Dark Foundations (90 page)

As the captains left to organize the soldiers, Merral suddenly realized that it was now early afternoon and he had eaten little all day. He found some food and ate with little enthusiasm.

Vero entered, pulled a chair up opposite, and looked at him with concern. “It isn't your fault, you know,” he said.

Merral shrugged. “I think it is.”

“Coming here was the right thing to do, wasn't it?”

Merral wondered if there was a hint of uncertainty in Vero's voice.

“I'm not so sure.” He heard the sullenness in his words.

Vero's look was keen. “My friend, I don't know what's going on, but I feel there is something you aren't telling me. I think you ought to talk it over with someone. Luke's next door seeing people. Why not go and have a chat?”

“Perhaps.”

As Vero rose and walked to the door, he hesitated and then turned back. “Merral, let me say this. Normally, I'd say that what's wrong is between you and God and is none of my business. But I can't say that today. Our only hope lies in the intervention of the Most High. You lead us. I don't think we can afford any outstanding business between you and God.” He gestured to something behind Merral's head. “And neither can they.”

As the door closed, Merral turned to see a formal painting of the family and their two blonde children.

“But that's why I came!” he said and heard defiant anger in his voice.

Hoping that action would make him feel better, Merral summoned Lloyd and set off to make a new survey of the defenses.

Clouds had gathered and the sun was obscured, yet the temperature was every bit as high. As he strode about, Merral felt sweat pooling under his armor.

The last irregulars from the airport had crossed the causeway an hour ago, but Balancal still kept the gates open. Partly out of curiosity and partly because of his restlessness, Merral borrowed a small open-topped two-seater and drove with Lloyd through the gates halfway along the deserted causeway. There he turned the vehicle and stopped. The mound of Ynysmant loomed up from the lake with smoke still drifting from its summit as if it were a volcano on the verge of eruption. Indeed the gathering clouds seemed to be focused around the island.

Merral stared at the town. Seeing the town in its entirety from the outside made him realize just how drastic the changes had been. New walls had been built or extended, lines of metal railings created, grilles built over windows, defensive positions constructed. The turrets, previously ornamental, now had an air of function to them and the flags a sense of deliberate defiance.
We have put the clock back over fifteen thousand years.
We have created a fortified town.
The thought saddened him.

After Merral returned through the gateway, he found Balancal and made the decision to close the gates.

The big double doors were closed and steel crossbeams placed across.

We are under siege
.
Another old, bad word revived in our day
.

There were still three hours before the predicted arrival of the main body of Krallen. Merral felt the urge to keep moving. Action gave him an excuse to avoid reflection.

For the next two hours, he walked up and around Ynysmant, checking on defensive positions, asking after syn-plasma stocks at the medical centers, and testing communications backups.

Lloyd, who had left much of his heavier weaponry at the Gate House, followed him up and down the streets, steps, and alleys without complaint.

Everywhere he went, Merral tried to encourage the men and women preparing to defend Ynysmant. At first, he found putting on a mask of cheerfulness not just hard, but also distasteful. Soon though, he decided that there was no other option.

The preparations for war lay heavily on the town. Joy and laughter had fled to be replaced by a new sternness and urgency. People who would have once stopped and chatted now simply said, “Nice to see you, Merral” or “Good to have you here, Commander,” before striding quickly about their business.

Even Ynysmant's ever-present and innumerable cats seemed to have caught the mood and now slipped with wary glances across the streets or cowered in doorways.

Despite the constant noises of defense construction or the shouting of orders, a strange, tense, and ominous silence hung over the town.

No further word came from Frankie or Clemant. As the afternoon wore on, the clouds thickened into a thick gray shroud that obscured the sun, creating a shadowless and humid gloom without lessening the heat.

Merral sensed something more than a weather phenomenon. There was something about this growing murkiness that seemed to seep into the mind and spoke of despair and defeat.

Midafternoon, Merral returned to Enatus's office for further discussion of the defense plans. As he was leaving the office, an aide told him that there were two people in a nearby room who wished to see him.

Merral walked through to find Mr. and Mrs. Danol sitting at a table.
I could do without this
.

They greeted each other.

“We know you are busy,” Hania Danol said, holding her husband's hand. “We all are. And we're so glad you have come. But we had to ask if there was any news of Isabella.”

“And whether,” George Danol added quickly, “there is anything you can do for her.”

Merral was silent for a moment, trying to find the best way to express the unpalatable. “As I understand it,” he said, “Langerstrand base is now surrounded, so the Dominion forces can't leave. So that's good news. Our forces there will be trying to find ways of getting the hostages released. The hope . . .” He faltered, suddenly wondering when optimism became lying. “The hope is that, when the situation here is resolved, we can devote all our energy to sorting things out there. I would like to personally oversee it.”

