an elug, and each of these lifted one of the strange shields above them. They climbed swiftly for all that they were encumbered, and Gilhain knew they had special straps to help hold the shields to one arm and that also they had spent much time training the maneuver. That could be a good thing, for if they were repelled their moral would sink low. The serpent was destroyed, and if their special surprise method to take the city failed, they would be disheartened.

  But Gilhain must first make that happen. And at last he knew what he was going to do. If the oil was of no use thrown over the battlement, he must use it at the top of the Cardurleth itself.

  He quickly gave orders and they were carried out all down the defenses to each side.

  The lethrin climbed. Up the ladders they came, their long arms hauling them with speed. Their black tunics, trimmed with precious stones, gleamed and sparkled. Their silvered chain mail vests, which left their arms free, glinted. In their mighty hands, though they climbed, they still held their enormous maces.

  The defenders were not idle while the lethrin climbed. Some shot arrows or dropped rocks, but these had little effect. Most were repelled by the lead elug on each ladder that held the strange shields. Anything that slipped past them was shrugged aside by the lethrin like an ox merely flicking its ears in annoyance at a fly. But other men carried out a task of greater importance. They ran oil in a line along the entire length of the Cardurleth assailed by the enemy. When they were done, they stepped back.

  Gilhain waited. To fire it too soon was to allow the lethrin a warning. To fire it too late was to risk them passing over the lip of the battlement and beyond before the flames took hold.

  He gave a signal. A lone horn blew, and men with torches ran forward and dropped them by the score in the oil. Everyone leapt back.

  “Now, have hope!” Gilhain said to Aurellin.

  The lethrin neared. The shield-bearing elugs came first. Over the rampart they came, and fear came with them for they knew their job was done and that they would die. Yet they were surprised that the defenders had backed away.

  Momentarily, hope showed on their faces. Then grim fear again as the flames took to the oil. But the elugs had nowhere to go. The lethrin surged up behind them, forcing them to leap forward like sparkling wine from an uncorked bottle.

  The elugs spilled out on the battlement. Flame took them. They screamed. Some tried to jump back over the battlement to end the pain, but the lethrin still drove them forward. There was no retreat that way.

  Yet the lethrin paused themselves. They saw the flame, and they feared it. While they paused, men shot at them from only a few feet away with their longbows. Neither their toughened hide nor their chainmail vests were entirely proof against attack at such close range. Some died, but those still coming up from behind pushed them ahead even as these had pushed the elugs

  They jumped through the flames. Their black tunics caught alight. But their great maces rose in their hands and they charged at the defenders.

  Gilhain assessed his men. They remained resolute, and pride surged in him. The enemy had thrown everything at them, yet still they held firm. And they held again against the rush of lethrin that now threatened to swamp them.

  The lethrin crashed into them, maces swinging, using their size and weight to try to smash all opposition away. But the men fought doggedly, ducking, weaving, avoiding blows and distracting the enemy as best they could while axemen worked their trade.

  The axes did little damage, but here and there a lethrin fell. When that happened, they were not allowed up again. It was a grim business.

  The battle hung in the balance. The lethrin fought silently. The men fought determinedly. There was no give in either, and yet the fire had not been without effect. It played a small part in the initial rush, but oil splashed up from boots onto skin and clothes. It caught and burned, and it did not go out.

  The lethrin began to waver, yet they had driven the men back and soon the enemy would order another charge. If a new wave of attackers reached the wall, the fight would be lost.

  Gilhain gave the signal that he had waited for patiently. It was now or never, and it would raise morale and speed the fight, or they were all doomed. He turned to the man behind him, his horn-bearer, who held one of the great carnyx horns. He would lead all the horn-blowers, and all down the line they would blow, perhaps a hundred of them.

  The first low note sounded, and the others came to life with it. It was a sound out of the deep reaches of the past, out of the age of heroes. The horns were man high, tall as the tall men who bore them, but they held them up until the brass mouths voiced their unearthly moan twelve feet in the air.

  And so unearthly was the slow growing din that thrummed and boomed and bellowed like a wild beast that goosebumps stood out on Gilhain’s skin. Here was the same sound that rang in the ears of his ancestors as they fought to survive and eventually found realms. Here was the sound that laid their kings to rest since before Cardoroth was even built, back in the dim days when the Camar dwelled nigh to the lands of the Halathrin, back into even dimmer days before that when they lived on the green plains and in the dark forests west of Halathar.

