A Darkness at Sethanon (59 page)

Amos said, “And
I don’t think those chieftains look happy with the offer
either.” Several moredhel leaders were exchanging hurried words
with one another behind Murmandamus’s back. “I think
things are rapidly becoming less than harmonious among the Dark
Brothers.”

“Let us
hope,” said Guy flatly.

Murmandamus’s
horse spun and danced nervously as he shouted, “What, then, is
your answer?”

Arutha stepped
up on a box, so he might better be seen above the wall. “I say
return to the north,” he shouted. “You have invaded lands
that hold no bounty for you. Even now armies are marching against
you. Return to the north before the passes are choked with snow and
you die a cold and lonely death, far from your home.”

Murmandamus’s
voice rose as he said, “Who speaks for the city?”

There was a
moment’s silence, then Arutha shouted, “I, Arutha
conDoin, Prince of Krondor, Heir to the throne of Rillanon,”
and then he added a title not officially his, “Lord of the
West.”

Murmandamus
shrieked an inhuman cry of rage and something else, perhaps fear, and
Jimmy nudged Amos. The former thief said, “That’s torn
it. He’s definitely not amused.”

Amos only
grinned and patted the young man on the shoulder. From the ranks of
Murmandamus’s army there arose a murmuring as Amos said, “It
sounds as if his army doesn’t like it either. Omens that turn
out false can undermine a superstitious lot like these.”

Murmandamus
cried, “Liar! False Prince! It is known the Prince of Krondor
was slain! Why do you prevaricate? What is your purpose?”

Arutha stood
higher, his features clear to see. The chieftains rode about in
milling circles, engaged in animated discussion. He removed his
talisman, given by the Abbot at Sarth, and held it forth. “By
this talisman am I protected from your arts.” He handed it down
to Jimmy. “Now you know the truth.”

Murmandamus’s
constant companion, the Pantathian serpent priest, Cathos came
forward at a shambling run. He tugged upon the stirrup of his
master’s saddle, pointing at Arutha and speaking at a furious
rate in the hissing language of his people. With a shriek of rage,
Murmandamus kicked him away, knocking him to the ground. Amos spat
over the wall. “I think that convinced them.”

The chieftains
looked angry and moved as a group toward Murmandamus. He seemed to
recognize the moment was slipping away from him. He spun his mount in
a full circle, the warhorse’s hooves striking the fallen
serpent priest in the head, rendering him senseless.

Murmandamus
ignored his fallen ally and the approaching chieftains. “Then,
foul opposer,” he cried toward the wall, “death comes to
embrace you!” He spun to face his army, and pointed back at the
city. “Attack!”

The army was
poised for the assault and moved forward. The chieftains could not
countermand the order. All they could do was ride at once to take
charge of their clans. Slowly the horsemen moved up behind the
advancing elements of infantry, ready to rush the gates.

Murmandamus rode
to his command position as the first rank of goblins walked over the
unconscious body of the serpent priest. It was not clear if the
Pantathian had died from the horse’s kick or not, but by the
time the last rank had passed over, only a bloody carcass lay in a
robe.

Arutha raised
his hand and held it poised, dropping it when the first rank came
within catapult range. “Here,” said Jimmy, handing back
the talisman. “It might come in handy.”

Missiles struck
the advancing host and they faltered, then continued forward. Soon
they were running toward the walls, while bowmen offered covering
fire from behind shield walls. Then the first rank hit trenches
hidden by canvas and dirt and fell upon the buried, fire-hardened
stakes. Others threw shields upon their writhing comrades and ran
over their impaled bodies. The second and third ranks were decimated,
but others came forward, and scaling ladders were placed against the
walls, and the battle for Sethanon was joined.

The first wave
swarmed up the ladders and were met with fire and steel by the
defenders. The men of Highcastle provided the leadership and example
that kept the inexperienced defenders of the city from being swept
away. Amos, de la Troville, du Masigny, and Guy were linchpins for
the defence of the city, always appearing where needed.

