The Eight Walls of Rogar: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Series! (The Lost Kingdoms of Laotswend Trilogy--Book One) (32 page)

“Follow me!” Laris yelled.  “Let’s see if we can’t make it!” 

By the time the king and his men were to the bottom of the steps, the top of the wall was covered with shapelings, and still more swarmed up the ladders.  Ironshield turned the head of the snake one notch to the left, and its tail two notches to the right.  Its eyes lit, a piercing cry issued from its nostrils and, with a series of thunderous booms, the bombs unleashed their wrath.  Mangled flesh flew everywhere.  Jets of flame shot into the air, forming a solid wall of fire, a blue white inferno that reduced all it touched to ash.  The shapelings closest to the inferno were pushed forward by those farther back.  Hundreds were incinerated, sent howling into the abyss from whence they came.

Ironshield allowed himself a moment’s satisfaction, a faint smile playing across his lips.  Precious seconds passed before, as was inevitable, the blaze dyed down and the shapelings burst through, running and snarling, crashing over the battlements like a wave over a dam.

Laris ran as hard as he could, with as much speed as his old legs would allow, but he was tiring fast.

“Give those men some cover!” Ironshield ordered.

The king looked over his shoulder and saw the outer gate beginning to open, the shapelings rushing in to close the gap.  He knew some of the men could easily outrun him.  He also knew they would not leave his side, even if it meant their lives, which meant their lives were once again in his hands.

Faster,
thought Laris, sure that his heart was going to burst. 
Mustn’t fail them. 
Arrows whistled over their heads, arcing into the foremost shapeling ranks.  The cannon fired as quickly as they could be loaded, booming out shot after shot, some on the verge of overheating.  Screaming Redheads tore into the enemy lines with grisly results, stone heads smashing, iron claws slashing.

And then, somehow, Laris and his men were inside, the slab of ancient stone closing behind them, sealing the shapelings out.  They had made it.  They were safe…at least for the present. Winded and battered, Laris came stumbling from the tunnel mouth.  He went to one knee, bowing his head, giving thanks to Rodan.  His silver haired troop who, including himself, now numbered only twenty-two, followed his example—twenty-two men down on one knee, heads bowed, chests heaving, forming a solemn circle.  Their brothers in arms gathered round, stifling their cheers out of respect.  Everyone sensed the profundity of the moment, a profundity made more poignant by the sound of the shapeling army clamoring on the other side of the wall.

Twenty-two,
Ironshield thought. 
Eleven and eleven.  It is a sacred number.  A prophetic number.  A message from Rodan. 
When Laris finished his prayer and looked up, he saw Ironshield standing above him.  “It’s a miracle you’re alive, my King,” Ironshield said, clasping his hand and pulling him to his feet.  “I am relieved beyond measure.  But tell me, what has become of Elkar?”

“Gone,” Laris rasped, voice thick with loss.  “And his body…they took it…and…and Minorian too.”  Ironshield frowned at the bloody gash on the king’s shoulder, wonder widening his eyes, for despite the enchantments forged into the armor, something had cleaved through it as cleanly as if it were made of tin.

Marla

T
rilla froze as the two Sokerran scouts rode into view.  She and the prince sat in high-backed chairs on either side of a small square table, preparing to eat lunch.  The scouts had two horses in tow, the owners of which were conspicuously absent.

Trilla stood up, facing them, wringing her hands together.  The prince stood beside her, put his arm around her, looking at her with concern.  She had grown suddenly pale, her expression a blank canvas awaiting the first brushstroke.  The scouts dismounted and bowed.

“Report,” ordered the prince, dreading what picture their words might paint.

The older of the two, bleak-faced and tired, nodded.  “I regret to report, sire, we did not find any trace of Andaris or Gaven, that is, save for their horses.”

The prince glanced at the animals, noting their hanging heads and matted manes.  “Where are their saddlebags?” he asked.

The man’s beardless mouth turned down.  “We don’t know, sire.  That puzzled us, too.  We assume they removed them and went in search of shelter.”

The prince gave Trilla’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  “Then they’re alive,” he said.

“Perhaps, sire.  The blizzard was much more severe in that area than what we experienced here.  I’m afraid we didn’t see any cover that would have been adequate.  The snow was several feet deep, and in one place blocked the road entirely.  Looked like an avalanche. 

Damn the man’s dimwittedness,
thought the prince, feeling Trilla begin to tremble.  “If the way was blocked by an avalanche, and there was no sign of them before the avalanche, then
obviously
they sought shelter beyond that point.”

“Oh…yes, your Highness, of course.  How foolish of me.  I’m sure you’re right.”

“In that case, take a company of men back and make a more thorough search.  No matter how long it takes, I want them found.”