  And the defenders stirred to it. It roiled through their blood. It gave strength to their arms and courage to their hearts. Their axes bit harder. Their eyes burned with the spirit inside them. They fell, but they got up again. They were wounded, but they fought heedless of their injuries. They saw death press at them, but they stared it down.

  And the lethrin faltered. This was courage that they had seldom met, and the fire still burned wherever the oil touched them. Their attack wavered, and then for the first time in the history of Alithoras they turned and fled. And the jeers of the defenders went after them.

  The enemy horde moaned. Their drums ceased to beat and Gilhain yelled in a high, clear voice. Cardoroth!

  14. A High Price

  For Brand the days passed in a strange blend of ease and tension.

  He enjoyed riding with Kareste, but he did not appreciate the feeling of pursuit. Without doubt, the witch was around. If she was as old as she claimed, she would have learned patience if nothing else. He often felt that pinprick tightening of skin on his back that crawled to the top of his scalp – that uneasy sensation of being watched. She was around, and she was waiting, and she would bide her time.

  He was confident however that she would not try anything for a while. She did not disturb them, and she made no overt threat. But her presence was a palpable, if remote thing, and he did not like it. It took away from the sense of comradeship that he had with Kareste: that it was just the two of them alone in the wild and beautiful lands of Alithoras.

  It was still a peaceful time though, all the more so for the fact that trouble lay ahead. He wanted it to last, to continue and to allow his bond with her to grow, but it would not last. Durletha would make another attempt on the staff. Khamdar was likely enough still alive. And ahead of them lay a trial to try to free the Halathrin warriors transformed into fell beasts by dark sorcery.

  Each of these things was a challenge on its own that might test them to their limits and defeat them. Together, just surviving seemed an unreachable goal. And behind them all lay Cardoroth and Brand’s quest to save it. It felt as though the sky had filled with an ocean of dark water that was about to inundate him forever and draw him into its blackness.

  Brand shrugged to himself as he rode. His mistake was to think of these things all together, but in truth they must be broken down and faced one step at a time. Even the greatest challenges could be tackled that way. And right now the only step he needed to concern himself with was finding the Great North Road and the ford that led across the Carist Nien and back into the north of Alithoras.

  The river was close by on the right. The long green grass nearby bent low at the touch of a warm wind, and perspiration beaded his face. The river, beyond the band of trees that lined its bank, was a silver ribbon. Long they had followed it, yet they had seen neither its source nor its end. Alithoras was vast, and even Brand, who had seen more than most, realized that what he had seen so far was like a single sand grain on the shores of Lake Alithorin.

  “We’re getting close,” Kareste said.

  “How far do you think the witch will follow us?”

  Kareste flicked the end of her reins at a fly that kept trying to land on her hand.

  “What do you think?”

  “Well, I guess I know the answer. But I was hoping you’d prove me wrong.”

  She grinned at him, catching his little barb. “I can be a bit like that.”

  In truth, he had no hope at all that Durletha would ever give up, but he knew so little about her.

  “Is she really as old as she claimed?”

  Kareste frowned. “I’m not sure. I don’t really know much about her, but there’s mention of her in the lore of the lòhrens.”

  She seemed to consider this as she rode, reaching back in thought or memory to something learned long ago.

  “She probably told the truth about her age, but there are others beside her. She’s not the only creature of magic that wanders Alithoras, or abides in remote and secret places. There are many powers besides lòhrens and elùgroths, some older and some younger. Some are aligned to the Light, and some to the Shadow, but most stay hidden and pursue their own goals. Some are quite strange, but they do us no harm.”

  “The world is a strange place,” he said.

  “Truly,” she agreed. She became thoughtful then, and after a few moments chanted softly:

  Many things lie

  Beneath the sky

  Beyond the ken

  Of mortal men.

  Brand looked at her quizzically.

  “It’s an old rhyme of lòhren lore,” she explained. “There are many such snatches of verse, and there’s truth embedded in them.”

  Not long after they came to the Great North Road. Brand still thought about what she had said of the other powers in Alithoras, and he wondered yet again what her final allegiance would be, to the Light or to the Shadow. He did not really believe in anything in between. And then he began to question himself as he had done ever since they escaped the tombs of the Letharn: was he right not to try to talk to her and influence her decision?

  As always, he came to the same conclusion – it was better not to. His best option was to lead by example, if he could. Actions spoke louder than words, and people had a habit of doing the opposite of whatever someone tried to talk them into.