For nearly an
hour the battle teetered as if poised upon the point of a dagger,
with the attackers only barely able to gain a foothold upon the
battlements before they were thrown back. Still as one rush was
repulsed, another would be mounted from a different quarter and soon
it was apparent that all would hinge upon some chance of fate, for
the two opposing forces were in equilibrium.

Then a giant
ram, fashioned within the dark glades of the Dimwood, was rolled
forward, toward the southern gate of the city. Without a moat, there
were only the traps and trenches to slow its advance and those were
quickly covered with wooden planking laid over the bodies of the
dead. It was a tree bole, easily ten feet in diameter. It rolled on
six giant wheels and was pulled by a dozen horsemen. A dozen giants
pushed from behind using long poles. The thing gathered speed as it
rumbled toward the gate. Soon the horses were cantering and the
riders peeled off, turning away from the answering hail of arrows.
The sluggish giants were replaced by faster goblins, whose primary
task was to keep the thing on course and moving. It rolled toward the
outer gates of the barbican, and nothing the defenders could do would
stop it.

It struck the
gates with a thunderous crash, the shattering of wood and protests of
metal hinges torn from the walls heralding a breach in the city’s
defences. The gates were flung back into the barbican, twisting as
they fell under the wheels of the ram. The front end of the ram
lifted as it bounced off the tilting gates, momentum carrying it
upward as it struck against the right wall of the barbican. Suddenly
the invaders were provided with a clear entrance to the city. Up the
tottering ram and leaning gates the goblins swarmed, gaining the top
of the barbican. Suddenly the balance was tipped.

Atop the
barbican the defenders were forced back.

The invaders
reached a point above the inner gate as more goblins and moredhel
swarmed up the accidental ramps. Arutha called the reinforcement
company forward. They hurried to where the first goblins were
dropping into the courtyard before the massive bar that held the
inner gates in place. The fighting before the gates was fierce, but
soon goblin bowmen were driving the defenders away, despite the fire
directed at them from other parts of the wall. The bar was being
hoisted when shrieks and cries went up from outside. The fighting
slowed, as those engaged sensed something odd was occurring. Then all
eyes looked heavenward.

Descending from
the sky was a dragon, its scales glinting in the sun. Upon its back
three figures could be seen. The giant animal swooped downward with
an astonishing roar, as if about to pounce upon the attackers before
the gates and the goblins began to flee.

Ryath spread her
wings and swooped into a low glide above the heads of the attackers,
as Tomas waved his golden sword aloft. She trumpeted her battle cry
and the goblins beneath her broke and ran.

Tomas looked
about, seeking signs of this Murmandamus, but could see only a sea of
horsemen and infantry in all directions. Then arrows began to speed
past. Most were harmlessly bouncing off the dragon’s scales,
but the Prince Consort of Elvandar knew a well-placed shot could
strike between the overlapping plates or in the eye and the dragon
could be injured. He ordered Ryath to enter the city.

The dragon
landed in the market, some distance from the gate, but Arutha was
already running toward them, with Galain behind. Pug and Tomas both
leaped lightly down, while Macros was more sedate in his dismount.

Arutha gripped
Pug’s hand. “It is good to see you again, and making so
timely an entrance.”

Pug said, “We
hurried, but we had some delays upon the way.”

Tomas had been
greeted by Galain, and Arutha in turn clasped his hand, both of them
obviously pleased to see each other alive. Then Arutha saw Macros.
“So you didn’t die, then?”

Macros said,
“Apparently not. It is good to see you again, Prince Arutha.
More pleasant than you can imagine.”

Arutha looked at
the signs of battle about him and considered the relative quiet. From
distant quarters the sounds of battle carried, signifying only that
the assault upon the gate had ceased. “I don’t know how
long they’ll wait before they rush the barbican again.”
He glanced down the street toward the gate. “You gave them a
start, and I think Murmandamus is having trouble with some of his
chieftains, but not enough to benefit us, I’m afraid. And I
don’t think I can hold them here. When they come again, they’ll
swarm over that ram.”

“We can
help,” said Pug.

“No,”
said Macros.

All eyes turned
toward the sorcerer. Arutha said, “Pug’s magic could
counter Murmandamus’s.”

“Has he
used any spellcraft against you so far?”