The prince felt Trilla shudder.  He glanced down at her and found her looking up at him.  His breath caught.  Tears welled in her eyes, rolling silently down her cheeks.  But there was something else welling in her eyes.  Love—love for him.  He stared at her in amazement, felt his heart swell in his chest, and knew, from that moment forward, nothing would be the same.  To be the recipient of something so precious, to have someone so good and pure be looking at him like that…was everything.  How he had lived so long without it he didn’t know.  With all his money and power, he had been poorer than most peasants.

The scout cleared his throat.  “There is one more thing, sire.”

Palden pulled his eyes from Trilla’s.  “Yes, speak up, man.  What is it?”

“Well,” he said, his tone reluctant, “getting through all that snow is going to be dangerous…and time consuming.  It could take days.  The height and breadth of the avalanche is extensive.”

“Do what you can,” the prince told him.  “Take two companies of men if that’s what you need, and the necessary supplies … shovels, food, blankets, and whatever else.  But make haste.  They may be in need of our help.”

“Anything else, sire?”

The prince paused to consider the question, seeming older than his twenty-two years—giving them a glimpse of the man he would one day become.  “Yes, as a matter of fact there is.  Attempt to clear a through route for our reinforcements.  If it is difficult for you to get through, it will be difficult for them.  When you are finished, catch up to us as swiftly as you can.  If you find Gaven and Andaris before you’re done, by all means, send them ahead with an escort so we can stop worrying.”

The scout saluted, neck stiff, chin up, bringing his clenched fist across his chest and straight down.  “I will endeavor to serve with distinction,” he promised.

The prince saluted back.  “I know you will.”

Once they’d gone, Trilla turned to Palden and smiled.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I won’t forget this.  Gaven and Andaris are like family to me.  If not for Rogar, I’d be out there myself.”

Seeing the conflict raging within her,
he bowed his head and replied, “It is the least I can do, my lady.  After all…your family is my family.”

At this, the dam broke, and a flood of tears began to stream down her cheeks.  Chest heaving, she reached up, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.  In that moment the world dropped away, and there was only her, her lips wonderfully warm and soft and salty from her tears, her hair filling his nose with the heady scent of summertime, with a revitalizing bouquet of rolling green hills drenched in sunshine.  He held onto her with a need that surprised him, relishing the feel of her—the heat coming off her body, her trim waist and soft skin, the gentle slope of her back.  She was a flower in full bloom and, even more remarkable, she was his, to have and to hold until death did they part.

***

Gaven and Andaris had passed through dozens of doorways, each with a different symbol above, before finding the source of the dripping water.  They stood in a large, round room, watching the water drip from a network of small holes on the ceiling into a shallow pool at their feet.  For the past couple of hours, the temperature had been on the rise, going from a comfortable seventy something, to a sweltering ninety something.  Each room they entered felt a degree or two warmer than the last.  If the trend continued, they’d soon have to turn around.

From a blizzard to a furnace,
Andaris thought, licking his chapped lips.  What little was left of their water had grown stale.  The pool, on the other hand, looked sparkling, fresh, and altogether inviting.  Andaris knelt and, with a tentative expression, stuck in a finger.  “It’s cold,” he said.  “Do you think it’s safe to drink?”

Gaven knelt beside him, leaned forward, and scooped some up with his hand.  “Only one way to find out,” he answered.  Dropping his chin, he took a sip, his mouth curving into a smile.  “It’s sweet!” he declared.  “Like honey!”

Andaris dipped his finger in again and, eying it with distrust, touched it to the tip of his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Gaven assured him.  “See?”  Grinning like a fool, the big man scooped up a double handful of water and tossed it at him.

Andaris recoiled.  “Hey!” he gasped, raising his arms.  “What’d you do that for?”  Then a few drops of the stuff ran into his mouth, and his irritation vanished.  He licked his lips and grinned back at Gaven, feeling a surge of giddiness welling within him.  “You’re right!” he exclaimed.  “It is good!”  In fact, it was better than good….  It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.  Unable to stop himself, he belted out a laugh, raked his fingers through the pool, and splashed Gaven right in the face.

Gaven responded in kind and, in a matter of seconds, both were drenched.  It occurred to Andaris, at some point during their
splash war
, that they were behaving strangely, but he felt too good to care—so alive, absolutely euphoric, his senses honed to a razor’s edge.  Judging by the way Gaven was dancing about and yelling, “Hah!” while kicking his feet through the water, he felt the same.

At length, they found themselves sitting on the ground beside the pool, exhausted.  Gaven’s chest, even though he was obviously having trouble catching his breath, once again began to shake with laughter, a deep guffawing reminiscent of a braying donkey.  Andaris imagined what the big man would look like with long furry ears and a tail, which, of course, started him to laughing again, as well.

“I…think…think,” Gaven sputtered, “there may be something wrong with…with the water.”  This struck them as so hilarious that they laughed until they cried.