  They neared the ford where the road crossed the river. The sun-bleached sky was pale, yet he saw a speck wheeling far away and high up. He had the feeling it was a hawk, that it was Durletha, though of that he could not be sure. It was nothing more than intuition. But Kareste had become subdued, and he guessed that she sensed the same thing that he did.

  The rush and gurgle of the ford was loud.

  “I’m not sure that I want to cross here,” he said.

  “Nor I. Yet there’s nowhere else.”

  That was true, but it did not mean that he had to like it.

  They moved ahead warily. Here, the trees that usually banded the river gave way to deep drifts of sand and to coarse gravel. And there were boulders and hollowed out pits where rushing water had gouged the ground. It was all in the open, and yet there were many places that people could hide.

  The mighty river was wide here, so wide that the far bank seemed a long way away, and yet the frothy water flowed and bubbled as though the riverbed were only a foot or so below its sun-glinting surface. But closer than the far bank, perhaps half way across, was a little island of sand and driftwood. The Great North Road ran straight and true, and there were signs of it even on the island.

  Brand was in no hurry. He waited and watched, and Kareste did the same beside him. His feeling of unease grew, though he saw no sign of anything disturbing.

  The silence built. The only sound was that of the river, and far away the high-pitched call of the wheeling hawk. Insects flickered through the humid air, drawn to the water, and a fish leaped high and quick in search of a meal, and then dropped back with a splash into the river.

  Eventually, there was movement. A man emerged from behind one of the boulders halfway down the slope to the river’s edge.

  The man was scar faced and grim. He was tall, his black hair long and lank. His clothes seemed strange, a patchwork of items gathered here and there, none of them clean. A sword was belted at his side, and there was a lump here and there in his clothing where other weapons were likely hidden. Beneath thick brows his eyes were narrow and dark. Brand read meanness there, or worse, but the man tried to mask his natural features with a pretense of friendliness.

  “Well met, fellow travelers.”

  Brand inclined his head slightly, but he did not take his eyes off the man.

  “Hello,” he said in a voice that was friendly but not especially encouraging of further conversation.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just passing through,” Brand answered. He was attempting to be as short as he possibly could without being rude. He did not wish to start anything here, but he knew that the choice of that was not likely going to be his.

  The man showed a flicker of irritation, but he soon covered it. His strategy, and Brand knew it was a strategy, was to lull suspicion by friendly talk. He was not alone. Others remained hidden, and there was going to be trouble.

  “Perhaps you have some food to share with someone who hasn’t eaten in days?” The man said awkwardly. He had been forced to come to the point more quickly than he wished.

  Brand had seen the starved and the hungry before. Faces came to him out of the past, before he had come to Cardoroth. This man was neither of those things. Still, generosity was never a bad thing, and he would do whatever could be done to avoid a fight.

  “A little,” he answered, with a quick warning look to Kareste. “We’re willing to share what we have.”

  “Then come down by the river,” Scarface said. “It’s cool near the water.”

  There was a pause, and Brand made no move. “Come up and join us.”

  Scarface did not answer. There was a longer pause this time, and his expression slowly changed. The pretense of friendliness dropped away as he realized that he had not fooled the two travelers.

  “Come out, boys,” he said over his shoulder. “They’re on to us. Not that it’ll help them.”

  Men came out of their hiding spots. Some were concealed in the declivities; some behind boulders. Several even emerged from the water. They would have been set there as a last resort in case the riders sped through before any trap could be properly sprung.

  Brand noted that some of the men did indeed look hungry. But not Scarface, nor those who came to stand closest to him. Some were well armed and dressed, but he was pleased that none carried bows.

  Scarface spoke when his men had gathered around him.

  “It’s food we want, but we’ll take everything else as well.” His grin turned to a leer when he looked at Kareste.

  Brand wondered what the man would think if he knew of the massive diamond that was stashed away in one of his saddlebags. It was a kingly gift from Gilhain; and a gift that Brand had no intention of losing to the likes of Scarface and his men. Yet he and Kareste must cross the ford.

  In the silence that ensued, Scarface spoke again. “Most especially, I like your helm and sword.”

  Brand looked at him coolly. When he answered, his voice was neutral. He did not wish to provoke anything here if it could be avoided.

  “Both those items come at a high price.”

  Scarface laughed. “I have men enough to help me pay. More than enough.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17