“But it is a priority?” George added, his eyes hard. “
Your
priority?”

“Well, obviously, my first priority is the defeat of the Dominion forces here and the defense of Ynysmant. But you can be assured that the moment this action is over, I will turn my full attention to getting the hostages out safely.” He paused. “Believe me, I will do all I can. I will wait however long it takes and go wherever I need to go to get Isabella and the others out safely.”

“That's a promise?” George asked in an insistent tone that reminded Merral of his daughter.

“Yes,” Merral said, rising from his seat. “It's a promise.”

Enatus had decided to make a personal visit to the troops at the Gate House. So just after the bells had sounded four, Merral found himself walking at the warden's side as he was introduced to the captains and other members of the forces now clustered around the lower wall.

As the little man strolled around with his sword bouncing off his belly, nodding and smiling at each introduction, Merral was genuinely impressed by Enatus's gritty determination.
It's courage.
That's what it is
.

Just after the warden had left, Lloyd nudged Merral and pointed up. High above the topmost spires of the town, the black diamond-shaped silhouettes of two slitherwings could be seen weaving their unhurried way in and out of the lowest strands of cloud.

The enemy are already here
.

He ordered Karita and two of her snipers to get to the highest point of the town—the bell tower of Congregation Hall—and shoot the creatures. But the slitherwings stayed out of range. Given that they had limited ammunition, he soon ordered the team back.

Just before five, word came to Merral that the Dominion forces were in sight. He hurried with Lloyd to a small park on the western edge of the second level of the town and climbed to the top of a six-story ornamental tower. There they gazed wordlessly westward where, just beyond the southernmost runway, a faint cloud of gray dust was rising.
The main Krallen army,
now only a few kilometers away.
Merral felt despair.
.

He heard the bells toll five. Now was the time when this place should be full of children at play, men and women walking together, athletes training. Instead, there was no one.

In the unnatural gloom, he could see a patchy haze developing over the lake.

Night is falling.
It has been falling for months
.

“Not long now,” he said to Lloyd and then, with a stern determination, descended the stairway and made his way back to the Gate House.

Down by the defenses, the soldiers were taking up positions along the walls with a quiet urgency.

Merral walked into the house the regulars were using and after sorting out some minor administrative details, made his way to the bathroom. He felt dirty and sweaty and, stripping off his armor, tried to clean himself up. He searched a cupboard for a towel and as he tugged one out, a child's bath toy—a bright yellow fish made of a soft synthetic material—fell at his feet.

On impulse, Merral picked up the toy. As he did, the thought came to him with an irresistible force that the child who played with it was possibly now in a refuge facing a horrid death within hours—a death that would be linked to, and perhaps even caused by, his disobedience. His hands shook and tears misted his eyes as the fish tumbled to the floor.

You fool, D'Avanos!
You utter fool!
To let proud, impetuous action take priority over obedience.

His resistance crumbled. He wiped his eyes, dried himself, put the armor back on, and went in search of Luke. He found the chaplain in the house next door, seated on a sofa with a book-Bible and a pile of papers next to him.

“Ah, Merral,” Luke said in a quiet voice, as he rose to greet him. “I thought I'd see you before the action started. Take a seat.”

Merral lowered himself into an easy chair, aware of the stiffness of the armor.

“You are a burdened man, Commander.”

“I have a lot to be burdened about.”

“Tell me all.”

There was a long silence.

“Luke,” Merral began, then realized that now was not the time to hide anything. “Luke, I disobeyed an order not just from Clemant but from God through the envoy. And as result, I have walked into a trap and what's happening to this town is all my fault. I have brought all this on this town, these people, and you.”

“Ah,” Luke said slowly. “I knew something was wrong.” He shook his head. “I should have pressed you at the time. I was preoccupied with Clemant. But continue.”

“The envoy told me to stay close to Isterrane.” Merral put his head in his hands. Now, as if some mental mist had lifted, he suddenly saw all his motives with perfect clarity: his overconfidence, his anger with Clemant, and his arrogant refusal to take advice.

“Why did you come here?”

“Because I had to. No, I've said that too often.” Merral paused, collecting his thoughts. “There were several things. After Perena's death, I resolved to do all that I could to stop death from coming near me. I couldn't take any more people dying. And Tezekal Gorge just reinforced that. There have been too many deaths.” Merral looked up at the chaplain, feeling tears clog his eyes. “Not here, Luke. I couldn't let it happen here, not to my parents and my friends.”