The Destroyer Book 4 (11 page)

There is nothing more dangerous than me within a few thousand miles.

The jagged points of the Teeth were a constant companion. They were visible from the towers of Nia’s castle, but I had not realized how huge they were. Even after weeks of travel they had only grown marginally larger, yet they dominated the skyline. I made it to the top of the next tall valley and let out a slow whistle of appreciation.

The east side of the country lay before me. It spread like an endless green bowl of glass cracked by fine blue rivers and tiny blemishes of stone. The sun hung about three quarters through the sky and shone from the perfect spot in the west to highlight the endless miles of unspoiled land. To my right I saw the foothills of the Teeth: emerald mounds of soft grass punctuated with what looked like grains of sand from this distance, but they were actually massive boulders.

The mountains rose sharply, an impossibly steep wall cutting through the foothills like abrupt monoliths that emerged from the depths of a green ocean. Though I stood thirty or forty miles away, I still had to crane my neck to look up at their sharp peaks.

“Where is the keep?” I said aloud, partially to hear a voice and partially because the answer wasn’t clear even after studying the mountain range for several minutes. The solitude was creeping into my brain, bones, and muscles.

I spotted a break in the grasslands that flowed horizontally across the basin. It was either a river or a road, and I decided that heading down into the valley would be the only way to find out.

The grade was steep, but I was skilled at sliding down such embankments and soon sprinted down the slope and into the valley. I had not seen any Elvens, humans, or herd animals from my perch atop the ridge, but the grass was tall enough to conceal many things in its depths.

I found the road I had seen from above; it was wide enough to easily hold four wagons abreast. Deep gravel covered the surface, and while I saw plenty of tracks laid in it, I couldn’t guess in which direction it was flowing or how long the tracks had been there.

I understood that Nadea’s keep was positioned on the rocky slopes of the Teeth. I imagined that there would probably be a settlement in or around the fortress, so the road must flow toward it. I jogged eastward on the gravel path in the direction of the foothills and hoped that I would be able to make it to the keep before nightfall.

From down here it was evident that there were many farms, ranches and other settlements branching from this main road. There were plenty of grazing cattle, but no humans attended the herds.

I took that as a bad sign.

I reached the first foothill and sprinted up and over it, crossing a few more miles of hills until the path forked north and south. The northern route was wider and looked more traveled, so I took that direction. After another mile I crested the final hill and saw a village situated at the base of the mountains. From the village a road led up through the mountains to Nadea’s keep.

Nia’s capital city spread out from the massive castle like a spider’s web. I had expected this eastern fortress to have a similar design, but the keep looked more like an upturned hand emerging from the rocky cliffs, its tower fingers running parallel to the sharp, rocky edges of the Teeth, opened as if to catch the moon.

The fortress was enormous, built of the same dark gray basalt as the mountains. With my enhanced vision I saw that the main road twisted sharply to the east after the last building in the town. The road was barred by a massive stone barricade. The path cut deeply into the stone, and I noticed small pinprick holes dotting the canyon walls above and to the east of the barricade to allow archers to defend the fortress. An army might take position in hidden corridors cut into the mountain and prevent any attacking horde from relative safety.

The wind began to pick up, a dry throaty howl that galloped through the giant emerald canyon, jumped the foothills, and caught in the pass of the mountains. The sound was a deep lonely pitch and echoed off the Teeth and bounced westward another mile.

The city below me was deserted.

Fifty large horned oxen meandered through the streets absently, munching from flower beds and fenced gardens. Chickens perched on thatched roofs and fluttered and pecked around the feet of the larger animals, scratching and searching for bugs. There were no humans. The streets and buildings were silent and still. The homes were in good repair, but not recently used. There were no lingering scents of life, no cooking fires or garbage, not even the sign or smell of a chamber pot or wash water lately emptied in the street. I wanted to believe Nadea’s army was safely entrenched up in the keep. They could not defend this city from an Elven invasion, so they could have chosen to hole up in the fortress, it was certainly large enough to accommodate the remains of Nia’s army. I hoped it was true as I made my way through the empty streets and began the steep ascent to the castle, but I knew it was unlikely. An army of that size would need food, and the chickens and cattle would have been rounded up for slaughter, or at least tended carefully for their milk and eggs. They would have set a sentry to report movement in the city. Clearly, no one was here now, but had my friends come and gone, or never made it?

The wind picked up as I traveled higher, resonating like a song. I wondered if the seasons changed the angle and speed of the winds and gave the canyon a new tune to howl with each passing month. I thought of Nadea as a child, the haunting melody of the wind must have been comforting and familiar to her, the sound of home.

The condition of the road improved dramatically as I reached the end of the city and moved up toward the slopes. These stones were evenly cut but still abrasive enough to grant herd animals and wagon wheels purchase on the incline. For a second I wished that the road was still loose gravel so I might have checked for signs of someone passing.

At the top of the switchbacks squatted the gate of the fortress. It was composed of three twenty-foot high barriers constructed of iron as thick as my torso. Each portcullis was operated by massive pull chains that stretched almost one hundred feet up to the gatehouse. The mechanism for raising and lowering each gate was bigger than an oxcart and probably required four people to man.

All three of the gates were closed.

This gave me a brief sense of hope. I still did not see any sentries, but perhaps the army went inside the keep and then closed the doors behind them. Someone had to have been here to shut the gates. I looked around for a way to bypass the barriers and decided that my best avenue would be through the gate house. I quickly scurried up the first massive iron cage door, jumped up to the chain that controlled its movement, and passed hand-over-hand underneath its length until I entered the gate house.