Andaris felt like his sides were actually going to split.  “Can’t breathe!” he gasped.  If they didn’t stop soon, it was going to kill them. 
Death by laughter,
he thought.  To his horror, he found this to be the most outrageously funny thing yet. 
Go out with a smile on your face, that’s what I say.
Don’t let death get ya down.  No, sir!
 
Just laugh it off!
  His vision blurred, and began spinning about him like a mad top.  Faster and faster and faster it went, spurred by Gaven’s maniacal guffawing.  Finally, Andaris’ eyes rolled back into his skull, his legs buckled, and he fell.

Sometime later, he woke with a full bladder and an aching head.  He sat up, relieved to discover that his physical discomfort didn’t strike him as even slightly humorous.  Was it his imagination, or was the room brighter than before?  Gaven lay on his side a couple of feet away, his thunderous snoring echoing off the walls. 
How long have I been out?
he wondered.

“Gaven,” he whispered.

No response.

“Hey Gaven!”

The big man mumbled something in an aggravated tone and rolled onto his back.  Andaris nudged him in the ribs with his foot.

At last, Gaven opened his eyes.  “I was sleeping,” he complained, “and having a very nice dream, too, about the Johansen twins.”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, but….”  Andaris glanced meaningfully around the room.  “Does it seem brighter to you?”

Gaven squinted his eyes and nodded.  Not only was it brighter, but the purple glow had been replaced by a clear, sunny kind of light.  The gems on the walls sparkled to life and began casting rainbows about the room.

“It’s the pool,” Gaven said.  “It’s coming from the pool!”

They crawled forward on hands and knees and peered into the water, spotting something that had previously escaped their notice.  There was a small hole in the pool’s exact center.  From far below this hole, a ball of light was speeding towards them, coming closer by the second.

They scrambled back and huddled against the wall, sitting there with mouths agape as a naked young woman rose from the surface of the water.  She was the source of the light, and she was incredibly beautiful.  Her skin shone like the dawn.  Her eyes glinted like sapphires.  Her hair glittered like gold.  And her lips, her lips were as red as ripe strawberries.

“How wonderful,” she said in a wind-chime voice, clapping her little hands together.  “I have not had visitors in such a long time.”  Her smile lit the room, literally, and her laugh was like a chorus of angels.

“Who are you?” Andaris asked, sounding as stunned as he looked.

She laughed again, sending a thrill up his spine.  “I am Marla, silly.  Who were you expecting?”

“I…I don’t know.  No one, I guess.  I mean…we don’t even know where we are.  We were in a blizzard, there was an avalanche…then we found our way here.”

Her eyes filled with sympathy.  “Oh, you poor dears, how awful for you.  How may I help?  I cannot stand to see others in pain.”

They gawked at her a moment, not quite trusting their eyes.  “Well,” Andaris managed, “do you know how we can get back to the surface?”

“The surface?” she said with distaste, crinkling her button nose at him.  “Personally, I do not see the appeal.  Are you sure that is where you wish to be?”

Andaris nodded.  “It’s very important that we get back.”

She copied his solemn expression, held it for a moment, and then started to laugh.  “You Landwellers are always so serious.  I do not see how you stand it.”

Andaris smiled, just to show her that he could.  “If you had seen us before you might not think so.  We drank some of that water and, I don’t know what was in it, but we started to laugh for no reason.  We couldn’t stop.”  Andaris licked his lips, remembering the taste with perhaps a bit too much fondness.

She smiled back at him and, with an air of abundant innocence said, “I like you.”  Her voice was matter of fact.  “You are funny, but do you not know anything?  This is a special pool, silly.  You have to build up your resistance.  You are lucky you did not jump in without me.  If you had, you might be laughing still.”

Gaven and Andaris exchanged a dark look.

“So, what about the surface?” Andaris asked.  “Do you know how we can get out of here?”

“Well…yes,” she admitted with a pout.  “But are you sure you do not wish to stay with me?  You would never grow old and…and you would always be happy, forever…and ever…and ever.”

  Andaris was so taken with her that he was ready to agree to just about anything.  Whatever it took to make
her
happy.  “Really?” he heard himself saying.

But Gaven sensed something Andaris did not.  Marla didn’t just want them to stay—she
needed
them to stay. 
If things are so great down here,
he thought,
then why is this so important to her?
  Gaven tapped Andaris on the shoulder.  “Hey, remember me?” he asked.  “Remember Trilla and Jade?  Do I have to remind you of our duty to them?”

Andaris turned from Marla and looked at his friend, eyes glassy and unfocused.  After a moment, the veil of confusion lifted, and he nodded.  “Sure, Gaven, of course, I know.  I…didn’t forget.”

Marla eyed Gaven like he’d just eaten the last cookie, heaved a little sigh, and stuck her tongue out at him.  “I was just having some fun,
topworlder.
  You need not worry.  I would not have hurt him.”

Andaris turned back around.  “Believe me,” he began in a shaky voice, “if things were different, I just might take you up on your offer.”