Arutha thought.
“Why no, not since Armengar.”

“He won’t.
He must harbour it against the moment he has won into the city. And
the bloodshed and terror benefit his cause. There is something here
he wants, and we must keep him from getting it.”

Arutha looked at
Pug. “What is happening here?”

A messenger came
running toward them. “Highness! The enemy masses for another
attack on the gate.”

Macros said,
“Who is your second?”

“Guy du
Bas-Tyra.”

Pug looked
startled at the news but said nothing. Macros said, “Murmandamus
will not use magic, except perhaps to destroy you if he can, Arutha,
so you must turn command of the city over to du Bas-Tyra and come
with us.”

“Where are
we going?”

“Some
place near here. If all else fails, it will be our cause to prevent
the complete destruction of your nation. We must keep Murmandamus
from his final goal.”

Arutha
considered a moment. He said to Galain, “Orders to du Bas-Tyra.
He is to take command. Amos Trask is to assume his role as
second-in-command.”

“Where
will Your Highness be?” asked the soldier next to the elf.

Macros took
Arutha by the arm. “He’ll be someplace where no one can
reach him. If we are victorious, we shall all meet again.” He
didn’t bother saying what would happen if they were defeated.

They hurried
down the street, past shuttered doors as the citizens huddled safely
within their homes. One bold boy looked out a second floor window
just as Ryath lumbered past, and with wide eyes slammed the window.
The sounds of battle came from the walls as they rounded a corner
into an alley. Macros spun to face the Prince. “What you see,
what you hear, what you learn must always remain a trust. Besides
yourself, only the King and your brother Martin may know the secrets
you’ll learn today - and your heirs,” he added with a dry
note, “if any. Swear.” It was not a request.

Arutha said, “I
swear.”

Macros said,
“Tomas, you must discover where the Lifestone lies, and, Pug,
you must take us there.”

Tomas looked
about. “It was ages ago. Nothing resembles . . .” He
closed his eyes. He appeared to the others to be in some trance
state. Then he said, “I feel it.”

Without opening
his eyes, he said, “Pug, can you take us . . . there!” He
pointed down and to the centre of the city. He opened his eyes. “It
is below the entrance to the keep.”

Pug said, “Come,
join hands.”

Tomas looked
toward the dragon, saying, “You have done all you can. I thank
you.”

Ryath said,
“With thee I shall come, one more time.” She regarded the
sorcerer and then Tomas. “With certainty do I know my fate. I
must not seek to avoid it.”

Pug looked at
his companions and said, “What does she mean?” Arutha’s
expression mirrored Pug’s.

Macros did not
speak. Tomas said, “You have not told us before.”

“There was
no need, friend Tomas.”

Macros
interrupted. “We can speak of this once we’ve reached our
destination. Ryath, once we have ceased moving, come to us.”

Tomas said, “The
chamber will be large enough.”

“I shall.”

Pug pushed his
confusion aside and took Arutha’s hand. The other was joined
with Tomas’s, and Macros completed the circle. They all became
insubstantial and began to move.

They sank, and
light was denied them for a time. Tomas directed Pug, using
mind-speech, until after long minutes in the dark, Tomas spoke aloud.
“We are in an open area.”

With returning
solidity, they all felt cold stone beneath their feet and Pug created
light about himself. Arutha looked up. They were in a gigantic
chamber, easily a hundred feet in every direction, with a ceiling
twice that high. About them rose columns and next to them stood an
upraised dais.

Then suddenly,
with a booming displacement of air, the dragon bulked above them.
Ryath said, “It is near time.”

Arutha said,
“What is the dragon speaking of?” He had seen so many
wonders over the last two years the sight of a talking dragon was
making no impression on him.

Tomas said,
“Ryath, like all the greater dragons, knows the time of her
death. It is soon.”

The dragon
spoke. “While we fared between worlds, it was possible I would
die of causes removed from thee and thy friends. Now it is clear I
must continue to play a part in this, for our destiny as a race is
always tied with thine, Valheru.”

Tomas only
nodded. Pug looked about the chamber, saying, “Where is this
Lifestone?”

Macros pointed
to the dais. “There.”