The room was smaller than I expected, but the gears were as I imagined: giant nests of cogs, wheels, spokes, levers, and springs with functions that I didn’t even bother to puzzle out. I thought of Paug and knew that if my young friend were here he would have been excited to study the device and discover exactly how it worked. He and Malek were very similar in that fashion and the comparison made me consider the other attributes they shared. I risked a slow sigh of regret and sadness for the words I had not been able to speak to either of them.

There were arrow slits on both sides of the stone gate house and I looked toward the inner courtyard. I didn’t see any movement or hear any noise besides the wind, so I opened the heavy door and descended a staircase to the courtyard.

The sun was setting quickly, what little red light made its way past the towers and mountains was stretched so thin that it did little to illuminate the entirety of the castle. My vision was good even in darkness and I took a few moments to analyze the layout of the fortress, its towers, walls and various structures. I had little experience with defensible fortresses. The wars I fought were in the open wilderness, or attacks on their roughly defended estates. None of the Elven homes or structures were close to the size and greatness of the stone fortresses of Nia. The most impressive Elven estate would have been an average sized house in Nia or Brilla. Either humans had naturally advanced in their understanding of architecture and engineering in the thousands of years I had slept, or the humans of this planet had always possessed greater skill than the Elvens on my home world.

I had spent enough time in Castle Nia to guess where the main living areas should be. I crept toward the nearest one but kept my senses alert for any noise other than the wind. The path curved like a snake through various untended gardens, rock sculptures, and training grounds, across stairs and over ledges. From every angle there were beautiful views of the green valley below, or the sheer, dramatic walls of the Teeth. As the sun continued its death, the rocky slopes were awash with a golden sparkle. I looked upon the splendor through Nadea’s eyes as I thought of the way she had described her love for her home.

Finally, I made it to the largest of the stone structures and opened the iron wrapped pine door. I had guessed correctly, this was the main hall of the keep. Unfortunately, I had also guessed correctly about the inhabitants of the outpost. There was no one there, not even rats or other pests that tended to overtake such places when the humans left. It was still and cool inside. The air had not been stirred in some time.

I walked through the keep’s innards for a quarter of an hour to be sure I had missed no traces of recent occupation. It was empty now, but it had been looted. Where tapestries and paintings had hung, the walls were bare, with the faintest outline of soot-stained stone indicating the shape and scope of the former décor. Chandeliers lay smashed on the floor, their skeletons picked clean of any valuable crystal or scrap metal. There were no candelabras or urns, no weapons or shields, no crests or banners. The kitchen was free of all traces of food or scents of cooking, which explained the lack of vermin. I came upon what had clearly been an impressive library and my heart broke for my friend as I saw what had been done. The shelves were emptied, what books remained were piled on the floor, torn, water damaged, in disarray.

By the time I circled back to the main doorway the light from the glass windows above had turned a dark purple. I sat at the foot of the tower’s staircase and pondered my next steps. Nadea’s army never made it to the keep. There were no signs of struggle here, no blood or bodies. The hordes had arrived unimpeded, taken what they wanted, and left with their bounty.

The plan had been ridiculous. How could we have expected them to escape the Elvens? The empress’s army was large and powerful and they were nothing but a few weak humans. I ground my teeth together in frustration. My hubris had overcome my judgment again. I may have been a great general, but I was only one man now, one man alone here against tens of thousands of powerful Elvens. Elvens with magic and skill that rivaled their O’Baarni contemporaries. I could change Nadea’s soldiers, but it would take years for them to learn enough to be a formidable force against the Elvens. And none of this could even begin until I found Nadea, Jessmei and whatever else was left of Nia’s royal family and army.

Perhaps I should have worked with Nadea and Jessmei to negotiate a truce. That would have bought us some time to prepare. Maybe the relationship between Nadea and the empress could have developed into something peaceful.

Telaxthe was shocked that I knew of her daughter, but quickly regained her normal cool composure.

“You are assuming I care about such a creature,” she had said.

“It is your own child. I doubt your species would have survived for all these generations if you cared nothing for your own offspring. All creatures do. It is inborn and instinctive.”

“Your perceptions of our race continue to bewilder me, Kaiyer.” She reached for the glass of wine she had sipped before Kannath’s arrival had interrupted our dinner. She gulped the rest of the glass down before continuing. “We breed for power and status, to make the next generation stronger. Did you know that humans and Elvens could have offspring?”

“I suspected such.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrow rose slightly. “Was this from your research into the Destroyer’s history?”

“So there is a way for our races to create children?” I ignored her question.

“Under certain conditions, an O’Baarni and Elven may procreate.”

“What conditions?” I thought of Iolarathe and the daughter I had never met.

“You are running out of time for our private audience. Are you sure you want to spend it discussing this process? Perhaps you wish to make a child with me?” She smiled and leaned her head to the side. Her dark bronze hair fell in that direction and exposed the spot where her neck met her white embroidered robe. I recalled the way her scent had worked its strange magic on my emotions and caused me to lust for her. The feeling returned and I exhaled.

“Your daughter is alive. I am guessing you didn’t believe her to be. If you really don’t care about her location, then I suppose we have little more to speak of. Kannath will take me away and you’ll get this world all to yourself.” I stood up to leave but she grabbed my left forearm.

“Sit.” She tugged slightly and I returned to my position next to her. My arms were still covered with Yillomar’s blood and she wiped her hand on a napkin once she released her grip. “What do you want?”

“Prevent Kannath from taking me.”

“That is a dangerous proposition. Once the clans find out that you are here and that I interfered with Kannath’s mission, they will descend upon this world with an angry fervor. They will capture you anyway, and in the process, my kind might be destroyed entirely for having aided you, not to mention the humans you hold such affection for. So the answer is no.”